#go rescue your wife and child king!

[ffverr]

The way this also implies that Warren is Maddie in this parallel is SENDING ME.

There are cathedrals everywhere for those with the eyes to see

[ceilidho]

the way I start sweating reading about Knight!Ghost and Princess!Reader. Like I need this fic to survive. Gruff Ghost who can’t let his little wife disrespect him in public but never does more than put her over his knee and spank her?? And is so sweet to her otherwise, spoiling the shit out of her???

But like…what about Knight!Ghost and a bride gifted to him after a neighboring kingdom was defeated? He got to choose from a lineup and went with this little spitfire that stared defiantly at him and he was just like “yes this is mine now”

I’m sorry, I go just a little bit feral every time you post and grace us with your thoughts about all these different AUs

Knight!Ghost who’s never wanted a thing in his life, who’s worked and served since he was just a boy, maybe found wandering in the woods after the village he was raised in was burned to the ground and he was the only survivor, rescued by a nearby kingdom’s cavalry.

All he’s ever known is servitude and loyalty and his own internal code that he’s been following since he was a boy. Ghost has carved into something menacing and tough so that he would never have to endure what he did as a child. He’s become something nameless (maybe he doesn’t even remember Simon Riley, wouldn’t recognize that name if someone said it to his face because that was a lifetime and a family ago that was all burned to the ground).

All he knows is loam and dirt and blood and the smell of sweat behind his helmet. Up until his king magnanimously decides he’s worthy of a bride. And Ghost fiercely does not want to be responsible for a wife - he doesn’t want anyone apart from his king to feel like they have sovereignty over him, he doesn’t want someone to wait for him at home, he doesn’t want to disappoint someone when they find out he’s nothing but a cold hard shell of man that’s only good for fighting and killing.

And then he sees your face in the lineup, pretty and delicate. There’s a cut on your cheek from where someone threw you to the ground and it lights a fire in his belly. Suddenly all he can think about is being tied to you, keeping you warm and safe by the fire in his manor, pulling you into his chest at night under the heavy furs draped over his bed, twisting his fingers in your hair until he can pull you gently by the roots up onto your tiptoes so you can meet his lips.

“That one,” he grunts, nodding to where you’re standing still in the lineup, staring at him with distrust. “Her or no one.”

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Rescue pt. 1: knight!price x princess!reader

Warnings: talk of pregnancy, medieval standard for women, attempted kidnapping

The king was worse than you imagined, but perhaps you were being dramatic.

He had done nothing but spoke of himself, the money he had and everything else about him. You don't don't think you'd ever met a man who was more full of himself than the king and yet no one seemed to find an issue with that.

You had barely spoken to him, not that he gave you a chance, and he didn't seem to notice. You instead just spent most of you time smiling and nodding, not even wasting your energy to open your mouth.

You had also noticed that he seemed to eye the maids who walked past, paying them more attention than you, his future wife.

Was this supposed to be the rest of your life? Were you supposed to be an accessory that was decorated and put on display, being spoken at but never spoken to while your husband chased after other women?

Did your mother hate you? Why would she do this to you?

"For security." She had told you. "We need a strong ally and you are far too past the age to be unmarried, our people adore you but they talk."

It was naïve but you wished you were born in a time where you could marry for love instead. This security felt like a prison, this marriage would be your chains. You were already alone but you'd be more isolated than ever once he stole you away to his kingdom.

It took everything in you to keep yourself composed.

"I hope you're as excited as I am." The king finally addressed you later than night at dinner and you smiled instinctively.

"Of course, your majesty." Your words were like poison and left a bad taste in your mouth.

"My family and our kingdoms will grow. Soon we won't have to worry about any war."

His family.

You were paralyzed by that notion, disgusted by thinking about the man in front of you touching you or laying with you. You were sure that he'd forget about you if you were pregnant with his child or that would be the only time he'd pay attention to you. You'd be thrown to the side once you gave him an heir, you were sure of it.

Fear gripped your throat, your entire being and it became too much.

You had pushed these feelings away for months, you had ignored them and tried to convince yourself that you could do it for the sake of your kingdom and your people but you couldn't. You were terrified.

After dinner, you were supposed to make your way to your bedchamber, but once you were out of sight, you ran towards the garden.

You somehow slipped past the guards and ran to the river, but you didn't stop. Instead you ran into the forest and let the setting sun guide you far from the castle in hopes that maybe if you couldn't see it your problems would disappear as well.

You stopped when you realized there nowhere you could go. You could run to the nearest village and someone may recognize you or you'd be caught eventually by the knights. Any neighboring kingdom was too far and you'd die in the wilderness before you got close.

You were trapped.

"Are you lost, my lady?" A voice called out to you and you jumped.

A group of men stepped onto the path you were on. They looked as if they had been on the road for a while and judging by their destitute clothes they might not have a place to go to.

However, what sympathy you had for them quickly disappeared when you noticed the strange look in their eyes. You took a couple steps back, but noticed a couple other men appeared behind you.

"No." You said firmly, lying through your teeth. "I was on my way to the village."

One of the men scoffed and raised an eyebrow, not believing you. He seemed to have special interest in your dress and jewelry you were wearing, no doubt knowing exactly who you were.

"We could show you the way." He offered but you shook your head, slowly finding yourself being cornered by the men.

"I can find my own way, thank you." You swallowed hard.

"You'd be much safer with us, your highness."

You stepped away from them as quick as possible and grabbed a stick, brandishing it front of you to keep them away. You face burned when they laughed and you're not sure what it would do to help you but it was the only thing you could think of.

You could bargained them with money but they'd get more out of you if they held you for ransom.

One of the men lunged at you and you swung the stick, smacking him in the middle of the face, causing him to cry out. You hit another before one grabbed your from behind and forced your to drop the stick. You struggled and screamed before you felt something sharp poke underneath your jaw.

"You'll come complacent or dead." The man threatened as he made a show of the dagger.

Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest and you began to panic. You thought this would be it before you heard approaching hooves.

An arrow flew threw the air and hit another man square in the back before another sunk deep into a man's arm. Price rode in on his horse and drew his sword before he jumped off, engaging with the men.

He was much quicker than them and far more skilled. Iron clashed with each other and the men let out cries when Price cut them with his blade, going completely untouched.

You used the commotion to stamp your foot on the man and elbow him in the gut. You managed to push away from him, not before getting cut with his blade on your arm, before you ran away from him.

Price grabbed you and pulled you behind him. He stood in front of you protectively and kept his bloody sword brandished to deter the bandits from moving any closer to you.

"Stay behind me." He told you lowly. "I'll keep you safe."

You blame the reason why your chest was set aflame on the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Some of the bandits were dead, lying in a pool of their own blood, while others held onto their bleeding wounds. Their leader glared at Price but he didn't falter.

"Bastard knight." The leader spat.

"You wouldn't want to lose more of your men would you, eh?" He stood tall and kept a fierce, but confident look in his eyes. "I'm more than willing to let you if that's what you want however."

The bandit thought for just a moment they all ran away into the forest.

Your arm stung and you placed your hand over the wound while you watched them run. Warm blood stained your hand but you were more focus on Price in front of you, unable to take your eyes off the back of his head.

The warmth in your chest only grew as he turned to you, his eyes sharp but laced with concern.

a/n: i think i know who fell first or at least who i want to fall first

Tags. @deadbranch @makayla-666 @glitterypirateduck @dumbbitchgalore @m0chac0ffee @dragonbe-writing @sleepyoriana @twismare

[thebluehair23]

Imagine :Gil-galad’s wife bravely rescues him, leading to a heartfelt confrontation and reconciliation.

Title: Bound by Love and Bravery

When Gil-galad set out for battle, you felt the familiar knot of fear tightening in your heart. Every part of you urged him to stay, to be cautious, but he was the High King and duty called. Days passed, and reports came back to Lindon—a battle gone wrong, Gil-galad captured, trapped in the heart of enemy lines. Though you pleaded with the council to send a rescue party, they refused, their fear for their own lives outweighing their loyalty.

But you couldn’t accept it. You couldn’t bear the thought of him trapped, suffering, while you stood by, powerless. Even more so now, as you carried his child within you—a secret you had only just discovered. The thought of your child growing up without a father was too much to bear. And so, you made up your mind. Taking only what you needed, you left under cover of night, riding alone through perilous lands, determined to bring him back.

Days later, you reached the enemy camp under the cover of darkness, finding Gil-galad bound and held in a wooden cell, guarded by orcs gathered around their campfire. Your hands trembled, but with careful planning, you managed to set up a trap—stones rigged to fall, fire set to engulf the camp in chaos. When the flames rose, the orcs scattered, caught off guard by the sudden assault. Seizing the moment, you dashed toward Gil-galad’s cell, breaking the locks and pulling him free.

“Are you mad?” he hissed, his face twisted with fury as he took in your appearance. “What were you thinking, risking your life—and the life of our child?”

“We’ll argue later,” you said, tugging him toward the trees as the flames spread behind you.

Once mounted on his horse, you rode through the night, pressing on until you were far from danger. Finally, exhausted and wary, you found refuge in a small, hidden cabin owned by a mysterious figure—an old shifter, who could transform into a wolf but whose heart was kind.

The wolf-man greeted you both with warmth, setting out a simple meal: bread, eggs, and fresh milk. You were ravenous, and the food disappeared almost as soon as it was set in front of you. Gil-galad watched you in silence, his eyes still clouded with anger and worry as you ate, hardly pausing for breath.

Once you finished, he finally spoke, his tone sharp with frustration. “You had no right to risk yourself. You put our child in danger. What would I have done if I had lost you both?”

You met his gaze, unyielding. “And what would I do without you? How could I go on, raising our child alone, knowing I could have saved you?”

He clenched his fists, his anger softening slightly, though he remained tense. “That isn’t a risk I would ever want you to take.”

“And I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try,” you replied, your voice shaking with raw emotion. “You are my heart, Gil-galad. I can’t imagine a life without you. I would face any danger if it meant bringing you home.”

The room fell into silence, and your eyes began to sting as you held back tears. Unable to bear the tension, you turned to the wolf-man, asking where you could sleep for the night, hoping to find a place alone to calm your heart. He led you to a single room with one bed, his gaze full of quiet understanding.

Your heart sank. You couldn’t avoid Gil-galad tonight, but as you lay on one side of the bed, facing away, you kept your distance. Moments later, you felt the bed dip as he lay beside you, both of you engulfed in silence and unspoken feelings.

Then, his arm slid around your waist, drawing you gently back toward him. His touch was warm, comforting despite his earlier anger. Slowly, you turned to face him, finding his gaze softer, more vulnerable.

He brushed a hand over your belly, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and sorrow. “It isn’t only you I nearly lost today… I nearly lost him, too.”

You managed a small smile, brushing your fingers over his hand. “Him?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “For all we know, it could be a daughter.”

He chuckled, pulling you closer until you were nestled against his chest. “Perhaps,” he murmured, his voice softening. “But I know that you both wanted me safe. No matter how angry I am, I can’t deny… I’m grateful you came for me.”

You let out a small laugh, the tension between you melting as you relaxed against him. “I’m not the only one, you know. He wanted his father back, too,” you teased, though you knew it was your love for him that had driven you to such lengths.

Gil-galad’s eyes sparkled with affection as he gently stroked your hair. “Perhaps,” he replied, amusement dancing in his gaze. “But if I know him at all, he’s inherited his courage from you.”

In that quiet moment, you felt the strain of the journey fade away, replaced by a deep and lasting warmth. You lay together in the flickering candlelight, your love strengthened by the trials you had faced, knowing that you would face any danger for one another. And for now, in each other’s arms, you were home.

[chiisana-sukima]

if heaven/hell hadn't been vying for the apocalypse, do you think sam ever would have reasonably had a shot at escaping / having an actually good and healthy life? just curious about your opinion! :)

I think the root problem was Azazel, and that neither Sam nor Dean could've done better than they did in canon as long as the instigating event of Azazel's deal with Mary remained unchanged. Plotwise, as long as Azazel still wants Sam to rule Hell's armies, everything is still essentially the same up to the point when Dean goes to Hell and Sam is killing himself with drugs and alcohol trying to get there too.

Ruby's machinations are the first thing that would've gone differently in a No Apocalypse universe, and although Jared didn't start playing Sam as having overt, symptomatic PTSD until after the Cage, even without Ruby this is still a man for whom the only way out is through. He would've gotten himself to Hell one way or another, simply because he couldn't tolerate having Dean there in his stead. And given time in Hell as an inevitability for both of them, I can imagine it ending worse than canon, but I can't imagine it ending better.

In the bad (complimentary) spn in my head, the most likely outcome would be that since there would be no rescue from Cas, Dean would be a demon by the time Sam managed to get to him and Sam would eventually end up the King of Hell in order to protect Dean. The CW's spn I don't think would go that far, but before the first writers' strike cut s3 short, they were planning on having Sam go "fully darkside" (whatever that means) to rescue Dean, so I can't see that ending well either.

I want to specify though that I think Sam did get out and live a good, relatively healthy life. He died at home of natural causes at what appears to be a reasonably advanced age, with his apparently well-adjusted adult son at his bedside. Since the cycle of violence in spn is represented by failure to accept the death of loved ones (Mary->John, John->Mary, Sam->Jess, Dean->Sam, Sam->Dean, Dean->Sam again, etc), the reversal at the end with Dean asking Sam to let him go, Sam doing so, closing down the bunker, and having his own child who as an adult lets him go in turn, represents the end of the Winchester curse.

I don't think Sam ever recuperated 100%. He names his kid Dean after all, which is touching, but also kind of concerning given Everything. And the shrine of dead family pictures with no photos of living family to balance it out is a bit weird.

But, blurriness of his gender-nonconforming husband wife notwithstanding, this is a montage of a good life:

He's happy. His son is happy. He goes to parks and has a home and is proud of his son for studying and playing catch.

I assume the Sam of this montage still has PTSD. Jared still has MHIs irl and still sees a therapist after however many years, and he was the one who embodied Sam's PTSD for us on screen. I still have PTSD that I got when I was 10, and I'm 60 now and my daughter is 27. It's a disability. But the hard parts don't mean you haven't had a good life in total. Barely pulling through at 38(-ish, the age Sam was when Dean died his final death) doesn't mean your disability won't be well-managed at 48 or 58.

A lot of Sam fans feel that because when Sam died his Heaven was back with Dean, sitting in the passenger seat of Dean's car, listening to Dean's music, presumably following where Dean leads, without Dean first having had a chance to grow beyond the damage he had and passed on to others, it means Sam didn't escape his past. Tbh I think this interpretation is valid. I don't think any of the writers of spn through the years could imagine a story in which the members of a relationship are truly equals, treat each other as equals, and are treated by the narrative of their story as equals. We live in a society.

But I'm not naive by any stretch, and I nonetheless can imagine it, I'm better than them, so I'm satisfied. I don't want a revival, and the more time goes by for J2M to grow out of a plausible age range to set the revival before the finale, the less I want one, for precisely this reason. I prefer my own version of the future.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Kidnapped Part 2

Sihtric x reader

Authors note: it is the second part of the requested fic about Sihtric’s wife being kidnapped by Heasten while expecting a child. It is obvious that another part will have to follow. I am sorry, I got side-tracked and I still have no clue how Sihtric will get his family back. I hope you will enjoy this interlude.

Warnings: nothing serious, some fluff, mention of slitting someone's throat, childbirth, without going into detail

Word Count: 2,566

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

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

“He said what?” Uhtred’s voice resonated with anger and anxiety as he paced around the room. "Are you absolutely certain this is your wife's necklace?" he inquired.

“It is, Lord. What should we do, Lord?" Sihtric stood near the doors, his arms awkwardly hanging at his sides as if uncertain of what to do with them, his gaze fixed on Uhtred. Finan and Osferth sat opposite each other at the table in the middle of the room, exchanging worried glances.

Sihtric had roused them in the dead of night, practically shaking them out of their slumber, and recounted his encounter with the messenger from Heasten. Once he had informed his friends, they promptly awakened Uhtred.

"Lord, if we join Edward’s army, I will never see my wife and child again. That's what he said," Sihtric's voice trembled as he repeated the dreadful message. An unspoken plea filled his eyes as he looked at his Lord and friend.

"Sihtric," Uhtred approached him and placed his hands on his shoulders, "we will find a way to rescue them. You have my word. Do you hear me? I promise you, I will not let any harm come to your family.”

"But we are still going into battle!" Sihtric's voice was hoarse, laced with despair. How could it be that Uhtred did not understand how impossible this was? Uhtred had lost Gisela; he was supposed to know the agony of having one's heart torn from the chest, the entire world shattered at ones feet. There was a simple solution to prevent the same fate for Sihtric – to let Edward fight his damn battle alone. Alfred was dead, and there was no oath binding Uhtred to the new king.

Uhtred had heard the agony in Sihtric’s voice and gazed into the mismatched eyes of his friend, his brother in arms, as he kept his hands on his shoulders. He still remembered how he felt when Hild had told him about Gisela. In that moment, he would have done anything, everything to make it unhappen. He understood Sihtric's feelings all too well. Leaving Edward to his fate and avoiding the battle would be the easy way out, but what would happen afterward? The chances of Edward winning the battle alone were slim. Cnut would likely win, and Wessex would fall to the Danes. Would that ensure Heasten returned Sihtric's wife safely and unharmed? Or would it turn her into an unnecessary burden, making her vulnerable to being sold into slavery, if it hadn't happened already?

Uhtred withdrew his hands from Sihtric’s shoulders and unsheathed his short sword, the Wasp-Sting. Sihtric, Finan and Osferth gazed at him, their eyes wide with surprise.

“Sihtric, my friend, you know I trust you with my life,” Uhtred continued, pressing the hilt of the Wasp-Sting in Sihtric’s slightly trembling hand, “If you doubt for a moment that your family is as dear to me as it is to you, if you question my commitment that I will do everything in my power to help you rescue them and bring them back home unharmed, you can cut my throat here and now, and I will not resist.”

Bafflement filled Sihtric's eyes as he looked at the sword in his hand and then back at his Lord. The tension between them was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Without uttering a single word, Sihtric shook his head and returned the sword to Uhtred's grasp. He didn't doubt Uhtred's words. How could he? They were brothers bound until death and beyond. He would die for his Lord, and he knew Uhtred would do the same for him, for each and every one of his men, without hesitation. It was their unwavering trust, loyalty, and friendship that made them a formidable force—the wolf pack of Bebbanburg.  

“We will find them, and we will do it together. And, yes, we will go into battle, but only after your family will be safe,” Uhtred’s voice exuded firmness and confidence, without the slightest hint of doubt.  

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

Life in Heasten's camp was not as harsh as you had imagined. You were left to your own devices, as it was evident that you were not in a state of daring an escape. The camp housed numerous women, as many Danes who joined Cnut and Heasten had brought their wives and children, hoping to settle in the newly conquered lands. To your great surprise, you discovered that it was not uncommon for Danish women to fight alongside their men. The legendary tales of fierce warrior women, known as shieldmaidens, had been mere stories to you, but now you witnessed them firsthand. These women wore armour and carried weapons, training and sparring on equal footing with the men. At times, you found yourself envious of their freedom, unburdened by the strict rules and prohibitions that governed the lives of Christian women. Over the course of two months spent in the camp, you even forged friendships with some of these women, as you spoke a bit Danish, having learned it from Sihtric and Gisela.

The Danes proved to be a cheerful folk. They loved good food and ale, revelling in singing and feasting. Even if some of their customs seemed strange to you, they were far from the cruel beasts eating their new-born children as some Saxon priests were portraying them. Of course, there were some cruel and ruthless specimen among them and Heasten was a good example of those, but you knew all too well that this was not a characteristic of all Danes or heathens. You had encountered enough vicious and ruthless Christian men in your life. In general, the Danes appeared to relish life with an unseen passion, living with a profound intensity and attentiveness to their surroundings that you had rarely experienced before. Slowly, you began to understand why Uhtred liked them so much, and you couldn't deny that you, too, had grown fond of them. Perhaps that was also why, despite being a Christian yourself, you had fallen in love with a Dane. Memories of the first time you met your husband remained vividly etched in your mind.

Sihtric had always been different—distinct from the men you had known in your life. He was the first not to judge you for your past, the first to truly see you as a person and not merely as a toy or object meant to please and obey. It was not a secret that you had been a whore when you first met. Uhtred and his men had arrived in Winchester straight after a victorious battle and while Uhtred was bringing the good news to the king, his men, filled with adrenaline and elation to have survived the battle, celebrated their triumph in the tavern.  They boasted with silver and demanded ale to drink on their victory and the ladies of the house instantly sensing the opportunity, crowded them trying to catch their attention. However, you were not into it, not this evening. You had been so tired and disgusted by this life, that you had finally tried to break free and secured a kitchen job in Lady Elthwith’s household. Happiness seemed within your grasp until you discovered that Lady Elthwith's husband was a regular guest of the back chambers in the tavern, believing he now had his own personal whore at home without paying for it. In your foolish determination to start a new life there you refused him, but the consequence was swift—you were fired and cast out onto the streets.

Today, you had returned to the tavern and begged the mistress to take you back, which she agreed to willingly, considering how popular you were among her clients. As you sat at the counter, tears welling in your eyes, you hoped nobody would notice you. You longed for this to be the last day of your dreamed-of different life; tomorrow, you would be a whore once again, but today, you still wanted to be a kitchen maid. Amidst your emotions, someone approached and took the seat next to you. Turning your head, you saw a young Dane, one of the warriors who always traveled with Uhtred. You had noticed him before—youthful, handsome, somewhat shy, silent, and thoughtful.

“The young man has paid good silver for your company the whole night,” your mistresses whispered in your ear, startling you as you hadn’t noticed her approaching from behind, “He is such a sweetheart, don’t disappoint him.”

A sigh escaped your lips as you lowered your gaze and, without looking at the young man, took his hand. You rose from your seat, leading him to your room with him following closely behind. Once inside, you closed the door and turned to see the young warrior sitting on your bed. You approached him, lifted your skirt, and straddled him as you sat on his lap.

“Tell me what you want me to do first?” you asked finally looking in his big, expressive eyes that were intensively watching you. “You have paid for the whole night, so we have plenty of time to fulfil all your wishes.”

His arms wrapped around your waist, and his hand began to gently caress your back, his fingertips tracing up your spine and back down to your waist. The touch was surprisingly gentle and soft. If this had been another day, you might have even found some enjoyment in it. It was a rarity for the men paying for their pleasure to show such tenderness.

"You looked so sad, tears in your eyes, as fragile as if you were about to break," the warrior whispered, his gaze locked with yours. It was the last thing you expected to hear, and your eyes widened in surprise. "You don't want to be here, do you?" he asked in his soft, husky voice, his thumb gently stroking your cheekbone as he continued to look at you with tenderness. Your remaining composure crumbled under the weight of his genuine concern. Despite not wanting to disappoint this gentle young man, who had surely spent a significant amount of silver for the whole night with you, you could no longer hold back. Tears started rolling down your cheeks, and your shoulders trembled as you hid your face in your hands, overwhelmed by uncontrollable sobs. To your utmost surprise, you felt his strong arms enveloping your shoulders, pulling you closer, and cradling you carefully against his chest, his hand tenderly stroking your hair.

“You can demand your money back, or the mistress will find you another girl. I am so sorry I am disappointing you,” you whispered through your sobs.

“Don’t, there’s nothing for you to be sorry about,” he hushed you, still holding you tightly in his embrace. “You are safe here with me. I don’t want my money back.”

“But I can’t. I am sorry, I just can’t, not today,” you begged as tears continued to roll down your cheeks.

“Oh, no, no. I did not mean that. I will not touch you; I promise,” the young warrior interjected hastily, “You just reminded me of someone, someone very dear to me. The look in your eyes, the way you tried to stay unnoticed, the sorrow emanating from you. I’ve seen this all too often, unfortunately, and haven’t been able to do anything about it. I couldn’t bear the thought of some drunken fool having you for the night and making you do something you so obviously did not want to.”

You couldn’t believe your own ears as you raised your tearful face and looked in astonishment at the young Dane, who still held you in his embrace.

“I don’t understand you,” you whispered.

He raised his hand, and you flinched involuntary at the motion, but he just gently tucked the strand of hair falling into your eyes behind your ear.

“I am sorry,” his eyes flared with compassion, “Please believe me, I will not hurt you, never.”

You were brought back from your sweet memories by a sudden wave of pain in your belly. You staggered and moaned loudly, clutching your tummy with both hands. A woman passing by saw it and instantly came to support you.

“Calm down, sweetheart, breathe slowly, your baby is coming,” she told you with a warming smile, holding you by your shoulders. Other women came running at her call, and supported by dozen gentle hands, you were brought to the tent of the old midwife and healer and lowered onto the heap of furs.

You had no idea how much time had passed. The waves of pain mixing with short moments of relief, the old midwife burning brunches of juniper berries, the other women placing a cold compress to your forehead and humming their prayers to Freyja  – everything was blurred and vague in your memories. The only thing you remembered clearly was the thrilling sound of your new born child’s first cry, a sound that filled you with complete happiness and relief. All you wanted was to hold this small miracle, so you stretched your arms out, but before the midwife could place the child in them, you twitched in another wave of pain. The midwife gave you a worried look and passed the babe to the woman standing next to her. Your eyes were wide with awe and fear. What was happening?

“Freyja stay with us! You are blessed with another child,” the midwife told you. Another child? You thought your Danish was too poor to fully grasp her words, but another wave of pain brushed over you, and you understood that it was not over yet.

“You were great, Freyja be praised for staying with you,” you heard the midwife’s soft voice. “Look at them! What a blessing! A boy and a girl! Healthy and strong! Just look at them!”

The overwhelming feeling that engulfed you when you took hold of the two tiny bundles was beyond words to describe, and the bliss that overtook you when you gazed upon the small, sleepy faces of your children surpassed any other feeling you had experienced in your whole life.

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

“We have found their camp, Lord. Sihtric’s wife is there, unharmed,” Rypere’s voice resonated with pride as he delivered the news to Uhtred, “And there is some other good news for you,” he continued turning to Sihtric, who sat in the back of the room, sharpening his axe.

Sihtric raised his brow and looked at Rypere with questioning eyes.

“You are a father, my dear friend!” Rypere’s answer caught Sihtric off guard, causing him to jump to his feet, his gaze filled with surprise and disbelief.

“I think you should sit down, before I tell you the rest.” Rypere grinned, wearing his sweetest smile.

“What? What do you mean? Is she all right? What else have you found out?” Sihtric rushed towards Rypere, gripping his shoulders, and looking bewildered in his eyes.

“You have a son, my friend.” Rypere replied, “And you have a daughter.”

“What?” Sihtric exclaimed in astonishment, the world spinning around him as he slowly grasped what Rypere had just said, “A son and a daughter?”

Sihtric’s legs gave in, shaking, and he would have surely collapsed if Finan and Osferth hadn’t caught him, wrapping him in a tight embrace laughing from the depths of their souls.

“You have twins, Sihtric! You lucky bastard!” they were cheering at him.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Tags: @namelesslosers

[tohokuu]

elysium rising - gojo satoru

REBLOG MY WORK. 

warnings : smut, fluff, angst, one sided friends to enemies to lovers, greek au, adultery/cheating, sukuna is an asshole, mentions of mass terror, blood and death.

underworld scenery inspired by lore olympus

a/n : reposting this with gojo. it’ll also be broken into parts so fill out the taglist form here ! 

pt 1. pt 2. pt 3. pt 4.

“she who walks the floors of hell finds the key to the gates of her own heaven, buried there like a seed.” 

-

it was your misunderstanding that the charming king of the underworld would ever leave you alone. it was fate that day that lead him to you; beautiful beneath the glow of helios, picking flowers from demeter’s vast garden. with him, he had brought an odd looking dog. “cereberus.” he told you. “his name is cereberus.”

to say the dog was terrifying was an understatement. he was well over four feet, three heads protruding from it’s shoulders. cerberus was white and covered in black spots, a dalmation variant. he resembled the king in a way; tall and intimidating. however, the king behaved nothing like the tales your mother had told you as a child. demeter told you about the way he ruled the underworld with an iron fist. he was ruthless and greedy, and certainly never cared about anyone else’s feelings.

perhaps that was true. true for everyone else except you. that day, he had approached you with utmost kindness. his smile was captivating and his eyes shone so much, that your mothers garden reflected in his eyes. “you must be y/n.” he said. his voice dripped like sweet honey on a hot summer day. you nodded, taking in his beauty. you fumbled over your words, not knowing how to respond to someone as grand as him.

he laughed and dear gaia, it was so beautiful. his laugh flowed with the winds, and you swore your mothers garden that you wanted to hear it forever. “my name is gojo satoru, king of the underworld. i’m sure you’re familiar with my two brothers, choso and sukuna.”

you nodded, obviously familiar with the grand sukuna, god of the gods. you knew choso too well, all your time was spent with either your mothers garden nymphs or his water nymphs. all three brothers ruled over the three realms together.

sukuna was always wrapped up in another woman’s arms other than his wife, hera. choso was always off to rescue stranded clownfish halfway across the sea, but there was never any news of gojo, or at least never any good news of him.

“the god of the dead” they said. the older nymphs told you stories of him, how he took advantage of everyone around him, how he separated from his brothers due to an argument several hundred years ago. they told you the stories of how he attacked mortal villages, bathing in the blood that painted the skies. the stories of the underworld were equally terrifying. various dark hounds haunting the streets, terrorizing the souls that resided there.

“i’ve met your brothers, yes.” you responded, not wanting to seem too wrapped up in your daze.

the king seemed nothing like the way they had told you. other than his terrifying hell hound, he seemed rather harmless, but that could have been how he deceived all his victims. after a slight feeling of discomfort overcame you, you tried to come up with the best excuse to leave.

“i have to go. i’m sure my mother is wondering where i am.” he nodded, stepping aside to let you through and you were positive he was staring at you from behind with the way your skin crawled.

how had the atmosphere changed so fast ?

-

it was several hundred years later that you had seen him again, an established young goddess overlooking the garden you had grown up in. everything was quite fine that day until one of your younger sisters strolled into the large home you and your sisters lived in.

“mother ! the king is calling for you. it’s an emergency. yuuji said you must make haste!” and without much word to you, demeter strolled out. you knew your duties, so it isn’t like you needed a run down of it from her anyway.

but you wish you had at least kissed her goodbye when the ground beneath you split. the earth swallowed you whole while your sisters frantically ran to your siide, but it was to no avail.

your mother was not gone for more than ten minutes. the world seemed like it had split open and you knew this was no ordinary storm. the lightning resembled the shapes and patterns on king sukuna’s body too much. 

this was his doing. 

the air had been so clear before, why was it pouring now ? had sukuna no mercy ? was this a ploy to snatch you away from the comfort and warmth of your home ? all the thoughts of what could have been happening rushed to your head. why ? how ? you could see the butterflies from before disintegrate to dust, your sisters screams and tears filled the wind.

you tried to snatch vines to hold yourself to the green realm, but it wasn’t working. each piece of shrubbery that you touched felt hot. 

the garden before you burned and the streams of water that used to be clear were now muddled with grime. you fell, and fell and continued to fall. you saw the ground open up. dirt, rocks, and lava poured past you. you gasped in shock as the rubble hit you. long hair blowing in the air blurred your vision, you couldn’t see at all. the grey sky became smaller and smaller until it was a diamond above you.

the wind rushed passed your head and your ears went deaf. what could you do but accept your fate? there was no one to save you from the place you knew you’d end up in. 

a sliver of you knew he’d never give you up. he wasn’t kind and once something fell in his domain, he didn’t let it go very easily. 

REBLOG MY WORK.

©️ tohokuu. do not steal or plagiarize.

taglist form.

[a-funeral-pyre]

May Day Parade 2024 - Prompt One: May King Mordred

I did an attempt at re-editing and finally posting an old fic of mine for @queer-ragnelle 's May Day Parade! Although I have to admit I am not fully satisfied by the translation, but there is not much that can be done for that. Here we go:

“Yit that traytour […] Turns hym furthe tite, and talks no more Went wepand awaye, and weries the storndys That ever his werdes ware wroght, siche wandrethe to wyrke” (Allitterative Morthe Arthure)

The sky should not have been so dark today. It is barely midday, and this should have been a peaceful day. But the sun is gone, along with any hope of changing things.

It doesn't cause you any pain. Darkness is your most ancestral memory.

You were born in darkness. You were always destined to live there. Generous hands have rescued you from the abyss only to lead you onto a path devoid of light.

Deep down, you have known it from the beginning.

Before you even knew who you really were there was a voice that came from the night and whispered to your soul. You knew you were fated to be more than just a fisherman's son.

You thought your destiny was to become the heir of a king. You realized too late that you had to be an avenger.

Your father must pay for what he did.

It seems everyone has forgotten the massacre he chose to carry out. Everyone except you. And now you will bring justice and take your rightful place.

You could have repressed your hatred if it weren't for the blood that unites you. You did not ask to be born. You are just the result of his actions, but he's always been too busy looking at you suspiciously to realize that. He never wanted you and he tried to destroy you as soon as you came into this world. The time has come to punish him.

And you don't care how many will be burned by your revenge. Not anymore.

You could have spared Guinevere. But she didn't deserve to have Gareth pay for her. You wished it was her beautiful, cruel face to be frozen in death, her head to be severed. She could have loved you. If not as a wife, then at least as a friend.

But you are the symbol of her husband's guilt, and this is enough to make you enemies.

Now it doesn't matter anymore. You stopped desiring her. When you return, seeing her become aware that in the end you won - the bastard, the traitor, the sick fruit of the king's sin - will be enough.

This time you are certain to win. The darkness around you is witness to this. You will have what is yours, you will avenge the victims of your father, your mother...

And yourself.

Maybe your father thought this time would never come. Maybe he believed that welcoming you into his court was enough to erase the fact that he tried to kill you.

He was naive enough to think you were harmless and he thought that, like everyone else, you couldn't see through his mask of justice and virtue.

All you had to do was look him in his eyes to know what he thought of you. A youthful mistake, a child that should never have been born, dangerous just for existing. He could never have been a father to you. He could never see you as anything other than an enemy.

Now he doesn't hide it anymore.

All your life you have done what he taught you. You have lied. You will rise to power by cheating and killing, as your grandfather did, and you will prove yourself to be your father's worthy son. Then the throne can only be yours.

You are not alone. You have an army with you. Men who saw you worthy of being king, men who long to see you in your father's place. And it doesn't matter that they only follow you for the benefits you promised them. They chose to help you. They chose to raise you to the place you should not have conquered by force. They are more loyal to you than your family ever was.

You have them, and more. You have the blood of kings on your side. You are about to kill a murderer If there really is a just God, He can only be on your side.

You can finally take off the mask you've kept on for years and breathe. For the first time, you are truly alive.

This unnatural night that has fallen on the world will be the dawn of victory for you.

The lie you have woven all these years has come to an end. Just a few hours and you will be king. You will get what you want. You will be respected, you will be loved.

You have to keep telling yourself this until it's all over. Just one last trick on yourself. Just enough to keep going.

Then you will be satisfied with having repaired the wrong you have suffered. You will be able to go on living alone. It won't be too difficult – it's just what you've done so far.

You were born for this moment, to follow the path that fate had written for you. You will have to be able to survive what comes next.

You will have to delude yourself that you can achieve victory. That you can be the master of your destiny.

You have believed in your hatred for so long that you no longer perceive its meaning, but you have gone too far to stop now. You've been alone too long to find a way to bridge the gap between you and your father. From the beginning you had to take on this role. Thus said the prophecy that shaped you.

Deep down you are aware that only emptiness will come afterwards. You've been waiting for this moment your whole life. And you are afraid, because without the desire that has sustained you so far you will no longer be anything.

This will be your last moment. If you survived, you could try to be reborn. You could truly live, finally, once you are free from your father's shadow.

But you are not made for the light of life. Only for this darkness. Only in this moment, now that you are so close to your goal, you really exist.

And nothing has changed compared to before. You are still completely alone.

You had no one to accompany you this far. If Agravain lent you his help, it wasn't because he believed in you. There is no seer who can advise you along the way. As if the fate that put you on this path had abandoned you from the beginning.

You are not naive enough to delude yourself that things will change when all this is over. You have to believe that it is a valid price to pay for what you are about to do, because now you can no longer go back.

You will undo everything you were, everything you are. You're not sure if you'll still be anything after that.

But you can't care about what you might have been if there had been another way. Not anymore. It didn't matter to your father, a bastard born of deception too virtuous to let you become king like he did. You should follow his example, at least this time, and bury all visions of a brighter future.

Even if you had the chance to rebel in the past, you can't do it now. You are just the shadow that must suffocate the light.

You see him, your father, in front of you. Proud and terrible. White and shining. The sun that disappeared from the sky was incarnated in him.

It will burn you, and you know it. You are already defeated. You're better off accepting it and giving up. He will never forgive you, you would die anyway, but at least you would have consciously chosen something, even just once in your entire life.

There's no more time.

As much as it is a crime, as much as it is useless and does not fulfill your hopes, you will do what is right. What you want, what you have to.

All you will do is fulfill desires that were never entirely yours. You have to accept your nature. You are just an instrument of fate.

And when your father dies, you will bring no new dawn. Only darkness and silence, again.

You could have had a normal life. Arthur might have made you his heir. Or he would simply smile at you, every now and then. He would have spoken to you with the same love with which he spoke to your brothers. If he hadn't believed in the prophecy. If I hadn't hated you. If you had not hated him, fulfilling your fate.

You never had a choice.

You had to get here no matter what. You have shed too much blood and tears. Gawain, who, however loyal he was to the wrong person, was still your brother, was only the last of the sacrifices, of the bodies you had to pile up to climb to this moment.

You can't stop anymore. There is nothing left that can save your soul, or at least deprive you of the painful awareness of having lived in vain.

Your father was a glorious and ephemeral flame. You were born just to turn the page.

Nothing more than this.

You existed for him, and together with him you will die. There is nothing you can do to change things now.

Just a moment and you will be free from everything. Whatever awaits you in hell will be no worse than the years you spent on this Earth.

And as his spear slides into you, as his light pierces you, you just wish you had another chance, to go back, change fate, and be happy.

But it's too late. Your name will always be a whisper in the darkness, a black stain in this shining legend, and in your torn body there is no longer enough breath to cry out your pain.

Camlann stands silently over your ruin.

[myfandomprompts]

𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟒

Summary : Back in Deep Den, you are doomed to live without Aemond as you carry his child, but the civil war takes a turn and you might see light again.

Warning : Fire & Blood spoilers (still not canon partly) Masterlist (Part 23 - Part 25)

A/N : Sorry for the delay, I have many chapters in store and figuring out the end, thank you for being your kind words all of you!

“Why was I not notified of this? I am part of this family too, I should have gone with him.”

Your mother was watching you pace the room with concerned eyes, your agitated state worrying her due to your current state.

“Please child, be reasonable. You are in no condition to travel and your father only wishes for us to be safe.”

It had been months since you had arrived safely in Deep Den, escorted by Ser Sterron and several others, and since that time you had been unfairly put in the dark about what was happening in King’s Landing, your mother considering that any news might endanger your health and the babe’s.

Upon your arrival, you had begged your father to go to the capital and negotiate the release of Aemond, one way or another you had said. But he had dismissed your pleading, stating that he could do nothing while his own troops were still fighting on the side of the Greens, something that would not change any sooner.

The most difficult and important piece of information your parents were holding from you, however, was the plan of the Black Queen to execute the Kinslayer, because each time your husband’s subject was brought up, you either became very angry with sorrow or fell into anguished cries, forcing your parents and brother to be very careful with what they could say around you. 

But from the moment news of Jacaerys Velaryon’s capture came, taken prisoner by Daeron Targaryen, now called ‘the Daring’, your parents could finally relax. They were now strengthened in the conviction that Rhaenyra would not risk Aemond’s life as long as her son would remain hostage.

Your mother was a Black at heart, believing that Visery’s daughter would be merciful on your House once she would rid Westeros from the usurpers, her own family member, Ser Lorrent, part of the Queen’s guard a pride for her.

Your father, however, was more pragmatic. He had taken great care in not spreading the word of your return to Deep Den.The fact that in the past, no Green had even lifted a finger in order to rescue you from the grip of Ulf the White, one of their own allies, was concerning, and he wished for you to remain as far from them as possible from now on. 

But your father was also more sensible to your sadness regarding the father of your child than his own wife, your mother, taking more seriously your pleas about striking a deal for his release. Not being able to help you pained him, hiding information from you as well, but he told himself that it was for your own good, that you had suffered enough.

Instead, he patiently waited for an opportunity, aware of the fact that any attempts on his part to reach Rhaenyra on his own would indirectly label him as a traitor to the Greens and endanger his men as well as his House.

When a raven from Ormund Hightower arrived, your father finally saw that opportunity. The Lord of Oldtown was requesting the return of Ser Sterron as Commander of the Lydden troops as well as their Lord, and for him, it could only mean that the Greens were finding themselves at an impasse, and were sending for all the help they could, and in this case, diplomatic counsel. The Greens’ situation was dire: they had lost most of the battles, had solely one dragon left on their side, Hugh Hammer and Ulf the White having been murdered by a noble group called ‘the Caltrops’ weeks ago, and the only leverage they possessed at the moment was Jacaerys, their only hostage while Aegon’s heirs were still missing. Lord Donnel suspected that his presence was requested by Daeron, Cole and Ormund for something more than simple leadership. So on the morrow, he was gone. Leaving you behind.

“Do not worry,” your mother had continued. “Soon the rightful Queen will be proclaimed as the true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and we will be able to plead our case and prove our loyalty. Your father will make sure of this.”

“Mother, I do not care who sits on the Iron Throne, my only wish is for my family to be safe, and that includes those you call usurpers!”

Your mother’s words often sickened you, and you were unable to hold your tears at this moment, overwhelmed by the feelings of loss that plagued you for months, your pregnancy sensibly not helping.

“Oh my darling…” she took your hand in hers gently. “The Queen will be merciful.”

You snatched away from her grasp before hiding your face in your hands, breath trembling. You knew your mother to be wrong, obviously too quick to forget about Aegon’s assassination and the death of Helaena. The ‘merciful’ Queen would not rest until Lucerys’ death was fully avenged.

However, the more your mother spoke, the more the harsh reality dawned on you: the Greens were losing, and soon, the Blacks would take their place as rulers of the Seven Kingdoms. Nothing then could stop Rhaenyra Targaryen from making an example of your husband, his brother, his nephew and niece, his mother, and Aemond’s offspring. Your child .

Upon your arrival you had cried for weeks as your head filled with dark thoughts of the possibility of ever seeing Aemond again and of your child being taken away from you. But after a while, your own body became numb to the repetitive images you inflicted yourself with, and soon you only felt nothingness, as if someone had puffed out the flame that made you live, leaving you staring into the dark as you gently rubbed your swollen belly.

The pregnancy was tough on you, and everybody inside the castle walls had their doubts on whether or not you would bring this baby into the world or even make it through yourself. Many believed and feared the “Kinslayer curse”, and the rumours that it was inflicted upon you as well was growing wild. The maester kept compelling you to take those awful potions you knew were inefficient because none except you realised that your affliction was beyond the physical, something no medicine could cure.

The only soul inside of the castle that brought you comfort was your brother. Amory, despite being only four and ten, had everything of a young lord, without the arrogance. He loved you and his concern for you, although much better hidden than your mother’s, was expressed through his visits, warm conversations and games he liked to play with you in your good moments, and you were glad that he was here. He did not pity you nor looked at you with these worried eyes you met whenever you left your quarters, and your connection to him was so deep that it felt like you shared your heart with someone again.

Now that your father was gone, he was spending more time with you than before, watching you grimaced each time you drank down those nauseating looking potions. But you could not forget. You could never forget.

It has been days since the chaos had started, and Aemond could not decipher what was happening outside of his barred window, low beneath the ground. But then again, the Prince had no idea if he could still trust his ears.

From his cell deep in the dungeon, he rarely heard anything other than the guards and the clashing of waves, so when chanting emanating from the city reached his ears, he had got up and listened.

But now, as the sun set, he realised that the noise was now coming from the inside, and he clearly heard the door to the dungeon open, followed by footsteps as he narrowed his eye at the dark corridor in the hope to see the intruders. Soon, several men appeared, with only one of them carrying a torch that cast light upon their alert faces, part of their armour visible under their cloaks.

“Your Grace, we must make haste, the guards are gone but they could retreat here at any moment.”

Aemond did not move, studying the face of the man who clumsily tried the lock of his cell as he finally realised why he looked so familiar: it was one of Cole’s men.

“Why? Where are they?” Aemond asked as the door opened.

“Those left are busy protecting the west side, but they could be gone already. Quickly, your Grace.”

A loud commotion from above that made everyone look up prevented Aemond from asking further questions, and soon everyone pressed themselves out of the dungeon with renewed haste.

“Lady Y/N, my mother…” he tried to say over the noise.

“Already outside,” the man answered as he led him through the unusually empty barracks. “The guest wing was closer so we reached her first.”

From there it was easy. No one was there to stop them, no soldier standing guard where they should have been, no servants to sight them, and certainly no nobles strolling the dungeon as they kept their descent in the dark tunnels of the Red Keep and onto the secluded beach at the foot of the ramparts. Aemond could still hear the ruckus above, and he made a guess that whatever was happening, it was certainly bad for Rhaenyra. He rejoiced at the thought but had no time to confirm his suspicions as he was met with the open air for the first time in months, making his eye blink to adjust to the sunlight as he advanced on the beach. Against the setting sun, he could decipher the silhouette of his mother boarding a rowboat with the help of other men, her sight filling him with relief as he looked around, looking for you.

“Where is Y/N?” he asked the man next to him as he struggled not to stumble on the hard sand. The man’s eyes became wide, almost frightened.

“She… she has not been sighted since Bitterbridge, your Grace. Since Vhagar had helped her to get away from the betray-” the man tried, thinking that talking about his precious dragon would somehow soothe the Prince from the absence of his wife.

But it failed as Aemond suddenly stopped in his tracks and violently grabbed the man by the collar, making his muscles ache by the effort but ignoring the pain at the moment as he slowly understood that his swine of an uncle had lied to him all of this time, taunting him.

“Where. Is. My. Wife?”

You had no idea how to take the news.

King’s Landing had been sacked, or something close to it. You knew of the citizens’ exhaustion at the constant restriction and increased taxes due to the war, but you had not expected for an entire army of hungry and angry rebels to stand against the Queen during the Rogue Prince’s absence in protest. You heard that the crowd was so unrelenting, so vindictive that the whole City Watch had been overwhelmed, their numbers already thin due to the enlistment. But the rebels had been organised. One of their groups had taken the precaution to break in the Dragonpit, force the dragonkeepers to bound the Queen’s dragon Syrax before trying to slay the beast. The fools all perished in her flames, but not before they injured the yellowed scaled beast so badly that she would never be able to fly again. You also heard that in the chaos, many dragons had flown away from the Dragonpit at the sudden swarming of the crowd, was there by fear or by command of the dragonkeepers in order to protect them, no one knew for sure.

But more importantly, you heard that Rhaenyra Targaryen had been gravely wounded during the riots. Indeed, once she realised that the rebels would try to weaken her by any means necessary, she had tried to reach her dragon. Whether or not she knew her mount to be in danger is unclear, but the fact remained that she had left the Red Keep after ordering her children to be taken away, heading to the Dragonpit with an escort. But it has not been enough, and in the end, Ser Lorent, your great-cousin, had been the only one remaining at her side able to pull her out of danger following the disastrous event.

Several days later, she had succumbed to her injuries.

It is said that at Daemon Targaryen’s return, it had been a bloodbath. Learning of the death of his wife and the fleeing of his children, he had executed all of the rebels in rage and grief as well as ordering a strict curfew, before calling for a meeting in order to launch a final and long due attack on the Greens, convinced that the riots were their doing. Only his in-laws, the Velaryons and his daughters were left to try to slow him down.

But the news you longed for the most never came. Not a word about Aemond or Alicent, your only comfort found in the fact that if Aemond had still been under Daemon’s watch, he would have executed him immediately upon his return, by pure revenge. That is, if he was not dead already.

Your heart fell in your chest at the very thought and you cursed the fact that you were so far away from King’s Landing, with child and that everything was so slow to reach your ears.

This also ironically seemed to be the perfect moment for your waters to break.

Aemond missed Vhagar dearly, frustrated that he had to ride to Tumbleton instead of flying, but it was nothing next to the anguish he experienced whenever he thought of what might have become of you. Right now the only thing stopping him from leaving to search for you was his mother, her state frail and distraught due to months of captivity worrying him so much that he could not bring himself to abandon her until they reached the safety of the town.

Their little party had been forced to travel low across the King’s Woods, avoiding every main path in order to reach their destination unseen, putting him in a foul mood.

Because Tumbleton was north of Bitterbridge, Aemond had hoped to find traces of Vhagar there, since he had Cole’s men tell him about everything regarding your whereabouts, learning of the way you had been dragged across the Crownlands and held in the late Caswell’s castle under the watch of Ulf the White. Aemond dearly wished that the traitor was still alive so he would have the pleasure to detach his head from his body himself. Your escape had surprised him, wondering who would be bold enough to snatch you from under a dragonrider’s nose, but he already had his suspicion on their identity as he got closer to the camp where his army waited.

And his intuition turned out to be right. Tumbleton was surrounded by a chaotic mass of tents spread across the dry fields and all he had to do was to search for a certain sigil with a silver badger on it, and he would have his answer.

But as he dismounted, he was instantly harassed by maesters who insisted on examining him, claiming that he needed to slowly readapt to normal activities after months of captivity. Annoying him greatly, it only resulted in Aemond lashing out at them, before entrusting his mother to Cole’s care and striding away angrily, ignoring his great-cousin’s greeting, not wishing to waste another second of his time.

It did not take long to find the Lord he was looking for as everybody came to see the Prince Regent's return, eager to see how affected by the Blacks he had been. But Aemond had no care for them, instead walking straight toward two men standing from a distance near one of the tents, a Lord and his knight.

As he levelled with Lord Donnel Lydden and Ser Sterron, the former bowed slightly to greet him, something akin to satisfaction in his eyes.

“Prince Aemond. It is a relief to see you and your mother unharmed and safely returned. I trust that every step of the plan to rescue you has been strictly followed.”

Aemond had no patience to decipher what that meant and went straight to the point.

“Tell me you know where she is.”

Ser Sterron lips curved upwards at his words next to them, unsurprised by the Prince’s direct question. His Lord bore the same expression.

“She is safe. And… rather well, due to the circumstances.”

It took a tremendous effort from Aemond to not let anything appear on his face as immense relief flowed inside him.

“What circumstances?” he asked hastily, watching your father’s condemning expression try to find his answer, hesitant.

“The child she carries had, and still, puts her in danger. I have taken great precautions in order to preserve her from any harm or any soul that would plan to use her in any way. I am sure you understand your Grace, that my intentions are only for her to remain as far as possible from this conflict.”

Aemond felt the blood rush in his ears at the Lord’s words, already irritated by the tiring journey he had suffered.

“You insult me greatly, my Lord, if you believe me incapable of keeping her safe. Are you saying that you intend to have her hidden away from my family? From me?”

Lord Donnel looked briefly ill at ease, his gaze still bravely holding Aemond’s.

“I only ask for your discretion. A lot has happened since your… absence, and as I am sure you know, it is one of your own allies that had my daughter cut out from anyone she knew during months, if not worse,” Lord Lydden’s expression was harder now. “Consequently, if you care for her as much as I do, I would only ask of you to-”

“I would die for her, that’s how much I care. I love her more than anyone ever has.”

His voice had been louder than he had intended,  and in truth he had not intended to speak those words at all, surprising himself. Never has he expressed this to anyone aside from you.

Lord Lydden arched a brow, bemused at the Prince’s outburst, but the ghost of a smile was noticeable on his face.

“I… see,” he discretely glanced at Ser Sterron before turning to Aemond again. “Then we are in agreement. She should not leave Deep Den, not until all of this is over.”

He had said the last piece in a lower tone, wary to not be heard by the people walking past them. Aemond was about to answer that he will be the sole judge of that, but a sudden familiar feeling of electricity coursing through his body prevented him from doing so, making him sharply inhale and take a step back.

He looked at the sky, as if he had spotted something only he could see, but a minute later, what he was looking for-. No, what he was feeling came soaring through the sky, casting its shadow over the town.

Every soul in the camp looked up and pointed fingers in awe as Vhagar circled around them, roaring, before making her descent into the nearby field, making the tents shake in her wake.

Aemond’s heart jolted in bliss, and he could not repress a smile as he politely bowed at Lord Lydden in order to make his leave.

“I will send your regards to your daughter, my Lord.”

At that, he swiftly turned on his heels and headed straight toward his beloved mount, striding across the camp.

As he got nearer, it became impossible to tell which one of the two were the most joyous, as Vhagar heavily extended her head towards him when he approached her, squealing in excitement while Aemond flattened his palm against her hard green scales, feeling their heat and rejoicing at the sensation of their bond being restored at last.

“My girl, I have missed you,” he whispered as she nudged her snout against him.

He felt whole again.

Well, almost.

A/N: Holidays are over, and here we go again. I wanted to thank you for all of your kinds words and support, it means a lot and it's worth being said over and over, you readers are everything. Happy New Year!

-0- Part 25

@let-love-bleeds-red @crazylokonugget@jeyramarie@ephemeralninon@mrswhitethornbelikov@dudfahsn@missusnora@queenofterrasen418@honeytrapsblogp-graham@heathclifftragedyy @discowizard88@ivartheblessed@xceafh@bubbletae7@omgkatherine97@tzipora-art@signyvenetia @ml0103 @nsainmoonchild @lonadane @skythighs@bietchz@samnblack@mariaelizabeth21-blog1@projectcampbell @ripdragonbeans @caribbeangal@polireader@zillahvathek@moni-cah @literishdegree99 @a-beaverhausen @thekinslayer @maniccrystalhippie @princessofdarkwinter @isaxbella749@claudie-080102@ebaylee422@hydrationqueensworld@crumblychunksofheaven@officiallyunofficialperson @grungegrrrl @stargaryenx @dark-night-sky-99

[jojikawa]

𝘋𝘪𝘰 𝘪𝘯 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯 — 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸

art credits • dividers • The Bride of Dio

Maron’s Notes: This takes place AFTER The Bride of Dio (even though it is still on-going as of July 2023) I planned on making a post-JoJo Part 3 Series and this is a snippet of the beginning of it. It doesn’t spoil the events of the current story. You just need to have watched JoJo part 3 to kinda understand what’s going on!

This is where we begin to diverge from the ending of Stardust Crusaders and more into the territory of my own original content with my favorite characters. Thank you for supporting me and I hope you enjoy what I’ve been writing so far.

Started: May 6, 2023 at 3:53 PM

All of his life, Dio Brando, was described to be a demon. His methods, attitude, state-of-mind was reminiscent of the Lucifer himself. In the slums of London, he was once told that “the devil smiles upon him” through the birthmark that could be found upon his ear by a fortune teller. Then again by his associate named Enyaba. His actions for the rest of his life seemed to prove this fortune true. Dio became a menace.

Dio was always self-destructive and acted in self interest. He cared little of who he hurt, as long as he would get what he wanted from whoever he was taking it from. This caused him to ruin every good thing he’s ever earned in his life. The most notable thing being his wife. She was the only person that ever lived with the strength to love a hellspawn like him.

And he knew that.

Dio wanted nothing but to give her the world—in his way. He didn’t want to settle for mundane life with her. It wasn’t enough. He wanted to be a King—A God; her his Goddess. He wanted his beautiful wife to be just like him. He wanted her to be just as ruthless and cold to her subjects and enemies. She would mother his children; any that he gave her. They would all rule the world while his kin were able to take whatever they wanted for themselves.

It didn’t turn out that way…and it was the fault of the Joestars. The JoJo that he failed to kill: Jotaro Kujo, empowered with a stand reminiscent of Jonathan Joestar himself. Dio swore, that in his final moments, he could see Jonathan’s face of disappointment within Jotaro. The only thing he could think was that he should’ve killed Erina too.

But what of you, his wife? Well, Dio didn’t know. He didn’t know if he’d ever see you again. You most likely didn’t want to. Now, that he has learned that there is indeed an afterlife, he assumed you’d be in Heaven. Your crimes compared to his were mere child’s play. Any sims you committed could easily be forgiven. The two of you had been separated for some time. He didn’t think the day would come where he would see the end of his suffering…

…but it did.

Dio Brando atoned for all the sins he committed in his lifetime and was now allowed to go to Heaven. The Devil wasn’t as kind to Dio as he had been gaslit to think his whole life, no, he was treated the exact same. (If not, worse.) Perhaps, Heaven prove to be sweeter to him.

From the pits of Hell, Dio was rescued by an Angel that brought him to safety. He wasn’t able to see his Savior until the blood red sky he was so familiar with turned into one of baby blue. The Angel was abnormally big, being of blond hair and olive skin just like him. They were male presenting with enormous wings and a spotless white robe, carrying Dio as if he were a sack of potatoes. The two of them reached Heaven’s entrance where he was then thrown to the ground.

“Stand, worm.” The Angel’s voice was deep as it rumbled the ground. Dio, on his hands and knees, could only take in the scenery around him. It was beautiful. The sky burned his eyes before they were adjusted to the sudden change. Around him were clouds that you could stand on, white marble pillars and structures. This was Heaven?

Suddenly, an anger filled Dio that not even the seven Hells could contain. His ego was too strong to be humbled by Hell itself. His eyes narrowed at the Angel, his nose scrunching up in disgust as he jumped to his feet. He wore clothes that were torn, tattered and he was barefoot as well. Hell sure didn’t care about your quality of life.

“Worm!?” Dio repeated. He approached the Angel before him, not at all caring about how less intimidating he looked compared to this supreme being before him. “How dare you!?” He grabbed a fist of the Angel’s garbs. He pulled him closer as he screamed in his face. “Do you know who I am!? I am—“

Dio was struck across the face, once again being leveled with the ground. The man had only been hit a few times within his life but this was like no other.

“You are a worm. You are a sinner. The only reason why I have brought you here is through the request of another.” The Angel spoke through his clenched jaw, voice laced with venom and hatred for the mortal before him.

‘…request of another���?’

“Now, go before I change my mind and drop you back down there.” The Angel shoo’d Dio away, gesturing towards Heaven’s gates in front of him. They were marvelous and just the way they had been imagined in various medias in the world of the living.

With much uncertainty, Dio climbed to his feet and made his way through the gates. He suddenly felt more at ease, the same way one would after putting on nice clean clothes after a shower. Looking down at himself, he saw that his clothes were no longer shredded rags. They were now reminiscent of the things he wore as a young man. A white dress shirt and beige colored bottoms. It was definitely his style as he was unable to let go of the Victorian style fashion that he grew up in.

There was no one else around him and no directions. He would only put together that he needed to keep walking forward; and he did. Dio didn’t cover a lot of distance before he heard faint voices talking. He wasn’t able to tell what any of them were saying until he got closer.

“Calm down, child. You mustn’t worry yourself with such trivial things. I’ve already sent Azriel.” A feminine voice, one that sounded of a mother; a tone that anyone could recognize. “But you told me that he would arrive today!” The second voice was also feminine extremely familiar. Dio could recognize that whining anywhere!

Then he heard a male sigh. “Angela’s right, (y/n). You don’t need to be upsetting yourself. We don’t know when—“ the man then gasped. “There he is! Dio!”

It was you and…Jonathan.

“Dio!?” You perked up, looking to your far left to see it was none other than your husband. A well of emotions bubbled inside of you once you saw him. You gasped as well, running over to him for a sweet embrace. Dio looked extremely confused, hesitant to wrap his arms around you.

“This isn’t an illusion…?” Dio rested his chin upon your head, feeling your warmth once again. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course not, Dio!” You pulled away, holding his hands and intertwining your fingers. “I missed you so much.”

Dio’s eyes widened. You missed him?

Hi, again! This is just a tidbit for now. I kinda work ahead whenever I get stuck. I wish we got more Dio content in JJBA so I had more events to insert the reader into. Coming up with original content and scenarios is hard 🗿

[gurugirl]

The Queen's Secret | Ch 14

Summary: The fallout from the scene Harry made is expected but Rory has an idea that's not expected. Harry is no longer living a lie.

Warning: Angst

TQS Masterlist

“What now my prince?”

The Queen hoped that Harry had come to the castle with a plan. That he had set up a rescue cushion outside of the window so they could both jump out, hand-in-hand, and then run off through the gates to Harry’s car waiting just outside of the wall for a quick getaway. But she knew that he hadn’t thought this through. The man before her was damaged and desperate. Had she made him this way?

“I just love you and I haven’t seen you for months. I needed to see you,” He leaned his forehead to hers, “I needed to see this,” he moved his hands to her growing bump, “and be close to you for a moment. Even if it means I lose everything.”

Y/n grabbed Harry’s biceps and stepped back so she could get a better look at the man, “You can’t say things like that. If you lose everything, I’m going with you. I’m still here. My heart is still yours. But if you plan to do something so reckless as this then you need to think it through. A strategy first. Where’s your car?”

Harry sighed. He didn’t move his eyes from the Queen. He wanted to take all of her in for as long as possible. He hadn’t seen her belly like this. Her cheeks were fuller as well. He loved every little part of her and seeing the Queen with his child growing inside of her made him delirious. He knew he needed to use his brain and formulate some kind of plan but he thought he would suffocate and die if he didn’t see her that very morning. He didn’t care about the fallout.

“I drove it past the gates. The guards chased me. It’s at the front. I don’t know if I turned it off even,” he laughed at his own ridiculousness. He was ridiculous. He had lost his damn mind.

The Queen slid her hands from his arms back around his body and brought him in close again, “Oh, Harry. This isn’t good. I’m going down there with you to make sure they let you leave in peace. But from now on, before you do something so drastic, call me and we’ll think of something together. No matter where I am, I’m always yours. Don’t ever doubt it.”

The Queen and the Prince walked together, with guards behind them, toward the front where Harry’s car was haphazardly parked. The keys were still in the ignition and he had, in fact, left it running, but it was turned off by a guard after he escaped two men and ran into the castle. The Queen still couldn’t believe he’d gotten past the gates and then through the doors and all the way up to her chambers with guards trying to stop him the whole way. Harry was strong, sure, but enough to fend off multiple guards? It kind of made her feel woozy inside and if it were possible, love him that much more.

The King stood at the steps and watched as his wife made sure the path was clear for his brother-in-law so he could leave. He didn’t like when he saw Harry abruptly turn back toward the Queen before getting into his car and leaning down to kiss the top of her belly and then take her face in his hands and kiss her lips. In front of everyone.

He stepped down from his spot and began to feel anger seethe out of his body. Some people saw this display and now the King would need to do some damage control. He’d deal with Harry’s consequences later, a meeting would be called to determine his fate in Manon. The Queen would be given a talking to, but with her being pregnant and so close to having the child he knew the public wouldn’t like it if she was suddenly banished from the Kingdom. They’d surely side with the Prince and the Queen if he excommunicated her.

Harry was free to leave the grounds but now he was sure he’d be expelled and he’d never get to see his children again. He didn’t know what happened that caused him to finally snap. He’d been slowly losing his grip, though. It was only a matter of time. Even Gertrude saw it. Harry hadn’t cut his hair or shaved his face. He didn’t shower every day anymore and he certainly no longer cared that she knew about his feelings for the Queen.

But she didn’t want to tell on him. She wanted her children to have a father and Harry was such a good father. At one time. She hoped that he’d pull himself together but he only got worse as the weeks progressed. She blamed herself partly so she kept his declining mental state a secret from Edgar. When he ran out that morning she knew what he was doing. She also knew what it would mean for him. For her and the children. They’d lose their father. The kingdom would know her husband, the Prince, had lost his mind and fallen in love with the Queen. And she couldn’t stop it. She tried desperately to control it. To hide the secret. To keep Harry safe and their family intact.

“What was that Y/n?” The King was red in the face and fuming with anger. She could almost see steam traveling up from his forehead and out of his nostrils.

“Edgar, I didn’t know he was going to do that. But Harry is a soft-hearted man. He’s emotional and…”

“YES! He is. And he’s a fool if he thinks he will be allowed to ever see you again. This evening I’ve called advisors and a committee group in and there will be a meeting to determine what to do going forward. I will have to send you away in secret to have the baby. But before you leave, you’ll make a public statement to clear up our end of this mess. I’ve already got most of the details worked out, but for your safety, I cannot tell you what that is just yet.”

The Queen stood from her seat and paced the room, “No. You will not send me away. Edgar, I’m not some pushover. You cannot treat me like I’m not the Queen!”

It didn’t matter. Edgar had already made arrangements. Things worked fast in the kingdom because they had to. Many people already knew about the Prince and what he’d done. And there were even photos of him kissing the Queen. Many people were calling it a tragic love story, like Romeo and Juliet. Lovers unable to be together because of their circumstances. Others made up wild stories about what was happening, some got it right.

The Queen is pregnant with Prince Harry’s baby! The heir is not King Edgar’s!

A love story for the ages…

The young Queen was duped into marriage with the old King and this is the result.

Unhinged Prince Harry barges into the castle and tries to kidnap the Queen!

Article after article spilled into the local headlines on social media and in the paper the very next morning.

The Queen had largely been left in the dark. The meeting with the King’s advisors came and went. She had no idea what they’d decided for Harry or her. And to top it all off, her phone had mysteriously vanished. She would have no easy way to contact Harry.

Her aids packed her things and Rory was to go with her, to wherever she was being sent off. She’d been given a script of what to say before leaving but she’d yet to read the thing. She didn’t want to lie. She didn’t want to do anything to hurt Harry further.

With her bags stuffed into the SUV at the front of the castle and reporters waiting for a statement from the Queen, Rory tried to do her best to comfort her.

“I’ll be with you the whole time. I know this isn’t easy. We’ll figure something out…” Rory was the best advisor the Queen could ever ask for and the most wonderful friend a girl could have.

When a knock came on her door to indicate it was time to go the Queen wiped her tears and took a breath, “I supposed I should see what they want me to say.”

She lifted the paper to read the statement that had been written for her.

Thank you for all of the support and kind comments. The King and I are at a loss for words right now, but I want to take a moment to ease any fears or concerns about this debacle.

First, the child is very healthy and the King and I are so excited to welcome her very soon. Her father is elated to meet her as am I.

Second, what you saw yesterday morning was the result of a man with a troubled mental state. We did not know about this before and we did our best to extinguish the matter before it became out of hand.

Third, and last, this means that I will need to leave for a while. The King fears for my safety and the safety of our child during this time.

When I return, the gates to the castle will be reinforced, ready for anything that may come, and the King and I will welcome our child to Manon.

The Queen scoffed as she read the letter out loud and Rory rolled her eyes, “What will you do?”

Y/n raised her brows and lifted the sheet of paper, tearing it from the top to the bottom, and dropped it to the floor, “I will not say that. Harry is too sweet and good for me to do that to him. I’d prefer just telling everyone the full truth to that mess of lies.”

When the Queen, King, and Rory arrived at the front doors there were only a handful of reporters ready. They had been selected to come to get the Queen’s statement.

“Ready, my Queen?” Edgar looked at Y/n as he spoke.

The Queen nodded and waved at the people and the reporters as the King stood straight and kept her hand in his, “The Queen would like to make a statement.”

Y/n looked at Edgar and smiled calmly before turning back to the people waiting to hear what she would say, “Thank you everyone for your concern,” she spoke clearly as the reporters recorded her statement, and everyone around hushed so they could hear.

“I’m doing perfectly fine. I will be sent away to have my child in peace, but soon, when I return, you’ll all finally get to meet her. I am thankful for everyone and,” the Queen paused when she felt Edgar’s hand crushing hers. She was going off script and this was his warning, but it only fueled her, “…there is nothing to worry about. I won’t comment on what everyone wants to hear because that is a private matter and the Prince isn’t here to defend himself or make his statement. I will only tell you that he meant no harm and his intentions were good.” She swallowed at the feeling of her fingers being squeezed in Edgar’s hand, “Now, if you will…” she stepped down toward the packed vehicle waiting as she waved and smiled, “See you all very soon!”

The King followed her, not releasing her hand from his, “What are you doing? You’re ruining this! Do you want the same fate as Harry?” The King's words were hushed, whispered into her ear so not even Rory could hear.

The Queen jerked her face toward Edgar and furrowed her brows, “And what is his fate, Edgar? What did you decide to do with him?”

Edgar let go of Y/n’s hand and he tried not to let his anger show to the public. It was an embarrassment.

Soon, the Queen and Rory were being driven past the castle walls and away from Manon to a location the Queen didn’t even know herself.

The fallout from her statement could be devastating, or perhaps it would be twisted and misquoted. It was likely that the royal press would only print what Edgar wanted to be printed. But she said what she said and she could only hope that if Harry were to read her words he’d see that she was protecting him. She hoped her words wouldn’t be misconstrued and taken out of context and give him the wrong impression if he did happen to hear of it. She knew it was likely that her words wouldn’t be heard or read verbatim by the public.

The undisclosed location was three hours North of Manon. No one could know of her whereabouts. Not even her family. The royal court decided it would be best for her if no one knew, including herself.

She was given access to a landline phone and internet privileges were limited and heavily monitored. Rory was with her but so were two guards and one of Edgar’s advisors to keep watch on the Queen and report back to the King.

This meant Y/n had no way of reaching out to Harry.

The estate Y/n was sent to was gorgeous. It was no castle, but it was large and set in the middle of a wooded area. Paparazzi were unlikely to find them.

“What of Harry? Have you heard anything?” The Queen asked her advisor as she unpacked her things into the room that would be hers for the next five months.

“I’ve only heard he was sent away. I know nothing more,” Rory gave the Queen a weak smile and helped her put her things away.

The Queen felt like she could collapse. Not only was she exhausted mentally and physically, but her heart was also aching for her Prince. She didn’t want him to lose anything but he’d risked so much by going to see her that morning. She didn’t know if his fate was sealed or if they’d gone easy on him.

After a few days of settling into her new estate, Y/n found that she was given plenty of space and free time. She was worried that she’d be followed and every move documented but that wasn’t the case. She sat in the back garden and read most afternoons. She wrote in her journal the things she’d tell the Prince if she could see him.

Solitude was a wonderful thing, but the Queen began to feel a different kind of lonesome. She had Rory and was able to call her mother and sister but lack of contact with Harry was ripping her soul in two. The not knowing. The wondering how he was doing. How was his soft heart dealing with the fallout? That was the hardest part. Was he okay? Was he sad about what he’d read? Did he believe the things he was told? Would he be permitted to see his children? Where was he? Did he miss her?

Harry was dealing with his own issues at the same time the Queen was being carted off. Due to the likelihood that he would spill their secrets, and at Gertrude’s insistence, Edgar’s punishment for Harry was not as severe as the King wanted it to be. Harry would be expelled from the kingdom but he would still have access to his children on a schedule (all thanks to Gertrude). And because Harry was likely going to talk they didn’t cut him off financially as part of the deal. Not completely. Harry would need to find work at some point but he was offered a small home an hour away from Manon that would be paid for by the royal coffer.

Harry was warned to stay away from Y/n, though. That he would never be allowed near her and that she was in hiding. He was told she was scared and had requested to be moved to a different location so he couldn’t find her, but he knew that wasn’t the case. The news he read, the statement she made, everything was made up. Harry could be sensitive and reactionary, but he knew his Queen would never say the things that she had supposedly said.

It took a few days to get everything ready for him to leave and for Gertrude to get the kids in line for their father’s departure, but it wasn’t a happy occasion for anyone. The royal press stood near their home, waiting to snap photos of Harry driving away, and hoping to get some kind of statement from him or from Gertrude.

Harry apologized to Gertrude over and over again, but he admitted to no longer loving her. He couldn’t deny what he felt any longer. But he hated that the kids were being affected by his weak character. As much as he hated the situation, he was glad he could still see his children every month and that he was no longer living a lie.

With his car loaded he could see the paparazzi at the gates in the street, waiting for him. He was tempted to tell them everything, but if he did that, he’d surely lose all rights to see his kids. He’d already put too much at risk.

Gertrude and the children stood at the front of the house and watched as Harry drove away and past the gates. The bright bursts of light from the cameras pointed at him as he drove off were obnoxious but Harry felt free finally. He rolled his window down and waved as he turned into the street and left his home in Manon behind.

Rory had no information to give and the Queen eventually did see the press photos shared of Harry driving away from his home in Manon and waving. She smiled when she saw the pictures and it made her heart swell. He waved. She wondered how he was doing. How he was faring on his own. What his circumstances were.

“Ladies,” one of the guards spoke. Y/n looked up from her writing and Rory sat up straight and put her laptop down.

“The cook is sick and we’ve had to send her back to the castle. She may not return. We will be having food delivered for the next couple of days until we can get someone else in who can take over. I just wanted to let you know,” he lowered his head and then turned back toward the doors.

Rory looked over at the Queen with a look that Y/n knew as mischievous crossed her face, the small grin over Rory’s features meant she had some kind of idea.

“What is it?” Y/n asked quietly with a smile set to her face. She loved Rory’s mind.

Rory looked back toward the house and then got up from her spot to sit next to the Queen.

The smile on her face didn’t falter, ‘Well, if we have to have deliveries then that means we have to allow people into the estate. I wonder if I can’t somehow sneak a certain someone in under the guise of a delivery being made.”

Y/n squinted her eyes and pursed her lips to the side. She understood Rory fully. But she wasn’t sure how it could ever work, “Tell me more.”

“I may be able to find out where he is and get a contact for him. I dated the communications secretary to the royal press a few years back. He and I ended things on good terms and have seen each other a few times since. I bet they know where he is. I could just…” she lifted her cell phone and rocked it side to side, “give him a call and see? No harm, right? He wouldn’t tell anyone I was looking.”

Y/n swallowed and blinked as she looked around to make sure no one was privy to their conversation, “Yes!” She whispered excitedly, “Please do!”

Rory and the Queen both went deeper into the garden away from the guard who was standing near the back door.

A text was sent off to William and while they waited, the pair discussed the different possibilities of getting Harry into the compound.

“But there’s no way they’d let him in. They’d see him and at once, turn him away. It’s impossible,” the Queen spoke in a whisper. Her heart was pounding as they spoke about the idea that it could be possible to at least have contact with him. She doubted it would be possible to sneak him into the estate but to even be able to have communication with him made her body buzz and the anticipation was making her feel lightheaded.

“I might be able to think of something. Don’t doubt it just yet,” Rory spoke with a smile. “We have contacts everywhere. And William is one of the best resources for this sort of thing.”

The Queen normally took a late afternoon nap but on that day she was too excited and her nerves were keeping her awake. She paced her room and chewed her nails (which she knew was a terrible habit but she couldn’t help it). Y/n tried to calm herself, to sit down near the window and read, or to watch a movie or something on television but she couldn’t focus on anything except hearing back from William and learning of Harry’s whereabouts and perhaps getting his contact information.

She finally found herself leaving her room to walk around the house. It was a large house with seven bedrooms (one was kept as an office), a library, two kitchens (one for the help), two living spaces, an indoor terrace that overlooked the back of the property, a formal dining room, and a safe room for emergencies. The property also had a staff house with bedrooms, bathrooms, and kitchen space for their own needs during their breaks and in the evening.

The library was well stocked but it was not as beautiful and grand as the library in the castle, though, Y/n actually liked the estate library better. Maybe because she was away from the King and all that royal staff. There was a staff at the estate with her but it was different. This felt like a strange retreat in a way. Despite her unfortunate circumstances.

“Queen, Y/n…” Rory whispered and Y/n turned to see her friend waving for her to come. Y/n followed behind Rory into her bedroom and closed the door behind them.

Y/n watched Rory in anticipation. She had an update it seemed. Rory pulled her laptop onto her bed and opened it up before turning to look at the Queen, “We know where he is.”

The Queen sat down immediately. She was in no state to take big news standing up. Her breath deepened as she watched Rory pace next to the bed, “But reaching him may be difficult. However, William is going to send someone to him. To see if he’ll talk. Maybe even bring him here.”

“And how will they get here? How will he get in?” The Queen looked at the laptop as Rory sat down and pulled it into her lap.

“The person he’s sending knows the King’s advisor who is here with us so he can find out where we are and send in staff or deliveries. He may be able to recommend a delivery service to the advisor and Harry might be able to ride along, but he’d potentially be hidden or disguised even. We don’t know yet,” Rory typed something into her laptop as the Queen watched on, “We first need to make contact to make sure he’s able to come. If he wants to come.”

The Queen smiled, “Of course, he’ll want to. But I’m worried he won’t be able to. Or that he’ll be caught. What else do we know?”

Rory turned her laptop to show Y/n a map. She scrolled into a location and tapped the screen, “He’s here. The paps followed him to his location so they know where he is and they’ve seen him and his vehicle at the home here.”

The estate they were in had disabled location services and wifi was limited so no one that was in the estate (other than the King’s advisor) really knew exactly where they were. But Harry’s location didn’t need to be kept so private.

Y/n leaned in to look at the map on the screen and felt her heart glow and burn. Was it possible to be able to see him after all? Would a plan be made for them? Could this really happen? The Queen had a million questions in her mind as she stared at the screen.

“The person being sent, his name is Scott. It’s happening today. Scott will let William know what he finds out. So, we wait. We should learn something in the next couple of hours.”

To say that the Queen was anxious and uncomfortable for the following two hours was an understatement. Her legs were sore from all the pacing and her low back was aching from the weight of her growing tummy.

“You’re sure that William and Scott won’t tell the royal court a thing? I don’t want Harry in more trouble than he is.”

Rory had repeatedly assured Y/n that William was trustworthy and while she didn’t know Scott, William promised that Scott would have no reason to say anything. The Queen had her doubts. She trusted very few people with their secrets.

Two hours had come and gone. Y/n was beside herself. Rory stayed with her and encouraged her to eat dinner when the time came but she only wanted to hear from Harry, to know how he was. If he was okay or if it was possible to see him at all. She just wanted to hear his voice or at the very least have an update about him, a message from him to her.

“Please. Will you call William back?” Y/n spoke quietly to Rory.

Rory looked up from the book she was reading and smiled at her friend, “Y/n… there was no real set time frame for this. I thought a couple of hours would be sufficient, but I guess I was wrong. I will call William if we don’t hear back before we go to bed tonight. I don’t want to sever the only link we have to Harry by being annoying. He’ll reach out when he knows something.”

The Queen knew Rory was right but her patience was coming to halt. She got up and paced around the library and then walked into the kitchen to get water. It was all she could do to keep herself distracted and busy. But she wasn’t distracted, not truly. She was just doing random things that could make the time pass. But time slid by slowly. Painfully so.

Harry had been nodding in and out of sleep when he heard a knock at his door. The house he was in was a small two-bedroom house in a neighborhood that felt very much like the place he grew up in when he was young. He sat up on his couch and rubbed the sleep from his eyes and felt dizzy. He had not been sleeping well. His sleep happened at random moments of exhaustion where he’d close his eyes and nap for an hour at a time. But each time he woke his heart was crushed by his reality.

He slowly got up from the couch and steadied himself, feeling the daze of sleep falling away from his limbs as he trudged toward the front door. He looked out the window to check and realized it was an old friend of his. Scott.

He cleared his throat as he unlocked the door to his bungalow and opened it to see his old friend with a big smile.

Harry welcomed the man into his new place of residence. He couldn’t imagine calling it his home just yet. They sat at his small kitchen table and drank tea. But Harry was reeling at the visit when Scott told him the reason for his arrival.

“Would you be willing to be snuck into the estate? It could land you in more trouble but it might be worth it to you.”

Harry told Scott everything. From the truth of Edgar’s fertility to the fact that the child Y/n was carrying was his own. And yes, to Harry, it would be worth it to see his Queen.

When Scott explained to Harry how the Queen had requested this his flat emotions and sadness were all but dissolved. This was exactly what he needed.

The plan was simple but wasn’t without risks. Scott was in close communication with the King’s advisor who was with Y/n. He would set up service for delivery and they’d have Harry dressed in a delivery uniform in the back to help unload the items to the kitchen staff. No one should think much of it since the recommendation would come from Scott. But, Scott warned Harry that he would not take responsibility if he were to get caught. That he’d be on his own.

“I’m in. Tell me what you need me to do. Where to be. I’ll do anything.”

Harry was lucky that Scott trusted and liked him or this opportunity would have never been an option in the first place. Scott was taking a risk himself in doing this. Even if he denied knowledge of Harry being in the delivery van it would look suspicious and Scott would certainly be questioned.

Just as the house was growing quiet as the staff called it an evening, Rory walked up to the Queen with a smile on her face, her bottom lip bit into her mouth and she held up her phone to let Y/n see the message from William.

From William: Scott and Harry have known one another for many years and so he apologizes for the delay as they had much to catch up on.

From William: Scott will hire a shopper for groceries to be delivered tomorrow. He’s already in contact with the advisor to arrange it. Expect to be ready for instructions on getting Harry onto the premises. More to come.

Part 15*

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[sweetteaanddragons]

Hi

Huge fan of your writing here. I was wondering if you had any ideas for a sequel to your ‘A Question of Precedence’ AU. No need to answer if you dont feel like just my imagination running wild lol but i was curious about how Feanor meeting Fingolfin, Finarfin, Lalwen and their wives and kids would go down. I imagine it would be strange to meet you brother who died as an infant (something which caused your father a lot of trauma and grief) as an adult with a wife and kid. What was their opinion on Feanor before Finwe was slain and Feanor reborn. Did they ever feel like their father loved them less?Would Feanor + siblings get along better in this AU or just about the same ? What was it like for Finwe to die and meet his son and ex wife only for them to leave to live with Vaire ? What was it like for Findis to raise her famously chaotic brother? Are they close? What’s it like for Indis to lose her husband and have his dead child brought back in his stead and then have said child raised to be king a title which previously belonged to her children. What would the relationship be between the sons of Feanor and their cousins ? how is Feanor viewed by those that stayed in Valinor and those that left especially after he chose to aid his kin in Beleriand.

This got a bit longer than intended so again no need at all to answer i just love your writing ❤️💕

Thank you so much! It took me a minute to remember that AU - it's been a while!

(For those who also don't remember, this was my AU in which Feanor died as an infant when Miriel did. All of his half-siblings except Findis still end up going to fight in Beleriand; Findis stays and ends up raising him when Feanor is released from the Halls. Feanor, for his part, ends up leading the reinforcements to Middle Earth.)

I think meeting Feanor is definitely strange for the siblings that went to Middle Earth, especially because of the circumstances. They are used to thinking of him as a Tragedy™, not a full grown force of nature riding to the rescue.

I do think they'd get along better in this AU; a Feanor raised reasonably well by Findis is not going to be raised to resent his siblings, and the attachment to his father that he was so afraid of the others usurping is going to look very different here. He also isn't worried about competing with the others for the crown; Findis raises him to know that it's his as soon as he's old enough, and the others aren't there to fight for it.

His relationship to Indis is still complicated, I think; she knows Finwe chose to remain dead in order to give him a chance to return, and part of her does resent that, but on the other hand, she's ashamed of resenting a baby for anything, especially that. The issues between her and Findis regarding Indis's perceived abandonment might actually cause as many issues between Feanor and her as the remarriage does.

For a long time, Feanor's sons have no relationship with their cousins, for obvious reasons. This changes with Fingon's resurrection; they are very, very eager to get to know him, and he is very, very eager to encourage them to go fight in Beleriand . . . though he feels a bit guilty about that. Whatever their actual ages, he can't help thinking they're too young to be dragged into this.

Once they get to Beleriand, their surviving cousins have an interesting mix of "Reinforcements! I love you!" and . . . possibly some resentment? Because they've been fighting this war all this time, and here their younger cousins come sweeping in, all shining and golden from Valinor to win the day without the centuries of hopeless warfare. Once they get to know them, some of those relationships improve.

(Some get worse.)

In general, the Noldor in Beleriand see Feanor as a hero and a particularly shining symbol of hope - if even Finwe's long lost son has returned, surely all darkness can be overcome! The ones in Valinor see him as less of a symbol, but he is still their respected king (though there might have been some dissent about showing up as reinforcements.)

[lya-dustin]

🩹 tending to each other's wounds - whomever you’d like!

Thanks 💙

So this inspired a prequel of sorts to Potiphar's wife

Temptation

Aethelred I of Wessex x fem!spanish princess!reader

“Do you speak our tongue?” the wounded young king asked you and you shook your head. You understood more than you spoke, but when your return home hinges on the gracious nature of Aethelred of Wessex you know better than to try your luck.

“Latin at least?” this you responded with a nod and with words.

“I would be a terrible daughter and even worse Christian if I did not, your grace.” You say as you begin cleaning the wounds he’d sustained fighting off the men who’d raided your father’s kingdom and made a slave out of you.

You were spared the indignity of rape or harsh labor after convincing them to give you to their lord on account of your nobility. But slavery is still slavery, and the daughter of Ramiro of Asturias was meant to be more than the whore of some Viking scum.

Or even the King of the Saxons.

No lady in Europe wanted to be the next Judith of Flanders either. Poor Judith passed on to father and son before she had even had her first blood and if that hadn’t been humiliating enough, forced to sell her things because either the king here before you or his late elder brother was too miserly to send her home properly.

“What is your name?” Aethelred asks, inspecting the bruises your manacles and the collar on your neck had left on you. You had been thrashing like a fiend, screaming until the Kentish nun enslaved with you translated your words.

“Y/N, daughter of King Ramiro and Paterna of Castilla, Princess of Asturias.” You wait for him to look impressed.

He looked at you with suspicion, many would claim nobility to swindle their saviors. Many a slave girl had claimed to be daughters of ealdormen in hopes of being left untouched.

But he doesn’t stop you from tending to him. Even better, he takes the soothing salve from the stand next to him and gently applies it to your neck when you finish.

“I would ask how you came to be here, but I already know about the raid in Castille. Your brother will be told of your rescue, until a ransom is agreed on, you will be my guest in Winchester.” The fingers on your wrists tell you he intends to do more than just ransom you to Orduño.

If his wife were to find herself divorced and sent to a nunnery within the month of your arrival, your ransom will become your dowry and you would only return home as an impoverished widow.

And sure your hand is worth a kingdom, but the men of Wessex fear a woman with power so much that these past kings scandalized them by giving their wives the title of queen.

“I will not become the next Judith of Flanders, the continent still talks about how terrible the Saxons were to her.” You say hoping to kill whatever idea he has about you.

Not that it would matter, your capture already put in doubt your virtue and whatever the king says is law anyways.

Although Aethelred is somewhat handsome and neither an old man nor a child, and Y/N Regina does have a nice ring to it, now that you think about it.

“That was Aethelberht, not I. Judith was like a younger sister to me.” He corrects you and began rubbing the salve on your neck.

It feels damnably good, you feel your face warm up at the feel of his calloused hands being so gentle on you.

“Besides, if I were to wed you, you would return to your brother a widow with several children or at least one in your belly, god willing.” The king adds tilting your face up to force you into looking at him in the eye.

You want to look away, feeling embarrassed at how a somewhat innocuous touch and his certainty at his own words had you tongue tied.

“You have a wife.” You say, not sure if you meant it as a way to stop him from going further or yourself.

“Had a wife, Wulfthyrth died with my eldest son of a plague months ago.” His voice remains steady and releases you now that the mood was ruined.

“I am sorry for your loss.�� You should take your leave, and yet you stay. He didn’t sound much in love with her, more sad at his sons death.

Besides with only one son, he would be in need of more and while you may not be a descendant of Charlemagne, you are in the flower of womanhood and have a king for a brother.

God, what are you thinking?

This is the land of the Saxons, everything paved with mud and shit just as Judith had said when you served in her court.

And yet when you arrive in Winchester wearing cleaner and better clothes than what Aethelred found you in, you wonder if Judith was exaggerating.

It was nothing compared to your home country, but it had a hardy charm to it.

Perhaps being queen of the Saxons may be better than being handed off to some lord your brother will sell you to. Even better, the Witan chooses the next king not the order of birth, considering how your brother and father repelled the vikings they would be fools not to cast their lot with you.

The moment you are given time to write to Orduño, you make sure to hint at a match between you and Aethelred, and sure enough, it is not a ransom that arrives with your brother, it is your dowry.

A/N: when Alfred and Aethelred were 9 and 8 respectively, their dad, Aethelwulf took them to Rome, accidentally caused a civil war between his elder sons, Aethlstan of Kent and Aethelbald of Wessex, and married Judith of Flanders who was the 12 year old daughter of Charles the Bald and descendant of Charlemagne.

Judith was then widowed, married off to Aethelbald then widowed again and then forced to sell her things to get a ship back to Flanders where she married Baldwin I, Margave of Flanders.

Divorce was pretty common in this dynasty and irl Uhtred and Edward teh Elder would force their wives to take holy vows so they could divorce them and marry other women(and rinse and repeat)

Aethelred also had two sons who irl had been infants when Alfred was king. Here, Aethehelm died of the plague with the wife Aethelred didn’t particularly love.

[saras-devotionals]

Quiet Time 3/30

What am I feeling today?

Kinda frustrated and annoyed. There’s this guy and I want to lose feelings for him. I just don’t think anything could ever happen between us so for my sake and sanity I need to move on. But every time I think I’m fine, I see him again, and all the feelings come rushing back and it’s so frustrating! Anyways, I’m just feeling this way because I briefly saw him last night and then I dreamt about him and it brought back memories that I’m trying to put out of my mind because I just can’t take it anymore. I wish to be free of him.

Luke 14 NIV

(v. 3-5) “Jesus asked the Pharisees and experts in the law, “Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath or not?” But they remained silent. So taking hold of the man, he healed him and sent him on his way. Then he asked them, “If one of you has a child or an ox that falls into a well on the Sabbath day, will you not immediately pull it out?””

There’s not much to add to this other than it was kind of Jesus to heal on the Sabbath and tried to show how it would be similar to saving someone or something you love. You wouldn’t just let them suffer for another day but you would immediately try and rescue them!

(v. 11) “For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.””

Jesús used the parable of a wedding before he said this. That if you are a guest, you wouldn’t take the place of honor (like bridesmaids) otherwise you’d be escorted and embarrassed. And if you take the lowest place, the host will bring you up and take you to a better spot. All in all, it’s to support his point right here. We should not value ourselves so much higher than we are because we’ll be humbled. Rather if we already humble ourselves, we will eventually be exalted.

(v. 13-14) “But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.””

This applies to us now in who to love and care for. We should constantly be aware of the fact that there are people in need, people less fortunate than ourselves. It should be put on our hearts to care for them, to offer what we have, because we’re all human at the end of the day. Our lives are not more valuable than theirs.

(v. 26-27) ““If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple. And whoever does not carry their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.”

This verse does not actually mean that we should hate our family or ourselves (we need to love them and us!). But instead, our love for Jesus should be far, far greater! Our love for Jesus should be so evident that all our other relationships appear as hate because of how great our love is for Jesus. Also, as disciples, we all need to deny ourselves and carry our cross daily!

(v. 28-33) ““Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Won’t you first sit down and estimate the cost to see if you have enough money to complete it? For if you lay the foundation and are not able to finish it, everyone who sees it will ridicule you, saying, ‘This person began to build and wasn’t able to finish.’ “Or suppose a king is about to go to war against another king. Won’t he first sit down and consider whether he is able with ten thousand men to oppose the one coming against him with twenty thousand? If he is not able, he will send a delegation while the other is still a long way off and will ask for terms of peace. In the same way, those of you who do not give up everything you have cannot be my disciples.”

This scripture goes over what it’s like to count the cost of being a disciple. Before you become a Christian, you have to see whether you can be. Are you willing to commit the rest of your life to Christ? Are you willing to keep his commands every single day? Will you preach the word and evangelize? fulfilling the great commission because that’s what all his disciples are called to do, not just the ministry? there’s a lot you need to consider and if you’re not willing to give it all up for Christ, you can’t be his disciple, he says so himself.

[gerec]

Hi! Do you have recommendations for fics in which Charles is older than Erik？Extra kudos for Bottom!Charles

Thank you in advance, and thank you for all the amazing cherik fics esp the hooot porns :-))

Hi Anon! Sorry for the delay it's been a little crazy this week :D

I think the combination of older/bottom!Charles might be this fandom's unicorn lol. BUT these are all amazing fics with older Charles that I hope you enjoy!

Give me your stars to hold by pearl_o

Charles returns home from college and figures out why Erik has been so distant since he’s been away.

Counting Bodies like Sheep (To the Rhythm of War Drums) by cm (mumblemutter)

Erik was born broken, their father always told Charles.

Wind and Words by velvetcadence

Lord Charles of House Xavier has been out-manipulated by Queen Emma into a marriage with her cousin. Still, there are worse fates than having to wed a handsome child.

Casual Encounters by SharpestScalpel

Charles is a busy professor in his 30s - busy enough that a craigslist casual encounter is really the only way he's going to get laid any time soon.

Erik is a 19-year-old virgin with an internet connection and no social skills.

Letters for His Majesty by motleystitches (furius)

When Charles the Gentle, King of Westchester, was nineteen years old, he killed a man named Shaw and rescued a boy he gave to the MacTaggerts’ to raise. Twenty years later, he has almost forgotten the incident. With a wife he loves as a sister, no heir, and a war going badly, Charles falls quickly and inappropriately in love with the knight Erik Lehnsherr.

wait (they don’t love you like I love you)

Charles is a bad guy (head of some shady criminal organization) and Erik is the kid that grew up in his household (his mother is the help? so they maybe live in the servant’s quarters). Anyway Charles likes Erik a lot and assumes that when Erik grows up he will end up working for Charles (maybe he recognizes some violent streak of potential in Erik). Only then Erik decides, while Charles is away on some sort of shady business deal overseas, to go away to college. So obviously Charles has to go and drag Erik back because Erik is his and his alone.

David's Dad (Has Got it Going On) by afrocurl

Charles doesn't know what to do with the crush his son's best friend, Erik, has on him. At least not until Erik all but forces himself into Charles' lap one night.

An Arrangement of Soulmates by Fullmetalcarer

King Charles III of House Xavier gazed at the painting of his betrothed. Strong jaw, wide, thin lipped yet sensual mouth, straight nose, high cheekbones, intense grey-green eyes, short auburn hair.

tonight is all we need by Oxsa05

Erik has just come of age and soon will be trapped in an arranged marriage against his will. Before losing some of his freedom, he wants one night for himself so he can fulfill his true desires. Charles, an expert and famous prostitute, will make sure Erik has a lovely evening and forget about his troubles for a while, giving him everything he asks for.

Machine of a Heart by traumschwinge

Thirteen years ago, when he was just recovering from an incident during one of his deployments, Logan met Dr Charles Xavier. Dr Xavier, who'd just decided that Logan, while still unconscious, was perfect to try some physical improvements as a proof of concept for the large military project he was, back then, co-heading. Now, Logan's mostly a spy, tangled up in whatever mess Charles and his superiors think necessary to involve him with. It doesn't matter that Logan has feelings, about Charles' project, about Charles himself, about just altering other people's bodies without their consent. What'll matter soon, however, is stopping some harebrained weapons manufacturer from causing the consumption of the entire biomass on planet Earth.

twenty four hours from tulsa by intentation

After having self-emancipated (aka run away), Erik's been holing up in a shitty motel while he figures out his next step. When Charles Xavier moves into the room just down the hall, Erik discovers his new favorite pastime: sex.

Drunk Night, Sobering Days by issabella

Erik is drunk, naked - and standing in the kitchen of Charles Xavier.

Yet what comes easy to do and say while drunk to the gorgeous man with the blue eyes, seems suddenly filled with awkwardness the next morning. Erik feels like a fool though the proverbial silence is golden is not always the best advice, especially if one is quickly developing a crush.

How Prof. Shaw’s Grammar Nazi Ways Got Me Laid and Helped Me Find True Love by jasminetea

Charles is a professor. Erik is a student. They meet through Craigslist.

[anonymeqaupdates]

Avatar AU : The day the Avatar and the Prince consort of the fire nation disappeared

It started when the Air Nomad got wiped out by the Kingdom of Steel. A nation that has been recently formed at the border of the Air Nomads territories and the Fire Nation. They were a ragtag group of humans settlers that gathered different members of Water tribes members and Earth kingdom citizen. They were lead by a banished branch of the Earth Kingdom's royal family that were determined to regain the power they used to have.

They targeted the air nomads to access the resources hiding in the mountains. It took an unfortunately long time for people to realize what they had been up to. They struck the Nomads one group at the time and took advantage of the fact that they had scarce contacts with the rest of the world. The Avatar of that time had been taking care of matters on the other side of the blog and didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. He barely managed to save one small child, and begged fire empress Maleficia, his fire bending teacher, to take the child in. She agreed and the child, Lilia Vanrouge, was raised alongside the princess Maleanore and Revan, a noble's child and close friend of the two.

The previous Avatar kept fighting back against the Kingdom of Steel with the help of the Fire Nation. Unfortunately things weren't going as they wished and one day, the Avatar that has grew old and weary, died on the battle field. The empress sent emissaries in all the known water tribes in the world to find the new Avatar. Alas, he was nowhere to be found. The only place they haven't look was in the Kingdom of Steel. It became obvious they had the Avatar. Obviously this would not stand. They could not be allowed to mold the next Avatar to their design. Revan, who had grew up and married Maleanore, set out to the Steel Kingdom for a diplomatic mission, but also in search of the child before the new King Henrik could find him. And so he left behind his wife and unhatched child, as well as his best friend.

Revan stopped giving them news two weeks into his mission. A week later the remains of his escort where found and pushed Lilia and Malleanore into action. They marched to the Western air Temple, the ones that Lilia had been rescued roughly 200 years ago. A huge battle broke out, one that they would never recover completely from.

They did find Revan here, but as soon as they freed him he ran off telling them he found the Avatar. When they got to him again he was engaged in battle with the Knight of Dawn, their most dangerous opponent.

"Think of your son, are you really going to let him become a pawn of your brother-in-law?"

Lilia would never forget the shock he felt in that moment. The Avatar had been reincarnated as the new prince of the Steel Kingdom?!

Not that he had a lot of time to think about it. Distracted by Malleanore's arrival and the more immediate threat she represented, the knight left an opening that Revan used to go past him.

Locked in combat with Malleanore he couldn't stop Lilia from going after Revan either. What they did not expect was that Henrik would start firing canon balls at his own castle in hope of getting rid of them. If the Avatar died during this it was no skin off his back. If he reincarnated in his kingdom once he could do it again. Or he would steal away once he would invade the Earth Kingdom.

Lilia, Malleanore and the knight watched in horror as some rumbles fell on Revan who was holding onto the Avatar. The infant wailed and in a flash of light they were gone. Malleanore became enraged. She turned the Kingdom of Steel into a glass floor that night. Lilia, battered and heartbroken happened upon the dying Knight of Dawn.

"My son, please, save him." he handed to Lilia a ring.

The knight passed after saving those words. Lilia, overcome with anger threw his body down a pit. He was the only one who got to take a good look at his face that night.

They came back home, but the pain never left and Malleanore became cruel to anyone she didn't see as her people or family. The empress feeling betrayed that the Avatar reincarnated among the enemy and heartbroken for her daughter declared the Avatar an enemy and declared that the fire nation would take over watching over the world's balance from that day on.

For nearly half a millennia, they were no sign of the Avatar and to add to the princess' pain she struggled greatly to hatch her son, but nearly 400 years later Prince Malleus finally managed to came into the world.

161 years later, Lilia stumble upon a crying infant in the remains of the western air temple.