#fine its fine his majesty would never do anything to hurt me without a reason!!!!!)

[yakkitylylac]

listening to Don't Wanna Lose You by Derivakat and . heeheehoo lurien

[omgrachwrites]

The Princess and The Duke - Chapter Twenty

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: As the Princess of Spain, you were always supposed to marry King James of England to make an alliance between Spain and England. When he marries a woman at his court for love, you are married off to his best friend, Sirius Black the Duke of Bedford to keep the alliance. However, the court is riddled with secrets and a rebel in the North starts to rise against the Throne. Royal AU.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, character death, tiny bit of fluff.

Words: 2671

Disclaimer: This gif doesn’t belong to me, and I’m sorry for the gif I used!

A/N: So here we are at the end! Thank you so much for supporting me with this fic and I'm sorry for this chapter, I kept James and Lily alive to make this part even more sad! This was actually going to end in such an angst filled way but I didn’t want to do that to you guys, though I might write the alternate ending at some point! Hope you guys all enjoy and please let me know what you think! I love you all! xxx

Chapter Twenty - Wherever You Are

Dread coiled in your stomach that fateful morning as you got yourself dressed and pinned your hair. Reggie was sleeping soundly, letting out little snuffles but still, you picked him up and nuzzled your nose into his fine dark hair as you felt the tears build up behind your eyes. You weren’t aware that you could possibly cry as much as you had done, there were little red rashes beneath your eyes where the salt from your tears had irritated your skin. Your heart seemed to be in a constant state of pain as your husband awaited his trial.

This trial should not be even happening, you were appalled at how James had arrested Sirius for treason, “we’ll be alright, little one,” you whispered to your baby boy, “papa isn’t a traitor, he’s a good man,” you pressed a kiss to Reggie’s little forehead.

James was originally going to hold Sirius’ trial the day after Halloween, but Lily had convinced him otherwise, Lily knew that you wanted nothing more than to be at Sirius’ side. So, the King relented and allowed a few days for you to recover after giving birth to Reggie. Unfortunately, it meant that Sirius would have to spend more time locked in the tower but you knew that Sirius understood.

“Y/N?” a soft warm voice came from the doorway and you looked over with blurred vision to see Andromeda who was smiling at you kindly, “I think the King and Queen are ready to start, I’ll look after the children, because they shouldn’t have to be subjected to such an event.”

You nodded with a sniffle as you placed Reggie into her open, waiting arms, “thank you so much. Are you not coming to the trial?” you muttered, feeling like a shell of yourself.

Andromeda shook her head with a sad smile, “I can’t watch that happen to him, I can’t. He’s not just my cousin, he’s my best friend. I’m so sorry that I can’t be there for you both; I know that he’s not the traitor, he would never betray us. Never. I don’t know what James is thinking having him arrested.”

“You are so amazing, Andromeda, we are so blessed to have you in our lives and we appreciate you so much,” you tried to smile but you feared that it came out as more of a grimace.

Andromeda leaned forward to kiss your cheek with a sweet sad smile, “whatever happens today, it’s been an honour to serve two people who are completely made for each other, two people who are soulmates. Good luck.”

You felt tears sliding down your cheeks, stinging at your sensitive skin, you adored Andromeda, you couldn’t have got by without her, “let’s just hope that the King sees sense and does the right thing. He must know that his best friend could never do this to him, he just wants someone to blame, he sees enemies where there are friends, and it’ll be his undoing,” you mumbled with a tight smile as you departed from your chambers.

You would never admit it out loud but you had a strange sense of foreboding, a horrible feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t help but feel that something was going to go dreadfully wrong.

As you made your way to the Throne Room where the trial was being held, you just couldn’t understand why on Earth James would believe that Sirius was a traitor. What had happened to make him believe that? Snape was already in the dungeons for committing treason. Under coercion, he had admitted that he had been working for Voldemort but apparently he had told him nothing of the prophecy. You supposed that he had to be lying, he just had to be. According to Lily, the evidence they had against Sirius was damning but it was a lie or a set up, it just had to be.

The atmosphere was heavy and full of dread as you walked into the Throne Room and Lily gave you a brave smile from where she stood at James’ side. James had a grim tight look on his face; the King that you had first met a few springs ago was kind and benevolent. That King was no more, it seemed like his heart had hardened.

Your heart broke when the guards roughly dragged Sirius into the room, showing him no mercy. The past few days that he’d spent in the Tower had seemed to age him considerably, his eyes were starting to take on a haunted look but they softened when he looked at you. You tried to offer him a small smile.

As Sirius was pushed to his knees before the King, James glared at him as he produced a letter, “you’ll remember writing this, I bet,” he snarled and began to read the letter out loud “’Lord Voldemort, in regards to my last letter, you will now know how to break Dumbledore’s enchantments. There are underground caverns and a secret entrance on the West side of the castle. They will lead you into the royal chambers and you can complete your work. Your faithful servant, Sirius Black, Duke of Bedford.”

James tossed the chilling letter at Sirius’ feet, “if it hadn’t been for Peter telling us of the conversation he overhead you having then we would be dead. We managed to prepare and we managed to defeat Voldemort when he came after us. We were supposed to be your friends, your sovereigns. How could you do this to us? How could you plot to kill our son?”

“But, I didn’t!” Sirius shouted, “I didn’t have a conversation of this nature with anybody! I didn’t write that letter, I wouldn’t!”

“Then how do you explain the fact that your seal is on the letter?!” James demanded.

You saw Sirius’ face falter for just a moment and you almost winced, hoping that James didn’t catch it, “my seal was stolen.”

“A likely story,” Remus spoke up, his voice breaking and he looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“Where is Peter? He’s lying to you! I saw him sneaking around the castle with a hooded figure!”

“Of course,” James mockingly slapped a hand to his forehead, “blaming the victim is the right thing to do, you’re just trying to save your own skin. Peter was found dead in the hallways, shortly after he came to warn us of your plan.”

You barely managed to conceal a gasp, Peter was dead? “I didn’t kill him,” Sirius whispered, “I was with my wife who was giving birth to our third child!” he glanced at you and you gave him an encouraging nod.

James looked at you before looking back at Sirius, narrowing his eyes, “the midwife says that you left a couple of hours after the birth, around the time that Peter was murdered, he was killed with your ruby encrusted dagger.”

Sirius swallowed nervously, “I lost that dagger shortly after coming back from our last battle with Voldemort,” that was the truth, you remembered Sirius lamenting after its loss. It was clear that someone was setting him up. Why didn’t James see that? “And the reason for my leaving? It was because I went to see if my twins were awake so they could meet their baby brother!”

“And on the way back, you saw an opportunity to kill Peter!” it was clear that James was hitting Sirius hard with the accusations in the hope that Sirius would confess.

“No!” Sirius took a deep breath, “you’re my best friend, you always have been and I would never do anything to hurt you or your family because you’re my family too, please, you have to believe me,” the tone of Sirius’ voice was pleading but James looked unmoved, which annoyed you.

“The evidence is damning, Sirius. It was your seal, your letter and your dagger, you had the means to kill Peter and betray us. What did you think would happen? Did you think Voldemort would put you on the Throne when he killed us?” James hissed but Sirius said nothing but you could see that he was crying you just wanted to hold him. James glanced over to you, “we found no evidence that Y/N was involved,” cold dread shot through your body and your vision blurred.

“She had nothing to do with any of this,” Sirius glanced at you with tear soaked cheeks and the small smile that he gave you broke your heart.

James nodded, offering you a sympathetic look, “then I’m sorry that you’re married to a traitor,” anger boiled in your veins at James’ words and it was an effort to keep your face straight. He glanced back at Sirius, “Sirius Black, I absolve you of your lands and titles; you are no longer the Duke of Bedford. I charge you with treason and I sentence you to hang by the neck until dead,” Lily gasped in surprise as she looked at her husband.

You felt like you were going to be sick and you rushed forwards to kneel at James’ feet, taking Sirius’ hand in yours, “please, Your Majesty, I beg you, don’t kill him! Think of the children, please,” tears streamed down your cheeks and Lily shot James a meaningful look.

James sighed and bowed his head, glaring at Sirius, “very well, you have an amazing wife who begs for your life even though you’re a traitor,” Sirius just looked at the floor and in that moment you hated James for hurting him. You couldn’t imagine how hard it was to endure this from his best friend, “you’re going to spend the rest of your life in a cell. Take him away,” he nodded to the guards.

You cried out in anguish as the guards began to drag your beautiful husband away. How were you going to live without him? “I love you, Sirius.”

Sirius choked on his tears, “I love you too, and please remember me!”

“Of course!” you sobbed.

You didn’t even get to kiss him one last time; you would never forgive James for breaking up your family. Sirius was innocent; you would bet your life on it.

-----------------

Over the next couple of years that Sirius spent in the Tower, he was full of despair and anger, he couldn’t quite believe that James had locked him away; he couldn’t understand why James hadn’t believed him. How could James think that Sirius could ever hurt his friends? What hurt the most was the fact that he couldn’t see the love of his life or his children, the pain was almost unbearable. He couldn’t even see the grounds from the tiny window in his cell so he couldn’t even catch the slightest glance of Y/N.

In that dank, dark cell Sirius was all alone, he was practically withering away. He wanted his wife and he wanted his children. Reggie had only been a couple of days old when Sirius had been thrown into the Tower, Reggie wouldn’t even remember him.

The guards were particularly cruel; they told Sirius everything that was happening at court. They had told him that the King was forcing Y/N to remarry so she wouldn’t bring shame upon England because she was the wife of a traitor. Sirius had been close to throwing up at this news and he died inside, the knowledge that someone else was going to love his wife killed him inside. A few weeks later, the guards grumbled as they told Sirius that the man that Y/N was supposed to marry had died in a hunting accident. It sounded awful but at the sound of that news, Sirius could breathe again.

10 Years Later

Sirius was rudely awakened by the guards pounding on the bars of his cell, their voices filled with glee, “oi! Wake up, you have some visitors,” Sirius groaned and walked over to the bars to see the guards leering faces, “best make it a good goodbye, you’ll never see your family again after today. Your pretty little wife is going to marry the Austrian Prince.”

The pain that shot through Sirius’ chest almost made his knees buckle and tears stung at his eyes, he backed away from the bars so his family could enter. The breath was stolen from his lungs when his family walked into the cell and the door was closed behind them. Y/N was so beautiful and his children were growing up, and he’d missed it all.

“Sirius!” Y/N cried out as she ran to him and Sirius gathered her up in his arms, after 12 years, she was in his arms again. Once more, she was breathing life back into him, “I’ve missed you so much I love you,” she sobbed into his chest before she cupped his face and drew him into a passionate kiss, her tears running over his lips.

“I missed you too, I missed all of you, I love you,” he pressed his forehead against hers, grinning for the first time in 12 years, it was a wonder that he still remembered how to, he looked at his beautiful children with a smile as Elena and Johnathan ran into his arms, their faces bright with recognition. Reggie smiled at him with a blank look on his face but there was love in his eyes, “look at you three, all grown up.”

“We wish you could have been there, father,” Reggie smiled before hesitantly walking towards him and pulling him into a hug. Sirius smiled as he hugged his son tightly, “it’s good to meet you,” Reggie whispered.

Sirius’ smile dropped a second later when he remembered why they were there, “you’re marrying a Prince? Congratulations.”

Y/N rolled her eyes with a giggle and she lowered her voice so the guards wouldn’t hear, “I am never going to marry another, Lily and James just thinks that I am. The Prince doesn’t want to marry me either, he prefers the company of men,” she blushed, “but he believes you’re innocent, he’s a good man.”

“He believes I’m innocent?” Sirius asked, feeling gobsmacked, he was also elated that Y/N wasn’t going to remarry.

“Yes, and he wants to help, we’re getting you out of here tonight, we’ve got a ship leaving the docks at midnight, the Prince will give us sanctuary in Austria.”

Sirius was excited to get out of here, to feel the sun on his skin again, breaking him out of his cell would be dangerous but he glad that Y/N had an ally, but there was something that bothered him, “you’re coming with me? I don’t want to ruin your lives.”

Johnathan sighed as he rolled his eyes, “come on father, we’re going wherever you do. We’re not letting you go alone.”

“But you’ll always be having to hide, that’s no life for you, any of you,” Sirius bit his lip; he wanted to believe that it was possible but it just wasn’t.

Elena took his hand, “papa,” she whispered, “we love you and we’re a family. We’ve been apart for 12 years; you’re insane if you think we’re not going with you. We want to know you and for you to know us.”

Sirius teared up and sniffled as he looked over at his wife who grinned and cupped his cheeks, “we’ll be here an hour before midnight, the guards won’t be a problem. Leave them to us, I love you.”

“I love you too,” he grinned and kissed Y/N deeply before hugging all of his children in turn, excited to be in the world again. The plan was set and at midnight, he was successfully on a ship with his family by his side and a strong ally at his back. This wasn’t how he thought his life was going to be, he never thought he would be running from James’ court but here he was. They were going to be okay. Sirius was free, they were all free, and most importantly, they were together.

-Fin-

-----------------

@smiithys ​ @elayneblack ​ @amelie-black @siriuslyjanhvi @pregnant-piggy ​ @lindatreb ​ @mabelle-cherie ​ @hxrgreeves ​ @britishspidey @mads-bri @classicrocketqueen @sxtansqueen @hufflepuffzutara @potters-heart @bruxa0007 ​ @ourstarsailor ​ @fific7 ​ @galwithbluethoughts ​ @2410slb @sunles @krismeunicornbaobei @theincredibledeadlyviper @deathkat657 @lonegryffindor2005 @writing-your-heart-out​

[mintvender]

UTOPIA [ 3 ]

Pairing: BTS x Y/N

Synopsis: Y/N L/N, the name of the current monarch of Corea. They became the ruler after successfully ending the previous king along with the dynasty as well. In their harem, countless men are present to help balance the court’s power. However, is this truly their intentions? The palace was always a place that needs to be proceeded with caution but as time goes by, recklessness would most likely outweigh it. You found yourself unable to prosper the kingdom without being too connected to it.

HaremAu!

Warning: None

Word Count: 4.1k

A/n: Finally finished part three of Utopia. Feedback are always welcome. Anyways, enjoy 🌿.

Masterlist

Focusing at the familiar sensation you were feeling on your back, you couldn’t help but let out a low groan. Satisfied with the pressure that is currently being applied, you obediently lay on the bed and let the magic occur. Combined that with the calming scent of lavender with a hint of rosemary, you couldn’t decipher whether or not if this was truly reality.

Continuing to let yourself sink into the mattress, you couldn’t help but be annoyed at the stare that you were getting.

“ A little harder on my shoulder blades?”

Feeling a heavier pressure applied to your tense shoulders, you could only sigh and not enjoy the entire experience because of a particular someone.

Despite you wanting to ignore it, luck was apparently not favouring you today. Well, you should have known that ignoring was never an option.

Hissing at a particular hard jab, you felt the pressure being lifted along with a line of apology. Little shuffles were then heard, until the person was standing a good distance away from you.

“ I… apologize?”

Scrunching your eyebrows at his tone, you were confused why he was using it. Turning your head around to meet his gaze, you offered him a curious look.

“ Do you need anything, Namjoon?”

At the mention of his name, Namjoon uncomfortably directs his gaze anywhere but you, obviously trying to avoid your questioning.

“ You seem weird today,” you commented, “ Do you perhaps have a fever?”

Quickly scanning his body, you tried to find out where the problem lies. Reaching your arm up to position it against his forehead, you tested his body temperature.

Seems normal.

While you were busy trying to come up with a potential reason, Namjoon could feel himself flushed in surprise. Stunned at what you were doing, he couldn’t help but stared at you, wide eyed.

Noticing how shocked he seemed, you removed your hand away, and chuckled.

Raising your left eyebrow, you teased, “ Why are you so stunned?”

Flinching at getting caught, Namjoon’s face continued to burn a crimson color.

“ I-I…”

Seeing how you manage to make the overly wise Namjoon speechless, you decided that it would be better to save your teasing for another day. After all, there are more important things to talk about as of now.

“ I trust that you will be more than capable of taking care of yourself,” turning around, you relax against the soft material, “ If you don’t, I don’t think that you have the ability to be by my side.”

Namjoon, a person who has been with you for years, is also a master in his own rights. Unlike Taehyung, Namjoon is well versed in the realm of medicine. Having memorized countless documents from ancient manuscripts to the most recent, Namjoon could be considered as a living medical dictionary.

With how long you have known each other, you know more than anyone how powerful Namjoon can become if he would put some effort in building his public relations. However, no one could ever be that perfect, every person has at least a flaw of their own.

“ … yes, your majesty.”

There it is again.

“ You don’t have to be so formal, Namjoon,” you reminded him, “ We, basically, have known each other for most of our lives.”

Not only has he learned many valuable information from the countless documents he had read, it had also somewhat affected his ability to be casual with others. Normally, it would only happen when he is with friends and whatnot, but never with you nor Taehyung. However, Namjoon seemed to become much more closed off the moment you guys took up your positions within the palace.

Maybe it was the difference in rank, but knowing Namjoon, he wouldn’t have cared so what’s the actual reason?

“ But, yo—“

You interrupted, “ No, I know what you are going to say… I don’t care if I am your current superior.”

Pushing yourself to your knees, you drowsily sit on the bed, still feeling the impact from earlier.

Sighing, you continued, “ Namjoon… before becoming the monarch, you were my friend first. You should know this better than anyone else, Namjoon… that our roots are intertwined.”

Hesitantly nodding at your word, Namjoon seemed to be more conflicted than before. You, this time however, waited for him to sort those feelings out himself.

The moment he called your name, you nodded and moved on, careful to not make him too uncomfortable.

Rubbing your back, you asked, “ My back is fine, right?”

“ Your back is fine. The soreness you are feeling is your body’s reaction to such an abrupt impact.”

Nodding at the reasonable answer, you reach your right hand over to your left shoulder and massage them, attempting to relieve your shoulders from its tense state.

“ Hwan is really big nowadays, she must’ve thought that she is still a puppy,” you said, finding how cute she is.

However, thinking back to earlier, your body couldn’t help but shudder at the feeling.

Groaning at the heavy weight on top of yourself, you tried to push them off but to no avail. Somewhat having an idea who this could be, you definitely have to handle it with care. If not, someone was going to be extremely mad at you.

Suddenly, you felt a chilling sensation on your left cheek, feeling a shiver wrack your body. Instinctively you brought your hand up to your cheek and wiped the substance off your skin. Wrinkling your face at the substance, you helplessly ruffled the big ball of fluff that was currently nibbling at your neck.

Purring at the feeling, it digs its head to the crevice of your neck and cuddles into you.

Normally, you would have also cuddled into the pile of fur if you were in a more private setting. However, with Taehyung screaming at someone, that scenario seemed far too out of reach, especially with you being stuck under a portable comforter.

Unable to contain your exhaustion, you let out a sigh, wondering why no one was helping you.

Am I really that cuddly? Why does everyone have to hug me today?

You flapped your arms around, silently gesturing for help which was thankfully answered by General Kim’s assistance. Lifting up the large body off you, he also assisted you on your way back to your feet.

Feeling painful pricks continuously nib at your feet, you waited for some moments to get blood to travel back to your asleep lower body.

Patting your attire to get rid of any dirty particles, you looked over to the pile of fur that was now hiding behind a certain person. You would have deceived yourself for its pitiful form if you didn’t see its excited eyes, piercing at you.

Looking up, you met the new arrival’s eyes who was awkwardly rubbing his neck, silently apologizing for his dog’s actions.

“ You should have put her on a leash!”

Taehyung, who had seemed to fully restore all his energy, was full on ranting at the person situated opposite of you, who was now pouting because of the lecture. He then looked over to you, silently sending another apology in the stead of his dog.

“ You don’t have to go that far, Tae,” you reassured him, “ Besides, Hwan didn’t hurt me. I was just taken by surprise by the abrupt greeting.”

Clapping your hands, you looked over to Hwan and signaled her to come over. While waiting for her to enter your arms, you shot Tae a soothing look, hoping to ease him up. As expected, Taehyung could only helplessly sigh and stop his ranting.

Watching your interaction with Hwan, Taehyung couldn’t help but pout. However, that was dismissed by all of you.

After having your share of exercising with Hwan, you look up and smile at the male who was proudly admiring you and Hwan the entirety of your little playtime.

Picking yourself up from your kneeled position, you walked over to the group with Hwan happily following your steps.

“ How have you been, Hoseok?” You greeted.

Smiling in return, Hoseok replied, “ I have been doing well, you’re majesty.”

Happy that he was doing alright, you threw a stick in the opposite direction, waiting for Hwan to go and retrieve it.

“ That’s good to hear. After all the mishaps within the palace, at least someone is doing well.”

“ I’m hoping that I’m not the only one,” Hoseok chuckled at your response, “ How have you been doing, your majesty?”

“ I—“

“ You definitely aren’t the only one doing well.” Taehyung interrupted, “Besides, I am sure that Y/N is doing quite well.”

Not knowing what to do, you could only shut your mouth, and tried your best to give a natural smile.

Immediately after, the atmosphere became a little too awkward for your liking.

Shooting Taehyung a glare, you silently warned him of his actions. However, not only did Taehyung not look apologetic, he even did a little ‘hmph’ to prove his point.

Lucky for you, with Hwan rushing back to the group, placing the stick in front of you, dispersing the tense atmosphere was much more achievable.

“ I’m doing fine, Hoseok,” directing your gaze to meet Hwan’s, “ Hwan is getting so big.”

As if waiting for the particular comment, Hoseok happily nodded, reaching his hand over to pet Hwan.

“ She indeed is,” Hoseok smiled, “ Though, she seemed to be a little puppy yesterday to me.”

Noticing how fond Hoseok is towards Hwan, you silently coo at how closed they were. However, that was cut short once again by the one and only Royal Consort.

“ That dog’s too big, it might even endanger your majesty’s life with its weight,” Taehyung interjected, “ Yeontan is much better.”

Normally, you would have dismissed the comparison if it was between the two of you. However, with Hoseok being here, you cannot just let him act whatever way he wants to. You knew that Taehyung did not fully intend to insult Hwan, but it was enough to offend Hoseok.

Even after your initial warning, he still decided to disobey your words.

Looks like I spoiled him too much.

Instead of repeating your previous reaction, you decided to ignore the male next to you and instead focus on who's opposite of you.

Seeing how awkward things have been, General Kim decided to intervene in an attempt to lift the tension.

“ May this servant ask the Noble Consort the reason for you being here?”

Previously nervously glancing at the bush nearby, Hoseok perked up at his title and smiled in return.

“ Originally, I did not plan to go out today,” Hoseok explained, “ However, this little rascal hasn't quiet down since last night. As a result, I figured to get some exercise while at it.”

Nodding at his response, an idea suddenly came, whooshing into General Kim’s mind.

“ If you do not mind my suggestion, your majesty,” General Kim looked over to you, “ Since the Royal Consort is training his physical body, if we were to have another person join, he would have a partner to practice with.”

Curious at what he was hinting, you urged him to elaborate.

“ To be more specific, I think that the Noble Consort would be the perfect candidate.”

Looking between the two, you contemplated at the suggestion.

Hoseok was quite agile by just how he carried himself. His moves also seemed quite sharp but with him wearing a hanbok, you can’t really figure out if it was true or not.

While you were busy thinking about the possibility, the mentioned couple were glancing at each other, too shocked to say anything. However, before Taehyung could even think about denying it, you beat him to his own game by fiercely glaring at him. Making direct eye contact with you, Taehyung couldn’t help but cowered slightly, unable to utter a witty comment. Looks like your little tiger has lost once again.

Smiling in triumph, you couldn’t help but puff your shoulders slightly, proud of winning your guys’ little game.

“ Hoseok, what do you think?,” you asked, “ Would you mind being Taehyung’s partner?”

Looking at Hoseok, you can immediately sense his nervousness and hesitation at your offer.

If you were being truthful, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have Hoseok accompany Taehyung. However, you weren’t a pushover, you wouldn’t force Hoseok to so something he doesn’t want to. Though, you still hope he accepts your offer.

“... I would be more than happy to do so,” Hoseok said, “ However, would the Royal Consort not mind my presence?”

“ Of co—“

Before Taehyung could reject the idea, you interrupted, “ No, Taehyung definitely would not mine. Am I correct, Taehyung?”

Shivering at your tone, Taehyung immediately nodded.

Satisfied with his response, you happily entrust Taehyung’s training to General Kim and Hoseok.

“ Then I’ll entrust Taehyung to the both of you,” you said.

“ Of course, your majesty.”

“ … Yes, your majesty.”

At the tone of Hoseok’s tone, you were reminded of a certain etiquette used specifically within the palace.

Pretending to be oblivious to his tone, you looked at him, confused.

“ Do… you perhaps need anything, Hoseok?”

Hoseok, realizing that he got caught red-headed, could only sheepishly nod his head.

As expected, you had to fulfill a request of his for the time he would spend with Taehyung.

Although the palace could sometimes be considered to be quite mysterious, whenever it comes to favour, there is no grey space, only black and white. If you have asked a person for a favour, expect that person to do exactly the same to you when they need it. That’s the basic rules that all need to understand when entering the palace.

If not, it’s easier to die than to live within the palace walls.

Knowing this, you had to grant Hoseok one of his requests. Though, until now, you could tell that he is not a malicious person, but it’s better to be extra cautious now that you are always the center of attention.

“ Tell me.”

Not meeting your gaze, your mind immediately branches out to various possibilities.

Maybe he wants me to get him something? Or maybe to grant Minister Jung an audience with me… Maybe he … wants a divorce.

Somehow, your heart unexpectedly tightens at the thought of Hoseok leaving. With just a few months of knowing him, you have grown quite fond of his bright personality. However, your expression still remains composed as you wait for Hoseok’s reply.

“ I would like to go outside.”

“ Hmm?”

Surprised, no shocked at his utterly humble request, you couldn’t help but let out a confused expression. You understand that this man is not like others but how is he so innocent to ask for such a thing?

Seeing your unresponsive state, Hoseok couldn’t help but be uncertain at his request, thinking that it might be too much. As a consort who serves the monarch, he technically can’t have any public relations outside of the palace so he understood that his request was quite absurd. However, he had seen the Royal Consort leave the palace a few times so he figured that it would be alright, but does have to ask for your permission first.

“ You want to go outside?”

Directing his gaze to the voice’s direction, he nodded, confirming Taehyung’s question.

“ Hoseok… you do know that you could go out whenever you want right?” You asked, “ Or was there any misunderstanding that I have yet to catch on to?”

Immediately shaking his head in response to your question, “ No, you did say that but I figured that it was only … out of politeness... I’m sorry.”

You gently waved your hand, dismissing his apologies, “ No it’s fine. If you want to go outside, then go ahead. I don’t restrict people from those types of things.”

Hoseok happily yet hesitantly nodded and thanked you. Somehow, the way you had phrased that particular sentence sounded quite off to him. However, Hoseok ignored it and thanked you for your kindness.

Nodding at his response, it seemed like the perfect time to end the conversation. And with that you went back to caressing Hwan’s soft fur.

Unfortunately, that memory was cut shorter and more abruptly than you would have liked to admit.

“ Y/N? Are you listening to me?”

Flinching at the mention of your name, you were snapped back to reality with Namjoon yelling your name.

“ I apologized. What were you saying?”

Knowing how your mind tends to drift away whenever you just experienced a dramatic scene, all Namjoon could do was helplessly sigh and restart.

“ It’s alright,” he said, turning back to what he was doing, “ This is a combination of lavender and chamomile which would help relax your nervous and digestive system.”

After he had finished combining the two scents, Namjoon makes his way to the chair nearby, settling down on it. Picking up the book on the little table nearby, he gently flipped through the pages to where he previously was.

On the other hand, you have once again lie down on the mattress, your muscles silently aching at every movement you do. Ignoring the pained feeling, you take a moment to inhale the air within the room, noticing how the fragrance was indeed different from the previous one and slowly relaxes your body.

“ You know what Hoseok asked me today in return for being Taehyung’s partner?”

“ The Noble Consort?” Namjoon questioned.

“ Mhm… he asked me to allow him to go outside.”

In response to your comment, Namjoon hummed in interest while still focused on the content of the book.

“ Hoseok, that child, sometimes reminds me of Taehyung,” you said, “ Although they have similar personalities, each of them still shine in their own way. While Taehyung is bubbly and cheeky, Hoseok is … quite innocent when you get close to him.”

“ Innocent and a child? The Noble Consort is only a year younger than you,” Namjoon replied, “ More than that, he is turning twenty-three this year.”

Rolling your eyes at his sarcastic response, you continued to breathe in the calming scent, continuing to feel your body relaxing.

Now that he mentioned that, most of the people that are within your inner circle are quite similar to you in age, with the exception of a few. Maybe it’s because all of you are so young that you guys have bonded through your high ambitions. However, even if they were to be in your age group, they still have to have similar roots as you.

So how did these people manage to befriend me when it has only been 3 months?

Deciding to dismiss the question and postpone to another day, you answered, “ I understand that Hoseok is the same age as you and is an adult. However, the way he carries himself just reminds me of a curious child, especially whenever we talk in depth about a particular subject.”

No, more like a curious child who has been deprived of the most basic education about the way of life.

Somehow, Namjoon found himself nodding in agreement with your observation.

“ Also, with how often he smiles, and so brightly even, just proves the point of how much innocence he has,” you added.

Sometimes, you envy how positive Hoseok is in any situation. Just having a genuine smile in a tense situation can brighten the entire room up. However, not many can be as positive as that.

“ He might seem innocent to you but why would a noble, who has spent his entire existence bathing in riches would suddenly go out to the dirty streets?”

Thinking about what Namjoon just said, it really truly doesn’t make sense. Hoseok, who can have all the things he wants in the world yet still remains to be so innocent and humble. How unbelievable it sounds.

Is this really the real him?

“ I’ll send someone to investigate him further,” you said, sitting up, “ They found almost nothing suspicious about him during the first round of inspection. Maybe, he is hiding something much deeper…”

“... or is working as a spy for Minister Jung within the harem.”

You nodded, expression sharpened at the possible thought. It was a possibility that you have already thought of but ultimately dismissed it after the initial investigation. However, it seems like you should be diving deeper, much deeper. In any case, preventing the worst possible outcome should always be the top priority.

Though, I hope that my intuition is right about you, Hoseok.

“ Be careful, Y/n.” Namjoon warned, “ You never know what or who is involved.”

Silently thanking him, you make your way out of the comfort of your bed and begin walking towards Namjoon.

“ Jungkook.”

At the mention of his name, Jungkook quickly opened the door and entered.

“ Yes, your majesty.”

“ Go and invite Taehyung to come over,” you ordered, “ Quickly.”

Immediately after, Jungkook then greeted you and ran out the door, feeling the need to hurry and bring the Royal Consort back with how urgent you seem.

Knowing this was not the time to question your words, Jungkook focused fully on bringing back the Royal Consort as soon as possible.

Meanwhile, you settled on the seat positioned around the center table, waiting for Taehyung.

After what seemed like quarter of an hour, your chamber doors finally opened.

Normally, you would have waited for Taehyung to even out his breath, but with the possibility of a rat within the harem, there was no time for that.

People might say that you are being too abrupt but with personal experience, how could you repeat the same mistake?

Waving your hand to dismiss Jungkook, “ You can leave, Jungkook. We’ll be fine.”

Nodding at your words, Jungkook then exited the room, knowing to leave your courtyard fully.

You gestured for Taehyung to settle on your right side while Namjoon took the seat left of you.

“ Taehyung, I apologized for suddenly calling y—”

Feeling a light gust of wind entering the closed space, you stopped yourself from saying anything further, “ Looks like we have another guest.”

Quickly standing up from your spot, you quietly make your way towards the shelve on the left side of the room, and grab your sword, that was proudly displayed on the main compartment.

Blazefury, a bonguk geom made especially for you by one of the most skilled blacksmith in the nation, maybe even wider than that.

The single-edge sword was quite long, making it much easier to injure the enemy at a greater distance. Like any other sword, the blade itself is quite sharp. With how much time you put into taking care of your sword, the blade still reflects whatever is put in front of it. The handle of the sword is a deep red, while a scarlet tassel is attached at the hilt, contrasting with the silver metal of the blade.

To say the absolute least, you couldn’t be any more honoured to have this sword within your possession. After all, the sword is a masterpiece on its own, even without having to say who brought this sword to life.

Unsheathing the sword from its leather scabbard, you pointed it towards the window opposite of you.

Smilingly, you slowly close the space between you and whoever was behind the thin windows.

Though, you do find it weird that the person is not moving even after finding out that they have been caught.

How could they be so careless to hide behind a window composed of mostly paper? To spy on me? No, there are other ways. Maybe they just want to finish me?

When you are finally in front of the window, placing your left hand against the window, feeling the rough paper on your fingertips. Gently tracing the outline of the frames, you wickedly lengthen the moment much to other’s displeasure.

To you, however, it truly doesn’t matter if you were to open the window now or later. After all, even if they want to escape, it would be too late to even move a meter.

The only thing that would make you hesitate is if the person would call for backup. You would be able to handle them all, but with Taehyung and Namjoon here, both yet to master any type of martial arts except for the most basic defence exercises. Looks like you have to prepare for the absolute worst.

Finally gathering force to your left hand, you forcefully open the window, purposely creating a large bang.

However, before you could even register what was about to come, the person in front of you dropped their weapon, silently surrendering.

While you on the other hand felt your smile getting wider, eyes sparkling in interest.

“ What are you doing here, Panther?”

Definition:

Bonguk geom - a type of sword or sword skill. It is said that the phrase ‘bonguk geom’ originated from the Hwarang of the Silla dynasty. As a result, it could even be called as Silla Sword or Singeom. Bonguk geom literally means ‘national sword.’ The appearance of it is quite similar to a katana ( I believe it is the sword used in Yoongi’s track, Daechwita but please correct me if I am wrong).

Copyright © 2021 MintVender

All rights reserved.

[shadowdianne]

Shattered [SQ one shot -I guess xd]

For you, @waknatious because we both knew all too well what would happen when you send me that post Xd I’ve cut out the angst significatively though, I would call this hurt/comfort at best. And you are one of the very few that may make me write something for these two again, sparingly, very sparingly so… Love you, always.

Lu.

Based on 6x08 I’ll be your mirror.

General reminder that I’ve done very basic editing on this one. I will maybe go back and change some things but who knows.

-.-

Her tongue felt like sandpaper when she woke up, her brain pulsing with a head-splitting migraine and Regina needed to blink a few times as she felt the touch of gravel against her face and exposed hands and forearms, her right hand still holding to a body that began to stir almost at the same time as she. She could feel nausea beginning to crawl up her throat and she did her best to swallow as she blinked twice, thrice, as she heard a shriek at her side, her own voice ricocheting against her ears as the Queen took a look at her surroundings.

In all fairness, she thought, her body tense, she hadn’t had that much time to think about what she was about to do. Her arms had moved in autopilot, calling forth every single piece of her that hadn’t been siphoned out of her back when she had split herself. When the dragon had hit the mirror, she had felt the magic calling forth from the other side of it. Emma, always reacting Emma, had probably merely answered instinctively to it, letting her own magic act like a magnet to it. She, however, had stood her ground, knowing that her other self would reach for the now hotter-than-lava glass and so when Emma had been expulsed from the world behind the mirrors, she had reached outwards, grabbing The Queen’s by the hand, and pushing them both backward, wishing the portal to close at the majesty’s back. The magic, the little sniff she had gotten from the outside world, had thankfully answered her call.

“What have you done?” The Queen’s eyes were bloodshot, her usual demeanor broken like the mirror shards that covered the wall where the mirror had been propped against, the one she -no, not she, her, not her, them- had spent so many hours prying through. With a snarl, the Queen turned to the now broken glass and frame, maybe hoping to find a piece that still showed the interior of the vault. None of them, however, showed anything beyond the clouded sky that had covered every single reflective surface ever since Regina had been there.

Chuckling, mirthless, Regina stood as well, ironing her clothes in one movement, her hands getting trapped for a moment on the small, scorched holes on the back of her blazer. The dragon seemed to be gone, perhaps suffused out like Emma had gone, returned, mayhap to the safety of his shop. That didn’t sit exactly well with the brunette, but she resolved to focus on the matter at hand; the irate Queen.

Who, now, turned towards her once more and grabbed her by the shoulders, knuckles white, seething.

“I’ve trapped you,” Regina replied, freeing herself with one quick move. She might not have her magic, but there were a few pros on being fighting with herself; knowing the extent of her own strength was one of them. “You were right, at the shore, everything I’ve dreamed, you have dreamt it. So, I thought a little surprise was in order.”

She wasn’t lying, not entirely. After all, she had seen the opportunity when the dragon had hit the mirror, but she hadn’t had any promise that the idea would work. For everything she knew, the magic could have thrown them away all the same, the imperfections the mirror had created in the fabric that kept the world beyond the glass together fragmented beyond any kind of repair. But one wasn’t at Emma’s side all this time without picking a thing or two and improvising, while wasn’t her preferable course of action, was one of those things.

The Queen, however, was having none of it, and she moved closer to her once more, her heels crunching the glass and the gravel, the tower they had been moaning perilously as she did, as if her anger could reach to the still erected beams and destroy everything at once.

“And so.” The other woman said, eyes narrowed, lips turned into a fine line, a rictus so similar to her mother’s that Regina froze for a second, a moment, anxiety seizing her muscles. The queen seemed unaware, or at least not preoccupied about it and so she kept on talking with badly disguised anger. “You thought that pushing us both here, trapping us, was the way to go?”

It was Regina’s turn to snarl, her hands at her hips as she kept a healthy distance between herself and, well, herself.

“Anything to keep you contained. I am not going to sit idle while you try…” She pointed at the shattered mirror, where Henry’s face had been, so close, yet unattainable. “Whatever you planned on doing with my son.”

The Queen blinked, momentarily stunned only to start laughing, cackling, really, as her eyes returned to the cold hatred Regina was so familiar with for she had been the one giving similar glances back when the two of them had been together.

“I was giving him a choice.” The Queen replied as the laughter ebbed away from the two of them, cascading down the dilapidated ruins around them both. “Something you have not been able to give you him.” She was looking down on her now, her face maybe covered in some residual dirt and yet managing to look every bit of the Queen she had once considered herself. Regina bit back a reply, chest forward, fingers curling as she wished for her magic to be within her reach if only for a moment. Nothing, however, came to the movement and The Queen’s lips curled as she focused on Regina’s movement, eyes turning into slits. “You are pathetic. Weak. If I could kill you I would do so in a heartbeat. You can’t expect to be his mother, you are not strong enough.”

Regina tried her best to let the words wash over her, harmless, but she still felt the distant pang of the words she sometimes said to herself while trying to fall asleep. She had been so sure, back in New York, that her choice was the right one. She missed those moments in where regret was framed by very small significant moments, a barely-there sentiment that she could push away as she kept on doing with the Queen’s voice on her head. Ever since the split, however, doubts and corrosion clouded her judgment, her own actions. The Dragon had been right, despite how much it pained her to admit it: the battle should have been kept inside herself rather than trying to externalize it as she had done. Because now she was nothing but the other side of a coin; one that had lost part of its vindictiveness, of her strength.

She hadn’t voiced it aloud, of course, with everything happening at once there was truly no moment to admit she felt her own connection to her magic different, changed. What was she going to do, she often wondered while trying to sleep, while reaching for sleep and numbness, if Emma did indeed die? What would she do if she was left alone, to take care of a Henry that would be devastated? Would he blame her for the death of his mother? Would everything she had built turn into ashes yet again?

The Queen tilted her head, sensing how her words had, indeed, touched her, and Regina cursed inwardly for every bit of her that belonged to the woman in front of her.

“What I was doing.” The Queen said, the triumph of the one knowing themselves right echoing on her tone. “Was trying to make him worthy, worthy of the title that will be his, worthy of a name and a position that you, for whatever reason, seemed to be refusing to take. I had to clean up your mess, Regina. Again.”

There was a maniac glint on the Queen’s eyes as she said this, the world around them silent, still, in an almost halted breath as she took another step towards Regina.

Regina recoiled. She had never considered how much of her own mother she had channeled when turning into the Queen, when the title and the façade had melded into one single person, the one now left behind the woman she could have been under very different circumstances. She, now, could see it; the burning devotion, the need, toxic, like gas, that spread around her her own intent for control. She could see it now, however, once more, and she felt stripped away of her strength as she faced her own face, so sure of how pain was the only path to take, the only debt that needed any kind of retribution.

“You are the one on the wrong.” She replied, but her answer felt weak even to her own ears. Doubling down, she pointed at the now broken mirror a few paces away, her muscles protesting as the headache doubled its efforts to blind her. “I managed to get you here, Queenie. Remember that. For every time you thought you had the upper hand…”

The other one interrupted her, scoffing dismissively towards her as she did so.

“This is one last attempt to stop me. Giving that you enchanted the mirror in the first place the spell will soon be dispelled. You cannot do anything right; you are nothing but a lesser part of me, one that thought she had access to feelings, memories, a life. You are a shadow, not the other way around, Regina.”

The headache grew in intensity and Regina could feel the anger beginning to boil inside her her, hotter than before. Muscles tensing, she was the one who took a step forward now, the set of rubble at her feet sliding for a second before they settled themselves once more. The sky above them, the intermittent set of clouds and starred glow, seemed to grow darker as she moved closer to the other woman.

“You live because I decided to take a potion, you wouldn’t otherwise. And as I tried once, as I did once, I will reach inside my chest and rip our heart even if it’s the last thing I do.”

The Queen laughed once more, not fazed by the words. Regina’s whole body felt aflame, the usual way in where she dispelled her anger, in how she channeled her fury, cut away from her but her fingers kept on twitching, calling forth magic she didn’t feel, knew it wasn’t there. If only she could, she thought as she stood, as the world around them kept returning to glittering mirrors, reach once, follow the words with actions…

She had made a promise, she thought with a start, Emma’s face appearing on her mind’s eye, the way the blonde’s eyes had clung to hers as the dragon roared above their heads, returning to her. The blonde had looked pale, tired, like she always looked lately, devoid of any fight herself as if already preparing herself for a funeral that wasn’t still written. And Regina, couldn’t wouldn’t really blame her. Even if with every comment, every dejected admission of how Emma didn’t see herself alive for much longer, made her want to grab the blonde woman by her shoulders and ask her why she seemed so intent on thinking there wasn’t any other way for her to survive. Why she seemed so convinced that Regina would destroy and maim and do whatever it needed to be done in order to prevent such. But, even if the Queen might have replied, Regina, the one she was, currently, never quite did that, far too many times biting her tongue and looking away as the blonde kept on glancing at the world around her as if nothing but sand compose every single thing she touched. Sand about to disappear between her fingers.

And yet, she had made a promise; “You're not sacrificing yourself, and neither am I.” One she had broken almost as quickly. But one that would keep Emma, stubborn Emma, trying to find a way to her. Because no matter what, she knew the green-eyed woman enough to know that despite everything, the blonde would actually try her damnest to retrieve her. If only to tell her how she dared. “You’ve taken this too far.” She would say to her, with fewer words, maybe, and a lot more anger. But that was the way with them both after all.

And despite how she had been the one pushing both sides of herself inside this realm, this world, she almost wanted to laugh bitterly at it; she had seen the blonde push her away from a vortex only to swallow down the darkness that threatened to take her. So, if she kept on standing, even for a moment longer, maybe a portal would be opened, maybe magic would pour inside, maybe she would be returned to her full abilities for only being able to actually pluck her heart out, finish a job that she felt was long overdue.

The only thing she needed to do was to keep on searching, keep on waiting, and study the surroundings, trying to find the mirror that would, indeed, do the trick.

The Queen had kept on talking, her voice a shrill that made its way into Regina’s ear.

“You wouldn’t dare to kill me, Regina, since I am the one that has kept you alive for so long. Or do you think mother would have kept you around after she returned from the Enchanted Forest if it wasn’t for what she saw on me? Do you truly believe that it was you who told Peter Pan that you had no remorse? Do you think, even for a second, that it was me the pathetic one, trying to get ahold of a love that seemed to be prophesized by some fairy dust? You are the one who hurt us, who kept trying to find solutions for a problem that did not even exist; I was the one reigning, I was the one that should be in control.”

Regina blinked, the ire on the other one’s words making her voice louder, almost a scream as it was now the one whose fingers twitched as if waiting for a fireball that didn’t manifest.

The movement of her eyes made them fall into the spread glass pieces around them, most of them from the mirror at her vault but others larger in shape and size. The original one they had been trying to mend. The one Sidney had been trying to use.

Maybe…

“I hurt you?” She said, moving to her left even a fraction in order to see if her suspicions were right. It was only a couple of shards, her mind told her, not enough to create the mirror, certainly not enough to escape. But if the glass was powerful enough she maybe could see where it would have directed her if they had been able to repair it.  “Tragic. Last time I checked I wasn’t the one trying to hurt my son.”

That got a reaction, enough of anger directed at her rather than at her movement for Regina to position herself next to the shard. It was clouded, like every other piece, but they were close enough to the smashed one. Maybe, with any luck, there would be enough residual power for it to react if she touched it.

“You can’t expect me to apologize.” The Queen replied, raising her hands with an almost smirk curling her lips. “Not when you are a coward who refuses, again and again, to reach for what should be ours.”

That made Regina stop, a second, two, the tone had changed there, minutely, and she eyed the other brunette with renewed anger.

“Don’t.” She warned; she knew the tone all too well, knew what it would preface, and she didn’t intend to have the conversation with herself, not like this.

But The Queen sensed the blood in the water, and, like a shark, she lunged.

“Don’t? Don’t say anything? Like the million times, you have stopped yourself in a pathetic try at honor that is so risible you made every piece of me crawl?” The Queen seemed about to attack now, muscles seizing beneath her clothes, and Regina prepared herself as she bent her knees; she knew that she herself wasn’t above a physical fight if there was no other option after all, and she needed to get the shard before the Queen realized what she was doing. “You could have everything you want if you only would let me take control. You could have her, as stupid that notion is. But no, it was always better to keep being honorable, being good.”

That made Regina bare her teeth.

“What do you want me to say?” She didn’t wait for an answer, though, she truly didn’t want to listen to it. Moving down, she grabbed the piece of glass, hard enough for her skin to be pierced by one side of it while wishing for the magic to reply.

The answer, however, did come, not from the Queen, however, but from inside herself.

“That you love her. That if you were selfish enough you would tell her, you would have her. That you would keep her safe, and alive.”

It didn’t matter, of course, the moment The Queen saw what she had grabbed, realized what she was doing, any kind of physical answer was ripped out from her lips, transformed into a growl deep enough to wake every slumbering heart inside her vault. Moving towards her, The Queen reached for the glass, the one that was indeed showing pieces of what seemed to be the woods, vines, crystals colored by moonlight, tall trees surrounding a clearing.

Regina didn’t have the time to realize what the glass was showing because the Queen’s hands grabbed her by the wrists and pushed her down as the rubble moved once more, trembling, and cascading down one of the many cracks the dragon had created with its breath. She felt her feet slip as The Queen grabbed the shard as well, both of their blood trickling now from the shard as they fell through the rock.

Down, down, down.

-.-

It was always interesting to see how their little town felt almost circular on the way magic run through it. Curses were dispelled and created almost as easily as difficult they should have been, death and life following each other in a perpetual circle. Emma wasn’t one to dwell on such things, she quite rather preferred to react to things, act if needed to. Anything else, anything that would make her stop and think even more about what surrounded her, made her anxious enough to wish for a way to disappear enough for everything to fall into ruin, and despite everything, she kept on choosing to stay.

Family was always and always had been a fickle, complicated, difficult term for her. She rather wanted to keep what she had created and found. Even if that in itself made her throat seize and close whenever she thought twice on the realness and proximity of her death.

She had said it to Aladdin herself after all; she had indeed tried to escape once. Or twice. But who was counting?

Her knee bounced as she kept on checking her watch and phone, the incessant beep on the room keeping everything, from the white corners, the hospital bed, the bright lights, that surrounded her a stark reminder of how she now couldn’t do anything but wait and sit still.

The moment she had crossed the glass she had turned, grabbing for Henry a second too quick to realize what had happened. The boy had melted into her hug, and she could very well picture him a tad younger, hugging her, close strong enough to almost hurt. She had, as she always did, imagined how many hugs she would miss from then on, but she had pushed through the thought, turning to her side where she expected for Regina to be, hugging just as tightly. The place, however, had been vacant and when she regained enough of her senses to focus on something beyond the boy, she had seen that they both were the only ones on the vault, the mirror broken in pieces and no Regina nor The Queen in sight.

“No!” She had whispered, turning towards where the anvil had been, about to smash it to pieces if needed. Henry had blinked and turned as well; his jaw set in such a mirror image of his other mother that it made Emma bit down her lip. “She didn’t cross.” She had muttered them, for the boy to shake his head and point where a few pieces of glass had been ripped away from the left side of the mirror’s frame. “She grabbed her; she made her fall to her.”

Emma had blinked then, anger rising inside of her, ozone filling the air as her magic returned in full force to her, dirty white clouding her pupils for a moment.

“I told her” She had said, still eyeing the mirror, as if expecting Regina to appear behind it. “I told her that the deal was to none of us needed to sacrifice themselves.”

At the end, they had tried just about everything they could do and when Hook had appeared, hook blazing “I thought the place for her Majesty to be would be the vault, that’s why I came.” He had made her leave the vault. Which she had done not after grabbing a shard of glass and keep it, resolved to find a way to get to Regina.

They had gone to Rumple, even, the man far too preoccupied with Belle and the Sorcerer’s wand to truly give them any more information. But they were short on magic users and Emma had insisted, arguing with Hook when the man had tried to placate her. She needed to return Regina to Storybrooke, she had said with gritted teeth and magic spilling out of her in thick blobs of ire and despair. No matter who she talked to.

“You can’t save them.” Rumple had said, however, eyes focused on the spun gold he had hexed, and Emma had wished to be able to be quick enough to punch the man before his own magic guards reacted to her. “It was already a miracle the mirror at her vault reacted to you alone and that was majorly because the Queen was on this side. She merely tapped onto Regina’s magic. But you can’t, not from here.”

She had stormed out of the shop, going back to her place only to stare at Snow as the woman told her that they were indeed going to liberate Regina, but they would need time.

“I don’t have time.” She had replied, fiercely, and pretended not to see the looks both Hook and her mother gave to each other. Henry had nodded just as fiercely, still on the clothes of the dance he had been supposed to go and Emma felt pain as she thought on how proud Regina had looked when staring at him, how worried she had been for his safety. She had admitted she didn’t know how to raise him but, honestly, as she watched him, she realized they had indeed done a good job, Regina had, indeed, do a good job. And she was planning on telling her that herself. “I don’t have the time, mom, to wait. And Regina doesn’t deserve to be kept on waiting with,- with her! Have you forgotten what she has done, already? What she has given away for us? They, you! All saw what she did when I thought my mind was too far gone, clouded by darkness. She kept on believing I could dial back, turn back. I’m not going to leave her just because it is not the best moment to find her. I will do it even if I need to reenact a curse myself.”

She had felt breathless after her speech, realizing with a numb afterthought that it had been a while since she had talked for so long without being interrupted. She had squared her shoulders and turned back, despite the pain of seeing her parents like they were she couldn’t keep still, idle, she refused so. She pretended not to listen to Hook as the man called for her and with Henry in tow, she closed the door of the apartment with a swish of her own magic, her boots heavy on the floor as she walked out.

It had been then when she had felt a blip, a distant call of a magic that felt mauve and purple and had a distinct scent, and her mind, her own magic, reacted to it as it exploded just behind her eyelids.

She had found both Regina and The Queen at the clearing where they had left the Glass coffin, its frame destroyed as parts of what it had been surrounding the two brunettes who were still holding a piece of it with bloody hands and wrists. They had been unconscious, eyes closed, and for a moment, a far too long one, Emma had feared the worst.

They still had a pulse, however, and when she had knelt next to Regina, very little had mattered the verdigris staining her clothes as she tried to see if her heart was still beating. The brunette had a gnash on her forehead and was far too pale for Emma’s liking. She had instructed for Henry to call an ambulance, his eyes panicked, his own blazer quickly turning into a short blanket over Regina’s form as they waited for the medics to arrive, a quick array of questions and answers being thrown into anyone who would listen to her and then, later, after getting a phone from one of the medics that had brought both Regina and The Queen, to her father as her mother had kissed him awake a few minutes prior.

And so, now, she waited. Still. Unable to do anything but wait.

The Queen was now being watched by her father and a reluctant Hook. When he had tried to follow her to Regina’s room she had stood her ground on wishing to be alone. Regina had gotten out, the man had told her, pointing to the sleeping form of the brunette. Yes, she had, Emma had replied, but she had been unable to tell him that part of the anger that still burned within her came from the fact that she had been factually unable to help her; Regina had gotten out by a mix of luck and magical practicality, a loophole within a loophole created by her blood and the Queen’s on the shard of the mirror that had been not other than the reflective surface of the glass coffin. Blue had been quite succinct at the explanation since she wasn’t versed on witch matters but Emma had caught the gist of it; given that it had been Regina who had created the original hex tying her to the place and how the object Sidney’s mirror had been tied to had ended up being the coffin, the magic of the original curse, the one that still lay dormant around Storybrooke, had called forth the Regina that had cast it originally, both sides of her.

That or she truly needed to study more magic; theory wouldn’t, after all, help her with her current conundrum: knowing that if it hadn’t been for that set of events she wouldn’t have been able to save the woman that now laid next to her. And that, in itself, was a far worse concept than any magical theory they could throw at her.

What kind of savior was she, she considered, fingers intertwined, clasped, knuckles white, feet firmly planted on the floor, knee perpetually bouncing, if she couldn’t help with something as straightforward as a magical jail? What kind of path was she in that she felt even more helpless than when she had first learned she had magic running through her? The title, and what came with it, stung, and weighed her down more these days, with each passing moment the never-ending realization that she wasn’t good enough to even be considered anything despite how her days had an end that kept on looming closer and closer.

There could be a myriad of other details she could be focusing on, of course, but she kept on returning to that point of her logic, not entirely sure what she was supposed to do. Henry had asked to stay, and she had complied, but Violet had appeared a few minutes in and had managed to get him out for five minutes to eat something, to talk. Emma had insisted on Henry to go; “If anything happens I’ll let you know.” She had said, lips thin, voice brittle, and Henry had stood his ground for a few more minutes before sighing. He, too, seemed to be eager to do something, anything, beyond waiting. And Emma couldn’t quite blame him. She at least hoped Violet would make him talk, if only so his feelings didn’t end up exploding inside of him, like bonfires. Which was precisely what she felt like: a straw puppet about to succumb.

“Why do you care this much?” Hook had asked her the moment she had told him to leave her be. “They are too far gone! They will probably not wake up until a few hours at least.”

But that hadn’t been the correct question because it held an answer Emma didn’t want to even consider, not aloud, not for herself and herself alone. So, she had shaken her head, pointed him to the door and turned.

Now, however, with the beep ringing on her ears and nothing to do but wait and count the lines and cracks on the floor, she felt her mind circle back to the question, the multiple ways in which she could have answered it. None of them felt right, not entirely, the multiple concepts of co-parenting, of friendship, correct but lacking. And so, she rose her hands and covered her eyes with them, pressing her fingertips against them until everything she was able to see was black upon black with dots and lines of colors that changed too fast for her mind to fully name them all.

“I told you, I trusted that you would be the one for him once I’m gone.” She mumbled, hoping for her voice to be sufficiently muffled. The noose around her neck tighter and tighter still as she tried to swallow, to form words that seemed too big for her lungs. “Fuck, Regina.”

She glanced up, her vision needing a few seconds upon adjusting, the scent of the hospital room not strong enough to dissolve the ozone and the scent that was Regina’s magic on itself, a soft cloud that had covered the brunette’s body ever since Emma had found her and The Queen, residual and just as weakened as its master, but still there. She now reached for that magic, for Regina’s forearm as her own felt as if pooling on her wrist, around her fingertips like cracks of electricity breaking through the air. If anything would have asked her, she wouldn’t have known why; neither she nor Regina touched each other that much. Touch, like everything else, was done following a pattern: one out of necessity, of high tension. They were economical in their interactions, perhaps because allowing themselves the luxury of simply reaching for the other would be too close to admitting that they wanted to simply be. Emma hadn’t exactly considered it, she had merely replied to what Regina gave her, knowing the fragility of what had been, at best, a truce at first. She now, however, reached for the other woman softly, index finger touching the other woman’s body in a shadow of a caress that felt far too short-lived.

Especially because the moment she did her magic burst out of her in tendrils that felt both gas and liquid in nature, wrapping themselves around Regina’s arm and ascending to the other woman’s mouth as they deposited themselves into her skin, glowing and turning from dirty white to purple a second before disappearing into her.

There was a beat, a second, and then brown eyes opened, searching for Emma’s hand, and clutching them tightly as, down the hall, David’s voice could be heard “She’s awake!”.

[They didn’t hear The Queen’s response for it was said through gritted teeth and breathless whispers, but the majesty’s eyes also glowed with dirty white quickly turning purple, electricity solidifying itself and turning into a plume that enveloped the woman, a final “I know the truth now” an echo that didn’t register to the ones in the room as they scrambled and tried to restrain her to no avail.]

No, they didn’t hear any of it, for it was later retold by David to Henry who had entered the moment screams could be heard, Violet in tow. But Emma kept her hand on Regina’s arm a little longer, eyes glowing, as the brunette coughed up a “Seems that sacrificing myself didn’t quite work.” That made Emma flush, worry renewed.

“We are in this together.” She lowered her voice, as steps echoed outside. “Don’t you dare to pull another one of this on me.”

Regina had smirked then, weak but awake enough for the line to form. “Understood.”

Because if anything happens to you there’s no rock I will turn nor a soul I will not destroy.

-.-

PS: *raises head from what they are reading* Oh, you expected them to kiss? Come on, it’s me! I didn’t call myself a little tease for anything during all the years I wrote for these two Xd Consider this a lost scene, a what if that could have happened. Despite my own personal head canons on when Regina actually started to realize she might be in love with Emma I always liked the scene of Regina at the vault as she and Emma got out of the mirror and Hook came into play. There were plenty of layers there that were always delightful to consider. I needed to do some twists on what happened canonically on this one -and I’m pretty sure the glass coffin ended up in another place rather than being kept at the clearing- but I’m not going to start considering OUAT cannon as something important to follow now, uh? Anyway, this has been written for W and also as a way of a writing exercise for me. As always and forever, comments are very much appreciated. General reminder that me writing for these two every other half a year or so doesn’t mean I’m back to the fandom but I will be delighted to listen to what you think of this one. And please, go and read waknatious’ stories because she is a truly amazing creator, and she deserves the love.

Dianne out

x

[natrogersfics]

After All - Chapter 2/5

Cover art by @faith2nyc​  ​Read on AO3

Toddlers are an enigma. That much is clear to Natasha. Compared to infants, they’re leaps and bounds more amusing. But they’re terribly difficult to gauge – they long for independence, yet knowing exactly how much to give without under or overwhelming them is anyone's guess. That limbo in particular is one of the more complicated aspects of parenting she’s learning to navigate, both emotionally and logistically. For as much as she’s excited to see what else is to come of Isabel’s burgeoning personality, there are days where she finds herself longing for the little cuddle bug who willingly gave her its complete cooperation without so much as a peep. And right now, as she sits on the play mat in her living room trying to get a sweater over her squirming daughter’s head, she notes that today happens to be one of those days.  

“Mama, ‘nuff!” she hears Isabel protest, her voice muffled by the soft cotton.

“Almost done, fig,” she says as she successfully gets Isabel’s head through the collar. “Tada!” Despite her enthusiasm, Isabel does not look the least bit amused, and as she leans forward to try to smooth the curls on her head that got ruffled in the process, the little girl dodges her hand with artful precision to reach for her blocks. With a shake of her head, she feels for her phone behind her, holding it up to point the camera at Isabel. “Okay, what do you think of this one?”

On screen, Pepper can only sigh. “It looks great. As did the first two sweaters you put on her.”

“But this one is cuter,” she reasons, zooming in on the embroidered flowers at the hem. “Look!”

“Nat,” Pepper says, her lips pressing into a line. “She’s spending the day with her father, not going to meet the Queen.”

“Maybe not intentionally,” she says. “This is London, after all. You never know when you’ll run into Her Majesty.”

“Natasha.” Pepper’s stern tone causes her to bite her lip, and when she musters the courage to look back at the screen, she finds her best friend regarding her carefully. “Are you having second thoughts about letting Steve come out to visit?”

“No,” she says, sighing at the way Pepper narrows her eyes. “I’m not, okay? And even if I was, it’s too late anyway. He’s literally on his way. It’s just- It’s not like there’s protocol for spending Christmas with your…” She puts her hand out, as if doing so would make the end of her sentence magically come to mind. But when you ask someone to have a child with you, and you end up falling in love with them, only for them to break your heart into a million little pieces later on when they don’t reciprocate your feelings, knowing what to accurately call them is complicated, to say the least. She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. It’s just unconventional, is what I’m saying.” Pepper’s lips part to speak, no doubt about her ironic choice of adjective, so she holds up a finger before she can. “Not a word.”

“Okay, okay,” Pepper acquiesces. “Just wanted to make sure that weirdness is the only reason you put my goddaughter through three outfit changes and not… other things.”    

“Trust me, Pep, those other things have been pushed so far back into the closet they’re in Narnia,” she says quietly. All her worries that night Steve had sent her a text turned out to be for nothing. She’d expected something big and life-altering, maybe news that he’d moved on and he wanted Isabel there for his wedding, but as it turned out, it was only a request to spend Christmas with them. “Anyway, it does not matter how weirded out I am by the circumstances. I got hurt... Maybe he did, too.” She lets her eyes linger to the mat where Isabel is still happily entertaining herself before shaking her head. “But that’s all water under the bridge now, and when possible, our daughter deserves to be with both her parents for Christmas. That’s why I agreed to this.”

“Well, I’m proud of you for being so mature about all this,” Pepper says. “I know it’s not easy.”

“It is what it is,” she says dismissively, giving Pepper a one-shouldered shrug. It’s only when the doorbell rings that her brave façade slips, her eyes widening involuntarily.  

“It’ll be fine, Nat,” Pepper says, offering her a reassuring smile. “Talk to you soon.”

With a two-fingered salute, she cuts the video, placing her phone in her back pocket and stealing another glance at Isabel to make sure she’s sufficiently preoccupied. Satisfied, she huffs out a breath and gives her reflection a cursory glance at the mirror, tucking a tendril of hair back as she makes her way to the front door. She reaches for the knob, putting on her best smile as she pulls it open.

“Hey,” Steve greets, smiling brightly as he stands at her front door dressed in dark jeans and a leather jacket.

“You shaved,” she blurts out, inwardly cursing at how quickly the words had fallen out of her mouth.

To her relief, he chuckles. “Oh yeah,” he says, reaching a hand up to his jaw. “I grew it out again for a bit there, but I know Izzie’s not a fan of it, so…”

“She might be a little more amenable now,” she says, though it comes across more like she’s wondering aloud, so she adds, “not that you need a beard or anything.”

“Yeah, no, it would be nice to get to keep it,” he says, gesturing to their surroundings, “especially when it gets cold like this.” His excitement is palpable as he cranes his neck slightly, as if to peek behind her. “Is she awake?”

“Oh, yes! Sorry, please come in.” She steps aside, opening the door wider to let him through. “You got in late last night, right? How was your flight?”

“I did, and it was okay,” he says as he follows her down the foyer. “The customs line at Heathrow, though, a little less so.”

She looks over her shoulder to shoot him a look of sympathy, knowing full well what that headache is like. “She just got up from her morning nap about an hour ago,” she says as they walk into the living room, and she does not have to turn around to know that the faint gasp Steve lets out is in awe of the sight of Isabel pushing her little vacuum cleaner around before them. “Izzie, baby, look who’s here.”

Isabel looks up at the sound of her voice, freezing in place as her eyes go from her and then to Steve, who steps forward and crouches down, opening his arms as he reaches for her. “Hi, fig!”  

A smile grazes her lips when Isabel begins to scamper over at Steve’s greeting, but it quickly fades – as does Steve’s elated expression – when their daughter moves past him to hide behind her legs instead. “Hey, it’s okay,” she says automatically, bending down to collect Isabel, who buries her face into her neck, into her arms. She turns to Steve. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know-”

“No,” he says placatingly, and though he tries to blink away the hurt in his eyes, she catches it all the same. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have assumed-”

“No, you were fine,” she says in her most reassuring voice. “She’s usually really friendly, but her quirks change every day now, it seems.” Steve nods at her, and she turns towards Isabel, dusting a kiss to the crown of her head and rubbing a hand soothingly up and down her back. “It’s okay, fig. It’s just Daddy.” When Isabel looks up at her, she reaches into her pocket, showing her the phone. “We talk all the time, remember? And we read stories before bedtime…”  

Isabel looks at the phone in her hand and then at her, her big blue eyes skeptical. “Dada?”

“Yes, yes,” she says excitedly, eyeing Steve over Isabel’s head as she mouths, “talk to her.”

“Hi, Izzie,” Steve says, prompting Isabel to peek shyly at him. He smiles. “It’s me, Daddy. Remember? On the phone we said in two more sleeps we were gonna go on adventures?”

It’s with bated breath that she waits for Isabel’s reaction. The little girl purses her lips, and it’s almost by instinct that she braces herself for a meltdown, but instead, she finds herself nearly sighing in relief when Isabel leans forward and reaches for Steve. “Dada!”

“Yes, baby girl, Dada!” Steve says as he takes Isabel into his arms, standing and beaming from ear to ear when she wraps her arms around his neck. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” He kisses her cheek as he moves to settle her against his hip. “How’s my girl?”

“I play!” Isabel exclaims, her words promptly descending into gibberish as she goes on and on.

She watches as Steve nods along amusedly, barely containing his smile as he listens to Isabel talk. “Yeah, so…” she interjects, prompting Steve to look her way. “You’ll get about two, maybe three actual words from her before you have to use context clues and the Science of Deduction to figure out the rest.”

Steve laughs. “That’s about as much as I get from Tony, so I think I’ll manage.”

“Touché,” she says, chuckling when Isabel demands to be put down and stalks back to her mat. She points a thumb over her shoulder. “Can I get you something to drink before you guys leave? There’s still some coffee in the pot if you want some.”

Steve nods, and as they walk the short distance to her kitchen, she notices how he immediately positions himself by the counter overlooking the living room. “Still not a tea person, huh?”

Her expression sours as she begins to pour him a cup, eliciting a laugh from him. “I don’t think the British government will appreciate me becoming a menace to society.”

He smirks as he accepts the mug from her. “How’s work?”

“It’s… going,” she says, shrugging at the questioning look he sends her. “T’Challa, Nakia, and I finally got the company up and running both on paper and digital, but you know how it is when the truth ruffles some feathers.”

“Hmm,” he says, nodding in acknowledgement. “Same S-H-I-T, different continent, huh?”  

“She can’t hear you,” she says with an amused smile as she goes to rinse the pot in the sink. “But basically, yes. We ran a piece about a member of Parliament and some of his unsavory practices. Nothing but the truth there, but it’s not being received well, which is why Izzie and I couldn't make it back in time for Christmas.”

“I kinda figured the article would have them clutching their pearls.”

She turns to him, surprised. “You read The Pioneer?”

“Yeah,” he says, “I-”

The unmistakable clang of metal as it hits the ground interrupts him, followed immediately by Isabel’s proclamation of oh no, and that’s enough to send them both racing out of the kitchen and back into the living room to see Isabel standing over the now scattered tin of cookies that was sitting on the coffee table.

She turns to Steve, crossing her arms over her chest. “By the way, she likes knocking things over for S-H-I-T-S and giggles now, too.”

He cringes. “Any chance her vacuum cleaner actually works?”

It’s after the crumbs in her living room are sorted out and they both manage to convince their daughter to put and keep her shoes on that she stands outside her front door, watching as Steve swings the baby bag over his shoulder and picks Isabel up.

“Anything else about this one that I should know before we go?” Steve asks, jostling Isabel slightly in emphasis.

“Let’s see…” she says, “well, she hates socks with a ferocity. I did you a solid by getting them on, but if for any reason you have to take them off, know that you’re never going to get them on again. Also, nine times out of ten her answer to anything is no, so use your discretion when seeking her opinion.” Steve’s lips part, but before he can speak, she adds, “Oh, and she’s on a hunger strike. I’m told it’s just a phase, but hey, if you can get her to eat, more power to you.”  

Steve stands there, blinking once and then twice. “Okay...” he says, turning to Isabel. “Well, don’t you sound delightful.”

“No,” Isabel says with a shake of her head.

“You sure you don’t want to take the stroller?” she asks when Steve’s face falls at their daughter’s swift reply, and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

“Nah, I think we’ll be fine,” he says. “I’ll have her back in a few hours.”

“Sounds good,” she says before waving at Isabel. “Bye, Iz! Have fun.”

“Bye!” Isabel says, waving back.

She waits for Steve and Isabel to walk down the block, and once they disappear from her vantage point, she returns inside, letting out a breath and feeling a lot more at ease than she did when she had woken up this morning. With any luck, maybe this didn’t have to be the debacle she thought it might be.

He should have taken the stroller.

The thought loops continuously in Steve’s mind as he lengthens his strides along the cobblestone paths of Kensington Gardens in an attempt to keep up with his daughter. “Izzie, slow down, babe!” he calls out, half in astonishment at seeing Isabel zoom past him with ease and half in anxiousness over the uneven grounds beneath their feet. The plea only spurns her on though, and he finds himself chuckling under his breath when she attempts to run. “Come here, you little daredevil!”  

Isabel dissolves into a fit of giggles as he collects her in his arms, lifting her to him to pepper her face with kisses. “Dada, no!”

“You keep this up, you’re gonna scrape your knees,” he tries to explain though he knows it’s an exercise in futility. If there’s anything he’s learned in the last couple of hours since they left Natasha’s flat, it’s that trying to reason with his eighteen-month-old is practically like talking to a wall.

“Walk,” Isabel insists, blinking up at him as if he hadn’t said a word. But then she smiles, the type that spans so wide it reaches her eyes and bares all her milky white teeth that his heart is helpless to do anything but melt in his chest.

“Fine,” he says with a sigh, ignoring the teasing he can hear in his head from everyone in his life about how easily he’s charmed. “But you have to hold Daddy’s hand, okay?”

“‘kay,” Isabel says as he puts her back down on her feet, and he can’t help but grin when she offers up her hand for him to take.

By the time they make it to the Italian Gardens, Isabel tires enough that she does not protest when he picks her up to get a better view of the fountains, and as she points to every little thing that catches her attention and narrates her thoughts to him, he’s relieved by how quickly she’s readjusted to his presence. There was a part of him that had anticipated her skepticism of him this morning – for as much as they FaceTimed three times a week, he knows that it’s still not a substitute for her seeing him every day – though he has to admit that the way she had run to Natasha as if he were some stranger still stinged. Heartbreak is something he knows a little too well, but being rejected by his own daughter is one type he hopes he’ll never have to experience ever again.

Luckily for him, that doesn’t seem to be in the cards any longer. Isabel’s been nothing but receptive to him since they left, and for his part, he’s been all but entranced by every new facet of her personality that he’s discovered. She’s still the same precocious and affectionate little girl he remembers from six months ago, only now she’s more gregarious, and he can’t recall having laughed as much as he has since they’ve set out together this morning.  

“Look!” Isabel says, and as he turns his gaze towards the direction her finger is pointed in, he makes out one of the urns of the Tazza fountain.

“Do you know what that is?” he asks, observing Isabel’s reaction. Though it’s been a while since he’s been able to spend this much time with her, he realizes that despite her evolving personality, there’s a familiarity to her mannerisms and proclivities, and that’s because it’s so inherently Natasha – much like the way her nose is scrunched up now as she tries to answer his question. But there are also parts of himself that he’s found in her in the last couple of hours, such as the way her shoulders sag in defeat when she’s being reprimanded, and he finds some comfort in the reminder that regardless of the time they spend apart, they’ll always be intrinsically connected.

Isabel turns back to him, her eyes growing wide with excitement. “Do-phin?”

“Yes, baby girl!” he says, earning a squeal of delight from Isabel when he kisses her cheek. “You’re right, it’s a dolphin. Good job!” He turns away from the fountain, reaching behind him to fish his phone out of his pocket and opening it up to the camera. “Okay, now smile so we can send grandma a picture.”

“No!” Isabel says immediately, turning her face away.

He puts his phone down, chuckling. “You win some, you lose some.”

The next day, he pretends not to notice Natasha’s I-Told-You-So expression when he asks for the stroller before he and Isabel set out on another day of sightseeing. Yesterday had been a real eye opener for him in terms of getting to know his daughter’s quirks, and as he pushes Isabel through St. James Park, he revels in having been better prepared this time around. While he hadn’t succeeded in getting pictures of her facing the camera on their previous outing, he’s certain and feeling a touch triumphant at having taken enough today to satisfy both his family and his friends in their respective group chats. The trick, he learned, lies in phrasing the idea of taking the picture to Isabel in a form of a question instead of a command. It seemed silly, but as he’s learning, such is toddler logic. Plus, in the end, the elaborate charade of it all is worth it if it meant sticking it to Bucky for harping on his photography skills.

It’s when he and Isabel are walking out of a restaurant two days later that he hears his phone ring, and as he looks at the name flashing on the screen, he pushes the stroller to the side, turning it until Isabel is facing him. “It’s momma,” he mouths to Isabel, who looks up at him, before bringing the phone to his ear. “Hey, we’re on our way back.”

“Hey,” Natasha says, and his eyebrows immediately furrow at the exasperated sigh that accompanies her greeting. “That’s actually why I’m calling. I ran into a problem at work and won’t be home for another hour or two and I know it’s almost her bedtime. Do you mind staying with her until I get back?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, just need to sort something out here sooner rather than later,” she says. “But are you sure you don’t mind? Because I can get-”

“Natasha,” he interrupts. “I’ve got her. Do what you have to do.”

“Thank you,” Natasha says, gratitude thick in her voice. “I’ll be home as soon as I can, but make yourself comfortable and help yourself to whatever’s in my kitchen if you want. But also maybe try not to judge what’s in it, yeah?”

“Duly noted,” he says with a chuckle, thankful that such is the rapport they’ve built since he arrived that she’s comfortable enough to joke around with him. “Oh, but before you go.” His eyes fall to Isabel, who’s busying herself with her new Beefeater doll, before he shakes his head. “Do you have a hair dryer I can borrow?”

A sigh slips from Natasha’s lips when she walks into her flat and haphazardly rids herself of her heels, shoving the pair off to the side as she makes her way down the foyer. The living room is empty when she enters, and the first thing she notices is how much neater the space looks – gone are the toys Isabel had scattered around, and for once, the throw pillows on her couch actually align properly. But when her gaze falls to the recliner on the left and then to the black coat draped over the back, all her questions are immediately answered.

“Steve?” she calls out. “You in here?” When she does not get a reply, she steps further into the room, suddenly becoming aware of the whirring sound coming from down the hall. She decides to follow it, and when it leads her to the open doorway of the bathroom, she can only chuckle as she peers inside. “So that’s what you needed the hair dryer for.”

Steve whips around at the sound of her voice, a startled expression on his face as he holds the dryer in one hand and his shirt in the other. “Oh hey,” he says, thumbing the dryer off. “Uh… sorry, I didn’t hear you come in over the noise.”

“Well, if I’m being honest, I’m a little disappointed,” she admits, smirking when his face twists in confusion. “When you asked to borrow my dryer, I was hoping it was because you gave Izzie a bath and decided to give her a fabulous blowout.”

“I did give her a bath,” he says, a tinge of indignance in his voice as he points to the tub. “But I also had to give my shirt a bath on the account of the little rascal throwing her spaghetti at me.” He shoots her a withering look when she throws her head back, cackling. “Ha ha, very funny.”

“Yeah, probably should have warned you about that,” she says, rolling her lips in an attempt to taper her laughter. “She asleep already?”

“Got her down about a half hour ago,” he says.

Though she already knew the answer, his confirmation still evokes disappointment in her. “I’m gonna go kiss her goodnight,” she tells him, turning and making her way towards the end of the hall. Isabel’s room is dimly lit by her night light, and carefully, she tiptoes towards the crib, bending down to press a kiss to her forehead. For a moment, she allows herself to just watch the rise and fall of her daughter’s chest, letting the peaceful image wash away the fatigue from her day. Then with sigh and a final glance at her, she exits the room in search of a much needed nightcap.

The kitchen tiles are cold under her feet as she makes a beeline for the fridge, and as she pulls the door open to inspect its contents, she hears her name being called out. “Kitchen!” she yells back. The sound of footsteps coming her way is the only response, and she looks over her shoulder in time to see Steve appear by the frame, his shirt back on and its sleeves rolled past his elbows. “Want a beer?” she asks, only to silently admonish herself when she sees the way Steve’s brows shoot up in surprise. “I’m sorry, I’ve kept you long enough, haven’t I? You probably have things to do-”

“No,” he interrupts, clearing his throat as he straightens his stance. “A beer would be nice, actually.”

She smiles. “Stella still good with you?” When he nods, she turns back to the fridge, grabbing two bottles before using her foot to shut the door. She twists off the caps before handing the other bottle to him, and when he mutters a thank you, she nods towards her living room.

“So let me get this straight…” she hears him say as she plops down on the couch and he takes a seat on the recliner. “You’re still a coffee addict but no longer a vodka fiend?” He clicks his tongue. “Gotta be honest, I always thought that if one had to go, it would be the coffee.”

“First of all,” she says, propping her feet up on the coffee table. “I would never give up either. But gun to my head, it would be coffee, yes.” She lifts her bottle up as if to inspect it. “Vodka is still my poison of choice. I just haven’t had the time to replenish.”

“Bad day?” he asks as she takes a long swig from her bottle.

“You don’t know the half of it,” she groans, placing her bottle down to dig the heels of her hands into her eyes.  

A beat passes before she hears him ask, “Wanna talk about it?”

Her eyes blink open in surprise, and she turns to look at him. “You really want to hear about work stuff?”

“Only if you want to talk about it,” he says with a shrug.

For a second, she can only sit there, blinking as she contemplates his offer. In the last few days since he arrived, they’ve been cordial enough with one another that asking him to stay with Isabel as she sorted out some pressing issues at work tonight didn’t feel like that big of an imposition. Now here she is, commandeering more of his time by inviting him to have a beer with her that, surely, it would be rude of her to unload on him about her harrowing workday, too. But as she turns back to him, the earnestness of his expression convinces her to throw caution to the wind. She sighs, sinking further into her seat. “It’s just a lot of… bullshit,” she says, leaning her elbow on the arm rest as they both laugh at her word choice. “The member of Parliament I was talking about a few days ago? This morning he threatened to sue us for defamation.” Concern paints his features at her words, but she’s quick to wave it off. “We already talked to legal about it. It’s all a power play. With the amount of evidence we have to back up our claims, he does not have a case.”

“Then what’s the problem?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” she says, looking up at the ceiling. “Once upon a time, I would have found intimidation tactics like this a fun challenge... In fact, I lived for these hurdles. I liked knowing my work was keeping people like him up at night, because it meant I was hitting at the truth. But nowadays?” She shrugs, looking back at him. “I guess the exhaustion just sinks down to the bone a little more… and it’s not that I don’t love my job, I do. Becoming editor-in-chief has always been on my career bucket list and I know I’m very fortunate to be where I am today. It’s just that checking every little thing off of that list isn’t everything to me anymore.” She nods towards the hallway. “She is.”

“No, I totally get it,” he says, and for the first time in a while, she feels relief wash over her at the certainty that fills his eyes. “I didn’t know that being a curator was something I wanted to do until Tony and Pepper approached me about it. Discovering all these new artists has been great-”

“And the gift baskets too, I’m sure,” she adds, smirking at the questioning look that crosses his face. “Darcy catches me up on the office gossip. She said you get a lot of loot from people vying to interview you.”

“I leave whatever I get in the breakroom and let them fight over it,” he explains, smiling as she chuckles. “But yeah, the feeling of professional accomplishment I’ve had these last couple of years? Doesn’t even come close to how it felt when Izzie looked up at me tonight as I was putting her to bed and told me, unprompted, that she loved me.”  

“I lah you,” she says, making them both chuckle as she mimics Isabel’s voice. “Kinda knocks you off your feet a little, huh?” He nods, to which she smiles. “Anyway, enough talking about work and our lives’ purpose for one night. What did you two get into today?”

“See for yourself,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket and handing it to her. “I thought she might like to see horse drawn carriages like in her bedtime stories, so we went to the Royal Mews. I think she really enjoyed it. Well, save for the little meltdown she had when I wouldn’t let her pet the” – he puts out his free hand, making air quotations with his index and middle fingers – “ponies.”

She scoffs, handing him back his phone. “If it was just a little meltdown, consider yourself lucky. She once face-planted on the floor of a Tesco because I wouldn’t let her carry the carton of eggs while we shopped.”

“Toddlers, huh?” he says with a shake of his head.

“They’re cute for a reason,” she concurs. “What about tomorrow?”

“We were going to see Big Ben, but then I learned that it’s boarded up,” he says, his gaze falling to the watch on his wrist. “Oh, wow. Speaking of tomorrow, though, I have to work a little in the morning before I come get her, so I should probably get going.” When she nods in acknowledgement, he stands, reaching for his coat. “But anyway, we might just do the aquarium instead. That place any good?”

She shrugs. “Wouldn’t know. Never been.”

“You’ve never been to the aquarium?” he asks incredulously, his eyes widening when she shakes her head no. “Have you at least gone to other sites? Like the Tower?”

“I’ve seen it. It’s on my bus route to work.”

“Natasha,” he says in equal parts amusement and admonishment.

“I’ve been busy,” she argues. “And taking a not even two-year-old to the Tower of London where they keep all the shiny Crown Jewels that she’s not allowed to touch?” She scoffs. “I’m not a glutton for punishment, Steve.”

“They’re encased in glass boxes,” he reasons, to which she rolls her eyes before turning to straighten the throw pillows on the couch. There’s a pause, and just when she assumes that he’s chosen to let the argument go, he sighs. “You should come with us.”

“What?” she asks, turning to him, pillow still in hand. “Steve, I can’t-”

“You got plans?” he challenges.

“Not for a few days, no, but I do have mounds of laundry to do,” she says, scoffing when he crosses his arms over his chest. “Hey, she might be small, but she goes through a lot of clothes and they’re a pain to fold.”

“You can do laundry when you get back,” he dismisses. “Come on, Nat. You’re the one that made fun of me for not having been to The Met before.”

“That’s not the same. You had been living in Manhattan for years at that point,” she says before gesturing around her flat. “Look, I know you couldn’t help yourself and tidied up this living room, you weirdo. But trust me when I say there’s more to clean!” When his knowing gaze does not let up, she scoffs. And maybe it’s the catharsis from having shared her qualms about work with the only person who truly understands her predicament, or the way they’d seamlessly fallen into conversation as if it hadn’t been ages since they last sat back and had a beer together, but either way, she finds her determination wavering. With a sigh, she puts the pillow back down on the couch. “Fine, okay. Okay. I’ll go.”

“Okay,” he says, suddenly looking triumphant. As he begins to make his way towards the door, she follows him, raising a brow in question when he puts a hand on the knob only to turn back to her. He shrugs. “I know the consequences of your work are exhausting, but for what it’s worth… I think we’re all pretty lucky to have you fighting to get the truth out there.”

Despite how tired she feels, her lips turn up in a smile. “Thank you,” she says with a nod of her head. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight, Nat.”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

[azurevi]

on land where we can touch the moon (1/?)

Ok, so this is a really random idea, but it’s basically The Little Mermaid with Azul. And I wish I could excuse myself by saying that I was drunk writing this, but really I was just rushing it because I’ve been sitting on it for far too long. Anyways, enjoy!

Pairing : Azul / genderneutral reader

Characters : Grim, Ace and Deuce

Warnings/Triggers : none

Word count : 3,371

PART2 PART 3

“Isn’t this great,” you made a show of strolling along the railing, the beer in your hand threatening to spill. “The salty sea air, the wind blowing in your face. Perfect day to be at sea!”

“Yes, well-” Jack paused mid-sentence to lean over the side. He sounded as though he was retching. “It is indeed a favourable weather, your royal highness- urk!”

“Now, what did I say about formalities, Jack?”

“You said, and I quote, ‘Call me by my first name, if only for today. It’s a direct order.’”

You went up to soothe his back. When he pulled his head up, his eyes were glossy and cheeks purple. “It’s inappropriate for you to see me in this state, your majesty,”

“So you’re defying my orders now? And on my birthday, no less?”

“That man is all work and no fun,” Ace commented bitterly. He and Deuce were on the opposite side of the ship, holding their respective mugs of beer.

“That’s what makes him the knight commander,” Deuce said.

“A knight commander who’s seasick, huh?”

“Shut up, both of you!“ 

You chortled blatantly, chest light and hair spraying in the wind. 

"Fireball Attack!”

There was a sharp yell, and Grim’s fur was all up in your face before you knew it.

“Hey, hey! Someone’s in a good mood!” You cradled him in your arms. His fur was fluffy and sticking up in the air in all directions.

While you were entertaining your attention-starved familiar, your personal knights had managed to get into yet another fistfight. Jack, the poor commander, was cornered on the edge of the ship, his golden, distinguished pin somehow threatening to slip off in his fingers.

“If I drop my badge, I swear on my wage you’re getting extra morning training and night patrols for the next whole year-!”

He gagged slightly before turning sharply, elbowing Ace in the process. His arm jolted, and the badge escaped his firm pinch, glistening in the air. Time seemed to slow as it made its way downwards, all the while the knights’ mouths grew rounder and rounder.

It plummeted right into the sea, made an insignificant plop and continued sinking quietly, slowly, until the sea muted the screams on deck and the light dwindled.

“We should really stay away, Rory,”

“Quit being a chicken,”

Lovett was falling behind. Rory had insisted that they visit this deeper and lesser known part of the ocean due to a half-hearted dare. And Rory, headstrong that she was, would never back down from a challenge.

“Haven’t you heard? Deep where the light doesn’t reach lives the evil Sea Merchant! A force to be reckoned with! It’s-”

Lovett swivelled swiftly. He was pretty sure something had just swam past from behind.

“Oh, for the love of Poseidon, please don’t eat me for I’m just a standard merman!”

“Will you zip?” Rory was already a few feets ahead. Lovett continued to mumble prayers as he flapped his tail harder.

There was almost no light now, but they could still make out the outlines of rocks and corals. It was uncanny how there was nary a sign of life, not even a lanternfish.

“What’s- what’s the dare anyways?”

“To steal something from the evil Sea Merchant’s collection,”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Lovett gasped. He had yet to notice how they’d swam into a forest of seaweeds. Some clung to their tails as they swam by and tickled their sides.

Something strong and somewhat slimy wrapped around Lovett’s arm. Presuming that it was just another irritating weed, he swung his arm back and forth. It only seemed to grow tighter.

“Great seas, what-” he turned to inspect. “Oh- oh- ten-TENTACLE!”

Rory sprinted around at the scream. “Holy-” she murmured, speechless and shocked to the core. 

Wrapped around Lovett’s elbow was no doubt a tentacle lined with suckers. For a while, it didn’t seem to be moving, but then Lovett was yanked away like lightning.

“Lovett!”

The first thought that came to his mind was that he was going to be eaten. That was until he was met with a frowning face. One under silver messy hair. Then his eyes traveled down the seemingly countless slithering tentacles that stretched out from the man, and he was trembling in fear again.

“Please-! Don’t eat me! I have the least nutritional diet!”

The man didn’t answer. Instead, he squinted at Lovett for an agonizingly long time before finally letting him loose. Lovett squirmed and backed away. The area where he had been held had become swollen red.

“Lovett?” Rory had just gotten into the scene. Lovett didn’t wait a second to break into a run, but Rory caught him by his elbow where it was still hurting.

“We gotta run, Rory-”

‘Huh. What, it’s just Ashengrotto? Have you forgotten about him already?“

Lovett whimpered when Rory advanced on the man. He narrowed his gaze behind a neat pair of glasses. Lovett half expected Rory to be squeezed to death on the spot.

"You’re lurking down here now? How lame. And I see that you still got those hideous fingers of yours,” Rory gestured at his tentacles. “You seriously don’t remember him, Lovett? You have shit memories. Does Azul Ashengrotto from college ring a bell?”

It took Lovett a long, long time to get it. “That’s right, you’re Azul! Man, how you’ve changed- wait, are you the Sea Merchant?”

There was nothing that could rival the bitterness in Azul’s voice. “Pleased to see you again, Lovett,”

“Is it easier to prey on fishes down here? Or are you just that insecure about yourself?” Rory paid no mind to their conversation.

“… It’s none of your business,”

“It actually is. You see, knowing that an ink-blasting octopus lives in the same water as I do is really unnerving-”

“Then make your leave.”

Rory’s smug look faltered. 

“Why should I? You don’t even own this part of the ocean-”

“Oh? Who are these friends of yours, Azul?”

A singsong voice once again interrupted Rory. She turned on her spot, only to find herself face to face with a grinning face.

“Eek-!”

“Oh! If this isn’t Rory~ how kind of you to visit us!”

Lovett backed away quietly. He wasn’t going to stay for anymore of this horror. When two hands slammed onto his shoulders, he shrieked a key higher than any other that’s been sung by opera singers. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” a far more stern and solid voice asked. It was one of those voices you hear in persuading commercials.

It was the Leech brothers, in their long, slender eel forms.

Lovett thought that was it. This was his doom. He was either going to get eaten alive or squeezed to his demise. He should never have agreed to come here. And now he was going to die. He didn’t even get to experience life-

“It’s fine, Jade, Floyd,” Azul said calmly. The hands on Lovett’s shoulders retreated, and Rory rushed towards him hastily and pulled him up and up until they were out of the seaweeds.

“I can’t believe you let them off that easily!” Floyd complained, pouting hard. “We could’ve had some fun with them first, and yet you decided to play good guy?”

Azul didn’t reply. The three of them travelled between rocks and reefs, and while Azul seemed to be in search of something, the twins were merely accompanying.

“I believe he has his reasons,” Jade said, pausing in anticipation. When Azul didn’t soothe his curiosity, he sighed and decided to drop the topic.

Azul rummaged through the swaying weeds and peeked into the slits of the rocks. Nothing seemed to have piqued his interest. Then they swam even further away from where they’d started and reached a sunken ship.

While almost the entirety of the hull had rotten away the structure of the ship still remained intact. Anemones and sponges had claimed the pieces of wood. Tiny shrimps traveled freely between poles and debrises.

Jade and Floyd followed tightly like bodyguards. They were at least mildly worried after the encounter with Rory and Lovett. They could still recall vividly how notorious Rory was and what a relief that they never had to meet again.

If anything, Azul seemed frustrated. His tentacles worked individually, shoving aside inconvenience hastily just like his hands. It was as though he’d lost something priced and valued.

“Let’s split up, alright? Treasure hunt’s no fun if we’re just following one another,” Floyd said as he rounded a corner and out of sight. Jade hesitantly stayed behind as well, leaving Azul to his own.

He’d been here so many times that he’d lost count. There was always something new and from the land somewhere between the ruins. But this time, it seemed to have become just another bland, boring place without any aesthetic value.

That was until something flickered in the corner of his eyes. It was so weak that it would’ve gone unnoticed by, say, Jade and Floyd, but Azul had always been delicate in treasure hunting. Nothing ever slipped his sight.

It looked like a badge. A golden brimmed badge with two crossed swords in the middle, and at the bottom carved two grand words - 'Knight Commander’.

“Oh, what’s that you’ve got there?”

“Ahh!" 

Azul spoke up finally in a long time. The brothers had at some point started following him again.

"Looks like a badge,”

“Bet it sank just a few hours ago. It looks very intact,”

“Yeah,” Azul flipped it between his fingers, eyes tracing in fascination. “It’s not everyday you see something like this,”

His mood seemed to have lightened after this discovery. He was gratified. It’d been a while since he last found anything worthy enough to add to his collection of trinkets from ashore. It put a smile to his face just remembering his towering shelves of tiny valuables. 

Azul owned a secret grotto that even the Leech brothers knew nothing of. He’d made sure that it was known only to him.

It was where he stored all the human objects he’d found undersea. Things like a trident but with four tips or a shallow, handled bowl. There were items as big as a golden pot and others as small as a hairclip. Everywhere he turned they were shimmering and singing about the unknown world outside the water, where mermaids had legs and walked instead of swimming, where they could dance instead of just swaying and flapping tails. Where they could go so many different places - forests and deserts, mountains and caves - many more than what the ocean held.

And they could reach the moon. The ageless, pensive moon that Azul could only wish to caress. But no matter how hard he stretched, it was only in his dreams where the moon would come down in all its glory, close enough to blind his eyes.

He needed to reach it. There was no other way. It was the single entity in the world that knew all the truths and lies, all the corruptions and praises. He had to see it, then he would get the answers - the truth he’d always hungered for. 

Muffled rumbles snapped him out of his intensity. When he looked up from under the grotto, he’d thought he was hallucinating.

The usually azure (and rather bland, may he add) current was now painted with red- no, yellow- purple- it was changing with every muted clap. It might have as well been the end of the world with its bizarreness. However, there was something else stirring in Azul’s heart aside from confusion.

Curiosity. A haste force that was tingling in all his eight tentacles, as if there was no way to rid of the sensation except to swim towards the source.

It was wrong on so many levels. He’d been taught by teachers, friends and his parents that to go beyond the water was basically pleading to be killed. Humans are nothing but greedy, spineless, nasty fish-eaters who are incapable of emotions, that’s what everyone said.

Was that really the case, though? As Azul surveyed his collections, he found it harder by second to believe in the lore. How would they explain all these sparkling and antique cosmetics? How could a world that made so many wonderful things be bad?

And so he pushed aside all doubts that were chaining his limbs and flew towards the surface.

The moment he broke the fabric of water and chill air entered his ears, he was taken back by the sight before him.

A colossal wooden ship was sailing right above. Behind it, lights and fire burnt themselves in the sky then fell into the water dimly. There were singing and whooping aboard where he couldn’t see. The grandness of it all was so deafening that Azul failed to hear the voice of reason in his head as he neared the boat.

There was an opening at the side of the ship. Azul carefully stuck his head up so he wouldn’t be seen. At least not without squinting.

There were about five people dancing and hollering, some holding drinks in their hands while the others blowing into their snarfblats with reddened cheeks. 

“Encore! Encore!” a red-haired guy yelled. Then there was an airy laugh in response. Azul turned sharply towards where it came from.

Azul was… awestruck, to say the least. You were grinning from eye to eye, which were diminished into slits. As you laughed on, Azul felt his chest lighten little by little. It was one of those laughs that pulled you closer and assured you that the world around was but a facade. He could listen to your laugh for the rest of his life and he’d never be distressed again.

“Alright, but can we first reveal the massive unknown that’s been standing here for the past hours? You know I can see it right?” you asked with confidence, and this confidence was just humble enough not to be arrogant.

“As you wish, mademoiselle,” another man with dark blue hair bowed with a flourish, then approached the object in question which was covered with a drape. He was at least tipsy with his wavering and unsteady steps.

“Presenting-!” he hollered before yanking the drape off. Surprisingly it was a golden statue made to resemble you.

You recoiled in mild distaste, but your smile remained. Azul pondered about how you still managed to radiate a cheerfulness despite your negative reaction.

It also occurred to him that it was made in gold. Out of all his collectibles there was rarely even a gold necklace. You must have a reputation for someone to make you such a big deal.

“Well, here’s your birthday present, milady,” the tipsy man was throwing names spontaneously now. The red-haired had to drag him away from the railing several times. You had all resumed singing and dancing. Azul was so captivated by your figure that he didn’t even notice the fireworks dying down.

You and a dark-skinned man were leaning right next him now. What looked like a cat but with flame shaped ears and a devil’s tail started sniffing in the vicinity. Azul was having a hard time staying out of its way and eavesdropping on your conversation.

“You sure you don’t want some?” you raised your mug to his face, which he declined respectfully.

“I’d prefer to stay sober,” he said. “You know, I don’t wish to spoil your birthday, but the king’s being more pressing than ever,”

“Yeah? About what?”

He stared at you for a moment before answering, as if he was trying to look pass your display. 

“About marriage, of course,”

You didn’t answer. Though the corners of your lips were still raised in the aftermath of all the previous hypes, you were obviously unhappy to be there. Azul wished the man would shut up and bring your smile back instead.

“It’s not just the King, your highness. The whole kingdom wants to see you happily settled down with the right person,”

“Jack-” you took a deep, deep breath. “It’s not something that can come quicker just because you’re anxious. I have to find the right person-”

“I understand…” Jack mumbled under his breath. He didn’t look like he understood at all.

“- and they’re out there somewhere. I’m sure. I just haven’t found them yet,” you turned and dangled your arms over the railing. Azul quietly swam under your hands. He could probably touch your fingertips if he stretched hard enough.

“When I see them, it’s gonna hit me. Like bam! Like lightning-”

As if hearing your prayer the sky cracked open with a loud cry and grew darker still. The other men scattered out hurriedly, looking as though they’d never drunk anything.

“Hurricane coming in! Stand fast, secure the rigging!”

It all happened so fast. The wind was so strong that Azul could almost feel himself being blown away. The sky rumbled again and lightning started a rapid fire where it’d striked. He noticed a rock looming just ahead, but no one on board seemed to have noticed it.

He should probably go. It’s the safest under the sea. The sky couldn’t hurt a hair of his. But then he heard your screams of commands, and suddenly he was a brave knight willing to give up his life for the princette.

You weren’t on the ship when he neared. Instead, you were already secured on a piece of log, as well as the other men. He exhaled a relieved sigh, but it didn’t last as he heard cries from the ship.

“Ah! Get away you nasty fire- help!” cried a high-pitched voice.

“Oh no, Grim!” you gasped. Without a second thought, you let loose of the log and rushed towards the burning ship. The broken ship gave you better access as you hopped on, but the moment you’d secured your familiar, the ship roared and you tripped and fell.

“Look out!” Azul yelled out futilely. The ship ran straight into the rock and BOOM, everything was set ablaze. Azul dodged between dropping debrises mindlessly as he roamed around in search of you.

When nothing was found above, he dived back into the water and there you were - sinking into the water, growing darker and darker by second. He was next to you in a blink - thanks to his fast-moving tentacles. 

Your group had already gone out of sight when he emerged again, but to his best luck there was a piece of land just near, and he raced there like he was going to lose his own life if he was too late. It was only when you were pulled up on the dryland that he could soothe his pounding heartbeat.

He was bewildered at the fact that he could breathe on land just as well as he did under water. Aside from the sand that had started sticking to his tentacles the moment they touched, nothing seemed to be out of place.

“Hey,” he’d never rescued a drowning human before. He didn’t even know what drowning was. 

“Are you dead?” he slapped your cheek lightly. Your chest didn’t seem to be heaving, and your lips were as pale as snow.

“Hey-”

“Blergh!” Your head jerked up and suddenly you were coughing up water. Azul squeaked before scurrying over to hide behind a rock.

Your head was drooping back and forth as you held yourself up with wobbly arms. Then you started turning around and locked eyes with Azul’s as he peeked out tentatively.

Oh, it’s bad. This is very bad.

“Who-” you started to stand, and at the same time Azul began to reach for the water stealthily so you wouldn’t notice. He knew he’d be screwed if he was spotted.

“Y/N!” someone cried from far away, and you turned to look. The split second was just enough for him to crawl back into the water and out of sight.

The water washed the sand off him quickly, erasing all the evidence that he’d been out there violating one of the strictest rules under the sea, but despite all, he found himself already missing the crisp air above.

If any, he’d grown more fond of the unknown world that you lived in.

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 12: Shadow Man

(from ‘The Winter and The Crown’)

…in which they come home and so much has changed.

Word count: 5k

AU: queen!y/n, commander!harry

Description: Y/N and Harry set off on a new adventure to find ‘the cure’ for an ancient curse, meanwhile, the enemies are plotting to take her kingdom.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N)

A/N: 

Did I just write 5k words in 2 days? Fuck yeah I did :) Sorry for being unproductive and depressed, that was very unsexy of me lmao. I’ve recovered from a long sleep. Don’t worry.

But hey, at least I finished this chapter before Nevada finished counting their votes :)

.

.

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"I remember everything."

Y/N had waited too long to hear this. She'd made up scenarios in her head of how this would happen. Yet standing in front of him now, she didn't know what to do. He leaned in with a broad expectant smile, and she shoved him away as hard as she could.

"What was that for?" he gasped.

"How do I know you're real?" she hissed, taking a step back only to realise she'd fall into the water if she'd gone further.

Harry cocked his head to the side and studied her like a swordsman with his opponent. She thought he was about to attack, but once she'd regained her composure, she realised he was waiting for her to recognise him.

He extended a hand and moved in. She froze, second-guessing his intentions. To her surprise, he lifted her hand by the wrist and placed it against his chest. It wasn't until now that she noticed the wind had died and the snow had stopped falling. The forest was so still, like it was holding its breath, waiting to see how this scene would unfold.

"How about this?" he asked, knowing she could feel his heartbeats, so alive, so human, against her palm. "Your hand is cold," he chuckled, his voice breathy. She didn't answer, knowing the fact that she missed him too much could blind her judgement.

Harry's nose scrunched up in disappointment as he let out a breath. "How about...this?" And he let her touch his face. His cheek was warm, or her hand was just too cold. "Better?"

She pursed her lips, feeling the beginning of a smile as Harry closed the distance between them. He pressed his forehead to hers. And when she silently gave him permission with a single look, he leaned in and captured her mouth with his own.

He tasted like memories, like winter, like the forest that nearly killed them. And when he drew back, her eyes stayed shut until she could finally breathe again.

"You believe me now?" he asked, brushing his thumbs over her flushed cheeks.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, giggling. "You stupid bastard."

Harry started laughing, too. Then, he kissed her forehead and whispered in her ear, "Did you miss me?"

She wrapped her arms around his waist and gave a nod, her face buried into his wet shirt.

"Good. I missed you, too," he said, contently.

She pulled back. "Did you get your memory back when I kissed you on the cliff? Was that why you jumped?"

"No." He tucked her hair behind her ears. "I jumped because I loved you and couldn't bear the thought of losing you. I told you, didn't I? When you truly love someone, the love won't go away."

Y/N swore her heart grew so big her whole chest might explode. She smiled and pressed her fingers against his shoulder, his chest, touching all the places she'd missed. This was too good to be true. She needed to be reminded that he was real.

On her tiptoes, she kissed him softly at first, and then with an ache inside her, she pushed herself closer against him. His hands pressed against her ribs as if he wanted to leave little bruises everywhere his fingertips rested. Maybe for all the same reasons. To be certain that she was real.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he said, his eyebrows sloped down at the edges. "I don't want to hurt you anymore."

"You won't," she said.

He shook his head; he didn't believe her, either. "I don't want you to be afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid. Never of you," she claimed despite a wretched knot of fear growing in her gut. She was afraid of so many things, and at one point, that fear would consume her. But until then, she could pretend it didn't exist.

She folded herself into him as his arms draped around her waist, his breath hot at her neck. He placed his lips at the soft place below her ear and ran his fingers through her dripping hair, warming her skin with his.

"So you remember everything?" she asked after a long hug.

"Yeah," he told her, pulling back. His eyebrow arched, reminding her of the playful side of him she hadn't seen in so long. "I also remember you telling me that you were in love with Lance."

"Did I?"

"You did, Your Majesty," he teased. "You said we went on this excursion because Lance was sick and you had to save him."

Y/N pressed her fist against her mouth and nose as she chortled. "We're doing this for you, stupid! You were going to die."

Harry blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"When Mary messed with your memories, she'd taken away many years of your life and hers. So we had to find the lake." Y/N's smile dropped as she looked over her shoulder. "This lake. It was the only chance to reverse the spell and save you."

When she turned back to him, a grateful smile had taken over his face. "You did that for me?"

She lifted her shoulders. "And for Isolde. This water could save lives."

Harry scoffed as he placed his hands on his hips. "Just lie and say you did it only for me."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Fine. I did it only for you."

"As you should." He happily booped her nose. "Also, Lance?"

She knew he wouldn't let this topic go no matter how hard she tried to avoid it. So she sucked in a breath. "Promise you won't be mad?"

"I'll never get mad at you."

"Except for that one time you tried to kill me."

He lifted both of his hands. "That wasn't me, but good point."

Y/N laughed nervously before she thinned her lips, looking for the right words. This was much harder than she'd thought.

"I slept with Lance."

Harry's smile reduced to a firm line as soon as he heard the confession. The way he gaped at Y/N made her believe he could never trust her again. The ball of fear within her grew, fluttering inside her chest, becoming a hammer that could smash her apart.

"Oh, wow," was his response.

She took his hand and squeezed. "You promised you wouldn't be mad."

"I'm not," he told her. "I just...wasn't expecting that. I thought you were going to say you'd kissed him..."

"It was only once," she mumbled.

Harry regarded her with a sad look that made her wonder if he was feeling sorry for him, her, both of them, or Lance. She decided not to question as he cupped her cheeks again, lifting her face. "It's fine, darling. I understand how hard it must have been for you. I couldn't be there."

"I thought you were dead."

"I know."

His chest rose with each breath, his flat green eyes so wretchedly deep and dark that she could tell there was disquiet in him. There was more he wanted to say, questions he wanted to ask. She almost reached up on her tiptoes and forestalled him with her lips. She could blot out his thoughts, swallow down his worry and make it untrue. But right before she could find out what was on his mind, they were interrupted by a rustling sound coming from the trees. She clung onto his arms when the moonlight deer stepped out of the shadow.

Its eyes shone like two silver coins dropped into a black pool. It spoke with the melodic voice of a woman, "Come with me, Saviour. I'll show you the way out of here."

"Wait," Y/N said, stepping around Harry to get to the creature. "Are you the witch in the story? Did you die here?"

Silence.

"Please answer me. I need to have an explanation for these visions I've been having."

"Those are memories from your past life," said the deer. "You, my Queen, is a descendant of the first High King."

"I know."

"And blood calls to blood," the deer said. "King Lokesh. He was in love with the daughter of the moon."

The shadow man, Y/N thought. The witch's lover was the King.

"He failed her, though. His one true heir and one true love had died in this lake. Lokesh had cried for days on the lakeshore until one day, he drowned himself."

A chill coursed right through Y/N. She swore she could hear a distant cry. Or perhaps it was just the wind.

"And what did you mean when you said those were memories from my past life?"

The deer didn't answer this question. It turned quietly and trailed back into the forest.

Y/N returned her gaze to Harry, who was too baffled to make a sound. She gave him a reassuring smile and laced her fingers with his. "Let's go. We must get back to the castle."

.

.

.

Lance shut the window and padded over to the fireplace where stood the young woman with the burned face.

Mary kept her head down, holding both hands against her stomach as Lance looked her up and down. It was hard to read her. She'd shown no emotions when she'd seen George Wallace's dead body lying in the snow. Now standing here alone with Lance in this room, she looked nothing more than a scared little girl.

"You must believe me, Your Majesty," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "I'm not dangerous."

"If I thought you were dangerous, we wouldn't be talking like this," he answered calmly. "I know you haven't been honest with me."

Silence.

"I have questions for you, Mary."

"Y-Yes, Your Majesty. You can ask me anything."

"Swear to me that you'll answer them honestly."

"I swear, Your Majesty. I swear on my life."

"And your sister's life."

"My sister's dead."

"Not both of them are dead."

Mary lifted her screwed up face. She seemed hesitant at first. Then, quietly, she said, "I swear."

"Good. Now tell me, did you kill George Wallace?"

"No," Mary answered without a pause. "But I know who did."

"Who?"

"Calanthe."

Lance raised an eyebrow. "Calanthe?"

"She must have sent someone here to kill him. She needed a reason to start the war."

"And so she sacrificed her most trusted advisor?"

Mary's eyes sharpened at once. "Her most trusted advisor is the Monks now. The rest of the court are just her pawns." She bit down on the words before they came out, bitter and clenched. "I'm one myself, Your Majesty."

Though Lance couldn't have guessed it, and he hated himself for that, he wasn't at all in shock to hear her confession. "Why did she send you here?" he asked, stunned by how calm he sounded even though his thoughts were all tangled.

"I must convince Queen Y/N to travel to the North Mountain to find the lake."

"Which doesn't exist?"

"It does exist, Your Majesty. But only Queen Y/N can find it."

"Blood calls to blood," Lance murmured to himself. Mary probably heard him, because she gave a quiet nod. "So Calanthe wanted Y/N to lead her to it?"

Mary bit her lip as she nodded again. "But the forest protected the Queen. Calanthe's people weren't able to find her. At least...that was what George Wallace had told me. I was supposed to see him before he..."

She never finished that sentence.

"So are Harry's life and yours really threatened or was it another lie?" Lance asked.

"It was not a lie, Your Majesty. All magic comes with a price."

Lance pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath. He settled into a chair by the fire and sat with his legs spread and hands on his knees. "I've been having these visions," he said.

Mary was quiet for a moment. "They're real," she then told him. "They're not visions. They're memories."

The final word grabbed Lance's attention. His eyes snapped up to Mary's.

The girl somehow found the courage to take two steps nearer, her whole wretched face was visible in the firelight. "When my sister said that Queen Y/N would be the saviour, she was talking about the war between the North and the South. She predicted that there would be a war as vicious and bloody as the one that had divided one hundred kingdoms into four high courts. King Lokesh had led the war. He made a deal with the Gods, to trade his firstborn for victory. But...he fell in love with a witch. And his selfishness had cost him her life."

"The witch in the story."

"Yes. Lokesh failed to fulfil his agreement so he died an unknown death, and the Gods punished the people with unchanged seasons. That's why the North is buried in snow all year round, and its ruler would always face a tragic death and have to carry a life full of regrets. Queen Y/N, however, is the exception. Lokesh started the war. And she's going to end it."

Lance pondered over those words for a long moment. "But...what did it have to do with me? It doesn't explain the things I've seen."

"Do you know...do you know about reincarnation?"

"What?"

"Reincarnation," Mary repeated. "It's the belief that the soul, upon death of the body, comes back to earth in another body or form. It's usually the ones with unfinished business in their previous lives. They're given a second chance to fix their mistakes. Don't you find it strange? This...pull between you two? Does it sometimes feel like...like...like you've known her forever?"

Lance went numb for a second, then he burst out laughing. Mary gaped at him, speechless and appalled.

"Why should I believe you after you just admitted to being a spy?" he asked.

She swallowed. "You don't have to believe me, Your Majesty. But...I decided to confess because I'd realised that I couldn't keep doing it anymore. I'd die no matter what. Calanthe doesn't care about me." Mary buried her face into her hands and took an exasperated inhale. "My fate is bound to the Monks by my fire tattoo. I must die when they die. And I want them to. I want Queen Y/N to win this war."

A knock on the door pulled their attention away from the conversation. Lance rose from the chair as soon as he told the person to come in.

The door creaked open, and there was Jo, who was surprised to see Mary. "Can I speak with you, Your Majesty?" she asked Lance.

Lance nodded and dismissed her with a wave, saying he'd be right out there. When she left and shut the door, he turned back to Mary, who was now as pale as a ghost.

"Please don't tell Jo," she begged.

"I'm not going to," he said, holding his hands together behind his back. "But take my advice. Never keep secrets from the people you care about."

She said nothing, just staring at her feet. So he walked out without giving her a second glance. A lot would have changed tonight, not only for the two of them, but for every single soul in this castle.

.

.

.

Harry knew something had changed.

It wasn't the fact that the guards at the gate looked at him and Y/N as if they were two dead bodies washed in by the tides. It wasn't the fact that the servants whispered to each other in the corridor as he passed by. It wasn't the fact that he and Y/N were the ones in filthy clothes, and yet she still looked like a Queen while he had never felt more out of place.

Something had changed, because Y/N had changed.

He didn't expect her to be the same girl he'd fallen in love with after all the trauma she'd been through. But the change wasn't mental or physical. It was her heart. It was different now.

She'd saved him. But what if in saving him, she'd lost a piece of herself that she'd never get back?

The fear deepened inside Harry the moment the door burst open and Lance rushed into the room. Harry didn't have to be a mind reader to understand that look.

Without exchanging a word, Lance strode straight towards Y/N, who immediately crashed into his arms. Like two pieces of a broken heart, they held each other, scared that one or both of them might fade away as soon as they let go.

Y/N opened her mouth, about to say something, and suddenly Harry was terrified of what she was going to say. What she would admit in the heat of the moment.

But Lance didn't let her speak. He turned to a guard. "Call for the Russos and the Queen's lady-in-waiting," he ordered.

"Lance–" Y/N started.

Lance cut her off by telling Harry, "Welcome home," and took in Y/N's haggard appearance one last time before he left. Just as fast as he'd arrived.

Y/N clenched her fist against her heart. Devastated maybe. They'd been gone for two weeks which had felt like months. This wasn't the warm welcome she'd expected from someone she was going to marry.

"Y/N!"

Jo burst into the room, holding up her skirts as she ran towards Y/N and almost tackled the Queen to the floor. Kenny and Stefan were here, too. They were thrilled to hear that Harry had got his memories back and that they'd found the lake. All Y/N had to do was tell one guard at the gate and now the entire castle had found out.

She took her time answering their friends' questions and asked them questions about themselves. Harry knew she wanted to ask about Lance as well, but she didn't want to bring him up, or perhaps just not in front of Harry.

"We don't remember the way back to the lake," Y/N told Jo, Kenny and Stefan. "I tried to draw the map in my head as the deer led us back to the horses. I wanted to come back with our army to get the water, but as soon as we were out of the woods, neither of us could remember the directions. They probably don't want to be found."

"They?" asked Kenny.

Y/N didn't answer.

Harry knew she hadn't told him everything. After all, she was the only one who could communicate with the deer. He'd been too happy to be with her again to ask about it before. But after seeing her with Lance, it occurred to Harry that he might know much less than he'd thought he had.

Why was he anxious? They had returned home safely. There was no reason for him to feel like he was more likely to lose her now than before. Harry kept wondering to himself while watching Y/N laugh with the others.

She put her arms around his neck. He held her tightly, kissed her rose-shaped lips and pressed his nose into her hair. He didn't think she knew how much she upended him. The question he'd almost asked at the lake still lingered on his lips. He couldn't say it.

With her holding him, the dark of the forest felt so far away. Her fingertips blotted out the cold of the winter. She was the only thing that made him whole. It was better this way.

But Y/N, my love, how do you feel about him?

.

.

.

Y/N could not believe it.

She was fuming. Her thoughts were racing. She marched straight to the meeting room and demanded the guards to let her in. A queen should not be excluded from a meeting with her own court.

All courtiers rose as she entered, while Lance stayed seated in his high chair at the end of the long table. He only acknowledged her with a single glance.

"An emissary was killed in my castle and I had to hear it from my lady-in-waiting?!" Y/N shouted at the men in the room. Silence ensued. Frantic looks were exchanged.

"I told everyone not to tell you," Lance spoke, his voice as calm as she remembered.

Suddenly, she hated him.

She hated him for his attitude. For how cold he'd been to her when he'd seen her earlier in the throne room. Perhaps he wasn't happy to see her alive. Perhaps he'd been hoping that she'd been dead so he could take the throne.

Deep down, unfortunately, she knew he wasn't like that.

Every single time she tried to make him the villain so she wouldn't feel bad about what she'd done with him, those memories would start creeping back into her mind. She couldn't make sense of her own feelings then, yet she knew at that moment, when he'd kissed and touched her, her feelings for him had been true.

"You'd just gone through hell and back, my love," Lance said. "How did you expect me to expect you to take that news?"

Y/N scoffed as she crossed her arms. "So instead you expected me to take my rest and leave the fate of my kingdom to you men?"

"No." He lifted his shoulders. "We were just going to help you make the final decision. However, I'm glad you could join us."

Y/N furiously flopped down into the other high chair as Lance flicked his fingers for a general to continue speaking. When they locked eyes for the second time, Lance's expression relented like a silent apology.

.

.

.

"Lance, wait!" Y/N called as she chased after him after the meeting.

A lot didn't sit right with her, but the one thing she cared the most at the moment was what had happened to Lance in the two weeks she'd been away. He didn't seem like an entirely different person. This was the same Lance she'd met. But now that she was more familiar with the one who would spend long nights in her chamber and chase away her nightmares, she couldn't bear seeing him this way.

"What do you think we should do with Mary?" she asked, falling into steps beside him.

"Nothing. She's still helpful, and we still have no proof that she did it," Lance said as he marched on with his hands behind his back.

Y/N thought about leaving him alone as he didn't seem to want to talk. The problem was she needed to talk to him. Despite what he thought was going through her mind right now, she did care about him a lot.

"How...how have you been?" she ventured.

He gave her a quick glance, his eyes distant and nonchalant. "Tired," he said. "Anxious. Angry."

"Oh..."

"Not because of you."

Y/N came to a halt at the same time Lance stopped and turned to face her. "Tired because I haven't slept for days. Anxious because George Wallace is dead, and the innocent people of Isolde would have to pay that price. And angry because..."

She waited for him to finish, but he hesitated. "Of Calanthe?" she asked.

His mouth twitched as he shook his head. "Not just Calanthe. But don't worry about it."

"So Calanthe...and me?"

"No."

Just as Y/N thought he wasn't going to continue, he did. "And me."

Y/N bit her lip. "I'm sorry."

Lance chuckled as he gave a wave of dismissal. "As I said, don't worry about it."

It was hard not to worry when he'd been acting strange ever since she returned. She'd thought he'd be happy to see her, because she knew for a fact that she'd almost burst into tears when she'd seen him.

"I wish you'd be honest with me for once." The words slipped out before she could think twice.

Slowly, Lance spun around, his grey eyes dark and troubled. "I have not lied to you," he claimed. "Not even once."

Y/N folded her arms over her chest. "Not lying isn't the same as being honest."

Lance let out a scoff, running his fingers through his raven hair. Y/N lifted her chin as he came closer. So close it unsettled her.

"If you need me to spell it out," he said roughly, "you're either a fool or a liar yourself."

She swallowed a lump in her throat, trying not to let her anxiety take control. "How about you tell me what's happening to you and I'll tell you what I am?"

Lance considered her, his mouth curled to its favoured side. "The reason I'm angry at myself," he said, slowly, "is because there's going to be a war, and I know for a fact that I'm going to trade my life for yours."

Y/N stiffened at the answer. She parted her lips, unable to make a sound. Her reaction seemed to have amused Lance more than it hurt him. He cocked his head to a side and smiled mischievously. "So what are you, Y/N? A liar or a fool?"

Y/N thinned her lips, still speechless. She was rearranging her thoughts, trying to form proper sentences that wouldn't leave her looking stupid, when suddenly, Lance lifted a hand and flicked a strand of hair over her shoulder. Her body grew tense as he breathed out a laugh. "And since you want the truth, well," he said, without looking at her. "I love you."

"What?"

"I love you," he repeated, this time, with confidence.

The lump in her throat grew bigger as she tried to gulp it down. When she spoke, she almost didn't recognise her own feeble voice. "But? Finish your sentence."

"That was my sentence, silly." He grinned tentatively.

"There's always the second half," she mumbled.

It was sad but true. Not many people had told her those words without something else to it.

A frown transformed Lance's face as he stood taller, his jawlines sharpened in the firelight. "I love you," he said. "I know you don't love me in return. But some people do love without conditions, Y/N." There was a pause before a shadow of a melancholic smile crossed his regal features. "Perhaps I broke your heart in a different life," he said, "and now it's your payback."

She wasn't sure what he meant, yet she didn't get a chance to ask. The pressure against her lungs made it hard for her to breathe let alone speak. Without waiting for her response, Lance spun on his heels and left, taking long strides until he disappeared into the shadow.

[nowoyas]

Floriography 3

First - Previous - Next 

A/N: sleeby and sick pls take this i’m gonna go back to dying now

Chapter Summary: You reconvene with Izuku, and then prepare to leave for your trip.

Warnings: shitty dad... TWO

Word count: 3200+

~

Izuku finds you easily, with practiced speed thanks to how often he's had to find you to send you letters (and now, teleport himself to you). 

"Everything alright, my prince? I hope my father wasn't too... himself, he has a tendency towards the rude." You worry your bottom lip as Izuku takes a moment to breathe.

"No, it's okay," he says finally, exhaling slowly. "I've dealt with worse, as much as I hate to admit it."

"What did he have to say? You weren't gone terribly long..."

"Just to repeat himself and say it's my head if you get hurt. Oh, but he gave his approval for the trip, so long as your knight accompanies us as well! My father will likely want to inspect him ahead of time to ensure it isn't a plot after my head and that he's truly competent enough to be in a royal detail–no offense, my father requires absolute control when it comes to details, especially matters of safety–but I've no doubt that such a small condition will be accepted. He probably expects something like that, honestly."

You frown. "I see. So some form of loyalty check... Eijirou, think you're up for all that?"

He snaps to attention, nodding. "Of course, your highness."

You want to smile, be excited for the chance to get out of the palace and see parts of the world, but your mood remains soured from earlier. "Well, I'm glad you're not too bothered, at least."

"What about you?"

You flinch, the tiniest gasp leaving your throat. "Um?"

"Sorry, I just... I noticed how upset you looked when your dad was... you know..."

You rub your elbows, sighing. "I'm fine. I just... forgot my place for a bit, is all. Let myself get... snappy, or whatever."

"Oh, please don't say that," Izuku says, hand shaking slightly before it settles on yours. "I don't think you really did anything wrong."

"Don't tell my father, but I'm actually pretty good with a sword," you blurt, flustered at the sudden touch. "I doubt I'm anything special, but I've been learning in secret since childhood. Eijirou has been teaching me a lot. And I really am good with magic. I don't want you thinking bringing me along on this is going to be some mistake, or you'll just be protecting me the whole time. I don't think that would be fair to either of us."

He smiles. "Well then, you'll have to show me once we've left on our trip. Most of the days will be spent traveling, with frequent breaks, so I'm sure we'll find the time! If you'd like, I-I could even give you a few pointers? That is, if you're interested in improving..."

"I'd love that, actually! Eijirou, you won't tell, right?"

Eijirou nods, flashing you a smile and a thumbs up. "No need to worry about me, your highness. I'm sure you'll learn better from your future husband, anyway!"

Your cheeks tinge pink at the thought. "R-right! Well, um, I should probably ask... When, exactly, should I expect to be leaving for this trip by?"

"Ah, it begins a week from now. I'll send you a letter tomorrow with the kind of clothes you'll want to have prepared and how much is recommended to bring along, though I expect my father will want to gift you something, if for no other reason than a show of power."

You nod pensively. "Alright. I'll be sure to notify my parents and arrange for everything I'll need. Thank you for including me in this, Izuku."

One of his hands finds yours, strikingly warm and the rough skin contrasting against how smooth your own is. You suppose that's likely the result of his combat training. "I... If it's alright, may I..."

You swallow thickly, nodding as he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. He smiles up at you as he leans down. "Kacchan and I should be returning now, but I look forward to our next meeting, my highness." He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing an uncertain kiss against your knuckles. Your free hand rests against your chest as you blush.

"I-I look forward to hearing from you, my prince," you stammer back as he drops your hand. He gives a cute little wave before turning back to his knight. You watch as their teleport runes wash over them, waving back even after Izuku's turned his back. When they disappear, you release a sigh you'd been withholding, finally allowing yourself to properly short-circuit slightly from Izuku's kiss.

"Are you all right, your highness?" Eijirou asks, sounding nothing short of amused as you stare at your knuckles where he kissed your hand.

You snap out of it. "Yes, of course. Everything is—in order, I suppose. Yeah. I'm all right."

~

Whatever Eijirou has to do to prove his loyalty and merit, you aren't allowed to know of it. Your knight is replaced with another for a day that isn't one of his normal two (you'd insisted on giving him weekends off from following you around), and when he returns, he's got a new wound on his face that he refuses to let you heal with a bright smile. He merely tells you that his Majesty King Hisashi has deemed him fit to accompany you and your fiancé on your travels.

In the meantime, you've continued your routine of exchanging letters and flowers with Izuku, though the letters grow longer from both of you with things like hobbies, preferences, and, most recently, you've begun exchanging book recommendations. (Izuku promised to bring his favorite book along on the trip if you'll also bring yours.) Every letter has contained at least one paragraph of talk about the upcoming trip—you, having been mostly sheltered and not having had many opportunities to explore outside the palace. He'd asked how your knight was holding up after his day being scrutinized (and failed to elaborate on what, exactly, he'd done to prove his loyalty and prowess as being up to snuff), and you'd answered truthfully.

He'd even given you pointers on things that would make the upcoming endeavor to sleep outside easier on you—both in avoiding back pain in the morning and actually falling asleep to begin with. He was kind in his advice, and truth be told, you appreciated every speck of it. (If you took separate notes, that's between you and the moon and absolutely no one else.)

The day of your departure comes all too soon and nowhere near soon enough–you're constantly vacillating between fully prepared, excited, and in absolute terror at the thought. It hasn't quite sunk in yet that you'll be spending nearly three weeks with Izuku (give or take six knights) and spending the night outside most of those nights.

With your hair all wrangled into a braid by your ever-attentive attendants and makeup foregone (you won't have the time nor the space to be applying it yourself while on the road), you slip the promised book into your bag and send off one last letter. You'd agreed to meet after having your breakfast, and you'd awoken early enough that you have plenty of time to write Izuku one final letter. It's not as though you can miss your morning letter for something like this, after all!

My dearest Izuku,

I hope the morning finds you well, and that your rest has been kind. This morning finds me bubbling with anticipation–I'm not even certain what I'm most excited for. This letter will be short–after all, I will be seeing you in person soon. I simply couldn't afford yet another shake to my morning routine; the fact that I'm not wearing makeup is both scary and thrilling enough without writing you before breakfast.

In any case, I haven't forgotten the promise we've made, and have ensured that I have with me a copy of the book for you to read. I hope you'll uphold yours as well. Eijirou and I will be seeing you soon. :)

Yours,

[Name]

You carefully blow on the last of the ink to allow it to dry, and, when you're sure it's safe to, carefully fold the paper into thirds and hold it between two fingers, searching with your heart for Izuku's distant presence.

Sending letters has gotten much easier over the time since you've met him–Izuku's runic energy always seems to seek you when you search for it, reaching out for whatever you'll send him as if he knows it's on its way. (Perhaps it's because he does.) The moment you find that familiar sensation of lemongrass and peaches, you're calling forth the energy to send the letter on its way.

After breakfast, you can hardly contain yourself. Eijirou seems to be on the same page–he finishes eating not long after, and with one final farewell (and brief lecture) from your parents, you're seeking out Izuku's energy once again for a teleport, this time directly.

You find it without issue. You grab Eijirou's wrist to direct him, and then both of you are off, runes warping your vision and carrying you away to the neighboring kingdom.

~

You land softly, two warm hands steadying you as the runes scatter. When you open your eyes, you're met with familiar green, and you can't help but smile. "My sincerest apologies if you've been waiting long." You curtsy slightly, almost bouncing up with how light you feel. Clothes for travel are so much lighter than your daily wear! Wearing only two layers almost feels naughty. "My parents wished to bid me farewell, and my father was certain to give me a lecture on the usual. Make responsible decisions, act as before one of your stature, stay in line, et cetera."

Izuku laughs warmly. "He's probably never going to quit with that, you know."

"I know, and it's infuriating."

"If it's any consolation, you'll get to relax a bit after we leave. First..." He frowns. "His Majesty wants to speak with you before we go. I don't know what about, so all I can really advise you is to let him think you consider him above you. He's very particular about control."

"I see. Thanks for the advice. Where should I...?"

"Ah, let me lead you!" He glances over his shoulder. "F-fill in Princess [name]'s knight while we're gone!"

Izuku is careful in the way he leads you down the hall, walking a measured distance from you without really leaving your side, and honestly, his nervous energy is starting to feed you nervous energy.

To your mild surprise, you're not led to the throne room or anything of that matter, but rather, what appears to be King Hisashi's personal study. Izuku pats your shoulder comfortingly, staring at his father's back for just a moment before he speaks.

"Your Majesty," he says, and wow you hate hearing him call his father that, "Princess [name] has arrived. I've brought her to speak with you like you requested."

"Thank you. You may leave now. I'll send her on to join you once I've finished my chat with her."

You hate the way he doesn't bother looking at either of you. You hate the way he stands tall, as if he's trying to minimize your presence in the room, and the way his voice leaves not a smidgen of room for any contrary thought.

Most of all, you hate the way he's so obviously a king before he's a father.

Izuku bites his lip for a moment. His hand lingers on your arm just a moment longer as he speaks. "Yes, your Majesty."

And just like that, your fiancé has left, leaving you to stand there, alone, with King Hisashi.

"I apologize for my unsuitable attire, your Majesty," you say evenly amid the silence. "Had I known you'd request to speak with me before my departure, I would have come dressed for an audience." 

"For this time, at least," he begins, still not bothering to look at you, "I am willing to let that go."

This time, he says, as if this is in any way your fault. As if he can expect you to always be prepared for an audience with the king, even though you were told you'd be leaving immediately for your trip once you arrived and things were set.

You remain silent.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I've requested to see you, Princess."

"You'd be correct, your Majesty."

"The answer should be obvious, shouldn't it?" His tone is condescending. Like you didn't bring it up. "You're to be my daughter in a few months, and yet we've hardly spoken."

"That's true, your Majesty." Keep a level head. You're speaking to the most notoriously ill-tempered king in history. Keep a level head.

"I was... surprised when Izuku suggested your accompaniment during his travels. It's rare that he ever requests anything, you see."

"Izuku did?" You raise an eyebrow. But, you'd thought... "I was under the impression that it was your request, your Majesty."

"Did he tell you that?" Hisashi shakes his head as though he's disappointed, though you couldn't fathom why. "I do wish he'd learn to be up front with his desires. He came to me requesting permission to invite you along and insisting that he'd take care of any and all negotiations necessary with your parents to make it happen, though I'll admit he had very good reasoning for it, as he tends to do."

You nod, clasping your hands in front of you politely as you try to get a read on this man. He's impervious, if you're being honest. The way he speaks is consistently final in a way you don't understand, as if every sentence is meant to finish the conversation, and he hardly spares you a glance when he speaks. Aside from the occasional moments in which he dares to give you just a glimpse of body language, he seems perfectly neutral, staring ahead out his window as if he's not actively having a conversation.

"If I might ask a question, your Majesty?"

Oh, that actually gets his attention. He turns his whole head to you, dark eyes searching your face curiously. "Interesting. No one ever asks me questions. I'm intrigued; go ahead."

"What made you decide to choose me as Izuku's betrothed? There's hardly any tensions between our kingdoms in comparison to other neighboring kingdoms, who surely have better suited princesses than I. My parents said that you were the one who approached them about this arrangement, so clearly you had a reason for choosing our kingdom and me over the others. I simply can't fathom what that reason is. Your Majesty."

A smile flitters across his lips, which you get the sense is a rarity in itself. He turns back to the window, gesturing for you to stand beside him. You take the place he silently demands of you, uncertain as to what he's trying to do. "What do you see out this window, my dear?"

His dear? You want to laugh. Still, you peer out the window with curious eyes. It's angled just perfectly so that you can see the preparations for departure taking place below–Izuku is speaking with Eijirou and the other knights, though from this distance, you can only guess as to what.

"I see... Izuku speaking with the knights that have been chosen to accompany and guard us on this journey."

"What about? Does Izuku seem confident? Does he seem like a ruler to you?"

You bite your lip. "Well... It's impossible to determine the subject matter, though I can assume he's instructing them in finishing preparations for our departure, or perhaps he's reminding them of our itinerary. I'm also too far away to see Izuku's face or hear his voice, so how he's acting is all up to conjecture."

"Humor me. How do you think he's addressing the knights?"

"If it's Izuku... He's addressing them as a prince, I suppose. One who is perhaps unsure of himself, but refuses to let that show in front of most others." You pause. "I thought this during our first meeting, but he speaks the way I'd imagine a second son to speak, rather than the heir to the throne. Not that I believe that to be a bad thing."

"Correct. And what do you make of your fiancé?"

So many questions. You have to wonder where he's going with this. "It's hard to say for certain, since we haven't had much opportunity to spend time together, but... I know, at least, that Izuku is an extraordinarily kind person. I have been afforded plenty of respect, as I'm sure you can imagine, but I've never been shown compassion before speaking with Izuku. Where arranged marriages are concerned, I don't believe I can imagine a more ideal future husband."

"And yet, what good is kindness to a king? Will compassion win Izuku any wars? Will being kind gain Izuku any respect as a king?"

"I think he'll be a well-loved king, known for showing humanity to his subjects despite his station." Your tone is clipped, eyes turning sharp as you begin to understand what direction King Hisashi is taking this in. "I fail to see why this means I must be his wife."

"Things like 'compassion' and 'humanity' won't make my son a king, Princess [name]. All they will make is a royal doormat."

"Your son will make a wonderful king when you have passed," you force out through gritted teeth. Maintain your composure. Keep a level head.

King Hisashi chuckles as if you've said something funny, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "Oh, he will. You were chosen as his wife because my own wife has informed me that you will make my weak son into a proper king. I expect you to do so, and I think you'll find that what I expect happens sooner or later."

Oh, it is so very hard not to glare at him. So hard, in fact, that you don't bother trying. You level your best glare at King Hisashi, hands clenched into fists at your sides. "I think you'll find that your son's 'weakness' is the result of being raised with no room for growing into his own will."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, it is." Yeah, that's right, you fucking said it. Adrenaline bum rushes your veins as you make brief eye contact with the king.

"And how do you plan on raising your son, when the time comes?"

You raise your chin. No backing down now. "That is a conversation I will have to have with Izuku. However, our child will be allowed to treat us as parents."

King Hisashi hums thoughtfully as he gazes out over the courtyard. "I simply want what's best for my son. So long as you make him into the strong king I know he can be, feel free to raise my grandson however you wish."

"I won't be making Izuku into anything," you hiss out, "and I don't need your approval on how to raise my future children, your Majesty."

Before Hisashi can deliver another cool, collected, demanding response, you turn to exit the room, sparing barely a glance to him so that you can pause and curtsy. As if he's even looking at you to see it. "Thank you for answering my question. Izuku and I have travels we simply must be getting to."

Without another word, you exit King Hisashi's study, two firm fists clenched starkly at your sides.

Taglist: @dragonempress123​ @imabootywarrior​ @the-secret-thief​ @venusianpink​ @chickynn​ @lianatriestosurvive​ @tooloudarts​ @sapid-rose​ @xxangelpridexx​ @birds-have-teeth​ @icythotsenpai​ @warmchoccymilk​ @wesparklebitch​ @izoodles​ @fujimoribaby​ @my-bnha-things​ @pastel-mood-hours​

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.15

Jealousy Incarnate

11/09/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 6,639

Warnings: language, angst, pining, fluff, jealousy, confused Peter Parker

A/N: Oh man, I’ve had a WEEK. My pain flared up out of nowhere and then I just couldn’t focus my brain. It was hell to get this chapter out, not because I didn’t want to but I just couldn’t. It rarely happens but I just couldn’t concentrate. Anyway, I hope you like this one. Things are...changing. Let me know what you think! As this story gets so many comments, I cannot reply to all of them but I DO read them all. I will try and respond to some of them. I love y’all so much. You mean the world to me. If you happen to reblog, thanks for helping me spread my work! xoxo

TAGS ARE CLOSED FOR THIS STORY!

You didn’t know you could be this angry. This hurt. This…jealous?

The festering boil that Maggie’s constant mention had brought, you thought, had been done away with.

True to his word, Steve did everything in his power to show you that it was you and only you.

As you’d begun your descent through the castle's pretty dark oak hallways, warm wooden walls lined with portraits and colorful tapestries, you’d almost made up your mind to pull him aside and just give in.

Love him as you were meant to. As you’ve been wanting to do.

You've been feeling less and less apprehensive with his Majesty and you’re just about ready to welcome him back into your bed.

Back into your life, properly. As your husband.

You still need to tell him about the baby too. Another month gone and you still haven’t told him, and your belly is just starting to swell.

You reach down and give it a quick caress over your dress, fingers tracing the delicate and ornate embroidery of the firm black bodice. The orange silk shirt underneath with it’s ruffled and off the shoulder neckline keep you cool in the last heatwave of autumn before true winter comes. Does it snow here? You aren’t sure.

The gray skirt is light weight, flowing around you like a gossamer cloud with only the faintest hints of black thunder within.

Around your neck you’re wearing your locket. Carefully you reach up to fix it as you head for the garden, where you know his Majesty will be.

He goes every day to walk the space, wondering if today will be the day you come down, or so he says.

You’ve tried to catch glimpse of him in the weeks past and you do see him wandering around in the afternoons.

Today you’re sure is the day to forgive him. Truly forgive him. For everything. Today, you and his Majesty can start all over again. Today is the day that your new life begins.

Turning into the garden, your feet stutter as you watch his Majesty walk towards the hedge and flower maze entrance, his wide shoulders relaxed. He has his hands held behind his back, but his face is happy, smiling, not a care in the world it seems.

Not even for you.

Despite his proclamations of coming down here to wait for you, there he goes, walking side by side with a blonde woman who stands taller and firmer than you will ever be. Her body even through the luxurious diamond blue gown she’s wearing is clearly fit and able.

You’re no slouch but her body is ridiculous. Carefully crafted protection. You shouldn’t compare. You shouldn’t do it, but your body is swelling. Your breasts are already growing larger. The fatty places, already soft and jiggly are thickening more.

She reaches out to grab his Majesty’s bicep and gives it a squeeze as she laughs, and he laughs with her.

He’s laughing with her!

You’re not expecting the tightness in your chest at the sight of him smiling and laughing with someone else. Not pulling away when she touches him the way he’d done so many times with you.

You can still remember trying to reach for his hand on your wedding day and he’d quickly pulled his hand out of reach.

You see red and huff. Fed up.

He turns to talk to her but then as you step back, your movement seems to catch his eye.

Quickly as you can, while his smiling eyes are taking a split second to recognize you, you turn and hurry back towards the castle, moving around the garden gate and out of sight, a flurry of voile skirt following in your wake.

You hear him before you see him, heart pounding with betrayal.

Suddenly he’s on you, his hand around your wrist as you turn to look at him, confusion and hurt in your eyes.

“Y/N…” He says in thick desperation that forms a lump in your throat. “You came.”

He smiles. And you hate him all over again.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Come with me.” Nat urges you, moving to pull you up from bed.

“Nat, I’m not even dressed yet.” You complain, moving towards the basin in the corner of your room where you’ve taken to running every morning. Sometimes after midday as well.

This baby is not making your pregnancy easy.

Nat sees where you’re headed and her excitement fades as her brow furrows instead.

“You okay?” She releases your hand and instead wraps an arm around your lower back.

“I’m fine.” You chuckle, pushing her arm away.

She and grandmother have been fussing over you since she arrived, watching your every move, every pain, every dizzy spell.

“Just a bit sick to my stomach. Nothing out of the ordinary.” You assure her and stop by your table instead to pick at your breakfast.

You stare at the jam in agony, wishing you could take a bite of the strawberry delicacy that his Majesty had sent up for you two mornings ago. It was better than the last and you wish you could eat it, but the baby does not like it and so, it sits there. Ignored.

You eat only a bit of bread. Then carefully raise the cup of wormwood and mint tea, suggested by grandmother for its calming properties.

Scrunching your nose, you sip it, and relish when your stomach settles a little. The taste is not exactly your favorite, but you’ll gladly sacrifice your taste buds to stop being sick every five minutes.

“Are you sure? I can fetch Grandmother.” Nat offers, adopting the name you’ve been calling the old woman since she arrived.

“I’m sure. I’ll feel better when I can eat. I’m hungry but at the same time, I cannot stand to look at food.” You sigh, missing your jams and jellies.

“Well, let’s get you dressed.” She hurries over to your wardrobe to look at your dresses and opts for something simple.

A white gown made of flowing light fabric. It kind of looks like cotton but not quite. It’s minimal compared to the other gowns you’ve worn around the castle. Just white. No design. Only a simple ruffle around the neck to accent your bust.

“Why?” You plead without whining.

“Because I have something to show you. Something that you must see. No exceptions. I also have something for you when we get down there.” She offers ominously.

“Down where?” You ask, moving to her as she throws your dress over the back of the opposite chair at your table then holds her hands out and waits for you to stand still to strip you.

“You’ll see.” She’s grinning like a cat, and you’re suddenly terrified.

It turns out to be the garden that Nat wants to take you to.

Fresh air is just what you need, and you find that your stomach settles completely once you’re out in the open space.

“This was a good idea.” You smile, feeling at ease and better than you’ve felt since you got back.

Of course, his Majesty is always on your mind. He’s the whole reason you’ve come back.

He’s the last piece of your puzzle. The reason you don’t sleep soundly.

And yet, he’s your husband. How can someone that’s already yours drive you this mad?

“I’m glad you think so.” Nat smiles beside you, her arm wrapped around yours as she leads you down the familiar path.

The gardens are alive with the end of the season. Dragonflies glisten with pearlescent wings, birds and bees fill the air, whizzing by in the comforting breeze. The sun pimples your skin as you soak it up and your hand subconsciously moves over your still normal tummy, excited to give your baby healthy sunshine.

The air is fragrant. The endless flowers, which you now notice have been left to grow wild, paint the garden in vibrant colors.

He listened. You can’t help but think. Because you’d told his Majesty that your only criticism with the beautiful space is that everything was too well kept. Too structured.

Now the gardens have begun to resemble the wildflowers you’d napped in on rolling green hills back in Malibia.

This garden…most of it anyway, makes you feel like you’re home.

You make to turn to the left, away from Margaret’s pavilion which his Majesty had banned you from using—the only spot in this lovely place that makes you feel like an intruder still…unwelcome—but Nat pulls you to a stop and turns towards the right.

“Let’s go this way. We never go this way.” She insists, forcing her manipulation to sound like genuine pleading. You can see right through her though.

“Because there isn’t anything over there, except a place that I’m not allowed to go.” You sigh and move once more towards the left, pulling your arm from Nat's when she doesn’t move.

You get three steps before there’s a deep sigh. “Wait!”

Stopping, you turn to look at the wily Goddess and she rolls her eyes, reaching into her dress pocket to pull out a thick piece of parchment.

“What’s that?” You wonder, suddenly nervous because you know very well what it is.

“I wanted to see your face when you see it, but I suppose I should just do it his way. Here.” She offers the parchment to you looking disappointed.

“His way?” You repeat, confuse and moving back towards her.

Taking the folded piece, you open it up and stare down at his Majesty's familiar hand.

My Darling,

He begins, and your heart beats crazy.

I understand why you cannot see me. Rather, why you won’t see me. I have done nothing but make you feel as if you do not belong here. Such is my crime.

You frown, hating the reminder.

I didn’t know what you would come to mean to me. How could I when you came out of nowhere and struck me down like a bolt of lightning? I want you to know that I wholeheartedly regret the things I said…and did. You didn’t deserve them. I was a fool. I wish I could take them back. All of them.

Especially our wedding night. My heart is raw knowing that I hurt you that way. I love you. I can’t believe I…

From this day forth, I will do everything in my power to make sure that you know just how much you mean to me.

You’re chewing your lip furiously, anxious and somehow grateful for the words he’s written but only time will tell how well he can keep that promise.

This is your home, sweetheart. You’re my one and only from now until our dying day. Forgive me for making you feel as if you had to compete with someone else.

The funny thing is, you can see the intent behind his words even though he only half means them.

You can tell that he means them in the sense that you are his future. He loves you as his current wife. The woman who will be the mother of his children though, he doesn’t know that yet.

In that sense, he means it, but he also meant every word about Margaret. He loved her to death and when she died, he fell apart. He ceased to function.

She had a part of him that you can never touch. Not in the same way and you feel slightly sad that he feels he must bury that down to make you happy.

He should make you happy just as you want to make him happy, but that doesn’t mean you like the way he’s going about it. You’d much rather he be open with you, no matter how painful hearing about Margaret might be.

Maybe so long as he doesn’t compare you, then you’ll be okay?

I hope this small gesture will prove to you that I mean what I say. I’ve instructed Nat to take you.

You’ve been walking down the pathway towards the opening with the pavilion and suddenly it springs out of the greenery.

You gasp, completely thrown by the fact that Margaret’s red daisies are gone and in their place are what must be hundreds and hundreds of pale pink and peach peonies.

They rustle in the breeze, wafting sweet fragrance towards you threatening to knock you off your feet with how much you want to swoon.

With shallow breath, a gasp of air you hadn’t realized you’d been depriving yourself of, you look back down at the letter.

For the one that I crushed. I am the biggest moron in the twelve Kingdoms.

I love you, Y/N. Believe me or not, it does not change the fact that it’s true. Never forget that I am waiting.

I will wait forever if I must, patiently. Longingly. Desperately waiting for you to love me and this time I will gladly let you.

Yours forever,

His Majesty King Steve G. Rogers

You don’t know what to do. You want to cry because you’re so happy, but you also want to laugh because this letter is everything you’ve wanted him to tell you. You’re angry because it isn’t in person, but you have only yourself to blame for that.

You begged him to stay away and you do still want him to keep his distance. But you wish you could look into his eyes and see if he means these things he’s writing.

“Y/N?” Nat checks, peeking around a small hedge. “You okay?”

You turn to her and nod, smiling lightly as tears glisten between your lashes but do not fall.

“I…Why couldn’t he be like this from the start?” You sigh, looking down at your letter and then looking up at the peonies standing in pleasing contrast against the dark stone of the little build.

Nat sighs. “I think he wanted to.”

You look at her, not believing her one bit. “But…”

“I think that’s exactly what made him mean. Steve has always been one for commitment. For duty and honor and marrying you was not exactly his choice. I’m not saying that he isn’t glad he did it, but the council pushed him to marry quickly. Before he was ready to let go of Maggie.

“I don’t think he was expecting to like you as much as he did. To love you. Truly love you and also still love her. They made promises to each other when they thought that they had forever and then forever was gone. But he still made those promises and ever a man of his word, he tried to keep himself from giving in to you.” Nat smiles at you, reaching over to rub your back.

“So, what you’re saying is that he was purposefully cruel because he was in love with me and didn’t want to be?” You repeat for her.

Nat’s smile turns apologetic and you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I don’t know if I can forgive him, Nat. I have had no experience in love. I was a virgin when we married. I…Thor was my first kiss. My first real one that wasn’t taken by force.” Some of the men of your village were disgusting and only a knife to the throat could deter them. “It should have been Steve. His hands should have been soft and gentle. Instead, he held me down and…”

“He knows that you need time.” Nat assures you. “But do you think you can forgive him eventually? Enough to be with him? To be his wife again?”

You lapse into silence, staring at the romantic gesture before you and notice inside the gazebo a small table has been set up with teas, biscuits, and jams.

Your heart swells, fluttering in your chest as you huff a small breath of delight.

Now that you’ve been outside for a while, you realize how hungry you are and your stomach growls loudly.

“Is he trying to overfeed me?” Your heart grows wary. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

You turn to Nat who shakes her head. “Of course not. No one but Grandmother and I know and we’re not telling anyone until you’re ready. But Y/N, you can’t keep this to yourself for long. The council will usurp Steve if he doesn’t produce an heir. You have just under five months left to announce your pregnancy and have a doctor examine you to ascertain the validity of your pregnancy.”

“I know.” You move towards the pavilion, taking in the tall steeple roof that you just now realize ends in a point made of glass. It gives view to the sky. “I just didn’t want him to love me for the baby.”

“He’s already in love with you.” Nat promises. “Baby or not. He wants you.”

“Will he be happy?” You wonder. “Truly happy? Will he regret that it isn’t with Maggie that he’s building a family? Will he love my baby as much as he would have loved hers?”

Your mouth runs on, asking the questions only your heart knows. Afraid of being second to a memory. Afraid to hear him say those words again, “Maggie wouldn’t-Maggie would-Maggie did-Maggie, Maggie, Maggie”.

“Y/N…” Nat begins.

“It’s stupid to be jealous of her. I know that.” You sit in the small padded seat and reach over to lather jam on a biscuit and take a nice big bite.

No nausea.

“When you’re ready, ask him. And I’m sure he will tell you exactly how he feels about you and your baby. His baby, Y/N.” She reminds you.

You nod. “Our baby.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s just a peek. That’s all Steve wants. Just a quick look.

He knows you came down here because Peter came to tell him.

Peter who has been moping around Steve instead of being with you and Nat as he usually is because you’ve instructed him to stay away too.

He’s right beside him now, walking silently the way the kid does.

His mouth is a different story.

“What did I do? Do you think I offended her Majesty in some way?” Peter asks, gesturing his chest over his pale green tunic. “I understand why she doesn’t want to speak with you or having you around. You were a huge ass to her. But me?”

Steve turns to glare at him, frowning as he turns back towards the smaller hidden pathway that leads to your pavilion.

“What? I didn’t do anything to make her angry.” Peter reiterates.

“No.” Steve sighs. “She might just need some space. Talk about women’s problems with Nat.”

Or tell her about things that you’d done with Thor that you didn’t want to say around Peter?

Even though Thor had assured him that he hadn’t lain with you, Steve wonders.

“You’re sure she never asked about him?” Steve questions your guard and Peter frowns at him this time.

“Why do you keep asking me?”

“I just want to be sure.” He explains. “They spent a lot of time together.”

“Your Majesty, Steve…if she wasn’t in love with you, she wouldn’t be pushing you away right now. She has to really care about you to be pissed enough to give you the cold shoulder. If she were talking to you like normal, then I think you’d have reason to worry.

“If she stops getting angry, then it means she doesn’t care.” Peter nods. “She never asked about Thor. Not to me.”

Steve stares at the kid—at twenty-two he’s not really a kid anymore but to Steve he’ll always be that massively strong little twerp that stole his shield—and realizes that he’s right.

You’re angry. Which means that you still care. Steve smiles and walks on, shifting into a semi-crouch as they get closer to a small opening in the hedge that is hidden behind a well-placed tree.

“Why are we here?” Peter asks, whispering because Steve’s crouching makes everything feel sneaky.

“I just want to see if she likes it.” Steve stops behind the tree, peeking out towards the pavilion.

All of Margaret’s red daisies are one, replaced by large, fragrant, and beautiful peonies in peach and pink shades.

His heart gives a small ache at the absence of the flower he’s associated with Maggie for almost twenty years, but then he sees you, sitting in the pavilion, smiling from ear to ear.

You’re a vision in white. No…more like a cream, with a pale green ribbon around your waist. The ruffles on your neckline accentuate your breasts and Steve’s heart gives a small ache. He wants to have you in his arms again.

Beneath him, beside him, inside you as one but properly this time. Showing you just how much he should have been worshipping your precious body from day one.

You laugh lightly, chuckling at something Nat has said then reach out to grab a biscuit and smear some jam on it.

You take a bite and the sticky pulp smears against your pretty lips.

Steve swallows hard, then his mouth falls open as he gapes at you while you lick your lips clean. Had your mouth always been so tempting?

He’d been fighting himself so hard that he had never given himself a chance to really look at you and appreciate the small details of your body. Now it’s all he sees. The way your hands elegantly curl around a tart. The gentle way you throw your head back and laugh as Nat serves your tea.

He grins when you slouch and then as if you’re remembering you shouldn’t be slouching, you suddenly sit up straight and he can see you chastising yourself silently for the slip.

He’d give anything to move to you and rub your back, assure you that you can slouch and lay back if you want to. Convention is only for when the public can see you. At least in these instances. Tiny things like this…you should be comfortable in your home.

Suddenly, he realizes that you are. Forgetting to sit up straight, laughing in the pavilion, surrounded by the flower and its fragrance that has permanently seeped into your skin and hair. You are completely at ease in this spot and he feels a pain in his gut that moves up along his ribs and into his chest carving out splinters because this should have always been yours.

He made you feel unwelcome…how can he ever make it up to you?

“Steve…?” Peter whispers, and Steve’s head inches to turn to him but when he doesn’t Steve takes the nod as assent to continue. “Do you really love her?”

For a moment, Steve can only stare at you and ask himself that same question. You lay your elbow on the back of the bench and lean your head into your hand as you take a bite once more, staring at Nat as she animatedly recounts some tale.

Your hair falls around your face, the small smile that stretches your lips is angelic. Perfection. Why did he have to wake up to your true charms so late? Why couldn’t he have given in sooner?

“I do.” He confesses.

“Because if you don’t—and you’re just using her so that you can get your heir and keep your crown-” Peter begins.

Steve rounds to look at him so quickly that Peter takes a step back, hands twitching at his side, ready to web his way out of the garden if Steve tries anything.

“There was only one time that I used her. One time. And it was to save Morgana from marrying me. I think I’ve loved Y/N from the moment I saw her standing in my throne room…in that blue dress…looking excited and terrified. And heartbroken when I told her that she could never make me happy.” Steve sighs. “Now she’s the only one who can.”

He looks at you but you’re rising, eyes brimming with recognition and excitement.

Although he can’t hear you, he sees you open your mouth in an exclamation of delight. Calling to someone out of sight.

You raise your skirts and hurry down the steps of the pavilion and hurry towards the hedge path.

Lumbering out of it comes Thor, blonde hair flowing behind him as he rushes to meet you.

The two of you collide and he can hear Thor’s laugh, booming around the space and filling it with his deep chortle. He can’t hear yours, but he can see it in your face as Thor lifts you and turns you around slowly.

Without hesitation, he leans in and kisses your lips. A quick peck that might be in friendship but the both of you shut your eyes and Steve must look away as his chest is cracked open. He wraps his hand around the backside of the tree he’s hiding behind, fingers crumbling away at the bark as he curls his hand around it in a fist.

He tears his eyes back up to the two of you, forcing himself to watch.

All that affection…over a month…

“What did I do?” Steve wonders, trying to see it all through new eyes how he pushed you and neglected you and refused to give you love.

Thor’s got his hands on either side of your waist and he’s looking down at you as if he’s examining your body and Steve hates him again. And himself. Mostly himself.

Thor steps aside and from the path comes a smaller body, thinner, long straight brown hair flying behind her as she races to embrace you.

Morgana.

Tony and Pepper follow a few steps behind but stand back to allow you and your sister to reunite.

“Steve?” Peter checks with worry in his voice. “You okay?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Your Majesty?”

“No.” Steve admits. “I’m not. I have work to do.”

Without another word, Steve pushes past him and heads back up to the castle to finish what he’d started in his office.

If he’s going to win you back, he’s going to have to really try.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re at a loss for words, arms clinging to the teen girl because her own hug is so very tight.

With wide eyes you look up at Tony and Pepper who stand there smiling at you fondly.

You can’t say what you’d like because Thor is here so instead you carefully tuck Morgana’s brown hair behind her ear and coax her head up to look at you.

“Mara…” You coo, happy to meet your sister at last. “I’m so glad you’re finally home.”

“I’ve been home.” She says, half laughing and it’s only now that you realize how distinguished she sounds. How much of a princess she really and truly is as opposed to you… “On the way here, I was telling Thor that I’d only seen you a few times a year so when you offered to take my place as King Rogers’s bride, I was so full of love and gratitude. I can never explain the complexities of how I feel to finally have you in my life once again. Thank you.”

She’s letting it all out, spilling everything in so few words. Telling you that she’s grateful that father found you and that you agreed to marry his Majesty. She’s telling you that she accepts you as her sister and that she understands that where you come from is a secret and she is going to do everything in her power to keep it for you.

You smile at her, hoping it’s with fondness that you do so.

“Tell me everything.” She suddenly gushes, and then slides to stand beside you. “Can I stay with you for a few weeks? Will Steve mind?”

Even Morgana calls him by his first name?

You nod. “You can stay. I’m sure he won’t mind. You’re my precious sister. I dare him to try.”

Morgana laughs, wrapping her arm around yours and leading you back up to the pavilion where Pepper, Tony, and Nat follow.

The next few weeks are full of time spent with your family.

Every day you wake up and have breakfast with Morgana, Thor, or Tony and Pepper until they finally have to leave to deal with kingdom business. Morgana stays. So does Thor. And because you’re not ready for anyone to know about the baby yet, you have to make even more adjustments to your day-to-day life.

Before the castle wakes, Grandmother comes to see you. Often, you’re already up, spewing your dinner into its designated basin. Nat isn’t around this early so it’s up to you to take care of yourself.

Grandmother checks your body, measures your stomach which steadily begins to curve outwards. After a month, your bump is finally large enough to notice, but only when you stand naked or when someone comes to feel it.

Nat does this every day and she has to look for it to feel the hard, little pebble that seems to be growing in your belly.

You’re so happy and it’s dimmed by only one thing.

After lunch you take your reading and writing lessons, and as he always does, his Majesty waits to cross into his council chambers as you exit the large library.

He stops, his eyes devouring the sight of you.

Every time he does it, your cheeks burn, and your neck overheats. Every day he looks bit more tortured.

Finally, after the third week of not speaking with him, he sends word with Nat.

“Another one?” You ask, looking across your room at the vases of flowers that he’s sent. There are gifts still unopened on one of your tables by the window.

They’re lovely, and you are grateful, but you’re starting to think that he may be wanting to buy your affections, so you stop opening them and just stare at the slowly growing pile.

“It’s just him telling you that he’ll be walking in the garden if you ever wish to join him. He’s getting desperate.” Nat’s lips curve into a satisfied half smile.

“Why is that funny?” You wonder, staring at the letter before moving over to your window to try and get a good look at the garden but from this side you can’t see much.

“No one has ever made him work this hard.” She tells you. “With Maggie everything was just decided. They were together one day then they were getting married. It all just fell into place.”

You sigh. “I wanted it to be that easy for us.”

“I know. But I’m glad it isn’t. I think it’ll make you both stronger in the end.” She nods.

With a sigh you turn to look at her, watching her fill your bath.

“What about you?” You demand.

“What about me?” She widens her green eyes, shaking her head as she measures your oils.

“When are you going to stop torturing Bucky and marry him?” You bite.

“Oh, no. Not you too.” Nat gripes.

“You know what? I think that’s a valid question.” A deep voice offers.

In your doorway, Bucky stands with his arms crossed over his chest.

“When are you going to marry me? I can’t keep waiting for you, my scarlet rose. I’m an eligible bachelor. I have many women who would love to be Lady Barnes.” He boasts.

“Oh, is that so?” Nat wonders, eyes narrowed to slits. “Well, then I guess you don’t need me then.”

She shrugs.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, your Majesty. I’m going to go fetch you some more hot water.” She turns and moves past Bucky, nudging him with her shoulder as she passes.

Bucky is speechless, staring at you with confusion as to how his gentle teasing went so wrong.

“What-?”

“You’re really going to just let her walk out after that?” You offer.

“Shit.” Bucky gasps, then sprints from the room after Nat. “Natasha!”

You peek out at the garden again, and this time you can see his Majesty’s wide shoulders and golden head as he waves slowly through the hedge maze in the distance, hands behind his back in contemplation.

Suddenly he looks towards your room and he stops to stare, the two of you sharing in this moment of utter pining.

Will you and he ever be as close as Nat and Bucky?

You rub your tummy and bite your lip.

How long will he wait?

~~~~~~~~~~

“Steve?” The blonde woman calls, and rounds the gate, eyes searching for him.

Steve?! She calls him, ‘Steve’?!

You stare at him, this new revelation painful.

His mouth opens and shuts as he finally sees past his own happiness to see the discomfort in your eyes.

“Oh.” The blonde says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you—You must be Y/N.”

You know damn well that she should be calling you by your title, so your heart grows a little colder and you carefully yank your hand out of his Majesty’s grip.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you.” She hurries to his Majesty’s side and curtsies before wrapping her arm around his elbow as his own brow furrows as you inch away.

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady…?” You wait for his Majesty to speak. He should be the one to introduce the two of you.

She gives his arm a squeeze.

“What?” He looks at her and realizes what’s happening. “Oh, right. Forgive me. This is Lady Sharon Carter.”

Then he hesitates.

You fix your eyes on him, wondering what the uncertainty is for.

“Sharon…” He looks at the blond whose angelic smile is soft and controlled but real and her hand is still around his elbow! She’s a true lady. Like Morgana, so put together and controlled. A golden swan before a dulled brown pigeon. “Sharon is Margaret’s cousin. We grew up together.”

Seriously? Another Carter? This is just perfect.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You tell her, speaking quickly. “If you’ll excuse me, Lady Sharon, but I don’t feel well.”

You turn and leave them, storm cloud skirts swishing along your ankles.

You’re inside when you hear the hurried steps that then break into a run before that same heated hand is around your wrist again.

“Wait, Y/N…don’t go.” His Majesty pleads.

As you turn to pull your hand free, his Majesty tightens his grip and so it pulls you closer to him so that you’re standing inches away.

“Release me.” You speak sternly.

“Why are you upset? Did I say something?” He suddenly looks deep in thought, replaying the past ten minutes in his head.

“Your Majesty, please, release me.” You beg.

“Your Maj-? Steve, please Y/N. Call me Steve.” He doesn’t release you. “Why are you trying to leave? You came down finally. Does this mean you’re ready to speak to me?”

And he sounds like he’s finally been put out of his misery. He’s so happy that your heart aches because you made him miserable this past month and you hadn’t anticipated that. You’d only wanted a break from everything he’d brought you. Pain. Humiliation. Neglect.

You hadn’t meant to hurt him in the process.

Once more you attempt to pull yourself free, but he suddenly throws his arm around your waist and pulls you flush against his chest.

“Why are you trying to leave me?” He asks, bringing his voice down low and quiet so that you and he are the only two in the hallway, the castle, the world.

“Did you get tired of waiting for me? Did you need company?” You ask of him, wondering if he’ll pick up on the jealousy you’re feeling. The sting of it is unbearable.

Being jealous of Maggie had been one thing. She’s gone. That blonde…Sharon…she’s right there. Clinging to his arm.

He sighs, a small smile tugging at his lips. The heat of his breath warms your lips and your body melts without your permission. He quickly compensates for the lack of resistance and cradles you closer to his body.

“Oh, sweetheart, no.” He smiles a little more, this time it reaches his eyes and they’re so dazzling in their sparkling blue that you nearly forget that you’re upset about the blonde woman with her arms on your husband. “Sharon arrive late last night. She heard that I was in the garden and came to look for me. I wasn’t expecting her.”

He licks his lips, dipping down to wrap his arms, both of them, around your waist better. He stands up straight pulling you along with him so that you’re standing on your toes a bit to compensate for the difference in height.

“I’ve only been waiting for you, pigeon.” He assures you.

Your heart flutters, stomach tumbles, as he scrunches up his nose.

“I’m not sold on the pigeon name.” He suddenly says.

“What?” You gasp, so breathless that it makes him smile a little wider.

“You are not a pigeon.” He explains. “And I’d hate to jinx us and call you a bird only to have you run off on me again.”

“I won’t-”

“I’d rather not risk it.” He sighs and begins to rock his body from side to side, taking yours with it.

“Your Maj-”

“How about pearl? Can you be my pearl?” He shakes his head. “No. You’re full of beauty and elegance. A true Queen. Noble. Royalty. A diamond? Maybe you’re my gem?”

His words sting because they’re all wrong. You’re not a true queen or noble or even remotely royal. You’d be lucky to be on the same level as a pearl. You’re definitely not a gem.

You don’t know what makes you do it. Maybe it’s because you’ve been in such pristine specimens of the upper-class lady in Morgana’s and Nat’s company? And with Sharon here too?

You’re nothing like these women. You’re nothing. No one. A peasant. A commoner.

“I’m not.” You tell him.

“If you don’t like being my gem, we can pick something else.” He says, not understanding.

“I’m no one, your Majesty.” You continue.

“Steve.” He chastises.

“I’m a peasant. Truly.”

He stops rocking.

“Father…King Anthony found me on the side of the road, helping an old woman fetch her purse from a bog. I’m an orphan. I come from nothing and no one. I’m not his true daughter. He wanted to save his daughter and you, and he begged me to do this for him and I agreed…I’m of no consequence.” Your lip trembles, threatening sorrow as you realize that you’ve told him your last secret.

The only one that matters.

He’ll kick you out. You’ll have to go back to Malibia a failure.

“I’m no one.” You repeat.

His face serious, stern, and those blue eyes boring into your own, his arms tighten.

“You’re a Rogers.” He tells you, so certain that your heart skips a beat. “You’re my wife. My Queen. And you’re my flower.”

He smiles slowly, happy at last with his term of endearment.

“And tomorrow, I’ll throw you the wedding feast that you deserved. I’m going to dance with you and make sure everyone knows that you’re mine. Especially Thor.”

You huff a laugh. Your heart soars.

He leans in towards you, licking his lips as he does.

You shut your eyes.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice floats down from behind him.

His Majesty breathes in sharply, angrily, frustrated, but turns to look at Bucky while gently placing you back on the ground.

“I’ll be right there.” His Majesty assures him, apparently exchanging words with a mere glance, then turns back to you.

“You have nothing to worry about with Sharon.” He promises, caressing the side of your head. “We’ll continue this soon?”

He’s genuinely asking you for your permission and you nod, so stunned at the sudden shift that your mind is reeling.

He leans down to kiss your cheek.

“I will send for you, Lady Rogers.” He smirks, then leaves you to stare after him and Bucky, your legs numb.

[bookocd]

Light As Air Chapter 4

This is the next chapter in my Fenrys Fanfic! If anyone would like to be tagged or has prompts for future chapters let me know :) 

Thank you for reading!

Tag List:

@wxstedhexrt

Summary:

In the aftermath of Kingdom of Ash, Fenrys finds himself connected with a mysteriously powerful fae female. With the confusion of her past and vast amount of power, the Aelin’s court becomes weary of Fenrys’s involvement.

Fenrys is still reeling after Connall’s death and while joining Aelin’s court has been a dream, his nightmares are still plagued by Maeve.

Vel will do anything to get the help she needs, but her past controls her emotions, and her hopes for the future clouds her judgement.

Maybe together they can mend what has been broken, but Vel’s strange origins will continue to keep them apart.

Links:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4:

Vel felt like death. 

The area behind her eyes was pounding, her throat was sandpaper as she painfully swallowed, and for some reason her neck felt stiff as a fucking board. 

Her back cracked as she tried to sit up, and ended up only getting her elbows under her enough to prop the rest of her upper half up. 

Opening her eyes slowly, and a couple of blinks later, her blurriness dissipated. 

Am I in an adult size bed? Vel thought as her eyes widened with shock. The room she was in was larger than her father’s whole cabin. While the only piece of furniture was the bed she was on, the stone floor was extensive and the ceiling felt miles away. The floor to ceiling windows made her breath catch. 

Moving slowly, she got her legs off one side of the bed and took her time lifting herself up. When she felt confident in her walking abilities she went toward one of the windows. She looked out onto the city bathed in golden light from the retreating sun. 

Wait am I in the palace?

“Oh my gods,” breathing out the words as her panicked body retreated back toward the bed. She knew that she was in the castle, but she had no recollection of how she got here. Her confusion gave way when all the memories of the incident unfolded in her head. 

She needed to get out of here. The thoughts in her head going a million miles a minute. 

They must think I’m either crazy or fucking terrifying, Vel thought to herself as she started to pace, or that I was trying to kill the queen. It was that thought that had her looking for the exits. The two windows were obvious, but the idea of using her powers made a shiver run down her back. 

To the right of the bed, there was a single wooden door. Finding her self in front of it within seconds, she tried the handle, which surprisingly turned. Opening it slightly, voices drifted toward her. Focusing on the voices was easy, but she didn’t recognize the person who was softly talking.  

“She is physically fine. Her hands…” Vel stiffened and knew at that moment the voice was discussing her. The light female voice continued, “Well you’ve seen her hands, and I can’t figure out what or who would have done such a thing. I truly have never seen anything like it and Yrene would need to be called in for further evaluation. I think it would be a similar situation to what was expressed to Lady Elide for her ankle.”

Vel had heard these names many times during her spying, but she was confused as to the situation that was being discussed.

A gruff voice, another that she had never heard, came into the conversation by saying, “We shouldn’t be discussing helping her with past injuries, we should be discussing what to do with her.”

The first voice started taking again, like no one had interrupted her. “The process to fix them would be long, but I want to discuss something else.” The voice changed into something slightly sadder instead of factual. “Have any of you seen her back?” 

Her knees almost gave out at the question. 

Vel’s heart was beating out of her chest and she finally looked down to see that she was in a gown of some sort, one that was only pulled together in the back by ties. Her back was completely exposed. Tears starting to fill her eyes, she still continued to listen to the painful conversation. 

“What do you mean? What is wrong with her back Marna?” The voice wrapped around her like silk, and she knew that it was the golden wolf talking. Her heart calmed and her eyesight was no longer blurred by tears. 

“Um, during the initial exam we noticed that she has scars—”

She was cut off by the obvious voice of the queen, “Whipping scars?”

“That’s what I assumed at first, but upon further inspection they are not from any sort of whip or torture devices. She has two perfectly parallel vertical scars, which look to be many years old and almost surgical in nature. They are completely healed, but both of them are raised, like two mountains. I think something was put under her skin, because they are both hard to the touch, like bone. I was trained at the Torre for over 50 years and I have never seen anything like the injuries presented in this female. I’m sorry to say that this patient is out of my depth.” The breath she let out was tired and she then asked, “Do you have any more questions for me your Majesty?”

Aelin must have shook her head, because Vel could hear faint steps moving until they were too far away to hear. 

Vel wasn’t surprised that the woman was confused and no one except her family had ever seen her back. She had long ago let go of any anger her deformities caused, but she still felt extremely exposed by the whole conversation.

“I don’t care what scars she has,” the gruff voice spat out. “She obviously can’t control her magic and can’t be trusted. I say we get rid of the problem before it gets worse.” 

A growl sliced through the air. “That is not up to you, Lorcan. And if you touch her I don’t care what promises I’ve made or that we are in the same court, I will rip out your fucking throat.” 

She believed in that moment that the golden male would never allow anyone to hurt her. She had no clue what to do with that information, but she smiled all the same. 

—

Silence. 

Fenrys’s chest was shifting up and down with impressive speed, mimicking his heart, and he had moved closer to the room with his sleeping mate inside. 

He would kill Lorcan if he shifted an inch in her direction. It took all his effort to not kill him as a smirk slid onto his face. 

But the violence ebbed away when Elide smacked the back of Lorcan’s head. The incredulous look he gave his fiancé was fucking hilarious and he knew everyone in the hallway was trying not to laugh. 

“Lorcan isn’t going to get rid of anything or anyone,” Elide’s small but strong voice eased Fenrys slightly. “But Fen we do need to discuss what to do,” she said, with a continuing glare to Lorcan, as if daring him to say something else. 

“She needs training.” Rowan had stayed quiet throughout the day. He was silent after Vel unfroze everyone, he was silent while they brought her to the palace, and he was silent during and after the healer’s exam. He continued, “What happened earlier I’ve only seen one other time in my life.” 

“Rowan what are you talking about? I thought it was just a self imposed burnout, like what I did in Mistwood,” Aelin replied. 

���No Fireheart, you literally let your magic overpower you and take control, but this female forced her power down, so far down that I couldn’t even detect it.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I knew a fae once that was so scared of her own power that she refused to let it out. She went crazy and in the end her magic killed her from the inside out. The fainting and shaking was one of the first symptoms that her body and mind were deteriorating. Honestly it’s so rare and terrifying to watch,” his eyes turned downcast as he continued. “It was slow moving, but she didn’t have the power that this female has, so I’m not sure what the timeline is here…” He looked at Fenrys and he could tell what he was trying to say. This female would die sooner rather than later. Fenrys’s heart dropped to his stomach. 

“Then we train her,” Fenrys said, like it was a given.

“Fen, what if she doesn’t want our help?” Aelin asked quietly. The question hadn’t crossed his mind. 

“I have a way with female’s Aelin. I mean I got you to give me the blood oath didn’t I?” The smirk didn’t hold its full luster, but Aelin still let out a sharp laugh. 

“You didn’t get me to do anything, only realize that you would be lost without my wisdom and guidance boyo.” 

“Whatever gets you to fall asleep at night sweetheart.”

Rowan, who was pointedly not smiling, said, “Trust me she isn’t thinking of anyone but me when she’s falling asleep at night or should I say losing sleep at night.” 

With that, Lorcan turned away grumbling that no one ever listened to him and Elide followed asking why she hadn’t been losing sleep at night lately. Her yelp bounced off the cobblestone walls as he threw her over his shoulder and patted her ass. Fenrys knew exactly what they were going to do and he gaped at them as they turned for the staircase which led to their bedchamber. 

Turning to his queen and king he saw them with serious expressions, but he spoke before their warnings could come. 

“I’m going to go check on Vel,” he said while walking away. 

Fenrys was forced out of Vel’s room by healers, so he hadn’t seen her in hours. His heart started to race as he reached the oak door and slowly opened it.

Vel was laying in the king sized bed, right where he left her. The sun was setting so the room was slowly darkening. Her skin was near glowing, like it was a product of the moon, and her hair was a living shadow. He found himself at her bedside without remembering moving his feet. 

Taking a seat on the bed beside her shoulder. Bringing a hand up to move a stray black hair out of her face and he allowed himself one second of contact with her cheek. Heat raced through his body and a second turned into a minute. 

Gods she is beaut—, his thought was interrupted by sudden movement.

His hand was suddenly turned in the wrong direction and legs shot out and forced him into the air, landing on the bed next to the female he thought was asleep. Within a moments time he was on his front, face smothered against the pillows with a knee pushing against his spine and hand trapped in a death hold. 

Hair suddenly was tickling his neck and a breath was hitting the back of his ear making him shudder… a shudder she most definitely felt. 

Vel’s voice sounded almost playful as she said, “Didn’t your mother teach you not to touch a girl without permission?”

Fenrys was happy that he was on his front, because his cock started to strain in his pants. He had never been turned on while being overpowered by a female. 

“Let me up and I can show you everything I’ve been taught,” his voice muffled by the pillow.

“I doubt you could teach me anything I don’t already know.”

“Oh you would be surprised sweetheart.”

With another flash of limbs and grunts, Fenrys was suddenly on top of his mate with her arms pinned above her head. The exam gown had bunched at her waist, leaving her upper thighs exposed and his legs were straddling her waist, with ample distance so his hardness wasn’t against her softness.

Her eyes widened when she caught view of his likely hungry gaze. 

“This is a much better position to teach you in.”

[heras-princess]

There are stories that haven't been told or were overshadowed by others and eventually forgotten over time. The story of how Uga Benzaiten became the Queen of Curses is a forgotten one, unfortunately.

AUTHOR’S NOTES: this fanfic has my original characters; this is also on my wattpad and archive of our own accounts

WARNINGS: original characters, romance, lgbtq+, sukuna being sukuna, references regarding japanese mythology/lore, executions, propaganda, manipulation, murder, corrupt positions of power, brainwashing, family drama, and many more.

Words: 1,183

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘 (𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄)

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

“Your Majesty, I apologize to inconvenience you at this time, but the Imperial Princess Uga is nowhere to be seen.”

The throne room quickly fell silent.

Not a single person spoke for what seemed like hours but was only a minute in reality.

“...I’m sorry, but I fear that I might’ve misheard you on what you have just told me,” Despite displaying a polite smile, Emperor Nintoku’s voice was filled with nothing but venomous malice. Did he hear that right? No, of course not. Perhaps he misheard the chambermaid’s news. Either

The lowly servant further explained the situation to her superior, “Her Imperial Highness requested some time alone in her chambers after her recent training sessions. When I was entered in order for her to receive dinner, I’ve noticed that her Highness was nowhere in her room and her window was open. I have reason to believe that she has ran away when she was alone.”

After telling her side, the chambermaid awaited and feared on what her emperor planned on saying or doing next. He stayed silent for a moment, and his facial expression - she hadn’t dared to look up to see his face out of respect and fear.

Smack!

The maid whimpered in pain as she fell on the floor, tears threatening to soak on the room’s floor. Her right cheek has a reddening mark from Nintoku himself.

“What a joke of a chambermaid. You avert your eyes from the high priestess and she manages to leave under your nose,” he began to tear into the maid, not caring if she’s starts crying. Uga leaving was the maid’s fault. And here she was, paying the price for her carelessness.

Today certainly has had its ups and downs.

First his men found a kappa hiding itself in an alley and brought it to him. The emperor began to ask them questions about Ryomen Sukuna, in the hopes if locating him. Unfortunately, the kappa said nothing. EIther it didn’t know anything or refused to say anything is left to only his imagination. Either way, he’ll continue to interrogate the yokai until he gets something out of it or it dies. He would be fine with either outcome.

Just then, one of the warriors burst into the throne room, interrupting the emperor’s thought process.

The warrior deeply bowed, “Apologizes for barging in, Your Majesty. But the kappa you’ve taken captive has escaped from it cage!”

Huh. Looks like he was wrong.

Today has been more of a bad day than most.

Nintoku then began to chuckle. His chuckle turned into a laugh, and his laugh became a hearty guffaw. “Well, I’ll be damned. I believe I am able to piece together what has occurred in these late hours. It appears that my dear Uga freed the kappa and took off. Right underneath not only your noses but mine as well.” He tried to catch his breath after finishing his little fit. This whole thing was amusing, to say the least.

That girl surely is something.

Why couldn’t she stay quiet and in line like the rest of her siblings? Maybe if she had, then her father wouldn’t pay so much attention to her. He always knew that Uga wasn’t as afraid of him as her siblings were, never trembling in fear whenever he would merely glance at her.

And her jujutsu training was a thing to behold. His daring daughter was a quick learner, that one.

He turned around and waved off the troop, “Send out your best searchers and find the Imperial Princess. And should you find the kappa along with her, bring it as well. Oh, and do not be afraid to use some cursed energy if she’s spotted.”

Alright, Uga.

You’ve made the first move in this hunting game you decided you want to pay.

Now it is my turn.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Uga hasn’t stopped running through the forest even though her feet were ready to give out soon. She knew better than to stop at this point. She had the kappa that she freed from her father in her arms. Her plan was to drop off the kappa at a nearby river and continue hiding from the imperial searchers. The chambermaids must’ve learned about her disappearance and have told her father, who probably send out searchers to find her and the kappa.

That was when Uga finally found a river a few feet away. Once the kappa started to sniff a familiar fishy scent from the body of water, it wiggled out of the imperial princess’s grip and dove into the river without any form of hesitation.

Uga took out a few whole cucumbers that she stole from the kitchen when the cooks weren’t looking and showed it to the water spirit. “Here. I know well enough that you haven’t really eaten anything since you were brought to my father.”

The kappa looked between its’ offering and the young high priestess, most likely scared thanks to its recent past experience with a jujutsu sorcerer. Eventually, it quickly snatched a cucumber from her hand and took a couple of bites of it while staring at Uga.

She took off her shoes so she could soak her sore feet, sighed in relief once the feet hit the water. “I really needed this soak.” The princess made eye contact with the river yokai, who was slowly eating the rest of the cucumbers right beside her. “I’m guessing you don’t trust me still. Fair enough. I wouldn’t trust the next jujutsu sorcerer after what you went through.”

When she was younger, Nintoku would often tell her and her siblings stories that painted mythical creatures horribly and told them to run as jujutsu sorcerers who encountered a mythical creature and stay were those with a death wise. He wasn’t really wrong, but she still thought differently. She wanted to understand the mythical, not really hurt them like her other siblings wanted to once they were strong enough jujutsu sorcerers.

Oh, how she wished that some of her other siblings believed what Uga did. Maybe they could’ve run away together and learn about the mythological mysteries.

“If I continue on feet, then those searches would surely catch up to me,” she said to herself. That was when she came up with the perfect idea. Her father was in charge of her cursed energy training and he was worse than the official trainer. He wanted them to have the strength of a Special Grade. Unforuently, at least half of her siblings could barely handle a Grade 3 spirit, with Uga being the lucky few with immense cursed energy.

The searchers, on the other hand, couldn’t handle a Grade 2 curse.

“It appears that Father did manage to teach me something during my training period,” she then made an arrow from the river water and looked at the kappa one last time before getting up. “What to do when a challenge presents itself.”

She ran away from the river and went in the direction that she just came from, leaving the kappa confused. It took the remaining cucumbers and swam away from the shore.

[star-and-the-motherverse]

Chapter 1 - Mother’s Wisdom

The Butterfly Who Lost Her Wings

Word Count: 4501 | AO3 Mirror | Next

Summary: It was on that fateful day when Star Butterfly, the princess of Mewni, disappeared. Mewni was left broken, grieving, and lost. Queen Moon, despairing and left at her lowest point, decided that she would not rest until her daughter was freed, no matter what it cost her.

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* ♦ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

If only her daughter had listened to her, then maybe, just maybe, this situation would never have befallen them.

Oh, who was Moon kidding? It was unfair to blame Star for all of this. If anything, she was just like her mother, pulling practically the same scheme that Moon had when she was her age. She was proud of Star, in a strange way, for taking the matter into her own hands and attempting to fix the problem as best as she could. But only now was Moon in a position to finally recognize how dangerous the situation was.

“Star!”

Her daughter was on an adjacent balcony, standing beside Ludo. She wasn’t that far away at all, and yet, it felt as if the distance between them was far greater than it had any right to be. At the sight of her daughter, Moon’s fear subsided significantly, but she could not shake the feeling of dread that was heavy in the air. Marco and Yvgeny stood next to the queen, confused by the situation presented before them. They probably felt very much out of their element, being thrown into a situation as dire as this.

Star turned to meet their gazes, offering a sad, little smile. Maybe she already knew how her mother felt about all this. “Hey, Mom. Hi, Marco.”

Moon wanted to ask what was wrong, but it clicked into place when a ghostly unicorn escaped from the wand embedded in Ludo’s hand. Her blood turned to ice. No, she wouldn’t have… The half of the star insignia had darkened to an ominous black, confirming Moon’s fears.

“I, uh…” Star’s eyes darted away, as if she knew the consequences of what she had done just as well as Moon did. “I’m sorry, you guys.” The ghostly figure of the millhorse let out a defeated whinny before disappearing into the sky.

“Is she okay?” Yvgeny asked aloud, not to anyone in particular. “What does that mean? Is, is that...”

Marco attempted to answer him, but his voice quickly trailed off. “It’s…”

Tears immediately began to pool in the corners of Moon’s eyes as panic set in. “The... the Whispering Spell…” She slammed her fists down on the railing in front of her, as if it was going to give her some kind of ability to stop this from happening. But she knew just as well as Star did that what had been set in motion could not be interrupted. “No! Star! You... you get away! You run away from there!”

Star’s voice was quiet, but firm. “It's too late, Mom.”

Marco moved forward to stand beside Moon, his hands gripping onto the stone railing in an effort to ground himself. “She’s… why isn’t she running? Why is she just…”

Something must have clicked in Yvgeny’s mind, because he suddenly blurted out, “What?!” and took several quick steps backwards, away from the impending destruction. “Why she use that spell again?!”

Moon was too overwhelmed with horror to wonder how or why either of them would know what the spell was capable of. She was frozen to the spot, her mind, heart and body all at war with each other. She wanted to rush over there and do something, but what could she even hope to do?

Ludo said something to Star excitedly, but Moon was unable to hear him over the wind. The two of them exchanged some words. Star’s gaze never strayed from the wand, her lips pressing together into a thin, contemplative line.

“No!” Moon screamed as the spell began its work. A fiercely bright pillar of green magic shot out of the wand and into the sky, crackling and snapping viciously. There was a sickening moment of silence as the wand imploded before an explosion shook the castle, taking down the entire tower with it. The three of them could only watch in horror as it fell apart and collapsed into a spray of dust and debris.

“N-no, no no no NO!” Moon’s shoulders began to tremble violently, out of fear for her daughter’s life. “Buff Frog, we have to go now!”

Yvgeny, despite his dread, grunted in acknowledgement and scooped both her and Marco up in his arms, jumping down to the crater below. Moon tore through the rubble recklessly, overturning chunks of rock and sheets of stone. A wave of anger washed over her as she found an unconscious Ludo, however irrational those feelings might have been. Now that she knew Toffee was involved in this mess somehow—she should have known better than to assume that he’d finally left her and her family alone—it was impossible to place blame in this situation.

She never should have left Ludo alone once she found out he had the other half of the wand. If she had acted sooner, there was the chance that she could have prevented all of this. She felt so lost without the High Commission on her side, but she knew there was nothing she could do about it in the given moment. Her daughter was her one and only priority right now.

“Where's Star?” Moon barked out, picking up the small monster by his shoulders and shaking him. His eyes opened, but they were glassy and difficult to read. Was that the faintest tinge of pink light she could see in them? “Where is my daughter?!”

How peculiar it was, that it wasn’t Ludo’s voice she heard when he responded. No, it was far more familiar than that. “Mom! Mom, Mom! I'm in here!”

“Star? Is that you?” She wasn’t exactly sure how Star had ended up inside of Ludo’s consciousness—was the inside of the wand and his mind connected somehow?—but the fact of the matter was that she was okay, and that was all that Moon could hope for.

“Yes, yes, it's me!” The relief was prominent in her daughter’s voice, as if she had shared the same fears as her mother.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Moon hugged the kappa tightly. She understood that her daughter might not even be able to recognize the gesture, but she made the effort nonetheless. Behind her, she heard both Marco and Yvgeny let out sighs of relief. They came up on either side of her and looked over Ludo curiously, equally surprised and puzzled by this new development.

“This is very strange…” Yvgeny commented. As comforting as it was to know that Star was still here, it didn’t make it any less disorienting to hear her voice coming out of Ludo.

Marco leaned forwards to better center himself in Ludo’s field of vision. “C-can you see us?”

“Yeah, Marco, I can! Y-you guys didn’t get hurt, did you? You’re all okay?”

“I assure you, we’re fine,” Moon answered for them. “Are you? Where are you?”

Her daughter’s voice was shaky and uncertain. “Well, I-I'm totally fine, but, uh... I don't exactly know where I am.”

“That's okay, sweetie,” Moon assured, hoping that her words could comfort her in some way. “The important thing is that you're safe. Just stay right there. And no matter what, we will find you!”

“Mom? M—yeah, c—“ Her voice was beginning to break up, to Moon’s dismay. “Can y—re—t-tha—“ Ludo’s eyes closed as her voice faded away.

Just as quickly as the brief period of relief had appeared, it was gone, leaving her unnerved and frightened. _No no no, come back to me! Please! _“Star? Are you still there?" She shook Ludo again, a bit more aggressively than she intended, hoping to somehow reconnect to her daughter.

Ludo’s eyes opened again, but this time, the light behind them was a sickly, ominous green. The voice that came out of him was not her daughter’s. Yet it was somehow just as familiar, eerily so.

“Hello, Moon.”

It didn’t feel like her blood could run any colder than it already had. Her fight or flight reflexes desperately wanted to kick in, but she felt rooted to the spot, face to face with the one she recognized as her worst possible enemy. “Toffee…”

Ludo’s body floated out of her hands and up into the air, where he hovered in place, smiling a wide, toothy grin that didn’t quite seem to match what she knew about Ludo’s personality. The emptiness of his eyes made it all that much more unsettling.

All three of them were on their feet in an instant. Neither Marco nor Yvgeny moved into attack stances right away, but they were clearly put on edge by the confirmation of who this was in front of them. Marco looked completely taken aback, as if he thought this was impossible. His mouth was agape, but not so much as a word escaped him. Yvgeny’s eyes were anxiously darting between Ludo’s hovering body and their surroundings like he was expecting more bad memories of the past to jump out of hiding and ambush them. Despite his attempts to appear threatening, he was very clearly incredibly tense.

Moon shook her head quickly, clearing her thoughts. Why Toffee was here did not matter, not right now. She took a commanding step forwards and clenched her fists at her sides. “Give us back Star.”

“Oh, of course,” Toffee chuckled. “But I'd like something from you first. Something that belongs to me.” He outstretched his hand, still bearing the blackened half of the wand in his palm. The missing finger was easily recognizable.

His finger, she remembered. He had mentioned it before, when the rest of the Magic High Commission had been incapacitated. She had found it amid all the rubbish shoved into Star’s closet and had kept it on her since, fearful that Toffee would find it himself. But now, what was she to do? Her sense of reason told her that giving in to his demands was a very poor choice, but did she really have any other options? Her child was now trapped inside the same plane as that monster, that villain. Star needed to be rescued immediately. There was no doubt that her daughter was a fighter, and she was likely already trying to find her own way of escaping. But if Toffee had been inside the wand, after all this time, and had never found a way to escape—

Moon stopped herself from debating it further, reluctantly reaching to remove the small jar from her belt and hold it out towards him. The finger sat inside.

“Your Majesty,” Toffee said, as he floated down closer to her. His hand outstretched further, silently asking for her to follow through with his demands. “Do we have a deal?”

“Take it.”

She tipped the jar upside down and dumped the finger out of it, placing it in his hand before she could convince herself otherwise. The smirk on Ludo’s face widened as he closed his hand around it. The finger immediately began to reattach itself to the severed stump it was once a part of, until it was whole once more.

The light in Ludo’s eyes flickered out, leaving them pitch black. He looked as if his life force had been taken out of his own body, similar to the fate of the High Commission. He hung limply in the air.

Moon wanted to cry out for her daughter again—perhaps she could finally hear her, now—but Ludo’s right arm sharply extended, prompting her to stay silent. The newly reformed finger had yet to stop expanding, as unnatural gray ooze slowly spread from his hand and up his arm, overtaking Ludo’s entire body in a horrific display. The dark sludge took on the shape of a skeleton as it continued to grow. Skin stretched over its form, followed by a jet black suit. As the figure’s shape began to finalize into lizard-like features, his eyes were the last thing to roll into place, and he lightly floated back down to the ground without saying so much as a word. Toffee’s eyes were widened, his gaze settling on the empty space in front of him.

Before anyone was able to even react, he bent forwards and vomited out some of the sickly dark ooze that had reconstructed his body, as well as Ludo himself, who landed in a mostly unconscious heap on the ground. Toffee blinked a few times, shocked silent, before returning to stand upright and examine his hand. It looked as if his finger had never been absent in the first place. His eyes were stretched wide in disbelief.

“Where is my daughter?” Moon demanded, taking a slight step towards him.

“Yeah, where’s Star?!” Marco chimed in from behind her, finally breaking his silence. He chose to adopt a karate stance, lowering himself to the ground with partially bent knees.

Toffee turned his hand out to face them, where the fragment of the wand still resided. Without warning, he clamped his hand shut, crushing the blackened, brittle stone in his palm. It crumbled to dust and he allowed the broken remains to fall to the ground.

“She’s gone,” he said plainly, before he turned and began to walk away.

Everything around Moon in that very moment felt as if it ceased to exist. He had to be lying. There was no possible way that he was telling the truth—she refused to give it the consideration. Admitting that would mean that her daughter was gone, and she wasn’t going to let that be a possibility. No, not at all. She wasn’t in the wand, no, she was somewhere else, safe and happy, somewhere where nothing bad could happen to her.

Her eyes were tearing up...why were they tearing up? Nothing was wrong. No, she hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of her life. Toffee hadn’t won. He hadn’t succeeded in this revenge scheme of his. He hadn’t taken away her baby girl. She was going to prove it. She had to prove that he had failed, and then maybe, just maybe, she could have the last laugh...

Her feet set in motion before her mind could even register it, carrying her towards the septarian. She stepped faster and faster, until she was running, and a emotionally-driven scream tore out of her as she clenched her fists and lunged at him.

Toffee had whirled around to face her the moment she threw her first punch. He pushed her hand away from him before it could collide with his chest. Again and again, she threw her fists at him, and he continued to block her attacks until he caught each of her fists in his own hands. Moon struggled free of his grip and instead pulled Star’s half of the wand off of her belt, placing it directly over the monster’s chest as she repeated the words of the very spell she had used on him in the first place. Despite it being in her own hands, the wand’s shape never changed.

“I call the darkness onto me from deepest depths of earth and sea! From ancient evils unawoken, break the one who can't be broken! From blackest night I pledge my soul, and crush my heart to burning coal! To summon forth the deadly power; to see my hated foe devoured!” Her words were bathed in desperation, but the spell did nothing at all.

Toffee narrowed his eyes at her impatiently. “Are you finished?”

He flinched slightly as a punch was thrown into his back and turned his head to glare at the one who had inflicted it. Marco stood there with his fists held up, clenched knuckles turning white with anger. Tears were pooling in his eyes. Toffee grumbled something under his breath and turned to grab him by the arm, haphazardly throwing him at a nearby pile of rubble. The boy landed in a painful heap, and Yvgeny immediately rushed over to him.

Moon snapped out of her stupor as Toffee took hold of her shoulders, shoving her into the ground. He dusted his hands off on his suit jacket and spared one last unreadable glance at her before walking away. Ludo stopped him before he could leave, but her mind had tuned him out. Her thoughts spiraled downwards as fast as her tears were falling down her face, and she tried desperately to think of something else that could be done.

She scrambled over to the pile of broken pieces scattered across the ground, scooping up a small handful. Yes, that was it! She could put the wand back together again. Then everything would be alright—it had to be alright.

The ground scuffled in front of her, signaling that someone was approaching. But she hardly even heard it.

“Come on, come on. Why won't you fit? Come on.”

A shadow appeared on the ground over her. “Queen?” She looked up and met Marco’s gaze. His sadness was apparent on his face.

“M-Maybe if I-I put the wand back together, it'll… it'll bring her back.” Her voice was trembling as badly as her frail hands were. “But this piece won't fit.”

Marco leaned down on one knee and silently looked over the wand, before picking out a piece and offering it to her. “Here. Try this one.”

“Th-thank you,” she murmured, carefully taking it from him and glancing over it first, and then the pile of shards just in front of her. “There’s just so many pieces, I-I don’t even know where to start…”

She heard light footsteps cautiously draw near, and she knew there was only person around that was small enough to fit that description. Her gaze snapped up to connect with Ludo’s, startling him with how piercing it was.

“I-I’m sorry!” he stammered out immediately, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

She didn’t care how apologetic he sounded. There was no excusing what his actions had ultimately led to, in her eyes. “This is your fault. It’s all because you were stupid enough to fall for his tricks!" He flinched under her accusation, frightened. She recognized the hypocrisy in her own statement—she had just given Toffee the power to escape the wand, hadn’t she?—but the torrent of emotions running through her mind convinced her that she was justified in blaming him. It felt like the only thing she was still able to do.

“I’m so sorry,” Ludo murmured. “I… I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know anything anymore!” He conveyed his frustration and equally afflicted emotions with a wave of his arms. “I never meant for this to happen! I don’t even know what is my fault, a-and what is his…he’s used me, too, I hope you realize…”

“And that’s supposed to give you a pass?” Moon pushed herself off the ground, standing tall over the comparably tiny monster. “Did you really think that no one was going to get hurt? You took over an entire kingdom by brute force and threatened every person standing in your way!”

Ludo made no attempt to deny any of the accusations being thrown at him. He hung his head shamefully and couldn’t bear to maintain eye contact with the queen. “I wanted to be something more, someone who would be revered by the masses for his awe-inspiring greatness. My wand, it spoke to me, yes! It told me that I would be loved as the new King of Mewni. I thought that I could make things better! But the people of Mewni, they despised me… and even worse, it turns out, I haven’t accomplished anything on my own! I thought Toffee was dead, but he was here all along, manipulating me every step of the way!”

“What’s done is done, Ludo. You cannot deny responsibility for your crimes!”

“I’m not trying to!” He retorted, his temper growing equally short. “I’m trying to apologize!”

Moon, not able to stand looking at him any longer, turned herself away from him. “Just get out! Go away!”

“I know that we fought all the time, but I truly never wanted Star to get hurt! Not like this! I just wanted—“

“Get out of my sight!” She screamed, clutching her hands over her head. “L-let me concentrate, please...”

Ignoring him, she studied the wand pieces through her teary eyes, trying to think of what other options she had. She couldn’t think clearly with that insurgent monster pestering her, but even once he gave up and backed away, there was still no way she was going to be able to put all of the pieces back together. Her mind knew this, but her heartache refused to let up. She fell to her knees in front of the broken relic in an admission of desperation.

“I, I need to start over.” She dumped the fragmented half of the wand back into a pile and flattened out the crumbling pieces so she could more easily see them individually. “I have to...”

“Queen Moon.” Yvgeny’s voice was firm, but cautious. “I do not think that is going to work.”

“It’s going to work,” she insisted. “It will work, you’ll see. I’ll prove you all wrong.”

“She might be right,” Marco offered, only to immediately be shut down by Yvgeny.

“No! Do not encourage her.”

“It’s going to work!” _I’ll show you all, _she told herself. I’ll prove it. For Star’s sake.

“Please, you are only hurting yourself by doing this.” Yvgeny kneeled down and managed to pry the wand out of her hands—granted, her grip on it had been shaky.

“What are you—no! Give it back!” She was on her feet in an instant, repeatedly trying to steal it back. He held it well above her head, just out of her reach.

“Queen—“

“Give it back! Give it back, now!” She started beating her fists against his arm weakly, desperately. When the wand still had not returned to her hands, she collapsed into heavy, miserable sobs. Yvgeny frowned sorrowfully at the poor queen, holding onto her shoulder to prevent her from toppling over where she stood.

When the tears had finally run its course, her shoulders dropped in resignation. Her pleading, watery gaze connected with the frog monster. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You should take rest, come back with clear head. Then maybe you will find answer.”

She sniffled and nodded slowly.

“If there is one thing I know about Toffee, is that he is liar. He get inside your mind, make you think all the wrong things.” He turned and looked in the direction that Toffee had left, glaring with contempt. “What he know about magic, anyway?”

Moon’s eyes followed. The septarian had since disappeared, leaving no trace or hint of where he might have gone.

A commotion of royal guards and a few curious passerby had begun to gather around the edge of the crater. Upon seeing the state of the queen, the guards jumped down so that they could escort all of them up to safety.

“Your majesty! Are you alright?” the guard captain asked, skidding to a halt in front of her. “That was quite the explosion…”

Moon hurriedly scooped the wand fragments up from off of the ground, depositing them in the same jar that had previously held Toffee’s finger. Only after she was sure she had all of the pieces did she respond to the guard. “Y-yes, I’m fine, I wasn’t hurt…”

The guard noticed that she had been crying almost immediately. Her reddened and puffy eyes were a dead giveaway, and she likely was showing her grief very clearly. The captain was about to start speaking again, but Moon caught something in the corner of her vision that was more of a pressing matter. A few of the other guards that had jumped down into the crater were now attempting to handcuff both Ludo and Yvgeny—it seemed like they were having difficulty finding handcuffs of the right sizes for either of them, however.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Moon demanded, projecting her voice as clearly as she could manage through her emotional turmoil.

The guards shared glances with each other. It took a couple of moments before one of them dared to speak. “Um… arresting these monsters, your majesty?”

“He helped me,” she said, pointing at Yvgeny. “Where exactly do you think you are taking him?”

“Well, we were going to imprison both of them until further notice, just to be safe.”

“No, you will not. Not him. Buff Frog has not done anything wrong.”

“But, your majesty, he’s a—“

“No. That is an order.”

“If you insist, your majesty.” The closest guard removed the cuffs he had been attempting to lock on his wrists, sparing a judgmental glance at him. Yvgeny took the high road and ignored him entirely. As the guards turned their attention back to Ludo, he crossed the clearing to stand in front of Moon.

“T-thank you, Queen.” The monster quickly bowed his head in gratitude. “I am terribly sorry about Star… if there is anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

“You have your own family to take care of,” Moon responded curtly, her tone coming off as cold. She realized this and tried to backpedal. “…so you don’t need to worry about me and my problems. I’ll be okay.”

He seemed to understand what she meant. He nodded his goodbye and, with one last “thank you” and a solemn look at all of the saddened faces around him, he left the scene and returned to the forest.

“What about him, your majesty?” the guard captain asked, motioning to Ludo. The kappa had already been handcuffed and the guards were waiting for further direction from the queen.

Moon addressed him directly, which seemed to startle him again. “Ludo, you have committed many crimes against my kingdom. I can’t simply forgive that.”

Guiltily, he dipped his head. “I understand.”

That was good enough for the guards, who were quick to escort him away as a prisoner. As they began to climb out of the crater, the captain noticed that Moon hadn’t moved from where she stood. She was staring at the ground silently.

“My Queen? Are you sure that you are alright?”

Quickly, Moon assessed her priorities. “Issue a dimension-wide arrest warrant for Toffee of Septarsis immediately. Make it of the highest importance, have him brought back alive.”

“B-but your majesty, is that not to be the decision of the entire Magical High Commission? Do you have the authority to make such a—“

“I am the only one left.” Her voice dropped to a low, serious tone. “I am making this decision on their behalf.”

“Wh— do you mean to tell me that the High Commission is dead?!”

“No, they’re not dead! No one has died!” Part of her knew her denial was more personally motivated than she’d like to admit. Exhaling loudly, she attempted to calm herself. “Just… please, please… do as I ask.”

The captain, despite her frown, raised her hand to her head in a salute. “O-of course. Right away, your majesty. My apologizes.”

“Find him,” Moon ordered, clenching her fists. “We have to find him.”

[alkae]

Little Criminals

“Hugo?”

Hugo jolted awake at the sound of his boyfriend calling him from the other side of the library. “Huh, what?”

He glanced around, glasses askew on his face and quickly righted them. “Vari? Darling?”

“Over here, Hugh!”

Hugo looked to his left and saw Varian carrying a large stack of books that was so high that he couldn’t see his face. And that couldn’t happen. Hugo stood and took some of the books from him. “Thank you, my sweet,” Varian said gratefully. With the excess books gone, Hugo noticed an addition to his boyfriend: Ruddiger the raccoon, curled up on his boyfriend’s neck. The second the two made eye contact, they glared at each other.

Neither were particularly fond of one another. Both got a lot of Varian’s attention, so naturally there was animosity between them whenever one of them got said attention.

“Hugh?”

Hugo turned his attention away from the raccoon and instead focused on his lovely boyfriend. “Yes, Hummingbird?”

“I’m going out for the day. Corona is in desperate need of their royal engineer. Something happened with the hot water machines, I think. Eugene probably used the water all up again.” Varian laughed. “He does that. A lot.”

Hugo’s face soured. He wasn’t particularly fond of “Eugene” either. He knew him as Flynn Ryder and the guy was a hack. “Well, you’d better get on that Vari. Don’t want his majesty to get pissy about taking a cold shower. How will he ever cope?”

Varian laughed and nudged Hugo lightly. “Don’t be mean. You’d be equally upset if the same happened to you.” He set the books on the table and Hugo followed suit. Ruddiger continued to glare at him from Varian’s shoulder. Hugo glared back. Stupid raccoon. Wait, Varian was still talking. “...need you to watch Ruddiger.”

What. “What?”

“Oh, well, I don’t want Ruddiger near the machines if they’re unstable. Wouldn’t want him getting hurt right?”

“Yes. That would be a shame,” Hugo replied dryly.

Varian glared at him. “Anyway, he’s going to stay with you, here. Make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.” He leveled his glare at both Hugo and Ruddiger. “Both of you. Please don’t break or touch anything when I’m gone.” Now he just glared at Hugo. “I don’t want a repeat of last time.”

Last time was when Hugo moved one of Varian’s experiments, resulting in a pretty nasty explosion. Varian had yelled at Hugo for some time and Ruddiger had watched, amused, in the background. Smug bastard.

“Don’t worry, Var Bear.” He always warmed up when Hugo used a nickname. “There will be no incidents this time. I promise.” He smiled in what he hoped was a charming grin. “Relax. I’ve got this.”

Varian looked uncertain for a second before he softened and kissed Hugo, gently and chastely. “I’ll hopefully be back soon.” He took Ruddiger off of his shoulders and held him out for Hugo to take. Both’s stare was as if the other was a venomous viper. But, just to make his little alchemist happy, Hugo reached over and took him, holding the raccoon under its arms and dangling it in the air. Varian made an unhappy noise. “He’s not a doll, sweetheart.”

Hugo plopped Ruddiger down on the table. The raccoon chittered angrily at him. “There. Happy?”

Varian huffed. “Please be nice to each other. For me, okay?” His gaze was so sweet and innocent that Hugo couldn’t help but give in. He had grown weak.

He kissed Varian again. He could feel Varian smiling. “Anything for you,” he said.

Varian pulled away. “I have to go now. Goodbye, my Golden Dove.”

“Goodbye, my Hummingbird.”

Hugo watched as Varian packed up his stuff and waved goodbye as he disappeared through the gold doors leading to the outside world. A world Hugo hardly visited of his own volition anymore. He was gone for all of two minutes before there was a crash. Hugo turned to see Ruddiger rummaging through their food crates. “Raccoon!” Hugo snapped. “Get out of there.” When Varian realized that he and Hugo would be spending most of their time in the Eternal Library, he had filled several crates with food and stocked up on apples for Ruddiger. But he told Hugo that the apples were for special occasions.

“I don’t want him to eat all the apples,” Varian had said. “He needs to leave some for us, right?”

So of course, when Hugo saw said raccoon rummaging through the food crates, he responded kind of negatively. He rushed over to the crates and plucked Ruddiger out of them. “You’re not allowed to have any.” Hugo stomped away and set him down not too gently. In response, Ruddiger chittered at him in annoyance.

“Come on, raccoon, there has to be something for you to do that isn’t eating our resources.” He shooed him away. “Now get.”

Ruddiger shot him one last glare before vanishing around the shelves. Hugo huffed and leaned against the table. “Good. Let’s hope he stays out of trouble so I don’t have to deal with him,” he muttered to himself. He pushed off the table and stalked off, thinking that he would have the day to himself. After all, he reasoned, Ruddiger was smart for a raccoon. Surely he wouldn’t be that much trouble.

An hour later, Hugo was roaming one of the aisles. It was the spell section, which is probably where Ulla got all of her information on possession and tying yourself to a library for 20 years.

He wasn’t really looking for anything, simply in the aisle for browsing. He slid one book with a silvery green cover off the shelf and opened it to a random page. Lucky for him, he was able to read most languages but sometimes he’d come across something that completely stumped him and caused him to call for Varian.

This was not one of those times. He could easily decipher the text and identify it as Saporian. They did have a memory wand so it wasn’t surprising that they had an entire spellbook written. He flipped through the book halfheartedly, eyes glazed. He could never find a spell that actually intrigued him enough to use it. Plus, Varian would kill him.

Unfortunately, Varian wasn’t there that day.

Hugo landed on a page where the top read “A spell for removing pests.” His eyes moved across the words, saving it to his memory. Just in case. It said it would take the pest to another location, somewhere not near where the user was. He was about to read more when suddenly, he felt a weight on his shoulder and grunted as Ruddiger launched off of him to jump onto the bookshelf across from him. “Raccoon!” he exclaimed. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. What do you even want?”

Ruddiger didn’t answer, simply nestling in a spot above a row of books, resting his head on his paws. Hugo glowered at him.

“Raccoon, those are incredibly old and important books. You can’t just use them as a bed,” Hugo scolded.

The look he got was one of skepticism. He suddenly was reminded of the time he used a book as a coaster. He felt his cheeks heat up slightly. “That was one time! Plus, the book was fine.”

The look didn’t go away. He felt his annoyance rise. “Okay. If you’re the epitome of sainthood, you would stop digging through the apples when Varian tells you not to.”

Now Ruddiger looked embarrassed. Hugo grew smug. “Thought so. Now, if you would please extract yourself from my premise and find another place to sleep, that would be nice.” Ruddiger’s embarrassment replaced itself with agitation. He chittered at Hugo, who rolled his eyes. “I don’t care if you normally sleep here. I’m here now, which, therefore, means you can’t sleep here.”

In response, Ruddiger stood as much as he could crammed in between the books and the shelf and knocked one of the books to the ground. Hugo stared at it. “You did not just do that.”

Ruddiger’s next chitter was gleeful. The sadistic little cretin. Another book fell. “Stop that, raccoon!” 2 more books this time. “Raccoon, you better stop this right now or… or…” No threats came to his mind.

Ruddiger chittered. It sounded like he was saying, “Or what?”

Hugo looked around. What could he do for a punishment. His eye caught the book in his hand that he left open to the spell that removed pests. He scanned it again. “Or I’ll remove you! You pest.”

Ruddiger made a movement that was clearly mocking. How dare he mock Hugo? “Fine! You asked for it!”

In hindsight, Hugo wasn’t using his head. He was annoyed and aggravated and he hadn’t read the page fully. He thought the spell was going to take Ruddiger to another part of the library. He thought it would be completely harmless.

When he read the words, he felt the air around him thicken and, despite the lack of open windows in the library, his hair began to blow like there was wind. Ruddiger’s eyes widened as a glowy pink portal opened to the right of him, growing to about the size of Hugo. Hugo stopped speaking when he saw the portal. “Wait! Shit! Go back, go back.” But it was too late. The suction of the portal was too strong and Ruddiger had little to no grip on the shelf. Hugo watched in horror as the portal pulled the raccoon in and promptly vanished without a trace.

He stared at the place where the portal was and then at where Ruddiger had just sat. Then he said, “Fuck.”

He ran around the library calling for Ruddiger, desperately clinging to the hope that he was just in another part of the library.

After 20 minutes of screaming “Raccoon!”, Hugo admitted to himself that Ruddiger wasn’t there and sank to the ground. His panic caused him to continue holding the book in his hand, clutching to it like it was a precious jewel. He sat against the shelf and tried to steady his breathing.

Varian was going to kill him. Varian was going to break up with him if he came back and found out that his raccoon, his best friend, was missing.

Hugo had to get him back. He couldn’t lose the best thing that ever happened to him because of a stupid mistake.

“It’s okay Hugo,” he murmured to himself. “It’s gonna be okay. Deep breaths.” He inhaled deeply, exhaling through the nose. “Alright. Okay. Let’s figure this out. How do I get the raccoon back?”

Something silvery caught his eye. He looked down and gasped. “Stupid Hugo! Of course! The book!” He flipped it open and quickly found the page. He read it outloud. “Warning: if you aren’t careful, you’ll be sucked into the portal as well. Note that the spell is only temporary if the pest is close to where the portal first opened and if it’s undone within 2 hours.” Well. That was just fantastic. “If you wish to undo the spell, say these words. If the pest is not close to the portal, it may be possible to journey into the portal while keeping it open. Such a thing has never been done before.” Then a crossed out word. Hugo squinted and adjusted his glasses. “Impossible? No, no no no. I will make it possible.”

He quickly set to work making a machine that pulled him out of the portal when he needed to leave while simultaneously keeping it open. He went back to where Ruddiger first disappeared and reread the spell. The portal reopened and Hugo wrapped the rope connected to the machine around his waist. He took a deep breath.

“This is for Varian,” he muttered to himself. He leapt in.

The place was basically a junkyard.

Things, random objects, were strewn everywhere. There were also creatures of varying size and color, some bugs, some mammals like Ruddiger. “This place is massive,” Hugo said out loud. “How am I ever going to find that raccoon?”

A low growl surprised him and he turned to see a full sized dinosaur prowling around the junkyard land. His jaw dropped. “No fucking way.” Why was there a dinosaur in here? He watched, stunned, as it glanced around, uninterestedly, and then clomped off. He released a gasp of air. “Alright, I need to get that raccoon, now.”

He untied the rope and then retied it around a particularly heavy object so it wouldn’t go anywhere. Then, he took out the spellbook he decided to bring with him, just in case, and tried to search for a searching spell. Hugo figured that there must be one somewhere. After all, there was this spell, which caused nothing but trouble for Hugo.

There! A spell for finding. He skimmed it and then read it, quietly, so as not to summon the dinosaur. A glowing gray beacon rose in the air, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, and began to float away. Hugo followed it, stepping over broken pieces of metal and junk. He glanced around at the world, hoping he didn’t spot a human. That would be awful. It was already bad that he saw animals that looked like pets. He didn’t need to see a child or something.

That brought another question out of him: did time pass at all in here? Because there were dinosaurs, living breathing dinosaurs, here. So time must not pass.

Wow. What an intriguing spell. If he wasn’t so annoyed by it, he’d be fascinated.

He began to call for Ruddiger, but he kept his voice quiet. And he called Ruddiger “raccoon”, which probably didn’t inspire Ruddiger to come out.

There was a rustling to his left. He and the beacon stopped and he turned. Lo and behold, scurrying out of a pile of trash, there was Ruddiger, holding an apple in his paws. Hugo was both relieved and annoyed. “There you are! You’re coming with me, raccoon.”

Ruddiger glared at him. He didn’t say anything and he didn’t need to. His point was clear. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry I sucked you into a portal. Happy?”

Ruddiger shook his head. “I won’t suck you in another one. And, uh you can have apples when we get back.” Ruddiger pointedly showed Hugo his own apple. “I know, I know. But come on, isn’t an apple from Varian better than some random apple?”

The expression on his face clearly stated that he didn’t care either way. Hugo huffed. “What will it take you to come back, raccoon?”

‘Leave,’ is what Ruddiger’s face said.

Hugo threw his hands up. “You’re impossible. I’m not leaving Varian. You’re gonna have to get used to my presence.”

‘I’m not leaving either,’ Ruddiger seemed to reply.

The two glared at each other. “Raccoon,” Hugo said slowly. “I will drag you back home if I have to.”

Before Ruddiger could react, a screech interrupted their staring contest. They looked up to see a real life pterodactyl or some other flying dinosaur circling them. Even though Hugo couldn’t see that far up, he could tell that he was aiming for Ruddiger.

He wouldn’t let that prehistoric bastard get him.

So when the dinosaur bolted down to grab at him, Hugo pushed Ruddiger back into hiding and felt sharp claws latch around his waist. He was lifted into the air and he saw Ruddiger peek up at him from his hiding place. “Run!” he screamed to Ruddiger. “Go to the portal!”

If both of them couldn’t make it back, at least one of them should. For Varian. Hugo closed his eyes as the dinosaur took him away to some cave. He wished that he could see Varian again before he was eaten. What he wouldn’t give to redo everything that he did.

As he was dropped into a nest, he realized with shocking clarity how big of a brat he was. All it took was being abducted by a dinosaur to make him see that this was all him. He put his face in his hands. Look at me, he thought miserably. Ready to be eaten by a supposedly extinct creature because I was jealous of a raccoon.

The dinosaur surprisingly didn’t eat him immediately. Instead, it decided to go out hunting again, probably looking for Ruddiger. Hugo curled into a ball. How would he escape? Even if he did leave the cave, he had no idea where he was. And he dropped the spellbook during his flight. Maybe this place was like a circle. Maybe he could get out easily.

He wished he wasn’t so jealous. He wished he realized that Varian had a big heart. He wished he wasn’t so horrible to Ruddiger.

There was a chitter to his left. “Oh great, now I’m going insane,” he muttered. Something hard smacked into the side of his head. “Ow! Hey!” He turned and saw Ruddiger, clutching the spellbook and looking up at him with big round eyes.

He was shocked. “Raccoon? You came back for me?”

Ruddiger shrugged. Hugo decided to take it. “Thank you.” Ruddiger tilted his head in a flippant gesture. “No really. Thank you. You know, I think that all this time, we’ve just been misunderstanding each other and we should-” He cut off when he caught Ruddiger’s annoyed face. “Yeah, you’re right. We should go.”

He stood and Ruddiger made his way onto his shoulders. He decided not to complain about this. While they were heading to the exit, a low growl stopped them. “Shit.” The dinosaur was back. Hugo and Ruddiger exchanged a look. How were they going to get the dinosaur away from them? Hugo hid along the wall and thought to himself. There was nothing in the cave but bones, which was incredibly troubling. He didn’t think to bring his alchemy belt with him.

Ruddiger tapped his neck. He glanced over at him and saw him pointing to the spell book. That’s right! But they had to be smart about this. He couldn’t just spit out spells willy nilly. Ruddiger signaled his plan to Hugo quickly: he would distract the dinosaur while Hugo searched for the right spell to get the dinosaur permanently off their back.

“Will you be alright, though?” Hugo whispered. Ruddiger’s face said he was hopeful yet unsure. Hugo took a deep breath in. “Alright. Just… be safe okay? If not for me then for Varian.”

Ruddiger nodded in affirmation. This was for Varian.

Ruddiger scampered off as Hugo hid behind a rock. The dinosaur crawled back into the cave and scanned the room. When he didn’t see his dinner, he roared and hit the wall, causing the cave to rumble. Hugo stumbled and he opened the spell book. What spell would beat a dinosaur?

As he searched, he heard Ruddiger distracting the dinosaur. Or at least he thought it was Ruddiger. He heard something spit and then the dinosaur roar louder. Just that caused the cave to shake. He flipped through the book as Ruddiger led the dinosaur around the cave.

Teleportation spell… no, because what if Ruddiger was teleported with the dinosaur? Deaging spell? Maybe. But it would take awhile and they might not have awhile.

He landed on the spell that caused him so much trouble in the past. He groaned. No, this wouldn’t help him at all.

The second he went to turn the page, there was a huge slamming noise that caused him to turn. He saw the dinosaur with a wiggling Ruddiger in its claws.

He acted on instinct. He ran out of his hiding place, picked up a rock and threw it as hard as he could at the dinosaur. Hugo was never the strongest person. He was flexible and clever and intelligent but in a heated brawl, he would always come out on the bottom.

But he couldn’t just watch Varian’s first and closest friend be eaten.

The dinosaur turned, growling low. Hugo mustered up all the bravery he learned from Varian and screamed, “Drop him you overgrown, extinct, prehistoric bird creature!”

Of course the dinosaur didn’t drop him but it was very intrigued by Hugo. It eyed him as Hugo tried to stand his ground. He didn’t know if he could distract him enough to read the spell he was on: the spell that got them into this mess.

He had caught the words underneath the spell that said that the world generated was randomized each time. The only reason he got the world Ruddiger was in was because he specialized the portal. If he could summon the spell again, he could suck the dinosaur into the portal. Hugo picked up another rock and aimed it at the claw that held Ruddiger. “Put him down!” he repeated.

The dinosaur did, in fact, put him down. However, it wasn’t in surrender. Hugo was simply a bigger, tastier dinner in its eyes. Ruddiger disappeared out of view as Hugo backed up to avoid the dinosaur. He needed time to read.

And that wonderful raccoon gave him that chance as an apple splattered onto the dinosaur’s eye. Coming from experience, juice in the eye wasn’t pleasant. The dinosaur screeched and reared back. Hugo looked around and saw Ruddiger hurrying over to him and leaping onto his shoulders. He took the chance and, in a loud, confident voice, he read the spell.

The portal was huge and the two watched as the dinosaur grabbed at the ground to hold his place. But it was no use; the dinosaur was sucked into the portal and vanished from sight.

They were silent for all of 2 seconds before Hugo whooped. “He’s gone! We did it, Ruddiger!” He swung him around in celebration, book tucked under his arm. Then he remembered himself and put him back on his shoulders, clearing his throat. “Uh, thank you. Really. For saving me back there.”

Ruddiger patted his face as if to say ‘thank you, too.’ Hugo smiled despite himself. “We’ll call it even. Now how about we get out of here?”

Hugo was grateful that he tied the rope to a big hunk of junk because it hadn’t moved an inch since he left it there.

The two exited the portal, Ruddiger clinging to Hugo’s neck. They were more or less spit out and Hugo collided with the machine, breaking it. In response, Hugo broke it further. “Let’s hope we never have to use that again,” he said to Ruddiger. Ruddiger chittered in agreement.

In a show of comradery, Hugo snuck Ruddiger an apple from the crate and one for himself too. “If Varian asks, I ate both.” He winked.

When Varian returned,the two relaxing on a chair at a desk, Ruddiger curled up on Hugo. “Vari!”

“Hugh!” Varian leaned over Ruddiger’s now awake form to press a kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. “How was today? Did you two have fun?” Ruddiger crawled up onto Varian’s neck.

Hugo repressed a smile. “We had tons of fun.” He shared a look with Ruddiger.

Varian beamed. “I’m so glad you two are getting along.” He kissed Hugo again. “Thank you for watching him today. I’m so grateful.”

Hugo released his smile. “You’re very welcome, my dear.”

Varian sighed. “Now. I could go for a treat after the day I had.” He took Hugo’s hand and helped him stand. “Who wants an apple?”

[samthemarvelfan]

I Won’t Say: Chapter Four

-No One is Safe-

Summary: Ellaria Stark is the daughter of a king. When she is unwittingly betrothed to the King of a neighboring city, she isn’t sure how to feel. More importantly, she isn’t sure how the King will feel if he finds out the truth about her.

Pairing: James Barnes x OFC, Ellaria Stark. (Stark!Reader.)

Warnings: Royal!AU, Angst, alcohol, blackmail, murder, mentions of gore.

A/N: okay...ALL HELL HAS BROKEN LOOSE. Get ready, it just gets crazier! Taglist is open! Just send an ask!

“Sharon Carter? Why?” James asked, clearly confused.

Steve shrugged, “She didn’t give much detail, she only said that she’d heard the news of your betrothal and wanted to come see for herself.”

“Hm, I’ll uh...I’ll see her in the courtyard.”

Steve nodded and left. Why was Sharon here? After all these years, there had to be more to her visit than this.

Sharon had lived in Buchanan nearly a decade ago. When they were young and rebellious youths, they’d found a lot of comfort in each other. She and Bucky were close, then.

As close as a man and woman could be.

But he knew she wasn’t the one for him. While they had their fun and enjoyed each other’s company, he couldn’t lie to himself or to her—she wasn’t his forever.

That was the first straw for his parents. They’d tried to make him marry Sharon, but Bucky refused. He’d ended things with her and she hadn’t taken it well.

So she left, moved to Shieldian, and he hadn’t heard from her since.

And now she’s returned, awaiting in his home.

You retired the extravagant gown you’d worn to the parade in favor of a house gown.

Sam had informed you that Daisy found her mother who, when told the story of your encounter, was praising you for finding her daughter.

James hadn’t said much when you returned. Just that he could see how please his people were, and he was happy that they liked you.

His lack of affection towards you had begun to take its toll. You’d never expect him to be head-over-heels for you already, but at least friends. You longed to share a interaction with him that wasn’t forced.

As you pondered what you could do to change his heart, you heard a voice. A woman’s voice, along with the King’s.

You walked into the veranda looking onto the courtyard, the warm air doing nothing for the goosebumps on your skin.

James was there, along with a woman you’d never seen. She was quite fair, blonde of hair and slender. Her yellow gown’s beading glistened in the sun.

He grabbed her hand and held it in his, his thumb moving delicately over her knuckles. “You look well, Sharon.”

She smiled at him in a way you’d longed to admire him, stroking his arm as she spoke. “As do you, James. I can’t believe you’re getting married.” She said, her voice sarcastic.

You moved closer to them, remaining hidden behind a pillar.

“I am. Is that why you’re here? The wedding isn’t for some time.”

She smirked, “I just had to see it for myself. The woman finally able to sweep James Barnes off his feet.”

The King chuckled. “That’s not exactly how I’d put it.”

“Oh? Not love, then?” She said, grabbing his other hand in hers.

You watched James look down at their hands interlocked. You’d never been able to so freely reach out and touch him. Who was the woman?

James laughed. He actually laughed. “This is merely a caveat my parents willed in order for me to keep the crown. She’s an essential burden, I’m afraid.”

His words send your heart plummeting to your stomach.

The blonde laughed again, “Imagine if you’d listened to them all those years ago...we’d be the ones married. I’d be Queen, and we’d have a whole brood of Barnes’ roaming the castle...”

She pulled him in for a hug, he hesitated, but obliged. Tears swam in your eyes and you felt like you’d be sick any moment.

So you ran.

You tore through the castle’s halls, running straight for your room. Once inside, you locked the doors, and fell to the floor sobbing.

“What an awful mistake I’ve made.” You cried to yourself.

You were too distraught to notice Natasha emerging from one of your rooms. She’d just changed your bedding.

“Your highness? Ellaria? What’s the matter? Are you hurt?” She panicked, dropping the crumpled sheets to the floor.

You shook your head, sitting your back against the door. “Only in heart, Nat. I’ll be fine.”

“What’s happened?” She asked, crouching next to you.

You shook your head, allowing fresh tears to fall. “I’m merely coming to grips with what lies ahead of me in this life. I’m not sure I’m equipped for it, as it turns out.”

She didn’t understand, but then again, you didn’t need her too.

“Natasha, I’m going to lay down for a bit before dinner.” You said, as she assisted you off the floor.

Nat nodded, “If you need me, just call. I’ll be here in a moment.”

As you climbed into bed, you heard Natasha leave. The decision to wallow in your misfortunes exhausted you, but at least now you knew why James would not and could not love you.

His heart belonged to another.

Dinner came far too fast. You’d almost told Nat not to bother, and that you weren’t hungry, but you knew she’d never stand for that.

As you walked into the dining room, you notice the table was set beautifully. Candelabras, and beautiful white linens with a navy table runner.

...and three place settings.

You’d never been joined for dinner. Not once in the time you’d been here.

The doors opened and in walked James, with the blonde woman on his arm. Your stomach churned, is he really parading his indiscretions in front of you?

“Ah, Princess.” He called, realizing you were in the room.

He dropped the woman’s arm, and moved to stand next to you.

“This is an old friend of mine, Sharon Carter. She’s come to meet the new queen.” She smiled.

“Lady Stark.” She curtsied.

“Princess Stark, actually.” You corrected. Did she not just hear James call you by your title?

She smiled partly, “Forgive me. It’s an honor to meet Buchanan’s future queen. James has told me quite a bit about you.”

You smirk, “Has he? I was certain he knew nothing about me.”

You walked away and stood near your seat, one of the servers pulled it out for you. “Thank you.” You smiled.

James stared at you, but you didn’t care. He’s disrespected you to your face and worse, behind your back. If he wants to treat this marriage like a forced folly, then so be it.

“Sharon, where are you from?” You asked.

She put her wine down, “Buchanan, actually. Born and raised. Though now I live in Shieldian.”

You nodded, uninterested. “What made you leave Buchanan?”

She looked to James, almost for permission.

“You can tell me, dear. I won’t bite.” You said, taking a morsel of your dinner into your mouth.

Sharon cleared her throat, opening her mouth to speak, when James cut her off.

“I’ve invited Sharon to stay with us until the engagement ball. Maybe help you in planning it, if you’d like.” James jaw was clenched, clearly feeling the tension in the air.

You laughed aloud, “Yet another thing I wasn’t informed of. I hadn’t even known about a ball. When is it, your majesty? Am I even invited?”

“Ellaria...” he warned.

You backed your chair out from the table. “Lovely to meet you, Sharon. I do hope you enjoy your stay. Please let James know if you need anything, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to oblige.”

Sharon stood, curtsied, and nodded.

James stood quickly after her, but you didn’t care to hear him speak. You walked through the corridors, and back to your room, feeling disgusted.

Some time later, you’d bathed and dressed in your nightgown—a beautiful black silk and lace piece.

You been perched on the velvet stool by your vanity, brushing your hair, when you’d heard a commotion outside of your door.

Standing and moving a bit closer, you heard the familiar voices grow closer.

“Think before you do this, Buck. Let her be.”

Steve? You thought.

“Move, Steve. I won’t ask again.” It was James, and he sounded furious.

You were frozen by your bedside. Should you pretend to be asleep? No. He’d never believe you were.

With shaking hands, you placed your brush down, and moved to sit on the edge of your bed.

The wooden door burst open without so much as a knock.

James stormed in, looking enraged. His eyes softened however, when they saw you in your nightgown.

His cerulean orbs roamed your body when you stood, but the look on his face hadn’t changed—he looked disgusted.

“Would you care to explain yourself?” He demanded.

Your eyes narrow at his words. “Explain myself? What do you mean?” You feigned your innocence.

“That display of discordance and foul manners at dinner. You were rude to a guest—my guest. In my home.” He seethed.

Your blood was on the verge of boiling.

“And tell me this, your majesty, would we have had that dinner if that woman had not been here? Would you have ever told me about who your guest was in the first place?”

He stepped closer to you as you spoke, “I heard you in the courtyard. Funny how you introduced her as simply an old friend.”

He scoffed, “Is this the kind of woman you are? Jealous of someone you don’t even know?”

Your mouth fell open at his words. You took a step back, trying to escape his venom.

“The kind of woman I am? I am Ellaria Stark. I am the daughter of a true king, I am Princess and heir to the Iron Kingdom. You will watch your words with me, James.”

His features softened. Had he expected you to cower in fear and admit your wrong-doings?

“I heard how you laughed. How you mocked me. How you dishonored my name with someone whom I’d yet to meet. What kind of a man does that to the woman he is to marry?” You asked, feeling the emotion rise in your throat.

You tried your best to swallow it, but couldn’t help the few tears stinging your eyes.

James looked down for a moment, “Those words were not meant for you.”

“But you said them, and I heard them anyway. If you feel as though I’m no more than a burden you must bare, then I see no reason to fulfill this engagement.”

The Kings eye widened. “You’re—you’re not thinking clearly. You’re letting your emotions get the better of you.”

You scoffed, wiping the tears from your eyes. “Is that what I’m doing? Tell me more about myself, since you’ve come to know me so well.”

You watched his entire posture change. Shoulders slightly slouched, his weight shifting heel to heel. He looked ashamed.

“That’s not what I meant.” He whispered.

“Marry her—Sharon. It seems that was your parents wish many years ago. Marry her, have children with her. She spoke of it quite fondly earlier in the courtyard.” You spat.

“No.” He said quickly.

“Then don’t. But I can assure you this, I will not be the woman you marry. When the people of Buchanan are forced from their homes, when families are destroyed, you can tell them why. You can tell them it was you, James Barnes, who broke a heart that wasn’t even yours to break.”

“Ellaria...” he pleaded.

“You can tell them how I tried. How hard I tried to be someone you could want. How I withstood all of you venomous words and mockery until my soul could bare it no longer. Tell them everything, James.”

He stood before you, unmoving. His eyes locked onto you, trying to think of something-anything he could say to make things right.

You pointed at him. “I will not marry this man.” You said. “I will not.”

James eyes were screaming, begging you to reconsider, but the King remained silent.

Fast footsteps approached your door. There was a thunderous knock, before Sam appeared.

“Your majesty—.” He greeted breathily. “There’s been another attack. Just West of the city.”

James suddenly perked up, “Who was involved?”

Sam caught his breath, “A farm, set ablaze. The family is safe, but they lost their animals and their crop. Their home as well.”

Rage seemingly shaken from your bones, and replaced with grief. “This has happened before?” You ask.

Sam looked to James, who simply shook his head. “This is not for you to worry about.” He said stroking your back.

They began heading for the door, Sam explaining something to him in more detail, when James stopped walking suddenly, “Go, ready my horse. I’ll meet you at the gate.” He said.

Sam nodded, and left to follow his orders. James turned and walked back towards you.

“I beg of you, please. Please do not make any decisions now. We will talk, you have my word. For now I must go.”

What could you say? Nothing. So you nod. He grips you hand, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. “Thank you, Princess.”

With that, he leaves you.

Your heart broke for the family, you made a mental note to ask James what you could do for them. If there were any resources the crown could give them to rebuild what they’d lost.

A knock at your door jarred you thoughts. “Come in.” You said.

No one responded.

“Come in!” You called a bit louder.

Still nothing.

A sigh escaped your lips as you walked for the door, opening it quickly. “Hello—“ you stopped. There was no one.

A flick of something on the ground caught your eye. At your feet was a folded price of parchment with your name on it.

You reached down for it, looking down the hall, seeing no one around.

You open the black seal on the back slowly, and unfold the parchment.

Written in a hand you didn’t recognize, in bold and clear lettering was a message that sent ice water traveling through your veins.

I know your secret.

After reading the words, you felt faint and panicked all at once. Quickly retreating back inside, you slam the door shut and lock it tight.

How? How could someone know? Surely there was no way something like this could be known by just anyone.

Crumpling the paper, you walked to your fireplace, throwing it in without a second thought.

If someone knows the truth, then that means they intend to use it against you. Why? What purpose could that have? What could they gain?

More importantly...who knows?

You weren’t sure who, but it was clear whoever it was, was no friend to you.

The smell of burning animal flesh and crops made James sick.

He hated that this is what his reign had come too. His parents had never been forced to wage war, not once in the nearly 40 years his father had reigned.

But it seems these criminals will leave him no choice.

“You highness...” Sam said walking up next to him.

“Sam?” He questioned.

Sam nodded his head toward the king, and two other guards approached, carrying someone by the arms.

They threw the man down at James’ feet.

“Speak. Now.” Sam said forcefully.

The man stayed quiet.

In a swift motion, Sam drew his sword and placed it against the mans neck.

When James saw his face, he was bloodied and beaten. He had a crazed look in his eye.

“I said speak.” Sam ordered.

The man laughed maniacally, “Your crown is tarnished, Barnes.”

Bucky cocked an eyebrow at the lunatic.

“Hydralia...Hydralia remembers. Before the Barnes family came and destroyed what was once theirs.”

“Hydralia has ceased to exist for 50 years.” James said sternly.

The man laughed again. “When a city falls, and empire rises. We’re coming for you Barnes—he is coming.”

“Who? Who sent you? What do you want with my people?” James seethed.

With a shakey voice, the man whispered, “Lord Rumlow. He’s coming to take what is rightfully his.”

James stood suddenly. Rumlow? He was said to have been killed nearly two decades earlier.

“Lies.” James spat.

Sam grabbed the mans hair, pulling back, exposing more of his neck.

“He’ll come for you. He’ll come for you both. In one fist, your crown. In the other, your bride.”

That threat made Bucky’s blood boil. Without hesitation, he grabbed the mans jaw and pulled it roughly.

“Excuse me?” He said, pushing the sword into his throat.

“The daughter of King Stark guarantees his reign. He will be usurper to not one kingdom...but two.” The man said with a twisted smile.

James released the man, throwing him down before nodding at Sam.

With the rip his sword, he silenced the man forever. Blood spattered the blade and his boots.

“What do we do, Sir?” Sam asked.

James didn’t know. He didn’t have an answer.

This had been the reality he hadn’t wanted to face. He knew it was Hydralia that was behind his parents murder, and now they threatened not only him, but Ellaria.

He must keep his people safe, of course, but she is something he cannot lose. Not before he even has her.

“Rally our troops. I want guards rotating our perimeter 24 hours a day. No one is to enter or leave this city without me knowing it, understood?”

“Yes, my king.” Sam assured.

Despite everything that maniac said, his threats to Ellaria were most troubling.

Regardless of their fight this evening, she was James’ future. One he knew he didn’t deserve.

She could have had anyone, but she accepted him, and he’d pushed her to the brink of no return.

He would convince her to stay, he had to. He must keep her safe.

James vowed to himself to fix it. Whatever he needed to do to prove to her he wanted her he would.

Whatever it takes.

Chapter Five: Secrets, Secrets Everywhere

Taglist: @iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 @lefoutoir @nickangel13 @marvelismysafezone @lilulo-12 @warmvanillafeels @star-spangled-beard-burn @ravenesque @pinknerdpanda @wintersoldierissucharide @snapcapquartet @ellen-reincarnated1967 @unlistedpond @my-drowning-in-time @supernaturalwintersoldier @kimvmarvel @roseboho @winterboobear11 @choicesloversstuff @disaffectedbarnes @igothroughphasesalot (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry!)

[antihero-writings]

Stolen Sunlight (Ch3)

Fandom: Tangled | Tangled the Series | Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure

Fic Summary: Arianna never thought she'd find herself afraid of a fourteen-year-old boy, but the events of Secret of the Sundrop won't seem to leave her.

She needs to talk to Varian in prison. Not for his sake...but for her own.

Character focus: Arianna

Notes: 

Aaand here comes another internal monologue-heavy chapter XD

This was probably the chapter that gave me the most trouble when attempting to edit over the years, so this feels really good to finish! (At least a version of it, I may edit it more as time goes on XD). I would have liked to cut down the internal monologue, but I decided to just keep it in for now. I also kind of wanted to split this chapter into more than one to make it more palatable, but the ideas tie into each other so much I felt like I couldn't really do that? By the time the next chapter came out, the connections between ideas would be lost? I don't know...

The next chapter should have more dialogue XD But be warned it may take longer, as now we're getting to the part I haven't really written. 

All your support for this fic has been such a HUGE help in giving me motivation to continue!! I definitely wouldn't have posted the next chapters so fast without all your support!! So thank you all so so SO much!!!! 

Also! I forgot to mention the songs I like for this story! I've been writing this for so many years I have a list of songs for this fic XD but the two songs I thing fit most for this fic (especially the themes in this chapter) are "Towards the Sun" by Rihanna and "The Sun is Rising" by Britt Nicole.

P.S. I’m thinking of creating a Tangled-specific side blog (mostly as a Tangled-only writing blog, but I’ll likely reblog other Tangled related things there too), do you guys have any ideas for urls? The one I like the most right now is “two-words-where-one-will-do” XD

Chapter 3: Burglarize, Criticize, Sympathize

When she arrives at the dungeon’s door, carrying notebook between her hands, it is almost nightfall. The last of the day is at her back, urging her onwards. Her shoes tick against the tiles as she ventures down the hall.

Everything looks different during the day. At night the navy air was a haze, clouding her thoughts, magnifying all the negative feelings within her. Now her head is clear, and the waning blue day urges her onward, fueling all the positivity and determination in her.

“Your majesty,” the guards hold their halberds higher, puffing out their chests, as if to show they’re strong for this kingdom, “Is there something we do for you this evening?”

“Thank you, Stan, Pete.” She folds her hands and inclines her head in a sort of bow to each of them. “There is, in fact.”

They stand expectantly for her request.

“You can let me into the dungeon.”

They glance at each other.

“Of course, your majesty,” Stan bows, reaching for the door.

“Um…May we ask what this is about?” Pete steps forward, more hesitant.

Perhaps servants ought to do what their masters ask without hesitation. But, in a way, it was only fitting—some might say even more in line with their duties—for him to be apprehensive. He is concerned for his monarch’s well being after all. It wasn’t exactly normal for her to go down to the dungeon, nor is it a place a Queen would be most welcome.

“You know Varian is down there, right?” Pete speaks behind his hand when she doesn’t answer.

“I am aware. In fact, he’s the reason I’m going down there in the first place.”

Their eyes widen, then they give each other a look.

She steps forward before they can say anything more. “He’s just a boy,” she says softly.

“Uhh, yeah, a boy who fed me evil cookies!” Pete exclaims. “And let’s not forget, he kidnapped you!”

“Well…yes, that’s true. But he’s still just a boy.” She looks down at the notebook and runs her fingers along the cover. “He’s hurting, he needs help” she says half to the air, “…Besides, he can’t hurt me from behind bars.”

“But—with all due respect—your majesty—“

“I appreciate your concern,” she says in a conversation-ending way, stepping forward and placing her hand on his shoulder, “but…this is something I must do.”

They glance at each other once more, before lowering their heads and opening the doors, reluctance in their motions.

Her shoes sound against the winding stone staircase, leading her down, down into the realm beneath the castle. The last dregs of day drip from the open door along the staircase a few steps ahead of her, as if saying Hey, come on! Follow us! Don’t be afraid! We’ll be with you each step of the way.

Arianna is not doing this for him. She reminds herself of this. He was not gentle that day, and she knows prison is unlikely to have made him any tamer. He never asked for her forgiveness, whether or not he wants it, and he will not likely be kind in his responses, like the boy she had once met in the castle halls above. He no longer belongs to those halls; he haunts the space beneath them. At least, that’s what everyone thinks…including him.

She’s trying not to.

She must admit, she is doing it for him in some way; in that she, even now, even after everything he did to her, even after—or perhaps because of—the sleepless nights… she cares. Some would say it’s one of her fatal flaws. She wants him to realize there is more to him than this cell, these chains, and a few black—and one amber—rocks sticking up from the floor. He is more than metal and moonlight.

But she also knows if this is for him and him alone, she will fail in her endeavor. If she thinks she is saving a poor, lost boy’s soul, she will lose both their souls in the process, and leave them wandering in the dark.

Forgiveness has never been about the one who did the crime.

“Your majesty!” the guards patrolling the dungeon bow low. “What an honor! What can we do for you on this fine evening?”

“Thank you.” She inclines her head in return, then says without a hint of hesitation or anxiety, “You can take me to see Varian.”

“You’re…here to see… Varian?” They glance at each other. “Your majesty, with all due respect, are you sure you want to do that? Varian he…hasn’t been very cooperative.”

She gives a small, sad smile. “I understand. I’ll be very careful.”

They stand on either side of her, leading her to him.

This was something important, something she had to do. For her state of mind, and of her soul and conscience, even if no one else understood. The bars and chains would be enough to keep him from any attempts at action, and the guards would be ready to act at the moment anything went wrong.

On her walk to his cell, the other prisoners spit in her face and footsteps, laugh her name as she strides by. She had come to accept their attitudes and actions, and ignore them, a long time ago; let them have their threats, a few pitiful insults are all they have left in here, and they are not enough to make a dent in her pride anyways.

Varian is not some beast, like the one he sent after those she loved that day—(then again…neither was that creature truly a beast)—he won’t claw through the bars.

Still, as she draws nearer, her heart speeds up.

Why does stone and metal seem so feeble now, when it was unbreakable, when it was alive, then?

Maybe its the one who was using the metal; he was someone who understood what it was made of, sympathized with its chemistry.

She may know nothing of metal…but she knows what he is made of.

And she sympathizes.

They bring her to the furthest cell from the door.

Her expression softens when she sees him; he’s on the bench in the corner of his cell, hugging his knees, like the world forgot him.

Fractures of light drain across the form of a boy—even smaller and weaker than before, his hair greasy and long—and sizzle on the cold, stone floor. Though the rays dance, urging him to come play with them, as they had with Arianna, they can’t seem to cut through the shadows upon his face. Already it seemed he had told himself the sun couldn’t reach him down here, even when it was draped across his eyes.

They even chained his hands …which is more than he did with her.

She can’t exactly blame them. He is the most dangerous person in the kingdom, after all. Or so he’s called. And, being here in his presence—or, more so the presence of the memories seeing him brings—she isn’t exactly complaining about the extra precaution.

But he is still just a fourteen-year-old boy.

—(Or was it fifteen now? Had he had his birthday in this cell? She hates to think of that, of a young boy spending his birthday without presents, or parties, or a cake, or even so much as a nice wish from his dad. She tells herself that he must be fourteen still to ease the pain.)—

Sitting in the dungeon he hasn’t changed; hasn’t transformed into some sort of monster just by being caged and fed scraps. He is still so young. Just a boy, who deserved better. Fourteen years old, all rage, and pain, and grief.

The queen holds the notebook she brought—the reminder of her intentions in coming here—tighter to her chest, which itself is growing tight.

She is a queen, yes, but also a mother. Not his, but something motherly in her sees his hurt, and wants to comfort it, sing to it, read to it, hold it close, and tell it everything will work out in the end, even if she isn’t sure it will. She knows what it’s like to lose family, to have tragedy in your heartbeat.

Kindness, childhood innocence, is something people take for granted. Everyone has their troubles—more pressing matters—so, there are times when everyone brushes this kindness by, knocks it to the cobblestones, in the presence of the problems we must face and fix, here and now, while we are still young—(though we are no longer innocent ourselves). At some point everyone denounces something so bright and precious as their own conscience, as naiveté and ignorance, so as not to regret their actions. They don’t mean it, actively think it, but it’s there, all one must do is stop looking away. That compassion was all he had, all he was, at one point. A heart full, forgiving and, kind. The mistakes he made were just that; mistakes. Not some purposeful show of capability, and control.

That was before. Before the storm, and the amber, the broken promises, and the flower.

Fourteen years old, yes. But he is not a child. Maybe he wasn’t before either, but it’s different now. He’s different now. Something’s missing. Something important to making you a child. He’s missing something…someone. She knows what that’s like. She once missed someone. Something important to making her a parent.

She knew Rapunzel never meant any harm, never meant to break her promise, and that she had had to make the hardest decision of her life that day, the day she and Frederic were gone—(oh how she wished they had never left). She also knew Rapunzel hadn’t chosen wrong, nor had she chosen right, she had simply chosen, and that’s what being queen is all about. What being human is all about. …And that is everything wrong with being queen. Everything wrong with humanity. Rapunzel had just learned that too early, or perhaps too late. (Everything always felt too late when it came to Rapunzel, and it made Arianna feel sick sometimes).

The fact that the breaking of a promise, and the breaking of a heart, is enough to cause an entire kingdom falter in one night, is not something one can ever really get used to, no matter how long the crown has been sitting on their head.

But maybe—something bright, hopeful…naïve? in her wonders—though it isn’t Rapunzel’s fault… maybe it isn’t completely Varian’s either.

Maybe there isn’t ever only one at fault. Maybe the fault lines run along each of us—much like the black rocks jutting up from their kingdom’s ground—they are everywhere, in all of us alike, creating cracks in solid relationships, there’s no pattern to them, no way of really breaking them. The best we can do is try to understand them instead of ignore them. We can only hope to build bridges, and that we won’t burn them down as we cross them.

There aren’t a lot of people like Varian. In the kingdom, in the world, she supposes; fourteen-year-old boys with heads full of knowledge, and hands that liked to slip, a heart full to the brim with nature of a good kind, but a bit too bittersweet, a little too easy to break. And when his hands didn’t do what he told them, important things, like glass, and trust, shattered upon the floor. There were fourteen-year-old boys who were smart, and ones who were kind, there were clumsy ones, and funny ones, and inappropriate ones, and sly ones, but this one, with all the kindness, and intelligence, in tandem with all the clumsiness, and the grey, was a rarity. It was rare for someone to be so bright, and so dark. Most people are just one or the other.

They didn’t take into account the messes he made, how he could wreck his hometown on accident, simply because he had…what was it? a vision? a dream? an ambition? a simple hypothesis? A plot, a plan, a ploy. All depends on the word you use; words are like spells, sometimes creating the affect you intend simply by repeating them enough. He could destroy a town on accident, all because there was something, something good he wanted to do, a problem he wanted to solve, and he miscalculated a percentage. They didn’t take into account that they really should have been asking themselves, if this was a miscalculation… what kind of damage can he cause when he does the math right? If this was an accident…what kind of damage can he do on purpose?

They all shared blame for the unasked question. But when Rapunzel came home that first day she met him, Arianna never took a second to—instead of smiling at her stories, and the drawings in her journal—ask if maybe that made him dangerous.

And when her daughter came to her after the storm—her hands curled into fists, waging war against the tears in her eyes, and ran to her, burying her face in her chest, her arms around her, saying she didn’t think she wanted to be queen after all—she never once thought to ask if maybe they should send someone to go check on Varian.

Then, on that day he was not the flowery drawings Rapunzel made of him in her journal, not the boy she had met once, on a sunny afternoon, not the desperate child crying for someone to save his dad in the midst of the storm. He was still confident, and stubborn, and his words were still playful… but without the smile. He was still desperate, without a single tear, or plea for help, he was everything he once was, without the light. He was a mask, the color green shimmering in her eyes, her title, and a command to sleep. He was a cause, a curse, misguided conviction, desire, and grief. Not a fourteen-year-old boy, not compassion, not kindness, or naiveté, just that stubbornness, that desperation. Everything else, even those things that he once would never touch with his disobedient hands, became means to his end.

“I’ll make them hear me!”

…Was that all he wanted? If that was all, why couldn’t they listen? Why couldn’t they just go check on him, and see if maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t okay? They should have listened to him. One of the saddest things in the world is to watch a child’s words fall on deaf ears; to watch a child standing in a crowd, going after person after person, tugging at their clothes, trying so hard just to be heard. And eventually, if they never are, the scene either inevitably ends with anger or tears. All they had to do was listen. It would have been so simple.

When Arianna was younger, first growing accustomed to the weight of a crown, they told her that villains would topple the woman beneath, spill her blood, to reach the jewels. She would receive threats, some real—backed with blades and armor—and others empty as the hearts who made them, and she would have to learn to tell the difference. Frederic had said in a show of sweet, but somewhat sappy, sentiment, that she was ‘the kingdom’s most precious jewel’, and her protection was his first priority, no matter the cost. She was grateful for the gesture, but being an adventurer, she was perfectly capable of handling herself. Adding a crown to the weight of the life she already knew how to protect didn’t rattle her.

She never imagined that one day, she would be kidnapped, and the one to succeed would be, not bandits on the road, or separatists, or sorcerers, but…a kid.

When she woke up in his lab, chains around her ankles, the blue of his eyes not much better than the pale, emotionless glow of the mask, she still couldn’t believe the sweet kid she had once met was behind that ice. No, not this boy. Not this villain. Maybe she didn’t know him before, but when they did meet, it had struck her how bright his eyes had been. His eyes, his voice, his smile... Without that light he seemed like a different person.

“Any moment now, your highness.” he had hissed, before singing that he had made a pact with the darkness, that they deserved all this, and they he might not be ready, but he was as ready as he’d ever be…

Varian scared her.

There was no other word for it, no other way to describe it. She would have tried to deny it; it seemed silly, after all, to be afraid of a fourteen-year-old boy who had once posed no threat, who she had even joked with. In fact, she would have once laughed at the very thought that he would one day scare her. But there came a point where there was nothing left to think but the truth.

When all it took was a drop of a mistake, a mistake he made that led to the rest, a mistake her daughter made that led to a test, an amber crypt, a few hurt-soaked words…that scared her, he scared her.

Because there came a time when that green chemical he had teased her with fell and burned on the black, turning amber and solid, cracking, crawling—not inanimate crystal, but some creature, alive, after all the things she held dear—towards her…

Watching orange and golden spires crackle closer, her heart couldn’t remain steady. And, yes, it would have been scary for anyone; to sit there while imminent imprisonment, or demise—(they couldn’t know which)—crept ever closer, while they were tied to the floor, with no means of break or escape….but that wasn’t quite enough to cause this sort of reaction.

She’d faced life-threatening situations; her own death or imprisonment before. One could never face it with a steady heart, breath, and sense of reason, but there was an exhilaration to it too; being close to death made life closer too. When the bandits put swords to her throat, or some creature took her back to its lair, yes she was scared, but sometimes she’d smirk at Willow, and, as she cut herself down, as she clashed swords with the villains, she would feel so very alive.

There was nothing exhilarating this time, nothing exciting, nothing that made life feel as close as death. She’d had no one-liners or fun strategies…was she just getting old?

He was very different from the bandits she had once faced in her travels. He wasn’t some sniveling storybook villain, or routine thug just looking for some extra cash. He had much deeper reasons for doing this.

He told them that they deserved this. All this pain. That sweet boy in the sunlight thought they deserved to be torn from each other, and used for their parts. Was that possible? Was any of this possible?

He had much deeper reasons for doing this. He was hurting. He was human. And that makes for a far more terrifying villain; the toughest villains to face are not the strongest, or the most powerful… but the ones we can see ourselves in. Because we have to break the mirrors, and that may just give us seven years’ bad luck. Break our views of ourselves. Break our views of the other. And maybe see them as people like us, worthy of being saved, of forgiveness. How had it had taken her thirty-odd years to learn that?

It wasn’t he himself she was afraid of. What made fear truly latch on to her, was just how easy it all was. How one drop of his solution could create a prison of amber. How one choice could lead to a path of hatred. How easy it was for him to watch his father become entombed in a prison of gold, to lose a parent, then turn to face her daughter, and attempt to take a parent from her. All because she broke a promise; chose to save the kingdom over him. That was enough for him, enough for him to find a place for that pendulum of blame to land. What scared her more than her own peril was how easy it was for him, for this compassionate, sunlit boy, to throw everything else aside, away, shut off the light, and plunge himself into darkness.

—(And, if he was human, didn’t that mean she could do that too?)—

And, as far as the life-threatening went, what scared her most was not her fate; not he amber, nor the chains, not the kidnapping, nor the blame. Her own peril may have unsteadied her heart, but what made her blood run cold as that storm with both fear and anger was her daughter’s life and safety being teased before her. How easy it was for him to hold his friend’s life in the balance. The way she cried out in pain as he hooked her hair up to that machine—(he once did so long ago with no ill intent)—the way she cried out in pain in that lab, that lab that lab—

This fear for her daughter, more than own well-being, had been a part of her for a while now. Ever since Rapunzel was born. Even more since she came back. When she was told of the dangers of wearing a crown, she wasn’t afraid for her own fate. But when Rapunzel was born everything changed.

It was Rapunzel. Always Rapunzel. When their daughter was born, she learned there was a jewel worth more than her life, and the weight of a crown. Suddenly Frederic’s statement about ‘the kingdoms most precious jewel,’ the lengths he went to save her life, made sense.

And all too soon, she learned then what it was like to have someone you love snatched from you, without warning, or threat, or a second glance.

That night, when Rapunzel was stolen from them, just like she was another jewel.

That night, when the wind was quiet, but fast, and cold, and the moon was full, and their little sundrop was stolen away by a woman in a cloak of night.

She knows how hard it is to forgive that person. She could understand that. How hatred and revenge burn in your gut, and can corrode through your heart if left unchecked. The weight of the faultline is a heavy one. She could understand how, especially when you’re young, it would be difficult to accept such a weight upon yourself. That one might do anything and everything in their power to slough it off, to keep from breaking the mirror. And if you are simply looking for someone besides yourself to place the burden of blame on, how everyone could suddenly seem at fault. But she also knows how to move beyond vengeance, into forgiveness—or, perhaps not so far as forgiveness, but at least something that isn’t unforgiveness.

This boy is not Gothel. He is different. She knows that. He is just a boy, a boy who is unbelievably smart, a boy who was kind, but whose kindness they mistook for naiveté, and brushed aside, enough that he forgot himself. He is a boy who lost someone, just like she did. He is grieving, and misled within his own head, just like she is. And she knows how much easier it is to hate someone else, than to admit you were wrong. That they’re gone, and even if you didn’t mean to, even if it was by mistake, some of the fault lies with yourself…

She could have hated him for what he did to her. She could have hated him more for what he did to her daughter. She could have chosen revenge, and unforgiveness. No one would have faulted her for it—she wouldn’t even have to bear the weight of the faultline.

But that wasn’t her. She wasn’t going to turn around and do to him what he did to them. It had taken this long to forgive—(or something close enough)—Mother Gothel, to choose the fact that she had Rapunzel back, the light, over wallowing in the dark. She wasn’t going to throw away what she learned then, now, especially not when she knew that that light hadn’t abandoned him, even if he had tried to abandon it.

She wasn’t going to abandon him.

It was a parent he lost, and it was a parent he needed.

What mattered was not what Gothel took her from her, it was that she has Rapunzel now.

What mattered to him—whether he knew it or not—she was sure, was knowing that there was still hope, still something, someone there for him now. She had to help him realize that it was not about what he had lost, but what he still had—(which was more than they all thought. A mustard seed of kindness is more than most of us have). She wished they had arrived soon enough to teach him that earlier. She hoped she could still show him that now.

He is still fourteen-years-old. Still a kid. A kid, lost, and hurting. Despite her own animosity, she could detect the desperation in his voice, the pain flickering behind his anger when he cried “It’s not my fault! None of it is!” And when those blue eyes blew out their circuits, and swiveled to their daughter, all rage and pain, looking for somewhere, some place, someone, to blame, and his voice became so much like a beast’s growl that the adventurer in her wanted to hunt him down—

“It’s her fault.”

…But he was—he is—not a beast. Even then.

That’s what made it so scary, after all; that he was still human. It would have been easy to call him a monster. That would have made things easier on the rest of them at least, to forget he was human. Easy to lock him up and leave him. But what was scary was that he was human, and she would never be able to forget that. What made it so scary was the pain behind the growls. If she had forgotten, she could have left him here in the dark without guilt or precedent.

The part of her that wants to denounce him as a beast doesn’t want to admit there is something else there, something searching to be redeemed, searching for any last hope, and…And that was something she understood. Despite the fear, how easy it was, she knew what it was to look for anything, any single shred of hope to cling to. And how even a spiderweb of hope can save lives.

And wasn’t the ease the other thing that scared her about him? How he turned to the dark so quickly?

So no, she wasn’t going to go gently into that goodnight.

He wasn’t completely right then, about Rapunzel. But he wasn’t completely wrong either. Some of the blame didn’t find its home with him. It didn’t justify the lengths he went, and how easy it was for him to leap them, but they had left him, after all. Someone should have gone to see him, to make sure he hadn’t lost his way in the storm.

This, and one other small fact led her to believe that he wasn’t completely gone; he never chained her hands. Just her feet. He didn’t do it kindly, and she was sure he didn’t intend it to display mercy. Others may have called it an empty gesture, said So what? You were still chained, what’s the difference?

Thinking about it later, it was the smaller gestures like this that mattered, that betrayed the spiderweb’s difference between hope and despair.

It’s the hands that are dangerous; they’re what slip, and let things break, and catch us all the same. He only chained her method of escape, not her hope to twist his plans—(almost if deep down he wanted her to twist those plans, like he was giving her that thread of hope himself).

He is a fourteen-year-old boy, and they left him there, in the dungeon. And that is not something she can live with. She was the one he kidnapped, so perhaps she is the one with the most right to be angry.

But they left him to rot in here, like the Flower she hadn’t known Frederic had kept.

He stole a flower to save the one he loved…that sounded like another story she knew well, and that story had ended in disaster too.

The more she thought about, Frederic couldn’t see how, when Arianna herself was dying, he would have done anything to save her life, and how Varian, in a way, was doing the same thing. That didn’t excuse his methods, but, still, the similarities gave her pause. They were both angry, both afraid, desperate to save those they love. But Varian wasn’t a king, and his methods were not so pure, so he was left to the dungeons, his father still trapped, and the king walked the halls above, his wife safe and well, without punishment, even though they both stole the sun in the hopes of healing the hurt, making the clock reverse.

She wouldn’t have necessarily wanted things to turn out differently, still, she had to admit there was irony in the situation.

If she had been angry, if she had come down here to spit in his face, they might have called it justice.

But that is not who she is. Who she wants to be. Forgiveness may not be a word she can quite use with Mother Gothel, but she did everything she could to fight the dark then. When Rapunzel came back, she did everything she could to stop herself from locking her up and keeping her safe from everything that dared hurt her.

She let her go out and make friends with him…but letting people in meant giving them the chance to betray you. The only way to keep her completely safe was to lock her away. …But doing so would have made her the villain. And she of all people knew danger was the name of living.

Forgiving him doesn’t mean she approves of what he did. Doesn’t mean she isn’t afraid, or angry, or has fully recovered. It just means that she isn’t going to let the darkness that had taken him so easily have its way with her too. She didn’t want to leave him, she wanted him to be better, she believed that he could be—she had seen what was right in him, she had seen what was left of him. She needed to let him know that someone cared, that she believed he was human, like the rest of us. Not a villain, not a monster, and that she didn’t think he deserved to be left behind in chains. …But he had to see it too.

When she appears before him, a progression of bars and some well-trained guards don’t seem like quite enough—though once upon a time she talked to him without the bars, or the animosity, and he had seemed more than harmless then.

There are no words of respect. He doesn’t bow, or even address her, or look at her at first. She isn’t a queen here, to him, anymore; she is simply the mother of the girl who never broke a promise, except the one she made to him. She is simply a chess piece he once chained to the floor of his lab.

He doesn’t give her any sign of respect, or that he’s even noticed her. But he also doesn’t throw curse at her feet like many of the other prisoners did.

At first, he remains silent. His eyes both have somehow lost their fire, and are as electric as they were that day, glowing in the cold grey of the room.

Everything grey. No black or white here.

“Varian.” Her voice is steady and sober.

“Your highness.” His response pounces, sharp as a claw through the bars.

His words are grey too.

He merely addressed her, but there is a bite behind her words. That sting doesn’t feel so empty in his mouth as it did in those of the other prisoners—(just like how he felt different as a villain, now he feels different as a prisoner)—but the words are worn, ragged, from his voice being kept too long silent. A quiet resolve. A lost, broken conviction, but standing nonetheless. He doesn’t hiss the phrase like he did then—all dauntless, and confident he is right, and they’re all wrong, sure he cannot, will not, lose—but he also doesn’t say it kindly, in any way that asks for forgiveness, or implies respect. Nothing betrays the fact that he is a broken boy, lost and hurting. It is simply stated as a fact, hanging there in the air; she is her highness, she walks the castle high above him, and he is here, in this cell fading in the darkness below.

But she is no angel, and he is no demon, even if everyone else treats him like one.

He is just a boy. She has to remind herself of that. Over, and over, until it finally sticks. That, and that she is not doing this for him.

She is doing this for herself. For her own heart. If she doesn’t forgive him, if she tells herself that the light cannot—or worse, should not—reach him down here, she really is letting darkest parts of herself win.

Forgiveness has never been about the one being forgiven, but about the one doing the forgiving.

[airis-paris14]

Starlight 5

Summary: Amani is an orphaned heiress who’s spent most of her life raising her younger sister. T’Challa is a widowed King and Father. Neither of them is expecting much from their night at the Lotus. But the coming months have many milestones in store for these young adults. Will becoming a family be one of them?

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving y’all!

1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6

“Madiyson we’re going to be late!” Amani yelled at her friend who’d been doing her makeup for the past hour. The heiress sighed and buckled her heel shut around her ankle. She double-checked that her purse had her ID, insurance cards, some cash, and a portable phone charger. She threw in her lipstick de jour and shut the clutch. “Madiyson,” Amani yelled for her friend again. Her phone buzzed in her hand and she smiled glancing at her new message.

T’Challa: and I take it you aren’t particularly thrilled about having to work tonight?

Amani: Not even a little bit

Amani grinned. It’d been two months since she spent the night with T’Challa and Ada. Before she left the next day he’d made sure he’d gotten her number. They’d talked every day all day for the last 60 days. Unfortunately, T’Challa had been busy at home and didn’t know the next time he’d be in the states. That night while watching the movie she’d ended up wrapped in his arms and she missed him. They’d shared kisses on the couch, and one final one before she’d left the hotel the next afternoon. She couldn’t lie and say she didn’t really really missed him. “You ready?” Madiyson’s voice broke Amani’s daydreaming. “Huh?” Amani placed her phone in her clutch.

“Who are you texting?” A grin snuck its way across Madiyson’s face. “No one,” Amani mumbled trying to hide the blush sneaking on her face. She knew it wouldn’t show on her cheeks but her friends could read her like a book, Madiyson would know she was embarrassed instantly. “Um-hmm. It must be baby daddy from the restaurant that’s got you grinning like that,” Madiyson teased following her friend out of the house. Amani knew how to handle this. Just play dumb for long enough and Madiyson would lose interest relatively quickly. “Who’s baby daddy?”

“The fine man that came in with his daughter? You told me y’all reconnected at the last party and he spent the night over your house. Don’t act like he ain’t man up and finally get that number. If a dude stays at your house without trying to hit it, he likes you.” Madiyson shrugged. Amani locked the front door and unlocked her car. The two women piled in the car and Amani pulled off. “Or he just wants to be friends with me?” She spoke up a few minutes later. “Ah, so you admit that’s who you were texting?” Shit. Amani froze, “no he still hasn’t called.”

“You’re a horrible liar sis,” Madiyson chuckled. “New message from T’Challa,” the cars automated voice flowed out through the stereo. “Oh who’s T’Challa?” Madiyson smirked and reached for Amani’s phone. The heiress prompt smacked her hand away. “Leave it alone,” Amani whined. “Come on sis, I don’t know why you’re trying to hide that you like him.”

“I’m not trying to hide anything.”

“You’re really bad at lying we’ve gotta fix that soon,” Madiyson mock sighed.

“I just, I don’t know what we are right now if we are anything. I don’t want to go around telling y’all about him and we’re just temporary,” Amani relented and explained her feelings to her friend. “See was that so hard?” Madiyson teased. “Shut up,” Amani chuckled.

“In all seriousness I understand. And I respect that. I just want you to be happy. So if he makes you happy figure out what y’all are doing,” Madiyson shrugged. “Do you want to be more than friends?”

“I don’t know. I think I do, but he’s so far.”

“We’ll FaceTime is a thing for a reason,” Madiyson offered.

“Yeah. If it’s not the same as having him in my arms you know?”

“Woah Woah Woah! Time out! Flag on the play! blow the whistle! Y’all have been in each other’s arms?” Madiyson exclaimed. Amani sighed at her own slip-up. She and her big mouth. This conversation would never end now. “We may or may not have had a movie night in his hotel room a few months ago. “What! Why didn’t you tell me!” Madiyson pouted.

It isn’t that big of a deal. We just watched a movie and went to bed.”

“You spent the night!

Amani inwardly groaned. This big mouth just didn’t know when to stop. “ Yeah it was late and he offered me a guest bedroom,” Amani explained. Things didn’t exactly happen in that order, but what Madiyson didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. “Can we switch topics now?” Amani pouted.

“What else you’re wanna talk about then? And it better be good to replace this conversation.” Madiyson sassed. “How about we’re here?” Amani pulled her car into valet. “Sure but we will finish this conversation later,” Madiyson pointer at her friend before allowing the valet to help her out of the car.

“Thank you,” Amani smiles at the worker before handing him her keys. She walked around the car making sure to the train of her outfit off of the ground. Once Madiyson had Her train in hand as well, they headed into the event together.

Two hours later found Amani conversing with one of the board of directors. He was explaining the idea he was going to propose at the next board meeting. She knew that the gentleman truly wanted her feedback and approval, but Amani couldn’t help the fact that her mind was wandering. She decided that she would ask the gentleman to email her a copy of his proposal and she would offer the best feedback she could that way. It was true that Amani, nor Amare, had a heart for business, but they did truly care about their parent’s legacy. Amani had watched her parents struggle for too long to build this business. There was no way she was going to watch it fall. So even though she and Amare weren’t on payroll, she made sure to keep abreast of what management had in store for her parents’ company. Feeling bad for having virtually ignored this man’s whole spiel, Amani decided to politely interrupt and ask him to email her, when a familiar voice washed over her spine. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering If I may have a word with the lady,” the voice asked. The look on the board member’s face gave the king away. “Of course your majesty,” the man stuttered. Amani felt a genuine smile erupting on her face for the first time tonight. She didn’t bother trying to fight it when she turned to look at T’Challa. “I’m sorry for the interruption,” Amani turned back to the board member, “f you email me your proposal I’d be more than happy to provide my full opinions and continue this conversation soon,” Amani offered. “I’ll send it to you tomorrow,” the man smiled. “Have a good night Ms. Okeke, your majesty.” Amani watched him walk out of earshot before turning back to the man that had been occupying her phone and mind for the past two months.

“Perfect timing as usual,” Amani smiled up at the king. Her heart fluttered at the sight of his smile. “I was known for being quite the prince charming back in my day,” the king smiled. “Care to sneak away with me?” T’Challa offered Amani his arm. She glanced over at Madiyson who’d been talking to a young exec from a sister company. Seeing them now moving to the dance floor she decided she’d text her to let her know where’d she had gone. “Where did you have in mind, your majesty?” T’Challa smiled, “I’m afraid the balcony will have to stand in for some great adventure. I didn’t know I’d see you tonight.”

“Me neither, I thought you weren’t going to be back in the country for a while?” Amani asked as they strolled around the room towards the balcony. Her cape slid behind her as they moved around the hotel ballroom. “I didn’t plan on it. I was hoping to surprise you this weekend, I heard about this event from another company I’m looking to invest in. When you said you had to work, I didn’t know that you’d be here.” The king explained. “I guess we both got lucky then,” Amani grinned. They stepped out into the night air. T’Challa stooping to help Amani and her cape get settled on a bench stationed on the balcony. “Thank you,” the mocha-skinned woman blushed. “You look beautiful,” T’Challa smiled. Amani blushed and played with the beading on her gown. Her dress was a true nude for her skin tone, which was a rarity for black women. It was covered in a layer of sheer white fabric and delicately beaded all the way down. A sheer white cape hung down from her shoulders and created a simple but dramatic train. “You look very handsome yourself,” Amani smiled up at him. “I’ve missed you,” she admitted as they smiled at each other. “I’ve missed you as well love,” The king leaned closer. “I missed doing this too,” he smirked before engulfing Amani in a kiss. His lips took over her mind as she kissed him back.

T’Challa pulled away a few seconds later. She was glad someone was thinking straight. This was not the best place to get carried away. Amani placed one last peck on his lips before sitting back fully. She bit her lip and looked away. “I should probably text Madiyson and let her know where I am.” She pulled out her phone and sent a quick message. She felt T’Challa’s eyes staring at her as she placed her phone back in her clutch. When she looked up he pulled her into another kiss. “Last one,” he whispered as he pulled away. Amani couldn’t fight the giant smile that took over her face. Her heart was racing and her stomach was fluttering. Just the thought that he was just intoxicated by her as she was by him was a major confidence booster. “How’ve you been?” Amani asked, she let her hand rest on the bench in between her and T’Challa. She observed his profile in the city lights. The sound of traffic surrounded them while the stared at the city and her lights. She’d never felt more at peace. “Busy, but good. Mostly missing you. Ada misses you as well.”

“I miss her too,” Amani brightened at the thought of the little girl. “How have you been heiress?” T’Challa takes her hand in his own. He rubs circles along the back of her hand while she gathers her thoughts. “I’ve been good. Aching to get out of the country. I’ve been seriously thinking about starting my own event planning company. I think a little vacation could give me the time I need to finally put it into motion,” Amani revealed. “I think that sounds like a great idea,” T’Challa squeezed her hand.

“Really? You don’t think it sounds crazy?”

“No. I think distance can very well bring clarity. It sounds like you’re serious and putting a lot of thought into this. You aren’t taking it lightly and rushing it.”

“Thank you. I’m still a little nervous but I think it’ll be good for me to do something I love for once.”

“I agree. Where were you thinking about going?” T’Challa moved closer to her on the bench. “I’m not sure yet,” Amani thought, “I’ve gotta decide whether I want to stay domestic or go international. Maybe I’ll come visit you,” Amani teased. T’Challa grinned, “ You are always more than welcome.” The two fell into a comfortable silence once more. “I’m glad I saw you tonight,” Amani blurted.

“Me too Amani. Can I take you out tomorrow night? If you aren’t busy or don’t have plans,” the king asked. “Of course. Tomorrow is my off day, so I’m all yours.” Amani swore she saw something ignite behind T’Challa’s eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came. “I have some meetings in the morning, but I’ll pick you up at 5:30?”

“I’ll be waiting.” Amani smiled, “How should I dress?”

“You look beautiful in anything,” T’Challa grinned. Amani rolled her eyes, “Really though, you always look so nice. I don’t want to wear jeans and then you show up in a suit.”

“It’s just a nice dinner and a surprise. Nothing Formal.” The king explained. Amani nodded. “Kumkani,” someone called from the balcony doors. Amani started to move away but T’Challa held her in place, with her hand in his lap. “Something has happened, we must leave quickly,” The woman relayed to T’Challa. Amani could feel the man tense and sigh. “No rest for the weary huh?” she teased in a whisper. The king offered her a small smile. “Go, I understand,” she reassured. The king nodded and stood, helping her up off the bench with him. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he reassured. Amani blushed as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. She offered a small wave as he backed off of the balcony before following the woman away. She checked her phone and realized that she and T’Challa had been on the balcony for a little over and hour. Ready to head home she spotted Madiyson talking to the same young man in a corner. She walked over and smiled at her friend. “Hey,” Madiyson smiled, “Marquis, this is my friend Amani. Amani this is Marquis. He works at Meridian Corp. We used to go to high school together.”

“Nice to meet you, Marquis,” Amani shook his hand. “Nice to meet you as well Ms. Okeke.” he smiled. “How’d you-” Amani started. “There isn’t a soul in this room who doesn’t know who the Okeke daughters are,” Marquis explained. “Oh. Well please call me Amani, a friend of Madiyson’s is a friend of mine.”

“Good to know Amani,” Marquis smiled, “I’ll leave you two alone. I really enjoyed seeing you again Madiyson.”

Madiyson blushed, “I enjoyed seeing you again too.” Marquis pulled her in for a hug, “I’ll call you soon,” he promised as he pulled away. With another nod at Amani, the young executive vanished into the crowd. “I didn’t know you were popular like that in these circles. You must be like the princess of Atlanta high society.” Madison gawked. “I guess,” Amani laughed. “You ready to call it a night?”

“Yeah girl, you were right. Marquis is the only remotely interesting person I’ve met all night,” Madiyson laughed. “I tried to tell you,” Amani joined in as they left the ballroom and got onto a balcony. Her phone buzzed in her purse. She took it out and smiled at the message.

T’Challa: I wish I didn’t have to leave, the emergency resolved itself before I could even get there

Amani: Aww poor baby. There’s always tomorrow though.

T’Challa: Indeed. I’ll be counting down the seconds until I can see you again.

Amani: Charmer.

T’Challa: Is it working?

Amani: You’re insufferable.

T’Challa: you seem to tolerate it pretty well.

Amani rolled her eyes.

Amani: Good night your majesty.

T’Challa: goodnight Amani.

“Amani!,” Madiyson’s shout pulled her out of her daze. “Yeah, sorry what’s up?”

“I asked where you vanished too earlier,” Madiyson asked. “Oh, T’Challa was here so we-”

“You saw him?! You promised you’d introduce me.”

“He had to leave early,” Amani explained. “What’d y’all talk about? I thought he wasn’t going to be in the country soon?”

“I’ll tell you all about it if you drive,” Amani chuckled.

“Can I spend the night?” Madiyson looked at her friend, her hand out awaiting the keys. “Of course.” Amani laughed.

“Then hand me the keys Mamacita! I’ll drive you anywhere you wanna go.”

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