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rise-my-angel · 9 months

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Heart of the Great Wolf

31 - Light in the Darkest Storms

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 19.5k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, past character death, flashbacks, discussion of virginity, references to past rape, smut, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, breeding kink

Notes: Holidays are over so we will go back to the regular posting schedule from now on. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Winter Town had scarcely ever been meaningfully populated in your time outside of war. Many who worked in the castle walls of Winterfell would find homes there but the town itself was not needed much when it had been the warmth of summer. But the closer you got the more you could see as the people all found settlement rivalling that of White Harbour or Barrowton, should you wager a guess you would say the more the people gathered it would be perhaps a fortnight or twice that before some fifteen thousand Northerns made home.

Only this time, it would be a King in the North to which the Northerners were gathering to settle close by in the winds. But whereas Jon Snow fit in this world without a shadow of a doubt, it was those echos of doubt shadowing over looks certain people were giving you. More then normal now, and many with a sense of unease.

The display on the journey home had rattled your own people and now they looked at their dead Queen as if her mind had snapped and were waiting for the rest of it to show it’s ugly head. But you didn’t know what to say to them to quell such concern, you had barley accomplished enough of it to bring Jon back down to something calm. He hadn’t been since that night, his eyes on you were not that of the same disturb as the people, but they watched you dark and close all the same.

Your horse riding beside his and constantly you tried to pretend as if you couldn’t feel his gaze, but in truth if you turned to look behind you, many gazes would’ve suddenly turned away abruptly. At least Jon would hold it with the same look.

Narrowed eyes with something protective behind them that he wasn’t sure how to express, not with how you’ve been.

When he had brought you back to your quarters on the ship, he had sat you on the edge of the bed, crouching in front of you with his hands keeping you steady on your upper arms. Asking you what happened, but you only stammered. “I’m- I don’t even remember getting out of bed, never had a dream like that..” You could only hear Hazzea’s screams that erupted into nothing as it was charred away along with the rest leaving nothing but black bones to haunt you. Or the look in the eyes of that dragon which was terrifying as it was angering.

It looked to the girl with nothing but a need to kill and then flew off, but how could you tell him that without sounding like only a dream? It must have been, but you didn’t feel like it. Your dreams varied from ominous to vivid and confusing but they never made you feel as if you were standing in the real world. It felt as real in that temple as it did when you turned around to find yourself back on the ship.

Cupping the sides of your cheeks, you hated how Jon’s face had been twisted into something just as upset as you felt on the inside. Grey eyes still tinted with a red behind them as your hands curled into your palms to keep them from shaking. His thumb running over your cheek as his voice was a bit breathless in his own worry, “Darling this wasn’t just some dream, I’ve never heard you scream like that..” Looking over your just as unsure state, Jon tried to tilt your face down to meet his eyes as they drifted away. “You weren’t -do you even know what language you were speaking?”

Your answer however, was specific. Too specific to the point it took Jon entirely off guard as his head jolted back a small bit. But it also dawned on you as you once more fell from his gaze, how specific that answer came in an instant.

It was the first flag that made you both feel uncomfortable over the matter, you had dreamt and spoke in a language you knew nothing of despite recognizing it coming from your mouth. “Do you know what you were saying?”

Distantly you nodded a yes, you could see everything in that temple clear as Jon was now. The enormity of a foreign culture you were ignorant to, the languages far from Westerosi common, the guards, the Queen at the very top and the two knights beside her. It was not the misting blurs of a dream world as you would recall. It was only half a story, one that was rambling as your mind still felt attached and Jon hardly could grasp how such a dream linked to what he saw.

Whispers of a Targaryean with three dragons and on the journey home you have a violent dream of dragons burning a child alive, Jon thought it could be a coincidence, but he felt doubt over it.

You had hardly slept since then, spending much of the nights out against the side of the ship looking out to the blackness over the night waters. One night he would convince you to try and sleep, the next you wouldn’t budge. It was as if you feared sleeping in chance of another dream, and perhaps you did.

Now as the sights of Winterfell came close as you all rode up, Jon beside you looked somehow like every other Northerner, and yet with the air of a King. Warm with the dark fur around his shoulders once more made him look intimidating but not with such in eyes. Grey eyes wide and bright, looking at his people with more then a humble nature, still finding it odd in his mind, that they would bow and kneel to him as “your grace”, as he nodded and acknowledged many of them.

You could only hope you didn’t look as lost and exhausted as you felt, tired of looking weak and pathetic at Jon’s side. The Queen who was losing her mind in the eyes of his people. A shame on his family that should be considered.

It had been busy the moment the gates of Winterfell rose up, neither you nor Jon bothering with much decorum. Things needed to be done and you wanted little time to spend watching people watch you. A decent number of resources on their way but you had to trust in others to covey details to the smiths on what exactly they were looking at. Groups finding purpose here and elsewhere as men around all worked to attend to the King in the North’s return but as you climbed from your own horse, your hands stayed attached to the saddle. Glancing around as whispers found their way in your mind, tingling against your skin as each flicker of eyes towards you spoke of judgment.

As one of the stable boys took the liberty of guiding your horse away you stood in the clearing feeling lost. Gloved hands now at your sides tensing and retensing as the whispers dulled to the increasing loudness of your beating hard in your ears, until it all came to a heart stopping end as Selyse came to your side. Eyes narrow and sharp as she quietly called your name, you could still feel your heart in your chest as you looked at her, but with a silence on your tongue waiting for her to speak first.

Glancing to the side before coming a step more to your front, “Maybe it is best if we bring you inside for now.” It might have been concern on her, but it was hard to see and every single even minor look in your direction made the whispering grow deafening. As if only a girl, you swallowed before nodding saying no words.

It was as Selyse shared a look across the way to Ser Davos, did the man’s attention diverting grab Jon’s eyes. Noticing your mother place a hand at your back and guide you inside without a word to anyone.

She knew her way around the castle well enough by that point, a fortnight here after your departure to White Harbour and she knew when places were busy and when not. It also, was the perfect time to bring you into the more quiet side of the kitchens to sit you down. Requesting a tea from one of the ladies there as she sat down at a small circular table just slightly to the side to look at you. A grown woman you were, but you knew your mother was looking at you and could replace it with the image of a young Shireen having a bad day in need of quiet away from others.

Not much of a mother to you in a long time, but she had been for Shireen’s entire life and for now that would have to do. Her voice was thankfully low in nature as was yours, “I haven’t seen you that nervous in a crowd since you were a girl.”

Quietly thanking the woman who placed a warm mug in front of you, it was brought just enough to your lips to blow ever so slightly at the steam before wagering a sip. Too hot to taste still, but the heat warmed your blood and sent out the remaining shivers of cold from you. Having another before slowly beginning to take off the cloak around your shoulders and let it drape over the back of your seat as did your mother. Hands still in gloves but felt the heat as they both cupped the side of your mug, “You should have seen me at my wedding. I was so nervous I wasn’t sure I was going to even make it to the Weirwood before passing out.”

Hardly letting out a chuckle, Selyse watched you for another quiet moment. “Celebrations were never quite a tradition in our family.” You knew she wished to ask, but instead found other things to occupy her voice that eased you into things. “The first time you came home from the North, you had asked your father and I, if feasts were supposed to be loud and chaotic. I remember not knowing if you were disappointed we never had ones such as that or not.”

You mustered half a smile, “Likely a bit of both.” She rose an eyebrow in question as you took another sip, “I enjoyed watching the others have such a good time, but I was worried you and father would be mad at me if I participated. Was worried about a lot of things from that first visit, thought if you both knew I’d never be allowed to return.”

Tilting her head in slight amusement with a lighter air on her tongue, “That assumption clearly did not work out in that manner.” Nodding at her, your eyes felt distant. Trying to not see the stares and hear the whispers and you felt your chest tighten again. Leaning forward to you, she lowered her tone with a murmur of your name. “Is there nothing more you can say of that night?”

Hand stopping as it was reaching the liquid to your lips, you sighed and let it drop back down. If the servers milling about were listening, they did a very good job at not showing it. “I told you, I wasn’t even aware I had gotten out of bed, I know even less then what they all saw.” It was silent for a second before you looked down at the table away from her, “It felt as if everyone was speaking about me out there, like everyone was watching and whispering about what happened.”

“No one was doing such a-”

Your tone almost snapped, but it reigned in almost as soon as you opened your mouth. “They were, we both know they were. Everyone had been. I have one nightmare and now my own people look at me as if I’ve lost my mind.”

Your mother was quicker then you it seemed, “You look at me as if I’ve lost mine some days.”

Narrowing your brows for a moment, you relented just as fast in acceptance. “You are following a belief, a faith. I had a dream that made me walk and scream in my sleep. Two very different kinds of insanity, I would say.” Your nails tapped at the mug as your eyes slipped closed as long as you inhaled deeply. “I’ve hardly slept since that night. As if I know falling asleep one night I will have another dream just like it, but maybe this time I’ll do worse then scream.”

Both knowing the answer to it, she put the suggestion forth regardless. “I can speak to Maester Wolkan, essence of nightshade could help you sleep-”

Your tone was sharp as was your eyes, “I’m not about to begin relying on a few drops of poison every night just so I don’t have scary nightmares, mother. Besides, it wouldn’t help how little I’ve eaten either.” All you could see was the bones, those black, charred bones of Hazzea as clear as day and then you’d hear her fading scream and all appetite would leave you. Nothing felt appetizing when such senses invaded your mind.

Leaning into the quiet, only sounds around that of shuffling, bubbling and whatever they were preparing behind you, your mother was more stern then before. “You barley take care of yourself as it is. Always running yourself ragged trying to do everything, you will be able to do that even less if you have no food or sleep in your body.” Trying not to roll your eyes, knowing she was only stating the honest truth. “Dying once has not made you immune from starvation.”

Sighing deeply, you knew she meant well. Taking food for granted was not something she nor your father were uncaring with. “Plenty of books in Winterfell, could always made soup if I let things get that dire.”

The dropping look in Selyse’s face was one you knew she had given Shireen too many times when she got too clever for her own good. “I am trying to get you to care of your well being. Strange events have followed you since your death and they are only getting stranger. You need to be looking out of more then only other people now. Especially if-”

Cutting her off sternly, you didn’t want to hear about this. Not now. It hadn’t been brought up since before that dream and you were beginning to feel a creeping voice in your mind that had been gone since the months leaving Castle Black. Ones that you were too much of a burden, too much of a problem again.

Jon knocks down one problem with you, and another takes it’s place in a matter of days. You should have stayed on Dragonstone with your father, at least you wouldn’t be in Jon’s way thousands of miles apart. Maybe if you got up and left right now, everyone would be too busy to notice you disappear.

It choked your throat and down to your lungs in an ill sensation at the anxiety of, would Jon secretly be grateful once you were gone? He was too kind to tell you to leave his life, he always was. Always placated your burdens as if they didn’t weigh him down horribly. Once afraid you would be dragging Robb into a miserable life married to you, but it seemed he was the wrong wolf you were the constant of issues for.

Silence painful before you sighed, not a sign of strength holding your resolve left in your eyes. “You and father don’t have to worry about this sort of thing.” Softening in your eyes, was an apologetic sorrow that was bright for any to see. “You haven’t had to wake up every single day for months, worrying you are getting in his way. Standing between him and real happiness because you don’t know how else to contain how you feel. I was worried in Castle Black I was ruining his life and now it feels like I’m back to doing just that. What do I even offer him? What as a Queen do I even bring to his cause he could not do himself, better?”

Selyse didn’t have an answer to that, because you did not want one. It was a spiral that begged for others to toss you away in worth or use as you spent a year in a new life being tortured with. More for you had changed in those months then many encountered in a single lifetime.

It hadn’t been sitting there to pressure you, it was almost hidden away so any who wandered in might not have spotted it, but you did. You saw it almost right away and the second you traced your fingers over the fabric you found yourself sitting back on the edge of the bed. Material in hands as you ran over the details. It was clearly made to fit you with detailed accuracy.

Had it been meant as something in your face, likely there would’ve just been people there already to put you in it. Instead it sat alone, in the quiet room for you to contemplate. It would be your choice this time, both of you and somehow that felt more strange then it did the first time. Neither you nor Robb had a say in it, and it was to happen at the end of what turned out to be the start of a nightmare that had yet to end.

Not much of the ceremony did you recall. Were your life to be staked on it you’d have no way of saving yourself if the only rescue was to recite the words you spoke. Did you even breathe? You were a blur walking towards the Weirwood and part of having no choice in the matter made that memory easier to look back on then the willing one you had now.

Women like you weren’t supposed to choose. It wasn’t how it worked, you never grew up expecting you’d have a say in it. The way Cersei Lannister made it sound like you’d be sold off like some broodmare and perhaps for many it was as such. You were lucky it was Robb, more lucky then most highborn women ever would get. But here you were with a choice of freedom and that was more difficult to do.

Coming to terms with having love after Robb was growing a bit better, more time spent considering the truth that he would not want you to be miserable after him, but marriage? Forsaking the name he shared with you and taking that of his brother? Jon came first, but Robb was never less then he was.

It was all so complicated in your mind.

Still now, you could see the hateful eyes in Catelyn, how if you made this choice she would look down at you forever as something more horrid of a word then you’d prefer to think coming from her. A woman who parts of your life acted as a mother, was your mother by marriage in war for three years and ended that life on nothing but good terms. If you chose to do this, she would hate you for eternity.

“I can't tell if you hate it or not.”

Head snapping up, only then realizing you hadn’t even heard Jon enter, or the door close behind him either. Your brows narrowed in question before he gestured down to the material in your hands, an easy breath coming out close to something of a laugh as you shook your head. “On the contrary, it’s eeiry how well you knew what to tell them to make.”

Stepping closer, Jon gave half a smile. His voice low and somewhat quiet as he sat next to you, but a decent foot of space between his body and yours was almost staggering in the quiet. “Almost like I’ve known you most of my life.”

A more genuine grin came about you, looking up to not anything of significance on the stone wall ahead as your tone fell in an amusing monotone. “My father’s known me my whole life and he couldn’t even tell you if I have a favourite food of any kind.”

The lightness in Jon’s voice had you without notice, forming an easy grin on your face even if it didn’t quite match the soft but combating glaze over your eyes. “Easy, you love peppercrab stew, stuffed clams, anything that comes from the sea.”

Muttering a playful in mocking return, “Almost as if I grew up on an island.”

Jon ignored your jest, “And even though you claim you don’t like sweet desserts, you would live off of blueberry tarts if it was possible.” That time he caught the playfully offended look in your eye at being called out, a laugh easier on his lips then it came huffing from yours. “I also know you hate Dornish wine because every highborn in King’s Landing drinks it by the barrel, and that you think serving pigeon pie at weddings is disgusting.”

Your fingertips were tracing along the ornately stitched design, noticing it was almost a seamless blend of what looked like carvings of antlers as they trickled down into outlines of a wolf only noticeable up this close. None but you or him would even be near enough to make out such details but you knew they were intentional. “You would too if you were saw how many dead and bloodied pigeons end up inside those things before they’re cut open.”

Leaning back a bit, his palms braced more against the fur along his bed as Jon kept his eyes on nowhere but you. “Good thing I didn't tell them to make it.” Your head rose up a bit, hands stopping in motion as you looked to nothing once more hesitant in your shoulders, as Jon leaned forward again this time a bit closer as his voice rasped more beside you. “We don’t have to do anything, we can go back out there and just let our people enjoy a good night, but I need you to tell me if you want this or not.”

You could hear Robb clear as day, voice warm and soothing behind you as his hands ran along your arms before giving yourself over to him.

“If you don’t want this, I need you to tell me. We don’t have to do anything, but you need to be honest with me about it.”

He had given you the exact same out, and you didn’t take it then and it ended better then you could’ve imagined for the time you and Robb had with each other. Would taking that opportunity from Jon now be nothing but a regret? Or was otherwise being too selfish?

“Before I married him, I told Robb I was worried he would be trapped in a miserable marriage being with me. But we didn’t get a choice, we had to do it no matter what. But this time, if you marry me, it’ll be my fault if you end up hating your life.” Looking back up to meet his eyes, Jon was closer then before and instead of even entertaining such an idea, he cupped both sides of your face, pulling you up to meet his lips in a gentle kiss.

Your hands dropping the material into your lap as your hands reached up to press against his chest with your palms flat. It was soft, not teasing but keeping you just on the edge of needy as he would pull away just long enough that you wanted to whine and chase his lips, returning back to you as one of his hands danced back to run his fingers through your hair.

Pressing another innocent one, Jon then pulled back only enough that he could look you in the eye as yours slowly opened again. “You make me happy, and I make you happy. That’s enough. But we don’t have to do this-”

Shaking your head, heart almost so light it could fly from your chest and be lost to the skies hiding above the stone walls. Your hands ran up to gently wind around the back of his neck as you leaned up to kiss him, even a more gentle one then before. Almost just a tender press of lips before you pulled back. “I do, I- I just, my head is so confusing how it feels. One moment I’m sure as any has ever been that I want to be with you, and the next I’m terrified I’m wasting your life and you’ll hate me for it.”

Tracing his nose along the bridge of yours, Jon’s voice was a low rasp, “I suffer through a lot of things I hate, just add one more to the list is all.” If his intent was to make you fight between laughing and rolling your eyes he succeeded. Pulling away from him with a failing to hide grin fighting against him trying to yank you back.

“I only want you to be sure you won’t regret this down the line. Not easy to change your mind about a wife when you’re King.” His thumb running smoothly along your cheek and jaw, nudging your nose with his before capturing your lips once more. Only pulling back enough so your lips brushed his as you spoke, “You’re making it very hard to have a serious discussion, do you know that?”

Kissing you once more, Jon muttered against your lips, “Good.” Before capturing them again, one hand swiftly moving the fabric from your lap off to the side with a small toss blind, before moving you back, hands at your hips to all but toss you to the middle of his bed that time. Eagerly climbing up over you, meeting you with a sweeter kiss then was suitable for how much he just handled you like a rag doll. Both of his hands sat at the sides of your head, his voice deep as his grey eyes shined bright down at you. “Do you need me to prove how sure I am of marrying you? Because it also happens to be the same as showing you what my favourite dessert-

Calling his name indignantly, you laughed while feeling a fluster rise up your chest and into your cheeks instantly, Jon laughing brightly down at you. “Isn’t the man supposed to act a gentleman? Treat the innocent maiden with respect before a wedding?”

Jon trailed his lips easily down your neck, nothing more then greedy kisses to the sensitive skin as he spared you from him marking it with his teeth, muttering into your skin, “Innocent maidens as far as I’m aware, don’t normally let the man take her the way I do you, before the wedding.” He grinned again you tried to move out from under him, only making that embarrassment in you worse as he leaned more so you couldn’t hide from his words.

“If I ask any crew on our journey home if they think you have any innocence left for me to take from you, they'd say yes?” Running his lips down your neck to your collarbones, tone twisting to a deeper husk. “Or did everyone already hear how hard I took you at night? How much you tried to keep quiet but you just can’t stop yourself from sounding so beautiful when you cry out for me,”

Just as Jon shifted, one of his hands moving down along your dress as he reached the skirt already bunched up from his movements did you reach out and snatch his wrist. A playful mischief in his eyes as he pulled back to look down at you again, wanting to laugh at the narrowed look in yours. “Did you and Robb form a secret pact to endlessly embarrass me, because you’re both naturally quite good at it.”

Pushing up more to look down at you again, palms back braced against the furs of his bed, Jon smiled more softly this time. “No, but I do need you to tell me what you actually want to do. We can stay right here, I’ll strip you bare and taste you until the sun sets before I finally fuck you and everything can stay the same.” Leaning down to kiss you once, your hands running along his shoulders and one wrapping behind his neck gently as he looked back at you. “Or, we could do all of that, just a bit later after I’ve married you. But you have to be the one to decide. I’ve wanted to marry you since I was a boy. I made it this many years, I can wait as many more as you need.”

Rarely did this embarrassment extend passed only such a small amount of people, but as you heard the knock on your door did you know it was exactly that. You didn’t have much of other options, and asking felt like a child playing a game of fantasy, but it would be a sad display for you to do it alone. The guard outside the door calling to you, “Ser Davos here to see you, your grace.”

Inhaling deeply as your heart raced, you grabbed a long shall to partially wrap around you almost to hide what you were clearly wearing. “Send him in.”

Walking in, he could tell instantly what you were feeling. Having done mostly everything yourself, you preferred unlike last time, not to have handmaidens fuss over your hair and face, but it also meant you had spend some time now alone with your thoughts. “Your grace,”

Dropping any act of formality right away, your voice was higher in pitch as you also spoke probably too fast to sound proper. “Is it childish of me to ask if I look even halfway decent?”

Davos laughed however, walking in more with a comfort. “I’m not exactly a man with the best sense of dress, especially if you ask my wife, but you look beautiful.” Watching you sigh out as you almost defeated sat down on the edge of the bed, you found little comfort in what now was your former bedroom. Davos watched closely, finding a similar assessment Ned Stark had before him. “Of all the things to make you nervous and this is it.”

Your head made a move to fall into your hands, only to recall you at least had attempted to hide your lack of sleep with some kind of makeup. Leaving them flat on your lap as he sat next to you. “If it’s possible I think I’m even more nervous this time then the first, and this is when I know what I’m getting myself into.”

Looking you over closely, he asked the question on the tip of his tongue that he suspected you were just nervous enough to answer honestly. “Why not tell your father you might be getting married when we left Dragonstone?”

Wanting to shrug you knew that wasn’t the right response. Sighing deeply, your hands wrung together as your head stayed hanging down. “When I married Robb, the only family I had there was Robert. Renly wasn’t there, Shireen wasn’t, my father or mother..I was just shipped off to the North with no one there with me.” The last thing you wanted was to feel this choked up, forcing it down deep inside to not break you, even as it peeked through in a tiny crack of your voice. “Lord Stark gave me away last time. Raised me here almost half my life then, and even when I thought my own father was gone he was still the one I missed. The one I miss now. And I know that makes me sound horrible-”

“It doesn’t.” Looking up at him, your eyes stung red as your heart constricted trying not to feel like such a child at how much you wished Ned Stark was here this time too. Davos though, held not a single ounce of judgment in his face but a comfort only that of a father could give. “I admire your father in many ways, but I’m not blind to the difficult relationship you two have had your whole life. He’s a tough man to get close too, and Lord Stark was father enough to you that when it came down to it, you chose to return to your husband to try and save his life together when everyone else thought you’d go to Stannis.” Leaning forward more to ensure he had your proper attention, “If I can miss your baby sister like she was my own daughter, then you can miss Ned Stark when he was your father by marriage. It’s okay to miss the people we love.”

Nodding, you swallowed harsh to force down those heavy pains in your lungs to the depths. “My father sent me to marry Robb all alone, and then called him a usurper and a thief for leading his own people when they felt like they had nothing. Called me a traitor for siding with the husband he married me to.” Almost lost for a moment, in the memory when Robb had reassured you so gently that if fighting your father was what was to happen, he refused to let you shoulder it alone. “I know you barley knew him, Robb..but you know Jon..”

Davos reached an arm to wrap around your shoulder, glad on the inside at how easily you let him comfortingly pull you into his side. “I do, and I know he loves you more then anyone in this world could love someone. Was quite the grouch when you were in White Harbour because he didn’t know what to do with himself without you.” You huffed a laugh, but moved little else. “It doesn’t matter of these things come for us all in winter, because as long as Jon has you, he has a reason to keep going, to keep fighting back.” He was quiet, hoping you’d listen to him more then only hear him. “I know I’m not Ned Stark, but I’ve known you your whole life, so how about we get ready to give you away before your husband to be just comes looking for you himself.”

Laughing in his side, Davos joined as well. Giving you a moment to collect yourself, you breathed deeply as your heart slowed to something more manageable. “I know you’re only here because of my fathers order, but I’m still really grateful you are Ser Davos,” Your hand reached up to the necklace that you had yet to take off once. “And I know Shireen is too. She didn’t get to be at the last wedding, but thanks to you she will get a front seat this time.”

Pulling you up, you knew he could see the threat of tears wanting to fall and without even a doubt did he pull you into a hug. You couldn’t have known it, but you fell right into it just as Shireen had the day she learned of what happened to you. And he felt that pull of a father just as strongly. Before coming to the door, Davos stopped and turned to you, nodding down to the shall wrapped around you with a pointed stare.

Anxiously you gripped it tighter before exhaling deeply and undoing it. Nervously putting it down on the bed as the ivory dress now was allowed to breathe. “It’s almost unnerving how well Jon knows you, was trying to find the right way to describe it when he wrote back here from Dragonstone. Complaining that he knows what you looked like in his head but hadn’t the life of him to figure out how to describe it.”

You didn’t realize that Davos knew Jon had been thinking about this, and the surprise was shown in your eyes as your lips parted slightly with an unspoken question. “Ended up having to go ask your mother what he should be telling them,” Your eyes widened more as he laughed. You beginning the question of if she knew when he only answered, “Honestly, your grace, I think he was relying on you being a bit oblivious at times. By the time we left harbour you were likely the only one who didn’t know.”

Shaking your head, Davos in a clearly practised manner, held his arm out for you to loop around and you felt none of the awkwardness which your actual father would’ve provided you with. “Thank you for this, Davos, for everything.”

An easy smile came over his at the very faint one you were trying to hide on yours. “Nothing to thank me for, I’m here because I care, not because I was ordered to be. Your father would’ve kept me on Dragonstone had I not been the one to suggest coming back North with you to be his eyes and ears.”

The halls of the castle were cool in the fabric, but it had been made with something warm enough that you were certain at the least would not freeze you to death. “Why?”

“I believe in your father, but I’ve also spent over four years watching him make questionable choices. As far as he’s come, I’ve felt much more useful at you and Jon’s side. Better listeners you two are then Stannis Baratheon if anyone can believe that.” Your laughter echoed through the empty halls as you came to the doors leading to the main court yard, and from there it would be a nothing walk to the godswood where it was all waiting.

Standing by the doors, you inhaled shakily. “All our lives we never thought we’d be able to be together, and now I’m supposed to just walk out there and marry him like it’s easy.” Don’t let your eyes sting you told yourself, not now.

“It is easy, you just walk out there and do whatever it is Northerners do when you pray to a tree.” Both of you almost burst into a heavier laugh at that, swallowing a doubt down with a nod as he prompted you to stand straighter as he did. “Come, time to give that man the one thing that might make actually him happy for once in his life.”

Jon knew Arya would’ve been mad she wasn’t the first person he told. She had seen him kiss you in the stables when he was sure you both were alone, and later came storming into his room with a shove far too strong for a girl her size, angry he didn’t tell her.

Amusingly, she had gotten more angry the more he refused to admit it. Trying not to yell at him when Jon told her sneaking around with a highborn girl wouldn’t be a very respectful way to treat you. Saying you were nothing more then a friend, only to have her huff, turn away from him muttering “I forgot it’s normal to shove your tongue down your friends throats for no reason.”

Giving her a nudge in the back as he snapped back at her, “When you're my age, try go making some and then you’ll find out.” At that point she had thrown something at him, only to get tossed over his shoulder like she weighed nothing more then a pillow to get unceremoniously tossed onto the bed in her own room as she shouted this conversation wasn’t over yet.

But, he knew she was smart enough to realize why he and you were hiding things, and didn’t really bring it up again. Instead she sometimes would end up playing diversion to give you and him time alone without the others pestering you. Arya had always adored you, and while he never confirmed anything to her face they both understood she got what was happening.

Then that damned raven came. The month leading up to their arrival was filled with Jon growing increasingly unhappy, trying his best to placate Robb’s misgivings about what you and him were being forced into. All without giving away how angry he was that Robb was finally getting the very last thing Jon had solely to himself.

It was a little easier once he was already at the wall. Far from direct reminders of you, he had the time to let that heartache simmer, even though he was aware it had not once gone away. Instead he found a life full of other recruits who hated him, an instant contempt in Ser Alliser Thorne who from day one made it his life’s goal to make Jon as miserable as possible. If the knife wounds in his chest spoke anything, he’d say the man did indeed succeed in that endeavour.

Slowly it became a bit easier, learned how to better tune Thorne out when it mattered, and found common ground amongst the other recruits. Then one day, Jon was in the training yard helping teach Grenn a better grasp of the basics when he stopped mid way through and looked behind Jon, “What in seven hells is that?”

While Jon didn’t think much of Samwell Tarly at first, it changed soon. Watching the man stammering through an introduction with nerves worse then yours, only to watch Rast enjoy beating him senseless despite him being on the ground asking for it to stop. The normal thing to do, would be to let it happen and Pyp had even tried to pull Jon back as he moved forward. But it lasted only as long as it took for the man on the ground to yell in pain that he yields.

If Thorne had thought putting Sam with him as his watch partner was to punish him, he underestimated just what kind of person Jon was. It took barley any time standing up there as Sam told him why he was there for Jon to realize it. This was someone who had bravery in his own way, being able to tell him how his father had considered him worthless and would either have him take the black or would kill his own son for not living up to his expectations. He was someone who didn’t deserve to be treated the way his father had, the way Thorne wanted everyone else to treat him as well.

After that, being friends with him was easy. It had been a long time since Jon had met anyone who was just easy to talk to, easy to be friends with. They had been scrubbing down the tables one day, Sam having brought up how the brothers would sneak off to Mole’s Town to see the girls at the brothel and for whatever reason, Sam had the right combination of Jon’s trust that you came into his mind and refused to leave for a second. You were right there, and he couldn’t look away.

Jon hadn’t even so much as said your name since stepping foot outside the Winterfell gates and gods help him did Lord Tyrion ever try. But as he listened to Sam he felt that familiar ill in his chest that he did when riding away from you. “Don’t you think it’s a little bit unfair? Making us take our vows while they sneak off for a little Sally on the side?”

Glancing up to him with a bemused twist on his face, Jon almost mocked him for it, “Sally on the side?”

Relenting a bit, Sam found it in him with no malice to be amused as he was slightly put off by the topic at hand. “It’s silly, isn’t it. What, we can’t defend the Wall unless we’re celibate? It’s absurd.” Jon almost offhandedly spoke, not really thinking of it in the same terms, as he had only ever eyes for one. Once you came along, Jon didn’t really have the energy to care about other girls. Commenting from his own point of view that he didn’t think Sam would’ve been so upset about it.

Feeling bad instantly as Sam dropped his expression a little as if expecting better of him, “Why not? Because I’m fat?” Jon saying no earnestly, and while Sam clearly hadn’t taken Jon in offence coming from him, he suspected this was someone who was used to having his character put up in scrutiny a lot of his life as he found an almost jesting lecture of a tone to him. “I like girls just as much as you do.” A pause in his words as he came down to something more in the world of Sam’s own realism. “They might not like me as much.” Then it came down to a shadowing of insecurity that Jon knew too well on himself. A wish to shrink in on himself and hide way from a world ready to look at him in judgment, but a trust in this room that at least Jon wouldn’t. “I’ve never...been with one...” Glancing up from his work to Jon he tilted his head at him as if in on a truth that didn’t exist. “You’ve probably had hundreds.”

Were Sam not so serious, Jon genuinely might have laughed. Initially thinking to himself if Jon was what Sam thought someone girls would want, introducing him to Robb might just break the remainder of his mind. Whether he even found them attractive or not, not once did the girls around Winterfell or the scatterings coming in and out of Winter Town ever look Jon’s way once when Robb was around.

But, he also found not any reason to lie to him. Jon looking up at Sam with a quiet honesty, “No. As a matter of fact, I’m the same as you.”

Doubt was the first look, then a disbelief as if he must be full of it. “Yeah..I find that very hard to believe.” That was a fair point he contended. There was no denying that girls would look at the two of them and find more of a general majority with a preference to one over the other, but not much of that shallow attributing of looks mattered to Jon.

He didn’t think much of Sam when he first stepped into the training yard, but quickly found a friend that was becoming someone he could genuinely trust. And perhaps, it was that feeling of trust which made Jon fight internally as Sam looked at him. That wonder of, what did it matter?

Jon spent his entire life hiding what he felt for you, because he knew it was never going to be a life he could have outside of fantasy. Six years he would sneak in the shadows with you, and in public he had to always be aware of how close he was getting. Not to get too handsy, not to be too physically playful or affectionate, not to look at you too long when he wasn’t supposed to.

But here? In a frozen exile at the end of the world? What harm would he do to you here by speaking life into the love still agonized in his heart? He took yours here with him, and Jon wondered what it would feel like to talk about it. He never had, denied it to Arya even when he had been caught, but never had he said a word about what you two were to each other.

Sam though, Jon had the feeling that if Sam was trusting Jon not to be judgmental of him, he should trust the same in return. A lightness in his grey eyes washed over as he could still see you as if it were months ago in your last visit to Winterfell, at least your last visit leaving a Baratheon.

“I came very close once.” Sam’s attention perked up, but Jon struggled to find the words to describe without giving away the truth of who you were, and his generalization came off as awkward. “I was alone in a room with a naked girl, but…”

“Didn’t know where to put it?”

Clearly he was amused by how easily Jon snapped his head over to him with a glare, despite how it was most definitely a jest. “I know where to put it.” But he still wasn’t explaining himself well.

Sam trying to prompt him with any details that could paint any picture. “Was she…old and ugly?”

Jon shook his head, voice low as if offended by the sheer idea. “No. No, she was..beautiful. More beautiful of a girl then I had any right to have in my bed.” It tipped on the edge of his tongue, but the moment your name came from Jon’s lips it was as if it all spilled out and he had no sense to contain it. “She’s-she was my best friend. Knew her for almost fifteen years, came to Winterfell to learn under my father but the second I saw her? I don’t know if there was ever a time I wasn’t in love with her.”

He could see Jon wasn’t really here, his physical present but there was sad softness in his eyes that was so distant that he was trapped in a memory. “And you two almost..?”

Nodding, he almost breathed out a laugh. “We had never done much, thought we had all the time in the world. We liked taking everything slow, but we were still each others firsts for everything. Spent six years sneaking around with her behind everyone's backs and finally we thought we were ready. We were alone, I had her in my room and she let me take off all her clothes..”

Many years later from that moment, together in that hot bath after reclaiming Winterfell from the Boltons, Jon had tried guiltily to skirt around the subject when you had innocently asked what he told Sam about you. Considering that when Sam in that moment had tried to discreetly ask about your breasts Jon had looked away for a moment before shaking his head at him. Both of them amused at how clearly there was a bit of a perverse image in Jon’s mind as Sam asked, “That good?”

“Better.” The smile on his face though was still as far away as it was genuine. “More then better, soft, like they were made to fit in my hands perfectly, sensitive too..” Almost laughing to himself at how easily he found even just a simple amusement in teasing that, “Gods she was so sensitive to anywhere I touched her. We never got very far together but with what I did do, sometimes I’d have to kiss her just so the whole castle didn’t hear..”

Coming back around to the point, Jon could still see every part of your nerves as you looked brightly up at him. “We were alone, and I had her naked on my bed, I was nervous but I knew she was too. Could barley convince herself to take my shirt off without my help. But I was hovering over her..and..I couldn’t do it..”

It wasn’t just a simple insecurity in his voice turning then, and Sam was smart enough to pick up on the mood change easily. Asking why he couldn’t, and Jon looked at him with something akin to a bit more pain then Sam expected. “What’s my name?”

“Jon Snow.”

Jon guiding him to an answer that Sam was forming behind his mind, asking him, “And why is my surname Snow?”

It didn’t really clue in his mind at that time, but Sam seemed almost hesitant to say it. As if about to call him something that to Sam, didn’t seem very nice. He was someone who was likely ridiculed and looked down on his whole life, and perhaps the idea of Jon experiencing that in a different way felt strange to him. But he knew what answer Jon was waiting for. “Because…you’re a bastard from the North.”

Come the present it had been a long time since he had felt that pain strongly, but in that conversation, in the memory as he hovered over you on his bed? Jon knew exactly the fear he had felt looking down at you, despite how much he truly wanted you. And it came out in that level of pain he felt.

“I never met my mother. My father wouldn’t even tell me her name. I don’t know if she’s living or dead, I don’t know if she’s a noblewoman, or a fisherman’s wife, or a whore. That day though..it should have been easy. I had my girl all to myself, no clothes on, but all I could think was, what if I got her pregnant? And she has a child, another bastard named Snow?” Swallowing down something that flashed in a self hatred in his eyes, Jons voice lowered almost just to himself, despite Sam hearing it easy. “I couldn’t ruin my own child’s life just because I was in love with a girl I wasn’t allowed to have.”

As Sam looked at him, once more Jon wondered, what was the point in hiding it? He said your first name, but in what world would telling Samwell Tarly in Castle Black have such a backlash that it would destroy the marriage you now had. “I don’t think I understand, you’re father’s still a Lord. Why wouldn’t you be allowed to be with her unless she was someone -”

When it was out there, it was out there and clearly whatever common girl Sam was imagining was nothing close to the truth. “Unless she was someone in the royal family?” The wide look on Sam’s eye was missed as Jon clenched his jaw now looking back to the table. But the strain in his hand refused to let him distract by going back to work. “Someone like King Robert’s niece. A beautiful Baratheon girl who spent her life in the Crownlands and the capitol. Around all the other royals and nobles, sitting on the small council because on top of everything else, she’s so smart too.”

He exhaled deeply, “A girl like her would never be allowed to marry a bastard. And if I slept with her, and I got her pregnant? I’d have been the one to ruin her life. Our child would grow up just another Snow being looked down at for existing..” Trying to shake off that heavy weight on his shoulders, Jon tried to look back up more casually at Sam but it wasn’t really a facade either bought. “That’s not a good life for a child.”

But then the gears in Sam’s head begun to turn, begun to connect the dots to come to the conclusion Jon had still been dancing around. “King Robert’s niece, but that would mean she..”

It wasn’t anger or even jealousy, just defeat in Jon’s voice. “It means she’s the girl who just got married to my brother. To Robb.” It wasn’t pity in Sam’s eyes but Jon felt sick over it all the same. It would be later that they would talk more, that Sam had come to learn about Jon’s family in general and clearly no matter the sore spot there, he didn’t hate Robb for it, not even close. But it didn’t mean as the two men stood there it didn’t still hurt.

In the quiet that followed, Sam did what he did best. There was nothing left to say that Jon wanted to share, and there was no use in keeping him feeling as tense as he was. Leaning against the other side of the table, Sam found light jest in his eyes as he said, “So..you didn’t know where to put it.”

Maybe the memory wouldn’t have been such a sour one, if the rough housing as a result of being made fun of wasn’t interrupted by the despising contempt of Ser Alliser Thorne. Ironic in a sense Jon thought, that the conversation he walked in on, was about you. Was about the woman he would murder Jon for going to rescue, was about the woman who would behead the man himself for said crime.

As he stood by the Weirwood, his eyes finding Ghost sitting a respectable distance away to not spook the crowd of spectators, Jon couldn’t help but think about Arya. About how she would’ve been endlessly offended that Jon had told Sam the truth of you before he had told his own sister, and as he considered the truth, that he now knew without a doubt, her direwolf Nymeria was still alive and well out there? He wondered if in another world where Arya was still alive, how mad she would then also be to not even be at Jon’s own wedding, to you of all people.

But in truth, Jon was still hoping he wasn’t going to wake up from this as a mocking nightmare. He had long given up the idea of marrying you. The very fear he told Sam of accidentally giving you a child came right from knowing a Snow wasn’t going to be allowed to come close to marrying you.

Yet now he stood as the last of the Stark’s, even if only in his blood. The one his people called King in the North and you were willingly setting aside both strong family names given to you by birth and blood to be down at his level. He told you you didn’t have to, but you refused his entire life to let him think you saw him being a Snow as any indicator of how you looked at him.

He was scared of having a child with you, a bastard named Snow. Only now, that was exactly what your children’s name would be, but without a single shred of the prejudice against being a bastard. His children being called Snow, would merely be seen as the King’s children. Not the King’s bastards, not the bastard boy’s own bastard children.

Just his and your children alone.

“Am I allowed to say it’s weird seeing you here?” Jon smirked a little at the voice, he felt weird standing there. Turning to look properly at Theon, they both knew it hadn’t stopped being strange that the only ones left were the three of you. The ones always odd out of the family, two of which never belonging to it by any sort of blood in the first place.

As the two men stood out in the cool air, Northerners around much more quiet and respectable then when the crowd had been full of Southerners and the royal company. The snow around them in winter and no one but the North that mattered here to witness it. It felt weird, but it also was right. Jon’s voice low as he looked between Theon and the woods as if you’d appear from nowhere. “My last night in Winterfell, I stood on the other side and had to be the one watching her marry Robb. I only hope Robb is okay with me taking his spot with her this time.”

Theon however, was only calm with no doubt as he shook his head. “He’d be grateful it was you.” As Jon looked at him, eyes shining with something like hope for that to be true he elaborated. “It started to feel weird the longer you weren’t around. The three of us would stand there and we all knew you were missing. He didn’t talk about it much when she was there, had enough on her mind with her father. But Robb would say he at the least wished you could’ve been there just so she had someone to talk to. Hated that the only thing she knew to occupy herself was work more, and Robb could never find the time to force her to relax on her own.“

Jon couldn’t tell if he wanted to smile or let his heart drop. He would wonder did you miss Robb for this, prefer him to Jon for that and yet Theon was standing there telling him Robb wasn’t far from the opposite side of that dilemma. “Trusting me with his Kingdom is a far cry from saying he’d want me marrying his wife.”

Theon however, felt something of confidence in a fate he knew was worse. You and him both knew that Robb died hating him, died thinking he was a traitor who killed Bran and Rickon. There was little that could top such an ending for the two of them. Almost as if rapidly to change the subject between them he moved to ask Jon, “What do you reckon is running through her mind?”

It was quiet, but the exhale was there and it was shaky. “Knowing her nerves, probably deciding whether or not she thinks she’s making a mistake.” Jaw clenching slightly, his voice lowered so there was no chance another heard. “Spends too much time worrying about if she’s a burden, can’t think of another way to make her realize it’s the opposite then this.’ He was quiet, of all people Jon had certainly never said anything near it to Theon. “But I’ve always wanted to marry her. I’ve never not been in love with her, my whole life I knew I’d have to give her up. Used to spend hours as a boy wondering how to convince my father to let me marry her one day. ”

Nodding, he was glad Theon found a way to ease that tension still sat in his throat. Looking away from him with a shrug, “Well I’ll force you two to do this if I have too. Sick of watching you both be shit at doing anything that would make you happy.” Jon raised an eyebrow at him, unsure if he was on more the edge of somewhat offended or amused that he wasn’t entirely wrong. “Don’t give me that look. You being King in the North doesn’t mean I can’t tell you when you’re only being miserable because you’re too stubborn.”

Something akin to part of a laugh found Jon, both of them looking away in jest. It was a strange dynamic carving itself out now with him, he was always closer to Robb and then all he knew of him was how he betrayed Jon’s family. Theon had cemented himself as someone that Jon couldn’t stand by and yet he brought you to Castle Black when Jon failed too, and you both arrived together with a bond that left behind the betrayal that once had you and Robb calling for his execution.

But Robb was gone, and Jon wasn’t. Moving forward between them was slow, but every day it got a little easier.

In the quiet as wind calmly blew around in the snowy landscape of the godswood, Jon only hoped that if Robb was watching, he found peace that he was trying to mend the bridges that Robb died before he could finish building. The North was their kingdom, their people. Jon wasn’t the King that Robb was and he couldn’t try to be. But he hoped he was putting the work Robb died for back together enough to make his brother proud. He also couldn’t help but hope that everything he’s done, and now marrying you?

Jon hoped that his father was proud of him too in his own way.

“I’d rather face a thousand armed men then get married in front of all those people.”

You had never seen an inch of war when Ned Stark had told you that, and yet now you fully understood exactly what he was talking about. Having eyes on you wasn’t the nerve wracking aspect, you could do that in a sense of duty but this was more spectacle. Eyes for entertainment in it’s own manner and that was not what you were used too. You were not the one calling for attention.

The sight around the godswood was almost the opposite of the last time. Instead of a bright sun still prevailing lush green surrounding it with the small pond sitting by it reflecting off, it instead was that of cold. Yet, it almost felt more fitting for Winterfell as a whole. The pond partially frozen over on one end a snow banked the edges of the other.

Leading all around the snow was so white that it blended into the Weirwood and the red of it’s leaves stuck out as if it were the only colour to truly exist. The sky was fading from the gold peak of evening and found itself in shades of blue turning darker by each passing hour that had not taken away from how illuminated it all fell onto.

The last it seemed as if too many people were there, too many eyes and so much of it was ones that would turn around and stab you and the Starks in the back. Yet this time, even as the ones attending were people you both knew and trusted the right people weren’t there. There wasn’t enough.

Many were missing that deserved to be here, and their absence made the whole affair feel on the edge of bittersweet. It had taken blood and death to get here, but you two had risen from that darkness when none else had. It almost however felt identical as the moment anything came into view did ragged nerves deafen and blind you to everything but the pounding of your heart.

No decorations, no pomp, just the North and the godswood as it always was. And this time, no eyes you needed to hide from or avoid, yet still, they made you nervous all the same.

Ser Davos had adjusted his hold from light to something firmer and more comforting, sensing the tension as eyes all fell upon you. None could hear from such a distance, but he leaned more to you with a soothing “Don’t look at them, look at him. They aren’t here.”

You barley reacted, but he could tell by the small exhale of air from your lungs that you tried to ease down, relaxing more. The air was a bit stinging on your skin, but perhaps that helped you feel so drastically in the moment.

In the sights of the Old Gods, little needed to be presided over in terms of vows for marriage. Seen as a bonding of two people and less like an agreement upon two parties that requires much guidance, witnesses. No septon leading both to the end as if the marrying parties need to be hand held along the way. It was common amongst the Faith of the Seven, septons would do all the work, all the speaking when in truth there was little which needed to be said.

This wasn’t about the crowd, it was about the couple.

Faces that now you fought beside watched you both, others more proud then admiring. You dared not look at Maege Mormont. She'd had a mouthful to say to you about how you left for Dragonstone separate, and came back to a marriage.

No fanfare for the Southerners watching as the only ones who were there needed none for their sake, and the rest all knew this had nothing to do with them as people or even the North. Your mother, while not with the Old Gods, didn't follow the Seven anymore, and Ser Davos didn't care.

The Starks had been raised with the Old Gods and the new, as Catelyn grew up under the Seven. They all varied in who followed what stronger, but there was no question that the one who felt no connection to the new Gods was Jon. Catelyn was not his mother, he had no obligation to follow the Seven except for doing as such so Robb didn’t do it alone. But the older he got the more he let go of it.

You could remember once, jesting to him and Lord Stark that they both looked as if they were worried about bursting into flames if they set foot in the sept. Perhaps it was fair no one was left in Winterfell who preyed to the Seven. As much work as Jon still was putting in to rebuild what of Winterfell had been left in ruins, the Sept built specifically for the woman who shut him out his whole life did not quite reach the top of his priority lists.

Jon needed nothing but the Old Gods in his life and thus as he stood by the Weirwood it was that connection that mattered only. Without a shadow of doubt, Jon Snow was of the North.

“Don’t look for me in the ceremony. I’ll be there, but don’t look for me. You’re going to be Robb’s now, and I want you to be okay with accepting that.”

You listened to him that day. Knowing your future lied with The Young Wolf you were marrying and had to let Jon take that part of your heart away with him, and so you didn’t glance to him once. Now though, there was no one to look at, no one to hide your gaze from. This time, The White Wolf was the only one there with anything that mattered, and there was no use in hiding.

The dark fur around his shoulders made him look strong and fierce, sat broadly over his shoulders as the leathers across the rest of him were tied between greys, and browns and shades of black that made him stand out against the snowing land around him. You couldn’t pay attention to the way he looked at you, you already had to focus to keep your heart steady. You couldn’t handle how easily Jon painted thousands of words in the shine of his eyes when looking at you.

But you were handed over to him, a gloved hand reached out to pull you gently to him and truth be told there could have been yells and screams of war right beside you and you’d hear none of it. Just you two, in a place that you both grew up thinking was the one thing you’d never be allowed to have with one another. The freedom to be each others.

As Jon’s fur cloak was draped over your shoulders, the nerves melted into the ground and left you the longer his bright eyes refused to leave you. Still with your hand held in his, he carefully guided you to kneel before the carved face of the Weirwood in the cold of the snow and hadn’t let go as both of you closed your eyes as the wind blew around you.

You had prayed once to find a true life and love with Robb, and the Old Gods had granted you that. This time however? That love was still real, and it was real towards Robb just as strong and pure as it was towards Jon. You didn’t need to pray for love or a future that would bring a marriage peace. Not this time.

As the wind blew cold through your hair and dancing in a sting across your cheeks, you slowly opened your eyes, turning to look up to the carved face of the Weirwood. A quiet moment passed as you both stayed knelt there, lives so much more complicated then the last time you had been here and yet the nerves which had you shy and meek with Robb didn’t find it’s way back this time once more.

Jon no longer felt the need to hide what it was between you, and he would not pretend it was otherwise ever again. He was a man who felt things very deeply and very raw, and having to hide that all from people seeing the way he wished to be with you was a step too far in this new life. You couldn’t help but hope and pray that you were still good enough for him.

The gloved hand still wrapped on the cold ground with yours tightened to grab your focus back as if he could sense your mind drifting away. Flickering your eyes to the side, you could see his grey eyes shined so bright that they could light up a pitch black night sky. Standing with ease himself, one hand still holding yours to lead you up, and his other gently steadied you at your waist as for a moment you looked to one another.

Only one final thing was left, and the last was innocent and small as Robb sensed your ragged nerves, but Jon looked deep into your eyes with a softness that could drown you. And you knew it was only love he wanted to show these people he felt for you.

Taking a step close as you turned to look up more at him, the hand in yours leaving to gently cup the side of your cheek, thumb running along the skin. Just as your palms innocently found a resting place flat on his torso, Jon’s other hand left your waist.

Cupping your other cheek and lower to your jaw so he could tilt your head up to fit him. Closing the gap between you, it was not a shy peck but something needing with passion radiating from it. Lasting a few moments more than appropriate, but he kissed you with the same energy as if alone, almost sending you a step backward had your hands not been held tight against his chest. Only pulling back when your arms slid up more to his neck and the temptation to deepen it was found in him.

If the crowd had made a sound, neither of you heard it. His thumb still running over your cheek as he pulled from your lips to look at you before a genuine smile fell over him. Almost breathing out a laugh along with how brightly he smiled and you hadn’t even realized a teary eyed one came over you.

A moment of weakness, Jon leaned in for one more kiss. One a bit deeper as the sounds of a proud and amused crowd filtered in finally. But just as Jon pulled from your lips, gently tracing the bridge of your nose with his, he turned partially to look at his people. A playfulness in his tone that many had not heard from him so easily since having all been reunited under a new King in the North. The other hand on your jaw slipped down to your hip as he turned to them.

It was a bit love sick, but you hadn’t looked away from him yet. You found no desire to, just looking at a man too handsome for his own good that now gifted you his own name as you stood not just a King and Queen, but man and wife.

“It’s been a tough few months, and I think I speak for us all when I say it’ll do us all good to enjoy a celebration even just for tonight.” You only at the last second noticed a tinge of mischief in his voice as you failed to also catch the arm on your hip sliding down over the skirt of your dress. Just as Jon’s voice raised to a playfully louder projection, Jon knelt quickly to wrap an arm under you and in an instant swept you right off the ground as if weighing nothing. “Now, let’s get this one inside before she freezes.”

The surprise of the action, had entirely caught you off guard, barley able to wrap your arms around the back of his neck in a laughing protest “Jon-”

A wedding of Northerners indeed, all of them laughing in approval and goading into their King’s playfulness despite you almost wanting to hide in his neck in an amused fluster at Jon picking you up in his arms in such a grandiose display. Certainly not what the rigidness of the Seven usually called for.

Ser Davos looked a mix of proud and amused at both, before sharing a glance with Selyse with a tilt of his head as if to tell her to ease up in any disapproval of the people's entertainment. This certainly hadn't been how Stannis treated her at their own wedding that was for certain.

But, without saying a word of it to any, Selyse did feel a smile as she gracefully followed the crowd near the back. She had never met the man Stannis married you off too, and many times regretted the things she said about him when you all stood on opposite sides of a war.

She never met Robb Stark, but she knew Jon Snow and she could certainly say, she's never seen anyone pull such an easy smile and laugh out of you then he was doing now.

It only for a moment, had slammed into your mind as you stood there. You were fine, and it hadn't come into your thoughts up until music begun to play. It sounded not a single thing like that sound, but all the same your eyes darted to those playing it. As if waiting to see when they would brandish their blood soaked truth. Heart beginning to race in that moment your lungs tightened to something you could choke on, in a second did a whisper hit your ears but you wanted to whip around to see him nowhere near you. Despite the cracking of his voice speaking loudly in the hall.

“Your Grace, I feel I’ve been remiss in my duties. I’ve given you meat and wine and music, but I haven’t shown you the hospitality you deserve. Afterall, my King is long overdue a wedding gift for he and his Queen.”

Barley for a moment did you stand there on your own, but the hall was no longer the warm comfort stones of Winterfell, instead the stuffy air of The Twins as blood rushed from your veins to pool in your stomach and mouth as the world faded to muffles. The sounds as if they had been underwater, your vision so blurry you barley knew the world outside Robb in front of you.

Blue eyes haunted you and so did the powerful voice which would be the last thing you though you would hear. As if speaking into your ear, looking over the hall of people enjoying themselves as you stood back amidst a nightmare. You hadn't considered what was said in that moment, your mind was fading so fast you had perhaps mere seconds left and it meant nothing as Robb fell beside you.

“Jaime Lannister sends his regards.”

It echoed, and echoed in your mind. You heard it again and again right until the truth of music came back into sounds as a warm figure came to your side. Just as a hand tilted your chin to look over at him, you found Jon's grey eyes in a warm concern and a silent question. Looking back to the hall, you were in Winterfell and you could breathe once more.

Instead of any answer, you forced the echo out of your ears as you cupped his jaw gently and leaned up to press your lips gently to his.

Public affection as such was not Jon's preference, nor did you wish to be one to initiate it, but if just for tonight here was the only place it made sense. If you judged by the way Jon's hand found your waist to pull you a bit more into him, he agreed if just for tonight.

It was easy to laugh and speak that night. None of the girlish fears plagued what was to come, and none of it too was buried under the new feat of having it with one you never thought you would have. Last time there was hardly any food to speak of that sat in your stomach and only wine to stop the nerves from overtaking, even though they did anyways. Robb had at once point placed a gentle hand on your thigh whispering that you should try and at least at something.

Now, it was not at all the same. You knew what you were in for in terms of what came after such a reception and none of it was unknown. Food and ale were shared and the longer they were consumed the more rowdy the Northerners became, much of the night spent speaking with many as Jon would ensure you stayed right beside him with an arm pulling you into his side if you strayed too far.

The way in which some joked with you, did Jon's hand on your waist hidden by his fur still over you, slip down to your hip in a tight grip had you wondering just as you did over four years ago.

What exactly did this wolf have hiding in his desires?

When the crowd had noticed the newly weds had snuck off, they had no idea when you both had done so. Only some with the vague memory and ideas, that such a practice seemed common amongst the Stark men on their wedding nights. The tradition is fun when it is anyone but their own wife.

It was almost strange that it felt normal. As your eyes were trained out of the window, the new moon overhead on the clear night as Winterfell felt alive and the woods just beyond were as calm as they looked serene. Crackling of a fire increased as more wood was added to it before that warmth came and enveloped your back.

Jon's hands weren't greedy as he slipped his fur from your shoulders, letting it sit to the side as he pressed his chest into your back, one arm slipping around your front and holding your hand firmly over your stomach, the other running up and down your waist as he silently looked over you from his angle.

Neither of you rushed anything when he brought you back to his room, Jon's gentle rasp murmuring in your ear to give him a moment to stoke the flames that had gone low in his absence, leading to you finding the open window. His room was always on the colder side, more air blowing through that chilled things right down but in exchange Jon was diligent about keeping the fire properly tended too. Keeping warm in the bed was not an option for so long, only the easy to fake innocence of spending time on the fur before his fireplace was where Jon would explore you in early years together.

Both of you for the time were content looking out the window, Jon resting the side of his head against yours as you partially turned to nuzzle a bit into the feeling. Your voice was quiet as you could feel two scenarios swirling as images in your mind. “Jon, I know it won't change anything or why I'm even thinking of it..but, before everything, before Robb..I'm sorry I wasn't ready for you that day.”

His brows furrowed as he looked down at you, but your eyes looking wide at the outside winter but your voice was quiet and restrained. “There's nothing to be sorry for. I wasn't ready either.”

But you shook your head, throat a bit choking as you spoke. “I know, but I- we promised that day, that we would wait for the other to be ready. To have our first proper time with each other..but I didn't..” Jon tried to follow your thoughts but it went somewhere he didn't expect you to go on such a night. “I promised I'd wait for you, but I didn't. My first time was with Robb.”

You swallowed heavy, no regret was in that night together but the other image in your mind was something you thought you knew what it was, until he had yelled at you otherwise. Your voice quiet, “I'm sorry it meant that you..” You trailed off, but a distant and strained low tone in Jon finished as the hand around your front pulled you closer.

“It meant my first was Ygritte.”

He said nothing of it, but you felt the stiffness behind you. Your hand running along his arm as you moved to push the soft material up over his wrists to lightly trail over his skin. “No one deserves that to be their first. It should've been with someone who actually cared about you.”

Feeling him hid his face somewhat in your neck before turning to press a gentle kiss to the skin he found there, his voice was heavier then he wanted you to pick up on. Something painful he wanted to hold back from you noticing. “Don't apologize for what she did. None of that was your fault, you married Robb. You're first time was right to be with him.” Trying to protest that he didn't deserve what happened to him but he cut you off. A more firm and confident kiss pressed to your neck this time.

Silent for a moment, but what he said next had made you firmly pause. “I saw you, in the middle of..I saw you.” The hand over your front slowly made it's way to your scar as your breath hitched. His voice low in your ear, “You were telling Robb you were pregnant. I saw you both, could hear you together, and I kept seeing a child that looked like mine. Had your eyes, but looked like me. I kept seeing it, and it's the only thing that got me through that night.”

Finally turning in his arms, Jon settled them along your waist both as you reached up to cup his cheeks, leaning up to press a single kiss to his lips. Pulling back his grey eyes were painted over with a tenderness that was brewing with something close to adoration, and he found exactly the same in yours to his. Speaking in a whisper as you ran your thumb along the facial hair trailing his jawline. “I can't take away what she did, but now we have all the time in the world to let me make it up to you.”

Leaning forward more, you could feel his breath on your skin, his hands smoothing down to your hips running them over your dress a bit more sensually. “You've more then made it up to me, and I don't want her to have any part between you and me. She's gone, we're here and you're my wife..” As he tried finishing his thought, a breathless laugh left him weakly as he looked you over, a shine melting down to a genuine smile as he look at you. “My wife, you're really my wife..”

Nodding, your smile was close to something that threatened to swallow you whole, the ingenuity in his face that was so incredibly rare. “Your wife. Baratheon, then a Stark, and now a Snow.” He shook his head with a half hearted laugh trying to act as a scolding disapproval but not a hint of malice was in your words and it clearly struck something deep in his heart over the ease of it on you. “Hey, you were the one who claimed it sounded pretty attached to my name.”

Invading your space, Jon ran his lips again over your neck making a sensitive path to just below your ear before rasping into it, “And you're the one who said I was biased about you.”

Your hands trailed to grasp at his shoulders, ever so slowly moving to take his leathers and armour off as you tried not to shiver. “That was because you were trying to pretend as if men wanted to get my attention when we both know that's not true.”

Chuckling, Jon didn't stop you from slowly undressing him. Knowing the moment he took your dress off he wouldn't stop, and you almost shivered more at the thought. Your early time with Jon was so soft and innocent, going from that to Robb's dominating and filthy nature had been something close to a culture shock at the time. But now, it was finding out the darker part of Jon's mind may have been locked away more then you once thought.

The leather armours and tunic now off, left in a softer grey undershirt he snatched your hands when you went to pull it off. Looking down at you with a darkening in his eyes. “I could name fifty men out there who would do anything for a chance to fuck you.” An embarrassed fluster ran over your nerves so fast that Jon even picked up on it. Stepping forward with your hands still in his as they now sat at your waist, him pushing you backward. A small smirk at you trying to modestly shake your head, “So if I brought Tormund in here you're going to tell me he wouldn't jump at the first chance he gets to be inside you?”

Gods be good, Jon and Robb were both just as sadistic about embarrassing you, and you were pretty sure they both got off on it. Everything about the woman you tried to be all your life, and the two wolves with the love of your heart managed to be smug that they knew how to make you fluster in an instant. “He..we don't, it's only banter Jon I promi-”

Pushing you back further his eyes darkened more and his voice dropping more to a husk every time he spoke, “That wasn't an accusation, darling. Only a fact.” Just when you found a voice to say something playful back to try and gain any upper hand, Jon let go of your hands just as he shoved your back into the stone wall, pressing you into it as he rested both hands on either side of your head.

A knee pushing your legs apart as much as he could from under your dress but he refused to take it off of you. Just enough space to slide his foot in the under of your skirt to keep you more trapped on most sides to escape him. In juxtaposition to his rough tone, Jon gently ran his nose along yours before nudging it playfully. Your hands reaching up as he spoke, letting his curls fall loose. “If I wasn't here, he'd be the one to spend all night fucking you.”

Fingers raking through his curls, stopping gently to readjust when they'd reach too wild of a tangle to be gentle with, each time your nails scratched his scalp as he swallowed harshly enough you could hear as he did so. “I only want you, Jon. I promise, you alone.” He exhaled heavily, the fact that his mind was tied between his lust and such an innocent way you had spoken that with had him stop his teasing.

Trying to reign himself in to not scare you off, but you continued to run your hands through his hair and for a moment of weakness, Jon let his head fall into your neck with a grunt at how good it felt. Not even pulling or tugging, just raking through his curls as you felt his chest rising and falling a lot to keep himself collected. He tried murmuring your name, but the soft tone was light and airy close to your ear, now that held no seductive, playful intention despite how pressed into the wall he had you.

Jon pulled back a bit more from you. One hand running through your hair as he looked at you with a quiet in them. “I try to be gentle, I want to be gentle with you.” A conflict once more sat in the grey as you let one hand run over his hair back, while the other rested close to his cheek. “When I would imagine what our first time would've been, I always thought it would be slow. Take our time, never imagined me being so rough with you.”

This time, you grabbed his hands making your way both to his shirt as you covered his to pull it up and off, letting the material drop wherever it landed without a care. Reaching himself, you still in the ivory dress Jon had made specifically for you, knelt down carefully. Your palms braced on his thighs as you looked up with eyes shining wide at him. “And yet I love you all the same.”

Not waiting much for him to respond, you moved to take everything else off, leaving only his pants before you looked back up at him. The black ink seeped into his gaze again, one hand ran down the back of your hair while he looked at you with a silent, dark sternness as he nodded down at you.

A shaky exhale left at just how brooding yet confident he seemed as he looked down to you, slowly pulling them down his legs until there was nothing left on him. Your hands returned to his thighs, flat against his skin as you were so close to his cock. Already it looked thick, and painfully in need like he had been hard for quite some during throughout the night before even getting to his room.

But you didn't presume, and you waited for Jon as he moved to gently gather enough of your hair in a large hand, holding you steady without controlling your every movement. Enough that you knew he intentionally made sure none of it would fall in your face. Him putting his mouth on you made you nervous, but somehow as you knelt there, you knew he was struggling to let you do it to him.

His voice husking in a deep gruffness, “This is what we're going to do,” Your posture straitening up instinctively at the low authority he spoke with. “I'll let you take me like this tonight, but you have to promise me that you're not just doing it beacuse you think you should.” Your brows rose in a surprised question as he let his free hand trail across your jaw and lips. “I don't expect this, and I don't want you thinking I expect this. I'll let you have me in your mouth tonight, but you need to promise me you'll let me take care of you properly from now on.”

Your heart raced, something strange at how wanted to be the one to taste you, without any return when you'd give it willingly as much as he wanted. “Can we not negotiate equal terms, your grace?”

Jaw clenching, you also felt how much he was trying not to tighten his grip too much with his handful of your hair. “I want to take care of you, the only thing I want you to do when we're together is to feel good. Help me make you feel good, and I'm happy.” Your name came from his lips softly, “Are we alright with that?”

Genuinely watching with a true question before relaxing as you nodded. “I am.” Seeing there was something else on your mind he waited patiently as if his cock wasn't tinged a bit red there was so much blood rushing into it. “Is it still alright if I..” Your fingertips braced on his thighs a bit more as you bit your lip a bit nervously as if he'd say no. But he nodded silently for you to continue.

Gentle licks to the tip of his cock before you slowly made your way down his length, licks and pressing your lips all down him like a kiss. Down one side and then the other as Jon's stomach tensed at the sensation. One proper kiss to the tip before you slowly took him into your mouth, cock sliding easily in your mouth from how well you already licked his length but you didn't stop until you made it half way down.

Letting him slide in and out of your mouth half way, a hum around his cock too as you sucked. You wanted to savour it, savour how heavy he felt on your tongue and how much your jaw stung from the stretch so early.

Your eyes were closed as you made another small noise in your throat like a humming whine when you went deeper. Took more of him, half way to over two thirds of the way before you hadn't had enough air, by the time you could suck up and down his entire size up to the black coarse hair around the base. Your heart racing at the panic of him so deep but you just whined instead. Jon's cock soaked in your warm mouth, you hating coming off of him for too long, wanting to keep him in your mouth properly, always making him feel good, always feeling him twitch and throb at each deep suck.

Your fingers tensed against his thighs, and with not much room to go behind you at the wall, Jon readjusted his grip on your hair before ever so slowly moving. Giving you enough time to relax your throat, as he guided your head to bob along his cock at a steady, slow rate. Pulling you nearly off him before sinking so deep in your throat you couldn't take anything else and slowly right back. Never giving you a second to catch up but he also never pushed you anything close to rough or demanding.

Throbbing in your mouth, Jon felt that sensation almost too soon. Worked up almost from the very moment he had seen you looking at the very dress still adorning you. Him bare with his cock being soaked by your warm mouth as you almost lost yourself to the feeling. The beautiful ivory dress showing nothing even risque. Just modest, long and covering like you were most comfortable with but the image of such a sight mixed with such a filthy act drew him close.

He told you he'd let you have this, but his insides burned and the feeling too out of control as the desire to shove you down his entire cocks length roughly, over took him, did he suddenly pull you off him entirely. The sight of you gasping for air as a mix of your saliva and what of his seed already coated your tongue visible from the sudden movement.

Looking up at him with a question, “Jon?” But as Jon helped you stand he barley gave you any time to form more of a sentence before he grabbed both of your cheeks. Pulling you into him as your hands wrapped around his waist to steady yourself. Shoving you hard against the stone wall Jon pressed himself tightly against you, one hand slipping to your jaw to tilt your head up, making it far easier for him to bite your bottom lip and slide his tongue into your own mouth.

Your hands pressed flat against his chest, the jagged feelings of his scars sending a distressing feeling in your mind but Jon wouldn't part from your lips long enough to let you linger on the thought. Licking and brushing his tongue against yours as he felt you start to writhe against him.

Trying to call his name between the only breaths be let you have, Jon pulled back with a heaving pant and seething in his teeth as he looked you over. A full foot back from you as he eyed you down as if you had nothing before he knelt just enough to grab the skirt of your dress. Pulling it up and up until he could toss it onto the ground, yanking the fabric hiding your soaked core from him down enough that it tore as he slipped it down your legs.

A hand on your hip almost prompting you to step out of them as Jon looked you over once more, were it not you one might have mistaken his look for unimpressed but you knew all to opposite. The darkness in his eyes as he grabbed one of your hands, guiding it to his cock. You looked small trying to wrap around how thick he was, even moreso as his hand stayed, guiding you to stroke his cock with tight, quick and somewhat rough strokes.

Your eyes flickering up to his, Jon nodded in bright approval before letting you stroke him on your own, one hand cupping your cheek and the other around the back of your head, threading through your hair and somewhat grabbing the back of your neck. Jon once more captured your lips, biting your bottom one every time you let his kiss distract you. His breathing as he kissed you picked up, demanding you let him deepen the kiss as the sounds were almost loud against the fire crackling on the other side of the room.

Your veins felt too hot, the room cold with the window beside you wide open but you could feel sweat forming as if your entire person burned in Jon's presence. His grip on you tightened as he shook in your touch, cock twitching in your hand.

Just as he groaned a mumbling of your name into your mouth, Jon send the hand on your cheek down to wrap around your hand on his cock again. Moving along with your strokes as he came, painting your lower stomach where your own scar was with his seed and on your mound. Grunting out as he moved to bite at your neck as the last of him covered your skin.

You almost felt too overwhelmed, like Jon's mind was racing far quicker then you could keep up. Finally moving your hand from his cock only to grasp at your wrist, and slamming it up in his hold against the wall beside your head as he stared at you. A small ask of his name as he stared you up and down.

Pulling away suddenly Jon did outstretch a hand to guide you to the other side of the room. Turning to stand somewhat behind you running all along the skin of yours he could reach. “Our first time was almost right here.” Leaning to rasp in your ear, “Will my wife let me fuck her in our bed?” Nodding, Jon kissed the side of your head in response. Pushing you forward, “Lay down for me.”

Braced up on your palms as one knee bent slightly as you lay on the fur, Jon just looked at you with a shake of his head to drive a thought out of his mind it appeared. Slowly he almost appeared to approach you on the bed like a predator, prowling towards what he wants. Climbing up on top of you though, Jon left a lot of that on the ground outside of here.

Kissing you gently, no tongue, no teeth, your hands innocently running along his shoulders and back as Jon held himself up with one hand and caressed the skin of your waist with the other. Nudging your nose with his in between each kiss, he pulled back to look at you, that intense greed not so close to the surface. Jon moved to partially lay beside you but leaned over enough so you were on your back still looking up at him, your legs intertwined with the other. His hand tracing your cheek as he leaned to kiss you softly again.

Your hand ran along his shoulder and up through his curls. “I love you.”

The smile was almost boyish that came over his face. A brightness back in the greys of his eyes as he muttered back, “I love you, more then anything. A year ago I still thought you were dead, now you're my wife.” A small huffing laugh like he was simply in disbelief.

“And you're King in the North. Finally home where you belong.”

Almost a bashful look came over him, your grin pulling a incredulous one from Jon as he rolled his eyes playfully. “Big home for just the two of us.” Your heart lightened but Jon just looked at you with an adoration as he felt lost in his own mind. “If we're lucky, this time next year maybe we'll have at least one more to add.”

Both of you laughing at how easily you slipped such a dry, “Oh, just one? Changed your mind?”

Jon looked at you once more before leaning down to kiss you, marking his way down your neck and collarbones, as you sighed out high pitched. Jon climbed back to rest between your legs, stopping his mouth at your breasts. Greedily grasping rough handfuls in both hands he groped the skin as his lips kissed around them before jumping with a bite to your nipples. Pulling a gasp and your legs failing to close now as they were on either side of his body.

You could feel the spark inside of you growing, you core feeling more like matches striking at it trying to ignite but still overwhelmed as you hissed at each rougher tug of his teeth. Just as you cried out at one did Jon relent, soothing your breasts in more of a caress before moving to pull your legs open more to fit his broad upper body.

Slinking his hand through his own seed covering your mound, Jon dragged two fingers through it before landing on your clit, rubbing tight, harsh circles into it that had your head arching back. Your core burned the touch and yet you couldn't decide if you needed more of less, but you trusted Jon to give you exactly what you needed. Rubbing rough and fast your orgasm snuck up on you suddenly, a tightening in your stomach that had you cry out.

Legs around Jon shaking just at the peak of you lungs stopping in desperation of on overwhelming pleasure swimming through you, Jon tugged your hips up to his mouth. Licking sloppily at your clit and down flat along your folds. Running that pattern up and down as if smearing what wetness you granted him to soak all over you, before he would taste it all for himself. Sucking at your clit making you jump with a surprised whine of an over stimulation.

But Jon licked and sucked more at your clit, holding your legs and moving them over his shoulders before grasping tight at your hips, as he ran his tongue just as his fingers did but he kept soaking you. Licking, a nibble of his teeth that had your back arching in sparks of need only to have him sooth it with a kiss before licking gently back down to your cunt where you were soaked.

His tongue running inside you, your breathe hitching even more as if no air would come to you, but Jon's hands were gentle and his tongue was precise. Knowing what made your insides twist like a burning coil, your hand gently running through his hair and none of it held the intensity of just before neither of you rushing towards an end this time.

Despite the cold air from the window blowing in you felt a thousand leagues warmer then you should have between the fire beside, the fur under and Jon between your legs you could feel sweat dampening your hair, stuttering breaths as you felt the coil twisting inside as Jon licked deep inside of you along a sensitive wall that almost made you feel something swell up like tears.

His hands on your hips tighter before finally yanking you to his mouth, soaking you as much as you were him. One hand changing paths, Jon reached up grasped at your breast, groping as the hand not in his hair held onto it, Jon licking sloppily along your cunt to your clit and back before burying his mouth inside you, twisting the hand on your breast to hold yours resting now in the space between them.

That burning pleasure tightened and tightened until the coil snapped and you were blinded by the light that had you arching your back and crying out Jon's name. Growling into your cunt more as your hands tightened in his hair until you were shaking from the sparks of pleasure still hitting you after. Rising up, Jon used that hand with yours to push it against the bed, keeping your fingers interlocked as he used his other hand now to align his cock with your soaking core.

Looking down at you, your eyes wide and red from tears begging to fall as you heaved for proper air Jon gave you one kiss before slowly sinking inside you. Not a single instance of resistance as his cock slid as deep inside of you as you could take him, clenching soaked, tight and warm around him he already throbbed inside of you with a groan. Burying his face in your neck as he slowly pulled out only enough to get halfway before needing to seek you out again.

Whatever show the open window let sounds out free to be heard with, was non existent in the reality of your own ears. Jon slowly thrusting in and out of you, face buried in your neck as the sounds from you were weak cries that you couldn't spare the energy to muster enough for. Only music for Jon it was what he could hear of how wet you were around him.

His other hand reaching up grab yours, and push the same down just on the other side of your head fingers intertwined as he kissed you. Tongue asking for gentle permission across your lips before brushing against yours, his kiss as sensually slow as his cock sliding in and out of you.

Pulling now out to almost completely outside of you and right back to as deep as you could get. His hands held yours tightly as his kiss grew more needy, a bit deeper and urgent as you clenched around him. His cock dragging along such a sensitive wall you were almost embarrassed it was causing you to soak him so much more.

Legs shaking around him, Jon slowly fucked right along that wall until you cried out against his lips, a beg for air and reprieve neither of which was granted to you. Fucking you slowly, until Jon had to start thrusting harder to get as deep when he had enough. Grunting he let go of your hands and snatched you up, surprising you as he flipped you both so he lay on his back.

You now more perched up in his lap, looking down at him your hands braced on his chest as you suddenly turned very flustered at the angle he was looking at you like. Lungs paused, not normally a position you found yourself in, but Jon's eye were bright and adoring as he looked up at you.

Finding your hips he guided you to hover back over his cock, your nervous eyes finding him as he husked out, “It's alright, darling. You're doing so well,” His grip slowly helping you sink down on his cock but from this angle he was deeper then ever, seated so fully inside of you if he came this deep inside you, you didn't know how you wouldn't find yourself with child in the morning. Groaning himself, Jons head flew back against the pillow as his eyes closed. Hands never leaving you, guiding you to move up and down his cock at his own strength and his own pace.

Moving you so that you were dragged along that sensitive wall against him as your eyes sealed closed with a stuttering breath. Airy voice as your nails dug into his chest as you moved slowly along with his hands moving you up and down. “You-fuck, Jon you feel so good, so, so good inside of me please..”

But Jon didn't speed you up or let you speed up. Just keeping you on a slow, overwhelming pace that had you feel every single inch of him every wet slide inside you. Dragging you along for his own ride that had your muscles burning and tingling, a fire amongst the wetness Jon sunk his cock inside.

A whine clawed it's way from your throat, begging his name but your eyes sealed closed trying to catch your breath with each thrust inside. Sitting up suddenly, Jon shifted you both so you were straddling his lap more, as one of his arms wrapped around behind you to keep you steady against him, the other holding onto your hip as he begun to move you a little harder against his cock.

Your hands reached for him, winding behind the back of his neck and up into his curls as finally the sounds of the room begun to slap together more as you moved with him bouncing on his cock with a more raw need. Tight around his neck, Jon took the arm behind your back and grasped at one of your breasts, tugging and twisting your nipple as you kissed him.

By each second you lips were exploring one another, Jon moved you harder up and down on his cock. A bigger yank to pull you onto him as you moved just as eagerly as the pace increased in speed. A steady sound smacking of your skin together and your cries grow more to quiet whines that stuttered with every single bounce on his cock.

Tugging somewhat at his hair, made Jon fuck up into you a little harder each time you did as he moved from your breast to keep your lips to his, a hand at the back of your head not that you wanted to go anywhere else. Let the fire of his desire burn through you until nothing was left but what you could offer his lips and his cock.

Faster and rougher, using both hands, yanked your hips up and down on his cock as the sound grew louder in volume and tempo. Holding onto one another tightly Jon felt you seize up in his arms the coarse hair around the base of his cock raw as it rubbed against your clit each time and just as your orgasm washed through you was it mixed with the hot seed spilling deep inside you. Balancing the other out as your legs almost widened around your straddling more almost desperate to feel such hot cum was tearing through you but kissing Jon meant you wanted no parting words over it.

But then he kept fucking you, kept bouncing you on his cock at the same speed and roughness. Instead of easing you back up he dove back in, the wetness graced his ears as music better then anything someone could come up with. Letting go of your lips, Jon looked up at your eyes, his own blown out and pitch black, now both his hands on and guiding your hips still. “Fuck, should never leave.” His voice a deep rasp, “Should stay like this together for good, keep you right here with me until I know I've given you a child..”

A faint moan came from your mouth as you felt that burn of desire again and Jon swallowed your cries into his kiss until you could compose a sentence.“Anything to make you happy..I promise...”

Nodding, he whispered up at you, “Then we stay here, right in our bed, however long it takes..” Your orgasm slipped past your notice as he was shallowly thrusting deep, seizing in his touch and around his cock before Jon groaned your name out too, spilling deep inside you again and yet he still was hard.

Kept fucking you, as you both wrapped your arms around the other as you felt tears for the pleasure setting you on fire only screaming for Jon, the world outside of him did not exist.

Once or twice you rested, Jon keeping you on your side more as he would gently move to tip a drink of water gently down for you, keep you with the right energy, but it wouldn't last. Jon would flip you once more onto your back as he took you more times then he or you could count.

For once, neither of you had any real dream of sorts and as you stayed wrapped up in each others close arms facing one another, Jon pulled you into his chest. Neither of you also had noticed that you both only fell asleep mere hours before the sun rose.

You fell into a slumber with no real thought, cunt burning and aching from Jon's cock, stomach thighs anything else painted with whatever cum you couldn't take deep. Your mind was safe and settled that night in Jon's arms, and Jon had no dreams to haunt him the same.

The only peace left in the brewing storms of the world at least was found in your bed, in Jon's arms.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine

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musings-of-a-rose · 4 months

Text

Falling Slowly - Chapter 11

Pairing: Tommy Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 5000+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: What started as a simple “wanting to make Tommy an actual daddy” turned into a whole ass fic. Is anyone really surprised? I absolutely adore Tommy and Daisy and would love to revisit them!

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The truck runs out of gas just inside of Teton County. We gather up our packs, keeping our guns loose in our hands but ready, as we march through the woods. Tommy had found a paper map of Wyoming, noticing that there was a small notation of a hydroelectric dam on it. He's convinced that this settlement will be near there and I admit, that's a great place to start looking.

We don't make it within 20 miles of that plant before horses and riders come from nowhere, immediately surrounding us, their faces masked. Tommy puts his arms out to shield us, knowing that there was no way he could shoot them all.

"What are you doing out here?" A man bellows at us, his horse snuffing, a swirl of air puffing out from his nose in the cool, fall breeze.

"We heard there may be a settlement around here. We're looking for a place to call home."

"You know anything about dams?" A woman speaks up from behind the first man.

"I uh, I was in construction. I know some things. I can take a look."

She stares at him from behind her mask, weighing our usefulness. "And them?"

"My wife can grow anything. And has some medical knowledge. My son..helps her."

Several long moments pass. I can't get a read on them. If they are from this settlement, I can't really blame them for being so selective. And secretive.

"You come here on foot?"

"For the last 50 or so miles. We had a truck. Still works, but no gas."

She nods. "Stash it?"

Tommy nods. "Just in case we needed it again."

"Smart man. Alright, you guys come back to town with us."

They offered us horses, which Jax hopped on immediately, his whole face lighting up with excitement. It had been years since he was able to ride. I'm still on the fence about trusting them. After a while, we see their gates in the distance, a little shotty and in need of, well, Tommy's expertise. But that's not what holds my attention.

"Is your town named Jackson?" Jax asks the woman.

She nods. "It is."

Jax laughs, a sound I hadn't heard in a very long time. "That's my name! Must be a sign, right mom?"

The gates open and I'm rendered speechless. It's a town. A whole ass town. People are milling about like everything is normal. The woman, Maria, starts to give us a tour, pointing out the town hall, the bar, clothing swap and repair, and little general stores. She takes us around and shows us the barns, slots for at least 40 horses, the herd of sheep, and the dairy cows and goats. Jax practically comes unglued from the Earth when seeing everything. Maria smiles at his excitement.

"You're 17, right?" Jax nods. "Well I think you should still attend school. At least to just get to know the other kids. But your official duty, in my opinion, should be with the animals. What do you think?"

"Yeah! Dad, is that ok?" Jax clings to Tommy's arm and he smiles patting his hand.

"Yeah, of course, bud."

Jax whoops and punches the sky, immediately apologizing to the chickens that had started frantically clucking and running around their enclosure.

But what really impressed me was our house, an actual house. Maria stopped in front of this beautiful 3 bedroom, two story house, complete with a front porch. It was like stepping into a time machine. They had cleaned all of the houses and kept them maintained, but the decor was exactly the same as it was on outbreak day 14 years ago.

Jax picked a room once belonging to a teenage boy, judging from the decor. We quickly unpacked our things and headed into town, getting a hot, fresh meal and trying not to overstuff ourselves. They gave us a small ration of food to take home, a carton of eggs, some flour, salt, yeast, honey, a carton of milk, and, much to Tommy's delight, a small container of coffee.

I was afraid that all of the time spent just growing up around us, and then on the constant move with the Fireflies would make it difficult for Jax to make friends.

I couldn't be more wrong.

Immediately, the kids from town were fascinated by Jax, asking him tons of questions about the outside, about him. He eventually takes off with them, going to movie night at the community center.

Tommy and I walk back home, his arm around my shoulder, tucking me into his side. "That kid made fast friends."

"I was so worried about that. Guess I didn't need to be."

"Nah. He's a good kid and they can see that."

We stop for a moment outside of our house, looking up at it. "This was a good move, Mr. Miller. I like it here."

I turn to look at him and he smiles, pressing his lips to mine briefly before we head inside, the early fall chill on the wind making us shiver slightly. Tommy starts to unpack the food while I take a quick shower, groaning as the hot water sends goosebumps across my skin. I hadn't had a proper hot shower since we'd left the cabin.

I lay on the bed wrapped only in my towel, finally allowing myself to relax for the first time in...years. I can't remember how many at this point. Tommy comes in and wolfwhistles at me and I try, and fail, to hide my smirk.

"Looks like they left a present for me on the bed," Tommy chuckles, attempting to sit next to me. I put my foot out to stop him.

"Nuh uh. Take a shower first, stinky."

He looks fake hurt, putting a hand to his chest. "How dare you, I smell delightful."

"Yeah to a group of flies."

He pretends to storm off in mock anger, shedding his clothes as he goes. He stays a bit longer in the shower than I thought he would, but I can't blame him. That hot water is too much of a lure. He comes out, towel wrapped around his waist, his hair wet and curling. His incision is healed by now, a small red line all that's left of the metal that nearly took his life. Tommy lays next to me on the bed and I curl into his side.

"Hey, darlin? I know you're all clean and sexy and naked next to me, and I so want to have my way with you. But do you think it could wait until morning?"

"Oh thank God - I'm so exhausted."

We both chuckle and burrow into the blankets, talking for a bit when we hear Jax come in, closing the door to the bathroom and taking a shower.

I haven't felt this safe in years.

An electrified warmth, pulsing out from between my legs yanks me from sleep and I moan, my hands moving down and finding Tommy's head between my legs, his face pressed into me. My fingers grip his dark curls and I tug, loving the sound he makes when I do.

"Fucking hell, Tommy. Warn a girl."

He chuckles and my hips jolt. "Alright, well I'm warning you now, my beautiful wife. I'm not done with you yet."

Tommy makes good on his promise, sliding into me with practiced ease, my body taking him in greedily, responding to every touch, every kiss and nip. He digs his fingers into my hip, slowly moving me in time with his hips, angling himself to go deeper, hitting that spot that has me gasping his name, my fingernails digging into his broad back. His hips sputter, his head drops to my shoulder as be bites it, filling me with his warmth. He picks up his head, his nose lightly dragging across my face before kissing me.

"I fuckin' love you, Mrs. Miller."

"I fucking love you, Mr. Miller."

Life in Jackson is good. We're all kept busy but a natural busy, not a frantic "is this the moment when we all die" busy. Jax settles in beautifully, finishing their school and learning more about animals and their care as he works with them. About a year in, he finally asks out the girl he had been crushing on since we got here, Lara and, a year later, they're already talking about marriage. Young love.

Tommy helps to fortify the walls, manging to tinker with the dam and get it fully operational. He admits he had virtually no idea what he was doing. He just banged his wrench around and it eventually turned on. He joins patrols too, but mostly stays inside the gates, making repairs and fortifications.

I help a little old lady named Lu with the garden. I had brought some medicinal herbs with us and we were able to propagate some more from the clippings, which works out great for the clinic.

New people do show up, but it's rare. Jackson is fairly secluded, and Maria pretty much forbids anyone from giving away our location. I can't blame her. If everyone knew about this place, it would be overrun in a heartbeat, our supplies spent. Not to mention the clickers that would likely follow a crowd that large.

But today is one of those days. Maria radioed in that 3 new people were coming into Jackson, and to ready the clinic. The doctor there called me in to help, as I often did when she needed it. She told me what to prep and I realized whomever is coming, one of them must be pregnant.

"Imagine trapsing this lanscape, pregnant," The doctor said, no trace of malice to her voice. A little pity and awe though.

The clinic door opens and the doctor greets the people. I turn around and drop the tray I'm holding.

Sarah. Sarah is standing in the clinic.

A man stands next to her and on her other side-

Rose.

Rose and Sarah are alive and here.

"Sarah?" I choke out and her head snaps up, her round belly on prominent display.

"Aunt Daisy?"

"Holy fuck!" Rose gasps and I run to them, pulling them both into as tight of an embrace as I can manage, tears streaming down my face. I feel theirs as well. But when a small kick hits my stomach, I back up, apologizing to Sarah.

"Ah I'm sorry! I forgot! Come, the doctor will take a look." Sarah grips my hand, lacing our fingers together.

"Come with me?"

"Of course."

Sarah turns out fine, about 7 months along. She could do with a warm meal, some water, and a good shower. Sarah introduced me to her boyfriend, or husband, the second they can find someone who will marry them. He's a sweet boy by the name of Eli. We head over to the cafe and I point out all the places to Sarah and Rose and Eli. Once they get seated with food, I head outside, a smile on my face as I run to the stables. Tommy will be there with Jax, as he's repairing a broken stable door. I run, full on run to the stables, sliding inside the barn and coming to a stop in front of them, gasping for air.

"Mom! Mom, is everything ok?" Jax drops his hammer and puts his hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah...yes..." I take a few more deep breaths of air. "Sarah..and Rose...are here."

Once they get settled in a house, conveniently across the street from ours, we bring them over for some hot tea. Sarah sips on hers, a little moan coming from her as it warms her up.

"So...how did..where is..."

Rose and Sarah exchange a look and I don't like it. Sarah nods at Rose and takes another sip of her drink.

"We stayed another year or so after you left. They seemed to buy the story at first, that you had all gone out on some family thing and just...never came back. It happens. But Joel suspected that they were getting suspicious. So he said we needed a way out, to find the Fireflies so we could find you. They demanded Joel go on a long run with them, taking them somewhere up above Maryland."

"Maryland??"

Rose nods. "Yeah, that's what I said. Anwyay, Joel said he'd go but we had to go with and that we were off limits. Well... nothing happened but some guys were being creeps and that finally tipped Joel over the edge. He killed the guy in his sleep and we left on foot. We were heading towards Boston. There's a qz up there. We figured we could find out where you were from there. We had to cross this bridge. But they caught up with us and the bridge couldn't hold everything. Not with all the old cars on it and it not being upkept for years. The bridge went down and..." Tears poured from Rose's eyes, silent ones pouring down Sarah's cheeks as well.

"Joel?" Tommy asks, barely a whisper.

Eli speaks up. "I wasn't there, but they told me." He puts his hand on Sarah's giving it a little squeeze. "The bridge collpased. Took out the raiders and they nearly died too. But they looked for Joel for days. Couldn't find him. I'm so sorry."

I started to cry, but it was less about the loss of Joel, whom I loved like a brother, and more for Tommy, who looked like he had lost a limb. He got up and walked out the backdoor, slamming it behind him. I followed him, gently pulling him to me as he crumbled against my chest, gripping my shirt as he wailed over the loss of his big brother.

We eventually learned that Rose and Sarah ended up in a different qz than Boston, which is where Sarah met Eli. He was FEDRA but hated them, supporting the citizens in any way he could, even if that meant turning a blind eye to some insider trading. He and Sarah fell in love, but shortly after, the qz got violent, the people rising up against FEDRA. They managed to escape, Sarah finding out she was pregnant a few weeks later.

Eli had some Firefly connections, so they headed to their posts, eventually figuring out that we had left the Fireflies and relocated "somewhere in Teton County, Wyoming." And so they came here, hoping to find us. And being completely surprised to find Jackson City.

Sarah gives birth to a beautiful baby girl, Juniper, with her eyes, Joel's eyes. As Juniper grows, her hair becomes this beautiful carbon copy of her mother's, her curls bouncing away. Eli is a fantastic father and husband, always by his family's side.

Jax and Lara move in together and get married, Lara getting pregnant a short while after.

"I don't know if I'm ready to be a grandma," I say to Tommy while I look in the mirror. "Although I do have the greys."

"You'll be the hottest grandma I know." Tommy waggles his eyebrows as he pulls me to him, his tongue pressing against mine.

"If I'm a grandma, that means you'll be a grandpa."

Tommy looks shocked. "Holy shit. You're right. You still gonna wanna kiss this old man?"

My fingers wind in his shirt, pulling him down to me as I speak against his lips. "That's not all I'll do for this old man."

"Tree! Tree, mommy!" Juniper jumps up and down, yanking on Sarah's coat as she pushes back from our table, shoving the last bite of egg in her mouth.

"Yes baby. We're going to see the Christmas tree. You guys coming?"

Juniper looks up at Tommy with her big eyes. "Great Uncle Tommy coming?"

"Sorry, kiddo. Not today. I gotta fix the barn roof before the big snows come in." Juniper sticks out her lip. "But I'll see you tonight for hot chocolate?"

She thinks, her little finger tapping her lips. "Ok!" She yanks on Sarah's coat again, half jerking her towards the front door.

"See you tonight, Aunt Daisy?"

"Yup. I'll have cookies too."

"Yay!" Juniper yells from the doorway. Sarah and her leave, the house considerably quieter when they do.

"Crazy to think that in a few months, there will be another little one running around here."

"Yeah. I can't wait."

"Me neither."

Tommy kisses me before heading off to the barns, finishing up the last of the roof work. The last snow storm took off some of the panels and so it needs to be repaired before the next big storm or we may lose a horse or 2.

Tommy walks back in 10 minutes later. "Forgot my work gloves."

"How did you forget those, Mr. Construction?"

"I got distracted looking at your ass."

"How dare you, good sir. I am a lady."

Tommy walks up to me, pressing his body to mine. "A lady that I had bent over this table last night."

I slap his chest playfully before kissing him again. "Oh wait. I'll walk with you. I got to pick up a couple things for the cookies."

Tommy walks me a few blocks, intending on turning left to head to the barn while I continued on to the main strip. But then we hear yelling, just making out Sarah's name. Tommy and I glance at each other, immediately anticipating the worst as we run towards the wailing sound. We come out of a side ally onto the main strip, half a block away from the Christmas tree. And there, at the bottom of the tree is Sarah, crying her eyes out, her body desperately holding onto someone. No, wait.

"Joel?" Tommy says next to me in disbelief. But then their bodies shift, and there he is. Joel, with his mop of now grey hair, grasping onto the daughter he undoubtedly thought he'd lost.

Tommy runs as fast as he can over to them, Sarah pulling him down into their embrace. Juniper, who had been standing there holding her mom's other hand, immediately jumps on Tommy and hugs him, her little fists digging into his arms. I walk up, wiping tears from my eyes and, to my surprise, Joel looks up at me and pulls me down to him, hugging me as tight as he can.

"I thought you were all dead," He says it so quietly in my ear, but I can hear the wobble in his voice.

"We're here. We're all..." I turn my head, looking into the small crowd of people. "Someone get Rose. Now!"

Joel snaps back from me, his eyes boring into mine. "Rose is here?"

I smile at him. "Yeah she fucking is!"

Suddenly his eyes look over my shoulder and I see the shift in them, know he sees Rose, and I know that feeling. The one of loss and relief, the pain that causes in your heart. Joel tries to stand but it's too late - Rose is there, dropping into his lap as she clings to him, tears streaming down her cheeks. He pulls back, cupping her face, his eyes roaming over hers.

"You're real?"

Rose nods. "Are you?"

He pulls her to him, their lips meeting and I look away, giving them a moment of privacy, marveling at the fact that our family is somehow together, at the other end of the country, even all these years later.

As it turns out, Joel was not traveling alone. Ellie is spunky, full of attitude, keeping Joel on his toes. I love her already.

Tommy told me later about exactly why Joel and Ellie were here, what secret Ellie was carrying. That he has to bring her to the Fireflies so they can try and make a cure, an actual cure.

"And you think they can do that? They have the resources?"

Tommy shrugs, pulling his shirt over his head and exposing his bronzed skin, freckles spattered about, along with several scars. He starts to rummage through his dresser drawer, looking for a shirt to sleep in.

"Joel seems to think so."

"Hhhmm. I bet Rose will have something to say about it."

"She probably will."

I walk up to him, lightly brushing my fingers across his back. My arms slide around him as I press kisses into his back. He hums, his arms folding over mine. The warmth radiates out from his body and seeps into mine, relaxing me but also heating me up for very different reasons. I slowly move my hand down, dipping under the waistband of his sweatpants.

"And here I thought you said you were a lady." Tommy sucks in a breath after that last word, my fingers encircling him, slowly pumping him as he hardens in my grip.

"I want you to do un-ladylike things to me."

"Yes, ma'am."

He pulls my hand from his pants with a groan, from which of us I'm not sure. I turn to walk towards the bed and yelp, Tommy's hand lightly slapping my ass. He chuckles as I look fake shocked. I turn to him, my hand on my chest.

"How dare you sir! Ah!" He somehow reaches around me, slapping me on the other cheek, the shit eating grin on his face lighting up the room. He presses his lips to mine, but I'm not making it that easy. I pull back, turning to walk or run away, I'm not sure. But I know I'm not fast enough, Tommy's arms pulling me to him, caging me against his broad chest. One arm wraps around my chest, the other sliding into my panties. He moans as his fingers sink into me.

"Fuck, is this for me?"

"It's always for you, Tommy."

He continues to touch me, using his other hand to turn my head up, swallowing my moans with his kiss. The air electrifies and the mood shifts, both of us suddenly very desperate for the other. He pulls his hand from me and pushes me onto the bed, helping me to yank my panties down. They never make it off, just shoved down somewhere around my knees as he hikes my shirt over my hips. I'm already angling my body, my chest against the bed, Tommy's fingers digging into my hips as he gets into position. He pushes forward and I can't help the gutteral whine that erupts from somewhere within me, louder and more primal as his hips rut against me.

"My wife, the lady, begging me to fuck her."

I'm seeing colors now, my fingers twisting into the sheets to get some sort of purchase so I can push my hips back, driving him deeper.

"T-Tommy," It comes out more like a plea, a whimper of his name. But he knows me well, knows my body sometimes better than I do.

"I got you, darlin'."

He pulls me up, holding me against his chest again, one arm wrapped around me and one hand between my legs, touching me where it makes my legs shake.

"Come for me, baby," his voice rasps in my ear, low and sultry. And I do, I come hard, pulsing around him, his name chanting from my lips as I watch the colors dance around my vision. His hand stalls for a moment before pushing me back down, laying his body over mine as he continues to fuck into me a few more times before he comes, groaning and biting my back. He takes several breaths before pulling out, cleaning us both up before plopping back down on the bed. I scoot in next to him a minute later and he pulls me to his side, lifting my jaw with his finger to gently kiss me.

"You definitely know how to treat a lady."

Joel and Ellie leave the next morning, much to our dislike. Tommy knew they were leaving, of course he did. I guess it makes sense. Less people out in winter time, less chance of a confrontation. Still, it made me uneasy and I wish they'd stay at least until spring.

What surprised me most was that Rose stayed behind. She was not happy by the looks of it, but she still showed her love to Joel, Ellie clearing her throat and looking anywhere but them.

"Listen, Ellie. I know we don't really know each other, but I want you to know, you'll always have a home here. Ok? No hesitation." I may have only met her yesterday, but I really liked this kid. She gave Joel the crap he needed and that won her all the points she needed in my book.

"Thanks. I'll probably just stay there in case they need more blood. But it's good to know." She gives me a quick, slightly awkward hug before nodding to Tommy and Sarah, who had just come walking up to the stables where we all stood.

"I can come with you, you know?" Sarah asked her dad when he pulled back from Rose.

"No, you can't. You have my granddaughter to take care of."

Sarah hugs him tight, and I swear I can see a tiny glint of a tear in Joel's eyes, his head slightly turned as he breathes her in, having thought he'd never be able to hold his daughter again.

"But I just got you back."

"I know, baby girl. I know. But this is important. You know I wouldn't go if it wasn't."

Sarah nods against his chest before pulling back, wiping tears from her eyes. She stands between Rose and me, watching Joel pull Ellie up into the saddle. Rose moves forward, brushing away some stray dirt on his pant leg and he leans down, kissing her once more.

"Remember what I told you, Joel."

"I will. I love you, baby."

"I love you too."

Winter progresses, Lara getting further along in her pregnancy leaving Jax looking utterly lost as to how to help her.

"Just get her whatever she asks for and make sure to rub her feet. Oh! And when her belly gets big, stand behind her and lift it up. Your mom loved that."

"I just hated it when you had to stop."

Jax's smile fades and he turns serious. "I'm just afraid this one won't stick, too."

I cup his face. "Oh baby, sometimes these things happen. It just wasn't meant to be. But I'm sure this one will be running around and calling me grandma in no time."

Thank God I was right. Lara has her baby just as the winter snows start to melt, a beautiful little girl they name Emma, after Lara's sister who died saving her on outbreak day. She immediately has Jax wrapped around her little finger.

Our house is loud again, baby sounds echoing off the wood boards. I couldn't be happier. Tommy feels the same, his face lighting up whenever he gets to see Emma.

"I always feel like we're imposing," Lara confesses as she rocks Emma to sleep.

"Never. You are never imposing. Even if you just need a moment for yourself, you bring her right over," I assure her.

"Thanks, Mrs. Mil-I mean, Daisy. Sorry, that's still weird to say."

The false spring ends, the final snows melting away as flowers and trees bloom. Tommy and I walk arm in arm down main street, intending on having a quick bite to eat at the restaurant before heading back to work. There's a small commotion at the main gate before it opens slightly. Tommy stops, pressing his hand above his eyes to shield them from the bright sun.

"Holy shit. It's Joel and Ellie."

We jog up to them, embracing them both. Something is different. Off, a little. I can tell something happened, but they're both back and safe and that's what we focus on. We head right into the clinic, Rose running and jumping into Joel's arms. He kisses her hard before setting her down, where she promptly breaks the kiss and punches his arm as hard as she can.

"Ow."

"Joel Miller, if you ever leave me again, I will find you and kill you myself. Do you understand me?"

A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "Yes, ma'am."

We take Ellie for a meal, allowing Joel and Rose some time to themselves. She's a little quieter than normal, shoving food around her plate for a bit before eating.

"Hey. Everything ok?" I ask, trying to put no pressure on the question.

She shrugs. "Yeah. I guess I'm just disappointed things didn't work out."

I hesitate for a moment before grabbing her hand and squeezing it. "You are fucking brave for even trying it. You're a bad ass."

She chuckles. "A bad ass?"

"Hell yeah!"

She shifts a little in her chair before resuming eating, a little more eager than before. I'm not sure what what on between here and Salt Lake, but I hope they can both come to terms with it. I'm sure they will.

Emma sits on her father's lap, happily chewing on some food we'd cut for her from the absolute feast we've put together. Everyone is here, Jax and Lara and Emma, Eli and Juniper and Sarah, who is rounder than ever with their second child. Joel and Rose and Ellie, who asked to bring her new friend Dina along. We all sit at a big table out back, the late summer air warm but cooling as the sun sets whispering through the trees. The laughter is loud and smiles are all around as we all sit and chat long into the night. I push my chair against Tommy's, leaning my head on his chest as he wraps his arms around me. As I look out at everyone I can't help but be amazed and grateful that we're all here together, after all this life has thrown us, in this little corner of the world.

And how different my life would've been if some random drunk didn't hit on me at that bar, so many years ago.

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skyward-floored · 2 months

Text

The cat’s out of the bag chapter 6

Fight time babey!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52017334/chapters/145974010

Chapter 5 | Next (coming soon)

————————————————————

Twilight and the others bolted through the woods, Legend at the helm with Wind clinging tight to his shoulder. Twilight was running beside them, dodging stray roots and slippery leaves, and listening carefully for whatever it was that Wind had heard.

He heard nothing but their footsteps though, and anxiety twisted through him as they ran.

Had Wind heard Sky? Monsters? Something else entirely?

They could have stopped and tried to figure it out from Wind’s meows, but they didn’t have time to waste. Sky didn’t have time to waste.

He’d been missing for over a day now, and Twilight knew his mind wasn’t the only one running rampant with possibilities, all of them bad. The scene behind them haunted him, the blood on the ground and gouges in the trees, and he pushed himself to run even faster.

Twilight heard Four puffing behind him as the ground began to slope upwards, the trees thinning out. The sound of water faintly hit his ears, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly where it was coming from. All he knew was that they were moving up onto a small ridge of some kind, and the ground was getting rockier and more difficult to run on.

Legend suddenly flung out an arm to stop Twilight, and he froze, looking at the spot where Legend was pointing.

A group of monsters, dead ahead.

They were just close enough for them to see, the beasts gathered on a rocky outcropping. The group appeared to mostly be lizalfos-looking things, a few taller ones in the back with deadly-looking axes. Some tektites were scattered around as well, or at least what Twilight assumed were tektites based on the long legs, along with a single moblin he recognized from Wild’s era.

Legend pulled him back a little so they wouldn’t be seen through the sparse cover, and Twilight frowned at the beasts as the other Links caught up to them.

“Monsters,” he said, and Wind let out a soft hiss. “Organized ones. The same from the clearing?”

“No, these look fresh,” Warriors said, eyes narrowed as he counted. “No injuries or blood on them. And no sign of Sky. Must be a different group.”

“Should we fight them? Or just sneak past?” Four asked, slightly out of breath, and Time hummed, studying them.

“There aren’t too many... if they’re infected they’ll give us trouble though. And I’ll admit I don’t know all of those beasts. Traveler?”

Hyrule looked at the group of monsters, grimacing. “Not a good group to fight when we’re down two swords. Those two tall ones at the back there, those are Dairas, they’re bad news. And except for the tektites, the rest are smart enemies as well. I’ve... never seen a group like this outside of dungeons.”

“Might be wise to avoid them for now, then. We’re pressed on time, and we can always hunt them down again once we find Sky,” Warriors said.

Hyrule nodded. “There isn’t anyone around for them to attack anyway, except for us. We’re a long way from any settlements.”

Twilight nodded with the rest of them, and studied the terrain.

They were in a thin strip of forest at the moment, a steep upward slope to their right, the rocky cliff with the monsters to their left. If the beasts saw them, there wouldn’t be many places to run or fight... at least not easily. Twilight looked at the cliff with a frown, and Wild joined him, craning his neck to try and get a better look at it.

“Is it a long drop that way?” Wild asked, tilting his head towards the cliff. Hyrule made a so-so gesture.

“If I’m remembering correctly, it could be worse, but it isn’t great. The river loops around below, but it’s not very deep, and pretty rocky.”

“So it wouldn’t end well. Gotcha,” Legend said as he and Wind both studied the area. “Avoid the monsters, avoid the cliff, and we’ll be just fine.”

Hopefully, Twilight thought with a grimace. If they were seen, this had the potential to be a messy battle. Not to mention the problem of keeping Wind safe if something happened...

Twilight glanced at him, but the sailor didn’t seem bothered at the possibility of a fight, just worried about Sky. Twilight almost asked him to move to his shoulder, but then he remembered his promise to be less overbearing, and overprotective.

So he took a deep breath in, and then let it out, trying to expel all of his worries along with it. They would be fine. Wind would probably fare better than most of them if there was a fight actually, since he could easily run and hide.

Not that he would want to do either of those things.

The Links began to prepare to sneak, and Twilight set his thoughts aside as they all muffled armor and put away noisy accessories. He watched as Wild slipped a mask over his face beside him, tying his hair up into a bun, and Warriors glanced at him in confusion.

“...Why are you doing that, Champion?”

Wild looked at Warriors as if that was the stupidest question he’d heard all day. “Makes me sneakier. Duh.”

“...I won’t question how putting your hair up makes you sneakier. Or covering your mouth, for that matter.”

“It keeps him from running it,” Legend said with a smarmy grin, and Wild elbowed him.

“Enough, let’s go. No noise,” Time warned, already having padded his armor in key places to quiet its clanking. “And keep an eye out for any sign of our missing knight.”

The other Links nodded, and they began to file quietly through the undergrowth, keeping crouched low to the ground. Hyrule led the line, showing those behind him the quietest places to step, and Time held up the rear, making sure nobody got behind. Wind stayed hunched on Legend’s shoulder, his tail twitching with anxiety, and Legend gave his head a quick scratch.

Twilight followed behind the two, avoiding crumbly rocks and wishing he could transform. He’d be able to sneak so much easier if he had the abilities of a wolf. He might even be able to sneak ahead and cause a distraction so the others could slip by undetected.

He never thought he’d miss the option to turn into a beast so much.

A bird cawing in the branches above them had everyone tense, but the monsters didn’t seem to care, only giving a glance their direction before returning to whatever it was they were doing. Hyrule had them remain motionless a moment longer than necessary, then waved them on with a tense look.

Twilight sighed quietly in relief, and they continued, crawling through the leaf litter.

Ignoring the fact that they were sneaking around a group of bloodthirsty monsters that were likely infected, it was actually a rather nice afternoon. The sun was well on its way to setting, golden sunshine spilling through the trees. Tiny pink flowers poked up through the rocks to catch the last hour or two of sun for the day, and their sweet perfume occasionally tickled Twilight’s nose.

And Wind’s, apparently.

Legend crawled right by a patch of flowers, pollen floating into the air when he brushed against them, and Wind stiffened, his nose and whiskers twitching. Before Twilight could try to figure out what was up, the little sailor let out a huge, sniveling, cat sneeze.

And then three more in rapid succession, all louder than the previous.

Everyone froze, and Twilight looked at the monsters, one of the Dairas staring directly at the bushes where they were crouched.

Its snout scrunched up as it sniffed the air, and Twilight held his breath as it skulked closer, claws gripping its axe. The other Links put their hands on their weapons as it leaned towards the shrub where Legend and Wind were sheltering behind, and Twilight tensed, prepared to leap out and attack first.

Wild beat him to it.

Right as the Daira’s eyes landed on Legend and Wind, an arrow embedded itself right in its forehead, making it rear backwards with a howl. The other monsters immediately noticed, and Warriors shouted for them to attack while they were still surprised.

The Links exploded out of the bushes and began to fight, alarmed cries from the monsters ringing through the air. Twilight went for the daira Wild had shot, and it snarled, black blood dripping down its face. Somehow the headshot hadn’t killed it.

Their weapons clashed, a loud screech of metal against metal making Twilight’s ears hurt. They strained for a moment, Twilight actually sliding back in the dirt a little, but then he managed to push back and slash at the monster’s shoulder.

It howled in anger as more blood spread across its scales, beady eyes glaring at Twilight. It raised its arm back to throw its axe at him, and Twilight scrambled for his shield.

Wild came in the clutch again though, shooting an arrow in a gap in its armor near the daira’s shoulder. It turned towards him with a furious screech, but Twilight took the opportunity to lunge forward and separate its head from its body.

Blood sprayed as it fell, but Twilight didn’t waste time watching, turning towards the rest of the battle. It was a messy affair, monster blood making the rocks slippery, axes flying and tektites leaping down upon them. Twilight was only looking for one thing though, and as he held his shield up to block a stray axe, his heart pounded sickeningly.

Where was Wind?

A screech rang through the air, and Twilight saw Wind still clinging to Legend’s shoulder, serving as a pair of eyes for the back of his head. A lizalfos had tried to sneak up on the veteran while he was busy with some tektites, but Wind had given him enough warning to whirl around and defend himself.

Twilight sighed in relief, and ran towards the cliff where Time was fighting two lizalfos by himself. Legend was keeping Wind safe, the veteran would do a good job.

Going back-to-back with Time, Twilight fought the monstrous lizards together with him, slipping easily into a pattern of movement. Time would jump and Twilight would thrust, Twilight would dodge and Time would use the opening he’d been given.

They were steadily wearing the beasts down, and Time finally shouted for him to duck, and Twilight did, his mentor whirling into a spin attack that stunned both lizalfos.

Twilight sprang back up and killed the one he’d been focusing on, but the other managed to avoid Time’s strike. Twilight moved to help him, then lunged out of the way as the other daira threw an axe at his face.

Time took a hit on his cheek, but before Twilight could panic, he sprang forward and killed the lizalfos despite the blood on his face. Twilight glared back at the daira as it raised its arm again, but when an arrow just barely missed its neck, it abruptly turned and threw it a different direction.

Right at Wild, who couldn’t move fast enough to avoid it.

The axe hit Wild’s shoulder with a sickening thud, and he went down with a cry, red already visible on his tunic.

Twilight’s blood went cold.

“Wild!” he shouted in a panic, but before he could run to the champion, something else went flying towards him.

He ducked just in time, and looked behind him to see a tektite go flying off the cliff, its legs waving frantically. Twilight stared, then looked back at where it had come from, and saw a tektite in the moblin’s grasp, its arm winding back. It threw another tektite at Twilight, which he dodged, and he watched this one also fall down the cliff and land in the river below with a distant splash.

The moblin was throwing tektites at them.

Oh come on!

“Champion’s down!” Twilight yelled, dodging tektites as he made his way towards the moblin. “Can anyone get to him?!”

“Got it!” Four shouted back, already on his way, and Twilight watched in relief as the smithy made it to the bush where Wild had collapsed. He knew Four had healing items on him, Wild would be fine. Please let him be fine.

Twilight watched Four for a little too long though, and something slammed into him, throwing him to the rocky ground with a grunt.

A tektite had landed on his chest, and Twilight swung at it, but the bug jumped out of the way. He growled and tried to get up to go after it, but the tektite jumped on him again, slamming him back down against the rocks.

Twilight glared up at it as his head throbbed, his back aching from the abuse it had suffered. Right as he was about to try something different, a sword tore through the bug, knocking it off of his chest and killing it at the same time.

Legend stood above him with a hand outstretched, and Twilight gladly took it with a nod of thanks. Wind meowed a greeting, still looking unharmed to Twilight’s relief, but he didn’t have time to talk to the two of them.

Something went flying towards Legend’s neck from behind, and Twilight lunged to pull him down, an axe coming so close to their heads that Twilight felt the air displace as it went by.

A snarl of anger rang through the air as Twilight and Legend scrambled to their feet, and Wind got a determined look on his face. Twilight didn’t like the look of that, but there were too many tektites and axes flying towards him to follow Wind when he suddenly leapt off of Legend’s shoulder and took off across the battlefield.

“Wind you idiot! Get back here!” Legend shouted, but Wind ignored him, slipping past monsters and darting between legs.

Twilight lost sight of him in mere seconds, and he and Legend exchanged exasperated looks. What was Wind thinking?

He’s going to get himself killed running off like that! All it’ll take is for a stray axe or a lizalfos swinging its tail the wrong direction and he’ll be—

A roar interrupted his thoughts, and Twilight lunged out of the way of the moblin that was bearing down on them. Legend had dodged the other direction, and they both swung their swords at the same time, trying to land a hit.

The moblin took both of their strikes with barely a flinch though, and Twilight had to lunge out of the way of another axe from the daira that nearly took his head off.

We don’t have time for this, Wind needs—

Legend took a hit from the moblin and fell backwards with a gasp, a hand pressed to his middle. He wasn’t bleeding, but he’d been hit hard enough that he was having trouble standing up. Twilight could hear him wheezing from here.

The moblin roared in excitement, and Twilight bolted over to Legend, standing between him and the moblin, and... sheathing his sword.

Legend wheezed something that sounded vaguely like “what on earth are you doing you numbskull”, but Twilight remained in front of him as the moblin eagerly ran forward, watching the distance intently.

Wait for it... wait for it...

The moblin was feet away and already pulling back to deal a deadly blow, thinking Twilight was defenseless, but Twilight was in the perfect position to perform one even more deadly.

He drew his sword in a move so fast nobody watching would have been able to follow it, and slashed the moblin from shoulder to hip moments before he himself would have been struck.

The moblin gurgled, then fell to the ground with a thud, already fading into shadow.

Twilight breathed out, and forced himself not to look at Time as he heard the Shade’s voice in his head.

The mortal draw deals death.

“...Wow,” Legend wheezed, and Twilight turned and offered him a hand up in a mirrored action of earlier. “I... want to learn that.”

“Maybe,” Twilight said with a faint smile, then remembered Wind. “Where’s the sailor?”

Legend and Twilight began scanning the battlefield again, slightly less chaotic with the monsters dwindling, and tektites no longer flying everywhere. Twilight finally spotted the lithe form of Wind slipping around some rocks near the cliff edge, and he squinted, relieved that he didn’t seem hurt.

He was less relieved when he snuck up onto a taller rock right next to the remaining daira, though.

The daira didn’t notice Wind and wound back to throw an axe at Warriors, who was bolting for Wild since Four had shouted for assistance. Before the daira could attack him or anyone else though, Wind launched himself at its arm, clinging to its scales and biting down.

Hard.

The monster howled and swung at him, but Wind didn’t let go, biting down even harder as the Daira flailed. It raised its axe again, but Wind merely let go of its arm and threw himself at its face, making it screech in rage.

It snapped at him with its teeth, and Twilight shouted, trying to get to the two. There were too many rocks and enemies between him and Wind though, and all Twilight and Legend could do was watch as the Daira tore Wind off its face, snarling with hatred.

Wind snarled back and bit the monster’s hand again, making it shriek. It whipped its hand around, frantically trying to dislodge Wind, and Twilight watched almost in slow-motion as it stepped backward, slipping on a loose rock.

The Daira cried out as it fell backwards towards the cliff, and Wind tried to scramble out of its grip, his determination switched abruptly to fear as he let out a frantic meow.

Twilight bolted for him and the Daira, shouting for Wind. Legend sliced at monsters with no mercy as they both charged forward, and Twilight’s heart pounded in his throat as he ran.

Wind, get loose, come on Wind please, get loose—

The daira teetered on the edge, scrambling to keep its balance and not fall, but it had slipped too far. It must have realized it wasn’t going to be able to save itself, and instead it grabbed Wind with both hands, stopping him from escaping and screeching in victory as they both tipped backwards off the cliff.

The last thing Twilight saw before the sailor went over the edge were two frantic blue eyes meeting his.

Then he was gone.

“WIND!”

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu wind #lu twilight #linked universe fanfic #kitty wind #tw blood #tw injury #fic #writing from the floor #now if you’ll excuse me I think I should probably go hide now

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heliads · 1 year

Note

LISA YOU DID NOT GIVE ME TIME TO PREPARE FOR THIS!!! However, I already had a few ideas in mind for the next time you opened requests, so:

May I pretty please request a Thorin Oakenshield + gender-neutral reader where the reader is a fairy who comes along on the journey to Erabor because Gandalf thought they needed another magic-user? Reader is a very sweet sunshine who gets along great with all the other party members, but because Thorin doesn’t trust fairies the same way he doesn’t trust elves (because they didn’t assist the dwarves after Erabor fell the first time) he refuses to let them get close to him. However, he does start to get closer to them and develop feelings for them as time goes on, but after the Battle of the Five Armies (where everyone lives, obviously) they can’t find the reader for a while and Thorin is terrified they might be dead. And when they finally find them relatively unharmed Thorin freaks out and confesses his love because he doesn’t want to lose them, and then there’s a very nice fluffy ending??

Of course, if you don’t want to write this, that’s totally cool!! Thanks and I hope you’re doing well!! <3 <3

YESSSS i am ascending to a higher plane thank you for this SUBLIME request

masterlist

The water is wide, the mountains high; no journey worth taking was ever meant to be easy, so you may assume from the first few treacherous days of your travels towards the Lonely Mountain that this quest of yours will be quite worthy indeed. It is not in your nature to spend much time musing on the unhappiness of a time, only to find its merits, but, well, there are far more sources of unhappiness than happiness on this particular journey.

It would not be too much of a leap for even your optimism to be brought down a notch or two, to say the least. Already, your smiles are lacking a little at the seams; your jokes, not among your finest work. Patience is stretched thin amongst the company, and the shadow of Erebor is no closer to the tips of your boots than the Shire far behind you.

The Shire was not your home, though, only the starting point. The last member of the company was Bilbo Baggins, your burglar, and he took quite a bit of convincing before he was willing to set a single foot beyond the familiar confines of his home. You’re not sure he was wrong to question the idea of the quest, though, nor if he regrets it already or not. Danger dogs your heels like a bloodhound, plus the rest of the company is nothing like any of the hobbits Bilbo has ever met.

Bilbo Baggins would not be the only one confused by his company, however. As a faerie, you’ve had the opportunity to travel far past the bounds of your city, to meet characters both kind and cruel. The Fae cluster in settlements like elves, but they disperse themselves to the winds, too. Most of you end up tossed to the whims of Fate soon enough, anyway. This was your chance to get to know the world you inhabit, and it appears you’ll get far more of a tasting of it than you ever expected.

It’s not terrible. That should go without saying. You are not unhappy that you are here, nor bitter that you signed the contract to join the company of Thorin Oakenshield when you could have stayed at home to rot. It is a good cause, this, and it will bring you both glory and treasure, should you want it.

The biggest problem, if you were going to be completely honest with yourself, would be that dwarf tasked with managing all of you, Thorin. You get along splendidly with all of the other dwarves, and Gandalf has been a friend of yours ever since you wowed him with a particularly ingenious magic trick when you were small, but for some reason you have never been able to win over Thorin himself.

That is not for lack of trying, not in the slightest. Gandalf was the one who requested that you join the company, certain that having another magic user on their side would not be the worst thing in the world as you passed through dangerous territory and had to take on a dragon later on. You showed up to meet the company with the best and purest of intentions, but Thorin seemed unable to accept the fact that you really wanted to help.

In truth, you don’t think he wanted to accept it. Thorin is displeased with the faeries the same way he’ll never forgive the elves, for the same reasons he’ll glare icily at humans. When Thorin’s kin fell along with Erebor, the faeries didn’t help. Thorin begged for aid, but the faeries did not respond. You’ll never fully know why, nor were you personally responsible for the betrayal, but that does not stop Thorin from treating as if you were the linchpin keeping support from his people.

It doesn’t matter, though. It doesn’t have to matter. Thorin’s personal feelings are not why you signed onto this quest. You joined because an old friend asked, and because the idea of helping to liberate the dwarves’ homeland from a dragon seemed like a good thing to do and a fascinating way to pass the time. Faeries don’t take things seriously. They never have.

So, you let your caution with Thorin fly away from you on an eagle’s strong wings, and you throw yourself into helping whenever you can. Gandalf is pulled away from the company soon enough for a myriad of causes, and even Thorin can admit that your magical skills come in handy soon enough. You save all of their lives dozens of times over, and you find real friendship in the company while you’re at it. Nothing a little optimism can’t handle.

Some of the nights get long, though, and the warmth of a covert campfire can only keep your tired frame from shivering for so many hours. They say the bones of the Fae are hewn from diamonds, your blood, the eternal nectar of the gods, but at this moment, you want only the mysticism and riches of a good meal and clothes that actually protect you against the chill. The mountains only get colder as you travel through them, and you don’t think you’ll be able to shake the prick of gooseflesh for decades if not centuries.

You’re on watch at the moment, scanning the dark horizon around you for monsters or orcs while the rest of the company rests. You’ll have another hour or two before you have to wake the next guardian– Bilbo, actually, who’s still snoring with the rest– so you should have plenty of time to yourself until then.

You should, at least. You don’t, because someone here is still awake. You had cast a spell on yourself to amplify sound and sight at the start of your watch so you could spot intruders that much more quickly, which is why you’re aware of one heartbeat other than your own that isn’t in the lull of sleep. When you tilt your head to the side just enough, you can make out someone staring in your peripheral vision.

Thorin. Who else? At first, you feel a rush of indignation bubble through your veins. There’s no reason for him to be awake on a night like this. Everyone is exhausted from weeks of hard travel, but he’s forced himself to forgo rest so he can make sure you are actually doing your job. After all this time, he still doesn’t trust you to do watch properly. It’s infuriating.

Sick of pretending like you don’t notice, you turn abruptly to stare him dead in the eyes. You expect Thorin to do something: address you, maybe, or do something to acknowledge that he’s been caught, but instead he just holds your gaze coolly for a moment longer before turning on his other side. Half an hour later, he’s asleep.

Heroes. You’ll never understand them. The Fae are not the stuff of legends; your people prefer to linger in shadows and sunlight both, existing for themselves and for the glory of magic. Heroes, quest-leaders, warriors, they were never someone you grew up with. They have different motives, ones you don’t understand. They think they need to watch your back just because it’s the right thing to do. It confuses you, makes you believe things that might not be true. You don’t need someone like Thorin messing with your head right now, but he seems perfectly content to do it anyway.

The rest of the night passes without issue. You finish your watch shift without anything impactful, and rouse a deeply annoyed Bilbo to take over after you. Thorin doesn’t trouble you again, and indeed, the next day he seems perfectly content to act as if nothing had ever happened.

No self-respecting faerie would ever let themselves drop a grudge, though, so you manufacture a way of bringing it up before long. The company disperses in a long line, the slower ones trailing behind while Thorin keeps up the charge at the front. You make your way up to him, waiting until everyone else behind you is sufficiently far away so as to not hear a word of the inevitable quarrel, then cast Thorin one sidelong glance.

“Would you like to tell me why you’ve been watching me?”

Thorin actually stumbles while he’s walking, but manages to right himself just in time. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

You weren’t expecting him to outright deny it. This past night hasn’t been the only time you’ve caught his eyes on you. It has happened from the very start of the quest, actually. At first, his gaze was pinned to you like a wanted poster, full of judgment and suspicion. Recently, the hostility has gone down, but that doesn’t make him any less willing to look away. His gaze chases your heels as you clamber over rocks, lingers on your fingers as you fight. All this, and he still wants to act as if nothing has happened.

You scoff. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Let’s discuss last night, then. You keep staying awake during my watch. Why? Do you really trust me that little?”

Thorin shakes his head, keeping his gaze firmly trained on the horizon. “I do trust you.”

This does actually come as a surprise. He hasn’t been able to admit it aloud, likely because that would contradict his whole idea that faeries are selfish creatures who left his people to die in the fall of Erebor, but apparently he’s made an exception for you.

“Then why not let me conduct my watch in peace?” You pry.

Thorin jerks a shoulder up and down once, a taut and tense version of a shrug. “I don’t want any lapse in judgment to injure the people I care about.”

You feel your relatively good mood drop. Thorin lashes out often, most frequently when he’s sure he’s only leading his company towards their imminent destruction, so you shouldn’t take it personally. Kind of hard not to, though.

“So you think I’m blind to attackers and I’ll get everyone killed, is that what you’re saying?”

“No, I’m just worried that there are things out there worse than one of your spells,” Thorin argues, but he doesn’t sound too convincing anymore.

You shove your hands into the pockets on your coat. “You know, I just don’t get it. If you’re this opposed to faeries, why did you ever let Gandalf convince you to let me join your company?”

“I didn’t want to at the start,” Thorin begrudgingly admits, “but that was at the start, like I said. Things are different now.” He pauses, voice heavy with secrets as of yet left unsaid, then adds, “We’re different.”

You think this might be the most honest thing he’s ever shared with you. It makes you feel– a lot, actually. It makes you feel things you have not considered until now. Thorin does trust you and he does have reasons he wants to keep you around. In fact, he might even be counting you among the people he cares about and wants to protect.

You don’t have much time to think about it, not on the road and not even after you reach Erebor and immediately have to contend with an infuriated dragon. Thorin shows you the place after you have a moment of relative peace, pointing out the details his ancestors built into a home that has not been his in quite some time. It is as if he wants you to remember all of it. It is as if he wants it to be yours as well.

Peace does not last forever, it never does. One day, you’re exploring every room and corridor of Thorin’s home beneath the Lonely Mountain, the next, you’re watching army after army pour over the surrounding hills. No one likes power when it isn’t theirs. The thought that Thorin might finally have claim to his ancestral land wasn’t well favored by anyone in the vicinity, apparently.

That only means that you’ll have to fight twice as hard to keep Erebor in the hands of your friends. Even when the elves ride up to your doorstep with the humans, even when the orcs arrive out of nowhere, you stay and fight. Always. That’s what you do for the people you care about.

Thorin had asked once if you were going to leave. He’d posed the question slowly, hesitantly, eyes on any other object in the room except you, but you’d still had the perfect view of the relief on his face when you told him you would stay until it was done. There was still an open question of what you would do when it was over, but surviving a battle of this magnitude was the first crisis to deal with. Anything else could happen later, once everyone made it through alive.

That alone seemed like an impossible task, and by all accounts, it should have been. Never before in your life have you cast so many spells of such strength, saving the lives of your friends and ending those of your enemies all in turn. When it is over, you are covered in blood and ash, utterly exhausted, and injured, but your heart beats, at least, and that is enough.

You were separated from the rest of Thorin’s company during the progress of the battle, drawn out to find the best vantage point from which you could cast your spells. At first, you were going for long distance attacks, lobbing fireballs and extensive charges from a crumbling rooftop, but orcs quickly descended upon you and you were forced to resort to closer quarter magic instead.

Perhaps that is why they thought you were dead. When they could no longer see your spells from across the battlefield, there was no way to tell for sure if you were still alive. You were far away from them, fighting off the last of the enemy, and you didn’t find them for a while.

More specifically, they didn’t find you for a while. Later, you hear that Thorin had been in a sort of frantic haze, going over every rock and stone in his path in an all consuming quest to find you. You weren’t with Fili and Kili, who were immediately folded into the search party, nor were you alongside the other dwarfs. Bard had not seen you. Neither had some of the elves. By all accounts, you were gone. Vanished from sight.

That was the one thing Thorin wanted to hear the least. A body is something you can handle, a final decision. If he could not see you, he assumed you were either dead or about to be, and only his actions could save you. He would run himself ragged trying to find you and stop your death before it happened. He would have forced all the orcs in the land back to the fiery hellhole they came from, fought every monster and defeated every enemy, if it would have stopped a sword from piercing your heart.

And so, when he finally stumbled over a rocky outcropping and saw you calmly casting a spell of healing on one of his cousin’s soldiers. You had turned upon hearing him approach, and the last of Thorin’s terrors left him in one fell swoop. You were alright. He was alright. Everything, although damaged and broken and wholly consumed with ash and blood, would somehow end up okay.

Not much was said. Both of you lacked the words. Too many friends had been lost, not enough saved. Erebor would be protected, though. You swore that oath at the start, back when you joined the company for the first time, and you promise it again now. The Fae will have to wait a little longer to welcome you back. You would like to stick around a for a while.

requested by @starlit-epiphany, i hope you enjoy!

tolkien taglist: @rogueanschel, @retvenkos, @gods-fools-heroes, @crazyhearttragedy

#thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield imagines #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield oneshot #the hobbit #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit oneshot #tolkien #tolkien imagines #tolkien oneshot #the hobbit thorin #the hobbit thorin imagines #the hobbit thorin x reader #the hobbit thorin oneshot #thorin #thorin imagines #thorin x reader #thorin oneshot

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secretwhumplair · 4 months

Text

Duties

994 words | The black prince [WT] (sequel to Akreh)

Content | Power imbalance, crying, mention of/implied: bruises, starvation, past non-con

Notes | I'll maybe do some more little somethings about what happened in Akreh, but for now, let's keep moving!

Taglist | @echo-goes-aaa @whump-blog @scoundrelwithboba @whumpcreations @neverthelass @whumplr-reader

It was a short few days they spent in Akreh, during which Elgar was introduced to a handful of apparently very important people, generals and nobles. Only a few of them were present, of course, but Elgar figured there were more here, where the crown had been, than elsewhere by the front.

It was terrifying, but to his surprise, they all at least acted quite nice. He caught two or three of them giving him dirty looks, but he couldn’t even pinpoint whether it was distrust or contempt, and of course he didn’t say anything.

He was made to eat with the royal family, sitting stiffly in his chair and trying his best to copy the prince’s manners. The thought that they were still practically out in the wild, and all the pomp and circumstance would only get worse when they appraoched the capital, churned in his stomach, but at least he was getting food. In fact, he was getting better food than he had ever had in his free life; it was uncanny, reminding him of the leftovers and table scraps from his masters’ fancy meals. He had to remind himself each time that the full dish in front of him was all for him—he didn’t even have to consider leaving anything for the prince.

The prince who was, by all appearances, thriving. Clearly he knew all these people, and was friendly with a great many of them. The bruises that hadn’t been healed by magic were starting to fade, and skin was slowly covering more than bone again.

Elgar was glad, he was. That was what he had wanted, for the wretch to heal.

And he, too, was treated well. That had to count for something. The prince still rested for hours a day, and Elgar was allowed to rest with him.

A short few days was better than nothing. He was healing, too. At least a little. He was.

Then, they went on their way, together with Princess Orina and her guard—a whole unit of soldiers—and her personal slaves.

Wherever they went, they were warmly welcomed not only by whoever had the honour to host the prince and princess, but by the people as well. The prince smiled and waved at the crowds that gathered whenever they reached a settlement, obviously and, for all Elgar could tell, genuinely happy their prince had returned. It was unlike anything Elgar had ever experienced before.

On the third night, the prince broke down crying.

He had requested he and Elgar share a room. Elgar had technically been asked, and agreed, but in no small part because he was unsure how wise it would have been to disagree.

In truth, the prince’s insistence on spending their nights together was starting to make him nervous, even though he was still occasionally glad for a hand to hold, a privilege the prince had yet to withdraw.

Tonight, though, all that didn’t seem to matter so much.

The prince was sat on their bed, in his silken nightgown, and started to cry without warning; deep, gut-wrenching sobs. He had been so peacefully quiet that Elgar had almost forgotten he hadn’t lost his voice itself. He pressed a hand to his mouth, but the sobbing wouldn’t stop.

Elgar didn’t even hesitate. The prince had been trained to hold back sounds or he would be punished further, and it was clear he was trying even now; he must be desperate. Elgar sat next to him and, with only the slightest trepidation, put an arm around his shoulders.

* Orafin felt selfish leaning into Elgar’s touch, burying his face in his chest. He was the prince here—he was who should, and could, protect and comfort Elgar, and he had already been spectacularly failing, and now here he was, breaking down into Elgar’s arms as if he didn’t have his own horrors to contend with.

He couldn’t say what brought it on. It had been an exhausting few days, travelling and meeting people and smiling and waving when he wanted to curl up somewhere safe among his siblings, but those were the duties of a prince.

He was safe, and taken good care of. There was no reason he sould be crying now. Yet with all the awful pratice he had had, he couldn’t swallow down the tears soaking into Elgar’s nightshirt—silken, like his, he wanted Elgar to share in all of his luxuries, he deserved it—nor the sobs, nor the rough howl wrenching itself from him, sounding more animal in the knowledge it would never become words again.

Elgar, sweet Elgar who had been so anxious the whole time no matter how much Orafin tried to signal he was safe and respected, enclosed him in a hug.

»It’s—it’s alright. You’re safe now, your Highness. You’re going home. It’s going to be okay.«

Orafin couldn’t so much as thank him, much less return the favour, or explain that he knew, he knew, he was acting an utter fool.

With great effort, he righted himself. Elgar’s arms hesitantly slipped off of him, and he took his hands in one of his own, reaching out with the other, gently touching Elgar’s cheek. Tears were still welling up in his eyes, and he kept having to blink them away.

He couldn’t say thank you. He couldn’t ask where Elgar took all this kindness from. He could only-

On impulse, he leant forward—but no. Enough had been inflicted on Elgar’s body without asking. He righted himself again, touched his fingertips to his own lips, then reached out to hover them over Elgar's forehead, silently asking the clearest way he knew how-

»Do you. Are you asking-« Elgar’s voice cracked. »Are you asking if you can kiss—my forehead?«

Orafin nodded.

Now Elgar looked close to tears, too. »Yes, you—yes.« He presented his head for Orafin to place a single warm kiss onto him, his hands clinging onto Orafin’s.

#whump #whump writing #royal whump #multiple whumpees #my writing #the black prince is a tag that apparently already exists #elgar #orafin

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linksthoughtbrambles · 3 months

Note

Thought I'd give you a one word prompt for any of the Zelinks: Ghost.

@nocturnalfandomartist, thank you, thank you, thank you for this prompt. This astonished me more the more I wrote - and I couldn't stop writing. It may be longer than you bargained for at 9K words, but I enjoyed writing every single word of it. I will write at least one follow-up. This is a canon-compliant sequel to What to Expect When Fetch-Questing and a loose sequel to The Seeds of Love, Well-Worn and What Once Rang Hollow (with a few continuity differences for that last one) but it can stand easily on its own. Rated T, post-TotK, humor, drama, and romance. Also available to read on ao3.

Eternal

Link was extremely pleased he had his own arm back.

Unfortunately, he was the only one.

Purah (“Are you fricking KIDDING me?! I wanted to study that thing!”), Robbie (“I must repair my balloon myself?!”), Impa (“Mmm—a pity. With it, we might have learned how to create our own constructs—perhaps incorruptible ones.”), Paya (“That’s too bad, Link—it looked good on you!”), Tauro (“Ahhh. I’m sure you’re feeling better, but I was hoping I could learn more of the Zonai language from it, somehow.”), Calip (“It’s gone?! What did you do with it? You should’ve given it to me as an expert in these matters!”), Sidon (“My dearest friend! Where has your adult arm gone? Are you well?”), Yunobo (“Oh NO, Link, you lost your cool arm!”), Tulin (“Oh mannn. You still have my pledge, Link, but I don’t think I should just…slap my rune on your body. We gotta get you some rings or something.”), and Riju (“I didn’t expect you to look so much smaller without it.”), not to mention every single member of the monster control crew, and essentially anyone in Hyrule who ever recognized him, all thought he’d been better off with part of Rauru grafted onto his body.

Even Zelda wasn’t (entirely) an exception.

She did appreciate Link’s hands during their personal time (“I must admit, Link, I’d have felt strange were you doing this with a Zonai’s hand rather than your own”), but the scholar and sovereign in her definitely mourned the loss of such a unique artifact.

“Link, is there any chance you still share a psychic connection with Rauru?”

“Nope,” he said.

She blinked at him.

“Sorry,” he said, blushing and sheepish.

Now that the depths, sky, and newfound caverns had created vast opportunities for exploration, research, and innovation, Zelda’s original aim of rebuilding Hyrule had essentially tripled. She and Link knew if they didn’t make depths exploration and settlement official, people would do it on their own and get themselves killed (or the Yiga would claim it, and Hyrule would be threatened again in a few centuries). So it was, indeed, official as were new initiatives to investigate Zonai technology—making the Great Abandoned Central Mine one of several hubs of Hyrulean activity in the depths. Its proximity to the healing spring directly beneath the Shrine of Resurrection had made it a frequent destination of theirs.

Link and Zelda materialized beneath the Koradat Lightroot to the weighty vertigo of silence in the dark beyond the root’s oasis. It was the same every time—some quiet dread sinking into the deepest pit of Link’s belly, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He kept telling himself it would be better once people settled, with their warm lights and the sounds that come with them going about their daily business. Zelda kept telling him otherwise. (“We oughtn’t fill this place to the brim with light, Link. We would disturb its ecosystem severely”).

Link was usually on board with leaving nature undisturbed for the most part.

Maybe it was the time he’d spent down here in utter silence but for his own footsteps, utter darkness but pale flowerlight shot into a black so matte it may as well have been death’s void; the pressure of vast expanses of pitch-black felt nothing like a sea of undisturbed trees far above in the light.

There wasn’t even any wind.

Were both nature? Yes. Were both natural?

It didn’t feel like it.

“Shall we?” Zelda said.

It severed Link’s fledgling reverie. He tore his eyes from the lightless maw beyond Hylia Canyon and turned to join Zelda in descending the steep slope on the path toward the Great Abandoned Central Mine. He gave her a small smile, though he knew, from her face, it didn’t reach his eyes.

Her return smile did. “I hear one of our survey teams discovered another root in that direction,” she said. “We merely- ah- well-“

“Have to figure out how to light it up without my arm,” Link said.

A hint of pink dusted Zelda’s cheekbones. “Yes. Sorry, Link.”

The mine’s central structure loomed in the distance, its light cold, the highest statue of the ancient Gerudo sage always watching, an intimidating glower over the hilt of her sword aimed at any who would ascend the formidable stair toward its main entrance.

“Hello, Aratra,” Zelda whispered, as she always did, as though the woman herself could still answer her.

As they neared the bottom of the hill, blue flickered in Link’s vision. “Zelda,” he said, pointing to the small cluster of poes coming into view on the left.

The spectre of that intimate grief between them passed over her face as she nodded.

He didn’t say it wasn’t her fault.

Since he didn’t say it, she didn’t say it could be.

The words floated between them, spoken so many times they’d become an immutable understanding: that she’d been too slow, that he’d been too silent, that they’d both been too obedient to the long-dead king whose grave Zelda still brought blue gentians to in the early days of each summer.

That neither of them blamed the other for it.

That they’d both spend the rest of their lives making up for it.

And that they’d do it together.

Neither of them knew whether the spiritual flames were casualties of the Calamity.

Link only knew the vague sense of relief he felt when they entered him. It felt like they felt safe—sometimes, he even sensed joy—and they clung to him so hard.

They clung to Zelda, too, it turned out. As they approached, the spirits snapped eagerly into whichever of them was nearest, nestling somewhere unfathomable within them until released to a bargainer’s care. Link still didn’t trust the bargainers, exactly, though they intended to visit the one in the mine that day.

They didn’t talk much. They usually didn’t when sliding through the depths’ silence—sound felt like a beacon to whatever might be beyond the lightroot’s reach; yet they moved in unwavering agreement, sweeping up every poe in their path and off it within sight. It’s why they took the long route to every work site.

They veered far off the path at one point to collect a dozen wayward souls atop a half-buried ruin of a toppled archway.

“If we go much further, we’ll be at the spring rather than the mine,” Zelda said.

“Yeah,” Link answered quietly. They turned to rejoin the path further up, hugging the rounded base of a monumental column presumably carved by nature, reaching the impossibly high ceiling of what was far, far too large to consider a mere cavern. It was like a space willed into existence by the gods themselves.

Link’s mood lifted as the sounds of civilized activity reached him, more and more distinct as they neared the foot of the quadruple-flight of stone stairs beneath the statue’s feet. Link caught a glimpse of a Sheikah scientist, little but a few motes of color on the highest level of the structure, cheerful construct “Brrrp!”s reflecting toward them off any of hundreds of stone facades: every surface the same pale grey—every light cool and lifeless.

Link couldn’t imagine living in such a place. With an irritated grind of his teeth, he realized he strongly preferred the haphazard Yiga structures, with their paper and oil lights and bound wood. The real, green-leaved brightblooms were also better than the Zonai’s artificial torches.

“Rupee for your thoughts,” Zelda whispered.

Link huffed. “The place needs some color.”

She paused on the stairs, a third of the way up, her torso shaking with laughter and her hand squeezing his tight.

Link tried not to smile. He didn’t want her to think he liked being laughed at.

“Link,” she said, holding her stomach, “that is…precisely the sort of observation I ought to expect you to make.”

He really tried to keep a sour grimace on, but he knew his lips were going twitchy.

“Unfortunately,” Zelda said, eyeing his lips with suspicion, “I am no longer in a position to pass on your criticism of Zonai décor.”

Link snorted. “Neither am I. But I definitely would’ve said something to Rauru if I’d seen this before he disappeared.”

“I have no doubt! And truly, you’re right. I cannot imagine spending any great length of time down here with nothing but grey stone and white light.”

Link nodded. “At least not without experiencing crushing environmental depression.”

Zelda inclined her head, no longer laughing. “Indeed. It makes one wonder.”

“Wonder what?”

“…Whether the monsters find it as unpleasant as we do,” she said, her eyes sweeping the far-off dark.

Link let that one sink in as they made the landing. Zelda touched the dais on which her old ally stood with reverence. When her hand slid from the porous stone, they continued up the staircase on her right. The chamber below would wait until later.

They ascended among tents clustered on the flagstones before the forge, lining the walls both natural and Zonai-made right up to the great arch. They littered the circular courtyard on the other side of the building, too, the royal crest and symbols of the Sheikah, Zonai Survey Team, and Gerudo adorning many. The familiar sound of a fan whirred somewhere above them, out of sight.

It had been quite a stroke of luck, really, that Link had activated these facilities before Rauru’s arm vanished. The constructs had still recognized him as their “primary authorizer” and he’d been able to grant access to others.

He admitted, though, it was getting cumbersome; the moment he saw Ponnick, he knew he’d run out of time to think about Zelda’s monster-wonderings. He flagged Link down (as if Link wasn’t looking straight at him) with arms wild above his head. “Thank the skies you’re here, we have new recruits!”

Link then spent the obligatory hour introducing them to all the constructs in the facility.

Zelda had her own work in store for her. Between decisions regarding distribution of newly acquired zonaite and reports from the excavation, inventory, innovation, and engineering teams, she easily had a full day of deliberation and arbitration ahead. Link joined her for much of it once he’d fulfilled his authorization duties—after all, he’d become something of an amateur engineer himself. It was nice to have something scientific to contribute when talking with Zelda.

“You can totally build a wing/hot-air-balloon hybrid!” he’d said.

“Link, that sounds quite impractical-“

“No, no, you don’t put the balloon in the middle, you put it on the nose at an angle, see? Then it drags the wing upward.”

“L- Link- what of the flame needed?“

“Oh, no, it’s fine, you only get burned a little bit.”

“What?!”

“And you still put the fans on the back, you know, to help out. Oh, and the steering stick.”

“Link, forgive me, but the flame shall not be directed straight up. It is inefficient and unsafe.”

“Yeah but the LIFT!”

He’d quite liked his flaming plane. So had Robbie.

Today, the engineering talk had more to do with shoring up mining tunnels, which while important, did not require Link’s particular flair for incendiary devices. All their talk of angles, sines, and cosines seemed a bit more precise than his higgledy-piggledy constructions to hold up Addison’s signs, so he eventually left them to it, jogging instead to the rim of the courtyard, climbing up, and inviting all the poes newly showing themselves to join him—then scouting for more from his higher vantage point. He’d grown used to the quizzical looks from everyone else but Zelda.

“What?” he’d asked as Ponnick watched him jog, zig-zagging, in a roughly circular area covered in pale grey and lavender fungi.

“What are you doing?”

“Collecting the poes,” Link said.

“Poes? Where?!” Ponnick spun, wildly searching for spirits which glowed blue, plain as day, in Link’s vision.

At least Zelda could see them, too.

On balance, between the poes, soldiers’ spirits, koroks, Hestu, and the dragons of the springs, he’d have presumed himself insane if no one else ever saw what he saw. He almost had after the ghost of King Rhoam disappeared right in front of his face in the Temple of Time: an insane amnesiac with delusions of heroism.

Except they hadn’t been delusions, because he’d killed the crap out of Ganon.

Twice.

Or, of course, he imagined it. Twice.

Link shook his head. No point going down that route. If he imagined that, he imagined everything, and if that was the case he might as well relax and start attaching rockets to every exhausted korok’s backpack like that one by Outskirt Stable.

Poor little guy. At least he made it the eleventh time.

He huffed to himself. Sometimes, Zelda thought he was a little nuts. He supposed he could see why.

As a particularly large poe with a bright pink fringe zzipped its way into his body, Link caught a wink of blue between boulders at the stone circle in the distance to the north—a small zonaite deposit he’d cleared of monsters for what seemed to be the final time, the blood moons having ended.

It sparked his curiosity.

He sprinted the first hundred feet, then slowed to a reasonable pace. He didn’t want to go too far and worry Zelda, but if there were poes at that old monster nest, he didn’t want to leave them there.

Ten minutes later, he entered the mouth of the circle, three moldy, rickety old watch-posts within and another gap in the rocks across from him. Blue flickered beyond it: five poes huddled together. As he approached, flashes of his last encounter there played across his mind’s eye. The bokoblin on the platform before him had seen him first and tried to rain fire-fruit-arrows on him. Two silver moblins had slouched toward him, intent on splitting him open with their horns or the decayed royal claymores they’d somehow gotten. The other two bokoblins had fallen quickly to Tulin’s duplicate. Five monsters in all.

Link’s lip curled.

He hesitated on the brink of turning back, the thought of helping anything that may once have been a bokoblin sending a shockingly wicked taste of bile up his throat. He brought a fist to his mouth, pressing it deep to his skin, the imprint of his teeth stark against his lips.

No one memory stood out.

He’d never met a bokoblin that hadn’t aimed to kill on sight—never known one to show mercy, or even disinterest. Once they knew a person was near, they entered an unstoppable, murderous frenzy until they succeeded or someone put them down.

Link shut his eyes and took breath after deep breath.

He didn’t know anything for sure, and the bargainers never said.

Except they did say.

“Good… Evil… That’s the futile perspective of narrow-minded beings… There is no such distinction in wandering spirits.”

When he next looked, the flames flickered every bit as forlorn as they always did. He shook his head, his feet finally choosing forward for him.

When the poes joined the others in Link, he felt the usual sense of relief. Whoever or whatever they were, they seemed glad to be with him—not as happy as the ones he’d found in the deepest pit of the mine beneath Hateno, but if he was stuck for Goddess-knows how long at the absolute bottom of a pitch-black pit, he’d have been overjoyed to get out, too.

He took his time on the way back to the courtyard, half-watching a team excavate a buried section of the cracked enclosure and half-scouting for more glints of spirit-light, pensive, wrinkling his nose as he became aware of the sticky sheen on his skin. He pulled a handkerchief from his pouch and took it to his face. It came away slightly green with the powdery spores always floating in the too-still air of the depths. Zelda collected them to study, but Link preferred not to be the collection vessel.

Zelda herself appeared over the edge of the wall as he swept the cloth beneath his left eye a second time. He watched her make her way down the inclined stone the natural grace she’d always had.

When he reached her, she was busy snapping images of the newly excavated section of stone.

“It is remarkable how they accomplished this precision on such a massive scale.” The Purah Pad clicked. “These structures were erected before my time with them—long before for most. They are scattered so far and wide and yet certain markings on them are precisely identical. I suppose they may have mass-produced stones as they did construct parts and delivered them afar.”

Link grew a soft, sideways smile as he listened. He could imagine her doing exactly this in the sunshine, her hair brushing the small of her back, himself silent as always, allowing her voice to wash over him until she inevitably remembered who she was talking to.

“The compendium feature is still something of a mystery,” she’d said, snapping a carefully-timed shot of a warm darner just as it paused, searching for prey.

“It recognizes certain species, but not others. Initially, Purah and I believed its recognition to be related to useful effects. Warm darners are of use in elixirs to resist cold temperatures, for example. Yet despite being unable to identify any species of tree, the Slate recognizes certain perfectly ordinary fruits, including apples.”

Link thought apples were too delicious to be ordinary. He didn’t dare say so, but the phantom flavor of hot buttered apple flooded his mouth and his stomach betrayed him with a thoroughly embarrassing hunger-pang much-too-much like the sound of a hopeful retriever begging for an appley treat.

Zelda’s back stiffened. She glanced over her shoulder at his now-pink face, her eyes flicking to the blue pommel peeking out behind his ear. Link remained perfectly still, and that included not swallowing his imaginary-apple-induced-saliva.

Then-Zelda had returned to imaging wildlife in a rankling silence.

Now-Zelda heard him huff a laugh and turned with a smile sparkling despite the cold light of this place. She hooked the Purah Pad onto her belt. “May I ask what’s amused you so?”

Link shrugged a little. “Ways you haven’t changed.”

“Ah,” she said, threading her fingers through his. “And what of ways I have?”

His voice emerged low and soft. “I love those.” He squeezed her hand.

It made her smile at him in a way far too similar to how she had much earlier that morning, not long after waking up. He swallowed as she pulled him toward her—then she squinted at him and laughed a little through her nose, taking the handkerchief still in his other hand and beginning to wipe his forehead.

“I did that already,” he chuckled.

“You missed your hairline,” she said with the soft laugh he’d come to recognize as her equivalent of a giggle. “It’s fortunate this substance does not irritate your lungs as it does for some.”

“Especially Nappin.”

“Indeed, yes, especially Nappin. I do not believe depths research is his calling.”

“Nope.”

“You must have walked through a thick patch.”

“Ran through, more likely.”

“Oh? Where did you go?”

Link motioned toward the stone circle in the distance.

Her brow pinched. “Monsters?”

“Poes,” he said, wondering if he should tell her about the coincidence of the number. It might make her feel better, to have some hint these weren’t all souls marooned by the Calamity, but he wasn’t sure how she’d take the possibility they might be doing favors for monsters who’d been intent on murdering them in life.

She must have seen it in the motions of his mouth, nearly but not quite speaking. “Something else?” she asked.

He sighed soft through his nose. “Just something that made me think.”

The corner of her mouth quirked. Then her whole face opened up in mock-surprise. “Incredible!”

“Pfff,” he said with a poke to her ribs.

She squeaked. The three people working on the excavation behind Zelda went from studiously ignoring them to unabashed staring. Link gave them a small wave just as he registered Zelda’s eyes narrowing at him.

She began to rub the handkerchief all over the crown of his head with unnecessary vigor.

“Hey!”

The sounds coming from her as he pushed her hands away were much more like a girlish giggle than anything she usually produced. “It was in your hair, too,” she pointed out.

“There’s probably some in yours, Princess,” he warned.

Her eyebrows shot very close to the hairline her hands had risen to protect.

Link smirked. Her braid was much more difficult to fix than his ponytail. He made short work of his, shaking his now-mussed hair out and re-gathering it in the tie. Hyper-aware of the team still at rapt attention in the background, he finished up and offered his hand to Zelda. “Truce?”

She took it with a small smile. “Yes, please—but sincerely, I would like to know what gave you pause in the short time we were separated.”

His smile ebbed as he began to lead her over the shallower side of the half-buried stone walkway. It was no use, really. He’d only been good at hiding things from her when she refused to look at him, so long ago.

“There were five poes,” he said, “same as how many monsters I last cleared out.”

Their feet fell so quiet on the soft courtyard ground covered in pale, fuzzy flora he had no real names for, some soft and mossy, others more like wisps or powders. A few prickled. He liked the purple ones best for breaking up all that grey.

Their feet followed the same path without any hesitance or need for confirmation—toward the great central corridor. Zelda finally answered ten feet from its first stones.

“The statues say… good and evil… are meaningless for them.”

“…Yeah.”

“For a few moments, I was wondering whether only the spirits remaining clear in the shape of Hylian soldiers were people, but… no. For they aren’t poes at all, are they?”

Link shook his head. “No. They… find their way on their own. Once they’re done.”

Zelda nodded. “They had a purpose—to help you,” Zelda said.

“To help someone, anyway. Whoever came around to fight back.”

A series of clanging sounds echoed down the stone steps into the corridor, along with quizzical "Brrrp!"s and a Hylian's grumbling. Link's right hand flexed. No more convenient ultra-glue. He kept walking.

“Why down here?” Zelda asked.

She’d spoken so quietly he had to think to process her words over the noise.

“You mean why in the depths?” Link asked.

“Yes. Why so far beneath the place they perished? There seems little hope of aiding someone here, doesn’t there?”

“I came along.”

“Yet they can’t have known you would. They wouldn’t even have known the depths were here to travel here intentionally.”

Link shook his head. He had absolutely no idea.

They descended in thoughtful silence to the base of Aratra’s main statue, then behind her into the yawning chamber tucked deceptively beneath the center of the great structure.

It struck Link, as it often did, as the offer of an embrace. As the chamber opened before them, the long bridge leading from the entrance directly to the four-eyed face of the greatest bargainer statue, the platform running abreast its shoulders combined with its massive arms and it appeared so ready to encircle whatever came before it. When he’d first stood there, he expected it, watched those hands out of the corner of his eye, waiting for movement.

It had never come.

Instead, a distant but surprisingly level-headed voice had issued from the alien face. It had helped him—no question about that.

The poes gladly rushed into its waiting arms—no doubt about that, either.

But this entity had also played a trick on him to get him down here. He would never trust it the way he trusted the Goddess.

The Goddess statues were another matter entirely. Now that he knew more than one thing could talk out of them, he was a lot more wary than he’d been before.

They came to a halt near the great statue’s face.

“You who stand before me,” it said in tones of single drops of water echoing in a deep, black lake, “offer poes to me. They are spirits that ought to return to the afterlife.”

As always, the poes simply left them. With hundreds or thousands of spirits somehow housed within him, Link always expected there to be something like a whirlwind, or flashes of light—but there wasn’t. It was swift and gentle as a sigh: barely a murmur of any motion or sound. It took merely a moment.

Then a wave of desperate grief seized the core of Link’s body and he cried out, clutching at an anguished heart, though neither the cry nor the heart were his own.

“Link!” Zelda gripped his biceps, her face stricken.

“Z-elda-“ he said, more to answer her than anything else, at a complete loss.

“Two do not wish to leave you,” said the bargainer.

Link’s breath caught. Zelda’s eyes flew wide, and she looked him up and down as though trying to find them. “Can you- pull them from him?”

“I can do no more than guide,” the bargainer answered. “I show the way home.”

“They usually seem quite pleased to go home. So- why?” Zelda’s face seemed approaching a panic like none he’d seen in over a hundred years.

“I’m fine, Zel,” Link said, “really- NO, really, I’m fine, I’m just- I feel what they feel.”

“Yes, I do as well, but this-“

“This is them not wanting to go,” Link said, shaking. His eyes met first the lower, then the upper pair of the bargainer’s. “Can you talk to them?”

“After a fashion.”

“Can you figure out why-“

“I know why.”

Link and Zelda waited a few beats.

“We would appreciate it if you would inform us,” Zelda said, a hint of exasperation in her voice.

There was a depth of quiet, as though all sound plummeted into some unseen pit, unable to return, siphoned, whenever the bargainers spoke across fathoms to their brethren. It muted Link’s accelerated breaths. Zelda’s grip tightened, her mind visibly whirring behind the eyes flicking between his features.

“…You have made a substantial offering,” the bargainer said at length.

Link and Zelda exchanged a glance.

“You have made many offerings,” it continued, “many more than any other being in countless ages.”

Link experienced the distinct sensation of someone…curling around him, like Zelda would, holding him tight, but inside his own chest.

“If you agree, I will honor these spirits’ requests as repayment for your offerings.”

“Agree?” Zelda asked. “What requests?”

“They would speak with you,” it clarified.

The curl tightened. It felt like far, far more than a desire to speak. A creeping dread rose in him—his own—of what spirits would choose to cling with such desperation to his body.

Someone terrified of death? Of the afterlife? Maybe someone with a last request—a regret? Two someones—at the same time, when it had never happened before?

Or did the bargainer mean… “W-wait,” Link said with a swallow. “Do they want to speak to someone in general? Or is it just me? Or Zelda?”

Link resisted an inexplicable urge to whimper.

“It is you who stand before me,” the bargainer said.

“Meaning Link,” Zelda said squinting at the statue.

It stared as though its answer had been obvious.

“Do they mean him harm?” Zelda’s tone had hardened considerably. “We have seen spirits lift weapons- perform magic.“

Link lurched with a sudden fear—could he have picked up Ganondorf’s soul?

“I offer you a boon,” the bargainer said, “not a curse.”

Zelda blinked, taken aback, while Link registered the depth of the anguish invading his heart.

It didn’t feel like Ganondorf. He’d have been hatred—envy—fury.

No, that wasn’t it.

This was regret. Something undone or unfinished.

Link closed his eyes and tried to… reach—within himself, where this spirit wound around him. So tight—clinging—stubborn. Something made him breathe an incredulous laugh, and he didn’t even know why; but the more he seemed to press into the spirit’s space the more familiar it seemed, an intense vertigo hurtling toward him from an invisible horizon slamming his awareness into long ago, when the world was over a hundred years younger.

Link’s body gasped.

Link’s mind looked down at a very spiteful young girl with a thick mop of mixed sand-and-straw-and-acorn-colored hair which he’d wrestled into a braid for her earlier that day, springy strands poking out at odd angles as she narrowed her eyes at him, her gangly arms vice-gripping his ribs, her hands fisted, and her feet planted wider than shoulder-width apart, as though to brace him immovably in-place.

“This isn’t going to work out for you, cheeter,” Link said.

“You’re not going,” she answered, her voice a mix of petulant and acrid.

“I… kind of am.”

“Nope.” She sniffed, a bit of her own hair having tickled its way to the edge of one nostril.

“I mean, if you won’t let go, I can just drag you all the way to the castle.”

“Good.”

“Good?!”

“Dad takes you everywhere. My turn.”

“You clinging to my midriff isn’t the same as Father taking you somewhere.”

Her lip curled and Link felt kind of bad, but what did she expect? “You’re eleven.”

“So?”

“So you’re not even out of school yet!”

“Castle Town has a school.”

“So you want to go to school in Castle Town while I’m in training all day and pretty much not see me anyway?”

“At least I’ll get to do something.”

Link laughed so hard he went silent, the girl’s chin bopping his ribs painfully with each spasm of his diaphragm.

“What are you laughing at?!”

“Chee… for Hylia’s sake, you’ll just be at a different school!”

“With you.”

“What about Mom?” Link said.

Chee went quiet for a moment, her eyes softening a little, though they still shone like tiger’s-eye. He could tell she was trying not to grimace.

“That is totally your sheepish face trying not to come out,” Link said.

“Dad leaves her alone,” Chee said quietly. “A lot.”

Link’s smile left him. “No… he doesn’t. Because she has us.”

“You mean me.”

“Yeah, okay… so it’s been you more than me. But do you really want to leave her here while we both go?”

“She could come.”

Link shook his head. He was getting sidetracked. Mom wasn’t really what this was about, and neither was a different school, or Castle Town, or even his sister getting to do more exciting things. “Look, Chee… I know you’ll miss me.”

She grunted and pumped all the air from his lungs with her bony arms (damn she was strong).

“I’ll miss you too. A lot.” He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, hard, but not too hard. He was way too strong for his own good, or hers. “More than anyone,” he whispered.

“Link?”

“No way.”

“Yep.”

“You’re a total mommy’s boy.”

“Yeah, well, doesn’t mean my sister can’t be my favorite person.”

“Link, please- answer me!”

“He communes,” the bargainer said, the sound of distance itself as the image of Link’s little sister faded.

The feel of her arms around him remained.

“I agree!” Link blurted.

“What?!” Zelda said, her thumb swiping at a wetness on Link’s cheek.

As the embrace of his innermost self bled from Link, he tripped forward, his arms desperate, seeking to return it. His hands found Zelda’s waist, and his eyes found hers—whatever she saw in them made her hug him tight about his shoulders.

“Link?” she said.

He held her too, unsure how to begin, but any words died on his lips at the sight of blue flame coalescing behind her. He tapped Zelda’s back, taking her by one shoulder and turning her to look.

Two spirits came into slow being before them, veiled in a pale blue glow, their features weaving into existence as patches of light, seamless once in place. Flames licked their feet, one moment there, then gone. They were old women, but as Link watched, their edges shimmered, and they took the forms he knew they would—some hidden heart within him had already known, had felt their shades only in his most dreamless of sleeps, in the darkness with them.

One woman stood almost exactly his height, about forty years old, and looked very much like him. The other had become the girl who’d insisted he stay home with her over a century ago.

How could his waking mind have forgotten them so thoroughly? He really was an insane amnesiac with delusions of heroism. He’d have to be insane to forget people he loved so much.

“Mom. Chee,” he said, and as he did, their tears fell, too. They rushed to embrace him, both at once, and he could feel them, they were real, and his deepest core spoke a wordless vow to offer a gift worthy of the bargainer’s extraordinary blessing.

Zelda balanced privacy and caution, wandering the length of the bargainer’s platform, the communion of three always at the corner of her eye, sitting cross-legged, knee-to-knee and hand-in-hand.

She’d known of his mother and sister, but they’d never met. He’d spoken of them only in bare, short spaces, quiet moments when Calamity’s imminence dulled.

How their Hateno home had not brought their memories forth long before now, she didn’t know. She’d sensed, sometimes, as Link stared at a piece of pottery or brushed his fingertips over a length of wood-grain on the banister, some glimmer of their former reality floating near to the surface—but it never emerged.

It’s why she’d delved into the mystery of the Shrine of Resurrection—into the healing spring beneath it in the depths—as though the missing parts of him had drifted into its bed, lying nascent against its darkest earth, far below.

They’d have stopped there again after this, on an ordinary day. She’d have given him her most sincere of smiles as she removed his leather—his bracers, his belts, his boots—her eyes never leaving his. She could feel the way his chest would rise and fall, quickening against the heels of her hands. They’d have entered the water together.

Zelda reached the platform’s edge. Hundreds of feet below, a small cluster of poes huddled in the great chamber’s corner, near the bargainer’s ankle; Zelda wondered that they’d come so close to the guiding statue, yet not found their way to the afterlife.

“They do not wish to cross,” the bargainer said.

Zelda gasped, one hand pressing flat to her chest. It had heard her?

“I can hear only you who stand before me.”

Zelda craned her neck toward the statue’s head, half-expecting it to have turned toward her. It hadn’t. “Not the others above us, then?” she whispered.

“Only you who stand before me.”

Zelda sighed, the bargainer keeping its secrets as always. She centered Link in her vision, speaking quietly with his lost family, so engrossed he’d not spared the statue a glance as its voice sounded.

“I spoke to you alone,” the statue said.

“Oh?” Zelda’s curiosity piqued. “I didn’t realize you could.”

She waited for a response, the spark of excitement slowly fading in the silence.

She oughtn’t have expected anything else. These beings showed interest in nothing but the welfare of the spirits they shepherded. She peered over the railing once more, at the flames flickering far below.

“If I go to collect them, will they come?”

“For you, yes. Undoubtedly.”

“And would they then move on as the others have?”

“Almost certainly.”

She wondered why her carrying them a few hundred feet would change their minds.

“Listen with he who also stands before me. You will understand.”

Zelda’s brow tightened, taken aback and hesitant to simply eavesdrop. She shuffled her feet.

The bargainer remained silent.

She approached the three with great reservation, her hands clasped before her, unwilling to simply insert herself within their conversation. She stopped partway across the platform. Should Link wish to include her, he would—yet he was rapt. He appeared as though drinking in every detail of his mother’s face over and over again. Perhaps he feared a more ordinary forgetfulness would take her from him a second time.

Zelda’s lower lip rose in understanding. Some days, she, too, struggled to see her father’s face clearly. Her mother’s had long been wiped blank.

She gasped, her hand touching the Purah Pad.

Link looked up at the sound, giving her a small smile, and as he did, the spirits looked at her as well, as though only just noticing her presence.

The spirit of Link’s mother smiled wide. “Link! Is she with you?”

Link turned deep crimson, his face twisting in a smiling grimace Zelda had never seen on him.

“Oooh!” his sister said, her face full of mock-scandalization. “Your face, Link. Wow. Is she… with you?” she asked, her eyebrows inching upward.

Link’s rested his face in his hands as the spirit-women giggled at him. Zelda couldn’t help but quirk a smile, herself, though she felt strange. She could not ignore the hesitance in her heart.

Transient.

It would be transient.

Her eyes threatened tears as she watched her lover, watched him be with them as though they yet lived.

Their departure would sink him as his forgetfulness never could have.

It took Link a minute and a few resurgences of giggling to recover enough to peer over his hands at her.

Then he held one out in invitation, turning that smile on her- the one that was for her alone. She drew a steeling breath, her fingers worrying at the pad’s cool surface. “Are you certain?” Zelda asked. “I’ve no wish to intrude.” I’ve no wish to cut your time short.

“I’m completely sure,” Link said, beckoning her toward him.

Her shoe scuffed on the first step and she swallowed, extending her hand. When he took it, his mother’s spirit slid to make room for her. Zelda sat as they did, her knee to Link’s, unable to smile and unsure what to say—though she had no intention of asking questions about the mechanics of spirithood, despite the bargainer’s nebulous words.

Link seemed to sense her uncertainty. He threaded his fingers through hers and moved closer, drawing her hand warm into his lap, his shoulder to hers. Zelda couldn’t help but find his eyes, and though she knew his smile and the squeeze of her hand were nothing but sincerity, a truth to reassure her, the smile she gave held a depth of sadness for the future this would bring.

“That is so a yes,” his sister said, snapping the moment in two. Link’s eyes rolled and fluttered shut, and a small laugh left Zelda’s nose despite her visions of Link falling apart.

“The sky’s sake, Chee,” his mother chuckled. “You lived to be ninety-two. I’d expect you to have matured eventually.”

“Are you kidding? This is my chance to be a kid again. I’ll take it!” The girl smiled at Link, but an intense sadness lay in the core of her eyes, the precise contours of her lips. Zelda recognized its longing.

It was in his mother’s, too. “Link, my little love,” the older woman said, shifting a soft smile between him and Zelda, “why don’t you introduce us?”

Link huffed a laugh and gave Zelda a look so like one he’d given her just before the Calamity struck—on Mount Lanayru—something sad yet loving and utterly immovable all at once. She wondered wildly for a moment exactly how he’d introduce her—for she wasn’t his wife, not yet, but “fiancé” seemed an entirely inadequate word.

Fated. Soulmate. Destined. Those- those began to approach the magnitude of whatever connection had laid between them even from the beginning.

“Mom- Chee,” Link said, his eyes and smile still soft, still on her. “This is the love of my life.” His thumb stroked the edge of her hand. “Zelda.”

She and her smile warmed, his words an anchor to the present. Her free hand curled around his bicep and their foreheads somehow met, though she’d not intended to approach him.

His eyes on hers.

Those calm waters she always wished to dive deep within. They seemed to go on forever, further than Link himself could know, to a place warm, safe, and eternal.

Should she ever tell him so, he would give her his lopsided smile with that deep dimple of his. He would tell her the reverse—that she was his eternal goddess, and he worshiped her—that it wasn’t about him.

But it was about him. She knew it in her deepest self. They two were as one. When it came time for her to pass into the afterlife, she knew she would not go without him.

A sudden understanding drew an aching smile on her face for all the little lights in the darkness.

Though the silence between them bore no tension, its length emerged in her awareness. No irreverent remark issued from his sister; his mother had asked no questions of her. She turned with a flutter of dread, expecting, somehow, the spell to be broken—to see empty space where the spirits had been. Instead, she found their gazes on them, awed.

“What is it?” Link asked softly.

They seemed at a loss for speech. Their eyes traveled all around and above and below them, their hands locked together. His mother’s eyes fell on Zelda’s, and his sister’s on Link’s.

“It was you,” his sister said.

Link shook his head. “What was?”

“You… shine,” his mother said, her voice like a whisper in a cathedral. “Together. Like- the light of a thousand Suns.”

Link turned as though searching for that light himself. “Zelda does- she shines with her magic.”

“No, Link. Both of you,” his sister said, shaking her head hard, her eyes shut for a moment. She opened them, squinting at Zelda. “I see you both ways right now. Before, I didn’t have eyes, not anymore. I do now, and I can see you sitting there, but I could see you before, too. You… you were the lights. You…” she gestured at them, her palm wide, “are the lights.” She swallowed. “Mom? Same for you?”

“Yes,” the older woman breathed. “Yes. I thought- Link, I’d thought the light had led us to you. I felt- so happy to finally be with you again. My little boy-“ tears slipped down her cheeks again, and she reached for Link, cupping his cheeks. “I thought- I still don’t understand- I thought I’d outlived you. I kept wishing, and wishing, and wishing in a sea of darkness to find you again.”

“We all thought you died at Fort Hateno,” Chee said quietly.

“But the light didn’t lead me to you,” said his mother with a tearful smile. “The light was you. And…” she smiled at Zelda, “you. And together…” she shook her head.

“Together you get a lot brighter,” said Chee. “Like, a lot. Way more than double.”

His mother laughed. “I don’t have the right words- to tell you- just how beautiful it is. I wish you could see it.”

Link’s sister raised her hand like a schoolchild, her eyes on Zelda, one eyebrow intensely arched.

“…Yeah, Chee?” Link asked cautiously.

“So… are you Princess Zelda?”

Zelda couldn’t help but laugh. “I am.”

Chee gawked and whacked Link’s arm.

“Ow-“

“You landed the Princess?!”

“It’s not-“

“And you didn’t even INTRODUCE her as the Princess?!!”

“Well, I didn’t want to- to-“

“To what, brag?”

“No, it’s just not what’s im-“

“It is so important-“

“Children,” their mother said.

They ceased so completely their hands froze mid-gesture.

The older woman offered her hand, palm up, to Zelda with a kind smile.

She took it, astonished to feel warm skin, no different from anyone else’s, a mere shimmer of blue at the outline setting her apart if she looked hard enough.

“My name is Junilla,” she said, placing her other hand over Zelda’s. “I am so sincerely pleased to meet you, Princess- and overjoyed that my son has found such love in his lifetime.”

Zelda returned the gesture, placing her other hand over the spirit’s. “I am grateful,” she said, “for this chance to meet you. That Link has been reunited with you after all this time…” she took a breath, “is a blessing.” Her gaze rose from Junilla to the eyes of the bargainer. The others’ gaze followed hers.

Chee traced the unfamiliar shapes of the statue’s eyes, a hand worrying in her lap. “How- how much time do we have?”

Junilla’s hand tightened for the space of a pulse around Zelda’s, searching the stone for an answer.

“The- bargainer didn’t say how long we could speak,” Link said softly, suddenly breathing strangely.

“The choice to move on is never mine,” the statue said.

Link blinked. “So- there’s no time limit?”

“I impose nothing. Yet my gift cannot extend beyond these walls.”

Link nodded, his face flat.

Ponnick and several Sheikah entered the space several times to check on them, so long they remained below.

They never appeared to notice the two strange women, though the Purah Pad had been able to take their pictures.

When she and Link finally left—at 5:17am according to the Purah Pad—the women faded without even a whisper of sound to two flickering blue flames, resting together beside the bargainer.

They would wait for Link’s father.

He and Zelda would begin their search in the depths beneath Akkala to find him—under the Citadel—though the bargainer warned that spirits may drift or become bound.

“End the final tide of gloom,” the bargainer said. “Only then may they all return home.”

Link seemed to understand.

They kept their appointments in Lookout Landing and Goron City for that morning and afternoon, having skipped their detour to the hidden spring of resurrection in favor of them. Link was unusually subdued as she’d expected, and her heart fell further and further as the day lengthened.

He’d barely smiled at Yunobo’s fist-bump.

He broke down in her arms, as she’d thought he would, at home in their bed, exhausted and shuddering with a grief which should have been foreign to him, as it should be to anyone—yet he had felt it before in lesser magnitude when the spirits of their friends, their allies, had become known to him, one by one and memory by memory, a sudden knowledge of what had been lost.

He’d even grieved over her in this way, for he’d no way to know she would emerge from the Calamity’s innards as a living being.

Zelda could not imagine it.

All she could do was hold him, kiss the crown of his head, stroke his hair, tell him it was alright.

“I am here, my love,” she said. “I am with you, and I shall stay.”

He nodded, unable, for the moment, to speak.

It was days later, the Sun a deep gold resting in a bed of lavender above the stand of trees west of their garden, when Link suddenly took her by the waist with his only-for-her smile and kissed her, gentle and questioning, then deeper as she rose to meet him, passionate, her arms wrapping about his neck, their bodies moving as a single unfettered wave. Her mouth parted from his breathless.

“L- Link,” she said.

He kissed her again, on her jaw—behind her ear.

“Are- you alright?” she breathed despite her body’s insistence that now was not the time to worry.

He breathed a very soft laugh in her ear and pulled back to look in her eyes. His hands left her hips to cup her face.

He spent a very long moment just like that. When he spoke, the sweet summer breeze danced with the sunflowers, his soft voice like its rustle through the birch leaves.

“I don’t want to remember what I’ve lost only to forget what I have.”

Her hand covered one of his, pressing it to her cheek.

“I love you so much,” he said, his smile growing, a joy nestled there despite the shadow always upon his features. A hint of mischief twitched his mouth. “So much we attract poes in the dark.”

A laugh burst from her. “Link- you are indeed the love of my life, but I’d rather thought it was our magic-“

But Link was shaking his head. “Magic, sure, for glowing when we’re alone, but… the light of a thousand Suns? That’s love. I know it.”

A memory burst to her mind’s eye, of a power as though the surface of the Sun itself, flowing from her as her knight clung to the thread of life behind her.

It had been love then. She knew that. Love of Link which had hurled her bodily before him, willing to die in his stead.

She pulled him close and tight—placed a long, gentle kiss on his cheek. He breathed a laugh and nuzzled her hair.

“You are- absolutely right, Link,” she said. “Absolutely right.”

They held each other, quiet, unhurried as the soft changes in the palette of the sky, restful as the setting sun, resting in the place sought by all the little lights far below—that place in Link’s eyes: a far deeper depth than any within this earth, for eternity had no limit.

She ought to have understood it sooner.

The lifetime of the Light Dragon had been a mere blink of an eye.

Link would love her far longer.

It wasn't transient.

Nor was his love for his sister, his mother, or his yet-unfound father. What resurrection had taken from him in life would have been found beyond the bargainer's crossing, just as she and Link would follow each other to the spirit realm, to whatever lay beyond.

Some well deep within herself whispered in the language of forgotten memories, a truth woven of silent echoes, veiled shades of her many selves passing through her as a thick-muffled feeling—and in that moment, safe and warm in Link’s arms, she felt they had done so before. Over and over again, passing in and out of death and life and realms and voids and time together, and always each other’s light.

She looked at Link, eyes and mouth wide open in a sort of shock, as though seeing him for the first time—as though just having remembered him.

“Zelda?!” He ducked, flickering from feature to feature of her face, his thumbs brushing tenderness on her cheeks and temples. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“Oh- oh yes,” she said, her voice shuddering. Her next smile glowed, for him and only him, all else in reality falling from her present. “I love you, Link.”

He grew a smile to match hers and then some. “You sound surprised,” he said with a chuckle.

She took his face in her hands and kissed his mouth, softly, full of reverence, and it felt like a first time. Link’s palm came to rest flat on the table beside her, pressing hard, bracing himself against a force Zelda felt, too, and welcomed—a compulsion to rejoin, to reunite. A shocking elation flooded her that he was wholly him, that he carried no spectre of an ancient king, no matter how benevolent, by his side, and she surged forward against him, delving, caressing: worshiping.

Her kiss released by a hair’s breadth, the heat of their lips a promise of imminence. Link’s heart raced against her elbow where it met his chest. “Z- el,” he said, utterly breathless, even more than he’d made her.

“I’ve always loved you,” she said, her voice quiet’s paramour. “And I always will.”

He stood before her, an avatar of adoration, every aspect of his being focused on her, the softness in his eyes unlike any she’d seen outside those moments he watched her at pleasure’s height. He brushed his lips to hers—not a kiss: a caress.

“You understand,” he said.

She kissed him again, her hands carding through his hair, thrilled when his eyes fluttered shut. She pulled back, a pause. “I do, now.”

“Forever,” he said.

“Through death and life again,” she answered.

In bed that night, Link slept soundly, his arms wrapped around her and his head resting on her chest. She sat partway up against the pillows, stroking his hair and thinking in a way she hadn’t in her waking life: a thinking more like feeling—more like acceptance.

This life was a gift.

A time to feel with skin, with heart and blood.

A time to be separate.

Not because they wished to be—but because it made their reunions that much more joyful.

And when it came time to fade from the physical, there would be nothing to separate them. They would be as one.

Death was not the end.

Birth was not the beginning.

And love…had neither.

She held Link a little tighter, smiling at his sleeping grumble, and closed her eyes.

#zelink #fanfiction #legend of zelda #totk #tears of the kingdom #drama #romance #humor #canon compliant #500 followers

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noirbriar · 7 months

Text

Glorestor: 5 Times They Denied (3)

+ 1 time They Did Not. From the POVs of the various folks around the 2 elves who are convinced they are courting, or betrothed, even though they were told otherwise.

Lindir has done his part! Now as we enter the Third Age, let's take a look through the eyes of the others in the lower hierarchy of power in the Last Homely House. OOCs and problems in writing are as always all on me.

---

3] The Residents of Imladris

Imladris. The Last Homely House east of the sea. It was founded to be a fortress and refuge, a haven for all. A place for healing in this gentle place for the good folk of Arda from all walks of life. Especially after the War of the Last Alliance and fall of Lindon. The many elves that now reside in the great valley of Imladris have bonded together closely despite their tumultuous past soaked in blood.

They now share festivities and celebrate the days together as one. Under the protection of Lord Elrond, they protect their home and each other from the dark forces beyond their boundaries.

Yet, much like any other proper civilisation, the quaint elven realm has her secrets.

---

Saelbeth frowns at the reports in his hands, almost as if staring hard at the figures alone will make the numbers work out. To no avail of course. With a heavy sigh, the young councillor gives up on his personal project for now and heads out of the library to join his mentor in the weekly general council meeting.

In the early days of the Valley, the quiet scholar from Lindon quickly became the primary assistant of Chief Councillor Erestor. The ellon was once skeptical considering the rumours he have heard about the once feanorian general turned advisor to the King's Herald. Though those thoughts were squashed once he realised the older elf was not just a brilliant politician but a great loremaster. Which greatly appealed to the inquisitive ellon hungry for knowledge.

It was Erestor who taught him personally in state building and trade. Where the younger elf quickly realising the great difference in the immense job of running a proper elven fortress compared to that of a regular settlement.

Now with the influx of kin from Lindon and all of Arda still recovering from the War, Imladris is healing but weary, like her Lord. Especially with the loss of their High King Gil-Galad.

Unlike other elven settlements, Lord Elrond's rule is fairly relaxed but firm in such times of necessity. Which suited the Lord of Imladris' temperament and the residents of the Valley, at least in Saelbeth's opinion. Therefore, the weekly general council meetings are never a chore to him.

Until the arriving participants notice the dour Lords at their seats.

Saelbeth darts a glance at an older member of council next to him, and then to Golradir, his fellow peer and fellow council member. Each sharing a weary look. Further up, Thandor and Laica, the Captain's deputies who were already seated, gives them a stiff nod.

They awkwardly nod back.

Great Eru have mercy, they are in for a long one. The two Lords have been at odds with the other for a long while, causing a strange shift in the air in Imladris...and looks like there is still no end in sight.

The young councillor quickly takes his place beside Lord Erestor and prepares his documents promptly. No point in antagonising his superior further with inefficiency.

The rest of the council arrives and slowly make their way to the dreaded table,marching on to their doom. Some even taking the time to tuck their new proposals and agendas back into their folders to see the light of another day.

Across the table Deputy Thandor looked as if he is struggling to be inconspicuous. Almost as if any sudden movement and he will become prey. Deputy Laica has her head up towards the ceiling wishing to be anywhere but here.

Even Lord Elrond himself had to resist with a grimace at the heavy atmosphere of the room.

Rebukes and petty words were thrown each time a subject is brought up by the other, forcing the council to remain silent for the most part. Until the dispute regarding the increase in skirmishes around the various elven havens that remain did the chaos begin.

That was when it all fell apart. Both the Balrog-slayer and Tempest of Imladris rising up to their full figure and hell bent on mincing one another apart with words alone.

It is when the difference in opinion escalates to a higher than necessary decibel, that the Lord of Imladris finally exert his authority. With a single slam of the table and some harsh words in disappointment and frustration, the chaos cease instantaneously. Effectively putting an end to the fight between his two highest ranking officials.

The very moment the meeting is adjourned and Lord Elrond has taken his leave,Lord Glorfindel storms off in a flurry of his white cloak, without a second glance. His deputies hurrying to keep up with their Captain. The rest of the Council make their quiet escape like field mice. Golradir still has the audacity to mouth a 'good luck' to him as he shuffles away.

Saelbeth stamps down his annoyance as he returns to his stoic mentor in his seat. The Lord's empty gaze fixed into nothingness for a long while before waving the younger elf away.

The young councillor turns back and watches the lone feanorian Lord for a moment. The old elf who always seem to bear a strange heaviness in his spirit, an unseen burden on his shoulders, now accompanied by only silence in the hollow room.

Saelbeth shuts the door quietly with a soft sigh.

In the passing of seasons, time crawls slowly by as they do for the eldar. Saelbeth suddenly spies his mentor working on a pattern design according to old Vanyar styles in the library while finding early records of the weather patterns of the Misty Mountains. That,clearly is none of his business. When Lord Erestor gets Saelbeth to procure certain material samples from the textile traders and vendors while doing the monthly inventory check, the Sindar does not bat an eye.

In the following year as the leaves turn, draping the valley in a bright array of gold and amber, Saelbeth stops by Lord Erestor's chambers to deliver the first harvest reports. When he is given permission to enter, he ignores his mentor's temperamental horned owl grooming itself by the window. What he first lays his eye on, is a stunning teal brocade robe decorated in gold on the mannequin the Chief Councillor seems to be fussing over in his main hall. Upon a closer look, one can even see the intricate threading of faint vines that seem like an illusion. Even if he is no expert, the assistant can clearly see it is a masterpiece.

"Saelbeth, come." Erestor calls over his shoulder without even a glance, as he pins the hem in place."Tell me, what am I missing here?"

The younger elf blinks.

"It is perfect, my Lord, but,"Saelbeth takes a pause before jumping right in," maybe it needs...a focal point?"

"Ah." Erestor looks back at his assistant at last with an owlish blink." Excellent, thank you, Saelbeth. Just leave those reports on the table for now. I shall attend to those in a bit."

With that, Saelbeth takes his leave as instructed without any questions.

Days later, Lord Glorfindel returns. The Golden Lord making his entrance abruptly still in filthy armour and his muddy travel cloak, helmet under his arm. Who has zero regard that Saelbeth is in Lord Erestor's office consulting a matter about the Conference of Ambassadors and Scholars Seminar, as he jabs an impatient thumb towards the door without pause.

"Urgent matters. Out."

The councillor’s owl perched on the Captain’s shoulder, hoots.

Saelbeth looks at the Captain as he tucks his knife back into his sleeve. The wary young councillor then turns to his Chief Councillor.

"Its fine, we will speak again on this."Erestor waves with a wry tug on the corner of his lips. Only then, does the ellon turn away with a polite bow to both, taking his leave. He even took care to lock the door behind him while he is at it. In his immense relief, he did not even realise the owl is now on his shoulder, clicking his beak.

But bless the Valar. Finally.

Later, he would spot that same gorgeous robe on the illustrious Lord of the Golden Flower during the mid-autumn festival. The light of the lanterns in the Hall of fire dancing off the shimmering crystals on the robe like dew, held together by a lovely crafted belt that compliments his powerful form, enthralling everyone he meets. A shimmering sash of the first rays of dawn draping his shoulders.His circlet on his brow with the famed golden hair flowing behind like an ephemeral flame.

The Emissary of the Valar is not alone. His companion, a dark fae draped in rich dark maroon silk that flows around his lithe figure. A hairpin with trailing teardrops made from mother-of-pearl pieces holds Erestor's ebony hair together. Crowned with his circlet, his dark smooth hair and braids glows in the dark with a soft warm hue. Even if the most interesting piece, in Saelbeth’s personal opinion, would be simple ear cuff etched with a golden flower that shines brightly on Lord Erestor’s right ear that accompanies his other earring of the feanorian star.

Towards the end of the festivities with Tilion high in the sky, he would be mighty drunk together with Golradir, and they will both stumble their way back to their own quarters to await tomorrow with their regrets. Though he swears, beneath the golden beech trees leading into the Inner Wing, he sees the incarnation of dawn and dusk sharing an unfamiliar dance under the cover of the merry dancing leaves.

---

Its raining again.

Ai...Its been two weeks and seems like the storm will not be leaving soon. Though it is very rare for such dreadful storms to hit their valley.

Guardsman Aerion sighs at the dismal weather before him as he remains at his post. He hates guard duty, with each shift the same, until Lord Glorfindel feels like dropping a random attack drill with the rookies to keep them on their toes.The only exciting thing all week had only been the sudden arrival of a Wandering Company.

Shifting his weight with a soft huff, Aerion lets his mind wander a little until something outside catches his eye. A rather strange scene in the ever peaceful House. A commotion in the courtyard out there in this dreadful weather. There in the summer storm, Erestor and Glorfindel are arguing in the punishing rain.

Erestor's restless dapple grey mare stands in the deluge beside her master in confusion at the elves fighting. Aerion is unable to hear a word over the distance but he sees Erestor turning to leave before Glorfindel pulls the councillor back harshly. Erestor looks ready to lash out but the Captain quickly wraps his arms tightly around the other ellon-

Oh. Oh ho.

It was a long while before the the two finally part, with the Golden Lord slowly getting Erestor to face him, cradling the councilor's face carefully in his hands as they spoke. It was a while more before Erestor allows himself to be tugged along by Glorfindel. The Captain taking the mare's reins from her master as he pulls them all back into safety of the shelter of the Homely House. Hmm. Guess that is his cue to let Master Lindir know, as he is heading down this way, that the servants ought to prepare a warm bath and some hot meals in Lord Glorfindel's chambers. Best to keep the staff away too. It would be terrible to disturb their peace.

---

Aeril makes her way down the Inner Wing. A tray of warm chicken broth and soft bread, some plain porridge with preserved vegetables in hand.

After settling in Imladris, she managed to secure a job as a chambermaid in the House of Lord Elrond. Even then, it was not easy. Master Lindir had been strict in his interviews as Steward, and her superior, Lady Mirien, demands nothing less than efficiency and perfection from her staff.

Imladris truly feels immensely different from Mithlond. Yet the community is nice and full of life. Her co-workers are friendly and the household management has treated her well in her transition into life in the Valley.

On her first night duty, she receives orders from a guard for selected food to be brought up to Lord Glorfindel's chambers. Aeril has long heard of the famed Lord of legends but does not let her curiosity get in the way of being professional. She arrives at the doors and balances the tray before knocking.It was not even a minute before it cracks open.

"Good evening m-"

A quick finger on his lips and a sharp look startles the young maid into silence. Once assured that all was quiet, the warrior, dressed down in casual sleeping tunic and pants and a rich green overrobe, gives a small smile of approval. A quick tilt of his hand, the mighty Lord gestures for Aeril to enter with the tray.

"Set it here along with the tea that is kept warm at the back. Then, you may leave." The Lord whispers and points to the modest dining table for the elleth to set the meal.Before he leaves into his main hall where the fireplace is burning bright.

There was shuffling and sounds of whispers and Aeril swears she only caught a glimpse because she was leaving once she concluded her duties.

In the dark elegant hall illuminated by the flames, laying across the couch with a palm supporting his head was Chief Councillor Erestor. The ever terrifying Lord was not in his usual elegant high collared ensemble, but in a sheer black robe that has the collar slipping down as he shifts in his slumber.A white fur blanket in his lap, and a threadbarescarf dyed in fierce crimson around his slender arms that is slipping down onto the carpet. Lord Glorfindel hovers above in an attempt to rouse him from his slumber. The Golden Lord's hand brushing the other's face gently.

"Eres? Eres, you need to wake up and eat something first. Elrond has said you must eat before drinking the migraine herbs."

"Hn..." Lord Erestor stirs, leaning into the warmth of the palm against his skin.

The sight was too much. The young elleth leaves a blushing mess as she hurries back to her station. Her sudden entry into the kitchens startling the other night staff and Mirien who was there checking in.

"Whats wrong, Aeril?" The older elleth asks carefully in concern but the young maid could only bury her face in her hands and return with a squeak.

"L-Lord-Glor-Glorfindel AND Lord Erestor-?!"

The staff leans back with a sigh and a roll of their eyes as realisation sinks in. Mirien pats the poor elleth gently almost sympathetically .

"You will get used to it soon, my dear."

---

Thandor wants to hurl himself into the Brunien. Now.

Eyes darting to the figure beside him, the deputy resists the urge to cringe with each turn of the page by his superior. Who looked decidedly entertained by this tiny, thin, novel in his hands. A palm sized book that belonged not to him, but borrowed from Handmaiden Aeril, who got it from another, and so on. Yet he was the last to be able to read it in their squadron, even when he was the one who got it for them!

Now the bastards are hanging further away from him to avoid being pulled into this. All of them trying to seem busy watching the rookies and advising on archery techniques like proper senior officers they are. His Captain never had issues with his soldiers doing their own thing during downtime. The charismatic Lord always casual but firm with his warriors, with great empathy and camaraderie to all under his command. Despite his trainings being ruthless and his standards for the troops are high. It is why the soldiers of Imladris respect their commander greatly.

However the problem lies in the contents of this peculiar publication. A harmless romance fantasy piece.Very well written, in very limited copies but just...a little spicy.

It was the main characters that were an obvious issue. Even to a simple warrior like himself. Heck, even an elfling can bloody see who those characters were. "This is fascinating! It is clear that that Lord Lote still desires Lord Mori despite what has happened in Court! How foolish it is for them to part on such dreadful terms! But this is absolutely engaging ...Why have you not introduced this intriguing work to me?" Glorfindel turns to Thandor animatedly.Amused by the book he had filched from his utterly distracted Deputy earlier during their quick break.

"Its not...an official publication, sir."

"Then who is this creative fellow? When we return to the House, I shall ask Erestor to have Melpomaen and the scribes to help this budding author." Glorfindel presses on brightly, utterly invested in the story. Eru, even if you do not care for this damned fea of a blood soaked feanorian, for the love of all that is good in this House- Do NOT let his ex-general even see this book.

"Captain! CAPTAIN!!"

A loud commotion from afar causes both deputy and Lord out of their conversation. It was Urthel and a few others from the second squadron. "Be calm, Officer Urthel. What disturbs you so to be making this much noise through the Barracks?" Glorfindel asks the worried ellyn as he shuts the tiny book and tucks it safely into his spare pouch. Thandor mentally sighs.

"Its Deputy Laica! She requests for your presence! Lithon and the cadets are fighting with Lady Celebrian's guards in the training hall!" With that, Glorfindel does not even wait, heading off in large strides. Thandor and Urthel shadows his steps. Where they quickly arrive to find an enraged Deputy Laica reprimanding the soldiers standing in position before her. Their faces bruised and beaten.While the newly transferred Galadhrim guards, who fair no better, are defiant even with their bloody faces. Each carrying their own argument, their voices overlapping one another's.

The Captain enters, causing the noise to cease, snapping into position as they see his arrival. The Lord’s face blank as he studies the scene and all involved.

Before Glorfindel could even begin his interrogation, Lady Celebrian herself, arrives at the scene, dressed in a silvery lavender summer dress with pearls in her hair. Beside the Lady as her guide with a hand on his arm was Erestor. Followed by her newly appointed handmaiden Aeriel, Councillor Saelbeth and Erestor's young assistant, Melpomaen.

They all bow before the Lady of Imladris.

"What is going on?" The new Lady of Imladris' bell-like voice resounds in the hall.Powerful and bright. In that instance, Celebrian looked like an echo of her formidable mother. Her elegant features now cold as steel, face filled with great disappointment. She finally turns to the guards that have followed her to this haven after her marriage.

"Guardsman Faron...What is this violence with the soldiers I hear? You were one of Lorien's best, and now you have disgraced the fine name of Lorien's warriors."

The sindar, Faron, and the other Galadhrim looked properly chastised by his Lady. Yet Glorfindel and the rest could tell that there is discontent still between the two factions as the two sides glare at the other. Celebrian sees this as well and with a twirl of her skirts, turns to Glorfindel with a heavy sigh.

"Well, Glorfindel, as my guards are now part of the army of Imladris, they too fall under your jurisdiction.I shall let you handle this as you deem fit."

"Certainly, my Lady. Though it would seem best if we are to hear what triggered this ridiculousness." Glorfindel have his hands behind, prowling down the line and inspecting each injured soldier with a sharp eye. When it was clear none were willing to volunteer the information freely, he takes his pick.

"Cadet Lithon." The Captain calls out, coming to stand before the dark haired ellon. His discontent obvious. Lithon fidgets, the young noldor remains silent for a long while, until with several nudges from his peers, he finally caves under the stern gaze of his commander. "They...they spoke ill of you and your choices, Captain." Glorfindel raises a brow at that.

"Oh?"

"They spoke of slander and said you could do better than having a..."The young cadet takes a breathe but mutters barely loud enough for all to hear,"...a 'bloody Valar-damned feanorian' like Chief Councillor Erestor for a mate."

One could hear nothing, nothing even a whisper of a breath. As if time stood still in this lazy summer afternoon within the confines of this training hall.

Hm, uncreative much? That is really not the worst they feanorians have heard before, especially back in Lindon. Kinda disappointing, Thandor thinks wryly to himself as he looks at the Galahdrim who are now shuffling uncomfortably at the attention from everyone.

Thandor sees Glorfindel's formal mask of indifference is still on. Years of working under the Captain, Thandor sees the silent rage brewing under that calm facade. The Lord of legend has absolutely zero tolerance for misdemeanour and disrespect from those under his command. Also a rare known fact is that Glorfindel actually has a formidable temper to be reckoned with despite his good and kindly nature. Like the Brunien raging on a bad day and at any other times, the deputy loves watching new recruits come to realisation at that fact.

Thandor then takes a brief moment of bravery to glance at the other party involved.Knowing his ex-superior, there are several ways this can go- But now, Erestor simply looks bored.

"Interesting. It seems like your summer drills have still allowed our troops to have energy to spin some idle thoughts." Erestor drawls, absolutely unbothered by the situation.

"Indeed. So idle that they seem to feel they have the right to delve into the private affairs of their Lords. What would you advise in this instance, Lord Erestor?" Glorfindel growls over his shoulder dryly. "I leave it to you, Lord Glorfindel, for they are your troops under your command. I am sure your boundless creativity can think of something to exercise their young, overactive brains than the thought of us being…married."

The Chief Councillor replies flatly without a glance, as he inspects the nonexistent speck of dust on his immaculately polished nails. The statement however, earns them more than a few wide eye looks ranging from confusion to bewilderedness from the present crowd.

“You jest!”

The loudest voice of surprise however, comes from Lady Celebrian herself.

"You are both not- Betrothed?" Her voice seem to leave her as her question is asked, her bright eyes wide as if in disbelief. The two Lords look at each other almost in consideration, and calmly turn back to their Lady.

"No." They replied smoothly in unison.

"C-Courting?"

"No."

Thandor is pretty sure everyone is not buying their bullshit.

Celebrian, aghast, places an elegant hand over her heart. She swivels her head like a puzzled doe with her wide eyes darting between the two other leaders of Imladris. From Glorfindel, to Erestor, and back again,scrutinising both. Even if what she seeks is what many have tried finding over the years, the marriage bond is simply non-existent between the two.

Her bright eyes then darts to that gold ear cuff on Erestor’s ear, squinting at it glittering under the summer sunlight pouring in from the windows.

Celebrian's brows furrowed , as if this is some disconcerting news and she is greatly offended by it. Thandor can hear her muttering under her breath incredulously as she processes everything,"but, that's not right...that's not what nana had said...I'm certain of it...Huh?”

There is nothing, save for the sounds of horses in the pastures, the distant waterfalls and the songs of happy little birds filling the air, and them, the first-born, shrouded in awkward silence.

"My deepest apologies, Glorfindel, Erestor. For such blatant disgrace and dishonour my guards have brought upon you. I shall leave their punishment to you both. But now if you will excuse me, I must speak to my husband at once." Celebrian declares this hastily and abruptly with great determination. She gestures for Handmaiden Aeril to lead her away as the rest bow as she leaves.

Glorfindel then finally turns to the soldiers, who remembers the trouble they are in. Now, they finally shall face the full brunt of the Lord of old Gondolin's ire.

"Well. I hope you all had your fill of entertainment for today, at the expense of myself and Lord Erestor. Good to know indiscipline exists in my ranks. What's next? Insubordination? It seems I am clearly too lax with you lot!"

Glorfindel does not need to shout, his voice demands nothing but absolute compliance to his orders as the soldiers remain still at his command. Before he turns to the Galadhrim guards, leaning into each of them down the line, as they struggle not to falter under the fierce eyes of the Balrog Slayer.

"By her Lady's grace, I hope you all are ready for what I have in store. Because as your Captain, I will make sure I will drill it into you to understand that this House, under the rule of Lord Elrond, does not accept your absurd notions and prejudices. It has no place here now or ever! Vanyar, Noldor, Telari, Avari, regardless of parentage or history, you will get that into your heads and you accept that as you are now one of Imladris! Or its straight back to Lorien you go! I do not care what Lord Celeborn or Lady Galadriel has to say! Is that clear?!" "Yes Sir!"

Glorfindel straightens to his full height and lets out a heavy huff, turning to Erestor with a weary look.

"My apologies Councillor, be assured they will all be dealt with.You will have a report and once I am through with them I shall send the soldiers for you to mete out an appropriate punishment.You have my word. " Glorfindel steps closer to Erestor who waves his apology away with an elegant hand.

"I shall leave it to you then, Captain.I see you have the problem in hand." The Chief Councillor finally lays his sharp gaze on the warriors, unnerving every young elf. Especially Faron, as he tries desperately not to make eye contact with the old feanorian general. The little welps shall reap the consequences later for their stupidity, but it would be fine, Erestor is fair, that Thandor knows.

The feanorian reminisces the days in Himring where he was born. Where Middle-Earth was harsh and their other kin despised them. Yet they endured.There is a reason why the feanorians remained till the bitter end, not for glory, but for the love their Leaders had given to those under them. Despite the hand they were dealt with themselves, the feanorians shared kindness amongst themselves, where there was none for them.

When everything was lost, there was no one left but their precious twin Lords Elrond and Elros. It was Erestor, their young general, who single-handedly kept the twins alive in Lindon with them, the unwanted, the strays and the remnants of a broken and hated House.

The dark haired elf wanders closer to the taller elf, laying a hand on Glorfindel’s chest, easing that deep frown slightly, seemingly calming the displeased Captain.

Oy.Oy.Oy. You both do remember where this is? Thandor resists burying his face into his hands with a snort.

The height difference is not much,but Erestor still leans up to Glorfindel's ear, lips nearly brushing an earlobe. With absolutely no regards to their audience watching attentively at all.He drops his voice into a bare whisper, with Glorfindel remaining silent.Azure eyes gleaming in concentration, possibly using Osanwe in reply. Effectively keeping the conversation between themselves, until Erestor finally pulls away. Slate green eyes meeting dazzling blues filled with light.

Great. They are seriously not convincing anyone being like that.Ah…If only Lord Maedhros and Lord Maglor can see their ferocious general now. Now that would be funny.

"Well then, I see my presence is not required here anymore in any case. "Erestor announces flatly with disinterest. His dark gaze lingers on Glorfindel for a moment, dragging his fingers along the warrior's arm before he turns to take his leave with Councillor Saelbeth and Melpomaen-

Only to be nearly rammed into by a silvery blur that is their Lady running back, skirts in hand.As she rushes back into the Barracks. Her Handmaiden trailing behind in wild panic.

"WAIT! Wait,wait! So- everything in the book is not true??"

Erestor stares at the Lady, his brows in a deep frown.

"Book? What book?"

Saelbeth’s face scrunches in visible pain, young Melpomaen pales,while the soldiers of Imladris struggle to remain calm. Which earns them more weird looks from their new brother-in-arms from Lorien.

Thandor tiredly shuts his eyes to the disaster before him, and sighs.

---

A/N: Elves of Arda work hard but the gossip mills of Imladris work harder! And what better way to immerse into a new city and bond with your teammates than to have wagers on your bosses’ love life!

This was too damn long and OOC and got out of hand im so sorry.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

#the silmarillion #glorestor #erestor #glorfindel #saelbeth #celebrian #the elves of imladris #and some from lorien #OOC and OCs #ficlet

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