#deer/forest lady had his Precious

[mjrtaurus]

Love how there are just shots of Till looking like

[gremlingottoosilly]

The horror and the wild [!emperor!Konig x fem!Reader] ch.5

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one.

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2| Chapter 3| Chapter 4| Chapter 5l you're here! AO3

Word count: 3188 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig

Warnings for this chapter: Predator/Prey kink, mild choking

Little princess doesn’t know what’s good for her. Little princess is dumb and naive and oh, so deliciously weak, it makes Konig sick just how much he adores her pouty face, her aggressive expressions, and that squeak in her voice every time he does something to embarrass her – which he does, a lot, in fact. Quite aware of how his war dog lingo would affect an innocent young lady like his precious dearest darling illustrious wife, he uses it to hi advantage – when you have your lady cornered, heavy panting and cumming from your tongue and your fingers in her tight royal cunt, she wouldn’t be able to open her mouth for something meaningless, right? Thou shall not think as thou would be a sin against god. 

Emperor is a sinner, but he still believes that you shall always follow the religious instructions – as if not ever trying to oppose him and speak like you have the right to think in his presence. Perhaps, his devotion to making you weak and pliable in his arms is what led to this situation. 

Little princess doesn’t know what’s good for her, so little princess runs. 

You might brag about your best education and most elegant courses for women you attended in the palace – but he knows just how empty your adorable little head is, because you had no idea how much the thrill of the hunt turns him on. 

You’re nowhere to be found, escaped through the window of the room you were stationed in – it was his mistake, assigning you a place from which you could jump so easily. Next time, he will cuff you to his bedpost, like a loyal palace dog lying on his legs. Next time, he will make sure to love you so eagerly that your legs won’t work for at least a few days. 

He doesn’t even need his hunting dogs to catch you. Horangi offers his help, Tiger so eager to come out and play with a little princess, perhaps maul her a bit, showing the royal cunt what she deserves for disrespecting her emperor and his subjects – but oh no, this won’t do. König needs to discipline you himself, track your scent like the hound he is, and get you back to your wedding bed with your body in his teeth. 

Woe on you, dumb little princess, as your emperor considers escape attempts the richest form of courting. 

Following you through the forest near the castle, your footsteps are clear in the mud and dirt – a piece of your dress serves as a grinding light. Your scent, delicious sweetness, and fresh flower oils maid had infused you with made it laughably easier to find you. He can almost see the glimpses of your body running through the woods – god, he knew that he wanted you and was right about taking you away. 

How can he resist a wedding gift from his bride who wants to play tag? He follows you like a madman, a dog, he sees through trees, trying to see where you could run. The deep golden brown of your dress almost made you look like a forest spirit standing in the depths of the woods – if it weren’t for König’s trained eye, he would rather mistake you for a tree. Or a particularly precious deer. 

He licks his lips, a wolf approaching the bunny he was hunting for so long – you run away, still try to. These dumb skirts aren’t made for running away from your fiancee in a forest – you can barely walk in those, poor thing. You take a step back, panicking, squawking from fear, as he approaches you as slowly as possible. 

Perhaps, if he gives you one more chance to run, it would make the chase even more precious. 

He is used to hunting with his royal hounds, with a group of his closest friends by his side – war hawks helping hunt for prey, the animal snifters making the whole process laughably easy. He doesn’t have anyone for the company now. 

Only you, him, and wilderness – and his adoring love for everything you do. 

— Stop resisting, little princess.

You whimper, but your little annoyed expression makes him only harder. Hell, how he adores your frown, how much he wants to kiss your face right now – god knows he is holding himself back these days. Little princess doesn’t deserve to get her innocence taken on her back, legs open on the dirt of the royal forest – but sometimes you act like a good lashing, and some passionate mating is the only thing that would keep you in line. 

He yells in your direction, hoping that even that dumb head of yours has some sense in it – the chase is fun, and he would continue it more until you’re completely unraveled under him, exhausted and defeated – but, oh, your silly desire to be free has led you to the edge of the lake. Dancing on the shaky, soft sands and warm mud of the pond, your clothes leave you with very small chances of getting out of here in one piece. 

He doesn’t want to be the bringer of doom, but just one sleep, a nervous movement that you can’t control – and the little princess of his dreams will come flying in the dark waters. Even if your royal majesty knows how to swim, the heavy fabrics of your garments would be declared as your executioners. 

You look so fragile like this – your skirt is lifted, showing your pretty ankles, as you’re trying to jump from stone to stone, as far away from him as possible. You’re scared, only reminding him more of the bunnies he used to hunt as a kid – and he is almost offended that you’d prefer that risk of drowning over getting in the hands of your husband again, but alas, princesses are usually not the smartest creatures on the planet. 

— I’d rather die, Your Majesty. 

You bite your lips and look at him, so stubborn and cute – the feelings in him rise, your arrogant expression making the thrill of the hint ever sweeter. God, he cannot control himself around you like this – you should stop trying to make yourself sweeter for him, he already wants to keep you chained in his bed and never let you go. 

You’re so…

Ach. 

His path of thought is stopped by the splash of water. 

Dumb thing, you really decided to make the most of your words – like a cornered animal, you jumped in the lake, getting to the bottom almost immediately. Your dress is heavy and expensive, all the weight of the fabrics pinning you down in elaborate execution. Your emperor stands on the small beach, looking at the water circles going from where you fell…and then he jumps straight after you. 

The last thing you remembered before the world went dark was the scream of a man who, for the first time in his life, had experienced genuine fear. 

*** You wake up warm – and naked. 

No wet clothes, no heavy dress lingering on your skin like a soft coffin. 

You’re as naked as the day you were born, shivering despite the warmness of the room and the crackling of fire somewhere near you. You remember this room – a royal bedroom, quickly made as your quarters when you moved to this god-forsaken castle. Empire has some horribly extensive architecture, and this room, big, stony, and expelled of any decor, has only made you feel regret ever waking up. 

You wished to wake up in the cold embrace of your Princess – but you open your eyes and see this room over and over again. Why couldn’t death come sooner? 

— It was incredibly stupid even for you, little princess. 

König sits on the edge of the bed. A future husband shouldn’t sit like this, resembling a servant who is scared for the health of his misstress. His eyes are filled with cold fury and other emotions that you can’t quite grasp – you don’t want to look at his face too much as even the mere glimpse is making you uncomfortable. God knows you are not in the mood for trying to talk to your captor. 

God knows he doesn’t care about your wishes. 

— If you can only provide me freedom in case of my death…

— You will not be free after your death. 

You sigh, shocked – your brain isn’t nearly ready for this information when you just almost died. You shift in your bed, trying to pretend that you accidentally fell asleep – but the emperor pushes his hand on your cheek, warm fingers lingering on the cold skin. You sigh quietly, sealing his warmth. 

You fight the desire to nuzzle in his palm like an obedient little pet. 

— It’s not for you to decide, Your Majesty. I should be allowed to die on my own accord. 

— I'm entitled to your life, my bride. Don’t make me remind you of this, ja? 

— I would rather… 

— I can deliver death to you, little one. In a verdammt heartbeat. 

His hand goes from a warm presence on your cheek to an angry squeeze of your neck – you cough when he continues to shut your breath, fluttering of your neck in his grasp only makes your defeat even sweeter. König has you right where he wants it – under him, holding firmly in his grasp like some exotic bird he picked up from his travels. 

Lack of air makes you dizzy – as ironic as it sounds, you feel airheaded, hands clinging to his massive palm in a poor attempt to make him let you go. You whimper, you cry, you feel death all too soon – you want to die, of course, maybe, willingly meeting in hell with the royalty you had sworn to serve, but you don’t want to be killed. Tears run down your cheeks when you finally see the other side of him – out of control, angry, worse even than the conqueror you saw when you first met. 

You feel replaceable and small – he squeezes your throat like you aren’t his bride like you don’t mean anything to him, and, yes, it makes you feel hurt. Vulnerable as ever, your manicured nails have zero power over him – he only laughs at your helpless expression. For a second, it makes you think this is it – the last thing you would ever see is the cold anger in the eyes of your emperor. 

When your vision finally got blurry enough so you could not see anything anymore, König softly lowered his face closer to you, lifting the bottom part of his weird, strange hood. Smothering you with his lips, delivering the air you were craving for – if only to make himself feel even more in control. You’re lightheaded and a bit dumb, still, your mind is too delirious to actually understand anything that is happening around you. 

His lips are warm and dry, you steal air from his lungs with each second – you feel the energy feeling you up again, eyes are finally set enough to see at least some part of his face. Chiseled chin, covered in scars, tanned skin – you’re surprised that he is not as pale as you thought he must be, with his love for the masks. 

His veins are dark and rotten – you don’t understand how he can survive with his blood looking like this, but the dark tendrils of his body almost make him more of a curiosity than an actual human being. It’s only his lips that are still holding you in realms of the living. You don’t want to think of the implications and gossip you heard from some servants that were allowed to go out – allowed to witness the growth of the empire that was soon to eat you all. 

König finally lets go of your mouth when you start falling asleep again. You don’t allow him to simply cover his lips with his hood again though – your hands are heading to lend on his neck, fingers tracing the outlines of his veins. 

A medical curiosity, this emperor – you squeeze the rot of his neck, and he moans like you just did something that he liked too much. 

It’s only fitting that he has the body of a monster – for all he is done, you wouldn't be surprised if his head actually resembles the one of an octopus from silly books you were reading or a mess of dark tendrils, wiggling and swarming. Your delirious, oxygen-deprived mind still wants to touch him more, to satisfy your curiosity in all the more fitting ways. Maybe take your research a bit further down to see if he truly is a man down there. 

But oh well, you saw his body before – although you never as much as paid attention to that detail. Did he change in a few days that passed? Does his veins start to spew out darkness because he is…

He crushed your hand in his, almost making you feel a crack in your dainty lady fingers. God forbid you feel like your hands are being torn apart. 

— Never try to defy me like this again. 

He spews the words with anger than would be fitting for the enemy – and he is, for you, but you were sure that he didn’t consider you one of them. The contrast with his soft actions earlier, you can feel tears collecting in your eyes as he slowly lets go of your hand. 

Not knowing what to do, you roll to the side, burning desire to never see his face – or lack thereof – ever again. Like an angry cat that doesn’t know how to stop biting, you feel like you’re going to cry again and again. 

You whimper, trying to escape the haunting gaze of his eyes – and his face softens, if only for a bit. He presses his hand against your damp forehead, checking the temperature. You don’t want to forgive him just yet – for anything at this matter, but he is soft at this moment, and somehow, it is almost enough. Somehow, you almost feel like you can breathe again. 

— I was so scared, little princess. I don’t like being scared. 

You laugh dryly, your face is still deep in the pillow. You are trying to ignore the beast, but the beast decided that you’re his best option for a nice free snack. Beast decided to take off some of his clothes – you don’t see it, but you hear the sound of fabric hitting the floor, and you don’t want to even think how much it cost. 

You try to cover your naked body with the silk sheets of your bed, but soft fabric only entices your desires in a way that can only be called sinful. You remember the sensation of his tongue between your legs, your desire to simply run out of your skin because of how good it felt – each stroke made you strive further and further away from your duties. Like a good little maid you are, a perfect lady in waiting, waiting for her demise, you have to ignore all the mortal pleasures. 

If you want the royal family to truly forgive you in their graves, you would have to join them. Perhaps, you gave up on drowning too fast. 

— It wasn’t my intention. 

He shifts, the bed is too small for someone like him. You feel his legs, clothed, thank god, touching your naked thighs – and you immediately stir to the further side. You keep your arms and legs in check, getting into a small ball of limbs as you’re trying to comfort yourself without his touch. You don’t want to admit it, but König is warm, warmer than you thought he had the right to be, and you’re freezing. The phantom feeling of cold water on your skin is making you shiver. 

— What were your intentions then? 

If the emperor knows about manners and how a fiancee should behave around his bride that he didn’t even consummate the marriage, he is ignoring that knowledge. Large hands pinning you to his chest, warm and firm – to your utter dread, he took off the armor plates and even the simple shirt under it, making you helplessly squish your cheek against his muscles. He smells like a man, and you never knew you’d feel that smell in your life. 

You don’t hate it. 

— You killed by parents, Your Majesty. 

He only laughs, his hand goes to stroke your back. This is a contrast with his coldness before – he is soft and warm with you, and you hate that you don’t hate it. Gigantic palm goes to settle between your shoulder blades and you simply sigh, trying to get used to his touches. You don’t want to, but a good servant should adapt to everything, so you do just that. Adapting, deforming, melding yourself in something you never knew you even could be. 

Your head hurts, and you whimper when his gentle massage relaxes your sore muscles. You hate his gentleness, you hate his firmness. 

You want him to let you go, but you don’t even know where you would go. 

— Your parents, little princess? Really? 

There is a vile mockery in his voice, and you immediately remember who this man is. Not some devoted lover and slightly obsessive romanticist – he is dangerous, horrible, he is the conqueror of your country. You may not have warm feelings about the royal family, but he doesn’t know this – his laugh and mockery of your “family” must be real. It has to be, or else you’re going to die after your deceiving has been opened. 

He pushes you even closer to him, and you whimper like a dumb little dog without any means of stopping him from touching you. There is some freedom from being exposed like this, but you still don’t like it. Still feel like he is going to murder you, given the reason. 

— If anything, my men did it. That dog you called a father did not deserve my sword. 

Anger fills your whole body – not because you were particularly close with the king, but because König is parading his mockery of your supposed family. He hugs you with hands that are covered in blood, no matter if he is just the one to give orders. 

You try to get out of his grasp, but apathy fills you. What’s the point if the royal family is dead? What’s the point if you aren’t even the real princess. 

— You will not call my father…

He makes you shut your mouth when he kisses your head. Sweet and soft, you do not understand his intentions. If anything, it feels like yet another mockery. 

— I will call him like I want, meine Liebe. And you will still be mine. 

— I won’t just take it, Your Majesty. 

He laughs again. You feel sick. 

— With our wedding tomorrow, little flower, you will have to take it. Not the last thing you’ll take on that day, little princess. 

You feel like you are going to be sick. 

König kisses you again, forcing you to sleep in his hands. 

[captain039]

Lord and lady

Vampire lord Astarion x spawn!reader

Warnings: possessiveness, jealousy, gore, vampire things, eventual smut, swearing, hurt/comfort, sexual

Still haven’t played Baldurs gate three, I’m thriving on YouTube and tiktok videos without trying to spoil the whole thing xD also Gale? A precious baby but also out of body love making xD 😭

Hopefully I can really make red flags and evil Astarion (HAH)

(CHANGED TITLE)

You weren’t even sure why or when it happened, all you remember is cold throbbing and your world disappearing before you awoke. You were wrong though, changed, the sounds of the forest were horrible and loud, the sun felt like a fire burning you and you were so hungry. You’d gone home on instinct mind a craze for something you never thought you’d need, blood. You’d slaughtered your parents and drunk them dry, their blood flowed through your system and you finally came to reality. You’d been in shock horror, you had wailed out into the wooden house, trashed the place before going into a numbness and burying them. You ran from the village, took few things, you wanted to die out in the wilderness, only your hunger forced you to survive. You lived off rabbits, deer, whatever was unfortunate enough to cross your crazed being. Your clothes were ruined and you felt like a hermit, your hair was matted horribly and you looked like a skeleton. It’d been a hot day and you hid in a cave panting at thirst and the warmth, you felt like a rabid dog almost. You had no idea where you were, your backpack you once had was lost to the woods and your shoes and clothes were ruined. You jolted awake, senses on edge and alerted as you felt something close. Your hunger raged and you attacked whatever it was, praying for just a deer, problem was, it spoke. You bit down on its neck, power flooded your veins and your eyes went wide and you stumbled off whoever it was. You shuffled back before getting off the ground and ready to run.

“Stop!” You froze at the word and every single hair on your body stood up.

“Who are you?” He asked and you wondered why on earth he was talking to you.

“Nothing, monster! no one” your voice wasn’t yours almost, it felt wrong, hoarse. Your eyes twitched over the woods wanting to run, you heard critters in the night making you jolt and flinch.

“What’s your name, darling?” He said voice smooth as honey.

“Nothing” you shook your head flinching when he stepped closer, why hadn’t you run?

“Who on earth did this to you?” He said more asking himself as he circled you. Your mind flashed between brown hair, red eyes, strong body and sharp cold fangs.

“A master shouldn’t leave its spawn, the spawn should leave its master” he said huffing and you frowned.

You finally found the will to move your body and sprinted through the woods, you were too quick for yourself practically smacked into every tree before you fell to the ground in agony. You hadn’t been able to cry in a long time, you just laid in the bottom of the forest floor, listening to footsteps getting closed.

“I’ll help you” you heard as someone lifted you and your world went black.

You awoke with a jolt rolling off the overly comfortable surface, you hit the cold floor with a groan. Your mind eyes opened and you stared at the grey floor, where were you? The smells and sounds weren’t familiar.

“Darling?” You heard confused and turned snarling at them. The man from the forest stood there a silk black cape behind him, his chest on display from the extremely low v-neck he work, tight leather top with pants lined with red, black lace up boots, a black jewelled head piece around his forehead, disappearing into his white curls. He approached slowly and you quickly scrambled away and hit the back of the wall, your chest heaved and you couldn’t focus properly.

“Love, you need to calm down” he said and you groaned loudly. A burst of magic left you, knocking the vampire to the ground, a groan leaving his lips.

“Sire?” You heard come from the door.

“Don’t!” The vampire growled, but you had already got up and to run out the door. You knocked over who was at the door, you got lost in the big black castle, the occasional person looking at you confused. You were knocked to the ground though a body covering yours and fangs latching on your neck. You whimpered body going limp at the growl that filled your ears. You knew it was the vampire from the forest, he didn’t drink your blood though, he simply held you there like a wolfs jaw around a rabbits neck.

“Are you done?” He let go and whispered and you nodded hesitantly. You noticed others around you and closed your eyes hoping they’d disappear.

“Leave!” He snarled and hurried footsteps left. He hesitated but slowly lifted his body off yours. You lay limply though opening your eyes again.

“Up” he ordered and your body listened. You stood on shaky legs not looking to him, holding a hand over your neck feeling your blood before the wound healed quickly. You wiped your hands on your pants and tensed as the vampire moved behind you. You avoided looking at him as he stood in front of you.

“Tell me your name” he ordered and you hesitated.

“Y/n” you muttered the name foreign almost. He muttered your name and your body shuddered.

“Why’re you out in the forest living like an animal?” He asked.

“I’m a monster” you said fangs aching at the thought.

“You’re not a monster, you just haven’t been taught” you looked up as he said those words eyes wide.

“I know all vampires around here, who turned you?” He asked and you began to shake.

“I don’t know!” You cried as boots came into your view and a hand held your neck gently. You gasped looking to the vampire, his Ruby eyes stern.

“Open your mind to me” he whispered and you frowned, you didn’t know magic.

“I don’t know how to, I don’t know magic” you said shakily.

“You have it in you” he said as his thumb moved to your bottom lip. Your whole body lit up seeing his eyes intently looking at your lips. He frowned shaking his head slightly and letting your neck go, confusion in his eyes.

“Sire” you heard the voice from before and turned to the person. Another vampire stood there, a young woman, well she looked young.

“What is it?” He asked to the woman.

“There’s an issue requiring your attention” she pressed glancing to you briefly.

“I have issues already, deal with yourself” he snapped and she huffed.

“Syla” he warned and she gave a cold face before turning to leave.

“For a spawn she is defiant” the vampire behind you tsked, how many of them were here?

“How about a bath?” He said suddenly and you frowned at him.

“Kano!” He yelled and you flinched. A dwarf appeared, a human, a pissed look on his face.

“What you want?” He huffed.

“Please take our guest to the bathroom, get some of the ladies to help her” the vampire said.

“Apparently I’m needed” he sighed walking past you and the dwarf, disappearing down the hall.

“Who are you?” The drawf asked and you gulped.

“Y/n” you said.

“Kano” he introduced beginning to walk away.

“Come on then!” He called and you followed. You were confused from the halls and door before you reached a bathroom.

“Molly” Kano called and a black haired woman looked your way, a white dress on her body.

“Oh” she said surprised at you.

“What happened?” She asked looking to the dwarf.

“Our lord found her” he shrugged and she sighed shaking her head.

“Come let’s get you cleaned up” she smiled softly and you frowned, glancing at the dwarf as he left. She beckoned you over before running the bath.

Next part ->

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Promises Five: The Hunt

Dark!Morpheus x (female)reader, fantasy/medieval AU, 18+

Master List

Dream of the Endless had been promised a bride.

A/N: I'll offer song recs to folks who are interested in asks! Still dealing with some mental health issues, but pushing through. HOLY SHIT THE NEXT CHAPTER. 0,0 Liking is sweet, commenting is divine. Talk to the lonely hermit, people. Her dog is tired of her shit.

The hounds sang after the hinds, and their masters followed them under the trees.

In the distance, the high castle sat like a toy house from which all the dolls had escaped, spreading their games and pageantry through the forest with bells and horns to warn away the deer and fox. Huntsmen released other deer, fox, and fowl from prearranged cages out of sight of the king and his swarm of courtiers, so the dolls could play pretend at feats of skill.

The bard kept to the back, holding a tight rein on her grey mare – who didn’t understand why she couldn’t stop and graze if the bard insisted on moving so slowly – in the company of the ladies Alder. Eilwyn, who’d visited the bard’s chamber two nights past, glimmered and glowed, illuminated like a piece of art in the dappled sunlight and the eyes of a few dozen would-be suitors. Officially, no one could pay court until the Endless had his pick. Unofficially, Eilwyn had received six declarations of love, five bad poems about her eyes, one good poem about her hair, and an uninspired puzzle box containing a gaudy necklace without a single gem of value.

Eilwyn loved it all, of course.

But as the younger woman amused herself snaring hearts for her collection, the bard conversed with the Dowager Alder, Eilwyn’s grandmother.

“The city lights are unbearable,” the elder Alder insisted. “My eyes are bad enough as it is, but when every street and tavern glows like the moon, I can hardly make out the planets with my telescope, let alone the fainter stars. With the travel time, I’ll lose whole weeks of work, and gods know if I’ll be alive to note my calculations this time next year.”

Manly shouts and howling dogs suggested something ahead had died, or was about to. The bard wondered how many of these fools in their fine furs would discover the material cost of bloodsport when they couldn’t scrub the stains from their velvets in the morning.

“You say that every year.”

The Elder Alder, on her aged palfrey, squinted at the green canopy shielding her beloved sky and tutted.

“And one year I’ll be right, like I always am in the end.”

The woman was an astronomer, a mathematical magician, and the idea of death hadn’t scared her since the bard first met her as a young maid. The wheel of the heavens moved before her, and it would move after, and that was well enough if she could just understand the damn thing before she shuffled off this mortal coil. She’d written books, and papers, and more books, and the bard wondered if Death would really hold off until the universe held no more mysteries. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Of course, Lady Alder.”

Arthritis had long-since gnarled the lady’s hands, and they twisted over the saddle pommel and a hank of her horse’s main like knobby cypress knees, straining with the roll and sway of her palfrey’s gait.

“How far is the damned camp?”

Another lady – one of the fools hoping to wed her daughter to the Endless riding very far ahead near the king – seized the reins of her precious child’s horse and passed the odd trio. She did not look to the side. She did not look at anything. She lifted her nose far too high. And she nearly trotted over her own servants in passing.

The bard waved, and the daughter gawked with wide eyes as she was spirited away from poor influences and dangerous words. Really, any damage was already done, and fleeing the scene of battle only showed weakness. What kind of lesson would the girl really learn besides the fact that her mother enjoyed making a spectacle of her piety? Parents really had the strangest ideas about children.

“Grandmother!” Eilwyn exclaimed, clearly delighted.

The bard, equally delighted, couldn’t help herself. “Such language from so fair a lady. Shocking.”

The Dowager shifted in her saddle, face puckered in discomfort. “Hush, the both of you.”

Oh, if only she could. She laughed to imagine how much pain and trouble might’ve been saved. And how many adventures missed. They never would’ve been friends at all if the bard kept her own counsel.

“You expect a bard to hold her tongue?”

“The sun will freeze first.” The Dowager made a point of staring down her granddaughter, though, and her granddaughter made a point of smiling very prettily in reply. A lord several lengths ahead called for Lady Eilwyn’s attention, and she brokered an armistice by riding out of her grandmother’s line of sight entirely, leaving the two old companions to fight their own wars.

“My old bones are not made for riding.”

A jolt of pity seared the bard’s belly like the pain after eating a rotten fish. She’d rather purge it and be done, but the prickling discomfort would only grow with age. There was no course but to swallow it down and imagine it hurt much less than it would in time.

“Why didn’t you take the coach then? It could’ve brought you in comfort.”

Swollen knuckles flexing, the lady scoffed. “With the rest of the invalids? Don’t insult me.”

“But it’s so much fun, old friend.”

“Old,” Lady Alder muttered. “Yes. I am that.”

The bard shifted in her own saddle, wondering if she could stomach any of the inevitable banquet awaiting them.

“That wasn’t the word I’d hoped you’d echo.”

An eye sharper than any hawk’s pinned her from the side, and she felt like a child caught sulking. “If you need reassurance as to that, then you are not half so clever as you make yourself out to be.”

She seized on the opportunity for levity and smiled with all her teeth. “You’ve known me for a fool many years, have you not?”

“Aye, but a clever one.” The lady considered. “Most days.”

“Such praise you give me.”

“You fished for it so often the lake is empty.”

“Unfair but not untrue.”

The lady hummed her affirmation, welcoming in a moment of calm as they road in the wake of the hunt’s chaos.

Ahead, those most eager to prove themselves brought down smaller prey on their way to the day’s camp. Once all had a chance to refresh themselves with wine as their horses grazed, most would sally out again in the name of dead beasts. Dusk would bring them back, and they’d spend the night drinking, feasting, and debauching one another just outside the safe ring of torchlight, pretending to be very daring and wild for fucking someone in a bush.  A bit more hunting in the morning for those who could still sit straight in the saddle, and then all would return bloody and victorious to the castle.

The bard struggled to understand those who found the prospect of a royal hunt… thrilling. None worried to go home hungry, and the creatures they met in the wood came hobbled, with teeth filed and tusks blunted.

Rushing down a winding stair risked greater peril.

Bored by the day’s excitement, she let her thoughts spin out in wider and wider passes, circling the crux of the drama.

What did the King of Dreams dream of?

Revenge, she suspected. Vengeance on the king that may boil over on the land he ruled, and she must guide her favorites out of the flood’s path. Those practical answers satisfied the part of her that always craved a direction, a purpose, the next challenge to conquer, but the Dream King’s retribution sat like a wax seal over a longer letter. She would very much like to read that letter, even if it was dangerous, and unwise, and entirely reckless.

The Prince of Stories must have depths unfathomable, millennia upon eon of secrets and experiences carved into his bones. She wanted to dismiss her curiosity as nothing but interest in a vision of her future. Would she be like him in another thousand years? No. She’d still be human, and he was Endless. All the lifetimes of the Earth couldn’t teach her to understand one such as him.

But that didn’t mean she had no desire to try.

From farther up the line, a runner came jogging, peering up at the faces of the mounted company. He looked from one to another, seeking the right address to receive his message. The bard paused, recognizing the Everard house colors on servant’s tabard. Her horse stamped, whickering around the bit as her rider leaned out of the saddle to catch the young man’s eye. He saw her and darted to her side quick as an arrow.

“Is all well?” the bard asked.

“My lady Alis Everard and my lord Tomas Everard request you ride with them.”

The bard looked to Lady Alder. She hardly needed her friend’s permission, and none of the Alders were the sort to cherish grudges over perceived slights. But the bard didn’t want to leave her to ride alone, either. She needed good conversation and someone who cared enough to notice if she swayed on her horse.

“Oh, go tend to your nervous foal.” Lady Alder waved her off. “My own proud filly will see you pass and return to keep me amused. We favor different arts, but she has a sharp enough eye to see trouble riding by.”

“Thank you.” The bard pulled out of the column of riders, careful to avoid the servant at her side. “I’ll see you at the camp.”

Whatever Lady Alder replied was lost to the wind. Finally given her head, the bard’s mare leapt into a canter, her hooves thumping a second heartbeat that rattled up and through her rider. Old loam and the sharp green scent of freshly broken twigs gathered around her like a cloak as she moved just left of the path, removed from the rock and dust of the road.

The bard knew what colors to look for, and she let all definition blur as she moved past lords, ladies, knights, and their scores of attendants. They all looked so strange and out of place in the tunnel of green woods, dressed to stand out in a part of the world where blending in more often preserved life.

Near the front of the cavalcade, she found the Everards. Alis stared with wide eyes as the bard pulled even with her, mare prancing and snorting in frustration as her run came to an end. Her dramatic entrance pulled other eyes, and the king – only a few riders ahead – glanced back with frustrated disgust. Perhaps she should apologize that she wasn’t a stag. For all of the ruckus she’d heard from afar, she saw precious few carcasses dangling from the hunters’ belts.

“Thank you for coming in such haste,” Lord Everard said. Stifled amusement plucked at his lips, trying to lift them into a broad, laughing gale. It would be bad manners to laugh too loudly too near the king over a jest to which he wasn’t party, but Everard clearly struggled.

She answered with the grin he’d tried to school away. “Best way to travel. Now, what is the matter?”

Lord Everard gestured to his daughter, and she in turn tried to sink into the mud of the forest track. She hunched low, like she could melt into her boots. Her complexion had gone pale, despite the flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, and her gloves creaked as her dainty hands squeezed into fists. The bard let the merriment fade, looking and listening beyond the girl’s silence.

Alis’s doe eyes flicked towards the shadow who rode beside her king, and the bard understood.

Dream of the Endless wore his customary black, with the blood-red ruby shining on his breast like a heart he’d ripped from his prey. His nightmare mount had teeth where it ought to have eyes, and it laughed with a man’s voice. He carried a raven on his shoulder rather than a hawk on his glove, and anyone who hadn’t met his sister may mistake him for an aspect of Death. Or something worse, perhaps.

Lord of Nightmares indeed.

“He frightens me,” Alis whispered, leaning close. “I’ve had nothing but bad dreams since I came to the castle.”

As she should. A glance at her father confirmed he thought the same. Just because he’d been forced to bring his child to this storm didn’t mean he didn’t fear the lightning. He had too much sense for this farce and too big a heart to let the girl suffer. If his wife were not busy running the estate, she’d be here to shelter and comfort their little girl, but in her absence, he must ask the bard to fill the role, and she gladly pulled Alis’s attention from bad dreams to simpler truths.

“And you’ve never had a nightmare before?” She didn’t chide. She reminded. Even in the security of her own bed in her own home, the girl had touched the darker shores of the Dreaming. Its king would not reach out to swallow her now, even though he prowled so near in the Waking. “Alis, believe me, you are safe.”

Alis pulled her spine straight, taking a deep, intentional breath that shuddered on the way in and trembled on the way out.

“Do you promise?”

“I promise that if I’m wrong, I’ll find a convenient sword to fall on, and you can say you told me so. Does that make you feel better?”

“A little.” Realizing what she’d said, Alis blanched and rushed to add, “But only because I know you’d come back!”

This time her father did laugh, and the bard reached to reassure her with an honest to gods giggle, when chaos erupted at the front. The king and his companions came to a dead stop, and without warning or order, those who rode behind struggled to halt in time. Rearing horses and shouts of alarm rolled down the line like a breaker, and in the wave of confusion that followed, the bard once again left the road to circle forward.

They’d reached the camp.

A glory of golden stitching over swaths of emerald, the vast tents might cover an entire town, and smoke rising with the smells of rosemary and stewed venison hinted at the delights within.

The display paled behind the entity waiting at the edge of the woods, however.

Golden eyes like licks of flame from the sun’s heart smiled over ruby lips. Welcoming and menacing and all-too pleased with themselves.

Power perfumed the air, like honeysuckle and ambergris, clashing with the winter-cold snap of Dream’s clear displeasure. The King of Dreams had lost the veneer of humanity, and he set himself against the intruder like the deepest hour of the night resisting the dawn.

Few creatures could stand up to the king’s guest. Even fewer commanded the presence of function beyond personification. The bard did not know who the stranger was, but she knew what they were.

Another fucking Endless.

Every inch screamed of passion, romance, obsession. Golden hair and loose-fit silks that flowed like water into a garment that was neither tunic nor gown inspired sensual curiosities. They rode a unicorn, a bay mount with cloven hooves, a lion’s tail, and a goat’s beard. The russet horn glinted with flecks of gold, like treasure winking through a smear of blood.

The King of Dreams sneered, lip curling as he shared a frigid greeting.

“Sibling.”

The Endless in their path laughed, bright as bells and smooth brandy. It sounded to the bard’s ears like trouble. “I hope you don’t mind if I join in your hunt. Big brother.”

[plangentlyre]

May we please get part two of your amazing story since oh my God I loved how you expressed the characters and wrote it!! <33

Of course!!! Thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate it 🥺 (I accidentally made this one a bit longer and sorry for taking so long!!)

Part 1

The regret comes crashing a mere minute after Jessica leaves Jennifer and as soon as she stops herself, she finds that the surroundings have changed from tinkling shop doors to the familiar labyrinths of forest trees.

Has she truly run this far or has her mind finally fallen into illusion? She looks at her hands, still human and whole and yet when she looks below, her hooves have morphed into feet. Where there was a deer below her stomach, a tangled blue skirt replaces it instead.

It is only until she is beckoned by the voice of a vendor that Jessica realizes the concrete ground and the benches scattered around her. A woman walks in leisure with her dog, children shriek in their squeaking swing sets and a wrinkled, old man calls to her with a cart full of flowers.

"No beautiful girl deserves to frown," he says, "why not buy this daffodil, dear? It is said that these fellows are the attaining of happiness, the symbol for love and hope."

Dear, Jennifer always calls her that. After what happened back there in the shop, would she still call her that?

Jessica says nothing, it isn't that she simply does not want to but rather, it isn't something she can do. Instead, a sob wracks over her body as she covers her face.

"Oh dear," the vendor grieves for her sincerely. He takes the brown cap off his head and he gathers a couple of daffodils, some yellow and some white, before offering it to her. "The youth these days are all suffering. Most lose themselves so deeply that they can only swim further down. You may pay with money if you wish, but a smile is all I ask for. Will you do that for me, dear?"

Jessica tries, truly she does but it is only Jennifer's angered face that she sees, how she must surely look once she tells her to leave. But then a sudden weight falls on her head and a sweet scent wafts to her nose. The man's hand pets her gently, so akin to the way Jennifer cards her fingers through her hair as she lays on her lap.

It soothes her until the tears stop and she slumps her shoulder. Only then she is able to procure a wobbly smile at the old man.

She takes the flowers and with a worn but rested heart returns to the shop where she and Jennifer parted. Upon entering, all eyes are immediately on her alert. Her body has returned to its original form.

The intrusive lady from before, now with a purple bruise on her forehead, sneers at her distastefully when Jessica implores her about the bag that Jennifer wanted. "There is no way this precious handbag is going anywhere near some freakish arcanist. Unless of course, you can afford its original price."

Jessica is a word away from bursting the place with poison when a gloved hand swoops between them, holding a black card towards the lady. "I'll pay for her," comes the sardonic voice.

She lightens greatly upon the person's entrance, "Joshua!"

Horropedia grimaces. It has been his greatest pain for Jessica to discover his name. "Please, you can't keep calling me like that."

He gives the shopping bag to Jessica once he receives it. "Anyways, it's good that you're here, it would really mess up my schedule if you've lost yourself in the woods or something. Totally uncool."

"Oh," she bows her head sadly, "I'll apologize to Vertin for burdening her. She's already so busy, I don't like making her overwork."

"Uh-huh," Horropedia taps the side of his forehead with a raised brow. "Any other name that rings a bell? I'll have you know that a certain blondie has been clawing through the streets looking for a, well, deer girl to apologize. I had to physically stop her from murdering some innocent bystander with a chainsaw while looking for some movie tapes so I'd say you get to it and resolve whatever," he waves vaguely, "lover's quarrel you guys have."

"I see. Thank you, Joshua!"

"H-Hey! No calling other people's names like that unprompted, geez."

It's easy to locate Jennifer with her heightened senses and points her back to the park. What is not simple though is the amount of courage she musters before approaching her.

Jennifer heeds her no mind at first as she busies herself looking to the same forest trees Jessica has seen. And while she tries not to, she can hear the irritated mumbles of Horropedia's name along with a string of curses.

With shivering hands, she calls, "Jennifer..."

A loud gasp emits from the girl's throat and Jennifer startles at her appearance. "Jessica! Oh thank God you're here!" She runs to her and catches her in a tight hug. Jessica allows herself to relax upon the familiar scent of Jennifer's rose perfume and warm, soothing touch.

"Do you-" she chokes in her tears, "do you have any idea how much I've looked for you! I've been worried sick, I-I-"

"Don't cry, Jennifer." Jessica pushes her back then she pulls out the handbag from the shopping bag. "Look! I got you that handbag you wanted and a kind friend offered these flowers to me. He says that these will make you happy."

"You... You bought this for me?" She takes the bag in her hands, gaze wide.

"Of course! And, um," Jessica fidgets, "I don't like making Jennifer upset and I did something really bad. I'm sorry."

There is a pause that deafens them as she waits for Jennifer's response. Then suddenly, the bag drops to the ground. Jessica flinches at the sound of its impact and when she turns to look at Jennifer, the girl was looking at her with a conflicted stare.

"Jessica..." her jaw clenches, lips trembling as she speaks, "you didn't have to do that."

Jessica panics. "But-"

"No. Listen to me, I-I should be the one apologizing to you. I didn't really understand why you were so upset but after a... consultation, I know now." She takes a step near to Jessica and she holds her hands. "I'm sorry for ignoring your feelings. It was selfish of me to get mad at something so small. I would never want you to leave, ever."

A relieved, giddy laugh escapes her throat. A large smile tugs on her face. "You won't leave too, Jennifer?"

Jennifer sighs fondly as she shakes her tousled hair. "Bad news, dear, but you're stuck with me. Hope you don't mind my horrible personality."

Jessica giggles, "Jennifer's being ridiculous now. If not for you, I wouldn't be so happy. That's why, I love you, Jennifer."

She takes her hand and kisses it, "I love you too, Jessica."

[ariel-seagull-wings]

THE ENCHANTED DEER

@tamisdava2 @adarkrainbow @themousefromfantasyland @the-blue-fairie @professorlehnsherr-almashy @princesssarisa @faintingheroine @amalthea9

(Brazilian Folktale)

Once there lived in the house of beautiful queen of the East a beautiful slave who had the graceful name of Genoveva. In the afternoon Genoveva looked for dark and lonely place and gave herself over to reading pious books, listening to the birds sing.

Suddenly a beautiful stray deer appeared to her in the dark of the forest and, after looking at her for a long moment, asked her:

"Do you want to follow me, Genoveva?"

This kind invitation deeply moved the slave who had the desire to accept it and go further with this little animal; but very quickly she denied it, remembering her dear poor, to whom she gave the remains of the lady's table; and so she replied:

"I will not accompany you, dear little deer, I will never abandon my mistress."

"I shall see you one day, Genoveva."

And the beautiful deer disappeared into the brambles of the forest. Every day, after meals, Genoveva filled her small basket with leftover food that she would share with the poor of the village, who, for the charitable alms, so kindly given by the slave, knew how to thank her, loving and venerating her.

Genoveva still loved them much more. If one of them was sick, she treated them with admirable dedication, dressing their wounds, washing his clothes, eluding the mistress's vigilance as best she could.

One day, however, Genoveva was leaving with her basket of food at the moment she was rushing into the garden, riding her elegant horse. When the mistress saw the slave leave with the basket, already quite suspicious due to the countless complaints that reached her ears, she asked her:

"What are you carrying there?"

"Flowers, Royal Mistress!"

"Let me see them."

Genoveva shivered for a moment, but suddenly, in a burst of courage, she discovered the basket and, instead of the food in it, beautiful roses in bloom appeared and dazzled the lady's eyes. In her mind, there was no doubt about the slave's fidelity. However, the intrigues of the people of the palace did not cease, and once the lady's jewel box disappeared, everyone with one voice attributed the theft to Genoveva.

Even eyewitnesses appeared; and faced with this evidence and the most solemn oaths, the queen came to the conviction that the slave had been the author of such a monstrous crime, ordered her to be called to her presence and asked angrily:

"Genoveva, how did you abuse my kindness?"

"I, Real Mistress?"

"You stole my jewelry box, and if you don't give it back to me by tomorrow, you shall be punished."

Genoveva did not murmur a single word, and, withdrawing, she spent the whole night, in her poor room, shedding copious tears, and had a dream. At dawn she was awakened by a maid who came to tell her that the lady was ordering her to go upstairs. Genoveva complied with the order immediately. Upon arriving, the queen asked him again:

"Genoveva, what about my safe?"

"Know, Your Highness, that the safe containing your jewels is in the possession of your maid, in the drawer of a wardrobe..."

After immediately searching the furniture, the precious safe was found and, soon after, the slave's wicked enemy was punished.

Genoveva was, however, endowed with rare beauty and the queen's son , who had recently returned from a distant war, had fallen in love with her. Genoveva did not respond to the boy's love.

He, however, constantly pursued her with declarations of love, which soon reached the queen's ears, who asked her one day if the accusations made about her were true.

"Yes, my mother, I just hope that Genoveva loves me to marry her."

"With the slave… Never!"

This time Genoveva was lost.

Mercilessly, the queen ordered one of her slaves to gouge out the poor girl's eyes and leave her in the depths of the forest, which was all done amid tears and screams from Genoveva, who, for a whole night, found herself blind and lost at the bottom of the forest.

Also from that night the young man disappeared from the palace forever. At dawn, the beautiful little deer appeared before Genoveva, which she could no longer see, but whose voice she heard.

"Do you want to follow me, Genoveva?"

"Who are you?"

"A poor deer from the forest."

"I will follow you."

They went and lived for many months in a small cabin in the forest, made of branches and brambles and infested with parasites.

In the morning they both went out in search of food, and returned to the hut at night, where Genoveva taught the deer how to pray.

They loved each other. No one has ever loved like them.

If Genoveva was sad, the deer made her happy, he went to collect flowers and fruits for her, told her that the sky was beautiful, told her what the birds' voices were saying...

One beautiful morning, however, the deer went out alone. It got dark, and he still hadn't come back.

Genoveva then groped her way out, tangling herself in the vines in search of her beloved companion.

Then, exhausted from crying and full of fatigue, she fell asleep, and when dawn broke, she, the blind one, saw, dizzy with amazement, the clear light of day, the forest, the flowers, the birds, the sky.

But what was her astonishment when she saw on the floor, prostrate, a beautiful young man, in whom she recognized the young man from the palace, with an extensive wound on his chest.

Genoveva took him to the cabin, healed his wound and never abandoned him.

However, she did not stop crying over the absence of her beautiful deer, when the boy, turning his sad, passionate eyes to her, asked her:

"But wasn't this little deer one that left you here and never came back?"

"Oh yes!"

Said Genoveva.

"And then he was injured by a wicked hunter while he was gathering flowers for his companion?

"Oh, maybe..."

"Well, this little deer..."

"Pray, tell..."

Pleaded poor Genoveva.

"It is me!"

Replied the youth, hugging her.

"I was under a spell. The fate that the Queen, my mother, had placed on me since childhood, of being sometimes a deer and sometimes a person, has now ended."

Days later, the Prince's wedding took place with the beautiful Genoveva, who now loved him as much or even more than when he was that beautiful little deer in the woods. Married, they went to live in the palace of the Wicked Queen who had died shortly before, asking for forgiveness from God for the harm she had done to her son and to Genoveva.

[pepperpills]

The Harvest - RE8 fanfic

The Harvest

A Resident Evil 8 fan fiction by Joana

Notes: It is a headcanon of Karl Heisenberg x Female Reader. I will be uploading chapters' parts everyday and a new chapter will be out every tuesday. English is not my mother tongue, so sorry if there are any grammar mistakes. Please, feel free to enjoy hehe

NSFW content.

Part I – Destiny (1)

It had been a week since the encounter with the creature in the woods surrounding Karl Heisenberg’s lot. It wasn’t the weirdest event you have seen though, of course; you grew up in one of the cabins close to the Village, you, and your people, were way familiar to the rusty metal sounds, the night fogs and the guttural growls living in the forest around the houses. Because of that, one day, when they grew nearer, your people knew the time had come and you too would be absorbed by the Village, being lead – not to say forced – to worship Mother Miranda and her children.

At first, it was odd, the mood was mournful as if your own family had lost the brightness of joy in their irises. Everything there felt uncanny as there was a sweet and mistrusting mist in the air.

You have always known about Miranda and the four lords, but had never laid your own eyes on them. Until your 20s, they have been nothing but whispers in the distance, folk stories to scare the youngsters, so they wouldn’t go too deep in between the trees and their twisted thin branches.

As the months and then the years passed by, your people started making that place feel like home. Luiza, Urias and their own have been very kind and supportive to all of you, they’ve shown you their believes, their rituals and their daily life; in return, the cabin folk shared their knowledge on herbs, flowers and wild animals, which meant hunting instead of raising them. It worked out fine, anyway, you knew you couldn’t stay in the cabins forever, there would be a time when the Village would grow and it did.

To this extent, you felt comfortable, you actually started sharing a feeling of belongness, especially when it came to rituals and festivals. It was astonishing how the Village would gather, sing, dance, bake and eat on special dates – mostly agricultural calendar ones – and helping organizing it, putting up the decorations, the horns distributed in clothes-line, the red fabrics waving as flags on the ceilings, all of these things were very reassuring.

Years passed by and transformed you into a woman, you had your periods every month, the etiquette practices and the daily choirs such as baking and feeding the animals (now you had pigs and chicken to look after). This, however, bothered you, not the baking though, that made you happy, but you would much more appreciate to help your father and brother with the machinery and hunt with the men, which you did, only hidden, for sport maybe, until you improved your stealth and archery abilities so it became a part of you that you liked much more than singing by the lake while doing laundry with the wives, even though that too had its appeal – music always got the best of you, particularly when it came along with dancing.

About the hunt, you would sell it to Duke, the impartial merchant that comes every week. He is the best way to maintain a low-profile about your illegalities, once he also deals with prohibited materials.

Thinking of it, you believe it was fine, definitely bucolic, but you never expected more. And for your mitigation, you had never yet seen all of the lords face-to-face. Miranda came by at least once a month, but mostly spent her precious time with the Village leader. She usually went back to her lot afterwards. The others were… Well, different.

Lady Beneviento was an in-doors person, the only one who had constant contact with her was her groundskeeper who lived closer to her house. Lady Dimitrescu was only seen in her castles’ windows looking way distant and melancholic to anyone that far from her stand. Her daughters too never left the upright protective stone walls, no one knew why, neither bothered to find out. Sometimes girls from the Village would be sent to the castle in order to serve them as handmaiden, some of them came back on special dates, but never spent the night in the Village.

Lord Moreau was the only one who visited more frequently, usually fixing demands for his experiments. He never stayed too long, he probably sensed that the people had less interest on him than they had in the other lords, which kind of made you pity Lord Moreau; however, you never had the courage to speak to him anyway and it didn’t feel very possible to be friends with the lords.

The last one, Lord Heisenberg, you had only heard in the distance when exploring the Altar surroundings, hidden from the others once it wasn’t allowed to be there without a good motive. The villagers told you, sitting around the fire in windy twilights, that he used to wander around more decades ago. Back then most of your friends were kids and nowadays don’t remember him very well, just his temper as he tends to easily lose patience.

They don’t know what made him stay in his factory for so long, but through the time he has been recluse, some said the metal noises have risen as if he has been working to exhaustion on something. When they told you these stories, you hoped never to find out and feared The Harvest.

That was it for your historic with the lords, at least until three months ago when you turned twenty years old and The Harvest took place again. The 20s was a unique age for the villagers, it was when they would know for sure if they had been chosen by Mother Miranda for some position in her family’s choirs. If you were free, as you’d like to say, you should start thinking about your role in the Village, finding a partner and leaving your parents’ place, if not… You would serve, not sure exactly how.

For your absolute pleasure, your 20th birthday was the most beautiful ceremony you had ever attended while living in the Village. It made it easier. It wasn’t made only for you, but for all of the young people who were turning that age in that year, as it was traditional to have The Harvest.

The small town was all dressed in light colours, paper lamps gave the paths a magical blue aura, goat wood sculptures painted white were disposed here and there blessing the birthday boys and girls. Women wore lace Prussian blue dresses below the knees and men were in grey linen tunics. People commemorated in the area around The Maiden of War with gasps and smiles.

You were dazzling. Tradition demanded that the 20s wore white, almost transparent, clothes. It was supposed to show you emerging as a pure being into something else, finally you would be considered a part of the mundane world after two decades of only experimenting it.

The families were responsible for their children’s garment, so each one looked different and unique. In your case, your mother, Ana, made a ravishing job, one that you could only have dreamt of.

Ana sewed you a white mesh ruffle midi dress, almost off shoulder if it wasn’t for the thin straps that held it there. The down skirt’s fabric was tulle and in the breast area you had a lace to tighten it, the ruffle there also worked on hiding your boobs, so you wouldn’t feel completely naked, only your nipples would show due to Fall’s weather.

After celebrating throughout the afternoon with wine, fresh pies, music and the villager’s affection for you and all the 20s being demonstrated, the night fell upon the Village and the oil lamps were lite, they started dancing in your vision like phantasmagorical illusions, inviting you to follow the way they headed. You didn’t fully understand back then, but it probably was Beneviento’s work.

Your heart throbbed immediately, the euphoria peaking your skin, making you feel electric. Maybe you were drugged, maybe a bit drunk, that didn’t matter, once what mattered was that you were absolutely surrendered by the moment. It felt almost like gluttony, the atmosphere made you want more of whatever there was to so deeply desire.

Attending the call, one by one, the 20s started walking towards the ceremony site were their parents, Mother Miranda and the four lords should be waiting for them. That year there were twelve of them, one more than last year, equally divided between men and women.

Even though it was prohibited for any villager, besides Luiza and Urias, to go past the area of the Altar, you knew where you were heading, you have explored every inch of the Village, quietly, never daring to talk about it with someone. On The Harvest, though, you were being guided. A magnificent deer appeared in front of you, it moved slowly, unafraid of your presence, he glanced at you and walked towards the site. You couldn’t help, but following it, somehow you were sure it would lead you to a pleasant event.

Past the gate and there they were, the four lords all together for the first time in your live. Strangely, you felt seduced more than scared, maybe it was the deer spells, maybe something else made you feel welcomed. The night was your wonderwall and nothing bad could happen to you.

[officialinuyasha]

Yashahime Episode 2 "The Three Princesses"

The episode starts with young Towa and Setsuna in the Forest of Ages. I want to note that the music that is playing during this scene is Towa's theme song in a more calm emotion played slow. Fun fact, that Towa's theme song does have Rin's theme song in it, for those who don't know. I have a video I made on that. Towa says that they have lived in the forest for a long time. Setsuna appears to not have her fur, either she gets it by puberty or hers was decorative from another animal. As we know the fur from Sesshoumaru is apart of his body, this was confirmed by Rumiko Takahashi in the InuYasha Profiles book under Sesshoumaru's profile. Again, the comparison to Sesshoumaru's belt is made here like I noted in my trailer breakdown. River (Kawa) or winding stream represents continuity and the future. Based from their color palettes given to us in the first artwork we were given, Towa is blue and Setsuna is purple. While in this scene it appears that Setsuna is wearing blue and Towa is wearing purple. When Setsuna is older, she is wearing blue with a purple belt. While Towa is wearing a yellow belt like Sesshoumaru and Setsuna seems to be wearing the faded red belt that Rin wore from the Final Act.

- Towa's memories have began to fade when she's an adult. The thing she remembers the most is Setsuna - So anything else we see in this flashback may be missing details. - The animals shown in her memories might be the other characters. There were two deer coupled together, and a fawn that could be InuYasha, Kagome and Moroha. With another deer running after. The boar had two twin babies Almost like K'inu and Gyokuto. My friend https://twitter.com/Mokomoko_fluff made even more comparisons and she describes more into the past theory with the animals, as well as the Young Twins clothing comparison to the parents. So please follow her. Towa begins to run too fast, and let's go of Setsuna's hand. When recalling this memory she even questions why she let go of her hand... Setsuna pushes Towa out of the way. I know some people were confused, but as I played it slowly frame by frame. Especially when Setsuna says "Look out!" Setsuna pushes Towa out of danger. Towa can't track Setsuna's sent because of the fire. In this moment, I want you to take account of the Japanese terms used.  In English we have words like scent, odor, aroma, and so one. Sesshoumaru in the Japanese manga uses the term aroma (sweet smelling) for Rin, while for others he used regular smell. In this moment Towa is using the same scent term that Sesshoumaru uses for Rin - A Sweet smelling Aroma. Towa's pearl activates when next to roothead. Probably because she's in danger, or many other reasons as to why it could activate. We hear Ne no Kubi - or it's English name Roothead talking about Towa's pearl. Towa is holding onto a vine until it tears and sucks in Towa. Towa goes through what is officially called the "Tunnel of the Tree of Ages" also known as the "rainbow corridor" as to what Moroha calls it later on in the episode! So this could imply that the pearls have to do with this. Towa wakes up from Buyou, and Souta finds her. Souta notices that she's from the Feudal Era - "It looks like you've come from place far, far away, huh?" Towa wasn't sure why, but she knew she could trust Souta. When they go looking for Setsuna, another version of Towa's theme plays. They never found Setsuna, it had been ten years since Papa Souta adopted Towa. In this moment it's further into Towa's song in this slow version, and we can clearly hear Rin's theme song in it. I got chills. They're living into a condominuim, and she goes by Towa Higurashi now. She says her memories have faded and lately she had been thinking it may have all just been a dream. It shows her weapons, including Kikujuumonji at the top. She has a lot of workout equipment and a punching bag. She's got trophies. Towa says Setsuna definitely was not a dream. She says it's such nice weather, then she goes to brush her teeth to get her day started. Her younger sister Mei is on her way to go to school, tells Towa Good-Morning and mentions that it's Towa's first day at a new school. She tells Towa to not get into any fights. Then she leaves to go to school. Towa tells her to be safe. Towa then says that Mei is "Papa Souta's true daughter". "She's a bit shy and naive, but she's also cute, smart, honest and quite talented." She's Towa's precious little sister. But she feels that maybe she cherishes Mei so much because she's a substitute for Setsuna, whom she was never able to find. The flower on her bag - Plum Blossom (Ume) is the first flower to bloom in the spring and is known as the ‘Flower of Peace’. A protective charm against evil, it also represents longevity, renewal and perseverance. Identified by rounded petals. We also see Towa wearing a robe that has yellow Plum Blossoms on it. Towa says she dresses the way she does because it's easier for her to fight. Souta is worried about Towa being dressed like a boy because it's an all-girls school this time. Because he doesn't want her to get into fights anymore. She walks to school and says that no one seems to get it - That transferring to an all-girls school won't stop the fighting. The ones she takes down always come back for more. The bullies show up thinking Towa is trying to run away from them. The bullies are actually a cameo appearance of Lum's Stormtroopers or also known as Lum's Guards from Urusei Yatsura. She answers "Who said I was running?" In the next scene is shows her beating them up. At one part one of them says "Stop it! Itll break! Help!" in this moment she pauses and stops. She says that the fighting hasn't stopped ever since she stopped a bully in elementary school. And there'd be more each time she changed schools. As she picks up her bag, we see the flower upclose again. She says that they are all weak and "Why can't they just keep their heads down?" The bullies say "That ain't no woman." "Why doesn't she finish us off?" "She's too soft." "But at this rate..." "We'll have to ask Bro for help." That part made me laugh. BRO Towa reaches her school, Saint Gabriel Academy - It's her first day and she's late already. "St. Gabriel Academy" is the name of the school where the main characters went to in the series NEW MOBILE REPORT GUNDAM WING. Which was made in 1995 by Sunrise! She's making sure no one is looking, then she hops over the gate. We see the Feudal Era - Moroha is sitting by a waterfall, picking her ear. She can tell that there's Demon Slayers behind the trees. She says that she wouldn't be slain, not even in a 1000 years. She says that she will turn them all into lunch for her Kurikaramaru. This could be a reference to the swords possible absorption ability like Tessaiga, or even Dragon Scaled Tessaiga. I can't get enough of Moroha, I loved it when she laughed.

Hisui shows up and calls her "Moroha the Demon Killer" this also refers to her being a Bounty Hunter. Hisui's theme song sounds like it uses notes from Miroku's theme, of course that being his father. I'll have to wait until the songs are released for me to make a proper comparison. He says on behalf of the local villagers, that they've come to punish her. "In the name of the Moon I will punish you!" He throws Hiraikotsu and she jumps out of the way. Moroha says that they've got the wrong target. She hasn't left the mountains, she was just waiting for her bounty to show up. Hisui says "A demon /and/ a bounty hunter? All the more reason then!" He was charging at her while Kohaku tells him to stand down. Kohaku calls Moroha, "Lady Moroha" - and asks if another demon is responsible for the attacking the village. She says thats right but that it's too late - they've made her mad. Now she pulls out her rouge that contains the red pearl. You can use rouge as lipstick as well. It looks like a nipple. MOON PRISM POWER! - MAKE UP. Okay, these Sailor Moon references are killing me. She says "With this rouge, I become Beniyasha, Destroyer of Lands. Tremble before the bloodthirsty dawn." Setsuna interrupts Moroha with her Naginata. Moroha says "Hey, you Demon Slayers work with an interesting companion." "You're a half-demon, right? I'm also a..." Setsuna immediately says "Silence! You're dead." Moroha pulls out her sword and the fight starts. It seems that Moroha knows about the weapon Setsuna is using the Kanemitsu no Tomoe. Moroha asks if she wins the match if she could have it. Hisui wants to back her up Setsuna but she says thats theres no need. Moroha says "So your name's Setsuna, huh?" Moroha licks her lips giving her a nickname "All right! Sorry "Setsu," but I'll be taking your weapon!" The battle animation here was beautiful. In this moment Setsuna's pearl starts to glow in her eye. By many reasons this could be happening, Setsuna's life being endangered, or because Moroha's red pearl is nearby, it could be telling her that Moroha is not an enemy. Moroha says "You have a rainbow pearl too?" It seems that Moroha knows about the Rainbow pearls, but that Setsuna doesn't know what they are. As this happens Mistress Three Eyes senses the pearls powers and comes out. The zoom in animation of her eye, that's really detailed. Mistress Three Eyes was the demon that was attacking the village. From the Yashahime Keyword, we also know that Mistress Three Eyes is the Granddaughter of Mistress Centipede from the first InuYasha Episode. She lunges at Setsuna Hisui picks up Setsuna quickly, avoiding Mistress Three Eyes. In this moment Setsuna could be having visions because of her pearl activating. Hisui asks if she's okay and she snaps out of it. Moroha knew that Mistress Three Eyes would show up since she has the red pearl with her. Moroha has been after her from the start. She says "Time to claim my bounty!" as she jumps to attack Mistress Three Eyes, but she's tougher than Moroha though. Instead she pulls out her bow, prepares an arrow for firing and says "Hey Demon Slayers! Get lost, unless you want to get caught in the crossfire!" "Take this! Heavenly Arrow Barrage!" She shoots an arrow, and it cuts Mistress Three Eyes hair, passing her head. Mistress Three Eyes thinks she missed but she was very wrong. The first arrow vanished and then Loads of arrows appear, raining down onto Mistress Three Eyes. Kohaku says "Are those Sacred Arrows? No, those are the Arrows of Sealing. How could Beniyasha have such spiritual power?" Moroha says she did it! In this moment Mistress Three Eyes shouldn't be moving. But here's where things get interesting, Mistress Three Eyes begins to move, however in this moment a purple aura appears. This is the same purple aura we see from Episode 1 when Roothead swallows bandits. Could it be that some arrow shafts  are made from the fallen branches of sacred trees? However this isn't true for all arrows as we know powerful priestess such as Kagome and Kikyou have been able to channel their spiritual powers from regular arrows. Could it have been that these arrows were made from Rootheads fallen branches at some point? She was able to take Moroha's shell that containted the Red Pearl out of thin air. Could it be that Roothead took it from Moroha to give to Mistress Three eyes on purpose to lure the pearls to him? Or Mistress three eyes has a different power than her grandmother. It's possible that even having a pearl nearby she could get stronger, similiar how Mistress Centipede got stronger with the Shikon Jewel nearby. The thing is that Mistress Three eyes was only able to move her head up when this happens, so something tells me Roothead has something to do with it.

MIstress Three Eyes swallows Moroha's pearl and becomes stronger, slightly transforming. So she goes after Setsuna, who has the Gold Pearl while they try to divert her to Lady Kaede.

Towa is at school, with her homeroom teacher Osamu Kirin who seems to be a cameo of Mousse or Dr Tofu from Ranma 1/2. He tells her a British Proverb with an Engrish accent "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." So he overlooked her being late for the day. Which she seemed surprised that he didn't call her parents and let her off the hook so easily. Three of the bullies seemed to be stalking Mei. Then we see Towa jumping onto the roof to look at her sword. She says that this is the moment when she feels at peace. She says "The celebrated sword Kikujuumonji, a national treasure." Towa says that "she was told" that her sword once belonged to the shogun Yoshiteru Ashikaga - Although it might not be true though, you know what Gramps said about So'unga. If he was the one that gave her the sword, I wonder how she got it. I also want to note that Kiku is also a Chrysanthemum flower. Yet another flower symbolism of Towa. It is the symbol of regal beauty, rejuvenation and longevity. Used as the Imperial Seal of Japan, it also represents autumn. The guard on her sword seems to be a flower shape as well. Towa sniffs the air, and she can tell that Mei is crying at Grampa's shrine. The bullies tied up Mei, Grammy and Grampa Higurashi. Bro seems to be Kuno Tatewaki from Ranma 1/2 Towa says "This world is full of the weak. And because they're weak, they band together and pick on people weaker than them. I'm really sick of it."

I like it when Towa says "I can show you a crying face. But it won't be mine. It'll be yours!" Towa fights them with her fists. One of the things I mentioned in my trailer breakdown was the symbol on Towa's sword bag. That appeared to be one of the Kagome symbols. But we'll see what it really is or actually means down the line, I'm sure. One of the guys take out a knife and threatens them. So Towa takes out her sword and drops the bag, we get to see the symbol once again and it appears to be ten pointed. A decagram, based on this frame.

A different version of Towa's theme plays. Towa takes hits because she remembers her promise to Papa Souta, to never use her powers in front of other people. Of course in this moment, she is sorry that she can't keep her promise. She throws the other dude, saves the day. Mei doesn't want her to fight, and says "I know you want to be more girly and cute, don't you?" Towa says "Um, I guess there's a part of me that can't answer immediately." Mei was like "You're supposed to say 'yes' even if you don't mean it!" Okay little girl.

All is well the bad guys leave as they think the police were coming, but Gramps says that they just so happened to be passing by. Mei and Towa have a sweet moment. Towa says she's sorry. Towa says Living in this world is hard. If you don't follow set rules, you're treated as an outcast. Girls must be feminine, and boys must be masculine." And that she has been sick of that. The whole gender roles, and having to follow those rules. I really love that she talks about stuff like that. This is what I've been really wanting to see more of especially coming from the Feudal Fairytale universe. The story of InuYasha was the internal struggles of having to follow what society wants, being an outcast. She said that but she thinks it's time to stop being stubborn. There's nothing that could ever justify making Mei cry that much. Towa is so sweet and loving, she cares so much. Like the voice actors said in Animage, she represents her mom's personality. Another cute part where Towa's smelling something that she's smelled before, something nostalgic as the breeze passes through the Sacred Tree. She questions why it was coming from the Tree. Then we see Lady Kaede coming out of her hut. She's like "What the Hell?" seeing Mistress Three Eyes chasing Setsuna and Hisui on Kirara. So Setsuna says she was going to use to her advantage that Mistress Three Eyes wants the pearl in her eye. Which is funny to me because that was Moroha's idea first. So, here are some things to note from Moroha with her baiting as a Bounty Hunter. Setsuna drops down and uses her Senpujin, or Cyclone Burst. This sounds a lot different from the trailer. I preferred how it sounded in the trailer - But I'm sure that we'll be hearing it a lot more. As not all announcing of special attacks are going to sound the same each time. "My name is Setsuna. Those are my only words for you. That is why you will die tonight." Moroha interrupts with her Crimson Dragon Wave. Atta girl. That's my daughter. You tell her! That was your bounty first. Setsuna said a famous Sesshoumaru line "Ridiculous". Setsuna can't seem to move at all, and Mistress Three Eyes takes her Gold Pearl. Swallows it and does the same transformation we see that her grandmother Mistress Centipede - becomes in the first InuYasha episode. Moroha seemed to be more excited that she was becoming stronger, like it would be more fun of a fight that way. I really like that about her. "Hold on. I've got you, Setsu!" And Setsuna's like "Don't call me that!" Roothead inside of the Sacred Tree/Or known as the Tree of Ages begins to glow blue, and talks. He says "I sense the Rainbow Pearl for the first time in over ten years! And two at that! By the power of the Tree of Ages, I now return to this world!" By hearing this, I know from the first movie the Tree of Ages are linked to all different times. So it could be that Roothead can also travel between ages as well. "Could this smell be..." All three of them get sucked in. Sent to the Modern era. One thing to note is that Moroha is being thrown and landing the same way that Kagome did from the first episode of InuYasha. Towa is amazed to see her sister Setsuna back, her silver pearl begins to glow in her eye. Calling out Setsuna's name. Moroha says "Damn it. I feel so weak. It is because I crossed through the rainbow corridor?" I'm really curious as to what she means by that. So I'm sure we'll figure out more of what the Tunnel of the Tree of Ages does. She could be exhausted from time traveling. Which would be something that's new, but heck she was thrown as well. Mistress Three eyes gettin' all excited about getting a pearl for each of her three eyes.

"Setsuna! I'll save you!" and her sword breaks. So this is what leads to Towa creating a blade from her demonic energy that we will see in the next episode -

The animation in this episode was beautiful especially down to the water effects when Towa and Setsuna were drinking water, even when Towa was walking to school you could see the water effects there as well. Kaoru Wada's music does not dissappoint me, ever.

[stardancerluv]

A Knight and a Princess’s Heart Entwine

Part Eight

Summary: Curiousity leads to interesting developments

The two of you took off the day from exploring your future lands. Unsure, and worried about the stranger you encountered the two of you stayed in the clearing.

Luckily, the day had stayed dry and warm. Sitting, against the wheels of the wagon Elmont, fell fast asleep ar some point. You stayed beside him, since you had brought your book, you read it. For your part, you had wanted to sleep but could not for some reason.

Growing restless, sat and looked over Elmont. Your fingers ran through his soft hair. He only made a soft sound so you felt brave. Taking one of his hands you took off his gloves. You held you hand to his. His was so much larger, had such strength. You brought it to your cheek. You sighed and closed your eyes.

You brought his hand to where you felt your heart. “You will always have my heart.” You whispered and putting his hand in his lap, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and got up. Stretching, you looked at his dagger wondering if you should bring it with you.

You pressed your lips together. You were being silly, no one would be all the way here. Giving, Elmont a look you smiled, he needed to sleep.

Looking around you smiled, everything was so lovely. There were flowers and off you saw a deer, it had such a regal stance. Continuing further in you spotted saw a lovely pond you were so amazing. On its surface were lily pads with the most beautiful flowers.

Completely, enchanted by the scene since it reminded you a fairytale you decided to take a small dip. Going over to where there were some rocks, you pulled off your gloves then boots and dress. With just an under shirt and under wear on, you dipped a toe in. It was cool.

So you wadded a little out so you could get used to it. The warm weather it would be refreshing. Finally, you waded out further and then further still. Sighing contently you wadded around. It felt so good. Dipping your head back to relished looking up at the clear blue sky, especially since the day before the clouds had been have gray and heavy. Finding a rock to stand on in the water you gently drew a lily pad close and inhaled deeply. It had such a sweet aroma.

******

Stirring, part of him feeling something different Elmont woke up. Blinking, he rubbed an eye and stretched. “Y/N,” he mumbled.

Finally, opening his eyes he noticed one of his gloves were off and he didn’t see you anywhere. When he stood, with his hand on his dagger his glove fell to the ground. He picked it up. Feeling, warm he shed the other glove and put them in one it his pockets.

Calling out your name, he looked around but you were no where to be seen. When you didn’t answer, unease knotted in his stomach. There were no signs of a struggle and that your book was closed and sitting near where he been it made him wonder.

Knowing, how you always had a very strong sense of curiosity be decided to venture into the forest. Looking, carefully he soon caught your movements or at least he hoped they were.

Hearing, a splash he stopped and lingered along the trees. He slowly drew close. Stopped, the knot of fear in his stomach became immediately undone as he watched you in the water. You were swimming and doing tricks where only your bare legs stuck out. You were like the fairy creatures, his mom would tell him about at bedtime.

You impossibly more beautiful in your chemise swimming around. The delight in seeing you like this was so strong. He down right made him breathless. His stomach was filled with knots of pleasure.

Not wishing, to scare you he began to think of how to walk to you. So as not to scare you, he had thoughts of walking and then arriving but louder.

Stepping back, he stepped right onto a a branch. He could literally watched you stopped and your eyes grew in fear.

“My precious sun, it’s me. I came looking for you.” He finally announced and came from the trees.

From, that water you gave a positively radiant smile. “Hi Elmont.” You stood up and saw more then he ever intended. He felt rooted where he stood. “Join me! The water is a little cold but then it feel so good. Elmont?” You tilted you head to one side. You splashed him. The water certainly felt cold but it also did feel good. He smiled and was brought back from the surprise of seeing, well so much of you. All that remained was his underwear.

“Oh, yes! Ok!” Seeing where you placed your clothes, soon he was shedding his cloak, his tunic, breeches and soon boots; he then made you place them beside yours.

Went right in, and he immediately shivered and called out with brought a burst of laugher from you.

“Oh...Elmont, My precious moon I told you it was cold.” You went over to him.

“This is not cold...it is freezing.” You gave a soft look, and then he sighed as he felt your arms go around him. He stilled, and inhaled sharply.

“Are you ok?” You had was warm on his cheek.

Shivering, he nodded. In his head, images of laying with you, filled his mind. They were strong. He could taste his need to be close with you.

He moved from his arms. He wasn’t very happy with these thoughts. “Did you ahh,” he was at a lost for words. “Smell these lilies?” Walking, past you to the lilies, what he saw come over your face could only be interpreted as maybe hurt or confusion. That honestly stung. But this growing desire to lay with you was very strong.

Getting used to the water, he fully immersed himself before standing closer to the lilies. “Have you smelled these yet?” He tried to giving one of his easy going smiles.

“I have. They smell very nice.” Your voice was chipped as you spoke to his back.

He felt each word. “So they smell as good as you?” He smiled at you over his shoulder.

Seeing, the hurt and how it tinged your eyes he finally decided to go over to you. Easily he wrapped his arms around you. You mouth took a grim line.

“My little sun, you’re upset with me aren’t you?”

You sighed. “Yes.”

“Little sun, you want me to be honest with you always right?”

“Yes.”

“Now, what I am going to tell me you may not want to hear.”

“Look, I am on my cusp of being wed to someone I do not care to meet or be wed to what could you tell me that is worse then that?”

He nodded. “Yes, I can’t imagine what you have been feeling in your heart.” He swallowed. “Ok, well when I woke up and found you gone, I went looking.”

“I didn’t go far.”

He nodded. “Right. But I still had to look.” He reached up and began loosing the brain that held your hair in place.

Your hands went up. “What are you doing?”

He smiled. “I’ve always been fond of this being down, indulge me?”

“For you, Elmont I can do that.” You sighed then after drifting your hands in the water you finally wrapped your arms around him.

He smiled, that was the girl he met he mused seeing it down. “So, alright. I finally found you.”

“Elmont, why are you being so strange?”

“I never felt what I am about to tell you.”

“Oh!” You soften. “My dear moon, you know that you can tell me anything.”

He nodded, damn he mused. He really hoped it would be ok. He couldn’t drag this out any longer.

“When I first saw you well, I saw pretty much all of you.” He looked past you. This was almost harder then fighting giants. “Well, watching you, I really should call you my water fairy with all the things I saw you doing.”

You giggled. “You saw that?”

“Yes, it was wonderful to see.”

“Oh, I am so sure.” Gently, you pushed him and he captured your hands and held them to him.

He leaned and kissed your knuckles. “My sweet sun, my sweet water fairy.”

“Oh, Elmont.” You sighed.”

“When I saw you as you were.” He met your eyes, there was no going back now. “I wanted to lay with you. I wanted, I want to lay with you like a man does with a woman he cares for. Or as does when he loves a woman, like I love you.”

As you looked at him, all you did was blink your eyes.

“Is that everything, Elmont?”

“Yes.”

“So the day when we had to dry off you didn’t sneak any glances. The day we dried our clothes when we fell into the lake?”

“Only, a few.” He blushed, he could actually feel the heat fill his cheeks.

“Good, because I sneaked a few of you as well.” You admitted and your cheeks like his grew rosier. “And Elmont?”

“Yes.” Worry, entered his heart once again.

“I want you to.” Your voice was soft and gentle like the rest of you. He couldn’t have possibly heard what he thought he heard. “I want to lay with you like a man and a woman do.”

You reached up and let your fingers drift through his wet strands.

“Y/N, if we do and your husband were to fond out he could kill me and you. Or he could toss the two of us to a oubliette.”

“Yes, well I didn’t choose to marry him.”

“But my sweet sun.”

“I know ladies don’t chose who they marry.”

“Well, yes but..”

“What about Isabelle and Jack?”

“That is an exception.”

“Why can’t I, can’t we be the exception?” You cried, tears finally came from your eyes. “Lay with me Elmont.”

“Oh, my sweet heart, my sun.” His breath was strangled as he tried to inhale.

@shantellorraine @darling-i-read-it @gothamsbatman @johallzy @rosionis @mylifeisbasedonashow @unfilteredmoonchild

[pikapeppa]

Cullavellan & FenHawke pirate AU: Stories

Chapter 28 of Where The Winds Of Fortune Take Me is up on AO3! In which Piper tells stories. Many stories. Of different kinds. (NSFW. bahahah.)

There are TWO sketches for this week too!! But the second one is saucy... go to the AO3 chapter to check it out!! 

Read here on AO3 instead! ~6300 words.

- CULLEN - 

Cullen smiled and sipped his beer as he listened to Merrill and Piper’s storytelling. He and a handful of the crew were in a haphazard circle on the deck and listening as Merrill and Piper took turns telling stories about the elven gods. The evening’s activities had begun as something of a lesson in elven history prior to the Lady Luck’s journey to the Arlathan Forest, but the gathering had become more and more informal as the inevitable drinks began to flow.

Merrill was giggling at some interjection Piper had made. She wiped a tear of mirth from her eye before continuing her tale. “As I was trying to say, Andruil turned Ghilan’nain into a beautiful halla – the very first halla. With her keen eyesight and her keen sense of direction, Ghilan’nain found her way home to her sisters, and there they lived happily together… until Fen’Harel found them.” The little cook’s smile grew mysterious. “But that’s another story.”

There was a murmur of interest from the crew, and Varric nodded approvingly. “Very nice cliffhanger, Daisy.” He turned to Hawke, who was sitting cross-legged beside him. “See, this is why she proofreads for me. Daisy’s got a knack for storytelling.”

Hawke sighed dramatically. “I understand, Varric. You need an ego boost, you come to me. You need an actual brain, you go to Merrill.”

Varric snorted in amusement. From across the informal circle, Anders called out to her. “Come on, Hawke, you have a brain. Maybe just not for proofreading.” 

Hawke blew him a kiss, and Fenris shifted restlessly beside her. Then Cole spoke from his position perched on the taffrail near Piper and Merrill’s heads. 

“If she was a deer, how did she sleep?” he asked.

Merrill blinked up at him. “What do you mean, Cole?”

Cole lifted his shoulders. “There are no holes for hooves in a bed. Did she stand?”

Merrill smiled. “Oh! Well, you see, Ghilan’nain was able to change from a halla to an elf and back again. And actually, that’s one of the things that drew the Dread Wolf to her. Or so the legends say,” she said enigmatically. Then she patted Piper’s shoulder. “But it’s the Captain’s turn for a story now.”

Anders groaned. “Not Piper’s turn again. Her stories are always an enormous joke.”

“Don’t forget a terrible exaggeration,” Dorian added. “Sometimes they’re a terrible exaggeration.”

 Piper punched Anders in the arm. “Excuse all of you! What mutiny is this?”

Varric waved a hand. “Yeah, cut the Captain a break. Sometimes her stories are true. Like the time she outwitted a handful of qunari with a ball of twine, a handkerchief and a measuring stick.”

Cullen lowered his stein and looked at her in surprise. “Is that true?”

“Almost true,” Fenris said. “They were tal-vashoth, not qunari.”

Anders tutted. “Like that detail makes any difference to the story.”

Fenris shrugged carelessly and sipped from his bottle of wine, and Hawke waved her hands impatiently. “Come on, enough of this, I want to hear another Piper story.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “I would as well.”

“Aren’t you both just adorable,” Piper purred. She winked at Cullen from across the circle, then clapped her hands once. “All right. Here’s another story of the Dread Wolf. Once upon a time, during a very hot summer, the Dread Wolf had been walking for a three whole days and three whole nights without a drop of water. Luckily, he came upon a tavern…”

Varric sighed playfully. “Here we go.”

Hawke poked his arm. “Hush!”

Piper winked at her and continued her tale. “... but the tavern didn’t allow wolves to come inside. The Dread Wolf was so desperately in need of a beer that he came up with a plan. He found a sapling and made a bow–”

Dorian interrupted. “I thought this creature was a wolf. How did he–?”

Hawke tutted and threw a cork at him. “It’s a metaphor, obviously,” she said loudly.  

Dorian raised his eyebrows. “Is it, though? That’s not what Merrill’s stories are implying.”

Everyone hushed him loudly, and Piper grinned. “Thank you. The Captain is speaking,” she announced. “Now, the Dread Wolf made a bow and an arrow, but he had no feathers for fletching. ‘That’s all right,’ he thought, ‘it will be a slow arrow instead.’ So he stood back and took a deep breath… and he shot the slow arrow right over the tavern.”

Cullen blinked. “Over the tavern?”

Piper smiled at him. “That’s right, Golden Boy: over the tavern. He shot the slow arrow, then settled down beside the tavern to wait. Later that night, a drunken man came out of the tavern with a full stein of ale in hand. He spotted the Dread Wolf, and for one single second, the wolf’s eyes met the man’s.” She paused and looked around at everyone suspensefully, and when her hazel eyes met Cullen’s, the tiniest hint of a smile lifted the corner of her scarred lips.

A little jolt of contentment squeezed his heart. Then Piper suddenly snapped her fingers. “And that’s when the slow arrow came down and struck the man dead,” she said. She folded her legs and rested her palms sagely on her knees. “The dead man’s stein of ale fell into the Dread Wolf’s lap without a single drop spilled. And that, boys and girls, is how the Dread Wolf got his drink.”

Anders clicked his tongue ruefully. “Brutal bastard, this Dread Wolf.”

Cole folded his legs up on the taffrail. “Waiting, wanting, wandering the world. Justice, not revenge, but the faces are close.”

Cullen frowned slightly at Cole’s perplexing comment, but Merrill smiled up at him. “I think I know what you mean, Cole. The Dread Wolf can be very patient when it suits him. But sometimes he just likes to do mischief for mischief’s sake.” She turned to Piper eagerly. “Is it my turn?”

“Absolutely, my lovely lethallan,” Piper said with a flourish. 

Merrill beamed at everyone. “All right. Here’s another tale of the Dread Wolf’s mischief. There once was a farmer who wished to dam a river to irrigate the crops for his village. But in the next village over, there was a fisherman who wanted to divert the river to supply fish for his people…”

Cullen sipped his beer again as Merrill told her tale. He was listening to Merrill, truly he was, but he couldn’t help but gaze at Piper while he listened. The lanterns lit her complexion to an even warmer shade of its usual burnished bronze, and as he often did, Cullen marvelled at the contrast between her bight silvery hair and the deep sunkissed gold of her skin. Not to mention the fascinating pale patterns of the ink that decorated her entire back, from the dip at the base of her spine up to the delicate nape of her neck… 

Hawke suddenly plopped herself down between him and Fenris, and he jolted in startlement. 

“Cullen!” Hawke exclaimed. “Don’t you love–”

He held up one hand and darted a look at Merrill, who was still animatedly telling her story. “Quietly please, Hawke,” he murmured.

She winced. “Shit. You’re right. Sorry.” She lowered her voice. “Don’t you love it here on the Lady Luck?”

On Hawke’s other side, Fenris smirked, and Cullen forced himself not to laugh at her tipsiness. “Yes, I do,” he said politely. “I’m glad to see that you’re feeling at home here, as well. I was concerned at first.”

She tilted her head. “Why? Because I’m the precious pampered Belle of Kirkwall?”

He blinked in startlement. It was still something of a shock at times to hear Hawke speaking in such a blunt manner. He was still far more accustomed to her immaculate manners than her brashness. “Yes, actually,” he admitted. “I had assumed it would be a difficult transition for you. Navy life was a difficult transition for me, and I was prepared for it.”

Hawke shrugged and stretched her legs out. “Not really. I love Merrill’s cooking, and the dried rations aren’t so bad. I love being Anders’ assistant, and the crew’s hammocks are quite comfortable! Though Fenris’s bed is even nicer.” She turned and winked at Fenris, who huffed in amusement and sipped from his bottle of wine before offering it to her. 

She took the bottle and took a gulp, then turned back to Cullen once more. “Besides, desperate times call for desperate measures. If you get a chance to start a new life, you don’t turn that down. As you know,” she added with a friendly squeeze to his arm.

Cullen smiled. “That is true,” he said, with a fond glance at Piper. 

Then he suddenly realized something odd. He turned back to Hawke with a small frown. “Hawke, it occurs to me that I never did learn why you left Kirkwall,” he said. He knew that her family was stained by a bit of scandal, what with Leandra Amell’s marriage to the lower-status Malcolm Hawke. But the Hawkes were one of the more well-off families in Hightown. Cullen had tried to avoid the petty gossip as much as possible, but he’d always been under the impression that the Hawke family was content. Or stable, at the very least.

Hawke’s eyes widened. “Oh Maker, I didn’t tell you, did I? Well, you certainly heard about my engagement to Duke Prosper.”

Fenris shifted slightly beside her, and Cullen glanced at him apprehensively before replying. “I was aware, yes,” he said. “It sounded like a prosperous match.” His eyes widened in horror as he realized what he’d said. “Er, no pun intended,” he said hastily.

She grinned. “Too bad. It would have been funnier if it was. But yes, the match would have been prosperous for my mother. Not for me, though.” She gave him an appraising look. “I don’t suppose you know of his reputation?”

Cullen frowned slightly. “Reputation?”

Hawke studied him for a moment longer, then folded her legs. “Duke Prosper has beaten and raped more than one of the female servants in his household,” she said baldly. 

A jolt of horror stopped his breath for a moment. He stared at her flat expression in horror. “Maker’s breath,” he finally stammered. “I… I didn’t know.”

“Most men don’t,” she said quietly. “Most people didn’t, actually, unless they were servants as well. Carver didn’t know, for example. He was just as shocked as you when I told him.” She gave Cullen a kindly look. “It’s not your fault. The good Duke hides it well.”

Did your mother know? Cullen wondered. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, but something about Hawke’s neutral expression – combined with the scowl on Fenris’s face – told him everything he needed to know.

He licked his lips nervously. “I understand why you wanted to leave,” he said carefully. “How did it come to pass? Your decision to, er…” He faltered as he tried to find the appropriate word. Before this, he would have said she had run away. But now, knowing the context… 

“How did I escape?” she said. She chuckled. “Honestly, it was almost a whim. A heartfelt whim, but still a whim. I wrote a shameless letter to Piper asking for her help, and one of my friends – er, one of our servants – she took it to Lowtown for me. Then I just waited and hoped Piper would receive the letter and take pity on me before I was married off.”

Cullen nodded slowly. “Piper did mention that she helped you to… to escape.”

“She and Fenris, yes,” Hawke confirmed. She chuckled and shook her head. “It was madness on their part, really. They didn’t even know why I wanted to escape; I didn’t want to put it in the letter in case someone got snoopy and read it. And Piper had only met me… what, twice? But she and Fenris came anyway.” She smiled at Fenris. 

Fenris shook his head. “Piper deserves the credit for your rescue, not I. She refused to leave without you. I–” 

“Don’t,” Hawke said firmly, and she took his hand. “You helped me to escape. That’s what matters.”

Cullen, meanwhile, was preoccupied by Piper’s role in Hawke’s escape. At the time that Piper had gotten Hawke out of Kirkwall, her capture would have meant her death, and Cullen hadn’t been present in Kirkwall to prevent it. Piper had risked her life to help a woman she barely knew, even at a risk to her own safety. 

But that was Piper. Her sense of right and wrong was very clear, as was her tendency to be both reckless and selfless in equal parts, and Cullen adored her for it, even as he worried about her.

He looked at her again from across the informal circle of crewmates. She was listening to Merrill’s story with a soft smile on her lips, and Cullen studied the scars on her face with a painful sort of fondness. There was the jagged slash that bisected her left eyebrow and ran just below her eye, and the scar on her left earlobe as well as the shallow slash that ran over her left hipbone: all testament to her haphazard weapons training and her tendency to ignore her left side, just as she tended to ignore the possible risks to her own life. She wouldn’t do anything to risk the lives of her crew without their wholehearted consent, but her own life…

“She is something, isn’t she?” Hawke said softly.

Cullen glanced at her distractedly. “Pardon me?”

“Piper,” Hawke said. “She’s wonderful, isn’t she? I’ve never met anyone like her before.”

Cullen swallowed hard. Hawke was wearing a knowing little smile, and he could feel his cheeks turning pink in response. “Neither have I,” he confessed. “Every pirate I had ever met before her was… a monster.”

Hawke’s eyebrows rose in sympathy, but Cullen shook his head. “It’s not worth speaking of,” he said. “Regardless, Piper was… from the moment we met, she was nothing like any pirate I had met before.” He rubbed his chin slowly. “I was unwilling to admit it to myself, but… I always knew she was more than just a pirate.” And now, more than a year after they had first met, Piper was still more than he’d ever imagined she would be. She was more than just a beautiful troublemaker who appeared once a month to give him hassles and stories. She was more than a mischievous criminal with a courageous heart. 

She was the woman who offered him help with no expectation of anything in return. She was the woman that Cullen trusted with his history and his heart, and who gave him those parts of herself in turn. Piper was the best thing in his life, the catalyst who had led him from a static life of routine to a more chaotic but much more joy-filled life that he would never otherwise have seen.

Hawke was beaming at him wordlessly, and Cullen bashfully ducked his head. Neither he nor Hawke had spoken for a few long moments, but he couldn’t help but feel that she understood exactly what he felt. 

She chuckled and stretched her legs out once more. “Who would have thought the Belle of Kirkwall and the Commander of the Kirkwall Navy would find love on a pirate ship of all places?”

Cullen smiled at her. “Who indeed?”

Hawke beamed at him, then nestled her head against Fenris’s shoulder. Then Piper’s loud voice pulled his attention. 

“All right, one more,” she said. She was sitting up on her knees, and she had a very mischievous look on her face. 

“Now this is a good one,” she said. “This is about a time that I faced the Dread Wolf myself.”

Cullen hid his smile in his stein,and Anders scoffed. “This ought to be good,” he said.

Piper grinned and punched him again. “Not only is it a good one, but it’s true. Just you wait.” She looked around at everyone. “One day when I was small, I was walking through the market when I felt a shadow following me.” Her face became serious as she continued her tale. “It was a large shadow with a very quiet whispering voice, but I couldn’t tell what the voice was saying. I turned around, but the shadow was gone.” She took a sip of beer, then continued in a low and somber voice. “This went on for two more days. The shadow would follow me with its silent steps, and every time I turned, it was gone. On the third day, however, I turned just in time to catch a glimpse of my shadow. It was a huge black wolf with glowing red eyes and slavering fangs.”

“The Dread Wolf!” Merrill exclaimed.

“Exactly,” Piper said. “The Dread Wolf had caught my scent. I knew right then and there that I had to make a trap to catch him. So I set up a crate propped up by a stick, and I caught a rat and roasted it, and I put the roasted rat in the trap and waited for the Dread Wolf to come.”

“Wait,” Anders protested. “Seriously? That’s what you used to lure the ancient elven god of mischief who kills men for beer and screws over entire villages? A roasted rat under a propped-up crate?”

Varric chuckled. “It’s so implausible, it must be true.”

Piper graced them all with an enigmatic smile. “Regardless of what our dear skeptical doctor thinks, that’s what I did. And sure enough, the Dread Wolf drew near.” She leaned forward and widened her eyes. “He was terrifying up close, let me tell you. His fur was dark and matted, and his eyes were bright with rage. He took one sniff of the perfectly roasted rat and stepped into the trap.” She clapped her hands sharply, making Hawke and Merrill jump in alarm. “The crate came down with a crash, and I had caught the Dread Wolf!”

Dorian raised his chalice of wine to her. “Benefaris. Well done, Captain.”

She held up a cautionary hand. “Hold on. The tale’s not yet done.” She leaned forward again and looked at them all with wide eyes. “I crept close to the trap and lifted the corner of the crate. The roasted rat was gone, and so was the Dread Wolf.”

Merrill shook her head wryly. “Oh, Piper. You should have known the Dread Wolf couldn’t be caught that easily.”

Piper shrugged and chuckled. “I know. I should have listened better to Deshanna’s stories. But sometimes, on very quiet nights when I close my eyes, I can still hear the Dread Wolf’s whispering voice.” She closed her eyes and held up a finger as thought she was listening to a voice that none of them could hear. 

A tense moment later, Hawke leaned toward her. “What does he say?” she asked eagerly. 

Piper was silent for another moment. Then she lowered her finger and opened her eyes. “He says…” She paused for a moment, then smiled. “‘I need a fucking stein of ale’.”

Everyone exploded into laughter and jeering, and Hawke and Dorian threw peanuts and corks at her. Piper laughed, then stood up and bowed. “All right, all right, don’t throw corks, just throw coin.” 

Dorian and Anders playfully booed her, and she let out another lovely rolling laugh. “On this note, I’ll turn the storytelling over to our resident author,” she said, and she bowed ostentatiously to Varric. 

Varric nodded graciously. “My pleasure, Captain. Now, I don’t have any ancient elf stories, but I’ve got an amusing story about this one over here.” He jerked a thumb at Hawke.

Hawke rested her fingers delicately on her chest and batted her eyelashes. “Who, me? Oh Varric, you shouldn’t tell a lady’s secret tales.”

Fenris snorted. “You aren’t a lady anymore. Your secret tales are fair game now.”

She laughed and draped her arms around his neck. “Right as always, Fenris. All right, Varric, slander away.”

Fenris smirked, and Varric launched into a story about Hawke hiding out in his book shop back before he had joined Piper’s crew. As Varric spoke, however, Piper was sidling around to Cullen’s side. 

She held out one hand to him as he drew near. “Come on, Golden Boy,” she murmured. “I have a story just for you.”

He eagerly reached for her hand, but he couldn’t help but glance guiltily at the assembled crew as he rose to his feet. “You don’t think the others will mind?” he murmured. 

“Not at all,” she said. “Come on.” She twined her fingers with his, and they began a leisurely stroll toward her quarters. “Remember how I told you I’d come up with a better story for you?” 

He gently squeezed her hand. The ‘story’ she’d told him – of her father’s death – was still on his mind. “Yes, of course,” he said. “But you don’t owe me any stories, Piper. There is no obligation.”

She shrugged cheerfully. “I know. But this is a good one.” 

He looked down at her. Her hazel eyes were twinkling, and her lips were curled with mischief once more. 

Then she launched into her tale. “There once was an elven girl who was the captain of a ship. She had dirty feet and a back covered with tattoos, and instead of a brain, she had a huge pile of silver hair that threatened to swallow anyone who came too close.”

Cullen chuckled. “Now Piper, that’s hardly a fair description of yourself–”

“Hush now, the Captain is speaking,” she announced. She pushed open the door to her quarters and ushered Cullen inside.

He entered her cabin, and she continued her story as she closed the door. “One day, the elven captain came to Kirkwall for an errand with her dwarven quartermaster. While she was in Kirkwall, she decided to take a little stroll up to the Hightown market. And it turned out to be the best idea she ever had, because who did she meet in the Hightown market but the Kirkwall Navy’s most handsome commander?”

Cullen ruefully rubbed the back of his neck. He knew what she was telling now: the story of the first time they’d met. 

“Maker have mercy on the commander,” he said jokingly.

She laughed and poked his chest. “Now, this handsome commander had a very stern frown on his face, and the elven captain almost had him pegged as another navy asshole.” He scoffed, and she grinned at him before going on. “But while she moved through the market, she watched him doing his patrol, and she noticed that he wasn’t hassling anyone. He wasn’t trying to provoke anyone to get them into trouble. He was just… observing. Just keeping an eye out to make sure everyone was safe.” 

Cullen looked at her in surprise. He didn’t know that she’d noticed him before they’d actually met. 

“You were watching me?” he asked.

Piper quirked an eyebrow as she approached him. “How could I – I mean, how could she not? The commander was so handsome, with a lovely strong chin and perfect hair that was more golden than the sun. But the longer she watched him, the more she noticed that he seemed to be not only a handsome human, but a fair one.” She reached up and stroked his cheek, then pushed him down to sit at the edge of the bed. 

An instinctive jolt of interest stirred in his groin, but Piper turned away from him and started slowly pacing around the ornately carved meeting table. “So the elven captain started looking around at the fancy Hightown wares,” she said. “The shopkeepers sneered at her and ignored her, but this was what she wanted: when a greengrocer was busy ignoring her, she stole three sachets of almonds and a loaf of fresh bread from his stall.”

Cullen ruefully shook his head. He still remembered the ruckus that the greengrocer had made. He’d been so dramatic that Cullen had initially thought Piper had attacked him. 

He gave Piper a chiding look. “It was a foolish move,” he said sternly.

She smirked, then continued to speak as she wandered around the meeting table. “The elven captain ran away with her almonds and bread, and the commander pursued her. But the commander had been doing quite a bit of desk duty–”

Cullen folded his arms. “I was not out of shape. You are very quick.”

She barked out a laugh. “All right, fine. The elven captain was so fast and clever that she got away from the commander for a little while. Once he caught up to her, though, he saw her giving the almonds and the bread to some dirty little elven kids who didn’t have any parents.” She came to a stop beside the table and met Cullen’s eyes, and the seriousness and warmth of her expression made his breath catch.

“She knew that the commander saw her,” Piper said softly. “But he let her give the children the stolen food, and he let the children run away. And he didn’t move to arrest the elven captain for theft.” She tilted her head.

Cullen swallowed hard. Her expression was very tender and curious, and Cullen wasn’t sure what to say. He still remembered his surprise and his uncertainty as he’d watched this wild-haired elven woman giving stolen food to a handful of orphans. He had genuinely never encountered anyone doing anything like this before – committing a risky crime for a selfless reason. He’d been so stunned that he’d simply watched as the children ran away.

He gazed wordlessly at Piper. A few heartbeats later, a slow smile lifted her lips.

She sauntered toward him. “The elven captain walked up to the commander, and saucy bitch that she was, she ran her finger down his chest.” Piper stopped in front of him, then trailed her finger along the length of his sternum.

A flush of warmth ran down his throat, and he swallowed hard. Then Piper sidled closer to him until she was standing between his legs. “The commander’s face turned red – yes, just like that.” She let out a throaty laugh as Cullen’s blasted cheeks started to warm. “And the elven captain said–”

“I remember what you said,” Cullen blurted. 

She smiled at him. “Oh yes? What did I say?”

He took a deep breath. “You said, ‘you’ll remember this as the day you almost caught Captain Piper Lavellan.’”

Her smile widened. She slowly traced one finger along the line of his jaw. “And what did I call you?” she murmured.

“You…” He cleared his throat. “You called me Golden Boy.”

Piper studied him with that warm and enigmatic smile, and Cullen just stared at her. Her expression was so knowing and so sly, and the way she was watching him was making him feel… well, his heart was thrumming in his throat, and he couldn’t decide if he was excited or inexplicably nervous. Or some tantalizing combination of both. 

She tilted his chin up. “And then you let me go,” she said thoughtfully. 

“I… I did, yes,” he stammered.

“Why?”

He nervously licked his lips. “What do you mean?”

She tilted her head curiously. “Why did you let me go? You had never let a criminal go before, had you?”

He shook his head. “No, I hadn’t.”

“So why me?” Her fingers left his jaw to slide along his temple through his hair, and he tried to ignore how good it felt as he scrambled for a reply. 

“It… I was not certain how to define the nature of the crime, given the… intent,” he finally said. 

Her hand returned to gently stroke his cheek. “And that’s how I knew you really were a Golden Boy,” she murmured.

He didn’t know what to say to that. His heart was pounding in his throat and his ears and – Maker save him, between his legs as well – and her sly and knowing smile was soft and tender now.

Then, to Cullen’s disappointment, she dropped her hand and stepped away from him. 

She started to pace again in a slow and aimless way. “Now this is a part of the story you don’t know,” she said. “The elven captain ran off and left the Golden Boy behind, but he stayed on her mind when she returned to her ship – which, by the way, was the finest ship in all of Thedas.”

Cullen released a slow breath and smiled. “Of course.” 

She shot him a quick grin. Then, as she continued talking, she started to untuck her loose linen shirt from her breeches. 

Cullen‍ straightened with anticipation, but Piper was still talking in that low, calm, storytelling sort of voice. “The elven captain knew she should be doing work, like writing in the captain’s log or sparring with the crew or patching her clothes. But all she could think about was that handsome Golden Boy.” She pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it on the table. 

She slowly pushed her hair back, and Cullen stared gormlessly at her pert nipples and the tattoos that framed her breasts. Then she was sashaying slowly toward him, and her half-nude body was competing for his attention with her husky voice. 

“She kept thinking about his lips,” Piper said. “How pouty they were while he was scowling, and how she’d like to lick the scar on his upper lip.”

Cullen’s eyes flew to her face. Her expression was one of unequivocal intent, and the excitement that was simmering low in his belly turned up to a boil. 

“You – she – you did?” he said weakly.

She nodded as she came to stand between his legs once more. “She kept thinking about this scar right here.” She ran the tip of one slender finger over the scar that marred his upper lip, then met his eyes. 

She raised her eyebrows, and Cullen nodded eagerly. 

Piper tilted his chin up once more and traced the very tip of her tongue over his lower lip, and Cullen instinctively parted his lips. Her tongue danced along his upper lip and across his scar, and Cullen waited breathlessly for her kiss– 

She nipped his lower lip, and he stopped breathing from sheer excitement. Then she released his chin and stepped away. 

He leaned toward her, but she was already out of his reach. “Piper,” he begged. 

She started speaking again as though she hadn’t heard him. “The elven captain also kept thinking about the Golden Boy’s body,” she said casually. “Now, she couldn’t really be sure what kind of body he had under his fancy navy uniform, but she liked to imagine that it was hard and muscled, with just the right amount of hair.” She was working the buttons of her breeches as she spoke, and Cullen stared stupidly at her slim and scarred hands for a moment before realizing that she watching him expectantly. 

He swallowed hard, then followed her implicit demand: he pulled off his shirt and laid it on the bed, then met her eyes.

The corner of her lips quirked in approval. “Yes, that’s exactly what the elven captain was thinking about.” She pushed her breeches down, leaving her body completely bare. 

His manhood pulsed with want, and he shifted restlessly on the bed, but Piper was talking once more. “Now this elven captain: she was a lusty lady, you see, so she was also imagining that Golden Boy’s cock, and how thick and hard it must be when he was ready to fuck.”

Maker’s breath. He wasn’t sure why, but every time Piper started up with these dirty words, it was like a part of his mind left him entirely, leaving him incapable of thinking about anything but the next naughty thing that might fall from her mischievous lips. 

He stood up and untied his sash, and a few ragged breaths later, he was naked as well. Piper’s heated gaze slid slowly down his body, and Cullen almost shivered with desire: her attention and her intention were so patently clear, and when her eyes came to land on his manhood, he was so aroused that he didn’t even blush. 

She bit her lip, then slowly raised her eyes back up to his face. “The elven captain was so turned on by the thought of this Golden Boy, with his handsome golden hair and his thick hard cock, and she wanted him lying back on her bed. She wanted to ride that handsome face of his while he licked her with his pretty mouth.” She raised one quizzical eyebrow.

His eyes dropped to the telltale sheen of moisture at her inner thighs, and he immediately sat on the bed. Before he was fully settled on his back, Piper was crawling over him. Her petite breasts skimmed over his swollen shaft, and Cullen gasped and jerked his hips. 

She bit his nipple gently, making him gasp again. By the time she was straddling his face, his manhood was almost aching with want, and his mouth was watering for her. 

She looked down at him and ran her fingers through his hair. “Lick me,” she purred. “Make me scream with that handsome mouth of yours.”

He didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his hands around her thighs and pulled her hips closer to his mouth, then placed an open-mouthed kiss between her legs.

She gasped. “Yes,” she breathed, and then she was undulating toward him, pushing her warmth toward his willing mouth, and Cullen enjoyed the rolling of her hips as she coated his lips and tongue with her sweet-and-salty taste. 

She moaned and rested her palms on the wall overhead, and Cullen’s manhood throbbed in response to her pleasured sounds. He lifted his hips by instinct, but Piper’s hips were still moving and pressing her swollen nub toward his tongue, and Cullen forced himself to focus on the sharpness of her breathing and her secret scent as she rocked herself toward his mouth.

She suddenly pounded the wall. “Fuck,” she gasped, and she threw her head back and let out a wild cry. The sound of it was guttural and uninhibited, sending a fresh thrill through his chest and straight down to his impatiently throbbing groin, and he clenched his fingers in her thighs as she rode his face to the end of her peak. 

She slid her hand through his hair as she climbed off of him, then reached down and wrapped her fingers around his pulsing shaft. “Now,” she gasped, “what the elven captain really wanted was for the Golden Boy to fuck her exactly how he wanted her.” She squeezed his manhood, and Cullen blurted out the first thing on his mind.

“You on top,” he said. “Piper, please, I… I would like–” 

“Whatever you want, Golden Boy,” she said, and she swiftly straddled his hips. “Take me how you want me.” 

“Gladly,” he panted. He sat up and shuffled back so he was resting against the wall, then grabbed her hips and pulled her onto his desperate manhood. 

Maker, she was so incredibly warm and wet. An unstoppable groan left his throat as he slipped inside of her, and a moment later, his palms were splayed on her luscious bottom as he pulled her against his body in a frenzy of want.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders. “You want me to fuck you hard?” she demanded.

“Yes,” he gasped.

She grinned, then thrust herself hard onto his lap, and he jerked and dropped his forehead against her shoulder. “Piper,” he begged. 

She pressed her lips to his temple. “Again?” she breathed.

“Please,” he moaned. 

She lifted herself once more and came down hard onto his lap, and Cullen pressed his gasping lips against the side of her throat. Then she was riding him fast and hard, and the tendon in her neck was salty and firm against his teeth, and his heartbeat was a frantic tattoo in his ears and her hair was a tangle of silver silk in his fingers–

He hit his peak in a sudden blinding rush, and Piper’s sharp cry of pleasure only made it better. By the time he could open his eyes once more, it was to discover that his hands were still twined in her long and wavy hair. 

He released her hair and leaned away from her, and a prick of guilt pierced his contentment: he’d left a bitemark at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. 

“Maker’s breath,” he murmured. He winced and gingerly stroked the mark with his thumb. “I – forgive me, Piper, I…”

She laughed merrily. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not sorry, not one bit.” She ran her hands through his dishevelled hair, and Cullen sheepishly admired her cocky little smile before she leaned in to kiss him.

Despite her playful mood, her kiss was sweet and soft, and he smile was just as soft when she pulled away. “Did you like my story?” she asked.

A shiver of residual pleasure ran down his spine at the memory of her carnal words, and he could feel his cheeks warming yet again. “I did,” he murmured. “I love all of your stories, Piper.” 

Her smile widened. She kissed him once more, and Cullen happily savoured her lips. Piper’s stories weren’t always serious or grounded; they ranged from suspenseful to irreverent, breathtakingly adventurous to absurd, and Cullen loved the spirited retellings of her imagination come to life. But the stories he loved most were the ones that were the most mundane. In these stories of her life, Piper was giving him little veiled pieces of her long-guarded heart. 

In telling him those stories, Piper was trusting him. And for that reason alone, Cullen would cherish every story she ever told.

(Check out the second sketch at the end of the chapter on AO3!)

[nebris]

     The Wiccan Triple Goddess  

The Goddess represents the feminine, nurturing side of Deity -intuitive, creative, and magical. She is the inner nature of Deity -the origin of the external Universe.

Thus the Goddess is the Creator, the Source - the God emerges from Her, when She sets the Universe into motion. The God is the Goddess’ Divine Child, formed from Her inner nature, Her “Other Self” as the Vangelo delle Streghe puts it. The God is also the Divine Consort, Whose union with the Goddess describes existence as we know it.

In this sense, the Goddess and the God are the polar forces also termed Yin and Yang. Yin, the Feminine, spiritual, emotive aspect of Deity which is within all things and Whose presence gives all things life. Yang the Masculine, physical, volatile aspect of Deity which manifests in motion and action and Whose permutations build up the outer form of things.

In Wicca, the Goddess is primarily revered through Her form as the Triple Goddess. As the God is often represented by the Sun, the Goddess is often represented by the Moon, and its three phases are taken as instructive as to the nature of Her being; the Waxing Moon representing creation and inspiration, embodied in the Maiden Goddess. The Full Moon representing fruition and sustenance, embodied in the Mother Goddess. And the Waning Moon representing fulfilment and endings embodied in the Crone Goddess.

THE MAIDEN

The Maiden is the Young Goddess of Spring and new beginnings. She is the Goddess of the Dawn, of youthfulness, the anticipation of life and fresh potential. The Maiden is the Goddess of art, creativity and self-expression of beauty, intelligence, and skill. The Maiden is manifest in action and self-confidence, exploration and discovery.  She is sometimes called the Virgin.  The term virgin in this instance does not mean physical virginity, it means that the young Goddess is independent - She is responsible for Her own actions, She knows who She is and does not answer to anyone but Herself.  The Maiden is aware of Her sexuality and can either hold it at bay or abandon Herself to it.   As the Huntress and Mistress of the Woodlands, She is both a friend and companion to all young creatures and a skilled hunter.  She is the armed keeper of the Universal Laws of Balance and can mete out punishment swiftly and dispassionately if needed.  

You may experience the Goddess in Her form as Maiden when you look upon a newborn child or experience a beautiful sunset. She is the continuation of all life, gifting us with the ability to find delight in the simple pleasures of the world – a butterfly in summer, sunlight on water, the stillness of a forest – all are within the realm of the Maiden Goddess. The Maiden’s magick is strongly connected to Nature and natural magick; She can inspire you with new ideas or lead you along a path that is new to you. She can give you a fresh new way to look at something. The Maiden may make Her presence known to you mentally without warning when you least expect it.  She shows us the way to spiritual centeredness, running ahead of us enticing us to follow Her down the path that we fear the most -  the way that leads us through the labyrinth of our minds into our own subconsciousness.  

The Waxing Moon is the Maiden's Moon.  Her colours are white and pink symbolic of innocence and newness.  The Maiden loves wild flowers especially white ones. The Maiden's animals are all wild animals, especially the Owl and the Deer.

Maiden Goddesses:

Artemis -  (Greek) eternal Virgin Goddess, Lady of the forests and hunting, and also of birth.

Blodewedd - (Celtic) This Spring Goddess was created by magic from nine spring flowers to be the wife of Llew Llaw. This got around the curse Arianhod had placed upon her son preventing him from taking a human wife.

Brigid - (Celtic) In her maiden aspect this Goddess is honoured at the festival of Imbolc which celebrates the first stirrings of Spring.

Chalchihuitlicue - Wife of Tlaloc, the God of Rains for the Aztec, was called the Precious Jeweled Lady, and had in her aspects associated with the Maiden like flowers, spring and the beauty of youth.

Diana -  (Roman) Goddess of the Crescent Moon and the Hunt.  She is the virgin Goddess of childbirth and women. Oak groves are sacred to Diana.

Flora - (Roman) The Goddess of flowering plants, especially those that bore fruit. Her festival, the Floralia, took place in April or early May and was marked with dancing, drinking, and flowers.

Freya - (Nordic) This Nordic fertility Goddess is linked with spring growth and flowers.

Hebe - (Greek) The Goddess of eternal youth and Spring.

Kore - (Greek) Kore is an alternative name for the Greek Goddess Persephone.

Ostara - (Celtic) Painted eggs and white rabbits are sacred to Ostara, the Celtic Goddess of Spring, fertility and rebirth. Her symbols have been incorporated into the Christian celebration of Easter.

Ninniane - Also called Nimue, in the Arthurian myth. She was Merlin's protege and was courted by him. Nimue locked Merlin in a cave to ward off his constant advances.

Parvati - (Hindu)  Maiden of affirmations and love, She became Shiva's, the Lord of Destruction, mate.

Persephone or  Proserpina - Persephone means maiden. She was the daughter of Demeter, who was kidnapped by Hades and reigns with him in the Underworld, for the dark half of the year.  Spring arrives when Persephone leaves Hades and joins her Mother.

Rhiannon - (Celtic) Maiden who is the "Divine Queen of the Faeries".  She is a Goddess of movement and change, who remains steadfast and comforting in times of crisis and loss.

THE MOTHER

The Mother aspect of the Triple Goddess is perhaps the easiest for humans to understand and identify with.  The image of the physical mother caring for, nurturing, protecting and loving her children is easily translated to the Mother Goddess. She is associated with confident adulthood and parenthood, She is summertime and the ripening of crops, She is procreation of all things earthly and universal, She is the highest point of all cycles and the sustainer of the Universe. She is the fullness of life, She turns the Wheel of all the seasons, and is the repository of all knowledge. She is the Earth Mother and the Sky Mother who walks beside us into the Labyrinth of Mysteries. The Universe is Her child and She loves and cares for it, providing it with inexhaustible resources from within Herself, even as a mother nurses Her infant from the milk of her breasts.

Her colour is red, the colour of blood and the life-force that courses through us all.  Her season is summer and Her Moon is Full. Her symbol is the Cauldron, the churning pot of regeneration. The Mother Goddess rules the Sabbats of Beltane, Litha and Lammas.  She shares Winter Solstice with the Maiden and the Crone.

The Mother Goddess teaches us to accept responsibility and to understand the consequences of our own actions. She will guide us towards self-discipline and patience, so that we may grow spiritually into balanced adulthood. She teaches us to reach out to others with loving energy, and to spiral into our Divine centre to both give and receive love. All acts of love are Her rituals. She does not want us to live lives filled with deprivation or chained to addictions, excesses or other forms of self- harm. The Mother Goddess actively works magick to bring us into harmony, happiness and freedom. Just like a human Mother, she wants the very best for us and will help us.  All we need to do is reach out to Her. The Mother Goddess nurtures all creation and is filled with love for all, yet, like a real mother, She will not hesitate to mete out discipline when necessary. Work against Her laws of Universal balance, portray yourself as one who has all the answers or is spiritually enlightened without having done the background work of self-discipline, self- understanding, and responsibility, and She will bring you back to reality!

Mother Goddess magick is most powerful at the Full Moon. Call upon Her for spells involving fruition, protection, healing, protection, guidance, marriage or life partners, gardening, animals, choices, peace, psychic direction and spiritual awakening.

RM 2015

Mother Goddesses

Aka (Turkish) Ancient Mother Goddess.

Aphrodite (Greek) Represented fertility.

Arianrhod (Welsh) Associated with fertility

Artemis (Greek) Despite being a virgin goddess she also presides over childbirth due to the ease of her own birth.

Bast (Egyptian) Bast the cat-headed Goddess was associated with both fertility and childbirth.

Ceres (Roman) Goddess of crops and agriculture.

Corn Mother (Native American) Responsible for the fertility of the land and people.

Cybele (Roman) Cybele was the goddess of fertility based on Anatolian Goddess Kybele.

Danu The mythic Mother Goddess of the Tuatha Dé Danann, the Celtic tribes that first invaded Ireland.

Demeter (Greek) The Goddess of grain and bringer of fertility to the earth.

Frigg (Nordic) Frigg was the Odin wife she protected a man's marriage and made him fertile. Her name was invoked to bring children into a conjugal union.

Gaia (Greek) Ancient Greek mother goddess who gave birth to the land and the Titans.

Hathor (Egyptian)  Mistress of the West, who welcomed the dead into the next life. Sky-goddess of love,music, dance, foreign lands and fertility who helped women in childbirth, as well as the patron goddess of miners. Hathor is often depicted wearing a headdress made of a pair of cow horns with a sun disk.

Hera (Greek) Goddess of women and marriage.  Sacred to her are the peacock and the cow. Isis (Egyptian) Goddess who was worshipped as the ideal mother and wife and as the patron of nature and magic. She was the friend of slaves, sinners, artisans, and the downtrodden, and she listened to the prayers of the wealthy, maidens, aristocrats, and rulers. Isis is often depicted as the mother of Horus,  Isis is also known as the protector of the dead and Goddess of children

Juno  (Roman) Often called upon by infertile women.

Macha (Irish) Fertility goddess who primarily concerned with male virility.

Nile Goddess - One of the prehistoric fertility Goddesses worshipped in the Nile Delta. She had the head of a bird.

Rhea (Greek) Replaced her mother Gaia as the earth and fertility goddess. She gave birth to the first Olympians

Venus (Roman) Roman equivalent to Aphrodite. She represented one of the main fertility Goddesses.

THE CRONE

The Crone represents the Goddess in Her aspect as Elder. The Crone is the Wise Woman, the Witch, the Matriarch. The Crone is the Goddess of Death, and magic, and the Spirit realm. She is the Goddess of Wisdom, visions, and guidance. Hers is the height of spiritual power, for She is the Great Sorceress Who creates Her will through magic. Goddess of Transformation, the Crone is the Destroyer Who dissolves outmoded forms, allowing new growth to occur.

The Crone Goddess aspect of the Triple Goddess may be the least understood and feared of the three aspects.   The Crone deals with the end of cycles and death; She has been called the Terrible Mother, the Dark Mother, the Hag and the Wise One. She is the gateway to death and re-birth, Her wise council teaches us spiritual completion, and the deepest of all mysteries - that without death there is no rebirth. Her cauldron awaits each of us, “All things living are mine own, from me they come, to me they go.” The Crone Goddess is winter, night, outer space, the abyss, menopause, and the advancement of age.  She is the natural end of all cycles.

Her colour is black, the absorber of all light, and the colour of darkness where all life rests before rebirth. Her season is winter and Her Moon is the Waning Moon. Her symbols are Lantern of truth and wisdom which She uses to guide us, and the Key which is symbolic of unlocking the deep mysteries. The Crone Goddess rules the Sabbat of Samhain.  She shares Winter Solstice with the Maiden and the Crone.

The Crone teaches us prophecy and will guide us to remember the past and see into the future. She is the Keeper of the Akashic Records, which are the details of our past lives.  Her guidance through trance work and the spirit world can lead us to past life memories so that we may focus our energies into learning the lessons of this life before passing into the next one. The Crone dispenses justice with love and sorrow, keeping the balance and upholding the laws. To have a relationship with the Crone you must seek Her out. She will offer you a comforting hand when, as with all living things, we must face the death of a loved one or the ending of our own life. She will bring to you the deep understanding that death is the necessary phase that must happen before rebirth.

Crone Goddess magick is most powerful at the Dark Moon. Call upon Her for spells involving harvesting, resting, past life meditations and pathworking, endings, ageing, divorce, rest, retribution, death, protection from physical or psychic attacks, trance work to communicate with the Spirit world.

Crone Goddesses

Annis (Celtic): A frightening old woman, keeper of wisdom and old ways. Badb: (Irish) A shape-shifting warrior Goddess who symbolizes the cycles of life and death, wisdom and inspiration. Baba Yaga (Russian): In Slavic mythology, she is the wild old woman; the witch; and mistress of magic. Hecate (Greek): Goddess of the underworld and magic Ceridwen (Celtic): The Keeper of the Cauldron. Cailleach  (Celtic): The hag and destroyer Goddess who ruled over disease, death, wisdom, seasonal rites and weather magic. Elli (Nordic): Goddess of old age, she defeated Thor. Grandmother Spiderwoman (Native American): An old wise woman who gave man the sun and fire.   Kali (Indian): Goddess of destruction and rebirth. Kalma (Finnish): Underworld Goddess of death and decay. Lara (Roman): Mother of the dead Libitina (Roman): Goddess of funerals and pyres. Lilith (Hebrew): Adams first wife and guardian of women's mysteries. Macha (Irish): The wild woman who battles against injustice to woman and children. Morrigan (Celtic): Crow Goddess who understands the nature of death. Mother Holle (German): The Wise Queen of Winter Nicneven (Celtic): Goddess of Magic and winter. Nephthys (Egyptian): A funerary Goddess associated with death, magic and reincarnation. Sedna (Inuit): Mistress of life and death XochiQuetzal (Mexican): Goddess of the cycles of life celebrated on the Day Of the Dead.

Edited 2016 Rowan Morgana

[tanklady]

MIRACULUM- PROLOGUE

                                                Pocahontas

The blue ones were the most exquisite and saddest dawns. It is as if God soaked the clouds in watercolor and carefully stretched them across the sky, drying the tears of the birds. Maple walked gracefully between the wet train tracks, his whiskers were splashed with tender dew drops, and his legs had finally kissed the mud of the forest. He was happy to get home from the cold; he jumped through the window, planning to land gracefully in the night-drift, but his movement was not certain and he then stumbled upon various objects on the table.

Helen felt her heart reconnect to her body and woke up drowning out a shuddering scream. confused and surprised by the din. She was soon reassured to discover the cause of her shock. He greeted her with a muffled meow and she responded with an intrigued chuckle, panting with fright.

-You are the noisiest mute cat on the planet- she sighed as she stretched her body.

As she was embraced by the breeze of the early hours she felt a pleasant shudder. The way every pore of her skin was altered, and her spine carried waves of heat as she watched with her eyes the dawn of her most precious colour, gave her a feeling that this would be a lucky day. He turned his gaze slightly to the right to extend his panorama. But she soon froze, sweat drops poured down her brow, and her breathing took a back seat. Her jaw tensed and she said goodbye to the crescent formed by her teeth a few seconds before. Her heartbeat stopped at that pair of dark, almond-shaped eyes, inexpressive, almost empty.

-No way...- she whispered trying to hide her happiness at the sight of a deer in her backyard sharing with her the same sense of bewilderment and shrinkage.

But the watercolour of the sky snapped its fingers in front of Helen and spilled a quick reaction on the crown of her head, melting the ice that covered her bones.

Soon she jumped up and ran barefoot across the carpet of her small room to reach her hunting tool. She was forced to capture it. She smiled at the shelf and just after she had unloaded her weight on her tiptoes, she reached for it with nervous fingers and took it with devotion. It was heavy. At fifteen she managed to raise enough money to buy it. She had managed to sell drawings of comic book characters and Saturday morning cartoons to her schoolmates. One dollar without color, two dollars with crayon technique, four dollars with watercolor.

A real businesswoman, she thought proudly.  

She had to hurry. Deer are impatient creatures. She knelt and unloaded her elbows into the window frame while her right index finger touched the trigger and her left hand held the device securely. She closed her left eye automatically, giving the right one the honor of focusing on the target through tactics. Helen compressed her lips into a single line, swallowed dry and fired.

She got a wonderful picture.

Soon after, the deer went on its way, disappearing into the fog. Satisfied by her feat, the young lady improvised a little dance while taking one last look at her work of art.

- Mr. Maple, how handsome you look today - she began to fantasize about looking at her cat in a flirtatious way as you returned your camera to the shelf - May I have this piece of celebration for the feat I just performed?

Maple meowed without a sound, possibly refusing. But before he could escape he was wrapped in the arms of his mistress and played the most curious waltz in a fairy tale. The morning was already very clear by then and the birds' greetings had lost their shyness.

A noise from the kitchen interrupted the dance of the princess and her cat.

It was Dad.

She stopped, withering away on her cruel return to real life. He had returned after disappearing all night, once again. And she had to clean up the mess, once more.

-Stay here-  she whispered to the little cat, who put up no resistance as he lay in bed. It was as if he could feel the tension in the air.

Helen made her way to the kitchen, praying in fear. She walked down the hall and turned on the light. As in a play, the spotlight illuminated the figure of the antagonist. There it was; sitting on the tile, staring out at the porch. A ragged cap cradled his eyes in a semi-darkness. Next to him, the corpse of a Captain Morgan bottle rolled aimlessly. He approached carefully and knelt down in front of his father. Her stomach turned. She reeked of rum. There were traces of vomit in the man's beard, and a fine thread of blood was flowing from his left arm. The elastic band still clung to his forearm.  

- Come... - Helen held out her hand.

- Dakota, damn it... leave me alone... - He hissed in rejection.

- I'm Helen...

The last negative that the girl's memory could store about her mother, were the scarred wrists of an inexperienced and disheveled Native American woman packing her bags and running away after a bitter kiss goodbye and a cat as a gift of compensation a couple of years ago.

- Um... - William's sharp golden eyes greeted those of his daughter - You look just like her -His voice felt like steam, it belonged to a sleeping dragon consumed by misery.

- Dad... -

- Don't call me that, you're making me feel senile- he warned her painfully with an exhausted laugh. It was hard for a man so young to still be the bearer of that title. He had just turned thirty and he was carrying on his shoulders the exhausting responsibility of making sure Helen ate all three times a day. His neck, dotted with irremovable scribbles, held a lost blond head in a state of hopeless addiction.

- I'm sorry, William... I... just let me walk you to your room- she pleaded in a voiceover.

- The couch is more comfortable, baby- he replied, not resisting the force that drew him to hold on to his heavy boots.

The girl helped him to lie down on the furniture and set about untying his shoes.

- You're a good girl- the man gave her a faint smile as he pulled a dying daisy out of his pocket. ---Can I ask you something, Pocahontas?- He tucked the sad flower behind her ear, shaking Helen's very short hair. The Gothic ink on his knuckles screamed the word Karma in capital letters.

- Whatever- she replied without hesitation. She tried to hide her nervousness.

- Please don't ever marry a man like me.

...

Hours later after finishing school, Helen took the short cut from the forest to capture mementos with her fascinating little time machine. Even the daisy's lifeless body rested close to her walnut "mane"... a color of genetic courtesy from her aboriginal blood. Her old sneakers battered the crisp leaves of autumn, the murmur of the squeaking was an excellent accompaniment to Helen's humming voice.

-Belinda was mine 'til the time- She rescued a pineapple from the ground and examined it with curiosity  - that.. that I found her- She blew on it vehemently and shook the dirt off its surface with her fingertips before sheltering it in her backpack.

-Holdin' Jim... and lovin' him - at that moment she could already visualize the trailer they lived in - Then Sue came along...

The interior of his home was illuminated by a flash of light.

Helen turned to stone and was abruptly silenced. A couple of yoctoseconds later, a deafening noise drove away the birds sleeping on the hood of William's abandoned car. Then, a silent iron breath.

That sound never belonged to a camera. It wasn't a lucky day.

[no1else-but-me]

Book Recs if you love Jaime and Brienne

This is a collection of all the book recs I could find from @briennesjaime​ tumblr books rec, the reddit, and my own. Please reblog your own if you have some. 

1. The Queen of Attolia which is book#2 of the The Queen’s Thief series

This is definitely more for the enemies to lovers trope. The thief even loses a hand like Jaime but under much different circumstances.  The Queen is like the colder version of Brienne.

Revenge When Eugenides, the Thief of Eddis, stole Hamiathes’s Gift, the Queen of Attolia lost more than a mythical relic. She lost face. Everyone knew that Eugenides had outwitted and escaped her. To restore her reputation and reassert her power, the Queen of Attolia will go to any length and accept any help that is offered…she will risk her country to execute the perfect revenge. …but Eugenides can steal anything. And he taunts the Queen of Attolia, moving through her strongholds seemingly at will. So Attolia waits, secure in the knowledge that the Thief will slip, that he will haunt her palace one too many times. …at what price? When Eugenides finds his small mountain country at war with Attolia, he must steal a man, he must steal a queen, he must steal peace. But his greatest triumph, and his greatest loss, comes in capturing something that the Queen of Attolia thought she had sacrificed long ago… 

2. The Lumatere Chronicles 

One of my favorite series of all time. It’s character driven and it’s has many surprises. Starts off with Finnikin has lost hope like Jaime but gains it slowly over time. Evanjalin her honor and her pursuit of her quest reminds me very much of  Brienne. 

Finnikin of the Rock and his guardian, Sir Topher, have not been home to their beloved Lumatere for ten years. Not since the dark days when the royal family was murdered and the kingdom put under a terrible curse. But then Finnikin is summoned to meet Evanjalin, a young woman with an incredible claim: the heir to the throne of Lumatere, Prince Balthazar, is alive. Evanjalin is determined to return home and she is the only one who can lead them to the heir. As they journey together, Finnikin is affected by her arrogance … and her hope. He begins to believe he will see his childhood friend, Prince Balthazar, again. And that their cursed people will be able to enter Lumatere and be reunited with those trapped inside. He even believes he will find his imprisoned father. But Evanjalin is not what she seems. And the truth will test not only Finnikin’s faith in her … but in himself.

3. Howl’s Moving Castle 

This one might be a stretch but hear me out. Howl is pretty much the embodiment of Jaime but probably more vain. While, Sophie really conveys Brienne self-esteem issues but still noble in her own right. Plus, their banter very reminiscent to Jaime and Brienne. 

Sophie has the great misfortune of being the eldest of three daughters, destined to fail miserably should she ever leave home to seek her fate. But when she unwittingly attracts the ire of the Witch of the Waste, Sophie finds herself under a horrid spell that transforms her into an old lady. Her only chance at breaking it lies in the ever-moving castle in the hills: the Wizard Howl’s castle. To untangle the enchantment, Sophie must handle the heartless Howl, strike a bargain with a fire demon, and meet the Witch of the Waste head-on. Along the way, she discovers that there’s far more to Howl—and herself—than first meets the eye.

@temporiibus recommends The Raven Cycle!!

“There are only two reasons a non-seer would see a spirit on St. Mark’s Eve,” Neeve said. “Either you’re his true love . . . or you killed him.” It is freezing in the churchyard, even before the dead arrive. Every year, Blue Sargent stands next to her clairvoyant mother as the soon-to-be dead walk past. Blue herself never sees them—not until this year, when a boy emerges from the dark and speaks directly to her. His name is Gansey, and Blue soon discovers that he is a rich student at Aglionby, the local private school. Blue has a policy of staying away from Aglionby boys. Known as Raven Boys, they can only mean trouble. But Blue is drawn to Gansey, in a way she can’t entirely explain. He has it all—family money, good looks, devoted friends—but he’s looking for much more than that. He is on a quest that has encompassed three other Raven Boys: Adam, the scholarship student who resents all the privilege around him; Ronan, the fierce soul who ranges from anger to despair; and Noah, the taciturn watcher of the four, who notices many things but says very little. For as long as she can remember, Blue has been warned that she will cause her true love to die. She never thought this would be a problem. But now, as her life becomes caught up in the strange and sinister world of the Raven Boys, she’s not so sure anymore. From Maggie Stiefvater, the bestselling and acclaimed author of the Shiver trilogy and The Scorpio Races, comes a spellbinding new series where the inevitability of death and the nature of love lead us to a place we’ve never been before. 

The Winners Trilogy

As a general’s daughter in a vast empire that revels in war and enslaves those it conquers, seventeen-year-old Kestrel has two choices: she can join the military or get married. But Kestrel has other intentions.  One day, she is startled to find a kindred spirit in a young slave up for auction. Arin’s eyes seem to defy everything and everyone. Following her instinct, Kestrel buys him—with unexpected consequences. It’s not long before she has to hide her growing love for Arin.  But he, too, has a secret, and Kestrel quickly learns that the price she paid for a fellow human is much higher than she ever could have imagined.  Set in a richly imagined new world, The Winner’s Curse by Marie Rutkoski is a story of deadly games where everything is at stake, and the gamble is whether you will keep your head or lose your heart.

Daughter of Smoke and Bone recommended by @realduality

Errand requiring immediate attention. Come. The note was on vellum, pierced by the talons of the almost-crow that delivered it. Karou read the message. 'He never says please', she sighed, but she gathered up her things. When Brimstone called, she always came. In general, Karou has managed to keep her two lives in balance. On the one hand, she's a seventeen-year-old art student in Prague; on the other, errand-girl to a monstrous creature who is the closest thing she has to family. Raised half in our world, half in 'Elsewhere', she has never understood Brimstone's dark work - buying teeth from hunters and murderers - nor how she came into his keeping. She is a secret even to herself, plagued by the sensation that she isn't whole. Now the doors to Elsewhere are closing, and Karou must choose between the safety of her human life and the dangers of a war-ravaged world that may hold the answers she has always sought.

The Mars Trilogy by Kim Stanley Robinson. Hard SF, and the romance is definitely not a major plot, but one of the characters involved in the trope is legit my favorite fictional character of all time and that journey from enemy to friend to lover is a big part of it.

In his most ambitious project to date, award-winning author Kim Stanley Robinson utilizes years of research & cutting-edge science in the 1st of a trilogy chronicling the colonization of Mars: For eons, sandstorms have swept the desolate landscape. For centuries, Mars has beckoned humans to conquer its hostile climate. Now, in 2026, a group of 100 colonists is about to fulfill that destiny. John Boone, Maya Toitavna, Frank Chalmers & Arkady Bogdanov lead a terraforming mission. For some, Mars will become a passion driving them to daring acts of courage & madness. For others it offers an opportunity to strip the planet of its riches. For the genetic alchemists, it presents a chance to create a biomedical miracle, a breakthrough that could change all we know about life & death. The colonists orbit giant satellite mirrors to reflect light to the surface. Black dust sprinkled on the polar caps will capture warmth. Massive tunnels, kilometers deep, will be drilled into the mantle to create stupendous vents of hot gases. Against this backdrop of epic upheaval, rivalries, loves & friendships will form & fall to pieces--for there are those who will fight to the death to prevent Mars from ever being changed. Brilliantly imagined, breathtaking in scope & ingenuity, Red Mars is an epic scientific saga, chronicling the next step in evolution, creating a world in its entirety. It shows a future, with both glory & tarnish, that awes with complexity & inspires with vision.

The Folk of the Air

Of course I want to be like them. They’re beautiful as blades forged in some divine fire. They will live forever. And Cardan is even more beautiful than the rest. I hate him more than all the others. I hate him so much that sometimes when I look at him, I can hardly breathe. Jude was seven when her parents were murdered and she and her two sisters were stolen away to live in the treacherous High Court of Faerie. Ten years later, Jude wants nothing more than to belong there, despite her mortality. But many of the fey despise humans. Especially Prince Cardan, the youngest and wickedest son of the High King. To win a place at the Court, she must defy him–and face the consequences. As Jude becomes more deeply embroiled in palace intrigues and deceptions, she discovers her own capacity for trickery and bloodshed. But as betrayal threatens to drown the Courts of Faerie in violence, Jude will need to risk her life in a dangerous alliance to save her sisters, and Faerie itself.

Feyre's survival rests upon her ability to hunt and kill – the forest where she lives is a cold, bleak place in the long winter months. So when she spots a deer in the forest being pursued by a wolf, she cannot resist fighting it for the flesh. But to do so, she must kill the predator and killing something so precious comes at a price ... Dragged to a magical kingdom for the murder of a faerie, Feyre discovers that her captor, his face obscured by a jewelled mask, is hiding far more than his piercing green eyes would suggest. Feyre's presence at the court is closely guarded, and as she begins to learn why, her feelings for him turn from hostility to passion and the faerie lands become an even more dangerous place. Feyre must fight to break an ancient curse, or she will lose him forever.

 @swainlake recommends the darkest powers trilogy by kelley armstrong is really good

My name is Chloe Saunders and my life will never be the same again. All I wanted was to make friends, meet boys, and keep on being ordinary. I don't even know what that means anymore. It all started on the day that I saw my first ghost - and the ghost saw me. Now there are ghosts everywhere and they won't leave me alone. To top it all off, I somehow got myself locked up in Lyle House, a "special home" for troubled teens. Yet the home isn't what it seems. Don't tell anyone, but I think there might be more to my housemates than meets the eye. The question is, whose side are they on? It's up to me to figure out the dangerous secrets behind Lyle House... before its skeletons come back to haunt me

@imladriss recommends: We hunt the flame by hafsah faizal

People lived because she killed. People died because he lived. Zafira is the Hunter, disguising herself as a man when she braves the cursed forest of the Arz to feed her people. Nasir is the Prince of Death, assassinating those foolish enough to defy his autocratic father, the king. If Zafira was exposed as a girl, all of her achievements would be rejected; if Nasir displayed his compassion, his father would punish him in the most brutal of ways.  Both are legends in the kingdom of Arawiya—but neither wants to be. War is brewing, and the Arz sweeps closer with each passing day, engulfing the land in shadow. When Zafira embarks on a quest to uncover a lost artifact that can restore magic to her suffering world and stop the Arz, Nasir is sent by the king on a similar mission: retrieve the artifact and kill the Hunter. But an ancient evil stirs as their journey unfolds—and the prize they seek may pose a threat greater than either can imagine. Set in a richly detailed world inspired by ancient Arabia, We Hunt the Flame is a gripping debut of discovery, conquering fear, and taking identity into your own hands.

@moirindeclermont recommends  anything from Jacqueline Carey (she is a goddess and my favourite writer) but also Deborah Harkness (A discovery of witches) which is amazing, I’m obsessed with it. Nemesis by Isaac Asimov touches some themes similar to Brienne’s. Arn the knight

The land of Terre d'Ange is a place of unsurpassing beauty and grace. It is said that angels found the land and saw it was good... and the ensuing race that rose from the seed of angels and men live by one simple rule: Love as thou wilt.  Phèdre nó Delaunay is a young woman who was born with a scarlet mote in her left eye. Sold into indentured servitude as a child, her bond is purchased by Anafiel Delaunay, a nobleman with very a special mission... and the first one to recognize who and what she is: one pricked by Kushiel's Dart, chosen to forever experience pain and pleasure as one. Phèdre is trained equally in the courtly arts and the talents of the bedchamber, but, above all, the ability to observe, remember, and analyze. Almost as talented a spy as she is courtesan, Phèdre stumbles upon a plot that threatens the very foundations of her homeland. Treachery sets her on her path; love and honor goad her further. And in the doing, it will take her to the edge of despair... and beyond. Hateful friend, loving enemy, beloved assassin; they can all wear the same glittering mask in this world, and Phèdre will get but one chance to save all that she holds dear.  Set in a world of cunning poets, deadly courtiers, heroic traitors, and a truly Machiavellian villainess, this is a novel of grandeur, luxuriance, sacrifice, betrayal, and deeply laid conspiracies. Not since Dune has there been an epic on the scale of Kushiel's Dart-a massive tale about the violent death of an old age, and the birth of a new.

Deep in the stacks of Oxford's Bodleian Library, young scholar Diana Bishop unwittingly calls up a bewitched alchemical manuscript in the course of her research. Descended from an old and distinguished line of witches, Diana wants nothing to do with sorcery; so after a furtive glance and a few notes, she banishes the book to the stacks. But her discovery sets a fantastical underworld stirring, and a horde of daemons, witches, and vampires soon descends upon the library. Diana has stumbled upon a coveted treasure lost for centuries-and she is the only creature who can break its spell.

In a hail of fire and flashing sword, as the burning city of Acre falls from the hands of the West in 1291, The Last Templar opens with a young Templar knight, his mentor, and a handful of others escaping to the sea carrying a mysterious chest entrusted to them by the Order's dying Grand Master. The ship vanishes without a trace. In present day Manhattan, four masked horsemen dressed as Templar Knights emerge from Central Park and ride up the Fifth Avenue steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art during the blacktie opening of a Treasures of the Vatican exhibit. Storming through the crowds, the horsemen brutally attack anyone standing between them and their prize. Attending the gala, archaeologist Tess Chaykin watches in silent terror as the leader of the horsemen hones in on one piece in particular, a strange geared device. He utters a few cryptic Latin words as he takes hold of it with reverence before leading the horsemen out and disappearing into the night. In the aftermath, an FBI investigation is led by anti-terrorist specialist Sean Reilly. Soon, he and Tess are drawn into the dark, hidden history of the crusading Knights, plunging them into a deadly game of cat and mouse with ruthless killers as they race across three continents to recover the lost secret of the Templars. 

Irissa and Kendric Series

Irissa was the last of the sorcerous Torlocs, untutored in magic and abandoned upon this decaying world by her people. Kendric was one of the Six of Swords, gifted with a legendary weapon to guard the Realms from harm. But now he was an outcast, and his death was sought with reason by the other Five. Sorceress and swordsman, they were thrown together; each filled with ancient prejudices against the other. But only by combining her uncertain powers with his remaining skills could they survive. Survive they must, however. Rule was a world formed upon magic - but now magic was failing and there would soon be no place for it. And destiny in strange guise had chosen them to make one last stand against the dark forces that were waiting at the Gate of Valna, seeking to destroy their world

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

Orphaned as a child, Jane has felt an outcast her whole young life. Her courage is tested once again when she arrives at Thornfield Hall, where she has been hired by the brooding, proud Edward Rochester to care for his ward Adèle. Jane finds herself drawn to his troubled yet kind spirit. She falls in love. Hard.

But there is a terrifying secret inside the gloomy, forbidding Thornfield Hall. Is Rochester hiding from Jane? Will Jane be left heartbroken and exiled once again?

Since its immediate success in 1813, Pride and Prejudice has remained one of the most popular novels in the English language. Jane Austen called this brilliant work "her own darling child" and its vivacious heroine, Elizabeth Bennet, "as delightful a creature as ever appeared in print." The romantic clash between the opinionated Elizabeth and her proud beau, Mr. Darcy, is a splendid performance of civilized sparring. And Jane Austen's radiant wit sparkles as her characters dance a delicate quadrille of flirtation and intrigue, making this book the most superb comedy of manners of Regency England

In the medieval and fantastic realm of Tortall, Keladry of Mindelan (known as Kel) is the first girl to take advantage of the decree that permits women to train for knighthood. But not everyone in Tortall believes a woman is up to the task, and Kel faces harsh discrimination. With unparalleled determination and a knack for leadership, she captures the hearts of her peers and proves that she is not a girl to underestimate! 

[cowboy-canoodler]

A High Note of Love: Part 5

( Idk why I’m still writing this, not many people read it but w/e. I really like this chapter, but I’m also a whore for Sean so whatever lmao. I also do not do well with the other women in the camp, i have no idea how to write most of the men either but hey ho whatever!)

Master list :http://cowboy-canoodler.tumblr.com/post/183094165570/a-high-note-of-love-master-list

Sean, and Arthur were about to ride you to their camp to introduce you to the rest of the gang. Your heart was beating rapidly inside your chest, if they didn’t like you what would you do? Arthur was loyal, you knew that, and you didn’t want to force this choice on him, mainly because you knew that he wouldn’t choose you.

Your clothes now resembled someone of the higher society, but not high enough that the gang would be repulsed by you. You chose a deep emerald green gown, with gold lace accents along the collar, cuffs, and along your bustle, a small bonnet with Lillies adorned your head. You held a small suitcase full of day clothes and some make up to touch up later on, you had a feeling that you wouldn’t be riding back home tonight. A last look in the mirror and you were satisfied with you final outfit, you turned to leave your room and show yourself to Arthur. He was stood with his back at the bar, smoking a cigarette, you could see specks of mud on the back of his neck, some blood too.

“Those are bad for your health you know” You commented making your way towards him.

“Says who?” Arthur turned around with a smirk on his face, but his mouth fell agape when he saw you, “Hot damn”

“What?” You panicked, “Do I look okay?” You started looking down and around your outfit in a panic.

“No no! You- You look beautiful (Y/N)” Arthur looked lost for words, his eyes bore a hole into your outfit, almost as if he hadn’t seen one quite like it.

“Oh” Your head snapped up to meet his gaze with a blush dusting your cheeks, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear you replied, “Th-Thank you Arthur”. A smile crept its way into your face and you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, “We shouldn’t keep Sean waiting”

“I guess you’re right, don’t know how happy I am that he’s comin’ on our ride, but it is what it is I s’pose” Arthur placed a hand on your shoulder and started leading you out of the door of the bar and there was a delicate touch to his hand as if he were handling something precious.

Sean was restless on his horse looking around at the people scattered on the streets, “finally” he looked over at you and Arthur, who had removed his hand from you as soon as he saw Sean, “thought you were gonna bail on me!”

“Did enough bailin’ for you when we saved your damn ass from hangin’” Arthur chuckled helping you onto his horse, you were settled and Arthur hoisted him self in front of you and sat down, somehow slotting in front of you perfectly and you wrapped your arms around his stomach for balance. That’s what you told yourself anyway, but you enjoyed the feeling of him being close to you again. The only time you two had been as close as this was weeks ago when you shared a bed, neither you nor Arthur had tried to initiate sex again after that. IT somehow didn’t feel right, like you would ruin what was blooming.

“God Arthur! you speak of that all the time but it was years ago!” Sean lightly kicked his horse to start your journey.

“It was last week!” Arthur shouted back, their personalities were so different from each other and yet they worked so well joking around and making you giggle.

“You sure? Feels like years ago when I’m with such delightful comp’ny, say Miss (Y/N)?” Sean looked back at you with a grin on his face.

“Yes Master MacGuire?” You lifted a brow to the ginger lad, a curious tone to your voice, “How can one such as I help you?”

“What part of Great Britain are you from?” Sean suddenly got very serious, not forgetting this man was Irish and probably hated the English for all they had done against the Irish.

“Lesnewth, Cornwall. Though I no longer consider myself English, if my mother saw me today she’d refer to me as a-” You shrivelled your face up, as if eating a lemon, and spoke in an over exaggerated posh accent referring to your mother, “A dirty Yankee, you’re a disgrace upon the name of (Y/LN) and should be whipped!” All three of you left out a laugh at your impression of your mother, “Not a delightful woman to speak to my mother, unless you’re Queen Victoria of course!”

“She sure sounds like it!” Arthur was still chuckling at your impression earlier, you could feel his stomach muscles working with each breath.

“Lisnewth? I ain’t never heard of that, but Cornwall? Now you’re talkin! I’m gonna guess you’re family’s in Tin mining then?” A couple of men on horses passed giving you and Arthur a dirty look.

“My my Master MacGuire! How ever did you guess?” You were genuinely surprised that Sean knew of the Tin mining in Cornwall, then again Tin mining is the only thing to come out of Cornwall. “You guessed right though, my family used to own a small Tin mine, then the prices shot up and we became rich. Funny how it happens to the un-expecting, and the un-deserving” The last part you mumbled under your breath but you’re sure Arthur heard, you could feel his shoulders tighten in response.

“You don’t need to tell him (Y/N), he’ll only get attached to ya, and then you gotta talk to him everyday!” Was Arthur joking? This was a rare sight indeed, you could feel that he was relaxed around you, or maybe it was Sean, it would make sense for Arthur to be relaxed around someone he considers his family.

“What if I want to speak to Master MacGuire everyday?” You teased Arthur, pinching at his stomach a little.

“Exactly! What if she wants to speak to me? I’m handsome, charming-” Sean puffed out his chest as he started listing his good qualities.

“Loud, cocky, prone to shoot before thinkin’“ Arthur cut in and listed Seans seemingly bad qualities.

“Oh, trying to turn her against me are you Arthur? Well how about we let the lady decide?” Sean looked directly at you and you stared to burn up.

“Oh! Well- I- Uh- I don’t really know you yet Master MacGuire, but I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better” You smiled back. Arthur snapped his reins and demanded his horse move faster, trying to get you away from Sean no doubt.

“Arthur!” Sean shouted but you were well ahead of him.

“Arthur? What are you doing?” You asked, tugging your arms at his torso.

“I don’t like you talking to him”

“Is this jealousy Arthur? Get a grip!” You snapped at him, why did you snap at him? Part of you was happy he was jealous, but you also felt conflicted. You should be able to freely speak to men or women without repercussions, and you especially felt hatred towards the fact you were being told what you can and can’t do. “I can get to know whomever I want” You lightly hit your head on Arthurs back to give him a nudge.

Arthur pulled on the reins and slowed down to a trot, “I know, I know. I don’t wanna control you (Y/N), I just. Nevermind, we’re close to the camp now” Arthur looked back and saw Sean catching up to you both.

“The hell Arthur?” Seans hair was dishevelled and he was out of breath.

“I wanted her for myself for a bit, got a problem?” Arthur teased Sean again, but his comment did bring a little happiness to you. “Besides, I had no idea what y’all were talkin’ bout. Tin, Cornwall, Liscewth or whatever” Sean and Arthur carried on their bickering but you were looking out over the forest.

You could see the glow of fires in the distance, the sun had started to set and a warm glow enveloped the forest around you. Highlights of deer in the trees, the flowers on the ground, and leaves in the trees. The evening was beautiful and you were so glad you could be here to enjoy it.

“Who’s that?” A Voice shouted from the trees, it came from a big man with a black beard and rotund belly. He carried a rifle in his hands, cocked and ready to fire.

“Sean and Arthur ya dumbass!” Arthur shouted back.

“Who’s that?” The man nodded towards you, a furrowed brow and pressed lips on his face.

“She’s a friend, put your damn gun away. Don’t point it at a a lady”

“Pleasure to meet you sir” You offered a warm smile, this was the second member of the gang you were meeting and you wanted to make a good first impression.

“You sure we can trust her?”  An air of suspicion was suddenly around you, it was like nothing you’d ever felt before.

“Bill shut yer damn mouth, if I thought we couldn’t trust her do you think I would have brought her here?” Arthur rolled his eyes and dismissively waved his hand at Bill.

“Well I suppose so, but I got my eye on you Missy!” You were slightly taken aback by Bills forwardness, you stared Bill in the eyes as you and Arthur made your way past on the horse.

“I look forward to getting to know you in the future Master Bill” Did you? Part of you knew that the suspicion would never fade away, maybe he was like this with everyone, nevertheless you needed Arthurs family to like you.

You, Sean, and Arthur came up to the hitching posts and Arthur dismounted, with very heavy feet. You swung your right leg over the horse and slid your way off as gracefully as you could a slight lighter than Arthur. Sean gave you a wink and walked his way into the camp, waving at fellow gang members along the way. There were tents, carts, and tables set up with people jostling about, drinking and having fun.

“Is there a party or something?” You asked, walking your way alongside Arthur.

“Naw. No party. Jus’ glad to be alive I s’pose” Arthur looked handsome in the evening light, the orange shades of the sun lit up the highlights of his face, His broad nose, stubbled jaw, eyebrows, eyes, hat, everything about him. He was just a very handsome man in general. He soon looked down and caught you staring, “Somethin’ wrong?” His brow raised and his eyes widened.

“No not at all” Your breath hitched as you looked into his eyes, “Just admiring the view. The evening sun lights up your features perfectly Arthur” A warm breeze passed and the smell of smoke from the fires wafted by, you could hear singing and laughing from the camp members.

“Not much of a view if ya tell me” Arthur looked away, you had thought your compliment had made him smile but now only furrowed bros and a scowl remained, you brought a hand to Arthurs cheek and turned him to face you again.

“It’s one hell of a view Arthur” You smiled again, and so did Arthur this time.

“Hey (Y/N)!” Sean shouted as he ran up to you and Arthur, “I told some o’ the members about ya! Don’t be embarrassed to meet them!”

“Thank you Master-”

“Please call me Sean, I beg ya”

“Thank you, Sean” Sean winked once more and ran back off into the camp towards a woman with blonde shoulder length hair, in tight curls, a whiskey bottle grasped firmly in her hand. “Well, who should I meet now?” you didn’t want Arthur to know you were nervous but you were certain he had already noticed.

“Come one, I’ll let ya see Hosea” Arthur placed a guiding hand on you once more and brought you to a table with an older man sat at it writing in a book. He was well dressed, and well kept, silver hair slicked to one side, years tugging at his skin

“Are we interrupting?” Arthur asked sitting him self down.

“Not at all Arthur I-” Hosea looked up and caught your eyes, “Oh pardon me I didn’t realise I was in the company of a lady” He stood up and extended an hand, “Hosea Matthews”

You took his hand and gave it a light shake “(Y/FN) (Y/LN), nice to meet you” Hosea gestured for you to sit down and you complied.

“You’re English?”Hosea asked, his eyes piercing into yours, he was workign you out without uttering a word about it, you nodded in response, “Ah, been in America long?”

“A couple of years now, but it feels like I’ve always lived here” Arthur stood up and walked over to a couple of crates by a wagon, he pulled out three bottles of beer and made his way back over.

“America can be like that, Arthur how did you and Miss (Y/LN) meet?” Hosea looked over at Arthur and grabbed one of the beers.

“Oh, I was scopin’ a target in Saint Denis, he went into a saloon, I went in, and (Y/N) was singing that night. Jus’ so happened to listen in” Arthur popped off the bottle caps and handed a beer to you, which you gratuitously accepted.

“My dear girl, you’re a singer?” Hosea raised his eyebrows and you started to feel embarrassed.

“Yes, It’s nothing big I just sing a couple of nights a week. I’m not all that good that I deserve praise or attention!” You were waving your hands about trying to sound humble.

“Not all that good?” Arthur scoffed and took a swig of his drink, “Hosea she has a voice like an angel” His comment made you blush deeply, a light chuckle escaping from your lips.

“Arthur doesn’t give compliments like this lightly, so I’m compelled to believe him” Hosea took another swig of his drink, he was very slender and kept his appearance up.

“I must thank you then Arthur” you gave Arthur a slight judge with your elbow, an embarrassment taking over you, it was a nice thought that Arthur kept compliments like this for people who really deserve it, not like then men who throw them around to manipulate you into getting into their bed for the night.

“S’no problem, I’m only tellin’ the truth” Arthur looked over at Hosea who had returned to writing in his book, you couldn’t quite tell what he was writing but it looked like a map of sorts with arrows and directions. Arthur caught you staring and promptly stood up, “we’ll leave ya be Hosea, you got work to do I see” Arthur offered a hand out to you which you accepted, and you stood up grabbing s hold of your drink in your other hand.

“No problem Arthur” Hosea look up to you, “pleasure to meet you Miss (Y/LN).”

“And you too Mister Matthews” you gave a small curtsy and followed Arthur who had begun walking towards the campfire, towards a man with black hair, a poncho, hat, and a guitar, and another with shoulder length brown hair, a beer, and a gaunt expression.

“This here is Javier Escuella and Kieran O’Driscoll” Arthur extended a hand out towards the two men who had been sitting in silence prior to your introduction. They both looked up towards Arthur and yourself.

“I ain’t an O’Driscoll sir!” Kieran promptly responded before seeing you, “Oh! I’m sorry I didn’t see you there” he stood up and offered a hand of greeting towards you, “I’m Kieran, n-not with the O’Driscoll part Ma’am, my last name’s Duffy” His expression was soft, not battle hardened like the rest of the gang you had seen, a small lanky sort of boy who’s hair fell in front of his face.

“Calm down, I was jus’ jokin’ around” Arthur diffused, setting himself down next to Javier who gave him a quizzical look. You bowed your head towards Kieran and took his hand giving him a reassuring smile. Javier look up at you and gave you a small nod, “this here’s Javier”

“A pleasure to meet you both, I’m (Y/N) (Y/LN)” you kept your voice soft as you introduced yourself, Arthur was sat in the floor next to Javier and you sat on a log next to Keiran, Javier went back to looking at his guitar and the air went dead, not at all like how it was with Hosea. “Do you play Mister Escuella?” You asked after taking a sip of your beer.

“Si, one of the things that keeps camp home. It’s nice to meet you Senorita” The guitar was beautiful, and very well kept, no signs of wear on the strings, carved intricacies were all over it, and Javier hands were always soft when handling the wood. 

“(Y/N) here is a singer in Saint Denis-” Arthur looked over at you, his eyes sparkling in the firelight, a warm glow to his face, God he was even more handsome right now. Your heart was about to beat out of your chest as you met his gaze, you saw his mouth moving but didn’t hear a word as you stared at him. (Y/N)?  (Y/N)? You there?” Arthur waved a hand infront of your face and you blinked in response.

“Huh?” you shook your head and saw Javier, Kieran, and Arthur were staring at you, “Yeah?”

“You zoned out there, thought we lost ya” Arthur and Javier chuckled, Kieran sat quiet.

“Oh goodness I’m sorry, I daydreamed for a second there. My apologies” You shook your hands in front of you, slightly flustered by your air headed session.

“As Arthur was saying, you’re a singer in Saint Denis?” Javier placed his guitar down gently and reached for a bottle that sat next to him.

“Yes! It’s how Arthur and I met” You regaled the story once again to Javier and Kieran, the Mexican was cool an collected, he held himself with pride and was always the first to laugh at Arthur telling a joke, Kieran on the other hand was quieter so as not to disturb anyone with his presence, he almost breathed in a silent way to make sure no one could know he was nearby.

“Would you want to sing something for the camp tonight? They get restless when drunk, restless and loud. I’d love to have a trained singer for once and not whatever these guys call singing” Javier chuckled as Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Why, Mister Escuella. I would love to” Your face brightened immensely, a smile wide across your cheeks, this would be the best situation to introduce yourself to the gang members and show them what you could do. What if they think you’re showing off? They’ll think you’re above them. They’ll hate you.

Arthur stared at you in awe, his mouth turning to a small smile, pride filling his eyes when he looked at this amazing woman so giddy, so ready to show yourself to his family. “You’ll do great (Y/N)” He gave you a reassuring look as you stood up to follow Javier.

“It was lovely meeting you Kieran” You gave Kieran a smile, looking him directly in the eyes to show him you meant it.

“Oh, th-thank you Miss (Y/LN)” He looked surprised, maybe he thought you’d forget about him like everyone seemingly does.

As you followed Javier and Arthur to the main fire where Sean ,Hosea, and other gang members had convened you swallowed hard. 

Please god let them like me.

[rainythefox]

Oh, Brother (RDR2 Fanfic CH.5/Final Chapter)

Synopsis: 1885, Illinois. A young Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur wander into a country town following a lead to swindle a wealthy homestead and break their control over the town. But while scoping it out, Arthur encounters a young John Marston, setting fate in motion that will eventually become a rocky, yet loyal brotherhood. A short multi-chapter story revolving around how Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur met John. (Rated T for violence and swearing) (Mostly Adventure/Friendship/Humor)

Ko-Fi page

AO3 Link

Chapter 5

Six months later...

"Relax."

The breath that came from John's lips was shaky. Arthur reached out and cupped a hand over the drawn revolver that quivered in John's fingers. He steadied the boy, looking down the range where the bottles sat atop the fence.

"Keep steady now. The key is to breathe in and then release it slowly and pull the trigger. Don't anticipate the kick, or you'll always miss your mark. You gotta get used to it."

Arthur stepped back, allowing John some space. John stared down the bottles with a determined gleam in his eye. He fidgeted on his feet, arm extended out with the revolver.

Arthur smacked the boy upside the head.

"Ow!"

"Steady, I said, boy!"

John focused again, letting a breath slip from his lips. He pulled the trigger. The revolver went off, a loud bang to their ears, the kickback tossing John's arms up.

All bottles remained unscathed. John growled in frustration.

"I killed a man with one of these things but now I ain't got the nerve to shoot a bottle."

Arthur chuckled. "That was luck back then. And luck's nice to have, but it ain't always gonna save you. You got plenty of nerve, kid. It's confidence you lack. Here."

Arthur picked his hat off his head and plopped it on John's head, grinding it down on his scalp and getting a small giggle out of the thin boy.

Arthur wasn't sure why, but John liked his hat, even still after running with them for six months. He never gave a reason to Arthur on why, but he guessed it didn't really matter. He'd let John wear it time to time, and it gave the boy a boost of confidence needed in his teachings.

"Now, let's try again. Spread your feet a bit further apart. There ya go. Aim with a steady hand."

Arthur fixed how John held his arms out with the gun aimed.

"Good. Now remember the breathin'. Don't anticipate the kick. Shoot that green bottle now. Go on. You can do it."

John sucked in a deep breath and released it. He pulled the trigger and the shot rang out across the valley. The green bottle shattered on the fence.

John's mouth opened wide with a grin as he jumped in victory. "Yes! I did it, did you see it, Arthur?!"

Arthur walked over and patted him on the back. "Damn kid, good shot! You keep that up, you'll be shootin' better than me."

John laughed. "I wish. There's no way I can shoot like you or Dutch. And I don't even wanna think 'bout tryin' to beat Hosea. You're the fastest I've seen with a six shooter and I saw Dutch shoot a bird out of the sky through the trees with his revolver. And Hosea hit a deer in the eye on a runnin' horse with his rifle."

Arthur took back his hat, ruffling the boy's hair. "Hosea will probably outshoot us well after he's old 'n gray."

"Probably."

Arthur nodded his head towards the grazing horses. "C'mon. I reckon we better get back to camp and skin that pronghorn or we'll be goin' hungry tonight. Besides, you got more lessons comin' up."

John groaned. "What's so important about readin' and writin' anyway?"

They mounted their horses and started back towards camp. John guided his horse to canter alongside Arthur's horse, where their freshly killed pronghorn was stowed.

The Wyoming valley extended in rolling, grassy hills around them within clusters of trees and surrounding mountains. The sun was high with not a cloud in sight, but the wind nipped hard on their skin, warning of coming winter.

Arthur took a drink out of his water canteen and passed it to John. "If Dutch and Hosea say it's important, then it's important. Ya need to be literate in the jobs we do."

"Sometimes I think that's harder than learnin' how to ride a horse or shoot a gun."

Arthur nodded with a soft laugh. "Yeah, it's hard sometimes. They taught me, same as you. I reckon if they can teach a dummy like me, then they can teach you too. I mean look at you. It didn't take long for you to learn how to ride a horse."

"I guess so…"

They rode together side by side while chatting. John could be a talkative boy and today he was full of questions. Arthur kept an eye out around them as they crossed a bridge over a low-running creek into a field of sagebrush and boulders.

His eye caught something down near the water and he quickly pulled on the reins to stop his horse. He recognized the familiar flower that bloomed there, the soft pink petals and dark anthers stood out amongst the reeds and mud.

Arthur got off his horse. He couldn't believe it. He didn't think he was far enough west yet to find one. The flower was his mother's favorite, and he remembered her telling him it brought good luck. He was so young when she passed, it was one of the few precious memories he had of her.

"What is it?" John asked.

"I'll be right back," Arthur replied, sliding down the slope into the creek bed.

Arthur wasn't surprised that John's curiosity and stubbornness got the best of him. He followed Arthur down into the creek bed on his horse. The steed nickered nervously around the reeds and muck.

"John, better not get down in this on that horse," Arthur warned.

"I'm fine."

Arthur bent down once reaching the flower. He admired it for a moment, caressing its petals. He reached down and grabbed the stem, carefully pulling it from the soil.

Just as Arthur stood his full height, he heard it. The unmistakable, nerve-shattering, dreadful noise of a vibrating rattle. He froze, looking into the reeds, but John's horse spooked. The gelding reared with a loud neigh, tossing John of its back and bolted.

John fell with a yelp into the reeds and muck. Arthur scanned the green stalks for movement, his hand hovering over his holstered revolver.

"John, don't move!"

He saw the serpent, the bend in the reeds as it slithered by in haste. Arthur drew his gun and shot it. John got up, his body and clothes now covered with muck. He flicked his hands to cast off excess mud, curling his lip in disgust.

"Ew!"

"I told you not to bring that horse down here, boy."

John spat out mud from his mouth. "Yeah, yeah."

Arthur picked up the rattlesnake, looking the limp body over. He grinned at John and his now even dirtier appearance. "Miss Grimshaw ain't gonna allow that, ya know."

"I'll wipe it off as soon as we get back, don't worry."

"Somehow, I don't think that's gonna be enough."

Arthur cut the rattle off the dead viper and extended it out towards John. John smiled and took it, testing the rattle out with a shake.

"Neat!"

"C'mon, best we get back and clean you up."

Arthur looked over the flower one last time before slipping it inside his satchel. Luckily, John's horse didn't flee far, taking comfort next to Arthur's horse. They climbed up and headed out once more.

"So, what's with the flower?"

Arthur frowned, wondering if he should tell him or not. "It was my Ma's favorite flower. One of the few things I remember 'bout her. She died when I was real young. I always pick one when we come out this way. They only grow out west."

"Oh."

Arthur glanced over at John. The boy became solemn, his eyes falling to the mane of his horse.

"What is it?"

"I never knew my Ma. S-She died havin' me. My Pa never told me much 'bout her."

Arthur understood how the poor boy felt, and sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

They were quiet for several minutes. Arthur scratched his cheek, uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. "Susan's strict but she cares a lot more than she lets on. And-And Bessie, well, she's the gentlest woman I know. I've come to care for them as mothers, in their own ways. I'm sure you will too. Them two ladies would never let anyone touch a hair on your head. Bessie for sure. She has quite the soft spot for you."

John smiled. "I like Bessie a lot. She's the nicest lady I've ever met. I-I like Miss Grimshaw too. I know she cares, even when she's bein' tough on me."

Arthur chuckled. "I'd be pissin' my pants more if I saw them two comin' after me after you were hurt even over Dutch 'n Hosea. You ever see Miss Grimshaw grab a shotgun while fumin' you better hunker down, boy, 'cause things are 'bout to get ugly. Hah!"

John laughed with him. "I wouldn't doubt that! She can be scary."

They took another trail going up into the evergreen forest along a rocky ridge. The path was worn down to dirt and rocks that jutted out from the soil, so they had to slow their pace some for the horses. Camp wasn't far now.

"I overheard Hosea and Bessie talkin' a couple weeks back, not long after we got here."

"You're a nosy little bugger aren'tcha?"

"Hey, they thought everyone was sleepin' and I happened to not be. But anyways, well, it worried me a bit. Sounded like they wanted to leave us."

Arthur shot his eyes over at John from those words. "Surely, you misheard. What did ya hear?"

"Bessie asked Hosea if they would ever try again. To leave this life behind and start their own family. Hosea asked her if she wanted to, but I didn't hear an answer. I dunno if she shook her head or what. But it's what Hosea said next that confused me."

"What did he say?"

John thinned his lips, thinking back. "He said…he said there's an internal conflict within Dutch, one that he doesn't even know about. And Hosea said he has to stay by his side…to keep Dutch from feeding an inner wolf…whatever that means. That he has to guide Dutch as well as protect us. He said he fears that Dutch is becoming disillusioned with his own beliefs, but I don't know what he means."

Arthur scowled, not sure what to take from those words either. For some reason, he thought back to Dutch's behavior at the Warren homestead when they saved John from being hanged. Arthur didn't see anything wrong with what Dutch did, seeing it as an "eye for an eye" for what Mr. Warren tried to do to a young boy, for all the corruption he was behind in Hickory and Andell. But there had been a certain…burning in Dutch's eyes that Arthur had never seen before.

Arthur shrugged. "Eh, Hosea worries too much sometimes. I'm sure it's nothin'. He and Bessie tried goin' straight once and came back. The thing is…Dutch and Hosea are a package. One cannot function without the other. Like buddy-sour horses if you try and separate 'em."

"So, it's nothin' to worry 'bout?"

"Nah, 'course not."

"Oh, good."

They came upon the camp, hidden in a glade within the spruce forest and half surrounded by an overhanging cliff. The tents and wagon were stationed around the rocky opening. A campfire was smoldering near some sitting stones and a log. The horses were hitched in a grassy patch near the cliff.

The gentle rumble of a small waterfall sounded on the other side of the cliff as the water cascaded into a basin next to the camp before flowing out into a large river.

Arthur and John hitched their horses with the others and got off. Arthur took the pronghorn off his horse and carried it over to the butcher table to skin later.

He looked around camp. Bessie was washing clothes in the basin while Susan hung some sheets up to dry. Hosea and Dutch were at a table, a chessboard in between them. Both looked to be in deep thought as they considered their tactics. Dutch was black and Hosea white, but Arthur didn't understand chess too well and so was lost at who was winning.

Arthur and John had just taken off their satchels and gun holsters when Susan stamped their way with a look in her eye.

"Uh oh," John muttered.

"John Marston, look at you! You look like you've been in a pigsty!"

"Sorry Miss Grimshaw, my horse threw me on the way home. I'm goin' over to the water barrel right now."

"Oh no! That won't do. You need a bath!" Susan pointed down nearby at the basin of clear, cold water.

John's eyes went wide. "What?! No way! I'd rather be eaten by wolves!"

John slipped behind Arthur to avoid Susan's grabbing hands. Susan stepped around Arthur's back, and the two preceded to chase each other around, using Arthur as an obstacle. Arthur watched them go round and round while arguing, catching Bessie's and their leaders' attentions.

"Arthur, help me!" John cried.

"It's just a bath, you little imp!"

Arthur groaned. He reached out and grabbed John, picking the boy up off the ground easily. He started walking for the basin with John fighting his clutches.

"There's no use fightin' it, John. Let's just get this over with."

He stopped at the water's edge. The water was clear and clean, but the basin sloped fast, becoming deep and turning dark blue in the middle. There were tons of fish in the water, and a gentle ripple came from the waterfall.

"I know you don't like water, but the sooner you get clean, the sooner we can get about our business."

"It's not that!" John hollered, squirming. "I…I can't swim!"

Arthur narrowed his brows. "Whatchu mean you can't swim?"

"Just that, ya dummy! I never learned and ever since I almost drowned, I've been scared to! Now let me go!"

"I know how to fix that."

"Wha-?"

Arthur tossed John into the basin. Susan gawked, jaw going wide as the splash sounded across camp. John burst out of the surface, gasping, limbs flailing. Soon Dutch, Hosea, and Bessie ran up.

"Kick them legs and move them arms, you'll learn!" Arthur yelled.

"You're evil!"

"Arthur, what the hell are you doing?!" Dutch snapped.

"What? That's how my Pa taught me," Arthur defended.

"Your daddy wasn't exactly right in the head then!" Hosea exclaimed.

"Well, he-" Arthur started, but Dutch smacked him hard across the back of the head. "Ow, hey!"

"Get in there and get him before he drowns!"

Arthur jumped into the water and swam the short distance to John. The clean, blue water turned brown from the muck washing away from the flailing boy. Arthur reached out and snagged John, and like a prickly bur, the wild boy seized onto him and wouldn't let him go.

He got to the basin edge and was helped out by Dutch and Hosea. John clung onto Arthur's back, terrified, soaked, and shivering.

"Sorry, John. I thought it would work with you too."

They helped John down. The boy glared up at Arthur, still shivering and dripping wet. "Your pa was an evil bastard, Arthur!"

Arthur shrugged. "I mean, ya ain't wrong."

"You alright, John?" Hosea asked.

"I think…so."

Dutch sighed. "Susan, Bessie, could you please clean him up?"

"Sure, Dutch," Susan replied.

Bessie took John's hand and guided him for the wagon to clean him up and get him fresh clothes. John followed silently, leaving a dripping trail behind.

Arthur felt Dutch's and Hosea's chastising glares on him. He blinked at them. "What?! He got clean didn't he?!"

Dutch shook his head. "You just graduated to a new level of big brother."

"Try to refrain from throwing John into bodies of water in the future until we can teach him how to swim…the proper way," Hosea said.

"Alright, sure." Arthur scratched the back of his neck, looking down at his own soaked form. "Well, s'cuse me, gentlemen. I better change and get to skinnin' an animal."

The sun had disappeared beyond the western horizon, and the stars glowed like perfect orbs across a black sky. Like infinite shining jewels, they lit the sky up in a spray of brilliance. They glimmered so vibrantly, Arthur felt he could reach up and pluck one from the heavens. He admired their beauty while eating his supper. They seemed so…endless.

John sat beside him, wolfing his stew down. The boy still ate like a starved dog, and Arthur was sure the boy ate nearly double he did. He had gained a little weight since being with them, but was still a scrawny twig.

He was clean now, even his hair seemed a bit less greasy. Arthur was surprised he was even sitting next to him. John sure had been mad for Arthur throwing him into the basin.

"John, I'm…sorry for that. I didn't know that almost drownin' freaked you out that much. Ya know, when my Pa did that to me, I panicked, but…but I learned. I guess."

John wiped his mouth with his sleeve, looking up at him. "It's alright. I know you meant well, even if it was really mean. But your Pa…well he weren't right in the head!"

Arthur laughed. "Not arguin' with ya there. But hey, we'll teach ya properly, whenever you're ready."

"Okay."

Dutch approached them at the campfire, a cigar curled in a finger. Hosea and Bessie played dominoes at the table while eating, and Susan read at the other end of the campfire while she ate.

"Arthur, I'm going to need you to come into town with me tomorrow."

Arthur sat his empty plate aside, nodding. "Alright, sure, Dutch. What're we doin'?"

"Meeting a man named Colm O'Driscoll. Supposed to have a good handle on any jobs out this way. We could help each other. He mostly works in California, which is where we're headed. So…could be a promising start."

"Oh, can I come, Dutch?" John asked, thrilled.

Dutch smirked, flicking the ash of his cigar into the campfire. "No, son. Not this time. It may be dangerous. I appreciate your enthusiasm though. Don't worry, you'll get to come with us soon enough."

John frowned. "Okay."

"How's your shootin' coming along?" Dutch asked him.

John glanced up at Arthur then smiled at Dutch. "Comin' along real good, Dutch. I'm gettin' better!"

"Good to hear. Say, how about you and I go out shooting when we get back from town tomorrow? I think it's my turn to give Arthur a little break anyways. I can show ya a little trick you may like."

"Really? Sure!"

Dutch chuckled, ruffling John's head. "That's my boy. Now, don't forget you have a study session with me and Hosea after supper, ya hear?"

"Oh, right. Yes sir."

"Arthur, try to get to bed at a decent time tonight. I need you well-rested for tomorrow, son."

"Don't worry 'bout me, Dutch. I'll be ready."

Dutch patted his shoulder and left the campfire. Arthur sighed and scooped up his empty plate and spoon. John handed over his empty plate as well.

"You want seconds?" Arthur asked.

John shook his head. "Nah, I better get my study over with."

"Yeah, I better get my chores done."

"Will I ever get to go with you and Dutch on jobs?"

"Well, sure. You just got to get better at shootin' and readin' and writin'. You're getting there, John. Dutch is real proud, he praises 'bout you all the time. You'll get to come with us before you know it."

"Ugh, just seems like I'll never get the hang of it."

"You will. I thought the same too. Dutch and Hosea and well…me also…we just don't want anythin' bad to happen to ya. We're just bein' protective, is all."

That got a smile out of John, and he looked grateful. "Thank you, Arthur."

Arthur playfully smacked the boy on the arm. "Course! Now, get over there and learn some readin'. Maybe we can play some dominoes later."

John left to go to Dutch's tent. Arthur took their plates to the wash bin and went to feed and brush the horses. Since the sun went down, the temperature dropped considerably. Arthur knew that winter was getting close, and hoped they would make it to California before the first snow.

After tending to the horses, Arthur helped Susan and Bessie with the laundry and dishes. He stopped to peak into Dutch's tent. A lantern lit the tent up, and showed Dutch sitting next to John and Hosea sitting across from them. John looked like he was mouthing something from a book.

"He's such a good kid. I'm so glad we found him," Bessie said, looking over at the tent as well. "He deserves much better than what's he had growing up."

Arthur slowly nodded. "Yeah. We all had it rough, but he…well, it ain't been easy for the boy. You can tell he ain't used to nobody carin'."

"You're right. He's sure has taken to you though. Follows you all over the camp…eager to go with you hunting or shopping."

Arthur rubbed his neck. "Yeah, well, he likes to follow Dutch around too, ya know."

Bessie giggled. "Ain't nothin' to be embarrassed about, Arthur. He looks up to you. That's always a nice thing."

Arthur softly snorted a chuckle, lowering his head. "Well, he likes you a lot, Bessie. I think…I think he may see you as a mama he ain't never had."

Bessie put a hand over her heart, a smile gracing her beautiful face. "That…That means so much to me. I'm happy to hear that."

Bessie stood up on her tip toes and kissed Arthur on the cheek. "G'night, dear. You boys be careful in town tomorrow, ya hear?"

"Yes, ma'am. G'night."

Arthur went to his tent to do some writing in his journal. He kicked his boots off and took his hat from his head. He pulled the flower from his satchel and admired it for a moment, thinking back to the blurry memories of his mother. He placed the flower in a jar and sat it to the side by his bag and weapons and his pictures.

John's writing and reading lesson went on longer than Arthur thought it would, and so by the time he was done scribbling in his journal, John finally appeared and crawled into the tent with him. Arthur wasn't surprised. The boy had his own tent now, but there were many nights that he slept with Arthur in his tent. It annoyed Arthur at first, but he had come accustomed to it and didn't gripe about it…too much.

"How'd it go?" Arthur asked, shading the sketch he drew of his Ma's flower.

"Good, I s'pose. Went on longer than usual. We didn't even get to play a game."

"Maybe tomorrow then."

"You draw really good."

Arthur pulled the journal closer to him so John couldn't see. "Don't be peekin'. This is for my eyes only."

"Dutch has a similar journal. He has some drawings in there, but not as much as yours. He writes real fancy though. Maybe one day I'll be able to read what it says."

Arthur heaved a sigh. "You ain't supposed to read or go through other people's things. It's rude and wrong. Better not let Dutch catch ya doin' that, or he may tan your hide."

"Ain't that what we do though? We go through folks' things and steal them?"

Arthur snorted. "Gotta point there. I meant your friends' things."

"Do they always stay up late talkin'?" John asked, looking out of the tent.

Arthur followed his gaze out of the tent and across the way. Hosea and Dutch sat at the table, both peering at the stars as they smoked on cigars. Hosea pointed at something in the sky while talking, but Arthur couldn't make the words out.

"Most nights, yeah."

"What do they talk about?"

Arthur grumbled. "I dunno. Life, philosophy, their dreams. All kinds of things."

"Must be nice to have a friend that you can do that with. To have all your trust in, to care for you and have your back. That you can tell all your hopes and fears to and-and know they will do anythin' for you."

Arthur closed his eyes, releasing a quiet breath. He reached over and grabbed his hat. He placed it on John's head. John smiled, his eyes tearing away from Dutch and Hosea to look up at Arthur.

"You have that right here. We all got your back, kid. We all care about you, and will never let anything like what happened back at that homestead ever happen to you again. You need someone to confide in…we're here."

John's cheeks flushed, but he looked so happy as he reached up at felt Arthur's hat. "Thanks…Arthur. I…I never thought I would find a place I could belong."

"Well, now you have."

"I promise, I will learn and become strong like you and will return it...I'll be loyal and strong and do anything in my power to help and protect you folks. I care 'bout all y'all very much."

Arthur chuckled. "Alright, alright. No need to get all emotional. I get ya and I have no doubt in it. Now, c'mon, let's get some shut eye. We got a long day tomorrow."

Arthur laid on his pallet and fluffed his pillow. He sat his journal aside by his satchel. John got comfortable on the other side of the tent on his own pallet, still keeping Arthur's hat on his head.

"Why do you like my hat so much anyways?" Arthur asked as he snuffed out the lantern.

"I don't really know. When I first saw you in Hickory, I just thought it was neat looking, and wanted it. But now…I think it's 'cause it's yours, and it makes you look like one of them legends or heroes you hear in them wild west tales. And when I wear it…I feel like maybe I can be like you one day. Brave, and strong, and loyal. That I can be a good man."

"Not sure if I'm any good. What we do ain't good. But you'll be a man one day. I plan to give that hat to my son, if I ever have kids that is. But who knows…maybe one day, I'll give it to you instead."

"I always wondered what it would be like."

Arthur glanced over John's way, but couldn't see him in the dark. Only the dancing of flames shimmered within the tent.

"Wondered what?"

"What it would be like to have a brother."

Arthur softly smiled. "Me too."

[seraphinnas-blog]

⟡⌜⇴ ABIGAIL SPENCER ⌠ 36 & she/her ⌡: have you seen SERAPHINA SELWYN ? SHE is an ESTATE MANAGER & WIZARD ART TEACHER who’s apparently also A DEATH EATER. When you see her walking around, be careful, because while she can be DUTIFUL and ARDENT, I heard she can also be pretty SADISTIC and DOGMATIC. ( cami & 18 & she/her & gmt )

↠ boi, get ready for a far too long wild ride as i try to do my best to attempt to write an evil character

THE SELWYNS:

↠ inter lutum duro mundus. i will stay clean in the mud. this sentence will greet you in every gate into a property of the old and noble selwyn family, and you can find it in the marble stones around the houses, in the ancient wooden framing of portraits, in the archives, filled with letters to loved ones with the gentle reminder that the selwyns will rise above any perils. it’s a message of comfort that even seraphina sometimes writes in such tempestuous times to her relatives. 

↠ the selwyns are the symbol of old money. and i do mean old. their records, with some alterations to the spelling of the family name, go back centuries, but some books claim them to be amongst those taught personally by hogwarts’ founders. the selwyns are very meticulous about history, especially THEIR history, what they can hide in it, what they can boast about, and how to keep careful records of everything. their archives are precious for wizard historians, and can often be found as references in books.

↠ the selwyns are also, or even, above all, symbols of tradition. while they’ve always kept building newer better houses, they’ve protected their oldest estates, and use some of them as museums of wizard history, just like we’d visit old castles and palaces. they turn good profit from all their estates, in which many find work, especially but not limited to house elves, and all sorts of countryside things you can imagine create money? they do it. farming, honey, wood, cattle, wine, cheese, horse and the raising of other more magical animals. the selwyns have quite the empire in the united kingdom and even some spots abroad.

↠ one specific tradition that has kept the family very relevant has always been the annual hunting celebration. started in the 1740s, it has evolved and changed but kept some traditional aspects: only purebloods are invited; it happens at the selwyn country house in north yorkshire (the first major estate of the family to survive till today); it’s a must-go october event, pouring rain or not, with large feasts set outside and inside; children run around with pretend wands and sticks, playing hunter; those old enough ( read: about seven or so and allowed by the parents ) leave into the woods with bloodhounds and return with all sorts of death. deer; gnomes; bore; doxys; nifflers; ducks; red caps; even misbehaved house elves; killed, skinned, and (most of them anyway) cooked in the same event.

↠ the selwyns are just so deeply embedded in wizard traditions and wizard history, even with very very very few of them ever having ministry related jobs. in fact, seraphina can only trace a few more distant cousins working at the ministry in the last 50 years, and there’s only ever been one selwyn minister in all british history. that is because their estates, their museums, the art pieces they collect in them and all the products of their country side holdings already provide all the power and money they could need. their parties, be it for hunting or not, are monumental events. everything they hold is a powerful part of the tourism industry in magical britain and everything they produce fills half the pantries of purebloods in the nation. the selwyns are simply a fundamental part of wizarding britain.

CHILDHOOD

↠ it was this simple: alma and octavio selwyn couldn’t have any biological children. after years of trying, it became obvious that there was some sort of problem. for a few generations, the once rather fruitful selwyns were having smaller and smaller batches of children, and many less important branches of the family were dying out - alma always blamed it on the classical pureblood inbreeding from both families.

↠ this is the part where i make shit up about wizard society and we run with it. adoption is very real in pureblood society, some cases fully hidden, others an open thing, but no one really properly talks about it. especially not when it comes to such an important and well respected family. it wouldn’t be the first time the selwyns or other wizards would have adopted a baby. it’s just tabu because in most cases, it’s not possible to fully confirm if the child is, in fact, a pureblood. the selwyns were assured by the orphanage for magical children in vancouver that the little girl, less than three years old, was a pureblood. their meticulous research lead to the same vague conclusion, but it was pointless, really. after all, the couple was in love with her big brown eyes from the moment they saw her in a photograph. “i just knew you were my daughter,” explained her mother once, in the rare occasion that the whole ordeal was mentioned. one change of name ( hannah, she’s been told, but it’s forbidden now ) and all of a sudden she was the long awaited HEIR to the fast aging couple. they were head over heels with the little girl and soon, despite the hints of controversy, so was most of pureblood society.

↠ there are questions in her mind that she’s yet to have the courage to ask. especially those concerning the legitimacy of her blood status. she’s the heiress of the selwyn throne, there is no space for doubts and self reflection in that. seraphina was always told to not show weakness, for others could taste it in the air and come in with wands raised. what could be weaker than doubting yourself?

↠  despite the occasional transgressions ( she remembers the way her mother slapped a cousin who dared to question her princess’ very pure blood, how the relatives from zurich were not allowed to visit anymore ) seraphina grew up rather sheltered and happy. in a family that highly values education and tradition, she was tutored by many, including some of her father’s old tutors, learning many languages, types of art, magical theory and, above all, the legacy of the selwyns and how to manage it in the future. she also learned all the fine skills of a high ranking lady, being sent for short periods of time to those small wizard finishing schools abroad - that all changed when her hogwarts letter came.

↠  suddenly, she wasn’t sharing her environment with other rich, powerful and mostly pure blooded little heirs. but she would stay clean in the mud. sorted into ravenclaw, it was an easy fit ( curious, competitive, a hub of knowledge, in everything for herself no matter how many backs she must stab ) but even her generation was too liberal. too many mudbloods complaining about being beaten by other students. too many blood traitors around her. seraphina was never the overly violent type ( despite having throw some jinxes at some people occasionally, and some other minor actions ), but her real accomplishments were the ↠  she started many groups and clubs while at hogwarts, in defense of a return to tradition, to the good old society in which muggle borns were ostracised, werewolves done away with eugenics, all the things that even in her time could be considered somewhat radical. and she got some following. the headmaster kept shutting them down, calling the groups hateful, and she’d calmly reply that they were simply trying to spread out some important philosophies. that didn’t stop complaints from flooding in, especially from concerned parents.

↠ seraphina, or sera for the close ones, didn’t need high grades. she had been groomed to run the many family businesses, starting with small sections when she was still at hogwarts and in the future to inherit it all, but she CRAVED learning, especially the sort of learning that could feed her views. she was very interested in history of magic and magical theory, and after some time caring for the family business, she returned to hogwarts. not quite full term ( damn binns taking up the position of teacher of history of magic ) but as the professor for one extracurricular - art. or rather, wizard art.

THE GREAT WIZARD WAR

↠ in the same year seraphina graduated from hogwarts, she was approached by voldemort. her views were so interesting and strong, and her family lineage so powerful that voldemort took it upon branding her with the dark mark and keeping her in his close circle almost immediately. her techniques are curiously vicious, and she truly approaches missions like fox hunting, loves letting some targets lose in forests and running after them. brings in dogs and other animals to scare them off. is very methodical and very cruel without a care - after all, they are an infestation. they are stealing places that belong to the truly worthy of magic, the purebloods such as her. they are ruining what’s meant to be a sacred and secret gift and destroying the great society wizards once were. how can she not be cruel to such sub-human kinds?

↠ that’s why she does what she does. she believes, with her whole heart, that she’s restoring the world by ridding it of all those impurities. and she’s so hellbent in her beliefs, so dogmatic.

↠ the selwyns have been associated with dark wizards before, but rarely ones this important, as they always feared they’d try to overrule them, overthrow the mighty family. their houses, however, were always safe harbours for dark wizards and those running from aurors - it is rumoured that grindelwald hid with the selwyns for quite some time as he organised his army. but seraphina always wanted to do something more, to leave her particular mark in the long family trees, especially given the little voice in her head that told her she did not belong there.

↠ not being a selwyn makes her want to be the most remarkable selwyn that has ever been.

↠ while she definitely had her hands full with high society living, being one of the managers of her family empire. and a devoted death eater, seraphina craved more. as such, at the age of 22, she earned the position of wizard art professor.

↠ she’s been teaching ever since ( despite the suspicions everyone, including staff, has about her off duty activities ), taking some time off and returning again, never fully committed as her responsibilities to the selwyn name are far more relevant. her knowledge of wizard art history, given how many pieces her family owns, secured the position for her, and she does genuinely enjoy having something to call her own, not just a family thing. it’s HER classroom. she also investigates the blood status of each of her students and after strings of terrible marks and rudeness to muggleborns, tells them she believes they’d find a better fit at the muggle art classes. her agenda is VERY much pushed in the classroom.

↠ while she does have a passion and skill with art, let’s be real. she mostly just teaches wizard art history and interpretation. field trips to one of the selwyn owned museums? every term. field trips to unseen works of art stored in off-public sites at a selwyn property? every term.

↠ her love for history is a bit twisted because while she does adore archives and all that stuff, she mostly just picks and chooses what goes along with her rhetoric. history revisionist? very much. go buy ‘the witch hunt for grindelwald’, ‘squibs and the charges of witchcraft against their own families - the horror of the spanish inquisition (1560-1710)’ and ‘tales from the resistance: interviews to death eaters active in the 1970s’. more books to come, definitely. all just as controversial.

↠ her second biggest passion, after history, is hunting. she was brought on the annual hunts ever since she was just a little kid and she grew a love for the rush of searching for something she wanted and getting it, even with blood on her gloves.

↠ the war has been dragging on, with some low points for the death eaters but more, especially lately, for their enemies. she’s been an unshakable supporter of the cause ever since the second she joined, having spilled much blood for it, her own and others’. does part of her wish it could finally end? ye. she wants to get on with her life properly without having to rush to missions all the time. but it can’t end until their goals are fulfilled and merlin, they’re still so far from it. so, dutiful as she is, seraphina doesn’t whisper a word, but she’s tired. they all are. if only she could lower her guard once more, just for one day, for one peaceful moment in which the world is right and all she and her partners have suffered and even died for can be real.

↠ she just wants some goddamned peace and quiet but also, she’d miss human hunting. because remember, awful person.

↠ has killed muggles who have somehow wandered into or near selwyn grounds despite all the spells around it. has thrown them to the dogs.

↠ currently mostly lives in one of the smallest estates, a country house in wales, just because it was always her favourite. her parents, both still alive, live in other estates, always moving around, and the three ( along with a few cousins, especially in the abroad businesses ) work together a lot but it’s very obvious that sera is very much in charge of most things. her parents are old, tired, and more than ready to let their very well prepared jewel do as she pleases.

↠ can often be found reading or writing. especially letters. sends the LONGEST letters with a meticulous elegant handwriting. the selwyn family seal is always in them as is the family motto.

↠ still tries to start shit with hate groups !! still founds them, supports them, is very open about her beliefs and about her support of the death eaters ( even if she never tells anyone she’s one ). sends letters to the ministry to ask for social measures considered by many archaic and purist. writes op-eds. also, buy her books !! they’re full of ideology, history revisionism and currently on sale in your local bookstore.

↠ that’s the thing, you can’t quiet seraphina. her name means fiery and for good reason - she’s calm and collected and beyond well educated, but if she explodes, her rage is a wildfire. and when she feels something, she feels is so damn much. and can’t really cope with most of those feelings so she just hides away where there’s some pretty art or where she can hold an animal’s corpse.

↠ what is emotional stability? what is healthy coping? what is feeling anything but the very extreme?

↠ always wears robes. expensive, custom made, gold thread and that sort of shit in it, but always wizard robes, even if they’re just over a beautiful outfit. looks very traditional and very regal at all times.

↠ also wears gloves very often. good for not staining her hands, and also because has a bit of a thing with germes.

↠ the mental image of her grinning has me so confused because she is DEEPLY passionate about things and people and life, but she can as easily be grinning while looking at a 16th century painting, at a lover, or at the tortured pleading nearly-dead body of a muggle.

↠ she’s a terrible person. fight her.

character parallells: ramsay bolton ( game of thrones ), serena waterford ( handmaid’s tale ), the argents ( teen wolf ), katherine pierce ( the vampire diaries ), jessica huang ( fresh off the boat ), lucy preston ( timeless ), jessica pearson ( suits), arya stark ( game of thrones ), veronica lodge ( riverdale ), cristina yang ( grey’s anatomy ), idk pals i’m bad at this bit

pinterest board ; timeline ; stats