#because i must stay true to my origins as an angst queen

[malkavi-ann]

When the Truth Hurts. Chapter 1

Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erdtree fanfiction

Rating: Mature (May change in the future)

Relationship: F/M

Pairing: Messmer the Impaler/Original Female Character

Tags: Self-Loathing, Reference to Depression, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Messmer is bad at feelings, Mommy Issues, Abandonment Issues.

Link to Ao3

Chapter 1: Marika’s Imposter

The next day came and went by just as any other one. It would have been another dull day except for one peculiar event that might have changed everything.

It was time to hear the reports from the patrolling troops. Usually, the foot soldiers and scouts would report their observations to the Red Knights, and then the latter would deliver the reports to Messmer, Commander Gaius, and Lady Rellana. Today was no exception: his knights arrived on time to the Dark Chamber but something was strange about them. Somehow, they seemed nervous, yet excited at the same time. Clearly, something out of the ordinary had happened to stir their usually collected and calm composure.

“My Lord, our scouts have noticed some unusual presence of the blood fiends to the south of the Gravesite Plain.”, one of them spoke nervously. Such news was certainly unexpected, although bloodfiends were never a concern for Messmer. Most of the time, these monsters were a nuisance causing minor clashes with his soldiers.

“Bloodfiends, you say? What of them? Bloody monsters are none of our concern”, exclaimed Commander Gaius, his voice booming like thunder across the chamber. Gaius was Messmer’s most loyal general and close friend, so his opinions always mattered. “This is true, but there’s more to it.”, replied the knight. Well, now Messmer himself was intrigued. “Our scouts went to investigate the activity…err… just to make sure there was no foul business”. “Anyway, they found this hut that the fiends were gathering around. It looked like they were worshipping something or maybe someone there. So, they waited until the night, and then they saw…umm… a woman coming out of the hut.”, the hesitation in his voice became almost palpable.

“So, the blood fiends are worshipping a woman? That is rather unusual but once again, it is nothing of interest to us”, Messmer finally said. This whole conversation started to annoy him. “Our enemy is the Hornsent, and we must focus on fighting them”.

“My Lord, the scouts had a look at that woman. And they swear…”, the knight paused, mulling his words. “…They swear she looked like Queen Marika.”

The chamber all of a sudden fell silent. The fact that they have not heard anything from Queen Marika after so many years of the crusade – HER crusade – made it extremely difficult to talk about her persona so openly. These days discussing Marika’s plans or intentions regarding Messmer and his army has become taboo. She was a god and it was her will to wage this holy war. No one was allowed to doubt her, even if her crusade no longer had a purpose. But to think that she might be back to the Land of Shadow, was absolute madness. Or was it?

As soon as his mother’s name was mentioned, Messmer froze in his seat. “That cannot be…”, his mind was racing. His common sense was telling him that the scouts got it all wrong, but his heart still had a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, his mother had actually returned. “It still doesn’t make sense. Why would she stay at some god-forsaken hut? And why would bloodfiends worship her?”, Messmer thought to himself.

When he finally snapped out of his stupor, Messmer could only ask one thing: “Are they quite certain of what they saw? Because if I find out that this was a mistake or someone is trying to fool me, I will NOT be merciful.” The knight took a deep breath, “Yes, my Lord, they swore that it was Queen Marika that they’d seen. They said it was a tall woman with golden braided hair wearing a black dress”.

“Hmm, that does sound like her but why would she choose to stay so far from the Keep, where her troops would celebrate her arrival?” this time it was Commander Gaius who voiced Messmer’s doubts.

“What if someone is pretending to be her?”, interjected Rellana, who had been listening quietly to the conversation. “Why would anyone do that?”, said Messmer. The knights exchanged glances but said nothing. The thought of someone trying to be Marika’s imposter was, to put it mildly, ludicrous. Despite her status as a goddess, she was not revered in the Land of Shadows, not after what her son and his army had done to the Hornsent. So, impersonating Marika wouldn’t end well for anyone. Unless there was some foul play at hand to further disgrace the Queen. And if that was the case, Messmer could not allow that to happen.

“Whoever this person is, if they are trying to fool us, I will end their life without hesitation.”, he proclaimed. “I shall embark on a journey to that place tomorrow morning”. Now it was Gauis’ and Rellana’s turns to exchange looks: Messmer rarely left his chamber, let alone the Keep. “My Lord, may I suggest sending a bigger group of scouts to investigate this matter further?”, said Rellana tactfully. “If this is indeed some imposter, then it might not even be worth spending your precious time on traveling to the Gravesite Plain.”

“When it comes to my mother’s reputation, I will not stand by idly.”, replied Messmer sharply, his words cutting through the air like a hot knife. “Nevertheless, your suggestion sounds sensible. Commander, I trust you can arrange an expedition by the morrow.” “Aye, my Lord.” Gaius nodded.

“Very well. The rest of you, you may return to your duties.” And with that, everyone headed back to their quarters. The dark chamber was empty again, leaving Messmer alone with his serpents and thoughts to keep him company.

The next morning Commander Gaius ordered a group of soldiers who were led by one of the Black Knights to locate the hut and investigate the possible imposter. The journey would take a day at most, so everyone expected the expedition to return after a day or two. However, several days had gone by, and neither the scouts nor their leader returned. Despite the relatively small size of the expedition, the soldiers were well-equipped for a battle if they had to engage in one. Therefore, their absence was unexpected and slightly concerning.

The days turned into a week, yet no one from the expedition made it back. Messmer started to get anxious. He craved for answers while secretly dreaming of meeting his mother once again. Finally, he could wait no longer. On the tenth day, Messmer summoned Gaius and Rellana to his chamber. Commander was the first one to arrive while Rellana joined them slightly later since she had to travel from Castle Ensis.

“Commander Gaius, Lade Rellana, I have summoned you today to discuss the missing expedition.”, Messmer started calmly. “I have made the decision to set off on the journey myself, and I will need your assistance in this matter”. Both Gaius and Rellana silently nodded in response.

“I will need Commander to accompany me on this journey. We shall also bring some troops with us in case we face any resistance.” It was clear from Messmer’s cut-and-dry tone that he was not going to change his mind about this endeavor. “As you wish, my lord.”, said Gaius with a slight bow.

“And you, lady Rellana,”, Messmer turned to her, “I would like you to stay in charge of the Keep while I’m away”.

“I would be honored to fulfill your order, my lord”, said Rellana, albeit with a slight disappointment.

“We shall set off tomorrow morning. If everything goes well, we will return the next day.”

[master-sass-blast]

Strong as Stone --Part Eighteen

*claps hands together* Four hours of sleep! Four hours of sleep! Fuck my life, it’s all goin’ to hell, because I’ve only had four hours of sleep!

And, as well all know by now, sleep deprivation spells ‘best writing mood’ for me, so... WELCOME BACK!

Last time we saw the continuation of Okoye’s struggle to track down Klaue’s associate in ‘Cat and Mouse, Part Two.’ This week is the third installment of our favorite General’s/general queen’s quest to apprehend the thief. Next week will bear a chapter about Dewani’s birthday.

Rating: T.

Warnings: Use of strong language, brief sexual themes, description of explosions.

Pairings: Okoye x M’Baku and Shuri x OC.

@the-last-hair-bender

Challenges are the most natural part of life, even more so than times of ease and peace. Life itself is the greatest challenge of all: the struggle against death.

Being a Dora Milaje is a constant state of challenge. You have to learn to overcome, how to work with tremendous odds stacked against you. You have to learn how to produce results again and again and again and again.

There are times where you will face challenges that will continually best you, no matter how well you plan or how fast you act. When that happens, step away. Refresh your mind. Come back renewed and ready to try again.

When you do, you’ll often find that the solution was right in front of you all along.

“Shuri, you said this was an emergency.”

“It is!”

Okoye smirked as T’Challa sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

The teenage princess was standing amidst a sea of clothes, frowning as she held up article after article of clothing, only to toss each one aside in turn. “I can’t decide which dress I should wear to Dewani’s birthday celebration.”

“Shuri--”

“Brother, listen to me. This is vitally important. I’m going to be meeting Dewani’s friends from the Jabari lands while we’re up there for her birthday. I need to make a good impression, and that includes not looking like a complete and total idiot at the main celebration.” She held up two dresses, both long sleeve; one was red with gold and black patterning, while the other was blue with silver and green diamonds. “I think I’ve narrowed it down to these two. Which one looks better for a birthday party?”

“You think?” T’Challa echoed, exhausted and incredulous.

Okoye simply smiled. “You could always ask Dewani for which dress would be most appropriate.”

“And take the easy way out?”

“Yes,” T’Challa muttered under his breath. “Please. Take the easy way out.”

Dewani poked her head into Shuri’s room. “What’s the easy way out?”

Shuri let out a delighted squeal and ran over to her girlfriend. “You’re here! I thought you wouldn’t arrive until dinner!”

Dewani laughed and spun Shuri in an enthusiastic hug. “I convinced M’Baku to let us leave earlier.”

“More like annoyed me until I relented,” M’Baku said as he followed Dewani into Shuri’s room. He kissed Okoye on the temple before eyeing the clothing carnage. “Tell me, are tornadoes naturally occurring catastrophes down here?”

“Only the in the form of the Princess,” Okoye replied quietly as Shuri showed off her two top dress picks.

“The red one looks nice,” Dewani said as she sat on the edge of Shuri’s bed.

“Ah,” Shuri said in a pleased tone that wasn’t the least bit subtle. “So, you like the red one better than the blue one.”

Dewani smirked. “The blue one looks pretty, too. I’m sure whichever one you pick will look great on you.” She chuckled when Shuri deflated and pointed at the red dress. “Blue is one of our holy colors, reserved for servants and students of Hanuman; you’re better off going with red.”

“A simple solution,” T’Challa said, relief evident in his voice. “Dewani, you have my thanks.”

“Hang on. I still haven’t decided one which shoes I’m wearing, to say nothing of accessories.”

“T’Challa, the leader of the River tribe would like to speak with you,” Ramonda said as she paused by Shuri’s bedroom door. “He’s waiting right now.”

“Alas, I have been summoned. I’m sure you’ll manage without me, Shuri.”

“He doesn’t look too upset,” M’Baku mumbled as T’Challa beat a hasty retreat from his sister’s room.

“This isn’t the first time Shuri’s pulled him in for a fashion consultation,” Okoye whispered. “She had him in here for three hours at one point.”

M’Baku winced and shot her a conspiratorial look. “Do you think she’s distracted enough that we could leave without them noticing?”

Okoye mulled it over.

On one hand, Shuri definitely didn’t need a babysitter. Okoye knew from personal experience that Shuri kept her room stocked with enough hidden weaponry --in case of emergencies--to equip several armies. Furthermore, Okoye wasn’t a babysitter; she still had work to do in light of her upcoming trip to celebrate Dewani’s birthday. Besides, Shuri was seventeen and Dewani a week away from being seventeen as well. The girls were almost adults --they could handle being mature and responsible.

On the other hand, it definitely wouldn’t be appropriate to leave two teenagers alone, in a bedroom, without any real supervision.

Before Okoye could decide one way or the other, Ramonda walked back into Shuri’s room. “I can keep an eye on the girls for now. I know you have more duties to attend to, General Okoye; Chief M’Baku, you’re free to use the palace amenities as you like.”

M’Baku grinned at Okoye as they walked out of the Princess’s room together. “Well, that was easier than expected.”

M’Baku followed her to her office, citing ‘wanting to speak with her in private’ as his reason. However, as soon as the door closed, he picked her up and pinned her against it, mouth zeroing in on her neck.

Okoye let out a gasp and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I thought you wanted to talk to me.”

“I do. Specifically between your legs.”

Okoye rolled her hips against his as his hands squeezed her ass. “M’Baku, I have work to do.”

“Is this you asking me to stop?”

Okoye thought it over for a moment, then pulled his head up by his short locks and pulled him in for a bruising kiss. “No.”

M’Baku chuckled and started undoing the clasps on her belt.

“So, how do the Jabari celebrate their birthdays?”

“It’s not too different from how Shuri celebrated hers. There’s a main celebration with the village or tribe members, and then a private celebration for family and friends.”

Okoye sat back in her seat, content to listen --as usual--as Ramonda and Dewani talked. She’d been invited to dinner with the family --a regular occurrence whenever M’Baku and Dewani were staying at the palace.

She’d adjusted to the idea of eating a meal with the people she worked for over the past year. It still didn’t feel as natural as eating with M’Baku during their vacations together or sharing a meal with her friends, though she doubted it ever would.

Her entire life had been shaped into serving the Udakus --not a complaint, just a fact. She wasn’t going to overcome the formalities and training that she’d breathed in during her youth in a little under a year.

“Are you looking forward to your birthday?” Ramonda asked with a warm smile.

Dewani shrugged. “Yes and no. I mean, it’s going to be all about me, which will be great--”

Okoye hid her smirk behind her wine glass when she saw T’Challa roll his eyes; the expression on his face translated roughly to ‘she’s just like M’Baku.’

“--but my uncle has to attend the family celebration, which sucks.”

Shuri frowned. “Why does he keep showing up everywhere? Can’t you issue a restraining order against him?”

“Dewani will be allowed to contest his abuse towards her once she’s eighteen,” M’Baku said, expression solemn. “Until then, he’s allowed free movement through the territory.”

“But he keeps terrorizing her. Can’t you, like, ban him from seeing her?”

“I could. Unfortunately, I’ve made some unpopular decisions with the more traditional elders --elders that my uncle has a great deal of sway over. If he can turn the tribe against me, I’ll lose my position as Chief and custody of my sister. I’m sure you can understand why I don’t want that to happen.”

Shuri scrunched up her face. “Unpopular decisions? What unpopular decisions?”

M’Baku raised an eyebrow at her. “Rejoining the rest of Wakanda, mostly.”

“A decision that allowed me to meet my soulmate, thank you very much,” Dewani interjected as she elbowed her brother in the side. “The elders can go suck--”

“Dewani.”

“--on a lemon, which will still be sweeter than they are.”

“Nice save,” Okoye murmured. She shared a grin with Dewani. “Are you going to show her a bridge building?”

Dewani’s eyes lit up and she turned to Shuri. “Yeah! There’s one scheduled for the third day of your visit.”

“I’ll admit, I’m really looking forward to seeing how you handle infrastructure challenges up there.” Shuri looked at Okoye. “Have you seen one yet?”

Okoye nodded. “Chief M’Baku took me to one the last time I was in the Jabari lands.”

“What’s it like?”

Okoye shared a smile with M’Baku before responding. “It’s not like anything you’ve ever seen --or will ever see.”

“I’m not sure this was a good idea.”

“You say that every time we reveal another side of Wakanda to the outside world.”

“That’s because it’s relevant every time we do.”

Okoye smiled slightly as a group of scientists from around the world walked towards Shuri’s lab. “It’s just for today, and then they’re gone.”

M’Baku let out a huff. “Good.”

“And then,” Okoye added, “we’ll be back in the Jabari lands to celebrate your sister’s birthday.”

That finagled a ghost of a smile out of him. “Believe me, I’m looking forward to it.”

Okoye liked to think of herself as smart --and, as far as she was concerned, she was. Her job was multi-faceted --from running missions to arranging work schedules to coordinating multi-team events--and she handled it all with ease and what effort she needed.

However, in the face of Shuri’s rapid-fire, detailed explanation about Wakanda’s latest development in cancer treatments, she found it difficult to keep her eyes from glazing over.

Oh well. You never could be good at everything.

Most of the scientists were polite enough and intensely focused on Shuri’s lecture, but Okoye couldn’t help but notice that there were a few gazes among the group --most of them white, no surprise there--that kept slipping back to M’Baku and Dewani. Her grip on her spear tightened when she caught one scientist look the Jabari siblings up and down with a sneer of disdain. We invite you in to our country, share our knowledge with you, and your first instinct is to judge members of our nation for how they dress?

She forced herself to take a deep breath and recenter herself. It’ll be over soon.

“Does anyone have any questions for myself or my co-presenters?” Shuri asked as she turned off her lecture display.

“Yes,” one of the scientists replied, turning to face M’Baku. “Do the Jabari use the vibranium technology as well? I noticed there weren’t any contributions from your tribe.”

“We do not.”

“So, what do you use?”

“Our technology.”

Okoye had to smother a laugh as the scientist floundered to respond to M’Baku’s short, vague answer. It was an asshole move, yes, but there was something deeply satisfying in seeing the Westerner get run around.

“And... what is that technology based on?”

“Our traditions.”

“The Jabari tribe follow different philosophies to those of the rest of Wakanda,” T’Challa interjected diplomatically. “That includes not using vibranium in their technological developments. I appreciate your curiosity over those differences, but we have assured them that their privacy will be respected as we connect Wakanda to the rest of the world. Thank you for understanding.”

There were a few other questions, and then the lecture closed and the scientists started filing out of the room.

“You can be such an asshole sometimes,” Okoye murmured to M’Baku, an amused smile playing at her lips.

He smirked down at her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you liked it.”

She opened her mouth to respond, then stumbled into M’Baku when someone bumped into her.

“Sorry! So sorry!” An Indian scientist winced as she adjusted the thick framed glasses that were perched on her nose. “Are you alright? I am so sorry, I wasn’t watching.”

“It’s fine--” Okoye paused, then peered at the scientist. “Do I know you? Have we met somewhere?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “I... I do not believe so.” She extended her hand. “Dr. Chetna Khatri.”

“General Okoye.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Dr. Khatri replied in her thick accent. “Again, I am so sorry for knocking into you.” She let out a soft laugh. “I need to watch where I am going better.”

Okoye smiled politely. “It’s fine. I’ve dealt with worse.” She watched the woman walk off, eyes narrowing.

Something about the doctor seemed eerily familiar, but she couldn’t place it. I know I’ve seen that face before. I just can’t remember... where...

M’Baku clasped her shoulder. “Come on, love. We need to head back to palace.”

Okoye studied Dr. Khatri for a moment longer, then sighed and let the thought go as she followed M’Baku out of the room.

“I’m really looking forward to seeing what the Jabari lands are like.”

“You’ve been up there before.”

“Only for about forty-eight hours --and I spent most of that time inside.”

Dewani’s sunny countenance fell slightly at the mention of her grandmother’s death, but she perked back up in a few seconds. “Well, I can’t wait to see your reaction to the bridge building. I think your eyes are going to pop out of your head.”

“You know that’s scientifically and anatomically impossible, right?”

“Duh, but it’s such a poignant descriptor, no?”

Okoye smiled slightly as she trailed after Dewani and Shuri.

The sun was setting as they ambled through the palace. The scientists had long been sent on their way, and all that was left was to finish packing for their imminent trip to the Jabari lands.

Okoye reached out and nudged M’Baku’s arms. “There. Was that so bad?”

“Yes,” M’Baku said with a cheeky smile. “Absolutely horrendous. I don’t know how I’ll ever recover.” He interlocked his fingers with hers. “You’re coming with us, right?”

“Of course. And, I’m taking vacation days so that I don’t have to act as a guard while I’m staying with you.”

M’Baku beamed. “Wonderful.”

“Shuri,” Ramonda called out as she walked towards her daughter, accompanied by T’Challa and Nakia. “Are you ready for our departure?”

“Yes, mother.” Shuri looked down as her kimoyo beads pinged.

“And have you tidied your room for your packing efforts?”

Shuri frowned as she studied a read out projected by her kimoyo beads. “Uh... yeah...”

Ramonda put her hands on her hips. “Shuri, can I have your undivided attention, please?”

“...Yeah...”

“Shuri. Now, please.”

Shuri peered at the display, did a double-take, then uttered a loud and distressed, “What the fuck?!”

Ramonda inhaled sharply as T’Challa snorted. “Shuri!”

“They’re back in the system! Klaue’s associate!” Shuri scowled as she tried to manipulate the display. “How did they do that? I completely redid our security measures!”

Okoye called Ayo. “Commander, what are the latest whereabouts on Klaue’s associate?”

“We just got a location lock on one of the stolen vibranium tubes. I’m sending you the coordinates now.”

“With me, General,” T’Challa said as he ran towards the flight hangar. “This ends tonight.”

Yes, Okoye thought as she sprinted after T’Challa, spear in hand. It does.

Patagonian Desert, Argentina; 3 AM GMT.

“We’re approximately five miles out from the coordinates Ayo sent me,” Okoye said as she piloted the stealth craft through Argentinian airspace.

“There,” T’Challa said, pointing at a dark building on the horizon. “That’s it.”

Okoye sped the craft forward and landed it about thirty feet away from the building. She darted after T’Challa, spear in hand.

“I’m picking up three distinct life signs,” T’Challa whispered as he crept towards the warehouse. “But there’s something... off about them.”

“How so?” Okoye asked as she scanned the desert for enemies before approaching the door.

“I don’t know.”

“Well,” Okoye grunted as she used her spear to break the lock on the door. “We’ll figure it out once we’re inside.” She kicked the door in and peered in the warehouse.

A metal object that vaguely resembled a computer tower sat on the center of the warehouse floor. It made a screeching noise as she stepped over the threshold, then started vibrating. A panel on the front turned on, revealing a quickly counting down timer.

Okoye’s eyes widened. “Bomb! It’s a bomb!”

She and T’Challa booked it away from the warehouse, trying to gain as much distance between them and the explosive. They made it about thirty feet, and then T’Challa pulled her down, shielding her from the shockwave and shrapnel with his panther suit-clad body.

Okoye winced and stood once the worst of the explosion had finished. Her ears were ringing slightly, and her lungs were burning from the noxious plume of smoke and dust that was wafting off the ruins of the warehouse. She watched, equal parts horrified and pissed off, as a helicopter emerged from behind the smoke cloud, flying away and disappearing into the night sky.

“I think those were the life signs I picked up on,” T’Challa panted as he watched the helicopter. “Why couldn’t I tell that they were behind the building?”

“Because we’ve got a serious bug in our system.” Okoye let out a growl and smacked the end of her spear against the parched desert floor. “Bast dammit! How do we keep losing them?”

“I’m starting to think that Shuri and Dewani’s theory about Klaue’s associate having the ability to manipulate technology --or at least some seriously good hacking skills--is right. There’s no other reasonable explanation for why we can’t track them down ---or how they keep breaking into our system.”

Okoye scowled at the burning wreckage. “This has to end. We can’t afford to keep such a dangerous loose end untied.”

“I agree, General, but for now there’s nothing for it. All we can do is head back to Wakanda and track the associate to their next location.”

Okoye shot one last irritated glare at the smoldering warehouse, then followed T’Challa back to the stealth craft.

“You’re going to burn a hole through the floor if you keep glaring at it like that.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m serious, ‘koye. What did that floor even do to warrant your ire?”

“Ha ha.”

M’Baku frowned, then sat down and wrapped his hand around hers. “What is it, Okoye? You’ve been stormy since you came back to Wakanda --and don’t just brush it off as lack of sleep. I know you better than that.”

Okoye sighed. “We missed Klaue’s associate again. They had a trap waiting for us.”

“I know, but I don’t think that’s what’s got you so worked up right now. You’ve had difficult missions before.”

Okoye fought the urge to grind her teeth together. “I don’t like having loose ends. They make far more mess than they’re worth. And this is a loose end we can’t afford; vibranium in the wrong hands could spell the end of the world.”

“I understand your trepidation, but I don’t think the associate’s going to sell the vibranium.”

Okoye frowned up at him. “How can you be sure?”

“It’s been what, several months since we learned of the existence of the associate, right? If they were going to sell the vibranium, they would’ve done it by now.”

Okoye blinked as the revelation sank in. “You’re right... but I still wouldn’t rule out sale as an option.”

“Right. Don’t remove it from the table, but I don’t think it’s their primary motivation.”

“Then... what would they be trying to do with the stolen vibranium?”

M’Baku shrugged. “Only Hanuman knows.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and smiled. “But enough about work. You’re technically off the clock.”

She smirked up at him. “Yes, technically I am.”

“So, that means it’s time to rest. No more work talk.”

Okoye chuckled, and settled against M’Baku as she tried to relax.

It wasn’t easy. She was still deeply enraged over letting Klaue’s associate slip through her fingers, and even more worried by the prospect that they didn’t seem to have any way of keeping the associate out of their computer system.

No leads, no witnesses, just the trail that kept being left for them --a trail that Klaue’s associate was in control of. Okoye was certain that they were being lead around on purpose, that every new hint was purposeful and placed to keep them right where Klaue’s associated wanted them.

Breathe, Okoye told herself as she closed her eyes to meditate. You need some time away from this. Rest, and come back with a fresh mind.

She exhaled slowly and let all thoughts about Klaue’s associate and failed missions go.

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Thranduil and Josie Part 75- Fuel

Summary: Raven bursts into flames and sends them shooting straight for hopeless Haldir. Marius hydrates the firebug. Raven spews foretelling threats. Jo and Haldir have a small heart to heart chat. The noble Marchwarden still carries a torch for her that nothing can extinguish. Josie updates Thranduil on the info she learned after the morning's gathering. Yandere Thranduil comes out to play. A sweet little sex capade takes place. The next morning comes. Haldir and Legolas enjoy the snow. Josie has more ominous dreams. One in particular has her begging Thranduil for them to leave asap. Garrett shows up still in a mood over the painting. He just couldn't stay away from the Queen. They have quite a long informative talk as he tries to help the disconcerted lady of light. Garrett departs a happy vamp.

Warning-*SMUT* with some accentuating dirty talk.

*Angst*

"This is for my father!!!" Raven screamed as she became a human flamethrower and sent jet fire fueling at Haldir.

Your shield was faster than a speeding bullet as it encased Haldir fully. He sheltered his face as the flames showered off of your impenetrable light.

You could see Marius as he stood behind her cooking up some magic of his own. Water........ fire's weakness.

"It is time for you to cool down nuisance!" With that said, he doused the water over her like a tidal wave.

Her red heat turned to cool blue as she desperately tried to fight the liquid enemy but her power was diminishing. Down she went to the floor on her hands and knees soaking wet with electrical sounds zapping off of her. All of her magic became water logged, literally.

Marius towered over her gloating with his dexterous win. "Some people fight fire with fire. I find water to be more efficient. In your case...salt water."

"Looks like the drowned rat got served her own rat poison." you snickered as you thought of her threat to Louie. "I warned you that if you ever tried to hurt Haldir, you would answer to me."

With the little energy she had, she weakly laughed and leered up at you.

"You did nothing but shield him! If Marius was not here, you would have weakened because you're weak! and your precious hero would be burnt toast as we speak." She turned to Haldir with a wicked grin. "Maybe you'll get the girl after all. Her own husband left her here to fend for herself which speaks volumes on how much he really loves her."

"Let's go. You know the rules for when you have your episodes!" Marius snapped and picked her up.

She tried to struggle away but had no strength. "You can lock me in the dungeons all you want but it will not change the inevitable. You're all in for one hell of a surprise. You my sister will soon know of true suffering and loss. For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore. Nameless here for evermore." Raven cackled as Marius swept her away.

You then threw your arms around Haldir. "Please tell me you're alright! I did my best to protect you."

He smiled and squeezed you tight. "Yes. I am fine. I could feel the heat but it was tolerable. You saved me again...looks like you are one up on me now." he chuckled. You began to sob. "Hey. Jo." He kissed your head and made you look at him. "Talk to me."

"I have made such a mess of things. Raven was right. If Marius hadn't been here, you'd be dead right now. I can't even fathom the thought of that...and Thranduil...she was also right...he just left me here. And Garrett....what he must think of me now..."

"Ok first of all, did you forget about this?" He pulled out the emerald pendant from his tunic. "It would have obstructed the fire just as your shield did. It's of vampire origins remember? And what is one of the things deadliest to a vampire? Fire.... and Jo...I have to side with Thranduil here, I am sorry. What were you thinking having that painting done? Since when do you care as to what he thinks of you? And....I...I observed you earlier with him. Your little vampire waltz in the sky per se."

You let your arms fall from him. "Well then you didn't spy long enough. I almost fell down a large flight of stone stairs if you must know and he saved me from that. And...the painting...I don't think I owe you any explanation." you huffed.

"I kind of think you do. He left me for dead remember?? But you definitely owe Thranduil one."

You knew he was right but didn't want to argue. "Can you just walk me to my room please. I need to find him."

On the way, Haldir was unusually quiet. Something else was bothering him. "So...do you want to tell me what you were really doing with Raven since you're so curious about Garrett?" you said with a hint of sarcasm.

He stared at the floor as you both kept walking. "I guess it won't hurt to tell you now since she already tried to make good on a previous threat. She attempted to recruit me into conspiring against you and Garrett so she could have him to herself."

You peered up at him in confusion. "Why would she ask you? She hates you. I don't get......oh." You did get it. "She tried to make you think you and I could...."

"Jo, she knew about us...and I swear. I never complied. I would never do that to you. I flat out refused and she damn near choked me to death. I did not care about me but she threatened to hurt you if I said anything to anyone. Jo...her little sob story in the sitting room this morning, it was all an act. She admitted it and she gloated about it. She's a cold blooded killer Jo."

"Yeah...I'm beginning to see that." You took his hand and kept walking. "I know you would never have went along with her schemes. It's not who you are and I know you would never do anything to hurt me."

He glanced down at you. "I would die first. I told her that too."

You then stared at the floor too as you walked. You didn't have to say anything. He knew you felt the same way about him. Arriving at your door, you pulled him into another hug. "I am so sorry for everything Haldir. You have risked so much for me and still continue to do so. Please don't ever leave." Your grip on him tightened as you thought about Raven's oblique words of suffering and loss.

"You should know by now you are stuck with me." he grinned sweetly. "Glenn- hi. (Go now) Fix things with Thranduil." The pain in his eyes was agonizing to see as you lightly smiled, opened your door and watched him uprightly walk away.

Thranduil's scent lingered in the room but he was not there. You lit some candles and placed them around a large white fur rug in front of the fireplace, then sat down with the book you found in the library and waited for him. Garrett told you that you shouldn't tell anyone about it, but you knew you had to tell Thranduil. If Caroline was capable of killing one man you loved, then she was certainly capable of killing another. And Raven rendered her words as seemingly prophetic. Not to mention, she told you someone will die.

You never heard your stealthy husband come in but his delicious aroma alerted you to his presence. He gave you a cold glance and headed straight to the wine table.

You kept your gaze on the fire. "You left me there....unprotected..." you whispered with a sniffle.

Thranduil knocked back the drink and poured another. "Seems you had sufficient aid when I arrived." The yandere side of him rang loud and clear in his words.

"But not when you left..... She tried to kill Haldir....." you bluntly noted.

The sound of his chalice slamming down startled you. "Is...he...." Thranduil actually seemed genuinely worried which shocked you.

"He's fine. Thanks for asking." you piped and sniffled again as your nose was running from the tears you were harboring. "No thanks to me though. Raven tried to torch him. All I could do was shield him which worked but it wouldn't have lasted. So Marius saved him. Some kind of water magic and then he took her away. Haldir said the pendant would have shielded him too, so really, my power did nothing." You slammed the book on the floor and brought your knees to your chest, burying your head in them and began sobbing.

A refreshing lilac scent mixed with sweet grapes brushed over you as his soft hand laid upon your shoulder. "You are still acquiring all of your power. I know it is frustrating but it will all become efficacious when you are ready to fully embrace it. Something so compelling cannot be exacted."

You lifted your head and turned your drenched eyes to see Thranduil kneeling beside you as his sympathetic orbs wandered about your face. "Thranduil...my mother made me kill my father...." Your horrifying words sent you into a bawling mess. He quickly cradled you in his loving arms.

"My love....how do you know such a thing?"

"It's all there...in that evil black book." You pointed at the blank covered hardback laying at your feet. "I found it in the library. I was looking for Ashmole 782. Someone threw this book in the fire and Gar.....it wouldn't burn. I opened it directly to a spell that uses Belladonna and it triggered a suppressed memory."

"Deadly nightshade." Thranduil whispered. "Yesss. I know of it and it's many capabilities."

"An old woman claiming to be from our church brought what she said was red clover syrup to the house and said my father asked for some for his tea. Since he always drank it, I thought nothing of it. He slowly became sick over the next few years and doctor's diagnosed him with cancer. How could they not see it was poison???" you cried into his chest.

"The deadly liquid is full of trickery. Especially when black magic is combined with it. My sweet girl, you could not have known. Please do not blame yourself. Does Caroline know that you have remembered?"

"No...he...I decided she shouldn't know because who knows what she will do if I confront her. Look what she has already done. She's a live wire just like Raven. God Thranduil...Raven lied. It was all an act about how sorry she was for what she had done to those children. And she has it bad for Garrett. She brought that painting out on purpose because she's jealous of me. And....she made indirect threats when she left, saying I would suffer a loss like no other. She tried to make Haldir conspire against me to help her get Garrett and.... Thranduil...I'm scared! She's a monster just like our mo...her mother." you said with angst. If she is the reason your father died, you would no longer consider her your mom. You pretty much already didn't because of everything else. "And Lestat...he seems like another loose canon. He looks at me like I'm something to eat....god...bad analogy."

"Yes it would be best to keep this information between us until it can be proven, although it already seems to be. In fact it may be best to not confront her at all while we are here. When the storm settles, we will depart and never look back if that is what you desire."

"It is...I just want to go home...with you. I wish neither of us would have ever came here."

"Are you certain of that? You seem quite content with the company you have been keeping." Normally, you would have thought he was referring to Haldir, but it was Garrett.

"Thranduil...that wasn't planned. Garrett just happened to be there when I was headed to the library."

"But the painting was planned." he confidently stated.

"It was...yes..I...Thranduil, he took me out of the forest when the orcs were coming, and brought me here and he went back to help Haldir and your son so they could get here safely as well. I...I tripped earlier on the stairs and he saved me from severe injury to myself and our daughter. The painting, I was just trying to help him in return. I..."

"Do not sit before me and defend such filth. Do you think those minute things make up for what he has done? Do you think he did any of that for me? It was all for you which you are well aware of so I do not want to hear anymore of this."

"Minute?? That is nice to know you think of me or your child in such a way. And...you told me you should have let me turn. My god...did you mean that??"

"I think you know me well enough by now to know I speak only as I see it." His tone was bitter and spiteful. You were flabbergasted...and hurt.

"I...I suppose I deserved that."

Thranduil hated the fact that he felt bad. A conscience was something he did not possess. Until you. No one could ever have such power over him. No one could ever...has ever... made him feel things the way you have. The Elvenking also hated the fact that he spoke something he didn't mean when he said he did, because he always means what he says. Nothing more, nothing less. You and his child were not in the least minute to him, but indeed the most important and irreplaceable treasures in his life. His very reason to breathe, to even exist at all. Of course he did not wish you had become one of the dead. He would have lost you forever and Leann would not exist. Thranduil concluded he must heal the pain in your eyes that he inflicted. Little did he know that you were thinking the same thing about him in that moment.

"Jospehine I..."

"Thranduil I..."

You both simultaneously spoke the same words, then lightly laughed. He raised his hand to your face and softly wiped your tears from your cheeks with the back of his hand. First one side, then the next in one gentle slow stroke each. Oh this man knew what he was doing. Making you melt into a pile of mush with just one endearing gesture. One that was all his own and spoke of his feelings for you when he had no words or simply just could not speak at all. He slowly moved to sit behind you, then tilted your head back with his hand.

His hot candied breath grazed over your cheekbone. "Do you know the things I desire to do to you right now?" His words and the "fuck me" way he said it drove a shockwave right down your spine and into your walls making them quiver. He began placing intense passionate kisses over your jawline and stopped at your ear. "My entire being aches for you. One being a very prominent entity all of it's own." With that said, he arched his hips against your backside and gently grinded his inflexible arousal up and down your lower back in slow rocking movements. Your head remained back in his grasp as your mouth hung open exerting shallow pants to his very welcomed advances.

"Thranduil!" your mouth softly spoke in a deviously craving manner. The hand he held under your chin smoothly slid around your throat and his other slithered it's way under your dress and up your thigh, coming to a stop at your inflamed clit. "Ahhhhhhh!" you squealed and stiffened as two of his fingertips teased and tormented your protruding sensitive bud. Instinctively, your hips began slightly rocking against his fondling fingers. Down they slid without warning into your entrance as you both groaned at the ease of entry.

"Show my fingers what you want." he moaned as they were knuckle deep inside you and his thumb remained upon your clit caressing it in fast circles. Your core reacted urgently and you brought 2 of your fingers atop his and pushed them all inside of you at full sheath. Thranduil certainly did not expect that as his heavy gasp tattled on him. You took control and guided his and your fingers in and out of you in a steady invigorating rhythm. Spasms kept waving through you as you forced his fingers to curl on each withdraw. You were doing exactly as he requested and he was intoxicated by it. "Tell me...do you think my cock would feel better?"

Oh god...you almost released. Scratch that. Here it came..."Thran...Thrand..Thranduil!!!" You thrusted yours and his fingers vigorously inside of you, then pushed them all the way in and stopped moving as you screeched and jerked in one intense orgasm. "Ahhhhhhhhhhh ahhh ahhh feel me my King." Feeling yourself pulsate against both of your fingers was mind blowingly kinky and sexy. The last time you ever got yourself off was in Rivendell when your King had his impaired memory and it had felt so fucking good, you had to bite your own hand so no one would hear you.

The sound that crawled out of his throat was a cross between a vulnerable whimper and a lion's growl. He removed his fingers and nibbled your earlobe. "Do not move." He stood up and removed all of his clothing. You knew this as you saw pieces of them flying across the room as you glanced to the side. He then knelt down behind you and clutched the end of your dress. "Lift up." You picked yourself up onto your knees and he whisked the dress right up and over your head, then flung it through the air. "Stay still." He took one step forward on his knees and rested his firm body flat against your backside with his flaming solid heat slipping between your inner thighs. His palms creeped up your stomach to your breasts and encased them with his fingers sprawled out like spider legs, then he made small nibbles from the nape of your neck up to your ear. "Do you feel that?" His whispering words taunted. Heavy twitches rode through your thighs and tickled your clit from his lengthy stout limb that you could see peering far out beneath you as you looked down.

"Y..y..yess. Very much." you stuttered as your hand fit perfectly around his peeking member.

He jerked at your grip and quickly"T slid his staff back to where his head poked at your entrance. "Do you want my cock?"

"Mmmm hmmm. P...Please." You brought your hands behind you and ran them up his muscular thighs causing him to thrust only the tip inside of you. He groaned and laid his face on your shoulders as he now gripped your hips.

"Do you want some, or do you want all? My cock begs for all. Will you deny him of his desires?"

"Never. I want all. Please...Thranduil....I...."

"You what?" One of his hands glided up your side and found your dangling hair. He gave it a sturdy tug which pulled your head back. His lips hovered next to yours. "I can't hear you. You will need to tell me so I can instruct him. Would a fast hard fucking do the trick? Or maybe a slow soft fucking would be more enticing?"

"God Thranduil just fuck me. Please...." You could feel him grin from ear to ear at your dirty command.

"Yes my Queen. As you wish." The palm of his hand rode up your back and halted between your shoulder blades, then he swiftly pushed you forward onto your hands and spread your legs with his knees. You were panting with anticipation of his penetration. He placed the head of his throbbing cock inside you, then brought his hands to your hips and squeezed. With a firm yank, he thrusted inside of you. Your drenched walls took him in fully as you yelped in delectation. Uncontrollably, he dropped onto your back unleashing an aching long grunt. He teased a few pumps and then pulled his saturated cock free which is what he intended. "Now watch." You maneuvered your body enough to see him but stayed in position. His fingers wrapped around his massive girth and he began stroking his slippery rod. Slow and steady he paced with his eyes on you and mouth slightly open. Faster and faster he pummeled and you could hear the slickness of the beating he was administering upon himself. The head of his cock was becoming an angry red as he panted heavily and then he thrusted his hand down to his base and intensely released. Moan after moan went in sync with the multiple shots of his warm cream up your back.

He took your dress from the floor and wiped your back off. You found this comical as maybe it was a shun at the sex sniffing Lestat since the clothing all belonged to him. "Come to me...Lay down." He sweetly ordered. You laid upon your back on the furry rug and Thranduil mounted you. The way the fire's light shone upon his face and his long strands flowed over his sculpted body was an image you would never forget. Placing his hands beside your shoulders, he leaned down and kissed you deeply then traced the tip of his tongue over the entirety of your lips. "Do you want more or do you wish me to stop?" Was that a serious question, you thought. You yanked his mouth back to yours and delved your tongue inside, entwining it dangerously with his. His question was answered and he had enough of the foreplay as he rammed into you with one hard push that took your breath away. You were insanely wet and he indulged his cock in every ounce of it, sliding all the way out and rapidly back in over and over. "Jos...Josep...Ahhhhhhhhrrrggg!" Thranduil collapsed onto you in hard release. Your legs wrapped tightly around him as you unraveled with him. His movements slowed and then he began careening deep grinding thrusts which instantly snagged your sweet spot again. Your hips bucked like a horse as your eyes rolled back. No sound came out of your wide open mouth as your nails scratched down his sweat laced back. Thranduil's mouth hung open over yours as he expelled his essence and hot moaning breaths into you. As he rolled to your side, he pulled you snug against him. "I...I love you my sweet girl. Was...this too much for you? Did I come on too strong. I...I..know I am not usually like this....I did not mean..."

"Hush my King...This...was all so perfect. I understand what happened here and I...Thranduil...you have nothing to prove to me. No one is going to take me away from you. Im am yours a cin are sab-. Forever an all -o anand. Im mel cin yandere Thranduil more than nin own cuil. So ha was written. So shall ha always n-." (I am yours and you are mine. Forever for all of time. I love you yandere Thranduil more than my own life. So it was written. So shall it always be.)

He kissed your forehead and off to dreamland you both went in front of the crackling fire.

A dream you had almost forgotten about came flooding back in the early morning hours, the witching hours to be exact. After 3am. Except this time, Thranduil wasn't encased in enormous tree roots. He laid motionless upon a bed of leaves with his eyes wide open.

You knelt beside him and took his ice cold hand into yours. "Thranduil!!" your scream echoed. He didn't move nor blink. His eyes were fixated and glazed. You couldn't speak, only cry.

The King was dead.....

Six loud chimes tolled from the annoying clock in the hall sending you shooting straight up in a gasping panic.

"Thranduil!! Noooo!" Your eyes darted all around the empty room as your heart began racing, until your eyes caught sight of a note laying on his pillow.

"I did not wish to wake my sleeping beauty with my kisses. I will return shortly my love."

You closed your eyes letting out a sigh of relief as you held the note to your lips, breathing in his scent that was imbedded in the paper. 'Tap tap tap....tap tap tap...' sounded on the frosted over window that allowed only the daylight to be seen. You jumped with a small peep escaping your lips. All you could think of was Raven and all her Poe quotes and how you had seen her before outside, just floating there peering in at you. Quickly you threw on your robe and creeped towards the continuing sound. You turned the lock on the window and hesitantly pushed it open. "Caw caw caw! Caw caw caw!" There sat your faithful feathered friend, the crow. He come trotting right up to you on the balcony ledge as if he were struttin his stuff on the catwalk.

"It is you! Hello there. Why have you come? To warn me?" you asked because of his 3 consecutive taps and caws which symbolized death. He cawed once for yes. "I..I heard you once before. In the forest before the orcs came. But...you cawed 7 times. I did not understand that. What have you come to warn of?" The crow then cawed 3 times. Your heart dropped as you gulped. The bird had always been right with his warnings. "D...death? Is...someone going to...die?" He cawed once again for yes. Then he cocked his head and belted out 3 caws, paused and shouted 3 more....then a single one.... 7. "Seven again. What does that mean??" A balcony door opened just down the way and startled your friend off into flight. "No wait!" You then heard Legolas' distant laughter, then Haldir's as they appeared on the terrace from their chambers. Their laughter ceased as they saw you.

"Jo? What are you doing outside so early and in this weather?" Haldir called from the stone snow filled patio.

You were too cold to chit chat in your slinky about what you just encountered. "I...I couldn't sleep. What are you both doing out here as well and so chipper at that?"

Up came Legolas looking all around for his guardian, and so were you as he had not surfaced yet.

They both chuckled. "We are elves my Lady in case you missed that. And we love snow." The prince merrily stated with a devilish grin.

"Yeah Santa's elves in the North Pole. Where's your pointy hats and shoes with bells?"

"Ha ha Jo. We pretty much got the North Pole part though." Haldir joked.

With that said, one by one they leaped over the balcony's edge with cheerful shouts into a snow drift that must have been 3 men deep. You shrieked in disbelief as you threw your hands onto the railing, leaning desperately over it searching for them as they disappeared into the powder.

"Haldir!! My god are you both crazy?? Where is he???" you reeled in panic as your heart skipped about 10 beats.

"Over here Jo!" Haldir snickered and whipped a snowball straight at you, nailing your hand. You jumped and squealed in utter shock. He and Legolas howled in laughter and began belting snowballs at each other.

"Ha....fucking ha! Glad that amuses you." you snarked with a playful grin. It was like a breath of fresh air to see grown ass elves playing like children without a care in the world. Speaking of breath and air, yours was quite apparent. It must have been way below zero. "Have fun kids. I need clothes."

"No you do not." Haldir roared in laughter. You shot him an eye roll and Legolas blasted him in the face with a snowball.

"I find no humor in that statement. Apologize to the Queen!" Legolas dictated.

Haldir shook his head vigorously to clear the splattered snowball and glared at the Prince. "I will not! Jo knows of my humor and that I meant no disrespect. In fact, I respect no one more than her. Not even you oh pristine Prince." SPLAT! The Marchwarden retaliated by nailing Legolas with a fastball before he could duck and then Haldir disappeared beneath the drift with a hearty laugh.

"Where for art thou oh heavenly Haldir??" Legolas sneered as he packed a snowball so firm that you would hate to be on the receiving end. Thank god the two competitive infants didn't have their weapons.

Haldir popped up in the distance behind Legolas. He placed his thumb and forefinger in a circle between his lips and sounded an ear piercing whistle. Legolas flipped around and fired the rock like snowball at him. Haldir dove sideways as the ice ball missed him by just millimeters. "You got to be quicker than that whippersnapper!" Haldir proudly bragged.

"Oh you two, I'm going in." Not a one of them paid you an ounce of attention as Legolas continued going after his guardian. You threw your hands up in the air. "Ok then...nevermind." Back inside you went wondering where Thranduil could possibly be. You suspected he went after some food for you both. To pass the time, you slipped into the warm bath and relaxed. So much so, you dozed back off to sleep and the bad dreams found you again.

You were walking through Lesta's dark hallways and heard loud heavy moaning. The closer you got, the voices became familiar. You ended up at Garrett's room and knocked. The door opened and there stood a bare naked Raven with a grin on her face. Garrett called out. "What's going on?" His voice...it didn't sound right. Confused maybe.

You peeked around her and there he was in all his glory sprawled out on his bed at full attention.

"I...I'm sorry. I didn't realize..." You were stunned and more so appalled. "Garrett! Don't so this..."

"I win. You lose sister." she wickedly laughed. You ran off and found your mother's room.

"Mama?" you whispered through the door that was slightly ajar. Pushing it open, you saw Thranduil in evening attire reclining on her bed in a seductive manner just staring like he did in the other dream.

You turned to see your mother with her blood red robe hanging open just enough to tauntingly reveal her breasts.

She then walked to the table and poured a drop of the red clover syrup into a glass of wine from the same bottle the old woman had given you. She carried it to Thranduil. He took it and began to drink. "Noooooooooooooo!! Thranduil don't!!!!" you screamed but your cries went unheard. His glass then slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor. Caroline gave a menacing laugh and the door slammed shut in front of you, echoing all the way down the halls. You began banging on it while screaming his name.

You heard chains and spun around releasing a fearful squeak. There stood your father bound so tight he could not stand in what appeared to be a dungeon.

"D...Daddy?"

He slowly raised his head and looked you directly in the eyes. "Help me."

Then someone called your name from behind you.

"Josie...." The deep voice was unable to be seen as your head jerked to the sound. You took a few steps towards the blackness. Emerging from it were glowing eyes.

They belonged to a shirtless Lestat. You tried to run away but he was upon you before you could even take a step. Pinning you against the wall, he spoke against your mouth. "Looks like they have all forsaken you. I would not. Take one taste and you will see." His licorice rooted breath delved inside your parted lips. Whatever he was doing to you, you were helpless against.

"Lestat....p..please..."

"Please what? Do you want to taste me?"

Your tongue began to slowly poke out of your mouth as your body trembled. His tongue slithered out like a snake and touched the tip of yours. They locked. Frozen from the hot and cold connection. You began to panic. A growl rose from his core and he then pressed his lips passionately over yours. It was like ice water swam down your throat but it felt soothing, like menthol. As his tongue romanced yours, you felt yourself sliding up the wall. You opened your eyes and you were both floating. Giddiness consumed you as the deep kiss intensified. Lestat's voice formed in your mind. "Imagine what else my tongue can do to you." He began gently kissing your neck and chest leaving you intoxicated by his touch. No fear of him biting you existed in the erotic moment.

A feeling of falling tickled your stomach. You found yourself standing on the ground again staring at his pale ice sculptured body as he stroked your arm and looked you over in a caring manner. Placing your hand on on the back of his head, you pulled him against you and he took your breast into his mouth as his arms cradled you. His cool saliva and twirling tongue on your mamilla sent pulses into your walls.

Your body became weak and limp from his energy but you were very aware of what was occurring. The dominate vampire slowly laid you upon the ground and canoodled you.

"Do you want me Josie?" All you could do was mumble in which Lestat perceived it as a yes. Bringing one hand behind him, he glided his fingers up your dress and began massaging your clit with his thumb.

You woke up splashing about the bath water in the middle of one acute orgasm. Coughing and gasping, you frantically climbed over the bath's edge and fell onto the floor. "Thranduil!!!!" you managed to shout.

The chamber door hammered shut. "Josephine!" Thranduil came running in to find you huddled on the bathroom floor shivering and crying. He immediately dropped to his knees and pulled you into his arms. "My love, what has happened?"

"Thranduil...I want to leave here!! Please! Something bad is going to happen! I'm so scared. I don't want to be alone again." you gasped and sobbed into his chest.

"My sweet girl. You are not going to be alone? I am right here. I will not leave you." The King lovingly said as he kissed your forehead.

"Thranduil..you don't understand. Raven...she said..."

"Enough about that succubus. I will not let her or anyone harm you. I will die first."

"Stop it, don't say that! My dreams...they...something is going to happen! You of all people know they come true!"

"Shhhhh. Hush. I do not discredit your dreams. I promise you, we will leave the moment the storm subsides. You will never make it down the mountain in these conditions. The snow is already slowing. We can make an attempt after the masquerade ball that's in a few days."

"Wait, what? What ball?"

"Raven informed myself and Legolas when she came to our room. Lestat is hosting it and is requiring our attendance. I am sorry. It had slipped my mind with all that has happened."

The mention of Lestat and his demand of it turned your stomach into knots. "Oh god...Thranduil...I..I don't want to...."

"My girl...I have brought us food. Please go eat and relax while I indulge myself with a bath. Just remember I love you and it will be alright." He helped you to your feet and handed you a robe. You did as he asked and went to eat.

You had no appetite after that fucked up dream. A few bites of crackers and some fruit is all you could manage. You got dressed and briskly towel dried your hair, then went onto the balcony to see if Haldir and Legolas had killed each other in their showdown. They were gone and all was silent and still. Thranduil was right, the snow was subsiding. You sat down in the snow and decided to make snow castles like you did as a child to try and distract your thoughts. You felt a presence behind you and then smelled him.

"Garrett?" you gasped and quickly stood up. He was not there but he was letting you know he had been. He obviously didn't want Thranduil to see him. You anxiously skimmed your eyes over the forest borders and then you saw him gaping at you.

You spun around and headed for the front doors. Out you went trekking through the knee deep snow to the forest's edge where you saw him. "Garrett! I know you know I saw you. Please come out. You're obviously ready to talk to me or you wouldn't have came. Please Garrett. I'm sorry."

His treacle smell swam up your nose, You turned and there he stood peering at you with his red defensive eyes. "Thank god." you said as you threw your arms around him.

"It's too cold for you out here." was all he said and whisked you into the air, carrying you back to the front doors. "After you." Garrett moved aside and opened the door like a gentlemen.

"I...I was worried you wouldn't come back....after..." You placed your hand on his.

"Oh...that. You're speaking about after you forced me to see myself when you knew I did not want to?" He yanked his hand from yours.

Garrett was clearly still angry and very hurt. "Garrett. God I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted to show you the beauty I see that you're afraid to look at...." He didn't know what to say to you calling him beautiful again and stared at you for a moment.

"If you are still angry with me, which...you have every right to be...then why did you back come to see me?" you asked with a worrisome smile.

"Beats the shit outta me...For the un-life of me, I just cannot stay mad at you. I had time to think about it and calm down some. I know you never meant for me to see it without warning."

"No, I most certainly didn't. Raven's jealous ass has become a serious problem. After you left, she tried..."

"I know. I spoke with Marius this morning. Josephine, I...I never would have left you there alone with her if I had known what was going to happen... but...Thranduil showed up and...well...you had him, Legolas and Haldir...even Marius...you didn't need me."

"Hey...you do not have to explain. You were extremely upset and needed to be alone. I'm ok...obviously."

"Yeah well...I didn't know he was going to just leave you alone like that. How could he do that?" Garrett reeled in disbelief. He was truly pissed off at Thranduil.

"Why does Thranduil do anything he does? He knew Haldir and Marius were there. I'm sure he figured they would keep me safe."

Garrett began to laugh and shook his head in astonishment. "So you're telling me your husband who loathes vampires trusted his pregnant wife to be left alone with one... one that is a stranger and also with a weaponless Haldir....oh yeah and with a psychopathic arsonist that you had just met only hours before and has proven to be bat shit crazy. It doesn't matter what he does, you'll always defend him."

"I'm not going to stand here and discuss my husband with you or listen to you trash talk him."

"Right...like he does me but we both know you don't defend me when he does." You looked down at the ground feeling guilty because he was right.

"Garrett...you know I couldn't if I wanted to. Thranduil has every right to feel the way he does...and he's already bent out of shape over the painting...or that I healed you and set you free...or that I even associate with you at all. What am I supposed to do?"

"I know....you're right. I'm sorry. If any one's bent out of shape right now, it's me. That painting has me all fucked up in the head right now. I wanted to go back and burn it but Selene stopped me."

"Selene? She's still hanging around? and....she stopped you?" What a shocker it was to hear that considering they despise each other.

"I know right??" he chuckled. "She told me I would later regret it because.... you had it made for me. I don't know. I guess she realizes I'm not the one who tried to knock off her strayed wolfman. Think she kinda likes me a little. And I think she kinda likes you and wants to make sure you're safe after what you did for her. Is...Is it true? That you almost turned her human again?"

"I...I don't even know honestly. I was only trying to heal her from the dead man's blood, but something happened and then my power forced us apart. God, I have no idea what I am doing Garrett. All this power and it seems so useless because I don't know how to utilize it. All I can ever manage to do is manipulate the weather, use my light and shield, or muster up a fireball here and there. I need that book Garrett. Ugh!"

"Oh yes, I recall the fireball very well. Put me straight on my ass.....but Nahhh. You're a natural, little one. A full blooded witch. You'll figure it out. You don't need some book to show you who you truly are. I have great faith in you because you're one determined little hot redhead. I...I meant...hothead." Garrett corrected with a light playful grin.

You giggled. "Well....thank you Garrett. That means a lot that you believe in me so much. So....what was it like for you when you first turned? Were your powers simple to use like riding a bike or did you also have to learn them??

"It was the worst day of my existence. I had no idea what was happening. Definitely not easy peasy lemon squeezy. The flying part was the hardest. Cannot tell you how many trees and buildings I crashed into. My equilibrium was all fucked up. Same with the speed factor. Made me dizzy as hell. And then there was mind control and the telekinesis thing. I practiced on Craven. Needless to say, he had no patience for being thrown through windows. I just couldn't focus...so I tried something that kept me calm in my other life....music. I was able to obtain my 78's record collection. Craven had one of those gramophone players so it was like the syrup to my flapjacks, my favorite food ever. Swear I could have lived off if it." Now you knew why Garrett smelled of molasses.

"Anyways...Once I started playing all the songs I loved, it became easier to concentrate because I finally had some inspiration. The more I practiced, the better I became. It was quite comical hearing Craven yell 'SHUT THE HELL UP' from clear in another room. Vampire hearing, ya know. Sensitive like a dog's. I used to rock out and sing so loud...but it did the trick. You should try it. I got it, how bout this? 'Earth, air, wind and fire, give me that power I desire!!'."

"Did you really just bust out 'Fuel' by Metallica as a witch chant?"

"Sad but true." he smirked. He answered your question with another Metallica song. You smacked your hands over your face. "Oh dear god....I am so fucked."

"No you're not. You are building a fire and everyday that you train, you add more fuel. And at just the right moment, you light the match..... Wish I had my stuff here. I'd let you borrow it but it's all back on Devil's Island. I could maybe help you practice. Or ask Lestat. He's into music too. Sings with some band."

You couldn't believe how much he had revealed to you just now on his human years. Usually the reserved King Garret would change the subject or completely clam up.

"Yeah...I'll pass on that thanks......Soooo...What if I could...heal a vampire? Would you do it? Become human again? I recall our conversation over the campfire in Mirkwood as you said you'd give anything to feel your heartbeat again."

His eyes lowered. "That was before all this. Besides...there's nothing there for me anymore in that life...and I wouldn't even know what to do with myself after being accustomed to this lifestyle for so long. I kinda dig being your own personal superman and scaring the shit outta the evil people that I feast on. Speaking of...Josephine...you're not safe here. I could fly you out of hear so fast. Just say the word."

"You know I cannot leave without the others. Believe me, I want out of here. I don't think you're safe here either after the dream I had."

"What...that Thranduil chopped off my head and displayed it on his trophy exhibit...or better yet, used it as a bullseye in his archery range?"

"Worse..."

"Uhhh what could be worse than being sliced and diced by an elf besides just being plain sliced and diced?"

"Sleeping with the enemy. I saw you in Raven's bed while she stood naked at the door flaunting herself."

"Ahhh hell no....not happening. Nope. No way. I'd have to be drunk as skunk or high as a kite and even then, I feel I would need much much more persuasion like threatening to incinerate me.....to put it simply.....fuck no."

"That's just it though Garrett...in the dream, I think she drugged you...and...my entire dream was so fucked up, but then again, they always are. My mom was doing shit to Thranduil, I saw my father again. He was in chains asking me to help him...and Lestat...well never mind on that. I just want to forget it but something tells me I won't be able to. Anyways...I should be going before Thranduil ends his bath and finds me gone...so...the painting. I take it you do not want to keep it? It's so beautiful. The way Marius' work always tells a story makes it that more captivating. I love picture stories. His use of the mirror with you was brilliant. I can just ask him to keep it..."

"No...I....I want it. I mean...after all...you just called me beautiful for the 3rd time now." he slyly grinned from ear to ear.

"I called the painting beautiful."

"And I am in the painting. In fact, I AM the painting."

"Fine, you win. Does this mean you forgive me then?"

"On one condition."

"Ok?"

Garrett turned his face and tapped his cheek with his index finger wanting a kiss.

You laughed. "Really Garrett?"

"What? You gave me one in the library." he confidently reminded you.

"Alright ya big baby." You stood on your tippy toes and went to kiss his cheek. Right at the last minute, the trickster turned his face and you planted a kiss right on his lips. "Garrett Lee!" you reeled and smacked his arm.

He triumphed in his victory with a crafty smile. "That's my name, don't wear it out. Talk soon." Then, the waggish vamp vanished with great alacrity.

You couldn't help but smile and then trotted off back to your room in hopes the King was still in the bath. As you whisked around the corner, the last thing you expected to see stood right in front of you like in your dream.

Lestat....

@redeemer46 @mirkwoodwarrior

Masterlist

[snow-in-the-desert]

Dramione Recommendations

Ok so, 2020 has been A LOT but on a personal note one of the most surprising things to happen was me discovering Dramione fanfiction and becoming unashamedly obsessed with it. I really didn’t see that coming but I’m here now and I’m here to stay. 

I think I started reading in the Dramione fandom around mid July last year?? (In all honesty I’ve lost any true sense of time’s progression at this point so I could be well off the mark with that) And I’ve decided to compile a list of all my favourite fics I’ve read so far. Why? I really just want to gush over all the amazing writers I have found through this fandom because y’all deserve it. 

Side note: If any of the authors actually sees this post just dm so I can buy you coffee or post you writing supplies or something idk I feel like that’s the least I can do for all your amazing work x

Remain Nameless by @heyjude19-writing

Ok I have to start with RN because this fic is pretty much the sole reason I decided to create an account with A03 or a tumblr or just decided to get involved with this fandom at all. 

I headcannon this story hard. But I think even if you aren’t a fan of Dramione you should just read this because it is so unbelievably good and well written and poignant and Draco’s sarcastic personality in this is truly a thing of beauty in this - I relate to his inner monologue’s on a deep personal level. 

I could rave about this story any time, any day of the week, just ask me. In fact, maybe I’ll just start a HeyJude19 fan club to fulfill that urge.

There are so many elements that I love but for the sake of brevity, RN is a beautifully told story of Draco and Hermione finding love and healing in a post-war HP setting. Heyjude19 had the very special ability of making me want to simulatenously laugh, cry and swoon with the power of her words. Just stop what you are doing and go read it now if you havent already, ok?  

I also really enjoyed reading Bells on a Hill, Beers, Potions and Unwise Notions and A Shift in Focus, if you are looking for smaller fics, definitely give these a go. They are all funny and heartfelt stoires that will make your tippy toes wriggle with glee. 

The Rights and Wrongs Series by @lovesbitca8

The Right Thing To Do, All The Wrong Things and The Auction are the holy trinity of Dramione writing. I have christened it thus, so mote it be. And frankly I’m not interested in any other opinion than that one, thank you very much!

After reading this series I don’t think I’ll be able to look back on the orginal HP books without thinking of Hermione’s and Draco’s memories of their time at Hogwarts in these fics as anything other than strictly cannon. 

So many things to love about this series but I think one of the major highlights was Hermione and Draco’s use of occlumency. LoveBitca8 created such beautiful visuals with how occlumency works as a magical practice and seeing Draco and Hermione so devoted to eachother to the point of safeguarding their inner most feelings to protect eachother was unbelievably romantic and poetic. 

Also the smut is divine ;)

Manacled by @senlinyu​

My heart will never be the same after reading this story. Like I actually can’t think about this fic without getting a lump at the back of my throat. I have never felt so emotionally ruined after reading anything, compared to the likes of this fic. Just please, please read it. To badly quote HP, reading Manacled will make you suffer but you’re going to be happy about it.

The flashbacks are a rollercoaster in of themselves but the way Hermione inadvertently refers to them when she is still in a state of memory loss was so heartbreaking to read. My heart still aches for them both. Also its a truly satisfying to see Draco and Hermione written in a way were they are both so fiercly protective of one another. They make my insides go soft. 

I also really enjoyed Snow Fall, Now Is A Gift and All You Want by the author but to be honest anything written by Senlinyu is always thoroughly enjoyable and worth a look. 

The Erised Effect by @adaprix​

Ada is QUEEN of dramione smut but ‘The Erised Effect’ is top tier. Its equal parts funny, romantic, sentimental and oh so sexy. Ada really knows how to build and build on sexual tension and doesn’t disappoint on the final delivery. I’m a big admirer of her writing style and just veraciously read whatever she posts but ‘The Erised Effect’ is just golden. A must read. (Also Pansy’s sexual fantasy in this story is a visual I don’t think I’ll ever be able to remove from my brain so thanks for that Ada)

Also quick side note: Adaprix’ stories were the first I read when I was looking into this fandom and it was enough to get me hooked on the pairing from the get go so I have that to thank Ada for too. I remember devouring all the stories she had posted to A03 and when I was done I was like... now what am I supposed to do with my life?? And that’s basically when I began to look deeper into the fandom and thus the course of my life in 2020 changed for the better. 

Some other stories I love by her are Break for Me, All My Sins, The Big 4-0, The Fucklust Series and The Flat in Bath. 

Clean by @olivieblake​

This 6th Year AU where Draco and Hermione work together on a class assignment and end up falling in love had me feeling all kinds of ways when I read it. I almost don’t know where to start but I think one of the stand out things for me was how immersed I felt in reading it. 

Hogwarts is captured really well, you get a good sense of class atmospheres, character nuances and behind the scenes of events that happen in HBP but from a Draco and Hermione’s perspectives. It’s well executed and intricate tapestry of a fic. With an excellent plot twist ending! 

Also Hermione and Draco’s relationship in this is equal parts fluffy and smutty and it just ticks all the right boxes that you want to see for those characters ;)

Breath Mints / Battle Scars by @onyx-and-elm​

The angst in this one is just *chef’s kiss*

God I love this fic. The way Draco is portrayed is very true to his defensive and tetchy character in the original books but he is also given so much more depth. The way his diary entries are written are just so well executed. It’s a true testament to the author’s creative writing skill. And I LOVE how even though Draco is clearly in such a messed up place, he still has a basic level of self respect and dignity that he won’t tolerate being used or undervalued in his relationship with Hermione. 

Yep, I really love Draco’s characterisation in this one if you can’t tell.  But Hermione is also well written too. Her stuggles and trauma of returning to Hogwarts after war is described in a believable and grounded way. And my heart definitely ached for them both. I just wanted to wrap the pair of them in a big fuzzy blanket and tell them that everything will be alright. 

WANDS OUT! by @persephonestone​

This murder mystery / Dramione / Theo x Harry / AU crossover is everything I didn’t know I wanted until I read it. I felt like I was picked up and plonked right into an alternative dimension where all the characters of HP are just living it up in an Agatha Christie novel. 

It’s a funny and clever story that I found refreshing to read amongst all the other fanfics that are usually cemented in the HP timeline or universe. Theodore Nott in this fic is perfection he should be written like this in every fic from now on in my opinion. I couldn’t stop giggling any time he had a scene in the story.

And the ‘only one bed’ trope in this fic is 10/10. I don’t want to give spoilers but ohmygod. It hits all the right notes. 

The One With Technical Difficulties by cassielassie 

Cassielassie has an excellent three part series of Dramone called ‘The One with...” but I have to give special credit to this story in particular for one main reason. ELEVATOR TROPES. I can’t get enough of em. I think I have my early childhood viewings of NCIS to thank for my obsession with elevator tropes they just do something to me that simply cannot be explained with mere words. The palpable sexual tension of being in a broken down elevator with an ‘enemies to lovers’ pairing, a heated arguement breaks out followed by a discovery of mutual feelings and a romantic embrace...

Eugh. It gets me everytime. And this fic is no exception. I loved it for all the reasons I’ve already stated above but also for the attention to detail in Draco and Hermione’s careers makes this one particularly immersive. The dynamics between them established in this one-shot are convincingly portrayed and the chemistry between them is so undeniably hot. 

The Light is No Mystery by @masterofinfinities​

Yooo if you want to read a dramione fic that is a deep dive into Pureblood culture and Post-War recovery but is also a perfect allegory for discrimination and today’s political landscape of moral grandstanding for votes then look no further than this one. 

This story has a bit of everything. Intrigue, mystery, ptsd and recovery, enemies to lovers / secret relationship, government conspiracy and humour, to name a few. I eargerly await every update to this story and am anxious to know how it ends!

The Eagle’s Nest by HeartOfAspen 

Finally! A fic that gives me the Ravenclaw representation I crave. I think I could recommend this fic on the lore depicted of Ravenclaw house alone. ‘The Stacks’ and Rowena Ravenclaw’s own ‘come and go room’ are just such cool details that I could see being real in the HP universe. 

This fic is so cosy and makes me feel like I’m just popping back into Hogwarts for another year. You get to see all the usuals like prof. Mcgongall, Nearly headless Nick, PEEVES, Hagrid, as well as learn more about minor characters from the other school houses. The story follows Hermione going to her day to day classes and there are interesting concepts about magic and alchemy that are explored. 

Draco and Hermione’s relationship in this one is of course very fluffy and heartfelt. But it’s the attention to detail that really makes this fic outstanding and the experience of reading it feels fleshed out and true to HP universe.

A shorter fic by HeartofAspen that I recommend is one called Set in Stone, it has an adventurous, Indianna Jones vibe to it, that I am so down for. 

Teachable Moments by @purplesugarquills

In this fic Hermione is an innocent little virgin determined to learn everything about sex. And Draco Malfoy is her tutor. If that isn’t enough to get you on board then I don’t know what is. Both Heartfelt and Steamy. PurpleSugarQuills writes smut so well but it’s the progression of their growing attachment and the nervous treading of new uncharted waters of romantic relationships for both of them that just adds a whole other level of feels to the story. Also chapter 9 is like reading poetry - its so good. Eugh just give it a read if you haven’t already.

Les Pèlerins by @pacific-rimbaud

This story is high art. It’s transcendent. Reading this story feels like the emotional equivalent of standing around a hundred glowing fairy lights, sipping hot cocoa and being wrapped in the loving embrace of a s/o. I can’t speak my praises highly enough or even become passably coherent in my words when I try to articulate a review. 

From the very first paragraph I felt like I was just whisked away on a Parisian holiday and I’ve never even bloody been to Paris but damn it if this story didn’t make me feel like I was there. The writing style is just so tactile and intense it’s like I could feel the cold winter air brush against me as I read it. Eugh I just completely fell in love with the story and the writer. 

New Year’s resolution. Read everything PacificRimbaud has ever posted online. 

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.19

The True Heir

03/09/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,781

Warnings: angst, depression, pregnancy, marital troubles, pining

A/N: There is very little editing. Forgive me. I’m sleepy. I’ve been up writing all night. I’ve also been hurting, but it’s all good! I’m so happy to get this chapter out. *insert evil laugh* If you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work! it truly means so much, more than you know. xoxo

Sunday

Today you do nothing.

You’d opened up your laptop last night and attempted to scribble a few lines for your next book, but all you could think about was Thor, Jane, the babies to come, and where exactly you fit amongst all of it.

After typing Thor’s name along with a few other random words for the tenth time, you gave up and shut the laptop. You’d crawled into bed, bundled up under your fluffy comforter, and bid goodbye to the world as you caved in to unconsciousness.

The fact that morning is here, you find that your hope for today to be better than  yesterday was silly. How can anything ever be good again?

You place your hands on your lower tummy, caressing what feels like a very slight swell. It’s just barely harder than the rest of your stomach. Firm. Despite the happiness that your baby brings you, you stare across the room at your computer and can’t find it in you to get up and work.

Instead you roll over onto your other side and pull Thor’s--that is to say, the one he’d used while he was here--pillow over to cling to.

Thor’s texts are also still fresh in your mind.

Sleep didn’t dull their effect on you or the confusion they raised.

Did they mean that he wouldn’t get an annulment? That’s sorta what you were getting from them. His declarations that he couldn’t live without you and that he would die for you and that he missed you so much at his side sounded like he was also telling himself how he felt. As if he were, not so much convincing, but reaffirming what he already knew.

You reach over and switch your phone on, clicking through to your messages to find that Thor must have stolen his phone back from Loki at some point.

Thor: Good morning, my cherub. I hope you slept well.

Thor: I could hardly sleep with you absent beside me.

Thor: Our bed is too big without you in it.

Thor: Have you seen the doctor yet? You’ll text me as soon as you get a diagnosis, won’t you? I’ll be waiting.

Thor: Loki insists that I give you some distance to rest but being apart from you is torture.

Thor: Would you be very angry with me if I came to see you?

Thor: I have some things I must deal with here before I can go though. Loki is right. I should allow you rest and fix things here before I come to you.

Thor: Are you still sleeping, cherub? I’m sorry if my messages are disturbing you. I haven’t gone this long without talking to you since...I wish I’d met you years ago. When things weren’t so complicated.

Thor: Would you have let me court you even though I am the God of Thunder? Future King of Asgard? Would you have married me when I came back with my people to live here on Earth?

Thor: I think if I had to choose all over again, you’re still the only woman equal to the task of being my Queen.

Thor: And the love that has grown between us is...I will never take it for granted…

As you read that last message, you assume he wants to say he won’t take it for granted again. He’s already let it slip through his fingers, although he doesn’t know it yet.

Thor: Perhaps this can be that break you were talking of. For our baby? Maybe we do need a little bit of relaxation to let our bodies recover?

Thor: And yet, I can’t wait to start a family with you, cherub.

You’re bawling all over again, your eyes flooding with tears as you bury your face into his pillow and sob loudly.

He’d said that he missed your body next to his. You can relate. You want to feel the heavy fall of his chest, the deep breaths that fill his lungs and escape through his lips in a quiet little snore that always makes you cuddle into his side.

Normally, he’d respond by turning to face you and holding you right up against his chest.

The comfort that simple thing would give you right now when your heart is aching so painfully is what you so desperately need. But...you’re so angry too. You don’t want him near you.

The images that flood your mind are torture. Mixtures of pleasant, happy moments now marred by the betrayal and anger that has taken hold of your heart.

You bury your face into the pillow and scream until your throat really does go hoarse. Frustration at the force of change you’ve had to make in the past twenty-four hours.

You’re startled back to the present when your phone rings. You make a small attempt  to clear your throat then answer and the absolute gravel voice you use settles any wondering as to whether your illness is real.

“Hello?” you whisper, clearing your throat to no avail.

“Oh, cherub, you sound terrible.”

Your heart panics. How are you supposed to talk to him?

You don’t want to talk to him.

“I can’t really talk,” you say weakly hoping he’ll take the hint.

“Did the doctor see you already?” Thor asks, his worry evident in the quiet tone of his voice.

“Yes, he gave me some medicine and told me to try not to talk,” you lie, surprisingly easy right now since you don’t want to talk.

For your emotional sanity, you need to hang up soon.

“I’m so sorry, love. I wish I could take this illness from you. Where’s David? I’d like to talk to him.”

You panic again, floundering as you cough and clear your throat to buy some time.

“He’s not here. He went to the store to get some groceries,” you hope he buys it.

“I’ll call him a little later then. If you need anything, let me know. I’ll get it for you.”

“Thanks, Thor,” you mumble, suddenly not wanting to hang up.

How can one person give you so much ease and worry all at once? How can he be your source of agony and comfort at the same time? It’s not fair.

“I have so much to tell you, but...now is not the right time. You need to get better first.”

Nevermind! Fuck this guy. Your heart sinks.

“I have to go,” you tell him, hoping he’ll just hang up and leave you be now.

“Very well. I love you, cherub.”

How do you answer him without giving anything away just yet?

“Me too,” you choose. And it’s true.

Even if he’s torn your heart into pieces, he’s still the father of your baby and you still love him.

Whatever madness overcame him when he’d suggested to Loki getting an annulment was the best course of action seems to have passed. Loki must be right about him.

“Bye, Thor,” you whimper.

“Bye, Y/N,” he says your name, making your heart quake a bit.

You hang up and quickly dial up David.

He answers after two rings.

“Hello? How is my favorite girl in the whole wide world?”

He sounds amused by something, or just happy. It’s such a difference to how you feel at the moment that it breaks you and you sob again, renewing your tears.

“Y/N? What’s the matter?” David demands, clearly now beginning to fret over the way you sound.

You tell him everything. Somehow you manage to get it all out minus one important detail and when you’re done recounting the most horrible night of your life, David sighs heavily and you can almost picture him settling into a deep armchair with massive worry weighing on his shoulders.

“Well, the good thing is, if he goes through with an annulment, you’re to be given a monthly allowance for the rest of your life. It was a condition in your contract, should Thor change his mind about marrying you. But he didn’t so it was moot, until now. You will be a very rich woman. More so than the small fortune you originally inherited.

“I know that money is hardly a consolation for the man that you love-” David sighs again. “Perhaps he said it in madness? He must have been very upset. Caught by surprise?” David offers.

“Even if he doesn’t mean it or doesn’t go through with it, I know that for you the point is the thought was there.

“However, I do think we must make allowances for Thor. I’m sorry to say. He is a king and he’s responsible for his entire people. A baby would give them security. Stability. A legitimate heir would tie them to Earth forever.

“We musn’t make light of his choices. This isn’t a common situation to find one’s self in. For either of you.”

“David, I’m pregnant.” You finally explain, knowing that it will maybe just show him a little bit more of what you’re facing. “I went to tell Thor and that’s when I overheard them.”

For a moment he’s speechless. When he speaks again, his voice is heightened.

“Congratulations! I-I knew it would happen eventually. The timing is a little-”

“I haven’t told him yet, clearly.”

Silence again. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I was so happy when I went to tell him and then I heard their conversation and I-I just can’t find the strength to do it right now. Not until I know whether he wants the annulment.”

David breathes in deeply and then exhales slowly into the phone. His breath is light and soft.

“You’re afraid that he will only stay with you because of the child,” a statement.

David knows you better than anyone else in your life. It’s not surprising that he’d make the leap so quickly.

“He’s willing to leave me and marry Jane because of her baby. It’s possible that he’ll stay by my side only because of our baby and I’d rather he do what’s best for our people than to stay with me because of a sense of obligation.”

“It could be that Jane will not want him. She might keep her child away from the Asgardian royal court. Didn’t she refuse to marry him because she didn’t want to be Queen?” David’s voice is pensive. “This might all feel much larger than it is. I suggest you take some time to really think through your actions before making any decisions.”

“I’m not going to never tell him, David. He’s the father of my child. He has to know that he has two and not just the one. I don’t think I could do that to him. I could never keep him from his children.

“Either of them.”

“You are magnanimous, Y/N. More than even I thought you were capable of.”

“Bullshit. I ran away and am refusing to see him until I get my week of space,” you nod firmly. “But David-?”

“Tell me,” he urges you, recognizing your tone of anguish.

“I-I know that I accepted this marriage hesitantly. It wasn’t like I asked for it and you know how I felt before Thor asked me to marry him. You know how s-scared I was about marrying someone who was in love with someone else, and now...now he’s-”

“He’s married to you, Y/N. Not Ms. Foster. And from what I have been able to see, he does love you. Not Jane. This is a temporary setback. If you’re angry at him, be angry at him. Don’t pretend you aren’t. If you’re hurt, show it. Wear your heart on your sleeve.

“Loving someone is one of life’s greatest blessings. Sometimes that love doesn’t last, sometimes it takes a beating. But you must choose whether your love is worth fighting for.

“You’ve also got obligations that you cannot escape from. Duties to your people as their Queen.”

“Assuming Thor doesn’t leave me and take my crown,” you scoff.

“I’m with your brother-in-law. I don’t think it will come to that. I think Thor was a little shocked and thrown by Ms. Foster’s news. Now that he has had some time to think, I believe he’ll do right by you and when you tell him, your child.”

“I won’t tell him until he makes up his mind,” you insist.

“That is your prerogative. Do what you need to. What can I do to help? What do you need from me?”

“Just be prepared for any eventuality. I’m not sure what’s going to happen at the end of this week. Oh, and if Thor calls you--just make something up and tell me what you say. He thinks you drove me from the airport and have been staying with me.”

“Using me as your alibi so that your husband won’t come looking for you,” David clicks his tongue. “How much detail shall I give him?”

“You’ve got a job too, just tell him you’re coming and going. Tony had his staff install some security on the house after the honeymoon. I’m safe here. He’ll believe that I’m safe if that’s all you say.

“Anyway, I need to go. I have two more calls to make before I can relax and enjoy my break from the throne.”

“If you need anything, you know how to reach me. Anything, Y/N. I mean it.”

“Thanks, David. I can always count on you,” you smile.

Just a tiny one. A very subtle curve at the corners of your lips.

“Well, you do pay me,” he jokes, which actually pulls a small laugh from you.

“Right. Bye, David.”

“Goodbye, Your Majesty.”

You take only a minute to think about your conversation with David before you make the most important calls of your week in solitude.

The first one is simple. Just a reminder of doctor-patient confidentiality. He understands what you’re saying even if he doesn’t practice by that mentality.

Dr. Wilson’s phone call is more difficult. She wants an explanation. She wants to know why she’s not allowed to tell your husband, the King of New Asgard, that he’s finally got what you and he have been wanting.

An heir!

It’s painful to talk about but you tell her what’s happened. You tell her that Thor doesn’t know that you know about Jane’s baby.

She’s very quiet as you talk. She assumes things and you can hear her anger when she starts to ask for what she can tell Thor.

“He didn’t cheat on me, Dr. Wilson,” you explain, hoping that this will ease her anger.

You’re angry at Thor because of the annulment, not because he and Jane have created a life from their love. You’re hurt because he’s willing or was willing--you’re not sure yet--to leave you to be with Jane, even if not for love but for the baby growing within her.

You’re hurt because the man you love was choosing his duty over his feelings for you.

Even though you know that he’s right to do it. Even though you know that you should understand because he’s King and you also took an oath to put the people of New Asgard first.

It’s your duty to put their well-being before your own. That doesn’t mean you have to like it.

In Thor’s mind, his only duty is to his child. Jane’s child. He doesn’t know you’re carrying one of your own yet. Even though that would probably make sure that he stays with you because of the baby, you don’t want that to be the reason he stays.

Proud fool.

“Thor slept with Jane the same night he proposed to me. This was before we loved each other, when leaving Jane was the hardest thing he’d had to do. I don’t hold that against him.”

You don’t tell her about the annulment. She doesn’t need to know how messy this all is.

“He’ll probably call for you and Dr. Alric soon. Loki suggested they get Jane checked so act surprised? But please don’t tell him I’m pregnant. Not yet. He’s coming to see me at the end of the week and I’ll tell him myself then. Please?” And it really is a genuine plea.

“I’ll do whatever you need, Your Majesty. I would like to come and check on you. You don’t sound well.”

She’s very sweet and her concern is touching.

“Thor will probably send you to me eventually. He’s worried but he’s clearly got other things on his mind.”

“I’ll make arrangements to head over there tomorrow. Oh, can you hold for one minute Your Majesty? I’m so sorry.”

“Of course.”

There’s silence on the phone for a few minutes before she comes back.

“It was His Majesty. He’s told me about Jane but she’s not available for an examination until later in the week. So, he’s asked me to come to you first. I’ll be there tonight.”

For some reason, the idea of having her with you eases some of the stress you’ve been carrying with you since yesterday.

“I’ll call and have a car sent for you.”

“Actually, His Majesty has promised to bring me straight to you via bifrost.”

“Wait, what?” You sit up in bed, clutching your blanket to your chest as your nerves suddenly fray and panic begins to build up within you.

“Should I come by plane?” She asks, worried by the sound of your voice.

You can’t see Thor. No. You can’t.

“No. I’ll just be going out later tonight to pick up a few things that I need here at the house. Toilet paper, napkins, laundry soap. I just didn’t want you to get here when I was out, but I’ll text you the passcode to get in.”

You’ll just have to make sure that you’re not at home when they come. That’s what you’ll do. This is a perfect excuse to be out since you need to get the stuff you listed anyway.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t just like me to come by plane?”

“No, really. The sooner you get here, the better. The car ride is so long from the airport. I’ll see you tonight, Dr. Wilson.”

“Bye, Your Majesty.”

Even though you know that you have hours upon hours until Thor brings Dr. Wilson here, you force yourself out of bed and abandon your plans to wallow in your feelings so that you can shower, get dressed, and leave the house.

If Thor’s coming, you’re going to be as far away from your house as you can be. You’re not ready to see him again just yet. You only have small errands to run but you’re gonna stay out all damn day if it’s the last thing you do.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tuesday

Thor is at a loss. Completely and utterly lost without you.

If he was ever in doubt as to how he really felt about you--which he never has been because he knows himself well enough to know better--he knows now that you are the light of his new life here on Earth.

His reign would mean significantly less without you at his side.

Even though the time you’ve spent together has been a short few months, they have been the best months of his life.

If he’d had one of those other women he’d interviewed become his Queen, this life he’s chosen to lead would have felt empty and tedious. Instead of watching his Queen spend her time with his people leading the way in progress.

You’re so eager to be part of the Asgardian populace. They’ve embraced you so fully.

With a sigh, Thor leans forward and buries his face into his hands as he mentally trashes himself for the absolute fool that he’s been about this entire situation.

The fact that he’d even entertained the thought of leaving you.

He wants to cry and tear his hair out in frustration.

Should he tell you that the thought was weighed along with many others at Jane’s news?

And Jane.

Thor groans.

She’s been avoiding him since she told him. He can’t exactly blame her for it. He hadn’t exactly taken the news well.

He had no reason to expect her to be receptive to him after he’d basically accused her of being confused about it. She knew her own body. If she said she was pregnant, what reason would he have to doubt her?

He’s messed everything up so much and he’s terrified to tell you about Jane.

What if you have the same idea he did? What if you decide to leave him in some foolish attempt to have him marry her and legitimize his future child?

It’s something you would do. Sacrifice yourself so that he could do the right thing.

The thought of living this life of rule without you at his side is unbearable.

With another frustrated groan, he gets up and moves to pace the length of the room, ignoring the large pile of paperwork on his desk as his mind moves in circles.

It always comes back to you.

And then you’d been out when he’d gone to drop off Dr. Wilson. He hadn’t expected you to be gone. He’d wanted to see you. To hold you. Touch you. Hear your voice after so much turmoil.

You are his only solace.

Going so close to you and not seeing you has left him with a terrible pain in his chest.

His phone rings.

Thor dives for his phone and fumbles with it as he grabs it off the bed. He almost loses it over the opposite edge.

He literally throws himself towards it and lands with a grunt onto the bed as he catches it.

He presses the button on the screen without looking to see who it is because he only wants it to be you.

“Cherub?” he gasps, his voice an octave higher than normal with the little bit of exertion he just underwent.

“Oh, no. Sorry, Your Majesty, it’s Dr. Wilson. I was just calling to give you your daily report on Her Majesty’s health.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry. I just haven’t heard from-” He clears his throat, sits up, and slides to the edge of the bed. “No matter. How is my Queen, doctor?”

“She was asleep. But just woke up. She’s very tired. Her throat is better, but she’s had a fever every morning since Sunday.”

Thor sits up straighter, hand clenched into a fist around the edge of the bed as his heart starts to thrum loudly.

“Is she seriously ill?”

“No, of course not, Your Majesty. But she really does need rest. She has been under severe stress and I’m sorry to say that your constant messages are not letting her rest.”

Thor’s heart drops and buries itself into a hole at the bottom of his stomach. He feels numb suddenly, fearful of what he might be doing to you. The guilt of what he knows he must tell you soon also weighs down on him.

“Are you saying that I should leave her be until she is recovered?” Thor checks, just in case he’s not understanding correctly.

“I’m saying that if you want her to get well quickly, you must give her what she asked you for. She needs rest.”

Thor hates that he can’t be there to check on you. He wants to feel you close. He wants to see you. What if you’re deathly ill and you’re telling Dr. Wilson to lie for you?

You abhor lies and cherish honesty , but he can see you lying in order to spare him pain. Just as he is lying to spare you the worry of all this uncertainty with Jane.

Although he knows that he can never lose you now and even with a child coming with Jane, you are his wife and he can’t leave you. He was stupid to think he could even try. The thought was a sin and he’ll never forgive himself for thinking it.

Loki was so angry with him.

Rightfully so.

The good thing is that you’ll never know how bleak things looked. At least he has found his sanity again.

“Will you keep me informed? I’ll stop contacting her if you will promise to tell me how she fares. If she gets worse, I want to know.” Thor insists, his voice passionate and begging.

“You have my word, Your Majesty. Have you heard anything from Ms. Foster? Do we know exactly when we’ll be running her tests?”

“She’s very busy. As of now, it’s looking more and more likely that we won’t be able to find the time until the week’s end. After we confirm her pregnancy, I’ll tell Y/N. I’m sorry that I’ve asked you to collude in this business.”

There’s a long pause and for a moment Thor thinks that maybe the phone has disconnected but then Dr. Wilson sighs, “I cannot wait for this week to be over. Will you come back for me then? When she’s ready?”

“Yes. I’ll pick you up in the same spot that I left you. My wife wasn’t too upset about her lawn, was she? Only, Stark seems to get irritated with me every time I land on his.”

“No,” Dr. Wilson chuckles once. “She was not upset. Again, there’s little more than her throat, head, and fever on her mind. I’ve gotta go. She’s gone out into the garden for some fresh air but I need to get her back into bed.”

“Please take good care of her, doctor. She’s...well, she’s my wife,” Thor finishes heavily.

The phone goes dead and Thor sits there staring at his phone until he can find the strength to get to his feet and go off in search of Jane. They really need to talk.

~~~~~~~~~~

Friday

Thor is upset.

He’s beyond frustrated by now.

He’s irritated.

It’s a week tomorrow since he’s seen you and he can’t stand the distance anymore.

Dr. Wilson snuck him a photo but you’d been sitting on your sofa, looking weak and withdrawn.

He’s not sure what exactly is making you sick, but he knows that he can’t go another day without seeing you.

He needs to get Dr. Wilson back here and he needs to get confirmation so that he can have something to tell you once he sees you.

He won’t lose you over this.

It was one last time. One final goodbye with Jane and he’d thought she was on her birth control but apparently she hadn’t been so he hadn’t bothered to protect himself from the possibility of getting her pregnant.

Why hadn’t she said anything?! Why hadn’t she told him that she wasn’t on her pill?

He knows it’s wrong to blame her. It took both of them to make this baby, but being away from you for so long is wearing thin and he’s losing all semblance of patience.

It takes some very careful maneuvering. Heimdall is sent first, then Hilde, then Loki.

None of them know why they’re going in to corner Jane in the tower except for Loki. Well, Heimdall knows, but there’s no hiding much from Heimdall. He pretends not to know and that’s good enough for Thor.

Loki is just stepping out of the tower when he turns to look at Thor with a grave almost exhausted expression.

“She’s up there,” he assures Thor, frowning as he shuts the heavy door. “When will this end, Thor? Are you going to keep the Queen away forever?”

Thor says nothing, he’s too upset to speak. He pulls the door open roughly and stomps his way up the steps taking them two at a time until he’s standing on the top floor landing.

He can see Jane biting her lip, pacing the length of the room until she turns and finally sees him.

“Thor…” she gasps, not expecting to see him.

“We have to talk, Jane.”

She looks away, turning her back on him then moves towards her laptop which she carefully closes. She puts her hand up to her throat and turns to face him.

“I will have Dr. Wilson brought in and Dr. Alric to give you the same tests they have been giving Y/N. They will be confirming your pregnancy and once we have that, then we can all sit down and figure out-”

“I’m not pregnant,” Jane gasps, her voice filling the room despite the quiet breath that escapes her pink lips.

Thor’s stomach twists. It’s agony.

On the one hand, the words she’s just spoken are...they’re a celebration. They’re simplicity. They’re peace and a return back to normal where in his life there is only you.

On the other hand, he’s just lost a baby he never had. An heir that he’d been expecting and now can never get back.

He’d made plans for this child. He’s pictured his life with them, the happiness and joy that their birth would bring to the people of New Asgard. The assurance that they would always belong to Earth.

He’d picked names for boys and girls. He’d begun to make a list of nursery items they would need even as he lamented that the baby was not yours but Jane’s.

This baby would have, and had already begun to change his life.

And now this?!

“What?” he very nearly spits.

Jane is so flustered she’s wringing her hands hard, welting them red.

“I’m...I didn’t expect to come here and see you with her and see how fast you just-” she waves her hand as if shooing away some animal. “-moved on. It’s like you were never with me.

“You were both so happy and talking about the future and I just lost it for a little bit,” she shrugs. “I have no excuses, Thor. I’m sorry if what I said hurt you. It was selfish of me and I just loved you for so long. You were mine, you know? And now you’re married, planning to have kids, and your wife is so nice and considerate and even though she has every reason to hate me, she was polite and so damn perfect…

“I’m not afraid to say that it made me hate her. I’m ashamed of it, but not enough to take it back.”

The silence is thick. The air suddenly grows charged and Thor’s eyes shine a bright sparkling blue.

His hands crackle and his eye spits as if full of blue fire.

The sky overhead thunders and the world shakes with the boom. The lightning strikes sharp and fast, shaking the tower so that for a moment, Thor can see how Jane thinks it might topple.

His anger gives way to betrayal and his lightning fizzles out as he takes a step towards her, his brow furrowed, eye full of pain as he stares at her, searching for the joke that this must be.

There is no way that this is really happening.

“You lied to me?” Thor accuses.

Jane blanches, her lips going pale as she takes a step towards him.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lie, I just-I didn’t want to see you with her anymore and I wasn’t thinking straight so I just said it before I could stop myself. I know that it was wrong and I didn’t think it would go on for so long. I wanted to tell you almost as soon as I said it that it wasn’t true, but then you just took off and then the Queen left and I wasn’t sure if you told her and maybe that’s why she wasn’t here.”

Thor shakes his head, turning away from her as he paces towards the stairs but then turns back, his anger returning but full of pain now.

“I defended you. When Loki insisted I have you tested I asked him if he doubted you and I assured him that you would not lie about something this important. What reason would you have to lie?” he demands, almost of himself instead of Jane.

“Thor,” Jane begins.

“How long were you going to let me think you were carrying my child? How long were you planning to con me?” he accuses and his words seem to hurt Jane.

Thor can’t find it in him to care too much.

“I wasn’t-that’s not what I meant to do, Thor. Please, you have to believe me. I just didn’t know how much seeing you with her would-”

“You have no right to be upset!” he booms, his voice loud and it startles Jane quiet.

She’s never heard him angry like this. She’s never heard his voice raised.

“I gave you every opportunity to be with me, to marry me, to build a life here with me and be my Queen. You didn’t want it! You flat-out refused to be tied down by me and this Kingdom but now that you see me and my wife happy, you change your mind?

“You have the audacity to raise obstacles between us because you have regrets?”

“Thor,” she tries again, but Thor won’t let her speak.

“Get out,” he says sternly, turning to move towards the stairs.

“What?!”

“I said, get out. You are no longer welcome in my home. Pray no one ever finds out of your treachery. And should you have the urge to return for any reason, don’t.”

Thor storms down the steps, so angry that each step shakes the tower.

He’s breathing heavily as he slams the door shut behind him.

The storm air helps to calm him a bit. It clears his mind at least and the past week zooms by him like an unpleasant movie.

All of that worry and the plotting and planning. The agony that he felt wondering if you’d leave him when you found out about his child with Jane was the most unbearable.

Your face flashes before his eyes and he knows that there’s only one place he can be right now.

He throws his hand out and a metallic whistling rushes closer before his fist closes around his hammer.

He swings it firmly and throws it up into the air as he makes for your home.

Now that he has nothing to keep him here, he’s eager to get back to you. He’ll tell you everything and hope that you can forgive him for lying to you about Jane.

Even though it was a lie by omission, it was still a lie.

“I’m coming, my cherub,” he whispers, so eager to have you in his arms again.

Nothing will ever tear him from you again. He is certain. Nothing. Not a false heir, or a former love, no doubts exist within him anymore. You are the one.

The only one.

[ficsilike-reblogged]

To Weep For The Sun

Summary:  Argella Baratheon never wanted to become a lady-in-waiting to her cousin's, Rhaegar, betrothed. But then Elia Martell smiled at her and the world tilted.

Pairing: Elia Martell/Baratheon!Female Original Character, Oberyn Martell/Baratheon!Original Female Character

WARNINGS: sneaking around with the love of your life behind your husband’s back, Elia and her babies have the canon ending, sorry, maximum angst

Word Count: 9.6k (is anyone surprised?)

(Banner by bb @thesadvampire who would always let me scream and cry about Elia) 

A/N:  This story bounces between the 'past' (pre-Robert's Rebellion) and the 'present' (post Rebellion.) Please let me know if you have any questions.

Or read on Ao3 here!

Robert’s face was red and wet—redder still from where her hand had connected with his cheek. The clattering of armor, of Kingsguard dogs rushing to their new king’s aid from the woman who had just smacked him, barely registered in her ears.

“You are a monster.”

**

Argella remembered meeting the princess before the royal wedding. She was a Baratheon—a far off cousin of the Targaryen family tree and the only girl born to Steffon and Cassana Baratheon and Queen Rhaella had requested she become a lady-in-waiting to the new princess of the Seven Kingdoms. It was supposed to be an honor, many others had been vying for the position she was unceremoniously saddled with, but she only saw it as an inconvenience. King’s Landing smelled. It had none of the charms of Storm’s End and she hated how warm every day was—where were the storms to lull her to sleep? Or the sea breeze to cool her heated skin?

And she was completely prepared to bribe her new slew of handmaidens to make sure her chalice was always filled with sweet wine but then…

“Hello,” a soft voice said.

And the world tilted.

Elia was a quiet sort of woman, who had a soft laugh and a wicked wit she only voiced in chosen few. And her poor heart was already firmly planted in Elia’s delicate hands when the princess called her into her chambers, late at night, only a few moons after her engagement to Prince Rhaegar had been announced.

King’s Landing, it seemed, had been very lonely for both of them.

“But it is good to have friends. True friends.”

Argella’s breath stuttered in her lungs when Elia reached out to touch her hand, pressing her gentle fingers around hers and squeezed. “Yes. Friends.” The word was strangled in her throat. “I would be blessed to call you friend, Princess.”

Elia chuckled and tightened her hold. “We are already friends.”

**

Even as the Kingsguard pushed her down to her knees at the base of the Iron Throne, Argella would not stop hurling insults at her brother—the usurper.

But she did not care about the stupid throne or whose ass sat on the stupid metal chair.

She cared about Elia and her babies.

“Did your hurt pride truly rob you of your last shred of humanity?”

“Silence!” Robert roared. He waved his hand and the armored grips on her shoulders were removed. “You are my sister. I will not fight you-”

“Fight me! You coward! You could not bear to have little Lyanna be anyone else’s wife! You are a spoiled boy with a toy—so you broke it so no one else could play with it.”

“I am your king! You will-”

“I will not! You will listen to me. You have robbed three innocents of their lives for your stupid pride. Elia and her children were not a threat to you. They would have renounced any claim to the throne if you had asked. But you left them bloody and nearly unrecognizable,” she spat. “They were children—babies. And Elia was gentle and kind. And you killed them!”

“I know!” Robert yelled, his voice cracking and echoing in the hall. “Do you truly believe that I do not care-”

“I know you don’t! Because you sit there with a crown on your head and wine in your gut like a glutton. You will ruin this kingdom—you will ruin yourself even more than you have already—you have ruined me!”

**

It was almost embarrassing how quickly Argella found herself half-in-love with the Dornish Princess. She was kind and beautiful and clever and she was fond of whispering vulgar jokes into her ear when they were surrounded by other highborn noblemen who were preparing for the royal wedding in just a few moons’ time.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” Argella murmured as they both pulled the blankets on Elia’s bed up to their chins in the dark room. Argella’s room was always too warm and, since she was the princess’ companion, it was blessedly common for the women to share a bed. After all, the companion was to tend to the princess’ every need at every hour she may need. “I think I’ve been waiting for you my entire life.”

Even in the dark, with the smallest sliver of moonlight filtering into the room, Argella watched a smile spread across Elia’s face. It was the sun—she was the sun.

And then Elia kissed her.

**

She wished she could say it looked like Elia was sleeping when she saw her next. But no. She had fought like a tigress against the hands of the Stranger but she was still ever so delicate. She had lost that fight.

“I’m sorry, my love. I am so sorry,” she whispered, her fingers just touching the ends of Elia’s hair, remembering how she used to braid it when Elia would be up late with her babies, nursing them or tending to their cries. It was always so soft under her fingers and Elia would smile at her over her shoulder whenever Argella tied off the ends. “I wish it were me. I wish it were me on this wretched table and you were still holding your babes close.” Tears tracked down her cheeks and splashed against Elia’s cooled skin. “Oh, my love. I am so sorry.”

**

The wedding was lavish, as it was bound to be for the Crown Prince and his bride.

Argella would be lying if she said it did not hurt to see Elia pledge her love and loyalty to Rhaegar. He did not deserve her. Rhaegar had been obsessed with prophecy since he was a boy and Argella wondered what he would do to Elia in pursuit of a fulfilled divination that was centuries old.

But she smiled at her Princess when she turned, holding Rhaegar’s hand, and was pronounced the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

The Seven Kingdoms did not deserve her either.

“She shines brighter than any sun, does she not?”

Argella turned at the sound of the voice and smiled as she recognized who was speaking. Oberyn Martell. Elia’s younger brother. He was a dashing man, filled with charisma and charm—and a temper as bright as his smile.

“She does.” Argella wanted to say more. Wanted to say that the dragon prince would try to stifle her shine, that the cloying dirt of the capitol would try to warp her into another mindless drone, that the last night Elia had spent as an unmarried woman had been in her arms. But she didn’t. She only smiled at Oberyn and clapped along with the crowd as the newly married couple walked by, out into the sunlight.

**

“I wanted to name you Princess of Dragonstone—my heir.”

Argella turned at the sound of Robert’s voice, biting back a snarl. “I would refuse. Have you no shame?”

“I need you-”

“You’re marrying Cersei Lannister. She will provide you plenty of heirs, I’m sure. Just as many as your precious Lyanna would have, too. Or any other girl in the Seven Kingdoms.” Argella turned back to her trunk and placed the dress she had been folding on top of the others.

“It was not me who killed her.”

“No. But you might as well have. You started the rebellion. You marched on the capitol. Every little thing comes back to you and your hurt pride, brother. And for that, I will never forgive you.”

**

Argella watched Rhaegar dance with his new wife and tried not to scowl. Weddings were supposed to be happy occasions. Royal weddings even more so. But she wanted to rip her hair out when Rhaegar was cold with Elia time and time again during the festivities. It was his wedding—he had married the most beautiful woman in the world, the kindest, the most gentle. And he could barely muster a smile.

“May I steal you?”

Argella nearly startled at the question but laughed as she recognized Oberyn at her side. “As long as it is only for a dance, my prince. You know I must stay by your sister’s side.” She placed her hand in his and let him lead her out toward the other dancing couples. He held her close and she let his pleasurable scent of spice and citrus invade her senses as he led her through the steps of the familiar dance.

“Elia speaks highly of you, Lady Argella.”

“She is too kind. It is a joy to be at her side.”

They spoke easily for the next few songs and dances, and Argella knew she could have easily fallen to Oberyn’s teasing and magnetic charms. She could have chased his smiles and made herself stupid trying to earn his laughter and attention. He was a handsome man, a learned knight, with worldly aspirations. He was who any woman would aspire to marry.

But all she could think of was how soft Elia’s lips had been last night.

But Oberyn smiled at her, unaware of her internal conflict, and she had to smile back. She could never deny him that, it seemed.

**

“You were my favorite, you know.”

Argella bit back the sneer she felt growing as she finished packing away the small trunk she had taken. “Renly and Stannis both starved for a year holding our home against the Tyrells but I am your favorite? I must say that I hope your new crown grants you a bit more awareness.”

Robert reached out and wrapped his strong hand around her wrist, stopping her movements. “Please, Argella. Please.”

And despite wanting to simply run him through with any sharp object she could get her hands on, she let her older brother turn her to face him and almost scoffed at the tears in his eyes. “What?”

“What would it take for you to forgive me?”

“More than you could give, your grace.”

Robert’s warm hand dropped. “I am giving you one hundred thousand dragons, to help you make a home wherever you see fit.”

“I don’t want your coin! I want Elia alive and breathing! I want her babies to still call me ‘Aunt Argella’ and tug on my hair! I want my life as it was—before your hurt pride ripped it away from me. I was happy, Robert. I was so happy.”

“You used to be happy on my lap, listening to me tell you stories. You used to climb into my bed when you had nightmares because you trusted your brother to keep you safe.”

Argella felt her chin wobble with fresh tears. “Yes. I should have known better. Should have known that you were a selfish brute when you never returned a single one of my letters after you were taken in by Jon Arryn at the Eyrie as his ward. Should have known when you dismissed me out of hand when you came back to Storm’s End. I waited all night for you, to see you come back on your mare. I made sure the cooks had your favorite meal waiting for you, spent more than a few dragons getting that ale you liked from the market—and you waved me off as soon as the gates were opened. You have always been selfish, Robert. I should have known you would take what little happiness I had and squash that, too.”

Robert’s face turned a familiar, terrible shade of sweaty red and he turned away sharply before turning back to her, dragging a hand down his cheeks. “It was not me! I did not steal your Elia away from you!”

“Then tell me who! Tell me who gave the order!”

**

Elia happily sighed as Argella kissed the backs of each of her thighs, up her back, shoulders, before nipping just slightly at the pulse of her neck. They had been granted a few hours reprieve of Rhaegar’s presence and had indulged themselves in a little carnality, filled with soft touches and wet kisses that lingered and fingers that moved to touch places only the other knew about until they were biting at the other’s shoulders with a cry of release. Elia’s labored breathing slowed as she turned to face her lover, tugging at the ends of her dark hair, silently requesting a kiss which Argella happily gave. “Only the sun can rival the warmth you bring me.”

“You are my sun, Elia.” And then she kissed her again.

**

“Dorne is calling for war. Prince Oberyn is readying House Martell’s bannerman as we speak,” Jon Arryn, Robert’s new Hand of the King, and surrogate father was pacing around the Small Counsel chamber like a white haired pony.

“My sister wants to travel to Sunspear to deliver Elia and her children to her family,” Robert said.

Argella held her breath from her hiding place behind the door, waiting for Jon Arryn or some other stupid man to say it was not her place.

“That is acceptable. Perhaps Prince Oberyn would be willing to marry-”

“I will not force my sister into any arrangement she does not design herself. That will be the last I hear of it, Lord Arryn, am I understood?”

Jon let out a sigh. “Argella, must learn her place, Your Grace. And it is to serve you and the Realm.”

**

“Oberyn has sent another raven.” Elia held up the bit of parchment with a smile. “It seems you have made quite an impression on him. He has dreamt of your ‘beautiful eyes and sweet smile’ while he has been running around playing sellsword in Essos.”

Argella chuckled and shook her head. “I am sure he has plenty of people to distract himself with. I will be barely a memory to him in a few moons’ time.”

Elia reached out and tugged at the end of Argella’s braid. “You think so little of yourself, my love. No one would ever be able to forget you. Even when I am old and frail and I can barely remember my own name, I will remember you. I know it. The way you smile, the sound of your laugh,” she reached out to brush a finger down her cheek, “the curve of this, just here. I will remember you.”

Argella leaned forward and kissed her. “And I shall remember you, too, my love. Until the end of my days, which I promise will be at your side.”

**

Dorne was warm—even as the last vestiges of Winter had the other kingdoms still firmly in its grip. Argella had to pull the silly gable hood from atop her head only a few hours after sunrise as they crossed the Red Mountains. The traveling caravan was small. Much smaller than what was probably proper. But that was what she wanted. House Martell did not need more strangers showing up at their doorstep.

It irritated her enough that Jon Arryn insisted he accompany her, telling Robert that Argella wouldn’t be capable of easing Doran’s (and Oberyn’s) need for vengeance.

Their want for vengeance was justified. Argella wanted vengeance.

And she would have it. She was not satisfied just yet. She wasn’t sure if she ever would be, even if the world was left in ashes.

**

“Lala,” sang a familiar voice. “Lala!”

Argella opened her eyes at the sound of her secret nickname and had to catch Elia as she pounced onto her bed. “What is it, my love?” She asked in a tired whisper, eyes half closed again already. The sun had not yet risen but it was not as if she would send Elia from her bed.

“I am with child. The maester just confirmed it.”

Argella sat up in bed and her hand pressed against Elia’s stomach, all traces of sleep evaporating in a heartbeat. “Truly?”

Elia happily nodded and placed her hand over Argella’s, squeezing her fingers.

“Oh, my love. I know you have always wanted a babe of your own.” She just wished it was someone who truly loved her. Not Rhaegar—not the dragon prince who would use her babies for some delusion. “They will be the most loved. I know it.”

“Even by you?” Elia asked, her melodic voice very soft, almost frightened. “I know you do not care for Rhaegar-”

“This child comes from you, my love. I love them already.” And Argella meant every word. She would love this little prince or princess as if they were her own. She knew the moment Elia’s lips touched hers all those months ago that this relationship, this clandestine bond, would always be confined to the shadows and the dark of the night. But she truly wanted to scream it from the rooftops that Elia was the love of her life. She wanted to hold her hand in the sunlight, kiss her for all to see. Wanted everyone to know that the Sun of Dorne was worthy of every bit of love anyone and everyone could give her. But she was quiet. She remained the perfect lady in the eyes of court, living for these stolen moments.

Elia kissed her—and Argella could feel her smile pressing against her mouth. It was Argella’s favorite sensation—aside from the more carnal feelings only Elia could elicit from her beneath their silken blankets. “I love you,” Elia whispered against her mouth. “You know that, don’t you? I love you.”

“I love you too. More than words could ever truly express.” She kissed Elia and ignored how something churned in her chest.

“I have a list of names—if they are a boy or a girl.”

“As your ‘most trusted confidante,’ I must insist that you add Argella to your list,” she said with a wink, referencing how the court referred to Argella. Elia smiled and moved down the bed just enough to lay her head in Argella’s lap, a silent invitation for her to play with her hair. “Tell me the story behind your name. It is one of your ancestor’s names, correct?”

Argella hummed as she started to weave a braid into Elia’s hair. “The Stormlands were once ruled over by the Durrandon family. But, during Aegon’s Conquest, the head of the house was King Argilac the Arrogant. Argilac and Aegon tried to find a common agreement but it quickly soured when Argilac chopped off the hands of Aegon’s envoy and sent them back to the Targaryens in a box. Orys Baratheon, Aegon’s Hand, then challenged Argilac to a duel and, of course, easily slew Argilac. The Storm Land armies fled. Argella was Argilac’s only daughter and heir. When she heard of her father’s death, she barred the gates at Storm’s End and crowned herself Storm Queen.”

“Now I see why you’ve been given such a name,” Elia teased, earning a pinch to her side.

“The Stormlanders heard of how Aegon and his sisters burned everyone in their way and turned on Argella as Orys approached with his army. They wrapped her in chains and presented her—naked, mind you—to Orys Baratheon. They told him that he could do whatever he wished to her as long as they did not suffer the same fate as Harrenhal.”

“I have not heard of this. How cruel!”

Argella sighed and nodded, finishing off one of the braids before starting another. “But Orys was kind. He wrapped his cloak around her and fed her warm foods, telling her of her father’s bravery on the battlefield.”

“And then they were married?”

“And then they were married. Orys took the Durrandon words as his own—Ours is the Fury—and House Baratheon was created.”

Elia was quiet as Argella finished the second braid. “That is cruel, to name you after a woman whose fate was less than fair. I only knew she was the wife of Orys Baratheon—but I might have dozed a little when learning the histories of the other kingdoms with my Septa.”

Argella laughed lightly and leaned down just enough to brush a kiss at Elia’s temple. “I do not blame you—but I did always wish I was Nymeria of Ny Sar instead of Argella Durrandon.” She then pressed a kiss to Elia’s lips. “But I am lucky to have you in my arms now.”

Elia reached up to tug at the loose strands of Argella’s dark hair. “There must be other names in your family that are kinder to women, no?”

“I’m sure there are—but women are rarely written about in our house’s history aside from how many sons she might have given her husband.”

“I remember learning of a mermaid…Elenei? Am I saying that right? Elenei?”

Argella chuckled and nodded. “Yes. Elenei the mermaid—daughter of a sea god and goddess of the winds. Fell in love with the First Storm King, Durran Godsgrief, it is said. Her parents forbid their love and used their might to tear down any castle he built for his bride. But he kept building. Building and building until their storms could not shake the stones free.”

“And Storm’s End was made,” Elia finished with a smile on her lips.

Argella hummed and glanced outside to the moon. What would her ancestors say of her now? Hiding her love in the dark.

“Elenei. I like that name,” Elia said, seemingly unaware of Argella’s bit of melancholy. “A much better story than poor Argella. She must be happy to know that someone as strong as you carries her name. I am sure of it.” She tugged again at Argella’s hair with a smile, drawing her gaze back to her. “Truly, I can only think of one person holding that name.” Elia turned in her lap to truly look up at her, bathed in moonlight. “It is you—only you.” She reached up and placed her warm hand against the curve of Argella’s cheek. “My Lala.”

**

The towers of Sunspear loomed overhead and she tried not to think of a young Elia running down those marble steps, a laugh on her lips and the sun on her skin.

This was the place Elia called home. This was the place that she had wanted to return to with her babies. This was the place that Argella never wanted to see without Elia at her side.

“My lady,” a knight said to her, draped in colors of House Martell, “Prince Doran is waiting for you in his Solar. I shall escort you. Your entourage will have to wait here.” His eyes cut to Jon Arryn in particular who was already opening his mouth to argue.

“I follow where you lead, Ser. Lord Arryn needs some sun anyway.” She only gave Jon Arryn a look in return, drying the words on his tongue before following the knight into the cooled shadows of the fortress.

The pair was quiet, only the sound of their footsteps echoing in their hall, before he slowed to a stop in front of a carved, white wood door and bowed his head just slightly before opening it for her.

“Lady Argella, I’ve been expecting you.”

**

Rhaenys was beautiful. Beautiful like her mother and liked to laugh when Argella would kiss her little tummy. Argella did not mind when Elia would ask her to hold the little princess when she grew tired. The birth had been hard and the healers and maesters said it would take time for her body to heal itself.

Rhaegar, the pompous silver-haired prince, did not seem to care that his wife was bedridden. He had already pressed Elia to agree to the name of Rhaenys and didn’t seem to spend much more time than necessary with his newborn daughter. He did dote on her, true. But Argella knew and wished that he could do more. More for Elia. More for Rhaenys. More for his family and less of that stupid prophecy he was known to obsess over when he was in trusted company.

“The dragon must have three heads.”

It all sounded so ridiculous. He had everything. A family who loved him. And he continued to not see that, willfully.

But she pushed that from her mind as Rhaenys happily slept in her arms while Elia was napping, too. Her sun tilted toward the slip of sunlight warming the side of her pillow as the sea washed up on the shore just a few feet below. The hum of Dragonstone was quiet.

This was peace. This was as perfect as her life could get, she knew it. Despite all the secrets, the hurt, the loneliness when Elia was called away, this right here? This was worth all of it.

Rhaenys’ dark eyes opened and she smiled as she recognized Argella—she was a smart little babe. “Hello, my little sundrop.”

**

Doran had given her a room in Sunspear for the night, telling her the arrangements had been made to have the funerals tomorrow. The Silent Sisters who had accompanied them down were making sure the bodies of Elia and her babies were prepared correctly for people of their station and rank.

Argella didn’t sleep that night. Doran seemed to know she wouldn’t and had a maid come in when the moon was at its highest with a bit of tea to help her. She took it with a soft ‘thank you’ but hardly sipped at it as the maid stood at the side of her bed.

“This was the princess’ room, you know, my lady. When she was a girl.”

And that just about destroyed her but she hid her face in her teacup and quickly drained its contents before handing it back to the maid who quietly excused herself, probably aware that the woman was about to burst into tears.

And Argella did, as the door shut in its frame. Through blurred vision, she could almost see Elia sitting at the edge of the bed with a smile and a book on her lap. She could almost see Elia wrapping herself in the golden silk of the blankets with a happy smile. She could almost see Elia.

And that was the worst part of it all. To know that Elia had been here, in this place, felt safe in this place, and now she was here—alone.

**

The Tourney at Harrenhal was a disaster. And that was putting it politely. There had been the unannounced and unexpected appearance of King Aerys—who had barely been seen outside Maegor’s Holdfast in the last two years. Then the appearance and subsequent disappearance of the mysterious Knight of the Laughing Tree. Little Lord Jaime Lannister had been inducted into the KIngsguard and then sent to King’s Landing to guard Queen Rhaella and little Prince Viserys, which in one move, stripped Tywin Lannister of his heir and refused Jaime the chance at more glory in the tourney.

But that was not even the worst of it. Elia had been feeling poorly the entire time and Argella was fretting constantly, like an old mother hen.

But she did remember how Elia was when she was pregnant with Rhaenys, and knew that Elia wanted to keep the second pregnancy a secret until she was sure she could carry this babe to term, too. She was so delicate. But she still sat in the box, beside her uncle Ser Lewyn Martell of the Kingsguard, and Oberyn, who had finished his ‘adventures’ across the Narrow Sea, to cheer on her husband in the tourney.

On the night before the final day of the tourney, Argella was happy to see Elia with a bit of life back in her face as she danced with Oberyn and Ser Arthur after the night’s feast. Oberyn then called Argella for a dance and whispered in her ear, making her laugh as one song turned into two then three. And if he snuck a kiss against her cheek, she would never tell.

Argella then pulled her princess away with a secretive smile, toward her tent. “We cannot be sure that Rhaegar will win tomorrow—so I wanted to be sure to crown you the Queen of Love and Beauty.”

Elia laughed and kissed her as Argella plopped a crown of braided blue roses on her shining black hair. “No matter if he does or not, I know that I am yours,” she whispered.

And, for a moment, Argella was happy.

The happiness would not last.

Rhaegar did indeed win the jousting tourney and he was given an ornate crown of blue roses to crown his Queen of Love and Beauty. Argella steeled herself to watching Rhaegar lathe half-hearted attentions on his wife—but what happened was much worse. Rhaegar rode his horse past his pregnant wife and placed the wreath of roses in the lap of Lyanna Stark.

**

The Septon’s words were a low hum in her ears. She could only stare blankly ahead as the funeral processions continued on. It felt like a rusted blade had wedged itself between her ribs and twisted with each breath she took. It ached.

Most of the Dornish in attendance did not look at her. She might as well have been just another pillar in the large hall. Unnecessary and unimportant. But some others… some other she could hear whisper if she put in enough effort.

“That one… the doe. The Usurper’s sister.”

“She must be mad to show herself here.”

“She should have died instead of Princess Elia.”

And they were right. She wanted to be dead instead of Elia.

But a few were kind, their eyes sad as they looked at her, as if they knew something she did not. One of them was Harmen Uller, Lord of Hellholt. His large, warm hand clasped her shoulder and squeezed gently, murmuring his condolences with kind eyes. Lady Mellario, Doran’s wife, also did not avoid her, giving her a small smile as they passed each other in the halls and offering her solar if Argella ever needed a reprieve from the court at Sunspear. But her young daughter, Princess Arianne, was always at her side, and it hurt to see the happy little girl who would always ask after her Aunt Elia.

It hurt.

So she sat in her rooms and cried.

**

Elia was quiet as she sat on the edge of her bed. She had managed to school her face into careful indifference during the tourney but had sunk into herself as soon as Elia had pulled her away into the tent. Oberyn was raging—vowing vengeance against the Crown Prince for the public display of shame he had just cast over his wife.

But Argella did not hear his words, only sitting at her princess’ side and holding her hand, trying to be there for her when she needed. She would do anything to make Elia smile again.

“He told me that he would do this,” Elia finally said, pulling a gasp from Argella and stopping Oberyn in his tracks.

“What?”

Elia lifted her chin from her chest and looked at her brother with tears in her eyes. “The maester told me that this babe would be the last I could bare.”

“What does that matter?” Oberyn hissed. “Two is plenty—two is perfect. Rhaenys is perfect,” Argella said, grip tightening on Elia’s hand.

“He has been obsessed with a prophecy—the dragon must have three heads—since he was a boy. He thinks the savior of the world will come from his bloodline.”

“I will split his head in three,” Oberyn said but Elia reached out and grabbed his arm as he moved toward the tent’s flap.

“Do not, Oberyn. I will remain his Queen, the true Queen. The babe I now carry will be king and any child the wolf-girl bares him will only be a spare. He has promised me this. But I had…I had only hoped that he would have waited until they were alone for him to start his courtship.” She shook her head. “And I am not sure if the girl told her betrothed of Rhaegar’s plan.”

Oh, that was right—Lyanna had been recently betrothed to Robert. He had been so excited to announce the news and then promptly brought two women to his chambers to ‘celebrate.’ Argella doubted marriage would tame his appetites. But his pride would be wounded. And a wounded stag was a dangerous one—Robert embodied the Baratheon’s words to his core. Ours is the Fury.

“Robert is an eligible lord. He can find another bride, I am sure of it.”

Elia nodded. “I do hope so. For his sake.”

**

The funeral had ended and Doran had asked her to wait for him in his solar. She awkwardly stood near the window, watching the sea lap at the shore until the door opened with a slam.

“How dare you show your face here, in Elia’s home!” Oberyn was already raging from across the room, his voice echoing. He was crossing the marble floor then, strides long. “You—the sister of the Usurper. You—who my sister trusted with her life. I should strike you down where you stand.” He stopped as he stepped to her side, his beautiful face twisted into a snarl most fowl.

“I would let you.”

And that seemed to strike at Oberyn as he took a single step back. “Have you no self-preservation? Did you come here to let us kill you like some lamb? To sate your brother’s guilt?”

“No…no I came here to…bring Elia home.”

Oberyn’s snarl faded. “Then you come here to sate your own guilt.”

“I came here to bring Elia home,” she repeated, standing just a fraction straighter despite the urge to curl into herself, as if that would shield her from Oberyn’s stare.

“You have done that. Leave.”

**

Dragonstone felt as if it were about to be consumed by the volcano on which it sat.

The paranoia of King Aerys had only grown, thinking everyone was his enemy. A raven the king had sent to his son was filled with unsubtle threats and demands for Rhaegar to stay at his side, to remain loyal to his father.

But Rhaegar only played his stupid harp and pored over his scrolls about prophecy as Elia languished in her pregnancy.

“He is preoccupied with saving the world, Lala. Try not to hate him too much.”

Argella sighed as she pulled the blankets a little higher around Elia. She had been so cold lately, constantly shivering as her hands cradled her growing belly. “If he truly wanted to save the world, he would have deposed his father long ago.” She shook her head. “He should be preoccupied with keeping you comfortable. You are carrying his child.”

“We both know you are more suited for it—and I prefer your company,” Elia said with a smile.

Argella had to smile at that and leaned down to kiss Elia’s forehead before sneaking a kiss against her lips, too. “Then I shall stay at your side until you tire of me.”

Elia chased her lips as best she could for another kiss before falling back against the silk-covered pillow with a smile. “You know I will never tire of you.”

**

The sun was beating down on her but the soft breeze off the water almost made it tolerable. The dark veil over her face fluttered and hid her tears from the other onlookers. The grand tomb of Elia and her children had been finished just that morning. The final brick laid. They would rest beside their ancestors in Sunspear’s ornate necropolis. They were home again. They could rest.

Argella walked forward and pressed her hand over the deep carving of Elia’s name. Princess Elia Nymeros Martell – The Sun of Dorne.

“Goodbye, my love.” She lifted the veil just enough to kiss the smooth stone of Elia’s name—the last kiss she would be able to give her. Her fingers traced Rhaenys and Aegon’s names, too. A quiet goodbye.

It was time for her to go. She had only a few more things to attend to and then…she would set sail. She would leave Westeros.

The royal stables still held her wheelhouse and she found the trunk she was needing and waved off the servants who offered her help. She dragged the trunk into her room and unlocked it before feeling fresh tears sting her eyes. Tucked inside, neatly tucked beside her dresses and chemises, was a portrait. It was of Elia and her babies. They were smiling and happy and…alive.

Some artist from Braavos had impressed Elia with his talents as he sold his wares at the market on Dragonstone and Argella had secretly commissioned him for the portrait only a handful of moons before the rebellion started. She had meant to gift it to Elia for her next nameday.

It was a true likeness—he had perfectly captured the gentle warmth in Elia’s eyes as she looked down at Aegon in her arms as he slept and Rhaenys dutifully peeked over her mother’s arm to look down at her brother. The gold dragons Robert had gifted her were left forgotten at the bottom of the trunk as she closed the lid, the portrait in her hands as she moved toward Doran’s solar.

A servant bowed to her as he announced her presence and Doran welcomed her, telling her to take a seat across from him at his finely carved desk as he finished a bit of correspondence. And she patiently waited, the portrait sitting on her lap, her arms wrapped around its frame as if she were trying to hug it—to hug the little family on its canvas.

Perhaps she was.

When she handed it over to Doran, her fingers lingers on the carved frame before dropping back down her lap.

Doran was quiet as he looked at the portrait but she could see the emotions running through his eyes before he tightly shut them and nodded once before calling for and handing it off to a servant and whispering where he wanted it hung. The servant nodded before walking away, the portrait in his hands held like a precious gem.

Argella told him of how Elia had loved the artist’s skill and Doran smiled at that. “She would have loved it. I know it.” He paused to clear his throat, the warble of tears in his voice. “It is a fine gift, my lady.”

“I have…one last gift for you. Much less palatable than the last.”

**

Rhaegar had left.

His wife had nearly died bringing his son into the world and he had set off with his band of guards to the Riverlands, quoting the prophecy again. Lyanna Stark waited for him.

The raven Argella had sent to Robert, telling him to break off the engagement to the wolf-girl had went unanswered.

“I am nervous, Lala. Everything is about to change.”

Argella stepped beside Elia at the window and kissed her temple as she watched Rhaegar and his retinue recede on the horizon. “And I shall be with you every step of the way.”

**

“I know that you were more than a companion to Elia.” Doran said it with such ease that it startled her. They had been quietly sipping tea in his solar as the sun rose when he spoke. “She loved you. I know you love her. You have lost your sun, too. And you have come here, to return her and her children home, despite knowing that your welcome would not be kind.” Doran took her hand in his and gently patted at her wrist. “The truth will come out, little doe. But we must let all of Dorne grieve, too.” He sighed and his eyes moved to the giant skull sitting on a tall-legged table. That had been the price Robert paid to try to buy Argella’s forgiveness. He had told her who had been the one to steal the sun from the world and demanded Tywin hand him over or he would not marry Cersei. Tywin had agreed. “I have been told that you are hoping to set sail for Braavos on the next ship that comes to port in a fortnight.”

She nodded.

“You will always be welcome here.”

“I cannot stay here—not without Elia.”

And Doran nodded at that. “If you ever care to return, there will be a place for you at my table.”

“That is kind of you, Prince Doran. Your wife has also suggested I visit her homeland of Norvos, if I am given the chance.”

Doran opened his mouth to respond when the door opened and Oberyn strode in. His dark eyes darted from his brother to Argella. “I thought you would have left by now.”

“Oberyn,” Doran scolded.

“I am surprised you would sup with a Baratheon, brother. First Jon Arryn comes and tries to offer peace and you take it without argument.”

Without a word, Doran opened a drawer on his desk and produced a bit of parchment from its depths. “Oberyn. I have a letter for you.”

“Now is not the time, brother.”

“It is from Elia.”

“I have already been given the last letter my sister wrote to me. Telling me of how scared she was in the Red Keep and how she loved me.” His dark eyes looked to Argella again. “How she wished that I could have been there.”

“There was another, brother,” Doran gently said, extending his arm out, lifting the letter a little higher. 

Oberyn looked from Doran to Argella again before pulling his lips tight against his teeth and walking over to snatch the parchment from Doran’s outstretched hand. He opened it and Argella watched his dark eyes scan the words, his face crumpling as he finished. And then he looked to her again. “You? It was you?”

Argella looked to Doran who only looked back at her, eyes unreadable. “I…I don’t understand.”

Oberyn carefully tucked the paper into his tunic before marching forward to grasp Argella’s arm and nearly hauled her out of the room, through the halls, and toward his own chambers. When the door shut, he pushed her into the overstuffed chair at his desk. Dozens and dozens of letters were neatly stacked on top and Oberyn whispered that she should read them. He placed the letter he had just received beside the stack. “You deserve to know.” And then he left her there, alone in his solar.

It took Argella a moment to work up the nerve to reach out and grasp the first letter, recognizing Elia’s neat handwriting.

**

Argella dashed down the stairs toward Elia’s chambers with a smile on her face. She had woken in a good mood at Elia’s side that morning and had only slipped away to dress for the day. The sound of metal on stone seemed to echo in the halls and she briefly wondered if the royal guards were running drills.

But, as she turned the corner toward the hall that contained Elia’s chambers, two spears were thrust out toward her. “Lady Argella Baratheon, you are forbidden from seeing Princess Elia.”

“Move aside. I am her maid—it is my duty to-”

“Your brother has taken up arms against the Crown. House Baratheon are traitors. You are now a hostage until your brother is dead and your brothers swear fealty—or they are killed.”

“I demand you move aside this instant! I am no threat to Elia or her babies. I am loyal—you have-”

Two more guards suddenly grasped her arms and started hauling her back toward her chambers.

“Elia?! Elia?” She screamed.

But she was a prisoner here, too. She knew it.

**

My dear Oberyn, I am in love. I know only you would truly understand when I say that it is not with my husband. I shall only call them Lala, to keep their identity secret—I would not have them persecuted at Court if these letters would be discovered. But I am happy, brother. Happier than I ever thought possible.

They have kept me sane, dried my tears. When their lips touch mine, I believe I have tasted heaven—if only for a moment. My Lala is my haven in this wretched world. Rhaenys is fond of Lala, too. It is…almost as if the gods have blessed me with them, letting me have my true family at my side, letting me know what I should have had. …perhaps it is actually a curse.

Over and over again, Elia had written to Oberyn about ‘Lala,’ telling him of how they lived. How they loved. She read of how much Elia had loved her.

**

“Lala?” The voice was soft, but it still woke her from sleep.

Argella sat up in her bed in an instant, recognizing the dark shape at the edge of her bed. She reached out and drew Elia into her bed and quickly pressed her lips to hers, desperate and wanting.

“I do not have much time. The guards are changing shifts and they will notice I am not in my chambers if I do not time this correctly. But I had to see you.” She kissed Argella again. “I needed to see you.”

“You must know I would never, ever do anything to endanger you or Rhaenys and Aegon.”

“I know, my love. I know it as well as I know my name. But I have been summoned to King’s Landing. We leave at first light.”

“Will I be coming with you?”

Tears filled Elia’s eyes as she shook her head. “You cannot. You are to stay here as leverage against your brothers. And I do not know what Aerys would do to you if you were to come to Court again. I have learned he has been burning dozens of people a day.”

“You cannot go,” Argella said, grasping at Elia’s hands. “It is not safe.”

“You know I must. I would only make his ire worse if I prolong how long it takes me to arrive. I would rather arrive with my head held high than in shackles that I know these knights would slap on my wrists if given the order.”

“Elia, please,” the tears were choking her. “Please, do not-”

But she kissed her again. “I love you.” And in the next breath, she was gone.

**

One last letter remained and she dreaded what it held, what Elia had written to Oberyn to make him forgive her so easily, but she slid her thumb under the broken seal anyway and read it.

Oberyn. I know my time on this plane is coming to a close. I can only hope that my babies will survive this but I know in my heart of hearts, that they may not. The Seven Heavens await us all. I wish I could have seen Sunspear one more time, pushed you into the pools at the Water Gardens like I did when we were children. You used to pout so much after I would do that, and mother always fussed over you. I miss you brother. More than words can say. I wish I had more time. When this is over, please tell Argella, my Lala, I love her. Tell her I know she was innocent in all of this—it was not her doing. Tell her to smile. Tell her I will wait for her. She helped me understand what love should be like—she gave me her heart and I gave her mine. Tell her that I will be with her—every sunrise and every sunset. I am with you all.

The last letter slipped from her hand and Argella wept.

**

Her hands hurt. For hours on end, she would hit the locked door of her chambers, pleading to be let out.

But no one would answer. She only heard the terrible sound of metal on stone as knights moved through the halls and once a day, a plate of food was slid beneath her door.

How long had it been? If she was counting the moon’s cycles correctly—it had been three months.

She had nearly given up the last tendrils of hope she had before her door suddenly swung open and a familiar face stood in her doorway. Queen Rhaella Targaryen looked as bruised and beaten as ever, but the gentle swelling of her stomach was new—she was pregnant.

“Lady Argella,” her voice was as soft as it ever was. “I must apologize for your captivity. I have instructed a ship to have you brought to Greenstone—your mother’s home, was it not?”

“It…it was, your grace.”

Rhaella nodded and held out a hand to Argella, helping her stand from her place on the cold, stone floor. “I hope you do not hold me in any ill will. I had not heard of your imprisonment when we disembarked. I would have had you home sooner.”

Argella shook her head, her greasy hair falling in front of her face. “I know you are kindhearted, your grace. I am happy to see you safe.”

Rhaella’s answering smile was small and she nodded. “I will have a maid sent up to help you wash. Your ship will leave at first light.”

And Argella would have been lying if she did not feel a bit of relief as she saw the familiar island of Greenstone come into view as the ship neared its shores. Her aunt and uncle were quick to welcome her and made sure she was comfortable in their finest rooms. And it was only then, that Argella had the nerve to ask what had happened.

Her aunt smiled. “Our little Robert is King of the Seven Kingdoms. Is that not wonderful news?”

“And…and Princess Elia? Little Rhaenys and Aegon?” She hated the sound of hope in her voice. It was cruel to her own ears.

Her uncle sputtered and looked to his wife for a moment. “They were killed when the Lannister army sacked the city.”

And the scream Argella let out nearly shook the walls.

**

Oberyn sat at her side without a word. He did not speak. Neither did she.

But silence eventually turned to quiet, stilted conversation which evolved into seeking each other out at meals and then Oberyn was slipping into her rooms at night so they could continue their discussions, falling back into old habits of hidden smiles and secrets and trying to make each other laugh even if they wanted to cry.

On the last night, Oberyn slipped into her room and watched as she packed away her belongings and readied for bed. As she neared the bed, he stood and grasped her hands in a soft grip that had her sucking in a shuddering breath. She did not want to say goodbye just yet.

“I loved you once. I might love you again—I believe I do already.”

That was equal parts the best and worst thing he could have ever said. “And I love you still. But not in the way you deserve. You…” the words were hard in her throat. “You deserve to be someone’s sun. You deserve to be someone’s first choice. And you will be, I know it. You will find the true love of your life.” She paused. “And I know I would only be a reminder of those who you loved and lost.”

“Just as I would be to you.”

Argella nodded and dropped her head to her chest. “Yes. I am so sorry, Oberyn. Truly.”

But he shook his head and squeezed at her fingers. “Do not be sorry, little doe. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He stepped closer and rested his forehead against hers, both of them squeezing their eyes shut at the contact. “Let us not part on such sad terms. Let our last memory together be one of happiness.”

Argella nodded as best she could, trying to keep the warmth of his embrace as close as possible. “Whatever you wish. Whatever you want. It is yours.”

And the night they spent together was filled with hungry, searching kisses and warm hands and slick skin. Oberyn kissed her as his release rumbled through him and then quickly made sure she found hers, too, before making sure she was truly tired and finding euphoria with each other again before they both fell asleep in her rumpled blankets.

And she did sleep soundly—far better than she had in over a year. Before the Rebellion. But she still woke before the sun and took a moment to watch Oberyn sleep—peaceful amongst the silk. Carefully, she brushed the hair away from his face and kissed his brow in a silent goodbye before slipping away.

At the port, she caught sight of Harmen Uller and his retinue, preparing their boats to return to Hellholt.

“Ah, my lady. Prince Doran has told me you are departing as well.”

Argella only nodded before seeing a beautiful woman step to Harmen’s side.”

“This is my daughter, Ellaria Sand.”

“My lady,” Ellaria said with a small curtsey.

Argella mirrored the motion. “Lady Ellaria.”

But Ellaria chuckled. “I am no lady. But I do wish you fair travels.” Ellaria reached out and grasped Argella’s hands and squeezed, as if knowing that she was in desperate need for some sort of simple contact. “And whatever lies before you, I hope it is kinder than what lies behind.”

Lord Uller nodded at his daughter’s word.

“And I wish the same for you. Your kindness… it has been most welcome.” She smiled as best she could and bid them goodbye as they were boarded onto their fine ship. And then it was time for her to do the same.

She crossed the gangplank and was welcomed by the crew who had been expecting her—and her gold. Before she was shuffled away to her cabin below deck, Argella turned and looked back at Sunspear, trying to press it into her memory. She wanted to remember how the sun shimmered on the golden towers and how the sea salted the air and the sand glistened.

And on just the edge of the dock, just a few feet away from the bustle of the early morning crowd, was Oberyn. He raised a hand to her, a quiet goodbye. Argella did the same.

And then she turned and walked away.

**

Braavos was welcoming. Filled with song and people who would smile and the customs of the city demanded that the highborn and wealthy wear black—it was fitting. She could wear black the rest of her days, a mourning dress. But while they would treat her with the respect a woman of her station warranted, both high and lowborn would take an opportunity to coo over the babe on her hip.

It had only taken her a few moons to realize she was with child. And Elenei came screaming into the world just past midday, when the sun was at its highest. Fitting. Elenei looked like a Baratheon—except for her eyes. Her viper eyes that would shine in the light and always seemed to know more than she said. Those were inherently Oberyn. She was a Martell.

And she was the delight of the maids who watched her when Argella was tending to her duties as a companion to the Merling Queen, one of the most revered courtesans Braavos had ever sheltered. Her duties mostly included letting Laena, as only Argella was allowed to call her when they were alone, speak of her troubles and help her remember when she was supposed to meet whichever rich lord had paid for her company that week.

Laena was kind and sweet and sometimes would simply cry when she felt that her public persona had robbed her of a true life, of happiness. In a way, Argella was reminded of Elia. A kind woman shackled to duties she did not truly agree to and confined within a gilded cage. So, she let Laena use her as a walking diary, let her express emotions she could not with anyone else. It was cathartic for both of them, in a way.

Argella did not need the coin the position provided—she could have lived very comfortably with the small mountain of gold Robert had given her. But she needed a distraction—and the connections she made at Laena’s side made sure Elenei would be as high-ranking as she ever could be in Westeros.

Elenei was her whole world. The light of her days. She need only look at her daughter’s face to feel herself smile.

She hoped that Oberyn would smile again, too. She hoped her would find happiness with someone kind and beautiful who would handle his wrath with gentleness. Her mind conjured a thought of Ellaria and she found herself smiling at the thought. They would be a handsome pair. Maybe the gods would allow them to be happy.

For a few years, as Elenei continued to grow and prosper into a lovely and well-learned little lady, Argella pondered telling Oberyn of his daughter across the Narrow Sea. But that would have been crueler, wouldn’t it? To drag him back to into the tumult and loss she knew she embodied for him and his family.

And Elenei seemed to know that her father was an important man—but that her mother’s heart also belonged to another. And would forever.

“The sun is shining today, mama. That always makes you smile,” Elenei would say whenever the almost ever-present clouds would clear for a few hours.

“Yes, my sweet one. The sun will always make me smile.”

Elenei smiled and held her mother’s hand, dragging her out of their manse as their servants chuckled at the familiar sight. “Then I must make you smile, mama!”

**

“Do you think you’ll love me forever?” Elia asked, eyes closed as sleep started to take her.

“I know I will.”

(And another banner by my darling @starlight-starwrites​ I love you)

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!

[venusdeus]

Court of Kings - Chapter 1

Summary: Sent to a neighboring kingdom to secure an alliance, forced to give up your dreams and ambitions, disregarded as a means to an end. You however have no desire to fulfil their wishes. And neither does Oikawa.

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x female reader

Genre: Fluff, comedy, angst, royalty au, arranged marriage au, enemies to lovers au (more like enemies to allies to friends to lovers), eventual smut?

Word count: 2700+

Warnings: All the characters are adults unless specified. This chapter is sfw. Minors do not interact.

Notes: Part 1 of a long series I’m planning to write. This is my first fic in this blog so I would greatly appreciate comments, follows and feedback!

Read Prologue first <...> Chapter 2

August 5th

The first messengers arrived when you were having afternoon tea with your literature instructor in the gardens of your summer residence, as your brother was practicing his sword skills not too far. A maid sent by your mother brought you the news of their negotiation a few hours later, accompanied by some of the strawberry macarons you loved so much.  

If it were up to you, you would refuse such a ridiculous offer even before it was brought to your attention. Now that they had a male heir to the throne however, there was no use of a girl that had no claim to become the future ruler, other than being sent to create diplomatic relations now that you were over twenty summers.

“Where do you think they are from?” your brother asked as he tried to dust off his clothes, quite tired from following the orders of his practice partner all day long.

“I wouldn’t know, I didn’t see any flags with them.” you continued as he looked disappointed “But they were wearing blue, so at least we know it's not from the south.”

He nodded; his eyes wide with worry “I am glad they are not sending you there.”

“No one is sending me anywhere yet Hiro.” you answered quite annoyed, turning your head sharply to glare at the boy.

It was not his fault per see but him being recognized as the heir has left you in an awkward situation for the past twelve years. You loved your brother dearly, unlike the distant relationship you had with your parents. It was not because you had the ambition to rule the kingdom either. Of course, it was unfair as you were the firstborn, and if not for what was between your legs, you would also have been the one to inherit the crown.

Even if that was so, you simply did not find it in yourself to become a leader. You, however, did wish to be able to shape your own future. One that did not involve fulfilling the selfish wishes of others.

“It would be awfully lonely without you.” he sighed, instantly making you feel guilty for sounding a little bit too harsh.

Hiro looked incredibly small for his age, standing there with his shoulders slouched, fingers flicking, a skinny and sickly kid since the day he was born. He took after your father with his dark hair and almost pitch-black eyes, but with your mother's facial features, a contrast to your own looks that bore no resemblance to any of them, another reason for your alienation from the rest of the family.

“And it would be awfully quiet without you.” you teased “Maybe then I would be able to read in peace.”

Several footsteps coming behind you silenced you both before Hiro could retort, cutting the joyful air and replacing it with a heavy feeling.

Your mother was a beautiful woman that much was true, but in a different way to that of her kids. The Queen had extremely sharp features and her painted lips always supported a displeased frown. She acted as her title suggested, prim and proper, she fit her role perfectly.

Renowned for her charm when she was younger, she did not lose much to the ages if not for the wrinkles next to her keen eyes and the white threads on her hair. Likewise, she was as smart as she was alluring. Coming from a family that lost their wealth a long time ago even though they still supported titles, no one would even dream of her being second to the sole ruler of their beloved country. She was a success-driven woman, which made her a threat in the eyes of many in the court, thus she was not given the right to make a decision when it came to the education of the heirs she produced. Although affectionate towards her kids first, she had no say on the time she had with them, causing their family ties to weaken, and mostly spent her time with foreign ambassadors. A responsibility entrusted upon her by her husband.

“I see you received my message.” she declared not looking at you directly “We will talk more about this after our guests leave. For now, I want both of you to go to your rooms and stay there until dinner.”

You could sense the irritation in her voice. It was not for her kids, however, as you could see the dark circles under her eyes, a sign of her losing sleep for the past few days.

“Won’t we meet our guests?” Hiro questioned before you could.

“It is not needed as they are only messengers.” the Queen answered shortly before continuing her walk towards the main hall, her maids trailing behind. “I will see you two in an hour.”

Leaving your brother behind, you decided to head down towards the observatory. You knew that you would get an earful from your maids later for not changing your garments for the dinner, but your head was filled with too many questions and negative possibilities to care about dresses. It was not as if you did not know that this day would come. It even took longer than expected if all things considered. Most in your position would be engaged before they even stopped using diapers. It was a more political alliance than anything else, decided by the respective kingdoms and the advisors.

You even saw the letters that were exchanged since last year with multiple seals supporting different coat of arms. The council of your father must have declined the offers before this. Not for your sake, at least you didn’t think it was, but for not suiting their taste. It was a big deal for the princess of a country, whether being the heir or not, to marry someone as it reassured the ties you would create.

The only positive thing that happened so far was the fact that you would not be sent to the south. The Southern Kingdom was placed across the sea and was an important trade partner to your own.

It was a wealthy country for sure, but also too grim and the people too wild. Other than the traded goods it wasn’t a traveller-friendly country. They kept to themselves and even though the only thing that separated the two port kingdoms was a narrow sea, they had a vastly different culture. These differences resulted in legends and the rumors about the country becoming more and more outrageous over time.

They called their men barbaric, only interested in hunt and the art of war. Their women proclaimed witches, quite beautiful unlike the stereotype, but worshippers of a different God. All just foolish rumors said your history instructor. He was a wise man that travelled a lot when he was younger and according to him these tales were nonsense. Their folk did not originate there but immigrated over a few centuries ago. He taught you that the people of the Southern Kingdom were that of culture and arts. They just did not like intruders. His words didn’t ease your or Hiro’s heart however as you were fed these tales since you were younger.

If you could find a way to escape from this responsibility you would. Yet, since the first time you sensed what was going on you were looking for an answer, just to be disappointed every time.

The dinner was cold and tasteless even though it was made from the best ingredients one could manage to find. “The lady that makes them must hate her occupation with a passion” claimed your brother when you were dismissed “I can’t understand how mother likes it.”

Once again, the King did not join you at the table. It was always the same excuse, politics, responsibilities. But you knew better. You knew why your parents did not share a bed anymore and you could see the looks women of the court gave to your father. It was not because the King was a good-looking man, quite the opposite in fact, but power attracted people.

You were fully grown now and even when you were younger, you knew what these actions indicated. You even had the most unfortunate memory of seeing one of them, who was not much older than you, leaving your father's chamber looking quite flushed. You would have not cared if only the woman did not give you a curtsy while supporting a smirk.

Lady Winna was her real name, daughter of a lord that was close to the King, nicknamed Lady Whore by you. And most of the time, she was the reason your father would skip the meals altogether only to receive a feast in his room later that night. Which was why you knew that you should never hope for a love match. If lucky you could maybe be friends with your future partner.

“She does not hate her job, she hates her life” you replied “Not that it would matter, she will leave soon. I heard she was pregnant with a lord’s child. A married one on top of that.”

Hiro gasped “What if someone were to hear you talking about these rumors” he exclaimed hitting your arm quite forcefully “you could be punished.”

“Don’t act as if you never say such stuff you little bridge troll. I know how you talk behind your instructors.” you mused rubbing the pain off. “And who will punish a princess I ask you? If not for mother or father?”

“Do I need to know what I should punish you for?”

Both you and Hiro jumped at the unexpected voice of the Queen, a gasp leaving your mouths. She was holding a box in her hand and her face was supporting a rare, serene expression.

“Nothing of importance.” replied Hiro quickly “We were just afraid of falling behind our studies.”

The Queen did not seem convinced as her eyes narrowed, but she had a small genuine smile on. “I see. Why don’t you go on ahead and start your nightly studies then? I need to talk to your sister privately in the meantime.”

Hiro let out a snort that he tried to cover with a cough. You are in trouble he mouthed before bowing to your mother and disappearing through the corridor.

“I would like you to know I was just repeating what the ladies in the court were saying. Not that I believe the rumors of course, it is quite indecent.” you tried to explain quickly but the Queen cut you with a shake of her head.

“That is not why I wanted to talk to you dear. It is however quite incident for a lady to talk that way you are right.” she sighed “Why don’t we talk in my study?”

You knew what was coming now, after all you could not remember the last time you had a conversation with your mother alone, the relaxed expression on her face, however, gave you hope. Maybe, you thought, they decided it was not time yet. Or maybe they did not like the offers that came through.

“Close the door, will you?” she asked walking towards the desk that stood before the bookshelves that covered the walls.

“Where are your attendants?” you questioned as you followed her inside “Is there something wrong?”

“I thought you would be more comfortable if it were just the two of us that’s all. I need to show you something.” She answered motioning towards the box she was holding. “It came this morning. For you of course. Go on, open it.”

The box itself was made from heavy oak, painted black with a family crest carved on top of it. The symbol looked familiar enough, but you could not concentrate enough to remember where you knew it from over the heavy beating of your heart. Opening it cautiously you took a sharp breath between your teeth, observing the contents.

Inside stood a tiara that was made from white gems shaped in intricate designs that you have not encountered before and in the middle stood an icy blue diamond so big that you could have sworn it must have cost the yearly earnings of a whole country.

“Not a ring.” You stated matter of factly “A very bold choice for a gift.”

“Indeed. But you cannot expect less from Seijoh.” Your mother replied with a cautious voice, almost as if she was calculating your reaction.

“Seijoh…” the box cluttered on the table as you let go of it abruptly “You are sending me up north? We waged war against them for years! Even before my grandfather! And now you are sending me there?”

You knew the country itself was wealthy enough and that it had a strong military presence. They had many allies within the countries that bordered yours as well.  But they also claimed right on your countries throne by sighting territorial dispute as well as a marriage between the two countries that produced no heir.

Now they were sending you there as a scapegoat. To secure his claim to the throne. And maybe even to theirs. An eye for an eye.

It took another week for your father to send a response and invite the Crown Prince and the King of Seijoh for a short visit before the decision was finalized and another two for them to arrive on the outskirts of your kingdom with their entourage behind.

As you sat in your suite biting your nails and waiting for their arrival, your maids were going in and out with different dresses in their hands looking for your approval. You on the other hand did not have the mental energy to entertain their ideas. It was bad enough that you had to attend a ball given in their honor that very evening, but you also had to be in the throne room soon enough to welcome them into the castle. Not to mention this would be the first time that you were to meet your possible future husband.

You heard of him before of course. How could you not when his reputation preceded him? A very cunning and ambitious young man, yet it was his looks that brought the most gossip. You heard his name whispered among the staff when they did not know you were listening and heard the ladies giggle when they mentioned the time that they spent in their court, with him.

It was enough to leave a sour taste in your mouth. Was it too much to ask that your future partner was a man of intelligence and few words? At least you would know that you could get along with him then. But a sharp and striking Casanova? They had to be jesting. That was the only possible explanation for this mockery.

As if your fathers’ ridiculous behaviors wasn’t enough now you had to entertain another man like him. It was pretty common for monarchs to take on other lovers, but you would not be embarrassed by a man you did not know in your own house, husband or not.

When you finally entered the throne room you could hear the commotion outside caused by non-other than the infamous man that was plaguing your thoughts for the past week. Your mother motioned you to hurry and take your place with a sudden turn of her chin just before the doors opened.

The rumors did not do him justice you thought as he strutted towards you and your family, your breath caught in your throat.

Oikawa Tooru was without a doubt the most beautiful man you ever laid eyes on.

He was beautiful alright.

And with his charming eyes staring straight at your own and his delicate hands placed on his sword, he looked ready to murder.

It might look like a filler episode, but I needed to give background and I love to build anticipation. Sorry not sorry? Reblogs are appreciated! And also this was not edited I posted it right after writing it so if you see any mistake let me know.

Disclaimer:  No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without permission. I do not own the character of Oikawa Tooru. This is a work of fiction.

TAG LIST: Let me know if you want me to tag you.

@triskoof​ @sassyglassesbunny​ @m-a-r-i-a-s-b-l-o-g

[randomingoftherandomness]

Hi! Hope you're doing well. I posted this Booker/Joe/Nicky prompt on the TOG kink meme originally. No one claimed it, so I thought I might try asking you, if that is okay. Here:

"Porn with feelings is one of my favorite things, so: Five Times Joe and Nicky invited Booker into their bed and the one time they told him to stay.

You do not need to be explicit with the smut if you do not want to, although that would be lovely and much appreciated.

Just give me Joe&Nicky and Booker catching feelings throughout centuries worth of hookups while thinking that the other party is only interested in friendship and sex.

Angst With A Happy Ending, please.

Bonus for Bottom!Booker, but it is not a must.

Double Bonus for Exasperated!Andy dropping hints that they are too oblivious to understand."

Thank you for reopening your Ask Box and for considering my prompt. Have a great weekend!

A/N: Hope you’re well too, friend and thank you for the trust in my abilities! 😁 Feel free to consider your prompt filled if you’d like? It’s not as porny or as angsty as I think you were looking for but I hope it still satisfies.

--

one.

“I’m telling you guys,” Andy hisses, fingers digging into the soft dirt under her palms. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“And I’m telling you, Boss. We’ll be fine,” Booker grins sunnily, peering over the ridge to spy the military convoy transporting black-market arms and munitions. At the sight of the gleaming trucks and the stern-faced men with their faces focused on the road, the mischief dims a little.

Joe slaps him in the arm with a warm laugh. “If you get shot in the ass, you’re bunking with me and Nicky tonight. Let Andy have the big bed all to herself.” The man waggles his brows, brown eyes winking in devilish delight. “Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll get front row seats to how Nicky makes love to me.”

Seeing that there were only two tiny Queen sized beds in their latest digs, Booker’s eyes blink in alarm, turning to her as if to ask, you wouldn’t do that to me, would you? He’s been with the family long enough that that was one knowledge he already has a too intimate familiarity with and not one he is keen to revisit.

If his reasoning hides the way his eyes always seek them out in a crowded room, that’s for him to know and only him.

Her only answer is the unsheathing of her hunting knife and the pulling of her scarf over her nose and mouth. “Better watch your ass, kid.”

two.

Nicky’s hand in his is what pulls him out of his thoughts. He must have been staring at the sea for longer than he had thought because stars dance in his eyes and he has to squeeze them shut to block out the sudden spinning of the world around him. 

Slipping away from Nicky’s touch, he sighs as he slowly feels himself come back to his stiff joints and sun-beaten face. He’s lost track of time again.

Booker feels Nicky take a seat on the sand next to him and instinctively looks around for Joe, before raising an inquiring eyebrow at him. “He has run out of his favourite colour again,” Nicky chuckles, kicking out his legs and burying his bare feet in the warm sand. 

“Ah.”

“Ah,” Nicky echoes with a smile. Their sympathies are immediate and resting solely with the poor salesperson who has to deal with Joe’s charm as he convinces them that one brand cannot be a substitute for another. They sit together, watching the tides kissing the shores in companionable silence before Nicky turns onto his side. “Are you okay?”

 Booker considers the question, still keeping his eyes on the way the sunlight dances on the waves. This beach is too warm for this time of the year and the air is the wrong tang of brine. Next to him, in the space where his wife should be with her wild laughter and her windswept hair, is nothing but empty, foot trodden sand. His heart sticks in his throat when he opens his mouth to speak and only the sound of unspeakable grief steals out past his lips. 

When Nicky wraps his arms around him, he doesn’t try to pull away. When he asks if Booker wants to come with him, unmistakeably to bring him to their bed - the one where he and Joe sleep in and not the comfortable guest bed in the spare room - he merely sighs, sinking into the warmth and strength of Nicky’s arms around him, and allows himself to be cared for.

three.

The camaraderie he feels amongst this new family is one he never thought he could have. He appreciates every new memory he builds with them and every new layer of life he lays down even if he cannot help looking behind him and long for what is no longer his.

Friendship and brotherhood are easy to grasp. What confuses him, however, is the way Joe, Nicky, and Booker have somehow developed something more than that. He isn’t unaware of the pleasures that brothers in arms share on a battlefront. Any shred of comfort and warmth to be shared in those moments of relief in finding yourself escaping Death’s embrace is one that was somehow tolerated when he had been conscripted to march for a madman. 

What Joe and Nicky have is more than that, and Booker knows it, is in awe of it, and can hardly stop admiring it. 

What they have in the moments where Nicky’s warm breath tickles against his neck as Joe presses in between his trembling thighs is one he cannot divine.

The easy way they three have fallen into the rhythm of kisses and touches, of shared quiet moments, lulled to sleep with the smell of sex on their skins confuses him and calming heartbeats. How, when he builds his first safehouse, he puts out a room for Andy but leaves the little touches for them in his own. The way he feels no jealousy when they go off on their own and nothing but elation when they fold him into the fabric of their being. And yet.

Yet, when they are together, Booker feels like his heart could stop from the guilty happiness he has coursing through his veins. When he is in the space between wakefulness and sleep held in their arms and sharing their space, it is the calmest, the safest he has ever felt since the day he walked away from Marseille. 

And Booker can’t stop but to wonder. What does it all mean?

four.

Joe stops mid-sentence and it doesn’t go unnoticed. The sounds of the other guests in the hotel percolate into their room and he has to take a moment to look at the bed where just an hour before, they’d languidly been tangled under the covers. They had arrived two days earlier just to take advantage of the privacy of the room and the luxury of a King-sized bed where Joe had pressed kisses into the quivering corner of Nicky’s lips as he tries not to laugh while Booker is playfully nipping at his jaw. 

God, has it just been an hour since he had to wrangle them all into some semblance of order so that Booker can catch Andy before she gets here? 

“What’s wrong?” Nicky asks, clear eyes catching in the light when they gaze at him. His beloved’s hands move methodically as they make the bed. The same sheets that still carried the scent that he is sure now permeate every shared space the three of them occupies on a regular basis. 

A whirlpool of emotions snake around his chest and all he is able to do is to reach out to Nicky; to the anchor in the storms of this strange life they live, to his true North. It speaks to the bond they share that Nicky comes to his side, kissing their clasped hands, patiently waiting for him to speak.

Joe thinks he can burst with all the love he has in him for this man. Then the quiet flicker of his mind to another face, another smile that he holds just as dear and he swallows down the maelstrom of words bubbling up because he knows that whatever he says now matters.

Love is not a finite source. Joe has seen enough and been through just as much to know that that is true not just for himself, but for Nicky too. Smiling at Nicky, he feels his shoulders relax, leaning into him. 

“My love, I think we need to talk.”

five.

“Come here.”

Booker hesitates but Nicky does not allow him any room to escape. Taking him by the wrist, he drags him to the quiet of an out of the way spare room in Copley’s home, eyes cataloguing every scrape, bloodstain, and healed over wounds.   

Sitting him down on the bed, Nicky begins to methodically push his fingers through Booker’s hair, brushing out flecks of dried blood and grime, bits of glass and debris. Neither one speaks for a long moment and the familiar silence is heavy between them. From this room, Nicky can pick out the quiet murmur of Copley and Nile speaking while Andy is being tended to by Joe. This moment won’t last and Nicky has to speak his peace.

“He’s hurt. We both are.”

Booker flinches but Nicky doesn’t allow him to rise from the chair, pressing him back into position, feeling some small relish when Booker obeys. “Why, Booker? Why couldn’t you come to us if you were hurting? Why did you hide from us?”

Blue eyes look away from him and down to where his leg is shaking. 

“Aren’t you going to defend yourself?” Nicky asks finally, softly and feels his heart break a little at all the possibilities that are slipping away with every moment they leave this unresolved. He sighs when Booker doesn’t speak, fingers moving to cup him by the jaw. 

“We love you,” He says. “But maybe that’s not enough just yet.”

“Maybe,” Booker murmurs. Moving to stand only for Nicky to take him by the hand, pulling him in for a kiss. 

“One day it will be.”

and the one.

Joe can smell the sea on Booker from the other side of the room.

Andy had levelled him a heavy look, telling him not to fuck this up with a soft smile on her lips as she leaves with Quynh in the first cab they could hail down. Nile had laughed when they asked if she was staying, telling them that she’ll be in the next city over if they needed her for anything.

Which now leaves Joe, Nicky, and Booker in a small motel room with the dying sunlight stealing through the gaps in the curtains. Nicky’s knee knocks against his and Joe has to sigh. Looking over to Booker, it is clear that the man is in the middle of some fight or flee reaction and he is tamping it down to fidget in the chair by the television set. 

Picking up one of the scratchy towels that came with the room, he tosses it at Booker, jerking his head at the bathroom door.

“Get cleaned up. We can talk after.”

Booker gapes rather unattractively at them and his look of incredulity grows into a frown when Nicky sighs around a snort. Joe can’t help but mirror Nicky’s amusement and feels his lips curl into a smile. Exhaustion clings to the way Booker looks from the towel between his hands and to them at the bed.

Joe feels a swell of affection cut through the need to clear the air before they go any further into this. He won’t make the mistake of not talking this through again. Walking over to him, he nudges Booker to his feet, pulling him into the bathroom. Brushing his thumb in an arc under his tired eyes, Joe says, “Maybe we can leave the talk for after we sleep.”

[virtuouscandlelight]

{ OOC } okay I love how Peter Pan 2003 is a very brilliant clash between Narnia, the original Peter Pan, POTC, and Pan’s Labyrinth — and despite being a children’s movie, still possesses a great deal of dark themes that aren’t really blurred out at all this movie has NO issue involving multiple deaths and now I must ramble since I finished the movie.

— Wendy and Pan reminds me of Elizabeth and Will, they have that intense power couple energy, especially when fighting together. Wendy also taking absolutely no shit and fucking a guy up for calling her girlie. We stan a young queen. She was SMILING when sword fighting the pirates. Young Elizabeth right there.

— Mr.Smee reminds me of Mr.Gibbs. Sweet old men that are the right hand men of the main antagonist. Soft, a lot more caring, but also take no shit when the time is given. Mr.Smee still has his moments. Hook is a cross between Sparrow’s comedic value and Barbossa’s dirty fighting and vocabulary.

— They didn’t make the mermaids all whimsical Ariel like ! They used the more realistic approach and that makes me HAPPY even Pan was like they’ll drown you don’t touch them lmao

— CGI wasn’t too heavily used. One of the biggest issues I have with fantasy movies is the usage of way too much CGI to the point where the acting is almost blurred out. The more CGI, the more you’re paying attention to special effects than the actual plot imo. Not to mention they blended it in so well with the real stage. All the fairy forest scenes and moonlight were so aesthetically pleasing.

— THE FUCKING DIALOGUE. THE QUOTES. Pan is insufferable in the original but he’s at least a bit more tolerable here. He has his serious moments and expresses genuine grief to full on painful screaming that the original lacked severely. He was way too comical and immature in the original for my tastes, I have heavy respect for characters that show you a palette of emotions and hidden emotions and man was this movie a TREAT for letting you see each character go through all sorts of challenges. Pan in denial with his own feelings of love, actually reasoning why he dislikes the thought of growing up, screaming and sobbing over Tinkerbell, euphoria over Wendy. Wendy expressing euphoria toward Neverland { seriously the actress is GORGEOUS. } , her screaming in grief also sounds genuine, the sobbing too, the BADASS bitch attitude. Hook finally getting to express true piracy in action with killing more than six people on screen LMAO, threatening death multiple times verbally and physically, kicking a tied up child over in the head, poisoning Pan { Tinkerbell ends up drinking it and technically dies. OOP }, genuinely intimidating and skilled — but also expressing jealousy and grief over Wendy and Pan being smitten, “ You will die alone and unloved. . . Just like me. “ BRUH, obviously being hinted at that he’s touch starved as all hell and hates any type of love because he severely lacks it. fucking ROLLERCOASTER

— IT’S NOT ALL ROMANCE AYYYYY the plot doesn’t overly romanticize everything and stays true to the theme of the difficulties of growing up and losing that childish magic in your life which is frankly a very common mishap, adults lose their inner child a lot and it’s basically a case of all work and no play makes johnny a dull boy. It’s why Pan hates the thought of aging so badly and mentioned college and offices, it’s a dreary reality if you suffocate that inner child. then it’s just constant work and being a stick in the mud.

— As much as I love original Disney movies I’m gonna have to say this one is ten times more favorable than the original. Solely because they strengthened the dark themes and expression so you can really feel the characters. I love me some romance and happy themes but if there’s no challenge and angst involved then I get bored real quick. That’s also how I prefer to write too — as angst and fluff come hand in hand.

— jason isaacs hook can fuck me up dear god dear lord dear HEAVEN AND HELL AND EARTH NOT EVEN JESUS HIMSELF RESURRECTED COULD STOP ME FROM WANTING TO BE KICKED IN THE TRACHEA BY THIS MAN ALONE

— Pan’s design being Celtic makes my pagan heart swell.

[black-streak]

Waiting For The Worms - The Show Must Go On

Part 4

Sooo, this isn't nearly as dark and has very little angst in comparison to the point I'd almost say it isn't? It's pretty much just an update on life in a way. Which is also part of why it took so long for me to write. Like, the struggle was real. Next chapter will go back to your regularly scheduled heartbreak.

Warnings from chapter 1, while mostly inapplicable for this part, still in effect.

The gallery: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

The next year of Jason's life was hectic to say the least.

It started with the downfall of Lila Rossi. Which consequently, he had no part in. She stepped on the wrong toes, made a few too many contradictions and suddenly a pile of lawsuits were stacked against her. Her mother went completely ape shit on her and pulled her out immediately to be shipped off to a very strict boarding school. More like a juvenile detention center if the rumors were true.

For the first month, no one approached him. The guilty, stricken looks upon his classmates' faces told a million stories of apologetic remorse, but since becoming a jaded, snarky outcast, 'Marinette' was no longer the person you could give a simple apology to and expect forgiveness. And no one wanted to be the first to get shot down.

Eventually, the first apology came. Surprisingly, Alya tried to win his favor. She groveled and apologized up and down on how terrible she and Lila had been and named every reason in the book as to why she had reacted and treated Marinette the way she did in an attempt to explain herself. While it wasn't necessarily surprising that she would be the first to not fear him, it was shocking she saw the error of her ways so soon with all that bull headed ego she carried around.

Bravery got her nowhere, however, as Jason only lifted an eyebrow, arms crossed as he leaned back, and calmly replied.

"Cool story, still betrayal."

As the girl sputtered before him, he turned back towards Chloe, continuing to make their plans for the day. After two minutes had passed and Alya still stood there hunting for her words, he turned back.

"Can you leave? Sometime today would be nice."

And so the precedent was set. While it took another week for someone else to approach, they seemed spurred on by the ease of Alya's dismissal. Suppose they figured if the biggest offender only got mild verbal abuse and dismissal, things had to go more smoothly for them.

Nino came next, awkward shuffling and avoided eye contact included. He pushed through his apology, beating around the bush and trying to defuse the situation at the same time he built it up. It only served to piss Jason off. They deserve better than this. At least meet her eyes if you're going to apologize and expect me to believe it.

"Uh… Marinette? Did you hear me?"

"I'm sorry, were you talking to me? I assumed you were talking to the desk next to me and minded my business. Would hate to be accused of eavesdropping."

He flinched at the reminder and finally looked him in the eye.

"I'm sorry. What we did was wrong. What I did was wrong and I am so beyond sorry for it. There is no excuse for my behavior."

"You're right. There isn't. Do better in the future."

"I will!," he rushed to reassure Jason, voice hopeful, "Does this mean we can be friends again?"

"No. Do better for those who chose to be your friend in the future."

"Oh… okay, yeah, that's fair," Nino gave a downtrodden look and wandered off.

Next came Sabrina and Rose, who didn't so much as apologize to him, but instead tried to reattach themselves to Chloe and Juleka's sides as if nothing had happened at all. This might not have thrown Chloe in the slightest, but poor Juleka looked a moment from having an anxiety attack. Chloe made short work of both girls, dismissing them entirely and when Rose started to cry and stare at Juleka for reassurance that everything was okay, Jason pulled the goth into a hug, glaring at the little blonde girl, until eventually she received the hint and ran off, tears streaming down her face. Apparently Nathaniel gave Marc the same treatment.

Lastly Kim, Alix, Max, Ivan, and Mylene came as a group. They must've taken comfort in their numbers, hoping it would somehow protect them from him singling them out. Thought everything would go smoother that way. He could hear Juleka grumbling at his side where they sat under a tree for lunch. They both appreciated the shade and quiet peace of the place. Marc sat on her other side, writing away in a journal.

"Hey Mari, we wanted to apologize for the way we've been acting lately," Alix took the lead.

"Yeah, it was really uncool of us," Kim followed up, the others nodding along.

They looked imploring. Like they were waiting for some sort of forgiveness. He couldn't help but wonder if they thought their actions were somehow better. That he couldn't really be mad at them because they weren't the ones who lied or lead the pack against his soulmate. They didn't make harsh accusations or physically attack Marinette. So somehow, they were better and their apologies could be less.

How fucking rude. How presumptuous. How entitled to think his time, thoughts, feelings were forfeit in their need for forgiveness. Marinette deserved better in her time here than these heartless bastards. None of them ever defended her either. Or him for that matter. Not one of them tried to so much as change the subject to avoid harping on him. None cared when his soulmate never returned to her body. Maybe that wasn't fair, but at the very least they could've approached him in his grief when it was easily displayed. Everyone here had a soulmate and knew the signs of loss for when one died. Surely they knew that this person in this body lost their other half. And yet not a soul outside of his group had offered condolences.

"That's all you have to offer? That it wasn't cool?" Juleka asked, tone quiet but sharp.

"Well it's not like we-"

"Let me cut you off there, before you piss me off. You didn't personally attack me, you just watched and snickered behind hands. Joined in to the cruel jokes and snide remarks. Encouraged those who did attack. At least they had the decency to be that way to my face and let me know where we stood. You? Hiding behind others actions and grouping up to give half-hearted sorrys that you barely think of before you speak? Now you guys are the ones that truly infuriate me. Either you believed I deserved the treatment I received but refused to be singled out for it. Or you thought what was happening was wrong and were too much of a coward to step up and help me out. I'm not sure which is worse. Either way, I don't want to see a single one of you approach me again. I don't mean enough to you to make a stand? Then you don't mean enough to me to even speak to. Get out of my face."

When his little speech was done and the startled masses ran off with an added glare, protests held on the tip of tongues, Jason slumped back against the tree, taking small comforts in the silent support of his two companions.

Adrien never approached. That was for the best.

His friend group was also something new. Marc, Juleka, Chloe, and Kagami. The group technically leaned more female than anything, but after the heavy masculine energy of his old life, this turn of events felt refreshing. It helped that Marc came out as nonbinary and Jason couldn't help but relate in a way with his view of this body fitting as female, but his mind staying firmly male. Altering his soulmate's body to fit would never happen, but it also didn't match him. 

The group only grew stronger and more resilient after Jason agreed to revealing identities in the team. After the loss of Mari and the stripping of the ring from Adrien, Jason found it necessary to place new permanent holders. With Kagami and Chloe having screwed up their original hero personas, the placement became a challenge. 

He started out with figuring out his new cat. 

Talking it over with Fu and dragging the decision out way longer than it needed to, he eventually convinced the old guardian of Kagami's worth. She took to Plagg with ease, the design of her look altering to match. The suit stayed all black but wasn't leather and had gold detailing. The ears and tail looked more realistic as well. Her hair went pitch black and eyes went to shades of gold. Kagami insisted her new name be Serval.

Next came Chloe who ended up comforting Jason the most through his despair, whether she knew the reason for it or not. Without the bee as an easy go to, he ended up giving her the Dragon. Sure, the mix wasn't the best ever, but it kept her on the offensive side and more active, so it worked the way they needed it to. Her outfit consisted of tight fitted scales in shades of black and blue. Unlike when Kagami used the dragon, her and Longg took more to the shades of blue that came with most weather. Her shock of blonde hair played nicely with the idea of lightening on a stormy day. She went with Nimbus.

Surprisingly, Marc became the next holder. Jason planned on handing off the fox to Juleka, only to realize it wouldn't quite suit the girl. She stayed in the shadows most of the time, yes, but not really by choice. She wanted to be a model and show up in photos more than anything, so it made no sense to stick her with another identity she had to hide in. Add on the fact that she wasn't necessarily the most creative and well, Jason couldn't hand off an illusion piece to her. That's when Marc came into play. The kid had creativity in spades and preferred to avoid the spotlight. Marc and Marinette grew closer with all their time spent in the art room and courtyard together and especially with Nathaniel having ditched them. With Marc starting to build a spot of their own within the group, it only made sense to pair them with the Fox.

Now that he thought about it, the whole team really stuck with black. Marc had a black velvety almost shapeless form, with white tail, ears, sash, gloves, and boots. Their eyes fell white on gray on black and gave off an eerie feel. They choose Jocular for their hero name.

Finally, Jason hunted down the perfect miraculous for Juleka. The mouse. Quiet and unseen, playing in the background until the moment was right. And then she was everywhere, a multitude taking over the scene and overwhelming the enemy in a matter of moments. Perfect for the girl who hid behind her bangs but longed for the spotlight. Mullo played to both halves of her personality. The suit that came with consisted of a deep vivid purple that matched her bangs while detransformed. While in costume, the highlights disappeared and her eyes shined purple as well. The fit was reminiscent of a belted, hooded tunic with black leggings and matching purple booties. She went with Fievel. Turns out Juleka had an interesting favorite childhood movie. Months later, they would find themselves sitting around a tv, watching the old animated musical, but in the beginning, they just took it in stride.

The last major change came in a heavier bond forming amongst his team.

When Jason agreed to reveal identities, if for no other reason than the guilt of already keeping one major secret from the group, things spiced up. For one, Juleka and Marc traded their respective miraculouses back and forth depending on their comfort level for the day. If one felt more ready for the spotlight, they took to the mouse for the battle. If one felt especially creative at the moment, they tagged in for the fox. Of course, they jumped in with whichever they had when an akuma hit while separated, but the switch off seemed to comfort them.

Secondly, Chloe started running more interference to allow them escape time if stuck up in civilian form. Her false bratty attitude and daddy issues came into play here, despite her actual maturity about both. It helped to amp it up from time to time.

Lastly, Kagami and Jason begin to switch on occasion.

Plagg hadn't been outside the ring since Jason removed him from Adrien and Kagami received him. The shock and horror on his face when Tikki told him the reality of their situation broke Jason a little more. The cat insisted on spending more time with Jason after that. His soul resonated better with the ring anyways, so the time spent as the cat holder felt soothing after so long as the ladybug, despite this body feeling more receptive towards Tikki's magic. 

As an added bonus, the two kept the other's costume and attributes such as eyes and hair. Between that and the heavy magical glamour hiding their identities, no one, not even Hawkmoth, knew which one was which until their fighting style came into play at which point, it was too late. Luckily, with the sneaky aspects of the mouse and fox, the other two became quite the ambush as well. Add in Chloe showing up with one of three different powers at any given moment, and Hawkmoth's akumas became easy prey.

By the time the year ran out, their team ran as a well oiled machine. Despite the horrific heartbreak festering in his heart, Jason felt hopeful. Hopeful that they might take down the villain that had taken over his soulmate's life from so young. That this battle at least might end on a happy note. That soon he would be free to seek out justice for Marinette once and for all.

[shewillreadyou]

Becoming: Chapter 8- Cater to you

As always. I hope that you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.

A/N:Settle in for this one. It’s long. Please share, and comment. Let me know what you would like to see happen. Will Liam come through or disappoint her again? Will Raymond lay off?  

Disclaimers: All characters are property of Pixelberry

Warnings: Sexual content. FLUFF, ANGST SMUT

Catch up: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6  Chapter 7

Word Count: 3945

Pairings: Liam Rhys and MC (Karis Vasquez)

Song inspiration: Cater 2 U- Destiny’s Child

Be Kind: Hit the heart button, leave a comment or reblog. It makes a writer so so happy.​ 

In Paris

It’s been a long awkward day and a text message from Liam left her even more deflated. She told him that it was ok, and that she understood but in the back of her mind she wondered if this was only a glimpse of the canceled plans, a portrait of how much of a priority she would be if she became his queen. She started to pour herself a glass of wine to soothe the sting in her heart she felt. She stopped and instead took a long swig directly from the bottle. Then she tucked the entire bottle under her arm and headed back into her room. 

The next few days seemed like a blur. She texted Liam every day but kept things light, knowing that anything more would spill her true feelings onto the surface. Liam called her early Thursday morning. She dared not answer, sending him directly to voicemail secretly hoping it would elicit the same response as it had last week. She also knew that he knew her well enough that he would recognize the disappointment in her voice straight away. 

In Cordonia

Braxton sends a weekly report to Liam concerning Karis’ safety. He has run off a few paparazzi who have taken pictures and noticed one guy following her a few different times, but never close enough to do her harm. Each incident is immediately reported to Liam. Liam was sitting trying to balance a budget following one of his father’s recent hospital stays. After a budget meeting, Liam just can’t seem to figure out the origin of a recurring charge that started the day he came back from Paris the first time after he reconciled with Karis. He confides in Regina who confirms his suspicions.

Meanwhile in Constantine’s office

The phone rings, it’s a phone call he had been expecting.

“Sir, I have the intel on KV, faxing it over now.” The fax comes through and Constantine reads it over. 

Impressive, the orphan daughter of an alcoholic and a junkie, and still manages to get a full academic scholarship. Pre-law major with a minor in political science, she had maintained a 4.0 GPA her entire collegiate career while holding down a job. No criminal record, no parking tickets, a credit score of 815. Currently in Paris on a paid internship at Alaris Avocats. Lives alone. The only company she has entertained since in Paris is Liam, one Mr. Matthew David Carusso, and Raymond C. Perry. 

He tucks the report into a drawer when he hears a knock on his door. 

“Liam, to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Father, I wanted to come to deliver the news in person. The council met while you were in the hospital and voted that due to your health and deteriorating mental capacity you are hereby relieved of your duties as the reigning monarch of Cordonia. You are now just a figurehead until my coronation. I told myself that your mental state must be the reason you are gambling with fate.” 

“Son, I don’t know what you mean?”

“Save it. Let’s make one thing clear dear Father if we have to revisit this conversation it won’t end well. I have finally managed to do an audit for the month of June.”

All the color drained from Constantine’s face. 

“You will pick up the phone this instant and order your man to stand down or you both will face my wrath.”

His face falls. “How did you–”

“The moment I left Paris I put a man on her. I know you don’t know what it means to protect the woman you claim to love. You failed my mother, but you taught me what not to do. Here’s what you fail to realize. I will protect her with my life. Your guy has been made 8 different times. Fortunately for him, he never got within 100 yards of her. My guard has been given an order to end anyone who attempts to harm her. 

Meanwhile Thursday afternoon in Paris

After taking a leisurely stroll alongside the Seine River to clear her mind Karis got a text from Raymond. 

She was just about to respond when there was a knock on the door. She grabbed her piece and headed to the door. When she cracked the door secretly hoping that it was Liam, she was disappointed to find a stranger in a black suit. She takes the safety off the .22 Liam left with her.

“Who sent you?”

When the man spots the gun, he ducks around the corner.

“Whoa, I am sorry if I scared you ma’am. Ms. Vasquez? I have been sent by Prince Liam. Could you put away the gun and come with me?”  

She closed and locked the door and put the gun down in front of her while she called Liam to check the story. 

The phone rang only once before he answers. 

“Hey, angel!”

“Adonis, don’t you hey angel me. Did you send someone to my place to pick me up?”

He laughs, “Yes, and you pulled a gun on him?”

“That’s not funny. I was scared. What is going on? Where is he taking me? What do I need to bring?”

“I’m sorry, your right dear. I definitely didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to surprise you. Just bring you and stop with all the questions, future attorney. Just leave your weapon at home.”

She removed the magazine and placed the gun back in her small safe. She grabbed her purse, locked her place and followed the stranger out to a town car where again she was expecting to see Liam. Alas, the car was empty. He opened the door and when she settled inside, there waiting was champagne, flowers and chocolates.  She smiled as she wondered what Liam could have possibly meant when he said that he wanted to “surprise” her. She knew that if it was anything short of him physically being in her presence she wasn’t interested. 

The car quickly navigated the streets of Paris and before long approached the airport. They pulled onto the tarmac where Karis saw the private jet with the Cordonian seal. She had never seen anything like it before. Her mouth went dry, her pulse raced and her heart felt like it was going to explode in her chest. Did the jet being here mean that Liam was inside? Before she could investigate further the door opened and the driver in the black suit took her hand to help her out of the car. 

“You’ll need to board now, Ms. Vasquez.”

She made her way over to the steps of the private jet, a cocktail of nerves, adrenaline, and excitement course through her body as she ascended the stairs. When she gets to the top, there is a thin blonde who greets her. 

“Lady Karis, on behalf of the captain, and flight crew welcome aboard. I’ll show you to your seat and make sure you have a comfortable flight. We should land in Cordonia in approximately 2 hours and 48 minutes. Please let me know if there is anything that I can do to make your flight more comfortable. 

“I guess I’m going to Cordonia then, huh?”

The flight goes by quickly as Karis reads an ABA journal. She resists the temptation to text Liam and ask more questions. When the plane landed Karis met a handsome older gentleman named Bastien, he was the head of Liam security detail he leads her to a black suv with dark window tents. It looked very similar to the one she spotted in New York the night she met Liam. The door opened and finally, there he was; he looked exhausted. He wore dark shades to hide the dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t shaven. Black slacks and a crisp white dress shirt with the first several buttons undone. Damn, he was sexy. She went to greet him properly but Bastien stopped her. 

In Cordonia

“Not here, Ma’am.” he hastily helped her into the car and they sped off down the Cordonian roads. Liam gave her an apologetic look as he reached across the seat taking her hand. 

“Hey, Angel.” 

“Hey, babe. Are you ok? You look terrible. What is going on?”

“It’s a long story. I’m fine. I will explain it all when we arrive at our destination.”

“Adonis? What is the meaning of all of this? Why couldn’t I hug and kiss you? You don’t have a wife or fiance’ your hiding do you? I told you from the start I don’t like bullshit.”

He smiles. “You definitely went into the right field. You are the only woman in my life. You couldn’t kiss or hug me because the paparazzi were all over the place. I will let them know about you when the time is right. They can wait, but for now, I want you to myself.” He squeezed her hand. 

She raised her eyebrow, “If you say so.”

“Where are we going? I am not dressed to visit a palace and I’m starving.” 

“Then lucky for you, I have all of those things covered.”

Just then they pull into the underground garage of a modern residential building situated on a hill. There are armed guards outside and inside the garage. The driver opens the door for Liam, and he comes around to open the door for Karis. The moment she is on her feet Liam pins her against the side of the vehicle, his lips taking hers in a deep, desperate, longing kiss. She grabbed him by the collar. Her knees buckled and when he finally pulled away they were both breathless. Her eyes widened as she wiped her mouth. 

“What has gotten into you?” She smirked, still catching her breath.

“Welcome to Cordonia,” his deep voice rumbled in her ear. He smiled before taking her hand and leading her past the armed guard who stood at attention, into an elevator. He scanned his thumbprint before pressing a button for the penthouse. Bastien had gone ahead of the couple to apparently make sure it was clear. The elevator beeped and the doors slide open to reveal a modern open concept floor plan with floor to ceiling windows. 

“It’s my apartment. Make yourself at home.” 

Liam leads her through a large bedroom into the closet which is the size of her whole apartment back home. There are mostly men’s clothes and one section with an assortment of women’s clothing.

“Adonis, whose clothes are these?”

“Your’s. Everything here was selected specifically for you. It’s all in your size. You will have several options for the entire weekend. I know that you must be tired after the flight. You will find a basket in the shower with your pear-berry shower gel, scrub, and body butter. There is another basket on the counter top with a new tooth brush and anything else you might need. If there is anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask. Meet me out on the terrace.”

She stands there as tears threaten to spill from her eyes. He snakes his arms around her waist pulling her close. Her back is firmly against his chest. He gently kisses her on the sensitive skin of her neck. 

“Hey, whoa, please don’t cry. I promise to feed you after you shower,” he whispers in her ear. She smiles instead turning to gently slap him on the arm.

“You did all this for me?”

“Of course, I want to give you the world.”

“I don’t need the world, Adonis. I just need you.”

She winds her arms around his neck clasping her hands together. She kisses his lips sweetly. “Come shower with me,” she says against his lips. 

He smiles nervously, “Karis, I–”

She pouts, interrupting, “You don’t want to?”

He chuckles, “I absolutely want to. But it’s not a good idea. Our food will be cold and we have some things that are very important for us to discuss. But, I promise after, we can take as many showers as you want. There’s a tub in there too.”  

“Ok, I’ll be quick.”

He kisses her on the cheek and leaves her to get dressed. When she stepped out of the shower she moisturized and wrapped a towel around her body heading back into the closet. She finds an assortment of lingerie in a gift bag wrapped in tissue paper. She is impressed. There are at least a dozen sets in different styles and colors. She decided on a pair of black lacy panties, a black bra, black shorts and a white blazer. She finished the look with some black and white pumps. She finger combed her hair and put on some lipgloss and headed out to meet Liam. 

Liam stands to receive her and his jaw drops eliciting a blush from Karis. She bites her lip as he pulls out her chair. 

“Karis you look, wow–”

“Thank you. Please, sit down. While I am hungry, I am more eager to chat about what you wanted to discuss.”

He motions for the chef to bring their dinner. When the entrees are uncovered Karis swoons.

“Adonis! Shrimp and grits? You remembered?” Hot tears spill from her eyes. 

“Of course I did. It was the very first meal we ever shared. He reaches across the table and wipes her tears with his thumb.” 

“I’ll get to it. I believe that it will give you a clearer picture of why I had to alter our plans this weekend.”

She starts to eat. “I’m listening.” 

“First, as you know my father is ill. He has spent a great deal of time in the hospital. In turn,  I have had to assume a great deal of his day to day duties. Because of his continued absences, the council had a meeting and has officially removed him as reigning monarch of Cordonia. It has essentially ascended me to the throne as new king of Cordonia. It will be official the night of my coronation. Because of the timeline my coronation has been moved up and the traditional social season won’t happen. I have to choose a fiance by my coronation. You are who I choose. You will always be my choice. Baby, my queen, I need you here with me, by my side.”

Her breath catches at his words. He is going to be the actual king of this beautiful country and he wants her of all people to be his queen.

”I want to be by your side, Adonis. I just have to figure out how to do that without compromising who I am.”

“I’m holding on to that. It’s not a no. I know that you hadn’t made up your mind. But if you decide that this is what you want we would move forward with your citizenship. I know we talked about you needing a house to sponsor you. There will be three houses Domvallier, Ramsford, and Cormery Isle essentially courting you for the opportunity to sponsor you, starting with a welcome ball tomorrow night in the duchy of Domvallier, a brunch on Saturday at Cormery Isle and Saturday night there will be a Beaumont bash.”

Overwhelmed, Karis attempts to change the subject. “Adonis, what about you? You have been talking about me this whole time. You have been working hard, doing your father’s job, you look like you haven’t slept, and planning this weekend for me? Let me just take tonight to take care of you.” 

“I’m listening.” 

She stands moving around the table and kisses him sweetly on his lips before pouring apple juice into his glass. She takes his fork, feeding him forks full of food while he runs his hand up and down her soft bare leg. She noticed the swell in his pants and smirks and shakes her head. 

He smiles seductively. “I have to say that I am thoroughly enjoying being fed by my woman. How else pray tell are you going to take care of me?”

She picks up his glass and places it in his hand. “Drink your apple juice.” 

She grabbed the ceramic dish of apple preserves from the table and saunters back into the apartment, looking over her shoulder at him with hooded eyes.

He stands gulping his apple juice down quickly and followed her inside. She leads him to the bedroom. She grabs his hand and motions for him to sit. 

“I’ll be right back.” She goes into the bathroom and starts a bath, lighting the aromatherapy candles to set the mood. 

She moves back into the bedroom and kneels at Liam’s feet. His expression is unreadable. She unties his shoes and removes them, then his socks rolling them and place them neatly inside his shoe. She stands and bends at the waist making sure he gets a clear view of her cleavage as she removes his cufflinks and begins unbuttoning his shirt. She ran her fingers lightly down his chest before unbuckling his belt and pushing his trousers and boxer briefs to the floor. 

“Karis–”

“Shhhhh,” she interrupts, placing one finger on his lips.

She takes his hand leading him to the bathtub. She turns off the water and invites him to get in. 

“Are you joining me?” he asks. 

She winks and bites her lip, “No, this is about you. Not me.”

She soaks a towel and lathers it up and begins to bathe him. He relaxes under her touch allowing her to take care of him for a change. He was sure that as she toweled his body they would connect. She instructs him to lay across the bed where she begins a full body massage starting with his feet. While she rubs, he groans.

“Tell me, if you had your way, what would this weekend look like?”

She moves to the other foot kneading it with her hands before moving to his calves. His eyes were shut, and a smile crept slowly across his face. Clearly he was enjoying this pampering from the woman he loved.

“In a perfect world, I’d be able to convince you to move here with me when you leave Paris. There are so many reasons that it would be ideal.” 

She takes more oil in her hands and starts to stroke his thighs. 

“I’m listening,” she says. But touching his body the way that she is, backfires and it is turning her on just as much as it seems to be turning him on. She squeezed her thighs together trying to hold off the white hot passion pooling in between them. 

“I spoke with the dean of admissions at Cordonia U and you could still graduate by December if you did your last semester here. It’s a great program and it would be an asset, seeing how you are interested in international law.”

“I’m not convinced, but I’ll consider it,” she said as she straddled him and rubbed up and down his abs and pecs. 

His hands move to her waist, “Karis, I really want to talk more, but I can’t concentrate with you being this close to me, touching me like this,” he growls as his hand slowly starts roaming up her side. She moves his hands and rolls off of him. 

“I didn’t tell you to touch me your highness,” she smiled. 

“Please.”

“Hands behind your head.” she said in a quiet voice. 

He complied. She straddles him again and rubs oil on to his bald head as she kisses him. Their tongues tangle for a few moments before Karis moves down to nip as his neck and shoulders. 

“Mmmmmmm, angel.”

She takes some of the apple preserves leaving a trail of it down his torso. She then takes her tongue swirling it around his nipple, before she places hot open mouth kisses down his torso licking the apple preserves. His length is so stiff he looks like a sundial. She bites her lips, her eyes dancing. 

“See something you like my queen?”

“Oh, you have no idea…”

She crooks her finger beckoning him closer. He grinned as he rose from the bed. She backed him into the wall, hands gripping his thighs. He goes to tangle his hands in her hair. 

“Hands behind your head, Adonis. Let me take care of you.” He huffs, but complies. She takes her hand and with her thumb smears the bead of pre cum over his tip. She licks him from base to tip before taking the head in her mouth. Liam’s head falls back in ecstasy. She twirls her tongue around the tip while pumping the shaft with her hand. As she bobs on his length taking more and more with each movement. 

“God, you’re an angel. Your mouth is heaven, my queen.” 

She looks up at him and leans in making him completely disappear into her mouth. She can feel him throb and twitch and knows he won’t last long. She doubled her effort as she massaged his balls. It was enough to send him over the edge, and he exploded in her mouth. She stood licking the spillage from her lips and then swallowing while gazing into Liam’s eyes. He collapses on the bed.  

“That was insane.”

She blushes, “well I am clearly crazy over you.” 

He laughs.

“I know, that was cheesy.” She pops the button on her blazer letting it fall off her shoulder. 

His breath visibly catches in his throat. “Karis you’re resplendent.”

She shimmies out of her shorts and panties. 

“Keep the heels on.” Liam says as he sits up on the edge of the bed. 

Karis slowly sways her hips over to Liam straddling his lap taking his lips in a hungry kiss. His strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her in close, his bare chest against hers. He breaks the kiss.

“I need to taste you.” he says in a deep baritone voice that vibrates her chest. 

She pushes him back onto the bed and straddles his face steadying herself with her palms on his chest. His large hands palm her backside guiding her as she rolls her hips on his tongue. 

“So wet and sweet,” his muffled words send electric pleasure currents through her body as he continues to use his tongue with precision. He inserts a crooked finger in search of her g-spot. He alternates from licking to sucking her swollen clit as she moans his name. “Oh, Adonis!!!”

“Let me hear you, my queen.”

His words are enough to make her come undone. Her thighs clench on his head and he continues to flick his tongue as she creams in his mouth. 

He flips her over, pinning her ankles above her head. “Your legs go on for days in these heels,” he says. Her only response was a smile as she was still catching her breath. Her sensitive clit still throbbing, Liam plunges easily deep inside of her tight center and she howls. 

“How does it feel?” he asks as their bodies slap together, sounding like a slow clap at first.

“Adonis, you are incredible, but I want to be on top.”

He gathers her in his arms and flips her on top without breaking their connection, “as my queen wishes.”

He takes her breast in his mouth as she plunges down on his length. Her pace picks up and he lets out a primal roar meeting her rhythm. “Yes, my king! Give it to me.”

He rolled his hips and tugged her hair. Her body spasmed and tears flowed from her eyes. Watching her orgasm is one of the most beautiful things he has ever seen. The combination of her moans, the grind of her hips and the clinching of her center around his length was enough for him to join her over the edge. He pulls her onto his chest and just as they both begin to fall into an easy slumber, there is a knock on the door. Liam slips out of bed and into his boxers before cracking the door. 

“Sir, it’s your father. I need you to come with me.”

Tagging:

@txemrn​​

@pixie88​​

@khoicesbyk​​

@blackkingliamstan​​

@mom2000aggie​​

@shannonwrote​​

@shanzay44​​

@bbrandy2002​​

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@hopelessromanticmonie​​

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@fanjessfic​​

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@dcbbw​​

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@lucy-268​​

@choiceslady​​

@twinkleallnight​​

@blackkingliamstan​​

@bebepac​​

@shanzay44​​

@mainstreetreader​​

@romereadingshop​​

@romewritingshop​​

@lem-20​​

@texaskitten30​​

@maurine07​​

@queenjilian​​

@secretaryunpaid​​

[carnal-agony]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔬𝔡𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔲𝔠𝔠𝔲𝔟𝔦, 𝔄𝔯𝔞𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔗𝔲𝔧𝔄𝔯𝔞

"𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚖, 𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚜, 𝙱𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚀𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐."

In light of my blog being revamped officially I am creating a Muse sheet for all of my mutual followers and silent worshipers. I won’t be going into immense detail about my Muse’s past/creation as I have had multiple threads that dissected every ounce of it including a few AU’s where her history was either less enticing or she was mortal. Stick around until the end for a special ‘shout-out’ for my partners who have helped shape my blog in one way or many. 

Bɾιҽϝ Hιʂƚσɾყ

Aramath and TüjArä are one of the same, they share a body, heart, and mind but not a soul. The Queen was not always split between good and evil, however, she was created as one being- a part from each Ancient that attended her Creation. With her being ‘born’ the mortal world was introduced to the power and weakness of Lust, the Goddess of Succubi, TüjArä. Although in the beginning of her history she was a cruel ruler who only wished for her children to divulge in the tasteful wants of the lesser species as well as going on massacres by their mother’s word.

Her world changed when the Goddess found what was at the root of all her lust- that being love. Don’t start smiling now, this isn’t a typical love story, matter of fact I wouldn’t consider it a love story at all. TüjArä fell in love with a viking and bared a half mortal child with this man- against every ruling of the Ancients that stated it was forbidden for a woman of pure lust to pursue. Knowing this, TüjArä stepped from her throne and above into the mortal world, hiding from those who wished to put her back into place. For six years she lived with those she loved, learning what it meant to have humility and compassion as a mortal would.

Aρρҽαɾαɳƈҽ; Vαɾιαɳƚʂ

In the original story I write Aramath rocks a crimson hairstyle, usually quite lengthy and wavy in previous cycles that was her iconic look. However after a long debate I had wrote her into isolation from those she learned to care for and in this she became immensely ill- the red of her hair fading until it became a ghastly platinum. It is very important to note that the original Aramath and the current one I am writing for both possess their own personality differences as well as differing internal conflict with TüjArä. 

Her body is covered head to toe in an array of stories about her existence as well as other oddities that come alive upon the command of her Oracle. Aramath is usually seen in black leather of all sorts, her style has toned down over the years but she is a rocker at heart, which is seen in various band tees and skull based clothing and jewelry. A few things stay the same however- the rings she wears each possess their own special abilities, ranging from her own internal power to the unique array of her kind, Oracle, and lovers. 

Wԋαƚ Gɾιɳԃʂ Hҽɾ Gҽαɾʂ

Aramath is a very tedious creature to write for, she is hot headed yet well tempered, childish at heart yet cold and stern mentally, and while she does not wish to end humanity anymore- that does not mean she is in love with humans. Most she can barely stand so she approaches with a bitter tongue and sharp wit, however when a very special few come to make her acquaintance they are met with soft smiles and the exposure of what a monster looks like when they are tamed. Humans are meat sacks to her, ones that have ruined the Earth they all inhabit due to their selfish ways and this mindset finds her at crossroads- she wishes to rid Mother Earth of the plaque that is humanity but that seems like a waste of good talent. Isn’t that a blessing in itself? 

Creatures on the other hand; God or grunt they always amuse Aramath as she sees them full of themselves- no exclusion to her dear friends either. Being around for most species creation has come with clear visions of what the creatures are, humanized or not they all have a sense of higher being in this world dominated by meat sacks. However depending on your class and how you act, Aramath might just consider you something worthy.

Wԋαƚ Tσ Exρҽƈƚ

Well for starters, expect the unexpected my dear children of the night. Aramath as tamed as she is has a thirst for violence and agony, it gives her a sense of life just seeing the simple fear of women when she snatches the attention of their partners. Although she tends to keep the violence to more of a sexual nature she isn’t hesitant to rip off a man’s crotch or sew a demon’s lips shut, all while taking her sweet time. Don’t be mistaken just because she is a succubus that she will sleep with anyone- that is far, far from the truth.

Aramath does not ‘sleep around’, she goes through a very emotional process to choose who enters her bed. This isn’t just for the sake of morality however, to take a succubus use to be a very primal and romantic thing as their kind does not necessarily need to lay with someone to feed. Those who are chosen as special tend to experience hallucinations, feelings of true ecstasy, and in some cases Aramath shares her life experiences with them through touch. With this being said, it is important to understand pushing yourself upon this Goddess- will end with your head mantled on her fireplace. You’ve been warned.

EʂƚαႦʅιʂԋҽԃ Rҽʅαƚισɳʂԋιρʂ; Tԋҽ Mυʅƚιʋҽɾʂҽ

Through the years I have been writing Aramath one thing is clear, once you have a place in her heart you will forever have that spot. This is no different for myself as I wouldn’t have lore if it weren’t for those who helped grow with me. These characters may be an OC or in their own universe- either way they are all loved equally. Here are a few of the characters I most frequently interact and/or click with during threads, some Aramath is very possessive over and others she views as equals. Please do not be discouraged if your muse is not on this list, it does not mean I love you any less my dears.

Henry Pearl, Sunset Peach, the Oracle of the Goddess.

@henry-pearl-battlecreek​

Roman Godfrey, a White Tower Dragon in Prince skin.

Eddie Brock, Snarky Reporter, Kingsman In Training.

@venom-inside-you​

Venom, Parasitic Terrestrial, Unknown Limits, Enjoys Flesh.

Pan, Horseman of Death, Man of Knowledge.

@thedarklibraryworld​

Michael Langdon, Son of Satan, Your Dark Lord, Puppeteer of the Apocalypse.

Jerome and Jeremiah Valeska, A Pair of Laughs, Equally Charismatic and Deadly.

Kai Anderson, Terrifying Candidate, Godlike Ego, Could Make Me Drink the Kool-Aid.

Iɳƚҽɳƚισɳʂ

If you want angst, joy, or death Aramath is the girl to go with. She is very versatile in every aspect that I write her, if you wish to have a particular plot please invade my inbox so we can discuss what you’d like. If not, I frequently post open threads with an already settled plot, starter calls, and interactive dialogues. Never be afraid to send a meme or random prompts into my inbox, I love interacting with my followers! 

Mυɳɳҽԃ

Now as we get to the end of this long, long sheet I just want to take a moment and say a few things as a Mun. I- am so terrible about timely responses, between working, streaming, and studying for my degree I do not find a lot of time for my writing passion. However, if you bare with me through the odd times of night when my responses flow I promise you we will have amazing threads together. Now that you know a little about my existence let’s get my blog rules out of the way;

ℝ𝕌𝕃𝔼𝕊

No persons under the age of 18 allowed- period. This blog has intense scenes and NSFW threads, I will not be held responsible for the corruption of children so turn away now or blocking will occur.

As much as I preach love and acceptance, absolutely NO threads will occur with me that involve animals or characters under the age of 18. I do not condone the act of pretending to be an underage child, nor will I bring children in as extras to my thread. 

Unless your character is an actual God of some sort, do not attempt to God-mod our threads, I will not allow it to happen and it will terminated immediately. Clarification: Yes you can toss my Muse, but no you cannot kill them (unless discussed or of course- you’re Pennywise.)

Sexual themed threads must be discussed with Mun prior to the beginning of it, if not my character will act as normal- and your muse will lose a hand or two. Discussing is a key point when it comes to certain topics in writing, and as everyone says, Consent is Key.

Remember, we’re all here to enjoy ourselves with our characters, even if the thread is violent and hateful please remember. I am not my Muse and my Muse is not me, you are allowed to spit and curse them but do not dare step past that line and spew venom at me. I have a zero tolerance for drama, hate, or sheer stupidity. 

Fιɳαʅ Cσɱɱҽɳƚʂ

Well my loves we’re at the end, it is time to say my final goodbyes as I finish off this sheet on a good note. I will always be open to new partners, new ideas, new universes so please again- never feel scared to shoot me random things. With this revamp I am turning my engines over and putting the pedal to the metal- and it’s only just beginning. With all love, and secret lust- Shalom and Blessed Be.

{Will be updating frequently throughout these next few weeks, stay tuned!}

[occasionalfics]

after the end

main masterlist | thor masterlist | taglist | ko-fi | ao3

For: Me because I was not pleased with the treatment of My Boy™ in Endgame. So I decided to give him a story I did like.

Pairing: Fat!Thor x Asgardian!Reader

A/N: My Fat Boy™ deserved so much better. So I’m giving it to him. All the love. Also I’ve been working on this since I saw Endgame and that was like...two months ago? I’m only a little sorry I took so long. This became a lot more than it was originally meant to be.

Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT (just one section, but still), NSFW/18+ CONTENT AHEAD. Also a healthy helping of angst and depression. But also. Fluff. This is me we’re talking about. Hi, welcome if you’re new. This warning is indicative of everything I write.

Words: 9,502

The thing about rebuilding a civilization with less than half the population is that no one feels as though they can grieve what they’ve lost because everyone is grieving. No one speaks of the dead - a very un-Asgardian thing to do - and no one speaks to the King.

New Asgard is a very different place from the one in which you grew up. You know why - you blame no one person save Thanos for that, but even he is not the only one to blame. Hela had a part in this, too. No one blames the King except for the King himself.

That’s not made clear to you until the Valkyrie approaches you, about a year into the new settlement. She asks what your position in Asgard had been because you work much more slowly than the other women.

“I was one of Queen Frigga’s Ladies,” you tell her. But Queen Frigga died before the Convergence, and that was almost a decade ago. “And, in her absence, Loki kept me in the palace as a maid.”

The Valkyrie nods. “And you...liked that lifestyle?”

You shrug as a horn blasts from out on the ocean. The briny smell of the water fills the small town, permeating every sweater and pair of jeans you now own. “It was a living.”

The Valkyrie turns to a wooden shack, high on the hill behind town. The King’s shack. The place he’s hidden himself away with only the company of the rock fellow and the smaller, jelly-looking friend. Somehow, even the Valkyrie has not been to the shack often, though that may have much more to do with her work than her relation to the King.

She asks if you’d like to resume your old position. She must know, as everyone does, that some semblance of normalcy is imperative to the survival of whoever is left.

The thought of being in a palace makes you almost swoon, until you remember that there is no palace. There is no place for the King to be above all others, except that his shack is higher than the rest of the town. He has insisted on being seen as the same as all others, that there are no true Kings on Midgard anymore, and he intends to not uproot the common traditions of the place they now all occupy.

So why, then, would his advisor ask you to be his maid?

Still, you accept. It is familiar to serve the royal family, no matter what form it’s taken. It’s a kindness on the part of the Valkyrie to seek you out for this honor.

At least, you think so until you are brought into the shack.

It wreaks of spoiled food and days-old warm mead. Sweaters and hats, boxes and crates are all piled in the narrow walkways. There’s shouting from another room. The Valkyrie just brings you through it all into a den, where the rock and the squishy one are playing a game on the television. The King sits in a rocking chair in the corner, nodding mindlessly as he grips an aluminium can in one hand. He’s bare on top, soft and round where you know he was once hard and sculpted. The dark, unflattering pants he wears do nothing to hide the sadness he must be feeling.

The Valkyrie explains the situation; that you’re staying to clean up, that the King has very little say in the matter, and that he should at least be nice to you. You’re doing him a favor.

You bow when she leaves because the King stares at you.

“I recognize you,” he says, his words soft on their edges, like his body is.

“I was one of your mother’s ladies, your Majesty.” You stand straight as the rock man yells out at something on the television.

The King lingers on you for a second, then turns to the game. He doesn’t look back.

You get to work.

--

Weeks go by. You silently work, scrubbing floors when no one is in a room, doing laundry whenever it piles up, cleaning dishes three times a day. The King grows softer and rounder, quieter than you remember him ever having been. Korg, the rock man, and Miek, the squishy one, try to get him to engage in their game playing, but mostly, he sleeps, drinks, eats, and repeats.

You try not to show how much you pity him. But you plan what you’ll say, should he notice.

You do not pity him for his physical state. Everyone in New Asgard has changed physically - most have grown softer than they were. The Mighty Volstaag, were he still alive, might be proud.

You are sad for the King because, clearly, he feels a heavy failure weighing him down. There is guilt that lines his face. Darkness in the one natural eye of his and the quiet he keeps when he looks out the window beside his rocking chair.

But he never really notices you. Most days, he sits and drinks and eats and sleeps while you clean, and then you leave for the night before starting over again the next morning.

--

On a morning about two months in, the King sends Korg and Miek into the nearest town with the Valkyrie. You’re not sure how he’s going to disguise them, since you’re sure the Midgardians won’t appreciate their alien appearances, but the King insists disguises aren’t necessary.

Once they’re gone, you’re alone with the King for the first time.

His hair is dirty and mangled. His beard is unkempt, too long, unbraided. His fingernails look as if he hasn’t washed his hands in weeks. And yet, he simply sits in his rocking chair and stares out the window, watching small boats as they pass through the harbor below.

You throw away a third pizza box, and when you come back into the room, he actually turns and notices you.

“Do you like it here?” he asks.

You stand a little taller, just like you would if his mother had asked you a question. “Yes, your Majesty,” you respond, tipping your head down.

He sighs, traps his lips behind a hand. Then he asks, “What’s your name?”

When you tell him, he nods.

“Well, (Y/N). Please call me Thor. I’m…”

You wait for him to finish, but he doesn’t. Eventually, he turns back to the window and goes into a world where you no longer exist once more.

--

Sometime the next week, you bring in groceries. Fish from the market, vegetables from your own garden. Korg and Miek don’t notice, but Thor does.

He only says anything about it while you cook. “What’re you doing?” he asks.

You don’t even look at him. “When your mother was sick, on the rare occasion that happened, I would cook for her,” you tell him. As you stir a pan of peppers, you smile softly to yourself. “Some of the vegetables in my garden were ready to be picked, so I thought I’d prepare dinner.”

“But that’s not part of your duties,” he says.

You shrug, purposefully ignoring the fact that no one had ever given you a strict set of duties to look after. “I don’t mind.”

The only sound for some time is the oil frying vegetables and fish. And the little tune you hum to yourself as you go, but you hardly register it at all.

Thor does, though. He sits at his unused kitchen table and watches you carefully, wondering what in the world could make you want to cook for him. You’ve seen the things he heats. You’ve seen how he’s been eating, and how he’s left his waste to rot.

He’s embarrassed. He sits back in the chair, which creaks beneath him, and immediately tenses.

But you don’t notice. You’re in your own little world, chopping and preparing and plating everything in due time. It’s nice to make something for once, rather than just clean up clutter.

You turn to the small kitchen table and stop short. Thor is still sitting there, looking right at you. It’s hard to tell if his gaze is as empty as you think it is - there’s something in the way his eyes drift from yours that signifies guilt or shame.

But you smile. You bring two plates to the table, put one in front of him and another across from him, then turn to find silverware.

He only has plastic forks in a box beside the sink. It’ll do, for now.

“I made enough for your guests,” you tell him. “Do Kronans eat fish?” You laugh to yourself at the thought, returning to the table with one of the forks outstretched to Thor.

He takes it gently. Shrugs. “I haven’t seen him eat much, actually,” he says, his tone a little...lost, if you had to guess.

It barely crosses your mind that he might be put-off by you joining him at his table. You, a Lady in Waiting, nothing more than a fancy servant, sitting with anyone in the Royal family outside of your direct charge.

Only he is your charge now. And...you’re both well aware of how easily the standards of Old Asgard’s society have been broken since Ragnarok.

Still, he doesn’t eat at first. He just watches you, and you pretend not to notice. You nod after your first bite, then raise a napkin to your lips before you’re comfortable telling him, “Tastes quite good, if I do say so myself.”

That earns you the tiniest smile you’ve ever seen from Thor, but at least it’s something.

He digs into the food after you’ve gone back in.

--

Cooking becomes a weekly occurrence. Once a week, you bring whatever vegetables you’ve got that are ready to eat and whatever meat or fish you’re able to get in the market and make a nice lunch. You always make enough for Miek and Korg, too, but they never join you and Thor, so he keeps all of the leftovers for the rest of the week.

He seems to genuinely enjoy the food you make. You don’t know if it’s actually that good, or if it’s...because you are cooking for him.

But you don’t let that idea flatter you too much. Thor doesn’t talk about himself much, so you really don’t know him as well as you might think.

Every day, you realize there’s less and less clutter for you to straighten. On the one hand, you’re pleased to see that the Valkyrie’s worries are being taken care of. But on the other...you very much like this position you’ve been given.

It only takes a few days for you to realize it’s because you like being around Thor. You tell yourself that’s due to the fact that it’s an honor to care for a member of the Royal family, but another few days go by and you know that’s not true.

He still isn’t the Prince you remember. He might never be that person again, and you think you’re the only person that feels that way. Maybe the Valkyrie does, too, but you haven’t really spoken to her since she asked you to take this job.

She’s busy leading the people that search for a leader. You’re tending to the man who inherited that position but doesn’t want it.

--

One morning, you start your day with a load of laundry. There might be electricity and wireless internet and cable television in New Asgard, but everyone was already used to doing laundry by hand anyway, so very few people opted for automatic machines in their homes. Thor was one of those.

You bring out his laundry into the backyard and fill a wide metal bucket with water and soap. You go to separate the different pairs of sweatpants and large jackets and jumpers when you notice something.

In the distance is a man. He stands facing a line of trees that border a forest. There’s one trail in and out of that patch of trees, but this man isn’t anywhere near it. He just...looks in, head bowed, feet slightly apart. The wind shakes the long tendrils of his light hair, and you realize that the man is Thor.

Before you know you’re doing it, you head off in his direction, laundry all but forgotten. The briny smell of the water reaches even this far into town, follows you up the hill to the edge of trees. Your sweater is soft and warm, which you’re grateful for as the wind picks up again.

Neither of you say anything at first. You approach him, gaze into the forest, and wonder what, exactly, he’s looking for. You think, maybe, you see a rabbit hop along somewhere, but there’s nothing else. Just darkness and trees and...wind.

“Is everything alright, your-” You clear your throat. “Thor?”

Looking up at him, you can tell he’s been crying - his eyes are rimmed with red and streaks of shiny liquid are left running down his cheeks. You don’t say anything about it, though. You let him have that.

And you let him have the silence. Clearly, he wants it. You don’t know how long it goes on, or for how long you look at him. You just do. And it’s odd that he doesn’t shy away, doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s being looked at. You’re so used to him turning away, but you hadn’t even realized it until now.

The silence stretches for so long that you start to worry if he’s been bewitched. Magic is hard to come by these days, but still, you know it’s possible.

Then he finally sighs and turns your way. “Thought I saw a ghost, is all,” he says. He tries to smile. Really, truly tries. But it falters immediately, and the stringy, oily strands of his hair fall forward and remind you that you’re here to do a job.

--

“What’s this?” he asks when you bring him a tiny, dainty little hand picked bouquet of wildflowers. It’s really nothing special, but it is a splash of color in his otherwise dark shack.

You shrug. “I’ve been coming here for a year,” you tell him.

“So you’re giving me flowers?”

You hold them out to him, shaking your hand to emphasize that he should take them. The smile on your face is true - you’re happy to give him something that might make his day. This anniversary may not be anything huge, but it’s still something to celebrate, in your own humble opinion.

“I-” he starts. He sighs, takes the flowers, and doesn’t look back up at you again. “I don’t have anything for you.”

You know he can see your shrug even if he stares at the flowers. “That’s alright,” you say. “I just wanted to do something nice, that might bring good tidings to a day like this.”

He sits with that for a bit. You almost turn away to get ready and start on chores, but he finally sits up a little at just the right time. He clears his throat, runs his fingers over the flowers, and nods.

“Thank you,” he gets out.

You nod. It’s enough.

--

A few days later, the shack is spotless. Not a cup out of place, not a dust mite to be found. Korg and Miek aren’t even around, either. The television is off, but soft music is playing from somewhere inside.

You find Thor in the kitchen. He has a contraption he’s told you is called a boombox nestled onto the spice rack by the stove; the music is flowing from it, and Thor is tapping along to it. Not dancing, not even really moving in time with its rhythm. The toes of one foot, which are covered in athletic sneakers for once, tap just out of sync, and every few beats, he taps the spatula in his hand against the rim of the pan below it.

“You’re cooking?” you ask, hanging your sweater up on the hook by the doorway.

Thor looks over his shoulder and nods. “Just wanted to do something nice, that might bring good tidings to the day.”

You pause and admit to yourself that whatever he’s got going does smell wonderful. And his smile seems genuine - it’s larger than most of the ones he’s sent your way since you’d started working around him, and it fills  you with a certain kind of comfortable warmth you can’t put a name to.

And he’s returning your gesture from the other day.

You know he’s not a selfish person - you saw what being banished to Midgard that first time had done to him. You know this isn’t a gesture meant just to make himself feel better.

Which means, since you’re the only other person around, he’s doing this for you, too.

All he lets you do is set the table, but then he insists you sit and wait. And honestly, what else is there for you to do? He’s kept the place clean all night, even going so far as to put his clothes away in a place you can’t immediately see. Whether or not they’re folded correctly is another story, but apparently, you can’t worry about that right now.

He brings the food over when it’s ready, scooping out a hunk of whatever he’s made straight from the pan to put on your plate. He puts some on his plate, too, then returns to the stove for the side dishes.

“Where’d you learn to do all this?” you ask when he settles in across the table from you. He’s even put a pitcher of water on the table, so you pour out two glasses before digging in.

Thor shrugs. “A friend sent an electronic letter with a recipe. Anything I didn’t know about, another friend named Google helped me figure out.”

You laugh lightly at that, but almost immediately after, your attention is taken by the rather exquisite flavors that surprise your tongue. You can’t not moan as you chew, and Thor can’t help but laugh back at you.

“I take it you like the chicken?” he asks.

You nod. “This is so good!”

At that, he lights up. You’ve been subtly trying to get him to smile for almost a year, and this is what works?

It makes sense, though. You know that his sadness was caused by his failure to keep the remaining Asgardians together. Whatever happened while the Valkyrie was keeping you safe had sent him into a spiral.

So the fact that praise over something as simple as lunch makes him happy shouldn’t surprise you.

You finish chewing, then reach across the table and take his large hand in one of yours. He’s warm, and he freezes the second your skin touches. “Thank you,” you say. “This is...a lovely surprise.”

--

He never tells you when he’s heading toward the forest’s edge, but when you see him go, you go with him. You don’t like him chasing after ghosts on his own.

Why you’re so protective, you don’t dare analyze. You simply go after him, stand in silence for a while, then slowly reach out to hold his hand.

And he lets you. Most of the time. When he doesn’t, you respect his space, but you don’t leave him.

One night, right before you’re about to leave him, he calls you back into the living room. Korg carried Miek off half an hour ago, so you quickly wonder if Thor just doesn’t want to be alone tonight.

He looks right at you when you come back into the room. “Why do you go out to the trees with me every time?” he asks, dark circles taking up space beneath his eyes again. That’s how you know this week isn’t one of his better ones.

“I don’t like the idea of you being so alone,” you tell him honestly. “We’ve all got people haunting us these days.”

Thor doesn’t respond. You take one step closer to his chair, his eyes never leaving yours.

“My father was the only member of my family left when we boarded that ship. He didn’t make it to the escape pods when Thanos found us.” And just so that Thor knows you aren’t telling him to blame him, because genuinely, you don’t, you reach for his wrist.

He doesn’t pull away.

“I see him sometimes, mostly when I sleep. And now I know I’m not alone in that struggle.” You squeeze his wrist, then let go.

And he lets you.

--

You find that touch is sacred to him. He only lets you close enough to touch when he is at his best, or when he desperately needs to remember that he is still a being that feels.

You start staying later into the night. Thor walks you home when you stay too late, because he has no room for you in his shack. Not really.

It’s comforting to know that, through it all, he’s still a gentleman. His mother would be proud.

But one night, after he’s sent his friends home for the night, he sits on the floor of the living room and turns off the game. He puts on a movie, the one about the young girl lost in a foreign land after a tornado blows her house into another dimension. Just as the small people begin singing to her, he looks at you from over his shoulder as you come in from the kitchen.

“Would you mind braiding my hair?” he asks.

He washed yesterday. The strands are clean and long and begging to have fingers running through them.

You nod and smile, coming to kneel behind him. You notice a small container beside him; he takes the top off to reveal tons of tiny plastic hair ties.

He’d been planning on asking you to do this. You don’t know for how long, but that doesn’t matter.

Your smile grows, as does the warm feeling in your chest. A feeling which, after Thanos, you had thought you’d never feel again.

You section off thin strands on the left side of his head, gathering a few extra sections for the first few crosses. His hair is long enough that, when the braid is complete, it reaches to the center of the back of his head. You tie that one off, then do the same from the right side, fastening them together in the back in one braided tail.

You’ve missed this. Frigga had you do her hair all the time - she, much like her son, loved having her hair touched. She might never say so, as it wasn’t quite dignified for a Queen to be so frank.

Thor is not like that, though. He lets out sighs throughout, even a little groan once in a while. And when you finish the two braids, he gasps before reaching up to feel them for himself.

“I can do more,” you tell him, one hand on his shoulder.

He takes a second, then chuckles. “Only if you don’t mind.”

--

The first time you stay over, it’s by accident.

You’re used to watching Miek and Korg go home before you now, so you settle on the couch and pull one of Thor’s many blankets around your shoulders as he finds a program on television to watch.

Instead of sitting in his rocking chair, he joins you on the couch.

You feel brave enough to scoot closer to him. He looks down at you and smiles encouragingly. His arm goes across the blanket over your shoulders, holding you to his side as if you’ve known one another intimately all your lives.

It’s getting cold outside again. You think that, perhaps, he’s being nice and helping you keep warm.

But you’ve watched a few movies the humans call RomComs. You know this move. If he says anything about the weather, it’s just a cover. You know Thor, and you know that, if he didn’t want to be holding you like this, he wouldn’t be.

He doesn’t say anything for a while. He seems content, for once. You definitely know the feeling. Between his warmth and the comedy he’s put on, you feel...right at home.

You’re so comfortable that you fall asleep right there, tucked up against Thor’s side. He doesn’t wake you to take you home; when he’s ready to head to bed, he gently maneuvers so you lay out across the couch, then he finds three more blankets to place over you.

--

The Valkyrie drags Thor into the nearest town a few times a year. You start going with them the closer to Thor you get. You barely even spare a thought for his wanting you to be there with him.

The situation is complicated, you admit, and only getting more so as time goes on.

The fact that he asked you to come along to town, and then spent most of the day holding your hand and showing you places he likes and foods he loves… It makes you so, so happy. To see him happy, enjoying this new life, really (maybe) understanding that, though the reasons for building New Asgard aren’t the happiest, everyone’s been given a second chance at life.

Those things make your job complicated, at least in title. But when Thor smiles at you, you easily forget all about anything that isn’t directly related to him.

Even the Valkyrie, who watches the two of you closely all day.

Thor steps into a butcher’s shop at the end of the day. You and the Valkyrie stay by the truck she drives now. She puts her hands in her jacket pockets and raises her brows.

“I see you’ve gotten close to the King,” she says. Her tone isn’t accusatory or jealous, you note, but...protective is a good word. Curious is another.

You feel your face heat. “I care very much for him,” you tell her, only realizing after that you’ve said much more than you meant to. Not that you don’t feel as many things as that response leads one to think - you do - just that… It’s really the first time you’ve mentioned, to anyone, that you hold Thor very close to your heart.

She studies you for a moment, but eventually, her mouth turns up into a small smirk. “He seems happy. You do, too.”

You can’t stop smiling, even as your eyes divert to your feet.

“Hey,” she says, nudging you with one of her elbows. “Own it. Let him know. Clearly, it’s already working.”

“Working?” you ask, looking up again.

She nods. “It was time someone around us got to be happy. Really happy. Keep it up.”

--

When warmer weather settles in, Thor decides to rent a boat. He takes you and the Valkyrie into town so you can buy what the humans call “bathing suits,” which turn out to be tiny pieces of fabric that cover only extremities, meant for swimming rather than bathing. The name confuses you, but the Valkyrie helps you pick something out before it’s time to head back to New Asgard.

You make sandwiches. The Valkyrie brings booze. Good stuff, she says. Thor reads up on how to operate a motorboat.

And then, at midday, the three of you board the small speedboat and head out into the ocean. You’ve picked one of the sunniest days of the year, so the Valkyrie rubs a lotion into your skin that’s supposed to protect you from the sun’s rays.

You question whether or not it’s actually a potion, but she insists it’s not. “No magical properties whatsoever,” she says. “Just science.”

Earth rules are bizarre, but you just accept it and offer to help Thor out with the lotion, too. He hesitates, but eventually nods and removes his shirt.

For the first time in a long time, you’re reminded that he’s not as he used to be. That his soft body, the belly he carries in front of him now, it’s all new to him.

All you do about it is cock your head to one side and gesture for him to turn around. And when he does, you simply squeeze out a handful of the cool lotion and spread it across his shoulders, down his back, and along his arms. He laughs and jumps a bit when your fingers ghost over his hips, and you bite your lip at how absolutely adorable he is.

You wipe your hands on a towel to remove excess lotion before Thor sits beside you and asks, “Would you mind braiding my hair?”

The Valkyrie watches you closely. She sips on a bottle of beer as you tell thor, “Not at all.”

And then you part his hair down the center, then French braid one section, and then the other. Despite the healthy layer of oil lining his hair, which makes the strands stay in place better, stubborn little strands fall out around his face.

His smile is unbelievably bright. Genuine. It makes you beam right back at him until the Valkyrie jokingly scoffs and teases, “You two are disgusting.”

She finishes off her beer, puts the glass bottle in a garbage bag you’ve brought along - one for recycling and one for actual garbage - then quickly steps up onto the side of the boat and dives into the water.

Thor laughs at her.

For just a second, you remember everything behind you and wonder how you can celebrate when everything else seems so bleak.

But then Thor laughs louder at something you’ve missed - the Valkyrie spitting out salt water as she resurfaces - and you remember. Just being alive is reason enough to celebrate. Being here, with Thor, is enough.

You reach forward and kiss his cheek boldly, then only hesitate a second to watch for his reaction. His laughter dies, and he looks rather surprised, but the light in his eyes stays lit. You smile at him, then turn and launch yourself into the water, too.

--

A few nights later, you clear the dishes from the dinner table once the two of you are done talking over the food that’s chilled. You’ve sat for so long, just eating and talking, that your back and legs hurt a little, but you wouldn’t change a thing.

You turn the sink on to wash the dishes, but his huge arms come around you and take the plate from your hands before you can even get the sponge soapy. “You already do so much for me, (Y/N),” he says. “I’ll get this.”

And then he kisses your cheek, just like you’d done on the boat. His beard tickles your neck, so you can’t help but laugh and try to pull away from him, but you’re trapped between his arms. He just laughs with you, then lifts one arm to let you out so he can actually get the cleaning done.

Afterwards, he joins you in the living room on the couch. You’ve turned on the local news, even though neither of you tend to watch the news. Sometimes there are segments about the Avengers, and you know they upset Thor, so you avoid them.

And neither of you prefer watching segments about orphans left behind by the Snap. Or, really, anything having to do with the Snap at all.

But tonight, neither of you even notice the television. You see it, sure, but you’re tucked up against Thor and you feel so comfortable and at home that whatever the news anchor is saying doesn’t matter.

“Can I ask you something?” Thor pipes out of nowhere.

“You just did,” you tease, but then he pokes your side and you flinch. You turn on your side and throw an arm across him, and for a second, he goes stock still beneath you. But then you tell him, “But go on,” and he relaxes.

He clears his throat before asking, “Why did you kiss me the other day?”

That, you had not been expecting.

But like you do with everything, you give him honesty in this. “I was just...grateful to see you happy.” You tilt your head back to look up at him, your hand across him coming up to his jaw. He lets you touch him there, run your fingers along the beard he hasn’t been bothered to trim. You like it like this, actually. “Why did you kiss me tonight?” you ask him.

He’s not nervous or guarded at your retort. His eyes crinkle with his smile, just the way you’ve come to adore.

“I’m just grateful to have someone reminding me that I’m not defined by my failure.”

There’s a palpable shift between you. The next step you take, whatever it is, puts you on one path or another, but you won’t be able to back track if you make the wrong decision.

It’s pretty clear which path you decide to take. If you cared to, you might wonder how long you’ve known you’d go down this way.

Your hand moves up into the hair at the base of his neck. His skin is warmest there, and he ignites in gooseflesh at your touch. One of his arms cradles you, pulls you in, as you bring his face down toward yours.

This time, neither of you worry about cheeks. His lips find yours so easily. He tastes like dinner - garlic and paprika, more than anything else - but you must, too. His kiss is so comforting, so...utterly right that you press in even more until there isn’t any room left between you.

--

Every night gets a little more intimate. Every day, you wait patiently for Korg and Miek to leave before tucking yourself under Thor’s arm, snuggling up against him, letting him hold you and touch you like he lets you do for him.

You still don’t know why you get to have this happiness when more than half of Asgard is gone. When the unspeakable has happened to the entire Universe.

But you have the happiness you didn’t know you’d been craving since….well, before Ragnarok. Thor has something to make him feel worthy again, and it’s you.

He says as much, at least once a week. It’s sappy and maybe a little dramatic, but if it’s how he’s feeling, you let him feel it. At least he’s letting emotion and life in again. At least he’s not wasting away anymore.

--

The second anniversary of your “time together” (as you’ve been referring to it) comes quickly. This time, you and Thor cook together. You play soft music and flirt over the meal you’ve prepared, then split the dishes and skip television.

It’s the first time you’ve been in his bedroom. There are a few articles of clothing strewn haphazardly about, but overall, it’s a simple room and rather clean. No pictures, no private television. Just a bed, a closet, a dresser, and Thor.

When he places you back on his mattress, a puff of detergent-scented air wafts up at you. He must’ve cleaned his sheets recently, you think. It’s a nice thought.

You scoot yourself back on the bed and take your t-shirt off, dropping it off the side of the bed and onto the floor. Thor stares at you, unmoving for a moment. You both knew things were coming to this - another step in your relationship - and somehow, he seems unprepared.

Or just nervous.

He gets that way sometimes, like right after dinner, when you snuggle up to him and touch his belly. He’s not entirely proud of how he looks, despite you never having said anything to make him think you didn’t like him just as he was.

You unbutton your pants and slip them off, letting them fall where your shirt’s gone. Thor stops breathing. He hasn’t even stood up from where he’d been before, hovering over your body. You sneak back below him, sitting up this time, and slide your lips against his.

“I want you, Thor,” you tell him in a whisper, pushing on the hood of his sweater.

That, he allows you to pull off. His tongue laves at your bottom lip until your fingers find the hem of his shirt. Then he’s frozen again.

You pull back and ask, “Do you want to?”

Fresh peppermint wafts over you as he sighs. You try to figure out when he had time to chew on a mint, but it’s not important. What is is the small, almost saddened smile he gives you.

“I do,” he says. “I really, really do. It’s just…”

He can’t meet your eyes. His shut, and he lets his head hang. You’re close enough that his forehead collides with your shoulder, and you can’t help but chuckle and run a hand through his hair.

“I’m not what I once was,” he whispers, his beard dragging across your collarbone.

“That’s okay,” you whisper back, gently scratching along his scalp the way you know he likes. “You’re exactly how I like you, no matter what.”

Another heavy breath blows across your skin. You shiver and smile and tilt your head down until your lips almost reach his ear. “I have seen you without your shirt on before, you know,” you tease him.

It has the effect you wish; he laughs and shakes his head, then moves back enough to look at you again. His brow is creased as he nods. “You’re right,” he says. “I’m being ridiculous.”

You don’t stop smiling, but you do shake your head. “No, I think you’re being perfectly rational. I’m just reminding you that you’re not your failures, and that I wouldn’t be right where I am if I didn’t want to be.” You shrug, then slowly lower yourself so you lay back on the bed again. With your hand still in his hair, you tug gently and bring him down with you.

Thor is soft and warm and so comfortable. You’re sure you’d have liked him like he used to be, but he’s not like that anymore. You like him just as much now.

Because, though now’s not the time to say so, you don’t just like him for his looks. You like that he has never treated you as anything other than a person. Then a friend and now...more. You like that his presence is enough to remind you that you deserve happiness - that you both deserve happiness, despite everything.

“You’re amazing, (Y/N),” he sighs against your lips.

“Oh, don’t I know it,” you tease. “I’ve got to be some kind of awesome to have been looking after you all this time.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him, just to make sure he knows you’re absolutely joking.

His fingers pinching your sides confirm it. His lips swallow your whining laughter, and before long, you resume the attempt to remove his shirt. This time, he lets it happen - slowly. He’s unwilling to remove his lips from yours, but the second you get the chance as he breaks away for breath, you throw his shirt off the end of the bed.

“You are worthy, Thor. Worthy and wonderful,” you tell him as you trace your nails down his arms and back.

He pauses again, but this time, his eyes positively shine. His kisses that follow are electric, igniting little steps of a path down your body while his hands drag what’s left of your clothing off. His teeth drag along your skin, lips and tongue soothing each little bite he leaves as he explores.

Being caressed like this by a King, despite having thought of him as anything else in the last almost two years, is exquisite. Maybe Thor isn’t who he once was - is anyone? - but he certainly knows what he’s doing.

Kisses litter your thighs as he lifts one leg to brace it over his shoulder, then he does the same with the other. You’d swear the one look he gives you before diving in is full of lightning; just the thought spreads heat all through your body.

One, two, three little licks. One long swipe, from the bottom up. A long, deep groan at your taste before settles and circles your clit. Hands massage your bum, tongue laps at your wetness. His beard tickles and scratches and it all feels simply divine. Your hand in his hair tightens into a fist; he winces, but simply reaches up and pulls your fingers away to hold onto them with his own.

You push against him, want him deeper, need more of him. Pressure’s already building in your chest and lower abdomen. You call his name in rushed, haphazard whispers, chanting for him partially because you can’t think to do anything else, partially because he’s earned the praise.

He slips one finger inside of you, smirks against your core, then pushes in a second. The digits are thick and long, reaching places that haven’t been touched in years. Disaster after disaster prevented this; Thor must feel the same, because suddenly, he’s taking his time. He pumps his fingers, but slowly. Only adds a third when he is positive it’ll fit comfortably - you moan so loudly he laughs.

All you can respond with is, “Fuck me,” and that makes him laugh harder.

“Already on it,” he taunts, but he can’t get anything else out when you use your free hand to shove him back down. One last laugh before he gets back to work.

He’s deeper inside of you than anything you’ve felt before. Just his fingers - he reaches your spot easily, presses into it while his tongue speeds its circles around your clit. You bring his hand in yours up to your breasts for him to play; the pebbled buds there are so tense they ache. Thor twists and pinches, and little pangs of pleasure pulsate all the way down your body to your core.

Words won’t come anymore. Just moans and groans, heavy sighs as the pressure peaks and your back arches off the bed. Your inner walls clench tight around his fingers, then release waves of intense bliss throughout your whole body. Every limb shakes, your eyes shut tight, your thighs trap his head against your heat - Thor takes it all in stride.

He strokes you through your climax, slowing as you do, reading your body nearly as well as you do. He only pulls back when you’ve stilled, though your breathing is still labored.

You don’t notice the sting his beard has left until after he’s started dragging kisses up your body again. It all feels...indescribable. You’re floating, and you refuse to come down from your perch. You want Thor to join you.

When you’ve got enough control over your breathing to speak again, you manage to get out a short, “Turn over.”

Thor stops, stares at you for a moment, then does as you’ve said. He lays out on his back, and you turn to straddle his hips.

His beard shines with your release. His eyes sparkle with something else, but something close. You haven’t seen him like this, maybe ever. Your whole body heats up knowing only you have something to do with that look of euphoria on his face.

You lean forward and crash your lips against his. The taste of you on his tongue exhilarates you, floods heat directly to your core. Without moving you, he reaches forward to remove his jeans and briefs, and then you’re truly, possibly for the first time, on equal footing.

His hands on your hips help guide you over him. You reach for his cock, already hard and thick and leaking, and coat it in your wetness. Open mouth against open mouth - both caught as you gasp while he pushes into you. In an unspoken agreement, you go slowly until you’re fully seated on him.

Your eyes roll back at how deep he is. Further than his fingers reached; further than anyone you’ve had before. He gives you time to adjust around him while you throw your arms around his shoulders and cling to him.

“You okay?” he asks, one hand caressing your breasts, the other massaging your back.

After a moment, you nod. Smile. Tell him, “I’ve never been better.”

He smiles at that. Then asks, “Ready?”

Another moment, another nod. His lips close around yours again, and his hands both return to your hips. You push up, and he helps. In tandem, you’re nearly lifted off of him before you come back down. Your walls drag over every inch of him, his lips cover every inch of your skin he can reach. Slowly, speed builds, as does the familiar, glorious pressure within you.

Your hands explore the gentle slopes and curves of his body, and for once, he doesn’t pull away or freeze. You exalt him, and he brings you to new heights with each thrust. You feel him shiver when your palm grazes a nipple, so you backtrack and play like he had with yours. The moans you earn in gratitude thrill you, take you higher, bring him closer.

He takes the lead, pumping madly up into you as he chases his bliss. You throw your head back and drop your free hand to your clit, yelling out whenever his teeth nip at your throat and shoulders. It’s all so much, and before long, you hear yourself whimpering, “I’m so close, my love.”

You’ve never called him that before. Neither of you seem to notice, though.

“Come with me,” he whispers back.

And somehow, his timing is just right. You feel him tense below you, and as if on command, your walls grip his cock in a vice. One or both of you curse - you’ve lost the ability to decipher who’s saying what - as you rock against one another, relenting to the pleasure that takes you both.

His warmth engulfs you as you both calm. You’re so grateful for that constant.

After a while, he turns you over and slowly, gently releases himself from you. You can feel yourself smile, but your eyes begin to shut. You think he might be slipping off the bed, but can’t do anything about it.

What feels like an eternity later, a cool, damp cloth is pressed to your skin in little squares and increments. Warm lips go back and forth across your forehead. Thor asks various questions - “Do you feel okay?” “Did I tire you out?” “What did you mean by that nickname?” - and at first, you grunt positive responses because that’s all you can manage.

The last one forces you to breathe deeper, to turn toward him and open your eyes again. You smile up at him, wipe hair away from his face, and tell him, “Exactly what you think.”

--

It rains for weeks at a time over the summer. It’s almost funny how light storms don’t make him happy. You watch him sit in the rocker by the window, gazing out to sea with few words on his tongue.

On days like those, when he has nothing to say because everything in his head is getting the best of him, you try one thing: you make him breakfast. If he eats most or all of the food you’ve brought, then you invite yourself to sit in his lap and watch the water with him.

If he doesn’t touch it, you clear the plate, ask him if there’s anything you can do for him, and ultimately sigh when he says there isn’t. It’s not that you’re disappointed, and you hope he knows that. It’s just that you wish there was something you could do.

On days like that, there isn’t a single thing you wouldn’t give to make him smile. You’ve tried movies, music, dancing, crafting… The only thing that satisfies him is beer after beer, despite never getting drunk off of them. You can’t understand how he drinks it for the taste, but he insists that’s why he likes it.

So you do chores on those days. Laundry gets done in the kitchen, and cleaning is pursued throughout the shack. You spend the day pretending not to hover over him, and he spends it lost in memories he’s too tired to share.

You make a smaller dinner on those days. He picks at the food, eating little bits here and there. He thanks you, at least, and holds your hand when you go to clear the table.

“I’m sorry I’m not being...myself today,” he says, nearly every time without fail.

Today, you put the plates you’re carrying back on the table and kneel in front of him, never letting go of his hand in yours. “You don’t have to apologize for this,” you tell him. “Not to me.” You bring his hand to your lips and kiss his center knuckle.

His voice is merely a whisper when he says, “It’s just… I know it hurts you.”

You shake your head. “Your feelings don’t hurt me. I wish I could keep you from being so sad, of course, but I won’t deny you that right.” With a squeeze to his hand, you push yourself up and bring your lips to his forehead. “You, more than any of us, deserve to feel. So feel.”

He shakes a bit, but his free arm wraps around you and pulls you close. You hold his head to your stomach, just let him lean against you like that. This moment isn’t about you, and you know that, but you don’t keep yourself from thinking that it is so nice to be wanted and needed like this. If this is the only thing you can do for Thor when he feels down, then so be it.

It’s enough.

--

He finally tells you about the ghosts three years in.

“At first, it was just Loki. And he’s come back from the dead before, so I followed him...out to the edge of the forest.” His eyes go to the window at the back of the kitchen where, sure enough, you can see the exact spot he stands in by the trees. “I thought it was another one of his tricks, but he never spoke, never came near. Never told me why he was being so...cruel as to tease me like that.”

You wrap your hand around his. He only acknowledges with a squeeze of his fingers over yours.

“My mother came soon after. But, just like Loki, she never approached. That was when I knew they weren’t real. Or, at least, they weren’t really here.”

“Her magic was always great,” you tell him, your thumb stroking across his knuckles. You nod at one another, as you both seem to remember parts of the past. It’s funny, you think, how close you’d been all the time. So close, and so far.

And now you’re closer to him than you’ve ever been to anyone.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if some of their magic still exists in the universe,” you tell him softly.

He tries - oh does he try - to smile at you then. But it doesn’t quite reach.

You want him to know it’s okay, so you let him go just to get up from your seat and put yourself in his lap. You pull his head to your shoulder, run your fingers through his hair that needs to be washed soon. You breathe him in - the faintest hint of ozone fills your senses - and you settle there because you just know that somehow, everything will be okay.

Eventually.

One day, the ghosts of the past will leave Thor be.

--

The fifth year is far from the best.

There are good days, of course. Good weeks, whole months were Thor is happy and thriving. Those are the times when you stay longer, whole days in a row before ever going back to your own home. You’ve never had a house to yourself before, and since neither of you are in a hurry to change the living situations you’re in, you keep your home even if you spend more time in Thor’s.

But then, for what feels like longer stretches, he grows quiet again. He yells at people over the game Korg and Miek play. He talks to the ghosts at the edge of the forest now, and you wonder if there’s anything you can do to get them to leave him alone. Short of a seance, you don’t think there is.

One day, one of his darker streaks, a truck comes across the only bridge into New Asgard. From the shack, you can see the Hulk in the bed of the truck. He seems to be talking to someone, but from your vantage point, you see no other body. It’s odd to see someone so large, someone who’d used brute strength to attempt to save the old Asgard, perched so in the bed of a truck.

When the truck comes around, there’s a small rodent sitting beside the huge green body. You watch as the Valkyrie greets them like old friends. Well, you think, she is old friends with the Hulk.

She brings them up to the shack while you’re folding laundry. You listen in, not wanting to move, not wanting to scare off the visitors or something else that’s just as irrational.

The Hulk - though his voice is not the same, and his speech pattern is eloquent in a way it wasn’t the last time you’d seen him - tells Thor that the Avengers may have a way to reverse all that’s been done since the Snap. Since Ragnarok, even.

Your eyes widen. Your heart quickens.

A selfish side of yourself you haven’t indulged or shown in some time rears its ugly head.

You don’t want Thor to go back.

You love him just the way he is. He loves you, even when he can’t bring himself to smile. Something in his eyes still shines for you, even on those days. Going back means losing all of that, losing the affection and adoration you’ve both desperately earned and craved since your homeworld was blown to smithereens by a fire demon. The fire demon.

But you are not a selfish person. Your love for Thor has never been selfish, and his love for you has never been either.

So when he comes to you, not five minutes later, and takes your hands before he kneels on the hard kitchen floor in front of you, you know you won’t deny him this chance to make things right.

He smells of beer and soap - not the soap you like, just the hand soap he keeps by his sink. He looks you in the eye for the first time all day and says, “I have to go. If there’s even the slightest chance of saving them, I have to take it.”

It takes you a second, because you can feel your heart breaking, but you nod. In some way, you think you’ve known something like this would happen all along. The Avengers weren’t a team of people that rested when the world had lost all its hope. Thor wasn’t that person, for sure, and if he worked with and trusted the rest of that team, you knew they all had to operate similarly.

The breath you let out is shaky at best. You bring your forehead down to Thor’s, kiss his nose as lightly as you can, and shut your eyes.

“Come back to me. That’s all I ask.”

You can feel him shiver as your lips graze over his.

“I will. I promise.”

--

He’s gone for two weeks. You keep his shack clean. You pick up after Korg and Miek and enjoy their company because all you have left is the two of them and the Valkyrie.

She disappears the evening before Thor returns, in full regalia. With both of them gone, you can’t sleep. You pace the living room, fighting with yourself about whether or not to tune into a news channel.

Ultimately, you don’t do it.

The sun comes up. You curled into Thor’s rocker hours ago, and have since somehow nodded off - not fully asleep, but not aware of your surroundings anymore.

The front door opens. You rub your eyes and groan.

Thor calls your name.

You sit up immediately, look over the back of the chair, and feel yourself breathe deeply. There he is - in his scaled armor, his huge axe named Stormbreaker aloft in one hand. He places it against the far wall of the living room gently, then comes over to you.

For the second time, he kneels at your side. Takes your hand and smiles up at you.

You can hear revelry in the town below the hill. Music blasts, people cheer, you even think fireworks go off.

“I told you I’d come back,” he says, kissing the knuckles of your left hand. He pushes himself up until you’re face-to-face, and then he looks out past you, out the window next to you. “And now, so are they,” he says with a nod.

When you look, your breath is stolen right out of your lungs.

Because there, in the center of New Asgard, is...everyone.

[aconstellationofmemories]

Fading Conscience: Part One

In celebration of @juvialos-blog 's birthday, the Undead Girls aka @sweetmemories2606 and I teamed up to write a two-part Gruvia fanfic. I'm honoured that the Queen of Angst entrusted the angsty scenes to me. Please stay tuned for Part Two from her!

I wish a very happy birthday to @juvialos-blog. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it, Mina. 💛🎉

Word count: 1.3k

AO3

____________________

“You know, you have the potential to be one of us.”

Gray stared in apprehension at Invel’s sudden proposition. The frigid winds of the raging blizzard gusted mercilessly around them. Being an ice mage, he developed an immunity to cold, but this – this was on another level altogether. For the first time in his life, a snowstorm chilled his bones and threatened to freeze him.

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed it yourself, but darkness is seeping into your heart.”

“Huh? What is this crap you’re sprouting?”

“It is the darkness itself that is the origin of black magic. The root of His Majesty’s power.”

All this philosophical crap was hurting his head. “Wait, you know you’re the villain here?”

“Darkness is unrelated to the concepts of good and evil. It is a tremendous source of power, one that any human being can possess,” Invel explained, pinning him a cold stare. “And the darkness within you is on the verge of release.”

Gray had enough of the hypocrite’s preaching. Whether the darkness of the Devil Slayer magic he inherited from his father was swallowing his heart or making him a monster, he would become darkness itself if he could protect his family.

“Quit it with that nonsense,” he said, clenching his fist. “I ain’t never been the squeaky-clean hero type anyway!” Gray levelled Invel a glowering look. “Evil, scum – I don’t care. I will become any of those things if it’s to save my guild!”

“You tell ‘im, Gray!” Natsu exclaimed as his flames melted the supposedly pure ice of Invel. “That’s what it means to be in Fairy Tail!”

“The ice melted!” Happy cheered.

“Hot!! Cold!!” Lucy exclaimed.

“Is Gray-sama all right?!” Juvia inquired in alarm.

Gray glanced back, relieved to see them all freed from Invel’s ice. “You’re free...”

“Now to turn the tables! We can win this if we work together!” Lucy’s speech abruptly ended with a squeal.

“I’m taking these,” a giant Brandish proclaimed out of nowhere, seizing Lucy, Natsu, and Happy in her enlarged hands.

Without waiting for anyone’s acknowledgement, she pivoted on her heels and stomped away. Her footsteps thundered and shook the ground with each heavy step. Gray could faintly hear the trio’s protests at being carried away against their will, all of which fell on deaf ears.

“Hold it right there!” he shouted to Brandish as he watched on helplessly.

“Gray-sama!!”

Juvia turned to approach him, but stumbled on her way and swayed to the sides. “Juvia is...” she pressed a hand to her head, sounding confused. “Juvia...” she trailed off, and a second later – she collapsed.

“Juvia!”

Gray rushed to catch her in his arms. She was knocked out for no apparent reason suddenly. Damn it, not Juvia too. “Oi! What’s wrong with you?!”

“She fainted because of a curse I set on her,” Invel calmly declared amid his confusion.

“You bastard–” Gray gritted his teeth, his angry gaze slicing him. His death glare promised retribution for harming Juvia.

“Only a true love’s kiss can dispel the curse and wake her.”

True love’s kiss?

Of all things, Gray wasn’t expecting a kiss to lift the curse. What game was Invel playing with him? Could he even believe what Invel was saying? His gaze dipped down to Juvia in his arms. He knew fully well of her feelings for him. She wore her heart on her sleeve for the world to see. His feelings, on the other hand, weren’t as clear-cut.

Was he capable of loving someone?

He didn’t know.

Love was a foreign emotion for the ice mage, and he preferred to keep it that way.

What he did know for certain, however, was that he would protect Juvia to his last breath.

With his desire to keep her safe burning brightly, he leaned down in an attempt to lift the sleeping curse.

His descent was stopped short when an ice collar secured itself around his neck. Something strange was happening – his brain felt fuzzy all of a sudden, his mind disoriented and his thoughts jumbled. He raised his hand to his forehead. “What...is this...? My mind is all cloudy – I can’t think–”

“Ice Lock,” Invel’s sombre voice penetrated the fog in his mind. “This magic locks away the mind and makes the body into my puppet.”

“This little thing, I can break it–” Gray gripped the ice collar. There was no ice which he couldn’t break. Yet no matter how hard he tried, he failed to break the band.

“Well then...” Invel instructed, smirking ever so slightly. “I invite you to kill your own comrade at your leisure.”

“Juvia...no...” Gray squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. He could never lift a finger to hurt her, and yet...

The next moment his eyes opened, his betraying hands were closed around her delicate neck. Every neuron in his brain compelled him to strangle the life out of her.

“No...I can’t...” His entire body shook from the effort. Damn it. His body was disobeying his desperate orders at the worst time. Rapidly losing control of his consciousness, he racked his brains for a way to stop this transgression immediately.

Yes, that’s it.

“Your resistance is futile,” Invel said, “Ice Lock robs you of the ability to think or feel.”

Gathering what little willpower he had left, Gray released Juvia’s neck – and stabbed himself in the abdomen with an ice sword.

“You – you sacrificed your life for your comrade?!” Invel blurted, shocked at his sacrifice. For the first time, the bastard had a reaction.

“I would...rather die...than kill my comrade...no, Juvia...” he forced his words out. Gray glared defiantly at Invel even at his death, proving to him that he wasn’t puppet to manipulate to his wishes. His emotions and desire to protect his family were stronger than any magic in the world.

“I miscalculated,” Invel said, pushing up his specs as he composed himself. “Now that it has come to this, I must see to eliminating E.N.D myself.” Not sparing them another glance, he turned his back on them and strode away.

With the departure of the Pure Ice mage, the blizzard disappeared with its caster. The Ice Lock which collared Gray perished into thin air.

Lying on his back as he bled out, he twisted his head to glance at Juvia beside him. Rebelling against his failing body and stiff muscles, he summoned the last bit of his strength and stretched out his fingers toward her. His bloody fingers crawled slowly on the ground as they inched closer to her hand, leaving a scarlet trail behind each step.

“Juvia...”

Just for one last time, he wished he could see her smile.

“Gray-sama!”

He was glad his mind was recovering from Invel’s mind control, for he swore he could hear her sweet, bubbly voice. She was calling him name with such joy and fondness.

What I wouldn’t give to hear it forever.

He coughed out in pain, his hands halfway to their destination. “Juvia...”

Looking back now, he was relieved that she was sleeping for the whole time. This way, she wouldn’t have to witness him being mind-controlled, or when he tried to kill her with his hands...

...or when he took his last breath.

There’d be no traumatic memory of the event to haunt her.

It’s better this way.

He wasn’t worried about Juvia’s well-being. Natsu and the rest would find a way to lift the curse. Knowing he protected her till the very end, he could resign to his fate peacefully.

Less than an inch away from touching the tips of her slender fingers, his trembling hand faltered, then dropped with solemn finality.

I’m sorry, Juvia.

“I–”

The lids of his eyes fell shut and the darkness swallowed his world.

[aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaoldretired]

I would like to hear about the punny girl

hnng thank you

i present you: kanon fukuda the ultimate filmmaker. do you get the pun?

kanon is my best girl. her backstory isn’t anything too like. angsty bc i know some can be angsty but her’s isn’t supposed to be about that. she grew up as the only child in a middle-class family with two parents who were confused by her hobbies and love of film but very supportive. also they grow to feel bad they gave her the name kanon bc all the jokes but it’s ok she kinda likes it kinda hates it. she actually got into filmmaking because she had an older cousin who acted as a sibling figure, and they would make home movies together. kanon would throw herself into her movies and kept producing and producing as fast as she could. eventually, she started entering them in both national and international youth film competitions and began winning titles. it’s at this point when she was scouted and started making professional short films. she had just finished working on her first feature-length film, which early reviews were calling her magnum opus to date, and exciting work from an up-and-coming filmmaker. 

the reason why kanon chose to attend hopes peak is that her older cousin died in the tragedy. she doesn’t know they died. she just knows they went to school and never came back, and the family keeps it hush-hush. besides the promise of success, she mostly wants to find out what happened - she assumes it was a bad accent or suicide but oop! additionally, kanon chose to attend because her feature film is to release to the public soon, and she wants to be occupied during this time to take her mind off of the reception. 

while kanon’s family backstory is pretty angst-free besides the missing cousin, kanon is still suffering p bad. she is diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety. but! (unlike p much every other character in the series, it seems) she treats her mental health through medication and regular therapy (until she’s trapped at school). she’s very open about her struggle with mental health and enthusiastically tries to get better. 

as a director, she specializes in dark comedy, parody, and farce. she likes irony, and can always see the twisted humor in a situation, no matter how dire. this issss about where you might start seeing her fatal flaw. 

kanon thoroughly subscribes to the idea that comedy is born from tragedy, and that the rawest types of humor come from pain. she is known for going off her medication during the production of films and making a martyr of herself, taking pride in her horrible sleeping and eating schedule for her art. basically, every film student i’ve ever met. 

she enters the killing game very upbeat. when she finds out the truth, she is very defiant, confident in their ability to escape. she is constantly cracking jokes about the situation and observational humor, and her ideas during the trial are generally very….original. she is known for monologuing and speaking in paragraphs. during trials, she creates elaborate example situations that might seem like they’re unrelated or inconsequential but morally always tie back in. queen of the non-sequitur. early game free time events/island mode would mostly be about movies and genre, with the occasional mention about working hard to be healthy again.

she’s pretty friendly with monokume, subscribing to the philosophy that if you’re kind to him, he’s more likely to do what she wants. she’s often the student who will ask monokume clarifying questions on school policy or for access to supplies. for example, i like to think she asks monokume to provide another student needed insulin. when monokume initially refuses, she goes into a tangential scenario where if this student dies, then isn’t monokume the culprit? he’d have to be executed for harming a student. and what’s this? monokume has been harmed? the person who harmed monokume must be punished. and go round and round in a helpless circle while the students figure out a way to escape. at this point, monokume provides the insulin.

 however, after watching the first punishment, she begins to be filled with a deep despair. she is already dispositioned for despair, given her incredibly unhealthy habits regarding her mental illness and success, but she tries to resist. she remains upbeat, but after the first punishment, her dialogue takes a sharp turn towards dark comedy and macabre. from this moment on, she’s also a lot more skittish and easily startled.

after the first trial on, she will always make a point for thanking the group for being a good group of friends and making the time in hopes peak as tolerable as possible, in case they end up choosing the wrong blackened and all get executed. at the third trial, she follows this speech up with, “but if i die, you are all fucking idiots, way to let me down.”

most of her dialogue is biting, and despite the horror and despair she is filled with after every murder and execution, she can still find ways to crack a twisted joke. occasionally she will have a moment of clarity where she is candid about her feelings. 

- one free time event could feature her talking about her feelings towards actions speak louder than words. her example is couples who say they’re dark and twisted like bonnie and clyde, but really they’re two losers into bdsm. if they’d just say they’re two losers into bdsm, she could respect them. she then explains how the statements of personality are more to convince themselves than anyone else. towards the end, she laughs to herself and explains how she totally screwed herself over because Kanon prides herself in her sense of humor, but if she ever says it aloud, she’s not funny.

- another free time event could be explaining her relationship with death. she’s not afraid of it, but she wants to die on her own terms. she admits to never seeing herself growing old, and that’s she’ll probably be a part of the 27 club if she keeps on the path of a celebrity. 

her condition keeps devolving as the game progresses. more dialogue can include wondering why she is still alive and trying to cover it as a twisted sick joke. she stays upbeat, but as time goes on, you can see she’s slowly getting tired and beaten down. she’s also starting to take pride in her unhealthy lack of sleep, eating, or bathing. 

it’s after the third execution does she actually show a true moment of despair. after the execution and the classmates are silently riding in the elevator back, she announces how she does not plan to live through the game. she does not see any possible reality where she will escape hopes peak. she does, however, make it clear that she will be dying on her own terms. she gives her blessing to the group that anyone can try to kill her, but be aware she won’t go down without a fight.

her free time events are filled with more raw emotion and despair with tinges of humor instead of humor with tinges of despair. 

- she elaborates on what she meant in the elevator as to die by her own hands. she does not want to kill a classmate because she knows her disposition could never handle the trial, let alone the killing part. but she also doesn’t want to die by her classmates without a fight. and she doesn’t want to commit suicide because she has too much pride while also being too much of a coward…

- she explains how this story could be a great script, really, if it weren’t all so real. this generation’s battle royale. she actually gives kudos to the design of each punishment and admits they are inspiring if she ever wanted to do a genre flip and become a psych thriller director.

- just. asking why she isn’t dead yet. why not her? why not?

i want her to be a pretty late game survivor because i think it’s impactful to show her fall into despair, which she uses to harm herself instead of others mostly. it is also after chapter three you truly get to see her martyrdom come out. she has slowly shifted from less of a friend and more towards an antagonistic role, not because she’s a threat, but because she’s literally so full of despair.

anyways. you see her talking to monokume while the rest of the group arrives. before the fourth trial, she does her normal thanking of her classmates and pulls the protag over to thank them personally for the good times and making it the best they could. the protagonist is suspicious of this behavior and wonders if she might be guilty, but the evidence points she is not. the class correctly votes for the blackened. while everyone is waiting for monokume to go forward in the punishment, they’re confused by the delay. monokume is fuming, and it’s revealed. there’s a miscount. one student purposefully chose not to vote, which is a punishable act. the student? kanon.

she always insisted she would die, and she would die on her own terms. she had created a narrative in her head where if she dies a martyr, she will always be remembered lovingly by her fans before any unfortunate career downfall. the director ahead of her time, and gone too soon. she became obsessed with this narrative around chapter three, and the third execution sealed the deal. by the time of the trial, she figured out she could die a death fit for a star while also dying on her terms if she willingly triggered a punishment. 

ive kind offfffff figured out what her last speech could be before her punishment? she explains how “comedy is derived from pain, right? and if i intend on being the greatest director of my time, i need to go through the most suffering. i was born to die a martyr, i was just hoping one of you would do the hard part. but since no one has the balls, you can all suffer with me. see you in hell shitheads” she then asks monokume if her cousin who attended here, were they killed or executed? (was it kill or be killed?) monokume thinks for a second and responds. she smiles and says, that’s all she needed to know. gives a wink to the protag and flicks everyone off as the collar yoinks her off to her death. 

punishment would probably be something with “light camera action” or “ready steady shoot” and be a LITERAL pun on the camera shoot. bc, she’s shot. alternatively, if i were to decide that instead of a generic dead body in the tragedy, she could be related to an actual main game character pref someone who was executed, she could have to play that part in the execution and die the same death, but this time with like. monokume film crew everywhere and actual monokume in the director’s chair with a beret. either is a fun idea.

____________________________________________________________________

i’m a film major, and her character is heavily based on the kind of students and filmmakers i see and work with. there really are people like this who believe suffering for art truly makes them better than others and will purposefully put themselves through psychological torment. additionally, i wanted to see a more realistic portrayal of mental illness and show a character who (at one point at least) treats and is trying to maintain health. in the end, kanon is a narcist who lets her ego get in the way of her wellbeing and success. 

also, kanon’s outfit is so stupid she has strawberry blond hair in a bob with like a widow’s peak, silvery-blue eyes, and wears a big flowy short sleeved button-up shirt, and olive-colored shorts. she has a big pair of aviators she wears tucked in the collar of her shirt, statement earrings, a pop watch, and lots of rings. and she is def not straight ut it’s not like she’s pursuing romance she’s pursuing death

[addictedforbooksquad]

P I C K (S)  O F  T H E  M O N T H: M A R C H

Shades of Magic series by V. E. Schwab

Make Me Bad by R. S. Grey

Mistborn Trilogy by Brandon Sanderson

Devil in Winter by Lisa Kleypas

The Winner’s Trilogy by Marie Rutkoski

Text series by Teagan Hunter

Shades of Magic series by V.E. Schwab

Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult, Magic

Synopsis:

Kell is one of the last Antari—magicians with a rare, coveted ability to travel between parallel Londons; Red, Grey, White, and, once upon a time, Black. Kell was raised in Arnes—Red London—and officially serves the Maresh Empire as an ambassador, traveling between the frequent bloody regime changes in White London and the court of George III in the dullest of Londons, the one without any magic left to see. Unofficially, Kell is a smuggler, servicing people willing to pay for even the smallest glimpses of a world they'll never see. It's a defiant hobby with dangerous consequences, which Kell is now seeing firsthand. After an exchange goes awry, Kell escapes to Grey London and runs into Delilah Bard, a cut-purse with lofty aspirations. She first robs him, then saves him from a deadly enemy, and finally forces Kell to spirit her to another world for a proper adventure. Now perilous magic is afoot, and treachery lurks at every turn. To save all of the worlds, they'll first need to stay alive.

Why we love it:

thief turned pirate badass heroine

great premise with a storyline that felt very different

fabulous world-building with an interesting magic system

if you love London like us, there are four of them instead of one xD

full of morally gray characters!!!!!

don’t get attached to anyone

Trigger warnings: mind control, (mentions of) homophobia, character death

Make Me Bad by R.S. Grey

Genres: Romance, Contemporary, New Adult

Synopsis:

I was issued a warning: stay away from Ben Rosenberg. As Clifton Cove’s resident “king”, he thinks he’s entitled to anyone and anything. The trouble is, I’ve spent my whole life following the rules and playing it safe. I know what it feels like to be the good girl. I’m the police chief’s daughter and a librarian—for adorable children, no less. An all-nighter with a fictional hunk is about as exciting as my life gets until one day, fate decides to take pity on me and shove me straight into the path of Mr. Off-Limits himself. Just as I suspected, every inch of him promises to be my demise. Up close, he’s tall, menacing—a lawyer who looks like he’ll bite. A well-behaved girl would do as she’s told and avoid him at all costs, but I’m overdue for a little rebellion. So, I ignore the warning and throw caution to the wind. But Ben doesn’t just nudge me out of my comfort zone—he thrusts me into a dark corner and presses his hard body against mine, covering my mouth with his hand to ensure we don’t get caught sneaking around. In that moment, I finally understand why everyone thinks he’s going to ruin me. To him, this is all a game. He wants to tempt me with his dares and taunt me with his words. I should play along. After all, I asked him to make me bad. I just never thought he’d take his job quite so seriously...

Why we love it:

honestly the cutest thing ever

entertaining characters

friends to lovers done well

pretty angst-free (in a good way)

reading this book just makes you feel good

Trigger warnings: assault (one scene)

Mistborn Trilogy by Brandon Sanderson

Genres: Fantasy, High Fantasy, Adult

Synopsis:

In a world where ash falls from the sky, and mist dominates the night, an evil cloaks the land and stifles all life. The future of the empire rests on the shoulders of a troublemaker and his young apprentice. Together, can they fill the world with color once more? In Brandon Sanderson's intriguing tale of love, loss, despair and hope, a new kind of magic enters the stage — Allomancy, a magic of the metals.

Why we love it:

amazing world-building

unique and interesting magic system

lots of unexpected twists

the story follows different characters and their POVs

amazing, quality writing

Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault (mentioned/suggested)

Devil in Winter by Lisa Kleypas

Genres: Romance, Historical Romance, Regency

Synopsis:

A Devil's Bargain Easily the shyest Wallflower, Evangeline Jenner stands to become the wealthiest, once her inheritance comes due. Because she must first escape the clutches of her unscrupulous relatives, Evie has approached the rake Viscount St. Vincent with a most outrageous proposition: marriage! Sebastian's reputation is so dangerous that thirty seconds alone with him will ruin any maiden's good name. Still, this bewitching chit appeared, unchaperoned, on his doorstep to offer her hand. Certainly an aristocrat with a fine eye for beauty could do far worse. But Evie's proposal comes with a condition: no lovemaking after their wedding night. She will never become just another of the dashing libertine's callously discarded broken hearts—which means Sebastian will simply have to work harder at his seductions... or perhaps surrender his own heart for the very first time in the name of true love.

Why we love it:

our favourite book from the Wallflower series

Sebastian with his fallen angel looks has amazing growth in this book and he isn’t quite the villain he led us to believe

Evie, our shy timid Wallflower really comes into her own in this book when she decides to take her future into her own hands with an offer that Sebastian can’t refuse

wickedly sexy dialogues

their chemistry is off the charts !!!

LK is the reigning Queen of historical romance

Trigger warnings: (mentions of) domestic violence

The Winner’s Trilogy by Marie Rutkoski

Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult, Romance

Synopsis:

Winning what you want may cost you everything you love... As a general’s daughter in a vast empire that revels in war and enslaves those it conquers, seventeen-year-old Kestrel has two choices: she can join the military or get married. But Kestrel has other intentions. One day, she is startled to find a kindred spirit in a young slave up for auction. Arin’s eyes seem to defy everything and everyone. Following her instinct, Kestrel buys him—with unexpected consequences. It’s not long before she has to hide her growing love for Arin. But he, too, has a secret, and Kestrel quickly learns that the price she paid for a fellow human is much higher than she ever could have imagined. Set in a richly imagined new world, The Winner’s Curse by Marie Rutkoski is a story of deadly games where everything is at stake, and the gamble is whether you will keep your head or lose your heart.

Why we love it:

angsty AF

awesome world-building

best character development

enemies to lovers trope YASSS

one of the best but underrated YA series

heroine who is written as both badass and feminine

Trigger warnings: slavery, violence, racism, attempted sexual assault

Text series by Teagan Hunter

Genres: Romance, Contemporary, New Adult

Synopsis:

A wrong number is supposed to be just that—a wrong number. Delete. Done. Do not continue to text. Do not flirt. A wrong number shouldn’t be the first person on your mind in the morning, or the last at night…and you’re definitely not supposed to talk them into buying a baby goat. Because that would be weird. When Zach Hastings and I get into a wrong-number mix-up, we don’t follow the rules. We keep texting and flirting, because he’s wicked funny and perfectly nerdy and a wonderful distraction. I’m not looking for love, and Zach definitely had the wrong number. But maybe… Maybe he’s the right guy.

Why we love it:

a series of four books but can be read as standalones

cute, funny and sexy aka the best romance combo

original formatting - lots of dialogue in text messages (which can be annoying to some but we found it refreshing)

roommates, second chance romance, forbidden romance - a mix of our fave tropes all in one series

Trigger warnings: n/a