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feyhunter78 · 10 months ago

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Chapter Sixteen - The first move has been made, and the Stark boys take what is theirs. Ch 17

My darling Lord Robb,

First, I must thank you for my gifts, they are quite lovely and as you requested, I wore them on my nameday this night past. Many paid me compliments, even Tommen which I must admit was quite humorous. Oh, my love, I long for the day when we are united, I grow tired of waiting. I know it is harsh, but today I was forced to spend three hours listening to Tommen describe his blossoming sword skills. I know he is a child, but the desire within me to tell him that he is nothing compared to my true husband, the Young Wolf, was quite strong.

Y/N reminds me that I must be patient, but I think that is hypocritical considering she has been in such a foul mood since Jon has decided he must act proper as to not get them in trouble. She believes I do not know of their affections, of their dalliance, which I find both insulting and amusing. Only a blind man would be unable to see what is between them, and even a blind man would be able to hear in their voices the affections they have for one another, even now as Jon pretends he is nothing more than a guard.

I am hoping they shall resolve this little spat before you come to save me from this lion’s den. I would like there to be no conflicts within our family, so rest assured I will do all I can to assist either y/n or Jon so that our ascension to power is a peaceful one—at least within our own houses. There will be nothing to distract us upon meeting.

I anxiously await your next letter and the day when we may finally cease writing and speak face to face.

- Yours in earnest, Margaery

Robb presses his lips to her signature before folding the letter and slipping it into his pocket, earning a snort from Theon.

“Will you be this unbearable when you finally get your hands on the girl, or can I expect a reprieve from these disgusting displays of undying affection?” Theon asks, pressing his hand to his forehead pantomiming a swooning figure.

It looks ridiculous as Theon is fully cloaked, his armor hidden by the black fabric, his voice low as they wait for the signal.

They had been lying in wait ever since word had gotten out that the royal family was soon to pass by on their return trip to King’s Landing. The snail’s pace they had taken down to Riverrun to meet with Stannis then here to Highgarden had nearly driven him mad with boredom, but they could not risk alerting the Lannisters further than they already had. Now a mere week after Margaery’s nameday they have set the trap along the Roseroad.

Robb can hardly contain his excitement, soon he will be able to see her, speak with her, take her hands in his own. She will be angry, yes, that she will no longer be queen, that he had deceived her, but she would be queen of his heart. When he thought about such a line, the back of his head still stung from where Sansa had smacked him for it. It will be no replacement for Queen of the Seven Kingdoms , she said, but Robb hoped Margaery would forgive his deception.

It was not even truly a deception born of his own mind; it had been her grandmother's. The North did not want the Iron Throne, would not fight to put one of their own upon it, and his father was far too honorable a man to go against Stannis. There was no other suitable option. Stannis himself was married, had only a daughter, Margaery could not climb any higher, and she would not be safe if she remained married. Not with the truth of Tommen’s birth spreading farther and farther each day.

“You want me to scare her a bit, make you seem more the hero? Might ease her anger.” Theon offers an easy smile spreading across his face.

“Is that what you did to win over my sister?” Robb drawls, scanning the dimly lit road, they should hear the wheelhouses any moment now.

Theon chuckles quietly. “It was I who carried her through the streets of King’s Landing, who kept her safe from the ruffians and murders among the crowd that day.”

“Funny, Sansa said you held onto her sleeve and my father’s tunic as you ran, that you swore you would never visit a brothel again if you survived to the edge of the city.”

Theon scoffs but shifts in his crouched stance. “I have not visited a brothel since then, this is true, but I did not hold onto your father.”

“Just Sansa then?”

“Fuck you Stark.” Theon snarls, but there’s no bite to his words, only the playful ribbing that Robb has grown accustomed to since they were children.

“Will you two shut up?” Dacey Mormont hisses, her eyes like will o’wisps shining in the dark.

Then he feels it, the slight tremor in the ground, Grey Wind's ears perking up. The rush of adrenaline as the carts and wheelhouses begin to appear flanked by guards, guards who are either on their side or far too tired to expect an ambush on a road as well guarded as the Roseroad.

Robb counts the wheelhouses and carts as they pass, he will know hers on sight, Lady Olenna Tyrell had sent him a letter describing it down to the spokes on its wheels. She would not have any other man kidnap her granddaughter. Finally, finally, he spots it, gold trimmed, a rose embossed on each door, the curtains, a red crushed velvet pulled closed, and a freshly repaired third spoke on the second wheel.

Glass shatters up ahead, flames leaping into the air, horses rearing up, and it is time.

Jon guides his horse away from your wheelhouse, towards Robb and Theon. This has been the plan, it has always been the plan, though he had not known it until his father appeared.

“Brother.” Robb says, leaning forward to clasp Jon in a one-arm hug. He is smiling, joyful as if the sky was not filled with smoke, and the road alight with flames, as if the sounds of battle did not rage around them.

“I thought you were told?” Jon asks, confusion adding to the heavy stone of guilt in his stomach.

“I was, nothing has changed, we were raised together, you are my brother as Theon is.” Robb shrugs, nodding towards the Ironborn who had gone to fetch you and Margaery.

Jon squeezes his brother tightly. “Thank you.”

Robb pulls back with a smile. “Do not thank me, not until the anger of our wives dies down.”

Wives. Robb has no fear, he calls Margaery his wife, caring not that she is married to another, but Jon does not share that courage. He cannot shake off the lingering aches of being labeled a bastard all his life so easily. There is still fear someone better will steal you away, that you will resent him for the stigma that followed him for so long.

“Fucking hells.” Theon curses loudly, stumbling back as you and Margaery bust out of the wheelhouse, pushing past him, a blade clutched in Margaery’s hand.

“What a woman.” Robb whistles lowly, kicking his horse into a gallop after you both.

Jon follows, tugging the hood of his cloak further down.

Robb sweeps Maragery from her feet, but your hand is still in hers, and you cry out her name, as she cries out yours. Raw fear and desperation are clear in your eyes, and you dig your heels into the ground, pulling Margaery from Robb’s grasp, the two of you tumbling to the dirt.

You quickly help her up, just in time for Robb to round his horse and ride towards you both. Jon grabs you as he passes by, his arm an iron band around your waist keeping you locked against his chest.

You struggle against him, screaming when Robb sweeps Margaery onto his horse. “The Queen, save the Queen!”

Your cries draw the attention of some Lannister guards who are fighting against men Jon remembers from Winterfell, arrows fly and take advantage of their distraction, the Lannister men crumbling to the ground.

You scream again, terrified, and it guts him to realize you are screaming his name, begging him to save you.

Why has he not spoken? Why has he let you believe he was a stranger? It is the adrenaline, the rush of battle that has paralyzed his tongue, dried out his mouth and he finally forces it to work, unsticking it from the roof of his mouth. “Y/N, y/n, it is me, my starlight, you are safe.”

You twist in his hold, terrified eyes meeting his. “Thank the gods, Jon, we must turn back, we must rescue Margaery.”

“She is well, all is well, I promise.” Jon says, kicking his horse into a gallop.

Robb cannot say if he is upset or overjoyed at Margaery’s reaction to the news. It had been a few hours now, the moonlit fading, the sun soon to rise. First, she was frightened, then apologetic when she saw the cut she had given Theon with her dagger, then she was smiling, and it is a smile he would gladly give his life for. But now, now she is angry, her words calm, her voice even, and soft, but he can see it in her eyes.

“You deceived me, My Lord, you said I would be queen.” She says, fixing him with a look that he knows he will see much more of in their shared years to come. “Now you tell me Stannis’ dour wife will sit in my place instead. That you have organized a kidnapping to lure the remaining Lannisters here, that way Stannis and your father will have no trouble taking King’s Landing.”

“My Lady, it was your grandmother’s idea, Stannis would not hesitate to lock you away or marry you off to an old, fat bannerman of his if you had attempted to keep your position as queen. He might have even ordered you killed if an agreement had not struck for your safety.” He explains, taking her hands in his and pressing them to his lips, they are as soft as he imagined.

Margaery cannot hide the smile tugging at the corners of her lips, not from him, even though her eyes still flash dangerously. “So, you thought to make that choice for me? What if I wished to marry an old, fat lord?”

He chuckles, and presses her hand to his chest, allowing her to feel not only his steady heartbeat but the hardened muscle. Y/N had written to him of Margaery’s likes and dislikes, what caught her eye, what displeased her. “If you truly want that, I am sure there is a Frey somewhere you could marry.”

He slides her hand down slowly, taking a step closer, his voice low. “But I have waited a very long time to finally set my eyes upon you, to feel your hand in mine, and if I am to send you to a Frey, at least allow me the honor of hearing my name fall from your lips.”

Her eyes flicker to his, then to his lips, then back again, a smirk curling on her own as her lashes flutter. “Like this, Robb? ”

She says his name so sweetly he nearly groans, but he stands firm, “not quite.”

Margaery pouts up at him, then tangles her fingers in the laces of his tunic and pulls him forward, going up on her toes, her lips parted so invitingly. “Do not be mean to me, Robb, I am to be your wife.”

Old gods take him, he is not Jon, he does not possess the strength his cousin does. He cups her cheek and kisses her, crushing her to him, walking her backwards until she falls onto his bed, him hovering above her, refusing to relinquish her lips.

Margaery sighs beneath him, carding her fingers through his hair. “Was that better?”

“Much better.” He laughs breathily, pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips.

“I am queen Robb; I wish to still be queen.” She says softly, looking up at him with those doe eyes, she is so beautiful, a goddess of spring.

Robb caresses her cheek, pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of her nose. “I wished to keep you as queen, but it would not be safe. I offer you myself instead, and the whole of the North, I shall remake it to your desires.”

She ponders his words, and for a moment cold fear strikes through him.

“I guess that will be enough. I shall draw up plans quickly, and present them to you for your input, you know the capabilities of your people far better than I do.” She says, giving him that radiant smile, her hair splayed out, her lips kiss swollen, her eyes lowered demurely.

“Do not look at me like that, I know you are much too spirited to play such a meek part.” He says, flipping them over and running his hand through her hair, the silky tresses falling through his fingers like water.

Margaery plants her hands on his chest, smiling coyly. “You do not wish me to play your good little wife?”

He chuckles. “You may pretend with all others, but not with me. I have seen you Margaery, the core of you, we have spent too long writing each other for me not to know who you truly are.” He sits up, brushing the hair from her neck, his fingers trailing down the pure, unblemished skin. “And I quite like you without the mask, will you allow me to see more?”

Her breath catches in her throat, and he takes that as a yes.

Jon sees you bite your lip and glance at him, the sounds from within Robb and Margaery’s tent are soft, but not soft enough to spare you both the embarrassment. “Do you think they know we are here?”

He knows his ears are bright red, he can feel them burning, and he shakes his head. “I doubt it, Robb is bold, but…not that bold.”

“Perhaps we should come back at a later time?” You suggest shuffling your feet in the dirt.

The sounds grow louder, and Jon takes your arm, walking briskly away. “I think that would be best.”

You both wait until you are far enough from the tent and dissolve into peals of laughter, doubling over.

“I cannot believe—oh I must tease her for that later.” You get out through your laughter, the moonlight giving you an ethereal glow.

Jon wipes tears of mirth from his eyes. “I knew he was eager to meet her, but I thought his honor would hold till her marriage was annulled, at the very least.”

You look at him, laughter dying down, a smile on your beautiful face. “I guess I cannot blame them, I do not know what I would do if we were separated for such a long time.”

Jon reaches for your hand, caressing the soft skin, admiring the silver ring gracing your hand. His father had brought it from Starfell, it was his mother’s, a starburst amethyst that shined when the light hit it. “I do not think I would bed you where anyone could hear, even if we had spent years apart.”

You give him a mischievous smile, taking a step closer, your free hand on his chest, your lips mere inches from his. “Even if I asked?”

He presses your hand in his to his lips instead of responding, and you giggle.

“Let us pray we shall never be parted then.” You say, rising up on your toes to press your lips to his in a quick kiss.

His cheeks burn, and he ducks his head. “Y/N, someone could see.”

“We are to be married remember, and we are among your cousin’s men, I am sure they will not begrudge us one small kiss.” You tease, ghosting your lips over his as you speak, your fingers sliding between the laces of his tunic.

“You are a temptress, a vile, vile temptress.” Jon groans softly, his eyes fluttering shut as you begin to draw circles on his chest with your nails. He bridges the gap between you two, even the scent of smoke that lingers on your clothing can smother the smell of your jasmine perfume. He nearly groans again when you part your lips for him so readily, desperate to further intertwine yourself with him.

A familiar sharp cough breaks the two of you apart, and Jon swears beneath his breath. “Theon.”

“Jon.” Theon smirks.

“Lord Greyjoy.” You say, brushing the hair back from your face in an attempt to look put together.

“Lady Lannister.” Theon nods his head towards you, still smirking. “We have been called to gather. Tyrion Lannister has sent his response.”

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo, @legolastheleafyelf, @faerie-film, @wifiatthetrainstation, @duskypinki, @tartine-de-pain

#meg's writing #jon snow x reader #jon snow x y/n #jon snow x you #lannister!reader #Jon Dayne #jon snow imagines #robb stark x margaery tyrell #robb stark #margaery tyrell #theon greyjoy #theon x sansa

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saccharinecoffee · 7 months ago

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In merit and rule, Ch. 1 | LouWill

Pairing ◈ Louis Guiabern & Will

Chapter word count ◈ 2,102

Info & Warnings ◈ Post-canon, slow burn, mutual pining, future smut, Louis social link, spoilers for the whole game!!

Read on Ao3

"As penance for his crimes, His Majesty the King William I has sentenced Count Louis Guiabern to a life of duty in service of the crown." The rightful heir takes the throne, Louis bends the knee, and a strange bond of trust is forged.

“As penance for his crimes, His Majesty the King William I has sentenced Count Louis Guiabern to a life of duty in service of the crown.”

The throne room was dead silent as Batlin read his first decree to the Lords and Ladies of the United Kingdom of Euchronia. Will was seated at the very back, on the elevated marble podium where the people’s throne lay. At the very foot of it were his comrades in arms, the recently appointed Six Partisans and his captive in war. Between Leon Strohl and Eiselin Hulkenberg was the man every single person in the room was staring at with looks of utter contempt and disdain, a tall head of pale blond curls and soiled cream leather.

Bound in iron around his wrists and stripped of his igniters he was only a man, and one nobody could bring themselves to fear any longer.

“King William I does not pardon his crimes against Euchronia,” continued the crier, “but offers leniency on the count of the admittance of his guilt and his unprompted submission to His Grace.”

That was enough to prompt a buzzing of chatter amongst the crowd. In hushed voices and frustrated huffing they displayed their scorn, not just for Louis, but also his prosecution.

Batlin rolled up his scroll and glanced sheepishly at Will. He could only sigh. He’d always expected that dealing with the Lords would be the most difficult part of ruling, but he hadn’t expected pushback on his very first audience, much less with how overwhelmingly popular Louis had been.

The people were fickle, he supposed. Especially those who wanted to poke and prod their way up the social ladder.

He stood up and raised his hand, quieting the whispers across the hall in an instant. The long, regal cape he wore over his shoulders weighed down his every movement, and his crown just the same. Symbols of the responsibility he bore of carrying both his fate and the people’s trust. There was, however, a safety in that feeling, one he saw reflected in the eyes of his closest friends, his confidants, and now, his protectors. It only spurred him further and lit the dark path before his feet.

“Count Louis has done this country a great harm and disservice, be it in regicide, conspiracy, or magic-born atrocities – of this I will never deny,” he spoke loud and firmly. He took a step down, and then another, inching closer to his comrades and his captive with every word he uttered. “However! I will not put another man to the sword without due process and reason. The former was resolved the moment Louis Guiabern bent the knee before the Six and I. The latter is made clear if you take the smallest glance at the life he has led.”

He stood before them all on equal footing. Etiquette demanded the King to always stand above all, or so he learnt in his youth. Instead, he followed the rule he chose for himself. With his back to his chained nemesis and his front to the country’s most powerful figureheads. His journey to that point had taught him many a skill, and audacity was but one of them.

“My Lords and Ladies this man has more use to us alive than he does dead. No matter how you spin the truth, that much is clear.”

Years of stellar service in the military, unprecedented skill in battle, wisdom in war and intelligence in analysis. Resilience in facing horrors, shrewdness in overcoming obstacles, and building an empire of his own. Banding tribes of all creeds together and making them work with each other seamlessly was but the tip of the iceberg. Look a little under that and one could find a wealth of rich expertise. Louis was everything he needed in a new administration. If he weren’t so corrupted by grief he might have made an admirable ally from the get-go.

When he turned around to face away the disgruntled crowd, Hulkenberg eyed him somberly in concern. It mattered not. He knew he was doing the right thing.

“Do any of you know what it is like to hold no prejudice in your heart? To treat others equally and measure them on their work and character alone?”

Louis’s eyes pierced his own most sharply, something indescribable in the ice-cold blue of his irises.

“This man’s crimes will not be ignored, and will not go unpunished. But he will be utilised to help further our nation’s project of unification and equity. Despite our countless differences, and despite his treason, we have a shared ideal.” He faced the crowd one last time, and in earnest, he concluded. “I ask only that you trust my judgement.”

Louis was tall and dignified, even when bound and rid of his prosthetic horns. He towered over Will as he eyed their Clemar, Roussainte and Rhoag guests with as much disdain as his stoicism permitted. It was satisfying, Will realised. So used to the vitriol of others he was, he’d quickly learnt to always keep his head down and save face. Louis cared little of it, especially now that the cat was out of the bag. Self-preservation meant nothing when stripped of titles and protected under the crown.

When he looked down at Will, he could have sworn he was smirking just a fraction. The notion aggravated him. It was hard not to when Louis was the reason he lost so much and almost lost a whole lot more.

“Louis Guiabern. Do you swear now and forever, in front of all the great houses of the Kingdom of Euchronia, your undying fealty to me as your King and to my sovereignty across the land?”

Louis’s eyes sharpened like blades, his gaze never leaving Will’s as he got down on one knee and reached his bound hands for Will’s own. The gesture was unexpected, more akin to how a knight might ask a maiden for her favour than a soldier begging forgiveness. Weeks of strange emotions welled up in him, weeks of taking apart and building Louis’s ideology back together, of analysing every look he gave Will over the course of their acquaintance in futile attempts and better understanding him, of begrudgingly easily empathising with his feelings as a fellow Elda, orphaned and cursed and left with nothing to grasp but a name. Spellbound, he watched the blond's elegant movements, his gaze met with his own. Like he could read Will wide open, in most infuriating defiance, he brought his left hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. He felt his cheeks burn, heart caught in his throat as his lips curled into a scowl. The Lords were all used to rings being kissed by their vassals, the Ladies accustomed to roses and handkerchiefs. Louis was of the Eldan Sanctum, of the skies and the battlefield; what he did was a provocation, surely, not fealty.

Will looked up and met the mortified looks on his friends' faces, Hulkenberg and Heismay ready with hands on the hilts of their swords. But Will, heart pounding in his ears and so drawn into Louis’s strange web, only watched in vexed fascination.

The curly blond tresses of his hair were more matted than before in the aftermath of his imprisonment, but they curled into his cheeks and framed his face most handsomely nonetheless. His surcoat was dirtied in brown, either by blood died cold or dirt left unshrugged from the aftermath of their battle and fall from the skies.

It was arrogance. Everything about Louis dripped that brand of confidence built like gilded armour around a heart they both knew and saw was tortured with anxious trauma. To feign submission most transparently, after everything he did to him and his country, was begging for punishment. Will was forgiving and understanding, with a heart large enough to gather all with both flaw and virtue, but Louis was walking on a knife’s edge. Purposefully so.

He did not hide the frustration in his face. And Louis seemed utterly amused, gazing up through his lashes and pretty hair. If he could, Will would show him his royal archetype once more.

“I’ve already done so, Your Grace. But I swear it anew before the pigs who gorge themselves on that which they did not earn.”

It took Will’s best efforts not to laugh amidst his anger. It was a great offence, one that had gasps and loud sneers of indignation echoing throughout the hall, begging for their Majesty to cull the man’s head right off his shoulders for insubordination.

Will barely heard any of them, as he and the man below him shared something between their locked gazes that kept his feet rooted to the ground. His undivided attention rested not in the court or in the words he ought to say, but the conspiratorial smile the Count offered most willingly. Perhaps he did wrong in doubting him.

The look in his mirthful eyes wasn’t one of insubordination; it was one of a desire for challenge. His tongue peeked from between his lips and licked over the raw, pink skin, barely parched despite the less-than-optimal conditions of his prison cell. Will mirrored the gesture unconsciously, his heart fluttering with excitement in his chest, his palms growing sweaty.

Naive. They would call him naive. But how could they not, when they didn’t know what it was that swimmed between them when he grabbed Louis from the fall and brought him back to his senses amidst the humid earth at dawn. They didn’t understand the grief in Louis’s eyes as he saw the King’s archetype fall from around Will as he closed his hands in tight fists in his lap, his ego crushed and his ideals of equality smothered by his King. They could never even guess the strange grin he gave him as he admitted with uncharacteristic humility Will was his better, worthy of the title, and leagues stronger than he ever could be.

For a man like Louis, that was loyalty in the truest form. Loyalty born out of pure, unadulterated merit. He was a man who followed not the rule of law but the rule of labour.

Vexation and feverish heat ever present, Will nodded, his voice so low only Louis and those closest to them could hear.

“Doublecross me at your own risk.”

Louis cocked his head to the side, not unlike a playful cat. His pale thumb unconsciously traced over his knuckle.

“Do you mistrust me so, that you’d doubt me after all you’ve seen?”

“I don’t know what to think about you.” The words were almost spat out, the months of exhaustion that had insidiously built up beginning to creep up on him the more he tried to make sense of the blond.

“I think you do,” he said with utmost ease, his voice silky soft and caressing him in all the right ways. Louis was complicated, a right headache of a man, but at the root of it they were two sides of the same coin. Bound by tribe, by ideals, by fate. He could assume the worst all he desired, the truth was bare and spoken plainly before him.

He squeezed Louis's hand lightly, the walls around his heart hardening. As he slipped it away from his calloused palm, little jolts of electricity danced on the surface of sun-kissed skin.

New Bond: Rank one.

“You’ll earn my trust if you’re as honest as you claim to be.”

For a fraction of a second Louis seemed relieved, bowing his head as his shoulders relaxed before looking back up with the same infuriating smile.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Will took a deep breath, the weight of his Kingdom on his back as he took his sword out. He brought the tip to Louis’s left shoulder, then raised it and rested it on the right.

“I pronounce thee, Louis Guiabern, my loyal vassal and retainer henceforth,” he spoke louder, projecting his voice deserving of his title. He then sheathed his sword and took a step back. “Now rise.”

Louis did just that, towering over Will once more. He realised how relaxed he had been as he watched him quickly became rigid before the hateful eyes of the court. He was nothing if not a caged animal patiently peering through iron bars and salivating at his own bloody thoughts. It threatened to send a shiver down his spine.

“This audience is adjourned," he said finally, wiping the sweat of his hands on the pristine fabric of his trousers. "I bid you all good tidings and safe travels.”

◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider sharing and checking out my other works! 💗💗💗

#my fanfic #louwill #louishu #loushu #this ship's name is still a work in progress at this point i think #metaphor #metaphor refantazio #louis guiabern #metaphor will #louis guiabern x will #louis x will #metaphor spoilers

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 2 years ago

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hello! can i ask a Leonidas and Apollo that is in a romantic ployrelationship with a male y/n that is king arthur himself,

note:this is a long one)if you don't know king Arthur here's some information:

King Arthur is a legendary king of Britain, and a central figure in the medieval literary tradition known as the Matter of Britain. In Welsh sources, Arthur is portrayed as a leader of the post-Roman Britons in battles against Anglo-Saxon invaders of Britain in the late 5th and early 6th centuries.

He was a warrior, a knight and a king who killed giants, witches and monsters and led a band of heroes on many daring adventures. He is known for his Knights of the Round Table and for uniting the peoples of his land. Even though his end was tragic, he is still known and celebrated all over the world today.

King Arthur's most famous weapon, sometimes conflated with the sword in the stone, is Excalibur. Excalibur is, in some versions of Arthur's story, the same as the sword in the stone. In others, he is given Excalibur by a mystical Lady in the Lake

and so for the real request:

so like y/n would be a calm and collective person that would never get pissed off even if you try too piss him off and is the type that does not care what there partner title is, or what they look like and just love's them for them.(and like Arthur is there real name and "y/n" is

there nickname/fake name?)

and that's why Leonidas and Apollo fell for them as y/n didn't care about what Apollo looked like and how he didn't care if Leonidas was strong or was a king and just Loved them for who they are.

both Apollo and Leonidas don't know that y/n is king Arthur himself,but they do know y/n is a king, and the reason why they don't know that? it's because y/n was very vague about it, like they just said they're a well known and great king but didn't pecifically say who. so Apollo and Leonidas just went with that y/n was some great leader/king.

and when Ragnarok came around y/n was worried about their 2 lovers but in this one it ends in a tie so y/n is very relieved at this,

and a little time skip! so it was too the end of Ragnarok when the god's surprised Brunhilde with a whole new round!

so Brunhilde only know's one more person…it was y/n or his real title… king Arthur.

at first y/n declined but after Brunhilde said who would he be fighting…let's call them gladiones who is another/different god of war and victory and a well known narcissistic god would be his opponent that's when y/n accepted immediately

(let's just say y/n absolutely despises gladiones, because of his arrogant, prideful and narcissistic behavior as well as gladiones threatening to attack his kingdom(Camelot) when he was alive back on earth…)

and coincidentally y/n's Valkyrie also hate's gladiones as much as he does so they work perfectly together!

let's go to when they introduce y/n or Arthur:

so like Leonidas and Apollo are in the stadium sitting and looking around for y/n as well as waiting for them,but they don't know that y/n is the next fighter,

so when gladiones was done getting introduce, all looked at the entrance for

Arthur or y/n

(keep in mind the gods and humans don't know who will be the next fighter)

they realize a cloaked figure was waking out all them realizing there was a rock that had a sword embedded into it, as everyone watched the cloak figure go to the rock holding the handle of the sword before taking out the sword from the rock as it flashed everyone with a bright light,

after the light vanished it revealed who was wearing the cloak and it was y/n! that's When heimdall introduce y/n as the legendary king himself king Arthur! and the sword that they pulled out of the rock was none other then the legendary sword itself…Excalibur!!(and of course would be his weapon his Valkyrie also made it that he can transform Excalibur to any divine weapon he wants.

and a dozen brave knights and the round table cheering for him)

and before heimdall could even say to Begin,both of them charged at each other weapons drawn with the intention of defeating the other as there wepon hit, it had created a little crater beneath them making shock waves go through the arena,

and so gladiones and y/n's fight would be the most "ON SIGHT" type fight in ragnarok as well as the longest ,and the first time Leonidas and Apollo seeing y/n or Arthur so pissed off…like y/n looking at gladiones with the most pissed look you can imagine a shadow covering his face as you can see the veins on the side of his face/on his forehead…the pure heated tension between the two being so thick that you can practically cut it with a butter knife…

and so, not only was, y/n and his Valkyrie beating down on gladiones physically but mentally too like:

when gladiones took a kneel and was seriously injured because of y/n's attack,and y/n's Valkyrie would say something like this:

"hm what's this? taking a kneel already!? have you accepted defeat that easily!"

(and would cheer if they manage to knock gladiones on his a$$ giving him a taste of his own medicine! or in short term imagine Geirölul and Leonidas interactions but more bloodlusted and more hatred and unlike Leonidas and Apollo that is one sided like one compliments the other while the other insults them, both of them hates each other as like beating down each other's with words and action with no mercy)

of course y/n would win, as gladiones was fading away, when he was about to say his last words,y/n stabbed Excalibur right in gladiones head making his head completely disintegrate, not giviqng him a chance to say anything, that's how much y/n hates gladiones, bro didn't give him a chance to say his last words.

and so how would Leonidas and Apollo react to his fight

and both him and his Valkyrie absolute hatred and bloodlust for gladiones.

(i hope this isn't too much for you to write and if you want you can just do the reaction's only :> )

(AND REMEMBER DON'T OVER WORK YOURSELF AND STAY HYDRATED & HAVE A GOOD DAY OR NIGHT ‼️‼️)

-You were known to be one of the greatest kings of all time- one who was loyal, hardworking, had the love of your people, and even in modern day the legend of King Arthur lives on.

-In Valhalla you were well liked and very respected, many still looking up to you as a king as you always made sure to help others.

-Those who didn’t know who you were thought you were weak for helping others, and some tried to attack you, wanting to put you in your place.

-They weren’t expecting to be fighting a legendary warrior- especially not King Arthur of all people!! You gave a speech, inspiring them afterwards, that just because you help others does not make you weak- it made you stronger, because you were willing to do what others wouldn’t.

-Not only getting their asses beat by just you, then to get called out on it on top of it did humble your attackers and when you visited the children you were helping a few days later- they told you how your attackers had been helping more, something you admired them for- praising them.

-Your strength and your qualities as a good leader caught the eyes of many, admirers who respected you and what you could do, but you’ve also had been approached many times romantically.

-You were always hesitant on entering another relationship, after you had been betrayed so cruelly by the woman you loved and by one of your most trusted friends and allies.

-However, there were two men who had caught your interest and managed to keep it, who were like cats and dogs with each other, but with you between them, they got along… most of the time, and to be honest, you had never been happier.

-You just never imagined that those you found your happiness with would be two other men, another legendary king like yourself, Leonidas of Sparta, and Apollo, Greek god of the sun.

-Apollo adored how you were much like Leonidas- you were unapologetically you- you didn’t care what others thought about you, you did what made you happy and what made you happy was helping others.

-Leonidas admired you for your strength, not just as a warrior, but as a king, because you knew when to fight and you knew when to talk and he could see how others admired you for the king you were.

-You found peace with them, they were your quiet place, where you could just relax, and they were the only ones to know your nickname, the one only those closest to you are allowed to know, Y/N.

-When Ragnarok was announced, Apollo and Leonidas were approached to fight for their respective sides.

-You watched your lovers beat the hell out of each other, pushing each other to their limits- as the three of you had promised one another, as you and Leonidas were on the opposite side of Apollo, that if any of you had been opponents, that they wouldn’t hold back.

-Their fight ended in a double knockout, and you remained by both of their sides as they were being patched up and tended to.

-When the gods decided, after humanity had won, to try and pull a fast one, demanding one more match, all or nothing, Brunnhilde knew exactly who to go to.

-As you approached the gates, your Valkyrie partner came up beside you, taking your hand as she became your Volundr, a shield, one in the shape of a lion’s head, as you both were silently fuming.

-Your opponent was a god of war, a cruel and violent man- one who wasn’t worthy of his power or his title, Gladiones and you both were ready to bash his face in, mainly because when he was announced as the final fighter for the gods, he had laughed cruelly at those who had fallen, and insulted your lovers- saying that they weren’t strong enough to win and it ended in a tie, which in his eyes was disgraceful.

-You remember him well when you were still alive, when he attempted to attack Camelot, wanting to test its strength and the strength of those inside- you beat him back, but you had lost so many friends that day. You swore never to forgive that bastard.

-Apollo and Leonidas were back on their feet, just a little banged up as the nurses were able to heal them up, curious about this last fight, while Apollo looked around, “Where is Y/N?”

-Leonidas, a bit cranky because he was told he can’t smoke yet, glanced around, “Not sure- he was there in the infirmary with us but now he’s no where to be seen.”

-Gladiones was announced first and so many people were booing- seeing the poor sportsmanship of the gods and Zeus was quickly feeling the anger, it made the gods look bad for wanting to try to pull out one last fight because they didn’t want to be seen as losers.

-Leonidas clicked his tongue, heat radiating off of him, as Gladiones was an even bigger bastard than Apollo, and Apollo had to agree- Gladiones was a poor excuse for a god.

-In the center of the arena, a hole opened and a rock rose on a lift, a sword imbedded as the door for humanity opened, a cloaked figure walking out, walking towards the sword, holding a lion’s head shield.

-You inhaled deeply, seeing the sword that you had held for so long, the sword that helped you become the king you were today.

-You grabbed the hilt of the sword, all eyes on you and as you pulled the sword from the stone, a bright light flash banged everyone and blew your cloak off.

-As the light faded, everyone was stunned to see you, to see King Arthur there, now holding Caliburn once again in your hand. (Excalibur is the sword from the Lady of the Lake, while Caliburn is the sword in the stone, however historians have sometimes melded the two into one sword- Excalibur, but in the original legend they were two very different swords.)

-Heimdall didn’t even have a chance to introduce you, but many knew your name, as Gladiones immediately charged for you and you inhaled deeply before charging, fury in your eyes and rage in your blood.

-Your blades met, causing a shockwave to create a shallow crater around the two of you, blowing Heimdall back, and creating a strong wind that blew many back head over heels.

-Leonidas grinned broadly, “Kick his ass Y/N!” and soon all of humanity was at your back, as well as Apollo and the gods who supported humanity, now wanting humanity to survive as they had shown their strength and willingness to fight.

-You didn’t hear their cheers, you were only focused on Gladiones, and your Valkyrie, who was holding the shield alongside you smirked darkly, “Let’s end this quickly, shall we my king?”

-You didn’t answer, instead immediately going on the attack, both you and Gladiones parrying each other’s blows, not giving an inch, war cries escaping your lips as you went harder and harder.

-Gladiones was quickly gritting his teeth, no longer parrying you and instead he had to focus on dodging and blocking your blows- as he was being pushed back.

-He wasn’t expecting you to take a leaf out of Leonidas’ book and you swung with your shield, bashing into his face.

-Your Valkyrie was all smiles, “Do it again!” and so you did- hitting him with your shield after he blocked your sword, knocking him back head over heels.

-You seemed brutal, but you knew that Gladiones was a cruel god who would take any opening- any hint at weakness or mercy and he would immediately attack, so you gave him none- as you knew that you would receive none from him.

-Apollo was staring with big sparkly eyes, watching you fight so seriously- you looked awesome!! Leonidas was cheering loudly alongside everyone else, cheering for you.

-Gladiones reeled after you surprised everyone by headbutting him, after he blocked both your sword and your shield, sending him to the ground.

-Unlike you, still going strong, Gladiones was on his last legs- he never imagined that you were this strong, this fierce- but you had a lot of drive in you. You were willing to do whatever it took to win- not for yourself, but for humanity.

-As Gladiones started to fade away and you were announced as the winner, Gladiones looked up at you, almost like he wanted to beg for mercy.

-You stunned all by drive the sword through his head, ending his suffering, as he was slowly dying. You didn’t let him utter a single word, ending his life quickly- the one mercy you were willing to give him.

-Everyone was cheering, seeing how hard you had fought- seeing you determination as you exhaled deeply, your shoulders sagging as your partner took back her form, leaping into your arms, cheering loudly, “You did it Y/N!”

-You couldn’t help but smile, patting the back of her head gently as you hugged her back as Zeus finally announced that humanity had earned their right for survival, and that as gods- they were going to do their jobs.

-You went backstage, smiling warmly as you heard the cheers still echoing throughout the arena. Your heard running footsteps and you grinned, opening your arms as Apollo leapt into your arms, “Y/N!”

-You hugged him close, and he felt you sag into him lightly, the tension leaving your body as Leonidas made it to you, putting his hand on the back of your head, “That was amazing Y/N! I knew you had it in you!”

-You celebrated with them, and with the rest of humanity, celebrating the survival of humanity and seeing the gods finally pulling their heads out of their asses and doing their jobs.

-You mourned those who fell in battle but celebrated those who survived- all by the sides of your lovers- you could finally relax.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror apollo #ror leonidas

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destroyerofnations92 · 1 month ago

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Patreon: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 AO3: to be posted (TBP)

Teaser a house divided, ch. 1: the fall of an empire broken and the rise of a kingdom united, part one

She could smell it in the air—the ash and sulphur of an empire brought to its knees by the Most Divine.

Each of the fourteen volcanoes around which her ancestors and their peers had built the grand City of Valyria were named after one of their Gods and now those same Gods had turned their backs on the people they lifted from relative obscurity.

The horrors of bondage and sacrifice had the Fourteen abandon their chosen people and the greatest civilisation that ever was, was no more.

While rumours say that the dragonlords of old started as simple sheep farmers, this was not completely right. The people that inhabited the Valyrian Peninsula before the Freehold was born had farmers amongst them, certainly, but also fishermen, healers, builders, scholars and much more.

All had changed for the Valyrians when the Great Empire of the Dawn collapsed. Ancient tribes previously united under one divine ruler all went their own way, including those of the Valyrian peninsula.

The Hero with the Flaming Sword had saved them all from the forces of darkness but the promised land would never rise again. Still, despite its fall, the remnants of the Great Empire of the Dawn had influenced the peninsula millennia after its destruction during the Long Night.

Instead of the Dawn rebuilding itself, the Golden Empire was born in the Further East, while the once ripe lands to its East fell to darkness and shadow and ancient magics thought too vile to mention aloud.

In the centuries and millennia after, the petty kingdoms and principalities of Andalos, the Rhoyne and Chroyane rose and fell in quick succession.

Until the Freehold.

Those Valyrian peoples had not forgotten the ways of old and through their magic made rise to the grandest empire the world had ever seen.

All through the power of fire and blood.

But now all was gone.

Ten and two years prior, her great father had heeded her dreams and had packed up all they had—gold, iron and gems, steel and armour, maps, books and tomes, dragons and their eggs, ships and dromonds. Their familial temple and manse they sold, as they did all their properties on the Peninsula, including their mines and farmland—all without losing too much.

Her father and mothers bartered for secrets which the Targaryens never had been privy to—the mysteries of the blood- and firemages of the Anogrion and those of the smithies of the Military Centre. If he could have, Aenar Targaryen would have sold their familial title of Freeholder, but alas, Freeholders they remained—amongst the last of their kind now.

Their peers mocked them but her usually proud father cared not for he believed in Daenys and her dreams.

A dragonlord bloodline abandoning Valyria was unheard of—there were only forty of them. All predicted that they would return soon enough, with their tails between their legs. The Ānogens Targariēn had never been amongst the more powerful bloodlines but before their departure, they were considered the lowest of the low.

Her father asked for and was granted Archonship over Dragonstone by the Synod but he was also humiliated by and jeered at by its members. They called him a craven and a weakling to his face and tried to hoodwink him behind his back in the hopes of gaining the Targaryen properties that were being sold.

Aenar Targaryen took it all in stride, for he had grand ambitions.

As they prepared to take over rule of Dragonstone, the Freehold’s westernmost outpost, her father sent ahead a grand fleet with all their possessions and their people—healers, scholars, teachers, and even a blood- and firemage or two.

The grand isle, once abandoned to the waves and its grand volcano, was swiftly reinvigorated. All over its lands, the new Lord and Ladies of Dragonstone opened iron and ore mines, planted forests and built lumber houses, fishing villages, armed forts and harbours for their trade and war vessels. Valyrian roads had been lain with magic and a grand fused stone wall had been erected to close the Dragonmont and Dragonstone castle from the populated parts of the isle.

The Dragonmont gave life to a grand dragonpit, where their dragons were no longer shackled but instead allowed to roam free, as well as a carved and sculpted tower to house their scholars, healers and magicdoers. Near the grand castle of Dragonstone, they ordered built a Temple to the Fourteen and a trade house, from where all trade and business was done.

It took them only a little more than a decade to turn Dragonstone into a thriving land with an exploding populace, which was self-sufficient and profitable.

This great isle on the edge of the Freeholder lands, once forgotten by its rulers or at least ignored, now would be their home and that of the last dragons.

The Fall of Valyria would be the key to all they had worked toward the past few years being not for nought. With the Doom, chaos would reign on Essos for at least a few decades. The stranglehold the Freehold had on the western and central parts of the eastern continent was nearly absolute.

While they had foreseen some dragonlords surviving, they knew it would be none of the major ones. Perhaps a few visiting the colonies but they would prove no threat, for they had five adult dragons, seven drakes, three hatchlings and several warm eggs in the hatchery.

“Is all well, my love?”

Her husband was a kind and loving man in private and the perfect heir and second in public. As the two eldest children, Daenys and Gaemon were bound to inherit all their father and family had built here on Dragonstone and beyond, while after them, their children Aegon and Elaena would succeed them.

The young mother of two turned around and smiled sadly, “It burns. It all burns.”

“And so it begins,” Gaemon kissed the back of her neck, “We must inform father. The armies must be raised, our fleet readied for invasion and the dragons prepared for war.”

“War it is then?”

“War it is.”

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radical-revolution · 1 year ago

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“I allow myself to hope that the world will emerge from its present troubles, that it will one day learn to give the direction of its affairs, not to cruel swindlers and scoundrels, but to men possessed of wisdom and courage. I see before me a shining vision: a world where none are hungry, where few are ill, where work is pleasant and not excessive, where kindly feeling is common, and where minds released from fear create delight for eye, ear and heart. Do not say this is impossible. It is not impossible. I do not say it can be done tomorrow, but I do say that it could be done within a thousand years, if only men would bend their minds to the achievement of the kind of happiness that should be distinctive of man.“

— Bertrand Russell, Human Society in Ethics and Politics (1954), Part II: The Conflict of Passions, Ch. X: Prologue or Epilogue?, p. 238

Image: Bertrand Russell in the flower garden of his home at Penrhyndeudreath, Gwynedd, United Kingdom, 22 June 1965.

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girlactionfigure · 4 months ago

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🔅TERROR THWARTED, INFILTRATION ALERT, US AID FUNDED ISRAELI PROTESTS - Real-time from Israel

⚠️INFILTRATION ALERT - GAN NER (near Jenin, Samaria) - 12:44 - Dear residents. Due to an unusual event in the area, please enter your homes and lock your doors until further notice. A man in his 60s claims he was attacked with an axe in Gan Ner by a suspicious person who fled the scene. Suspected terror, though some reports say the attacker was an Israeli.

🔪TERRORISM - THWARTED - TAMRA area - a man was arrested with an explosive belt on him, update: eliminated after being uncooperative (other reports say arrested). The matter is under investigation by the police.

▪️TERROR SUPPORTERS PAYING - protestors to come to a protest in New York.

▪️AID - According to estimates, the 600 trucks entering Gaza a day will fill Hamas' warehouses for many more months - four or six, depending on who you ask.

▪️US (AID?) FUNDED ISRAEL PROTEST MOVEMENT - (Amit Segal, Ch. 12) The Blue and White Future Association financed the anti-Judicial-reform protest with NIS 120 million shekels, an unprecedented amount in the country's history and an average of NIS 13.5 million shekels per month during the months of the struggle.

More than half of the money came from an American entity (via USAID?) that served as a conduit for transferring donations, and the rest came from Israeli multi-millionaires and billionaires.

The PR and campaign budget for the judicial reform struggle was NIS 56 million shekels and the field budget was NIS 50 million. For comparison - this is equivalent to the election budget of the Likud, National Unity and Yesh Atid combined in the last elections.

The organization in question was founded to work "for the establishment of the State of Palestine" alongside the State of Israel.

( A massive and successful foreign effort to manipulate Israeli society, that made Israel appear weak and available to attack. )

🎗️HAMAS’s DEMANDS MET? According to Hamas's information office, caravans (a small number of units) and heavy equipment were already brought into the Strip yesterday. A senior Israeli official tells me in response to Hamas' claim: Nothing was introduced yesterday and let's be clear: no one is going to blink.

🎗️🎗️CONFLICTING REPORTS continue on whether Israel is pushing President Trump and Prime Minister Netanyahu’s demands for ALL live hostages to be released (and in particular all American hostages), or will accept a return to the 3 per week agreement.

For example: The message sheet that the ministers received from the National Information Service suggests that Israel is not demanding the release of any more hostages at this time: "Israel insists on fulfilling the agreements as they stand." Yet this directly contradicts the Prime Minister’s public statements.

And Al Jazeera says: Negotiations to continue implementing the deal have been successful, an official announcement will be made soon.

Now being reported Islamic Jihad will release Russian-Israeli Alexander Tropanov tomorrow - though that is not (yet) from an official source.

🌎WORLD NEWS OF NOTE.. UKRAINE announces that a Russian fired Iranian built drone HIT THE CHERNOBYL NUCLEAR DISASTER CONTAINMENT DOME. At the moment no reports in any change in radiation levels at the site.

✡️Erev (before) Shabbat - Parshat Yitro - Exodus 18:1 - Moses’ father-in-law, Jethro, hears of the great miracles which G‑d performed for the people of Israel, and comes from Midian to the Israelite camp, bringing with him Moses’ wife and two sons. Jethro advises Moses to appoint a hierarchy of magistrates and judges to assist him in the task of governing and administering justice to the people.

The children of Israel camp opposite Mount Sinai, where they are told that G‑d has chosen them to be His “kingdom of priests” and “holy nation.” The people respond by proclaiming, “All that G‑d has spoken, we shall do.”

#Israel #October 7 #Hamas Massacre #Israel/HamasWar #Gaza #Palestinians #Realtime Israel #🎗️

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