#farmboy au

[starlightshore]

AU comic foundation (as I'm still planning it out).

A mix of "Danny is taken in by Aunt Alicia and not Vlad" and "Nobody knows" AUs. Jazz is still alive because losing your parents is already hard enough, I don't want Danny's entire life to be ruined here. That's not to say he isn't completely a wreck though.

After an incident, the Fenton kids and Alicia move to a little town named Amity Park... Surely nothing will go wrong here as well, right?

The comic will be jumping around and dealing with the mystery of what exactly happened to Danny. As well as some new, strange events that affect the town soon after his arrival.

Really, I just wanted to explore a Nobody Knows Au while making Danny a bit more harsh and edgy than usual, haha! I want to try something more dark and serious than what I usually make as well.

[inaris-mage-of-storms]

Chapter nine of We Have Taken Different Roads is here, beloved readers. And with it, we finally mark the Strawberry Wine series as Complete. :D

Jimmy pressed his face against Sausage's shoulder while he composed himself. False peered out of the tent, listening to Katherine call something across the way, then tapped Jimmy's arm.

"Time to get moving," she said. "Ready to get married, Sheriff?"

Sausage looked like he was already about to start crying, despite the wide grin stretched across his face. Jimmy took a deep breath, and False squeezed his shoulder.

"You've got this," she encouraged quietly.

Jimmy stepped out into the sun just as Scott stepped out of his own tent. As their eyes met across the clearing, Scott smiled so beautifully, and all of Jimmy's nerves melted away.

[inaris-mage-of-storms]

Sly this is incredible!! I love your line work and colors, it feels so melancholy and longing and fits the scene so well. I am in love with this.

Decided to illustrate this one bit from @inaris-mage-of-storms fic “Hide Your Heart” An absolutely wonderful flower husbands fic, def worth the read!!

[anakin-sleepwalker]

A lot of the art/headcanons I see for AUs where Luke and Leia grew up together are in agreement that Leia beats the shit out of anyone who's mean to Luke. Which I don't disagree with, but let's not forget how Luke absolutely whaled on Vader at the mere suggestion of turning Leia to the dark side.

My point being that both twins would be ready to throw hands with anyone who upsets their sibling (despite the fact that said sibling is more than capable of doing so themself)

[nastybuckybarnes]

Kingdom Fall  -  One

Pairing: Farmboy!Bucky X Princess!Reader 

Summary: When an invading Kingdom forces you to flee your home, you find yourself stranded in an enemy kingdom on a farm, and the farmboy is nothing like you thought he would be. 

Warnings: Violence, Angst, Fluff, Language, More to Come

Word Count: 2.1K

A/n: Gonna spit out part one of this royal AU because im a what? A slut for royal AUs. I have 7 parts of this written lol. I also have more DBF!Bucky on the roster sooooo yeah im excited for that. Also wanna work on a viking!Bucky X reader. I’m also working on a few one shots and teddy bear picnic, so I HOPE to do another 12 days of ficmas or something like that but I'll keep y’all posted

Anywhoodles, I love you all <3 

~*~

“They’ve set fire to the Palace! We must hasten!”

Screams echo from the Palace as you rush through the servants' hallways, your personal guard pushing people aside in his haste to get you to safety.

You mutter out soft apologies to the women you pass, gathering the base of your gown and hiking it up as you sprint after him.

“Come, I can smell the stables. This way!”

You run after him, slowing only when you see your horse.

“Hurry, Princess. Up,” Steve says, helping you up onto your horse and climbing onto his a second later.

“Now we ride!”

As if hearing his command, your mares both start sprinting away from the Palace.

Away from your home, your people.

A risked glance over your shoulder at the flaming building breaks your heart. But, what’s worse, is the group chasing after you and Steve on their own horses.

Following your gaze, the blond glances back and pushes his mare to run faster, desperate to get you to safety, to do his job properly without fail.

“Go, Princess!”

You follow his command, looking back again when you hear him slow his horse.

“Steve!”

With a yank on the reins, you guide your horse back to his, heart in your throat when you see him unsheathe his sword.

He’s sacrificing himself to keep you safe.

“Go, Princess! Now!” He shouts, holding his shield in one hand and a sword in the other.

“No! I won’t leave you!” You grab at your own sword and slide off your mare, stumbling against the uneven ground.

“No! You are of no use to your people if you are dead. You must go.”

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I won’t leave without you, Steve.”

He lets out a sigh and presses his forehead to yours for a brief moment.

“I will find you, Princess. This, I swear. Now you must go.”

“You will find me,” you order softly, pulling away from him and looking into his ocean-blue eyes.

He nods firmly, determination in his eyes as you climb back onto your horse.

“I will,” he promises, turning to the sounds of battle.

Your mare starts sprinting away, and only moments later do you hear the sound of swords clashing.

It takes every ounce of self-control you have not to turn around and fight by his side.

But he’s right.

Only the Gods know if your sisters survived, and if they didn't then you’re the only hope your Kingdom has.

You ride through the night, your mare expertly dodging trees and roots and running far away from the danger.

You’ve no idea how far you’ve gone nor where you are, when your horse stumbles on the uneven ground, launching you off of her back and sending you flying into the woods.

Your head smashes against a tree and you tumble to the ground in a heap as the world around you fades to black.

~*~

You awake with a soft groan, your head pounding and your body aching.

It takes a moment for you to remember what happened, but when you do you’re lurching upright regardless of the pain in your head.

Instead of being on the forest floor, however, you’re in a soft bed. The sky is not above you, instead a roof is.

You push to your feet and examine yourself, noting the lack of bindings around your arms and no pain between your legs.

So you haven’t been taken by someone who wishes to do immediate harm to you, but that doesn’t mean that they won’t hurt you at some point.

After taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself, you slowly open the door, peaking around before fully emerging.

You’re alone.

You explore the small house, keeping your breathing light and your feet even lighter.

It has one bedroom, a small kitchen, and an even smaller bathroom.

Your sword and weapons are all piled on the kitchen table, filling your heart with glee. With quick fingers, you slide them all back into place and hold your sword tightly, then head to the front door.

As you’re about to leave, with one hand on the doorknob, the door gets pulled open from the outside.

A huge body steps through the doorway without noticing you, and then you’re colliding with a hard chest.

“Oof!” You exclaim, nearly tumbling to the floor.

A study arm wraps around your waist, keeping you steady, and then you’re pressed against a warm chest.

“Whoa, easy! You shouldn’t be moving too much! That wound on your head looks pretty bad, you must've hit it hard when you fell.” He slowly drops his arm from around your waist and steps around you to inspect the wound in question.

“I cleaned you as best as I could while keeping you decent and your modesty intact, but I gathered some clothes that used to belong to my sister, and I need only light the embers beneath the tub. Now that you’re awake, you can truly clean, I’m sure you must want to.”

You stand there in the doorway, absolutely flabbergasted as this man drones on and on.

He must not know who you are, then, you decide.

“Here, I'll show you the way.”

You already know the way to the bathroom, but you follow him anyway, leaving a wide berth in case he makes a hostile move.

“Who are you?” You ask skeptically, watching as he keeps his back to you, leaving him vulnerable. He must know how many weapons you have, for he’s the one who took them from you. So why is he trusting you like this?

“My name is James,” he says with a small smile thrown your way.

You nod slowly, assessing him carefully.

“I am (Y/n),” you reply after a moment, waiting for the pieces to click in his mind, for him to realize who you are and try to kill you, but he never does.

“It’s very nice to meet you, (Y/n). The water should warm up soon. Linger as long as you’d like, I’m going to be in the kitchen making some food and a nice warm cup of tea for you.”

He leaves immediately after, pulling the door shut behind him.

You wait for a lock to click, for footsteps to barge into the house, or for some sort of fire to start, but nothing happens.

You wait for half an hour, each second ticking slowly in your mind, your sword held tightly in your grasp. Eventually, you strip down to your white slip and step into the warm water, a dagger held in one hand and a washcloth in the other.

Maybe it is an ambush, but if it isn't, you don't want to waste this opportunity to clean yourself.

Throughout the entire bath, the door stays closed and nobody tries to enter. Not once.

Once you’re finished, you dress in the clothes he gave you. The dress is a little snug, but a tug on the stitches fixes that swiftly.

It’s nothing spectacular, but you can move comfortably and even fight in it if you need to.

With a dagger in one hand and your sword in the other, you slowly emerge from the bathroom and into the kitchen where James is seated, humming softly to himself.

“How are you feeling?” He asks once he notices your presence.

“Better. Thank you.”

He nods, that gentle smile on his face again.

He rises to his feet and motions to the chair across from where he was sitting, then turns and walks to the counter, “the water is still warm. I wanted to wait to have my own tea with you. I have so many questions for you.”

You watch intently as he pours two cups of tea, handing one to you and then sitting back down.

You wait until after he’s had a sip of his to have a sip of your own, and when the flavour hits your tongue you can’t help but relax a bit.

“It’s my mother’s recipe. She used to make it for my sister and me whenever we were sick or upset. I thought... it might make you feel better. I can’t imagine how scared you must’ve been, waking up in a strange place.”

You want to tell him that you weren’t scared, a warrior doesn’t feel fear, but instead, you take another sip of tea.

“What happened? I found you lying in the woods near the creek, a horse protecting you. It took me nearly ten minutes to tame it enough to check you for injuries. Where are you coming from? Your clothes aren’t from Lornilla and I’ve never seen a woman carry so many weapons before.”

His waterfall of questions gives you a few answers.

Your horse is safe, no one knows where you are, and you’ve wound up in the invading Kingdom of Lornilla.

“I am... not from around here. I travelled a great distance, and I was thrown from my horse when she tripped,” you offer only that as your explanation and he nods, beyond curious but not wanting to push you any farther.

“Where am I?” You ask, taking another sip of the tea and looking around the small house again.

“Just outside the village. If you follow the gravel road there it will take you to the heart of Lornilla, though I don’t recommend a woman such as yourself going there alone.”

Your brows draw together, “do you not think me capable of protecting myself?” You question, your ego bruised.

His eyes go wide and he’s quick to try and explain himself.

“N-No! I just... they don’t treat women well there, is all. ‘Specially not women who defend themselves. You look like a strong person, and, based on all the knives you have, I don’t doubt you could defend yourself, but it’s dangerous to speak against men, even as a man.”

Ah yes, the patriarchal ways of Lornilla rage on.

You have to hold back an eye-roll at the thought of such a useless Kingdom treating women terribly.

But that brings you to your situation now.

You remember the smell of smoke and the sound of screams as the Lornillian army invaded your kingdom.

You know not if your sisters survived, nor if your mother did. But, knowing your mother, you know that if she went down it was not without a fight.

“Are you all right?” James asks softly, worry pulling his brows together.

Why does this random stranger care so much?

“Why did you help me? Why not leave me in the forest?” You ask, ignoring his question.

“You... you were hurt. I couldn’t just leave you there.”

“Why not? Anyone else would have. Or done worse, if we’re close to Lornilla.”

He nods, his lips pursed for a moment, “I’m not anyone else. I’m me. And I know that, were it my sister in your shoes, I’d hope someone would help her. You probably have a family... a husband... who would be terribly worried about you. I know that if I had a wife and she went out and were hurt... I’d want to know that there was a good person somewhere willing to help her.”

His answer surprises you and, as you look into his eyes, you see nothing but truth in them.

“I have no husband,” you tell him after a moment. “I know not if my family is alive. There very well could be no one looking for me...” your thoughts drift to Steve and your heart hurts a bit. “Does this change your thoughts at all? Knowing that you could do whatever you please with no consequences?”

A sour expression covers his face and he shakes his head, “It is not the consequences that stop me from doing terrible things, it’s the actions themselves.”

You watch him for a long moment, surprised and intrigued by him, his kindness, though you don’t fully trust it yet.

“If you do not have a husband, do you know anyone nearby? You must’ve been on your way somewhere, is there someplace I can direct you?” He asks gently.

You shake your head, a grey cloud darkening your mood as thoughts of your family fill your mind, worry tying a knot in your stomach.

“I... no. I don’t know anyone nearby. I don’t even know where I’m meant to go.”

He looks at you, at the way your shoulders slump forward slightly, your eyes draw down and defeat colours your tone, and he feels bad that there isn’t more he can do.

“You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need. I hope you don’t think I’m trying to make you leave. As long as you need, you may stay here.”

You smile gratefully at him, ignoring the stinging in your eyes.

“Thank you, James.”

~*~

[bon-sides-sw]

Just your Local Farmboy selling some peaches!

Lovely Commission done for @bluemilkstache Thank you so much for commissioning!!

My commission info here!

[thesuperiorfeeling]

[varian-is-the-best]

Modern AU Varian.

He's on one hand a scrawny, nerdy twig and on the other hand a country bumpkin who can push a tractor.

[wanderinguteruspress-blog]

It’s not getting better, Leo stop using that patronizing voice he’s gonna deck you

[klcthebookworm]

How is the BMFM/Trigun story coming along? How about the updates to Wars Are Won and Evil Jack? <3

Oh boy, my current events.

I got the edits finished on Star Wars: Rescue the Farmboy: Mission on Mimban and started posting it on Ao3 starting on Oct. 18. I finished up rereading Shadows of the Empire for Star Wars WIPs in the rest of October.

When November started, I started on taking my beta's edits to make the third draft of Trigun: Three of a Kind, which is the crossover with Biker Mice From Mars. And then on Nov. 6th, my father ended up in the ER with a brain bleed and seizures from that.

He's doing incredible well and is going back to short-term rehab hospital tonight. But I have only edited 15 out of 21 days so far this month. I was hoping to start posting Trigun: Three of a Kind after Mission on Mimban but it's kind of out of my complete control.

I have gotten Evil Jack: Till Death Do We Part back from my beta, so next up is making the third draft and then publishing. Wars Are Won: Sacrifice of Happiness, the first draft wasn't working so I had to start over giving it some conflict. And then I ran out of August.

When do I pick BMFM WIPs up again? Some months in 2025 that I haven't decided on yet. December 2024 was set for me to work on BookWorm's Library updates, which should be limited to cleaning up dead links and adding new stories. I don't think that will take all of December, so I should have free time to keep plugging at edits. But it all depends on real life not destroying my free time.

[lec743]

@s-s-ironnie This looks fun <3

AU comic foundation (as I'm still planning it out).

A mix of "Danny is taken in by Aunt Alicia and not Vlad" and "Nobody knows" AUs. Jazz is still alive because losing your parents is already hard enough, I don't want Danny's entire life to be ruined here. That's not to say he isn't completely a wreck though.

After an incident, the Fenton kids and Alicia move to a little town named Amity Park... Surely nothing will go wrong here as well, right?

The comic will be jumping around and dealing with the mystery of what exactly happened to Danny. As well as some new, strange events that affect the town soon after his arrival.

Really, I just wanted to explore a Nobody Knows Au while making Danny a bit more harsh and edgy than usual, haha! I want to try something more dark and serious than what I usually make as well.

[inaris-mage-of-storms]

As Scott woke up, he realized he didn't know where he was.

The double bed he lay on was warm and comfortable, and that was his favorite blanket draped over him. But it wasn't his bed, and, he noted as he looked around, it wasn't his bedroom in the manor he'd built with his own hands.

The colors in the bedroom he knew were rich and the fabrics luxurious, and a thick door and heavy curtains closed it off from the world. This room was bright and airy, and while still full of color, the hues were softer and lighter. The shelves on the wall were full of various trinkets and books and items, some he recognized from his collection and some he didn't.

Morning sunlight filtered in through gauzy curtains and warmed his skin. He climbed out of bed cautiously - he was in his own pajamas, at least - and peered outside. Grassland stretched out to the horizon, some hybrid of dry savanna and green meadow, speckled with wildflowers. A sturdy barn stood not far from the house, a vibrant wheat field built around it on one side and a paddock on the other. Llamas and horses grazed together, and a cat curled up on a fence post to nap in the sun. Flowerbeds lined the foundation of the house as far as he could see, and just below the window was a lovingly-tended honeysuckle bush in full bloom.

Scott didn't know where he was, but it was beautiful, and his heart ached with something he couldn't name.

From the other side of the bedroom door he could hear off-key humming, and the smell of pancakes and eggs and sausages was so strong he wondered how he hadn't noticed it before. The humming was familiar, and with a hesitant hope in his heart, Scott opened the door.

Jimmy turned his head and beamed at him, sliding a pancake from stove to plate. "Good morning! It's almost ready, just need to get the coffee started."

Scott stared at him, then looked around slowly. He could see his own handiwork in the window frames, and Jimmy's in the sturdy walls. He recognized his own stitching in the cushions on the chairs in front of the fireplace, even if he had no memory of making them. Those same chairs had been carved by Jimmy's expert hand, he was sure.

"What is all this?" he breathed.

Jimmy laughed. "Breakfast, of course! You seemed like you didn't really want to wake up this morning, so I let you sleep in while I finished the chores." A basket of eggs sat on the counter, minus the ones Jimmy had already cooked. A pail of cream sat next to the churn, ready to be turned to butter later. Right, he'd mentioned to Jimmy the day before that they were running low on...

No, wait. Yesterday he'd been...what was it he'd been doing?

"Where are we?"

Jimmy chuckled, and Scott's heart swelled at the sound. "Are you still asleep?" teased Jimmy. "We're at home, petal. We're in our kitchen." He turned off the fire under the pan and moved over to stand in front of Scott, taking his face in his hands and pressing a kiss to his lips.

Scott closed his eyes and melted against him. All the questions he had suddenly didn't seem so important, not while Jimmy was standing before him with such a happy look on his face. "Home?" he repeated, some part of him still hesitant to believe it.

"Home," confirmed Jimmy softly. He stroked Scott's cheek, and the only part of the touch that wasn't warm was the cool metal of the gold ring on his finger. "The home we built together, you and me."

Scott smiled and buried his face against Jimmy's shoulder, feeling secure in the arms that wrapped around him and pulled him close. "I love you," he murmured. "Gods, Jimmy, I love you so much, I - "

"I love you too." Scott couldn't stop the sob that tore from his throat, and Jimmy's fingers combed through his hair soothingly. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Did you have a bad dream?" He sounded worried now.

Scott shook his head and clung to him tighter. "How?" he managed to get out through the strangled emotions in his throat. "After everything I - "

"Oh, dear. Is that bothering you again?" Jimmy rubbed a hand over Scott's back. "I'll say it as many times as I need to. I love you, Scott. I forgive you. It's all in the past." He pulled back enough to pull Scott's hand to his lips, brushing a kiss over his knuckles that felt reverent. A ring identical to the one Jimmy wore gleamed on Scott's finger.

"I'm dreaming," whispered Scott. "It...this has to be a dream."

Jimmy laughed. "I still feel that way too, sometimes." He kissed Scott again, then pressed their foreheads together. "If it is, I hope I stay asleep forever," he murmured. "You came back to me, and I don't ever want to let you go again. Dream with me forever."

Scott smiled, basking in the love he felt standing in the kitchen of the farmhouse he and Jimmy built together. "I like the sound of that," he said, and Jimmy's smile was brighter than the morning sun. "You set the table. I'll start the coffee."

He couldn't remember what had concerned him so greatly when he first woke up. What a strange dream he must have had. But it didn't matter now. He put it out of his mind, smiled happily at his husband - his beautiful, loving husband that so easily forgave him for the pain he'd caused them both - and sat down to breakfast.

In Chromia, the morning sun was far less bright. It struggled to break through the thick fog that lay over the land, and the few rays that penetrated through were absorbed into the inky darkness of the sculk that crawled through the meadow and the fields. Scott lay where he had fallen the night before, and the sculk wound around his limbs in a grotesque imitation of an embrace.

He slept on, unaware of the boots that came to a stop in front of him. "Jimmy's over here too," called Shelby's voice from off to the side. "They're both still breathing. Do we...you know...?"

Sausage smirked and knelt down, brushing the hair out of Scott's face. "They're not a threat right now," he said, running a hand over a tendril of sculk that crawled up his leg like a pet asking for attention. "We'll come back once we've confirmed everyone else is neutralized too." He patted Scott's cheek. "For now? Let them dream."

Prev | series masterpost

[magickalsapphic]

We were both young (when I first saw you)

A Victorian Romeo and Juliet Snowbaz AU ❀ Chapter 1 Posted (2351 words) ❀ horseback riding, farmerboy!Simon, aristocrat!Baz, Davy sucks, gay people 🙏 ❀ pls read it & rb, i will post the other chapters asap fr

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59023879

It was already unfortunate for Lord Basilton to find out his most agreeable suitor was being accompanied by his family rival's long lost heir. But realizing Lord Simon Snow Salisbury is the same boy he's obsessed over for years is something he could've never have anticipated. aka a Victorian Romeo and Juliet Snowbaz AU inspired by Love Story by Taylor Swift. Where neither the Victorian era, the Romeo and Juliet references OR the Love Story references are accurate. Hope you enjoy:)

Chapter 1: Horseshit and Ball

BAZ

“Baz, Baz, Baz,...” I hear a small, high-pitched voice behind my door exclaim. I’m not ready for this day to start, but it doesn’t seem to want to wait any longer. I stretch my arms above my bed frame and then move the silk bed sheets aside. The sun comes in harder through the large window and makes me doubt the true nature of this fateful day. I walk to my door barefoot knowing my seven-year-old sister is on the other side.

“Mordelia, I’ve told you you don’t need to yell, you can just knock.” 

She opens the heavy door in a swift motion and starts visibly judging my surroundings as usual. It is the second largest room in the house, with long carpentry to match the burgundy walls and enough space to walk to the balcony. Mordelia always complains that the art easels cover the fountain’s view from outside and are uninviting to visitors. She stops at my tulips work in progress and I immediately know what she thinks.

“You should draw horsies instead of the same dull plants all the bloody time.”

“I’ll have you informed I enjoy painting this just fine,” I say while quickly picking up a small pillow from the floor and throwing it at her. She catches it, which is embarrassing, to say the least.

“Whatever. Father asked me to remind you of your extra duties today,” she says, referring to the activities he’s specifically made to keep me from running off today. “So thank you for… feeding the horses,” she says with a smirk.

“I’m not cleaning your horses’ shit, Mordelia.” 

“You said it, not me.”

She leaves my room as my aunt Fiona enters, messing her hair as she walks past her. I try to ignore her presence by picking up the pillow I threw on the floor.

“Quit being rude, boy. I’m here with good news about tonight,” Fiona says. 

I turn to her confused but she’s still resting her back on the door and crossing her arms.

“I’m helpless. What could you possibly have to say?”

“Well, a little bird told me you have a special girl coming to the ball tonight,”

I give her a look. I can’t possibly care who she’s referring to, I’m still not going to be attracted to her. It’s the same thing.

“Talking about Lady Agatha Wellbelove, of course.”

“And why ever is she so special?” I say turning my back on her again.

“Because she’s a nice girl. And extremely wealthy.”

“ We are extremely wealthy,” I say as if it wasn’t evident.

“Her father owns the West Watford slot.” Now this gets my attention. The Old families have been in a silent property rivalry for ages. 

It started over a three hundred years ago when the Salisbury’s came from the north and bought two-thirds of the Watford main fields. This ended up messing with the entire economy and social status on my family’s, the Pitches, side, which used to be the richest in the area. My ancestors tried to settle this by dividing the terrains more and not letting one family get more than the other. I don’t know who had such high hopes that rich old men would settle something logically. Instead, the Pitches tried to buy the land from them and get them a nice place out of town. To which the Salisbury’s declined, and tried to buy the last free slot. Aware of the fighting of the two most powerful families in the city, the mayor decided it was for the best that the lot stayed part of the State, meaning that both the Pitches and the Salisbury’s kept owning about the same amount of terrain. 

So, of course, over the years and different generations, we’ve kept this rivalry between us and have tried over and over to get the most land. Even though everyday workers and families living in them care just the same.

Agatha Wellbelove’s father, however, comes from a more nobel family, that has historically taken a bigger part in politics, which I assume explain their possession of the infamous West Watford slot.

“You’re saying that if I marry her, we would finally, officially be the most powerful family in this town.”

“Bingo. Your father won’t ask anything of you again. Pretty confident he wouldn’t even ask for heirs.” 

No children. I don’t mind children that much but this does mean I wouldn’t have to have any means of an actual relationship with her. I guess… if I offer some kind of yearly sum and a lot of horses, Wellbelove is known to be fond of those, maybe we could make that work. It’s the least painful option. For me at least.

“That does sound appealing… Why are you telling me this?” Her eyes soften and she approaches me slowly, bringing her palm to my cheek.

“I couldn’t watch you walk into complete unhappiness and not do anything kiddo. Not what Natasha would’ve wanted.”

———

I realised I didn’t possess an attraction to girls and instead to boys when I was 13 years old. Though, from a young age I never thought I was like the other boys around me, always so heavily… unhygienic, and interested in the most atrocious activities. Like wrestling or getting into unnecessary trouble. I enjoyed picking out flowers with my mother. The best ones surrounded our pond, she used to say, we were lucky to have this astounding beauty all around us. This wasn’t the only activity I enjoyed with her, though. She encouraged me to devour all the books in our library by accompanying me and explaining concepts I didn’t understand or simply talking about them with me.

My father has been too busy with taking care of the farmlands and ordering people around ever since I remember. My mother would take care of financial issues with him, she would say, but when I came about… She stopped caring about the money. She stopped caring about anything other than me. And I think–I know–my father resents me for that. I was “too needy” and “too emotional”, but it was never a problem for her. She stayed with me through everything. She was my best friend. I don’t regret a thing. The best memories I have are until the age of 12 for a reason.

I don’t remember much from her funeral. I spent a lot of time to myself then and the months after. My father let me be and I let him be as well. I rarely even spoke to my cousin Dev or my friend Niall, even though they tried plenty of times. After a while, I started to go out with them but didn’t speak unless it was essential. 

However, on the first anniversary of her death, I was vocal once again. Father wanted us to not make it a big deal but agreed we would go and leave her flowers. All I wanted was to give her her favourite flowers, lilies. We were already in my mother’s old home in Surrey, and when my father stepped out of the carriage, our servant handed him a bouquet of daisies. My father knew it had to be lilies and I didn’t care to hear why he couldn’t manage them this time. There was no excuse for this and I told him so. I didn’t set a foot in the door, instead ran past the servants, past the carriages, past the gates. Unknown destination. I just needed the flowers. I didn’t have any money with me so I went past the village as well. I didn’t want to be so far away from her, but I didn’t want to be near anyone. Anything. 

All I could hear was quick cobblestone. Then grass and grass. I finally stepped into a beautiful field, where soft orange tinted primroses, foxgloves, red tulips, wheat and corn, a dozen goats, and… this boy.

We were both young when I first saw you

I close my eyes and the flashback starts

He was kneeling down beside a bush, picking up orchids. He had a cloud of bronze hair, blue eyes, and a frustrated look on his face. I might’ve stared a bit too long, as he said without looking away from his work, “Are you lost?” 

When I didn’t reply he looked up and his eyes softened. “Are you okay?”, he asked. He must have noticed my puffy eyes.

“My… my mother loved lilies,” is all I managed before he went around the field and left me standing there. 

He came back a few moments later with a handful of them, even set in a beautiful way and tied in the middle with a small red bow. The sun was setting and his hair was catching fire. His eyes, his freckles. I barely mumbled a thank you before he was back at his work and I was on my way back to my mother. I didn’t bother finding my father and went straight to her grave. I gasped as I saw the tearful eyes of my father kneeling in front of the tombstone, daisies scrunched up between his hands and the ground. In silence, I joined him.

He might have forgotten many things in the following years, but he never forgot lillies on that day again. And I never forgot the face of the boy who made things okay. Even for a moment.

And I mean that. I thought about him constantly for months after that incident. I turned to painting to try to salvage those curls and those eyes. I never crossed paths with him again, I couldn’t remember which way I went that day. Part of me is thankful for that since I wouldn’t have known what to do. What he did make me sure of was that I liked boys. I liked boys and only boys. And I would never be able to say that out loud.

———

I conclude my unfortunate responsibilities of the day rather early, but with the new motivation for tonight, I am glad to have enough time to get properly ready before the party. The Watford Ball is a yearly dance hosted by the Bunces in celebration of the Summer Solstice, also the most popular dance for courtship. Most families take this opportunity to passively-aggressively show each other who has the most power, usually showing off their heirs and silently betting on who will be oh so lucky to marry someone part of the most powerful families—those being mine, and the Salisbury’s, but there is no heir in that family. While gossip over the years has changed what happened over and over, from my understanding of these internal family feuds, Lady Salisbury’s daughter left her husband and the family at a young age. And while many presume it was adultery, I’d like to give her the benefit of the doubt. Her husband was no other than Sir Davy Cadwallader. Sir James, Lady Salisbury’s son, never married, so they have counted days of their fortune if something doesn’t change. Cadwallader, however, has taken use of every centimetre to his missing wife's name, and he makes it known.

Vera, one of our servants, finishes buttoning my brown floral waistcoat. I slick back my hair and adjust the earth green bow. I stare in the mirror and curse myself for actually trying to look presentable. I simply can’t shake the thought of a mildly admissible future, and I won’t lose my chance.

As I walk down the stairs, my father calls to me.

“Basilton,” he stares at me and nods. 

I nod back, “Father.”

“Thank you for making an effort. I’m positive you will find a lovely young lady that will catch your eye.” He walks away. 

I really, truly hate that this is happening. No matter the promising possibilities. I close my eyes and wish for a miracle. A golden one.

At the party, I escort my aunt Fiona due to my lack of a partner. We walk down an overwhelmingly decorated set of stairs. A herald stopping us and naming every title we each have, before taking our final steps. I have always found these introductions quite silly, but they do make me feel seen. As seen as is possible.

The room is wide and I notice clusters of hats and thin waists, men and women hand in hand dancing, and a sharp smell of tobacco and bergamot. I wait near the orchestra for the sight of Wellbelove, watching as more and more young people fill the room. I take a glass of white wine from a table and sip on it slowly. I wait for my singular goal tonight. Enchant a girl. It can’t be so difficult, can it? I glance at my aunt from the other side of the room, where she’s talking with the Bunces. She mouths patience, Basil, as she notices me. I am being patient. I am just shit at waiting.

Too much time passes and I feel my lungs close off from the number of people that have arrived now. Everyone is talking and talking. I lean back against the wall and I still feel crowded. Wellbelove doesn’t seem to be getting here any time soon. I should start talking to other people, other girls. But every time someone approaches me I make the conversation as short as politely possible. I really am not in the mood for a party.

It’s way too late now. I notice all the Wellbelove’s are here except for Agatha. I walk over to them to ask where she bloody is, but I stop in the middle of my journey as I hear the herald speak loud and clear. “Lady Agatha Wellbelove, and her partner Lord Simon Snow Salisbury.”

I curse under my breath and I can’t believe my luck. I whip my head towards the entrance and every thought or action in my body disappears.

Blue eyes. Bronze curls.

“ Simon Snow ,” I mumble under my breath or lack thereof.

See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns

See you make your way through the crowd

[thiswasinevitable-rwrb]

A Princess Bride au makes so much sense for FirstPrince.

[bibliophilea]

tension (release)

Written for the @dpauzine. Special thanks to all the mods for working with me to get this story in the zine on time, and to @ecto-american in particular for being an excellent beta!

And thank you, SleepySpacey, for illustrating this work! All images here belong to SleepySpacey on twitter, deviantArt, and tumbl!

Contains: TUE Farmboy AU, Grief/Mourning, Alicia POV, Alicia and Danny bonding, Danny being a bit of a cryptid, Flynn mention

ao3 | ffn

“I’m not okay! I will never be okay!”

The outburst is sudden. Explosive. Like the kid’s been holding it in for far too long. Alicia has known this was coming — saw it in the tension in the boy’s shoulders, in the redness of his eyes, in the way he never smiled and never cried and was always terse around her — and yet. And yet. She is not prepared for it.

“You — you don’t get it! You’re strong, and you’re tough, and I’m — I’m not, I’m just not, okay?!” His voice cracks, but the floodgates are open now. Alicia doesn’t think he can stop, even if he wants to. “You’re fine, ‘cause you’re you, and you’re always fine! I can’t — I can’t do that, okay?!”

He glares at her, and oh, he looks just like Maddie. When their momma died, Alicia needed to be strong enough for the both of them, strong enough to carry them through, and Maddie, she cried and cried, but she got angry, and she glared so hard, too hard and too old and it broke Alicia’s heart to see it. Maddie bellowed — Don’t you care?! — and Alicia couldn’t say anything because of course she cared but she had to be strong and she had to be tough and she had to keep going and couldn’t let it get to her and Maddie screamed something fierce, screamed so loud and so long it was amazing her tiny body didn’t give out, she was so small —

Just like her little boy.

He’s so small.

*~*~*

Alicia needs to find him.

He doesn’t know these woods — probably doesn’t know any woods, and that bit of scrub Amity Park calls conservation doesn’t count. This isn’t some patch of green in the middle of a city where the most you’ll see is a stray cat. This is rural. This is wilderness and farmland, where the nearest anything is two miles away.

And this is nighttime. No local would dare go out at night. Alicia more than anyone knows why. Her city slicker fool of a nephew doesn’t stand a chance out there. And like hell she’s gonna just stand by and wait for it to happen. She ain’t giving up the only family she has left to the woods without a fight.

But she’ll be damned if she doesn’t go out there prepared.

*~*~*

“Danny!”

Alicia knows it’s foolish to call out his name like that. She knows it might not be Danny that answers.

But she’s at a loss.

His tracks should have been easy to follow — and they were, for a time. Danny may be smart, but he’s a city kid. He never learned how to hide his tracks the way Alicia and Maddie had growing up in the backwoods of Arkansas. Never learned to pass through these woods without a sign, like the ghosts in the stories Alicia’s momma liked to tell her and Maddie before she died. Never learned to navigate any woods, Alicia reckons, without help from his mom.

But his tracks disappear.

They stop abruptly, in a small clearing, not too far from the fairy circle she hasn’t had the chance to warn him about because he’s hardly ventured off the farm, let alone this far into the woods and —

She takes a breath, and she realizes she’d been holding it for the past minute. Calm down, Alicia. Panicking here won’t do anything but make her lose him for good. And she can’t have that. She won’t have that. Not again.

She takes another breath, steadying herself, and scans her flashlight over the tracks she can see.

Danny had broken through several branches and a thicket of thorns to get here — then fallen to the ground. Probably tripped on one of the roots that arched just above the dirt, hard to see those in the moonlight. She winces in sympathy — a fall like that would leave a mark.

But even so, he had gotten back up again. She sees it clearly in the footprints that follow the fall — stumbling at first, but they grow stronger as they push on into the clearing. The final tracks he left are the clearest — deep footprints facing the other side, the faded treads of his sneakers’ soles pressed firmly into the soil. It’s like he had jumped into the air.

But there’s no sign of where he landed. No hint of where gravity could have pulled him back down to Earth.

Like the moment his feet left the ground, he had disappeared.

Just like —

No.

She wouldn’t think it.

Not here, out in the wilderness at night, where anything could breathe life into those very thoughts.

Not now, when the only family she has left is all alone out here.

But how is she supposed to find him?

Alicia stands up straight, grimacing in frustration at the pop of her back. She’s getting old. Too old to be out at night searching for her fool of a nephew. Not that she’s any wiser, when she’s the one who drove him away.

She takes a deep breath to call Danny’s name again — then chokes on her voice as a wail brutally murders the silence of the night.

The wail — she can’t call it anything else, the way its cries linger in the air — howls through the night, making the hairs rise on the back of her neck and setting her teeth on edge. It echoes over itself, multiplying into a cacophony of moans and keens and shrieks — voices of the damned, screaming in agony and grief.

And before she can think, she finds herself sprinting towards the ghastly sound, gritting her teeth as it grates at her ears and pierces her soul. But she can’t give up, can’t slow down, can’t — can’t think as the wail fills her head and pounds against the inside of her skull —

Only one thought breaks through the cacophony, tolling like a funeral bell, pushing her to move faster, to get there before she’s lost him forever.

Not again.

Not again.

Not again.

*~*~*

“Danny, I’m so sorry.”

It’s all Alicia can say; but it isn’t enough, and they both know it. She’s losing him, she can feel it — feel the gulf between them stretching further, even when she steps forward, even as she wraps her arms around him, engulfing him in a careful hug — as if holding him too tight would shatter him; as if holding him too loose would let him slip away.

Foolish.

She isn’t much of a hugger, but even she can feel that this hug is awkward and wrong — in the way his muscles tense when she gently pats him on the back, the way she towers over him and holds him in place, the way he holds himself like a wall of ice and doesn’t hug her back.

She finally lets go, and he steps back, away from her, glaring at the floor, shoulders risen to his ears.

Then his eyes snap to hers, and they are icy blue like his fathers, and deadly sharp like his mother’s — but the fire in them is cold, and it chills her to the bone. His voice matches his eyes.

“I don’t need your pity.”

And before Alicia can do anything, he brushes past her, and he storms out the door, into the night. Into the wilderness.

He doesn’t look back as he slams the door shut.

*~*~*

By the time she finds him, the wail has long since petered out, leaving a deathly silence in its wake. She spots him facing away from her, kneeling at the edge of the lake just northwest of her property, the moonlight catching on the edges of his figure but leaving the rest in shadow.

She wants to run to him, to look him over, make sure he’s okay, to bring him back inside. But that’s not what he needs. So instead, she surveys the area, and she approaches slowly, making her footsteps loud in the unnatural silence.

Alicia knows this part of the lake — has spent a good amount of time sitting where Danny kneels, thinking or just taking in the world. There’s always something a little bit different every time she comes this way — some new growth in the plant life, or some new animal tracks after the rain, or even a tree fallen in the wake of a storm. A couple storms have passed since she last came here.

Nothing natural could have changed the landscape to be what it is now.

Multiple trees have been torn from the ground, violently uprooted and radiating outwards from the lake. Some of them almost look like they’ve been hit by gunfire — large chunks of them missing, splintered wood clawing outwards from the gaping wounds. Greenish smoke rises from the exposed wood.

The same smoke curls from Danny’s fists at his sides.

Carefully avoiding the craters and downed trees, Alicia makes her way to the edge of the lake. Not too close to Danny — she doesn’t want to spook him — but not too far, either. She wants him to know that she’s there, that she’s there for him, for as long as he needs it.

She lowers herself to the ground with a huff.

And she sits with him, in the stillness of the night.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches as the smoke dissipates from Danny’s hands; as his fists relax; as he slowly shifts from kneeling, to sitting, to holding his knees. She can’t help the small sigh that escapes her — the way he’s curled up, hugging himself, staring intently at the lake so he doesn’t have to look at her — it’s just like her son.

Just like Flynn.

She sighs again, deep and long. Then she speaks.

“You had a cousin, you know.”

Danny doesn’t respond. But she knows he’s listening.

“Flynn,” she continues. “He was my son.”

She pauses as memories wash over her. “He could name every fish in this lake — and he would, too, when given the chance. Tell you all about the peepers, too. Sometimes, I caught him just sitting and staring into the lake — right where you’re sitting now — just thinking, I guess. He was a smart kid.”

Alicia takes a breath, and can’t help the way it shudders.

“He’s gone now. And it was my fault.”

She swallows, and feels her throat click. “We had a fight — can’t remember what about, it was so long ago — but he ran out of the house. And I went after him, of course I did, but it was broad daylight — he should have been safe — and I didn’t get there fast enough.”

She can remember it like yesterday: the way the sunlight had shown as he ran, warming her skin against the gentle, cool breeze that ruffled the grass and the trees. She’d been glad it was nice out — meant neither of them would catch a cold when she could finally catch up to her fool of a son. She remembers her confusion when Flynn had stopped running — then her dread as the dark green of the forest in front of him had slowly warped to something brighter, swirling and glowing and radioactive and growing with each passing moment — then her panic as she had realized what it was.

“It was one of them ghost portals,” she tells Danny. “I’d never seen one before, but your momma, she’d told me all about them. And she’d told me what all came out of them, too. I ran as fast as I could, and I told Flynn to run; but something reached out and grabbed him. And by the time I got there, it was too late. The portal closed. And my boy was gone.”

She can’t help the shudder in her voice, in her chest as she breathes, in her arms as she tenses them to hold herself together. It’s been a long time since she’s talked about Flynn. Too long. But she can’t break over it. Not yet. Danny needs to know — she gets it.

“Losing Flynn like that — knowing he was right there, that if I’d been a bit faster, or if I’d just listened, he’d still be here — it does something to you. My no good ex-husband, he didn’t get it. I’d be a fool to say he didn’t grieve, in the end — but he wasn’t there. He didn’t see. He didn’t understand.”

She watches from the corner of her eye as Danny stiffens.

“I hunted these woods for anything to get my son back,” she continues. “He just thought I was crazy — me spouting about ghosts and fae, like he knew anything about these woods. It ruined our marriage. And I don’t regret that; but it was a bad time. I had nightmares every night about losing him; and every day I did everything I could to find him. Your parents came out here, too, with all their fancy equipment. Didn’t find a thing. And everything I found out in the woods — none of it helped.”

She sighs and ignores the way her breath shakes.

“I never found Flynn, or the thing that took him. It was my fault. And by now, my son is probably dead.”

Danny’s head lowers into his knees as Alicia speaks. She doesn’t expect him to say anything once she’s run out of words. But a moment later, his voice, hoarse and quiet, echoes out from him.

“How do you do it? Keep going?”

Alicia huffs gently. “One step at a time, I suppose. The world keeps going. No matter how much it feels like it should all stop.” She rubs her face, and she’s only a little surprised to find it damp. “It’s hard, with him gone, knowing it’s my fault. There are times the guilt eats away at you.”

“Does it ever go away?” Danny squeezes his legs to his chest. His voice is small. He’s just a child.

Alicia takes a deep, shuddering breath, then lets it go. “No, Danny. It doesn’t.”

She’s not going to lie to Danny — he deserves better than that.

“Losing someone like that? It never goes away.” She pauses. “It gets easier — or maybe you get used to it. Hell if I know. But it never goes away.”

“Then what’s the point?” Danny sounds… angry. Frustrated. Desperate. He’s on the brink of tears, and he looks tired, so so tired, exhausted even — but it reminds Alicia of… something. Maddie? Maybe Flynn? And she chuckles ruefully.

“See, that’s the hard part. Is there any point to death? To losing someone and knowing it’s your fault?” She sighs. “Danny, I’ve had a long time to think. Ain’t much else to do around here.”

She takes a moment to gather her thoughts.

“You’re always gonna miss them — that won’t change. And they’ll always be a part of you — that won’t change, either. But the world keeps going, one step at a time. And that’s how you gotta take things. There’s work to be done. And there’s people you gotta keep going for. When Flynn was taken, it was your momma that kept me going. Then your sister and you.

“But out here, in the middle of nowhere, that don’t work forever. Here on the farm, you got structure, and you got hard work to keep things going. But mostly, you got solitude. And you got a lot of room for thinking.”

She pauses. “It took a while, but I think I learned how to keep going for myself. Not saying it’s easy — but anything worth doing takes hard work. And I’ll be there for you, as long as you want it, and as long as you need it.”

Alicia looks down properly at Danny then, from where she sits. His face is buried in his knees, and he’s gripping his legs like he’ll fall apart if he lets go. His whole frame trembles with tension.

He’s so small. And it breaks her heart to see him hurting like this.

Alicia puts her hand on Danny’s shoulder, and it nearly engulfs his upper arm. His head shoots up, and he stares at her with wide, glowing green eyes.

Then he starts to pull away from her, turning his head away and blinking his eyes.

“Hey.” Something in her tone makes him stop. She continues. “You don’t have to hide from me, Danny. You can let it out.” And so should I.

Danny searches her face for something — Alicia doesn’t know what. But after a moment, his face crumbles, and he gasps out a sob before launching himself into her arms. Alicia rocks back a bit with the force of it — then catches herself, and holds him tight, rocking him and rubbing circles in his back like she used to do with Flynn.

“I’m here, Danny. I’m here.”

She won’t tell him it’s okay — they both know it’s not.

Maybe they’ll never be okay.

But she’s there for him. And she’ll be there for him, for as long as he needs. Maybe forever, if Maddie was right about ghosts, if Danny is somehow ghostly.

“I’m here.”

She’s there for him when he lets go and leans against her in his exhaustion. She’s there for him when she keeps her arm around him, and they sit, and breathe, and stare out at the lake, under the stars, under the moonlight.

I’m here.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Kingdom Fall  -  Four

Pairing: Farmboy!Bucky X Princess!Reader

Summary: When an invading Kingdom forces you to flee your home, you find yourself stranded in an enemy kingdom on a farm, and the farmboy is nothing like you thought he would be.

Warnings: Violence, Angst, Fluff, Injuries, mentions of SA, Mentions of Murder,

Word Count: 4.2K

A/n: Like lowkey i didn’t know anyone was interested in this series but ig some of y’all are which is great cause i have 7 parts of this already written lol

Series Masterlist

~*~

“Again!” Steve shouts, glaring at the farmboy who’s fallen onto his back.

You watch as the two spar, admiring how they move, how their muscles ripple and flex as they fight.

It’s been near two weeks since Steve found you, and James has already picked up on how to wield a sword. Something about the way he holds it with such ease has you questioning just who he truly is, but you pay that thought little mind.

Instead, you focus on the map in front of you, circling specific areas where you know your people will seek refuge.

All you need now is to gather supplies.

You look around James’ small little house and a wave of sadness crashes over you.

He would really leave this for you. He would abandon his post for someone he barely knows.

Since Steve’s return, James has been a little more reserved, a little bit quieter than before.

And Steve has been a little more agitated than normal. The soldier that you knew was kind and softhearted. The man who found you is rough and aggressive. You’re not sure if it’s because of the circumstances, or if there’s something beyond that that is causing his new attitude.

You glance out the window again, unable to tear your eyes from the two men for long as they spar.

Both have relieved themselves of their shirts beneath the hot sun, opting instead to work bare from the waist upward.

You watch, impressed, as James manages to get Steve onto his back, yielding to the brunet.

He has the skill of a born fighter, and the grace of one as well.

He offers his hand to Steve, who glares at it and rises to his feet.

“You do not help the enemy,” he barks, glaring at the farm boy.

James stares at him for a long moment before speaking.

“And you do not turn your back on your allies,” he retorts.

Steve glares at him then turns away. “We are finished for the day.”

You can't help but roll your eyes at them and their antics.

They enter the cabin together and you don’t look up from your maps.

“I do hope that by the time we enter battle, you two are no longer squabbling like boys,” you muse.

“We are not squabbling,” Steve murmurs, pulling up a chair and taking a seat.

You look between the two men, lips pursed.

“Well then, what would you call it?”

Steve opens his mouth to answer but gets silenced quickly when James raises his hand.

The blond glares at him, the expression fading a moment later when he hears what’s got the brunet on edge.

“Horses,” you murmur, rising to your feet and peering out the window.

The two men come behind you, each ready to protect you with their lives.

“They wear the King’s colours,” James says, his arm finding your bicep and pulling you from the window.

The horses are barrelling down the gravel road, still a fair distance away, but you’ve no doubt that they’re looking for you.

“Guards searching for refugees, no doubt. For us,” Steve whispers.

You look between the two men for a moment before your eyes dart back to the window, trying to formulate a plan.

“Here, follow me.” James grabs your hand and leads you toward the bedroom. “There’s a small door to the cellar beneath the bed. You should be safe there.”

Steve pulls you from the brunet’s grip and shakes his head.

“Why should we listen to you? For all we know, this could be an ambush.”

You’d be lying if you said the thought never crossed your mind.

You peer over at James, waiting to see his response, to see if there’s any malice or lies behind his eyes.

You find nothing but honesty and worry, though, as he defends himself.

“I have already sworn my life to protect her. I would not risk endangering her. And, if I were to want harm to befall her, why would I allow you to teach me how to wield a sword? And why would I not have done it prior to your arrival?”

He asks question after question that holds nothing but proof of his true intentions.

Steve must realize this, too, because he reluctantly moves the bed and opens the latch on the floor.

A dark hole greets you, and a ladder leads the way.

Steve, ever the warrior, leads the way, calling for you to follow him once he's reached the bottom.

You take a deep breath, eyes connecting with James’ one last time before you begin your descent.

A warm hand finds the small of your back as your feet hit the floor, and you and Steve look up at James as he stands above you.

“As soon as I am certain they're gone, I will come fetch you.”

You nod, “be safe.”

He smiles softly at you, his eyes tender for a brief moment before he closes the latch, submerging you and Steve in darkness.

“This was a bad idea,” the blond murmurs after a moment, stepping closer to you when he hears the bed scratch along the wooden floors above your heads.

“You didn’t exactly have a better plan, did you?” You retort, reaching for him and allowing your fingers to spread across his chest.

One of his hands comes up to hold yours in place and he sighs heavily.

“I do not trust him, Princess. He has not yet proven to me that he is trustworthy.”

“But he’s proven it to me. Is that not enough for you?” You question softly.

Since you were a young girl, Steve has been there for you. Even as a sickly child, he still pledged his life to you, swore his sword would forever be yours and that he would always protect you and obey you - and you, in turn, swore to never take advantage of his oath. He’s made sacrifice after sacrifice for you, as you have for him, and so you thought you were at a point where you could trust each other endlessly.

“Princess, I do not question your judgement,” he clarifies softly, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. “I question his intentions. You will forgive me if it takes more than a moon cycle or two for a Lornillian man to prove his worth to me.”

You ponder his words carefully while your fingers trace patterns on his chest.

You understand where he’s coming from. Steve has seen firsthand what the men of Lornilla have done. Though you feel in your heart and soul that James is different. He must be.

You trust him.

Maybe not wholly, but enough to allow him temporary power over you.

“I... I understand your hesitance in trusting him,” you finally concede, nodding along with your own words though he can barely see you in the darkness of the cellar.

“I do understand, though I hope you are not closed off to the idea of there being good in men. I have found it in myself to trust a man born of Lornilla before, and now I am doing it again.”

Steve falls silent, the reminder of his past haunting him.

The two of you have spent many nights by a campfire, telling stories of your past. Reliving horrors that you shouldn’t have had to face in the first place. And every time you both have come to the conclusion that, had you not seen and experienced such hardships, you would not be the people you are today.

You open your mouth to speak again but snap it closed when you hear footsteps creaking overhead and male voices talking. One is familiar. The others are not.

Steve pulls you closer, one hand on the hilt of his sword as he glares up toward the cellar door, ready to fight to the death for you if need be.

For a brief but definite moment, you realize how foolish this has been.

You truly have not known James long at all, and now your life is in his hands.

No more than before, you suppose.

But now you have no advantage. At least before, when it was only the two of you, you had your weapons and your skill. Sure, he may be stronger, but you’re a warrior. A fighter. You’ve fought more battles than you can count and slain more enemies than you’d like to know.

But now? Now you’re completely at the mercy of the Lornillan men. If they were to storm the cellar they would have the upper hand. You are nothing more than a sitting duck, awaiting a hunter's arrow.

The footsteps fade from the room, but Steve stays standing at attention, eyes trained on the cellar door.

He shoves you behind his back and unsheathes his sword when the bed scratches against the floor a few minutes later, and then the two of you are showered with light.

He blinks furiously against it, willing his eyes to adjust so he can do his duty, so he can protect you, but James stands alone at the door to the cellar.

“They’re gone. The dust has settled behind their horses, but I cannot be sure they will not come back.”

Steve glares at him then climbs out, scanning the room and the house before returning to you only to find you accepting James’ help out of the cellar.

“What did you tell them?” The blond demands, glaring at the farm boy.

James looks between the two of you and sighs.

“They’re looking for the missing Princesses of Aresia. I told them I know nothing of Aresia. I thought our King strong enough to overthrow women.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, pondering his words for a long moment before turning to Steve.

“You need to train harder. We do not have time to spare anymore. It is only a matter of time before they come back or worse - find the others. We need to leave and we need to do so soon.”

Like seasoned soldiers, the two follow your command diligently.

The next several days are spent with the two of them training while you pour over maps and books and stockpile all the supplies you can.

Since Steve’s return, your nights have been spent alone in James’ bed. The brunet uses the excuse of tending to the animals - a task he is no longer able to do during the day- and the blond claims to be monitoring the perimeter.

You’re going over the route to safety one more time, trying desperately to memorize it before your journey in a few days.

The supplies have been packed, for the most part, and are stored in the stables with the horses.

The sun has just begun setting, and James and Steve are wrapping up their training for the day.

You’re so caught up in your reading that you almost don’t hear the hooves beating against the gravel.

Almost.

When you notice the guards, you shoot to your feet and immediately grab your weapons from where they lay strewn across the kitchen table.

You rush out the back door into the field where the men are sparring, both of them freezing when they see the panic on your face.

“Riders. Men of the King. They’ve come back.”

The two men look to the gravel road and Steve feels his stomach drop while James’ heart ties itself in knots.

“We cannot risk going back to the house. They’re too close, they’ll see us,” Steve murmurs, grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the barn.

“In the hayloft. There are bails to hide behind. A ladder leads there from behind the pile in the far corner. They will not think to look there. Move quickly,” James urges, turning toward the pig pen to busy himself with the animals.

You and Steve follow his instructions, running over to the barn and yanking the door open, then slipping inside and pulling it shut tightly behind you.

You follow James’ instructions and climb the ladder in the corner with Steve hot on your heels.

The hayloft is old and rickety, and you pray that it doesn’t collapse under the combined weight of you and Steve.

Eventually, the two of you settle, buried beneath the hay and pressed tightly together.

He has an arm wrapped around you, keeping you grounded and making sure you know he’s there, that he’s not going to let anything happen to you.

Meanwhile, James is trying to make it look as though he truly has been working in the fields all day, rather than sparring and training to fight against the very Kingdom he resides in and provides for.

“You there! Farmboy!” A guard shouts, barrelling onto his land on horseback. There are at least six other guards behind him, all on horses, and James feels like he may be sick.

“Yes?” His voice is surprisingly steady.

“Have you seen any refugees? Fleeing from the neighbouring country? Women?”

James pretends to think for a moment then shakes his head.

“None through this way, no. Why? Are we expecting some women folk?”

The guard looks around James’ property then looks over to the house.

“May we come in?”

James swallows hard then nods, wiping his hands on his pants.

“If I’d’ve known you lot were coming I would’ve put some tea on.”

The leader only chuckles and shakes his head.

“That won’t be necessary. We only need to have a word with you.”

James leads the way back to the house, taking note of the few guards who don’t follow and instead opt to look around his property.

Trying to act as casual as possible, James takes a seat at his kitchen table and prepares to put on the act of the century.

“So, you have not had any visitors lately? Nobody unexpected has come around?” The guard asks.

James shrugs, “besides yourself? No.”

The guard nods, slowly taking a look around the house.

This guard is different than the one that came the first time. In fact, they all are.

These ones are rougher. Far harder and they have an anger beneath their eyes that has James on edge.

He’s not sure it’ll be so easy to talk his way out of it this time.

“If you were to come upon a woman, what would you do?”

James shrugs and rubs the back of his neck.

“Well, I reckon I would probably use her the way women need be used. Stuff her full of my cock an’ see if she has any use. Otherwise, I would bring her to town. Sell her for a penny or two.” The vile words physically hurt to speak, and James hopes you never have to hear him speak this way.

The guard nods, eyeing the brunet carefully.

“The King has now put out a notice that any woman who is not visibly owned by a man or accompanied by her owner will need to come to the village square to have her worth determined. Especially if she is a face not seen before. We do not care for whores at the whorehouses. They have no business in the village square. But women who seem untouched. Women who do not understand the way the world works. Women who would dare speak against you. Those are the ones that are to be collected and brought before us for judgment.”

James nods his understanding.

“Should I stumble upon one, I’ll be sure to bring her to the village square.” He pauses for a moment then looks up at the guard, “do I need to leave her untouched?”

The guard chuckles and claps a hand on the brunet's shoulder.

“You may do what you please with her, we only need her alive to determine her worth.”

The guard takes a calculated look out the window, then nods to himself and rises to his feet.

He roots through his pockets for a long moment before producing a small coin purse and dropping it on the table.

“Consider this... payment for your cooperation. I’m sure you’ll find it more than enough to cover the expenses.”

James pulls his brows together then follows the guard's gaze out across the field and toward the barn.

Smoke pours from the roof, and James feels his stomach drop into his feet.

“Well, we’ll be on our way now. You remember what I said about those women. Failure to bring them forward is treasonous, punishable by death.”

James only stares at the barn, his heart racing in his chest as the guards leave.

You don’t notice it at first, nose pressed against Steve’s chest. It isn't until you hear it that you start to question what’s going on.

“Is that...” Steve trails off quietly, sniffing the air then pushing into a seated position.

Sure enough, bright orange flames lick up the sides of the building, the hay feeding the fire quickly.

Beyond the crackling of the fire, you can make out male voices speaking just beyond the door.

You slowly raise your eyes to Steve’s silently asking him what to do, if you can fight your way out of this.

He takes a slow breath then nods toward the ladder that you climbed to get to the hayloft.

Slowly, you climb back down, one hand pressed to your mouth and nose to try and prevent inhaling the smoke as much as you can.

Steve follows you down then jogs silently over to the barn door, one ear pressed to it before he shakes his head and makes his way back over to you.

“They’re standing at the door. We cannot leave that way. We must find another exit.”

You swallow hard and nod, looking around the barn for anything that could be used as an exit.

The building quickly fills with smoke, the temperature increasing as the fire devours the hay.

Time is running out.

Sweat is already beading across your neck, a single droplet rolling down your back as you and Steve search for another exit.

The crackling of the fire is almost deafening and the heat is quickly becoming unbearable.

You duck under a low-hanging beam near the back of the barn, desperate to find another exit. A hole in the wall. A window. Anything that will grant you even a breath of fresh air to clear your head.

Each breath has your lungs stinging and your head growing cloudier.

“Princess!” Steve’s voice whispers harshly, a hand finding your bicep and tugging you closer to the wall.

You look up at him, confused and groggy as more of the smoke clouds your senses.

His blue eyes seem far away, the smoke between the two of you muddling those clear depths.

“Steve,” you whisper, one hand finding his forearm.

This can’t be it, can it? This cannot truly be how it ends for you, not when you have so much to do, so many people to save.

You stumble a step and cough as the smoke invades your lungs.

“This way, hurry,” Steve whispers, grabbing your hand and leading you along the wall.

You follow blindly, the flames growing taller and stronger and consuming everything in their path. It will only be mere minutes until you and Steve are included in that.

“Hurry, Princess. Out this way,” Steve whispers, pointing to a small door along the wall across from you, directly across from the main door.

You look over at him and give him a nod, then hurry across the barn and through the flames with him right behind you.

A loud creak sounds from overhead and you pause for a moment to find the source of the sound, and a moment is all it takes for a beam from the ceiling to come tumbling down toward you.

“Princess!”

One moment you’re staring certain death in the face, and the next moment you’re on the ground, gravel and hay biting into your skin.

“Steve!” You rush to his side, eyes wide as you see the beam pinning his leg down.

“I’m all right,” he rasps, panting hard then coughing, “it’s only on my armour.”

You reach for the beam without thinking, grabbing and heaving only to cry out softly in pain as the hot wood burns your skin.

Releasing it as slowly as you can manage, you wipe your hands on your dress and look around desperately to find something to give you enough leverage to push the beam off of him.

“Go, Princess! Now!” Steve commands, glaring at you when you shake your head at him.

“No. I left you once, I will not do it again!” You retort, reaching for the beam again only to be overtaken by a fit of coughs.

“You are of no use to your country, to your people and your sisters, if you are dead.”

Your eyes meet his and you shake your head, beyond furious.

You will not leave him to die.

With shaky legs, you rise and run out of the barn coughing as the fresh air bites at your lungs.

“(Y/n)!”

You look to the sound, pointing to the barn as your coughing continues.

“Steve,” you croak, grabbing James’ hand when he rushes to your side, “he’s trapped. Please, y-you must help him.”

James looks up at the burning barn then back down to your face, his decision made.

Without a second thought, he rushes into the burning barn toward the blond on the floor.

He inspects the scene, one hand covering his mouth and nose to prevent the smoke from getting to him too quickly.

Grabbing a stray branch from the ground, James hurries to Steve’s side and shoves the wood beneath the beam pinning the blond to the ground.

With a mighty heave, he frees the soldier, and Steve is quick to scramble out of the barn with James hot on his heels.

The blond coughs violently, immediately rushing to your side and checking you for injuries with little regard for his own health.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, one hand cupping your face while his eyes scan your body.

You shake your head, hating how strained his voice is. It reminds you of when the two of you were children and he was more sick than he was healthy.

James watches the exchange and feels his stomach sink just the tiniest bit.

It sinks further when the reality of the situation hits him and he realizes just how much he’s lost.

He turns to the burning barn with tears in his eyes.

He remembers building that when he was just a boy with his father. Tending to the animals, playing in the hayloft with his sister.

His whole life has been spent here, and now it’s nothing more than a pile of rubble.

Your eyes find the brunet and sorrow makes your own heart heavy.

You slowly make your way over to him, placing a gentle hand upon his shoulder.

“James...?”

He takes a deep breath and turns to you, his eyes glossy.

“When do we leave?” He asks, his voice full of both anger and pain.

You take a deep breath and look at everything in front of you. You look at the burning barn, at the setting sun and the small farmhouse.

Your gaze then travels to the men with you.

“The way to the shelters is long. We must go through the city and gather provisions. We leave tomorrow.”

James takes another deep breath and nods, turning away from the smouldering remains of his past life and looking you in the eye.

“It is not safe for women in the city. You will need to do as I say. The men will be harsh, but you cannot argue. Being by our side will do you well and keep you safe, but if other men realize who you are, they will not hesitate to slay us where we stand in order to get to you and bring you before the King.”

You swallow hard and nod, trying to take it all in.

This will be a true test of your patience and your acting all in one.

“With the gold they gave me for... my trouble...” James begins, “we will have more than enough to cover food and water. Likely enough to last several weeks. We will walk the horses through the city, you will need to wear a cloak that will cover your weapons and your identity.”

He turns to Steve, “you will need to listen to me. This is the city that I grew up in. I know how to travel unnoticed. You and your mannerisms will stick out like a sore thumb. If we are to ever reach our destination safely, you will both need to trust me and follow along with what I do.”

Steve glances at you, waiting for you to agree before he does.

When you finally nod your agreement, the blond does the same, and James sighs.

“Rest. I will salvage what I can overnight.”

Steve places a gentle hand on the brunet's shoulder, smiling softly.

“I will help you,” he says firmly, allowing the brunet no room to argue.

James’ eyebrows raise and he looks between you and Steve carefully.

“We all require sleep this night. I will help you,” he repeats.

James slowly nods and you watch as the two of them head off together to salvage what they can and prepare for the long journey ahead.