#fortified manor

[tarnishedinquirer]

Into the Old Keep

Returning to the Liftside Chamber, there was this one stubborn door that refused to open. Which was frustrating because it led right down into that mystery abyss.

I tried dropping down from the ledge right outside the chamber, but only got a sprained ankle for my troubles and the realization that, while I could keep going down, I could not get back up to unlock that door.

So, time to go up. I took the lift to the top of the tower, and found a very peculiar sight. Miniature jars, like Alexander but much smaller. Seemed almost cute.

....until the mother jar showed up. It tried to smash me with its bulk while the little ones pounded me with their tiny fists. Once I shattered them, the big one dropped a Living Jar Shard and a.... a.... a meat dumpling.

Oh gods those are teeth.

A pungent raw meatball, made succulent by virtue of being on the verge of turning. Heals, but also poisons the user. Not recommended for those who prefer to know the origin of their meats.

Thanks, voice. If I run out of Crimson Tears, I'll just die instead.

This confirms what I suspected about Alexander. He is definitely filled with actual people, mashed into a pulp. The though turned my stomach even more than the "dumpling" did.

The jars actually were alive. Not just animated. The meat had turned into some sort of...tissue.

A fragment of a living jar, hardened after its death. Such fragments command a high price due to the magical power locked within. This leaves the living jars unfortunate targets for poachers.

So why were there so many of these broken around the Weeping Peninsula Minor Erdtree?

Another thing I found in the jar nest was a Cracked Pot, like the kind I use for holy water or fire. Are these jar eggs or something? If I put human meat in it, would it grow into one of those smaller jars and attack me? Curiosity and disgust warred in me, but disgust won. I would not be investigating that.

Past that was a very strange collapsed part of the floor. It looked less like a collapse and more like an impact. Like something landed here and dug a furrow, collapsing several floors before coming to a stop. It was hard to even envision what this place was before the collapse, and the only way I could make sense of it was that this is a place where construction stopped. Whatever renovations Godrick was making had completely petered out at this spot. Even if the rest of it was sometimes a confusing patchwork, the construction here did not match up at all.

I climbed up some scaffolding to a ledge, then across to a window. When I stepped out, I saw another one of those red Banished Knights. She was kneeling over the corpse of one of those fire-breathing Warhawks, with a regular Stormhawk joining her.

Had she killed it? If so, she still clearly held great respect for the beast. The feeling was mutual, as the other hawk was docile and joining her mourning. This all but confirmed for me that the hawks were intelligent. Perhaps the Banished Knights were once kin to the hawks of Stormveil, but the Warhawk hadn't recognized her due to its far more invasive prosthetics.

I continued on my path through a storage room, across more scaffolding, up to an even worse collapsed floor, and into what seemed like an even older part of the castle.

Here, the construction was completely different. It felt even more familiar. The only inhabitants were long-neck commoners, who didn't appreciate my intrusion. Under the stairs, someone had stashed a Manor Towershield

An iron greatshield large enough to cover the entire body. Depicts the Roundtable Hold, gathering place of champions.

God. It just hit me. I finally figured it out. Why the older parts of the castle seemed so familiar. The arms, the armor, the whole thing. I'd been looking at it for so long without seeing the significance, I didn't even notice it anymore.

The Roundtable Hold. This castle was exactly like the Roundtable Hold. At least, originally. The same arms and armor that decorate Stormveil could be found there.

Before the gaudy facades. Before the curse of pox and thorns.

At one time, Stormveil and the Roundtable Hold had been twin castles.

I stepped out on the battlement, and a rune message greeted me. Far more articulate than your typical runes, and with Rogier's visage. I knew that if I followed his instructions, I'd finally reach the secret of Stormveil Castle.

Were the knights banished from the Roundtable Hold?

What kinship do they have with the hawks?

What impacted this area of the castle?

Do Living Jars grow from the Cracked Pots?

What awaits me down below?

[racefortheironthrone]

Following on the castle question, do more nobles in ASOIAF have castles compared to real life history

It's more the case that most of the nobles we meet in ASOIAF are from the higher end of the nobility - the Lords Paramount and Principal Houses of the Seven Kingdoms - who are more likely to own castles.

By contrast, in the Dunk & Egg stories, we see more of the lower end of the nobility. Given our protagonists' point of view, in these stories we encounter hedge knights and sworn swords and landed knights like Ser Eustace Osgrey, whose Standfast is described as a fortified towerhouse:

This is exactly what a major type of fortified manor house looks like - because the artist probably referenced a photo of a surviving fortified manor house from our world. And in Sworn Sword, we see major intraclass inequality between marginal landed knights like Ser Eustace and the more well-established and well-capitalized small lords like the Webbers of Coldmoat - who can afford to maintain a small castle (with its eponymous moat), which happens to include having enough soldiers to back up its monopoly over the Chequey Water against rival claims.

While George R.R Martin's chops as a medievalist are often called into question, I think his knowledge base is a lot stronger when it comes to topics that older historiography focused on (wars, arms and armor, castles, dynastic politics) and a lot weaker on social history topics that have become more prominent in recent decades (the material life of the masses, medieval race, gender, and sexuality, etc). I would be very much surprised if GRRM hadn't collected the same illustrated books of Arms and Armor, the Medieval Castle, and so forth that I had when I was a young nerd.

[writing-fanics]

More Than Anything

Lucifer Morningstar x F!Reader

[summary: final battle lives lost but the show must go on!]

Masterlist > chapter I > chapter ii > chapter iii > chapter iv

[a/n: since it’s technically been a month Lucifer and Y/n’s relationship has blossomed but not into a romantic one just yet. Just maybe the occasional flirting but I will have flashbacks to moments to have it not feel rushed.]

[also y/n likes making cursed animal combinations like a dolphin with wings.. being in hell for a month has brought her out of her shell so much she’s much happier. also the reader is whatever height you are, but to me she's slightly taller than Lucifer. sorry if this seems rushed.. its alot of work y/n trained with vaggie in weapon combat. she also kinda had help from lucifer. if ya'll want I'll write another side chapter about what lucifer and her did in combat..]

word count: 3,789 {6-7 pages)

[warning: major spoilers for episode 7-8: mentions of sex: slight smut in the end (full poorly written smut in side chapter): death spoilers:

song

[Y/n] helped prepare the hotel while Charlie and Vaggie were out, she still couldn't help but think that if it all were to end tomorrow. Should she confess her feelings to Lucifer. She tried but failed weeks ago, and now with extermination day being 24 hours away. But even then would it even matter, if she did? If they were going to die what's the point? But then..

"Ugh, why do feelings have to be so complicated?!" She groaned to herself, as she helped fortify the hotel. In her own thoughts. Yet, she remembered how awkward Lucifer was acting this morning when they were eating breakfast. It could've been because of extermination day in the next 24 hours or maybe something else?

"A-Are you okay?" She asked worriedly, at Lucifer. Who scoffed in response and smiled nervously, "Y-Yeah, I'm alright fine perfectly fine." He sweats, as he looked at her nervously.

He watched as she left the manor to go help his daughter and the hotel prepare, and cursed to himself.. God, he was absolutely infatuated with her and couldn't even confess his feelings, for her. What if she dies? No don't think that he couldn't even bare the thought of losing her again.

He reached into his pocket and revealed the rubber duck with butterfly wings, and started at it softly.

[ Flashback ]

[Y/n] bit down on her lower lip, as she tried to make her first rubber duck. Squinting her eyes as she tried, to attach some butterfly wings. She smiled, jumping out of her chair in her guest room and ran down the hallway. She bursts into the room,“Lu, I did it!” She exclaimed, holding the rubber duck in her hands. Flapping its wings occasionally lifting itself off the palm of her hand. Flapping its wings.

“Wow, you did an even better job than me.” He said, causing her to blush. But shaking her head, “Nah, yours are way better.” She said, smiling looking at him.

She looked down at the rubber duck nervously, the extermination was only a few days away and people were preparing for a bloodbath a massacre, an all out war.

“I-I..” She sighed and downcasted at the ground, before shaking her head and smiled. “I made caramel apple pancakes.” She said, smile and Lucifer’s eyes lit up.

“Why didn’t you just say so!” He exclaimed, before she knew it he was already out the door of his study. Towards the delicious caramel apple pancakes.

She smiled sadly, looking down at the rubber duck. Pressing the secret button on its wing. “I love you!” It said its robotic child like voice exclaimed, and she looked down sadly. “I feel butterflies in my stomach when I’m with you,” she clenched her fist, almost crushing the duck but stopped. Looking at it sadly, “I really am pathetic.” she sighed, she walked over towards the shelf.

That had a rubber duck with similar top hat, to that of Lucifer and hesitantly placed it beside it. On the shelf, before backing away and leaving going downstairs to eat breakfast with Lucifer.

- ——

Lucifer entered his study after [Y/n] had left, to help prepare for war being a recently fallen angel and all. He sat at his desk, he glanced over at the shelf. Noticing a new rubber duck, figuring she must’ve placed it there.

He admired it in awe, the translucent butterfly wings. He remembered how much she loves butterflies, he remembered when she joked about combining the two. A Duckerfly. A duck with wings. Even then she was absolutely adorable, her jokes always seemed to make him laugh.

He titled his head noticing a hidden button on its wings, pressing it curiously. “I’m a duck with wings!” The duck said, and he chuckled.

“Duckerfly!”

“I love you!”

He stopped for a moment, processing what the duck had just said. Pressing the button again, “I get butterflies when I’m with you,” His heart seemed to skip a beat, he pressed it again.. and again and again. Until it looped back to it saying, ‘I love you.’

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

[Y/n] smiled as she returned the hug, wrapping her arms around Charlie. “Thank you for everything,” thanked Charlie, looking up at the older woman smiling. "Ever since I was little," She said, looking up at her, "The stories, my dad used to tell me about you inspired me." and the older woman, looked at her and smiled her heart swelling with joy.

She chuckled softly, "When I was in heaven, I thought he'd forgotten about me." said [Y/n], her gaze soften as she reminisced of memories of the past. "Seems, it was quite the opposite who could've thought he'd tell stories of me to his own daughter." She said, smiling as she took Charlie by both hands.

She looked down at her, "You're like the child I've always wanted but never had," She said, the princess of hell couldn't help but chuckle, reminding her of the weird rivalry both her father and Alastor had.

"But, I'm not trying to replace your mother." She reiterated, "Not at all, I just want you to know. That I'm always here for you." She said, looking at her. Charlie pulled back from the hug, "I can see why my dad likes you so much," said Charlie, causing the woman in front of her cheeks to go red.

"Ah...Um.." She mumbled, but Charlie placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled, "It's okay, I think the two of you would be cute together." said Charlie, smiling. Even though she missed her mom Lilith, and that her dad might still possibly miss her. She couldn't help but notice even though on the small instances, her and her dad have spoke before all this.

She could see how happy he was having [Y/n] here, in Hell. She noticed the occasional flirting. Yes, it might sound weird but she loved seeing her dad happy more than anything. "U-Um, thank you." stammered [Y/n].

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

[Y/n]'s eyes widened as the force-shield shattered, but she snapped back as an exorcists attacked her and she could've sworn, she heard her shout traitor. She made quick use of her weapon, and ended the exorcists life by cutting off her head.

Patches of her clothes covered in yellow ichor, a tiny cut on her cheek she sustained when fighting an exorcists. But slowly, everything seemed to go downhill as the one who was supposed to take care of Adam. Alastor had suddenly disappeared leaving Charlie to fear the worst.

[Y/n]'s eyes widened in horror as Sir Pentious' airship was destroyed, right before everyone's eyes. "No!" Charlie wailed, as tears brimmed her eyes in shock. She'd barely gotten to know Sir Pentious, in the month she was in Hell.

But, he seemed like a good person who genuinely wanted to redeem himself. Who gave trust to his friends. and in the end made the ultimate sacrifice. Gripping the weapon tightly in her hands, she charged towards Adam.

Almost impaling him, but he dodged out of the way. "Why look who it is?" He said, looking down at her mockingly. She glared at him, "Why isn't it little miss traitor." He said, and she snarled gritting her teeth as she lunged towards him, but he laughed and dodge.

"Wow, you look even worse than you did in Heaven." He mocked, and she pursed her lips eyes filled with rage. As she dodged his attacks, "Says the arrogant bastard who let himself go after Eden," She spat, and he glared at her sending a beam that almost hit her.

But wasn't so lucky about the next one, causing her to groan in pain. "Wow, you really suck at this don't you." He laughed, god she wanted to rip out his fucking tongue. "Do you ever stop fucking talking?!" She shouted, angrily.

Adam dodged her attacks as she sent them his way. Swiftly flying out of the way angering her, as her eyes started glowing as she swings at him with the angelic weapon. She glared at him angrily, “All this for a dick you can’t suck!” shouted Adam, and she glared at him angrily. Gritting her teeth, “Ugh! Fuck you.” she spat. Missing him once again.

“You really are pathetic you know that?” He laughed. Before she could even react a yellow beam, struck her already bleeding side. Gold ichor dripping from the wound, her movement faltering, "S-Shut the fuck up!" She shouted angrily, but a blast sent her flying backwards. Causing her to crash into, the hotel knocking her unconscious.

“Y/n!” Charlie shouted, watching as she plummet to the ground. But she didn’t, and felt a pair of arms wrap around her holding her, she looked up and smiled. She quickly wrapped her arms around him, “Lu,” She whispered.

Then her eyes widened, “Please tell me you didn’t hear that.” She looked embarrassed, cheeks red. Lucifer cocked his head to the side,“Not all of it just the, a dick you can’t suck part.” He said, her cheeks bright red. How she wanted to curl up into a ball and hide in a cave.

She pursed her lips inward and groaned, “I would kiss you now-” Her cheeks turned red, as a tomato as he said that. Even more so as he looked down at her with a mischievous grin, “But, we can do that later.” He said, a grin on his face then turning to are at Adam.

Glaring at him as well as she pulled away from Lucifer, “I’ll take you up on that offer, but first.” She clicked her tongue, gripping her weapon as she glared at Adam.

Seething her teeth, as she gripped the weapon tightly. “Let’s get this fucker.” She spat, with swift speed flying off towards the angel.

Lucifer smiled watching as she flew off, “That’s my girl,” He smiled, as the two of them flew off towards Adam. Following after her, the look of anger on his face seeing his daughter in danger.

Lucifer cackled as he looks down at Adam, dodging his attacks."So, this is what you've been up to since Eden?" said Lucifer, a he flew around him."Gotta say, you really let yourself go buddy." He said, as he transformed into a snake. Adam grabbing him by the tail, and trying to throw him. But before he could Lucifer transforms into a duck. "You judgin' me? You're the most hated being in all of creations." Adam shouted, angrily at him.

"Well, your first wife didn't seem to hate what I had to offer." said Lucifer, using his fingers to make a 'V' shape bringing it to his lips. "or the second. Bow-chicka-wow-wow." said Lucifer, as he makes a thrusting motion in the air. Angering Adam, "I'll fucking end you!!" Adam shouted, as he chased after Lucifer.

[Y/n] flew up towards them, she laughed mischievously, as she transformed into different animals. Teasing him, “For someone who calls himself dick master, your own wives didn’t even want yours!” She laughed, grinning as you transformed into a dolphin with wings.

She slapped him using the tail across the face. Smiling mischievously, “Ugh! You bitch!” He shouted, angrily trying to grab her but she ducked. Flying away swiftly.

“The bully gets bullied,” She cackled, making faces at him before disappearing in a poof of yellow clouds. She giggled, as Lucifer took her by the hand. And the two of took pride in dancing to dodge, Adam’s attacks. “Oh, can’t catch us..” The two of them teased.

“That duck you left me,” He said, as the two of you disappeared from Adam, dodging his attacks. Her cheeks turned red as she looked at him, “I love you too,” He said, and her heart swelled with joy. Really was he saying this now?!

Adam gagged in disgust, “Stop moving you freaks!” Adam shouted, causing the king of hell to shake his head, “Hey, I’m trying to confess my love over here!” shouted Lucifer, causing her cheeks to turn even redder. Adam growing angrier, as he glared at them.

Adam groaned in anger, as he sent a beam of yellow ichor towards them. But Lucifer holding [Y/n] close protectively, as he swiftly pulled her out of the way. “Charlie!” She shouted worriedly, and swiftly as she said that Lucifer was off towards his daughter.

[ slight time skip ]

[Y/n] placed her hand on her bleeding side, as she stood up to her feet. Glaring at Adam as she stood beside everyone else, "You don't get to end this." Adam said, as he stood to his feet weakly. Climbing out of the hole, "I'm fucking Adam! I'm the fucking man," He shouted, looking at the sinners and demons in front of him, "and you're just some fucking clown or something." He spat, glaring at them.

"I started everything on Earth." He shouted, rambling. "All of mankind came from theses fucking nuts." He shouted, staring at them. While they just stood their listening to his tantrum, "You all should be worshipping me." He screamed.

"you ungrateful, disgusting fucking losers!" He shouted,Adam wails, and everyone stars at him in shock seeing the dagger protruding from his stomach. "Hey, you got something sticking out of your..your thing there." said Lucifer, pointing nonchalantly at the dagger sticking out of his stomach.

Adam fell forward, revealing Niffty holding the blade in her hands. "Niffty?" Charlie said in shock. Niffty sat there for a moment before, "Stab! Stab! Stab!" Niffty shouted, as she laughed manically. As she continued to stab him repeatedly. "Blood! ha ha ha!" She laughed, a crazed look in her eyes.

Lute screamed, as she rushed towards Adam turning him over as he died. Crying over her friend and leader, who sent her a final smile before dying. "It's over," Charlie and [Y/n], said glaring down at Lute.

"Take your little friends," said Lucifer, as he glared at Lute angrily in his demon form, "and go home." He shouted, is voice distorted and demonic. "Please.!" He asked, relaxed and calm yet with a sinister tone to his voice. Everyone watched, as the exorcists retreated back to heaven.

Lucifer sighed and turned back towards everyone, "Alright who wants some pancakes." asked Lucifer, as he wrapped an arm around [Y/n]'s waist. "This lovely lady right here makes some delicious, caramel apple pancakes." He said, a huge grin on his face. She smiled sheepishly, as she looked at everyone. Niffty raised her hand. "But first, I need to get this bandaged." She said, looking at the others smiling softly as she pointed at the wound.

She winced in pain as she climbed, over the rubble. “I’m okay,” She smiled, looking at Lucifer. She looked over towards Charlie, as she stared at the destroyed hotel. Everyone looked at her sadly, as she stared at the destruction and bloodshed that the war had caused. Holding KeeKee in her arms, she looked down at the banner they had made for Sir Pentious month's ago. Tears welled up in Charlie's eyes, realizing the ultimate sacrifice.

"He did it for us, the ultimate sacrifice," Charlie sang, as she choked back a sob. Vaggie placed her hand on her shoulder, "He gave me his trust, and look how we pay the price," She sang, as she walked away. She looked around at the cranage and destruction, "This bloodshed could have been avoided." She sang sadly, even though they won. She felt as if in a way it was all for nothing with the lives that were lost, "If I convinced Heaven to work together," She sang, tearfully.

She walked over towards the ledge, revealing the destroyed Hazbin Hotel and what remains, "I took a hotel and I destroyed it," She sang sadly, seeing the damage she couldn't help but blame herself for, "I know I could have done better." She sang, as she hugged her self tears welling up in her eyes, as she fell to her knees. "Better, instead of letting you down," She sang, looking down at the ground.

 'Come on little lady, why the frown?' Lucifer sang, as he looked down at his daughter, placing a hand on his shoulder. 'In the last ten-thousand years. You're the first one to change this town' He sang, standing up on his feet getting in front of her, 'You can do this, now I know it!' He sang, placing his hand underneath Charlie's chin. 'For your story has just begun'

"You can't quit now, hell, you owe it," [Y/n] sang, as she smiled at Charlie warmly, "There's still damage to be undone," sang Lucifer, as he smiled at his daughter.

"You've changed my mind," He sang.

"You've touched their hearts." sang [Y/n].

"Found the good in souls gone bad"

"The stage is wrecked, the crowd is gone,"

Lucifer looked at his daughter triumphantly, and sang."But by God, Charlie!" [Y/n]wrapped an arm around her, "The show, it must go on" Lucifer and [Y/n] sang, Charlie looked up towards her friends.

“We can do this!” Charlie’s friends sang, as they looked down at her smiling comforting her, making the best of the situation. “We can build it!” everyone sang, smiling at her.

‘Best hotel that you’ve ever seen!’

‘Twice the bedrooms’

‘We can fill it’

“With more sinners than you can dream,” Lucifer sang, as he wrapped an arm around [Y/n]’s waist, a slight tint of red appearing on her cheeks. “It starts with you, you know, it's true.” They sang, as they looked down at her smiling. Hopeful despite the hotel being destroyed, despite the sinners lost.

“Fulfill your destiny!” Charlie looked at her friend, and wiped away her tears and smiled looking at them. “So long as I've got all of you with me!” Charlie smiled, as she wrapped her arms around them.

[Y/n] spreads her wings and smiles, as she flies around. Helping everyone work on rebuilding the hotel. From scratch to be grander than ever. As she sang to help rebuild the hotel she, still couldn’t believe that he loved her back. Almost feeling like a dream that he told her he loved her back. Her heart still skipping a beat, as a wave of relief seemed to wash away.

After a seemingly endless period of wallowing in self-pity, she had finally found happiness with him. With him by her side, she was filled with a sense of anticipation for what was to come in the future.

Suddenly, he scooped her up in his arms like a bride, and she let out a yelp of surprise. As he leaned down towards her, she felt his lips against hers, and a soft gasp escaped her. Her body tensed up in response as her heart began to pound against her chest, overcome with a mixture of nervousness and relief. Her eyes slowly fluttering shut as she melted into the kiss. Wrapping her arms around his neck, leaning more into the kiss.

He whispered into her ear, causing her to shudder and turn beet red. Despite her flustered demeanor, he couldn't help but chuckle softly. Furrowing her eyebrows as she looked at him, and playfully leapt out of his arms.

Transforming into a duck with butterfly wings, and flying off. Lucifer chasing after her, as she switched between each forms giggling, as they continued to help rebuild the hotel. She smiled, as magic flew through her fingers butterflies flew around the hotel glowing with yellow ichor.

Everyone stood at the portrait of Sir Pentious, memorial saluting the great general who sacrifed himself for his friends. “We can do this,” everyone sang, as they stared at the portrait mourning the loss. But a smile on their face, knowing that his sacrifice guaranteed them a better and hopeful future towards redeeming sinner.

“We can do this,” Charlie sang, as she stared at the “We'll be better,” everyone sang smiling, as they remembered Sir Pentious. Saluting their fallen friend.

“We'll be better,”

‘Though redemption may take a while’

“Though it may take a while,” Charlie sang, smiling as [Y/n] placed her hand in her shoulder.

‘Wayward sinners, clear their ledger’

‘And we're doing it with a smile’ Alastor sang, as he appeared between them. Charlie’s eyes lighting up smiling, as she hugged him. “Yeah!” everyone except Lucifer, smiled as they looked towards Alastor.

‘We made a difference, wait and see’

‘We're gonna do this, you and me.’ Charlie and Vaggie sang, as they hugged eachother.

As they walked out towards the courtyard with a hopeful smile. [Y/n] smiled as Lucifer took her hand into his squeezing, she looked down at him and smiled. Fireworks lit up the red sky of hell, as they looked at the newly rebuilt Hazbin Hotel.

Lucifer used his magic shrinking the key, and handing it to Charlie. Who smiled looking at the hotel, “And then tomorrow, it will be a fuckin’ happy day in Hell!” They all sang, as they looked at the newly completed and rebuilt grander than ever. Hazbin Hotel.

[side chapter sneak peek]

Lucifer and [Y/n}, had left suddenly after saying goodbye to Charlie and everyone saying they needed some. "rest" But Angel knew all to well, he saw right past through it. "Yeah, they're about to fuck." Angel said, earning a groan of disgust from everyone. In particularly, Charlie. "Ew, that's my dad." said Charlie, in disgust looking up at Angel Dust.

"What? It's pretty obvious!" He exclaimed, folding his arms across his chest. Before looking off in the distance curiously, "I wonder what kind of kink the Short King is into." He wondered curiously, he took notice of the apples.

Charlie covered her ears, while everyone started walking off. "He's definitely into food play, whipped cream and apples." Angel continued, and "Lala! I can't hear you!" Charlie shouted, as she walked off. "Hey, Charlie give me Y/n's number so I can ask!" He shouted, running after her, "No!" shouted Charlie, as she walked towards the hotel.

"Aw, come one I need to know!" Angel shouted, chasing after Charlie.

meanwhile.. in lucifer's room{ya'll will get the actual smut later so rn its the morning after}

Lucifer's eyes fluttered open and he was met with the most wonderous sight, of [Y/n] and her crinkled up nose as she slept letting out the occasional snore. He smiled softly, as he brushed his fingers against her cheek causing her to smile. His heart seemed to flutter, how did he get so lucky?

"Aw, Lucifer." She said playfully, looking at him as he attacked her neck with kisses, "I've gotta make breakfast." She said, and he nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck. "Mm, not yet." He said, as he pulled her underneath the covers. She was in for a long morning.

a/n: no y/n didn't know that Lilith was in heaven im not kidding. She had no idea, but with her coming into play for season 2. There will def be some drama stirring, if she's a villian or not.

also lemme know if theres any gaps so i can go back and fix them.

taglist: @supernerdycookietrashblrr @96jnie @mit-suri @koji-akeme @dinawss @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @wanderlustingcastaway @only-cherry-blossom @runaway-expert @buubsii @darkknightsandredrobins @kokoneai5 @colletepop @asheitoshin @thesimppotato11 @cherry-4200 @jolynetodd @blaire-blake @thedarkkitten @astrxwitch

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Hero and Hope 4/5

Okaaaay, so there's 5 parts instead of 4! I realized that the last part was over 6k words, so we're splitting it into two! The last part will still be posted next Friday, so this will keep us on track!

Summary: The picnic has an uninvited guest that you're uniquely suited to greet.

-------

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

“Didn’t think I’d see anyone able to catch Marie,” the Lord says, brows raised. His golden eyes track Isla across the garden and he whistles when she jumps to tag his former knight. “That was not within the capabilities of a Villager.”

Ivan scans the crowd around them. Most of the townsfolk are too far away to eavesdrop and the ones close enough to potentially hear are engaged in their own conversations. “Careful, Brennan. If the Director hears you speculate…”

“Yes, the Director,” Lord Brennan sighs. He brings his teacup to his lips, but doesn’t drink. He contemplates Director Sarah where she crouches with a glass of water near Annie. “You know this is the first time we’ve met?”

It’d been a fight to get Sarah to agree to today at all. Ivan chooses his words carefully. “Your predecessor did not have the sort of…kind interest you do.”

The former Lord’s interest Sarah shared with them was a lot more horrifying. There’s a reason that Isla at only fifteen years old is the eldest at the orphanage.

“That’s one way to put it,” Lord Brennan agrees. He settles back into his seat and sighs in satisfaction. He watches the children gradually grow tired of their game and drift towards the dessert table. He grins when the townsfolk naturally make room for them, a few of them even fetching treats from the center of the table for the littler ones. “See my people together? It was very good of me to lure you and Marie to my territory.”

“You gave us a castle,” Ivan says. They weren’t so much lured as bludgeoned with generosity. Some days it feels like they blinked and ended up standing amongst fine silk and filigree.

“It’s a manor as far as paperwork goes,” Lord Brennan says.

“It has buttresses.”

“A very fortified manor.” Lord Brennan finally sips his tea and sighs again. “This tea is from our fields, isn’t it?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“It’s delicious.” The full canopies of the trees enveloping the estate rustle in the wind. The sun shines warmly overhead. Lord Brennan takes another drink. Delicious. “The land’s come a long way since we ousted my father, hasn’t it? Plentiful harvests, an established trade route, a new school. If it weren’t for the demons, my work would be done.”

“I would prefer you had no work then,” Ivan says dryly.

“Me too.” Lord Brennan sets his tea aside and rubs his eyes. “Any updates?”

“None,” Ivan admits, frustration leaking through his words. His face is still amiable and the disconnect between his tone and his visage is jarring. “We investigated the wolf tracks in the woods and only found carnage. No signs of the demons themselves.”

“So they are demons?”

“Regular wolves wouldn’t be able to evade a squadron of your knights, my lord.”

“Neither would demon wolves,” Lord Brennan says. He rubs his chin, brow furrowing. “I don’t like what that implies. Any sign of larger foes?”

Ivan doesn’t want to discuss this here. Marie’s eyes are on him, sensing his rising distress. He smiles and waves to her. “Besides the horned rabbit migration?”

“Is it a migration?”

“Isla saw five within the first four weeks of summer,” Ivan says.

The Lord’s attention falls on the teenager. She’s patiently letting one of the other children – Hera? The one who’d curtsied to him like a little noble – weave flowers into her braid. He tries to imagine her fighting a horned rabbit and his lips thin. “I’ll call for reinforcements from the capital.”

“Marie and I can—”

Lord Brennan waves Ivan off. “No, no, I’ve asked too much of you already. Aren’t the two of you too busy in your retirement already? I thought you’d be settled with a child by now.”

“It’s not good to rush these things,” Ivan says as he has the last three times Lord Brennan has asked. This time it’s Ivan who sighs. “It took Marie and I a good few months to win Director Sarah over after our misstep.”

“Asking about Destinies, was it?”

“Implying we’d value any child less for not being a knight like us,” Ivan corrects.

“There seem to be a lot of unusual Destinies in the orphanage,” Lord Brennan says. He’s not an Identifier but he’s got a good eye. Though no one can know for sure until a child either develops their mark or comes into their power at fifteen, he’s seen more than a few signs of a Scholar, a Guardian, and a Teacher. Once again he finds his gaze being drawn back to Isla. She’s got a child under each arm and is running from Marie again, the game having resumed after their snack break. “That one is a Guard, at least. Nobody else would have physical abilities like that.”

Ivan ignores the Lord’s comment. “It’s been worthwhile getting to know them all.” His smile turns a little more genuine. “They’re all good kids.”

“Surely you and Marie have an inkling of who’ll be a good fit?” When Ivan doesn’t reply, the Lord clicks his tongue. “You can’t choose all of them.”

Ivan’s voice is a study in nonchalance. “Can’t we?”

Lord Brennan opens his mouth only for no words to come out. At length, he has to laugh. His knights do like to keep busy. “You’d need a castle.”

“You did give us one, my lord.”

“I suppose I did.”

The two men lapse into a pleasant silence. It is good to see the townsfolk this cheerful. This town is the furthest from Lord Brennan’s own castle and he rarely has a chance to visit. The first time he had had been very different. The people still bore the wounds of winter in gouged cheeks and brittle smiles. Now he sees the glow of health everywhere he looks.

He contemplates the Director once again. She’d been the only one back then to not seem pleased to see him ride in on his white horse. Even now he can feel the chill of her scrutiny as she stood defensively between him and the orphanage. None of that chill is present today. Her smile is as sweet as his tea while she tends to a scrape the little Scholar sustained in this round of tag. “Ms. Sarah is very pretty, isn’t she?”

“I know we can’t adopt them all,” Ivan blurts out. He doesn’t seem to have heard Lord Brennan. His gaze is turned towards his own inner conflict which is why he also doesn’t notice the blush dusting the Lord’s cheeks. “It wouldn’t be fair to them. Marie and I decided to adopt a child who would benefit from what little we can offer. Military arts and luck.”

“I don’t think you’re being fair,” Lord Brennan says with raised brows. “You and Marie offer a lot more than a Knight’s experience. Haven’t you shown that already in your actions?” He’s not aware of everything his former knights have done, but he’s heard plenty from the children today. He didn’t think Marie had the patience to teach anyone how to read.

Ivan’s hands fist. “It’s not enough, it’s not—the little boy. Josiah. He’s so smart. I don’t even know where to start with him and even Marie says that he’ll soon outpace her—”

“Well,” Lord Brennan says, “Neither of you are Teachers, true, but there is a school for that--”

“And Annie wants to know why bread rises and why the sun sets and how many seconds are in a day—”

“All kids are curious—”

“Hera staged a whole theater production for my birthday and all we could do was clap—”

Is he missing something? “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

“We don’t know any actors or directors to introduce her to!” Ivan cries out. He quickly lowers his voice, but can’t hide the stress around his eyes. “What could we give to a child like her? Like any of them?  Marie and I are out of our depth. It would be so much simpler if one was a Knight!”

The Lord tentatively offers, “If Isla’s a Guard--?”

Ivan gives a cry of distress that he barely capture in the palm of his hand. “Isla! That girl feels like my daughter already, but…she’s been through so much. She doesn’t need a father who teaches her how to fight or a mother who teaches her how to withstand a siege! She deserves to never have to fight again. What could we offer her? What could we possibly give to her she hasn’t already learned on her own?”

A light goes on in the Lord’s head. He takes in the festivities with new eyes. The town’s Baker, Blacksmith, Teacher… His friends have invited every possible parent they could in hopes of providing for the children in ways they felt incapable of doing themselves. As noble as that was…“Ivan, being a parent goes beyond the skills you can give a child. It’s more than fostering talent or an offering an apprenticeship. It’s—”

A horse’s scream drowns out the Lord’s next words.

Ivan is in front of Lord Brennan with his sword drawn before the horses and their blood-splattered riders even round the side of the castle.

-----.

 You throw Annie and Josiah behind you the moment you hear the sound of hooves galloping towards the manor.

“Isla, what—” Josiah starts to ask and then cuts himself off as the innkeepers and their entourage burst into the party.

You smell blood before your eyes register the terrible red staining their fine clothing.

“ORCS!” Mr. Innkeeper screams over the frightened snorts of his horse. He stumbles down from his mount and staggers towards the Lord. “They overtook our carriage—please, my wife, she’s hurt—”

Mrs. Inkeeper is holding her side and seemingly barely holding onto the saddle horn. “Our guards won’t be enough to hold them off—”

“Inside,” Sarah hisses into your ear. She points after Hera who’s already shepherding the younger kids into the building. “Now.”

“—an army—”

“—fast—”

“—waiting for us—”

You move faster than you’ve allowed yourself since you arrived. This is no time to take care in hiding your abilities; there are roars coming from the forest unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. Your senses seem to dial up with your heartrate and you can hear the clash of steel against rock and flesh. You scoop Annie into your arms and leap after Josiah and Sarah.

Mr. Dallen’s face is pale as he ushers you all into the manor. He holds the door open for the townsfolk. The hall fills with the sounds of panic and sobs as fear washes through you like a tidal wave. There have never been orcs south of the mountains, there have never been demons bigger than a horned rabbit in the last twenty years, even when the Winter froze the river—

Mr. Dallen waves down Marie as she sprints to the large doorway. You think that he’s going to pull her inside to safety, but instead he thrusts her bow into her outstretched hands.

“Do not open these doors,” she commands. Behind her the knights are assembling into a formation, their Lord at the center. Ivan stands before them all, barking orders to ready their spears as the trees in front of them begin to sway. Marie pulls a dagger from under her skirts and slices the bottom half of her dress clean off. She kicks it away from her feet as she talks. “Take everyone to the basement—”

“Ma’am, the escape tunnel still isn’t cleared of debris—”

Marie swears so violently that half the townsfolk gasp. She grabs Mr. Dallen by the shoulder, her eyes flicking back and forth between him and her husband. “Then we will draw them away. The moment you think you can, run to the wagon. Get the children to—” She bites her lip. You can see the devastating truth flash through her mind. There isn’t anywhere to go. “Damnit. Bar the door and arm everyone you can.”

Mr. Dallen’s lips are bloodless as he nods. “My lady.”

Marie turns to everyone. Her voice is unlike anything you’ve heard come from her lips; it’s harsh and barking. A commander giving orders much like Ivan is doing outside. “Listen, everyone. We are in danger. Our best estimate is that 25 orcs are marching on the manor. There is no guarantee of survival. The moment this door is breached, it will mean the knights have failed. You must be prepared to fight. Do you understand?”

Twenty-five? Your hands ball into fists and your breath catches in your throat. You’ve heard of entire villages being wiped out by three.

“Then we’ll fight with the knights,” the Baker says. He pushes away from the center of the group and marches to the wall. He pulls down the crossed axes, keeps one, tosses the other to the Blacksmith. She catches it easily. “You’ll need everyone who can hold a weapon.”

Marie never voices her protest. You can see the strain of holding it back in her tense shoulders and her poignant silence. At long last, she nods. “You’re right. Stay behind the knights. They know how to handle the frontline better than you.”

There’s a flurry after that. The townsfolk divide in half. Those unable to fight slide back as those who can start scavenging for weapons. Mr. Dallen grimly pulls two long daggers from under his coat while pointing your neighbors to decorative swords, to ornamental spears, to the heavy coatrack just inside the parlor.

Grimly, you stride past Sarah, ignoring her hiss and darting hands. You can leave the weapons to the villagers, there’s a large knife on the dessert table you can use—

Marie slams a hand against your chest. You stagger back at the weight of the blow, breath knocked from your lungs. You’re more stunned than hurt as you gape at her.

“Children stay here,” Marie says. Her eyes narrow. “No exceptions.”

“But I’m—”

“We don’t have time to argue!” She pushes you further back, clearing the doorway for the armed villagers to run outside towards the knights. “You’re strong Isla, but this isn’t your fight. Stay here. Guard the door.”

The winter wind howls in your mind. You splutter. “But I—”

Marie spins away from you. “Director Sarah.”

Sarah’s arms slide around your shoulders. “Yes, lady.”

 The closing of the door feels like a blow in itself. You stare sightlessly at the unyielding wood as your emotions rage. How could she? You’re strong, you can do more, you can help, you’re the one who kept everyone from starving—

“We need to barricade the windows,” Director Sarah is saying to the townsfolk. Half of them gaze at her uncomprehendingly. Her hands slide from your shoulders slowly, as if testing that you aren’t going to leap outside. When you don’t move, she lets go entirely. “Isla, move the furniture. Hera and Josiah, find something to tie it down with.”

You move on autopilot. There are other hands alongside yours as you push the sofa and armchairs in front of the windows, the townsfolk coming together to defend the manor. Hera darts between you all and pulls the curtains closed, reclaiming the curtain ties to use as rope. She’s got a grim determination in her eyes that looks uncomfortably familiar.

Your attention is on the noise outside. The orcs are slow, but loud. The roars change to squeals and bellows of challenge. Branches break and there’s a terrifying, splintering crash as a tree falls. Metal rings as the knights raise their shields. You can see it all in your mind’s eye, the knights in a defensive line across the length of the garden, the Lord securely in their center. Ivan is shouting about this being what they’ve trained for, that there are more of them than there are orcs, that this city won’t fall—

And the Lord is speaking too, quickly and quietly to Marie. The escape tunnel? Damnit, I should have sent more men—

It will be fine, Marie says. Her bow sings as she holds it ready and you know the way her muscles flex and her eyes narrow from experience. We won’t let a single one of those monsters past us. We won’t--

The knights bellow alongside the orcs. Your heart leaps and your focus is jarred. You’re standing in front of the door again, your hands balled at your sides. Everyone can hear the battle now and the townsfolk scream when the orcs’ battle cries shake the manor.

“Quiet!” Is that your voice? It is. Your eyes slide to the frightened faces behind you. “You’ll distract the knights.”

Sarah steps up alongside you. “And let the orcs know exactly where we are.”

The villagers quiet into aborted whimpers and muffled sobs.

The battle rages, louder and louder. Are orcs big? They sound big. When you close your eyes you can hear the way their feet pummel the earth. Do they have weapons? Metal clashes. A knight screams that their hides are too thick. The Lord shouts back to aim for their eyes. A table splinters, a bow sings, there’s a liquid gasp—

BOOM!

You slam your hands against the door, muscles straining as another blow lands against it. The wood convulses under your hands and the lock creaks. The villagers scream.

“No,” someone whispers. “No, they found us.”

You’re eight and the snow spirits are howling for blood. Your shoulders ache with the effort to hold the door against the wind. The cold is biting at your fingertips and there is an old hope dying in your chest--

Small hands slam against the door next to yours. Hera is snarling and swearing, Josiah is crying. Sarah is telling the kids not to worry, Isla and Hera and Josiah won’t let them in –

They’re here. You’re not alone.

“GET AWAY FROM THERE!”

The orc’s bellow isn’t nearly as loud as Ivan’s roar.

The blow you’re bracing for never comes. Ivan goads the orc to follow him, to leave the manor alone, to eat the man readily available to him—

It does not sound like the knights are winning now.

“My Lord!” Marie’s voice is strained.

“Do not fall back, they’ll corner us—”

“Who is that? Who is—”

The crack under the door lights with a sickly purple. The smell of ozone seeps into the manor. For a moment there is a silence so complete you think you’ve been struck. What was that? Magic? You’ve never seen magic before--

Screams rocket across the field. The Blacksmith’s screams. The Baker’s screams. Marie’s rage-filled howls.

“DEMON KING!”

Your Destiny burns.

---.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

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

Thanks for reading! If you'd like read the last part of Isla a week early, please consider supporting me on Patreon(X)!

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Storm - A Tommy Shelby/Reader Smut Short.

Had Tommy on my brain. Now you can, too ;)

Words - 800

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

Storms; they always made you feel a little uneasy, the foreboding rumble of thunder preceded by a flash of light cracking the inky purple of the night sky. You weren’t too sure why any longer either, no longer being the scared little girl living in the Small Heath back-to-back abode, with its flimsy windows that you felt the fork of the lightning could smash to smithereens.

Now, you were lady of the manor, living in the fortified luxury of Arrow House, but yet you still needed something to take your mind off the raging weather on the other side of the much stronger windows.  

That person is your lover, and yes, he does a very good job of making sure the only lightning in your world is the type that streaks up your spine in hot flashes of pleasure, just like he is right now. Holding your legs spread, his hands tour in loving stroke over your thighs, his tongue circling licks all over your opening, that radius increasing.  

When it laps wet heat over your clit, you mewl for him, hands rooting in his soft hair. Your body keens against each lick, his breath warm as his tongue licks a tempest over your little bud, full lips closing to suck gently. A grunt wells in his throat, and the sound of it settles over your bones, pleasure lighting you up like a firework the harder his lips pull at you.  

He has you soaking, your little hole flexing around nothing in its emptiness, needing him inside you. Equally, you’d be more than happy for his mouth to remain exactly where it is, every lick gilding your nerves, the honey of your cunt bathing his tongue as he eats you greedily. His fingers sink into the soft of your thighs, eyes like blue shards of topaz glinting through the low light of the room, smiling around the mouthful of you he so happily feasts upon.  

“I’m starting to think you actually quite like it when there’s a storm, you know,” he muses, pausing for a moment, gently blowing over your swollen clit before skimming it with a teasing lick. “You always know this is what you get when one comes along.” 

“I get this enough as it is anyway, Tom,” you quip, laughing softly, “but I still appreciate the distraction.”  

Another flick, Tommy rumbling a little moan as he watches your bud twitch for him. “Minx.” 

He pulls a gasp from you, the flat of his tongue dragging hard over you. “Yeah, that’s me.” All talk is abandoned, your body the rhythm set by the song of his mouth, pleasure bursting like little stars as he adds speed to every lick. He builds you steadily, each ministration set up only to topple, the constructor of your utter ruin giving you one last, long suck before moving to kneel before you.  

“Mmm, oh,” you sigh, hissing with desire as his cock fills you deep. “That’s exactly what I wanted.”  

“Never let it be said that I’m not a giver, eh, love?” 

No, you truly wouldn’t, hands stroking over his pale chest, nails dragging the chiselled muscles as he pulls back and then bottoms out once more, eyes falling to watch how you splay so prettily for him. Your cunt glazes him, hot and slick, your walls pulsing around every last thick, vein-ridged inch of his cock, the thunder outside booming as he leans to kiss you with soft heat.  

He ruts a little deeper, and it sends a wave of ecstasy washing through you, the deep punch of his cock drawing moans that spill from your mouth to his. The sumptuous, velvet hug of your cunt pulls at him, hugging him in slick divinity as he quickens, drawing your legs up against his chest, panting hard as he scatters kisses against your ankle.  

“Ahhh, god you feel so good in me,” you pant, nails trawling over his abs, spurring him on with the allure of your gaze. “Yes, that’s it. Fuck me harder.”  

He does, and it burns neon over your veins, your cries shrill as he daggers you with utter finesse. You feel both boneless and mindless as he fucks you hard into the bed, grasping his forearms as he lowers to you, sucking violet welts at your neck. 

Outside, the lightning splits the sky, just as his does within your body, ecstasy streaking hot beneath your skin as you fall apart around the white-hot surge. His crest tingles his cock as he spills into your fluttering core, panting against your neck, his hands stroking your face as he nuzzles and kisses you. 

The storm outside continues to rumble overhead, but you and Tommy sleep upon a cloud of bliss until morning, when the skies glow blue once more. 

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #34

Do cry me a river

Imagine dis…

I re-watched some of my favorite anime when I was a kid and… Another idea popped up if I do say so myself.

If the words Yukina and Ice Maiden ring a bell then you know which direction I am heading…

…

Deep within Gotham, specifically, its underground city seems to be buzzing with intrigue and curiosity at something new. Now, when something new has appeared all of them are watching, as if it was not the usual drug or weaponry to use on the other heroes. All eyes were on them, each turn and each step this new player had brought into the game were all being watched and carefully cataloged.

But the moment it had proved its worth each and everyone, from the big names and players of the underground that stretches from Gotham to its neighboring cities to all those who had a single line of connection to the underground. All began clamoring to buy and claim such precious little things.

All of them began to whisper among the shadows and had all of them in traded hushed tones in fear of the Bats who may have or have not been listening.

Let me tell you… It wasn’t any ordinary rumors, but it was all because of a new production of pearls. Pearls, strange and enchanting pearls, that glowed with an otherworldly greenish blue hue. Unlike the typical black, white, pink, and rare blue pearls that adorned the necks of Gotham’s elite and the rich, these are not only rare, mysterious, and sought after not for their beauty but for the miracles they had performed.

These pearls were said to have amazing therapeutic abilities. Stories circulated about wounds healing in seconds, incurable diseases disappearing, and organs regenerating as if by magic. The pearls' magical qualities increased their value to astronomical levels, making them a sought-after treasure on the illicit market. Wealthy collectors and desperate folks were both eager to pay for everything to obtain them.

But despite their efforts to be quiet some noise and rumors had already reached the ears of Gotham’s vigilantes.

…

Gotham vigilantes had already heard of these new pearls slowly circulating in the underground world. Batman had it at the end of his priority as it was just a gemstone and in some cases had his attention, Red Hood didn’t even bother as it was not drugs and thought of it as another rich eccentric trend that soon to fade, so did the rest of the vigilantes dismissing them without a second thought.

…

One evening, Red Robin was on his usual patrol, this night his patrol route was line on keeping an eye out for the upper echelons of Gotham’s elite as there had been a massive Arkham breakout meaning that the rich were out for grabs for the usual kidnapping and ransom.  

He intercepted a poor attempt at a robbery between a wealthy civilian, their bag had released all of its contents in a fit of panic. Red Robin helped the said civilian to gather their things all up after he had tied the robber with some zip-ties. As he was gathering their things he picked up a unique-looking necklace. A simple silver necklace with a singular greenish-blue pearl in its center. The unusual color caught his attention but never thought any of it until tomorrow morning.

The next morning, As Tim was dressing up for his morning job as the CEO of Wayne Enterprise, he noticed something peculiar. The scar from his missing spleen, a constant reminder of a near-fatal injury, and another reminder that Ra is a creep for stealing a minor’s spleen had vanished. Alarmed and more awake than seconds ago, he hurriedly went to Dr. Leslie’s clinic for an impromptu check-up. The X-rays revealed the impossible, his spleen had regenerated as if it had never been missing in the first place.

…

The Bats are now scrambling for any information about the mysterious pearl that Red Robin had contact with just last night.

Meanwhile, Danny was imprisoned in a remote, strongly fortified manor. Unlike Yukina from Yuyu Hakusho, Danny's tears transformed into a powerful healing agent capable of miraculous recoveries.

This wealthy captor, who had been a player in the underground for quite some time yet always had the ambition to be more than just a buyer, when he became aware of Danny's existence and his tears' healing abilities, had been exploiting him to create the greenish-blue pearls that were now circulating in the black market.

Danny was not alone in captivity. He was accompanied by his younger, de-aged self, Dan and Ellie. Both had been captured and used as leverage to compel Danny's cooperation. The three were confined in separate, high-security quarters that were closely monitored and strongly guarded.

…

As chaos is slowly filling up the streets of Gotham, at the edge of the city’s border there stood a woman with a purpose.

Talia al Ghul, the Demon Head's daughter and mother of Damian Al Ghul-Wayne, commonly known as Robin, is well-known for her strategic abilities. She embarked on a personal mission to protect and save her son Danny from the pig who dared to hurt him.

Danny, Talia and Bruce's first kid had been hidden from the world, even her father, for his safety. Safety? She felt selfish for the first time, keeping Danny concealed from everyone except her. Talia had decided to keep him concealed, including from his brother, Damian.

Talia had lately received an unusual package—a VHS video with a green sticky note bearing the letters "CW." The film contained a warning and a guide, as well as critical information about the forces that had kidnapped her son and instructions on how to exploit something she had never seen before.

The tape revealed Danny's captor's identity, a wealthy and powerful figure deep within Gotham's underbelly who had discovered Danny's new powers and was forcing him to create healing pearls. The video also contained plans and security information about Danny's detention facility, as well as the network of individuals involved in this nefarious enterprise.

Talia devised a strategy based on the tape's information, contacting trusted allies and resources while also depending on her network and the element of surprise. Talia walks through the city like a ghost, her love for Danny so strong and unwavering that she is willing to eliminate anyone who endangers her son's safety.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PPS: This one is for the month of August since I’m going to be a bit busy so ENJOY!!!

[ladymirdan]

God I want the new Barbie dream house so badly. But I know I’m very slow at building terrain pieces (I haven’t even finished my boarding actions box yet) and it would take up a lot of space.

But like, I could convert it onto a 40k fortress monastery, maybe put some Dark Angels on there, and it would look so cool.

https://www.warhammer.com/en-SE/shop/old-world-fortified-manor-of-the-empire-2024

[lucienarcheron]

This Time, I'm Ready [ Elucien ]

Inspired by Long Story Short by TS. I was listening to it randomly and a scene of Elain started playing out in my head. Recommend listening to it while reading :)

Shout out to @ruhnnlidias for always being my beta reader ♥️

Rating: SFW Genre: Little angst/fluff

Tagging: @helion-ism | @zenkindoflove | @crazy-ache | @danaanruhn | @eudaimonia83 | @vanserrass | @elizascarlets | @climb-the-mountian

As she stood in the woods and took in her surroundings, Elain realized she had made a tragic mistake leaving the Spring Court alone.

Darkness was setting and she had no idea where she was or how she’d even be found. 

All she knew was that she had needed out of the Night Court. She had needed to get away. Even at the risk of her own safety. 

Because she was sick of it. Sick of doing nothing. Sick of being nothing.

Sick of the coddling. Coddling she had played a huge part in allowing. 

Because comfort had always been more important than worrying. Comfort had been more important than facing everything that had been taken from her. But at what cost? 

At what cost?

Elain whirled around at the sounds of twigs snapping behind her and that familiar sense of self-loathing she had developed in the last two years threatened to explode in her chest. 

She was an idiot. An absolute imbecile for thinking she could do this on her own.

But it was too late to change courses now.

Elain’s bottom lip trembled as her eyes darted around her. The fae eyesight she’d resented for so long didn’t fail her now as she took in the details of the tall trees. Her vision — that stupid vision was what had spurred her to make this move. A vision that promised the sun and flowers blooming, coming from a manor she had once planned to call home before it was ripped away from her and her dreams became shrouded in darkness.

And Elain had been desperate for the sun for two years. 

So she had fortified her mind, blocked it the way she knew how so they wouldn’t sense her lie, and had convinced Rhys that she needed to go to the Spring Court. She had nearly begged, demanding they respect her vision and though Feyre had been hesitant, her sister knew she couldn't stop her. 

And Mor had winnowed her in, waiting patiently with her as she explored, as they avoided the beast that still roamed while she tried to piece things together. Her vision was important, they had to inspect what it meant…even if she hadn’t told them what her vision had been about.

Or rather, who.

But the person she had been looking for hadn’t been there as she had predicted. Mor had only given her a sympathetic look that had Elain clenching her jaw and said, “We’ll wait until morning to see if anything else can be found.” 

Elain didn’t want to wait until morning and Mor hadn’t noticed the satchel she had hidden beneath her cloak. Though she wasn’t too surprised. No one really noticed anything about her. People only saw what they wanted to see when it came to her. 

And maybe Elain should feel guilty about the panic she would likely cause Mor, even with the note she left behind, but she knew she needed to find him alone. Elain needed to make sure he was alright and for once, didn’t want an audience.

Because telling them what she saw meant they’d get involved. And for once, Elain needed them all to mind their business. 

Her hand tightened around the hilt of the dagger she’d stolen from the ridiculous amount stashed in her sister’s home and Elain hated the feeling of it, hated having to hold it, and hated the idea of having to potentially use it. 

Stabbing one person had been enough for her in this lifetime.

Turning her body, she tried to gauge where exactly she was. She had been careful to ask careless questions, to pretend to stare at the map of the location with as much boredom as she could muster all those times they'd bothered to include her in things. Which wasn’t often, but Elain had tried.

And now, she was trying to find… Lucien. 

A shudder went through her body at the thought of his name. The mate she had been ignoring.

The sun she was seeking, that she had blatantly pretended wasn’t there. Because he could be hurt and the thought of not hearing his heartbeat made her sick. 

She hadn’t been ready before. 

This time, she was.

Ready to run certainly, at the sound of another twig snapping. If only there weren’t predators that were ecstatic at the opportunity to chase their prey — and Elain had forgotten just how many predators were out there. How easy prey she was at the moment. 

Alone. Vulnerable. Breathing so loudly she was positive they could hear her back in Velaris. 

Elain took a deep, shaky breath and exhaled it quietly. Licking her lips, she did the one thing she hadn’t expected herself to do. She called out to her mate.

Lucien?

She called out silently, licking her lips as she tested the waters of the mating bond she’d been shackled with. A mating bond that, try as she might, was never as dormant as she let the others believe. She heard his heartbeat all the time. Felt emotions flicker from him. Saw hazy memories. 

Elain bit her lip, and slowly as she moved forward, the panic began tingling through her body. Why would he be listening? It wasn’t like she’d called out to him before. It wasn’t like she had ever been particularly kind to him. 

Elain, who was kind to everyone. She was nice. Took out all her rage at the one person who didn’t really deserve it. But gods, being nice was exhausting when she hated everything about herself. He sensed how she felt. He saw too much. Just as she saw and felt too much of him. 

In that stupid vision, she saw him coming for her. And he was whole and healthy. She had felt relieved at the sight of him. 

She only left to find that relief. 

But all she was finding was panic.

“Lucien?” she whispered and then shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. She was so stupid. How would he even hear her out here? Elain had no idea where she was or if she was on the right path.

All she had ever been useful for was being beautiful and nice. Maybe her mother had been right all along; she didn’t need to know how to use her brain when she had that face. Thinking she’d be good enough to try and venture out on her own had been so foolish of her.

No wonder no one included her in anything. She wasn’t smart. She wasn’t brave. She wasn’t useful. Elain was just there, a mistake, a sad sight no one even saw or paid attention to. 

Her hand flew to her mouth to hold in the sob threatening to escape. She had been so stupid to come out here. 

Another branch cracked and she whirled again at the sound, scanning the area around her. She couldn’t have ventured too far from the Spring Court. She had to still be close, right? 

But as she took a step, Elain felt a chill run down her spine that had her freezing in place.

She swallowed and then whispered into the trees, “Lucien?”

Elain was afraid to close her eyes to seek him out, to travel without moving as she had done once before. She bit her trembling lip and looked for that thread that he had tested out with her so long ago. She looked for that thread around her ribs and tugged. 

He had to find her. 

He had to be listening. Or at least she hoped. 

Her face fell as the feeling of unease flooded her senses. Why would he be listening? He certainly wasn’t obligated to give her any of his time. Just like she hadn’t been obligated to give him anything.

Except for a conversation. Maybe they could’ve been friends. Maybe more. Maybe less. 

Taking a shaky breath, Elain shook her head. She needed to focus. She needed to find him. Closing her eyes and letting her senses take over, letting that power she kept to herself surface as she looked for him. She traveled while standing, searching, rooting for him. She looked and tugged at that bond, she searched with a desperation she’d never, in all her years felt.

He needed to find her. He needed to be okay. 

And she needed to get out of this quickly darkening forest. 

There.

She saw him, seated at a desk alongside the Mad General she had only met once long ago, and felt herself tremble at the sight of him. She watched him suddenly straighten as if sensing her.

“Lucien.” she whispered and Elain wasn’t sure if she was saying it in her mind or out in the open air but he seemed to hear her. 

For Lucien shot out of his seat and Elain watched his eyes widen, scanning the room. “Elain?” 

“I’m in the forest outside of the Spring Court. I came looking for you but you weren’t there. I’m lost and I want you to find me.” she blurted quickly, fighting back a sob. “Please find me.”

“Elain —” was all she heard from him, his voice echoing the panic that was close to seizing her and before she could say anything else, she was ripped out of her connection.

Elain stumbled forward and whirled around quickly to find a creature of nightmares snarling a few feet away from her. 

The creature stood alone, covered in dark scales with powerful arms that ended in claws she knew would slice anyone into ribbons.

Elain could only stand in horror, staring at the creature that gave her a bone-chilling smile. 

She hadn’t seen this in her vision. 

“Pretty, pretty pet.” it rasped, its claws clicking together as it stalked towards her. “You smell so divine. I’m going to eat you right up.”

“N-no, thank you,” she whispered and the creature blinked at her and then chuckled in a way that made the hair on her arms raise.

“Ah, well. That’s not what I want to hear.”

And the air between them stilled. The predator and prey as Elain stared down the creature. She had come seeking her mate and instead, found herself alone and vulnerable, about to be eaten alive.

Is this what she would amount to? She had stabbed the King of Hybern once long ago. She could not die here, without facing her demons. She had seen what her life could look like and Elain had finally decided to do something about it. Her grip tightened on her blade and she swallowed hard as the creature tilted its head mockingly at her. 

Elain let herself take a deep calming breath then without warning, broke out into a run. Birds fluttered from the trees above her as she ran back, not away to – from – from the Spring Court? She wasn’t sure and the panic she had been trying to suppress bubbled back up to the surface as the sound of the creature stalking her followed.

“Find me. Find me. Find me.” she chanted desperately, a sob slipping from her lips as she rounded a corner, following a light that had to be the earlier path she had followed. The light had to lead back to safety.

But as she ran, her cloak caught on a branch and with a yelp, she fell. Quickly rolling over, she swallowed a scream as the creature hovered over her, closer than she had expected and nearly gagged at its foul breath. Grabbing her by the ankle, it dragged Elain closer and she could only stare in horror, frozen in place.

“I’m going to pick you apart piece by pretty piece.” it hissed.

With a desperate scream, she finally kicked it with her free leg and scrambled away but it grabbed her again and Elain fell once more, the dagger slipping from her hand.

“Let - go - of - me!” she shriek-sobbed, her hand desperately seeking the hilt of that dagger.

“Pretty pet has some claws.” The creature rasped once more as it yanked Elain forward, leaning over her and Elain tried not to gag again at its foul breath, her hand still seeking the dagger. “Lost little lamb with no one here to save her. Left to be gobbled up.” 

Her hand faltered for a breath. 

No one here to save her.

Would she always be this way? Always waiting to be saved? Always the victim? Never knowing how to defend herself? 

She had no desire to be a warrior but Elain was sick of being the prey. 

Anger she hadn’t felt in a long while flared in her chest as her fingers finally wrapped around the hilt of the dagger and with a cry, she forced himself forward and shoved the dagger into the creature’s throat and held. She let out a scream of rage, fighting the urge to vomit when it’s black blood sprayed across her face. But Elain held and held tight, even as her hands shook until the gurgling sounds stopped and the creature slumped over her.

Elain let herself lay there, breathing heavily as her body started to shake. She was okay. She was fine. She had been attacked by a horrible creature and had survived. She was alive. 

She would be —

The sound of running had the breath choked out of her. She couldn’t do this again — she couldn’t take another one. 

But Elain couldn’t move. Her body wouldn’t budge and as tears started to spill, she bit back another sob, trying with all her might to move the dead weight off her. Never mind, its blood was on her hands and dress and face – never mind that she was likely to be crushed beneath its weight if she didn’t move.

Panic seized her fully as she tried to scramble up, the footsteps coming closer. She could pretend to be dead. She could —

A violent snarl echoed through the forest as the dead creature was ripped off her and Elain nearly shrieked once more until she saw who stood above her.

“Elain.”

Elain’s eyes widened as Lucien fell to his knees next to her, breathing as hard as she was. He started at her and the sheer amount of relief that washed over her made her lips start to tremble. 

“Lucien.”

She watched as a slight shudder went through him at the sound of his name from her lips and her body trembled as she stared and stared and stared. He had come.

“Elain. Thank fuck, you’re – you’re alright,” he asked and his hands hovered over her for a moment, as if forgetting that they hadn’t touched casually before – as if remembering then, it would be the first time in over two years. She watched as he swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling before slowly, Lucien held out a hand to help her sit up and Elain dropped her gaze to his open palm. “Are you hurt? Can you sit up?”

She blinked, hoping the tremors coursing through her body would stop as she stared back up at him. 

“You — you came.” was all she could think to say, staring at him as she slid her shaky hands in his and slowly sat up, her eyes never leaving him, devouring the sight of him. 

“Of course, I came,” he said quietly. “You – you called.”

Tears welled up in her eyes at the words but she blinked them back and swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to say. He had come. He had listened.

“You found me,” she whispered, squeezing his hands and Lucien’s gaze softened. 

He swallowed before carefully answering, “As long as you want me to find you...the bond will remain a thread between us.” he said quietly and squeezed her hands in return. “I’ll always find you.”

Her raging heart seemed to beat faster and Elain finally took a moment to run her gaze over his body. He was still in the tunic and trousers she had seen him in except now a sword was strapped to his back – a sword he hadn’t even bothered to use when he pulled the creature off her.

Her mate had used his bare hands to save her. And he was safe and whole, not a scratch to be found on him. 

Elain met his gaze, finding him patiently watching her, his brows furrowed in concern, and suddenly remembered how she was covered in filth and flushed deeply, pulling her hands back to her lap.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he glanced down at his now empty palms and let them fall to his sides. “You want to tell me how you got here?”

“I – I had a vision.”

“Ah.”

“It was about you,” she whispered and his expression turned curious. “Something bad happened to you.”

Lucien seemed to be fighting to keep his expression carefully clear. “And that…worried you?”

Elain’s flush deepened and she swallowed before whispering, “Yes.”

The air between them seemed to go taut but Elain refused to break his gaze as a slight color bloomed on Lucien’s face.

This energy between them wasn’t like what Feyre and Rhys had. Or even what Nesta and Cassian had. This…this felt different. 

The bond between them seemed to hold its breath until Lucien cleared his throat and finally said, so softly, in the way he always seemed to speak to her, “I’m sorry to have caused you all this trouble.” 

Elain blinked and couldn’t help the huff of a small laugh that slipped from her lips, fisting her hands in her lap. “If anything, I’m the one to apologize for causing you trouble,” she said and bit her lip. “I dragged you all the way out here.”

Lucien chuckled and Elain felt it skate across her filthy skin. “You did give me quite the heart attack,” he said and the corner of his mouth curled up at her flush. “I thought I was hallucinating for a minute.” 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and couldn’t look away from him, trying to blink back the embarrassed tears welling in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to – I just – “

Lucien shook his head then gently and so carefully, reached for her hand. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said and offered her a small smile. “I’m thankful you did. I’m glad you did.” 

And Elain felt her heart swell. This man – male who owed her nothing was glad she had called on him in her time of trouble.

“Even after all this time? We’ve barely spoken.”

“I know.” he only said and Elain felt her bottom lip tremble as she squeezed his hand in hers.

“Why?”

And Lucien couldn’t seem to help the tilt of his head as he gave her a look that was too knowing. “Because you never fully closed that door between us,” he said and Elain swallowed. “I know you’re well aware of how a mating bond works. You could reject it – reject me and no one would bat an eyelash.” He glanced at their hands and turned her palm over, his thumb daring to rub soothingly. “With the nature of the mating bond, a rejection would’ve been hard for me but I would’ve made peace with whatever decision was made.” Lucien met her gaze again. “I am not a male who forces himself to be where he is not wanted, especially with females. But…you kept the door open.”

“I’m not – I wasn’t —” Elain began then forced herself to swallow hard again. “I wasn’t ready.”

“I know,” he said again and gave her a small, slightly sad smile and Elain couldn’t stop herself from tightening the grip of her hand in his again. 

She met his gaze and knew he could feel every jumbled emotion she felt, every complicated thought that flickered across her face. But he waited. Patiently. Kindly.  And it was like he sensed exactly how hard it was for her to say more, to express her desires. 

The corner of his mouth curled up. “I will say…it has been very bold of you to assume I would be obsessed with you,” he added and Elain flushed. “If anything, this situation goes to show you’re the one who can’t stop thinking about me. Getting all worried and running around in the woods alone.” He ended the statement with a tsk and Elain blinked.

Before she could stop herself, a snort slipped from her at his statement and the snort turned into a raspy laugh and before Elain could stop herself, she was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. 

She was sitting on the ground of an unknown forest, still covered in the blood of a creature she had killed and Elain couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed this hard. 

And he sat with her as she laughed, watching her with amusement until the last giggle left her mouth, and Lucien couldn’t help but answer with a chuckle of his own. 

She had found the sun. And it was smiling right back at her. 

When she finally let out a sigh, marking the end of her slight loss of sanity a moment ago, Elain felt a sense of calm wash over her as he watched her and it took a few heartbeats of silence before Lucien broke the quiet. 

“I take it you’re ready to move now?” he asked and Elain nodded as he looked around the woods. “How did you even manage to get here?”

He stood slowly and as Lucien pulled her up, Elain didn’t let go, staring up at him as she stood flush against his chest. She’d worry about how dirty she was later. “I sneaked away.” 

Lucien’s brows lifted and the color on Elain’s cheeks deepened at his smirk. “Sneaked away, did you?”

“Oh yes,” she confirmed and Elain wondered if she’d ever realized how delicious he smelled. “Mor winnowed me in and I - um, waited until she was distracted and sneaked away.” Elain licked her lips. “But then I um, got lost.” 

“Poor Elain, getting lost in the woods all alone,” he said in a tone with a teasing edge to it and Elain found her heart beating faster, forcing herself not to think about the tenor of his voice when he said her name, flushing lightly again. 

But then color flushed on his cheeks and the silence between them seemed to soften; Elain couldn’t quite read the expression on his face but he seemed to struggle to say his next words. 

“All this to find…me.” he said so very quietly and Elain seemed to hear the question without him asking it – that of all people, she had ventured out into the unknown for him? As if in disbelief that he would be worth the effort.

Then again, she hadn’t helped much in her avoidance of him. 

“Y-yes.”

Once more, that thread at her ribcage went taut as they shared a glance and Elain wondered what it would be like if she just kissed him. Judging by the way his eyes watched her, she wouldn’t be too surprised if he could see it written all over her face, especially when he licked his lips.

“At least I’m not the only person you tried to give a heart attack to today,” he said with that teasing tone again and Elain’s lips twitched. 

“Oh, Mor is definitely going to kill me.” she joked and her heart stuttered when his grip tightened on her slightly, watching him blink back a look of rage at the idea that someone might think to hurt her. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I found you first then,” he said casually and cleared his throat. “Lest you get into any more trouble.” 

“I think I’ve had enough trouble for one day,” Elain said and her eyes finally snagged on the creature, lying in a heap across the grounds. Her hands unintentionally tightened on Lucien as she eyed the dagger still stuck in the creature’s throat and once again, she couldn’t believe she had done it. 

Lucien’s gaze followed hers and she felt his own hand tighten on her before he went back to scanning her face. “It seems a stab in the neck is to become your signature move.” he said lightly and Elain’s face heated. 

“Twice is not enough to make it a signature move.”

“For someone who doesn’t fight often, twice is more than enough to become a signature move,” he said with a snort. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“Considering you saved me today, I think you’re safe for now,” she said softly and Lucien seemed unable to help his chuckle. 

“I hardly did any saving, my lady,” he said with a small smile, his tone as soft as hers. “You did that all on your own.” 

And as Elain flushed deeply, she realized how long they’d been standing there, chest to chest just holding each other. The last time she had been held by him was that wretched day in Hybern and despite all the time and distance that had been between them, Elain seemed to feel nothing but ease to be held by him.

They stood for a few more heartbeats of silence, content to be just like this and Elain wondered if this was what the mating bond was always supposed to feel like. If she had been denying herself of this feeling she had always been craving.

She could hear the steady beat of his heart and while she was used to it being the lullaby that usually put her to sleep, Elain knew that wouldn’t be enough anymore. 

“Let’s get you out of here and get cleaned up.” Lucien finally said gently and Elain nodded, knowing she should pull away but found herself hesitating to do so. He seemed to feel the same way as his hand casually tightened. “We wouldn’t want anyone to worry about you.” 

At this moment, Elain didn’t really care who worried about her. Goodness knows how long had passed before they noticed she’d gone missing anyway. 

But he noticed her. He seemed to always notice her. 

So she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Will you…stay with me?” 

Lucien tried to mask the hope that flashed across his face by clearing his throat but Elain saw it – felt it and knew she asked the right question. “If that’s what you’d like me to do,” he said.

“It is,” she replied, her voice more sure than she’d ever been. “I would like that very much.”

His answering smile had warmth spread through her chest. “Then I am happy to oblige,” he said. “I am at your service, my lady.” 

[1001aus]

There are a lot of fun jokes and fics about which if any of the Bats can cook and while it's funny to say all of them except for [whoever] is banned from the Wayne Manor kitchen here are my actual thoughts on who can cook and who is actually good at it.

Bruce: Can cook in theory. Very good at technical skills and everything he makes is highly nutritious, but he's awful at flavor and texture. Tends to err on the side of overcooking because he's bad at determining when something's done. His meal replacement bars are the stuff of legend. Chalky. Chemical aftertaste from the nutrient paste. Can keep you going all day like lembas.

Dick: Can follow a recipe with minimal mistakes. He is, however, working two full-time jobs and is usually too tired. People make fun of the cereal, but, let's be honest, the boost of iron and sugar from vitamin fortified children's cereals after a night of patrol helps a lot with blood loss.

Jason: Actually started learning from Alfred about a year after being adopted, but the lesson were interrupted by his death and didn't pick up after. His cooking is much better when he's feeding 20+ people. Can't quite get the hang of bread.

Barbara: Also capable of following recipes, but unlike Dick she's confident enough to do ingredient substitutions. There was a while after getting shot when she almost gave up out of frustration, then Bruce threw several thousand dollars at remodeling her kitchen so she can use it in a wheelchair.

Tim: He can make staples, but he mostly survives on caffeine pills and take out. Surprisingly good at baking if he doesn't get distracted by something else.

Stephanie: Great at breakfast foods, much less confident making anything else. She *can* cook, but doesn't have the money to throw at ingredients and refuses to let Bruce pay her living expenses on principle.

Cass: Cannot cook. She could incinerate pasta on the stove.

Duke: He can get by, but he's also just a high school student. The type to get really good at a couple specific, complicated looking dishes. Not above using Bruce's credit card for groceries.

Damian: Genuinely never thought about who makes his food before coming to Gotham. If he wants food that reminds him of his childhood he needs to make it himself, so he's learning. Applies the same focus as Bruce to learning, but with better results since he isn't focused on Maximum Nutrition. Never going to be good at improvising, but very good at complicated recipes.

[slavonicrhapsody]

So if Rykard and Morgott hate eachother why are there two abductor virgins at the roundtable hold in Leyndell? 🤔 (i dont mean this antagonistically in anyway, im genuinely curious what your thoughts are lol)

a very good question!!! These guys are pretty unique among the placement of the other abductor virgins, because every other one is in a location with some connection to Rykard himself (which I went through in this post).

The Leyndell Roundtable Hold is called the Fortified Manor, and we can see a big lion crest on the outside wall:

As we know, lions are associated with Godfrey, so I think it’s a safe guess that this manor once belonged to him. The other piece of information pointing to Godfrey is that the Roundtable Hold is a stronghold of Tarnished — like a safe haven for Godfrey’s warriors of old returning home.

What’s strange about the abductor virgins being here is that Rykard’s faction is notorious for employing Tarnished to kill other Tarnished, which goes against everything the Roundtable Hold stands for as a safe haven and non-combative space for Tarnished. The Roundtable Hold is also an operative of the Two Fingers, Volcano Manor’s explicit sworn enemy.

So what’s going on with these guys? Why are they found in a place not only unconnected to Rykard, but antithetical to his beliefs? If we investigate the Fortified Manor, we find it abandoned and seemingly ransacked. There is a dead body with Mad Tongue Alberich’s clothes. The abductor virgins are patrolling the inner courtyard. The Roundtable Hold that we visit is completely separate from this “real” version and seems to exist in a kind of liminal space.

We can come to the Fortified Manor to complete a quest with Bernahl for the Volcano Manor where we invade the Tarnished Vargram the Raging Wolf and Errant Sorcerer Wilhelm. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we come to the “real” version of Roundtable Hold in order to kill Tarnished on Volcano Manor’s behalf, and Bernahl, who declares his intent to defy the Greater Will, might see attacking the Roundtable Hold as a way of attacking the Two Fingers. So we do have a connection to Rykard here in a way, and it’s an antagonistic one.

Maybe the presence of the abductor virgins has something to do with the Fortified Manor’s abandoned state? Maybe there had been some kind of invasion carried out there by the Recusants, which we continue by helping Bernahl? The only other thing of note here is that in the courtyard, there’s a lift that leads to the Divine Bridge grace, the place where that teleporter chest in Limgrave takes you. The teleporter circle is now active, and takes you to the Isolated Divine Tower, where you activate Malenia’s great rune. Does any of this have anything to do with the abductor virgins? I can’t think of any reason why it would. perplexing

Anyway, we can’t be 100% sure of why the abductors are here, but if I had to guess, I’d say they have something to do with the Recusant activity there. I guarantee you that it isn’t because Rykard, a guy known for decorating his house with paintings of burning Erdtrees, and Morgott, the Erdtree’s #1 defender, were working together. lol

[ginandoldlace]

Built at the end of the 13th century by wool merchant Laurence of Ludlow, Stokesay Castle in Shropshire is one of the best-preserved fortified medieval manor houses in England.

The yellow timber-framed gatehouse was added in the 17th century and is decorated with ornate carvings, including one of an angel and the Stokesay Dragon.

[sodamnradd]

(Slytherin Hermione, No Voldemort)

Since first year, they shared a hunger for knowledge, success, and tormenting obstinate Gryffindors.

Draco was mean. Hermione was sharp and temperamental. They made a fierce pair.

When they became older, Draco started sneaking girls into empty classrooms after curfew. Hermione maintained a long-distance relationship with Viktor. They were never single at the same time. And yet, they were never apart.

They spent candlelit evenings sharing magic and getting up to mischief. In fifth year, they created prohibited Portkeys, and on Hogsmeade weekends, slipped into Muggle disguises and snuck off. Crashing dazzling parties in Bath mansions and London lofts. They drank stolen wine and danced drunk. Sixteen, adrenaline-fuelled, fortified by one another’s presence.

At the end of seventh year, Hermione nailed her N.E.W.Ts, was graduating Hogwarts with a prestigious law apprenticeship and without a boyfriend.

It was time to date people in the real world, she claimed, oddly unaffected.

Graduation marked a new era. One where Draco would start his day without Hermione in their common room. Where they wouldn’t share every meal together, or divide-and-conquer assignments. It was a harrowing thought.

Imagining her ‘dating people in the real world’ ate at him. She would sit across the table from somebody else. Somebody else would know her better than he did.

Narcissa made a fuss when her son stubbornly attended his graduation party in Muggle formalwear. But if Hermione was wearing Muggle clothing, then so was Draco.

Hermione showed up at Malfoy Manor looking indecently gorgeous.

He had a way of making himself miserable, Draco. The words ‘old times’ ‘childhood best friend’ ‘the one that got away’ entrapped his mind like Devil’s Snare and weaved his stomach into knots.

At Hogwarts, whenever he felt lost, his internal compass pointed to Hermione. Tonight was no different.

She wasn’t a social butterfly like Draco. She thought niceties were a waste of time and preferred to hover on the outskirts of a social scene, observing the chaos in judgy silence.

“Where have you been?” she demanded, balancing a glass of weekend rosé between her fingers.

Moping. “Mingling. You should try it sometime.”

“I survived seven years of Hogwarts tolerating nobody but you. Can't kill my streak now.”

“In that case,” he offered her a folded handkerchief from his breast pocket, “got one more adventure in you?”

When Hermione stepped forward to take it, Draco’s hand twisted around her arm, tugging her into him. His mouth slipped over hers as the Portkey tided them away.

By the time they landed on the dewy grass, Hermione’s arm was around his neck, and she was kissing him with just as much enthusiasm.

He clutched her hip and held her close, fears that plagued him all day long misting away.

It was no surprise that the kiss was explosive. Draco had always known it would be. That they would be.

When they stepped apart, Hermione yanked the lapel of his jacket. Relief swimming in her eyes.

“You idiot,” she whispered, smoothing his shirt. Her palm pressed over his heart. “Why did it take you so long?”

(509 words, photo prompt from twitter, potential ecdysis au where hermione's accepted by the slytherins?)

[racefortheironthrone]

Did all the medieval nobles in real history have castles like in ASOIAF

All? No.

Castles were very expensive to construct and the right to crenellate was jealously controlled by the monarchy, so it was generally the wealthiest and most powerful among the nobility who had them.

However, a little bit lower down the rungs of the nobility, you had noblemen who could afford to build a castle, but not the crenellation tax that the king collected as his fee, and thus you got "adulterine castles." (To use a modern consumer goods analogy, these are knock-offs compared to the "Gucci" of a licensed castle.)

Yet further down, your broad middle of the nobility would most likely have a fortified manorhouse - which is taking the manor house, the one thing that pretty much all medieval nobles had by definition, and essentially building a thick walled extension and other defenses (like moats or ditches) around the manor house that let the residents withstand a bandit attack or brief siege.

So it's more a spectrum than a binary of castle vs. no castle.

[britcision]

As promised, part two!

First Chapter:

Part One of this chapter:

————————

So That Just Happened part 2

In the bathroom, Jason turned the hot tap on as high as it’d go and stood over the sink, breathing in the steam. He just… he just needed to clear his head. Get his thoughts straight.

Sleep for the next six fucking weeks and make Pitty someone else’s problem, ideally.

The weight of Frostbite’s gift sat heavy in his pants pocket and he pulled the case out, shaking a single glowing ice chip into his hand. The rising temperature of the bathroom didn’t affect it at all, which didn’t surprise Jason.

He considered putting it under the stream of hot water but didn’t bother.

Frostbite said not to use them too much, or get too dependent on them. On the other hand, fuck today. So much.

He crushed the shard in his hand and shoved the pieces into his mouth. This time it tasted like ozone and limes, and stung the inside of his mouth. In a good way, though.

The rush of energy was the same, and Jason would swear he could feel his frayed edges slowly closing over. Not a real substitute for food or sleep, but sure as hell beat coffee.

He had a couple dozen more ice chips, which he tucked away in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. The mirror wasn’t supposed to have a cabinet, but it had been easy enough to make one, and so far none of his siblings had found it yet… if they even found this apartment.

(None of them would have been able to resist commenting on the collage he’d made across the back wall of their most “interesting” family photos. Or the little batburger figurines of each of their alter-egos.

Jason had made sure he got the worst ones on the market, and knew their exact positions. If a single one shifted, he’d know.)

It was on the outer edge of Crime Alley, far from the heart his family all expected him to hole up in, and the rest of the building was a completely unremarkable old library which had been abandoned before Jason was born.

Getting himself a well secured home had been easy to slip into the renovation plans; he’d had Bruce “buy” the building through Jason’s funds to start restoring it, keeping it well removed from Red Hood’s name. It was the first project he planned to put his own name on, now that he was officially alive again.

The Catherine Todd Memorial Library.

The building itself wasn’t open yet, the main part of it still being remodelled, but the needle drop off and exchange was already running from the front entrance.

This was home, as much as anywhere ever was. More than anywhere had ever been since Wayne Manor.

Jason tensed against the anger, but nothing rose this time. The ecto-ice had given him a flood of energy, the same almost static clarity, but he still felt drained. Like there was no anger left in him.

It would have been nice if it felt good.

The steam had fogged the mirror now, collecting in the air even against the bathroom’s fan. Shutting the tap off, Jason closed his eyes and sucked in a few more deep, fortifying breaths.

Maybe the ecto-ice had been a mistake. All he wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep, but he wouldn’t be able to for at least a few hours now.

Patrol was out of the question. His body may be revitalized and humming with energy, but his head wasn’t in the game. Even Lady Gotham’s embrace couldn’t pull his scattered thoughts together.

What he needed was some mindless TV, some stupidly indulgent junk food, and a blanket. He’d heard… well, things about the new Sex and the City spinoff. Not exactly good things, but things.

Carrie Bradshaw’s not-problems could be the perfect backdrop to a night in.

Alfred would probably send him cookies if he asked. This being an emergency and all. Although… it wasn’t like they could explain the nature of the emergency without the whole ghost reveal.

… Probably still worth a try though.

His Red Hood phone was still at the safe house he’d slept in, but at least one of his spares for his civilian life should be in the apartment somewhere.

The steam had mostly cleared too, leaving the mirror only slightly foggy around the edges. Jason gave it a careful wipe down out of habit; dots on the mirror didn’t usually bother him, but… he’d put Catherine’s name on the building. He wanted to keep everything in it nice.

(Which was why a lot of stuff was unused.)

It wasn’t until he opened the door that he realized he really hadn’t said anything to Danny before disappearing.

Would he have left? Fuck, that’d be the obvious choice, wouldn’t it? Getting dropped off just inside a stranger’s door, and then they just walk away from you into the bathroom.

Shit, Danny had probably left. That… Jason didn’t know how to feel about that, and the empty hall only confirmed his suspicions.

On the one hand, he really wasn’t up to more talking. He didn’t even want to think about everything that had happened today, and especially not whatever the hell was lose in his city, trying to feed his rage. He couldn’t handle one more gentle reassurance that it was okay to be angry.

On the other hand, he really, really didn’t want to be alone. The noise from the TV and the snacks would cut it in a pinch, but the only thing he actually wanted right now was company. Quiet, nonjudgemental company.

He hadn’t told any of the bats about this safe house. Not even Bruce’s contractors knew he’d snuck it in. He’d wanted it to be safe from them and from everyone else, and now he could keep his fucking secrets at the cost of being alone.

A little heavy handed as a metaphor.

… Fuck, Alfred couldn’t even bring him cookies without knowing where he was.

He turned away from the hall and made for the bedroom to grab the spare phone, though he wasn’t sure who he’d message anymore. Just as he was debating the merits of messaging Cass and getting her to do him a delivery, a noise from the kitchen caught his attention. Hope rose, slowly and uncertainly. Had Danny not left?

… Why was Danny in his kitchen, when he was a self professed fire hazard?

Caution and concern flaring right alongside that hope, Jason backtracked and hurried to the kitchen.

**

There were not enough dirty dishes.

There was like, a mug, a coffee pot, and two plates. Really, Danny should have been done in minutes and fidgeting for something else to do.

But then he’d been looking for where to put the plates away, and he’d found a really impressive spice cabinet. Right next to the stovetop, made sense he guessed, though personally he preferred to keep the damn plates where they’d be used.

He’d perused a couple of labels on the little jars, mildly amused by how many he absolutely could not even guess at. What the fuck was “marjoram”? Or “zataar”?

So the logical thing to do had been open the jars for a sniff.

All well and good. He didn’t recognize most of the smells either, and couldn’t imagine why you’d put almost half of them in any kind of food, but some of them smelled really good.

But then he’d found the garlic powder.

Danny did not cook, as a rule. Sam cooked, mostly from spite, and she always used fresh smashed garlic. Danny’s youtuber chefs mostly said the jarred chopped stuff was fine, but what the fuck was garlic powder?

And what garlic powder was, was pungent. Really, really strongly scented, and super light. Just opening the jar had puffed up a cloud of the stuff, and Danny had been about to sniff it anyway and took a bigger huff than he intended.

And then he’d sneezed.

And now Jason’s entire kitchen was dusted in garlic powder, including the dishes he’d just washed and left on the counter while he found their homes.

So Danny panicked.

Trying to dust the garlic powder off the counters with his hands only got more of it into the air, and he wasn’t falling for that fucking trap again, no sir. He went ghost again and stopped fucking breathing is what he did, then grabbed a garlic covered towel and tried to wipe the powder into a pile.

No dice.

But Danny was a professional superhero. He calmed himself down. He stopped panicking. He went looking for a dustpan and brush like a sensible adult.

And then he heard the bathroom door open, froze like a deer in the headlights, and reflexively jerked straight off the floor.

Because right, he had fucking ghost powers.

At least he already hadn’t been breathing. Luckily, Jason seemed to need something from the other side of the apartment since his footsteps pretty much immediately moved away, and Danny let out another relieved breath.

He could still fix this. This would be fine. He could telekinetically pick up all the garlic dust, and throw it in the trash because a lot was on the floor and the rest was on him and also Every Other Surface On Earth, and buy Jason more tomorrow.

Before Jason came back from wherever else he was going and realized Danny was a fucking menace. Focusing hard, Danny let his aura suffuse the room and focused on the garlic powder. Willed it to lift off whatever it was touching, and come towards him.

Of course, some of it was now on the clean dishes, and in the mug. Which fell over as Danny pulled its powder coating away.

Jason’s footsteps immediately stopped. And then began hurrying towards him.

And maybe Danny panicked again, just a tiny bit, but the good news was he did not ice over the whole kitchen! He’d grown so much since Ghost Puberty Part 2 Electric Boogaloo! He was totally in control!

He just iced the dishes to the counter and froze the floating garlic powder, which was why Jason appeared in the doorway to see Danny floating like a fucking dumbass in the middle of his kitchen, surrounded by sparkling ice crystals.

Danny raised both hands immediately.

“I can explain.”

**

So the thing about Spiderheck. The really big pain in the ass thing. Was that every round was super unpredictable, even when you weren’t playing with superheroes trying to adapt their actual abilities to spider bodies.

There really was no way to know what would be a long or short round.

Tucker had tried a couple more times to “fall” early on, only to be promptly followed by one or both of his fellow competitors.

The good news was, they were at least all tied up for now, so he’d gotten more time without anyone asking questions. The bad news was, it was match point. Whoever took this next one, if they didn’t all tie, it would be time for another set.

Aaaaand Conner and Tim were still having fun, and insisted they were just warming up, but Tucker was sweating anyway. He didn’t even know spiders could sweat.

Ancients, had he actually fucked up using his powers for the first time in years when he was trying to show off for Red Robin and Superboy?

He was going to look like a fucking newb. An absolute amateur.

And that was assuming that no one had come looking for them and noticed the empty room and still going game on the TV. Would Batman think he’d kidnapped Red Robin?

Who was Tucker kidding, he totally would. Bruce was paranoid as hell, and while he mostly seemed to be aiming it at Danny, that was probably because he hadn’t realized Tucker was liminal. Did the GIW even know about liminals? There probably wasn’t much documentation for him to freak himself out about with.

Of course, in this case he wouldn’t be wrong. Tim would be trapped. It’d just be because Tucker was a dumbass, not a malicious force. At least Tim and Conner would almost definitely believe him.

Aaaand he’d never live it down. It was only a matter of time before they both noticed he wasn’t really trying to win anymore too. He’d kept up, but that was mostly by accident. He just had a lot of practice being inside the game levels.

A lot of them could kill all the players on their own, no PVP required.

He felt like an absolute caveman when the answer finally came to him, and it wasn’t even his own idea.

Because the last level had been one of those “kill all the players” levels, and all three of them had managed to be thrown into lava close enough that the computer didn’t count a winner.

Tim and Conner groaned loudly before bursting out laughing, because of course that was what happened at their dramatic finale, and then as they’d spawned in again Tim turned to Tucker.

“Hey, can you pause before we get into this one? I just wanna catch my breath a second.”

Which, for a nanosecond, felt like the absolute end of the world, because he didn’t have his controller buttons. Because he was a dumbass.

Luckily, it also snapped him back to his senses, and reminded him of the very first time he’d put Sam and Danny into a game with him. They’d made the same mistake, not leaving anyone their actual console controls, and Danny had begun trying to actually physically break them out before Tucker worked it out.

They were his fucking powers. He could always pause them, whatever they were doing; all he had to do was close his eyes and blank out for like, a minute.

He’d been collapsing in despair that first time, and Sam had kicked him over, sat on him, and demanded he take a nap, and then they were all back in their bodies like nothing had happened.

Keeping them inside the game was the part that was difficult; it was an act of focus, and sure it felt automatic at this point because he did this all the time now, but it was still something he had to actively do. Sure, technically, he wouldn’t be controlling the game from the inside, but they’d be back in their fucking bodies in the real world.

Where the actual console controls were. And then he could reload them in, and not forget his overrides this time, and everything would be fine.

Luckily, while his brain was techno-linked, he was processing in computer-time, not people-time. There was barely a pause after Tim asked the question and the answer came, tension leaving his body so quickly he almost sagged.

He even sounded a little giddily relieved to his own ears as he answered, laughing and already shutting his eyes.

“Well, kinda. Let me just pop us back out, we should probably check the time too. Hang on.”

Luckily, this stage did not seem to have any instant death traps. Tim and Conner fucked around with the crates and the platforms for a couple of seconds while Tucker reached inside, deliberately pulling his disconnect instead of waiting, and then they were all back on the couch, controllers in hand.

He’d never been so happy to see his own hands. Or the Start button, which he promptly hit to pause all three spiders before Tim and Conner’s could swing to their deaths. Even if that would give him the win.

Tim and Conner shifted beside him, getting used to their bodies again. Tucker took the lead there, setting his controller down and stretching his arms up behind his head, the phantom sensations of extra limbs already beginning to fade.

“It stops feeling weird pretty fast, but it helps if you move around,” he explained brightly, still high on that buzz of relief.

Conner made a noise of agreement, standing and stretching his arms over his head, which made his shirt ride up. Tucker had the good sense to turn away quickly, before he got hypnotized.

Not quickly enough that Tim didn’t notice, but Tim Drake-Wayne remained the very coolest person on planet Earth and didn’t say anything. He just grinned knowingly at Tucker and rolled his shoulders, stretching out his neck.

“Okay, that was really cool. Not even a little bit the same, but really cool.”

Tucker grinned back, sheepish but still just happy he didn’t get caught.

“Yeah, there’s always the skill barrier where you can’t do the button combos, but I still feel like it helps? Y’know, understanding how the characters move and stuff.”

“I’m just glad you picked up the TTK that fast,” Conner cut in with a laugh, now bending down to touch his toes, blessedly while facing them.

Tucker swelled with pride.

“I mean, it wasn’t all that complicated. You explained it really well,” he said totally calmly, totally cool, definitely not fawning over the actual demigod in the room.

He didn’t exactly get why Conner shot Tim an entirely triumphant grin or why Tim rolled his eyes, but he wasn’t gonna worry about that. Tonight, he was batting a thousand.

He’d be tired getting back to class tomorrow, and he couldn’t exactly tell his classmates he’d been hanging out with Tim Drake-Wayne and being carried home by actual Superboy, but this was still the best week of his life. And Tim had already been talking about getting him an internship.

His life really could not be finer.

**

Jason took the mess well. Probably because Danny had a) already been working on it and b) panicked like a startled duckling and explained at a mile a minute, getting the order of events completely wrong at least twice.

Having the garlic powder iced over definitely helped the cleanup too. Jason grabbed a garbage bag, Danny floated what was in the air in, and they both took damp cloths to hunt down any stray garlic powder hiding in crevices.

Danny rewashed the dishes, but Jason dried them with a fresh towel and showed him where everything was. All in all, it was a blissfully domestic moment after a genuinely fucked day.

He could feel an unasked question waiting on the back of Jason’s tongue while they cleaned up, the shape of anticipation and something that wasn’t exactly fear, or even anxiety, just a low grade avoidance. Danny didn’t push it.

That seemed like the right answer too, because when they’d finished and stared at each other awkwardly for a long moment, Jason sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Look, I know you’ve got school tomorrow. If you’ve gotta head out…” he trailed off, resigned-tired filling his aura.

Danny raised both hands to cut him off.

“Hey. I can fly across this city in like, fifteen minutes. It’s not even half eleven yet, so if you want some company I’ve got nowhere else to be. We can talk about whatever, play some more MarioKart, or I can just make you some cocoa and go if you need space?”

Jason didn’t physically sag with relief, but that was probably because he’d already been holding himself carefully to hide the tension. Didn’t matter, because everything else about him screamed it as he raised an eyebrow at Danny, glancing around his kitchen.

“I’m not leaving you alone in here again until you’re Alfred-certified,” he declared sarcastically, and Danny grinned back.

“Ah, so never again. Good to know. It’s probably for the best, I’m a lousy cook for anything I don’t have to wrestle to the ground.” Not that he was any better at cooking it after he’d won the fight; he was just pretty good at the fighting part.

Jason’s eyebrow twitched and then he chuckled, shaking his head and pointing out of the kitchen.

“Tell you what, I’ll make you some cocoa while you go turn the TV on. Remote’s on the end table.”

That sounded like an invitation to stay to Danny! So he hadn’t totally fucked by not booking it out of Jason’s haunt at top speed; good to know.

And maybe he did physically sag with relief a little, because expressing your emotions was cool actually and everyone should totally be doing it more. And it was more fun in ghost form; he actually sunk til his feet almost touched the ground.

Didn’t go all the way when he remembered he was still in his boots. Jason’s other apartments had been pretty well lived in although still generally tidy, but this one was almost pristine. Whether it was new or he was just more careful here, Danny could take a hint.

He gestured quickly at his body while Jason pulled a cartoon of milk from the giant, gleaming blue-black fridge that looked mostly empty.

“Sure, uh… mind if I change?”

Jason blinked, which was fair since Danny had been a ghost for the past couple hours, then nodded.

“Not at all. There’s also some sweatpants and stuff in the bedroom if you wanna get more comfortable, but I don’t have as much of Tim or Dick’s stuff here so you might be stuck in mine,” he added a little shyly, and Danny’s grin widened as he remembered his new favourite shirt.

“You have five minutes to hide any other great soup shirts before I take you up on that,” he teased and Jason grinned back.

“Nah, go for it. I’ll only be a little longer than that with the cocoa though, so don’t do too much snooping around.” It didn’t sound like an actual warning, but he’d also already turned back to what he was doing… which already looked way too complicated.

He had a saucepan for crying out loud. Like Danny couldn’t see the electric kettle and fancy coffee machine. Tempted to stick around to watch just for curiosity, Danny floated back to the front door to change back and drop off his shoes and coat instead.

And hesitated.

Jason had given him permission to go to the bedroom. Change out of his jeans and jacket. He didn’t actually need to; the jeans were pretty comfy, well worn in, but they did have some built up salt, slush, and yuck from walking and driving around Gotham’s streets around the ends.

It was possible the suggestion had been more for the sake of Jason’s couch than Danny’s comfort.

He could just go intangible and let the dirt fall through, but that’d leave a pile which while technically being more contained would still be more mess. And sometimes it was hard to tell what was dirt and what was pants, since they weren’t exactly “his” either way.

He could just do laundry when he got home.

Luckily the bedroom door was open, so Danny didn’t have to poke into any of the other doors from the hall. Just like at his other apartment, there was indeed a separate set of six drawers with Jason’s siblings name on each drawer.

Well, “Dickhead”, “Timbo”, “The Purple One”, “Cass”, “Demon Brat”, and “Best Sibling”. Snickering to himself, Danny considered taking a picture. Or asking Duke what he’d done to be “Best Sibling”.

Unlike the other apartment, each drawer was mostly empty though. Just a pair of sweatpants about the right size, a hoodie, and a shirt that Jason had definitely assigned rather than getting one of theirs. Although Danny didn’t doubt Dick would own a Nightwing hoodie in the least.

The My Little Pony shirt for Damian was… well, Danny didn’t know him well enough to say.

With the clothes that might actually fit located (and honestly Cass’s were probably actually his best bet), Danny snooped through a couple other drawers to see if Jason did have any other fun shirts to steal.

There was actually depressingly little; Jason had plenty of clothes here, just like the other apartments, but all of them were… respectable. Plain. Block colours, simple patterns, normal people clothing.

Danny was just about to give up when he popped open the bottom drawer and stared in awe.

Jason’s regular wardrobe (from Danny’s admittedly limited experience) was kinda basic; plain shirt, sexy jacket, plain pants. Extra sweaters given the weather, but he did also have a pretty good collection of graphic tees with various swearwords usually featured boldly.

Where what had to be the complete collection of every Wonder Woman shirt ever made fit in, Danny wasn’t going to try and guess, but he knew good taste when he saw it.

Unfortunately, if he stole one of those, Jason was probably gonna want it back. Most of them were clearly worn, and just as clearly carefully cleaned to keep them nice. Danny wasn’t good at keeping things nice.

Somewhat reluctantly, he shuffled back to the siblings’ dresser and stole Cass’s hot pink paw print sweats, Steph’s 1000% bootlegged Sex In The City misprint shirt with the purple sparkle dildos painted over the girls, and the Nightwing hoodie. Never let it be said he could put together an outfit.

Fingering the shirt, he made his way back out and to the open plan lounge, his own clothes tossed carefully onto his shoes by the door. Jason had told him to put the TV on… and the worst he could do was say no.

Pulling up the streaming services, Danny went looking for And Just Like That. Mostly for curiosity’s sake, to be honest. He could probably sneak a trailer before Jason got back, just as a sample.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Jason appeared just as Danny found the right service, two steaming mugs of incredible smelling cocoa topped with a mass of whipped cream in his hands and a large bowl of popcorn, skittles, and smarties in his other arm.

Danny couldn’t even complain about not getting to have nice things, because if that wasn’t the epitome of a fantasy walking into the room he didn’t know what was. Hitting pause quickly, he hopped up to take the bowl for purely altruistic reasons.

Definitely not for an early handful, no matter how Jason raised his eyebrows at him. The handful was Danny’s reward for being a good citizen.

“Hey, that smells fantastic! Your family is gonna ruin me for shitty cafe hot chocolate,” he teased through a mouthful of candy.

Jason rolled his eyes but smiled, switching both mugs to one hand to set a trio of coasters on the coffee table. Danny reluctantly relinquished the bowl to the third if only to grab his cocoa and take a sip as Jason sniffed.

“Hot chocolate is to cocoa what instant coffee is to fresh,” he said snootily, like those were words that meant anything. Danny just stared at him, whipped cream on his nose purely for comedic effect.

Until Jason leaned in and wiped it away with his thumb, and Danny’s brain shut down. Unfortunate, since Jason started talking.

“So, uh… you a Sex and the City fan?”

“Huh?” Danny kept staring, pretty sure words had meanings until Jason jerked his thumb in the direction of the TV (which was huge and gorgeous because of course it was. This was the rich son of a bitch apartment Danny would expect of… okay, not a Wayne, it was still way below that level of fancy, but at least someone making a good chunk of change).

Then he shook himself out of it, grinning.

“Oh! No, never seen any.”

Jason cocked his head, eyebrow raised again.

“Then why…”

Danny shrugged, settling himself comfortably back into the couch. He was going to sound like a crazy person anyway, he might as well be comfortable.

“I listen to The Worst Idea Of All Time on my way to classes. And when I’m welding. It’s a couple of guys from New Zealand who watched Sex and the City 2 every week for a year, and a bunch of other stuff. Like, uh… Grown Ups 2, We Are Your Friends, oh and the first Sex and the City movie.”

And, sure enough, Jason looked appropriately baffled.

“What, all at once?”

“Nah, different years. They never did the actual show, but they’re doing commentary on all of the episodes of And Just Like That now that they’re out since they did both movies, which were after the show. Why, did you watch the actual show?”

Jason nodded slowly, and Danny snickered.

“The show’s not canon for the Worst Idea boys. Brady the Rat King is though.” And yeah, he probably could be explaining this more like a sane and reasonable person, but that just made the podcast sound worse.

This time it was Jason who raised both hands, even relinquishing his cocoa to do it.

“There are too many questions, so I’m just gonna start with “why?”” He was already smiling though, so Danny was going to take that as a good sign.

He shrugged cheerfully.

“Schadenfreude is the leading theory from the boys, and to be fair it is fun watching them suffer through the worst movies they can find. They’re both professional comedians though so it is actually really funny, and they’re really positive. Every watch has to have a shining light, which is something you actually liked about the movie that week. I did that with one of my lecturers last semester, a real blowhard, and it helped. Mostly it’s just the aural equivalent of comfort food; nothing challenging, no thought required, just two good soft boys making up crazy stories about movies every week.”

Jason was actually listening, pursing his lips as he considered what Danny was saying. Privately, Danny suspected having actually watched Sex and the City might work against him… although he might have been dead when at least one of the movies came out.

Finally, Jason sighed.

“So you’ve just watched the movies, and none of the show?” He asked, in a tone which told Danny exactly what he thought of the movies. So he might like the podcast after all.

Danny grinned and grabbed another handful of popcorn.

“Nah. They actively discourage us from watching them, even when they do directors commentary. And Just Like That isn’t getting the full season treatment though, so I kinda wanted to take a look just to see the outfits.” A stroke of inspiration struck him, and Danny dropped some of the popcorn into his cocoa.

Getting it back out again was not as easy as he’d have liked, but he got two pieces that were heavenly and was content to let the third wallow under the whipped cream where it had retreated.

Jason totally was not laughing at him, because he was a gentleman. It was the brilliance of Danny’s answers that had him smiling like that, for sure. And when he was sure he had Danny’s attention again, he pointed at him.

“Okay, we’ll watch And Just Like That tonight. But you have to come over and watch the original series at some point too,” he added quickly.

Danny pouted but considered it. He didn’t even know how many seasons there had been. Time for a counter offer.

“Only if you try the podcast.” Which was a totally reasonable offer and absolutely no reason for Jason to make that face as he nodded.

“Fine. I’ll give it a shot on my way to work. Happy?”

“Deeeeee-lighted,” Danny cackled, holding out a hand to shake. Which Jason obligingly shook, then nodded to the couch.

“No spoilers, okay? Unless there’s good hats. I’m just going to run and change.”

He even came back bearing a fuzzy throw from the end of the bed, which he dropped on Danny’s head and imperilled his precious cocoa. It was mostly empty by then though, and then Jason even refilled it for him, so Danny graciously gave him a royal pardon.

Jason graciously told him to shove it up his ass and settled in, and Danny swiped the remote for his impertinence. Long day now finally behind them, it was looking to be a much better night.

**

Taking a quick glance at both his League communicator and both of his phones, Bruce dismissed about thirty messages from Harley. He might have liked to talk to her earlier, and probably would actually message her back to talk later.

It had only been for a matter of minutes, but even a second of believing that Jason had died again… no. He knew he hadn’t handled it well. If he actually slept tonight, he had no doubt it would be even worse than usual, and plagued by nightmares.

Fortunately for him, he had a new case to distract himself with… or rather, a new direction for his existing case.

Diana was right; she usually was, in matters of the heart. He had to trust Jason, and trust that Jason knew what he was doing with this business in the Infinite Realms.

A year ago, Jason likely wouldn’t even have involved Bruce in the conversation, if it happened at all; he’d have dropped the evidence on Dick or Duke, or just gone around trying to blow up a rogue government agency on his own. That he had brought this to Bruce showed a lot of progress in their relationship. It gave him a reason to hope.

He would have to try and reward the trust Jason had shown in him, rather than punishing it. A proper apology, just between them… if Jason would speak to him.

A few days to give Jason time to calm down would probably help. And, if he was truthful, for Bruce to put his concerns to bed.

He may have been… hasty in leaping to conclusions about Danny Fenton. It wasn’t like him to become so entrenched in an opinion without checking it from at least a dozen more angles; the Mansons and Vlad Masters could only know so much.

Diana had been right again; he had to get to know Danny, to put his fears to rest. He trusted…

Okay. When it came down to it, he didn’t exactly trust his children not to lie to him about the dangers of a potential friend. There’d been one too many secrets-turned-disasters. But he could trust them to fact check and rat each other out if they truly believed their siblings were making a serious mistake.

For the joy of an “I told you so”, if nothing else.

Cass’s first impressions in her debrief had been illuminating. A little more discussion with her and perhaps Steph, their views were often varied enough that between them a very comprehensive picture could be built.

Talking to Danny himself again… Bruce knew himself well enough to know that wasn’t a good idea yet. It would have to happen eventually; he suspected he also owed Danny an apology for his behaviour, although no one else had mentioned it. Which was perhaps another sign of how badly he’d failed Jason.

No, he had to level his opinions on Danny first, make sure he could keep a clear head. Returning to the cave, he made his way directly to the batcomputer and sank into its familiar embrace.

Tim likely hadn’t had time to make the updates that would allow them to read through Amity Park’s data directly, but Tucker Foley had provided them with a respectable amount of downloaded data. Bruce could begin his researches there, and make some travel arrangements as well.

If he couldn’t get into Amity Park digitally, physically would have to do. Likely as Brucie Wayne rather than Batman, although repairing the town’s relationship to the Justice League was a worthy goal while he was there. And while people wouldn’t be as open to giving him information about Danny face to face, he could pick up some native tech and make his own adjustments. That should let him get past their unique protections.

And a better look at these ghosts, and an understanding of what exactly the Justice League Dark were so concerned about.

Hands pausing on the keys for a moment, Bruce briefly considered messaging Constantine again, or Zatanna. He should at least inform them that he was planning to go to Amity Park in person.

After a moment’s consideration, he sent a brief message to Zatanna. As unprofessional as it might be, Bruce knew himself well enough to know he just wasn’t up to spending any more time with Constantine at the moment.

Zatanna could brief him on any necessary etiquette just as well, with far less dramatics. A little space between himself and Constantine could only help as well. Honestly, a few days away from Gotham and all of his current headaches could only be a good thing.

Harley might even be proud of him.

——————

So here we have it! Also, by the way, that nexus thing is actually canon in the DC multiverse, and it is so much fun

[velidewrites]

Don’t Look Back

Five hundred years ago, the humans fought hard for their freedom in the Great War and won. Now, their former masters seek retribution in a rebellion that grows stronger year by year. When Elain Archeron finds out marrying Greysen Nolan might be the only solution to keep her family safe from the ancient, cruel Fae, she doesn't hesitate to fulfil her duty. What Elain doesn't know, though, is that the man with the fiery hair and russet eyes is not her fiancé, but his killer—and when she finally finds out, well…it will be far too late to turn back.

Rating: Explicit

Notes: Happy Holidays @rainbowdolphinrealm! I absolutely loved being your Secret Santa for the @acotargiftexchange and getting to know you over the past few weeks! My little elf has told me there may be some Azris angst in the background, and a surprise Azris treat is also sleighing your way soon 👀

Read on AO3 or continue for Chapter 1 below!

*Please note that for reasons beyond my control (insanity) I have given this fic way too much lore. Here is a map I've drawn!

Chapter 1: The Visitor

Elain had never thought she would be dreading the spring. It was the season her gardens bloomed, the season that melted the lakes around the manor to reflect the fluffy clouds dotting the sky above. The flowers she’d planted over the harvest would sprout to life, their sleepy buds erupting into colours Elain would dream of all winter. Two years ago, her father had gifted her the most extraordinary tulips for her birthday, the intricate paintings over the pack of seeds promising shades of violet she’d never seen in New Prythian. He’d brought them right from the fields of the Montesere province far on the Continent with a vow to bring her along on his travels next year—so that she could see their beauty for herself.

Her mother died the spring after.

Father had gone anyway, but Elain—Elain stayed. She had lost all desire to travel, anyway, especially when the circumstances of the death had hardly been expected. The Continent had assured them the Fae rebellion was not a threat to be taken seriously, and that the Governor had everything under control. Out of the eight human clans looking after their world, Lord Nolan had perhaps been the only one Elain would put her trust in. If he claimed the scattered remains of the faeries of old were entirely harmless, then it must have been the truth.

Until a small group of them had broken into the Merchant’s manor and killed his wife in her sleep, with magic so corrupted and vile that not even a speck of blood had left a stain on her sheets. One moment, she was deep in a peaceful slumber, and the next, she was simply…gone.

Everything had happened very quickly after that. Orders had come in from wherever Father had sailed off to, and the manor had been fortified with ash-dipped iron from Vallahan—made by the Forge himself—and spells Father had acquired from his trades with the North. All entirely legal and ratified by the Governor—according to Father, at least. Elain knew better than to ever question the Merchant.

The manor, though fortified to the teeth, had not been enough to keep Elain or either of her sisters safe. The very last order came in with the Merchant himself, a rare smile on their father’s deep-creased face as he announced it to his daughters. Elain had never seen Nesta so horrified as her older sister had been in that moment—pale as the moon, whiter than the sheets their mother had died in. For Nesta Archeron, the eldest daughter of the feared Merchant of New Prythian, was to marry.

Somewhere along his usual search for old faerie artifacts, abandoned over the centuries after the Great War, Father had found his way into an alliance that would secure his territory’s position on the island. With Nesta’s marriage, there would be no Fae slipping past his borders, no other clan opposing him—no human ruler to ever deny him whatever faerie secrets they’d been holding in their keep. It was an alliance that rattled the seas all the way to the Governor’s seat in Rask—perhaps even crooked the crown on his greying head an inch.

Nesta, after all, had been promised to none other than Tomas Mandray. To the son of the Harvester.

Every human territory had a role to play in the new world order—after the Great War, order seemed to be exactly what the humans needed. Their freedom, won by bloodshed and sacrifice, broke them free as slaves of the Fae. Elain still dreamed of the horrid images her governess’s books taught her—of humans in chains, gleaming with white-hot magic, burning spells into their skin that made any chance of escape nearly impossible. Had it not been for the courage of the six ruling queens, all hope would have been lost. Five hundred years later, it would have been Elain in those chains, her sisters, her Father, even the all-powerful Governor. Even the Harvester.

His territory—the dark, somber island of Hybern—was one Elain would never so much as think of travelling to. Pretending the work the Harvester did there did not exist made everyone’s lives a lot easier. While the Merchant dealt with old Fae artifacts and traded them across borders, the Harvester’s work involved a lot more of getting one’s hands dirty. Enchanted faerie objects, after all, were not the only things believed to have valuable properties. High Fae hearts, for example, promised a long life, untainted by illness.

And the Harvester…well, the Harvester delivered them. Amongst many others.

The marriage had taken place shortly after the summer, and neither Elain nor her father had been invited to witness the nuptials. She had simply watched the ship sail off West as she lost yet another sister.

She would not think about that right now—not when spring had finally arrived again. Soon, her tulips would bloom again, flecks of pinks and violets shining softly under the young, shy rays of sunlight. Elain would not be there to witness it—right after Nesta’s marriage, Father had left for the Continent again, and this time, Elain expected the order.

She was to be married next.

My dearest Elain,

It is with a full heart that I bring you the joyous news of our latest triumph. I have successfully docked in Saetre, and the Governor has received me warmly—as expected. As I’m sure you have already guessed, he was most pleased with the offerings I have bestowed him. You’ve seen them yourself—the old Illyrian dagger seems to be his favourite as of right now, though I have not yet even shown him the rest of the treasure I have acquired from the Wildlands. I can already imagine his eyes light up as I hand him the pair of wings your sister had sent in from Hybern. I shall convince him to display it right above his throne, I think—a testament to Nesta’s success.

Our deliberations commenced shortly after dinner—a roast turkey and the most exquisite stew, if you’re interested. I have already sent a footman along with a separate letter containing the recipe—so that you may have the maid try it out in the weeks before my return. Winters in Rask are quite unforgivable, and I must admit a hearty meal like this was exactly what I needed. Rask rears its own livestock, you know—an impressive one, too, if I do say so myself. To not be dependent on Braemar for your dinner plans—imagine that! I am growing quite tired of the Huntsman raising his prices every harvest. Ridiculous.

Anyway, I digress. Rask has consumed my attention entirely, as I’m sure you can tell. I am confident you would enjoy it here, too. Winters are rough, yes—but I remember how much you’ve always wanted to visit the provinces in the West. Just imagine your beloved tulip fields, illuminated by golden sunlight—imagine being able to see them at your whim. What a life that would be, would it not?

My sweet Elain, I am writing to tell you that it could be. You know how dear our family has always been to me—but you, my beautiful daughter, have always been closest to my ageing heart. It is precisely why I had devoted all my efforts, all my resources, into this agreement. Elain, it is one for the pages of history. A union like no other.

You see, the Governor—Lord Nolan, our very ruler himself—was so impressed with your dowry, and concerned with the fate of our family in the past year—that he had offered his son, nay, his heir, as a candidate worthy of your hand. Your hand in marriage, Elain.

Indeed, the past year has brought our family hardship unlike ever before. I do mourn your mother still, and the loss of our young Feyre continues to be a fresh wound in my heart. It is only fair we honour them, would you not agree? Your sister, your brave, headstrong sister, has already taken that first step—and look how happy she is with the Harvester’s son. She holds power like no other human in our family ever had—right now, she is perhaps the most powerful woman in Prythian. Perhaps even more than the Siren herself. Elain, with your beauty, your grace, your heart—you could outshine them both.

I am sure you were too young to remember meeting Greysen Nolan—you were only five, after all, and he only twelve—but he has grown into a fine young man, and as heir to the Governor, he is the most eligible bachelor our world has to offer. A fine marriage like this would give us the protection we need—New Prythian would never have to deal with faerie filth again. Our people would be safe, Elain—and all because of you. My beautiful Princess.

I do hope this news brings some comfort to your healing heart. Lord Nolan has bestowed his son with a title prior to your official engagement. The Visitor, as your fiancé is now called, has taken on the role of supervising all clans and their work—of ensuring their role in our world guarantees our continued survival amid the growing rebellions in Old Prythian and Vallahan. Elain, as wife to the Visitor, your dream will finally come true—you shall accompany him on all his travels, see the world as you’ve always wished! It brings me joy to know I have assured you that fate.

I am to remain in Rask until the snow melts. The Visitor and I shall set sail for home with the coming of spring, and we shall host a celebration in your honour. An engagement ball envied in the eyes of any other young lady in Prythian, New and Old!

I am told Greysen (is it too soon to address him as such, do you think? He is to be my son-in-law) enjoys roses the most. Perhaps you could show some thought and consideration and embroider a pattern on your ball gown? I trust that this letter gives you enough time in advance. You’ve always been so skilled at crafts and other projects of creative character.

Be safe, my sweet Elain. Better times are coming—and sooner than you think!

With love,

The Merchant

Elain discarded the letter on her nightstand, thinking she might puke if she so much as tried glancing upon it again. From the neat, elegant cursive to the tone of the very words, the message reeked of her Father—of the Merchant . There were so many things wrong with its contents that the anger she’d been stifling in the pit of her stomach for the past few weeks had bubbled all over again, threatening to burn its way up her throat. Elain had never been any good at art—that was Feyre, the Merchant’s other daughter the Fae had only taken a few months ago. Taken and never returned. She was likely dead, her body discarded somewhere in the Wildlands. And Father didn’t even care.

He didn’t care that it was him Elain had always wanted to travel with, not Greysen Nolan, not anyone else. He’d promised to bring her along, at least once. Now, it was too late. He would lose his final daughter—for the safety of New Prythian. Naturally.

A new wave of guilt crashed into her with a sudden force, killing the fire inside her with little effort. She didn’t want the marriage, that much was true—but, her father’s personal agenda or not, the Fae rebellion was as real as the Visitor, no doubt already sailing her way. The Fae, though very few in number thanks to the work of the human clans, still posed a very real threat—her mother and sister were the prime example of how dangerous those creatures were. Five hundred years ago, they’d nearly won the War—had nearly rid the world of all humans and enslaved whoever remained. Until the humans turned their own magic against them—and took their freedom back. They have continued to preserve it ever since.

The clans of Old Prythian had always been successful in dwindling the numbers of whoever remained—the Fae, in all their mighty immortality, could hold out for centuries, using their magic to roam the lands in secret. Three hundred years ago, most of them had been pushed far north to the Wildlands, old faerie territories Elain had read about in her studies. There was little information on the former Solar Courts and their rulers—other than that the most powerful of them had a history of cruelty that could make the Harvester himself flinch in horror. Some part of her was glad the territory had been reduced to rubble—that, at the very least, the humans’ ancient killers could no longer rely on their fortresses to lock them all up.

She had seen the Huntsman’s reports on recent rebel activity in Braemar, though. The faeries may have been few, yes, but those foolish enough to crawl out of the Wildlands caused problems that would usually send shivers down Elain’s spine. The Huntsman’s own daughter, stationed in the North under the Guardian’s protection, had been slaughtered no more than six years ago when their outpost was attacked. Father had told her stories of fresh, crimson blood, gleaming on the thick, white coat of snow.

For what had to have been the hundredth time in the past few weeks, Elain debated that perhaps, an alliance with the Governor’s son would not be such a terrible thing. She may not have known him—let alone harboured any affection for him—but their marriage would strengthen the clans. If she married Greysen, perhaps no one else’s daughters would be slaughtered, no one else’s mothers killed in their sleep or sisters hunted in the forests surrounding their own homes. Elain could protect them—in whatever way she could.

Either way, she had no choice.

***

The forest rippled with the sound of teeth tearing into flesh. Over the centuries, they had grown longer— sharper , which was just as well. He needed as much protection as he could get these days, especially with weapons so difficult to come by. The camp was already growing unsettled, and he could feel the tension weighing on the air whenever he returned. The past few winters had been difficult enough.

The coming of spring was a welcome change. Spring meant they could hunt—the new year brought on as many animals as it had opportunities. The prey in his arms, grasped by the claws he’d sunk deep into its skin, just so happened to be both.

And what an opportunity it was. They’d been wishing for it for decades—centuries, even, or perhaps even more. Like many others, he found himself losing count of the passing years. They all seemed the same—eat, sleep, move, hide. Kill had only recently started to disrupt his routine. Yet another change he welcomed.

He spat out the blood, nose wrinkling with distaste as if on instinct, and watched as the liquid settled into the mossy earth. The body fell to the ground a moment after, leaving a heavy thud in its wake, heavy enough that he could have sworn it echoed between the trees. He would get an earful for not being careful later. The thought made his eyes roll as he wiped his nails clean on his crumpled shirt.

He pulled it over his arms, then, letting the fabric float away with the gentle spring breeze, and took a deep, steadying breath. The small, golden rays of sunlight peering through the budding leaves warmed his bare chest, and he tilted his head up to the sky, soaking up the sensation until the quiet gurgle at his feet inevitably commanded the return of his attention.

He sighed, kicking away the arm resting on his boot. The body rolled to the side, baring the unpleasant face to his sight yet again. For what must have been the fourth time in the past two minutes, he felt himself grimace. Something so ugly should not have been this finely dressed.

This, however, was a problem he could easily take care of. Holding his breath to avoid the stench of his prey’s spilling guts, he kneeled to free it from the immaculate, navy-blue jacket, dark, charcoal trousers and boots before its blood managed to stain them. The formerly pristine shirt was unfortunately already lost to him, though he supposed his own would do just fine.

For a split second, he wondered if the body should be buried. It would take little effort on his part, and he knew it had been travelling with a party before trailing off the carriage path to piss. It would be best to not leave any evidence behind, lest any of the man’s companions decided to follow their master and look for relief in the forest as well.

He sighed again, a sound he feared was starting to become a signature of his lately. With a flick of his hand, the dirt rustled quietly, and the ground parted, swallowing the body entirely.

Good. This was good. He only wished he’d taken a good look at the man’s face before letting the worms dig into the body he’d so benevolently left open for them. He needed the memory unscathed for the spell, and right now, he could not for the life of him remember the colour of his prey’s eyes. Oh, well.

He got dressed quickly, finding the fabric a little too tight in the shoulders. Come to think of it, the trousers also seemed to be a tight fit, his thighs unusually restrained by the silken threads. He would have to walk more slowly, he supposed. Ripping his seams open in front of dozens of humans was hardly the surprise he’d spent the past two months carefully devising.

Rising to his full height, he closed his eyes then as though for concentration. The tingling on his skin was hardly pleasant, but he endured it all the same until the memory in his mind finally faded away. There was no stream nearby to look over his reflection, but he knew the glamour had worked, anyway. It always did.

To those who knew the man he’d just murdered, he would appear as Greysen Nolan—the newly titled Visitor, hell, the Governor’s own firstborn son. He couldn’t help but smirk.

It seemed that Daddy was in for one hell of a disappointment.

***

Elain could not breathe in her gown.

“Just a few more minutes, Princess,” the seamstress repeated, the sound muffled through the needle she’d clenched between her teeth.

The nickname did little to ease her nerves. The Princess was hardly her official title, but her father insisted the staff—that everyone in New Prythian called his one remaining daughter as such. She used to adore it as a little girl, though upon further reflection, she had no doubt she’d earned a few spoiled brat ’s in those years. Still, the name seemed to have stuck, and, as she always did, Elain felt her cheeks flush furiously in response.

“I’m not a princess, Lavinia,” she reminded the seamstress, trying her best not to make her tone sound too pointed.

The woman scoffed. “You might as well be, Lady Archeron. The Visitor is a titled man, and if that wasn’t enough, he is the Governor’s heir.” She adjusted the ribbons adorning Elain’s sleeve. “Our royalty may be long gone, but everyone knows the throne resides at Rask.”

Elain hummed. “There is a reason we are no longer ruled by six queens. To anoint a new monarchy would be to dishonour their sacrifice.”

The seamstress scrambled quickly, “Of course, Lady Archeron. I only meant—the Governor holds a lot of power in the realm.”

Elain sighed and looked into the mirror. “I suppose that much is true.”

“You don’t seem very excited,” Lavinia remarked, meeting Elain’s gaze in her reflection. “Surely the Visitor is an excellent match?”

“Certainly,” Elain nodded. But excellent was not someone Elain was looking for. She wasn’t looking for anyone, truthfully, and yet here she stood, watching Lavinia touch up her gown for the final time before her engagement ball was to commence. “This is good, I think. You’ve done a wonderful job—as always.”

The seamstress offered her a smile. “Try to be happy, Princess.”

“Of course,” Elain lied.

It was clear enough that Lavinia had left her alone, quietly excusing herself out of the room. Elain could hear her mutter instructions to the guards at her door—she was to be escorted downstairs, whenever she was ready. Apparently, guests had already begun pouring in, and the Visitor was to make his grand entrance shortly.

Elain hadn’t even seen Father yet. Wherever he was, he clearly would make his appearance once the public had gathered in full.

It was to be expected, but Elain felt her heart sink nonetheless. She could use a few words of encouragement right now. Usually, it had been Feyre offering them without Elain even having to ask. But Feyre was gone. Had been gone for a while.

And she wasn’t coming back.

Exhaling shakily, Elain looked into her own eyes in the mirror, ignoring the tear welling up in one corner, her expression stern.

“You’re doing this for them ,” she told herself. “For Feyre, and for Mother, and for Nesta, so that no one else has to suffer like they had.”

Her reflection nodded, the pearls in her ears sparkling with the movement. She breathed out again, one last time, and braced herself for the three quiet knocks on her door.

“It’s time, Princess,” the order sounded shortly after. Elain, of course, obeyed.

The gown was a pain to walk in. It was beautiful, to be sure—she hadn’t lied when she’d complimented Lavinia’s work—though that hardly made it a comfortable garment to wear. Elain appreciated the way the corset hugged her curves, or the way it perked up her breasts, but she also appreciated being able to take a breath without immediately choking on it. She had never squeezed into a dress so impossibly tight. The flowers—roses—crafted by the ruffles of tulle rested attached at her hips, the ribbons of her sleeves caressing them as Elain made her way down the hall. The gown spilled down her body in petals of ivory and a dusty pink, making Elain herself look like a blossoming rose, floating with every step.

She almost enjoyed the thought until she remembered Father’s letter once again—until she remembered Greysen Nolan’s favourite flowers were, in fact, roses, and the gown’s very design served to appeal to his tastes instead of her own.

Had it not been for the guard’s heavy boots sounding behind her, Elain would have entertained the idea of turning back. Would Father drag her downstairs himself? Would he lock her up in Greysen’s carriage and ship her off without second thought? Elain had never once thought her own engagement ceremony would ever feel like an execution. And yet, here she was, followed closely by the Merchant’s personal guard, dressed up like a doll for a man she didn’t even know.

The somber thought accompanied her down the marble steps spiralling down to the ballroom, consuming her so thoroughly she could hardly feel the countless stares watching her every more. Father must have invited more people than she’d thought—dignitaries from all over the island, perhaps even the Continent itself.

Perhaps her seamstress was right—perhaps Rask was the closest they could get to royalty, and Elain truly could not have found a more advantageous match. She also could not have married at all.

But then she met her father’s gaze, and the guilt hit her with a familiarity that nearly swayed her off the stairs.

His eyes—brown, exactly the shade of her own—were shining with pride so unabashed she could not help but smile in his direction. She was doing all of this for him, too was she not? For her family—so that they may never see misfortune again. Nesta had been strong enough to proceed with her own match. Why should Elain be any different? She could do this—otherwise, watching that pride dim from her father’s gaze might just be the thing that killed her.

Slowly, she made her way up the dais to meet his extended hand. Behind them, two high chairs she supposed had been made to resemble thrones sat waiting for the Lord and Lady to be. Elain’s heart quickened in the constraints of her corset.

“This is real, Elain,” Father murmured over her shoulder, as though he could hear how loudly her heart thumped in her chest. If he did, he’d grossly misinterpreted the reason behind it. “This is truly happening.”

Elain swallowed something thick in her throat, and forced another smile as she turned to face him at last. “I know, Father.”

The white of his teeth nearly outmatched the chandeliers above. “You look absolutely spectacular,” he complimented, his smile wider as he noted the tulle roses. “Are you ready to meet your husband?”

She supposed there was no turning back now.

Father nodded to the guards. “Invite the Visitor in.”

Every single head in the ballroom turned as two, white-gloved hands turned the golden, ornate knobs and swung the doors open.

Elain held her breath—then counted to three. Four. Five.

On seven, he entered.

She’d spotted his jacket first—a deep navy-blue adorned with fine, silken thread. Fitted, charcoal trousers and boots, echoing quietly off the marble floor as the Visitor finally stepped into the light.

Elain’s breath caught in her throat.

He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

His long hair was like molten fire, a stark contrast against the depth of his jacket. Shades of red, auburn and orange, falling down his back in waves as the firelight danced on his golden brown skin—almost like greeting an old friend. There was something raw about his beauty—he was hardly one of the perfect, polished aristocrats she’d danced with at other balls. No, there was a cruelty about him—as if he’d been crafted by the same flame that gleamed playfully atop the chandeliers warming her skin, melting every guard she’d ensured to build up, every reason she could think of that made him the worst fate the world had in store for her.

Elain could have sworn that fire sizzled in his russet eyes as he reached the dais—as he stopped before her and bowed at the waist.

When he looked up again, their gazes locked and held. “It is an honour to make your acquaintance, Lady Archeron,” he greeted, his voice smooth and deep. “My name is Greysen Nolan.”

[milkywayan]

on my way back to oslo from the reenactment event in sweden! it was very nice :) and it was great to see old friends and make some new ones

in the picture you can see Glimmingehus, the small fortified manor where the event was!