#doom head x ofc

[slxsherwriter]

Write by the Moon

Fandom: The Gates, 31, A Good Day For It

Pairing: William Colcott x Selina (OC), Doom-Head x OFC, Norman Tyrus x OFC

Word Count: 6,416

Warnings: Demonic rituals, murder, killing

Author's note: This is part one of my reincarnation/soulmate AU fic featuring three Richard Brake characters. Not Beta read as always, so any mistakes are my own. This part will cover William and Selina. As his wife isn't alive in the movie, I decided to treat her as an OC. It is set up to show snippets of their life and the other parts will follow suit. Hope everyone enjoys.

The bar was busy, as it often was on a Saturday evening. Men and women, both reputable and dishonest, mingled about, sharing drink and food. Sheep in a herd, begging to be culled. William Colcott was that wolf in sheep's clothing. Setted at the bar, he was patiently biding his time, looking for the latest victim to satiate that spiraling darkness that resided within. The one that had been cultivated at a young age and had become an ever looming presence throughout his life. Long ago, he had learned that it was far better to give in and indulge in the need. It was what he was good at, even if no one seemed to suspect a thing. After all, the first kill had extinguished the idea of finding his soulmate. Who could be bound to a dark soul like his? Foolish ideas were given up, the mark on his chest ignored for years. 

As he observed the room around him, however, that self-imposed denial came to a rushed end. A slow but steady warmth began to bloom. Deep within and across his skin. The sort that brought about a long forgotten sense of comfort. The sort that had briefly been had when he was a young child, sitting in his mother's lap, listening to her read him stories of King Arthur and the knights of the round table. Was it possible? 

Fingers unconsciously tightened against the handle of his mug, breath stuttering as there was just a moment where he lost himself in the feeling. Indulging in what he had thought he would never be privileged to have. Reality came crashing back after a moment, William gaining his breath back and eyes now almost wildly darting around the room. Desperation never suited any inch of his life but that was what gripped his heart. She couldn't escape and she had to know that he was here. But where? 

A grin, open and free, came to his features unconsciously when his eyes landed on her. Ah, there she was. Far too pretty to be a victim, though such things had hardly proven a matter of concern before that very moment. There didn't seem to be anyone that was accompanying her, leaving an opportunity for him to ensure that she knew right where she belonged. Taking a final pull of the mug, he set it down on the counter before picking his way through the crowd of bodies that now meant absolutely nothing to William. 

"Is this seat taken?" He asked as he leaned down just a little bit, not wanting to shout over the voices of the others. When she looked up at him, he just knew that she felt it too. The way that her eyes dilated, the barely audible gasp that escaped her lips. The warmth only grew now that he was in such a close proximity. There was something else, though, something that he couldn't put his finger on as he looked at the woman. It took her no time to compose herself, though, as if the slip-up had never happened before she smiled at him. 

"I supposed it is now." It was all the invitation that he needed, sliding right into the chair before anyone had the chance to interrupt them. His first thought this close up was that the color of her eyes couldn't quite be deciphered. They seemed to shift subtly each time the light hit them differently. He immediately waved over one of the barmaids to grab her attention. He allowed her to order first before getting himself a second drink. He might as well enjoy himself since this was where he was keeping himself until she was done with the evening. 

To sort out the chaos that was ruling his mind in the moment was impossible. A million thoughts were flooding in all at once, leaving him unsure where to even begin. 

"Perhaps we should start with the easy things before moving onto the elephant in the room." Her voice broke William out of his self-induced haze, and he chuckled softly.  

"Forgive me," he said, "It seems that I am perhaps a little more ill-prepared than anticipated." The light sound of amusement couldn't be missed over the noise that surrounded them, even when it should have been drowned out. Hypervigilant to every reaction, that was what it was. 

"Hardly something that can one can be faulted for. After all, it has turned into a rather unexpected evening, wouldn't you agree?"

"Unexpected but far more pleasant than I had hoped." Briefly, he wondered where her mark was. The thought that instantly followed was that if it was settled in a private location, he didn't want anyone else in the bar seeing it, knowing where it graced her body. That was for him and him alone. All in due time. They hadn't even exchanged names, but the tangible tension would see it's conclusion. There was no doubt in any ounce of his being. Holding out his hand for the woman, he decided that they needed to quickly remedy the first problem at hand. "The name's William." Never before had he desired to meet whatever expectations from an appraisal that another had given, but as her eyes trailed over his face, William wanted nothing more than to meet them for her. 

"It's a pleasure, William," she offered in return, placing her hand in his. Bringing it to his lips before she could retract it, lips brushed over the knuckles. There was a hint of something burnt lingering on her skin. One that he couldn't place but hardly mattered. "Selina." Ah, a fitting name. However, it was not the only thing that he wished to learn about her. 

"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman." Another laugh, and there was a lightness in his chest, as if it was easier to breathe, easier to simply exist by the sound alone. There wasn't any resentment for the way that she was making him feel. William knew that there were things that would have to be sorted out, that complications would arise once that darkness crept back in, but for now, he would embrace the light that she brought. 

"Quite the charmer, aren't you? Drinks, compliments, if I didn't know better, I would say that you were looking to get me alone." Oh, she was almost perfect. He liked a little sass and feistiness in his women. 

"Now, that just wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me, would it? Hardly befitting the situation." 

"Of course, silly me to think such things." He braced his elbows against the table and leaned in. The wood still separated them, but William wanted to close that gap. Needed to in all reality. The compulsion was far too strong to be overcome and ignored. The banter had eased his mind and loosened his tongue. 

"A complaint wouldn't pass my lips if that was how the night were to end." In response, she leaned in. The action wasn't what was anticipated, but he rolled with it, taking it as a positive sign that they were falling onto the same page. "Does it feel the same for you? A pleasant warmth that you could sink into and never let go?" Curiosity got the better of him, and the question slipped. It was far more vulnerable and open than what the man was used to being, though he supposed that was something that would come with the territory of getting to not only know but have this woman as a constant in his life. 

Plenty of people were open about the subject of soulmates. What was felt, what was thought, how their life seemed to switch around in unexpected but not unwelcome manners. William wouldn't give up his life's work or activities just for Selina. But something in his gut told him that he wouldn't have to abandon it all. Something that would be proven true or false with a further exploration. 

"It's a softness," she started and William couldn't tear his attention away. The bar could have been burning around them and it wouldn't have mattered if she still spoke. "A gentle warmth that seems to emanate from my very soul itself. A warmth of comfort and safety." It seemed she had been just as taken if that honest answer was anything to do by and he was thrilled. Safety. That stuck in his mind like a spoke in mud. She would always be safe from him, from the darkness. Nor would anyone dare lay a hand on her. 

****************************************

Selina had impressed the importance of this onto William several times over the last week. He was to be quiet and simply observe. If he spoke anything, he could risk the integrity of the ritual. Among other dangers. He took it seriously since she seemed so invested and dead set on making him understand, both the dangers and what she did.

Having never been a particularly religious man, William had at first thought that her insistence was cute but nothing more than superstition and foolish belief. Still, there was something in her being that drew him in, more than just the fact that they were soulmates. As if there was recognition of a darkness that matched his own. 

What harm would it come to humor her and see what this was all about himself? William had finally agreed to watch a ritual, putting forward effort to understand this part of her life. It was incredibly important to her and a part that she hadn't wanted to keep hidden forever. 

Standing in the corner of the room, he made sure that he was entirely out of the way as she settled a few more things at the table. Some herbs that weren't recognized, a candle that was halfway melted down already, an old copper bowl, and a knife. One that William could appreciate as the dimmed lights in the kitchen of their home caught the edge just right. There was a question that sat burning on the tip of his tongue, but he had sworn that he would remain silent until she gave the signal that it was okay to speak once more. Attention shifted off of the items that had been laid out to the woman herself. That something that he hadn't been able to fully understand hung heavier in the air, as if it was a physical presence in the room. Something besides just the two of them. A silly notion. But not one that he didn't so easily brush aside this time.

A further draw to her very being. Almost like he was seeing Selina for the first time all over again. A sense of awe that was so absent from every other aspect of his life. She settled at the table now that everything was laid out. Silence reigned for several long seconds. Patience was thin at the best of times, but he forced himself to not fidget or speak a word. 

Then, after what felt like hours, Selina was finally moving once more. William watched as she moved with a practiced ease, the same sort that he had when he was out with a victim. It spoke of years going through the same motions, guided by muscles that had long ago memorized just how and when to move. Some of the herbs were placed into the bowl whole, others crushed, others burned. The candle was lit. Movements told him that she was letting the melted wax fall to the table in cruiated patterns before a small amount of wax was poured over the mixture before being placed carefully, deliberately to the left. William had to bite the inside of his cheek as he watched her bring the blade up. She wasn't going to do what he thought she was?

Her palm opened easily, cleanly. The knife was sharp. Yet, she didn't make a sound. His eyes never left the clenched fist as she held it over the bowl, though now, she was muttering something. Words that he either couldn't entirely make out or understand. William wasn't sure which it was at that very moment. 

In seconds, none of that mattered. The temperature of the room dropped significantly and immediately. Hairs stood on the back of his neck, his stomach rolling as bile rose in his throat. A reaction that wasn't expected but uncontrollable. Selina was relaxed as ever in her seat. A smile sat on her lips, one that could barely be seen from the angle that William was at though he could tell it was there. That sense of a physical presence grew. The animalistic primal part of his brain screamed danger, instinct demanding that he slither further back into the shadows. There was nowhere to go, though, his back solidly against the wall behind him. Moving meant disruption, and that was simply not an option. Something was happening here that he didn't understand, but Selina appeared perfectly in control. Ruining that could mean harm to her. An unacceptable consequence of any movement on his end. So, William stayed as stock still as he could, as if he was simply waiting for a victim to pass in front of him.

Then, there was movement. Not from either of them. A shimmer of the shadows, something that caught the very periphery of his vision. It slithered away, vanishing as he blinked. Blood rushed by his ears, the sound near overwhelming as suddenly that darkness seemed to form right in front of Selina. His heart clenched, skipping a single beat as the expectations of violence soared. 

It was with tremendous effort that William remained glued to his spot, the echoes of her voice reminding him that any movement or interference bred more trouble. Selina wasn't cowering or attempting to move away. That subtle smile remained across her face before her head tipped forward in a small greeting. Lips were moving, but he could not hear what words were being exchanged, as if there was some invisible wall between them, blocking out all and any sound. The darkness never took on more of a form than a black, hazy block in the air, at least to him.

So much for not believing in any of this. Before his very eyes was proof that another world existed. One that Selina was intimately familiar with and of which she possessed extensive knowledge. An apology was in due order. Once everything was finished and it was safe once more to speak. 

The entire thing lasted about fifteen minutes. Gradually, warmth seeped back into the room, and light seemed to brighten. Blinking, William was able to break away from the wall, moving to the table where Selina was now cleaning everything up. No words were exchanged right away, not as he sat down and ran a hand over his face. Where was the best place to start? Safety. Not his but hers. That was a priority for him. He had to know that when she did this, she would remain safe. Often enough, it happened when he wasn't around, which was fine with him. What could he really do anyway? Against spirits and demons, his knife was likely useless. She remained silent, allowing him to take that time to gather his thoughts and form a proper sentence.

"I take it as long as you aren't interrupted, then these are rather safe rituals for you?" Her eyes brightened, the smile he was granted as bright as the morning sun. 

"This is one that I have been performing for years and have built a rather comfortable rapport with the being that you saw. Now, I am not foolish enough to believe that I can control him. But I do know that it is far better to have an offer ready and keep him satisfied with respect and sacrifice than anything else. So yes, that one in particular I would say is safe." That left plenty of room for interpretation, William wasn't blind to the way that she had answered but worked around the question at the same time. If she felt confident enough, then he would have to take her word for it. 

"And there are others?" 

"Rituals or beings? Either way, the answer is many." Selina reached out, her hand settling over his and giving a small squeeze. A reassurance in a way and a grounding attempt. "I have a few I tend to stick with. It's just…easier that way." William felt that there was something else that she wanted to add on at the end but opted to leave it be. Remembering something, he reached for the hand that she was keeping close to her being and turned it over. The slice across her palm wasn't deep but it would need to be wrapped to stave off any chance of infection.

"Let's get that wrapped, love." The task was a settling enough motion that he was able to get himself back to a composed state, thinking through everything that he had seen and what its implications meant for their feature. It seemed that he would have some learning to do over the next few weeks. 

*************************************

Looking into the mirror, the unfamiliar jitters of nerves were beginning to become rather annoying. William wasn't sure what the source of such an unusual feeling was, but it didn't seem to want to stop. There was a deep refusal to believe that it was stemming from the fact that today would be the day that he and Selina married. No, it certainly could have nothing to do with that. There was simply nothing for him to be nervous about when it came to the event. Still, as the blue of his eyes stared back out at him from the glass, there was little other reason for it to be present. 

He and Selina were soulmates. A thought that caused his hand to rise unconsciously, fingers lightly pressing over the mark that was over his heart. She wouldn't abandon him now. There would be no cold feet, nothing to stop them from making it official in the eyes of the government. 

The two had been living together for almost a year now, having been together since that fateful night in the bar nearly three years ago. They were tailored for each other, slotting into the routines and patterns of life seamlessly. The sort of actions that many others wished that they could have and held jealousy over. William counted himself lucky for having found her at all but in a way blessed by some sort of being out there that they fit together so perfectly. Not God, no. He had no bearing here. Maybe one of those beings that Selina often spoke to or dealt with indirectly. That was a far more feasible explanation. 

William found himself chuckling and swiping a hand through his hair one last time. It was foolish to waste another second standing in front of the mirror and overthinking things. They had to be at the courthouse on time or risked having the entire thing pushed off to another day. That would leave the woman simmering and scowling for the entire night. A mood that he did not want to have to navigate. 

A simple ceremony had been decided long ago. Neither had family to be concerned with when it came to the union. They were left to decide what they wanted and how they wanted it. The agreement had come easy. He nor Selina had felt all that comfortable with the idea of being married in a church. For a multitude of reasons, with her practices being ranked rather high on the list. Besides, what was the point in having to give money to such an institution when it was just the two of them? It would bring up questions or sympathies that they didn't have the patience or tolerance to handle. Which left getting a civil marriage. The most important part was legal recognition anyway. They had been married in all but name since they had found one another. 

William moved towards the front door, hearing movement upstairs. Selina was still getting ready. It was a good thing that she hadn't been waiting on him. He was only waiting a few minutes before she made her way down the stairs.

"Radiant as ever, my love." The compliment fell naturally from his lips and as always, he was granted that warm smile that lit up her entire face. 

"Forever the charmer, even on the day of your wedding." He chuckled and wrapped an arm around her once she was close enough, using the leverage to draw her body closer yet to his. A gentle kiss was pressed to her forehead. The only one alive, in existence, to experience this side of him. Or, the one that this side only existed for, came alive for was more likely. 

"Cannot go failing my duties now." As she relaxed against him, William ran his fingers lightly over her left shoulder blade, where her mark was hidden beneath the gorgeous blue dress she had chosen. The action was almost instinctual at this point, having been repeated over and over until he could have found it and traced it with his eyes closed. "Come on, we have a carriage waiting." He had to pull away first, a smile saved her and her alone present as one more kiss was dropped to her head. 

The carriage ride was relatively quiet, William keeping an eye on the outside world while stealing glances at the woman across from him. His soulmate and soon to be wife. Her presence always brought that pleasant warmth to his chest, but the thought of calling her his in every way possible just made it all the stronger. The little smile that she couldn't seem to wipe off of her face only added to the atmosphere. A look he had placed there, a sense of pride swelling up at the knowledge. For a brief second, he felt like a boy again, having gotten away with stealing a candy bar and riding the high of having the best thing possible. That was what Selina was. The rest of the world hadn't recognized it, and he had stolen her away before anyone could. Destined to be with him, yes, but bound together on such a deeper level. He had made her his. 

The carriage came to a stilted stop outside of the courthouse. Time for the rest of the world to know what he knew. Stepping out, he was quick to turn around and offer his hand, even when she didn't need the help.

“Ready?”

“More than ever.” Pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles, William grinned before leading her into the building. 

**********************************

The shivers wracked his frame, uncontrollable spasms that allowed no rest. It had been that way for hours. Days almost. William had lost track of the time in the fever induced haze, mind skipping in and out of consciousness, but never truly resting. In lucid enough moments, he hated the way that he felt weak and felt useless. He couldn't even get himself out of bed to get to the bathroom. In the non-lucid moments, shadows moved and formed figures, horror that his mind couldn't entirely comprehend appeared and threatened him. 

William coughed violently. The rattle in his chest was worrisome, but Selina couldn't do much more. The medicine from the doctor should have cured his symptoms three days ago. The recent illness sweeping through London has been like a second coming of the plague. Bodies were dropping faster than most could keep up with. Thankfully, it wasn't to the point that they were building up in the streets just yet. Her fingers brushed along his clammy forehead, frowning at the heat still radiating. If the fever didn't break soon, there would be bigger things to worry about. 

She hadn't shown any symptoms yet. A small blessing. If she went down beside him, they might as well call an end to it. Pushing up from beside the bed, she moved to make some tea. It would calm her, and if she could get anything down him, help soothe his throat at the very least. 

Standing in their tiny kitchen, the pot for tea boiling, she let out a slow sigh. If William didn't get better…. As soon as the thought came, she was quick to try and banish it. He hadn't succumbed yet. He wouldn't. Her William was strong and as stubborn as they came. He would make it through this and be back to his normal self. And if not? There were other options. Her eyes strayed to a few of the books that she kept close at hand in the kitchen for when rituals needed to be performed. Death could not part them. She just hoped it wouldn't come to that so soon. 

Selina was pulled from the dark path of her thoughts when the kettle whistled. Making up two cups, the action was soothing. A routine that was familiar amongst the days of unfamiliar motions. Moving back to the room, she was pleased to see him with his eyes open, appearing far more lucid than he had in days. Her chest instantly felt lighter. Though, she wasn't foolish enough to believe that they were out of the woods. 

“It's good to see you awake, love.” She spoke gently. Likely, his head was bothering him given how feverish he had been. And still was. She could see the sweat beading along his brow. “I've made some tea. Do you think you could get some down?” Standing beside the bed, she held it out and watched as shaky hands took the warm cup. She winced at the pained look that came from him at the simple act of taking a sip. Still, it was seeing him do something other than lay there and moan in pain. She wouldn't be picky. Selina reached out and brushed her hands along his forehead, pushing back the sweat soaked hair. William's eyes fluttered closed at the touch, leaning into it. 

“You need more rest.” Not an observation as much as an order that fell from her lips. One that he was in no shape to disobey, and they both knew it. All stemmed from worry. Worry that he wouldn't get better. Worry that he would be taken from her. Worry that some force out there wouldn't allow them to be together, no matter what she tried. 

A low, tired hum was the response given. The man took a few more slow sips of the tea, hands less shaky than they had been when he first reached out. Her husband was a strong, stubborn man. Selina took comfort in that knowledge and seeing a visible improvement. Even if it didn't last all that long. 

“Have you slept at all?” His voice was hoarse, rough from the crying out he had done thanks to his fever dreams. That and lack of use. A gentle smile was given.

“Some. You are my greater concern. I'll sleep once I know you will wake up again.” As devoted as he was to her, she was as equally devoted to him. Her fingers continued the soothing actions against his scalp, hoping to ease him back to sleep. His body needed it, even if he had been barely conscious for three days. Proper rest would help heal him. The rattling in his chest with each breath he took shook her. The sounds were far from the powerful man that she knew. Almost made him sound frail, weak. But, she kept a brave face, not letting on those thoughts. If she gave it, they might come to light. 

William eased back once more. It didn't take long for his eyes to close and his muscles to go slack. Sleep took him under, though this state should be far more restful for him. Hopefully, this lucid moment meant that the fever was going to break soon. 

She watched, feeling fiercely protective over the man in the bed. Not the first in her life. No, she had been that protective over family. However, this may have been the first person, not blood related and certainly the first person in her adult life, that those feelings had appeared. It had taken a little time to get used to, understand, and control them. A little longer than she would have liked, admittedly. A dangerous time. Selina knew what and who she had ties to and the inherent risks that came with that. To herself and others around her. The simple fact that he was her soulmate had been well worth it. She had sensed the darkness that lingered within, the predator just underneath the surface. Drawn to it as much as she was him. Both the bond that fate had woven and the beast within. 

Finishing the tea, Selina let out a small sigh. Her eyes ached. The strain of staying awake for so long was starting to set in. Sleep would soon be unavoidable. The wheezing that came from William was enough to leave her unsettled though, which meant no sleep just yet. The mark on her shoulder felt warm. Not the pleasant warmth that came when they were together. No. More like a fevered warmth. A shared suffering. She shook it off the best that she could without getting too comfortable. A little longer was needed before she could allow herself to rest. At least until his breathing settled into something more aligned with normal. He had been conscious but it wasn't enough of an improvement for her to let her guard down entirely. 

*************************

The evening was cold and damp, rain falling as often was the weather these months. With his jacket pulled tightly around himself, the figure marched through the back alleys, listening, waiting. A predator hiding within the shadows. The nightmare that those among the London streets still feared. His name may not have been known, the press hardly getting their hands on the deeds that were carried out. No, he was far too meticulous for that. As much as the hysterics would be enjoyable to watch. Fame hardly mattered, though, to William. It would have complicated too many things. 

The itch had become too much, and William had needed to go out. Just one kill, and he would be back in the comfortable warmth of their home. It gave Selina time to carry out what she needed to as well, without any worry of being interrupted. 

There was less focus on finding the perfect victim that evening. It simply mattered that his blade was stained red. There had been a sense of complacency and comfort that had settled in after the Ripper killings had stopped. A security that allowed his work to become that much easier. Individuals were emboldened to walk alone in the streets once more. Shortcuts were taken where they had been avoiding any alleyways where light couldn't reach. The perfect combinations of elements that brought his prey right to him rather than him having to stalk anyone and drag them into the shadows without notice. Sure, his killings brought about whispers, and the memory of the Ripper still created that nightmare, but it was not enough for anyone to be able to pay proper attention to what was happening around London.

The kill had come with just a small struggle, the sort that helped keep things interesting without being too much of a hassle. A brief slap across his face and a claw mark made to his wrist before the end had come and the body was dumped. A sigh of satisfaction escaped William as he cleaned his blade against the clothes of his latest victim before stepping back into the shadows and leaving the body hidden among the trash, likely not to be found for several days. After the rats and other vermin had gotten their fill. 

Now that the urge had been quieted, he was looking forward to being home. Spending the remainder of the night, holding his wife close, was the perfect end to the night. His steps were light as he moved through the streets, now among the rest of the population and lights that lined the streets. No one would give a second glance, weather aside. Everyone was in an eager state to get home at the late hour. His shoulders relaxed further when his home came into view, chuckling softly to himself as his pace quickened even further. 

William would have known something was amiss, even if it wasn't for the burning cold that spread out from his soulmark; the lights were off, and Selina's absence from the table in the small kitchen was acutely felt. Eyes wandered around the room, looking for whatever might be out of place, anything that would give him the slightest hint as to where his dear wife was and what had happened. A feeling of dread built from deep within his chest, constricting his lungs and robbing him of his ability to breathe. It was all wrong, and his hand reached for the knife that was kept hidden beside the door, on the off chance that someone was foolish enough to enter their domain. Not the same he used for killing, lest anyone connect the two. Plausible deniability if he used something from the home. 

He could smell the burnt herbs that had been recently used. Selina had done some sort of ritual recently. As planned. That did not give William any sense of comfort as it normally would, not when her smiling face wasn't there to greet him at the door, ensuring that he had not harmed himself. A habit that she had developed early on in their relationship, one that had amused him to now end but had become so ingrained in their lives that it's lacking just heightened that sense of dread. 

The thoughts of a ritual gone wrong flashed across his consciousness but was quickly dismissed. No, Selina was far too practiced and versed to have something go so horribly wrong. Her skills were refined and honed from years of study. She had taught him what to look for as a precaution, and there wasn't a feeling lingering in the air or any sign that it had been such an accident. Something else was at play here. 

Creeping through his own home as he would a victim's, William strained his ears and his eyes for any sign of Selina. Nothing downstairs. The fireplace was dead, not even a hint of embers that would have signaled that she lit it for warmth now that the colder winter months were here. Up the stairs he went, knife at the ready. Still, no sound and the cold was only spreading further, practically invading his lungs with ice. 

As much as he longed to call out her name, it would give away his position. That was when he heard sounds coming from the bedroom. A sound that he knew well enough. Gasped, gurgled breath. No longer could he truly control his actions, rushing forward. The door slammed open, smashing into the wall behind it, causing the man that was straddling his wife with filthy hands enclosed around her neck to jump. Red. It was the only thing that covered his vision as he lunged forward, not giving the man a chance to properly react. Blade met flesh, digging deep into muscle, unforgiving and with a practice precision. His subconscious mind already knew that it was too late, allowing his fury to be unleashed on the man before him. It hardly mattered who he was, or what intentions that he had come to the house with. This waste of a human had stolen his soulmate from him. 

"A wife for a wife," the man below him snarled, the last words that he spoke as William sliced the blade across his throat, not deep enough to cause an instant death. Let the bastard feel what he had done. Panting, he dropped the blade and scrambled for Selina. 

"Selina…" His voice soft, there was a shaky note to it that had never been present before in his life. Pain underlying it all as the ache and agony was setting in. "Please, no…" Gently, he slid one hand under her head while pulling her into his lap, his free hand gently stroking her cheek. The stillness to her body was a clear indication that his worst fears had been realized, that she was truly gone. Curling himself over her form, William let out an agonized sound into the emptiness of the room, heard by no one but himself. Gone. She was gone. 

He had allowed himself to grieve, to cry and feel that nearly all consuming sorrow for no longer than a few minutes. The ice from his soulmark kept him grounded in reality, in the knowledge that she was gone. But that didn't mean that she was lost to him forever. The thought nagged the back of his brain and as his breathing began to even out, a new rush of determination came over him. 

William wouldn't allow the world to tear her so easily from him. No, there was still far too much for them to do. 

"I'll fix this, I promise you. We will be together again. Just give me a little time, love." The words spoken so softly held such intent. A vow far more than a promise. He had learned a few things from her over the years when it came to the occult and the dark beings that resided in the world just outside of their senses. A deal could be made. Whatever sacrifice was worth it. His soul was already damned. Living without her was not an acceptable inevitability. 

First thing was first. He had to clean the mess on the floor beside their bed. With a gentle kiss to her lips and then her forehead, William forced himself to pull away from Selina. Throat still constricted, it took just a moment longer for him to be able to look away from her still, lifeless body and turn his attention properly to the lump of flesh on the floor. Shame that he couldn't have made him suffer longer.

So be it. William knew that there were things that could be harvested from the man to be able to aid his quest. The rest? It would be tossed to feed the rats and stray dogs that ran the streets. 

[lightsoutletsgo]

I’m such an angst girly omg how about lando’s phone not working and reader gets sad he’s not replying or answering her calls for a few days🤨

pairing: lando norris x reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: angst, allusions to a panic attack, reader is v emotional, lando is an idiot ahhhh tysm for sending this in! It was fun to write but ofc I had to make it fluffy to end bc I didn't wanna make myself too sad happy reading! love mimi 🤍

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ — — ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ — — ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ — — ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

Long distance relationships were hard, you knew that before you’d even started dating Lando. You’d heard all of the stories before but like the many innocent others who had yet to experience their partner being on the other side of the world, you were determined that everything would be okay. 

Now, as you thought back to how naive you’d been, you scoffed, how could you have thought it would be so simple? If you weren’t battling with time zones, you were battling to find free time, and if you found free time, it was never quiet and peaceful and it never lasted more than a few minutes. You knew you should have been satisfied with those snatched moments you did get, but you missed your boyfriend. 

You missed him even more when he got another podium and you weren’t there to celebrate with him. You’d stayed up until stupid o’clock to watch the race live and you’d cheered and jumped as your boyfriend performed overtake after overtake to move up the grid to claim second place. You knew that once he had done his post-race interviews and meetings he would call you. You sighed as once more Lando’s contact picture flashed up with ‘facetime unavailable’. You’d scheduled this call the night before but he was only a few minutes late. You shook your head as you took a deep breath, he was probably just finishing up in meetings. Half an hour went by and your stomach twisted with worry as you still hadn’t heard from him. You checked your phone but there were no new notifications - not from him at least anyway. 

You curled up on the couch, noticing Lando’s hoodie still resting over the arm of the couch. Pulling it towards you, you nuzzled your face into it and inhaled, the smell of his cologne washing over you. You felt tears well up in your eyes. No matter how busy or tired he was, he had never once missed your call. You grew angry, not with Lando, never with Lando, but just at the situation. 

You huffed and grabbed your phone once more, deciding to doom scroll through instagram until Lando finally called. You noticed that a few people had posted new stories and so you pressed on the first one, absentmindedly tapping your screen until you paused, sitting up quickly as you realised the story you were looking at was Max Fewtrell’s. He’d posted a video in the club at a post-race party. You normally wouldn’t have batted an eyelid, but you could have sworn in the back corner of the dimly-lit club video was a figure that looked suspiciously like Lando. Going back to the start of his story and scrolling through again you realised it was Lando, wearing the black shirt you’d given him for his birthday the previous year. 

Turns out you could be mad at Lando. Something uncomfortable and hot flashed in your stomach as nausea hit you. Anger curled its way up your spine and through your chest, tightening around your lungs and making it hard to breathe. He was out at a club? And that’s why he hadn’t called you? You growled and glared at your screen, thumbs jabbing into the keyboard as you furiously typed a message to Max. He was online, you noted, as you hit ‘send’ and waited for him to read it. You barely had to wait five minutes before Max was apologising profusely and sending you a long paragraph about how he was sure Lando had texted you and would be letting him know straight away. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, throwing your phone down on the couch next to you with a ‘hmmph’. You sat in silence for a while, your emotions slowly welling up as tears gathered on your lash line. Was this how your relationship was going to end? Long nights alone while Lando partied it up on the other side of the world? Surrounded by scores of choices of pretty women and an endless supply of alcohol? You couldn’t help the way you sobbed as you grabbed his hoodie once more, desperately trying to catch your breath. You were crying so hard you almost didn’t hear the way your phone vibrated on the cushion. You gasped for air as you picked it up and turned it over, Max’s name flashing on the screen. You snatched your phone up and pressed the green button to accept, not even registering that it was a facetime call and he was going to see you crying.

You inhaled sharply as it was Lando’s worried face that appeared on the screen, he looked panicked and you could hear the music thumping in the background although slightly muffled. Despite the fluorescent lights he was standing under, he still looked good, “Baby? Oh my god…” He took in your tear stained cheeks and the way your eyes were red. He noted your sniffling noises and the way your bottom lip trembled, “Love I’m so so sorry!” You let out a laugh and rolled your eyes, trying to not let him see the next wave of tears that were threatening to fall, “Sure.” He sighed, “Honey, I promise you, I didn't mean it. I did text you! I didn’t realise it didn’t go through because I was in the post-race meeting!” “I wanted to celebrate your win with you!” Lando gently shushed you as he saw your chest heave, your breathing quickening once more, “Baby, baby, shh sh sh it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m right here.” He looked off screen for a moment to a person you assumed to be Max before the music got louder again and then quiet, as if Max had left Lando alone. You followed along with his breathing as he over exaggerated for you to copy.

“Love I promise you it was just an accident okay? I texted you to ask if you were ready to call but when there was no reply I assumed you’d fallen asleep so then I texted you to ask if you could be at the airport for 4am…” He winced, “I decided to fly home early and have a few days with you before the next race.” You melted back against the couch, hugging his hoodie to your chest as you tucked your knees up under your chin and rested your phone there, “4am?” You sniffled with a giggle, “Is that my hoodie?” He said, doing his best to distract you and you let out a proper giggle this time, “Lando! 4am is so early!” He laughed, relieved to see you feeling better, “I figured we could go for a super early breakfast and then go home and fall asleep together, in our bed, in our apartment which is my favourite place to be, with my love. Your bottom lip wobbled once more, “You promise?” He nodded to assure you, “I promise.” You inhaled deeply and let out an exhale with a sigh, “I can’t wait to see you,” your thumb gently rubbed across his cheek even through the screen. “I can’t wait to see you either love, can’t wait to be home”

[rimunagenius]

It Was Doomed From The Start

ʚ pairing: Kate Martin x Roommate!reader

ʚ word count: 3.1k words

ʚ warnings: RPF!! , stalking, harassment, angst, self reflection (this topic scares me…don’t judge), fluff ofc bc it’s Kate

ʚ rimunagenius speaks: i know the title looks scary, but i promise, it’s nothing bad with Kate and reader. I wouldn’t write angst for them for this story not yet atleast I also wanted to introduce what Kate has reader under in her phone and i’ve also been thinking about adding one shots about how Kate and reader came up with the nicknames for eachother or little one shots of them before or during the events written about in the series (stuff that didn’t make it to the fic)…if i do they’ll be on the series masterlist but let me know if you’d like to see that!! anyways…here’s the long awaited part three!

Part 3

| Series Masterlist |

"C'mon, it's time to get up, sleeping beauty." There was no beauty in how you were currently knocked out in Kate's bed. Your hair is all over your face and pillow; with parts sticking up due to the lack of hairstyle before going to sleep.

You had your mouth slightly open, quietly breathing through it. You needed this sleep. You usually slept way more appealing but this—this was your well-needed catch up on weeks' worth of rest. "Y/n...y/n. C'mon. We have to get ready." Kate leaned over the bed, a hand on your hip, softly attempting to shake you awake. A string of muffled and incoherent curse words left your mouth as you pulled the comforter over your head.

Curling in on yourself to make yourself small and generate more heat. It was a pretty cold morning in Iowa City. "I don't wanna." You whined under the blanket. Eliciting a small giggle from the blonde, she crawled into the bed, almost spooning you before speaking to you softly.

"Well we have to, sunshine. We have classes, and if you still want to eat breakfast, I suggest you get up now." She flipped the comforter off your head, rubbing her hand up and down your arm. "C'mon, let's go." She gave your arm light taps before she then gripped it and started to pull you out of her bed.

"We should not have stayed up so late last night. It's your fault. I blame you.” You pointed in her face, your hair everywhere and eyes closed, preventing her from taking you seriously. “You kept doing that thing you do with your mouth." You mumbled as you now were standing right infront of your roommate, eyes looking up at her, your mascara under your eyes.

"Sorry I was having a good time. From what I remember you didn't want me to stop." She looked at you, wiping some of the mascara fall out away, giving you a bright smile before walking you towards the bathroom.

"Kate, we were drinking and you know that trick is only funny when we're both under the influence. If you would've stopped messing around, we could've finished both movies at a decent hour. I literally fell asleep in your bed and halfway through the movie." You say as you look at her through the mirror, narrowing your eyes before cleaning your mascara and whatever makeup you had on.

She raised her arms in defense, "I mean, what can I say? I'm the life of the party, baby." She said before placing herself on the counter. "Oh, and I already made waffles and yours are on the counter." She sat and watched your do your whole routine, her legs swinging a little every now and then.

"Yes?" You looked at her as you placed a refreshed coat of mascara on your lashes. You could see her staring. She's been doing that a lot lately. It made you feel warm inside and you wouldn’t lie and say you haven’t been doing it more recently also.

"Nothing. Just watching you." She smiled softly as she watched you do your makeup. A small blush casting over both your cheeks. You both knew what it was.

"Okay, creep." You side eyed her before giving her your best smile, just to prove you were being playful.

"Haha. Funny." Kate mocked you, lightly kicking her foot against the side of your thigh.

"Kate? Can you do me a favor?" You looked at your best friend, her blue eyes immediately meeting yours. She nodded her head quickly, eyes trained in yours immediately trying to read your face for anything wrong.

"Yeah, of course. Is everything okay?" She picked up on your nervous look. You sighed, looking down.

"Nick’s still weirding me out, so I wanted to know if you could walk back here to come get me after your class and take me to my next one? I just don't want to be on campus alone with him being around." You looked nervous, almost as if you had a feeling she'd say no. Of course Kate didn't, though. You still haven’t told her about not even going to report him in the first place.

"Yeah, for sure. I can do that. I'll see you in a bit, yeah?"

"Yeah. Okay, thank you. It's just for this class and my next two and then Hannah can take me to practice later." You watched Kate's face soften.

"Y/n, you know i'd take you to every class. It's not an inconvenience. Whatever you need, I got you." She hugged you before saying a small goodbye and watched you walk inside your class while she waited outside.

You went inside and sat down, your phone pinging with a new message.

bear <3

be safe, ily.❤️

sunshine☀️💕

ilym😘

'bear <3 loved "ilym😘"' 

The class went smoothly, you walked outside to see Kate standing, waiting for you. She must have left class sooner to be here on time to not make you wait. God, you were so grateful for this girl.

She walked you to every class before you had anatomy. So far, Nick hasn't spotted you, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you. You didn’t want to put it past him to find you, but for right now, you were taking the win. As you finally made it to anatomy, Juliana had been waiting outside.

You and Kate had been laughing about something she said when you looked over and saw Juliana watching you both, a smile on her face. "Oh, Kate. This is my friend Juliana, the one who's helping me with the girlfriend thing." You introduced your two friends, them shaking one another's hands.

"Hi, I'm Kate. Nice to meet you." Kate greeted, a friendly smile on her face.

"Oh, I know who your are. Y/n has said so many great things about you. You're almost all she talks about in here." Your face immediately grew red. You hadn't realized you talked about Kate so much. Did you really?

Kate looked down at you and smiled. A small blush rising to her cheeks. "Does she now?" She asked teasingly.

"Yeah, she's always going on about how such a great friend you are. How good you are to her. Makes me jealous." She jokingly added, before chatting Kate up some more. You didn't know what it was but something about Juliana being overly excited about talking to Kate, Kate being engaged in the conversation, was something that made a pit grow in your stomach.

You had no idea why two of your friends talking gave you a sense of jealously. It was frankly ridiculous. Shaking the totally absurd assumptions of this otherwise normal interaction out of your head, you looked down at your phone. A new notification from a random account on instagram.

The picture less profile, what seemed to be a randomly generated username had sent you a message. Clicking the message, you immediately felt a ball in your throat form. Suddenly your knees felt like they would give up and the world would swallow you whole from right where you were standing.

maybe you should make her leave…

this won’t be good for you.

she’s not good for you.

make her leave.

it won’t be good for her either.

You looked around, trying to find who had sent it. They had to have been talking about Kate. You knew who it was, just thing to find him to justify that you weren’t absolutely going crazy and imagining this whole thing.

“Hey, you okay?” Kate looked at you, her eyes scanning every inch of your flushed face, her worry growing by the second.

“Yeah, I’m totally fine. I’m just going to walk into class.” You swalllowed before you looked around once more, suddenly seeing him. Lurking at a nearby a table, hat on, just staring right at you. He was sitting a healthy distance away, but watching your every move. Watching Kate. You couldn’t take this.

You hadn’t realized you had been staring, Kate followed your stare and saw him too. Juliana wrapping her arm around your shoulder, kissing the top of your head. You instantly regretted not being able to sell that you were unbothered, due to Kate starting to walk over to Nick.

“Kate! Don’t. I don’t need you talking to him.” You grabbed her arm, and pleaded with her.

“He’s obviously making you very uncomfortable. I thought you told someone about him already. What did he even say?” You did not have the heart to tell her that you let this man harass you for weeks just because you didn’t want to have any conflict. It wasn’t the best decision but it saved a lot of people trouble and you didn’t want to be inconvenience with this stupid thing. You could handle it. You could handle him.

“Kate, I was going to I swear. But I just forgot. You going up to him and telling him off isn’t going to make it better. Trust me. I do not want him to harass or hurt you too. ” You were getting super overwhelmed. Your eyes burning, your vision going blurry, eyes watering.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Juliana said, rubbing her arms up and down your arms. She didn’t have the first clue of what to do other than report this. She just didn’t want to do it without your permission. It was wrong, but it wasn’t her place.

“Hey, can you give us a moment?” Kate asked her. Juliana nodded and walked inside the class but not without staring Nick down before doing so.

“Hey, look. I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to get all riled up over this. But you do need to tell someone, baby.” Her face dropped and immediately started turning red. She should’ve caught herself. It just slipped. You hadn’t noticed because you were avoiding looking anywhere and seeing him.

You hadn’t picked up on the name. Trying to focus on what she was actually saying instead of thinking of all the ways Nick could harm Kate. What did he mean by ‘it won’t be good for her either’ ? All you could think about was her safety.

“I’m sorry, what?” You looked up at Kate, your brows furrowing. Suddenly feeling the biggest migraine come on.

Kate’s face relaxed, sighing before grabbing your face. “I was just saying that we should go report him, and i’ll take you home. I’ll tell coach we caught something and don’t want to get the team sick. We—I just need to get you out of here. Okay? Can you do that for me?” Her eyes stared into yours, wordlessly pleading with you to choose your safety over thinking you’re a burden to someone else.

You nodded, looking behind her to see that Nick had left. He was gone. That’s when you felt a hand grab yours, fingers interlocking. Kate. Immediately you felt more relaxed, more safe. At home. No one could hurt you when you were with the people you loved and cared for. Who cared for you. The team, your friends, were your home. Kate was your home. Your anchor.

Nothing could hurt you, and you were going to do it together. Sending a quick text to Juliana, letting her know the situation, you and Kate started walking to the deans office. Kate sat with you, held your hand, and made sure you were comfortable while telling the dean everything Nick had done to you and said he’d do over the course of the two and a half years you had been here.

It was extensive. It started off so small that you didn’t notice that he slowly integrated into your life. He was obsessed with you. Stalking you. You didn’t realize until it was too late—til it got bad. You and Kate had found out he was a transfer, changing his whole major and career plan to follow yours. He had been to 6 different universities in the last 3 years due to ‘personal’ issues.

Turns out every formal complaint had been waived and disproven. You weren’t the only woman he’s done this to. It was crazy to think that of the many women, the countless evidence of severe mental disorders and psychotic behavior and harassment, he was still allowed into many other universities, was able to appeal the accusations and allowed to leave it behind him.

Kate was in better words, fuming. Her and the dean had gone at it, you trying to mediate before the dean resulted to benching her for her last season. You guys had been in the deans office for about 2 hours. Leaving just in time to send a text to Coach Bluder that you’d both be in absence at practice today.

You two had been walking, still hand in hand, back to your guys’ apartment. “Kate are you sure you want to miss practice today?” You looked at her, eyes still a little bloodshot from the crying you had done. “I can totally just go home alone and say I just didn’t feel good. I’m not on the team, you are.” She still looked upset and very irritated at the situation. She hasn’t said much since you both left. The second you spoke, her face softened. You tended to do that a lot; you changed her mood. Her mood affects yours and yours hers. And only you two could fix it for the other.

“And leave you alone? On campus where a crazy guy is stalking you and making you feel uncomfortable and unsafe? No way. I’d miss as many practices as you needed me to.” She smiled at you, squeezing your hand, before letting it go, and settling for wrapping her arm around your shoulders.

“Thank you, Kate. Seriously. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” You leaned your head on her, arriving at your apartment.

“Of course. Anything for my favorite girl.” She kissed the top of your head, smiling to herself. She was grateful to have you in her life, she needed you just as much, probably more, than you needed her.

You both helped and healed things in eachother more over the last two and a half years of knowing eachother than anyone had for you both in your guys’ entire lives. “You didn’t do anything to deserve me, you know? Anyone would be lucky to have someone like you. Someone as kind, beautiful, smart, loving, caring, and gorgeous as you. Oh, did i mention you were pretty?” Kate laughed, her cheeks growing pinker by the second.

“Okay, Kate.” You laughed as she unlocked the front door, letting you walk in first. “Thank you. I appreciate you, and I feel the absolute same about you. Any girl who gets you, is the luckiest girl alive.” You smiled at her as you sat the on the couch, her in the kitchen grabbing you both water.

She smiled at you, before you turned to turn the TV on. When you looked away, her smile faltered. You looked at the tv, thinking about what she said. What you had said. You both cared for eachother so deeply. You couldn’t possibly be catching feelings for Kate. Was what you said too obvious…? You had known her for a long time, she was your best friend. That could ruin everything.

Could it? I mean, Kate thought about it over and over, watching your from the kitchen. The way your lips curled slightly when you watched the same reruns of your favorite shows. The way you always sat in the same spot on the couch, next to hers, leaving the perfect amount of room for her but also not enough so that you guys would be touching.

It was hard for the both of you to think this way about the person you have shared a space with for so long. Your roommate. Your best friend. You both needed to figure this out. But it was hard. You couldn’t possibly harbour feelings for the one person you both told yourself not to when this arrangement came to be.

Maybe that should’ve been the first sign. The sign that this living situation was doomed from the moment it was thought into existence; it was doomed from the start. How could you possibly set that boundary, silently in your guys’ head, that you guys couldn’t catch feelings. It would only have meant that you both could’ve seen this coming. I mean, neither one of you turned a blind eye to the other being attractive. Let alone, being eachothers type.

Kate brought you both the waters. Setting them down on the coffee table infront of you. Sitting down in her spot, next to you. You leaned your head on her shoulder almost instantly. Whether you had feelings for her or not, the comfort Kate had brought you was something you couldn’t describe. The need to have the feeling of Kate next to you seemingly growing worse with the feelings.

The familiarity was something you haven’t known since back home. So you essentially chased the feeling whenever you could have it. “Thank you for being there for me, Kate. I mean, truly. I already said it, but thank you.” Snuggling a little closer, bring one knee to your chest.

“Anytime, you know that. I’d do anything for you,” Her voice grew quieter at the end of her sentence. She meant it. “Besides, you’d be completely lost without me, sunshine. You need me.” She smiled when you landed a soft playful smack across her chest. She reached her arm over your shoulders, making you more comfortable.

“You’re right, I do.” You laughed before turning your attention to the TV. You both watched TV the rest of the night, deciding that you’d worry about the Nick thing more tomorrow. The dean telling you that it’d be handled very soon and quickly as possible. So, it was tomorrows problem.

As you both watched TV, you both thought over the fact you may be inlove with your best friend. It may be real and you’d both have to find a way to either move on or deal with it.

And fast.

[celuere]

Hii Alba! I've been reading your works, and they're all amazing! ❤️

Can I request an Arlecchino x Reader who is Pierro's adopted daughter? Maybe when Arlecchino became a harbinger and reader (they're the same age ofc) was her first (and maybe her only) friend there? And they grew up to become closer and closer? You can decide for the rest hihihi thank you! 🥰

Why Anon ofc, I‘m at your beck and call!!! I actually think that’s such a neat concept of getting to know her, like meeting Arle freshly after crucabenas assassination she is of course not the most extroverted person and it takes some time for her to start to open up to you AAAAAA I‘M SO GONNA GET TO WRITING THIS AND TY FOR YOUR KIND WORDS🫶

The Hearth is now extinguished.

Pairing: Arlecchino x fem!Reader

Context: As Pierro’s adoptive daughter you‘ve known the Knave for quite a few years now and you grew… close to her to say the least… always finding excuses to accompany your father to every possible Harbinger Meeting, to maybe even share the same mission locations together… and a bed on occasions. But little did you know, you sadly weren’t as sneaky as your father taught you to be.

Content: mutual pining, unspoken feelings, doomed yuri (my fav kind), suggestive (mentions of arle and reader being intimate, other than that sfwangst, pre-Fontaine arc, reader has a vision, ANGST.

I really hope I hit the nail on the head with the plot, let me know if you like it anon!<333

A/N: […] stands vor Your name! I‘m not a big fan of using Y/N as it lowkey ruins the sentence for me😭 I‘ve also been working on the second part of the Teased story, expect it to be a long one!

You remember the day just as clear as todays morning sky at which you’ve been staring up at for the past minutes. A soft breeze hit your face, brushing the strands of hair out of your face. You were a little nervous to say the least. You were waiting for somebody. Waiting for her so you can finally confess.

Waiting for her as your mind once again went back to the day you first met…

Blizzards have been raging in Snezhnaya lately as you stood next to the Jester, hands tucked tightly into the warmth of your coat. As Pierro‘s daughter, adoptive daughter to be more specific, you had certain duties. One of them was accompanying your father to appoint the next Fatui Harbinger.

The news about Crucabenas sudden death by the hands of one of her own children reached the Fatui HQ in the capital of the City of eternal winter a good four days ago. A 17 year old girl. Killing a Fatui Harbinger. Seventeen. The same age as you. To be honest you were by no means defenseless, being adopted by the first Fatui Harbinger himself came with a few perks, one of them being trained to perfection in almost every weapon category. It wasn’t uncommon either for your father to send you of to an assassination all by yourself at the ripe of age of 14 and being a Cryo Visionholder ever since your tenth birthday… well let’s just say that most high ranking officials weren’t a match for you. But thinking about even scratching La Signora, who was standing and waiting behind you… or just as much as breathe in the wrong direction of Capitano on your left… it wouldn’t came to you in your wildest dreams

So who exactly was that girl?

You were interrupted in your thoughts as the big wooden doors opened. Revealing a rather… small girl… even with the clacking sounds of heels against the polished marble floors, you could tell that she was around half a head smaller than you.

But her height wasn’t what caught your attention. Nor was it her white hair that‘s illuminated by the moon light shining down on her through the windows of the dome above her head.

Red.

It was the deep crimson x‘s adorning her pitch black eyes that you caught yourself staring at, the words coming out of your father‘s mouth completely drowned out as she strode up to the altar. Her face expressionless, almost cold in fact. Your breath got caught in your throat as she took notice of your staring, a tint of pink starting to form on your cheeks, you shifted slightly behind your father.

She was beautiful… not beautiful like Rosalyn… another kind…

And for the rest of the entirety of the meeting you couldn’t help but study her. Study the pretty earrings grazing her earlobes. How she didn’t even move a single inch once she came to a stop in front of you and Pierro. The soft eyebags underneath her eyes, probably the result of her hard training. But to your disappointment she didn’t even as much as looked into your direction ever since you made eye contact at the very beginning.

Arlecchino. That was the new name bestowed upon her. She inherited the title as Knave along with the House of the Hearth. Quite a lot for a seventeen year old girl, who just wanted to kill the monster that was called „Mother“ at the orphanage. Of course you knew Crucabena. And you knew Clervie, her late daughter. You knew she was a terrible person, someone who didn’t deserve the title „Mother“, how she treated her daughter and the other kids under her care, someone who hopefully is rotting in the depths of hell at this very moment.So you couldn’t help but feel anything else other than utmost sympathy for the girl in front of you.

You wanted… no. You had to befriend her. No questions asked.

So you secretly beamed in excitement when Pierro asked you to show her around Zapolyarny Palace and explain how things are operating from here on now. Stepping forward you revealed your hand from beneath the warmth of your coat and waited for her to take it.

„[…]. It‘s a pleasure to finally meet you.“, you hesitated before a soft smile tucked at the corner of your lips as you waited for her to shake your hand. And to be fair, it took her a few moments. She stared down at your hand for a while, as if she was debating something in her head. Then you finally noticed the movement underneath her coat before she revealed her own hand. And from there on you were mesmerized by her.

Pitch black hands along with dark-grey lines tracing the back of her hand before disappearing beneath her sleeves.

„It is rude to stare.“, to your surprise, her voice was deeper than expected.

„I…“, you quickly cleared your throat before taking her hand into yours, „of course, my sincere apologies…“. Goodness, her hand was soft. And she was even more prettier from this up close.

You heard Signora trying to hide a laugh behind her hand, along with Capitano clearing his throat, probably doing the same.

Insufferable old bags.

But little did you know, this handshake marked the start of an inseparable bond between the two of you. Of course, talking to Arlecchino at the beginning was… dreadful to put it mildly. Short answers. Never laughing. Always monotone in her voice. But you were never a girl who gave up so easily, you were quite the opposite. So you stayed strong, using every excuse under the sun to participate in ever meeting alongside your father, no matter how long it would take as long as you got to sit at the same table as her. Fortunately your efforts weren’t in vain because around four months after Arlecchino got appointed as Harbinger, she started to slowly get more comfortable around you. It started with small things. And I mean SMALL things, such as keeping the seat next to her free for you to sit down, accompanying you to take a walk through the capital city whenever she had a spare hour in her schedule, always staying by your side whenever a bigger event rolled around. She still didn’t talk much but you were satisfied with the progress nonetheless.

And after even more months, you could actually have a conversation with her. Turned out she hates the taste too flavorful foods, preferring more plain meals such as… raw meat on a toast along with some ketchup. It gagged you a little the first time she ordered it at a small restaurant she seemed to frequent, but you kept your mouth shut. She‘s just started to open up to you, making a remark in her taste in foods would only set you back in the progress you‘ve already made with her. You even accepted when she offered you a bite. And it tasted… strange. Not awful but also not exceptionally good either.

„You don’t like it?“, she brought up the the toast to her mouth before taking another bite herself as she studied the expressions on your face.

„It‘s… unique… I still prefer salted bacon on a toast instead…“, you washed down the weird taste with a few gulps of your water. As you did so, Arlecchino bent over the table to you, hand reaching out to your face. Your heart set out multiple beats as the butterflies in your stomach flared up.

What does she think she is doing?!

„Arle what-”, her hand gently touched your hair as she interrupted you while taking her hand back, „There was a spider in your hair.“. The small eight-legged animal crawling over her fingers as something akin to fascination washes over the Harbinger‘s face. This is your first time ever seeing something other than an indifferent facial expression on her.

„Oh…“, you leaned in closer to take a look at it, „are you fond of spiders…? You don’t seem scared to me like most people are…“, you could barely make the black spider out on her cursed hands.

„I had a pet spider when I was six years old. They’re easy to take care of. I like them.“, she set the small thing down on the windowsill next to your table. That statement somehow fit her so well. You couldn’t put your finger on why that was the case, but you were always happy to find out more about her.

By the time her 19th birthday rolled around you already taught her how to to braid the hair she‘s been growing out ever since her appointment as Knave. Your fingers delicately combing through her silky strand as you were sat behind her in front of a mirror. You were 18 at that time.

„It’s been getting in my way a lot lately. But I don’t want to cut it off again. I… like it more this way.“, her own crimson eyes skimming over a report from one of her subordinates as she enjoyed -yes. enjoyed.- your fingers running through her hair. Oddly enough it seemed to calm her down, causing her to lean more into your hands. Of course the sudden movement didn’t go unnoticed by you, but you didn’t comment on it. Knowing her, she would brush it off anyways.

„Good thing that you have me…“, you smiled at her through the mirror before you binded her together and set back. „There. All done. Do you like you it?“, you stood up from the floor to get something from your accessory box.

As you searched for a certain hair clip, Arlecchino looked at herself in the mirror, moving her head to the side to have a look at your handwork. „It‘s… simple. I think it suits me well. Thank you, […].“, her eyes landed on you as you walked back to her, a unique accessory in your hand.

„I‘ve had this clip ever since I was a small girl…“, you sat down next to her, revealing the metal thingy in your hand. At the first look it didn’t even seem like a hair clip. The curled up wings on each side looked more like something that belonged into a museum. „Let me put it in your hair really quick…“, you moved back behind her and took the tail back into your hand.

„You… really don’t have to. I‘m fine with this, I wouldn’t want you to give up something as beautiful as this hair clip for me.“, …what was that feeling stirring up inside her stomach…? It wasn’t quite new to her. She often feels like this whenever she‘s around you but she couldn’t exactly pinpoint it either. To be honest, she feels a lot of things whenever she is with you. Not that she would ever admit that of course. It wasn’t like this with Clervie, it was more… romantic…? Either way it confused her.

„Nonsense. I‘ve never worn this one in my entire life. It will only continue to collect dust here…“, you fixed the clip on her ponytail. „And it suits you way better than me anyways.“, you grabbed a smaller mirror from your bed behind you and held it up so Arlecchino could have a better look at her ponytail in the bigger mirror in front of you. „Much better, isn’t it?“

And from this day on, she wore that specific hair clip you’ve given her. At all times. Everyday. You actually never saw her with anything else keeping her hair together. It was always those metal wings adorning her white-red hair.

Time flew by faster than would’ve liked but over the months, years you grew… closer? That‘s a mild way to put it. There was something unique between the two of you. The way you‘d look at each other. The way Arlecchino would always be the first one to ask you for a dance at a formal event, one hand gently holding onto your waist, the other one cupping your hand as she led the both of your over the dance floor as the orchestra switched to a more… slower song.

The funny thing is… remember how she used to be half a head smaller than you about three years ago? About that… growth spurt seemed to hit her a bit late as you now had to lean your head back into your neck to maintain eye contact with her.

„Isn‘t your neck slowly starting to get stiff…?“, she bit her lower lip, the x‘s in her eyes shimmering from the chandelier light shining down at you two. She wore a tailored black-red suit that night, and you couldn’t help yourself but look her up and down multiple time for the duration of the evening.

„Shut it… your not that much taller than me.“, that was a blatant lie. She could easily rest your chin on top of your head. You both knew that. „My, my… feisty today, aren’t we?“, she let you spin around before pulling you closer to her chest again. In her eyes you were the most beautiful person to ever exist right now. The ballgown complimenting your body perfectly, your hair put up nicely, probably by yourself, which suited your face so well, it actually was hard for her to believe that someone could be so… so incredibly beautiful as you were…

It’s not like she would ever openly admit that.

Of course you noticed her shameless staring on that very same evening. How her eyes landed on your lips multiple times, often not adverting her gaze for a longer period of time. How she licked over her own whenever she took in your dress. You knew she wanted so say something. But you didn’t pressure her, it‘s Arlecchino after all.

You also remember how she pressed you up against the door of your sleeping chambers later that night. Left hand slipping underneath your dress as the other one undid your hair. Tongues intertwined while the hand that’s been sneaking up underneath your skirt grabbed onto your ass like you were hers to take. Hers to touch. Hers to kiss. She didn’t even let you break up your kiss when your mixed saliva was dripping out of the corner of your lips. She kissed you like it‘s all she ever yearned for. As if your lips might be the cure to the curse flowing through the blood in her veins.

But even after that night, neither of you dared to speak up on the feelings you had for each other. You just continued sharing a bed from time to time. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear as she made whine her name out in ecstasy. Her kisses tasting after something forbidden. Something addictive, it was getting unbearable for you to keep your mind at bay whenever she was near you in public. How your father didn’t notice it, you had no idea. But it was better this way.

The problem wasn’t Arlecchino‘s gender but rather her occupation. A Harbinger was strictly off of the table for you. That rule applied to every member of the Fatui. You didn’t even want to imagine how he would react.

But you weren’t surprised as Pierro was now standing before you. Not the woman, you‘ve been waiting for. His glare stirred up your anxiety, causing you to start fidgeting with your fingers.

„I… I can ex-", you immediately shut your mouth as your father raised his hand to silence you.

„That‘s enough. I thought I taught you better than this. The Knave? You are smarter than this, […]. I raised you to be smarter than this. I have observed the situation long enough to tell that you two have gotten emotionally attached to each other. Especially you.“, he put his hands behind back, shaking his head.

Silence. The wind now suddenly gone. It was quiet. Too quiet, in fact. Something was about to happen and you hated this knowledge. Hated how it made your stomach sink. Hated how it made your legs heavy.

„Arlecchino will be transferred back to her homeland, Fontaine, to get a hold of the Hydro Gnosis. She is probably already on her way there. For the complete duration of her stay, you are strictly prohibited to even set foot at Fontaine‘s Borders. I’ve already put you on the blacklist for operations regarding the Nation of Justice. I think, I don’t have to explain to you that letters are off the table, too?“, a punch to your stomach would’ve hurt less than this. Hollow. That would explain best whatever you felt at this very moment. You didn’t even had the chance to tell her your feelings. That you never want to be apart from her again. That you want to grow old with her, no matter what.

„Too shocked to answer, I see…“, he put his hand onto your back. Guiding you back to the city, ignoring the tears starting to taint your pretty face. You hated him in that very moment. Hated Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated.

Hated.

„While we are at it, the son of one of Pantalone’s most successful business partners recently asked me about you. A nice man, indeed. Intelligent, promis-”

„No.“, you halted in your tracks. It took every fiber in your body to not smash something in his face. You were seething with anger. And he only added more fuel to it on purpose.

„Hm… too bad, daughter. Let me know once you changed your mind.“.

As you trotted back to HQ you were a shell of yourself. The letter you prepared for her in advance along with a ring was burning a hole through your pocket.

——————————————————

Some angst for the soul. I‘m sorry I just saw the opportunity right in front of me and took it guys, please don’t bother sending in your therapy bills🙏🏼 anon I hope you liked this one and let me know your thoughts on this!

[chilschuck]

omg… thinking abt chil reconnecting w his ex wife and becoming platonic besties. imagine they talk about it finding love again (chil’s ex has a new gf)… chil realises he’s caught feelings for reader… his ex teasing him about it…

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ OMG ANON THIS HAD ME GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET, WAHHHH. SUCH A CUTE IDEA!!!! it’s currently 2 am but i had to get this out for you since you’ve been waiting a while!!! it was so much fun!! <33

— ALL BECAUSE OF YOU.

꒰ info: ꒱ chilchuck x gn!reader

꒰ warnings: ꒱ none, sfw!! some cussing ofc lol

꒰ wc: ꒱ 586

✦ tumblr deleted this before i could post it twice so let’s pray it posts this time, LOL. short but sweet, i hope you enjoy!!! <333

“So… Who are they?”

That simple question was enough to make him choke on his drink. Was he that easy to read? Catching his breath, the half-foot immediately sputtered.

“What are you talking about?” Yet, the knowing look on her face said it all. Even if they had been separated for this long, she could still figure out just what he was hiding. So much for trying to keep some things personal…

“You have this expression, this content smile I haven’t seen in years, Chilchuck. Someone’s making you happy.” Her tone was not condescending in the slightest, rather content with this new revelation. Her words caused his cheeks to flush, more than the ale in his cup could.

And she was right. He was coming to terms with his feelings; and even the thought of you was enough to make him whole again. The fact it was so obvious was rather embarrassing, and he could feel the tips of his ears burn.

“Yeah, yeah… I guess you figured it out before I got a chance to tell you.”

They were nothing like they used to be, having settled on staying close through friendship. Although this maybe would’ve been hard to do in the past, Chilchuck felt more peaceful than he thinks he has in years. There was something about you that lit fire to his senses in ways he had long forgotten, and he found himself seeking you out more than he’d like to admit.

“I’ve told you plenty about my new girlfriend, now it’s your turn to spill. What are they like? It’s a sight to see you this happy.”

It was something only someone who really knew him could see; the change in his demeanor, the light in his eyes, the smile that threatened to spill from the corners of his lips. And it was all because of you.

“You’re going to laugh when I tell you how I met them,” he began, licking the ale from his lips in thought. “Laios’ party. I really ended up eating my own words about inner party romance, huh?” The last sentence came out in a grumble, one that caused her to laugh.

“Wow, they made you go against your own rules? Must be a keeper.”

And you were. Warm, but not enough to burn. Bright, but not blindingly so. Sweet, but not sickening. Chilchuck found himself feeling like a teenager again when it came to you. He bit his tongue.

“So you’re going to confess to them, right?” She teased, prodding his shoulder. “Look at you, blushing like a schoolboy. Must be serious.”

He opened his mouth to retort, before closing it again. The words died before he could speak, the full gravity of his feelings for you hitting him like a freight train. Burying his head in his arms, he groaned. “Shit…”

Chilchuck was doomed. Yet even as his head spiraled from a mixture of the alcohol and his new found love, it always went back to you. You, and your smiles, and your laugh, and your touch. There weren’t enough curse words he could possibly growl out in this moment to make himself feel better.

His ex wife laughed again, patting him on the back and stirring him from his thoughts. “Jeez, you really are a schoolboy. Maybe you should give them a love letter while you’re at it. Might be smart, actually.”

That’s how the rest of their time together went; two close friends musing about the ability to find love again. All because of you.

— dividers by @/cafekitsune! <3

[soulc-hilde]

Welcome to the Wild

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x OFC! Caden

Synopsis: No longer about her future, Caden spirals as the rug is once again pulled from underneath her feet. Living her days in a silent shell, she forces herself into her work. Noted as the restaurant's Mute Pâtissier, the stuttering eyes of her boss always finds themselves attached to her. Studying her. Like some animal in the wild.

Divider by @strangergraphics-archive

“Honey, how are those buns comin’, love?” Mickey’s deep voice calls over the chaos of the kitchen.

In the far corner, blocked off from the madness was his sole baker, prepared for war and unbothered with the onslaught of orders. She pulls out the third baking tray of rolls and places them inside the rack before turning to coat a tray of recently cooled ones with honey butter. The perfect, golden rolls absorb the butter. Droplets run down its sides slowly, the bread appearing like a professional photograph.

“First three trays are finished,” she calls back, not a pause in her pace noticeable.

The Berzatto nods, a grin taking over his chiseled features as he watches her work. “Atta’ girl,” he compliments, hustling on with the service. Afterwards as the staff gathered for Family, everyone talking and laughing, Caden looks over at the man who seemed to bring ease into her life.

“Why that name?” She asks, quietly. He looks over at her, stumped at the question.

“What name you talkin’ about, Honey?” He retorts, eyebrows scrunched. She nods his way, “that one. Honey. Where’d you even get that from?”

This time he looks down at his plate, fork shuffling the food around. “Because you’re a good kid, ya know?” He tilts his head up, looking at her.

“You try to push people away, scare ‘em off, but you really just want a family. You want someone to love your sweet soul just as much as you’d love them.”

Caden scoffs, playfully, shaking her head. “The day that someone can look me in my eyes and say ‘I love you’ and mean that shit, pigs’ll start flyin’.”

She swallows a fork full of collard greens and a bit of turkey tail in the mix, eyebrows scrunching happily. Mickey looks at her, his shy gaze steeled as he stares through her. The once mute kid Tina brought to his office like a lost kitten has become the rambunctious, scatterbrained little sister he never asked for but appreciated.

He chuckles, “just be happy it’s ‘Honey’ and not ‘Squirrel.’ kiddo.”

She sends a playful glare, chubby cheeks stuffed with food. “Hey, my ADHD ain’t a joke,” she tries to scold yet her words come out jumbled and slurred.

He smiles, leaning forward, ear facing her, “what was that? I couldn’t hear you over those stuffed cheeks, Squirrel.”

“Go to Hell,” she mumbles, going back to her food, ignorant of his eyes watching her with a soft gaze.

---

No one really goes into details about the hero of the story dying and how their loved ones, their supporters, deal with it. For Caden, Michael's death wasn't that big of a shocker. No one lives forever unless you're the Devil's favorite. Mickey was the most stereotypical older brother anyone could ever meet.

The stand-in father. Believes everyone is better off without him. The one who puts up with his abusive mother's shit, not because he's an enabler but the little boy who watched it all go to shit just can't let go.

God, she missed him. Despite having her own older brothers, Caden was doomed from the start, as if neglect and trauma was all she was destined for. No friends, a negligent mother, an ill father, and avoidant brothers.

But, Michael was her brother, though.

When Tina brought her to The Beef, all the poor girl had was a backpack of clothes, her grandfather's saving, and desperation. Michael took her in, watched her bake and turn the pastries she once drew into a reality like some magician.

If only she knew how much she reminded him of Carmen.

"Those two'll bitch each other out, but they'd be one hell of a front." He'd think with that smile he'd carry as if everything was gonna be okay.

Maybe she shouldn't have answered her phone that night. She should've declined his offer, make up some lame excuse like homework.

No. Even if that was the last memory of him she had, she'd much prefer that they were together rather than apart.

---

"Cousin," Richie's microphone for a voice rings off the kitchen walls. "You may already know some of these guys, seeing as they've been here longer than me. Tina, Ebra, Angel, Manny, and finally, the soul of the team, Honey."

Caden side eyes the men, lazily looking at them for a moment before sending a nod toward the short, curly haired one. Just as quick as she turned, she resumes back to her station, sorting her spices and chocolates. Behind, Richie simply waves her off, blowing a rasberry.

"Don't mind her. The name's sweet, but, uh, she's kind of dark." He warns the younger man. Ebra leans over, "her name's Caden. If you're a smart boy, you'd call her that."

Richie scoffs, "c'mon, this is Carmy, we're talkin' about. Mikey's little brother? It works out, perfectly, the Bears and their honey."

Walking past, Caden smacks her hand against the back of head, beelining for the walk-in. The man winces, rubbing the heated spot with a grimace, glaring at her back.

Inside the walk-in, she glares at the bananas, aggressively picking them off the shared stem. Why the fuck would he say some shit like that? Makin' it sound like some damn affair happened between her and Mike.

She'll fucking kill him if he keeps going. Marching back to her corner, her blank eyes fall onto the man, or Carmy's, blue eyes. He was obviously watching, waiting for her to walk out.

He walks over as she begins chopping a peeled banana into perfectly symmetrical slices. "I'm, uh, Carmen," he practically whispers, fingers pinching at his bottom lip.

"I'm sorry... uh, about, about Richie. He's an asshole, doesn't know when he's gone too far," he continues.

She nods, lost amongst the rhythm she subconsciously follows with every cut. "Have you, uh, have you ever went to culinary school?"

Her hand comes to a stop, her attention now focusing on him. Rather than snap, she curls her plump lips inward and bites down before shaking her head.

He nods, shrugging, "i, I was just wonderin', ya know? With the way you, uh, take, take care of your station, it's, uh. It's experienced."

"OCD," she whispers.

Her eyes return to the cutting board, hands frozen in place to memorize the exact width she had cut. Finishing the first one, she grabs the second, mimicking the actions of the first time, not a step different or seconds behind.

Laying the bare fruit beside the chopped pieces of its twin, she places her hands in a starting position. Left hand gripping the fruit, index and thumb pressed gently against her cutting mark that matched exactly to the ones beside it.

Carmen watches, fascinated, as the embodiment of silence works in an ongoing loop of repetition, shutting him out from her world. Her fucked up world of madness.

"You enjoyin' the show or some'?" A voice questions him, snapping the man from his thoughts.

Turning to face the intruder, his eyebrows raise with panic as Tina glares up at him. The corner of her top lip is pinned up, teeth bared as if she was prepared to mame him.

"Uh, no, not. It's not, it's not like that," he rushes to his defense. Her eyebrows raise, expression shifting to one of aghast. "Oh, so, you don't think she's beautiful? Talented? What, you too good for this place?"

He jaw jolts, brain short-circuiting as the older woman rapidly fires assumptions his way. He knew coming through the restaurant as a nobody was a risk. He may have been Michael's baby brother, the star in his eyes, but they only knew Carmen by his words. To them, Carmen was a fantasy character. The kid that stood in front of them was just a stranger, the stranger who was also their new boss.

"Tia," the woman calls, finished slicing the bananas. She turns to glare at the two. "Do you mind? I've got a system going on, right now. Take the playground shit somewhere else, yeah?"

Unlike the staff built up of Chicago natives and ethnic backgrounds - Latino and Italian being the majority, she didn't yell. Regardless of how far she stood from anyone, she never even raised her voice in a way to project her words. She just talked, casually, and if you heard her than you heard her.

If you didn't? Well, tough shit cause she won't repeat herself.

Her voice was mellow and naturally rested at a low octave. Her accent nowhere near the Chicago accent, it was more of a general midwest/southern accent. Her words relied heavily on the southern part of her dialect. It was as if she was a puzzle that just kept scrambling, creating greater confusion than understanding.

"Yeah, system, mija," Tina nods, a condescending smile taking over. "Don't fuck," she points at Carmen, finger just inches from his face. "with the system. Cocotazo."

She walks off, leaving the younger chefs to themselves.

---

In the beginning, he believed that Tina was fucking with him. "The system" was a fucking mess. It was about as sloppy and greasy as the restaurant itself. As the thoroughly trained professional he is, Carmen decided that things were to take a change for the better. The first being to go?

Every fucking red flag that dressed the staff like some high-end jacket. And God, did they fucking complain. Turn into children with their stomps, glares, and petty insults aimed at him no matter what he did.

Just simply asking for the chefs to keep up with proper hygiene outside of the typical washing hands with soap for 20 seconds resulted in a 'fuck you' and 'don't fuck with the system.'

Well, fuck me for not wantin' to deal with sick customers, he scoffed at the thought. A breath-filled chuckle releases beside him. Quickly, he looks over to meet eyes with Caden. She leant her right shoulder against the doorway of the office, face seemingly blank but her eyes hummed with warmth.

"I wouldn't wanna deal with these bitches on a regular, much less because they got sick from us," she states, referencing to the statement that rang through his mind.

He straightens, "oh, oh? Di-Did I say that out loud?" She nods, "yeah, you did." She steps further into the office, closing the door behind her. "But that's not what I'm here to talk to you about. Well, actually, it has some connection."

"Okay, uh, here," he stands, leaning over to push out another small metal foldable chair. "Take a, uh, seat. Take a seat." She nods, settling down beside him. "So, what did you wanna talk about?"

Please, don't say you're quitting. Please, don't say you're quitting, his conscience pleas.

"Staff," she starts off. "I love those assholes, but even when Mikey was here and runnin' the show, it was fuckin' chaos. They think they're functioning well because Mikey never corrected them, but we both know they're not."

His eyebrows raise with surprise. "Oh?" he whispers, sitting back in the wheeled chair, fingers pulling at his lips.

"Mh," she nods. "And don't even get me started on the bakery. Before Mikey died, we were workin' togetha' on how to make the bakery faster. Which meant better equipment and shit," she snorts.

"We don't have the money, though. Which leads me to the next suggestion," she leans forward. "We're gonna have to start hirin' some help."

Taglist: @spiderstyles04 @lostinwonderland314

[huramuna]

banshee's lament - chapter 4.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

a/n: this chapter might be a bit slower. it's building some things up and i wanted to brush up on my combat writing. it's a bit scuffed but i hope you enjoy! aemond is kind of feral in this chapter.

wordcount: 4.2k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, my terrible, terrible combat writing

story playlist

‘Little wolf spider’ Helaena had called her. She remembered Helaena’s incessant facts about them specifically– why, of all things, did she remember that? She remembered Helaena citing that they were excellent hunters with superb eyesight. They did not spin webs, most being wanderers without permanent homes.

It almost made her want to laugh. It truly described her well, didn’t it? Besides the eyesight part… and the hunting part– she was indeed, a little wolf spider– doomed to be alone and not able to make her own home, a rolling stone amongst the waves that threatened to drown her.

After the betrothal announcement dinner and subsequent breakdown of Shera, she stayed in her chambers for a few days, not feeling well enough to socialize, nor see the faces of people that would’ve heard her crying. Cregan visited a few times, bringing her a meal or two and forcing her to bathe– it was agitating her to be forced to do something she loved, something she wished to do alone.

He, thankfully, had maids do the actual washing part– but this still annoyed Shera to bits. She hated being touched, being fretted over by them as they looked upon her like she was lesser, like she wasn’t capable of doing things herself. She felt suffocated in a place that usually brought her peace, simpering tiny whines as they pulled at her hair. 

I can do it, I can do it– just let me do it!

She wanted to scream and claw their wandering eyes out, then go and kick Cregan in the balls– this was his fault, his fault– 

Finally, the maids left and she felt like a freshly plucked duck, ready to be roasted over the fire. Her skin was red and pink, emanating heat that she could almost see, steam roiling over her overwrought skin.

Moongeist whined at the closed washroom door– they had locked him out, the absolute fiends. She wrapped in a robe, pinning her hair up with a whale bone pin and opened the door.

“Come here, lovey,” she cooed, voice broken and hoarse still. “They locked you out– my poor bubby.” Shera pat his head, descending onto her knees. She was still weak from the emotional turmoil she’d gone through, bleeding into her physical state, but she would need to be bed bound before she would ever forsake Moongeist proper scratches. Her hands glided through his black fur and she pressed her face to him, taking in his familiar scent.

 Everyone said he smelled like a dog, but that was simply untrue. He smelled… clean, he smelled like wolf– which was much different than smelling like dog. It was primal and heady, deep and warm like fir trees and pine nettles and all the things that were so synonymous with him. She scratched behind his ears and his leg thumped on the ground. 

Cregan returned to her chamber, a plate of something sweet smelling in his hand. He put it down on the dining table. “Are you feeling better today?” 

Shera’s mouth pursed into a thin line as she got back to her feet— with Moongeist’s assistance— and meandered to the table. “Define better.” she murmured, inspecting the plate. It was piled high with her favorite treat; sticky honey walnut cakes. Her mouth filled with saliva instantly and her brow raised to Cregan. Perhaps her brother was more considerate than she thought. 

“Better as in you’d be able to walk the Keep— Jacaerys and I are going to be skirmishing in the training yard at noon.” 

She all but scowled as she pilfered one of the pastries, biting into it without much decorum. It was a messy dessert, designed to be eaten with a fork and knife— but damn that, she would be sticky faced like a honey drunk bear if she pleased! She melded into the flavors, the nostalgia of it tampering her mood. “… I suppose I could watch.”

“He asked for you, you know.” 

Shera’s brow raised. ‘He’ could mean a lot of people. “Who?” 

“Jacaerys. He asked if you were alright and wished his condolences for your… illness.” 

“Is that what we are saying it is now? An illness?” she muttered, taking another bite of the cake. Yes, how diminishing it felt to pass off her fragility of mind as an illness. Of course— how else could it be put? She was surprised that it wasn’t being spread as a ‘malady of woman’, or some other pompous innocuous name for whatever was really wrong with her. 

“What would you call it then?” 

She made a noncommittal noise and continued eating. After finishing, she let out a sigh. “Thank you for the cakes, Cregan.” 

“I didn’t bring them— they were at your chamber door when I came back.” 

She tilted her head. “They were just… there?” 

“I didn’t even know you liked honey walnut cakes, Shera.” 

She clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “I’ll be at the yard at noon. I need to get ready, if you please.” she said, the nicest way of putting it. Leave, brother. You’re annoying. 

–

Dressed in a lighter garment than usual, she descended the steps carefully. A light blue tulle train flowed behind her, rippling and waving in the breeze like the white capped crests upon the Blackwater. It was different from her normal style of muted, monotone colors— mayhaps it was a way to uplift herself. 

It was a lovely blue and green hue, embroidered with filigree patterns. The sleeves were long, accompanied by a sweeping circular decolletage, exposing her soft collarbone and the faintest swell of breast. She had felt so confident leaving her chambers— she even went with a shorter veil than usual, the lace falling just past her jaw. 

Walking down the hall, Moongeist nosed her hand to his head, as if to remind her of something. She felt… exposed. A bit too much for her liking. Her fingers glided over her wolf’s soft fur… and she remembered, swiftly turning around to grab her fur stole from her room. “Thank you for reminding me, sweet boy,” she hummed, snuggling into the comforting, familiar fur. 

Descending down to the training yard, she fanned herself with an errant hand. Even with less layers than usual and lighter colors, she was still broiling under the sun. Moongeist panted near her, tongue lolled out in silent agreement.

“A parasol might do you well, my lady,” a bored voice drawled. “Your pale complexion does you wonders, but I wonder if you still flay in the sun like as a child.” 

“Aegon,” Shera recognized the lazy, tired voice of the eldest child of Alicent. He had been one of her companions back in the day, but also one of her greatest foes– before the incident of course. “I’m surprised to see you outside. I’ve heard you’re solely a creature of the dark now.”

“I am full of surprises, dear Shera,” he caught up to her, looping their arms together all too readily. He had a dopey smile on his face, but it didn’t match the pure exhaustion in his eyes. Dark bags fell under those violet orbs like a dreary storm. “I happen to be coming back from… such nightly activities.”

Moongeist let out a growl as he touched her, but Shera silenced him. She didn’t believe that she had any reason to fear Aegon and thought him almost as pathetic as she. “Very well.”

“I heard about… the dinner. I’m glad I slipped out when I did, I knew it’d be a shit show,” he was fiddling with his rings on his free arm, all while stringing her along to the training yard. “Curious how Aemond said you were a bashed up mess under that veil of yours, and yet– he is challenging your betrothed and your brother to a duel?”

“How do you know that?” 

“I have my ways– eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Helaena told you, didn’t she?”

“... mm. Maybe– even so, I don’t think it’s wholly terrible under there, is it?” he peered at her, a single hand lifting her veil to peek underneath. 

She promptly slapped his hand away and wrenched herself from his grasp, followed by Moongeist giving a warning snap to the air. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Sleeping off your night, mayhaps?” 

“Well– yes,” Aegon backed up, putting his hands in the air in surrender. “I just wanted to catch up. Is that so terrible?”

“Yes.” 

He patted down imaginary dust from his doublet, twisting his rings again as they reached the landing to the training yard observation deck. He leaned his head to look out and survey it for a moment before a devilish smirk perked at his mouth once more. “You are going to wish that it was me talking to you soon enough, Shera. Have fun, zokla.” Wolf. 

Shera watched him jaunt off with an air of confusion, turning to walk onto the rampart. She saw Jacaerys there already with Cregan, talking and laughing with… Rhaena and Baela. Daemon was there, too, stalking in the background.

Fuck.

She took a deep breath, glancing to the dirt grounds where Aemond was sparring with Criston. 

Cregan’s voice echoed in her mind. They’re not your friends, not anymore. She pulled her stole closer to herself, walking forward. I don’t have any friends here. Except for Helaena, it seemed. Steeling her nerves, she made her way to the small congregation. “Brother, Jacaerys,” she greeted first, dipping her head. Cregan seemed jovial and in good spirits– he always was around Jacaerys and vice versa. “Lady Baela, Lady Rhaena.” she spoke then, trying to keep her quivering voice even. They hadn’t spoken since Baela had slashed her eye and attempted to kill her. Shera took in her appearance best she could– she had grown up, as they all had, but especially resembled her mother, Laena. Shera remembers seeing Laena’s portraits in Driftmark– and her statuesque coffin depiction before she was pushed into the sea. 

“Shera,” Jacaerys grinned, taking her hand– which she did not offer him– and kissed it. So gallant, so princely. It made her want to vomit. “It’s a lovely day today, isn’t it?”

Yes, it’s a lovely day, stifling hot in the hells. “... it could do with a breeze, mayhaps. But yes, quite nice.” she responded coolly. 

“‘Tis my turn to spar Aemond next– apparently he has been here since the crack of dawn with Criston. Do you think he’s getting exhausted yet, my lady?” Jace asked, guiding Shera to her seat and handing her a fan. At least he noticed that she was positively broiling.

She leaned and looked over the rampart to the skirmishing ring, where Aemond kept up his pace. “Since dawn, you say?” she asked, raising a brow as she fanned herself.

Aemond was using a shortsword, which seemed to be his weapon of choice against all others. Ser Criston was wielding a morningstar with spiked barbs around it. Her lone eye was entranced on the prince’s movements as he danced around his teacher, footwork impeccable as if he were simply floating across the dirt, whipping up hardly any dust in his wake. Shera wished she was a bit closer so she could see it better, but his movements didn’t seem to be exhausted in the slightest– he was like grebe skimming over the water, in his element. 

Criston raised his morningstar, twirling it before making his advance to the prince, to which Aemond did not move. Move, Aemond. Move! What are you doing? Shera clenched her fist in her lap and leaned forward even farther to try and parse exactly what Aemond’s plan was– certainly not to face a morningstar head on with a simple shortsword? She held her breath as he was within bludgeoning range of the flail, the chains clinking as Criston didn’t waiver– it was like they were in a real fight. Was he about to kill Aemond? 

She rose to her feet quickly, startled by what she thought was about to be a murder– only to watch Aemond roll deftly out of the way as the kingsguard’s weapon stuck into the dirt, lodged a few inches in by the heft of his lunge. This was a clear opportunity for Aemond, one he calculated so carefully. He stuck the tip of his shortsword through the links of the flail, keeping it pinned to the ground and hovered a dagger at Ser Cole’s neck with his other hand. 

“I yield, my prince.” Criston huffed, bowing his head. 

“Very good,” Aemond grinned– but it wasn’t a grin of joy, this seemed to be a recurring theme with Aemond– he smiled but it was nothing of mirth. It was simply a reflex, like a snake opening its jaws to stretch its fangs, one might think it was laughing. “Who’s next?” 

Shera realized the kerfuffle she’d made, her hand white knuckled against her chest as she stared at Aemond in abject horror, still not getting past the fact that she had been deathly worried about Aemond– even after the horrible things he had said. If Ser Cole’s flail had met the prince’s head, she would’ve jumped the rampart with Moongeist and mauled that sordid Kingsguard without a second thought.

She blinked, letting out a breath. Where did that come from? She was usually so well versed in her moods, as tumultuous as they could be. But this rage had snuck up on her, her blood boiling slightly. She glanced to her side, Moongeist was up and raring to go, as if sharing her sentiment.

Aemond wiped sweat from his forehead, finally looking to the ramparts. Their eyes met once again and he smirked. Smirked. It wasn’t a reflexive, mirthless smirk either. It was taunting, pompous. “Lady Shera,” he drawled, dislodging his sword from the ground and twirled it with ease, like it was an attachment of his own body. “You are dressed… brightly today.” he walked to the edge of the ring, looking directly up at her. 

Shera looked behind her for a moment– the rest of the party was occupied with talking with one another. She pressed her arms on the wall and leaned down. “I am. You are not.”

“When have I ever been?” 

“You used to like green.”

“Hm,” he snorted, wiping some errant dirt from his face. “If I were in a tourney, would you cast down your favor to me?”

“I thought you didn’t care for tournaments, my prince.” 

“I don’t.” he responded coolly, his eye trained on her so intensely. He was looking at something– did she have something on her face?

She realized quickly the air coming up from under her veil, the shorter one she wore today, and her angle. She was looking… down at him, and the veil stayed in place. He could see her face. He was looking at her, studying her like a book. Shera let out a soft sheepish noise, pushing back from the rampart and sitting back at her seat. 

She heard him laugh as he walked away to stow his weapon on the rack and pick another. He was laughing at her– surely because he thought her ugly. Wilting into herself, she adjusted her veil so that she might not have any more mishaps. 

“Jacaerys, I believe it’s your turn,” she murmured, fanning herself again, then fanning Moongeist.

“Ah, very good. Wish me luck, my lady.” 

“Good luck, Jacaerys.” she hummed. I do wish you don’t get your brains splattered in the pit by Aemond. I am not getting up again.

Cregan clasped Jace on the shoulder with such ferocity he almost knocked the prince over, walking down to the pit with him. Shera rolled her eyes and leaned back in her seat.

“So, Lady Stark,” Baela hummed, pulling her seat up next to Shera. Uncomfortably close. “Cregan is your brother, yes?”

“Yes, my lady.” she responded, trying not to sound annoyed.

“Forgive me– you two don’t look much alike, so I was just making sure.”

You cannot even see my face, how do you know we do not look alike? The last time you saw my face, you mauled it. “Cregan takes after our father more than I. I am more like our mother– or so I’ve been told. I’ve not met her.” she fiddled with her fur stole to ease her growing irritation. Add mother issues to the list of things I have wrong with me. Shera’s mother died shortly after her birth– all she knew is that she had copper hair. Their father had put away portraits and any semblance of her existence after– and never remarried.

Baela carefully sidestepped the issue of Shera’s mother, keeping her pressed about Cregan. “My stepmother says that mayhaps after you and Jacaerys are wed, she will propose a betrothal between Cregan and I.”

Oh, of course. Let’s have Winterfell all but indebted to dragons. “I hadn’t heard. Have you been North, my lady?” 

“No– but I imagine it cannot be any harsher than the roiling tides of Driftmark.”

Fuck you. “Having been both places– they are very different, Lady Baela,” Shera knew she was being short and not doing well in containing her agitation at this whole situation, being in proximity to her would-be murderer. “The North is harsher than any tide and is not the best climate for everyone. I do not think dragons fair well in the North,” she paused to breathe, her pace of speaking beginning to burn her throat. She was fueled by disconcertment and barely contained anger alone. “... that is what I have heard. Vermax loathes the snow.” 

“Well,” Baela kept a smile on her face. “Cregan is handsome, don’t you think?”

“I cannot say, my lady. I don’t really see him in such a manner— I am not a Targaryen, after all.” Shera said back, finally regaining some control in her voice. 

She heard Daemon laugh behind her. She fought the urge to turn around and sneer, focusing on the melee happening in the pit. It was well on its way and Jacaerys was… faring. She didn’t know how he was faring, but he wasn’t knocked out yet. 

Aemond was circling him like a wolf upon prey– a totally different technique than what he had done with Criston. He had let Criston come to him, rather than facing him head on. It was almost sickly how he was playing with him before the slaughter. There was a dangerous glint in Aemond’s eye that only Shera seemed to catch– did he mean to kill Jace? She remembered a similar glint in his eye when he raised the rock to Jacaerys’ head in the tunnels under Driftmark–

Aemond surged forward and steel met steel, their swords clashing together. Jace had chosen a shortsword as well, parrying his opponent’s thrust– barely. He knocked the white-haired prince back slightly, catching his breath. 

Once again, that sickly smile spread across Aemond’s face. “Tired already, Jacaerys? We’ve barely begun!” he continued his walk around his nephew, twirling his sword.

“Hardly, uncle. All you’ve done is dance around me. How about an actual fight, ey?” Jace quipped back. 

Shera had to give him credit where it was due. Jace was brazen. Taunting an already unhinged Aemond and being mayhaps a bit stupid– but brazen nonetheless. 

“A swordsman knows how to pick his fights and when to wait, doesn’t he?” Aemond’s eye flicked to the ramparts where Daemon was still looming. “Has your stepfather not taught you that?”

“You’re both talking a bit too much for my liking,” Cregan grunted, his hand itching on his own sword, which he had already unsheathed. It was the Stark’s ancestral weapon, a huge greatsword aptly called Ice. Cregan handled it with ease– Shera wouldn’t even be able to lift it. “Go on, Jacaerys.”

“Go on, Jacaerys,” Aemond taunted in a similar tone, his hackles raised. He looked slightly manic in the moment. “Let's see what your stepfather has taught you– if anything. I thought you were supposed to be strong.” 

Jacaerys raged forward, spurred by his rising anger. Their swords clashed again with such force that sparks flew from the metal. Aemond thwarted him off, pushing him backwards into the dirt, shrugging his shoulders. 

Despite being pushed down, Jace still got up, coming at Aemond again and again, each slash more sloppy than the last, but fueled with spite. His uncle continued to parry him, to push him, to sweep him aside with ease– it was a game to him.

“Keep your attacks focused, Jacaerys,” Cregan commanded. “He’s getting tired, I can see it.”

“I can go all day, Stark!” Aemond barked, his violet eye pierced solely on Cregan now as he thwarted Jacaerys’ heavy-handed blows without even looking at him. “Let’s make a wager, shall we? If your… pup here wins, I’ll personally pay for you and your troops to have a trip to the Silk Street– the best brothel. If I win– I get to take your sister for a ride on my dragon.” 

Ah, fuck. Cregan’s hackles rose and he shoved off his fur cape. “Don’t talk about my sister, you beast,” the vein in Cregan’s neck throbbed and Shera knew it would come to blows between the Warden of the North and the One-Eyed prince. “You wouldn’t know a real fight if it hit you in the face.” 

“Oh, please– now give me a moment so I can pummel your little pup into the ground and show your sister a real dra–” Aemond’s voice was cut off as Cregan punched him squarely in the face, right in his nose. Blood dripped from his nostrils and he then raised his sword to Cregan. “Fine.”

Their bodies tensed and Jacaerys saw the opportunity to walk away, thoroughly exhausted and not wanting to get in between the two of them. 

They were about to clash swords once more in a very real manner and Shera stood up from her chair hastily, opening her mouth to say something– but she was cut off. 

“Aemond!” an authoritative voice called from the rampart. It was Otto Hightower, hand of the King– and Aemond’s grandsire. “Forgo your petty spar and meet me in the Tower of the Hand. Promptly.” 

The mania in Aemond’s eyes and aura faded, snuffing it out once more– just like his rage at the dinner. “Of course. Good fight, Jacaerys,” he nodded his head to his nephew, then looked to Cregan. “Stark.” he uttered before spitting blood onto the dirt, wiping his bleeding nose with the back of his hand. He didn’t even look at Shera as he ascended the steps and followed his grandsire. 

“I notice you did not greet me, Lady Stark,” Daemon hummed as he loomed behind her. “Am I not worthy of your respect?” 

“... you were quite far away, Prince Daemon. I simply cannot project my voice that far, forgive me.” she droned, blinking profusely at the turn of events. 

“My nephew said he would’ve taken you on a ride upon his dragon– care to enlighten me what that might mean?” he continued, tapping ringed fingers on the stone barrier.

“I presume he would take me on a ride on Vhagar,” she muttered, edging away from Daemon. “He would find it hard to get me upon his beast, even if he won the bet.”

“I’m sure he would. Your brother has a temper when it comes to you, it seems?”

“All men have tempers when it comes to women in their lives, do they not?” 

“That’s true.”

“I don’t imagine you would wish your daughter,” she cleared her throat, eyes looking to Baela, who was speaking to Jacaerys off to the side. “To be absconded to the North. Nor do I imagine you’re entirely pleased at the prospect of more Andal blood tainting your line.” 

“An apt observation, wolf. Though, I am not sure the North is meant for northerners, either. Some people just do not belong anywhere, it seems.” 

Fuck off, old man. “I wish you a good day, prince Daemon.” Shera whispered, bowing her head, careful of her veil placement. She could feel his gaze on her, leering at her, trying to figure out what was beneath.

“Cregan– I am going to lunch with Helaena,” Shera tried to call down, but her voice didn’t project. He was caught up talking very animatedly to Jacaerys and Baela– Rhaena was off to the side, not saying much.

Shera let out an errant puff of agitation and left the training yard. She stopped at her chambers before going to Helaena’s– she took off the errant piece of flowing fabric from her outfit and put it on the desk. 

– 

Aemond returned to his chambers hours later after being thoroughly chewed out by his grandsire for ‘behavior unbecoming of a prince’. Is this how it felt to be Aegon?

His nose ached and he was sure that northern beast had broken it. It mattered not, it will mend. Most things do in time.

He began to unlace his jerkin as he noticed a piece of cerulean fabric on his desk, pinned with a note.

My favor, for you.

There was no signature to whom had written it, only a crude drawing of a wolf. He rolled his eye, picking up the fabric. It was soft between his calloused fingers and smelled heavily of lavender and rosemary. It smelled of her– he could absorb it even with his broken nose.

A tiny smile perked at his lips for a moment. ‘Twas a real one.

[whatevermakesyoubreak]

⚠️ MINORS DNI ⚠️

> sic infit

> pairing: Illumi x OFC

> ft. past hisoillu and chrollo x ofc

- ❤️‍🔥 Post-Hunter’s Exam, Illumi Zoldyck makes the most impulsive decision of his life, arriving at his home with a mysterious, money-motivated woman in tow— a partner, a colleague, and, if his mother had it her way— a fiancée.

Fellow contract-killer and Meteor City native Lira Vesuvian is charismatic, beautiful, and flirtatious— almost unnervingly so— possessing a dangerous vice, obsessive nature, and troubling background of her own.

Deceptive, disingenuous, and volatile, with her own family after her head, one might wonder what originally drew the typically asocial Illumi to her in the first place… As Illumi struggles to come to terms with and rationalize the strange feelings plaguing him, the two assassins contract with the Phantom Troupe— a job that stirs up past connections for the both of them.

Meanwhile, after meeting Illumi, Lira begins finding out more and more of her own family’s dark, twisted secrets— one of which being an unspeakable and brutal cover-up, that upon discovery, quickly ensures her and Illumi’s danger— with not only the corrupt Underground of Meteor City, a society fueled by crime, drugs, and blood money, but also, a righteous avenger hungry for retribution.

this fic includes, but is not limited to:

lust at first sight

powerful male character x powerful female character

bisexual male character(s)

obsessive, parasitic love from both parties

perpetuating generational trauma

two characters matching each other’s freak to a degree that is dangerous for the safety of others

psychopathy/sociopathy

doomed siblings

failfamily/families

hypocrisy

sibling rivalries

mommy issues galore

two hot, emotionally deficient, rich assassins making morally questionable choices

illumi zoldyck meeting someone just as creepy and unsettling as he is and proceeding to simp

substance abuse

dark themes in basically everything, but their relationship is as healthy as it can be given the circumstances

this will have a HEA. somehow. just trust me.

[sunnyie-eve]

8. Secession

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Series: Devious Opportunity

Pairing: (Aegon II Targaryen x Cousin! OFC Targaryen!)

Word Count: 1.5k

Notes: Incest, death, betroth offers, Aegon being giggly

| MASTERLIST |

The next day everyone gathers in the throne room to discuss the succession. As Rhaenyra, Daemon, the girls, and the boys enter the room walking to the front, Aegon looks over at her trying to hold back his smile.

"Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the secession of Driftmark." Otto starts off, "As Hand, I speak with the King's voice on this and all other matters." He adds taking a seat on the throne, "The crown will now hear the petitions.

Ser Vaemond goes first saying while Targaryen's ruled the skies, Velaryon's ruled the seas. That true unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through his veins. Rhaenyra says it's the same for her sons but Alicent cuts her off saying it wasn't her turn to speak.

Aegon sees the look she gave Alicent making him slightly smiling loving how she got when she started to get pissed with someone. He thought the little look she always gave was cute. She then gives him a look catching him so he nods his head as an apology.

When it was Rhaenyra's turn as she stepped forward the doors open to show Viserys showing up even at his worst for his daughter. Celeste could tell Rhaenyra was shocked but grateful while the Hightowers and Vaemond were just in shock.

Slowly but surely, Viserys made it to the throne and Daemon helped his brother up the steps taking a seat before going back to his spot. "I must... admit... my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession." He starts, "The only present who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys's wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.

She goes to speak saying that his wishes were to pass to his son's true-born son Lucerys and his mind never changed nor her support to him. She even adds that Rhaenyra informed her that she desires her sons to marry Baela and Rhaena. And that she agrees to the proposal given to her.

Celeste can't help but look over to the other side getting upset at what was being said making her smile a bit. With Aegon watching her, he smiles a bit too as they make eye contact.

With Viserys saying the matter was settled with Luke being heir to Drifmsark, Vaemond starts to snap, "That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine."

"Lucerys is my true-born grandson. And you... are no more than the second son of Driftmark." Viserys tells him and Celeste covers her mouth from laughing as Damon gives her a look.

"You...may run your house as you see fit... but you will not decide the future of mine." Vaemond starts to shake in anger, "My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned... I will not see it ended on the account of this-,"

"Say it." Daemon tells him wanting him to say it.

Vaemond looks at him for a good few seconds, "Her children... are bastards!" He shouts pissing off Viserys, Daemon, and Jace while Celeste holds Luke's arm as he looks concerned, "And she...is...a whore."

"I...will have your tongue for that." Viserys gets up but Daemon uses his sword slicing the top of his head off from behind.

Helaena covers her ears as Alicent turns her away, Aemond steps back shocked, Aegon made a disgusted face just like Celeste did, Luke had a shocked face, Jace had no reaction, and Rhaenyra, Rhaenys, and Baela were also a bit surprised.

"He can keep his tongue." Daemon looks down at the body.

"Disarm him!" Otto yells so guards pull out their swords.

"No need." Daemon says calmly stepping back as he did want he needed to do was over with.

The King starts to feel worse after everything and is helped out of the throne room. They start to have everyone else leave so they could clean up Vaemond's body to take away. Walking out Celeste and Aegon ends up beside each other but don't say anything to each other since Otto was right behind them. They could basically feel his eyes on them. Before walking out the door, Celeste secretly slips a note into Aegon's hand without Otto seeing.

Once he was alone he read the note that was saying to go by her room because the girls wanted to see him again. All morning they had been asking for him wanting to play. Celeste didn't understand why they specifically wanted Aegon but she told them maybe later he'll play.

"What is that?" Helaena walks up behind him.

"Nothing." He hides it.

"For Celeste, isn't it?" She smiles a bit, "If anyone looks for you, I'll say you went off somewhere wanting to be alone." She tells him.

"You'll do that?"

"Go see them." She says knowing about the twins from her dreams.

He was going to ask her more about what she said but she was already wandering off from him, "Thank you!" He shouts to her rushing off to his room to go see the three.

Getting to her room he makes a little noise to let her know he was there and hears her say it was just them so he goes in. "Helaena said she'll cover for me. She knew about the girls. Did you tell her?"

"I didn't tell her. Maybe she knows because she probably a dreamer." Celeste says knowing about them from story's Rhaenyra told her about.

"What?" He asks confused not knowing a thing about it.

"Some dragonriders can be dreamers. It's a type of prophetic dream or vision experienced by some individuals of Valyrian descent." She gives him a short summary.

"Is that why she says odd things at times?"

"Probably," She agrees, "The handmaids said she'll be waking up soon." She lets him know about Astraea sleeping while she held Dahlia who was still sleepy.

"I'm not surprised my father showed up for Rhaenyra. I was hoping he would actually because the Hand wouldn't let Luke keep his inheritance." Aegon goes to take a seat on the sofa.

"Speaking of Rhaenyra... She told me before I went to bed last night. You said she'll make a good Queen." Celeste follows taking a seat as well. As soon as she sat down, Dahlia left her lap going over to Aegon so he could hold her.

He chuckled picking her up, "I did and we made amends as well." He tells her as Dahlia cuddles into him falling back to sleep, "Our talk was nice. For the first time ever we were siblings. I did not know how much I needed that from her. Her words helped me think about some things."

"I'm glad to hear such a thing. Mostly on your half." She tells him as Astraea wakes up.

"You're here!" She runs over to Aegon causing him to laugh quietly because of Dahlia.

"I'll put her back in bed." Celeste gets up taking her from him.

"Your mommy tells me you and Dahlia wanted me to play with you girls?" He leans forward with a smile talking to her and she nods her head quickly, "Let's play then." She grabs his hand leading him over to her toys.

Celeste was surprised by how well Aegon was with Astraea but then again he was still very childish himself. He proved that in the way he played with the dragon figures making noises for them.

After sometime there was a knock at the door as it starts to open Otto announces himself to let her know before coming in all the way. As soon as Aegon heard his voice he rushed to hide in the room.

"Yes?" Celeste turns to face him as Astraea gets up making her way over to where Aegon hid.

He puts his finger over his mouth to tell her to be quiet making her giggle. Otto looks over in the direction but he couldn't see due to the panel blocking the bed area where Aegon was hiding in a corner next to a cabinet.

"She often does that. Running away from strangers giggling." Celeste lies, "You came for?" She asks.

"The King has requested that tonight the family all eats together. Of course, excluding the younger ones."

"Thank you for letting me know." She smiles hoping he would hurry up and leave.

"Mommy, tell Aegon to come play." Astraea walks over with a pout making both her parents curse in their heads. "Not long ago, Jace and I were taking about everyone's reaction to what happened with Vaemond. She must have heard his name. Anytime she hears a new name she wants to play with that said person." Celeste makes up another lie on the spot, "Especially when she doesn't know that person."

Otto nods his head, "Speaking of my grandson, have you seen him around?"

"Not since we left the throne room." She lies, "I don't have much time to wonder about the Red Keep. My priorities are my daughters."

He says he understands before leaving her so Aegon comes out of hiding, "Some help you were." He grabs Astraea picking her up spinning around with her causing her to giggle.

[kyoaeri]

──★ ˙ ̟ 🐰 enha as angst tropes !

this is part 2 of my enha as love tropes post <33

tw ( ? ) mentions of hospitals / major injuries in jake’s , but nothing graphic ofc

heeseung : right person , wrong time

you loved heeseung , so much that you couldn’t think of life without him until you were forced to . his things were still strewn around your apartment the day after he said goodbye , when you woke up to an empty bed and a piece of paper with only a hastily scrawled i’m sorry , goodbye . the time you had together wasn’t enough , but you can’t ever let go of it , the memories lingering in your dreams , a constant reminder of the love you lost. you’ll see him again someday , happy with someone else , and you’ll mourn the love you could’ve had , had you met him at a different time.

jay : villain x hero

you knew getting involved with jay was a terrible decision , but you couldn’t stop yourself from coming back again and again , just to see him. his face , his hair , his touch haunted your thoughts , so much so that you found yourself in front of your superiors , harsh words being thrown at you . they stung , but not as much as the knowledge that you and jay could never be what you wanted to be , not while you were fighting on opposite sides . of course , you separated soon after , fleeting glances on the battlefield and his voice in your mind the only reminder of the love you once shared.

jake : memory loss

you were the first person to visit jake in the hospital after the accident , nervously pacing and heart beating a mile a minute . tears of relief pricked at the corners of your eyes when you were finally let in , only to find that he couldn’t remember you . you knew there was a reason ; the trauma he suffered to his head during the accident , but you didn’t care. in your mind , it would be deception to force him to love you again , so the best thing you could do would be to leave. so you do. you grow up and live your separate lives , but the love you still hold for him is strictly one-sided. you are the only one to carry the burden of your past love , one that will never spark back to life.

sunghoon : doomed relationship

you gripped your phone tightly in your hands , awaiting the text you knew would come. this was a rehearsed routine for you and sunghoon , having repeated it time and time again. break up , make up , you knew it was unhealthy but you just kept coming back. you truly loved sunghoon , and you hoped he felt the same way , but you two couldn’t help the way you fought , almost daily with tears in your eyes and anger in your voices. the love you felt for him almost outweighed the hurt in your heart and the suffering you endured every time you split up just to get together once more. almost. your phone lights up with a ding , and you swipe open to reveal the message you were expecting. i’m sorry , baby. i love you. you closed the app with a sigh , tears threatening to fall once more . you didn’t want to , but you would settle for this push and pull. you would do it for love.

sunoo : unrequited love

from the very moment your eyes met sunoo’s , you knew he was the one. it’s a shame he didn’t feel the same way. for so long , you pined after sunoo , wanting so tangibly it hurt , a debilitating , aching pain in your chest. you knew he wasn’t interested , yet you truly couldn’t stop loving him . it came as simply as breathing , it was the only thing you’d ever known. you were by his side as he entered and left countless relationships , knowing there was nothing else you wanted more than to be the subject of his affections , not his wingman. in another life , your feelings were reciprocated , but you would have to settle for unsteady friendship and countless heartbreaks in this one.

jungwon : time loop

the day jungwon broke up with you was a day you would never forget , because you couldn’t. for some heartbreaking reason , whether it was karmic debt or the universe’s personal dislike for you , you were forced to repeat what you would consider to be the worst day of your life forever . every day , you woke up to a message from jungwon , asking to talk . no matter how you tried to avoid it , he would find you and shatter your heart into millions of pieces , time and time again. you were no stranger to heartbreak , no stranger to shedding tears alone and the aching pain in your chest , but this was crueler than you could ever imagine . even just seeing his face , memories flood back into your mind of the perfect love you would never see again.

riki : miscommunication

you and riki loved each other so much , so it came as a shock to everyone around you when you separated . you really loved him, you did , but you couldn’t stop the feeling of inferiority you got whenever you were around him . he was so talented , set up for a successful future and a happy life . all you could do for him was bring him down , a sentiment you knew others around you shared , even if they didn’t say it . so , without even telling him the reason , you broke up with him . he’ll be thankful in the future , you thought. with me by his side , he’ll never be able to achieve his dreams. in the future , when you see him on tv , having achieved his dreams without you , you’ll never know the amount of tears he shed with your name on his lips , mourning the love you threw away.

[noctxj]

down, down into the mountain | part i

“and what is it that this curious little fae hopes to find hm?” 

the last dragon laena had crossed paths with had asked. his question had stumped laena, no one had asked her that before.

“… i’m not hoping to find anything.”

“the word travelling suggests you have a destination no?” he’d cocked his big head to the side whilst peering down at her from his great form.

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

in which the curious little fae laena exploring a long abandoned mountain kingdom (accidentally?) stumbles across a hungry dragon.

pairing: dragon!john price x fae!ofc

mdni. future adult content.

it was a devastatingly beautiful sight, the once ornate archways of a forgotten ancient kingdom now lay silent and still. carved into the side of a rocky mountainside, stories spoke of the impossible depths its original inhabitants had dug; always searching for more minerals, crystals, and gold to fuel their appetite for new knowledge and innovation. an appetite that would eventually lead to their doom; attracting the impertinent eyes of a dragon— or at least that is what is believed to have happened. almost a millennia has passed since then, the echoes of time notorious for warping stories of calamity into exaggerated fables and poignant legends.

however, laena wasn’t interested in times long gone. the concept of time and immortality was nothing to flitter about as one of the long-lived fae, only second to dragons themselves.

although as long as laena had been alive, she had only ever come across a handful of them. a secretive race who dedicated themselves to their own kin. 

wise. intelligent. and especially kind to her whenever she crossed paths with them. often mistaking her for being lost, having strayed too far from her clan. had offered laena refuge with them and their kin until such time they were able to track down her own, as it was rare for the fae to leave the comfort and protection of their own clans. instead each dragon-kind chortled in surprise and confusion when laena explained she was a lone travelling fae.

“and what is it that this curious little fae hopes to find hm?” 

the last dragon laena had crossed paths with had asked. introduced himself as nikolai, and was far more boisterous and reckless than any other dragon she had come across. his question had stumped laena, no one had asked her that before.

“… i’m not hoping to find anything.”

“the word travelling suggests you have a destination no?” he’d cocked his big head to the side whilst peering down at her from his great form.

another question that had stumped her.

“… then i am exploring the realm.”

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

nikolai had ended up accompanying laena for several decades, stated that she needed his “realm rich knowledge!”, even if she had been travel—exploring for a few centuries at that point. it was an odd pairing, but laena enjoyed the company, forgot how drawn into herself she had become, as if she was just a soulless spirit moving across the many plains of the realm. had forgotten the fulfilling feeling of connecting with someone.

until finally, fate decided that their travels as a “dynamic duo” (nikolai's words, not hers) had inevitably come to an end. nikto finally confessing his long-drawn yearning to return to his kin. laena had berated him for not returning to them sooner.

“you tryin’ to get rid of me, eh?” nikolai had drawled in half-hearted (fake) hurt. wiping away an imaginary tear from below his bright reptilian blue eyes for good measure while lounging back against a rock in his human— albeit intimidatingly very large, form. laena now use to his antics, just directed a flat look of annoyance at him.

“that is not the issue you big oaf, they are your kin. your family. they must miss you as much as you miss them. you should have returned to them sooner.” laena had snipped back. nikolai just waved his hand in response, an exasperated sigh spilling from laenas lips. sometimes she found it hard to believe he was several centuries older than her.

“i’ve always known i would return to them, child,” nikolai had huffed, interrupting her thoughts. the humour now absent from his glowing eyes— instead, sadness? regret? stained them, “i’d just hoped that whatever you are searching—i mean “exploring” for, would be found; that i would be there for you.”

laena hadn’t ever heard nikolai speak in such a serious tone. the sincerity of his words had caused a tiny pinch of sadness to throb within her chest, his words also resonating with laena. she already would miss him. she had secretly hoped he would be around for longer. 

“… so that I may rub it in your face that you’ve been playing treasure hunter, minus the map, of course”

never mind. 

this cracked out dragon could crawl back to his kin like a worm after laena wrapped his wings in some sticky vines—

“wait laena i was just kidding! hey— wait, no—!!”

laena considered nikto a good friend, perhaps even as an (overbearing) older brother. it had only been a few months since they bade each other farewell, errant tears had escaped laenas eyes as nikolai enveloped her in one of his crushing bearhugs. his cocooning scent of comfort and safety now just a fond memory.

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

standing in the middle of the vast hall with her back to the outside world, laena could feel nothing but the cool still air; the light of the moon and stars only illuminating a limited capacity before her. despite the ruin that surrounded her, she couldn’t deny the surviving details of grandeur reflecting a time long gone— forcibly removed from existence.

which begged the question of what this now desolate kingdom did to garner the ferocity of a dragon.

a curious thing… what did you do to deserve their wrath?

a hmph and then a gentle whisper of a simple command flittered into the otherwise quiet air. a beat, a low hum, and then an almost appreciative sigh could be felt all around as the old fluorescent minerals embedded into the walls lazily flickered brighter and brighter, until warms hues of light coursed throughout the space; down corridors and up stairways. the once desolate halls 

now able to clearly see, laena felt a delighted giddiness spread throughout her form, her wings fluttering in excitement at the prospect of exploring this untouched place. discovering what she may learn, what she may find—

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

what in the gods was that sound?

another great crack vibrated throughout as laena quickly swept under a slight alcove as dust and slight debris fell deeper within the mountain.

laena wasn’t sure how long or how far deep she’d travelled into the cavernous mountain kingdom, wasn’t sure how long it would take her to get back out.

this is definitely not ideal.

laena thought as she gritted her teeth, settling her feet onto the shallow shelf of the wall to properly ruffle off the errant dust that managed to land on her wings. 

perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad idea to get out now before she got smothered by rocks—

all of a sudden, a fleeting glint of bronze and gold refracted upon the corner of laenas eye, her attention now snapping down below to pinpoint the origins of the object

… but not before she figured out what that was, of course…

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

a poor lapse in judgement, laena later decides as her body is now seemingly frozen in place. a colossal figure—

larger than nikolai if possible—

was just a short distance away, encapsulated in shadow, a pair of bottomless azure eyes crackling with electric bolts of crystalline blue, regarded laena with an unchecked ferocity she wasn’t sure what to make of.

… those eyes—

the stranger pulled in a deep inhale, eyes fluttering and the expanse of his broad, bare chest expanding, holding, and then releasing— along with a trail of smoke, and the shifting of enormous bronze and gold wings behind hus figure.

a dragon, in their half-shifted state—

“curious little fae~” the unknown dragon purred, his now half lidded eyes trailing across laena’s form with a starved glint, “‘ave been waiting so long for you,” the deep timber of his rough voice akin to the rumbling of thunder.

… what?

for the first time in her long life, laena felt the foreign feeling of confusion and fear trickle down her spine. she was always sure of herself, knew herself to be capable in every situation. one doesn’t stay alive, alone, for this long without some level of preservation instinct and self assuredness in your own knowledge and skills after all, immortal or not. but this was different— 

felt dangerous—

felt as if she was the target, as if she was being hunted. but the question was: why?

“come now, no need to be shy,” the dragons rumbling voice interrupted her disoriented thoughts.

one side of his mouth quirked up in amusement, a sharp canine peeking from beneath his upper lip and surprisingly kempt facial hair. especially given his state of- or lack there of, of his dress; a poor excuse of navy blue trousers which had definitely been through the rigours sat lazily along the dragons' hips. the powerfully corded muscles which make up the dragons' thick thighs 

this condescending brute—

her initial disoriented state of the unknown now replaced with a strike of indignation as she narrowed her eyes at the stranger before her. 

“my introductions with most dragons don’t often begin with them claiming i’ve 'kept them waiting’” she snipped in a cool tone, as if what he had been spouting out of his dumb mouth up until now had been a waste of her time—

why in the hells was he smiling?!

an amused huff and then a hearty chuckle, the apples of his cheeks lifted upwards— fully showcasing the extent of his deadly canines, but also highlighting that while he was a senseless dragon, laena couldn’t deny he was also a devastatingly handsome one at that. feeling her own cheeks growing warm; from embarrassment or realisation, she wasn’t completely sure—

wait, what kind of thoughts—

laena, not right now—!

all of a sudden the dragon took a step forward— laena automatically taking one backwards, still wary of his intentions. a steadily growing rabid hunger prevalent in the dragons cerulean eyes as his breathing seemed to pick up, his eyes refusing to break away from laena’s own, as if the thought of losing sight of her would cause him pain. 

“afraid little one?” heaved the dragon, his form seemingly expanding in mass due to his heavy intakes of breath; as if trying to breathe in laena’s very essence.

not good.

as laena took stock of her surroundings; almost at the very edge of this walkway. she couldn’t hope to escape this stranger dragon’s grasp if she tried to take flight out of the mountain— impossible. she had to try and outsmart him in the tunnels below, even if she didn’t know what he wanted, she sure wasn’t in the mood to find out so quickly.

“never,” laena haughtily claimed, taking another step back; the edge of the rocky walkway now immedaitely behind her feet— a fact that made the dragon just a few metres away from her growl in discontent.

the volatile (handsome) dragon taking another heavy step forward, nostrils flaring.

laena wasn’t going to wait to find out his next move (despite his addictive disposition).

she took one final step backwards and let herself fall, the wind breezing through the delicate nature of her wings. the feral roar of the dragon following as she pivoted mid air and folded her wings tight to her back, the goal of escaping the seemingly dangerous dragons’ attention paramount, the cool air rushing against her body.

down

down

deeper into the mountain

the curious fairy and the hungry dragon went.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

tric’s notes

posting this while drunk bc might as well HEHEHEHE

this was suppose to be purely smutty, but i am a hoe for The Lore™ (• ε •) of anything and everything - including whatever this is hehe. also, not sure if its obvious but said lore is heavily inspired by the hobbit and skyrim? kind of. unedited as always.

thank you for reading!!! mwah ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

crossposted on ao3 (same username!) 

[the-common-cowgirl]

Chapter 1 - Intro

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x OFC (Anikyra Targaryen)

Summary: The Peaceful King Viserys hears word of a Targaryen Princess that resides in the broken stronghold of Valyria; which has since become an immature kingdom after of the doom befell their land. Feeling the tension between his house and believing the long night may soon come, Viserys proposes a betrothal between the Valyrian Princess and his second son, Aemond Targaryen, believing his daughter’s prophetic dream that the child born of this union will become the prince that was promised.

Warnings (Ch. specific): Mentions of murder and usurpation.

Word Count: 1600

A/N: AHA! First chapter of this rework done! Probably going to work on finishing The Lost Children after this unless this gets a lot of attention lol.

Masterlist

Dawn awakened over the vast land that once was the great stronghold of Valyria; now an emerging kingdom over the broken land. The red, hot sun greeted her on the east side of her balcony and the beautiful, bright rays danced along the pale, blue water of the sea that faced her to the south. The large, shiny, black castle, mounted on the side of a great mount of stone and soot, stood tall above the city. She could see the hustle of morning coming and goings of the smallfolk below her who now resembled crawling ants. She often sat high above them on warm dawns with her tea, wondering if, although their lives were harsh and rough, were they simpler? Were those people below her free in the choices they made or were they too, confined to a blind duty born of their station? Did they have autonomy over their beating hearts or were they too a prisoner in their own personal hell? 

She doubted it.

 She heard a door open in the distance behind her and knew her handmaiden was coming to ready her; she also knew the handmaiden would be bearing news in which she dreaded. News of the scheming of the King of Valyria and another King of a distant land. News that would be comparable to news of her own execution; at least, in her mind. She did not want to hear it but she knew it would come regardless of her wishes. So, she decided to muster up her courage, to take her cup with now cool tea and walk into her bedchambers to hear if this was the news her handmaiden would be bearing.

“Princess, a messenger has sent word that the Targaryens of Westeros have embarked on their journey here.”

The ‘False Targaryens’ you mean. 

She all but slammed her cup on a table, nearly breaking the fragile porcelain, angered by the audacity of these Westerosi to come here and believe they have any sort of claim to what was once their homeland. A homeland they were exiled from when Aenar defiled the name “Targaryen '' by gambling his riches awash then trying to make good on his debts by stealing his elder brother’s, Aelys Targaryen, dragon eggs. Aelys should have not only exiled him, but executed him. No, her ancestor, Aelys, allowed his brother to be exiled comfortably with his family, a dragon and a handful of eggs. After the doom befell Valyria,  all the dragons fell from the sky, burning from the outside in, and Aelys’ only daughter requested help from the Westerosi. She asked for Aenar to bring his dragons and help what remained of the dragonlords escape the wrecked ruins of what was their home. Aenar responded with a simple “Nyke ivestragon Aelys hen bisa vejes” [I tell Aelys of this doom].  So, desperate for help and to save the remains of her people, she took it upon herself as the last highborn blood of the dragonlords alive, she turned to head to Asshai…and the Taragryens rose from the ashes…without the help of the last of their kin.

“Princess?” Her handmaiden approached lightly and slowly; holding out her hand as if she were approaching a deadly beast that needed to sniff her first to know she’s not a threat.

“Yes, Tiah. I understand the words you spoke. I know they are coming. I’d be more content today if you chose to not speak of it. Is that understood?” She snapped with an edge to her voice she wasn’t intending upon. Realizing she was staring harshly toward her handmaiden, she softened her stance slightly and turned away to hide the outburst; lip twitching with residual anger.

 Tiah, she thought, only a year older than I but such a meek and foolish girl still. 

Her handmaiden took two steps back briskly. She held her head down and hands clasped behind her back. “Yes, your Grace. I will not speak further about them.” Like an obedient dog. 

The Princess, overcome with emotion of anger she did not want to process nor dim, yet also, feeling the need to apologize to her poor handmaiden who was only doing her duty in informing Princess of the updates that the walls of the castle echoed, decided to walk out to the balcony again instead of apologizing for her misdirected anger. 

Tiah is not the enemy here. Keep your head clear. Breathe. 

 After some time, the Princess decided to walk back into her bedchambers yet again, call upon her handmaiden, and ask for help dressing in a gown. She did not care which gown her handmaiden decided to pick, as long as it was light in this warming daylight and allowed her to breathe unrestrictedly. The day was hot and will grow hotter as the sun crawls higher into the sky. Tiah picked a thin silken gown that would allow her to stroll the castle on this day of summer without becoming faint. Emerald green silk with gold filigree embroidered on the sleeves and either side of her torso. It showed off a hint of her collarbone and she decided that it was an acceptable amount of skin to show to court. The Princess’ left hand slid along her exposed collarbone. Slender fingers caressing her soft skin. 

I will not become some broodmare for a false dragon. She reminded herself in the mirror. I am the true daughter of Valyria. The last true dragon of Valyria and I will not let the false Targaryens of Westeros feast upon my body with their eyes. I will not bend, nor will I break. 

 She thought of her mother and how she did not bend, nor break to her father’s whims. The beautiful “Light of Valyria” remained gentle but firm in her hold of power. How her mother loved her father deeply but it was her who sat the throne. How her father helped raise Valyria from the ruins and strengthened their fledgling kingdom, his duty born purely out of the love he held for her mother. Despite all of their love, duty, and power, they only produced a single child. One daughter. 

Naturally, being the “First Child of Valyria,” she would be the heir uncontended; free to marry whomever she wanted, regardless of status or power. If only the natural order of things were so easy to abide by. 

The day they revolted against her father, the King Consort, she had viewed her mother’s face for the first time for who she truly was: a monster. Only a monster would sentence their true love to death. Only a monster would marry the man who usurped her father’s place and allow him to stand beside her throne as her new King Consort. Only a monster would lie with the man who murdered her only child’s father and only a monster would give birth to the most precious being in this world. 

Her younger sister. Only four years younger but still so very wise and kind. The only person in this world whom Anikyra has ever had to love and cherish. The only one who had ever claimed to love her and didn’t abandon her for the sweet taste of death. The young Princess Scilia was the very image of their mother. Pale hair, purple eyes, touched by the dawn and the light above. She always wore light colors as well; an homage to her mother. The elder sister sometimes even thought that Scilia was the Sun itself; especially when times were dark and cruel. Many referred to the young Princess as “The Light Princess.” 

Those very people had a similar name for the elder Princess. A name she did not care to refute as she knew the truth in it. When she was born, in the month of the Sapphire, her father was so happy his child would carry a reminder of him, regardless how small. The midwives called it “touch of dark.” Her mother called it “soul of the dragon.” But the people of the great castle called her “The Dark Princess,” for the small patch of black hair on the right side of her head, intertwined in her long, thick silver locks.

Those names, those whispers as she walked the slick, black floors of the castle, they gave life to the fire burning within her. Gave life to the rage she felt. Gave life and all that is unholy to the plan she had laid before herself once she heard the news, fourteen years ago, that her mother had been taken out of the castle a month after the birth of the Usurper King’s first child, the child that sealed his place on the throne, and executed in secret by the that very man. By the Usurper, her Father-by-law. She may be the heir to her parent’s murder’s kingdom, but this kingdom will bend the knee to her and her alone. She will take her realm back by blood. 

She found herself in front of the massive iron double doors to the throne room. As they opened, the large crowd of the court turned all eyes toward her and dared not look away for even a moment, as they always had done. The masses watched the predator in the eyes of the Dark Princess at all times for sign of a threat, waiting anxiously for the day she finally snaps and ends the man who murdered the very couple who gave her life.

She began ascending into the throne room, straight toward the Valyrian Throne where the now-King sat and a voice called out before her. 

”Princess Anikyra of the great House Targaryen. First child of Valyria, Heir to the Valyrian throne.”

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[middleearthpixie]

The Ties That Bind ~ Chapter Four

Summary: Although Erebor is his once more, Thorin knows there is still a great threat to the peace of Middle Earth. Azog is gone, but another has taken his place and has sworn to finish what Azog began. Erebor is back, but it’s sadly lacking in protection and as much as he hates the thought of it, Thorin knows there is one thing that will guarantee the safety and continuation of his line.

War is coming and all Eirlys of Mirkwood wishes to do is fight alongside her brother Legolas and the other elves, united with Men and Dwarves in their attempt to quell the renewed tensions between them and the orc army of the north. But, her father, Thranduíl has other plans. Unite his kingdom with the newly reestablished kingdom of Erebor and use the power of both to defeat the orcs.

An arranged marriage that neither side wants, but both sides need. But what happens when the two sides realize that maybe—just maybe—being together isn't quite as bad as they'd thought...

Pairing: Thorin x ofc Eirlys of Mirkwood

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.8k

Read on AO3

Sunlight streamed in through the canopy and bounced across the bed to hit Thorin square in the face, waking him far earlier than he wished to be woken. He regretted opening his eyes as soon as he did so, and brought up a hand to shade them as he rolled onto his side to offer his back to the offending light. 

His bed was soft and comfortable, he was cozy and snug beneath smooth linens and warm quilts. But despite the comfort and coziness, Thorin’s mood wasn't a good one. He’d hoped that the previous evening would have ended with him realizing what a mistake he’d made in fighting Dís about marrying Princess Eirlys. 

However, after having met her, he was convinced their union would be doomed from the start. He’d expected her to be demure and reserved, to by shy and blush when she met his gaze. 

In short, he’d expected her to be a very different person from the one she was in actuality.

Perhaps it was foolish of him to assume how she would behave. After all, her father was not the most diplomatic of men, so why should she be? He was a fool to think she was anything other than the brash, lippy woman who seemed to speak her mind without hesitation.

Going back to sleep was impossible. His mind whirled too much for him to even attempt to sleep. So, with a sigh of irritation, he kicked back the linens and sat up, then slid to the edge of the bed to rise. 

The room was chilly, biting into his bared skin as he stood, then padded to his trunk, where he pulled out fresh small clothes, trousers, and a heavy dark gray henley. He was just buttoning his trousers when there came a knock at the door.

“Who goes?”

“It’s me, Thorin.”

His henley in his hand, he padded across the room to pull open the door. “Dís? What’re you doing up at this hour?”

“Same as you, I’d imagine. The sunlight doesn’t often stream into my chambers back home.”

He smiled despite his heavy mood. “You would be correct. I don't even know what time it is.”

“Not even seven, I think. May I come in?”

He stepped aside. “Of course.”

She swept by him and as he tugged the henley over his head, she said, “Last eve did not quite go how we thought it might, did it?”

“And how did you think it would go?”

“Well, I thought the princess would come back out onto the dance floor.”

He emerged from the neck hole of his shirt, frowning as he moved to lace the front. “Why? Dís, I think you expect too much, too quickly.”

“Well, she certainly didn't look happy when she left the great hall.” She offered up a long look. “Why might that be?”

“Why are you asking me? I assure you, I had nothing to do with it.”

“Thorin.”

“What?” He shook his head. “I didn’t.”

“She seemed all too happy to let me step in.”

“As I said,” he sank onto the edge of the bed to tug on his hose, and then boots, “you expect too much, too quickly. She is no happier about this marriage than I am.”

“Well, with the way you brood, I can hardly fault her.”

He looked up. “What is that supposed to mean? Dís, I don't know this woman. And yet you think what? We should have been sneaking off to find a darkened corner?”

She gave him a long look, then rolled her eyes. “There is a happy medium, you know. Something in between mortal enemies and aroused lovers.”

“There is no happy medium, as there is nothing there at all. I’ve only just met her, remember.” He finished tugging on his first boot, then reached for the second boot. “I know her name and that she says what she thinks and not much else.”

“Oh, from your tone, I gather you do not like what she thinks?”

“I do not care for what she thinks, no.”

“And what does she think?”

He didn't answer, but finished pulling on his boot, then rose. Dís stared balefully up at him, arms folded across her chest. “Thorin? What did she say that was so unacceptable to you?”

“I’m not having this conversation.”

“Thorin.”

“No, Dís. This was a terrible idea and we should not have come here. I should never have agreed to this and I am sorry that I did.”

With that, he turned and thumped out onto the terrace, where he braced his hands upon the railing and drew in a deep lungful of crisp, wintry air. There was no way to explain to his sister what an ass he’d made of himself by allowing himself to be overheard by Eirlys. 

But Dís, being Dís, did not take the hint and followed him out, wrapping her arms tightly about herself. “Thorin, what happened?”

He ignored her, staring out at the trees and foliage, all dusted with a layer of snow. Snow sparkled across the forest floor, where a path wound away from his terrace, and into the woods. Perhaps a walk through those woods would do him good, would help clear his head some, for he rarely had a chance to be alone in Erebor and even when he did, completely getting away from everyone often proved difficult, as it meant either crossing the plains to Dale, or going up behind the mountain, where Ravenhill was, and while he didn't mind being in Dale, the latter was also to be avoided if at all possible. 

“Thorin?” Her hand came to rest on his forearm. “What happened?”

“It’s none of your concern, little sister.” He slowly turned toward her. “So, let the matter drop.”

Her brow furrowed. “Did the princess insult you? Did Thranduíl?”

His irritation bubbled over and he snapped, “I told you to let the bloody matter drop, and I meant it! Now, if you’d not mind, I think I wish to be alone.”

He didn't wait for her to reply, nor did he think twice about the hurt that swept across her face, but instead swept past her to step down from the terrace and onto the path that wound deeper into the forest.

He didn't know where the path led to, but at that moment, he didn't much care. The last thing he wanted was yet another lecture from his sister. Dís meant well. She always meant well. But she always meddled and always overstepped and rarely realized it until he pointed it out. It aggravated him each time, but today he’d had enough. 

The blanket of snow muffled his footsteps, muffled the sounds of the forest around him. Every now and again, white powder filtered down through the treetops and more than once, a snowy owl swept overhead or a deer bounded across the path. The woods were peaceful. Tranquil. Perfect for thinking.

However, the way the path wound up and down and around meant that it didn't take much or very long for him to lose his bearings. In his irritation at Dís, he’d forgotten that one simple rule in regards to Mirkwood—it could and did muddle one’s mind and toss their bearings if one failed to pay attention to their surroundings. 

In short, he was lost.

A muttered oath rose to his lips as he turned about to first his left, than his right, only to see that everything looked the same. Each tree looked identical to the other, and so did the bushes and even the path looked odd. Snow began falling once more, and it didn't take long for his tracks to be obliterated by it. Still, he turned to try to follow the path back, only it seemed to him that it no longer ran in an east/west direction but now he felt as if he moved south. Or perhaps north. Without being able to see the sun, he had no idea which way was the right one. 

Still, he plodded on. Snow fell more heavily now, the gray skies darker by the minute. The temperature dropped just as quickly, and since he wore only his clothes and no outer garments, the chill settled into his body until he shivered even as he moved. 

How could it grow so dark when it was midmorning at the latest? He’d forgotten how Mirkwood could bend time until it meant nothing. Had forgotten how it liked to play games with one’s mind over all.

He wrapped his arms about himself as he stopped once more to look about. For all the good it did. If anything, he thought he might be even more lost now.

“Wonderful.”

Branches crackled around him. The hair along the back of his neck prickled. He whipped about to glare into the shadows. “Who goes?”

No response.

The wind picked up to whip through the treetops, sending even more snow swirling about him. He felt very much as if he’d gotten trapped inside a snow globe, only this was far more disorienting. His stomach roiled as if the ground rose and fell beneath his feet. Dizziness set it, slowly at first, but it took almost no time before the entire world seemed to spin around him.

He reached for something—anything—upon which to steady himself, but as he did, he stumbled. He swung out his hand to grasp whatever he could reach as his head spun with more force now and the terrible feeling that he was about to be sick surged through him.

The arrow came from nowhere. Whistled by the left side of his head, splitting the spindly tree  around whose trunk he’d wrapped his hand. A sharp sting rose in its wake, along his cheek, grazing the top of his ear to knock the heavy silver ear cuff he wore to the ground with a soft tink.

He staggered back, reaching for the sword that he’d actually left in his chambers, and let out a loud oath as he realized he’d foolishly stormed off unarmed. 

Another arrow split the air, only this time, he saw a flash of movement from the corner of his eye and as he turned, the flash became a person who, with a flick of a dagger blade, sent the arrow careening off to Thorin’s left.

“Are you mad or just a fool?”

He stared at Eirlys, who now stood before him, tucking a silver-bladed dagger back into its sheath. Unlike him, she was dressed for the wintry weather, in heavy-looking trousers and tunic and thick, fur-lined boots. Her white blonde hair had been drawn back into a heavy braid that fell to her hips and at the whistle of yet another arrow, she spun about with lightning-quick reflexes to knock it off its trajectory with the blade she’d just re-sheathed. Her movements were fluid and fast, as if she knew exactly where the next arrow would come from.

“Come with me.” She grabbed him by the wrist and jerked him forward, out of his stupor, dragging him behind her deeper into the forest. “We need to go. Now.”

“Where are you going?” He tried to tug his arm free, to tug her in the opposite direction, but her grip was like iron and not so easily broken. “The path is that way, isn’t it?”

“No.” She didn't look back at him, nor did she slow down. “It is this way and you were a terrific fool to go wandering off as if you know these lands. You’ve been here but twice and still haven’t learned, have you?”

That rankled him, as did her assessment of him as a fool, no matter how right she was. “I beg your pardon?”

“You are fortunate your sister knows you’re a dolt at times. One of those arrows might have found you, and then where would you be. Now, the guard has been dispatched and I am to bring you back to the palace, but if you’d rather die out here…”

Embarrassment seared him from head to toe. “Lead the way.”

“I thought I was.” 

He fell silent, his gut churning as she led him back down a path that showed itself so clearly now, he couldn't believe he’d gotten lost and wandered so far away from it. He thought about tugging free of her grasp, but then thought better of it, knowing that if he did, the path would most likely vanish on him once more. 

“You know where those arrows came from?”

“I do, I think.” The covered walkway came into view and Eirlys slowed her stride, then turned to face him. “Orcs have been testing our boundaries, coming a bit closer each time.”

He turned to look down the way they’d come. “Orcs? Here?”

“They’ve been growing bolder of late. It’s part of the reason my father is so eager to marry me off to you. He fears they’ll grow brazen enough to simply storm our borders and swarm the palace.” A hint of resignation crept into her voice. “And he will not allow me to face them, as Legolas does.”

“And you think you could do so?”

“Of course I could.” She gestured to the dagger still in her hand. “I’ve been trained with both bow and steel and am just as skilled as my brother.” 

“That’s good to know,” he replied softly, carefully drawing his wrist from her grasp, “for then I will not have to worry about you being able to defend yourself, should the need ever arise.”

“As if you would worry.” 

With that parting shot, she turned and started back toward the palace, as he called after her, “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

She stopped once more, slowly pivoting to meet his gaze again. “You would?”

“Of course I would.” He closed the distance between them. “I am not a monster, you know.”

“Well, of course you aren’t. To suggest otherwise would be silly.” She cast her gaze downward for a moment, but then brought it back to meet his. “But you don't want this marriage.”

As her eyes met his, he was temporarily lost for words, for he’d never seen eyes as blue as hers. And when he remembered was words were, he struggled to make his voice louder than a whisper, failing as he murmured, “It isn’t personal.”

“Even so…” She held his gaze. 

“I would still not want to see any harm befall you, Princess.”

“Then it must ease your mind to know I’m quite capable of defending myself, as you said.”

He didn't say anything at first, but instead just gazed down at her as the maddest urge to curve his hand against her cheek, to see if her pale, smooth skin was as soft as it looked surged through him. Mirkwood casting its spell once again, no doubt, but the air crackled around them as she held his gaze, her eyes seemingly softer with each passing moment. His heartbeat sped up, but not in the same way as it had when he’d realized he’d gotten himself lost. No, this and the heat that seemed to swell within him had everything to do with the way she looked at him and with the sudden need to lean in and kiss her. 

“There you are! Where did you find him, Princess Eirlys?”

Thorin started, but kept himself from leaping away from her as Dís came hurrying down the path toward them. A hint of color rose along Eirlys’ high cheekbones, but it was gone so quickly, he thought he must have imagined it.

“I found him on the northeastern border. Just as the orc pack found him.”

Dis’ eyes widened. “Orcs?”

Thorin sighed softly. “I was an idiot for wandering off the path as I did. I should have remained close. A mistake I’ll not repeat, I assure you.”

“I think you owe the princess a show of gratitude as well, Thorin, since she went after you.”

He nodded, turning to smile at Eirlys, whose eyes were no longer so soft. “I do thank you, Princess.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t do it again.” 

With that, she turned and hurried off, leaving him there with a puzzled-looking Dís, who peered up at him. “Did something happen out there?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Only that she saved my sorry skin.”

“Really?”An impish smile accompanied her words. “Because I almost feel as if I’d interrupted a moment.”

“Well, worry not, because you did no such thing.” he told her, brushing by her. “Now, if you will excuse me, I am nearly frozen through and wish only go indoors and warm up by the fire.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” He strode back to his chambers, fighting to keep his mind from wandering back to that moment in the woods, when all he wanted was to kiss Eirlys of Mirkwood. 

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Divider by @cafekitsune

[dw19791967]

That Feeling Part 1

Pairing: Dean x reader (eventual), OFC Tyler

Warnings: language, unrequited love, angst, unwanted kissing.

Trigger Warning: This fic contains unwanted kissing, if that could be triggering for you I would skip out on this one. It is based on some experiences I have had in real life.

*All mistakes are my own!

Sorry for being gone for so long! Had a lot going on. This is going to be part one of a new series. I have no plan of when I am posting and I don't want to make promises I may not be able to keep. Thank you all for your support and love.

-Layla

____________________________

“And where are you off to this evening?” Dean asked me while sitting in the library. 

I went in there to grab my jacket. I figured he would be in his room or out at this point. 

“Going to meet up with a friend, you don’t know them.” I looked at him with a smile on my face. 

Ok, there is a good chance he is going to ask who, what, when, and where. He would never admit it but he was a little over protective of me as I was of him. He and Sam were the first people I had bonded with in forever when we had met two years ago. Sam was a loveable teddy bear, the big brother I had always dreamed of having. Dean….he was different. His cocky attitude, his smile, I knew I was doomed. I knew he would never see me as anything more than a friend so I hid my feelings deep down. I tried to find other ways to occupy my mind instead of dreaming of the perfect life with the older Winchester. That was hard. 

“How did you meet them and where are you going?” Dean didn’t look up from his book. 

“Well it’s a long story but we grew up in the same town and he knew I was living in Kansas now so he wanted to meet up. He’s in town on a business trip. I haven’t talked to anyone from there since I was 16 so I thought it might do me some good to see an old friend. We are meeting at the bar not too far from here but far enough.” I felt like I had to justify myself. Why does he make me nervous?

“Do you need me to go with you?” He finally looked at me. God those eyes. 

“No, I’m a big girl plus I have my knife in my purse if things go sideways which I highly doubt they will. He’s a good guy Dean, don't worry.” I grabbed my jacket and patted him on the shoulder. 

“Sweetheart I will always worry especially when I know you always try to see the good in people.” He went to stand.

I rolled my eyes. “I promise I will be careful, my location is on and you know I will leave if he tries anything.” I grabbed my purse and started heading to the door. 

He grabbed my arm. “Please be careful.” 

“You know I will.” I smiled at him.

_____________________________________________

I was waiting in the bar. I wasn’t nervous before but now I am. The fact that Dean was worried about me was nothing new but it gave me a weird feeling. Nothing bad of course, just a feeling that maybe he does care for me as more than a friend. 

My thinking was distracted when I heard my name called. “Y/N?” 

“Hey, Tyler! How are you?” I stood to give the man a hug.

“I’m doing great, damn you look good.” He winked at me. 

I smiled awkwardly, “Well thanks!” I moved to sit down again. 

“So how have you been?” Tyler asked.

“You know, same old same old, still same job nothing new going on really. What about you?” I suddenly felt nervous. 

“Oh nothing new with me either, hey do you want to get out of here we could drive around for a bit. It’s kinda loud in here.” Tyler moved to stand.

“I guess we can.” I moved to stand as well. 

It wasn’t until we were outside and getting into his car that I felt more nervous than I did before. He drove around and we talked for a bit. Then he pulled off into a field. 

My hunter senses were going off now. What is happening?

“Y/N” Tyler said. 

I looked at him, the next thing I knew he was kissing me. What the actual hell. 

“Please don’t” I said as I pushed him off of me. I got out of the car. 

“Woah hey where ya going?” He got out after me. 

“Listen I don’t know if I gave you the wrong impression or something but I was not ok with that. I thought we were friends?” I asked. I was holding it together fairly well and trying not to cry. 

“Well I just figured since we have known each other for a while now and you were kinda flirty in some of our messages this is where we were headed.” He smiled at me. 

“I’m sorry if I gave you that impression but that was not my intention. I would really like it if you could take me back to my car now.” I hugged my jacket together around me. 

“I’m sorry for doing that. I figured it would be no big deal to you.” He moved closer to me. 

I backed up. 

“It was. You can go, I’ll walk to the road and call an uber.” I am scared now. 

“Y/N please I’m sorry, let’s just talk about this.” 

“It’s ok, just please go ok? I’ll message you later.” I started walking towards the road. 

He got in his car and peeled out of there. Thank the Lord he left.

 Oh God, what happened? How could I be so stupid? Dean is going to be pissed at me.

I pulled my phone out of my purse. Dean had texted me. 

Dean: 

Why are you in a field?

Are you ok?

I’m on my way.

I sat down to wait. I never expected that to happen….

_____________________________________________

I had been sitting there for around five minutes when I heard the roar of Baby.

My head was down when he got out of the car. 

“Sweetheart?” Dean approached me slowly.

He knelt down to me. “Hey, what happened?”

I  broke. I leapt into his arms and began to sob. I am such an idiot. 

I looked up at him, “I’m so sorry.” I continued to cry.

“Hey hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. Look at me Y/N.” 

I looked at him. He had tears in his eyes.

“Let’s go home ok?” He stood back up. He reached his arm out to help me stand. 

We drove back to the bunker in silence. He held my hand the whole time. I had stopped crying at this point and went into auto pilot mode. 

We walked into the bunker. “How about you go get changed and I’ll meet you in my room, ok?” 

I nodded at him.

I went down the hallway and to the bathroom. I decided a shower was a good idea to wash away the shame I had. What girl doesn’t realize when a guy is going to come onto her, what girl freaks out when a guy kisses her. I guess this girl. 

I was drying off when I heard a knock on the bathroom door. I heard Dean speak “Hey I left your pj’s and stuff out here. I’ll head to my room while you get changed.” 

He was being sweet. Of course he was. He knew I needed him right now. How he could always tell, I don’t know how. 

I got changed then headed to his room. He was sitting on his bed, he moved over when he saw me and opened his arms. 

I laid down and let him hold me. I began to cry again. 

“He kissed me Dean.” I cried into his chest. 

He knew why I had issues, we had discussed that before. 

“It’s ok sweetheart, I’m here.” He kissed my head.

“I just don’t understand, we were friends, we had never discussed anything more. Hell, I've only talked to him for a few months now. I should have known better when he wanted to meet up randomly. God I’m an idiot.”

“You are not an idiot Y/N. You didn’t know. He’s the one at fault, not you.” 

“Who freaks out over someone kissing them, that’s not normal!” I looked up at him. 

“Y/N, it shocked you. You weren’t expecting it and he should have asked in my opinion. Especially if there was no hint of the night going in that direction.”

“I’m just crazy. No one is ever going to love me and at this point I don’t even know if I could handle it. I’m a mess.” 

“You are not crazy! Don’t say that about yourself. You are going to find the guy of your dreams some day, someone who takes it one day at a time on your terms, I promise. And if you are a mess, what am I?” He looked down at me. 

“You are my amazing best friend. I should have taken your talk as a hint of how the night was going to go.” I sighed. 

“You didn’t know sweetheart, and like I said you always try to see the good in people even when I don’t think you should. I was so worried. Especially when I saw you were in some random ass field. That guy is an ass and I would like to punch the son of a bitch in the face. I’m just thankful he didn’t try to do anything more. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you Y/N.” 

“I know Dean and I’m sorry. I am going to look into talking to a counselor. I think that could help. Thank you for coming, for saving me.” I sat up and kissed his cheek. 

He looked at me. Really looked at me. There it was, that feeling. The feeling of being scared about how much I cared about him. What scared me even more was how much I needed him. 

“I will always save you sweetheart, always.”

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 20

A Whimper

Rating: M - Minors DNI

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 2.4k

Warnings and tags: the shit hits the fan; mentions of Plan 99 (spoilers for TBB season 2 finale); angst; suspense; canon-typical violence (bearing in mind that in canon Mando cuts a dude in half, soooo... adjust expectations accordingly); references to torture; choking; blood and injury; character death; language.

Suggested Listening:

Summary: Echo deals with the fallout of Plan 99; Cerra has a polite conversation with the Empire.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings, "Double, Double Boil and Trouble" (part 2 here) and "Do It Again," but all the fics can be read as stand-alones.

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…Not with a bang but a whimper.

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

Echo sat motionless in the cockpit of the Marauder, staring blindly at the navigation controls. Tech was gone. They’d lost. And all of it had been for nothing. They had no way of locating Hemlock or his base—no way of finding Crosshair. Echo hadn’t just failed to bring one brother home; he’d lost another.

He mentally replayed those fateful moments in the railcar again and again. Could he have worked faster? Could he have done anything differently? Could he have changed the outcome? He didn’t know, and that uncertainty haunted him.

He turned to stare at the empty pilot’s seat. For an instant, Echo could almost see Tech there. He swallowed hard, pushing down the overwhelming grief that tightened in his throat, choking off his breath. His head hurt; his chest ached; his eyes burned with unshed tears.

Gonky shuffled into the cockpit and squawked so quietly that Echo didn’t hear him at first. The droid moved closer and honked a little louder, trying to get Echo’s attention.

Echo blinked and looked away from the vacant pilot’s seat. “What is it?”

Distantly, he heard a familiar rumble, and his heart began to race. He launched out of the co-pilot’s seat and sprinted out of the Marauder. He spotted the Venator hovering over Ord Mantell City and immediately commed Hunter. 

“Hunter, the Empire's here.” No answer came. “Hunter, do you copy? Wrecker?”

There was no reply; nothing but static on the comms.

Kark.

Cerra stumbled as the TK trooper shoved her into the corridor. She subtly tested the binders on her wrists, but they held fast. She fought down the tide of panic rising in her chest and tried to ignore the way her breath was beginning to spiral out of control. 

Exhale. One, two, three, four, five. Inhale. One, two, three, four, five. Oh, god, what if I never see Gregor again? Exhale. One, two, three, four, five. Don’t think about it. Inhale. One, two, three, four, five. 

She forced herself to focus on solving her immediate problems. First, she needed to get out of the binders. Impossible. Next, neutralize the trooper and take his blaster. He’ll blast me before I ever touch the deecee. Next, get to the hangar, steal a shuttle, and hit up the first Starcups she could find.

Piece of uj cake, she thought. Kriff, I’m going to die.

Her sense of impending doom only intensified when she reached the torture chamber—or rather, “enhanced interrogation room.” A stocky man in an officer’s uniform waited next to a table fitted with numerous restraints and an array of control panels and sinister-looking instruments. A tray of surgical tools and hypo-syringes sat next to it, neatly arranged. 

At least he’s organized. I’d hate to be tortured to death by someone who was sloppy.

“Agent Daivik, I presume?” she asked.

“Ah, Miss Kilian. So good of you to join me,” Daivik said smoothly. He turned to the TK trooper. “Take off her binders and get out.”

“Can’t wait to get me alone?” she quipped as the trooper unlocked the manacles.

“Hardly,” Daivik sniffed. “You are only useful because of the information you possess. Please lie down.”

“Aren’t you going to buy me a drink first?” she asked, rubbing her wrists to get the blood flowing to her hands again.

Daivik smirked, then his fist slammed into her shoulder and sent her careening backwards, the backs of her legs colliding with the interrogation table. He grabbed her by the throat and shoved her down onto the table. She kicked her feet desperately, but he pinned down her thighs with one of his legs as he forced her to lie flat on her back. She scratched and grappled with his hand that clamped around her throat in a vise-like grip.

“Ju—Ch—” she sputtered as her airway closed.

“Ready to talk so soon?” he snarled. “I’m just getting started.”

Nevertheless, he loosened his grip enough that she could speak.

“Choke me harder, Daddy,” she rasped.

He snatched his hand away with a revolted curse, and she saw her opening. She headbutted him with all the force she could muster, and his nose made a sickening crunch as her forehead smashed into his face. He staggered backward, and she seized a scalpel off the surgical tray and plunged it into his neck. Blood sprayed out of him instantaneously, spattering thickly over her hand, arm, and face, and she lost her grip on the scalpel as the hot, slippery fluid coated her fingers. 

Daivik’s pale blue eyes opened wide with shock, but he staggered toward her, his hands outstretched toward her neck. She clenched her hand into a fist and pounded the scalpel deeper into his throat, then curled her legs up and kicked him away with both feet. He lurched backward and fell, landing with a heavy thud. He went abruptly still as his head collided with the durasteel floor.

She leaned forward on the edge of the table, bracing her hands on her knees as she gasped for air. Her vision blurred, and with her clean hand, she wiped Daivik’s blood out of her eyes. The door hissed open, and the TK trooper rushed into the room. Cerra lunged for another scalpel, but before she could strike, she saw a flash of blue, and the trooper collapsed to the floor. A clone in gray and white armor stood behind him, blaster still raised. Cerra crouched in a defensive position, scalpel clutched in her fist. The clone smacked the control panel to close the door behind him, then lowered his blaster.

“You know, if you wanted to see me, all you had to do is comm,” he said as he removed his helmet to reveal a familiar scarred face and mismatched eyes: one brown, and one a cybernetic silver.

“Wolffe?” she gaped, her voice hoarse and ragged from Daivik’s bruising grip on her throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Saw you on the security holofeeds and thought you might need help.” He spared a glance at Daivik’s corpse. “Looks like I was right.”

“I had it under control,” she lied, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

“You were about to bring a scalpel to a blaster fight,” Wolffe said pointedly.

“Kriff you,” she replied without heat.

“Kriff me yourself, coward,” he grinned.

“Holocams?” she asked.

“Surveillance feeds are off for this room and the corridor outside. You all right?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” she asked, pulling off her jacket and using it to wipe the blood off herself as much as possible.

“You don’t look so bad,” Wolffe said as he quickly began to strip off the TK trooper’s armor. 

She moved to help. “Been better, been worse.”

“What’s your plan for getting out of here?” he asked.

“Steal a shuttle,” she said.

“I like it. Simple, straightforward.”

“Want to come with me?” she asked.

He shook his head as they wrestled the TK trooper out of his compression suit. “I’ll stay here and cover for you from the command deck.”

“You sure?” she asked doubtfully. “They’re going to suspect I had help.”

“I’ll stay,” he repeated. “I have… other duties to fulfill.”

He turned his back to give her privacy as she changed into the black body glove, then handed her the armor one piece at a time as she suited up. 

“It’s a hell of a coincidence, you being on the exact ship they brought me to,” Cerra observed.

“Sure is,” he said, not meeting her eyes.

“Almost like someone knew I got captured and sent you in after me,” she said.

“That’d be quite the twist, wouldn’t it?” he agreed noncommittally. “Good thing neither of us knows anyone who would do that.”

“Good thing,” she agreed as she settled the helmet onto her head. “How do I look?”

“Not bad,” Wolffe replied. “You might want to take this, though.”

He drew one of his blasters and offered it to her. 

“I’ve got his deecee,” she said, gesturing toward the unconscious TK trooper. “I’m good.”

“Trust me, you want this one,” Wolffe said.

She glanced down at the blaster in his hand, and her breath caught as she recognized Jesse’s modifications.

“I could only find the one,” he said. “But I knew you’d want it back.”

Her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard before she managed to reply, “Thanks.”

He nodded, his eyes sympathetic. “Ready?”

“Any time. It was good seeing you, buddy.”

“You, too, kid,” Wolffe said, sliding his helmet firmly into place. “I’ll see you around.”

“That a promise?” she asked.

“Clone’s honor.”

They stepped into the corridor, and Wolffe closed and locked the door behind them. With any luck, nobody would discover Daivik’s body and the TK trooper until Cerra was safely off the Venator. With one final nod at each other, they parted, Wolffe heading to the bridge while Cerra made her way to the flight deck. 

She forced herself to walk at a normal pace to avoid drawing attention, though her instincts screamed at her to run. Her heart pounded, and she was grateful for the helmet that hid her face from the Imperials she passed in the passageways; she didn’t think she would be able to disguise her anxiety without it.

The hangar was nearly deserted when she arrived—no doubt thanks to Wolffe. Nobody noticed an extra TK trooper in the shuttle bay. Cerra selected a shuttle, then quickly located and disabled its transponder beacon. Once she powered up the shuttle, the Imperials would know something was wrong. She would have an incredibly narrow window to get out of range of the tractor beam. There would be no time to program the hyperdrive navicomputer; she’d have to use the last inputted coordinates and hope for the best. She took a deep breath and boarded the shuttle.

Settling into the pilot’s seat, Cerra began running as many of the pre-flight protocols as she could before engaging the sublight engine. This is it, then, she thought, beginning the power-up sequence and maneuvering the shuttle out of the bay.

The comms crackled almost immediately. “Nu-class shuttle, you are not cleared for takeoff. Return to the—”

She muted the transmission, then punched the thrusters to top speed, blasting out of the hangar and into space. The Venator opened fire, but as soon as she was clear of the ship, Cerra jumped to hyperspace. Safely away, she yanked off her helmet and leaned back in her seat, gasping for air.

“I can’t believe that worked,” she said aloud with a short, incredulous laugh.

Riyo stared at the flickering hologram of Echo’s face, feeling as though all the oxygen had been forcefully ripped from her lungs.

“How?” she whispered. “What happened?”

“The Trandoshan sold us out,” Echo replied, his face grim and twisted by grief and anger. “We barely made it out alive.”

“Why would the Empire take Omega? What do they want with her?”

“I don’t know. That Imperial—Hemlock—he said something about Nala Se. He said she’s still alive.”

Riyo frowned. “Could she have escaped the destruction of Tipoca City? Halle Burtoni told me there were a few Kaminoans scattered throughout the galaxy, but she didn’t mention Nala Se.”

“If Nala Se is working for the Empire, that can only spell trouble for us clones,” Echo said.

“I agree. We should discuss this with Rex. When will you be back to Coruscant?” Riyo asked.

Echo glanced away, refusing to meet her eyes.

Her heart began to pound. “Echo?”

He took a deep breath before he replied. “I’m not coming back to Coruscant.”

She blinked. “... What?”

“I’m staying with Hunter and Wrecker,” he said quietly. “Omega is still out there somewhere, in Imperial hands. We have to find her.”

“Cerra is still out there, too!” Riyo protested. “We need you here! We need you—”

“Riyo,” Echo said gently. “Rex and the others are doing everything they can to find her. I trust them, and I trust that she can take care of herself until they find her. Besides, if I know Cerra, she’s already making whoever took her wish they were never born. But Omega is only a child. We can’t abandon her.”

He was right, of course. She knew he was right. But knowing he was right didn’t make the crushing weight in her chest feel any lighter. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She bit back the selfish words that sprang to her lips, knowing that speaking them aloud would only make things worse. Nevertheless, they reverberated in her mind.

I need you. I love you. Come back to me.

Echo reached for her through the holocomm, and she closed her eyes for a moment, imagining that she could feel the warmth of his touch.

“We will see each other again,” he said. “I swear it, Riyo. This isn’t the end for us.”

Without her comlink, Cerra had no choice but to use the shuttle’s communicator to contact Rex. Not only were the shuttle’s comms not secure, it was possible that the Empire was actively monitoring them. She keyed in the details for one of the team’s burner comm channels.

“Code kilo-three-two-seven. Scrapper to Monarch, come in,” she said. The minutes ticked by in agonizing slowness as she awaited a reply. When none came, she tried again. “Monarch, this is Scrapper. Please respond.”

The comm was silent. Fighting down her rising panic, Cerra ran a diagnostic to make sure it was functional. All systems were normal. She was just about to try a third time when the voice she loved most in the entire galaxy crackled through the speaker.

“Scrapper, this is Watchman. Good to hear your voice.”

Gregor. Oh, thank kriff. Tears of relief stung her eyes, and she hurriedly blinked them away as she responded.

“Back at you, Watchman.” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed. “Really good.”

“What’s your status?”

“I’m all right, but I could use a ride. Any chance you’re free for a pickup?” she asked.

“Affirmative. Head to delta-one-alpha-eight-two. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Copy that, Watchman. Fly casual.”

“You, too, Scrapper.”

Gregor ended the transmission, and Cerra let out a shaky breath. It was over. She was going home.

---

Next chapter

[loki-cees-all]

Chapter 3 - Then With the Eyes Shut {TLTGYA - Post-TVA!Loki x OFC Longfic}

Previous Chapter / TLTGYA Masterlist / A03 Link / Next Chapter

Pairing : Post-TVA!Loki x Oliviette (OFC)

Chapter Summary : Loki is trying his best to just ignore his new cellmate, but she’s really not making it easy for him. 

Chapter W/c : 4.7k words

Chapter Tags / Content : Heavy angst, again. Oops! 

Author's Note : Sorry this chapter is so late! It’s a long story, but I got kicked through a Time Door and was temporarily lost to time. Anyway - hope you all enjoy this chapter, and thank you so much for reading! 

18+ Only - Minors DNI

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Loki had never been one to loathe his own nightmares; he needed their reminder, and he craved the pain they caused. But the nightmares had betrayed him - forcing him into revealing his presence to his new cell mate, and so he was absolutely cursing them now. 

He’d forced himself to look away before responding to her query about escaping, and while he hadn’t directly witnessed her disappointment and confusion, he had felt them. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, Loki resented having to admit out loud that he’d rather stay there in that horrible place, that his reluctance to leave was probably going to damn her as well. 

She was an innocent bystander, someone who didn’t deserve the danger and chaos and death that followed Loki wherever he went. But he knew she was doomed the moment she entered his presence, whether they stayed or left. 

The woman had made several more attempts to communicate after he laid back down, and Loki had ignored every one of them. But he didn’t dare fall back asleep; he was bound to have another nightmare, and having another person there to witness its aftermath was just too intimate, and too much for him to deal with, on top of everything else. 

So he just continued laying on his side, his dark cloak pulled tight around him and his forearm curled underneath his head, and his eyes open but not seeing as he listened to the dungeon sounds that he had grown painfully accustomed to. The water droplets and distant screams were almost comforting at this point, but the sound of the woman’s quiet sobs and prayers for assistance were most certainly not. 

Loki couldn’t blame her for them, though - she had every right to be frightened. He could feel her muscles tensing up with every scream in the distance, with every footstep of the guards down the hallway. And for some reason, her anguish was much harder to deal with than the ones of his previous cell mates. 

He told himself it was just because she was the only one who ever knew he was there, and that he just needed to be patient for another two or three days, because eventually the guards would come for her. Eventually, she’d be put out of her misery, and Loki would be able to nightmare in peace once again.

Until then, Loki would continue to suffer while awake. Keeping his heavy eyelids open was an enormous effort, and shifting his position on the floor felt like trying to push cinder blocks against an ocean’s current. He never would have guessed that simply lying down would be so exhausting. 

Not even the rigorous warrior training he was obligated to endure under Odin’s guidance had been this depleting, and while he hadn’t necessarily been conscious during the horrors inflicted upon him on Knowhere, his body had still suffered tremendously. 

Just how long had he been awake anyway? There were no windows in his cell, no sunrise or sunset to witness, and mercifully, no clocks to mark the passage of time. That had been his favorite part about this place, back when there was nothing to look forward to and nothing to dread. 

It was peculiar that they hadn’t come for her yet. No one else, other than him, had ever survived for this long. What exactly were the guards waiting for?

Loki clenched his jaw and sighed in frustration. He didn’t want to ask questions - even to himself - and he certainly didn’t want answers; they just made doing nothing that much harder, and it wasn’t the kind of punishment he had been seeking in the first place. 

All he could do was remind himself that this was all temporary. He didn’t know or care if the universe was trying to offer or taunt him with a chance at redemption, but he wasn’t going to fall for it again. The opportunity - or the illusion - would eventually pass, just like all the other times he had tried and failed, and soon he’d be able to return to his nightmares.

For the most part, he dreamt about running; from himself, from truth and lies and pain and respite. From villains and heroes as they chased him down endless hallways with countless doorways. And whenever he stopped to open them, each one led to the memory of a time he could have made the right decision and didn’t - when he could have just not snuck the Frost Giants into Asgard, when he could have just stayed in the Void with his other variants, or any time he could have just not picked up the Tesseract - 

Loki gasped violently, and his eyes flew open in a panic - he had started to fall asleep again. He immediately froze in place, listening for signs that the woman had heard the disturbance. But she didn’t move or speak, and Loki was grateful for that. 

His lungs heaved for air and his heart thudded painfully in his chest as he desperately tried to calm himself down, and his jaw set in place as he forced his eyes to focus on the cracks of the stone before him. The most prominent one was deep, chiseled and eroded away by years of water and pain. Smaller cracks branched out from the primary fault, some above it and some below, just like the doomed offshoots from the Sacred Timeline. 

He couldn’t help but wonder - were those branches still being pruned? Or were they allowed to continue, drifting and splitting in countless directions with endless opportunities for variants of He Who Remains to come into power? To declare war against the others? To destroy and conquer everything in their sight in pursuit of their own narcissism? 

Before he knew it, his eyes were filled with tears. He hadn’t driven the knife into He Who Remains, but he might as well have. The failure was on him, and the countless lives that would be ruined whether the TVA continued pruning or the dangerous variants were allowed to come into power was his burden to bear. His glorious purpose…

This wasn’t working - sleep only led to nightmares, and staring at the wall only invited rumination. His mind wasn’t in his own control, Loki’s muscles were aching and screaming for a change in position, the damn TVA belt was digging painfully into his belly, and as much as he didn’t want the woman witnessing his nightmares, he definitely didn’t want her to know he was weeping. 

Loki needed a different kind of distraction, and since he had no previous history with the woman, perhaps she could be the right kind. 

It was excruciating, but Loki did it anyway. He placed his palm flat on the stone floor and carefully pushed himself upright, his joints creaking and popping uncomfortably after months of disuse. Moving slowly and cautiously, and stifling multiple groans of pain, he finally managed to bring himself into a sitting position. He was still hiding in the shadows, still unwilling to expose himself, and he leaned back against the stone with a heavy sigh. 

His long legs were outstretched before him, one ankle crossed over the other, and his hands were folded neatly in his lap and underneath the dark cloak. Physical pain was temporarily assuaged, and he waited patiently for his green eyes to adjust to the meager shift in lighting conditions. 

It had been a long time since he had looked at this side of the cell, and not much had changed; the hallways were still sparsely illuminated with poorly-maintained lanterns, the stone walls were still grizzled and filthy, and the bars were still aged and corroded. There was nothing new to see, and nothing new to feel, and inevitably, his gaze migrated over to his new cellmate. 

She was still in the same position as when he had last looked at her, knees pulled to her chest and huddled against the opposite corner of the cell. She even wore the same expression of despair and anguish as before, except she had somehow managed to fall asleep. Her eyes were now closed, and she was breathing in and out slowly, and that was the only reason Loki felt comfortable looking closer. 

The woman’s fiery red hair, woven into one long braid slung over her shoulder, glowed in the lantern light; in any other conditions, her hair would have been stunning, but in here, it was just tragic. A long and thin chain hung around her neck, the links hooked together to support whatever gem or stone her fingers was wrapped around, clinging to it like it was magically going to transport her to safety. 

In that same hand, Loki could see she clutched the small blade of an unused dagger, its blade free of chips and jagged edges, and her other arm was hidden inside her dark cloak. 

Loki found himself wondering who she used to be before she was brought here, and what she had done to deserve it. He had always prided himself on being a quick study, an expert on reading between the lines of who people were, of what they craved - and more importantly - what they lacked.  

He was always able to use that skill to his advantage - but Loki was stumped with this one. Her clothes, black leather and dark green cloth, were relatively clean and well-tailored. The dungeon guards could be after money, but that seemed unlikely while her jewelry and weaponry were left untouched. And as far as he knew, there was no extortion happening in this place - only death, perpetuated by mysterious guards, who for all Loki knew, were simply doing this for fun. 

As if on cue, the sound of clinking keys echoed from down the hallway. Surprisingly, Loki felt no relief at the sound, and he closed his eyes to concentrate on the footsteps of her reapers coming to collect what they were owed; except it wasn’t the usual pair of guards moving down the hallway, it just was one of them. 

His brow furrowed, and his eyes cracked open just as the lone guard came into view and paused before the cell door. The guard held some sort of tray, balanced in one hand while the other pulled out a set of keys from his pocket and began to unlock the cell door. It was only then that the woman startled awake. 

She gasped in fear as she scooted back away from the door, pushing herself with her feet and trying to find a safe distance within the confines of their cell. She still clutched her dagger tightly, instead of using it to fight, and Loki, still hidden in the shadows, remained unmoving as the guard stepped inside and carefully placed a tray of food on the floor. 

Loki couldn’t believe it. After how many weeks and months, how many prisoners and deaths, not once had he ever encountered anyone being fed here. Not once had the guards kept anyone around long enough to even warrant feeding. 

In fact, it was the first time Loki had ever gotten a good look at any of them. The guard moved slowly and with purpose, dressed head to toe in black clothing that lacked any markings or indications as to who he worked for, or what their goal was. The mask he wore was flat and expressionless, tinted with ochre and had two thin cutouts for the eyes and none for the mouth. 

And even with the mask obscuring his features, the guard radiated animosity towards the woman as he lingered in the cell - as if he completely despised her, even as he was feeding her. 

The guard finally backed out of the cell and relocked the door, and the woman eyed the tray suspiciously, conflicted between wanting to trust the food, but not wanting to be poisoned either. She didn’t seem to notice the guard’s covered face turning as he moved down the hallway, still staring at her from underneath the mask as he walked away. 

Loki’s brow furrowed as he turned his attention back to the woman. She carefully placed the dagger on the stone floor and inched her fingers forward to reach for the tray, her green eyes still transitioning between apprehension and hunger in the face of the unappealing food that had been delivered by her captors. 

The tray contained a bowl of grains, soggy and mushy and almost certainly cold, and next to it sat a hunk of bread, the age of which was undeterminable. No one would ever choose this as a meal, but it was probably the only food she’d seen in days - and Loki, months. But her apprehension hung heavy in the air, suffocating him like the unanswered questions he was dying to ask. 

“They wouldn’t have bothered with imprisonment if they were going to poison you. Just eat it.”

The woman practically leapt out of her skin at the sound of Loki’s voice, like she had forgotten he was there. She shrank back against the wall, gasping for breath and scanning the cell wildly. “Oh, now you wish to talk?!” 

Loki’s expression remained impassive as he looked back at her. “Your unease was distracting. Just eat it,” he repeated coolly.

After a moment, she swallowed hard and nodded as she slowly pulled the tray closer to her. “Right, of course. Obviously poisoning me now would really be crossing a line…” 

The woman smiled sarcastically as she spoke, and the corners of Loki’s mouth twitched underneath his stoic expression. Maintaining a sense of humor under these conditions was an impressive feat - another item to add to his growing list of questions - and he decided it might be worth it to give in to the curiosity. It would be a temporary reprieve from the nightmares, and Loki knew they were still waiting for him - but they could hold on just a little bit longer. 

The woman cleared her throat as she carefully picked up the spoon with her right hand and dragged it clumsily through the porridge. Loki noticed that her other arm was still hidden within her cloak, and that her eyes flitted nervously between the dagger on her tray, her only weapon to defend herself, and the spoon, the only tool she had to feed herself. 

So they kidnap her, break her dominant arm…and now they’re feeding her…

None of it made sense. Clearly they intended to keep her alive - albeit broken - for a long time, but for what purpose? Loki hated that he wanted to know, that he couldn’t resist the puzzle pieces sitting before him. He had come here to suffer, not to play games, and yet he couldn’t stop himself. “Who are you?” 

The woman’s expression softened, and she looked towards him in the shadows. “My name is - ”

“No, I’m not asking for your name,” Loki replied, staring intently at her from the shadows and doing his best to ignore the optimism on her face. “Who are you to the guards?” 

“Me? I’m…nobody,” she laughed nervously as she twirled the spoon through the porridge. 

Loki cocked his head as he leaned forward. There had to be some explanation as to why they would go through the effort to capture but not kill her. “Then why are they feeding you?” 

The woman turned her head to look in his direction, her green eyes narrowed as they searched the darkness for his. “I don’t know. Why aren’t they feeding you?” 

Loki chuckled to himself; he wasn’t interested in answering questions, but he couldn’t help but admire the way she was dodging his. It had been quite a long time since he had found something so intriguing, and for a moment he almost forgot about the horrors that usually unraveled whenever he pulled on a thread. 

“I already know why they aren’t feeding me. What I don’t know is why you’re getting special treatment from the masked guards.” 

The woman’s expression shifted from irritation to concern as she set the spoon back down into the bowl. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten anything?” 

Loki wasn’t expecting the change in her tone, or for anyone to bother showing interest in him ever again. He looked down at his hands in his lap as they fidgeted with each other. “Why? What difference does that make?”

“I was just wondering if the reason you’re so moody is because you’re…hungry.”

He swallowed hard, baffled by her conclusion and consideration. Loki was hungry, that much was true, but he wasn’t ever going to admit to that. “That’s…completely irrelevant, I - ”

The woman cleared her throat to interrupt him, and he paused as his eyes slowly traveled upwards. She was holding out the chunk of bread, extending it in his direction with a benevolent smile on her face. “Share?” 

Loki’s eyebrows knitted together as he stared at her expression of sincerity and kindness, struggling to answer a simple question without an uncomplicated answer. Food wasn’t going to solve any of his problems, and yet the offer felt like a lifeline for a lost soul that had spent far too long drowning in sorrow. 

He believed he didn’t deserve that lifeline, but before he could answer with what would almost certainly be a refusal, his muscles were inexorably pushing him upright. They made the decision for him, as if their need for sustenance nullified his desire to stay isolated. 

Loki cautiously took a few steps closer, a massive effort for someone who had spent over a thousand days in the dark, but as he reached for the bread, the woman moved it just out of his grasp. 

“If you’re going to eat with me, you can’t go back to hiding in the shadows. Agreed?” the woman offered, a slow smile creeping across her face as she looked up at him. 

Her green eyes sparkled with the guileless amusement of someone who didn’t know what they were actually asking of him, and Loki was grappling with the urge to resist temptation, to fight the siren’s call of both avoidance and hostility over her simple offer of food and company. 

It was foolish, and it was going to end in disaster, and Loki couldn’t understand why he was considering it at all. The years of previous mistakes had led him to believe that he couldn’t be trusted to make the right call, that the last choice he had made - the one to stay isolated from everyone and everything - was the only good thing he’d ever done. 

But it was just bread, and Loki told himself that the conversation would just be temporary, and so Loki cleared his throat and set his jaw in place. “Agreed.” 

The woman smiled with an innocent sort of triumph as she handed the bread back to him, and Loki felt his heart skip a beat. It was nothing, it was just a simple gesture, one that he didn’t deserve - she just didn’t know any better yet. 

He pushed the feeling away as he settled back down on the stone floor again, adjacent to the shadows but not within them this time. The woman shifted her attention back to her porridge, and Loki, feeling exposed and unsure of what to do or say, focused his attention on the bread. 

He turned it over in his hands, studying its shape and color - round and flat and carelessly formed, with a dark and over-cooked crust. It gave way under the pressure of his hands, snapping in half with a loud crack. Loki glanced over, and the woman was smiling softly at him. 

These two strangers were sharing a meal inside a dungeon meant for horrors and torture and pain, and Loki had to remind himself to not get used to it, because the price for even the simplest of meals was always going to be regret. 

“So, what should I call you?” the woman asked before bringing a spoonful of porridge to her mouth. 

Loki tore off a piece of bread and put it in his mouth, chewing and swallowing to buy himself some time instead of answering. He was sure that no one here had ever heard of him, that saying his name wouldn’t set off any alarm bells - but still he hesitated. What if his reputation had somehow preceded him? What if he actually wasn’t that far outside of the Nine Realms?

A thousand other what-ifs swirled in his mind, and the woman was still waiting for an answer after sharing her kindness and food that he definitely didn’t deserve. Maybe his name would somehow cast a spell for all of his enemies to hear, and they’d finally be able to find him, and they’d make sure he never had anyone to share a meal with ever again. That was what he deserved. 

“My name is…Loki.”

He braced himself for the eventual fallout, like his shame would manifest itself into the monster he knew he was, but nothing changed. The woman continued eating, perhaps only finding the time it took him to answer strange instead of the actual answer, the water droplets continued falling, and the darkness in the dungeon remained stagnant. 

“And why don’t the guards bring you any food, Loki? Are they punishing you beyond locking you in here?” 

It was a very loaded question, one with a very complicated answer, and Loki wasn’t sure how to handle it. He broke off another piece and put it in his mouth as he weighed his options - on the one hand, he didn’t know this woman at all, or if she was trustworthy; clearly the guards thought her important even if they hated her, but what exactly was she capable of? 

But on the other hand - what did he have left to lose? 

“The guards don’t know I’m here,” Loki answered truthfully. It was so unlike him to unveil himself like this, and he didn’t know whether it was because he had spent too long wallowing in apathy and simply didn’t care anymore, or if he was so desperate for connection that it weakened his sensibilities. 

The woman lowered the spoon back to the bowl as her brow furrowed. “Wait - you’re hiding here? Why?”

Another loaded question, and he was really starting to regret answering them. He had come out of the shadows to be distracted, not to have someone question his actions or judgment. The woman seemed genuinely curious about him, but how could he even begin to explain himself, and what would be the point? It wouldn’t alleviate his burden, and it would only lead to more questions. 

“I deserve to be here. This is where I belong,” The words felt like acid on his tongue, and Loki sighed heavily, looking down at his hands as the woman processed his words with even more confusion. 

What am I - the God of Self-Sabotage?

Those words he had spoken to Mobius so long ago were intended to be sarcasm at the time, but it was still the absolute truth. It wasn’t too late to end this, to lay back down and face away from her again. It might take a bit longer than a few days, but eventually she would be just as dead as all the others, and everything could go back to the way it was supposed to be. 

But he stayed where he was, exposed in small slivers of light as he crushed another chunk of bread between his teeth. 

“I’m…so sorry, Loki. I cannot imagine how whatever you’re hiding from could be worse than this…” the woman replied, shaking her head as she looked around the cell. “Or how you could possibly find respite in a place like this…”

If she knew the truth, she wouldn’t be sympathizing with him right now, and Loki considered telling her about the awful things he’d done that had led him there. Just to get her to stop feeling sorry for him, to make her scared of him, to make her hide from him…because he was too broken to do anything else. 

Loki didn’t respond, busying himself with chewing and swallowing, and he could feel her gaze return to him before she spoke again. “Look, whatever you’ve done - it can’t have been so bad - ”

He wanted to believe her, but she was so very wrong about him, and his heart ached as she continued justifying what she had no way of understanding, the pressure of her reassurances constricting his insides and sending blood rushing through his ears. He could barely hear what she was saying, but her expression was kind and forgiving and it was too much for him to handle. 

“With all due respect - ” Loki finally snapped, interrupting and meeting her sympathetic expression with a fiercer, more intense one of his own. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t know me, and you don’t know what I’ve done.” 

The woman stared at him for a moment, her eyes widened in surprise, before looking back down at the tray in her lap. “You’re right. I apologize…” 

Loki shook his head as heavy silence descended around them. He hadn’t meant to be so insistent, but she was in direct contradiction to the torment he was deserving of. 

Tearing off another chunk of bread, they both chewed without speaking, unsure of how to continue. The air hung heavy, full of regret and musk and uncertainty, but he could feel the woman’s gaze shifting to and from him, like she wanted to ask him another question. He could only pray that it wasn’t about himself. 

“So, um…do you happen to know who the dungeon guards are? Or what they want from me, or the others?” 

Loki was unable to hide the snark still lingering in his tone. “How am I supposed to know what they want with you?” 

The answer to that question was what had initially drawn him out of the shadows in the first place, and he was vexed that she had somehow managed to turn his interrogation on its head so easily. 

The woman either didn’t notice his growing irritation, or was deliberately ignoring it. “And I take it no one’s coming to rescue you?” 

He sighed and leaned back against the stone wall. It was cold and unyielding, like the cruel fate he deserved, like the harsh loneliness he had felt his entire life. No one would have come to save him, even if they knew where he was. 

Somehow his cellmate seemed to understand that, judging by the forlorn look in her eyes. Loki felt raw and exposed, oddly juxtaposed against his desperate need to be understood - a feeling he thought was dead and buried a long time ago. Why was this happening? How did she do this to him? 

The woman moved her tray to the floor and stared intently at him. “Look, no one’s coming for me either, so we need to break out on our own. It shouldn’t be too difficult if we’re working together.” 

So that’s all she wanted - for him to save her. Loki ran a hand across his face, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. That was a choice she expected him to make, one that put her very life at stake, and more importantly - it would require him leaving in order to save her. His head already ached with the burden of it all, and that familiar dread of his previous captors forcing their own wills on him was washing over him again. 

“Plus, we have the element of surprise if the guards don’t - ” the woman continued, and Loki was now positive that she was definitely ignoring his trepidation entirely. Her expression was hopeful, and he couldn’t stand it. 

“No. Absolutely not. Absolutely not!” Loki seethed through gritted teeth, and his jaw clenched together as anger coursed through his veins. “If you want to leave, you’ll have to do it alone!”

Their eyes met, and she looked absolutely crushed again. He was sorry no one was coming to rescue her either, but that couldn’t be his burden to bear. He hadn’t meant to be lured into any sort of camaraderie, he just didn’t want to fall asleep again. And while Loki knew doing nothing was worse than trying and failing, he couldn’t bring himself to take the chance. 

“Look, I appreciate the meal, but this was a mistake,” he sighed heavily. “You’re better off on your own.” 

Loki shoved the final chunk of bread in his mouth and started to chew. And without waiting for a response, he lowered his back to the stone floor, resuming his position on his side and closing his eyes. 

He told himself he was better off without her too. 

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