#candelabra ship child

[askthe-iii-shipchildren]

What was Candle's reaction to Candelabra lighting herself for the first time considering... y'know, Vee died trying to do the same?

(She was very happy =] )

[xinnamonbun]

Inanimate Insanity: Weddings Candelabra & Red: Part 1

@askthe-iii-shipchildren

Remember when you said "they're going to need a ladder when if they get married"?

TA DA! :D

(at least the dress)

LOOK for some reason I've had some wedding fever so when you mentioned it...I JUST HAD TO

Originally my plan was to draw the dress, suit, and then bonus fun stuff that happened at the wedding. However I swiftly realized that I would not be able to do all of that in a day and I wanted to post at least something relating to the wedding on the same day it was mentioned.

I'll probably do Red's suit tomorrow

(Lighter dress Ver.)

Me RN fr:

[infinite-ticking-clock37]

DONEE

@spiritmander13

[hatigave]

TO BE CAUGHT IS A MISTAKE she cannot afford, especially not when the Santa Rosa lays light in the waters of the port with a gaping hole in her hull. The ship, like her captain, was made to lay fat and heavy from the weight of the richest she carried. She was not made to be wounded and slow in the waters. FINGERTIPS BRUSH PAST A SILVER CANDELABRA on her path down the hall. It would be so easy to take it in hand and consider her journey complete, but she has never relished in anything easy, and she's already here         ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ might as well indulge.

Adelé had believed the estate to be empty, or at least empty enough that she was allowed the luxury of wandering around aimlessly for a few more moments ( things lost were not easily forgotten, and wealth still held beauty even when it was not immediately shoved into her pockets. ) Today she was wrong. TODAY SHE GOT CAUGHT RED-HANDED ; like a child with the proverbial hand in the proverbial cookie jar. A shame her hands held trinkets and jewellery so clearly not belonging to her.

❝ So, how is this going to play out ? ❞ Her voice is as light as a song as she places the not-yet-stolen items down at her side. ❝ Would you prefer it if I gutted you right here, or are you more of the type who wants to be left tied up to their bed frame and gagged for their troubles ? ❞

@lenzimanot Lysander ♡'d (and got a problem.)

[jadagul]

One of the first computer game I played was the original Civilzation, in like 1991 when I was 5. And they have maybe thirty distinct units, all of which need clear and immediately legible art in something like 30x30 pixels.

So they were all distinct, but some of them weren't very easy to interpret. You start the game off with this guy:

Which is, of course, a settler. (He founds cities and also builds roads and such.) And as an adult, I can tell that this is a covered wagon. But to child-me it always looked like a tooth.

This is a chariot. I can see what they're going for but I always think it looks like a building with a minaret.

Is this a sailing ship or a candelabra? (It's a frigate.)

This tank could be a cartoon dynamite plunger.

this is the shamed anon who saw a cat and then a snail in a trilobite.

i actually saw it was a trilobite when i saw the larger version of the av. this is the flesh failures. :( *marches off as Let the Sunshine In starts playing*

lmao don't feel bad! most people see either a snail or a chicken i think. "trilobite with eyestalks" is definitely not a silhouette people tend to recognize instantly.

in general, i think it's really interesting how people misread small images like pfps. there are unit icons from Warcraft 2 my brain still insists on misreading in weird ways, even though i know what the "correct" image is, just because it's been doing it for decades and it's not about to stop now.

[sezja]

Starlight

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Ship: Sanson/Guydelot

Context: 1, 2, 3

He's never really celebrated Starlight, Guydelot realizes, watching little Maddie dictate orders to Sanson's other nieces and nephew: they're hard at work building a snowman. Or at the very least, she would like them to be; the little ones are too small yet to do much more than crumble the snow between their hands. Guydelot watches from the safe distance of the back step: close enough to observe, but enough of an outsider to avoid being dragged into the festivities.

He's never really celebrated Starlight.

Oh, his parents gave him gifts during the celebration as a child, of course, and he'd always drifted past the decorations at the amphitheatre, taking in the sights... but that was going through the motions. Never any heart in it. They never decorated at home, never had any particular traditions of any note - unless one counted his mother breaking out her seasonal liquors, of course, and Guydelot always made certain to make himself scarce when she did. His father, as was his wont, always spent the holiday hunting, taking advantage of all the other hunters going home to be with their families.

Not much for sentiment, was Guydelot's father. Not much for holiday traditions, neither.

It's different here, with Sanson's family - Sanson himself doesn't seem particularly festive; they haven't decorated back home, beyond a candle here, an ornament there.

Now, Sanson's family, on the other hand! Gods be good, the manor fair glitters; Guydelot could go blind looking at tinsel alone. Trees, decorated so thickly it's a wonder the boughs don't collapse beneath the weight. Mantles decorated with seasonal knickknacks unearthed from the gods alone knew where, polished candelabras, wreaths and ribbons. The dining room glows with polished platters and silverware, ready for a meal the likes of which could feed an army, never mind their small party. Presents in brightly-colored packages, beribboned and pristine.

The children have already gotten a head start on opening their gifts: a small mound of discarded wrapping paper, ribbon, and other sundry packaging detritus littler the ground near the step. Guydelot plucks a ribbon from the snow, winding it idly between his fingers.

"They'll grow bored of it in short order." Sanson's voice nearly startles him, as the man steps outside and offers him a steaming mug. "The snow. And then they'll fuss that it's too cold." For all he complains, Sanson is smiling; there has always been something in him, some tightly-wound knot, that eases here at home with his family.

Guydelot accepts the mug, savoring the warmth as he cradles it in his hands. Cocoa. Peppermint cocoa, if his nose can be trusted. "They don't see snow all that often, I reckon... yet it always snows on Starlight. Why's that, you think?"

Sanson settles uninvited on the step beside him, leaning close for warmth. "I'd not thought to speculate on the nature of snow."

"No? If you ask me," Guydelot offers, grinning. "I'd wager the Elementals do it. Just this time of year. Just for the season."

"They wouldn't," Sanson says, though he sounds uncertain. "'Tis foolish..."

"Aye, but then, what we deem foolish might not be what they deem foolish, eh?" Guydelot sips his cocoa, amused, watching Sanson mull over the possibility. "Might be as we ought to ask a hearer about it-"

"Absolutely not. You will not interrupt a hearer's duty just to inquire-"

"It's important."

"It is not." Sanson's eyes glitter with amusement, as bright as the tinsel inside. "Leave it be."

"Where's your holiday spirit?" Guydelot laughs, setting his mug aside and tying the stray ribbon around his own neck. "See? Here's your present."

It makes Sanson laugh. "Regifting! You were already given to me once - by the Gods' Quiver, who didn't know what they were giving me."

"Now that ain't fair," Guydelot says, protesting. "I think it means a little more coming from me-"

"Aye, fair enough." Sanson tugs the ribbon gently, drawing him closer. "I'll accept my gift with grace, then."

"Might wanna wait a bit to unwrap it."

That earns him a swat - and more laughter, more lovely than any Starlight bell.

He could get used to this holiday, he thinks.

[wildbeautifuldamned]

https://www.1stdibs.com

[bluebellhairpin]

Masquerade

Bruce Wayne X Batmom!Reader

A/N: Goes along the same plane as my other Batmom fic. I think. It’s so short. - Nemo

Summary: You love costumes and getting dressed up. Gotham is known for it’s parties, and this time it’s a masquerade. Although, at a party where everyone wears a mask (in Gotham no less) it seems an invitation for trouble. 

Listening to: ‘Feeling Good’ by Michael Bublé (slowed) - ‘Butterflies all havin' fun, you know what I mean, sleep in peace when day is done, that's what I mean.’

Series Masterlist 

Masterlist  

You loved dressing up. Ever since you were a child, you'd get into your mother's old clothes and make-up, do yourself up to a child's standard of 'fancy', and parade around you home as if you were someone important. 

Now that you're older, that hasn't changed. You still love it, even if the clothes you wear are more expensive, and undoubtedly your own.

Gotham is notorious for three things; crime, rich people, and rich people galas. So well known are Gotham’s galas, and so numerous the rich people, that three weeks without some sort of spruced-up gathering was as unusual as Joker not harassing Batman and the city for more than a month. 

Your favorite of the gatherings, were the themed ones. You know, like having everyone dress in blue, or something linking to the ocean, or costumes and dresses designed to mimic a superheroes (You naturally went as you husbands alter-ego of Batman, while that afternoon you practically had to wrestle said husband into a Superman themed costume). 

Tonight was another themed gala, a masquerade, and you were over the moon with joy. In true masquerade fashion, you’d already heard of a number of people coming as their own versions of characters from Phantom of the Opera. Pulling a Phantom costume on Bruce - as nice as he’d look with it on - wasn’t unique enough this time. 

Your eldest son, Dick, was going a Raoul anyway. He's always been the dramatic one, and you could see the similarities between him and Raoul, so it fits. 

Jason had gathered together a costume, fit with a full-face skull mask, for the occasion. Technically he was still dead, so a masquerade was a good opportunity for him to join the family to the gala. 

Tim was difficult to pick for, but he eventually agreed to something simple, and Gothic. In tune with the true masquerade fashion. You thought he looked like a vampire.

For Damian, it was much harder. When it came to dressing up in more than a suit he was just like his father, but you managed to pull him around when you brought out a mask that came complete with buck horns. 

You and Bruce would be in costumes themed as Hades and Persephone. Yours was flowery and, as Bruce described it, heavenly. 

He was handsome as ever, and had vouched for a painted-on mask rather than a real one, so you went with that too. The area around both of your eyes were painted black or white, and splattered with shining gold leaf. 

The five of you - Jason (dubbed Jake for the night) arriving incognito - were a sight to behold. 

Cameras flashed, people yelled, and you all having been weathered to this situation walked through it without so much as flinching -stopping for mandatory photos and some questions along the way. 

Inside was as extravagant as ever. Two chandeliers hung from the ceiling, sending a warm glow and sparkles around the room. Candelabras were sitting wherever the chandeliers light couldn't reach, and sheer red fabric wrapped across the ceiling and down the walls. The people were dressed as fancy as the room was decorated. All colors made an appearance, and masks of all sorts made their debut. 

It was fantastic. You felt like you were practically glowing. 

A few hours later and the gala was in full swing. Some were already tipsy, and a number had already been shipped off home. Other had run off to more secluded areas of the host building  - not being able to wait until they themselves got home. Damian was glued to your side, watching you as you filtered your way from person to person, group to group, chatting to anyone and everyone - even though he knew you weren’t exactly the most social person ever. These parties made you a new person. 

Bruce was stuck between joining you at your unoccupied side, and making his own conversation with businessmen and women. He preferred one much more to the other. 

Dick was very happy to loiter around the bar, finding enough entertainment in the people and false comfort he could provide there.

Tim was very content watching whoever decided to dance - which on two occasions were you and Damian, then you and Bruce. 

Jason - Jake - was yet to take off his mask, and had gained a small hoard of people who were betting on what it would take to get him to take it off. 

All-in-all, everyone seemed to be having an OK time. Until smoke started billowing out of the vents near the floor. 

You thought it was amazing. Even though every one of your family members were in very different parts of the venue, they managed to share looks and all took off. You also managed to sulk away - only you remaining of the Wayne's would look suspicious. 

By the end of the night, the ruckus was dealt with, and everyone was sent home. You only really liked two things more than dressing-up; your family, and a good chase. Tonight had all three. And laying in your bed, husband by your side, and youngest son drifting in and out of sleep on your stomach, you couldn’t think of any night better than this one. 

The night of the masquerade.

[xinnamonbun]

I know that this is like a year old BUT I NEED TO TALK ABOUT SHIP KIDS

I could literally talk about this topic for HOURS so I'm going to try and squish this as much as I can (which is going to be hard)

Fantube:

Amount:

They already have two kids (Foster Egg and Bot) but I think they would have three more- (STAY WITH ME) 3D Glasses (referencing how fan likes media and test tubes beta design being goggles), Pamphlet (science pamphlet for testing and fan because paper), and Bookmark (books are seen as smart so Test Tube but also are a geeky thing so Fan and also made of paper again)

General Parenting:

They'd get better ever kid but I think the whole thing would be the lesson of "there is always more to learn with parenting"

Bonus?:

I think they'd be the first one to be grandparents

Payjay: (@pencilgutz /you know why I'm tagging you)

Amount:

I think they'd have 1 or 2. For the sake of talking we're going with 2. Paper Carton (drink container and paper) and Glass Pen (adopted but reasoning is OJ has glass and you write on paper with pen)

General Parenting:

They're honestly pretty good at it! But like any parents they mess up- what makes them good is that they usually fix those mistakes

Bonus:

I feel like most people go to them or fantube for babysitting, it definitely helps that half of them still live in hotel oj

Silvercandle:

Amount:

I think they'd have one. I don't want to say candelabra BUT ITS LITERALLY CANNON (dee voice of candle was asked "what's their ship child" and they said Candelabra) but we're trying to make something different so let's say...Lighter (metal silver and fire)

General Parenting:

They'd obviously love them but I think they would unintentionally be bad parents in different ways (silvercandle shippers don't come after me; jk I'd love to hear you fight me on this) silver would be very overbearing and way too protective and basically not let them do anything. Candle would help them calm down however down the line this would (unintentionally) cause them to not talk to her about things because from their perspective candle would just "shut them up"

Bonus:

I think because of the previously stayed in parenting issues they would end up basically having two sides of themselves; "perfectly elegant object" and "rebel" when they're with their friends. Which probably causes problems down the line...

Lightbrush:

Amount:

I think 2. Glow in the Dark Paint (Glow like lightbulb and paint with paintbrush) and Digital Pen (electric like lightbulb and art utensils)

General Parenting:

I don't think I even really need to say this but Lightbulb WOULD be the fun parent doing fun things like arts and crafts, fishing, starting car games like I spy on road trips, ect. Paintbrush would be the more grounded parent that is trying to make functional adults. I feel like Lightbulb as the fun parent makes paintbrush want to and fail to get closer with the kids because they are only seen as "the one who gives the lectures" or "the chore giver" vs Lightbulb who's the "fun one" the "cool one"

Bonus:

Light bulb is not only the fun mom, she is also the fun aunt. If she's babysitting the kids get excited.

Knifkle: (is that how you spell it?)

Amount:

One. Potato Peeler (kitchen utensils that is sharp like knife used on vegetables like pickle... Since that second part is a bit of a stretch why don't we make them green too)

General Parenting:

Knife is actually really good at being a cool enough parent that their kid WANTS to talk to them about their problems and pickle is basically their first bestie very loving when their kid asks "how do planes fly?" They find out together

Bonus:

Because of knife and pickles good parenting, I think they end up being very good at reading other object's emotions and are just really good at getting objects to open up

Microsoap:

Amount:

One. Hairbrush (adopted, don't tell me you've never sung in the shower with a hairbrush instead of a microphone, showers have soap, and hair brushes are kind of a part of hygiene)

General Parenting:

I think they'd be pretty average when it comes to how good at it they are. Soap would be an expert in diagnosing their own child tho. Mic would also be very against secrets which worked out well at first but of course every child's ganna have some secrets

Bonus:

Because my whole justification for this object was basically shower, they really likes swimming

Suitloon:

Amount:

One. Hot Air Balloon (is used to carry things like a suitcase and also has straps to connect to the balloon, I don't need to explain balloon)

General Parenting:

Oh they baby this child. Which is obviously what you're supposed to do when they are a baby but when 14+...not so much. Their main priorities are making sure that they're kind (Fair) and being protective not OVERPROTECTIVE just protective... Maybe just a little over.

Bonus:

it took a really long time for them to have the child because of the... Process. (Idk with the object "process" is but whatever it is I imagine they have a distaste for it since I head Canon both of them to be on the asexual spectrum) however they ended up agreeing that they did want a family. And they are very satisfied with the one that they have.

Remember when I said I could talk about this for hours? Turns out I was talking about it for hours anyways! A lot of stuff that I wanted to add ended up getting hydraulic pressed so I've been typing and saving this as a draft for a while.

...

DAMN IT NOW IVE GOTTEN ATTACHED TO SHIP CHILDREN AGAIN-

I'm bored.

Y'all give me your interpretations of inanimate insanity shipchildren.

[dwellordream]

You don your Victorian nightgown, let down your hair, and grab your candelabra because now it's time to follow around Rhaenyra! How are you advising her? You can be her ghost friend from childhood if that would eeasier. You an not beat Daemon to death with your candelabra but you may keep him up nights with ghostly whispering and moaning and rattling of chains.

If I can’t hit Daemon with my candelabra can I at least get the ghost of Rhea Royce in here to tag-team haunt him with me? If I am Rhaenyra’s ghost friend from childhood than I guess my main goal is to improve her PR, because... it needs a lot of work. Rightful claims or not aside, none of that means jack shit if she keeps giving the Hightowers ammunition to slander her with.  Since I can only appear to Rhaenyra, there’s not much I can do to prevent Viserys from remarrying, and as soon as he remarries and has children with Alicent, the Dance is going to inevitably happen. Luckily, there’s still a lot of time before he actually dies. My immediate plan is to encourage Rhaenyra to play up her role as Viserys’ dutiful and beloved firstborn child as much as possible, while trying to minimize her relationship with Daemon as much as possible. His very presence around her is contributing to rumor after rumor after rumor all spurred on by the Hightowers, who will use his controversial rep whenever possible to slander Rhaenyra.  Basically I want to be like ‘listen, Rhaenyra, I get that Uncle Daemon is fun and exciting, but if you want to be queen someday you cannot just surround yourself with fun and exciting people at the expense of your reputation. It sucks but that’s the cards you’ve been dealt. You can be perfectly pleasant to Uncle Daemon, you can spend time with Uncle Daemon, but you cannot be seen trotting around after Daemon or spending all this time in private behind closed doors with Daemon.’  Now Rhaenyra might be like ‘screw you ghost friend, Uncle Daemon’s so cool and handsome!’ and there’s not much I can do if she elects to ignore my advice, but I also need to keep an eye on the Criston Cole situation, and drill it into her head that ‘I get that he’s one of the hottest most chivalrous men you have ever seen, but he is a no-go zone. Tone down the flirting, don’t say suggestive shit about him to your friends, who will absolutely circulate rumors that you are trying to seduce him, and oh, yeah, DON’T TRY TO SEDUCE HIM. It won’t work and you’ll just feel like a dumb teenager anyways.’ As far as her relationship with Alicent, I have to be like ‘look. I get she kind of sucks. Okay I get she really kind of sucks. But you need to take a deep breath and put on a smiling face around her in public as much as possible, not badmouth her behind her back because it will become court fodder, and more or less act totally unruffled whenever she starts on about her son being King. ignore her as much as you can. do not rise to the bait.’ Once Rhaenyra is of age and takes over Dragonstone, I need to remind her that she must still make frequent trips back to court to play the dutiful daughter, because she does not want to be seen as isolating herself on Dragonstone and not giving a shit about the realm or what happens there. Plus, if she’s gone too much the Greens will work as hard as they can to turn public opinion against her. When it comes to the marriage to Laenor, there’s not much I or Rhaenyra can do to stop that. I basically need to have a frank chat with her and be like ‘listen. I get that you two are not compatible in the least. but if you are going to have an extramarital affair and let children result it, it would really help if those kids did not come out brunette. could you not find a blonde on this island (NOT DAEMON, RHAENYRA) to conduct this affair with instead? or, better yet... not have any kids with men outside of the marriage at all? I know it’s terrible and the situation sucks but even one kid of yours and Laenor’s could go a long way. if not... just don’t get pregnant by anyone.’ I would like to try to prevent Laenor’s murder as a ghost but I don’t think there’s much I can do to stop that, whether it was arranged by the Hightowers or by Daemon himself. In that case, after the fact I need to impress on Rhaenyra that marrying Daemon is not a good idea. It’s not gaining her any wider support, she needs to start looking at other powerful houses, all of whom will be vying for her hand whether she has kids by Harwin or Laenor or not. Plus, especially marrying Daemon so soon after Laenor and Laena’s death is going to look terrible and piss off the Velaryons, some of your closest allies.’  Since I know when Viserys bites the dust, I need Rhaenyra and her strongest supporters at court then. There will probably be bloodshed in the immediate aftermath of his death as the Blacks and Greens clash, but I need Rhaenyra to call for a Great Council immediately. Hopefully Criston Cole has remained loyal to Rhaenyra and so we just have Otto crowning Aegon II, which looks pretty sketchy, and now at this Great Council Rhaenyra really needs to trot out those diplomatic skills (having a husband who was not Daemon would help) and make her case for why she should be queen. If she can get most of the great houses on her side, it’s done. If the Council collapses and there is still a civil war, I need to encourage her to offer some very generous terms of surrender for most of the Greens’ supporters, and to consistently offer those terms throughout the war. Basically, she needs to lay off the knight inquisitors and the random executions and the declaring people who piss her off traitors as much as possible, because as soon as people start to view her as a tyrant who won’t listen to reason, they will jump ship to the Greens, which we do not want.  Anyways I don’t know how much Rhaenyra would listen to ghostly me, but at least if she tones it down a bit and has some better PR she might be the much more popular claimant as opposed to known asshole Aegon II.

[castielscarma]

Kidnapped

(The last part in the #SpnStayAtHome challenge. A huge thank you to @helianthus21 @pray4jensen @bend-me-shape-me for putting together this challenge. It’s been such fun! I chose to write based on a prompt I saw in a Facebook group. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The day was slowly turning into night but it was not yet pitch black, more of a deep dark gray. It suited Dean Winchester just fine. The day had been hot and he welcomed the chill air that caressed his cheek.

He could see the lanterns being lit, vibrant bright beacons that surrounded the castle of OakSpear. He always thought it was a stupid name. The last oak had been cut down centuries ago when the kingdom needed them to build ships to fight a neighboring kingdom and the now ruling family had renamed the castle Oakspear in remembrance.

Oakspear. He'd like to see someone come at him with a damn oak spear. He'd use his blade and cut the spear into toothpicks. Dean turned serious. This was just a quick in and out – an unbidden smile came to him then – and no one was supposed to get hurt. Not a lot at least. If he saw Crowley, Master of the Royal King's Guard though, he'd happily make an exception.  

Dean was up to the castle wall. Stones that were huge and smooth to the touch, seemingly impenetrable greeted him. They were silent and guarded their secrets. Luckily for Dean, he knew of living creatures, with soft flesh and hot blood who didn't keep their knowledge hidden.

Being the most revered or feared person (depending on who you asked) in the kingdom, came with certain responsibilities and Dean “The Michael Sword” Winchester was not one to disappoint.

When he came to the Oakfork –  a small mound of rocks among some bushes – he turned right and counted twenty steps, carefully. Each step was heel against toe until he stopped, facing the castle walls again. To the untrained eye, this expanse of smooth stone looked the same as any other but Dean knew that looks could be deceiving. Standing on his toes, he pressed on a point and a section of the stone wall slowly opened up.

Again he smiled to himself, memories stirring his blood to life. He needed to stop and focus on the task at hand.

Kings and their fear of being kidnapped or attacked. Stupid. Dean walked inside and pressed a point on more coarse rock. The hidden door closed.

Dean knew the way and how the underground tunnel twisted and turned by heart. His night vision was still preserved so he ran. Soon, he came to the exit.

It was nighttime and the chamber pots weren't really needed to the same extent, but Dean nonetheless pressed his ear to the door. To be careful was a wise choice. Castles never slept. He shut down the voice that insisted that what he was about to do wasn't wise.

He couldn't hear anything.

Slowly, he pushed the door open – this one so small that he had to bend himself in half –  and stepped outside.

Ahh, the castle of Oakspear. Even the chamber pots were pristine.

Dean carefully took a step over some pots laying in a stacked pile on the floor and opened that door too. The storage for the chamber pots was at the far end from where the royal rooms where.

Dean sneaked out on soft leather boots and entered a hallway. Here and there lanterns glowed, the light shining on the stone walls but no guards were there. Not that Dean had expected any. Chamber pots were not treasured by the king.

As he walked further into the heart of the castle, it slowly came to life. He could hear the soft murmurs of servants going about their business even at these hours. He clutched his side, where his knife was hidden. The Michael Sword he'd decided to leave behind, but if anyone thought that he'd be less dangerous with a knife, they were fools.

Enough with the tiptoeing. Time to spring the plan into action. Not that Dean really had a plan. He had a semblance of things he knew about Oakspear, guard routines, where most of the exits were. Where the royal jewelry was stashed. He banished all the images that suddenly flooded his mind.

Maybe he should have stopped at the second ale, but the third was blessed the saying went.

Boots on stone alerted him to a group of guards close by, and by the sound of it they were coming his way. Dean's heart sped up. It wasn't fear, just exhilaration that called his body into action. There was a door further ahead, but he wasn't sure where it would lead. If someone was behind it, they were most likely sleeping but if not, their screams would alert the guards.

Dean looked up and saw a wooden support beam. He squinted. It was possible. Sure, he had some alcohol in his blood but his reflexes were legendary. Villagers still talked about him and that cock. The bird kind.

Taking a step back, Dean ran as fast as he could and took a leg to the wall, pressing himself upwards. Be a cock. Fly! He remembered that cocks didn't really fly but his fingers gripped tightly around wood anyway. He hoisted himself up and perched from his position, looking at the guards that walked right beneath him.

The lanterns chased some of the darkness away but not often did people think to look up. Dean pressed himself to the roof and watched as the guards walked past him none the wiser. He counted to five and jumped down again.

Two turns later and barely avoiding a stray guard running – probably to take a piss – Dean was almost to the royal sleeping quarters. He turned a corner and ran straight into Crowley.

Crowley's eyes widened briefly but Dean was faster. He tightened his fist and planted it squarely on that pompous face of Crowley.  

Crowley covered his face for a split second, before looking at Dean with hatred in his eyes. “I know you! You won't escape, Dean Winchester!” Crowley swung at him.

Dean ducked with ease. “I'm surprised you do. The picture on the wanted posters doesn't look anything like me. But nothing could do this pretty face justice. But no need for the 'Winchester', I thought you and me were closer than that. Remember that night in Edmond – “

Crowley screamed and lunged at him.

Apparently Crowley didn't want to remember.

Dean grimaced as his head hit the ground, the thud reverberating through his teeth but was soon accompanied by a sickening crack.

“You'll rot in a dungeon.” Crowley throw away the candelabra and grabbed Dean by his tunic.

Blood ran down into Dean's left eye, obscuring his vision. He could feel the pointy end of a blade pressing into his back.

“If you just let me grab my sword again, we can cross them.”

“I swear by all that's holy, if you don't shut your mouth right now, I'll gut you.”

That was the thing with Kingsguards. They got fat and complacent. Much like the house cats who were content to drink milk and take whatever scraps their masters gave them, ultimately forgetting that they had claws.

Crowley pushed Dean forward, his sword at the ready.

Dean grunted, but didn't turn around to punch him as he wanted to. Instead, he walked slowly, hunched. The model prisoner. When he saw that Crowley was ushering him along to that room, he bent his head down, a smile on his lips.

Crowley knocked once, and pushed Dean inside the dark wooden doors, inlaid with marble and gems. Dean contemplated stealing the door, or at least the handle which was solid gold just to piss off the king but decided against it.

The king was sleeping but stirred in his bed. So did one of his loyal soldiers who was leaning against the wall, one that Dean knew the face of very well. Hannah.

Great.

Hannah's eyes widened momentarily before he pulled his sword and the king followed suit.

“This piece of vermin was skulking around in the castle, your Highness. Permission to take his life right now?” Crowley pushed Dean against a wall. “Where's your Michael Sword now, you scoundrel?”

Dean barely focused on Crowley; his eyes were on the Royal Highness, Castiel Angelus,  Oakspear's pride and joy, the most exalted One. He probably had more names that were too ridiculous to remember. Dean would have to ask him.

The king of course drew his sword.

Hannah looked at the king and followed suit, standing next to him.

Castiel's eyes were narrowed, shining brightly with anger. He pointed the sword under Dean's chin, forcing his eyes up.

Dean couldn't help it, he licked his lips and smiled lasciviously. “A game is it?” He winked once and saw Hannah blink in confusion.

Slowly, Dean kneeled in front of Castiel, lowering his hands to his sides. He wanted to bend his neck too, but sadly the sharp tip on his throat – that had followed him down as his knees sank to the floor – prevented such wishes. He could still blink with his left eye but the blood caused it to burn. It was just a mild discomfort though. A zit on his ass was worse.

Crowley's raspy voice was laced with confusion. “Your Highness?”

Castiel shook his head. “Stand down, Crowley. We need to gather information. If this is indeed Dean Winchester – “

“I told you that picture of me sucked, Crowle – “

Crowley kicked him in the stomach with a heavy foot.

Dean bent down slightly, air leaving his lungs. The sword grazed his throat but it was just a caress, a pleasurable, painful zing.

“Crowley, I told you to stand down!”

Coughing, Dean gazed up to look at Castiel. Wasn't this a sight? His blood stirred again but Dean fixed his gaze on those eyes. A witch must have truly cursed Castiel as a child. There was no other way for any human to gain that color.

Dean ignored the hideous nightgown Castiel was wearing. It was a silky affair with golden wings embroidered all over. Why would one want to cover one's body with that monstrosity when you could sleep in the nude? He shook his head in dismay.

“What are you doing here...thief!”

Dean licked his lips. “Love when you talk dirty to me... your Highness.” He glanced over at Crowley who was fuming; his hand still gripped the hilt tightly. “Just taking a stroll. Do you mind?” He raised his hand and touched the blade, arching a brow.

Slowly Castiel lowered his sword.

“Your Highness, I wouldn't do that if I were you. He's the kingdom's most wanted – “

Dean ducked down and rolled away from the sword. He threw himself at Crowley's feet and pulled them toward himself, and as Crowley fell, he planted a fist straight in his smug face. “This is a different kiss than you'd like from me but I'm sure you won't mind.” The crunch as Crowley's nose broke and blood squirted was very satisfying. He rapidly punched him three more times, using all his force.

Blood splattered on his face, but Dean had already been bloodied. Some more didn't really make much more difference.

Crowley raised his head feebly before dropping it to the floor, passing out.

Dean cracked his knuckles. “That was for the fucking awful drawings of me.” He looked at Castiel, as he wiped the blood away from his face. “No wonder your soldiers never catch me.”

“Dean, have you lost your cursed mind? How am I going to explain this to Crowley when he wakes up?” Castiel glanced at his Master Kingsguard. “If he wakes up.”

“He'll wake.” Dean shook his head. “You need to train your guards better, Cas. What if some crazed killer is out to catch you?” He almost spat in disgust. “It'll be child's play.”

“It's Castiel.”

Dean nodded, a smile on his face. “Of course.” He put a fist to his chest and bowed. “Your Big Headedness. I know this isn't your favored version of crossing swords. I apologize.”

Hannah's eyes bulged at the insult and he took a step forward but Castiel waved at him to stop.

Anger made Castiel's eyes glow. He grabbed Dean and hauled him up. “If they catch you, they'll kill you!”

Dean licked some of the blood from his fingers. “Are you gonna turn me in?” The ensuing fight had upset his stomach, and Dean let out a burp.

“Are you intoxicated?!”

Dean scoffed. “I've had three or so ale. Hardly intoxicated, Cas. But I'm here on a mission.” He glanced over at Hannah, who was still aiming his sword at Dean, although he looked like he was thinking of dropping it.

“What kind of mission could you be on?” Castiel wondered out loud.

“The mission to preserve my reputation.” He kept silent about the second part of his mission.

Castiel stepped away from Crowley and put away his sword before he went over to a dresser. “I think that's a lost cause, you preserving your reputation.” He draped a blue silk robe, embroidered with fish of all things over his nightgown, and tied it off with a sash.

Dean got up on two feet and walked up to Castiel. He noted that Hannah followed his every move. “Relax, Hannah.”

“Your Highness... should I alert someone?”

Castiel shook his head. “It's fine. Just proceed with protocol as usual, Hannah.”

Dean smirked. “You heard him, handsome. Proceed as usual.”

Hannah frowned but dropped his sword and finally sheathed it. He relaxed his posture but Dean could still feel his eyes on him.

He turned and walked over to Hannah. “You've done good, kid.” He patted Hannah on the back.

“I'm hardly a kid – “

“Enough!” Castiel's voice cut through the air. “It's not even – Dean. Why are you here, in the middle of the night – ?”

Dean lowered his voice. “Is that any more different than the other times I've been here? You never complained then. On the contrary, you wanted more and more and – “

Hannah cleared his throat.

Dean rolled his eyes. “For being the lookout, you don't get to play a prude now, Hannah.”

“Dean.”

Dean could hear Castiel's patience was wearing thin. He was always so... demanding. Dean liked it. “You always wanted adventure right? Bored of court politics? A way to escape from Crowley and Naomi? Well, I'm giving it to you.”

“What are you talking about?”

Hannah looked as puzzled.

Dean admired loyalty to a point. Hannah was loyal, clever, and sure, he followed orders but he had been known to question some of Cas' decisions now and then. The confidence to defy the king came not from pride or avarice but from years of friendship and camaraderie, love even. And Hannah's face was not ugly, so that was another reason for admiration.  

“Cas, Hannah is pretty, I'll give you that. But wouldn't you say a scar... would make his already pretty face more appealing?” The corners of his mouth turned into a smirk.

Dean jumped on Hannah, and hit him square in the face. Hannah hit the floor like a drunkard on midsummer's Eve.

Castiel whirled around, his robe fanning out behind him dramatically.

“Dean, what are you doing?”

Dean pulled his knife and yanked Castiel close to him, the sharp edge of the knife pointing at that vital blood vessel near the throat. “We need to take a stroll, you and me, Cas.”

Betrayal flashed over Castiel's face and he set his mouth into a grim line. “I thought we had something. That we were something.”

An ache bloomed in Dean's chest but he shoved it down. “We do, Cas, we do. All those things I said to you... they're still true. I'm just borrowing you for a while.”

“Against my will!” Castiel hissed. “That's not borrowing. That's kidnapping!”

Dean pulled Castiel's body to his and if circumstances were different it could have been exciting. “I'll give you back. We'll come back.” He waited until the guards had made their next round passing the royal chambers before urging Castiel along. “Let's go.”

The corridor was now empty and Dean pushed at Castiel, urging him to hurry. “I don't know what's with the face and narrowed eyes.  I thought you hated the pompous royal court and all the trivial matters you have to attend. Didn't you talk about adventures and going out to see the world?”

“Dean, if any of my guards find you, you'll be executed on the spot. I'd be powerless to stop you.”

“Cas, it's almost like we're more than lovers. I'm flattered.”

“Drop the charade, Dean. I've known you for a long time. I care about you. Gods, I love you. I know you haven't told me you love me back but all those evenings and nights we've spent together... I know they must have meant something to you.  Don't lie to me. Not more than you have tonight.”

Dean swallowed. Damn, Cas and his honeyed tongue. He almost relented when he remembered the very reason he was doing this. He hardened his voice. “You're a good lay. That is all.”

Castiel's face turned blank and he didn't say anything else.

The rest of the walk to the storage with the chamber pots was uneventful. Dean felt the heavy silence build with each step until it was crushing him. “Bend down so you don't hit your head, Cas.”

“We wouldn't want that now, would we? What would you do if I fought you?”

Dean sighed. “You are royalty, and while I don't doubt your strength, Cas, the Michael Sword has no reason to hold back if you start trouble. The rumors about me are all true.” He shrugged. “Well, most of them anyway, some are pure fabrication, but do you really wanna take that chance?”

“If you have troubles with a gang of thugs or ruffians, I can help. My coffins are endless.”

Dean smiled in the darkness as they walked to the edge of the castle walls. Just a few more steps and then freedom awaited. For one of them. “It's not about gold, Cas.”

“You almost sound offended.”

“I don't fuck you for money, Cas.”

Castiel scoffed. “I didn't suggest that either. But if you – if there's some debt to be paid, I could do that. I could help you.”

“We are just going to be gone a while and then I'll bring you back. I don't need your help.”

The darkness finally covered the landscape and while it would be to their advantage, Crowley and Hannah could wake at any moment. Dean pulled out his sword and hid the knife away.

Castiel sighed but didn't say anything; he just followed along as Dean guided him with a hand on his shoulder. They would soon come to a small clearing where he hid two horses and then they'd leave Oakspear.

After a few minutes of walking, Dean pulled Castiel to a stop. “Do you have to step on every fucking branch and twig from here to Lawreen?”

“I've been kidnapped. It's in my interest to be found and leave traces behind me.”

Dean smiled in the darkness. “You give Crowley and his gang of cretins too much credit. But good thinking.”

“But you'll still knock me out if I try to run.”

“Don't run, Cas. I swear, I will not hurt you and I will return you when we're done.”

Castiel was silent for a while, walking where Dean's sword led them. The silence lay heavy over them and Dean should've been grateful. He was borrowing the king of Oakspear after all and he wanted as little disturbance as possible. But the other silence was oppressive, the one that spoke of betrayal and hurt and it pressed heavily on him.

Usually, Dean wouldn't be bothered, but this was Cas.

He could see the shadowy outline of the horses. He'd tied them around a cluster of birch trees. The trees dotted the area, providing some shade on hot summer days, but they were no oaks.

The horses – one black, the other one a soft beige – whinnied when Dean approached them.

He stroked the black horse gently, reassuring her. “We'll be on our way soon, Tantrum. Venison will rest.”

Castiel finally spoke up, disbelief in his voice.“You named your horses Tantrum and Venison?”

Dean shrugged. “Tantrum was feisty when I got her and Venison... A poacher stole my venison so I stole his horse.”

Cas huffed in disbelief. “You don't have venison, because you don't own any forests, Dean.”

“I was in a forest. And might be that I was hunting for venison when this man came and claimed what was mine. Get up. And no sudden movements, she'll bite you.”

“So you were poaching yourself and got mad that another poacher stole “your venison”.

Dean pushed at Castiel's ass, urging him forward. His other hand gripped Tantrum's reins tightly. “Come on, stop with this molasses-slow pace. Crowley will be able to catch up.”

“I have no desire to break my neck, Dean.”

“Yeah, I have no desire for some damned butcher to hang me by the neck. See, our interests align.” Dean jumped up behind Castiel and grabbed Venison's reins. He'd tied Venison to Thunder and they were on their way.

The horses trotted along with a steady but brisk pace. Dean led them away from the main roads and into the leafy forests that grew some distance away from the castle.

He noticed that Castiel was shivering. He tried to hide it but Dean could feel the small trembles against his stomach and his arms as his body enveloped Castiel's. He realized that Castiel was still in his silk nightgown and robe. He reached back and unrolled a woolen cloak while guiding Tantrum with his knees.

Casually, he put the cloak around Castiel's shivering form.

“Thank you.”

“No bother. I was the one that dragged you out of bed. It's the least I can do.” Dean sighed quietly for himself. “Look, Cas. I'm... I'm sorry.”

“For borrowing me? Well, me too, Dean.”

Dean chuckled slightly. “Not that part.” He was sorry for other things and his mind turned to matters that were yet to come. He chastised himself. No use in thinking about tomorrow's sorrows when today was  bleak enough. “I didn't mean it, alright. You're not just a lay to me, Cas. You know that.”

“I thought I did. Does this mean that you'll explain what you're doing, Dean? You have promised my safe return, so I assume you're not out to kill me?”

Anger flashed through Dean for a brief second but then he remembered that Castiel had every right to be mad or think that his life was in danger. “I'm not going to kill you.”

Castiel seemed satisfied by that.

Dean guided the horses through the thick foliage and turned south. They were once again on a path, albeit a less traveled one.

“You're going by the roads again?”

It was a small comfort that Castiel seemed so calm, that his voice still held kindness. It made it easier for Dean to pretend he hadn't kidnapped him. “Not the main one, no. This one will lead to a farm village down south and then we're going to cross into Juna.”

“Juna? That's your plan? You're going to hide the king of Oakspear in the actual realm? Not cross the border but plant us straight into a large city? You do realize that Juna is the largest city in the kingdom, that their soldiers – “

“ – are the finest ever, their armor shines in the sun, and they shit gold. Yeah, I know. I also know that Juna provides a huge bulk of the grain supply to Oakspear, that the royal palace once stood there and that supposedly magic is in the soil there. That's what the War of Nothingness was about, whether magic was real or not.”

“You did listen.”

Dean scoffed. “Not my fault that your post-fucking talk was all history, economics, and things I'm sure even Osric would be impressed you have knowledge about. And Juna may be the largest city in the kingdom, but that's where we're going anyway.”

Tantrum whinnied and Dean patted her reassuringly. “It's gonna be a long night. I won't bore you with talk any longer. You'll be fine, Cas.”

Castiel fidgeted against Dean, so Dean wrapped his arm around Castiel's waist, keeping him still. Tantrum was well-trained and could be directed just by a slight press of the knees anyway.

“Don't you think me showing up in my very regal robe will mark me as, I don't know, royalty maybe?”

Dean nodded, despite Castiel not being able to see him. “I do. But we'll take care of that before we reach Juna. Relax, Cas.”

“Relax you say. You still haven't told me why you're doing this, Dean.”

Gritting his teeth, Dean sighed. “I know you're stubborn Cas, and you'll try, that's what honor compels you to do. But I won't talk. You know what you need to know.”

“I know nothing!”

“Exactly. Now keep your damn voice down.”

To his credit, Castiel did listen. Soon the only sounds to be heard were the night birds, evening frogs, and crickets puncturing the otherwise still night with their song. Tantrum and Venison trotted along on silent hooves and even Castiel stopped talking.

A heavy weight settled against Dean's chest and he realized that Castiel had fallen asleep. He adjusted him slightly, pulled the robe around him tighter, and continued riding.

Dean Winchester – notorious thief and Castiel Angelus – king of Oakspear rode on as the darkness kept them safe.

If you wanna leave comments or just say hi the story is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24593170

[askthe-iii-shipchildren]

Is mephone like. the grandpa in this au? He's the traumatized gramps that fought in the Vietnam War

[xinnamonbun]

I NEED TO TALK ABOUT SHIP KIDS!

I could literally talk about this topic for HOURS so I'm going to try and squish this as much as I can (which is going to be hard)

Fantube:

Amount:

They already have two kids (Foster Egg and Bot) but I think they would have three more- (STAY WITH ME) 3D Glasses (referencing how fan likes media and test tubes beta design being goggles), Pamphlet (science pamphlet for testing and fan because paper), and Bookmark (books are seen as smart so Test Tube but also are a geeky thing so Fan and also made of paper again)

General Parenting:

They'd get better ever kid but I think the whole thing would be the lesson of "there is always more to learn with parenting"

Bonus:I think they'd be the first one to be grandparents

Payjay: (@pencilgutz /you know why I'm tagging you)

Amount:

I think they'd have 1 or 2. For the sake of talking we're going with 2. Paper Carton (drink container and paper) and Glass Pen (adopted but reasoning is OJ has glass and you write on paper with pen)

General Parenting:

They're honestly pretty good at it! But like any parents they mess up- what makes them good is that they usually fix those mistakes

Bonus:

I feel like most people go to them or fantube for babysitting, it definitely helps that half of them still live in hotel oj

Silvercandle:

Amount:

I think they'd have one. I don't want to say candelabra BUT ITS LITERALLY CANNON (dee voice of candle was asked "what's their ship child" and they said Candelabra) but we're trying to make something different so let's say...Lighter (metal silver and fire)

General Parenting:

They'd obviously love them but I think they would unintentionally be bad parents in different ways (silvercandle shippers don't come after me; jk I'd love to hear you fight me on this) silver would be very overbearing and way too protective and basically not let them do anything. Candle would help them calm down however down the line this would (unintentionally) cause them to not talk to her about things because from their perspective candle would just "shut them up"

Bonus:

I think because of the previously stayed in parenting issues they would end up basically having two sides of themselves; "perfectly elegant object" and "rebel" when they're with their friends. Which probably causes problems down the line...

Lightbrush:

Amount:I think 2. Glow in the Dark Paint (Glow like lightbulb and paint with paintbrush) and Digital Pen (electric like lightbulb and art utensils)

General Parenting:

I don't think I even really need to say this but Lightbulb WOULD be the fun parent doing fun things like arts and crafts, fishing, starting car games like I spy on road trips, ect. Paintbrush would be the more grounded parent that is trying to make functional adults. I feel like Lightbulb as the fun parent makes paintbrush want to and fail to get closer with the kids because they are only seen as "the one who gives the lectures" or "the chore giver" vs Lightbulb who's the "fun one" the "cool one"

Bonus:

Light bulb is not only the fun mom, she is also the fun aunt. If she's babysitting the kids get excited.

Knifkle: (is that how you spell it?)

Amount:

One. Potato Peeler (kitchen utensils that is sharp like knife used on vegetables like pickle... Since that second part is a bit of a stretch why don't we make them green too)

General Parenting:

Knife is actually really good at being a cool enough parent that their kid WANTS to talk to them about their problems and pickle is basically their first bestie very loving when their kid asks "how do planes fly?" They find out together

Bonus:

Because of knife and pickles good parenting, I think they end up being very good at reading other object's emotions and are just really good at getting objects to open up

Microsoap:

Amount:

One. Hairbrush (adopted, don't tell me you've never sung in the shower with a hairbrush instead of a microphone, showers have soap, and hair brushes are kind of a part of hygiene)

General Parenting:

I think they'd be pretty average when it comes to how good at it they are. Soap would be an expert in diagnosing their own child tho. Mic would also be very against secrets which worked out well at first but of course every child's ganna have some secrets

Bonus:

Because my whole justification for this object was basically shower, they really likes swimming

Suitloon:

Amount:

One. Hot Air Balloon (is used to carry things like a suitcase and also has straps to connect to the balloon, I don't need to explain balloon)

General Parenting:

Oh they baby this child. Which is obviously what you're supposed to do when they are a baby but when 14+...not so much. Their main priorities are making sure that they're kind (Fair) and being protective not OVERPROTECTIVE just protective... Maybe just a little over.

Bonus:

it took a really long time for them to have the child because of the... Process. (Idk with the object "process" is but whatever it is I imagine they have a distaste for it since I head Canon both of them to be on the asexual spectrum) however they ended up agreeing that they did want a family. And they are very satisfied with the one that they have.

Remember when I said I could talk about this for hours? Turns out I was talking about it for hours anyways! A lot of stuff that I wanted to add ended up getting hydraulic pressed so I've been typing and saving this as a draft for a while....

DAMN IT NOW IVE GOTTEN ATTACHED TO SHIP CHILDREN AGAIN-

[infinite-ticking-clock37]

Baby Candelabra

Ik she looks wonky but it's ok babies are always wonky

[madsmikkelsenschesthair]

Blood of the Dragon ch.6

A/N: woo sorry I’ve been gone for so long

Warnings: angst

Saying goodbye to the family who raised you, women turned into mothers, men turned into fathers and their sons being raised alongside you turned to best friends or in one case, a brother was as painful as it was. Freyja held back her tears as she bid farewell to her family, Athelstan anointed her forehead with a waxy smelling oil, praying “The Lord’s Prayer” and made the sign of his God’s cross on her chest. Then he kissed her cheek. The women were the hardest of all to say goodbye to; Kraka did all the crying for her hugging her and smothering her with kisses, Siggy and Helga didn’t want to let her go. Lagertha didn’t cry but it was clear she was hurting very much. The boys were very difficult to stop hugging and promising to write to one another.

Her new family looked on with sympathetic gazes. While Freyja said goodbye to Ivar, Lagertha locked eyes with Cersei’s cold ones, she could feel tensions rise between the two and Lagertha couldn’t comprehend why. All she knew was that she wasn’t so sure about putting Freyja’s life in this woman’s hands. To annoy Lagertha even more, Cersei wrapped her arms around Freyja’s shoulders pulling her away from Ivar’s embrace. Lagertha pushed past Aslaug and clamped her hand on top of Cersei’s shoulder turning her around. Knights pulled out their swords but Lagertha showed no fear only anger.

“If any harm comes to this child,” she said in a low voice for only Cersei to hear, “you will answer to me”.

The shock wore off Cersei’s face, a sly smile slowly creeping across her pretty face and her eyes went cold again, “Earl Lagertha there’s nothing to fear. I will love this child as if she were my own”.

Cersei turned around and walked with Freyja to where Rhaegar stood, his warm arm embraced her leading her to the boat where Uncle Jaime and her stepbrother were waiting for her. Uncle Jaime helped her and her pup on to the boat and scooted over so Freyja could sit.

“Don’t worry little dove,” Uncle Jaime said with a sad smile, “you’ll love Kingslanding, You’ll see”

A painful lump formed in her throat and only gave him a tiny smile. ‘Easy for you to say.’ she thought bitterly, ‘you’re not leaving your entire family behind’.

Freyja squinted up at the sky. It was perfectly clear and a seagull squawked somewhere. The weather did not reflect how she was feeling on the inside. Freyja had no other choice than to leave, what else could she do? There was no point in arguing especially when her King Father was the most powerful person in the world. Or so they said. To Freyja, he was a stranger who sat on an Iron throne with a notorious family name. 

Her father sat next to her and draped his cape over her shoulders, his warmth surprisingly comfortable yet so strange. Fenrir jumped on to her lap and she began to stroke his fur. At least she would bring something from her old home into her new one. They rowed away from the docks the shadows of the big ships looming over them like a predatory bird. A few men lowered the ladder, unfamiliar faces appeared studying Freyja. Stepmother climbed first, then Rhaegar held out his hand for her to take. “Come little one,” he said “you mustn't be afraid” Freyja gulped and with one hand on the ladder and the other holding on to her pup, she climbed praying to the gods she wouldn’t fall. 

The ship was very different than the ones she was accustomed to. It didn’t have any seats where one could sit but it was huge! The sails were bigger than a house flapping in the wind, a red creature with three heads was sewn on to the black flag. She put her wolf down and walked to the deck watching her old home with pain in her heart. From where she stood, Freyja could see Ivar and Sigurd bickering over something. She giggled. The little spark of happiness suddenly went away when she realized this would be the last time she would see this view.

No.

“I will return” Freyja whispered, “I will come back and I won’t leave without my family”. Then with a splinter sticking up from one of the boards, Freyja pricked her finger and let a few drops fall into the open water. 

The room they gave her was as beautiful as the ship and as big as the Great Hall with a four-poster bed made of strong dark wood. Instead of furs, they had the same sheets the English used and the duvet was made of soft cotton with black thread and golden dragons sewed to it. The pillows fluffed and a red trunk with the same three-headed creature on the lid was at the foot of her bed ready for use. There was a fireplace warming the room already and candelabras gave light. A desk with paper, ink, and quills was in the corner of her room, a grand wardrobe, a few new furs were sitting on a chair and a bookshelf. Her things were already brought here and sat on a table where she was supposed to have her meals. No matter how grand her room, Freyja couldn’t help but shiver at the emptiness of it. They had left her there alone with Aerion and for the first time since their arrival, Freyja flopped on to her bed and wept her heart out. She sobbed into her pillow so no one could hear, Fenrir jumped on to her bed and snuggled against her. Her only comfort. 

Fingers that were as soft as silk brushed against her forehead. Freyja was too worn out from crying to fully wake up or move. 

“Forgive me,” a soft voice said. It was her King Father. “I’m sorry you hate us. I’m sorry I am not the perfect father. I heard you crying earlier and I wanted to come in to hold you but...” he grew quiet thinking of the right words to say. “I was afraid you will tell me to go away. All I ever want is for you to be happy” Now she was fully awake but didn’t dare open her eyes, she wanted to hear everything her King Father had to say. “I just want you to know that I love you very much. You are the only child I will ever have and I want to give you what I never had; the love of a father” Freyja’s stomach flipped and her heart bloomed. “You are my little dragon. My little princess. My own heaven on Earth.” This man was her real father and she knew he meant every word he said, a love she didn’t know was there warmed her. Freyja knew it was going to take some time but she will grow accustomed to her new life and maybe even enjoy it as much as she did back in Kattegat. Who knew? Maybe being the daughter of a King wouldn’t be so bad. The door creaked open and followed by the clanking of metal and the door closing again.

“Leave her be, Your Grace. She needs her rest”, Uncle Jaime said stopping by the foot of her bed.

“I don’t want her to hate me,” said her father ignoring what Uncle had said to him, “I want her to love this new life”

“You do realize it will take time? She’s a child, Rhaegar. She still needs to get used to the idea that she’s a princess”

Rhaegar was silent for a moment. Freyja laid there listening to the sounds of their breathing. 

“What’s this?” Freyja heard the ruffling of cloth and suddenly her King Father’s hand gripped her own.

“Where did she get that?” His voice quivered and his nails dug into her palms. 

Freyja frowned. “Isn’t this yours Your Grace? I thought you said it disappeared during the war”

“Yes, I wonder how she managed to get it in her possession. This was brought back all the way from Valyria!”

It took a moment to wonder what they were talking about then her eyes snapped open and she shot up straight from her bed startling both men and Fenrir. 

Uncle Jaime was holding the same dagger Ivar had given her. 

If it was originally her father’s then how did get inside Kattegat? Was it an accident?

No. They tried to kill her but who?

Freyja locked eyes with Rhaegar, his face growing whiter than a ghost’s.

“Y/n” he began to say but Freyja backed away from his grasp, his pretty violet eyes filled with hurt.

“Why did Ivar have it? Why was it in Kattegat?” Freyja wanted to sound brave and demanding like she was taught. 

“I don’t know, little dove but someone wanted to hurt you,” Her father said slowly as if he were talking to a scared doe, he held his hands up showing her he meant no harm. Freyja searched her nightstand for a weapon but found none. 

“Freyja” Uncle Jaime inched closer to her, “We mean it. We don’t know how it got to Kattegat but I can assure you none of us sent it”

Her eyes went from him to her King Father both of their faces sincere and comforting. ‘Odin, Frigg give me a sign they mean their words. Give me a sign I should trust these strangers’. 

The ship rocked to the side causing for the painting of the sea on the wall to fall, breaking the frame. Out of the corner, Freyja noticed a face peering from behind the painting. She bent to push it out of the way and underneath it was another painting but of a beautiful woman. She had dark wavy hair, grey eyes, and porcelain skin. The woman wore a beautiful blue wool dress with fur at the trim, in her hands she held a Winter rose beside her was a white direwolf. The woman’s hand on the wolf’s head while its paw rested on top of her knee.

Those eyes! That woman was her mother and the wolf was...

Fenrir went to Rhaegar and licked his hand then howled the song of Winter. The song of the Moon.

Her pup was the son of her mother’s wolf and a ghost-like hand brushed her cheek and Freyja knew it was her mother. Telling her everything would be alright. To trust her father.

Freyja then threw her arms around her dear King Father.

@lettersofwrittencollective @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @faeeiiry @mellxander1993 @blonddnamedhandz @wanderlust-imagines @-thatgirloverthere- 

[asklordcaptaincastronova]

On becoming the Heir

He had been summoned, though what for, he did not know. He could hear the sound of glass breaking and a engine running as he entered the sitting room.

It had been devastated. The crystal and hardwood drink cabinent had been smashed by the ultramar marble bust of Saint Angevin, amasec and other exotic liquors stained the Malfian carpet. Gladys Castronova was trying to lift the heavy wood

and bronze voidfarer's trunk, and with a grunt of effort is flew several meters, destroying the Baraspine urn.

"Shit," she muttered, and she went to turn off the chainsword that was impaled in the stuffed carnosaur head over the bookshelf

This was... bad. Very bad. Was it finally time for him to meet the Emperor? His mother had summoned him, telling him to dress his very best. The dark blue waistcoat, light blue trousers, supple hide boots and gloves with the white beret.

He cleared his throat

She wheeled, rage in eyes "You" she spat the word out. "You little monster I shou-"

She was cut off by the sitting room door opening and two figures in white on blue armor strode out, each gripping a partisan. Impassive red eyes glared from the white carapace helmets.

Gladys cursed again and pulled her chainsword free. Amadeus took a step back. Who were these people? How did they get in?

And then his Uncle walked in.

Resplendent in golden carapace, a massive candelabra mounted over his back, with 9 candles lit for the 9 loyal primarchs, pauldrons covered with dried and still molten wax. The Aquila tattoo on his shaved head was still there 5 years after he’d last seen him.

The sides of his mustache dripped down. "I see you're still as full of blessed hate as ever Gladys."

She looked down at the chainsword. Lord Captain Roderick raised and eyebrow. The polearms suddenly crackled with power fields. The chainsword dropped to the floor. And Gladys backpedaled away from it.

"That's better dear."

Amadeus realized his jaw had dropped. Nobody threatened mother and lived, several servants had been very gruesomely slaughtered over the years. Still, uncle was the head of the Dynasty...

"Come here child."

The guard’s polearms snapped off. Gladys stood panting, and the Trader glared at her. "Go. Now. You dare to shame we with your tantrums in front of my Oathsworn, widow of my brother."

She hissed.

"Gladys. I will not hurt my family. But I will cast you out into the eternal ocean if you do not leave in the next fifteen seconds. Reginald and Jorge will disarm you, and drag you out."

Gladys snarled, but fled.

Amadeus was still in shock as one of the guards went to the door and stood watch. "Come lad."

The boy lurched to life, his bad legged tripping him up briefly, as he followed his uncle. His brain kicked back into gear.

"Throne's Blessing upon you Uncle Roderick. I had not seen you in three years, has time treated you well."

"Hm? Oh yes," his Uncle continued walking "It has been three years off ship hasn't it? I started on my way back after I heard of Alfred... your father's death. But space travel is not an exact process."

He walked the ruined couch, brushing off some glass and nodded at a chair. "Sit."

Hot wax dripped onto the beasthide covering as his uncle settled onto the couch.

"Amadeus. You know what I am"

He nodded. "You are my uncle, my father's elder brother, Aunt Dorabelle's older brother, the head of our Dynasty, the bearer of the Warrant, Lord-Captain of the Azure Wanderer, Rogue Trader" he recited.

The Trader chuckled. "Yes. And in all that time, has anyone told you what a Rogue Trader does?"

"Nobody told... but I did read."

Roderick sighed. "So what does a Rogue Trader do Amadeus?"

"They are captain of a mighty ship, and take the light of the Golden Throne to the dark places beyond the Imperium, vanquishing Xenos and pirates, whilst also trading in uh... artifacts? And also less exciting things."

Another chuckle. "That's the gist of it yes. And the position is hereditary.” Amadeus nodded again. “It goes to the oldest member of the Dynasty when the Trader dies.”

“Correct. Or at least, it did. Until our house tore itself apart. That is why there are so few of us.”

The boy’s brow furrowed “That explains the missing references then.”

“You have been busy! Yes, the details… can wait for later. But with the death of your father, and your Aunt being well...”

“She hit her head.”

“Yes…. ‘she’ hit her head on Obscura and Tranq.” his uncle scowled momentarily. “So who is the Eldest scion of our house left?”

“Mother.”

Roderick snorted. “No, your Mother married into our House, much like Uncle Viktor. It’s you.”

His guts felt like ice water. “Me?”

“Yes, you. For the next 3 years you will train as hard as you can. Read as much as you can. Be moral, and pious, and safe. And then, when you become 18, I will come to train you in the ways tutors and instructors can not.”

Obey your mother, be kind to your brother and cousin. I will be here for a month taking on the bounty of the Eternal Ocean. Do not think this means you can become spendthrift or else a wastrel or rake. “ his uncle got up and patted his shoulder, then nodded at the guards. He got up to leave then stopped. “Amadeus.”

“Yes Uncle” the youth’s biological eye was wide.

“Try to stay alive.”