#apparently everyone always had mead with their meals!

[mundmutter]

what if you gave a medieval person a pepsi? the sugar would send her into shock but she's also been drinking mead since she was like 9 so??? her tolerance for alcohol? amazing. Sugar? uh oh

[domesticandlovingmonsters]

Flowers From a Witcher

A request for Valentines Day.  Including Geralt x NB Reader. Warnings/Contents: SFW, a soft-Geralt.

Adding these to my stories after known plagerism so everyone knows that I do not give permission to anyone to repost my work. Either as their own or “with credit to original author”.

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It was always a pleasant surprise when you came home to find a chestnut mare within your fenced estate. There was ever only one person that stopped by your little stead just outside of town. You were close enough to the forest that few wanted to spend too much time nearby. Since monsters were a common occurrence, or so the rumours had the townsfolk believe. It kept most unwanted company away. Apart from one grizzled type.

Roach greeted you with a loud snort and leaned towards your outstretched hand as far as her reins would let her. The saddle was bare today. No monster head or parts dangled from Roach’s sides or were flung over her back. Just the various bags of trinkets and rations Geralt carried.

You found your door slightly ajar as you approached. A distinct smell of cooked meats met you at the doorway as you headed inside.

“Make yourself at home,” You jibed. Seeing the tall frame of Geralt by your small fire place. He was serving the food up on two plates. Your small round wooden table set with two sets of knives and forks. There was already a mug of mead on one side for Geralt, and a cup of fresh juice on the other for you.

“You have said I’m always welcome,” Geralt replied with the usual stony tone of his. But as he turned, setting down a plate of hot food for you, his amber eyes were gentle. An amused twitch to his commonly stoic expression.

“A mistake on my end.” You told him. Thanking him as you placed your basket of goods from town on the bench by the door. “What are you doing in the area? Jaskier came by a few weeks ago. Told me you were heading South.”

“Job fell through,” Geralt said as you joined him at the table. The seasoned food was filling your home with a mouth-watering aroma. And Geralt gave no pleasantries as he started to wolf down his large plate of meats and vegetables. “Man got strung up by his people. Apparently, there was no monster. Just him.”

“Sounds well deserved.” You muttered, digging into your own breakfast. It always surprised you how Geralt seemed to be good at so many things. Cooking was one of them. When given the right materials and tools, of course. It was difficult to make a tasty meal out in a storm or snow over a pitiful excuse of a fire. When given a kitchen with spices and various herbs, Geralt could whip up a meal that would put Royal Chief’s to shame.

“I’m heading back North to find work. Thought I’d drop by. See if there were any jobs here.” You gave Geralt a roll of your eyes. There had been no monsters in these parts for some time. Ever since you first met Geralt, when he had actually come here for work and got a job; his visit seemed to scatter even the smallest dangers from the area. You’ve never been so safe in the woods before. Even as a child foraging with your parents, there had been dangers of ghoul attacks and strange unknown beasts. Now, not a thing stirred in the dark corners of the woods outside your stead. Just a few wolves and possibly a bear.

“The local cattle-men are looking for strong hands to help fix their fences.” You offered. Chuckling when Geralt sneered down into his food. “You didn’t specify what work you were looking for.”

“I don’t think the locals would appreciate my help,” Geralt mumbled. You shrugged, feeling a sense of exhaustion wash over you at the thought of the local populace. Peace brewed trouble. And with you being one of the few outside the walls of the town, unmarried and without many friends in town, that trouble bubbled in your direction. Nothing you couldn’t handle. A few whispered rumours and back-chatting wasn’t anything you decided to waste energy on. But it did pile up. And it got frustrating when you were trying to barter for supplies in town.

Geralt looked up from his plate at the sound of your sigh. Noting the gentle tiredness around your eyes and the way your shoulders slumped as you dwindled over something in your mind. Geralt finished his food slowly. Picking at the vegetables with his fingers as you told him what he missed from the last time he saw you. Weeks on the road gave very little time to enjoy a hot meal in peace. And your company eased the long journey from his tensed muscles. He could relax a little here. It was a small pleasure even to sit on something other than dirt. He listened closely to your telling of the platoon of soldiers that passed town. Enjoying the story of how you precured a new goat for your home, naming it Jask.

“Because it does nothing but bleat all day.” You chuckled, taking a sip from your juice.

Geralt allowed a grin to slip across his lips. He’d love to see Jaskier’s reaction to having a goat named after him. “Undoubtedly, he’d make a song out of it.” Geralt said.

“Song for the ages, aye?” You laughed. But there was that tiredness again. Geralt didn’t have to ask if you were ok. You weren’t ill and your heart-beat was steady. You were just tired.

Geralt drained the last of his mead and gestured to your food. “Finish up. I need your help with something.”

You paused your eating and stared up at the Witcher. Surprise flickering across your face as you muddled over what a Witcher could possibly need help with. “Oh?” Was all you managed to get out. And Geralt merely nodded. Getting up from his seat and exiting the home. You hurriedly ate what you had left and downed your juice. Running outside to join Geralt by Roach.

“And what am I helping you with?” You asked. Geralt didn’t reply right away. Moving to the side of Roach and taking her reins. Leading her outside your estate fence and starting down the road. You clambered onto Roach’s saddle as you moved with them. Giving the mare a scratch along her neck as Geralt led you towards the forest.

“I’m looking for a few herbs for my concoctions,” Geralt finally replied. “But we’re also on the hunt. Keep your eyes open.”

Your chest swelled with excitement, and dare you say, terror. The stories you've heard. The heads and parts of monsters Geralt has had on his saddle; they were horrifying. But you've always been curious to see how Geralt hunts. And to see a monster, alive, and in the flesh.

What safer way to see a monster than right next to a Witcher?

"What are we hunting?" You asked with an eager tremble to your voice. "I haven't heard about any slaughters around here. Or any monster sightings. Did you smell something from my house?" You couldn’t help but tease. Geralt has never properly explained to you how he senses monsters. Tracking was obvious. But knowing that there was one nearby was something different.

"We're not hunting a monster." Geralt sighed. And you felt that flutter of excitement stutter.

"...a deer then?" You asked. A little crest-fallen.

"A spot for you to relax." Geralt looked at you over his shoulder. An amused glint to his wolfish gaze. “You're stressed, (y/n)

"I am not!" You snapped. With almost enough ferocity to make Roach's ears lay flat. Geralt’s eyebrow flicked up, and you sighed. Slumping in the saddle as Roach walked. "...Ok…Maybe a little."

There was no point lying to a Witcher. For all you knew, Geralt probably could smell stress. Or something weird like that. “Are the townspeople scared you talk so naturally to a Witcher?” Geralt asked as he turned back to the road. The forest was thicker now. The dark wooded pines stood tall enough to block out the sky. The sun filtered through their dense canopies in rays of yellow light and wind carried the scent of wildflowers and wet moss.

“No.” You sighed. It was going to be awkward to talk about it to Geralt. But you needed to rant. You hadn’t had anyone to complain too in a while. Jaskier was always fun to bitch to. But it’s been weeks since you last saw him. “Do you know about Valentines Day?” You asked. “Its some day in this month that celebrates love and flowers or something. We’ve celebrated it a few times in town, but for some reason, this year, the town is really draining it for all its worth.”

Geralt stayed silent. His gaze wandering the trees as you continued. “And the Mayor is having all farms bring their goods to a festival in a few days. Flowers are being hung up everywhere to celebrate. Lovers and partners are giving each other flowers and little gifts. And me…being one of the few unmarried in town, people start talking. And to be honest, it’s kind of…upsetting seeing everyone getting gifts. Sounds…stupid and mushy. But…I’ve never received flowers before. And seeing them everywhere, seeing the pretty bouquets some people are getting. Makes you feel a little lonely.”

You didn’t expect Geralt to have any words of comfort. Or to have any insight whatsoever on this. It was just nice to let it out. You had been denying yourself the right to feel lonely as the festival grew closer. You sold your little farm’s bounties to young couples and elderly partners. Seeing their faces brighten with wide smiles as they gave each other their gifts. It was hard. It hurt. And a part of you felt selfish for feeling that way. But it was the truth.

You sighed again, “Maybe I’ll pick my own flowers. Treat myself to a little gift. From me to me.” You chuckled, despite how pitiful it sounded. And you let your eyes wander the nearby forest. Suddenly, Geralt tugged on Roach’s reins and led her off the path. You clung to the saddle as the two of them climbed a gentle slope up into the thicket of trees. You ducked low hanging branches and felt the leaves of brickle bushes brush against your legs. You were about to ask where he was going when the trees suddenly broke apart, and Geralt led Roach into a vast clearing of green grass. Sunlight poured over the open area. Bringing the numerous colourful petals to life as your eyes scanned the area. It was like a fairy-tale. Birds even swooped down and nestled on the soft grass. Singing curiously as Geralt held Roach still as you dismounted.

“By the Gods, this is beautiful.” You said almost breathlessly. “I’ve walked this forest many times, and I’ve never seen this before.”

“The flowers are quite potent.” Geralt commented. Releasing the reins so Roach could wander around freely. She immediately went to a nearby shrub and started munching the lush foliage. “I could smell them from the road.”

You crouched down and held your nose near one of the flowers. It had a sweet scent that tickled your nose and made you smile. You almost didn’t have the heart to pluck any of them. You stood and looked back over the scene in front of you, taking it in. You could feel the tension in your shoulders relaxing. It was so pleasant.

“So, what kind of plants do you need for your concoctions?” You asked, turning back to Geralt. But you were met with a soft smile, and a bouquet of wildflowers held out to you. You couldn’t help the flush that washed over you as you took the bundle from Geralt’s hand. The smile on your lips was giddy and wide, and it made Geralt’s chest swell a little as you hugged carefully inspected the petals.

“Aww, Geralt, you’re gonna make me all mushy inside.” You said, playfully pouting your lips as the Witcher chuckled.

“Jaskier told me about Valentine’s Day,” Geralt told you. Passing you with a gentle smile as he continued to pluck more flowers from around you. “He also taught Ciri how to make flower crowns.”

You could imagine Ciri and Jaskier making flower crowns, it seemed like a thing Jaskier would do in hope of Ciri making Geralt wear one. But you watched with an ever-growing smile as Geralt skilfully wove the stems of flowers together. Holding it with tender fingers as he collected more and added it to the circling crown. You were about to protest when he approached you with the completed tiara of wildflowers. But as he placed it on your head, you felt a burst of soft butterflies swarm your stomach.

“A gift from a Witcher.” Geralt smiled. “I’m sure that’ll beat any roses anyone gets for Valentines Day.”

That giddy flush washed over you again as you buried your nose into the flowers again. “No one will believe me, though.” You shrugged. And Geralt chuckled. Looking over at the berry bush Roach was happily chomping away on.

“We’ll stay here for the day. The fruit here are edible.” And so, Geralt removed the blanket from Roach’s saddle and spread it out in the centre of the clearing. While you sat in the sun, attempting to weave your own flower crowns, Geralt foraged you a pile of berries and fruits, which were plump and sweet. Sitting with you through the day as you spent time talking until night started to creep in. Roach carried you back to your home with Geralt on guard, watching the darkening forest.

“Thank you. Again, Geralt.” You said as you entered your home, placing the bouquet of flowers in a small pot filled with water. “I have bragging rights now.” You carefully placed your collection of different flower crowns along the benches of your home. Even hanging some up by the windows and doors. You had created a lot of them.

“Jaskier, I’m sure, will be most jealous.” Geralt replied. Leaning his two swords against the wall of your home. He had replaced his armour with a white under shirt and comfortable travelling trousers. Carrying his bedroll to spread it over the stone floor by the fire. The common spot for him to sleep while visiting.

“Tomorrow, we’ll go hunting for your herbs.” You said, slipping into the other room to change into something more comfortable for bed.

“We did get this distracted.” Geralt murmured. His gaze alight by the flickering flames as he sprawled out in front of them. “I won’t stay long.”

You smiled sadly, allowing your expression to fall now he couldn’t see you. “You never do.” You whispered solemnly. But then you added on more loudly. “You know you’re welcome here anytime. For as long as you want.”

You didn’t hear his reply. If there was one at all. But as you peeked out, you found his eyes closed and chest rising and falling gently. You smiled. And closed the door to your bedroom. Going to bed with new type of loneliness in your chest.

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The next morning you woke to the sound of a lute being played. Loud enough that it had to be just outside your window in your garden. The melody was sweet and the voice that was carried with it was very familiar. You threw back your blankets and ran to the window. Peering out into the morning to find Jaskier sitting the stone wall that circled your house. The lute being strung as he sang a popular love song he sang in taverns.

You smiled and threw open your windows, being greeted by Jaskier with a wink and a wide, cheeky smile. “Geralt already beat you to the Valentines gifting. But that’s really sweet of you Jaskier.” You said with a boastful tone. The music stuttered and Jaskier almost fell off his perch. He gave you a playful glare, one that said ‘as if’. But before either of you could say something, Geralt exited the house. A coy curl lifted his lips as Jaskier gasped dramatically.

“You gave them gifts?! Where’s mine?” He demanded. Launching off the wall to follow Geralt around to the goats.

“Come meet her. She’s around the back.” Geralt replied, flashing you a smile as the two disappeared into the pen.

You waited a few seconds by your open window. Listening. “YOU NAMED A GOAT AFTER ME!”

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[bellshells]

Do Me No Wrong Part One

Part one of Do Me No Wrong, this is just entirely too big and too self serving to be one post. I guess we could call this a slow-burn now? I have thoroughly enjoyed writing this, and cannot wait to share part two with you! Pairing: Severus Snape x Fem!Reader x Remus Lupin Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smut (Masturbation, Penetrative sex), Angst(?), Suggested Polyamorous Themes Word Count: 10.7k+

  It appeared to be at first glance quite an innocent and innocuous start to the spring term. The castle had been abuzz from October to Christmas after Sirius Black had encroached the defences and found his way to Gryffindor Tower. Luckily, The Fat Lady had performed her duty and not allowed him entry; but that did nothing to quell the whispers of fear and excitement that reverberated off the ancient stone walls. You had found it difficult to look Remus in the eye. When he was present for meals that is. You had known him whilst you were a student- albeit Remus and his friends (Sirius included) had been four years older and far more important than to ever cast even a cursory glance in your direction. But still the fact remained that the four of them along with Potter and Pettigrew had been more like brothers than friends, everyone knew that. It must be immensely difficult to know that your best friend; your supposed brother in arms had escaped from the most secure facility this side of the wizarding world and had successfully broken in to the second most secure facility to murder one of your students. Not only that, the son of your other best friend who also died because of this man.

  You supposed that’s why, that first night that Remus appeared in the Great Hall, sandy hair limp around his face and dark circles under his eyes, you cleared your throat and offered him a smile. Remus returned it tightly, his eyes tired and glassy as he took his seat next to you. He smelled terrible, you turned your head to the side as inconspicuously as you could and muttered a spell under your breath, in an instant the smell was gone and although you assumed Remus would be none the wiser, you noticed as he gave a small glance in your direction. It was only when Severus appeared at the far end of the table that you noticed any change in Remus’ posture. He seemed to stiffen slightly, his chin raising in silent defiance as his hand reached greedily toward his goblet. The few interactions you had shared with Severus since you joined the Hogwarts teaching staff had done nothing to change your opinion of him. He was cold and distant when you were children and he remained unchanged these years later. It had been more than a surprise when he appeared as the new potion’s professor for your seventh year, it had only felt like five minutes since he had been a student himself, yet there he was; not so much fresh-faced as stony. He had remained as he always had; moody and unapproachable. Although, you had imagined that a man in his mid-thirties would have accumulated some conversational skills, it appeared that that had either passed Severus by, or he had deigned it unworthy of his time. In any case, you found it easier to keep out of his way, and in turn, Severus returned the favour. It almost seemed a shame. He had always come across as someone with a brilliant mind and therefore would have interesting and insightful opinions, but it had become clear very early on that if he did, he chose not to share them. Instead, you sought information or rather, gossip about him from the usual sources of Pomona and Minerva. Minerva, not readily able to forget your time as her student had refused to participate at first, but you learned swiftly that a bottle of mead and a muggle vinyl just might do the trick. Severus, a perpetual bachelor, still guarded even though the war had long since ended, nonetheless had piqued your interest almost immediately. It became apparent though, that you were indeed barking up the wrong tree.

  Remus seemed more comfortable after a while. He exchanged a few pleasantries with Hagrid as the bearded man made a clumsy attempt to request help in warding his hippogriff’s new lodging outside of his hut. Remus conceded to take a look, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes confirmation to Hagrid, and the games-keeper seemed content with that. You settled comfortably into the silence that fell over your side of the table. You often chose to sit on the very end, it made it easier to make a swift escape back to your chamber if needs be. You weren’t a head of house, neither did you teach a core subject, you had few Arithmancy students and so you found your evening often free. Not tonight though. You kept one eye on the headmaster and one eye on your muggle watch affixed to your left wrist. The ticking by of the seconds seemed arduously slow as your empty plate sat mockingly in front of you. Out of the corner of your eye, Pomona leaned forward in her chair and waved a hand in your direction. Glancing at the stout woman, she wore an excited grin. She was almost giddy as she tapped her wrist impatiently, an idiosyncrasy she had acquired from you. You bit your lip to stop the laugh that built in your chest and returned your gaze to your empty plate.   “Big plans?” A soft voice asked. Remus looked almost cheerful as he turned his attention to you from Pomona who was now practically tugging at Minerva’s sleeve like a child would do with their mother. You noticed how he seemed more like himself, the dark circles still prevalent under his green eyes, but his cheeks were flushed with pink.   “Oh yes. There’s a bottle of firewhisky with my name on it.” You replied, “I hear the Broomstick’s calling my name, if only this meal would just bloody end.” Remus sniggered and leaned toward you conspiratorially.   “I should have known alcohol would be involved. Nobody looks this happy on a Thursday…unless they have a date.” Remus whispered, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and you placed a hand on his shoulder.   “Ah, someone has clearly never been for a drink with the two biggest gossips this castle has ever seen.” You gesture to where Minerva is subtly swatting Pomona away with an affectionately stern look. “It’s amazing the things you find out.” Bringing your goblet to your lips, the tartness of the wine brought a tingling from your tongue to the tips of your toes as Remus watched you. You considered the man before you, handsome and rugged. It was impossible to ignore the dramatic scars that littered his face and hands, but with the evocation of sympathy they withdrew, was an air of mystery that was almost intoxicating. Was he dangerous, or just very unlucky? Remus seemed to take note of your appraisal of him, whether he was amused or intrigued, his face didn’t betray him. Only the slight narrowing of his eyes told of a deeper thought held within.   “And what might one learn from two inscrutable gossips?” He said, his voice low. You felt an all too familiar feeling in the base of your chest, the feeling of boisterousness as you began to gently flirt with Remus. The dishevelled man from earlier almost entirely forgotten.   “That would be telling, Professor.”

  Remus looked slowly from your eyes to your lips and back, you had danced this dance before and knew how it would end; sweaty and sated more than likely. You smirked at the thought and reclined slightly in your chair, allowing Remus’ gaze to travel with you. You had barely noticed the students rise along the stretched pews as Albus stepped down from the High Table and moved languidly towards the now open doors. You stood too, now conscious of the hundreds of pairs of eyes looking at their teachers for permission to leave. Minerva nodded curtly to the crowd and the students began to noisily disperse to their respective common rooms. You took advantage of the distraction to slip away from the hall, there is after all, the most fun in the chase. You pondered silently to yourself as you dressed and made your way to the courtyard; if the flirtatious nature of your conversation with Remus had been by design a distraction technique of his own. He had seemed in a sorry state when he had arrived that evening, having been absent for the best part of a week. Alongside that, he had never much taken an interest in you beyond the professional up until that point and whilst you enjoyed the interaction, you weren’t convinced.

  Minerva was the first to join you, her emerald cloak snatched tightly to her chest in the brisk evening. She rolled her eyes as she approached you, a grimace settling on her face as she boldly lifted your wrist to her face and checked the time under the moonlight.   “She’s hounded me all evening to get out of the castle, its typical that she would be late.” Minerva sniffed as she folded her arms across her chest. You laughed once in agreement and enquired of her day, this earned another eye roll from the older witch confirming your suspicions that a stiff drink would be in order. Pomona came bounding out of the darkness, her hat slightly skewwhiff in her hurry and her breathless apology as she approached was all that was said before the three of you began towards Hogsmeade. The Three Broomstick’s was busy, busier than you had anticipated it to be on a Thursday in the middle of January. You craned your neck to see an available table, Pomona doing the same.   “Well, this simply won’t do.” Minerva muttered as she strode towards the bar. Madame Rosmerta gave a wry smile as she saw the three of you approach, she gestured over into the far corner where a single man sat nursing a tumbler of a russet looking liquid. You quirked an eyebrow as the man cheerfully lifted his glass to the three witches in welcome, Pomona nearly squealed with excitement as she bounced over to him. Minerva, who remained in her spot groaned. “Is there to be no reprieve?”

  Remus gestured to the three empty seats at his table with a wide smile. You shook your head in disbelief as you slowly sank into the waiting chair opposite him. He looked far better than he had done earlier that evening, he seemed to have bathed and shaved and appeared rather pleasant looking as he waved to Rosmerta and mimed a bottle and four glasses.   “Ladies, what a most welcome surprise!” Remus grinned wolfishly, his face seemed perfectly amiable, but his eyes glistened with something else, a glee that betrayed a thought that maybe their flirtation wasn’t as innocent as you previously had thought.   “If I’d have known you were coming Remus, I would have worn my good hat!” Pomona said with a smile, her cheeks rosy from the chill outside.   “You look positively radiant, Pomona.” Remus crooned; the plump witch’s face alight with the warmth of the compliment. She pat Remus’ hand affectionately and readily accepted the glass that was placed in front of her. “Allow me.” Remus poured two fingers of firewhisky into the three empty glasses and raised his own in a toast. “To unexpected meetings.” The sound of the clinking of glass reverberated through your body, his fingers electric against yours as they touched in a fleeting moment. Your breath hitched in your throat, it shocked you how your cheeks began to warm, and your stomach began to do small flips. Remus’ eyes, now more golden than green never left your face as if in silent appraisal of his effect on you. He seemed satisfied with the reaction as he smirked into his glass and allowed his attention to be captured by Minerva as she asked about his leave of absence.

  It wasn’t until your return journey to the castle that Remus initiated any further physical contact with you. The evening had passed how they usually do, the three friends exchanging stories and conspiring, laughing lots and drinking more. Now, feeling like your body was filled more with whisky than blood did Remus offer his arm to you. You took it gratefully, the two older women huddled together further ahead on the road as the snow began to fall upon the already picturesque village. With your hand in the crook of his elbow, Remus guided you over the unsteady cobbles only laughing lightly when you nearly lost your footing. His fingers found yours and although this could be perceived as a perfectly practical way in ensuring your safety, his touch seemed to burn your skin; it sent heat right the way through you. You were sure your heartbeat was audible to him, as it pounded aggressively in your ears as you moved closer into him, his torso flush with yours. You snuck a glance under your eyelashes up into the face of Remus Lupin, famed friend of two dead men and a mass murderer. His scars were silver in the moonlight, his face calm he weathered the terrain. You wanted to say something, anything to him; but nothing came. Instead, you continued to allow him to guide you while you peered up at this enigma of a man.

  Minerva searched over her shoulder when you approached the school grounds, satisfied that she could see you safely behind her, she waved goodbye. The snow was falling heavily now, thick spirals of white stuck in your hair, landing on your lips and freezing you to the core. You removed your hand from Remus’ grasp and waved back, Pomona beckoning Minerva inside to the warmth, no doubt to have a nightcap in the Gryffindor mistress’ office. Alone for the first time, Remus ushered you along the path of the courtyard to the covered corridor overlooking the lake which had this week begun to thaw, although with the sudden frost this night, it seemed unlikely now.   “You were right,” Remus stated after a while, his hands wound their way to his pockets, and he lifted himself onto the balls of his feet in an attempt to gain warmth in movement. When you didn’t answer, he licked his lips. “About how informative those two are. I’ve got enough dirt on people to have my lessons covered for weeks.” He grinned again, this time you noticed, it reached his eyes. You wondered whether Remus needed this as much as you did. It’s easy to let yourself get caught up in teenage drama when you’re drowning in it, but you suspected for him it must be something more. It wasn’t your place to pry of course, and Remus didn’t offer to divulge but you felt content in having potentially done a good deed.   “I’m sure your formal invitation to join us next week will be on your desk in the morning, if Pomona has anything to do with it.” You laughed and turned your back to the lake, it seemed far easier to keep your head held up straight if you leaned against the stone wall. Remus seemed to notice this and immediately reached his arms out to steady you.   “Never mind that, looks like someone will be dropping in to see Poppy in the morning.” He retorted as he attempted to stop your swaying. You had thought that the cold might sober you up, but that mixed in with a sudden overwhelming tiredness has left you almost dead on your feet.   “That’s the beauty of teaching an elective course,” you managed to get out as Remus near pulled you along the corridors, “My timetable is pretty sparse on Fridays. No lessons until after lunch.” You said smugly. Your eyes were fully closed now, if you were able and alone, you probably could have just set up camp here on the floor and been perfectly comfortable. But alas, Remus pushed onwards.

  A distant miaow stopped you dead in your tracks, Remus fumbled with his footing and slammed into the wall. He cursed and rubbed his arm absently as he peered at your stricken face, he attempted to talk but you held up a finger to stop him.   “Mrs. Norris.” You whispered gravely. Remus looked bemused as he looked both ways along the corridor.   “I think the coast is clear,” he whispered equally as seriously, he took your hand and squeezed it tightly urging you onwards.   “Filch once made me clean every toilet in every girl’s bathroom in my sixth year.” You shuddered at the memory, no wand just a pair of pink rubber gloves and a mouldy toilet brush.   “Blimey, what did you do?” You pondered whether to tell him the truth, that Filch had caught you on the edge of the Forbidden Forest after curfew with Gilderoy Lockheart. You would never forget the look of abject horror on the boy’s face as Filch emerged from the trees waving a lantern wildly whilst Lockheart’s hand was quite firmly in your knickers.   “Got caught with a boy.” You mumbled instead not meeting his eyes, Lockheart had been a numpty in school and even bigger one when he left by all accounts, but it was nasty business that led to Remus filling the position at Hogwarts. You had tried hard to suppress the fleeting dalliance you had shared with Lockheart, teenagers and their bloody hormones you had chalked it up to.   “Happens to the best of us,” Remus said brightly, “Your chamber is down here, isn’t it?” You hadn’t noticed that Remus had managed to escort you nearly to your door, you smiled at him gratefully.   “Yes, thank you,” You broke away from him and held on to the wall for support, your legs nearly giving way. “Woah-”   “Let me just-” Remus mumbled, more to himself than to you, you imagined. He placed an arm on the small of your back and guided you down the dimly lit corridor. Your fingers felt the cold stone give way to the wood of your chamber door and you fumbled for the handle, suddenly anxious of the man stood very close to you. That; turned out to be a very sobering thought. Was Remus expecting to be invited inside? It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to come inside, you had spent the last however long quietly being affected by every small touch, every slightly lingering look- but surely you were far too drunk to be engaging in anything other than sleep, surely, he would understand that. That wasn’t to say there wasn’t a part of you that wanted nothing more than to invite Remus inside and take him into your bed. He was a large man, tall and well built. Your eyes raked down his body and returned to his face. You felt a familiar throbbing between your legs in want, as you squeezed your thighs together.   “I would…I would normally-” You began, it was Remus’ turn to hold a hand up to stop you. He brushed his fingers across your bottom lip, this small gesture elicited a soft moan from you. His green-golden eyes now dark as he brought his face impossibly close to yours.   “Just a kiss…may I?” He breathed, you nodded slowly, utterly entranced by this intriguing man. Remus dropped his head down and gently pressed his lips to yours. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, it wasn’t a kiss filled with longing, but it felt completely natural and comforting that in that moment this particular man would be kissing you.

  “I would say I’m surprised, but I would of course, be lying.” A snide voice in the distance shattered this perfect moment in an instant. You turned your head in the direction of the voice and saw Severus stood, wand raised in Lumos and a small bottle covered in hemp cloth in his free hand.   “Severus.” Remus breathed; it wasn’t a greeting. There was an edge to his voice that made you think that it was a warning. You looked between the two men slightly confused, but on the whole far too tired to distinguish what on earth was happening. “Can I help you with something?” Severus merely shrugged and then held out his hand allowing you to get a good look at the cloth covered bottle. It was fairly large but must have been quite delicate to be wrapped so securely.   “For you.” Severus said disinterestedly. He waited; his arm still outstretched for Remus to move away from you. The chill of the wind that wound its way throughout the castle walls hit you immediately in the absence of Remus’ body heat. You shrunk as far as you could into the door, suddenly embarrassed to have been caught. Severus continued to stare at Remus until you cleared your throat to break the silence. It felt like hours, although it can’t have been more than a few seconds. Remus pocketed the bottle carefully and turned his back to the potions master, he looked at you earnestly.   “I had a really good time tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked, he looked hopeful and yet there was something else in his expression. Like he was annoyed to have been interrupted, or perhaps he was annoyed that he had kissed you in the first place.   “Yeah,” you replied, your voice slightly strained. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Remus nodded at you and began to walk back the way you had come, his short cloak flowing behind him until he entered the darkness, and you couldn’t see him anymore. You turned toward your chamber door and noticed Severus was still there, his wand raised to the same level of your face. His brow furrowed in an expression you would take as concern in anybody else, but with Severus you couldn’t be sure.   “Do you require any assistance?” He said curtly, his voice was low, but you could almost imagine it was soft.   “No thank you, Severus. I think I’ll manage from here.” Your fingers once again found the handle and you turned it with ease, the door opened to reveal your dark chamber. Severus waved his wand once into the blackness, and every candle within your rooms flickered into life. You turned to him with a wry smile and thanked him. Before you could close the door on this bizarre exchange with Severus Snape, he placed a hand on your arm. You looked down at where his body made contact with yours curiously, his long fingers seemed to wrap around your wrist perfectly and a small thrill fluttered down your back as he squeezed.   “Be careful around Lupin,” Severus whispered, “He’s never been one for controlling his…urges.” You arched an eyebrow and looked up into the onyx eyes that peered thoughtfully into your own.   “And you?” You had no idea what made you say that. Instant repulsion at yourself slithered over your skin as you mentally kicked yourself. Interestingly though, Severus licked his lips as he considered his answer. Your heartbeat quickened in anticipation of what he would say, his face drawn close enough to yours to feel his breath on your face. It was impossible to not stare at the man’s lips, they were so close to yours after all. Another jolt of need spread between your legs, you stifled the moan that threatened to escape as Severus backed you against the cold stone wall.   “I have no issues with control. I expect nothing less than…total control in every aspect of my life.” With that, Severus turned on his heel and with three quick strides, you were alone.

Fuck.

You undressed quickly climbed hastily into bed. Your heart pounded quickly in your chest, as the knot of arousal that you had felt as soon as you had arrived at your chamber door became too difficult to ignore. Usually, if you would pleasure yourself, it would be an entire affair. An act of self-love, a hot bath, envisioning the perfect scenario but now, as you plunged your hand into your sopping underwear, none of that mattered. It was impossible not to think about the taste of Remus still on your lips as you rubbed frantic circles on your clitoris, your back arched, your mouth fell open as you moaned. As quick as the image of Remus had entered your mind, it was replaced with the memory of Severus’ firm grasp of you, the way he had manhandled you into submission. You balled the sheets in your fingers as you inserted one, then two fingers into your aching centre. Reaching up to your breasts, you rolled a stiffened nipple around your nimble fingers, squeezing it as you filled your cunt to the knuckle. You moaned with abandon, which presumably was the effect from the alcohol, but nevertheless, you fucked yourself thoroughly with your fingers. When you came, you cried out incoherently, a sound you had never heard yourself make before. You couldn’t picture one mans face over the other, imagining spilling their seed over your breasts, or deep inside you- you imagined both of them at once. It was sublime.

  The next seven days passed without incident. Remus wasn’t so much distant as perhaps guarded; there was no mention of the kiss you had shared, nor the strange pseudo-altercation between he and Severus. You pondered long hours in your warm chamber, the fire roared contentedly casting shadows that danced across the high walls. The mug of tea in your hand a reminder of home, your muggle parents had sent you a box of teabags for Christmas as part as a larger ‘care package’. Your mother had laughed when she handed you a largeish box filled with things like tea and crisps, you had even found some alcoholic miniatures and sweets from your youth tucked away at the very bottom. She had given you a smirk and said, ‘Sometimes magic can be found in the ordinary,’. You eyed the box carefully; it was incredibly thoughtful, and you relished it fervently. There was nothing you enjoyed more than curling up on your hardbacked armchair in front of the fire and rummaging through to be delighted in the muggle comforts from home.

  You had taken a Curly Wurly into the staff room that afternoon and nibbled on it idly as you mulled over a few student essays. Severus had entered with his usual flurry of dark robes and general unpleasantness and settled quietly into a corner. You hadn’t so much as looked in his direction since that night outside of your chamber, and he hadn’t looked at you either. That was, until you lifted your eyes to check the sizable grandfather clock, its pendulum swinging ominously on the second and found he was openly staring at you. His jaw was firmly set, and his brow furrowed once more. After a second, he blinked, like he had surprised himself by something akin to mild vulnerability. You followed his gaze, it wasn’t on you specifically, but on the long chocolate bar in your hand. You looked from your grasp to Severus’ face, he too seemed to shift his expression to meet your eyes, a fleeting sheepishness danced across his face as he swallowed with difficultly.   “I haven’t seen one of those in years,” Severus stated, his hands were clasped tightly in his lap. You brought the chocolate to your lips and took a bite, the caramel of the intricately woven design pulled away in long strands. You licked at the excess that settled on your lips, you watched with amusement as veins protruded in Severus’ neck. It was quite easy to forget that Severus himself was a half-blood, dragged rather than brought up in the muggle world.   “You’ve been missing out.” You replied quietly as you crossed your legs. Severus shifted in his seat, his robes flowed fluidly around him, a vision in black and white. The back of your neck seemed to warm as Severus’ dark eyes scoured your frame, his angular face could be dismissed as unappealing, but he had the stoicism of an innate marble statue, a roman god or some other. The closer you looked, and really looked, it was impossible to see him as anything other than he was, captivating. Severus seemed to notice the shift in your stature, the way your fingers tightened around the papers you still clung on to, the way the parchment bent and swayed under your gentle trembling.   “Perhaps I have.” He said darkly.

  That night, before you made your way to meet with Minerva and Pomona for your weekly outing you made a diversion toward the dungeons. Tucked neatly under your arm, was a brown padded envelope, usually suited for sending packages on long journeys. Instead, it was full to the brim of chocolate from your care package, all the things you knew you loved as a child that you imagined Severus would have enjoyed too. Your hand shook slightly as you knocked on the door to his office, it wasn’t particularly late, but you noted that he hadn’t made an appearance at dinner. When no sound came from the office, you gently pushed the door open. The room was as to be expected, dark and filled almost to bursting of various tomes and artefacts. You crossed the room hurriedly, anxious to not get caught out of bounds. You tried explicitly hard not to pry as you crossed over to Severus’ desk, it was surprisingly neat and left everything to the imagination. You placed the envelope on the desk, ensuring that the little note was safe inside before quickly turning and leaving it behind you.

  Remus hadn’t joined you that Friday, it was just the usual suspects. You had found it increasingly difficult to focus on the conversation that flowed freely between the two women. Your mind wandered back to two main thoughts; where was Remus and what was actually going on? And why Severus had suddenly deigned you worthy of his attention? It all seemed so impossibly twee; the idea that you found yourself rattled by the slightest attention of two men that you were almost angry at yourself. Besides, how many times had you crawled out of a stranger’s bed at the first wisps of daybreak? One little kiss shouldn’t be any different. Severus on the other hand hadn’t offered you anything more than a few long looks since that afternoon in the staff room, yet you were plagued with thoughts of the two men. Neither like any man you had encountered before, and yet so remarkably different in every way. Minerva, having noticed your long silence offered you a quizzical look.   “What’s troubling you?” She said pointedly, Pomona ceased talking immediately, and turned to face you with a look one could only describe as hunger. You shrugged and took a sip of your wine; you were desperate to not be as hungover this Friday. Your seventh years had proven to be quite difficult last week, and if you could do anything to not have a repeat of Jenkinson’s smart mouth affecting you so; you would. “Don’t presume to think I was born yesterday,” Minerva continued, her shoulders squared which made her look that inch more terrifying, “I can smell a rat a mile off.”    “I wouldn’t dare jump to any such conclusions. I am simply lamenting over my love-life, or lack thereof.” You replied, your expression sickly sweet which earned a maternal huff from the older woman. Pomona seemed to miss the small tete-a-tete and instead clapped her hands together with glee.   “I demand you tell us everything at once!”

  There was something of a comfort to be found in relaying the past week’s events to the witches, Minerva’s usually stern expression shifted into something softer as you told them everything except for the strange bottle Severus had delivered to Remus.   “Well, that is definitely something different,” she said after small silence, “Especially coming from Severus. I was beginning to think he didn’t have any manly urges.”   “Nonsense, Severus is a strapping young lad, nobody knows what he gets up to outside of the castle. I imagine two old biddies like us would certainly be the last to find out, in any case!” Pomona countered, she rested her chin against her palm, her face dreamlike as if imagining the brooding man’s sex life.   “And quite rightly so!” Minerva said, her tone was laced with embarrassed threat as she stood from the table and marched toward the door. And so, nothing more was said on the matter that night.

  The Saturday morning after your thankfully not-so-disastrous Friday lessons with your seventh years passed idly. You kept much to yourself, the weather was again near freezing, although most of the students had travelled into Hogsmeade. The castle was quiet, undisturbed, and as the next thick sheet of snow settled onto the grounds, you huddled close to your window to watch as in quick flurries the snowflakes settled onto a blanket of pure white. It wasn’t until the third knock at your door did you decide to stop pretending you weren’t in, whoever was on the other side was obviously very insistent and you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if there was an emergency. On the other side of the door stood a cheerful Remus, his hair was damp from the snow and his cheeks painted with pink from the chill. He looked every inch the dashing English countryman as he brushed stray snowflakes from his shoulders. You couldn’t explain the quickness of your heart as you invited him inside, the same thunderous heartbeat you had experienced that night in Hogsmeade returned in full force, and you cursed yourself for feeling so foolish.   “To what do I owe the pleasure?” You asked as calmly as you could as you summoned a teapot and a pair of mugs. Remus accepted the tea readily and wasted no time in settling close to the fire.   “I was on my way for a walk to the lake, and I wondered whether you wanted to join me?” It was hard to imagine that he held any ulterior motives as he reclined in your armchair, all red nosed and grins. It was alarming how quickly you agreed, despite taking no real pleasure from walking in the cold. Yet, you soon found yourself wrapped up warmly and struggling to keep pace with the tall man as he dodged expertly over the terrain. He was largely silent as you continued along the path to the lake, he offered a few beige commentaries on the weather and you responded with as much enthusiasm as you could muster. It was difficult, you found, to keep pace with the tall man. Remus’ long legs set his pace at twice the speed of yours, and after a while of trying to conceal your breathlessness, did he slow and offer his arm to you. You huddled close to him, it seemed as though his body radiated a warmth like an oasis in the desert. Remus untangled his arm from yours, instead deciding to hold your gloved hand instead; his fingers squeezed tightly around yours as the lake came into view. A few students littered the area in small groups, the sound of their merriment was enough to bring a smile to your face. It seemed like yesterday that you yourself were a student at Hogwarts; thirty was an ever-approaching nightmare that plagued your dreams daily, had it really been nearly thirteen years since you left the hallowed halls of Hogwarts and joined Gringotts as an apprentice Curse-Breaker?   “Penny for your thoughts?” Remus said, you glanced up at him, he wore a bemused look as you pushed the settled snow from a bench and delicately sat. Foolish as it was, seeing as now you were piss-wet through, the realisation that you were getting old had knocked you for six. Remus patted the seat next to you tentatively before he ultimately decided to join you.   “Do you ever feel like your life just runs away from you? Like one minute, you’re positively frazzled over Transfiguration homework and the next you’re stressed about how you’re going to afford so many weddings this year because suddenly, you’ve reached an age where everyone’s settling down and shitting out kids!” You bit hard on the inside of your cheek, you hadn’t meant to be so forward, certainly not with Remus, but he let out a great big laugh before turning to you animatedly.   “Exactly! It feels like I was just handed my Prefect badge and now-” He faltered; his gaze lifted to the heavens. A flash of pain danced across Remus’ face as he shook his head and swallowed whatever he was going to say. “I don’t remember you much from school.” You were surprised by that; you didn’t expect him to remember you at all; but you expected him to want to save face as you were colleagues.   “I’m not surprised, you had long left before I did anything interesting.” You said as you playfully bumped into his shoulder with your own.   “Ah yes, you mentioned the other night that Filch had caught you with a boy?” Remus’ raised the pitch of his voice as he tormented you, it was his turn to bump you. You covered your eyes with your hands and let out a great groan.   “Merlin, I’d hoped you would have forgotten that.”   “Not on your life. Now, I’m going to need you to tell me all the sordid details.”   “There’s nothing sordid…well, not that sordid, really,” You protested, you couldn’t stop the grin that formed on your lips, it was matched well with the smile that Remus wore. He gazed at you intently as you considered the best way to explain. “Filch caught me in the Forbidden Forest after curfew-”   “With a boy.”   “Yes, Remus, with a boy.” You sighed with faux exasperation; Remus looked near giddy as he clapped his hands.   “Fantastic, who were they? Do I know them? What were you doing?” He asked, each question filled you with feeling of stupidity, it was the single most mortifying moment of your life and you were willingly discussing it.   “Yes, you know them, and we were having an…intimate moment.” You hoped that would be enough to quell his questioning, but it appeared to only spur Remus on he appeared to be bouncing in his seat now.   “Please don’t make me go through a list of people from your year at school, what were you- three years younger than us?”   “Four.” You corrected. Remus seemed to consider this for a moment before his green eyes seemed to darken, and he smirked devilishly.   “I’ll tell you what. If I can guess who the lucky bloke was, you have to come for a drink with me. Tonight.   “And if you can’t?”   “I’m sure you’ll think of an appropriate forfeit.” Remus had brought his face extremely close to yours, you could feel his breath tickle your face. It would be so easy to close the distance, to press your lips to his, but a chorus of whooping from behind where the pair of you sat, shattered any illusions of intimacy. Remus turned toward the students sheepishly, he produced his wand and cast a spell that shook the trees which surrounded the lake, causing a cascade of snow to fall on the students. He stood and offered you his hand.   “Let me escort you back to your rooms, while I think. What house was he in?” He said, and you thought back to the wavy-haired blonde boy who tried to desperately hard to impress.   “Ravenclaw.”   “Hm. That slims the pickings down a bit.”

    Remus still hadn’t been able to guess correctly and when he was confident that he would need more time, he proposed a 24-hour extension. You had pushed him along the corridor with a laugh and a wave, fairly certain that he would ultimately find out about Lockheart, but the look of mischief on his face as he waved in return was such a far cry from the man that shuffled into dinner a week ago, you couldn’t help but be content. With almost a wistful air, you watched as he disappeared behind the corner until you turned to your chamber door. If it hadn’t been for your wet boots squelching heavily onto the stone floor, you would have entirely missed the folded parchment that lay slightly soggy having been thrust under the door in an apparent hurry. You took time to remove your outer layers, kicking your boots off and discarding them where you stood before you retrieved the parchment. You felt a heat rise from the base of your neck all the way up to your ears as instantly, you recognised the fluid handwriting etched across the page.

    I humbly thank you for your thoughtful offering. In return, I request your presence of a nightcap in my quarters this evening after dinner. The password is ‘tradite’, I shall expect you before nine o’clock.

Severus

    Keeping your head down during dinner was proving to be more difficult than you had initially imagined. You didn’t know what had possessed you, but underneath a billowy cloak was a figure-hugging-in-all-the-right-places muggle dress, it showed off your best assets yet left enough to the imagination. It was something you wouldn’t think twice about wearing if you were to go out with your muggle friends from your hometown, but here, amongst these wizards whose fashion choices were questionable at best, you felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb. You wondered if anyone would notice how closely you tugged the fabric of your cloak around your torso, desperate to hide what lay beneath. Remus certainly noticed there was something off with you, he had made an obvious beeline to the empty seat next to you and had tried to engage you in conversation many times, but the truth was plain as day; you felt guilty.

  Not even twelve hours ago had you been sat by the lake with Remus, and now with one invitation from Severus you were jittering like a schoolgirl who’d been asked to meet behind the quidditch stands. It wasn’t clear what it was about Severus exactly that returned you to a puddle of hormones, but you felt it as soon as you had been reintroduced as colleagues all those years later. Yet, hadn’t you felt that with Remus too? After replying to the sandy-haired man for the fourth time that you were fine, just tired, you grimaced into your bread-and-butter pudding. There was something about Severus’ invitation that triggered an excited itch along your skin, and only he would know how to scratch it. There was of course, the obvious question of what on earth constituted at a nightcap? Was he going to give you another warning about Remus? What about Remus? You hadn’t even considered what Severus had meant by his warning, you certainly hadn’t heard any stories about him being a womanizer, or ever having a partner for that matter. You pondered his scars as you tried, as deftly as you could, to get a good look at him from the corner of your eye. Remus was littered with them, whilst the scars across his face were quite pronounced, there weren’t many. But- the scars on his hands and forearms were numerous, there didn’t seem to be an inch of skin without a purple-silver line looking back at you. Maybe he was a fighter? He had played his part in the war, like you all had, but maybe his was a part that was especially dangerous? Perhaps, that’s what Severus meant after all. War changes people, Severus of all people should remember that.

  That didn’t stop you feeling guilty though. It ravaged away at your insides as you continued to push your spoon around your bowl, you had thought that perhaps after this morning, there was an avenue worth exploring with Remus. Now, as you watched Severus rise from the High Table and move stealthily along the lines of teachers, your stomach flipped, and your pulse quickened.   “Lupin.” Severus nodded as he passed, he didn’t say anything in acknowledgement to you, but you noticed the glance in your direction, the slight quirk at the side of his mouth. Soon, Severus had disappeared, and Remus scoffed.   “Boils my piss, he does,” he said as he took a hearty sip of his mead, the veins in his temple protruding slightly. “Lording over us like that, dickhead.” You were quite taken aback by Remus’ outburst; you had never known animosity between them before or since that night outside of your rooms. Nothing had been said, and you had put it down to you having had one to many and misconstruing the situation.   “He literally said your name.” You countered, not completely comfortable with Remus’ tone.   “Aye, and I want my name kept from his mouth, the greasy git.” You opened your mouth to respond yet thought better of it. Whatever it was that had transpired between the pair of them had nothing to do with you, and you couldn’t think of anything worse than having to pick sides. Especially since Severus had now taken an interest in you, something you had tried to make happen when you first started teaching but failed miserably. It was happening now, and Remus could be damned if you weren’t at least going to get to the bottom of this invitation.

  You didn’t bother to wait for the headmaster to call an end to dinner, instead you mumbled an excuse and moved quickly toward the dungeons. Despite having been a teacher for a number of years, there was something about the dungeons that filled you with dread. Whether it was the memories of your sheer mediocrity at potions, or consistently failing to be noticed by Professor Slughorn, there was something that set your teeth on edge. You passed your old potions classroom without looking in, it was almost like you could forget that that class existed, and pretend that of course, you were excellent at everything whilst you were at school. Severus’ rooms were hidden to anyone who wasn’t looking for them, a dark wooden door appeared out of the near blackness of the unlight stone and remained closed. Did you really want to do this? You had wrestled with the fact that you were potentially pissing any chance of anything happening with Remus while you pursued Severus. There was just something very hard to ignore about the potions master, something electrifying.   “Tradite.” You said clearly into the darkness, the click of a lock being turned was the only sound other than the distant almost muffled sound of the groaning lake. The door opened steadily, Severus’ chamber was warm, although, you weren’t quite sure if you were expecting the opposite. He stood with his back to the door, his head bowed and seemingly unaware of your arrival. You wondered whether he would appreciate a polite greeting; if he would want you to wait until he noticed you. After all, he had mentioned that he liked to have control in everything. That was a statement you had never questioned, it just seemed so perfectly fitting that you just took it at face value. It was the thoughts that were conjured alongside that, that you had to suppress.

  You weren’t entirely sure how long you waited, realistically, it couldn’t have been that long. But the steady stream of student’s footsteps returning to their common room was an indicator that it had probably been around five minutes.   “Why haven’t you said anything?” Severus asked after a while. It shocked you, you had completely glazed over, it hadn’t occurred to you that you were still just stood in the doorway. You cleared your throat.   “Didn’t want to disturb you.”   “How thoughtful.” He sneered, but you didn’t detect any malice behind it. Severus Snape was the undisputed king of dry humour and you willed that to be the case here. “Come in. Take off your cloak.” You did as you were bid, slipping the dark cloak from your shoulders, you allowed Severus to take it from you. You were acutely aware of his eyes on your body as he moved with a deft quietness and gestured for you to sit. His rooms, not so dissimilar to yours in layout were far larger and by comparison, full wall to wall with things. It wasn’t untidy, but a sort of organised chaos that endeared Severus to you. His interests and objects of his taste scattered almost peacefully, as if inviting you to take a look. You settled into the armchair by the fire, the fabric a worn Slytherin green leather which matched the sofa which sat opposite. The fire, which was still quite small spat embers behind the wrought hearth and sizzled contentedly to itself.   “Would you like some wine?” He asked from somewhere behind, “I have a lovely Pinot Noir.”   “That would be lovely, thank you.” You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being scrutinised, it wasn’t unlike the feeling of an interview; like he was somehow sizing you up. Although you couldn’t see him from where you were situated, the intense feel of eyes burning into the back of your head was unmistakable. Perhaps it was your intuition as a woman that allowed you to know that as you crossed one leg over the other and placed your hands elegantly on the armrests of the chair, that he noticed. But not only that, that he appreciated it.

  Severus made you wait for it. You heard him as he opened and closed cupboard doors, the clink of glass and the sound of a bottle being corked; it was all for the theatre of anticipation. You knew this, you had done this very thing time and time again in preparation but for what, with him- you couldn’t quite say. The same thrill that you had felt that night he had grasped your wrist returned fervently and your mouth salivated with need. Finally, he appeared within your line of sight. He too, had removed his outer layer, dressed smartly in his frock coat he lowered a glass half full of the ruby liquid, tapping his glass on the side of yours with cheers. Severus made his way painfully slowly to the sofa, he sat on the edge furthest from you and mirrored your position, one leg crossed neatly over the other. You hoped your proximity to the fire would account for the flush on your cheeks as you regarded this man, this studious and distant man as he considered your frame just as openly.   “Thank you for the invitation, Severus. I must admit, it was most unexpected.” Your voice was calm and unbroke, and you were thankful for it. Your heart thundered in your chest and you hoped upon hope that he couldn’t notice the slight tremble of your hand as you brought your wine glass to your lips. Upon reflection, talking with Remus was much easier than with Severus. There was just something so typically wholesome about him, which, when you remembered what he had been like as a young man in school seemed to make sense. But with Severus, there was something akin to danger, you didn’t necessarily feel like he would harm you, no- not at all; but there was always an edge to his words, a double meaning behind his looks. Like there was a joke that perhaps you didn’t understand, perhaps another meaning entirely.   “You’re very welcome. I wanted to thank you personally for your kindness.” He said, his dark baritone seemed most fitting within the confines of his personal space. Like suddenly all the pieces fit together and of course Severus would look and sound the way he did, wasn’t it obvious? “May I ask what you are thinking about? You wear a look of great consideration.” You smiled as demurely as you could muster at his questioning, why were you there if not to talk?   “I was thinking about you.” You said as plainly as you could, you were conscious not to give anything away in terms of exactly how you were thinking of the potions master. But in truth, it had been impossible not to think about him. Remus too. It appeared to be in the space of only a few days that any time you found your mind wandering, it wandered to these two men. Who they were exactly under the sturdy mask of professionalism, what they liked; did they like you?   “Me? Why?”   “I was thinking how nice it was to see you so relaxed, Severus.” You replied softly, you meant it too. A silence settled between the pair of you, and you wondered if you had overstepped the mark, whether that was too informal for his liking. Severus carefully wet his lips and pressed them together into a line. His usual measured look replaced with something else.   “If I may so bold-”   “I like bold.” He smirked as you interrupted him, you wished for him to say whatever it was that was on his mind. You longed to know whether you had consumed his thoughts as much as he had consumed yours.   “If I may be so bold,” Severus began again, his fingers tapping lightly on his thigh, drawing your attention briefly away from his angular face. You noticed for the first time how well structured his body was, his thighs were well proportioned to the width of his torso and seemed to fill his trousers pleasantly. “There’s nothing like a nice glass of wine and the view of a pretty girl to relax you.” He sipped his wine, his eyes never leaving your face. You hoped your expression didn’t betray how startled you felt. It was like your mind was blank, you had forgotten how to blink, how to breathe, just for a moment; you were malfunctioning.   “You think I’m pretty?” Severus smirked at you.   “I think you’re beautiful.”

  You sat in silence after that. Every fibre of your being was screaming at you to say something, to thank him for his compliment, to comment on the wine- anything. Instead, you stared uneasily into the fire, annoyed with yourself.   “Have I made you uncomfortable?” Severus asked breaking the silence, your head whipped in his direction. His expression seemed passive, but you noticed the slight downwards tilt of his mouth, as if he were to frown.   “Not in the slightest!” You said hastily, you set your wine onto the floor and clasped your hands in your lap. “I suppose I wasn’t expecting you to say something like that. It just caught me off-guard.” Severus barked a laugh in response and patted the sofa next to him, you rose quickly and moved across to him. You cursed yourself for appearing needy, eager to please, but the look of satisfaction on Severus’ face spoke volumes. He was pleased with you, and that made your insides flutter with warmth. He placed a hand tentatively on your knee as you sat down, you gasped at the contact, but his hand was warm and soft against your bare skin.   “You look radiant, this evening.” Severus hummed over the rim of his wine glass. There was something hypnotic about his movements, you watched with a desperate intensity as he did the most mundane things, like swill his glass or flick a piece of fluff from his jacket. This wizard had well and truly put a spell on you, and you were at his mercy.   “Thank you,” you answered after a while of staring at Severus. His bemused expression signalled that he knew exactly what was racing through your thoughts. “Did you enjoy your Curly Wurlys?” Severus really laughed at that, he placed the hand that had previously been held on your knee over his eyes and smiled. A rare and beautiful thing indeed, Severus’ Snape’s smile.   “I was most impressed by the assortment, things I had forgotten long about. It was very kind of you,” He stopped as if he needed to be careful with what he said next, “I wanted to repay you.”   “Your company is payment enough, Severus.”

It wasn’t until his hand reappeared this time on your thigh, that you noticed that you had turned your body toward him. Your leg slightly bent at the knee tucked under the other, your hips fully locked on the target.   “I had hoped you would say that.” Severus whispered, “I apologise if I’ve ever appeared standoffish toward you, I find it difficult to engage in small talk. I just don’t see the necessity.” You weren’t sure if he was allowing you to see some vulnerability, or whether he was just stating a fact, but you nodded your head all the same. “The truth is,” He continued, “I had always thought you were quite interesting. Even whilst we were students, you were fiercely kind and dare I say it, popular.”   “You remember me? I didn’t think that anybody would have ever taken any notice of me- back then at least. I was just a nobody.” You said softly as you offered Severus a smile. You were touched that he remembered you, or at least professed to. Its more than Remus could say for himself.   “So was I.” Severus statement stopped you in your tracks. It was no secret that he was mercilessly bullied in school, everybody knew of Snivellus. But, he was right, did anybody actually know him? You nodded in agreement, and he offered you a small smile, his hand giving your thigh a small squeeze.   “Does this mean we’re friends now?” You asked in a small voice, it was meant as a joke but the sentiment remained.   “I don’t have friends. Only allies and enemies.” Severus answered with another sip of wine. You swept your gaze over his face, finally settling on his onyx eyes, the way they bore into yours made you feel as if you were aflame.   “Which am I?”   “Neither. You are you. One couldn’t ask for anything better.”

  Severus slowly brought his lips to yours; his lips were soft and gentle as you shifted to gain a better purchase of his frame. Your hands travelled from his chest to his head, your fingers winding round the raven tresses of hair and he gasped into your mouth. He pulled you closer and as skilfully as you could, you straddled him- Severus hands firmly planted on your backside. He rubbed confident circles against the soft fabric, and you rolled your hips against his lap. It was delicious; the feeling of friction on your cunt was entirely welcome. It had been quite a while before it had seen any attention from anyone other than your own hand, the resigned feeling you had regarding the hold Severus had on you changed in to one of complete and utter want. He brought a hand up and cupped your breast through your dress, you hissed at the contact and Severus took advantage of the loss of your lips and began to kiss deeply along the side of your throat, taking sections of skin between his teeth and sucking hard. You were quite insistent in your actions, unabashedly grinding against Severus’ hardened cock. You could feel it, the way it strained against the fabric of his trousers. You couldn’t help the pathetic mewl that escaped your lips as Severus began to guide your hips, his lips turned into a snarl as with heavy lids he watched as you brought yourself to orgasm.   “Beautiful.” He whispered, lifting a lock of your hair and placing it behind your shoulder where he liberally placed kisses.

  Panting, you brought his lips to yours. Your hands fumbled down to where the clasp of his trousers was easily undone despite your trembling hands. He lifted his hips whilst you momentarily dismounted him to pull his trousers and underwear to his knees. His cock, thick and pink bobbed angrily against his pubic bone, almost as if it demanded your attention. You pressed forward again, your lips finding his with ease as he positioned you back over his lap, his cock pressed against your wetness. With a gruff murmur, your underwear was vanished and you groaned with anticipation. It was impossible to say where your moan began and his finished, but as Severus guided himself into you. You heard an unmistakable “Fuck,” against your shoulder, his grip was vice-like as with a great amount of effort you lifted your hips and began to ride him. It was probably naïve of you to assume that Severus would let you set the pace, after a few seconds of a disjointed rhythm, Severus held you in place; his hips pistoning up into your sopping sex like it was the last thing he’d ever do. You held tight to the back of the sofa, the pleasure was immeasurable, though your eyes were closed, a searing white light seemed to envelop you.   “So fucking tight. I knew you would be.”

  You had never been fucked like this before, this sort of desperate rutting was something you assumed only happened in films where the lovers would be separated by war or ruin. Not, as you found out, by the loner potions professor. It was exhilarating, the feeling of his member pounding into you, the way the slight curve of his cock seemed to grace every spot inside you, it didn’t seem possible to reach any deeper within you; but as he pushed you backwards away from his chest, he burrowed himself further in still.   “Oh god, you’re going to make me come.” You managed to say, his thrusts were short and sharp and quite unrelenting. His brow was furrowed and a sheen of sweat glistened on his skin in the candlelight. He snarled at you then and tossed you to the side, your back landing onto the sofa with a thud. Your cry of shock came out strangled as no sooner had he withdrawn from you, he delved right back into your aching cunt.   “If I’m going to make you come,” Severus grunted, his hand around your throat, “Then you’re going to look me in the eye while I do it. I want to see your face as you come all over my cock.” You shivered under the weight of the sheer eroticism of his words. The feeling of his hand on your pressure point was blissful, being so utterly at another’s mercy wasn’t like anything you had experienced before. It was freeing, purifying…you loved it.

   The tight coil in the pit of your stomach began to unfurl, as with raspy moans, you came hard. Your orgasm seemed to last an eternity, your body rocking with the motion of Severus’ thrusting but also with the throbbing and twitching your used cunt. Severus’ hand squeezed tightly around your throat as he came, his movements becoming shallower and slower. He collapsed onto you in a heap, his head on your chest and your arms around him unquestioningly. You stayed like that for a while, your eyes closed as you blissfully travelled from alert to sleep and back, tracing lazy circles on Severus’ back. It was Severus who moved first in the end, he grappled for his jacket and produced his wand, he pointed it at you and muttered a spell you didn’t understand. But the sudden feeling of dryness and warmth that flooded between your thighs, you safely assumed he had cleaned you. You pushed up from your spot warily, sheepishly almost. Severus was across the room from you now, rebuttoning his clothes and smoothing down his hair. You watched him for a while, your head cocked to the side. Severus seemed to move in such a graceful yet detached way, his movements were precise, but it was clear that he was thinking about anything but the action. You wondered what he was thinking about now.   “Can I help clear up?” Severus’ head shot in your direction, he offered you a strained smile as you waited for his reply. He gathered your cloak and held it out for you to slip on. Did that mean he wanted you to go? After everything that just happened? Wordlessly, you slid your arms into the waiting holes and stood. For what exactly, you couldn’t be sure.

   “I have a prior engagement,” he said flatly, you tried not to look shocked, but you suspected you failed. “I’m sorry, are you well?”   “Quite. Thank you, Severus.” Was all that you said, as with cheeks flaming with embarrassment you willed your legs to push onwards toward the door. If he called after you, you didn’t notice as with laborious steps you made your way back to your chamber. The castle was deathly quiet now, even the ghosts had disappeared to their various dark corners for the night. This was why, when you rounded the corridor to your rooms, the lone figure waiting outside gave you a fright. Your face was still hot from the exertion of the sex and the embarrassment as Severus all but threw you out on your ear. Hot tears threatened to brim over, Merlin, why had this affected you so?

  “Remus?” You whispered into the darkness; the figure moved toward the sound of your voice. One step, and then another into the candlelight and his face was visible. He looked sallow, much like he had that night in the Great Hall.   “I’ve been knocking for ages. I was worried about you during dinner. You were acting really weird.” It was then that Remus noticed your dishevelled appearance, the marks on your neck but not least, the look of pain on your face. “Are you alright?” You nodded solemnly and made toward the door to your chamber, the guilt that had dissipated whilst you were in Severus’ presence now resurfaced as you regarded Remus’ concerned face. With your hand on the doorknob, you turned to him, all green eyed and sandy-haired Remus and smiled sadly.   “Do you want a cup of tea? I need to tell you something.”

[revengeoftheantichrist]

What Kind of Man

Warnings: Possessive behaviour, forced feeding 

AO3  <<<Previous

Chapter 11: Performance 

You avoided dinner that night, choosing instead to go straight to bed. Your sickness and the letters giving you a headache. Before you slept, you placed some of the flowers in a vase on your nightstand, hoping to ward off whatever was in this house.

As you began to drift off, the covers were yanked off you, exposing you to the cool air.

“You are in no state to be refusing dinner!” scolded Michael. He stood in his robe, Mrs Mead behind him with a tray of food.

“I’m not hungry,” you said, attempting to reach for the covers. He turned to Mrs Mead, who handed him the tray and left you both alone. The smell of the food made your stomach grumble, but you still turned away when Michael brought the spoon to your mouth.

“Turn around and don’t be petulant.”

You rolled your eyes and refused to turn to him. You heard him huff before he forcefully turned your face to him. You refused to open your mouth, glaring at him. He had enough, pinching your nose so you’d be forced open your mouth to breath. Tears began to fall as you had to open your mouth. Michael shoved the hot spoon in your mouth, not letting the soup cool and burning your tongue.

“Now swallow like a good girl,” he ordered.

You closed your eyes and swallowed the burning liquid. Wincing as it reached your stomach.

“Now Y/N, you better have finished this bowl before I get back from my study, or else ill pour it down your throat. Do you understand?” he threatened.

You nodded and that was enough for him. He left you alone with the meal. You reluctantly began to eat, fearing what more could happen.

You pulled the covers over you after finishing your meal, not wanting to talk to Michael at all. He returned a few moments later, passing off the tray to Mrs Mead. You turned away from him as he crawled in beside you. He sighed and pulled you back against his chest, trapping you in his tight hold. Nothing was said as you drifted off.

////

You were sat at breakfast, picking at your food.

“I have some news,” Michael interrupted your train of thought. You looked up at him inquisitively.

“we will be going to see a play tomorrow evening,” he stated.

“Why?”

“Xavier Plympton’s play is having its final performance in the city nearby he is a good friend of mine. Your brother knows him. Some of the girls you met at Robichaux are part of the cast. There will be an afterparty here at the castle”

“Will Mallory be there?”

Michael looked at you like you were stupid, “Of course she will, she’s my primary beneficiary and their best performer.”

You just smiled and nodded.

////

The library must have held more answers. You had a few hours to look for more clues. At first you went to check the cavity you found last night, to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. It was still there along with the letters. The library must have been built with more. Instinct told you to go to the opposite end; hopefully someone appreciated symmetry when building it.

You were right, a little bit of pushing and the second alcove gave way. A similar box inside.

The handwriting was different on these envelopes. The wax seal had no crest. They were addressed to the USA.

You took a deep breath and unsealed the letter.

‘Dear Father,

It worries me that you haven’t replied to my letters. Is mother okay? Trevor? Our trip around Europe is coming to a close, yet Duncan seems more distant with me that ever before. I thought we’d become closer but there stills seems to be a gap. I always thought that it was rumour that the Shepherd dynasty was unwelcoming to their brides, but I know it’s true now. He’d rather spend the night in the streets than with me. I hope this doesn’t continue after the wedding. Our final destination is a ball some Count is holding. Apparently, his new wife is being introduced to society. I wonder if he loves her. Duncan speaks highly of his friend.

I hope this letter arrives and that you send me an answer for once

Love, Coco’

Why were Coco’s letters in your home? Why had they been left unsent? The was a simple folded piece of paper in the box, the same address as the letters before on one of the sides. You unfolded it to read its contents.

‘Please send a priest. Send some help. I have been trapped here. These men are beasts. They just sat and watched as the other’ The ink was smudged.

‘I have sent this with that sweet maid, reward her well. Please save me.’’

You reread the paper twice, before folding it and putting it back in the box. Coco never reached the States. You know that she didn’t get on that ferry back. The scream you heard that night must have been hers.

Whatever had happened to Madison, had happened to Coco. And it would happen to you too. The fact that the letter was given to a maid, but was in this box, meant that none of the staff could be trusted, not even the twins.

You put the box away and clicked the façade shut. Thinking about a way to get out of this castle before it became your coffin.

Your head began to spin as you left the library. You moved towards the garden to get some fresh air, but the sunlight made you recoil. Your eyes felt sensitive to the sun, making your head feel worse. You held onto the wall, trying to make your way to your room. Your mouth felt so dry, and your forehead was damp with sweat. You fell to the ground with a loud ‘thud’, the sound of running and a pair of fine leather shoes coming towards you the last thing you saw before your eyes snapped shut.

////

You woke to the sound of muffled voices. Your tried to make out the whispering, but the harder you concentrated, the more your ears rang. You groaned in pain and frustrating, alerting the room that you were awake.

You vision was blurry, but you were surrounded by Michael, Mrs Mead and Dr Montgomery. Michael was speaking to you, but his voice was still muffled, as if you had your head underwater. You tried to speak, but no words came out of your mouth.

Mrs Mead handed Michael a cup. He held you up and put it to your lip, making you drink the warm, sweet liquid down. You greedily drank, feeling better with each gulp, the fuzziness beginning to clear.

“Good evening Lady Langdon how are you feeling now?” asked Dr Montgomery.

You thought about your answer, squinting to focus on him, “a little… hazy still. My head has been hurting a lot recently,” you explained.

“Ah yes, Mrs Mead and the Count also explained your vomiting and fluctuating appetite.”

You nodded in response.

“It’s just a little bug, you must have caught it in Paris and the symptoms are developing now, but they should pass soon.”

He had lied to you again, you knew it.

He moved to check your temperature and the focus of your eyes. Giving you the clear and leaving a prescription with Mrs Mead.

“Make sure you follow the guidelines and keep your eating regular, even if you don’t want to,” with that he and Mrs Mead left, leaving you alone with Michael.

You just wanted to sleep again, resting your head back on the pillow. You heard Michael shuffling around before he got in beside you.

“You always worry me little dove, I thought you might have cracked your skull open with how loudly you fell,” his voice was soft.

“Where are you? You feel so far from me recently. Sometimes I feel like your somewhere else, like you’ve put your walls back up,” he ran his fingers through your hair.

“I’m just sick,” you sleepily murmured, not wanting him to see what you really were thinking.

He pulled your head to his chest with a sigh, “It will pass, I promise you it will pass.”

His actions and the softness of his voice lulled you to sleep.

////

Today was an exciting day for you, you had never seen a play before. Michael had let you see the ballroom get decorated for the party you would be hosting in the evening. You were in awe of the speed at which the staff worked. The hustle and bustle of the day took your mind off the mystery of your Husband. It could wait another day.

The opera house itself was stunning, having been partially funded by the Langdon family when it was first built. It seemed like Michael’s ancestors knew nothing other than living in excess. A tradition your husband seemed to have continued religiously.

The performance itself had you mesmerised. The dancers were oh so elegant. You saw now why Mallory earned her title. The writing of the play was phenomenal, making it clear that Mr Plympton was a Hawthorne alumnus; it had you sucked in from the first note. Michael however, had spent the evening staring at you and at Mallory, you had slapped his hand away from you one too many times.

You were allowed backstage at the end of the performance, presenting flowers to Mallory and Xavier long with drinks for the rest of the cast.

“So, this is the Countess? You are far too beautiful to be on the arm of my friend over here. I’m Xavier my Lady, it is an absolute pleasure to meet you,” Xavier said, kissing your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too Mr Plympton, my husband has sung many praises about your work, now I can see why.”

“Oh, I sang many praises for him back in the day too, don’t you worry,” Xavier winked at Michael, the innuendo flying over your head.

Michael cleared his throat to interrupt the conversation, “I do believe we have a party to host tonight and we mustn’t be late.”

Everyone nodded and smiled in agreement, making their way to the waiting transport.

////

The party itself seemed wilder than the ball you held a month ago. That was high society. This was libertines and bohemians. Although an entertaining crowd to watch, not one you wanted to participate in. You had decided not to drink that night, not wanting to bring on another headache. You might have enjoyed yourself more if you had you thought.

“No wine tonight Lady Langdon?” asked Mallory.

You laughed and shook your head. You were standing on the balcony, overlooking the garden, the party in full swing behind you.

“I think I drank to much at the dinner hosted by Robichaux,” you replied.

It was her turn to giggle, “Oh yes I remember, I think you had a full bottle by the end of the night. I saw you roll your eyes and lose interest in that conversation. It was quite funny actually.”

You both looked at each other and laughed, thinking back to that night.

“Yes well, sometimes the count begins to speak, and I don’t really care for it, so I just stop listening.”

“I don’t think he’d be happy about that,” Mallory pointed out, taking a swig and finishing her glass.

“mmm happy about what,” Xavier slurred out, he wrapped his arms around Mallory’s waist and rested his chin on her head, his face was flush with a stupid grin plastered across it.

The sight of the pair drunkenly swaying brought a smile to your face. How nice its must have been, to not be subject to the rigid structures of the society you lived in. To be able to do whatever you wanted, without a care in the world. You wondered what type of woman you’d be if your upbringing wasn’t so strict or sheltered. Would you have confronted Michael? Would you have married him in the first place? You thought about it now. You never had the chance to say ‘no’. your father and brother had made all your life decisions up to this point. And now it seemed that Michael was doing the same. You wondered what freedom tasted like. Was it sweet? Did it have an aftertaste?

Your thoughts were interupped by Michael’s hands on your hips.

“What ahs you so deep in thought my love?”

You looked up to the stars, taking in the vastness of the night sky.

“Nothing really, maybe about our place in the universe. All the events that have led us to where we our now. Maybe fate or higher power,” you rambled.

“I think you might have enjoyed the philosophy lessons we had back at Hawthorne.”

“I care not for man of ages past, only the here and now,” you sighed again, leaning back onto Michael’s shoulder. “It’ll be a shame when winter comes. Such a beautiful garden will be barren for months. Almost as if it will never live again. But then, the spring comes, and it is reborn.”

“Life is a strange thing, there’s some things that are almost immortal, but we do not remember them. Then humans, mortal beings that leave their mark. Fascinating isn’t it? Michael mused.

You were interrupted by Xavier.

“We must get going. Mallory and the girls leave for Paris in the morning, so they must get to their lodgings and rest.”

You nodded and Michael and Xavier walked ahead, yourself and Mallory walking behind them, engaged in small talk.

You said your goodbyes and stayed behind to watch them leave and wave them off. The night had taken a toll on you, so you left for your room and retired for the night. You assumed Michael would spend the evening reminiscing with old friends and colleagues. So, you were surprised to see him already in bed.

You moved to go the dressing room to change, but you were stopped by Michael.

“You can undress here, in front of me.”

You looked at him as if he had grown two heads.

He just rolled his eyes, “I have seen it all before, don’t be shy now my love.”

Your cheeks heated up and you avoided eye contact with him as you shed your layers, finally leaving you in your under garments.

He curled his finger ins a ‘come hither’ motion, you slowly followed his command. He reached towards you and removed the final barriers, the chill causing goose bumps and your nipples to harden.

“Don’t just stand there, come on now,” he patted his lap. You climbed onto the bed, then onto his lap, where he wanted you.

You moaned lightly as you felt his stiff cock underneath you. His hand travelled up your sides, ticking the flesh. They finally reached you breasts, and you cried out at he began to tease your nipples. They had been sore and sensitive recently. He took a nipple into his mouth, noisily sucking on it. You threw your head back at the sensation. What a sight you were to him, moaning and mewling at the smallest of his touches. He gave the other nipple the same attention, before moving back with a wet ‘pop’.

“You’re so beautiful from up there.”

His hands moved to your hips again, lifting you and then slowly impaling you onto his cock, he couldn’t wait any longer.

You held onto his shoulders, your hips meeting every thrust. He pulled you into a searing kiss, capturing each other moans. You both came quickly. No matter what you thought about this man, or what he had done, you lust for him seemed to be paramount. His voice and his hands could make empires crumble, just like they did to you.

You collapsed onto his chest, exhausted from everything. No words were spoken as you drifted off.

////

Five days later, late in the afternoon, you had a visitor.

Madame Cordelia had come to visit.

Mallory had never made it home.

Next>>>

[therealcalicali]

White Lies II

Matters of the Heart: After taking your little sister for a second wife, Ivar believes he has solved his problems. But when King Alfred arrives in Kattegat, the Gods decide to stir the waters.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Betrayal

Part I here

Part III here

Part IV here

Part V here

Part VI here

Finale here

Deleted Scene here

White Lies AU - Bitter Fruits  here

The next few days were difficult at best. 

As Eiriana was being settled into the estate, you were being neglected. Ivar gave his Coin Master instruction to let her spend to her hearts content. Naturally, this meant a steady stream of servants and merchants moving about the place.

Still, despite your sister being busy with her shopping, your so-called husband hardly found time to be around you. And you knew it was intentional. He knew very well that you had a great deal to say about his actions and even more questions.

However, when you ran across each other other, he always waved you off. 

Stating that he had much to work on his hands.

This was an amusing lie. Because when he did manage to free himself from his Kingly duties, he always sent for Eiriana, not you. Even at evening meals; with each of you seated beside him; he hardly gazed in your direction. Sure he would fill you in on the happenings of Kattegat, but he never said anything of substance.

Ivar may have told you that you were still his first wife, despite taking a new bride. But it was clear for all to see that the writing was on the wall. 

Eiriana was the apple of his eye and there was no point in denying it.

“Ivar.” You said, tempering your words since there were guests at the table. As you pushed rice about on your plate, you paused before looking at him. “If, it’s possible, may I please speak with you about something?”

“What?” He replied flatly, his eyes never leaving his food. 

As he chewed, Eiriana glanced at him and then you. However, she said nothing. Perhaps picking up on Ivar’s body language and changed expression.

“I would like to ask it in private. The table is no place for us to talk, is it?”

Glaring at you, he popped a piece of roasted goat into his mouth. 

In spite of his attempts to not look at you directly, you could see it. The guilt and the anger in his eyes. 

Which emotion was stronger, was unclear.

However, you knew that you also had many emotions bottled up . Emotions that would require you to get away from the estate sooner than later. It was difficult being restricted to a home you now felt was not your own.

Sure, it was a massive estate, yet you now felt like a visitor. 

The Thralls and other servants were constantly fawning over Eiriana. Treating her like a fragile egg despite all her tantrums and demands to be left alone.

As for you, it had become necessary to remind Thralls to even draw your bath. It was as if you had suddenly become invisible.

“Whatever it is you wish to say to me, Y/N, just say it.” Ivar insisted, his tense expression catching the attention of King Harald. Your husband’s dear friend continued eating as he watched the two of you. “I grow tired of your constant pestering. If you truly want to talk, make it now or keep it to yourself.”

You stared blankly at him a moment before shifting in your seat. Thankfully his tone hadn’t raised enough to draw anyone’s attention.

“I wish to spend time volunteering at the orphanages.” You began. “Perhaps I can even help collect herbs for the Seer, if he is need of such help.”

Ivar scoffed, before taking a sip of mead. Then finally looking in your direction, he raised a brow. 

“For what?” He asked as if you had asked for the silliest thing in the world. “Do you see any other Queens scrounging about like commoners?”

“It’s not really as bad as you make it sound. I would be helping the less fortunate. Something Queens and Princesses are expected to do.”

“Oh? And what would you know of royal expectations? You were a farm-girl!”

“Don’t yell at my sister.” 

You were stunned. 

Eiriana had leaned over after hearing some of your conversation. Though his eyes cut to her, Ivar didn’t reprimand your sister. Instead, he simply looked back at you and said he would not allow such foolishness.

“If I may add my portion...” King Harald interrupted. He was seated quite close to your side so he had overheard all. Being a diplomatic man, he had chosen to intervene. “I think it’s honorable for Queen Y/N to serve the people. Think of how it will make you look in the eyes of the common man.”

Ivar mulled over his friends words - not really wanting to allow you any free reign. That wasn’t his only reason for the hesitation. He didn’t want people to think he no longer cared for you just because he had taken a second wife.

“Tell me, would you allow Astrid to do such things?”

“She does it already.” Harald replied with a hearty laugh. “She is esteemed as the Guardian Mother of the poor, widowed and orphaned. The people of our Kingdom adore her.”

In spite of his apprehensions, Ivar respected the his friend’s advise very much. 

So with a nod, he gave his permission for you to do your work about Kattegat. Asking only that you stay away from tending to the sick for at least a year.

“I do not wish for any illness to enter this home and befall my son.” Ivar added. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, my King.”

With that finally out the way, you felt somewhat better. It was almost as if you could breathe again.

After mealtime, Ivar exited the Great Hall with you sister at his side. As you held your skirts to cross the courtyard, he eyed you before calling your name.

“Yes, my King?” You managed to say despite your heart breaking at the sight of them.

“I will come to your chamber tomorrow night.” He said in a strange manner, almost as if he was asking.

After that, there was an awkward silence between you. 

Wanting to get some rest, you eventually cleared you throat and stated you would see him then. But just as you were about to take your leave, King Harald approached. 

“Y/N, my dear, off to bed already?” He asked after noticing Ivar holding your sister’s hand. “The night is still young and I’m full of tales.”

“I know. But I haven’t been feeling myself lately. Perhaps I can be of better company tomorrow.”

“Wonderful.” Harald replied. “It should be quite the day. Especially since we are also welcoming King Alfred’s ships.”

You were surprised. 

Typically you knew of the impending visits from important guests. But not this time.

“I forgot to tell you of the letter that arrived some time back.” Ivar interjected. “He is coming as part of our newfound treaty. We shall also visit Wessex in return, as a show of friendship.”

“Oh, that’s exciting.” Eiriana said with a gleeful smile. “I cannot wait to meet him and his wife.”

With a chuckle, Harald informed her that the young King was quite unmarried. Adding that he was also known to be very religious and immune to sins of the flesh.

“Oh, how strange.” She exclaimed. “Now, I really can’t wait to meet him.”

Ivar smiled at her before bidding you and King Harald a good evening. Unexpectedly, Eiriana embraced you the best she could with her large belly being in the way. 

As they departed, you watched as she began talking Ivar’s head off about something or another. Whatever it was, he seemed entertained, giving her his undivided attention. 

Turning to look at you, King Harald suddenly asked how you were faring.

“I.........I am well, thank you.”

“I do not mean, in health.” He said, correcting your assumption. “How are you coping with this situation?”

Your heart fluttered and you felt the sting of tears that now threatened to fall.

Fortunately, you managed to keep a brave face. Though you admitted being stunned at the revelation, you added that you were content knowing that Ivar would finally have what he wanted.

“It is good to have children, if one is so inclined.” Harald said with a twinkle in his eye. “But it is the Gods who choose the time. You are a good woman, Y/N/, that I know more than anything. Take heart, the they may still bless you yet.”

You nearly burst into tears. 

His words were exactly what you needed to hear in that moment. Someone, saying something of comfort when you were at your lowest point emotionally. 

After kissing the back of your hand, King Harald bid you a good evening.

The following day, you still didn’t feel too well. 

Possibly due to all the stress of the week. From being in a new chamber to not eating properly, you were not having a great time. Still, you had to get up and start the day. 

Not only did you have things to attend to for the estate, but royal guests were arriving.

As you waited for your bath to be drawn, you began hearing muffled sounds emanating from your former marital chamber. It wasn’t as if you had to strain to hear anything- after all it was just next door.

Apparently, Ivar had chosen to pass on his morning meetings to engage in activities with your sister. Eiriana moans were not too loud since the walls were quite thick. 

However, it was audible enough for anyone to know they were having sexual relations.

Even the Thralls that were waiting to help you with your bath couldn’t help eyeing each other before staring at the floor. 

It was simply humiliating.

Naturally, you understood the tradition of sister-wives. But it was not done in the manner in which Ivar had gone about it. 

“Come, let us go to the bathing room.” You commanded the Thralls.

Despite the women stating that the water was likely not ready, you informed them that you didn’t care. Truthfully, you preferred to wait there than your bedchamber. 

And it was a good decision too. 

If you had to listen to Ivar making love to Eiriana a moment longer, you would have likely murdered everyone in the estate.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” King Harald exclaimed with a huge smile as he approached. “Someone decided to take my words to heart. Look at how beautiful you looks today. A vision.”

You couldn’t help giving him a shy smile, feeling encouraged by his compliment. 

Though you had been somewhat neglecting your appearance since Ivar’s revelation, you had decided to get back to your old self. He could dote on Eiriana all he wanted, but it didn’t mean you had to walk around looking dejected.

“Do you think I overdid it?” You asked as Harald walked around you, taking in your entire outfit. “To greet the Christian King, I mean?”

“Not all.” He replied as he continued inspecting your deep purple gown and silver jewelry. “Trust me. One thing these foreign royals like is show of wealth and beauty. And you look ever the part, if I may be so bold.”

You let out a giggle, surprising yourself. 

It was a genuine show of your mood getting somewhat better. Thanking King Harald, you took the arm he had extended. To your annoyance, he informed you that Ivar and Eiriana had already departed for the docks. 

However, he would be honored to escort you.

“I am the one who is honored.” You replied. “Shall we?”

At the docks, you fixed your furs while King Harald waited patiently by your side. The covered wagon pulled off to await your return as you finally gazed at the massive crowd.

“It seems as if all the important people in the Kingdom are here.” You commented as you adjusted your skirts.

“That, they are. King Alfred is a very, very important man.” 

With that, the two of you made your way to where your husband was awaiting his guest. 

Once you reached where Ivar was standing with Eiriana, he glanced at you. His gaze faltering somewhat as he took note of how you were dressed. Though he never made mention of it, he too noticed that you had neglected your appearance. However, it seemed that you were now in a better frame of mind.

“You look very beautiful today, Y/N.” Ivar said almost in a whisper.

You gave him nod before looking away - refusing to hear any more of his empty words. 

Despite this reaction, he reached over and pulled you closer to his side.

“Stand here beside me.” He said. “You are my first wife after all.

“Sister.” Eiriana practically sang. “You look very lovely as always. Who braided your hair?”

You wanted to tell her to leave you alone, but instead, you took a deep breath. 

After telling her that a new Thrall named Sophia had done it, your sister asked if she too could use the woman. Shrugging, you stated that it was fine, after all she was Ivar’s wife as well.

His blue eyes instantly went to your face, almost as if you had insulted him. 

Straightening his posture, Ivar instead chose to remain quiet and gaze over the ocean. 

As you looked out as well, you saw that seven ships had already docked. Men busied about the row boats that were being boarded, preparing to bring them ashore.

“What do you think, Queen Y/N?” Harald asked as he stood to your other side. “Give me guesses of how you expect King Alfred to be.”

“Oh, a game?”

“Aye, something to pass the time until he shows.”

You smirked.

If anyone knew how to make you forget your troubles, it was the King Harald and his wife. Oh, how you missed Astrid. Now that Ivar was preoccupied with Eiriana, perhaps he would actually allow you to pay her a visit.

“I think he will be tall.” You began. “Also, he will likely have brown or raven locks since I hear that is common amongst his people.”

“Go on” Harald encouraged, smirking at the guesses you had made thus far.

You pondered, but then suddenly added that King Alfred would likely be pale. 

One thing you knew was that Christians liked keeping their sicklers indoors. Which of course, was odd since fresh air was best for people with weak constitutions. 

But they were a very strange people with even stranger beliefs.

“That I can attest to be true about his complexion.” Harald said with a hearty laugh. “Are you cheating me, Y/N?”

“I cannot lie.” You confessed with a satisfied grin. “I have heard it said that he was a bit............fragile of health.”

“I see. A little bird told you. In that case, no points for that one.”

You rolled your eyes but went back to thinking again. 

As you and Harald busied yourself with your little game, Ivar was trying his best to keep Eiriana happy. Though she had both arms locked around his free one, she didn’t look pleased. 

Your sister looked like an expensively dressed doll - wearing the same colors as Ivar had donned. Dark blue with black and silver embroidery and embellishments. Still, she was moody.

“How much longer must we stand here?” You heard her whine, distracting you from your game momentarily. “My feet are starting to hurt.”

“It won’t be long.” Ivar replied. “The boats are nearly at shore. See?”

“You said that an hour ago.” She replied, barely allowing him to finish his sentence. “Besides, I hate standing in the sun. It’s not good for the baby.”

Ivar’s jaw tensed. 

It was protocol that wives be present to welcome guests. However, Eiriana was very heavy with child. Thus, he couldn’t expect her to stand around like any other woman would.

Motioning to some of his men, Ivar instructed that she be escorted back to the estate for rest. King Harald nearly scoffed aloud, however, he managed to contain himself. 

Instead, he just shot you a look with his expressive eyes.

“That is only the start.” He whispered as the two of you watched your sister leave with an entourage to rival any great King.

You almost wanted to laugh at her expense. It seemed Eiriana now realized that being a royal was more than just pretty dresses and eating sweets in bed.

“Y/N, come closer, he is approaching.” Ivar said, his eyes fixated ahead of him. 

Doing as he asked, you inched to his side. 

However you made certain to clasp your hands before you in order not to touch him. Looking in the same direction as your husband,you finally saw him. A young man with looks that could rival Ivars any day. 

Despite all you had had believed, King Alfred was striking. 

From his long dark locks, to his fine features and full lips, he was a sight to behold. Despite his lean frame, he was actually imposing in the manner in which he carried himself. 

His intense eyes scanned everything as he walked over. 

Suddenly, Alfred’s gaze fell on you. He stared briefly, perhaps due to the rich color of your dress. But oddly enough, he did not smile nor did he make any other expression as finally took his place before your party.

“King Alfred, the sea has been kind and brought you safely.” Ivar said with a loud voice. “Welcome to Kattegat. We are very pleased to welcome you to our lands.”

As the two men shook hands, the applause and cheers rang out, signaling a successful docking of an honored guest. Again, the young King looked at you which inspired Ivar to make the formal introductions. 

“This is my wife, Y/N.” He said as Alfred took your hand in his. “We were wed not long after I saw you at the meetings in Mercia.”

You expected a weak grasp. However, the young King’s appearance was misleading. After kissing you hand, he gave you a reserved smile.

“It is very nice to meet you, your Majesty.” You said, trying to say it just as you had rehearsed. “I hope that your time here will be much to your liking.”

“Indeed.” He replied, finally allowing you to hear his voice. 

Turning to King Harald, Alfred and his advisors continued with the formalities.

In the evening; after everyone had rested properly; the welcome feast began. 

As you were having your hair re-braided into a different style, Ivar burst into the chamber. He entered so abruptly, he nearly scared the Thralls half to death.

“Y/N, you must open the feast with me.” He said, his brow drawn in frustration.

“I’m confused.” You began, looking at him with an unreadable expression. “What of Eiriana? Are you not the one who said you had to walk with her always? Something about her condition requiring your attention.”

His jaw tensed before taking a seat nearby. Looking at you, he shook his head.

“She............refuses to come out of the chamber. Though she is dressed, she keeps saying that her clothes aren’t fitting properly.”

You looked away, not wanting to show your anger. Did he really expect sympathy or something of the sort? 

“Well, that is to be expected of women who are with child. Her body has changed significantly I imagine. You must go and convince her to attend the feast.”

“No!” Ivar replied firmly. “I am a King not an errand boy! If Eiriana wishes to sulk, I shall let her. I will escort you into the Hall as usual.”

“Thank you, my King. I will do my best to please until my sister is ready to retake her position.”

His eyes met yours.

You could tell Ivar wanted to say something vindictive. However, he stopped himself. 

Most likely because King Alfred was under your roof. So instead of being cruel in word, he rose to his feet. Making his way to where you were sat, Ivar drew close until the Thralls stepped aside.

“You are angry, Y/N. That I know.” He said, his rough hand caressing your cheek. “But my love for you has not changed. So please, let us stop this unnecessary war.”

You stood before you even realized it. Staring Ivar down despite being quite shorter, you were practically boiling with rage.

It was too much. 

He had avoided the conversation for nearly two weeks, now had the gall to ask for the entire thing to be swept away. Without you even getting so much as an explanation?

No! You were not going to take it anymore.

“I am your wife!” You said, poking him in his chest. “You have embarrassed me in front of everyone we know. Not that I would ever stop you from taking a second wife.........that was always a thought in the back of my mind. But to entice my own sister?”

“Y/N, this is not the time.”

“No, it is the perfect time, Ivar. Or should I wait until you seed Eiriana again?” You asked as your temper got the best of you. “You hid this from me all while I was going through mourning from losing my third baby. While I was beside myself with grief, she was already with child! My own little sister!”

You tried to slap him, however, his reflexes were keen. Grabbing hold of your wrist, he kept his eyes on yours. 

“Y/N, stop it!” He said almost too calmly. “If you keep exploding with fits of this nature, I will have the Healers provide herbs to sedate you.”

“Have them do whatever you wish! I will not keep silent about what you have done to me! I will say it no matter how you much you hate hearing of your actions. It is your shame Ivar, not mine!”

“My shame?” He scoffed. “Y/N, you cannot hold a child in your womb. Yet, you speak of shame?”

You winced at his insult. 

Trying to wriggle free, you asked that he leave you alone. But Ivar persisted, keeping his grasp firm.

“Tell me? How many children was I supposed to watch the midwives bundles into tiny parcels to be buried? Four, seven...ten.......”

You shouted for him to stop with the counting, but he continued. After getting to two hundred, Ivar looked down at you with disdain.

“It would have been endless.” He said. “That is what the Volva in the woods told me. Yes, I went to seek the truth behind our problem.”

“You went to a witch to speak about me?” You asked, your eyes wide with shock. 

“I did. And you know what she said? Hmmm? She told me that you can never birth anything! Not for me or any other man for that matter. You have been made barren by the Gods.”

Finally managing to wriggle free, your heart raced from his revelation. 

How could Ivar constantly keep things from you? Taking a seat, you looked at the floor, unable to look at the Thralls or him again.

He exhaled loudly, wishing he had not divulged the Volva’s prophecy the way he had. Unfortunately, there was no way to take back words once they were uttered. 

And since the damage was already done, Ivar hardening his heart. 

Though he wanted to apologize, he had other matters to think of. Gazing at you, he asked that you hurry with the hair preparations.

“We must make our entrance before the feast can start.” Ivar added. “I do not wish to keep King Alfred waiting on his first night.”

As you sat beside Ivar in your lavish blue gown and gold jewelry, you kept your eyes on the performers. 

All you wanted was for him to let go of your hand. However, he was likely trying to show everyone in attendance that things were fine between you. Despite all your issues with keeping a child in your womb, most of the people liked you a great deal. 

After all, you were a Queen who rose from amongst their ranks. 

Still, it didn’t mean that their affections wouldn’t soon fall to Eiriana. Peasants were simple minded. As long as the King told them who to love, they would oblige. 

In fact, your sister already had many women in Kattegat treating her like a fertility Oracle.

Whenever they were in town, people would ask Ivar’s permission to rub her belly in hopes of conceiving. Naturally, he refused these requests. But he did permit the ones that came from the wealthiest of Kattegat’s citizens.

“They can build their cozy life, but I refuse to be part of it.” You thought to yourself as you sipped wine.

“Tell me, Queen Y/N..” King Alfred suddenly said as his intense gaze met yours. “Do you also play chess like your husband?”

“Actually, your Majesty, I do. He taught me.”

“That is good to hear. When I am in need of a challenger, I shall ask for you.”

You smiled, liking the gentleness of his demeanor and tone.  

But the one thing you could not shake was his eyes. There was something in them that said there were allot of secrets. Much like Ivar, there were stories buried in Alfred’s blue pools. 

Hopefully, you would hear some of if a friendship every blossomed. 

As you were regaling Alfred and Harald about the things you had heard about North Umbria, the attendees on the floor level of the Great Hall began parting.

As you watched, none other than your sister made her grand entrance. 

She was quite the vision of radiant beauty in her gold gown and adornments. Yet, you could feel Ivar become tense at the sight of her.

“Who is that woman?” King Alfred asked, his attention leaving Eiriana and falling on you. 

“That.....................that is my sister.” You said nearly choking on the words. “And, Ivar’s other wife.”

His eyes nearly doubled in size. 

Alfred looked in her direction again, his jaw open from shock.

“I see.” He managed to say.

Despite his calm response, the thought of such a thing quite foreign to his mind. Before you could change the subject, Eiriana made her way to the head table, forcing an Earl to depart from the seat on Ivar’s other side. 

As she carefully took her seat, he glanced at King Alfred.

“My apologies, but I must make a late introduction. This is Eiriana , my second wife.

“I must apologize for not greeting you at the docks but I wasn’t feeling too well. But rest assured, it is a pleasure to finally meet you.” She said with an eager smile. Though you hated to admit it, your sister had a childlike charm that put everyone at ease. Even when she was being irritating. “So, tell me, King Alfred, how was your journey?”

Ivar actually looked proud as he listened to the conversation. 

He had expected some type of tantrum, but it appeared Eiriana was going to behave for the moment. As she chatted with King Alfred, you sat there looking straight ahead.

Before long, she had engaged nearly half the table in her talk of wanting to see Mercia and North Umbria. She kept making sure to keep King Harald in the mix as well. 

Indeed your sister was being the life of the festivities.

It was clear. She had not only taken over your husband, but now, she meant to converse with anyone who found interest in you.

“Pardon me a moment.” You whispered to Ivar as you hastened to your feet.

Too distracted by his food, he nodded as you left the head table and walked down the small steps. 

Were you ever glad to be a Queen.

Feeling quite lightheaded, you were relieved that everyone cleared a path as you made your way through the Great Hall. And thank the Gods too. You couldn’t have held it in any longer.

As soon as you had exited the double doors and walked a few feet, you began retching behind some bushes. Every last bit of food you had consumed that day vacated your body until nothing but bile remained.

With shaky legs and a convulsing stomach, you made your way to a bench in the courtyard.

“Please......” You prayed. “I cannot go through this and fall sick on top of it all.”

Later that evening; after all the festivities had concluded; Ivar entered your chamber. 

You had not gone back to the Great Hall after vomiting. Instead, you sent word through a Thrall that you were unwell and retired to your bed. Sitting down beside you, he gazed at your sleeping form. Typically, he was so sure of what to say.

But now, he could only debate whether to wake you or not. 

Finally, as he was about to shake you awake, the door to the chamber opened. In sashayed none other than Eiriana.

“Is she feeling better?” She asked, fiddling with her silk nightdress.

“What are you doing in here?” Ivar asked with the meanest tone he had ever used with her. “I told you already. Tonight is Y/N’s night.”

Eiriana looked at the floor, almost as if she was apologetic. However her words were anything but.

“But she is asleep already.” She protested. “Besides, you told me yourself that she is not feeling well. Why can’t you wait until she is better?”

“Because, I have deemed tonight her night!”  He snapped. “Now do as I have asked. Get some rest and I will see you tomorrow.”

Your sister was utterly beside herself.

Never had Ivar refused her anything. From the moment he paid for her rites, he had given in to her every whim. But now, he refused something as simple as to sleep beside her?

“I will go!” She replied with a venomous bite. “And you know what? I don’t care if you ever return to our bed”

Ivar could only watch as she exited the chamber in a huff, practically slamming the door behind her. Sitting for a while in the dimness, he eventually shook you by the hip. 

It took a while, but you stirred and sat up.

As your vision adjusted and you soon realized it was Ivar who had interrupted your slumber.

“What do you want?” 

“Is that how you greet me now?” He asked. “I’m your husband, yet you act as if a prowler has entered your chamber.”

“Do not touch me!” You replied. “If that is why you are shirtless, then I am sorry to inform you I am unwell.”

Ivar’s nostrils flared, however, he didn’t reply with his usual bite. 

Instead, he stated that he was aware of the fact. Adding that he had only come to watch over you.

“You are no Healer!”

“I know that!” He replied before running a hand over his braided hair. “At any rate, you said you had allot to say to me. So in the morning, I will listen.”

“No! I have nothing further to say about this situation. You said enough for both of us.”

After that, you laid down, turning your back to him. 

Ever the stubborn one, Ivar slid into the bed beside you. Scooting so close that you could practically feel him breathing against your neck.

“I will not open my legs for you, Ivar!”

“Have I forced myself on top of you? No, I have not. So please, stop fighting with me.” He seethed, having enough of both you and Eiriana being at odds with him. 

You closed your eyes, grateful that Ivar was not going to push the issue. However you did feel his arm fall over you as he positioned himself comfortably.

The next few days were strange. 

Ivar became preoccupied with plans for an upcoming war against his Uncle Rollo. Since his brothers wanted their share of wealth, many letters kept arriving on a daily basis.

But even worse than war, was Eiriana.

Perhaps it was due to the Healers saying that she was only a month away from giving birth. Which of course was known to be the most uncomfortable of times for women.

Yet, it was something else. She behaved as if you had to coddle her just because Ivar was busy.

“Where are you going?” You heard her ask as you fixed the saddle on your horse. 

Your father had taught all his daughters how to ride well. And since you were headed into town to give coin to the orphanages, you wanted to do it horseback.

“I’m going to visit the poor houses and orphanages.” You said without glancing in her direction. “Should you not be resting?”

Eiriana nodded but added that she was bored being alone in the chamber with no one to talk to. Rushing to your side, she grabbed hold of your arm tightly.

“Let me come along.” She begged, her eyes large in an attempt to garner sympathy. “I promise to help you with whatever your duties are. I can even cook.”

“No. Ivar would lose his temper and I do not wish to be chastised. You and I both know that he expects you to remain on the estate, and that is where you will remain.”

Your sister let go, angered that you would not help her find amusement. 

Bit how did she expect you to take her along anyway? Even if you could do so, she was dressed as if she was attending a grand feast. 

Truly, Eiriana loved fine clothes and jewelry and made sure to dress up every day. Even as Queen, you rarely wore your crown. But here she was with her golden one atop her head.

As she was going to beg you once more, you heard footsteps approach.

“Are you headed into town?” King Alfred asked, noting your steed.

“Why yes, your, Majesty.”

Clearing her throat, your sister eyed the handsome King, forcing him to take notice of her.

“Apologies.....Eiriana...” He said, confused at how to address her.

She may have been a second wife, but even Alfred knew your sister couldn’t share the same royal title. 

After all, there was only one Queen.

“Are you going for a walk or something, King Alfred?” She asked, hoping to find something to do.

“Actually, I’m not.” He replied. “I wanted to take in Kattegat. And who better to show me and my escorts around than the Queen herself.”

Alfred looked at you, his blue eyes smiling but his face remaining stoic. More than delighted at the prospect of getting to know him better, you nodded. 

“It would be my pleasure to give you a tour of my homeland.” You said with a smile.

Realizing that she was not going to be able to join, your sister frowned. She then bid you both a good afternoon before walking off toward the gardens.

“Are you scared, King Alfred?” You asked as the two of you reached the top of a meadow.

“Me?” He asked with an odd smirk. “I may be many things, Queen Y/N. But I most certainly am not afraid of a little challenge.”

“So, does that mean you will race me?”

He tried to hide his emerging smile but failed. Glancing at you, he asked what was on the line. 

Thinking a moment, you remembered that his lands required a delegate from Kattegat. You may have not been the most politically savvy person, however, you knew the fine art of being diplomatic and gaining friends.

“Do you suppose that if I win......” You began as the King eyed you curiously. “it would be possible to request me as an Emissary? I know that it is rare for a woman to do so where you reside. However, it is common in our culture.”

Alfred seemed intrigued as he pondered your request, his eyes fixated over the ocean of flowers before you. 

“I haven’t met many women like you.” He confessed still gazing over the meadow. “You work nearly as much as your servants and are capable of  saddling your own steed. I would truly like to get to know more about you.”

“So, is that a yes?”

His finally gave you his attention, locking his eyes on yours. With a rare smile, he cocked his head slightly, his long hair blowing wildly in the wind

“Don’t you have to beat me first?” Alfred asked.

Without warning, he began riding for the treeline in the distance. He may have gotten a head-start, but as you kicked your steed into action, you knew you could overtake the King.

You spent the entire day with Alfred and his Advisors, tailed by guards from both kingdoms. Still, it was such a wonderful day, you nearly forgot all about your sister and Ivar.

The young King not only came along on your visits to the poor houses and orphanages, but he stood nearby as you read to the children. As you made your way home, he commented that he would start such things in his Wessex.

“There are some services, however, I hardly know how they are even operated.” He confessed as your convoy entered the gates of Ivar’s estate. “I truly couldn’t tell you if they are even of any use.”

“It is important to know such things, is it not?” You asked. “How else would you know how the poorest of your people is faring? Besides, my father always says that a nation is only as strong as it’s weakest members.”

Alfred smiled.

For the first time, he felt like he had met someone who could keep his interest. He knew many wise men but they could be a bore after a while. And most ladies of his court were dull and even dumber than the average peasant. 

But you............you were different.

A Queen who didn’t have any airs and truly cared about her people. He knew he could learn allot from you and vice-versa.

“I cannot wait for you to come to Wessex.” He said as the two of you dismounted with the help of Thralls. “I think there is more to you than meets the eye.”

You couldn’t keep from smiling at his assertion. A foreign King actually found you interesting?

That was something to tell your siblings.

That evening, the Great Hall was not as lively as normal. Ivar had taken King Alfred, King Harald and some other dignitaries to an even at a wealthy Jarl’s estate.

Despite her condition, Eiriana was the one selected to accompany your husband. She had been ignoring Ivar ever since their argument in your chamber and thus, he was attempting to appease her.

As you sat eating with a few of the important guards and some of King Alfred’s clerics, your father entered. His eyes fell on you and instantly, you saw the regret.

“Apologies for coming uninvited, my Queen.” He began, however, you asked him to desist as you rose to your feet.

“Father, there is no need to stand there. Come.” You beckoned. Relief instantly washed over him as he made his way over and embrace you. “It is good to see you. How is mother?”

After stating that she and the rest of the family was fine, he asked to speak with you in private.

“Of course.”

After excusing yourself from you guests, you held your father’s arm as the two of you exited the Great Hall. Once outdoors, you walked to the gardens and sat down.

Almost immediately, his eyes began to water. With a trembling hand, he wiped the tears.

“I am sorry, Y/N.” He said, patting the back of your hand. “I don’t understand Eiriana at times. Perhaps all of this is my own doing. I spoiled her so much, I cannot advise her any longer.”

You sighed, knowing he was apologizing for what had occurred. 

However, you didn’t feel it was his fault. 

Ivar and your sister were adults. If they wanted to keep from hurting you, they very well could have. Resting your head against his shoulder, you took hold of your father's hand, studying the well worn palm.

“Father, it is no one’s doing but their own.” You began with a composed tone. “Ivar knew she was my little sister when he took her for a wife. Eiriana was also aware. I will not put their guilt on others.”

He nodded before asking how you had been faring. 

Though you pretended to have accepted everything, your father knew better. He followed your words by stating that Ivar displeased the Gods.

“I don’t know, father. He tells me that he sought out a Volva that resides in the forest.”

“And?”

“The woman said.............she said that I am of no use to any man.” You swallowed hard before as you repeated the prophecy. “That I can never birth a child for any man, not just Ivar.”

Your father spat on the ground and cursed both Ivar and the Volva. Adding that he didn’t believe a word of it. With his arm around you, he went on to explain that not every prophecy was accurate. 

They were only given to true Seers.

“Not every person that claims to have a gift is a genuine. That you must know.”

You agreed. However, you confessed that it didn’t really matter anymore. Ivar was finally getting his son and you feared things would only get worse.

“ Eiriana has already taking everything just being with child. Once the baby actually arrives, I will cease to exist.”

Your father shushed you. Promising that hope remained, even in the darkest of times. 

“I know that the Gods always listen to my prayers. You will have children, that I believe.”

And it sounded wonderful.........his words.

But you felt the prophecy was true. So in spite of your inability to think beyond the Volva’s revelation, you allowed your father to think he had comforted you.

King Alfred’s three week visit practically flew by. 

Whenever Ivar was busy with his war planning, the two of you spent a great deal of time playing chess and racing steeds. Through these activities, you got to know him rather well. 

And it was a good thing too. 

Despite your initial impression, Alfred was not as uptight or arrogant as you had thought. In fact, he was possessed a sarcastic whit that often left you laughing uncontrollably. 

With his departure only a day off, the young King decided it was time to bring up the subject of Royal Emissaries. As he and Ivar sat in the courtyard after last meal, Alfred rested his elbows on the table.

“I must tell you, I am leaving with fond memories of this place. I may not understand all your ways, however......” He confessed. “You have hosted me well.”

“I’m very glad to hear that. It is a shame that my own visit will be delayed due to the birth of my son.”

Alfred raised a brow but kept listening. 

“You see, Eiriana is due to deliver in a week or so. And as you know, I cannot leave her side so soon. Neither can she travel.” Ivar said as he leaned back in his seat. 

Agreeing that family was of the upmost priority, Alfred stated that it actually made his request that more sensible.

“Regardless of reason, your inability to return the gesture would seem odd to many in my court.” He further explained. “However, what of Queen Y/N?”

Ivar’s gazed at the young King from the corner of his eyes. 

He may have been preoccupied with your sister. However, the mere mention of your name by other men made his blood boil like nothing else.

“What of her?”

“The Emissary position.” Alfred replied, meeting Ivar’s gaze without wavering. “I think she would be a perfect representative. All the Clerics and Advisors I arrived with like her greatly. I am certain the people at court will too.”

As he was about to reply, Eiriana approached. Without even asking, she took a seat upon Ivar’s lap, much like a spoiled child.

“Why are you two drinking out here?” She asked, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Is it not more comfortable indoors?”

“We are enjoying the warm weather.” Ivar replied, somewhat annoyed that she was not resting. As he caressed her rounded belly, he looked back at Alfred. “I don’t think Y/N would adjust well. After all, she has hardly traveled much.”

Alfred shrugged, stating it had no bearing on your ability to do so now. 

“Truthfully, she is quite wise as well as charming.” He continued, matter-of-factly. “She would be of great help with the Kings of Northumbria, Gaul and East Anglia. Of course, the choice is yours.”

“Is there really a rush to decide such a thing?”

“I will only say this. You cannot expect these men to hold up diplomatic exchanges just because......” Alfred trailed off, glancing at your sister before looking back at Ivar.

He made his words clear without even speaking them. 

If your husband thought the whole world was going to stop because of one baby, he was taking a huge gamble. 

And it was the truth. Ivar had failed to designate Hvitserk as he had intended. Now, the flaxen-haired Ragnarsson was off raiding with some other Viking King.

“I’m pressed for time.”

“Ivar, you knew of this a year ago. How will you explain this to our allies?” Alfred said, pushing him to make a firm decision. “I do not see why you cannot allow Queen Y/N to represent your kingdom.”

“Y/N is traveling?” Eiriana asked.

Ivar explained that you were not going anywhere. 

Adding that he and the King were merely discussing prospects to be the Emissary. But to his surprise, your sister insisted that you be selected.

“Why?” Ivar asked in confusion. “Do you not need her around? She can help you and also bond with the baby.”

“Ivar, I have all the help I need. Let Y/N go and see a new country. Besides, it would only depress her to be around when the baby arrives.”

Ivar’s eyes flickered with agreement. 

Eiriana was right. If you were around when the baby was delivered, it could break your spirit. Especially with your history. Smiling at your sister, he gave her a look of approval before turning to Alfred.

“It’s agreed. I will make Y/N my Royal Emissary.” Ivar said with a pleased expression. “And furthermore, you may take her along on your departure.”

Alfred was taken aback. 

He had not expected him to make you travel so soon. However, he graciously accepted the duty of being your escort to his kingdom. 

With a pleased clap of his hands, Ivar looked the happiest man on earth. He would give you the break from Kattegat you desperately desired, all while having his son arrive into a peaceful home. 

The journey aboard the ship was not an easy one. 

You had departed Kattegat four days prior and still had another week and a half to go. But the travel time wouldn’t have been a problem if had not been hit with the worst bouts of seasickness ever. 

You felt guilty for spending most of your time in bed, however, King Alfred was very understanding.

He not only sent his personal Healer to attend to your needs, but he stopped by briefly to tell you of his own issues with seafaring. Alfred assured you that if you traveled more, it would soon be a thing of the past.

Fortunately, the King’s ship was as comfortable as one could get away from land. You had your own private cabin and servants to tend your need. Which was good because that’s where you spent most of your time. 

Sleeping off the seasickness.

Meanwhile back at Kattegat, thoughts of you were far from Ivar’s mind.

As he sat in a chair beside the bed where your sister lay, his heart was in his throat. He could only stare as your mother, three midwives and your eldest sister Kristina entered. 

“Are you sure you wish to stay?” Your mother asked, knowing he already looked far too faint.

“Yes.....I want to be here.”

Sitting up, a sweaty Eiriana demanded more pillows. 

She then glanced around the room, wondering why no one was heading her words. Knowing that women in labor often became delirious from pain, your elder sister demanded that she lay back down.

“You can’t tell me how to feel!” Eiriana countered. “You..........have never had a baby before! My back................and everything else hurts.”

Ivar nervously ran both hands over his head.

After looking at her a moment, his eyes went back at the floor. It was then he suddenly wished he had not allowed you to leave Kattegat. He was never good at personal dilemmas. 

Thankfully, you had always been his emotional support. Always knowing the right things to say when something went wrong. But now, he had to face this alone.

And he was terrified.

Strange for a man who enjoyed bloody battles and never flinched at the thought of people out for his head. Yet, mere family issues could send him off the deep end.

“Ivar.........come and.............” Eiriana demanded between contractions of pain. “sit beside........me.”    

“No! He would only be in the way.” Kristina snapped, tired of her incessant talking. “Now lay down and focus on breathing through the pain.”

Though she laid down, your little sister did so with curses and groans. 

Which naturally made Ivar even more tense. Having felt personally slighted by what had been done to you, Kristina walked to him.

“I hope you can now see that it is not easy.” She said in a gentle but firm manner. “Though the delivery is difficult, just making it through the nine months is much harder. I........I hope this will remain in your thoughts.” 

With that, she walked away to run the clean cloths through hot water. 

Ivar could only look out the window as the noise of the chamber echoed in his ears. You had gone through similar pains three times Each time producing nothing but a blood mess for the midwives to bury.

Could it be that he had been too hasty with the Volva’s prophecy?

No, he thought. The woman spoke truthfully. And your Eiriana’s ability to hold his seed proved that you were indeed the problem.

Looking back at the bed, he could hardly see her any longer. The entire view of the bed was blocked by the women. Ivar could however hear your sister struggling to push.

She sounded quite tired, not her usual bossy tone of voice.

“I cannot!” Eiriana exclaimed.

To which your mother replied that she was nearly done.

“Two more pushes, and he will be out. Just give us two more strong ones.” The elder midwife coaxed.

Ivar shut his eyes tightly, his breathing nearly halted. It seemed like everything went silent.......but then.

It finally came. 

The sound he had been waiting to hear. The strong cry of a newly delivered baby. Within second, the cries were drowned out by the women happily going about.

“What is it?” Ivar asked, his voice almost inaudible. 

“It’s a boy.” Your mother announced with tears in her eyes. “A beautiful little boy with lots of hair.”

“What about his------”

“Perfect. Everything on his little body is as it should be.” She added.

Ivar could hardly make his way to the bed.

It took the assistance of the beefier of the midwives to guide him to Eiriana’s side. Taking a seat, he looked at his son who was laid across her chest.

“I cannot believe it.’ He whispered against your sister’s ear. She likely heard none of what was being said since she was halfway asleep. “You have made me the happiest man in the world.”   

With shaky hands, Ivar gently picked up the newborn, causing him to cry for a moment. As the women looked on, he proceeded with the birth rites.

Unlike everyone else, your sister Kristina felt mixed emotions. 

Though she was happy to have a nephew, she still detested what had been done to you. She blamed not only Ivar, but Eiriana as well. She hoped that wherever you were, the Gods were watching over you. 

This recent development would be too much for anyone to handle. No matter how strong.

As soon as the ship arrived in Wessex, everyone was relieved to see dry land. After settling in the castle, the entire envoy spent almost three days recuperating from the arduous journey. 

However, you were not as fortunate. In fact, you were still bedridden when Alfred called on you on the fourth day.

Entering your chamber, he gazed at you. Though you were freshly bathed and dressed, Alfred could see that you were still far too sick. Which concerned him greatly because you should have shaken the seasickness by now.

“Y/N, how do you fare today?”

You gave him a weak smile, trying your best to seem upbeat. However, you were unable to hide your fear.

Taking a seat in the chair beside the bed, he looked to one of the Handmaidens.

“Fetch, the court Maesters.” Alfred commanded. “Tell them that the visiting Queen is in need of them immediately.”

The woman curtsied and left to do his bidding straightway. Satisfied, he looked at you again.

“I think I may be dying.” You confessed weakly. “I feel so utterly drained.”

Dismissing your words, Alfred insisted you likely had one of the minor illnesses that often plagued large kingdoms. Adding that he himself had been sick numerous times over the years.

“Besides, who would I play chess against if you were to leave me so soon?” 

Realizing what he had said, Alfred quickly corrected, “me” to “us”. His cheeks becoming flushed by the slip-up.

You giggled in your mind, thinking him adorable for his shyness. As you were about to speak, he stated that a letter had arrived from Kattegat.

“You can always read it later.” Alfred suggested as he motioned to one of the servants who had entered with him. 

In your heart, you knew exactly what the letter was about. Still, you took it from the man’s hand.

Alfred watched with concern as you nervously broke the seal. It was from Ivar, that you knew by the crow’s skull. With your hands practically shaking, you began reading. 

And it was even worse than expected. 

As you read the last line, you couldn’t help it. After all you the ill-treatment you had endured, it was the ending of the letter that caused you to burst into tears.

“Forgive me for being an awful guest.” You said, your voice trembling and your hands covering your face. “May I be alone?”

Without thinking, Alfred was instantly beside you. 

When he moved your hands away from your face, you looked down at the blanket. But though you begged him to go and leave you to your tears, he refused. 

Instead, Alfred embraced you, holding you firmly against his chest. He didn’t force you to say a word. After all, it took no mystic powers to know that at least one of the main points had to do with your sister giving birth. 

“He said.............that.....” You could hardly get the words out. “Ivar says there is no need for me to rush home. That is how he ended the letter.”

“If that is how he feels, then I am most fortunate.”

You couldn’t help feeling utterly dejected, despite Alfred’s kind reply.

Ivar had the nerve to not only announce he was the father of a healthy boy. But added some random information about the new longhouse being built. All before ending the entire thing by stating you need not return soon. 

That was cruel, even for Ivar.

As Alfred was still comforting you, the Maesters arrived. The three men glanced at you and whispered amongst each other. After asking all the male servants to exit, they approached the bed.

“See that you take good care of the Queen.” Alfred said as he got to his feet. “If anything happens to her, I shall hold you all responsible.” 

With that, he departed the chamber. 

After you had been thoroughly examined, the Maesters left you resting in your chamber. Of course they gave you something to help with your sleeplessness. 

For that you were grateful. 

You took evening meal in your chamber, kept company by the six Handmaidens the court had assigned you.

Once you were done, you actually felt good enough to have a second bath. You actually used the time to luxuriate more than anything else. After getting dressed, you were about to go for an evening stroll when someone knocked on the chamber door.

Giddy with curiosity, one of the Handmaidens answered. There stood King Alfred, looking quite dashing in his formal clothing.

“Why are you so dressed up?” You asked. “Are all the eligible Princesses at the castle?”

His gaze faltered as he entered, his hands clasped before him. When he did not speak for a long while, you couldn’t take the suspense.

“What is it?”  

“I’m curious.” Alfred replied, looking at you with a peculiar expression. “Do you realize you are standing on your own two feet right now?

You laughed at his jest. 

It was true. Only earlier in the day, you barely had the energy to sit up in bed. Now, you were dressed and ready to take fresh air.

“I nearly forgot myself. Thank you for having those Maesters come to my aid. Whatever they gave me, it truly worked. I feel so much better.”

Alfred smiled, his face so close to yours, your heartbeat went erratic. 

You gazed at his lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss him. The King may have been your friend but you sensed there was a tension between you.

“Come, Y/N.” 

Taking you by the hand, Alfred led you onto the great balcony of your chamber. Now out of earshot of the servants, he looked at you again. 

“Do you know what this is?” He asked before pulling out a parchment from his vesting pocket. 

You looked at it before shrugging and asking if it was a letter. With a nod, Alfred added that he would hand it over if you answered one burning question.

“Alright.” You said. “I’m listening.”

“Why did Ivar take your sister as a wife?”

The question nearly made you lose your smile. However, you knew there was no malice intended. In fact, Alfred had commented many times that he had found the entire situation quite bizarre.

“Well, if I must tell you, I shall start from the beginning.” You replied.

The two of you took a seat on the long bench and you regaled him with the entire tale.

“I was deeply hurt. Actually, I still am.” You confessed as you played with the fabric of your skirts. “It would have been kinder to have divorced me first. But what can I say? The Volva was right about my bareness. The fact that Ivar is now a father through Eiriana is proof of that fact.”

Alfred stared at you for a long while. 

You weren’t sure if it was pity, confusion or shock. But eventually, he handed you the parchment. Oddly enough, as you tried to read it, you couldn’t make any sense of what was written.

“What is this? Another dialect of your people?”

“It’s Latin.” Alfred replied. “The Maesters only do their work in that language.”

Realizing that it had to do with your examination, you asked him what they had concluded. 

“Y/N.......” Alfred said with a shake of the head - his serious expression turning into a smile. “You are utterly wrong! So is Ivar and that so-called Mystic you spoke of.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, however his expression kept you calm.

“The Maesters say you are with child.” He said. “Around three months along. If not a little more.”

You could hardly breathe as you studied Alfred's expression - wondering if there was any jest in him. 

But what were you thinking? He never played with matters. The King only made dry observations about everyday life. With trembling hands, you allowed him to read the Latin aloud, translating each word for you.

You didn’t know whether to be happy or worried. After all, your history was quite dubious.

“Alfred, please do not tell anyone. I beg of you.”

Taking both your hands in his, he reassured you that he would do as you wished.

“I am very afraid.” You confessed. “I do not wish to............”

“Don’t say it.” He said, putting a finger to your lips. “My people believe that negative words can invoke bad spirits. For that reason, let us speak only good things over this unborn child.”

You nodded, but then panic set in again.

“I don’t know if Ivar will send me coin in a timely manner now. He will be preoccupied with.........his family life. And what of------”

“Y/N” Alfred interrupted, cupping your face with both hands. “Who am I?”

“Pardon?”

He couldn’t help smiling, amused by your panicked expression. Answering the question for you himself, Alfred reminded you that he was the second wealthiest leader next to King Charles the Bald of Italy, West Francia and the Carolingian.

“Do you suppose I would let you go without anything?”

“I.......suppose not.” You replied with hesitation. “But I will not take advantage. I will pay back anything spent on my upkeep. In fact, I can even work it off.”

Alfred dropped his head, trying to prevent you from seeing his laughter. 

Annoyed, you moved his long hair out of the way, causing him to laugh even more. You couldn’t believe your eyes. The somber King Alfred, laughing? 

Pretending to be irritated, you left him on the balcony. 

After sitting on the bed, you laid back, gazing the artwork on the ceiling. It didn’t take long for Alfred to join you. Laying on his back as well, he asked if you appreciated the Arts. 

You confessed that didn’t really know what it entailed, however, you liked what you had seen thus far. Some of the servants in the room smirked to themselves. 

Especially the Handmaidens. 

They had never seen their King so relaxed as long as they had known him. As you described and pointed to the mural, Alfred reached out and took you by the hand. 

“You have callouses.” He remarked, caressing your palm gently. 

“My parents are farmers, Alfred. I told you this.”

“Y/N, these are not from the past. These are recent.” He countered. “You will not work again.”

You sat up and stated that you enjoyed working. After telling you to calm yourself, Alfred clarified that he had something in mind that was better than working with your hands. 

Something that would put your great mind to use. 

“It will also give you the ability to do what you seem to enjoy.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“Maester of Charities.” Alfred replied. “I want you to oversee the formation of services for the poor, widowed and orphaned.”

You felt hopeful for the first time in a long while. If Wessex was to be home for the foreseeable future, you would focus on those less fortunate.

That would be your escape from whatever was occurring in Kattegat.

It had been four long months since you had left Kattegat. 

At this point, you had settled into the routine of being the Maester of Charities. At first, the Clerics and Councilmen assigned to your council resisted your authority. However, those who had met you during their stay in Kattegat soon convinced them of your good intentions. 

And despite not hearing from Ivar after a fourth letter, you had great reason to be elated.

You made it to your seventh month!

There was no denying you were very much with child. The Maesters reassured that you were far along enough to cease worrying. And even better, the child was strong and moved around considerably.

In your heart, you felt your good fortune was all thanks to King Alfred. 

Not long after you discovered you were with child, he left Prince Aethelred in charge and took you on a pilgrimage to an ancient church in West Francia. Though the Abbot was made ware of your Heathen heritage, he felt compelled to have his Monks bless you.

After that journey, your mind rested easier. 

In the brightness of the early afternoon sun, you sat underneath a canopy busily practicing Latin. Though it was a difficult language to grasp, Alfred felt it would be of benefit.

“My Queen.” An excited Handmaiden said as she rushed over. The others were already seated nearby, reading and sewing. “King Alfred says there are foreigners here to see you.”

Your eyes left your books and papers. Putting the quill back into the inkwell, you asked if she knew who it was.

“No. However, he said you would be happy to see them.”

As you tried to get to your feet, one of the guards rushed over and helped you.

“Careful there, you Majesty.” He said with a warm smile. “Can’t have the King or Prince Aethelred hearing that you hurt yourself.”

You thanked him, causing him to smile even more. 

Truly, the people of Wessex had come to adore you. Not just because of your work as the Maester of Charities, but because of your actions.

Were they ever shocked to see a Queen, heavily with child toiling dirt by hand. But you had to do it. After all, how else would you teach the farmers the tilling techniques of the Heathen. 

Your lands were far harsher on crops, thus you knew you advice would be very useful.

After that, it didn’t take long for word to travel that the foreign Queen was not only kind, but was not above actual work. This earned you the moniker of ‘The Lady of Hearts.’

“Are you excited, your Majesty?” One of the Handmaidens asked as they followed you into the east wing of the castle.

“I am. But I can’t even begin to guess who could be awaiting me.”

You were led to the Great Hall by a page whilst your Handmaidens followed closely. There by the double doors, you spotted the King’s brother.

“Aetherlred, how are you? When did you return from the Salisbury district?”

After giving you a kiss on the cheek, the Prince informed you that he had returned that morning. After briefly telling you of his stay, he took you by the arm and walked to one of the massive windows.

“I suppose you know there are visitors awaiting you in the Hall.”

You nodded, but confessed that you weren’t told who they were. After admitting that he knew their identities already, Aethelred asked if you wanted him to tell you.

“I would prefer to know before I enter.” You admitted. “I’ve never been fond of surprises.”

“Neither have I.” He said in agreement. “The ships docked here were on their return voyage from Francia. Does that hold any meaning to you?”

You shook your head, still confused as to the identity of the visitors. 

Leaning against a pillar, Aethelred added that the main ships belonged to Ivar, Bjorn and Ubbe.

“Ivar?” You repeated as if the name was foreign to your mind. “Here?”

Aethelred studied your expression before asking if they should be sent away. 

“I can’t do that.” You said.

“Of course you can. As our ward and Maester, you can do as you please. You don’t have to hold audience with anyone that will upset you.”

You thanked him but said you didn’t wish to hide. 

One thing you regretted was your habit of avoiding things that upset you. It was the easy thing to do. However, it never resolved any of the problems.

“I will see my in-laws. After all, they have done nothing to me..”

“And what of your husband?”

You looked at Aethelred with confidence.

“I will see Ivar as well.”

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[kyliehorsegirl]

Bound By the Soul (Michael Langdon x Reader) REQUEST

A/N: This is a long one shot. I hope you enjoy.

Requested By: @michaellangyum “Reader and michael are soulmates and they can feel each others pain.”

Warnings: smut and language

Word Count: 3133

*****************************

Do you ever feel like there is a person out there for you? Neither do I. After having a shitty boyfriend in high school and another shitty boyfriend in college, there’s not the right person for me.

 “There’s other fish in the sea.”

 “There’s more candy in the candy store.” All the stupid little sayings, I would hear them all.

 “You just haven’t found the right guy yet.” That was always a favorite. There are 7 billion people on this planet. How the hell am I supposed to find the person that was meant for me? My family always believed that there was someone out there for me, for everyone.

 Some people would say I wasn’t looking hard enough, why bother looking? I have better things to do than to look for a dependent waste of space.

 They say if you want to get to the top, you have to start at the bottom. That’s how I unfortunately ended up with Coco. Yes, she had Mallory and Gallant but apparently, she needed yet another slave. When I moved to L.A I wanted to be in Social Networking and Business Management. What I got, posting on Coco’s Instagram, because she can’t do it herself. At least I was able to relieve some stress of Mallory. My time working for Coco, I grew close to Mallory. Considering I had no friends when I moved here.

 I was posting a photo of Coco on her “influencer phone”, while she could scroll on her personal phone. Mallory came rushing in with some puke green health smoothie. Encouraging her to drink the super juice, Coco spits in Mallory’s face. Coco is such a bitch. I hand Mallory a towel as she wipes her face.

 All of our phones go off at once. It was a bomb warning.

 “Its fine their fake.” Gallant, Mallory and I all look to each other with concerned looks.

 It wasn’t fake. Now we are all on Coco’s private jet, Mallory sees that we are on auto pilot. It’s fine, everything is fine. We see the mushroom cloud explode through the air.

  That is how we are here. The Outpost. An underground facility, safe and protected from the radiation and monsters. Purples and Greys, we were divided into two categories. Greys were servants and Purples were the elite. Poor Mallory was stuck being a grey. I would’ve wanted to be a grey with her, but here I am, a purple. Life at the Outpost was so damn boring.

 At least as a grey, you cleaned, ‘cooked’ and didn’t have to be involved in boring gossip. Day in and day out. Our days consisted of cube meals, gossip, whining and the same fucking music every single day.

 Stu and Gallant had “radiation” and were taken to get hosed. Stu didn’t make it. That night Venable, the bitchy prude who ran this place, served us ‘stew’ with fresh meat. Andre lost his shit when he found a finger in his stew. Half of us didn’t eat it or stopped eating, a few others ate it in all it’s glory. Like Evie, Gallant’s crazy starlight grandmother.

 We were all in the sitting room, a melancholy sense in the air. Andre was sobbing in the corner with his mom, the rest of us stared aimlessly in the room with hooded eyes.

 “Guys, do you hear that?” Emily stood up with wide eyes, we all look to her like she’s crazy.

 “I don’t hear anything.” I said cocking my head to the side.

 “Exactly! The music stopped.” We all looked around, the room silent. Gallant leaps out of his seat, the record player scratches as “The Morning After” plays. He runs to the record player gesturing to it ecstatically.

 “This is the Cooperative! They are trying to send us a message!” Gallant proceeds to cover, terribly the song as it plays.

 Suicide was a thought as “The morning after” has played for the billionth time in the last 18 months. We were zombies at this point. Ms. Venable announced that today was the last breakfast we would be having in order to sustain our rations. We were all in a uproar before Gallant and Mallory spoke of taking their chances out in the world. Gallant throws his food and plate causing it to shatter everywhere.

 Before discipline could ensue, there was a perimeter breech. Lights flashes and sirens wailed. Ms. Venable’s face paled for a moment as her and Ms. Meade excuse themselves from the table.

“What the fuck is going on?” Andre was pacing all over the sitting room, Emily and Timothy were holding each other’s hands. We’ve been here for almost two years and there has never been a perimeter breech.

 Come dinner time there was another one of Venable’s infamous stews, snake stew. Courtesy of Emily, who found snakes in her bedroom. I would’ve been adventurous if it wasn’t for the snakes coming alive and scaring the shit out of us.

 “Who’s in your office?” Emily said, absent of snake related shell shock. Ms. Venable makes an irritated expression before sighing.

 “I’m afraid that’s none of your business.” She excuses herself from the table. We all look to each other, dumbfounded by all the changes.

 In the sitting room, we all remain silent. An eerie chill creeps up my neck, goosebumps pepper my arms. Odd, I’ve never felt that before. Ms. Venable makes her way out in front of us. The fire rages behind her. She stomps her cane, once, twice. Gathering the attention of us all. Before she could speak, a man walks in. He has no regard for personal space as he is inches from her face, he turns his head as if to say, ‘get the fuck out of my way’.

 I felt a cold chill. I rub my arms subtly, no one else seems uncomfortable, other than the demeaning presence of this man.

 His hair cascades down, illuminated by the light of the fire. He is clad in modern-Victorian wear. Nothing like we have to wear.

 “My name is Langdon, and I represent the cooperative.” His voice floats into my ears like honey. After that, all I hear is ringing, as he speaks I see his mouth move, but I can’t hear what he’s saying.  My mind is fuzzy.

 My mind is clear when I hear Gallant. Volunteering like it’s the Hunger Games.

 “I’ll go first.” Gallant shrugs. Langdon rolls his head, unenthused towards Gallant.

 “And so you shall.” He looks at me for a long time before moving. I felt frozen, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe. I can’t read his expression. He lets out a sigh before making his way back to Venable’s (his) office.

 As if coming out of a trance, I can breathe again.

 “What the hell was that?” Mallory bends down to whisper in my ear.

 “I honestly don’t know.”

 I wait for my interview with a large amount of anxiety. I’m alone in the sitting room as everyone makes their way to their interviews. Once done, most retire to their rooms for the night. I glance up to the staircase seeing Mallory running out of Langdon’s office. I scrunch my brows as she hurries to her room. Following a hunch, I follow her.

 I knock once on her door, no response. I hear her sobbing so I enter without asking. She is curled up in a corner crying.

 “Mallory? Are you ok?” Kneeling down to her, I place a hand on her shoulder. She sniffles before lifting her face, revealing puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks.

 “No, there is something wrong with Langdon. He was pushing me, saying I had darkness inside me. There’s something clawing inside of me, trying to get out.”

 “What do you mean there’s something wrong with him?” I shift myself to sit next to her against the wall.

 “He, he scared me. His face was white, black veins all over. It was terrifying.” My eyes go wide, not questioning her. Mallory has always been level headed. She wouldn’t lie about something like that.

 Some time passes, we are sitting and talking about everything. Since we’ve been here, we haven’t been able to talk like we used to. I sense that its getting late so I stand to retire to my room.

 “I better get going. I wouldn’t want Venable to get mad at us.” We laugh a bit as I walk through her room to the door, when an awful pain stops me in my tracks. I let out a scream holding my arms out. I feel a fiery pain dragging up both of my arms, a sharp sting resonates.

 “Y/n, what’s wrong?” Mallory holds her hands out to me, lost not knowing what to do.

 “I don’t know Mallory, my arms, they hurt! It feels like they’re on fire.” I begin to cry from the pain. Looking at my arms I see no marks or cuts. I don’t know what is causing this pain. I scream as I sink to the ground, collapsing to the ground. I hear Mallory scream my name when everything goes black.

 I wake up in a bed that is not my own. My mind is fuzzy, the sting in my arms long gone. I look around the room. No clue as to where I am. Slowly, I get out of the bed. Making my way to the door I hear someone descending the spiral stair case. Langdon.

 “You’re awake.” I look to him, still as stone as he makes his way to me.

 “What, why am I here? What’s going on?” My voice comes out shaky. He grins at me, standing tall in front of me.

 “Let’s sit, I know you have a lot of questions.” His eyes penetrate deep into my soul. I think back to what Mallory said about him. I shift closer to the door as my hand creeps to the handle. His eyes glance to my hand before looking back up at me.

 “I wouldn’t do that Y/n. Sit.” Langdon turns to some seats by the fireplace. I fight myself on leaving and sitting with him. Curiosity gets the better of me as I follow slowly behind him. He is seated before I am, eyes watching my every move.

 He stares at me for quite some time before saying anything, causing me to squirm under his gaze. His fingers grace his chin in a thinking manor. I take note of the rings on his fingers.

 “You felt pain earlier, didn’t you?” I look to him with wide eyes.

 “Yes, I did.” Speaking softly, I don’t know if he heard me.

 “Where?” Odd. I take a moment, trying to process what is going on.

 “Um, both my inner arms, all the way up.” I rub my arms self-consciously. He hums in response before getting up and going to his desk. I watch his every move. He gets into a drawer, grabbing a knife. I feel a knot in my throat. My heart accelerates.

 “I want you to trust me. Can you do that?” I slowly nod, scared of what is to happen next. Langdon sets the knife in his chair before untying the cravat on his neck.

 “Trust me.” He uses the cravat to blindfold me. My heart thumps so loud I can hear it in my ears. I hear him sit back down into the chair. Some time goes by when I feel a sharp pain in my palm. I let out a yelp, thinking he just cut my hand. That can’t be possible, I don’t feel his hands on me.

 I rip the blindfold off, looking at my hand, nothing. I look at him seeing the knife in one hand and a large gash in the other. I can’t comprehend what is going on. The blood dries as the cut heals.

 “I understand this is very confusing to you, but I had to be sure it really was you.” I look to him with utter confusion.

 “Do you believe in soulmates?” He gets up to kneel in front of me. It makes me question everything.

 “My family does, but I don’t.” I speak, unsure of myself at this point. He takes my hands in his.

 “Are you sure?” I don’t know. “Soulmates can feel the pain of their mate. If you don’t believe me, try it for yourself.” He cleans the blade and hands it to me. I don’t want to cut myself. However, I am curious. I take the blade and he grabs the blindfold, seating himself back in the chair. I try to find a spot that would be unexpected. I gently cut myself under my collarbone. He instantly brings a hand to his collar bone. The blood drips down my breasts and he takes his blindfold off.

 “I knew it. Interesting location by the way.” Langdon makes his way to me, leaning into me. He lowers his head near my breasts, licking the blood from my cleavage and licking my cut. I want to be grossed out, but I’m not. The cut heals and he remains by my face.

 “We are meant for each other. Made for each other. You feel my pain and I feel yours. We can feel each other’s emotions. I know you have felt my emotions. I have felt yours, the sadness and depression from being here. I’m sorry. I should’ve found you sooner and for that I am truly sorry.” He takes my hands and rubs his thumbs over them.

 “I, I don’t know what to make of all this.” I take in a deep breath. He nuzzles his nose into my neck, causing me to close my eyes.

 “I know my dear, it’s a lot to take in. I’m here now and I won’t let you go.” He looks deep into my eyes placing his forehead on mine. There is a sense of comfort. Part of me wants to leave, to run away, but I’ve never felt this calm and content before.

 “I sense your confusion. I know you don’t understand, but tryst me darling.” He brings me down with him on the floor. We sit by the fire, content in each other’s embrace.

 “I never wanted to be with someone. All my life, people have told me that there is someone for each of us. I didn’t want to believe them. I hated the idea, the men that have hurt me? I never wanted to find someone again.” I look down as some tears begin to fall. He holds my face in his hands, wiping my tears with his thumbs.

 “I would kill for you, those men that hurt you? They don’t deserve you. You are a gem. I am here now, that’s all that matters. I will keep the pain away. I don’t want you to hurt anymore.” He brings my head to his chest, holding me tight. I feel like I could be here forever.

 I don’t realize that I had fallen asleep. I awaken after sometime. I look up to Langdon. I lay in his lap.  He looks down to me smiling. His arms wrapped around me.

 “I didn’t want to wake you love.” His tone is so loving, I almost don’t believe it.

 “I’m sorry to have fallen asleep Mr. Langdon.” I try to remove myself from him, but he holds me tighter.

 “Michael, my name is Michael, I would love it if you called me that.” He strokes my hair, I hum in response.

“Michael, Michael Langdon. It’s a beautiful name.”

 We migrate to the bed, he carries me in his arms and gently sets me on his soft duvet. He lays me down, taking a spot next to me. He strokes my arm, then my side. I smile longingly at him.

 “I want to make you feel good Y/n, give you the love and pleasure you deserve.” He lifts my dress up as he runs his fingers up my leg, bringing the skirt with them. “I don’t want to push you, but I want to love you. Will you let me love you, make love to you?” He looks into my eyes, not moving any further.

 “I, I think I would like that.” His pupils are blown as he grips my neck gently in his hands, bringing me closer to him. He kisses me slow. There is want and need in the kiss. I can feel his want, I can feel the adoration he has for me. I kiss back, showing him that I want this too.

 His hands roam my body. Feeling heat everywhere they go. He climbs on top of me grabbing my thigh and lifting it to his hip. He kisses all along my neck leaving marks, he moans as the feeling of bites litter his own neck. I run my hands up to his hair tugging at his locks, I feel the tension on myself as well.

 He slips a hand under my dress pulling my panties down. He slips to fingers into my warm cunt. I gasp, its surreal. Michael pumps his fingers into him, hitting my g-spot with every thrust. He kisses me hard.

 My slick coats his fingers. He brings them to his lips licking them clean. He undoes his pants, springing free his hard cock. He looks to me, holding back the need and desire, I can feel it. I bring my hand to his cheek, he leans into it.

 “Its ok Michael, I want you.” His shoves his lips onto mine in a bruising kiss. He then thrusts into me. A white pleasure. I can’t breathe. No one had made me feel like this before. I bring my hips up to his, in rhythm of his thrusts. I arch my back, throwing my head into the pillow. My hands go to his back, clawing red streaks along his muscles. I feel it too. He thrusts into me, long and hard.

 “I’m close Michael.” I gasp out trying to ground myself by gripping onto him. His cock presses into my womb with every thrust. I feel my release coming. I cums inside me as my orgasm is enhanced. I feel his and he feels mine. Its an amazing amount of pleasure. We both moan loudly. He rests gently on me while still inside. His face in my neck. He takes deep breaths. My hand goes to the back of his neck, stroking his hair.

 He slowly pulls from me, both of us shuttering from the aftershock. He lays down next to me pulling my body to his. Michael wraps his arms around me, locking me in an embrace.

 “I love you Y/n, I won’t let you hurt anymore.” His kisses my hair and holds me tighter.

 “I love you too Michael.” I do believe in soulmates.

****************************

Hope you enjoyed!

Langdon MASTERLIST

Taglist

@delicatefishtreedream @skullchik89 @wth-trippy @teenagevampirebouquet@glamorous-without-the-guilt @first-son-of-finwe @aerite @no-salvation-no-forgiveness @albeeox @shado-cat   @bryandechartisasmolbean @beautifulagatha @majestichoechlin @homeschool-prom-queen @the-captain-kidd @creepy-jazzy @spidey-starky @envyskitty @depressed-comics @bookwormstrawberry @scarletraine @quione3 @artisticlales @superwarsofthrones @hxdesworld @thebatshitcrazyfangirl @sexxxychiq @michael-langdon-is-daddy @justanotherdaydreamersoul @honeybun5801 @lost-in-the-stories @multi-madison  @agb-random @michaellangyum @xscarlett-rosex @m-i-a-m-c-d-e-e @lustlangdon @fuckthatfeeling @frozenhuntress67

[nightvision-of-thesoul]

stolen hearts

this story is a long one, the longest i’ve ever written before, so it’s coming in smaller doses so it’s not overwhelming!! it started for my love and desire to write out the first scene with michael in it at the outpost, and sort of built on it from there. @nihilnovesubsole is my biggest supporter and i would never have started w/o her!!! i hope you all enjoy and want to read more- i wanted to set up the foundation before i moved into the smut but it’s coming >:) lemme know what you think!! (also, though she does take the action of mallory’s character in this part i did not take the reader in that direction after this i just liked that interaction!!)

@ritualmichael

PART 1

things are about to change at the outpost. 

The warm, orange glow of the candles cascaded a false sense of security and sincerity over the extended dining hall, shadows and light playing around the room with one another. The smell of stew wafted through the stiflingly underground air. Though boiled snake would not always be considered an appetizing smell, hot food of any kind or quantity was a blessing compared to the small, flavorless cubes of protein we were normally subjected to. The cart’s handle rumbled underneath my hands as it passed over the tiny imperfections in the stone floor and I brought the meal in for the members of the elite, a group of whom I woefully could not consider myself.

           From the opposite side of the room, I could hear the nasally, high pitched voice of Coco, replying to Ms. Mead about the gourmet luxury of the evening.

           “You know, I have a strict rule about eating things with no legs, or, too many legs for that matter,” she stated in her usual disdainful manner, upturning her lips and trying to get a better look into the massive bowl in the cart that held inch long sections of the snakes that were bobbing up and down eerily in the broth.

           “Eat it or don’t. No one’s gonna force it down ya.” Mead’s eyes were glued in an icy stare to Coco’s face as she answered the complaint, neglecting to hide what everyone else felt but was too tactful to manifest: complete disdain for Ms. Vanderbilt. I wasn’t the biggest fan of her either, but before the nuclear fallout I was her personal assistant. As arbitrary as it seems now, she was one of the nation’s biggest stars, with an ego to match: the apocalypse did little to change that mindset.  

           The other grays and I began ladling the soup into the lavish bowls, and despite the apparent protestations to eating something that slithered as such, the majority of the elites took the meal with gratitude. Coco’s nose was still risen towards the sky as I slid a full bowl in between her place settings, but she cautiously began poking around at smaller sections of the reptile as if to find the most appetizing segment before chowing down. There was little conversation as the servings were handed out, apart from a remark from Evie, who began sharing an anecdote about some kind of decadent snake soup she’d had in some place or another with someone of heightened societal position. Her desire to cling to her status of the past usually made her a point of ridicule, but the tale garnered a few chuckles nonetheless. As Dinah had pointed out, the soup was food, and we are all starving, too hungered to care about making any snide remarks directed at the ancient grandmother of Mr. Gallant.

           My mouth watered as I returned the cart to its initial spot at the head of the table, looking down at what remained in the container and knowing my meal would not begin until hours after the purples had been satiated and moved on to the cocktail lounge to indulge themselves further. While it made sense, the only real reason for me even being granted into the fallout shelter being my affiliation with someone who could pay their way in, it still seemed unfair that I was the only member of our arriving quartet to be granted the short end of the stick, the position of servitude for all rather than just Coco. Instead, I was forced to watch her and everyone else live a lavish lifestyle that left me at the bottom of the food chain, picking up scraps and equating to little more in their eyes than the irradiated vermin that remained outside these walls. Every crack of Venable’s cane that reverberated throughout the Outpost was like a stab in the gut, never ceasing to remind me that every task I attended to slowly and carefully chipped away at my former dignity. My thoughts on classist injustices and the enticing smell of soup were cut short as a seldom heard voice chimed in to the minimal conversation, posing a question everyone seemed to have forgotten to be curious about.

           “So, who’s in your office?” The voice belonged to Emily, one half of the pair of kids my age who had been brought to the shelter due to their “superior genetic makeup.” It was her room in which the multitude of snakes were found for this very meal, writhing around in her closet like they were caught in some kind of grotesque waltz. While no one questioned their presence, it was assumed they came from outside the fortress, though no mutations had been found, nor had there been any radiation detected in them at all. Only hours before, the alarms had been raised, and while Venable and Mead had tended to the security breach, no explanations were made. While it could’ve been snakes, just like the pigeon that set off the alarm earlier in the week, we all knew it wasn’t: the breach had been made by someone, and someone Venable clearly wasn’t ready to reveal.

           “I beg your pardon?” Her deep voice came out strong and unwavering, inviting no real answer to that question, but getting one anyways.

           “The alarms went off before, and someone came inside.” Emily’s voice was more pressing this time, and was followed up by her other half, Timothy.

           “Who else is here?”

           “All your questions will be answered in due course.” Venable’s gaze bored into Timothy and Emily, prompting an unspoken agreement to not urge the conversation along any further. Following the stern and pregnant pause, she finally turned her attention again to the whole of the room and gave a single command: “Eat.”

           With the sound of her cane following the order, the regular chatter began to resume, though wary and calculated looks were now being passed from elite to elite, and with good reason. Who was it that came through those barricaded doors, and why was Venable so unwilling to share? With each new member that had joined us, they had wasted little time introducing the rest of us to the people we would be sharing our limited and claustrophobic space with. Why was this different?

           Still standing in position by the head of the table, I had little time to formulate any more questions for myself as several loud wails suddenly arose from around the room. Several of the elites leapt from their chairs, sending the bowls of soup flying in disarray onto the floor. My first instinct was to feel contempt for their lack of gratitude, until I saw the reason behind their outburst: the snakes were once again whole, alive, and slithering through the broth, the candlelight glinting off their wet scales as they blithely passed through the trampling feet above them.

*****

           “They were chopped up and boiled, how the fuck did they come back to life?” Coco’s voice could be heard again down the long corridor leading to the sitting area, rivaling the loud crackling in the fireplace. The snakes were the rampant subject of the evening still, even though Mead and the Fist had already taken the born-again creatures and disposed of them outside. No one had even approached the fact that the only hot meal in over a year had been a sham, everyone was simply too spooked to care. The circumstances surrounding the mysterious intruder had already heightened the general air of suspense and confusion, and the evening’s phenomenon did little to quell those feelings in everyone; even Venable was on edge.

           “Beats me, I’m still wondering where the hell they came from,” Gallant replied, swirling around his glass of water as though it was a much-desired glass of wine after a long day at work. His eyes were fixed on the fire, his gaze reflecting the concern he felt. Unusual, considering his regular gift for levity in most situations. Typically, by now he’d find a way to make a joke about getting railed by a Hemsworth brother to lighten the mood.

           “Maybe that is where they came from.” The words cut through the heat of the room like an icy blade, sending an inadvertent chill down my spine. They came from a man to my left, where I stood next to the doorway awaiting any requests with the other grays. I could see his silhouette outlined in my peripherals, but felt compelled by something, not to turn my head in the mysterious speaker’s direction.

           The silence following the remark was palpable, broken only by the click of the stranger’s boots as they brought him around the edge of the room. Venable had taken her usual speaking position in front of the fire, standing with an exaggerated air of importance, a tight smile painted onto her face and her dark brown eyes locked onto the man as he approached her. His hair was long, just a touch past his shoulders, and a warm golden color that complemented the light of the embers. There was a slight curl at the ends that swayed back and forth along his back as he sauntered forward, up into place next to Venable, who had begun smiling at him like she was in on a little secret. He lingered for a moment beside her, his profile outlined by the flames behind him. It was some kind of stalemate playing out, his lips turned up in an expectant smile, his eyes slowly and carefully looking our administrator up and down. Slowly, Venable’s smile faded to a look of muted embarrassment and she could no longer meet his gaze. She walked slowly, regaining her poise as she stood next to Ms. Mead, allowing this mysterious gentleman to take her place. He finally oriented himself at the front of the room, allowing us all to see his face fully for the first time.

           His eyes were an icy, cold blue, slightly slanted down at the corners. They framed his face just right, set just slightly above his slender nose. It was hard not to focus on his lips as he began to speak, full as they were, ever curved in that sardonic smirk that made it clear he knew he was in charge, much to Venable’s obvious chagrin.

           “My name is Langdon, and I represent the Cooperative.” The words spilled from his mouth like honey, a bitter honey that coated your ears but sent another chill through your spine, much like the first time he spoke.

           “I won’t sugarcoat the situation. Humanity is on the brink of failure. My arrival here was crucial to the survival of civilized life on Earth. The three other compounds In Syracuse, New York, Beckley, West Virginia, and San Angelo, Texas have been overrun and destroyed. We've had no contact from the six international outposts, but we are assuming that they, too, have been eliminated.” All eyes were glued to his visage, his undeniable air of superiority. Gallant was paying particularly close attention, and I couldn’t blame him. There was something about him that drew you in, and handsome confidence that didn’t allow you to look away.

           “What happened to the people inside?” Andre broke the silence with his question, voicing what no one wanted to acknowledge in light of this new information. With a sharp turn of his head in the young man’s direction, Langdon uttered his sort reply.

           “Massacred.” His voice barely above a whisper, and the slight smile never left his face. “The same fate that will befall almost all of you.” His pause before the word ‘almost’ left a space open for interpretation, one that was not lost on us. Before I even knew what I was saying, I blurted out, “Almost all?” Even from across the room, I could feel his attention shift to me immediately, drilling me with his eyes. I quickly found something interesting to examine on my shoes, hoping for nothing more than to rid myself of the heat of shame that followed that stare. He didn’t answer the question, but seamlessly flowed into the next parts of his speech. Though he was no longer looking, I could still feel the smoldering gaze that felt like it was still burning a hole in me.

           “In the knowledge that this very moment might occur, we built a failsafe: The Sanctuary. The Sanctuary is unique. It has certain security measures that will prevent overrun.”

           The next person to join in the discussion was Ms. Mead, who politely interjected.

           “Excuse me sir, what measures? I mean, why weren’t we given them?” Still with that ceaseless smile, his attention turned to the older woman. Again, his response was curt.

           “That’s classified.” With a pause to ensure no more interruptions, and a slow scan around the room, he began once more. “All that matters is that The Sanctuary will survive, so the people populating it will survive, so humanity will… survive.” His voice melted on the last word, hanging on to it like a vice grip.

           “Who are the people who are populating it?” Kyle inquired from his seat next to Emily. It was clear from the way he clutched her hands that he hoped they might be the lucky pair to hop straight to repopulation. This was not lost on Langdon, though it was clear his patience was thinning.

           “Also classified. However, I have been sent to determine whether any of you are worthy or fit to join us.” With this, the tension that had built throughout his monologue palpably eased. The erect postures around the room and the positions on the edges of seats eased back to recline in the realization that any one of us could possibly escape this cramped hell hole. A ripple of muted conversation passed alone each member, even among the grays.

           “Do you think that includes us?” The one boy next to me asked. I couldn’t come up with an answer, just the wonder in the back of my mind: would it be possible? Were the things Langdon was looking for something that could be found in someone considered lesser than those dressed in purple?

Again, my thoughts were cut short as he began once more. His voice carried loudly enough to silence the sea of murmurs immediately.

           “The Cooperative has developed a particular and rigorous questioning technique we like to call "Cooperating." I will then use the information gained to determine if you belong.” He waved his hands out to each side as though the explanation was obvious. Apparently to a certain few, it still wasn’t.

           “What is this, The Hunger Games? This is bullshit. I paid my way in here, and that is the only cooperating I plan on doing.” The whining coming from Coco struck a particular nerve this time, clearly not just with me. Gallant rolled his eyes and Langdon was again caught short of patience.

           “You don’t have to sit for questioning. You can instead just stay here, and die.” There was no smile this time. Not leaving her any time for embarrassment, Gallant finally spoke up for the first time since his remarks about the snakes.

           “I volunteer to go first.” He looked around the room as if to challenge someone to suggest themselves first, though no one offered.

           With an almost imperceptible sigh, he replied. “And so you shall.” Langdon bowed his head slightly in the bleach blonde’s direction, feigning courtesy. “The process should only take me a couple of days, so you won't be kept in suspense forever. For those of you who don't make the cut, all is not lost. If the worst should happen and feral cannibals come knocking, down one of these.” He extracted a small vial of white pills from the folds of his draped jacket and held them high enough for all to see.

“One minute later, you fall asleep and never wake up.” Silence fell again, and he let us soak in all the options that had just been set before us.

“I look forward to meeting each and every one of you.” With a slight rattle, he thrust the bottle of pills back into his pocket and gave another quick glance around the room. Though it was clear no more protestations would be accepted, he left no time for further discussion anyhow, briskly striding around the opposite side of the room from which he came in towards the exiting corridor. As he passed, I caught his eyes once more. It was reminiscent of the sensation one gets when they find themselves atop a mountain in a lightning storm: the hair on the back of your neck and arms begin to prickle with a life of their own, and it’s as though you can feel the current of the electricity replace some of the blood in your veins. Those cold baby blues sent the shock down my body from head to toe, even in just the space of an instant. The air that rushed past me as he made his way out the door smelled sweet at first, yet quickly left a sour taste in my mouth, much like the aroma of a wilting flower. Such strange sensations to follow an equally strange man, but the combination of them all made my toes curl. Who, or what, was he?

[charbax]

At Least I Got You in My Head (Striktor)

Commission for Queezle! Request was, 'Striktor, sharing a bed, they both pretend this is fine but this is clearly not fine, cue built up mutual crush tension that neither can act on but would really like to rn.' You’re the best enabler a pal could ask for. 

Title was inspired by Hayley Kiyoko’s ‘Sleepover’. Word count clocks at a whopping 3000 wowza.

Also on AO3!

Viktor had hoped they would make it back to HQ before sundown, but judging from the darkening skies, it wasn't meant to be, and he didn't want to risk a trip in the dark for a squad that was barely awake. Luckily, the road they were on was popular with travellers and merchants and all walks in between, and soon enough, an inn loomed into their sights. Relief was palpable as Viktor pushed inside, making a beeline for the innkeeper while his team piled onto one of the free tables.

They also seemed to rearrange themselves in a sliding scale of tiredness by the way they slumped in their seats; Strix was blinking owlishly at the entrance as Vivian fiddled with one of her contraptions, as opposed to Tyra, who had her arms crossed and her eyes closed. Meanwhile, Buck on the very end had his head down on the table and was dead to the chatter in the tavern. With a soft smile still on his face, Viktor turned his attention to the innkeeper. "Got any rooms for the night?" He asked.

"Three. Upfront fee, but it comes with a meal and hot water for baths. You decide who gets what room."

That's fair. He dropped a pouch of gold onto the bar top, which then was swept by the inkeeper's expert hand and counted one by one. After she took out one of them and bit it (ignoring Viktor's eyebrows shooting up his face), she nodded and tucked it into her apron before digging out three keys. "The rooms are at the end of the upstairs corridor, all on the left. Order a meal or hot water here. The barmaid will be around soon."

He thanked her and made his way back to the group. They all straightened up as he collapsed in the remaining chair. "We got three rooms for the night." He began, dropping the keys onto the table.

Without hesitation, Vivian snatched up one of them. "I need peace and quiet after a day you lot."

Viktor frowned at her, even if he did privately admit that Buck, and Tyra can be a bit...much, while on the field. Hell, even he was a bit much on the field, so he really can't say anything. "Give it back Vivian. You didn't even try talking to the rest of the team about it."

Buck chose that moment to snort himself awake. "I don't mind sharing a room with Tyra." He said, then dropped his head back onto the table.

Slight panic raced through Viktor's veins. "What about you Tyra?"

"Buck's not the worst person to room with." She shrugged.

"How about me or Strix?"

"Are you kidding me? You snore loud enough to wake the dead, and I don't think I've ever seen Strix sleep."

"Guess that makes me a night owl." Strix interrupted with a straight face. That got a bark of laughter from Viktor and a groan from everyone else.

The barmaid chose that moment to appear with a smile. Viktor was glad for the distraction, for it gave him some time to compose himself. Him? And Strix? Sharing a room? While it wouldn't be the first time they've shared sleeping arrangements, it was usually with one or two other teammates, and in desperate circumstances, such as shifts through the night on enemy territory, where rest was a precious commodity not to be wasted complaining about personal space. So same principle, right?

He risked another glance at Strix. The residential sniper didn't seem to be perturbed by the news, just...eager at the thought of sleeping in a bed that wasn't on the ground. Well, if Strix didn't have a problem with it, then Vitkor was going to take a page out of his book and be the same.

"Then me and Strix will get the last room ." Viktor said with a note of finality. "It's fine."

It was not fine.

Oh sure, it seemed fine during dinner, when the food warmed their bellies and their spirits, and he didn't have to dwell on it, not while being surrounded by Tyra's laughter and seeing Buck's smile. Then Vivian had waved the barmaid down to bring hot water for her bath, then the rest of the team took it as an opportunity to split off – Tyra wanted to enjoy a few more mugs of ale and Buck wanted to enjoy the comadrie, while Strix murmured about needing to maintain his rifle and stood up.

That left Viktor contemplating what to do next. He could always stay and drink mead with Tyra and Buck (even if Buck wasn't an ale person in the first place), but knowing him, he would only be a few drinks away from doing something rash - or as he affectionately called it to the contrast of everyone else, 'wildcarding' - and would most likely end up doing something that would get them all kicked out of the bar, or even worse, embarrassing himself in front of Strix when he eventually stumbled into their shared room.

So he refused Tyra's offer, saying something about wanting to check out the new room with Strix (studiously ignoring her raised eyebrow in response), and headed upstairs just behind Strix. The walk itself wasn't awkward, if a bit nerve-wracking, it was only when they opened the door then the awkwardness made itself well and truly apparent in the form of a singular bed. It looked inviting and spacious, piled with furs and blankets, but no amount of decoration would cover the fact that apart from the furniture consisting of a desk, a few chairs, and the unlit fireplace, it was the only bed in the room.

Viktor scratched the back of his head. "Uh, you can take the bed." Viktor started, taking one for the team. "I can just use my bedroll on the floor-"

"When was the last time you slept in a bed?" Strix interrupted, even though they both knew the answer. "You take the bed and I'll take the bedroll-"

"Well, as your commander-"

"And as your reconnaissance, I can tell the last few days have been hell." Strix said bluntly while looking at Viktor in the eye. Viktor could count the times he had done that on one hand. "You've been wearing yourself thin."

Viktor had to bite back a childish 'You too!', and threw his hands up instead. "Fine. Let's both sleep on the floor and ignore the perfectly good bed instead."

And Strix actually shrugged and started unpacking his bedroll without another word. Viktor quickly backtracked. "Wait, I wasn't being serious."

"It's a simple solution." Strix said, shaking out the blanket from his pack. "Neither of us want to sleep on the bed, so we'll sleep on the floor. We both win."

'More like we both lose...' Viktor thought forlornly, but wisely kept it to himself.

A few minutes later, he had taken off his boots and climbed into the bedroll he had unfurled on the cold, wooden floor. Strix had wiped off his facial markings and hung up his cloak of feathers, treating Viktor with the rare sight of a slightly stripped down Strix pulling out his leather hair tie and unbraiding his hair, giving his head a little shake to let it free in all its glory. Viktor turned away quickly and pulled his blanket under his chin. When he heard the rustling of Strix doing the same, he reached up to blow out the candle, which Viktor's back chose that moment to twinge painfully. He winced. Of all nights to act up, it had to be now? It was still aching slightly when he laid down again.

He tossed one way. He turned another way. Finally, he sighed.

"Hey, wanna share-"

"We should just share-"

They both stopped and glanced at each other. Viktor spoke first. "You go."

"Bed's big enough for both of us." Strix continued. "If you're ok with it, that is."

That was the thing – was Viktor ok with it? As he reasoned before, it shouldn't be any different from the times when they slept in the vicinity, guarding each other's backs. But that was out of necessity, not...whatever this was. But he and Strix also proved to be too stubborn to take the bed for themselves. If this was the only way to convince Strix to have a good night's sleep, then, well.

"Yeah. Ok." Viktor said.

There was rustling as they moved to the obviously superior bedding. There wasn't need to light up another candle, since the moonlight streaming through the window was light enough. Seeing the many furs and blankets lining the bed (because they were both also smart enough to try sleeping on the floor without the helping of said furs and blankets), Viktor decided that his topmost jacket would be too much, so he shrugged it off and hung it over one of the chairs. When he looked back at the bed, Strix was staring at him. Viktor raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

Strix startled slightly, then pulled the blankets up more securely. "Nothing." He said, slightly muffled.

Viktor glanced down at his unassuming grey tank top, back to where Strix was burrowed, and shrugged before climbing into bed himself. This was leagues better than sleeping on the hard floor, and if he ignored the rustling next to him, he could pretend that this was a singular bed. For a company of one. And that he was by himself and had nothing to be worried about.

His ears still picked up at Strix's breathing just beside him, steady, but not deep enough for sleeping. Most likely still awake, like Viktor himself. That didn't really fill him with a lot of confidence. Viktor took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. It usually wasn't this hard when they've rested close by before – there was talking, sometimes, a joke or two to lighten the mood, then a quiet goodnight. Yeah. Maybe he just needed to do that to make this not as awkward.

"So, uh," Viktor said out loud. "Nice bed huh?"

Immediately he was tempted to end that disastrous starter with 'OK GOODNIGHT' and pretend to sleep until Strix did. Instead, he held his breath. After a moment, Strix replied, "Yes. Better than the floor."

"Hey!" Viktor reached over to playfully punch Strix on the shoulder. "We both rolled out our sleeping bags."

"Which makes us both fools."

"...that's fair enough."

Viktor heard a chuckle in the dark, low and husky, and he relished how it sent a curl of warmth shooting through his chest. Strix was quiet again, but Viktor recognised it as the 'enjoying the moment quiet', not the awkward lull in conversation. One of the Strix's favourite quiets. And one of Viktor's too.

They stayed like that, enjoying the moment, then there was a quiet, "Goodnight Viktor." Strix pulling the blankets more securely around him and didn't move.

"Goodnight." Viktor murmured back. Now there was nothing but gentle breathing between the both of them. Despite the effort at the relaxed atmosphere however, restlessness prickled along Viktor's fingers and arms again, even worse this time round because he had to struggle not to move too much while Strix was going to sleep. Maybe if he closed his eyes, the feeling would go away. Hopefully.

Unfortunately, all it did was amplify his other senses; he could hear the ebb and flow of Strix's breathing, the slight rustling of his own fidgeting, and if he strained his ears, the muted laughter from the tavern below, still going strong despite the late hour. He became hyper aware of the closeness between him and Strix. It would only take an errant throw of his arm for it to be lying across Strix's chest, and another unconscious pull to get closer-

And Viktor immediately put a pin on that thought. He really shouldn't be indulging in those kind of daydreams since he was Strix's goddamn commanding officer. It would be unprofessional, not to mention unfair on Strix considering the imbalance of power.

(he ignored the little voice at the back of his head that whispered that this situation was unconventional already. He told it to shove its opinions where the sun didn't shine)

He rolled over to find a more comfortable spot, which had unfortunate consequence of causing him to face Strix. His face was serene, not the usual pokerface he had during work. He also had his eyes closed, leaving Viktor free to stare at him without the fear of Strix thinking he was a little weird for doing so. It was a little strange to see Strix's face bare, but now that there were no markings, Viktor could see dark circles underneath his eyes. Another triumphant reason to let Strix have the bed if he did say so himself. He moved to Strix's jaw, saw the beginnings of stubble. It looked course. Viktor idly wondered how it would feel like against the palm of his hand-

Stupid thoughts! Stop that! His hand was already halfway there, hovering the space between them. He let it fall with a gentle thump and turned away, his back to Strix. Too late. Even when facing away from the man, it did nothing to stop the sudden flood of images racing through his mind. What was even worse was that it also included the things that did happen, such as the way Strix laughed, and his bedtime routine, which included when he shook his hair free, cascading all the way down his back…

Viktor rubbed a hand over his face. He recounted the steps of taking apart his gun and reassembling it. He thought about his report to write once they reached Stone Keep. He even thought about what to have for breakfast tomorrow. It did nothing. He was well and truly fucked.

At least, the small voice said, at least he could enjoy this moment of quiet. He may not get anymore of these in the future, it reasoned. Use it to admire Strix's handsome face. That was when he told the voice to mind its own business for the second time, then tried his best not to think about anything at all.

In the end he passed out just as the sky was turning the barest shade of light outside the window. It seemed like only minutes later when he felt someone shaking his shoulder. "Sir." Strix said, voice low, but in a way that he had never heard it before. It was maybe due to the fact that Viktor was also sleep-deprived and he really wanted to go back to sleep, but whatever.

He rubbed his eyes to block out the morning light as Strix leaned back on his elbow, still on his side. "Can count on one hand the times I woke before you." He said, voice as light as the room. Whatever trepidation lingering from last night dissipated from Viktor as he took in the sight of a bared-faced Strix with his hair falling freely, like a dark curtain. Strix wasn't recoiling nor was he perturbed by whatever happened last night (which was nothing, as it should be), erasing Viktor's remaining worries, and a grin broke out on Viktor's face, unbidden.

"Gives a whole new meaning to 'morning bird' huh?" He joked.

Strix groaned, turning away to slide off the bed, but not before Viktor caught a glimpse of a smile behind a shoulder. Viktor remained in bed as he watched Strix move with purpose around the room – gathering some belongings from his bag, then padding over to the desk on the other side of the room to set them up. A mirror, a pot of paint in muted green, and a paintbrush. With his station set up, Strix used his fingers to comb through his hair with the same efficiency, gently tugging out knots before beginning to braid it. "We continuing to Stone Keep, sir?" He asked, glancing at Viktor through the popped up mirror.

"After breakfast." Viktor replied, choosing that moment to stop procrastinating (read: being a creeper) and actually prepare for said trip. He stretched his arms above his head, then scratched the skin that was bared where his tank top had rucked up, debating whether or not to shave. He rubbed his chin. Nah. While distinctly prickly, it wasn't threatening to grow into a beard anytime this morning. When they reached HQ, he can worry about having a proper shave.

...he should probably cut his hair too. The tips kept tickling the tops of his ears as he swung his legs off the bed and began the search for his wash kit.

Compared to last night, the morning routine had much less fumbling around. Once Viktor had his jacket back on and his bedroll packed, Strix was finished too, cloak settled around his shoulders and face paint sharp. 'Sharp enough to kill a man.' as Tyra would have loved to say. They made their way downstairs, where they saw the rest of their squad eating breakfast. Tyra lifted a hand in greeting as Buck waved, and Vivian nodded cordially as they all sat down. "Good sleep last night?" Tyra asked.

Viktor keenly felt the buzzing at the back of his head that signalled he didn't have very much of it at all. "It was fine." He replied.

"Adequate." Strix said as well. "Yourself?"

"Great!" Buck grinned through a mouth full of bread. "Me and Tyra had a few drinks then we went to bed. What about you Vivian?"

Vivian took a moment to finish buttering her roll before answering. "I had a restful sleep, as did my drones."

Viktor caught the last of her sentence and raised his eyebrows. "Your drones?"

"Yes. The bed was smaller than I would've liked, and for that, this establishment is getting a solid 3/5 from me."

"Then don't share it with them?" Strix suggested, choosing one of the lesser evils to focus on rather than 'Why do you put your drones in beds?'

"Who said anything about sharing?"

A pause, then-

"ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT YOU GOT THE ROOM WITH TWO BEDS AND YOU DIDN'T TELL US?!" Viktor slammed his hand down onto the table for emphasis, causing the dishes to rattle and Vivian to glare back.

"By the time I went back downstairs, you both were already gone. Tyra and Buck were already set on their rooms, so I assumed they were already asleep in their beds. If had problems with your room, then you should've told me."

Viktor gaped at her. Strix said nothing, but the sudden pokerface said everything. Finally, Viktor shook his head ruefully. "Y'know what? Don't worry about it, the night was fine otherwise."

He studiously ignored Strix's side glance and kept digging into his eggs. As much as the news of another bedroom with two separate beds infuriated him, having that singular bed wasn't that…bad. Not that Viktor trusted himself in case it happened next time – he'll just lie on the floor and not budge 'til morning. If it happened again.

And well. If afterwards Viktor's mind drifted back to that night, committing every rustle, breath, and sound to memory, he was going to keep that to himself.

[imagine-loki]

Winter's Hearts

TITLE: Winter’s Hearts CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Four/? AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine being Loki’s old friend/Lover in Asgard, but you left for Earth a long time ago. For all he knows, you might be dead, but you’re still alive and you’ve been working with SHIELD and/or the Avengers. RATING: T (so far) NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3: Click here

     You leaned against your closed door trying to fight back emotions. It had been so hard to tell Loki what you had, and there was still 150 years of backstory that you hadn’t been able to tell him yet. The revelations you had given him had been hard enough. You had a feeling he’d be breaking Frigga’s spell on his own, or possibly asking for your help to do it. You knew you could and you’d gladly break that damn spell for him. Not that it was Frigga’s fault that it was there. Even she couldn’t disobey Odin’s orders.

    You could only stall for so long. There was one other thing you had to do, so you pushed yourself away from the door. “Jarvis, where’s Thor?” you asked your phone. The AI was limited in the bedrooms.

    “He’s in training room A, Miss,” Jarvis replied.

    “Thanks Jarvis,” you told the AI while you changed into yoga pants and a sports bra, tying your hair back as you left your room. If you were going to talk to Thor in the training room, you knew that you had to be dressed to fight it out with him. He wasn’t going to be pleased either probably. “If Loki happens to come looking for me, please let him know where I went,”

    “Yes, Miss,”

    With that done, you made your way down to the training room. “Hey, Y/N, you ok?” Nat asked as you passed through the living room to grab a couple bottles of water from the fridge.

    You nodded and gave her a tentative smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Loki’s in his room. I need to go talk to Thor, but since he’s down in the training room,“ you gestured to the workout clothes.

    “Do I need to beat some sense into him for you? I know you can’t do it yourself,” that was true, you were duty bound to defend the throne, that did generally keep one from beating sense into said crown-wearer. At least in public. Usually. Shit. You were an awful Valkyrie at times. You beat sense into the boys more than once when they were being stupid.

    You laughed in reply. “I think his mom took care of that. No, I shouldn’t need him actually beaten up. If I do, I’ll call you.” She nodded, accepting your reassurance. “But Thunderhead always forgets to bring water with him when he’s planning on working out,” you held up the water bottles and Nat actually laughed.

    “Thunderhead?”

    “I’ll explain later. I…kinda have to tell him first,” you admitted. You waved to her and headed back to the elevator to head to the lower level where the training room was. Thor was in there working out without a shirt. Of course. You leaned against the doorjamb for a moment, watching before you cleared your throat and announced. “Hey Thunderer,”

    “Valkyrie,” he replied when he paused his drill to look over and see who was interrupting him. You tossed one of the bottles of water his way.

    “You always forget to stay hydrated and I don’t feel like carrying your unconscious ass back to your chambers. Again.” You told him with a smile. He paused then and just stared at you. “How much did your Lady Mother tell you?” you asked as you stepped into the room.

    “She berated me for being rude to you and hinted that things were not as they seemed. She said she could not say more, but that you were not under such constraints,” Thor finally said as he obediently downed the bottle of water. You vanished the empty bottle for him when he was done.

    “That’s true. I’m not. I probably should have told you sooner, but…”

    “I appeared to hate you, so why make it worse?” he suggested. You gave him a small smile. “You and Loki are quite similar after all,” he added in explanation. You inclined your head, giving him that point.

    “So, let me fill you in…” you told him everything that you had told Loki while he just stared in disbelieving shock.

    “You were exiled to protect Loki’s secret?” Thor finally asked. You nodded. “How can I know this is true?” he asked.

    You sighed. “Damn your brother for being the Lord of Lies and making you wary. I can use magic to remove your Lady Mother’s magic, but you wouldn’t trust that I didn’t just meddle with your memories instead. I can tell you 150 years’ worth of old stories, but you don’t remember them, so that won’t help,” you sighed heavily. “I don’t know what I can do to prove my story to you or Loki, and I’m at even more of a disadvantage as you have no reason to trust an exiled Valkyrie.” You fought back tears at his silence. Thor had changed. You all had in 900 years. He still didn’t speak again, so you nodded an extremely informal bow and left the other bottle of water for him. “Whether you believe me or not, you deserved to know, both of you did.” You turned to leave to leave him to his workout.

    “You truly cared for my brother,” Thor finally said softly.

    “I love your brother,” you replied firmly. “That never changed just because the Allfather sent me away.” You left him to his workout and headed back to your room, fighting even more emotions. Today had been trying already.

    You passed Nat in the hall, she was apparently keeping tabs on you. One look at your expression and she went stomping off to bother Thor. “Thor! You were the one who just went on a massive lecture about being nice to Y/N and Loki. Now, you’re making her cry?” Nat demanded as she stormed into the training room to go kick Thor’s ass. You rushed in and grabbed her arm before she could punch him.

    “Natasha, no. It’s not Thor’s fault,” you told her firmly.

    “The hell it’s not,” she growled. “I know you can’t beat sense into him. Let me go and I’ll do it myself,”

    “It’s not his fault. It’s mine. Just leave it alone,” they both looked shocked and hurt at your words. “It’s my fault,” you insisted. “I told him something he didn’t want to hear. We knew each other on Asgard and I reminded him of it, but have no way of proving my story to him. Really, it’s not his fault,” you dragged Nat from the room before she could knock some sense into Thor. She finally relented and went to go beat up something in one of the other training rooms. Based on the sound of pain, you thought it was Clint.

    You used magic to change back into normal clothes, jeans and a t-shirt and headed up to the kitchen to begin making dinner. It wasn’t your turn, but you had to do something to feel useful. So you made an old favorite of Loki’s, choosing absently, but smiling when you realized what you’d chosen. It was an old Asgardian fish dish you hadn’t had in years, but still knew how to make. You had a sub a few ingredients, but it would turn out just fine.

    “What’s for dinner?” Cap asked kindly as the team slowly made their way to the dining room. Bruce was dragging Tony by the arm or he wouldn’t have left his lab. Nat and Thor arrived together, both looking way more bruised than they had an hour ago. You had a feeling they were ‘talking’ out what you had told Thor.

    “A fish dish from back home,” you told Cap. “Did anyone tell Loki it was time for dinner?” you asked the group.

    “I did. He said he wasn’t hungry,” Clint told you as he got the plates out of the cabinet. Cap got the silverware and Bruce got Tony to sit at a chair and not run back to his lab. You served the dinner and saw Thor’s warm smile. He recognized the dish apparently.

    The team chatted and joked and told stories while you ate and everyone praised the wonderful meal. You sat with them through dinner. Cap and Nat cleaned up the kitchen while you made another plate, setting it on a tray with a wine glass of the Asgardian mead Thor had brought back from Asgard, a set of silverware, and a book from the library you knew a certain god would enjoy.

    You carried the tray up to Loki’s room and knocked on the door. “Go away, Thor! I already said I don’t want to hang out with your friends,” Loki growled. You hovered the tray in the air just outside of his door at waist height. You summoned a piece of stationary and a calligraphy pen to write out a quite note in Asgardian.

    The meal is safe. I prepared it and I did not let Thor help. You need to eat something, your highness.

    You signed it with they stylized sigil of your name. The note was formal, but you weren’t brave enough to drop the formality again without getting some indication from him first. Still, you couldn’t help being nice and bringing him dinner. Old habits and duty died hard.

    You knocked again harder, then ducked across the hall into your own room before he swung his door open, roaring at Thor for bothering him again. You could tell the moment he saw the tray. His roars stopped at once. You smiled and fell face first onto your bed, drained from the emotionally exhausting day. You just needed to rest for a minute.

    *

    “Valkyrie?” Thor’s voice came with a knock at your door a short time later. You groaned and got to your feet. You opened the door and stepped just out of reach. You were in pajamas and hadn’t donned your gloves again, so your arms and hands were completely bare and Thor was a toucher. Not maliciously, but he liked physical contact. “You had mentioned that you could remove the magic Mother placed…?” he asked tentatively.

    You nodded. “I can. You trust me to do it?” you asked softly. He gave you a bright smile.

    “I would not besmirch a Valkyrie’s honor by claiming I did not,” he replied. You smirked at that not-quite-an-answer. He’d apparently learned some things from Loki over the years. “Would you-?” he asked finally.

    You nodded again. “Jarvis, can you ask Nat to come to the living room?” you asked.

    “She is already there, Miss,”

    “Thanks,” you were sure to be polite to Jarvis. He was already mad at your ability to hack his systems, especially when you had made sure he couldn’t tell Tony. “I’ll do it, but downstairs,” you told Thor. He nodded and stepped back so you could follow him from the room. You walked downstairs in a companionable silence, reminding you of old times. You gestured to one end of one of the couches and settled on the other. “Telepathy based magic isn’t my strongest. I’m going to need physical contact,” you told him.

    “I thought you couldn’t touch anyone,” Thor interrupted.

    You nodded. “I can’t touch the humans. I didn’t clarify that you have some immunity. I honestly don’t know if you’ll have enough for this. It’s been 900 years since the issue has come up,” you reminded him. “But normal everyday touches on Asgard were perfectly safe,” he nodded, accepting your assessment. You looked over at Nat. “Natasha, we’re going to be playing with complex magic. Can you make sure we’re not interrupted. Unless Thor starts looking too blue, then please interrupt,” she wanted to ask, you saw it in her eyes, but she only nodded. You lifted your hands to Thor’s temples, stopping just before you touched him. “Ready?” you asked.

    “Yes. I wish to know the truth,” he told you firmly. You nodded and placed your fingertips against his temples as you dove into your magic, staring into his eyes both of you unblinking lost to the trance of power.

    Frigga’s magic was deep and everywhere in his mind. It took effort to find every ounce of it. She had done her job well, but also had seemed to lay a trail for you to be able to undo what she had done.

    She had known.

    You don’t know how long you worked, how long you sat like that, how much power you were draining into this working. It was a lot, but this was also a working that couldn’t be interrupted. Not without risking damage to his mind. You didn’t see his memories, except for the very last one that you broke free of Frigga’s spell. It was the day you were exiled. Thor had watched from the entrance to the Bifrost, off to the side where he could watch and not be seen. He had watched as you and Loki had spilled your hearts and tears. He had watched his brother’s heart shatter as Odin physically sent you through the Bifrost while Frigga held the raging sobbing Loki to keep him from following. He had watched as Frigga worked her magic, Loki’s eyes glazing, then the soft question:

    “Mother, why are we at the Bifrost?”

    Frigga smiled warmly at her son. “You were curious how it worked, darling, remember? Heimdall was going to open it for you so you could see for yourself.” Loki nodded, accepting the answer. Thor was horrified that his Mother had truly done it, had truly removed Loki’s memories.

    *

    You broke the spell, tears in your eyes as you yanked your hands back from Thor’s temples. He was shivering, but seemed otherwise unaffected. “Sorry,” you murmured, placing your hands in your lap. Thor was blinking quickly, a side effect of having his mind meddled with, but his eyes deglazed quickly. You were swaying, exhausted and drained.

    “Oh gods,” Thor said softly, obviously remembering something. It would take him awhile to go through all of the memories.

    “Don’t try to remember everything at once,” you warned, your voice betraying your exhaustion. “Give it time,” he nodded, then looked you over. You were currently trying to remember how one got to one’s feet. It was difficult to imagine how to accomplish that task.

    Thor grabbed the throw blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around you. “Come on, Kyrie, you’re in no shape after that much magic to make it to bed on your own.” You looked up at him confused, fading quickly now that the rush from focusing on that spell was gone. The old nickname hadn’t even registered. He gave you a warm smile and lifted you into his arms, like you weighed nothing. Of course you didn’t to him. The blanket was wrapped around you in such a way that he wouldn’t touch your bare skin. Obviously he could, but you would worry, plus he had just had a large dose of Jotun ice while you were working on his mind and really didn’t need more.

    Nat stood, trying to decide what to do with this development. “Relax, Lady Natasha, I am just escorting the Valkyrie back to her bed. She has done me quite the service tonight. I will explain later, but the least I can do in return is make sure she can rest from it. I will not harm her,”

    “Y/N?” Nat asked. You nodded, then let your head fwump back on Thor’s shoulder.

    “‘m ok. Thanks for helping,” you murmured. Nat’s job had been important, though she hadn’t really had to do anything. Lookouts were very important. Thor chuckled and carried you to the elevator.

    “Brother? Have you seen-” Loki’s voice roused you when Thor stepped out of the elevator on your floor. “What did you do to her?” He ran over and forcefully took you from Thor’s arms, which was a pretty impressive feat. You had a feeling Thor only handed you over so you didn’t get dropped in the tussle. “Kyrie? Kyrie?” he asked frantically, while you fought to open your eyes, too drained to function.

    “Calm, brother. She is fine. She used her magic to lift Mother’s spell from my memories,” Thor explained quickly.

    “I’m ok, love,” you murmured to Loki, only half awake and kissed his cheek automatically. You were too out of it to attempt to be formal, or remember that you were supposed to, or think. “Thunderhead is an oaf and loud, but he doesn’t lie,”

    You heard the warm smile in Loki’s reply. “Good, I would so hate to have to kill him. It would only upset Mother. And I much prefer that she is currently upset with Thor,” you smiled at his words and laid your head on his shoulder.

    “Do you remember, then?” Thor asked kindly as he walked with Loki to your room.

    Loki shook his head. “Only pieces. Mother’s magic is quite effective since it was specifically designed so I cannot break it. I was going to ask Kyrie to help, but it appears you beat me to it. And before you offer you are in no shape,” Loki added firmly for your benefit. Thor opened your bedroom door and Loki tucked you into bed. “Rest, little Valkyrie,” he bid you softly.

    “Love you too,” you murmured, eyes shut and mostly asleep. You felt him stiffen and nearly opened your eyes again to see what was wrong, but couldn’t manage it.

    “I don’t remember. We had this entire relationship, and she speaks as if I’m the love of her life. But I don’t remember,” Loki’s frustrated tone made you make a small noise and move a little, stirring back awake.

    “Come, brother. Let her rest. I know her words are unsettling when you don’t remember. She is too exhausted to guard them. You must be aware of that. Do not fault her for being lost to the memories when she spent the evening helping me rebuild them,” Thor’s voice as he was pulling Loki from the room. “Thank you, Lady Valkyrie,” Thor’s voice and then the door was closed, the dark room pulled you into sleep dreaming of days long passed.

[flightofaqrow]

pieces

qrow + Lifa Hakon [incomplete]

qrow’s not one to judge what gets Lifa through the day, but he is one to judge decisions about taking care of people. Especially when it’s a whole kingdom’s worth.

he sips at his own drink, trying to catch up. let it wash his own priorities away and forget he has better things to do than to pull someone out of a quicksand trap he never learned to stand in himself.

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“I don’t give a shit what you think.” 

Lifa’s smashed.

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not that qrow’s completely sober, but no moreso inebriated than most afternoons. clearly more of a capacity than the recently named queen draped over her own desk next to an empty… nah, that’s not even a pint-sized stein. he’s not sure they actually manufactured mugs of that size as any sort of standard. he’s not one to judge what gets her through the day, but he is one to judge decisions about taking care of people. Especially when it’s a whole kingdom’s worth.

“y’never did, i don’t think. an’ i don’t blame ya. hell, your fight for your own priorities is one of the reasons we get along alright. i’m just sayin’… maybe you should rethink what some of ‘em are.”

don’t lose everything like i have. you still have a point of return.

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Never did. It’s so ridiculous of an accusation that Lifa chokes on the burn like its her very first, years and years ago, snorting a laugh absolutely devoid of any joy. She’s much further gone than him. And that’s saying a lot, considering her constitution was like that of a wine god. She puts it down and gathers herself up, running her fingers over one of her newest scars, digging them into the newly healed line across her cheekbone. A souvenir. One of many. “I used to,” she rasped, blinking hard. He was a little hard to look at, for a number of causes. “In fact, you were one of the only voices I liked to listen to. But nobody knows anything, Branwen. Everyone lies. And everyone dies.” Lifa stared into her cup of brown, then snickered again, although it was more akin to a sob as she mumbled downwards, “That rhymed.”

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shadows still hide parts of qrow. broad shoulders lean on a pillar between Lifa and the doorway to the room, blocking her exit, sparing his. drunks he can handle, but weepy women…? he sips at his own drink, trying to catch up. let it wash his own priorities away and forget he has better things to do than to pull someone out of a quicksand trap he never learned to stand in himself.

he’ll only keep dragging her down, heavy, sinking, drowning even more than she already is.

she douses his voice in mead every time they meet, it seems. part bitter, part spiced, part burning, he laughs in return antics. “fine. ya listen to th’words, but y’don’t follow em. you go do what you want anyway, princess.”  respect should have him update the title, but she’ll have to earn it first.

“except i’m not even sure what it is you want anymore. from the sounds of it - not sure if you do either.”

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She left marks on her cheek with her nails, just short of breaking it. The tears burn in her eyes, a fire licking at the humming glass window panes of a house being scorched from within but the panes held. Queens didn’t cry. But was she even a queen? How could she be the only one left? Why her? “What I want is my family back.” Lifa might have shouted it, she meant to roar it at him like a battle cry but it came out a brittle and childish whimper. But the moment she let the words free, she felt gut punched by the truth. She had no family. Fafnir had no reason to keep Runi alive and if he did, she would never be able to– Glass crunched. Lifa slowly lifted her hand, blood oozing slowly as the booze dribbled over the counter top. In a state of numbness, she plucked the shard out of her palm and the blood flowed freer. It didn’t even hurt, not in a way she could feel anymore.

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and suddenly his whole fuckin life flashes before him in the form of one person, images searing so hot he has to turn away, black out his vision, and still he can’t escape the scenes burned into the back of his lids.

shedding angry blood instead of letting honest tears flow, all out of some misplaced, misdirected bullshit ideal of strength.

she whimpers like Raven, redefining a word to tell him and the rest of her blood and brood that they don’t count. she breaks like Tai, unable to pull himself together for two seconds long enough to take care of business. she withholds like Ruby, giving voice to everything unspoken behind sad silver eyes.

her frame may stand sturdy, but no matter how qrow shutters himself, he can’t hold it in, can’t keep the truth out, weeps within from a heart refusing to stop beating even when his his spinning head tells it to shut up, leaks from ragged edges. queens may not cry, but qrow sure as hell can’t hold back. lungs barely breathe within his own uninvited storm, but a huntsman always puts others first.

flask held over his head empties fully into a long swallow, then tucks away; alcohol dries up his eyes, liquid fire in his throat fuels courage to move move forward when others refuse. just don’t think about it.

yanking an oversized napkin from a nearby teacart, he moves from his corner to bandage his comrade up, if she lets him close without lashing out like a rabid fox.

face screwed into a scowl and teeth clenched he approaches with gritted complaint, “craven’s curses, i didn’t sign up fr’this kinda shit with you, Lifa.”

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Lifa lifted her free hand aloft, like his efforts were as surprising as a ferret suddenly running across the counter. The paper was quickly soaked in the warm liquid, the wound not closing unless Qrow held it so. She had slashed herself pretty bad, maybe even earning a few stitches. But hands always bled a lot. There was a chance it would stop on its own in a few minutes. His hissing voice finally got her to focus on him and when she saw how he was looking at her, she clenched her fist around the bandage and tried to yank her arm free. She had to be angry at someone. Because she never signed up for anything. She never had the ability to choose. How lucky she was to have him. “This shit?” Lifa demanded, “You’ll have to be more specific for me, since I can’t really filter through the endless fucking storm of it that I can’t shake off. Where can we start? What’s annoying you the most? My hand? The father I can’t bury or the home I can’t go back to? Or maybe it’s the face that I’ve failed everyone who ever needed me?!” Like fairy dust fireworks, gold exploded through her irises and overtook the green rapidly, starting a ripple effect of her aura crackling across her form. Her voice rose, but not only in volume. It seemed to swell beyond just sound and manifested itself so strongly, it was almost physical. This was the battle cry that shook Grimm in their plates. Fissures of molten gold split her skin, stinging the eyes of onlookers and Lifa raised one fist in the air and brought it down on the wood. The innkeeper probably wasn’t grateful to go from having one large bar counter top having two medium ones.

“There’s no point to me anymore!”

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his grip holds strong until he can at least tie ends off, but the napkin tears as he works, unfortunately. so qrow lets Lifa go. pull back, pull away. like they all do, even when he doesn’t push in earnest. he turns back to the shadows, growls and rips loose his own frustration in a rushed punch to a stone column, a muted clang rippling the air from rings crushing beneath a tight fist.

if the place had seen any less of its share of brawls, they’d be kicked out. and with the grimm all this emo angst must be calling closer, they might still.

fine then. she can take care of herself, even if she doesn’t believe it right now. it sure ain’t his job.

qrow’s tired. so tired of having everything blow up in his face, let alone howling the voice of his own demons back at him in a raging golden fire of a tantrum that might actually hold a candle to Yang’s terrible twos.

“yeah. that. any of it,” he gruffs, calm, if only by comparison. repressing each and every feeling that tries to empathize, because it’s too much. his hand doesn’t leave its target, and his stomach churns as alcohol-for-meals burns its lining, and his arm trembles as shoulders droop, “i’m not your boyfriend. an’ i’m definitely not your babysitter. i’m not even a partner anymore. you left.”

for a cause. apparently, a doomed one. and maybe he never should have gotten so close.

glassy eyes glare down the floorboards until he hears the splinter and the scream, and red gaze reignites in Lifa’s direction once more. Fuck her. how dare she say something like that?

because if he, cursed qrow branwen, can learn how to stand up for what’s right when he’s kicked down time and time and time again, instead of rolling over; if he can rise out of pure spite against all odds dragging every day at his efforts, at his life, keeping him from what’s left of his loved ones. then little miss sunshine warrior princess with an entire people depending on her had no fucking excuse.

“no point?” repeated words shot back sharp from his tongue. tall frame no longer slouches but looms as he leans in, dares to squint into the very sun before him.

he unhitches Harbinger from his back. holds her at his waist, makes a show of the blade’s existence, and then tosses her, still in compacted form, to clatter and land exactly across the split Lifa cracked through the countertop, “then make one.”

he goads with mocking insistence, “you know how to do that, don’t you?”

[headcanonsandmore]

Drarry, a snatched kiss in a busy house and awkwaaaaard (omg I'm SO excited for this watch me camp out on your blog while you do these asks!!!!)

Thanks, anon- this was really fun to write. It was originally going to be a headcanon, but turned into a fanfiction when I was writing it. Hope you enjoy it!

———————————————————————————————————–

A snatched kiss: A Drarry Awkward Fanfiction

It was a miserable wetday when Draco apparated outside Harry’s flat. Draco was feeling nervous- itwas his first christmas with Harry, and he was aware of all the expectationsthat came with that. He had spent most of the previous evening deciding what hewas going to wear- he’d lost several hours sleep over it, but had eventuallysettled on a white button-down shirt and sober green trousers, with his trustymuggle-made waterproof jacket slung over his shoulders to stop the rain.

Draco rang thedoorbell. He swallowed nervously- would Harry like what he looked like? Would he like the oak-matured mead that Draco had brought? Had he used too muchhair-gel? Would Harry feel intimidated?

All these questionswere blown from his mind the instant the door opened. A cacophony of noise hitDraco’s ears like a herd of stampeding elephants, and there was Harry, glassesaskew and with several gravy-stains down his already dirty jumper, standing inthe doorway.

‘Draco- hi! Comein-come in- you must be freezing! Is that mead? Thank you so much- you reallydidn’t have to- Ron, budge up- Draco’s here!’

As Draco was pulledinto the warm, bustling flat, he felt his cheeks flush- partially with thesudden heat, and partially because Harry’s hand was in his. Draco swallowedhard again, praying silently that his hands were all sweaty.

He hurriedly wiped hisfeet on the mat, and pulled his shoes off. Harry, who still hadn’t let go ofDraco’s hand, looked him up and down. Draco could feel his face started to burnagain as Harry locked eyes with him, and took a step towards him. Draco pausedfrom placing his coat on a hook on the wall. He felt like his legs were turningto stone.

Harry was barely a fewinches from him now, his mouth curling into a wide smile, and his eyes glinting.Draco swallowed nervously.

‘HARRY- YOUR OVEN ISSMOKING!’

The sharp, impatient,voice of Hermione Granger made both Harry and Draco jump. Harry gave Draco anapologetic look, and then turned on his heel towards the kitchen.

Draco stood in thedeserted hallway, his breathing still rapid, and his heart racing. He checkedhis complexion in a nearby mirror (his hair had been crumpled slightly by thehood of his coat, but no matter), and followed Harry into the brightly lit kitchen.

Harry was cursing underhis breath as he crouched over the oven, which was omitting worrying amounts ofsmoke and giving off a smell of burnt potatoes. Hermione Granger was supervisingHarry from the work-top with a stern look, something Draco noticed had gottenmore powerful since she had begun working at the Ministry of Magic.

‘Harry, I told you toset an alarm. Every year you’re like this, and every year it gets burned-’

‘’Mione- give him abreak, okay- he knows what he’s doing’

The freckled face ofRon Weasley came into view from behind an open cupboard door, clutching severalplates. Crossing the kitchen, he placed the plates on the small table, andturned to Draco, offering his hand.

‘Er- hi’ said Draco,shaking it. His relationship with Ron had never exactly been easy, especiallysince their school-days. But he appreciated that Ron was trying to bridge thegap.

‘First christmas withHarry?’ enquired Ron ‘You’re in for a treat- never a dull moment with Harry ‘Idon’t need a recipe; I’ll just wing it’ Potter cooking the meal…’

‘I am not that bad!’exclaimed Harry, turning away from the still-smoking oven. He and Draco lockedeyes again, causing Draco’s stomach to bubble uncomfortably. Draco could tellthat Harry was also remembering their brief non-conversation in the hallway afew moments prior.

‘A-anyway…’ stuttered Harry,turning his attention back to the oven ‘The potatoes are mostly okay- just abit over-done. Ron, can you help me with the vegetables?’

To Draco, the rest ofthe day seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. One moment, he and Hermione hadbeen pushed out of the kitchen by Ron, citing a need for Harry to concentrateon his cooking. The next, Hermione was opening the door to several of theirfellow Hogwarts Alumni sometime just after mid-day, although Draco didn’treally know many of the rosy-faced people wiping their shoes on the mat.

Eventually, Harry andRon asked everyone to be seated around the small table in the incredibly warmkitchen, and everyone trooped in, Draco at the back. He found himself perchedon a seat in-between Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott, but he ate in almosttotal silence whilst everyone-else talked. Draco noticed that Harry kept tryingto catch his eye, but Draco could barely look at him without getting nervous.

Eventually, the desertplates had been collected, and everyone sat in their seat, their stomachsbloated with too much good food. Draco had enjoyed the meal, but had declined asecond helping of potatoes. He was feeling like it was probably time to go, andstood up awkwardly, his chair clattering on the stone tiled floor.

‘Er- Harry’ he heardhimself saying ‘I’m gonna-I’m gonna go now’.

‘Oh’ said Harry, hisface falling ‘Okay- let me just get your coat. Follow me.’

Harry disentangled himselffrom his chair, and led Draco out of the kitchen and along the hallway, hisface hidden from Draco’s view. The sounds of the packed kitchen became moremuffled as the door closed behind them- the first time that it had been quietsince Draco had arrived.

Harry tried to reachthe hook holding Draco’s coat, but his arms couldn’t reach. Draco smiled- healways forgot how short Harry was.

‘It’s fine, Harry- I’vegot it…’

Draco leant over Harryand picked his coat off the hook. However, before he could lean back, Harryturned and placed his arms firmly but softly around Draco’s neck.

‘What are you-?’started Draco, but stopped when he saw the look on Harry’s face. The same widegrin, and that same blazing look in his eyes that he had seen briefly earlierthat day.

‘Got you now’ whisperedHarry, just before his lips met Draco’s.

Draco could feel hisface burning, just as it had been when the two of them had been alone before. Hisbrain seemed to have short-circuited, and he could taste burnt potatoes onHarry’s lips.

Harry re-arranged hisarms around Draco’s neck, and their lips parted. Draco could imagine that he wasblushing like an idiot, and was probably sweating too much. But he didn’t care-Harry Potter had just kissed him, and all the awkwardness of the majority ofthe day seemed to have evaporated.

‘Happy Holidays, Draco’breathed Harry, smiling up at him ‘I’m sorry it was so awkward…’

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Thanks again for the prompt, anon! Happy Holidays!

[lightforgedeve]

Meetings, Clouds and Brands.

Dear Journal, Eveneah and i went onto our job together to meeting with the Grand Mistress, she's the one i was talking about last time. Unfortunatlly because of me we were late, i got a bit lost in the plaguelands. Whoops. Though it didn't seem to bother them. We carried on with our meeting, once again it was a lot of talking that i felt wasn't going anywhere, i'm not saying Eveneah is bad at her job, i just don't get it. Honestly she is fantastic at it, she has done very well with us, she knows far more than us of this world. Anyways, so once again i stepped in and tried to push the conversation. It worked a bit and i feel we got things worked over faster, which was great because than i was able to ask about her toes, i haven't been able to see them yet though. I also got to learn some interesting things about the different types of elves here and why their cultures are different. Not to mention learning how they actually look a bit different, well some are more noticeable than others. The Grand Mistress was very kind to be able to take her time and tell me all this and answer my questions. I think the people she had with her were a bit shocked. Eveneah was getting impatient with me and pulled me along to leave. Oh! And she's also really pretty! Her hood kind of hides her face a bit, but she has a very pretty...silhoute about her. She really holds herself well and moves beautiful, plus i get a really good feeling from her. It's almost firmiliar but i can't quite put my finger on it. Anyways, we said our farewells and went on our way. We ended up bumping into Aursuna and High Vindicator Brutula on our way back. Apparently they came to check on us. It was kind of funny how they exchanged words, it almost looked like how i imagined worried parents talked to each other. It really made me giggle. It's rather nice knowing i can feel safe and have a sort of family like thing here. It makes me feel more motivated to do them proud and really show them that i'll work hard and do the best that i can. We headed back to Telaar and reported in. I got a bit of a sense that the High Vindicator might be upset with me still about what happened in the last meeting. It's...making me worry that my promotion is just a means for me to learn some harsh lesson, or a type of punishment. I am not sure what to do with such thoughts or feelings. I don't really know what i'm in charge of doing or really understand what's expected of me from this. I will have to dwell on it tomorrow, i have been granted the day off to rest so i think i'll do some light explores and enjoy my time in the sun and relax in a meadow somewhere just to watch the clouds. Least, i hope it's not a rainy day.

Dear Journal, Nagrad is a truy beautiful place. I slept in a bit more than usual today, had a delious breakfast of mixed berries with Talbuk cream yogurt with a clefthoof steak marinated in a light apple mead, and some scrambled condor eggs with some salt and pepper. A very filling treat for sure! It was all so delicous! After such i did some light reading in my room to wake up a bit, than began my morning routine exercises. Beginning with a fifty sit ups, fifty squats, fifty push ups and can't forget the lunges! Fifty of those as well of course. But of course, before and after any work out one must always stretch! That's the most important part! And hydrating, you should always have some water on hand. After ensuring i did another good stretch and gather a couple water flasks i proceeded with my three hour run. I just stuck to the main roads in Nagrad and just followed along. Going a hour and a half one way and than going back. It was such a beautiful day, it made me excite to be out and about and just enjoying the air. It was so peaceful and relaxing, i've never been really able to just enjoy my excirse routine like this before. It made me feel a whole new way and way more refreshed than before. The crisp clean air in my lungs, the soft gentle breeze cooling my body as i went on my way. The fact that clean real water wasn't far off so if i ran out of water i could just refill it. The sounds of...just life. All around me. The Clefthoofs on their marches, the Talbuks dancing free and clear. The birds gliding through the air in peace. The sounds of bugs and frogs and fish by the waters. I admit i had to take a moment to just cry by the road. Just...the peace and changing enviroment, untouched, so clear, so crisp. It was so different. It was something i've never really known or seen before. After calming down i finished my run. Than proceeded to clean myself off and have a good lunch. Just a salad of grass, lettuce, diced tomatoes, some berries, spinach. Mostly green, but the good stuff! Of course, i hide the grass in to save myself the odd stare. I don't get why i can't eat it, it's yummy, especially with a nice drizzle of whatever salad dressing is called. Think it has like some vinegar or something in it? I'm not sure, but we have it and it's yummy for my tummy! I also had some bread, i think it was made with some oats here. It's really good and has a bit of honey it in. I really am liking sweet things. After lunch i took a light nap, just a few minutes to let my body rest and relax. Than i set out to find the perfect spot, off to explore! I found a nice lake to sit by, i layed out a blanket i brought with me and relaxed some more. It was a bit strange at first, i don't think i've ever just sat somewhere quietly before and done....nothing. So it was hard getting comfortable at first and there always seemed to be this one rock under my back. In time i a slowly settled and was able to just sit and watch the clouds, at first i started counting them and than lost count and than i started noticing some of them had shapes. I couldn't help a grin and start listing what they looked like! Oh and of course i brought my Marsuul with me. He seemed to really enjoy his time too. He ran around a good bit in the grass, stalking random bugs and other small critters before curling in with me to rest.  And than of course we played a little bit with a stick. I'd throw it and he'd go get it and bring it back. Was a lot of fun. I really should name him, i just...can never think of anything. I've had him for about three years. He's still so tiny though. I really wasn't sure he'd make it. As it was starting to get dark we headed back home and went on to have supper. Which was a hearty meal of clefthoof stew with carrots, potatoes and celery chunks. It was delicious. However it made me think back on the stew Eveneah is going to teach me to make and i bet that's going to be even better! After supper i went on to clean off once more and am winding down, before i go to bed i think i'm going to write out what i think being an Arbiter is going to be about, what this all means to me and what i believe i am to do. Oh and of course i have to brush my teeth and buff my hooves before bed. Anyways, i'm off for now. Talk to you later!

Dear journal,

Today was the big day. I have been nervous all day. I did my usual morning routine, but i think i missed some things and i didn't go for my run. The day sort of just...passed me by. In the afternoon the High Vindicator and i went over what was going to happen during the ceremony, a general run down, so on. I didn't even think to ask him about what it all meant, i just felt...it wasn't right, espically at this point. I'm not sure, i feel...perhaps lost? I'm not sure. I think i've lost him abit, least with how we could have been working together. I'm not sure. Somethings lost, that's how i feel. Before i knew it the ceremony was taking place. A lot more people showed up than i thought would, i became really nervous than. However, i think i did well keeping myself proffesional and serious through it. Didn't mess up anything! Though i didn't get to thank everyone for coming personally as i was busy heading off to meet with the Grand Mistress once more with the Exarch and Aursuna and Eveneah. Though it was nice meeting with the new group joining our alliance, believe it was the Vindicari Templari. I asked the Exarch about them later to get some general information. We also had the City State come with us and one of them was kind enough to give me some gold as a gift! I was stunned! Apparently it was from multiples, but i also suspect it was just from the one man. I never caught his name, but i've seen him before in Amberstill. I think he's a guard like me. He was quiet the last time i saw him, however i think he's a nice guy. I get a good feeling from him. So i was happy to see him once more. I still can't believe i got such a gift. It made me very happy. I was able to talk to a few, mostly to lil Verha, she's so cute. it reminded me about making that swing, i'll make sure to do it tomorrow. The ceremony went well, the burning of my brand was the only thing that bothered me. But it didn't last long and it wasn't as bad as i thought it'd be. The Exarch even did a beautiful speech at the end, reconfirming exactly what we stand for. Which is with agreeing with how we should be doing things in the future and is on par with the Grand Mistress. So i was very happy to hear him say it, out and clear for everyone, and most especially our allies, to understand. It made me feel proud and feel better about standing out to the High Vindicator. As the others went on downstairs, the four of us i mentioned before went to meet with the Grand Mistress.  Where once more the Exarch confirmed our stance is aligned with hers. The two than had to talk privately so than Aursuna, myself and Eveneah spoke. At first i had no idea what the two others were talking about, but than i realized they were talking about mating pairs. I thought it was cute that Aursuna brought it up to Eveneah. It once more reminded me of a parent figure. Than i think she mentioned on for when Eveneah retires or carries on that i am to take over? I'm not sure, i just sort of wasn't really understanding most of the conversation at hand. I agree of course that some day Eveneah should enjoy retiring, as their life span is not long like our own and our purpose is so others can have such lives as we work to preserve it. But.. i mean. Is that what Eveneah wants? And...she's still young. I think, so why think of that now? Soon the Grand Mistress and the Exarch returned. He asked is we had any other questions, besides me having earlier asked to see her toes, which again she evaded me! At such anyways, Eveneah inquired as to why the Grand Mistress had an interest in me. I wasn't aware she was, i thought i was just doing my job and going where asked to. But apparently the last meeting only happened if i was coming or something? I don't get it. Anyways, apparently she thinks i'm firey because of what i did at the Ambertstill meeting, when i spoke out. I don't quite get it, but i think it's a good compliment. I've never been called firey before. After which the others started leaving and i wished to ensure the Grand Mistress was going to be safe on her way. We talked for a few moments more, she was curious about my fascination with toes so i explained it to her. I also came to a conclusion that toes...are a bit of an advantage in battle. As they help one shift stances and move about more easily. As with hooves you must rely on what's under your hoof to enforce move-ability, but with toes you don't need to so much. Talking with her only made me start to like her more. I really look forward and am happy to be working with her in the future. I hope it doesn't end after the campaigns. Upon her leaving i headed back to get ready for rest, however i saw the Exarch and decided it was time to unfurl how i've been feeling towards the High Vindicator and talk about my promotion. He's really a wonderful speaker and really helped me feel better about how i have been feeling. He expressed some concerns as well and i was able to get a better view and understanding of himself and the High Vindicator. I really think now, after all this, i really need to make this title my own. I am going to embrace it and really show that it is something amazing. My job is to ensure the safety of life, ensure civilians are not harmed in the coming days and to keep an eye on those who would veer from the path of the Light by being consumed in their own need for revenge or hatred. No matter the form, i will show the High Vindicator that life, all life, is worth preserving. If i'm just to be a symbol or something for him to show blame upon when something goes wrong well guess what, i'm more than that and i'll ensure things go well! Because i have allies too and i know together we can plan this out perfectly and save many people! Whew, i think that's still going to be a lot of work, but it'll all be worth it!

[tastesoftamriel]

The Bee and Barb (a long tale by Talviel)

It was Loredas, 23rd of Rain’s Hand, 4E 203, and I was 19 years old. I was the saviour of Skyrim, having defeated Alduin and ending the Dragon Crisis, a Nightingale, and the head of the Thieves Guild. Between my adventures and work for the Guild, I had more coin than I ever hoped to see in my lifetime. I finally had enough septims to pay the face shaper by the Ragged Flagon to change my natural dark brown hair that I’d inherited from my Imperial mother to a spooky ashen grey I’d wanted all my life. I’d bought my parents a house called Honeyside near the marketplace, removing them from the squalor of the Beggar’s Row hut we’d lived in since I was born, and found them both profitable jobs in the Jarl’s Palace. People still cheered when they saw me on the streets, despite my Guild armour and reputation for being probably the best fighter and most notorious thief in Skyrim.  My newfound fame irked me despite it being over six months since I’d slain Alduin, but I smiled and chatted to anyone who approached me.

I was in the Ragged Flagon chatting with Vekel the Man when Vex walked up to me with her usual expression of annoyance. “What’s up, Vex?” I asked. “Can I interest you in the easiest heist job of your life?” She grumbled, motioning to Vekel to pour her some wine. “Vex, I’m the head of the Guild now and I’ve got shit to do. Why not get Rune or someone to do it? Or do it yourself for a change.” “Ha-hardy-ha.” She said sarcastically. “Literally everyone is on a job. Since you helped revive the Guild, everyone in Skyrim wants a piece of us. And I don’t leave the Flagon unless it’s to sleep, you know it. Every now and again, we like to remind the shopkeepers that we’re in charge. If that means breaking into their strongboxes and stealing something valuable from them, then so be it. Feel like doing a bit of shopping…the Guild way?” I sighed, taking a sip of mead. “Fine, lay it on me then.” “Keerava at the B and B apparently carries flawless diamond on her. I want it.”

I felt a twang of guilt, as Keerava, the Argonian owner of the Bee and Barb, had never been anything but kind to me since I first set foot in her establishment at the age of 16. Of course, these days I paid for my meals, but as an impoverished young girl running with the Guild, she would always let me sit by the fire with a mug of cider and a basket of bread when I was temporarily kicked out of home and felt too weary to go back to the cistern’s hard hay mattresses. But it was a simple job and she wouldn’t notice a thing, so I drained my tankard and stood up. “Be back in 30 minutes.” I grumbled, heading off. I stopped in the cistern to change into civilian clothing to mask my intentions, then made my way up through the trap door.

It was a rainy day, colder than expected. I pulled up the hood of my cloak while nodding to some guards I passed who complained about patrolling in that weather. I crossed the marketplace and made it into the B and B. It was early morning, and the establishment wasn’t open yet. Talen-jei, the co-owner, was busy stoking the hearth. “What do you want?” He hissed, his obvious dislike for me showing. “I’m just looking for Keerava.” “Upstairs.” He grunted, turning back to the fire. I made my way up the wooden stairs that the Argonians kept proudly polished, and looked for Keerava. She was busy making the bed in one of the rooms. I coughed, and she turned around.

“Odd to see you this morning Talviel, we haven’t even opened yet.” She grinned, her harsh voice more of a croak than anything else. “Kitchen’s not ready yet, but we do have some apples in a barrel in the cellar. Help yourself, but try drop us a few septims on the way out, will ya?” “Oh, I just came to chat.” I smiled innocently, and made some small talk while leaning close to the wall so I could see her belt pouch. Luckily, it was just within finger’s reach and I snapped the clasp open. All of a sudden, a loud whooping sound rang through the room, and Keerava’s hand went to her pouch. “And just what do you think you’re doing?” She asked me angrily. “I had this pouch enchanted by a mage with a security spell, and you’re the first one to try break into it? Shame on you! You’d better have a good reason for this before I kick you out onto the street for the guards to handle.” She snapped angrily. “I…” I stuttered, never having encountered anything with a security spell in my life. The Riften locals were getting smart, it seemed. “Keerava, I’m sorry, I was sent here on a job and got told to lift your diamond and I didn’t want to do it because you’ve been so nice to me since I was a kid and-” “By the Hist child, slow down! I can barely hear a word you’re saying!” I buried my face in my hands in shame, both for mucking up a simple job and for betraying the trust of someone who cared for me. Her voice softened and she patted the partially made bed, indicating for me to sit down. She sat by by side, looking concerned.

“Talviel, child, everyone in Skyrim knows you’re with the Guild. Even if you’re not in armour, the way you walk gives it away. But you’re better than this. I remember our first encounter: you were poor but so honest, and I know that honesty is still there in your heart.” I said nothing, as tears of shame dripped onto the floorboards. She continued, “I know one of the real reasons you’re with the Guild. The way you look at that Brynjolf fellow…I’ve seen you in here, walking through the alleys and market. He’s no good for you, child. He’s going to break your heart. Thieves are selfish, and I know you’re not. Remember the time you came in after the Dragon Crisis? What did you give me?” “A…a dragonbone knife and a copy of Uncommon Taste.” I whispered. “That’s right. And you said you carved the knife yourself, specially for the kitchen. Look at yourself, child. You’re not selfish like those people in the cistern.”

“Keerava, I’m nothing without them. I would still be living by the Ratways, helping my father catch fish or scooping horse shit in the stables if it weren’t for them. You don’t understand. While I was gone…I killed. I plundered and looted and stole at any given chance. I’m not an innocent child anymore. And I’m the leader of the Guild, I can’t just leave them. They’re my family.” Keerava smiled, wiping a tear from my cheek.“ But you have a real family to go back to, and I know they’ll take you after all you’ve done for them. And…I can be your family too.” I looked at her without comprehension. “Talviel, when you were nothing more than a hatchling, I once saw you bringing a tray of cookies to the orphanage. You won’t remember this, but I asked you who made them, and you said you did, all by yourself. As you grew older I saw you selling bread and cauldrons of stew in the marketplace, from animals you’d hunted with your own bow. To be honest, our sales in stew dropped during that time, because everyone raved about how good yours was! What I’m proposing is simple: start a new life, come work in the kitchens here for me. You’re a natural, and this is a safe space for you with honest work.”

I sat in silence, pondering. “I don’t know, Keerava, the Guild isn’t going to take this well. I’m in charge, for them it’ll be like the death of the High King. I do love cooking, I’m always doing that when I’m free in the cisterns…but I can’t give you an honest answer just yet. Can you give me some time to think this over?” “Of course, child. Do what you need to do, and when you’re ready -if you’re ready- come back and talk to me. Don’t worry, I won’t report you to the guards.” I stood up, thanking her profusely, saying I’d get back within a week. As I left the room, she called out. “And one more thing, Talviel. I wouldn’t pick any pouches in Riften again if I were you. Practically the whole town has invested in security enchantments.” I swore under my breath and made my way back to the cistern.

“Back from a job, huh? Hope it went well!” Sapphire smiled as I climbed down through the trapdoor, blissfully unaware of what was going through my head. I just patted her on the shoulder and slouched my way to the Flagon. “Pull up a seat…have a drink.” Delvin said, seeing my knitted brows as I came in. I sighed and sat down heavily on the seat opposite his, groaning and thunking my head onto my arms. “I think I’ll need more than just one drink, Delvin.” I said, muffled and not moving. “Oh dear, boss is having a bad day. Vekel, have you got any more of that sujamma stuff?” Delvin called over. Vekel soon brought over a pot of sujamma and a shot glass. I raised my head to pour myself a shot, and was just about to down it when Vex walked in. She glanced at me, Delvin, and the sujamma. “So…I’ll take it that things somehow didn’t go well.” She said, raising an eyebrow. “Oh Vex, you have no idea.”

After I’d finished telling Vex and Delvin about the new security enchantments, they swore and Delvin left to find a contact who could get a more disreputable mage to come up with a counter-spell we could enchant our armour with. “Somehow I have a feeling you haven’t told me everything yet.” Vex said, staring at me from the corner of her eye as she sipped her sujamma. “Vex, did I ever tell you that you’re annoyingly perceptive?” “Thanks, I don’t get compliments like that very often.” “Just…lay off for a bit. I’ve got a lot on my mind right now and since Brynjolf is my second in command I need to discuss things with him first. Where is that damn guy, anyway?” I said, realising I hadn’t seen him in over two days. “That’s not a very nice way to talk about your one true love.” Vex said sarcastically, and I threw a screwed up ball of parchment at her face. “Last I heard he was on a job in Falkreath or something. Check your spreadsheet, he’d definitely have signed off.”

I made my way to my desk in the cisterns. Our formerly blank ledger was full of names. My finger scanned down the page for Brynjolf’s name. “Brynjolf…Falkreath…signed out 18th of Rain’s Hand, expected return date 25th of Rain’s Hand. Great.” I grumbled, partially out of annoyance of waiting and partially because I missed seeing his red head walking around the cistern while calling everyone “lass” or “lad”. I sighed and left a note on my desk that I was feeling unwell and was going to stay with my parents at Honeyside and was only to be contacted upon urgent business. With that, I made my way back out again, letting the unrelenting drizzle splash on my face. I walked slowly to my parents’ house, trying not to think about anything at all. They were both at work, so I unlocked the door, lit the fireplace, kicked off my boots, and sat on the little bunk my father had made for me in the living quarters.

I must have fallen asleep as I heard the key turning in the lock and heard my mother and father come in. They spotted me on the bed and looked confused, as it wasn’t time for my weekly visit. “Talviel, what are you doing here?” My father cleared his throat, startling me to full consciousness. “Oh, hello folks.” I yawned. “Just…not feeling too well, and need a softer bed than those excuses for mattresses down in the cistern.” My mother undid her cloak and hung it up to dry by the fire. “You always have been the worst liar, Talviel. Something’s happened, out with it.” I moved to the dining table and poured myself a tankard of mead, taking a big gulp before starting. “Well parents, I have officially had the weirdest day since I discovered I was the Dragonborn…”

We all sat in silence once I finished speaking. My mother was the first to break the silence. “Talviel, I know it was rough of us to kick you out when we discovered you were with the Thieves Guild, but we realise that was unfair and we’re grateful for our new home and jobs and the coin that comes with it. But I agree with Keerava entirely. You’ve been running with that unsavoury crowd for too long, and you deserve a better chance at life. You would make an excellent chef, and who knows, you might be working in the Jarl’s kitchen next.” My father was silent for a moment, before muttering, “Aye, got to agree with your mother. You know I don’t have the cleanest past, child, but I don’t want you to repeat my mistakes. Get yourself an honest job. Your sweetcakes and rabbit stew are the best I’ve ever tasted, and I’ve travelled all the way to Cyrodiil. I think this would be the perfect job for you.” I groaned. “I knew you both would say that. Didn’t say I’d made up my mind yet though, and I’ve still got to talk to Brynjolf when he gets back. “That man again? Talviel, forget it. It’s not going to happen. As for Guild things, we don’t want to know.”

Finally the 25th rolled around and I went back to the cistern, chewing my nails. Everyone asked if I felt better and I put on a pantomime of being healthy as a horse even though I felt rotten inside. I kept to my desk, reading a novel instead of doing whatever a Guild ringleader was meant to do. At last, in the early evening while I was making dinner, I heard the trapdoor creak open and the cheery call of “Daddy’s home, lads and lasses!” I sighed with relief. “Brynjolf, thank goodness you’re back. I need to speak with you, urgently. Well, after I finish making this quiche anyway.” I said, dusting the flour off my hands and slapping him on the back in greeting. “Not a problem, lass. But only if you let me have some, it smells good.” He winked, and my heart skipped a beat. “Agreed. I’m not very hungry anyway.”

After we ate, we went up the trapdoor, where the blissfully cool night air washed over us. “Where should we go, lass?” Brynjolf asked, as pleased as I was to breathe in the smell of nightshade and grass as opposed to the dank air down in the cistern. “I don’t know, somewhere quiet where nobody can hear us. Can we go sit by the lake maybe? I just need to get out of Riften’s walls.” He nodded, and we were let out the back gate by the guards and made our way to the lake. We sat next to each other in silence for a while, throwing pebbles at the water while torchbugs flittered overhead and I breathed in his scent of cinnamon and cloves. It was a lovely spring night, and it would have been romantic if so much wasn’t weighing on my mind. “How was Falkreath?” I asked, breaking the ice. “About as expected. Had to have a chat with Astrid over at the Dark Brotherhood, though I don’t see why Delvin couldn’t have done it since they’re pals.” He looked over at me, the moon lighting up his beautiful face that I wanted to kiss so badly. “But that’s not why you called me here, is it lass?” “No, Brynjolf. I have…some news. You probably won’t like it, but I’ve kind of made up my mind.”

I told him everything, except for the part about him probably breaking my heart. He listened in silence. “I see. Lass, I’ve never been cut out to be a leader, but if this is what you want, I’m happy for you and by all means you should do it. And I’ll see you often anyway, since I usually duck in the B and B for lunch and look out for recruits. Just like you, a couple of years ago in your rags with that bottle of mead. How you’ve grown.” I smiled wanly, relief and sadness washing over me. “Thank you, Brynjolf. I wish I didn’t have to leave, but maybe the criminal life just isn’t for me.” “Aye, it’s not for everyone, lass. I understand you completely and while I’m reluctant, I’ll take over as Guild Leader.” His hand brushed mine, and lingered there. “So what happens now?” “I’ll break the news to everyone. I don’t want to put you through any more trouble, lass. Spend one last night with us, and go to your new home in the morning. I’ll see you there in the afternoon, so you’d better have something good for the lunch special.” I laughed, and nodded in reply as tears started to well up in my eyes. “Talviel, one chapter ends and another begins. You’re the saviour of Skyrim. The Dovahkiin, a Nightingale, and forever a member of the Thieves Guild. You can do whatever you set your mind to.” Brynjolf said softly, and wiped the tears from my cheeks, brushing back my hair. I felt like I was going to crumble to dust when he touched me, and my heart broke. Keerava was right.

Early next morning while everyone was sleeping, I packed my rucksack and dressed in civilian clothing. I folded my Guild armour neatly and left it on the bed along with my Nightingale blade. Turning around to see my family fast asleep, I wished them farewell silently and climbed through the trapdoor for the last time.

[corrahdarling]

Devoted - Ch. 9 - The Server

      The next two weeks went by very quickly for Sigyn.

      They were filled with stolen glances and secret kisses between she and Loki. She was still fulfilling her duties, after all she was still his maid, but things were much different now. Now, when she woke in the mornings, she actually wanted to go to him and wrap herself in his arms... feeling his lean muscle wrapping around her... smelling him.... she never wanted to let him go. She and Loki both knew that their relationship was doomed, however, and that neither of their fathers would approve. They would have to keep everything a secret, at least for now.

      It was only a few hours until the celebration of Winternights began. Winternights was a time to remember deceased loved ones, but also a time to ward off evil spirits that walk amongst the living. There would be a big feast tonight marking the beginning of the festival, with everything imaginable to gorge upon, and unlimited amounts of mead to make the celebration even more jovial. After the feast, big bonfires would be lit around Asgard to 'frighten away' the evil spirits.

      Tomorrow night was Sigyn's favorite event, however. Odin and Frigga always held a masquerade ball where you had to dress in your absolute finest, but there was a stipulation... You must wear a mask at all times. The masks were meant to symbolize protection, by not allowing the evil spirits to see your true face. Sigyn had heard many rumors of debauchery after the ball. Apparently not being able to see the face of the person you were going home with was exciting...

      Sigyn snickered and blushed as she thought about it. She walked to the kitchen for Loki's breakfast. There were people everywhere beginning to decorate and prepare for the upcoming events. She entered the kitchen and the excitement and tension was palpable. Brunhilde practically glided across the floor giving orders to her cooks. They had so much to do to get ready for the feast, and it all rested on her shoulders.

      "Sigyn! I need to see you, dearie!" She yelled across the kitchen. Sigyn's shoulders sunk as she heard that. She turned around to see Brunhilde's red face, flour scattered all over her plump cheeks, and could not help but laugh.

      "Oh hush, little girl. If you were old and stressed like me, you'd look like this too!" Sigyn reached out and wiped the flour off Brunhilde's face, smiling.

      "I need you to help serve tonight. I have a few girls lined up, but since you work for Loki and the royal family, I'd like for you to serve their table. He will be here tonight, and I am sure he will be able to take care of himself for a few hours while you're here!" Sigyn froze. The last thing she wanted to do was serve Odin's table during the feast. She was so clumsy, and she knew it would be even worse if she was nervous. She really didn't want to embarrass herself in front of Loki.

      "Brunhilde, can't I serve another table? I'm much too clumsy for that! What if I spill a jug of mead in Odin's lap?"

      "Hush now, you will be fine! Wear your nicest servants dress and be here at 5. Now, off with you!" Brunhilde turned on her heels and was on to something else before Sigyn could say another word. She grabbed Loki's breakfast tray and huffed as she turned to head to his quarters. She knocked quietly, opened the door, and walked in. After setting the tray down and surveying the room, she realized Loki wasn't there. She turned and looked all around... She didn’t see him, but she could feel his presence in that room.

      Suddenly, she felt sweet invisible lips touch hers, and felt large invisible hands cradle her face. Those soft lips traveled down her neck as one of the hands tilted her head to the side to gain better access. The other hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her close to a very tall invisible body. She grinned as a moan escaped her lips.

      “Mmmm... good morning, my Prince..."

      A soft, cold green light shimmered around her as Loki appeared, in the flesh. "How did you know that was me? It could have been anyone kissing you like that, and you would have just stood there and let them!" Loki smiled.

      "No, my Prince... No one else could kiss me like you do."

      Sigyn removed the tray lid and fixed their breakfast, although she was much too nervous to eat. She explained to him that she was being made to serve Odin's table at the feast that night, and how scared she was about messing it up. Loki's brows furrowed and he appeared angry that Brunhilde had asked her to do that.

      He spoke up. "One day you will not have to serve anyone. I promise. You will have people serving you."

      Sigyn was confused about what Loki meant by that, but she didn't dare ask. Sometimes it seemed like Loki spoke in riddles, and she was much too nervous to try and figure it out then. She managed to get a few pieces of fruit down, while she watched Loki eat his eggs and bread. When he was finished she cleaned up their mess and gathered up the tray.

      "I will be back in a few moments to begin my cleaning, my Prince."

      "No, I want you to take the day to rest. Sounds like you may need all your strength and concentration tonight... I don’t want a vat of gravy dumped down my breeches." Loki said sarcastically.

      She curtseyed to Loki and then stood on her tip toes and kissed him. "Thank you... Wise ass."

      Loki grabbed her chin and whispered "You will be punished for that little quip later...” He swatted her behind.

      Sigyn giggled as she ran out of the room with the tray. She returned it to the kitchen, and locked herself in her room. She ran a hot bath and submerged her body in it. This was very different. Normally she didn't have to serve at things like this. Being one of Frigga's maidens, she was always included in the festivities... She feasted with everyone else, and had a splendid time. But not now. She was truly a servant, and that was all.

      She relaxed on her bed for a while, reading a book on basic magic Loki had let her borrow. She took a nap, and when she awoke it was time to get ready. She put on her bra and panties, pressed her best servants dress, and slipped into it. She braided her long hair into two braids, and then wound them around her head pinning them into place. She pinched her cheeks, and applied some balm to her lips. She was as ready as she would ever be. She knocked on Loki's door to see if he needed help applying his armor, but he had already left. Enough stalling, she made her way to the kitchen.

      She was nearly knocked over as she entered the kitchen. She had never seen so many people in one place! She heard Brunhilde fussing at someone, so she walked toward her voice... She was yelling at a man that was baking bread, but apparently he wasn’t doing it fast enough.

      “Brunhilde!”

      “Sigyn, just go to the front of the kitchen and find the other girls! We’ll be ready in a quick minute!”

      Sigyn weaved her way through all the hustle and bustle and saw a group of girls that were dressed the same way she was. She recognized a few of them because they were some of the same ones that had served her during the same feast, just last year. She joined the group, and a few of the girls gave her snide looks. The girl beside her stuck her hand out. She was about Sigyn’s size, although a bit younger, with chestnut hair and deep brown eyes.

      “Hiya. I’m Asta. I guess you’re a server tonight too?”

      Sigyn shook Asta’s hand and nodded. “Yes, I am. My name is Sigyn.”

     “Yep, I know who you are. It's gotta be strange to go from being served to serving, huh? I heard you were attending the All-Father’s table, too. Good luck with that...”

      Sigyn nervously laughed. “Thanks.”

      Asta continued. “Look at it this way: It’s gotta be easier than being the maid of a monster!”

      Sigyn’s breath hitched in her throat. Did she really just say that about Loki? Before she could correct Asta, Brunhilde started giving them their orders... Basically they were just to carry the food out on platters, and then refill drinks as necessary... They were to stand by the wall behind the tables, to be at the beck and call of the revelers, until the end of the meal. Brunhilde motioned for Sigyn to go first, since she was waiting on the most important table of them all. She took a deep breath, grabbed her jug of mead and headed out into the large dining hall. She had to make it look like she was confident, even though her hands trembled. Odin’s table wasn’t hard to spot with him standing at the head of the table talking, Thor telling a story of battle for the third time, and Loki slumped and sulking in his chair. He wanted to be here as much as she did.

      Sigyn walked to Odin, and dropped into a curtsey. “Would you like some mead, All-Father?”

      Odin smiled at her. “Yes, Sigyn, thank you.” He looked to Loki, and noticed Loki was staring at her with something different in his eyes. It was rare to see love and admiration in his son’s eyes, but he was seeing it now. Sigyn walked around to the other side of the table.

      “Good evening, Prince Thor. Happy Winternights.” She smiled warmly at him as she poured his flagon full of mead. He looked up at her and reciprocated the smile. “Thank you, little Sigyn! Did you just hear me telling everyone how I beat the village of Ogres the other day? All by myself, mind you!”

      She giggled. “Yes, my prince. You are very brave and strong, indeed. We are so lucky to have you!” Thor beamed at her compliments.

      She made her way back to the other side of the table to serve Loki next. He looked very intimidating in his full armor. Gleaming gold and green... His magnificent horned helmet made him two feet taller. She dropped into a low bow, and looked up at him through her long lashes. One of the corners of her mouth raised into a smirk. She spoke quietly. “You are looking mighty handsome tonight, milord. You must be very happy.”

      “Oh, indeed I am.” He let his eyes roam over her face, and down further until they stopped on her breasts. She was bowing so low, that the neck of her dress exposed the tops of her round globes to him. He looked back up into her eyes, as his finger found his top lip and began to rub it back and forth. She poured his flagon of mead, gave him a tiny wink, and made her way around the rest of the table. Also seated with Odin, Thor and Loki, were Lady Sif, the Warriors Three, and five high- ranking warriors from Odin’s special army, The Scarlet Nighthawks. She didn’t like the way those men looked at her, but she continued her job. The faster she got it done, the faster she could leave. She could see the men talking amongst themselves while looking at her. Loki noticed it too.

      She finally finished bringing out all the food for her table, so she began refilling drinks, and taking away soiled plates. She worked her way around the table and finally got to the men. They had already consumed a large amount of mead and were getting loud. One of them turned completely around on the bench to face Sigyn. He was a young man, and would have been very attractive if it weren't for his personality.

      “Well... aren’t you a beauty? I heard you were Loki’s little whore now! When he uses you up, do you think he would pass you on over to us?” He grabbed Sigyn and pulled her down to his lap. She struggled to get off of his lap but the man was too strong. His lips went to her neck, and his hand started to travel up her leg, under the hem of her dress and up to her panties. He reeked of smoke and alcohol. She cried, kicked and pleaded with him to let her go, until a pair of stronger hands pulled her off the man’s lap and threw her to the side. She hit the floor hard and scooted to the wall, clutching her skirt and pulling it back down.

      Loki’s hands glowed green, as strings of magic flowed from his fingertips through the air, until they wrapped around the man’s neck. In one swift movement of Loki’s hand, the man’s neck snapped and he fell limply to the ground. Sigyn shrieked at the frightening sight.

      The whole room was silent, as they looked on in horror. Odin stood and spoke quietly, “Loki, my son. I believe you need to retire for the evening.”

      Looking around, Loki nodded in agreement. He reached his hand out to Sigyn and helped her up. He led her out of the dining hall, never letting her out of his grasp. He did not speak a word until they were locked securely in his chambers.

      “HOW DARE HE LAY A HAND ON YOU? And he knew you were mine! He said so! The nerve of that bastard... and he’s supposed to be an upstanding Nighthawk?” Loki said sarcastically. “Odin is an old fool to let a man like that at our table!”

      Sigyn’s arms were crossed and she was crying. She was shaken up not only from the man violating her in front of the whole palace, but also from watching someone she loved basically commit murder.

      “My Prince... you killed him.”

      Loki, seeing how upset Sigyn was, put a finger under her chin and tilted her face up toward his. “I was not going to sit there and idly watch him touch you... or worse. I bet he would have had you right there on the table if I hadn’t stopped him. He called you a whore, Sigyn! I will not let someone speak about you that way. I had every right to do what I just did... only I should have cut his tongue out of his head first.”

      Sigyn sniffled as she nodded as she grabbed his hand. “I know you were protecting me. Thank you, milord... for doing what you did. It was a very noble thing.”

      Loki placed a kiss on her forehead. “I will protect you until my dying breath, Sigyn.”

      They stood in front of the fireplace, locked in an embrace, for what seemed like hours. Loki held her, and rocked her back and forth soothing her like a child.

      "Go retrieve the things that you need for bedtime. You will sleep in my room tonight. I do not want you to be alone."

      Sigyn was hesitant, and he could tell.

      "I will not touch you, I just want you to be safe. You will sleep in my bed, I will sleep in front of the fireplace. Now, go, and hurry back."

      Sigyn ran to her room and grabbed her bag, and threw the few things she needed into it. She went back to Loki's room, and went straight into his washroom. She removed her dress and undergarments, folded them, and put them in her bag. She washed up at the sink, as she could still feel the man's grimy hands on her. She slipped her sheer nightgown over her head, and dabbed a bit of perfume behind her ears. She removed her braids, and ran her comb through her hair, working through the tangles from the day. Putting her things back into her bag, she slowly opened the door. She saw Loki leaning on the massive mantle, thoughtfully looking down into the fire. He had removed everything but his leather breeches and boots. The way the flickering fire illuminated his tall, lean frame hypnotized her. She found herself wondering what it would feel like to have her legs wrapped around him... to feel those muscles moving in between her thighs. She hadn't had much experience with men, but Loki somehow made her feel more sexual than she ever had.

      He turned around and noticed her head poking out of the washroom, but she looked like she was lost in thought... and she was staring at him. He grinned as he cleared his throat. "Sigyn? I will turn my back and allow you to climb into bed."

      She blushed, knowing he had caught her staring at him. She tip-toed across the cold stone floor, and climbed into his massive bed. She had been in it before, but couldn't really recall much from that night. She felt like she was sinking into clouds as she settled into his bed. She pulled the furs up underneath her chin and sighed... she was exhausted.

      Loki turned, walked over to the bed, and sat on the edge. He intertwined his fingers with hers. She looked at him and couldn't believe she was here, in a god's bed... feeling what she was feeling. She sat up, letting the fur blankets fall and put her lips to his. Her fingers ran through his long black hair, and lightly down his chest making Loki shudder. His jaw clenched, and he grabbed Sigyn's hand, pulling it to his lips. He didn't know how much longer he could go on like this. She was driving him crazy, his body was alive and hot with lust... but he was also feeling something that he had never truly felt... love.

      He laid her back down, and pulled the fur back up to her chin. "Get some sleep, dear Sigyn. Tomorrow is a new day..."

[winstonhcomedy]

“Dope A-F” - 2/1-2/2- “Country Clubs and Meadery Fun”

Five super ridiculously fun sets spread across four shows this past weekend. Kind of a blast. Got to do some fun shows with some dope people. What more can you ask for from comedy. So let’s hop right into it my sweet sweet laydees!

2/1

Friday after work I headed immediately to my first show. I am booked to headline at Haley’s Honey Meadery in Hopewell VA. This is the second show they’ve done there. It is hosted and ru n by Sarah Pip Rose. A soft-spoken and super nice comedian. Her shows are always fun, and usually in pretty unique locations. Her and I had talked beforehand about what kind of show she wanted. She told me there is no content restrictions, but she prefers a more pg-13 show so I prepare a set that respects that.

I get there and Haley’s is a super dope spot. It is a super cool room. It is long and narrow with a bar on the side. They have a food truck outside, and also offer their own menu. There are a few people here when I arrive. Mostly older and white.

I go to the back of the room and hang with Mike Engle. He is one of the featuring comics on the show. We talk about his day job, upcoming shows, and his recent tour with his band The Alex Jonestown Massacre. A pop-punk band from RVA featuring three comedians. Dope band. Check them out.

Mu Cuzzo shows up dressed to the nines in a jacket and hat combination. He is the other comic featuring. He is also going first because he has to get back to RVA for the WRIR comedy showcase. We hangout, they get some drinks, we all order a little bit of food, All in all it is a good hang before the show starts.

Apparently the month before the show was completely packed out. They had people lined up all the way to the back. Unfortunately that was not the case this time. We had an intimate crowd of about 20 people not counting the staff. Which honestly isn’t awful. It is such a cool and dope room I am still excited with the prospect of hopefully a pretty fun show.

Sarah went up first and had a pretty good set. She got everyone to pay attention even though they were all spread out. She got some good laughs and really set the table nicely for the rest of the show. After her Mu went up. Mu has really improved over the last year or so of doing comedy. He is a great performer whose joke writing is catching up to his energy on stage (which is a good thing, this is the same track I was on when I started), He knows how to sell his jokes and connect with the audience. He has a pretty good set. He said it was the longest set he has done so far, and he did a good job weaving in and out of his material and didn’t have to check notes. All in all a strong set for the venue.

Then Mike went up. I don’t know if it was how he was holding his microphone or if the PA got messed up, but it was really hard to hear him. It sounded like the microphone was in his mouth. I know a lot of people were struggling to pick up what he was laying down. I think Mike is a funny dude, and he has some of my favorite jokes in the scene. This was an older crowd, and that is definitely a tougher sell for Mike’s act. He did his time, and delivered his material. Definitely respect that, and I think the set would have gone better if people could have heard him more clearly.

After he gets off stage. A group of people leave, because they are heading over to the Beacon Theatre for the Eagles cover band. Cover band’s will always beat free comedy. In the hierarchy of live entertainment the Eagle’s will always crush credit less comedians.

I get brought up on stage and start my act. I make sure the PA sounds good and go into my material. I am doing ok honestly. Like I am not killing, but I am supposed to do at least 30 and doing ok for 30 minutes is a living hell. After about 5 minutes I start doing crowd work. I am not doing anything crazy. I just start asking questions about what a meadery is. I talk about how nice the bathroom is. I am starting to build some momentum. A dude comes in a little into my set and I ask what he does. He says porn. This gets a pretty big laugh because of how unexpected it is. He forced my hand. I am headlining and honestly at this point do not care how dirty my set is going to be. I want to give this audience what they want, and I do not want to bomb. So I proceed to do 40 minutes of crowd work.

We talked about midget porn for about 15 minutes, and then I went around the room just riffing on what people are into sexually. The owner Haley is absolutely loving it. I talk to her and her husband. I also talk to her parents who were in the front row (Nancy and Bob). Nancy loved it. I was tying crowd work back to other members of the crowd. I made sure to interact with everyone who was there. I am absolutely killing for the 40 minutes. Everything is working, and it is unique and fun. One guy was a programmer of robots with drill bits, and I riffed about fashioning dildos to the machine. I tied that back to Nancy. I talked to a guy in the back who said he no longer masturbated because his wife forbid it. His wife was there so we went back and forth. Legit there is too much insanity in the 40 minutes to remember it all without listening again.

I’d give this set an A-. My material didn’t work, but I absolutely slaughtered. I get so much anxiety about comedy that when I haven’t done crowd work for this long in a while I worry I have forgotten how to do it. So it is nice to flex that muscle. After the show everyone came up to me and talked about how much fun they had. This is an awesome room. Honestly it is so cool that Hopewell has this meadery. I’d recommend this show/venue to anyone. The food and mead were great. The staff were super friendly, and I legit can not wait to come back.

After this I jetted over to do my second set at Wabi Sabi in Petersburg. This is one of the best/toughest rooms around. You really have to work for it, but when they are on board with you it is one hell of a ride.

Jason Klingman was hosting as usual and we had a dope lineup. We had Nick Deez (doing his first set at Wabi), Benjie Saunders (who was coming back from a extended break from standup), Dylan Vattelana, Anthony Thompson, Kenny Wingle, and myself.

The hang is great, everybody is laughing and joking around. The crowd looks dope, and the energy is good. We are all ready to get this thing started. Klingman goes up first and has a super good hosting set. He was feeling himself and the audience was vibing from the beginning.  The energy kept building and it just felt like it was going to be an amazing show.

Nick and I’s buddy Bryan Williams showed up to support us. Nick is up next. He starts out super strong. His first 5 minutes his jokes are hitting super hard. The second half the energy changed. I had walked out of the room for a minute to write my set down, and when I came back it just felt different. He was still doing well, but he was having to work for it.

After him was Benjie. You could tell he was rusty. He hadn’t been up in a while and it showed. He was having a difficult time capturing the audiences attention. There were four birthday’s being celebrated and people were pretty intoxicated. By the time he got off stage the energy was just depleted. It was insane that this was the same audience as Klingman’s set. It didn’t feel that way. It felt like they had all realized they hated comedy.

I go up next. As I get on stage a table of 8 or 9 people were putting their coats on and getting ready to leave. I wasn’t gong to let that happen. I was still riding the confidence and the high from the first set of the night. I jumped right into crowd work. It was one lady’s birthday in the group so I talked to her. I busted her balls and started talking to her about dating. This is going well and some of the people who had walked out came back in. I start ridding back and forth between the two sides. The momentum starts to build and the laughter comes back. I’m working my ass off to get the energy right. As I am finishing up a heckler comes in. I don’t really have time to deal with it, but I am definitely happy with the set. I’d give it a B.

After me that table leaves anyway, and the energy goes back to normal. Dylan tried to do his material, but the audience was being wack and not giving his jokes the attention they deserved. He eventually answered the phone for a drunk woman and talked to her boss. I really hope he got her fired. She was awful.

Anthony was up next and he went into his act as well. Another set full of dope jokes, but the crowd was just being super weird. I don’t know what was up. I really think they were all just super hammered. Wingle went up last to his new walk up song. He did some crowd work and it felt like a high school reunion because some lady kept talking to him. I think they knew each other but I could’t make it out. It ended up just turning into a birthday party for one lady. They brought out a damn cake and singing. Wingle handled it like a pro, but it was one of the weirder shows I’ve seen.

During the show I was just so ecstatic about my two sets I was jamming food in my mouth. In the way of Calimari and homemade Oreo cheesecake. The shit was so good. I can’t wait to get booked there again so I can have that exact meal.

We all went back up at the end to do Sex With Me is Like. Which is one of my least favorite things to do. I don’t know it’s just not for me. I am so fearful of saying something unfunny that I end up saying nothing. I get in my own head and I have to get over that. Everybody else had great lines and were doing super well. I just kind of sat back and let it happen.

We all hung out for a bit at Wabi after the show before I had to head home. All in all it was a super fun night. Even with the weird show at Wabi. I had a blast.

2/2

Now I was stoked because today was going to be a doozie. I had been booked by the DC Improv to host for Tim Dillon (Netflix, Comedy Central) at the Bethesda Country Club in Bethesda MD. I was exhausted from the night before so I slept in for a bit, before meeting up with some friends to watch the VT vs NC State basketball game at BWW. After this I took a super long nap and then headed to Fairfax to meet Chris.

I get there and meet up with Chris/Paige/TJ at Tj’s place. We chill for a bit before all going our separate ways. Chris and I head to Bethesda. We get to the country club and it is crazy nice. Everyone is super kind to us and we help ourselves to the buffet before the show.

The food was ridiculously good. The buffet had chicken, filet mignon, salmon, lamb chops, sushi, and so much more dope stuff. It was an open bar for the comics. Chris and I pack our plates and then go pig out. 

Tim Dillon gets there and he is a nice dude. He talks to us and jokes around so it is actually pretty fun. He does have a tendency to ask us questions just to set up us asking him the same question so he could brag. I could just be projecting, but it just felt like ehe was asking us what we were going to do for the Super Bowl so he could tell us his dope plans. Still incredibly nice and funny guy,. He hung with us and he didn’t have to. I am used to some headliners not wanting to hang out so this was dope.

The show starts and I go up and have a pretty good set. Nothing too wild or crazy, but I was definitely doing well. I’d give it a solid B for the first set. I didn’t do a ton of crowd work and I lost them on a KKK joke (they said they were a diverse crowd, but they were white as hell). I got them back in the end and got an applause break to end my set.  

I bring up Naomi Karavani and she has a fine set. They’re digging her stuff and she ended strong. This show is really starting to roll. Then Chris goes up and he absolutely murders. He just owns the stage. Honestly if there wasn’t an intermission after him I think he would have kind of buried Tim Dillon. Everything he does works, and even when it doesn’t kill the way he wants it to he is able to get a huge applause by telling the audience they’re wrong. He also tires this joke that he and I riffed I the car and it absolutely murdered. It was so dope to see him have a killer set. 

They then have a ten minute intermission so people can go to the bathroom. After the intermission I go back up and do a second set. I use my set to get people to sit down, and then do a little crowd work. I know this set is just to get people ready to see Tim. I do a couple quick jokes about teaching and end on a huge laugh. I give this set a B as well. I bring Tim up and he gets right to work. I decide to go hang with Chris and Naomi for a bit.

We are eating, and talking shit. Going over different types of body shaming. What is and is not ok. It all in all is a great hang. Then we all head back to watch the last fifteen minutes of Tim’s set. He is doing well, but he isn’t murdering the way he was earlier. Maybe they were a little tired I don’t know. He switches to crowd work and it starts to destroy. He ends on a super huge laugh. 

We all say goodbye and thank everybody involved. We all get in Chris’ Prius and drive to Big Hunt for the late night open mic. We get there and meet up with Paige. There are a bunch of other comics there hanging out. The more I go up to DC the more comfortable I get. I love talking and hanging with these people.  Chris goes up fifth and has a killer set again. He had me record his Governor Northram bit and it kills again. A really good video. 

I go up ninth and have a hot one. I am ridiculously proud of the set I had. I’d give it an A-. It feels like the jokes I did are pretty much done. The audience was super into it, and this weekends sets are a stark contrast to the three bombs in a row I had earlier in the week. I am still working on understanding that bombing is part of the process. It’s a shit part of the process, but it’s part of it nonetheless. 

That’s it laydees. What a fun hot weekend. I took Sunday off to be with family and watch football. I felt like I earned it. I love comedy again, and am feeling good. At least until my next breakdown. Thanks for reading and I’ll see you sweeties soon! xoxo

[tastesoftamriel]

Emergency trip to Riften! (A long tale by Talviel)

[This is my first ever fanfic and I hope you guys enjoy it and let me know what you think! I haven’t done any creative writing in at least 2-3 years so apologies if it sounds a bit clunky. Anyway, happy reading!]

[EDIT! Due to the timeline of my new fics I have written, please note that this takes place on Tirdas, 19th of Sun’s Dawn, 4E 207. Sorry if this is a bit confusing but I promise this slots into a chapter that you’ll see in about four weeks!]

I was in Bruma for a week teaching a Hammerfell-style cooking class when a messenger delivered a letter that my mother was ill. Thankfully Bruma is just on the border of Skyrim so I got on my horse and set off straight away.

When I finally arrived in Riften, I was relieved to discover my father had contacted a healer to work on my mother. It turned out she had contracted rockjoint, because apparently she was out in the woods picking mushrooms when a wolf bit her! Thankfully she killed the wolf and suffered no serious injuries otherwise, but needless to say my father and I were peeved she didn’t say anything sooner (damn Imperials and their pride). The good news is that the bite is healing nicely and the worst of the rockjoint should be gone within a week or so, optimistically.

With that taken care of, I decided to wander around town a bit. The first stop was The Bee and Barb. Keerava and I were overjoyed to see each other as I hadn’t been home in over two years. Luckily it was early afternoon, so aside from the lunch regulars (who were surprised to see me), the inn was quiet and we got to spend a few hours exchanging news and gossip. We shared a flagon of mead with Talen-jei (who really only ever tolerated my presence, but was pleasant enough to me), and I was on my way again.

I was strolling through the marketplace when I heard a very familiar “Lass!”. I turned bright red, because of course it was none other than my ex-boss from the Guild, Brynjolf, running yet another scam. He pulled me aside and whispered that his new recruit had never turned up for the heist, so now he was stuck awkwardly selling skeever repellant when some pockets needed picking.

What a moral dilemma. I had promised I’d left my life of crime behind me, but deep down I’ve always been loyal to the Guild, and especially Brynjolf, who had always treated me with nothing but kindness and respect, even after I resigned. It doesn’t help that I’ve been in love with him since I first laid eyes on him either.

So what’s a woman to do? I was dressed as an innocent traveller, so nobody would suspect me. In a matter of minutes, my skilled fingers had lifted two hefty pouches of gold, several pieces of fine jewellery and amulets, a few potions…and a sweetroll (old habits die hard). I tucked my prizes into my worn travel sack and headed down to the cistern to unload the cargo.

Whoever wasn’t on a job basically screeched when they saw me. I was the Guild’s youngest recruit when they picked me up (I was just 16 at the time), and they were astounded to see me as a well-travelled young woman. In fact, I was only 17 during the plight of Alduin and worked with Brynjolf and Karliah to bring the corrupt former head of the Guild, Mercer Frey, down. I exchanged hugs with Sapphire, Rune, Thrynn, and Cynric, the old timers. They introduced me to a fair number of new faces, then hauled me off to The Ragged Flagon.

Vex, Delvin, Tonilia, and Vekel nearly fell off their seats when they saw me. Of course, Vex and Delvin immediately tried to bribe me with jobs, thinking I’d returned for good. The disappointment on their faces when I explained why I was back in Riften made me feel so guilty I almost wished I was back in the Guild. “Well the least you could do then, o cultured one, is to cook us all dinner and save me the effort!” Vekel bellowed. Now that I could happily do.

Apparently the Guild was doing brilliantly. They had a total of 35 members now, and 20 were in Riften at the moment. I scratched my head, wondering how I could pull off a feast at such short notice, but I’d been put in worse situations (one trip to Whiterun had me yanked into the Jarl’s kitchen by two very scared chefs who had apparently been notified two hours before that dignitaries were arriving and a feast for 30 was needed). So I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.

Brynjolf came back to see what I had found as I was in the middle of mincing garlic. I gestured to my travel sack, not wanting to get my fragrant hands over everything. He seemed pleased with the loot, but puzzled by the sweetroll. “Is this yours, lass?” He asked. When I blushingly said it was for him, he laughed and gave me a hug, thanking me for the gesture. I nearly fainted right then and there.

Three hours later, I’d accomplished it. A hearty meal for 20, comprised of rabbit millet pilaf, West Weald corn chowder, a Redguard venison pie, and the famous Jerall View Inn carrot cake (one must never omit dessert from a meal!). Vekel rolled out a barrel each of beer and mead, and enough wine to get a village drunk for a week. Sapphire went to round up the stragglers, and soon we were all sitting at The Flagon digging in. I brought news of the world, and the Guild happily told me of the best jobs they’d had since I was gone.

As the night wore on and the booze flowed freely, slowly the Guild members disappeared back to the cistern with full bellies and happy hearts. By two, the only ones left at The Flagon were me, Brynjolf, and Vekel, who had promised to clean up. Brynjolf and I had broken out the bottles of sujamma and matze I’d been hoarding since my last trip to Raven Rock, and were playing “Never have I ever”. Well, we learned a lot of things about each other that night. Drunk and laughing, I leaned my head on Brynjolf’s shoulder and he stroked my hair affectionately. “We’ve missed you, lass.” He said. “I’ve missed you.”

I almost startled myself sober. “You…have?” I stuttered, unable to believe my ears. “Yup.” He said. “You were one of our finest recruits, just…so young. You’ve grown into a fine woman, lass, and even though you’re no longer running with the Guild, I’m proud of what you’ve accomplished. You’re the pride of Riften, in case nobody’s mentioned it yet.”

Vekel cleared his throat, having clearly been eavesdropping on our conversation and seeing where it was heading, even though blockhead me was too drunk to figure it out yet. “Well, you two have a nice night, morning, whatever. I’m off to bed.” He declared loudly, before disappearing home.

I stood up, wobbling. “He’s got a point, it’s getting late. I should probably head back to my parents.” I mumbled. Brynjolf stood up to steady me, his hands unusually tight around my waist. “You needn’t go, lass. Riftweald Manor is still ours, where we store our extra things. Grab a bottle of wine, and let’s go, better than waking everyone in the cistern up.” I grabbed a bottle of Alto wine from the counter. “You know me far too well, Brynjolf.” I giggled, leaning on him for support as we stumbled our way to the manor.

When we got in at last (Brynjolf had left the key behind so we drunkenly had to pick the lock), he gesticulated around, showing me what the Guild had done with the place since I’d been gone. The place was lavish, decorated with the best finds from certain jobs. Maps adorned the walls, pinned with the locations of targets. Large empty chests were everywhere, ready to be filled and brought down to the vault. It was certainly much nicer than when Mercer had left it to rot.

Brynjolf and I sat cross legged on the biggest bed we could find, leaning comfortably on the soft pillows and passing the bottle of wine between us. We talked about nothing in particular, breaking out in fits of laughter for no reason. Even while being drunker than Brenuin in Whiterun, I was both happy and astounded to see the personal side of Brynjolf I had never seen while working for him.

I said something to him, I don’t remember what, and he swatted me over the head with a pillow, and the remnants of the bottle of wine went flying across the room. “Oi, what is this, the Dark Brotherhood?” I cackled. “You just killed the wine!” “Fuck the wine, fight me you wench!” Brynjolf hollered, hitting me over the head again with the pillow. “Wench? WENCH? Well I never!” I shouted back, grabbing another pillow and whacking him with it. Soon there were feathers everywhere and we were cackling like hagravens. He pulled my hair and I pulled his. Soon we were tumbling across the bed, flailing about and feebly slapping at each other.

Then the unexpected happened. Well, unexpected to me anyway; as I mentioned before I am a blockhead. He grabbed my head and kissed me, hard. Startled, I pulled back. “Brynjolf, what are you doing?“ I stuttered, unable to believe what had just happened. “What I always should have done, lass. Well, since you were a little older, anyway.” I laughed, and leaned in. “I can’t believe it. I’ve been in love with you since I first saw you.” “I wouldn’t call this love, lass, but let’s just enjoy tonight, while you’re still here.”

If you’ve made it this far, dear reader, I’m sure I don’t need to elaborate on the rest. Needless to say, I stumbled back to my parents’ house sometime the next afternoon with my clothes in disarray, while Brynjolf made his unsteady way back to the cistern. When I got to the house, I was relieved to see my mother was asleep and resting. My father, on the other hand, was sitting at the dining table tinkering with something. He grinned at me widely. “So, the classic Nordic walk of shame. Glad to see you got that from me at least.” He laughed. I groaned and fell into my bed, still thinking about the surreal night before.