#fic: a vow without honor

[creationcitystreet-em]

Voy a cuidarte por las noches

Voy a amarte sin reproches

Te voy a extrañar en la tempestad


Y aunque existan mil razones para renunciar

No hay nadie más

- “No Hay Nadie Más” de Sebastián Yatra

[damn-daemon]

Are there already songs composed about Jaime and Myra?

Probably. I'm not going to be writing them lol.

[reidsbookclub]

Vows of Rivalry

Authors Note: MY FIRST AARON FIC AHH!! Idk what is scarier the fact that this is FINALLY going out to the world or the fact that my first Aaron fic does not follow cannon events. Either way I would really appreciate any feedback you guys can give me. gif credit to original creator. I had it saved on my laptop so I really do not remember

special thanks to @boldlyvoid for beta reading the first draft of this fic. pairing: Aaron Hotchner x female reader

Without further ado here is Vows of Rivalry.

Mock trial season. Every law student’s worst nightmare. Except for one.

Most students dreaded the possibility of being pitted against Aaron Hotchner—reigning champion since his first year. Hotch was renowned for his ruthless precision, impeccable argumentation, and the intimidating scowl that seemed permanently etched onto his face. But for Y/N Y/L/N, the prospect of facing Aaron was anything but dreadful. In fact, she relished it.

She could see it now: his jaw clenched, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing whenever she’d poke holes in his carefully laid arguments. For her, it wasn’t just about winning. It was about watching Aaron Hotchner, the unflappable law prodigy, completely lose his composure.

That day was no different. The mock trial courtroom buzzed with the tension of impending arguments, the air crackling with unspoken competition. Y/N adjusted her blazer, her eyes scanning the room for her favorite opponent. There he was, already seated with his ever-present briefcase of legal weapons, jaw set and brows furrowed as he reviewed his notes. She couldn’t help the smirk tugging at her lips as she walked to her seat across from him.

The mock trial had barely begun, but the room felt like a pressure cooker. Y/N had just finished outlining her opening argument when Aaron stood to cross-examine her witness. As always, he delivered each question with surgical precision, his voice sharp, his gaze colder than a winter morning.

But she wasn’t backing down.

“Your Honor,” she interrupted smoothly, “he simply doesn’t have the evidence necessary for—”

“Evidence?” Aaron interrupted, his calm demeanor finally cracking. He looked like he was about to explode, his face flushed with frustration. “Evi—Jesus, woman, you make me so annoyed sometimes. I just want to very publicly divorce you!”

The courtroom fell silent, and Y/N stared at him, stunned by his outburst. Then, instead of being thrown off, she smiled. “You’d have to marry me first, Hotchner.”

Aaron stormed off, leaving the room in a buzz of shock. The judge cleared his throat awkwardly and called for a recess, but all Y/N could think about was how much she had enjoyed watching him unravel.

Neither of them realizing that the judge for this mock trial, their peer Marcus,  had a murderous look trained to where Aaron had left. 

Flash forward — Present day

The BAU office was quieter than usual, the team scattered as they worked on different aspects of their current case. Aaron Hotchner sat at his desk, tapping his pen absently against a case file, the rhythm of his movements betraying his usual calm. His mind wasn’t on the case—not entirely. Instead, it kept wandering back to Y/N. Their history, their rivalry in law school, the way she always managed to get under his skin.

His mind began to drift to that impulsive night in Vegas that had been the culmination of all that tension

The neon lights of Las Vegas blared like a siren song, luring Y/N and Aaron into a world of wildness and excess. After an exhausting week of mock trials, they and their law school classmates had decided to blow off some steam and take a trip to Vegas of all places.

“Okay, Hotchner, let’s see if you can handle another round!” Y/N challenged, her voice slightly slurred as she leaned against the bar, her hair a tousled mess.

Aaron rolled his eyes, his own drink barely clutched in his hand. “I think you’ve already had enough, Y/N. You know, you might actually lose your pants at the blackjack table this time.”

“Ha! Please, I’m a betting goddess! You’re just jealous because I outsmarted you in court last week!” she shot back, leaning in closer, her breath a mixture of fruity cocktails and determination.

“Outsmarted me? You mean you got lucky!” Aaron replied, smirking. 

“You know what? Let’s get married!”  she taunted, downing the last of her drink. 

“What?” Aaron burst out laughing, nearly spilling his drink. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope!” Y/N declared, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Let’s do it. Vegas style! You and me! A wedding! Right now!”

He glanced at her, both amused and wary. “You realize that you’re completely drunk out of your mind, right? You know what they say about Vegas weddings. And I don’t want to be part of a ‘you’re-who-I-got-drunk-with’ story.”

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come on, Hotch! It’ll be epic! Plus, we’ll have a great story to tell during our class reunion 10 years from now about how we got wasted and tied the knot on a whim!”

“Yeah, and how you lost all your money at blackjack the same night!” he shot back, unable to hold back his laughter.

“Shut up!” she laughed, but then her expression shifted to one of playful defiance. “I dare you to come with me! We’ll show everyone that even stoic Aaron Hotcher  can do something crazy with the right company! Or are you too scared”

Aaron raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. “You think I’m scared? You really want to drag me into this madness?”

“Absolutely!” she insisted, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the chapel like a determined toddler. “C’mon! What’s the worst that could happen? We’ll wake up tomorrow, laugh about it!”

“Or we might actually end up married,” he replied, a mixture of thrill and dread filling him as they reached the chapel’s entrance. “What’s your plan if we do?”

“Um… we’ll just call it a really fun mistake!” she quipped, giggling as they stumbled into the small, tacky chapel. Elvis’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love” played in the background, setting the perfect absurd tone.

Inside, they approached the altar, barely able to contain their laughter. The Elvis impersonator greeted them, his eyes twinkling as he took in their disheveled appearance.

“Welcome to the chapel, lovebirds!” he boomed, clearly accustomed to drunken couples making rash decisions.

“Lovebirds?” Aaron muttered under his breath, shooting Y/N a glance. 

“Shhh! Just go with it,” she hissed, nudging him with her elbow. “It’ll be fun!”

The officiant cleared his throat. “Do you, Y/N, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“Sure, why not?” Y/N said with a grin, her tone decidedly nonchalant. “I mean, he does make a decent man most of the time.”

“Y/N!” Aaron exclaimed, mortified and amused at her flippancy.

“And do you, Aaron, take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the officiant continued, a bemused smile on his face.

Aaron shrugged dramatically, looking at Y/N with exaggerated seriousness. “I guess so. As long as she promises not to annoy me with her terrible jokes and awful puns.”

“Hey!” Y/N shot back, mock-hurt. “I’ll have you know my jokes are legendary!”

“Legendary at making people cringe,” he replied, chuckling as the officiant tried to stifle a laugh.

After a few more playful jabs and exaggerated vows—filled with drunken laughter and outrageous promises—they exchanged rings made of plastic and signed their names on the chapel’s official log, feeling giddy and foolish.

As they stumbled back out into the glittering chaos of the Vegas Strip, their marriage license in hand, they couldn't help but laugh that they even printed out one. 

“Is this even legal?” she asked not expecting a reply, glancing at their license as if it might disappear into thin air. “You would think that for a pair of law students we would know the answer” 

Aaron only shrugged, too drunk to think, tossing an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s hit the casino again. After all, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?”

As they walked, their banter flowed freely, filled with giggles and playful nudges. They knew they would laugh about this ridiculous night for years to come, even if they had to figure out how to disentangle themselves from the drunken mess they had just created.

The next morning had been awkward, to say the least. They had agreed to get the marriage annulled immediately, laughing about how ridiculous it all was. Except, somehow, neither had followed through on the paperwork. It had slipped through the cracks of their busy lives.

Now, his mind kept wandering back to Y/N wondering where she was now. He couldn’t help but notice how the victims all had a striking resemblance to her. 

The team had been called in to investigate a series of kidnappings, and the more they dug, the clearer it became for him how they all looked like Y/N. Where was she now? He couldn’t help but think. Was she safe? 

He leaned forward, pinching the bridge of his nose, the weight of it all pressing down on him. He had to find her, his protective instincts kicking in. 

“Did you find something, Garcia?” Hotch asked, breaking the silence of his office when Penelope Garcia appeared at the door, her fingers flying across her tablet.

She hesitated momentarily, her usual cheerful energy replaced with a seriousness that made Hotch’s pulse quicken.

“I… I think so, sir,” she said, her eyes widening as she glanced at her screen. “Does the name Y/N Y/L/N ring any bells?”

Hotch’s heart stopped for a moment. His eyes locked with Garcia’s, his mind racing. “Yes,” he replied, his voice strained. “She’s… my wife.”

Garcia’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what?”

Hotch took a breath, the memories rushing back. “We got married… years ago. It was a mistake. We were supposed to get divorced, but… it never happened.”

Garcia blinked rapidly, trying to process what he had just revealed. “So, you’re telling me… you’re still married?”

“Yes.” Hotch’s voice was tight with emotion. 

He stood abruptly, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. “What did you find?”

Garcia quickly shifted gears, “well, her co-workers reported Y/N missing yesterday after not showing up to work,” pulling up a map of the latest victim location.  “Y/N’s phone pinged from an industrial area near the docks about an hour ago. The unsub is still playing games, but I believe she is the latest victim, sir. It appears he stalked her online for a couple of weeks’”

Hotch’s jaw tightened as he listened, his professional side taking over. “Send me the coordinates. I want the team assembled now.”

~~~~~

The BAU team had nearly arrived to the warehouse, moving swiftly and silently. Hotch led the charge, his mind a blur of tactical planning and personal fear. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. Not after all these years. Not when he was just realizing how much she still meant to him.

Inside, the air was thick with dust and decay. The unsub had clearly been holding Y/N here, but as they searched the space, there was no sign of her or the unsub.

Hotch’s phone buzzed. A new message.

It was from Y/N’s phone, but the words were clearly from the unsub:

“Do you remember? Do you remember how much you tried to hate her? Tried to hide much did you love her? You won’t find her in time, Hotchner.” 

So this was someone from their past, but who? While trying to think of anyone that would’ve been trying to get close to her and hating him he couldn’t help but recall one fateful winter day that cemented them as academic rivals while also cementing his love for her. 

The cold bite of winter air seeped into the library, where a few stubborn law students huddled around textbooks and laptops. Outside, snowflakes drifted lazily, painting the world in white, but inside, a different kind of storm was brewing.

Aaron Hotchner glanced up from his notes, his sharp gaze falling on Y/N, who sat across from him in their study group. The usual fire was in her eyes, and the faintest trace of a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she readied herself for another round of their never-ending banter.

“You’re completely wrong, Hotchner,” she said, her voice sharp and teasing. “Your interpretation of the case law is so off-base, I’m surprised you’re even here right now.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Is that so? Enlighten me, then. If you can, that is.”

Y/N’s face flushed, her hazel eyes narrowing in mock-annoyance. The faint crinkle of her nose appeared—the one that always seemed to surface when she was riled up. It was something he had started to look forward to, something that drove him to keep pushing her buttons just to see that reaction.

“Don’t tempt me,” she said with a huff, leaning forward to point at his notes. “Right here, you missed the entire point of the ruling. You can’t just cherry-pick the facts that support your argument. You’re better than that… or at least, I thought you were.”

Her words were laced with sarcasm, but Aaron found himself barely hearing them. Instead, his mind focused on the way her hair fell loosely over her shoulders, how her cheeks were tinged pink from the warmth of the heated room, and how that fire in her eyes sparked every time they clashed.

She was beautiful in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to fully acknowledge until now. He’d always admired her intellect, her tenacity, the way she stood her ground no matter how hard he pushed. But today—today something shifted. It wasn’t just respect or admiration anymore. It was something deeper, something that hit him square in the chest as if knocking the air out of him.

God, he loved seeing her like this—passionate, focused, and utterly unrelenting. His heart raced as he watched her argue her point, lips moving with a confidence that captivated him. He’d always riled her up for the sake of competition, but now he realized it was more than that. He loved it. Loved the way her nose crinkled, the way her skin flushed pink when she got under his skin and knew it.

She was like a force of nature, and Aaron—against all logic—was caught in her storm.

“Are you even listening to me?” Y/N’s voice cut through his thoughts, her eyes narrowing further as she leaned back, arms crossed.

Aaron blinked, shaking off the haze of his realization, and quickly returned to their debate. “Of course I am. I’m just trying to figure out if you actually believe that nonsense you’re spewing.”

Her mouth fell open, and that familiar spark lit in her eyes again. “You’re impossible!” she snapped, throwing her pen down dramatically.

Aaron bit back a grin. “And you’re predictable.”

That earned him a glare, but he could see the amusement behind it. She thrived on this, just like he did. The banter, the push and pull—it was their language, and he’d never felt more alive than when they were like this. But now it came with a deeper ache, a longing he hadn’t anticipated.

Later that day, after they’d packed up and left the library, Aaron lingered near the hallway, stuffing his textbooks into his bag. Y/N’s voice drifted from around the corner, chatting with her friends.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come out with us tonight?” one of the girls asked. “Marcus has been wanting to ask you out and you always shoot him down.” 

Y/N laughed softly. “No, I’m good. I promised myself I’d focus on law school. No distractions. I’m staying single and just keeping my head down until graduation.”

Aaron froze, his breath catching in his throat. The words stung more than they should have. He had just admitted to himself that he might be falling for her, and now—now she was putting up a wall, and he wasn’t even on the other side of it.

Single. Focused on her studies. No distractions.

It was clear where she stood, and Aaron felt a knot of frustration tighten in his chest. He could never compete with her ambitions, nor would he try. He respected that about her. But still, it hit him hard, this quiet admission of hers that he had no place in her plans.

He stood there, hidden just out of view, feeling the weight of her words settle over him. He had never been one to chase something he couldn’t have, and Y/N had just made it clear she was determined to stay unattached.

But if he couldn’t have her the way he wanted—if she would never see him the way he saw her—then he’d find another way to stay close to her.

That night, as snow continued to fall softly outside the window, Aaron made a silent vow to himself. If being her rival was the only way to be near her, then so be it. He would challenge her, argue with her, push her to her limits—because that’s when she was at her best, and it was the only way he could keep her in his life.

If being her academic rival was all he could be, then he would make sure to be the best damn rival she ever had.

The blood drained from his face as he reread the words. This was personal. The unsub had been watching them—watching their past, their history. And now, Hotch knew he was the key to finding Y/N. Could it have been Marucs? Marcus was the  other relentless suitor that y/n had. Could it be him? 

He called Garcia, “we are almost at the location Y/Ns phone pinged last. Look into Marcus for me, he went to school with us” he ordered 

“Looks  like Marcus has had many girlfriends that resemble Y/N physical appearance since graduating, up until last year in which his girlfriend broke up with him to marry someone else. The wedding date coincides with the first killing sir” 

“Thanks Garcia” he said as they arrived at the location. 

The SWAT team had cleared the perimeter, and Aaron Hotchner stood just outside the door of the dilapidated warehouse. The once-industrial building had long since been abandoned, its cracked windows and rusting metal exterior fitting the profile of a man like Marcus Chambers—someone who had faded into the shadows, but had never truly disappeared.

Aaron’s heartbeat thudded heavily in his ears, the only sound louder than the quiet murmur of the team communicating over comms. They’d been tracking Marcus for days, and this was their best lead yet. But there was one glaring problem—it seemed Y/N wasn’t here.

And time was running out.

The door to the warehouse creaked open, and Aaron nodded to Morgan and Prentiss, signaling them to enter first. Inside, the air was stale and filled with the faint scent of metal and dust. There were scattered pieces of old machinery and boxes, but it was otherwise empty—save for a table and the man seated at the far end of the room.

Marcus.

His dark eyes were fixed on the team as they approached, his mouth curled into a bitter smirk. He didn’t make any effort to move or run, didn’t flinch as SWAT flooded in behind them, guns raised and voices sharp with commands. He sat there, unbothered, like he’d been expecting them all along.

Aaron’s jaw clenched as he approached, unable to shake the burning anger and desperation clawing at him. Y/N’s life depended on this, and every second felt like an eternity.

“Where is she?” Aaron’s voice was low, controlled, but the fury beneath it was unmistakable.

Marcus’s eyes flickered with amusement as he leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms lazily. “You think it’s that easy, don’t you, Hotchner? You swoop in, play the hero, and save the day.” He sneered. “But not this time.”

Aaron’s fists clenched at his sides. The rage boiling inside him was barely contained, but he couldn’t afford to lose control now. He couldn’t let Marcus see just how much he was getting to him. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“I’m not playing games with you, Marcus,” Aaron growled, stepping closer, his voice like steel. “Tell me where she is, or I swear you won’t like how this ends.”

Morgan stepped forward ready to jump and protect his boss and close friend, hand resting on his gun, ready for any sign of danger. “You’re surrounded, man, you’re not walking out of here, so you might as well make it easier on yourself.”

Marcus chuckled darkly, shaking his head as if amused by the entire situation. “Easier? For me? This was never about making it easy, agent.” His eyes drifted back to Aaron, and there was something unsettling in his gaze—something cold, unhinged. “This was about making you pay.”

Aaron felt the weight of those words, and it took everything in him to keep his expression neutral. He had known Marcus back in law school—had always seen him as a man with an inferiority complex, always jealous of anyone who succeeded around him. But that was nothing compared to the bitterness Aaron saw now.

“This is about Y/N, isn’t it?” Aaron said, voice steady but cutting. “You’ve hated me since the mock trial when I said I would marry her, but Marcus you should know we were just rattling each other”

“Bullshit” Marcus yelled irritated 

Marcus’s smirk widened. “You have no idea, do you? No idea what it felt like watching you—golden boy Aaron Hotchner—get everything handed to you. The grades, the reputation, and then… her.”

Could he really know about Vegas, about them actually marrying? Aaron thought. It wasn’t as if they actually lived like husband and wife, they had just forgotten to annul the marriage, granted, as far as he knew neither of them had dated after that day. Could he really be this infuriated by a piece of paper? Aaron decided not to focus on the  pang of guilt he felt by thinking of the marriage to the love of his life as just a “piece of paper” he had to figure out where she was before it was too late.

“I watched you two,” Marcus continued, his voice laced with bitterness. “Watched you marry her like it was some joke. Like she was some prize you could just win and forget about.” 

Aaron’s stomach twisted. It all went back to Vegas. The night they’d gotten drunk, the night he and Y/N had woken up with rings on their fingers and hazy memories of how they got there. A wedding that should have been forgotten, annulled, but had somehow turned into something much more permanent, a silent promise that they would always be there for each other. A promise he couldn't break, not after all this time. 

 And Marcus had been there. He’d seen it all. And he was dead set on breaking the fragile bond that was made that night between Aaron and Y/N.  

Suddenly, a faint sound caught his attention—a soft, muffled cry coming from the back of the warehouse. Hotch motioned for the team to follow as they approached a locked room. Kicking the door open, his breath caught in his throat.

There she was. Y/N. Bound and gagged but alive.

You were there that night?” Aaron asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Marcus nodded, his eyes flickering with something darker—something dangerous. “I saw it all. You don’t even remember, do you? How you laughed about it. How you said it didn’t matter, how it would all be a funny memory years down the road. But it mattered to me.”

Aaron’s chest tightened. Yes, there was laughter that night. But, he hadn’t brushed it off like it meant nothing. It had scared him the days after how much that marriage had meant to him. But Marcus had twisted that memory, had held onto it all these years, letting it fester into something deadly.

“This isn’t about Vegas, Marcus,” Aaron said coldly. “This is about your obsession. You’re angry because you never stood a chance.”

Marcus’s smirk faltered for a brief second, but the madness in his eyes only intensified. “I didn’t stand a chance because you took her from me before I even had one.”

Aaron’s fists clenched tighter, his patience fraying. “I'm done with this, I’m done with you. Tell me where she is. Now.”

Marcus chuckled, leaning forward in his chair, his voice dripping with malice. “You really think I’d make it that easy for you? No, Hotchner. This is your punishment. You don’t get to save her this time.”

Aaron’s blood ran cold, a chill settling deep into his bones. He stepped closer, towering over Marcus, his voice deadly calm. “You tell me where she is, or I swear–” Aaron couldn’t finish his threat, noticing Marcus’ eyes flickered to the timer he set on a nearby table. 

Marcus met Aaron’s eyes, his smile fading into something more sinister. “You’re too late. She will be dead in 20 minutes.”

Aaron’s heart stopped. Too late. No, that couldn’t be possible. Not Y/N. Not when they were so close.

“Where is she?” Morgan demanded, his voice rising.

Marcus didn’t answer. His gaze drifted lazily around the room, savoring the tension, the desperation on Aaron’s face. “You’ll never find her. She’s too far gone.”

Aaron lunged forward, grabbing Marcus by the collar and hauling him to his feet, rage boiling over. “Where is she?!”

Morgan and Prentiss moved to pull Aaron back, but he was already too far gone. Marcus laughed in his face, taunting him with the one thing Aaron couldn’t afford to lose: time.

And then, in a quiet, venomous whisper, Marcus finally spoke.

“You’re looking in the wrong place.”

The words sank in, chilling Aaron to his core. Marcus had known all along that they’d come here, had expected this, planned for it. And while they wasted time finding him—Y/N was somewhere else.

Somewhere Aaron might never reach her in time.

He released Marcus, stepping back, chest heaving with frustration and panic. They had him in custody, but it wasn’t enough. Not without Y/N.

They were running out of time, and Aaron knew he couldn’t afford a single second more

Back at the BAU Penelope Garcia’s fingers flew across the keyboard, eyes glued to the flurry of data populating the screen. She’d been digging into Marcus's background, searching for anything that could lead them to where he was keeping Y/N. “Come on, come on…” she muttered under her breath, frustration building—until suddenly, a detail popped up, too familiar to ignore. “Wait a minute,” she whispered, freezing. She leaned closer, eyes widening as the puzzle pieces clicked. “The old library!”

Spencer Reid, sitting across from her, looked up from the stack of files he was pouring over. “What about it?”

Garcia spun her chair toward him, her face pale with realization. “That abandoned library—the one Hotch and Marcus used to study at with the group. It was scheduled for demolition last year, but the plans were scrapped. No one’s been there in years.”

Reid’s eyes lit up with recognition, and his voice dropped. “It’s isolated. Quiet. The perfect place to hide someone.”

Garcia immediately tapped into her comms, panic lacing her voice as she patched through to Hotch. "Hotch, I think we’ve found her. She’s at the old library. Marcus has her at the place you all used to study.”

There was a beat of silence before Hotch's voice came through, tight with urgency. "We are  on our way."

Aaron Hotchner’s heart pounded as he pushed through the crumbling doors of the abandoned library, his flashlight slicing through the dust-choked darkness. Morgan was right behind him, followed closely by Prentiss, JJ, and Rossi, their footsteps eerily silent against the cracked tile floors. The air was heavy with mustiness, and the faint echoes of their past—years spent studying in this very place—seemed to haunt the hallways. But there was no time for memories. They had to find her.

A distant sound, soft but unmistakable—a faint whimper—cut through the silence. Hotch froze, his breath hitching. His pulse quickened as his eyes darted toward a door partially ajar at the far end of the room. He motioned for the team to fan out as he crept forward, fear and determination twisting in his gut.

He pushed the door open, revealing Y/N—bound, bruised, but alive—lying in the corner of the room. Relief surged through him like a wave, but there was no time to celebrate, she was breathing but not conscious. Morgan moved quickly to her side, cutting her restraints while JJ and Prentiss scanned the area, and Rossi stood guard. Hotch knelt beside her, his voice low but filled with an emotion he rarely let surface. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Her eyes, though tired and scared, widened when she saw him. Relief washed over her face “Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking for the first time in years.

She coughed softly as she tried to smile. “You… you found me.”

“Always,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms. “I’ll always find my wife.”

tagging some of my friends that I know would not mind reading an Aaron fic

@samuel-de-champagne-problems @boldlyvoid @reidsaurora @milla984 @thedancingcostumeyoungadult @reid-ingandweeping @ssahotchnerr

[thepascalparadox]

The Echoes Between Us

Those who bear great responsibility must be willing to sacrifice their lives for the sake of others.

Aemilia Aurelia, the sole daughter of Rome’s reigning emperor, Antoninus Justus, is resolute in her desire to be a Domina remembered for her compassion, grace, and unwavering devotion to her people.

Marcus Aurelius, a general of Rome's mighty legions, has pledged himself wholly to the service of the empire. His life is a tribute to duty—he would lay it down without hesitation for his comrades, his emperor, and the imperium he holds sacred.

Neither of them had dared to dream of love’s tender joy. Aemilia, bound by the chains of duty, knows her marriage is but a tool for political alliance, not the sanctuary of affection. Marcus, hardened by the burdens of command, has vowed to keep his heart as barren as fallow earth, so his focus in battle do not falter.  

To some, may be a burden. To them is an honor, a sacrifice gladly embraced. And yet, it took but a single glance, and everything changed. Chapter One - Beyond the Window

Chapter Two - Everything Feels...

Chapter Three - Echoes of Us

Chapter Four - Duty

Chapter Five - Everything Changes

Chapter Six - Away

Chapter Seven - Princess of Nowhere

Chapter eight- Responsability Above All Chapter Nine - A Fragile Bubble Chapter Ten -

· · ────────────────── ·𖥸· ────────────────── · ·

Author notes: please be kind! It is my first fic, English is not my mother language, and to be honest I don't know if will write something big! To give some "guidance": I really don't like the Y/n stuff, but maybe I'll put it in the first person? Not sure yet.  I'll try to do some Marcus's POV because it will be important to their story. I'll definitely put smut on these because I love it too, and I hope to make it very romantic. But there will be slow burn! Is what a had in mind since the beginning, so I'll be loyal to that. 

I'll try to be poetical as well because it is the only way I see Marcus behaving.

The Original Character has no specific physical description!! She has her physical abilities like Lucila in the movie like her gracious way of walking, long hair (no color specific yet) but a little shorter than the actress. 

Please, if you feel like you can KINDLY help me with the grammar and such, direct me! I know I need help, and I'm also very open to learn. But anything disrespectful I will ignore and know that it won't affect me (therapy in check!) That's it! I'm very excited to develop the character and maybe do something that will be remembered like I do to so many fics in here!

[buckyalpine]

Soft King Bucky

Im in the middle of writing this smutty fic with arranged marriage and King Bucky and in the middle of writing it, i had another thot pop up which I have to get out right now like RIGHT NOW. 

Imagine soft king Bucky on your wedding night. Its the first time you’ve ever been intimate with someone and your anxiety has been high all night because you know the maids and servants will inspect the sheets the next morning, your honor and dignity thrown to the wind.

But that's the way things were. 

You gave yourself to him, letting him touch you and make love to you, sealing the both of you together as you had promised in your vows. He was careful and soft, cradling your body to his, focused on knowing you would be protected along his side, putting your pleasure before his.

You wanted to melt into him, feel every ounce of the love he was willing to give but anxiety held you from letting go, worried about the aftermath, worried about if he see you were pure. 

The euphoria that consumed you both pulsed through you as you sat up, your stomach dropping at the stark white sheets. You scrambled up slightly in hopes of something but the sheets were anything but tainted, pure and clean as if you’d never laid on his bed. 

“I’m-I’m sorry-” Tears well in your eyes, panic rising in your chest, fearing the anger he’d feel, seeing you as tainted and impure. 

“What for darling” He whispered, concerned etched on his face as you let out a choked sob, not knowing what you could possibly go, there was no evidence to show you were pure, untouched before him, to show that he was the only man to have you this way. You squeezed your legs shut, curling up in a ball, shame consuming you, already hearing the words the kingdom would brand you. “My princess?” 

“I didn’t-I don’t understand, the sheets- you’re the only one I’ve-” You trembled as he pulled you into his arms, shutting your eyes, unable to watch his disappointment when he saw who he married. Bucky’s brows furrowed, taking a moment to understand why you were so distressed, hiding your face away. He thought over your words, tension crawling up his back, his jaw clenching when he understood your fear. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, keeping you close to his chest, pressing a firm kiss to your head, his lips brushing your hair as he spoke.  

“I agreed to marry the intelligent and headstrong princess to rule by my side because her mind and beauty had my heart when I saw her. A fierce woman fit to be by me, when she rode her horse into my kingdom alone, demanding justice for her people without fear of what could happen to her” 

He reminisced the day you strode into his castle, head held high, not a drop of fear in your eyes with a dagger strapped to your hip, sword firm in your hand.

He fell in love before you opened your sweet lips to tell him right off. 

“Look at me princess” He cupped your cheeks making you meet his intense gaze, thumbing away the tears that streaked your cheeks, “I shared my bed with you because I wanted to love you in in every way possible, not as a test of your worth” 

You were still tensed, curling up into him further while he moved you to lay on top of him, your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He pulled the covers over you, protecting you in a cocoon of warmth, tilting your chin to meet his eyes again. 

“You have my heart, that is as pure as it gets” tucking your hair away from your face, pulling you in for a kiss to your lips. “No one else gets to decide that, princess, no one” 

[ghostboneswrites2]

Hii!!! This account has been my go-to for daryl fics since ive been into him. And i really love the way you write!! But since im a sucker for angst and anything cry-worthy, ive been wanting a fic where its in pre-negan and to negan's first appearance timeline— after rick decides to bring maggie to the hilltop to figure out what's wrong with her, the reader is to stay with gabriel to watch out for alexandria, but considering how her anxiety for daryl and the other's safety is eating her she went out to look for them, using the tracking skills daryl had taught her. The time she found the group was at the lineup, Abraham's head already bashed to a unidentifiable pulp. Due to the scene she couldnt help but act in fury and tried attacking negan but his men was able to catch up and before she could even lay a finger on negan, she was kneeling aswell. this triggers Daryl, not being able to see reader in such danger as he vowed to protect her at all cost and punched negan which causes him to stumble. And instead of glenn dying at Daryl's outburst, its the reader who gets a taste of lucille.

And i leave the rest to you! :DD

Well first of all anon I am HONORED to be your go to 🥹 please accept this flower as a token of my appreciation 🌸

Anyways, I’m an absolute sucker for angst and you have INSPIRED ME. I hope you’re ready for the b i g sad.

*ahem* *cracks knuckles*

The Man Who…

Masterlist || Taglist

(Fem!Reader) (Reader Description: has hair)

Warnings: blood, gore, profanity

With your teeth chewing tirelessly at your nail beds, the flesh had become raw. A faint hue of blood settled in between the cracks on your lips.

A deep pit had formed in your gut. It was vacuous, consuming. Your nerves were eating you alive. Nobody had come back yet. You knew it wouldn’t be a quick trip, but still. And nobody had radioed back in over an hour.

You sucked in a sharp breath, partially in hopes that the sensation of air filling your lungs would calm the rapid pace of your heart.

“Is something the matter?” Gabriel asked you, having picked up on your restlessness.

“We haven’t heard from them.” You said simply, foot tapping against the ground. Gabriel pressed his lips together and nodded.

“The Lord is with them. They’ll be okay.” He assured you. With a scoff, your rolled your eyes. Who was he to preach to you in times of need? What did he care? He left his entire congregation to be eaten alive.

“I have to use the bathroom.” You announced abruptly, pushing your chair back and exiting the room with haste. You stomped down the hall into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

You stared at yourself for a while, begging your reflection for some guidance. Daryl told you to stay put. You made a deal with him a long time ago, never to break away from the plan unless you had no choice. However, would he sit idly by if he didn’t know you were safe? Surely not. You may have made a deal with him, but the two of you had also taken an oath to each other.

It was the silent, unspoken kind of promise. Neither of you needed to say it out loud, you just knew. You’d always protect each other, you’d always find each other, and you’d never leave the other behind. So why were you still standing there?

They would have contacted you by now if they were okay. That was the plan, and you never strayed away from the plan.

Without a second thought, you marched out of the bathroom and made hast to the armory, mapping out a plan in your mind as you did so.

……

The engine sputtered as you pulled the key from the ignition. You’d been driving for roughly an hour, following the route the others would have taken. You only pulled over when you saw the RV parked on the side of the road.

As you examined the scene around the vacant house-on-wheels, you were able to put Daryl’s teachings to use in identifying the tracks leading into the trees. The woods were eerily quiet as you followed the trail of disturbed undergrowth. Dusk was settling in, and the only sound to be identified were the rhythmic chirps of frogs and crickets.

Nightfall crept up on you quickly. Your breath had become visible in the moonlight, chills crawling all over you. Regardless, you pressed on. The night could throw anything your way, but you wouldn’t turn back. The idea that something was terribly wrong hadn’t eased. If anything, the feeling grew more dire, as if you were running out of time.

You had been consumed entirely by your thoughts at this point, worst case scenarios floating around in a sea of worry inside your mind. You were only brought back to the present when you caught a glimpse of shining lights just up ahead. Hurriedly, you crouched down into some shrubbery. The bright lights casted shadows through the leaves that danced over your face as you peered through the bushes to see what was going on.

It was hard to make out, but you could see a wall of people surrounding another RV. There was a voice, too, hidden behind the barricade of bodies. It was giving some kind of speech that you couldn’t quite pick up on. The people surrounding the scene were predatory in their demeanor, like a pack of hungry hyenas cornering their kill.

You watched for some time before you caught onto a second voice — one with more grit to it — and you recognized it immediately.

Rick was on the other side of these people, which meant the rest of your family was too. It meant Daryl would be there too.

As carefully as you could, you crawled closer, sticking low into to the shadows. You could almost make out what was being said when a strong pair of arms yolked you up by the waist. A gust of breath escaped you as your back impacted a solid chest. You flailed your arms and legs, hissing profanities in between your hunts and growls. Whoever it was struggled to contain you, but they were still just strong enough to hold you.

The people who previously had their backs to you parted, allowing entrance into their circle. The man who had your restrained dragged you into the middle. When you finally grew tired of struggling and had a chance to look around, you took it all in.

Your friends were all kneeling on the ground, shock and grief written all over their faces. People you’d never seen before surrounded you.

Your captor threw you down in to the dirt. You caught yourself with your hands. A pair of boots stepped in front of you. Your eyes followed them up to a face.

He was tall and menacing. A wide grin spear over his lips as he chuckled, swinging a bat over his shoulder.

“She was watching from the bushes, sir.” The man who found you reported.

“Huh.” He hummed, spinning on his heel to face Rick. “One of yours, I take it?”

Rick hesitated to nod. The man thought for a moment, as you continued to study the scene around you. When your eyes fell on Abraham — or, what used to be Abraham — a wave a nausea washed over you. You slapped your hand over your mouth to suppress a gag.

“Oh, shit.” The man chuckled. “Guess you missed that part. See, that’s payback for fucking with me.”

“You cocksucker.” You growled, scowling as you lunched up at the man. Arms wrapped around you again, shoving you back down into the dirt. He dragged you over to Rick and the others, kicking you into place.

That was all Daryl could bare. His chest tightened, a sharp feeling darting from his core down into he tips of his fingers. His face went numb with nerves. He had no time to think. Before you could even push yourself off the ground, Daryl sprung forward and landed a solid punch across Negan’s face.

Two men quickly dragged Daryl back into place, one of them holding a familiar crossbow to his head. “Let me do it, boss.” The man begged.

Negan recollected himself quickly, laughing at the audacity required to attack him under such circumstances. Had he not made himself clear?

“Nah. That’s not gonna work.” Negan shook his head. “I told you. No exceptions.”

In the blink of an eye his bat was raised. Time slowed down, nearly halted for those around you. You looked up, tears flowing softly down your cheeks. For a moment, you felt peace. The next moment, fear. Finally, pain. A searing, crushing, all-consuming kind of pain. A loud crunch echoed through the trees. Your ears rang loudly, vision blurry and red. You blinked rapidly, throwing to clear whatever was in your eyes.

Gasps and sobs followed. Your friends and family around you watched in horror as you struggled to sit back up. It didn’t seem like you really registered what happened. You were too disoriented from the first blow to feel the second one.

You gurgled as tried to speak, blood spurting from your lips. Daryl’s cries rattled his body, barely able to make a sound as his breath seemed to be knocked out every time the bat fell down on your skull.

The only thing you could see was a blur of lights and shadows, tainted red with your own blood. For everyone else, the view was much more gruesome. Bits of bone and brain were hanging from your frizz of hair, some of which had been snagged on Lucille’s barbed wire dressing and ripped out. Only two blows from the bat and your were fully incapacitated, reduced to a bloody blubbering lump on the ground with a dent in your skull.

Weak with horror, Daryl lost the strength to sit straight. He fell tot he ground, attempting to drag himself toward you. A heavy boot pressed into his back, holding him firmly down.

Even Negan seemed to falter at the sight of his own destruction. Killing women was a new low for him, even with his track record. Especially in such a barbaric fashion. A sniffed and frowned, gripping Lucille tightly. It was too late for second thoughts. Daryl had to be taught a lesson. He had to understand how things would be from now on. There would be no more bravery or heroism. There would only be Negan.

He raised the bat once more, glancing over to Daryl as he groveled and sobbed below Dwight’s boot. The pain in Daryl’s eyes struck a chord in Negan. It was an unmistakable kind of reaction. The kind you could only bring out of a man when you were taking away the person he loved. Negan knew that feeling all too well. His eyes fell back down to you, twitching and squeaking with pain and confusion. He decided the best thing he could do for you was to swing hard and end your misery.

The final blow was the loudest, the messiest, the one nobody could bare to watch. Blood and brain matter splattered across those close to you. Daryl, Rosita, Negan, Dwight. Everyone was silent, save for a few sobs and the only pairs of eyes that never left you were those of Daryl and Negan. The man who loved you, and the man that killed you.

……

On days like this, Daryl found his peace in the woods. His fondest memories were there.

It was the only place he could still be close to you. Near the small streams, he’d hear echoes of your laughter from years passed. He’d see the glow in your hair as the rays of sunlight filtered through the treetops, and he’d smell your sun baked scalp in the wind, just like when he’d hug you tight and press his nose into your hair.

You were everywhere around him, even if you were long gone. He’d visit this spot often. Some found this place to be haunted. Too many bad memories plagued the grounds. But, to Daryl, it was sacred. It was the last place he saw you, living and breathing.

Your body was gone from there, but your presence lingered. Your blood had soaked into the dirt long ago, mingling with the rain as it watered the earth to sprout new life. When he cremated you, he spread the ashes here. You’d be part of the earth now and forever, and he’d always have this place to visit when he missed you.

Hell, he always missed you. He never stopped thinking about you. The war was over years ago, and new threats had risen and fell. Still, you were all around him. He vowed to protect you always. He may have failed at that, but he’d never allow himself to stop honoring you. He was the man who loved you, and he’d be the man who remembered you even when no one else did.

He took a deep breath and looked down at the bouquet of flowers he’d picked at the Kingdom. A long time ago, when he first escaped the Sanctuary, he returned to this spot to decorate it. He’d lugged heavy stones and sturdy branches over and arranged them around the spot where you died. Every time he came back, he wove flowers into the crevices between the stones and twigs. He swept away fallen leaves and shooed away unwanted pests. He’d bring random trinkets and pieces of jewelry he thought you’d like and arrange them atop the stones. There was a blend of old tarnished items, dead flowers, and the new trinkets and floral arrangements he’d brought just now.

The most important thing, though, was the handwritten letter he’d always bring along. He’d wait until he had enough to tell you, then he’d write up a lengthy letter, just to sit and read it to you there. This time, he could only write of how much he missed you. How dreary life had become without you. How he missed your sarcasm, your giggle, your voice, your singing. He talked about Judith and RJ, and how he wished he could have had a child with you. He was always afraid of fatherhood, but somehow it seemed possible with you. If only you were there.

When he finished, he let the tears flow freely. He cried to you, cried for you. Eventually he’d clean himself up and place a kiss on the necklace draped over the biggest stone. It was your necklace, the one you had never taken off since he met you. It was the last tangible part of you he was able to touch.

“See ya later.” He whispered as he walked away.

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix @superbowlisgay @liizzygrant @eddiemunsonsupremecy

[nosferatini]

🕊️ The Season of Nightingales 🕊️

Chapter 33/36

3 Chapters to go!

Summary

The Second Coming looms large. Supreme Archangel Aziraphale vows to fix Heaven without asking the impossible from Crowley. As their effort is complicated by unexpected friends, a guileful Metatron, and a Heavenly floor full of the Blessed Dead—Aziraphale and Crowley find navigating their relationship is not mutually exclusive from saving the world from Armageddon.

Chapter 33 - The Ten Commandments

Excerpt:

The Decalogue, the Ten Commandments, the Words on the Twin Stones, began to morph before Aziraphale’s eyes. 

*I was right!*

He beamed back at the glowing message, and read it aloud with his most awe-inspired voice. 

“I am the Lord, thy God. Have Faith in Me. My Name is a blessing, use it well. Rest and Rejoyce this sacred day. You honor Me with this union. Live with him. Love him. Give him your soul. Share with him your knowledge. And envy not those who art in Heaven. For you shall want for nothing more.”

He was basking so nicely in the golden glow that it was jarring to hear his love’s gravelly voice pipe in with, “That’s not what it says.”

“I’m sorry?”

Read Chapter 33 on AO3!

Or…

🕊️ Start From the Beginning!🕊️

Huge hugs and gratitude to my beloved betas, @dbacklot99 , @demonsandpieohmy @addledmongoose and u/blackjeans93 from @goodomensafterdark for helping me scrub and polish my beloved fic!

@whickberstreetwriters

[byullielle]

Walls Could Talk // Bang Chan x Mafia!Reader

Part 1/3

Trilogy Playlist, Till Death Do Us Part, is what the vows contain. Hitched off to notorious mafia boss Christopher Bahng, and despite her volatile and bratty attitude–it'll be only through her that anyone gets to kill her husband.

Tags: Yakuza/Mafia AU, Est. Marriage, Marriage for Convenience, Eventual Lovers, Resolved Sexual Tension, Smut, Hurt/Comfort

Disclaimer: how chan looks in the freeze mv is exactly how he looks in this fic. themes and graphic descriptions of violence, drugs, substance abuse, panic attacks and disorders, trauma and traumatic responses are present, proceed with caution. chan does NOT cause the reader's trauma, however, and vice versa. MINORS DNI. NSFW Content.

4.5k Words

"Boss," he clears his throat, a nervous gait to him, "We failed to take her," he reports with a shaky voice, "Resistance…it was more than we anticipated,"

Your phone buzzes against the cupholder while the car speeds through the busy Seoul streets. Annoyance flares through your body like an allergy as you grab it with a wince–switching to airplane mode before a yelp escapes your lips. “Sorry,” Felix lowly mutters while concentratedly patching up the wound on your thigh.

For what it’s worth, it wasn’t your fault you were running late to the stupid function your husband was currently throwing. With the guest of honor late and wounded in her car, you hoped to god that he already started without you. Although if you didn’t have the police force under your family’s grasp Seungmin would’ve gotten 5 speeding tickets, at least. 

A loud yelp escapes you again, making Felix look up in concern while he’s putting pressure on the bleeding leg, making sure your pretty black dress isn’t soiled by blood. “Sure you can take it boss?” he asks with concern in his voice.

You huff, trying to lean back and endure the pain, especially the sore spot on your stomach after being kicked right by your diaphragm, “I can,”

You’ve argued to him many times that if he simply wanted to network he could do it without you there but apparently according to him, “Your presence is crucial,” and the second part, “Don’t run late,”

Normally, you weren’t one to be tardy to any function with special considerations such as this one but you highly doubt that was the conclusion your husband of 6 months would go to. Women and their womanly whims tend to make them late after all, you knew that much you’d get that specific flack for showing up almost an hour late. “Boss we’re almost there,” Seungmin announces before you groan and try to not mind the searing pain your body is going through before Felix places a square bandage on your thigh. You hand him the ice pack before turning your back so that he can put the dress back in place.

 “You sure you could walk properly in this state boss?” he asks, concern lacing his voice before handing you your gun. You hum noncommittedly, slipping the weapon on the garter holster on your more decent thigh before pulling the dress down completely, “Not that I have much of a choice, Felix,”

By the time your car rolls into the estate, Minho, one of your husband’s closest guards is already waiting outside, phone pressed to his ear wearing a very unamused and apathetic expression on his face it scares you a bit. “We should’ve brought Jisung with us,” Seungmin murmurs as he turns exits the car, immediately jogging to your side as Felix heads out first to give instructions to the valet boy. Seungmin reaches a gloved hand out while you take it, trying not to wince in pain as you smile sheepishly at Minho. “Sorry I’m late,”

“The boss isn’t happy,” he immediately counters as you fix yourself up one last time, “Well I’m here now,” you let out with a sigh before straightening your posture.

Minho pushes the door to the function open, the creaking sound of the closed door calling attention towards you while Seungmin and Felix take their posts on your right and left, a few steps back. Some of the chatter stops, all eyes on you but your eyes immediately land on Christopher’s.

And evidently, he isn’t happy.

The eye contact lasts for about 10 seconds, before your eyes start roaming in caution–starting to read the faces of the people who showed up. It grows with you, your stellar ability to read people's body languages and looks, the hardest challenge posed to you is still none other than Christopher.

However, today, he was wearing his heart out his sleeve. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," he grabs a pen nearby and taps it against the glass of wine he was nursing, "My beautiful wife," he announces, voice booming throughout the hall as the rest clap to your entrance. It does set off a few sensitive alarms off your head, the booming and drowning sound of claps flying all over, but you could feel Seungmin push you towards Christopher a bit more and snapping you out of the alarming noises. 

"Sorry I'm late dear husband," you smile, saccharine and sweet before gently cupping his cheeks, pressing a very chaste kiss on his lips, "I hope I didn't crash the evening too much," you whisper, close to his face before you feel him grip your arm tightly, "You're in big trouble,"

You bite back your retort, knowing better than to start being a smartass now. 'How big a trouble could I truly get when it comes to you,'.

People start approaching you, the prickle of the skin on your arm making itself known as you shake each and every person's hand while trying to read their faces. Some old, some new, all just the same. Chris still had his hand placed on your hip, knowing that the very condition you set him to show up in the first place was for the people to not get too comfortable.

They say it’s a possessive husband’s desire, you say it’s a wife who knows how to play her cards. 

Once the crowd around you has died down, distasteful comments of “Women getting ready,” and every variation of it finally gone, Christopher leans forward, “Where the fuck were you,”

You turn to him and smile, “Don’t you know women take forever to get ready, Christopher?”

A punch is lodged into your stomach as you groan. Felix digs his knife into the assailant’s back before tossing him aside, Jeongin is fending off two men single-handedly.

Who in their right mind would attack someone in front of their estate? Idiots. That’s who.

You roll onto your back to dodge an incoming attack from a knife, immediately extending your legs to kick the weapon away–as it flies mid-air you immediately rush to catch it before the assailant could. Once the hilt lands on your palm, you immediately slash the closest body part you can, handing a hit to the jugular. 

Blood splatters against your face, making you wince before getting up, the adrenaline from all the defense you have to do still fending off the stomach pain you know would hurt like a bitch. About 5 unconscious bodies are scattered around the perimeter of the infiltrated courtyard, blood painting the pavement. Felix and Jisung manage to hoard in another 3 men while Jeongin finishes off the last one, accidentally ripping his sleeve off as the body slumps down coldly on the pavement. “How many do you think are dead?” you wipe off the blood from your face, “Only two Boss,” Felix estimates, “We’ll clean up here, go get ready,” he immediately suggests before you notion to Jeongin, “Help me walk, I think one of them managed to get me on the thigh,”

“Yes boss,”

“Just tell me why I need to be here Chris,” you exasperatedly sigh, wrenching his hand off you before a sharp pain comes with your inhale. He furrows his brow and raises his hand again, this time a gentle grip encasing your shoulder, “You’re hurt,” he states as a matter of fact, “What happened, Y/N?”

“Just a little scuffle,” you excuse, “Christopher, I swear I have it under control. This is just collateral damage now tell me why I’m here,” you impatiently prod on, not bothering to even shrug his hand off. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”

“Do I need to shank someone?”

“No,” he shakes his head, finally lowering his hand, “You just have to observe. You’ve always been good at that,”

You sigh out to relieve some of the pressure off your stomach, nodding along with it before letting out a hum, “What exactly should I be looking for then,”

Christopher looks around and shakes his head slightly, taking your hand before pulling you into a more secluded corner of the venue, dimmed to its maximum before placing a hand on your back, both of you walking around with his head nearly pressed against yours. It looks intimate in an outsider’s view, so loving and so sweet. The contents of his information are anything but.

“The shipments are supposed to arrive today. Instead, we were met with a truck-full of cocaine gone,” he sighs while you keep your eyes on him, “Unfortunately, I suspect we have a rat amongst our ranks,” You furrow your brows, a frown on your face, “And you're suspecting the rat is here?” 

“That's what I want you to find out. Anything suspect, you immediately report to me,”

“How far back would it knock sales down?”

Chris shakes his head, “Not a lot, I got that covered at least,”

"Okay,” You nod, laying a hand on his arm before turning towards the crowd. You press a chaste kiss on his cheeks, nearly hitting the corner of his lips before you walk away from him, flipping your hair to the side while walking towards a few women with a confident stride. The stinging pain in your thigh was nothing, so long as you didn’t exert too much pressure against the leg, the stitches wouldn’t open. “Ah! If it isn’t miss Y/N!” one of them notices you as you take a glass of champagne from the passing waiter, a friendly smile immediately plastered on your face. “Hello ladies, mind if I join in?”

A few hours of chatting go by, and you're quite surprised you could find suspect so quickly. 

“Oh my husband would never even let me enter his office,” one of the ladies rolls her eyes, while the wife of one Jung Kwang-ho nods erratically, eyes obviously dilated while she goes on rapid-fire speech about her husband getting mad at her for wanting to stay with him in the workspaces. “And I can’t believe he named his nephew heir for his seat in office! Nephew!” she rants while flailing her hands wildly, the sweat on her forehead beading while she wipes them off with a handkerchief already in her hand, “That sister-in-law of mine isn’t even half reliable,” she mutters before you step closer to her, “Are you feeling warm Jung-ssi? You seem like you need a cooler place,” you suggest despite the air conditioning around. You had to ask Seungmin about the temperature later.

“Oh don’t mind me,” she giggles with a little tinge of unhinge-ness to it, “This is just my hot flashes darling, menopausal and all,”

‘Sure,’ couldn’t help but nod, however aside from another wife she was the only one profusely sweating. Continuing to converse with the wives, you couldn't help but keep a keen eye on her. ‘This couldn’t be good,’

The water swishes around as you scroll through the files Jeongin has sent you on your tablet, half your body submerged in the floral fragrance of the tub. You furrow your brows at the percentages presented to you, the loss of the drugs was not that great but something wasn't adding up, something amiss that you couldn't point your finger on. 

It was so reminiscent of something, long lost in the back of your mind but before you realize it a few drops of blood start dripping from your nose, a strong tremor shaking through your body as you feel your chest tighten. Tears blur your vision while the crushing weight on your lungs never lets out. You grip the sides of the tub, blurry vision seeing the bell your guards have left you for an emergency.

This was definitely one. Yet you couldn’t lunge forward to grab it, your bare body freezing cold in the water as nails scratching on the board tamper with your hearing. It was deafening, and you didn’t know if you were screaming or a silent wail unable to escape your throat. “Boss!” Jisung runs in with a towel in his hand immediately draping it over you not minding as the tips get dipped in the tub water, “Boss,” his voice softens, a steady hand on your shoulder, “Boss we’re here, should we call Soyeon?” he starts talking while trying to look at you in the eyes.

The searing pain in your thigh and stomach flare up, and then a stinging sensation by your spine jolts you up, tears flowing down as Jisung gently cajoles you back to reality. 

It goes by like forever, but once the pain stops, and nothing but the breathlessness is left, you look at him with wide eyes before he shouts for Felix to get another towel.

“What happened there boss?” he softly asks, making you gulp down and gasp out, “The attack,” you mutter, “It’s the same thing that killed my mother,” you painfully recall, closing your eyes before Jisung hums in acknowledgment, not pushing you further. “Boss, you wanna get out now? Some warmth would do you good,”

You nod and have him help you out of the tub, water dripping from the first towel as Felix walks in and hands you the new one, both of them leaving the bathroom with the door ajar as you dry yourself up. You’re careful to pat the wound on your thigh before looking back on the tub, realizing that there was blood coming from your nose. But the water was simply cloudy with oils and bath agents, with no trace of blood either in the water or from your nose.

You furrow your brows and take a deep inhale, trembling hands patting the towel around your body. The faster you were out of this bathroom, the better.

With paper in your hands, your footfalls echo against the mosaic tiles of the manor, desolate and lonely. You couldn’t help but have goosebumps rise over your skin as you tread the seemingly endless hallway to Chris’ office, but once you get there, you heavily pound against the heavy wood door.

Stepping back a bit, you come face to face with Changbin and his glock. “Changbin,” you greet with a slight nod of your head. He lowers his gun and guard down before bowing politely to you, opening the door wider to reveal Chris scanning through papers, desk filled to the brim with files scattered around. All the legwork he did the past week was catching up to him, and you were about to add more.

“Yes?” he mumbles, not even bothering to look up at you while signaling for Changbin to grab a chair for you. You wait for the velvet chair to be placed in front of his desk before gently smacking the papers against the file he was reading. “Jung Kwang-ho, familiar?" you question, trying to contain the residual trembles on your hands, “Yes, one of our valued assets, what about him?"

"Does his wife have a history of drug intake?"

“Not that I'm familiar with," he furrows his brows, setting the files aside, now fully facing you. "I met Jung Hyeon-ssi on exactly three occasions, and none of them seemed off,"

“Not anymore,” you nip at the corner of your lower lip, peeling off the slight excess skin with your teeth, “We talked. It's too early to say but keeping an eye on her and the Jung family isn't out of our best interest,” you mutter while averting your gaze.

He sighs, leaning back against his chair with a finger pressed to his temple, “I'll keep that in mind,” he responds, another sentence about to spill from his mouth before you get interrupted by a knock on the door. Both you and Chris turn to look before Changbin opens it and announces his presence. "Mr. Jung Yejun is here,"

In alarm, you immediately shoot out of the seat before making yourself comfortable on Chris' lap right after. 

"You didn't tell me someone was coming?" you scold through grit teeth while Changbin checks any weapons on the sudden guest. "Where would be the fun in that," Christopher smiles cockily at you, resting his hand on the shy of your satin-dressed back and pulling your legs closer with the other. "Oh you dog," you whisper in disbelief before the man himself enters.

"Oh, it's a pleasure to see you here today Miss Y/N, I hope you remember me," 

"I do," you smile, the mood immediately turning 180 come face to face with the guest. "Your aunt and I are well acquainted," 

Christopher draws small patterns on your back as you speak, your position on his lap making you seem like such a clingy spouse it makes you want to throw up. "Well, what brings you here Yejun-ah," Chris moves the process forward as he clears his throat. "Reports given by my uncle, our faction is already clearing out the fields to find the missing men belonging to the Jinyoung group, sir," 

"What missing men?" Chris then sits forward, hands still encasing you but adjusting you accordingly. Deciding to just end your suffering, you slide off his legs before placing both hands on the backrest of his chair, listening intently. 

"Your uncle hasn't reported any missing men yet, Yejun,"

“Haven’t you heard sir?” Jung hands over a file, your hand point blank on his arm as the sleeve rides up a bit, scales inked near his wrist. You peer over Chris’ shoulder and start scanning the files. It’s men from his faction of the city. “They’ve been gone for a while now, a few more added. I don’t know who’s responsible for this yet although my uncle is looking into it,”

Chris looks up at you, silently asking if you know these men. You subtly pat Christopher’s shoulder before he lowers the file and nods, “Thank you for your input, Mr. Jung, any more?”

“None sir,”

“Then you’re dismissed. Your information is highly appreciated,”

He nods wordlessly. Getting up, he makes a very quick exit to the office. Changbin starts checking in case he left some recording device while you take the file off Chris' hands. Flipping through the papers, you're shocked to see a few of the men from your faction of the group as well. 

"I thought only the cocaine was missing?" you question him with a scowl. "So did I," he sighs, "I'll look into it tomorrow. Jung would probably call me out-site. You keep on checking tabs on his wife,"

You nod, swallowing down the lump in your throat. Something was terribly wrong.

"Here Mrs. Jung," you kindly offer her a glass of iced water, "Oh thank you so much Y/N-ssi, what a darling you are," she smiles kindly, although her pupils are dilated widely there's still a certain endearment to how she looks. "How are you finding the party so far?"

"Oh, it's nothing too different. Nothing I haven't been to," she chuckles with whimsy laced in her voice, "Although the younger men are now in charge of their groups, it is my first time seeing their wives. Such as yourself," she starts to ramble. And you gladly let her, most of the time cocaine dependants are chatty, always giving out information with such little care in the world, it was quite convenient.

"How has your husband been treating you darling?" she asks, a hand on your arm before you couldn't help but flinch at the contact a bit, making her immediately detach from you. "Oh, sorry,"

"No, it's alright," you sheepishly chuckle, "I just get jumpy at times," you explain before straightening your dress, looking for Christopher amongst the crowd, "He's been wonderful," you try to dotingly muster, "He's been nothing but accommodating and kind to me,"

"Is that so?" Hyeon smiles, "Darling…you know you could tell me anything right," she woefully lays a gentle hand on yours, sweating profusely. You try to not let your brows shoot up in surprise at the sudden opening, "Oh me? I believe I don't have anything…" you try to excuse. 

"Do you…?" you question with hesitation, unsure about where the conversation was going. 

"Oh I do," she openly admits, there's no reason not to. Despite the confusion coursing through your body rumors about abuse regarding you aren't so far off the roster, "I've heard things my darling. This world wasn't always made for us," she smiles down at the glass of water, "But we can make it safer. At least your generation of wives,"

You control every nerve in your body to not snap in her direction, trying to ground yourself as you feign concern, "I don't quite understand," you gulp down before she hands you a slip of paper, a phone number scribbled onto it. "If Christopher touches you, call me, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay Jung-ssi,"

"Please, call me Hyeon-unnie,"

Leaning back against your chair, you furrow down at the piece of paper wedged between your fingers. Groaning you lean back and press your lips together. You suspect something off with the Jung family–with the messy case of the inheritance and Hyeon Jung’s potential drug addiction–it wasn’t the hardest to spot. What you were ultimately on the edge about was just how involved were they with your family.

For Hyeon to question how Chris treats you, an alleged abuse going on behind closed doors–where she got that information was beyond you. 

To Christopher’s credit, you and he got along well in terms of a loveless marriage– your ultimate free reign over your activities save for the occasional heiress chores you have to air out, and the respect you had for each other was a far cry from domestic abuse. Sure, the both of you were still aloof around each other, glorified housemates if anything but you knew he wouldn’t lay a hand on you. 

Letting a sigh roll out your lips, a knock comes from your door before you call out to let themselves in, "Felix," you tiredly smile at him, "Great timing I was about to call you,"

“Well I have a bit of bad news boss," he steps up in front of your desk, "What do you need?"

"Give me a background check on Jung Hyeon,"

“Sure,” he nods, “Here boss, the bad news," he hands you a folder. You thank him before he retreats from your office. 

Opening the folder, you immediately see photographs of a tattoo, serpentine in shape and scaly, a mamba of sorts. You turn the picture and see a name tagged to it, one of the men slain in the assault yesterday. Flipping through the pages is the same variant of the tattoo, clothed and unclothed.

You have a sense you’ve seen it before. 

Keeping up with the reading, the status of their factions are still unknown but there was a certain group they fell under. It didn’t take a genius–they were all part of the Jung family. Guards and marksmen. 

A sense of dread spills into your stomach, and you immediately scramble to reach out for your phone, contacting Hyunjin who answers in two rings, “Miss Boss?”

“Where is Chris?” you ask with urgency. “He took Minho-hyungnim with him, they’re on their way to Daego-do, last time he updated had to get gas. If you need anything Changbin is also there,”

“What exactly are they gonna do in Daego-do,”

“Check out the missing men case Jung-ssi presented yesterday,” was all you had to hear before hanging up abruptly.

“Fuck,” you spit out.

Running past Jisung and Changbin, you hot-foot it to the garage, grabbing your gun and keys. The pair look at each other and hurriedly follow, grabbing car keys no questions asked. You snatch your helmet out of the garage stands before putting it on hurriedly, the key already starting in the ignition while you tuck your gun in the holster on your leg. You mount your motorbike and rev up the engine while Jisung scrambles to start the car.

You immediately take off, smoke filling the garage. You speed out of the estate as fast as you can, time and a life on the line because Hyeon’s voice doesn’t stop–playing over and over again like a broken record. The verbalization of the realization catches up a bit late, through grit teeth and the wind pressure ahead of you, ‘Jung Kwang-ho is gonna ambush Chris,’ You weren’t a hundred percent sure, but your intuitions never failed you.

Your eyes are zeroed in on the road, speeding and weaving through cars as they honk at you violently. Seoul traffic wasn’t that bad for a 2 PM rush but fuck, were you tempted to hit the very end of that speed meter. You increase the speed drastically, tilting the bike back a bit before fully speeding off into the highway. Chris left 10 minutes ago, he couldn’t have made it that far yet, from what you knew Minho was a cautious driver, not even risking to speed up on the freeway beyond its limit.

You could catch up, you had to.

You squint your eyes to try and see further, trying to spot a black GMC but so far it was futile. Unless Hyunjin was wrong there was only one South Highway in the entirety of Seoul City. You lean forward, pushing the limits of the bike as it shoots off, gradually getting faster before a relieved gasp escapes you, seeing Chris’ car approaching a tunnel.

The panic in your system spikes, already seeing how many ways this could go wrong. So with a final boost of speed, you get close enough to the tail of the car, slowing down as you feel for your gun plastered to your side before pointing it at the wheel behind.

Then a gunshot goes off, narrowly missing you as you curse, motorbike wobbling a bit. You grit your teeth and speed up to the side of the car, trying to match its speed before targeting the front right wheel. The car’s brakes screech against your ears painfully, making it careen off to the side only to be stopped by the railings along the highway, smashing against the front of the car. You immediately step on the brakes of the motorbike, swerving it to the side before r immediately pointing your gun at the invisible gunman.

You squint and take two chance shots, a yelp immediately coming from the foliage atop the wall before a man crashes down the concrete, helmet emitting a crack sound as you see his leg shot. 

You look back hurriedly, seeing Jisung and Changbin try to catch up from the other side of the highway. You rush to Chris’ car, seeing the airbags activated before the door slams open, a gaping wound on Christopher's forehead, and a limp to his gait while holding his side, "What the fuck was that!" he yells as if he isn't in pain. You stand your ground and frown,"I'll explain later, help me get Minho out of the car," you push past him before rushing to the driver's side. Your own car stops, the doors flying open quickly “Fuck, boss what did you do!” Jisung curses as he gets out but you immediately signal to the dead man down on the highway.

“Get rid of the body quick, they probably retreated,” you look into the dark tunnel before you, “But this means war,”

Final disclaimer! This is not entirely accurate and is fabricated for the sake of storytelling. This is a work of pure fiction and does not represent any real-life people, events, or places.

> next part

> moodboard; sampler 1 | sampler 2

[bri-sonat]

Kisses Of Fire

Follow-up to Life Eternal

Pairing: Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Knight!Reader

Warnings: NSFW!! Major GoT spoilers, descriptions of violence & blood, angst, SMUTTY SMUT, oral sex, praise kink, semi-public sex, a tiny bit of angst again, fluff.

A/N: so as i was writing this i realized i totally made up my own timeline, oopsie, so i should clarify. the first two fics (enjoy the silence & life eternal) took place post the long night and pre the end. this fic catches up to that. this is (by my own opinion and admission) not my best work, but i've been working on it for so long and it's been approved for public reading, so, here it is. the finale. the end of our two beloved knights' love story. blah blah blah english is not my first language (obligatory warning). i hope the ending is satisfactory to all, enjoy!

big thanks to my dear bestie aron (@queerofalltrades) for reading through it and giving it the stamp of approval, and for helping me with the idea for this fic, without them, this fic wouldn't exist. and spouse heather (@pastanest) for helping me compact complicated GoT plot and for explaining more GoT customs to me.

It had been five months since that fateful night by the stables when your love had screamed after you with all her might with tears in her eyes. 

That had also been the last time she had communicated with you at all. 

You had sent her ravens, every Sunday for the past months, concluding your week, talking about your father's passing, and your mother. No message was ever sent back but your own, unopened and unread. Despite this you kept sending them, to keep your oath and to let her know you thought about her, every single day. 

In your messages to her, you often mentioned things you saw during your day that reminded you of her. Like the bright blue sky, equally as bright as her eyes and smile. The setting sun, just as beautiful and breathtaking as her. Any time you saw something dark blue, much reminding you of the unique armor she always donned. 

These small details were added for her to know that you hadn’t forgotten her and that she was always on your mind; had she read them, she would’ve been made aware of this fact. 

You couldn’t blame her for ignoring your messages. She was upset that you left, that you didn’t listen to her cries. That you had made her fall in love, and that you ripped her heart out of her chest. 

What you couldn’t understand, however, was her stubbornness, she knew you had no choice. In fact, she would’ve done the same had her father gotten ill, considering she’s his only heir. The only difference was she would’ve let you come with her; she would’ve begged you to. 

She would have hired you as her main bodyguard, as her master-at-arms, as Commander of her troops, she would have hired you as anything if it meant always having you at her side. Even as she ruled over Tarth. 

That was the difference between her and you, she had obligations and could not join you, even when she desperately wanted to, you, however, could join her. You weren’t sworn to anyone but your family, Brienne, and the Gods, there was work for knights everywhere, you could go wherever you wished. 

She went where her loyalties led her, and her loyalties always led her to the daughters of Lady Catelyn Stark. Despite the Lady’s murder at the red wedding years prior, the honorable blonde kept serving the daughters, because death did not release her from her vows. You admired her extreme loyalty and virtue, there weren’t many people like her left in the world you lived in, everyone was either greedy, monsters, liars, or all three. 

Your unopened scrolls started to pile up on your desk and you wondered how long she would keep this up. Your patience only lasted for so long and you couldn’t deny the pang of hurt that surged through you and your heart when yet another message was returned, unread. After a while, you started to wonder if she had even received your ravens at all. 

About one month after you had arrived at your family’s residence in Lemonwood, your father passed due to his illness, leaving you and your mother as the attendees of the family business. 

The four months that passed after that were spent keeping up the trade, meeting shipments at Planky Town as they came in from the Westerosi coast and the Free Cities of Essos, comforting your mother, and sending unrequited ravens to Brienne. 

To honor your duties as a knight, you offered your help to the Martell family, having history with them that went all the way back to your grandfather's childhood. The only living one of them called for you every now and then for advice, or just to help patrol around Sunspear. 

You were a familiar face for most, having spent a lot of time in the city growing up, and you recognized some people as well, stopping to have a chat with some; and others, you just gave a polite nod to considering where you knew them from. 

Brienne was a constant on your mind, even when you received the news one week after your arrival of Kings Landing crumbling, the deaths of Jaime and Cersei Lannister, and Jon Snow assassinating Daenerys Targaryen. 

A few weeks after the fall of the capital and the deaths, Prince Martell had to leave for unstated business in Kings Landing. He had asked you to look over things while he was away and you accepted, not inquiring what said business was about. 

He had returned about a week later and stated that Bran the Broken had taken the now melted Iron Throne and that The North had been established as an independent kingdom with Sansa as its ruler. The mention of her name brought forth memories of the last time you had spoken to her, recollections of Brienne, and eventually evocations of her by the stables. 

You had no news of your knight; you did not even know if she was alive. 

You desperately wanted to ask Prince Martell about Brienne. Just a simple, ‘My Lord, was there a tall blonde by Sansa Starks’ side?’ would have been adequate, but you hadn’t dared to verbalize the query in case the answer was no. If the answer was no, it meant that she was no longer alive, because your knight was always by the redhead's side as her sworn sword. 

Part of you hoped that if she had met her untimely death, you’d be notified; but had to come to terms with that there would be no reason for anyone to think of doing so. 

Around the same time of Prince Martell's return from Kings Landing, your raven returned, however, something was different this time. The bird carried both your scroll and another. You had hoped it was from Brienne, disappointment settled in when you saw that it wasn’t. 

The words on the Stark stationary were very few, only there to convey the brief piece of information necessary. Despite the lack of long and many sentences, the small amount was exactly what you needed to hear. 

“Brienne no longer resides in Winterfell. She has relocated to the White Sword Tower in Kings Landing. – Sansa Stark.”

She was alive. A flood of relief washed over you but was quickly replaced by sadness and confusion. She was alive but ignored your messages; and she was in the King's Guard, of course. 

You read the message again and detected that Brienne's and Sansa’s titles were missing in the message, meaning she had forsaken professionalism. This led you to the conclusion that she somehow knew about you and your knight's infatuation with each other. It gave you a sense of calmness, knowing that you would have been notified had she perished. 

It then broke your heart, realizing that the blonde couldn’t let go of her pride for one second to personally let you know of her relocating, she had to have someone else do it for her. You would have expected her to tell you so herself but apparently, that was too highly anticipated of you, so silly of you to think that she could be bothered to tell you personally, how unreasonable, how idiotic. 

There were whispers of a new Lord Commander, but no one knew who they were, only that the King's Guard now only consisted of two knights. You knew that Brienne was one of the members, considering her new residency but still had no idea who the Commander could be considering they had no distinguishing marks to tell them apart from the rest of the guard. 

So, until it was confirmed who had filled the position, it was unknown information and you made it a habit to spike your ears whenever you heard people mention ‘Lord Commander’ in conversation, hoping to learn what everyone was curious to know. 

——— 

Brienne’s life had been quite non-identical. She had spent the entire week after your departure mourning you. She noticed your absence in everything: her bed, her heart, breakfast, training, dinner, and the void was particularly draining after her patrols when your usual midnight meetings would occur. She had gotten used to your touch, now the only thing she felt was the cold hand of complete loneliness. 

During your stay, Brienne's squire, Podrick, had noticed the taller knight's infatuation with you and stayed away, giving you the space to speak uninhibitedly. You had not met him but had heard such wonderful stories of their adventures together. He instead lurked in the background, training with your love when you had split off during the day. 

With you gone, he had proven to be a comforting presence for Brienne, but the hole left inside of her was still gaping, a void that only you could seal. She trained him whenever she had free time, which was more often with you not there, and he grew stronger and stronger for each day that passed. 

Sometime after the Battle of Kings Landing, Brienne traveled to the Dragonpit to represent Tarth in the trial of Tyrion Lannister. From what she had been told by Sansa whose opinion she valued most amongst those present at the trial, Daenerys had gone against his advice, he had then denounced himself as her Hand, resulting in imprisonment for his defiance. 

Jon Snow, who Brienne had come to conclude was a good man after the time spent with him at Sansa's side, had then had a conversation with Tyrion within the cell he was held in, before murdering Daenerys.  

During the trial, Brienne sat and listened to Tyrion as he advised the gathered council to elect a new King to decide his fate. Expressing his reasoning, he suggested Brandon Stark. At this, the blonde knight assented, as did everyone else. 

Brandon Stark then met Sansa’s demand for the North to once again become its own sovereign kingdom, as it was for thousands of years.  

Tyrion’s punishment, as decided by King Bran, was to reclaim his position as Hand to the monarch and amend his previous mistakes in the same position, under previous rulers, for the rest of his life. Though the Lannister strongly opposed this idea, that only made the punishment more just, as, to him, it was not the reward that many would take the position to be. 

However, the minute Brienne had assented by saying ‘aye,’ she was ashamed to admit how little of her attention she devoted to the trial due to her mind being occupied by thoughts of you, but alas, that was her fate. She was well aware of the people around her and what decisions were made but she couldn’t have cared less. 

She had acknowledged your ravens, she just didn’t have the strength to open them, to read about your life without her. She knew she was being unreasonable, and she chastised herself for it. Despite how well aware she was of her unwarranted and irrational behavior, she ignored them, but you just kept sending them and it got harder and harder for Brienne to just leave the inviting scrolls; however, she knew it would only hurt her more to read about your Dorne adventures. 

In hindsight, however, those messages would’ve been something much more joy-inducing to have of yours, compared to the only thing she had in her possession. 

After the trial, Bran had approached Brienne, and offered her the position of Lord Commander in his Kings Guard, he was a very blunt man, the King, and she had been a bit surprised with just how candid he was. She had managed to hide her initial reaction and had humbly accepted his offer. Sworn the oath at the Stark’s request and stated that her squire is yet to be knighted and that she would do so with haste. 

Podrick was ready and had been for a while, but she was called to Kings Landing for the trial before she had the opportunity to knight him. This worked out in his favor however, considering being knighted by someone from the King's Guard and the Lord Commander of it, was seen as prestigious; and would earn him substantially more respect than if she would’ve knighted him when she was still a knight herself. 

The King had nodded at her declaration, “I will ask Sansa to have someone pack up and send your belongings here. Tell your squire to come see me as soon as he is a knight. In the meantime, I believe we have some measurements to get for your new armor.” 

“Your Grace, there is no need for that. I have no belongings in Winterfell I’d like to keep. I brought everything important with me.”  

“Are you sure, Lord Brienne?” 

“Yes, Sire.” 

“Very well. Now, come with me.” 

Podrick, who had followed Brienne from Winterfell to Kings Landing, had been approached by the taller knight the day after the trial. 

He had a puzzled expression on his face as he watched her and she knew he had a question to ask, she would have preferred if he had kept his mouth shut about it but had allowed him to ask it anyways; regretting it as soon as he spoke. 

“Lord Commander?” Hesitant in his tone, he had looked up apologetically at Brienne with the hope that she wouldn’t scold him for granting his inquisitiveness to take over. 

“Yes, Podrick?” She stared down at him and she could almost see the gears that had been turning in his head; looking for the most well-mannered way to phrase the words that followed. 

“I apologize for what I am about to ask but I am afraid curiosity has gotten the best of me. Whatever happened with the knight from Dorne?” She released a sigh, there it was. 

“I do not wish to speak of them, not because there is anger but because there’s too much pain.” Brienne had remained stoic in her answer and in her facial expressions, but her insides had been bleeding, almost like she had been impaled by a sword and left to die, bathing in a pool of her own blood. 

That was the first and only time she and Podrick ever spoke about your departure. The shorter man had opened his mouth to say something else but was quickly interjected by Brienne. “Come along Podrick. There’s something we need to do.” 

“Yes, My Lord.” 

As they walked through the ruins of Kings Landing, Brienne wondered if she should’ve been the one to send a raven to inform you of her move to another kingdom, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do so. 

She had instead asked Sansa if she would send one, to which she agreed. The redhead had seen the affection you held for each other and knew that there was more to your seemingly professional relationship. Brienne hadn’t known the reason for the Stark’s compliance but was grateful for it either way. 

All the memories that had been created in Winterfell were painful for Brienne and she found it almost relieving that she didn’t have to return, there was too much sadness there. She did not know when you would return to her, even if it had only been around one month since you had left, so leaving all the woeful memories behind was easier than she had thought. 

The happier ones were harder though, the memories in the courtyard, her room, the mess hall, the bathhouse, your room. The room where she had found the letter that changed everything. 

She had kept the note. It was now stained with dried tears, the paper damaged by the salty drops; ink smudged in various places. She kept it somewhere safe, out of sight from wandering eyes but close by. 

It was read every single night with tears in her eyes before she went to sleep, desperately trying to remember what your voice sounded like, to no avail. 

She had brought it with her to Kings Landing for the trial, not wanting to leave without it. Reading through your words had become routine, and it had gotten to the point where she could not sleep if she did not read your letter before bed. It was one of the first personal items to take its home in her new living quarters.  

Brienne and Podrick had walked in silence as he took in the crumbled kingdom. The fire had stopped but the damage was still apparent. Blackened remains of destroyed buildings and dried blood on the ground. 

The charred corpses had been moved the day before, given a proper burial in unmarked graves, at Tyrion’s request. To have it done within a day, the blue-eyed knight had assisted; her strong arms able to carry double the weight. 

It had been a grisly sight, and even Brienne, who had seen plenty of violence in her days, had felt a hint of nausea and sorrow go through her at the sight of the destruction. The smell hadn’t made it any better. 

The two had turned a corner and Brienne entered a large building that surprisingly hadn’t been affected by the attack, far enough away from the dragon's path of destruction. The room had been dimmed, rays of sun coming in from the small windows lining the walls; standing along it was Tyrion, his small form lurking in the darkness. 

The tall knight stopped abruptly in the middle of the room, Podrick had done the same a couple of feet behind her to avoid crashing into Brienne’s back. 

“Tyrion is here to bear witness. I told him that there was no need, but he insisted.” Her voice had been flat, stern. She had turned on her heels, faced him, and pulled out her sword from its sheath, the metal scraping against metal had echoed, the sound bouncing between the bare walls. 

“Kneel, Podrick Payne.” He had gotten down on one knee in front of Brienne, gazing up at her, and she had proceeded to lay her sword on his left shoulder, her eyes boring into his. “In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave.” 

She had shifted the metal of her blade to his right shoulder, carefully placing it down, mindful of the sharpness of the sword's edge. “In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just.” 

She had switched shoulders again, the metal of the sword gliding in the air. “In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent.” She placed her sword back into her scabbard before she had stated her last words, “Arise, Podrick Payne, a knight of the Six Kingdoms.” 

One month after your departure, Brienne had knighted Podrick. After this, she and Tyrion took him to see Bran, just as he had requested one day prior. The King had asked him to prove his fighting skills, suggesting he spar against his teacher, “Lord Brienne has trained you and I have no doubts in her skill, I am sure you are more than qualified. It is just a formality. I’m sure you understand, Ser Podrick.” 

“Of course, your Grace.” 

They had stepped out into a large somewhat empty clearing to give the two knights the space they required, and Podrick had proved his swordsmanship by fighting the blonde, King Bran being more than satisfied after seeing him hold his own against Brienne’s powerful blows. 

“That’s quite enough. I can tell Lord Brienne would floor you if we kept going and I need you both in prime health. Approach and kneel.” 

Podrick, who had read every book the word ‘knight’ was mentioned in and who had Brienne teach him everything she knew, had gotten down on one knee, and sworn the oath of the King's Guard, just like the tall woman had the day before. 

“I swear to ward the King with all my strength, and give my blood for his. I shall take no wife, hold on lands, father no children. I shall guard his secrets, obey his commands, ride at his side, and defend his name and honor.” 

“Arise.” 

With this, Podrick had been integrated into the King's Guard and Tyrion had taken him away for measurements. Brienne had asked Bran what she was to do until the resources for reparations arrived, and he had in turn told her to assess the damage done to the armory, and see if anything needed to be replaced. And to update the Book of Brothers: to complete Jaime’s entry, and add her own. She had done so with haste. 

Two weeks later, the supplies arrived in Kings Landing which was still in ruins. She, together with Tyrion, had met them at the Gate of the Gods, which was a large hole in a wall after the dragon attack, clad in her new shiny gold armor with extensive white enameling and a white cloak draped over her tall form. 

She had come to stand by Tyrion’s side to discuss something, but he had asked her to stay when she moved to leave his side, it was mostly so she could act as a waypoint, of sorts, for the convoy. It was also so he could analyze her up close. 

The small council had held a meeting and discussed what would come next, the reparations of the kingdom had been a unanimous agreement. They had wanted to rebuild the brothels first, but Brienne had quickly expressed her disapproval at the thought of prioritizing them over the rebuilds of the royal fleet, which clearly took precedence due to the lack of ships following the war. 

The four months that followed after the arrival of the supplies were filled with Brienne overlooking some of the construction whenever she didn’t have anything else to do and performing her Lord Commander duties; whatever they ended up being, they varied from larger decisions to smaller ones. 

Some days she just spent her hours in the armory, polishing and sharpening every sword; and some she spent in the White Sword Tower, either re-reading previous entries in the Book of Brothers or residing in her quarters. 

She was so busy with her new duties that she did not have the time to respond to your ravens, even if she could gather the emotional strength to do so. 

Five months after your separation, Bran had requested her attention, sending Tyrion to collect her. 

He had found her in the armory taking inventory of the same gear she had checked the day before. When asked, she told everyone it was to ‘make sure no one stole anything’ but it was really to keep her mind occupied with something other than you who plagued her mind day in and day out, even in her slumber. 

“The King wishes to speak with you, Lord Brienne.” Tyrion interrupted her almost obsessive counting, arriving when she had finished sharpening the last sword. He stood in the doorway as he watched her get up from the stool she was sitting on, put away the sword she was holding, and walk towards him. 

“Of course, Lord Hand. Lead the way.” 

The walk was quiet, for the most part. Brienne was content with the silence, Tyrion; not so much. 

“Forgive me for being informal, Lord Commander, but; what is the matter with you?” The question staggered Brienne, her entire being stalling for one second, too stunned to move, before she continued her prior movements, resuming her stroll by the shorter man's side. 

“Pardon?” She knew exactly what he was referring to. Her behavior had been strange, to say the least. Erratically counting and whetting, staring off into space, and getting lost in her own thoughts. Brienne had always been a bit unusual and turned in towards herself, but it had been even more so these last couple of months. 

“Brienne. I can promise you that no one is stealing weapons from the armory during the night in peacetime. The armory which, need I remind you, is locked up with you as the key holder. So, what the hell is your issue?” Tyrion had stopped right outside the building Bran was currently in, glaring up at Brienne with furrowed brows and caring eyes. 

“I-” she released an elongated sigh, “I do not wish to talk about it. What does the King need to speak to me about?” Switching the subject to the reason she was standing there with him in the first place, hoping to remove herself from the theme she wasn’t entirely comfortable conversing with Tyrion about. 

The shorter man let out a sigh, admitting defeat, knowing he wasn’t getting anything out of her. “I do not know. He did not tell me.”  

“Very well.” With this, Brienne pushed past the shorter man who was left standing in place, annoyed at the taller woman’s stubbornness, which seemed to be an ongoing theme nowadays. 

Her white cloak flowed behind her as she navigated her way through the corridors, her steps echoing in the empty hallways. 

“Lord Brienne!” Bran called her name as she entered the room he was residing in, stopping what he had been doing before she arrived, “I’m glad you’re here. I have something to ask of you.”  

The blonde knight quickly kneeled before him and he just as quickly ushered her up to her feet, claiming there was no need for such formalities. Brienne didn’t quite understand why but complied either way. “Sire, what can I do for you?” 

“I need you and Ser Podrick to escort a shipment from Planky Town. You will travel there by ship, collect the shipment, and bring it back. I’ve already spoken to Davos, and he has given you temporary command of one of his ships. It’s an incredibly rare material and I need my best men on it. I know it’s different from your usual duties but treat this mission the way you would any other.” 

The thought process that went through Brienne's head after Bran had started speaking was: Planky Town – Dorne – you. There was a hurricane of emotions whirling around inside of her that destroyed anything in its path, and as in every hurricane, the eye was quiet, which allowed her to process the whirlwind. 

She was ecstatic at the opportunity to finally visit Dorne, and maybe, if the Gods were good, cross paths with you. She was also guilty and terrified at the thought of meeting you again. Running into you after ignoring your messages for months would surely prove to be an unpleasant experience. You’d surely be angry, disappointed, and upset; all at her. But at least she would get to see you, even if it was with you staring daggers her way. 

Her mind was racing, running faster than it ever had and Brienne couldn’t keep up. Until a noise ripped her out of her thoughts, permitting her to catch up to her sprinting brain. The door behind her opened and closed, signaling that someone else had entered the room. This was when she realized she had been standing still and in silence for far too long, Bran looking at her with an unreadable expression as he waited for her response. 

“Yes. Of course, Your Grace. When do we depart?” Brienne remained as professional and stoic as usual, even when her mind was anything but. She had zoned out again, become lost in her own thoughts like a scared little girl getting lost in the woods with no way out. 

“Tomorrow at sunrise. Be at the docks by then.” 

“Yes. Anything else?” 

“No. You are dismissed, Lord Brienne.” After vocalizing the command, Bran looked away from the Lord Commander and went back to his previous activity. Whatever that was hadn’t been observed by the blue-eyed knight, and she simply couldn’t be bothered to find out. 

She bowed before taking her exit, passing Tyrion as she left the room. He looked at her warm-heartedly, giving her the smallest of smiles and a small nod which she didn’t reciprocate, a scowl painted on her lips. 

If she wasn’t so focused on keeping the hurricane inside of her in check, and on preventing any tells to leak out of her hardened exterior onto her face, she would have given him the same back. Instead, she just kept her mind set on maintaining a straight face. 

The second the heavy door closed behind her, she let the stone face fall, and an intrigued smile replaced her former frown. Her booted footsteps echoed in the barren hallways as she went back the way she came, her long white cloak floating behind her. 

“Dorne, huh?”  

——— 

You rolled up what must have been the twentieth message for Brienne, before strapping the scroll to your raven. It was a warm day in Lemonwood, as it was every day in Dorne, the Summer Sea waves hitting against the cliff side breaking the pleasant silence of the early Sunday morning. 

Your raven, Bartholomew (actually named Branoc by your parents, but you thought that was a little bit boring), was sent on its way and you sat at your desk, watching the bird as it flapped its coal-black wings, carrying yet another message for your love. 

The usual distant bustling noise of Planky Town had yet to begin, it was still too early but you and your mother had a shipment to meet. No rest for the traders. 

Your family had since your great-great-great grandfather been a part of a large trading company, landing you as one of the wealthier families in Westeros.  

The business had been passed through generations and now it had landed on your mother's lap. You were delighted to assist her for however long she needed you but the longing and yearning for Brienne’s touch was getting to be too much. You needed to get back to her. 

Sighing, you put your stationary, ink, and quill away, before rising from your seated position at your desk. The armor you had worn in Winterfell had been swapped out for a more heat friendly one. Specially crafted to allow breathing and protection, the Dornish colors decorate the leather gear. 

It rested on the stand in your room, the fur coat and cold-resistant steel armor gathering dust in one of your closets. You hadn’t laid eyes on either of the items since you disregarded them five months ago. 

The trip here had been a long one, riding along Kings Road before turning onto Rivers Road; before finally arriving in Lannisport just west of Riverrun. Once there, you were able to hop on one of your family’s trading ships, taking you back to Planky Town. 

The only comfortable way to Dorne when traveling from another kingdom, was by ship. The terrain and road through the Red Mountains were unforgiving and extremely hard to traverse and there was no way you were putting yourself through that. The ride through the barren desert after the mountains wasn’t all that inviting either. 

The difference in climate had hit you right away, the searing sun of Dorne not quite the same as the biting chill of The North. Your fur coat had been discarded soon after passing The Trident and turning onto the road that led you to your destination. It rained moderately in the Riverlands, therefore, you had to take it off to insure its dryness.  

When it started raining, like you had expected it to do, you had to take a break, seeking shelter under the protecting crowns of the trees. The fur coat proved quite useful as an extra blanket during the cool nights, and you pretended that it was the warm embrace of Brienne enveloping you instead of the cloak. 

After you had boarded the ship in Lannisport, you were able to take off your armor for the first time in days, letting the cool breeze of the sea wash over you. The familiar salty smell of the ocean reminding you of your childhood. 

The sound of knocking on your door pulled you out of your reminiscent state. Quickly pulling yourself to the present, you took large strides toward your door and opened it in a swift and controlled motion. 

You were met with the weary and tired eyes of your mother, she hadn’t slept well since the passing of your father, and you couldn’t blame her, neither had you. 

The sleeplessness was a combination of the grief from losing your father and the loss of Brienne's warmth. You had slept in her arms only once, but that singular time was enough to have your body aching for more affection from the tall blonde woman. 

Most of this you wrote about in your messages. The messages she couldn’t even be bothered to open because if she did, she would realize you missed her so. That you would leave as soon as you weren’t needed, and that you would return to her arms as fast as humanly possible. 

“Good morning, Mother.” Your voice was softer than usual, it always was around your mother nowadays, scared that any other tone would disrupt the mourning process she had begun. 

Her voice was weak, frail. Throat hoarse from crying, “Good morning. Just wanted to see if you were awake.” She did this every morning. Checking up on you. She did it when you were growing up and continued doing so when you returned. It was an even more comforting action this time around, serving as a reminder that you had each other to lean on. 

“I am, have you eaten?” Your mother's eating habits had been on the rocks lately, too busy with the business that she simply forgot to eat, sometimes she didn’t want to, her appetite gone. So, you asked her, every day, if she had eaten. Sometimes she said yes, sometimes she said no. 

“Yes. Have you?”  

You hummed in response to her question, “I ate when I woke up, I’m ready to go when you are. I’ll just need to gear up.” 

Your mother nodded, “I will wait for you in the carriage.” With this, she turned around and left. Making her descent down the carpet-clad stone stairs. 

After closing the door, you walked to your armor stand by your window that overlooked the Summer Sea and began removing each piece, attaching them to your form. 

As you put on your leather armor, you watched as ships of many different sizes sailed past your window, floating on the sea in the searing hot Dorne sun. The sun's rays invaded your room, casting it a beautiful golden glow, and warming your skin; the pleasant smell of the sea like a comforting blanket over you. 

Some of the sailing ships came from the west and some from the east. Some were sailing for trading companies, and some were sailing for travel. Their flags and sails fluttered in the warm air, hulls breaking through the water. 

Eventually, all the leather gear had been secured to your form, the last part had been your sword, and with everything in place, you abandoned your room; briskly walked down the same stairs your mother had, and stepped out into the warmth of the morning. 

Your mother stood by the carriage, conversing with the coachman. The sight of you approaching interrupted their conversation, the coachman opening the door to the roofed wheelhouse. Allowing your mother to enter and closing it once she had sat down inside. 

The carriage did not have any windows except for some small springs, meaning you didn’t have a good view of the scenery and environment around you. So, to make sure you were able to keep a look out for potential dangers, you sat up front with the coachman. 

You did not mind doing so however, he was a very interesting man with many stories to tell and you often enjoyed the chats you had with him. 

The ride to Planky Town wasn’t long, your ancestors chose to settle in Lemonwood for the short travel distance, taking into account that the port was a regular visit. 

On the way there you passed several travelers, and you recognized most of them as inhibitors of the other nearby settlements. You didn’t know any of them particularly well, only having met them a few times during formal events. Still being familiar with them and wanting to show civility; short pleasantries were exchanged before continuing your journey. 

It didn’t take long for the lively sound of the now awake port town to reach you, the familiar sight of the Greenblood river opening its mouth in front of you, running out into the vast sea. 

As every Sunday, it was reserved for shipment collection, meaning it wouldn’t be as busy as it usually was the rest of the weekdays. Despite this, there was still a large number of people going about their business of resupplying or trading. 

The coachman stopped your carriage a distance away from the docks as he usually did to prevent blocking the road. He stepped off to open the door for your mother, who had stayed silent during the ride as she usually did. 

You stepped off after him, watching your mother exit the wheelhouse, and walked up to her side, hand on the hilt of your sword and back straight. You were here as a traders’ child, yes, but you were also a knight. 

It wasn’t often that you were asked to make your rounds down here, yet on rare occasions you were. Even when you weren’t here on such business you still wanted to keep up appearances, you knew Brienne would. 

Shooting your coachman a nod and a smile, you linked your mothers' arm with your own and started trekking toward the docked ships. “Is it the usual today?” Wanting to make conversation, you asked your mother something that would pull her out of the damaging mindset she had surely found herself in. 

“Yes. Meet the shipment, and see that everything is as it should, some is unloaded here to be sold, rest is shipped to other port towns to be distributed by our partners.” It was like clockwork by now, and you knew it by heart, your mother knew that you did and found it kind of you to ask. She knew why you did and appreciated the distraction from her thoughts. 

A quick hum was all you gave in response, your steps taking you closer to the harbor until you reached the docked trader ship. Letting go of your mother's arm you turned to look at her, “I will stay on land and take a look around. Wait here until I come back.” 

She gave a quick nod before she stepped onto the wooden vessel, you saw your mother meet the captain and he in turn gave her the inventory list for her to check off. You began turning on your heel to walk away but before you could, something caught your eye. A ship from the royal fleet. 

It hadn’t been the ship in itself that stopped you, it had been the person you saw on board it. You had seen her faster than you cared to admit, almost like your eyes had been searching for her. 

She was standing as robust as she had done the first time you saw her when you first arrived in Winterfell. Her hands behind her back, the wind blowing through her short blonde curls; the white fabric that draped down her figure danced in the Summer Sea wind. 

She stood on the quarter deck, donned in her gold-white armor that reflected the sunlight, she looked so handsome in it, so at home. She was a White Sword, this you were aware of, but you were still nonplussed to see it, to have it verified. 

You were so used to seeing her in her dark armor. The dark armor that she had worn during the duration of your stay, the armor that you had begun to associate with her. Seeing her in anything else but, was an abnormal sight. 

As the ship inched closer and closer to the docks, you saw that there was detailing on her chest piece, a raven. Fitting for the three-eyed ravens' Kings Guard. 

From what you could percept, Oathkeeper still sat loyally at her side, and you wondered how she had taken the news of Ser Jaime's death. You knew that they had been... relatively close, she had described their relationship as ‘an unexpected companionship,’ which was really her fancy (and courteous) way of saying ‘it was a war, he was an extra sword, we spent time together because we had to.’ 

Truth was, Brienne didn’t take the announcement of his passing that hard. Still too focused on the loss of you. In her mind, she had tolerated Jaime, not seeing him as a close friend, and therefore did not feel the need to mourn him. 

The grief from your departure was still a fresh wound in her heart and even if she did feel the need to shed tears for him, it would be too overwhelming to do so for two people at the same time, and she refused to put you aside to lament Jaime Lannister who meant so little to her. So, it was an easy choice for her. You took precedence over everything else. 

You were frozen in place, watching her as she stood tall and proud. Anger bubbled up inside of your chest, along with sadness and betrayal. Yet at the same time, you were so gleeful to see her again after such a long time, and even though you wanted nothing more than to run into her embrace; the fact that she hadn’t responded to your ravens in months stood true. 

You didn’t want to see her, and you did not want to speak with her. With the feelings running amuck inside of you, you feared that if put face to face with her you’d say some things that you couldn’t take back. Hurting her even more than you had already done; ruining any chances of ever reconciliating and returning to each other's arms. For now, the best choice was to leave and blend in with the crowd before she could spot you, but it was too late. 

The second her ship had docked, and she had stepped onto land, she had seen you. Her intense blue eyes locked on to yours and the moment they did, they flashed with what looked like regret and guilt. 

It was too much to handle, the same blue irises that kept you up at night, that haunted your dreams, were now staring at you in such a way that made your heart twist inside of your chest. 

Her mouth was hanging open the tiniest bit, eyebrows furrowed. She was surprised to see you. If there weren’t so many thoughts swirling around in your head, you were sure that you would match her expression, shocked to see her down here. Shocked to see her at all. 

Your head was a battle arena, your thoughts fighting, trying to bring you back to your senses, to help you make a decision, and fast. The one who ended up coming on top was the one for before, the one telling you to leave; the one telling you to run to her getting left in the mud. 

You started to walk towards the crowd, planning to disappear in the swirl of people but Brienne was taller than most people there and was able to periscope over everyone, meaning you and your Dornish leather armor stood out like a beacon on a dark night. 

She started to follow you, Podrick trailing behind her trying to keep up with her broad strides. The continuous stream of people helped with keeping a distance between the three of you, but there were only so many traders and merchants, and you eventually reached a clearing, close to where your carriage was parked. 

There was no hiding from her now. 

The familiar voice of Brienne called your name, shivers running down your spine at hearing it for the first time in five months. You had forgotten what she sounded like, just how beautiful and deep her voice was, how the accent compliments it in the most fantastic way, working in harmony to make everything she said sound like poetry. 

“Stop!” you didn’t obey her command, instead, you kept moving forward. Her steps picked up, her long legs faster than yours, and before you could process her closing in on you, her hand grabbed your wrist, pulling at it slightly causing you to abruptly stop, and turn around. 

Suddenly, the only thing in your vision was her piercing eyes as they searched your face for any sign of forgiveness, love, or adoration; only finding the same stone-cold expression you had worn when your eyes met minutes ago. 

She had hoped that her proximity and touch would bring back the soft expression you used to have for her. It did not. Instead, you rejected her touch. Ripping your wrist away from her grasp, almost aggressively so, almost like her touch was hot coal burning you through your protective leather gear. 

She gazed down at you, a silent plea behind them for you to speak to her, to say anything. Just wanting to hear your voice. You in return stared up defiantly at her, displaying your anger by taking a step back, distancing yourself from her. She took this as a confirmation that you had become repulsed by her, just like everyone else; her weakness and pure selfishness had caused you to despise her. 

In truth, the moment she had gotten close, the all too addicting scent of her had invaded your senses, making it so much harder to stay focused. The step back was to display anger, yes, but also to step away from the inebriation that was the smell of Brienne. 

“Ser Brienne.” You spoke stiffly, your face full of indifference. She remained neutral, but to you, she was an open book. The way you said her name hadn’t gone unnoticed by the blonde, and you saw the flash of hurt in her eyes when you said her name. The usual affection you held for her wasn’t there anymore, and she completely understood why. 

She opened her mouth to say something, getting interrupted by Podrick before she could, “It’s actually Lord Commander-” Brienne held up a hand, successfully interrupting him back, but not before you heard her new title. Lord Commander, huh? 

“Ser Podrick! Do you not recognize them?” So, this was the Podrick you had heard so much about. He was shorter than you expected him to be, but maybe that was because he stood next to one of the tallest people in Westeros; she made anyone look short. 

She had broken your eye contact to stare at the younger knight with her usual glare. He looked at you once again, observing you. The second it clicked; his mouth fell open in a silent ‘oh.’ He cleared his throat before mumbling a silent apology to both you and Brienne. 

“Go and wait for the shipment. Leave us.” The Lord Commanders' voice was harsh, leaving no room for objections. 

“Yes, My Lord.” He rushed off, leaving you and Brienne alone. She turned her head back to yours the instant Podrick disappeared out of sight into the flow of people. 

“Lord Commander?” The voice that exited your mouth was incredulous. You couldn’t believe your ears. She had been appointed the highest position in the King's Guard and secured a spot on the King's Council, and you hadn’t been informed. The love of your life hadn’t told you of a major update in her life. 

“Yes.”  

“You were appointed Lord Commander of the King's Guard and I find out today. How long?” You almost did not want to ask. Not wanting to know how long she had been keeping this from you. 

You hoped she would say 'a couple of weeks’ or ‘about a month’ because then you would understand the lack of communication. You were understanding of the task of taking on a new title and the job that came with it. If she was in the beginning phases, you would have understood. Instead, you were greeted with the opposite. 

“About four months...” 

“Four months-! You are unbelievable, Lord Commander.” You spat her title back at her, there was such wretchedness in your voice, such wrath. What you had feared was just a couple words ahead, the fear that you would say something that would be irreversible. There was no closing the gates of Hell now. 

“Please just call me Brienne, like you used to.” Her voice had shifted into a gentler one, attempting to diffuse the situation. You scoffed at her. Was she really trying to ‘go back to the way it used to be’ after making no effort in communicating with you at all? 

“I don’t know if I want to refer to you as anything anymore.” There it was. The gates had been opened, and anything coming out after this was meant to hurt. Meant to drive a knife into her stomach and twist it. Disbelief spread through your being, so irritated at her for just assuming you’d forget everything that had happened. Both of which were perceivable in your tone. 

“Please, if you would just let me explain-” Desperation was evident in her voice, her entire face softening, her eyes imploring for you to please listen, to please forgive her. But you didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to hear her excuses; not before you had said your piece. 

“Explain what, huh? Explain how you couldn’t let go of your pride to send me something back? A simple ‘hello, it is I, Brienne of Tarth,’” you tried your best to copy her speaking voice, it falling short, “once a month would have sufficed because then I would have known that you were alive!”  

You took a breath before continuing, keeping your voice steady, tears threatening to well up. 

“Instead, I had to get that sign of life from Sansa! Do you understand how much that pained me? That you could not let go of your stubbornness for two seconds to let me know of your damn relocation to Kings Landing by yourself! Why?” Glaring up at her, you panted, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. 

“I couldn’t bring myself to read about your life without me…” Her voice was quiet, almost like she was ashamed to admit her reasons for not responding. At her admission, your wrath eased up. You weren’t furious at her anymore, but there was still the agonizing pain of being ignored by someone who you love so much, and whom you care for so. “I know, it was unreasonable, irrational, intolerant of me. I am aware.” 

She continued her explanation, “I really wanted to, read your messages, that is. Because I missed you terribly, and love you so, but it would have hurt too much. Then after I was appointed my new position and title I had so much to do, and I was so stressed, and I didn’t have the time to reply.” She was trying her best to stay strong, or at least for it to look like she was but she was moments away from a breakdown. 

You kept eye contact the entire time, seeing when tears were starting to form in her eyes, and you were suddenly extremely aware of how exposed you two were. “I’m sorry.” Her last words were a whisper, barely audible, voice breaking. 

She then broke eye contact, tilting her head down, fixing her gaze on the sandy ground. You glanced around you, seeing that your carriage was only a couple of feet away. It gave you the perfect escape plan. 

You took her by the hand, dragging her towards your carriage with a quick ‘come with me.’ The sudden, unexpected contact made Brienne’s head snap up, meeting the back of your head with her blurry vision. She needed privacy, you couldn’t let everyone see the Lord Commander break down in public, so you had to shelter her. It also provided you with a quieter place to speak. 

You asked the coachman to go make himself busy before ushering Brienne into the wheelhouse, you following suit, closing and locking the door behind you. Quickly covering all the springs in your immediate vision with its individual curtain. 

The second you sat down across from her, the dam broke. She buried her face in her hands as loud sobs wrecked through her, much like the ones you had heard by the stables as you rode away. 

Your anger and pain had quickly subsided when you had heard her entire reasoning, and when you saw how guilty she felt. There was no need to be mad at her, you didn’t think you could be anymore. 

Relieving yourself from your sword sheathe, you pondered, unsure if you should remain seated across from her, or if you should move to sit by her side. You couldn’t comfort her all those months ago, but you’d be damned if you didn’t do it now. 

Quickly maneuvering across the carriage, you took a seat next to Brienne, taking off her scabbard before throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close to you, her becoming flush against your side. She hadn’t expected the abrupt intimacy, it was a welcome one, especially after feeling nothing for so many days. 

Her arms flew around your waist, her face burying itself into your leather-covered chest. Your free hand came up to Brienne’s head, softly stroking her hair as the other gently caressed her upper arm. Her armor made it a little lumpy, but you did not care. Having her back in your arms after so long was an incredible feeling, and you couldn’t believe how you had made it this long without her warmth. 

Her sobbing was relentless, tears flowing down her face and dropping onto your legs. Your leather tasset had gradually shifted down the side of your upper thighs in your seated position, revealing your tunic trousers underneath. 

Brienne repeated the same phrase, over and over again through wails. Saying how sorry she was, how she hoped you could forgive her. You in turn answered with reassurance. Telling her that you accepted her apology, that she was forgiven. 

You didn’t know how much time had passed when Brienne’s cries eventually died down, rendering the small space silent except for the occasional sniffles coming from the blonde beside you. Her head had been removed from your chest and she now sat upright. You still had your arm around her, hand resting on her armored bicep. 

The hand that had been stroking her hair was now holding hers, entwined hands resting in between yours and Brienne’s thighs. Your thumb lazily drawing lines on the scarred skin. 

“Are you alright?” The softness had returned to your voice, the love and tenderness had as well, and the Commander noticed. She was soothed by your question because it meant you still cared enough to check in on her. That lit a light in Brienne’s tunnel of misery; there was still something left to save, to rebuild. 

“Yes. Especially now that I’m back in your arms.” She turned her head to look at you, you doing the same and offering her a soft smile which she returned. As you took in her tear-stained face and red puffy eyes, you were smacked with the remembrance of your earlier words, words that shouldn’t have been uttered. 

  “I’m really sorry for what I said back there. I was filled with fury, and I didn’t mean it. I always want to refer to you, dear Brienne.” Voice low to avoid disrupting the peace, your voice was gentler. A strong contrast to the cutting tone you had used outside. You brought her held hand up to your face to place a peck on the back of it, relishing in the feeling of her skin against your lips once again. 

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it. I forgive you either way.” You dropped yours and Brienne’s hands into your lap and released a sigh of relief hearing her words. Silence settled in again as you gazed into each other's eyes. The blonde's sapphire blues darted down to your lips and back up to your eyes, just like they had that night in the courtyard almost one year ago. She wanted to kiss you, and you needed her to. “You know, I really did miss you. A lot.” It was nothing more than a whisper, a breath of desire. 

“Yeah, yeah. I missed you, too. Now shut up and kiss me, please.” Brienne giggled at your eagerness and avidity and was quick to oblige to your wish. She turned her body towards you, legs shifting to be able to face you as comfortably as possible, hand coming up to cup your cheek, head diving in fast to capture your lips, eyes falling shut before colliding. 

The second her lips connected with yours, a contented and allayed moan escaped Brienne’s throat. She had longed for, craved, and missed you for so many months, all the tension and sorrow built up inside of her melting away the moment your lips touched. It was even more heavenly than she had recalled. One of your hands flew up to the side of her neck, your body shifting to copy the way she sat. 

It was like you never left, lips moving together in familiarity. Brienne’s tongue swiped over your bottom lip, begging for entrance, and you granted it. Her wet, strong muscle started exploring your mouth the second you parted your lips. The feeling of her tongue wrestling with yours along with the familiar taste of her, made you release a low moan; she tasted even better than you had remembered. 

The taste of you, the feeling of your tongue sliding against hers, your soft whimpers as she expertly moved her lips with yours like a dance, elegant and controlled like a waltz, but passionate and heated like a tango. A dance of the love and yearning you contained for the other. All of it took over her senses, her brain going into overdrive, her mewling against your lips. 

The hand that was holding on to Brienne’s broke away from the grasp, moving to find purchase in the blonde's hair. It was already disheveled from the salty ocean wind, hair slightly curled from the humidity in the air; your hand running through it wouldn’t make it worse. It wouldn’t be odd for her hair to be out of place considering the strong coast gust. 

Your fingers started at the nape of her neck, slowly moving upwards until they stopped at the back, curling them in her tresses, gathering a fistful of her hair in your hand. Brienne hummed against your mouth at the feeling of your digits in her hair once again, and the hand that had been abandoned by yours grabbed onto your waist, palm gently resting on your side. 

Your lips pulled apart, but you still kept the contact, foreheads leaning against the others, eyes shut as you regained your breath. “I really did miss you. I was hoping to show you just how much...” Brienne spoke between heavy breaths. 

You did not miss the glint of seduction in her voice or the innuendo. During the make-out session the all too familiar heat grew between your legs and your body craved her touch, as it had for months. But right here, in a carriage in a port town when you both had responsibilities? 

“Brienne...” Breathing out her name and meaning to remind her of your current area; you weren’t able to complete the rest of your sentence before she interrupted you. 

“Look at me,” you removed your head from hers and opened your eyes, meeting Brienne’s that were already staring back at you, her blue irises as deep and breathtaking as the galaxy, filled with stars and planets of her own. They were truly remarkable and gorgeous; fitting for someone like her. “I have craved you for so long. I don’t know how long it will be until we meet again. Let me make it up to you. Let me erase the past five months of misery. Let me do this so we can have something to last us until we can guarantee proximity to each other. Please.” 

The hand in her blonde curls transferred to her cheek, gently holding and stroking her flushed skin with your thumb. Her eyes were pleading as was her voice, wanting to remove the memories of pain and replace them with ones of pleasure; and you wanted that too. 

You placed a soft kiss on her lips before nodding, “that sounds perfect. I’d love nothing more.” At your confirmation, Brienne’s lips turned up into the biggest grin much like the one she wore after your first kiss, and she was on her knees on the wooden floor shortly after; her hands resting on your legs. 

“I’ve never done this before. All I know is that I want to make you feel good.” She gazed up at you as she spoke. She was insecure, as was obvious in her voice and her eyes, but also determined, not letting uncertainty scare her away. “Tell me if it feels good and what I can do to bring you maximum pleasure.” 

“I will.” 

The woman on her knees before you started undressing you. Starting with your boots, before wedging her hands under your leather chest cover to unstrap your tasset that was hindering access to the buckle of your trousers. 

Throwing a look at the door to the carriage to make sure it was locked, you noticed that one of the springs hadn’t been covered by the sheer curtain. As you stood up to close it, Brienne’s fingers undid the metal of your pants, pulling them down at the same time as you pulled the curtain down. 

You were now completely out of sight; the problem was, so was the outside world, and if your mother decided to forego your escort to make the trek back herself; she’d find you in one hell of a position. 

You prayed to the old Gods and the new that your mother would stay put, or that inventory would take longer than usual so that she didn’t hear you reconnecting with your love. Sure, she knew about Brienne and the relationship you had, it was one of the first things you had talked about when you got home, but you didn’t want your mothers' first impression of the much taller knight to be her in between your legs. 

Brienne’s hands grabbed onto your hips and pulled down, causing you to meet the seat with an unexpected speed, she was impatient, and you understood why. She had already spent too much time away from her mission and Podrick, and sooner or later, he would come looking for her, and would no doubt find her considering her last known position and your family’s carriage being mere feet away. Time was of the essence, and you couldn’t afford to waste any of it. 

Heavy breathing came from the woman in front of you as she placed her hands back onto your knees and gently spread them, being faced with your soaked underwear. She had never seen your sex before, felt it, sure, but never seen. She hadn’t tasted you either and she was practically drooling at the thought of finally doing so. 

Tentative and curious hands slowly traveled up your legs, stopping at the hem of your undergarments. Hooking her fingers inside and motions for you to elevate your hips slightly. Lifting your hips for easy discarding, she pulled them down in one motion, revealing your needy cunt to her hungry, dilated eyes. 

She was if in a trance, watching with such intensity you feared her eyes would pop out of her skull. You nudged her shoulder with your knee, causing her to snap her gaze to yours. Her pupils were blown-out, darkened from lust and desire. The air was thick inside of the small space and you could practically sense her ferocity as it emanated from her person.  

She looked so pretty like this on her knees for you, looking up at you with virtuous eyes. So ready and willing to serve; to satisfy your needs. Reaching out a hand, you took hold of her chin, guiding her face closer to your core, she needed a little helping hand. “You look so good right now, pretty girl. On your knees for me. So ready to do whatever I wish, hmm.” 

Brienne could only offer a nod in response, your words and low, vibrating voice combined with your dominating tone. If she were standing, she was sure her knees would give out and she’d fall to the floor. But since she already was kneeling on the wooden boards, she gave out a tiny whine instead, forgetting just how much power your words had over her. 

The scent of your arousal was overwhelming, your pussy radiating such heat, Brienne being able to sense it all when you had brought her face close enough to the apex of your inner thighs, and she wanted nothing more than to taste you, something she had wanted for such a long time; completely missing out on her chance before you left. She thought she had all the time in the world with you, how was she supposed to know you were leaving the same night she had intended to feast on you. 

So, the fact remained: you had tasted her; she hadn’t tasted you and she was so desperate to finally know how your wet flesh would feel against her tongue. Desperate to gain familiarity with the sensation she thought she would have experienced months ago when she had planned it. 

After you had eaten her out and gotten into bed together, her mind had started wondering what you’d taste like and that she’d propose to perform oral on you the next day during your midnight meeting, but then you left, and she never did find out what you tasted like. 

Finally, five months later. She would finally know just how wonderful you’d taste. 

“Use your tongue, my sweet girl. Don’t be afraid to use your instincts.” You stroked Brienne’s skin softly before sliding your hand to the back of her head, leg coming up to lay on her shoulder, foot resting on her back. Your other hand was placed beside you, using the seat as support. 

She licked her lips, mumbling ‘what a pretty little pussy’ before finally diving in, shutting her eyes, and allowing her intuition to take over. She licked a careful stripe up from your entrance to your clit, circling it slowly before closing her mouth around it, lightly sucking. Her tongue was a godsend, so strong and oh was she good at using it. 

You released a soft whimper, mindful to keep quiet considering your whereabouts but still wanting to let her know just how good she was making you feel. Your head leaned against the wall behind you, but your eyes were locked on Brienne’s between your legs, moving slightly as she used her skillful mouth on you. 

Your fingers grabbed at her hair, wanting to hold her in place as her tongue flicked over your clit and you refrained from pushing her closer; wanting her to do it on her own terms. You were sure that if she made you come with minimal help from you, her confidence would boost and that would exponentially heighten the chances of her giving head more often in the future, maybe even initiate it. 

Even though you wanted her to learn by doing, she had requested you to tell her how to make you feel good, and that was what you intended to do. 

Her arms were snaked around your thighs, hands resting where hip and leg met. She switched between sucking and licking, sometimes doing both, drawing out all kinds of noises from you. “Yeah. Just like that, baby. Just like that. You’re doing so good.” Even when she was pleasuring you, she was still submissive and in need of praise and assurance, and you were more than happy to provide all of those things for her. “Try- Try adding more pressure with your tongue.” 

A vibrating sensation exited Brienne’s mouth as she moaned against your clit at hearing your praise, causing your body to jerk and you to hold back a loud groan. She wanted to be validated, to be told she was doing a good job. This only applied to the sex part of her life, however, as she couldn’t care less about what other people thought of her, well, not anymore at least; her childhood self would disagree. 

The only person’s opinion she cared about besides maybe the professional opinions of her King, were yours. She wanted you to think highly and goodly of her, in all aspects of her life, be it professional, personal, or intimate, and you did. This she knew, it still felt good to hear you say it though. 

Brienne’s eyes which had been screwed shut the entire time suddenly opened, looking up at you with curious eyes. She wanted to see how you’d react to all of her following ministrations, fascination, and wonder glinting in her beautiful eyes. 

She took your advice and adjusted accordingly, placing her tongue flat on your clit with the pressure to go with and dragged her tongue up, making you drawl out a throaty moan. “Oh, Gods! Feels so fucking good, so fucking good.” Your words were slurred, your voice low to avoid it being heard by anyone else than Brienne, your heavy breaths and hums only growing more and more ragged as the woman betwixt your legs worked her wet muscle against you. 

You’d had your share of love affairs before but that was nothing compared to this. The feeling of getting eaten out by the love of your life was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. Not even the meetings you used to have as a young adult in the local bathhouses felt as good as this did. 

Brienne was a beginner but a very quick learner, and she knew exactly how to pleasure you because she knew you and your body, playing it masterfully, playing it like an instrument; like she hadn’t done anything else. 

She was devoted to your pleasure, devoted to worshipping you and your pussy with her tongue. Nothing else mattered in this specific moment, only the feeling of your legs shuttering, your moany whimpers, and your fingers twisting in her hair did. 

The sounds inside the wheelhouse were right out of a brothel, moans mixed with the wet noises coming from Brienne as she used her mouth on you. She murmured against your clit, a whisper mostly to herself, but you had heard it too, “You taste so fucking good...” Her words combined with the intense eye contact made your head spin, your insides turning in the most pleasant way. 

Every stroke, lick, kiss, and suck from the blonde brought you closer to the edge of climax, the familiar warmth pooling in your stomach, legs twitching and hips bucking with every ripple of pure bliss that went through your body. The release was barreling towards you like a wild buck and you were so ready for the collision, ready to get sent into an endless vortex of pleasure. 

During the five months that you and Brienne had been apart, more and more tension began to build up inside of you, a knot forming in your stomach. You often found yourself thinking of that morning in the baths or the night before, and it never failed to make you a throbbing mess. You never found the time to rid yourself of it, so it just continued to grow, the knot only getting tighter. 

Months' worth of pent-up tension releasing would equal in an orgasm the size of a tsunami washing over you and you were made aware of this fact as the band inside of you tightened, and tightened, until it eventually snapped, untying the knot at the same time. 

Waves upon waves of ecstasy poured over you as your body convulsed with pleasure. Your back was arching, hips thrashing as you rode Brienne’s face to drag out your orgasm. Her hands that had been resting in the space between thigh and hip pushed down to keep you steadier, but still allowing you to grind against her mouth. 

The hand in the blonde hair loosened as you came down from your peak, stroking her messy curls instead, hoping to smooth down the mess you had surely made of her locks. Brienne had removed her head from your sex, drawing languid circles with her fingers on your skin. Gorgeous blue eyes gazing up at you with awe as they watched your breathing grow steady. 

The Lord Commander leaned back on her heels, your hand sliding off her head as she moved out of your reach, removing herself from your legs, sloping to grab your clothes. Her chin was covered in your juices, and you made a mental note to get that cleaned up before you left the carriage. 

She grabbed your ruined undergarments and reached out a hand to give them to you where you sat, the hand that had been placed flat on the wood beside you the entire session was brought up to push her hand away, “they’re already soaked, you might as well use them to wipe your chin.” A breathless chuckle passed your lips as you spoke, Brienne looking at you comically. 

She muttered a quick ‘sorry’ before using a dry part of the cloth to dry her chin, removing any trace of your activities. She reached out a hand with them again and this time you accepted them, putting them on and wincing at the uncomfortable feeling of your wet and cold underwear, luckily you were heading home as soon as your mother was finished, and you could change. 

Your trousers were handed to you shortly after to be put on and buckled, as well as your tasset, and finally your boots. 

“Come here.” Brienne did as she was told and shuffled close to you, kneeling down at your side so you were at eye level. “My beautiful girl,” bringing a hand up to her cheek, you traced her skin with your fingers, inching closer to her face to give her a kiss. 

It was a gentle one, soft and tender, and you could sense the taste of you on her lips. “I love you.” It was a whisper against her lips, a promise for now and the future until you could tell her every day. 

“I love you, too. I do not like the idea that we must leave each other once again,” Brienne let out a sad sigh and turned her head away from you to stare at the carriage door. You were not entirely happy with the situation either but there was nothing to be done until you were no longer needed. “Come with me.” 

Your eyes widened at her words. Had you heard her correctly? “W- What?” Shock was painted across your features, your voice trying to remain steady, but you were too taken aback to bother with that, slightly shaking with perplexity seeping through. 

She turned her head to look at you once again, her expression deadly serious. She wasn’t jesting or posing any what-ifs. “Come with me to Kings Landing. I will ask for King Bran’s attention and request for him to recruit you into the King's Guard. We need more knights, and I know you would be the perfect fit.” This was wishful thinking. The Kings Guard?  

Quickly exhaling and inhaling, your face furrowed together in empathy, you too shared her want to travel to Kings Landing and spend all eternity by her side until death released you from your vows, but your mother needed you. “Brienne, I-” 

“Yes. I know. Your mother. But, please, just. Just consider it.” Her eyes and words were begging, her eyebrows raised in hope, wishing that you’d say yes; that you’d consider it. 

“I will consider it.” The smile that spread on your Commander's lips was infectious, causing you to do the same. Her eyes lit up like stars in the night sky, twinkling just the same. They really were as deep and vast as the galaxy, holding just as many uncharted and unexplored areas. 

A knocking on the door caused you and Brienne to snap out of your staring competition, instinctively putting distance between each other, you shooting over to the other side and retrieving your scabbard, the woman across from you doing the same with hers. 

The muffled voice of the coachman came from the outside, signaling that you had been in there for far too long, “Ser! I think your mother is all finished and ready to leave. Is everything alright in there?” You took a quick look at Brienne, her curls strewn across her forehead, and you motioned for her to comb her fingers through her locks to tidy it up a little. 

“Yes, everything is quite alright. We are finished and are coming out. Thank you!” You and Brienne snorted at you using ‘finished’ considering you did just that, you were acting a little immature, laughing at such a thing; but you felt like young adults sneaking around and that earned a tiny bit of immaturity. 

The woman sharing your space looked at you questionably, a silent query asking ‘does my hair look okay?’ you nodding as an answer. 

Quickly pulling aside all the curtains inside the wheelhouse to let the light in, you gave Brienne one last long kiss before opening the door and stepping out into the hot Dorne sun. Your coachman stood outside, eyeing you both, obviously wondering what had taken so long but decided not to ask. 

“Walk with me?” Turning your head to look up at her, Brienne only nodded, letting you take the first step and her following you with steps to match your stride. She often did this when you walked together, coordinating her pace with yours so she wouldn’t race ahead and you not being able to keep up. It was a slight adjustment, but a very thoughtful one. 

When you approached the water-bound vessel your mother was on, she wore the biggest grin as she looked from you to Brienne, her expression a drastic change from the melancholic mood she had adopted as her default since your father passed. 

It was unnerving seeing such a display of teeth after only seeing a frown for so long, but you assumed she recognized the taller woman beside you based on your very detailed explanations of her appearance.  

Your mother stepped off the ship, the captain she had spoken to earlier barking orders to his men to ready the ship so they could transport the rest of the wares as she reached land. 

Brienne had stopped her walk, the same as you, still by your side a couple of feet away from your mother. Close enough that you could hear each other over the cacophony of people, but far enough that your mother wouldn’t be able to tell what you had been doing. 

“Brienne, this is my mother. Mother, this is Lord Commander Brienne.” Your mother had her head slightly cocked to the side, a caring and loving look on her face as you introduced them to each other.  

The situation in which you had told your parents about Brienne had been completely unplanned. It had been on a hot night shortly after your arrival by your father's bedside as he asked you about Winterfell. 

It had only really been a simple question of what your obligations had been, however, the second you had mentioned Brienne’s name, your mother grew intrigued, wanting to probe and prod after hearing the tone and manner of words you used when speaking about the then Ser. 

Her clever questions and your oblivious answers caused you to reveal more than you had intended to, and suddenly your parents knew all about the nature of your relationship.  

“M’Lady.” Your knightly blonde stayed as formal as always to leave a good first impression. Giving your mother a more drawn-out nod, she left her head tilted down longer than she usually did, deciding to be more casual in her greeting considering the fact that it was your parent. 

“So, you’re Lord Commander Brienne of Tarth. I’ve heard so much about you.” Brienne took a panicked glance at you, hoping you hadn’t spoken about the five months of errors on her end that would surely not be appreciated by your mother. You only gave her a reassuring smile back. 

“Just Brienne is fine, and only good things, I hope.” The worry in her voice was obvious to you, it goes unnoticed by your mother. Brienne was good at hiding her true reactions to things when the situation called for it, and this was definitively one of those situations. 

“Brienne it is. Positive things only, my dear. The joy you have brought my child is unmeasurable, and I am so grateful.” A goofy smile spread on the blonde woman's lips, a combination of relief and glee at learning that you had abstained from telling your mother about her shortcomings, if she did know; Brienne was sure your mother wouldn’t be as friendly as she currently was towards her. 

“They have brought me the same amount, M’Lady. Your child is truly exceptional, never met anyone quite like them.” Brienne’s smile changed into a sincere one as she spoke, her voice filled with warmth. Seeing them interact so effortlessly made you all giddy, staring at the tall Commander beside you with a lovestruck expression. 

“Why don’t you come back to Lemonwood with us, Brienne. Have supper with us, maybe spend a few nights at our residence, we’d love to host you.” This was really an excuse for your mother to spend time with your knight, to get to know the person her child had fallen madly in love with. 

If your father were still alive, you were sure he would sit right beside your mother as they asked Brienne question after question. The image in your mind made you smile fondly. Your father really would have loved to meet her, they would find that their opinions matched on many different matters. 

“That sounds very pleasant, and I would love to accept but I am afraid I am unable to. I need to get back to Kings Landing.” The twinge of sadness in her words did not stay hidden from either you or your mother. The reminder that time was not on your side bared itself once again, and no number of prayers could change the fact that you and Brienne had to part. 

“Yes, of course. How unfortunate. Perhaps another time?” Your mother did not back down, she laid out a long-standing offer, meaning that sooner or later, Brienne would sit at her dinner table, and she’d be able to learn all about the mysterious woman before her. 

“I’d love to take you up on that offer. Perhaps if I am dispatched to Dorne for a longer period of time.” You could tell that Brienne was being polite, yet she seemed genuine in her words. The moment she’d set foot inside the walls of your home, you were sure she would come to regret taking your mother up on the offer. She liked her privacy, and your mother liked prodding. Them together was not a feasible pairing. 

“Of course, just send a raven ahead of time so we can prepare, other than that you are always welcome to our home. It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Brienne.” She liked the pretty knight, you could tell. You could also tell that she was itching to get on the road, ready to talk your ear off and tease you about your behavior around the blonde. 

It was all with good intentions, something she did when you were young and had an infatuation with someone. 

“You too, M’Lady.” 

“Safe travels.” She spoke her final words to Brienne before shifting her attention to you, “I will give you two a moment, come find me when you’re done.” With this, she walked back to the still-docked ship she had previously been on, spectating as the crewmen scattered around on deck to get everything ready for departure. 

You turned to look at Brienne, her doing the same, a crestfallen expression gracing her features. Your face matching hers, “I sent Bartholomew off with another message this morning. Reply this time, please.” 

“Bartholomew?” Even though she was incredibly disheartened, an amused and quizzical look took over her face. 

“Yes. One of our message ravens. His real name is Branoc, but I named him Bartholomew the Raven the First. It was whimsical to me.” You lovingly smiled at Brienne, and she reciprocated, smiling with just as much adoration back. 

She chuckled slightly, “I see. I will read yours and send one back with Bartholomew the Raven the First. I swear, no more miscommunication.” Her words were true, no more silence from her end, no more misery. 

“Good. Well, off you go.” Tears were starting to well up in your eyes, you didn’t want to let her go, did not want to watch her leave but you were afraid there was no other choice. You could see Podrick in the distance behind Brienne, waiting for her to board the ship so they could return back. 

“I will be looking forward to hearing your decision when you have given thought to my offer. I love you. Please come back to me soon.” She was dragging this out, wanting your goodbye to last as long as possible so your time wouldn’t be cut short so soon. 

“I will try. I love you.” Gazing up into her eyes, you took her hands in yours, an action overlooked by the mass amount of people around you. “Now go. Ser Podrick is waiting for you.” 

“Farewell, for now, Ser.” Squeezing your hands, Brienne let go of them and straightened her back, hand resting on its usual place on the hilt of her sword; looking down at you with an over-enthusiastically assertive face, making you giggle a tiny bit. 

“Farewell for now, Lord Commander.” One long glance was exchanged before Brienne turned on her heels and started marching over to where Podrick was standing. The last you saw of her tall figure was her boarding the ship and her disappearing below deck. 

Walking up to your mother, you grabbed her attention by tapping her gently on the shoulder, her turning around to face you. “I will allow two questions on the ride back, and that is it.” Setting these boundaries with your mother rarely worked, but this time you were serious, dead set on maintaining some seclusion. 

“Two questions are all I’ll need.” 

——— 

Two weeks had passed since the events in Planky Town, and you had let it slip to your mother that Brienne had proposed to speak to the King on your behalf. A couple days after she had learned this, she miraculously didn’t need your services anymore, leaving you free to do whatever you wished. 

The first thing you did was send a raven to Brienne, telling her that you reflected on her proposal, that you accept, and to expect you the following week. 

Directly after this, you had traveled to Sunspear. Letting Prince Martell know that you would no longer be able to assist in whatever he needed. Considering you never swore your services to him and that it was purely a means to keep the ‘protect the innocents’ part of your knightly oath going; the only thing he could do was to thank you for your help and to let you leave. 

Packing whatever you needed for your trip, you said your goodbyes to your mother and later that day, you were on a ship heading for Kings Landing. It was another one of your family’s ones, and considering they were already heading up north, they allowed you to ride along in exchange for your assistance in carrying the goods, which you gladly assisted with. 

That all led to you standing at the dock of Kings Landing where the tall woman stood and awaited you. Walking up to her, you took a glance around before looking up at her with feigned confusion. “Excuse me, I’m supposed to meet Lord Commander Brienne of Tarth. Do you know where I could find her?” 

Brienne smiled playfully, lightly shoving your shoulder, causing you to grin up at her. “You’re not funny, you know?” 

“That smile on your face would suggest otherwise.” You were teasing her; she knew you were. You wanted to engage in small banter before diving right into serious King’s Guard business, but Brienne was eager for you to get integrated and fitted so she could take you to her private quarters and cuddle you. 

“We can continue this later. Let’s go see the King. He’s looking forward to meeting you.” Brienne began leisurely trekking, you following after her. The sun reflected so perfectly in her gold plates as she journeyed towards the large gate, eventually traveling under it.

You found yourself in shadows for a brief period of time before the light hit your face as you emerged from the dark, stepping out into Fishmonger’s Square. 

From there you walked straight until you took a right, walking down The Hook and you couldn’t do much but gape at the Red Keep where it stood, large and marvelous, fit for a King of the Six Kingdoms. As you passed through the curved street, you and Brienne kept up a mindless conversation, not talking about anything important, really, just chatting, enjoying each other’s company. 

After finally, reaching the end of The Hook, you were greeted with a set of stairs, going up Aegon’s High Hill. You looked to Brienne with annoyed exhaustion, and she laughed, stating that ‘the leg muscles you get from this makes it worth it, I promise.’ She was being goofy, trying to change your expression into one less irritated, and it worked; she always knew how to make you smile like a fool. 

She motioned for you to go first, and you did, knowing that if you lost balance or fell, Brienne would be there to catch you. She, on the other hand, wanted you to go first so she could be bestowed the privilege of having your ass as her view; she would never admit that though. 

About halfway up, the knight behind you asked if you wanted to take a break, but you declined, knowing that you were almost there. Give or take a few dozen steps. Brienne shrugged, staying close to your back in case your legs gave out. Even her thighs were burning. 

Even though you walked a few steps above her, you still only reached Brienne’s forehead and she found it amusing that someone so short could have so much love, well, you were short to her; everyone was short to her. 

You ascended the very last stairstep, the Red Keep towering and looming above you. It was even more intimidating and glorious up close, and you had to crane your neck to even get remotely close to the peak of it. You had to stop yourself from releasing a ‘whoa’ but settled with subtle gawking instead; subtle being eyes and mouth wide open. 

Brienne passed your still-standing person, giggling at your amazement, “come on, you silly girl. You can revel in the spectacularism later.” You shook yourself out of your current state when hearing her fond tone, coming to join your blonde Commander by the large doors. 

Brienne entered the large building, making sure you were behind her, allowing you to step up to her side. The insides of the building were equally as grand as the outside, a home fit for a King, you thought. You refrained from commenting on the vision that was the Red Keep, but you were fairly certain your knight already knew what you were thinking by the awestruck countenance you had. 

When you entered the Throne Room, your former face had been switched to a solemn one, showing that you were a very serious knight who hadn’t been staring at the building you were currently in open-mouthed. 

There were two other people in the large space besides you and Brienne. A much shorter man with curly hair, and the King, who sat on his throne which had been moved down from its previous placement so that Bran could lift himself into it. 

Brienne leaned down to your ear, talking to you in a hushed tone, “That’s King Brandon Stark, which I assume you know. And the bloke next to him is Lord Hand Tyrion Lannister.” You only hummed in response as she rose to her full height once again. 

Tyrion had noticed the blonde's change in mood the second she had returned from Dorne. No longer staring off into nothingness and getting lost in her thoughts. No longer hiding away and sharpening every sword known to man or obsessively counting in the armory. 

He had been wondering what the cause for this sudden change in her behavior was, but now that he saw the way she looked at you, the way her eyes lit up as she spoke, and how you acted the same towards her; he drew his own conclusions. He was sure to tease her about this at a later date. 

Brienne and you stopped before the King, kneeling in front of him. He called you both up to stand straight, the Lord Commander marching up to stand by her King's side, you standing firmly in place. 

“Your Grace.” You kept your eyes fixated on Bran, very aware of Brienne’s eyes on you. You could see her in the corner of your eye, she looked so exalted and heroic standing next to the King in her gold armor and white cloak. 

“Lord Brienne speaks very highly of you. She has stated very clearly that she would fight by your side and that she trusts you with her life.” You had to hold back a grin at his words, she spoke just as highly of you as you did of her, “I have heard of your accomplishments on the battlefield, and I must say that I am impressed.” 

“Thank you, Sire.”  

You had spent the journey here memorizing the oath you had to swear. It was a mighty long one, but it had eventually stuck, and you were sure it would never unstick. You didn’t quite know when you were supposed to swear it, hoping Brienne would give you some sort of signal for when it was time. 

Luckily, there was no need for that, King Bran gave you his own very clear instructions with his words, “I would be a fool to not have you in my Kings Guard, especially when my own Lord Commander was essentially bragging about your skills.” At this, Brienne’s head slumped down to hide a smile that crept up on her lush lips, she was a little bit embarrassed at him exposing her. Yet at the same time she was grateful for it because now you knew just how much she wanted you here with her unless any of her other words hadn’t been enough. “Kneel.” 

Brienne looked at you with enthusiasm, her pride for you shining brightly in the dimly lit room. She observed as you got down onto your knee once again, barely able to contain her large grin. The corners of her lips twitched, and she was sure that if either of the men beside her were to see it; they would question the reason why she actually wanted you here. She could want you here for two reasons, no? One selfish, one for the good of the kingdom. 

Your sword skills matched hers, and to have you next to her would put her so much more at ease. She was well aware that she was an exceptional sword fighter, but to have two with the same skill was calming, knowing that you would both go through hell and high water to get back to the other alive.  

Having such a drive force can be lifesaving in dire and lethal situations, especially when your job is to protect the King; riots hadn’t been uncommon in the past, but hopefully, there would be none now that there was new and better leadership. 

“I swear to ward the King with all my strength, and to give my blood for his. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, mother no children. I shall guard his secrets, obey his commands, ride at his side, and defend his name and honor.” 

What you didn’t seem to notice even though you kept your eyes fixed on Bran, was his slight eyebrow quirk at the fact that you chose to replace father with mother, but wife remained, just as it had with Brienne’s oath. 

“Arise.” 

Brienne practically beamed at you as you got up from your knee, almost overzealously volunteering to take you to your fitting when Bran and Tyrion started discussing it. The shorter one of the two stared at her with an astute look, mouthing ‘real smooth, Lord Brienne,’ a teasing smile on his face. 

The tall blonde shot him one of her signature glares in return, staring at him pointedly and he knew he was going to have fun messing with her about this. Maybe he’ll ask her if she’s still a virgin, maybe her answer had changed since the last time he asked. He was sure it had, but he wanted to hear her say it. 

“Your Grace. I will take our newest recruit for measurements, then show them their quarters. Leave it to me.” Bran didn’t think much of Brienne’s willingness, he thought her to be a strange character sometimes and this was one of those times. He just simply nodded to show that she was sanctioned to do just that. 

“Lord Commander. Ser. You are both dismissed.” Brienne trotted over to your side, ready to lead you away from the large room. 

“Yes. Your Grace.” Speaking unanimously, you and the tall blonde bowed before taking your exit. Side by side, you roamed the regal halls of the Red Keep, and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring in wonderment again, nearing the exit of said building. 

Brienne found your extreme fascination and wonder endearing, her heart fluttering at your childlike enthusiasm and admiration, her insides all warm, her stomach filling with butterflies as she watched your wonderstruck face. 

The descent of the stairs was much more forgiving than the ascent and you had found yourself walking down The Kings Road that winded through Kings Landing, and as you walked, Brienne explained to you that you had two stops to make, one at the armorer for measurements for your new plates and gambeson, and a second at the tailor, for new tunics and trousers, but also for your long white cloak. 

She spoke to you the entire time about what she had been up to the five months you were apart, stating that it was too much to be written on paper, as you navigated the streets of Kings Landing to make your errands. 

It all went smoothly and eventually, Brienne had taken you to the White Sword Tower, where your chambers were located. “I managed to get your room next to mine, so we can easily sneak in between if we wish.” Her voice was hushed and her tone mischievous as she showed you her quarters, and then yours. You smiled at her words; she hadn’t changed one bit. 

“Come into mine. I wish to show you something.” Suddenly her voice and face turned candid, opening the door to her room and allowing you to walk in before her, closing it after entering the quarters herself. 

She immediately walked up to her hearth, starting a warming and crackling fire, and then moved to the armor stand in her room, beginning the removal process of each piece of her golden plates. 

You couldn’t help but look at the back of her head with a puzzled expression. It was getting close to sunset, but not close enough to warrant Brienne unstrapping her armor. She usually kept it on until bedtime, and it was still light outside. 

Continuing her process, she spoke to you, voice soft and tender, “Go look in that book over there.” She twitched her head quickly, motioning you in the direction she wanted you to go. 

Walking over to her bed table, your eyes landed on a book. Brienne didn’t seem like the type of person who would be interested in dramatic literature. “The book isn’t of importance; I just picked a random one. Look inside.” 

You looked back at Brienne, only having her gambeson left to remove, but had stopped for a second to turn her head to look at you, offering an encouraging smile. Shifting your gaze back to the book, you picked it up and opened the worn-out leather cover. The paper inside seemed to stare back at you with accusing eyes. 

It was tear-stained, obvious marks on the spots the Lord Commander’s tears had landed. You were almost certain about what the parchment was, your speculations were only confirmed when you removed it from the pages and unfolded it; your handwriting from five months ago glaring at you. 

“You kept it?” This was surely a painful memory for Brienne, why she opted to keep it you did not know. The evidence of her evening cries was clear on the slightly ripped note; she must’ve read this every single day. 

“Yes.” She was finally finished with her armor and gambeson and moved to join you by her bed. “I needed to have something of yours, and this was all I had.” She stopped in front of you, gently taking the book and letter from your hands, placing them back on the bed table before grabbing hold of your hands. “I read it every single night, desperately trying to remember your voice. But I- I couldn’t.” 

Her gaze shifted from yours to the floor, and you were hit with a surge of woe seeing her evade your eyes. You did not know why she felt the need to do so. Was she ashamed that she had forgotten your voice? Or maybe embarrassed admitting that she read your letter every night even if it reminded her of the dark winter evening by the stables? You did not know, and you didn’t want to ask, not now at least. 

“Darling,” one of your hands tangled itself out of Brienne’s to softly lift her chin up, so you could look into her magnificent irises. “I forgot your voice too. No matter, though. We’ll be able to hear each other's voice every day from now on.” She smiled down at you with sad eyes, an unasked question in the air that you both wanted to ask, the taller woman being the actual one to ask it. 

“Will you let me hold you, please? I wish to hold you.” It was almost like she was shy, acting like it was the beginning stage of your relationship once again, and in a way it kind of was. You were in need of her warmth, her closeness, and the strong enveloping of her large and long arms. For her to hold you tight and never let go, desperate to be back in her embrace once again. 

You responded by kissing her tenderly on her lips, removing your hand from her chin, and using the one still in her hand to drag her down onto the bed with you. Both you and Brienne were still fully clothed, an error that needed to be resolved; you wanted to feel her hot skin against yours once again like you had done so many moons ago. “I want to feel your bare flesh against mine, please.” 

Brienne watched you lovingly and fondly, nodded, and started to remove her clothing, stripping down to her undergarments. It was nothing sexual, just the need to feel the entirety of her against you; an animalistic urge to feel a sense of security. You followed suit, undressing with haste, folding up your clothes, and placing them next to hers at the foot of the bed. 

Your blonde knight in shining armor crawled under the covers and laid down on her side, holding the fur up for you so you could do the same. Lifting up the same arm that had been holding the cover as you did. 

She wasted no time in slinging the same limb around you when you had laid down next to her, pulling you close to her, your back against her front. Her face nuzzling into your neck, breathing in your scent. 

Her strong musk and arms encompassed you, the faint and familiar smell of fresh grass and light sweat overwhelming your senses once again. You were completely intoxicated by her proximity, you couldn’t think, your mind was scrambled, heart racing. 

She started pressing soft kisses to your skin, supple lips ghosting over your neck and shoulder, making you release a sigh. Brienne whispered against your skin, her breath slightly tickling you. “Tell me what you did in Dorne during the five months we were apart. Catch me up, please.” You were more than happy to. 

As you started to recount the events that had occurred over the past five months, Brienne’s hold around you tightened, attempting to have you even closer to her which at this point was impossible. There was barely any space left between you, not even a small air pocket. 

Your legs were tangled with her incredibly long ones, fingers drawing mindless circles on her arm as you told her about your journey to Dorne, your father’s passing, and your family’s trader business. 

Brienne hummed every once in a while, to let you know that she was listening, her arm around you strong like cement. As she pressed a barely felt but burning kiss to the skin behind your ear, you realized that you were finally back where you were always meant to be. 

In Brienne’s arms.

–––

taglist: (give me a shout if you wish to be removed)

@na-shoba

@pastanest

@the-fuck-do-i-know

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[captainremmington-13]

A Lady Made of Snow

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova.

SUMMARY: An unexpected rebel attack leaves both Coriolanus and Bellova in the hospital. But it seems that nothing, not even a close encounter with death, can keep them from butting heads.

Warnings: spoilers for TBOSAS, mentions of death, mentions of explosions, injury, cursing, overall just some dark stuff (it’s the Hunger Games franchise so that’s sorta a given)

A/n: I am using a combination of the movie and book version of the events that occur in this chapter.

Adorning a brand-new black suit and sleek black heels, Bellova stood at the front of homeroom. As they had been ordered to stand in alphabetical order, she and Coriolanus ended up side-by-side. 

He looked nervous. She figured it was because he had to open the ceremony by singing the national anthem. She hadn’t heard him sing in years, not since they were young children. Back then, he sounded truly awful. She hoped for his sake he’d improved since then.

After a quick briefing of the ceremony’s schedule by Professor Satryia Click, Bellova took her place in the stands with the other attendees. She quickly wished Coriolanus good luck as he made his way towards the stage, and sat down with the other Academy students. 

Coriolanus’s performance of the national anthem went smoothly. President Ravinstill gave a brief speech commemorating Arachne, and signaled for the funeral procession to begin.

First came the honor guard of Peacekeepers, marching in perfect harmony with the drums. Then, Bellova heard the crowd around her gasp in disgust as a truck pulled a flat bed along behind it, where the remaining tributes were shackled to the floor. The body of Arachne’s killer hung from a hook above them, like a person executed by hanging. 

Bellova felt her stomach twist unpleasantly at the sight of the corpse, but didn’t look away. She’d seen plenty of dead people in her lifetime, it wasn’t anything new.  

After the tributes came Arachne’s coffin, which was elaborately decorated with flowers. Then came a chariot pulling Arachne’s parents, who looked uneasy about this whole affair. The chariot stopped in front of the podium, where Dr. Gaul was waiting to speak.

"Arachne Crane, we, your fellow citizens of Panem, vow that your death will not be in vain. When one of ours is hit, we hit back twice as hard. The Hunger Games will go forward, with more energy and commitment than ever before, as we add your name to the long list of the innocent who died defending a righteous and just land. Your friends, family, and fellow citizens salute you and dedicate the Tenth Hunger Games to your memory.”

Bellova thought it was a dramatic statement to make, but agreed that Arachne was innocent. Bratty and arrogant, sure, but not deserving of her violent end. 

The funeral procession passed a few moments later, and the crowd began to disperse. Bellova followed the other Academy students to the cafeteria, hoping that a nice meal would dull some of the grief lingering on her conscience.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Can you climb?”

Velvereen shook her head. “Not very well. But I can try.”

Bellova pursed her lips, trying not to seem too disappointed. The arena’s best hiding spots seemed to be above ground, and it would be impossible to reach them without climbing.

As she and her tribute walked around the arena, she kept subconsciously glancing over at a certain blonde boy. He was far too close to the little songbird girl. They seemed to be bantering cheerfully, which was insane given where they were standing. 

‘She’ll be gone soon,’ Bellova reminded herself. ‘She’ll die in the arena, and you’ll never have to see her and Coryo together again.’

“Bellova?” Velvereen asked, trying to get her mentor’s attention.

“Huh?” Bellova said, confused. Then, she remembered what she was there to do. She had to stop worrying about the little songbird, and focus on helping her own tribute. “Oh yes, I’m sorry.” Bellova looked over at Coriolanus again, and noticed that there were some piles of rubble near where he stood “Let’s go over there and check for other good hiding places, okay?” 

Velvereen nodded. They took a couple steps towards Coriolanus and Lucy Gray. 

Then, the world erupted into flame.

Bellova yelled in terror as the bombs exploded around her, knocking down tributes, peacekeepers, and mentors alike. She scrambled to her feet, running away from the sound of the blasts. 

A Peacekeeper knocked into her hard while running for his life, sending her flying to the ground. She felt her ribs slam the pavement, eliciting an agonized scream from her lips. Somehow, she got to her feet again, racing towards a section of the arena where the bars had been blown away. 

Bellova was just a few feet from safety when she lost consciousness, crumpling to the ground as Velvereen stood triumphantly over her body.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hushed voices and the sound of beeping pulled Bellova from her unconscious state slowly. 

Her eyes fluttered open, squinting shut as the harsh hospital light attacked her pupils. She could tell she’d been hooked up to morphling by the dull throb in her left arm. 

“She’s awake,” someone said.

“Oh thank god,” another voice said quietly. 

There was some more mundane chatter, and then she felt someone grasp her hand gently. 

When she opened her eyes fully, she saw Sejanus standing next to her bed, his hand on top of hers. 

“Sejanus?” she murmured, her head swimming from her injury and the drugs.

“Hey, Bellova,” the boy said, smiling weakly. “Glad to see that you made it.  A couple nights ago, we weren’t too sure you would.”

Bellova’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell have I missed?”

Sejanus, who was soon joined by Lysistrata Vickers, filled Bellova in on what had happened. Coriolanus and a few other mentors besides herself were in the hospital. Six tributes were confirmed dead, including Velvereen.

Bellova’s brow furrowed. “What happened to her?”

Sejanus sighed. “She hit you upside the head with a rock before trying to make a run for it. She was shot before she could escape.”

Bellova’s fists clenched. “That bitch. After all I did to try to help her, she tried to murder me? Barbaric.”

Sejanus winced. Clearly, the morphling was wearing off. “Yeah, well…there were other casualties. The Ring twins.”

Bellova sat up, trying to ignore the nausea that followed instantly. “That’s not true. It couldn’t be.” 

“Lay back down, miss,” a nurse said, stepping into the room and past Sejanus. “You need to rest your head.”

Bellova scowled at her. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“She’s a nurse, Bellova,” Lysistrata said. “Please listen, it’s for your own good.”

Bellova reluctantly laid back down, allowing the nurse to refill her supply of morphling and inject more sleeping serum into her arm. “So…Didi and Pollo are dead?”

Sejanus nodded. Bellova’s eyes immediately filled with tears, and she grasped Sejanus’s hand tighter. “Oh god,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. “That’s…I-I can’t believe it.” 

“I know,” Sejanus murmured. “I can’t either.” 

Bellova sniffled. “H-How’s Coryo?”

“He’s alright,” Sejanus said. “He’s resting. He got a mild concussion, some burns, and some bruises, but otherwise he’s just fine.”

“Good,” Bellova whispered, the serum beginning to take effect. “That’s good.”

“You should go to sleep, Bellova,” Lysistrata insisted. “It’ll help you heal.”

Bellova hummed in agreement. “Will you visit me again? Let me know what I’ve missed?”

Sejanus nodded. “We will, I promise.”

With that, Bellova drifted off again, dreaming that Coriolanus had come to visit her, holding a pretty red rose and wearing an equally gorgeous smile. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On Monday evening, Bellova sat on her hospital bed, reading a book that Sejanus had dropped off. She was set to be released the following morning if her symptoms continues to subside. Her head injury had mostly healed, but it was still rather sore.

There was a sudden knocking at the door. 

“Come in,” Bellova said, closing her book.

Her primary nurse, Elsbeth, peeked her head through the doorway. “You have a visitor, Miss Bellova.”

“Send them in,” she said. Elsbeth nodded, and opened the door completely. She stepped aside to reveal Coriolanus, who was indeed holding a rose. But instead of a vibrant red blossom, it was the purest shade of black Bellova had ever seen.

Elsbeth shut the door behind him, leaving the two students alone. 

Coriolanus placed the rose on the table next to Bellova’s bed. “My Grandma’am only successfully grows a few black roses each year. I was able to convince her to prune this one for you.”

Bellova picked it up, examining the macabre plant. “It’s lovely. But it’s the kind of flower you’d see at a funeral.”

He shrugged. “It felt fitting, giving that you could’ve died.”

She winced. “Thanks for reminding me. Be honest, though: would you really care that much if I had?”

Coriolanus sighed. “Do you really think I despise you that much?”

“I don’t know, Coryo,” Bellova said, looking away from him. “We fight, we insult each other, we compete constantly. But when we aren’t, we get along quite well.”

“Most of the time, you’re the reason that we end up arguing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure, but only because you say something insufferable.” 

He huffed. “Please just answer my question.”

“No, I don’t think you hate me. But our personalities clash in some rather ugly ways. However, if we actually try to work around it, we could get along swimmingly.”

Coriolanus smiles slightly. “I agree.”

Bellova puts her book on her bedside table. “Now, what really brings you here?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I know that’s not all that’s on your mind, Coryo. You wouldn’t have come here bearing gifts otherwise.”

Coriolanus sighed and sat on a chair next to the bed. “I did want to discuss something with you. Your tribute, Velvereen, is dead, meaning you’re out of the running for the Plinth Prize and technically no longer a mentor.“

Bellova nodded. “True. I still plan to act similar to one while the Games are occurring, though. I want to observe how it works from the lenses of a mentor, even if I don’t have a tribute to represent.”

“Right,” Coriolanus said. “However, it means you’ll be significantly less busy than the rest. So, I was wondering if you’d be willing to aid me in helping Lucy Gray while she’s in the arena. She needs all the support she can get, especially after being hurt by the rebel bombing. I know Highbottom wouldn’t approve of it, but if we keep our collaboration secret, I think it could really help Lucy Gray’s chances in the arena.”

Bellova just stared at him blankly. 

He opened his mouth to continue, but was abruptly interrupted by a harsh laugh. 

“Are you being fucking serious?” Bellova asked, the angry glint in her eyes sending a cold shock down Coriolanus’s neck. “You think I have any interest in helping some little district rat? It’s bad enough that you care about her, why the fuck would any effort into aiding her survival?”

Coriolanus scowled. “Because it would increase my odds of winning. And I don’t care about her, I care about the Plinth Prize.”

“Sure,” Bellova sneered. “That’s why you held her hand at the Zoo, and why you visit her during any free time you have, and why you gave her a rose, and-“

“Oh, shut up!” Coriolanus snapped, standing up quickly. “I only did those things to earn her trust!”

“You’re such a bad liar, Snow,” Bellova said, smirking. “Look, you do whatever you want with her, it’s your reputation on the line. But I’m not tarnishing mine by associating so closely with district filth.”

Coriolanus loomed over her, his hands balled into fists. “You won’t even consider it?”

She shook her head, her smirk growing as she saw Coriolanus’s face flush with anger. “I won’t lift a damn finger to help your songbird.”

“Fine, I don’t need your help. You’d just slow me down anyways.”

Bellova laughed without humor. “What happened to trying to get along?”

Coriolanus gave her a cold stare, and swept out of the hospital room without saying another word. 

Bellova watched him go, anger forming a pit in her stomach. She was utterly furious that Coriolanus was doing so much for Lucy Gray. She’d be dead in five seconds once the Games began.

His only real hope at winning the Plinth Prize was to make her a sensation before her blood went cold. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bellova! What are you doing down here?” 

The girl in question smiled at Persephone Price, who greeted her with a warm hug. “I got approval to survey the Games with the others. Even though my bitch of a tribute is dead, I figured it would be fun to see what you all do to aid yours.”

Persephone smiled. “That makes sense. Gosh, I’m just glad to see you standing and well.” 

Bellova patted her shoulder. “Thank you.” 

She headed towards where the rest of the mentors were, and spotted Coriolanus sitting next to Sejanus, who looked anxious. Marcus, his tribute, hadn’t been found yet. For all they knew, he was still loose and roaming the Capitol streets.

Bellova walked over to Sejanus, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Oh, hey,” he said, smiling weakly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she replied. “The constant headache I’ve had since I regained consciousness is dimming slowly. The doctors said I’ll make a full recovery.”

Sejanus nodded. “I’m glad to hear it.” 

Bellova took a seat in a spare chair that was set in between Coriolanus and Sejanus. She glanced at the blonde boy out of the corner of her eye. He looked nervous. Not as nervous as Sejanus, but definitely still anxious. 

Bellova silently hoped his worry was about the Plinth Prize and not Lucy Gray. If he pulled any more strings for her, she would be forced to punch him until his pretty face was bruised and bleeding.

Within a few minutes, the broadcast of the Games had begun. Lucky Flickerman began his commentary, which quickly became annoying in Bellova’s opinion. He had always thought he was funnier than he actually was.

The cameras showed the tributes taking their places in the arena. Most of them looked downright terrified, while some looked eager to fight. 

Bellova found herself losing focus, and stared up at the ceiling aimlessly. She really should’ve brought a snack to the event. A bowl of assorted chocolates would be lovely right about now. 

Her focus was snapped back to the television screen when people around her start gasping in horror.

Her eyes widened as the cameras panned to Sejanus’s tribute, dangling from the ceiling of the arena, barely hanging on to his life.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊

TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! This chapter was super long and really fun to write. The story will only continue to be more exciting as it progresses! Let me know if you want to be tagged in the comments below!

[creationcitystreet-em]

And if I could turn back the clock

I'd make sure the light defeated the dark

I'd spend every hour, of every day

Keeping you safe

I'd climb every mountain

And swim every ocean

Just to be with you

And fix what I've broken

Oh, 'cause I need you to see

That you are the reason

- “You Are The Reason” by Calum Scott

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: February 23/24

Happy Friday everyone! It's time for another awesome selection of fics added to my MFL list this week!! AND be sure to give lots of extra love to the boosted fics this week!! Enjoy!

SIGNAL BOOSTING

Conversation Hearts by rsong912 (M, 1,382 w., 1 Ch. || POV Sherlock, Developing Relationship, Valentine's Day, One Shot, Bed Sharing, Fluff Without Plot, First Kiss) – This little one-shot is in honor of Valentine's Day and the boys. I got the idea by reading about the origin of those little conversation heart candies, once manufactured by Necco and now by Spangler Candy Co, which have apparently been in production with only a few years of a break since 1902. They usually have a theme every year, in addition to the classic hearts. I've used the prompt of the classic hearts to come up with the theme for this little fic: Will U B Mine?

Feels Like Falling by BRNZ (E, 15,028 w., 4 Ch. || S3 Divergence, Angst, Humlur, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Developing Relationship, Doctor John, Oral Sex, Slow Burn, UST, Idiots in Love, First Kiss/Time) – John harrumphed in the way he did when he wanted to get the conversation back on track. “So, sex?” Sherlock put his cup down with a clink, leaned forward, linking his fingers together and smirked the tiniest amount at John “Are you asking or offering?” For a microsecond they stared at each other, familiar banter underlaid by another….deeper tension…John grinned and looked away “Smart arse. Everyone knows your temple is undefiled, so to speak.” “Yes, I’ve carefully cultivated that impression. But we weren’t talking about me.”

Domestic Bliss by 221Beloved (M, 23,962 w., 11 Ch. || Fluff, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Family, Feelings, Love, Emotions, Flashbacks) – Sherlock and John visit the Holmes family to tell them first-hand about the shift in their relationship. As they spend a lovely Easter-weekend together, they reminisce about the early days of their relationship.

RECENT MFLs

Sometimes You Hear The Bullet by LipstickDaddy (G, 2,378 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF / No Mary, Injury / Blood, War, Flashbacks, Bed Sharing, Caring, Bathing / Washing, John's PTSD, Protective Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending) – John is no stranger to the sound of gunfire— but something about this case managed to pull at the sutures with which he’d sewn up all his old wounds, and he can’t close them up again. Not alone.

So Soon? by Gregorovitch (E, 3,336 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Divergence, Jealous John, Mutual Pining, Porn Without Plot, Hand Jobs, Conversations, Infidelity, Idiots in Love, Guilty John, Moral Dilemmas, Difficult Decisions, Heart-To-Heart, Arguing, Declarations of Love, Hopeful Ending) – Only John knows what Sherlock is really like. Or, that's what he likes to think, at least. (A proper exploration of that one specific scene from His Last Vow.)

[holysaintscathedral]

Books for the Hierophile

Similar to my fic recommendation list, the following is a list of books that might be of interest to any hierophile (Christian based hierophilia anyway). The majority of books here are erotica or romance (het, mlm, and wlw) and physical copies can be found at most major in-person and online book sellers, unless stated otherwise. The titles are listed in alphabetical order with a brief synopsis.

A Knight for the Runaway Nun (#2 in Convent Brides series) by Carol Townend - An evocative friends-to-lovers story set in Medieval France. From novice nun…To unexpected bride! Lady Bernadette is poised to take Holy Orders when Sir Hugo of Nérac, her father’s captain of the guards, arrives with news that her sister is expecting. Petrified of childbirth since her mother died, Bernadette races home. But now that she’s left the convent, her father wants her wed! There’s only one solution: marry Hugo, her childhood friend. But can she risk consummating their marriage and conceiving…even if his kisses are unbearably tempting? 

Beautiful Sinner (stand-alone novel in Beautiful series) by Sara Cate - “Lord, help me…A beautiful, young American girl wound up stranded far from home on my doorstep. When she begged me to stay, I did what a good priest would do, and I said yes. But a good priest wouldn’t spend his days thinking about the fullness of her ruby red lips or feel the sting of envy with the way she draws men to her like flies to honey. A good priest would have stopped things before that first touch. And he certainly wouldn’t have given into temptation so easily, but when Cadence Thorn walked in, she brought me to my knees. A good priest takes his vows seriously.But I am not a good priest.” Only available in Kindle Edition.

Collared: The Story of a Sir and Her Priest by Melissa Cohen - "Collared: The Story of a Sir and Her Priest" is the true story of a real-life Master/slave relationship between Melissa, a dominant woman, and Joseph, a submissive man ... who happens to be a Roman Catholic Priest. It's the story of their forbidden love and the emotional depths they explore, all the while having to keep their relationship a complete secret. But as their love deepens and her ownership of him grows more real, Joseph is faced with the choice between honoring his commitment to God and leaving the priesthood for a chance at the freedom to love.

Dirty Priests and Preachers Gay Erotica Collection by T. J. Royalty - Men of the cloth – without the cloth! Priests exploring forbidden urges. Preachers committing unholy sin. These stories will have you on your knees and praying for mercy! Compilation and individual stories featured are only available in Kindle Edition.

Dancing Priest (#1 in Dancing Priest series) by Glynn Young - Michael Kent... A young man studying to become a priest finds love, and learns that faith can separate. A university cyclist seeking Olympic gold finds tragedy, death and heroism. A pastor thousands of miles from home seeks vocation and finds fatherhood. Sarah Hughes... A young woman living abroad finds love and loses family. A university student meets a faith she cannot accept. An artist finds faith and learns to paint with her soul. Dancing Priest is the story of Michael Kent and Sarah Hughes and a love, born, separated, and reborn, in faith and hope.

Everybody Calls my Father, Father: The Scandalous, Passionate Love Affair Between a Catholic Priest and a Broadway Actress by Tim “Dr. Hope” Andres - Everybody Calls my Father, Father is based on the true life love story of the author's parents. The character of a tenacious young woman, Bouvette Sherwood, who is a successful New York Broadway producer and actress, drives the plot. In the mid 1940s Bouvette meets and falls in love with a charming alcoholic, Hughie Hewitt. He has a secret though, which he keeps from her during their intense courtship-he is a Catholic priest! Their love story unfolds into a kaleidoscope of intrigue, suspense, betrayal, and romance.

La Faute de L'Abbé Mouret (The Sins of Father Mouret) by Émile Zola - Serge Mouret, is an obsessively devout priest, aspiring to perfect purity and sanctity. A serious illness leaves him with amnesia, and no longer knowing he is a priest, he falls in love with his nurse Albine. Together they roam an Eden-like garden called the "Paradou," seeking a forbidden tree, beneath whose boughs they make love. Anguish follows, as the abbe regains his memory and returns to the church. In this, the fifth novel in the Rougon-Macquart series, Zola concentrates on the conflict between church and nature; celibacy and sexuality. A film adaption called The Demise of Father Mouret, starring Francis Huster and Gillian Hills, was released in 1970.

In Love With a Priest by Damilola Babs - In Love With a Priest poses a question to us all; when God chooses to hold a man, does he ever let go? Find out in the story of Maya Alpha Lange. A story of love, hurt and God's true peace.

Keeping His Commandments by Elle Keating - Desire, lust, love…You’re not supposed to feel those things for a woman, and you’re definitely not allowed to act on them when you’re a Catholic priest. I had taken vows; vows that I’ve upheld for eight celibate years, and had made a promise to God that I swore I would never break. But then I met Eva, my stepmother’s estranged twenty-eight-year-old daughter, and she made me forget who I was. What I was.I prayed for guidance.I prayed for the strength not to give into temptation.My prayers went unanswered…or so I thought

Léon Morin, Prêtre (The Passionate Heart) by Béatrix Beck - In a small French town during the Occupation, Barny is a young, wayward, sexually frustrated widow, living with her little girl. She is also a communist militant who long ago decided that the easiest way was the best. One day she enters a church, randomly chooses a priest and starts criticizing the religion. But the priest is Leon Morin, who is young, handsome, clever and altruistic. He believes that any sin can be expunged by a good dose of faith, and does not offer her the reaction she was expecting. She is disturbed. She starts frequenting Morin, impressed by his moral strength, while he makes it his mission to steer her onto the right path. A film adaptation starring Jean-Paul Belmondo and Emmanuelle Riva was released in 1961.

Love Letters of a Portuguese Nun by Gabriel de Guilleragues - The "Portuguese Letters" were published anonymously in 1669, alleged translations into French of letters written by a Portuguese nun to a French officer who had loved and left her. Recent scholarship suggests Guilleragues was their author. Reminiscent of the exchanges between Heloise and Abelard of an earlier time, the letters display a remarkable acuity of psychological insight into the mind of a woman in love and on the edge of hysteria.

Lesbian Nun Erotica: Forbidden Age Gap by Madeline Vey - A new student at an all girl's catholic school finds herself as the center of attention of her insatiable classmates. As the only... uncorrupted girl left on campus, she'll be forced to watch and tempted by the unspeakable acts committed by the other girls... until she's begging them to include her in their sin.

La Madre (The Woman and the Priest) by Grazia Deledda - The Woman and the Priest is the story of a struggle between a priest, his lover and his mother. It is an unusual book, both in its story and its setting in a remote Sardinian hill village, half civilized and superstitious.

Naughty Nuns and Passionate Priests: Three Erotic Shorts by Fallon Angel - Three stories of untouched nuns, guilty excitement, and willingly broken vows. This collection combines the Sin and Sacrilege trilogy into one volume.

Nun Better by Joanie Lindenmeyer with Carol Tierheimer - What happens when two women commit to serving the Catholic Church as nuns-Brides of Christ, taking vows of chastity-but fall passionately in love?They must defy the Church's rules against same-sex relationships and blaze a bold trail for a joyous, adventurous life together-at a time when LGBTQ people could be killed for being gay and same-sex marriage was decades in the future.Now Joanie Lindenmeyer and Carol Tierheimer are sharing their courageous and blissful, 40-year journey in NUN BETTER: An AMAZING Love Story. Their breathtaking love story showcases the magic and miracles of love, and two women's unshakable devotion to spreading joy and peace in the spirit of God.

Original Sinners: The Nun and the Priest by Alexis Honeywell - The moment that Serena and Luke met, they were both consumed by an overwhelming attraction. Of course it was forbidden - he was a priest, and she was a nun - but they couldn't help themselves. Suddenly their chaste, celibate lives felt like a prison, and they longed to be free, to lose themselves in passion together, even if the consequences altered their lives forever.

Pretty Parishioners (4 book series) by Willa Pope - Only available in Kindle Edition (1. Punished by the Priest, 2. Passed Around by the Priest, 3. Pleasuring the Priest and 4. Performing for the Priest). Each smutty stand-alone installment of this series chronicles the escapades between various women and a priest.

The Priest, His Lady and the Drowned Child by Mary Cavanagh - For twenty years, Father Ewan McEwan, a Roman Catholic priest, has enjoyed a passionate long-term relationship with Marina Proudfoot, an older woman of great beauty and refinement, whose two-year-old daughter and husband were tragically drowned in a boating accident. But when Marina unexpectedly dies, the emotional fallout affects not just Ewan, but Marina's son, Timothy, his lover, Roger, and Roger's wife, Sally. Now Ewan must survive not only his profound grief but also the secret revelations she leaves behind.

The Priest by Patsy George - From the time Joseph Grant is a young child he dreams of being a priest. He is an honest, hardworking and likable boy that rises above tragedy. He befriends the neighborhood parish priest, Father Marc, whom remains Joseph's father figure and mentor throughout his young challenging life. Joseph is the quintessential child grown out of pure unadulterated love. His young childhood and adolescence is filled with dreams of pastor ship and unconditional love for all mankind. Then he faces and surmounts the most heart wrenching experience a young man could possibly face. After rising above heartbreak he sets out to fulfill his childhood dream as a responsible young adult. Joseph's life takes an unexpected turn while at college. He meets a young lady named Emily, whom he has an instant attraction to. Their friendship turns to innocent love, and gives Joseph a tough decision to make. His ultimate decision, in his confusion, is to attend a seminary in which he has been accepted at. He forces himself to complete the journey he started, while never forgetting his Emily. While attempting to accomplish his lifelong dream, he endures some shocking surprises and discoveries. Some of his fellow seminarians are not of the same moral fiber as Joseph. These and other revelations help him make a decision to defy what he views as unfair and inaccurate manmade restrictions placed on priests. Joseph gains a following that not even the Pope can deny. He eventually rocks the very core of the Vatican by just being himself.

Priest by D. Greg Denton - Chase was a child of privilege. Max was not. Chase had lofty goals. Max had one, to survive high school. Chase took it upon himself to rescue Max. Max just wanted to be near Chase, but then they both graduated and went their separate ways. A few years later, they came together again, by chance. But they were separated when Chase chose a life of service to God and His people over the man he loved. Fate would bring them together one more time and it was up to Chase to do the right thing… by Max this time. Would their love survive all they’d already been through and what awaited them next? Available in Kindle Edition.

The Priest’s House: Pregnant to a Man Who Cannot Resist the Calling of God by Claire Marie - The coldest day in hell for Jo Burnside is the day her lover, Fr. Michael Toner, takes on responsibility for a remote parish instead of fleeing with her to Canada and a new life. Jo accompanies Michael to his new parish. She expects disapproval if not outright condemnation for seducing a 'holy' Catholic priest. What she finds is a parochial house reeking of betrayed innocence.The lovers are found naked in bed together, then a patient under Jo’s care in the local hospital, haemorrhages and dies. This threatens a black depression in Jo who has just discovered that she is pregnant. The priest, Michael, has his own problems, including crippling injuries. Michael would work himself to death without Jo's restraining influence. In the new parish, he discovers a resentful congregation, a young mother without any hope of redemption, and he finds himself pursued by a sex-obsessed failed nun. Then the bishop comes storming into their lives, threatening excommunication if Jo doesn’t renounce Michael forever.

Plum’s Priest Daddy (standalone novel in Clover City Little series) by Honey Meyer - Plum Brolingtide is the rockabilly fashionista who owns Caffeinatrix--Clover City’s premier cafe. The buxom barista’s favorite hobby? Flirting outrageously with the priest who frequents her establishment. Gideon Davies is the handsome and unflappable priest at All Saints church who has a weakness for almond croissants, flat whites, and disciplining mouthy young women. Plum and Gideon get to know each other in the biblical sense and beyond but a tragedy at Plum’s cafe forces their hand to put a label on their affair. Sure they have a great time together, but can Plum see Gideon as a prospect for Mr. Right instead of just Mr. Right Now? And will Gideon be swayed by the chorus of voices in his congregation calling his relationship with Plum improper and ungodly? Available in Kindle Edition.

Pet Priest (3 part BDSM MLM series) by Natasha Ryder - Only available in Kindle Editions (1. The Dreams, 2. Waking Life and 3. Beyond Dreams) Father Sean O'Leary has been struggling with a secret his whole life. A secret that could ruin his entire career, not to mention put his immortal soul in grave danger. He has a male lover who comes to him in his dreams, and not only that, but that lover is an agent of evil, a demon named Adriel. No one has never made Sean feel like Adriel does, sinful, forbidden, perfect acts of pure lust that could ruin him forever. Every time Adriel touches him, Sean feels like he loses more of himself to the demon, and that's not a good thing because Adriel doesn't seem entirely happy to simply remain in his dreams. Can love truly conquer all, even between a priest and a demon?

Sister Matthew and Sister Rose: Novices in Love by Carol Anne Douglas - Maureen Collins, recently named Sister Matthew in the novitiate at St. Euphrosnye’s convent in Western Maryland in 1962, doubts the existence of God. She entered the convent for several reasons: she thinks being surrounded by believers might help her believe; she knows she’s attracted to women and wants to avoid pressure to date men and marry; and she feels guilty about something that happened when she was in high school. She quickly falls in love with Rose Clancy, now Sister Rose, another novice who also is attracted to women. Rose is more religious, but she reciprocates Sister Matthew’s feelings. She grew up with an alcoholic mother and found a refuge among the nuns who taught her. As the two move through postulancy and the novitiate, they encounter many challenges from the strict rules to memories of their respective pasts. The memory of an old murder intrudes in the present.

Sins of the Sister I: Genesis, a Romance Novel by Elle Doan - In the summer of 1917, Angelique and her older sister, Charlotte, are two lovely but sheltered Creole sisters from the countryside who are entering the convent in New Orleans. The sisters are best friends but Angelique has always lived in Charlotte's shadow because of Charlotte's great beauty and tremendous academic ability. On their way to New Orleans, they encounter a dashing yet mysterious priest, Father Pascal, and Angelique is immediately enamored with him. Living in the harsh and divided city of New Orleans finally forces the two sisters deal with discrimination, class differences, and even romance. Angelique, who has never desired marriage or even sex, must confront her growing feelings towards Father Pascal, who is also haunted by his torturous past. Her rivalry with her sister and other wealthier nuns threaten Angelique's relationship with Charlotte. The Reverend Mother takes an immediate dislike to the free-spirited and free-thinking Angelique, and wants to expel her from the nunnery. Will Angelique remain in the convent? Can she repair her relationship with Charlotte? Can she resolve her feelings towards the brooding and aloof Father Pascal? Only available in Kindle and eBook Editions.

The Sacred Sins of Father Black: A MM Forbidden Priest Romance by St. John Starling - Father Sebastian Black might be a saint, or he might be the Devil himself. Either way there is nothing simple or innocent about this small town Catholic priest. When the FBI sets their sights on the town of Hopewell, they cannot know what they will uncover. With a spate of forged rare wines flooding the auction houses of the world, even communities as charming and innocuous as Father Black’s church are subject to scrutiny. It's only when Father Black meets the man they've sent that the walls he has built around himself begin to come tumbling down and all of his secrets are laid bare one by one. Quentin Day is brilliant, charismatic, and, above all, dedicated to the truth — everything an FBI agent should be. In practice, all this does is force him to stand alone in a corrupt system. Ordered to a remote town in pursuit of forgers, he finds himself irresistibly falling for the local priest. This is a tragedy for him. After all, priests are off-limits, aren’t they? Or is Father Black more than meets the eye? Available in Kindle Edition and on Payhip.

Saints and Sinners (10 part series) by Amie Barnes - Are we saints or are we sinners? These priests are both as they lead their flock but become tempted by one in their parish. An anthology series depicting various priests and their fall from grace. Only available in Kindle Edition (1. My First Confession, 2. My Biggest Temptation, 3. The Sweetest Sin, 4. In the Father’s House, 5. The Father’s Discipline, 6. The Father’s Protection, 7. The Father’s Obsession, 8. The Father’s Troublemaker, 9. The Father’s Downfall, and 10. The Father’s Siren).

Sacrilege: A Forbidden Dark Romance Anthology - Corruption. Sin. Greed. Temptation. Nothing is sacred. Not the priest who looks at you with hunger etched into his rugged face. Not the nun who hides her secrets in the scars on her arms. Definitely not the theology professor who keeps his student long after class is over. A different kind of worship. A wicked type of praise. A devil's paradise and an angel's ruin. Get on your knees, but don't bother calling out to Him. No one can save you from sin.

Sweetest Sins: A Lesbian Romance Novella by Aurora Lemaire - Lonely, free-spirited Lily dreams of becoming a nun. She's been a good Catholic girl all her life but that changes the day she catches her idol, mysterious nun, Jane, reading a steamy lesbian romance. Now Lily is questioning everything she once knew. What else is the brooding Jane hiding? Can Lily risk discovering her secrets when the Mother Superior is already determined to send her packing? Or will the desire building between them destroy everything they've both worked for? Only available in Kindle and eBook Editions.

Slutty for Sin by DeeDee Cupps - Sister Anne always wanted to be a nun. When Sister Catherine joined the convent, that lifelong dream was replaced with hot, wet desire. How long can they withstand their growing lust? Only available in Kindle and eBook Editions.

Taking the Priest by Lola Bowie - When the sweet new choir teacher, Elodie, confesses her desires to gently peg and dominate the man of her dreams, Ben, her priest, has little idea that it is him she desires. Her fantasy awakens a deep longing inside of him. Is he brave enough to go on a journey of erotic pleasure and self-discovery? Could the young submissive priest have found another altar to worship before? A steamy short story containing gentle femdom, only available in Kindle and eBook Editions.

Trained by the Priest by Betty Black - I waited until marriage. But now I need to know what to do on my wedding night. And who better to teach me than my priest? In order to please my husband, I'm going to turn to the one man I trust above all else: the priest I've known my whole life. He'll teach me all the moves I need to make sure I'm a good little wife, willing and eager to please! Only available in Kindle Edition.

The Thorn Birds by Colleen McCullough - The Thorn Birds is a chronicle of three generations of Clearys—an indomitable clan of ranchers carving lives from a beautiful, hard land while contending with the bitterness, frailty, and secrets that penetrate their family. It is a poignant love story, a powerful epic of struggle and sacrifice, a celebration of individuality and spirit. Most of all, it is the story of the Clearys' only daughter, Meggie, and the haunted priest, Father Ralph de Bricassart—and the intense joining of two hearts and souls over a lifetime, a relationship that dangerously oversteps sacred boundaries of ethics and dogma. A television mini series adapted from the novel starring Richard Chamberlain and Rachel Ward aired in 1983.

To Love a Priest by Victor S. E. MouBarack - When Father Ignatius’ past catches up with him there is no way to escape the consequences for him and those around him. He must face facts regardless of how seriously they could affect his vocation as a priest. “TO LOVE A PRIEST” is the most controversial book in the Father Ignatius series and deals with questions on many peoples’ mind as yet unresolved by the Church. A gripping story of conflict between conscience and dogma, treating a delicate subject with compassion and forgiveness.

TamIng Rebellion by Hanna T. Corner - Kayla is abrasive and rebellious, getting herself kicked out of college for starting fights and buying bikes, so she's sent to a nunnery in order to correct her behavior. But she wasn't expecting nun Marlee, who has a voracious and suppressed sexual appetite sets out to spank disobedient Kayla into submission. Only available in Kindle and eBook Editions.

Trilogy of the Poor Horny Nuns by C. P. Waterman - A collection of stories comprising A Poor Nun's Endowment, The Poor Nuns in Revolt, and Return to the Poor Nuns, previously published during 2013-2014.  Set in England, 1348: Mary is a country girl with a tomboy streak. When she reaches adulthood and finds herself excluded from the company of the boys with whom she grew up, she rebels and her father consigns her to a convent. On the journey there, she is approached by an old crone and granted one wish; on an impulse, she makes a strange choice: she wants a penis, so she can be accepted in the young men's group. But fate consigns her to the priory, where Mary unwittingly falls under the spell of the evil Sister Benedicta, mistress of the novices; when Benedicta discovers Mary's anatomical transformation, she makes her her own private sex-pet and Mary finds herself installed as a hermitess, confined to a private cell... where only Benedicta can come and use her to fulfil her own sexual desires any time she wishes. The local priest is interested, too. Is there no escape? A chance visit by a face from her lost past - and the simultaneous arrival of the Great Pestilence (The Black Death) - offer her the opportunity she needs to get away. Will she grasp the moment with both hands? And what then, when the known world is turned upside down? Two more fantasies follow; on both occasions, Mary cannot resist returning to her friends to enjoy more intimacy at the convent. And, with her peculiar attribute, the nuns cannot resist her. And nor can the priests.... This (poorly titled) compilation edition is only available in Kindle and eBook Editions.

Unholy Desires by D. Williams - “As a spiritual leader of the community, I have been looked at for many things. Advice, guidance and sometimes just friendship. You meet a lot of different people in all stages of life while working for the Church but never have I met someone like her. The almost instant desire she stirs in me that I can not shake is unnerving. She tests my restraints, and I find myself forgetting my vows but, even worse, wanting to forsake them. It’s been said many times God only gives the hardest battles to his strongest soldiers, but this is one war I’m afraid I will lose. A Priest is only a man that can resist his unholy desires.”

The Village Priest (#3 in A St. Francis Hill Mystery series) by Tina Proffitt - Father Christian Hyman, a village priest in St. Francis Hill, South Carolina, loves Misty Sumner with all his heart, yet his dedication to his calling means that he cannot ever have her. Christian must discover what has happened to his dear friend, why she's afraid to leave her house and won't even look out the window that overlooks the steep valley beyond. Misty's life is unrecognizable to her since moving out of her house and into a cottage that sits at the edge of town overlooking the valley. When she learns of a nun's death, thrown from the high abbey wall into the very woods surrounding her home, many years ago, she must put her detective skills to work to assist the spirit that haunts her. Silas Baecere was a nineteenth-century village priest in St. Francis who loved Ada Gardiner very much, yet could not have her either. Memories of his life with Ada haunt him day and night. Her familiar scent lingers whenever he is alone in the house they once shared. Silas must come to grips with the kind of man he wants to be or lose Ada forever. Ada Gardiner, a nun whose loyalty to Father Silas knows no bounds, finds herself inextricably in love with him, which means disastrous consequences for them both. Her work as a scribe has taught her many things about magical, healing herbs, and the people of her village rely upon her for her medicinal wisdom. It also makes some fear her and want to hurt her. Ada must face her worst fear, being separated from her love.

Vows We Break by Serena Akeroyd - Vows. Savio lives by them. Dreams. I exist in them. Obsessed with a picture, I'm in Rome to get over writer’s block, but more importantly, I've come to the Eternal City to find someone. Savio is a broken soul. A French-Italian priest in the capital of the Catholic world, he preaches religious tenets he no longer believes in. He’s also the man I'm looking for. A priest who makes sinners pay. Who makes them burn for the temptations into which they fall. I exist to tempt him, my sole purpose is to save him, and my end goal is Savio—in my bed. My heart. My life. He's a fallen soul, desperately in need of a future that takes him away from the sinners who deserve to lose their lives for the evil they reap. Can I make him break his vows, make him fall to save both our souls before the Devil can embrace us both? 

The Wayward Priest by William N. McKelvy - Falling overboard, almost drowned, an attractive girl goes under a personality change. Her memory gone, only her survival instinct left, she is taken to a priest's African missionary. Lilly wakes up night after night in her bed exhausted, blood on her mouth and gown. She begs the Father to lock her up at night. The two of them fall in love. She crashes in a plane, he thinks she is dead. He goes to Ireland, leaves the priesthood, falls in love, then, then tragedy strikes. He returns to Africa dreaming of Lilly until one day ...

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Terrible Fic Ideas #93: Percy Jackson, but make it Dragon Age

Look. Contrary to all evidence I usually don't set out to come up with crazy crossovers, but sometimes my mind just seizes on a passing thought and will not let it go. Case in point: I've been replaying Dragon Age: Inquisition in honor of Veilguard coming out next month and had a passing thought wondering if anyone had ever tried mashing PJO and DA:I together. And so this insanity was born.

Or: What if Percy Jackson was the Herald of Andraste?

aka the From the Waters of the Fade fic

Just imagine it:

Everything happens according to canon until the end of MoA. As in canon, Percy grabs hold of Annabeth to keep her from being pulled into Tartarus... but unlike canon, she slips out of his grasp when he grabs hold of a ledge to check their fall. He lets go to fall in after her, but cannot see or reach her in the dark. They fall into the Cocytus seconds apart, but without Percy to shield her Annabeth dies instantly.

Percy, however, merely thinks they were separated by the current and travels through Tartarus looking for both her and the doors. It's not until the first time he allows himself to sleep that he learns the truth - and he vows to close the Doors of Death so that her sacrifice won't be in vain.

Canon continues apace - without Percy being ashamed of his poison powers because Annabeth isn't there to be afraid. He emerges from Tartarus determined to stop Gaia, though it's the kind of determination that speaks of immense misery and guilt being channeled into the one positive outlet he has.

(Though rather than the song and dance with the Physician's Cure in BOO, Percy takes a leaf out of Kronos' book and uses the Annabeth's cursed knife to carve Gaia into tiny pieces and scatter her to the winds - with the gods' help, after he shares his idea with Apollo on Delos.)

After the fighting ends, Percy falls into a deep depression. He manages to crawl out of it eventually - Dionysus and his powers of madness help a little here, as do Sally, Paul, and Estelle - and decides that rather than try to put back together the shambles of his mortal life, he'll stay at CHB as a sword instructor and (eventually) deputy camp director.

Fast forward to the summer Percy turns 24.

Things are going well. Though he's only taking classes part time, he's most of the way through degrees in social work and military history from NYU. The gods have done a good job of keeping their promises regarding their children and the minor gods, and even Athena has finally forgiven him for Annabeth's death. It looks like the start of a golden age.

All that is shattered when an unknown force enters CHB through the Labyrinth and kidnaps several of the youngest campers.

The alarm is raised and the demigods fight back... but several children are still taken, and Percy leads the group sent to rescue them.

The rescue attempt occurs while the kidnappers are camped next to a fissure in the Labyrinth, one which looks like it might go down to Tartarus if not for the acidic green glow it gives off. During the rescue, Percy falls into the fissure...

...and lands in the remains of the Temple of Sacred Ashes in Thedas.

And so Percy Jackson becomes the Herald of Andraste.

His intro to Thedas somehow manages to be even worse than his intro to CHB - but in their defense none of the others seem to realize he's not from this world until after The Wrath of Heaven, when he throws a bigger fit about being the Herald of Andraste than anyone expected from a human warrior. ("No, look: I can't be the Herald of Andraste. If I'm anyone's herald, it's Poseidon's - and I can't even be that because it's my brother's job and he's already worried I'm going to supplant him. Use my name or come up with a better title.")

Percy spends his first weeks in Haven confusing everyone around him. He's a warrior who uses a strange one-handed sword and rarely bothers with a shield - who is, in fact, more likely to use Annabeth's cursed knife as an off-hand weapon than anything else. He also has control over an element - water, in all its forms - that no mage in Thedas is known to have. And that's not even touching his strange armor preferences or references to an unknown pantheon of gods.

Only after In Your Heart Shall Burn - when Percy dumps an avalanche on the invading army without need of a catapult - do some start to believe he's from another world. Unfortunately, they take his off-the-cuff remarks about the Greek Gods, mix them with their Andrastian understanding of the world, and come to the conclusion that Percy is the grandson of Andraste and The Maker via their son, Poseidon.

("This is not what I meant by come up with a better title. Gods!")

The game proceeds apace, with the Inquisition doubling down with its heresy by claiming their Inquisitor is the Heir of the Maker.

Percy denies this at every turn, but everything he says is taken for proof of the new flavor of Andrastianism cropping up in the Inquisition. ("No, you don't understand, I used this knife to kill my despotic grandpa and his mom, neither of which was your Maker!" "Ah, Andraste must have been the half-mortal child of an Old God! I bet it was Zazikel!" "No, that's not what I- Sigh.")

In fact, the only one who believes that Percy is who he says he is at this stage is Dorian, who is eager to hear about the world he came from. They form a close friendship which slowly shifts into romance.

His actions in restoring peace throughout southern Thedas only encourage his new cult. Recruit both the mages and the templars and force them into peace talks? Why, that's what the Divine was trying to do! How holy of him! Close the rifts, fight Corypheus, and drive out the Venturi? Isn't that an echo of the first Exalted March? And so on.

Percy can feel himself being propelled towards apotheosis and nothing he does can close the floodgates.

He is a figure of awe and terror during Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, the Orleasian court not knowing whether to burn him for heresy - and risk becoming the next Hessarian - or fall down on their knees in worship. Percy hates it but cannot deny its utility in forcing Gaspard, Celene, and Briala into a public truce.

He cannot deny its usefulness either during the battle at Adamant Fortress, when many of the Wardens refuse to turn their sword against the grandson of the Maker.

Even so, Percy, Hawke, and their companions still fall into the Fade.

They are led through the Fade by Annabeth, who has been residing in this space between realties ever since her death in Tartarus.

There is much info dumping, but it boils down to: 1) Chaos bore many children, which created many worlds, of which Thedas and their earth are just two; 2) Most spirits stay in the world of their birth, but some - those that don't go to Hades or Tartarus - are sent to the Fade, which eventually wears away at their memory until they become archetypes of whatever defined them most in life - anger, faith, valor, fear, &c; 3) When Zeus killed Kronos the first time, his spirit was trapped in the Fade. Kronos created Thedas, but abandoned it when he found a way back to their earth; and 4) Time does not move the same between worlds. Annabeth believes that Kronos' death in the Second Titan War spurred the Fifth Blight in Thedas, and Gaea's death at the end of the Second Giant War is somehow behind the Breach - either as a consequence of their deaths or as part of their plot to return to earth.

("So I really am the grandson of their Maker? Fuck.")

The sequence continues - without gathering the Inquisitor's memories, as he never lost them in the first place. Annabeth sacrifices herself to stop the Nightmare - and when that's not enough, Percy's rage at watching his friend die because of him a second time is enough for Percy to take control of the waters in the Fade and destroy the Nightmare once and for all, without any need to leave Hawke or a warden behind.

Percy had been angry at Corypheus before. Now he's enraged.

Storms and earthquakes batter Corypheus' forces across Thedas. Horses in the enemy's forces escape their stables. The sea becomes dangerous for anyone to sail.

The same single-focused rage that allowed Percy to end the Second Giant War takes over Percy now. Though he leads an army through the Arbor Wilds, he deals more damage than all the rest combined. He pursues Corypheus to the Temple of Mythal, pulls his lyrium dragon from the sky, and uses his powers to hold it in place as he beheads it. (Corypheus' agonized scream is like music to Percy's ears.)

They make it to the Well of Sorrows, the Sentinels being unable to stop a god-in-waiting.

After Morrigan drinks from the Well, they learn that with Corypheus' dragon destroyed Corypheus will be unable to change bodies. All that remains is a Doom Upon All The World.

Corypheus expends the last of his power to reopen the Breach, but Percy has slain two gods and multiple dragons at this point and has the might of a cult behind him. It is nothing for him to destroy Corypheus once and for all, using the orb to tear Corypheus apart and scatter his remains through the Fade much as he'd done with Gaea back on earth.

This is all that's needed to tip Percy over into godhood. Flush with power, he returns the Anchor back to the Orb before destroying both for good...

...which enrages Solas, though there's nothing he can do. Percy is divinity in truth, with faith and power behind him, while Solas lost the better part of his strength with the destruction of the Orb.

The war is over - and another begins.

The Inquisition disbands, but is largely reformed as the center of a new denomination of Andrastianism - one which acknowledges Percy as the grandson of the Maker, returned to Thedas to retake the Black City and pave way for The Maker's return. It's hard position to deny now that Percy reeks of divinity, and thousands flock to their banner. Mother Giselle is their new leader as Divine Joyous III.

Meanwhile the Chantry has finally regrouped under the banner of Divine Victoria (born Vivienne de Fer), and thousands flock to their banner in order to crush the heretics. A war of religion looms and nothing Percy can say will stop it from coming.

Part of him doesn't want to stop it from coming. Worship is a heady thing, for all he tries to cling to the things that made him human.

His friends help with this, but his friends are only mortal. Even Dorian, who Percy has come to love dearly, can only do so much, and refuses to be made immortal even if it means they'd have an eternity together. One by one they die, and eventually Percy is left all alone: a god amid a sea of worshipers.

(One day Percy will march on the Black City. One day he will wage war against Kronos and Gaea, who are gathering their forces to wage a third war on the Greek and Roman worlds of their original earth... but that is another story.)

Bonuses include:

Percy clinging to his mortality with raw, bleeding fingers. Each denial instead becomes more proof for those who would rather have present god than an absent one. The larger his cult grows, the more power Percy has to stop Corypheus. Percy is forced to sacrifice more and more of his mortality to save the world... and in the end it is all he can do not to become the very thing he despised.

Despite all the angst... humor. As Edith Hamilton says of the Greeks, "But never, not in their darkest moments, do they lose their taste for life. It is always a wonder and a delight, the world a place of beauty, and they themselves rejoicing to be alive in it." Percy is not as goofy as he is in canon, but then he is a young adult now. He's grown, but he's still happy to play and tease and live even in the midst of death.

The implication that the group which infiltrated CHB at the beginning are a group of clear-sighted mortals opposed to the existence of the gods. Some are relatives of demigods who died in the wars, others are opposed on religious grounds, and some just think western civilization is a scourge on the earth, but entirely mortal.

Percy being absolutely sure that Hawke is a demigod like himself - probably the child of the Old God Razikale. He has no idea how that might even work, but thinks it explains a lot about Hawke's power, to say nothing of the fact that Leandra doted on the twins but was far more critical of her theoretically oldest child. No proof is ever found for this, but things should be circumstantial enough that even Hawke starts to wonder about it once they learn of it.

And that's all I have - which, as usual, is far more than I ever thought I would. As always, feel free to adopt this plot bunny, just link back if you ever do anything with it.

More DA Ideas | More PJO Ideas | More Terrible Fic Ideas

[copiousloverofcopia]

THE TIME HAS FINALLY COME!😭

This is the definite LAST CHAPTER of HOLY MARY!

I got so emotional, so many times while writing this chapter and because of the content I apologize but I need to risk some spoilers for the sake of those who might be triggered so…

⚠️TRIGGER WARNING FOR DESCRIPTIONS OF BIRTH, GORE, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, INFANT DEATH/LOSS, GRIEF⚠️

Thank you so much for coming on this journey with me, Terzo, and Mary. I can't believe that this all stemmed from an ask on Tumblr that flourished into this full-fledged fic. Thank you so much to the anon that requested this. It was an honor to write it and thank you all so much for reading!

Commissions are OPEN, please see pinned post for Carrd info!

Beautiful divider credit to @gothdaddyissues

Holy Mary

Sister Mary Catherine was only weeks away from taking her vows when she has a chance encounter with a man. A man she finds out is the Pope of the Satanic church.

Chapter 10: The Ultimate Sacrifice

Also available HERE on AO3! Haven’t started yet? Read from the beginning HERE!

Definitely NSFW below!

“Please.” Secondo begged, staring into his little brother’s eyes. 

“I don’t want to do this Secondo. Understand that I…I have to….”

1 Hour Earlier…

Lucifer seemed to leave as quickly as “she” came. Terzo was left alone in his thoughts, pondering the horrors that were to come. The blood shed that would be on his hands. Dripping from them in the wake of his decision. Cursed by his own dark god to choose between Mary, his child, and that of his own brother. 

The world all together seemed to stop. The sounds of the wind rustling in the trees and birds chirping ceasing around him. Leaving him frozen in the eerie silence. Nothingness—emptiness. Terzo was perched on his knees in a haze when from somewhere in front of him came a voice. Coming closer and closer while the words came into focus.

“Terzo…please come back inside. Let’s talk.” Secondo suggested, wanting to find a way to make things right between them. Settle this rivalry that he had, himself, set in motion. 

“Please go.” Terzo snapped, refusing to look at him. Though Secondo would not give up that easily. Never in his life had he felt such remorse. Everyone knew all too well that it was not in his nature to apologize. Growing up as the middle Emeritus son, he was never allowed to be wrong or admit defeat in anything—lest he be held as less than. 

All things for him came as a task, one he must meet head on and without hesitance. Always striving to be better than Primo before him and Terzo who followed. Needing to prevail in all things as Nihil’s supposed favorite. Perceived as the most devout of all—only inside he was still a scared, lonely child. Worried that no matter how hard he would try, nothing would ever be enough. 

The feeling of inadequacy had been festering inside him so long, though he would never admit it. The constant fear led him further into a path of self-destruction. A path that now had led to the betrayal of his little brother. Lusting for Mary’s love—something he had no right to take from him.

“For what it’s worth, fratello, I know I was wrong…and I’m sorry.” Secondo admitted. His words, eliciting a look of shock from Terzo, though he still refused to look him in the eye. Terzo could tell he was being sincere. The fact that the mere words came from his brother’s own two lips told Terzo it was the truth.

“I know.” was all Terzo could say back to him. His anger, still simmering inside of him as he tried to let it go. There were so much more important things to be concerned with now and whether Secondo knew it or not—Terzo held his life in his hands.  

“When you are ready, I hope you both can forgive me.” Secondo told him, his brother nodding as he was left once again alone in the garden. Still on his knees, agonizing over what was to come. 

Mary was sleeping soundly, her face almost peaceful as a child's. Primo, keeping careful watch over her and checking in occasionally with the help of the Abbey physician. Reassuring himself that she and the baby were still doing alright. Just as he sat back down in the chair, opposite her in the room, there was a knock on the door. The young newly ghoulettes, Cirrus and Cumulus had arrived with Omega as their charge. Standing in the doorway, excitedly awaiting news of Mary's recovery. 

“Please come in Omega, dolcezze.” Primo smiled. The ghoul and ghoulettes bowed as they all carefully walked into the room. Doing their best to not disturb Mary. 

“How is she Papa? Is the baby coming?” Cumulus asked, looking at Mary with such concern and care in her glowing eyes. Her devotion towards Mary and her child, touching Primo’s soul.

“Not yet…eh…we must still wait and see. There is not much else we can do at this time. At least that is what they are telling me.” he sighed. Relaxing back into the chair as he old joints hummed with arthritic pain from all his standing.   

“Where is the doctor? The nurses?” Omega asked, noting that when he and the ghoulettes arrived at the infirmary there was no one else to be seen. The halls and rooms, appearing empty and silent. 

“I believe they had gone into town for some more supplies. With all the wounds, we are quickly running low on bandages and gauze.” Primo explained, his thin smile only barely hiding his concern. 

“Primo?” came a soft voice. It was Mary, slowly coming to from her unconscious state. Her eyes, fluttering open to see the four of them all surrounding her. All of them, smiles spreading fast as she tried to pull herself up a bit in the bed. 

“Mary, please don’t try to move too much.” Primo told her, rising up as fast as his body would allow. Helping Omega settle her into a comfortable position in the bed. 

“Where is Terzo?” she asked, still a bit hazy from her slumber. Feeling achy all over with her head feeling an intense throb. 

“He’ll be back soon.” Primo assured her, taking her hand in his and sitting beside her on the edge of the bed.  

“He needed to get some fresh air, pretty sure he headed out to the garden.” Omega continued. Mary stared down at her belly. Watching as the little life inside her moved beneath her tightly stretched skin. His kicking, stronger than she had ever felt it before. Ready any day now to come triumphantly into the world. A child that she knew now was destined to be humanity’s undoing.

“I—I shouldn’t have come here. I have placed us all in danger.” she told him. Her voice low, almost a whisper, as if she was scared to have anyone else hear it. Frightened on what she might be asked to do again in her darkest hour. 

“Coming here was exactly what you should have done piccola. This child and you belong here with us—with Terzo.” Primo said, squeezing her hand. The tears spilled quietly down and over the round softness of her cheeks. Cradling her belly in her arms as she sniffled back. Trying desperately not to sob.  

“He will be the antichrist. Satan will take him as a vessel for evil. We will all be destroyed…” Mary cried, gripped tight to her belly as if she could protect her child from his fate.

“Do you really believe that?” Primo asked her. The two of them, locking in a stare as Mary swallowed back her guilt.  

“What else am I to believe? I have condemned us all.” 

“You know…many children have been born into the Emeritus family and none of them have destroyed anything. Unless you count my patience.” Primo said, his humor relieving some of the tension in the room. Mary, even laughing along with him through the tears. 

“I love him Primo.” Mary said, whipping away the droplets from her eyes. Wishing that it was all a dream. That she and Terzo would live happily ever after like they do in fairy tales. No prophecies or damnation, a child born to them that was no more evil than herself—a sinner who was otherwise good. 

“I know you do, and he loves you and that baby more than anything in creation.” Primo smiled. Mary, gently smiling back at him before she tried to straight out a bit more. Wincing after only a moment. Her brow furrowing hard on her forehead as her hand came up to rest upon her swollen belly.

“What’s wrong?” asked Cirrus, rushing over to her bedside. 

“Oh no…” she said, her eyes growing wide as the wet spot between her legs grew larger across the sheets. “My water just broke. The baby is coming.” 

“Shit.” Omega remarked, but Primo without hesitation took control. Though inside he too was scared. Never in his life did he imagine any of this would come to pass. Most certainly that he would ever need to help deliver a child.

“It’s going to be alright piccola.” he began, turning to face Omega and the ghoulettes as they stood anxiously nearby.  

“Omega, get Terzo here now.” 

Terzo had sat quietly on the ground. His head hung low between his knees as he tried pulling himself together enough to return inside. Each moment without Mary near was enough to drive him mad. Though he knew now things were once again forever changed between them. 

He lifted up his head. Closing his eyes and drawing forth a deep breath as he prepared to stand, when he felt the weight of something on his lap. Opening his eyes to look down at a dagger that laid across him. Small enough to be concealed and sharp enough to slice through bone. 

“What the–” He began, lifting the dagger to take a closer look. It was the same one from Gabriel. The hilt, still shimmering with celestial light. Weighted well in his hand as he twisted it around. 

“You know what to do.” said a voice. Seeming to come from inside him, “...use their own blade to give me what I ask.” Terzo shook off the thought as he tucked the blade into his coat pocket. Hearing another familiar voice calling out to him. 

“Terzo! Terzo!” they yelled. Instantly he recognized it was Omega. The ghoul had quickly turned the corner and came running into the garden clearing. Urgently calling out to him as the ghoul’s face looked frightened and helpless. Unlike Terzo had ever seen before.

“Omega…what—”

“No time, Mary has gone into labor!” he explained. Yanking Terzo off the ground and onto his feet. The two of them, taking off towards the Abbey. His faithful companion unaware of what Terzo had been asked—what he was now certain he must do. 

 “Just breathe, Mary. He’s on his way.” Primo assured her. Cumulus moved quickly as she began wringing out the washcloth of cool water, placing it back on Mary’s forehead. Her face covered in tears and her body dripping with sweat. The pain of her labor, becoming more and more intense with each passing second. 

“Oh…ah…I changed my mind. I don’t wanna do this anymore.” she cried. Her hands gripped tightly to the sheets. Turning white, nails tearing through the fabric as another contraction hit her.

“I think it’s too late for that.” Cirrus told her, peeking her head out in the hall for any sign of Omega and Terzo’s return. 

 “Ah!” Mary screamed. Primo brought himself down at the end of the bed. Lifting up the sheet to see a gush of blood pouring out from inside her. So much blood that a chill ran through him. Scared that the child may already be gone. Something he knew he couldn’t tell her. 

“Mary, please breathe.” he said once again. Trying his best to hide his fears, when suddenly the wounds from the stigmata began opening up. One by one, each of them splitting open again until she was covered in blood. Screaming and crying from all the intense pain. Inescapable and horrifying. 

“Oh fuck, it’s tearing through me!” Mary screamed. Her dress now completely soaked in blood from the waist down as Primo and the ghoulettes tried to hold her down. Mary quickly was falling further into madness, bleeding out before them. Cursed with visions of Heaven and Hell, furiously fighting a war that would never be won. Surrounded by blood and gore—the likes of which were of an indescribable amount. Covering all the world as the sound of Satan’s laughter began filling her ears.

As another contraction hit, she screamed again. This time begging for death, for God to take her and spare her baby. Gripped tightly onto Cumulus' hand. The ghoulette’s claws, going numb in her grasp. There was nothing they could do to stop it—this baby was coming and now.   

“It’s going to be ok Mary, don’t push yet. It’s too soon.” Primo begged. Watching as she writhed around in the bed. The stigmata wounds, continuing to bleed, spattering across the room as she struggled against the ghoulettes’ hold. Both of them, looking at one another in fear before turning their sights on Primo. Knowing that Mary and her child would likely not make it.

She had lost so much blood. Her screams, turning to a deafening silence. Mary, completely void of strength as her labor continued. Crying softly as she clung barely on to life. All of them, helpless to watch her and her child dying before their eyes. Primo continued doing his best to assist. Holding himself together like he always did in times of crisis. Praying that at least one of them would be spared of this fate.

When all had seemed at its bleakest, Terzo and Omega could finally be heard running down the Hall. Catching sight of Secondo as he too was making his way down to the infirmary. The rest of the Abbey inhabitants lining the halls as the screams from poor Mary had flooded the building—blood curdling cries, sent echoing throughout every square inch, alerting them to the situation. They were nothing but a blur as Terzo and the others burst through the doorway.

“How is she? Oh, Mary I’m so sorry.” Terzo cried, covered in sweat and smeared paint. Filled with horror at the sight of her. Blood everywhere, covering everything around them. His love’s face, pale and stone still. Looking as if she were only moments from death. Terzo realized that it was now or never. 

“She’s lost so much blood fratellino, I don't think either of them are going to make it.” Primo told him. The old man’s face filled with more sorrow than Terzo had ever seen at his admission. The rise and fall of Mary’s chest, barely discernible, now slowing as her time drew near. 

“This can’t be…we must be able to do something.” Secondo chimed in, the guilt of his covetousness weighing heavily on him. Worried that he had somehow allowed this to happen. That somehow, he too was at fault and that both God and Lucifer had forsaken Mary and her child for his own defiance and greed. 

“There—there is something.” Terzo began. The words, barely making it out of him as all others in the room stopped to face him. Waiting for his answer as Terzo swallowed back, tasting the foulness in his mouth for what he was about to say—about to do. 

“What is it?” Primo asked, bringing his hands between Mary’s legs to feel for the baby’s head. Its small peak of hair, just palpable from inside her. “We must hurry, I can feel the head.”

“Oh fuck.” Omega gulped, feeling dumbfounded and lost. Terzo slipped his hand within his coat. Pulling from it the blade hidden within. Instantly the tears began to fall from his eyes. 

“This.” he told them. All eyes falling to the sharp edge of the blade. 

“What?” Secondo asked as Terzo began sobbing. Looking over to Mary as she had all but bled out. Watching the life slip away from her as he stood before his brother. Holding the blade, he was to murder Secondo with, in his hands. Scared he had waited too long and that even now it was too late for Mary and their child to survive. Would he be sacrificing Secondo for nothing? 

“I was visited in the garden by Lucifer.” he began, everyone’s attention held in a vice. The presence of the old one, felt even now in the room. Surrounding them in a veiled cloud of darkness. 

“And?” Primo said as he and the ghoulettes continued to try and take care of Mary as best they could. 

“I was told that the child would be spared its fate as the antichrist if I—I…”

“If you what stronzo? Spit it out.” Secondo hissed, though it seemed to Terzo as if he knew. As if something had told him already that a deal had been made.  

“If I kill you.” Terzo admitted, the sounds of gasping filling the room. “But I just can’t.”

“Then do it.” Secondo told him. Realizing this was it—this was his chance, given to him by Lucifer to redeem himself. A chance for him to make things right between them.

“I never wanted to make this choice!” Terzo cried out when suddenly Secondo came to stand before him.

“I said do it! Do it now!” he yelled, taking the blade from Terzo and positioning it against the flesh of his chest. Wrapping Terzo’s hands around the hilt as he continued on. “Kill me now. It’s the only way.” Secondo told him, the hint of tears glazing his eyes.    

“But Secondo… I…” Terzo tried to continue. His sobbing, blurring his vision more as he heard Secondo too had succumbed to his emotions. The rest of them, waiting with bated breath as the two brothers reached their inescapable fate. 

“Please.” Secondo begged, staring into his little brother’s eyes. His heart aching, pounding—breaking. Both of them were covered in sweat. Chests heaving with labored breath and souls crying out from within. 

“I don’t want to do this Secondo. Understand that I…I have to….” Terzo cried, trying to reason with himself. This was the only way to save Mary. To save his child from death. 

“Then do what you have to do.” Secondo smiled softly. 

“Oh cazzo…Secondo I can’t. I can’t.” Terzo yelled. Cursing the Devil and God alike as he stood with the blade pressed just above his brother’s beating heart. 

“I have not been a good brother to you Terzo. Let me do this.” Secondo begged, Terzo pulling away and pacing the room. Feeling as though he may die before being able to make the choice. His whole body aching as each second passed. 

“I just…I can’t.” Terzo cried once more. Secondo had had enough. Looking at Mary as she lay in the bed. Covered in crimson red, inches from death. Knowing that deep down this was the only way to save her. Confident that his sacrifice—their sacrifice would fix it. 

“Ah!” Secondo yelled, charging towards him. Forcing Terzo to finish him. The blade, plunging deep into Secondo’s chest. Everyone was in shock as Secondo dropped to the ground. The dagger sticking out from his front. Letting go from his mortal coil as a smile spread across his face. It was done. 

“Why?” Terzo asked him as he fell to his knees. Kneeling beside him and pulling him close in his arms. 

“I love you.” Secondo told him as he began to cough. The blood stained his normally blackened lips, red. The second Emeritus son had slipped away in peace.

“I love you.” Terzo cried as Secondo fell lifeless in his arms. Setting his brother carefully down to the floor in silence. The loudest silence any of them had ever known. 

“Terzo…” Mary’s voice rang out in the quiet of the room. Barely above a whisper it managed to carry him as he turned to face her in her severely weakened state. All of them, relieved to hear her knowing she had been spared as promised in the wake of Secondo’s death. 

“Amore.” Terzo called out, rushing to her side and taking her hand. Primo could feel the baby’s head was crowning. 

“We are almost there.” he told Terzo, trying his best to continue on in the chaos. Feeling, as Mary had another contraction, that the cord was wrapped around the baby's neck. Terzo immediately noticed the look flash across Primo’s face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, watching his brother work to get the baby out as fast as he could.

“It’s too late.” Mary cried. Terzo, feeling helpless as Primo refused to answer him. Mary brought his hand to her side. Feeling the blood as it began pouring out from the final stigmata wound. The wound had appeared without her even making a whimper. Too weak and far gone to even respond as she began slipping steadily away.

“Oh fuck. No! No!” Terzo yelled as Mary went limp. Primo, working his hardest to help deliver the baby who had managed to come through the birth canal. Removing the ensnarement of the cord. Crushed to find no signs of life as he held the small bundle in his arms. 

“Terzo…I’m so sorry.” Primo told him, holding the baby closely in his arms. His face filled with tears. Sniffling back to try his best to speak. “He’s gone.” 

“NO! You promised me!” Terzo howled. His voice, cracking in pain as his screams reached both Heaven and Hell. Raging at the universe and all things within it. Ready to burn existence down before him.

I PROMISED YOU NOTHING INSOLENT WHELP.

The voice said, echoing all around them. All of them immediately knew who it came from. God himself, coming to gloat that he had prevailed. Taken everything from Terzo and his beloved Mary.

“God?” Mary asked, barely alive. Knowing that her baby was gone. Her life was destroyed, and she no longer cared about anything. Wishing for her death to come. 

You defied me Mary. You refused to erase your sin and now two people have died instead of one. 

“You fucking piece of shit!” Terzo growled, wishing he had any control. His son was dead, held still in his brother’s arms. His other brother, lifeless on the floor. The love of his life barely holding on as her own God smugly berated her—blamed her.

“I—” Mary began, somehow managing to continue on. 

I am however a benevolent God. I can give you a second chance. Beg me for forgiveness and repent for your sins and I shall heal thee. Welcome you back into the bosom of Heaven. Absolve you of sin. 

Mary looked over to Primo, seeing her baby for the first time. His little hand, just visible above the blanket as Primo held onto him. Knowing that he had never been able to draw his first breath. Feel the love she held for him in her heart. A heart now torn in a million pieces. Shattered like glass, never able to be whole again in his absence. She no longer cared about what would happen to her, ready to have God strike her where she stood but not before she said her peace.

“I no longer want your paradise.” she began. Her tears, so intense that her voice could barely continue through them. “You are nothing. Nothing but false promises and veiled wickedness.” she cried, when the sound of hissing came loudly pouring into the room. A snake slithering across the bloodied floor. Gliding in a winding swirl over Secondo's body, before coiling up onto the bed beside where Mary lay. The serpent, beginning to speak to them, though its lips never moved. 

“I ALWAYS keep my promises.” it said as suddenly a cry came out from the little bundle in Primo’s arms. The once pale hand, turning pink as the child wriggled in his uncle's arms. Primo, smiling down and crying as the baby announced himself unto the world.

All of them, joyous and shocked that the child was now alive. Mary too was returning to her normal color. The blood that had covered her, slowly disappeared as if it was never spilled. Primo, quickly handing Mary her son. His small face brightly shining as Terzo held the two of them in his arms.  

“Our baby.” he cried. The tears now of pure joy as he buried his face into Mary’s hair. 

“He’s going to be alright.” Primo told them. Both Mary and Terzo, filled with relief as she turned her sights upward. Addressing God head on as he watched them in annoyance. 

“It is in the devil and his servant, my sweet Terzo, that I have found the truth of what you are. The father who would abandon his child for a gentle sin.” Mary yelled. The smile on her face, cold towards her once beloved deity as God’s light shone within the room. So bright that it nearly blinded them. 

Be damned then you fool. Enjoy what you have now…until we meet again.

God said, his voice tainted with hatred as the bright light faded away. Disappearing into the ceiling before leaving all of them alone together. The serpent too had disappeared in thin air, just as Terzo and Mary had held tightly to one another. Their little boy cooing away in his parent’s arms. 

One Week Later…

It was a rainy day. Crisp and windy, just as he would have liked it, Terzo imagined as he prepared himself for Secondo’s funeral. A day like this was his favorite kind. The energy of a storm on the horizon and the cleansing power of the rain was always something Secondo held dear. 

Terzo smiled at the thought. Though his brother may never have thought so, Terzo knew now that Secondo had truly been the best of them. Willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for those he loved. One Terzo would never let anyone forget.  

“It’s almost time.” Mary said, coming to meet him. Annoyed to still find him getting dressed in his vestments. Clearly losing himself in thought as the day weighed on him.

“I know, come here.” he smiled, a hit of bittersweet emotions held in his eyes. Holding out his hands as he waited for Mary to give him their son. Little baby Luca, who was sleeping soundly in her arms, looked just like his father in every way. 

“Don’t wake him Terzo, I just got him to fall asleep.” Mary pleaded, gently handing him over. The little boy stretched; eyes still closed as he nuzzled into his father’s chest. The quiet hum of his snores and the tiny beats of his heart, felt softly against Terzo’s grasp. Tears falling from his eyes.

“Will he ever know how much he is loved?”

“He will…we will make sure of it.” Mary replied, pushing up on her toes to kiss Terzo’s forehead. Careful to not disturb his paints. 

“You were right, you know, all children are gifts from God.” Terzo smiled.

“I just was mistaken on which God.” Mary smiled, “...now let's get going.” she continued, taking the baby back from him as they headed down the stairs towards the chapel.

Terzo was overwhelmed as he walked down the nave. The pews, lined with flowers and plants of emerald, green. All in honor of his brother's color. He tried not to think about it as he approached the sanctuary. The casket staring him down, making it harder for him to keep it together.  

This brother’s loss felt heavy among the siblings, ghouls, clergy, and congregation. Terzo wondered if now Secondo could see just how much he meant to others. Just how important he really was. Just before stepping up to the pulpit, to give his final respects, Terzo placed his hand on the top of the casket.

“You were the best of us all.” he whispered, hoping that Secondo could hear him. Sniffling back as he prepared to give his brother’s eulogy. “Thank you.” 

Notes:

dolcezze- sweethearts

piccola- little one (feminine)

Stronzo- asshole

[kakisocks]

A Master List of Rex/Anakin Fics

Every fic from my ao3 bookmarks that have Rex and Anakin together. There will be some polyamory in there with Padme or Obi-wan as a warning

I will be warning you if a fic ain’t complete I just don’t want to write out all the way, if polyamory is involved I will say with who and stuff. If there’s a trigger warning I’ll try to catch them here instead of not including them but I’m not perfect so be careful please.

Also unless stated otherwise, each fic is rexwalker and complete.

happy browsing :)

______________________________________________________________

Fluff

How To Care For Your Jedi (or, rex is a total softie).

What An Honor // What An Injustice

What’s in a Name?

Rumor Has It

Don’t Touch Mysterious Orbs (Obi-wan/Anakin/Rex)

Anakin has too Much Paperwork

After Battle Meditation (Rex/Anakin)

i’ll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands)

Poor Show

Short on Rations

A Credit For Your Thoughts

Give me just a few minutes to make this memorable for us both

Brother, Captain, King

within and without

the colors you press into my skin (Anakin/Padme/Rex)

Inside This Place Is Warm

Luminescent

Heartbeat

Wow, Rex actually knows his first name?

a midsummer day’s allergens

In Which Anakin Chickens Out

Perfect Opportunities Do Exist

Beauty Within a Storm

Orders Worth Listening To

Boba Has a Crush (On Rex’s Boyfriend)

In Which Panic Ensues (Padme/Anakin, Rex/Anakin)

In Which All Bets Are Off (A Bridge one-shot to the piece above, for funsies)

What Dreams are Made Of

The Clones have It Right With @fiveshasarrived (NOT Complete)

In Sheep’s Clothing

Free-Spoken

Nothing is Ever Simple with a Skywalker

In Which Anakin Avoids Rex

Hidden Harmony

Cigarettes and Liquor Bottles

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Smut

Fives Times Rex Kissed Anakin (& one time anakin kissed him).

The Clone’s Blaster

Belonging

when the snow falls we will wrap ourselves in furs (Anakin/Clones)

The Thing

your mouth on mine, your body against me

Hundreds of Warriors [For Me] (Anakin/Clones)

I ache for the touch of your lips, dear

Good Men Follow Orders

When the Seperatist’s make a new bomb.

Priorities

afterglow (Obi-wan/Anakin, Anakin/Clones)

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Whump

i’ve lost the will to go on (please shine a light to guide me home)

A Pile of Anger

You Will Be Safe in My Tender Embrace

Splintered

Tom’urcir

Odd Comforts

Words That We Couldn’t Say

There Is No Slavery In The Galactic Republic

dying to fight, fighting to die (Padme/Anakin, One-sided Anakin/Rex)

you are absent of cause or excuse

Rex and Anakin Raise a Family (NOT Complete)

In Sickness and Health. But Especially Sickness

Liberation and Vows

Get me off this planet

Remembering one last time

I will come as soon as I can

War Changes What We Are Willing to Do

Learning the past to move forward

I could not protect you in the past, but I can in the future

waiting on the next storm

I’ll Carry You Home Tonight

The Sense of Me in Obstacles

Roll the Dice

Twin Blasters (Anakin/Padme/Rex)

you can’t win alone  (Anakin/Padme/Rex)

Of Rain, Tears, and Freedom

Of Secretes and Misunderstandings

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Miscellaneous

Calling in Reinforcements

Not a Jedi Be

There’ll Be A Light In The Hall If You Ever Come Back (NOT Complete)

The Elements of Falling in Love (While Your Parents Plan a Coup)

Shiny Rainbow Knife (Trans MTF Anakin, Anakin/Rex)

Aladdin rexwalker

When A Good Man Goes To War (rename of Fix-All Sith!Anakin AU)

Human Pleasure Droid (NOT Complete)

The Way to a Boy’s Heart is Through Violent Defensive Maneuvers

Marked from the First

I can’t go back and loose it all (Anakin/Rex/Padme)

Helping hand