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[horsentale]

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[arioloyal]

Yayy you're taking requests now!! If I may, can you write one where Baldwin's health improves and every woman wants to try their luck with him. But he remains loyal to the one who was with him all the time.

I love it that the fandom is growing have more talented writers so thanks in advance 💕💕

Hi!. Thank you for your words♡. To be honest, the fandom activity has decreased recently, so I decided to start writing by myself. Although it doesn't get enough notice, I will try my best. I hope you like it💖

(King baldwin iv x reader oneshot)

Warning: mention of d×eath and blood, leprosy

[Persia empire- 1181]

...About 3 months had passed since my father's death and the time did not help. Millions of thoughts passed through my head every day. Did he die because of the heavy burden of my sins? Is this God's punishment?

This morning at sunrise I kissed my mother's hand and set off. I always heard from pilgrims who had returned that Jerusalem is the best place to ask for forgiveness.

I jumped on my black horse and galloped forward. My mother's tired face flashed in my mind like lightning for a moment and then went off. I knew she was worried about me, but honestly, I didn't saw any reason for her to worry. As far as I know, we should worry about those who are moving away from God and love, not those who are always moving quickly towards love and destiny.

I didn't know what was waiting for me in Jerusalem. But I was ready to embrace any destiny the holy land had for me. Even with all the difficulties and sorrows.

...the night before leaving home, I opened the windows of my room all the way. The smell of darkness filled the room. I sat under the flickering light of the candles while looking at a large mirror. I braided my hair, cleaning my skin and put the red robe and turban by my bed.

When I was done, I checked my face. It had become more tender and beautiful. I had nothing left from the past. Just for now, I was ready forever.

I went to my mother's room and asked her to pray for me. When she saw my new face, she said: "I see that your journey has changed you, even though it hasn't started yet.

I said: "Love is a journey. The traveler of this journey, whether she wants it or not, will change from head to toe. There is no one who goes this way and doesn't change."

My mother smiled faintly and called me. Then she gave me a wooden box. Inside the box were three things: a mirror with a silver frame, an embroidered silk handkerchief, and a crystal little glass.

:"These will help you on your journey. Whenever you need, use these. If you ever feel ugly and lose your self-confidence, this mirror will show you the beauty inside you. whenever You feel that have no credibility and you are alone, this silk handkerchief reminds you that the most important thing is the purity of heart and soul and that medicine inside the glass, which is very rare, can heal any wounds."

After I caressed these three things. I thanked my mother, kissed her hand and walked towards destiny...

[Jerusalem- 1183]

About two years have passed since I arrived in the Holy Land. I didn't even imagine that I would be able to stay here for so long, and that was thanks to the royal court, who let me in as an advisor and mentor. I would be lying if I said that all of them liked me. Lord Lusignan and his followers looked at me as a witch who has bewitched and trapped the king.

I talked day and night with the leper king, that wandering ghost of the palace who has not sat at the dinner table with his knights for years. He always challenged me mentally, which of course was not easy, but his peaceful nature was always behind his beautiful calming voice, which made me more fascinated by him day by day.

But I only came here to seek forgiveness from God, not anything else...

Fate took me to another place that I did not even imagine. I gave him all the contents of the box. Those three valuable things. I used that ointment in the glass for his wounds. That box was destined to have another owner.

it worked...

After weeks, the purulent wounds and infections dried up. i think he was feeling better

:"Gather all your strength. God will make better things for you," I said as I bandaged his arms.

:"God, doesn't know me." His eyes never stopped staring at me and even penetrated to my bones.

- : "Yes, but I do."...

The news of the King's recovery spread across borders and seas and reached Damascus, Syria, France and England. Almost every day, the nobles and their daughters came from far away to congratulate the king and presented him with all kinds of gifts. But they were surprisingly rejected by Baldwin iv.

:"... Right now, all these gifts should be sold to the merchants, only that small fund will remain. From the cost of selling these, grains should be prepared for the people."

Tiberias asked with a surprised expression: "Is there any problem, my lord?"

:"No...by the way, where is lady y/n?"

....

Tiberias's face closed like an iron door. The question that he was afraid of was finally asked...

:"Tiberias?!

- :"Lady y/n ...honestly.. she's not here anymore. She's gone." Words tumbled out of his mouth like incoherent puzzles.

:"What do you mean she's gone?"

Baldwin's breathing became heavier and his voice more frightening. After staring at the box for a few moments, he broke the silence again.

:"Take the letter that I'm writing to her and bring y/n back to me anyway. If necessary, search this land from stone to stone. Bring her to me. I'm begging you..."

...I had reached Damascus and decided to stay in the caravanserai temporarily tonight. I shouldn't have forgotten my goal and stayed in a place where I don't belong. But I am nervous at the thought of Baldwin's concern, but I don't think that there is any need for my presence, while those beautiful and noble girls are hanging around him.

:" Please don't forget your turn y/n!"

- :" Oh, I'm sorry. Yes..." I looked at the chess board. I used to play chess there with one of my old friends. The more I looked, the more I saw that I had no choice but to get closer to Checkmate. With a bold move, I moved my queen forward.

It was at that moment that I felt a shadow above me. I recognized him.

:"it's Nice to see you again, Tiberias.

I said without looking up from the chess board. He wasn't a man who wanted to talk indirectly or make excuses, but I honestly didn't expect him to find me so soon.

:"Please come back. He makes so many excuses. He asked me to look for you everywhere. I couldn't lie to him that you were gone forever and I couldn't find you. But anyway...

He asked me to give you this letter."

I glanced at the scroll that Tiberias had pulled out from under his black cloak and handed to me. I accepted it and started reading:

"...the beauty of Jerusalem, my ruler, my padishah, my sultana, my y/n.

I wish now that instead of the smell of blood and dirt, I could smell your beautiful hair to revive this half-dead body. You are the light of my dark nights. I desperately ask you to come back to me for the last time.

I inevitably marched to the border of Kerak to prevent a w*ar. I am alone and the fear of losing Jerusalem does not leave me, but the fear of losing you is much worse than that. I still hope that you will come back and heal the wounds of my heart and soul like before."

("Baldwin iv of Jerusalem")

[hanzajesthanza]

one of the best parts of regis' character is his unwavering role as a protector of women and girls in particular.

from when he's introduced, one of his roles is to immediately assist the refugee women and children of their party:

‘(...) a physician may come in handy. We have women and children in the party. Among the stinking medicaments I can smell about you, would you have a remedy for blisters?’ ‘I ought to have something,’ the barber-surgeon said softly. ‘Glad to be of assistance. (...)’

and only decides to join their company after he has examined them and ensured that they have been treated well by the company:

‘And we, although you don’t know us at all, look like people you could travel with safely. Was one glance enough for you?’ ‘Two,’ the barber-surgeon replied with a faint smile. ‘One at the women you’re looking after. And the other at their children.’

then we have the 'pet the dog' moment of the horseshoe, in which he steps in, unrequired, to save the girl:

‘One moment,’ Emiel Regis said, placing a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. ‘Please withhold your prayers.’ The barber-surgeon walked over to the fire, bowed to the priest and the audience, then stooped rapidly and put his hand into the hot coals. The crowd screamed as one, Zoltan cursed and Milva dug her fingers into Geralt’s arm. Regis straightened up, calmly looked down at the white-hot horseshoe he was holding, and walked unhurriedly over to the priest. The priest took a step back, bumping into the peasants standing behind him. ‘This was the idea, if I’m not mistaken, your reverence.’ Regis said, holding up the horseshoe. ‘Baptism of fire? If so, I believe the divine judgement is unambiguous. The girl is innocent. (...)’

an act which geralt reflects on as honorable:

‘(...) He didn’t hesitate to act during that girl’s trial at the camp by the Chotla. Although he knew it would unmask him.’

and later, treats this same girl's burns, with gentleness and the best skill, using his powers for good:

Nearby, a young woman with an arm wrapped in none too clean rags was playing with two children on the sand. As soon as she raised her misty, blank eyes to him the Witcher recognised her. ‘We untied her from the wagon, which was already in flames,’ the dwarf explained. ‘It almost finished the way that priest wanted. You know, the one who was after her blood. She passed through a baptism of fire, nonetheless. The flames were licking at her, scorching her to the raw flesh. We dressed her wounds as well as we could. We covered her in lard, but it’s a bit messy. Barber-surgeon, if you would…?’ ‘Right away.’ When Regis tried to peel off the dressing the girl whimpered, retreating and covering her face with her good hand. Geralt approached to hold her still, but the vampire gestured him to stop. He looked deeply into the girl’s vacant eyes, and she immediately calmed down and relaxed. Her head drooped gently on her chest. She didn’t even flinch when Regis carefully peeled off the dirty rag and smeared an intense and strange smelling ointment on her burnt arm.

he forms a great friendship with milva, and is quite respectful to her. even when he gets a little short with dandelion, cahir, or geralt, his speaking to milva is always very patient:

‘We can solve this amicably,’ Regis said in a kind voice. ‘If I understand rightly, Miss Milva is reluctant to hand over her horse to a stranger…’

especially when he's explaining something to her, aware of how she depreciates herself for being uneducated:

‘I don’t understand fuck all,’ Milva announced calmly, brushing the hair from her forehead with an arrow tip. ‘I hear you’re talking about fairy-tales, and even I know fairy-tales, though I’m a foolish wench from the forest. So it astonishes me that you aren’t afraid of the sun, Regis. In fairy-tales sunlight burns a vampire to ash. Should I lump it together with the other fairy-tales?’ ‘Of course you should,’ Regis confirmed. ‘(...) We, higher vampires, have also moved some way from our primeval crypts. We have appropriated the day. The analogy is complete. Does this explanation satisfy you, my dear Milva?’

he provides care for her when it comes to her pregnancy,

‘Wholesome, regular meals,’ Regis began to list. ‘No stress. Sufficient sleep. And soon the end of horseback riding.’

‘(...) Milva’s condition, which is neither an illness nor a disability. The girl must, of course, take care of herself, but she is utterly healthy and physically fit. I would even say more than fit. The hormones—’ ‘Drop the patronising, superior tone,’ Geralt interrupted, ‘because it’s getting on my nerves.’

it is on his demand that geralt consoles her and lets her know she has a choice in the matter. ("total unanimity" = ensuring that milva is sure about her decision of abortion, and does not feel coerced by their rough circumstances)

‘What’s this all about then? Unanimity? Total agreement? Is that what you’re expecting?’ ‘You know very well what it’s about,’ the vampire answered. ‘You sense perfectly what ought to be done. But since you ask, I shall tell you. Yes, Geralt, that’s precisely what it’s about. Yes, that’s precisely what ought to be done. And no, it’s not me that’s expecting it.’

and in the end, saves her life when she miscarries.

‘You lugged me from that ferry and that bridge on your back,’ Milva began softly, ‘when infirmity robbed me of my legs. If there’d been a coward there, instead of you, he’d have left me and fled. There was no coward, though. Only you, Regis.’

he constantly stands up for her and looks out for her interests:

‘It turned out that Milva was well,’ said the Witcher pensively, ‘although she still had a bandage around her ribs. She remained in her chamber, though, and refused to leave, not wanting at any cost to put on the dress she’d been presented with. It looked as though there would be a protocolary scandal, but the omniscient Regis pacified the situation. After quoting a good dozen precedents he made the chamberlain bring a male outfit to the archer.’

and past her, he also gives respect to angouleme, respect that perhaps the little criminal snot doesn't deserve, even when she is disrespecting him, but he grants her respect anyhow.

he's familiar and amiable with them, coaxing them as his friends out of arguments:

‘Shut it, you brat! And don’t call me aunty!’ ‘Come, come,’ Regis interjected placatingly. ‘Girls, take it easy. Milva, Angoulême. Let there be concord. United we stand, divided we fall. (...)’

but nimue, you're saying, this is all just in broader service to humanity. and it's not a very high bar to cross, it's simply good deeds and friendship. what does it matter that these are women? that he's trustworthy and upstanding?

because the myth of the vampire involves a predatory aspect to women and children. something which he actually discusses and expertly dissects:

‘I left this myth until the end,’ Regis said, looking him up and down. ‘I would have tactfully passed over it, but since Geralt has challenged me, I won’t spare you. Humans are most powerfully influenced by fears with a sexual origin. The virgin fainting in the embrace of a vampire who drinks her blood. The young man falling prey to the vile practices of a female vampire running her lips over his body. That’s how you imagine it. Oral rape. Vampires paralyse their victims with fear and force them to have oral sex. (...) You have turned it into a baleful myth. You unconsciously dream of something like it, but shy away from offering it to your lovers. So it’s done for you by the mythological vampire, who as a result swells to become a fascinating symbol of evil.’

because we see 'the vampire that lives in this burial ground' get blamed for the slaughter of a woman and child, which he did not fucking do:

‘Who saw the vampire?’ Geralt asked, hushing his companions with a telling glance. ‘Why do you think you should be looking for him here?’ The peasants whispered among themselves. ‘No one saw him,’ the peasant in the felt cap finally admitted. ‘Or heard him. How can you see him when he flies at night, in the dark? How can you hear him when he flies on bat’s wings, without a sound?’ ‘We didn’t see the vampire,’ added another, ‘but there are signs of his ghastly practices. Ever since the moon’s been full, the fiend’s murdered one of our number every night. He’s already torn two people apart, ripped them to shreds. A woman and a stripling. Horrors and terrors! The vampire tore the poor wretches to ribbons and drank all their blood! What are we to do? Stand idly by for a third night?’

just another way he entirely, satisfyingly turns his trope upside-down, by being the very antithesis of predatory.

[targaryen-realness]

Witchling Chapter 5

Title: Witchling

Pairing: Osferth x Druidess!Reader

Warnings: Canon depiction of violence, mention of slavery, wounds and scars, magic, historical innacuracy (sorry medieval Scotland is not my specialty), talk about faith and christianity. The reader is fem but there is no physical description except for the fact she is a scot from the Highlands. Spoilers for season 3 of the Last Kingdom.

For this chapter: Blood, nudity, very detailed witchcraft ritual, pain and fainting

Summary: As they are riding away from Winchester, Osferth and Lord Uhtred’s group come across a mysterious woman. She needs help but the power within her is obvious. Captivated, Osferth hopes she will stay, but as Uhtred asks her to travel with them, he cannot help but wonder what is going on in his lord’s head.

Notes: I’m sorry for the delay. I have no excuse except being sad lmao. I hope you will enjoy this chapter ! The plot thickens haha 

Tags: @lugiastark @afro-hispwriter @aphroditesmoon @carlottalhn @dothrckis @mynameisbaby9 @dark-night-sky-99 @fussel9913 @yentroucnagol @noiralei

You could see as soon as you saw Uhtred the next morning that the lord was sick. When you saw him throw up the content of his stomach on the ground as you were riding, you knew you were going to have to act soon. On your way to the forest the other night you collected plenty of herbs that you were now preparing the best way you could from the back of your horse. You had boiled several, crushed others, and with your limited time and means you had succeeded in preparing some remedies. That’s how you rode closer to Uhtred’s horse, your hands holding several beverages. 

“You look terrible”

“Put one of the leaves under your tongue, the nausea will stop. But there’s not a lot I can do on top of a moving horse.”

“Put one of the leaves under your tongue, the nausea will stop. But there’s not a lot I can do on top of a moving horse.”

“Put one of the leaves under your tongue, the nausea will stop. But there’s not a lot I can do on top of a moving horse.”

He took the open bag with a shaking hand, not even strong enough to hold it. You got your horse as close as you could from his and grabbed his chin. 

“Open your mouth.” Your tone left no place for questions and as he did as you told, you placed the leaf in his mouth. 

“It does not taste good but in general the more it taste fool, the more efficient it is”

He nodded his head and you hold back your horse, letting him gain the leading position of the group once again. 

“Is he that bad?”

You turned your head around to see Finan and Osferth. Since the night you snapped at him, Finan had started to talk to you again, things were slowly going back to normal. 

“He is not good, that’s all I can say. He is weak and probably has fever. There’s not so much I can do as long as we are moving. 

-Should we not stop and rest? I am tired of the sight of my horse’s head, his hears in particular. 

-We need shelter and fire, boy. There’s no shelter here.

-We keep going, for a short time at least”

Uhtred’s voice was not more than a weak sound, and the whistling wind almost masked it. But no more than a couple of seconds after, you saw him sliding off his horse, hitting the ground. You jumped off your horse and almost run to him. 

“Uhtred? Do you hear me? 

-What’s happening? Is it his wound? 

-He is burning with fever. I need to look at his wound right now. If his blood is poisoned, then the fever will take him. 

-No. She has me.”

I made you cringe. You did not think it was magic this time, or at least not only magic. A bad wound that stayed uncared for could kill even the biggest warrior. 

“Jesus, he looks the color of a Scotsman’s arse. 

-Hey!

-Sorry.”

Finally, Uhtred was put on a cart, you sitting near him. You made him drink a lot of water, and chew on a couple of different herbs. The cut of his wound looked bad. You could see a yellowish liquid ooze off it, and the only thing you could do was put an ointment on it, wrap it in a clean cloth and pray to the gods that he would get better. 

“Finan!” He looked at you, his eyes wandering on his lord, still unconscious.

“Is he going to get better? 

-I hope so. But he is fighting two evils. His wound was looking bad, and she was not helping. 

-There is nothing we can do against her. 

-There is. I mean, at least I think it could help.”

You took your pendant from around your neck, and you almost felt naked without it. You hated this feeling. You knew the pendant was just a symbole, but it was an important one for you. It carried your energy, a part of the power it had store for a decade now. You put it in Finan’s hand. 

“Force it around her neck, she needs to have it on her. Make sure she does not throw it away.”

He looked at your face and the pendant back and forth a couple of times but ended up nodding. The screech that Skade let out as Finan and Sihtric forced the necklace around her neck made you smile. until you saw Uhtred jerk in his sleep. You could see the matching pendant you had made for him a while back, slipped out of his coat. You did not know why, but the absence of the weight of your own around your neck made your eyes water. You took Uhtred’s necklace in your hand and started praying. May the all powerful Lug help you in this battle, May his wisdom, and the one of the other gods help you through this trial. You sang for a bit, your voice too quite to be heard by anyone but Osferth, Finan and Sihtric. 

“He looks better already.

-I still think he looks like ash. 

-Let the magic do his thing, Finan.”

You returned to your horse after a while, your head still full of prayers. 

“What do you want to do next? 

-I cannot wait any longer. When we stop for the night, I will call for the gods, and pray they give me an answer.”

With that, you were left in silence, the reassuring presence of Osferth next to you. It had not been as awkward as you thought to wake up the next morning after what happened in the forest. Your lips were still tingly from the kisses you shared, and the first thing you had wanted when you opened your eyes was to do just that again. Of course you did not. You smiled at him, and you ate breakfast together in a weirdly comfortable silence. He held your hand after that, only holding the tip of your fingers, as if your palm touching would be too intimate. He even helped you climb on your horse. 

“What will you need?”, his voice was quiet, almost a whisper. 

You were taking a fur out of your bag with the intention of giving to Uhtred when he came to see you. He was standing tall, his torso covered by a leather protection, covered in fur himself to be protected from the cold.

“Some salt, a fire, and a knife.”, you answered simply. 

You did not know how to act when it came to magic. He told you it was not a problem for him, or at least that he did not see you as evil. You could not help yourself but doubt. You were going to do something that you used to do often, amongst your people, but you still were in enemy territory. You needed to remind yourself of it often, especially these past few days, as your heart seemed to fondle under the affection of the saxons here. People you were wary of, but still liked. 

“I will wait for the night to fall, and I just need to be left alone. I don’t know how long it will take but it needs to be done.”

He approached you, his hand, almost shyly, caressed your cheek. You leaned into his warm touch, smiling. 

“Osferth?

-Hm?

-Kiss me”

And he did, his lips were cold but gods, you loved this feeling. You grabbed his tunic and brought him closer to you. He moaned against your mouth and you felt it in your core. His voice, the way he whimpered, it did things to you. You loved it. 

“Y/n!”

You let Osferth go, and turned around to see Finan. He was smiling like a demon, as his eyes traveled from you to Osferth face. 

“What do you want? 

-Uhtred is awake and better.”

You nodded and before going you looked at the man behind you. His face was red an you knew it was not only from the cold. 

“Don’t let him give you a hard time okay?

-You’re asking something impossible”

You laughed before leaving his side, walking past Finan who was still smiling like a mad man. Uhtred was looking better indeed. Some color had returned to his cheeks and he was not laying down anymore. 

“How are you feeling? 

-Better, I think.”

He was not looking at you, his eyes lost in the distance. 

“Your wound was quite bad, I am going to put some more ointment on it after cleaning it better.”

You put another fur on him and asked him to lay down. As you were cleaning the blood and lymph, you noticed his expression. 

“Is it painfull? 

-No.

-Did something happen?”

He looked at you, took a deep breath and confessed:

“I saw something? 

-Something? 

-A ghost.”

You hummed and applied a new coat of the green paste on the clean flesh. 

“Someone I knew. Someone I fought with. 

-Who was it? 

-Leofric.”

You knew that name as Osferth had mentioned this man a couple of times. He was his uncle, a brave man from what you knew. 

“Osferth’s uncle? 

-Yes. 

-What did he tell you?”

The lord gulped and you knew it was not from the pressure you were putting on his injury. 

“That I was making a mistake. That my place was not amongst the danes, but with the saxons. That I was making his nephew a traitor.”

You put his furs back on, making sure he was warm. 

“Can I give you my opinion?”

You tossed a piece of wood back in the fire and returned by his side. 

“Go ahead. 

-I don’t think it was a ghost. You had a really high fever, those visions you had, I am not saying they are not real. Sometimes, the mind is trying to make you understand some hidden message. 

-Are you saying I am losing my mind. 

-Not at all. But maybe, you do not wish to leave your life as a saxon behind as much as you think you do. From what I understood. You are a child of two people. Forever, you will be tormented with this identity. It is your burden.”

You touched his forehead to see if his fever was returning. He did not answer you, but by seeing the look in his eyes, you could tell he had much to think. 

“I am going to prepare you something to eat, please drink a lot of water. I am performing the ritual tonight. Soon you will be rid of her.”

You turned around and ceased your blade. 

“But for that I need just a little something”

You had prepared a broth with the help of Osferth and as you were going to return to the lord’s side, he told you to stay here. He smiled and took the plate from your hand and left. You spent your remaining time sculpting little pieces of wood into ogham putting special care into them. Soon the sky was black and you were making your way to the forest. You passed by Skade and Finan was waiting for you there like you had asked. You had not asked Sihtric’s help, being a believer of the gods himself you had preferred not to involve him too much. 

“Do you really need it? 

-Yes. Just hold her down, I’ll take the blood”

To your surprise she had not fought back. She looked surprised at first but soon a wolfish grin took place on her pretty face. She then said something in a language you could not understand as you were cutting her palm open, collecting the fresh liquid into a bowl. You left without a word but not before taking a good look at her face. She did not think it would work, but you knew you would succeed. Tonight, you would have the answers you were looking for. You were feeling the heavy gaze of the one you were leaving behind as you walked away. In your hands, two bowls filled with blood. The cursed one, and the witch. 

You had already located a perfect spot. It was in the middle of a circle of grass where trees seemed to line up around. What took you the most time was to light up the fires. Four at equal distance from one another all around you, a final one in the center. You placed the two bowls in front of you and started taking off the clothes that covered your upper body and started. You plunged your pointer finger in the blood of Uthred first and drew symbols on your skin. It was mechanical, natural, like a second nature. You found comfort in this, in practicing your craft, in feeling the buzzing course of magic in your veins. You did the same with Skade’s blood. It was darker, thicker, and left a burning sensation on your skin. The fire seemed to burn brighter and get warmer with each word you whispered. Your hands thrown in the air, you were facing the sky. Your eyes were open but it was not the black arch of the night that you were seeing. No it was other. You were seeing something far away, something that no one could see at this very moment. 

“Lugh Samildanach, my lord”

You sang, your body moving to a silent rhythm. You sang until your throat was raw, until you mouth was dry, until your knees were bleeding from sinking in the earth. But where you were, there was no pain. You felt the burn before you saw it. Something in your back, like your skin was being branded with a red_hot iron. But once again you did not flinch. Not as your lord, his magnificence so close to you, was whispering things in your ear. 

You did not know when you fainted. You woke up under the sun. The fires were long gone and the cold had settled in your skin. You remembered what happened as you slowly raised from the grass. Your mind was foggy, every muscle in your body sores as if you had been trampled by horses. But you still had a smile on your face. You rinsed the blood on your arms and chest with the water you had brought and drunk the rest like you were severely dehydrated. You put your clothes back on, wincing when the fabric touched your upper back. You probably hurt yourself when you fell. You will ask someone to check it out back at the camp. You noted that you were surrounded by fog, the forest taking a strange blue hew. Before leaving you retrieved the two bowls. They were both empty, even though you knew they were almost full yesterday. You left without wondering about it too much, you knew better than to question the gods. You arrived at the camp to see everyone around a fire. You must look bad, because you saw the look on Finan’s face. Osferth stood up immediately and ran toward you. You almost collapsed in his arms, tired. 

“Are you hurt? What happened? 

-I have it.” you whispered, smiling at him. 

“What? 

-The answer. I have it.”

You closed your eyes and felt yourself falling. 

[marysunburn]

During his work at Xerath’s temple, Azir often gets hurt.

Sometimes in minor ways, such as his talon breaking and his hand getting crushed under a boulder.

Once, however, he’s particularly dizzy – he hasn’t eaten well, thirst is getting to him, the heat is cruel – and he falls down a long, long ledge, ending up against the stones and cutting his side deep.

For a minute he doesn’t even cry, everything hurts so much.

Xerath orders him to get up, calling to his pride, laughing at his pain… but it becomes quite clear that he cannot go back to work.

Xerath would love to choke him then and there. Instead he calls upon his own retainers. “Hood him and put him to sleep. I’ll handle his stupidity.”

Azir wakes up in what feels like a bed of straw, with fabric woven around his side and searing pain all over his body. He cannot see, but he hears someone hum. He recognizes that voice, from long ago.

“…rath?”

“It’s my lord to you, foolish wretch. Stay down. You aren’t to move until you’re fit to go to work.”

Azir’s hands have been bound to the stone, his ankles fettered together, and Xerath hovers above him. An ointment drips on the wounded side: it’s cheap and burns like a jellyfish, but it helps cauterize. Azir winces and whines: a part of him wishes he’d not be healed if he’s to suffer further.

No, no… Imperial pride cannot be stifled.

“Why are you healing me?”

“Did I give you permission to speak?”

Azir groans back in place, massaging the sore part. He doesn’t get food and only licks scarce water… yet the idea of his torturer healing him doesn’t leave his head. Azir hates Xerath, but not all the Xerath. And he’d cling to anything, any desperate hope, for the pain to end.

At some point he hears his voice again.

“I remember the first time I healed you.”

This time Azir remembers he’s not to speak unless summoned, and stays quiet. If he kept the hood loose it means he wants him to hear.

“You must have been around ten at best. You fell from a horse, and it dragged you all the way up the dune. How you wept… poor thing. You wouldn’t ever let me go.”

Through the pain, Azir summons the memory. Xerath smiled so sweetly, back then: he wonders what that gentle kid would think of… of what he’s become now.

“I’d have loved to keep holding onto you…” Xerath continues. “There, feeling your warmth, wiping your tears, basking in your light back then. Why did you have to ruin it all, Azir?”

“…I loved you like a brother.”

“You only love yourself, Azir. Now don’t speak anymore, or the pain won’t stop.”

[johaneequestrian]

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[rjalker]

King Bademagu: please you must let me find the best healers in the world for you and you of course have to rest for days before you can fight!!!! Also I'll give you the best arms and horse ever to exist!!!

Lancelot, whose hands, feet, and knees are deeply cut and bleeding profusely: Nah, I'm good. We don't need to waste any time.

"Friend, you must suffer hardship to obtain her," he replies; "and you are sorely wounded, as I see by the wounds and the flowing blood. You will not find him who brought her hither so generous as to give her up without a struggle; but you must tarry, and have your wounds cared for until they are completely healed. I will give you some of 'the three Marys' ointment, and something still better, if it can be found, for I am very solicitous about your comfort and your recovery. And the Queen is so confined that no mortal man has access to her—not even my son, who brought her here with him and who resents such treatment, for never was a man so beside himself and so desperate as he. But I am well disposed toward you, and will gladly give you, so help me God, all of which you stand in need. My son himself will not have such good arms but that I will give you some that are just as good, and a horse, too, such as you will need, though my son will be angry with me. Despite the feelings of any one, I will protect you against all men. You will have no cause to fear any one excepting him who brought the Queen here. No man ever menaced another as I have menaced him, and I came near driving him from my land, in my displeasure because he will not surrender her to you. To be sure, he is my son; but feel no concern, for unless he defeats you in battle, he can never do you the slightest harm against my will."

"Sire," he says, "I thank you. But I am losing time here which I do not wish to waste. I have no cause to complain, and have no wound which is paining me. Take me where I can find him; for with such arms as I have, I am ready to divert myself by giving and receiving blows."

[talesofsonicasura]

Saiyuki Sun Wukong with a Game Designer s/o

I began watching Saiyuki Journey West playthrough and I got hooked to the characters mainly it's iteration of Sun Wukong. Now this headcanon that doesn't have any crossover elements. Why? Well... I want to try an experiment with alternative paths like Nevada's Oasis.

You are also a normal human with the only thing special being you got medical knowledge and you own a shotgun. This is a slow burn. This can be read as gender neutral or preferred gender.

Only this type of bullshit would happen to you. You were a simple game designer who made small Indie or fan games from time to time. It wasn't nothing special but it paid the bills and at least enjoyable.

Now you live in a fairly big house with some distance from the neighborhood so no one saw the most ludicrous thing in your yard.

A giant red ape at least three times your size adorned with gold jewelry in his(?) hair, wrists, and ankles. Big fella was out like a light and covered with nasty wounds.

Sure you patched up any hurt stray animal that would wander in your yard but nothing this BIG. Yet the animal lover in your heart told ya to help the poor fella.

So you gathered all the ointment and bandages in the house then began treating the injured giant ape. It looked like he been through hell from the large gashes and were those electrical burns?!

At least halfway through tending his injuries did you meet the fiery amber eyes of the beast than just the naturally sharp tusks that protrude from the lower jaw. Or that the ape could talk.

"Where am I? A mortal?" From the masculinity in the deep husky, rugged and growlish voice, this ape being male had been confirmed.

You told the big guy who you were but his name had thrown your world upside down. Motherfucking Sun Wukong is in your backyard. The Monkey King and Great Sage Equal To Heaven from China's most influential story.

One, he's depicted as a four ft tall stone monkey not an ape big enough to be a prototype King Kong. Two, he's supposed to be on Mount Huagao. And three, he's fucking real. You dealt with weird shit but not horse piss like this.

Oh and apparently he can shrink into a human size man... wait...nope, the Monkey King just poofed back into ginger Donkey Kong. Injured AND magic on the fritz. Guess he can't take a human form for who knows how long.

Looks like you were going to house a 15 ft Great Ape. Thankfully your garage was big enough for Sun Wukong to sleep in. The big tree in your backyard being sturdy and the foliage thick enough for the Monkey King to hang in without getting seen. And your doorways were wider than the normal.

Why you say that? Cause this monkey likes to wander throughout your house. One second you are programming and the next he's looking over your shoulder.

Pretty reasonable since he's from 14th century China and the current year is 2022. So the questions about things like the tv, your work and such were answered with the best of your ability.

Until his magic is properly working again, you had to do certain things Sun Wukong couldn't as his hands and fingers were too big. Been awhile since you read aloud to someone.

The Monkey King did try to make himself useful around the house since he didn't want to be a freeloader. Moving heavy objects about, help forage extra food(you didn't have enough money to buy a ton of groceries), and teach you martial arts.

Was your life ever going to return to normal? Probably never. But as you watched a movie with Sun Wukong's large frame curled around ya, the strangeness isn't something you would ever take for granted.

And that's it. The Were concept of Saiyuki Journey West is really interesting. Sun Wukong's true form in this iteration being a giant monkey called the Great Ape. An incredible twist on the character in both design and portrayal.

I'm still a bit rusty for not writing so long but I hope this came out good. Until next time folks, I'll see you soon. Here's Saiyuki Sun Wukong, human form and true form.

[ladyghita]

margot robbie . cis-female . she/her . wasn’t that ilyana ghita walking the palace grounds ? it’s nice to see the lady of wenchika/healer out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they’re notoriously secretive, whilst also managing to be quite perceptive. the twenty-nine year old is eager to find out who exactly is behind the killings from what’s being said at court. i heard that they themselves are vrajiit ( abjuration + chronokinesis ). it’s funny, whenever i think of them, i think of midnight strikes and a raven soars, an enigma in a hooded cloak, life is a chess board but we are no pawn. great to see the high-priestess around, isn’t it ?

CHARACTER STATS:

FULL NAME: Lady Ilyana Katrijn Ghita.

AGE: Twenty-nine.

BIRTHDAY: 01 January 121 a.d.

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis-female (she/her).

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual.

VRAJIT: Yes, Abjuration and Chronokinesis.

RELIGION: Curious about the Old Gods.

KINGDOM: Wenchinka, Walochnia.

THREE POSITIVE TRAITS: Perceptive, Ambitious, Clever

THREE NEGATIVE TRAITS: Secretive, Selfish, Calculating

CHARACTER INSPIRATIONS: Leliana (Dragon Age: Inquisition), Cirilla of Cintra (The Witcher), Tissaia de Vries (The Witcher), Prudence Night (Sabrina), Jean Grey (X-Men), Yennefer of Vengerberg (The Witcher), Elizabeth Bennet (Pride and Prejudice), Elizabeth Swann (Pirates of the Caribbean), Addison Montgomery (Greys Anatomy).

MBTI: ENTJ

EIGHT TV TROPES: Defrosting Ice Queen, Disproportionate Retribution, Terror Hero, Mystical White Hair, Byronic Hero, The Baroness, Badass Cape, Guile Heroine

PHYSICAL INFORMATION

HEIGHT: 5′5″

EYE COLOUR: Blue

HAIR COLOUR + STYLE: White-blonde, typically in a braid or thrown back over her shoulder, long-ish.

CLOTHING STYLE: Typical style features a cloak (she has several in different colours) over a gown. Though she typically wears the house colours, she has been known to wear both white and black.

EXTRAS

tw death, loss, sickness.

- abjuration was discovered by her birth mother before ilyana would ever know. the family were weather-worn and poverty stricken, a number amongst many of wenchinka's hungry. their waning bodies a glint in a vulture's eye. no ointment could curb the edge, nor could it heal the lesions which bore holes into the flesh. but still, they held their daughter, weeping on their knees at the rot which had formed within this kingdom. as they pleaded with the gods of old, their babe curled within their hold, the wounds began to heal and a steady glow illuminated from the blue eyes of ilyana. out of fear for what could happen, ilyana's mother fled to the castle and begged for their protection. they took her child in exchange from a coin-filled purse, granting the child nobility and her birth mother peace of mind.

- abjuration (the ability to make physical or magical barriers, banishment, regeneration, healing, augmentation) is also the only power she is privy to as of yet. whilst ilyana also possesses chronokinesis (the ability to manipulate time, including time travel at more advanced levels), this remains undiscovered and has the potential to be unearthed during something monumental (future plot perhaps???).

- as a child, ilyana befriended the son of a family beyond the confines of the castle - a boy of no noble birth but a heart far greater. though he was believed to be vrajit, he was often found wielding a sword within the far corner of the marketplace; sinking the blade into a makeshift dummy. she shadowed him always, sneaking out at the first sight of dawn to play and fight in unison. he taught her the importance of wielding swords and shooting arrows - how to survive well beyond the power she harboured. as they grew, their roles switched and he shadowed her in return; watching in awe as she threw an ale back quicker, shot an arrow swifter and rode a horse faster just to best him. when the battlefield called, they remained inseparable and only ever parted ways when sent to differing posts. but this decision, to send the two to opposing lines, was ultimately costly. she believes she felt it before she knew; the final blow which sent her friend to his knees, a sword striking straight through his sternum. by the time she had reached him, he had long since passed, curled atop soil in a state far more childlike than the man he had since grown into. in return, ilyana had now discovered the harsh truth of her ability: it could not wake the dead.

- a well-known trait of ilyana's is the selfishness she possesses, though it is not as textbook as it may originally seem. she cares deeply for the people of wenchinka, a circumstance which could one day be her downfall, and she will insist on doing whatever she can to better the lives of those within the nation. whether it be ensuring her acts of service to walochnia are not so freely gifted, opting to gather useful intel or manipulating the tactical decisions made by those from neighbouring nations, ilyana will prioritise wenchinka above all else.

- when dusk falls and the night sets in, ilyana is typically found on horseback, adorned in her cloak, pursuing towards nearby infirmaries. she is frequently considered a raven of sorts, as she tends to be ushered towards those who are near their end - her power some holy miracle that forces death to be patient. though this is an act which remains unspoken amongst her family, there are few who have knowledge of lady ghita's choice - whether it be a patient or those she works alongside. for her safety and the safety of those within walochnia, they ensure it remains a secret.

[horsentale]

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[basilly]

purpled gets hurt || ingameau!p!purpled x reader

. request:  i would love to see an in game fic(if you write those)with purpled, preferably platonic. where maybe he gets hurt(if in games, then he gets hurt playing bedwars), and it worries the reader really bad so he comforts them and assures them he’s ok. maybe he makes fun of them after too.

. hi lovey! for this one the preface is just in-game, not necessarily dreamsmp, but he went to go practice 

. pronouns: they/them

Picking up your sword and putting it into your sheath, you get ready for the trek to the village. You had a small list of ingredients that you needed from the village market, wanting to make some soup and pumpkin pie. Your horse was tied up out front, prepared for the journey.

Darting from side to side, you quickly make your way through the market, ingredients in hand. The villagers were making small mumbles amongst themselves, discussing deals and bargaining. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a small stand with a blue and white awning, displaying a ton of small sparkly purple potions. 

“Hello? Are you interested in them? They’re new healing potions, recently approved, for any small cuts, burns, or injuries.”

Usually these stands were sketchy, but you did see a genuine certificate of approval, and there was one more comment that sold you.

“I’m sorry who’s your producer?” “These come from the snowy hills, I think they’re called SBI?” “I’ll take two.”

Stuffing the potions into your inventory, you unwind your horse from it’s post fence outside the market and start your tread home. 

Humming a small tune, you r house came into view. Oddly enough, there was a purple bit at your door you couldn’t make out. The closer you got, the fuzziness faded, revealing the wounded figure of your best friend, Purpled. Eyes widening, you command your horse to go faster, quickly speeding up to your door.  He was all dusty and clutching his left side, appearing to have a large slash on his hip. 

“Purpled! What happened?” He smiles, very briefly and weakly. “Hey y/n- mind opening this door for me? I’ve been knocking for hours but no one’s home” “You idiot- I was at market, let me hurry and put my horse away.”

Once in your home, you get him down on your couch, getting all the necessary healing potions and making stew. Luckily you had just bought the ingredients for the stew.

“Are you going to tell me how this happened or am I going to have to guess?” “I was just practicing bedwars- I gotta keep my title as bedwars king, it’s just a small cut” “Small cut?? Have you seen the side of your body?” “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

Quickly you apply healing potions to his wound, even opting to try out that new one you had bought from the market today. To your surprise, it worked very well, cleaning out the blood and turning into an ointment. You then quickly bandaged it up, Purpled wincing slightly.  

“You could have gotten really hurt- why did you go without at least letting me know, what happened to the healing spells and potions I gave to you for emergencies?” “Uh-” “That’s all you have to say?” “I’m sorry- I just really wanted to practice and I didn’t mean to worry you, I ran out and didn’t even realize.” “Don’t scare me next time” “Hey at least I know my amazing, stunning, most absolute best friend will always-” “Okay mister, stop trying to butter me up, I’m still mad at you.” “Darn, it was worth a shot. But look- I’m okay now, thanks to you, and I would never die without you” “You had me so worried- what would I do without you”

At this point you had teared up a little bit. The two of you had stuck together for so long, through ups and downs, you couldn’t imagine living your life without him. He pulled you into a light hug, as much as he could without getting hurt.

“I’m sorry again, but hey look at me I’m not dead yet am i?” “Not the time for sarcasm” -_- “Look at youu so worried for me” “Well of course! What am I supposed to do when my best friend shows up at my door injured and wounded” “Well- true.” “Stupid” “Idiot” “I hate you” “No you dont” “*sigh* you’re right”

an: i need to polish up on my ingame!aus lol, i hope this one worked up to what you wanted!

surprise post! sry for having the request in my inbox for so long

taglist: @kai-was-here @kutozume @xoxothornbudoxox @just-barely-alive

[dapandapod]

Lucky

A piece of Lambden for the Bog Fluff Battle! On Ao3 Here!  Just a little bit of Aiden with a hurt leg and Lambert bringing him to Kaer Morhen over the winter to keep him close  protect him. :) 8. Falling asleep mid conversation 27. First time meeting parent(s)/family

It has been a long week. Lambert has been pushing them to get to Kaer Morhen before the pass closes. They started too late, weather now unpredictable and full of dangers.

Aiden has had a hard time keeping up, still recovering from a nasty cut in his thigh and it’s taking more out of him to ride than usual. Lambert feels a little bad about it, but if they don’t want to get caught in yet another snowstorm and then have to turn back, they have to keep their pace.

Lucky that they actually got horses this time around. Last time Lambert made the trek someone decided to steal his horse as he was taking a contract. 

Fucking bastards.

Lambert made sure no one even got close to the horses this time around. Not making that mistake again. This is taking enough time as it is.

Bringing Aiden to the keep is, well. Not risky, but not his best idea either, probably. For some reason, Vesemir has a thing against the cat witchers. The combination of finding a Cat friend (that he probably likes a little too much) and the promise of pissing Vesemir the fuck off is too good to resist. And taking into consideration that Aiden actually is hurt and could use a safe place to recover, there is simply no discussing it.

It is cold as shit, and when they camp for the night in an abandoned shepherd's hut they have to cuddle close together. Lambert will never admit how much he enjoys being close to Aiden. Not to anyone, least of all Aiden. He falls asleep while watching Aiden, hair falling into his face, mouth hanging slightly open as he snores.

In the morning Aiden's leg is stiff.

“Shut up, cat, and let me do it,” Lambert says, taking out a jar of ointment from his bag that he definitely didn’t pick up especially for Aiden. “We'll lose precious time if you're too sore to ride.”

Yeah, Lambert. Good cover. But Aiden doesn’t argue, he just pulls down his pants and presents his thigh. There might be a twinkle in his eye that makes Lambert's stomach flip, and Lambert ignores it with an angry huff. Like one does while hiding a crush.

He massages the ointment to the wound, carefully, and does not react when Aiden does breathy little sounds, thank you very much. Not until he’s done anyway.

“Felt good, kitty?” He smirks when Aiden is fastening his belt again. Aiden doesn’t miss a beat however, and winks back at him.

“Your hands always feel good on me, Lamb.”

Yep, that is all it takes for Lambert to turn his back and flee into all the things that have to be done. He is not blushing, it’s the cold. Leave off.

They are closing in on Kaer Morhen. Only another day or so, and they will be there. Lambert recognizes hunting trails and running tracks as they pass. But it’s getting late and Aiden is swaying in the saddle. So Lambert leads them towards a small cave that he found once and padded with moss. Hopefully there won’t be other inhabitants, but one never knows.

Lambert swiftly slides off his horse, but Aiden is still sitting in his saddle.

“You ok there, kitty cat?” Lambert asks, walking over and placing a hand on Aidens thigh. Aiden blinks blearily down at him and then looks around.

“Oh. We stopped.”

“Yeah. Come on down from there. I’ll catch you.”

It says a lot on how tired Aiden is when he just nods without further comment, lifting his leg over the saddle and sliding down into Lambert's open arms. He grunts when his feet catch the ground, despite Lambert bracing him.

“Stay here for a second?” Lambert says. “I’ll just tend to the horses and then we’ll get you inside and see to that leg.”

“Always took you for a caveman,” Aiden teases, and yawns before he can stop it. They are still standing close, so Lambert gets a face full of bad breath. He flicks his forehead in revenge, and then manhandles Aiden out of the way so he can remove bags and gear. It’s not completely safe, not even this close to the keep, so he will have to keep an eye out for the horses during the night.

As soon as the horses are settled, they make their way inside the cave.

“We really should put some more ointment on that.” Lambert comments when he sees how badly Aiden is limping.

“If you want to put your hands on me, Lamb, you only need to ask.” Aiden says, but it's sleepy and mumbled and utterly adorable.

“Alright. Aiden, let me put my hands on you.” Lambert snarks back, and Aiden blinks slowly at him in surprise.

“Drop your pants, kitty.” Oh yeah, that’s a blush. He seems to be unable to find words, opening and closing his mouth again, but he is doing as he’s told.

Something warm flutters inside Lambert, and he flicks Aiden's forehead again.

“Idiot,” he says and makes Aiden sit down so he can apply the ointment.

It’s a silent affair. Lambert massages and pats it in around the injury, mindful of the raw scar that is still there. As soon as he is done, he wipes his hands and settles so he can see out of the cave, having a look out for dangers. Aiden is tucked in next to him, wrapped in their blankets and furs. Lambert snags just the one, Aiden's body next to his helping plenty to keep his temperature up.

“I never said thank you.” Aiden says suddenly.

“For what?”

“If you hadn’t been there, I probably would have stayed the winter in some cave in the south.”

“Ah yes, which is very different from the cave we are in now in the north.”

“Yes, very different. You’re here.” Aiden mumbles, words a little slurred. Aiden allowing himself to be this vulnerable with Lambert around is… it makes Lambert want to hold him close, protect him from the world. He is not very used to that feeling.

“You’re welcome, kitty. You are lucky I'm the best friend there is,” Lambert says, trying to sound cocky. But it’s hard.

Aiden yawns again and suddenly there is an arm thrown over his legs and a forehead pressed into his hip.

“You really are,” Aiden says and then he is gone. Fast asleep, mouth hanging open like usual and hair all over his face.

Lambert looks down on him, and allows himself a moment of weakness. He pulls the hair out from Aidens face and tucks it behind his ear.

Something he’s been wanting to do since the first night he saw the other witcher asleep in all his messy glory.

Aiden's arm tightens around him and he cuddles a little closer. Lambert smiles and looks out into the darkness, preparing to meditate during the night. It’s peaceful, Aiden's snoring and the sound of the horses. Calm settles in him, and he feels himself sinking into it.

Kaer Morhen is every bit the ruin he remembers it to be. An echo of its grand self, walls long since broken and crumbled. Rats scurry here and there, making excellent target practice for the little princess that recently has taken up residence in their keep, along with her caretakers.

“Princess!” Lambert yells when she sees him, jumping from a high wall and into his arms without a trace of fear.

“Manchild!” she squeaks back when he hugs her close and spins her. That is a new insult.

“OI ESKEL! WHAT ARE YOU TEACHING THE CHILD!” he yells up the wall, and indeed, Eskel's head poke out with that hideous grin of his.

“Prefer manbaby? We can do that!” He yells back down and Lambert flips him off.

“Ooh, look what the cat dragged in!” Another voice pipes up and Jaskier's head appears next to Eskel.

“Bard!” Aiden exclaims, and Jaskier does the same fearless jump into his arms as Ciri did. The fuck?!

Geralt darts out when Jaskier jumps, for an entire second scared that his bard has fallen to his death, but no.

“Oh. It’s you,” He says and returns to whatever he was doing up there.

“You know each other?” Lambert asks, feeling like he is missing something important here.

“Who doesn’t know Aiden?" Eskel says back, and alright, Lambert did not expect that. Aiden winks at him and puts the stupid bard down.

That night, Vesemir insists that he and Aiden share a room. He knows this Cat, he says, and he doesn't trust him further than he can toss. Which in itself is an insult, because apparently Lambert is how far Vesemir can toss. Meaning very much out of sight on the other end of the keep.

They at least get a big bed, even if it is only one. Jaskier smirks big time when he learns what room and where and does waggly eyebrows at him every chance he gets.

Fucking bard.

As soon as they are alone, Lambert shoves the little jar of ointment in Aidens hands.

“Massage your wound,” He says, words short and clipped. He can’t put the finger on why he is angry, but he is seething. He bustles about, unpacking his bags and claiming whatever space he can before Aiden can put his paws on it, as he usually does whenever they have shared a room.

“Not helping me today?” Aiden asks, a curiously blank expression on his face.

“No?” Lambert replies, sorting his clean socks from the dirty ones. Coming home from travels always means laundry. “You seemed to be walking just fine today. And awake enough to do it yourself.”

Aiden is silent until Lambert turns to look at him.

“What?” He mutters, debating whether or not he should toss the dirty sock in Aiden's face. The face that everyone in this fucking keep seems to know somehow.

“Why are you angry?” Aiden asks, fiddling with the jar in his hands.

“I'm not.” Lambert lies, turning back to his laundry.

“Is.. is this because of what I said the other night?”

“No.”

“No? Then is it because I hugged the bard?”

“No,” Lambert says through clenched teeth, and alright, maybe he is. Aiden seems to notice, and there is a shuffling behind him, and then Aiden is slumping against Lambert, back to back.

“I have a confession,” Aiden mumbles, leaning his head back against Lambert's shoulder. It’s warm, comfortable, and it pisses Lambert off all the more that he feels that way.

“Please tell me you didn’t fuck the bard.”

“What? No! Geralt would have killed me if I even looked that way!” Aiden huffs, and well, fair. But is that the only protest he has about it? A fear for his life?

“Listen. I… I might have been nervous.”

“About what?”

“About meeting your family. It’s a big deal.”

“What do you mean?” Why does that sound, well. Like they are together? It puts a little spark in Lambert's stomach, chasing away that ugly anger.

“Of course I didn’t know when you would invite me. But I knew you would eventually. And I, uhm- I wanted them to like me.”

Aiden turns his head so his forehead rests against the back of Lambert's head. Lambert lets the socks drop to the floor, putting his hands on his thighs.

“Aiden.”

“I know.”

But does he? Does he really? Lambert wants to turn around and look at him, wants to figure out those cryptic words.

“I really am lucky.” Aiden says after a moment. “To have you in my life, I mean.” “Why are you sweet talking me, kittycat?”

“Maybe I want you to turn around and kiss me? And stop throwing a fit because you are jealous?”

“I’m not jealous.” Lambert protests, but he turns around and just does that.

Aiden isn’t smiling when Lambert turns. Just looking at him, that stupid wild hair of his all over his face. Lambert tucks a lock behind his ear, just like before, and kisses him.

A soft drag of lips, lazy nips and licks like they have done nothing else in all their years together.

When they part, Lambert strokes a thumb over Aiden's cheek, still looking at those lips. Maybe he should lean in, kiss him more.

“Tell me again how lucky you are to have me in your life.” Lambert smirks, noticing the blush on Aiden's cheeks. Witchers can’t blush, bullshit. “And this time, no falling asleep on me.”

“Aww, I was planning to use you as a pillow!”

“Brat.”

Some hours before daybreak, Lambert wakes up with a start. Across his chest lays Aiden, startled awake by Lambert.

“Wait. Kittycat. Are you the reason Vesemir dislikes cat witchers?!”

“Uhm… Look. There was this incident with an egg…..”

[queenoftheworldisdead]

Blood of the King

Chapter 2 Warning: 18 + only, character death, slow dark burn, character death, dark theme abortion is talked about in previous and future chapters Note: this is another self indulgence piece for me. this is so boring because i cant do a quick transition. tried hard to whittle it down.  Any critiques are WELCOME. Summery: Loki has a plan to be King. Dark Loki x Black Reader, Royal AU

👑

After you depart from the Prince, his man took you below deck. The large cold compartment containing no windows. The little light it did offer came from various cracks in the ceiling.

When he left you alone you crumple to your knees, crying as the shock of all the events wash over you.

Your mother dead, your kingdom gone and you were sure the Prince was bringing you before the High Church. Your stomach turns and knots as you fret, while the ships rocking added to your growing nausea. What you had in your stomach found its way on the floor as you try to steady yourself against a pillar.

👑

You had never been to sea and if you lived you would never step foot on such a vessel again. The days and nights melt together as there was no way to tell between the two. While the silence left you with only your running thoughts as company. Your mouth grew dry and your body weak, the longer you stay kept in the darkened room.

When the door opened you had little energy to move, only meekly shying behind the pillar as the prince's man steps inside.

He said nothing only placing a bowl down with a leather sack, your stomach ached for whatever the contents. Along side it he also placed a ball of bunched up fabric before standing. "Drink and eat then change." Was all that he spoke before leaving you alone again. Weakly you hobble to what he left you.

The gruel filled you, but did not stay down. While the water quenched the desert in you throat. Wiping your hands and mouth as clean as you could you gently shake the fabric. You lay out a dress and apron carefully, setting it far from the sick you expelled.

You undress as fast as you can manage. The letter tumbling out and you ponder its contents as you stare at it on the floor.

The new garments more conservative than your kingdoms and fairly loose. King Stark preferred more skin on his slave's garments, so you wonder if the High church had a hand in the design.

The head dress covers your hair, and without mirror you configure it the best you can. The neckline of the dress came high, the sleeves touch your wrists, the hem sweeps the floor, and the new apron cinched in your baggy sides.

👑

Thankfully when he returned you were decent. "Follow me."  Motioning you to come forth, your legs felt weak as you follow behind him. Your hands clasp together and your heart pounds as you ready yourself for what is to come.

After days of darkness your eyes ache at the first burst of light. Ascending into the blinding sun behind the man, you shield your eyes and try to keep pace. Once your vision clears you quietly gawked at the scenery. Thickets of trees and mountains stood tall in the far distance with a massive castle nestled between. The vast greenery was unlike your homes, and much too cold. The freezing air bled through your clothes, making you more thankful for the conservative dress.

Your heart sank once you reach the plank. The sight of the  small fleet of armored men on horses had brought your mind back to the church. Though the two carts behind them seemed too fancy for a prisoners exhibition.

As you descended the plank the distinct voice of the prince caught your ear, along with a chorus of foot steps. You fought the urge to look back continuing on with the nameless man as he opened the door to the first carriage, urging you wordlessly to go inside.

You sat anxious as strangers crowded inside and to your relief the prince didn’t follow them. A signal was called, starting the journey beyond. Your eyes shifted between the strangers all dressed in dark colors with hints of deep green. You looked at your own garb, and noticed yours was starkly different.

They stayed silent, not even chatting amongst them, a reoccurring them as of late. The prince commanded silents and order to a frightening degree. Exhaustion bled through your bones as their silence mixed with the sway of the bumpy terrain. The days spent on the boat you found little sleep as you mourned for your mother and despaired about your fate.

You fought fruitlessly to keep your eyes open, but slowly slipped into a heavy slumber. It was the deepest sleep you found in days, but the piece did not last as a thunderous bashing jolted you awake. Frantically you look around to find yourself alone.

Where was everyone? Were you dreaming all along? Had you slept walked into the stables? The door opened to the cart revealing yet another stranger, tolling away at his task of inspecting and cleaning the carriage.

He spied you. "Don't be sneaking about napping in our carriages." His accent thick as he spat at you. "Get on before we both are forced to suffer."

Cautiously you do as your told, exiting the carriage. More men busied themselves with the horse while others scrubbed the outer carriage, keeping it pristine. You were indeed in a stable, but not that of your countries. You felt lost in a new world, wondering listless as people move to and fro unconcerned or bothered by your presence. All acting as if their countrymen had not burned your kingdom to the ground.

👑

"Hey" a high pitch shout catches your attention, you froze as the source ran toward you. Your heart beat sped up the closer she came.

"Healer please hurry! We need all hands" the healthy woman with rose rounded cheeks pants at you. She matched Loki's description, you look around as if someone else would give you confirmation, but there was none. Unsure you dig in your apron, palming the letter. If you were wrong what would happen ? Swallowing thickly before shoving it at her.

She eyes it curiously then took it, opening it. You wait slightly surprised that she understood the scribbles upon the page. Her cheeks turn pale before she balls up the letter, stashing it in her own apron. "Right then. As I said all hands" She sounded shaken and it did not help set you at ease. What had the prince placed in such a small letter? You stiffen when she hooks your arm, leading you through the massive area. You bristle when shouting, cheers and rowdiness grow louder as a crowd appear in the distance.

She didn't stop once nearing them, only shoving past with you in toe. You flinch as a chorus of boos and projectiles flew through the air. Following their trajectory you find more armored soldiers with a man in chains.  

It was as if the world fell quiet once your eyes recognize their prisoner. Your king, draped in chains, battered and bruised. The soldiers force him along, ascending the stairs to a stage, while your guide pulls you off to a tent built next to it.

As they pelt him, he takes it in stride. Barking and cursing back defiantly on the stage. By the luck of the gods King Stark's eyes found you amongst the chaos. Your heart and stomach sink to the floor as he follows your movements and you his. Soldiers surround him forcing him down before a stump set in the middle of the stage. He fought furiously as they forced him on his knees, kicking and punching until he fell. King Stark's face was painted red with blood and visibly dazed from the assault.

"All right I will leave you to it. I must find the others" she explains before leaving you at the entrance of the tent.

👑

The sight inside of the tent was maddening. Dried blood stained the rags they wore, expose flesh, and bone had your stomach tightening. Some parts you were sure needed to be removed due to their rancidness and discoloration. The prince greatly overestimated your medical expertise.

You felt light headed while others dress like you move without hesitation. You do your best to mimic their movements without acting suspicious. Did he only want you as a healer? Were you kidnapped just to be a slave for a different king?

You fill your arms with wrappings, a grinding bowl and herbs you were the most familiar with. Gravitating toward the mouth of the tent to a man sat closest to the opening. Thankfully it looked like he only needed cleaning and redoing of his bindings.

Cleaning him, he sat silently watching the stage, unbothered by you. Slyly you watch along with him as you work slowly, hoping he didn't find it strange.

The tent sat close to the stage allowing for a side view. The crowd burst into joyful cheers as a mountain of a man with golden hair steps up on to the stage. His smile was bright even from here, raising his hands in the air the people quiet themselves.

"We have conquered!" The crowd erupt again. You yelped when the men in the tent cheer along with the crowd. "Their kingdom now ours." He kicked Stark in the ribs as he stayed positioned hunched over.

"A payment for a sour bargain" He laughed as your king spit blood, barley able to move. The tall blonde commanded the crowd, they adored him. He reminded you of King Stark in a way.

The golden mane man lifted his steel from it sheathed to the delight of the crowd. Their Kings sword came down swiftly and stuck in the stump. Resting at an odd angle, while your kings body slipped to the ground.

Stark's head rolled and bounced upon the stage, before he grabbed it by its hair. Showing it to the crowd as Stark's blood trickled from it.

"Do you think you have wrapped me enough healer?" The soldier brought you back to your surroundings.

"Sorry" you whispered as your hands tremble while you knot it.

Moving from him you search for another with similar wounds, until another healer asked for your assistance. You nearly vomit at the task of picking magnets from a wound, while she prepared an ointment.

When you finished you realized the crowd had gone and the tent had thinned. "Good work ladies" the woman who brought you here announced loudly in the tent. "Our king is proud of you all. Finish up and come to the hall for the feast."

👑

[abbysfrenchbraid]

Kissed by a Wolf - Chapter 3

Masterlist  /  Playlist for reading in this chapter, the reader is fighting an infection and making a furry friend.

CW for phsyical injury, bodily fluids, extreme pain, loss of consciousness and being pinned down by someone (this sounds terrible but I promise it gets more fluffy halfway through!)

This beautiful screencap of Valka was shared in our discord and I don’t know who took it, please let me know if you know the artist so I can credit them and check out their other work!

Healing

You woke up crying, the pain in your cheek threatening to split your head in half. Your cheek was wet from your tears and sticky from the wound that had been seeping all night. Eda stirred next to you and you both stared at each other in utter horror. William’s daughter looked like a corpse. Her cheeks and eyes had sunken deep into her skull and her face was a greyish color. You probably didn’t look any better, if her shock was any indication. 

The cell opened and you got your first round of water and bread for the day. The man feeding you gave you a pitiful look but did not say anything about your state. There was still alcohol on his breath and he looked annoyed about his task, probably wishing he was still in bed like the other warriors. You did not dare to ask for help.

You drifted in and out of consciousness for the next few hours as the last few other prisoners were taken to Randvi and questioned about their knowledge and alliances. There was an aura of hopelessness in your cell. No one was speaking, everyone was staring at their feet and flinching at any loud noise. Eda ate a piece of bread and got terrible stomach cramps but managed to keep it down. At least one good thing. 

People were going in and out of the longhouse, you could hear horses outside, swords clashing in the distance - probably training - and a few servants sweeping the big hall and cleaning up last night’s mess. Suddenly something small and white moved into your field of vision. Were you dreaming again? You were sure you had a fever by now.

But this was real, Eda saw it too. She had straightened up next to you, the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. A scrawny white cat was cautiously circling the cell and apparently scouring for leftovers. You quickly skimmed the ground for anything you could offer the little animal. And yes, there was a big crumb right next to your heel. You carefully pushed it closer to you with your foot and managed to get it all the way into your hands’ reach. 

Quietly whispering and purring to the cat, you tried to lure her closer. And sure enough, the little white lady slowly came closer to your hands. You stayed completely still and held out the crumb on your open palm. Carefully, the cat stuck its paw through the bars and pulled the crumb back toward her. She devoured it right away. Softly meowing, she looked up at you, asking for more. You smiled at the sweet animal, a silver lining on this terrible day in this terrible cell.

“Birna! Where are you, you little rascal?” a familiar raspy voice called out, this time in the sweetest singsong, making you smile even more. The cat did not move from its spot next to you, instead meowing back louder to call to her mistress. You slowly stretched out your hands and she watched them curiously, beginning to purr as you drew your fingertips over her soft fur. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Eivor rounding the corner, wearing nothing but a thick grey knee-length tunic and fur boots. She froze in her tracks when she saw the scene before her. You quickly pulled your hands back, thinking she was angry at you for petting the cat. She suddenly rushed to the guard that had fallen asleep on his chair, slapping his chest with the back of her hand and ripping the keys to your cell from his grasp. He jerked awake, but Eivor had already opened the door and squatted down next to you. 

“Fuck the gods.” She sounded astonished and extremely worried at the same time. “Damn you, Dag, how did you not see this? Her wound has festered!” 

Eivor’s voice got louder and angrier with every word. She placed a hand on your forehead. 

“She’s burning up! I’m taking her to Valka.” With one swift motion, she had unbound your hands and picked you up. You hung in her arms, too weak to move. As she carried you out of the pen, she shot Dag a warning look and hissed: “We’ll talk about this later.”

The tall warrior almost ran out of the longhouse, whispering to you to stay with her and that she would take you to the best healer she knew.

“Don’t you worry, little bird. You just have to fight and recover. I will take care of you from now on.”

You arrived at a smaller hut and entered the dimly lit room that smelled of burned incense and freshly cut wood. A small, black-haired woman with a beautiful headdress and impressive facial tattoos leaped to her feet when she saw you come in. 

“Oh Eivor, what have you brought me now? Lay her down here.” She motioned to her bed, a simple wooden plank with a sack of straw and a number of furs. Eivor laid you down gently, kneeling next to you and squeezing your hand. 

“She was struck by her master two days ago. It must have gotten this bad last night.”

Valka crouched down and inspected your tender flesh. You fainted several times as she prodded at the wound but Eivor always called you back to her. The healer was now assembling herbs, burning something, and heating up water in a kettle over her fireplace. She ground up some sort of root and a few herbs and threw the mixture into the boiling water. Then she took a clean cloth and ordered Eivor to place the hot kettle on a wooden plate next to the bed. 

She dipped the cloth into the hot, sour-smelling brew that stung in your eyes and nose, then she pressed it on your cheek. It felt like she had stabbed a dagger into your skull, the pain ringing in your ears and making you see nothing but burning white. You were too exhausted to scream, fading in and out of consciousness. Instead, your body started violently shaking and Valka yelled at Eivor to pin you down before dunking the cloth into the scalding hot liquid and repeating the procedure again and again. Thankfully, you lost consciousness completely after the third time. The last thing you felt was Eivor’s big, warm hands on your upper arms and her knee on your hip, holding you down as you convulsed in pain.

-

When you woke up for the second time today, you were still lying on Valka’s bed. You wore a long linen tunic and the women seemed to have washed you, freeing you from the sweat and dirt that had accumulated in the last days. The room smelled better than before, the kettle was over the fire again and the small woman stirred dried flowers and other herbs into the water. Eivor was sitting next to you and wringing out another piece of cloth over a bucket. You braced yourself for more pain, but the water was cool and the blonde gently wiped your forehead and healthy cheek, your neck, and upper chest, humming softly to herself. She dampened the towel anew and folded it to lay it on your forehead. It was only now she realized you were awake. 

“Little bird.” She laid a hand on your cheek. “The worst is over.”

Valka came over with a mug and put it down next to you. She gave you an exhausted but encouraging smile.

“I apologize for hurting you this much. The infection was spreading across your face, I needed to draw it out. You will need at least a week to heal.”

You raised a hand to your face, but Eivor stopped you from touching yourself.

“We will put on a bandage later. Now there is just a salve,” Valka explained, “and you will have to drink this daily to help your body fight from the inside and give you strength.” 

She handed you the clay jug and you carefully raised it to your lips, taking a small sip of the concoction. It tasted sweet and earthy, immediately spreading warmth throughout your body and giving you the strength to fully open your eyes again. The wolf-kissed smiled at you. 

“I will leave you in Valka’s care for now. Soon I will take you to my hut and look after you there,” she promised. “I need to go and attend to important business, but I will bring you both supper later.” She took your hand again and softly rubbed her thumb over your knuckles, then she raised it to her lips and placed a feather-light kiss on the back of your hand.

Before leaving, she put her hands on Valka’s shoulders and sincerely thanked her for helping you. Then she gave you a last smile and left. 

The healer forced you to drink three jugs of her wonderful tea, then she helped you outside to relieve yourself and brought you back to bed, rubbing the salve into your cheek again and ordering you to sleep for now. The ointment numbed your skin and made the pain bearable. Taking a final look at the sun setting behind the mountains, you drifted away to sleep again. 

-

When Eivor brought bread and stew later, you felt much better already. The two Viking women sat on the floor next to you as you ate together. The stew was made with thick chunks of fatty meat and big slices of root vegetables, filling your stomach for the first time in days. Eivor told Valka about the raid; apparently the healer had not attended the celebrations yesterday. When the warrior told Valka about Dag's terrible state last night and this morning, the dark-haired woman just shook her head about this much exorbitance and stupidity. 

Even though you were still exhausted and not fully present at times, it was nice to sit with the two women and listen to them exchange stories and opinions, talk about plans for the future and a woman Valka was thinking about pursuing. The name Randvi caught your attention at one point, but with a meaningful look from Eivor, the topic was changed. 

As it got dark and you couldn't stop yourself from yawning, they debated what to do with you this night. Valka offered to sleep on the floor so you could stay here, but Eivor argued that she had a bed large enough and far more comfortable for the both of you. The healer admitted that you seemed to be stable for now and made Eivor promise to call for her immediately if anything happened with you. 

She handed Eivor a bag with the ointment, a few clean bandages, and the herb blend for the tea you should drink for the next few days. The blonde slung the pouch over her shoulder, then she approached you with a suddenly shy smile. 

“We haven’t asked you for your opinion on this at all. Do you even want to sleep in my hut?” she asked timidly, seeming almost nervous as she waited for your answer.

You shook your head and smiled. “Eivor, I’m just glad to be out of that terrible cell. I will sleep on the floor if I need to.”

“Little bird, tonight you will fly into the land of dreams on the softest wings. This bed is fit for a queen.” 

You held up your arm and wrapped it around the back of her neck as she picked you up again. Valka accompanied you outside, then she said her goodbyes and left for the longhouse. Eivor carried you in the other direction and used her knee to open the door to her big wooden cottage. Red rugs covered the wooden floorboards and a big torch next to the entrance lit the room, drenching it in flickering golden light. Her bed really was gigantic, with intricate carvings on the headbord and furs draped over the mattress.

The warrior gently lowered you onto her bed and laid down an enormous quilt over your body. She lit a candle on her side of the bed and put out the torch. Then she sat down on a big trunk and took off her boots, placing them neatly at the foot of the wooden bedframe. Slowly, trying not to disturb you, she laid down next to you and covered herself with a thin blanket. You raised your head.

“Won’t you get cold?”

Eivor looked at you in surprise, probably having assumed you were already sleeping. She gave you her wonderfully crooked smile. 

“I’m very hot blooded. I don’t mind the cold.” 

“I admire that,” you sighed. “I’m always freezing.”

She turned toward you and rested her head on her arm, stretching out her other hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face. Her fingers stayed on your forehead for a moment. 

“Your fever has dropped. Good,” she mumbled, “you’ll be better tomorrow. Sleep now, little bird.” 

-

Later at night you woke up from the sound of your own chattering teeth. The cold had entered the hut and taken a hold of you with its icy fingers; your whole body was cramping up and shaking. 

You looked over at the warrior lying next to you. Eivor was sleeping soundly, her bare arms thrown over her head and one leg sticking out from under the blanket. She seemed to be immune to the bitter cold.

There was no way you could fall asleep like this, freezing and shivering, your jaw hurting from trying to stop the chattering. You had to take the plunge. Slowly, you turned over to Eivor, scooting closer to her and lifting the quilt to come in contact with her warm body. She was radiating heat. 

You snuggled up to her, laying your head on her shoulder and resting your arm on her chest. She flinched at your weight on her, opening her eyes to make sure there was no danger. You two shared a silent look, then she smiled and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you in closer and warming you up so quickly that you were asleep again within minutes.

-

The next morning you were woken by the bustle outside, animal noises mixing with the blacksmith’s hammer and people talking as they walked past. A rooster crowed and reminded you of your old home in Williamsburg. You were still lying close to Eivor, your head in the crook of her arm and your leg intertwined with hers. She hummed in her sleep as she felt you stirring and pulled you in, not allowing you to move.

You noticed that your head wasn’t throbbing anymore. Your cheek still felt tender and the wound stung, but you were sure the salve and the herbal infusion Valka had given you would get you through the day. 

Eivor moved again, turning her torso toward you and holding you even closer to her chest. 

“How did you sleep, little bird?” she mumbled into your hair. “Did I share enough of my warmth with you?”

You pressed your forehead into the hollow spot beneath her collarbone and inhaled her wonderful scent, a mixture of herbs, tree bark, snow days and a faint musk reminding you of the deer on William’s pasture.

“Without you, I would have frozen to death last night,” you murmured back. She enveloped you with her strong, hot body while her fingers stroked your hair absentmindedly. 

Suddenly, the blonde drew her head back to look down at you. 

“How is your face? Better?”

You nodded. 

“It still burns, but I think the worst is over.”

Eivor let go of you and stretched her arm toward the bag on the wooden trunk, almost falling off the bed when she finally caught it. You grabbed her hand just in time to pull her back up, both of you having to laugh at her clumsiness. She opened the small jar with the rich yellow cream and dipped two fingers into the mixture. Careful not to press down too hard, she rubbed the salve into your cheek, all the way from your jaw to your temple. As she massaged the little dent there, you closed your eyes and leaned into her touch. 

After a while, Eivor got up and put on leather pants and a coat over her tunic. She lit the fireplace so you would be warm all day and slipped on her boots, promising to return soon with breakfast and a kettle to make your tea. 

You let yourself fall back onto the pillow and pulled the quilt all the way up to your nose. This day promised to be a lot more comfortable than the last ones. There was not going to be much to do except lay around and wait for Eivor to check in on you every once in a while. Maybe she would give you something to do - you could mend clothes for her or sweep the hut or prepare food for later. 

It seemed terribly unfair to you all of a sudden, you sitting here warm and fed while Eda and the others were still biding their time in their cell. It was not like you had done anything to gain anyone’s favor, Eivor just seemed to take to you a lot and your injury had drastically changed your path here. You wondered what the others were doing now and what they would be doing in the next few weeks. Eivor hadn’t taken them here without reason, there had to be a purpose to all of this. 

A noise at the window made you look up. It was Birna, the white cat from yesterday, shooting you a demanding look through the gaps in the wooden grid that let in some light without leaving a big hole in the wall. Right, no glass windows. No wonder you had been freezing last night. Careful not to lose your balance, you got up from the bed and took the grid from the small opening. You were delighted to see that it had started snowing outside. Birna gave you a satisfied meow and squeezed through the window, immediately heading for the bed and curling up right where you had sat. The spot was probably still warm.

After placing the grid back in the window frame, you joined Birna on the mattress. She stretched and rubbed her tiny head against the back of your hand, demanding to be petted, and you humbly obliged. The two of you sat together for a while, the little lady purring in response as you made her compliments and told her about the cats back at Williamsburg.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. This was strange - why would Eivor knock? To make sure you weren’t indecent? She had already seen you naked yesterday, although it would fit her to still be all honorable and courteous.

Another knock.

“Eivor, are you there? It’s Randvi.”

Your breath caught in your throat and Birna looked up at you, indignant at your sudden refusal to pet her. You did not dare to move or say anything. 

“Listen, I know we quarreled yesterday, but does this mean you won’t speak to me now? I just want to talk.” She sounded desperate, knocking harder this time. Fuck.

For a moment, there was silence and you started to hope she had left. 

Then the handle turned and the door opened. 

Randvi stood in the door, tall and beautiful as ever, her hand still on the doorknob. In a matter of seconds, her face went through surprise, confusion, realization, anguish and then nothing but wrath. You sat stone still, staring at her.

When she spoke, her voice was quiet and ice cold.

“So that’s how it is. I understand now.” She laughed but there was no humor in her voice, only bitterness.

Before you could say anything, she had turned on the spot and slammed the door shut. You could hear her steps fade away on the path to the longhouse and finally dared to release the breath you had been holding this entire time.

Birna had jumped at the loud noise, but now she rolled herself up in your lap and began to purr again. You let your head fall back against the headboard and stared up at the ceiling, trying to gather your thoughts. 

Jesus Christ.

You jerked up when you heard steps at the door again, but this time it was Eivor that entered. There were snowflakes in her hair, her face was flushed from the cold and she had brought a well-filled jute bag and a dark metal cauldron. A bright smile was on her face as she stomped her feet to get rid of the snow on her boots and threw the bag on the bed. 

“First snow!” she pointed out the obvious and took off her coat before letting herself fall onto the bed next to you and giving Birna a big smooch, which the cat took with an annoyed grumble.

“How did she get in here?” Eivor laughed and ruffled the cat’s fur. “She doesn’t like the snow. The little Viking princess is a sensitive one. She stays in here all winter and complains until the thaw comes.”

You cleared your throat. “I let her in through the window. But…” Eivor seemed to finally sense something was wrong and gave you a questioning look.

“Randvi was here.”

The blonde closed her eyes and sighed, then she blinked up at the ceiling just as you had done minutes earlier. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s complicated.” She shook her head.

You bit your lip and gave her an apologetic look. “She seemed displeased.”

This was a vast understatement, but you did not want to get involved in this, whatever it was. 

“I’ll talk to her later. This has nothing to do with you,” Eivor promised. Exactly.

You shared a breakfast consisting of bread, goat cheese and dried fruit while the water over the fireplace had started boiling and the herbs inside filled the entire room with their pleasant smell. 

When you had finished your meal and started sipping your brew, Eivor propped herself up on her elbow next to you. 

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Eivor?”

With her fingertips she drew patterns into Birna’s fur, her brow furrowed in contemplation.

“Do you think you could take another look at the map? I am planning on raiding Fort Winton tomorrow or the day after. The time is right, we are experienced in fighting in the snow and cold. I want to get this done.”

You swallowed hard, thinking of the life you had led before. If you supported this raid, you were betraying all your previous affiliations and fealties. Winton’s Steward was a terrible man. He had scared you when you were younger and he scared you now. You were sure that there was not a single person under his rule that enjoyed his company or thought him a good sovereign. You took a deep breath.

“I will. But under one condition: I do not wish to be seen as subject to English rule and fealty. I owe them nothing. I will give you all my knowledge and skill and I will swear my loyalty to you, only you. I will no longer be an English prisoner but your servant and by extension, a part of this clan.”

Eivor listened to you intently and considered your proposition for a moment, then she nodded. 

“I would not have let you come into my house and sleep next to me if I did not trust you already. I do not know how, but it sometimes feels like destiny brought us together.” Her hand moved toward yours, then she pulled it back and continued to pet Birna.

“I will speak to the council about this tonight. Tomorrow you shall help us strategize, so we can leave at first light the next day.”

You agreed, stretching out a hand to stroke Birna’s fur and just so happening to brush over Eivor’s knuckles with your fingertips. Both of you had to smile, feeling as if you shared a secret, one that had not fully revealed itself to you yet.

The warrior actually had a few tasks for you that you could take care of in bed: a few of her tunics that had tears and holes, a pair of pants which had ripped at the back - she went crimson red and mumbled something about a drinking contest and a wrestling match - and an old fur coat she had grown out of but gave to you to mend and wear. 

You spent the day with Birna, sewing and patching up Eivor’s clothes while telling the cat stories about Delia and Henry and your favorite adventures from your childhood. Eivor came by later, dropping off some more fruit to pass the time until supper. She seemed slightly irritated, but when she saw your work on her clothes she rejoiced. 

“You’re an artist, little bird! With you by my side, I will soon look like a queen!”

You laughed and clutched the fur coat to your chest. 

“I will take this as my first payment, then. Thank you. Maybe I will finally be warm for once.”

“Y/N, are you telling me you were cold last night? You must be made of ice if my heat could not pierce you,” Eivor teased you playfully. 

“Oh, it most certainly did. It seems you are the only one capable of doing so.” You smiled at her. She grabbed your hand and rubbed her thumbs over your palm. 

“I need to go now and meet the council. I will come back to warm you later.” She stroked Birna’s fur one last time, then she got up and in leaving threw you a last look that sent blood into your cheeks and made your stomach flutter.

“I long for it,” you whispered after she had closed the door behind her.

[lilisouless]

Wylan: what happened?!

Matthias: i was taking the stupid goat to his bath and i tripped on the stairs!

Wylan: And is he fine?

Matthias: I think there is something on the hind leg

Wylan: How could you do this to him! Jesper trusted me to take care of Milo while he and Nina were out for waffles? what is he gonna say? you wouldn't even let me carry it because "i couldn't handle it"

Matthias: I know i know! and Jesper is not going to say anything because we are not telling him

(twenty minutes later)

Matthias: you see? it was easy, we just cleaned the blood and put it some ointment on it

Wylan: Jesper didn't even coment on it , maybe is because he is always so focussed on the head

Matthias leaves the room no longer before Jesper comes in

Jesper: well, i finally put Milo in his new bed, he seems to love it

Wylan trying not to sound nervous: that's great

Jesper: and about that wound on his leg...

Wylan: oh ghezen

Jesper: Is okay, is not broken or anything it was just a scratch and he didn't seem to be in pain

Wylan: so, you are not mad?

Jesper: No, you grew up in a mansion,not used to take care of farm animals ,it´s okay you did your best

Wylan: i did! i was taking care of it just fine!

Jesper: i´m sure you did

Wylan: and i was doing great until Matthias decided i was not strong enought to carry Milo so he took it and was holding him when he tripped on the stairs!

Jesper: ...Matthias did it?

"Matthias enters the room"

Jesper: hey Helvar, did you notice something weird about Milo?

Matthias: "sweating" no , why?

Jesper: well i was feeding him and he was walking really funny, and there was something on his hind leg

Matthias: really?

Jesper: yes, is a really weird green stuff, like a fungus .Is a little like a dissease we´ve sacrificed a lot of cows an horses about

Matthias:...Oh Djel i killed you goat! "runs towards Milo´s room"

Jesper: "chuckles"

Wylan: i hope is still funny when you are in hell

"FAHEY YOU SON OF A B...

bassed on this friends scene https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jQBoF4y0l0I

[lethesomething]

The ghost and the witch

I am still dealing with the emotional gut punch that is the ending of Ghost of Tsushima, so have a very indulgent… fluff piece? My proofreaders have told me I can’t call it a comfort fic, so let’s go with ‘soft fic with canon levels of angst’ instead.

Tags: Jin Sakai x Reader, fluff, soft, comfort (?), angst, ridiculously poetic descriptions of nature, ludicrous levels of symbolism, so much pining

You scoop the dry green dust into the pouch, carefully checking the weight on a tiny brass scale. With a small wooden spoon, you stir the dust into the clay powder and dried grass already present, checking the contents of the pouch one final time before closing it up and using a few quick stitches to secure it. 

"There." You add the pouch to the pile and hold out the order. "One bag of stomach salts for the Fushikawa boy, and five wound ointments. That should keep you going for a while longer."

The Ghost, sitting in seiza on the opposite side of the table, bows his head as he takes them.

"Thank you."

He looks tired, sweat and mud mixing with caked blood on his brow. You're fairly sure it's not his, but that knowledge does not soothe you as much as you'd like. There are hard lines in that face, drawn by sacrifice and pain, etched in stubbornness and unwavering, never-ending pursuit.

"It would be better if you rested, lord Sakai."

He looks up. His eyes are clear and focused, crisp as the winds blowing up the northern cliffs of the island.

"Please, call me Jin."

"My apologies," you say, "force of habit."

"I don't recall you ever calling me 'lord' when we were young," he grumbles.

"That's because you wanted it too much back then," you grin. "But either way. Jin. Please take a rest. Your body cannot keep this up, no matter how tight your resolve is. You need actual sleep. You can stay the night if you want. You'll be safe here."

His gaze drops down and his brow knots, as if he's thinking over a new concept, something so foreign to him that it leads to confusion. Then he gets up. "The boy."

You're not about to argue. He's the most stubborn man you've ever met. With a sigh you follow him to the door of your house. "Then come back."

His retreating form stops briefly. The wind twirls leaves around his silhouette, outlined against the moss-covered trees. It's late in the afternoon, and light comes down the canopy like droplets, skittering from branch to branch until it falls to the ground in ever smaller pools. Shadows rule here, hiding his face, obscuring even the horse trotting to his hand. "I'll see what I can do," he says, and then he's off.

 ----

 Rain beats like hooves on the roof, mercifully muffled by the thick layers of thatch and greenery that shield your abode from prying eyes. Still, for a short moment your heart stops when you hear the screen door softly slide open, and just as quickly, slide shut. He stands there, slick with rain and glowing faintly orange in the light coming from the fire. "Excuse my interruption," he says.

You shake your head. "Welcome back." Embers fall off a log in the fire, popping and crackling. The rain drums above you. "Have you eaten?"

"A little," he mumbles, too stubborn to admit to hunger, but not composed enough to keep his eyes from wandering over the shelves for supplies you may have.

Movement comes to you in a sudden rush. "Sit down, I have some millet porridge leftover."

"You don't have to-"

You wave away his concern. "And I have water in the hearth, I'll draw you a bath."

"That's really not necessary," he starts saying, but he stops when you turn and raise an eyebrow at him.

"Yes it is."

For a long moment he halts, as if to take stock of the dirt, the sweat, the blood, the horse hair dampened by the rain but not washed away fully. He watches the fire, breathes in the smell of herbs that fills the very air inside this house and looks towards you, bustling over a pot of warm food. He nods. "Alright," he concedes, and gets comfortable on the floor. "Thank you."

 ---

 Steam rises, curling and dancing in intricate patterns toward the rafters. Jin rests his back against bamboo planks and rolls his neck. The tub is just big enough to submerge his lower half in warm, fragrant water. Whatever it is you’ve put in there smells nice. Calming. He takes a cloth and rinses it, before he wipes it on his face and shoulders, rubbing away what feels like years of grime and fatigue.

You’re tending to the fire, your form similar, but somehow more graceful than what it was. Your hair is longer, the skin on your hands rougher, but the years have not taken much else from you. Certainly the bright flame behind those eyes is still present, unrelenting and unyielding in the face of everything. 

You look up. “Did you want me to do your back?”

He blinks. “Uhhh.”

And then you smile, and that hasn’t changed either. Your lips curl up in a way that could be read as polite or mischievous, depending on the outlook. He’s always been fond of it. 

“Please,” he says. 

-- -

You sit on a stool by the bath and knead the heated skin on his shoulders between your fingers, the pads of your thumbs running small circles on his neck. His back is a patchwork of colours, from dark purple bruises to blues and reds and yellows.

You try to avoid the more painful looking blotches while you make your way down, but he does not protest at your touch. He’s silent, save for an occasional sigh and a roll of the neck. 

He’s grown, you notice. There is a dignity and a will to him that he lacked when he was younger. You’re well aware of what he’s doing, the lives he chooses to take, and those he chooses to save. You know of the enemies he’s made. Part of you is very proud of him. Another fears for his wellbeing at every turn. The path he’s chosen is not an easy one to walk. 

“How long has it been since you last washed your hair,” you ask into the silence that sits on top of the rumbles of fire and the splash of water. 

“I’m not letting you do that,” he says lowly. 

“Can I at least pick out the leaves?”

He chuckles. “If that’s what you want.” He leans back against the side of the tub and lets his head fall towards your knees. “Next you’ll ask me if you can shave me as well.”

“Would you let me,” you say, tugging at the cord that holds his bun together. 

He grins. “I just might.”

He closes his eyes and a curtain of black falls across your lap. You take a silver comb, one of your few treasures, and start gently tugging at the knots, unraveling the work of the sea and the wind. 

--- 

Jin leans back and closes his eyes. Your comb runs across his scalp in languid, repeating motions, like waves lapping at a beach. He times his breathing to their rhythm and sits there, relishing in the soft intimacy of your hands. 

There is comfort in the motions of your fingers running across his head. The smell of camellia’s is faint but nostalgic as you comb out the strands and oil them. It’s been a long time since he felt this warm, this content.

“Can I ask you something,” he says. 

“Go ahead.”

“Why did you leave?”

Your hands pause for a  second, but do not falter. Your fingers continue their gentle motion,  starting at the scalp and gliding down to part the hair, followed by the comb. 

“I suppose they never told you.” He feels a weight to those words, but can’t quite make it out. 

“I have always wondered,” he says. “I didn’t really understand what happened. One day you were just gone.”

“Jin.”

The weight shifts. There is a pause, a silence in which your fingers keep moving and steam fills the void between the two of you. The rain outside has stopped, he notices, and then you take a breath. 

“We were close,” you say. “Close enough for people to notice.” Your voice gains a raspy edge, as if it is difficult to speak. “I was not good enough. Not for you.”

“That’s-”

But you continue before he can form the sentence. “It was decided that it would be best that I move north, so as not to needlessly distract you from your studies.”

He swallows. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know.”

“That was, perhaps, for the best,” you say softly, and your fingers start gathering his hair. “You were not in a position to do anything about it.” You collect the strands in the palm of one hand, smoothing up any stragglers with the other. 

“The last I heard was that you were to marry one of clan Terushima’s retainers, but you didn’t.”

“I did not,” you hum behind him, as you coil his hair and tie it with a thin piece of string. “I’m sure he was nice enough, but I was never going to be some random man’s wife. I decided on a different path.”

You tap his shoulder and Jin sits up, takes in the herbs drying from the ceiling, the shelves of jars and powders. The pebbles, the statues, the trinkets. “You did,” he says, and he watches as you wipe down the comb and carefully fold it in embroidered silk, a piece of an old kimono he vaguely remembers, and store it in a box on the shelves. 

“Do you regret it?” he asks. 

You shake your head and carefully put away the oil. You rinse your hands in a bowl of water and dry them thoroughly. You set your shoulders before turning to him. “No path is easy to walk, Jin. Especially if you follow what you feel is right,” you say, finally. “Some roads are smoother than others, but we all crash into the walls and thorns confining us eventually. Whether you pull back from the edge or push through is up to you. We all do what we must.”

“We do,” Jin says quietly. His eyes feel heavy now. The fragrant water hanging thick in the air seems to call out, beckoning his senses deeper into the mist. When he looks up again, you are standing by his side, a towel in your hands. 

“And you must really rest, so get out of there while I pick up some more firewood in the shed.”

--- 

The birdsong of early morning filters through the blankets of vegetation that swaddle your house. The light will take a little longer to get here, traveling all the way from the top of the forest canopy like honey oozing off a spoon. 

You get up from a nest of fabric and straighten your clothes, combing your hair with a wooden pick before tying it back.

The Ghost lies on a mat in the corner, chest slowly rising and falling.

You poke the dying embers in the fire, sparking them back to life. There are many things to do: clothes to darn, balms to brew, but for now you are content to sit here and listen to soft breaths as you watch the sparks rekindle, adding branches to a fire that is sure to burn you if you continue to let it grow.

---

Jin Sakai adjusts the strap of his glove, tightening it. There is a dull ache in his chest that he didn’t notice before today. It has come to the foreground now that many of his other stings and pains have found relief. 

His breath is deeper, his head is clear. The deep, gnawing exhaustion that turned his every movement into a deliberate act, a decision to go on despite the waves crashing down, is shallow now. It tugs at his feet like mud, enough to annoy, but not to trip him, certainly not enough to stop him.  

You’re leaning against the door style, arms folded. Your lips are curled, smiling, but your eyes are not. 

He sighs. The sun dapples you with blossoms of light, crowns you in golden glory. Slowly, his hand reaches up, fingers tracing the line of your jaw. 

You blink rapidly up at him. “Jin?”

A sudden gust of wind whirls around you, tugging pieces of thatch off the roof and blowing strands of hair into your face, obscuring your vision.

He leans in and softly, briefly, places his lips on your forehead. “Thank you,” he whispers. “For everything.”