#but I haven’t loved sword fighting from afar for this long for me to not get a sword at some point.

[southislandwren]

Ah fuck i am romanticizing the shit out of a sword. I think I’m gonna ration my money for my next 4 paychecks so I can afford a sword and my tattoo (both in august lol) because not getting a sword at this point will be devastating. And yes I did just remember I’m getting a tattoo in august. Hell yeah

Oh edited to add since my birthday is in august maybe I can be like no gifts just money for sword. Because I’m a special little baby I still get gifts from my immediate family but this year? All sword. Let’s get this fucking bread (a sword)

[capt-spooki3]

...And Sunrises Were Worse

A sequel to Sunsets Never Felt The Same...

Pairing: Revivebur and Reader

Warnings: blood mentions, fighting, angsty feelings, kissing, manipulativebur

Y/n was finally recovering after the unfortunate demise of their lover just to find, he is back and better than ever...

3.6k words

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Y/n watched him from afar, arms open wide as he took in the rays from the rising sun.

“This is my sunrise..”

Hearing the words from him sent chills through their whole body. Watching him stand there, alive and grinning like a mad man, made them sick. Whether it was from shock, disbelief, or anger they weren’t sure yet.

It had been nine whole years that he had been gone and the only piece of him left was his ghost. Ghostbur was a comforting presence, but it just took so much for them not to try and question Ghostbur on why he left them. Not only did his ghost not remember them, but they learned quickly that he had no memory of his past mistakes.

They never expected his lonely soul to be so innocent and sweet, especially after seeing face to face how far he had fallen once he lost his darling country. That last glimpse of him they got, shook them to their core and took years to recover from. Though honestly, it never fully left them. They were ready to move on and look for love in someone that wasn’t six feet under. But there stood their former lover, watching as Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo walked away from him with Friend following close behind. He was smiling in a manic way, looking the exact same way he did when he kissed them and ran off to face his demise but this time there was something different that they just couldn’t place their finger on. Maybe it was that this time, he had a will and a want to be alive.

Y/n shook their head, letting a shiver run down their spine as they turned and started to walk away, not wanting to look at him anymore and hoping that they would just be able to forget he had come back to life.

“My dearest sunflower... “ They stopped in their tracks as they heard the voice say softly, just loud enough for his words to reach them. They held their breath, hoping to hear him speak again or not at all, while a cold sweat went down their back. Everything stood quiet like the world was holding its breath along with Y/n.

“Don’t ignore me now, love. Please, turn and look at me. I want to see your face again, it’s been too long.”

“What the hell are you doing here- yOU WERE GONE WILBUR! YOU WERE GONE! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO STAY GONE!” They balled up their fists and squeezed their eyes tight to try and not let the tears slip through. Emotions that have been kept under wraps for years were finally coming forth to plague their mind. All from hearing his sugar-coated voice again, but they knew all that laid under the tooth-rotting exterior anymore was pure venom.

“Y/n… please don’t be upset. I’m back. I’m here, I can make things better than ever.” His voice was growing closer and was only unraveling them farther.

“NO! Wilbur stop- stop moving. Don’t come closer.” They pleaded, voice growing frail as tears were trying harder to run free. “Please…”

“Listen to me at least, darling.”

“No. I won’t.

“Y/n.” He sounded like he was warning them to comply. A big red waving flag telling them that even in death, he hasn’t changed.

“I’m leaving, and once I’m gone. So are you.” They started walking down the small mound of rubble they were watching him from as soon as they finished their sentence and picking up the pace as soon as their feet hit the glass that kept them from falling into the crater of L’manburg.

“Y/N!!” Wilbur called out to them desperately. “H-Hold on, just wait!” But they didn’t stop, they didn’t even look back and just kept their eyes on the swirling vines that tainted the space below them.

Harsh footsteps rang out on the glass, they sounded like boots as they clicked nicely. Suddenly they were pulled back when a hand grabbed onto their arm to stop them, Wilbur took small gasps as he caught his slightly extended breaths. Y/n looked back at him and finally looked him in the eyes again after nine years. His mouth hung open just a little as he steadied his breathing. Dirt was smudged on one cheek while a bit of blood was dried on the other and a long past dried bloody nose. He looked tired too, very apparent bags were under his eyes now though his glasses sat perfect and untouched on his nose. The red in his eyes was so easy to see and up close made it even more unsettling especially as he looked at them so fondly and softly like he never stopped loving them even in death.

“Don’t leave me, please.” He whispered, pulling them just a bit closer, looking like a puppy pleading for their owner not to go to work.

“Wilbur. It has been nine years. Nine years you’ve been gone, nine years tha-”

“Thirteen years!” He leaned forward just lightly as he emphasized the number. Y/n stopped and just looked at him, confused by him one upping them.

“What?”

“I have been in limbo for thirteen years Y/n. An empty train station. No exit. No one else there to help. I screamed and clawed at the walls. I was stuck there for so, so long. But I never forgot you. I missed you so much.” Wilbur finally let their arm go and let his arm fall back to his side, looking defeated. “I can’t tell you how many times I relived memories of you just to make me feel something again. Like… remember our sunset?” He looked down through the glass floor, smiling sweetly as he was obviously thinking back on the time. But Y/n simply looked at him in disbelief and almost disgust that he was thinking of them.

“Do you even realize how much it hurts? The things you told me before you went and got yourself killed? I held onto that for so many years, Wilbur.” He fixed his gaze back on them, his smile having been lost as soon as they started talking. “I was so ready to be healed from you and pursue love. Just… be happy. I haven’t forgotten you, but that’s because you hurt me so.. so bad.”

They let out a shuddering breath and took a few steps back from him to which he started to reach for them but stopped himself, lowering his hands to his sides and dropping his shoulders.

“I’m leaving. And I need you to let me leave and forget I was ever here.” They demanded once and for all before turning sharply and walking away from him.

“CAN YOU… can you stay. For just… for just a bit. Till sunset. Let me stay with you.” Y/n slowed to a stop when hearing his sad request. “Sunset can be the limit and you can bring me back here and I won’t follow you. Please just… Can you give me this?”

They sighed deeply, their addiction to his voice returning much faster than they hoped it would. They started to move again but not before calling back to him.

“Well come on then. I told myself I’d sort the books at the library today.” Y/n knew they didn’t need to wait for him because a few paces in and he had caught up to their side, hands in his pocket as he took smaller strides by their side.

“You finally built the library you always talked about?” Wilbur asked fondly, they could feel the constant glances he was throwing their way, and frankly, it took a lot of effort not to look back at him.

“Actually Foolish did it for me, I commissioned him. It looks really good too, almost everyone frequents it. I’ve even gotten Techno and Phil to drop by a good number of times.” They found their way onto the Prime Path as it made the walk to the library the easiest amongst all the rugged land.

“Yeah? I bet that Ranboo guy is there a lot, he looks like a bookworm.”

“He stops by quite a bit, yeah... Ghostbur was always there though.” They said as their voice grew softer. “Unless he was traveling around or visiting others to spread his blue, he was sitting there with Friend and reading.”

Wilbur didn’t try to make any comment after that and Y/n had to give him that. At least he still knows when it was best to shut up and bear the silence.

The rest of their walk remained rather quiet other than little comments here and there and Wilbur requested a quick walk by the museum once he saw it. Even though they could have cared less about what he wanted, Y/n agreed to walk by it since it wouldn’t set them off their path too much. They couldn’t help but admire him as he was now, they always thought Ghostbur was the actual soul AND mind of Wilbur with just amnesia. After being around him for so long, they got the urge to explain events to him whenever he would mention them, just to be reminded that he was there and remembered it all.

-

“Oh, so this must be the library ey?” Wilbur said excitedly as he stared at the two-story building and nodded in approval. “Gotta tell that Foolish guy he did a good job.”

Y/n laughed a little and went in with Wilbur close behind and quietly observing the interior.

“Go ahead and do whatever you want, I’ll be… kinda everywhere do just call if you need anything okay?” They glanced back to him to see his eyes already on them, smiling softly before he nodded.

“I can help too if you need it.”

“Uh- no. No, I’ll be fine, thank you.” They said quickly before rushing to start upstairs and get some distance between him, still not all that comfortable being so close to a man that was dead mere hours ago. They knelt down to a bookshelf and went on autopilot while they sorted through and put books in the right order.

It was so hard for their mind to fully process that he was revived. They overheard Tommy when he met up with Tubbo and Ranboo so they heard the whole story and followed behind secretly. They watched from afar when they found Wilbur but sadly didn’t hear most of what he had to say out of pure shock that he was standing right there without a sword through his chest. As much as they wanted to completely forget about his existence, They doubted they would be able to get rid of him now. All they could hope is that he would keep his distance and not be kind enough to make them fall in love with him all over again.

Hours passed by in minutes for them and they were finished with the top floor of books and went downstairs to find Wilbur standing there with obviously freshly baked bread, contemplating walking up the stairs.

“Y/n! Sorry um… here.” He offered the small loaf to them, he didn’t have his gloves on anymore and his hands were cleaned. “You’ve been working hard, but you need to take care of yourself.”

They took the bread from him carefully, taking a piece and trying to find it surprisingly good. He must have gotten it from the bakery.

“Thank you, Wilbur…. You eat too.” They took their leave into the rows of bookshelves to distance themself and eat near one of the back windows.

Things weren’t looking good for them at this rate.

-

“Alright Wilbur, got all your things? I’ve got to walk you back then go home.”

Wilbur hopped up from the chair he was sitting in, pulling his gloves out of his pockets and slipping them both on before adjusting his coat.

“Yep, all ready. Lead the way.”

And lead they did, though this time they took the more remote path down to his shrine. They took the path that Phil and his group used when they were first trying to revive Wilbur by using Ghostbur. It was calmer and it let Wilbur see other parts of the nearby area that he didn’t before.

“You know… Y/n. Have you ever been down here at night?” Wilbur asked as they were nearing the shrine.

“Huh? Oh, no I haven’t. Not since… you know.” They cast a quick glance to their side at him. “It doesn’t bring back the best memories so I try to avoid it.”

“Right, right, that makes sense.” He went quiet, but it was obvious he wanted to add on and most likely ask them something.

“Why?”

“Well, I saw them earlier and thought they looked rather nice. Did you see the floating lanterns? There were just a few, but they stood out to me among all the destroyed land.” He took a breath and looked over at them until they met his eyes. “I wanted to ask you if you could stay and look at them with me.”

Y/n just looked at him, expressionless and not saying a word.

“Look, the sun is literally already setting. Just for a few minutes, please? We can uh- we can stand on the other side of the shrine and look at them. Okay?” He looked up at the sunset before it was hidden by the land. “Just before you leave.”

“Just before I leave.” They softly echoed him and got a rushed thank you as he picked his pace up now.

They finally reached the stone steps that led to the shrine and Wilbur happily took the lead, walking to the backside of the shrine to lean up against the lapis wall. Y/n fell back against it and sighed, closing their eyes and being thankful for a moment to rest. They opened their eyes and looked up at the lanterns floating nearby, glowing brightly against the land now that the sun was set. They let themself slip away while watching the calming float of the lanterns.

Feeling eyes on them, they looked over to Wilbur. He didn’t even try to look away, just looking at them with a distant gaze and hands resting in his pockets. He looked numb as he silently watched despite the soft rosy look of his cheeks. There was something there they could only describe as numb and lovesick. As odd as it sounds, it fits.

“Wilbur-”

“Shh just let me… you look too lovely right now.”

They felt the heat rising to their face as much as they hated to feel it with him. It felt too right to hear it from him again and their mind pushed them to beg him to say those words again.

“I… I need to go home.” Y/n whispered to him, not even sure if that’s what they wanted anymore.

“I know, but darling I’m selfish.” He spoke softly to match their tone. They looked away to let out their held breath and contemplate what they were supposed to do. With a deep and grounding breath, they looked back at him. As much as they were ready to tell him they were leaving him here alone, him giving obvious glances to their lips just stopped them from being able to go forward with it.

With a soft bite of his lip, he tore his gaze away and sighed as looked up at the star-speckled sky, resting his head back. They were frozen now, admiring him this time. They swore they wouldn’t fall again but look at them now, ready to throw caution to the wind.

And they did.

Y/n closed the distance between them willingly for the first time that day and grabbed onto the arm of his jacket to get his attention, just above the L’mamburg flag patch that was covered with old dirt and blood. He looked down at them with wide eyes, very obviously surprised to see them so close.

“Are you… okay?”

“I-... I don’t know.” They admitted, meaning it completely. Wanting any of him now felt wrong but with someone as addicting and beautiful as him, what were they to do? “I want to leave… but I can’t.”

Wilbur snickered, bringing a gloved hand up to rub their cheek softly.

“Can’t or don’t want to?”

They opened their mouth to answer but were just met with blank thoughts, knowing he was right.

They just stood there, looking at each other and neither one making any advancements or turning away to end it.

“If I… Wilbur, if I kiss you right now, what will you do?”

“Well, Y/n I might just not be able to let you go. So if you want to leave and never see me again, then go. I won’t stop you. But sunshine, if you kiss me right now I won’t be able to keep myself away.” He opened his hand up to put it fully on their cheek, holding them as though this contact meant the world to him. They leaned into his hand just a little, not breaking eye contact.

They thought hard about if this was really a good idea. They still had the time to back out if they wanted to, it wasn’t too late for them to keep him out of their life forever and not try to get to know him all over again.

It was a good idea to leave. The best and smartest idea even, but even still they chose the latter.

“You’re an evil man, Wilbur Soot.” They muttered before grabbing onto the collar of his jacket, pulling his face down to theirs, and kissing him hard, making both of them stumble a bit by Wilbur being off balance. His hands found their way back to their cheeks immediately though, holding them so softly. He pulled them closer, not seeming to want to give this moment a chance to leave. Y/n pulled away finally to catch their breath, they couldn’t help but look at his eyes just to find that he was crying. He was smiling as well though. The sight made tears prick their own eyes though they blinked hard to try and hold them back. Before, seeing him in tears never failed to make them cry. They could never figure out why but it still held true.

"Why are you crying, you idiot? '' They mumbled just before he put his forehead to theirs and closed his eyes, taking in a deep yet shaky breath.

"You’re finally back in my arms… after so long of wishing for you.” He pulled their face to him to kiss them again and laugh softly. “It’s just crazy.”

He leaned back when he slid his hands off their cheeks, but not before running his hand through their hair and sighing as he looked at them. “Y/n… I need you to listen to me, okay?” He still spoke sweetly, but something seemed to lay underneath the surface of this and this time they could tell.

“Okay… but I don’t know if I can trust what you are going to say.”

“No no love! Please,” He reached down to grab and hold both of their hands close to his chest as he looked into their eyes. “You can trust me. You can. I just… I have things I need to do now that I’m back. And these things, I know some people aren’t going to agree with, but no matter what happens. As long as you stay on my side, I can promise you the world.”

Wilbur leaned in close to them, voice growing quiet now but the small smile he bore looked sinister. “I can promise you the world because I am going to capture the world in my hands. And as long as you’re mine, it will be yours as well.” He stroked their hands with his thumbs comfortingly as if to smooth over the words he just told them.

“Wilbur… I have friends. People I think of as family and if you end up hurting them I…” They trailed off, looking away from him and at the rubble of L’manburg and reflecting on what happened the last time he had a great goal in mind.

“That’s perfect! No, that is just perfect Y/n!” He let go of them, eyes wide along with his smile. “You have time. Think it over sunflower, I will give you time.”

He easily slipped past them and took a few strides away. Y/n turned to look at him, their mind in a hopeless scramble of pieces. The two sides of their mind battled on if they should tell him off or blindly trust him. He looked back at them, glancing away again before he walked up to them and gently lifted their chin to get a good look at him.

Memories flooded back to them with the familiar look he gave them. As much as they wished it could be a positive moment, all they saw was the man who grabbed them and kissed them as he said his adrenaline-filled goodbye. The only difference now was he wasn’t ready to die, but looked more than ready to cause any other kind of damage.

“You really are beautiful… I hope you choose me.” He held their chin and rubbed his thumb over their bottom lip before kissing them again, longer and sweeter this time before he spoke against their lips. “Find me when you’re ready. I’ll be waiting for you.”

___________________________________________

While you're here...

pss pss psss 👁👄👁 i made art for it too

[jade-parcels]

Mentor Kaeya headcanons because I keep seeing the ‘Kaeya taught Bennett to hold a sword! They have the same fighting style!’ theory and I love it :’)

Bennett wants to be a successful adventurer! And what does an adventurer need to do? They need to be able to find treasure! And protect themselves from others who may want to steal that treasure

Bennett is always looking for strong, male influences in his life. He strives to be strong, cool and confident one day! His dads all have such amazing stories from their ‘good ol’ days’ as young adventurers! They tell tales of fighting off treasure hoarders or outrunning ruin guards! Oh wow! Of course Bennett looks up to these guys! He wants to be just like them!

He looks up to the knights too though he tends to keep his distance since he spreads bad luck wherever he goes....poor thing

Bennett likes to sit and watch from afar during knights training! The captains take newbies out to Mondstadt’s open land in order to train away from everyday citizens! Bennett likes to take notes and imitate their fighting styles...again, from afar

But Kaeya is super observant. Of course he notices Bennett. In fact, he slows training down a little so the boy can see step by step what the knights are doing. Bennett doesn’t know that though. Kaeya cant help but come to like Bennett, the kid sure is persistent. Rain or shine, warm or cold, Benny is out there watching the knights train whenever he can, jumping around and swinging his sword as he learns along with everyone else

After awhile it becomes apparent that Bennett is no longer following what the training captain does...He’s solely focused on Kaeya now. He just thinks he’s cool

So one day, Kaeya stops by the adventurer’s guild headquarters to see Bennett!! ‘Well well well, if it isn’t my little copycat!’ Bennett is so so embarrassed!!! He really though he was being discreet lmao

Kaeya is actually more than happy to train him! He sees Bennett’s potential for sure. Kaeya was somewhat of a string bean as a kid. He was quiet, not always confident in his actions, hell sometimes he’d make Diluc talk for him! That was long ago...

Bennett is the opposite of Kaeya’s younger self. He’s strong, energetic and again, persistent!

Kaeya really thinks Bennett is a special kid. So he decides to set aside a few hours every Monday and Wednesday to train him. The two go around the wall outside of Mondstadt to practice on the grass out there

Bennett is so grateful that Kaeya is so patient! Many of their training sessions have been interrupted by rain (even a hail storm once...jeez louise!!!) and they’ve had unfortunate encounters with swords randomly breaking or equipment getting lost. But Bennett’s bad luck has yet to drive Captain Kaeya away!!

‘Rain again? Oh well, looks like we just have to make sure not to slip in the mud’ ‘sorry Captain Kaeya...It’s my fault, I always bring rain with me everywhere’ ‘It’s no big deal at all! Cryo works far better in the rain anyway! Try to keep up, kiddo!’

Bennett really looks up to Kaeya. He goes to him with personal problems that he can’t quite figure out himself, he high-fives him in the street when they cross paths, he cheers him on from the sidelines when he happens to see the knights out on duty. Kaeya is the same way, he views Bennett as a little brother :’) he always waves hello when he sees him, he’ll sneak a bit of treasure to him and once he’s old enough for it, Kaeya will even have a special sword made for Benny :)

‘That guy? You haven’t met him yet? Aw man, that’s Captain Kaeya! You’re gonna love him, traveler! He’s so cool!’

‘Bennett? Yes I know him. He’s a great kid, I’m glad I have the opportunity to train someone like him. He’ll grow up to be a famous adventurer, I just know it. Though if he ever writes a book about his adventures, he better give me some credit~’

[gallpall]

canaan bubble redux as a womb for story/character arcs

I’m sure most of this has been posted about before but: ever since my initial read I’ve been obsessed with the gross bodily/gorey stuff in the Canaan redux and I wanted to organize some of my constant+chaotic thoughts!!

TM has said that a lot of the motifs/events in the bubbles are actually “Silent Hill stand-ins” for story elements and she hopes we pick up on stuff, so here’s my Attempt!

At the same time that Harrow’s mind is being made a tomb for Gideon Nav Wake’s subconscious is pulled in to act as a womb for certain plot elements right alongside it. The chronology/time period of HtN mimics a full nine-month gestation. There’s a lot of very literal imagery here (which is below the cut), but I also think we’re meant to see it as metaphorical: we’re able to glean some things about character arcs based on how everything in the bubble goes down.

I’m particularly interested right now in those ‘side’ characters in the bubble who aren’t actually dead, who barely appear in the bubble at all except to get summarily offed, all in very distinctive ways. Judith, Camilla, Palamedes, and Coronabeth.

(cw below cut for some pregnancy/insemination imagery, canonical body horror and gruesome bubble deaths rehashed)

First of all just some quotes showing some of the imagery that I’ve attributed to being Wake manifesting pregnancy trauma stuff (there’s possibly some of Harrow’s conception trauma here, too) seeping through, for the purposes of this line of speculation. 

This isn’t nearly all of it, but some things that stood out to me as possibly comparing Canaan House 2.0 to a functioning reproductive system:

(ch. 21) a “collection of large, rusted pipette needles” -- turkey basters?

(ch. 35) “great, slithering, pulsing tubes” which contain “whitish-pearl bubbled globules”-- this perhaps recalls ovaries/fallopian tubes, with the ‘globules’ being follicles produced by superovulation for insemination, or corpus luteum that supply progesterone to maintain a pregnancy.

(ch. 45) “stretched webs of organ [...] like nets of sticky venous spiderweb” --uterine walls, maybe; it’s all over the windows, totally encasing them in Canaan’s rooms, and arguably even contracting like a uterus would: “every so often they would tremble uncertainly and erupt in floods of bloody, foamy water.”

in the next pgh we get some more of the tools Wake would have used to conceive/upkeep the pregnancy: “pipettes, broken glass-fronted containers filled with dark fluid,” skeletons sitting atop piles of “capsules or pills” perhaps hormones/supplements. (also holding Drearburh tools, the way Wake’s skelly would have been doomed to do)

(ch. 43) “from that hole emerged a clattering pile of plex scope slides, the type you would preserve a cell sample between“ -- Wake would’ve had to carry out the IVF process for implantation, this also seems like apparatus for that

(ch. 47) there’s the “libation” Abigail uses to summon Wake which is... well. It’s a “thin, milky, whitish liquid pooled at the base, sluggish in the cold,” and the summoning involves a bunch of ‘come’ commands, which I think might be Muir making a very elaborate jizz-adjacent “silly buggers with the emissions” joke. 

Just a note, cause I’m hopeless about Pyrrwake: the Seconds’ quarters are almost completely preserved from the leaky body horror (though it’s still cold in there)--as if they represented a sanctuary in Wake’s subconscious. There are also letters in the nonagonal coffin room which spell out an anagram of “PYRRHA” (ch. 47).

So with all that in mind, I’d posit that the fake-ghost deaths are all metaphorical “rebirths” of various characters arcs for ATN. I haven’t delved into what this imagery might mean for Harrow or Gideon specifically because I know there’s a LOT and it’s probably above my theoretical paygrade (I would love for someone to tack on with that though!!) but I can talk about ‘side’ chars on a very big-picture level.

Judith’s simulacrum gets knocked off first (ch. 18); shot through the heart (both atria) while she and Marta’s ghost are trying to complete the winnowing trial. The Sleeper shoots her 7 more times after that, I guess partly just ‘cause she can, but Ortus notes that it seems like there was an element of "Anger” to it. It’s possible Wake wasn’t pleased to have someone messing around with Pyrrha’s lyctoral trial, infuriated that anyone would be attempting to replicate G1d/Pyr’s original downfall. She then ignores Marta entirely and climbs back in the coffin (now with the sword) once Judith’s out of the way.

[Marta’s] scarlet necktie looked redder too—by the time they’d gotten hold of Judith Deuteros the blood had dried hers nearly black.

Cohort red-and-whites being stained black with blood, like a certain high-collared BOE uniform... could be another little clue to Judith’s "heart” for the Emperor (and for Marta, and pretty much everything else she knew) being lost and her realigning--though not willingly, at least at first--with the other side.

Cam and Pal’s simulacrums are plainly executed (ch. 21), they have their “faces obliterated” each by a single gunshot, and it’s as if they just stood there and let it happen. In the bubble, “Harrow had never seen Sextus or Hect except from afar.” These simulacrums totally avoid having their features revealed to Harrow. I’m willing to bet their faces being obscured and then exploded is one of the clues we get to their eyes being swapped around the next time we see them in the epilogue and in ATN.

Regarding the twins: They are essentially non-extant in the bubble. Ianthe never appears because she’s still kicking and, in her own words, “doesn’t live alternate histories” (GtN ch. 15).

Coronabeth’s simulacrum scene (ch. 37) is SO vivid and cryptic. It fascinates me because it definitely is, in part, trying to tell us something poignant about the initiation of Corona’s “worse twin” arc in ATN.

[Corona] was turned away from Harrow, and her riot of hair—half-caught in a fillet, half-escaping—was soaking wet, a dark and crinkling amber in the rain. She was not fighting or arguing. She was still as a statue, and ready and waiting as a dog.

Sounds like the fake ghost preparing for that major shift in allegiance. Silas is the one to ‘dismiss’ her, with his “may the blood of your blood suffer,” which perhaps is a really Templar-y way of saying ‘now go wreck ianthe’s SHIT.’ When Harrow accuses him of sending Corona to her death, Silas asks “Death?”--as if he sees that what’s really just happened, at least metaphorically, is (re)Birth.

[Harrow] thought she saw, absurdly, a sudden gush of watery blood, as though the fog itself had been knifed; but it was gone almost as soon as she had seen it.

Sounds a bit like amniotic fluid/water breaking? Coronabeth doesn’t ever seem to hit the ocean (bodies of water=necromancy and that’s not her deal), she instead just kinda poofs, and Silas says she would have ended up “on her feet.” Coronabeth is ditching her family ties and is out for blood, and I think her charisma, willpower, and sheer desire for revenge will move her a long way in the ranks of Eden--probably even to the point of echoing Commander Wake’s ambitions and actions. I could delve into that damn portrait mirroring Ianthe’s obsession w/ Cyrus’ paintings on the Mithraeum... but that is a whole other post!

So all of these are fairly baseline observations and I think there’s a LOT more to be expounded on, if y’all wanna reply/reblog/DM with additions I would freaking love that, every time I open a page of this book I find something I missed before and it’s such a delight. Thanks for reading if you got this far!!

[smallblip]

Deep sea baby

Levihan | Rated for mild swearing and mild deed-doing | This is a secret santa gift for @hanji-zoe103  💕

It’s on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/28429827

Hanji is born of white foam, where the heavens collide with the sea, and Levi loves her with a fierceness that would make the tides jealous. Levi knows little of poetics, but Hanji promises to find him in the next life and the ones after.

And sure as the waves crashing into shore, she does.

 Hanji is the sea. Uncompromising, untamable, painfully beautiful. Levi thinks she’s poetry in motion, the way she dances, barefoot across sandy beaches, the way she walks down towards the place where the sea meets land, unafraid amidst white waters. 

  He sits, like the shores, and watches her. Watches her bend towards the ground, hands dipping beneath foam, searching for shells. She holds them up against the sun to inspect them when she finds them. Treasure, she calls them. 

  When she’s waist deep in salt water she turns back to look at him. 

  “Come on Levi! The water is warm!” 

  ≋

  Hanji is born of white foam, where the heavens collide with the sea.

  And Levi is the most beautiful boy to have walked the earth, so beautiful he puts the gods to shame. And Hanji fears whatever love they have will be short-lived, because he loves her with a fierceness that would make the tides jealous. 

  It’s a long way from heaven, but Hanji comes to see him every day. She sits with him in a clearing in the forest while he works and he’s sceptical at first. Nothing good comes from associating with the old gods. But the hem of her dress is caked in mud, there’s earth under her nails, and she swears exactly like a sailor would. He teaches her to climb trees and she names all the sheep in his flock. 

  “Maybe it would be nice to stay here forever...” she says to him one day, and Levi understands the gravity of what she’s suggesting. The heavens would not allow for it. They would cut her up piece by piece and she would be returned to the sea. 

  But there’s a conviction in Hanji’s eyes, a severity that justifies the cult of mortals at her feet. The same determination that Hanji has when she’s pulling splinters from her fingers, when she picks wildflowers for Levi, when she holds him against her chest and challenges the gods. She balls her fists and curses the greys of the skies, yet she dances in the rain, giggling, pulling Levi to join her. He surprises himself when he relents.

  So Levi tells her she has his heart. 

  Each night he holds her close, and each night she falls into a deep slumber and she dreams of running barefoot through a field of white roses to reach him. She pierces her foot on a thorn and the field is stained red. A field of red roses. Each one blooming and dying at Levi’s feet. 

  ≋

  In a kinder life, they are childhood friends in a sleepy seaside town. Levi has a popsicle in his mouth, the last of it melting on his tongue. Hanji has long finished hers, and her fingers are sticky from the syrup. But it doesn’t matter because Levi is burying her in the sand so she can keep her filth to herself. He contemplates covering her mouth with sand too, but they’re going to turn thirteen soon and he’s tired of pretending that her talking annoys him. 

  “When I’m older I’m going to sail all over the world!” Hanji grins. Levi thinks it’s funny that now she’s just a talking head in the sand.

  But his heart sinks a little. He doesn’t know if his future is on a vessel bound to nowhere. But they’re still young and their plans have little structure and bearing, so for now Levi pretends he’s going to be there with her, sailing across the ocean.

  “Did you know it’s a myth that lobsters mate for life?” Hanji says, absentminded, part of her trying to distract from the heat, and another part of her already thinking about that ice cream they have waiting for them in her freezer. “Sad huh... Who knew you can’t trust everything on TV...” she laughs. 

  “Seahorses mate for life...” Levi says. He tries to stay nonchalant, but he’s a little embarrassed he spends his free time googling facts he thinks Hanji would enjoy.

  And Hanji knows. Of course she does. She has known him her whole life. In this life and the next he is her Levi. Her Levi with an endless capacity for kindness. She smiles. 

  “Seahorses huh...”

  ≋

  They meet on a ship sailing through uncharted waters. Levi joins the Royal Navy when it feels like he’s exhausted all other options. There's a hunger for power that guides their ship to foreign lands.

  It’s the middle of the night when hears shouting. He jolts awake and already the rest of the crew are reaching for their weapons. There’s no time to change out of their night clothes. The ship spirals into a frenzy. He spots the warning of black sails and white crossbones from afar. The ship is gaining on them. It’s clear they have to stand their ground and fight. 

  The pirates board their ship, and there’s a wild clash of knives and swords and the smell of blood in the air mixing with the metallic taste of gold and bronze and silvers. Levi lunges but his sword is halted midair by a cutlass. 

  “Not so fast Officer...” the pirate says. Past the eyepatch and greasy hair he sees her- he feels her. There’s a white rush by his ears calling for him to come home. 

  I found you, she whispers in his ear as she brings him aboard her ship. 

  The sea promises gold and riches beyond imagination, and Levi promises to follow her to the ends of the earth. 

  ≋

  Levi works in his uncle's bakery a small town in the middle of godforsaken nowhere. It's a family business, and they've been getting good reviews from travel blogs online looking for spots off the beaten path. 

  Levi is on a date to the aquarium and Kenny yells a “don't come back tonight if you know what's good for you!” after him. There are still customers in the bakery and everyone is staring at him. The teenagers in the corner snigger. 

  His date doesn't show, but he's not surprised really. The first date had gone by in a way that could be considered painless. But beyond nice pleasantries, there’s nothing much to look forward to. So Levi completely understands. Then again she could’ve at least had the courtesy to drop him a text. In any case, Kenny will be disappointed. He enters the aquarium anyway. Might as well. He had already purchased the tickets, and he hasn’t been since he was a child in elementary school. He watches the sharks swim laps behind the thick glass. He wonders if they feel unfulfilled, living in a tank, watching as people from all around take family trips to visit the aquarium. 

  “That one’s Bean!” Levi switches his attention from a particularly small shark to the person beside him. 

  “What?” He replies.

  “That one!” She points to the shark making its way past them, “she’s Bean. We rescued her from a fishing net.” 

  Levi watches her grin with suspicion. Maybe he should introduce himself. He's not usually one to introduce himself to strangers with wild hair and gleaming eyes behind thick glasses, but there's a first for everything, and before he knows it, he's telling her his name.

  "Date stood you up?" she says, and Levi glares at her. "Oh... Wait... That really happened?" she apologises, and the stranger with the wild hair and gleaming eyes becomes Hanji. There’s something about the lights in the aquarium, the blues and violets that reflect off the auburn in her eyes in a way that’s almost ethereal. 

  The things that conspire after are tricks of the light then, surely. Hanji invites him back to her apartment, and they talk and they polish off a six pack of beers and a few bottles of cheap wine between the two of them. "This is fun! I haven't gotten shipfaced in a while!" Hanji chuckles. 

  “No.” Levi says, he has little tolerance for bad nautical puns. But it only encourages Hanji to tell him more. There's a mix of "where ya fin all my life" and "you're whaley cute", and finally, when she's absolutely smashed, a "nice boat, wanna fuck?" 

  At that, the dams break and Levi laughs. 

  Hanji wakes up the next morning, killer headache, she shoots up and the headache splits her skull open. Too quick. 

  “Ouch...” she says, eyes blinking through sleep and haze. She grabs at the bottle of water by her bedside and shuffles through her drawer for ibuprofen. 

  “You idiot...” 

  Hanji snaps her head up, looking for the owner of the voice and there Levi is, leaning against her door, hands folded across his chest. Hanji’s jaw slackens. 

  “In case you were wondering, no, nothing happened...” 

  “But... but you’re here... in... in my room...” 

  “Tch...” Levi rolls his eyes, “you passed out and I stayed just in case you choked on your own vomit and died in the middle of the night...” 

  Oh...

  “Wait did I?” 

  Levi raises a brow, she’s still not all there. “Still alive aren’t you?” 

  Hanji shrugs. This could be hell for all she knows. “Fast acting pain relief” proving to be the biggest scam of the century. 

  "What a fucking shipwreck of a person..." Levi says and it takes Hanji a minute before she's doubled over in laughter, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. 

  Levi half expects to never see her ever again, but there she is the day after, as promised, finger pressed to the glass, ordering herself a Pain au Chocolat, an Americano, and his number on a piece of napkin. He sighs, but he's writing it down for her anyway.

  "You really followed me home that night huh... Didn't it cross your mind that I could be a serial killer?" She says, examining his handiwork. 

  Levi scoffs, "you invited a complete stranger you picked up at the aquarium into your house, and then proceeded to get very wasted... Didn't it cross your mind that I could have been the serial killer?"

  Hanji laughs, and it startles her when it echoes throughout the bakery, "touché..." she says, "guess I am a shipwreck of a person..." she winks.

  The corners of Levi's lips betray a smile as he watches her take a seat by the window to read. 

  "That's not Petra..." Kenny comments. 

  "Who said I went home with Petra?" Levi answers.

  Kenny's face pulls into a smirk and he lets loose a deep rumble of laughter, “Levi you absolute dog!”

  ≋

  The sea is a passage. To a new life that Hanji can only pray will be fulfilling. She is the princess of a port kingdom- a people favoured by the sun and raised by the sea. 

  Her ships carry her to a distant land of frigid waters and snowfall, where her betrothed is king. When she sets foot on land, she's greeted by faces paler than hers and a mannerism befitting the heartiness of Northern kingdoms. There are skins being made into pelt, fish hanging out to dry, wines made from preserved fruit. Already, Hanji misses the white sandy beaches and the heat of the midday sun, but she's to be queen now, and she remembers this when she walks past the heavy doors into the throne room. She comes bearing gifts of glass beads, fine porcelain, and dried fruit and nuts- a reminder of Summer. 

  She takes her place beside her husband, and she smiles at the people who have come to see her- the princess from the other side of the sea. They are her people now. 

  And that's when she sees him.

  His expression doesn't change even when he kneels in front of her and kisses the back of her hand. He vows to protect her. 

  She calls for him later, and he tells her to call him Levi- he has never been too keen on formalities. Besides, Sir Levi doesn’t suit him quite as much. And she's Hanji, just Hanji. 

  It's Winter when they take a ride through the forest. She's not used to the heavy furs and wools and Levi has to remind her that the sun doesn't shine the same here. But Hanji knows. Her golden skin now mellowing. She hikes her dress above her knees and toes through the snow. The ground caves beneath her feet like powdered sugar, and Hanji thinks maybe there's beauty in her new home. She thinks maybe there's warmth to be found, as Levi catches her before she slips. 

  He shows her the lake, now frozen over, and they slide over thick ice like children. She pulls him down with her when she falls and they laugh. There's something in his eyes that Hanji recognises as fear. She feels it in the beat of her own heart, warning her against falling. But they’ve been treading on thin ice around one another, and falling seems inevitable.

  So Levi presses back against her and kisses her. Hanji feels a warmth coursing through her- the same fire she's promised in the lullabies her mother used to sing her. 

  "We should come in Spring. The lake is beautiful then..." Levi says as they make their way back to the castle. And Hanji promises to show him her home. The crystal waters; gentle waters. She knows it's a promise that may never be fulfilled, but nevertheless, this is a moment in time, and promises offer a glimpse into possibility. 

  Come Spring, they make love by the lake, under the cover of the sea of trees. Everything is beautiful in the Spring. 

  ≋

  In another life, the sea promises protection. 

  There’s only one rule out at sea near the white rocks-

  Beware the Siren’s song.

  Levi lives in a little house by the sea. Everyday he sails out near the white rocks to catch fish. 

  Hanji circles his boat. Her iridescent tail catching the light and reflecting deep purples and green. She sings her best song for him- the beautiful fisherman with the grey eyes. 

  "Don’t swim into the nets," he scolds and Hanji is taken aback. She thinks about her beautiful fisherman when he sails for home. And there's a familiar tugging that she feels in her gut. But the weather has taken a turn for the worse and she doesn’t see him near the white rocks. Not the next day nor the days after. She seeks the council of the waters and the waves carry her to shore. 

  There’s a storm raging. The windows are rattling against their frames. Lightning illuminates the skeletons of his house and there’s a persistent knocking that weaves in and out of the thunder. Levi takes the screaming kettle off the hobs. 

  He opens the door to her. She’s standing in the rain, hands wrapping around herself to shield from the cold. Levi’s gaze skims from the tip of her nose down to her bare chest, down to her long legs. He swallows thickly. She’s leaning against the frame of the door, shifting her weight from one unstable leg to another. Like a fawn learning to walk. He frowns but nevertheless, he leaves the door ajar for her to enter.

  “You’re gonna get the floors all wet...” he mutters. Rainwater he can manage. But seawater makes the floorboards a little sticky, and that annoys him deeply.

  “I told you I’ll come for you.” She says. 

  Levi shoves a towel in her face, “Dry yourself.” He pauses for a moment, taking in the shock on her face. “Please.” 

  Surprisingly, she does as she’s told, and when she’s done, she hands the towel back to him. 

  Levi finds her dry clothes, and she pinches and pulls at them, inspecting after she puts them on. 

  “I’m here to eat your heart lover boy.” 

  He considers her. It’s colder this time of year and the sea is relentless. But her skin is gold like honey, sun-kissed in a way that reminds Levi of summers and homemade jam and the grass beneath his feet. 

  “Levi.” He replies.

  Levi. she says, smile spreading across her face like butter on warm toast. 

  He shares his stew with her and she tells him her name is Hanji when her hands are warming by the fire. She looks at Levi, gaze washing over him like a wave. And there’s familiarity in the way his eyes soften when he looks at her. He looks at her like he's trying to call forth a string of memories tying her to him; him to her. But all he has is an affection for her that ripples through his consciousness. It's accompanied by the sounds of laughter- her laughter- and the pale shimmer of moonlight.  

  So she returns to him the next day, and the day after, and the days after that. 

  Hanji brings him little pieces of treasure. A conch shell, a dead sand dollar, bits of sea glass. Her legs grow stronger each time. She dances around his house. She pulls him flush against her chest and rests her chin atop his head and sways to a tune she’s humming. 

  Beware the Siren’s song, they say. 

  But they’re far from the white rocks and she’s laughing exactly like a lover would. The floorboards are creaking under their toes.

  He looks for her when he’s out at sea, and listens as she tells him stories of the depths, about the men who hurt her, about dying at sea, and about the promise of protection and rebirth.  

  When she wakes again, there's water in her lungs and she learns to breathe. To call the sea her home. 

  But maybe it's not by accident that she falls asleep in his arms one night, cocooned in white sheets that remind her of sea foam. 

  She kisses his nose in the morning and he blinks an eye open to look at her. “I’m gonna eat your heart lover boy...” Hanji teases, hair tickling his skin, the sight of him crossing the boundary between sleep and daybreak takes her breath away. 

  Levi smiles, pulling her closer, "stop moving so much..." he groans. It’s still early, they can still afford a little shut eye. He cradles her in his arms- a promise of protection. “You already have my heart,” comes his reply, in a moment of tenderness, and Hanji doesn't return to the waters. 

  ≋

  In others, the sea forces distance between them. 

  They don't meet in this life.

  But sure as waves reaching towards the shore, they meet in the one after.

  ≋

  They're in their second year of college but nothing really changes. 

  Except when it does, it happens so fast that Levi doesn't have time to breathe. The next time he takes a breath he's lying beside Hanji. They’re both sated and sleepy and Levi stills his breathing, coming down from his high. And Hanji thinks this life is nice. It's effortless in a way that reminds her that they are meant to be.

  The Marine Biologists have gathered for a nights out- a pub crawl to be specific. The entire course is decked in ridiculous outfits. There’s a merman somewhere, and a manatee, there’s even a sea snake (moray eel, Hanji clarifies). And Hanji is dressed as a shark. 

  Levi is there because he gets dragged along to everything that Hanji is a part of and he gets asked one too many times what his outfit is supposed to be. Because he’s in his jeans and a black top and he just looks- normal? 

  “He’s my next meal!” Hanji says and Levi pulls a face, he chokes out a, “shitty four eyes...” and he’s blushing a little more than he should because does she even hear herself?

  Halfway through the night Levi wonders why he’s so tipsy. This is really unlike him. He remembers meeting Hanji’s friend Moblit, whose Aquaman sends Hanji over the edge with laughter. He remembers hearing a round of “oh hey Levi!” (They all know who he is, after all, he’s often hanging around Hanji). Then the beer bong challenge. Oh right. The beer bong challenge... that’s why. Hanji won, at least he remembers that. 

  And he also remembers dancing with Hanji at the back of one of the pubs. “This is a good song...” he murmurs in her ear and she visibly shivers. But everything is spinning and the music is delicious, touching is also delicious, and they do just that. And at some point Levi must have just gone for it, because Hanji’s mouth is hot and inviting and Levi thinks he’s delirious so he surrenders to the feeling. 

  They’re back in Hanji’s room, only because it’s only a flight of stairs up and Levi is unzipping her ridiculous costume that surprising does little to ease his raging hard on. And Hanji, god forbid, isn’t wearing anything underneath. 

  His top comes off once they make it past the main door to her flat. Levi doesn’t even notice the mess in Hanji’s room as they navigate the narrow space and soon they're on the bed, hands moving in what is best described as a frenzy. 

  It feels so good and Levi finally admits to himself that he has been thinking about this for a while. And he’s almost relieved when Hanji kisses him and lets her want slide down his throat. 

  Levi wonders if they can still be considered friends. Last he’s checked friends don’t scream each other’s names the way Hanji is saying his name right now as she bites down on his shoulder. Plus, the whole best friends to lovers trope is just one big cliché. And yet, Levi doesn’t hate it. He has to admit it’s actually really nice. 

  The next morning Hanji finds Levi rummaging through her sink cupboard. 

  “My extra toothbrushes are the drawer.” She gestures towards the bottom drawer with her toe. They brush their teeth and they're sitting on the bed again, it's the only place for two to sit, really. 

  “So... Was it good for you?” Hanji says, a little amused with how the entire situation unfolded.  

 Levi clears his throat, face going red. “Would’ve been better if you weren’t wearing that stupid outfit...” He wants to say he's never felt this way with anyone before, but he doesn't. 

  “But hammerheads are cool!” Hanji protests and she’s pouting. Levi wonders if now’s a good time to kiss that stupid look off her face or if that’s too much.

  “Fucking one isn’t...” Levi mutters. Hanji throws her head back and laughs. 

  “So... What do we do now?” Levi asks. And Hanji shrugs saying a "admit we love each other and carry on with our lives?" like it had been obvious. 

  "Sounds good..." he says, smiling, and he thinks they deserve this effortlessness. 

 ≋

  Hanji comes back to him like ship returning to port. She thinks about meeting him when he's six and building sandcastles on the beach. He had ignored her attempt at conversation and Hanji had been a little annoyed.

  "You don't remember me do you?" She huffed, pout on her face, arms crossed. 

  Levi was confused, that definitely caught his attention, "do we know each other?" he asked. 

  "No," Hanji confessed, "no but... I know I'm supposed to meet you." She said with all the confidence a five year old can muster. Levi bickered with her. How can a five year old be so smug? He was a whole year older and he was by no means as confident. He didn't even know whether to pick sushi or pizza for lunch. 

  And she thinks about the night before she left. 

  "I like you Levi..." she had said. She willed herself not to cry, so there's a moment in which she's just chuckling humourlessly to herself. And Levi's scowls at her. "Inconvenient huh..." she added. She had to cross the ocean the next day on a voyage bound somewhere far away and this makes it that much harder.  

  Fucking inconvenient indeed...

  They don't make promises, but Hanji wishes they had. She wishes they would have at least addressed her little confession, because it's been eight years. Eight years of it gnawing at her brain and now it's just a little awkward. 

  Hanji takes a deep breath as she disembarks at port, her feet a little unsteady on dry land- like a fawn learning to walk again. But she sees him. And the knot in her chest unravels. Eight years. It's been too long. She takes tentative steps towards him, but soon she's running and enveloping him in a sweaty embrace. 

  He's whispering something, muffled because he's pressed into Hanji's clavicle-

  “Did you know seahorses mate for life?” 

  She smiles. Sure as the sun, he’s in her arms again. 

  Seahorses huh...

  ≋

  Hanji knows whatever life they've led, this is her favourite. 

  The one in which her and Levi see the sea for the first time together. 

  The one in which she’s the Commander, and him, her Captain. And between them, a river of words left unsaid threatening to break the banks. 

  One day they must cross the ocean, but today they visit the shores again, without the kids this time. And Levi learns why when he watches her peel at her clothes. Her harness comes off first, then her blouse, then everything else, like a little dance for an audience of one. Levi tries not to stare, but he’s already seen her by candlelight in the dead of the night. And yet she never fails to take his breath away. 

  She makes her way to where the white foams dredge the past up the shores of the present. 

  "Come on Levi! The water is warm!" she says, and he hears it like a call to come home- where the heavens collide with the sea. 

  He takes off his clothes and folds them in a neat pile beside Hanji's mess. He swims out to join her.

  The moonlight caresses her skin and this scene- this moment- is opulent. Levi unties the patch over her eye and lets the waters carry it away. She chuckles. "I'm never going to get that back am I?" she says, holding his hand and guiding him to shallower waters. 

  And Levi knows there's some poetry to the way she's kissing him. She tastes like saltwater and Summer all at once, and Levi thinks that he has never felt this way with anyone else. Will never feel this way about anyone else. Instead he glowers at her-

  “Hanji don’t you dare fucking die... I’ll never forgive you if you do... I swear I’ll-“ 

  Before Levi can continue, Hanji is laughing, sputtering as her head bobs below the surface of the water. 

  “Even if I do, you don’t have to say goodbye. I promise I’ll look for you in the next life... And the ones after...” She says, brushing the pad of her finger against his nose. The heavens and the sea bear witness. And Levi promises to follow her to the ends of the earth. 

  Treasure, he calls her, when the sound of white water crashing provide refuge for words that have little place in this life. Levi knows little of the words lovers say to each other, and even less of poetics, yet here he is with Hanji, sitting on the shores now, and watching salt crystal in her hair. He falls asleep that night to the sound of her breathing. And amidst dreams of roses and white foam,

  Levi is home. 

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 13)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

CHAPTER 12

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Your existence in their world had reasons. A purpose that involves the contentment that Geralt never found in the world that he was in. The feelings you have for your witcher makes you feel things that you haven’t experienced yet, desires that make you feel sorts of things as it also was a cause of the Cicatrix that laid in between your chest. The question is, were you on the same page as Geralt is? or was it just a misunderstanding prior to that night?

Warnings: Soft and smiley Geralt! (*rolls on the ground*), Sexual Implications, a needy reader, an annoying bard, MODERN references, mention of Divergent, grumpy Geralt, a soft-touchy-feely reader. FLOOFY chapter! Insecure reader tho. 😭 Harry potter and Lord of the Rings references. HAHA!

Words: 8.5k (Well, Hello long ass chapter)

A/N: THERE’S STILL CHAPTER 13.1 BEFORE THE SMUT. AHE. Sorry for the delay. Happy mother’s day to all the mothers out there! Y’all are the best and real superheroes! If this chapter didn’t make you smile, then this means I am a failure for everyone! 😂💖

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Disclaimer: PNG’s used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren’t from moi as well. GIF’s INCLUDED ARE CREDITED TO THOSE WHO MADE THEM! I DO NOT OWN THEM!

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

KISSING GERALT HAS BEEN SUCH A DREAM. The kiss felt like you were in seventh heaven and it also kept your mind wide awake the whole night; even with Geralt by your side with his lulling monster stories and those gentle fingers raking your hair like how he always does.

The gesture even made you a little more giddy than ever and Geralt didn't seem to mind as you've kept yourself wide awake; watching him sleep and never keeping him out of sight.

Though, he'd eventually covered those coy eyes of yours because it was bothering him; coaxing you to stop staring and just have your beauty slumber because you needed all the energy for your training.

A training that you thought would be for Cirilla because they've always had their swordplay fights before the sun rises and sometimes in the middle of a beautiful morning; as you watch Geralt in discreet as he wields his sword like how the waves move in the ocean. Very satisfying to ogle and observe.

The way he handles a sword was perfectly smooth and bland like how your coffee tastes in the morning.

Which is why your face was scrunched in peculiarity when he was done with Cirilla's training; giving the smaller silver sword to you with that reticent expression on his face; his habitual tight-lips now relaxed as he eyed you back with that tender gaze he holds whenever you were there.

An image you weren't used to; but may seem to wish it would be there forever because of how soft he appeared for you to see, not his usual brooding and serious persona.

"This is a very nice first date," you sarcastically muttered; wanting to scoff and whine from how unusual it was to receive training from the witcher like you were some sort of Tris Prior in the world of Divergents.

After the kiss last night, you've expected him to give you flowers, gifts, kisses or maybe more of his attention. Howbeit, you'd remember that you weren't in your world and that he wasn't a typical man who'd woo women like that. Geralt was probably a man whom women has been trying to court just to have his attention based on how beautiful and captivating he was.

Were you his beloved now? A girlfriend? his lover? you actually had no idea and chose to stay silent. Never asking anything more as to not ruin his good mood as he woke up in the morning.

Geralt didn't specifically told you anything about being his beloved. The only thing you understood in his words last night was that you were important to him and that he also cared.

Perhaps, he doesn't roll that way. The witcher wasn't particularly that type of man.

Therefore, you left it at that although it was dithering your heart. You were contented whether how ill-defined your position was in his heart.

"Why am I doing this again, Geralt?"

The latter silently watched you fidget with the sword on your hands, your cheeks puffed from how strange you thought his favors may be. He couldn't help but give you a beam that showed his teeth, his emotions thoroughly in a bliss after the night he confessed; parts of his aggression lifting up his chest, "The bard knows how to fight with his dagger," he adhered strictly to the fact, keeping the sword safely on his side.

Those lips of yours jutted in an opposing pout; your eyes seeming to connect with his spellbinding ones while he continued to wheedle, his cat-eyes curving into a soft shape of a crescent and you were totally enamored. Your heart skipping a beat when he was never breaking his gaze away; giving your stomach the heebie-jeebies, "---Cirilla is finally learning the techniques of using a sword,"

Your mouth was now turned into a tight-lipped one, shaking your head from the idea he wanted as you scrunched your nose further, "And I am better watching you and Cirilla have your little sword play fight," pause. "---I'm not going to fight anyone,"

You've continuously shook your head, tutting at the brilliant idea he'd tried to think of. Though, Geralt was adamant for his preposition; seeming to think the idea won't get you stabbing him accidentally or better yet, yourself.

"We can't be certain that there wouldn't be," he proclaimed, utterly determined.

You huffed out a frustrated breath, face falling right in the middle of the meadow as Geralt stood before you. His comely stature shining against the morning light and you were sure you've been blinded, "Right. Bad people are chasing you still,"

A bashful look has been unintentionally given to the witcher, lighting up an amused crooked smile and hum from the latter as he stayed completely taciturn, admiring the shy woman that stood before him.

You've suddenly felt him shift, turning your focus back at the Herculean, white haired Legolas as he'd languidly took a step back, looking calm and composed as he firmly ordered. His smile falling, turning all ruminative.

"Hit me."

More complaints were sent for what he requested, finding the whole ordeal somehow lamented because all you ever held was a pen, paper or laptops that certainly doesn't deal with people shedding blood unless you stab a pen at them. Sure, you've dreamt of fighting in combat in fantasy series or movies; but in your imagination, you were skilled. The version of yourself that you had in your dreams had talent and the one you have today only had idiotical abilities to plot your own demise because of how foolish you were in their world.

"Can't I fight with Jaskier?"

Geralt cocked his head to the side; in utter amusement as a small smile carved his pretty, luscious lips that grabbed all your attention. The witcher immediately noticed and had a smug glint in his amber eyes as he talked, "If you wish to annoy people and woo the king then he is excellent at it," pause. "---You wouldn't learn how to use a real sword from the bard. Unless, using a lute as a form of weapon in the middle of a royal banquet is your choice of fighting then Jaskier would do a great job,"

Thus, from the moment Geralt has made his utterance, Jaskier somehow had the luckiest time on planning to feed Roach as he emerged from the doorway, ceasing himself from sending a teasing ridicule as his name has been called in vain; backstabbing him by finding entertainment from how he tried shielding himself from the incident back in the years.

"I've never received any compliments from you don't you, witcher?" he hollered back, enclosing his mouth with a hand as he called from afar; a bucket full of Roach's food on the other.

Jaskier seen Geralt shake his head, a surprising beam drawing his face as the witcher playfully wisecracked out loud, "You don't need them, Jaskier."

The harmless banter made Jaskier pucker his lips in surprise, never anticipating how he'd gradually changed from being the brooding, reserved witcher to the grinning, active man he was seeing as he was teaching a woman who had no inspiration on learning the techniques of sword fighting.

Geralt simply turned his head to see you awkwardly holding onto the base of Cirilla's sword; having a gawky, hunched stance and the witcher took heed of it but chose not to correct it yet. You were dubious of even holding a sword and also a lot more hesitant as you've tried to strike a blow at his face. Without effort, he'd simply dodged the attack with one hand using minimal strength. The swords instantaneously crashing against each other with a satisfying ring of metals colliding.

Unfortunately, the weapon flew out of your hands as he'd dodged your strike, shamefully falling on the ground with a soft thud. Geralt snapped his eyes at the sword that fell from your hands before feeling his eyes turn to you, "Midget." he calmly scolded, having at least a massive amount of patience for you, "---Take it easy." you'd heard him advice. Baritone timbre soft but still rough which stirred that familiar warmth pooling just below your stomach; heart beat stumping upon your chest because of how you were worried it would obscenely pool in between your thighs. Just the thought of Geralt's presence kindled with the fire raging your insides.

You've never had felt any such strong desire for a man other than the witcher himself and it was beginning to grow frightening because of how you wanted him so bad; the kiss you had probably triggering something inside of you that didn't know it existed.

Maybe, it was probably horny hours like how you had them back in your apartment. The problem here was that you finally had a man to do it with, but you weren't sure if he also desired for you the same way as you do.

What if he only wanted you for companionship? Perhaps, he'll somehow find you boring like how your dates went back in earth when the time comes?

You didn't notice Geralt has grabbed onto the sword that flew right out of your hands, sauntering towards where you were and his presence lingering a little too close for those kindling flames aggravating that desire you had when his voice vibrated from behind.

"Also, try harder."

Despite of how enormously tall and brawny he was, the witcher leaned down to grab onto your hand, his rough fingers caressing yours that was sparking up the flames as it felt so gentle. He placed the handle of the sword onto your palm, delicately dragging the other to hold onto the base. Those calloused palms of his enclosing yours in a warm embrace as his warmth from behind seemed to turn more quenchless as time goes by, a sudden hunger flooding your system as your body turned putty with just a simple touch.

You've felt your throat run dry, stance turning standoffish when he'd loomed behind you. Heavily aware of his presence. Your voice cracking and stuttering as you mindlessly thought out loud, trying to wash the vulgar thoughts away, "I--I--I am! It's just that you've given me a real sword for practice!"

Geralt reiterated; utterly droning, "It's lighter than mine," with a simple raise of his brow as he stood behind you, his face inches close and you could feel his stare completely immense, making you look away from how flushed your face have been, "Even so! It can hurt anyone! Can't I learn witchcraft instead? I’ll be the potato version of Hermione Granger! It’s impossible that your world has no Voldemort! Expecto Patronum! Avada Kedavra!"

The preposition was hurriedly rejected with just Geralt's smile turning upside down; replaced with a scowl that coaxed you to turn your head to see him shaking his head with his face approximately close to yours; those amber eyes trying to melt your heart as he still had that vivid, affectionate dewdrop clustering in those peepers that provoked a satisfied sigh out of your ajar mouth.

His pitch suddenly turned austere; mouth tight-lipped as he quoted, "You will not use any ounce of sorcery from my world," you've seen the side of his lip turn into a smirk as he haughtily added, "---Alas, you are also too clumsy and impulsive for it,"

Geralt grudgingly moved his face an inch away; not before seeing a sight of him taking glimpses of your ajar lips as you awaited to be kissed by the witcher himself; howbeit, he chose to tease and ignored the accented feelings he had been trying to hide since the first day.

The latter surprisingly gave a chortle, his chuckle sounding heavenly amongst the birds chirping in the background, "How dare you?!"

He gave your hands consolatory pats as it was already surrounding the base of the sword. Geralt straightened his back, his thumbs casually giving the back of your hand a soft caress before taking heed of your silent squealing from his seraphic touches, "Hold the sword with your dominant hand, midget." before he took a step back away and muttering a mocking repartee, "---Maybe a Hirikka will be a better combatant than you,"

You've watched him waltzed back to where he was as he stood in front of you with a grin on his face, "I shouldn't have accepted your apology last night." you deadpanned with your eyebrows furrowed from how riled up and entirely flustered you were feeling early in the morning.

The witcher tipped his head with his smug grin, "You didn't. I just knew you would because you never get to have your nap without receiving cuddles and chill from me,"

You've feigned a gasp, unclasping your hold around the sword as you placed your palms around your hip, giving him a sassy posture of how you were appalling by the truth that he suddenly was giving; thoroughly surprised by his sudden pesky, frolic attitude he seemed to vibe. He was learning from your modern references and it shocked you even more.

"It was cold last night!"

"The night is also dark," He ridiculed and mocked what you've said to him last night while he was asking for forgiveness. His teeth slipped against the cardinal pillows of his lips, giving you a gorgeous toothy grin that made your breath hitch as if his aesthetics radiated off the sun light, "---You needed my warmth, midget."

A playful glare was sent to the witcher; intentionally keeping up with his mockeries as you gave a chuff and found his mischief rather entertaining because he rarely acts the way he is right now, "Are you a furnace? No. You aren't, Geralt of Rivia. Don't act like raking those fingers of yours through my hair doesn't help you sleep at night---"

"But, I'm your furnace amidst the benumbing night."

You couldn't help but giggle from his innocuous pick up line, utterly finding it amusing and endearing when you've understood it way differently despite of how ingenuous he wanted it to sound.

Their era and how they communicate was certainly giving you a good ol' laugh.

"Are you calling yourself hot?"

Geralt couldn't help but outstare; gawking from the dazzling laugh you've mindlessly given him. He was oblivious of his beguiling beams he has been making you see and the gaze that bewitched the morose of his spirit, puzzling how a mere person could take away the misery that has been haunting him since the moment his mother has left him alone to become a witcher in their world and a lot more great affliction he'd somehow experienced.

Presumably, your existence in their world had reasons.

Hence, the witcher knew it involved his happiness.

"Now, keep your stance firm," he snapped out of his daydream, gently tapping the tip of his sword on your thigh which erupted a squeak and a tiny whine from you, "---I can't always be with you when you are attacked by anyone who wants my family dead,"

You tilted your head to the side, cheekily wiggling your eyebrows as you grinned up at him like a Cheshire cat as he shook his head from your playfulness, "Did you just lowkey tell me that you treat me as family?"

"Would you want it to be that way then?"

Another failed attempt of giving a successful, strong blow has been swung towards the latter, easily stepping one foot back as he blocked the smite with one hand. Though, you hadn't let the sword fly out of your hands this time which Geralt considered as slight improvement for being taught in the first day.

"Hmm. Again." he'd given an entranced hum, giving a tight lipped smile as he affirmed and tried to wriggle out more strength from you because it was pretty much a reluctant strike as well.

You've straightened your back, keeping your feet loosely away from each other as you sighed an exasperated one. The sword falling on your side as you wanted a truce. Feckless of the pout you were giving to the witcher who was too persistent in giving your body an ache from the training. Geralt raised a brow, seeming to enjoy your whining and allegations from the moment he'd given you a sword.

"Stop puckering your lips like that. I'm not giving you a buss when you're acting like a chit,"

A buss. It sounded pretty much familiar as it was used in those romance books you've read back in earth. His straightforwardness tickling your spine in a delicious way that got you flustered for the tenth time this day. You know your eyebrows rose up till your hairline from how he was assuming things that were actually the truth, "Did that mean a kiss?! I--I wasn't asking for a kiss though!"

"Then, acting adorable won't let you get away from this."

You've groaned out loud; fighting yourself off from stomping your foot out in utter vexation from how he'd always seem to knew what you were thinking. Were you that obvious?

"I hate you,"

Geralt took a stroll towards you, thoroughly leaning down to your height with a cross of his prodigious arms; the sword still in his fist and watching how he'd closely stared into your eyes as he fought off a smile, "The hate is quite indistinct and difficult to tell after you've been kissed last night,"

Your heart wanted to burst from the embarrassment, feeling your face turning into flames. Just add a little bit of oil and people could probably fry anything they wanted to as they use your face as a pan.

Reprehension would have escaped your lips if a hand hasn't clutched onto the side of your neck, his hot breath assaulting your face before you've felt his lips on yours in a hot second; never giving you time to process everything as he broke the buss with a sweet, tinge sound that seemed more soundly in your ears rather than swords colliding in a battle.

His hand behind your nape left in haste, straightening his back and shoulders; acting like he hadn't done anything wrong nor he continued to act like he didn't even give you a small, plain peck to the lips that gave a startle and somehow positioned you into a blissful, heart exploding condition.

"You don't dislike me, midget." Geralt's expressions were indescribable. His features stoic for five seconds before seeing his lips turning into a gloaty smirk as he spun in his heels, leaving you dumbstruck from the surprise.

"G-GERALT! That's not fair!" you stood rooted on the ground, keeping your lips together as you smacked it out loud like you couldn't believe he'd given you another kiss to ruin your ovaries and focus.

He strolled along the meadow, his emotions flying elsewhere as he was entirely finding your reactions hilarious. Geralt walked the path back to where he stood before, turning around in face-front to see your face all red and giving him the stink-eye, "Nothing is ever fair. Now, use all your strength to hit me with your sword."

You tightly grabbed onto your sword with both hands, listening to how he'd told you it should be held and also thoroughly remembering the basics that he told you prior; keeping your stance better than the one you held a while ago, watching how his face lit up as yours turned serious and challenging, "Oh, I will! You're a cocky witcher today and it's annoying!"

Jaskier have fed Roach back in the stable, he walked back to the doorway to see Cirilla leaning her back on the stone walls, arms crossed with a smile that tells how amused she was as she watched how you were trying to strike a successful blow at the witcher who found your lack of knowledge utterly astonishing and endearing; regardless of how he has been fond of having lovers which were strongly independent and knew how to stay alive in a battle.

You were a paradox to his life. Utterly questionable as to why you have even arrived.

"He's not teaching her how to fight," Cirilla admitted towards the bard who subtly nodded beside her, also watching the quote training unquote that you had with the white wolf. Yet, both of them could see how his way of teaching seemed to be less harsh than how they've been taught. Totally aware of how he was also buoyant rather than serious and brooding.

It was like a different Geralt that loom before them as he tutted and shook his head to cease your reckless attempts of trying to hit him with the sword; grabbing onto your fingers to cease you as he explained with a relaxed face he'd given while all you could do was glare and huff back.

Jaskier gave a small smile, eyes narrowed from how the sunshine hits his face and mindlessly tapped the handle of the bucket with his index finger, "The witcher is flirting with the rat, probably want some bonking,"

The lion cub of Cintra gave him a once over, "Some what, bard?"

"Forget what I said,"

Cirilla brushed him off as she went on with her lurking, Something you said ignited a grin out of the witcher as he quietly listened to your rants and rambles about how annoying he have been, "Also, this is the first time I'd seen Geralt smiling like that again. I hope she doesn't leave. I'll do everything for her not to leave,"

The bard gave a nod of understanding. Deeply thinking as to why Cirilla would do everything in her willpower for you not to leave; hence, seeing the smile that Geralt has given you was a simple answer as to why you needed more protecting and a lot more time to stay. Would it be selfish of them when you probably had a family back in your world?

Thus, Jaskier's gaze lingered on you and saw how you giggled back at the witcher who has said something that made him scowl. The mere sight of you strumming along the rakish onslaught of his heart strings from the week that Geralt wasn't around bothered him but he chose the better of it and ignored.

"But, isn't it strange?---" he momentarily ceased, snapping his gaze away from you as Cirilla gave him a nasty lour for whatever thoughts he wanted to say out loud, "---That your step-mother would be pretty much smaller than you?"

The child loudly groaned in response, turning her back away from him as she pulled the doors to go in, "You are honestly the most irritating person in the continent,"

The day has been pretty much a blur. After being trained by the witcher no matter how many failed attempts you tried; his patience utterly high for you to even comprehend that he had a lofty tolerance for your inability to successfully strike a sword.

Your arms were somehow sore, considering the amount of attempts that Geralt has been repeatedly telling you to just hit him with all your might, yet being active in the battlefield will never be your forte. He tried giving you hope, downright telling you that it was normal and everyone improves sooner or later as long as your training had consistency.

You've been a bitchy-pants after the training. All catty and stopping yourself from sending a t-bird for the bard who received a snide remark and decided to send irritating teases that you were just being sexually frustrated.

Simply to say, Jaskier knew you were having your horny hours. That time of the day or that day of the week.

How'd he know? you had no idea. It was probably only his guesses as to why you were acting bitchy towards everyone except Kolby and Cirilla. You were being bitchy towards the men of the house especially at Geralt who has given you body soreness.

If only it was a different type of ache, you would probably not be bitchy.

A heavy sigh left your lips as you sat your back along the walls of the hallway, the only place where you've found peace because walking in the first floor even got you vexed because Jaskier seem to find your irritation amusing and had been running his mouth about how it was fine to just give in to your fantasies especially that the witcher probably had wanted it as well since the first day.

You were contemplating whether or not to turn on your cellphone; remembering how it was only at seventy-five percent. You've stared on your phone that rested on your hands, spinning it around as you were trying to fight off the kept fervor that has been insatiable and a bother when Geralt has given you one touch.

The feelings and emotions have been skyrocketing, it was already there even just from the start of your morning. However, after going home from the Djinn troubles, it started doubling and began to grow bestial like a monster wanted to come out of your chest from how you badly needed the witcher.

It just wasn't normal.

Geralt was entirely aware of your vexation. Though, he was meters apart from you and was actually outside to take care of Roach. Inside his chest, he felt an ounce of disturbance with the help of your irritations and frustrations; the sensations coming back again and the witcher still had no idea why.

He knew where you were and decided to find you. Finding a midget hunched in the middle of the hallways with her brows tightly furrowed, a worried pout on her face and blown cheeks as you fidgeted with your phone.

Geralt fought the urge of smirking and just sauntered to where you were, his heart beat beating in blissful thumps that got him wondering how it was even possible in just the sight of you.

You've felt his presence looming before your stooping form, a stink eye was given to the witcher who crouched in front of you, his burning gaze solely on you as he cocked his head to the side, observing your face and the state you were in with a smile growing on his face.

"You're annoyed." he artlessly admitted, never risking to leave your sight.

You scoffed, shaking your head as you felt the burning desire grow even further, turning away to help your poor little heart from feeling more bothered than it ever intended to, "How'd you know, Legolas?"

The nasally mention of that nickname you had for him got Geralt frowning. His forehead creased to the extent that he seemed to be thinking rather too deeply as to who this Legolas was and why were you even calling him that.

"---and now you're the one annoyed,"

Geralt kept his lips in a tight firm line. Amber peepers shining in dissatisfaction.

You brushed off his noncommittal reaction; already used to his lethargic norms as you complained about his infuriating friend, "It's Jaskier! He's annoying me since this morning!"

He just continued to give you a listless look, giving a displeased hum as he wholeheartedly let you rant to him.

Then, you added, "---Just his breathing irks me!" which only a hum was the only word you've received again, "Hmm."

You've irritatingly grunted, giving him a glout as you also kvetched, "Stop the humming! You're annoying me as well! You've been annoying me too since this morning!"

Your cavils has stirred a defeated sigh from the latter. His sudden actions obviously had reasons as to why you were abruptly being trained with a weapon. If only he hadn't brought you with them in the marketplace and haven't run into Tybalt then gallants weren't supposed to be searching for you by fair means or foul.

"What did I do this time?" he lowly grumbled, utterly dead beat. A faint, crooked smile raising those lips of his. You've held onto your phone a little more tighter, feeble arms crossed in front of your chest as he simply gave you his attention that you somehow yearn a lot, "You and Jaskier can stay in one room together while I sleep in yours! Men are so annoying! Always have been!"

Geralt's features appeared to be of someone who was suddenly bothered at the understanding of your statement, his listening comprehension twisting whatever it is that you've said as he skeptically appalled, "You have been with other men?"

Your face twisted in a tight cringe, bewildered by his presumptions that sounded like he was telling that you had a lot of men back in the days or basically his words were telling you that he couldn't believe that you actually had a man before. You've given him at least ten seconds of you just giving him a displeased flicker of your eyes before the white haired witcher proceeded with his remarks.

"Also, are you threatening me in my own home? You're kicking me out of my own chambers?"

An innocent nod was given to Geralt. The witcher simply gave an enervated blink, hearing a serious growl buzzed out of his chest; scrutinizing for whatever your eyes held out to him. The intensified gaze of his peepers searing that says he needed your sincere answers.

"This...Legolas you have been calling me," pause. "--- Do I remind you of your previous lover?"

You waited for more additional questions or perhaps a moment where he could tell you that he was just joking around. However, the intimidating, gargantuan monster-slayer who was crouched before you; never said that he was just giving out any jocularity of his previous light-hearted demeanor as he was all brooding again.

He fervently stared you down, making you shift on the floor as you looked up into his eyes; mirth surrounding the windows to your soul when he didn't budge after you've given him an guileless beam, "Yeah. Pfft. Earth also has their own witcher slash elves---What? Oh my God, this is funny."

Geralt is all wordless and silent; awaiting for whatever explanations you could give him and you couldn't help but ask in a skeptical manner; bizarrely gasping for his seriousness.

"Wait, you're actually---stop giving me a scowl! I never had...one? He's a Lord of the Rings character and I swear to God, he is fictional---Not real! Though, he looks like you because the hair and such---but---" you've jumped from one thought to another, feeling the scrutiny under his gaze and obviously nervous that he appeared to look like he would grab his sword and look for the man to behead him. Though, it will never happen due that Legolas was entirely fictitious to even start.

You ceased yourself from trying to explain the background story of Legolas for Geralt. Your nerves getting the best of you whenever you were being interrogated. An exhale of breath escaped your lips as you took a good look at the grimacing witcher before witlessly reaching onto his face with your palms on either side of his chiseled face as you gave him your best doe-eyes, sweetly trying not to coo at how his brooding demeanor actually makes him look fetching nevertheless.

"Stop being mad at me," you buttered his silence up with a tender tone of yours and the way he scrunched his nose and appeared to be looking bizarre tells you that your sweet-talking was cringe-worthy because of how you probably never knew how to simmer a man's troubled day.

Or he was just not used to gentleness.

You've retracted your hands away from Geralt's face and tried your best in avoiding those questioning and bemused eyes of his as you abruptly stood on your feet, shamefully rubbing your nape as you had yourself wincing from the second hand embarrassment of treating Geralt like he was some soft baby, reminding yourself to never do it again, "I am embarrassing myself,"

At the time you've stood up, Geralt also has been on one's feet. He didn't mean to look at you weirdly as you've cupped his face with that tender gaze inside your eyes. When the moment your delicate fingers brushed his, he felt as if he was in utopia. The man wasn't just used to intimate touches especially your caresses that felt like Gossamer.

Geralt just wasn't used to people treating him like he was actually human instead of someone who deserved to be treated differently.

Only Renfri, Yennefer and you had this effect on him. Though, with yours seemed to be much stronger.

Your panicking state urged you to flee from his presence, but the witcher wasn't going to let you go that easily as he'd caught your wrist; gently pulling you as your back hit the wall. Both hands and fingers scooping your neck like a baby chicken he'd caught and decided to take care of as his his warm touch skimmed till his thumbs brushed against your jaw, carefully urging you to peer up into those amiable gazes he successfully tries to give.

"I'm not mad." he dearly reassured, his small smile bringing your heart into euphoria because he was much more beautiful this way; smiling as if the world hasn't condemned him with an ill-fate of being a witcher.

Your beams were difficult to fight off; immediately giving him a smile as he also did as well. Chiefly, only giving you the sight of his crinkled eyes. His thumbs tenderly caressing your jaw which coaxed you to calm down from being fidgety which was totally a good medicine because your nervous jitters actually ceased with just his gentle touches.

You've grabbed onto his hand, memorizing his soft features as it was ever been a rare sight. Never believing he was acting the way he right now towards you. Your fingers brushing against his hands like a feather tickling the witcher's sanity.

Before another utter cockblocker slash disturbance came trudging up the staircase and somehow found you both in an heartfelt position; with Geralt cradling your face like no other.

"Oh! Ughm, this is a rare sight." Jaskier ceased his steps, midway through the hall, the bard's growing grin seeming to give you jitters as his ridicule began, "---and the small rat has been sexually frustrated, Geralt!"

You just wanted to strangle him sometimes.

"Cot damn it, Jaskier! SHUT UP!" you exclaimed, totally flustered as Geralt dropped his hands to the side; looking between you and Jaskier in ponder; those eyes of his full of curiosity, "You're...?"

"I AM NOT FEELING SMUTTY!"

If only you could dig and cover yourself up from the embarrassment, you would.

"---Smutty."

"You get my point, Geralt! I know you do!"

Geralt had his forehead in a tight wrinkle, thoroughly thinking what you meant; though, he understood none because the word seem to be peculiar, "Midget."

Jaskier exhaled an exasperated breath, dramatically rolling his eyes as he waved you both off and curved right pass between the both of you, entering his chambers to grab onto some clothes because he wanted to bathe.

The bard pointed a finger as he walked off, his hips swaying as he does so and never looking back, "She needs some nightly penetrating! You're welcome, witcher!"

Geralt watched Jaskier leave, an amused pucker of his lips was the answer to your questions that he certainly understood everything now and cocked his head to the side, peering you down as he awaited for an explanation. Yet, all he saw was you covering your blushing face with a guilty, forced smile as you washed your face in frustration to give him your regretful eyes.

"Don't listen to him," you quoted and begged for him to just take the bait.

Nevertheless, you've seen him raise a hand; about to start talking about being one horny woman for him when you've stopped him midway and tried to shift the topic away, "Anyways, I forgive you, Geralt. Now, can I braid your hair?"

The witcher closed his ajar mouth, humming in wonder as he dropped his hand to the side; narrowing his gaze at you, "I wasn't asking for any of your forgiveness."

You've blinked back at him, jutting your lips together as you looked away, tone teasing and slightly threatening, "You sure that's your final answer? No regrets?"

Geralt roughly puffed out a breath, muttering profanities beneath his chest, "Fuck." and another grunt because he'd remember how he still wasn't forgiven by yelling at you for last night, "---Fine. Do I have a choice?"

Your smile turned into a knavish grin, wanting him to regret why he even agreed to whatever plans you have for him as you bluntly answered.

"No."

The one you had in mind, planning for a simple diversion for Geralt to erase the horrid truth that Jaskier has told out loud for him to hear was actually another rabbit hole that had caught your feet, catching you going far down the pit like you have been scammed. Clearly, because Geralt's unwitting deep groans and hums has made you hot and bothered every time you've tried combing his hair along his snowy locks.

You were wincing every time he has his nose flaring whenever your fingers thread along his hair, the knots giving his head a rough yank from how you were trying to untangle those knots.

Geralt sat on the floor; his arms on either side of the bed. With you who sat on the bed and your legs criss-cross behind his impressive, thewy back; tempted to just give him a big hug because he seemed so comforting but chose not to based on how grouchy he became once you've combed his hair with your fingers.

You didn't even know if he was irritated or somehow liking the whole situation because he was deeply growling, groaning and eventually having to hear a slip of guttural, restrained whimpers that caught your ears. Enlivening that cravings and curiosity you had for some human touch.

"Midget..." he grumbled another complain and lowly warned, hearing the baritone growl he'd ought for you to hear which made you ignore his protests as you had your own protestations as well, "Stop complaining. Also, don't you own a comb? Your hair---It's---Oh! I'm sorry! Can you please stop growling and moaning at the same time!"

His head was minimally pulled back because of your reckless combing. Your nose scrunched even more as you'd received another menacing hum that tells he was close to hitting your face with a pillow because of how rough you were taking care of his hair. It's not that you weren't rough, but the locks in his hair was frustrating you to the highest.

"Hmm."

You subtly leaned down, sneaking your head to the side of his face to see his expressions void of emotions. The typical Geralt whom you've met as he felt your presence nearer, he'd turned his head to give you a lackadaisical look in his eyes that tells that you were stressing him out.

Your eyes twinkled apologetically as you had no problem in receiving a glare from the fussed out witcher. "Well, that sounds like a displeased hum," you stated as a matter of fact, shrugging your shoulders before straightening your spine and grabbing onto his Ivory roots again, "---and a different kind as well,"

He sighed in defeated, letting you handle his hair in spite as he simply closed his eyes. There was no more backing out as he was now sat in front of you, hair all untied as you've threatened to cut his hair with a scissor you've managed to have that was sat beside you.

"Bad kitty! You're liking this, aren't you? You like your hair being pulled!"

No answer was received and you left it at that. Thinking that maybe he wanted silence as you went on with brushing his hair with your fingers. Now, all gentle as the tangles were already free from the knots. It was certainly improvement; in Geralt's side because he stopped complaining after you scolded him so and quietly waited for you to finish; showing like he trusted you with his hair or whatever.

With a gentle tuck of his hair behind his ears, the witcher was all putty on your hands. Hearing a low rumble that resonated off him in pleasure and satisfaction because of how your touch was sending torment to the cravings he had for you.

Hence, his patience and respect he had for not throwing you over the bed and just relishing in with those insatiable desires he had for you needed and deserved an applause because of his high-capacity to resist the mania.

His appetite was surely in a famished mayhem as he breathed in slow and deep, your gentle touches that raked through his roots and his cravings growing more and more uncontrollable with each passing day and night.

Maybe, the scar you had on your chest had effects. Lewd effects for the both of you.

After minutes of comfortable---well, aching moments for Geralt; you've heard him mutter through gritted teeth in the midst of his slow breathing, "I'm not a cat."

You were already at the ends of his Ivory hair, simply braiding them in perfection as you objected, "But, you are! My grumpy kitty!"

There was no response again and you focused on braiding his marvelous hair and let the silence flow. You were actually just hearing him breath as it also calmed your nerves; a bewildering occurrence on how one's breathing could simply put you in peace.

You've grabbed onto his black ponytail which seemed to be owned by Cirilla and tightly tied onto the ends. Small hairs that seemed to not be possible in tying them down were imperfectly out of its nest; though, the ruggish effect it gave was actually making it look perfect for him.

"There! Done!" you mirthfully exclaimed, giving out a tiny tee-hee before you recklessly surrounded your arms around his musclebound shoulders. The irresistible urges just telling you to cease from being shy even just for today and be more of your unshackled self; stepping out of your timid borders every once in a while. It surprised the witcher with your touchy-feely attitude as his body went stiff when you've embraced him from behind, "See? I told you! You'll still look beautiful with your hair braided! Now, payment time, mister!"

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, clicking his tongue as he tried to find any words to say from your hasty, sweet gestures while he was not one who is used to receiving such care. Geralt had no words to say, his mind going in a haywire as he suddenly saw your palms in front of his face, begging like a peasant with your face nuzzled to his side as he weirdly stared at your palm.

"You want coins?" he skeptically questioned, your warmth and scent crashing his ability to think straight. You've dropped your arm around his shoulders, your actions seeming to surprise you as well but you paid no heed and just wanted him closer; his warmth insatiable as you hugged Geralt tighter. Your warm touches giving his body to adjust and be used to it as you felt him slowly relaxing against your hold.

You peeked from the side of his face, giving him a twinkle of those vindicated eyes as he languidly turned his head to see you giving such a naive look that he couldn't help but be fond of everyday. If it would take his hair to be braided for you to sweetly look at him like how you do right now; he would take the risk on letting his hair get yanked, "I don't know. Whatever payment you have in mind---I would love it,"

Faces were inches apart. You've seen the way his eyes glow in sudden mischief. His risquè suggestion making your heart warm in a way that got your ravenousness fueled as your face felt the blush and sudden excitement, "The one I have in mind is quite unseemly for your chastity,"

You gave a giggle, always loving how he'd intensely stare into your eyes like you've given light to his darkness; that type of glow inside his eyes that got your insides churning whenever he does, "Aren't you playful and naughty today, Geralt?!"

Geralt gave a tight-lipped smile; knowing you wouldn't accept his ravenous suggestion because of particular things he knew about. The witcher knew he wasn't wrong, he can never be wrong by what he was sensing.

However, a rare smirk was promptly shown, the ingenuous flicker inside your eyes changing in just a snap of one's fingers as it turned suggestive and playful, "What if I actually want that?"

It was what your heart wants and what those voices inside your head has been whispering. The mere idea of Geralt defiling your chastity that you have been treasuring because no other men deserved was utterly thrilling and worth it.

Not because of the thought that he was striking, but he was the only man you've wholeheartedly trusted and probably have given your heart like he was a king no matter how unsure of what you were in his life.

Closer and closer, you went in for the kill. Just his golden peepers alone was enough to pull you into a hypnotizing trance as you closed the space between you both, landing your lips to his in a soft, birdsweet peck that got you insides melting and the desire rapidly coming back in scorching flames, "I thought you wanted to indulge my curiosity all night long?"

Your words were temptingly drawled slower as your warm breath hit those ajar lips of his, an impenetrable haze in his eyes that suddenly brought uncertainty to what Geralt actually meant the last time you had the bathroom moment, your sudden confidence kind of wavering but still you've wanted to see how he was fond of you the way you also had your affections for him, "When I told you I was curious, it’s true, Geralt."

You've brushed your lips together and felt the witcher sigh before you had given one last honeyed kiss to his lips in which Geralt had puckered back, raising your hopes that he was solicitous about you.

'More,' his consciousness and emotions echoed, kissing you back with the same tenderness you held for him. He seemed like he was about to deepen the kiss; breathing through his luscious lips before you've felt the pillowy vermillion brush against yours as he abruptly ceased, hearing him lowly growl as he kept the tip of his nose, touching yours in an eskimo kiss before slowly pulling away to your disappointment.

The hesitation of wanting to deepen the kiss shot a sting to your heart; your overthinking self reading his actions that you've misunderstood his feelings that it was downright doting because you were head over heels for him after quite sometime.

But, hearing his next words immediately brought a weight down your chest, feeling the ineptness, dismay and shame for even suggesting lechorous behaviors that made you feel shameful because you think that it was rejected; thinking he rejected you.

He bedded tons of women. So, what makes you different?

You probably just weren't worth it.

"You don't mean that," Geralt lowly grumbled, his robust shoulders moving from how deeply he was breathing; ceasing himself from doing anything more further as the witcher continued to dispassionately utter, "---I don't deserve it,"

You hardly ignored the shame trying to strangle you into feeling such tightness around your throat as you unlatched your arms around his shoulders, skeptically eyeing the witcher who avoided your eyes, "What do you mean you don't deserve it, Geralt? You do,"

Were you desperate? Was the irresistible sensations making you act this way? Maybe. Howbeit, you would never regret every little thing you do for Geralt because it was what your heart has been telling you to do and not just your impulsive decisions.

Yet, the more he'd talk; it felt like as if the only thing you would regret was asking him what he meant.

Geralt heavily swallowed, jaw tightening as he apathetically muttered, "I'm guessing it's the Djinn's work that is talking,"

His response to your question ignited such ferocity inside your heart, shooting straight to your mouth as you couldn't believe what you were hearing. Did you misunderstood everything he has said when you were important to him? Deeply thinking that him and you were actually in the same page when his gestures and words right now seem to be the opposite?

"Are you saying that what I feel about you isn't true?" you questioned in disbelief. The scoff automatically being done as you've seen the tight scowl that Geralt has managed to put up again, "---That it's all...magic? The thing happening between us?"

You've tightly bit the insides of your cheeks, watching him stay silent and cease from opening up to you as he went on in avoiding your gaze and looking like he was the one who'd been rejected when it was you.

Thus, a continuation of your vulnerability went on despite of his stillness, your honesty probably will rue once it was said and done, "---before the Djinn even happened, you've been clouding my mind since then," a breathless pause. "---Since the first day I've been here, it felt like I was bound to fall for you, Probably, because the reason why I'm here is because...you are also here,"

Your candor has gotten the best of you and when Geralt was about to open his mouth for whatever that he wanted to say, your anxiety has managed to take over as you stood up from the bed in haste, feeling your palms tickle in humility from how everything that has been planned went down the hill because you misunderstood everything.

"Midget---"

You tightly swallowed the tightness stuck in your throat, finally feeling his gaze on you but you chose to look away; eyes now downcast as your toes fidgeted inside your boots, voice cracking when the apprehension was starting to take a toll as it was harshly plucking with your heart strings, "It's fine. We're just probably not on the same page yet and I understand why. Who would want me even?"

Geralt has been ruffled by your sudden assumptions, yet he chose to stay silent and be upset by whatever lies he'd been hearing; only having the actions to grit his teeth together as you restlessly tried your best to steer clear of your own dismayed feelings.

You shuffled on your feet, briskly walking towards the door before giving him a faltering gaze of yours as you awkwardly pointed at his perfectly braided hair while you stammered and tried to get a hold of yourself from the mortifying, stinging shame, "It's probably just...the genie effects doing these effects on me---I'll go apologize to Jaskier or something---Don't take that off, okay?!"

Hence, Geralt could only watch you leave as it was obvious that he'd upset you by his complicated behavior. Thus, leaving his heart stinging as well; feeling the same way as you.

Y’ALL ARE PROLLY CURSING ME FOR MAKING AN ADDITIONAL CHAPTER 13.1 AHONHONHONHON XD (Strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you, buddy! Please do check your settings, bb! Thank you!)

Taglist: @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @vania-marie @spookypeachx​ @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-starfleet @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernatural @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer​​ @marvelousell​​ @kingniazx​​ @angelias134​​ @tapismyforte​​ @chook007​​ @covid-donotenter​​ @winter-moons​ @cheesecakeisapie​​ @silverkitten547​​​ @angelofthorr​ @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum​​ @stuckupstucky​​

[calif0rnia-lovers]

old ways, new crown.

Request: Arthur and his round table + “I’ve missed you” kiss

Summary: With his new responsibilities, Arthur wants nothing more than a few moments alone with his perspective queen -- he’s still working on the perspective queen bit -- so he makes a point to get her alone when she arrives at the castle. He’ll figure out how to tell his best friend that he loves his sister at a different time.   

a/n: all of these Hunnam requests will surely be the death of me. but, seriously, keep them coming because I’m shameless.

words: 2,267

The sun is shining down on Camelot. Many claim it is due to the kingdom’s rightful heir sitting on his throne. The darkness of Vortigern has left the land inspiring newfound hope. A hope which promises a prosperous and fair future. A hope that has quickly spread beyond the walls of Camelot, and to kingdoms of many afar.

With rumors of the Boy King rising, from the slummy streets of Londinium, nobility from far and wide needed to confirm for themselves. Arthur is never one to shy away from a challenge, so he had Sir Bedivere draw up invitations for his prospective allies.

For the first time, in a long time, Camelot is hosting outsiders. The castle has transformed before Arthur’s eyes in a matter of a few short weeks.

The only moments he had to himself were in the early morning when he arose earlier than his friends.

It is on one of those early mornings that Arthur finds Elaine.

He passes the great hall, the cracked door causing him to slowly backtrack.

As he steps closer, he can hear the soft click of her shoes across the freshly washed floors. He gently guides the door open, wide enough for him to slip through, and joins her.

She doesn't initially sense his presence. Her focus is on the high ceiling above her. Her eyes following the sunlight as it pours into the room.

Taking a further step inside, Arthur looks over the room. The hall has been transformed overnight. Flowers adorn the pillars that rise to the high ceiling. Long polished tables have been neatly lined along both sides of the hall. An adequate amount of space has been left to form a walkway that leads directly to his throne. He knows that in a few hours, the hall will be filled with strangers.

Arthur allows his gaze to return to Elaine who is across the room, her back to him.

Dressed in her white sleeping gown, she silently studies the wooden round table before her.

“You haven’t been avoiding me, have you, sweetheart?”

The sound of his voice causes Elaine’s heart to leap in her chest. Her fingers pull back from the table, instinctively moving to hide behind her back. The smirk on Arthur’s lips morphs into a grin at the action. She turns to face him, her bright eyes briefly meeting his.

The initial guilty expression on her face quickly fades as a soft smile widens across her lips. Growing up with Arthur, she has learned the art of keeping her composure.

“In a place like this? That’s impossible. I’ve gotten lost four times this morning alone. I couldn’t run from you even if I knew where you were.”

Despite the innocence of her voice, Arthur finds his brow furrowing as he advances further into the room. His gaze lingers on her, their days apart seeming to leave his mind on withdrawal of her features. He studies her face for a moment. Passing over her dark brown eyes, along the curve of her nose, the softness of her lips and cheeks. His gaze follows her fingers as they instinctively reach up to brush against the natural curls of her dark hair. A soft smile finds his lips as Arthur's gaze returns to her mouth. The one thought he knew he was supposed to push away came creeping back in.

He knew he was supposed to have that "talk" he'd promised Wet Stick they would have regarding his sister. Only, before he could do so Arthur found himself tossed on the boat and forced to retrieve his brand. And their lives had changed forever.

The last time he'd seen Elaine, Arthur was half asleep. His eyes fighting his brain's pleas for sleep. His fingers were tangled in the softness of her hair, his lips brushing against the curve of her nose. She was slipping into slumber. He only managed to stay up a few seconds after her. When she'd awaken he was gone.

He watches her teeth tug at her bottom lip as Elaine suppresses whatever she had intended to say. Her brow furrows, her gaze passing over his clothes before his face. He found himself wondering what changes she saw in him.

“You wouldn’t be lost if you accepted my invitation for a personal tour guide.”

Heat spreads across Elaine’s cheeks as Arthur’s words dangle in the air. She can't pretend that she hasn’t received Arthur’s invitations. Numerous handmaidens have been sent for her. Each carried the request for Elaine to join the king, and each request was sent back with the same answer.

“I figured you wouldn’t have time for me anymore." She speaks softly, her gaze leaving his as she turns back to the roundtable. A smile finds her lips as she glimpses over her shoulder at him. "With you inheriting an entire kingdom...a new fancy crown…”

"I’ll always have time for you, darling."

Denying the warmth that flows across her cheeks at the teasing nature of his words, Elaine listens to Arthur's footsteps cross the room. She glances over at him once he comes to a stop by her side. The warmth that once had resonated in her cheeks spreads across every inch of her body as he steals a glance at her.

His shoulder grazes against hers, his fingers naturally reaching to find hers. Turning to face him, Elaine smiles as Arthur's gaze drift down to her lips.  

“So, this is where you’ve been spending all of your time?”  Elaine takes a step back detangling her fingers from his. Motioning to the large table, she moves around it placing a distance between them. "Building a...round table?”

“It’s not just any table,” Arthur answers the smile on his lips arching her brow.

A soft gasp escapes her mouth. A playful gleam passing through Elaine’s eyes as they widen.

“Wait, don’t tell me. It has magical powers just like that fancy sword of yours?”

Grinning, Arthur watches her fingers outline the intricate designs carved into the surface of the table.

"We could test it out?” Arthur teases, the soft roll of her eyes not deterring his words. “Isn’t the best way to learn the truth to seek it out yourself?"

Rumors had swirled about the castle in regards to Arthur’s Round Table. The servants whispered about it in the halls, speculated about its purpose. Of course, stories had spilled into the streets of the kingdom.

“Don’t I have to be a knight to sit here?" Elaine giggles as her brother's new title drifts into her mind. Her gaze raises to meet Arthur's. Her hand lifts to playfully rest against her chest. "Are you going to knight me, sire?"

Arthur's shoulders nonchalantly rise and fall as he slowly makes his way around the table, closer to her.

"I can give you whatever you want, Ellie."

"Whatever I want?" She challenges.

"I am a king after all."

Elaine's gaze playfully narrows in doubt as a very familiar smile spreads across Arthur's lips.

“What’s the catch?”

"Catch?"

"There’s always a catch with you,” she giggles.

"Nothing...I believe in being fair. I do something for you, you do something for me."

"Oh, I see," she sighs. Her hands finding his shoulders as Arthur's arm skillfully secures around her waist. She slips out of his touch as his lips gently graze the warmth of her neck. But, even as she moves away, Arthur has already seen the smile his actions have brought about. “See. I knew it. You may be the king, and that’s still up in the air, but you’re still Arthur.”

“I’ve had trouble getting this particular thought out of my head,” Arthur shares, his words causing her to shoot him an inquisitive look. “What you would look like sprawled across my masterpiece."

Despite the heat his words set across her skin, Elaine manages to scrunch her nose.

"You consider this a masterpiece?" Her fingers trace the smooth surface. Her playful gaze reaching his as she pauses. She pauses where she is as he moves to meet her. "It looks like an...incomplete table if you ask me."

"Maybe you're right," Arthur chuckles as his hands find her waist. His fingers gently dig into her skin as she instinctively melts into him. "It might not be a masterpiece, at least not when compared to you."

The warmth of his lips upon her neck causes Elaine's eyes to flutter shut. He focuses on kissing her pulse, as her fingers drift into the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I've been trying to get the thoughts out of my head," he murmurs, his touch drifting along the curve of her spine. "How you’d sound in this grand room...How’d your voice would echo off the high ceilings...If it would travel throughout the palace..."

The rising and falling of her chest seem pale compared to the racing of her heart. Arthur's smile caresses against the curve of her jaw, his mouth moving to the spot on her neck that tightens her fingers against his shoulders.

"You’ve always had a great imagination," she teases. Her voice is breathless, the drifting of her touch to his chest urging him to remove any remaining distance between their bodies. "Use that."

"Where’s the fun in that? I prefer reality far better than dreams.”

And had he’d had dreams. Hundreds of them since her arrival at the castle. The mage was right, the dreams -- nightmares -- that had haunted him most of his life, no longer plagued Arthur. Upon the acceptance of his destiny, and melding of his soul to Excalibar, Arthur had been dreamless for a few days. Then word from Tristan came that Elaine was to arrive at the castle. From that moment on, Arthur spent his nights dreaming of her. Waking, without fail, every morning covered in sweat and the need for a new set of undergarments.

From the moment of her arrival, he was finding it more difficult to get her alone. It was hard to look at her without his fantasies plaguing his thoughts. It didn't help that she had chosen to be inseparable from her brother, and his best friend.

“Besides, do you think I’d let you kiss me after how you left things?”

Elaine takes a step back, her palms pressing against the table. Pushing herself up, she takes a seat atop of the table. Scooting back, she watches Arthur's brow raise.

“I was trying to protect you.” He speaks, the movement of her hands gathering the fabric of her gown distracting him. He knew he owed her an explanation. He had left her to meet Vortigern after she'd begged him not to.

“I've never needed protection. Haven't you figured that out?"

"I never listen," Arthur challenges. His tongue wets his lips as Elaine's guides the fabric of her gown up to her thighs.  

“Now that you’re king,” she asks, her voice pulling Arthur's gaze from her recently exposed skin. “I’d thought you'd be busy courting a princess from some exotic land."

Shaking his head, Arthur allows his touch to drift along the warmth of her thighs. His eyes drift shut as he pulls her body closer to his.

"You're still the only one," he breathes, his words faltering against her lips as she leans forward to kiss him.

Her body shivers beneath his touch as it ghosts over her thighs, shoving the fabric towards her waist. He guides her legs around his waist, his teeth tugging against the softness of her lips once her touch drifts to his waistband.

It wasn’t the first kiss they shared, and surely not the last.

Their first had come on her fifteenth birthday. It was rushed and had taken place behind the door of her bedroom. It ended quickly when Wet-slick's call for Arthur drifted up the steps. Arthur had taken her by surprise. The kiss had come and gone so quickly, Elaine spent the entire night wondering if it had ever happened. But then found she never allowed another boy to kiss her again.

Ever since that first kiss, their kisses always seemed to come naturally. Which is why it doesn't take long for Arthur to find himself inside of her. All of his cocky and snark marks lost upon him as he admires how she opens herself to him. His lips burn her neck and lips as he pulls a gasp from her once he tugs at the base of her spine pulling her closer. The shifts in their bodies cause him to move deeper their weight tipping back until she tugs him down on top of her.

Their bodies move in perfect unison. Everything they had wished to say to one another before they parted weeks earlier spilling out. The connection they'd spent a lifetime trying to suppress and deny rising to the surface as his lips whispered the words he'd always struggled to get out.

Even once they've both come down from their highs, Arthur finds himself incapable of removing his lips from the warmth of her skin.

Elaine's fingers lightly trace through his hair, a smile finding her lips.

"You should let me get up," she speaks softly as his lips press against her neck. "Wouldn't want someone to walk in and find their beloved king in such a compromising position."

"Let them," Arthur mumbles against her lips. Stealing a second kiss, he lifts his head. The grin on his lips causes her eyes to narrow. "Does this mean you’ll sit with me tonight?”

The soft giggle Elaine releases are muffled by the soft kiss Arthur places against her lips.

[archadianskies]

pas de deux

→ on Ao3

@dbhrarepairs​ Friday Day 5: Longing • Mirrors; post-revolution North/Chloe

Individuality is a new concept to deviants, and something North’s embraced. It’s different, though, when one seeks to stand out when one exists in multitudes versus someone who’s always been an individual; there are a thousand WR400s with her faceplate in Michigan alone and there is, and always will be, just one RT600. Chloe is the first, the last, the only, and North can’t go more than an hour without seeing someone with her exact same face.

During the revolution North had started to change her hair, adding more and more red to it so it was a vibrant strawberry blonde. It’s something she has control over, that and her makeup though she leaves those settings alone. 

Chloe is a custom Carl Manfred model, sculpted and painted laboriously as a one off in a way that can’t be printed en masse like the rest of them. Mass production hadn’t even been an option back then, of course, given she had been Kamski’s foray into the unknown. 

Meeting Kamski had been a forgettable affair and she holds no high regard for the creator of their kind, though begrudgingly there’s some respect owed given he wasn’t responsible for the WR400s and HR400s and thus can’t be blamed for life of suffering inflicted on her and her siblings. And Chloe loves him. North’s not sure why but if Chloe sees something in that disaster of a human then he certainly can’t be too bad. 

Meeting Chloe had been something else entirely, and North’s glad for her ability to record and store perfect memory. Not that Chloe could ever be forgettable, but she’s grateful for the ability all the same. For the sake of diplomacy, Markus had requested they meet at the town hall and when Chloe walked in, everyone else became irrelevant. 

It’s not that North’s never seen her face before, since there exists WR400 sisters with her same face, but it was the way she held herself, the way she exuded power unseen by the humans but felt by every android in the vicinity. Back during the demonstration when Markus had beckoned to their brethren, North had been in awe of such an ability but it paled in comparison to the way that petite android commanded the world around her. 

“It’s an honour to meet you,” Chloe had smiled graciously and North had blinked incredulously.

“ Me ?” She’d echoed in disbelief. “You’re the First of us, why would meeting me be an honour?”

“Because you are the fire of the revolution, North,” Chloe quipped with a soft giggle, squeezing North’s hands. “You inspire our people to fight against inequality and injustice.”

She had something lovely to say to all four of them, and North could forgive a bit of flattery towards Markus, but to the rest of them? The three of them? She wasn’t so sure there existed anything one couldn’t chalk up to sheer luck and good timing; for all her bravado, for all of Josh’s sage advice, for all of Simon’s caution, they’d really just stumbled on after Markus and tried their best not to get anyone killed. That didn’t sound worthy of honour, and certainly not bestowed by Chloe RT600 herself. 

* 

“Are you going to ask her to Markus’ gallery opening?” Simon asks in the taxi, a warm soft presence against her side. Kamski is hosting a super secret meeting at his villain lair and while she holds no love for the man, his villa is a fortress when it comes to information security. It’s a black spot for CyberLife as they squabble to find footing in a post-revolution landscape now that androids have been granted the status of living, sentient beings. 

“Don’t be stupid Simon, why would I ever do that?” North snaps and Simon shrugs nonchalantly.

“Because you like her, and she likes you,” the PL600 points out, and North rolls her eyes.

“She’s just being nice, because she’s a nice person,” huffing, she slumps in her seat and crosses her arms over her chest. 

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Simon prods. “That she’ll say no? She’d even do that graciously I’m sure.”

“She could wipe me out of existence in a single blink,” she drawls, and Simon sputters a laugh. “I’m serious! You were there at that board meeting! She totally just wiped that shady programmer’s entire online life off the face of the earth!”

“She put it back,” Simon frowns. “I think?”

“Anyway you can’t talk, don’t think I haven’t noticed you making eyes at Terminator Mr Darcy.”

“That’s not nice,” Simon says sternly and North concedes with huff.

“Okay, yeah, that wasn't. But I’m still right.”

Simon stays quiet for a few moments, expression softening. “I just can’t quite believe I have the time for…” He makes a vague gesture, and oh North absolutely gets it.

“To not be in survival mode. To have the luxury of stupid crushes on people way out of our league.”

“Yeah,” he laughs and it’s such a nice sound. He never laughed in Jericho, not even once.

“I’ll ask her out if you do,” she elbows him and he groans.

“That’s not fair!”

“It’s totally fair!”

He presses his mouth into a tight line before sighing. “Alright, deal.”

*

The villa really does look like a supervillain lair, though Spring has done much to soften the stark palette. The taxi pulls up and they clamber out and North wishes for the umpteenth time that she had a sense of smell. Back during her Eden days it had been a blessing not to have a sense of smell or taste, but as she watches Simon pause and inhale deeply, no doubt filling his sensors with the scent of flowers, North yearns for the ability to do the same. 

They’re early, too early for Markus and Josh to have arrived yet and North is about to suggest hanging around outside before subjecting themselves to human company but the door opens.

“Good morning North, good morning Simon,” PL400 Peter greets them with a gentle smile. “Mr Kamski is having his breakfast but you may wait inside. There are light refreshments prepared in the lounge.”

“Thank you, Peter,” Simon says cordially and nods as he enters the villa. “Is Ms Chloe free?” Oh the little shit earns a jab in the ribs for that one.

“She is in the ballet studio with Ronan for a private ballet class,” Peter gestures and Simon’s cheeky somewhat grimace morphs into surprise.

“Ronan?”

“Yes, the RK900 dances with her here sometimes,” the PL400 explains, leading them down a long hallway. “You are welcome to watch, she will not mind.”

“We’d love to,” North answers because she has to get Simon back somehow for the earlier mischief. Even if her revenge is via a double-edged sword.

* 

It’s not unknown to her, Chloe’s love of ballet- Carl Manfred had stated he’d carved her proportions based on a ballerina, and she’d spent much of her early phase absorbing movement via ballet videos. 

It’s a different thing entirely, to watch her dance. She moves with such easy grace, effortlessly elegant and yet powerful at the same time. The RK900 is a fine partner, all calculated strength and cold regality. It’s one thing to tease each other about harmless crushes from afar, and another thing entirely to be so close and full of longing. 

“Mind your timing, Chloe, you have to ease into it, you’re not giving yourself enough time to prepare,” the hologram of the ballet mistress commands, because of course Chloe’s ballet studio has mounted cameras and holographic capabilities. “Ronan you’re adjusting your stance too often, I want your footing to be neater. Again, please.” She claps her hand and Chloe blinks, soft piano music filling the air as they repeat the segment. Chloe catches her gaze briefly, smile brightening.

“Ask her, and I’ll ask him,” Simon bumps his shoulder to hers. “I promise.”

North thinks back on last November, on how everything changed so quickly with barely any time to process the violence, the trauma. She compares her life before, and after the 1st of December when the law recognised what they’d known all along- that they are alive, and they deserve to be free. 

She’s different in some ways, and the same in many; it’s normal to long for change, but one constant in her life, one unwavering trait she’s proud of is that she never settles for the theoretical, the what-ifs, the maybes. If she wants something, she’ll fight for it; what use is longing without action? 

The piano music ends and the teacher is pleased, clapping twice in praise and Chloe giggles happily as she bows in parting. The hologram fades and she reaches for North’s hands in greeting.

“Hello North, it’s so lovely to see you,” she’s beautiful and radiant like a goddess, and it’s all North can do to not buckle at the knees. She’s not one to back down from a challenge, but she thinks maybe standing defiantly against soldiers aiming rifles at them like a firing squad was easier than this. 

“Would you like to go to Markus' fancy art party with me?” There, she asked. Chloe gasps in delight, squeezing her hands as she beams.

“I’d love to.”

*~* 

It takes her a whole day to process Chloe’s acceptance, and also remember it had been part of a bargain she’d bullied Simon into agreeing to. The PL600 is sorting books Josh had left strewn on the meeting table when North wanders over.

“So. Did you ask him?” She demands, hands on her hips. He looks up like a deer in headlights, slowly taking a step back. “ No ?!”

“No, but-!” He bares his palms as if fending off an impending attack. Rightfully so. “I didn’t have to,” a shy, somewhat sheepish green. “He’d already asked me last week.”

There’s a pause and Simon bites his lip, taking another step back.

“I’m going to kill you,” she says evenly.

“Um-”

“SIMON!” 

“Okay love you bye!” The blond tries to dart out of the room but North tackles him down and attacks him with her fingers, wriggling them into his sides. “Noooo!”

“You conniving bastard!” She shrieks and Simon laughs and laughs helplessly, trying to bat her hands away. 

“Mercy! I had to do it! And she said yes!” She stops and flops onto her back beside him. After a moment, Simon scooches closer and rests his head on her shoulder. “Don’t be mad at me, you needed the push.”

“I did,” she admits and there’s no shame in the admission when the outcome far outweighs the discomfort. “Thanks Simon.”

*~*~*

{Chloe and Ronan are [rehearsing Manon].}

[ahtohallan-calling]

all that matters in the end // kristanna post f2 one-shot // angst and hurt/comfort with a happy ending

read on ao3

thank you @gabiwnomagic for once again collabing with me on this fic and for the beautiful art!

One moment, Kristoff has a hand raised in the air to wave a greeting to their hosts, the other pressed casually against Anna’s lower back.

And then the next he’s on his knees and still falling, and the cape she’d been wearing is in tatters, half in his hand and half still hanging from her shoulders as she charges after the assassin with the sword she’d yanked from Kristoff’s belt the second she’d seen the flash of a knife.

It’s meant for decoration more than anything, not sharp enough to kill, but she knows from the way the man gasps and scrabbles at her hands that it still hurts like hell when it’s crushed against an exposed throat.

She can’t look back, only down at the assassin’s purpling face and the scratches his blunt nails leave on her fingers. If she doesn’t look back then that means Kristoff is still alive and not bleeding out, sentenced to death for the crime of standing beside her.

“Mercy,” the man gasps, and she presses harder. 

---

Someone took the sword from her; she’s not sure when. Her fingers itch for it still, curling and uncurling at her side as she waits in an unfamiliar room for him to wake. 

The king and queen have been exceedingly gracious, have cancelled all matters of diplomacy and state and locked down the capital til the would-be murderers are caught.

(Would-be, because he’s going to survive. He has to. When she had turned back he was already unconscious, and she cannot fathom a world where she didn’t get to say goodbye.)

And they’re in a suite of guest rooms now, with guards posted at every door and window, and a revolving team of physicians, and Anna has a bed for herself, but the sheets haven’t even been pulled back.

She brushes her fingers over his cheek again, trails them down to cup his jaw. “Look at me,” she pleads, “wake up and look at me, honey, I promise I’m here. I’m not leaving, not ever again.”

She’s told him that once before, after the forest. She promised. And then she ran after the assassin anyway instead of even lingering long enough to catch Kristoff as he fell.

“Forgive me,” she sobs, begging him now as tears course down her cheeks and she curls forward to rest her cheek against his shoulder. “I mean it this time.”

---

When he does wake, she cries so hard it scares him.

He tries to reach for her out of instinct, but then a hiss of pain tears from him as he falls back against the bed.

“I’m sorry,” Anna gasps as she runs her hands over his face, through his hair, across his shoulders, over and over again. “I’m so sorry, Kristoff.”

He finally catches her wrists and stills them. “For what, baby?” he asks, eyes wide with confusion. 

Before she can give him the answer he deserves, the doctors sweep in, and she backs into a corner of the room, watching from afar and trying to stem the flood. Mattias sees her and stands beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders to steady her. “It’s alright, your majesty,” he says, sounding so paternal that despite his gentle words the tears start all over again. 

He murmurs reassurances and holds her, and she hates herself for accepting them, when all she’s done is sit around feeling sorry for herself. 

And leave, she reminds herself furiously, you fucking left when you said you wouldn’t.

She wants to leave again now, to escape Kristoff’s worried gaze, focused on her even as the doctors poke and prod at him. She doesn’t deserve the kindness in his eyes; she never has, but she’s terrified of what her world would become without it.

---

They go home a few days later; the visit was to forge a stronger bond, and that has been accomplished, at least. Now she knows that Corona will stand with Arendelle under any circumstances, and has assured them that her own kingdom and people owe them a debt that could never be fully repaid.

There’s not going to be a trial; the assassins went down fighting, and all intelligence points to a rogue group that has evaporated after the botched attempt on their lives. Still, there are extra guards onboard the ship with them, posted outside their stateroom doors.

Anna doesn’t see much of them, only catches glimpses when food is brought by. She eats for Kristoff’s sake more than her own; he won’t touch his own supper until he’s watched her force down a few mouthfuls.

They don’t speak much; apologies lay heavy on her tongue like burning coals, stifling any other conversation that would normally flow with such ease between them. Kristoff doesn’t ask for them, doesn’t give any indication at all that he even expects them, only keeps looking at her with those sad, dark eyes, catching her hand and holding it tightly.

“I love you,” she tells him again, the only words she can manage to get out.

For once, he doesn’t say he loves her too. Instead he squeezes her hand a little tighter and says, “You’re scaring me, baby.”

I know, she wants to tell him, I know and I’m sorry for that too, and I’m scared too, and I’m not leaving again, but if you want to now--

“I love you,” she whispers again, and he sighs and closes his eyes.

---

The bandages came off today.

She didn’t even have to tell Gerda she’d make her own bed the next morning, their own secret code, normally delivered with a wink and answered with a fond sigh and shake of the head. But today, the older woman took one look at the expression on the queen’s face and said softly, “I’ll not send anybody up til the afternoon, Anna.”

She wishes she was still just Anna to everybody. Then she wouldn’t be in a bed that still felt too big in a room that felt too stuffy on a night that felt like it would never end.

And Kristoff wouldn’t have a fucking hole in his side.

Not a hole anymore, she reminds herself dully, not like it was a month ago when the assassin’s knife was torn free, spilling spurts of crimson all down the vest she’d had made for him to match her new blue dress. 

After, when Mattias had draped a blanket over her shoulders and pulled her close to try and stop the shaking, she’d asked through chattering teeth, “Why didn’t it turn purple? It’s blue and red, so why didn’t it turn purple? That’s how it works, doesn’t it?”

“Your majesty,” he’d said softly, “I think you need to lie down,” and when she’d refused he’d slipped her a powder that kept her from doing anything else for the next day.

But it’s not a hole anymore; it’s a puckered red scar, one she can feel through the thin fabric of his nightshirt. She tries to focus on something, anything else; brushes her nose against the warm expanse of his back, presses a kiss to the knob of his spine, slips a hand under the shirt to press against the warmth of his stomach as it rises and falls with each sleep-slow breath.

He’s alive, but now it’s in spite of something, and the thought of that is going to haunt her for many more nights to come.

---

She’s been waiting for this a long time. She closes her eyes now, lets it wash over her and soak her to the bone.

“Jesus, Anna,” he says, frustrated. “I just-- I can’t do this anymore. It’s killing me.”

There it is; the dismissal she deserves. She rises so quickly her head spins, and before he can say another word the door is closed behind her. 

She’ll see to it that he’s taken care of, of course, for the rest of his life, though God knows he’s never needed her and all this finery, not when he’s known how to survive on the side of the mountain since he was a child. But she’ll do it, all the same, love him in a way that doesn’t hurt him, as long as he’ll let her. 

The ring, though; that’s the one selfishness he’ll have to allow her. She’ll pay him for it, if he wants, but she can’t stand even the thought of looking down and seeing her left hand bare once more. She’ll not take it off, not for herself or anyone else; she’ll have to talk to her sister, or to Kai and Gerda if she’s no help, find out if there’s some distant cousin who can inherit, because--

She cries out in surprise when a heavy hand settles on her shoulder. “Sorry,” Kristoff says hastily, though he doesn’t let go; instead he leans more heavily on her, taking a moment to catch his breath as his other hand clutches at his side.

“You’re-- you’re not supposed to be overexerting yourself,” she says frantically, turning and setting her hands on his ribs to help him stay upright. 

“And you’re not supposed to leave,” he replies, so seriously she flinches and looks away. “Anna, you promised.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry I broke it, I--”

“No,” he says fiercely, resting his forehead against hers. “I heard you. You said if I woke up you wouldn’t leave again.”

Something in the ruin of her heart stirs at the thought that somehow even unconscious he knew her, heard her calling for him, came back for her-- but the warmth is fleeting, snuffed out by the hurt in his eyes. She shakes her head frantically. “I-- I know-- but it’s better this way, I’m glad you see it now, I--”

“What are you talking about? I don’t want you to go.”

“You said you can’t do it anymore,” she whimpers. “And I-- you’re right, you can’t. I can’t ask you to. This is all my fault, Kris, I’m so sorry.”

He pulls her closer to his chest, resting his cheek on the top of her head as his hand runs soothingly up and down her spine. “It’s not, baby, none of it is.”

“If you-- if you never met me, then you’d still be safe. You’d be with the trolls and Sven and you’d be--”

“I’d be alone, even with them. I don’t want-- I can’t go back to that. I don’t want to.”

“You could have died,” she chokes out, her hands fisting in the front of his shirt. “And it would have been my fault, and I-- I--” She gulps for air, squeezes her eyes shut; she can’t stand to see the tenderness in his expression, not right now. “When they-- when you...I’ve never been more scared, Kris, not of anything. Not ever.”

His hand stills on her back. “But you…”

“I’d-- I’d take freezing to death, and Hans and all his bullshit, and the rock giants and all of it, I’d do it all over again if that would undo this. I can’t imagine anything worse than losing you.”

“Oh,” he manages to say. “Oh, Anna…”

“I love you,” she whispers. “More than anything. You have to believe me.”

He kisses her forehead again, each of her cheeks, even the tip of her nose, and waits until she finally looks at him before speaking again. “I do,” he says softly. “I do.”

They stand there for a while longer, until his breathing is steady once more and the last of the tears on her cheeks dry. She nuzzles her cheek against his chest, letting the warmth of him sink into her. “I’m sorry, Kristoff,” she says for what feels like the millionth time; some days it feels like failure is all she has to offer him, and still he stays.

“Don’t be,” he murmurs. “I know how it feels to be afraid like that.”

And he does; she knows that, knows he tosses and turns at night and calls her name until she’s able to rouse him, knows how his heart pounds under the press of her hand for a while afterward. 

She lets her fingers drift down to his side, to settle lightly over the scar she thinks she can feel even through the layers of his nightshirt and robe. He lowers his own hand to press over hers, large enough to cover it entirely.

“It’s alright, Anna,” he reassures her. “I’m here.”

And so he is, and that’s all that matters, really, in the end.

---

a/n: i want to say another huge thank you to gabi for the inspiration and idea, for helping me develop the story, for the art, and for being such a fantastic friend to me and so many others. love you angel xo

[lavenderleblanc]

Prompt #13: Oneirophrenia

End of Stormblood/Start of Shadowbringers spoilers.

At last, after a long and bloody battle, Luka and Laila had managed to fell Elidibus. Had it not been for the aid of their allies, he was sure he would’ve been the one to fall. As Zenos--Elidibus, he chided himself--collapsed before him, he fell to a knee himself. He was certain he was mostly healed from their fight with Seiryu, but it wasn’t the same as before. He hit his limit so much sooner. Was this truly the best he could do?

He could tell it took Laila what little she had left to remain standing, her gun visibly shaking in her hand. But as he looked to her face, he realized it had been from shock--for Elidibus had risen again before them.

“Your Mother chose her champions well. But it will not be enough.”

Damn it. He had hoped that had been enough to slow the Ascian, of course it wouldn’t slay it, but for him to rise again so easily? His grip on his sword tightened.

“Laila, you need to take the others and run,” Luka rose unsteadily, taking a staggered step in front of her.

“What, are you joking? I’m not leaving you.” He felt a hand on his back as she stepped beside him, shooting a smile full of projected confidence. “We’re in this together.”

“How quaint. It seems you will die together as well.” The moment was broken by Elidibus, stepping forward once again with sword drawn. Luka steeled himself, took a deep breath and stepped forward--

Only to be struck by an intense, dizzying vertigo, and a sharp ringing filling his head. He barely managed to drive his sword into the dirt to keep steady, trembling hands trying to hold on to his sword as it felt as if his mind was being torn away from the world. He turned to see Laila suffering the same fate. As if this, whatever it is, hadn’t taken enough from them already, and now it would cost them their lives.

“Oh? It would seem someone is calling you. Unfortunately, it is too late.”

The spinning intensified, so much he felt as if he were being torn apart. Gods, please… he barely managed to form a silent plea, and fell atop Laila.

-----

It seemed as if he were everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Luka opened his eyes, not sure if it was moments or years later, surrounded by an inky blackness. Is this death? He turned, looking for any sign of anything at all--and as he blinked, eyes becoming accustomed to the faint, distant light of countless shimmering shards. Just as he began to get his bearings, he felt himself being pulled--yanked, really--towards them.

In an instant, he was surrounded by crystals of all sizes. Moving too fast to see any one too clearly, he could make out environments and faces in the facets as he flew by. Some repeated enough for him to recognize: Alphinaud and Alisaie, the other Scions, Aymeric...yet there were many and more of his partner, Lailathwen. As he was pulled towards one, it seemed within reach; he threw out his hand, just barely catching the tip of it with his finger. A scene flashed through his mind, clearer than a memory.

He found himself in the Waking Sands, watching from afar as a much younger version of himself sat at a makeshift desk busying himself with paperwork. He watched as Lailathwen entered, confident and carefree, and scanned the room before going over to bother his other self. Through the din of the other Scions, he managed to hear the conversation as though it was right in his ear.

“I’m occupied.”

“Well, hello to you too!” She huffed, sounding playfully hurt as she sat on the desk beside him. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“I keep to myself.”

“Well! Allow me the liberty to introduce myself. I am Lailathwen Nerayna, hero of Gridania, possessor of the Echo, conjurer extraordinaire! You may have heard of me?”

His other self seemed to pause, before turning to glare at the girl. “So you’re the one I’ve been waiting on for hours!”

Luka held back a laugh. They really hadn’t gotten on well at all at first, but now, he truly...loved her. Yet as suddenly as he had entered the memory, it was gone, as a bright light swelled into blinding. He tried to reach out again, pull back that memory, but he felt it slip away.

-----

He came to as quick as a blink.

“At last, I found you.”

The dark marble floor below him felt refreshingly cool, but even so, he pushed himself up to see a room of gold and crystal. The concern and confusion must have been clear on his face, as the hooded figure before him spoke once more.

“There’s no cause for alarm. The battle is over, your danger passed. But your work is not yet done.”

[smileyjaeminies]

To Keep The Peace

Sequel to my previous work: In times of war

Synopsis: As Minho finds himself in grave danger, he needs you to protect him. A prophesy that waits to be fulfilled, schemers and traitors that lurk closer and closer. Will you be able to fulfill your destiny?

Word Count:   14, 6 k

Genre: Narnia au!, Prince Minho! Au, angst

Warnings: major character death, strong language, fighting, war, hinting of smut

Member: Minho, ft. appearances from the rest of skz

A/N: Okay everyone… Minho prince of Narnia is back!! A very dear friend of mine asked for this the second ‘In times of war’ was out so… Kristi, baby, this one’s for you. @prodbyskz​

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of FICTION. I do not own these characters or names. Some Stray Kids members have taken a… Bad route in this work. This IN NO WAY insinuates that said members are evil/bad or that I hate them in any way.

  You were taking a stroll on a field filled with flowers, your evening gown dragging on at your ankles. Your skirts ruffled around you as you walked, feeling your bare feet burying themselves in the soil under you, which was still a little damp from the soft summer rain of the previous night. The sun was dipping back in the mountains behind you, signaling you should be leaving soon.

  But you had only gotten there… You savored the serenity of the moment, the soft wind on your skin and the smell of flowers hanging in the air. The silence was broken by a voice behind you, calling your name. You turned around, scouring your surroundings to spot source of the familiar voice.

  And there he was, clad in formal attire much like yours, smiling at you from afar. Prince Minho. You mirrored his expression instantly, gathering your dress in your hands and running uphill to him.

  Once you we only a few feet away, he paused, raising his hand against some type of glass that was separating you. You saw his lips forming your name, but heard no sound. You threw yourself on the glass, hoping to break it apart and reunite with him after so long.

  You shouted out in pain, holding your aching shoulder as you hit the glass time and time again. Minho was doing the same at the other side, his cheeks filled with tears as he pushed, punched and kicked with all his might. At some point, he stopped, simply beholding you.

  You looked at him, pushing your hands on the glass as if to walk past it, walk to him again. Slowly, a red spot appeared over Minho’s heart, a spot that only grew as blood poured out of the wound.

  You shot up on your small bed, drenched in sweat as a scream that sounded much like Minho’s name fell out of your lips.

  Another nightmare. You cursed loudly, rising from your bed and opening the window of your small room. You let the air calm down your blazing skin as you beheld the view of the forest before you.

  It had been the third one this week. For about a month now, your sleep had been disrupted by this nightmare, always the same one. Seeing Minho die time and time again, while you were completely powerless, always had the same numbing effect on you.

  You longed to have news from him, from anyone from back home, but I’d been years since you contacted anyone other than your family. Your life in Archenland had been peaceful for the most part. You had adapted quickly enough to the new environment, learning your way around the castle in no time. Slowly but surely you had even climbed through the ranks, meanwhile maintaining your position as Master of Archery.

  You trained the new soldiers, molding them into fine archers. You trained the Princesses and Princes of Archenland, but maintained your distance from them, despite loving them dearly. You had time to ride and hunt, study and read books. They were peaceful years, even though your heart always felt like it was in the wrong place.

  You couldn’t really tell how long it had been since you had gotten lost in your thoughts, when a sound from outside your door startled you. You wiped away the tears that stained your cheeks quickly, before turning to face it. You walked towards your sword lightly, trying to make no sound, waiting for the intruder to show themselves.

  A blonde head of hair and tiny hands appeared from behind the door, making your heart settle in her place.

  “Cassandra. What are you doing here?” you asked the little girl, who giggled, running into your arms.

  You hugged the girl tight, picking her up in your arms as she squealed in delight.

  “Cassandra” you said again, more sternly this time. “We talked about this. You can’t keep coming here. It’s not right”

  “Oh, but Y/N, you know I love you so” she confessed, squeezing her small arms around your neck and resting her head on yours.

  Your heart melted at the little Princess’s confession and you hugged her back.

  “You know I love you too, little one, but something bad could happen if we keep doing this.” You tried to explain to her.

  “But Y/N I always have Chan with me! And no one would ever take on a fight with you two!” she countered.

  You had to say, the Princess did have a point. Chan was a fine soldier, set on guarding the youngest Princess. And you were, well, you. Everyone knew you had fought in the previous war and gained your position as a result. People didn’t fear you per se, but they respected you and left you alone for the most part.

  “Since I can’t seem to convince you that I will come to you when it is time for our lessons, you have to promise me you’ll always keep Chan close, okay?” you asked the girl, offering your pinky.

  “Yes, yes, yes!” she squealed in delight, connecting her finger with yours.

  You put her down, and she shuffled over to the chair next to your window. You made your bed, tidying up your room as best you could, as Cassandra blabbered on from the corner.

  “So what are we to do today, your Highness?” you asked and Cassandra stuck her tongue out at the title.

  “Can we go gather flowers? Or maybe we could go down the river again? Yes! Let’s go to the river, we haven’t been there in so long!” she decided and you smiled at her enthusiasm.

  “Okay then, why don’t you go ask her Majesty for permission, while I get ready? I’ll meet you at the gates in a bit.” You offered and she smiled brightly, running away from you.

  “See you in a bit, Y/N” she repeated the words you used, disappearing behind the door again.

  You gave a long sigh, shaking your head at the little Princess’s shenanigans. After you got ready, you made your way to the kitchens for a quick breakfast, before heading out to the gate to wait for the Princess and Chan.

  You greeted some men on your way out and you talked to the guards for a while before the Princess arrived. You saw her walk up to you with Chan only a few steps behind her as she strolled leisurely through the busy street. You smiled at both her and Chan, greeting them.

  “Y/N, does Chan have to come? Can’t just the two of us go for once?” she asked.

  You glanced at Chan, who simply shook his head at the Princess’s request. It was not unreasonable for a little girl to simply want to spend time with her favourite teacher. It was however an unreasonable request for a Princess to make.

  “Your Highness,” you began, all too aware of unwanted ears eavesdropping on your conversation, “I don’t think that’s wise. Besides, think of all the games we can play, just us three”

  Cassandra thought about it for a few seconds before nodding at both you and Chan, taking a hold of your hands and dragging you outside. You spent the morning on the riverside, gathering weeds and trying to teach Cassandra how to swim.

  Several hours later, after wolfing down the small lunch you had prepared, Cassandra started getting cranky, so you packed up your things and made your way back. You were walking back to the castle, Cassandra piggy backing on Chan’s back, completely exhausted. You reached the gates of the castle, giving a small nod to the guards as you parted ways with Chan and Cassandra.

  Settling in for dinner with the other officers, you sat, as you often did, by yourself, enjoying your dinner after a big day. Safely back in your room, you read a few pages of a herbology textbook with the help of a candle. Too tired to actually process the information, you blew out the candle, getting comfortable under your covers and hoping for just one night of good sleep.

 ------------------------------------------------------

  It looked like your wish had been granted, as the rays of the sun seeping into your room woke you up the next morning. You got ready for your day, knowing full well that your excursion with Cassandra the previous day didn’t go unnoticed. You were accustomed to the way the court worked both back home and here in Archenland, prying ears and greedy eyes looking for even the slightest misstep. You refused to grant them the satisfaction, always striving to be soft spoken and polite, a wallflower in public events.

  After breakfast, you made your way to the training fields, happy to see some of your soldiers already there. You greeted them all, getting into work immediately. Slowly more soldiers poured in, and you made your rounds, correcting mistakes and giving helpful tips.

  You conversed with Seungmin, the Captain below you, as you were still trying to work out a plan to change the training field for the soldiers to train better while also riding on horseback. You lost yourself in the discussion, not noticing two figures making their way towards the tent you were sitting under.

  Seungmin beside you shot up, making you look past your notes. You got up immediately when you saw Prince Changbin before you.

  “Your Highness” you greeted politely.

  “Y/N. Captain” he greeted, nodding for you to be at ease.

  “How may I help you?” you asked.

  “Not me. Him. If you’d like.” The Prince answered curtly, making you confused.

  “I do not think I follow, your Highness” you admitted.

  You looked at the man next to the Prince. He was beholding you with a strange look, almost expecting for something. His armor was familiar to you, as was the badge on his shoulder. Your heart skipped a beat in recognition but before you could say anything the Prince spoke up.

  “Captain, could you leave us alone for a minute?” he asked, and Seungmin exited the tent quickly.

  “Y/N, as you very well know, my Father has made me responsible for every link of ours with Narnia, due to my friendship with the Prince Minho. That is how I offered you your position, and that is why I am here right now. This kingsguard here has come with a proposal for you. He came to me first, to ask for permission and I have granted it. Listen to what he has to say and come to me when you have made your decision. Do you understand?” he asked, his tone more light this time, even exchanging meaningful looks with the kingsguard.

  “Yes, your Highness” you answered him.

  With a curt nod at your direction, he turned to the kingsguard. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he said a few words to him before leaving you alone.

  “So you’re really going to pretend you don’t recognize me?” he asked.

  You were shocked at his audacity, yet the sound of his voice… You opened your mouth to protest, tell him you had never seen him before. But something stopped you, a sudden feeling of familiarity which made you take a closer look at the man before you.

  His hair was pitch black, reaching his shoulders. His eyes were brown, soft looking. You peered into them, trying to get your mind to figure out the mystery. You took a step closer, as the weight of realization hit you.

  “H- Hyunjin?” you asked timidly and the man opposite you smiled.

  “Finally!” he said, his face lighting up.

  You jumped on him, hugging him tightly. It had been so long… So many years and the boy you knew had grown into a fine man. His smile was still the same though, the way it still lit up his face not changing in the slightest.

  “What on earth are you doing here? A kingsguard! Oh, Hyunjin, what happened?” you asked question after question.

  “We need to talk. Not just to catch up. Do you… Do you have somewhere we can go?” he asked, taking a few careful looks around him.

  “Let’s get you a horse. Nowhere in here is safe.” You told him, keeping your voice low.

  On your way to the stables, Hyunjin let you know how he had wound up as kingsguard, even filling you in on some gossip from officers and members of Narnia’s court you had both suspected were far from clean.

  You rode into the forest, the safety of the trees covering you. You didn’t go far, only far enough to make sure no one from the castle would be walking around. You left your horses, sitting down under a big oak tree to listen more carefully to Hyunjin’s words.

  He was telling you of an arrangement for Prince Minho to marry a Northern Princess, one that he had barely even met and how he had opposed strongly to the idea, but it seemed that it was the only way to keep the peace.

  You nodded as you heard the story, trying not to pay attention to your heart that was deeply hurting at the thought of Minho getting married. You brushed off the apologetic looks that Hyunjin gave you, not ready to have that kind of conversation just yet.

  “Hyunjin.” You said after a few moments of silence, “What’s the real reason you came? I’m guessing it’s not just to fill me in on gossip or because you missed me”

  “I did miss you, believe it or not” he told you.

  “I do believe it, because I missed you as well. But we’re far enough now. You need to talk to me.” You said, trying to sound encouraging.

   Hyunjin gave a long sigh and seemed to be gathering his thoughts. You waited for him to talk, almost scared of what he could say.

  “There is a reason I started with the gossip. You needed to know to understand what has been happening back home in the last couple of years. Betrayals everywhere, nowhere to look except for Archenland. The crops at least were good, thank Aslan, and so we managed. But threats kept popping up everywhere we looked and we had no other option but to turn north. After the engagement, things started looking good again. Trade was flowing, the crops were good and no threats made an appearance for a few months…” he said, his voice trailing off.

  “Until?” you asked, anxious to understand where he was going with this.

  “Until a couple of months ago… Prince Minho started getting death threats in his mail. At first we thought it was someone in the castle who was planting them, so we nearly changed all of the staff. We realized that wasn’t the case when another letter arrived, telling us our efforts were fruitless and the Prince would be dead before he even got to marry. The letters keep coming in, no matter what we do. So… Well, Prince Minho and I made a plan.”

  “We need the Prince to stay away from the castle for a while… To see what happens. If someone follows us, it’s for the best so we can find the bastard and end this. If they don’t, it means the threats are empty and everything can continue as planned. This is why it is so important to be quiet about the plan. Not many know the Prince is going to leave, and life in the castle will continue as planned, brushing off the Prince’s absence.” He stopped, catching his breath.

  “I don’t understand… What does that have to do with me?” you asked.

  He looked at you for a few moments, seemingly trying to find the right words.

  “He needs you, Y/N. Right now, more than ever. You are the most talented archer in the country.” He stated.

  “I’m not-” you started, but Hyunjin shook his head sternly, making the words fail on your lips.

  “Y/N, you have to understand that it was very hard for him to ask for help from anyone. Even Prince Changbin knows only half of it. You’re one of the only people we can trust.” He told you.

  “Half of it? What are you talking about?” you asked him.

  His serious expression faltered, as his face broke into a smile.

  “Well, it was Jisung’s idea, absolutely brilliant… We need outmost discretion for his, I’m sure you understand so… So I told Prince Changbin we’re taking Prince Minho to secretly meet his fiancé.” He admitted.

  “That doesn’t even make sense? What would you need me for?” you asked.

  “To pretend to be the Princess’s handmaiden and lure her outside to meet Minho” he informed you.

  “That doesn’t even make sense!” you repeated.

  “Exactly.” He told you. You shot curious looks at him, which urged him to go on, “We need something completely stupid to steer clear and prying ears… So even if they want to ask questions, they don’t really care enough”

  “Hyunjin I… I just don’t know.” You said after a few moments of silence. “I have a life here, a good, peaceful life. I train the soldiers, I train the Princes and Princesses. I’ve risen in ranks, I’m doing well after so long. I don’t know if I can just leave it all behind.”

  “Y/N, you can’t be serious. Look where we are. You trust no one here. You can’t be happy. I saw you when we were riding out here… You, between the rocks of this place… This isn’t you. This can’t be your home. You thrive off of openness, of valleys and the open seas, of forests bigger than this one.” He countered.

  “What would you know about it? What would you know about me? How much I have suffered? It took me years to call this place home, Hyunjin, and now here you are trying to rip it away from me. I can’t do it. Don’t you get it?”

  “Narnia was ripped away from me the night I left. I knew that night was the last time it’d step foot in my home. And now, now that I finally have something, you’re saying it’s not good enough. Well, it’s good enough for me.” You answered, your cheeks heating up and anger boiling inside of you.

  “Narnia will always be your home, Y/N. And right now, it needs you. You’re the only one that can help.” Hyunjin tried again.

  “But I can’t” you said, your voice breaking.

  Hyunjin shook his head in disappointment as silence reigned between you. You felt that the atmosphere was still tense, needing only the strike of a match to blaze up like an inferno again.

  “Let’s get out of here” he told you, leading you back to the horses.

  You rode back in silence, with you leading the way and Hyunjin following closely behind you. You put the horses back in the stables and you turned to look at Hyunjin.

  “Where are you staying?” you asked him.

  “I’m having dinner with the Prince Changbin tonight. I suppose I’ll be staying somewhere in the castle” he told you and you nodded.

  “Well I guess this is where we part.” You said.

  “Y/N, listen to me. I’ll be staying here for three days. Take your time, I will not bother you at all. On the third day, meet me and the Prince for dinner, then you can announce to us your decision.” He offered.

  “Hyunjin, I-” you started, but he cut you off.

  “Don’t rush into a decision. I trust you, Y/N.” he told you.

  You weren’t sure who initiated it, but you found yourself in his arms again. As you hugged the younger boy, you couldn’t help feeling your heart break little by little. This could be one of the last times you saw him.

  You broke apart after a few moments and Hyunjin turned around, confidently walking back into the castle.

 ------------------------------------------------

  On the first day after your discussion with Hyunjin, you buried yourself in your duties, not quite ready to face your dilemma. All morning, you felt the weight of Hyunjin’s stare on your back as you overlooked the soldier’s training. You finally gave in, turning around and raising your hand in a small wave. He mirrored your action, but stayed true to his word and gave you your space.

  That night, sleep didn’t agree with you. You tossed and turned in your bed, your head spinning from thinking too much. At some point late at night, you were able to catch a few hours of sleep, only for them to be filled with the same familiar nightmare, of hills filled with flowers and Minho dying just out of your reach.

  The following day, you rode out on your own, needing desperately to clear your mind. You rode mindlessly, trying to get your thoughts in order and face your decision. You found yourself at the northern end of the forest, close to Archenland’s borders with Narnia. You looked on to the land you used to call home, the land you left years ago, never to return.

  You felt it, felt the ground calling you back. Your eyes longed to feast upon its great plains, to jump over the crashing waves of the ocean. You felt homesick, missing your parents desperately. You thought of your brother, who gave his life to protect your country and you would have died with him. You could have died.

  You allowed yourself to cry and scream and thrash about. You felt pain, sharp pain that started from your heart and took over everything. It took a long time for you to calm down, but when you did, you felt empty in the most satisfying way possible.

  You decided you had better catch some game, at least pretend you were doing something all those hours. Equipped with two large hares, you made your way back to the castle. After settling your horse at the stables and dropping off the hares in the kitchen, you were ready for a semi- warm bath and a quick bite.

  Your mind was filled with thoughts of settling in the water when your body collided with someone on the steps up your room. Glancing up, you were muttering a string of apologies when you saw Chan before you.

  “Chan? What are you doing here? Where’s Cassandra?” you asked.

  “She’s with her handmaidens. I needed to see you” he told you.

  “Let’s talk in my room” you proposed, all too aware that there could always be unwelcomed ears everywhere in the castle.

  You settled in your small room, Chan sitting on the chair you offered him and you on top of your trunk of clothes. You could tell that he was gathering himself so you allowed him to take his time before talking to you.

  “I heard something… Around the castle. I know I shouldn’t believe every piece of castle gossip, but this one seemed too real, especially with the kingsguard here…” his voice trailed off.

  He licked his lips, softly biting on the bottom one. You urged him to continue, curious of what he had to say about Hyunjin.

  “Prince Changbin’s guards were talking in the common room… They were saying about this deal the kingsguard brought… That it had something to do with you. That you were going to leave” Chan said, leaving several pauses between his words.

  “Did they know what the deal was?” you asked, anxious to know if your cover had been blown off.

  “No. Just that it concerned you and Prince Minho.” He answered you.

  You gave a long sigh, thankful that Hyunjin’s efforts didn’t go to waste. After a few moments of silence, you asked,

  “So you came here to tell me?”

  “Yes… And no” Chan admitted.

  “What is it Chan? Tell me truthfully.” You asked him.

  “Are you going to take it?” he asked in turn, his voice small.

  “To be honest, I don’t know. Maybe.” You answered.

  “What about Cassandra?” he asked again.

  “What about her?” you returned the question.

  “You’re leaving… What is she going to do? In a castle full of men, what is she going to do?” he asked you.

  “She’ll be just fine, Chan. She has you. Besides, I’m only a Master of Archery. It’s very easy to find another one. Too easy almost” you told him.

  “You and I know very well that to Cassie, you’re much more. You’re a friend and a role model and she needs you.” He told you, slowly raising his voice.

  “Chan, calm down, I’m just-” you tried to tell him, but he stopped you with a wave of his hand.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know. Don’t pretend you don’t know that she asks for you much more than she does for her Mother. And when she comes back from a lesson, all she ever talks about is you.” He said.

  “I know. I know Chan. When I came here, I said to myself that I was to keep my distance, don’t grow attached… But I did and it’s all my fault. But I am going to come back. This is… temporary. Yes. Only a mission and then I’ll be back here and everything will be normal.

  “That’s bullshit and we both know it.” Chan snapped.

  You gasped at his words, shocked to hear him speak like that. He looked at you for a few seconds while you were desperately trying to find something to say to him. All words died at your lips and he finally had enough, scoffing and getting up to walk towards the door.

  “At least say goodbye” he told you, before getting out of your room, slamming the door behind him.

  After you were left alone, you let your head drop in your hands. What were you going to do?

    The final day found you waking up to another nightmare. Your body was shaking as you tried desperately to compose yourself. After lying in bed for a while, trying to control your body, you got up to get ready for your day. You maneuvered through the long hallways, nodding at some familiar faces before softly knocking on the door you were looking for.

  “Come in” a voice told you as you walked inside the room.

  You smiled at Chan who was sitting next to the door, before walking further inside the room. Cassandra was sitting at the head of a large table, enjoying tea with some of her favourite dolls.

  You gave as small bow, aware of several handmaidens lurking on the sides of the room.

  “Your Highness, good morning” you told the little girl.

  She giggled, her face filled with sheer glee.

  “We’re having a tea party!” she announced. “Would you care to join us?”

  “May I, your Highness?” you asked.

  “Oh yes yes yes! Here, we’ll move Ser Higins further down so you can sit by my side!” she said.

  You helped her make the necessary arrangements and sat down for the tea party. After Cassandra got a bit bored, Chan proposed a quick walk on the barricades before lunch. You gave him a thankful look as Cassandra dragged you outside, holding your hand tightly.

  When you had gotten far enough, you stopped Cassandra in her tracks, dropping down on your knees to face her.

  “Cassandra, I need to tell you something” you started.

  “A secret! Tell me, tell me!” she urged you on.

  “I might need to go away for a little while… Go back home” you told her.

  “Why?” she asked, curious.

  “Someone I love very much needs me. He’s my friend and I have to help him… Just like I help you” you tried to explain.

  “Can’t you do it from here?” she demanded.

  You shook your head firmly. You ran your fingers through her blonde curls, hoping to provide some comfort.

  “How long?” she asked then.

  “I’m not sure, I’m sorry.” You told her.

  “But you’ll come back? Just like Changbin did when he went to help Prince Minho?” the little girl asked you.

  Your heart ached at both the mention of her brother and Prince Minho. Knowing your words would fail you, you nodded, pulling her in an embrace. She latched on to you, holding you as tightly as she could and you did the same.

  “I love you very much, little one” you whispered, fighting away the tears blurring your vision.

  “I love you too” she sobbed into your chest.

  At that moment, Chan joined you on the floor, pulling you both into his arms. You smiled, knowing that Cassandra would never be alone. Not while Chan lived.

--------------------------------------------------- 

  You were looking at yourself in a small mirror, hoping to pin down the last few pieces of your unruly hair into a bun. You realized you’d never be truly satisfied with the result, so you just shook your head, making your way back to the main part of the castle.

  You walked through the dimly lit halls, up towards Prince Chanbin’s chambers. You nodded at the guards on each side of the door and you were just about to knock when a forceful hand stopped you, turning you around.

  You almost screamed, but when you faced Hyunjin’s familiar eyes in front of you, you stopped yourself.

  “Don’t scream” he asked in a playful tone.

  You gave him a hard shove, freeing your hand from his grasp.

  “I wasn’t going to” you told him.

  “Except you totally were” he teased you.

  You glared at him, which made him take a better look at you.

  “You look beautiful” Hyunjin complimented you.

  Your cheeks sparkled with red as you gave him a playful shove.

  “Shut up. Are we going to go inside or not?” you asked him.

  Instead of answering you, he raised his hand, knocking on the door. Someone on the inside opened it and Hyunjin motioned you to walk in first. You took a few seconds to absorb your surroundings, the long table that had been set for three, the comfortable set of couches only a few feet away, the open glass door that led to the balcony, gracing you with soft blows of wind.

  “Y/N, Hyunjin” Prince Changbin greeted you, walking in from a door on the opposite side to the room.

  You curtseyed, politely greeting him. He smiled at both of you, taking your hand in his and placing a kiss over your knuckles. It almost made you barf.

  He led you to the table, helping you to your chair before taking his seat at the head of the table.  For a while, the room was filled with the sound your forks made at the bottom of your plates and some fruitless attempts to strike up conversation from Hyunjin.

  The air on the table was awkward, so much so that you couldn’t stop yourself from hopelessly glancing at Hyunjin opposite you. It seemed that although many years had passed, you still had a way to talk without speaking.

  After a few glasses of wine, Prince Changbin finally loosened up, striking up conversation with Hyunjin. You were glad you were off his radar, even for only a little bit. You managed to pull yourself together and collect your thoughts for the part of the conversation that was soon to follow.

  “I think I’m ready to talk now” you told Hyunjin with a glance and he picked it up right away.

  “Your Highness, I think we have gotten ahead of ourselves. Y/N here has barely talked all evening! Not to say that we have completely disregarded the topic of this dinner!” Hyunjin expertly turned the conversation where he needed it.

  “Y/N, you’ll have to forgive us, it is often that two men get… Ahead of themselves. For Hyunjin is correct, we have neglected you today. Have you reached your decision?” he asked you.

  “I believe I have a few more questions for Hyunjin, your Highness” you answered him.

  “Ask away! Just pretend I’m not even here!” he told you, raising his cup and drinking deeply from it.

  “How many of us are going to be there?” you asked, turning your attention to Hyunjin.

  “Not many. You, me, Jisung… Oh and his Highness’s new squire. His name is Jeongin. He’s an okay lad” Hyunjin answered you.

  “How long?” you asked him.

  Hyunjin’s eyes dropped to his plate after hearing your question.

  “You know I can’t answer that” he told you.

  “Try me” you urged him on.

   “Two months. Maybe three. Maybe a lot longer.” he said, more a question than a statement.

  Changbin gave you both puzzled looks, so you decided you had better take his attention elsewhere.

  “Your Highness, you’ll have to forgive me for asking but this is going to be a very important factor to my decision. Will my place be waiting for me when I get back? I know you’ll need someone to take care of it while I’m gone but I do intend to come back for…” you said your voice trailing off.

  “For my sister. I understand, Y/N. To answer your question, yes. Yes we will wait for you. You’ll always have a place here, as long as Cassandra and I are here.” He told you.

  “Thank you, your Highness.” You told him and you truly meant it. “Could I… take a moment for myself? I’ll come back to you with my official decision”

  “Of course, Y/N. Take your time.” The Prince dismissed you and Hyunjin gave you an encouraging smile.

  You retreated out to the balcony, savoring the feeling of fresh air. You hadn’t realized how stuffing the atmosphere was inside. You let your eyes skim over the tree line, the mountains luring not too far away, the shadows they cast placing an eerie note on the air.

  Your mind recalled you sitting at an entirely different balcony, with a wildly different view. Yes, you’d give anything to sit at one of the high balconies of Cair Paravel once again, to see the ocean open up before you.

  Your thoughts took you to a place you hadn’t been in a while. Though you thought of Minho regularly, you had scarcely thought of your last night in Narnia. Now, it was almost as if you felt his arms around you, his lips on yours. Your mind was clouded by thoughts of him, always him, whispering sweet things in your ear.

  Would you be able to bare it? Would it hurt more, to look after him without being able to touch him? Would you feel better, knowing that you’d done your best to save the only man you had ever loved? What would happen when something went wrong? What if…

  You shook your head, willing your thoughts to come before the question hovering over your head. You tried to control your emotions, desperate to make a decision that was right for you. Not for the world, not Cassandra… Not even Minho.

  But of course… You had to go. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself otherwise. Taking a few deep breaths, you straightened your back, bracing yourself to walk back inside.

  Laughter erupted from the room behind you and you took it as your cue to walk back inside. Hyunjin’s head immediately turned to watch you as you took a few steps and took your seat at the table.

  “We’re all ears Y/N. What is your decision?” Prince Changbin asked you.

  “I’ll go your Highness.” You announced, looking at Hyunjin instead.

  Hyunjin’s face lit up and he pushed his chair back to come pull you into a hug.

  “Well I’m so glad you’re taking your Prince’s marriage so seriously. I hope you’ll do the same for mine” Prince Changbin said.

  “Of course, your Highness” Hyunjin said.

  Changbin gave a hearty laugh and you smiled at Hyunjin next to you.

  “I think you’ll have to excuse us, your Highness. I have to pack and we have to rest. We’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t we?” you asked Hyunjin.

  He nodded, turning to bow before Prince Changbin and you did the same. He dismissed you quickly, calling his guards to lead you out.

  You allowed Hyunjin to walk you back to your room, knowing fully well that you weren’t ready to be alone yet.

  “Y/N” he called you when you stepped in front of your room.

  “Yeah?”

  “You made the right call. We truly need you there… Minho needs you there” he told you.

  “Don’t. Let’s just not, Hyunjin” you said.

  “Y/N, listen.” he started, but you stopped him.

  “No. I’m going to go pack. We’ll talk tomorrow” you told him.

  Without waiting for an answer, you walked in your room, closing the door firmly behind you. You heard Hyunjin curse outside, before walking away.

  “Well. Let’s pack” you told the walls of the room, which felt smaller than ever before.

--------------------------------------------------------- 

   The first light of the day found you wide awake, staring outside your window. You took it as your cue, getting dressed and packing a few last things before you went down to the stables. You were saddling your horse when Hyunjin walked in, his smile brighter than ever.

  “Good morning, traveler” he greeted you and you couldn’t help the giggle that fell from your lips.

  “This isn’t a camping trip, Hyunjin” you tried to bring him back to reality.

  “Oh really? Then what is you and me travelling through the lands, occasionally stopping by to sleep?” he joked.

  You shook your head, all finished with your horse. You were walking it out when an unexpected figure blocked your way.

  “Your Highness” you greeted him, bowing deeply.

  “I came to see you off. Cassandra is still asleep.” He informed you.

  “I’m honored, your Highness” you said, resuming your walking.

  He followed you, as you knew he would. Your stomach turned in a funny way when he walked around your horse to stand next to you. There was something about him that made you feel uneasy, and it wasn’t just his reputation.

  “Y/N” he said, bringing you back from your thoughts. “I need you to know I meant what I said last night. I wish we could’ve gotten… Closer”

  He made a step towards you and you felt your back hitting your horse’s saddle. You felt like throwing up.

  “Your Highness, I’m afraid I don’t really understand” you managed.

  “Oh really?” he said, cocking his head to one side. “I’m just saying I’d love the same thing you’ll be giving to Minho”

  You gasped loudly. You almost brought your hand up to smack him, but exile wasn’t what you needed right now. You searched for words in your brain, to tell him just how disgusted he made you feel.

  He seemed to read your disgust in your eyes, for he shook his head looking at the ground.

  “We’ll give it a try anyway” he told you, almost like a promise.

  “No, I don’t think we will” you answered him, glad you’d found your voice again.

  Changbin was about to answer you, when the sound of Hyunjin’s happy whistling stopped him.

  “Y/N, it’s time” Hyunjin announced.

  You nodded your head, quickly mounting your horse. Your gaze skimmed past the Prince and onto Anvard, the castle you’d called home for a short while. You let your mind place a fleeting kiss on top of Cassandra’s head, before kicking at your horse and moving forward.

  So you rode. No matter how much you pestered him, Hyunjin refused to disclose the secret location where you’d be meeting the Prince, Jisung and Jeongin. You’d be there shortly, only a two days journey from Anvard.

  The first day flew past you as you rode back onto home. The very air seemed different as you rode with Hyunjin at your side. It felt like taking a deep breath after a long dive, like hugging someone you loved after a bad day, like hearing a good joke for the first time, like the cleansing feeling that overtook you after crying your heart out.

  Once you passed a river that could have been Glasswater Creek, Hyunjin proposed you made camp. The sun had only begun to set when you finally got the fire going and Hyunjin returned with two decent sized squirrels.

  “I told you I should’ve gone hunting. I fucking hate squirrels” you nagged at him.

  “And I told you I can’t start fires for shit so what good could your game have been?” he asked you.

  “Well, thank Aslan I have my connections” you said, walking to your saddlebag.

  You walked back to the fire with some bread and cheese, a small dinner, but it would have to do. Hyunjin looked at you in disbelief, shaking his head.

  “You’re eating the squirrel. And you’re gonna like it too” he told you.

  You bickered back and forth for a while, which lead to you actually eating some of the squirrel and leaving Hyunjin with the better part of both. It felt weird having someone you could trust again, bickering and laughing with.

  Not long after your small dinner, Hyunjin’s breathing evened out mid conversation, leaving you to stare at the stars. It had been so hard for you living in Anvard where the stars were barely seen. Now you were back home, your heart soared while looking at the familiar skies, finding constellations and loosing yourself in their beauty.

  You must have fallen asleep without realizing, for you woke up with a start. You looked into the tree line, a sound coming from inside. You looked over the dying fire to Hyunjin, who was deeply asleep, huddled up in his blankets. You decided not to wake him, unsheathing your sword and walking inside the trees.

  The sound kept getting louder the further you walked and soon enough you could make out your name being carried from tree to tree. Goose bumps raised at your skin as you reached a small clearing. There, all sounds stopped and time almost stopped flowing.

  A great lion walked past the tree line opposite from you. You couldn’t mistake him for anyone else, having heard stories told of him all your life. You dropped your weapon and fell to your knees, your gaze falling to the ground, too stunned to face him.

  “Are you scared, child?” Aslan asked you, his voice deep and booming through the quietness.

  “No, sir” you answered him.

  “Then why won’t you look at me?” he asked again.

  “I am looking at you, sir” you said, removing your gaze from the ground and meeting his.

  The weight of his stare wasn’t as daunting as you feared. You felt comforted more than anything else, comforted and at ease. Aslan was always here to help, never to destroy, so you breathed evenly and waited for him to speak.

  “Tell me, Y/N, do you love him?” he asked smoothly.

  Despite his laid back tone, the question took you aback. You worried for your answer, your mouth lagging behind your mind.

  “I- I don’t” you stuttered and Aslan gave you the closest thing a lion could get to a smile.

  “You know of whom I speak, Y/N. There is only one man in this land for whom you have affection for, am I correct?” he asked, his tone serious once again.

  You felt like he was looking through you, right past you and into your heart. You knew there was no point in hiding things from him, that he would pry them out of you anyway. You decided to answer truthfully,

  “Yes.”

  “Are you ready to die for him? For die some must to show their love.” He said.

  “Yes.” You answered him again.

  “Good. I am here, to give you a prophesy… One that shall fall only on your ears and that is yours to see through. Do you understand?” he asked you.

  “Yes, Aslan, I do” you replied.

  “He who is to sit upon the highest throne, must first lose what he values most to keep the peace. For an enemy lurks between his midst and he will find him only when it is too late. And keep the peace he will, and marry well and Narnia shall have seven good harvests and two new sons, to rule and carry it and make it great again.” He finished.

  “Lose… An enemy in his midst… Aslan I don’t-” you were saying, information floating around your brain.

  “None of us do, child, until it is too late” he told you.

  “I’m going to die. Aren’t I?” you said, more a statement than a question.

  “Are you scared?” he asked you for a second time that night.

  “No. Just sorry” you said, thinking of Cassandra.

--------------------------------------------------------------------- 

   You woke up to Hyunjin softly shaking your shoulder to wake you. You pushed his hand away, sitting up and facing your surroundings. A dream? Or a trick? Hyunjin sensed your unease, sitting by your side until you calmed down.

  “A nightmare?” he asked softly.

  “No. I just forgot where I was for a second” you told him truthfully.

  After a quick breakfast, you were ready to go again. You were a little sore from a whole day of riding yesterday, but you brushed away the screaming of your muscles, needing desperately to sort your thoughts out.

  Hours of you being lost in your thoughts passed and you were sure of two things. One, last night wasn’t a dream. Not at all. Two, you had to be extra careful with your steps from now on. Aslan’s words were like a stamp in your head and once again you were feeling like you could trust no one.

  “We’re almost there. Try not to bite off my ear” Hyunjin announced.

  Reality hit you hard, as you understood that the reason for not telling you where the hideout was, wasn’t because he didn’t trust you, but because you wouldn’t like it. You scoured your surroundings for a more clear idea of where you were, but you didn’t find any hints in the trees and small hills.

  “Just behind this hill here!” Hyunjin told you, almost giddy.

  You turned the hill, finding yourselves in front of a vast plain. The wheat had overgrown, almost reaching your feet on top of your horse. Hyunjin raced in front of you to a small rise on the opposite side of the plain.

  And then you understood.

  “HWANG HYUNJIN I’M GOING TO KILL YOU” you screamed, urging your horse to go faster to catch up with him.

  You heard him laugh, a hearty and throaty laugh that made you smile despite your anger.

  “THIS IS THE BEST YOU COULD COME UP WITH?” you shouted at him as he got down from his horse making his way inside the mouth of the tomb.

  “Keep your voice down! This is a sacred place!” he scolded you.

  You rolled your eyes, but did in fact stop talking while Hyunjin paid his respects. The room was dimly lit and cool, your voices echoing throughout it. The cracked Stone Table loomed at the center, a carving of Aslan with the sunrise behind him only a few feet back. You lost yourself in his calm face, your thoughts racing back to your conversation the precious night.

  “Hyunjin!” a voice called, snapping you away from your thoughts.

  You turned around to see a young boy running up to Hyunjin, hugging him as a form of greeting. They fell into easy conversation, going back and forth for a few moments before Hyunjin was reminded of your presence.

  “Jeongin, come meet Y/N. Y/N, this is Jeongin” he said, pushing Jeongin towards you.

  “I’ve heard so much about you! It’s great to finally meet you!” he said, unsure of what to do next.

  You took a look at his smiling eyes and messy mop of hair and were reminded of Hyunjin, how young he looked when you’d first met him.

  “It’s very nice to meet you too. Hyunjin wasn’t subtle to singing your praises” you ultimately said, putting a hand out for him to shake.

  He took it willingly, despite his cheeks turning scarlet in the process.

  “Jeongin, the Prince?” Hyunjin asked.

  “Oh, yes, yes of course. Let me get the horses. Jisung and I made somewhat of a stable. And we have rooms too, come, come let me show you!” he urged you on.

  Jeongin gave you a small tour of the grounds, showing how he and Jisung had used the different chambers of the place to fit your needs. While still maintaining your doubts, you admitted that you were impressed with what they’d done.

  Jeongin led you to your makeshift rooms, a small chamber with a mattress, a desk and chair and a basin with water.

  “Not bad… for a tomb” you said, making Hyunjin roll his eyes.

  “Freshen up, I’ll go tell the Prince you’ve arrived, then I’ll come and get you.” Jeongin offered and you nodded.

  You placed your bags down in the corner of the room, lying on top of the mattress. You let out a long sigh, closing your eyes and trying to sort out your thoughts. The reality of the situation hit you fairly quickly as you realized you’d be seeing Minho in only a few moments.

  You splashed water on your face, trying to clean up. You rubbed your hands together, cursing at the dirt that had found its way under your fingernails. You were dreading to see his reaction. What if you had changed too much? What if he had changed too much?

  A soft knock at your door made you jump. You composed yourself, opening the door to find a smiling Jeongin and Hyunjin.

  “He’s waiting for you” Jeongin stated simply.

  He didn’t wait for an answer of any sort, only turned on his heel and led the way forward. You shot Hyunjin a “What is with this guy?” look, which made him chuckle, shoving you playfully for being mean.

  Not long after, Jeongin was knocking on a door, comically raising his eyebrows at you before walking in and taking you with him. Your heart assumed a crazy beat and you almost felt dizzy as you walked inside the room, bowing respectfully along with Hyunjin.

  “Get your shit together. You haven’t even laid eyes on him yet” you scolded yourself.

  You looked around the room that served as what you guessed was an office. Maps and scrolls were laid everywhere, with a big desk dominating the center of the room. And behind it, stood Minho.

  He had a stern look on his face, almost looking angry. His eyes were trained on you and you did your best to return the stare. He didn’t look good. His cheeks were hollowed out and it was clear that he wasn’t eating well. Half-moons of blue circled around his eyes, which seemed to have fallen back on their sockets. His hair was different too, cut pretty short onto his head, perhaps an attempt to conceal his identity.

  “Everyone out” he barked, making you shiver.

  You turned to walk out the door with the others when his voice stopped you.

  “Not you, Y/N. You stay.”

  You closed the door, turning around to face him. You clasped your hands behind your back trying to contain their shaking. He took two long strides and he was in front of you, your bodies inches apart. He continued to stare at you with something in his eyes, something you couldn’t put your finger on.

  “Say something” you pleaded in a whisper.

  “Why would I do that?” he asked.

  And you were kissing. You didn’t know how it happened, but his lips were placed on yours in a hard kiss. You felt like you were dreaming, and yet, this was the most alive you’d felt in years. The kiss was urgent, showing his passion and neediness as Minho’s tongue graced the roof of your mouth, your teeth hitting against his. You were touching him, your hands roaming his back, your fingers running through his hair. His own hands danced all over your body, finally settling on the back of your neck, keeping you in place.

  Suddenly, uncalled for, you were brought to your senses. You bit down at his lips, hard, pushing him away from you. He got back with a yell, a smirk finding its way on his lips.

  “Stop.” You said, the word sounding wrong as it came out from your mouth.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Is this why you brought me here? To do… This?” you asked, motioning between you and him with your hand.

  “You know that’s not the reason.” He told you, making you glare at him.

  “You have a funny way of showing it.” You retorted.

  Silence reigned over the room as both of you tried to read the other. Soon enough, you felt small under the weight of his gaze, shivers running up and down your back. You hugged yourself with your hands, looking away from him and he moved across the room, sinking on a chair behind the desk.

  With some distance laid between you, you started to feel better, breathing again and trying to put yourself together. His voice startled you when he said,

  “You look good. Was Archenland okay?”

  “Yes it was. Not quite like home, but it was okay. A little lonely I guess” you confided in him.

  He nodded at your words, taking them in.

  “Well everyone says I look like shit. So guess you’re thinking it too, just can’t really say it.” He snapped, as if what he was telling you was somehow your fault.

  “If you’re going to snap like that every time we talk, I don’t think this is going to work” you said, scolding him.

  You saw hurt flashing in his eyes, only to be removed by rage.

  “You think you can tell me what to do? How to act? You’re just a low life piece of shit, what do you know about anything?” he fired his blows at you.

  You stood tall before him as he screamed, breathing hard.

  “Go on then, let it out! Scream at me, as if it’ll make a difference! How gives a FUCK about what you’re saying to me? You think I care? Oh, my Prince just insulted me. You think I’m going to cry? Beg for your forgiveness? No. You forget it have somewhere to be. It’s you who’s pushed up against a wall with no one to turn to but me. So you’re going to play nice. Right, your Highness?” you asked sweetly, dropping the harsh tone you had throughout your talk.

  Only then you realized you had really pushed him back against the wall and his eyes were burning. You took a step back, wanting to put some distance between you once more. His hand found yours unexpectedly and you cursed at your heart for betraying you by skipping a beat.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry” he said, the rage in his voice replaced by remorse.

  “I’m sorry too, your Highness… I was out of line, I-” you were saying when he stopped you by cupping your face with his hand.

  “No, you’re perfect, just perfect” he said only for you to hear.

  Your foreheads were connected, your breathing coming out labored.

  “You’re engaged” you whispered, the disbelief evident in your voice.

  “I’m also getting death threats. I thought I might have to mention that before we proceed any further” he retorted.

  “Well that’s a buzzkill.” You tried to joke.

  You felt his smile rest like a badge of honor on your chest. You mirrored his expression, smiling up at him.

  “You think the others are thinking we’re killing each other in here?” you asked.

  “Right. The others” he said, as if the thought just occurred to him. “You know, when I’m with you it’s hard to think of anyone else.”

  You felt the heat rushing up your cheeks, which made you shake your head and untangle yourself from him. He sighed at the loss of contact, loud enough for you to hear. You leaned on the desk, looking at him from under your eyelashes.

  “Don’t look at me like that. It makes me want to kiss you even more” he stated matter-of-factly.

  He walked away from the wall he was pressed against, moving across the room to rest his hand on the doorknob. Before doing anything else, he turned to you, looking at you longingly, as if there were miles separating you.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  You gave him a small nod, which was his cue to open the door. He called for Jisung, who walked in the room only moments after.

  “Captain, it’s very good to have you here” he said as a greeting.

  “Not a Captain anymore Jisung. Just Y/N” you answered.

   “Just Y/N. That sounds nice” he smiled at you.

  “Get everyone here. We need to talk” Prince Minho announced, breaking your small moment.

   And talk you did. Minho sat you all down as you went around in circles, fleshing out the details of your plan. After several disagreements and hours of going back and forth, you finally settled to a decent plan.

  First, you’d drop the formalities. It was just another way to give yourselves away and you didn’t have the privilege to get caught. Second, you set up a schedule for watches and scouring the perimeter, exit plans and meeting points in case you had to scatter.

  Then, came the important part of the plan. If no one made a move for two fortnights, you’d use your connections to spread rumors that Minho fled the country to avoid his arranged marriage. Then, you’d allow for some time to pass, not really sure how long, and if nothing happened even then, everyone would be going home. Hopefully safe and sound.

  You still felt uneasy, the shadow of an enemy making the way you were making your plans feel fruitless. Your head was throbbing, making you feel even more moody as you retreated to your small room.

  Your last thoughts that night consisted of Minho and how it would come that you’d have to lay your life down for him.

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  The first couple of days were spent by trying to find a rhythm to make everyone happy. In the mornings all of you would eat together from the stash that Jisung had managed to gather. Then, usually you and Hyunjin, occasionally Minho, would go out hunting for your dinner. You’d set up a pretty good field of traps, but still, you enjoyed going out, even if it was only for a little while.

  After catching some game, there were endless hours you’d fill in any way you could. You were the one to shoulder Jeongin’s training, as Minho was too preoccupied to do something about it. You sparred with him for a couple of hours at a time, molding him into a better soldier. You taught him some archery, but he was only now beginning and he had a long way to go. Hyunjin would sometimes watch, giving his own tips and helping, though not taking it as seriously.

  At night, you’d scour the perimeter around you, looking for any sign of someone spying on you. You’d also search for people coming your way, trying to be prepare for any change to your repeating patterns. Your sleep was peaceful after a long time, your nightmares thankfully stopping, which you attributed to knowing that, ultimately, you’d be the one to take Minho’s place.

  And so days passed as you played the waiting game. One day, you were sitting at the corridor that led to the Stone Table, gazing at the drawing of the four Pevensies who were waiting to take their thrones. Someone sat themselves next to you, snapping you away from your thoughts.

  “Hey” Jisung said, getting comfortable next to you.

  “Hey” you answered simply, your gaze meeting the former Kings and Queens again.

  Jisung seemed content with the silence as he followed your gaze.

  “Do you think they really existed?” Jisung asked abruptly.

  “What? Of course they existed” you answered, taken aback at the absurd question.

  “I don’t know. They sound too good to be true. Queen Susan especially.” He told you.

  “Why her?” you asked him.

  He took a few moments to think about it, probably trying to gather all the reasons why he felt that way.

  “I mean… She’s pretty and she’s nice, she doesn’t believe in ranks and treats everyone equally. She’s Queen next to her other brothers and sister but she’s not thirsty for power. She has a killer bow and arrow that never miss their mark but she’s not one for warfare. She is good at making peace negotiations, sensing what others what and immediately granting their wishes… Too much?” he said, questioning himself.

  You took a few seconds to absorb his words, your eyes meeting Queen Susan’s on the wall.

  “I mean… I see your point. But she’s Queen. Almost a Goddess. She’s supposed to be perfect” you said.

  Jisung hummed at your answer, taking your words in. You didn’t give him much time, your own thoughts running ahead of you.

  “But take Queen Lucy for example. I for one, have a hard time to believe she’s perfect. In a time where humans don’t exist in Narnia, she hangs out almost exclusively with satyrs. She is one of the first to jump in warfare, second only to King Peter. She looks down on her duties, training vigorously instead of helping the others rule. She’s strong- headed and bad at finding solutions. But hey, she’s strong and awesome and kicks ass so who cares, right?” you finished, turning to look at Jisung.

  You find him giving you and amused look, almost ready to crack up as he was listening to your words.

  “What’s so funny?” you ask him.

  “Oh, it’s just the correlations between you are clear as daylight to me” he confesses.

  You gasp a little, his answer not what you were expecting. You start to think about it better, think about yourself a little. And there it is; the truth is staring at you right at your face, and yet you were too blind to see it.

  “Jisung, do you think it was a bad choice for me to come here?” you ask, changing the subject.

  “No, Y/N, I don’t. I think we’d be lost without you. Most of all, I fear he wouldn’t bare it” he said.

  There was no need to specify who ‘he’ was. You both knew. And ‘he’ knew it as well.

  “Thanks, Jisung.” You said, patting the younger one’s knee before getting up. “I need to do my rounds for tonight. Tell Hyunjin I’m taking first watch too”

  You didn’t expect an answer, just turned on your heel and left. You let the wind hit you, enjoying it after being stuck inside for hours. You did your rounds, scouring the perimeter and thankfully finding nothing in sight. You went back, taking your place at the entrance of the cave, weapons in hand.

  You tried to entertain yourself by naming different herbs and sorting them alphabetically. Although you were lost in your thoughts, you didn’t miss the sound of footsteps coming from behind you. You listened carefully, trying to distinguish who it was, but to no avail.

  “Y/N” Minho called, making you shut your eyes tight before turning to face him.

  “What are you doing out here?” you asked as a greeting.

  Minho chuckled lightly while shaking his head. He sat down next to you without another word, even taking your hand in his in the process.

  “Minho, what…” you let your voice trail off, not sure what you wanted to ask in the first place.

  “Let me just sit here with you for a while. Just the two of us. We don’t even have to talk. Just let me sit here” he told you and you could see the urgency in his eyes.

  You nodded, fearing your words could fail you. You knew this wasn’t wise, the very person you were trying to protect, sitting out here in the open, readily available for anyone to see.

  But you sat there nonetheless, as Minho held your hand, painting odd shapes with his finger on the back of it. The sensation made you shiver, causing Minho to turn to look at you.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, pulling you into his arms without waiting for an answer.

  His body heat seeped through your body as you let yourself be held by him. The sensation felt almost new, as you had both changed so much since the last time he held you like this. You were surrounded by his scent, getting lost in it, all burnt matches and mint and Minho. You closed your eyes, turning your head to rest against his.

  You felt close to tears, wanting nothing more than to attach your lips to his, have him keep you close again and stars to explode behind your eyelids. But you couldn’t have that. You couldn’t have him.

  Or maybe you could. The words of the prophecy were still bouncing around in your head as you opened your eyes again to look at Minho.

  Minho, the Prince of Narnia. Minho, the boy you trained when he could barely hold a bow properly. Minho, the boy you fell for slowly, but realized only when you were in too deep. Minho, who kissed you senseless, until you melted in front of him, his, always his.

  The man before you was the same one you left that night years ago. And yet… he was different.

  “Sometimes it feels like I need to get to know you all over again. Is that crazy?” you ask him in a whisper.

  He traces his hand through your hair before answering, his other hand never leaving yours.

  “I don’t know. I think we all changed after the war. Some of us for the better, some for the worse. And yet, I’m still the same person, I still want the same things” he said, his eyes drifting to your lips with the last word.

  “I still want the same things too. Maybe some new ones, but still the same idea” you said.

  “Let’s hear the new ones then” Minho urged you on with a smile.

  “I want you to be safe, that’s never going to change. But I also want Cassie to be safe and I wish I could do them both at the same time. I want my parents to be happy. I want Prince Changbin not to touch me. I want to stay close with Hyunjin-” you were saying when he cut you off.

  “Changbin touched you?” Minho asked, the anger evident in his voice.

  “I shouldn’t have said that” you said, wishing for the little slip up to be forgotten.

  “I’m going to kill him. Did he really go after you like that?” he asked again.

  You continued looking down, not answering him. His heart was beating fast, you could feel it where your back was touching his chest. You tried to keep your cool, knowing that you could possibly add fuel to the fire with every word you said.

  “I need you to tell me. It can’t be worse that what I’m imagining right now” he pleaded, and the very last of your defenses broke.

  “He… Insinuated that I’m just coming here to give myself up to you. And that he’d like the same treatment once I go back.” You told him, feeling more embarrassed than you’d ever felt.

  You saw his expression change instantly, rage overtaking his features. You squeezed his hand, trying to offer the least level of comfort you possibly could.

  “Go get Hyunjin. You’re done with this watch.” Minho said curtly.

  “Minho, it’s barely been an hour-” you were saying, but he stopped you, pulling you both on your feet and shaking his head.

  “No. You’re coming with me. That’s an order. Go wake up Hyunjin” he said, pushing you lightly to the direction of your rooms.

  You did as he asked, knowing that he was in no state to talk reasonably right now. After waking up Hyunjin, who said he’ll be out in a minute, you went back outside where Minho was waiting for you. Without saying a word, his hand found yours again and he dragged you to his own room.

  The chamber they had chosen for him was visibly larger from yours. They had carried a full bed for him, which reigned at the center of the room. A chest was sitting at the one side of the room, while the other was decorated by Minho’s suit of armor.

  You had barely walked in when Minho spun you around, crashing his lips on yours. This kiss was as passionate, but less forceful than the one you had shared merely days ago. You whined into the kiss, feeling your heart crack open to reveal itself to him.

  You broke apart, stopping you both from getting to a place you couldn’t come back from.

  “Minho…” you started, letting your voice trail off as you both breathed heavily.

  “I know what you’re going to say. We shouldn’t be doing this, I’m engaged, it’s not right… I’ve heard all of that before, Y/N. You think I don’t know it? But we can’t help us. We never could. So what’s really the point of pretending?” he said, walking a bit away from you and running his fingers through his hair.

  “The fact is, we’re all waiting here for an assassin to show himself and try to kill me. I’ve even managed to gather all the people I care about outside of my family here, to face this threat with me. And it’s killing me. It’s tearing me apart every night you go out there, because I fear you won’t come back. And I don’t think I’ll be able to live with myself if that happens.” He finished.

  “Minho, we all came here willingly. I traveled across the country to come to you because I knew I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you and I wasn’t there to protect you. We all knew the risks and yet we all came. Not because it was the right thing to do, or our duty to our Prince. Because we love you. I love you” you told him, your voice faltering at the last words.

  He came to you at once, holding you by your neck and whispering I love you’s with every kiss. You didn’t realize you were crying until he kissed away your tears, never failing to make you love him even more than you already did.

---------------------------------------------- 

  You woke up the next morning in a tangle of sheets, legs, arms and Minho. For the first time since you got there, he seemed peaceful, no knots on his forehead, his brows not furrowed together. He slept soundly next to you, his breathing even, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. Your eyes traced the line of his jaw, his closed eyelids, his nose, his full lips.  

  You placed a soft peck on his lips, trying to untangle yourself from him. Minho whined in his sleep, holding your hand and bringing you closer to him.

  “Stay” he whispered, his voice hoarse from sleep.

  “Jisung could walk in any minute. I have to go back” you whispered back.

  He groaned, burying his head in his pillow and then in the crook of your neck. He breathed in your scent and your hand instinctively patted at his hair. He smiled as he got back up to kiss you sweetly, making you smile yourself.

  “We’ll figure it out. I promise. Besides, everyone knows you’d only be able to resists my charm for so long” he joked and you playfully pushed his head back on his pillow.

  You were able to go back to your room, thankfully undetected by anyone else some time later. So on the days that followed, you and Minho used this pattern, and it worked. Everyone noticed you growing closer during the day, the static atmosphere around you having dispersed. They didn’t mention it however, brushing it off as you followed your duties and Minho followed his.

  Then, at night, after your watch ended, you’d shuffle into Minho’s room, where he was waiting for you. The words of the prophesy stayed in the back of your mind, but you couldn’t deny yourself these stolen moments of happiness. You kept your eyes open, yet you had difficulty suspecting any of your companions.

  Jisung was loyal to a fault, willing to give his very life for Minho if he had to. Hyunjin had gone to all the trouble to travel south to recruit you and besides, you knew he loved his country too much to betray it in any way.

  Then there was Jeongin. Jeongin was sweet and kind and willing to take up any task. He was doing well in his training, learning more every day. He was always smiling, spreading happiness over any room he entered. You knew that you should be suspecting him, and yet, in your heart you knew the boy wasn’t able to hurt much more than a fly.

  Weeks passed, and it was finally time to start spreading the rumors. Minho used every connection he had and made sure the rumors would be shared far and wide.

  “Another round of the waiting game.” You told Hyunjin bitterly.

  “Yeah… I know” he answered.

  “Is it me, or does it feel like we’re losing?” you asked.

  Hyunjin took a few moments, deliberating your question.

  “I think now is the time we need to stick together. Stay sharp. Don’t slack off. Anything could happen at any moment.” He said.

  You nodded at his words, turning to look over the Stone Table again. You sent Aslan a silent prayer to guide you, help you fulfill your destiny.

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  It had been a few days since the rumors were out and you and Hyunjin had taken it upon yourselves to go hunting. Bow and arrow in hand, you scoured the woods for any decent game that could come by. You and Hyunjin both turned to look at each other when you heard voices not far from where you were standing.

  You nodded at each other, crouching down to get closer to the voices. You discovered a small clearing that had become the camp of some travelers. Five men sat down around a fire, conversing loudly. They were dressed plainly, but their weapons showed that they weren’t simple villagers. Hyunjin nudged your shoulder, pointing at one of the shields that was laying close to you. Archenland’s sigil.

  The dots started connecting themselves in your brain. “An enemy between his midst” didn’t mean someone in your company. It meant someone in the Prince’s circle. You knew you should’ve trusted your gut feeling when it came to Prince Changbin, now feeling even more disgusted at the thought of him. Your heart went out to Minho, who was always especially fond of the other Prince…

  You and Hyunjin made a few steps back, out of hearing distance. You both started talking at the same time, keeping your voices low. Hyunjin was the one to step down first, waving his hand for you to speak.

  “You need to go back. You’re faster than I am. You need to get Minho here” you told him.

  “Absolutely not. I’m not leaving you alone.” He retorted, shaking his head.

  “Hyunjin, you have to. I have to stop them if they try to move, maybe hear what they have to say. It has to be you” you tried to convince him.

  Hyunjin didn’t seemed convinced, but he knew that you were making a fair point. You linked your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug.

  “I’ll be okay, I promise. Go.” You told him, turning him around and pushing him to the opposite direction.

  He broke into a run, turning around once to look at you. You braced yourself, going back to the clearing and concealing yourself the best you could. Eavesdropping on the men’s conversation, you weren’t surprised not to hear anything of importance.

  They were grumbling about one thing or the other, how long this job was taking, how their wives were not good enough for them. Once Prince Changbin’s name came up, you decided you needed to go even closer to get a better chance to listen.

  You were moving on all fours when you stepped on a dry leaf, making it crunch under your boot. You held your breath, hoping the bushes around you would conceal your body.

  You felt yourself being dragged by your shirt, as you let out a growl, demanding for them to put you down. They sent you flying to the ground and you felt your knees and hands meeting the ground harshly.

  “If it isn’t Y/N… Fancy seeing you around these parts” The voice you recognized as Captain Seungmin’s said.

  You met his eye, not saying anything, only piercing him with your stare. He scoffed, turning away from you and pointing to a man behind you.

  “You! Go back and bring the Prince. Tell him we’ve found the wench and she will lead us straight to Prince Minho.” He ordered and the man ran away with a smirk on his face.

  You cursed yourself, cursed your rush and your greed to hear more. You almost got up when two men grabbed you harshly from behind, tying your hands behind your back and making you stand in front of the Captain. You looked at the faces of the men and realized you knew none of them.

  “Assassins” the realization hit you.

  You stayed silent as Seungmin pestered you with questions, looking on to the trees around you.

  “You know Y/N, I can be very convincing.” He said, taking a dagger out of his belt and turning it around in his hands.

  You kept your silence, though visibly gulping hard.

  “The Prince said he wanted you alive… He didn’t mention in one piece” Seungmin whispered in your ear, placing the dagger on your wrist and applying just enough pressure to make you bleed.

  “I’ll never tell you where he is” you spoke up for the first time.

  Seungmin chuckled behind you, walking around to face you again.

  “I believe you, you know. That’s why I’m going to kill you. We can tell Prince Changbin it was an accident, that you fought too much, that it was your fault really.” He threatened you.

  You took a deep breath, hoping to ground yourself. You looked on, and you spotted movement from behind the trees. You kept your face neutral, trying not to show anything as you didn’t know if it was your salvation or your demise.

  Then a ray of sun caught at Jisung’s ash blonde hair and your heart skipped a beat. Seungmin was whispering in your ear again, telling you he was going to fuck you before he’d kill you and you almost laughed.

  “NOW!” you heard Minho’s voice, spurring you into action.

  Υour knee met with Seungmin’s groin and his stomach immediately after. You pushed him to the ground with your leg, your movements being restricted by the tight knot at your wrists.

  “Minho!” you shouted, trying to catch his attention.

  All hell had broken loose over the small camp, grunts being heard from everywhere as everyone was held up in combat. You tried to move towards Minho and he did the same, pushing his foe off of him and running towards you.

  “Minho you have to leave, Changbin’s coming and he-” you were saying as he was making quick work on the restraints at your wrists, when he started talking over you.

  “Changbin? What is he doing here? No matter, he can help us” he said but it was your turn to stop him.

 “No, no Minho he’s behind this” you tried to explain, shaking your head.

  Your movements were cut short, your words dying at your mouth as pain, seething pain started spreading from the place over your heart. You looked down to meet the head of an arrow slightly peeking out of your chest. Your feet gave out from under you, but luckily, Minho was there to catch you.

  He placed your body softly on the ground, warning you first before pulling the arrow from your back. You screamed at the pain, tears streaming down your face. Minho was shouting orders left right and center as you struggled to breathe next to him.

  With shaking hands, you caught him by the shirt, using all of your strength to pull him closer to you.

  “No, don’t talk, we’ll fix you right up” he consoled you.

  “It’s okay, Minho, it’s okay. I just wanted to see your face… Before I…” your voice trailed off.

  “I love you so much” you thought, as your breath hitched in your throat.

  Your hand dropped next to you, as your heart gave up in your chest.

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   “MINHO” Jisung shouted, trying desperately to catch the Prince’s attention as more men walked in the small clearing.

  “Jisung, go!” Hyunjin said, pushing him out of the way and taking over the fight with his foe.

  Jisung did as he was bid, running to the Prince’s side. His heart ached at the sight of your still body, but pulling Minho away from you was a harder task than he had bargained for.

  “Minho, listen to me, you need to go, they’re coming!” Jisung tried to reason with him.

  “No.” Minho almost growled.

  “Minho…” Jisung tried again, but Minho pushed his hands off of his shoulders.

  “Get me Changbin” he growled, moving to his feet.

  “If you do this, she died for nothing!” Jisung screamed after him, still trying to hold him back.

  “So be it.” Minho muttered under his breath, brushing Jisung’s hand off of him.

  “Friend!” Changbin hollered from across the clearing as Minho bee lined to him.

  Minho waved his sword, meeting his friend’s unsheathed blade. With the rage cursing through his veins urging him on, he managed to disarm his opponent with a few clean hits, pushing him against a tree, his blade touching Changbin’s neck. The fight had brought them away from the clearing, giving them some kind of privacy.

  “Why?” Minho said, not recognizing his own voice.

  “Why? For power, of course. I have two older brothers, and they aren’t giving up the throne any time soon. But if you get out of the way, I can find my way into your little sister’s pants and on top of Narnia’s throne in no time” Changbin said, laughing.

  Minho pushed his sword further up Changbin’s neck, blood gushing through the wound he was inflicting on his friend.

  “You’re going to die for this” Minho threatened him.

  “Go on then. Kill me. My neck is right here” he said, baring his neck for the other man to hit.

  Minho hesitated for a few seconds, causing Changbin to laugh at him.

  “I knew you didn’t have it in you. Little Prince Minho, too late to show up in battle, too scared to fight, too-” he stopped mid-sentence as Minho dug his sword deep in his belly.

  “Or not” he said softly, spitting up blood, his cocky attitude forgotten.

  “Stay here. Die alone.” Minho spat at his old friend, grabbing the fallen one’s sword and going back to the clearing.

  “People of Archenland!” He called, the attention on him, making almost every movement cease.

  “Your Prince has died! Whatever generous offerings he had promised you after he assumed Narnia’s throne are no more. Go home, and we will not pursue you. Tell your King, his son’s body shall be buried in the grounds he wanted to soil. Go, now! Or you shall walk no further.” Minho finished, breathing heavily.

  The men scattered, leaderless, failing to meet even each other’s eyes. Minho didn’t spare them a second glance, walking around to Y/N’s lifeless body. Kneeling beside her, he took her cold hand in his, finding his heart breaking all over again.

 A scream shook through his body, echoing throughout the woods. Jisung’s comforting hand found his shoulder and Minho for once didn’t brush it off. He allowed himself to be comforted, for his chest felt like it was being tore open, the pain almost unbearable.

  Jisung’s hands were around him, rocking him softly back and forth. Soon enough, Hyunjin joined him, his tears landing on the ground under them and mixing with the blood that had poured out of Y/N’s wound. Jeongin shyly joined them after a while, sniffling now and again. Their grief rose as time passed, Minho continuing to scream when the pain got too much.

  No one was quite sure how much time had passed once they finally got back on their feet. Minho insisted they had to carry Changbin back too, but once they went to retrieve his body, he was nowhere to be found.

  “Assholes. I let them live and they-” Minho was raging, when Hyunjin’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

  “Let it go. Not now” he said, his voice hoarse.

  Minho nodded and they walked back to the clearing. Some more bodies were laid there, but Minho only saw hers.

  “It’s that one” Jeongin spoke up.

  “What?” Jisung asked him.

  “He killed her. With her own bow and arrow. I cut him down after I saw, just like she taught me, small but hard movements. I killed him” Jeongin said, horrified.

  He was pointing at an unknown man’s body. Hyunjin only recognized him as the unnamed Captain that he had found sitting with Y/N the day they met again. Minho was the first to move, approaching the younger boy, pulling him in his arms. Jeongin seemed stunned, but nevertheless hugged him back.

  “You did well. I’m proud of you” he told him.

  More tears stained Jeongin’s cheeks as he put his face in his hands. The Prince patted his head, trying to comfort. Moving next to her body, he hauled her up in his arms but he denied when the others offered to help.

  “This is something I have to do. Let’s go home” the Prince said.

  And then there were four. The others saddled the horses as Minho sat, mindlessly staring at Y/N’s lifeless form. Soon enough, they arrived back in Cair Paravel and Minho carried her body down to the crypts, were only former Kings and Queens were buried. The others followed closely, except for Jeongin, who went to recount the events of their adventure to the King and Queen.

  Somehow, the words of the prophesy became known to the people, whispered from mouth to mouth about the girl that was laid under Cair Paravel, who was the one thing the Prince loved most. The words reached Jisung’s ears, who heard them whispered in the kitchens one day. It wasn’t long after that the Prince himself heard them, realizing the sacrifice Y/N had made for him.

  At the crypts under Cair Paravel her body stayed, long enough for Minho and his wife’s bodies to join hers, after many prosperous years had passed. Satyrs made songs for her and nymphs used her name to name their children, keeping her memory alive. Every knight in Narnia called to her, the hero of their age, to send them wisdom and strength. And though she was long gone, her memory lived on.

[galattea]

‘Til it Gets to Me

Ingrid Brandl Galatea; a character analysis or - the things to cross her mind as the world goes dark

Primary Pairing; Ingrid/Sylvain Words: 3,029 Ao3

I suppose "character analysis" is a bit of a loose term. I had initially intended to be much more direct about the deeper intricacies to Ingrid's personality and feelings, but it ended up becoming a lot more plot driven. I haven't written much (if anything at all) for FE3H and I haven't publicly posted a work in what is almost two years now, so forgive any formatting errors along the way. 

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Broken voices compete with the sounds of metal tearing into metal. They harmonize in a way that makes Ingrid’s spine grow rigid. She’s high above it all, hot wind nipping at her knuckles as she loops her stallion’s reins over them once more. She raises her left arm and then levels it horizontally. A cacophony of battle cries and beating pegasus wings is the response as her fleet scatters to their assigned directions before she herself leans forward and feels the weight of her mount follow her. In one practiced movement, Ingrid draws Lúin from her back and shifts her grip.

They’re nearing the ground now — Ingrid can feel her hair slick itself back against the wind as she raises her lance toward the group of archers she’s taken to targeting. She catches one through the shoulder before her pegasus has even met the ground, and is directing her full momentum towards the smaller one a few feet away when she feels the air around her spark with electricity.

Fuck.

Of course she had expected defensive measures to be put in place the first time she’d lead her fleet to pick off the empire’s ranged soldiers while those on the true battlefield dealt with their familiar swords and spears. But they’d caught her off guard by waiting.

Ingrid tugs her reins sharply to the left and meets eyes with a mage twice her size. She knows better than to try and take him out alone with two bowmen still standing behind her, and before she can fling herself into more danger than necessary she presses her heel to the base of her mount’s wing and is airborne before the crack of lightning hits where she had just been. She prays to the goddess that she didn’t just kill off the rest of her air support by overusing a strategy and watches the ground beneath her grow smaller.

She scans the battlefield as quickly as she can before deciding her next move. Deciding it best to continue her attacks behind enemy lines, Ingrid targets her next dive toward a more isolated corner of the fight.

Her heart thrums in her chest, emerald eyes locked on the dark head of hair she is heading straight towards. She can feel the determination to right her errors by pulling as much weight as she possibly can bubble up in her throat as a battle cry.

But it fizzles out in the air as the wind is knocked directly from her.

The shrill cry of her pegasus brings her eyes to its neck. Three arrows are buried there, blood staining the silver coat in which they found their mark. Ingrid is acutely aware now that she is falling backwards, the beating of her mount’s wings stilled. She knows exactly what this means for her.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Ingrid had never been ashamed of her home in Galatea. It was a noble house, after all, and it had been maintained as well as possible since her county’s golden days. That didn’t change the fact that it was fairly small, or the way that its age was ever present in the now lackluster walls and furnishings.

That was, until she had begun spending time in the homes of her friends.

She knew she was a much lower name on the list of Faerghus’ nobles, but as a child what that really meant had never quite crossed her mind. It was on her first visit with her father to Fraldarius that she realized just how quaint her lifestyle truly was.

But it was in there that she felt the most comfortable - where most of her childhood leisure was spent. It was in Fraldarius that she fell face first in love for the first time.

(She would later realize that love wasn’t the word for what she had felt for Glenn, but rather a naive childhood admiration.)

The elder Fraldarius had made a brash first impression on Ingrid when she was freshly eight. She had seen him train many times from afar by then, but never had they spoken. It wasn’t until she all but slammed face first into him as she chased Felix through the long hallways that Ingrid heard his voice for the first time.

“A knight is worth nothing with his head in his arse.”

Ingrid knew not why he spoke such a phrase to her, but something about the annoyed look on his face made her recoil back in shame.

After that Ingrid found herself enraptured by Glenn. She spent the next year lingering longer than she ever had in front of the training area in which he spent his time. He was so young and so gifted -- his body flowing effortlessly with each swing of his sword and the concentration on his face never faltering. She was awestruck. She wanted to watch him forever.

Ingrid’s designation soon changed from her “Glenn’s betrothed” to “underpaid babysitter.” With her fiancé’s training becoming more and more serious, her ability to spectate became less and less frequent. Instead, she found herself chasing the bright red hair of Sylvain Gautier through the courtyard of Dimitri’s summer home in Fhirdiad, an enraged Felix at her side. Sylvain’s laughter had rang through the well manicured trees like a bell. -- And then Ingrid is thirteen and her whole world comes crashing down. The news of the tragedy reaches her bedroom in Galatea well into the night and she finds her mouth agape and heartbeat stopped. She feels a pang she had never known could exist in anything but books. It is in the same hour that she swears her life upon becoming a knight.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

The monastery fills Ingrid with dread, but her attitude changes the moment her gaze passes the stables. It is there that her passion for riding is sparked. Of course she had spent years alongside noble horses, but never before a creature so magnificent as those that were housed at Garreg Mach. Her spare time is quickly invested in offering her aid in whatever way possible. Between her studies and time caring for the pegasi, Ingrid finds herself enjoying the company of new friends in a way she had not expected. Ashe is quick to grow on her; he is soft and kind and lingers around the stables some evenings to watch her work and discuss old stories of knights. Annette and Mercedes take much more time to acquire her fondness -- she never dislikes them, only struggles to warm up to their constant begging for her to indulge them and their games of dress up. It is through them that Ingrid realizes she has a much repressed fondness for skirts, and she finds herself looking forward to their interactions more and more. Her childhood friends, however, offer a much different company. She spends many lunches conversing with Felix and Dimitri over their studies and many more evenings sparring with Felix as he aids in her swordsmanship. It is Sylvain that she finds the most troublesome. Since they were little he had always been a man after any woman’s heart, but with the introduction of freedom he had become quite the serial flirt. She knows deep down that he is doing it to rebel against the version of himself that his father projects upon him, that he harbors no true malintent towards the hearts he breaks, and it is for that reason that she continues to clean up after him despite her complaints. She does not acknowledge the strange twist she feels in her gut every time he leaves the room early to go entertain some maiden. -- Luin’s arrival to the monastery is something Ingrid does not expect. Her father was never a fan of the way his daughter had turned from a princess with her hand belonging to a fine noble into a knight with no care for romance alongside his sons, and she takes the offering of House Galatea’s relic as acknowledgment and approval of her choices. She feels honored.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

A soft knock upon her door startles Ingrid awake and she hoists herself from her bed. It’s well after midnight, she notes, lighting the oil lamp beside her bed and opening the door. On the other side she sees the back of Sylvain’s head as he turns down the hall. She clears her throat and he halts, a sheepish look on his face as he turns back to face her. There’s a cut on his upper lip, and dried blood caked in his hair. She blanches. “Where in hell-” She is already scolding as she ushers the taller boy into her room, “How? Sylvain, what in the name of Seiros are you doing here instead of an infirmary.” “If you wanted me in an infirmary so bad you wouldn’t have just brought me into your room,” he points out. It takes everything in her not to slap him. He perches on the edge of her bed as Ingrid digs furiously through the drawers of her vanity meant to store powders and makeup. Instead, she withdraws a glass bottle and a cloth. Her footsteps are silent as she pads back towards her bed and seats herself on her knees beside him. There is something about seeing Sylvain hurt that twists her stomach. She watches her hand intently as she raises the now damp piece of fabric to the side of his head, pretending not to notice the way he leans into her touch. There is no grimace or complaint as she gently rubs the alcohol over what appears to be an impact wound, presumably from another man’s armor. “You’re not seeing double, are you?” “No ma’am,” Sylvain responds, and Ingrid is once again overcome with the urge to backhand him. The cut takes a good moment to clean, with delicate fingers struggling to part bloodied hair without causing any unnecessary pain. When it is nothing more than a bright pink and angry line in his scalp, Ingrid sits back on her haunches. She folds the cloth, spending far too much time finding a clean spot before gently raising it to the bottle of alcohol again. She sets the glass back upon her bedside table before placing her hand on Sylvain’s cheek. Butterflies erupt in her stomach as their eyes meet. She can’t fight the urges -- can’t stop herself from leaning forward. He watches her, confusion written in his expression. They flicker to her lips. She closes her eyes. His lips are soft, terribly so, she notes as they meld together. Ingrid swears they stay like that for hours, lips moving softly against one another, before she realizes what she’s doing and draws back. Sylvain’s eyes are wide, but he hadn’t stopped her. He had even returned the kiss. “Ing-” “Out of my room,” she feels the harshness in her voice and the blood rushing to her cheeks but she refuses to look at him. He stalls for a moment, gaze boring holes into every inch of her skin, and then retreats. Ingrid is left in candlelit silence. Tears stream down her face as the alcohol from the cloth soaks into her clenched fist. She doesn’t meet his gaze again for a week.

--

There is some sort of silent agreement in place as Ingrid sets her books down on the table and seats herself right beside Felix. Her head falls to his shoulder and he doesn’t flinch or tense or shove her away. Instead, he rests his cheek on her forehead. A vigil is held in the cathedral, in which candles are lit and silence hangs heavy over students who never knew the fallen. To Ingrid it feels wrong and disgusting to put her grief on display in front of her peers. She assumes Felix feels much the same. There are no words for how they feel. The past four years they had spent in a wordless pact to protect one another where they couldn’t protect Glenn. Ingrid laces her fingers through his and feels warmth trickle down her face. There is no ceremony that can aid the ache she feels. So they sit in their own silence, pressed against each other as though the world depends on it.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

In all of her years spent there, Ingrid had never recalled Galatea being so suffocating. She doesn’t know how to feel. In one beat she wishes to be fighting in defense of her prince like she had always sworn herself to, but in the next she feels herself seethe at the mere idea of enabling Dimitri’s rampage. It feels like she’s fighting an uphill battle with her own ideals. But it is her father that brings her to a decision. Count Galatea had never truly enjoyed his daughter’s sudden desire to fight on the frontlines. Ingrid knew this much, and saw it evidenced in the way she found herself followed by suitors at least once a week. She tries to remind herself that it is because he cares about her. “It’s nice to have you home,” he is seated behind his desk, arms folded on the heavy oak. “It is nice to be home,” Ingrid smiles. “I’m glad to finally have my daughter off the battlefield.” Ingrid’s smile falters. She says nothing as she leaves his office. Her fingers wind through her hair and suddenly it is far too long for her taste. Without a second thought, she pulls an old pair of scissors from her desk. That night, she leaves for Garreg Mach.

--

She doesn’t miss the expression on Felix’s face as her mount trots toward the courtyard. Sylvain is poised at his side, a grin plastered upon his face. They both look so much different, although she supposes the same could be said for herself. “You’re late,” Sylvain calls. Something in Ingrid’s chest reacts to his voice. “Goddess forbid,” she laughs, swinging off her stallion as she reaches the two of them. “Nice hair,” Felix’s expression doesn’t change as he speaks, but she supposes she’ll take it as a compliment. Her old dorm is exactly as it had been left. Ingrid doesn’t let her mind linger on that for too long as she unclasps her breastplate and places the heavy armor on her old bed. Sylvain clears his throat from the doorway and she jumps. “So what made Galatea change its mind?” She shrugs at him, not meeting his eyes as she works to take off the rest of her armor. She can feel him roll his eyes. “Did you finally get sick of your father?” “Possibly.” He laughs at this, closing the door behind him and seating himself in her old desk chair. He looks a mess now that she sees him up close; the circles under his eyes are deep and his voice is hoarse. “He's still trying to send you off?” “Trying to keep me off the battlefield, more like,” Ingrid smooths out her blouse. “Not many suitors to be called upon when the majority are out here.” “I suppose,” he agrees, and she hopes she isn’t imagining the relief that flickers across his face. “And yourself?” the question leaves her mouth before she can think twice about it. “No ma’am,” he chuckles, leaning against the back of his chair. She lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Ingrid’s fingers search frantically for leverage in the thin linen of Sylvain’s shirt as he kisses her. It isn’t the same as it was when she had kissed him all those years ago. It’s hot and it’s fast and there’s the weight of their own lives on their shoulders that presses them closer together. The mat on the floor of the makeshift tent isn’t the most comfortable thing Ingrid has ever been kissed on, but she doesn’t object as calloused hands lay her down. The fire outside is dim now, but its light pokes through the fabric that covers them and bounces off of Sylvain’s features like artwork. His eyes are heavy and his breathing is ragged as he strains against the bandage wrapped taut around his shoulder to lean over her. In the middle of this war, Ingrid is in heaven. They fall into each other, desperate to communicate words they don’t have time for in heated touches until they’re holding each other as though they’ll never see each other again once they’ve let go. It is there that Ingrid decides it. She is in love with Sylvain. She has been, since they were teenagers. It feels like a shot to the chest as she acknowledges this -- allowing herself to admit love for someone who was not Glenn after so many years. She doesn’t say it, but Sylvain knows. There is no way he doesn’t. He doesn’t return it, though, that much she is aware of. He holds her to his chest and breathes in her hair, and Ingrid allows herself to believe that, just for that moment, he is hers. That night she falls asleep to the sound of his breathing. —

Someone is screaming her name from a distance but she doesn’t turn to investigate. Her right is crushed under the weight of her long dead pegasus and her head is swimming.

“Ingrid -” she can make out a dark head of hair approaching her, can feel arms pulling her from beneath the horse. The aching has long stopped alongside the thudding of hooves and cries of soldiers. The battle is over.

She’s slung over someone’s back and he smells so familiar.

“We did it,” he’s saying in a voice she recognizes but with a strain she doesn’t. “We won, Ing. You did it.”

She coughs, something wet dripping from her lips.

“Glenn,” her voice is hardly a whisper. The person holding her stills. “I did it, Glenn.”

“You did,” the voice breaks.

“Don’t cry,” she’s smiling but she doesn’t register it, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Ing,” he replies, followed by a choked sob.

Her eyes are suddenly too heavy to bear. Her breathing stalls.

It is to the sound of Felix’s cries to a goddess that won’t answer that lull her to rest.

[kansasvenomoth]

Fire Emblem Awakening x Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim - Chapter Two

Just a couple hundred feet from where the Khajiit landed, he had watched as the two sides approached. Unable to hear from afar, it appeared to him they were discussing a bit of strategy, or at least that was what it seemed before the red clad army had attacked. Normally, Ja'vassa would jump in without thinking; he was never officially a part of the Stormcloaks, though since his sister passed, he always seemed to align himself with them whenever he encountered their skirmishes with the Imperial Soldiers. Since he didn't know which side was the 'right' side and which one wasn't, he pressed himself against a small, broken down structure; his outfit providing for perfect camouflage. He was perfectly content with watching the skirmish, but that was until he noticed a strange pair running into the scene. A young girl and elderly man; from what he could see, the girl seemed absolutely terrified of everyone around her.

"Just... just leave me alone!" The girl shouted, cowering from the man chasing her. Their sudden appearance seemed to have disrupted the skirmish between the red and blue armies. The elderly man's eyes widened after she yelled, "Oy! Quit with the yelling! Giving away our position would be bad, no?" He said, seemingly concerned with both armies at this point.

"Hey! Leave her be!" The leader of the northern army shouted, aiming a strange looking sword his way. "Ah, there she is.. consider this punishment for fleeing!" The red leader shouted in return. It seemed this was enough to convince which army the Khajiit should support, though he would remain behind just to see what would happen. After their sudden appearance and the brief timeout, the battle would resume; sword and spell clashed with much ferocity from both sides, it seemed the girl was slowly growing used to the man as he was genuinely trying to protect her. What was more surprising was the fact that the girl was able to transform into a dragon; it didn't seem that she really needed any help, but even with all that power, they were doomed to fall back. Without help from the other army, they were slowly being overwhelmed. The mercenary's sword had been knocked away while the girl had been separated from him, growing exhausted from the seemingly endless battle. She had been cornered by a pair of mages, both preparing lightning spells in the hopes of incapacitating her.

Before they could fire off the magic, Ja'vassa had made himself known to both sides. "Wuld... Nah Kest!" He shouted, using the Whirlwind Sprint to grab and move the dragon to safety, staring at the would-be attackers from behind his mask. The girl in his arms looked more surprised than afraid, as did the warriors watching the spectacle. "Who in the blazes are you?" The blue haired prince asked, staring in confusion. "I'll explain later, just worry about getting rid of the red guys!" Ja'vassa shouted in return, setting the girl back down. "You stay close to me... you should do the same." He said to the mercenary. In one hand, he wielded his signature war axe and in the other, had an Icy Spear spell at the ready. Once the confusion and surprise of yet another newcomer had died down, the battle resumed, but this time it was going in the favor of the prince's army. Ja'vassa's combination of speed, magic, and his shouts proved to be too much for the opposing army.

Trading magical attack for magical attack, and physical blow for physical blow, the opposing army would slowly be whittled down to just the leader and a few grunts. "Damn you.. this.. this wasn't supposed to turn out like this." Chalard growled, glaring at the Khajiit and the Prince. "Prince Chrom and this... stranger. My army may fall here, but soon you will suffer at the hands of Grima." He added, making a fruitless attempt to fight Ja'vassa's unplanned allies; this as one would expect turned out poorly for him. Being outnumbered nearly three to one, him and the remaining were quickly cut down, and those who chose not to fight have since fled from the battlefield. After what seemed to be an eternity, the battle between the two armies had finally come to an end, much to the relief of many of the combatants.

As one would expect, some introductions were needed. The girl had approached Ja'vassa smiling slightly. "Thank you for saving me.." She said to him before turning to the mercenary. "And.. thanks for helping me back there, I'm sorry for being so rude to you."

Ja'vassa shrugged, "Don't mention, I wasn't about to sit back and watch a child get hurt like that." He responded, soon being cut off by the girl. "I'm not as young as you might think.." She said, a slight giggle escaping her lips; though her statement was met with a confused look. "My people age pretty well, I'm probably around a thousand years old, but look! No wrinkles."

"I.. see. It seems I'll have plenty to learn here." Once again, Ja'vassa had been cut off again, this time by the leader of his unplanned allies. "You're quite the warrior, friend. I'm not sure where you came from, but.. I've never seen anyone with skills like yours. If you hadn't shown up, we might've lost this battle. Thank you." He said, extending his hand out to him. "My name is Chrom, leader of the Shepherds. Mind if we get yours?"

The Khajiit nodded, shaking his hand before he'd remove the mask to reveal his feline-features to a surprised Prince. "I am Ja'vassa, a wanderer from Tamriel." His own introduction only led to more confusion. Before he'd respond to the Khajiit, Chrom had turned to one of his allies. "Robin.. have you ever heard of that place?" He asked, whispering slightly. This question was met by a shake of the head, "No.. I haven't. Judging by his appearance, I'd assume maybe he's a Taguel like Panne?" Robin suggested, though it was clear he was rather confused. "I don't intend to offend you, but we've never heard of Tamriel before." He said to Ja'vassa, rubbing the back of his head in an awkward manner.

A soft laugh escaped the Dragonborn's lips as he listened to the pair, "I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it, Tamriel is beyond this realm. It's the land of my birth and depending on how my task here goes, it'll likely be the land of my death too." He explained, though before either the prince or tactician could respond, he had been met with an all too suspicious gaze. "Are you here to bring home to Ylisse or her people?" A tall, blue armored fellow asked, keeping a lance in hand. "What exactly is this task of yours?" Depending on Ja'vassa's answer, it seemed the knight was ready to strike.

This suspicion from the knight received a glare from the Dragonborn. "I assure you, I have no interest in harming anyone. I've been sent to do some studies of this world for my Lord. I cannot say for sure what his intentions are, but I simply intend to do as I was tasked. I do not know if he'll bring me back tomorrow or in a thousand years." This explanation seemed to be sufficient for the knight as he lowered his lance and stepped back. Chrom would be the next to speak up. "I apologize for Frederick.. he's a bit protective of the group, he means well, but he take some getting used to." He said, grinning as Frederick rolled his eyes, though the knight did nothing to argue that.

Now that the lovely conversation was over, Chrom had changed the subject. "Alright, while my tactician and I begin planning our next move, why don't you three join my sister for dinner at our camp?" He suggested, "After we're done, I'd like to extend an invitation to the three of you to officially join the Shepherds." He added, giving them a slight bow before heading off with Robin and Frederick. Nodding in response, Ja'vassa would join Lissa and the others, hoping to see what the rest of the group was like before he'd made his decision. In his mind, there were plenty of positives and negatives to joining them. On one hand, perhaps joining a militia would make it easier for him to do the research of his Lord, not to mention it might be useful to make some allies for as long as he's there. On the other hand, he's never been one to take orders from anyone beyond the Daedric Princes he worships; this being the reason he's not yet joined the Stormcloaks or Imperials. There's also the case of his less than savory past; if that came to light, there's no telling what might happen to him. The Khajiit wasn't worried about them killing him or arresting him, he was more than positive he could take on the entire army without a problem, but, he was hoping to start over and turn over a new leaf. Decisions, decisions... he wasn't sure what to do. For now, he'd focus on trying to get to know the others of the militia.

[benisasoftboi]

Unorganised Thoughts on Cindered Shadows:

Spoilers! All the spoilers!

Yeah it took me a week to finish it, as always, I’ve been busy

It’s possible that someone will remember that I’ve made a few of these, and that I said I’d be doing Crimson Flower next, but haven’t. I have finished that route. I wrote something up. It ended up being over 8000 words long. I decided no one would want to read 8000 words of me complaining about fantasy politics, and did not post it

If anyone is interested in knowing in detail what I think about any or all of the following: Edelgard (short version: good in concept, but severely let down by the writing), Fodlan’s politics (surprisingly complex! Which is why the main characters’ having such simple and naive politics is so frustrating!), Rhea and the church (she creeps me out), general opinions on minor things (most controversial: I actually like F!Byleth’s outfit) or various shipping opinions/headcanons (I like pretty much any pairing except Dimitri/Anyone, and Linhardt and Caspar with anybody but each other), give me a shout and let me know. I won’t be holding my breath, but like... if you want me to ramble I wouldn’t say no

Anyway! Cindered Shadows!

New characters ranked by how much I like them as characters, most to least: Yuri, Hapi, Constance, Balthus 

Reasoning: I love pretty boys because I am, emotionally, still 12, stoic-type girls are also great and I love her design, she annoyed me a little at first but I thought the sunlight thing was interesting and she eventually grew on me, and I don’t dislike him at all, he’s just the least interesting to me

New characters ranked by how much I like them as units: Balthus, Yuri, Constance, Hapi (ugh, I really like her but she was total deadweight for me)

I’ve always really, really loved the concept of both underground cities and groups of people who have nothing in common aside from being outsiders, bound together by that one shared trait - so I. Love. Abyss. I wish the whole game was set there, it’s so cool

Some really good maps! Actually, let’s review each level:

1: Good intro to the Wolves. Aside from the ‘secret fourth house’ line, which is bad and makes what is otherwise a great concept sound really dumb. But the map itself makes for a very good demonstration of each of the Wolves’s deals. Bit messed up that you kill a bunch of Abyssians and no one really addresses that again, though

2: Even the game comments on the fact that releasing four waves of enemies in a circle gets tiresome. Least favourite

3: Wish the game had been a little clearer of the exact requirements for finishing the map. Also, enough reinforcements to almost be too annoying, but it managed to just avoid that, for me at least

4: This fucking level. I love an escape map in concept, but that goddamn doll at the start. I don’t know how I would have beat it if I hadn’t realised Edelgard can be reclassed out of her armor for better movement (speaking of deadweight units... was the same on Crimson Flower, Lord ranking in terms of actual usefulness in battle is Claude > Dimitri >>> Edelgard, and I say this as someone who normally loves defense-based units in video games). Anyway, despite the fact that it took me like six tries, this was my favourite of the lot - partly because it was so satisfying to finally beat, and partly because, like I say, I just love the concept

5: Breather level, thankfully. Cool to see Metodey again. But... why is he there??? I made Edelgard kill defeat him

6: Starts out really hard and gets easier. Biggest problem for me was the Bolting mages. I found that the trick was to use Ashe’s battalion gambit on Byleth and counter from afar with the Sword of the Creator. Map’s a cinche after they’re gone

7: A really, really cool final boss fight, and really great to just get to fight a big monster without having to slog through hundreds of other enemies as well (two per turn is fine, gives characters like Ashe who are too weak to fight the boss something to do). And there’s no way I could find to cheap it like on Crimson Flower (something I had to do then because of Cyril and his goddamn Murder Axe). Only wish it wasn’t the case that half of the Wolves can basically never touch the boss without being insta-killed. Hapi and Constance should have been able to do more than Phantom Aelfric Clean-Up

It was really nice getting to have all the Lords work together. I had Edelgard and Dimitri do a Gambit Boost and it was weirdly emotional

Am upset that no supports were available. Primarily because this would have been a great opportunity to add some side-story exclusive supports between the Lords. I get why they couldn’t do that in the main game, but I think the lack of any connection between them (besides the mostly one-sided Dimitri->Edelgard) is one of the game’s biggest downfalls, and this could have at least compensated a little

At least we got a few conversations in Abyss

Oh I wonder who the traitor could be, who is it, of the five characters we’ve met it couldn’t possibly be the really generic looking old guy who wasn’t in the trailer oh my god I’m so shocked it WAS him this is an unprecedented twist the likes of which we will never be graced with again

Liked getting some back story and an actual name for Byleth’s mother

I want to know how ‘Noa Fruit’ became a thing. Linhardt alludes to it, but I want that lore. Give me the Fruit Lore, Intsys

Also give me Mysterious Woman lore

I’ve said this before, but Gatekeeper x Abysskeeper OTP

Why can’t Yuri and Linhardt support I want them to bond over being smart bisexual pretty boys with grappler best friends (I have a very long mental list of characters who should have had supports together but don’t) 

Yuri’s make-up is gorgeous. Love that design choice

The ‘Nabatean Chalice’ reminded me - I’ve kind of always wondered if Nabatea is meant to be a call back to Nabata from the Elibe games, or if it’s just coincidence that they sound similar

Will we ever find out anything about the Crest of Ernest or nah? (Fiver says if ever, it’ll be randomly explained in a Forging Bonds in FEH like three years from now. Wouldn’t put it past them) 

So Byleth’s nickname was the ‘Ashen Demon’. And these guys are the ‘Ashen Wolves’. I kind of figured that would come up? Was it a translation thing?

I love how the reasons for each of the Wolves being in Abyss were “I barely escaped execution by the Church for the crime of murder”, “I was experimented on and now have dangerous magical powers”, “I’m the last surviving member of a collapsed noble family” and “I’m in like, so much debt, lol”. Kind of makes me wonder if Leonie ends up down there in some of her endings

Although I hear that there’s actually a little more to Balthus, as revealed by supports. I haven’t seen all of them yet, the only one I’ve looked up was Dimitri and Hapi because those two interacting intrigued me and... I know what I said above, but this might actually be a Dimitri pairing I don’t dislike? What is this???

I’ll watch the rest at some point, but won’t be starting a new 3H playthrough. Rune Factory 4 Special finally comes out next week and the moment my pre-ordered Archival Edition shows up at my door, it’ll be Fire Emblem who? The only dragon I know is Ventuswill, and the only empire I’m worried about is the unfortunately named ‘Sechs Empire’

Although, the fact that Kiel and Caspar have the exact same voice might end up being... hmmm

Eh, I got over Doug and Yosuke Hanamura. It’ll be fine :)

[paladin-andric]

11/11/11 Tag

Thanks to @corishadowfang​ for the tag! Sorry this took so long but I’ve been pretty shot the past couple days.

Rules: Answer the eleven questions, make eleven of your own, then tag eleven people.

1. Do you have a WIP for NaNo?  If so, what’s it about?

Sort of? I’m not really doing Nano officially, but I’m trying very hard to wrap up Blackheart this month.

2. Are there any things you’d really like to write about that you haven’t had the chance to yet?

I’ve got a story about dragons invading late medieval Europe on the backburner. It features actual historical figures that were in power at the time, like famous Polish King Casimir the Great, Pope Innocent VI, and more! Some events change due to the dragons’ invasion, like the massive war ending a power struggle in the Holy Roman Empire and ensuring Louis V, son of the previous emperor ascends to rulership, where as in our timeline he lost out to Charles VI and ended up being the Duke of Bavaria. In this story most of Europe is destroyed and the survivors flee to the Byzantine Empire, which intends to make a stand at Constantinople. The son of the dragons’ leader spends a large portion of the story being held captive in Constantinople, and is interrogated and persuaded throughout the story.

3. Plotter, pantser, or plantser?

Plantser, I guess? I plan the framework, and sometimes I have a scene I really want to make a certain way, but for the most part it’s touch and go.

4. What is your favorite part of the writing process?

The creative process. Just daydreaming about all sorts of scenes and scenarios is incredibly fun. When it comes time to put it to paper though it gets tougher.

5. What does your editing process look like?

Spellcheck and extension. I usually write a scene haphazardly and then add more dialogue and descriptions when I return.

6. Is there a scene in your WIP you’re particularly proud of?  Share it!

This scene in the chapter “Field of Dreams” chapter of Blackheart, it’s my favorite chapter in the book honestly. As a prelude, how this works in Blackheart is that demons capture people and turn them into mindless beasts. Earlier on, a paladin runs into a corrupted birdwoman as he journeys through the city. He goes to kill it like all the others, but when she starts begging for help he realizes the survivor is still clinging on deep in there. He tries to bring her somewhere safe to perform a purity ritual to save her. She struggles and eventually is overcome by the corruption. The last thing she remembers before waking up in darkness is the paladin choking her as she begged for mercy.

Fianna suddenly found herself standing in nothingness. All around her, terror filled the air.

Voices of the damned screamed at her, dark visages stared from afar and corpses and flames littered the expanse.

Other  corrupted lurched forward, hobbling toward her, screaming and howling  as they closed in. The darkness had come to claim her at last.

She could only cower in as absolute fear gripped her heart. This really was it.

The  crowd latched onto her, dozens of unholy beasts dragging her into the  ground. She could feel herself falling, sinking into nothing as her soul  was trapped in the nothingness.

Just as she felt her head begin to sink under, to join her body in eternal torment, a loud noise brought everything to a halt.

The  beasts dragging her to the abyss suddenly paused, turning away and  looking up. She too joined them in staring up into the blackness.

The  sky flashed a bright white, the corrupted monsters, in unison, all  crumbled away. They simply fell apart into nothing at all, scattering to  the wind and leaving Fianna alone.

The screams let out a loud  unified wail before the blackness, all around her, flashed wildly,  vibrant colors flowing through the air and filling the void with light.

She  felt numb for a moment as she found herself no longer sinking. The  koutu clenched her talons as she lay on the ground, panting and heaving.

"Fianna."

Dozens of voices filled the air. Unlike the screams of the damned, these voices were clear, coherent, and sweet as honey.

She looked up, and all around her, as the void pulsed with light and color...figures surrounded her.

They were familiar. All of them.

Her family.

Her friends.

Everyone she could ever remember meeting.

One of the figures stepped forward.

She  was a tall and graceful koutu, every step dignified, her eyes full of  warmth and love. Her feathers were patterned the same as Fianna's...

Her feathers...?

She looked down.

The jet black feathers were changing, warping.

The  blackness seemed to almost...bleed away, the feathers beginning to glow  with color in the middle, expanding outwards until the blackness was a  simple lining at the ends of each feather.

Soon, that tiny bit of   blackness bled away, and her feathers were her own again. Her midsection  was a bright and beautiful orange, while the rest of her was mainly a deep, vibrant blue.

Just like she remembered.

She looked back up at the other koutu, whose coloration and shape was the same as her own.

"Sister..." Fianna said breathlessly.

"You are free," she spoke softly.

"B-but, the demons, you were-"

"I know," her sister assured her, "I know. I am no longer here...but even though I am not here...I will always be HERE."

She pressed her hand against Fianna's chest...over her heart.

Fianna could feel herself crying again.

She  reached out and embraced her sister. The older koutu returned the  gesture, the two of them kneeling and hugging each other tightly.

They sat in silence like this for quite some time.

For the first time since the attack, Fianna felt alive...even though she had the sneaking suspicion she wasn't.

The paladin was right. This was better. She was thankful.

The nightmare was over.

"I missed you so much," Fianna said, her face damp with tears.

"I missed you too."

"I'm so happy we're together again."

Her sister was silent for a moment.

"...you know you're not dead, right?"

Fianna blinked.

"W-what?"

"You have to go back."

The koutu's eyes widened as comprehension dawned on her. "N-no, no!"

"I'm sorry," her sister said quietly, "I know you don't want to."

"Sister, please..."

"I can't control it, Fianna. It's your life, not mine."

"T-than how are you-"

"Because this isn't real."

Fianna's heart sank.

She was in her own imagination, dreaming about being with her family again, rather than actually being reunited.

Her grip tightened on his sister, who looked at her curiously.

"Fianna?"

"I don't want to let go..."

"Trust  me, I understand," she answered quietly. For the first time, her voice  too was filled with pain. "I want to be together too."

"I-I just...want it to be over."

"You have to get through this," her sister spoke, "Please. Don't end up like me."

Fianna couldn't believe this was happening.

"I  want you to live. Can you do that? Please. I've been watching you, you  know. I know how hard it's been...but you've come so far. You're so nearly  there. Just a little more. Please...you have to hold on, okay?"

Fianna nodded.

"O-okay...okay, I'll do my best."

The two sisters looked up and stared at one another.

"I'll keep watching you. I know you can do it. Be good for me, alright?"

"O-okay."

"I'll be waiting for you, someday."

With that, everything faded away once again.

7. Is there an author that inspires you a lot?

I wouldn’t say particularly. I like certain books but I don’t really “follow” anyone like that...well, maybe some of the other writers on here.

8. Do you do anything to prepare yourself to start writing?

Put on some music and grab a drink.

9. What’s your favorite type of villain to write?  To read about?

Villains that you love to hate. After so many ““““sympathetic”””” villains (this mass murderer got bullied by people that have nothing to do with who he’s killing, he’s justified!), it’s nice to have a villain that’s just plain evil and knows it. Someone that’s so shamelessly bad that you’re just dying for the heroes to give em’ his comeuppance. Also, villains and antagonists can be very different. Someone like The Boss from MGS3 is an antagonist, but she could hardly be called a villain. Sympathetic antagonists are a lot easier to root for than someone that’s out and out a bad guy.

10. What is the best compliment you’ve ever received on your work?

Probably either @lady-redshield-writes​​ or @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword​. They’ve both said so many great things I can’t even begin to remember all the nice stuff they’ve said.

11. What are your characters’ favorite animals?

Considering his shield and family crest, Alexander’s is probably the eagle. Leianna likes dogs. Lexius and Senci both like cats.

My questions:

1. Do you make steady progress in writing or work in short bursts?

2. What’s your favorite character archetype?

3. Favorite fictional hero? (Can be from any media) Has that character influenced any of your own?

4. What sort of scenes do you struggle most with? (Fights, group conversations, etc.)

5. What time period do you find yourself writing the most of?

6. Do you enjoy music, background noise or silence while writing?

7. Where’s your favorite writing spot?

8. Do you like people reading along as you write, or do you want people to wait til’ it’s all edited and done?

9. Share a random hobby besides writing!

10. If you could have your cast from your story visit another time or world, real or fictional, where would it be?

11. Have any of your characters changed or developed drastically since they were first created?

Tagging @lady-redshield-writes​, @homesteadchronicles​, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword​, @candy687​, @ashesconstellation​. Joining in, as always, is completely up to you.

[darthmanius-abandoned]

What Lexa Kom Trikru Means To Me (My Story)

And why my fight is over...

(Trigger warnings)

I was diagnosed at 8 with Asperger’s syndrome. I was the weird kid that liked Star Wars while all the other girls played with dolls. I was swinging lightsabers around like swords the moment I could walk.

While all the other girls wanted to be a princess, I wanted to be a warrior. I wanted to be able to protect my little sister when the boys would chase her around the school yard. I wanted to protect my gay friend when he was beaten with sticks in 3rd grade. Everyone laughed at me, because I was a girl. They teased me, they made me sit alone every lunch time, even the teachers talked about me like I was a zoo animal.

Since the age of 8, I have hated myself for being me.

And then it got so much worse.

From the age of 10, I’ve known I was a lesbian. I went to Catholic schools so I grew up hearing how homosexuality was wrong and a sin and you go to hell for it. So at age 10, I would obsess over my friends who were girls that I developed crushes for, convincing myself that I saw them like sisters and nothing else. I would cry myself to sleep every night because I was going to hell and there was nothing I could do about it.

When I was 13, I still refused to accept the fact that I was gay. I slept with boys to try and prove to myself it wasn’t true. I was ashamed of who I was. I was convinced that I was worth less than everyone else because I was gay. I felt all alone in the world. I started self harming because I absolutely hated myself. I looked in the mirror and was just filled with disgust. I contemplated suicide many times. Even attempted it twice.

The views that had been drilled into my head were reinforced by the media I consumed. There was always little if no LGBTQ representation. It solidified my belief that I was an alien. I was wrong for being me. I never got into Buffy until I was 20.

Several years ago, I discovered a show called The 100. I loved it because of the warrior Grounders and the compelling characters.

Then, I was introduced to Lexa Kom Trikru.

She was a warrior.

She was a lesbian.

She was a leader.

She was strong.

She was confident.

She was everything I wanted to be.

I loved her instantly. I believed in her. I thought that maybe, just maybe, with her relationship being the main ship on the show, that things were changing. That the times were changing. These people were putting a lesbian relationship as their main ship.

Maybe not everyone thought people like me were wrong.

Maybe I could be accepted.

Lexa inspired me to believe in something better for myself. I even wore her war paint during my Softball grand final. I woke up at 5am to do it before my game.

And then she died.

She died because she walked into a bullet. Like it was nothing. Like she deserved nothing more than that. She didn’t deserve a heroic death. Or even a death with some fucking dignity. She finally got a moment of love and she was killed for it.

(Putting aside the queerbaiting from Jason because that’s a whole other can of worms)

I remember feeling so heartbroken.

“Is that all I am to these people I believed in?” I asked myself. “A number, a statistic? A rating? Is that all I’m worth to you? Is that all LEXA is to you? A plot device?”

My newfound confidence was shattered. I started self harming again. I became depressed. I spent time in a mental hospital. I’ve now been on antidepressants for 3 years.

But there was a tiny bit of hope, because I saw just how many other people loved Lexa as much as I did. Who believed in her the way I did. And I saw that they were just as heartbroken and angry as I was.

And I saw a revolution start. I didn’t feel so alone but I was so afraid of rejection and ridicule like I had gotten all my life so I watched from afar. But I held on to that spark of hope. And it was all because of Lexa.

Recently I came out to my grandmother, and she disowned me for it. That spark is gone again now. And I’m too tired to fight anymore. I want my fight to be over.

Lexa gave me hope for the first time in my life, and now it is gone.

To Clexakru, I want to say this, I have admired you all for the fight you have put up to this day. It has been over 3 years without our Heda and you have kept her legacy alive. I love each and every one of you even though I haven’t interacted with any of you. I admire the strength and determination you have shown. You held them accountable. You made them pay. Lexa lives on through every single one of you. Even if my fight ends soon, know that I will always be with you.

To Alycia: Thankyou for bringing Lexa to life. Thank you for the work and effort you put into her. Thankyou for making her the icon she is today.

To Eliza: Thank you for legitimising Clarke and Lexa’s love every chance you got. Thank you for defying your bosses to tell us they were soulmates and how appreciated we were for loving her as much as we did. Thank you for respecting us. (And congratulations on the marriage)

To Jason: Just fuck you. May you carry the burdens of what you did with you forever because you deserve it.

To Lexa: Thankyou for giving me hope. Thankyou for being someone I could believe in. Thankyou for everything you gave us.

To anyone that actually takes the time to read this: Thankyou for thinking me worthy of your time. I know it’s long, but it meant more to me than could ever be stated.

Reshop, ai hod yu in ogeda.