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cappulcino · 2 months ago

Text

Where The Wild Things Rest

Read on AO3

Words: 10,122

Pairing: Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Reader

Summary: See prompt here. You're the keep's master of King's Landing and find yourself under the protection of Brienne of Tarth on a quest for medicinal herbs. When a violent ambush leaves Brienne wounded, you seek refuge in an abandoned shack to treat her wounds and wait out the upcoming storm. One thing leads to another, and Brienne gets cared for in more ways than one.

Tags: Slow burn, smut, mutual pining, soft dom!reader

Trigger warnings: NSFW, description of violence, mentions of injuries and blood, graphic description of nudity and explicit sexual content (minors DNI)

A/N: If you're interested, you can find the link to the playlist I listened to while writing here.

"Honestly, Ser, I'm perfectly capable of fetching a few herbs on my own. I doubt the Kingswood has become a den of outlaws overnight."

With one hand resting firmly on the hilt of her sword, Brienne stood unwavering by the gate and her horse, her eyes not unkind but uncompromising on you. You were about to leave the city and had found her there, waiting for you. Apparently, the King himself had asked her to accompany you on your journey, and she would not budge.

"Many refugees and former soldiers have turned to theft and smuggling after the war I'm told, and the forest is less predictable than you'd think."

"I suppose I cannot convince you," you tried.

"No. My orders were clear," Brienne insisted with a firm shake of her head before she buckled her own saddlebag. "His Grace does not want you travelling without a guard."

You sighed, casting a sideways glance toward the treeline where the road to the Kingswood began. You didn't dislike Brienne of Tarth, quite the contrary, but you needed to focus on your mission, and you feared she would be… distracting.

"Well, His Grace worries too much. It'll only be a few bundles of feverfew and willow bark… maybe some yarrow. It's not that valuable and neither am I. The horse is worth more, but–"

"The king believes you are valuable enough, and so do I," Brienne cut you off, taking a brisk step closer. "We have already lost too much. We cannot afford to lose someone with your knowledge and skills. Not now."

She paused briefly and avoided your gaze as she spoke her next words, her voice mellowing ever so slightly.

"Or ever."

You put your hands on your hips and, again, looked into the distance, considering your options.

"Thieves, you say?"

"And smugglers. They might find you an easy target."

You gasped and raised your eyebrows at that statement, only half-feigning the offence showing on your face.

"I did not mean to call you weak," Brienne quickly rectified. "But with your hands full and your attention elsewhere, anyone could come from behind to attack you."

Brienne had a point. You tended to get quite absorbed by any task you undertook and crouching down to pick the herbs wouldn't exactly put you in the best position to retaliate and defend yourself should someone come at you. Still, you didn't understand why the King had appointed his best knight to this mission.

"Very well," you said. "I give up."

You pulled yourself up on your horse and went through the gate, and, from the outer corner of your eye, you saw Brienne letting out a soft exhale. Her apparent relief made you smirk, and you suddenly found yourself thinking that perhaps her company wouldn't be so bad.

For the first hour or so, you both rode in a silence interrupted only by bird songs, your horses' hoofbeats, and the metallic sounds of Brienne's armour. For some reason, she was riding a couple paces behind you and had not uttered a single word since you had left King's Landing.

So you took a halt and turned your horse around to face her, and Brienne, apparently too caught up in her thoughts, almost didn't notice you were no longer advancing and stopped abruptly, a mere pace away from you.

The face she made then and the way she quickly made her horse step back pulled the corner of your lips up once more.

"If we are to spend the day together, we might as well ride side by side," you said. "And maybe talk, get to know each other a little?"

Brienne blinked.

"We have known each other for months already," she replied, furrowing her brow.

"Correction: I know your name and you know mine, I have repaired your armour twice, you constantly refuse the ointments I make for the knights' wounds, and we exchange banalities regarding the keep's security when we cross paths. This is not what qualifies as knowing someone."

Brienne shifted her weight in her saddle, somewhat uncomfortable.

"There isn't much to say."

"Oh, I beg to differ. One cannot become the first female knight of all Westeros, first Lady Commander of the Kingsguard, and say she has no stories to tell."

"My stories have already travelled further and faster across the country than I have."

You weren't sure whether to laugh or roll your eyes at her reluctance to share the slightest bit of information.

"They have indeed," you confirmed. "And I have listened to each of them with great interest. But perhaps you wish to tell me your own version of those accounts, or to share stories yet unknown?"

"I would only be boring you, I'm afraid."

That was it; you rolled your eyes and resumed riding. Brienne could be stubborn as a mule if she wanted, and you couldn't waste the entire day trying to make her understand that you were, in fact, very much interested in anything she would be willing to say.

Brienne stayed frozen in place behind you a couple seconds, trying to make sense of your sudden wish to bond with her before she ordered her horse to catch up with yours in a quick trot, making her armour clank loudly as it did so.

"I don't understand why you would want to get to know me better," she said, now riding to your right.

You snorted softly.

"Evidently."

"An hour ago, you didn't want me around."

"I merely said I didn't need your protection." You glanced sideways at Brienne, and she looked rather disappointed by your constant dismissal, so you quickly added, "But since you must be here, why shouldn't we try to make it enjoyable for us both?"

When Brienne said nothing, you fully turned your head to face her. But she looked away, pretending to survey your surroundings for your safety, and you understood she didn't believe you could truly enjoy her company. The realisation made your heart clench harder than it should.

"Ser Podrick Payne was right," you muttered after a moment of silence.

Brienne's eyes skewered you. She had spent a long time with Podrick back when he was her squire, and she had opened up to him in ways she had rarely done with others. The idea that he could have betrayed her trust and repeated things she didn't want you to know made her blood boil.

"What did he say?" she asked in a clipped voice.

Your expression softened and you offered Brienne a small smile, trying to let her know that she didn't have to worry. Ser Podrick Payne would be the last knight to speak ill of her.

"That you wear more than one armour. And it's a shame."

Again, Brienne didn't reply to your comment. But you saw the crease between her eyebrows relax ever so slightly, and it gave you enough hope that, by the end of the day, she would trust you enough to let you in.

Another hour had passed, and you were now in the Kingswood, keeping your eyes peeled for the herbs you needed to gather.

Brienne still hadn't spoken much, but your genuine softness towards her had somewhat appeased her and you had been pleasantly surprised to find out that while she wasn't one to talk about herself so much, she could be a good listener –one who seemed keen on hearing about anything you had to say.

And so, in the past hour, you had answered many of her questions and told her about your childhood –what you remembered of it, at least–, where you had learnt about the duties of a keep's master, how the King had come to appoint you. And Brienne listened to each reply, with great intent, it seemed.

"Look, feverfew," you said, suddenly putting an end to your monologue.

Brienne followed your gaze and noticed the little white flowers blooming by the trail, right where the sunlight filtered through the trees.

"There is never enough of it in our inventory," you added as you pulled on the reins before handing them to Brienne. "Here. Would you hold onto Galewind for me? He likes to run away when I'm not looking."

Brienne gathered her own reins in her right hand before reaching with her left to grab yours. And as you handed over Galewind's reins, your fingers brushed against Brienne's –a fleeting contact, yet enough to make you pause.

You glanced up at her face, momentarily struck by the unexpected tenderness of the touch while Brienne's eyes flicked down to where your fingers had touched her hand, her expression unreadable. She shifted slightly in her saddle, her lips parting as though to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she only nodded, assuring you your horse was in good hands.

"Thank you. He can be stubborn," you said as you dismounted before clearing your throat in an attempt to chase the awkwardness away.

"Of course," Brienne replied, her tone uncharacteristically soft.

You walked to the feverfew and knelt down to examine the flowers, but your mind lingered on that moment. True, you had "known" Brienne for a while now, yet she remained as much an enigma up close as the stories had painted her from afar. But with what had just happened, you considered for the first time how much strength and gentleness seemed to coexist in her –and you weren't entirely sure she wanted others to notice that other side of her.

From behind, you could feel her eyes on you, watchful and cautious, as if she were guarding more than just your back. A flicker of something stirred in your chest, but you pushed it aside. There were herbs to gather, and you didn't have time for silly, fleeting thoughts –not now, anyway.

A couple of hours later, you had already gathered quite a good amount of herbs and were enjoying the slow ride along the trail when the soft sound of rushing water caught your attention. Glancing toward the noise, you spotted a narrow stream cutting through the trees. At first, you only admired how the water glittered in the sunlight. But then your eyes honed in on a cluster of tall plants nestled on the far bank.

"Motherwort," you murmured, almost to yourself, before halting. "That's a rare find."

You then turned towards Brienne as she stopped beside you and winked at her.

"Perhaps it is you bringing me luck. I shall take you with me more often."

"What is it used for?" Brienne asked to create a diversion from your comment –though the brief clenching of her jaw and the faint blush on her cheeks seemed to indicate you had actually hit the target.

"Oh, many things if you know how to prepare it. But mainly female health."

Brienne nodded in a detached way as if she didn't even feel concerned, and you went back to the matter at hand.

"But it's on the other side of the stream and at this time of year, that water is freezing. I'd rather not risk crossing."

Brienne tilted her head.

"Why not have Galewind jump it? He would clear it."

"Not without trampling the herbs," you pointed out, stroking your horse's neck. "Besides, he has a habit of… misjudging his landings."

Brienne arched an eyebrow in a somewhat judgemental manner, wondering why you insisted on riding this colt if he had that many flaws. This time, you were the one ignoring her and you turned back to the stream, trying to think of another solution.

"We'll have to find a way across."

Brienne's expression shifted, her eyes scanning the area before landing on a large fallen tree a few paces away. She pointed at it.

"What about that?"

You blinked.

"The trunk? Ser, that thing must weigh more than both of us combined."

But Brienne had already dismounted, her boots crunching on the damp soil as she walked toward the tree with purpose.

"I'll manage."

You watched, half in awe, as she planted her feet and bent down to grip the log. Her arms strained, muscles shifting under her tunic and armour, yet she dragged the trunk closer to the stream swiftly and made it look almost effortless, rotating it until one end caught against the bank.

"That should hold," she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face and staining her pale forehead with a bit of dirt. "I'll cross first."

You kept looking at her as she stepped onto the log with care. The wood creaked under her weight, but she moved steadily, her balance precise. When she reached the other side, she turned back and gestured.

"Your turn."

You still hadn't dismounted and hesitated. Brienne could leave her mare without a care in the world, but you had had to chase Galewind too many times to do the same without worry.

"I told you my horse liked to wander off."

"He's grazing," Brienne pointed out. "He'll be fine for five minutes."

You sighed, reluctantly getting off your saddle and stepping onto the makeshift bridge. The bark was slippery from the recent rain, and the rushing water below only made it harder to concentrate.

About halfway across, you noticed Brienne offering a hand and you looked up. But the sight of her muscular silhouette waiting for you made you lose what little focus you had left since that fortuitous skin contact, and your foot slipped, causing a yelp to escape your lips.

Before you could topple, the same firm hand grabbed your arm. Brienne hauled you upright with ease, pulling you against her steel-covered chest. Your heart was still pounding as you looked up at her to find her eyes filled with concern.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, her voice once again unusually soft.

"Just my pride," you muttered, realising how your hands had instinctively gripped her shoulders for balance. "Thank you."

Brienne's lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile and her hand lingered on your arm a moment longer than necessary before she seemed to realise what she was doing and let go of you.

"Well, go on, then. The herbs."

"Uhm, yes. Of course."

You took a step back, re-establishing a proper distance between the two before you went and crouched by the patch of motherwort, carefully snipping the stems and placing them into your satchel.

"We should follow the stream," you said on your way back to your horse –which, thankfully, had deemed the grass much more interesting than running away. "Many herbs that I need grow where the soil is wetter. Then maybe we can stop somewhere to rest for a bit. You brought something to eat, yeah?" You asked, not wanting to waste time hunting.

"I did."

"Good. Then let's go. And, well… Thank you again for not letting me fall, Ser."

"You're welcome," Brienne said, visibly content to be of some help to you. "And if it pleases you… Brienne's enough."

The stream widened into a river ahead, its current rippling faster over smooth stones. On the banks, the graceful bows of willow trees dipped toward the stream, their leaves fluttering like whispers in the breeze. You tugged on Galewind's reins and pointed to a flat patch of grass beneath one of the trees.

"We should stop here. I need some willow bark, and the rocks will make decent seats."

Brienne agreed and dismounted with ease, then cast a practised eye around the clearing before securing her horse to a sturdy branch. You followed her lead, double-checking Galewind's knot.

"No escapade this time. Right, big boy?"

From your satchel, you pulled out two modest bundles wrapped in cloth. Brienne joined you as you settled on a smooth rock close to the river's edge. The air wasn't too chilly when the wind calmed down and it carried the faint scent of damp earth and leaves that had decomposed during winter. For a moment, the two of you sat quietly, the sound of the rushing river filling the space between.

Then, breaking the silence, you gestured to Brienne's meal.

"What'd you bring?"

Brienne unwrapped her bundle: strips of dried meat, a hunk of bread, and a slice of cheese. She glanced at yours, which displayed colourful slices of carrots and radishes nestled beside cured meat.

"If that's not a proper knight's meal…" you teased lightly, breaking your bread.

Brienne didn't reply, but her lips twitched –an almost-smile that warmed you more than you cared to admit.

You looked up to see movement on the opposite bank. A magnificent deer had emerged from the undergrowth, its antlers rising like branches. Its coat was sleek and golden, catching the sunlight in a way that seemed almost unreal.

"Look at that," you breathed, leaning forward. "Isn't he magnificent?"

Brienne lifted her head, her expression impassive as she studied the creature.

"He'd make good stew," she said matter-of-factly.

You blinked, startled, before a loud, genuine laugh escaped you.

"You cannot possibly look at that majestic creature and think... stew!"

Brienne's straightforwardness, combined with the absolute seriousness in her tone, was too endearing to be frustrating.

"Do you see beauty in anything at all? Or just potential dinner?" you asked as your laughter slowly died.

Brienne's brow furrowed, and for a moment, you thought you'd offended her. But then she spoke, her voice quieter than before.

"My father had a fondness for deer. He liked how graceful, quiet, and watchful they were." She looked back toward the forest, her expression softening. "He also said does reminded him of my mother." A pause. Then, almost to herself: "I never knew her well enough to say if he was right. I never knew her at all."

The unexpected vulnerability caught you off guard. You held your breath, not wanting to disturb the moment. For once Brienne dared to talk, so you would let her. Her gaze remained on the deer, now grazing on the other side of the river.

"Once, when I was little, he found a fawn tangled in some brambles. It must have been abandoned, it was too weak to fight. He carried it home and we tended to it for weeks, feeding it by hand. He told me he wanted to teach me the gentleness my mother could no longer teach me and how to care for the weak. He said even the smallest life deserved consideration."

You kept staring at her, struck by the tenderness in her voice.

"What happened to the fawn?" you asked softly.

"It got strong enough to run." Brienne shrugged, her expression hardening slightly. "One day, it left. I suppose it went back to the forest."

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The deer on the far bank raised its head, as though sensing your attention, before darting gracefully into the woods. Brienne turned back to her meal, the shutters of her composure sliding back into place.

"That was a long time ago," she said as she briefly shook her head, her tone almost dismissive. "And then my father taught me how to fight instead."

You wanted to say something, maybe tell her both her parents would be proud of the woman, the knight she had become. That, in a way, she still took care of the weak. But the words felt too heavy for the moment, so you swallowed them.

Instead, your gaze fell back to her meal and you decided to try to lift the spirits.

"You know, I don't see a single vegetable in there," you said, a teasing lilt in your voice. "Here, have this."

You plucked a bright chunk of carrot from your bundle and held it out to her. Sensing her confusion, you insisted, jerking the vegetable in her direction.

"They make you loveable, you know."

Brienne frowned.

"Loveable?"

"Absolutely. People see you munching on a carrot, and they think, 'There's someone approachable.'"

Brienne stared at you, her lips parting slightly as though to protest, but then the words tumbled out. Now she was offended.

"I don't suppose I seem approachable to most," she said as she snatched the piece of carrot from your hand and glanced away, her voice stiff. "I try to be better, more gentle. Like my father first wanted me to be. But... I'm just not."

You blinked, surprised by the sudden confession.

"Brienne, I–"

She barrelled on, as if afraid to let you interrupt.

"I'm too blunt. Too hard. Pod was right about what he told you. And since travelling with him, I've tried to be better. I've tried with many people, but… Maybe if I were different, I–"

"Brienne, stop."

Your voice was soft but firm, and it made her pause. You leaned closer, meeting her gaze.

"You don't have to change. Not for anyone. You're perfectly fine as is."

Her expression faltered, a flicker of disbelief in her eyes.

"You don't mean that. No one–"

"But I do. I like you. Just the way you are." You said it simply, but the conviction in your tone made Brienne gawk at you, stunned into silence.

Only then did you notice the smudge of dirt on her forehead. It made you smile.

"But if you do want to change one thing, maybe start with that dirt on your face."

Her hand shot up as her cheeks turned crimson, and she awkwardly wiped at her forehead. But instead of cleaning it, she only managed to smear the dirt even further. You chuckled, pulling a cloth from your satchel.

"Here, let me."

"I'm fine."

"Clearly… Now stop whining, and let me help."

You reached up, the cloth brushing her skin as you wiped the dirt away. She stilled under your touch, her eyes locked on yours, and the air between you suddenly grew heavy with unspoken things.

In the silence that followed, your gaze lingered. Brienne had always appeared to you as striking in her own way –an unpolished charm she seemed intent on hiding beneath layers of stoicism and practicality. But here, now, with the golden sunlight catching in the loose strands of her hair and the silver gleam of the water reflected in her eyes, she looked... ethereal.

It wasn't just her appearance that caught you, though that alone was enough to leave you momentarily breathless. It was that, for the first time, she felt closer, not the distant figure of knightly legend but a woman, warm and real, and achingly human.

Your thoughts wandered to places you hadn't allowed them to go before. Had they been there all along, quietly waiting, or was this the first time you truly left your mind unbridled? Either way, you found it impossible to look away, and something deep in your chest stirred, a pang you didn't want to understand but couldn't ignore.

But then came the sound of snapping twigs, interrupting the beauty of the moment. Brienne's head whipped around, and her hand instinctively moved to her sword.

"Someone's here," she muttered, her voice low and sharp.

You both stood up as six men emerged from the trees, their faces covered by hoods or old helmets, their intent clear in the way their hands rested on their weapons. One, slightly older with a jagged scar tracing his jawline, stepped forward.

"Nice horses," he said, his tone almost conversational, though his grin was anything but friendly. "And a nice haul of herbs, too. You've saved us the trouble of finding our own."

He then looked you up and down in a way that repulsed you so much you found yourself shivering and added, "Maybe we'll take that one back to the camp, too. And your money."

"Leave now," Brienne commanded, "and no harm will come to you."

The leader chuckled, glancing at his companions who sniggered as well.

"That's rich, coming from one damsel against men like us. And no helmet? Bold choice."

Brienne's hand tightened on the hilt of her sword, her gaze never leaving the man. She turned her head slightly, just enough to murmur to you, "Get behind those trees and stay out of sight."

"But–"

"Go," she snapped, her tone brooking no argument. "I'll handle this."

Reluctantly, you obeyed, slipping behind a thick oak as the tension in the air snapped like a drawn bowstring.

The scarred leader barely had time to shout an order before Brienne's sword slid out of its scabbard with a metallic hiss.

She surged forward, her blade arcing in a precise downward cut. The man nearest her, wielding a rusted mace, barely raised it in time to block the blow. The force sent him staggering backwards, but Brienne pressed her advantage. She kicked his knee with her boot, sending him to the ground with a cry.

Another man darted in from her right, swinging a short sword. Brienne pivoted, deflecting the strike with her armoured forearm before slashing across his chest. Blood sprayed, and he collapsed.

The youngest of the group, barely more than a boy, took one look at Brienne's bloodied sword and at the two downed companions before turning tail. His cowardice earned him a curse from the leader, who was now advancing on Brienne.

"Get her!" he barked, drawing his own blade.

Brienne turned to face him, but the man she had kicked earlier had regained his feet. With a snarl, he swung his mace into her exposed flank. The dull thud of impact echoed in the clearing as Brienne fell to the ground, her breath catching.

"Brienne!"

From your hiding spot, you watched the fight unfold, your chest tightening with every blow she took. She moved with precision and strength, but there were too many of them. The man's mace strike had slowed her down, and you saw the hesitation in her steps. You gripped the tree bark, your heart pounding and feeling utterly useless.

The leader lunged, and Brienne barely managed to parry his sword in time before slamming her fist repeatedly in his face. Groaning, he reeled back long enough for Brienne to roll them over.

She was about to punch him some more when one of his accomplices grabbed her from behind and pulled her back to her feet, attempting to strangle her. She once again freed herself by pushing her elbow into his ribs before driving her shoulder into his chest and forcefully crushing him between her armour and a tree.

The leader, weakened but still willing, charged at her with his sword. Brienne raised her blade to shield herself from his attack, but the movement left her vulnerable and allowed a fist to crash above her eyebrow. She stumbled, a cut opening and blood trickling into her eye.

Yet, through it all, she didn't stop. She growled, planting her feet and driving the leader back with a series of quick, precise strikes. Her sword then found his thigh, cutting deep. He crumpled to the ground with a scream, clutching the wound.

"Enough, dammit!" He cried out. "We're done!"

One of the others pulled him by the arm and dragged him away followed by the last uninjured men, leaving their fallen comrades groaning in the dirt. Brienne stayed still, her chest heaving, sword raised in readiness until they disappeared into the trees. And then, as though the fight had drained the last of her strength, she dropped her sword and fell to her knees, her breaths ragged.

"Brienne!" you yelled, coming out of your hiding spot to lunge by her side.

"I'm fine," she said through gritted teeth, attempting to wave you off.

Obviously ignoring that lie, you looped an arm under hers and did your best to haul her upright, the effort straining every muscle. Even without the steel plating, Brienne was solid as stone, and the armour made her nearly impossible to move. You groaned and so did she, her strength faltering as she slumped heavily against you.

The sky that had already turned grey during the fight chose this moment to crack open with rain.

"Of course," you muttered bitterly.

As if getting Brienne back to the horses wasn't hard enough, the rain would soon start to make her armour slippery and you weren't sure you would manage at all.

"Do you think you can get up?" you asked Brienne as you reached her horse.

"Yes…"

But Brienne half-lifted herself before sagging back, too weak to climb.

"It's alright, let me help."

You tried a couple times to lift Brienne up so she could get on her saddle but to no avail. Her armour made her too heavy and her horse was too tall –you lacked the strength to pull her onto a mount so high.

"Seven hells," you cursed when Brienne fell back down for the third time.

"I'm sorry…"

"No. Don't you dare be sorry, Brienne."

Turning around to look at Galewind, you wondered if you should try to get Brienne onto him instead –he was shorter after all.

Galewind's ears flicked toward you and suddenly, as if sensing your desperation, he bent his forelegs to the damp ground and shifted lower.

You barely believed it but had no time to marvel, and promptly guided Brienne to push her onto his back. Her weight nearly sent you sprawling, but this time, you miraculously managed.

"Good boy," you murmured, patting Galewind's neck once Brienne was secured into place. "Hold on, will you?" you told her.

As you hopped on Brienne's horse –which displeased the mare, though she chose not to make a fuss–, you took a second to look at the darkening sky above you and assess the situation. The wind only seemed to bring more charcoal clouds, with no hope for clearing in the distance.

Returning to King's Landing wasn't an option with Brienne in this state, and you wanted to be gone before more men came back for their wounded peers –if they ever did.

Think, you urged yourself. Then you remembered seeing a cabin a league back, just off the path. A forester's or healer's shack, maybe, abandoned but intact enough to provide sufficient shelter.

"Hold on, Brienne," you repeated, as much for yourself as for her, urging the horses forward.

The ride was somewhat gruelling because of the stress it caused you as you saw how Brienne kept swaying dangerously with each step every time you turned around. But Galewind almost seemed to understand he needed to be careful and to have forgotten his fugitive tendencies. Your heart ached for Brienne, perhaps in disproportionate measures, but you had no time to think about this now.

By the time you reached the cabin, the rain was a steady downpour, soaking through your cloak and threatening to make Brienne slip off the saddle. So you pulled both horses to a halt and dismounted with haste to help her down.

She leaned heavily on you, her breaths laboured, as the two of you staggered toward the door. Kicking it open, you guided her to the straw bed there was thankfully still inside. She slumped onto it with a groan, her head lolling back as exhaustion overtook her.

"Stay with me," you ordered in a whisper as you brushed a strand of wet hair from her face before running back out to get your satchels and herbs.

You felt guilty for leaving the horses out in such weather, they could get seriously sick. But you had no choice and other priorities –well, one priority.

Back in the shack, you moved with purpose, thoughts reeling as you began to work.

"First things first, fire," you said, needing to enunciate everything you were doing to keep your mind from wandering back to the feelings Brienne had strangely ignited inside you.

You noticed a pile of firewood under a dirty cloth next to the stone hearth and threw a few logs into it. The air was damp for the rain, and your fingers fumbled over the tinder you had also found nearby. It took quite a good amount of tries, but finally sparks caught, flames flickered, and the fire took.

"Good."

As you rummaged to find something to put some water to boil, you couldn't help but keep glancing at Brienne, slumped on the straw bed. You were worried sick for her.

"No sleeping yet, Brienne. You hear me?"

Brienne didn't answer and it got you even more worried, but you kept working.

At last, you found a stewpot and a clay basin.

"Perfect."

It wasn't ideal, but you decided the quickest way to gather water. You would boil it anyway so it would be drinkable. So you took the stewpot outside and left it there. As you did so, your eyes landed on a patch of stinging nettle. You decided it could be useful and harvested a few handfuls.

Back inside once more, you grabbed the satchels you had brought in, pulling out the gathered herbs that you methodically placed on the dusty table next to the stinging nettle.

You glanced at Brienne once more, and her pallor was far from reassuring. But then again, she had always had an extremely fair complexion –one of the things you found most beautiful about her.

Your heart ached to see her like this, though you were silently commending her for defending you against those thieves. She had fought so hard, so bravely… Those men had never stood a chance –in your eyes anyway.

"Brienne…" you called out softly as you approached the bed she was lying on.

"I'm fine."

"You are anything but."

"You worry too much."

Brienne's voice was hoarse so you walked back to the table to grab your flask in your bag. You had almost no water left, but Brienne needed to drink.

"Open up," you urged, slipping an arm under her shoulders to lift her. "Don't make me pour it down your throat."

Your tone –half-teasing, half-desperate– made Brienne huff, enough to let you tip the flask against her lips. She drank sluggishly but obediently, her eyelids fluttering as her body resisted consciousness. Then you laid her back down gently.

"Will you let me take off your armour? You can't breathe properly like this."

Brienne nodded weakly and you moved tentatively to undo the straps of her armour. But your hands were shaking and you found yourself struggling, until a rugged hand reached for yours, brushing almost tenderly against your fingers.

"Leave it," Brienne rasped. "I can do it."

You weren't so sure about that but let Brienne work out those straps. It was embarrassing for you as you were supposed to know how to deal with that kind of equipment, and your cheeks slightly turned pink. You counted on the dark and Brienne's poor state to hide the blush.

Brienne pulled on the straps and they seemed to fall right off. You cleared your throat and thanked her with a silent nod as she let her arms fall back on the bed. Then you started by removing her gorget, pauldrons, and rerebraces, setting each piece down nearby with care.

The cuirass' turn then came, and you couldn't help but wince in sympathy when you heard Brienne hiss.

"Sorry…" you muttered, though you knew the word wouldn't help.

Brienne shook her head as if to dismiss your apology and groaned through gritted teeth, her fingers clutching her arming doublet. You quickly understood that her abdomen was injured and that any heavy layer caused discomfort. So you took the padded jacket off as well and folded it into a makeshift pillow for Brienne.

"Better?"

"Yes."

With that done, you decided to let Brienne rest for a moment and got back to work. First, you retrieved the stewpot from outside, now brimming with rainwater, and set it over the fire. Once the water was finally boiling, you scooped some into the clay basin and set it aside. Some of the water would be used for a willow bark and stinging nettle decoction, and some for a comfrey poultice. The latter would help with the bruising, the former was for pain relief. Yarrow would help with the bleeding, too.

You crushed the willow bark and stinging nettle between your fingers and sprinkled them into the stewpot with practised precision. You let the mixture simmer and moved on to the comfrey root, crushing it into a thick paste in the clay basin with the handle of your dagger. Finally, you sat at the old table to pluck the yarrow leaves you needed from the stems.

It was only as you caught yourself staring at the remedies that you realised Brienne's breathing had slowed down.

"Hey, no, no, no!" you commanded as you rushed back to her side. "I said no sleeping yet."

"I'm only resting my eyes."

"Later. When I'm sure you're alright."

Brienne shifted a bit to be more comfortable then and hissed again, her face contorting as she grabbed her stomach. You had to take a look.

"Alright. Uh, Brienne…" you said, your voice much softer now, almost a whisper. "I have to check your wounds. And your tunic… It has to come off, or I cannot treat you properly."

Brienne's brow furrowed faintly and she turned her head away from you, stubbornness lingering despite her exhaustion.

"Please, Brienne," you insisted, your fingers now hovering hesitantly near the hem of her tunic. "I will only do what's necessary. Nothing more, I swear."

A long moment passed before she gave the faintest nod, and you pulled the fabric up and away, trying to keep your touch clinical despite the sudden heat rising to your cheeks. You expected another layer beneath, but there was only bandaging, tightly wound around her chest and soaked with blood. Practical, efficient, and utterly intimate in a way you hadn't anticipated. Your breath hitched and you looked away immediately, your face now crimson.

As keep master, you spent many hours a week in the infirmary and had seen many people in various stages of undress. But for some reason you had yet to understand –or rather, yet to admit to yourself–, it all felt much different with Brienne.

"I-Is that… from an older wound?" you stammered, pointing at the blood stain on Brienne's ribs.

Brienne followed your gaze.

"Yes."

"We… We'll deal with those later."

You took a deep breath in to compose yourself, and let your eyes roam as professionally as you could over Brienne's body trying to assess her injuries, then tentatively brought trembling fingers to her bruises, starting with those on her collarbones. Thankfully, they weren't broken and nor were the ribs above her breasts either, so you moved on, checking her arms and hands from every angle. You could feel Brienne trying to keep her body limp, abandoning herself to your expert hands, trusting you completely.

Once you were certain she had no broken bones or dislocated limbs, you carefully let your fingers slide over her abdomen, stopping here and there to apply gentle pressure and check for deeper damage, and wincing at every hiss she couldn't suppress.

Eventually, you reached Brienne's hips and lower abdomen, and she flinched and let out a soft gasp when your fingers dipped right between her navel and pelvis. You froze and your eyes shot up, meeting Brienne's for a brief instant –a fleeting second that still felt like an eternity– before turning away.

"Did that hurt?"

"No, not really," Brienne replied, her voice low and still roughened by fatigue. "Carry on."

You nodded, willing yourself to stay focused, then went and retrieved a piece of cloth from your bag –you always had a few, just in case– and plunged it in hot water before coming back to sit by Brienne's side on the straw bed.

"I need to clean those wounds before I can treat them."

Brienne took a sharp, shaky breath as if needing to compose herself, too, and you began gently cleaning the cuts and scrapes on her hands and face. She had one particular cut over her left eyebrow that you knew would need more than one yarrow leaf. You dabbed at it and, as you did so, glanced at her eyes again. With the flames that danced in the hearth lighting up her face, they looked like clear skies pierced by a winter's sunset. You were captivated, bewitched. But you cast those thoughts aside –now wasn't the time.

Pulling away, you went to fetch the processed herbs, then made her drink a bit of decoction and sat down again before busying yourself with applying the poultice.

"This will help with the bruising," you explained needlessly, now avoiding Brienne's gaze.

"You're kind. Too kind, perhaps," she suddenly said.

You glanced up, startled by the softness in her tone.

"You would do the same for me."

"Aye. But not with such… tenderness."

With the way your heartbeat quickened and each breath seemed harder to take than the previous one, you felt as if the air had considerably thickened.

Searching for a safer ground, you added, "Tenderness is the least I can offer someone who has risked everything for me. Besides, we cannot afford to lose someone with your knowledge and skills. Not now. Not ever."

The words managed to make Brienne smile faintly. But the corners of her mouth quickly fell back down when she noticed you setting the poultice aside and glancing at her bandages. She knew what your expression meant.

"I… I need to check that wound, too. I don't want it to get infected," you said, confirming her thoughts. "May I…"

Brienne's jaw tightened, but she nodded once more. You carefully unwound the binding, the linen sticking stubbornly to the flesh. She tensed but didn't complain.

Controlling your breathing became harder at the sight of her completely bare chest. Her breasts were small, but you couldn't help the thought crossing your mind that they would fit perfectly in a palm –your palm.

Mentally berating yourself for such a lewd thought in such a grave moment as this one, you gently poked around the reopened scar to see how it was healing. You thought about asking Brienne how she had got it to distract you both from what you were doing, but no words came out, and you figured it was best if she didn't waste her energy anyway.

Leaning over her, your breath tickled her skin lightly and, as you dabbed the wound with the damp cloth, your attention got caught by the goosebumps on her skin and her nipples, peaked and taut in the cool air. You immediately averted your eyes, your face burning once more.

"Are you cold?"

"N-No," Brienne stuttered awkwardly after a while as rosy patches formed on her neck and across her upper chest.

The single syllable hung between you, heavy and impossible to ignore.

"You're so different…" Brienne eventually whispered out of nowhere.

You didn't dare ask what she meant. Instead, you rested a reassuring hand on hers, careful but steady.

"Rest now. I'll be here."

"I thought–"

"Rest. I still need to apply yarrow leaves here and there but you can close your eyes now."

Brienne's eyes drifted shut, and her fingers brushed yours before dropping still. You watched the firelight dance across her face and her chest, rising and falling steadily.

Your thoughts churned as you placed crushed yarrow leaves on her face, scraped knuckles, and chest, and adjusted your cloak as a blanket over her, unable to suppress a silent ache of longing and gratitude. Brienne was strong, stubborn, yet startlingly vulnerable and… well, excruciatingly beautiful in her own, unconventional way.

Truth was, Brienne had always unsettled something deep within you, something you had never dared name. You had told yourself time and time again that it was merely admiration, respect for her strength, her relentless honour. But you would be lying if you said there hadn't been nights when her image had haunted you, unbidden and unrelenting –so much that your mind and hands had gone to forbidden places.

You loved the sharpness of her jaw, the fierce intensity in her eyes, and the way she rode her horse with effortless grace despite her imposing frame. Of course, you had long dismissed such thoughts as impossible, shameful even. And yet, seeing her now –scarred, undeniably her and, above all, naked–, the ache you had buried carved its way back to the surface.

The soft rustling of straw pulled you from your thoughts. Brienne stirred, blinking groggily as her gaze landed on you. You straightened abruptly, anxiously waiting for a reaction. Brienne's brows knit in confusion before she noticed your cloak draped across her bare chest.

"You didn't have to," she said, clutching to the hem of it as if the gesture meant more than she let on. Her expression softened –not quite a smile, but something dangerously close. "How long have I been asleep?"

"I'm not sure," you said, standing up to go fill your flask with more decoction and bring it back to Brienne. As she sipped from it, you added, "I had time to add two other logs to the fire and replace the leaves, though."

Brienne glanced at the dirty window near the bed and hummed. The sun was still hiding behind dark clouds, but what little light filtered through them did at a much different angle than when you had first laid her down.

"I'm sorry I left you alone all that time," she muttered.

"Nonsense. You needed to rest. How are you feeling, by the way?"

"Better, much better. Thanks to you."

"I'm glad."

Brienne's gaze lingered on your face with an intensity that made your chest tighten. Determined to regain control, you focused on your task.

"Let me recheck your wounds."

You gently lifted the cloak, mindful to avoid staring at Brienne's breasts again –though her nipples were still deliciously hard– and started cleaning the poultice before inspecting each bruise and scrape with the same care as before.

Brienne kept watching you, smiling ever so slightly at the line that had formed between your eyebrows while you peeled the yarrow leaves off her cuts and scrapes –on her hands first, then on her chest. Finally, you reached for the leaf above her brow. Carefully, you set it aside, then leaned in to examine the cut.

It looked good and had stopped bleeding. But before you could say anything about it, Brienne's hands shot up to cradle your face. She pulled you down firmly then and her lips crashed into yours, fierce, urgent, leaving no room for doubt.

Your breath hitched as Brienne's lips claimed yours, heat surged through you, from your face down to your chest. But then a thought struck like a blade.

So you pulled back, trembling. Not because you didn't want her –you did, you ached for her– but because the world spun too fast. Brienne. Brienne of fucking Tarth… kissing you? You had never dared believe she could want someone like you –or anyone at all, really.

Did she mean this, or was it just a fleeting need, a desperate attempt to feel something other than pain? Was she seeking comfort, something temporary and raw after coming yet again so close to death?

Brienne saw your hesitation and expression twisted painfully, then hardened into something bitter. She scoffed, the sound as sharp as steel grinding on stone.

"Of course," she spat, voice cracking. "Kind words, soft touches… They meant nothing. What was I thinking?"

"Brienne…"

"What an utter fool I am! I should've known. Men mock me, women pity me, even you."

"What? No, I–"

"Don't. You needn't spare my feelings."

"That's not what I–"

"Save it!" Brienne snapped, fists clenched tightly around your cloak. "Everything you have to say, I've heard it all before. I thought maybe, maybe this time… I should have known better."

Before she could retreat deeper into her wounded thoughts, you were the one to crush your lips to hers. She gasped, trembling beneath you and hesitated for a moment, then kissed you back just as hungrily, fingers tangling in your hair like she feared you might vanish. There was no hesitation this time, but though the kiss was passionate, your hands cupped her face delicately and your thumbs brushed over her cheeks as if she were made of glass.

"I wasn't pulling away because I don't want you, Brienne," you confessed when you broke the kiss for air. "I pulled away because I do. More than you know. And I'm scared. Scared that my passion may cause you pain, scared this might not mean what I want it to mean."

Brienne's breath shuddered against your lips as her fingers loosened their desperate grip on your hair, sliding down to your jaw with surprising tenderness. Her eyes searched yours, still wary but now lit with something… alive.

"Do you think I'm not scared, too?" she whispered, her voice heavy with emotion. "I've never… I mean, I have but not like this."

"We can take this slowly if you–"

Brienne shook her head impatiently, then tilted her chin so her lips grazed yours.

"I'm tired of not taking what I want. So, if you'll have me…"

"Yes. Gods, yes."

Something inside you snapped. You claimed her mouth in a kiss far deeper, more insistent. You worried about her wounds and feared she might be in pain, but she met you with equal intensity, pulling you down even closer.

Your hands slid down from her face to her shoulders and bruised collarbones, then lower, finding the strong muscles of her arms that had briefly held you up earlier today. You traced them as if committing them to memory, marvelling at the sheer power contained within her tall silhouette.

Brienne shivered under your touch, and a low, involuntary sound rumbled from her throat as your fingers brushed her bare skin. Emboldened, you let one of your hands travel more daringly to the swell of her breast, enjoying how good it indeed felt in your palm. The sound she made in response sent more heat coursing through you, this time pooling in your belly.

For the first time, you were acutely aware of the heat radiating from her skin and the steady thrum of her heartbeat. When she arched her back to press herself against your body, you seized the occasion to let your mouth trail from her mouth to her jawline, then down the column of her neck, nipping and licking at her pulse point, all the while you made her nipple roll under your thumb.

"Please," Brienne begged, though it seemed she wasn't too sure what for.

But you knew.

"I want to see you," you whispered seductively. "All of you. Touch you everywhere I can."

Brienne's only response was a weak groan and a faint roll of her hips. The vulnerability of the gesture, the trust it implied, sent a jolt of arousal through you. Driven by those sweet sounds, you lowered your mouth, capturing one sensitive nipple while your hand lavished attention on the other. Her fingers tangled in your hair once more, holding you close as she whispered your name like a prayer to both the old gods and the new.

Then, in a matter of seconds –you weren't exactly sure how but you didn't care–, you were both fully naked. You took Brienne's other nipple in your mouth while her hands slid down to your waist. The touch was a bit tentative, as though she feared you might withdraw again. But when you didn't, when instead you leaned into her touch, she grew bolder and her hands tugged you down until you were straddling her.

"Brienne, your bruises…"

"I don't care."

You stopped for a moment to make sure she wasn't lying or trying to be brave, but the eagerness in her eyes and the way she repeatedly pushed her hips into yours encouraged you to keep going.

So you started rolling your hips as well, gently, letting your cores meet for the first time. Brienne's head jerked backwards and arched her back even more, and you could only marvel at the magnificent chiaroscuro the fire burning on the other side of the room created on her alabaster skin.

"You're so beautiful," you murmured as you leaned in again to kiss her temple.

Then you moved to her brow bone and planted gentle kisses around the cut there, a painful reminder of how valiantly she had fought for you.

"So strong…"

With the way she whimpered then, you understood Brienne only half-believed your words but secretly liked to be praised. So you kept showering her with compliments while your hands explored her, tracing every bruise, every scar, every place she might have thought unworthy of touch.

"Keep going," she demanded, voice raw with need.

You obeyed, sliding your hand lower, over the firm lines of her abdomen, until you reached her thighs and the heat between them. Brienne hissed then, and your head shot up.

"Is that not alright?"

"No, it's just… Your hands are cold," she admitted.

"Forgive me."

You pulled back and lifted your hand so you could warm your fingers in your mouth, but Brienne snatched your wrist and brought them to her own lips instead. Her eyelids fluttered as her tongue ran over the pads of your middle and ring fingers, and the sight made you groan.

"Heavens…"

You brought your hand back down between her thighs again, and this time, her breath shattered into a broken moan as your fingers parted her folds, finding her slick and ready. You circled her clit –slowly, at first–, savouring how she writhed beneath you, her body offering no resistance, only hunger.

"Gods, yes!"

Brienne kept moaning and calling your name like a desperate mantra, her legs instinctively parting wider the more you stimulated her bundle of nerves. You watched as she bucked against your hand, her breath coming in ragged gasps, then leaned down again to pepper her body with more pecks and nibbles, kissing her injuries better.

When you finally pushed a finger inside her, Brienne cursed like you never thought could be possible, and her hips rose to meet your thrusts. You set a slow, deliberate rhythm, drawing out every shudder, every broken moan. Then your thumb found her clit, circling with just enough pressure to make her tremble uncontrollably.

"Oh, fuck!"

The more you pumped into her, the more you could feel Brienne lowering her inhibitions and finally being her most genuine self.

"More! I need more!"

What a demanding dame, you thought as your finger kept sliding in and out of Brienne's warm depth. But she had told you she didn't want to wait to get what she wanted any more, so you indulged her and pulled your hand back until you could ease your ring finger inside her as well. Brienne was so relaxed and wet by now that it took practically no effort at all.

Brienne wailed loudly as your fingers stretched her, filling her with a heavenly ache she seemed desperate for. Her thighs quivered against your sides, strong muscles twitching uncontrollably with every deliberate thrust as you slightly picked up the pace. You could feel her slick juices coating your hand as you drove deeper and curled your fingers just right to hit that sensitive spot inside her.

"Right here! Don't stop!" she cried out, voice breaking with unprecedented pleasure.

Your wrist began to hurt, but you obeyed, setting a relentless rhythm, your thumb pressing harder against her swollen clit. You felt like you had no right to be tired when she had not once spared herself for you. So you kept going.

Suddenly, Brienne's leg shifted between yours, pressing firmly against your core.

"Gods, Brienne…"

The pressure made your head spin, your body involuntarily rolling against her muscular thigh as you kept thrusting your fingers inside her. It all felt too good and you couldn’t suppress the needy whimpers spilling from your lips. Your shameless humping made it harder to focus, of course. Yet you didn't stop and your mouth was now making its way down her body, forcing you to shift and let your wetness trail down her skin, coating her all the way to her shin.

When you eventually reached her lower abdomen and nipped at her hip bone, you took a moment to look up, wanting to make sure this was still alright for her. The helpless jolt of her hips was the only sign you needed and, with one last kiss to her mound, you lowered your head to take her bud between your lips.

Her light brown curls were damp from arousal and tickled your nose. Her scent enveloped you –a musky mix of sweat, leather, and something uniquely Brienne, earthy and wild, like wind-swept forests after a rainstorm.

You groaned softly, intoxicated, and pressed your mouth fully against her. Brienne cried out, and, suddenly, her fingers gripped your scalp once more to keep you in place while she practically fucked herself on your tongue.

You circled her clit with your tongue and kept teasing the rough patch behind it relentlessly while your free hand held her thigh tight, no matter how hard her thrusts made it to keep the rhythm going.

"You're so perfect like this, so beautiful," you whispered between heavy pants when you pulled back for a second to catch your breath.

Brienne bucked against your mouth, utterly wrecked, hooked her free leg around your waist to keep you exactly where she wanted, and let out a strangled moan, her whole body tensing under your praise.

You felt her inner walls clench around your fingers, tightening with every thrust as she spiralled closer to the edge. You could also feel your own release creeping closer with every grind, though you never faltered in your devotion to her.

She was close, you knew it. Her pleasure was your command, your entire world reduced to the taste of her, the sight of her, the feeling of her trembling under you. So you took her deeper, sucking gently, taking care of her clit with calculated strokes of your tongue.

"It's alright," you cooed, voice thick with lust and affection. "You can let go."

"Yes!"

With a guttural cry, Brienne came undone. Her entire body arched off the bed, trembling violently, and you felt every pulse, every desperate squeeze of her core around your fingers and thighs locking firmly around your head as wave after wave of ecstasy overtook her.

The leg she had between yours shot up with the force of her climax and parted your own folds so perfectly to brush against your needy clit that you immediately joined her in release, shouting her name at the top of your lungs.

You kept licking, sucking, and thrusting as best as you could during your orgasm and held Brienne through every quivering aftershock until you could move no more and let your head fall limp against her thigh.

"Gods be good…" Brienne panted before one last whimper escaped her lips.

Her hands then gently cradled your face, guiding you back up into her arms. She kissed you with overwhelming tenderness, her lips still trembling, and you kissed her back with equal adoration. Then she smiled at you –a real smile–, and you knew, you just knew, you had had the honour of making Brienne feel like her truest self for the first time.

"It's so different," she mused sometime later.

You had both fully come down from your high and were holding each other close on the small bed while the fire still crackled in the hearth and the rain drummed steadily against the roof, sealing you both away from the outside world.

Your fingers didn't stop their soothing patterns on her upper arm, but you lifted your head, brows knitting in puzzlement.

"Different?"

"When… When it's someone who wants you just as much as you want them, someone who is ready to return the same affection and loyalty you offer them. It's different. It's… better."

Brienne spoke those words in a soft tone, albeit heavy with the weight of old wounds and betrayals. You saw it all in her eyes, and your chest ached with fierce, protective love.

You suddenly felt the urge to hurt anyone who had caused Brienne all that pain, but you knew most of them were dead and it was useless to dwell on the past. So you smiled instead.

Gently, you cupped her face, your thumb brushing tenderly over her cheek.

"Then know this, my lady. As long as I draw breath, you shall never question where you stand with me. You will be loved –fully, fiercely, and without shame."

Slowly, reverently even, Brienne pressed her forehead to yours, exhaling a trembling breath that seemed to release a lifetime of hope.

"I'm no lady," she corrected with a tender smile. "But I am forever yours."

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novaursa · 3 months ago

Text

Legacy (golden roses)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: alliances

- Next part: bloodlines

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The courtyard of the Red Keep was alive with the hustle of the Tyrells' arrival, banners of gold roses fluttering in the breeze alongside the proud crimson of House Lannister. Courtiers and knights lined the pathway, their gazes expectant as the great doors opened to reveal the noble house of Highgarden entering in all their splendor.

You stood dutifully beside Tywin, your arm linked with his, feeling the weight of the moment as much as the eyes of the court upon you. The Tyrells had arrived not just as allies but as future family—ties carefully woven by marriage, ambition, and politics. Tywin stood with the silent authority he was known for, and though he offered no smile, there was a look of satisfaction on his face as he watched the procession.

Beside you, Cersei’s face was set in a tight, forced smile, her eyes hard as she focused on Margaery Tyrell, who walked beside her father, Lord Mace. The young Tyrell lady was as radiant as the tales told—her dress a flowing green that shimmered with gold embroidery, a crown of roses nestled in her hair. She met Joffrey’s gaze with a soft, deferential smile, her demeanor both charming and composed, a true lady of her house.

But more than once, you felt the lingering stares of the Tyrells drifting your way, assessing you, this unexpected Targaryen figure who now stood in Lannister red, her arm linked with the Hand of the King. The glances held curiosity, perhaps even intrigue—a dragon among lions, standing at Tywin’s side as his dutiful wife. You could feel the weight of their silent questions: Was your presence a calculated move? A symbol of Lannister dominance? Or perhaps a reminder that, in King’s Landing, alliances shifted as quickly as the winds.

As the Tyrells approached, Margaery stepped forward, her gaze drifting toward you before she greeted Joffrey with a graceful curtsy. “Your Grace,” she murmured, her voice soft yet clear, each word measured. “It is an honor to finally be here, standing before the crown.”

Joffrey looked down at her, a smirk playing on his lips, clearly pleased with the attention. “Lady Margaery,” he replied, his tone dripping with self-satisfaction. “The honor is ours, I assure you. The realm has awaited your arrival with eager anticipation.”

Cersei’s jaw tightened, but she kept her silence, her gaze drifting toward Margaery with a thinly veiled disdain. You could feel the animosity rolling off her in waves, her displeasure at this new contender for influence beside her son far greater than any resentment she might hold toward you. She cast you a glance, and for a fleeting moment, there was almost a shared understanding between you—both of you had places in Joffrey’s court, yet the power each held was very different.

Lord Mace Tyrell, standing beside his daughter, offered a jovial smile to Tywin. “Lord Tywin,” he greeted, inclining his head. “It brings me great pride to see our houses joined in strength.”

Tywin gave a curt nod, his tone brisk and commanding. “Lord Mace,” he replied. “We are pleased to welcome House Tyrell to King’s Landing. Your support is invaluable to the realm.”

Mace’s gaze flickered toward you, his curiosity clear despite his polite smile. “And, of course, Lady Y/N,” he added, his tone carefully respectful. “It is a rare honor to see a Targaryen within these walls again, though under new colors.”

You returned his gaze evenly, meeting his curiosity with a practiced, serene smile. “The honor is mine, Lord Tyrell. House Lannister’s strength is renowned, and together with Highgarden, I believe the realm will know a time of prosperity it has not seen in years.”

Margaery’s gaze shifted toward you, her expression warm yet watchful. “Lady Y/N,” she said softly, her tone as pleasant as it was probing. “I’ve heard much of your grace and strength. It is heartening to see that the court of King’s Landing has such a presence.”

You inclined your head graciously, noting the calculation behind her polite words. “Thank you, Lady Margaery,” you replied, choosing each word with care. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet the Rose of Highgarden, whose charm and beauty are known throughout the realm.”

She smiled, though her eyes held an unspoken challenge, a silent acknowledgment of the power struggles that permeated every corner of the court. In this subtle exchange, you understood that Margaery was more than a pretty face—she was a strategist in her own right, a lady prepared to wield influence where it mattered.

Tywin’s voice cut through the exchange, his tone brooking no delay. “Come,” he said, gesturing toward the entrance. “We have arranged accommodations for your family, Lord Mace. The feast in honor of our alliance will be held tonight.”

As he spoke, Tywin’s hand rested lightly over yours, a possessive gesture that subtly reinforced his claim on you—a reminder to everyone present that you, Targaryen princess, now bore the name Lannister.

Margaery’s gaze lingered on your joined hands, a glint of curiosity and perhaps even admiration flashing in her eyes before she turned her attention back to Joffrey, who was watching her with a mixture of infatuation and arrogance. You could almost sense Cersei’s irritation growing with every passing moment, her forced smile barely concealing her resentment as she watched Margaery skillfully manage Joffrey’s attention.

The procession moved forward, and as you walked beside Tywin, the weight of the Tyrells’ scrutiny followed. They assessed you with every glance, silently acknowledging the depth of your role here—a Targaryen who, though removed from her throne, had found a new seat of influence at Tywin Lannister’s side.

The murmur of noble voices filled the grand hall as lords and ladies from every corner of the realm mingled with the newly arrived Tyrells. You stayed close to Tywin, his hand resting lightly on yours, a subtle but unmistakable sign of your new life. The weight of his touch reminded the court, and perhaps yourself, of the role you now held beside him.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed two figures weaving through the crowd with purpose: Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers, and his grandmother, Lady Olenna, the indomitable Queen of Thorns. They moved with a confident grace, both observing everything around them with a sharp, assessing gaze.

Loras reached you first, bowing respectfully to Tywin before straightening with a courteous nod in your direction. "Lord Tywin, Lady Y/N," he greeted, his voice polished and respectful. "I wanted to personally offer my greetings on behalf of House Tyrell. We are honored to join forces with such… formidable allies."

Tywin inclined his head, his gaze steady. “Ser Loras, it is we who are pleased. Your family’s strength and influence have been indispensable to the realm.”

Loras's eyes shifted to you, a flicker of interest visible beneath his calm exterior. “Lady Y/N, it’s rare to see a Targaryen gracing the court of the Iron Throne once more.” He smiled, a faint note of admiration in his tone. “I’ve heard tales of your poise and strength.”

You met his gaze with a composed smile, acknowledging his compliment gracefully. “Thank you, Ser Loras. House Tyrell’s reputation precedes it, and I am honored to stand with allies of such renown and nobility.”

Before Loras could respond, Lady Olenna stepped forward, her sharp eyes fixed intently on you as though you were a particularly interesting puzzle she intended to solve. She was smaller than her grandson, but her presence seemed to command the space around her, and she offered Tywin a curt nod before shifting her attention to you.

“Well, well,” Olenna said, her voice wry and tinged with amusement. “So this is the Targaryen girl Tywin’s gone and married. I must say, seeing a dragon in Lannister colors is quite the spectacle. Tell me, dear, how does it feel?”

Her directness startled some of the nearby courtiers, but you managed to maintain your composure, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “It feels… different,” you replied with quiet honesty, choosing your words carefully. “But House Lannister has proven to be a house of strength, and I am honored to be a part of it.”

Olenna’s sharp gaze flickered to Tywin, her expression skeptical. “Strength, indeed. Lord Tywin has built his reputation on it, after all.” She glanced back at you, her gaze softening just slightly. “But I wonder, dear… do you find such strength comforting? Or is it simply another cage?”

You felt the weight of her words, the quiet insinuation lingering in the air. But Tywin’s hand tightened ever so slightly over yours, a silent reminder that you were no pawn, at least not in the way others might think. You turned to Olenna, your eyes steady. “Strength is a complex thing, Lady Olenna. It can be a shield or a cage, depending on how one wields it. I choose to see it as an opportunity.”

Olenna’s eyes gleamed with something resembling approval. “Well said,” she replied, her voice laced with a hint of admiration. “Perhaps there’s more to you than meets the eye, Lady Y/N. Though I suspect that with Tywin as your husband, there would have to be.”

Tywin inclined his head, his gaze cool but respectful. “Lady Olenna, I assure you, my wife is as capable as she is perceptive.”

Olenna’s sharp eyes twinkled with mischief, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Oh, I never doubted that for a moment, Lord Tywin.” She looked between the two of you, her gaze lingering on the way he held you close, as though assessing every nuance of your relationship. “You’ve chosen well, I’ll grant you that. But know this,” she added, her voice lowering, “if there’s anything Lady Y/N requires, anything at all, House Tyrell is more than willing to oblige.”

Tywin’s gaze turned steely, though his tone remained polite. “I appreciate your… concern, Lady Olenna. But I assure you, my wife’s needs are well looked after.”

Olenna raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk on her face as she met his gaze unflinchingly. “Of course, Lord Tywin. But you’ll forgive me if I remain… attentive to matters that interest me.”

With that, she gave a final nod, her expression a mixture of amusement and satisfaction as she turned to leave, Loras following her with a slight, apologetic glance in your direction.

As the Tyrells walked away, Tywin’s grip on your hand relaxed slightly, though he remained silent, his gaze following them as they disappeared into the crowd.

You took a breath, glancing up at him with a hint of amusement. “They’re… certainly a force to be reckoned with,” you murmured.

Tywin looked down at you, his expression firm but softened by a glint of approval. “Yes, but they are also valuable allies. And they see that value in you as well.” He straightened, his gaze sharpening. “Lady Olenna may be testing us, but she won’t find us lacking.”

The following day dawned bright and clear, the air in the gardens of the Red Keep fragrant with blooming roses and jasmine. You walked alongside Sansa, who stayed close to your side, her arm linked with yours as you made your way toward the shaded pavilion where Margaery Tyrell and her handmaidens waited. It was a rare invitation, one that you knew held subtle significance, for Margaery to host a tea with you and Sansa—a gesture that, on the surface, seemed friendly but was undoubtedly layered with deeper intentions.

As you approached, Margaery rose with a warm smile, her eyes bright with a welcoming light. She was dressed in soft greens and golds once more, her hair woven with small flowers that added to her natural beauty. Her handmaidens stood nearby, their gazes lowering in respect as you and Sansa joined them.

"Lady Y/N, Lady Sansa," Margaery greeted, her tone cheerful as she gestured to the table set with delicate porcelain cups, small pastries, and a steaming teapot. "Thank you for joining me. I thought it might be pleasant to enjoy this beautiful morning together."

Sansa offered a polite smile, her hand still resting on your arm. "Thank you for the invitation, Lady Margaery. It’s… lovely out here.”

You inclined your head with a warm smile. “The pleasure is ours, Lady Margaery. The gardens are beautiful, and I see they’re tended with great care.”

Margaery’s smile widened as she gestured for you and Sansa to sit. "I do love the gardens," she admitted as you took your seats. "They remind me of Highgarden, though, of course, there’s nothing quite like the Reach. But it is lovely to find a bit of home, even here."

She poured tea into each of your cups, her movements graceful and assured, a picture of composed charm. Once the cups were filled, she settled back, her gaze drifting between you and Sansa with a spark of curiosity.

“Lady Y/N,” she began, a hint of admiration in her tone. “I must say, it’s a thrill to meet someone of Targaryen blood. I don’t think any of us ever expected to see a Targaryen here in King’s Landing again, especially not as Lady of House Lannister.”

Her words were carefully chosen, and you could feel the curiosity of her handmaidens lingering on you as well. You offered a small, thoughtful smile, acknowledging her interest. “Life is full of surprises, Lady Margaery,” you replied smoothly. “I never anticipated being here myself. But as Tywin’s wife, I find myself in a unique position, one that I am learning to navigate.”

Margaery leaned forward slightly, her expression one of open fascination. “It must be… quite an adjustment,” she said gently. “House Lannister is known for its strength, but I imagine that joining such a family as a Targaryen must come with its own challenges. And yet, you carry yourself with such grace. I imagine you bring a sense of… balance.”

Sansa glanced at you, her admiration clear as she listened, finding comfort in your calm presence. You reached over, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before answering Margaery.

“Strength takes many forms, Lady Margaery,” you replied with a smile. “House Targaryen was known for its fire, but House Lannister commands respect with a different kind of power. I’ve come to understand that strength and unity are what truly bind people together. Tywin and I understand that, and it guides our actions.”

Margaery’s eyes sparkled with interest, though her expression was carefully neutral. “Wise words, my lady,” she murmured, her gaze thoughtful. “It must be quite… exhilarating, to share such influence with Lord Tywin. A man of his reputation and power is certainly not someone one meets every day.”

You met her gaze, your smile softening as you replied, “Exhilarating, perhaps, though it also carries responsibility. Tywin expects much from those close to him. But he has been… respectful.”

Margaery inclined her head, as if pondering your answer. “Of course. Respect is a valuable thing in a marriage, especially one so… strategically placed.” She turned to Sansa, her tone shifting slightly to a more familiar warmth. “And you, Lady Sansa—how are you finding King’s Landing? It must be quite different from Winterfell.”

Sansa’s face paled slightly, but she managed a polite smile, glancing at you for reassurance. “It’s… different,” she murmured, her voice carefully measured. “I miss the North, of course. King’s Landing can be… overwhelming at times.”

Margaery nodded understandingly, her gaze softening. “I can imagine. But you have found yourself in good company.” She gave Sansa an encouraging smile before delicately adding, “And I hear that you and King Joffrey have grown close. How… wonderful it must be to know the king so well.”

Sansa’s expression grew strained, and you felt her hand tense beneath yours. She opened her mouth as though to respond, but her voice faltered, a flicker of fear flashing across her face. You sensed her discomfort and stepped in, your voice smooth and gentle.

“King Joffrey is an… interesting young man,” you said diplomatically, watching Margaery’s reaction carefully. “I’m sure Sansa has learned much from her time here, though I imagine she still holds Winterfell dear.”

Margaery’s eyes flicked between you and Sansa, her own polite mask slipping just enough to reveal a glimmer of understanding—and perhaps even sympathy. “Of course,” she said, her voice softening. “Home is a difficult thing to leave behind. But rest assured, Lady Sansa, I am certain you will always be cherished here.”

Sansa managed a small, grateful smile, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank you, Lady Margaery.”

Margaery’s expression warmed, and she turned her gaze back to you, her tone light yet probing. “And as for you, Lady Y/N… it must be quite a shift from the North to King’s Landing, let alone into the heart of Lannister power. Yet you seem to have found your place here, a Targaryen among lions.”

You smiled, noting the intent behind her words. “I find that adaptability is essential. The North taught me resilience, and here I am learning to use it.”

Margaery’s smile widened, her admiration for you clear. “Wise advice,” she murmured, as if storing away your words for future use. She lifted her teacup, a silent toast to the women gathered here, each maneuvering their own way through the treacherous waters of court.

You returned the gesture, meeting Margaery’s gaze with an understanding that spoke volumes. In that moment, you sensed that she was not merely a rival or an ally; she was a woman navigating a path as perilous as your own, with ambitions that ran as deep as her charm.

And for now, you both understood that sometimes, strength lay in the quiet alliances formed over tea, beneath the watchful eyes of a dangerous court.

The solar was bathed in warm light as Lady Olenna Tyrell sat with a serene air, her sharp eyes flicking over the gathered Lannisters: Tywin at the head, ever the embodiment of control; Cersei seated stiffly with a forced smile; and Tyrion, leaning back with an expression of quiet amusement, savoring every barb that passed Olenna’s lips. The preparations for Margaery’s upcoming wedding to Joffrey had brought them together, and the subtle tension between them charged the room.

Olenna adjusted her lace cap, her gaze sweeping over the parchment before her, filled with lists of arrangements and extravagances. “So,” she began, her tone light but edged with that familiar Tyrell wit. “We’ve settled the colors, the flower arrangements, and the musicians, yet I see here that Lord Tywin has removed the incense. Are we truly to omit something as small as that for a royal wedding?”

Tywin didn’t look up from his own notes, his response curt. “I find it unnecessary. We’ve made enough provisions for spectacle.”

Cersei’s face tightened slightly, her eyes flicking to her father with a hint of frustration. “It’s traditional, Father. Incense at weddings is meant to bless the union,” she said, her tone strained. “Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to include it.”

But Tywin’s gaze remained unyielding. “Lady Y/N can’t stand the smell. It’s unnecessary and will only be an irritation.” His voice carried a finality that silenced any further protest.

Olenna’s eyebrow arched, and a smirk played on her lips. “How very considerate of you, Lord Tywin,” she remarked, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “I hadn’t realized your marriage was such a… tender arrangement.” She leaned in slightly, her gaze flicking between Tywin and Cersei with relish. “I must say, it’s quite charming to see you attending to her preferences so closely.”

Tywin’s expression remained impassive, though a muscle in his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “The wedding is a union of two houses, Lady Olenna, not a festival. We do not need indulgences that serve no purpose other than spectacle.”

Tyrion, barely concealing his grin, raised his goblet in a mock toast. “Here’s to restraint, then,” he said with a gleam in his eyes. “One would think, however, that we could indulge in a small detail or two, for the sake of our honored guests from the Reach.”

Cersei’s lips pursed, her fingers drumming against the table with barely contained annoyance. “I see no reason why Lady Y/N’s preferences should affect the rest of the arrangements. We’re planning a royal wedding, not a dinner party,” she said, her tone laced with irritation. “And frankly, I find the absence of incense a… peculiar omission, considering the grandeur we’re aiming for.”

Olenna chuckled, turning her gaze to Cersei with a conspiratorial air. “Oh, dear Cersei, perhaps we should be grateful. It’s rather refreshing, don’t you think, to see a Lannister so attentive to his lady wife’s needs? A rare quality indeed.” She gave Tywin a mockingly approving nod. “I must say, Lord Tywin, you do surprise me.”

Tywin’s voice was cool, dismissive. “I care only for efficiency, Lady Olenna. A wedding’s success is not measured by the scent in the air.”

But Olenna, clearly enjoying herself, wasn’t about to let the matter rest. “Oh, nonsense. These little details are the very things that people remember. A feast for the senses, after all. And we Tyrells are rather fond of ensuring that our guests are… satisfied.” She gave Tyrion a sidelong glance, her smile widening as she noted his amusement.

Tyrion took the opportunity to interject, his voice laced with mischief. “I must say, I rather agree with Lady Olenna. It’s the smaller, more… memorable details that leave a lasting impression, wouldn’t you say, Father?”

Tywin shot Tyrion a sharp look, his patience clearly wearing thin. “My decision stands. The matter is closed.”

Olenna raised her hands in mock surrender, her expression delightfully unperturbed. “Very well, very well. I suppose the Lannisters’ preference for austerity wins this time. Though I do hope your guests won’t find the occasion… lacking.”

Cersei’s mouth tightened, her displeasure at both Olenna and her father’s favoritism plain. “I don’t see why we’re indulging every whim of hers,” she muttered, just loud enough for the room to hear.

Olenna raised an eyebrow, her sharp gaze fixed on Cersei. “Oh, Cersei, dear,” she said, her tone deceptively sweet. “I should think you’d appreciate a man who considers his wife’s comfort. We wouldn’t want poor Lady Y/N to suffer through something so… trivial, would we?”

Tyrion bit back a laugh, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle, and leaned back, his voice teasing. “You do have to admire Father’s commitment. He’s always been… thorough in his approach to family.”

Tywin’s gaze hardened, but he ignored Tyrion’s jab, his tone cutting as he addressed Olenna. “House Lannister is mindful of efficiency, Lady Olenna. We need not resort to theatrics to secure our position.”

Olenna gave him a sly smile, her amusement unmistakable. “Of course, Lord Tywin. But as you’ll come to see, a little… fragrance can go a long way.” She cast a final look at Cersei and Tyrion, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. “Now, if there are no further changes, I believe we can proceed with the rest of the arrangements.”

The soft afternoon light came through the tall windows of the room as you lounged comfortably on a chaise, a rare moment of quiet in the midst of the chaotic life of King’s Landing. Across from you, Ser Barristan Selmy sat, his posture relaxed but his eyes alert, ever the dutiful guardian. You’d come to appreciate these brief respites in his company, his presence a steady reminder of the loyalty and honor you had once known in your family’s court.

“Does the Red Keep feel familiar to you, my lady?” Barristan asked, his voice gentle, carrying a note of nostalgia. “I remember you here, a child running through these halls. It’s strange how much changes and yet stays the same.”

You gave him a soft, wistful smile. “It’s strange indeed, Ser Barristan. It’s a comfort, at times, to have someone like you nearby—a reminder of what once was.” You paused, feeling the weight of memories, both bittersweet and painful. “But familiarity and comfort are two very different things here.”

Before Barristan could reply, the doors swung open with a sharp creak, breaking the tranquility of the room. Joffrey strode in, flanked by the Hound and Ser Meryn Trant, his expression one of calculated mischief, clearly seeking an opportunity to provoke. His gaze landed on you, a smirk twisting his lips as he looked between you and Barristan.

“Well, well,” Joffrey drawled, his voice carrying an edge of mockery. “Look at you, lounging in the very halls where your family met its end. How ironic.” His gaze flicked to Barristan, his smirk deepening. “And you, old man, lingering like some sad relic. I’m surprised you haven’t faded away with the rest of them.”

Barristan’s eyes narrowed, but he remained silent, his gaze fixed firmly on the young king, his jaw set in restrained anger. You felt his tension, a reflection of your own, but you managed to keep your composure, meeting Joffrey’s gaze steadily.

“Your Grace,” you replied, your tone even but unyielding. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Joffrey’s eyes glittered with sadistic delight as he approached, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture that of a child attempting to play at being a king. “I was simply curious,” he began, his tone feigned innocence. “How it must feel for you, being here, where your family died… where your brother Rhaegar’s children were slaughtered.” He tilted his head, watching for your reaction. “Do you ever wonder if their ghosts still haunt these halls?”

The words hit with a cold clarity, a reminder of the brutality that had unfolded within these very walls. But you held his gaze, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, even as the memories stirred an ache in your heart.

“Children deserve innocence, Your Grace,” you replied, your voice firm but sorrowful. “It is a tragedy that they suffered because of choices they never made.”

Joffrey scoffed, his smirk turning into a sneer. “Innocence,” he repeated mockingly. “Innocence belongs to the weak, like your precious little nephew, Aegon. Or was it… his sister?” He grinned, reveling in the cruelty of his words. “They weren’t very strong, were they? They couldn’t even fight for their lives.”

You felt Barristan shift beside you, his jaw clenched, his shoulders squared in barely restrained anger. His hand drifted instinctively toward the hilt of his sword, his gaze locked on Joffrey with a cold intensity that made the air between them crackle.

Joffrey’s gaze shifted to Barristan, a scowl darkening his expression. “And you, Ser Barristan, stepping in like a loyal hound.” His voice turned sharp, filled with disdain. “Isn’t it ironic that you’re guarding the last Targaryen here, in the very place where you once swore loyalty to her father, the Mad King?”

Without hesitation, Barristan stepped forward, placing himself firmly between you and Joffrey, his expression steely. “My duty is to protect Lady Y/N, Your Grace. That has not changed, nor will it ever,” he said, his voice like tempered steel.

Joffrey’s eyes narrowed, clearly irked by Barristan’s defiance. “Watch yourself, old man. I am your king. Or has loyalty to the throne vanished with your better years?”

Barristan’s gaze didn’t waver. “Loyalty, Your Grace, is earned by deeds, not by titles alone. I have served many kings, but respect must be given, even by a king.”

Joffrey’s face flushed, his hand twitching as if tempted to lash out. He glanced at the Hound and Ser Meryn, his mouth twisting with irritation. “You think yourself wise, don’t you, Barristan?” he sneered, his voice growing venomous. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten who I am, the power I hold. And that includes control over what happens to… traitors.”

You felt your pulse quicken, but before you could respond, Joffrey’s lips curled into a smug smile. “And to think you’re alone here. My uncle, Ser Jaime, was sent away to ensure the Stark boy didn’t overstep his bounds. It’s a shame, really,” he added, his tone laced with mock sympathy, “that you won’t have the pleasure of his company. It must be so… unbearable to reside here with the man who killed your father and is now your stepson.”

The cruelty of his words lingered in the air, a calculated jab that struck at the deepest wounds. You took a steadying breath, letting the silence speak of the depth of your resilience. Barristan remained between you and Joffrey, his stance unwavering, and the sight of his loyalty only strengthened your resolve.

“Your Grace,” you said softly, your tone carrying a steel edge beneath the calm. “It seems that you delight in disturbing the peace of others. But remember that, even as king, respect is not a gift—it is earned. And history has shown us that titles can be fleeting, while loyalty endures.”

Joffrey’s eyes blazed with anger, his face twisting in frustration at your unshaken demeanor. For a moment, he seemed on the edge of a retort, but then he straightened, masking his irritation with a forced smirk.

“Enjoy your peace while it lasts,” he sneered. “We hold the throne now, not the Targaryens. You’d do well to remember that, Lady Y/N.”

He turned on his heel, signaling for the Hound and Ser Meryn to follow. The Hound cast you a lingering glance, his expression unreadable, before falling into step behind Joffrey, leaving you and Barristan in the stillness of the room.

Barristan turned to you, his face softened with concern. “My lady,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a note of regret. “I apologize for his disrespect. It pains me that you must endure such… cruelty.”

You managed a small, grateful smile, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Thank you, Ser Barristan. Your loyalty is a balm against such bitterness. I am grateful to have you by my side.”

He inclined his head, his expression solemn. “My loyalty to you is unwavering, my lady. As long as I draw breath, you will not face this alone.”

In that quiet moment, you felt the warmth of his support surround you, a reminder that, even in a court as treacherous as this one, loyalty still held meaning.

In the privacy of her chambers within the Red Keep, Margaery Tyrell sat with her father, Lord Mace Tyrell, and her grandmother, Lady Olenna. The evening air drifted in through the open window, carrying with it the faint sounds of the bustling capital below. They had gathered to discuss the shifting landscape of King’s Landing, one that now included Lady Y/N Lannister—a Targaryen by blood, yet bound to Tywin by marriage.

Olenna sat comfortably in her chair, her sharp eyes reflecting a keen curiosity. Margaery leaned forward, eager but measured, while Mace looked rather pleased, though it was clear he hadn’t fully grasped the complexities of the situation.

“An intriguing development, wouldn’t you say?” Olenna began, her voice smooth but laced with a touch of sarcasm. “Tywin Lannister, of all people, choosing to wed a Targaryen. I must admit, I didn’t see that coming.”

Margaery nodded, her expression thoughtful. “It certainly adds a… unique dimension to their alliance. A Targaryen standing at the side of the Hand of the King. She carries both the mystique of her bloodline and the strength of her new position.”

Mace chuckled, his tone jovial. “Well, I say good for Tywin! He’s secured quite the prize, hasn’t he? A Targaryen—no one would have thought it possible after Robert’s rebellion.” He leaned back, looking rather pleased with his own assessment. “Our families are stronger together, and that means the realm is safer.”

Olenna rolled her eyes, waving a dismissive hand at her son. “Oh, Mace, honestly. You and your simple notions of safety and unity. We’re not here to pat Lord Tywin on the back for his marriage.” She turned to Margaery, her gaze calculating. “This Targaryen woman may hold more sway than we realize. She’s no fool, that much is clear.”

Margaery nodded, a faint smile playing at her lips. “She has a quiet strength about her, something that commands respect. Even Joffrey seems to view her a treat, which is no small feat. And Tywin… he’s attentive to her. More so than I would have expected.”

Olenna smirked, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Yes, I noticed that as well. The mighty Tywin, bending ever so slightly to the preferences of his Targaryen bride. He dismissed the incense for the wedding preparations simply because she dislikes it. And did you notice how he keeps her close, almost as if he were… guarding her position?”

Mace chuckled again, shaking his head. “Tywin, sentimental? I doubt it. He’s probably just ensuring she plays her role as he sees fit. He’s a practical man, after all.”

Olenna shot him a look that silenced his amusement. “Practical, yes, but he’s no stranger to ambition. This marriage is no simple alliance. Tywin may see her as a symbol of power, a way to consolidate influence even further. A Targaryen in his house strengthens his legacy, gives him claim to a bloodline once thought lost.”

Margaery leaned forward, her gaze thoughtful. “But does she know, do you think, how significant she is to him? She’s composed, polite… but there’s a fire in her eyes, a reminder of her heritage. She’s more than a trophy, and she seems to know it.”

Olenna nodded approvingly, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Indeed. She carries herself with dignity, which is rare enough here. I imagine she has her own plans, her own desires. A Targaryen’s ambition never truly fades, after all. And with Tywin by her side, well… let’s just say it wouldn’t surprise me if she’s thinking beyond mere appearances.”

Mace looked between them, a puzzled expression crossing his face. “So… what does that mean for us? She’s just one woman. We have the Reach behind us; we don’t need to be worried about one Targaryen lady.”

Olenna sighed, shaking her head. “Oh, Mace, you are as blind as you are cheerful.” She turned to Margaery, her eyes sharp. “This isn’t about a single woman. It’s about understanding who holds the power, who commands respect in this city. If Tywin values her opinion, even in small matters, then she holds sway over him, which in turn affects us all.”

Margaery’s gaze was steady, a glint of ambition in her eyes. “And if she’s a woman of influence, then it’s to our advantage to find a way to… understand her better. She’s married into the Lannisters, but I wonder if her loyalties might not still lie with her family’s legacy, with her own history.”

Olenna’s smile deepened. “Precisely, my dear. It’s essential to know her motives, to see if there’s a potential… alignment of interests. She’s clever, certainly, and she values loyalty—she keeps that Stark girl close, after all. That’s a woman who doesn’t sever ties easily.”

Margaery’s eyes brightened at the mention of Sansa. “Sansa does trust her. I could perhaps use that trust to get closer to her. Lady Y/N may be reserved, but she doesn’t seem unreachable.”

Olenna nodded approvingly. “Yes, that’s exactly it. Find a way to befriend her, learn her intentions. She may be our ally yet, or at the very least, a useful source of insight into Tywin’s plans.”

Mace looked somewhat confused, though he managed to nod along. “So… we make friends with her, then? Is that it?”

Olenna rolled her eyes but patted his arm with a resigned smile. “Yes, Mace. We make friends, or at least appear to. Let her believe she has allies here in the Reach. Tywin may hold her in check for now, but who’s to say what she might become in time?”

Margaery took a deep breath, her determination clear. “Then I’ll see to it. A friendship built on trust and understanding… as far as she’s concerned, at least. It would be wise to understand her intentions. And if she truly holds sway with Tywin, then perhaps we’ll find an ally rather than a threat.”

Olenna leaned back, a glint of approval in her eyes. “That’s my girl. Remember, Margaery, knowledge is power, and alliances are forged in places most would overlook.” She tapped her fingers together thoughtfully. “Let the Targaryen think herself welcome. Let her think herself understood.”

The three sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their strategy settling over them, each understanding that in the shifting sands of King’s Landing, even the smallest connection could prove vital. Lady Y/N might be a Targaryen in Lannister red, but her blood carried the fire and ambition that no amount of alliance could truly suppress. And for the Tyrells, that fire was something to observe—and perhaps even harness.

#game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf x reader #asoiaf #fire and blood #house of the dragon #hotd #got/asoiaf #got x reader #got x you #got x y/n #got tywin #tywin x y/n #tywin x you #tywin x reader #tywin lannister #legacy #house lannister #house targaryen

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poisonousrain222 · 4 months ago

Text

cold hands.

sandor clegane x lannister!reader

warnings: violence (one slap in the face from ser meryn), joffrey being joffrey, horrible comfort from sandor but it’s kinda a sweet moment

disclaimer: reader is the daughter of tywin. story is written in third-person pov. inspired by that scene in which sandor gives sansa his cloak but pshhht

1.3k words

Slap.

Ser Meryn’s armored glove clanked as it struck her cheek with full force, whipping her head to the side and causing her to stumble.

The girl’s vision blurred and her eyes began to water, as pain radiated through her face and embarassment coursed through her. She mentally fought to keep her composure, determined not to let her humiliation show. She clenched her jaw, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill, even as she felt blood run down her ruined cheek.

With every ounce of willpower she possessed, she kept her gaze steady on the ground, refusing to give Joffrey the satisfaction of seeing her break.

“She still doesn’t look very remorseful, don’t you think, Ser Meryn?”, Joffrey taunted, a cruel smirk twisting his features.

She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for another blow. In her tense focus, she didn’t hear the massive doors of the throne room creak open.

The expected blow never came. Reluctantly, she fluttered her eyelids open.

“What in the Seven gods are you doing?”, a voice boomed through the hall.

The woman turned, a wave of relief washing over her as she recognized the familiar voice. Her tense shoulders relaxed slightly and a glimmer of hope sparked in her eyes. Tyrion. Despite the throbbing pain in her cheek, she felt a surge of hope knowing that her brother had arrived, as he strode purposefully towards her, Ser Bronn following closely at his heels.

“First your own lady and now your aunt?”, Tyrion spat, his face contorted with rage. His grey eyes glared at Joffrey, burning with a mix of disgust and fury. “Pray tell, your Grace, what grievous offense has warranted such treatment?” Tyrion’s voice dripped with sarcasm, his gaze sweeping across the room, taking in the silent knights who stood by, complicit in their inaction.

Joffrey straightened, his chin jutting out defiantly. “She disrespected the king! I have every right to punish insolence as I see fit.”

Tyrion’s laugh was sharp and humorless. “Ah yes, the divine right of kings to beat defenseless women. How could I forget?”

He moved closer to stand beside his sister, while keeping his gaze fixed on Joffrey. “Tell me, nephew, does it make you feel powerful? To strike someone who can’t strike back?”

The young king’s face flushed red with anger. “You cannot speak to me like that!”

“I speak to you as someone who should know better”, Tyrion retorted, his voice now low and dangerous. “As someone who is supposed to protect his subjects, not terrorize them. Especially not his own family.”

Joffrey’s face contorted with a mix of fury and confusion, clearly unused to being challenged so directly. His eyes darted between Tyrion and his aunt, searching for a way to reassert his authority. Before he could respond, Tyrion already continued speaking.

“Clegane”, he addressed the Hound, sworn shield of the king. “Escort the lady to her chambers.”

The large man nodded curtly and strode from his position beside the throne, swiftly approaching the woman. He marched past her, his heavy footsteps echoing through the throne room and didn't slow or turn, clearly expecting her to follow without a word. The lady, her head still bowed, hesitated for a moment before falling into step behind him.

The Hound’s pace was brisk, and she found herself having to quicken her steps to keep up with his long strides. She kept her eyes fixed on the ground, watching the hem of his cloak sway with each step, too stubborn to look up and meet the curious or shocked gazes of those they passed.

As soon, as the heavy doors fell shut, she noticed his pace slowing ever so slightly.

“You really gotta learn when it’s smarter to just shut your mouth, girl”, he grumbled and glanced at her from over his shoulder. The sight of her was almost pitiful, her bruised face a stark contrast to her usual composed appearance.

Though, this wasn’t the first time she has been ‘disciplined’ for questioning or disrespecting various lords and ladies. It wasn’t well-kept information – everyone knew. The Hound already has been witness of her inability to hold her tongue multiple times and how it had Lord Tywin fuming. One could only imagine she hadn’t been much different in her childhood.

Her eyes lifted slightly, but not quite high enough to meet his face. His brutal honesty shouldn’t be surprising, yet it still caught her off-guard. And she certainly wasn’t in the mood for lectures as of now.

“I will not allow them the satisfaction.” She spoke with unwavering determination, proving once again that her spirit could not be broken so easily.

Quicker than she had expected from a man of his size, he spun around and grabbed hold of her upper arm roughly, his fingers completely closing around it. “Then you’re fucking stupid”, he growled.

Her eyes widened at his unexpected movement and she felt frozen in place, trapped by his grip and the intensity of his stare. Her lips parted to defend herself against his crude insult, but he interrupted her before she could even begin. “If it wasn’t for your brother, the king would’ve had you beaten senseless.”

The smallest flicker of horror flashed across her face, but the Hound betrayed not a single hint of empathy, his features as hard and cold as stone. She blinked and averted her gaze in defiance, frowning at the floor instead. Her chest ached with the urge to cry and scream at him, but an overwhelming exhaustion was consuming her and weighing her down. Her bones felt heavy and every beat of her heart sent waves of pain through her throbbing cheek.

“I shall survive”, she mumbled quietly and attempted to rip her arm out of his grasp – with no success. His strong hand remained effortlessly unmovable. Her gaze snapped up, hard eyes meeting even harder ones.

Instead of answering, he only shook his head in disregard of her obstinance and released her from his grip. The memory of his harsh touch still lingered on her skin.

She expected him to turn away and resume their walk through the halls. Instead, he shot her one last unreadable glance and reached into a pocket beneath his armor. The girl watched with a mix of curiosity and defiance, as he pulled out a washed-out white cloth.

Her gaze, now filled with only confusion, shot back to his face. His eyes didn’t meet hers, as they were fixated on her cheek.

“Don’t move”, he grumbled and brought the cloth up to her face with his overly large hand to dab the blood away, oddly gentle. The proximity made her feel even smaller than usually in his presence.

Her first instinct was to back away, to avoid his touch — yet she didn’t. She obeyed and stayed still, though she didn’t fully understand why. She knew this man to be a cold-blooded murderer, killing gladly and even for his own satisfaction. Yet now, this very same man was cleaning her wound, being even careful not to cause her more pain than neccessary. The hands, which only brought harm and death, were now offering this unexpected gentleness.

It was both perplexing and oddly comforting, it made her feel intrigued in a way she was unfamiliar with.

A sudden sting shot through her face and the girl flinched, to which the Hound only murmured something about her overreacting. His free hand roughly cupped her jawline and turned it to the side to grant him better access to the fresh scratches.

When he deemed his work to be done, he took a step back. His expression was as unwelcoming as always. Before she could thank him, he shoved the cloth into her chest carelessly. “Keep it.”

Without another glance, he swiftly turned around and continued their original way with fast strides, his cloak swaying behind him. The girl, standing dumb-foundedly in the halls for a moment, quickly snapped out of her thoughts and hurried after him.

A man more confusing than him was simply impossible, she thought and looked down at the bloodied piece of fabric in her hands.

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#sandor x reader #sandor clegane x reader #game of thrones x reader

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satinroses · 8 months ago

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Off the beaten path

Yan! Albedo x reader x Yan! Susbedo

4874 Words

GN! reader

Summary: Albedo has been frantic about keeping you far away from Dragonspine for reasons unknown but when Sucrose asks you to go to Dragonspine to gather some ingredients for her you can’t help but go there however when you arrive Albedo doesn’t seem at all upset over your sudden arrival in Dragonspine… rather he seems uncharacteristically enthusiastic.

guys this is my first fic so erm I'm sorry if it’s really bad :[

Warnings: typical yandere behaviours, non-con kissing, both Albedos being little creeps, Y/N needs a break and has official permission to execute them both, Y/N is a smidge naïve, Manipulation, gaslighting

The brisk air of Dragonspine doesn’t sit gently in your lungs, instead its crispness demands your attention. Each breath is invigorating. You were never one to focus on meditation or breathing techniques, seeing little interest in self-reflection or mindfulness however on mornings like this one on Dragonspine with the bright morning sun rising to full mast you couldn't help but feel rather contemplative.

Admittedly you were not as alchemically inclined as your lover, the chief alchemist of the Knights of Favonius however when sucrose entered Albedo’s office late at night in a state of utter disarray as the samples of flora she had procured from Dragonspine had seemingly vanished from under her very nose you couldn’t help but take pity on the poor girl in her panic. Tomorrow morning she would be too busy refining the remaining electro hypostasis’ lightning prisms from her last journey outside the walls of Mondstadt for yet another experiment… She simply wouldn't be able to make the trek to Dragonspine and back while also completing all of her tasks but despite her pleading the knights were far too busy to waste their time collecting mere greenery.

You shifted on your feet, you always thought she held herself to a far harsher standard than she deserved, constantly focusing on her shortcomings as Albedo’s apprentice rather than acknowledging what an accomplished and gifted alchemist she was in her own right. You walked towards the distraught green-haired alchemist, firmly grasping her on each shoulder. At your steady grasp sucrose looked up at the reassuring smile you gave her “Sucrose! Don’t fret so much, you’ve already done more than enough. I’ve got it handled, I’ll head to Dragonspine first thing tomorrow morning and I'll have the samples for you before lunchtime.” For the first time since Sucrose entered the room you could feel your lover's eyes rising from the notebook where he had been scrawling away his recent findings for the past few hours, his turquoise eyes piercing into your body as though if he stared hard enough he’d be able pierce your subconsciousness and reprogram you, as though if he impressed his vision into you long enough you would eventually be remade in his vision, as though staring could somehow convince you to rescind your offer.

Although Albedo was typically indifferent about how you spent your time and who you associated with, you couldn't help but notice that recently he had been very clearly trying to shepherd you away from the snowy peak of Dragonspine. Any ideas of visiting him while he was working was quickly shot down with a “It’s not worth the trek, most of my work in Dragonspine will be done soon enough, there is no point in journeying all that way”. Any mentions of stopping by to drop off some warm food for himself, Sucrose and Timaeus was quickly halted with a “we pack more than enough food and there are plenty of braziers around the camp, please don't worry yourself” much to the dismay of Timaeus. It felt as though every attempt to come see him working had been instantly stopped by some rebuttal he had regarding it as a waste of time and energy.

It would be a lie to say your heart didn’t ache with every blatant refusal to your attempts to visit him on the mountain. He let Kaeya, Klee and Sucrose visit him freely but he seemed particularly insistent that you do not come to Dragonspine, that you don't even entertain the idea. In spite of Albedo's recent reluctance for you to venture to the frozen mountain, you refused to be deterred. This particular voyage was not a selfish endeavour for your own entertainment… no! Sucrose needed your help and you refused to let her down. It would be a breeze to wander about the mountain picking flowers for a little while before meandering back to Mondstadt to what would likely be a hero’s welcome from the young woman, besides with your pyro vision strapped to your waist you sincerely doubted any hillichurls would be causing you issues and you knew well enough to steer clear of any Fatui outposts placed along the winding frozen pathways.

The mint-haired woman let out a deep sigh of relief, her breathing steadying as she looked at you hopefully “really?! You will? Thank you so much Y/N I- I don't know how to repay you I-'' you laughed warmly at the girl’s gratitude “think nothing of it! It’ll be a piece of cake, besides I haven't left Monstadt’s walls in weeks, going out and exploring will do me some good.” It seemed as though this past month almost every commission took place within the walls of Mondstadt, if you had to clean that blasted statue of Barbatos or tell that creep Albert to knock it off one more time you were going to go crazy, on the rare occasion you were given a commission that left the walls of Mondstadt it was something mundane like a food delivery to Springvale and back. You hadn’t had a single combat commission in weeks. you had filed several complaints to Katherine about the distribution of commissions and despite her promises to reach out to her higher ups regarding potential flaws in the commission distribution system, she still hadn't gotten back to you.

With Sucrose’s issue resolved and her mind soothed you gently guide her to the door of Albedo’s office “It’s getting late and I’m sure you’ll have a busy day tomorrow” you say to her, clasping the bronze door handle and holding the door open “I’ll see you tomorrow, verdure in tow!” you exclaimed as you watched the girl amble over to the exit of the Knight’s headquarters, waving you a polite goodbye.

You softly shut the thick oak door to Albedo’s office not wanting to disturb the diligent genius, taking his silence during your conversation with sucrose as a sign of him returning to his work. Ever the academic, Albedo rarely allowed himself to be distracted from a task once he had dedicated himself to it, however upon turning around you were greeted by Albedo still staring at you intently, his eyes having never once left your frame. His pupils were dilated, the darkness engulfing his iris leaving only a sliver of blue as an outermost ring. He didn’t blink as though afraid you would slip from his grasp the moment he shut his eyes. His body was still, his entire being focused on watching you as though he was waiting for something to happen. He hadn’t written a word since your mention of Dragonspine, his studies completely paused as his pen stayed pressed on his crisp white notepad, a thick ink blot seeping into the page and staining it but in spite of this, the observant Albedo didn’t make any effort to move the pen.

Seeing Albedo so on edge subsequently had you unsettled. You gently walk across the plush red carpet approaching Albedo, taking the pen out of his hand and setting it down on his desk before he could further sully his work. Only upon your contact with him did he seemingly snap out of the daze he was in, blinking softly. His eyes still zeroed in on you but they seemed softer, less frantic. Upon setting the pen down you began to wrap your coat around your shoulders “you know what i said to sucrose is right, i should be heading home soon before i have to bump into the crowd of tavern crawlers on their way from The Cat’s Tail to The Angel’s Share” you joke gently attempting to lighten the mood, Albedo barely manages a smile at your jest. instead getting up and shoving his arms haphazardly into the sleeves of the jacket he stripped off hours ago “let me walk you home. It’s getting far too dark for you to be wandering about Mondstadt alone. I wouldn't be able to rest well unless I knew you made it back safely.” You smile bashfully at the consideration he's shown for you.

“Oh Albedo, i don't want to be a bother I'm sure you have plenty of things to-”

“I insist.”

“Well if you insist” you smile softly, your heart fluttering at his show of chivalry

You nodded and fiddled with the buttons of your coat, your fingers trembling as Albedo stood by the door waiting for you to be ready to leave. Upon noticing your battle with your buttons Albedo quickly faced you as he placed your hands by your side to instead button your coat up himself. The moment you were suitably clothed to brace the cool Mondstadt evenings Albedo’s arm snaked around your waist as he ushered you out of the Knight’s headquarters. Your cheeks warmed at his gesture as the reserved alchemist’s hand enclosed your waist tightly, pulling you closer into him as though he was trying to mould you together, unable to be separated by anyone or anything. You attempted to initiate some small talk as you wandered through Mondstadt, however Albedo hardly noticed. He muttered vague replies or made noises of affirmation as you discussed your day and how cold it had been recently and how excited you were for the next Windblume festival. Instead Albedo’s eyes were fixed intently on the shadows the dim streetlamps of Mondstadt cast as though a ghost was about to peer out from one of the alleys. As you reached your home you opened the door yet Albedo's hand didn't move from your waist. You stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to release you from his grasp but he didn’t move his hand until several awkward seconds had passed before he hesitantly allowed you to walk through your front door. “Goodnight Albedo” you whisper gently before pressing a gentle peck to his cheek. You disappear behind your door trying to forget about Albedo’s peculiar behaviour tonight, fretting about what could have possibly made him so troubled. In spite of your concern about Albedo’s recent behaviours you slipped into an uneasy sleep, unaware of how he remained steadfastly on your doorstep like a statue keeping watch until the sun began to peak over the rolling hills of Mondstadt and he reluctantly retired to his own abode.

●・○・●・○・●・

The crunch of the fresh layer of snow beneath your shoes invigorated you as you continued your trek along the mountainside. Your head felt light as you inhaled the overwhelming saccharine scent of the half dozen sweet flowers you had found, your hand clutching the stems of the flowers gently, determined to bring Sucrose back the best possible samples. Alas you couldn’t help but feel as though your luck had all but run out when you began to search for mint. Perhaps some traveller had plucked the last of it in this area or maybe you were just unlucky. You bent over in the snow, your head almost grazing the ground as you sifted your hands through the snow hoping your fingers might latch onto even a mint sapling, that perhaps the constant winter snowfall had simply covered up all the fresh mint. After a few minutes of sifting through the mountainside snow you began to instinctively reach for your weapon as a distinctly humanoid presence loomed over you… there shouldn't be Fatui this far from the main path but perhaps these were scouts for a larger group. You held your breath not wanting the person to realise you were aware of their presence until you were ready or you were forced to act, likely the latter. As several minutes passed and you still pretended to be focused on the frost dusted ground beneath you rather than the presence looming over your form you were confused as to why they hadn’t approached yet… perhaps it was just some freezing adventurer too sheepish to ask for help so they were simply waiting to be noticed… or perhaps it was an inquisitive little snow fox or boar who would scurry away the moment you acknowledged it yes, that sounded much better. You would turn around and be greeted by some shy little forest animal who would flee the moment you acknowledged it. Yes. That was it. Nothing bad is behind you. You began to repeat in your head as you rested your numb hands on the hilt of your weapon before taking a deep breath and turning around.

Of all the potential scenarios you imagined being greeted by, seeing Albedo staring at you in utter shock was not one of them. You exhaled softly before you began to chuckle in relief, pressing your hand over your thumping heart as you chastised your over-active imagination. You smile gently “‘Bedo I didn't think I’d bump into you, what are you doing on this part of the mountain?” You awaited a response yet you weren’t greeted by one, you looked back up at Albedo but instead of him offering you a small smile or him trying to usher you off the mountain he simply stood there staring at you as though it was the first time he had truly seen you. He drank in deep breaths, his mouth slightly agape as his eyes danced across you, blinking softly as though trying to dispel some sort of illusion “Albedo? Everything okay?” you ask gently, your mind already on slight alert after his peculiar behaviour last night. Suddenly he let out a deep gasp as he stuttered out “what are you doing here? I thought… i thought you weren’t fond of Dragonstone…” you look up at Albedo in utter confusion “Not fond…? Albedo what are you talking about, you’re the one who practically forces me off the mountain” you say, half joking, half serious.

Albedo’s gaze becomes cold as he spits out “of course I do” with a venom unfamiliar to his voice, his eyes glaring into the ground with such profound hatred it startles you. He quickly remembers your presence and haphazardly attempts to regain his composure with a deep breath and a few blinks before he says in an even tone “then what are you doing here then Y/N? Shouldn’t you be in Mondstadt?” Your heart beat steadily accelerates as you feel your skin crawling as Albedo stares at you, his gaze seeping into your skin as he drinks in every little detail, his eyes fixating on every mole and birthmark and freckle, desperately imprinting them into his mind like this is the last time he might ever see you “we discussed this last night remember? I’m looking for some flowers for Sucrose’s experiment” you state, your voice tight as my body tense like a coiled spring ready to launch itself out of the grasping hands of the alchemist.

Albedo puts his hand on his chin as he begins to mutter “Sucrose… Sucrose… Sucrose… Sucrose!” he had sounded utterly befuddled by the mention of her until the final mutter of Sucrose seemed to ignite some spark of familiarity, like Sucrose was more of a passing acquaintance rather than his most promising protégé.

“Yes of course Sucrose needed some flowers like we discussed last night”

“Yes that would appear to be the case” You giggled breathlessly, trying to ignore the pit of bile bubbling in your stomach “I just want to find some mint and then I'll begin the trudge back to Mondstadt”

“Oh… some mint? I think I know where you might be able to find some”

“O-Oh are you sure I don't want to be a bother and I don't want to get in the way of anything or be a nuisance or knock something important over in your lab” You stuttered out sheepishly, trying to find any way to get back to Mondstadt.

“Nonsense I’ve set up a temporary second camp just a little ways up the mountain, follow me. I’m sure we’ll find plenty of flora up there”

“Okay yes you’re right” You beam trying to ignore how tight the grin feels, like your skin is cracking underneath it. He holds out his soft cool palm waiting for you to grab it. You gently settle your hand in his unable to hear how his breath hitches softly as your numb fingers are clutched by his, a barely noticeable flush spreading across his complexion. Each step in the direction of this second camp makes your foot feel heavier until eventually you’re practically shuffling through the snow. As you wind through the passageways of the mountain you can’t help but feel like you’re going far too high but each time you ask Albedo about the new camp’s location you’re greeted by the same excuse “just a little ways further.”

“‘Bedo…” you stutter out “I should turn back, I need to get these flowers back to Sucrose soon. I promised she’d have them by lunchtime and the sun is getting rather high”

He stopped in his tracks, the hand that had been grasping onto yours tightens with an unnatural grip “but we’re almost there” he smiles out, the smile far too large and toothy to look natural on him, mimicking a lion baring its teeth far more than a reassuring grin “just a little further” he repeats once more as he continues up the path, your hand still held tightly in his. You had followed him for as long as your reason had allowed but now you were venturing into parts of Dragonspine unknown even to you as he dragged you up yet another beaten path. You smile half heartedly, trying to ignore the primal sensation of fear when Albedo smiles at you, the undeniable emotion of something being deeply wrong every time he tightens his hold on your hand.

You stop walking and begin to try to coax your limb out of his grip but the gentle tugging of your hand out of his makes his smile drop. He balls his now empty fist as he pauses and stares down the offending limb as though it had personally wronged him. you stare at your feet, your eyes darting between your snow scuffed boots and the sweet flowers clasped tightly in your other hand as you try to avoid albedo’s gaze permeating through you. Albedo’s lack of social adeptness was often something you found endearing, another quality which raised the alchemist’s standing in your eyes but right here in the crisp morning air of Dragonspine with the sun shining far too bright, there was never another quality you despised more. The chief alchemist simply stared. you tried to move. You could apologise to Albedo for your behaviour later but as you were about to move your legs his fist grasped onto your wrist with a bruising grip. You reflexively dropped the sweet flowers that you had kept grasped securely in your hand as Albedo’s cold hand fixed around your wrist. You couldn't find it in your panic stricken haze to even think about the flowers that were now resting on the cold mountain snow.

You yelped out in pain before looking up at Albedo for an explanation for his sudden change in demeanour. He offered none, instead he shifted his cold, stiff body closer against yours so your fronts were pressed together, chest to chest. He breathed down on your face, his breath wasn’t warm or wet like you had expected, instead it felt cool on your skin. Snowflakes settled on his long lashes as his pupils dilated, flickering to your lips. You stood stock still as confusion began to cloud your mind. Albedo’s gloved other hand rose to your lips, gently caressing them. “So warm…” he muttered absentmindedly as he traced the curve of your cupid's bow before his finger fell down to your lower lip. You enclosed your only free hand around Albedo’s, coaxing his fingers away from your lips instead you placed it down by his side “‘Bedo… I promised Sucrose those flowers, I need to get back to Mondstadt soon” his expression hardened before he finally acquiesced. Albedo’s dismay at you having to leave so soon was apparent until a mischievous glint alit in his eye. He tightened his grip on your arm before he whispered against your lips “I'll let you return to Sucrose if you promise me adequate compensation…” you could have laughed at the absurdity of Albedo’s demands “compensation?” you guffawed “You can't be serious Albedo.” he pulled you closer, no space was left between you as he tittered airily, running his hand softly through your hair “shh shh shh… I don't want mora and I don't want favours, I just want” his cheek flushed pink in spite of the confidence he exuded as he breathed out “I just want a kiss. That's all.” You were perplexed at Albedo’s request, since your relationship with the chief alchemist had been formalised he had rarely felt the need to formally ask for permission to kiss you but the Albedo here and now was blushing like a virgin at the mere thought of it.

Typically you might have questioned his sudden change in behaviour but with some divine intervention seemingly handing you a way out of this awkward exchange on a golden platter you didn’t feel inclined to throw it back in the face of whichever archon had decided to bless you with this opportunity. Instead you leaned in softly before pressing a gentle, hesitant kiss to Albedo’s lips. To your relief his remaining grip on your hand loosened as your lips skimmed his but the sudden slackness didn't seem to affect just his hand but rather his whole body as he didn't kiss you back. Instead Albedo kept his eyes tightly shut as his entire body froze, the only part of his body that seemed tense was his furrowed brows. It was as though he were in a state of deep contemplation, focusing only on memorising the feeling of your warm lips on his. With his attention completely on the feeling of your mouth slotted against his own and his arms resting loosely by his sides, you took the chance to quickly separate yourself from him, turning away and fleeing along the frosty pathway down the mountain in a desperate attempt to escape the unnerving encounter.

You couldn’t hear Albedo calling out to you or following behind you so once you had made significant distance between where you and Albedo had been standing you turned to face him. To your surprise Albedo hadn’t moved an inch, he stayed exactly as you had left him, as though suspended in the moment in which your lips left his. The only difference is that this time his eyes were ignited with a cold determination, a look you knew to be unique to Albedo when he made a breakthrough experiment, when he found an ingredient he had been scavenging for months to find, when he finally located a dusty old tome or scrap of paper which had the information he needed and now when he stared at your frame scurrying down the mountain. As the base of the mountain came into view and your nerves began to settle you realised that in your desperation to get away you had left the flowers on the snowy ground. You halted for half a second, your foot pivoting as you prepared to venture back up the winding path but as your eyes met the incline up the mountain you were filled with paralysing nausea. Every single instinct in your body was fighting against the idea of going back up the mountain. Whatever interaction you and Albedo had shared up there, a raw, primitive, instinctual part of you knew that it had been wrong, that it had been off, that if you went back up the path then you truly believed you would not make it back down the mountain for a second time.

●・○・●・○・●・

Almost slipping down the mountain in your haste to escape your peculiar encounter with Albedo you didn't dare stop until you reached the Adventurer’s camp on the outskirts of the mountain where you finally felt the hammering of your heart slow for the first time this morning now that you had escaped the sheer cold of Dragonspine but even then with Albedo’s peculiar behaviour these past few weeks and in particular today you still couldn't feel at ease, even as you began to trudge out of the Adventurer’s camp and back towards Dadaupa Gorge.

You almost did a double take when you saw a frantic Albedo hurrying towards Dragonspine, his hand resting tightly on the hilt of his cinnabar spindle, his body tensed and ready to pounce. “...Albedo…? How did you get down here so fast?” you called out, eyeing the alchemist wearily. You had never felt more bewildered. Upon hearing you call out to him Albedo’s hand loosened on the hilt of his blade. He ran to you and wrapped you tightly in his arms, one arm wrapped around your waist so tightly it was suffocating you, the other clawed into your hair, his fingers digging into your scalp. He pulled you close as he had on the mountain however this time he buried his head into your neck as he inhaled deeply.

As you stood there embracing the startled alchemist you could feel just how intensely his hands were trembling but you couldn't help but pry for answers in your state of bewilderment. You were certain Albedo had been behind you as you descended the mountain and even if he had followed you down (which you suspected he had) how would he have gotten ahead of you? Albedo hadn’t been leaving Dragonspine when you met him here but rather he had been approaching, he had to have come from the direction of Mondstadt. You asked louder this time “Albedo, how did you get ahead of me?” You were up on the mountain last time I saw you.” At your declaration Albedo finally peeled his from your neck, his manic eyes darting across you assessing for any damage before he finally seemed to regain some semblance of awareness “how did i… i know dragonspine like the back of my hand Y/N. it wasn’t hard to overtake you” Albedo stated trying to steady his voice. Although it’s likely the Alchemist knew the Mountain far better than you did… you didn’t fully believe him. You couldn't fully believe him. Not when you saw how terrified Albedo had seemed as he bounded towards the mountain in such a distressed state you almost didn't recognise the alchemist, not when you felt just how tightly he had clutched onto you as though you were about to slip through his fingers, not when you could feel how frantically his heart was beating as he held you to him.

You continued to insist Albedo explain what had happened, why he had been acting so strangely. The expression in Albedo’s eyes was unreadable, something you had never seen in the chief alchemist’s eyes before, something almost reminiscent of fear. As you both traversed down galesong hill towards the city of freedom you stopped Albedo and turned him to face you as you whispered in a pleading tone “Albedo please… just explain to me what happened up there. I’m not upset with you, I'm just confused. What happened up there? You seemed rather out of sorts.” Albedo’s lips grew into a thin line, the expression on his face was a grim one but instead of any explanation he simply pressed the back of his palm to your forehead “you’re burning up” he mutters. Yet again Albedo’s actions fill you with nothing but confusion.

“Burning up? What are you talking about Albedo? I feel fine just please, answer my question” you cry out, frustration beginning to rise as he dances around your question yet again

“Yes, you’re shivering too and it’s clear you’re in a state of confusion, from these symptoms I’d estimate that you’re suffering from the early stages of hypothermia” Albedo says in an even, methodical tone

“H-hypothermia? Albedo what on Teyvat are you-?” you pause as Albedo begins to take off his coat, wrapping it tightly around your shoulders

“Honestly you should have dressed warmer if you were planning to go to Dragonstone, you need to take better care of yourself Y/N. now come on, you’ll need to be treated for this but I'll only be able to do it back in Mondstadt where we can warm you up” Albedo said wrapping his arm around your waist as he began to walk even faster towards Mondstadt, keeping you tucked closely into his side. You didn’t feel weak and you didn’t feel tired, the rational part of your mind wanted to doubt Albedo’s diagnosis but an equally significant part of you wanted to accept what Albedo said, to dismiss this whole morning as some strange illness induced hallucination. yes that must be it... You insisted internally. You’re unwell and this illness is messing with your head like Albedo says. You’re not being completely rational so right now just need to trust Albedo and head back to Mondstadt for treatment and you need to forget how Albedo keeps glaring at Dragonspine with pure loathing as though daring the mountain itself to come and try to take you from him, It must just be the cold getting to you.

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 7 months ago

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the heist

the wistful wyvern, chapter five

a/n: HEIST TIME, BABYYYY!!

summary: eventually, after you thought the palace couldn’t unfold any further, you finally came upon the chamber that you sought.

warnings: knight!bucky barnes x knight!reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, ex-friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, former fuckboy!bucky, tattooed!bucky, slow burn, one-sided pinning, forced proximity, ball, heist, kissing, violence, injuries, cliffhanger

word count: 3535

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With city walls high enough to shade the outer rim of the town, Ingorn, the capital of the southern kingdom, was notoriously operated under tight supervision. One could not simply wander in or out of the city, a key factor that had managed to worry you to the point that your stomach was still in knots long after you and Bucky had successfully blended in among everyone else and sneaked your way inside through the main gate.

The central castle towered behind you as you now found yourself tugged away in the shadows of one of the small alleys that made up the vibrant and bustling market. The stick in your grasp dragged through the dirt as you explained with the aid of your spontaneous battle map.

“…and then we slip out,” you moved the little pebbles you’d found to help the visualisation, “right under their noses,” Bucky’s eyes then flickered up from the map at your feet to flash you his slightly apprehensive expression, “it’ll be fine, we’ll be fine,” you tilted your head, “and if not, you know, the food on the inside isn’t as bad as people think.”

Tossing the stick, you then dragged your boot over the drawing to erase it.

“Alright,” you exhaled, “step one,” and cast your glance out the dim alleyway to the seamster across the street, “we gotta look the part in order to blend in.”

Seizing a goblet of wine as a waiter passed, “here,” you handed it off to Bucky beside you, who was visibly fighting every instinct in himself to not undo the tight top buttons of the black ensemble he now wore, “don’t actually drink it.”

As you both scanned the ballroom meticulously, you slinked your arm in his to blend in with all of the other couples at the party.

“So,” you murmured above the music, “we know the king has a copy of the key, as well as his head of security, Commander Abbot.”

“Which are both too risqué,” Bucky chimed in as his gaze checked in the opposite direction to you, “so we’ll have to go with the last option.”

“Crown Prince Callum,” you elaborated, only seeing drunken gambling and dancing duos for as far as your eye would take you.

“Mhm,” he hummed, then swiftly nudged your side lightly as he spotted the aforementioned royal, “purple dress shirt, to your left,” he subtly pointed him out for you, “the keys are on his belt.”

After slyly sneaking a peek at the royal standing further down, mid-conversation with a monocle-wearing gentleman, you let out a heavy sigh and tugged the neckline of your blue gown down further, “gods, why couldn’t you have been his type?”

But when you turned to grab the wine goblet out of Bucky’s grasp, he only bit down a laugh and winked, “good luck.”

Making your pace brisk, you neared the prince just as he began to turn. Clutching the full glass of burgundy wine in your hand, you purposely collided with the noble and spilt the drink all over his purple tunic.

“Oh gods,” you faked a gasp and stared down at the stain, “your highness! Please forgive me, I didn’t see where I was going, I–… I’m so sorry.”

The immediate anger that began to blossom on Prince Callum’s face withered and faded when his gaze did a double take as you bashfully batted your eyelashes at him.

As you swiftly grabbed a napkin from the nearby buffet table to hand off to him, he simply breathed, “ah, it’s–…” as his stare was too busy dropping to your cleavage to notice how yours dipped to the keys dangling from his belt, “it’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I mean, you can barely even notice the stain,” he glanced down at the faint mark, “so that’s lucky.”

“I’m still so sorry, I really should have been looking where I was going.”

After he let his stare linger even longer, the crown prince then blinked, “forgive me if this is too forward of me, but would you care for a dance?”

“A dance?” you faked a timid gasp, though the corners of your lips lifted as this was exactly the proximity you needed in order to steal the keys, “with you?”

“Yes,” he then leaned in closer to smugly whisper in your ear, “if you’re so sorry, then dance with me,” before floating back enough for his emerald eyes to capture yours.

Bending your knees slightly, you offered him a small curtsy and said, “it would be an honour, your grace.”

After he offered you his palm and you swiftly slid yours into it, he led you to the middle of the dancefloor. Snaking his grasp around your waist, he drew you in a little too close for what you were comfortable with, but exactly what you needed to get the job done.

“So, my lady,” he uttered as the pair of you began to sway to the music, “I don’t believe we’ve formally been acquainted.”

“Oh, I’m aware of who you are, your highness.”

“But I don’t know who you are,” he briefly twirled you an arm’s length away from him before whirling you back to him, “we haven’t met before. I’d surely remember a beauty such as you.”

“Lady Delphine of Cællimbe, your grace.”

“Ah,” his brows lifted with recognition, “so you must be one of Arthur’s daughters?”

“I am,” you lied.

“Forgive me, I’ve always had a hard time keeping track of all of his daughters,” a skill you knew even some members of that house in Cællimbe didn’t have, “but perhaps now’s the time I finally learn.”

As you let your eyes drift down to the keys dangling from his hip once more, you then uttered, “you know what I think you deserve,” you let your hand softly, yet suggestively, glide from his shoulder and down his frame, “after I so rudely spilt my drink on you?”

With a palm firm on your lower back, he dipped you down to the rhythm of the song. Staring back at you with bated breath, “what?” you knew he was hooked.

“A kiss,” you managed to whisper just before he crashed his lips against your own.

Running your palm further down his body, your fingers grazed the delicate loop the keys hung from just as he began to lift you up from the dip and press your frame closer against his. Letting your other hand wander, you tried to make your touch come off as just the same kind of attention he was giving you. You tried not to gag when his caress curved around your bottom and stole a swift squeeze. But just before he finally parted from the repulsive kiss, you snatched the small bundle away and hid it down your cleavage.

“Wow…” he breathed, eyes fluttering between each of yours, “that was–…” he speechlessly murmured as the song came to an end and everyone around you began to bow and curtsy to their partners, though the prince didn’t move an inch.

“Thank you for the dance, your highness,” you pulled away and offered him a small smile.

And as you turned to walk away, his voice found your ears once more as you weaved through the crowd, “will you grant me another one later? Perhaps in a more private quarters?”

Casting a glance back over your shoulder, you playfully answered, “how about you find me at midnight and get the answer then?” before you ducked out the open glass doors onto the broad balcony that stretched so wide it connected many of the chambers.

Rounding the corner, you wedged yourself into a little nook and momentarily let yourself melt against the stone wall, finally granting yourself a chance to shutter over what you’d just endured.

“Did you get it?” your eyes swiftly fluttered back open as Bucky’s low timbre washed over you, haven evidently kept a close eye and followed you out here.

“Of course, I got it,” you fished the keys out from between your boobs and handed them to him. As he slid them into his pocket, you swiftly leaned away from the wall to snatch up a drink from the tray balancing servant that hastily passed by. In an attempt at washing out the taste of the prince’s possessive kiss, you downed the sweet liquor as quickly as you could manage, “urgh,” you groaned, then noticed the amused expression plastered on Bucky’s features and grumbled before he could begin to tease you, “oh, shut up,” you watched him bite down on his grin, “let’s just go.”

Heading back inside, the two of you swiftly slipped down hallways and sneaked by a bunch of boozed-up guests, before your swift steps echoed softly on the staircases as you made your way deeper down into the gilded palace.

When you reached the basement, you quietly made your way down the long corridors. The torches hung sporadically along the walls were the only source of light, making the sudden passages that occasionally crossed the one you ventured down nearly come as a shock.

Suddenly, a pair of footsteps, not your own nor Bucky’s, found your ears.

And just as a shadow began to appear from around the corner, Bucky’s arm quickly wrapped around you as he dragged you into what he’d assumed was a chamber, but turned out to be a very tight broom closet.

The sound of the treads slowed as the door shut behind you. With Bucky’s burly body now firmly pressed up against yours, you scarcely breathed at all as you listened intently to the approaching footsteps. As torch light began to seep in from the crack beneath the door, your eyes found each other’s in the darkness.

Though as the handle began to twist, your partner reacted quickly and did the very last thing you thought he’d do in order to not blow your cover.

Grabbing a hold of your face, Bucky swiftly pulled you in and captured your lips just as the door swung open.

“Oi! You can’t be down here,” the guard bellowed and Bucky’s lips faded from yours just as swiftly as they had appeared, making the whole decoy feel like it had just been a dream.

Being quick to respond, Bucky glanced at the man and said, “sorry, just thought we could find somewhere private down here,” but your eyes were still too spellbound to tear away from his visage even as the ruse faded.

“Sir, just take it back upstairs,” he held the door and ushered you back out, “there are guest rooms a servant can point out for you if things get very dire,” before the guard then began to escort you back to a staircase leading up.

“Thank you,” Bucky said, his palm still scorching through the fabric of your dress on your waist as you conquered the lowest of the steps, leaning enough into the guard’s command for him to turn and go back to his post.

You stayed at the foot of the stairs a moment longer before the coast was clear once more.

Eventually, after you thought the palace couldn’t unfold any further, you finally came upon the chamber that you sought.

Around the corner from a short and curving stairway, there stood the entryway to where the massive vault lied. Before the solid door stood two guards, a layout you silently explained to your partner with a few hand motions.

With your spines pressed against the wall at the very bottom of the staircase, you wordlessly shared your plan before giving it a go.

Purposely stumbling down the last step, you glanced up at the guards and pretended to be incredibly intoxicated, “oh, hey,” you took a few wobbly steps towards them.

“Madam,” one of them perked up, “you’re not allowed to be down here.”

“Do you know where the bathroom is?” you slurred, “I think I might have taken a wrong turn,” before you reached out and leaned against the decorative vase standing tall at the edge of the chamber. As it began to wobble violently, one of the soldiers instinctively reacted and reached out to catch it before it smashed, “wow! I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” with their attention turned to you, you tried to twist their view away from the stairs where Bucky waited to sneak out from, “that last drink is just really getting to me, I think.”

Doubling over the vase, you pretended to heave. As one stepped even further away from his post to near you, the other one pipped up, “madam, you really should return to the party–, uh!” before Bucky appeared and his solid fist knocked him clean out.

Swiftly, you wrapped your limbs around the guard close to you, nearly climbing him like a monkey, as you slipped your arm around his throat and squeezed.

“Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep…” you murmured through your laboured breathes as the soldier slowly lost consciousness and tumbled to the floor, taking you down with him.

Offering you a hand, Bucky helped you back up onto your feet. As he conjured the keys, your eyes fell upon the dark hellstone that made up the sturdy vault door. The intricate lock in the centre of the arched entrance wasn’t difficult to spot in the slightest as its opulence was on par with the rest of the palace’s decor.

When the corresponding key twisted and the vault door swung open with a heavy creak, your arm swiftly shot out to hold Bucky back before his boot could cross the threshold.

“Stop!” you nudged for him to glance down and spot the tripwire he nearly triggered, “this place is probably rigged with tons of traps…”

Carefully, you stepped over the wire, each one of your slow footfalls came accompanied by an anxious breath. Like a shadow, Bucky meticulously placed his feet exactly where yours had been.

Between the hoard of glimmering gold and sparkling gems, dazzling armour and secretive scrolls, there below a shiny shield lied a small chest, already cracked open to reveal the treasure within.

“There!” Bucky pointed for you to spot it as well. Safely tucked away in the narrow box were five coarsely textured eggs, all the size of honeydew melons. Crouching down before it, Bucky then closed the lid and seized it safely under his arm. Turning to you, he flashed you a bright smile, “we did it.”

But his victorious grin didn’t last long as his boot then shifted and stepped on what turned out to not just be another tile on the cool floor, but a pressure plate that clicked down from just a fraction of his weight.

From a cluster of small holes on the opposite wall, a dozen poisoned darts soared out, but thankfully, Bucky’s reflexes were sharper than his perception, as he swiftly tackled you both to the floor.

Treasures clanged around you from the crash as you blinked up and saw the small bolts fly above your heads.

“Are you okay?” one of his palms found your cheek as he hovered above you, eyes frantically scanning your features, “did you get–”

“I’m fine,” you swiftly stated before the approaching of rushed footsteps suddenly found your ears. Evidently, the clatter had been enough to alert your presence, “Buck,” you panted as the alarm hadn’t yet seeped into his soul, “we gotta move.”

After you scrambled to your feet and exited the vault, the warden at your side cast a glance your way before you began to run.

“You smuggled that dagger in with you, right?”

“Yep,” you breathed, as you bent down and grasped the fabrics of your skirt, giving it a stubborn tug till it ripped a slit all the way up to the top of your thigh in order to grant you better mobility, but retroactively also revealing the hidden blade that was strapped to your leg, “let’s hope we won’t have to use it though.”

Running back the way you came, you managed to hide from the first wave of guards that came rushing down towards the vault, but when you rounded a corner and came upon three soldiers, everyone froze up for but a moment.

“Oh, no…” Bucky muttered before he raised his voice and tried, “uh, gentlemen, this isn’t what it looks like,” before he gave up and threw a punch at one of them.

Unsheathing your dagger, you tossed it into the thigh of one of the ones storming Bucky. With the chest still clutched under his arm, Bucky snatched up the weapon with a flourish and used it to his advantage.

The last in the trio rushed at you and swiftly wrestled you to the ground till you found yourself in a position you weren’t sure how you’d get out of. But then, your eyes flickered to the long leather bracelet ever glued around your wrist. Swiftly, you unfurled the improvised weapon and tangled it underneath the guard’s thick neck and tightened it so fiercely that the boulder of a man nearly turned blue in the face before he passed out.

As you pushed his heavy body off of you, you watched as the last of Bucky’s guys tumbled to the ground, both of them bleeding, though nothing fatal.

Getting to your feet, your gaze found your fellow warden's while you hastily wrapped the cord back around your wrist before your feet began to move once more.

Eventually, after you’d slipped out of the basement and raced higher up into the palace, you found yourself cornered with nowhere left to run. Every corridor you ran down had guards on the other end of it.

Ducking into a chamber that had a canopy bed so elegant that it nearly kissed the tall ceilings, you and Bucky worked together to push a polished wooden wardrobe against the door to block it off.

Your stare stayed glued to the only exit as your chest heaved with every breath, though Bucky’s didn’t linger as long, instead flickering to the windows right behind you.

“I’ve got an idea,” he uttered before unlatching the window and pushing it open.

Stepping closer, your gaze mimicked his and spotted the roofline below.

“Seriously?” you glared at him as heavy thumps began to echo at the barricaded door, “how far down is that?”

“Just don’t think about it,” he grabbed your hand and helped you up onto the windowsill, “it’s not like we got that many options,” his fingers laced with yours as he came to join you, “on three,” you stared down at the shingles below in horror, “one, two, three!”

And just as the cupboard scraped across the floor, the guards successfully barging the door down, the two of you jumped. Getting the wind thoroughly knocked out of you, the pair of you crashed onto the roof in a bruising tumble.

Thankfully, though your body throbbed from the fall, nothing seemed broken as you helped each other to your feet and began to sprint across the rooftops and jump over gaps between buildings towards the pending city walls.

And with one last leap, you reached the parapet. Helping him down the wall first, Bucky then promised to catch you as you hesitated the steep climb.

You felt like sitting ducks as you sprinted across the open fields surrounding the city. Lungs burning from how long you’d been running, you saw the main gate roll up and let out a hoard of soldiers, all on horseback.

The lights in a few of the watchtowers flickered as you passed them, and before you knew it, arrows began to fly, only narrowly missing your heads.

A plan then stuck your partner as he pushed the chest into your arms and urged you to keep running in the same direction while he curved off in a reckless attempt at leading the enemies away.

Though you knew it was too dangerous, he darted off before you could stop him, only glancing back to tell you to meet him behind the small cluster of pine trees that shot up further down the meadow.

Tears began to prick the corners of your eyes as you soon heaved to regain your breath and the pine needles pricked your spine. Whipping your head around, Bucky was nowhere within your sight, even as your breathing began to grow steady.

And just as paralysing thoughts of his demise settled within your mind, his silhouette suddenly appeared from around a tall shrub.

Unable to stop yourself, you ran into each other’s arms.

“That was so stupid,” you sniffled against his shoulder as you clung onto him like you never had before.

Seizing your face, he gently tilted it back enough for him to flash you a cocky smirk, “worked though,” as he wiped your cheeks dry.

Blinking up into his eyes, the moonlight nearly made them sparkle as fiercely as the palm-sized gemstones you’d spotted in the vault.

Then, just as victory washed over the both of you, the soft smile that warmed Bucky’s features faulted as a breathless gasp of pain tumbled out of him.

Still faintly vibrating from its journey, an arrow suddenly jutted out of his left shoulder.

#lea’s writing #eflorr au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes hurt/comfort #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff

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azen13 · 9 months ago

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CW: Yandere Themes

Lately Yandere!Jing Yuan has been in my mind a lot, and I've been thinking about him with a Vidyadhara!Reader. In my eyes in this scenario, he would be worse than if you were just a regular human. Considering how dangerous the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus have been recently on the Luofu, extorting the Vidyadhara population to help make their draughts and medicines, and Jing Yuan genuinely fears for your life.

It isn't ideal, Jing Yuan mourns. He is a patient man, and he would prefer to take his time ensnaring you in his embrace. This cage is breakable, it has gaps and weaknesses that you could exploit. But if you locked yourself in it willingly and threw away the key...suddenly it's inescapable.

Jing Yuan makes do with the time and materials he has at his disposal. He worms his way into your at a pace that's brisk, but not quick enough that it comes across as suspicious. What begin as coincidental meetings at markets and small talk turn to purposeful plans and shared secrets.

Then they begin to escalate. One day Jing Yuan brings up the idea of having a Cloud Knight or two watch you if you leave your home. After all, the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus are lurking throughout the Luofu, and he would hate for you to get hurt, or even worse...

You acquiesce beautifully, and Jing Yuan can breathe a sigh of relief, though his worries aren't entirely quelled.

No, the only way to complete banish those shadows lurking in his mind is to have you safely under his grasp. It's unfortunate, Jing Yuan thinks, that he has to go to such extreme measures; that he has keep you safely tucked away where those zealots following the Plague Author will never be able to even lay a finger on you. But it's for the best, he tells himself, as he kisses you beneath pale moonlight after a walk in Exalting Sanctum.

On the chessboard of life, Jing Yuan moves a pawn. It's a subtle move.

Checkmate in three.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagine #yandere drabble #yandere hsr #yandere jing yuan #yandere jing yuan x reader #aaaaaa i haven't been able to write in so long sobs #inspiration has been GONE #i do have another idea tho for a drabble that i might write tomorrow #ive just been so busy with school lslkdgsjldg #i might write a longer thing based on this idea???#idk

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syndrossi · 3 months ago

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Resonant Trick or Treat Fill #14: Ser Kelwyn's first impressions

The sight of a dragon flying overhead was rare. In all his years in the Saltpans, Kelwyn could recall half a dozen such flights, each of them humbling to behold. The first two had been the king and queen’s mounts, bronze and silver, some three decades ago. Another two had passed overhead years later, Prince Aemon and Prince Baelon, with the famed Vhagar casting a shadow wide enough to swallow entire houses. Prince Aemon’s mount, the much smaller Caraxes, had seemed a child in comparison.

All dragon sightings since had been the Blood Wyrm, his size growing with the years, though his rider had changed. With Prince Daemon wed to Lady Royce of Runestone, it was not so surprising that his path might occasionally cross over the Saltpans.

This time, however, the Blood Wyrm approached from the northwest, circling slowly. And sharp-eyed guardsmen atop the towers of the Castle Cox had reported signs of smoke—then a small group approaching on foot.

Lord Cox was a canny man who had done much to improve his family’s standing since his father had earned his title supporting King Jaehaerys against Maegor the Cruel. He had swiftly concluded that Prince Daemon must be on foot, perhaps wounded, with company—and the household had set a frenetic pace making preparations for his expected arrival.

And so Kelwyn had been summoned to meet the prince on the road, along with young Ser Stennic, to render any necessary aid. They rode at a brisk pace, Stennic’s neck craning upward every few seconds to take in the dragon flying overhead. Kelwyn did not blame him. They were closer to the dragon than most men would ever be in their lifetime.

As they drew closer to the group on foot, it became clear that Prince Daemon was in the company of children, and Kelwyn wracked his memory for whether the prince had any of his own. He did not think so, but with the way the sun glinted pale silver off the crown of one child’s head, he was beginning to doubt himself.

The other child was injured, he soon realized, the cloth of a splint light against his arm. Prince Daemon was clearly keeping his pace slow so as not to tax the child. Kelwyn glanced past them, to the smoke in the distance.

What happened? Who would dare attack a Targaryen child, much less with his father’s dragon nearby?

When he and Stennic were finally upon them, it was clear that something truly harrowing had transpired. Both children were pale and wary-eyed beneath streaks of soot, their clothing burned in places, though they appeared to have escaped any burns themselves. The dark-haired child’s expression tugged at his heart, one of determination worn thin by pain, the clench of his jaw better suited to a wounded soldier than an innocent child.

Prince Daemon, meanwhile, had the bearing of a man nearing some threshold. One arm held a cloth-wrapped bundle, while his free hand hovered near the hilt of his sword, as though he might draw upon any who drew too close. His hair, even braided, was dull and tangled, suggesting that he had been on the road—or air, Kelwyn supposed—for days on end, without stopping.

Whatever had happened, this would require a delicate touch.

“My prince,” Kelwyn said with a bow from atop his horse. “Lord Cox bids you welcome to the Saltpans, and eagerly extends the hospitality of his keep to you.”

Prince Daemon looked them over, some of that tension easing, though not wholly. “A traitor to the crown rode in this direction, by name of Marten Crayne,” he said tersely. “He kidnapped my sons and fled at my approach. If he has entered the town, I would have him arrested.” He looked toward the pale-haired child. “Can you describe the man?”

A kidnapping? Kelwyn quickly gathered his reeling wits at the revelation, though he was freshly caught off guard by the young prince’s comprehensive description, rattled off with a composure many grown knights would envy. And that after having been rescued from captivity!

Stennic hastened back to the town to carry word of the fleeing kidnapper and his ship. Kelwyn remained behind, unwilling to leave their three unexpected royal guests unguarded after so heinous a plot. Prince Daemon remained on edge, even as he detailed his needs. Kelwyn knew Lord Cox would already be preparing appropriate chambers, and the maester could be spurred into action as soon as they arrived.

They were still fifteen minutes away on foot, and Prince Daemon had turned down his offer to lend him his horse. His elder son, Jon, had suffered broken ribs during his captivity and could not ride.

So that is why he is not on dragonback. Kelwyn looked up at the red dragon overhead, flying vigilant circles around them. He shook his head then. What lowlife would strike a royal child hard enough to crack ribs?

His offer to take the other child, Raymar, was also refused. Raymar did not appear injured, but the mere suggestion had caused Prince Daemon to reach for the child instinctively. The tale emerged during the walk to town, of the week the young princes had spent as captives of this Marten Crayne, and Prince Daemon’s frantic search from the air.

Thank the gods they were not taken from the Saltpans. Whichever lord had been careless enough in his guard to allow the boys to be taken would surely find himself the target of the king’s displeasure.

The children spoke little after Raymar’s lengthy report, their exhaustion plain. Kelwyn hoped they had suffered no other indignities at the hands of their kidnapper. He would have expected tears and whimpers at the end of such an ordeal, not this eerie, stoic silence.

Kelwyn would have dismissed it as Targaryen strangeness, except that Prince Daemon seemed worried as well, filling the quiet with soothing words, promises of a warm meal and a hot bath, a soft bed. That his voice could be so gentle when his eyes held murder was a feat in itself.

When word arrived that the Dancing Myr had fled ahead of word arriving to detain them, Prince Daemon’s jaw clenched, as though he were swallowing a scream. Overhead, his dragon let out a threatening roar, audible even within the walls of the castle.

Kelwyn found himself in the role of chosen protector, tasked with finding three other worthy souls to stand vigil outside Lady Cox’s former bedchamber. He caught only glimpses of the young princes, the most startling one when the bundle Raymar had carried in his arms throughout the walk, which had been partly obscured by cloth, had been unwrapped to reveal a dragon egg, which Prince Daemon had helped him set beside the fire. And not just one—there was another that must have been what Prince Daemon had been holding in his other arm.

A royal kidnapping, a dragon rescue, and now Castle Cox plays host to three princes and two dragon eggs. It was as though he had stumbled into a minstrel’s song, and Kelwyn had the feeling that the intrigues would not stop there, which meant that his protection would have to extend beyond merely the physical. The attacks on incoming ravens took on a sinister new implication.

The children may not have been kidnapped from here, but we were almost certainly the kidnapper’s intended destination to spirit them away by ship.

Lord Cox’s page was kept busy all throughout the evening as Kelwyn coordinated the search for the fleeing ship, along with any sailors who might have remained behind, while keeping half an eye on the door to the room, which saw servants passing through frequently early on as their royal visitors were fed, then provided baths.

Kelwyn looked in at one point, after the bath water had been lugged away from the large tub, and immediately found himself fixed by a wild stare from Prince Daemon, who had moved a chair near the doorway to set up a watch of his own.

“Is there anything you require, my prince?” Kelwyn asked, keeping his voice low. Glancing past the prince, he could see the two children settled into one of the beds, the blankets pulled up over them. And his gaze could not help but be drawn to the oval shapes of the dragon eggs, dark in front of the fire.

“I shall keep watch from within,” Prince Daemon said, settling back in his chair. His hair was still wild and tangled. He must not have availed himself of the bath. And although he had washed his face, it only made clearer the lines of weariness, the shadows beneath his eyes.

His nerves balance upon the edge of a knife.

From what the prince had shared after supper, it was little wonder. Kelwyn could still scarcely believe that Lady Royce, renowned for her honor and justice, could have carried out such a bold treason. She had not even hidden her children far from where anyone would look—they had been passed off as her own nephews, orphans at the Gates of the Moon.

The king’s brother had lost his wife and learned that he was a father and that his sons had been kidnapped all in a single day. By the looks of it, he had hardly slept since. And after such tireless searching, to find that they had been mistreated so…

“We shall let no one through this door,” Kelwyn said, bowing his head.

The words barely seemed to reach Prince Daemon, only a slow nod confirming he had heard them at all, and Kelwyn drew the door to a gentle close.

#resonant trick or treat #resonant trick or treat fills

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catnipaddictt · 10 months ago

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Anakin being soft?

thank you for the request! this is super short (darn writers block) but hopefully it captures your vision <3

Five more minutes

anakin x gn!reader

synopsis: mornings with anakin

wc: 0.3k

tw: nothing, just fluff

The first signs of morning were shining through the curtains as you slowly woke up. An arm not belonging to you pulls you tighter as your boyfriend speaks behind you “not yet.” A warm face pushes itself closer to your neck and you feel a content sigh. This time of morning was your favourite; there was nothing better than waking up to this. Anakin was basically a human hot-water-battle, meaning you were never cold, which was helpful in the brisk morning. And today was no different. You could practically see the heat radiating off him, not that you were complaining.

Turning in his embrace you place your head against his chest, he moves to accommodate the new position. “You should probably get up” your grumble being muffled by his figure. “Probably” he replies softly, running his fingers through your hair, “but I would much rather prefer to stay here.” He pulls the covers up with his other arm, making sure you are comfortable. A light breeze flutters through the curtains, you must have forgotten to close one last night, and the early light bathes the two of you. Anakin effectively glows in the rays of sunlight, his curls falling around his face in a sort-of halo.

He readjusts his arms around you before dipping his head to rest it against your own. Anakin was always gentle with you despite what he did as a jedi knight. His calmer side seemed to come out around you, he was more comfortable in your presence than anywhere else. The peaceful moment was ruined by the beeping of an alarm set on Anakin's holo, signalling that it was time to get ready for work. You move to untangle yourself from him, but are met with resistance and large hands pulling you back, “no, not yet” he speaks with a hint of authority, “just five more minutes?” you don’t protest, instead melting back into his embrace “okay”.

if you guys have more request feel free to send them in and I will add them to my list!

#star wars #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin x you #the clone wars #revenge of the sith #soft!anakin

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yuesya · 5 months ago

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Ember glances up at the sound of brisk footsteps and a wooden clatter, auditory signals that are indicative of a new guest who has just pulled out a chair at the counter that he’s manning. The small shop is only one of many eateries on the Luofu, and while it’s far from one of the more popular spots, it has its share of loyal customers, too.

But the smiling woman with red-violet hair who’d just sat down in front of him is most definitely not one of the regulars that Ember is used to.

“… Can I take your order?” Ember asks.

“I think we both know that I’m not here to order food,” the woman responds, “Although I wouldn’t say no to a berrypheasant skewer, if you have any of those in stock.”

Berrypheasant skewers are one of the more popular street foods in Luofu. They’re one of Ember’s favorites, too, so he’ll begrudgingly admit that she at least has good taste.

It’s the only reason why he decides to give in to his own curiosity, and turns around to begin putting together the woman’s order… instead of immediately calling the authorities on this unwelcome customer who is also a Luofu fugitive. Ember might not be an actual Luofu citizen, but that does not mean he cannot play the role of one. Given how well he’s been blending in so far, he’d say that he was doing a pretty good job of things.

… Not that this was likely to last much longer than today, given the Stellaron Hunter smiling at him. Luofu authorities would definitely discover that Kafka had deliberately made a detour to this food stall while she was supposed to be escaping and hiding her tracks. Which meant that they’d probably be investigating the shop as well, and Ember wouldn’t bet his chances on staying unnoticed. And those of the Xianzhou could be… sensitive, when it came to Iron Cavalry Knights.

Well, he had been thinking about returning to Glamoth sometime soon, even if it meant cutting short his time in Luofu far earlier than he’d been planning to…

“Why are you here, Stellaron Hunter Kafka?” It’s known to the Iron Cavalry that the leader of the Stellaron Hunters, Elio, is capable of some manner of foresight. Ember doubts that the Stellaron Hunter is sitting in front of him for no reason.

“To ask a question,” the woman responds. “In exchange, I’ll offer a piece of information that should be of interest to you. Of course, if you deem it worthless, then I’ll simply walk away and leave. Does that sound like acceptable terms?”

Ember arches an eyebrow silently. The Iron Cavalry are widespread across the stars, and he doubts that the Stellaron Hunters would–

“‘The northern lights that vanished from the stars are slumbering in a dream within a dream.’”

Aurora?

Ember frowns. Aurora had been rather silent recently, but… was she really…?

Looks like he really did need to make a trip back to Penacony, then. And, a ‘dream within a dream’… if one was talking about dreams, then… “Penacony?”

Kafka smiles and does not respond. Instead, after a deliberate pause, “What is Glamoth’s stance on Stellarons?”

#writing #zenith of stars au #titania au #ember living incognito on the luofu #until kafka comes crashing in #this takes place right before the astral express arrives #in the canonical game storyline for hsr #:3

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tadc-harlequin-au · 7 months ago

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"The Skirmish General" boss fight concept! (+mini-bosses)

Concept art for the Skirmish General's boss fight, which takes place in a broken colosseum, fully booby trapped when Pomni enters.

You may think that for someone named "Skirmish General", you'd be going down with one of the most fearsome opponents in a lifetime, but no. Pomni's actually just facing off with a delirious war veteran with the biggest PTSD you've ever seen, and is actively falling apart as we speak.

The Skirmish General lays dormant in his "Pawn Fortress", which is exactly what you think it is: a circular barrier wall made out of various dead pawns.

He has dug himself a tunnel in the middle of the Pawn Fortress to hide in, where he remains in an inactive state until Pomni jumps into the hole and sees him for the first time, and he will attempt to chase Pomni until unearthed.

With six arms, he is able to climb up various pillars of the colosseum, to perform a ground-shaking smash, which Pomni has to use various barricades to protect herself from the shockwaves. After this attack, Pomni is given an opening to greatly weaken the General, since his form is not as great as it used to be.

It is also with this weakened state that mini-bosses are introduced; namely, The Skirmish General's most trusted and personalized defenders: The Impassable Rook (Boar skull), The Brisk Knight (Ram skull), and The Callous Bishop (Terror Bird skull).

They remain inactive until the General calls for one of them, and they follow the General's orders till the very end, as the General rests his old man bones.

#tadc #tadc au #harlequin au #tadc harlequin au #the amazing digital circus #kinger #tadc harlequin au the skirmish general #boss!kingr #boss fight #concept art #character design #sketch #digital art #artist on tumblr

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lostinwildflowers · 1 year ago

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Summary: A young, naïve princess and a scrappy kid off the streets find themselves at odds, only to form a close connection that could cost the princess's future.

Word Count: 27.5K(...I am so sorry)

Warnings: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers, Angst, Pining(and a lot of it), Violence, Fighting, Illness(Not Pregnancy), Graphic Description of Death, Blood and Gore, Harsh Language/Swearing, Royalty AU, Happy Ending

A/N: Guys. I have finally finished this fic after it sitting in my drafts for OVER A YEAR! I hope the wait was worth it, please enjoy. Also this isn't beta-ed so if there are any mistakes I apologize😭 -Birch<3

Some Inspirations(full credit to the artists!!!):

Knight Levi (1)

Knight Levi (2)

Knight Levi (3)

It was close to the break of a cool, brisk dawn, and an 18-year-old boy with raven hair was being escorted by the king’s guard. The men of the guard hurriedly ushered him toward the castle gates, hoping to keep the situation quiet.

The boy had just been scooped up from the streets of the small town outside the castle where he had fought against a robbery in the town’s bank. Two large men had been knocked unconscious and tied up outside the front door while he returned the coins to the banker, who was crying uncontrollably, thanking him.

The boy’s name?

Levi Ackerman. He was skimpy, short, and looked like the butt of a joke. Yet from the tallest hill to the deepest valley across the kingdom, he was known as one of the best crime fighters in the nation.

Levi was known for his cunning, stoic nature, as well as his ability to fight with an unnatural quickness on his feet. Never once had he had a run-in with the law, he would send for the guard as soon as he started fighting the criminals. The poor guards men and women would show up to take the criminals away, only getting a quick glance at the small boy saving their town.

That’s why when the royal guard came to find him after the banking skirmish, Levi didn’t resist. He knew he wasn’t in trouble.

As they rode back toward the castle and away from the small village, Levi listened to the guard’s oblivious chatter. They wanted to recruit him to be a part of the royal guard… at the king's request? The thought surprised him, but he didn’t let that show. He knew that if he agreed to be a part of the king’s military force, he would be well taken care of and still be able to serve justice to those who needed it.

The sound of steel horseshoes clicking against the grey and black tiled rocks in the road was barely audible in comparison to the bustle of the town just outside of the castle. Levi was mounted on the back of one of the king's horses, his silver eyes narrow and cautious as he watched everyone hustle around the entourage.

Before he knew it, he was walking away from the life he was accustomed to, and as soon as he made it through the palace gates, his life changed forever. You could say it was almost difficult to keep up, but Levi knew how to quickly adapt.

He's shown the barracks and his sleeping quarters, where he was lucky enough to get a small cot in the corner away from many of the other soldiers. He caught sight of some of the soldiers and their trainees, donning stripes on their armor to show off their rank.

Levi doesn’t quite know what to make of everyone, they are all so happy, so clueless to the outside world, it almost disgusts him. But, he keeps his mouth shut and listens as he gets his tour and settles into his new life.

Bright and early the next morning, he goes to train in the sparring lot with his group of roommates. Several of them had tried to talk to him and learn about his past, but he wasn’t interested in making friends.

He watched several pairs spar without weapons before it was his turn to go. The thing about Levi that surprised all of his opponents was his strength. Despite his smaller size, he could easily surpass and beat his fellow trainees in combat. Between his different styles of movement and his speed, he was untouchable.

Levi spent the first while at the castle doing what seemed like pointless activities to him. He knew how to unsheath a sword. He knew how to ride a horse. All of the basics were skills he inherently knew from his life on the streets fighting crime.

That's why no one was surprised when he advanced to the group of other guard trainees, who had been at the castle, learning the trade for over a year. It was strange at first, with everyone unsure of the quiet, small boy, but they eventually came to make small chat and he began to fit in.

Time seemed to slide by as fall weather started to set in. Leaves changed from dark, rich greens to playful yellows and tasteful oranges. It’s on one of these fall days, that Levi meets you for the first time.

You were elegant, graceful, and naive at only 17, out for a walk in one of your many private courtyards. You were out strolling by yourself, as you often did. There were guards littered throughout the palace, so you weren’t too concerned about danger.

You loft around one of your favorite courtyards, the Josephina Garden Hall, blinking through the falling leaves and sighing in happiness at the breeze that floats through, carrying the last of summer’s warmth. In your lackadaisical wandering, you catch sight of a dark-haired boy around the corner.

You stay quiet and you blink in surprise when you realize he is training in your private yard. He's young, you think to yourself as you shift to stand next to some browning thistle bushes. Butterflies erupt in your belly as you take in his shirtless and lean muscular back that is facing you.

Even with his boyish age, Levi is covered in thick, strong muscle, but due to his intense practice routine, he's covered in dirt and some bruises. You could even see the pale gleam of faded scars on his chest and back, and that's when you decided you needed to know who this recruit was.

What kind of guard trainee is this? He looks young, but he seems so experienced, he couldn't have come from one of the lords, you think to yourself as you shakily emerge from your hiding spot.

You roll your shoulders back and down, lifting your chin as you walk as poised as you can. An image of grace, or so you thought. You were youthful and inexperienced, having only just gotten out of a lecture about politics and debate. Your days were spent going to classes, electives, and other menial lessons.

This was your time of day to relax, but the air suddenly changed from inquisitive to tense. Just as you started to approach the dark-haired boy, who was swinging his swords in a practiced sequence, he caught sight of you.

He flips his sword over in his hand, and pivoting on one foot, his blade just grazes your chin to lift it and look deep into your wide (colored) eyes. The slight sting of the blade causes you to jump back, your hands racing to your face to see if he drew blood.

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you pull them back to see just a small droplet on the tip of your fingers, and your breathing is labored as you glare at the raven-haired boy.

Levi holds your stare as well as the stance with his blades and mutters, "Who are you and why are you watching me train?” It's silent for a moment as you process his words, the fading stinging on your chin slowing your brain down. Your mouth parts open, both in offense and shock.

He didn't know who you were.

You swallow thickly as you blink slowly once, trying to regain your composition as you reply, "It doesn't matter. You are training in a private courtyard meant for this kingdom's elite and personal guards."

His silver gaze bores into you for another minute before they roll in annoyance, his swords dropping away from you with an irritated sigh. He takes a small step backward, regaining your gaze without saying a word.

You watch him carefully, slightly nervous before dropping into a shallow curtsy. You look down and murmur, "Excuse me then." Levi takes a step to the side as you walk past him, skirts fluttering as you look straight ahead without a second thought.

Once you're out of earshot, Levi watches you leave and wander into the next garden, disappearing around the corner. Who the hell was that? He thinks to himself but brushes it off and continues with his training.

---

Later that same evening, the other recruits were laughing and chuckling after a hard day of training. Levi walked along behind them, listening to their conversations but never truly taking part in them.

Everyone was headed back to the barracks, slowly wandering through the outskirts of the castle while trying to not be too loud. He kept one hand on the hilt of his blade, his gaze trailing away from the crowd of trainees in a practiced and calculated manner.

Colt, Porco, and Zeke were leading the group, some of the advanced trainees Levi had come to know. They were cracking jokes and talking about what was for dinner, but Levi didn't care for their conversation. He found more interest in listening to Reiner and Bertholdt who were in front of him.

The two young boys were discussing the upcoming rotations for the guard trainees. Each rotation group was stationed somewhere different around the castle and courtyards, and they rotated every couple of weeks so the guards could defend anywhere they were needed.

Reiner was more worried about who he was going to be stationed to watch, which made Levi roll his eyes, his silver gaze locking onto motion around the upcoming corner.

A split second later, he sees your figure surrounded by a flock of maids on your every side. Then, just a few paces behind them were your two female guards, Pieck and Annie.

His eyes narrow as the pieces click together in his head. He's interrupted when the other male guards he was walking with recognize you. “Good evening, milady,” Colt chirps out, a wide smile on his face as the group comes to a halt.

You had been talking to one of your maids about some kind of fabric for your next dress but were interrupted by the sight of the guards in front of you. You give the men at the front a sweet smile as the group of trainees all drop to one knee in a respectful bow.

All except for one.

The dark-haired boy, you think as he locks eyes with you. You nod silently to the maids, who skirt around all of the men and head toward your quarters. You continue to smile gently as they leave, and you address the trainees with a quiet and pleasant, "At ease soldiers."

Zeke offers you a wide grin and says, “Good evening, princess! Lovely weather we've had today, perhaps we can get some musicians to play in the back courtyard for you after dinner tonight.”

While Zeke is talking, you don't break eye contact with Levi, who is still standing at the back, not kneeling like the rest. You see Reiner elbow Levi in the knee, motioning to kneel in respect, but Levi continues to stare at you.

As Zeke finishes speaking, you shift your gaze to him slowly and agree, "Wonderful idea, Zeke. Please alert some butlers and other maids to gather everyone, especially my family and the lords. Reiner, Porco, join him, please?"

Zeke humbly agrees, as do the others, and you give them a dismissive nod, saying, "Thank you, gentlemen. Make sure to get my favorite violinist!" As the three blondes rise and disappear around the corner you just came from, you are left with Colt and Bertholdt kneeling, and the dark-haired boy still standing.

Levi's eyes are calculating and firm, and you nod to Colt and Bertholdt, relieving them from their bows of respect, heading past you and to the barracks. Colt turns around when he realizes Levi isn't following him but freezes at the showdown playing out in front of him.

You square up with Levi, taking a few steps toward him before he says, “You’re a princess? Makes sense why I caught you so off guard. You were loud, obviously in my line of sight, and an easy target who can’t even protect herself.”

A gasp sounds out as Colt gapes at the harshness of Levi's words, but the dark-haired boy doesn't say anything. And neither do you. You simply stare at where Levi’s head had been moments before as the boy walks past you, brushing past the other trainees. He disappears down the hallway where Colt and Bertholdt had been heading, straight for the barracks.

Annie and Pieck are still standing behind you, and when you don't move for a second, Pieck rests her hand on your shoulder. "Princess Y/n? Are you alright?"

You don't say anything, but turn to face Annie instead, a snarl now etched onto your usually kind features. There is a fire burning in your (colored) eyes as you give her a cold look and state, "Teach me to fight."

---

The training session with Annie was just coming to an end, with your muscles sore and aching and your chest heaving to catch your long-gone breath. It was a long and brutal session, as Annie wasn't forgiving and it was warm as could be outside despite it being the middle of fall.

It didn't help that you were in your new fitted armor that Pieck helped you choose - it was heavy and there were many layers to keep you protected. There was a well-fitting breastplate that was engraved with your family’s name and emblem, cuffs for your forearms, and even protective plates for your calves, thighs, and biceps.

It was intricate and beautiful, with each piece perfectly tailored to your body. The one downside - it was heavy. With the rays of the autumnal sun beating down and carrying the extra weight you weren't used to, it was tough on your body.

Annie being a deadly threat didn't really help either, but at least her blade was only a wooden practice sword.

Her weapon came down fast and hard in a never-ending wave of attacks that were perfectly timed, accurate, and most of all, deadly.

With a fast nudge from her wooden blade, your sword easily flew to the ground, clattering against the hard-packed dirt. You were out of breath, with your hair all mussed up and grime smudged across your cheek from your hours of practice.

Silver eyes were watching from a distance in the trainee’s practice area, but you were too tired to notice anything. Instead, you were focused on Annie, who was holding her own sword up to your throat, much like Levi did two weeks ago.

"You've got a long way to go," is the only thing she says. You sigh deeply as she takes a step back and drops her sword, turning to walk away.

"I'm going to clean up, Pieck is here to watch you," Annie calls over her shoulder as she sheaths her practice blade back into her belt, and you give her a feint wave as you locate Pieck near the edge of the training field.

You watch as Annie’s blonde head disappears behind some shrubbery before slumping unceremoniously to the ground, a groan falling from your lips.

A few pants escape you as you close your eyes, a wave of exhaustion flooding over you. You try to calm the erratic beating of your heart and slow your breathing down as a light breeze begins to blow through. Leaves stir up on the ground, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

While your eyes are closed, everything somehow seems to get darker, and the breeze seems to stop just a moment later. Your (colored) eyes flutter open and up, leaving you face-to-face with the dark-haired boy.

You groan again and move to get up as Levi glimpses down at you and he states blankly, "You need practice." You shuffle to your feet shakily, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath before opening them and answering him with, “Yes. I know. Thank you, soldier.”

“It’s Levi,” he cuts you off firmly, "Levi Ackerman.”

You squint at him silently, leaning down to pick up your fallen sword without a word. A small puff of air leaves your mouth as your hand wraps around the hilt of the blade and you mutter, “Well, Levi Ackerman, I’m practicing, and you should be too.”

The dark-haired boy simply scoffs and says “I'm already better than you in all aspects of combat, you need the practice more than anything. I’m not even sure why you’re out here, shouldn’t you be learning how to sew or something?”

Your hand falters on the grip of your sword for a second before your gaze hardens and you snap, “As you said, I need to learn to protect myself, and I'm working toward that goal.”

You don't hesitate a moment after that, choosing to turn away from him and follow Annie to wherever she had disappeared. Levi is left standing behind you as you storm away, quiet as he takes in your retreating appearance.

Pieck had caught sight of your small spat with Levi, and as she followed you out of the practice field, she shot an icy glance toward the dark-haired recruit.

---

Your days were endlessly busy, and you were the most exhausted you had ever been in your entire life, with meetings with potential princes, lords, and suitors, going to your lessons to learn about foreign policy, hosting balls, developing legislature, and more.

On top of that, you were still determined to train with Annie and Pieck when you had a moment free. Annie focused on teaching you sword techniques and improving your reaction time, while Pieck focused on sequences and how to use them while in a fight.

You were slowly improving with every day you practiced. You were becoming leaner, and building more muscle. You were less quick to tire, you didn’t lose your breath as much, and you were getting to the point where you could occasionally match Annie’s blows.

Your mother and father weren’t so sure about you learning to fight, but your elder brothers had all learned, so they accepted that it was something you wanted to do. Your mother thought it was “unladylike”, but your father thought it was a good idea that you knew the basics of protecting yourself if you needed to.

"Slow!” Annie's yell comes at you as she spins and slashes her sword toward your ribcage, her aim constantly perfect. You manage to dodge her attack before you parry your blade against hers, using your body weight to push her back a step.

The two of you were sparring in one of the private courtyards this particular day, while Pieck stood guard not too far off.

The two of you circled each other before Pieck called out, “I think that's enough for today, you two, Annie, it's time for us to go on patrol. Colt and Porco will be on guard while we are gone.”

You were in an intense staring battle with Annie, who breaks her gaze away from yours to nod at Pieck. You groan and whine out, “But Pieck, I'm not tired yet, I can still practice for another hour!”

Quiet footsteps behind you make your head turn, and you suddenly see a blade coming down toward your face. A flash of fear runs through you, and you instantaneously react, bringing your sword up to catch the opposing blade.

You just barely catch it in time, and you realize your heart is pounding in your chest as the initial rush of adrenaline burns off. Shock is evident on your face as your lips part in a gasp and your eyes widen, but you soon frown when you are met with that new yet familiar silver gaze.

"Then let's fight for another hour," the low voice comes.

Annie and Pieck had both drawn their swords, just to find the dark-haired boy named Levi was the assailant. Dressed in his practice armor, the silver metal covering his body reflected the same color as his eyes.

One of his swords was drawn, the blade pushing down on your own, leaning toward your face. You could see the concentration in his brow, but you weren’t about to give up and lose. Stalemate it is then, you think to yourself as you brace against Levi.

At that moment, Colt and Porco walk into the yard, suited up in their new armor, their eyes wide when they catch sight of you and Levi. Pieck sighs and walks over to them, briefly giving them the rundown of events before she and Annie leave for their patrol.

Colt and Porco, each respectively, take a position on either side of the yard, giving you and Levi plenty of room to fight. When your eyes meet Levi’s again, you find him with what could be considered a smirk resting on his lips.

"Let's fight, princess.”

At that, he pushes his blade off of you in a sudden burst of energy, spinning away quickly to avoid any counterattack from you. This gives you time to draw your sword in an effective manner to combat his every blow.

Levi draws his second sword, now dual-wielding in the style that no one seemed to be able to replicate. You grit your teeth and go after him swinging, allowing the metal of your blade to clash against his, your footsteps shuffling in the fine gravel and dirt. Your hair was falling out of the already messy ponytail it had been in, the (colored) locks falling into your eyes.

You felt unkempt, wild, and stronger than you ever had before. And this time when you were fighting, you had the physical strength to show it.

While you were on the muscle and ready to attack at every movement, Levi was at ease, effortlessly matching your blows; twisting and flipping just out of range of your blade.

Eventually, Levi starts to get the upper hand, and without you realizing it, he gets you backed up and pinned to the wall. In an instant, one of his blades flicks yours to the ground before being pointed at your throat, while his other one comes up to point at your belly.

He's panting now though, with sweat running down his forehead and neck, disappearing behind the silver chainmail covering his chest. The sun just barely catches his left eye as he gazes at you, and it glows like a hot ore on a fire.

It's silent between you two, your blade is on the ground so there is no way to defend yourself, and your hands are by your sides. At that moment, you are out of breath, beaten, with nothing to say for yourself.

Levi pauses for a moment before dropping his swords and resheaths them, one on his back and the other at his hip. He takes a deep breath through his nose and gives you a small, shallow bow and a quiet mumble of, “Better.”

He takes a few swift steps back and jogs out of the yard, giving Colt a simple nod before disappearing toward the barracks. You're left standing there, dazed, as you watch his armor glitter and dance in the disappearing rays of sunlight.

You hardly notice it, but a faint flush has covered your face, and as you touch your cheek, you realize it's warm.

---

The sun had sunk below the horizon and the coolness of the full autumn nights was bone-chilling. While you had gotten cleaned after some flower arranging and training exercises that afternoon, there was a part of you that wanted to get messy.

So, you decided to go to the forges and clean your practice gear. The plates had been coated with mud and grass from the numerous times you hit the ground while sparring Annie, and there was no doubt dust caked onto the cloth from the dirt Levi kicked up when he surprised you.

It was late in the evening, several hours after dinner, and one of the times of the day that you were allowed to be alone for just a few minutes. Not wanting to make a scene, you chose to go to one of the smaller forge rooms, one that you knew not many people used.

You took a few moments, setting up a few candles on the workbench and lighting them, stoking the fire in the hearth to warm up the small workshop. There were several tables set up in the room, embroidered cloths carrying the royal insignia, others holding stacks of bent swords and dented plates of armor.

On your workbench, someone had left out a few delicate trinkets and other lightweight tools, and you find yourself smiling at the meaning behind them. A small forged flower? Perhaps for a lover back home, you wonder to yourself as you gently move it to the far side of the table.

You can’t help but sigh in happiness at the quiet sounds of the workshop; the crackle of the small fire burning in the hearth of the forge, the distant sounds of drunk men happy with their work for the day, and even the call of a spotted owl hooting in the distance.

The ability to be alone for a few minutes was much appreciated after the clashing of swords all afternoon, and you quietly start to work on polishing your armor as a warm, orange glow begins to fill the room. The faint smell of wood smoke fills the air, accompanied by the dark and rich aroma of the oil used to clean your armor and blade.

Time seems to tick by slowly, and you don’t even realize there is moonlight shining through the window until the sound of footsteps approaching catches your attention. Your (colored) orbs are snatched away from the rhythmic movement of polishing your thigh plate at the noise and you cease motion as you look to see who it is.

As you turn to face the entrance to the forge, you are met with the shadowed face of Levi, who when he notices you, his eyes widen ever-so-slightly and he bows in recognition and murmurs, “Princess”.

You can feel your eyes narrow in immediate suspicion at the sudden respect he is showing you. He quietly walks past you, moving to sit at the table closest to the forge, the two of you facing each other, yet tables apart.

You notice he is carrying his own gear, and you soften the intensity of your expression and answer him with a short, "Good evening, Levi,” before returning to your thigh plate with the small rag.

It’s quiet for another moment, but the simple silence that had once surrounded you has grown thick and uneasy. You could feel yourself shifting on the bench you were sitting on, realizing you were in a much more casual outfit than you typically wore. It wasn't nearly as extravagant as your day-to-day dresses, but you still felt comfortable enough to be seen by your guards and maids.

So with it being Levi sitting in the same forge as you, it made you uneasy. You watch him pull a stool out from the corner of your eye, the wooden legs scratching against the ashen ground near the forge’s mouth. What had been a harmonious sound from the forge becomes the sharp hiss of logs burning and the soft zings of metal being wiped clean and sharpened.

You feel the need to say something, anything, and so you mumble carefully, "You fought well today.” You dunk your rag in more oil, (colored) eyes cast down toward your hands. You can feel Levi’s heated gaze snap onto your frame, and the intensity of them is like daggers digging into your sides.

"I fight well every day,” he almost snarls. You feel your heart practically jump to your throat at the harshness of his tone, and you keep your eyes on cleaning a piece of mud off of a shoulder pauldron. Suddenly you feel foolish for saying something, and it's quiet for another moment before he pipes back up.

“But thank you," he murmurs, softer this time, "You are getting better, some of your combinations are pretty good.”

His words are simple, and straight to the point. They show no signs of being impressed or disappointed, it was like he was simply stating your fighting abilities like they were facts. Your cleaning motions completely stop as you process his words, and you can’t stop yourself from looking up to view his lithe figure.

Levi is working on cleaning his dual blades when your gaze lands on him, and he doesn't look up when your eyes find him. He doesn’t even seem bothered that he gave you what could be taken as a compliment, especially with how he has acted toward you.

But this is the first time you truly get to lay eyes on the scrappy boy, taking in his limber build. He's not large. Everything about him seems to be small, regardless of the obvious muscling on his frame.

You know he's strong despite his size, and he is lethally fast, which proves to be a deadly combination. The boy sitting across the room from you has something about him that sets him apart, and you just can’t put your finger on what it is.

As you go back to cleaning your armor, you try to piece together a possible backstory for him. You know he didn’t live in the town connected to the castle, no one here knew him. He was around your age, and he knew how to fight, but he wasn’t from a royal or respected family.

You look up from your gear, setting everything off to the side and you state out of nowhere, “Levi, I want you to train me.”

It's quiet again, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you wait anxiously. You then hear his blades hit the wooden table in a sudden clatter, drawing your gaze to the intricately designed swords.

No one else had swords like him. Custom designed, but embellished with the royal insignia, they were specifically made for his fighting style. You had wondered about them, and why your parents would allow for a random boy to have custom swords if he were just to be joining the guard.

You pause for a moment, thinking about how you made a major mistake asking this of him, and you look up to meet his gaze. And now, he's looking at you.

The expression on his face is one you don't know how to digest. He always seemed to look mad, bored, or sad when you watched him from a distance, but now you had no idea how to get a read on him. If you were to say what he looked like, you thought that he looked excited.

Levi stands up from his stool, the wood once again scraping against the ash-covered floor. His boots crunched on the thin layer of ash, but he didn’t seem to mind as he secured his blades on the table.

He moves with a grace you never noticed and he walks around the edge of your table to lean his hands on it directly across from you.

“No,” he says, his gaze still unreadable. You blink up at him, your fingers nervously weaving together in and out before you plead, “Teach me, there is no way I can get better if I don’t learn.”

You can feel his disbelief when he tuts and pushes off the table to stand up straight, looking down at you. His arms move to cross his chest and he responds again, “No, I’m not going to teach you.”

A wave of frustration washes over you and you stand up and frown before spitting out, “You have to!” Levi rolls his eyes and sighs, “I don’t have to do anything.”

You walk around the edge of the table to get closer to him and you point your finger at his chest and bark out, “You have to listen to me, I am your superior!” Levi smacks your finger away with his hand and is quiet for a moment.

His gaze shifts, and suddenly you can read his expression again. A challenge. His eyes become steely in the light of the forge, and you can see them flicker between your eyes, down your frame to your boots, and back up again.

You suddenly feel too warm standing there, and you uncomfortably shift side to side as you feel him silently judge you. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Here I am in clothes not suitable outside of my quarters, this guy is judging me after beating me today, and I’m begging him to train me. Get it together! The words flood into your mind as you stand there, and you cross your arms over your chest to try to cover up in insecurity.

“What’s in it for me?” he asks coolly, his gaze boring into yours as he awaits a response. You blink in disbelief and stutter, “Uh, uhm, I don’t know. What do you want?”

Levi rolls his eyes and walks back over to his gear, sliding the swords back into their sheaths. He folds up his armor and puts it back into a leather bag that he brought it in. He seemed dismissive and you were racking your brain before an idea caught in your brain.

“Land!” you call out loudly, before covering your mouth. Levi freezes and turns to look at you with one of his brows lifted in question. You take a quick breath and continue, “Land, for your family, here around the castle. That way you can see them whenever you want.”

Levi continues to put his stuff away and replies blankly, “My family is dead. I am alone.” A pit builds in your stomach and you usher out, “I’m sorry, I had no idea.” Levi glances at you and shrugs, “I’ve worked alone since I was a child.”

You are quiet again and let him walk past you toward the mouth of the forge. Just as he’s about to leave you mutter, “Please, Levi. I want to learn.”

He pauses behind you at the door, your backs facing each other. It’s quiet, with just the sound of the fire splitting open another log. You can hear the fluttering of the owl’s wings outside the window, and you turn to face the door, afraid he left.

Instead, you are met with Levi’s gaze watching your dejected figure. You can see he is calculating in his head, thinking, planning, and ready to say something that will destroy your hopes.

“You have no idea what you’re signing up for, princess,” is what falls from his mouth. It’s quiet, so quiet you almost miss it. A flicker of hope blooms in your belly and excitement takes over as you realize the implications of his words.

You take a step toward him, your hands clenching by your sides as you whisper, “Try me.”

Something flashes across his face, another unreadable emotion. He stares into your eyes and replies, “9 o’clock tomorrow night outside the Josephina Garden Hall. Don’t be late.”

Not a moment later, and he’s gone.

---

It’s just starting to get late, with the moon climbing higher and higher into the sky. You are nervously making your way to the Josephina Garden Hall on the south side of the castle, opposite the barracks.

You could hardly focus in your classes all day after the interaction with Levi in the forge room the night before. He was going to train you!

The training at night part made you a little nervous though, as you had really only practiced during the day and under heavy supervision. It was a windy night too, so you wore an extra layer underneath your practice gear so that you would stay warm.

A chill runs up your spine as you hurriedly make it inside the grandeur gates of the Josephina Garden Hall, and you take a deep breath as you start scoping the area for Levi.

You had informed Pieck and Annie of your new training program with Levi, and both of them were hesitant but supportive. They were both standing at the opposite sides of the gates when you entered, and you quickly waved at them in recognition.

Just as they start to wave back at you, there is a sharp and quick blow to your back that knocks you to the ground. Air rushes out of your lungs and your forehead knocks into the grey, rocky tile with a loud crack!

Ow, ow, ow! The pain sets in quickly, and you can tell you’ve cut your forehead, you’ve likely got gravel or dirt in your palms, and there is going to be a bruise in the middle of your back in the morning.

“Lesson 1 - always keep your defenses up,” the low voice comes from above you. You are trying to decipher the words when panic begins to set in. You couldn’t catch your breath.

You don’t think you’ve ever experienced so much breathlessness, and you roll over onto your back, gasping for air. In doing so, the voice, which belonged to Levi, rings out again, “Lesson 2 - don’t give yourself an opening for the enemy to disarm you.”

In a quick motion, his boot flicks your practice sword right out of its sheath on your hip. The wooden blade flips perfectly into his hand, and in an instant, the blade is pointing at your throat.

Blinking rapidly while trying to regain your breath, you take in Levi’s appearance. He was wearing a dark cloak, and his face was shadowed in the light of the moon. He looked… eerie. And for the first time since you had met Levi, you felt scared of him.

“As I said, princess, you’ve got no idea what you’re in for”, he spits out, dropping your sword next to your head. You shuffle into a sitting position, chest still heaving. Your mind was an absolute whirlwind due to the lack of oxygen and the speed and accuracy with which he evaluated your fighting knowledge.

You frown and grab your wooden practice blade, putting it back into your sheath before scrambling to your feet to face him. You pant for a moment and then say, “Then teach me how to be better.”

Levi turns to face you, the moonlight casting him in a silver glow. He cocks his head to the side slightly before he replies, “Your reaction time is slow, you move loudly, and you are uncoordinated.”

You stand still for a moment, taking in his words. You shrug and ask, “So how do I fix all that?” Levi squares up with you and says, “Well with someone of your skill level, you can’t work on it all at once. You need to learn the pieces individually and then start putting them together.”

He motions to a tree where you can just make out the figure of a spotted owl, the one you had seen the night before! Levi starts, “An owl doesn’t start out as a silent flier. It first must learn how to flap its wings to get in the air before it worries about how quiet it is.”

You nod in understanding as the owl turns its head, flaps its wings a few times, and then glides off into the woods outside of the courtyard. A small shift on your heel and you face Levi again and call out, “Let’s go again!”

---

That first training session was the start of a brutal and grueling process to get you in fighting shape. Levi was a good teacher, surprisingly, but he was relentless. For every time you messed up, you had to get it right three times in a row.

The weeks started to slide by, and you were getting stronger, faster, and more deadly. Winter has arrived in its full glory - frigid winds, iced-over paths, and inches of snow every morning. The pines in the forest had started to get weighed down by all the icicles hanging on, and the horses were blanketed every night to keep them warm.

It was hard, practicing in the cold. The dry, cold air made it hard to breathe when you were working to the point of exhaustion, and when the sun shone down just right, you were positive you were going to go blind.

That didn’t deter Levi, though. You had managed to get better with a blade, but Levi insisted you needed to learn how to fight hand-to-hand since you “were so good at losing your sword”.

So that led you to your current predicament - being across from Levi trying to dodge his punches. They were fast, one after the next, after the next. Perfectly timed with an accuracy you didn’t know someone could obtain.

You jump out of the way as fast as you can, but a blow to the rib catches you off-guard and has you keeled over, your breath puffing in the frigid air. The pain is sharp, but you’ve started to learn how to manage it better, so you stand back up and form your fists into balls.

You attempt to throw a weak punch toward Levi’s abdomen, but he catches your hand with ease. He’s strong enough that he pulls your hand up to eye level, looking at the form of your fist.

“Okay, first off, this isn’t how you should make a fist when throwing a punch,” Levi says to you, pointing to the way you had your right thumb in the middle of your fist. He pulls your hand apart and makes it flat before reforming it into a fist, wrapping your thumb around the outside of your middle and pointer fingers.

You feel a wave of heat wash over your face as you realize he’s close to you, touching your hand. You try to pay attention to what he’s telling you, but it’s like you are just now realizing the ashen color of his eyes is flecked with the faintest hint of light blue.

“If you had actually hit me with the fist you had, you would have broken your thumb in an instant,” he explains, dropping your hand and showing you the fist you had made but with his hand instead. You don’t expect to almost miss the warmth of his touch when he moves away, but you shake the thought away as soon as it comes.

You step off to the side, letting out a small breath that billows around your head before throwing a punch in the air with your fist in the correct position. You turn to gauge Levi’s opinion of your punch, and you see what resembles a small, half-smile on his face.

Levi sighs and shakes his head, “Not quite. You’re twisting your arm as you deliver the punch. You want your arm and shoulder to follow directly behind wherever your fist is landing. If you are moving to break someone’s nose, you want it all to be in a straight line.”

He demonstrates a quick punch in front of you, and you can see the line he’s talking about from his fist, through his arm to his shoulder. You take a deep breath, trying to focus as you once again square up with Levi. You hone in on his nose, and in a flash, your fist flies out in front of you.

It surprises both of you when your fist makes contact with his jaw, and there is a clack as Levi’s teeth clamp down together in pain. Your (colored) eyes are wide as Levi takes a step back, one of his hands coming up to cup his cheek.

Your fist is still hanging in the air from where you just punched him in the face and panic sets in as you realize you just punched him. “Oh-oh my gosh, Levi, I’m so sorry!” the words come rushing out of your mouth, and you take a step forward with your hands covering your face.

There is a slight grimace on Levi’s as he works his jaw up and down to dissipate any pain. He lets out a quiet snort and utters, “That’s more like it, even if your aim was a little off.”

Worry is etched across your features as you take in the growing red mark on Levi’s cheek. “Levi, I am so sorry, please let me take care of that,” you plead as you move around the side of him to get a better look at it in the light. Levi just brushes you off, waving his hand dismissively, “It’s alright, I’ve had much worse.”

You sigh and mumble, “I believe that but that doesn’t mean you need to suffer now. Please, Levi, let me at least get some ice for you so it doesn’t bruise as badly.”

He glances at you from the corner of his eye as he unwraps his hands, quiet and calculating. A moment passes but then he gives you a small nod, leaning down to pick up the extra wraps he brought, and motions for you to lead the way.

It’s a quiet walk back to the barracks, with only the snow crunching underfoot. You keep an eye on your surroundings, noting the guards just coming back from patrol in the forest, and the next rotation of trainees leaving to watch the castle walls.

Before you know it, the two of you are sliding into the small medicine room at the entrance to the barracks, and you grab a soft cloth and a stool. You have Levi sit on the stool while you run back outside, scooping up some of the fresher, cleaner-looking snow from outside the building.

Ducking back inside, you press the snow down into a ball inside the cloth, wrapping it until it is softly padded. You give Levi a small smile as you offer the rag to him, and he quietly grunts in thanks, bringing the cooled wrap up to his face and laying it on his cheek.

You rock back and forth on your heels a few times before asking, “So, uh, what are we going to practice next?” Levi looks up at you through his dark lashes, his eyes half-lidded in exhaustion. He’s quiet, which is something you’ve come to notice about him.

Levi never seems to have a lot to say, and only really talks when spoken to. Your thoughts are interrupted when he mutters, “You still need to work on your hand-to-hand combat skills, your aim is off.”

He shuffles the ice on his face a little bit, a soft hiss sliding through his gritted teeth. Your brows furrow and you reach out, moving to pull the ice from his face to see what his cheek looks like.

While you’re busy looking at the slight purple and pink marks blooming on his cheek, Levi is looking at you. He hasn’t spent much time with you in such close proximity, as he typically kept you at arm’s length.

But up close… you were pretty. He should expect that- you are a princess after all. But there’s a certain natural aura that he never noticed before, a sort of kindness written into your features. Maybe it was the way your (colored) orbs flickered from one dark spot on his jaw back to his eyes to see if he was okay.

Maybe it was the gentleness in your touch as you pulled his hand down from his face so you could look at it. It could have been the tenderness and honest sorrow in your voice when you apologized for hurting him.

Your hair, whilst messy from fighting, somehow suited you despite its frazzled appearance. The curve of your mouth when your lips were parted while thinking matched the ferocity you had when mad and the joy in your heart when you laughed.

Levi felt a wave of emotion run through him while you muttered to yourself how you needed to get better and train harder. It was intense, a feeling that shook him right to his core.

Was it… longing?

“When I was living on the street, alone,” he whispered, his voice so low and quiet you thought you were hearing things. You dialed in on Levi and the way his eyes were slightly glazed over as if he was in another world.

He pauses for a moment, swallows thickly, and then continues, “When I lived on the streets, there was this little girl I helped out. She was probably 7, maybe 8 years old. Didn’t have any family, no place to live. But I helped her.”

You are quiet as you listen to him, not wanting to upset him, you nod along. He glances up at you and starts again, “I would get her food, clean water, maybe even a place to sleep at night. In turn, she would find me medicine and bandages.”

Levi looks back down at the ground and his eyes flutter close as he mutters, “I was a sick kid, but she helped me when I needed her. I wonder where she ended up some days, and if she’s still as kind as she was to me.”

You shift your weight slowly, crossing your arms over your chest, and mumble back, “I can imagine she’s helping people, a good heart is a good heart. No amount of wounds and scarring will stop someone’s true nature.”

Suddenly, as if a flip switches in his mind, Levi’s eyes snap open and a hardened look covers his face. He stands up, slamming the snow-filled cloth down on the table and he practically snarls, “You would have no idea, all you’re used to is a protected life within these walls. You’ve never experienced what it’s like to live every day not knowing whether or not you’re going hungry.”

He lunges towards the door, pauses for a second, and spits over his shoulder, “Not everyone is as privileged as you, princess.” The words are as cold as ice, and you feel like your head has just been plunged into a bucket of water.

Hurt washes over you as you watch him disappear deep into the barracks, and you slam the door shut as you collapse onto the stool where he was just sitting. A sob tears itself from your throat before you can stop it, and you wonder why you’re crying.

Is it because his words are true? Is it because he was vulnerable with you? Or was it because you were starting to consider him a friend, and he only saw you as a pawn in the overall game of royal hierarchy?

---

A few days have tensely come and gone, and you and Levi haven’t spoken to each other since his outburst. You had buried yourself deep into studying, you figured that way you could stay out of his way and better yourself while doing so.

You hadn’t bothered practicing while being nose-deep in your books, and Annie and Pieck had started to notice. They had seen the dejected look on your face when you made it back to your room that night and how you shut the door without another word, locking them out.

They didn’t bother asking what was wrong when they saw Levi practicing with the other trainees and not with you. So, instead, they guided you to and from lectures, meetings, and other royal duties without hesitation.

There was one day where the sun seemed to break through the sky a little clearer and Pieck decided you needed to get some fresh air. She was waiting outside of your room, knocking gently before she called, “Princess Y/n, come out! You need some fresh air and out of those books.”

You groan at the distant call of Pieck’s voice, but deep down you knew she was right. You set a small bookmark between the pages of the current novel you were reading and begrudgingly call back, “Give me a moment to change into something more suitable for outside!”

Pieck smiles as she hears you fumble around for a few minutes before she hears your door click unlocked and you appear beside her. Dressed in clothes more appropriate for the winter weather outside, there is a disgruntled look on your face that says you aren’t happy with her interrupting you.

She rolls her eyes and says, “Come on, you know this will do you some good. Annie is already down at the stables getting our horses ready. It’s a nice day out and we thought you might like to go for a ride.”

The strained look on your face shifts to one of easeful thanks as you and Pieck make your way down to the stables. From a distance, you could see Annie’s blonde hair peeking out from underneath her cape, and beside her were three of your favorite horses.

The first was Ramon, a deep cherry bay with a small white star on his forehead. He was an absolute sweetheart and enjoyed going out on the trails. The second was your favorite mare, named Vairon, who was a small white and black spotted Leopard Appaloosa. She was a little on the fiery side, but you really enjoyed her company.

The third was an old, kind stallion named Enfés. He was a dark, seal bay that could almost look black in the middle of winter. While his name literally meant “hell”, the blaze of white hairs on his face showed his older age and the kindness in his eye.

You give each of the horses a quick rub between their eyes before you look to your two guards and ask, “Who wants who?” Annie was already holding Enfés since she tacked him up last and she replies, “I can ride Enfés since I already have him.”

You nod and look to Pieck and she shrugs with a smile saying, “Pick whoever you want!” You smile back with a giggle and mumble, “Alright, I’ll ride Vairon, I haven’t ridden her in a while.” You move to grab the mare, carefully guiding her out of the tacking area and out into the snowy, grass field just outside.

The three of you mount your horses and set off towards the woods. There were hundreds of miles of trails around the castle that you enjoyed riding through. In the summer, you could gallop your horses down the paths and out onto the open moors without hesitation.

But now, in the middle of winter, you were limited in how fast you could travel. While it was a warmer day and the snow was melting, you still had to be cautious of the slick ice underneath the snow that could make your horse slip.

You take a deep breath through your nose, the cool air burning your airways with a slight sting that is refreshing. You let the air slide back out through your lips, the warmth from your breath instantaneously freezing. It momentarily blocks your vision, and when it clears, your stomach drops at the sight in front of you.

Bandits.

There were several hooded figures, too many for you to get an accurate count in the split second you realized they were in front of you. Pieck and Annie had caught sight of them too, motioning to quickly move to the side of the path. There were only three of you, and at least a dozen invaders.

You can feel a wave of nervousness wash over you as you try to draw your sword from your sheath. You glance back and forth between the figures closing in on you and the hilt of your sword, which was caught on your cloak.

Crap, crap, crap! Is all that is racing through your mind as you struggle to get a hold of your only weapon. A cry rips through the air as Annie moves to fend off the first round of attackers. In a desperate motion, you let go of your reins to grip the hilt of your sword with both hands.

With another strong tug, your sword comes loose, and just in time for an arrow to whiz through the air near you. Another pang of fear runs through you, and in a panic, you jump off of Vairon, the mare instantly turning and bolting as the sounds of battle rapidly approach.

You try to steady yourself and in your mind, thinking through your training with both Levi and Annie. Just as you get a grip on your surroundings, a dark figure appears in the corner of your vision with a blade directed at your head. You duck on instinct, sticking your foot out in a way you had seen Levi trip someone many times.

The bandit trips over your extended leg, falling to their knees as you advance behind them, kicking them in the back with your other leg. This seems to knock the air out of them, leaving the bandit out of commission for a moment while you glance to see how Annie and Pieck are doing.

“Pieck?” you call nervously when you don’t see her black locks of hair anywhere. “Pieck?!” you yell more loudly when you don’t get a response. In your moment of distraction, you don’t notice another bandit sneaking up on you, and your attention draws back to the invader you had already knocked to the ground.

Just as you move to attempt to knock the invader out, the second bandit attacks. You’re too slow when you finally realize they are there, and shock rips through your nervous system as a searing hot pain takes over your left arm. You cry out, your voice shredding at the coarseness of your yell, and it’s loud enough to catch Annie’s attention.

“Princess Y/n!” she shouts towards you, parrying blow after blow with three attackers on her at once. You don’t get a chance to respond when you hear a voice exclaim, “A princess? She’ll be worth a lot if we can capture her!”

“It’s a shame that won’t be happening today,” a low voice barks from someplace behind you. The second invader launches at you, holding the blade that had cut you up to your throat. A gasp of pain leaves your lips and the guy who had a hold of you grabs you by the shoulder and yells, “Quiet, princess! Or I will have your head.”

He turns to face the unidentified voice you had heard, and you shuffle along to avoid any more injury. You hear the voice again, and through your pain and blurry vision, you can start making out a figure.

This time you know who the baritone belongs to as it rings out, “I can’t allow that either.” Before you can comprehend it, Levi is off his horse and lunges toward the bandit. You see a slight flick of his sword, and then you feel the pressure of the blade on your neck disappear.

With a shaky glimpse toward the ground, you can see the bandit’s severed hand still holding the sword. A scream splits the air behind you as the harsh pain sets in for the bandit, who steps away from you and tries to run. Levi is faster though, and he spins around, slashing his dual blades again.

You close your eyes as you hear the bandit’s body hit the cold, hard dirt beneath him. Another wave of agony washes over you as you feel warmth start to seep down your arm, and a choked sob breaks through your lips.

Not a moment later, you can feel a hand placed on your non-injured arm, and through tears you didn’t know had, you can make out the shape of Levi’s face. You can see concern on his features as he asks, “Are you alright?”

You are shaking, your whole body quivering as you try to contain your emotions through the pain. You try to nod your head but another cry leaves you with a fresh set of tears streaming down your face.

“H- how did you find us?” you manage to stutter out as Levi drops his hand from your shoulder. He re-draws his secondary blade and replies, “I saw your horse, and then Pieck appeared a minute later and brought our patrol.”

Another screech rings through the air and he sharply looks away from you and calls out, “Wait here, get down and hide somewhere!” Then, he’s gone, heading to where the cry came from. You could see several of the bandits were fleeing, leaving their horses and weapons as they ran for their lives.

Levi and the rest of his patrol were finishing off the few that remained, with Annie and Pieck joining them. You were about to collapse to the ground when you caught sight of something glinting through the trees. After a moment of realization, you recognize it as the royal insignia on a soldier’s breastplate.

You stumble forward as you call out to the fallen soldier, “Hey! Are you okay?” You don’t get a response as you trip through the brush, eyes blurry with tears from the pain coursing through your body.

In an instant, your body seems to come alive as you recognize the soldier. Rico Barht, one of your father’s guards. Rico was gushing blood from his thigh, where a nasty arrowhead had dug itself into the flesh. His upper body was drenched in blood from slash wounds on his chest and arms, oozing onto the soil beneath the two of you.

“Oh my gosh, Rico!” you blurt out in recognition as you lunge forward, your hands coming up to cup his face. He was just barely breathing and his hazel-colored eyes were half-lidded, unfocused.

A sob escapes you and you exclaim again, “Rico, hold on,” you look around for a second and then yell, “I need help over here!” You turn to face Rico again, slightly shaking him as you try to get him to focus on you, “Rico, Rico, hey, it’s me, (Y/n). We’re going to get you all fixed up, okay?”

A weak garble comes from his lips and that’s when you see it - a clean slice through across his throat. You immediately move to put pressure on it, but your hands keep slipping from the blood that is rushing out of his jugular.

“No. No, Rico come on, no no no no,” you rush out as you see his eyes fix and dilate. The blood continues to flow from his neck, and then you feel him take a breath. Then, all is still.

You can hear the fading cries of the bandits, and the forest rustling before it’s silent again. Sobs wrack your body, ripping your throat apart from the inside out. You let the tears fall as you clutch tightly onto the fallen soldier, praying that his soul leaves this cruel and unkind world behind.

You are so distraught you don’t hear your name being called from where Levi had left you. “Princess Y/n?” the call comes, and then again, this time with more intensity, “Y/n?! Y/n, where are you?!” You can hear the panic growing in the voice, but there is no air left in your lungs to reply as another whimper leaves your lips.

The person calling for you hears your cry, rushing down the dirt path that you had taken to find Rico. “Y/n, there you a-”, the voice starts but then abruptly stops. You turn to face the oncomer, who through your fuzzy vision determines is Levi.

He turns back towards the group and orders, “I need medical supplies over here, now!” Levi places his hand on your shoulder, trying to pull you out of the way so he can help, but you don’t budge, “He’s already gone.”

You can’t say anymore, and you bring your hands up to try to wipe the tears away from your eyes. Instead, you end up smearing Rico’s blood all over your cheeks. You don’t seem to notice, but Levi does.

His silver gaze widens as he sees the blood coating your hands and he rushes, “You’re injured, we need to get you medical equipment now.” He turns over his shoulder and shouts again, “Where the hell is that med kit?!” When his eyes meet yours, you simply shake your head.

“It’s not mine,” you whisper, sniffling, “I tried to- I tried to save Rico. But I couldn’t…” your voice trails off as a fresh wave of tears washes over you. Levi doesn’t say anything for a moment, a look of sorrow and realization covering his bloodied features.

You hadn’t ever seen someone die before.

It wasn’t something Levi thought of often. Living on the streets, defending innocent lives, death was so common he didn’t think twice about it. But you? A princess who barely could fight, holding a soldier as he died? He couldn’t imagine what it was like.

The two of you are interrupted as Pieck appears behind Levi and states, “We don’t have any more med kits, the soldiers in critical condition have already been sent back to the palace.” Her gaze flits from Levi to you, to the body of Rico behind you.

She opens her mouth to call for help, but she catches the glint in Levi’s eyes, and she understands. Pieck swallows thickly and then says, “I’ll get some of the other guards to take care of this. You two should get back in case any of the bandits are lurking around.”

Levi nods in thanks before turning toward you and murmuring, “Let’s get you back to the castle.” You don’t say anything, finally quiet after exhausting yourself of tears. Levi offers his hand to you, the digits covered in blood and grime.

You don’t think twice, placing your own hand delicately in his, gripping on tight as you feel Rico’s blood press into Levi’s palm. He pulls you to your feet, steadying you before guiding you out of the brush and to where Annie had gathered your horses.

She was in good condition compared to you, only mildly dirty, and didn’t look injured. Her blue gaze meets Levi’s silver one, and they both give each other a nod of understanding. Without any words, Levi mounts his horse while Annie helps you onto Vairon, the mare slightly antsy from all the commotion.

Annie passes your reins to Levi, who says to you, “Just hold on, alright?” You sit deeper into your saddle, grabbing onto the horn before nodding to him.

The two of you set off for the castle, a harsh silence settling over the ride home. You couldn’t help replaying Rico’s death over and over again in your mind. The feeling of the blood spurting from his neck. The look in his eyes as he died. The way his chest stopped rising and falling and laid eternally still.

You don’t even realize that you’ve made it back to the palace until you see Levi standing next to your left stirrup, offering you a hand to get down. Time and space seem altered as you make your way from the stables back to your room, trying to avoid any and all eyes on you.

You were a sight to see: face and hands covered in blood, your jacket ripped and your arm bleeding, dirt covering your clothes, and a distant look in your eye.

Levi stops you just outside of your door, his gaze trying to peer into your own troubled (colored) one. For the first time, Levi can’t tell what you’re thinking, and in a way… it almost scares him.

“Y/n- ”, he starts but is stopped when you cut him off and robotically state, “Thank you,” and then disappear into your room without another word. The door clicks shut with a small gust of wind, leaving a disheveled Levi outside with a look of surprise on his face.

He stares at the door for a moment, wondering whether or not he should go after you or send someone to help, but then he thinks better of it and heads towards the king’s chambers to inform him of the raid.

---

It was the day following the bandit attack, and you had two guards following you on your heels. Bertholdt and Colt were both on edge, you could tell. You know they weren’t quite as experienced, and that they knew you had seen something… dark, yesterday.

The two of them don’t say a word, though, and follow quietly behind you as you make your way towards one of the sitting gardens within the palace. You had gotten cleaned up, your skin washed from any traces of blood and dirt, but you couldn’t help but feel like Rico’s blood coated your body.

You felt like red was covering you, smothering the fine lace of your light blue dress. But it wasn’t. So you kept quiet and walked, trying to clear the encroaching feelings and thoughts from your mind and body.

You find yourself slowing near a white rose bush, and you gaze upon the seemingly perfect flowers for a moment before muttering, “Isn’t it funny how this flower can grow so perfectly? Can live a life so pure?”

Colt and Bertholt stop behind you, giving each other inquisitive looks but not answering you. You don’t give them a moment to speak as you continue, “These flowers can stay here, in this garden, safe from the freezing temperature of the winter outside. They don’t ever have to die because they are safe, protected here.”

You turn to face your guards, a far-off, distant look in your eye as you mumble, “They don’t ever have to experience death, only the rebirth of new life.” A tear falls quickly from your eye, sliding down your cheek and onto the ground next to your heel-clad shoe.

Without another word, you turn on your heel and continue through the garden, solemn.

Your day is slow, and you can’t battle the thoughts that seem to torture you every waking moment. The moment you are released from your duties for the day, you set your sights on a glow in the middle of the darkness. The forge.

You hadn’t spent time in the smoked and charred room since Levi had taken you on as an apprentice. Typically you were so exhausted that you would just go to your room to clean up and fix up your armor and blades.

But tonight, you couldn’t stand looking at the walls in your room, or the pages of your favorite book that you could get so easily lost in. No, tonight, you needed to get out and get away from sitting and doing nothing.

So, you find yourself in the corner of the forge near the hearth, quietly stoking the fire, lost in thought. You thought about trying to find a blade to sharpen, or some armor that needed polished, but your feet seemed glued to the dirt floor next to the growing flames.

Deep marigold mixed with tawny and carmine, forming an intricate dance as you scoped the flames, looking for something. Maybe it was so that you could catch a sight of the soft sapphire and indigo licks that seeped in and out of the rusty haze. Maybe it was so that you could leave the thoughts of the bloody bandits out of your mind. Maybe you just wanted to forget the sting on your arm as your heart shattered while Rico’s life slipped away from your fingers.

Or maybe it was to forget the relief you felt when Levi’s gaze found you in your utter panic. The peace that streamlined through your body when you could see concern etched on his features. The comfort you found when he placed his hand on your arm, asking if you were alright.

You shut your eyes as the thoughts berated you, one after the other. You could hardly stand them, all you wanted was one moment of silence from your mind. In the haze of your head, you don’t notice the lithe figure that slips into the forge room behind you.

The figure catches sight of you curled up next to the hearth, sitting on the dirt. You were wearing what he could only imagine was an expensive, imported dress, but here you were, sitting on the floor. Dust and ash lay on your lap and the edge of your hem, but it didn’t seem to bother you one bit.

Levi set his gear down as quietly as he could on the table near the door, mentally battling with himself on whether he should leave or not. Just as he takes a step back, the fire cracks, breaking your train of thought, and the angle of your gaze changes to catch him red-handed.

Levi could curse under his breath, but he stayed silent before dropping into a respectful bow and murmuring, “Princess.” Your (colored) orbs are tinted copper in the light of the forge, but they widen as they recognize who was before you.

In a moment, you try to scramble to your feet, but Levi cuts in, “No, no, please, stay where you are. I was going to clean my gear, but I can find somewhere else.” He straightens up from his bow, his gloved hand reaching for his gear before he hears your voice.

“Please stay,” your voice practically croaks out, “Please?” The pain in your voice immediately catches Levi’s attention, and he can feel his resolve crumbling when he sees the wet glimmer in your eyes. He drops his hand from his gear, instead plucking his leather gloves off and removing the rest of his bulky gear.

Levi makes his way over to you, feeling your searing gaze on his every movement. He chooses to sit on the opposite side of the hearth from you, giving him a good look at your tear-stained cheeks. The clear look of distress tugs on his heartstrings in a way that confuses him.

What was that for? He’s just here to make sure you’re okay. You’re here all alone with no one to protect you.

At least, that’s what he told himself. He clears his throat, pushing the thoughts away as he asks, “Are you alright, princess?” You roll your eyes and sniffle, uttering, “Please just call me Y/n. And-” you pause, rubbing at your nose before sighing, “I don’t know.”

You can feel Levi’s watchful gaze on you, but you choose to gaze deeper and deeper into the flames. It’s silent between the two of you, and you think that you might have said something wrong. Levi blinks slowly, thoughtfully, and then replies, “It’s okay, you know.”

This catches your attention, and you turn your cheek toward him, catching sight of the meaning of his silver gaze. He continues, “It’s okay, to feel the way you feel. It’s not an easy thing to deal with.”

You want to brush him off and defend the soft and broken part of your heart, but you realize that Levi saw straight through your uncertainty. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Levi cocks his head slightly, his gaze burning into you like the heat wafting into your sides from the fire.

You swallow thickly, a dry and humorless chuckle falling from your lips as you manage, “It’s such a natural thing, yet all I can do is replay that moment over and over again, wishing there was something else I could do to save him.” “There wasn’t,” the instant reply comes.

Levi hadn’t taken his eyes off of you once, and you meet his gaze with a furrow in your brow as you fight off an incoming wave of sadness. “There wasn’t,” he repeats, softer this time, “That soldier was lucky to have you in his last moments, Y/n. At his end, he knew nothing else other than someone cared for his life.”

He finally tears his eyes away and he mutters, “And that can mean a lot to someone.” You take in Levi’s appearance at that moment. This… interesting, to say the least, soldier, sitting on the ground with a crying princess, talking about death. It was almost funny, the way it seemed like everything to you, but just another burden to carry for him.

In a bold move, you reach forward, your fingers gently resting on top of his own hand as you question, “How do you deal with death, Levi?” You shuffle your feet ever so slightly to get more comfortable, waiting for him to pull away at any moment.

Instead, he flips his hand over so that your digits rest in his palm, and looking at your hands he replies, “I remember them.” He glances up at you through his darkened lashes and when he sees the confused look on your face he elaborates, “When they were normal, healthy, alive. I remember whenever they smiled or laughed. When they weren’t sick or dying.”

You nod delicately, taking in the deep timbre of his voice and the emotion that it carries. You reply, “But what if I don’t have those memories? I only saw Rico in passing a handful of times, I barely knew his name.”

Levi squeezes your hand and states, “You carry on with your life, living for him. Enjoying each moment so that his life doesn’t go to waste.” You give the dark-haired male a saddened smile and nod, squeezing his hand back when your voice seems to fail.

Thank you.

---

The chill of winter slides away with the onset of a warming spring, and things have been becoming more normal. You and Levi finally resumed training once you seemed to cope with the loss of Rico.

You were behind, yes, but doing everything in your power to catch up but with one major caveat. Your 18th birthday was just around the corner. Your days were full of meetings, ballroom preparations, lessons, training, and sword practice. There had hardly been any downtime to relax or breathe, and everything was slowly becoming overwhelming,

Levi was accommodating though, with practices starting later and later in the evening. You had started to learn and understand this raven-haired boy better, with his insomniac-like tendencies, and his peculiar and dry sense of humor.

You liked spending time with him.

To your benefit, Levi was a surprisingly good teacher, and even though most nights you were tired and fed up, Levi could handle your banter. He had a sharp tongue, which kept your focus on getting better, but he was never too harsh.

Whenever he was unable to help you, Annie or Pieck picked up the slack to be your punching bag or let you try out a new combination on them. But with months of training under your belt, you were becoming an increasingly lethal opponent.

One evening you were getting ready to head down to the training yard to practice with Levi, fixing your gauntlets and securing your sword as you rushed to get ready. It was the night before your 18th birthday, and your mother insisted on planning a huge ball for your coming of age.

Just as you were putting the finishing touches on your outfit, there was a knock on your door. Latching onto the handle, you open it to see Levi, who always comes by your room before practice. There was one glaring difference that caught your eye, shock covering your features as your gaze took him in.

He typically donned his plain, smooth metal practice gear when training with you, but instead, Levi was covered in new, glimmering plates of intricate armor. The smooth breastplate that once was blank and had no symbol, was now textured metal lined with gold and donned the royal insignia on it. His expression was no different than normal, he just wore his usual, stoic frown.

Your eyes widen at the realization of his upgraded armor and you can’t help the words that burst from your mouth, “You’ve made it into the guard?!” It comes out as an almost-shout, which catches Levi’s attention.

His silvery gaze widens ever-so-slightly at your realization, and he shuffles on his feet before he gives you a slow nod. He straightens up for a moment before motioning to the hallway outside of your room and replies, “Let’s go for a walk, princess.”

Your mouth is still parted open in surprise, and your hands have come to interlock in front of your chest, but you do as he requests and move to walk side-by-side with him down the hallway. Your footsteps fall in sync out of habit and you gasp at him again and say, “I didn’t know you were getting knighted today, you should have told me!”

The new knight just shrugs as if it made no difference to him, folding his arms behind his back in thought. He briefly looked to the ground and his black locks moved to fall over his angled cheekbones.

You playfully hip-bump him lightly, trying to reinforce your point. On the rare occasion he wasn’t paying attention, or he was just letting you think that, he stumbles forward a little bit. His arms come down to rest at his sides again and he looks over at you, slightly offended.

Giggles fall from your lips at his reaction and you chuckle out, “I’m serious! That's such a huge deal and you've only been here for a few months.” A soft, barely noticeable flush covers Levi’s cheeks, and he’s thankful that you don’t seem to see it.

He looks directly in front of you two and replies, “I’m doing my best to protect the kingdom.” You scoff and roll your eyes before retorting, “Puh-lease, you do your own thing without regard for anyone. That’s how you are, Levi.”

Levi’s eyes narrow as he turns to face you and just as he opens his mouth to respond you cut in, “I don’t even know if I can count your friends on the one hand.” You give him a look that says, “You know I’m right,” and he just rolls his eyes and groans, “It’s not like you’re much better, you only hang out with your guards and your maids.”

The playful banter between the two of you continues as you walk the cascading hallways of the castle. The intricate paintings hanging on the walls start to catch the rays of the glowing candlelight and the setting sun.

Before you know it, Levi is steering you into one of the courtyards - Josephina’s Garden Hall. You smile softly at the fond memory of your first-ever training session in this very garden. As you look around, there is not a single person around.

The thought crosses your mind that people are preparing for your birthday, which is just around the corner. Your mother was practically bursting at the seams to host a ball in the largest ballroom of the castle, so all energy was put towards the festivities.

Of course, there were still guards and knights littering the perimeter, but there were fewer stationed around unoccupied areas to focus on decorating or protecting the exterior of the castle.

Levi pulls ahead of you by just a stride, heading toward one of the walls that is adjacent to one of your favorite rose gardens. One of the bushes is coated in giant red blooms, and just as you are about to say how beautiful they are, Levi reaches for something behind one of the flowers.

“What are you-” you start but are interrupted when you catch sight of what he was grabbing. It was a brand new, dark leather sheath with a sword in it. A sheath with your initials on it.

You quickly glance from Levi to the sheathed blade and back again. He returns your gaze with a strange intensity you’ve only ever seen once from him, and it makes you want to almost squirm. It felt like he was seeing through and into you, and it made your heart flutter in your chest in a way you never experienced.

“Happy birthday, princess,” Levi whispers, handing you the darkened leather. Your lips are parted in complete surprise as you accept it from him, your eyes raking over the intricacy of the stitching of your initials.

You don’t waste another moment before grabbing onto the hilt of the sword, drawing it firmly out of the sheath. The last of the sun’s rays catch the unmarked length of the blade, making it glow like an ember burning in the hottest of fires.

Your mouth had fallen open in true admiration and shock at this point, and you turned to Levi in complete wonder and appreciation. You swallow thickly and stutter out, “I, I can’t accept this, Levi,” dropping the sword back into the sheath and offering it back to him.

The dark-haired man simply shakes his head and states, “You deserve that blade, princess. You’ve worked very hard, and while you still have a lot to learn, you need more than a wooden practice sword or dull blade to protect yourself.”

You can’t help the huge smile that rushes to your face, and a wave of excitement takes over you. In a split second, you lunge forward toward Levi, crushing him into a huge hug.

He once again isn’t fast enough to react, and he’d never admit it, but he was enraptured at the sight of you: your hair falling perfectly around your face, the light of the sun reflecting the pure joy in your eyes, the strength you exuded as you held your new blade… you were stunning.

Levi struggles against you for a second, afraid someone would think he was taking advantage of you, alone like this, but after a moment, softens into your embrace and slowly pats you on the back.

You pull away from the hug as a stray tear runs down your cheek. You sniffle as you let out an embarrassed laugh, wiping at the tear as you gush, “I apologize, I didn’t mean to get so emotional. This is such a beautiful gift, Levi. I don’t even know how to properly thank you.”

Levi lets a hint of a smile rest on his lips, and his eyebrows softening ever so slightly as he murmurs, “You don’t need to thank me for anything. I should be thanking you for giving me a place here at the palace, and I apologize for being so rude when I first arrived.”

You wave your hand dismissively at him before laughing, “It’s alright, you were the first and only person to openly challenge me like that, and I needed that reality check.”

The two of you stand in silence for a moment, close to one another but not quite touching. You shuffle and glance at your feet and at your hand holding your new blade. You mumble, “There’s something I want to ask you, Levi.”

He quirks an eyebrow in interest at your sudden shift in tone but he motions for you to go on with a gentle nod. You sigh before a saddened smile covers your face, the dying rays of the sun just catching the last of your drying tears.

“Annie is leaving the guard after my birthday celebration is over,” you explain, “She wants to live a life with her father in the country, and the king has arranged for her to leave. That leaves a gap in my defense, and while I’m much more capable of defending myself, I’m missing a knight-” “I’ll do it.”

Levi’s voice comes out soft and low, and it catches you off guard at how much emotion it seems to hold. “I’ll join your personal guard if that is what you wish, princess. Just say the word and that will be my next mission in life.”

You blink up at him, your smile shifting from one of sadness to one of thanks, “Please, would you join my personal guard?” Levi bows to you and utters quietly under his breath, so quiet you don’t hear him, “As you wish.”

When he stands up straight, you give him a slight bow and the two of you stop for a moment, silently regarding the other. A moment passes and you give him an almost cheeky smile before turning away, and without hesitation, Levi follows you.

---

You see, that was the start of a beautiful friendship between you and the dark-haired man. It was built on long days of sparring, bickering, and slowly but surely, tolerating each other. On the day of your 18th birthday, Levi was appointed to your guard and soon began taking his patrols with Pieck, swapping in and out with Porco, Reiner, and the other guards who had also recently been knighted.

Now officially a knight, it was harder to get training practices in, but whenever it was his shift to watch over you, the two of you found yourselves in the training grounds. The training sessions continued for months, your sword skills becoming more and more refined.

Before you knew it, a year or two seemed to slip by like the finest silk, and your friendship with Levi bloomed into something tried, true, and trustworthy. He was always there when you needed him to be, a reliable soldier and a trusted friend.

You weren’t blind to how the two of you grew up, Levi got slightly taller and thicker with muscle. No matter the day, he always, always, always got stronger. You, on the other hand, became more elegant and stronger in your own ways. You became physically stronger, yes, but you found your voice and learned how to rule and talk to your subjects while remaining kind as you always had been.

Over time, Levi had learned your ways rather quickly. The time you woke up. How long it took you to roll out of bed. Just how you liked your morning coffee or tea. It seemed so domestic every morning whenever he’d knock on your door to see if you were awake or not.

A fondness developed between the two of you for those easy morning conversations, not that either of you would admit it. While the two of you constantly bickered and playfully argued, Levi saw through the facade and to the sweet and tender side of you.

It was moments when you would kindly thank your maids, or encourage your younger siblings. He saw the way you treated the guests who would visit from overseas, and he found a deep respect for you.

And although you had many personal guards, Levi ended up being the one that stuck by you the most often, often by your parent's wishes. With Levi in the guard and not out protecting the towns surrounding the palace, crime rates had increased. And so, the king and queen wanted you to be the safest you could, with the best protection around.

---

On a cool winter morning, with snow glistening on the windowsill, you had just gotten dressed and were preparing for a meeting with your parents. They had found someone they thought would be a lovely suitor for you, as you were now old enough to be betrothed to someone of equally high status.

A soft knock on your door catches your attention, and you fumble with your earrings as you call, “Just a moment!” But the door opens anyway, and in comes Levi, a scowl covering his face.

Yet when his eyes land on you, fixing your earring in a slight panic, his eyes soften and he mutters, “It’s just me, relax.”

His silvery eyes seem to linger, though. They take in the gentle curve of your cheek dusted with blush, then fixate on the necklace hanging around your neck.

Levi is no fool. He has come to know you over the years, and he knows you are one of the most beautiful women he has ever seen. Of course you were, you’re a princess.

He has to shake his head slightly to clear his thoughts before he coughs once to clear his throat. Levi glances up at you and states, “It’s almost time for your meeting with the king and queen, Y/n.”

You give him a warm smile and ask, “Walk with me?” Levi offers you his arm in his classic fashion, and you take hold of his arm like you always did.

Levi guides you out of your room and down the familiar hallway. The arches were cast in a soft, ethereal glow, the snow from the courtyard reflecting the light brightly. Your steps land in sync and quietly echo as the two of you silently move toward the meeting halls.

You sigh and glance down at the floor as you mumble, “I don’t know if I’m ready for this, Levi. My parents have spent so long trying to find me a suitor, but I’ve disliked all of them. I’m afraid they’re running out of patience, or that I’m not worthy to be a good wife.”

Levi stops in his tracks at your words, a bored and stern look on his face. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand before running it through his black locks and saying, “Are you kidding me, Y/n? You are a beautiful, strong, and intelligent princess. You are practically the epitome of a queen and wife, and if anything, I think you scare a lot of your suitors off because of that.”

Surprise floods over you, and the words of praise coming from Levi seem to float around in your mind. Beautiful? Strong? Smart? He thinks I’m beautiful?

But Levi doesn’t give you any more time to think. He continues walking, dragging you along as he finishes, “Just because you haven’t found the right man for you yet, doesn’t mean that you won’t find him. He might be the most surprising person you’ll ever meet.”

You stay quiet at that, walking silently next to your knight and trying to process his words. And before you know it, you have made it to the meeting room where you knew your parents and a suitor would be waiting.

Levi slowly releases your grip, letting his hand slide down your arm before grasping your palm. He gives your hand a gentle and encouraging squeeze before releasing it, and walking up to the large door.

He hits the knocker three times to signal your arrival, and just a moment later two butlers open the door from the inside, ushering the two of you in.

Just as you expected, your mother and father were sitting at the head of the table, and at your entrance into the room, all eyes were set on you and Levi. You are dressed to perfection, regarding the room with elegance and grace, taking in the setup and the profile of the room and the suitor.

The tall, blonde gentleman stands up and bows before you can speak and states, “Good morning, princess.”

You swallow deeply and smile as you curtesy and reply, “Good morning, sir.” You take your seat next to your mother, and you can feel Levi’s steps stiffen as he walks behind you, pulls your chair out for you, and gets you settled in.

He ends up standing a chair or two down in the corner of the room, watching and waiting as he was trained. Your eyes flash towards your parents in a sweet greeting before you take in the appearance of the suitor.

The man was tall. Very tall. He had longer blonde hair and just a small bit of facial hair. He wore very fine clothing, embroidered with intricate details, and obviously fitted by a professional tailor.

The potential suitor bows again and states, “I appreciate your time this morning, Princess Y/n, my name is Viscount Miche Zacharius.”

At the sound of his name, you could hear Levi’s blade scraping against the wall ever so slightly. You shoot him a concerned glance, but all you can see is a hardened look on Levi’s face.

He looked… mad?

You turn back to Miche, and with a practiced smile you reply, “It’s wonderful to meet with you this morning, my lord.” The blonde smiles in response, and before he can speak again, the king cuts in, “Tell us about your kingdom, Miche. Y/n would love to hear about your homeland.”

Your teeth grit together as your father speaks for you, but you keep the practiced smile plastered on your face as you watch Miche chuckle slightly nervously, but he nods.

Seconds fade into minutes, and minutes lead onto an hour as Miche, your father, mother, and occasionally you, make conversation. You could tell Miche was a nice man with good morals, but there was something lacking in the conversation that kept you jumping for joy.

However, your mother and father thought the two of you kicked things off well, even considering the fact they hardly let you talk to the man. Your mother was so enthralled with the idea of you and Miche that she suggested a ball to be hosted for the two of you to get to know one another better - an offer your father couldn’t refuse. And neither could you.

“What a grand idea!” Miche exclaims, standing up to shake your father’s hand, “Do let me know of the details as soon as you get it planned.” He then turns to you, excitedly and says, softer, “I do hope you’ll save me some spaces on your dance card, princess.”

You giggle uncertainly and reply, “Of course, my lord.” At that, Miche takes your hand, gently, and presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles before giving you a bow and leaving the room, your father a pace behind him.

Your mother is practically swooning at how sweet the man seems to be, but you are quite taken aback by his forwardness. You hear metal scrape against the wall again, and out of the corner of your eye, you can see a firm frown etched on Levi’s features.

He was pissed.

The walk back to your room is quiet and tense, with no words passing between the two of you. You could have practically screamed in frustration when your door finally latched closed and it was just you and Levi on the other side.

“Who does he think he is?!” you immediately lament, whipping around the face of Levi, who’s already rubbing at his face in frustration. In response, he just groans, “I think he’s the most bold one yet. You have to dance with that guy?”

You pause and look Levi in the eye before groaning, flopping down onto your bed like a little girl. Levi folds his arms across his chest and shrugs, “At least he’s polite?” You harshly look over at him, a pout on your lips.

“He’s like talking to a tree that never became a book. He just kept growing,” you manage to mumble around the sheets of your bed. Levi scoffs at your words before leaning back against the door and snaps back, “The guy sure is full of himself. No wonder it’s taken him this long to find a wife.”

You feel a pang run through you and you sit up from your bed, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “I’ve been looking for a suitor for a while too, Levi. Hopefully, I’m not full of myself. Or not too picky.” Your hands find themselves carding together as you look down at them, and you miss the dark-haired knight’s expression change.

The furrow in his brow softens and he pushes off the wall to stand in front of you. He takes a breath as he stops in front of you and starts, “Y/n, I-” But you beat him to it, “What if I never find love, Levi?” You look up to meet his silver gaze at that moment, tears darkening your lashes.

Levi sighs, letting the air flow freely out of his nose as he sits down next to you on your bed, quiet. Then, he meets your gaze once again and he murmurs, “You will, Y/n/n. You will.”

You smile sadly at him, and he reaches his hand toward your face to tuck an unruly piece of hair out of your face. Just before his hand can make contact with your skin, there is a knock at the door.

The moment is gone in a flash, and Levi quickly moves to stand post by the doors to your balcony and you wipe under your eyes. You guiltily look at Levi, who has gone back to his classic stoic look, staring straight ahead.

Another pang of guilt runs through you as you tear your eyes away from his frame, instead focusing on the person on the other side of your door. You take a breath and then call, “Come in!” Then, a head of blonde hair appears and you recognize the guard as Reiner.

“I was told I might find you here,” he says with a bow, “I was sent to relieve Levi from duty for a little while.” Reiner props the door open a little further before stepping into the room, and Levi turns to regard his fellow soldier with a respectful nod.

Before he leaves the room, the dark-haired man faces you and gives you a bow with a simple, “Good day, princess.” Before you know it, he’s gone, and it’s just you and Reiner left in the silence of the room.

---

Over the next couple of days, you didn’t see much of Levi. You thought it slightly odd, but you figured he was on a personal quest for your father or taking some personal days. Eventually, when you were trying to find him so you could spar a little, he couldn’t be found anywhere.

You stopped a maid who had brought fresh linens for your bed and asked, “Have you seen a short, dark-haired knight recently? He goes by the name Levi, I haven’t seen him in a while.” The maid pauses in thought and then replies, “I do think I recall a dark-haired soldier turning up in the infirmary a few days ago. I can check to see if that is who you are talking about.”

You shake your head and quip, “There will be no need for that, I will make my way there now.” Without another moment’s notice, you turn and slide out of your room, (colored) gaze set on finding the infirmary.

Typically, you didn’t spend much time in the infirmary because you were royalty and you had your own personal staff. However, you occasionally would pick up small supplies after training if you had a small cut or brush burn from the grass.

It was fairly quiet as you slipped into the entrance of the sick bay, with no doctors or nurses in sight. You take a deep breath as you peer around the few rooms that make up the infirmary, making your way as silently as you can so as to not disturb anyone resting.

Just as you make it to the last room, you can hear coughing on the other side. You just barely peer through the door when you catch sight of a familiar black head of hair. Levi.

You push the door open and remark, “I wondered where you disappeared to, soldier.” Levi’s head immediately snaps up to take in your frame entering his small room. He opens his mouth to answer you, but another coughing fit overtakes him.

You rush next to his side, finding a small cup of water on his bedside table. You offer him the cup, watching him soothe his irritated throat with a frown before handing the water back to you.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he grumbles out lowly, trying to avoid sputtering again. A giggle slides through your lips before you can stop it, and you bring a hand up to cover your smile when you catch sight of Levi’s annoyed gaze. It only makes you giggle harder, and you can see his displeased look ease a little at your laughter.

As you calm down, you manage to take a breath and smirk, “It looks like you’re sick to me, Levi.” The dark-haired knight just rolls his eyes, his hands fiddling with the blanket on his lap to pull it up higher on his waist.

“It’s nothing,” he grumbles out again, “The king and queen forced me to come down here so I can “recover as fast as possible” or something.” You nod knowingly with a gentle smile on your face, saying, “I can imagine they only had the best intentions and wanted to see you well before the suitor’s ball tonight.”

He groans and rubs at his flushed face with one hand and mumbles through his night shirt’s sleeve, “Don’t remind me about that. I think standing there watching everyone dance and act so cheerful would kill me faster than any blade would.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at your best friend replying, “You are so dramatic!” But then a moment passes and you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear saying, “Actually, you’re probably right. My mother is going to have me hanging on every man’s arm within a thousand miles tonight.”

This time, Levi is the one to just barely crack a smile and he shrugs, “Who knows, you might actually enjoy the ball. There will be no lack of eligible suitors, and I can’t imagine all of them are complete imbeciles.”

His words get you to giggle again, and you nod along in agreement, your eyes trailing toward the clock on the wall. As the time on the clock registers in your mind, panic starts to set in and you scramble to your feet muttering, “Crap, crap, crap!”

Levi’s gaze follows yours and he realizes it too: you’re late for getting ready! You glance apologetically at Levi, who goes to swallow and then starts sputtering with more coughs.

He waves you off and manages to squawk out, “Go have fun, tell me all about it later.” You give him a grateful smile and over your shoulder you call out, “I will! Please try to feel better and get some rest!”

With one last glance over your shoulder, you set off toward your room to get ready for the ball. Your maids about mauled you when they finally managed to wrangle you into your ballgown and start to get you presentable for the public.

Since Levi was out sick, Reiner and Porco were assigned to watch over you for the evening. They follow closely as you make your way to the ballroom, greeting guests pleasantly and making your way to the heart of the festivities.

While the ballroom was decorated magnificently, the entire atmosphere felt slightly disappointing and moderate. There were many suitors around, none of which seemed to interest you. In the distance, you could see Miche talking with another tall blonde male, but you ducked behind a waiter to make your move toward the king and queen.

Your parents were talking with lords about their investments and businesses, and all you managed to understand was that they wanted money from the royals. You have to refrain from rolling your eyes, but you stand quietly and listen to the conversation come to a close.

Your mother turns to you, excitement written on her features as she hands you a piece of paper saying, “Here is your dancing card, dear! I’ve already done you the liberty of picking out which suitors to dance with based on their resumes. Have fun!”

She wraps the filled-out dancing card around your wrist, tying it neatly before giving you a giddy smile and pushing you toward the man whose name is first on the list. Miche Zacharius.

You groan internally as you make your way over to the tall man, who grows visibly interested as you break into his peripheral. He excuses himself from his conversation, bowing in front of you when he sees you stop in from of him.

“Princess Y/n,” he says, straightening up and catching the lustrious light in your eyes. You give him a shallow curtsey and reply, “Lord Miche, how lovely to see you this evening.” In the back of your head, you couldn’t help but wish you were anywhere else at this very moment.

Miche tips his head toward you and shrugs, “I think it is I who am the lucky one to be in your presence.” And as if on cue, the orchestra starts playing the next song, a waltz, to which Miche offers you his hand with a, “May I have this dance?”

You give him a tight-lipped smile and place your gloved hand in his own, allowing the tall blonde to escort you to the empty dance floor. He begins to move the two of you around the dance floor, carefully swinging you through the other couples who start dancing around you.

Miche smiles down at you and asks, “If I may ask, princess, how many children would you like to have one day?” It feels like the air is sucked out of your lungs as you give him a polite smile and respond, “Sorry, I’m trying to count my steps, perhaps we can discuss this later?”

He has the liberty to keep his mouth shut during the first dance, but once the two of you take a break and you look at your dance card, you can see your mother has booked him for the next four dances.

During those dances, Miche asks you too many questions, to which you politely respond. You tried to sound not too interested but also not too dry, simply polite. You were praying for when the fifth song would end, and you don’t think it could come soon enough.

The whole point of the ball was aggravating to you, and you couldn’t help but hate the evening as you were twirled from lord to lord. You wanted to slip out unnoticed, find a pint of wine or something of the like, and complain about all of it to Levi.

However, you manage to stick it out through the night, engaging in pointless conversation and dancing until you are about to roll your ankles. As the night wrapped up and your dancing card was completed, you scanned the crowd, your eyes landing on Porco and Reiner, who seemed to be arguing about which lady in waiting was the prettiest.

You scoff at the two knights, but with them distracted, it gives you the perfect opportunity to slip away. You take one more scan of the room before slowly backing out of one of the doorways. With no one’s eyes on you, you disappear from the ball without a trace.

You had your eyes set on one thing - go check on Levi and tell him about your endeavors that night. You weren’t able to find a bottle of wine to easily sneak out, but you did find a small plate of cheese that you grabbed on your way to the infirmary.

As you make your way back to Levi’s sick room, you can hear the sound of metal scraping. You raise an eyebrow at the noise, and as you poke your head into the small room, you can see the source.

There’s Levi, sharpening his blade in the middle of the night. You sigh and bring your hand up to knock on the wall to alert him of your arrival. His head snaps up quickly from his sword to your figure at his door, his body going tense in a moment.

When he realizes it's you, you can see him relax, but his gaze remains on you, fixed. You can’t quite place the look on his face, his eyes are wide and locked onto you, completely frozen. You duck under the sudden intensity in his gaze, murmuring, “I brought you some cheese from the ball.”

You walk into the room, the ruffles on the edge of your skirt rustling as you place the plate next to his water on the nightstand by his bed. Levi’s silver gaze follows your every movement, no words escaping him. You sit down in the chair next to his bed, grab a small piece of cheese, and pop it into your mouth with a huff.

You glance over to see Levi still staring at you while you chew, and suddenly you feel hot under his watchful gaze. You look down for a second and swallow before asking, “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

A moment passes as you wait for his response, and it gives you a second to take in his condition. His usually pale cheeks were painted pink with a gentle flush and his skin was slightly shiny from sweat. He must have a bit of a fever, you think to yourself.

Levi swallows thickly as he looks at you, his mouth opening and closing once or twice with no words leaving them. Mistakenly, you think he can’t answer because his throat hurts and he needs water, so you burst out, “Let me get you something to drink!”

Your hand reaches to grab his cup of water, which seems to be empty. In a flash, Levi’s hand has wrapped around your wrist, his silver eyes never leaving your face. The quick movement startles you, which makes you drop the cup, a small amount of water falling onto the floor.

Levi’s sword clatters to the ground, which makes you flinch in surprise. You glance from the water pooling near your feet to the sword that landed on the opposite side of the bed and back to Levi.

Your mouth parts open in a stammer as you start, “Sorry, let me, uhm… let me grab a towel to clean this-” “You look beautiful,” he cuts in lowly. You raise your eyebrows in surprise at his comment, the words slowly registering in your head.

Once they do, you can feel butterflies erupt in your belly and you glance away from the dark-haired knight and roll your eyes playfully. “Oh hush, you’re just seeing things with your sickness.”

This seems to snap Levi out of his daze and he releases your wrist with a playful scoff of his own, “You wish, princess.” You smile at him, one that he knows is of thanks to his compliment. He clears his throat and questions, “How was the ball? It must not have been great if you are down here all ready.”

You lean down to pick up his cup off the wooden floor, a groan falling from your lips, “It was all crap, Levi. It was men who wanted money, men who wanted the crown, and men who wanted to dance. It was so annoying. ”

You straighten back up, placing the cup back on the table and skirting around the water on the ground. Levi chuckles at that, and he motions to the edge of his bed with his chin and says, “Tell me all about it.” A giggle falls from your lips as you move to sit near his feet and you reply, “As long as you’ll listen to me complain about how terrible of a dancer Miche is!”

The rest of the evening is peaceful compared to the stress of the ball, the two of you making fun of the suitors and princes from across the countryside. You don’t even realize how late the evening runs, but you do know that you aren’t ready for bed just quite yet.

---

A couple of days had passed since the suitor’s ball and Levi had been put down with his illness. Thankfully, after another day or two of rest, he seemed to turn for the better and was ready to get back to the service.

Just around 8 o'clock in the morning, just as he always would, Levi makes his way toward your bedroom, feeling energetic and recovered from being sick. He stops in front of the familiar and grandiose door, pausing in thought before knocking on the dark wood.

He waits for a minute or so, but he doesn’t hear any noise from the other side of the door. The dark-haired knight sighs in slight annoyance, it’s his first day back, after all, and you aren’t responding. Levi knocks again on the door, this time a little harder and with more urgency.

When he is once again met with silence, he takes it upon himself to call out, “Princess Y/n? Are you alright?” To anyone else, it may have sounded like he was just calling out to you, but between you and him, he knew there was worry in his voice.

His impatience seems to take over him, and Levi finds his fingers wrapping around the door handle and pushing it open. As he steps into your room, one he had been in many times, his steely gaze rakes across every detail he sees.

Your bed was empty and remade, so you weren’t asleep. The loveseat in the corner of your room where you typically sat and read was also void of your presence. Levi turned toward the bathroom that was connected to your room, but there was no sign of candlelight or movement.

A sigh falls from Levi’s parted lips in frustration, and he shuts your bedroom door behind him before stepping deeper into your personal space. He opens his mouth, about to call out for you again before he sees a figure moving in the walk-in closet behind your desk.

It’s you, thankfully, and Levi’s figure relaxes as he takes in the… interesting sight of you. You were shuffling out into the main space of your bedroom, your hands grabbing at the bodice of the dress, with a slightly irritable look on your face.

He almost cracks a smile as he watches you fumble and almost trip as you make your way up to him, but instead, he murmurs, “Well good morning to you, princess.” You give him a playful scowl and mutter, “Shut up, …and help me zip this please?”

At the end of your sentence, you swivel 180 degrees, showing him your half-exposed back, where you couldn’t quite finish zipping the dress up. You wait a moment and then rush out, “I don’t know where my maids are and I couldn’t find anyone else to help-”

“It’s alright,” Levi’s voice cuts in lowly, and you can hear him take a step toward you. This makes you relax, shuffling your hands to pick the dress up to the correct height to be comfortable.

However, with your back to Levi, you miss the complete and utter look of nervousness and awe on his face as his hands make contact with the soft skin on your back. His typically stoic resolve crumbles when his hands just barely begin to quiver as he grabs a hold of the fabric and begins to pull it taut.

Levi is silently cursing the heat that is rushing to his face, swirling in his chest, and giving him butterflies in his stomach. With pink dusting his nose and the close proximity to you, his magnificent best friend, he wasn’t sure what to feel. But, he pushes through, his hands grabbing onto your waist so the zipper would slide up the fabric with more ease.

You aren’t in much better condition than Levi, and you’re glad he can’t see your face. Heat is coursing through your veins, but his warm touch has chills running up and down your spine. A shuddery breath escapes you as you feel his palm flatten against your waist, and you have to will yourself to be calm as he works on zipping you in.

His fingers work in good time, making sure the intricacies of the dress are not damaged or pulled on as he zips the dress up closer to your neck. At the top of the zipper, there is a small clasp to keep it from pulling apart, and he brings both hands up to clasp it.

You feel his warm breath on your neck, and you can feel goosebumps rising on your skin from the small distance between the two of you. It’s completely silent between the two of you as he takes a minute step backward, but it’s enough for you to feel like you can breathe.

The air is thick, heavy almost. There was tension, and you aren’t quite sure where it originated from. You can’t help but be disappointed when his warm hands leave your waist, and you try to fight down the butterflies in your belly as your brain processes his touch.

You liked it. No, you needed more of it.

What? How could you think that? Levi was your… what was Levi?

As you turn around to face him, you give him an uncertain and slightly shy smile and whisper, “Thank you.” Levi holds your (colored) gaze, looking deeply into what could almost be his favorite color, and gives you a subtle nod.

He was just your personal knight, right? He was your best friend, right? …You had no idea.

You take a shuddery breath and start, “Levi, there’s something I-” but you are interrupted by a flock of maids bursting into your room. You jump away from Levi, who also takes a few steps backward and moves to stand near the door.

“We are so sorry, Princess Y/n, for being late! We knocked on the door several times but we did not hear an answer,” one of the older maids says, curtsying low in front of you. You turn to face her and you give her a tight-lipped smile and reply, “It is quite alright, Marie.”

The maid stands up and urges, “You must not be late for your foreign policies lecture, the queen will have my head if you are not on time!” You give her a nod and looking over her shoulder to Levi, you ask, “Walk with me?”

The maids clear out of the way, dispersing as quickly as they came. Levi clears the doorway for you, letting you lead the way down the hall. It was quiet for a moment before the dark-haired knight cleared his throat and murmured, “You were saying?”

“It was nothing,” you rush out, wringing your hands together in a nervous fashion. Silence falls between the two of you again, and you direct your vision to the many doors and paintings you pass on the way to the lecture hall.

It’s an uncomfortable silence, so you try to break it with a joke, “I was surprised you weren’t earlier than you were this morning, seeing as it is your first day back since your illness.” Levi scoffs at your remark and refutes, “I do believe it was you who was up earlier than normal, I knocked on your door precisely at 8 o’clock.”

You giggle at this, your hands still fiddling with one another as the pair of you glide down the hallway. The banter picks up between the two of you as normal, but Levi couldn’t help but feel like there was something you may have been hiding from him.

However, he brushes it off and tries to think nothing of it while he stands guard outside of your lecture hall. He tries to focus on getting back into work and pushes the feeling of your skin and body out of his mind.

---

It had been a few days since the zipper incident and the king and queen announced that they wanted to host a festival in the town square with the spring season ending and merging into a beautiful, warm summer.

For you, it was one of your favorite times of the year, since you got the chance to meet with the children of the town. You loved playing with the children, encouraging their interests, and not letting them give up on their hopes and dreams.

You adored events like this, so it was only natural that you were getting dolled up to meet with the people of your home. The festival typically hosted live music from the best musicians around, food brought from all over the country, and the town square decorated to the top for the best area to go dancing.

You spent most of the morning getting ready for the festival. You had to make sure your dress was absolutely perfect - not too extravagant, but still dressy enough for everyone to recognize you as the princess. Then, you put the finishing touches to your makeup before Levi came knocking on your door around noon.

“Are you ready?” he asks as he guides you through the castle and out through the gates. You sigh dreamily before answering, “I believe so. This is one of my favorite times of the year, after all.”

The two of you made your way down to the town just outside the palace, where people were bustling about, trying to finalize the touches to their stalls. Children were laughing and playing, running around with yellow and red streamers in their hands.

Levi guides you around them, leading you toward the heart of the festival, and your favorite place to be: the dance floor. There were even more children here, and the orchestra was just set off the to side of the tiled area, a joyful tune bouncing off of their strings.

You leave Levi’s side to join them, falling in with the children to dance and let loose. The daytime was made for the children during the festival, and then when the stars would come out and the sun sank below the horizon, the parents would enjoy themselves.

You sing and dance with the children for what seems like hours to Levi, but he doesn’t mind as he stands guard on the edge of the town square. He could easily see you but also maintain a visual around the dance area, his silver gaze on the lookout for any potential intruders.

The songs seem to blend together until a small brown-haired boy grabs onto your right hand. He tugged on your fingers for a moment and asked, “May I dance with you, Princess Y/n?” Your heart feels like it’s about to burst with the sweetness from the young boy, and you give him a sweet smile and a nod.

“Lead the way, good sir!” you chuckle out as you motion to the opening dance floor. Your sage green and dark brown colored skirts ruffle as you are led onto the floor by the bouncing young boy, and you can’t help but giggle as other young girls and boys join you in the middle of the town square.

You can hear the live orchestra count off, and the little boy offers you his other hand to dance, and with a genuine smile, you accept. Since the boy was maybe 8 years old, you had to lean down to hold both of his hands, but he didn’t seem to mind as he began to spin and twirl you around to the music.

While slightly clumsy and uncoordinated in his movements, you didn’t mind the boy's antics, giggling and laughing as the boy spun you, and you spun him. The other children were no different, gleefully dancing the night away.

You didn’t seem to notice Levi’s silver gaze watching you sharply, noting how you giggled each time the boy spun you or the way your eyes lit up when you got mixed up in all of the children dancing. To the dark-haired knight, you looked perfect at that moment.

With the afternoon sun’s warm rays casting down on you, you were simply golden. The festival's market stalls with red and yellow banners donning the kingdom’s insignia were paled in comparison to you. Although you were wearing a more simple gown for the festivities, you shone brighter than any of the lanterns or rays from the sun.

Levi couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. To put it simply, you looked gorgeous. Not just in the way that you were dressed and styled, but in the way that true joy brings out the best in someone. He could feel how raw your emotions were as you danced, and he couldn’t help but wish he was the one swinging you around instead.

Just as the upbeat song ended, Levi felt a passive tap on his side. He instinctively reached for the hilt of his sword, but when he looked to see what had bumped him, he immediately stopped.

There, looking up at him, was a little girl no older than 3 or 4 years old. She had dark, black curls falling around her face, and her bright blue eyes were wide as she stared up at the knight. The little girl taps again on his hand, slightly bouncing as she giggles, “Dance, dance!”

Little did Levi know, you had stopped dancing to catch your breath and talk to him, but you ceased your movements when you saw the little girl next to him. You can’t help but hold your breath as Levi turns to face her, and you can just barely make out the words he says.

“I’m sorry, miss,” he starts, moving to kneel down so he is at eye level with the girl. A frown starts to crease between her eyebrows and she repeats, “Dance! Dance!” She stomps her small feet against the ground in protest, and Levi says as he tries to explain, “I’m working right now, I’m not allowed to dance.”

Tears begin to well up in the little girl’s big blue eyes, threatening to spill down her smooth cheeks. Levi glances around for a second, eyes scoping to see if anyone watched him make this child cry.

From the corner of his periphery, he catches sight of you watching the interaction. He groans internally, but then he sees you motion to the little girl, and he turns to face her again. She reached across to where his arm was resting on his knee, gently grabbing his fingers.

“Dance?” She repeats softer this time, the tears sliding from the edge of her eyes and down her cheeks. Levi’s heart can’t help but melt a little at the touching sight and he lets out a sigh of defeat.

“Just one dance,” he manages as he stands up straight, offering the girl his gloved hand. Instantly, the little girl starts smiling and giggling, “Dance! Dance, dance!” before launching onto Levi’s thigh.

He’s caught off guard for a second, stumbling back a few steps before regaining his balance. The little girl just laughs the entire time, and once again, Levi glances around for help. Unsure of what to do, he reaches down and picks the little girl up by her small waist, hoisting her up to his side opposite his blade.

Just then, the music started to pick back up and more people were making their way to the dance floor, and Levi begrudgingly followed, much to the little girl’s enjoyment. As he shuffles toward the edge of the dance floor, he catches sight of Zeke and Porco, who are standing guard on the other side of the tiled area.

He could see the two blondes snickering to themselves, pointing to the little girl and back to Levi. He can feel a moment of rage well up inside of him, but he pushes it down as he turns to face the little girl and says, “May I have this dance, miss?”

The little girl throws her arms around Levi’s neck and giggles, “Dance, now, now!” Not a moment passes by before the crowd on the dance floor begins to move in sync with the music. Levi starts to copy everyone’s movements to the best he could holding a toddler, but she doesn’t seem to care about his mistakes.

He twirled and spun the two of them around, slowly but surely letting his guard down as he danced around with the girl. You on the other hand, sat watching the two of them from the sidelines, and your heart was swelling in your chest at the adorable scene in front of you.

I had no idea Levi could be so good with children, you think to yourself, Nor did I know he could dance!

As the two of them passed by every few seconds, you could hear the little girl laughing away, and occasionally you could pick up the word “dance”. The music eventually slows to a finish, and you once again see Levi get down on one knee in front of the little girl.

He reaches under his short cloak and pulls out a small clutch of white daisies, offering them to the little girl. She smiles brightly at him as he says, “I would gladly dance with you again, miss.” The little girl launches at him again, wrapping him in an awkward hug before grabbing the flowers and running off.

Levi watches her small figure run up to a woman with two children next to her and another one in her arms. A minute smile makes its way across his lips as he sees the little girl reach up and give her mom the flowers, turning to point back at the dark-haired knight.

The woman gives him a grateful smile, and he pushes off his knees to stand straight and gives her a nod. Just then, he hears someone clear their throat behind him, and when he looks over his shoulder, he sees you standing there.

The sun was just starting to set behind you, illuminating your frame in its golden glow. Levi’s breath catches in his throat as he turns to face you, noting the sly smile on your lips. You rock back and forth on your feet before saying coyly, “I saw you dancing with that little girl, soldier.”

Levi feels a wave of heat wash over him in embarrassment, his cheeks slightly tinging pink at your comment. He glances to the ground with a shrug and mumbles, “It was nothing.” You scoff at him and playfully hip-bump him with a giggle of, “C’mon, that was absolutely adorable!”

You can see a smile start to crack through his faux facade and you nudge him again, and he finally caves in with a chuckle of, “What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just hurt her feelings and leave her to cry.”

You laugh along with him, grabbing his arm as he starts to guide you toward the food stalls, “And the flowers? That was a bit over the top!” He just rolls his eyes, a pleasant smile on his face as he sighs out, “Let’s go get you some food before nightfall.”

He guides the two of you through the market stalls, and you pick and choose which snacks and foods intrigue you the most. Just as you finish off a small glass of cherry wine, Levi pulls you behind one of the market stalls without a word.

You don’t question his movements, simply following in his footsteps until you see where he’s brought you. It’s just one street down from where all of the festivities are taking place, and it’s much quieter without the hustle of everyone and the harshness of the music.

The fresh air and light breeze swirl around you, making you take a deep breath through your nose that you slowly sigh out through your mouth, (colored) orbs fluttering closed. Levi watches you in that moment, noting the way your hair was coming slightly undone from a small clip that pinned away (colored) locks behind your ear.

Then you open your eyes and turn to him, a sweet smile on your lips as you say, “Thanks for getting me out of there for a bit, it was starting to get a little overwhelming.” He nods under your watchful gaze, motioning to a small bench just down the street.

The two of you sit down for a moment, eyes fixed on the sun setting in front of you. The once golden color was now bleeding shades of carmine and lavender, swirled with rusts and peaches. It was silent except for the sound of the festival on the other side of the stone wall behind your bench, not that you minded.

A few minutes of silence pass between you and Levi before he starts to shift, catching your attention. He once again reaches under his cloak, hand fumbling for a second before reappearing with one lone daisy.

The small white flower was still in good condition, only the stalk of the plant slightly bent from where it resided on his belt. You glance from the flower back to Levi, whose cheeks are once again slightly flushed, and he offers the flower to you.

Your (colored) gaze widens as you take it from him, admiring the pureness of the petals and the beautiful golden color of its core. You move to place it in your hair saying, “Thank you, Levi! This will be a lovely addition to my outfit tonight.”

You struggle for a moment, trying to push the stem through your unruly locks of hair that were tangled from dancing. Levi’s voice distracts you as he asks lowly, “May I help?” You give him a thin smile and a nod, handing the flower back to him.

Levi pulls the leather glove off of his left hand, setting it on his lap before taking the flower from you. His thin digits reach up slowly, so as to not scare you, before pushing the stem of the daisy through your (colored) tresses. He then brushes a small piece of hair behind your ear, securing the flower and then dropping his hand back to his lap.

It’s tense for a moment, the air thick with emotion, but Levi coughs once and then starts, “Y/n, I’ve been meaning to ask-” “This is my favorite song!” you burst out, your attention turning toward the music coming from the other street.

The tune was loud and unmistakably your favorite, and you stood up in a hurry, calling, “We must discuss this later! I cannot miss my favorite song!” And with that, you disappeared around the corner, with Levi sighing from where he was on the bench, his stomach dropping.

But, he takes a deep breath, stands up, and follows you back into the festival.

---

Night had fallen. The sky was a deep, midnight blue, flecked with stars that glimmered in the lantern light of the festival. The crowd was livelier now than it had been before dusk, with all the children tucked into bed and the parents out on the town.

For you, however, you were done with dancing and playing. Now, you had to act like the royalty you were supposed to be representing. And that meant dealing with your father and mother who wouldn’t stop talking about Miche and other suitors.

“Honestly, Y/n, I don’t see why you aren’t getting excited about this time in your life,” your mother chastises, motioning to you up and down with a look of slight disappointment on her face. You want to groan internally at her comment, but you just reply tightly, “I would be excited if I found someone worth marrying, mother!”

Your father clears his throat and insists, “Well I do have another fine set of suitors coming in for you to try out. I even believe one of them is a prince!” Instead of being excited by the thought of more suitors, it simply enraged you.

You rise to your feet quickly, rushing out, “I can’t do this.” You take off through the crowd of lords and ladies in waiting, weaving in and out of the people until you disappear from eyesight. You blocked out the calls of your parents as you made haste, tears starting to burn at the edge of your vision.

Levi witnessed the whole encounter from a few yards away, still standing guard for the evening. He immediately takes off after you without saying a word, skirting around the edge of the crowd while tracking your movements.

You don’t notice Levi following you, too enraptured with the thoughts racing in and out of your mind. Tears are blurring your vision, and you are fighting back sobs as you pick up speed, now running toward the edge of the town.

You clumsily find your way onto the roof of a house near the edge of town, the small building far from the center of the festivities. You clamber to the top of the roof, facing the rising moon, which casts a pale glow that makes it so you can see where you are stepping.

Your mind, however, was at war. More suitors? Can’t my parents tell I don’t like their choice of men for me? Have they not seen how I can’t stand any of them? Why don’t they understand I need someone who knows me…. Who likes to be around me, and I like to be around them?

Someone like Levi, the words ring out in your head. A gasp bursts from your chest and you aren’t sure if you’re crying or trying to catch your breath.

Levi?

His name makes you stop for a second, and as the tears slide down your face and you gaze up at the waxing moon, it clicks in your head.

Your heart…. Yearned for someone like Levi. Your hands itched to grasp more than just his arm walking to and from a lecture. Your soul hungered for the conversations of intellect and familiarity. Your lips thirsted for his landing on yours.

The last thought makes your eyes widen in realization, but you don’t have any time to process it when someone sits down next to you. The familiar baritone sighs out, “There you are,” making you turn to face the dark-haired knight.

You give him a tight-lipped smile, one that is holding back tears and the few words circling your mind like a mantra. Levi’s silver gaze flits between your tearful eyes, and his features soften as he watches the teardrops stream down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey,” he almost coos, hunkering down a little to look up at your face as your chin dropped to your chest, attempting to stifle another sob. His brows furrow in thought before he asks quietly, “Are you alright, Y/n?”

There is a tenderness to his voice that almost makes you want to vomit, but you manage to strangle a deep breath in and let a shaky one out. You toss your head from side to side and stutter, “N-no, Levi. I- I’m, uh, not alright.”

You glance back down at your hands and stay silent. Levi stays still, deep in thought before gently imploring, “Would you like to talk about it? I am here to listen.”

This time, when you look back up, Levi can see the moon and stars reflected in your eyes. They were still wet with tears, but your (colored) orbs seemed to hold the entire night sky in them for one second.

And in that one second, a calm peace seemed to wash over the two of you just as you started to speak, “My parents are bringing in more suitors for me to get to know. They don’t think I’m trying hard enough with my royal duties.”

You sniffle, glancing over at Levi and then continuing, “I just feel as if I don’t ever get to do what I want. Or maybe it’s that I’m frustrated they don’t understand what I want.” Levi nods in understanding when you finish talking, shuffling for a moment before murmuring, “Well, they did let you learn to fight, which is something you wanted to do.”

You sway side to side, swinging your head ever so slightly as if to contemplate his words before muttering, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Levi could tell that wasn’t the response you were hoping for, but he was never one to sugarcoat things.

“You need to stand up for yourself, Y/n/n,” he murmurs, softer this time. “They don’t take you seriously because they still see you as a child, following their every order. You need to make them realize you aren’t their precious little girl anymore,” and his gaze locks onto yours with a fiery intensity.

“You’re a woman now, and a strong and independent one at that,” he finishes passionately, moving to stand back up. His words echo in your head, and each time you hear the truths behind them, you can’t help but focus on the tone of his voice.

You open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off, “Let’s get you back to the festival. We can’t have them thinking their princess ran off in the middle of the night.” At the end of his words, he offers you his hand to take, which you accept. He pulls you to your feet and steadies you before motioning back toward the glow of the festival and says, “After you, princess.”

---

It takes a few days for you to build up the courage to confront your parents about the whole suitor debacle. You knew it was something you couldn’t take lightly, but you knew you needed to tell them sooner rather than later.

And before you know it, you are standing in front of them, heart pounding in your chest as the words that your father just said pound in your head like a hammer.

Your mother and I are in agreement. You haven’t made sufficient effort in courting a suitor, so we have chosen one for you. You’re getting married tomorrow.

It feels like the floor dropped out from underneath you, falling into a nothingness that made your stomach whirl. Married? Tomorrow? You can’t deny their wishes even though your entire body is screaming at you to fight, argue, yell. But you can’t.

So instead, you numbly are whisked away to get fitted for a white gown that you didn’t want. You are run through the order of the wedding and the reception, what you are to do, what you are to say, how you are to act.

You didn’t have the guts to face Levi and tell him of the new development in your life, but you knew he was no fool. He heard the rumors, he saw the preparations. And when he was assigned to stand guard at the main hall the following day, he knew.

You hated everything.

You hated the yellowish tone of the white dress, you always wanted one that was more blush-toned. You hated the way your hair was pinned up off of your neck and out of your face. You didn’t want everyone to see your blank stare and emotionless eyes.

You didn’t want any of this. And neither did the dark-haired knight.

The two of you could only follow orders though, and so uneasily, you survived the night. The following morning comes and you are immediately fawned over by your maids and the wedding planners.

First - your makeup. Second, your hair. Finally, the dress. It was a routine that you had dreamed of being ecstatic about, completely in love with the man you were going to marry. But you weren’t.

There is a knock on your door precisely at noon. Three short taps in a row, followed by two shorter ones. Levi. Just thinking about him makes your heart ache with a pain you never knew you could experience.

A maid rushes to open the door, and just before her hand makes it to the golden handle, you call out, “Wait! Let the guard in and please leave. I require a moment alone.” The maid nods to you, opening the door with a smile and curtsy, sliding out of your room before a familiar figure makes his way in.

You were sitting on a short stool a few feet away from your vanity, staring at your reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. Your whole image was one of grace and elegance, everything a princess should be.

But the light in your eyes was one of a grounded bird. The emotion in your eyes was reminiscent of a beached whale. The frown on your face with the light of a dying deer, hunted by a mountain lion.

Levi stops in his tracks when he catches sight of you, his mouth parting as he takes in your appearance. To put it simply, you were beautiful. He coughs once to clear his throat, a tight line forming his lips before he states, “I am here to guide you to the main hall, Princess Y/n.”

You turn to face him at the sound of his voice, tears threatening to spill down your powdered cheeks. You can’t fight the wobble in your lip as you utter, “Levi…” You can’t see his brow furrow just a smudge more at the pain in your voice, and you feel terrible for not telling him.

“Levi, I- I-...” and you take a breath, your vision blurring over for a second before you continue, “I am so sorry for not telling you about this plan. My parents-” “I know,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

You sniffle and stand up, wiping tears away and reaching for a small towel to pat your face dry. He watches every movement, in awe that he could be near someone so ethereal, so heavenly. Levi finds words on the tip of his tongue again, dancing through his mind, coursing through his blood.

But he knows he can’t say anything, it’s your wedding day, after all. He bites his tongue to keep them from spilling out of his mouth, instead giving you a moment to steel your nerves. You walk toward him once you have cleaned up your appearance, and you open your arms with a sad smile.

“Can I please have a hug? I think it might be the only thing to get me through the day,” you croak out with a subtle shrug. Levi’s heart is pounding in his chest, bursting at the thought and meaning of your words.

He nods though, and takes a step forward, opening his arms to wrap around your waist. Your arms come to rest around his neck, pulling the dark-haired knight closer. His hands are warm on your waist, a feeling you know you will miss when he pulls away.

You don’t mind the hard feel of his armor or the feeling of his breath on your neck. You wished the moment would never end so that you didn’t have to marry a man you didn’t love. It’s ruined when the bells outside your window start to ring, and Levi forces himself to slowly pull away from you, looking deep into your (colored) gaze.

You sniffle again saying, “Thank you, Levi. For everything.” He bows and murmurs, “As you wish, Y/n.” As I wish? I wish… I wish to live in this moment forever, Levi. With you.

Levi clears his throat again, and you can see his stoic mask go back on. You feel a pang of guilt wash over you, even though you know it's not your fault. He offers you his arm, and for what could be the last time, you take it.

He guides you down the familiar halls of the castle you grew up in. There are people fluttering about, finalizing the touches to the reception to be held after the ceremony, but you do your best to block them out.

Instead, you try to focus on the feeling of your hand on Levi’s shoulder pauldron, the chill of the silver metal keeping your attention on the knight. In step, the two of you make it outside the doors of the ceremony, where you will walk down the aisle, alone.

Levi reaches across with his second hand, the gloved fingers grabbing your own digits. He squeezes them slowly in a way you know is meant to calm you down. It’ll be okay. I’ll be in there. You can do this.

You give him a tight-lipped and watery-eyed smile before gushing, “I’ll see you on the other side, right?” He squeezes your hand again and then steps away with a nod and says, “I doubt you could get rid of me if you tried.”

A dry giggle escapes you, making you breathe deeply for the first time that day. You are handed a bouquet of flowers, and as you turn to thank the maid, Levi disappears. Not a moment later, music starts to play from the other side of the doors right before they open.

You are met with the faces of hundreds of lords and ladies, people from the town, and the face of the priest and the man you were marrying standing on the altar. You take a deep breath before marching like a soldier down the aisle decorated with flower petals and large arrangements.

Everyone is standing, staring. But you try to ignore them, focusing on the feeling of your feet landing flat on the ground, the softness of the ribbon holding your bouquet together. The way your heart beat for another man, but was about to be given away to a stranger.

While it seemed like a mile long, you eventually make it to the altar, and you are met with the face of the man you were set to marry. You knew he was probably a good man. He probably had goals for his career, wanted to father a gaggle of children, wanted a wife he could count on and love.

And you knew you couldn’t do that for him.

Mindless words echo out as you repeat the vows from the priest, loveless and cold. You manage to make it through each line, but just as the priest asks, “Princess Y/n, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

I…. the thought reverberates in your head, I, I don’t love this man, I can’t marry him.

“Y/n?” a voice calls to you, and it shakes you out of your head. Your (colored) gaze snaps from the priest, who looks concerned, to the man you are about to marry, around to the gathered congregation. In your heart, you knew you were searching for one person. One man you knew your heart burned for.

You turn back to the priest, withdrawing your hands from your betrothed, and you utter, “I, I can’t do this. My heart belongs to another.” At that, you grab your skirts, rush down the few steps, and run up the aisle, leaving the man at the altar.

The crowd gasps in shock at the scandal playing out in front of them, and you see people reaching for you, grabbing at you as you make your way out of the main hall. You don’t hear your father’s call after you, lost in the destruction your heart created.

“Ackerman, find her!” your father’s voice booms out, but the dark-haired knight is already on the move. The knight immediately takes off, running as he tries to keep your frame in sight. He knew you were strong from all of your training, but evidently, your stamina was still intact despite wearing a heavy gown.

You find yourself running blindly, passing maids, butlers, and gardeners finishing up the last touches of flowers for the reception. Your lungs were burning like the red-hot flames from the forge you passed in desperation. You push past all of them, tears blurring your vision as you run as fast as you can away from everything.

You can hear footsteps following you, but you don’t really care who it is or what they want. “Leave me alone, please!” you wail as you tear through bushes, your eyes closed as you burst into an open garden. Unknowing to you, you ran the entire way to the Josephina Garden where you first encountered a certain dark-haired knight.

Not a moment later, a warm hand closes on your wrist, and you are quickly spun around to face the assailant. You blink through the tears as you make out the figure of Levi, concern written all over his face. Your chest is heaving from your run in the heavy white dress, but Levi seems rather unphased.

He takes a deep breath before stuttering out, “W-why did you say that, Y/n? You know you shouldn’t lie about stuff like that, especially in front of your family and, and the kingdom.” You can see the emotion on his face plain as day, like reading a book that you know word for word.

You could see the way his brow creased, like the gaps between paragraphs when the words seemed to stop flowing. You could see the confusion in his grey, steel eyes, that reminded you of the words you had to reread over and over again just to understand their meaning.

Every feature of his face, you knew, though. Levi was like the dog-eared fold in your favorite book, the paper worn smooth from how many times you flipped it open. He was like your favorite line when the girl finally let the guy take her out on the town on their first date.

Levi was memorizable, you knew every piece about him, and every thought and feeling as he stood in front of you, grasping your arm. Yet he was blind, and couldn’t read the book that he was himself.

“I am in love with someone else!” you shout again, moving to pull your wrist away from the grasp Levi had on it. He doesn’t budge though, holding you firm as you try to pull away from him.

He pulls you closer, his second hand coming up to grasp your shoulder as he barks, “Who?! Who on this goddamn earth would you be in love with?!” Levi pauses, looking deeper into your (colored) eyes before his voice cracks and he murmurs, “I’m your best friend, Y/n, you would have told me if there was someone else you loved.”

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, willing the tears to stop flowing and your heart to stop pounding as loudly as it was. You could feel it rattling your ribcage, attempting to crawl up your throat and make a fool of yourself.

And it betrays you in an instant.

“It’s you!” you exclaim, ripping your arms away from him in a moment of strength, throwing them into the air. The words ring out loudly, the silence that followed them almost deafening. You peek your eyes open as you look up from the ground to meet Levi’s hardened and confused gaze.

“It’s you, Levi,” you whisper as you lock eyes with him. He turns his head in bewilderment, and then he starts shaking it in denial, “No. No, it’s not. It’s not me, Y/n. Don’t joke with me about this.”

You laugh dryly as you throw your hands in the air again and scoff, “I wouldn’t lie or joke about something like this, Levi.” You meet his intense gaze again and gesture to him with a softer, “You know I wouldn’t.”

You can see him swallow thickly, his hands clenching by his sides. You can see the words forming on his lips, and you can just barely hear them when he whispers, “You can’t…” Levi doesn’t say anything after that, so you take the moment to fill in every question you know is racing around his mind.

“It’s… it’s always been you, Levi. It’s been you since the very first training session when you knocked me to the ground,” you start, your right hand coming up to caress your left bicep in shyness. “It’s been you since that night in the forge when you helped me cope with Rico’s death,” you whisper.

You shrug as you smile fondly and state, “It’s been you since you let that little girl dance with you at the festival. It’s been you since you sat on the roof with me, giving me a taste of normalcy.” You sniffle as fresh tears stream down your cheeks, “It’s always been you.”

Levi is mute. Not a sound escapes him as his mouth parts, unsaid words and questions hanging on the tip of his tongue. You don’t say anything, letting him process each and every moment, reliving them as you did in your own mind.

Finally, he speaks, “You’re lying. You can’t possibly love someone like me.” The words are harsh and cut right to your core. Lying? He thinks you’re lying? The look on his face shows that he is completely dumbfounded, flabbergasted, amazed.

Emotion and frustration builds up inside you as he denies you again. And then, you’ve had enough and you can’t handle it anymore.

“Believe me!” you shout, your voice ripping at the heightened volume. You pause as you feel your throat tighten and clench. Then, “Bel-believe me, when I say this to you, Levi,” and you straighten your shoulders to match his stance.

You meet his gaze and then your voice rings out, “Believe me when I say I love you.” A sob wracks your body and then you finish, “Because I do. I do love you, Levi, with my entire being.”

Passion overcomes Levi and he lunges forward, grabbing onto your waist as if you would disappear under his touch. He holds onto you for the first time without ever asking, pulling you close to him as he urges, “Repeat that, please.”

You look deep into his eyes as your hands come up to cup his angled cheekbones and you whisper, “I said I love you.” A smile cracks through Levi’s lips as he watches your lips move and as tears well up in his grey eyes he rushes out, “Again!”

A slight giggle falls from your lips as you repeat, “I love you, Levi.” The dark-haired knight just grips you tighter, pulling you closer and more flush to his chestplate. A moment passes between the two of you, and with Levi looking deep into your (colored) eyes he murmurs, “I love you, Y/n.”

You feel butterflies erupt in your belly, the feeling completely washing over you in mere seconds. Levi moves one hand from your waist to slowly close his palm on your cheek, his head tilting to the side ever so slightly.

“... may I?” his voice comes out so soft you almost miss what he says, but the meaning behind his silver gaze is undeniable. With such an intensity, his eyes flicker from your own (colored) ones to your parted lips, and there is no doubt in your mind.

Not trusting your voice, you nod, leaning into his touch without another thought. His nose bumps yours in a way that could be seen as clumsy and inexperienced, but it’s endearing the way he pauses, allowing himself to enjoy the smallest touches.

He nuzzles you for just a moment before his lips land on yours, soft and warm. He’s slow as his mouth meets yours for the first time. Levi is nothing but gentle as he kisses you, holding you with such a tenderness that it makes your knees weak. You clutch onto him as you let your mouth move against his, enjoying every second of his love.

You can’t bear to open your eyes when you feel him pull away, wanting to savor every fleeting memory of Levi kissing you. When you do allow your eyes to flutter open, you find Levi staring at you, cheeks pink and an embarrassed look on his face.

“Was that not to your liking?” you ask quietly, scared that you had somehow messed up your first kiss with the knight. Levi shakes his head from side to side, and with a small smile, he replies, “No, not at all. I just can’t believe there was something so perfect out there and I never knew it until this moment.”

You feel heat wash over you at his comment, eyes tipped toward the ground. The hand that was caressing your cheek stops your movement, pulling your chin up to face him. Levi’s gaze is so intense it feels like knives are splitting you open and he says, “You are so beautiful, Y/n. I would lay down my life for you if you asked.”

You smile at him and lean into his touch before whispering, “Let us hope it never comes to that, Levi. I don’t think I could live without you.” Levi smiles and murmurs back, “As you wish, princess, as you wish.”

–The End–

Tags: @anlian-aishang @xyumemi @xxdragonwriterxx @starstruckkittensweets @darlingheichou

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novaursa · 5 months ago

Note

Can I request a pre-rebellion Ned Stark x Targaryen!reader.

Reader is a skilled swordswoman and essentially sneaks into a tourney (by disguising herself in armour) and she duels against Ned and beats him. Then she reveals herself and he’s just real impressed and becomes smitten.

The duel is similar to this scene from GOT. - https://youtu.be/wE2XFEUXxjk?si=ai7YLWHfo5rFrT_0

Dragonsteel

- Summary: You enlist in the sword tournament under a disguise and steal Ned’s heart.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Eddard Stark

- Note: These events happen before Robert's Rebellion.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The tourney grounds were buzzing with excitement, a sea of colors and banners whipping in the brisk wind, but you were hidden away, slipping into your armor. It was a fine set—plain and nondescript, save for a small pendant around your neck, bearing the image of a three-headed dragon, its wings wrapped protectively around a tiny sword. It was something you’d carried since you were a child, but to everyone else, it was just a trinket. No one would suspect who was beneath the steel and mail.

This was your chance. You’d watched, eyes burning with envy, as knights from all over the realm tested their skill in the lists. Your father, King Aerys, had dismissed your requests to participate with a snarl, your mother with pleading eyes, and Rhaegar, ever the dutiful older brother, had only sighed and shook his head. But there was fire in your blood, a restlessness that couldn’t be quenched with needlework and courtly dances. So, you took matters into your own hands.

The sword felt like an extension of your arm as you stepped into the ring, the weight familiar, comforting. Your first opponent—a burly knight whose house crest you didn’t recognize—grinned down at you, clearly underestimating the slight, armored figure before him. His mistake. You disarmed him in three swift moves, his blade clattering to the ground as he blinked, stunned.

The crowd cheered, more in surprise than in recognition, and you took a deep breath, trying not to let the rush of victory get to your head. There were still more rounds to go.

One by one, you dispatched your opponents. Some were more skilled, some less, but none could match the ferocity of your strikes or the quickness of your feet. You moved like a dancer, weaving and striking with a grace few knights possessed. You caught glimpses of the royal box between bouts, the glint of Rhaegar’s silver hair and the white beard of your father. They were watching, as were countless others, but you doubted they knew it was you beneath the helm.

Finally, your last opponent stepped forward, and your heart did a peculiar flip in your chest. Eddard Stark—Ned, as you’d heard his friends call him—strode into the ring. He was tall and lean, his face serious and composed. You remembered him from the occasional visits to King’s Landing he made with his father, his quiet demeanor and the way he seemed slightly out of place amidst the opulence of the Red Keep. He was different from the other men who vied for your attention, and you found yourself strangely intrigued.

Ned inclined his head in a respectful nod, which you returned before settling into a defensive stance. His grey eyes narrowed, studying your form, and you wondered what he saw—a mysterious knight with no house sigil, or just another challenger to defeat.

The clash was swift and intense. He was cautious, methodical, his strikes precise, each one meant to test your defenses. You parried and dodged, feeling a thrill of excitement course through you. Here was a challenge, a true test of your skill.

But you were no green boy fresh from the training yard. You pressed forward, your sword a blur as you forced him back. His brow furrowed in concentration, but there was something else there too, a glint of admiration, perhaps? Or was it confusion?

You spun, your blade catching his in a perfect arc that sent his sword flying from his grasp. The crowd erupted in cheers, but you barely heard them, your gaze locked on his. Ned Stark, the quiet, solemn lordling of the North, stood disarmed before you, a look of disbelief on his face.

Slowly, you reached up and removed your helm, shaking out your hair as gasps rippled through the audience. The pendant around your neck caught the light, the tiny dragon glinting like fire.

“Seven hells,” Ned muttered, staring at you with wide eyes. You bit back a grin, enjoying his shock far too much.

The reaction from the royal box was immediate. Rhaegar shot to his feet, his expression a mix of horror and incredulity. “What in the name of the gods are you doing?” he shouted, his voice carrying over the stunned silence. “You could have been hurt!”

You shrugged, not bothering to hide the mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “But I wasn’t, dear brother.” You turned back to Ned, who was still gaping at you as if you’d sprouted wings. “Apologies, Lord Stark. I hope I didn’t bruise your pride too much.”

His lips twitched, the beginnings of a smile forming as he dipped his head. “I’ve never been bested by a… princess before.” There was something warm in his gaze now, something that made your stomach flutter. “You fight well.”

You felt a strange heat rise to your cheeks. “Thank you, my lord,” you said, surprised at the sudden shyness in your own voice. This wasn’t how you’d expected this encounter to go. Where was your usual confidence?

The murmurs from the crowd grew louder as people began to piece together what had happened. A princess—no, the king’s daughter—had fought in the lists, had bested some of the finest knights in the realm, and had unseated Eddard Stark. It was scandalous, outrageous, and thoroughly satisfying.

Rhaegar descended from the royal box, his long strides eating up the distance between you. “Father will have your head for this,” he murmured, but there was a glimmer of pride in his eyes, a secret smile that only you could see.

“Let him try,” you retorted, sheathing your sword with a flourish. “But perhaps he should consider that his daughter is not quite as helpless as he thinks.”

Rhaegar shook his head, exasperated, but he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You’re incorrigible,” he sighed, but his voice was soft, fond.

You turned back to Ned, who was still watching you with that same, curious expression. “Well, my lord,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Will you join me for a walk? Or are you too humiliated to be seen with the likes of me?”

His smile widened then, a rare, genuine smile that softened his features. “I think, Princess, that I’d be honored.” He offered his arm, and you took it, feeling the eyes of the entire court upon you as you walked away from the tourney grounds.

As you left, you caught Rhaegar’s bemused expression, the horrified looks of some of the other lords and ladies, and, from somewhere in the back, the sound of someone bursting into laughter. You couldn’t help but grin. Let them talk. You’d had your victory.

#game of thrones #got x you #got x y/n #got x reader #asoiaf x reader #asoiaf #asoif/got #a song of ice and fire #eddard stark #ned stark #ned x reader #ned x you #ned x y/n #eddard x reader #eddard x you #eddard x y/n

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cherr-22 · 1 year ago

Text

TNGDH 34

“For this reconnaissance, we will investigate further. With the new demonic beast’s appearance recently, we must be more careful.”

“Yes sir!”

The knights answered in unison. It was so loud that even I, who was leisurely enjoying a sunbathing session while lying on the sawdust, could hear it.

‘Already another reconnaissance.’

It has been about a month since the previous one.

―Squeak squeak. Squeak. (But why hasn’t he told me about going on this one?)

I rubbed my stomach after stuffing myself with the almond, macadamia, and strawberry that Kyle had brought. I must’ve gained more weight, because it was getting harder to breathe. Just a little bit.

Anyways, it would be a good idea to follow along this time too. If another accident occurs, it’d be good if I were there.

I crawled to a corner and just when I was about to use ‘Summon’―.

“Wait a moment.”

Kyle opened the door and came into the study.

I took back my hand from the system window and slid back to the center of the hamster house.

“Cashew.”

Kyle’s soft voice called for me. I pretended I wasn’t doing anything and made a gesture that said, “You’re here?”.

Then he lifted me up and naturally started kissing me.

―Squeak……. (Alright…….)

Of course. If he didn't do this, he wouldn’t be Kyle Blake.

I received his kiss and waved my hand in goodbye. Hurry up and leave.

Kyle only left after glancing back at me twice at the study door. I quickly used ‘Summon’ and wore my clothes.

Really! At this point, shouldn’t I be able to automatically wear clothes? This is so inefficient!

[(´。＿。｀)]

……I’m not saying it’s your fault. It’s not like we could do anything about it. I’m just complaining out loud…

I comforted the sullen system and walked down the hallway at a brisk pace. I diligently headed out of the castle, greeting the workers carrying laundry baskets and brooms along the way.

When I pushed the tightly closed door, a light so bright that it hurt my eyes poured in. I stepped outside, feeling the cool air surrounding me.

Now, Kyle. Take me with you. Look at this perfect timing I appear before you when you need me.

“Your Highness! ……Huh?”

I looked at the empty field in front of the castle with a dumbfounded face.

He’s not here.

There’s nothing here. Even though this is the front gate? Surely they would’ve reorganized their ranks here before going up the mountain?

I hurriedly searched the surrounding area. The flower beds, bushes, pillars… I looked closely everywhere, but I couldn’t find a single one of his familiar footprints.

“Just where exactly did you go!”

I shouted at the sky in frustration and a passing worker flinched.

“H-his Highness Kyle went to the back gate.”

“Yes?”

“He said someone fearless may try to follow him…….”

I stood in place with a dumbfounded expression. The employee, seeing my reaction, quickly bowed his head and disappeared.

Then, does this mean…….

“He’s avoiding me?”

I went back into the castle and thought for a while. There weren’t any other demonic beast specialists within the castle so why would he go without me?

No, I knew why even without having to think. It was because I fell off the cliff last time.

It must’ve been a shock to see the person he promised to protect to fall into danger right before his eyes. What if it happens again? Would I be able to grab onto him properly this time? I could imagine him worrying about it all night long.

Still.

“It’s only right to keep the person you want to protect by your side.”

As I trudged down the hallway, I felt an inexplicable sense of loneliness. I must’ve gotten used to spending my time with Kyle.

I wandered around for a while before arriving at the kitchen to eat two freshly made sandwiches, scones, and cookies with black tea and then returned to my room to cancel ‘Summon’.

―Squeak. (Sigh.)

I laid down and stared at the dark ceiling of the study room.

There was no time to get lost in sentiment. I spent the entire day walking around and thinking about Kyle, but my heart felt heavier than it did before.

‘……Why do I feel so heavy?’

I grunted as I turned over. However, I couldn’t get up. I was only able to stand after grasping the floor with my paws.

―Squeak squeak. (……Just how much weight did I gain?)

Now, I could no longer deny it. At this rate, I may become an obese hamster and would have to survive on just chicory and lettuce.

I suddenly felt a sense of crisis and started walking on the hamster wheel. And here I thought I’d never have to ride this horrendous thing again!

Alright. Let’s do some morning dieting.

To the point where Kyle will be so surprised upon seeing me again.

Reconnaissance usually takes about four to five days. They said they would go further this time, so it should take about a week. Today was the first day of the week.

During this time, I was quite busy as both a human and a hamster.

During my time as a hamster, I worked on my squishy belly by running on the hamster wheel, and when I was human, I helped around.

Mass production of the quilted clothes have begun, because they thought it would be good to distribute them to the residents of the territory. The remaining knights in the castle also spent their days hunting.

I, of course, helped with sewing and teaching the kitchen staff various other healthy recipes. The most delicious recipe was the one made with the fish beast.

There was a pond to the south of the castle that was frozen all year long, so people often went ice fishing and hunting there.

They would gather together and light a bonfire to have a feast.

The grilled fish grilled with an even coat of spice and sauce…… it was tastier than any other seafood I’ve eaten.

As a result, the people greatly enjoyed the fish. And best of all, the fish would break through the ice on their own if there were a lot of them.

Anyways, it was hectic and busy. Thanks to that, my Miracle Value went up to 24 percent. It was a huge increase despite Kyle not being here.

In other words.

‘The people here has accepted me.’

Although, I did benefit a bit from the ‘passive effect’ of gaining favor with the Northerners.

When I walk across the hallways in the castle, the workers greet me and the knights sometimes look for me with monsters they caught in their hands. When I go to the kitchen, I’m gifted with freshly baked bread and some cookies. Yesterday, I even received the tart that the youngest worker of the castle baked.

‘……But we are still a little awkward with each other.’

It was definitely not a bad feeling though.

I cleared my throat and glanced at the clock. It was ticking just past noon.

―Squeak squeak. Squeak squeak squeak. (Kyle, just when exactly is he going to come back? The weather is fine so he should be back pretty soon.)

While mumbling to myself, the system window blinked.

[(❤´艸｀❤)]

That’s not it. Don’t look at me like I’m a wife waiting for their husband to return home. We’re not in that sort of relationship.

I kicked the system window and it flashed again on the opposite side of me.

‘Ha?’

I frantically kicked hard at the moving system window. I was so absorbed that I didn’t even hear the study door open.

“So you also knew how to dance.”

A soft voice came from above my head.

I paused and turned my head up. Kyle was looking down at me with a very disheveled appearance.

“Sorry for being gone for so long. I rushed back, because I was worried about you, but it seems like I could’ve washed up first. I can’t hold you with my hands dirty like this.”

Kyle mumbled while holding his hands caked in dirt and blood. My eyes naturally went to his hands.

―Squeeeak! (Hey! What’s with your hands!)

I stuck myself to the transparent wall and squeaked towards Kyle.

Kyle must’ve thought I was glad to see him after a long time, so he looked at me sweetly and left the study, saying that he would come back soon.

I pounded my chest in frustration and used ‘Summon’.

It’s a good thing I didn’t use it earlier in the day today. How could I hold in after seeing him like that? I must take a closer look myself to see if the body I cherish has any injuries.

“I think right now is good.”

I hung around in front of Kyle’s room for a while before knocking the door. Then, I heard a voice from inside telling me to come in.

“Shu?”

Upon opening the door, I saw Kyle with a robe draped over his shoulders, drying his hair with a towel.

I quickly scanned him from head to toe. No injuries on his arms. Not a single scratch on his chest. He just looked a bit messy.

I sighed in relief and walked over to him.

“It took you a while this time.”

“I thought it would be good to go the longer route after encountering the new demonic beast before.”

“You didn’t tell me to go together this time.”

“There is no need for you to accompany me on every reconnaissance. Besides, didn’t you say you were busy?”

I crossed my arms and puffed. You could hide all you want, but I know you better than yourself.

“Not because you are afraid I might die?”

“…….”

Kyle stared at me silently. It seems I got it right.

I reached out and gently grabbed both ends of the towel covering Kyle’s head to help dry his hair. He obediently lowered his head to narrow the distance between me and him.

“Teach me how to use the bow tomorrow. I learn quickly, so it’ll be worthwhile for you to teach me.”

“…….”

Kyle’s brows narrowed, and then he relaxed with a short sigh.

As if he missed me for the week he was gone, he wrapped my waist with his strong arms and pulled me in. I entrusted myself to him. With his familiar body scent reaching the tip of my nose, I felt at ease.

I let go of the towel and placed my arms around his neck. I smiled as I heard him saying that he would teach me and that he’s glad to be back home.

--------------------------------------------------------

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im-a-wonderling · 9 months ago

Text

Rescue Me, Part 4 ~ Obi-Wan Kenobi

If I didn't have @writing-on-the-wahl's help, this part would've taken so much longer and would've been so much worse. As always, my friend, you are an angel, and I adore you.

Summary: Now a Jedi Knight with her own padawan, Y/N gets an individual mission unlike anything she's done before.

Warnings: Yeah, this one's dark, so bodily harm and mortal peril and possibly more?

Word count: 9.8k

Rescue Me masterlist | Main masterlist

“Why does the council want to see us?” Ghon asked, keeping up with my brisk pace as best he could in spite of his tiny stature. It likely looked comical, but none of the Jedi we passed gave us a second glance.

We’d landed on Coruscant not ten minutes before, and the waiting attendant had immediately informed us the Jedi Council was waiting.

The guilt of dulling my feelings for Ghon’s benefit weighed on my mind, but my padawan didn’t deserve to feel my anxiety as well as his own. Perhaps a day was coming where I would be able to stand in front of the council with confidence, but it wasn’t coming any time soon. “Likely to debrief us on our mission and brief us for the next one,” I replied, answering his question as calmly as I could.

Ghon frowned. “But we just got back!”

I didn’t bother admonishing him for the complaint, not when I was also weighed down with a fatigue that seeped through to my bones. There was very little time for rest since I’d become a Jedi Knight, and it was almost too much for me to handle at twenty-two years old. Ghon was only eleven.

“Such is the way of war,” I sighed as we stopped in front of the sliding doors. As we waited to be called in, I resisted the urge to smooth down my robes. My appearance did not matter. In fact, the more ruffled I appeared, the more humble I appeared.

The Force buzzed to my left, and I glanced at Ghon to see him chewing on his lip.

He’d barely qualified as a padawan, evident by his deep-seated need to please. He needed lots of encouragement, but he made it easy to give. Everything he needed to be doing, he was. If only he could believe it.

I reached out and tugged lightly on his braid, making him smile. I barely had time to drop my hand at my side again before the doors slid open.

Each face expectantly watching us featured grim expressions with worry lines. The tension in the room was palpable, and I knew it had everything to do with the war tearing the galaxy apart. Every Jedi felt it, the pain and death radiating off each planet, and there was no solace from it.

But the most depressing sight was the empty seat.

The seat which had been empty the day I cut off my own padawan braid with my lightsaber, and empty every time after. I knew better than to ask. Once in a while, a story drifted my way of some daring escapade, and I would know that my old master was still alive.

I couldn’t lament it, for it was as he said: this is what we were made for.

I bowed once I reached the center of the room. “Masters.”

“Congratulations on your success on Rodia,” Master Mundi said, mustering a smile. “Senator Farr thanked us on behalf of his people.”

Senator Farr, leader of the swampy, waterlogged planet of Rodia, reached out to the Republic to ask for aid after he defied the Trade Confederacy. The Republic obliged, sending relief aid in the form of supplies and a Jedi healer.

Me.

I inclined my head. “I was gratified to be of help.”

The Force rippled as the attention in the room shifted to the young man beside me. “And your padawan seems to be learning quickly,” Master Mundi added.

I opened my mouth to agree, but the words died.

The humming of a light.

Instantly, my insides were all aflutter. I hadn’t felt that light in months, and yet I could never mistake it. On every planet I’d been dispatched to, I searched for it and never found it. The sparse amount of times I’d been on Coruscant even, the light was nowhere to be found.

But now there was no mistaking it: the light was here. The sensation grew steadily, the source far too close to be anywhere farther than Coruscant's atmosphere.

I looked around at the council members to see if they’d felt it too, but none of their signatures seemed any different than they had before.

“Yes,” I cleared my throat, “he is eager and very intelligent. He was of great assistance on Rodia.”

“You picked your padawan well,” Master Fisto said, smiling at Ghon.

“That I’ve never doubted,” I managed to say in spite of the humming. Maybe they would think me arrogant for saying it, but I never wanted Ghon to feel he stood alone in front of the council.

Master Windu leaned forward, dousing me in the full weight of his skepticism that momentarily drowned out the humming, bracing his elbows on his knees. “How is Padawan Ghon’s learning going?” The light drew nearer, its humming filling my ears like the buzzing wings of a Grutchin. Ghon shifted beside me, reminding me of the question.

“All things considered, I couldn’t ask for more. I look forward to the day when he doesn’t have to learn during a war.”

“As do we all,” Master Mundi murmured.

The light grew louder still, loud enough for me to hear the exhaustion and anxiety within it, echoing the stress already present in the room.

“And what does your padawan think?” Master Windu asked.

Overwhelmed by the light as I was through the Force, I could still feel the flash of uncertainty fill the room and knew the council could feel Ghon’s reaction as strongly as I did.

“It’s been an honor to learn under Y/F/N Y/L/N.” He lifted his chin even as his hands shook slightly. “I’ve learned much.”

The light was shouting now, making it impossible to perceive anything else. “Well, it seems you’re a good teacher,” Master Ti's lips formed, his voice lost within the volume of the Force.

And then the humming cut off, beautiful silence caressing me. And into the silence came the words: “I should hope so.”

My breath caught in my throat. That voice. I could be dead and buried six feet under the ground and still recognize it. Still want to run towards it.

Slowly, with my heart hammering in my chest, I turned to look.

In the open doorway of the councilroom stood none other than Obi-Wan Kenobi.

His hair, neatly sheared, was far shorter. Instead of being combed back with the tips resting on his shoulders like normal, it laid on his head, making his forehead appear smaller. His beard, however, was fuller than before, giving his face a longer look. He too wore the worry lines every other master sported, far deeper than I'd last seen.

And yet with all the differences, his smile was the same as always.

I almost started to greet him with an “old man” and a smile, but stopped myself. This was no longer my master with whom I could joke around with. This was a master, a member of the Jedi council who was only to be treated with respect and formality. “Master Kenobi,” I said. The honorific felt strange coming off my tongue.

His face pinched, as if the formality of his title filled him with as much strangeness as it did me.

“Ahhh, Kenobi,” Master Windu sounded about as pleased as he ever did, which wasn’t saying much. “Join us.”

Master Kenobi glanced over my shoulder at Master Windu and gave a quick nod, before brushing past me to sit in the empty seat. Remembering myself, I bowed respectfully, and Ghon followed suit as Master Kenobi settled into his seat.

“As it happens,” Mace Windu said, drawing my attention, “we have your next mission.”

Ghon straightened. “Are we going back to Rodia?”

“Appreciate the enthusiasm, we do, Padawan Ghon,” Yoda said, chuckling. “But a mission for your master alone, this is.”

A mission of my own? If it was too dangerous for my padawan, was I capable of it myself? Ghon looked at me, the uncertainty lining his features reflecting what I felt in my gut. “There’ll be stuff for you to do,” I assured him in spite of my misgivings.

“I think Master Yoda could use some help with the younglings,” Master Fisto said kindly. “Until then, you can get food and perhaps some sleep.”

Ghon didn’t move.

I nudged him, and he reluctantly bowed to the masters and left the council room.

As soon as the doors shut, I turned back to Master Yoda. “What’s the mission?”

“To go undercover, you are.”

Surprise bloomed in my chest, but I remained silent, trusting the council to elaborate and alleviate my confusion.

Master Koon leaned forward in his chair. “We’ve received intel of a Separatist trader that spends his evenings in one of the clubs here. We want you to meet him there for some business.”

“I don’t have any experience with undercover work,” I said slowly, taking great care to sound confused and not defiant.

“Experience you have not,” Master Yoda agreed. “Skills you do.”

“We would not have chosen you unless you were the best fit for the job.” Master Windu’s tone left no room for argument. “The Republic is running low on PLX-1 and PLX-4 missile launchers. We want you to make a deal with this trader.”

What?

Paying for weapons? From a Separatist?

This was not the kind of mission I’d expected. Master Windu continued, talking of the money I was to offer and how many launchers I was to ask for. I kept my eyes on him, but I shifted my focus to the no-longer-empty seat.

The turbulent light of Master Kenobi��s Force signature only made me more wary.

“Conflicted you are,” Master Yoda said, drawing my attention. “Unsure of the mission’s integrity, hmmm?”

“It feels odd,” I said slowly, “to be a peacekeeper and be dealing weapons. Wouldn’t it be better if one of the senators met with this buyer?”

The light shifted slightly, a little more desperate than before.

“We believe this buyer would prefer a transaction off the record,” Master Windu said. “We’ve also received intel that he prefers human women of a certain…physique.”

Discomfort roiled in my gut like acid. The council was giving me this mission because of my physique? “How dangerous is this man?” I asked carefully, and the light flickered.

Master Windu’s impassive face did not inspire any confidence. “We have no reason to believe there’s any additional danger in this mission than any other.” Considering a significant amount of my missions involved outright combat, that wasn’t as reassuring as he likely meant it. Or perhaps he did not intend to comfort me at all.

But Jedi were called to obey, regardless of and even in spite of comfort.

“Wherever I’m needed,” I said slowly, meeting Master Yoda’s gaze, “I will go.”

The light flickered again, but I kept my attention on Master Yoda, who did not react. Master Windu sat back in his seat. “Then you are dismissed.”

I bowed and left the council room, mind buzzing.

Ghon leaned against a wall outside the council room, eyes half-closed with exhaustion. He needed to sleep, and yet he was waiting for me. This would be our first time since becoming Padawan and Master that we would be separated. There was bound to be some strain.

He stood straight when he saw me.

I reached out to rest my hands on his shoulders. “It’ll be okay,” I said softly. “My mission won’t take very long, and then we’ll likely be off to the Outer Rim again.”

Ghon did not look comforted. “What will I do if it takes longer?”

“There’s plenty to be learned right here,” I told him. “You can meditate, and there’s plenty of people for you to practice your swordplay with.”

“But what if…it takes longer than that?”

I watched him, feeling the waves of anxiety pouring off of him and realizing it wasn’t just anxiety at being separated. “I will be alright, Ghon. You don’t have to fear for my safety.” I smiled comfortingly at him.

“Don’t worry about your master, young one.” The comfort infused into the familiar voice made my eyes flutter shut. Opening them quickly, I turned to see the council all filing out of the councilroom. And strolling towards us was Master Kenobi, smiling kindly at my padawan as he said: “She can take care of herself.”

Ghon bowed in respect, but did not say anything.

There was a silence where I felt Master Kenobi’s eyes on me, where I watched Ghon…who was gazing at Master Kenobi. My padawan heard his fair share of stories about Master Kenobi, and not just from me either. The awe radiating from him was justified.

“Master Kenobi,” I stood behind Ghon, my hands on his shoulders, “this is my padawan, Ghon Laster.”

A strangely fond smile on his face, Master Kenobi held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

I couldn’t see Ghon’s face, but I could feel his shyness as he shook Master Kenobi’s hand. “Pleased to meet you,” he echoed, likely not knowing what else to say.

“I can sense your worry.” Master Kenobi’s eyes flicked up to mine before returning to the young man. “It’s natural to feel such things, but trust in the Force. It will look out for your master the same as it does for me or you.”

It wasn’t just my own apprehension that eased. Even if I couldn’t feel Ghon’s feelings through the Force, the slump of his shoulders made his relief clear.

“Ghon, why don’t you go rest before joining Master Yoda with the younglings?” I said. “We didn’t get much sleep last night, and this is your chance to get some.”

“Yes, Master,” Ghon said, bowing his head towards Master Kenobi before walking off in the direction of his quarters.

My eyes lingered down the corridor even after he was gone from it. Look at him, I told myself sternly. Acknowledge him. I managed to turn my head, but somehow, my gaze lowered. Why? It wasn’t as if the floor was particularly interesting.

“Knight Y/L/N.”

I could tell from Master Kenobi’s tone that it wasn’t a goodbye. He was waiting to talk to me. Steeling myself, I finally looked up at my old master.

He tilted his head. “I haven’t seen you in months.”

“Yes, well, the council keeps me busy.” I flashed him a tentative smile.

“We have a knack for doing that,” he replied loftily, but the jovial look in his eye told me his pretention was teasing.

I fished around for a snippy reply, but it didn’t leap into my mind as it used to, the rules of our engagement covered in dust. I realized that the awkward silence had returned, and yet it was too late for me to reply to his snark.

What could I say? What was I allowed to ask?

“I was about to go to the gardens to meditate,” Master Kenobi said before I could figure out whether to extend or end the conversation. “Would you…care to join me?”

The light flickered. Was he…uncertain? What could he be uncertain of? “I would appreciate a chance to meditate with my old master.” I smiled at him, and the light steadied. Master Kenobi gestured down the hallway. We started walking together, taking every stride together with such ease, neither one having to adjust their pace for the other.

The Jedi Temple gardens were one of the only green places on the planet of Coruscant, and it took a lot of work to keep up. But having a space where a Jedi could reconnect to the Force through plants, the most innocent of living things, was worth it.

“I must say,” Master Kenobi finally said as we reached the courtyard, “I’m curious.”

“About what?”

Master Kenobi clasped his hands behind his back. “I…hear stories.”

“What kind of stories?” I replied, reaching out to brush my fingers against a leaf.

“Stories about my wayward padawan.”

I pursed my lips to keep from smiling. To some, it’d be insulting to be called padawan once they’d ascended to being a knight, but being Master Kenobi’s padawan was always a good thing to me. “Oh?” I asked vaguely, even though I could probably guess some of what he’d heard. “What do they say?”

“Well,” Master Kenobi ran a hand over his beard, “they say you fought a whole pack of Nexu on Cholganna.”

“Grossly exaggerated,” I said lightly. “I only fought three.”

Master Kenobi snorted, and I felt suddenly too warm for my cloak as I grinned back at him. “And your run-in with Aurra Sing? I suppose the two of you didn’t actually resort to fisticuffs?”

“Well,” I lifted my chin, “that’s true, but she was asking for it."

“No doubt you were also.”

“Just the opposite,” I replied. “I was trying to heal one of her coworkers, but some people just won’t be told.”

Master Kenobi’s merry laughter filled the hall, and I couldn’t help smiling at him. Was it possible that our old normal could return so quickly? Just as I thought the thought, his smile faded. “I also heard you lost part of your hearing in one ear.”

Had he truly been keeping such close tabs on me to know about my hearing? I nodded, solemn. “An explosion on Bora Vio.” I swallowed, looking down at the leaf as I remembered the pain of the blast. “I’m lucky a bit of my hearing is all I lost. Not even the best of us can make it through a war unscathed.” I glanced up to see Master Kenobi smiling down at me in a way that reminded me of our past. “Unless, perhaps, you’re Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Master Kenobi’s face fell. “I’m far from unscathed.”

Panic flared in my stomach. “Is everything alright? Are you injured?”

“I’m quite well,” Master Kenobi assured me. I instinctively reached out with the Force, searching for any sign of pain or damage. Master Kenobi raised his eyebrows. “I see the healer training has paid off?”

My cheeks warmed as I quickly withdrew the Force. “Yes…it has. Vokara Che has been a wonderful instructor.”

“Well?” Master Kenobi turned, holding out his hands. “What’s the verdict?”

I gave him a sideways look. His light seemed brighter than it’d been when first I sensed it before he joined the council meeting. The exhaustion was still there, as was the fear, but somehow the light gave off more warmth than before. “You’re not injured,” I replied, the only thing I was sure of.

“As I assured you.”

We reached the center of the courtyard, which was a plain yet polished marble circle. Master Kenobi sat down, and I sat across from him. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply.

The awareness started with myself.

Then it crept along the floor around me, the radius spreading until I was aware of the dozens of lives around me. Plants. Creatures. Jedi. I could sense the movement of the transits and speeders, carting people around this planet bursting with life.

But none of it compared to the light that sat directly in front of me.

Truly, I’d never felt anything more vibrant or mighty through the Force than Master Kenobi’s signature. If he ever happened to step foot on one of the dark planets like Dagobah or Mustafar, I was certain the planets would have a historic appearance of sunshine.

Somewhere deep within me, there was a pull towards that light. Was it in my stomach? Or in my chest? Or perhaps even my head?

I couldn’t tell, but the Force seemed to sort of gather in between myself and the light, growing more and more dense.

Then a sharp tug came from nowhere, and because I was so in tune, I couldn’t stop it.

My head jerked forward, only to collide with something so hard, I saw stars. “Ouch!” I blurted, opening my eyes and rubbing my smarting forehead.

Master Kenobi mirrored me. “What in the blazes?” he muttered.

“I don’t know,” I replied. I hadn’t leaned close enough to invade Master Kenobi’s space, unless…he leaned too?

With my eyes open, I couldn’t see the strange collection of the Force anymore, but I could’ve sworn I felt the Force laughing, and if I could feel it, Master Kenobi could feel it too. From the looks of him, he didn’t understand it any more than I did.

The comm at my wrist dinged, and Master Windu’s voice filtered through.

“Knight Y/L/N, the attendant has arrived to dress you for your mission tonight.”

Head still aching, I pressed the button on the comm. “I’m on my way.” I gave Master Kenobi a quick, apologetic smile as I started to get to my feet. “Duty calls.”

“I’ll see you tonight then.”

I froze, paused in a sort of awkward crouch. “Tonight?” I echoed.

Master Kenobi’s mysterious smile filled me with the feeling I stood at the edge of a cliff. “I volunteered to be your backup for the mission.”

“The council agreed to this?” I asked for the millionth time as I looked at my reflection.

“Yes, ma’am.” The attendant didn’t falter in her…attending.

Truthfully, I couldn’t explain what she was doing. She whirled around with brushes and bottles and sparkly adornments. Every movement she made directly correlated to my reflection morphing from a humble Jedi Knight to a midnight woman of decadence.

The deep blue velvet dress clung so tightly to my body, I felt like it was strangling me. Draped over me were strands of precious stones of white, blue, and silver that caught the light every time I breathed. A matching hairpiece rested in my elaborate hairdo. The white, translucent gloves the attendant helped me put on helped me cope with how bare I felt, but the feeling of air against my collarbones and my back made me periodically shiver.

I’d never had this much of my skin exposed, nor the outlines of my body so easily made out. As the attendant had told me, the council approved, but I didn’t know if they’d seen the dress and approved it. Somehow, the idea of them all discussing the garment I was now wearing made me more uncomfortable in it than before and even more uncomfortable than when Master Windu commented on my Separatist-buyer-pleasing physique.

And yet, strangely, as my appearance distanced me from the Jedi Code, the Force remained steady. It was comforting to know the Force could recognize me in spite of the sudden splendor.

I might've looked like someone else entirely, but I was still me inside.

The brush strokes on my lips ceased, and the attendant stepped back to study my reflection in the mirror. “You look perfect,” she said with great satisfaction, closing her trunk of paints and jewelry.

I wanted to argue, but what did I know about such things? I rose from the chair and nearly toppled over, reaching out to steady myself. “How do I walk in this?” I grumbled, shuffling forward.

“Gracefully,” the attendant replied. “Here are your shoes.”

My eyes widened as she held up the platforms.

I stood nervously at the top of the stairs, looking down at the distance I somehow had to cover. I had a sinking feeling that these platforms made stairs dangerous, but there was no other way down.

Lifting the skirts up enough to be able to see my feet, I stepped down, not looking away from the floor. I knew the moment I lifted my gaze, I would trip and ruin the attendant’s hard work as well as breaking my neck.

Only halfway down the stairs, the Force shifted around me, as if it were parting for someone’s gaze. I stopped where I was and looked up.

Master Kenobi stood at the bottom of the stairs now, gazing up at me with an odd expression on his face. His expression resembled Ghon’s whenever I tried to explain that a visible lightsaber could be perceived as a threat to non-Jedi.

“I know, it’s strange,” I said, redirecting my gaze downward to resume my treacherous descent. “I don’t even look like myself.”

“No,” Master Kenobi slowly said as I finally reached the bottom of the stairs, free to look up again. “No, you don’t.”

I nodded, pleased that he agreed. But when I opened my mouth to say something along those lines, I noticed how Master Kenobi’s eyes seemed to linger on the necklace around my throat. I lifted a hand to make sure it was still in place. “Blinding, isn’t it?”

“It certainly…demands…attention.” Master Kenobi cleared his throat, meeting my eyes. “The buyer will be pleased.”

I cast about for something to say in response, suddenly feeling my cheeks warm. “Hopefully Master Windu was correct about the type of company this buyer prefers.”

Master Kenobi’s face didn’t change, but the light took on a slight yet sickening green tint. He stepped to my side, turning to gesture down the street. “Shall we?”

“We’re walking?” I glanced towards the path and the great yawning distance before us.

“Is that a problem?” Master Kenobi asked.

I looked down at my shoes. I’d never walked long distances with them before. Surely it wouldn’t be an issue, even if I had to take smaller steps than I was used to.

Quickly, I was proven wrong.

I was moving slower than a Hutt, and it only took maybe twenty steps in the ridiculous shoes before my feet started to hurt.

Night was falling in Coruscant, and the bustling nightlife didn’t seem to take much notice of a beautiful woman walking beside a Jedi Master. I envied Master Kenobi for being able to remain in his normal attire, but I supposed he wasn’t the one executing the mission.

I opened my mouth, ready to ask Master Kenobi where he would be while I was in the club, but just then, my ankle wobbled. I flung my arms out to catch my balance.

Unfortunately, the jerky movement sent my elbow flying into Master Kenobi’s gut.

“Oof!” he grunted, his hands coming up to grab my arm, helping me stay on my feet even through his pain.

“Sorry!” I said quickly.

Instead of falling away, his calloused hands gently moved up my arm, offering me aid in my balance and offering something else entirely. “Here,” he said lightly. “Lean on me.”

We walked the rest of the way with my arm tucked into the crook of his elbow.

With his aid, it was much easier to stay on my own feet, and I wished we could’ve walked the whole way arm in arm. Strange how being with him made me feel like a padawan again, as if with him, I had the option to not be strong. It felt almost like a luxury.

Master Kenobi stopped me when we were two blocks away from the club. “Here.” He dropped a comm into my hand. “I’ll stay here, out of sight.”

The sudden reminder of the situation made my chest tighten. I swore off all luxuries when I became a Jedi. It was time to be the Knight I’d been trained to be, the Knight Master Kenobi trained me to be. I squared my shoulders, gave a short nod, and then made the rest of the trip on my own.

The novelty of my midnight dress had worn off. The cocoon of soft fabric against my skin felt wrong, and I missed the telltale scrape of my roughspun tunic against my skin. This self-serving grandeur wasn’t in line with the vows I’d taken. As I glanced around at the expensively clad bodies and breathed the air rank with alcohol, all I wanted was to be back in the temple.

Back in the garden.

Master Kenobi wasn’t my only back-up. Alateen, a Rodian male I'd first met on his home planet, stood behind the counter. He also had a comm linked to Master Kenobi, and it was him that supplied me with the blue-tinted, tasteless and non-alcoholic drinks that matched with liquid sloshing around in the glasses of everyone around me. While drinking wasn’t expressly against the Jedi Code, I needed all my wits about me tonight.

“When was the senator supposed to get here?” I asked, lifting my glass to my lips to hide their movements.

“Fifteen minutes ago.”

I could tell from the edge to Master Kenobi’s serious voice that he was approaching no insignificant levels of stress.

I set the glass down, lifting my hand to delicately brush at invisible drops on my lips. “How long are we going to wait for their appearance?”

“At least a little longer.”

“You’re lucky,” I grumbled. “You can’t hear all the clammer and clatter.” The dull roar of music, conversation, and laughter was overwhelming. Master Kenobi couldn’t hear any of it and as a result wouldn’t have a raging headache later.

I missed the calm of the temple garden, meditating in silence, feeling the Force all around me. This place was so crowded, I barely felt like I had room to exist.

A Vurk male stumbled against my table, hitting it with such force, my drink toppled over, dumping half the contents onto my lap. “Ugh!” I grunted.

“What’s wrong?” The immediacy with which Master Kenobi’s voice came through the comm made me smile softly.

“It’s okay.” I grabbed the cloth napkin and started wiping up the liquid. “Someone just knocked over my drink.”

“Do you want me to tell Alateen that you need another one?”

The Rodian male was leaning over the counter, talking very animatedly with a grinning Twi’lek female. “I think he’s otherwise engaged.”

“I’ll tell him,” Master Kenobi said gruffly.

“No, don’t.” I sighed, tossing the wet napkin onto the table. “There’s no point in having back-up if–”

“Well hello.”

That voice...the voice from many a nightmare I’d had in the past few months.

I jumped to my feet, whipping around to face the speaker. My heart kicked up into a ratchet pace, making me breathless. I stared into the soulless eyes I’d dreaded seeing since the first time I looked into them.

“Dooku,” I whispered in horror.

“WHAT?!” Master Kenobi shouted into my comm.

Dooku’s hand shot forward, clenching my wrist before my fingers could graze the knife I had concealed. “Don’t say a word, or my agent will kill yours.” I glanced over at Alateen and noticed, for the first time, the way the Twi’lek’s hand lingered over the blaster strapped to her thigh.

“Y/N?” Master Kenobi’s voice asked. “Y/N, what’s going on?” I remained silent, staring at Dooku.“Talk to me! Where do you see Dooku?”

Dooku let go of my hand and pulled out my chair, a gentlemanly action to all those watching, but I wasn’t fooled. Alateen’s life depended on my cooperation.

“Can you hear me?!”

I did my best to ignore his voice as I sat. Dooku took a seat across from me, looking as stiff and yet put together as he did while standing.

“I’m on my way, Y/N, just tell me if you’re alright!”

Dooku slid my drink across the table towards me. “Pull out your comm. Drop it in.”

“Y/N!”

My head urged me to obey Dooku, but my heart shouted back, begging me to say something to Master Kenobi. Dooku lifted his hand to his own ear. “Stoma, Y/N needs convincing.”

My eyes darted over to the Twi’lek, who gripped her blaster with her hand out of Alateen’s sight.

“No!” I burst out before clapping a hand over my mouth.

“Y/N, are you hurt?! Tell me–”

I yanked the comm out of my ear and dropped it into my drink. “I’m sorry, okay? Call off your agent.”

Dooku rested his hand on the table, palm down. A miniature countdown projected above his hand where a small black gadget rested. “In a moment, you’re going to stand up and follow me into the backroom.”

“Where are we going?”

Dooku fixed me with a look and said nothing.

“What do you want with me?”

No reply.

“What about Alateen?” I asked. “If you hurt him–”

“Obey me and he won’t come to any unnecessary harm.”

“Unnecessary?” I asked, eyeing the numbers above his wrist. I had less than ten seconds left.

“One has to make sure your agent isn’t in a state to follow us.”

He’d thought this through. Everything had been accounted for.

My heart sank. This was a trap, and I was already caught in it because all I could do was watch as the time counted down.

Three.

Two.

O-

With a loud boom, smoke filled the club. Screams reached my ears as the smoke made my eyes burn enough to make tears well up. Before I could reach up to rub at them, Count Dooku had firmly grasped my upper arm, leading me towards the bar. He didn’t drag me. He didn’t need to.

I reached out with the Force and immediately felt Alateen’s beating heart. With a bit of exertion, I could feel his unharmed body. He was unconscious, but so far, Dooku was telling the truth.

My platformed foot ran into the doorway Dooku pulled me through, making me trip, but his death grip on my arm kept me upright. Once we were through, I turned to ask Dooku what was next.

Before I could, I felt his hand on my shoulder and a sharp prick in my neck.

The last thing I remembered before my vision went black was the floor rushing to meet me as my knees buckled.

My head pounded.

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter against the pain, but it didn’t lessen.

As more awareness returned to me, I noticed the strange, aching position of my shoulders. I tried to shift, but I couldn’t move more than an inch. What was happening?

“You’re awake.”

I jolted, my eyes flying open as I tried to step back.

And didn’t get very far.

My heart sank as I looked up at the reflective surface of the metal chains which trailed from the ceiling and bound my wrists, keeping them aloft above my head. I looked down to see the dress, the jewelry, the gloves, and the sparkling strands of stones were gone, leaving me only in undershorts and a thin undertunic that I definitely hadn’t been wearing under the dress. My bare feet were freezing against the floor. I studied the wall in front of me, which seemed made of stone, but not smooth stone. It felt like the room was a cave, reinforced by the only source of light in the room being the open doorway behind me.

And when I twisted my neck, straining against the chains to give myself room to look, a figure stood in the doorway. Based on the silhouette, which was all I could make out, it could’ve been anybody.

But I could feel that same signature I’d felt before and knew exactly who it was.

Where were we? How long had it been since he’d knocked me unconscious in the club? Why had he taken me?

“What do you want with me?” I asked. He wasn’t the Jedi council; it didn’t matter if he judged me for asking questions. Dooku didn’t answer, and I felt nothing shift in his emotions. Either my questions didn’t matter to him or he was shielding himself completely.

He seemed to be in no rush. He just stood behind me, watching me. I could feel the weight of his gaze on my face. The weight turned into a distinct probing through the Force.

I let him probe away.

I wasn’t going to resort to Sith techniques.

Dooku walked slowly around, his face now illuminated in the light. “Apologies for the crude bonds. This planet doesn’t like technology, so we had to be a bit primitive.”

We were on a planet with high moisture then. Or perhaps a heavy gravitational pull?

“It’s high moisture,” said Dooku, making me pause. He was tapping into my thoughts. I stiffened, turning away from him, as if it were my face he gleaned the information from, not the Force. Why couldn’t he just hurry up and tell me what was going on?

The probing increased.

“Do you think I can’t feel you?” I asked.

“Why aren’t you stopping me?” Dooku asked. He stepped closer. “Push me out.”

I settled my gaze on him. So this was his game. He wanted to bully me into using a Sith technique. “No.”

A sharp searing pain shot through my head, and I sucked in a breath. As quickly as it came, it left. I’d only felt something like it once before.

“You felt me,” I blurted out. “On Taris. When I meditated, you found my signature and you cut me off.”

Dooku’s face remained impassive. “I assumed you were Kenobi.”

How was that possible? Dooku said himself that I had darkness in my signature, and Master Kenobi’s signature was like pure light.

The pain lanced through my head again, cutting off my train of thought. “Push me out.”

“No.”

The pain was worse this time, enough to make a strangled groan leave my lips.

“Ahhh,” Dooku said. “I had a feeling Kenobi wouldn’t let you do such a mission on your own.”

I jerked my head up at him, feeling suddenly as though I were going to throw up. “What are you doing?”

"Imagine what he must've felt, storming into that establishment, only to find you were already gone." Dooku clasped his hands behind his back. “A worthy opponent is no good if there's no one to fight."

“If you wanted to fight Master Kenobi, you should’ve stayed on Coruscant.”

“And fight on his home turf?”

“I never took you for a coward,” I replied.

“Only a fool would fight a battle he does not need to.” The probing resumed, and Dooku tilted his head. “You have a padawan waiting for you on Coruscant, do you?”

My shields were half up before I even realized it. I forced them down.

“He’s quite attached, is he not? The council doesn’t like that.”

I kept my shields open, silently apologizing to my padawan for putting him in danger. I could only hope that I returned to him in time to keep him safe.

“He’s young. Impressionable.”

An image formed in my mind, an image I hadn’t created, of an older Ghon dressed in black, wielding a red lightsaber.

“Stop that!” I blurted.

“Do it yourself,” he replied. “Push me out.” I shook my head.

This time, the strike of pain spread down through my neck and into my chest and lingered longer. I let out a pained hiss as my heart contracted painfully under the strain. “What do you want from me?” I cried out in desperation.

“I want you to be the Jedi your master raised you to be!” Dooku thundered back.

I blinked at him, not understanding. Why would he want me to be more like Master Kenobi? Why would he want me to be more of a worthy opponent when he already had me where he wanted me?

Then it clicked.

Pong Krell.

Of course.

Because everything always came back to him.

Master Kenobi was right on Taris; the attention Count Dooku was giving me stemmed from both of my masters. I looked at Dooku with new eyes. “You set a trap for me.” The ripple of darkness told me I was right. “You planted the information about the buyer and the type of women the buyer liked. You knew the council would send me.” They’d unknowingly delivered me right to him, gift-wrapped in a midnight blue dress.

Not even a hint of a victorious smile lingered on Dooku’s face. He didn’t revel. He only fixed me with a determined look. “Show me you’re Pong Krell’s padawan.”

I released a long breath. “No. Because I am the Jedi my true master raised me to be. And I will remain that Jedi until the bitter end.”

The pain reached all the way down to my hips this time.

Again and again, Dooku repeated his command.

Again and again, I refused.

Each time, the pain increased. When my body started to shake, rattling the chains above my head, I stopped keeping count.

There seemed to be no pattern to Dooku’s appearances.

Now, whenever I refused him, I felt the pain from my head to my toes, and I was sure that every visit, the pain increased. Dooku didn’t seem amused by the pain nor did he seem to enjoy inflicting it. He was dogged in his pursuit of getting me to push him out.

Every time I almost broke, I thought of Master Kenobi, who’d hidden himself from the Force on Taris to protect me and wondered if I was endangering Ghon by not shielding.

But I’d worked so hard to undo what Krell had done. How could I revert right back to it?

“No one’s coming to rescue you,” Dooku said during one of his visits. “You can feel the council’s doubt, don’t you? They see Krell in you just like I do, only they see it as a weakness.”

“That is their responsibility,” I’d replied. “Mine is to be the best Jedi I can be.”

The pain was horrid…but being left alone in the darkness was worse, because with the darkness came the scratching sounds.

There must’ve been some kind of rodent in my cell that came out in the dark because I never heard the scratching sounds when Dooku was there. That or I was starting to hallucinate. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched a conclusion; my hands were starting to shake from lack of food, and there was an unswallowable pain in my throat from lack of water. Three times since I’d woken up the first time in this cell, a human male brought me enough water to sate my thirst. Once he even brought some rations. When I tried to ask questions, he just stared at me and did not answer.

I had no way of knowing if Dooku sent him or if he was defying Dooku to help me. Either way, the food was only enough to remind me just how close I was to starving.

Unfortunately, even if my hands were free and a Jedi healer could heal themselves, hunger couldn’t be healed. I’d treated enough starving citizens throughout the Clone Wars to know that.

As I listened to the horrible scratching sounds, I wondered if I would ever get the chance to heal someone again.

My head lolled back, and I stared up into the darkness where the ceiling was supposed to be.

Dooku had been more forceful this time. Perhaps he hadn’t expected me to hold on so long, however long I’d been here.

I had no way of knowing how much time had passed. There was no window for me to see day or night passing. If Dooku came into the cell once a day, it’d been a least a week since I was taken, but I had no way of knowing for sure. Perhaps he came twice a day. Or even every hour. Every period alone in the dark felt like ages.

The longer I spent in this cell, the more my hopes of being rescued dwindled. If I was simply a hostage, I would’ve been returned or killed by now. If the council were organizing a rescue, would it have taken this long?

I was certain that the remainder of my days would be spent in this cell. I wished I felt the peace of the Force, but I could only feel the trickles of desperation Dooku clearly wanted me to feel. When would this end? Would it end with Dooku’s lightsaber buried in my gut? Or would it end with my body surrendering my spirit?

My head lulled forward, breaking me out of my light sleep. I groaned as I lifted it to stretch it out. Now my neck ached as much as the rest of my upper body, but I still didn’t have the effort to hold it up. I could only rest it on one of my shoulders. It was freezing, but my body was too tired to shiver.

Today was surely it.

I could feel the Force in me going out like the ocean tides of Pabu, as if it were preparing me to leave myself and unite with it once more.

As Jedi, we strived for the peace that came with the acceptance of death, and yet facing the prospect of my own was only wearying.

Had the council told Ghon of my capture? Probably, considering my mission was only supposed to last for an evening. Stars, I hoped that whoever told Ghon did so gently, for it was a heavy burden for any padawan to bear, and he was so young.

Well, my second master had far exceeded my first one. Maybe Ghon would get lucky in that way too.

The sound of the door behind me scraping open reached my ears, and even with my eyes closed, the light of the open doorway was blinding.

“Y/N.”

The sound was far away, yet I shrank from it, expecting the pain that swiftly followed any sound.

“Y/N.”

I knew that voice. My eyes fluttered, but it hurt too badly to keep them open. Something tugged on the chain holding my left arm up, and I let out a whimper as it pulled on my desperately sore muscles.

“Y/N, it’s Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan.

Not Master Kenobi.

Obi-Wan.

“Obi…” My scratchy voice sounded like nothing I’d heard before.

“Shhhhh, save your strength, it’s alright, I’m here.”

I peeled my eyes open again, fighting the drag long enough to catch sight of the deeply concerned features of my favorite face in the galaxy.

My eyes fell shut again.

My body and mind had officially given up if they were conjuring such a welcome sight as Obi-Wan. Yet the impossible granted me an inkling of peace. Thank you, I said to the Force. For letting me say goodbye before taking me. I tilted my chin down to the ground, ready to give up.

The door scraped shut, throwing me back into darkness. Fingers tilted my chin up once more. “Open your eyes,” said my master’s voice. Instead of his voice getting further and further away, it was getting louder.

Confusion swirled, giving me enough strength to obey. I blinked but there was only darkness again. “I’m getting you out of here.”

Was this…could it be…?

My hopes rose.

“Darling, you have to hide your feelings,” Obi-Wan’s voice hissed.

The hopes fell dead, dashed against the rocks of reality.

I’d never once known Obi-Wan to call someone by a pet name.

This was another trick, a new strategy of Dooku’s to get me to comply. How cruel, to take advantage of my failing mind to summon the image of my master, the very man I would never be able to resist.

But resist I did.

If I’d made this far, I couldn’t cave now, not when the peace of death was so near.

“Y/N,” said the equally blessed and cursed voice. “Please, you have to hide yourself or he’ll find us.”

No. That’s not what Jedi did.

“I know, I can feel your hesitance, but if we’re going to get out of here, you have to.” The sound of his pleading voice was far worse than any other pain Dooku had inflicted on me. I felt a mouth hovering by my ear. “Y/N, if I ever earned your trust, listen to me now. You have to raise your shields.” Even the graze of his beard against my cheek felt real, dwarfed only by the wave of despair crashing over me. “C’mon, honey, do it for me.”

I let out a whimper, knowing there was only one way to make this vision stop.

I’m sorry, I thought miserably, I can’t take anymore. I squeezed my already shut eyes tighter, shrinking away from the Force and waiting for the cruel vision to fade.

It was like losing one of my arms. Or cutting off a friend. Or falling with no hope of ever hitting ground.

It’d been only seconds of separation, but my body was colder, weaker, and hurting more and more every second. How had I survived cutting myself off from the Force under Krell?

I didn’t like it.

I didn’t like it at all.

But the fingers kept stroking my cheek. “That’s it, that’s it.”

Why was the vision still here? Dooku could only project it through the Force, and I’d pulled away from it. The vision should’ve faded, which meant…

My eyes flew open, and I wished more than ever that there was light so I could see my master. I tried to say his name, but my voice failed.

The finger underneath my chin disappeared, and once again, there was a tug at my bindings. A strained whimper broke through my lips. “I know, I know it hurts, but I have to get you out–” He froze and then whispered under his breath: “Hells, he’s coming.”

Before I could muster up any thoughts or movements, all of Obi-Wan’s touch disappeared. I struggled against my restraints, the despair returning. There was a tiny, invisible caress on my cheek. “I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m here, but you have to shut yourself off.”

I hadn’t realized, in my panic, I’d reconnected with the Force.

I had barely enough time to lift my mental shields before the door scraped open again.

“Oh,” Dooku said from his place in the doorway. “Today is the day, then?” I heard the silent scraping of Dooku’s boot against the floor, drawing nearer and nearer. “Today,” he murmured, his voice far too close for comfort, “today, you give in.”

I managed to lift my head to see his keen eyes watching me.

I wanted to hurl a statement at him or even spit on the dungeon floor. I wanted to show him defiance, to tell him that he didn’t get to revel in my pain. But there was none left in me. I didn’t even have the energy to speak. I simply lowered my head again, shutting my eyes, hoping his visit would be quick today.

“You know you can’t live much longer.” His boots walked slowly around me. “Are you trying to die privately?” he asked. “Or are you trying to protect Kenobi from feeling the moment your life ends?”

I didn’t answer, even as my heart twinged in my chest.

There was a pause as the sound of his boots finished his rotation. He didn’t speak the words, but I felt the hidden message: join me.

My lips parted as I mustered all my strength. “I'm...” The word sounded no louder than a gentle breeze. “I'm a Jedi."

Dooku pushed his face close. “Jedi don’t shield themselves from the Force,” he said. “You’ve already given in. And for your submission, I think it’s time you got some food.”

Guilt stabbed at my gut, and I was not comforted by the fact that Dooku couldn’t feel it.

Dooku walked out of the room, the door sliding shut.

Obi-Wan, wherever he was hiding, let out a long breath of relief.

My body couldn’t even flinch at the blinding blue light that suddenly flashed through the chamber, nor at the screech of the chains as Obi-Wan’s lightsaber cut clean through them.

For the first time in I didn’t know how long, my arms lowered past my shoulders. Unable to do anything, I collapsed, closing my eyes in preparation for hitting the floor.

Instead of cool stone, however, my shoulder collided with a warm body, my head falling to rest on a broad chest.

“I’ve got you.”

Obi-Wan lowered me to the ground. I had many questions, many expressions of relief ready to leave my tongue, but all I could manage was a high-pitched: “ouch.” It ripped through my dry throat, and I swallowed hard, trying to gather myself to say more.

Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around me, offering me a modicum of warmth. “Where’s your dress?” he whispered.

I managed to shake my head. I don’t know.

Obi-Wan rubbed my arms up and down. He was probably trying to generate warmth, but the feeling of his hands on my skin was strangely painful. Then, his hands disappeared for a moment before wrapping a cloak around me, perhaps the one he’d been wearing himself.

How long? I strained to ask as he wrapped the cloak around my neck, the clasp laying cold and heavy on my bare skin. I croaked twice, the croaks somewhat resembling the words.

“Too long,” Obi-Wan whispered. “Eleven days.”

Eleven days.

My head felt too full and too empty to process the weight that came with the timeline.

“Come on, up you get,” he said lowly. His arms hooked under my arms, pulling me upright. Another grunt burst through my lips as my muscles lit up like fire. “I know it hurts.” Obi-Wan pulled my arm around his neck, his steady body keeping me straight. “But we must leave before Dooku returns.”

He pulled me to my feet, and I nearly buckled.

“I know, I know, but I can’t hold my lightsaber if I carry you. You have to walk, Y/N, I need you to walk.”

And then we were walking.

Even as my feet and legs moved, my eyes fell shut, too tired to stay open. If it had been anyone else, I would’ve just laid on the floor, but it was Obi-Wan, so I would keep going.

I heard an electronic ding, and I opened my eyes just in time to see a door sliding away to reveal a barren, frozen wasteland I recognized.

No.

Not this infernal planet again.

The cold Neftali wind blew past my body, and my shivering began anew, but no complaint of any kind could pass through my lips before Obi-Wan dragged me into the snow.

Oh, it was so much worse than my memory made it out to be.

My bare feet were numb in almost an instant.

Obi-Wan couldn’t move carefully, not if he was going to get through the snow, but every movement of his body pulled at a part of mine that ached even as my body was quickly going numb. “Just a little further,” Obi-Wan kept saying as he half-led, half-dragged me. “Just a bit further.”

I pulled the cloak as tight around me as it would go. Even though it was thin, it was better than the brutal winds on my bare skin. I didn’t know where Obi-Wan was leading me, and without the Force, I couldn’t sense anything about my surroundings.

“Just a little more.”

“Stop,” I panted. I felt horrible for saying it, considering Obi-Wan was practically carrying me, but I couldn’t walk anymore.

Obi-Wan came to a stop, gently lowering me to sit on the snow. I clutched onto his arms with my weak grip, which wouldn’t have kept me upright at all, had he not held me up. I desperately tried to catch my breath.

While my master’s appearance revived my spirit, my body was still shutting down.

“I’m…okay,” I managed to say. “Need…breath.”

Oh, every word was a colossal effort, and judging by the speed with which Obi-Wan’s eyebrows drew together, they weren’t as comforting as I’d intended.

“We need to–” He broke off as the distant sounds of voices reached us.

I wanted to cry. I couldn’t go any farther yet, not one single step, but our enemies drew ever nearer. The longer we stayed here, the more likely we were going to get caught. Between the snow and the dungeon, I would rather perish in the snow than be dragged back to that place.

I couldn’t let Obi-Wan get caught, not when he came to rescue me. I looked up into his worried face, trying to summon the strength to move. It didn’t matter if I died on this planet, but if Dooku captured Obi-Wan, he’d subject him to the same pain he’d subjected me to.

Clutching at Obi-Wan’s arms, I tried to sit up.

Obi-Wan’s hand shot out, pressing down on my shoulder. His expression was pinched and cloudy with thought. “Okay,” he said to himself, seeming to come to some decision. “Okay, Y/N, you need to stay here, I’ll draw them away.”

“No!” My arms were weaker than my voice, but I still managed to grab ahold of him before he could slip away. Don’t be an idiot!

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I thought we’d have more time, but I have to lead them away.”

“Don’t–”

“Wait here for me.” Obi-Wan easily peeled my hand off his arm, squeezing it tightly. “I’ll come back, I promise.”

“Obi–”

Obi-Wan lurched forward, resting one hand on each side of my head as he pressed a kiss to my hairline, his beard scratching against my skin. And with that, he took off running. Blue light appeared as he activated his lightsaber, but soon, he disappeared altogether.

Even as my terror about Obi-Wan’s safety ricocheted through my brain, my eyes fell closed.

I’d seen many bodies suffer too much to hold on, but I’d never experienced it. Is this what it’d felt like for every patient I’d ever lost? Was this how much energy it took simply to hold on?

A grim certainty settled over me. If I stayed here in the cold much longer, my body would officially give up.

The sound of more voices became discernible over the roaring that could’ve been from the storm or could’ve just been in my own head. The voices grew closer.

Did it matter much if they found me?

No.

But would Obi-Wan endanger himself again to rescue me and get captured himself?

I couldn’t risk it.

The desperation got me moving. Slowly, I managed to get to my hands and knees and started to crawl.

I didn’t look up, not wanting to know how far I still had to go. I just kept crawling and crawling and crawling.

The bunker, I remembered. But where was it? And how could I find it without the Force leading me?

Without the Force, I had no idea if I was even headed in the correct direction. If I’d been thinking clearly, I would’ve waited for Obi-Wan, but I didn’t, and now I was lost. He wouldn’t be able to find me when he was cut off from the Force, but reconnecting to it would bring Dooku right to him.

Too tired to do anything, I half rolled, half collapsed onto my side, my arms falling limply to the ground as my head came to rest. The biting cold snow against my face hurt, but I couldn’t muster up energy to lift it.

Soon enough, I didn’t feel the cold anymore, nor the wet snow against my body, not even the thumping of my headache.

Everything was silent.

Everything was hazy.

And then everything was nothing at all.

Part 5

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