#disrespecting the noble dead

[trexalicious]

No REAL VETERAN wants to hear from this delusional drug addled loser...

[fantasygerard2000]

What are Wish takes you heard that just makes you wanna

[ittgirl23]

Sirius planning Walburga’s funeral:

-Makes all the blacks carry the casket (Orion, Sirius, Regulus, Narcissa, Andromeda, Bellatrix)

-as they’re carrying her, he plays Welcome to the black parade (cuz it’s all the blacks)

Sirius: mouthing lyrics in a distracting manner, and laughing maniacally

Andromeda: also cackling

Narcissa: trying not to laugh

Regulus: also trying not to laugh

Bellatrix: threatening to curse them all

Orion: too deaf to hear the music

They end up dropping her because they’re all laughing too hard, and she rolls out. Guests are half horrified, half laughing.

And that was Sirius’s final fuck you to his mother.

[isaacathom]

naielle is so much fun to play when shes super stressed, is angry, has been recently knocked unconscious, or is drunk, because she suddenly loses a barrier between her head and and her hands and mouth and starts doing shit like curveballing a cup into the commodores head because he made a bad joke

[miss-choco-chips]

Kyou Kara Maou but Yuuri is the one who introduces people to a tradition for once. It goes a little like this -

There's a rumor in court that the King doesn't really love his fiance, and sees him as a friend or brother in arms. They got engaged for political reasons, you see. Or by mistake. There's no intent there. A few dream of proposing to the king, and have him maybe accept, but most know that's a moot point- he's always with Lord Weller, his bodyguard. No one can get past that man, less of all close enough to the king to actually strike him. So, the smart ones decide a better way to get into the king's good graces and into his inner circle would be by proposing to his fiance. Free him of an unwanted arrangement, become something like a sibling in law by marrying his long time companion, AND get a drop -dead gorgeous husband?? Its too good of a deal to pass up.

And so it starts, one night during a ball at the castle. Yuuri is dancing with Greta, while Wolfram smiles tenderly from the side, and the way the gesture lights up his entire face and turns his stern demeanour angelic gives the last push of bravery a tipsy noble needed. The slap is heard throughout the hall, and everything, music included, quietens at the sound. Wolfram is frozen in place, cheek stinging. Conrad and Gwendal approach, storms in their eyes. Yuuri, confused and a little annoyed as he starts to understand what's going on, follows suit.

He has to duel the noble, of course. As the one of higher standing between him and his friend, it's either he fights the dude for Wolfram or 'gives him up'.

'You can get rid of the engagement like this', Murata points out.

'Wolf isn't an object to be passed around,' Yuuri replies, getting ready for the fight. 'And he doesn't want to marry the guy- I won't free myself by trapping him somewhere else'

He doesn't go too hard on the noble. Poor guy was kinda drunk, he probably didn't mean anything by it, and he doesn't deserve to have his shit rocked because he made an impulsive decision while deep in his glass. Yuuri can also empathize, as he, too, has felt the need to hit Wolfram in the past (and he understands his beauty is the type that makes people do dangerous things).

They think the matter is settled. That it's a one off, weird but whatever.

Then, it happens again, when Wolfram is taking a stroll through the gardens with Greta. The noble lady responsible had thought the last attempt made had failed because the man decided to slap Lord Von Bielefeld in front of the Maou. Of course, even without an emotional connection, the gesture was too disrespectful to go unpunished. She grins as her hand makes contact, uncaring about the young princess bursting into tears and running off. Wolfram, this time, gathers himself fast enough to feel pissed. If not for the guards holding him off, weary of how tradition dictates the only retribution given might come from Yuuri, he'd have cooked the woman alive.

By the time Yuuri gets there, hand in hand with a still weepy Greta, he's mad enough by the fact someone dared make his daughter cry that he duels the woman right there in the gardens. After it's done, Wolfram huffs, still indignant, and marches his king and princess back inside, leaving the guards to deal with the waterlogged lady.

Okay, the nobles think. So maybe the Maou has to save face, and feels forced to accept any challenge thrown in his own home. No big deal! Lord Von Bielefeld is escorting the King on a diplomatic meeting when a dignatary from the neighboring country, the one they are visiting, goes up to him and strikes.

Conrad is the one holding Wolfram back this time, while Yuuri, angry after a full day of negotiations going nowhere, takes the chance to work off some nervous energy and dons his sword for the duel. Murata, again, points out Yuuri could use this as a chance to end the engagement. Yuuri, who's heard Wolfram ask late at night, on a very quiet voice, 'they think me so easy to steal? Am I worth so little to them?', shuts him up with a glare. It was never funny to begin with, but now it's really, really not funny.

The general consensus is, then, that it shouldn't be done while the Maou is nearby at all, or in his castle. Pursuers gain confidence then, attacking again and again when the young lord is on patrols, back on his uncle's lands, or simply out and about. Wolfram's guards become twitchy, trying their best to stop this from happening but not having much success, dreading the moment they are sent to call for the Maou so he might fight for his fiance.

Yuuri fights no less than 15 duels, having to cut meetings short, postpone his trips to earth and cancel baseball practice to do so. He's getting angrier and angrier, frustrated and... Something else he has no name of, at how many people are apparently wanting to take his place on Wolfram's life.

He still entertains the entire thing because that's tradition, apparently, and it has to stop eventually, right?

Until one night, when they are alone in their room, Wolfram turns away from him in the bed and whispers how maybe they should end the engagement. If people think him so easily stolen, his image must be pretty bad, not at all like how a future king consort should be; and he's seen how tired Yuuri is of having to defend him. His pride and feelings are hurt, and for the first time in his life, Wolfram is contemplating giving up instead of fighting, his usual fire dimming with every careless duel.

That's when Yuuri gets up from bed, terrified and furious at the notion, and storms into the treasure room to look for the thing he needs. And during the next big feast at the castle, like the one that started this madness, he calls for attention and explains to everyone how proposals are done in Earth. How one gets down on one knee, begging their partner to accept a ring in exchange for the rest of their life together. How no one can take that ring off, except the one that put it there or the one who wears it, and even then it's by their choice alone. How it's a promise and a vow and something unbreakable, forever.

And as he says this, he kneels in front of Wolfram and presents a precious ring of emeralds and onix, and once again binds Wolfram to him.

No one else proposes to either of them, after that night, even though Wolfram's smile had shone so bright it put all the jewels in the room to shame.

Gunter doesn't stop crying for a week, while Gwendal is busy planning the wedding.

[tightjeansjavi]

Et Auream - Act III : The Girl

A/N: I just want to start off by saying that for this chapter and the next, please heed the warnings. Also, I have included one historical inaccuracy regarding the reasoning for Marcus to tell Aurelia his first name. His reasoning was because only those who were worthy could know a gladiators true identity, and since she is about to save his life, he feels that she is worthy. Historically, roman male citizens had three names: first name, family name and nickname. It would be seen as too intimate or disrespectful to address a male citizen by their first name (typically only if this male citizen was an emperor or someone in power). This is why Geta, Caracalla and others refer to Marcus as Acacius. Aurelia is the only one who has been granted the privilege to call him Marcus (thus far) Thank you to @sinsofsummer for betaing as always <3 word count: 4.9k Summary: Marcus opens up about his past to Aurelia, but does not divulge further than what he is comfortable with. Time is forever fleeting, but he hopes that their meeting will not be a one time occurrence. Pairing | Marcus Acacius x f!oc Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! This chapter includes SA of a minor (not by Marcus) loss of virginity, hyper sexuality as a result of SA, slight stockholm syndrome (if you squint) sexual enslavement, domestic abuse, canon typical violence, angst, misogyny, minor character death, language, +18 minors dni! If I have missed anything, please let me know! series masterlist

When Aurelia was just a little girl, and the world was bright, shiny, and new to her innocent eyes, she begged her parents for a horse of her very own. A beautiful ivory mare, or a sunburnt black stallion. She was too young to understand the pecking order in society, too naive to recognize that her family was not blessed with riches from the gods above. No, her parents were poor common folk; farmers whose only duties were to produce enough crops to feed Rome and her noble pupils. She didn’t understand the means of power, wealth, and status. 

Her parents prayed to the gods for their crops to prosper, and the gods answered, but a sacrifice would have to be made. her parents promised that where she was going, she would be rewarded with a thousand horses of all different shades and breeds. Instead, she was met with an iron collar around her delicate neck; a symbol of ownership. She was a slave to a Dominus, stripped down to an object to be bought and used in whatever means he felt necessary, and she had only just flowered. 

Her parents abided by the god’s wishes for them to sell their only daughter, and yet, their crops shriveled and dried to dust. It was too late, the damage was already done, and she could never return to the home she once knew. 

When Aurelia’s parents sold her off to senator Cassius, she had expected to live her life of servitude in a dingy cell, wearing tattered garments and begging for scraps. No matter how foul and unsettling Cassius was in her eyes, in a twisted way he did treat her better than she had expected. Atleast, she had convinced herself that he had. He ensured her that she would be educated in the arts and literature and all things a proper Roman lady should be taught. For that, she should be grateful, but only bitterness resides when she imagines the life she could be living had her parents not thrown her away so carelessly.

She was granted her own room and bed with silken sheets and a wardrobe with garments of every color. Handcrafted and threaded with the richest fabrics she had ever laid her eyes upon. Cassius prided himself in his appearance and so the same expectations were set upon her.

The first night of her new life, Aurelia found herself helping him undress and sink into the bath that she had prepared for him. He paid no mind to the obvious scald marks appearing on her small hands from the water being too hot for her delicate skin to handle. “You will tend to me in whatever manner I may request of you, Aurelia,” he said sternly, leaving no room for her to protest against his command. “Yes, my Dominus,” she responded quietly, her voice laced with nervousness. He grinned at her displeasure and ignored the fear that lingered in her eyes when he grasped her wrist, smaller than his own, and he dragged her hand beneath the steaming water to wrap around his hardening cock. 

“I will make you happy, my pet. Just do as I ask and never fight me,” he hummed in contentment and his head tilting back against the fine porcelain as her wrist moved around his hardened shaft with shaky, insecure and unguided movements. 

“Yes, my Dominus.”

He didn’t wait for her to be well adjusted to this new life. He was the type of man who would take as he pleased, no matter the consequences. “You will lay with me tonight in my chambers, Aurelia,” he said from the entryway of the bathing area. A linen towel was secured around his hips, and she took little notice of her hands trembling as she followed him down the dimly lit hallway and to his private quarters. After that night, she was no longer a girl. She was a woman. This was evident from the dry crusted tears that laid like canyons upon her soft cheeks and the blood that stained his linen sheets with the loss of her innocence and youth.

As time went on, the pain subsided little by little. It left her experiencing confused and conflicted feelings. It felt wrong to experience pleasure from the monster, a man that took her away from the only life that she knew. Yet, her body began to crave it; yearned for that forbidden touch and that crescendo of muscles spasming, and her cunt fluttering. She felt like a woman entering her divinity through the arousal of slickness between her thighs and tender breasts; a body graced with curves, swells, dips, ridges, and soft skin.

Like summer turned to fall, and fall to winter, her feelings began to sour; turned bitter like grapes that exceeded their fermentation period. Resentment reared its ugly head the further she strayed from girlhood and entered into womanhood. All those hours of studying had gifted her knowledge that she once did not possess, and she wanted more out of her life. She craved freedom above all. Her anger and resentment towards him manifested and she could no longer keep it at bay. Her youth, stolen from her, but she intended to gain her autonomy back in some form. This angered Cassius greatly that his once perfect, compliant, obedient, pet had begun to unabashedly disobey him. She was his. His property. her mind, body and soul belonged to him, and him only. 

“You will never be free from your servitude. No matter how many fruitless hours you spend praying to the gods. You will always belong to me,” he hissed through gritted teeth, towering above her trembling, cowered body that laid upon the cold tile in his chambers.

Her cheek felt hot to the touch where he had struck her, and the tang of copper bursted along her tongue from the torn flesh of her upper lip. 

She glared at him through her tears, vision blurred before becoming clear once again. His bedroom chamber was deathly silent. “I belong to no one.” 

He swiftly yanked her up by the scruff of her neck dragging her at his will towards the crumpled sheets along his bed. “You will remember my once unconditional kindness after I have fucked the defiance out of you, girl.” 

She knew no tenderness from him after that night and was only met with cruelness. 

She took solace in Cassius aging faster than most men, but perhaps it was due to the constant stress of losing the bitter war against the Caledonians and being a trusted advisor to Emperor Geta. Any day Cassius could lose his tongue…or his head, and she found herself praying for his death every morning and every night to no avail. 

When Cassius was away for days, weeks at a time, she found her freedom and solace through familiar faces. The brothel became her oasis along with its inhabitants. She lay with men, women and indulged in the simple pleasures. Her garments became tattered at her own doing, and she finally felt as if she owned a sliver of her autonomy once more, but she was not yet free. 

The Ludus Magnus

“Marcus,” he whispered, “My name is Marcus.”

Time ceased to exist for both the golden one and the gladiator. He had never told a single soul his true birth name that his mother had bestowed him. No one in his twenty three years of life was worthy to know his identity–until he met someone who had shattered his psyche and stitched it back together all in one breath. He did not believe in soulmates–at least, he thought he didn’t. There must have been a reason why his mother came to him in his dreams and spoke the words she did. It made him believe that she was somewhere out there, watching over her son, and doing all that she could to lead him down the right path. Surely, this stranger would be entwined to his fate and him to hers.

“Sir…” her voice wavered, “I am unworthy to know of your birth name.” 

Marcus gave her an incredulous look, one with furrowed brows and lips pursed in utter confusion. “What unworthiness do you speak of, my lady?” 

“Your birth name is sacred to your creed and identity, is it not? Only those who are closest to a gladiator, such as a family member, or lover is worthy to know of one’s birth name.”

His lips pulled into a small, yet noticeable grin, and for a moment he forgets about the pain from his deep wounds in his back and the pulsing sensation in his shoulder “You are familiar with my creed? Then you speak true. Only a person of worth is granted the knowledge of my birth name, my lady. You are more than worthy. You’re about to save my life after which I will be forever indebted to you.”

“You are not yet out of death’s grasp, Marcus,” she reminded him. 

“Then we must not waste another moment, my lady.” Aurelia positioned herself behind him so that she could easily assess the damage that was inflicted to his back and shoulders. The lacerations were deep, and she could only imagine how many times the biting sting of a whip was brought upon him. The tips of her fingers gently brushed an unmarked area of skin with careful tenderness. The scar that resided there was raised, and although it did not cause him pain, he flinched nonetheless. “I…noticed in the arena that you favor your left side,” she said quietly and sat back on her haunches before reaching for the pitcher of water and vial of olive oil. “You are very observant,” he said softly. “Is there a reason as to why you favor it?” He turned his head over his shoulder so that he could observe her briefly, before he faced forward once more. “I suffered an injury when I was just a boy.” She tore a strip of fabric from her stola and dipped it generously into the water. “This will sting,” she warned him preemptively. The soaked strip of fabric descended against one of the lacerations. The cooling touch is soothing, yet the pain intensifies. He lurched forward from the sensation, gnawing on the soft flesh of his cheek so that he would not cry out. “I fell from my horse,” he continues. “How old were you, Marcus?”

He did not immediately respond, and his mind began to drift to that fatal night where his entire world was turned upside down. He inhaled a shaky breath before continuing, “I was nine.” “It was the eve of my tenth birthday–and it was entirely my fault. I should have been more careful, but my own recklessness guided me. All it took was for me to lose my stirrup, and my whole life changed.” “What happened?” “What didn’t happen,” he muttered through clenched teeth. His entire body tensed up, and it had nothing to do with his physical wounds, and all to do with his mental ones. “If I had not fallen from my horse, my father…would still love me.” His words were laced with bitterness, sadness, and guilt at the forefront. “I–I don’t understand,” she whispered in confusion. “Your name,” he said suddenly. He was not yet ready to divulge in something that was deeply personal. “What of it?” “You have yet to tell me.” “Marcus,” she starts. “It is not of importance right now–” “Please,” he begged. “I must know your name, my lady.” “Aurelia,” she concedes in a whisper, “my name is Aurelia.” “Aurelia,” he repeated, testing the way it sounded on his own tongue.

“You do not have to reveal more than you feel comfortable telling me, Marcus,” she reassured him. “You would be the first to hear of my past in its entirety, but I am not ready to revisit it.” “I understand,” she said earnestly. Silence passed between them, the words of her name echoing in his eardrums, Aurelia, the golden one.

She worked methodically on tending to his wounds, and when they are fully cleansed, the pitcher of water faintly reflects a light pinkish hue. “Marcus, did you always want to become a gladiator?” she finally broke through the silence with a question that left him frozen on the spot. “No,” he muttered. “Had I been given the choice, I would have declined it, but the choice was never mine to make. My father–he sold me to a slave trader that was well-known for training gladiators for the Colosseum. The first time I grasped a sword, I was thirteen, and I had no desire to…kill. When I turned eighteen, and had proven myself as a valiant fighter, I was brought before the emperors. My Dominus was reluctant to sell me, at first, but Geta was persistent, and offered more coin than my Dominus had ever seen, and well…here I reside.” “And I presume that your reasoning to defy the emperors in the arena was because of the resentment you hold towards your father?” 

“You ask many questions, Aurelia,” he said flatly, but intended for it to come across as lighthearted and teasing. 

“I’m—sorry…” she trailed off. “I should not pry,” she bowed her head in shame 

He turned around fully so he could face her and when he took in her appearance of shame, he frowned and gently brought the knuckle of his pointer finger to rest beneath her chin. 

“Aurelia, do not feel shameful for your curiosity. Your questions do not upset me, my lady. Forgive me if my tone has expressed otherwise. It is…comforting to have someone to confide in. I have never experienced these privileges until tonight.” 

She lifted her chin slowly, her eyes meeting his softened gaze in the dim light. “It is a privilege that most do not get to experience in their life.” 

“Indeed,” he sighed and slowly dropped his hand from her chin and rested it on his bare knee instead. “I do not know what came over me in the arena today,” he admitted. “I have killed many men before without a second thought…but I saw the fear in his eyes, and I just could not bring myself to kill him.” 

“Marcus, to not kill when you have been commanded, takes compassion and bravery. I have never witnessed such an act. It left my Dominus enraged and perplexed. It is the reason that I sought you out this evening. When we returned to our villa, I could not stop thinking of you.” 

Heat began to rise to their cheeks in tandem and he swiftly averted his gaze to the wall behind her instead. 

“I feared for your safety, and despite knowing the risks of traveling after nightfall, I…had to make sure that you were okay,” she continued. 

“Emperor Geta did not command that I would be punished for my defiance,” he said as if he was capable of reading her mind and knew exactly what question was lingering there.

“He did not?” confusion etched across her face at his words. “Who gave the command?” 

“Well—I am under the impression that he did not give the command, and his praetorians took it upon themselves to punish me. I imagine that sounds a bit…improbable, but I did not hear him utter the command,” he let out a frustrated breath as he himself could not wrap his mind around what had taken place hours prior.

“That does sound implorable, but I believe you.” 

“You said that your Dominus is a Senator, yes?” he interjects.

“Yes, he is,” she confirmed. “He works closely with the emperors, but mostly Geta, or so I have overheard.”

“And you haven’t had the displeasure of acquainting them, have you?” He referred to the emperors. 

“No,” she shook her head. “Cassius does not allow me to stray far from his side, or to be in the company of other men. He is unaware that I have left the villa, but he spends his evenings in the brothel for many hours.” 

“Be grateful that you have not made their acquaintance, Aurelia. Nothing good comes from either of them,” he said gravely.

She nodded in understanding. “Your wounds will heal with time, Marcus. I have done all that I can to cleanse them. Olive oil contains healing properties. It will keep the wound moist, and repel debris from contaminating the surrounding flesh. If the gods grant you reprieve, you will not face an infection,” she murmured. 

“You’re leaving?…” 

“I must,” she said regrettably, and slowly rose to her feet. “Cato will still be expecting to return me to my Dominus, but I intend to slip away before he has the chance.” 

“Cato will be asleep by now, my lady. He nurses a bottle of wine each evening, and sleeps till late dawn.” 

“Regardless, I should leave you to rest,” she insisted. 

The likelihood of Marcus ever seeing her again was slim, given the circumstances that they were facing, but something in his heart told him that this would not be a one time occurrence. 

“Will I see you again, my lady?” his tone held a sense of hope, something he hadn’t felt in many years. 

“If the gods allow it, then yes, you will,” she said with a reassuring smile. “I am grateful to you, Aurelia. If the gods do not allow us to see one another again, I promise I will hold onto your kindness in my heart. Go now, quickly!” he said hurriedly. “Ride fast and swift. I will pray that your travel is perilous, my lady,” he reached for her hand and brought it up to his lips, brushing the soft skin of her knuckles with a farewell kiss.

“Iterum visurus sum, Marcus. Promitto,” (I will see you again, Marcus. I promise) she whispered.

He dropped her hand from his embrace, falling back against the wall in exhaustion, “Adero, te exspectat, auream unum,” (I will be here, waiting for you, golden one)

Palatine Hill

The moon had since risen high in the starry sky when Geta returned to Palatine Hill. His evening had been the most pleasant in the company of a woman that he had intimately gotten to know over the years. Her name was Laveda, and the first time she had made an acquaintance with the young emperor was at a brothel. He would visit her often in his hidden moments of distress, and tonight was no different. The emperor showed up with a hood covering his brassy curls, concealing his identity. She welcomed him between her thighs without a single question leaving her tongue.

The palace was quiet and he had expected that even Caracalla had retired to his quarters for the evening, but this was squashed when he heard a hushed voice coming from the grand triclinium (dining room). He investigated further, driven by curiosity.

“I advise you to cease your squirming,” Caracalla whispered against the ear of a servant girl belonging to Geta. “There will be a severe price to pay if a single drop of wine leaves my cup and does not end up on my tongue,” he warned her.

“Dominus, please,” she whispered in his grip. Her eyes were glassy with tears reflecting the soft glow that was emitted from the many surrounding candles.

“Do you know what happens when you struggle, my dear?” he posed the question in a seemingly non-threatening way, but his tone said otherwise. “I will constrict around you like a snake, and my coils will tighten and tighten till those pretty eyes bulge right from your head!” he cackled manically.

She struggled further, not heeding his warning and all hope seemed lost until she locked eyes with a familiar figure looming in the entryway. “Emperor Geta!” she cried out in relief.

Caracalla scowled and followed her gaze till it too landed on his brother’s displeased look written across his face. “And like a savior dressed in gold, he arrives,” the younger emperor said with an annoyed roll of his eyes, “You have quite the impeccable timing, brother.”

Geta gave her a reassuring nod, and granted her a moment of reprieve. “Why are you antagonizing one of my servants, Caracalla?” he walked further into the room and dragged his ring hand above one of the flickering candles. His eyes locked onto his brother’s in a staredown.

“I have all the authority to antagonize her, Geta. She came to my chambers on your orders, after all. I was actually quite touched at the gesture…until she tried to murder me!” he said dramatically to make a show of it all. He was a wild fan of theatrics and the eldest emperor didn’t bat an eye at his pointed accusation.

“He lies!” the servant wailed and Caracalla swiftly slapped her cheek with the back of his hand to silence her.

“Peace, brother,” Geta said calmly and took the seat across from him. “Your accusations are false. I was…attending business all evening. I would not have the time to confide in one of my own to carry out such a treachery.”

“Ah, business,” Caracalla wiggled his eyebrows suggestively in a light jest. “I even have the weapon she carried that was intended to kill me,” he dangled the small blade in his freehand as proof.

“That could belong to anyone, Caracalla. There is no proof that she was in possession of it. I demand you release her this instant.”

A deep set frown crossed over Caracalla’s features and he drew his attention back to the severant, whose name he wouldn’t even bother to remember. He pointed the edge of the blade against her cheek that felt hot to the touch from the phantom bite of his cruel hand just moments ago. “Can’t you just play into my theatrics for once?” he sighed in disappointment, but his eyes flickered with something truly sadistic and amoral as he drank in the terrified look painted in her irises.

Geta rubbed his temples with his ring clad fingers, the ruby jewel on his left middle finger reflected in the candles glow. “Perhaps if these…theatrics did not involve one of my own servants, I would be more willing to participate.”

“Iocum de omnibus suges, frater,” (you suck the fun out of everything, brother) Caracalla hissed.

“Immo ego, tyranne,” (Indeed I do, tyrant) Geta said coolly.

Caracalla dug the edge of the blade into the softness of her cheek. A bead of blood pooled at the surface of the shallow wound, causing her to whimper from the sudden pain.

“You will play along, Geta. Especially with her life so delicately hanging in my grasp,” he chuckled. “So, what will her fate be, hm? Will you be merciful like Acacius?”

“I will not have you spilling her blood so carelessly. There is no game to play, Caracalla. Now, I will ask you again, release her this instant.”

“Ah. Ah. Ah. That is not how the game is played! Pretend that we are back in the Colosseum and she is begging for her life!” Caracalla said gleefully and dug the edge of the blade further into her cheek. “That’s your cue, girl. Beg for your life and make it believable!”

“Mercy, I beg! Mercy upon me!” she cried out, but Caracalla was unsatisfied with her performance and proceeded to drag the blade down her jaw and to the column of her throat. He leaned in close enough that she could see his pupils dilate and grow darker.

“Your performance is quite…pitiful,” he snickered. “You can do better than that.”

“Caracalla,” Geta said in a warning.

The younger emperor simply waved him off and applied pressure to the edge of the blade against her throat and locked eyes with his brother with a sadistic grin plastered on his thin lips. “Beg for your emperor to be merciful.”

She cried out into the peaceful evening air, begging and pleading for her life to be spared and when Geta arose from his seat, Caracalla’s hand ‘slipped’ and the edge of the blade sliced through her throat fatally. He released her from his grip as she clawed at her neck, blood spurting onto the table below and all over Caracalla’s evening robes, staining golden hues to deep crimson. She made a chilling gurgling sound that emitted from the back of her throat and her body slumped across his lap, twitching before growing still.

“Oops. My hand must have slipped,” Caracalla said with a light sigh that was lacking empathy. He looked down at her deceased body, still warm in his lap with disgust and pushed her to the floor beneath his sandaled feet while she continued to bleed out.

Geta stood unmoving, his left eye twitched, but he did not advance towards his brother. “I quite liked that one,” he muttered under his breath and reached for the empty chalice in front of him. He snapped his fingers once and another servant appeared with a pitcher of wine trembling in her grasp. She quickly poured his wine and was careful to not spill a single drop. Before she could retreat, she felt the cooling touch of his many rings brushing against her skin as he gently grasped her forearm. “Peace, girl. Retire for the evening.”

She bowed quickly and turned on her heel to leave.

“Leave the wine!” Caracalla barked.

The pitcher was carefully set down in the middle of the table and soon the two emperors were alone.

“You’re too soft with them, Geta,” Caracalla muttered over the rim of his chalice.

“No, I just consider all those who serve me to be valuable. I don’t wish to see any of their blood spilled and wasted so carelessly,” he gestured to his dead servant on the floor.

Caracalla glanced down at her deceased form and to disrespect her further, he placed his sandaled foot to rest upon her cheek as if she was his own personal foot rest. “And what of Acacius? Does he still hold a great value to you even after his display of defiance?” he questioned sharply.

“Even in his defiance, Acacius is still valuable. He has always been strong spirited, and I will simply just have to tighten the reins a bit. He will soften to me eventually, but all in due time.”

“That is if he lives much longer,” Caracalla mused and swirled the contents of his chalice with a bored expression.

“He’ll live long enough to vex you, I am certain.”

Caracalla snorted under his breath at this. “And tell me, brother. How do you intend to tame a heart as fierce and defiant as his? How will he suddenly grow loyal to you, hmm? Furthermore, even if your plan is successful, he has no experience on the battlefield and zero strategy. Brute strength will not be enough to sustain our armies.”

“Our armies?” Geta snarled as he leaned over the table, narrowing his eyes at his brother. His upper lip curled in disdain.“You mean, my army?” His tempered demeanor had shredded away, and his claws were unsheathed.

“Your army? The same army that will be wiped off the map if you and I do not reach an agreement? Do you wish to see Rome fall to her enemies, brother? To be stripped of our titles and forced to be slaves for the rest of our miserable lives? You wouldn’t last five seconds having to serve someone outside of yourself,” the younger emperor snapped coldly and the tension brewing between kin could be sliced with the very same blade that was stained with the blood of the innocent.

“An agreement?” Geta snorted at his brother's blatant idiocy. “I will be the reason that Rome remains in power. When Acacius becomes the general of my army and defeats my enemies, you will be eating your words. How foolish are you, truly? Servitude? No, you amentis, (idiot) they will have our heads displayed on spikes for all to see if Rome is to fall.”

“Temper, temper, brother. There is no need to grow restless, we are simply conversing, are we not?” he cackled. “Perhaps your business did not quench your thirst entirely, hm? I cannot say the same for myself,” he subtly gestured to the dead servant. “She met mine quite well. Shame that she had to die…I would have quite enjoyed having her in my bed again. Which of your servants shall I kill next?” he leaned over his half of the table, his eyes dancing with mischief as he took another long sip from his chalice, teeth gleaming in claret over the golden rim.

“My business satisfied me plenty, brother,” Geta responded with a curt nod and rose from his seat.

“Oh, before you go,” Caracalla commenced and leaned back against the plush cushion situated at his lower back, “Perhaps for your next attempt at murdering me, you choose something…” he snapped his fingers as he tried to think of the word, “discreet,” he grinned. “Ah, Yes! Discreet. What about poisoning me?” he suggested. “You could slip something into my drink or food and I would never know.”

“That is the most wicked, Caracalla. I quite enjoy the mental image of seeing you claw at your throat as blood seeps from your eyes. I think that is what I will dream of tonight,” he tipped the rim of his chalice in Caracalla’s direction mockingly.

“And I will dream of cutting your vile tongue out and feeding it to one of your whores,” Caracalla quipped back.

“Indeed,” Geta mused. “Sleep well, brother,” he said with a subtle wink. He downed the rest of his wine before setting the empty chalice along the table, leaving the room without another word leaving his lips.

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[esggs]

[ #2, Lord!Sukuna x knight!reader, heian-era trueform Sukuna, d/s relationship, graphic descriptions of torture and violence as a metaphor for love, misogyny, yandere!reader, jealousy, gnc reader, 800+ words ]

pt.1 (feast)

No one wants to bring the news to you: Sukuna has taken another knight. 

One he found mid-battle, similar to you. Young Gojo-kun, a sprightly boy only a few years younger than you, possesses the Six Eyes and Limitless cursed technique. One who apparently professed his loyalty to Sukuna in exchange for training. One who sits pampered in his tent across the post-war encampment. 

That you raged back into your tent, fell down weeping, bashed your things at the walls, ripped your hair and tore your robes off screaming in anger… it was all heard by the worried guards posted in front of your chambers. Never had they seen their noble knight with veins of cold steel so. It did not calm them down when you emerged from your doors, kimono falling off your shoulders, eyes puffy red, hair dishevelled, and your hand grasped, with foreboding surety, around your sword. 

The All-Seeing Gojo-kun titters at your state. His tent is among the largest, his throng of admirers sitting around like so. His feet are slung over a makeshift throne, about 20 paces from your determined steps.

“What an honour! The Butcher, in flesh!” He mocks. “Make space, Benkei, find a seat for the mistress-in-chief’s royal ass!” He takes no notice of the audience gasping, the inconceivable disrespect for someone like you. 

10 paces. “Won’t you please us with a dance, dog? Like you do for your master? A little tail-wagging?” Gojo-kun has nothing to worry about. Not only is he blessed with God-like sorcery and the heirdom of the Gojo Clan, he has the protection of Sukuna himself. Nothing can wee old you do to him.  

5 paces. “Please, I only tease you as a friend, haha! Will you go tattle to Sukuna now?”

3 paces. “But he won’t care, will he? Not when he’s bored with his old toy. One with no cursed technique.”

2 paces. “Not when he has me, the pinnacle of jujutsu sorcery.”

1 pace. You plant your footing in front of the smug Gojo-kun– “Keep crying for him like a virgin bride, you know that he’ll never return your pathe– ” and you cut his head off in one clean flash of your blade. 

Screams, a rushing crowd, weeping maidens, enraged men. Damn, you muse. That brat must’ve really gotten to me. My hand shook so much. Because why else would a few untorn threads of muscle still dare to patch his idiotic head onto his neck? The boy is still breathing. Good.  

You drag Gojo-kun’s body, his ornate robes collecting grass-dirt, by the hair. People stand by terrified lest they catch your eye. In his last moments, you correct his previous statement: you do have a cursed technique. Pain like rats are clawing through their chest, pain like they are being skinned and broiled alive, pain like their eyes, tongues, fingers and genitalia are being torn off…You can give one such pain at the time of their death. And the way his dead eyes are crying, you know that he’s penitent. 

His body flops to the ground as his neck-muscles finally snap apart. Tsk. Now you have to carry the head in one hand and rest in another. All the way up to the master tent, where Lord Sukuna must be holding court. 

No guard dares stop you. The courtiers part in haste. Sukuna himself sits up, eyes wide in shock. Like a wolfdog bringing a dead sparrow to present to its master, both parts of the corpse are dropped, as are your knees, to the ground at your Lord’s feet. 

“I caught this rat stealing from your granary, Sukuna-sama.” What a bold-faced lie, but which fool would correct you? “I protected you.” 

Sukuna knew that you were tamed in the sense that you did your best to be tame for him. He did anticipate some ill-feelings from you when he brought the boy along, not blunt murder. Should he punish you? You certainly deserved to be disciplined; he had grand plans for the Six-Eyes. But to look into the insanity carved in your stony eyes as you pointedly refuse to call him ‘my Lord’... No, I understand now. 

This was your way of saying, if the brat deserved to survive, he would have. Your cruel mouth says he wasn’t worthy of you. Your jealous heart says I am all that you require, my Lord. 

You dragged his corpse all the way here not to profess guilt but for something completely different: you want praise. Sukuna has never denied you anything. 

“Well done, knight.” Your Lord’s voice rumbles like rocks through the silence. “We are all grateful for your service.”

You offer him a deep prostration before you excuse yourself. The next time Sukuna spots you is at the dinner banquet, merry-making and loud-laughing with your comrades, sake and deer-meat aplenty, your knight uniform shining, long hair tied neat, sword pristine as a white lily. 

masterlist

a/n: Set in the Heian era (794-1185 AD), this Gojo isn't our Satoru Gojo, to clarify that. He also never got the chance to activate his Infinity before getting his head lopped off, poor guy ig.

knight!reader primarily fights with conventional weaponry, infuses cursed energy and uses New Shadow style techniques (which they discovered and founded), cuz their CT is pretty useless in actual battle. Most people, like Gojo-kun here, think that they don't have one. they're a horrifically savage fighter, tearing enemies into chunks, hence is also called 'The Butcher'.

While the biological sex of the knight is whatever the reader wants it to be, socially they play a male role. they dress in male military uniform, fight alongside men, were given a man's education, and get duties and respect that a man of that time would get. realistically, a woman would never get the high ranking of a knight.

knight!reader is not Sukuna's mistress or anything like that. it's just mean-spirited gossip. their relations are intensely close and kinda fucked up tho :)

[orphiclovers]

Hear me out about yjh and blondes: 999 yjh x Uriel

YES I'm so into this pairing you have no idea. and lol about the blonde thing. yjh has a type.

I've talked about them some under the tag #999yjhuri (ship name pending...) so check that out but yeah I love them they're canon to me! I don't even know where to start talking about them because I have so much to say

The thing is that Uriel loved her captain so much. 999 is the only turn we know of where she was one of Yoo Joonghyuk's companions and it's sooo significant to that round specifically because she is an ANGEL and a constellation of the Absolute Good system!

Uriel saw this one man who sacrificed everything for his companions and decided she wanted to fight by his side. He was the 'good' she saw in the world. And then she had to stand by helplessly and watch as his soul and body withered from the outer world covenant. and see up close as with the same noble sacrifice she fell in love with he destroyed himself.

But they thought they could make it to the end of the scenarios at least, they were so close, but then at the very last moment he DIED IN HER ARMS!!! And she lost her mind with grief and swore eternal vengeance upon the one who took him away.

The good in her soul died with him! She who was the righteous 'absolute good' angel of Eden for thousands of years was so broken by his death she chose to become evil, to become the very thing she swore to destroy

And of course this neatly ties into spuri, the one who was the object of her single minded obsession for thousands of years. Even to the point when it made no sense, when she learned who he was, it didn't matter because the bloody path of vengeance was all she had and all that kept her alive.

And then there's the huge complicated mess of what SP thinks about 999 Uriel. His careful neutrality when she attempts to kill him and burns down his forest with all the inhabitants. The was he doesn't react because he thinks he is reaping what he sowed. He says to Kim Dokja that this is the consequences of his mistake - sees her as a divine punishment for his sins in the 999th regression rather than as a person who wants to kill him

And at the same time in his mind there exists 999, who, quote off the top of my head, 'sighs in lamentation at the sun' when she attacks N'gai. 999 is COMPLICATED and I won't get into his insane psychology in this post but in short, he feels pity for her and all the rest of his companions who turned into outer gods (and also SP...) but makes the frankly correct decision to not come back to them even though he technically COULD, because it would cheapen everything they went through. There is no way to turn back time and save your fallen companion, even when there is. He KNOWS they live in his memory and that's why he can never return (kim dokja anyone...). He does his best to stay dead, even in his afterlife.

And, stay with me here, there's the love triangle of it all.

Both Uri and SP wanted to save 999 but neither of them could. And she despises SP for killing the love of her life but they both wanted the same thing, for 999 to be happy!

I think about SPuri in the post epilogue OD household. Even though Uriel accepted that 999 wouldn't come back and gave up her futile revenge quest against SP, there's still lingering awkwardness and tension there. After hating him for so long it's difficult to act normal around him. I imagine she treats him with civil distance.

And then, when SP does something small that reminds her of 999, she has to look away to remind herself that 999 didn't want to come back and to respect his decision, berating herself for mistaking SP for the man she loves, which is disrespectful to them both.

Even though SP didn't often think of 999 and himself as the same person, I think spending all his time around the 999th turns companions + having 999s memories in his head would inevitably bring out old habits and that side of him more. To all around bittersweet feelings from the outer gods, not just Uriel

[discordiansamba]

azula's first memories of zuko are all of him ignoring her.

she'd try to show him something, and he'd brush her off. she'd try to follow after him, only for him to start walking too quickly for her little toddler legs to catch up. sometimes she'd fall. zuko would just ignore her. when she was really little, she didn't understand why he was so mean to her. he was her brother. she just wanted him to like her.

when she was older, she found out that was only half true.

she and zuko shared a mother- but they had different fathers. her mother had briefly been married to someone else before she'd married father- and zuko was a product of that union. she'd always noticed that zuko didn't look like anyone else in their family, but she'd never known the reason why. she asked her mother about why she'd left her first marriage. she just gave her a sad look and changed the subject.

her father was more forthcoming.

mother's first husband had been a commoner. her grandfather had wanted mother to marry her father instead- something about her being from avatar roku's bloodline. he'd absolved the marriage, and mother had married her father instead- but she'd already been pregnant with zuko at the time. her grandfather hadn't wanted to turn away a child of roku's bloodline, so he'd grafted him onto the family tree.

"that's why," her father had smiled at her, "-you're so much better at everything than he is. you have royal blood in you. even with avatar roku's blood in him, your half-brother is just a peasant."

azula had taken comfort in those words. she didn't need to be liked by her half-brother. she was better than him. it couldn't be more obvious that it was true- where zuko struggled, she always succeeded. nowhere was it more obvious than it was with their bending- her first flame was strong and steady, unlike zuko's pitiful, sputtering thing.

grandfather still chose to keep him around.

then grandfather was dead- and mother was gone. not long after, so was zuko- he'd gone to live with his swordsmanship master. he would return eventually- father couldn't simply excise him from their family. it would be considered disrespectful to grandfather's memory. she'd asked father anyways. he'd only laughed and told her that his existence only served to make her look better.

she didn't think she needed it. she was a princess- born with the divine right of rule. her uncle, when he returned to the palace, would look at her sadly and tell her that he wished she would get along with her half-brother. azula had scoffed. get along with zuzu? why would she bother? he'd never wanted her around to begin with. she was just returning the favor.

zuko returned to the palace with even more of a commoner's stink to him. she didn't think it was possible.

she was there when he sealed his own fate. it was stupid, really- who cared about some stupid servant? zuko, she supposed. he'd stood up for them over a general of old, noble blood. if he'd been a real prince, it might have not been a big deal. but for a fraud like her half-brother? grabbing the hand of a noble was the ultimate insult.

he really should have expected the agni kai.

(she'd give him a few points for actually trying to fight. not by much- he'd still lost, naturally.)

father banished him- sent him on an impossible quest to find the avatar. azula assumed that would be the last she'd ever hear of him. he'd probably die in the earth kingdom somewhere. everyone knew the avatar was dead. the cycle was broken. he'd never find them.

(and then he did.)

[reddeaddamnation]

"Possession vs Obsession" - Sub-Zero x reader x Scorpion- Chapter IV

Summary: An arranged marriage between clans in the name of peace ironically disturbs the peace of the two brothers who find themselves in a new feud. This time between themselves. Betrayal and heartache had been destined for them since she entered their lives. Y/N of the Shadow-weaver clan, promised to Bi Han, future Grand Master of the Lin Kuei, stands in front of the difficult decision- to end the war between their clans or end the war within the Lin Kuei temple.

"Foolish girl..." Bi Han muttered as he carried Y/N into the temple in his arms. It took all his strength not to collapse as soon as he saw the familiar safe space of his home. He had to be strong. For the clan and for her. Y/N had lost too much blood, now barely lingering on the thin line between consciousness and unconsciousness. The way here was much more difficult for both of them, as they had to rest more often and that caused hypothermia to weaken the Shadow-weaver even more. Bi Han tried to talk as much as possible along the way. He didn't remember talking this much in his life. He didn't even know what to say... Only opting for stories from his battles throughout the years.

"What the hell happened, Bi Han!" Kuai Liang rushed over to them, looking over the wound on her arm and the bruises around her body. He was angry... Y/N tried to focus her eyes on him. Even though her vision was hazy, she could make out the worry in his body language. Bi Han tensed. "What do you think happened?" He snapped back "Step aside, she needs a doctor."

But Scorpion ushered him to stop. "I will handle that. You go see father." With an annoyed tsk, his brother allowed him to take the injured girl from his arms. The chill feeing was immediately replaced by warmth and comfort, making her feel safe, finally able to relax. She heard Kuai Liang call her name multiple times, but unable to answer him, she closed her eyelids, lost in the sound of his beautiful voice.

She had no idea how long she had been unconscious. When she opened her eyes, a sharp pain in her arm quickly sobered her up and she focused her eyes on the first thing she laid them on - Kuai Liang... not Bi Han... "You're awake." He spoke softly "I was becoming quite worried." Y/N looked at her arm. The old makeshift bandage, drenched in blood was replaced by a fresh one and she felt stitches tugging at her skin. "You're safe now." Scorpion reassured, reaching to touch her hand gently with a smile on his lips.

"Thank you... I'm glad you..." Abruptly, she was cut off by Thomas who burst into the room, worry splattered all over his face. "I came as soon as I heard. Oh, Y/N..." in several large steps, he walked over to the bed she was laid on and looked over the damage. "What happened to you? Didn't Bi Han protect you?" Y/N looked away from both of them, biting her lower lip, contemplating her words carefully. "I... I saved him from being in my place right now." She explained quietly "He didn't see a swinging sword in his direction, so I intervened, which caused my own distraction." The boys shared a look, but didn't cut her off in any way "One of the... things we were fighting slashed me. Then... I would have been dead if Bi Han hadn't saved my life. So you can say we're even." She scoffed.

"That was very noble of you." Thomas spoke first "It's a lie what they say about you Shadow-weavers. Bi Han treated you with nothing but disrespect and you still saved his life. I'm glad you're alright now." The girl nodded with a smile. "I'll leave you to rest now. You two did a good job. You deserve all the rest you need." Smoke squeezed her hand lightly, reassuringly and made his way out of the infirmary.

Pushing the blankets aside, Y/N attempted to stand up herself. "What are you doing?" Kuai Liang asked, watching her with furrowed brows. "I should see the Grand Master." She explained "I had enough laying around." She pushed herself off the bed. Her feet touched the cold floor. But after less than three steps, she felt lightheaded. Dizziness overwhelmed her mind and body and she stumbled back. With lightning fast reflexes, Scorpion stood up and held her before she could fall.

For a moment, Y/N reveled in the warmth of his body, hands on his broad chest. His touch was gentle, welcoming... like she belonged there... Bi Han was cold and rough... Even when he was holding her yesterday while treating her wound, he was distant, as if she was a business ordeal. Like he had built an unseen wall of ice between them. She looked up into Kuai Liang's eyes again and saw him staring back at her with worry. "Please... don't push yourself." He murmured. His hand reached up to caress her cheek with a feather like touch, into which she leaned more.

Kuai Liang, mindlessly lost in the moment, eyes staring deep into her own, whispered softly "I was afraid of losing you..." Then, he blinked, snapping back to reality after the realization of what he had said. "I... That wasn't my place to say... I'm sorry." He stuttered, sitting her back on the bed gently. "I should let you rest now..." his hands were a bit shaky. Y/N's heart was beating like mad. She wanted to scream at him to stay... that he was wrong and in facr it was his place to say what he said...

Until the reason it actually wasn't met him at the door. Bi Han walked through the door, eyeing the two of them, searching for something even he didn't know what for. "Have some shame, brother." Kuai Liang glared at him on his way out "Not being next to your future wife in the infirmary..." Sub Zero stared at him as he walked away, wondering what his problem could be. Ultimately, he shrugged it off, deciding not to cause scenes in front of an injured person. "I didn't thank you for what you did in actuality." He came closer to her "So... Thank you."

Y/N smiled slightly, nodding her head. "I should be thanking you, Bi Han." Oh, how lovely his name sounded coming from her lips... "I very much didn't expect that from you." He changed the subject "Nor did I expect you to hold a fight the way you did. Impressive." The smallest smile could be seen tugging at the corner of his lip. She blushed, biting her lip to stop herself from smiling too much at his comment and looked down, avoiding his gaze shyly. His hand reached over to touch her cheek... the same one Kuai Liang held only moments ago...

[omkookie]

Where has he done wrong? 

⌈ ⚠️ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⌉ Yandere!Chevalier, Implied Noncon/Rape, Mentioned dead body + Imprisonment, The reader is crumbling apart.

“No! Stay away from me!” You screamed at him, not knowing that you were bringing back memories of when he was a child, and his mother did the same exact thing. Chevalier remembers it all. Every time his mother had a meltdown, every time she was in hysterics… He remembers it all far too well, and seeing you like her left a bad taste in his mouth. 

Where has he done wrong?..

Imprisoning you was an awful thing that no human could take, but Chevalier did it all for your safety… The women of Rhodolite’s royal court were all doomed to die, and suffer a cruel fate. His mother was proof of that, and so were all of the other women the late king had fancied. He didn’t want you to suffer like them. As a result, he did his best to prevent it. 

He protected you from all of the malice in court, He eliminated all threats… He even got rid of spies sent here by that eye patch bastard who wanted to keep track of you.

Locking you in his room for so long, isolating you from all the others was the right thing. 

The others were dangerous to you. He knew far too well from the countless number of assassins that he cut down. You would not be safe near people. A simple commoner amongst nobles would be shunned, Treated with disrespect and disregarded even if she was the future Queen. He did everything to protect you. 

He almost cut Leon down for you. Nearly starting a war with the domestic faction, because his foolish brother tried to meddle with your business. 

How were you mentally unstable? 

Why did you end up so afraid of him?

Despite the countless books that he’s read and knowledge that he has, he can’t comprehend your situation… Or he refuses to. Maybe his mind didn’t want to admit that everything he did to you was wrong and inhumane, even monster-like. 

He looks down at his feet in frustration, before he moves towards your curled up body. You were sobbing on the floor, your cries refusing to die down even when you felt him wrap his arms around you. In fact, you were probably crying harder now because he touched you.

He holds you close to him, petting your head like you were some child he had to comfort, and he lets out a sigh. “Get yourself together, Simpleton.” 

It’s an order. 

Everything that leaves his mouth is an order. 

You bit your lip, trying to muffle your cries, but tears continued streaming down your face. “You’re a monster!” You somehow rasp those horrible words out between tears. His arms around you tighten as he is once again reminded of his mother. 

She said the same things. 

“Enough.” He picks you up, carrying you over to the bed on which he throws you down mercilessly. “Don’t do it! Don’t touch me!” You scream at him whilst trying to scratch and hit him. All of your resistance was merely because you didn’t know what love was.

He’s sure of it. 

You don’t know what it’s like to love someone as much as he loves you. You don’t know what it’s like to harbor such affection and feelings. You were clueless. So clueless, that he’d have to teach you. He’d have to keep you here, in the confines of his room until your mental state improved enough for him to take you out and present you as his Queen. You’d have to stay in his room and study. Inform yourself enough to make yourself a smart woman who is suitable to stay by his side. Knowledge is power, and while you are in his room you have more than enough time to obtain that power. 

You’ll come to terms with your feelings sooner or later, and realize that you do love him. 

You’ll love him. 

And for now, he’ll indulge in your body to show his love for you physically.

When you do come to that realization that you love him he’ll forgive you for all of your childishness. For behaving like his mother. 

He strips, taking his sweet time to peel his clothes off as you quit thrashing and simply lay on the bed motionless. What was to come has happened enough times for you to know that it’s hopeless. You can’t do anything against him. Compared to Chevalier, you were weak. Weak, fragile… frail…. A gentle little bunny who could not fight back against a beast. 

Looking up at the ceiling, you tried to ignore the stench of blood in the air, as well as the slayed body of your maid on the floor. This was the consequence of getting caught by Chevalier. Anyone who tried to help you was brutally murdered in his flashy cold-blooded style.

He gets on top of you, and you simply avert your eyes towards the bookshelves, Not wanting to see his face. You stare at the colorful book covers as his hands unbutton your plain white dress, and his fingers deftly take off your underwear. “It wasn’t so difficult to stop crying now, was it?” He asks, making you feel the urge to kick him. He sighs while throwing your dress to the side, finally stripping you bare before him. 

His lips are on your neck in an instant, and he sucks another harsh bruise amongst the countless number of hickies littering your collarbone, neck and chest. You don’t grace him with a response, and he doesn’t look too bothered by it. 

Even if he once considered love a worthless and unnecessary emotion, he could not deny that it had turned into a motivator for him. A motivator to work hard, expand the kingdom, and strengthen Rhodolite’s relationship with its neighbors. He wanted to work hard just for you, Maybe to impress you… Maybe to make you proud. Maybe, all he wanted all these years was love? which he never received, so he decided it was a useless thing. 

But you can give him that love now, right? Sooner or later, you’ll give him your affection and attention. Only for now… he’ll resort to receiving your affection physically, as you don’t even dare to look at him.

What an odd twist of fate. Is it because of Chevalier’s mother that he turned out to be so screwed?

[aloneatpeace]

Fall Of Empire

SECRETS OF THE NIGHT '8'

Summary :𝓯𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓼 𝓪 𝓯𝓾𝓷𝓷𝔂 𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓸𝓯 𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓹𝓮𝓸𝓹𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱 𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 . 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓷 . 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓭𝓮𝓷𝔂 𝓸𝓻 𝓵𝓲𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓼 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓼..

→✒️:★: ͜͡✿͜͡ →.- this is pure fan fiction it's not real. I mean no disrespect to any of the members.The stroy is fictional it's doesn't have anything to do with the real life members of bts.

The preparation for the journey to the palace is started by the butlers and attendents of the three princes, they will travel in the morning when the first sunlight hits the ground. The horse are feed and royal cravens are polished and stainless, everything is ready to embark on the journey.

the most important people who should be sleeping on their large soft bed with silk blankets and pillows to grand them the most comfortable sleep sits around the table with only few lamps lit to illuminate the chamber they are in.

one prince voice echoes through the room softly, his low voice only heard by his brothers who sits listening to the one that's speaking, they nod and exchange their words occasionally frowns and scrowls and smirks adorned their face.

"Well, we are future of our kingdom, let's see who wins the war."

Being a maid is was not hard , there are long hallways that need to be mopped , mountain of dishes and utensils that need to washed without damaging a single one, the fine fabric that need to be washed and fragranced without letting a small detail of stone or printed fabric to be damaged, marble floor that needed to shine dusting the sculptures and paintings that the royal family gifted by the other kingdoms and noble family was it all tiresome well you are in no Position to complain when they genuirously given you a place in the place, food and warm bed to sleep and a new friend that helped you throughout the daily task.

Emma is kind and timid just like you she doesn't prey into your life not even when the girls from your town send amusing condescending glance when they catch the glimpse of you walking through the hallway. Emma did not indulge in the matter nor did she change the way she approached you, she still regarded you as companion as the day went by.

she sat next you when it was time for to eat in the afternoon, sat with you while waiting for the next chore to be done. you realised that she is kind and genuine but she also held undeniable sadness in her eyes, her eyes miss the shine, when you come to think of most of the servents does seems to carry some sadness and pain in their eyes, the smile that she gives never felt wholesome it was tainted with sorrow that you didn't understand. she tried to hide it but it always showed it's clear that she does not want to share her pain and suffering that caused her eyes to be so dull. it's is never a good thing to push people to share their pain and considering that you and her only known for few hours, pursuing her to share her agony does not seem ideal so you choose to silently sit beside letting her know that you're here.

It was closer to midnight when the two you finished the chores having your meal of the night, the buzzling kitchen is silent with few chief chopping up meat and vegetables for the next morning. the of two you sit on the table eating what you where given, the vegetable broth has gone cold and you're sure that Emma's broth would be colder if she doesn't start her eating soon.

you wonder if hoseok had eaten his meal.

she gazed out the window, looking at the full moon that hang in the night sky her shoulders slumped hands fold in her lap her food long forgotten she seem lost, her eyes held unknown pain they were haunted by something that you don't know, the color of her skin remained of dead flower petals waiting for a strong wind to swept away. the world around her doesn't seem to interest her anymore you doubt it didn't in the past, maybe you don't know, tears fall down her cheeks they shine in moonlight, you don't know the reason why it is. the warmth of her tears seems to bring her back to her reality as she quickly wipe away hands clenching the spoon yet not eating you don't know the reasons at all, you reach out and wrap your hands around her empty one that lay limply in the table squeezing it gently.

Emma doesn't look up, she does not want you see her face though she knew you already witnessed her tears falling down but she is thankful that you didn't push her to confide in you. she squeezed back your hand an gesture that she hopes it convey the message that she appreciates your kindness and she finally bring her spoonful of broth to her mouth.

the two of you walk together to maid quarter after finishing up the meal, there is no exchange of words as the two of your reach the room and starts to getting ready for sleep, the moonlight shine down to the room through the window illuminating just enough that you both move around without need to lit the lamp.

"Sleep well Emma" you offer her smile before getting under the cover.

you glance at the moon and wonder if hoseok is sleeping well in his own warm bed.

Emma sit on her bed her gaze now shifting from the moon to your frame, sleeping under the sheets. A downcast look on her face because she is you in evey sense and she worried for what might happen to you though the two of you just meet she doesn't want anything happens to you does not want you or anyone go through what she and her lost friend gone through. her sadness is not for what had happened but rather but about be happen.

hoseok sigh loudly as he fall in bed his limbs aches from the training and sparing he did with others, he can feel his muscles twitching now and then something in his body is acheing one after another his plate is empty the bone of meat is only thing that left beside him.

"you hold up well for someone who has never been agile" yoongi comments watching hoseok his hair still damp.

jimin and jungkook sits on their bed after the training they all had gone shower, hoseok had begged them to swim in the ocean though the three knight were reluctant at first they agreed.

"yeah, i didn't know you had that much stamina in you" jungkook cheers before biting down the meat with a hum.

"Well there is lot a thing that you have yet discover about me kid" he rebuts

"So, are you adjustinghere well?" jimin asks

hoseok thinks for a minute as he prop himself up on his elbow looking at the three knight "Well, I cannot complain can I ?"

"No, you cannot" yoongi answers making hoseok scoff at that, jungkook and jimin laugh silently at hoseok giving yoongi a dirty look.

hoseok stands up and glance through the window and gather his tray of his plates and jimin's and yoongi without saying anything.

hoseok even take jungkook meat that he's biting into and out in the plate dismissing the youngest knight's displeased groan muffled by his mouthful.

yoongi sigh at male's action alredy knowing where it is leading to.

"There is no need for that. someone will come and collect it all. "

hoseok shrugs " l don't mind, I can do it just show me the way to kitchen." he swats at jungkook hands that sneakily trying to reach for the meat pouting when his hands get slapped by the elder man. jimin find this whole ordeal funny as he laughs away.

"They might be still working hoseok" yoongi said leaning back in his chair.

hoseok gasp "but when does she sleeps then.?"

"Maybe be after midnight or something."

"But don't they have wake up early as well?" hoseok frown is evident on his face looking glummer when jimin and yoongi nod at the his words.

Just then a knock on their door takes away their attention a maid comes in her head hang low as she walks in after yoongi nod in approval walking towards hoseok to take the plates hoseok mask his dispointment letting the maid take the plates away from him.

hoseok stagger towards his bed lazily crawling on before laying down.

"she is maid hoseok, they are expected do all work, they are brought to work here." yoongi says looking at hoseok.

"I know tha, but that does not mean they should be worked to death. " hoseok grumble not liking that while he had warm food and warm bed to sleep while you would be scrubbing the floor or washing giant pots and plates.

hoseok props himself up on elbows suddenly "I am curious why the people of kingdown seems so dull compared to our village. why is that? "

the three knights share a glance with eachother " the royal family only has the privilege to wear colour here, your town people were blissfully unaware of it since you people were deep in the woods and never tried to enter the kings region. " yoongi answers.

"sounds like a pure absurdity to me" hoseok ponder without a fear.

jimin give him mischievous smile " be careful what you say, hoseok that might just get you killed."

jungkook nod with a serious look on his face "do not go around expressing yourself, with us it's one thing but with other it might not end well. "

hoseok shrugs waving of their concerns " Do you believe the sole purpose I came here for to be a knight."

yoongi " No we do not, jungkook might not know but me and jimin do" jungkook frown at yoongi's words while jimin smile at his sulking pout. "But there is no harm in being respectful to royal family." he adds.

hoseok eyes fixed on yoongi as he observes him with furrowed brow " Why does it feels like you are hinting something else." jimin and jungkook face fall an unreadable look looms over their face.

make no mistake while hoseok might appear like gentle kind men who sees good in everyone and everything, welcoming everyone with warm smile he knows the world is not happy place and that it is far from perfect, he mastered the art to reading people like an open book.

He knows that people are far from the perfection they like to portray themselves to be, he saw it himself growing up. how people who appeared to be kind and welcoming turns cold and judgmental with their dirty looks and condescending words. how their quick to cast one to be unworthy of their kindness and basic human decorum because one does not meet their expectations and standard forgetting that human are different in every aspect of their life.

He seen how the towns people treated you and your father as foregine species, whispering their fabricated falsehood about the two of you just because of your father refused to live by their ordinance.

the moment he stepped inside the Kingdom territory he felt unsettling shiver all over his body, while his town and his people stands as orginaism that imperfect he felt like he was walking among corpse, the tower of the kingdom felt like gates of hell and people resembled the look of tortured and suffered souls.

His suspicion is only increased when he saw few maids who walks past knight's quarter and sparing arena who looked like scared swans cautiously moving around as if they would get strike by an arrow unexpectedly, hurried to get their chores done and run away to their safe heaven.

Hoseok lay back looking at ceiling "I do respect the royal family and I will do my duty as knight with honor.. "

"I sense a nonetheless " hoseok glance at yoongi and held his gaze, yoongi's hair strands doesn't hide his burning orbs but hoseok does not seems to falter.

"My loyalty lies with her, it always has been and it will be" hoseok said without hesitation or fear.

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[sunnycanvas]

Hi! May I please request Headcanons for Kingdom of Heaven where female reader was Baldwin's wife and after his death Salah ad Din seized his kingdom and married his wife? Thank you ❤️

Dear Y/N,

By the time you will be reading this letter I will be already dead. I just wanted to ask you to find and marry a good man as quickly as possible. I wish I could find someone myself but I was selfish enough to keep you to myself as long I lived. Now I sit in Jerusalem waiting my death and regretting my life choices. Please don't mourn for me so long. I am glad God gave the opportunity for us too meet. You were an angel sent to me in disguise. Remember me as I was and please forgive me in case I did hurt you

Your Beloved

Baldwin IV

King of Jerusalem

Tears rolled down my eyes as I read the letter again and again. Remembering how I gave my farewell to my beloved husband before he died

I remember him telling me not to open this letter until he is dead. My husband was so weak I could recall he had trouble talking to me. We held each other's hand for each others comfort. I remember tears streaming down my eyes as my husband gently squeezed my hand to reassure me. Slowly I watched life getting drained out of his body.

I lost much interest in the kingdom. Despite Baldwin's loyalist attempting to help me. I refused saying that I was still mourning. "Who would touch leper's wife" I heard gossips. The story went on as Sybilla my sister in law disrespected my husband's wishes and married guy de luisagnan. I watched the kingdom slowly crumble under their leadership with Tiberias going and settling in Cypress.

I was by the window as I watched surrender of kingdom of Jerusalem. I could tell by the talk of Balian and Salahuddin. That they had agreed of surrender of Jerusalem in peaceful terms. Tears rolled down my eyes realising that the only thing I had which reminded me of my husband. That too will snatched. I couldn't help but cry wondering what Baldwin IV would have thought of if he was able to see from heaven his kingdom for whom he worked so hard for getting surrendered.

"Jerusalem is forever lost from Christians" I whispered. Just then there was a knock on the door. I was confused as I turned around and saw a nobleman. "Your grace" he pressed his lips before continuing. "There is something I want to say to you".

"I have to marry Salahuddin" I was shocked. "The greatest enemy of my late husband who snatched the kingdom" "Only last thing which served as a reminder of my husband" "You wish for me to marry him". I screamed in anger with tears rolling down my eyes at the nobleman. The noble man sighed knowing that this was going to be a difficult conversation. He continued saying "Salahuddin said those people who wished not to be enslaved have to buy their own freedom" "Of course there were negotiations and there was final price which was agreed on but there were still some people who couldn't buy their freedom" "Balian and Patriach Hercules offered themselves for the women and children who will be enslaved but Salahuddin refused". I realised in horror what was going to happen to enslaved women and children. I suddenly felt bad that I didn't do anything for the kingdom my husband worked so hard to protect. The noble man seeing my expression of horror had glimmer of hope before continuing "However Salahuddin said there could be an exception where he is willing to buy freedom of enslaved women and children. I looked up to him realising where this conversation was going "That is if I marry him" He smiled in acknowledgement before saying "Correct my lady". I looked outside the window as I saw poor men, women and children being dragged outside. Men, women and children were seperated. I watched as I saw the women being sold off to soldiers who I could tell had sadistic smiles on their face. I knew what they were thinking

"I will go" I said with renowned determination. "I will marry him"

"Atleast I could do this much for the kingdom my husband tried so hard to protect". I thought sadly remembering my late husband.

"Your majesty Lady (Y/N) is here". Salahuddin and Balian both turned their heads at the sound of my name. I slowly got out of carriage which was carrying me. I could tell Balian looked at me in pity while Salahuddin had neutral expression in his face.

"Salam Walikum"

"Walihun Salam"

Salahuddin greeted back. " Let's discuss this matter further inside my tent". I could hear people around me gossiping as I was lead inside his tent

He quietly ate as he watched me. As if trying to read my intentions. "Please eat something"

"No, thank you" I replied in anger.

"You must be wondering why I asked you to marry in exchange for enslaved women and children"

I looked at him confused as he smiled at me. "It was easy to tell". "Truth be told I always admire-no loved you" "You were mocked and made fun of in my kingdom for marrying a leper" "Truthfully I too was curious on what kind of woman who would wish to marry a leper" "When I first met you I couldn't help but admire your wit, charm and beauty" "My admiration slowly turned to love" "It seems like every body knew except you" "That's why your husband grew agitated whenever he heard my name and hated you accompanying him to war for the fear that you would leave him for me"

Suddenly realisation dawned on me that Baldwin IV did look like he harboured a personal grudge against Salahuddin. He would reluctantly allow me to accompany him to war but with lots of restrictions. "I thought that was because you were both rivals" I replied shocked. Salahuddin smiled gently as if sad.

"I am only here for the protection of people." "If I marry you, you will let go of enslaved women and children"

"I know, I could tell"

"I heard about your wives, I don't know about others but I do know name of one Ismat ad-Din khutan" "Which means I will be one of several wives"

Salahuddin grew quite and I sighed defeated for my new life

"How do I trust your word, didn't Christian butchered everyone when they captured Jerusalem"

"I am not those men" Salahuddin replied as if insulted

"I am Salahuddin"

"What is Jerusalem worth?" I asked confused

"Nothing" He replied

"Everything" He replied again

[tumblingdownthefoxden]

“The Assistant and The Star”

Chapter 3: Preparations

*Part 1

*2 hours later

"Who's there?" Demanded the boy named Safi. "I know someone is in here."

"Hello fair one." A voice replied in a smooth tone. "What is your rank?"

Safi set down his mop. "Where are you? Show yourself."

"Why don't you come this way and find me?" It teased. "I'm closer than you think. Right under your nose. Or should I say, your feet?" The voice chuckled at it's own joke. Safi huffed.

"Do not jest with me! Show yourself!"

"Oh, I won't do that just yet. But come and uncover my whereabouts!" It beamed. Safi stayed where he was. The last time he followed a voice trying to lure him deeper in the library, some rascal pranksters dumped a bucket of dust all over him. His allergies nearly killed him that day!

"If you won't tell me where you are, then tell me your name please."

"I am what I am." It answered. "But do tell me, what is your rank? Are you the King?"

Safi frowned. "No, I'm not. You don't need know my rank! Tell me your name please."

"Oh no, I'd rather not. Are you close with the King?"

"What even is your business here?" He demanded.

"Watch your tone." The voice gently chastised. "Such ill manner speak is unbefitting for a noble setting."

Safi mopped the floor in front of him. "And yet, you interrupt my work to ask about my position without properly introducing yourself. Actually. Talking to you isn't worth my time."

"You are testing my patience." It groveled. "Are you close to the King? Can you at least bring him to me today?"

"And what is your business with-?"

"No more questions." It intruded. "Tell the King to make my acquaintance and come to the library so that we may converse today. Now."

Safi put a finger to his cheek and looked to the side in an exaggerated wondering look. "Hmmmmmmm. Still rather vague. I haven't seen you and I don't know your real name so I can't say who is calling for the King's presence. Given my schedule, I might not have time to talk to him today." He sucked his teeth. "Not to mention that you have no respectable dignity. You want me to tell the King to see you today? Not even consider if he's as busy as me? Without even saying please? Even if I did manage to summon the King here, he has little patience for those who disrespect his associates." He began to walk away. "You're not worth the trouble. Sorry شخص غريب."

The library was dead silent after his remark. Safi dipped his mop in and out of the water bucket when the voice returned. "If you shall not help me, then leave my presence." It hissed.

Safi turned towards its direction. "I'm not finished cleaning."

"Get out." It demanded. The force of the sound vibrated the water in the bucket. Safi frowned. He's encountered arrogant nobleman before but none of them had an affliction in their voice such as this.

"Such ill manner speak is unbefitting of a noble setting." He recited, picking up the bucket. Maybe this was another magic nobleman?

"Get. Out." The voice repeated. It was softer but something about the voice was off. It's tone was venomous and the vocals sounded... accursed.

Safi reflected on their conversation and he got an idea for why this voice wouldn't share its name or show its face. Safi backed away and grabbed his other cleaning bucket in case he really did need to leave after asking this question. "Are you even a human being?"

"GET OUT!"

The boom in the voice shook the entire library floor. Several books fell from the bookshelves and Safi knees buckled as the sound shook his very bones. Only the upright mop kept him from falling. He looked ahead from him to the center library space and his face moved from shock to horror as he noticed a tile from of the floor. A green light was emitted from the edges of the tile. As quickly as he'd seen it, it vanished. Not willing to find out anything else, he stood upright and rushed out of the library, shutting the doors behind him with a gentle ~click~.

After a quick trip to throw away the mop water, Safi made his way to the castle storage closet where he simply set down the buckets and mop inside. Safi proceeded to fall against the door and release a heavy sigh.. As if the day hadn't been exhausting enough, there was, indeed, a thing in the library. He heard a rumor from the other cleaners that the Grand Library was haunted. If you went deep into the library, you could hear a voice. And because of that, the cleaners rarely did the whole library. Safi didn't consider himself much of a skeptic. He wouldn't deny that ghosts or spirits were real, but Safi rarely cleaned the library thanks to the dust bunnies that would ambush his senses if he wasn't careful. However, he hated how the other cleaners left most of the library to accumulate so much dust because of the rumor. Only today did he hear the infamous haunting but what was he to do about it? The other cleaners tried to report the haunting but whenever the guards investigated it, they found nothing to convince them that the haunting was true or could be dealt with.

You know what. Maybe he should leave the Library for another day. He cleaned half of it and it was last thing left to clean anyway.

A/N: Making this into 2 parts because Tumblr will only allow 10 pictures on a post and I need gifs for the rest of the chapter. Comics should not be this hard to make.

Here's a first look at a "new" character but the interaction I planned went sideways. I wanted Safi to find the voice and accidentally offend it but now he's deliberately offending it? Honestly, I like it better but why are you sassy now?!

Also, the Arabic text translates to "stranger", for those wondering.

@annymation @signed-sapphire @wings-of-sapphire @chillwildwave @uva124 @rascalentertainments @emillyverse @flicklikesstuff @mythartist21 @oh-shtars

[amybizarre]

Nightmare's Backstory P4

When the Darkness took over, Nightmare's eyes changed (the sclera turned black). The effect would disappear again, when Nightmare regains control.

When Nightmare regained his senses, there was a bloodbath around him. His body was sore and bruised. He had won, but at what price?

From the initial five Red Steves he fought there were only four bodies on the ground. One was missing. Did he escape? Or did Nightmare literally evaporate him? He wouldn't know until later.

Shortly after his squad arrived at the scene, awakened by the commotion and alarmed by the flashes of a fight in the woods. They ask him what happened, to which he tells them part of the truth. He just changed the details of who started the fight. His comrades, Conny especially, ask him how he won and how he's not dead. This time Nightmare has to answer with a lie. He doesn't feel well about it.

Of course they notice the missing Red Steve, so Nightmare and his squad search for him for a while. But they can't find a trace.

His squad said they should give the fallen soldiers a proper burial. Nightmare begrudgingly agrees, but doesn't feel like digging. So they opt to burn the bodies instead.

Conny has trouble lighting the fire, so Nightmare secretly lights it with a spark, making it look like Conny managed it.

The next day Nightmare writes a report to his commander about the incident. In response the commander reinforces their outpost with more troops and a higher up.

The new marshal however is an absolute ass. A young noble, who newly got promoted into this rank. He treats Nightmare, who until this point has been met with respect by his comrades, like just another annoying recruit.

The new marshal, let's call him Zayes, doesn't like that Nightmare tries to incorporate himself into the organization of the troops. Nightmare is just trying to think along and help the marshal out at first, to show that he's a smart and capable soldier. But in Zayes’ eyes he's just disrespectful and questioning him all the time. He behaves rather immaturely because of this and always gives Nightmare the worst chores and most work, while also ignoring any input Nightmare gives, even if it is something smart. Yeah, they both hate each other's guts.

[softlysilverfountainsfall]

There is an oft-repeated scene in the Silm when one of Our Heroes has died fighting a noble but hopeless battle that they chose, and someone, somehow buries them properly AND it is specifically mentioned in the text that the grave lay undisturbed until some far future date (usually the breaking of Beleriand).

This happens to Finrod, to Fingolfin (though his grave was only undisturbed until Gondolin fell), and Glorfindel. For other dead characters, this precise formula does not occur.

(Beren and Luthien die natural mortal deaths and no one knows where they are buried, Feanor spontaneously combusts and none of his sons' burials are ever mentioned, and Turgon dies & is presumably "buried" in the collapse of his tower. Hurin, Morwen, and Nienor aren't buried [edit: Morwen was buried]; Finduilas and Turin are buried but it is not specifically mentioned that their graves were undisturbed afterwards. Barahir is buried by Beren but it isn't specifically mentioned that his grave was inviolate. Aredhel's grave isn't mentioned, neither is Thingol's, Dior's, or Nimloth's. Aegnor, Angrod, Orodreth, and Gwindor die in battle against the enemy but in a battle that came to them (Bragollach and of Nargothrond respectively) and was one they had to fight, not a hopeless battle that they chose and their graves' aren't mentioned.)

You will notice that I have not mentioned Fingon, who was famously "beat[en] into the dust with their maces...they trod [his banner] into the mire of his blood," or any who died in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad and were dumped in a pile by Morgoth's forces to create the Hill of the Slain/Haudh-en-Ndengin/Hill of Tears/Haudh-en-Nirnaeth.

The Nirnaeth is, of course, the ultimate noble but hopeless battle, and Fingon especially typifies that. (Relatedly, Azahgal's body is successfully borne away by his troops, presumably for a long-lasting burial place.) The Hill of the Slain is meant to be a symbol of Morgoth's power and a place of dreadful carnage and disrespect for those who fell and should break my argument--

But in one sentence Tolkien turns all that around:

"But grass came there and grew again long and green upon that hill, alone in all the desert Morgoth made; and no creature of Morgoth trod thereafter upon the earth beneath which the swords of the Eldar and the Edain crumbled into rust"

--and the symbol of Morgoth's total victory becomes a sacred, untouched grave of heroes.