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mo0nfairy · 2 months ago

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ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ BLOMSTERTID, PART ONE !

summary :: Centuries-old mage, Y/N L/N, possesses magical abilities unheard of. A few citizens monopolize the remnants of magic they find, of which they now title “Hextech”. Hearsay of this power bleeds through all of Runeterra, until Piltover and Zaun find themselves in an anarchic war to obtain said power. Before Y/N can even blink, however, the humans neglect their plans when they realize they’d rather have Y/N instead.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 4.3k

content warnings :: NO SPOILERS! g/n reader, harassment, death, parental abuse/neglect, animal neglect/cruelty, & elements of sexism.

⋆ ｡ ˚ ⋆ ⸺ The sun feels blistering as it blankets you in its sweltering embrace. Body sheen with sweat, you halt your early-afternoon endeavors and begin the lengthy journey home. The flowers you’ve spent the past several hours plucking now rest in your wicker basket. It will be the perfect apology for your parents, you surmise. After all, you are miles away from being the exemplary model-child they swore they raised you to be.

You take a moment to admire the Shurima empire in all of its glory. Even in the short frame of several decades, the discovery of this continent has managed to flourish so elegantly.

It is rare you are given the opportunity to see the fruits of the founder's labor. Nonetheless, you were not born in the lap of luxury. You were raised in the poor corners of civilization, which is exactly where you return to.

Stepping into the streets of the dank city, you are immediately met with the perfusion of dust and sand. You cough into your elbow from the sudden exposure (the mountain air has evidently spoiled your senses). All you can do is hope you survive the journey back home, and more crucially, the wrath of your parents.

You still have yet to forget the stifling look of enraged disappointment in their eyes from the day before.

A charming suitor, an impossibly rich one at that, gifted you a vase full of flowers native to his home country. You check off the list of physical and verbal cues your parents set out for you: batting your lashes, good posture, and how can you forget, the obnoxiously-flirtatious compliments and the innocent “damsel in distress” etiquette.

So engrossed in the tasks at hand, the vase in your hands then slips from your butter-fingers and shatters against the pavement. A few of the cracked pieces nick the suitors ankles.

He had some particularly colorful words for you. Now, there is certainly no hope of marriage with this man.

A selfish part of you is relieved. Marrying a man twice your age is a page torn straight from your worst nightmares. When you are inevitably faced with the incessant scolding of your parents, however, you find yourself wishing he’d just jam a ring on your finger and call it a day.

Doing anything to make your parents happy is the disposition you have molded your life around. Hence the flowers currently in your possession.

The very picosecond you became an adult, your parents scrambled to find you a spouse. Your mothers insistence on maintaining your “beauty” struck as strange, as you have never viewed yourself or others through an aesthetic lens. Even when a myriad of suitors were kicking your doors in to claim you as theirs, you still don’t understand where she is coming from.

After all, they take one glimpse at your (in your father’s words) eccentric personality and they’re making a dash for the hills.

It didn’t take long for you to understand that their proclamations of “ensuring a delightful life with me as my respected spouse” meant forging you into their submissive, braindead pet. So, in a petty, rebellious manner, you do not hinder the vibrance of your personality. Of course, you are acutely aware of how this behavior will never earn you a spouse. No man or woman would want something as unconventional as you, that has been made abundantly clear.

Because of this, you have resorted to pursuing other forms of validation from your parents.

Every ache that pulsates through your fingertips reminds of your utmost passion. Playing the harp has tended to your needs the way no suitor ever has.

You managed to snag the instrument when an indecisive elite tossed it out after a single attempt at learning how to play. It has now made a home in your bedroom, hidden behind the panel of the unfinished wall. When the weight of the world becomes too heavy (and when your parents have left the premises), you indulge in the peace the music provides. Every flick of your calloused fingers against the thick strings provides a solace you cradle close.

With this passion follows hope, as well. You’re positive that with enough effort, you can convince your parents to let you pursue the art of music instead of marriage. Soon, you’ll flaunt your polished skills with the harp and earn the approval of your parents. That is most imperative now.

Something furry then brushes against your leg. A familiar purr rustles against your skin. When you look down, you are not surprised to find a Poro.

It is common for the rich to own them as pets, but of course, you get the few bunch who grow tired of the animals and chuck them out like trash. A few find their way to the poor side of civilization, where the critters are now lethargic and emaciated from the abandonment of their caregiver.

The Poro's black, bulbous eyes peer at you in hesitation, before he flings his tiny body into the dark alleyway just ahead. You coo at the creature in an attempt at beckoning him back out from his hiding place. A fresh idea in mind, you dig a hand into your satchel and fish out the lunch you had forgotten to eat. It is mere scraps at most, but you have an inkling the little guy will be desperate for any form of nourishment.

Soon enough, you spot an eye peeking out from behind an empty wooden crate. When his gaze lands on the torn piece of bread in your hand, he takes a few cautious steps forward. Freezing periodically, anticipating your next move, the Poro soon makes it to your palm. His wide, slobbering tongue slithers around the small chunk of bread, before gathering it into his mouth.

Just as you reach your hand to pet the feathery tufts of fur atop his head, a door behind you bursts open. A burly man appears in the threshold, a tower of several more empty crates balanced in his fat arms. When the man's gaze meets yours, his expression drops into one of irritation.

“Goddamn L/N…”

He chucks the crates into a pile of many others, the collision loud and tumultuous. The Poro shrieks and scurries off into the distance.

“Thought I told you to stop feeding the strays. Fur-balls always come back for seconds.”

Animals have always struck a soft spot for you, more-so than others evidently deem admirable. You still remember the red-raged lecture you received from your father when you saved a suitor from a sly snake, before cooing at the slithering friend in your grasp and presenting it to the woman.

In your father’s eyes, this was apparently inappropriate of you. What would other suitors think, after all? That you’d bring wretched creatures like that into their mansions? The answer is obviously yes, but you’re better off without more incessant scolding from him.

You shove the remaining clumps of food back into your satchel as though the incriminating evidence would vanish once stashed away. As you do so, a prideful smile creeps onto the mans face, enlarged cheeks stretching wide.

“Finally meet someone stupid enough to set the date?” He asks, gesturing to your hand.

When you follow his gaze, you see the ring you crafted yourself, realizing he had mistaken its origins.

You have a tendency to sneak off into the rich side of Shurima and “borrow” a trinket or two. The ring you snagged happened to be an engagement ring a forgetful fiancé left by a bathroom sink. The intricacies and glittering shimmer were too stunning for you to ignore. So, the poor woman had to return home empty-handed that night.

“Never thought I’d see the day.” A mocking chortle exhales from the man's chapped lips.

“Poor bastard.” Another man chuckles.

The two clearly find the prospect of you marrying to be hilarious. You don’t have it in you to tell them the truth, knowing they’ll surely find a way to twist your words to fuel their amusement. The ring is not even on your ring finger, to begin with. Rather, your index finger.

You pretend to ignore the sounds of their wheezing laughter and hasten forward, desperate to escape their cruel words.

Unfortunately, these heavy words did not end with random pedestrians in the streets.

The very moment you enter your home, the anger of your father is almost palpable. It is uncomfortable and distressing, but foreseeable. With your track record, there is always something you’ve done to provoke his irritation. And the sight of you soiled with dirt and sweat leads him to wonder why he ever considered having a child in the first place.

“I… I figured we could give a bouquet to the suitor and his mother as an apology.” You present the flowers to him. “Perhaps not in a ceramic vase, this time.”

You accentuate your idea with a dry attempt at humor, despite knowing how aloof your father is. As expected, his expression remains stern. You can’t recall a time you have ever seen him smile, for that matter.

“Y/N…” He buries his face into his hands. “We’ve spoken about this…”

Ah, yes, how could you have forgotten?

Another lecture of millions instilled into your brain about how suitors only like someone who spends their time with meaningful tasks. These tasks include slaving the hours away cooking and cleaning, as well as raising enough children to fill a wagon. The mere thought of being prisoner to such responsibilities sends a wet shiver through your blood.

“Well…” You scoff. “You act as though any suitors still remain in town. What do you wish for me to do? Swim after their ship and grovel at their-?”

His fist slams into the surface of the table. The force causes you to flinch; you would not be surprised if a hole was forged from the impact. His ugly face twists into a scowl as he points an accusatory finger at you — another sight you know all too well.

“They have all left with no hope of marriage! Even with our offers of dowry, no man nor woman would ever want to waste a second more with you!”

He speaks nothing of the truth, but still, it pierces sharp.

“Day after day, your mother and I work tirelessly to ensure your future and you do nothing to express any gratitude!”

Speaking of the devil, your mother then enters the premises, startled from the sudden noise of her husband's anger. And like clockwork, her expression descends into one of disappointment at the sight of you.

“Dear Lord, what have you gotten yourself into now?” She stomps over and begins fussing over the stains of dirt and grass smeared into your clothes. “You are surely something arcane, child.”

You attempt to explain your intentions, but any hope of obtaining their approval falls on deaf ears. You should have known from the start they would not roll over so easily. Still, you keep crawling back to sit at their feet. Like a beaten dog desperate for a loving hand.

Your mother proceeds to force you through another tangent about the horrid state of your appearance. How your poor diet is clearly showing through your choice of clothing, how the sun will ruin your already hideous skin — another lecture of millions detailing everything you are doing wrong in your life.

“Beauty is not eternal, Y/N. You do not have much time before your attitude begins reflecting in your appearance.”

Her words may sting had that not been the plan in the first place.

What your parents fail to realize is that you are intending on allowing your “beauty” to decline. In the end, you’ll just be another atrocious, old bat who will never hear about the prospect of marriage again. Therefore, your parents will have no option but to support your dreams of music. Maybe then, they’ll finally learn to love you as you are.

“We cannot survive another season without marriage.” You hear your father mutter as he turns to face your mother. “Will you inform them or shall I?”

Your attention is now fully piqued, expressed through the furrowed brows and curious pout plastered on your face. Something that will provoke wrinkles, your mother always remarks.

Brutally, they enlighten you on how they intend on fixing your rebellious attitude.

In the dawn of the following week, you’ll board a ship with other troubled youth and sail across the sea. When you arrive on uncharted lands, you’ll be handed over to a man old enough to be your grandfather. Here, he will “train” you into becoming a better spouse for future suitors. Once you prove yourself to him, only then may you come back home. Set to be married the very second you return.

Nausea stirs in your stomach as the weight of the situation settles at your feet. You’ve been receded to that of an object; a ticket to obtain the fortune your parents so desperately crave.

“Is that truly your intention? Sell me off like livestock while you both lay here comfortably!?”

“I assure you, my child, this is for your own good-!”

With forced sympathy, your mother attempts to console you. You tear her cold, neglectful hands from your shoulder and glare at your parents, glossy eyes overwhelmed with anger. They do not respond further; they have said all they have needed to say.

Like a fussy toddler, you slam your basket onto the cement. The wicker weavings are now awkward and awry. With another scolding bridging on their tongues, you then stomp out of the house and slam the door in your departure.

The calluses in your feet pulse with every loose twig and pine cone you step upon. You neglect the unforgiving city and devote your journey to the forest, traveling as far as your body can take you. Past the spreading moss, the sky-high pines, the simmering fog; farther than you have ever ventured before. Anything to escape what remains at home. Why on earth would you want to return, anyway? To receive yet another lecture about your maturity? To inevitably be handed off to a stranger like chopped liver?

You’d rather starve beneath a canopy of branches before you ever board that damned ship.

Time passes unbeknownst to you as you explore further. When the sun begins its descent into the sky, only then do you realize how far you have traveled. At this point, you have become lost in the maze of trees. Finding your way out is a fool’s errand now, but in this moment, you almost find that as a blessing.

Fortunately for you and your weak self, you find a river stream and can practically feel your legs sigh with relief. The frigid temperatures are almost equivalent to that of a warm blanket, soothing your muscles of the incessant labor you’ve forced upon them. The water swooshes and sways against your feet, following the drifting stream.

When you spot a foreign cave nestled beneath the hill’s ledge, overwhelmed with ivy and greenery, your curiosity is snatched like a feeble mouse in the claws of a hawk. The entrance is illuminated by the rays of the setting sun, almost as though the universe wished for you to stumble upon this sight. The rest of the area is drowned in a vast darkness. Something inside of you wants to explore further, despite the dangers you are positive lurk within.

To test the waters, you grasp a loose stone and toss it into the dark depths. You expect a gentle thud to help you judge the distance inside. Instead, the wall within crumbles from your intrusion and the avalanche sends a surge of rocks and dirt your way.

Before you can question where you’ve obtained this sudden strength, an odd light sprouts from the darkness. The light is opalescent and dances in hues of violet and blue, almost swaying through the air like oil spilled into clear water. A tender frequency churns when the thundering destruction dies down. The sound shivers, but maintains an almost heavenly disposition.

Sparkling in the corner of your eye, your gaze shifts down to your feet. There, you find that same light appearing like an ink splotch beneath where you stand. It increases in brightness, before fading away like a snuffed candle. Then, the light glistens again a few inches ahead of you, before dying out the same way. This process continues onwards, pressing footsteps into the jagged stone and leading to the destruction you caused.

It’s as though something was beckoning you to step forward, yanking the strings of your curiosity like a child with a toy.

Now rendered silent (and any lasting rage eased), you tread further into the cave and follow the scintillating light. Peering a suspicious eye around the corner, you find the very last thing you expected.

A crater had been carved out by some form of impact. Surrounding the crater are glimmering crystals, now jutting out of the cave walls. In the middle is a hunk of rock, blistering in even more intensive hues of blue and purple. It pulsates, as though it were alive — its heart hammering just like yours.

For a reason you cannot explain, every cell in your body is alive with a strange, fiery exhilaration. The bliss encompasses your head, before spreading down to your toes, threading with every vein you possess. There is an underlying fear tickling the goosebumps across your skin, but the euphoria perceives it as delicious adrenaline.

Simultaneously, your entire body is oddly tranquil. Like you’ve been submerged in thick honey, blanketing your muscles in complacent ease.

It is an intoxicating oxymoron. So much so, you find yourself stepping closer to the ethereal boulder. When you are a mere feather touch away, your vision swims with delirium. It sways side to side in a sea of nauseous excitement.

Lifting a finger, you creep your hand closer to the boulder. A mere nudge of your fingertip against the rock and a blinding light floods the cave.

The magical, colorful aura is snatched away when a sudden force bludgeons through the expanse. Without a mere second to spare, you no longer feel the ground beneath your feet. Your body is thrust against the cave wall. Rock matter plunges straight into your skull.

And just like the closing curtains you’ve always dreamt of being behind, everything cuts to black. You’re now lost in a dark void. No thundering applause or flower bouquets to welcome you.

When you gain consciousness, you are overwhelmed with suffocating darkness.

Chunks of dirt flood your mouth, your eyes, your throat, and ensnare around your entire body. You struggle to no avail, with all of your limbs restrained beneath the weight forcing you down. Your heart thrashes like the bashing of a war drum. Oxygen abandons you and leaves your lungs burning with need.

The fear enveloping your bones intensifies with its bitter touch. It intensifies and hastens until your body cannot withstand the force of it all.

Another explosion pervades with a thundering force. Only this time, you are not met with harm. Instead, a light invades your vision.

Adjusting to the harsh intrusion of sunlight, you soon catch the sight of that familiar blue and violet light. They scatter in flickering specks through the air, like curious fireflies drifting through the Summer wind. As your eyes adjust to the new environment, you find yourself buried in a grave, of some sort.

Climbing your weak body out of the hole, your brain is infested with mountains of questions. Was that just a dream? How did that even happen? How did you end up here of all places?

Are you dead?

And, of course, that unhealed part of you wonders where your mother and father are and why you cannot cling to their comfort.

“Mama…” You whimper, not recognizing the voice crawling from your throat.

You feel like a fresh fawn on legs when you bring your weight to your wobbly knees. Stumbling through the newfoundland, it does not take long before your body fails you and you collapse at the edge of a river. Your attempts at catching your breath are halted to a stunned silence when you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the water.

The person you stare upon has been replaced by something different. Splotches of saturated colors splatter your skin, contrasting in varying sizes and hues. Most of which are the same purple and blue that have made a stark appearance time and time again. Your pupils, swimming in those same blistering-bright hues, have enlarged drastically. Your teeth are now crooked and bent as they jut in violent directions inside your mouth.

Trailing your gaze further, you find chunks of flesh missing from your body, which have now healed over rugged, rough, and raw. In the sun, incomprehensible gibberish glitters across your exposed flesh. Almost like some form of ancient rune. Sparkling when a certain patch of light hits it right.

Something undead — that is your conclusion. You have died and been revived as a monster, that must be what has occurred. You peer over your shoulder to the grave you were buried in to confirm this suspicion. As you do so, something captures your attention.

In the sand, a footprint stands out to you as explicitly familiar. You’d recognize the pattern of that shoe anywhere after the multiple occasions you spent sweeping the debris in your home.

Your father was here. Likely your mother, too.

The city must have heard the explosion from miles away, crowding to the source to identify the cause. In the debris, your parents had found you. Dead. In a sloppy attempt at concealing the truth of your disappearance, they had dug an impromptu grave and tossed the lifeless body of their only child within. No gravestone, no flowers, no proper burial. Absolutely nothing.

All for your name to be forgotten about and to never see the light of day again.

You cannot piece together where exactly everything went wrong, what heinous actions you pulled in the past to deserve such cruelty. For all the years of your fleeting life, you’ve been balancing on the tightrope of perfection. Every inch of you has been scrutinized like a passionate scientist. No matter what step you took, you were always too much in one area, while not enough in another.

Now, you are overwhelmed with the revelation that it was all for nothing.

It never earned you a spouse, it never earned you the status of a harp player, and most imperatively, it never earned you the love of your parents.

Betrayal squeezes the weight in your chest, snagging out rib-burning cries from your body. Globs of snot and tears embellish your deformed face. Standing to your feet, you can almost swear you heard a… Harp? The melodies swarm around you, like a lulling cloud of tranquility.

In your attempts to step forward and locate the source of the sound, the sudden sound of squelching twists beneath your feet.

When you glance to the ground, you find a flower blossoming just behind your ankle. It glistens with glitter, woven around the blue stems and fading into purple petals. When you take another step, the same occurrence happens. Another flower, just the same as the other, blossoms at the edge of your foot.

Your rendition of horticulture is weak, but you have never seen a flower quite like that before. Even when the richest suitors presented their collection of bouquets from all around the world, not a single flower shared a speck of familiarity with this new discovery.

The sounds of harp still hold your attention, but despite your efforts to locate the music, all you find surrounding you are fields of nature, accompanied by these strange flowers you’ve somehow conjured out of the dry soil. It was almost like the sounds of harp were reverberating from you; as though the strings resided in your chest.

Step after step, flowers continue to blossom and harp strings echo in celestial tunes. You do not know where you intend to go, but you now know that all you have centered your life around has proven to be immaterial.

The only thing you have now is yourself.

You dare to think that is all you need to survive.

To this day, this revelation proves to be correct. It manifests into everyday life where you have remained on the grounds of the Shimura Empire.

Thousands of years have now passed. The powers that cave had gifted you have now been utilized to your greatest ability. Your parents are long dead, your suitors found better spouses to continue their bloodline, and your precious harp is now a mere gust of wind. You’ve watched civilizations crumble and rebuild themselves to fruition, all while you maintain the same powerful, immortal body.

Who would have guessed that an “eccentric” personality like yours would lead you to where you are today?

Another year of thousands has reached its middle point. 2021 has begun like any other, but has suffered an abrupt shift when a few citizens tread a bit too close for your liking. It is merely a fragment of power they find. “Hextech,” they call it. With enough intricate studies and prosperous experiments, however, you fear it is only a matter of time before these scientists yank you from the comfortable shadows.

When hearsay bleeds through Runeterra of your powers being capitalized for violence, you know you have no choice but to stop them.

No matter what it takes.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

❝ THE RAYS OF THE SUN

APPROACH AND ALL IS REBORN . . . ❞

gif creds.

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cadere-art · 2 months ago

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The greater owlcat is the largest member of the owlcat family and one of the largest land predators in Uanlikri and can weight up to one tonne. Greater owlcats used to range the whole continent, but their northern range has been considerably reduced due to persecution by antioles and several northern subspecies have become extinct or nearly so. The situation is entirely different in the South, where it remains a potent and common predator.

Across history, the greater owlcat has been a potent cultural symbol throughout its whole range. It is oftentimes associated with the Moon due to its white facial disk and nocturnal habits which bring into into natural association with the full moon that marks midnight.

The greater owlcat is especially important to the Am-Wiek peoples of the Kantishian Mountains. Their consider the Owlcat a powerful and dangerous lunar spirit. Am-Wiek legends tell the tale of how the First Hunter killed the Owlcat's mate for his pelt, and how the Owlcat, striken with grief and mad with vengeance, hunted the First Hunter through the land until she came to his camp at night, killed him, and skinned him. She's worn his skin ever since in a show of her might and wrath, and because of this all of her children are marked with the black shadow of the First Hunter's skin on their backs.

#worldbuilding #art by me #antiole world #uanlikri #owlcat #greater owlcat #fauna #theropod #speculative biology #speculative evolution #am-wiek

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azsazz · 8 months ago

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Eris x Rhysands!Sister Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Literally in love with every fic you write. I know your requests are closed but in the future, could you write something where Eris and the reader see each other and there’s a lot of tension and they’re secretly mates but no one knows? I’m curious to see how you’d end it!

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1,217

Notes: Love this tbh!!!

_________________________________________

You feel him before you see him.

You can feel him all the time; even when he’s courts away there’s that connection humming blissfully in your chest. It’s comforting, to know that your mate is alive and well, that there’s a surety you’re aware of him and how he’s feeling. When he’s content in a warm bath with a glass of fae wine smoothing the creases between his brows. When he’s squaring his shoulders and surging with pride for the sparring with his brothers he has won again. When he sends a warmth so suggestive down the bond late at night when he’s sure there’s no one around. The very one you feel deep in your soul, that makes your core melt like his fire-filled hands are working your center. The one that leaves no questions whether he loves you or not.

Of course, there are times when you can’t feel him. When he’s blocked the bond from ever reaching you when his father brings his wrath down on him like he’s young and defenseless again. He always hides that from you. When the distance from you becomes too great and there is no choice for him but to block the bond because he knows that there is nothing that can be done in the current state of Pythian. No way for the both of you to be together, no way for him to seize you from the control of your older brother. If you were lesser than the High Lord’s younger sister, he’d sneak across the border lines on a whisper of autumn winds and find his way into your bed.

It’s been ages since you’ve seen your mate, since you looked into those warm russet eyes, ran your fingers through his auburn hair, counted the freckles dotting the pale skin of his cheeks.

Your breath catches in your throat as Eris is escorted into Rhysand’s office and your eyes meet.

A sense of relief floods the bond as his eyes move over you in an intentional sweep that to everyone else in the room looks like he’s wondering why you’re here, but you know your mate is assessing you for injuries even though you’re nowhere near injured. Not even a scratch or a bruise on your perfect skin.

No one notices the slight falter in his steps. All Eris wants to do is rush over to you and sweep you in his arms and press you into his chest, feel your heartbeat against his own. He wants to taste that smile you’re trying all too hard to hide from him, move his mouth across the color dusting your cheeks to feel his fire dancing underneath your skin. He wants to strip you bare, devour every inch of you. He wants to hear you scream his name, whisper that you love him, cry for him to take you away, admit that you never want to be apart—

But he’s not even allowed to sit next to you.

Across the large table is as close as he allows himself to get. It’s not close enough that he can accidentally kick his foot against yours and he doesn’t like that you’ve been meticulously placed on the opposite side so he can’t even walk past you and brush his fingers against your hand or the back of your neck.

His bond keens in his chest and he tries his best to stifle it, ripping his gaze away when he’s drawn to you like this.

Eris is flanked by Cassian and Azriel, and even though he feels as if he’s on the best terms he’s ever been with the Night Court, this feels like a set up. A trap.

You allow a caress of reassurance down the bond to your mate. Your brother doesn’t know, no one in this room, in this court, in this continent knows of your connection to the heir of Autumn. Eris’ throat works as he swallows, and you turn your attention away from him as he sends a feeling of understanding back to you.

“Eris.” Rhysand gestures to the autumn born royal to sit. He’s lounging in his own chair at the circular table, an arrogance to him that irks you. It’s all a front, of course, one Rhysand has carefully crafted to perfection from centuries as High Lord. You don’t like that it’s directed at your mate, and you’re feeling more protective than ever, flickering a glance over to the males sitting on either side of your mate, as if they’re caging him in.

Not unusual for an untrusted male in your court. You’ve seen your brother pull this same maneuver more times than you can count, but there’s a charge to the air that feels different. Your spine lengthens and you flare a warning down the bond, praying your mate doesn’t react but readies himself.

He follows your heed with unfaltering trust. Eris’ fingers flex where they’re resting on the arms of his chair, and you watch him unhinge his jaw only slightly, so that he doesn’t flex it. The scalding look on his face stays directed at your brother.

Your lips part and the muscles of your legs tense, ready to jump out of your chair in the next moment, when you catch Rhysand’s smirk, the one that spells trouble. His violet eyes are dark with the promise of violence and his shadows are quick to strike, tendrils of nightmares winding their way around Eris’ wrists, trapping him to the very chair he was offered.

Eris shifts his hands in a nonchalant motion, testing out the strength of the sentient darkness Rhysand uses to hold him hostage. They don’t give an inch and he wonders for a fleeting moment if he can burn them away. If your worry wasn’t heavy in his chest, the beat of your heart spiking double, he would try it. But with you here, he’s not willing to try anything that could potentially put you in danger.

Plus, a part of him wants to hear what Rhysand has to say. The other part of him wants to get you the fuck out of here.

The High Lord of the Night Court plants his hands on the table. High Lord, because there is no ounce of your brother in his eyes and actions right now.

The chair scraping against the floor as Rhysand stands is the only sound in the room. Cassian nor Azriel moves from their seats, but they pin your mate with the menacing kind of looks that mirror Rhysands, ready to follow his every demand, no questions asked.

“Eris,” Rhysand’s voice is not its usual purr as he leans forward. A strand of hair falling across his forehead is the only sign of the crack in his facade, the utter rage filling the room with an unbearable tautness.

The words are sticky in your throat. You can’t move, can’t seem to take your eyes off of your brother as your heart splinters in your chest like it’s his own shadows tearing you to strips. You’re only able to manage a quiet, “Don’t,” that’s filled with too much desperation.

Rhysand ignores your words. He hisses at Eris, dark and low. “How long have you and my sister been keeping this little mating bond of yours a secret?”

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris angst #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar

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chaedomi · 1 year ago

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𝐉𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀 ✦ wmmap

fem!child!reader x athanasia + claude de alger obelia (platonic!yan), violence, death, suicide, unhealthy relationships; to them you were a jewel, precious and highly valuable. they, in turn, will express their strong emotions toward you, even if it means resorting to… more hostile methods. ꨄ — masterlist

IN THE novel, Lovely Princess, the story went like this. True to its title, the book contained Lovely Princesses. There was The First Princess, akin to the moon, who held a gloomy and foggy disposition. Then came The Second Princess, resembling the sun, bright and cheery. And finally, The Third Princess, similar to the stars, was reserved but gentle and a source of comfort.

You were… The First Princess’s younger half-sister. Although your mother was unknown (you were found inside a basket in the gardens crying) those jeweled eyes and your uncanny appearance close to The Emperor were solid proof that you were in fact of royal blood. It was… certainly strange to learn that the book entailed you as an 'unimportant' character. While The Second Princess was adored by the whole continent, the love the people harbored for you, The Third Princess, could put The Second Princess to shame. They treated you as though you were some supreme gift bestowed from the heavens, to be treasured and pampered. And among those who glorified you… was your father, The Cold-Hearted Emperor. You were like The Protagonist more than The Second Princess could ever be.

You were also… the best sister anyone could ask for to The First Princess. Because The First Princess was deprived of affection in her life, she mostly relied on you to fill the gaps in her heart. And you endearingly did so, trying your best to shine a light inside her darkness. It soon became that you both were inseparable, attached by the hip.

…So, obviously, you will spiral down into despair over The First Princess's death. You knew The First Princess was innocent of The Second Princess's poisoning. She was simply too sweet to commit a vile act, especially when she too took a liking to The Second Princess. But, alas, your reasoning went through one ear and out the other, and without proper evidence, your father executed The First Princess.

However, just as The Emperor's wrath was not to be underestimated, so was the extent of your grief as you promptly took away your life hours after The First Princess's execution. And that was the sad ending of your story, The Third Princess.

HOW WAS THAT ANY FAIR??? The confusion of the roles and the cheesy plotline were already bad enough on their own, but your unnecessary death pretty much destroyed the chances of her leaving a positive review. Was it done to reestablish the fact you were an unimportant character, or to remind everyone that The Second Princess is the original best girl in the story…? No amount of copious explanations can ever make ATHANASIA understand the validation for your death.

What she can come to understand however is that you, out of all people, did NOT deserve to die. You had all the rights to receive a happy ending just like The Second Princess… and that is what she aspired to make a reality as she was tossed into the fantasy world of the novel. It was obvious that it all went to hell when The First Princess was executed at the hands of The Emperor. So, in order to avoid your death, she will have to avoid hers first.

A genius plan, she dubbed it, stealing various riches from the Ruby Palace to live the rest of her life on as she escapes. She also thought of the brilliant idea of taking you along with her, after all, being inside the palace is kind of… the reason for your death, was it not!? Why not avoid the source altogether!? Or… that is what was supposed to happen before she accidentally stumbled across The Emperor four years early. Now, she will have to scrap that genius plan. Damn…

On a bright note, as time passed, using an alternative plan, Athanasia eventually evaded all chances of earning death at the hands of her father. This means that you too won’t have a pitiful ending as you originally did! Yay!

You truly didn’t deserve to die, and Athanasia will keep on saying it as much as needed. The years she spent beside you as your sister, further strengthened her motivation to keep you alive. She also understood why The First Princess had a strong attachment toward you. Innocent, Pure, Patient, Merciful, and Kind… who wouldn’t swoon over a person with such admirable traits? What struck her heart the way it did, was your affection. In her previous life, Athanasia… didn’t have people around her to provide her with love.

So, it surprised her a lot when it happened. Sure, she had love from her Nanny and the rest of the maids, but yours had her heart pumping, energy rushing through her veins. It was warm… a feeling she wanted to cling to for an eternity. Was it silly that she felt envious of a fictional character? To think that The First Princess was subjected to this kind of treatment from you… How did it feel to live her dream? Not that it matters anymore. Now, she can have you to all herself! You wouldn’t mind if she got a little… greedy, right? Of course, you won’t! After all, if you learned of her tremendous effort to keep you safe, why wouldn’t you reward her with more of your presence? What she does is in your favor. So, don’t get too upset if what she does seems a bit extreme, alright? It’s all for your benefit.

Betrayal can hurt. But, betrayal stings when it comes from the person you trusted and loved the most. You didn’t understand why it had upset her more than it upsetted you. More so, if she was so against the idea, why hadn’t she said so first? She was supportive about it too, choosing to help pick out a perfect disguise for your outing in the town. So why was it that on the day you were about to leave, lo and behold, there was your father by your doorway, inclusive of his knight… and your sister beside him, smiling triumphantly? Maybe if you had paid attention to how the shine left your sister’s eyes as you told her of your plan, you could have avoided such a dreadful punishment.

What bugged you the most was how Athanasia carried out her day normally, and acted sweetly to you, as if she didn’t partially contribute to the punishment of breaking your legs. Today was no different, as she sat on the chair beside your bed rambling on about her day. “You know, that’s the most I’ve seen Daddy upset.” She laughed, tracing her finger down your legs. “Usually, he would never dream of even hurting a strand of your hair. What you’ve done was really bad…”

She smiled at you, her jeweled eyes looking all the more terrifying under the dark lighting in your room. “I don’t understand. I should feel despaired seeing my sister in so much pain. Why does it bring me so much relief?” She sighed, holding one of your hands in hers. “...You scared me terribly with what you told me earlier. My mind couldn’t stop focusing on the many possibilities that would arise with you out there. Even worse, what if they learned of your true identity, and an enemy nearby attacks you?”

“I agreed with your plan, solely to avoid trouble. If I said no, you would have avoided me, right? I… don’t ever want to see you in danger, or place you in it, knowing I could have done something to prevent it. Not like anything like that will happen anytime soon!” She gently poked your injured legs. “I will help ensure that too.” You didn’t realize that the tears building in your eyes began to fall, your sister’s fingers quickly working to wipe them away.

In the novel, CLAUDE naturally favored you more than The First Princess. Upon your first encounter during the festival on The First Princess’s ninth birthday, with an outstretched hand, he escorted you back to the party, leaving your older sister in the dust. You lived a rather lavish life after that, him spoiling you with exquisite goods. So, it’s not like you had to form some extreme plan like Athanasia to protect yourself from the dangers that lurked inside the palace. Everyone here adored you…

Yet, not only did Athanasia’s interference with the plotline create many changes for her, but it also resulted in triggering unsettling events for you. Now that The Cold-Hearted Emperor has learned to display affection for the firstborn he originally detested, where would that place you, the daughter he always loved?

…His methods were very much frightening, even traumatizing, you may add. The numerous times you witnessed something gruesome to the eye, for the littlest offenses toward you. He would imprison, he would murder, he would execute, all in your name. His presence too, was very much suffocating, more than Athanasia, and that spoke volumes.

You hated how they both attached themselves to you, but, if you had to choose, you would pick Athanasia in a heartbeat. For the cold jeweled eyes that scrutinized every movement you made were too much for your poor heart to endure. It was as though he was waiting, waiting for your slip-up, to gain a perfect reason to permanently confine you behind the walls of your bedroom. And you fear… that the day you kissed your freedom goodbye was approaching quicker than you initially anticipated.

“What will it take for you to treat me as normally as the rest?” the (h.c) haired girl wept, clutching on tightly her father’s robes. “Shall I become like my sister, Athanasia? If I do… will I become like a free bird, and be granted more privileges?” grief-stricken jeweled eyes peered up at her father. “Will you finally release me from the shackles you trapped me in?”

“Do what you want,” her father smirked. but, as quickly as her hope came so was it shattered. the piercing concept. his voice in her ears was the cruelest of them all. “Such a thing won’t happen till the day I perish.” what a terrible vow. she knew he would do anything in his power to maintain his promise. and so, the deepest of despair like never before flooded her eyes. what have you done to receive this…?

you were very precious. nothing, not even the rarest pieces in the world could be compared to you; you were the highest value among them all. for all, it was a high requirement to treat you with the utmost importance and respect. yes, to them, to everyone, you were, the jewel of obelia.

©chaedomi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of the works published.

#🥛━ 𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐄 #who made me a princess #wmmap #wmmap x reader #manhwa x reader #manhwa x you #yandere manhwa x reader #yandere x reader #platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #child reader #female reader

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serregon · 1 year ago

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I still find it so insane that Tolkien just. didn’t write the war of wrath. the quenta silmarillion ends with this massive nigh-apocalyptic war that involves gods and kings and it spans like thirty years and it sinks an entire continent. and it’s just a few paragraphs like yep that happened let’s move on

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puddleorganism · 1 month ago

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Ough. She is a (fictional) mythological figure with thousands of different depictions and characterizations between several continents and several millennia. And she’s my blorbo

A bit more lore about our dear God of Consumption here:

In Fireback mythology Consumption is an ancient character present in many different regions, cultures, and time periods. Partially because the Firebacks’ homeworld has little habitable land, so they can only diversify so much - but also because Consumption’s a very important god. There is little more important in Fireback daily life than fire, and being the one responsible for it her stories get passed around the most.

Also, she was born mortal, and had a long and winding path to godhood. There has always been plenty of room within her wandering tale to just make shit up. People just make up short stories about her all the time, and will insert her into other stories as a little cameo just as often. There are a few hallmarks to her story that are widely agreed upon, but because there’s just so much written about her a comprehensive timeline of her journey is kind of impossible to construct.

It’s agreed upon that:

Consumption was born mortal, and born a tricksy little thief.

She got herself into trouble with at least one of the original gods, and as punishment was exiled into the sea.

She spent years at sea having little adventures and getting into trouble (most short stories about her or cameos happen at some point during this time).

She was forced to return home for… some reason. It varies from tale to tale.

She stole the Sun and ate the original gods, leading to her giving the people fire (sometimes intentionally, sometimes not).

She’s also usually credited with acquiring the very first armor (the scales on Firebacks’ backs that give them their names), though when and where that happens varies a lot.

Fun fact, more about Fireback culture than Consumption herself: she’s almost always depicted with her magic fire and exclusively referred to as ��Consumption” or the “God of Consumption” - regardless of if the story is set before or after her actual ascension to godhood. This is because it’s seen as a sign of disrespect to depict her as any lesser than she is, and - depending on the region/time’s beliefs - ranges from a way to invite her wrath, to just not properly invoking her name (which means you won’t earn her favor).

In modern times most Firebacks don’t actually believe in her as a literal presence, and so they refer to her much more casually. It’s still incredibly rare for her to be given a mortal name or depicted without SOME allusions to fire, it’s just not really taboo anymore.

#art #described #original character #oeh #off the edge of the horizon #consumption #speculative biology #spec bio #firebacks

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secretagentsociety · 2 years ago

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yandere monster x willing reader

warning : yandere and monster put together isn't rlly a safe space per say,so um continue with cautious

Sumary : the village people believed that the monster is out to destroy them if they didn't sacrifice a young virgin and you being at a marriageable and is still unwedded have become the sacrifice,oh but by the end of it you got yourself an all powerful monster boyfriend that bend at your every will (in Sumary he's a simp)

Imagine

It was a nice and sunny day,normally everyone in the village would love this type of days but the barren market place and untilled farms said otherwise,why is everything being abandoned? Well because people were scared of 'the monster'

rumours starts circulating the entire town,it got so big even the king had sent official trained knights to 'protect' the village,when in actuality he just want to capture and exploit the monster

But nothing worked,this morning a villager was found dead along with huge clawmarks near the trees where he's found,scared the people starts going to the church believing it is some sort of demon

The church then adviced to 'sacrifice a virgin blood' they didn't say to sacrifice anyone's life,fk they didn't even say that it HAD to be human,but alas your village is stupid and is superstitious and so it brings us here

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• At first he was curious as to why the humans we're abandoning another human,but he'd travel across the continent enough to know you must've been some sort of thief being punished,but he couldn't help but inspect closer

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• with your eyes closed shut you didn't realise how close you were to the 'monster' his eyes stared directly at your fluttering eyelash as you tried your best to keep your eyes close,he found your trembling lips cute very kissable,and so that's what he did,he is a creature of instinct,and when he did something clicked.

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•now you can forget ever being released back to those nasty villager ever again,forget your past life forget how you're living before and forget every acquaintance you've ever made,because he's not letting you go,no no no,he can't do that! you're his beloved little mate

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• he gives 10 / 10 cuddles,will hug your protectively and sometime refused to sleep until you're in his arm,he never knew he needed a cuddle buddy but here we are with you stuck in one position because if you were so to TRY to pry him off oh boy I wouldn't do that if I were you

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• very extremely protective,possessive,jealous all the glorious toxic traits of a yandere,this man got it all, it's like Pokémon except the thing he catch is how many time you can count him eating a human male/female whatever human that DAREE to even touch you

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• he TOWERS over you,no it doesn't matter how tall you're how many high heels you wore he's taller, he's bigger, and he's better and that's a facts!,no but fr he is a monster even if you're like 6'9 ;) he's still taller by like a whole foot maybe two....

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• If one day he find you gone for whatever reason,the village is the first to feel his wrath,now he's not some weakling who couldn't even protect their own mate,no no no,if he wants to he could cause HAVOC I tell you HAVOC that will effect the future generations to come,he is afterall what his kind considered an elder,wise knowledgeable and is extremely petty

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• for the many years he had lived yes he knows how to communicate with humans and yes he have human form and yes his dck is huge let us move on now

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• now then back to you being gone,if you appeared unharmed congrats to the entire empire they won't be meeting their ruin anytime soon,BUT if you did come back....lets say barely alive,he will kidnap every single 'physicians' there is in the empire,even the royal physician's and if they can't make you feel better then off with their head!,and body and legs he just straight up nom them

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• now the situation got so bad the king had to put out a rolling stating you're not to be disturbed and or made upset for the safety of the people,yes you have become a royalty indirectly

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• now then if you were to ask for a hug he would be DELIGHTED he even shed some happy tears but nevertheless would cuddle immediately,like he drops whatever it is he's doing and cuddle you

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• does he have tails and ears? Yes. Are they soft? Hell yes. Are they sensitive?duh,wink wink nudge nudge ;) . Would is potentially lead to spicy scene if you were to 'accidentally touched' them? Yes 100%

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•now then if you were for some reason decides to run away no one would assist, you're essentially stuck with him,why?because even if you did ask for knights to help they wouldn't, you'd be tied up and safely returned in his arm where you rightfully belong,and with that followed by punishment that I would not be writing out

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• stamina level : dude...hes a monster he can travel from one empire to another in a matter of hour when it usually take months!,he can easily stayed up for WEEKS on end and STILL can run from one empire to another within one hour,what do you think?!

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• but it's fine he don't play rough,unless you ask him too :D

#male yandere #yandere monster #yandere x you #yandere x reader smut #yandere x willing reader #monster fic #monster boyfriend

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aphroditelovesu · 1 year ago

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Yandere husband Maegor the Cruel love letter togirlfriend or wife.

My beloved wife,

Not even the sun that lights up the Seven Kingdoms can rival the brightness of your beauty. Every time your eyes meet mine, I feel like the universe itself bends to our passion. As Valyrian steel is forged in a raging fire, our bond is tempered by the blazing flames of fate.

I would burn the heavens and plunge into the pits of hell to ensure your happiness and safety. Please accept this letter as proof of my undying love and unwavering devotion. May our history be written in blood and fire, a testament to a love that is pure and indomitable.

My actions may be seen as cruel by some, but you, my dear wife, know that everything I do is to protect our love and ensure that no one else can claim your heart. The sound of swords echoes in my ears, but the sweetest music is the sound of your laughter.

I promise that as long as I breathe, no harm will ever cross your path. Those who dare to threaten our happiness will face the wrath of a King whose love is as deep as the chasm between continents. You are the queen of my heart, and I am your tireless protector.

May the gods witness our eternal union, and may fear and doubt never find room between us. Together, we will rule all realms, like fire and ice that dance in the darkest night.

With unwavering love,

Maegor Targaryen.

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blazlngblade · 4 months ago

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TRAVELERS 105 - 112

105 - 112's ARTISTS

105 - Sbeve (Twitter) 106 - Iris (Twitter) 107 - @rubybahamut 108 - Iggy Sol (Twitter) 109 - @wickbrstm 110 - Zepler 111 - magic_on_a_whim (Instagram) 112 @linderosse

Full Credit List:

If you are the artists of these Travelers (105-112), you are now welcome to upload them independently!

Feel free to tag me (@blazlngblade) so I can update the Full List with your posted drawings for additional credit!

#octopath traveler #octopath cotc #champions of the continent #octopath traveler 2 #project path action #octopath collab #Octopath Kouren #Octopath Yunnie #Octopath Cardona #Octopath Falco #Lianna Clement #Octopath Jillmeila #Octopath Hasumi #Octopath Wrath

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magicalqueennightmare · 10 months ago

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Little Witch (Pt 2/5)

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

You begin trying to piece memories of what happened to you and Elijah together. Will it be enough to make Klaus believe the two of you did not betray his trust

The day had long since given way to night, letting shadows creep over the buildings and alleyways as you walked the streets of New Orleans. You'd gotten a hotel room but couldn't sit inside the four walls attempting to push against the heavy barrier within your mind blocking you from remembering just what exactly happened between you and Elijah.

You couldn't go back to the compound so you'd been forced to buy a few changes of clothes. Once you'd gotten the room you'd showered three times and threw away all the clothes you'd been wearing. You felt dirty, something had happened. You knew it to your very being that nothing on earth would have driven you and Elijah to hurt the very people that meant the most to you both.

You needed help but was unsure where to turn. Davina was with Kol, she may very well turn you away. Freya was a laughable option even if she'd been on the same continent. It had been years since you felt so damn alone.

You hadn't realized how blindly you'd been wandering until you slammed into a hard chest. Arms caught you before you could fall and only then did you realize it was Marcel. “I haven't seen you in ages without Klaus attached to your hip” he teased with a smile. Maybe Rebekah didn't know yet? Or maybe she'd kept it from him?

You forced a smile onto your face “He's at home with Hope. I was just out doing some shopping” his eyebrows furrowed together in disbelief “Alone? Normally Rebekah or Hayley would be with you” you shrugged “Maybe I'm shopping for them” he seemed to either buy it or chose to let it go. He nodded and squeezed your shoulder closest to him gently “Well do us all a favor and pay a little better attention. I'd hate to see something happen to you beyond the fact that New Orleans may not survive his wrath if something happened to Klaus’ little witch”

You promised him to be more intune with your surroundings before walking away. You took a breath, uncurling that string inside of you that held the spark of your magic just below the surface. You needed to calm down. You let it seep out just enough to make you aware should a threat be nearby but even then it felt heavier than usual. Like it took effort to touch the spark when it should've been as natural as breathing.

Maybe you just needed some sleep? You decided to head back to the hotel.

After a sleepless night you were up early the following day. Another round of showers and you'd changed into fresh clothes. You needed to chase down answers even if you were alone in it.

You were just heading to the door when a knock on it pulled your attention. You slowly walked across to it, as your hand hit the knob you heard Rebekah's voice “Just open the bloody door. We need to talk”

Great, was she simply going to snap your neck to save one brother from daggering the other or worse? You opened the door, feeling every muscle inside of you tense. She let her eyes track over you then shook her head “Calm down and tone down your magic. I'm truly just here to talk”

You stepped back and let her into the room before you closed the door then turned to lean against it “Rebekah you've got to know I love Klaus” she nodded before a smile slipped onto her face “No one knows why exactly but yes the love you have for my brother is clear. I just want to know what happened. Klaus is raging, Hayley won't look at Elijah and he's not exactly being chatty either. I've caught the basics but I'm still confused. You have never been more than friends with Elijah, how the hell did you two wind up in bed with each other?”

You shrugged, feeling yourself deflate “I have no idea. The last thing I remember was the two of us walking out of an antique shop. I'd gotten the owner to track down something for me. The next thing I know I hear Klaus calling my name and it was like his voice broke through a dark wall around me. When it burst Elijah was on top of me looking just as confused as I felt”

That barrier inside your head seemed to double in weight when you once again tried to remember what happened. “Sounds like someone messed with your heads. I mean I'm not well versed in magic but it's almost as if you were compelled but your magic prevents that and Elijah is an original. No one could compel him”

You met her eyes with a small smile “Do you believe me?” She nodded “Of course. I've questioned the why of you loving my brother not the fact of it. If you need help I'm here” you nodded slowly feeling a tiny bit lighter than moments before just to be believed “Do you think Hayley will talk to me?”

She shook her head “No but I could get Elijah to meet me at one of Marcel's places. Neutral ground. The two of you can compare memories and see where that takes you” you felt a flicker of your magic swirl up without you calling it. It slammed violently against that barrier in your head blocking your memories from you. Your magic demanded answers as much as you did. “I can't thank you enough” she waved her hand “Please don't take this personally but me intervening is selfish on my part. I can't stand dealing with Klaus’ tantrum for long”

You walked into the bar Marcel had secured for this meeting and froze when you saw Rebekah sitting at the bar drinking a glass of wine while it appeared the glass in Elijah's hand was barely withstanding the pressure from his fingertips while he stood on her other side.

They both glanced up at your arrival but you noticed how quickly Elijah dropped his gaze. Rebekah plucked another glass from behind the bar and poured it halfway with wine and slid it towards you. You sat next to her and stared down into the glass. After a moment she sighed heavily “I'm moving now to give you two the illusion of privacy to talk”

She stood and walked across the bar to a table. You took a sip of the wine before Elijah spoke your name gently. You turned to look at him as he said “I apologize for whatever happened”

Did he think you blamed him? Whatever occurred you were both victims of it. “I don't blame you, hell I truly don't think either of us was to blame” he tilted his head to signal you to go on with the explanation so you explained how it felt inside your head trying to remember and even told him how sluggish your magic was being. He listened intently then nodded “If what you're thinking is correct what is the reasoning?”

You shrugged “I'm not sure yet but I feel like maybe you were used as a weapon to hurt Klaus. He loves you, no matter what's happened between you two you are his big brother. I was being challenged by a lot of witches for taking the side of your family in the fight when Hayley was pregnant before Klaus invited me to move in. I can protect myself but the original hybrid saying I was his? That sent a message. I thought I'd killed all of my old coven but if someone survived this could be revenge. Rip me away from the man I love, the family that claimed me. The safety of having reinforces to back me up should it come to a fight. I took on the strongest spell they had and I'm still standing. They couldn't take me down as a witch so now they're aiming to take me down as a woman. Make heartbreak heavy on my mind so I don't see it coming”

Elijah was quiet for a moment and you could see him thinking of what you'd said then he nodded “They used me to hurt you, to hurt Niklaus. When you find them you have my word you won't be alone to face them”

You smiled slightly “Thank you Elijah and I hope this doesn't affect our friendship because you mean a lot to me” He finally gave you a small smile “It won't simply because we won't let it. I'll get Rebekah to help me speak to Hayley. Perhaps she'll see logic but as for Niklaus..” you cut him off by saying “I'll talk to him”

You started to stand up but Elijah caught your arm and when he met his eyes once again he gave you a gentle smile before slipping a dagger into your hand. “I know you love him and I want to trust in the love I know he still has for you but he is angry”

“I can't dagger Klaus” you whispered and Rebekah spoke up “The dagger is reversible but if he kills you in a fit of rage to discover later that all of this wasn't yours or Elijah's fault the guilt will never leave him”

The dagger felt heavy where it laid in the inner pocket of your jacket as you walked into the Mikaelson compound. Klaus didn't know you were coming, Rebekah had called him with the pretense that she thought he'd killed a couple wolves and he'd told her he was at home.

You knew this could possibly be a death sentence but something wasn't right. Both yours and Elijah's memories were spotty at best. The last thing sticking out to both of you was walking out of that antique store but hours passed between then and the moment Klaus and Hayley found you two together. What exactly had gone down in that time frame?

You froze the moment you felt him. "Klaus" you turned to see him standing not far from you leaning against the very doorway you'd just crossed through into the sitting room "I told you to not come back here or have you come to ensure I don't kill your lover?" You felt a surge of anger at his words. You loved him as did Elijah, neither of you would've hurt him or Hayley intentionally. "I've come to talk to you Klaus”

He took a step towards you and it took everything for you to not step back. You could sense the anger and betrayal rolling off of him in waves. "About what exactly, love? About how I trusted you despite you being a witch? About how Hayley trusted you? About how our daughter keeps asking for you and neither of us can give her an answer as to where you are? About how it felt to find the woman I love, MY little witch, spread out beneath my brother?”

So many emotions hit you at once. The love you had for the man in front of you, the indignation at knowing someone managed to get in yours and Elijah's head, the worry about if something else had occurred between the two of you, the guilt at knowing you'd hurt Klaus and Hayley and now the added guilt of Hope asking for you and not being able to go to her.

“Yes, if that's what it takes for you to talk to me then by all means yes” you could see the surprise in his eyes at you answering like that even if he'd swallowed the emotion the moment he felt it. He took another step forward causing you to unintentionally take a step back.

A flicker of a smile passed his face “What's wrong love? Scared of me now?” Despite his calm demeanor you could see the anger rolling off him. Betrayal and pain stained his aura as he spoke. “I don't want you to do anything that you'll regret later” he laughed and took another step forward and it wasn't until your back hit the wall that you realized he'd done it on purpose. He wanted you pinned between him and the hard wall.

He braced his palms on either side of your head before leaning down where you could feel the warmth of his breath on your ear. Your mind was working to remind you of the bigger picture at hand but damn your body it was reacting to Klaus’ close proximity. A whimper all but tumbled from your mouth when you left the warm flick of his tongue over your pulse “You're breathing hard and your heart has sped up. What's wrong little witch?”

You swallowed hard trying to find your voice but what he said next reignited that anger in your belly “Or are you wishing I was someone else” you reached down for your magic, using it to aid in the process as you shoved both hands hard against his chest. He backed up but kept a smirk firmly in place. You shook yourself to clear your head, feeling the weight of the dagger against your side.

“I want to talk” he waved a hand “Go ahead then. Tell me how it wasn't what it looked like. How Elijah somehow knew where on your neck you like to be kissed and how you were moaning his name but you somehow say it wasn't leading to you sleeping with him”

You forced the tears down that wanted to spill at his words “We can't remember Klaus. Neither of us have any recollection for about a three hour span. The last memory was us walking out of an antique shop together”

“Such convenient amnesia” he gasped and you had the urge to slap him. You never should've come here without proof. You shook your head “Forget it. You're not wanting to talk rationally or to see logic”

You took a few steps towards the door but the reality of the fact that if you were fighting someone strong enough to get into yours and Elijah's head you may not survive it this time. You paused with your hand on the door then looked back at him. He was frozen where you'd left him but this time he was looking at you at least “Rebekah knows which hotel I'm staying at. When I find who's responsible I'm tearing them apart. If something happens to me… she has a letter for you and one for Hope. Know I love you Niklaus Mikaelson and that I will until I draw my last breath”

When he didn't make a move to come closer you shook your head, feeling tears form in your eyes before walking out.

@snowtargaryen

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