#conversations between a prince and his captain of the guard

[thisantithesis]

“you’re still using your sword?”

“of course i am, i love my sword.”

“that’s so archaic, just use your gun like everybody else. even i don’t use a sword and i’m a guard.”

“but then i wouldn’t look as cool.”

“you’re right, you do look really cool with it.”

“right? especially when i pull it out and go all—”

“are you both quite done? we are trying to get on the ship today, are we not?”

“right, yeah—”

“right, sorry—”

“right…”

“okay, so let’s go.”

[runesandramblings]

Violent Delights

Word Count: 6200

Pairings: Kili x reader

Warnings: Unhappy arranged marriage but nothing violent or abusive

Description: A forbidden romance blossoms between King Thranduil's arranged bride to be and the Prince of Erebor. (Loosely inspired by Romeo & Juliet without the death part.)

Will make a part 2 if you guys want it. :)

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,

Which as they kiss consume.

The breeze felt wonderful against your skin after being indoors for so long. You inhaled deeply, allowing the fresh scent of the forest to fill your lungs as you relished in the sounds around you. The chirping birds, the rustling leaves… The walls you’d been kept behind were quiet, far too quiet for your taste. You were used to the sounds of life in the forest, and to be surrounded by the familiar noises once again filled you with delight. 

“Lady (Y/N), we should probably get back.” 

Temporarily, at least. 

You turned to look back at your escort. Tauriel, the captain of King Thranduil’s guard, had been reassigned as your personal escort the day you’d arrived. She was around your age, both of you quite young for elves, and in spite of the differences in your position she’d grown to be a close friend. Your only friend, really. 

“You don’t have to call me that.” You reminded her once again. 

She smiled, and you knew she would continue no matter how many times you told her otherwise.

“You are a lady, are you not? Soon to be the queen?” 

You grimaced at the reminder.

“Unfortunately.” You muttered under your breath. It was probably loud enough for her to hear, but you didn’t care. She was well aware of your feelings on the arrangement. 

You had not come to the kingdom under your own will. Your father, a high lord of another elven kingdom, had desired an alliance between your people and the much more powerful elves of Mirkwood. In exchange for protection and trade agreements, he’d offered King Thranduil your hand. You were both surprised the king had actually accepted, and as soon as word arrived of his agreement to the terms you’d been sent off to Mirkwood the very same afternoon. 

It was well known to many that the king had tragically lost his wife in a battle against orcs many years before. You were as shocked as anyone that he’d agreed to marry again, after he’d been intentionally alone for so many years. Upon your arrival he had been quick to inform you that the marriage was one purely of convenience, as your people had much to offer Mirkwood. Outside of that one conversation, you had not spent any time alone with the king. You’d not spent any time with him at all, really. Aside from the occasional dinner, which was also usually attended by his son, you had only seen Thranduil a handful of times since you’d arrived in Mirkwood a month before.

He was not unkind. From the small interactions you’d had with him he did not appear to be cruel or malicious. You sensed his hardened exterior had a lot to do with the loss of his first wife, and you could not fault him for that. For the most part since your arrival you had been left to your own devices within the walls of the kingdom. Thranduil had given you your own private chambers. They were large and luxurious, with the finest silken tapestries and hand carved furniture you could imagine. Your time was yours alone, as the king never sought an audience with you, and you spent it as you pleased. You’d grown close to Tauriel very quickly, and Thranduil’s son Legolas was also good company. 

Though you could hardly complain about the lavish treatment and unending free time, it had grown into a lonely existence. Your chambers, though massive, felt cold and empty without someone to share it with. You’d explored every nook and cavern of Mirkwood, read every book and parchment in the library, and quickly grew tired of the same mundane routine you’d fallen into. Which, subsequently, led to your trip outside of the kingdom walls with Tauriel. 

Speaking of Tauriel. You felt her step closer to you as she whispered in your ear.

“It could be far worse, (Y/N). I know this is not what you wanted, but Thranduil is a fair and noble man. You will have a good life here.” 

You knew she was right. As a highborn lady in your home kingdom, you’d watched many friends married off to unsavory men over the years. Of all the arrangements you could have ended up with, you’d been matched to the King of Mirkwood. You knew you would live a good life, a luxurious life. But you also knew you were walking into a loveless marriage, and the prospect of being alone pained you. Elves lived long lives, and you couldn’t imagine being a wife in name only for a thousand years or longer. You desired love and true companionship. 

As you looked back at her, nodding your head in resignation of the truth you knew she spoke, she gestured over her shoulder towards the direction of the gate. Time to return. You relented in defeat, following her as she began winding her way back through the woodland trails. The forest was safe now, the spiders having been driven off for good shortly after the Battle of the Five. The king was still reluctant to allow anyone to leave, and it had taken some persuasion on Tauriel’s part to get him to allow the adventure. You hoped he would consent to regular walks in the forest, so long as you didn’t try to abuse the privilege. He did not strike you as a controlling man, but he was certainly protective of his kingdom and those within it.

You took one last, deep breath of the fresh air before you stepped through the heavily guarded doors behind Tauriel. As you turned to say your goodbyes for the evening, you were approached by a taller, dark haired elf. You recognized him as one of Thranduil’s personal servants as he bowed before you. 

“Lady (Y/N), the king has requested an audience.” 

You looked between the messenger and Tauriel, unable to hide the expression of surprise that crossed your features. Thranduil had sent for you? 

Tauriel nodded politely to you as she bowed, dismissing herself as the servant gestured for you to follow him. 

“You know where to find me should you need me, my lady.” She said before turning and departing.

You followed the servant down the winding corridors, through the only passageways you were still unfamiliar with in the kingdom. As you and Thranduil had separate chambers and living spaces, you hadn’t had cause to explore the areas surrounding his rooms. You were surprised to find he had summoned you into his private quarters, rather than his throne room or the dining hall you semi-frequently gathered in. 

The servant came to a halt in front of a large set of ornate doors and he knocked once before opening it, gesturing for you to step through. You stepped inside and the doors closed behind you. The servant didn’t follow you in, and as you continued on alone your mind raced with the possibilities of why Thranduil might have requested to speak with you. 

You were surprised to find his chambers were not much more lavish than your own. He’d clearly spared no expense on your living quarters, as his shared the same style of furniture and tapestries as yours did. The only visible difference you could detect was that his rooms were just a slight bit larger than yours. As you rounded the corner into the main living area you found the king at last. He was standing with his back to you, and as you approached he did not turn to greet you. You stopped a few yards away from him, standing awkwardly with your hands clasped together. He was a king, after all, and you were uncertain if you should speak first. Surely he’d heard you enter. 

After several long moments of silence, Thranduil finally spoke. 

“How have you been finding the kingdom?” He asked, his back still turned to you. His arms moved as he spoke, and from behind it looked as though he were fidgeting with something on the table he stood before.

“Fine, your majesty.” You said quietly, not bothering to elaborate. You didn’t think he’d care too much for the details anyway.

“Have you been treated well?” He continued, still not turning to face you.

“Yes, your majesty.” 

“You may call me Thranduil.” He finally turned, holding two goblets of red wine in his hands. He handed you one and took a long sip from his own before continuing. “We are to be wed, after all. Even if it is merely an arrangement.” 

You nodded wordlessly as you accepted the glass. You remained silent, uncertain of what to say. He paused for a moment before he pivoted on his heel and began to walk back in the direction he’d come.

“I have received an invitation from King Thorin.” As he spoke he paced around the room, sipping from his goblet. It was clear he was as uncertain of what to do in your presence as you were in his. “They are holding a celebration in honor of the anniversary of Erebor’s reclamation. Would you care to attend with me?” 

That was surprising. Despite the joint effort it took between the dwarves and elves to defeat the orc armies, they were still not on the best of terms. Thorin had, after all, attempted to keep the elves’ jewels to himself and nearly started a war between the two clans as a result. There was an uneasy peace between the two, now that the dwarves resided in the mountain once again, and you were surprised that Thranduil would be willing to travel all that way to be in the company of dwarves.

“Yes your ma- Thranduil.” You quickly corrected yourself.

He paused and turned to look at you, though he did not make a move to step closer. 

“I do not expect love to grow between us.” He said flatly.  “But we should be able to tolerate each other, should we not?” 

You nodded.

“Yes, I would say so.” 

He nodded in return as he held his wine glass out, indicating a toast. 

“Very well then. We leave in one week's time.” 

** 

The journey from Mirkwood to Erebor had taken two days, and with the lavish way in which Thranduil liked to travel it was not an uncomfortable trek as you’d anticipated. You arrived at the mountain kingdom well rested, and rather excited at the prospect of a feast. From what the king had explained of dwarvish parties he remembered from the late King Thror’s time, the feast could go on for days. You would be arriving at the tail end of the celebration, as Thranduil had planned. Dwarves were apparently a rambunctious bunch, and as Thorin had requested Thranduil stay and tour the mountain afterwards he had not wanted to spend more time with them than he needed. 

Erebor was as magnificent as you’d been told. It was amazing how the mountain had been transformed and rebuilt in merely a year's time. Though you were used to the splendor of elven realms, as both Mirkwood and your birth home were lavish and beautiful, there was something awe-inspiring about the kingdom under the mountain. The halls were endless, sprawling on in either direction as far as your eyes could see. The ceilings were impossibly high, and despite the kingdom being built into the side of a mountain there seemed to be an abundance of light flowing from any given direction. To look down at the winding staircases that led deeper into the heart of the mountain would make you dizzy, if you stared too long. The stone walls were carved and inlaid with intricate designs of gold and silver, telling the tales and the history of the line of Durin. You had studied many languages, and Khuzdul was one you were somewhat familiar with. You’d found yourself stopping every few feet along the walk to your chambers to read the inscriptions on the walls. 

Legolas, Tauriel, and a handful of others had made the journey along with yourself and Thranduil. The dwarves had spared no luxury for your group, as you’d each been housed in your own private chamber within the mountain. Dwarvish extravagance was very different from that of your elven home. Where the elves valued natural elegance, which involved a lot of carved wood and intricate silks, the dwarves had more of a rugged taste. Your rooms consisted of chiseled stone furniture and fixtures, inlaid with even more gold and a number of jewels you had never laid eyes on before. Though it was very different from your home in Mirkwood, it still felt comfortable and welcoming. 

The dwarf servant that had been assigned to your care had asked what could be provided to make your stay more enjoyable, and she was delighted at your request for books to read later in the evening. She seemed impressed at your ability to read and understand Khuzdul, as many elves didn’t care or bother to learn the language of the dwarves. You’d noticed the air of arrogance Thranduil and Legolas, and even Tauriel, had displayed since your arrival, and you made it your mission to change the dwarves’ opinion of elves, even if the others chose not to do the same. 

After resting and dressing for dinner, you’d met Thranduil and the others in the hall. He extended his arm out to you automatically, as though it were expected rather than something he cared to do. You’d accepted it regardless. As you walked along he did not look down at you, or even acknowledge your dress or appearance for the event. Was this the life you were destined for? Emotionless, cold… Doing things merely out of duty and not from love? You felt your heart sink as you walked along beside the king. It was a lonely existence. 

The feast was in full swing by the time you arrived. It was chaos. There were long, sprawling tables lined with food and more dwarves than you could count. As you watched, food flew from every side of the room, ale spilled across the tabletops and onto the floor, and dwarves moved about, falling over themselves and each other. It was clear the drinking had been going on for much longer than the actual feast. 

“They behave like animals.” Thranduil muttered under his breath. 

Despite having never been in the company of dwarves before, you found yourself surprisingly unbothered by their behavior. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, which was more than you could say for your royal escort. It was certainly more rambunctious than any elvish party you had ever attended, but at least they were having a good time. 

As your party approached a large table at the head of the room, one of the dwarves stood to greet you. He was dark haired with a matching dark beard. Streaks of gray peppered both his long hair and speckled his face, and with the gold and emerald crown atop his head you took him to be the king. As he stood he extended his hand in a greeting.

“King Thranduil.” He bowed his head out of respect to the elven king as he placed his hand across his chest. “We are pleased you could make the journey.” 

Thranduil nodded tightly in return, also bowing his head to Thorin to your surprise. 

“King Thorin.” He said politely, though you could hear the hint of tension in his voice.  “This is my betrothed, Lady (Y/N). You’ve met my son, Prince Legolas.” 

Thorin nodded at you both before gesturing to the dwarves seated on either side of him. On one side sat a woman, with dark hair similar to his own. They shared a stark resemblance, down to the neatly trimmed beard she wore as well. On his other side sat a younger dwarf, who also matched the seeming familial resemblance to the other two. He had wavy, golden hair with braids woven through. His braided mustache bounced as he nodded his head in respect. 

“A pleasure, my lady. My prince. This is my sister, Lady Dis. My nephew and heir, Prince Fili. My other nephew will be joining us shortly.” As he spoke he gestured to two empty seats on the opposite side of the prince. “King Thranduil, would you and your betrothed join us at the head table?” 

Your eyes traveled to the spot down from the empty spaces. You recognized the king of the newly rebuilt city of Dale, Bard. The one who had been responsible for slaying Smaug, if you remembered the story correctly. 

Thranduil’s increasingly strained smile caught your attention from the corner of your eye, and you couldn’t help but smirk a bit in response. You knew the last thing he’d wanted for the evening was to be sandwiched between the dwarves he still wasn’t overly fond of and the humans he held in equal disdain. However you knew his kingly pride would not allow him to turn down the offer. You, on the other hand, were excited to continue on with your mission of making the dwarves see the elves in a better light. 

“We’d be honored.” He said, forcing an even larger fake smile. As another dwarf servant appeared and escorted Legolas and the others to their table, Thranduil gestured for you to choose your seat first. Unable to resist the humor of making the king even more uncomfortable, you opted for the seat next to Bard, leaving Thranduil no choice but to sit and make conversation with the dwarven king and prince. 

“It’s a pleasure, my lady.” King Bard said as you sat, extending his hand to help you into your seat. “I was not aware that King Thranduil had taken a bride.” 

“It’s a new development.” You said, quickly attempting to divert the conversation away from your engagement. “How is the work on the city going?” 

As the two of you made light conversation and exchanged pleasantries, speaking of the rebuild of Dale and the newly reformed relations between dwarves, elves, and men, you began to lose track of time. Several courses came and went, and ale and wine continued to flow freely. Though the elvish tolerance made your kind more resistant to the influence of alcohol, the steady refilling of your goblet as you chatted and sipped away had your head spinning before you’d realized what had happened. You began to feel warm, and as you breathed in and out your corset suddenly felt overwhelmingly restrictive around your chest. 

Air. You needed air. 

Without thinking you turned to your fiance, grabbing his arm in an attempt to get his attention. 

“Thranduil.”

He turned to you, and as his eyes met yours his brief look of annoyance quickly turned into one of concern as he noticed your flushed and panicked face. 

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly, and you were surprised to find that he actually appeared to be worried for your wellbeing. 

You nodded in reassurance, not wanting to cause a scene as you felt the eyes of Bard and Thorin also turning to you.

“I’m just feeling a bit warm, I think I’m going to step out for a moment.”

Thranduil gave a small nod in return, and you quickly stood and excused yourself from the table.

You were uncertain of where to go, as you’d only arrived in the mountain earlier that day and had not had a chance to get to know your way around. The way back to your room felt somewhat familiar, and you decided a quick stroll there and back might help clear your head. As you wove through the crowd, deftly avoiding numerous drunk and stumbling dwarves, you found that a makeshift dance floor had formed directly in front of the entrance, and only exit, to the great hall. You were unfamiliar with the dwarvish music, but it was much softer and merrier than you expected. Dozens of couples twirled around, following footwork that was unknown to you but something they seemed to know by heart. You were transfixed for several moments, watching them move about with an ease and grace that you didn’t know came so naturally to dwarves. After a few minutes you remembered your desire for some air, and decided you’d still like a short break from the commotion before you returned to the table. You tried to move nimbly along the outskirts of the dance floor, trying to avoid crashing into dancing dwarves as you stayed as far out of the way as possible. As you turned back to watch momentarily, still intrigued, you felt yourself collide solidly with another body. Before you had the chance to correct your footing you found you were falling backward. You braced yourself for the impact, but before your body could crash into the stone floor a pair of arms wrapped tightly around you, and you felt yourself being pulled into a broad chest. 

Your gaze turned forward, looking for the source of your rescue in order to thank whoever had saved you from splitting your head open. As your eyes searched the space in front of you they spotted the top of a head of brown hair; the person to whom it was attached stood a few inches shorter than you. It was a dwarf, if you had to guess. He was still cradling you tightly against him, as though he anticipated you might fall backward again at any moment. You felt his grasp loosen as he leaned back to look up at you, though his arms still remained wrapped around your body.

He was young. The difference in how dwarves and elves aged was unfamiliar to you, but judging by his lack of a beard and softer features you assumed he was not an elder. He had wavy brown hair that was pulled partially back, save for a few loose strands and a fringe of bangs that framed his face and a pair of dazzling brown eyes. Though he lacked the fuller beard and mustache that most dwarves wore he did have a sprinkling of stubble across his face. The lack of a beard allowed you to fully appreciate his chiseled jawline and lips, the latter of which currently sported a wide grin. He was quite handsome, and you couldn’t help but stand and stare down at the stranger for several long moments. 

Too long, you realized. How long had you been standing in silence, staring at the nameless man? It would surely look bad if anyone from your party came strolling by.

“I’m sorry sir-” You started. As you stuttered out an apology you moved to step backward, and subsequently tripped again. The young dwarf immediately grasped your arm tighter to steady you and you felt a blush creep into your cheeks in response. So much for the grace and elegance of the elves. 

“The fault was entirely mine, my lady.” He said in return, his kind smile widening at your flustered speech and clumsiness. He didn’t appear to be bothered by your awkwardness; on the contrary, he seemed to enjoy it. His touch lingered on your arm, ensuring you would not fall again before he slowly released his grasp. 

“I’d hardly say so, you were merely walking by and I was not watching where I was going.” Despite your embarrassment you felt a smile spread across your face as well. The kind twinkle in his eyes was contagious, and you quickly felt your fluster fade the longer the two of you spoke.

“Well if you’re so inclined to make amends, you can honor me with a dance.” As he spoke he extended his hand toward you, and in the same motion he nodded his head toward the mass of dancing bodies. The music had slowed to something much less upbeat, something you were sure even you could keep up with. 

You paused. The nameless man had intrigued you, that was for certain. But would dancing with a random dwarf enrage your royal fiance? You craned your neck to look back in the direction of the table you had been sat at with Thranduil and the other royals, but from your position near the dance floor you could not see them. Which meant more than likely they could not see you either. Even so, would it really be that big of a deal? You were supposed to be making peace, after all. 

“That seems only fair.” You said as you turned back to face him. As you accepted his outstretched hand he grasped it tightly, as if he were afraid you’d disappear, and pulled you to the floor. 

The two of you came to a halt in the middle of the mass of bodies. You were surrounded by other dancing pairs on every side, safely hidden away from any watchful eyes. As you rested your hand on his shoulder and entwined the fingers of your free hand with his you felt his other hand rest on your hip. The light touch sent a wave of goosebumps up the side of your body. It was more contact than you’d ever had with the man who was supposed to become your husband. Every point of contact your body had with the stranger felt as though it were on fire. 

Seeming to know you were unfamiliar with the music he took the lead, tugging you gently back and forth until you became comfortable with the simple steps of the dance. You swayed together for a few moments, neither speaking but simply watching each other in a comfortable silence. Though he was a bit shorter than you it was not by much. He stood at eye level with your nose, and you wondered if he were tall for a dwarf, or if you were short for an elf. Thranduil and the others had towered over Thorin, so you expected it was the latter. You had often been one of the smaller elves wherever you’d gone. 

“So you are not from the Iron Hills, I take it.” He grinned up at you as he finally spoke, stating the obvious. There were many physical differences between elves and dwarves, but if your ears and impossibly long hair had not given you away your dress certainly would have. The high-necked and fitted gowns of the dwarven women were a stark contrast to the lower cut and flowing gowns of the elves. 

“I am not.” You confirmed. 

“Are you from Mirkwood?” He continued.

“I am living in Mirkwood, but I am from somewhere farther.” 

“And are all the elves as graceful as you?” He asked. As he spoke he attempted to keep a serious face, as though it were a genuine inquiry. He failed, and before you had the chance to respond to his prodding a smirk broke through his stoic expression. 

“Well I’ve often suspected I’m not entirely an elf.” You said matter-of-factly, playing along with his teasing. “Grace has never been my strong suit.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

“I didn’t know my mother. My father does not speak of her. And as you’ve so keenly pointed out, I do lack the natural elegance of the elves.” Why were you telling him this? You’d only just met the man, and yet you found yourself spilling out the innermost things you’d only ever wondered to yourself. 

“And the height.” He quipped, confirming your earlier thoughts. “But you are no less stunning.” 

You felt a warmth spread across your face, and you were certain you’d blushed a scarlet red. He was more forward than you were used to, and although you enjoyed the company of the cheeky dwarf you were also an engaged woman. To a king, no less. You’d become lost in the conversation, fully absorbed in the moments shared with the handsome stranger. To the point you had almost forgotten you were still in the center of a crowded dance floor. You realized the two of you had stopped moving and instead stood staring at each other again. His eyes were mesmerizing. His fringe of bangs had fallen partially to cover them, and you felt yourself drawn to reach forward and brush them away.

“Are you from Erebor?” You quickly asked, sidestepping his compliment. “Or have you traveled for the celebration?” You turned your gaze to the couples around you and tugged on his hand, indicating you should start moving again. 

Out of the corner of your eye you could see his lopsided grin return, fully aware that you’d avoided the second part of his earlier statement. He followed your lead and began to sway with you, though you noted his grip had tightened on your hip. 

“I live here.” 

“Did you live here before the…” You trailed off, uncertain of how the dwarves spoke of the years the mountain stood uninhabited. Was it a sore subject still? 

“Before the dragon?” He finished. “No. Why do I look that old?” His eyebrows furrowed together as he spoke, his expression unreadable. 

You’d offended him.

“N- no. You don’t. I didn’t- I mean-” You felt your face flush red again as you stumbled over your words. Of course he couldn’t have been old enough to have lived through Smaug. Could he? 

He laughed. 

“I’m only joking.” He assured you. As he spoke he stopped moving again, and gestured over his shoulder to the exit you’d been attempting to make it to before. “Would you like to take a walk? I could show you around a bit while everyone is in here. The halls will be empty” 

You felt a flutter run through your stomach at the prospect of being alone with the mystery man. It was a feeling you’d never experienced with Thranduil, and expected you never would. You checked over your shoulder again, still unable to see the head table from where the two of you stood. But again, would it be so bad? Accepting a tour of the kingdom from a dwarf? You had made it your mission to change their view of the elves, after all. You wordlessly nodded, accepting his invitation, and he grinned widely in return as he took your hand and led you nimbly through the crowd.

The halls of Erebor appeared impossibly larger while empty. The stranger led you up and down staircases, pointing out different areas of the kingdom and showing you various repairs that had been completed in order to reverse the damage done by the dragon. As you walked together you lost track of time again, and you wondered how long you’d been absent from the table. Had Thranduil noticed? Likely not. He never seemed to notice or care when you were gone. 

“So how did you come to live in Mirkwood?” Your escort finally asked, his attention turning from the newly rebuilt throne to you. “You mentioned earlier you were not from there.” 

“My…betrothed.” You started hesitantly. “He lives in Mirkwood.” 

You paused, waiting for the inevitable reaction. You were promised to another, and it pained you to tell him. You felt an undeniable draw to this man who’s name you did not know. There was a familiarity and comfort with him, something you’d never felt before and certainly did not feel with Thranduil. As you waited for him to excuse himself and leave you standing alone in the halls you held your breath, dreading the fallout. 

“Oh.” He sounded surprised at the revelation, but not upset. He made no move to run away from you as he continued. “You do not sound happy about the arrangement.” 

You breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that he had not fled at the mention of your fiance. Though you’d made no mention of your unhappiness with the king, he seemed to have noted that it was not a joyous engagement. You wondered if it were that obvious to everyone when you spoke of Thranduil. 

“I’m not.” 

“Does he not treat you well?” He asked. You noticed a look of concern that immediately furrowed lines in his face. 

“In order to treat me well or not well he’d have to spend time with me.” You said, offering him a sad but reassuring smile that your intended was not an unkind man. “And we do not spend any time together. He told me when I arrived we were to be together in name only.” 

“That sounds terribly lonely.” 

“It has been.” You continued quietly. Your gaze turned back to the designs etched into the stone floor as you walked. Who was this stranger? This man you’d known for an hour at most, but somehow you felt more comfortable with than anyone you’d ever met before. You wanted to know him better, but that would surely be impossible. 

The two of you walked on in silence for several minutes before he spoke again. 

“Has he seen you?” He asked suddenly. 

“What do you mean?”

“Has he laid eyes on you?” He asked again, a hint of urgency in his voice. 

“Well, yes, I’m here with him.” You stated simply. What was he getting at? 

The man shook his head as he turned from you back to stare ahead as you walked. 

“He is a madman, then.” 

“How so?”

“To possess a woman so divine and not spend any time with her…” He trailed off, shaking his head again as though in disappointment. “The only conclusion is he must be insane.” 

You felt your cheeks flush at his statement. This stranger had spoken more kind words to you in an evening than Thranduil had in a month. Who was this man? 

“I don’t know if I would say that.” You said quietly, keeping your eyes focused on the ground as you spoke. 

“I would.” He stopped suddenly and took your hand, pulling you to a stop with him. He tugged you around to face him, and kept your hand locked tightly in his as he spoke. “Tales will be written of your beauty some day. You are the fairest princess in the most wonderful fairytale. The most beautiful and elegant of all the elves in all of the realms. The most precious jewel under this mountain. If he is not insane, your betrothed is surely blind.” 

The way he stared up into your eyes sent another flutter through your stomach. Something you’d sorely lacked with Thranduil. Passion. You felt it as strongly as anything, the unmistakable feelings of desire and attraction swirling within you. It was as though the force of gravity itself had shifted, and rather than grounding you to the earth you stood on it was pulling you towards this stranger instead. 

“You flatter me, sir. I do not even know your name.” You whispered. As you spoke you felt yourself unconsciously pulling against his hand, tugging him closer to you. He stepped forward willingly, bringing your bodies only inches apart. 

“I am-” He began.

“Kili.” 

The both of you jumped at the unfamiliar voice that invaded the intimate bubble you’d enclosed yourselves in. You quickly released his hand and stepped backward, putting as much space as possible between you as the intruder approached. The young blonde prince you’d met earlier, Fili if you remembered correctly, was strolling toward the two of you. 

“My lady, this is my brother, Prince Kili.” He said by way of introduction as he came to a halt beside him. “Brother this is Lady (Y/N), the intended of King Thranduil.” It seemed as though he were offering a reminder to the pair of you, rather than an introduction. 

His brother. The king’s nephew. Of course it was. 

The stranger you now knew to be Kili was staring at you, the pieces falling into place as his eyes widened. 

“Thranduil…” He mumbled. “Of course.”

Fili raised an eyebrow in confusion at his brother's muttering before turning his attention back to you. 

“My lady, your fiance requested I come check on you. Are you well?” He asked. He was far more formal and royally appropriate than his brother had been for the past hour. 

You quickly slipped back into a more formal mode yourself, straightening your back and clasping your hands behind you. You nodded respectfully at the elder prince. 

“Thank you, Prince Fili. Prince Kili was just escorting me back to my room. Will you tell King Thranduil I am not feeling well and would like to retire for the evening?” 

He nodded. 

“I will. Brother, our king has requested your presence. Do you know the rest of the way back, my lady?” As he spoke he pulled on his brother's arm, indicating they should return to the hall as quickly as possible. You hoped nothing had been made of your joint absence, though given the fact you’d not been introduced earlier the connection would have been a longshot for anyone to make. 

“I do.” You said, giving the older brother a reassuring smile as he turned to leave. “It was nice to meet you, Kili.” You felt a pang of sadness. The evening had gone by far too quickly, and you knew you were not likely to see the handsome prince again.

“And you, (Y/N).” He took your hand in his and kissed it gently, allowing his lips to momentarily linger against the delicate skin of your hand. He released it and quickly stood, leaning in to whisper in your ear before following his brother. “I will find you again.” 

[nicki0kaye]

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Junior Guard Captain Garazeb and Underworld crime prince Sasha fall into each other's orbit and hard. This is the 'verse where they have complimentary force powers; Guard (Zeb, empath) and Watcher (Kallus, heightened senses). you can check out the sketch phases of this here. Zeb characterization and general Lasan HCs courtesy of @sidhebeingbrand

Not ten minutes after meeting, Sasha tries to use Zeb as his ticket off Coruscant, which creates something of a diplomatic incident.

The Kallus' aren't a very powerful underworld gang, but they don't want to lose Sasha and are more than willing to become a pain in the surface's ass to get him back. Zeb's superiors don't want any of that, but there's a hiccup; Zeb and Sasha are already 'bonded'. Their auras compliment one another, and have more or less interlocked in what little time they've known each other. Untangling them now would be a process. That, and Sasha has told them some concerning things about how his family treats him and his gift.

So the plan becomes; parlay with the Kallus Family down in the Underworld.

It goes better than expected, all things considered. Sasha's family wants him to stay and are willing to accept assistance from the Lasat, because they're under no illusions that their family's way of doing things is working. Sasha's magic has always been more than either his brother or grandmother could handle. If the Lasat are willing to spare a teacher, the Kallus' will put them up and treat them like family.

Which means Zeb is going to stay.

Sasha is furious. He wants to stay with Zeb, yeah, but he wanted to go with him to Lasan. Not ruin the guy's whole career by getting him stuck in the frozen ass-end of Coruscant's basement sectors.

There's one place Sasha goes when he's feeling trapped and overstimulated. At the bottom of level 1996--a level comprised entirely of the piping needed to keep the above levels running--is a giant empty space where the next level should be. Over a hundred stories of nothing between the pipes of '96 and the sewage pit of 1994. This is where Sasha goes to worship his god. The Lasat know him as the Bendu--the one who walks in the middle--but in the north-eastern sectors of the Underworld, they simply call it 'The Void'. It isn't the kind of god to lend its favor, but it is there all the same, and it will listen. Sasha comes to it often to vent his frustrations, to scream into the dark, and this time, Zeb follows.

The whole thing freaks Zeb out. He's a good, devout child of the Ashla, and this big yawning pit his bonded feels compelled to dangle over scares him shitless. He respects the Bendu, respects Sasha as a child of the Between, so he doesn't interfere. Zeb does, however, reel Sasha into the safety of his own arms the second his crazy little human is done.

That's when this conversation happens. Across their bond, in the privacy of their auras, Zeb promises the next time he sees the stars, Sasha will be there beside him. "I know why it calls to you now, the emptiness."

A shiver works its way through Sasha. "Why are you like this?" he asks, pressing into Zeb's space, forehead to forehead. "You just promise like it's nothing."

"To be your Guard is everything. I do not want another bondmate. Terrifying small human."

Sasha's laugh is a little wheezy and broken. He forces a grin as he asks "what if?" aloud, pretending it's a game, a new way to tease the overly serious Guard, and that there's no growing fear he may misstep and give Zeb reason to abandon him.

Zeb says he doesn't know, but then counters; "what if I steal you?"

The question is left unanswered--they aren't alone in the 1996 and need to get going--but it isn't forgotten. Nor Zeb's promise that one day, the two of them will hunt the stars.

[delulu-is-the-soluluh]

Scars of Flames and Wind | Chapter 4

Chap 3

A Dark!Rowaelin x afab!Reader

(Temporary) Summary:  Aelin and Y/N shared a deep bond since childhood, growing up together in the royal courts of Terrasen as their innocent crushes hinted at a future romance. However, the invasion of Adarlan shattered their world. Aelin was forced to become Celaena, while Y/N stayed behind, joining the rebellion and becoming their most lethal spy, never ceasing to look for the princess. That is until she accidentally meets with a famous assassin who’s eyes she knows for so long.

Warnings: Not proof read. yn (I guess) I changed one thing or two for the sake of the plot. Set on Crown of Midnight.

Chapter 4 l As time goes by; part two

The night was sultry, heavy with the intense scent of saltwater, and the stars twinkled with the same intensity as the curiosity hidden behind the masks covering the faces of everyone at the party. The ballroom was radiant, illuminated by golden chandeliers and adorned with velvet tapestries, creating an atmosphere that exuded glamour and power. A masquerade ball, the traditional Litha celebration—and I was right at its center, playing yet another role none of them would suspect.

I confess that a part of me was thrilled when Aedion told me about the ball. Deep down, I missed the dresses, the adornments, the delicacies, and the chocolates served. Even with the plan in mind, I allowed myself a small moment of indulgence. I was wrapped in a light, flowing ball gown made of a soft green fabric, like summer leaves, with silver details that shimmered in the light, like sunlight reflecting on water.

The bodice was delicate, with silver threads woven into subtle patterns, while the skirt flowed in soft layers that moved gracefully, reminiscent of the warm summer breeze. The lightness of the dress, contrasted with the richness of the silver, made me look like an ethereal vision—a tree swaying gently in the wind. Wearing an intricate mask that concealed my eyes and hid my identity, I made sure to appear as a noble, not only to blend in with the other lavishly dressed guests but also because it was Aedion’s money, not mine. An early birthday gift, he had said.

Although the king knew there was indeed someone infiltrating his court, none of the guests knew who or what I was—not even Prince Dorian or Chaol, the captain of the guard. They saw me only as another noble guest, someone dedicated to gossiping about the court's latest scandals, and the king had never seen me without the mask. But, in truth, I was there to spread more than just gossip.

The music played softly in the background, blending with the murmur of conversations and muffled laughter. I spent the entire evening gliding among groups of guests, dropping subtle words, like poison, about a possible coup within the court and the need for someone as ruthless as the king to lead the crown's protection.

“Did you know assassins still attack the kingdom?” My voice was soft as I responded to a middle-aged nobleman with brown hair, but loud enough to catch the attention of a few curious faces. “Those who care nothing for the king or the court draw closer to our homes every day—perhaps even to our circles. And who will stop them if we don’t have someone capable of doing what must be done?”

His voice, though calm, carried a note of skepticism. “Yes, yes, assassins might still be at large,” he replied, nodding with a forced smile, “but at what cost, my dear? Do we truly want the kingdom protected by someone so... ruthless? Sure, having someone like that on our side might solve what needs solving, but shouldn’t we rely on our own forces? Or are you suggesting we depend on someone of equal ruthlessness to safeguard our crown?”

With an overly sweet smile but a firm gaze, I replied in a soft yet challenging tone, “And since when do we draw the line between justice and tyranny?”

My eyes met Dorian’s from across the room, where he stood in a corner surrounded by women laughing and chatting as he drank, clearly letting himself be swept up in the party's energy. Captain Chaol stood beside him, as always, more serious—a stone amidst a sea of frivolity.

Dorian let out a sarcastic laugh, his eyes gleaming with a familiar cynicism. “Ah, yes, everything is under control. As my father always says, ‘Why worry about what happens outside the palace walls?’ Of course, the problem is he never knew where to stop. To him, control means crushing anyone who dares question him. So yes, it’s all... an exaggeration.”

I couldn’t suppress a faint smile tinged with disdain. The prince, with all his carefree energy, thought he could hide behind a glass of wine and the laughter of women as if nothing mattered. But I knew what he really thought about the court—deep down, he wanted more than just to be the libertine everyone saw.

“Exaggeration, Your Highness?” My voice was soft, but irony dripped from every word. “I don’t know... Perhaps you’re right. The court is entirely free of danger. And who needs an assassin to protect the throne?” I grew bolder, stepping closer to him, my eyes glinting from behind the mask as I spoke low enough for only him to hear. “But if you truly want to earn your father’s approval, perhaps you should start by choosing the best among the nobles here. The court needs more than a prince who hides behind parties and wine.”

Dorian’s smile faltered for a moment, his gaze sharpening. He didn’t like being challenged, and despite being drunk, the provocation hit its mark. “You don’t understand my position. It’s not about being the best or the worst. It’s not about earning my father’s approval.”

“Of course not,” I countered, my voice softening but carrying a hidden edge. “If that were the case, you wouldn’t be so unconcerned with what happens outside these walls. But the truth is, you’re not the man the court needs. You’re just another distraction—or at least that’s how you’ve chosen to appear.”

Dorian seemed to steady himself but couldn’t find the words to reply. The silence stretched between us, and that’s when I decided to deliver the final blow.

“But who knows... if you choose to be braver, to care a little more about who’s in control, perhaps you could finally prove yourself useful for something other than being an indolent prince. It’s frustrating to see such a brilliant mind, someone who knows what’s truly right, waste away in alcohol and debauchery.” My voice dropped to an almost seductive tone. “And if you truly want to be taken seriously by your father, you should choose the best champion for this kingdom.”

The prince, still visibly irritated, cast a sharp look in my direction but couldn’t muster a retort. I knew he was beginning to realize that perhaps something more complex was brewing beneath the surface of this court.

Chaol, who had been silently observing until then, finally moved, placing a firm hand on Dorian’s shoulder. “Don’t waste your time on provocations, Your Highness. It’s not worth it.”

I stepped back, still smiling. “You’re right, Captain. But sometimes, what’s worth it is what keeps us on our toes.”

Chaol shot me a sharp glance, and I returned my most innocent smile. I knew that tonight, I had taken another step in the right direction—that the prince—heavens prove me right, as clever as Sorscha claims he is—would carry my words with him. I turned back to the group I had been mingling with, satisfied with our exchange. After all, it wasn’t just about manipulating the prince. It was about finding the court's weaknesses and using them to my advantage.

I could still feel the weight of the lord’s murder on my shoulders—the memory of his fallen body etched in my mind, along with the entire throne room conversation, where the lord's head lay at his feet on the day of my departure. The king had agreed to Aedion’s proposal of having an assassin as a champion, sending me back to The Bane and ordering me to head for Suria, the coastal city of Terrasen. The disgust and hatred still churned inside me, knowing firsthand how my cousin was treated—no longer a mere pet—and realizing that because of that wretched king, we had lost everything and were forced to work in the shadows.

But the plan was working, no matter how crazy or bizarre it seemed. It was madness to follow the advice of a specter that appeared in dreams. I knew I had been losing my sanity for a long time, but full-on insanity wasn’t part of the plan. Not when the rebellion was gaining ground. Not when my own steps were becoming steadier, even if they barely dulled the bitterness. Sam’s death, Arobynn’s actions with Rouke—it all pushed me to the brink of madness. But war was a dangerous tide, and I needed to be sharper. Revenge was no longer an option—not until the rebellion was stronger. Not until she came back to me.

The apartment was silent, save for the soft scratch of Ren’s pen on paper. He was engrossed in the rebellion's information, pouring over reports from groups scattered across Adarlan. I allowed myself to observe him, elbows propped on the table, absentmindedly playing with the sun-and-moon pendants on my necklace. The sunlight from the window illuminated his brown eyes and slightly longer-than-usual black hair, hiding the scar on his face as if the world outside didn’t exist. I couldn’t deny it—he was a handsome man. His upright posture and striking features were hard to ignore. The kind of beauty that drew attention effortlessly.

Ren finished writing and looked at me, a lighter expression on his face, as if everything had already been resolved. He raised his eyes to meet mine, breaking me out of my thoughts. His crooked smile made my stomach twist—a sensation I should have learned to ignore by now.

"You’re overthinking, Y/N. You’ll start smoking from your head soon." He stretched in his chair, arms above his head, as if it had been ages since we’d last seen each other. He always knew when I was far away in my thoughts.

I let out a light laugh and rolled my eyes. “Idiot... you know I can’t help it,” I said calmly, resting my head on the coffee table. Ren leaned closer to me, his face near mine, propping himself up on his forearm, creating a tension between us.

He leaned slightly forward, his eyes gleaming in that familiar way. "But you can’t deny that a bit of... fun helps, right?"

I looked at him and shook my head with a tired sigh. "Ren... that’s not happening again," I said in a slow, warning tone.

Once. Just once, two autumns ago, and it was enough for him to get the wrong idea. He was a good man, and I was sure almost no one would have questioned it if we’d become a couple. It was stupid—I was angry that Celaena had chosen Sam, that she’d left the Guild for him... and when I got to the apartment that night, Ren was there. We drank cheap wine to forget everything happening that autumn, and... a morning of hangovers and regret followed.

He chuckled softly, as if he found me amusing. “You never give yourself a break, do you?”

"Not for a second."

He raised his eyebrows. "Well, I’ll have to find another way to distract you, then."

I knew he was trying to ease the tension, but I didn’t have time for it. My mind was elsewhere. I took a deep breath, avoiding his gaze.

"What’s on your mind, Y/N?" Ren asked, clearly curious.

I ignored his question, standing up from the table and walking to the couch where his backpack lay open, papers and trinkets spilling out. "Travel bags should be cleaned out, you know?" I said sarcastically, completely changing the subject. He stuck his tongue out at me as I rummaged through the bag deliberately. A coarse envelope bearing a tax seal fell to the floor. I frowned, picking it up. "You haven’t read Sorscha’s letter yet?"

"No, I wanted to read it with you," Ren said, still focused on the papers in front of him. "With the competition going on, she’s had more access to the palace as a healer. She’s getting crucial information... and, well, you and Aedion are the masterminds behind all of this."

I walked back to the coffee table and sat down. "Thanks, but if you pile one more responsibility on me, I’m going to explode," I said lightly as I opened the letter and began reading silently. Her handwriting, usually simple, now felt like a punch in the gut. My heart chilled as I read:

"Things are stirring in the palace. The atmosphere is tense, and rumors are flying faster than the wind. Cain is undoubtedly the court’s favorite. His strength and presence make him nearly unbeatable, but there’s something about Lilian that’s drawing attention. Though many see her as just a jewel thief, the truth is, she’s far more cunning than anyone imagines. Be cautious with her. At the ball, I saw a mysterious blonde woman in white and blue, dancing with Prince Dorian. She danced with him longer than any other woman that night, raising many questions. There’s talk that this woman might be the competitor. If it’s her... we need to find out if she’s one of ours."

Lilian. The name cut like a sharp blade. I knew exactly who she was. No one but Aedion and I knew the truth. Reading those words—those observations about her—seeing that she was close to the prince, dancing with Dorian, three times... My stomach twisted, and anger began to simmer.

It wasn’t about her dancing with him. It was about what it meant. The woman I loved more than anything else, in someone else’s arms. Again. I should have been relieved and happy knowing she was alive, advancing in the tournament, and would soon be free. But how could I fight for that?

The letter went on. The atmosphere around the competition was strange. Sorscha mentioned that some competitors were vanishing, disappearing outside the challenges. Giant footprints had been found, and everything was being cleaned up before the court could see. Whatever it was, it wasn’t human. Whatever it was, it was disrupting the competition and the participants, with no plausible explanation.

And I wanted to focus on that. I wanted to focus on what mattered, on what I was supposed to do. But all my mind wanted was to think of her with the little prince. Because deep down, I knew it wasn’t just a dance. It was always more.

I closed the letter with trembling fingers, the weight of anger and frustration consuming me. Ren didn’t know any of this. He didn’t know what it meant to me, what this competition truly meant. He didn’t know what had happened between us in the past, and I couldn’t tell him. Not now. Not without risking everything.

I put the letter aside, my anger growing colder and quieter with each passing second. It was all that was left—to contain it. There was nothing else to do but move forward.

"I’ve made good progress with Archer’s group," I said, my voice controlled, monotone, as if everything was normal. "The negotiations with Nehemia are more solid now. The princess has agreed to help us."

Ren smiled, clearly relieved. "Really? That’s great! Things are becoming more concrete, and—"

I stopped listening, lost in my thoughts again. Yes, more concrete. But for me, everything was still broken.

It felt familiar... the moonlight, the scent of cedar and cold wind... a familiar dream. This time, denser and more realistic than ever. The touch of the thick vegetation of the ancient Oakwald Forest as I walked toward the largest tree in sight. The thick trunk seemed almost alive, pulsing with an ancient energy. And once again, she was there. The luminous woman with long white hair, her face still shrouded in mist. I could feel her gaze fixed on me, as if she were waiting for something.

"YN Monserrat..." The woman's voice was deep and soft, like the echo of something ancient, but also filled with urgency.

I frowned, the rarely used surname feeling strange and stirring a feeling I couldn’t quite name, almost like remorse. Not that I despised my heritage, but I had always been regarded as an Ashryver. Before she could say anything else, I interrupted her with an impatient tone.

"I did what you asked," I said, my voice hard, my chest tight. "Even though all of this seemed insane, and I didn’t know if it was true. But I did it. She’s alive and progressing further in the tournament every day."

The woman didn’t flinch. "I know. And yes, this is real, YN. More real than you can imagine..." she said in a remorseful tone, stepping closer. The light around her figure grew. "What you’ve done was necessary. Now, what matters is that you learn the Wyrd language. To understand what’s happening. To understand the creatures being brought to this castle."

I was stunned. "What? Creatures...?" I automatically thought of the rumors of beasts in the castles, which made me even more uneasy. "What… Who are you to tell me what to do? To know all this?" My tone was a mix of anger and distrust. "More riddles and mysteries again..."

The woman was silent for a moment, as if carefully choosing her words. Then she spoke with the calmness of someone who knew far more than they revealed.

"They are Wyrd creatures, formed by one of the two stones the King possesses. They’ve started emerging from the shadows, brought to life by this force—ancient and powerful beyond what you can imagine. They are not human, though some may appear to be... and they’re being sent to hunt."

Her voice darkened as if the weight of the truth bore down on her. "And all of this ties into why you’re here. You’re in the middle of a dangerous game, YN. That’s why you must learn the Wyrd language, to protect yourself and to protect—"

I felt my anger explode like an earthquake. "Protect? You made me throw her to the wolves! It was supposed to save her, you told me she’d be safe, and now you’re telling me there’s a threat in there? That I have to learn a language I’ve never heard of? And here I am, the idiot listening to a specter in a dream!" I laughed bitterly. "I swear, if anything happens to her... specter or not, I will destroy you."

The woman looked at me in silence, her eyes brimming with something I couldn’t identify. As if my words had wounded her more deeply than any physical blow. Good.

"Someone will come to you. Someone who knows more and can guide you. This person also knows you," she replied, her voice heavy with emotion, her silhouette becoming more transparent.

"What? Wait!"

I woke with a start, sweating in my bed, hearing Ren’s soft snores from the bunk above me. The sun was beginning to rise, casting a faint glow through the small window. Before I could process that damn dream, I noticed something unusual by the window. A letter lay on the sill—a strange sight, considering I was on the fourth floor of the old, decrepit building where we lived.

Cautiously, I approached, my suspicion fed by the sense that something wasn’t right. If someone knew we were here, knew what we were... I exhaled in relief when I saw the rebel group's code. I opened the letter and couldn’t hide my surprise. A direct message from Nehemia, written in our rebellion codes.

What the woman had said... It was about her. The princess. I had never felt so much anger in my life. How many people was that ghost dragging into this sordid game? I couldn’t understand why Terrasen or Celaena would be a common interest—or why I had to be the link.

Without wasting time, I grabbed paper and pen. Sitting at the makeshift dining table, I gripped the pen tightly, writing a quick response, suggesting a safer method, and describing how it could work.

I walked silently through the dark and forgotten corridors of the ancient stone castle beneath the imposing glass castle above. The worn, ancient stone walls seemed to swallow every sound of my footsteps. Disguised in simple servant's clothing—a tattered skirt and plain linen blouse that drew little attention—I kept my face exposed but my gaze downcast, avoiding eye contact with anyone passing by. I took every opportunity to move through the most neglected corridors, remaining unseen.

In those secret, desolate halls, I overheard conversations that never made it into Sorscha’s reports. Whispers slipped out unintentionally, rumors tossed into the air. They seemed trivial, but somehow, they cut deeper than I cared to admit.

On one of these walks, as I passed through a narrow corridor, I caught muffled voices coming from a group of servants. I quickly positioned myself beneath an air duct in the ceiling, where golden light seeped through, and strained to catch their words. A young woman’s voice, sharp with irritation, echoed faintly.

“I don’t know what Duke Perrington wants from me anymore,” she grumbled, her voice laced with frustration. “That old man is just making things harder for me. And worse than these damned headaches is Prince Dorian avoiding me more and more, always chasing after that Liliana.”

There was a sneer in her tone, a bitterness that went beyond annoyance—she sounded utterly disillusioned. “If only he knew... Hurry up, I need my opiates, or I’ll lose it!”

My brows furrowed as my breathing quickened. The mention of Duke Perrington made my skin crawl. He wasn’t making much progress impressing the King with Cain, his tournament contender, and now he seemed to be targeting a young noblewoman to secure his influence. Disgusting. But something else nagged at me. The mention of Liliana didn’t escape my notice. If the Duke knew... if he discovered who she truly was...

Anxiety settled in my chest like a lead weight, but I had to keep moving. The echoes of my footsteps faded into the cold stone as a peculiar sound caught my attention. Near one of the air ducts that fed into the quarters and offices, a man’s voice carried low and intense, each word heavy with purpose. He seemed to be speaking to himself, his thoughts too significant to keep silent.

“In Morath, the experiment is succeeding. It’s only a matter of time before she accepts the offer... Yes, there will be enough for the next step.”

The word "Morath" made me freeze. I’d never heard it before, but the tone of his voice, filled with anticipation and cold detachment, sent a shiver down my spine. She? Who was he referring to? What—or who—was he preparing for?

The sense of something much larger, darker than the specter ever hinted at, began to close in around me. But I couldn’t linger. A pause hung in the air, followed by a faint, deranged murmur.

“The next one will be more efficient...” His voice dragged, as if he spoke of something—or someone—with distant cruelty. The words carried the weight of a sentence, and I could almost imagine the disdain in his tone. Was he talking about a creature? A weapon? The feeling was that of a beast waiting to be unleashed.

I wanted to stay, to understand more, but instinct warned me otherwise. I continued walking, letting the conversation fade behind me. The words still echoed in my mind, their weight impossible to ignore.

When I finally reached the meeting point—a remote, long-forgotten grove—the memory of those words still hammered in my head. I took a deep breath, trying to push them aside. The soft moonlight illuminated Nehemia’s figure as she stood near the stones where we often sat to study, waiting for me. She always seemed so serene, as if she viewed the world from a perspective I couldn’t reach.

She looked at me as I approached, her smile gentle but tinged with that knowing gaze I had come to recognize. She knew something was weighing on me, but, as always, she didn’t pry. Nehemia was like that—silent, never imposing her questions.

“Good evening, YN,” she said, her voice sweet but laced with a quiet respect.

“Good evening, Nehemia,” I replied, managing a faint smile.

She gave a small nod and led me to the stones, carrying scrolls and a few pencils. Our meetings were always like this—calm, as if the world around us faded for a moment. Random days, no rush, no pressure.

At first, the process was difficult—the words of the Wyrd tongue unraveled slowly in my mind. But as weeks passed and I balanced my studies with the information she shared about the tournament’s final stages, I felt myself growing more adept at reading. Pronunciation, however, was another disaster entirely. At least it provided some laughter between us.

“Let’s start by reciting ancient words,” she said, already picking up a pencil and preparing to teach me what I needed to understand the Wyrd tongue.

There was a mutual understanding growing silently between us. Neither of us needed to speak of what had brought us here. We didn’t have to reinforce the obvious. She knew I was grappling with something inexplicable. I, in turn, recognized the depth in her calmness and patience.

We both understood the stakes, though we avoided speaking of them—how close the final stages of the tournament were.

And for now, that was enough.

Author's note: I'm alive! First of all, thank you for your patience, it was quite of hectic and unkind three moths but we're great for life learning things. I'm trying write as much as possible so I could just leave it schedule to post but yeah. I can't wait for you guys to read the rest of it!

Taglist:

@throneofsapphics @acourtofbatboydreams

[ideas-4-stories]

Cross guild fanfic idea

Warnings for 18+ Content, discussions of infertility, and past torture

Buggy is transmasc, something very few people know and fewer still recall the reveal thereof. He was very young when he realized he wasn't comfortable being called the crew's "little lass" or "baby girl". While the Rogers were wild and pretty lackluster at caring for children, they definitely went above and beyond for this bit. Buggy's assigned gender at birth is one of the biggest secrets he keeps, and it's been that way for over three decades.

When he fell ill before the last island, there was concern about him and Shanks being left all alone. Most of the concern came from Roger. He didn't think either of his boys would hurt one another, but someone else might hurt his babies. He is terrified of the prospect, especially since Buggy's fever had begun to spike so high that the poor thing was mostly unconscious, mumbling and crying in his sleep. Roger may be a pirate, a captain, but these kids also made him into a father.

He sneaks them back onto the ship.

This changes some core things very quickly.

Word gets out that the Roger Pirates have seized the crown, that Roger is now King, and the cabin boys are there as well. This shifts the tides in small ways that compound more and more until it becomes a tidal wave of change.

For one, the fight and betrayal on a rainy evening and Loguetown between Shanks and Buggy alters. They will not seize the crown themselves, they know what lay at the End. They are not the Princes entitled to the crown itself, but instead they consider themselves more like sentries to guard the gates there in.

Roger disbands the crew. He vanishes for 2 years. He returns as a picture on the front page and an execution date. The boys rush to be there, to stop it, to help, and he does not let them. They instead must bare witness to the death of a father and the birth of an Era.

They then must weather the implosion of their family.

Left alone, they stick together. Roger had many enemies, and it was no secret that they were all the type to strike the weakest links, the vulnerable pieces, to make a point. Buggy and Shanks had targets on their backs the moment Roger's blood painted the scaffold.

Shiki in particular was one of the biggest threats.

The boys get separated, and Buggy, as his luck would have it, lands in Shiki's hands. He barely survives the torment until he manages to escape. He is hurt, he is withering, and his body holds more scars than what is visible on his skin. Shiki did not hold back, not on a child, not on Roger's child.

Shanks is livid, is furious, is seething and frothing, but his priority is Buggy, will always be Buggy, his friend, his brother, his Blue. They get through it all together. Buggy heals, mostly. He also receives some of the worst news of his life.

Young as he was, he'd also considered having a family. He'd wanted it. He'd wanted that connection and love and care, even if he often struggled with feeling like he deserved it. He'd wanted.

And the chance for it was robbed from him. Internal damage, scar tissue, etc - and he had to face the looming reality of never baring a child of his own flesh and blood. He is sad. He mourns. He grieves. But he decides, once he has processed, that love is not blood, because though he and Shanks are night and day, dawn and dusk, they are them, a package deal, and that transcends blood. A child does not have to be his by blood if the child is his by heart. He cannot grow his baby himself, but he can build his family by hand and by heart, and that will be enough. It will.

Fast forward to Cross Guild.

His crew is aware that he is transgender. He does not hide it per se, nor does he scream it from the heavens. It simply Is.

It does become a topic of conversation when bonds deepen and intimacy is reached between three men, but beyond verification of consent and boundaries, it is not mentioned again.

Buggy tells them in small bursts that he is infertile and why that is the case. To say the other two are angry is an understatement, but they focus on their clown's comfort more than their own fury.

Eventually, time having passed and comfort being reached, the trio begin noticing.... changes.

Buggy's appetite has dropped considerably, and he's lost some weight. As a Devil Fruit user, he has an odd yet rapid metabolism which requires specific feeding. It's much like fueling a vice, this deal with the devil. He often feeds with food, but his interest in it has flipped.

Crocodile and Mihawk are concerned, for good reason as well, but Buggy seems largely uninterested. They convince him to see a doctor if only to verify his safety and bribe him into agreeing through honeyed words and wandering hands.

The doctor runs a few tests, gives him a head to toe check up and returns with congratulations and a hormone list. Buggy is stunned. Buggy is breathless.

Buggy is pregnant.

Crocodile quite literally faints. Mihawk is visibly rebooting. The doctor is wondering if he'll need to begin on some other options when Buggy begins crying, grinning, laughing, and pale arms wind around him tightly.

They swear the doctor to secrecy. This pregnancy is fairly high risk due to his health, so they are refusing to jump the gun on outting it.

Buggy can't help hooking his dendens together for security and calling Shanks, though. Uncle Red deserves to know.

Shanks cries.

There are a few scares throughout, but everything's alright in the end. Crocodile and Mihawk are absolutely over bearing and comically protective, which gets mixed results from Buggy himself.

Then late on July evening, as the crew is eating and making merry, Buggy with a hand on his stomach, his lovers enjoying the moment, all hell breaks loose as Buggy tenses, pales, hisses and scrambles for something to hold. Braxton hicks, he tries to tell himself deliriously, until the come one after another. Crocodile hurries ahead to prepare the medical tents. Mihawk offers to carry Buggy, and nearly gets his face ripped off when Buggy bristles at it. They get him there and it turns out that baby beloved has decided today is the day. He's a month early.

The labor is long and difficult, even after they break his water. It is especially so when it turns out the afterbirth is simply Another Birth. He swears and screeches and vows to never let a mantouch himagain while alternating between clinging to his lovers and trying to kill them.

The babies are small, but they are fairly healthy all things considered.

Ramona D. Clown is born first with a riotous mane of blue curls like her papa, dark eyes revealed as she peers around once the wailing has ceased. She got her hair and nose from Buggy, but all her other features are Crocodile's through and through. They name her with meaning, her Haki pulsing in little waves as if trying to gain understandingof her surroundings. She is bold, is brave, is beautiful.

Aurora D. Clown is born soon after her sister with blue hair in coils and waves. She is born quiet and it terrifies everyone. Once she is cleared, is rubbed, is encouraged, she releases the loudest cries any have heard before. Named for the hope of dawn and the near miss of her life, Rory is beloved by her fathers. Her eyes, when she peeks open later on, are a deep color.

It will later be found that both girls take after their parents in many ways, and that both inherited Buggy's sense of mischief and shenanigans. Once old enough, the enjoy switching places to confuse people. One with midnight indigo eyes, another with nearly black green, they are not identical, but they are close enough that some fall for it.

Their parents never do.

Shanks pretends to, every single time, if only to get their happy laughter and have an excuse to give them gifts in disguise of prizes for tricking him.

That's all I got rn but here ya go I'll never write this ily byyyyeeee

Ooooo, this is an interesting fic idea. I’m sure Buggy just flat-out stated that he wasn’t a girl, love that Roger Pirates just were like Understood 👍 Good thing that something they did right.

Roger snuck Buggy and Shanks back onto the ship, because he was very concerned for them. That’s understandable and very endearing. No doubt Roger got his butt kicked by multiple of people on board. Indeed it changes things because the two cabin boys know what’s at the end. To me, I think in canon somehow Shanks got the crew to tell him what was at the end while Buggy didn’t want to hear until he could go there.

So them going to the last island definitely changes the fight in Lougetown. Poor Buggy and Shanks unable to help their captain because he doesn’t want them to, then the aftermath where they have to be weary of Roger’s enemies. I’m guessing this is an AU where Shiki doesn’t get sent to prison soon after Eddie’s War… I’m sure that’s what happened in canon.

Poor Buggy, I know Shanks really wants to rip Shiki apart. I think we all want too!

Oh that news hit Buggy hard, good thing Buggy processed that love isn’t always blood-related.

Ooooooo! Buggy is pregnant! Love that Crocodile faints and Mihawk is rebooting. The doctor isn’t going to tell anyone. Shanks crying because he’s going to be an uncle. Crocodile and Mihawk being overbearing and protective must got everyone in awe.

Buggy alternating between clinging to them and trying to kill them is so Buggy. Good thing they were healthy. I’m glad for that! I’m already loving Ramona and Aurora, taking after Buggy’s sense of mischief and shenanigans. If you ever sent an ask about them, I would love that. Their interactions with other people and who they going to be in the future. Uncle Shanks pretending not to know who is who. That’s so funny and cute.

Sorry if it seemed that I was ignoring your ask, I was stressing over a big test. So, I didn’t think about asks for a while.

[sillypiratelife]

Random straw hat moments on the fake prince Zoro au that I keep thinking about:

Nami, Luffy, Chopper and Sanji meeting with the little folk of the forest and playing their games in order to win gold and information about where the royal family is.

They challenge Nami to learn the layout of their little maze of a forest. Even when she's about to go bald from the stress, Nami is so happy. The way the little folk value her skills and want her as their rival... It almost never happens, okay?

So. Many. Insects. Nami and Sanji keep on screaming as silently as possible while Luffy captures as many as he can to set them aside or take them with him on his adventure. The little folk use the weirdest bugs as currency so it's hilarious, really.

That one old woman from the farmer village that notices Sanji having a breakdown and cooks for him to make him feel better <3 Sanji goes to her three times and each time her soup changes a little. He's obsessed with it, behind all his current worries. What herbs and vegetables is she using? How does she make the food look otherworldly without it feeling completely toxic at first sight?

Trope of the old witch in the house and the kids that keep going to eat, but with a good twist hehe.

The farmer kids seeing Chopper and thinking he's a member of the creatures of the forest and being afraid to ask him to play with them not because they are afraid of him, but 'cause they really want the creature to like them.

They call Chopper "Chop-Chop" and ask him to "teach them his magical potions" and it's so loud and bright that Luffy and Nami and Sanji decide to leave him within the village, so he can defend the farmers and they can go back to him in case of trouble.

Franky is taking care of the ship so he misses most of the action :( but Robin travels to see him multiple times during their time in that kingdom and they cuddle for a few hours before she has to go back ;)

Also, worried Franky in between chapters. He trusts them but he's not afraid of something physical happening to them, you know? It's just that feelings can be as complicated to navigate and such as damaging.

The way he can go with Robin to check the library but after the fire and immediately starts talking about plans on how to make it even cooler and how he'll tell the king/prince all about it before leaving the kingdom.

The captain of the royal guard refers to Luffy as "Zoro's pirate king" most often than not.

The fact the straw hats become a sort of folkloric story around: The Tale of the False Prince and the Pirate King.

A lot of god/king symbolism for Luffy, such as always sitting on that spot of the forest where the sun lands, the little folk thinking he's very "rich and influential", that one scene of his straw hat being carried by the wind to an empty throne, etc.

The queen making a comment about how "Zoro wears the straw hat (symbol) over his heart" in regard of why Zoro won't stay.

When the queen and Sanji are left alone in the cave, because she's too hurt and can't be moved, so Luffy, Nami and the twins go get Chopper. Their conversation that exists under their actual conversation. The hug she gives him when the straw hats and the royal family are saying their goodbyes. The whispered "you do deserve this happiness, embrace it".

Scratch that, all the motherly women that take a look at Sanji and decide to spoil him if only a little.

Also Zoro's beef with every single horse in the kingdom about where they should be heading to because he knows the way better than any horse, uh.

Gosh, Zoro and the kids. They demand to be carried by him or to ride with him in his horse as he walks through the market. When Zoro looks overwhelmed in that party, the captain of the royal guard sends the kid to snatch the fake prince and play hide and seek, an excuse to let him take a break. They cling to him and bow to him and call him "garden prince" for his hair and cry when he has to go.

That very specific moment of Sanji reaching the side of the castle where the kitchen is and looking up to find Zoro on a balcony, dressed in white and sage with details of silver and gold. The lights of the ballroom behind Zoro are barely a soft tan on him, the shine of the yellow moon above haloing his hair. Sanji can see Zoro is there to catch a break from the dancing, one drink in his hand and another on the ground by his boot. Both his elbows and his back rest on the railing, head tilted at an angle that marks his jaw and prevents Zoro from seeing Sanji, even if he wanted to. So for a moment, Sanji stands and looks at him and his mind rushes thinking of what dish he can ever prepare that tastes as bubbling and tense and maddening lovingly suffocating as watching Zoro roll his neck, throw the glass back to drink the content of it all at once and smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling when a childish girlish voice calls him a damn cheater at hide and seek.

[classicanalyzer]

Rings of Power Season 2 - Halls of Stone

"I was in a place like this, but shrouded in mist and darkness, and...I saw-- I-- At first, I thought it was the forge burning. But it wasn't. It was tall... and its skin was made of flames. It came toward me, breathing, reeking of death, and I saw... I-- I saw its eyes. Pitiless and eternal. I think it's been there. I think it's been here among us, all along!" Mirdania

This episode is the best of S2 so far! I really love how the Numenor and Dwarves' plotlines intersect and connect. We see two societies experiencing a major shift and the corruption it leads.

It's chilling how we see King Durin III go from using the Ring to help Khazad-dûm obtain sunlight once more...to demanding tribute from his own people and the other Dwarf Lords. We also have a reminder of how we're getting close to Durin's Bane being properly unleashed as King Durin III ignores his own warnings of digging too deep. Based on what we know of the future, the only "solace" is that while the Dwarf Lords who wear their Rings will have their greed grow, Sauron will not be able to control them as he would hoped.

I continue to love how Durin IV is the only one who notices that Annatar is not who he claims to be. Especially now he sees how his father is changing from a harsh but stern leader of the Dwarves to a more selfish, greedy ruler. He may have retaken the title of Prince but Durin IV is a changed person. Princess Disa has also seen how her support of the Rings may have been a mistake. Especially as she sees the earth shake and an ancient evil that lies deep beneath the mountain. The future for the Dwarves has never been more uncertain despite its apparent prosperity.

It was wholesome to see Celebrimbor proud of the unity between Elves and Dwarves including seeing the Doors of Durin. Narvi is really growing on me as one of the new major Dwarf characters. It's also good to see how Celebrimbor isn't as subservient as Annatar would like him to be.

God Mirdania's description of Sauron is beyond chilling. It truly shows how the forms that Sauron takes as of now are veils to hide the monster he is. His manipulations of Mirdania were also terrifying to see as he pins what she saw as Celebrimbor rather than him. He was also projecting so hard by claiming Mirdania reminded him of Galadriel.

Ar-Pharazôn continues to definitely win Father of the Year. He pushes his son to be an even more evil bastard by withholding information about his mother's thoughts on Kemen. I really love how the conversation is a dark twist of how Míriel talks about the Valar. We also see the true fears of Ar-Pharazôn: mortality. It is subtle but it's there. It also hints at his ill-fated attempted invasion of the Undying Lands. The irony of his rise to power is part of it came from the use of the Palantír...which last we see him, he will now use.

We start to see the beginning of the Faithful and the King's Men conflict. Eärien thinks she's doing this in her brother's memory but in reality if her brother knew what she's doing, he would be disappointed. She also loses her friend Valandil as it's clear which side she decides. I really love how the Faithful Sea Guard continues to refer to Elendil as their Captain. Speaking of Elendil, I really love how we see the hope of Numenor through him which Míriel realizes. However, the vision also might allude to the human sacrifices done by the King’s Men for Morgoth. Season 3 is going to really dark once we reached that Morgoth worship territory.

The Faithful at the oldest shrine putting the candles for the lost souls truly is a sight to see as Numenor's faith in the Elves endures...only to then see the King's Men planning to tear down the shrine for a new aqueduct. I love how Valandil recreated Galadriel's dodges when she taught him how to use a sword. If only Kemen wasn't the worst, he would've done more great things for Middle-Earth, may he find peace. At least Kemen got to know he isn't the real deal as he thought being outmatched by both Elendil and Valandil plus a broken arm. It will be satisfying if Ar-Pharazôn still thinks lowly of his son despite presumably doing what he asked.

ALSO FUCK KEMEN! I hope he drowns when Numenor is swallowed up by the sea. I really like this other karmic fate that his own father would use him as a sacrifice to Morgoth when Sauron comes to Numenor. More tragically (tho given her smug and unrepentant behavior even towards her own father, I wouldn’t say it would be tragic in the traditional sense), I think if Eärien dies, she might also be consumed by the sea...which would be a tragic poetic parallel to how their mother died. But seriously, seeing Valandil die really hits hard because I really liked his character, one of the major Faithful characters now gone. I hope Kemen gets the best kind of karma.

Seeing Gil-galad doubt the Rings shows how uncertain the Rings are. They show glimpses of a possible future. Some of it may be true. But what parts that are true are caused by the path they take? The actions of Gil-galad will determine the fate of Eregion.

It's also heartbreaking to see how despite Celebrimbor's attempt to resist Annatar's insistence for Nine Rings for mortal men. In the end, he gave into it believing they must atone for their slightest mistakes in creating the Seven Rings for the Dwarf Lords. And you can see how the stressful events are getting to Celebrimbor. Unfortunately, the Orc army of Adar has almost reached Eregion. Even the potential alliance between Galadriel and Adar seems to be unlikely as Sauron is ensuring the fall of Eregion once he's done with it. The Nampat and Sauron themes playing during the ending of the episode and end credits hit so hard.

[hadesforpreswrites]

my prince

a/n: listen, i wrote this on a whim and have been thinking about it on and off ever since, so it's yours now internet.

i didn't give my characters a last name but i know their house colors are dark slate and purple, hence the amethyst.

that's really all i have to say, i guess.

banner made by me (i understand it's not the targaryen dragon but i have to work with what i have and what i have is free canva)

pairing: aemond targaryen x reader

genre: fluff, mutual pining

warnings: none

word count: 4,045

summary: prince meets lady, prince falls for lady.

her father, ever her champion, commanded the captain of his guard to train her with her brothers when she began showing signs of wanting to learn. the captain had no hesitations as she learned and quickly caught up to her brothers.

she had no thoughts of marriage, having not met a single soul who entertained her with their speech nor that enjoyed her martial training. that is, until her family visited king’s landing at the behest of the hand, otto hightower. 

upon their arrival to the capital, the girl and her brothers looked at one another, as though passing silent messages to each other, before they were greeted by the hand in the courtyard. they had heard the sounds of training as they exited the carriage and were keen to follow them but they held their ground as their father spoke to the hand. 

after they were shown their rooms, they were permitted to walk the grounds. the three siblings, her and her two older brothers, were shown the way to the training area where they observed the targaryen princes sparring under the supervision of ser criston cole. 

when the younger of the two bested his older brother, the crowd that had gathered cheered. she was struck by the mystery of the man, now hoisting his brother from the ground. she had heard the stories surrounding the targaryen brothers; and so far she knew at least one of them was false. 

she found her eyes drawn to him as the two princes moved to place their weapons on the rack before the older of the two noticed her and her brothers, the colors of their house making them stand out from the crowd. he gripped his younger brother’s arm and drug him to the three siblings as the crowd, no longer interested without a spar happening, dispersed. 

following her brothers’ lead as they bowed, she bowed her head and curtsied as the princes neared them. as she lifted her head, she felt a gaze piercing through her. once her head was completely raised, she dared to make eye contact with the younger of the princes. her gaze was soft but was dancing with mischief, she let a smile play at her lips as she held his gaze, not wavering as he was used to. she watched as the harshness that was so often prevalent in his violet eye dimmed and was replaced with a softness. 

her brothers pretended not to take notice of what was passing between their sister and the one-eyed prince as they continued their conversation with aegon, who was most likely oblivious to it all.

neither of them said anything to the other as their brothers continued their conversation while the group opted to walk through the training area toward another area of the castle grounds. she fell back behind her brothers and prince aegon, opting to walk at her own pace so as to take in the scenery. her small smile grew as she felt the younger prince fall in step with her. the younger of her brothers shot a glance back at the pair, always making sure his little sister was comfortable, before turning the majority of his attention back to his older brother and the older prince. 

“my lady,” aemond started, finally breaking the comfortable silence between the two. she turned and tilted her head to look the prince in his eye, her own dancing with question. “i’m told that you are interested in the history of my house.”

“it’s true, your grace. i have been able to study several of the other great houses, but yours remains much a mystery to me,” she answered, feeling an embarrassed blush creep up her neck and onto her cheeks. her fascination with the house of the dragon had been something she had been trying to keep secret from the members of it; she should have known better.

“most of the histories are kept here at the red keep’s library,” he stated matter-of-factly, his calm demeanor not betraying how he felt on the inside aside from the minute amounts of amusement in his violet eye. “i would be happy to escort you to the library should you find yourself in need of knowledge while you are here.”

he found himself momentarily blinded by the brightness that overcame her eyes at his proposal. in truth, he had another agenda in addition to helping someone learn of his house’s history. he wished to ask her about the amethyst encrusted dagger that swung from a chain at her waist. the color of her dress helped to conceal the dark metal of the weapon but he had seen the sun glint off the purple gems. he didn’t want to bring it to the attention of his brother,  however, so he kept his questions to himself for the moment. 

“i would appreciate that very much, your grace. perhaps tomorrow morning?” she inquired, hoping to not push her luck too much. 

“if that is what you wish,” he replied, fighting a smile of his own. 

her eyes darted to his mouth and offered her own small smile as if to tell him she knew. he cleared his throat and glanced away momentarily. she looked ahead, eyes meeting the back of her brothers’ heads. 

“will your family be joining ours for dinner this evening?” he eventually asked her.

her eyebrows pulled together in thought, shooting him a glance that read she didn’t know before she called out to the older of her brothers. “cedrick,” she said softly, pulling the older man’s attention to her. “do you know if we will be joining the royal family for dinner this evening?”

“i believe father said we would be,” cedrick confirmed with a nod. 

“you will have to teach me that skill of yours, sister,” the younger of the brothers, alix, jested. 

“what skill would that be?” she challenged, eyes narrowing.

the targaryen princes passed an amused glance to each other as they watched the three siblings. they, so far, had not interacted much in their presence and this was not what they had expected. 

“sleeping with your eyes open. i seem to recall you seeming aware as father told us the plans for the first evening,” his tone was playful. 

“awh, yes, that, well, it’s a secret passed down from our aunt. it would betray her memory for me to teach you,” her tone was also playful but aemond couldn’t decide if her words were in jest or were real. 

cedrick bellowed a loud laugh. “alix, you know she was simply daydreaming about-”

the older was immediately shut up by glares from both his younger siblings. she had embarrassed herself enough this evening and didn’t want her older brother’s careless, though with harmless intent, words to embarrass her further. 

“daydreaming about what?” aegon asked, disliking not being in on the joke.

“oh, our little sister has a dream of-” 

“-of seeing the amethyst mines back home,” it was a lie. everyone present knew it was a lie but she was ever thankful for alix’s intervention as it seemed to quell prince aegon’s interest for the time being. 

aemond’s interest, however, had been even more piqued. he may have had an inkling as to what her true dream may be based on her other interests but he would not embarrass her, even if he felt it was nothing to be embarrassed of. 

“there you are!” the group was met with the dreamlike voice of princess helaena. “mother and grandsire are requesting us all to dinner.”

the princess fell beside her and prince aemond as the group made their way to the feasting hall. “has aemond invited you to the library yet, lady y/n? he said he would.”

it was his turn to blush as she answered, “he did! we’ll be going tomorrow morning.”

“before you meet with him, would you have breakfast with me? it has been some time before i had a woman to dine with other than mother.”

“i would be honored. it will be the perfect time for me to give you the gift i brought,” she smiled at the princess.

“excellent, i will have someone bring you to my chambers in the morning,” the princess said, thoughtfully as the group reached the feasting hall. 

the doors opened to reveal the king, queen, hand, and their father already sitting at the long table. the three siblings bowed to the king and queen as they reached the table and the targaryen siblings took their seats.

“welcome,” queen alicent said, kindly, causing them to rise and then take their seats. 

cedrick was across from prince aegon, alix across from princess helaena, and y/n across from prince aemond. their father was situated across from his friend, the hand. he passed his daughter a glance, checking her well-being. he knew she could very well handle herself but she reminded him so much of his own little sister, whose death he had come to blame himself for. 

throughout dinner there was nothing but comfortable conversation between the families, as though there were no titles separating them from each other. the princess and y/n were fast friends, causing aemond to internally smile as he watched them talk to each other. 

after dinner came to a close, the family was escorted to their chambers. y/n felt a gaze on her as they parted from the royal family, turning her head she was met with that one violet eye of the prince. the smile she gave him, unbeknownst to her, would carry him through the night.

~

the next morning found her very quickly as the sun streamed through the windows of her room and ladies’ maids made their way in to help her get ready for breakfast with the princess. she grabbed the slim velvet box that held the gift she brought for the princess as she left her own room and was escorted to the other side of the castle. it felt nice, she thought to herself, to be doing something on her own; without the watchful eyes of her brothers and/or father.

breakfast with the princess was calm and filled with good conversation as the previous night’s dinner had been. as they were finishing their meal, y/n gestured to the velvet box. “may i give this to you, princess?” 

helaena’s eyes lit up as she nodded. y/n opened the box to reveal a darkened metal bracelet adorned with amethyst stones. neither woman heard the door open, nor the quiet footsteps of a man approaching. 

“it belonged to my aunt,” the man stopped. he had heard stories of the aunt in question. she had been a skilled warrior, trained with her brother under the watchful eye of their parents. of course, hearing of her victories always led to tails of her downfall, a husband who came to envy her and was under suspicion for her death, an attack marred in subterfuge.

“i cannot take this,” the princess said after admiring the bracelet. 

“please, princess. it would be an honor for you to have it, to wear it. i have its sister and no one to match with. take it as a symbol that our families will remain friends,” she smiled at the blonde princess as she plucked the bracelet from the box and gestured for her wrist. “there,” she said, securing it before showing her own. “see?” the princess smiled at her.

aemond decided to make his presence known to the two women with a quiet cough.

“aemond! look!” the princess motioned for her brother to come closer and examine the bracelet.

“very beautiful,” he said, lifting his gaze slightly to look at the gifter. she wasn’t paying attention, looking off in the distance, something plaguing her mind. her eyes were brimming with tears that she thought no one could see.

“lady y/n?” his voice was closer to her now, almost in her ear.

she blinked quickly and shook her head of her thoughts. tears dropped from her eyes when she blinked, causing her to widen her eyes in shock. “your grace, i apologize.”

surprising even himself, he gently lifted a hand to her face swiping his thumb over her cheek wiping away the tears. “there is no need for apologies,” he said quietly. “come,” he rose to his feet, offering her his hand. “my sister had to tend to her children.” his mannerisms were softer when not in the presence of their brothers; maybe it was because he felt sorry for her, maybe because he was thankful to her for gifting his sister something so meaningful, or maybe it was because in the very short time they had known each other he found that he had grown to care for her.

she hadn’t noticed that the princess had left the two alone until he mentioned her absence. shyly, she slipped her hand into his. she felt warmth spread through her hand, up her arm, and up her neck to her cheeks. he gently, and with ease, pulled her to her feet before letting go of her hand after giving it a small squeeze. both of them felt the warmth dissipate. 

he started to the door, throwing her a soft glance that said to follow him. the pair walked for some time before either of the spoke. 

“that was a kind gift you gave my sister,” aemond said, quietly.

she smiled softly but did not say anything for a minute, seemingly composing herself. “it’s the only thing i have that is truly mine to give. and the only thing i have that is worthy of a princess.”

“helaena will treasure it,” he replied. “and you,” he said so quietly she barely heard it.

he coughed. “you are much different when your brothers aren’t around.”

she let out a breathy laugh. “they require a different presence from me in order for me to keep up with them when they’re together. are you displeased with the shift, your grace?”

aemond shook his head. “no, my lady. i think i understand. cedrick seems as though he can be difficult.”

“you are too kind, your grace. cedrick is a pain on a good day,” she said, laughing.

aemond, too, cracked a smile. he’d never been referred to as “too kind.” 

“alix, feels a sense of helplessness when it comes to him, unless it is regarding me.”

“he does come across as very protective of you,” aemond observed.

“now he does. growing up he hated the idea of a little sister, until i started to show an interest in swordplay anyway. cedrick only trains because he is supposed to.”

“that is something i can understand. second sons often have to become masters in their chosen interest where first sons-” he cut himself off. “forgive me, my lady. i should not burden you with such thoughts.”

she placed a tentative hand on his forearm, causing him to halt his steps. “it is a difficult thing to carry burdens alone, your grace.”

“and who do you allow to help you carry your burdens, my lady?”

she removed her hand slowly. “perhaps one day we will both find someone to confide in.”

the pair continued toward the library in silence from there. it was a comfortable silence but it made aemond begin to think about her words. perhaps she could be the one he could confide in, the one he could say things that may one day be considered treason. he thought that he certainly could help carry her burdens if only she asked. 

“here we are,” aemond announced as they arrived at the closed door to the library. he pushed the heavy wooden door open and secured it so it would not close them in alone.

he watched as her eyes widened in awe as she took in the number of books on the shelves and that were stacked on tables. “where do you recommend i begin?”

he handed her a tome and the two of them sat in chairs facing each other. they read for a couple of hours, the only breaks in silence when she would ask him to pronounce and translate a word that was written in high valyrian. he had made barely any progress on his book because he was enamored with watching the excitement in her eyes grow as she moved through the passages. 

when she finished the large book on targaryen history, she sighed as she closed the heavy book. he also shut his book and leaned forward. “may i ask, my lady, about the dagger you keep on you?”

she smiled as she sat the book on the table between them. she unhooked the dagger from the chain around her waist and set it on the book, gesturing for him to pick it up. he unsheathed it and admired the blade. “another relic from your aunt?” he inquired.

she shook her head. “it was a betrothal gift from my father to my mother.”

he sheathed the dagger before looking up at her, questions floating in his eyes.

“my aunt told me that every suitor my mother had would gift her jewelry. beautiful pieces made with utmost care, specifically for her. my father wanted to stand out more, even though they had known each other all their lives.”

“so he gifted her a dagger?”

she laughed lightly, “the women in my family, both sides, have always shown an interest in weaponry. most men find that an unattractive quality and try not to encourage it.”

“is that why you are not betrothed to anyone, my lady?”

“partially, your grace.”

he quirked an eyebrow. “partially?”

she smiled shyly and quietly said, “none have truly captured my interest, until very recently. and father is allowing me to have a choice in the matter.”

she was almost too quiet for him to hear properly, but he did hear her. he let himself think that it was he who had captured her interest as she had captured his. he handed the dagger back to her, her fingers gliding over his own causing a heat wave to surge through his arm. he leaned back with a quiet cough. she quietly hooked the dagger back to the chain.

she sat gazing around the room, taking in the decorations as well as reading the titles on the book spines that she could see from her position. when her eyes landed on one that she was interested in, she stood and walked over to the shelf. she was disgruntled to learn that she was just short enough that she could not reach it. after watching her struggle for a few moments, aemond stood and leaned over her to pull the book. her back touched his chest as he pulled the book down, lightly at first. when she felt the warmth from his chest she involuntarily leaned into him. his arm was wrapped around her as he brought the book down in front of her, into her hands. 

“my lady,” he said quietly, barely above a whisper.

“my prince,” she replied as audible as he was. it was the first time she had addressed him as such since they met the day before and he reveled in it. 

before he could stop himself, he felt himself start to lean towards her as she was looking up at him. her breath was lightly passing over his lips. he wanted, no needed, to know what her lips tasted like. she let her eyes flutter shut as he leaned closer, lips ghosting over hers.

there was a cough from the door of the library. both jumped back from each other and turned to see the culprit. a blush crept onto both of their cheeks as they saw alix standing in the doorway, smirk playing on his lips. “just checking in on your studies, dear sister.”

“they are going quite well,” she said, a bite that hadn’t been there previously making its way into her voice.

“i can see that,” he smirked one last time before he turned on his heel and left the library, satisfied that he had on the one hand, stopped the prince from maybe taking advantage of his sweet sister and on the other hand, he had vexed her ever so slightly.

“my apologies, my lady,” aemond said, gruffly as he made his way back to his seat.

“there is no need for apologies, your grace,” she said quietly. 

he looked up at her, still standing in her place. “it would have been untoward of me.”

“it would have been welcomed,” she said, turning her head so that he barely heard her. she straightened herself, book in hand, and moved to sit in her previous spot. “my brother will not tell anyone, your grace. you have my word.”

“i’m not concerned about me. opinions about me are rampant. i’m more concerned about you.”

“do you think less of me?”

he was taken aback, “no.”

“i don’t care for the opinions others so long as you do not think of me differently.”

“you are a rare woman, indeed, my lady.”

~

over the coming weeks, the two had grown closer, spending much of their shared time in the library. he had begun to teach her a little high valyrian, which she was quick to pick up. she would even make an appearance during his training with ser criston cole and his brother. her brothers joined the two princes on many occasions. she did not practice as she did not wish to cause a stir with the queen.

on a particularly rainy day, lady y/n was entertaining princess helaena with her presence causing aemond to be alone with his thoughts. they were to return home in the coming weeks and he did not wish to part with her yet, not without the promise of seeing each other again.

“mother,” he began almost as soon as he stepped foot in his mother’s sitting room. 

she knew what he was to ask so she gave him her full attention. 

“i believe i have found a match for myself,” he said, staring out of the window.

“you believe?” queen alicent said.

“no, i know i have. i cannot bear the thought of her leaving and never seeing her again.”

“have you spoken to her about this? she seems quite taken with you as well,” the queen said. “surely, she would like to know how you feel.”

in truth, the queen had already spoken with the lady’s father about this match. she was told that the choice was ultimately hers to make, something she felt she could not argue with.

“would you approve?” he asked his mother. not looking for a royal answer but one from a mother.

“i would, dear boy,” she answered him.

~

she had found her way to the library by herself today, after spending much time with the princess. she did not pull out a book today but instead sat in one of the chairs facing the window to watch the rain, feet pulled under her. she did not hear him come in, nor hear the door close completely behind him.

he stood behind her in silence, watching her watch the rain, before he spoke. “my lady,” he said softly. 

she did not startle as she turned her gaze toward him. almost as though she had expected him to show. “your grace.”

he sat next to her. he felt himself nervous, something he was not used to. “my lady, i wish to speak to you about something.”

she turned her full attention to him. “anything.”

his gaze softened as he took her hand in his. he handed her a dagger, made of valyrian steel with red rubies encrusting the handle.

suddenly, she knew. and she smiled up at him.

“i cannot bear the thought of you leaving without the promise of seeing you again,” he explained. “tell me you want me the way i want you,” he all but begged.

“my prince,” his heart skipped a beat. she brought his hand to her lips and placed a chaste kiss to the top of it. “i will always want you.”

he didn’t stop himself as he lunged forward to press his lips to hers, her hands meeting his face in a caress.

[malt-rants-and-stuff]

MALT today I was maladaptively daydreaming (as one does) about kghr fantasy AUs and I was thinking... an assassin AU would be neat. But why would one of them be an assassin and how would they actually meet.

This thought process leads to -> what if hirano became Kagi's body guard but all along he's supposed to assassinate him in the end -> wait a minute.. betrayal... I've seen the name of a similar concept somewhere... -> Knight's betrayal??? -> WAIT A MINUTE WASN'T THERE A MALT AU CALLED KNIGHT'S BETRAYAL AU

WHAT IS THE KNIGHT'S BETRAYAL AU, MALT, I NEED TO KNOW MORE NOW THAT I REMEMBERED I'VE SEEN YOU TAG IT BEFORE

okay first of all, that sounds like such a fun au and the timeline between all of your thoughts is hilarious lol

second of all, don't think I've ever actually fully explained what's up with knights betrayal on here oops. that's on me haha I'm used to just letting people guess what my brainwaves mean. I'll try my best to explain!! continuing under the cut :)

okay so the basic break down of knight's betrayal is that kagiura, a child of a famous and well-respected family of knights, spends his days guarding the third prince of his empire (niibashi) after war has broken out on the eastern half of the continent. he was sent there by his family a year prior to keep him away from the harsh realities of battle and has stayed there until now.

hirano, on the other hand, is a different story. having grown up working for a lesser known noble's household and being drafted at an early age, hirano is a talented swordsman forced to retreat from the front lines after being mortally wounded and losing his left eye. he is given a choice by his captain afterwards: either retire early and be taken back to his old household, or work as an inside man to send information back and forth from the battlefield to the palace. stubborn and not willing to return to his old life, he chooses the latter.

this all leads up to their first ever meeting, when hirano walks into the palace where niibashi lives and delivers a message to his staff while kagiura is standing guard by the prince's side. there isn't much to say about this meeting, since afterwards kagi leaves with niibashi while hirano is taken to the medical wing to receive proper treatment for his eye and other wounds he gained while traveling. then they dont see each other for at least another month and a half ^.^

my main thing with KB is that i want it to be short but feel large, so the story takes place over a large span of time and is only about 20-30ish chapters give-or-take? lots of it is still drafts and things probably will change so i wouldn't get attached to that figure but yeah. it is just generally an excuse to write kagihira as two people who seem to be similar but are from such wildly different backgrounds and hold such different views of the world that it leads to them misunderstanding a lot about their relationships and conversations haha. also gay ass knights.

then, of course, there is the betrayal that comes along with knight's betrayal. Obviously. i will say that the politics are a huge part of the story, but kagiura "unreliable narrator who has been sheltered by his family and never been made to see real battle" akira isn't really focused on all of that. he is aiming for his strangers to lovers mysterious bad-boy with golden heart romance and is not about to let things like "lineage" and "suspicious behaviors" get in the way of that. unfortunately for him, hirano has not gotten the memo and will use every opportunity to sniff out strange faces and rumors that hold a little too much weight.

there's plenty of other things too, like sasamiya bakery romance and shirahama starting a great revolt. there's a side story i wrote ages ago that i have to resist spoiling centered around hanzawa the bookkeeper and tashiro the informant. kuresawa and his girlfriend are acting out romeo and juliet across the continent. poor bodyguard ogasawara is trying and failing to keep archivist eimi from lighting things on fire in the name of her sacred tomes. makimura gets arrested for slandering the emperor. everyone is having a bit of fun :>

the exciting thing about KB's story that has me frothing at the mouth though is that it is in the very end a Tragedy. not in a "everyone is going to die" way necessarily, but everything happens for a reason. everything has consequences. everything.

i'm so excited just getting to talk about it tbh! its been such a silly little thing in my mind for the longest time so its awesome to get to share a bit of it :)))

[levi501ackerman]

Steel Heart Chapter 33: Steel Heart

Hange x Reader Chapter Index Masterlist AO3

Megan's Note: After Steel Heart I will not be posting long fics on tumblr. I started my new job earlier this week! and here's some other good news<3 I'm going to study abroad this summer!!! I'm so excited!<3<3 This chapter opens the flood gates for the rest of the story!! I've always had act 4 planned out and so mfing excited to get into later chapters YUM!! Thank you so much for reading <3

Posted: 1/31/25 (on AO3) Posted: 2/4/25

Word Count: 7.7k

It was Levi who suggested to the King that you get help and learn how to cope with the stress and traumatic events you endured. When Nanaba informed The Queen and her King of the incident of you puking all over yourself while meeting Prince Marco Bodt, there was no doubt you would start seeing Doctor Grisha Yeager. 

Upon entering a private room in a higher part of the castle, you instantly recognized him. He was the man with glasses who was in the room when you visited your mother. It wasn’t hard to figure out by his last name and the color of his hair that he was Eren’s father . . . and Zeke’s.

Doctor Yeager’s first question was how you were feeling after the aftermath of meeting Prince Marco and the humiliation instantly returned. It was like you were back in that moment. The moment when your stomach couldn’t throw up anything else besides the traces of yellow bile and the rain had drenched your hair and face. Makeup stained your cheeks and everyone in the room had difficulty breathing with the foul putrid air. Armin took off his chestplate for you to cover up and protect your dignity. Sasha hid your face in her chest as you held on to her while she, Annie, Nanaba, and Armin guided you back to your chambers. You were more annoyed and angry with yourself that your body reacted in that way. There was no grace or humor in the memory, just the lack of control—no autonomy for your body or destiny.  

The room had four large windows on adjacent walls, which allowed the midday sunlight to come in. The room itself had a dark atmosphere. Its walls were a deep shade of maroon, and the furniture, such as Doctor Yeager’s desk and coffee table, was made of dark oak. The couch he wanted you to sit on was cool to the touch, and the dark leather stuck to the sweat on your arms, causing you to cross them. Doctor Yeager commented that, based on your body language, he thought you were guarding yourself. 

You explained about your arms sticking to the leather couch, but he still believed you were guarded. Who shares their entire life story upon meeting someone right away, anyways? Or at least their deepest thoughts. He only knew what Commander Dame Hange Zoe spoke about during the formal debriefing meeting, considering he read the report,

“Growing up in Shiganshina is different from the castle.” Doctor Yeager’s statement sounded more like a question—like he wanted you to share about your childhood, but he continued. “I grew up in Shiganshina along with my son, Eren Yeager, one of the knights that escorted you.” 

“Oh,” his lack of mentioning Zeke was interesting and reminded you that Eren told you they weren’t close. “He was nice.” He stared at you with a pleasant smile and crow's feet on the sides of his eyes. He didn’t encourage the conversation and instead, the silence lingered uncomfortably long. What was even more uncomfortable was the way he didn’t take his eyes off you, waiting for you to share more. “I wasn’t very close with him, but I’m glad he survived.” 

“Who were you close with?”

“Captain Levi,” You didn’t dare to say Hange first. “He helped Sir Zacharius get antibiotics and when we found each other, he gave me food after not having any for weeks.”

“And what about Commander Hange?” With his question, it felt like there was a target on your back like there were people within the stone walls infiltrating the private conversation between you and Doctor Yeager. Armin Arlert should be just outside the door, along with many guards, waiting and watching for strange activity. 

Although Doctor Yeager told you that everything that was spoken between the two of you stayed between the two of you, you would never dare to risk the fate of Hange. Your reply or anything you spoke relating to Hange could be evidence that led to further suspicion. No trail should be left to investigate. 

“I was close with Hange because they were the only other woman. We shared a tent and they were very nice to me. A friend I’ll have forever.” The words flowed out easily.

“Lady Nanaba informed the King you asked for Hange while you were feeling anxious about meeting Prince Marco. Would you tell me why them?” You couldn’t tell if he had a suspicion for a lead on your relationship and knowing you had a secret was suffocating like everything you did and everything you said could lead to exposing Hange’s treason. There was a pinching pressure on your hands and upon the bony landmarks on your knuckles, you realized how tightly you gripped your hands. 

“Hange helped me calm down when I was stressed.”

“In what way did they help?” He raised his eyebrows behind his circular-rimmed glasses. 

“They . . . they reminded me to breathe deeply—you know—in through the nose and out through the mouth . . .” Doctor Yeager itched the skin along his collarbones, tugging on the brown fabric of his vest to reach the spot. 

“Diaphragmatic breathing is a good technique; it helps make you feel in your body more . . . Have you heard of the three three three technique?” He stood from the couch and walked around the dark oak coffee table to offer you a hand. 

“I-I haven’t.” You took his rough hand and he guided you toward the window. 

“It is very simple,” Doctor Yeager guided you toward one of the four large windows. “When you are in your head and feeling anxious, I want you to ground yourself and be aware that you are not experiencing what you are thinking. Look out these windows.” He said and the clear sky made the castle have a bright glowing essence from the sun shining down on the white stone quartz. “Let’s start with three things you see.”

While you gazed out over the City of Mitras and the peaks and roofs of the towers, you weren’t sure if Doctor Yeager was looking for diverse answers. You could have said three different parts of one tower or the different tops of the towers you saw. The cone-shaped roofs, the flat, and the lookouts were all dispersed in the view. Doctor Yeager’s office was so high in the sky that there was an overwhelming vast number of choices below. It was eye-opening to realize how Mitras Castle majestically dominated the landscape. The dark blue roofs of buildings you passed in the city looked like mere pebbles beneath your feet. The tops of the wall surrounding the city were visible and the movement of guards on the lookout was like a tiny army of ants. When you’re above everyone, you can’t help but look down on them. 

What caught your eye again was the awkward, dull tower reaching for the heavens. From a higher view, you could see a large opening near the top, appearing to be like a window. The very peak of the tower was above where you were and you noticed the crenelated dull stones circumferencing the top of the tower. 

“That . . . dull tower over there,” you pressed an index finger against the glass. “ . . . And the flag of my family on that tower over there, and . . . and the person—that knight walking on top of the wall over there.”

“Good. Good.” His voice drew your eyes from the window to his friendly blue eyes. His entire body, from the top of his neatly combed hair down to his brown shoes, faced you. The entire time, he studied you. “I am glad you looked at this view and took a moment to appreciate it. Your Highness, it is a privilege to see this much of the world . . .” You cast your eyes back at the grand landscape. Just past the wall was a dewy meadow with traces of decaying memories with Hange. From where you stood in Doctor Yeager’s office, the river running south and east were glimmering stripes of blue. “When you are in your head and thinking of the horrors you encountered, I want you to look at three things in your surroundings. Then listen for three things you hear and move three parts of your body.” He noticed how you furrowed your eyebrows while peering through the glass. “You can roll your wrists, roll your ankles, stretch your neck, stretch your quads, touch each finger with your thumb, something that makes you physically feel yourself in your body.” 

You nodded, absorbing every word and recognizing the reality of needing to stand on your own two feet. The crown was not on top of your head yet the weight of expectations was planting you in the ground, burying you in the soil. Even as you reach for the air, begging for relief or searching for Hange’s hand, no one helps and no one knows you’re struggling to breathe. 

“Thank you, Doctor, I’ll try this technique.” The dull tower caught your eye as you returned to the indentation on the leather couch, warmed by an hour or so of sitting. 

“I am sorry you were blindsided with this life.” He said, “Being in hiding in Shiganshina and then all of a sudden the Marleyan Cult destroys the district and intends to hunt you . . .” You thought he was going to say more, but he didn’t. It was like he wanted you to finish his thoughts by adding your personal anecdotes or your opinion on the position you were in. The comfort in the silence withered away as Doctor Yeager waited for you to say something. The urge to speak was jabbing you at your side, pestering you, but within the last hour, you grew tired of reliving the horrors. “Before you go,” He spoke with a more uppity tone, “I wanted to pick your brain on the topic of your medical history.”

“Okay . . .”  

“Do you know if you are allergic to shellfish?” He lowered his voice.

“I’m not sure. I never had shellfish . . .”

“No crab, oysters, lobsters, scallops, or prawns?” He leaned forward.

“No, why?” Doctor Yeager stared at you for a moment and you could tell the gears in his head were turning.

“Again, I want you to know that everything we speak about in this room does not leave this room.” A foreboding feeling in the pit of your stomach stirred. “I am going to tell you a secret that must remain between you and me.”

“Okay . . .” 

“Will what I tell you stay between us?”

“Yes, it will.” You said, intrigued by his manner. 

Doctor Yeager sprang from his spot on the couch and hurried to his desk. He pulled out a white folded cloth and gingerly held it between his hands. 

“I have been taking care of your mother since she had fallen ill.” He whispered and glanced at his office door as if someone were to intrude at any moment. “For a while, I thought she had caught a flu or a disease . . . the number one reason she is dying is because she can barely keep the food down and she’s dying a slow death of starvation. I thought she had a stomach illness until this morning . . .” Doctor Grisha unfolded the white napkin until a tiny speck of a dark bent specimen, scarcely thicker than a sliver of a fingernail, was revealed. “His Majesty and I found this while feeding her mashed potatoes.” He looked for your reaction, but you couldn’t quite figure out what it was. It looked like a burnt stem of spinach or a single piece of dark thyme. 

“What is that?”

“A cricket leg,” He whispered. 

“What . . . ?”

“This stays between you and I.” He leaned forward, his lips inches from your ear as your eyes remained on the cricket leg. “I do not have any evidence besides this, but I have an inkling that Her Majesty did not fall ill randomly. She has been poisoned by someone mashing crickets into her food.” 

“What?!” Your eyes grew wide at Doctor Yeager’s disgusting speculation. He held a finger to his mouth, shushing you and his words paralyzed you. 

“Your mother is allergic to shellfish . . . when you are allergic to shellfish, you are likely to be allergic to cockroaches, grasshoppers, and crickets.” Your stomach twisted at the implication of his words. The thought of someone insidiously poisoning the Queen—your mother—tugged on your heartstrings. “I did not flag her illness as an allergic reaction until the person slipped up and left a cricket leg in her food. From now on, the King and I will examine her food thoroughly and hopefully, she will stop throwing up and slowly get the nutrients her body needs to heal. I suggest you inspect your food thoroughly.”

“Dr. Yeager, do you think I may have thrown up yesterday because of crickets in my food?”

“Maybe, but based on what Lady Nanaba told the King and what the King told me, I think that was because of your anxiety. We could gather more evidence, but I suspect that because Lady Nanaba said you vomited on your way to the Castle. You also have not mentioned or shown any other symptom of being ill.” His words slightly eased you, but simultaneously, you dreaded your next meal. “That being said, this stays between you and me. We can not have the person sneaking crickets into her food know that we know.”

You nodded, assuring Doctor Yeager had your trust. 

“It has to be someone in the kitchen, right?! You should suspect Niccolo because he’s from the Marleyan Cult!”

“Niccolo? The blonde knight from Karanese District?” You wished you had kept quiet. Your hasty accusation was dumb. 

“I—yeah . . . nevermind, I—I don’t know why I said that . . . He was a member of the Marleyan Cult and one of the moles until he betrayed the cult and helped Commander Hange and Captain Levi.”

“He couldn’t be a suspect because your mother was poisoned before he came to the castle?” He said more like a question and you heard the curiosity in his tone, wondering why you thought Niccolo to be the culprit. 

“Yeah, I—I don’t know why I thought of him. He wanted to work in the kitchen and I just—I just—sorry, I don’t know . . .” You shrugged.

“I understand you may be on the fence about anyone relating to the Marleyan Cult, but not all of them want to harm you. Some were born there. They had no choice in the environment they were born in. The Queen loved Annie like she was her own daughter. How are you getting along with her?” Like an owl, you slowly turned your head, processing what Doctor Yeager asked. Like she was her own daughter. You blinked rapidly as if each flutter of your eyelids would erase his words. Annie barely spoke a word around you, and she did not seem like she was a person who outwardly tried to befriend people. Like she was her own daughter.

“She’s okay . . . why?”

“She is from the Marleyan Cult and she acts like a normal girl because she is a normal girl who happened to be born in the Marleyan Cult.” Doctor Yeager said, too casually to your liking. 

The dim room where your mother rested flashed in your mind and the words echoed, drumming against your bruised ego. I wanted you to grow up with me . . . I wanted to be a good mother. A sharp pinch stabbed the palm of your hand, and you unclenched your fist upon noticing. Though she told you it was never her idea to send you to Shiganshina, why would you be sent to Shiganshina just for another girl to grow close to her? 

Sir Armin Arlert could tell you were uptight about the thoughts coiling in your head because his glance grew more concerned while Lady Nanaba droned on about the schedule for the award ceremony. A flare in your chest burned at the thought of Annie being a member of the Marleyan Cult and being close to your mother. Like she was her own daughter. Your parents sent you away to Shiganshina only for them to bond with a member of a cult that wanted to treat you as a host for their ritual. A cult that killed many knights in gorey painful ways, trying to protect you. A cult that burned down your hometown. A cult that killed so many knights at the temple, leaving only a few survivors. A cult that sent mutts to attack you and many horses. 

When you entered your chambers, Annie was the first girl to come into view. The small blonde girl didn’t appear harmful or like she had any malicious intent, yet there was a thick divide compelling you to keep her at bay. You glanced away from her, diverting your attention to the large rabbit hopping toward Armin. 

As Annie brushed your hair, she held the ends and gently untangled the few knots. Her heavy lids hovered over her uninterested eyes and her impassive face sparked a bitter thought. She probably didn’t look so uninterested in your mother. You clenched your jaw, staying silent, while the thought festered inside. Like she was her own daughter.

You huffed.

She glanced at you in the mirror of your vanity but didn’t react to your blatant annoyance. It irritated you how she didn’t ask if you were alright or if something was weighing on your mind. Annie might have been concerned if your mother was in your current position, but instead, Annie combed your hair. Perhaps the Marleyan Cult taught Annie to be sweet and helpful to those who will grant her more information or access. Maybe Annie didn’t care to extend the courtesies because, in her mind, she was close to the Queen. Like she was her own daughter.

“Lady Nanaba?!” You called for her and her heels clicked on the cream-colored tile.

“Yes, your Highness?” Nanaba elegantly greeted from the door’s threshold.

“My mother will be at this award ceremony, correct?” You said louder than you normally spoke.

“Yes, however, due to her health, she will not be at the rehearsal. The award ceremony will start when Her Majesty arrives.” Nanaba pivoted to exit your dressing room, but you spoke before she could leave your sight. 

“Nanaba, will you please request to my mother that I would like to start having dinners with her—even if that means I eat at her bedside.” Nanaba’s eyes floated to the ceiling, contemplating your request. 

“I will be sure to ask, your Highness,” she said politely and left. 

The comforting thought of growing close to your mother warmed your heart. It settled the jealousy that festered within you as Annie combed your hair. A sliver of guilt twinged in your chest of how your mother ached for your presence and longed for a connection with you. At the time, there was only sympathy for the ghost of the relationship that lingered in the air, haunting your mother. But with the change of heart sparked by jealousy and engulfed into compassion, you realized that you craved to be close to her.  

Annie parted your hair down the center and tied your hair into a neat bun. When she was done, she set the brush on the white wooden vanity and crossed her arms. You turned your head, examining how slick the bun was and not a single strand escaped. 

“Thank you,” you politely said, feeling like you owed Annie. Sasha chose an all-white outfit down to the white boots that were hidden by your white slacks. You wagered with Annie and Sasha, wanting to wear boots to hide your dagger inside. The matching white double-breasted blazer over a white mock neck brought attention to the warmth of your face and the gloss of your hair.  

Sasha and Annie trailed behind you and Armin, who followed Lady Nanaba through the endless corridors lined with guards. A few clouds floated over the extravagant City of Mitras and the bright day lifted your spirit, giving you a seed of hope that sprouted and grew with each step. A moment to speak with Hange—to hear their voice was well earned after being apart from them. There was no doubt you were going to have their full attention. You refused to end the day without basking in their presence. 

Nanaba escorted you to another small waiting room with four imposing guards standing like statues against the light green walls. They kept a keen eye on you, ensuring your safety and well-being. Two small, slender windows with half the height of the wall framed the dull, tall tower in the distance. Nanaba encouraged you to sit while she disappeared behind another set of doors opposite where you entered. You placed yourself on the plush couch, facing to view the mysterious tower. Armin stood beside the sofa while Annie and Sasha stood next to the door you entered from. 

“Hey, Armin?” You spoke barely above a whisper, worried that your voice disturbed the silence that fell. 

“Yes, your Highness?” You pointed out one of the windows.

“What’s that tall tower over there and why is it separate from the main area of the castle?” Armin flickered his blue eyes to the view. 

“That tower? The First Fritz Tower? It is separate from the rest of the towers because when the first Queen Ymir Fritz had the King and the slaves build the castle, they miscalculated the center of the walls and built that tower. It is so tall you could scream as loud as you want and no one below will hear you; maybe the hospital ward could. Many rendezvous occurred there; however, it is looked down upon to enter.”

“Rendezvous?” You had to stifle a smile that grew from the thought of sneaking off to meet Hange during the late hours of the night. With only the stars to keep your secret and the moonlight illuminating your path. “So there were no guards or knights to catch the people sneaking off?”

“Correct. There are guards in that area of the castle now, but no one enters because it is looked down on.” He repeated and your scheme deflated into a mere fantasy.

Lady Nanaba returned with an older man with a pointy chin dressed in a black clerical robe with gold encircling the collar of his robes. His stern eyes sunk into his skull and his high-strung stature was unwelcoming. Nanaba beckoned you with an enthusiastic hand to approach. The older man remained in his unbreakable stance. 

“Your Highness, this is Pastor Nick he will be officiating your marriage with Prince Marco—”

“The walls.” He said and you weren’t sure if you heard right. “The Queen devotes herself to the well-being of the walls hence, you are marrying the walls—Maria, Rose, and Sina and all of the citizens within.” 

His insistence lacked a playful tone and the sheer absurdity of his implications of ‘marrying walls’ conjured an amusing image in your mind of you in a white dress and puckering your lips to kiss the concrete of Wall Sina.  

“Yes, of course. " You looked to Nanaba, hoping she would gracefully contribute to the conversation, but her downturned eyes observed you and Pastor Nick with no intention of joining. “I look forward to my marriage to the citizens and dedicate my loyalty to the well-being of the citizens of Paradis Island.” 

He seemed pleased, and you were pleased with the formality of your declaration as well. A union between you and the citizens within the walls seemed far more fulfilling than marrying a man. 

You, Sasha, Annie, and Armin followed Nanaba and Pastor Nick down a short, windowless corridor. Muffled chatter echoed from behind the doors and your heart brimmed with anticipation. Just behind that door was Hange. 

When Nanaba cracked the door, a sliver of light and a crescendo of conversations spilled into the hall. A vast sea of guards dressed in military robes drowned the clean rectangular hall. As you entered the threshold, voices died down and faces drew their attention to you. Most of them were unrecognizable and their burly figures gave the illusion that most of your vision was filled with grey double-breasted coats with silver epaulets. Your eyes darted around, searching between the columns along the room's perimeter and the grey uniforms for a green coat. Simultaneously, the knights in the room stood tall and stamped their feet together while pressing their right fists over their hearts. Their undying respect settled in the silence, greeting your presence. With the castle guards still like statues, two green uniforms caught your eye to the right. Hange stood behind a podium upon a raised platform and next to them was Levi. Hange had their hair tied back and their warmth contagiously ignited a spark in your chest and a flutter in your stomach. 

An older man stepped toward you. His heavy footsteps on the light blue tile demanded your attention. He had greying facial hair and glasses perched on his big nose. 

“Your Highness,” He said with a deep voice while bowing his head and revealing his receding hairline. “I am Premier Darius Zachary.”

“Your Highness, Premier Zachary is the Head of the Royal King’s Guard and The Scout Regiment.” Lady Nanaba said. 

“Pleased to meet you,” you offered him a polite smile and drifted your eyes to where Hange stood. He offered his thick arm, beckoning you to join him. 

While Premier Zachary informed you on the structure of the award ceremony, he led you toward the platform where Hange stood. His voice withered in the background while the desire for Hange’s voice polluted your thoughts. The room returned to chatting while inconspicuously glancing at you and Premier Zachary. Hange looked down at the podium, scanning their eyes and mouthing words. The three large windows behind them framed the blue sky, making their green coat bold and saturated. Their coat complemented their dark brown hair, drawing your eyes to their face. Hange peeked at you, fueling the burn inside you. 

Hange was like fire, captivating and luring you to stare. A flame so gravitating it burned through your layers and left you with nothing but a primal instinct to surrender your eyes. A flame, bright and mesmerizing, compelling you to follow them in the darkness. 

After an hour of rehearsing the transitions between the segments of the award ceremony, members of the court arrived. They strolled in with vibrant gowns and men in flattering suits. They stood behind the rows of guards, chatted among themselves, and glanced at you from where you sat in one of the three thrones. Red and green flags with insignias of the Royal Family and the Royal King’s Guard hung from the ceiling.

Armin stood next to you while Commander Erwin Smith, Captain Levi, and Commander Dame Hange had their backs toward you as they stood silently at the base of the steps. Connie, Eren, Niccolo, Miche, Daz and Fairy Godmothers Christa and Ymir stood in the front row silently. Your leg bounced up and down, wondering when the Queen and her King would arrive. You were told to sit until you were part of the ceremony, and people-watching was the only thing you could do while waiting. 

Sasha and Annie stood patiently against the wall off to the far left and the wait for your parents started to plant seeds of doubt. More time passed, and annoyance grew with the fact that the Queen and her King had not arrived yet. The court whispered among themselves, speculating why Their Majesties were late. 

Your thoughts drifted off to Hange. Each time you looked toward Hange during the rehearsal, they were already admiring you. Their fond stare simmered in your memory and you couldn’t help but blush. You lowered your head, hiding your face and the heat that grazed your skin. 

Earlier, when Hange kissed the back of your hand upon greeting you, their lips pricked and poisoned you. Their touch embedded a drug that hardwired you to succumb to their will and obey their commands, and you wanted to do nothing else but please them. 

While Premier Zachary instructed you with the medals, you could feel Hange’s eye on you and the magnetic demand that lured your souls to want to be close. They ached and begged to be intertwined. Your mind and soul pestered you to get more attention from Hange. It teased you the way you had Hange’s professional attention and yet were unable to have a private conversation. 

A door on the side opened and the room went silent. The King, followed by a group of knights and one knight with red hair, who you recognized, strolled into the room. Everyone seemed to stand straighter and lend their attention to him. 

You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering if your ill mother would enter through the door, but it was the King and his guards. Your heart pounded in anticipation, wondering if she would arrive, and the image of her dull skin stretched over her bony cheekbones and hollow face flashed in your mind. She must have been too sick to be able to attend. 

The King whispered in Premier Zachary’s ear and then stepped up upon the platform without sparing a look at you. You couldn’t read his face, but he didn’t seem distraught or fazed. He stood behind the podium and took a deep breath. Everyone pridefully brought their fist to their heart.

“Good afternoon,” The King’s voice echoed through the room. “On behalf of Her Royal Majesty, I thank you for witnessing this monumental ceremony honoring the knights who have dedicated their hearts to return the Princess to Mitras Castle.” He took a breath. “I would like to invite Premier Zachary.” He simply said and the room applauded his opening remark. The King caught your eye as he turned to sit on the throne next to you. He had a friendly expression and hope flooded your chest and you gave him a large smile, enjoying his polite attention. 

Premier Zachary heftily stepped up the stairs to the podium and passed the table with the awards laid out. He cleared his throat and you glanced at Erwin, Hange, and Levi. It was amusing how Erwin and Hange towered over Levi. 

“Knights formally pledge an oath upon graduating from the Cadet Corps and being inducted into the Scout Regiment.” Premier Zachary began the speech you heard twice earlier. “In the oath, one of the key vows that the Knights commit is to have ‘relentless courage.’ This was the inaugural vow penned by our First Queen, Ymir Fritz when she established the pledge. When Knights are inducted into The Royal King’s Guard, they recite the traditional oath, augmented by an additional commitment: to lay down their lives and dedicate their hearts to this nation's sovereign. 

“Today, we honor and commemorate the Knights who bravely sacrificed their lives confronting the horrors of our world, as well as those who dedicated their hearts to safely returning Her Highness to Mitras Castle.” 

Premier Zachary continued his speech, talking about how the knights defeated the enemies and you noticed he never forwardly said “Marleyan Cult.” He refrained from addressing the name, preferring not to highlight the significant power they had in claiming the lives of numerous knights. 

You noticed a familiar man with dark hair among the crowd and recognized the man. Prince Marco and his guards were in the front section of the court. You darted your eyes away and your heart thumped in your chest. You wanted to pretend you didn’t see Prince Marco Bodt in the crowd. 

“I now invite the Knights to please kneel before the King, Her Highness, and myself.” Premier Zachary said and it was your cue to stand from the velvet red throne. The knights in the front and Levi and Hange gathered in their designated spots on the steps. Footsteps shuffled and echoed through the room and you could feel all eyes on you as you grabbed the first medal from the wooden table. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are honored to present the first medal today for outstanding contributions to technological advancement. This award recognizes the creator of the sapphire shields, a pioneering technology that has significantly enhanced our protection against fire. With the help of this technology, this individual defeated a powerful enemy. Please join me in applauding the recipient of the Sapphire Heart to Commander Dame Hange Zoe.” The room burst into applause, and you pinned a gold medal with the insignia of the Royal Family, which was held by a vibrant blue ribbon on Hange’s green military coat. Your hands shook being so close to Hange and you couldn’t ignore their stare. Hange kissed the back of your hand and you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to hide the thrill from their touch. 

“The next medal is bestowed upon an individual who exemplified extraordinary valor and courageously positioned themselves in the direct line of danger to shield the heir to the throne. Their heroic deeds not only ensured the safety of our future ruler, but also served as a profound inspiration to their fellow soldiers. Please join me in applauding the recipient of the Gold Shield to Captain Levi Ackerman.” You pinned a gold medal with a white ribbon to Levi’s coat and he kissed your hand like a gentleman. 

“In recognition of their successful completion of a critical mission, we are proud to award the Knights that kneel before the King, Her Highness, and myself an emerald pendant. This esteemed token symbolizes their undying commitment. We honor their bravery and service as we present these awards to Commander Hange Zoe, Captain Levi Ackerman, Commander Miche Zacharius, Eren Yeager, Connie Springer, Daz, and Niccolo. We must also recognize Jean Kirstein, who unfortunately cannot be with us. Currently recovering in the hospital, we wish a healthy recovery for Jean Kirstein and we look forward to celebrating his achievements with him at a later date.” As Hange leaned forward to allow you to place the bolo tie, you noticed the gold chain of the swan locket wrapped along their neck. It sent a satisfying jolt through you to know Hange still wore their necklace. 

You followed the advice Premier Zachary gave during rehearsal while placing the bolo tie with the oval emerald pendant around the knights. He advised you to take your time during this segment, allowing each knight to have a moment to be honored. It felt like you and everyone else were frozen in time as you moved from the table to each of the knights. You avoided glancing at the crowd, not wanting to break the mental barrier that shielded the reality of everyone’s eyes on you. 

There was a heavy lingering feeling as you awarded each knight. An undying gratitude for the well-being of these humans who protected you and rescued you. Your heart swelled at the bonds you formed during the journey and trials you faced together. These knights deserved your trust and loyalty and had a spot in your heart. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, this next medal represents profound respect and demonstrates resilience during the mission. This medal recognizes the individuals who sustained physical injuries sustained in battle but also honors the spirit of sacrifice. Please join me in applauding the recipients of the Purple Heart to Commander Miche Zacharius, who served his rotation in the First Knight position. Another recipient to recognize is Jean Kirstein. As I said before, Jean Kirstein, unfortunately, cannot be with us.” You pinned a gold medal with a purple ribbon upon Miche, who kissed your hand charmingly and held his cane in the other hand. 

“The final medal we present today honors not only the brave knights kneeling before the King, Her Highness, and myself but also those who are no longer with us. Their legacies continue to inspire courage to dedicate their hearts. In addition to today's honors, we will build a memorial to honor the brave knights. A plaque will permanently etch the one hundred and ninety-two names of the fallen. It will be prominently displayed as a reminder of the hearts they dedicated for the future of the Kingdom. Please join me in applauding the recipients of the Steel Heart to the knights whose legacies we honor and to the knights kneeling before the King, Her Highness, and myself.” The applause was the loudest of the entire ceremony. It continued the length of you pinning the silver medal with a white ribbon on the knights’ uniforms. 

After your duties, the knights returned to their positions in the front row and you returned to your throne. While you glanced at the King, you noticed his expression was softer while he looked at you. He gave you a respectful nod and upon his approval, you offered a graceful curtsy. You hoped after the award ceremony, you would be able to speak to your father. 

Hange stepped behind the podium and waited for the applause to simmer down. When the room fell to silence, Hange’s voice projected through the room.

“I, Hange Zoe, Commander of the successful mission, will now read the names of the knights who sacrificed their lives during battle. I ask for your patience as I read one hundred and ninety-two names of the knights. At the end, we will respect the knights whose legacies and memories we will carry with a brief moment of silence.” 

━━ ⊱ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ ♡ ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⊰ ━━

After the award ceremony concluded with Commander Erwin Smith’s closing speech, your father and his guards walked out the door without acknowledging you. You watched the door close behind his guards and your face fell as the opportunity to grow close to him disappeared before you could try. 

The hall sprung into a commotion as guards and members of the court congratulated the knights. You looked to Armin beside you, wondering what to do. Armin attentively stared at you, watching for you to stroll and socialize around the room. His eyes drifted next to you, looking past you. You turned over your shoulder to see Daz. When he had your attention, he placed a fist over his heart and respectfully bowed his head.

“Your Highness,” He spoke. “We have not gotten a chance to speak.” 

“Daz, may I give you a hug?” He opened his arms. You carefully laid your face against him, avoiding getting the makeup on his uniform. “I’ve been wanting to thank you for bringing Jean to Mitras Castle. It must have been terrifying being on your own, along with having someone unconscious.” 

“It wasn’t too bad.” Daz pulled away. “I did have to do everything on my own, which is extra work, but overall, we managed to get to the castle.”

“You’re so brave . . .” You gently grabbed his hand and held it comfortingly. “Not many people could do that. I couldn’t travel by myself and with an injured person. Thank goodness I had you and the rest of the knights. Seriously, Daz, thank you.”

“It was an honor to escort you . . . most of the way to Mitras Castle.” He laughed at his own joke and you giggled. “It’s not hard to travel, especially since most of my travel was north. I followed the north star to the southern entrance of the castle.”

“I forgot you were into stars and stuff!” You gushed with excitement. It was quite intriguing how the stars in the sky had ways to help. You recalled the night you first saw Willy Tybur in a suit of armor covered in blood. After you woke everyone up and an investigation started, Levi mentioned Daz was going to try to find a clear view of the sky so he could figure out the time by the position of the stars. “It’s fascinating how you could tell the time of night based on the position of the stars!”

“You think that’s ‘fascinating’? I could teach you.”

“Yes, please!” 

“If you think that is cool, do you know what a solar eclipse is?”

“No . . . ?”

“You’re going to like this. In a few new moons, the moon will cross in front of the sun and block the light for the Earth. The thing is during this upcoming solar eclipse, Mitras Castle and the city will be in the path of totality. The world will briefly go dark for us like it’s midnight!” His eyebrows were raised and his eyes were twice their size due to his enthusiasm.

“That is cool!”

“Exactly! This phenomenon is extraordinary and it’s wonderful we get to experience it soon.”

“Please, Daz, I would love to learn more and speak with you about the stars and the solar eclipse! Would you like to have tea in the garden sometime? Or wherever would be good to talk about the stars.” 

“We could meet in the library in the astronomy section sometime?” He smiled at you. You turned to Armin with excitement and then returned your attention to Daz. 

“That sounds great!” You exclaimed excitedly.

Across the ceremonial hall, Hange huddled along with Levi and Miche. They spoke enthusiastically, waving their hands at the rhythm of their words and they had an adorable blaze in their eye—a spark that compelled you closer. Their amusing way of speaking warmed your heart.

Hange’s brown eye landed on you and Armin, making your heart swell as they abruptly stopped their conversation and gave you their full attention. Miche and Levi turned over their shoulder to see you. Hange briskly went toward you. Their brown hair was shinier and a pink tint spread across their cheeks. Your heart pounded as they held their arms open for you. 

Without a care in the world and you sprang on to Hange and they wrapped their arms around you, challenging anyone who dared to take you away from their embrace. The dangers of the past and the responsibilities for the future burned to a crisp with the engulfing flames of Hange’s presence. 

Their warmth contagiously spread to the shivering soul that longed for comfort. You breathed out the stress and the humiliation of the recent days and settled in Hange’s arms. They pulled away and you greedily wanted to be held longer. If Hange’s soul was like fire and you’d happily burn in the heat. 

“Hey . . .” Hange said under their breath, and a moment passed when their gaze entranced you, and then you spoke.

“Hi . . .” 

“You did wonderful in the ceremony, Y/N,” Hange complimented. “And your ladies in waiting dressed you very well.” They didn’t hide their lingering admiration for the elegant white slacks and blazer. Hange’s eye traced each surface of your body all the way back up to your beaming smile and pretty eyes. 

“Thank you, Hange . . .” 

“You did very well during the ceremony, your Highness.”  

“I missed you, Hange.”

“I missed you too, dear,” they whispered, and their reassurance nested a bed for peace to rest in your thoughts. 

“I miss my best friend. I’ve been wanting to see you—”

“Let’s plan to meet, Y/N,” their mutual enthusiasm brought a burst of joy. The daydreams of meeting Hange secretly in the garden at midnight or meeting Hange in the First Fritz Tower were on the verge of reality. A private moment with them was all you wanted.

“We have to! I still have the shirt you lent me.” Hange smirked. 

“Oh yeah? Why haven’t you sent a servant to deliver my clothes? Or are you secretly being a weirdo and smelling my shirt?” You slapped their arm and—

“Your Highness, you shouldn’t hit others.” Armin’s voice ripped you back into reality where you and Hange stood in a crowded room with knights, military representatives, and Prince Marco Bodt—wherever he may be. You glared at Armin. 

“Let’s meet tomorrow. I’ll take the entire day off and I’ll tell you how I sent the blueprint to Stohess and I should receive a prototype soon.”

“Can we have breakfast together?” You were practically hopping, unable to contain the excitement of getting what you’ve been wanting. “I’ve been eating all by myself! The King eats with the Queen in the hospice chambers, so I am all alone.”

“We can have not only breakfast together but lunch and dinner!” Hange nudged you. A set of doors brushed open, with Nanaba entering hastily. 

“Would you like to have tea in the garden? Armin took me to the Rockefeller Garden and he said the Korcula Garden was the best place to have tea.” 

“He’s right. You’d like the Korcula Garden, Y/N. There are plenty and beautiful flowers we can look at when we’re done catching up.” Your heart fluttered at the thought of Hange thinking of all the things you would enjoy. They thought about you as much as you did for them. “How are you treating Armin? Have you been giving him a hard time?” Hange playfully asked and glanced at Armin next to you. 

“Rai doesn’t like him!” You giggled and Armin stared helplessly as the truth set in that an adorable bunny didn’t like him. Hange joined your giggling and their contagious nature made both of you grow into a fit of laughter while Armin stood silently. Hange’s eye glossed over and they wiped the tears that formed while you caught your breath from being unable to breathe. 

“Why not?!” Hange asked and their face was flushed.

“I don’t know! She stands on her hind legs and taps the shins of Armin’s armor, trying to attack him. She’s more adorable than ferocious!” Nanaba cleared her throat next to you. Her eyes were wide and she had droplets of sweat along her hairline. Her mouth agape as if she were going to speak, but the words struggled to leave her lips. 

By her high-strung demeanor, the joy was sucked out of the room and an ache in your chest returned. Lady Nanaba looked between you, Hange, and Armin and the chatter in the ceremony hall faded into the background with her words. 

“You need to come with me.” She urged and annoyance tricked in.

“Do I have to?” You whined and bargained hopelessly, knowing Nanaba would force you to do whatever was next on the schedule.

“Your Majesty . . .” Hange and Armin simultaneously gasped at how Nanaba addressed you. Hange brought a hand over their mouth and their eyebrows shot to their hairline. “You need to come with me.” 

chapter index masterlist

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Against the Tide - Eighteen

Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x Original Female Character, Silvio Ricci x Original Female Character Characters: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez (Bleach), Silvio Ricci (Ikemen Prince), Olivia DuBois (Original Female Character) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergent, Pirates and Princes, Slow Burn, Action/Adventure, Worldbuilding, Angst, Some Subtle Racism, Sexual Tension, Political Subplot

Previous Chapter: Seventeen | Next Chapter: Nineteen

Chapter Masterlist

Summary:

He turns back to face her. "You gonna go see him?"

She knows the 'him' he's referring to. "I suppose I should," she starts slowly. She looks down at their linked hands. "I… I know it's probably going to sound silly, but I feel like he at least deserves an explanation. I would want one if I were in his shoes."

He offers her that gentle smile again - the one that seems to be just for her. "Just one more thing I love about ya," he murmurs against her forehead before pressing a kiss there. "I'm gonna go back to the Cat for a while," he adds. "If ya feelin' up to it later, feel free to join me."

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“Have you seen Olivia?” Bluntly and without any preamble, the Prince asks Daisy the question, catching her slightly off-guard.

“Not since we docked this morning,” Daisy answers truthfully. “She told me she was going to visit someone, but she didn’t say who or where that person would be.”

He sighs. He isn’t at all familiar with the island of Vora and would have no idea where to begin searching for Olivia. “If you see her, tell her I’m looking for her.” 

“I will,” she promises with a smile. 

--

The sun is starting to set by the time Olivia and Grimmjow get back to the port. They run into Daisy first, finding the young lady with Kenny, enjoying dinner at the inn they’ve put up in. 

“Oh, Lady Olivia,” she exclaims, just as Kenny straightens up in his chair and says, “Cap’n…” 

“At ease,” Grimmjow laughs, dropping Kenny a knowing wink. 

Daisy’s face brightens when she sees the way Olivia’s fingers are twined with the Captain’s. “Oh,” she remembers suddenly, the smile dropping from her face. “I’m supposed to tell you that Prince Silvio was looking for you.”

Olivia and Grimmjow exchange a glance. Something unspoken passes between them, something Daisy can’t quite pick up on. “Where is he now?” Olivia asks after a moment. 

“He’s in his room, I believe,” Daisy says. “Number nine.”

“Thank you Daisy, I appreciate it.” 

Kenny is still sitting ramrod straight, eyeing his Captain curiously. “Cap’n? You need me?”

Grimmjow shakes his head. “Have a good time,” is all he says, grinning mischievously. 

Olivia looks back at them as they walk away. “She really likes him,” she sighs. “I hate that they’ll be separated soon.”

Grimmjow shrugs. “Might be they won’t,” he counters. “Both of them are free to do what they please.” He turns back to face her. “You gonna go see him?”

She knows the ‘him’ he’s referring to. “I suppose I should,” she starts slowly. She looks down at their linked hands. “I…I know it’s probably going to sound silly, but I feel like he at least deserves an explanation. I would want one if I were in his shoes.”

He offers her that gentle smile again - the one that seems to be just for her. “Just one more thing I love about ya,” he murmurs against her forehead before pressing a kiss there. “I’m gonna go back to the Cat for a while,” he adds. “If ya feelin’ up to it later, feel free to join me.”

Olivia watches him walk away, bracing herself for the conversation she knows is coming before heading in the direction of the stairs. 

--

He answers the door after the first knock. When he sees it’s her, he says nothing - he just steps aside to allow her entrance. 

“Daisy told me you were looking for me,” Olivia says quietly, standing in the center of the room. 

“Where were you all day?” He motions to the table in the room, and she sits in the chair across from where he’s apparently been sitting. 

“I went to see my old governess,” she explains. 

He joins her at the table, filling the glass on the table with rum from the bottle sitting there. After a moment, he reaches for the other glass and pours a generous amount of rum in it too, sliding it across the table to her. 

“Thanks,” she says, taking a sip. 

“So. You’ve been fucking him.” His words are quiet, his tone flat.

“That’s a crude way of putting it.”

“But am I wrong?”

Olivia takes a deep breath, her eyes on the amber liquid in the glass. “Will you listen to what I have to say before you respond? I need… I need to get all of it out. Before I lose my nerve,” she adds, that last bit whispered so low he barely hears it. 

“You? Lose your nerve?” A smile twists at the corners of his mouth, bitter though it is. “I doubt the odds of that happening. But if that’s what you want,” he goes on, “then that’s what you’ll get.”

“I never wanted to be Queen,” Olivia starts. “I had this idea in my head that I wasn’t equal to the responsibility that involved. I kept thinking about my father and the burden he carried when he was Prime Minister, and how difficult it was for him when Vora and Clario were at war… being the only one to make decisions, being the sole bearer of responsibility for Vora’s political well-being. It was all I could see whenever I thought of being your wife. It felt heavy, like I was being suffocated under the weight of that title. It was all I could see, so much so that I let it get in the way of how much I loved you.

“I still don’t… think it’s something I could do, to go into something knowing one day that responsibility would be mine. And I don’t know what you think of all this, what Jarron Barnes is suggesting for Vora’s future,” she goes on. “But I hope you wouldn’t think less of me for wanting to be a part of the group that decides on that future… on my terms.”

His mouth twitches as if he wants to say something, but he holds his tongue and keeps his blue eyes trained on her.

She’s grateful for his silence, because it is this last part that she needs to say the most. “I’m really and truly sorry for what I did to you, Silvio. Despite all the years of bitterness and every ugly word that we’ve thrown at each other, I don’t hate you. I never have. I buried my feelings for you, even when those feelings were of the love I should have shown you. I was sure you wouldn’t want anything to do with me after I jilted you, and for that I can’t blame you---”

“Be quiet,” he cuts her off. “Just… be quiet.”

“Silvio?”

“If all you’re going to do,” he starts, enunciating every word slowly and carefully, “is tell me that you regret what happened between us in one breath only to tell me you’re choosing him in the next breath… then don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t fuck around with my heart, Olivia.”

For so long now, she has been accustomed to the way they interact with one another - hateful words thrown at each other, their tongues dripping acid as they hurl vitriol up in the air between them and wait for the aftermath of those emotional bombs. She looks at him now, and there is an honest vulnerability in his expression that she has not seen in a very long time. 

“Oh.” The word falls from her mouth softly, followed by silence. She isn’t sure how to respond to what he’s said. She looks down at her glass. “I just… I thought you deserved an explanation.”

He looks away from her. “Don’t blame me if he fucks it up,” he says bitterly. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’m sorry,” she says again, an ache in her chest.  

“You do realize that we’re going to have to work together,” he goes on, his gaze focused on some point behind her. “If things go as planned with Vora’s new government… and you decide you really want to be a part of it, you and I are going to have to work together.” 

“I know,” she concedes. “And I was hoping that we could. Without…” She takes a deep breath. “Without animosity.”

“I would assume all your training taught you how to separate your personal life from your duties,” Silvio says flatly. “If you can’t remember that, I can’t help you.” He lifts his glass to his lips, downing the contents in one big gulp. “Get out,” he says softly, and it’s sadly reminiscent of the same words he said to her not long ago. “I don’t want you here anymore.”

--

She’s crying quietly into her hands, and he pulls her close to him, enfolding her in his arms. 

“I’m sorry,” she sniffles, her words muffled. “It’s awful of me to be here with you, crying about another man.”

Grimmjow shakes his head. “Cry if ya need to, Sae,” he tells her, rubbing her back soothingly. 

“I made a mess of everything, didn’t I?”

He laughs in that easy going way he has. “Wouldn’t say that.”

She’s grateful for the lie, even though she knows that’s exactly what it is.

--

“So you chose the pirate.” It’s the way Barnes greets her when she joins him at his table the next morning. “I guess that means you jilted the prince… again.”

She ignores his jab. It hurts. “We have a lot to talk about,” she says, seating herself across from him.

“Will you at least let me finish my breakfast?”

“You’re smart enough to do two things at once, aren’t you?” She raises an eyebrow at him. “And anyway, I’ll start - you don’t even have to talk. Just listen.”

He looks back at her warily, but says nothing. 

“I’m going to accept the offer to be a part of Vora’s new ruling party,” she starts. “But not under your conditions.” 

“What makes you so sure I’ll agree to anything but my conditions?”

“Your hands are tied,” Olivia tells him reasonably. “If you want anything resembling a normal life in light of everything you’ve done. And by ‘everything you’ve done,’ I mean all the laws you’ve broken. Your choices are limited. You know it, I know it, and Prince Silvio knows it.”

He narrows his eyes at her. “So what exactly are you suggesting?”

“The same thing I’ve been suggesting this whole time,” Olivia laughs. “Come back to Clario and present your case to the King. Let him hear you out. Be prepared to accept punishment and give restitution for the ships you burned and looted.”

“You want to see me in a cell for the rest of my life,” he grumbles. 

“I don’t,” she answers truthfully. “I want to see Vora get what you want it to have. But if you want to be a part of the group responsible for its well-being, you need to set a good example. You need to be the sort of person who can own up to his wrongdoings. The people won’t trust you otherwise.”

“That’s all well and good to say, but you know as well as I do what will happen once the King passes judgment on me.”

Olivia shakes her head. “Lucky for you, I won’t mention anything about the kidnapping. And I heard from a reliable source that whenever you looted and burned a ship, you let the crew go - either so they could become your men or so they could go elsewhere. If you haven’t killed anyone, it may just be a matter of restitution.”

Barnes doesn’t look fully convinced, but he says nothing in rebuttal. 

“In addition to that,” Olivia goes on, “Prince Silvio might be able to get the King to be more lenient on you than previously implied.”

“And then what?”

She sighs. “I’m giving you what’s probably going to be your best-case scenario right now,” she points out. “This could all have the potential to go horribly sideways, and despite what you think of me, I don’t want to see that happen.”

“You really mean that?” He leans forward, his gaze riveted to her face.

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

Barnes shrugs. “You don’t have anything to gain from offering me the best-case scenario.”

“Not true,” she counters. “Like I said before, I think what you want for Vora is a good thing. And while I may not agree with the way you initially went about trying to get it, I don’t think it’s too late to rectify that.” She pauses thoughtfully. “Being here again has made me remember what it was like to live here. No amount of years spent living in Clario can erase the fact that this is home to me. So if you really want to do what’s best for Vora, and you want to go about it the right way - which doesn’t include threatening to plunge it into another war it can’t win - then why wouldn’t I do everything I can to see that through?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, assessing her. And then to her surprise, he starts to laugh. “I wonder what might have happened if your family hadn’t left Vora.” 

Olivia shakes her head. “I stopped thinking about that a long time ago.” 

“Why?” 

“Because,” she shrugs, “thinking about that would’ve driven me crazy.”

--

When she gets back to the room, Grimmjow is exactly where she’s left him: still naked and half-buried in the sheets. His gaze follows her as she crosses the short distance from the door to him. 

“You got up early,” he remarks lazily. 

“Mmhm,” she agrees, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I went down to talk to Jarron Barnes.” 

“Yeah?” He raises his pale eyebrows at her. “Good talk?”

“Good talk,” she agrees. “I’m starting to get the hang of this, I think.”

“Natural born leader.” He says it as he reaches for her, curling his arm around her waist and pulling her closer. She lets herself be pulled, finally ending up on her side, nose to nose with him. “Bed was cold without ya.”

“Was it?” 

“Yeah,” he smirks. He rolls onto his back, taking her with him until she is resting on top of him, the sheets bunched between their bodies. He looks down at her. “I been thinkin’,” he starts. 

Olivia reaches for him, her fingers laced together behind his head to bring him nearer to where she wants him, inviting him to stay in that narrow space between her thighs that, if asked, Grimmjow would say feels like his own little slice of heaven. “Tell me,” she whispers, right before closing the last bit of distance between her lips and his. 

“Tryin’ to make every thought fly right out my head, I see,” he chuckles, when they’ve broken the kiss for air. His mouth is smiling, but Olivia notes the seriousness in his eyes. “I wasn’t lyin’ when I said you make me wanna become an honest man, do right by ya,” he asserts. 

“Grimm…” She trails off. “I told you, you don’t have to---”

“Yeah, I know,” he interjects. “But I wanna. Sae, you’re a proper noble lady. Might not act like it most of the time---”

“Hey,” she butts in warningly. 

“---but that don’t mean I ever forget it,” he continues, playfully nipping at her earlobe. “I ain’t sayin’ I can completely give up this life I’m so used to,” he goes on with a wry smirk, “but I wanna do less of the kinda shit that might make people look sideways at ya if they know I’m yours.”

“I don’t care what other people think of me,” she says stubbornly.

He smiles at her. “I know. But I do.”

Olivia opens her mouth to protest, but one look at his expression and she closes it. It’s clear that he’s made up his mind, and trying to change it would be an exercise in futility. 

“Fine,” she relents finally. “But promise me you won’t give up all the naughty things you do on account of me.” 

This makes him laugh again, a quiet rumble this time. “Naughty things?” He repeats, drawing back from her to look at her suggestively. “Like what I’m plannin’ on doin’ to ya now?”

“How naughty is what you’re planning to do to me now?”

“Come outta these,” he grins, tugging lightly at the laces of her clothes, “and I’ll show ya.”

Previous Chapter: Seventeen | Next Chapter: Nineteen

Tag List: @chrissie2003 @kryptoniteforsale @pamakali

[lorendiel]

' i'm interested in bein' more than just your friend. '

( tomokae screamer en pleno 2024 🥺👉👈 )

𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ; serenity falls around as the night fades . and when tomo speaks - an innocent laugh escapes . ringing true - kaeya cannot help but find humor .

perhaps the wine had been assimilated within system at a faster rate - 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 thinking had found him once more . he ought to have his senses checked out ; how is it that he heard tomo say just that ?

𝐈𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞.

yet - each conversation / each lingering moment within them both, had turned electric. Had it not ? How is that tomo had found him, after ALL these years, once more ?

. . . the 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 prince allows himself a gaze towards them ( he is feeling rather 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘺 after all ) - bathed in moonlight, tomo looks . . . beautiful . . . Stern features, soft only around kaeya himself .

“ tomo - “ the captain begins,

there. there it was once more - the electric senses within the gap between them . eyes devour the guard before him & being a 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 meant nothing in this moment. discipline was a mere word because truthfully . . . he ached for Tomo.

𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨.

Kaeya succumbs and he finds comfort in their LOYALTY. Tomo belonged by his side, just as the moon revolved around the sun.

“ stay still. “ his voice comes out soft - gentle murmur 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 a command to the one who held his heart. Icy fingers trace the other’s features - their skin was hot, electrifying. Kaeya places his hand under tomo’s chin - holds them carefully before the space between them collapses, lips meeting at last.

all he can taste, hear, sense is tomo, tomo who tastes of cinnamon, who is soft - tender.

Kaeya is a moth attracted to the flame and he decides that he will gladly 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.

“ come back home with me. no one is there.

𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦. "

/ @visionkept

[balteren]

{Manny Jacinto, 37, cismale, he/him} We are so glad to see you safe, PRINCE LORENZO TOLENTINO OF CHINA! It’s dangerous out in the world these days, but I hear that you are DEVOTED and SENTIMENTAL enough to handle it. Just don’t let your INSECURITY bring you down! Stay on your guard, because with your secret being at risk for exposure, you wouldn’t want everyone to find out YOU ASSASSINATED THE CHINESE EMPEROR.

cw: abuse, violence, murder

Name: Prince Lorenzo Tolentino Aliases: Lory, Lenzo Country: China and The Philippines Gender/Pronouns: cismale, he/him Sexual/Romantic Orientation: bisexual, biromantic Age: 37 Occupation: Prince, former navy captain  Faceclaim: manny jacinto Inspiration: roman roy (succession), fleabag (fleabag), zuko (avatar: the last airbender), gonzo (the muppets) (hear me out) Loyalties: china Pets: a dapple-grey trakehner mare named farallon

tldr; At his core, Lorenzo is a kind, understanding man, so deeply desperate to be loved and liked and affirmed. He oscillates rapidly between arrogance and self-doubt, oftentimes completely blurring the two. He tries to be funny, to keep people smiling, but often neglects himself in that regard. Not great at being vulnerable or emotional, actually actively avoids it. Enjoys going out for rides, training, hunting, fishing, sailing. Incredibly soft on the inside, takes everything very personally, and is deeply guided by emotion- even if he mistakes it for logic.  

backstory: “I think you know how to love better than any of us. That’s why you find it all so painful.” It is a curse to have so much you long to forget, when you remember everything so vividly. The Tolentino household was a battlefield, and from an early age, their father made it clear that there was always a winner and a loser, no matter how low the stakes. A home where affection was earned, not given freely. A home where love was a privilege that could be taken as easily as it was given. A home that turned Lorenzo and his brother into rivals, not family. A home that only felt the suffocating fog of their father lift after their mother did what Lorenzo wished he had the courage to do.  Life with their new family was better, even if he found himself caught in the same cycle. He never knew why he’d always go running back to the source of his pain, as if the table scraps of affection he received from the emperor would ever be enough to feed him. Convinced he could earn the pride and love of the emperor if he could just be enough, Lorenzo joined the Chinese navy the moment he was of age. For years, he was devoted to making something of himself, and by the time he was 35, he’d seen the world, garnered respect from his fellow sailors, and become a war hero. For a moment- no matter how brief impossible- he believed he’d return home to a joyous welcome.  After spending time away from the navy at Lal Qila, Lorenzo decided he’d been away from court long enough, and would seek to collect on the decades of goodwill he had been planting. Bringing his most trusted friend for support, he approached the emperor to ask if he could return home, take a job at court, have a marriage arranged, and live a life as a prince, son, and brother, not a soldier. The conversation devolved into an argument, and it wasn’t long before the emperor recognized his stepson’s seething anger, daring him to do something, fully convinced the boy he'd raised to be subservient would back down. He did not.  Swords were drawn, and the two traded a few blows, but when he could have taken the deciding strike- one that would have disarmed the emperor, rather than killed him- he hesitated. Suddenly, he was a little boy, staring at his step-father, desperate for his love, physically unable to harm him. In that moment of hesitation, the emperor dealt a heavy blow to Lorenzo. Upon hearing his sword clatter to the ground, his friend stormed in, ready to defend intervene. When Lorenzo found his feet again, he realized his step-father would not stop, that someone would not be leaving the room alive. When the fight was over, he felt some relief- he had not turned into his father. He had turned into his mother.   Lorenzo, horrified at what had transpired, resolved to admit his actions to the new emperor immediately. But before he could make it to Angelo’s chambers, he and his friend were caught by a frenzied guard and ushered to a safe place, told that a group of rebels had stormed the palace- an event later termed The Reckoning.  In their hideaway, Lorenzo and his friend devised a story. The emperor was dead- there was no changing that- but the universe had handed them grace. Who were they to deny it? The story practically told itself: an emperor cornered but still fighting, attempting to defend himself, and struck down by the shadowy, nameless enemies. It was a story that was easy to believe after the horror of the Reckoning. 

now:  Lorenzo is struggling to reconcile his feelings of guilt, relief, and more surprisingly- grief. He is still desperate for love, still desperate for affection, still unsure what it means to look for those things in the darkest, most dangerous places. And though he loves his brother with every ounce of himself, he has started to recognize the look in his eyes and the games that he plays. Slowly, but surely, he is realizing the emperor is not worthy of his title. Lorenzo hasn’t acknowledged the idea as more than a passing thought, but part of him is wondering why Angelo should stay on the throne at all. Wondering why he couldn’t make a better emperor. Lorenzo is a kicked dog who has finally realized he has teeth- and they are sharp. 

[prairiesongserial]

23.1

“We’re not paying you anything,” John said, brow furrowed in confusion. He had sheathed the knife in his belt, however begrudgingly. “We’re kidnapping you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” the boat’s captain said cheerfully. “We can negotiate the fee for the short notice if your story is good enough.”

Val could see the plan for leaving Southend-On-Sea crumbling in front of his eyes. Though it wasn’t like he and John had any alternative–there were no other boats docked in the harbor, so they’d had to make do with this one, eccentric captain and all. John had originally suggested tossing the captain overboard, or leaving them tied up on the docks, but Val had rightfully pointed out that neither of them knew how to sail. The captain had to come with them. He just hadn’t expected said captain to be noncompliant.

“John, will you go get the boys?” Val asked. Removing John from the equation for a moment seemed the fastest way to de-escalate. He could sense John itching to take out the knife again. “I’ll negotiate payment.”

John gave him a hard look of protest. Val met his gaze and held it steady, refusing to blink until John did. Finally, John exhaled hard through his nose and turned to disembark the boat.

“It’s been a long week,” Val said. “I’m Valerie. Val, if you prefer. That’s John.”

“Cassidy,” the captain said. To Val’s surprise, they offered him a hand to shake. Their grip was stronger than he’d expected.

“I should be straight with you, Cassidy,” Val said. “We don’t have any money.”

Cassidy snorted. “Right. Queen’s guards with no bribe money on ‘em. That’d be the day.”

Ah. The uniforms. Val had almost forgotten.

“We’re not really guards,” he said. Too late, he realized it was a position he could have used for leverage, but the impulse towards honesty had won over.

“So you are spies,” Cassidy said, eyebrows creeping up their forehead.

Val frowned. “I never said that.”

“Well, if you’re not spies and you’re not the police, what are you?”

“Two Americans trying to leave England,” Val said, shortly. He was losing his patience quicker than usual; something about staying up all night did that to a person.

The boat shifted underfoot–John had returned with the princes and was helping them aboard. Gawain stared around in wide-eyed awe as he was lifted onto the deck, running to the rail to look down at the water. Percy, by contrast, looked mostly annoyed to have been woken up. He had a pink imprint of the backseat of the car across his face.

“Is this the boat we’re taking?” he asked. His tone made it clear that the boat did not meet expectations.

Cassidy had gone silent; a quick glance in their direction revealed that they were white as a sheet, staring at the two boys now ambling around the deck of their boat. They opened their mouth, closed it again, then appeared to seriously consider what they wanted to ask before they asked it.

“Are those the missing princes?” they settled on, finally.

“Yes,” Val said, because there was no point in denying that now. “So you can see why we need to leave–”

“You’re the kidnappers the Queen has been looking for?” Cassidy cut him off.

“Well–no,” Val stammered. The question had caught him off guard, but he supposed it was the right one, considering how he and John had approached Cassidy in the first place. He needed to choose his words carefully if he was going to defuse this situation.

“Would you believe we just found them?” he asked.

“I would not,” Cassidy said.

“It’s what happened,” John said. Apparently he had decided to participate in the conversation again. He was keeping an eye on Gawain and Percy from a casual, though strategic position. He stood between Cassidy and the princes, and also between Cassidy and an exit. 

“We were in an accident in the tunnels under London, and the group that kidnapped the princes happened to find us and take us in,” Val said. It was the most succinct way he could explain it without sounding crazy–if Cassidy wanted the fine details later, they could get into it then. “We didn’t know they had the princes, at first, but then we found out, and we offered to help get them somewhere safe. They can’t go back to the palace. The Queen wants them out of the picture.”

“Not that I’m a fan of the Queen,” Cassidy said, “but how the hell do you know that?”

“The way I understand it, the princes have a more legitimate claim to the throne than the Queen does,” Val said. He briefly wondered if Cassidy knew anything about Hemisphere, and decided they probably didn’t. No point getting into the weeds on that, then.

Cassidy went quiet for a moment, considering. They began to pace in a square on the deck, producing a cigarette from their pocket and puffing on it as they went. Val could once again sense John becoming more and more impatient as time wore on, and silently begged the other man not to interrupt before Cassidy could come to a decision.

At last, Cassidy came to a stop. They seemed to have made up their mind about something.

“How do the princes feel about all this?” they asked.

“We want to come with Mr. John and Mr. Val,” Gawain said loudly, without even turning around.

“If we stay in England, we stay underground forever–or probably get killed,” Percy said, more pragmatically. He had moved to stand with his brother at the rail, clutching Gawain’s shirt in a fist to keep him from toppling off into the water. “This way, we might get to have a life.”

Cassidy pinched the bridge of their nose, looking suddenly aggrieved. It took Val by surprise–he  shot a glance to John, who looked equally baffled.

“Fine!” Cassidy said, strained, and Val realized they weren’t annoyed with the princes, but with themself. “Alright, fine. I’ll take you across to Germany. For the kids’ sake. That’s what we’re doing here, right?”

“Right,” John agreed, hesitant.

“You couldn’t have led with the…the pathos? You had to pull out a knife? Never mind. Don’t say anything.” Cassidy began to pace the distance between Val and John. “I’ll drop you at the border gratis, but that’s it. You have to figure out where to go after that.” Cassidy jabbed their finger in the air for emphasis. “I’m not setting a foot into that country unless it’s at gunpoint. Got it?”

“Is Germany really that bad?” Val asked. He had no idea what to expect–Alys and her crew had made it seem like a safer alternative to France, but considering the state France was in, that wasn’t exactly a glowing recommendation.

“It’s fine. Great country. Lovely towns,” Cassidy grumbled. They crossed the deck briskly, and began to haul up a rope that seemed like it belonged to the boat’s anchor. “I was just banished from it, is all.”

epilogue 22 || 23.2

[avfrsr]

AI generate story about Draco and Pansy in Hogwart ekspress.

The Hogwarts Express chugged along the British countryside, its carriages filled with the excited chatter and laughter of students returning to Hogwarts. It was the start of another magical year, and inside one of the sliding-door compartments, a very different conversation was taking place.

Draco Malfoy sat beside Pansy Parkinson, his arm nonchalantly draped over her shoulders. The intimate atmosphere between them was clear—Draco's usual sneer softened whenever he looked at her, an unusual vulnerability in his silver-blue eyes.

"Are you going to try for Quidditch captain this year?" Pansy asked, tracing a finger on Draco's pale hand—a sign of their secret entanglement.

He glanced outside at the golden fields rushing by before settling his gaze back on her, "Perhaps. If Father thinks it would be good for... networking," Draco uttered the last word distastefully.

Pansy pouted playfully. "It's not always about what your father thinks," she whispered, leaning closer so that her lips were inches from his. "Sometimes it should be about what you want."

Draco could never admit it to anyone else, but Pansy saw right through him. With her, he felt a rare freedom—a departure from his usual duties and high-bred expectations. Here in the safety of their shared whispers lay the true desires of a boy raised under the weight of an imposing legacy.

"Have you given any thought to what 'you' want this year?" she continued provocatively, challenging him in ways others wouldn't dare.

Not even Draco himself understood why with Pansy he let down his guard, but as he searched her dark eyes, brimming with something like genuine concern mixed with affection, he found himself confessing ambitions he'd never voiced before—a desire to be recognized for his own merit and perhaps an aching curiosity about the world beyond pureblood prejudices.

They sat there for a moment in silence; words were unnecessary as they shared an unspoken understanding. Their heads leaned together, just enough to block out everything else—the Slytherin prince and his cunning companion sharing peace amidst chaos.

Without warning, the compartment door slid open with a bang and Crabbe stood there awkwardly. "We're nearly there," he grunted.

Draco stiffened immediately, resuming his usual haughty self; but not before giving Pansy's hand a final squeeze—a silent promise that this year would be different.

As they stepped off the train at Hogsmeade station and into the chaos of arrival at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy felt something stir within him—hopes that seemed outlandish for someone like him... but hopes nonetheless. And beside him stood Pansy Parkinson, as always—the girl who knew him fully yet chose to remain by his side.

[soraka-in-warhammer40k]

Shadows of Treachery (HH Vol. 22)

Another anthology of short stories. But Honstly? Until now I have not been a fan of those. It's always a coin-toss in these stories, with the range being "neat" and "absolute boredom". Luckily, the average on this book was a lot better than the previous ones.

Story #1 "The Blood Red Fist" was more on the boring side, mostly because it is essentially loyalists fighting and getting absolutely wrecked. I do not remember a single named character aside from Peturabo, but the main takaway here is the absolute fuckery of chaos. Rogal Dorn's order for the fleet to return to terra came in the wrongest moment. If it had come before the fight, they would have run and made it home safely with some luck. After the fight, it would have been useful as a rally point for the survivors - even if there would barely be any as Peturabo would totally shred them. But it broke through right in the middle of the maneuver, completly ruining any chances they might have had. Don't get me wrong, they wouldn't have won, but they would have dealt a devastating blow to the Iron Warrior fleet

Overall pretty lame, but I guess that's loyalists for you.

Story #2 "The Dark King" meanwhile tunes us in to what will later be the highlight of the book, mostly focussing on the Night Lords and Curze in specific. Let's just say thet Curze already murdered Astartes before the Heresy even began. Rogal Dorn and Fulgrim attempted to contain his madness, but they did not stop the man from LITERALLY BLOWING UP HIS HOMEWORLD BECAUSE HE DEEMED IT UNWORTHY. Curze at max. level insanity, so a pretty good read.

Story #3 "The Lightning Tower" meanwhile is also a lot more interesting. Also a loyalist tale, this is essentially just a conversation between Rogal Dorn and his first captain (I think). Also it directly references the first story from Dorn's perspective, which is pretty neat. Also it once again hammers home just how much Dorn hated his job for fortifying the palance.

Story #4 "The Kaban Machine" mostly is Mars being weird, and telling people the Dark Mechanicum exists? We got a confirmation that they are working on a functional AI, but that's not very shocking really. For anyone who has read "Mechanicum" it is absolute filler material.

Story #5 "Flight of the Raven" is also not very interesting - it takes place before Corvus' book and that one sorta spoils the ending. Mostly how the Raven Guard and their Primarch made it out after the Dropsite Massacre. No relevant information was gained, aside from establishing Corvus' supernatural perceptive abilities. Also pretty boring.

Story #6 "Death of a Silversmith" is also filler-material, but so, SO much better at its job. It's essentially a civillian's perspective on the whole thing, an artisan working under the Lunar Wolves right before the heresy who got murdered by a heretic and the pages are essentially his last thoughts as the life is bleeding out of him. What makes this so good is how short it is. The author had an idea, put it down, executed it well, but never overstayed his welcome. THIS is how you write filler!

But now, to the actual star of the book - not a short story, but a novella in lenght, story #6 "The Crow Prince" which was my first introduction to the Night Lords character Sevatar - who is in equal parts a new favourite of mine and also an absolute bastard. You see, he sees himself at very rational, efficient, and all that, but is also the prime exampe for "if you want to be REALLY stupid you need to be smart first, because the dumb person will never rationalize the truly stupid decisions or in fact never realize they coud make them".

The man is beyond reckless, both in combat and social situations. Also I love how he just takes absolutely no shit from his Primarch, and Curze is also delightfully insane in this story as well.

Not going to spoil much but I sure hope there will be more Sevatar in the future, mostly because I definetly want to see where this high-functioning-absolute-idiot will end up.

The next book will be Angelus Exterminatus, and I am excited for I heard a lot of good stuff about this one...