#he grabs daemon by the shoulders and frantically whispers to him:

[kingcunny]

oh okay. and an au where vis does get to nyra before daemon to take her out to a brothel and they get up to some heavy petting. vis isnt so bold as daemon to do this in the middle of the room but they still get spotted but the spy doesnt get a good look at viserys face and thinks hes daemon, just saw all that beautiful silver hair. mysaria still sells this information to otto and otto comes into viserys room grave as sin like “your grace…….. 😔 its no easy thing to tell a father of his daughters exploits….”

viserys, the one who was exploiting his daughter, sweating heavily, “wh………. what did she…………. do………”

[lokisprettygirl]

My Love is mine, All mine (18+) (CEO! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon -Modern AU)

Read Chapter 4 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 5 (Last)

Summary : You leave Daemon to protect him from your insecurities and to find some answers.

Warning: 18+, smut, insecurities, miscarriage , mention of abuse, smoking, extreme insecurities and trust issues, mention of infertility, reader has anxiety, mention of infidelity.

Note: I had plans to keep it short and for once I have succeeded as I didn't want to stretch the story unnecessarily. For once I have no idea what I'm going to write next but hopefully the inspiration will strike soon. Thank you to everyone who read and supported this story ❤️🙏🏻

Daemon never realized how loud he was being with his laptop keys whenever he was stressed out of his mind, you were living in one room apartment with him and the sound awakened you at times while he was working on a presentation late at night.

As you sat up on the bed and watched Daemon frantically typing away on his laptop, you couldn't help but notice his thick luscious disheveled hair, no doubt the result of running his fingers through them in frustration, a smile graced your features as it only made you want to pull him in bed and cuddle him.

As you got off the bed, Daemon turned his head to look at you, his eyes locking onto yours. He could see the love and concern in them,

"Did I wake you, my love?" he asked, his voice soft and filled with worry.

Without a word, you walked closer to him and stood behind his chair to massage his tensed shoulders.

The silk nightwear you had on made him want to make love to you right now but he couldn't afford it at the moment, he was looking for a sponsor and he was failing miserably, he had spent his life savings into building and developing this product and the only reason he wasn't living on the streets was because you were here with him, supporting him in every possible way. Feeding him when he forgot to do so, paying the rent when he couldn't contribute, holding onto him when he was giving up on himself.

He snapped out of his thoughts as your fingers trailed down from his shoulder to his forearms slowly, you leaned down to press soft kisses on his neck, your scent made him lean back into the crook of your neck, perhaps he could just calm down, just for a moment

“How long?” you whispered in his ear so he brought his hand up to caress the side of your head.

“I can't sleep darling” his voice came out gravelly, full of tiredness that you just wanted to take away

“Mmmm i know”

You mumbled as you walked around the chair and sat down on his lap as you kissed him passionately, his arms quickly wrapped around your waist, fingers roamed all over as he kissed you with equal intensity.

“Do you have five minutes?” You asked him so he chuckled in response.

“Five minutes huh?”

“Mmmhm I can make you cum in five minutes” his breath hitched as you mumbled in his ear.

At times he felt like a perv, a selfish arse, a beautiful, sweet, young girl like you deserved the world that he wasn't offering you at all but those thoughts vanished as quickly as they would come whenever he felt your loving touch on his skin.

“Do it please” he almost whined in your ears and you were quick to shove your hand inside his pants to grab his cock, all he could do after that was lean back into the chair with his eyes closed and enjoy the moment, enjoy the fact that even at his worst he was blessed with a woman who he knew would never leave his side, no matter what.

Daemon immediately picked up his phone to give you a call as he didn't find you anywhere, members of the staff told him that they saw you leaving with a packed luggage and his heartbeat sped up. Where would you go without telling him and why? Your phone wasn't reachable so he seeked Otto as he knew you must have used his services to go wherever you wanted to go. Otto informed him that you had asked him to drop you at the nearest airport, his heart sank as he heard that, why would you go somewhere without telling him? What were you doing?

He was worried, anxious and was becoming increasingly terrified with every passing second.

The feelings of fear, anger, and confusion washed over him, and he felt powerless, he couldn't do anything but wait for you to get in touch and explain, but then his eyes fell upon the note you had left on the closet door and he was already assuming the worst even before he had read it.

“I am not going anywhere where you can't find me love but I really hope you won't, not for now at least. Before you start worrying let me tell you that I am not leaving forever, and I'm not going to go anything that would hurt you or us, none of that, I just want to love you the way you love me but I have been failing lately.

Everytime I have looked at you in the past few weeks, my eyes held a sense of suspicion, and that's really not fair to you my sweet husband, you're the best man there ever could be, the greatest indeed and I want to be able to treat you like that. Want to show you how much I appreciate you in my life and how lucky I am to have someone like you who's all for me, I want to be able to believe that you're all for me Daemon because I can't go on like this forever, i can't keep hurting you this way when I'm so clouded by my insecurities.

I know you're going to be hurt with my decision and I'd deserve it if you choose to be angry with me and punish me however you see fit but I'll give you a call as soon as I reach there and i hope you'd want to hear my voice because I do, i have not even left the house yet but I already miss you and I am going to miss you terribly.

Pretty sure I'm about to lose my job, luckily you're not my boss ;)

Happy birthday baby, I love you so much even if my actions say otherwise at times, I really do love you alot.

Forever Your wifey”

His eyes welled up as he finished reading the note. He waited anxiously for his phone to ring but two hours had passed already and he was losing patience. He looked around the room and it just seemed hollow without you, that's how you must feel too when he was gone on those long business trips he thought but then he went away for work, while you went away to escape him. This decision of yours had made him worried about your relationship with him, what if the distance makes you realize that he wasn't enough for you?

Or that he was too much for you?

As his phone rang he quickly pressed it up to his ear and sat up on the bed. He wasn't able to speak, there was a lump in his throat that was making him unable to speak to you.

“Dae?” You mumbled softly and immediately heard him sniffling on the other side,

“Comeeee back please darling please come back” his voice came out in broken whispers and in that moment you absolutely hated yourself, more than you usually did anyways.

“I will Daemon, i am not gone forever, did you read my letter?” You asked him softly so he sniffled once more as he wiped his tears.

“I did..I don't understand it darling, aren't we supposed to deal with this thing together?” he asked you, through thick and thin he vowed to be there for you so he wasn't wrong.

“We are together” you told him and the anxiety he had been feeling lessened slightly.

“You promise?”

“I promise..you're stuck with me forever” he couldn't help but chuckle as you said that to him.

“I sure hope so..are you going to tell me where you are?”

“Mmmm in Heathrow..to see my father”

Daemon went quiet for a moment as you said that, you had not spoken to him since he had cheated and divorced your mother.

“Why?”

“To get answers to questions I have never dared to ask..he's the main reason why I am the way I am”

“There's nothing wrong with you my love, not a thing” your eyes welled up again as he said that. Daemon wasn't a reason for your Insecurities, not once in your relationship with him he had made you feel anything but loved thoroughly.

“I love you, you know that right?”

“Then come back to me as soon as you can” his voice was pleading and almost begging for you to return to him.

“I will..soon i promise”

He sighed as he laid down on the bed, he didn't want to overwhelm you, it wasn't like you to take such steps so he knew he'd have to give you time to figure this out on your own if that's what you wanted.

“You were right about her darling” your heart stopped for a second as he spoke.

“What?”

“She's into me” he got worried as you didn't say anything for a good few seconds but then you responded exactly how he had imagined.

“I knew it, that fucking bitchhhh…what did she do?” You asked him so he sighed and sat up again as he detailed everything that had happened after you had left the office party.

“The audacity, I just knew I couldn't trust her”

“She was drunk but that's not an excuse to speak wrongly of my wife” he mumbled softly.

“You defended me? She wasn't completely wrong you know” you told him as you knew how unfair you have been to him in the past few days with your constant suspicions.

“Hey darling? I love you but shut up please”

.. The next few days he was in touch with you via calls only, you didn't even allow him to see you on Skype as you feared it would break your resolve. At the firm Daemon had a difficult decision to make with Sheena, he had given her a notice period so she could look for another job, he was even willing to write a recommendation letter as he didn't want to be cruel. Since that night she hadn't really looked him in the eye, perhaps she was embarrassed, or it was the guilt but he didn't want to speak to her about this.

“Sir, may I say something?” Sheena mumbled as she put the files down on his desk.

“Don't say anything, you're only going to make it worse and you still have to work here for a week”

She looked down as if she was ashamed, she was going to say something but he wasn't interested so she turned around to leave..

As she left he picked up his phone to give you a call and you picked almost immediately.

“Calling me from work? Who are you?” You joked and it made him smile but then his eyes teared up because he missed you terribly, he missed your laugh, your kisses in the morning, he missed touching you not just sexually but in a way that affirmed to him that you did exist in his life and that you were all his.

“I'm calling because I know you won't be home when I go there” your smile faltered as well as he said that. You won't be there today, that was true, but you'd be there soon.

“I miss you alot, i think about you all the time”

“Even while you're showering?”

“Especially while I'm showering” he chuckled as you said that

“Did you see your father?”

“I saw him yes and I was right to come here”

“Did you get the answers you were looking for?”

“I got a few answers”

“And?”

“I need help–”

“I'm here sweetheart” your eyes teared up as he said that, always so kind and supportive and you had been taking this for granted.

“You can't help me baby..i love you so much and I don't want to ruin what we have” he sighed as you said that. If you had said something like that to him in person he'd have just wrapped his arms around you to comfort you but you weren't there.

“You can't..no matter what you do or say when you're not feeling so good, you can't ruin us…you can't make me unlove you…it's too late my sweet girl”

“God you're insufferable” you mumbled softly as tears made you unable to speak any further.

You wanted to go home, you wanted to hold onto your husband and never leave him again.

You still remembered the first time he was hit on by a woman right in front of your eyes, his business had begun to do well, he had bought this new apartment for you two where he had invited all the ten employees for a dinner party.

One of the guys had brought a female friend of his. As soon as she stepped into your home she had her eyes on him, you saw the immediate crush she had developed so quickly, now he wasn't just a genius or just another good looking man but he was also becoming richer everyday and women liked that alot.

But you were right there, right in front of your eyes that woman flirted with him and that's when you felt that first wave of insecurity coursing through you regarding your position in his life, even though he had shot down her advances immediately you felt scared, if they were willing to do it right in front of you then he must be facing such temptations all the time and you couldn't help but wonder how long he'd ignore it.

You had asked your father why he had chosen to cheat on your mother, and why he chose to ruin his marriage and leave his daughter behind. He gave you a short simple answer, something that you had hoped to hear, he told you that it wasn't your mother's fault, it was all him, he cheated because he wanted to and not because of something your mother had done to him that made him want to take that step. He knew the heartbreak it would cause but he went ahead with it anyway because he didn't care.

Your father was a different man, and so was Shelley's husband, Daemon wasn't like that, he'd never hurt you this way, he'd never go out of his way to break your heart.

The following night as Daemon reached home it was quiet, usually he'd hear the murmurs of the staff working but it was eerily quiet tonight, when he went upstairs he found you standing on the door wearing your sexiest nightwear.

He wanted to run to you and hug you but the way you looked at him made him stop in his tracks.

You bit on your lips as you looked at him from head to toe, he looked deadly on a given day but the all black suit he had on was your demise. You were going to seduce him, use your charm to apologize but you found yourself bewitched instead.

“Hiiii” you mumbled softly as you leaned against the door frame so he walked closer to you and placed his hands on the wall, trapping you between his body and the door. He wasn't saying anything, was just staring with an intensity that made you nervous and made you drip at the same time.

“You can be upset with me, you should be” you mumbled as you loosened his tie so he grabbed your hand to stop your movement before he turned you around and pressed you against the closed bedroom door flat on your stomach, next thing you knew your hands were tied using the same tie.

“Never again you hear me? You're not going to just take off without telling me first” he whispered in your ear before his lips latched onto your neck and he sucked a mark that you knew would last for days.

“Never again I promise..i promise” you could barely speak coherently because his fingers had reached under your dress already, fingers played with your clit mercilessly as he brought you closer to your release. It's been a while and you hadn't touched yourself in his absence, you wanted to wait and suffer for this very moment.

That night was eventful, he made you cum right against the door, then you sucked his cock like a whore while you told him how sorry you were and then he fucked you on the bed, his thrusts and words equally possesive, equally desperate.

When you woke up the next morning he didn't go to work, he stayed home all day with you and treated you like a queen, he apologized for being neglectful even though he wasn't.

You didn't come back home all fixed as if you never had any problem, far from it, but now you knew that you had a major problem and you knew you needed someone to tell you that, someone to hear you and someone to help you with your thoughts. You knew you needed therapy and you were determined to get it.

A few months later you were out shopping with Daemon for Christmas and perhaps it was just your luck but you bumped into Sheena, literally, you bumped right into her.

"I have been meaning to speak with you Mrs Targaryen" Sheena spoke to you so you looked at Daemon confused.

“I'll go look for that thing you keep asking about” he mumbled softly as he kissed you briefly so you gave him a smile and watched him walk away from you both.

“Mrs. Targaryen” she smiled as she spoke so you reverted it. You didn't want to be rude, there was no point anymore.

“Just call me y/n, he's not your boss anymore” you told her so she nodded

“I know you must not care but I really wanted to apologize” you crossed your arms as she said that.

“For hitting on my husband or for insulting me?”

Okay you couldn't help yourself.

“For both, I was..just jealous of you to be honest”

Your eyes narrowed as she said that, you were jealous of her, why on earth was she jealous of you?

“Why is that?”

“You seem to have it all, you have everything I have ever wanted but never had. I was out of line and it was just my jealousy speaking..nothing else” she looked down as she spoke before she continued “Daemon is a good man and anyone with eyes can see it but if he chose you then there must be a reason for that right? My life was in shambles at the time and i misspoke, i couldn't help but wonder why I couldn't be you and have a good job, a good husband, a perfect life”

You chuckled as she said that.

“My life is not perfect Sheena, nobody's is”

“I understand that, I just wanted to apologize because I feel guilty about what I had done, my stupidity caused me a job i really loved” you could tell that she was being genuine but you didn't want to entertain her further, therapy hadn't turned you into a saint. At the end of the day she was a woman that had tried to hit on your husband and you didn't want her anywhere around him or you for that matter.

“I'm sorry but you're capable of doing great things, don't be so hard on yourself”

As Daemon returned you gave Sheena one last smile and she mumbled a greeting before she walked away. You spent weeks feeling inferior to her and for what? She was insecure as well, even with all that she possessed she was insecure, her insecurities were different that yours but not any less debilitating.

“Are you alright baby?”

You looked at your gorgeous husband as he asked you and you couldn't help but smile. Lucky, you had gotten so lucky.

You were more than alright, you felt good, you felt happy, you felt perfect in that moment.

Because now you believed, deep down in your heart you knew that your love was yours. All yours.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Taglist

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@powellssaturn @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

The Fight - Little Sparrow Series Oneshot

A/N: I took a much looser approach with the prompt for Writer Wednesday. :) Thank you for reading, reblogging, and commenting. 

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x F! Reader x Ellaria Sand 

Warnings: 18 + for language, canon typical violence, mentions of depression, wanting to die, angst with a resolution. 

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

“You are an absolute FOOL!” Ellaria shouts from the entrance to the training yards. Men and women scattered in all directions at the fire in her eyes. Ellaria is a fearsome woman to behold on an average day but when she is angry, beware.

Oberyn scoffs and stabs his spear into the ground, leaning on it gently. “What have I done now?” Ellaria stomps the rest of the way towards him and grabs onto his jaw harshly. 

“What have you done now?! Think, you always claim to be the smartest man in the room, the most cunning, the red viper,” her words dripping with sarcasm. 

“I truly do not know,” he pushes her hand away, but the viper is not quick enough, and her hand smacks across his face. The spear clatters the ground, and Oberyn reaches for his cheek, holding it and staring at her with wide eyes. 

“How dare you?” she growls, “I should have hit you harder! Maybe then you would remember what you have done to our Sparrow.” 

Oberyn furrows his brow for a moment before realization slowly dawns on his face. Memories of a conversation with you from the night before. His belly was still full of wine, his head a bit hazy as he spared with a newer soldier. 

**********

“Oberyn, please,” you begged, standing outside the ring used for fighters. His moves were sloppy; he was going to get himself hurt. “Please, my love, come to bed.” 

“Go!” he barks at you, narrowly missing a blow to the head from the other wooden sword of his opponent. “Is that all you got?!” he shouts, edging the other man on. His expression hardens, and his sword moves quicker, slashing left and right against Oberyn. 

You know what day it is—the reason for his drinking to excess, calling upon everyone for a fight. The children and Ellaria had been sent away for the evening, and you wished for her soft touch around your shoulders. Oberyn had begged you to stay, claiming only to need your body to suppress the grief he wishes to drown in. “Oberyn,” you call again, quieter, the tears beginning to swell in your eyes. 

He turns towards you, and that’s all the distraction his opponent needed. The other man strikes him in the chest, knocking him off balance, the spear toppling from his hand. He barrels, rolls around your prince, and picks up the spear pointing the sharp blade against his neck. “Yield,” he growls, eyes hard, and Oberyn just watches his chest panting, the steel prick of his spear against his throat. 

The red viper does not lose. 

“Yield,” he repeats, pressing the blade tighter to the prince’s throat, drawing a drop of blood, staining the golden robes. 

Oberyn lifts his head, and more blood trickles down his neck, “never,” he growls, voice dripping with venom. “Kill me,” he orders, “strike me down, live in infamy as the man who killed the Red Viper.” 

“NO!” you step forward, reaching a hand out to wrap around the spear with one hand and pushing your lover down with the other. “That is quite enough for one night.” His opponent drops the spear to the ground and stands above you, bowing his head. 

“My apologies, my Lady, my Prince,” he bows to you both before turning to leave the training yard. All others have left for the night, and it’s as silent as the grave as you turn back to Oberyn. 

You can feel his eyes burning on yours, and you avoid them, instead choosing to focus on the golden robe. “You’re covered in blood, my Prince,” you go to unbutton the cinch at the top, but his hand tightens around your own. 

“Don’t touch me,” his voice is stern, and he throws your hand aside, standing up. You remain kneeling before him, head down; he’s never used that tone with you. The anger and malice slicing through your heart like a dagger. “How dare you.” 

Your head snaps up, and you feel the strength returning as you stand, hands trembling with your anger. “How could I? Do you expect me to just stand on the sidelines and watch you die?! Hurt yourself?!” 

“I had it under control,” he takes a threatening step towards you, his finger coming up to your face, “you disgraced me.” 

You take a shuddering breath, “I disgraced you because I love you? Explain that to me, Oberyn. I love you with my entire heart, my soul.” 

He scoffs and takes a shaky step away, his fingers fumbled with the buttons of his robe, throwing it towards you. It bounces off your chest, and you catch it in your hands, the blood staining your fingers. “You’re not my wife,” he tosses over his shoulder as he reaches for the goblet of wine, filling up his cup, “why don’t you find some other cock to fuck you tonight.” 

You ball the fabric up in your hand and feel your heart shatter in two, “I don’t take other lovers beside you and Ellaria; you know that.” 

He laughs, “well, it is not my cock that will fill your cunt tonight. I’ll go to the brothel and find another woman who won’t disgrace me in battle and will keep her mouth filled with my cock instead of nagging me about what I do.” 

You watch him walk away out towards the front of the Palace, each step putting another nail in the coffin of your heart. Oberyn did not visit the brothels since you joined his little harem, Ellaria, and you being more than enough for him. Ellaria had warned this could happen tonight, on this day when the memory of his sister, Elia, and her children’s deaths are reawoken like gaping wounds.

“Daemon,” you call into the shadows knowing the Prince’s guard is never far, “follow him, please,” you whisper, and he nods. His footsteps retreating after Oberyn. 

You walk through the quiet halls of the Water Gardens and towards the washing room near the river. And there you stay until the morning light streams through. Your hands scrubbed raw with the force you used to remove the blood from the Golden robes. The fabric still scrunched between your fingers as you lay your head in a basket of blankets ready to be washed. 

“My lady,” one of the servants presses her hand gently on your arm, and you blink, sitting up suddenly, “are you alright?” 

“Where’s Oberyn?” you ask, almost frightened to know. 

“The Prince returned only a few hours ago; the Maester gave him something to make him sleep. He should be up in a few hours right as rain.” The young woman smiles at you, and you cringe at the kink in your neck. “My Lady, please beg pardon, but you don’t look so well, should we call the Maester?” 

“No,” you reply quickly, “no, please don’t. I just need to rest.” You move towards the door, planning to lock yourself in your private room for the rest of the day.

“What about the Prince’s robe?” she probes gently, and you stiffen, glancing down at the fabric still clutched between your hands. “Would you like us to wash them?” You nod, feeling hollow, memories of the night before flashing before your eyes. She gasps when you hand the robe over and looks at your hands, clutching them. “My Lady, your hands….” 

You grab them back and clutch them to your chest, “please,” you close your eyes, feeling the tears ready to flow, “please just forget about them.” When you open, she looks sad but nods. 

“Your secret is safe with me,” she whispers back, and you give her a slight nod, going off to your room to rest. 

The rest of the day passes uneventful, many come with offers of food and a bath, but you ignore their calls. With the last of your strength, you’d pushed the dresser against the door so no one could enter. “Sparrow?” Ellaria’s voice chimes from the other side and you tremble at the concern in her voice, “they said you had not eaten all day; what is the matter?” She tries to turn the handle, but the door is locked, and you hear her shouting orders at someone, probably to unlock it. 

She twists the nob, and it turns, but the door doesn’t budge. “Sparrow! Come to the door, are you alright?!” she sounds frantic, and you want to get up, but your energy is gone. The Prince’s words playing over and over in your head doubts swimming over everything you’ve built with him. 

The curtains towards the balcony sway in the breeze, and you hear footsteps coming from the window. “She’s bared the door, Mother!” Nym shouts, pushing the dresser out of the way and coming back to sit beside you, putting her hand on your cheek, “mama? Are you alright?” 

“Nym, leave us,” Ellaria commands, and Nym nods, leaning down to kiss your forehead before standing and leaving quickly, pulling the door shut behind her. Ellaria lays down on the bed beside you and puts her hand to your cheek, kissing you softly. “What’s the matter, Little Sparrow?” You break down and cry, her pushing you tight to her breast and running her hand over your head as you tell her everything. 

“He told me I’m not his wife. That, it’s not his cock that will fill my cunt. He’ll go to the brothel and find another woman who won’t disgrace him in battle and will keep her mouth filled with his cock instead of nagging him about what he does.” 

Her hand stills, and her voice is tight, “he said that to you?” You nod, letting out a hiccup from your sobs. “Has he come and spoke to you today?” You shake your head no, and her voice drops lower, almost deadlier, “I’ll be back.” She disentangles herself from your arms, and you watch her straighten her spine, her hands clenched into fists at her side. 

**********

Oberyn clutches his head and looks ashamed at the ground. “Ah, now he remembers,” Ellaria taunts, “you are lucky she is even still here! I would have let you rot before I let you talk to me that way. Now, go and make this right before you make the biggest mistake of your life.” 

“I wouldn’t blame her if she never forgave me.” 

“Oh no, you do not get to feel sorry for yourself.” Ellaria waggles a finger at him as he lifts his eyes to meet the fire in her gaze. “Do you love her?” 

“Yes.” 

“Do you want her to stay? To warm your bed? Give you children, and take care of you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then go talk to her,” Ellaria crosses her arms over her chest and glares down at him, “or you will lose two paramours today.” 

He stands and moves past her to your chambers, where he idles outside the door. Shame filling him at the words he hurled at you, like verbal daggers. He knocks on the door, unsurprised not to hear an answer. He twists the knob and walks inside. “Little Sparrow,” he calls out to you, hating how your body tenses up turned away from him on the bed. He closes the door behind him and comes to sit behind you on the bed, reaching a hand out to your waist. 

You push his hand away, and he gasps at the rough touch of your palm. He is quickly reaching across you to pull your hands into his own. “What happened? Who did this to you?” He would kill them. 

“You did,” you whisper broken, “I tried to get the blood out of your robe you threw at me,” you raise your eyes to meet his. The warmth is missing from his brown eyes as he stares down hard at your hands. 

“You washed my robe?” 

“What else was I supposed to do? Find another cock to fill my cunt,” the words taste bitter on your tongue, and you rip your hands from his own, clutching them to your chest. “How was the brothel?” 

“I don’t know. I woke up fully clothed there this morning, Daemon guarding the door. He said I demanded whores to be brought to me, but I sent them all away.” 

“Why?” 

“Because no one is you, my love.” He reaches his hand out, and you fall to your back as he hovers over you. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, “I begged you to stay, and then I...I didn’t mean any of it. I was angry and sad.” 

“You wanted to die, Oberyn.” Your words hanging in the air between you. 

“I always wish I had died instead of her,” he whispers, “Every day I see Elia in my head, her voice begging me to move forward. This is the first time in two years I felt that way. It used to be every day.” 

“What changed two years ago?” 

“I met you.” Your heart pounds, and he moves closer, laying some of his weight down on you, “I met a Little Sparrow that took my heart and made it soar to the heavens where she flew. You,” his voice cracks with emotion, “are the love of my life. My reason for living. I’m sorry I lost my way.” 

You cup his cheek and brush the stray tears, “have you found your way home to me?” 

“I always know which way to fly home, Little Sparrow; you light the way.” 

“I love you, Oberyn Martell. I forgive you, but please don’t leave me alone in this world.” 

“Never, my love, never.” 

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Blood in the Rivers: X

A/N: okay! we have reached the end, my loves. I’m so sorry for taking so long, but I truly appreciate your patience. This is v v self-indulgent but hey! happy endings are important to me. 

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand x F!Reader (Tully)

Rating: NC-17 for penetrative sex, oral sex (f-receiving), everyone has a breeding kink, mention of child birth, pregnancy, ...babies

Word Count: 13.7k ( ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

Read Chapters I-IX here! or on Ao3!

Chapter Ten: Adventure Awaits

Y/N had always suspected that she would feel nervous on her wedding day. Either from dread or giddiness, she could never be sure—but she still expected some trepidation. But there was nothing except a gentle eagerness blooming in her heart as Daisy finished helping her ready for the ceremony. Her dress was a soft white silk and gossamer frock with little embellishment. But it swayed with each of her movements like the sea and made her feel beautiful.

“You look every bit a princess,” Daisy said, tears in her eyes, as she finished fastening Y/N’s maiden’s cloak to her shoulders. “I cannot believe we have finally reached this day.”

“It did take a few battles, did it not?” Y/N mused, happiness coloring her tone. “And you shall have your own happy day next moon. Finally. Daemon is the most patient of men.”

Daisy laughed. “We have found ourselves some bit of happiness here in Dorne. Have we not, my lady?”

**

Y/N could barely keep the smile from hurting her face as she heard the soft music coming from inside the sept. Two servants were smiling broadly at her, waiting to pull open the doors. With one last adjustment to the maiden cloak on her shoulders, Y/N nodded and they opened the great doors with a flourish.

The Sept was filled with Martells and the Sand Snakes and the Ullers, and a handful of other lords and ladies, all of them smiling, all of them happy. Y/N stepped forward, one foot in front of the other, and had to bite back a giddy laugh when she spotted Oberyn at the end of the aisle. He was dressed in his finery; cream-colored silk and brocade with silver and gold thread, emblazoned with spear-pierced suns that glittered in the candlelight. A wash of yellow and red fabric was carefully placed over his arm. Ellaria was standing closest to him, even closer than the Septon, dressed in a daffodil dress with golden chains draped over her shoulders and chest. They were beautiful.

Y/N continued forward and spotted Loreza frantically waving as she held onto Gryves’ collar, his tail wagging furiously and rucking up the hem of Loreza’s pretty dress. But Y/N waved back, earning a happy bark from Gryves.

Ellaria stepped forward before Y/N reached the end and wrapped an arm around Y/N’s, leading her the last few feet to Oberyn’s side before gently taking Y/N’s hand and placing it in Oberyn’s outstretched palm. She pressed a kiss to Y/N’s cheek before letting Oberyn turn them toward the Septon.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection,” the Septon said with a soft smile.

Oberyn’s warm hands slipped up Y/N’s arms to undo the fastenings of her maiden’s cloak and handed it over to a smiling Trystane as he finished before he unfurled the cloak in his arms and he cloaked her in his family’s colors, two golden suns now sitting on her shoulders. He smiled at her and Y/N once again had to will herself into quietude, wanting to shout her joy for all to hear.

“My lords, my ladies,” the septon started, “we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

Oberyn grasped her right hand and kissed her fingers before holding their joined hands out to the septon to tie a red silk ribbon around their wrists.

“Let it be known that Y/N of House Tully, and Prince Oberyn of House Nymeros Martell are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.” The septon thrust out his hands. “In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity.” He then carefully undid the simple knot he had tied with a smile and told them to face each other and Oberyn greedily grasped her other hand in his and squeezed her fingers affectionately. “Repeat these words; Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger...”

Y/N and Oberyn did, saying the words almost a bit too quickly if the Septon’s quiet tutting was any indication.

But they could not be stopped. Oberyn pushed forward, “I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

“I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days,” Y/N said her part and felt her heart flutter like humming bird’s wings within the confines of her ribs.

Pleased, the septon nodded.

That was all the permission Oberyn needed before he grasped at Y/N’s face. Softly, and just for her to hear, he whispered, “with this kiss, I pledge my love.”

And then he kissed her, smiling against her mouth as the crowd clapped and cheered. He gently grasped her hand in his again as they walked out of the sept and into the sunlight.

**

The feast was held in Sunspear’s great hall, and it was filled with raucous conversation, beautiful music, and her favorite company. Oberyn had convinced Doran to let the rest of the servants partake in the festivities so the hall was alive with some beautiful revelry.

Gifts were stacked high on the back wall and Y/N was sure they were all lovely but all she could do was revel in how Oberyn was quick to move her around the floor with all the grace of prowling panther and he nearly devoured her with hungry kisses that left her gasping and uncaring of the audience. “My wife, my moonlight.”

“My husband,” Y/N replied, smile wide. But then her gaze was caught by Ellaria’s approaching form and they both held out a hand for her.

Ellaria matched their smile and readily put her hands in theirs, letting herself be pulled close and the three of them swayed to the music—together. As it should be, as it always should have been. The next song came and went before Loreza and Dorea were begging their father for a dance which he quickly obliged after excusing himself from Y/N and Ellaria’s side with a kiss to each of their mouths. Y/N and Ellaria continued to dance and Y/N reveled in Ellaria’s soft hands as they held her close.

“You are finally ours, my love,” Ellaria whispered in her ear.

“I have always been yours,” Y/N responded, breathing in Ellaria’s expensive citrus and floral perfume in a heady breath.

Ellaria hummed and pulled her a little closer as the song started to reach its crescendo. “Yes, you have. But now the whole of the Seven Kingdoms will know.”

Y/N laughed and pressed her lips to hers, to absolutely no one’s surprise.

She could finally be free here—to love who she loved, to be who she was always meant to be.

**

The gifts had been opened and carefully put away by a tittering Daisy who then all but skipped out of the room just in time for Oberyn and Ellaria to drag Y/N into the softly lit room, candles casting deep shadows on the walls.

Cheers and music were still filtering into the room.

The three had foregone the calls for a traditional bedding—being carried away by a group of men and stripped of her clothing was not something she wanted and everyone knew better than to ever touch Oberyn’s wife or paramour. The fact that Y/N now had a bloody reputation might have stayed their hand, too.

But none of that mattered now. Ellaria was pressing kisses to her neck and tugging at the lacings of her soft dress as Oberyn was bodily dragging them both toward the bed. And just as he heaved them onto the silken blankets—there was a knock at the door.

“Papa!” Came the little voice on the other side.

Oberyn pulled back, lips leaving from their place just above Y/N’s chest, to look at the door.

And the knock came again. “Papa!” It was Loreza, sniffling and huffing with tears—Y/N could hear them through the door.

Oberyn sighed and righted his tunic before winking. “I shall be back soon, my loves.” He then quickly left, the sound of Oberyn’s calming voice trailing and fading as they walked down the hall.

“Nightmares again?” Y/N asked, pushing herself further into the pillows as Ellaria shifted on the bed to swing a leg over Y/N’s hips and settle over her stomach.

Ellaria nodded and then bent to press a kiss against Y/N’s lips, letting her tongue curl around hers and taste the tart Dornish wine they had all imbibed throughout the feast—probably to excess. “But you will soon have to chase away nightmares, too.” Her warm hands started to grab at the loosened bodice of Y/N’s dress and dragged it down her arms, exposing her breasts to the cooled night air.

“Oh?” Y/N asked, hazing mind trying to keep up with Ellaria’s words and her hands.

Ellaria nodded against her mouth, slipping her hand beneath the bundled fabric of Y/N’s wedding dress to trail her fingers against her stomach as the younger woman heaved with each breath. “Oh yes. Oberyn and I are going to make sure you are round with child. Another babe to fill these halls with love and laughter.”

Y/N gasped, body heating for more than just one reason. Oh, she wanted. She wanted. She wanted.

Ellaria somehow shucked Y/N’s gown past her hips and onto the stone floor as she kissed her again and had slipped her beautifully devious fingers into Y/N’s lacy smallclothes, finding her clit with a happy laugh as Y/N all but choked against her lips.

Y/N fumbled with Ellaria’s dress, trying to push and pull it—she just needed it off. She needed to feel Ellaria’s warm skin under her hands. But Ellaria was, as always, a force to be reckoned with. She pushed Y/N down onto the bed after taking pity on the poor woman and sitting straight just long enough to rid herself of her pretty gown. And Y/N warred with herself, happy to have Ellaria bare in front of her but longing for Ellaria’s fingers to once again touch her.

“All ours for the night—and every night after that,” Ellaria hummed as leaned down against to press an open-mouthed kiss against Y/N’s shining lips.

Y/N let her greedy hands slide across Ellaria’s warm skin to grab handfuls of her beautiful breasts, plucking at her hardened peaks in the way Ellaria liked and smiling when Ellaria whined. “Just as you are mine.”

Ellaria hummed, pausing to gently cradle Y/N’s face with a soft, hungry look in her dark eyes that had Y/N’s heart fluttering even more. “Tonight is about you, my love. It may not be always pleasant but we will try our best to bring you pleasure.”

Y/N could only nod—but she whined when Ellaria slipped off to the side and reclined beside Y/N, inching her fingers down Y/N’s heaving chest and swirling her fingertips around one nipple and then the next before tapping at the pile of pillows a little further up the bed.

“Come, my love.”

Y/N scurried to do as she was bid and pressed herself into the pillows. She held out her hands for Ellaria to take but was only rewarded with Ellaria shaking her head with a smile and a lick to her lips as she pushed herself up onto one arm to lean over Y/N, boxing her in. Ellaria’s perfect lips dragged down her neck to her bare shoulder and the simple touch had Y/N gasping, wine continuing to fog her mind in a wonderful haze.

“We have to get you ready. Get you wet enough that your body will take him deep.” Deft fingers plucked at the small bows at the sides of Y/N’s underclothes and Ellaria slowly pulled them away, making Y/N jump and shiver as the lace slid over her skin before Ellaria tossed them over her shoulder to join the growing pile of clothes on the stone floor. “You’re so pretty, so good. My good girl.”

Y/N couldn’t stop herself then, tangling her fingers in Ellaria’s glorious hair and dragging her lips to hers and licking into her mouth, tasting more Dornish wine. But Y/N suddenly keened when Ellaria’s fingers found her slit again—circling, circling, circling and drawing a whine from the new bride.

And it was so easy for Ellaria to coax Y/N to a breathless orgasm, her fingers tugging at Ellaria’s wrist as her hand continued to move, fingers continuing to plunder despite the slick soaking up to her wrist.

“Good girl,” Ellaria purred.

The coil that had just snapped continued to tighten again, now with a delicious bite. Ellaria’s movements were steady and continuous, again and again finding that place inside Y/N that had her gasping and whining—for more, for less—for everything. And just as she was sure the coil was going to bite and snap…Ellaria stopped. Y/N watched her head tilt toward the door.

Oberyn was standing there, arms crossed over his broad chest and a wide smile on his face. “A wonderful sight to greet me, to be sure.”

Ellaria turned just enough to lean on her elbow beside Y/N with a laugh of her own. “I am surprised you stopped to admire the view, my love.” She crooked a shining finger at Oberyn. “Come.” And then, Ellaria’s fingers slipped down Y/N’s stomach and cupped her mound for just a moment before using just two to spread Y/N’s lips to the cooled night air and Oberyn’s hungry gaze. “Isn’t she just so pretty, my love? Look how wet she is for us.” And then Ellaria pressed inside and curled her fingers, letting Y/N’s slick coat her skin as she twisted her wrist just so and had the younger woman writhing beside her again. But Ellaria quickly withdrew and held out her glistening fingers to Oberyn who greedily pulled them between his smiling lips to lick them clean, moaning at her taste.

Y/N watched it all in a daze, wanting more of that pleasure—more of what only Oberyn and Ellaria could give her even if there was just a slight sting to it, her body still overstimulated. “Oh please,” she whined, hips lifting from the bed as she watched Oberyn’s wicked tongue drag across his bottom lip in search of just a bit more of her taste.

“She is magnificent, as always. Even more so when I have you with us: my pair of perfect loves.”

Y/N’s entire body warmed at the words. Her and Ellaria. Ellaria and Oberyn. This is how it was supposed to be—all of them together. But her thoughts quickly faded into syrup as Ellaria’s dexterous fingers once again curled inside and had her struggling against the arm Ellaria had suddenly slung across her stomach. And Y/N could feel Ellaria’s smirk as she pressed her mouth against the side of Y/N’s sweat-slick throat. “You’re almost there, my love. Almost ready to finally take your prince.” The wet sound of Ellaria’s fingers quickly grew louder and louder as Y/N felt the pleasurable coil start to tighten and tighten and tighten until Ellaria used her other hand to pet at her clit, fingers brushing against it over and over again until the coil snapped and Y/N wailed.

She barely heard Ellaria’s praises and coos as she came back to herself, shaking in the other woman’s soft grip.

“You’re doing so well, my love. So well. I will never tire of seeing you take your pleasure from me. You sing so sweetly.” Ellaria’s lips caught hers in a brief kiss, tongue curling around hers before she sat straight. “Are you ready?” She asked.

Y/N nodded before her next breath pushed out of her lungs. She wanted this. She wanted all of it.

Oberyn was quickly to divest himself of his robes and breeches as Ellaria continued to trail her fingers up and down, up and down across Y/N’s stomach. Y/N felt her heart catch in her throat again, watching as Oberyn’s heavy cock was revealed. She had seen it before, of course, but just as she still grew excited at the sight of Ellaria’s perfect breasts, he was something to wonder at, too.

Oberyn slid onto the bed, long and strong legs bracketing Y/N’s knees as he smiled and leaned down just enough to kiss her, stealing her breath as his tongue plundered into her mouth.

His fingers briefly touched her folds, spreading her own wetness around and she watched as Oberyn’s smile widened and pride bloomed in her already warmed chest at the look in his honey-colored eyes. He shuffled closer, hands dragging up her thighs and pressing his thumbs into her hips to tease a squeal from her lips before he stole another kiss.

Ellaria’s fingers once again spread her wide, pushing her apart to reveal all of her, and Oberyn took his cock and let it drag against her folds and Y/N let out a choked moan, feeling him nearly catch once and then twice.

This was it. This was what she needed, the want burning in her bones like wildfire. “O-Oberyn, please…”

“She begs so prettily, my love,” Ellaria mused, nipping at Y/N’s ear. “End her torment.”

“Eager thing,” Oberyn chuckled, dark eyes burning into hers before dragging back down to her pussy and his ministrations finally stopped as the head of his cock, now shining with her, stilled, bracketed by Ellaria’s fingers. “Ready, my moonlight?”

Y/N could only nod as Ellaria’s fingers, slick and warm, curled to circle her clit, sending pleasurable jolts up and down her spine. And then Oberyn was pushing, parting her velvety walls slowly and with a determined sort of care that had her eyes watering and a smile pressing at her gasping mouth despite the small pinch and burn of the stretch that grew the deeper he sank inside. They loved her. They loved her so much and it was all so overwhelming with how much they cared about her and her pleasure. Ellaria’s fingers on her clit were steady and unwavering as Oberyn gave small thrusts, sinking a little deeper each time, making Y/N’s walls flutter around his cock.

Y/N closed her eyes as she felt the coil grow tighter and tighter, finally feeling her body clench around something thicker than her lovers’ fingers and a broken moan ripped its way out of her throat.

She felt so full and beautiful and loved and she only opened her eyes when she felt Oberyn’s lips brush against her panting mouth. His eyes were sparkling despite his labored breathing and his warm hand slid across her stomach as he gave a final thrust and was finally, finally, finally fully seated inside.

“Do you feel me, my moonlight? Right here?”

Her hand pressed over his as she felt, rather than heard, Ellaria’s laugh as her quickly unraveling mind made her tongue lead in her mouth. “I do. I feel all of you.”

Oberyn smiled and stole another kiss. “And you are well?”

And with a final curl of Ellaria’s fingers, the coil snapped and Y/N came, thighs shaking as a heady moan slipped through her spit-slick lips. She barely heard Oberyn’s answering groan as he felt her clamp down and her walls trembled.

“You are going to unmake me,” Oberyn huffed as her mind started to clear.

Her body continued to shake as he started to pull back, letting her feel each ridge and vein before slowly sliding back in. Her breath punched out of her each time he pushed deep and it always left her gasping, lungs burning.

“Her cunt feels like heaven, doesn’t it, my love?” Ellaria asked before sucking her shining fingers between her lips.

“It does,” Oberyn said with another slow drag in and out. “But I will not spend myself until she cums again.”

“I-I can’t,” Y/N said, her hand curling around Ellaria’s beautiful thigh.

“You will,” Ellaria said, tone commanding. “With your prince’s cock in your cunt, you will cum.”

But then her hands grasped at Y/N’s breasts and squeezed, rolling her hardened peaks between her fingers with an effortless ruthlessness that had Y/N arching her back, trying to give more to Ellaria to hold and grab. “I-I-” The words halted in her throat as she felt his lips find hers again, warm breath sliding against her face.

Everything was just Oberyn and Ellaria—and everything was beautiful.

Shaking hands reached up to grasp at his shoulders, trying clumsily to drag him closer—she needed him closer for some reason she couldn’t explain.

Oberyn and Ellaria showered her in praises as his thrusts continued to grow stronger; Y/N was their good girl, their love, their Moonlight, and she was taking him so well. And all of the lovely words were effecting her just as much as the delicious movement of Oberyn as he continued his deep and slow drag.

And that familiar coil started to pull tight again, slower than the previous two but much, much more intense—something she could feel in her marrow.

“O-Oh, please,” she begged, hands still scrambling for purchase against his slick back, against Ellaria’s wrists as her hand continued to move between her legs, darting from one to the other as her hips start to buck and press against Oberyn’s pistoning hips.

And Oberyn let out a guttural moan at that, feeling how he would sink deeper each time she would meet his thrusts. Ellaria leaned over to lick into his open mouth and coach another moan from his throat. His hands grasped at her hips as his paced quickened, the drag and thrust lighting each of her nerves aflame as she continued to hurdle towards another orgasm.

As the coil grew tighter, Y/N kept lifting and moving her hips, trying to match Oberyn’s movements, wanting to hear that sound again and knowing it was her who made him. And she was rewarded with his beautiful noises again and again and felt his grip tighten on her hips even as he never went too hard or too quick; still endlessly careful with her.

“Touch her again,” Oberyn said, looking at Ellaria. “Help get her there.”

Ellaria huffed a laugh at that but finally released her hold on Y/N’s chest to slide her fingers back down to simply press against Y/N’s hardened clit and making the other woman keen and wail. Y/N’s vision went white and all she could feel was a sharp pleasure spreading through her body. She collapsed, boneless, beside Ellaria who cooed her approval in sweet tones as she brushed a kiss against her temple.

Oberyn thrust twice more before sinking completely and let out guttural moan and Y/N felt warmth pool inside and she shivered, letting herself finally just feel—and come down from the high her loves had constantly maintained.

She winced, only slightly, as Oberyn slowly pulled out. He leaned down to kiss her lips, each of her breasts, and then her stomach before he stood, sliding off the side of the rumpled bed. Y/N watched him walk over to the small table and dunk a bit of cloth into the waiting bowl of water.

But Ellaria was soon sitting up with a click up her tongue. “Don’t waste it,” she said, fingers sliding through Y/N’s folds once more to gather Oberyn’s cum and press it back into Y/N’s pussy. “It belongs inside.”

Y/N could only nod at Ellaria’s command and did not have the energy to jump when Oberyn took a dampened cloth to gently clean between her thighs, pressing a kiss to each of her legs as he did so. “You were perfect, my moonlight. I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you and Ellaria in my bed.”

Ellaria whispered her agreement against Y/N’s sweat-slicked temple before pressing a gentle kiss there, too, and Y/N could only smile in return—still boneless. But her mind turned as she looked at her husband and paramour.

“I know that you both cannot be sated by simply one.” Y/N crooked a finger at Oberyn as he stood straight. “While I am indisposed for the moment, please do not stifle your urges. Our love,” she said, reaching out to Ellaria, “has been too much of a giver with me, I am ashamed to admit,” Y/N said, still trying to catch her breath as she smiled.

Ellaria chuckled. “I think our Princess wants a show.”

Y/N watched Ellaria push herself to her knees and tug Oberyn into a kiss and the pair fell back onto the mussed blankets and pillows with a laugh.

Oh yes, Y/N thought as she watched them—slow hands and unhurried kisses of familiar lovers, there would be time when they could all three truly find pleasure together, but this was heaven for now.

**

“Raise your elbow—just a little higher,” Y/N said, standing behind Dorea at the training grounds.

Dorea huffed and but did as she was told. “Better?”

“Yes—now loose.”

The arrow flew through the air and managed to hit the target—a little more than off center.

“You grow better every day, Dorea,” Y/N said as she clapped the young girl on the shoulder. “Soon you may best me!”

Dorea squealed happily, the bow sliding from her grip before she turned and launched herself at Y/N, wrapping her surprisingly strong little arms around Y/N’s stomach in a tight squeeze. But soon the girl’s Septa appeared, the familiar look of resigned disappointment on her aged features for once again finding Dorea at the training grounds instead of at her lessons. Y/N quietly nudged her back toward the Septa as she fought a smile. She would not tell the disappointed woman that Loreza was currently running around with Gryves—they were still fond of splashing into the Sunset Sea despite the water growing colder with each passing day.

Winter had been slow to reach Dorne. The heat remained throughout the day but the nights grew colder and colder. While Ellaria and Oberyn had taken to wrapping themselves in furs from the time the sun set and until it rose again, Y/N was content with just her blankets and Gryves would occasionally manage to wriggle his massive body between her and Oberyn during the night to keep her warm. Oberyn would always grumble in the morning—mentioning how the blankets were full of Gryves’ black fur or complaining about how Gryves would always manage to kick in his sleep and push his enormous paws into Oberyn’s stomach or back. Ellaria was always happy to find the large dog in the bed, ignoring Oberyn’s mutterings to scratch behind Gryves’ ears.

Doran and Trystane had taken to the large dog, too. The two princes found Oberyn’s inability to truly befriend Gryves’ amusing and would “sneak” bits of food to him whenever they visited and Gryves had managed to hold Y/N and Ellaria’s attention for longer than a few heartbeats when Oberyn was telling a story of his adventures.

Y/N found the strange power plays between her husband and faithful dog endlessly entertaining.

It was all so…idyllic.

Ravens came and went from Dorne, even with Winter raging in the other six kingdoms. Sansa was seeing to the final stages of reconstruction to her ancestral home and was proving herself to be a very capable and shrewd Lady Stark according to the whispers that made their way down to Dorne.

Doran always smiled when he heard them and Y/N knew there was a constant stream of ravens between the Water Gardens and Winterfell, the two keeping in contact like a doting father and favored daughter.

A short letter came a few moons after her wedding in Arya’s tilted handwriting. Found Gendry. Going West.

“There you are, my moonlight!”

She turned to see Oberyn bounding across the training grounds, still only dressed in his linen sleeping trousers and an open robe, rumpled from being hastily discarded the night before. The small group of guards also using the grounds glanced at Y/N with barely contained humor before they turned back to their swords and shields.

It had only been a handful of months since the wedding and it seemed like everything and everyone had settled into a new sort of peace the Seven Kingdoms had not seen in centuries. Everything had been worth it.

She would gladly do it all again if it meant she had this.

Oberyn swept her into his arms and lazily pressed his mouth to hers as she laughed. “It is too cold and too early to have you slip away from our bed.” He dragged his lips down her throat to nip at her skin. “I thought I had thoroughly exhausted you last night—Ellaria still slumbers.”

Y/N chuckled and let him pull her a little closer before all but starting to drag her back into the fortress. In truth, she had been thoroughly exhausted last night—and many nights before that, too. The three had finally found the perfect way to touch and fuck and kiss without one needing to sidle themselves with simply watching (although, Y/N was always happy to do that).

But the mornings always came too soon and for the past fortnight, she would wake just after dawn feel strange. Not ill. But unpleasantly warm and almost itchy within her skin. The only remedy she could find was a light breakfast and fresh air. She would walk with Gryves along the shore and happily let him splash and soak her skirts, or she would take him through the orange groves and let him chase the last few birds that had not yet left. He was a good and faithful hound. No matter how free she—or Dorea or Loreza—let him roam, he would always turn back every few paces to make sure they were still there. His cold nose would greet her every morning. Gryves was either snuggled up into her side or sneaking out of Loreza’s room when the sun rose each morning. Oberyn once grumbled that the dog seemed to always find a way to separate him and Y/N or him and Ellaria during the night with his giant, furry body and Oberyn would, more often than not, find himself with a mouth full of black fur or a giant paw pushing into his stomach.

But Gryves had been acting strange. For the last handful of mornings, he did not barge ahead during their quiet walks but rather stuck to her side, his large head swiveling from side to side as if he were searching for something, guarding her.

Y/N brushed it off as the pup still finding his footing in Winter. Some blossomed, others wilted. She knew he would blossom—first winters were always a bit tenuous.

This was not the first Winter the Seven Kingdoms had weathered and it would not be the last. But it could be prosperous. Far more prosperous than the handful of years prior that had only seen war and death.

Young Shireen Baratheon—the last Baratheon—had stabilized the Stormlands and held her family’s seat of Storm’s End with a firm grasp but was still beloved by the smallfolk of her kingdom. Robb had been glad to grant clemency to Shireen and name her heir of Storm’s End after she appeared before the Iron Throne with Ser Davos Seaworth at her back to swear fealty.

The little lady who had survived Greyscale, the War of the Five Kings, and then fleeing into the wilderness of the North, had risen to become one of the most beloved and adored women of the Realm.

And even more missives came from the capital. Robb had asked for Sarella to take the Dornish Seat on the Small Council, and asked Olenna to be the Master of Coin. The Realm was finding its footing under King Robb and Queen Margaery’s careful guidance.

The Lords of the Vale had sworn fealty to Robb after the Battle of King’s Landing and there might have been a raven or two arriving at the Red Keep before the envoy from the Vale arrived. The Vale, as Y/N remembered, still knew how to play the Game. Robb had quickly lopped Petyr Baelish’s head from his shoulders when he arrived at the Red Keep to offer his ‘services’ to the new King.

Baelish’s betrayal of Eddard Stark had been, Y/N discovered, what Tyrion offered to Robb in exchange for his life. Tyrion learned of Baelish’s schemes and told Robb that his family still had an enemy high in the Mountains of the Vale.

The Lords of the Vale had also been quick to tell the new king that Baelish was suspect of Lysa’s ‘unnatural’ death and Sweetrobin was now under the guidance of Royce, the regent Petyr had begrudgingly named before setting off toward King’s Landing. It was all very quick and messy and continued to solidify Robb’s reputation as a benevolent king with a savage streak.

Y/N couldn’t be more proud of her cousin.

But sometimes he still had the uncanny ability to still bother her like a brother.

Robb had sent a raven only yesterday to ask if Oberyn, Ellaria, and Y/N would be his envoy to Essos, to treat with the Dragon Queen to solidify trade routes and the like. It would be a large undertaking and immensely important as Robb wanted to be sure his new subjects were fed during the Winter that could potentially last years and to send a Dornish envoy was a sign of respect and gratitude—at in least Doran’s eyes who told Oberyn to accept the summons.

Oberyn said he would sleep on it but Y/N knew he wanted to ask Ellaria her opinion before making a decision. Y/N had already told him it was his choice. She had made enough decisions that had impacted their family.

Gryves nosed at her hip and she only then noticed that she had slowed to a stop with her toes just within the cold reach of the Summer Sea’s seafoam, soaking the edges of her dressing gown. The large dog whined.

“I’m okay,” Y/N said, scratching him behind his ears but he whined again and then gently bit at her dressing gown, tugging her back toward the fortress. Y/N scowled as she felt her stomach clench but tried to press a smile to her face as she walked by the small group of guards she, admittedly, didn’t remember passing earlier. Gryves also greeted them with a happy yip and received a few scritches behind his ears before quickly moving back to Y/N’s side as they moved closer to the fortress’ familiar shadows.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

She had only a moment to brace before Loreza’s tiny yet surprisingly solid body ran straight at her legs, wrapping her arms around her hips with a giggle. “You are up early, little one,” Y/N said, letting her hands curl around the girl’s shoulders as Gryves happily sniffed at the girl’s shoes in greeting.

“Papa said we’re going on an adventure!” She exclaimed as she jumped back, hopping in place in excitement.

“An adventure?” Y/N repeated with a smile, knowing exactly what Loreza was announcing—he made his decision, apparently. Oberyn had decided to take Robb’s assignment—and take along his daughters, too. Not that his decision was a surprise in any regard. There was no way he would leave his daughters behind again.

“Across the Narrow Sea!” As Loreza continued to excitedly explain all the details of the ‘adventure,’ Y/N caught sight of Oberyn leaning against one of the marble pillars, smiling as his youngest looked up at her, nearly vibrating with joy. “Obella says the Dragon Queen is pretty—but she lets her dragons eat people!”

Y/N bit her tongue for a moment before making a mental note to speak with Obella and maybe let her know that exaggerating the truth with Loreza might be entertaining, it was not a pastime to be encouraged when the little one had a wild imagination and was prone to nightmares already. “Her dragons are fond of goats, Loreza, and I know she keeps them well-fed. Obella is simply teasing you,” Y/N said, repeating the information she had managed to gather from a certain little lion who had managed to build a new life in Essos. Tyrion, it seemed, still had a soft spot for Y/N—and maybe learning that Jaime was alive, and at his side, because Y/N and Arya had King Robb’s ear might have given him a little more incentive to help her.

Loreza’s bottom lip jutted out, as if a little upset that she was no longer in danger of being eaten, but then giggled as Gryves licked at her fingers, quietly demanding to be pet. “Do you think I’ll be able to see one?”

“I am sure we will be able to see one if Her Grace wants to meet with us, little one,” Y/N said.

Loreza nodded, already too engrossed in Gryves’ affections to truly listen to Y/N’s words. “I should like to see a dragon, you know.”

Y/N was not sure if Loreza’s words were meant for her or Gryves but she hummed in acknowledgement and then settled into Oberyn’s warm embrace as his arms wrapped around her waist from the back and Loreza finally noticed her father and giggled up at him, still happily letting Gryves take most of her attention and affections.

“You’re up early,” Y/N hummed, turning her head just enough to press a kiss to his sharp jaw.

“Not as early as you, my moonlight,” he murmured, squeezing her around the middle. “And it seems my daughter has beat me to my grand reveal.”

“Sorry, papa,” Loreza said, still focused on Gryves, not sorry at all.

Oberyn hummed and kissed Y/N’s neck. “What say you, wife? One more adventure?”

Y/N watched Loreza scurry away with Gryves and let herself sink a little more into her husband’s hold. “I’ve always wanted to go to Essos.”

Oberyn’s lips skirted across her pulse. “I want to take you to Pentos when we are finished with our business with the Dragon Queen. I want you to know where your mother came from, to know her as she knew you.”

Tears Y/N didn’t know she had suddenly burned at the back of her eyes and she turned to press her forehead against his shoulder, grabbing fistfuls of his loose robes and breathing in the scent of him and blinked back the strange show of emotion. “You are a good man, Oberyn.”

His hold tightened. “Only for the ladies of my life.”

**

The sea did not agree with Y/N.

The constant swaying of the boat had her stomach rolling from the time she woke until lunch and Ellaria was always quick to press a cooled cloth to her cheeks and force a bit of juice into her stomach along with dry bread in an attempt to help while Oberyn was adamant she try to sleep as much as she could. Elia and Obara did tease Y/N at their nightly dinners on the polished deck—“you’re the sea-sick serpent,” was their favorite jape and never failed to make her smile. Tyene offered some sparkling, pink drink with a small smile and a quiet murmur that she wasn’t fond of traveling by sea either. The concoction tasted like honey and citrus and rolled her stomach for only a moment before granting Y/N a few hours reprieve each day they were aboard the large ship. Oberyn and Ellaria quickly made use of those few hours to sequester themselves in the dark cabin and let themselves indulge in carnal desires that Y/N was more than happy to partake in. Oberyn and Ellaria always left her panting and sated—and with a pillow under her hips and laughter on their lips. It was…wonderful in a beautifully chaotic way. They would talk in hushed whispers and quiet laughs until one of them—usually Y/N—fell asleep.

While the company was good, Y/N was thankful that Queen Daenerys had been willing to meet them in Myr instead of her usual seat of power of Mereen in Dragon’s Bay. It took several weeks off their travel time and Y/N was much too pleased to step out onto the wooden boards of the gangplank and she felt something solid under her feet for the first time since they had departed from Sunspear.

A large group was waiting at the docks, bedecked in white and purple silks with black leathers and a three-headed dragon pin over their hearts.

“Welcome to the Stormborn Empire,” a man said with a tip of his head. “Queen Daenerys has asked that you follow us to the palace.”

Ellaria stepped to her side and linked their arms together with a smile as Oberyn dealt with the emissaries with his usual bravado with Sallera at his side and Obara at his back. “Another adventure, hm?” Ellaria murmured.

“Yes,” Y/N said, feeling a touch of excitement in her stomach instead of sea sickness. “Let’s make the most of it.”

Myr was a city of science and art and the markets they moved through glittered with finery and Y/N tried to make a note of the stalls she wanted to peruse if they ever had a chance to leave the palace between meetings with the Queen. Nymeria was already haggling with a merchant over a filigreed dagger with a pearl-encrusted hilt. The air was crisp with the scent of the sea, foreign spices, and expensive perfumes and Y/N breathed it in, tilting her head back to feel the sun’s warmth on her face for the first time in this strange land.

But a shadow passed across the sun and had Y/N blinking in confusion toward the sky. She was dreaming—she was sure of it. A large black dragon nearly blotted out the sun with its massive wingspan, only needing to flap its wings once to stay airborne as it continued toward the gleaming white-stone palace a few paces north.

A dragon. A real dragon.

Y/N listened to Loreza nearly screech with excitement as Dorea and Obella gasped.

“She has three, does she not?” Ellaria said, also looking up. “I wonder what other marvels this land will hold for us.”

**

Daisy was still glowing; the smile she had at her wedding ceremony seemed now to be a permanent fixture on her face. Daemon seemed to be a bit lighter on his feet, too. He and Daisy were now Lord and Lady Sandstar, having been given the title and prestige of a House of Landed Knights and ‘legitimized’ name as a wedding gift from a grateful House Martell and the reigning king and queen of Westeros. A small keep outside the Shadow City was also given but the newlyweds still spent most of their time within Sunspear’s walls but both had accompanied the Martells to Myr.

“I have never been further east than Sunspear, Princess,” she said as she helped Y/N unpack their trunks despite Y/N her (repeatedly) it was not her duty any longer. “This is quite the adventure.”

A stern-looking older man had welcomed them into the “small” palace made entirely of white marble and sand-colored stone and said Queen Daenerys offered them grand apartments as they discussed trade agreements the following day. The man apologized on behalf of his queen, stating that Daenerys and her consort were away settling a small dispute within their large khalasar outside the city walls but would return by morning.

No one seemed to mind, happy to explore Myr and all its treasures for the rest of the day instead of having to collect themselves for hours-long discussions about trade and alliances.

The rooms they had been given were filled with velvet-lined pillows and cushions and fine silks and linens in an array of muted greens and soft tans. A sapphire blue pool was on the terrace and it sparkled in the sunlight while a looming persimmon tree provided a small bit of shade.

“I daresay I enjoy this sort of adventure much more than the ones we are accustomed to back in King’s Landing, no?” Y/N said with a small laugh.

Most everyone else had absconded to the city to find their own escapades before supper. Y/N promised Ellaria she would meet her and the little ones at the bazaar as soon as she was finished unpacking. Obara and Elia had tried to get Y/N to come to the training grounds to watch the famed Unsullied spar but had managed to agree to accompany them in the morning as a happy medium. Oberyn promised to show his older daughters where he spent his time in Myr when he was with the Second Sons but would meet everyone in the bazaar before sundown.

Daisy laughed and finished with the last trunk before linking her arm with Y/N’s, and leading her out of the pleasantly quiet castle and into the Myrish sunlight. And the day was pleasant. Ellaria and the girls were easily spotted and had filled their arms with fresh breads and fine linens—and even a few small dragon sculptures Dorea was particularly fond of.

“It is good to see you well again,” Daisy said as they looked over a stall of tapestries while they waited for Ellaria to help Obella haggle for a bracelet of hammered copper. “For a moment, I thought you were…” her eyes flittered around, as if trying to find some hidden threat until Y/N reached out and gently squeezed her hand. “I thought you might be truly ill. Your Prince was fretting the entire time, you know. Nearly scolded the captain every time a wave jostled the boat too much for his liking. He is still very much the Viper.”

Y/N simply smiled and shook her head. “He and Ellaria are too good to me.”

“They treat you as you deserve, Princess. Just as you treat them. They will sing songs of your love in the years to come, I know it.”

Ellaria turned and held up a bolt of yellow lace with a smile and a wink in Y/N’s direction and Y/N had to laugh, remembering the yellow dress that had essentially started it all.

Something hit her nose—something acrid and curdled and Y/N had to hurriedly press a hand over her mouth to keep herself from spewing the contents of her stomach across the stone walkway.

“Princess?”

Y/N waved away Daisy’s concern and tried to pull in a steadying breath as she screwed her eyes shut as if that would stop the rolling of her stomach. And then as soon as it came, it passed. “I am fine, Daisy. My stomach is still acclimating to solid ground, it seems.” Daisy seemed unconvinced but nodded as Y/N tried to smile again. She spotted Oberyn with his older daughters, slowly making their way toward Ellaria and the little ones. All of them were cast in the dying, golden light of the day, making them look like some beautiful, moving painting that should be hung in the halls of a palace or sept for all to see.

This was her family.

Y/N pulled in a breath and waved as Dorea proudly held another tiny Morningstar above her head, victorious. While she had forgotten her beloved weapon at home (and had pouted about it for nearly the entire first day aboard the ship), it seemed Dorea had found a suitable replacement.

Hopefully she wouldn’t break anything in Queen Daenerys’ palace before the trade agreements were completed.

Oberyn’s beautiful brown eyes tracked across the crowded walkway before landing on her. A familiar smile pushed up his plush lips and Y/N found herself mirroring his grin even as an odd sensation started to pull at the back of her mind. Oberyn’s smile died and he was shoving his way through the crowd as the world suddenly went dark.

**

Y/N woke with a start, barely registering the unfamiliar bed before she emptied her stomach into a brass pot on the floor. Ellaria was at her side in a moment, rubbing soothing circle into her back as her stomach continued to roll.

Oberyn stepped into her line of vision with a glass of deep purple juice that smelled of something sweet. Y/N took the glass and drank it without preamble to rid her mouth of the taste of bile.

“I thought we were done surprising each other, my moonlight,” he said softly, his hand joining Ellaria’s on her back.

“What happened?”

“You fainted,” Ellaria said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to Y/N’s temple. “Nearly opened your skull on the stone if not for Daisy’s quick hands to steady you.”

“I thought sea-sickness would have stopped after we docked.” Her poor attempt at a joke only made Oberyn sigh, a small smile now starting to pull at the corners of his mouth.

“You are not sick,” he said.

“Oh?” Confusion washed over her as Oberyn took the empty glass from her hands as a servant dealt with the brass pot. Ellaria moved to sit beside her on the bed as Oberyn mirrored her action, boxing Y/N in with their familiar warmth.

“You are with child, my love.” Her hands settled against Y/N’s stomach with a smile. “A prince or princess of Dorne grows just here.”

Oberyn nuzzled into Y/N’s neck and the smile she felt against her pulse had her laughing.

“A baby? Are you certain?”

Ellaria nodded with tears glistening in her eyes and Y/N placed her hands over hers and squeezed. “Queen Daenerys’ own healer saw to you after we brought you here. He confirmed it. You will be due in a handful of moons.”

Tears filled her eyes and she let out a watery laugh, her hands continuing to squeeze Ellaria’s. “A baby. We certainly wasted no time.”

Oberyn and Ellaria laughed at that, earning her a pair of kisses to her cheeks before Ellaria gently brushed her tears away. “No tears, my love. Only joy. And you must promise to tell us if you are feeling ill. We cannot have you fainting again.”

“I promise.”

The three spoke for a little longer, in soft tones about the future and how she will look “wondrous, ethereal, when you start to show, my moonlight” and how loved the babe already was by all of them.

But then a silly, almost childish thought crossed her mind. “Will you still take me to Pentos?”

Oberyn leaned in to press his smiling mouth against her forehead. “I will take you anywhere you desire, my moonlight. You are giving us a most precious gift; I will give you anything you desire.”

**

The Dragon Queen was a petite woman with the same look as her ancestors—silver hair and purple eyes. At her back stood Gaelor, a tall man with the same Valyrian characteristics and his mouth set in a firm line. Her consort, some nobleman of the Blood of Old Valyria and a man of few words except to make his wife smile if the whispers she’d heard were true.

Y/N was almost giddy to be able to speak in her mother’s tongue and to speak with Daenerys in hers. Bastard and High Valyrian were much easier for her mouth anyway, and she loved that she could finally find a way to tease Oberyn and Ellaria in her own way. Both of them knew enough High Valyrian to understand most of what she was saying—and paid back in kind with heated kisses in shadowed corners between meetings with Daenerys and her advisors—which seemed to go swimmingly, if Y/N had anything to say about it. Oberyn and Sarella were master negotiators and Ellaria was always quick to offer a kind smile and differing opinion when tensions ran a bit too high with a handful of the Dragon Queen’s advisors and kept the conversation flowing.

When they adjourned the meeting for the third day and she did not have any other set plans, Y/N found herself mostly drawn to Queen Daenerys’ Hand, a woman with delicate features and beautiful eyes named Missandei. Y/N asked her to share a bit of time and tea with her if she was amiable—and she was, much to Y/N’s relief. Within only a handful of hours, Y/N found Missandei to be perhaps the most intelligent and compassionate person she had ever met. Listening to her speak of Daenerys’ campaign across Essos, building her empire from the Bone Mountains to the shores of the Narrow Sea (leaving on Braavos out from under her rule, knowing the Braavosi had had their fair share of Valyrian overlords), had taken most of the day and into the night and the discussion turned from political machinations to how they both found homes in foreign lands—there was something so beautifully enrapturing about her and Y/N did not miss how Missandei’s gentle eyes would sparkle whenever Grey Worm, Daenerys’ most trusted sword (aside from the former Kingsguard Knight Ser Barristan), would step into the room to whisper something or other into a different guard’s ear as the rotation continued.

“I have kept you from each other in my selfish desire to hear your stories, Lady Missandei. I apologize. Please, take your leave. I did not mean to keep you so long.”

Missandei shook her head. “It was a welcome reprieve from court, Princess. I truly did not mind.”

The door opened again and Y/N let her smile break across her face as Grey Worm once again entered the room. “You may not have minded, but I would be so bold to assume that there is someone who might require your presence more than I do.” Y/N gestured toward Grey Worm who was whispering into the out-going guard but his kind, dark eyes would ever so briefly flitter to Missandei.

The royal adviser smiled and shook her head but she did not deny it.

“Our conversation has been a joy but I will never keep you from someone who makes you smile like that,” Y/N said as she reached out to gently squeeze her hands. “I will see you in the morn.”

Missandei nodded and they whispered their goodnights before Grey Worm stepped to their side and held out a hand for Missandei to take, gently helping her up from her seat.

Y/N eventually found her way back to her rooms and undressed before sliding under the blankets to press against Oberyn’s warm back and kiss his shoulder as he reached back to grab one of her hands and kiss her fingers before holding her hand over his heart. “Goodnight, my moonlight.”

**

On the last day of their Myrish political adventure, Y/N found herself once again waking before her pair of loves and quietly snuck out of her rooms to wander the palace’s halls as her stomach rolled lightly but the fresh air settled it for the most part. She smiled at a few of the quietly moving servants who were preparing for the day in the inky blue light of dawn and managed to find the kitchens and was readily given a small bowl of berries and a cup of juice by an older cook with a gentle smile who spoke softly to Y/N in Valyrian as she kneaded dough for the day. Y/N eventually excused herself as the kitchens grew more and more crowded with people arriving for their duties and she wandered out toward one of the balconies that looked out over the heart of the city.

There was a thunderous roar overhead just as she settled into a lacquered chair and Y/N watched Drogon soar over the city, in awe of the beautiful creature.

Daenerys had been kind enough to indulge Y/N the day before and walked with her out to where her three sons were nesting and gently coaxed Drogon out before letting Y/N feel the strangely warm and shining black scales beneath her palm. The large dragon huffed and pressed his large snout against her belly.

“They can tell when you are with child,” Daenerys said with a smile, letting her dainty hand run up and down her favorite dragon’s neck. “They become very protective. If you had stayed any longer, I would have to worry that he would not let you leave.”

And, as strange as it seemed, it reminded Y/N of Gryves. He must have sensed the change before even she did—and that is why he had been so careful around her before they had left Sunspear. She knew he was in good company at the Water Gardens with Doran and Trystane, probably getting fed fine steak every night.

“Hello,” a soft voice said, gaining Y/N’s attention.

Y/N turned and spotted a young girl, no older than three and a mirror image of her mother with silver-gold hair—mussed and tangled with sleep—and amethyst-colored eyes. “Hello, princess.” While Daenerys had kept her daughter mostly away from the meetings, the little girl had been known to flit in and out of the room to sit on her parents’ laps and nap whenever she felt like it.

“May I have a berry?” Her little hand was already raised to pluck one from the bowl.

“Of course,” Y/N said, letting her take a juicy red berry from the pile. “You are up early.”

The girl nodded and happily popped the berry between her lips and chewed. “I heard mother’s dragons. They wake me up almost every day.” She sighed loudly and then invited herself onto Y/N’s lap before taking another berry. “Mother said I will be able to fly one, one day.”

“I’m sure you will, Princess,” Y/N said with a smile.

The pair spoke for a little longer—mostly about how the little princess hoped Rhaegal would be her dragon as the sun continued to rise and make Myr start to glitter—before there was a soft sound of sandaled feet on stone met her ears. Y/N turned to see the Dragon Queen walking in, a soft smile on her face as she spotted her daughter in Y/N’s arms.

“Rhaella,” Daenerys sang out the name, stretching out her arms and letting the small child run into her hold after she wiggled off Y/N’s lap. “She was not bothering you, I hope.”

Y/N stood and shook her head. “Of course not. We were simply enjoying some berries together and watching the sun rise.” Y/N held out the bowl of berries and let Rhaella take another, a bit of purple juice running down her chin before her mother wiped it away and kissed her cheek.

Y/N briefly wondered if her child would look more like her or Oberyn; would she have quiet mornings like this once they were born? Watching the sun rise over the Summer Sea and eating berries in the quiet morning air?

“Will you join us for breakfast? If you have not had your fill of berries?”

**

The final discussion about the trade agreements was supposed to simply formalities and signing of the written treaties but had devolved into another argument between Daenerys’ advisors and Oberyn who differed on how each side would keep to their agreements.

“There must be some sort of tie, a true bond, make sure they keep their side of the agreement when Winter comes to Essos. If Prince Oberyn had any sons, they might make a suitable consort to Princess Rhaella. Or if he had thought to consult his king, we might have avoided this diatribe entirely—how can they be a true envoy for Westeros if they are not even sure if King Robb and Queen Margaery have heirs to be used as-”

Daenerys waved her hand and effectively halted any other words her advisor might have said on the subject. “Children will not be used as pawns.”

And Y/N let out a breath she did not know she was holding and Oberyn curled his fingers over her thigh for comfort. “A welcome reprieve from the usual trappings, Your Grace. Thank you.”

But Y/N’s gaze flittered over to the advisor whose pasty white skin was growing redder with each passing moment. And perhaps Y/N would blame her sudden anger on her constantly rolling emotions, but she simply had never liked the pale-faced advisor and his constant sneering at Oberyn, Ellaria, and their daughters and she had reached a breaking point. “Forgive me, but it seems not all present share your sentiment. Do you have more to say? It would seem you think you are the one we are to be negotiating with, instead of Her Grace.”

Sarella nudged her foot under the table, trying to fight a smile.

Daenerys, for the first time since they had arrived on Essos, looked like the battle-hardened conqueror the world knew her to be as she dragged her violet-colored gaze to her advisor, tiny hand nearly snapping the quill in her grasp. “You have embarrassed me and yourself enough,” she hissed in Valyrian. “You are only here as an act of goodwill toward Qarth who has overstepped time and time again. I want you out of my sight and out of the city.”

The advisor gaped as he stared at the queen—unmoving.

“Now.”

When he continued to not move, two Unsullied marched to the back of his chair and yanked him to his feet as he sputtered over his next breath and panicked apologies soon followed—even after he was dragged out of the hall.

Daenerys took a quiet but deep breath before letting another small smile push at her lips. “I apologize for the interruption. Now, I do not see why the Seven Kingdoms would not hold up their end of the agreement when Winter comes to Essos. I know House Martell honors their promises, even if previous generations of House Targaryen was not worthy of them.”

And then Oberyn’s fingers tightened on Y/N’s thigh for his own comfort. But Daenerys’ sentiment was genuine.

“We will provide for each other—as friends and allies across the Narrow Sea.”

Oberyn, Ellaria, and Y/N each grabbed their chalices—filled with wine or juice—and raised them toward Daenerys. “To the Dragon Queen!”

**

The great hall of the Myrish palace was alive with music and dancing and the air smelled sweet with wine. Dorea and Loreza were currently each holding one of Y/N’s hands and they simply swayed to the music, almost on beat as Tyene teased them for lack of coordination as she spun around them on the arm of some nobleman who was already besotted. Obara and Elia were speaking with a handful of Unsullied near a table filled with honey cakes and persimmons while Obella and Oberyn danced—much more gracefully a few couples away. Sarella and Nymeria had, unsurprisingly, found their way to Daenerys’ side and the three were speaking as if they were old friends.

Y/N spotted Grey Worm gently take Missandei’s hand and lead her in a dance. It was good to see almost everyone enjoying the bit of festivities Daenerys had insisted upon. It was an oddly docile end to a slightly chaotic trip but she was happy to not have any other stressors—Ellaria had threatened to put her on bedrest until the baby was born if she fainted again.

The song finished with a muted flourish and Y/N’s two partners darted away toward the honey cakes. Y/N was quickly offered a cup of juice—a blend Daenerys had been fond of when she was with child—and thanked the servant as she looked over the small crowd. Tomorrow they would sail for Pentos for a handful of days before making their way back to Dorne. Ships filled with food were already on the way to Westeros, bearing the seals of the Stormborn Empire.

It was a triumph, to be sure.

But she simply wanted to be back in Dorne, wrapped up in her familiar blankets and her husband and paramour’s arms, listening to the girls laugh in the halls as the waves crashed against the shore and her beloved hound napped near her feet.

And it was a solace to know that it would be happening soon. She would not cut their trip short—seeing Pentos and bringing the girls to see it too was an adventure she knew needed to happen.

“You look pensive, my moonlight,” Oberyn said, slinking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “It is a joyous night.”

“It is,” she agreed, leaning into his grasp. Both of them noticed Ellaria, draped in a fiery red gossamer gown—a gift from Daenerys—was dancing with Gaelor.

Gaelor smiled—just for a moment—at something Ellaria whispered in his ear.

“She can rend smiles from stone,” Oberyn mused with a smile of his own.

“You know, Robb could have simply sent Ellaria and Sarella for this—they are the true negotiators.”

Oberyn’s chest rumbled with a poorly contained laugh. “True, my moonlight. But I am happy to have this adventure with you and Ellaria, with my girls.” He pulled her a little closer then made her sway to the music, a laugh bubbling from her throat. “Now, tell me. What has you brooding?”

Y/N continued to sway with him and let her hands rest over his arms as they held her tight. “I miss Dorne. I miss home.” She paused and grimaced. “It sounds silly when I say it aloud.”

Oberyn turned his face just enough to press his lips against her throat. “It is not silly. Wanting to return home is natural. Do you want to set sail-”

“No, no, my love. I want to see Pentos—as do the girls. I will not take that opportunity away. I doubt we will have a Stormborn escort if we return later. It is better to do it now—before we have another little one.”

“If you are sure,” he said, face still tucked against her throat.

“I am sure,” Y/N said with another squeeze to his arms as the music continued to play. “One more adventure before we welcome the newest little snake to our brood. It will be good. I know it.”

**

Pentos was beautiful—as Y/N knew it would be. Her mother and grandparents’ stories had filled her head with pictures of how it would look, what it would be like—what she would encounter. And she spent a few melancholy moments wondering if her mother walked the same streets as she did. She wondered if her grandparents would recognize the city as it was now, under Daenerys’ new rule.

But, yes, Pentos was beautiful. Fragrant with flowers and clean water and a bite of some spice Y/N could not name but recognized as it had clung to her grandmother’s dresses. The Magisters welcomed them into the city and made sure to house them in a palatial manse and were quick to get them anything they even glanced at while accompanying them throughout the bazaars.

Oberyn found it both hilarious and irksome to be so coddled.

“How am I supposed to ravish you in a dark city corner if we are being followed like disobedient children?”

“I think they would like the show, my love,” Ellaria said with a laugh.

Y/N snorted and shook her head. “You two are insatiable.”

“You were the reason our breakfast was served cold this morning, my moonlight.” His fingers danced down Y/N’s spine before pinching her butt with a smirk. “But you will never hear me complain about feeling Ellaria’s warmth around me and your tongue on my-”

Y/N smacked at his chest and shushed him as a group of children rushed by. “You seemed to enjoy it, my prince. But I will not do it again if you tell everyone.”

Ellaria laughed as Oberyn grinned wolfishly. “Every person in this Realm should know that I aim to please my lover and wife—no matter the hour.”

“You can commission a song when we are back in Dorne—but let us have some air of mystery while we are here, hm?” Y/N patted his stomach with a grin of her own.

“We could have a song for you here, Princess!” One of the Magisters said, nearly begging in his tone. “Our bards are legendary!”

Ellaria did little to conceal her laugh which soon had Y/N in stitches, too.

Yes, Pentos had changed. And perhaps she would want to visit again. But her mother had found a home in the Vale with her father. And Y/N had found a home in Dorne with Ellaria and Oberyn and their daughters.

And it was time to go home.

**

“There are two.”

“Two?” Y/N repeated, pitch rising in tone. “Two babies?” Her hands pressed against her stomach—quickly followed by Gryves’ cold snout, as if he could help soothe something. “Are you certain?”

The midwife nodded, a smile on her face. “You have been blessed.”

Y/N had wondered why her babe was constantly moving and kicking at her bladder and ribs at the same time—but it seemed they had conspired to move together.

“No wonder you are so irritable!” Obara dodged the slap Y/N aimed at her shoulder with a laugh. “Father is going to be pleased. An even ten.”

“Why are you even here?” Y/N asked, fighting a smile. “You are supposed to be helping Dorea with her Morningstar!”

“With Father and Ellaria away with Uncle Doran and Lady Daisy confined to her home with a cold, you know I wasn’t going to let you go to this alone.”

Tears filled Y/N’s eyes so swiftly it caught her off-guard and all she could say was a meager, “thank you,” in response to Obara’s gruff kindness.

“Don’t start crying—I’ll have to call Elia and you know she will only start crying, too. You know how excited she is for another little one—or two now, it seems.”

Y/N sniffled and nodded, “Yes, I know.” Gryves, sensing more duress, placed his head in Y/N’s lap and his big, black eyes looked up at her in worry.

As the midwife quietly excused herself, Obara awkwardly but sincerely tried to console the whimpering pregnant woman at her side with a few soft pats to her shoulder. “They will be good children—little hellions with father’s eyes and your penchant for trouble.”

“My penchant for trouble?” Y/N snorted through tears. “I am almost offended.”

It had been a quick pregnancy, if Y/N was honest. The months had flown by in a whirlwind of well-wishes, gifts from the other kingdoms, and a myriad of emotions that seemed to fling from one extreme to the other within in moments on some days. All that could truly calm her—or the babes down—was Oberyn and Ellaria and they were off with Doran, planning to host Robb and Margaery to celebrate the coming of Spring after a blessedly short Winter. Y/N had wanted to travel to the Water Gardens, too, but had found riding on Qēlos to be uncomfortable and the poor mare seemed to sense her duress and would stop every few paces and look back at Y/N in the saddle before they both deemed it impossible to ride until the baby had been delivered.

“They will be home soon,” Obara said gently with a squeeze to her shoulder. “Before nightfall—but with how anxious they were to leave you, I would not be surprised if they arrived earlier.”

One of the babies suddenly kicked and Y/N winced. “I do hope you’re right.”

And, of course, Obara was correct. Ellaria and Oberyn were all but sprinting into their chambers, arms laden with more gifts from Doran and more Dornish lords and ladies who wanted to lathe their well-wishes on the soon-to-be-born Martell. But all of them were dropped unceremoniously on the ground near the door as soon as they entered.

“My moonlight!” Oberyn nearly shouted before he dove onto their massive featherbed and pressed a quick kiss to her stomach before taking his time when his mouth reached hers, sighing against her lips. “We refuse to leave you again until the baby is born.”

“We could not concentrate on anything poor Doran needed for this silly little party,” Ellaria said, also sliding into the bed and stealing a kiss from Y/N’s lips. “I thought we would come back to Sunspear to see you with a babe on your breast.”

“You were gone for two days, my loves,” Y/N said with a small laugh, letting the pair continue to curl around her in the mess of blankets and pillows. “I would have sent someone if the midwife had said it was time.”

Oberyn hummed and kissed at her shoulder. “Even so, we are not leaving your side again.”

“But I do have news-”

“Is the baby healthy? What did the midwife say?” Ellaria asked in quick succession, hand splaying against Y/N’s stomach.

Y/N huffed out another laugh and placed one hand over Ellaria’s before reaching out to grasp Oberyn’s hand, too. “The midwife seems to think that we have been blessed.” The matching looks of confusion on Ellaria and Oberyn’s faces had another laugh bubbling in her throat. “They are healthy—no need to worry. But, she did give me some news.” And because she loved teasing the pair just a bit, she paused and watched a flurry of emotions pass over both their faces before ending their torment. “There are two babies.”

“Two?!” “TWINS?!” Oberyn and Ellaria’s voices reverberated in the room and had Y/N laughing like a drunkard until tears started to roll down her cheeks.

“Yes! Two!”

There was another shout that Y/N couldn’t quite understand but then two pairs of hands were pressing all over her stomach, followed by excited kisses and then her dressing gown was being pulled up to show her stomach and even more kisses were lathed against her warm skin.

Between happy sighs, almost-chaste kisses, and words of wonderment, clothes were shed and discarded across the bed and floor and lingering touches became more ardent. Lips lingered. Tasted. And they once again found ecstasy in each other’s arms. Oberyn kissed between Y/N’s heaving breasts as he finished, and then kissed her lips, still tasting of Ellaria who was panting beside them, surrounded by the feathers that had been ripped from the pillows only a few moments prior.

“You are a force of nature, my moonlight.”

“A storm to behold,” Ellaria whispered, sliding closer to also steal a kiss between their lips.

Y/N smiled against his mouth and tugged at the mussed ends of his hair at the nape of his neck. “And you two helped unleash me unto the world. And now there will be two more.”

Ellaria and Oberyn’s matching smiles took her breath away again for the umpteenth time that day as they gazed down at her. “And the world is theirs for the taking.”

**

Y/N knew the birth would be painful. She knew it could last days. Maesters and septas and midwives had all tried to tell her what this would entail—but nothing had prepared her for the frantic pacing of Oberyn or the gentle guidance of Ellaria as she sat at her side.

“You are nearly there, my love, I know it,” Ellaria cooed, pushing the sweat-soaked hair away from her forehead. “You can do it.”

She screamed with the last few pushes, hearing her blood roar in her ears and then…

“A girl!” Daisy said—it was quickly followed by, “and a boy!”

“A boy?” Y/N asked, head swimming. She has not thought of the possibility of a boy. Oberyn always seemed to have girls—girls is what she had been expecting. Not a boy. A son.

For a moment, Y/N panicked.

But she looked at Oberyn as Daisy handed him his son and his face split into a smile, she knew she should have never doubted his love for his children—even for a second. “A boy. How you keep surprising me, my moonlight.”

Her eyes drifted to Ellaria to see her cradling her baby girl with the same sweet smile even as the babe screamed and squirmed. “They are beautiful, my love,” Ellaria said softly. “Healthy.”

“That’s all I wanted,” Y/N said, feeling the midwife finish her duties before gently taking the twins from Oberyn and Ellaria and handing them to Y/N, propping her up against a mound of pillows and then quietly excusing herself for a moment. Y/N cradled both babes to her chest, letting them press their round little cheeks to her skin as they opened their little mouths in matching yawns, tried from their journey into the world.

“They need names, my moonlight.”

“And they shall have them—but let me just look at them for a little longer.”

**

“Lewyn! Rohanne!”

“Coming mama!” Came the answering chorus from the orange groves.

Nearly five years had passed since she had brought the smallest Martells into the world. Five wondrous, exhausting years filled with tears, laughter, and change.

The children called both Y/N and Ellaria ‘mama’ and Oberyn ‘papa.” Harmen Uller was their grandfather who spoiled them rotten, just as he did with Elia, Obella, Dorea, and Loreza. The twins’ older sisters were also fond of making sure they had everything and anything their little hearts desired while Doran and Trystane doted on them as well. Gryves had taken to sleeping between their beds, a quiet sentinel who would often wake them up with licks to their tiny feet as the sun started to rise if he was not tucked away in Dorea or Loreza's rooms.

Patrek had come to Dorne to formally court Obara, much to her amused chagrin. They were married in a small ceremony and spent their time at Sunspear until the last vestiges of Winter had thoroughly melted—and promised they would return if there was even a brisk wind.

Tyene and Nymeria found themselves invited to be part of Daenerys’ court in Essos, as part of the growing alliance between Westeros and her Empire. They wrote often and both seemed to have cultivated their own little kingdom there too, filled with beautiful men and women who loved to keep their ladies happy and who helped them rule over Qarth in Daenerys’ name.

Sarella quickly became a powerful advisor at court in King’s Landing and had been named Mistress of Whispers on the Small Council for Robb and Margaery’s rule. Elia continued to train alongside her family’s guards and had even started competing in tourneys and unseating seasoned knights with her trusted lance. Oberyn and Ellaria always cheered the loudest when she was victorious. Obella took advantage of Robb allowing women to attend the Citadel and forged four links before, like her father, grew bored and then took the Dornish seat on the Small Council which Sarella had vacated. Dorea and Loreza were still managing to evade their septa and maesters during their lessons but mostly behaved themselves, maturing more each day.

Daisy and Daemon had welcomed a little boy just a few moons ago and the happy, little family had taken to resting in their manse for a few weeks to enjoy the new babe. Sansa had recently married to a Northern lord and had welcomed Arya and Gendry back to Winterfell--along with their daughter. Robb and Margaery had recently celebrated their daughter's second birthday and announced that another heir was on the way to the delight of the realm.

Two little bodies slammed into Y/N’s legs and nearly leveled her, four tiny arms wrapping around her thighs and tangling with the ruby red fabric of her dress. Matching dark brown eyes stared up at her, sparkling in the sunlight—just like their father’s did. Both of them had streaks of blood orange juices across their cherubic cheeks and were probably staining her skirts, too.

“I thought we promised to not sneak more oranges before meals, hm?” Y/N asked, wiping away a little bit from their skin.

Gryves trotted up behind them, looking proud with a large stick between his teeth.

“Well, Gryves went into the orchards, mama!” Rohanne said, plump bottom lip jutting out—a face she knew would allow her to get away with murder with her father. “We had to follow him to make sure he was safe.”

“Last time, he almost fell in the pool,” Lewyn said, trying to bolster his sister’s argument.

“He knows how to swim, my love. Better than you.”

The twins looked at each other for a moment and then back up at their mother. “Do you want an orange?” Rohanne stuck her little hand into the folds of her dress and produced a blood orange nearly as big as her head like a peace offering. “We saved this one for you.”

Y/N took it with a smile and bent to give each of them a kiss on a sticky cheek. “No lemon cakes tonight after supper.”

“But mama!” They cried.

“You two already had something sweet. You know the rules.” Y/N saw Rohanne starting to plot an argument but Lewyn nudged her and shook his head. He was the quieter of the two, happy to follow his sister’s lead in most situations but also knew when to play the long game, knowing how to pick his imaginary battles when Rohanne wanted to pick all of them. They were quite the pair—and Y/N would not change them for all the gold in the world.

“My little vipers!” Oberyn suddenly swooped in and hauled the twins into his hold kissing all over their cheeks as they squealed and giggled before pausing. “You taste of blood oranges.”

“Sneaking sweets again?” Ellaria laughed as she stepped to Y/N’s side and kissing her softly.

“They taste good, mama!” Rohanne said with another pout, turning in her father’s grip to look at Ellaria.

“I know they do, my love. But you eat too many and turn your stomach. There are rules for a reason.”

“I told you they would notice,” Lewyn murmured, dark eyes cutting to his twin.

Oberyn laughed and kissed them both on the cheek again before bending to let them down. “Go wash up before supper.”

“Yes, papa!” They chimed before dashing away.

The three watched them go, unknowing matching smiles on their faces. “They are going to be such a handful when they’re older.”

“I have no doubt they’ll follow in our footsteps.”

Ellaria chuckled and kissed Oberyn and Y/N’s cheeks. “We have a great many adventures ahead of us still, my loves. But first we have to get them to eat dinner.”

And the three slowly walked back toward the palace, listening to their children's laughter ring in the air.

A/N: And that’s all she wrote, folks! Please let me know what you think!

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book One: Gold (Prompto x Reader) Chapter VIII

Prompto placed one of his hands on the back of her neck, holding her in place as he basked in the softness of her lips. When she didn't push him away, he deepened the kiss. However, he snapped out of his blissful revere a few seconds later and immediately pulled away. He stumbled backwards, realizing he'd push himself on to her. "I-I-I..." Prompto tripped over his own feet and landed on his butt. He sat up, running his hands frantically through his blonde locks. "Six, why did I do that?! I-I'm so sorry, (Y/n)!"

The girl stood up and approached him. She squatted down in front of him, smiling. "Calm down. There's no need to apologize, Prom." She took his hands out of his hair and held them gently with hers. "I do want to know... What did that kiss mean?"

"W-Well..." Prompto casted his gaze to the ground, unable to look her in the eye. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down so he could say those three important words. He grasped her hands, exhaling with a shaky sigh. "For a long time, I've...I've really liked you. More than a friend. You've been there for me through thick and thin. You never gave up on me and you're still by side even now. I mean, I have Noct and the others, but they aren't you. I know I haven't been the easiest person to live with all these years, but I-I'm glad you've decided to stick around. I haven't had the easiest life, but you made every moment worth while. You're irreplaceable to me. I...I love you, (Y/n)."

(Y/n) clung to every word, taking each one to heart. She remembered every memory she's made with Prompto, cherishing them all. She may have been bound to him because of her status as his guardian, but those memories were made because she cares deeply about him and was infatuated with him. Even if she wasn't his guardian, she would still dedicate herself to him because of how much she cares for him. He too was irreplaceable.

The girl smiled warmly at Prompto. "You've made my life worth while, as well. I cherish every second we've been together and wouldn't trade them for the world. For the longest time, I convinced myself that you were a human and someone who deserved better than me. But still, I found myself falling for you as the days passed. I'm so happy you feel the same way. I love you too, Prompto."

Tears of joy sprang from Prompto's eyes. He grabbed (Y/n)'s hands and tugged her towards him. She lost her balance and fell against him just as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He embraced her tightly, burying his face into the crook of her neck and thanking her for loving him over and over again. She placed her hands on his back, trailing her fingers up and down his spine.

(Y/n) pulled away just enough to move her hands from Prompto's back to his cheeks. Sitting on her knees between his legs, she cupped his cheeks in her palms and used her thumbs to wipe away his tears. Smiling, she leans forward and presses her forehead against his. Her golden eyes darted down to his lips for a split second before locking with his cerulean ones. She didn't hesitate to lean in closer and press her lips against his, kissing him sweetly.

It was a brief yet intoxicating kiss. (Y/n) pulled away a few seconds later after noticing the many questionable stares they were receiving from bystanders. She got to her feet, offering to help Prompto off the ground. When he placed his hands in hers, she pulled him to his feet with a smile. "As much as I would love to continue this, we have to meet up with the others. Ready to go?"

Prompto nodded, smiling. "Yeah."

The duo walked down the road a little ways away from the Cauthess Rest Area. (Y/n) transformed and Prompto climbed onto her back. He pulled out his phone and checked Ignis' directions, sharing them with the guardian. Knowing they had just ate, the fox gently trotted in the direction of Aracheole Stronghold. She refused to use the roads in order to prevent another ambush like yesterday. They ran into many packs of voretooths and sabertusks while traveling through nature, but they fled at the sight of the spirit.

Once arriving at Sothmocke Haven, Prompto sighed in relief when seeing the others were safe. He slid off (Y/n)'s back and ran towards his friends. The fox reverted back to her human form, joining the blonde.

"So, what'd we miss?" Prompto asked.

"Besides a talking daemon and other two runestones, nothing much," Noctis shrugged his shoulders. "What about you guys?" He glanced between his best friend and guardian.

"We kicked some imperial ass! Well, only some. There were way too many to handle by ourselves." Prompto slung an arm over the girl's shoulders and pulled her into his side. "(Y/n)'s the reason why we were able to escape without so much as a scratch."

"What took you both so long to get here, then?" Gladio inquired.

"We were hiding from the empire and Prompto's phone was water-logged from the storm," (Y/n) answered. "We didn't see the messages until a couple hours ago."

"We are simply relieved you both are unscathed," Ignis said.

"The same goes for the rest of you. We were worried there for a little bit." The (h/c)-haired girl, once Prompto released her, turned around to face the stronghold. "So, what's the plan?"

"We were just about to discuss such matters."

Noctis, who was sitting in one of the chairs beside Gladio, looks up at his advisor. "So, any bright ideas, Ignis?"

"A dark one, as it were," Ignis stated. "A frontal assault would leave us exposed. But, if we move under cover of night, we might be able to infiltrate the base unnoticed."

"And until then?"

"We learn all we can about the base's design and narrow down the Regalia's location. I'll analyze what intelligence we have available to find us a way in."

Noctis nodded. "Sounds good, Specs."

"All right! We're gonna get our wheels back!" Prompto cheered as he sat down in the chair beside Noctis. "Guess we gotta wait for night fall now." He pulled out his phone and booted up the King's Knight app. While waiting for it to load, his eyes drifted upward. They locked on to (Y/n)'s back and watched her every moment as she offered to help Ignis.

Noctis caught the blonde staring at the girl with a joyous smile etched across his face. "Did...something happen between you two?"

When Prompto realized he was talking to him, he did his best to look everywhere but at (Y/n). "Why would you think that?"

"Besides the fact you're staring at her, no idea."

The sharpshooter lowered his phone, knowing he couldn't hide the truth from his best friend. "I...may have told her how I feel."

Gladio, who'd been eavesdropping, spoke up. "Guessing by the look on your face, it went well."

Prompto sighed dreamily. "It went better than well. It went perfect."

"Who knew you had it in you, string bean."

The younger boy rolled his eyes with a groan at the ridiculous nickname. He looked back down at his phone and saw the game finished loading. He focused his eyes on the screen, but his mind was reminiscing in the kisses he shared with (Y/n) only a couple hours ago. His cheeks were dusted with a light tinge of pink as he played King's Knight until it was time for them to infiltrate the stronghold.

The group left Sothmocke Haven and made their way towards one of cargo entrances located on the side of Aracheole Stronghold. They snuck through rows of storage containers until arriving just outside the cargo entrance. Two soldiers were patrolling the road and inspecting the outgoing cargo. While hiding behind two storage containers, Ignis instructed Noctis when to kill the soldiers. Warp-striking each one, he killed the enemies without alerting the stronghold.

With the way clear, they walk through the cargo entrance. They quickly duck behind stacks of boxes and storage containers when spotting the search lights located on the ramparts. They ducked their heads lower as a MA-X Maniple marched directly towards them with its headlight pointed directly at the cargo they were concealing themselves with. Holding their breaths, they patiently waited for the mech to pass by their hiding spot. It turned to their right, strolling away.

"It's gone," Noctis sighed, relieved it didn't spot them.

"Magitek armor," Ignis whispered.

"Don't wanna mess with one of those," Gladio commented.

"We shouldn't have to if we keep to the shadows." Ignis led the group through the rows of cargo in the direction the mech walked in. Three more soldiers sauntered by, which didn't go unnoticed by the group. Noctis times their movements before warp-striking and killing them one by one.

Now the way was clear. They made their way over to a gate located beside a deactivated MA-X Maniple. Noctis deactivated the barrier keeping them from going any further. While the boys continued forward and ran into another group of soldiers, (Y/n) climbed up a stack of storage containers and stalked the enemies' movements from above. She watched Noctis closely as he managed to take down four of the six soldiers patrolling the area.

The girl snuck across the top of the metal storage containers until she reached the second gate. She glanced over the top and spotted the Regalia not too far away. Her attention was redirected back to the prince when he alerted the last soldier by killing the other one. Before the adversary could raise his gun and shoot Noctis, she manifested a dagger made of pure flames and leapt down on top of the soldier. She jammed the fiery blade into his back, killing him instantly. The dagger vaporized as she stepped away from the soldier's corpse.

Noctis glanced behind him before looking back at her. "Where did you...?"

"Nice save," Gladio complimented, the raven-haired boy's question going unanswered.

"Aw, yeah! That's my girl!" Prompto chanted.

"Well done, (Y/n)," Ignis said.

"The Regalia is just through this gate," she said before turning to the panel and deactivating the translucent barrier. They walk into the next area and immediately spot the car they'd been searching for. However, they were spotted by a MA-X Maniple. As the mech rose to its feet and set its sight on the group, soldiers and magiteks encroached on their position. All the search lights were aimed at them, revealing them in the darkness.

(Y/n) transformed and leapt onto the mech while the boys dealt with the soldiers and MTs. She latched on to one of the missile cannons attached to its shoulders. She growled menacingly as her fangs sunk deeper into the machine's metal exterior. Shaking her head, she managed to tear the missile cannon from the MA-X Maniple and toss it aside. She jumped off its body, using her weight to knock it down to a single knee.

Prompto and Ignis dealt heavy damage to the mech after seeing it had collapsed. Noctis and Gladio kept their attention on the soldiers and MTs trying to surround them. Vaulting a safe distance away from the battle, the fox spirit concentrated her energy into her tails and paws. They ignited with bright flames and she rejoined the fray. She charged through a horde of soldiers and MTs, using her blazing paws and tails to swipe and them left and right.

Noctis saw the others were handling the enemies and decided to take it upon himself to warp up to the watchtower. Using the turret located at the top, he targeted the energy tanks. Explosions shook the ground as the tanks blew up one by one, taking enemies with them. When all the tanks, the MA-X Maniple, soldiers, and magiteks were annihilated, Noctis returned to his friends. Discussing their next target, they headed towards the magitek generator located in the rear of the stronghold.

The sun was beginning to rise. (Y/n), still in her spiritual form, split off from the boys to deal with the overwhelming amount of enemies swarming from all directions. She dealt with them while the others headed straight for the generator. She fought against more soldiers, MTs, and MA Veles-Bises, keeping them at bay for a short time before destroying them. She went to rendezvous with the others when her attention was drawn to the magitek generator. It had been destroyed and weakened the entire garrison.

Running as fast as she could, (Y/n) searched for the boys just as Noctis summoned the mighty Fulgurian, Ramuh. She stopped in her tracks, her slitted eyes traveling up to the sky when seeing the Astral appear. She watched in silence and awe as the god used his power to annihilate the remaining enemies in Aracheole Stronghold. Before Ramuh vanished, she could've sworn he glanced at her.

When the god was gone, (Y/n)'s ears perked up when she sensed a strange presence in the distance. Her golden eyes scanned her surroundings when the presence was slowly moving toward the direction of the Regalia. Instead of pursing the person, she used her connection to the gemstone on Prompto's bracelet to find the boys' current location. What caused her fur to stand on end was both their presence and the stranger's were closing in on each other. She couldn't understand why she could sense the stranger's aura without needing a connection. Pushing the thought aside, she made her way back to the Regalia.

The moment the guardian caught a glimpse of the car in the distance, she saw Noctis, Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis were being approached by a man with a sword drawn she'd never seen before. With her sensitive hearing, she listened in on their conversation while keeping her distance.

"Long has it been, Noctis," Ravus, the man who she detected earlier, hissed.

"Ravus," Noctis growled.

"You receive the Storm's blessing. And yet, you know nothing of the consequences." Ravus raises his sword and points the sharp tip at Noctis's throat.

Gladio was enraged at the sight. "Watch it." He moves to get between them, causing Ravus to reposition the blade with its edge now along Gladio's throat.

Ignis starts to move toward Ravus, but the other man raises his left hand. "Be still. All of you," the man warned.

"Not good..." Prompto muttered.

"Heir to a crown befitting no other. Witness his splendor and glory. All hail the Chosen King."

Noctis, although being threatened by Ravus, stood his ground and snapped back. "Awful high and mighty for an imperial rat, serving the enemy to hunt down Luna!"

Ravus suddenly grabs Noctis' throat with his left hand. "I do not serve. I command!" He shoves the boy backward and Gladio gets between them. The high commander glared at the brute. "The king's sworn shield."

"You better believe it," Gladio snarled.

"A weak shield protects naught." Ravus slowly raises his sword above his head, then brings it down fiercely. Gladio briefly blocks it with his own sword before Ravus parries the weapon away and slams the pommel of his sword into the shield's chest, sending him flying into the side of the Regalia. Prompto runs to check on Gladio while Noctis gets between them and Ravus.

"Wanna go? Let's do it," Noctis remarked in a low, threatening tone. He summons the royal arms and they begin spinning around him.

"Should the Chosen fail, that too is fate." Ravus raises his sword again and went to strike the prince. Before he could bring it down, his blade was deflected by another. He stumbled backwards and casted his glare towards the person who parried his attack, ready to swing his sword a second time.

(Y/n)'s slitted eyes narrowed at Ravus' movements. Raising the cosmic blade gifted to her by Brahma, she ducked under his sword and slammed the pommel into his gut. The high commander collapsed to a single knee. The oxygen was knocked from his lungs and his grip on his sword slipped, resulting in him to drop it. It clattered against the ground. She kicked it out of his reach, pointing the tip of her sword at his throat. She stared down into his heterochromia eyes with a stoic expression. "How does it feel to taste your own medicine?"

Ravus went to snap back, but his eyes fell on the blade she wielded. His eyes narrowed, gritting his teeth. "The Creator's Blade..." He then took note of the gemstone embedded in her upper right arm and her slitted eyes. "You are-!"

"I'd say that's far enough," a voice spoke up. Everyone turned their attention to the owner of the voice and saw Ardyn sauntering towards them. Beside him was Callyx. The auburn-haired man smiled at Noctis. "A hand, Highness?"

"Not from you," Noctis scoffed.

"Oh, but I'm here to help," he innocently replied.

Ignis was suspicious of the chancellor's and Callyx's sudden appearance. "And how is that?"

"By taking the army away."

Gladio glowered at him. "You expect us to believe that?"

"When next we meet, it'll be across the sea. Just so happens we have business of our own with the tutelary deity. Don't we?" Ardyn then took a few steps toward (Y/n), who was still pointing her blade at Ravus' throat. He took off his hat and bowed. "Please do forgive my acquaintance, my dear. He has quite the temper."

The guardian stepped away from Ravus, withdrawing her blade. She noticed Ardyn and Callyx were staring at the cosmic weapon. The chancellor's face remained stoic while the emerald-eyed spirit gaped in shock. He went to step forward, but Ardyn stopped him.

"Ardyn, but she's..." Callyx began.

"We are leaving," the chancellor interrupted the guardian. He then helped Ravus up and said his goodbyes. "Fare thee well, Your Majesty, and safe travels." Ravus, Callyx, and Ardyn walk away.

"You guys know that guy?" Prompto asked.

"Ravus Nox Fleuret, first son of Tenebrae...and elder brother to Lady Lunafreya," Ignis explained.

(Y/n) dispelled the sword with a heavy sigh. "What a weird trio..."

"I'll say," Noctis said.

"They were really into your sword, (Y/n)," Prompto commented. "Where did you get it?"

"That's...a story for another day," she forced a smile.

Gladio rubbed the spot where Ravus hit him with his sword. "I don't care where the damn thing came from. Nice moves back there, by the way."

"Consider it payback for what he did to you and Noctis." She combed a hand through her (h/c) locks. "Now then, let's get out of here."

"Yes, please!" Prompto chanted.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || Masterlist

[secret-engima]

Okie dokie, the Cor and Prompto sibling thing. Please can we have more? Does Regis discover the magic and come to the half sibling conclusion?

Okay so, as previously established in a recently answered ask, Prompto’s magic gets discovered because Cor runs off to Throw Hands with Gilgamesh. :D Specifically, they wake up to find Cor missing, and while the rest of the Retinue would have taken longer to figure it out and like- would have searched the nearby area for him first, Prompto knows. He grew up knowing the story of Cor the Immortal, he met the man, he was friends with the man and heard the story of how it happened. He heard the story of how to get there from Gladiolus.

Prompto takes off for the Tempering Ground, and after some confusion and HORROR when he tells them where he’s going, they follow. Because who would know where Cor went better than his brother?

They get there, and of course, the place is guarded. Not by Gilgamesh’s creatures, but by Lucian Crownsguard that Cor managed to sneak past. The rest of the Retinue isn’t near as stealthy in arrival, and while they are sympathetic to their prince’s fear for his wayward friend, they are under orders from the king himself to not let anyone pass. Especially not someone as important as Regis. No one has entered the Tempering Grounds and escaped alive, they cannot risk the Crown Prince or his Shield in such a way. Regis argues for it, he shouts and he commands, but they will not listen, and the Crownsguard outnumber them.

Meanwhile, through it all, Prompto stares at the entrance, sealed off by guards but not by doors, with an eerily blank expression. He knows how this story goes. He knows that Cor will be alright. Cor chops off Gilgamesh’s arm before being defeated, and Gilgamesh spares his life.

But what if.

What if Cor isn’t as good as he was last time because Prompto’s been there to shield him from some of the dangers that would have hardened him and honed him? What if Cor gets hurt during a previous trial and is slowed down? What if something goes WRONG in the final fight and Gilgamesh defeats him before he can land that blow that made the immortal Shield spare him? Fights are hair trigger things and Prompto has SEEN how the future can change. The little details if not the broad strokes, and in a fight it’s the little details, not the big ones, that will ruin everything.

What if Prompto’s existence is just enough of a ripple to change the small detail that saved Cor’s life last time?

What if his brother dies?

Prompto starts walking.

A guard steps forward to stop him, freezes in surprise at the gun aimed for his head. The other guards bristle and draw weapons even as Regis frantically orders everyone to stand down and Cid tries to catch Prompto and pull him back. Prompto keeps walking. When a pair of Crownsguard surround him, he pulls out his other pistol from armiger and aims at both of them in silent warning. When more Crownsguard surround than he has hands for weapons, Prompto pauses, bows his head and lowers the guns to the ground.

He kicks one suddenly, sends it skittering between their legs and all the way to the entrance of the Tempering Grounds. A flicker of light, of MAGIC and suddenly Prompto is at the entrance, staggering from using a warp when he is unpracticed (when he is in pain, clinging to his control even as Noct’s magic-now-his BEGS to be used at last). Regis shouts, in shock and horror both, but Prompto has already snatched up his pistol and run, disappearing into the entrance. The Crownsguard do not follow, and they regretfully prevent the rest of the Retinue from following after.

And Regis is horrified, and scared. He’s afraid BOTH of the teens in his care will die in there, but he’s also confused, because he hadn’t given any of his Retinue the power to warp yet. He wasn’t- that was something that took years of cultivating a bond to grant that through a Retinue bond rather than a simple lending of raw magic. He doesn’t know HOW Prompto warped, or how Prompto knew he COULD, because that kick had been calculated, been planned to get an anchor point where he needed it to be.

Then, somewhere deep in the chasm at their feet, where they cannot see and do not know, Prompto finds the door to the first trial and it tries to deny him entrance. So Prompto pulls out a bazooka from HIS armiger, not Regis’s, and opens fire.

The Retinue hear the muffled explosion and all tense. They look at Regis, who’s expression is pinched as he checks his armiger mentally, and that’s when he realizes with a jolt that Prompto’s Crownsguard issued pistols are still in his armiger. Cor’s favorite sword is missing, pulled free and in use, but even though he SAW Prompto holding pistols, using one to warp, the ones Prompto has always used on this trip still lie untouched in Regis’s armiger. A mental check show that ... except for Cor’s sword, all of Regis’s weapons are still stored in his armiger.

So what is Prompto fighting with?

Another muffled explosion, this one so strong it makes the pebbles on the ground shiver faintly, even though it is too far away and too deep for the Retinue to feel it themselves, then a rapid trio of booms, all in quick succession.

Somewhere deep in the chasm, something screams, eerie and primal and it chills Regis’s blood, all of their blood, as there it suddenly cuts off mid-sound and a few seconds later they hear the echoing crack of the shot that killed it.

“That was a sniper rifle,” Cid says with narrowed eyes and clenched hands, and they believe him, because they’ve fought Niflheim snipers before, and out of all of them Cid and Prompto were the ones to take the most interest in enemy weaponry. Regis feels cold.

He doesn’t have a sniper rifle in armiger. He’s never owned one. And there were none nearby among the Crownsguard (who do not use guns very much at all, let alone specialized ones like a sniper rifle over a handgun) for him to have snatched up on his way. So where did Prompto (and it had to be Prompto, Cor didn’t use guns at all) get one?

(Deep in the Tempering Ground, Prompto steamrolls through any opposition, mowing down the stubborn with weapons, and cowing the rest with the magic slowly steaming off his skin and slipping from his control. The daemons do not stop attacking him, but the knights who lie cursed here with Gilgamesh tremble and kneel on battered armor knees before the blond haired king storming past them with fury turning his eyes eerie dawn gold.)

(When he comes across one of the Bandersnatches, the creature screams at him. Prompto pulls out a sniper rifle from Noct’s-his-Noct’s-his armiger and fires. The creature dies with a sniper round through its eye and brain. Prompto keeps going. His skin is burning now, and magic is leaking and trailing behind him like wisps of blue mist and biting flickers of lightning that slowly start to take the shape of melee weapons Prompto doesn’t bother to use.)

(The last trial door refuses to open for him. They have figured out what he is here for now, and while the knights tremble before a king, they have their orders. None are to interfere in the trial of the one who came before. Not even a Lucis Caelum. Prompto pulls out his cannon, then his bazooka, but neither have enough force on their own to make the door yield, and he does not have the strength to hold two in his hands.

Prompto stares at it, and past it he can feel the darting flicker of Cor’s soul, edged with Regis’s magic and drenched in Prompto’s-Noctis’s after years of exposure. He can feel his brother in pain and angry and scared.

Prompto inhales and braces for pain.

Exhales as his-Noct’s-his armiger sings. It surges out of his skin, cracks him open like a desert in drought and bleeds through the openings left behind. The thirteen royal arms sing around him, then over top of them another layer is added in Noctis’s personal favorite weapons, his swords and knives and shuriken. Then over top of them is Prompto’s arsenal. The machine guns, sniper rifles, handguns, biocannons, and bazookas he’d picked up during the roadtrip and used to great effect to defend his king until destiny came and there was no one left to defend but a memory and howling grief)

Prompto’s armiger takes aim.

The door gives way beneath the magic enhanced onslaught of a stolen, repurposed, upgraded Niflheim armory).

Far, far above, on the top of the chasm where the entrance lies, Regis sways, gasping for air in shock and disbelief as a magic aura filled with protective (agonized) rage blooms. It roars under his feet, shaking the land and the stones like an earthquake, howling over his senses like a dragon of the deep. The Crownsguard buckle to their knees, and some of the rookies pass out beneath the howling, furious weight reaching up to them as the Tempering Grounds rocks and shudders from explosions. Regis’s Retinue waver on their feet, protected somewhat by their bonds with Regis, but even with that- it is close. Too close.

Astrals above the magic is so strong.

As quickly and devastatingly as it bloomed, it suddenly winks out, and for over an hour, there is nothing but stunned, breathless silence. No one dares move, no one dares leave. All eyes watch the entrance now. Waiting to see what (if anything) will come out.

It’s Cor.

It’s Cor who is sweaty and battered and exhausted, bleeding in a dozen small places, clothes all torn, face alight with something like terror and regret and over his shoulders-

Over his shoulders is Prompto.

“Help,” Cor whispers as he staggers up to them and they rush to grab him and take Prompto off his shoulders, “I- he’s burning up- he’s-.”

Prompto is burning up, his fever is dangerously high and he looks completely out of it and Weskham wastes no time in commandeering a medical tent and supplies to try to save Prompto’s life.

It takes days for Prompto’s fever to finish leaving, and during those days he’s either unconscious or half awake and sobbing about things that don’t make sense, calling for people Regis doesn’t know. At one point Prompto clings to Regis’s hand and calls him “Noct” and begs him with tears rolling down his face to “not go” and there is nothing Regis can do but cry with him, because he does not know who “Noct” was, but he knows that Prompto’s friend is already dead and long gone.

But there are other things to worry about as well. Like the magic that leaks and jolts from Prompto’s skin like static, that snaps angrily at Regis’s own when he tries to soothe it for Prompto’s sake, because the magic under Prompto’s skin is far more powerful than Regis’s and also feral. Angry at being restrained and hidden away for years and years. Regis thinks Prompto is a half-brother, but when they ask Cor what he knows-

Cor tells them a story. A story that Prompto has told him in bits and pieces. About four brothers, about a prince turned king, who gave Prompto a final gift that burns and seethes and hurts yet Prompto treasures anyway because it’s all he has left of them.

“But you said you’ve known Prompto since you were a boy,” Clarus protests.

Cor shrugs and looks haggard by his brother’s bedside, “I have. I don’t know how it happened. He won’t tell me how the story ends. But Prompto’s been an adult before, and something made him a little kid again. In body anyway.”

They almost don’t believe him, but there’s something about the magic coiling and dripping off Prompto’s soul that gives Regis pause.

When Prompto finally recovers, when his fever finally gives way and he is himself again, they ask their questions again. And Prompto shivers in Cor’s arms as Regis holds his hand in solidarity and he ... finishes the story Cor has told them. Fills it in with aching detail.

And so they learn.

His name was once Prompto Argentum, not Prompto Leonis. And he was the Heart of another Lucis Caelum’s Retinue. He was a boy with a barcode on his skin that he hid, a boy grown not from a mother but a science tank, and he have loved his brother-Retinue more than anything in the world. He was a Heart of a prince who lost a kingdom, a king who was one hundred and fourteenth ... and last ... of his line.

Then his king died, and Prompto cried, and somewhere between the new dawn and the despair of that first night, Prompto woke up somewhere else (somewhen else) entirely, with his king’s magic living and singing painfully strong under his skin.

They don’t want to believe him.

But he shows them the things in his armiger, the royal arms and the weapons Cid has never seen yet have his personal touch. He looks into their eyes and they see the age there for what it is. And they believe him.

Regis believes him.

His second sword, one of a pair, brother of Cor Leonis, was once Prompto Argentum, a child who knew them only in passing.

The Heart of the son Regis does not yet have. The son who dies for a Prophecy.

“I can’t do nothing,” Regis bites out later, when they are at a Haven far from the Tempering Grounds, alone among only his trusted, “My son is going to die! It’s not- I can’t just let it happen! How could the other- the future- how could I have let it happen?”

Prompto watches this Regis who is young and reckless, who is helping him learn to control the magic under his skin so it no longer burns him alive when he tries to use it or contain it, who has not yet suffered the tragedies and weight of the Wall that made the older Regis poor of health and accepting of fate. Prompto watches him pace and agonize over a future looming ahead, unable to be calmed by any of his fellow shell-shocked brothers, and ... an idea comes.

Prompto has the magic of a chosen king under his skin, and time to plan, to defy the future.

“I think,” Prompto whispers, “we need to take a detour before we go to Altissia.”

Everyone stares at him and Prompto looks down at his hands, thinking of everything he knows of Noctis, of the magic coiling and grumbling inside him that does not belong to him by blood. He thinks of someone else who defied fate and cheated death, and he smiles bitterly, “If you wanna try to save Noctis. Then we need to go to Angelgard.”

[ficswithrimi]

Mine (Chapter 12)

Title: Mine

Pairing: Noctis Lucis Caelum x Reader

Genre: Angst, Romance

Trigger Warning: Mentions of blood, violence, depression, suicide attempt, and minor sexual content

Synopsis: Daughter of a Niflheim soldier, you were sent out to Tenebrae to spy on the Nox Fleuret family and their involvement with the Lucis Caelum family. However, after learning the truth about Niflheim, you betray them. Your journey of revenge begins after learning of the death of your adoptive sister, Lunafreya, and your childhood friend Noctis Lucis Caelum.

First Chapter

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A/N: Hi, darlings! Sorry for the extremely long wait but here is chapter 12! Things will really start heating up now because we’re about a chapter away from Altissia! And if you’ve played FFXV... well, get your tissues. I plan to make you all suffer in ways the game didn’t. Muahaha. Anyways, enjoy! 

                                                   _____________

           Church bells rung tauntingly above you as you dashed inside the building, worried that you would be late for the grand event. Though you were running as fast as you could towards the chapel, the weight from your heart felt as if it were slowing your entire body down. Finally, you threw open the chapel doors where you could feel unfamiliar eyes immediately turn to burn into your soul. However, you didn’t care to notice them. Your eyes stared at the end of the room where the backs of those you loved most faced you. To the left was your sister. Her long, white veil covered the entirety of her back, but you could make out the wedding dress she wore through the veil’s sheerness. The feeling of your sinking heart intensified as your eyes traveled to the right where the man you were in love with – but wasn’t supposed to be – stood. He was in a pinstripe suit, from what you could tell, and a crown sat upon his unruly raven-black hair.

           “Do you, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, take Noctis Lucis Caelum to be your lawfully wedded-“

           Your ears perked up as the voice of the invisible priest filled your head. The voice seemed to echo against the walls of the chapel and surround you. Lunafreya… was marrying Noctis? And she didn’t wait for you to start the ceremony? You’d always imagine you’d stand right next to your sister ever since you found out she was supposed to marry the prince. Why would she… start without you? Carefully, you trudged towards the front of the chapel as the priest continued.

           “I do,” At Lunafreya’s unhesitant words, your eyes widened as your feet came to a halt. You started to tremble as the unknown priest began to repeat the vow, this time directed towards Noctis.

           “And do you, Noctis Lucis Caelum-“

           “No…” You whispered to yourself as you desperately tried to communicate with your feet to move again. The urge to stand beside your sister on her wedding day suddenly turned into the want to stop the wedding. However, your feet were cemented to the white floor. You blinked back tears as you jerked your body forward to no avail. Looking up, you gasped as you noticed you were no longer in the chapel. The guests’ eyes that had been staring at you from the beginning had disappeared and only Lunafreya and Noctis stood up front, staring into a white abyss.

           “I…d-“

           “No!” You shouted, your voice echoing throughout the space. Finally, your feet began to run towards them. As you reached them, you expected to reach out and grab ahold of Lunafreya, however, you took hold of the back of Noctis’s suit jacket instead. “Please… don’t get married…”

           Suddenly, the white walls of the room melted to the floor to reveal pitch black ones. Your eyes widened in horror as the white completely drained from the room, leaving everything completely black. You gripped onto Noctis’s jacket for protection as it became harder to see anything from the darkness.

           “A traitor has no right to be at our wedding,” Lunafreya’s cold voice filled your ears. Your head whipped towards her to see her in her usual white dress, now tattered and bloodstained. Her blonde hair that was usually in a updo, was now blowing wildly around her shoulders. Pryna and Umbra stood beside her snarling at you as their eyes glowed a dark ember – something you’ve never witnessed from the mystical dogs.

           “I’m…”

           “You are the cause of this. It’s your fault my mother is dead, why Tenebrae fell, why I was locked up for years in the manor. Why I threw away my life to become oracle. You took away all the happiness I had. The only one left to save me from my misery was,” Lunafreya paused briefly as her eyes flickered over to Noctis then to your hand that still held tightly onto him, “Him… and you even managed to take him away from me.”

           “Lunafreya, I’m-“

           “Didn’t you listen to my stories as a child, Y/N? The oracle ends up with the Chosen King, not the Imperial soldier’s daughter, as foretold by the Gods,” At her words she began to fade into the darkness. Immediately, you let go of Noctis’s jacket and attempted to reach out towards her. Umbra and Pryna simultaneously began to growl and bark viciously at you, causing you to draw your arm back as they and Lunafreya faded.

           “You just destroy the lives of everyone around you, huh?” You turned to Noctis who was now facing you. His once azure eyes were now glowing red as they burned into you. “Because of your selfishness, my country and father have fallen. Do you actually think I don’t know the truth about you? How you’re Imperial scum? You’re just like your mother – a traitor. Glauca should’ve finished you off when he had the chan-“

           “That’s enough, Y/N,” Tears streamed down your face as the voice of Gentiana echoed throughout the room. You turned your head briefly to try to spot the woman within the darkness before turning back to Noctis to only find him gone.

           “Y/N!” Your eyes shot open as the fierce voice of an unfamiliar woman’s voice awoken you from your sleep. Your chest was heaving as your eyes frantically searched around the darkened tent. Iris was curled up asleep beside you with Prompto on your other side. When did you come back inside the tent? More importantly, why did you have that dream? Was it… predicting the future?

~!~

Noctis’s POV

           Sleep was one of the things the prince cherished the most. If there was enough time in the day that he could get a chance to doze off, he’d take it every time. Every day, he looked forward to when he could close his eyes and drift off into a peaceful slumber. Well, as peaceful as it’d get with the threat of daemons and Imperials lurking around. Point is, he took sleeping as serious as Prompto took the chocobos. When he didn’t get his much-needed rest, he’d wake up cranky much to his friends’ dismay. The prince was already a slight grouch, but he was almost a hundred times worst when he didn’t sleep.

           So, imagine Ignis’s surprise – and slight annoyance - to see the prince wide awake, sitting in his chair around the extinguished firepit. To see Noctis up before the sun was an extremely rare sight and Ignis knew that only meant one thing – he didn’t sleep the night before. After noticing the prince, the older man mentally prepared himself for any stark remarks from him. Ignis knew it was going to be a long day. However, to his surprise again, when he greeted Noctis, the prince responded distantly instead of with a grunt or just ignoring him. Ignis noted there was something off with the 20-year-old, but he decided to leave the situation alone. He figured it had something to do with Y/N as the ex-princess was wide awake as well. She, however, didn’t acknowledge the adviser – something Ignis expected from the woman.

           Yes, sleep was the last thing on the prince’s mind. His mind kept repeating the previous night’s events. Throughout the night, Noctis questioned whether it happened or not. Did he dream it? But he couldn’t have had, right? He clearly felt Y/N’s soft lips pressed against his. He clearly felt the spark that ignited from her touch and the lingering presence of her when she pulled away. Noctis found himself touching his lips ever so often throughout the night as if trying to recreate the too short moment. It wasn’t the prince’s first kiss but the feeling that came with this one was new. He wanted to feel it again. He wanted to kiss Y/N again.

           How could he, though? The terrified look in her hazel eyes she gave him when she pulled away struck a fear in his own heart. Noctis knew she instantly regretted the kiss. She felt guilty for kissing the man her sister, who she loved more than anything in Eos, was in love with. Noctis had to admit, he felt a bit guilty as well as Y/N did practically tell him that Luna was in love with him. However, it wasn’t Luna that Noctis was in love with. And, though it was selfish, he was happy that the one he did hold feelings for possibly returned them – whether she’d admit it or not.

           “Ah, good morning, Lady Y/N,” Noctis was snapped from his thoughts as Ignis greeted Y/N as she emerged from the tent. Her eyes were bloodshot and dark circles were present under her eyes. Noctis’s heart dropped at the sight of her. He could tell she didn’t sleep much either, however, she seemed to be worse off than what he was. Y/N didn’t say anything to Ignis as she walked to the cooler to fetch a bottle of water. As she passed Noctis, her eyes glanced over to him, briefly meeting his cerulean ones. Noctis didn’t know why he was expecting a smile or a nod from the girl, but his heart sank further when the corners of her lips turned into a frown at the sight of him. She swiftly looked away from him as she grabbed the bottle and returned to the tent.

           Noctis let out a heavy sigh as he ran a hand through his messy black hair. The elatedness he had felt throughout the night disappeared. Y/N regretted everything and now she probably hated the prince because of the kiss. Though she gave him permission to kiss her, Noctis shouldn’t have had asked when she was in such a vulnerable state. Finally, Noctis could feel the lack of sleep and the irritation rising in him.

           “Since you and Lady Y/N are up, how about we wake the others as well and finish our journey to Caem?” Ignis proposed as he plopped down in the chair next to Noctis with a mug of instant coffee in his hand.

           “Do whatever you want,” Noctis snarled under his breath as he got up from the chair and began to walk away from the campsite towards the beach. Ignis arched a brow before letting out a sigh. There was the cranky, sleep-deprived prince he’d known for over half his life.

~!~

Your POV

           Your head pounded as you constantly replayed the events of your dream – nightmare – in your head. From the way Noctis and Lunafreya glared, to the way Umbra growled in disgust, and to the unknown woman’s voice who awakened you. Whose voice was that? You had recognized Gentiana’s but not the other? Was it a God? Why would a God contact you through your dreams, though? They hated you as much as you hated them. If anything, they would’ve tried to make your dream worse than what it already was. Clutching your head in pain, you looked towards the front seat of the Regalia where Gladiolus sat and Ignis drove. Prompto had decided to sit in the back to make more room for Noctis, Iris, and you. However, because he oversaw the music, the blond man demanded to squeeze in the middle of the backseat to easily control the radio from his phone.

           His music blared out the speakers as Ignis zipped down the highway towards Cape Caem. Iris, who was sitting the closest to the prince, was bickering with her brother about something while Noctis was staring at the endless ocean that passed by.

           “Can’t you turn that down some?” You frowned at Prompto who was searching for the next song to play on his phone.

           “Huh?” He looked over to you. It was the first time you’ve really spoken to anyone all morning. Apparently, Noctis and you were giving everyone the silent treatment – especially towards each other. However, it was more so you were ignoring Noctis than he was you. You went out of your way all morning to avoid the prince. Every time you looked at him, you just remembered his red glaring eyes. That, and the kiss of course. Before you had fallen asleep, your fingertips had kept unconsciously grazing across your bottom lip. The tingling sensation you had felt didn’t vanish until your eyes became heavy with sleep.

           “Turn the music down.”

           “It’s my favorite song though,” Prompto pouted at you. In response, your frown deepened at the man. Prompto let out another pout as he turned the volume down on his phone. “What’s wrong with you today?”

           “Nothing.”

           “Are you sure-“

           “I said nothing!” You sharply said to him, causing both Gladiolus and Ignis to throw you a look through the rearview mirror. Everyone knew something had happened between you and the prince as you were both in bad moods, but they didn’t know what. And you wanted to keep it that way. Even though you considered Prompto as someone you could trust, you didn’t want to tell him about your dream or what caused the dream. You were aware everyone in the car knew about your feelings for Noctis, however, no one knew you guys kissed and it was embarrassing to bring it up. That and… Lunafreya…

           You clutched your head again as your thoughts traveled to her. What were you going to do when you see her? She could read you like an open book. She’d know something was up with you if you kept acting the way you did. Would you be able to tell her that you kissed the love of her life – or that you were also in love with him? Lunafreya has forgiven you about a lot of things but you doubt she’d forgive you for taking Noctis away. He was her last hope for happiness. You glanced over at the prince who didn’t seem to acknowledge the tension between you and everyone else in the car. He was meant for Lunafreya. Not you. It was as the dream version of your sister had said: the oracle marries the chosen king – not the Imperial soldier’s daughter.

           And unfortunately, that’s all you’d ever be in this lifetime.

~!~

           “Well, it’s bout’ damn time you got your asses o’er here,” Cid, the owner of Hammerhead, scrunched his nose as you and the others trudged up the hill at Cape Caem towards the house. The gray-haired man was sitting in a wooden chair on the porch of the medium-sized cottage, gnawing on a toothpick he balanced on the left side of his mouth. You’ve only seen him a couple of times but never really interacted with him. Mostly, you talked with his granddaughter, Cindy. She was the one who had bandaged up your bullet wound when you arrived in Hammerhead for the first time.

           “We got here as fast as we could, sir,” Ignis said as he pushed up his glasses. “Is the boat prepared for departure?”

           “Ah, about that…” Cid stopped chewing on the toothpick and looked at Noctis. “There’s some parts missin’ that Cindy and I were hoppin’ ya’ll could fetch for us…”

           “What kind of parts?” Noctis arched a brow at the elderly man.

           “Myrill? Methrill? Somethin’ like that. That little fella from the city said he knew where ya’ll could get some. Ask him. The faster ya get it, the sooner ya’ll can leave. I say about three days tops.”

           “Three days?!” You asked in disbelief. “My sister is waiting for me. I need to be leaving tomorrow to get to her. Who knows what the Empire is doing to her-“

           “You wanna repair a vessel over 20 years old? Be my guest. Let me see if you can get ‘er done any sooner,” Cid frowned at you. You returned the look to the elderly man as he turned his attention away from you and back to Noctis and the guys. “As I said, three days. The faster we get the material, the better.”

           “Thank you, Cid. We’ll ask Talcott right away,” Ignis thanked the man. Meanwhile, you still held your glare at the man until you felt Prompto gently grab your arm and lead you towards the lighthouse. You assumed that’s where Talcott was.

           You looked up towards the lighthouse and the frown gradually faded away. It was your first time seeing a lighthouse in person. Living in Tenebrae, you were constantly surrounded by the forest and a manmade river close by the city. There wasn’t a need for a lighthouse as no one traveled along the lake late at night. It was beautiful as the setting sun’s rays gave the illusion that it was glowing. You bet you could get a clear view of the setting sun if you climbed to the top. It would feel like something out of a romance novel.

           Your eyes glanced to Noctis at this thought and felt your heart beat just a bit faster. He was getting information from Talcott with Ignis and Gladiolus as they stood closer towards the lighthouse. You studied how his arms were crossed over his chest and his muscles slightly poked out from his biceps. Just last night, those arms were wrapped around you. Just last night, you had opened a bit to him and let him become closer to you. And just last night, you had the nightmare that made you want to avoid him and close yourself off from him. For the sake of his feelings – for the sake of Lunafreya’s feelings. You couldn’t imagine what would hurt more. Losing the trust of the man you were in love with or the trust of your sister who’ve you shared so many memories with. The thought of losing both nearly killed you inside. You just wanted things to go back to normal. You wanted the dreams and visions to stop. You wanted to achieve your goal of reuniting Noctis and Lunafreya as originally planned, as well as, seek revenge on the Empire for making your family’s life a living hell. It’s all you wanted. So why… why was this journey harder than you expected?

Why were you continuously the root cause for everything that is happening?

“Comin’ along, princess, or are you just gonna stare at the light house all day?” Gladiolus smirked as he bumped his arm into yours. Snapping out of your thoughts, you threw him an irritated look before turning on your heel and follow the others as they walked back towards the house.

~!~

Lunafreya’s POV

           Awaiting your and Noctis’s arrival. Noctis, I hope my blessing has been received. -Luna

                                   It’s been a week since Lunafreya has heard back from Noctis or Y/N. She was a bit worried as since Umbra located them, the messages had been coming in constantly. It usually only took the messenger about three days to find the group and return to her. Endless thoughts coursed through the oracle’s mind such as if the group was hurt or if Umbra had injured himself along the way. However, she tried to put those thoughts to rest as Pryna didn’t show any signs of distress and she knew that at least Umbra was okay. However, the first thought? She wouldn’t be sure of until Umbra appeared.

           Not only was she worried because of Umbra’s lateness, but the Empire was up to something. They had been watching her more closely and banned her from now leaving her room inside of the estate. Servants would bring food to the blonde woman and imperials would accompany her to and from the restroom. It reminded Lunafreya of the first few years after her mother’s death and the Empire acquired Tenebrae. Her and Y/N were escorted everywhere in the manor and under close watch by Imperials with guns, ready to shoot at even one mishap. Though, Lunafreya knew deep down the guns were more to scare Y/N. However, the younger woman stopped showing fear of the weapons and Imperials by the time she was 12. It was something Lunafreya admired about her sister. She didn’t easily show her fear.

           Sighing, Lunafreya stared solemnly out of her bedroom window in case she happened to see Umbra prancing around. However, her ears perked up immediately as she heard the door opening. Umbra didn’t really need to use doors to enter and leave areas, but maybe a servant had noticed the canine and decided to open the door for him. Lunafreya turned around with hopeful eyes only for them to darken seconds later as an Imperial stood in her doorway. They weren’t accompanied with anyone else which confused the woman as usually they stuck in pairs.

           “Lunafreya Nox Fleuret…” the voice of a matured man filled her ears. The way he said her name caused her skin to crawl. It wasn’t the mischievousness or hatred it was laced with that scared her but, the monotone that accompanied it. This soldier… Lunafreya could tell has had enough experiences in his lifetime to lack empathy for anyone. He was the type to kill without second thought. And though he frightened the oracle, Lunafreya couldn’t help but feel a familiarity with him as he entered the room and shut the door behind him.

           “What is it that you want?” Lunafreya put her fear of the man behind her and held a straight face.

           “My, you’ve grown since the last time I saw you,” she could hear the smirk under his helmet. It sickened her.

           “Do you know me?”

           “Why, of course. Who wouldn’t know you? You’re Lady Lunafreya. Ex-princess of Tenebrae. The last oracle,” The man sarcastically said in a happy tone. Lunafreya shifted her eyes down to Pryna who was snarling at the man.

           “May I ask why you are here?” Lunafreya asked again. She wanted this man to leave as soon as possible.

           “You know when she’ll come, right?” The man asked as he roamed freely around the room, stopping to take notice of some of the things in the room. He stopped in front of the mannequin that wore what would’ve been Lunafreya’s wedding dress. They planned to move the dress to the store window of its designer as tribute to the “deceased” oracle. The man let out a low whistle as he eyed the gown. “What a beautiful dress. Would’ve made a gorgeous bride to the brat…”

           Ignoring the man’s disrespect for Noctis, Lunafreya’s mind focused on his question. “Who is this she?”

           The man ignored her question as he continued to examine the dress. “Heard you weren’t even gonna invite your own sister to your wedding. I understand, though. Can’t trust someone who’s betrayed you and your family before-“

           “If you’re talking about Y/N-“

           “Now look at her. Off traveling with your fiancé. The man you love. Who knows what that little traitor is doing now with him? Probably fuc-“

           “Please refrain from speaking of my sister in that manner! I don’t know who you are but to even think you know her better than I do-“

           The man let out a hearty laugh as Lunafreya balled her hands in a fist. Lunafreya wasn’t a great fighter and it’d be dangerous to take on a man who could probably shoot her dead before she reached him, but she wasn’t going to let anyone talk nonsense about Y/N. Especially an Imperial.

           “You know her better than me? Ha, no one alive knows that little wench better than me,” The man snorted as Lunafreya’s eyes widened at his words. This man… he couldn’t be? Why would he… appear here suddenly? And looking for Y/N? It didn’t make sense. What was the Empire planning on doing…? Why were they after Y/N again after all these years? Why did they send him to find her? What… what had Y/N done?

           The man stopped laughing to look at Lunafreya’s look of recognition on her face. Taking in a deep breath, the soldier removed his helmet as he stepped into the sun’s shining rays from the window and closer to Lunafreya, who in return, took a step back only to bump into the window. She let out a quiet gasp as she examined the man’s smirking face and Pryna began to angrily bark at the man. The man’s dark brown hair appeared nearly black and his light brown eyes were almost hazel from the light that bounced off them. However, it was the playful smirk that gave him away. Lunafreya had seen it many times before and had learned to love but also despise that look on… Y/N.

           “You know me, oracle?” The smirk grew on the man’s face as a small fire began to burn in his eyes. Another thing Lunafreya had seen in Y/N whenever she talked about seeking revenge on the Empire or the Gods.

           “Jeno Y/L/N…” Lunafreya said the man’s name. Y/N’s father.

           “Ah, so she’s told you about me,” he chuckled darkly before removing his gun from its holder. Aiming it at Lunafreya, the smirk fell into a look full of pure hatred. “Now, I’ll ask again, Lady Lunafreya, when will my daughter arrive?”

 ~!~

           Your POV

           “Why can’t I go with you?” You frowned at Gladiolus as you watched him pack some his things in a bag. After getting information from Talcott and Iris earlier in the day about where and how to obtain mythril, everyone decided to stay at Caem to prepare for a day or two as the lake it could be found at was heavily infiltrated with Imperial soldiers. However, Gladiolus had other plans that he didn’t seem to plan on telling you guys what they were. Now, the royal guard was in the boys’ shared room packing his things as the others were having dinner downstairs with Monica and everyone else. You had excused yourself from dinner as your thoughts ruined your appetite. After hearing of Gladiolus’s leaving, you thought it’d be a great excuse to escape the group – escape Noctis – for a bit until you could sort out everything.

           “Too dangerous for you, princess. Gotta get you to Lady Lunafreya in one piece, right? Besides, this is the first time you’ve really talked to anyone all day and it’s about you wanting to leave the others. What’s up with that?” Gladiolus said as he threw in one last item before zipping up the bag.

           Ignoring the second half of what he said, you sucked your teeth at the man. “Please. I can handle myself. You and I both know that. “

           “What are you avoiding, Y/N?” Gladiolus asked again as he plopped down on the bed.

           “Nothing.” You immediately said, “Just wanna tag along so you won’t be alone.”

           “Hm, I won’t be alone. Cor will be with me. So… you stay here with Noct.”

           You let out a frustrated sigh as he said Noctis’s nickname. Just hearing his name caused your stomach to do a tiny flip. You hated the feeling. It was still unknown to everyone about the kiss you shared with the prince and you wanted it to stay that way. So far, you were doing well with keeping your distance from the prince. It was even easier with Iris and Talcott around as they occupied most of Noctis’s time since you guys arrived. Still, you wanted to be as far away as possible from him right now to put your feelings back in check. You couldn’t be friends with him, and you definitely couldn’t be in love with him. Though, you were.

           “I don’t get you, Y/N,” Gladiolus shook his head. “One moment you seem to get along with us and the next, you want to run away. It’s annoying…”

           “Well, if you haven’t noticed, Gladiolus, I’ve been trying to leave since day one. And I-“

           “Then leave,” Gladiolus simply said as he stood up and grabbed his bag. “The others may beg you to stay, but I won’t anymore. You’ll be fine. Like you said, you can handle yourself.”

           You blinked at the muscular man in front of you in shock as his words registered in your mind. You’d been so used to the men trying to make sure you didn’t sneak off in the middle of the night. A few weeks ago, you would’ve loved to hear Gladiolus give you permission to leave and you would’ve left within the blink of an eye. But… hearing it now… it made your stomach twist in knots – and not the kind that you felt when you saw Noctis. No, this was more like… regret.

           “Cat got your tongue?” Gladiolus laughed. “Well, whatever you decide to do, I wish you the best, princess. Hope you get your revenge on the Empire and see your sister in case you’re not here when I get back.”

           Still frozen in your spot, Gladiolus placed a hand on your shoulder and gently squeezed it. Removing it, he walked out the door and let it slam behind him. His words circled your mind. You could run away right now. At this very moment and find a way to Altissia to see Lunafreya. Or, you could make a stop to Gralea and seek revenge on those who hurt you and everyone you loved. No one would be able to stop you. No one would take your picture without your consent or hold their camera above their head as you desperately tried to reach it. No one would irk your last nerve because of their matter-of-factly personality and strong loyalty towards making sure the prince became king. No one would wake you up at the crack of dawn to train you in areas you were already skilled in thanks to previous training from your brother. And lastly… you wouldn’t have to worry about a certain pair of ocean blue eyes staring at you when you “weren’t” paying attention. Or scold you when you were supposedly putting yourself in danger. Or experiencing goosebumps and chills from his casual brushes to your arm and other simple touches. You could leave now and not worry about it.

           It wouldn’t be the first time you contemplated leaving. You’ve thought about it several times before but there was always something – someone ­– holding you back. You were tired of being held back from doing what you wanted to do. Since you were kid, you’ve always been held back – always told what to do. From the Empire, your estranged father, your duties as a princess of Tenebrae to Lunafreya stopping you from defending yourself and now the men you were traveling with stopping you from taking off every time you considered it. You were tired of it. You wanted to find your sister. You wanted to destroy Aldercapt, Ardyn, and whoever else brainwashed you as a child. You wanted…

           You wanted to leave.

~!~

 Noctis’s POV

           Dinner was a little too quiet for Noctis’s liking. Yeah, there was Talcott who was rambling on about some cactus figures or something he wanted him to collect and Iris sighing -and hinting to the prince – how dreamy and romantic it would be to watch the sunset from the light house. Then there was Prompto who was showing Monica, who was uninterested, all the photos he’d taken so far. Ignis was discussing with another Crownsguard member about the flavors of the meal they were having. Gladiolus had packed his things and left during the meal to go off to wherever. He didn’t tell the group where he was going but just that he needed some “me time” or whatever. No, it was quite a lively dinner, but it was missing one snarky, sarcastic ex-princess who’d kick your ass with one wrong blink.

           Granted, Noctis was avoiding the woman but that was only because she seemed to distance herself from him as well. He planned on making some kind – any kind – of conversation with her at dinner. However, she was absent. Noctis knew he messed up with the kiss and he just wanted things to go back to normal between them. If she wanted to pretend that it never happened, then it’d be no problem. It never happened. Or if she wanted to cuss him out or hit him for kissing her, then that’d be okay. The prince just couldn’t take her ignoring him. He was finally getting through to her and now he was back at square one. No, worse than square one. Noctis felt like he was back to being 8 years old  and the 9-year-old Y/N wouldn’t even give him the time of day.

           Noctis let out a sigh as he shook the water from his raven locks with his towel after his shower. As he passed the room Y/N was occupying, he stopped in front of it as he thought about what to say to her if he were to knock. He could pretend he was at the wrong room. Or, one of his items got mixed up with hers from the last time they camped together. However, either way, he knew she wouldn’t believe him. Still, he wanted to talk to her. To apologize. To tell her it wouldn’t happen again no matter how much he’d give to feel her close to him.

           Taking in a deep breath after deciding that talking to the woman would be best, he quietly knocked on the door. Of course, it was no surprise to him when she didn’t answer. Still, the prince stood there for a while in case she decided to. Maybe she was asleep? Or downstairs getting food since she missed dinner? Hesitantly, he knocked a bit louder this time with more force. Since the cabin they were staying at was pretty old, it didn’t take much for the doors to open easily. The door creaked open just enough for Noctis to peek inside. Briefly deciding if he should or not, he knocked once more before pushing the door open a bit more. His eyes scanned what he could see of the room to see it was dark and… empty?

           Noctis immediately opened the door fully to confirm that Y/N was not in there. In fact, nothing that belonged to the princess was in there. Her backpack she used to travel with wasn’t there, her shoes, nothing. However, as Noctis scanned the room, his eyes settled on the jacket hanging on the back of a wooden chair. He instantly recognized the blue behemoth embroidery on the back of the leather jacket. Y/N always wore his jacket that he let her use. The woman didn’t even take it off when it would be blazing outside; instead, she’d tie the sleeves around her waist. Noctis knew she wasn’t in the shower as there was only one and he had just left it not too long ago. Could she have…? Panic set in his heart as he ran out of the room, dashing down the stairs towards the front door.

           “Your highness? What’s wrong?” Monica asked worriedly as she and a few other Crownsguard soldiers stood up from the dining table. Noctis ignored them and rushed out the door.

           “Y/N?!” Noctis shouted as he tried to see around the darkened area. The only light came from the light house, the full moon above, and some fireflies flying about. Monica and the others came rushing out the house as Noctis took off towards the lighthouse.

           “Go get the others,” Monica commanded two of the soldiers. They nodded at her before returning to the house to get Prompto and Ignis. Meanwhile, Noctis warped to the top of the lighthouse in case the woman had taken off there. He did see her amazed by the structure earlier in the day. Noctis silently prayed to the Gods she was up there. However, to his dismay, she wasn’t.

           “Noct! What’s wrong?” Noctis heard Prompto yell up to him. Noctis let out a frustrated sigh as he warped himself back down to his friends. They knew something was wrong as Noctis had a frantic look on his face – an expression the prince rarely gave.

           “Y/N. She’s gone.”

           “Nonsense, Noct. She’s probably just asleep in her room or-“

           “No, Iggy, she’s gone. Her things are gone. She only left the jacket I gave her,” Noctis gripped his hair with his hands as endless thoughts about where she could have gone rushed through his mind. That and what if she was gets hurt? How would he get to her in time? He barely got to her that one time she decided to take on an entire Imperial base. Could she have gone to try and find a way to Altissia to see Lunafreya? All the ports were closed. This was the only way. Did she think she could find another way? Did he really mess things up by kissing her? Noctis would take it all back if that mean he knew she was safe. He would’ve never tried to grow closer to her. He would’ve taken her words – we can’t be friends Prince Noctis – seriously when she said it.

           “Noct, calm down,” Prompto said to his best friend. Years of knowing the prince and the blond has never seen Noctis freak out over someone like this before. He didn’t even behave like this after the reports of King Regis and Lunafreya’s deaths. “Maybe Y/N went with Gladio?”

           “Impossible,” Ignis shook his head as he turned to look at Monica and the Crownsguard behind them who held exchanged worried glances with one another. “Monica, let the others know of the situation. We need everyone on the lookout for Y/N.”

           “Yes, sir,” Monica nodded her head in acknowledgement. She then turned to face Noctis. “We will notify you as soon as there’s info on the whereabouts of Lady Y/N, Your Highness.”

           Noctis watched as Monica and the rest of the Crownsguard began to scatter around Caem, preparing the search party. He jumped when he felt Prompto grip his shoulder. Noctis looked in his best friend’s eyes and could clearly see the worry he held in them as well. Still, the 20-year-old tried to smile reassuringly at the man.

           “Hey, for all we know, she just went for a nightly stroll and will return later.”

           “Prompto is right, Noct. We don’t know the situation behind Y/N’s sudden leaving, but we will look for her. However, if Y/N has decided to leave and find her own way to Altissia, then it’s best we still prepare for our trip as well. We’ll go to the lake tomorrow instead so Cid and Cindy can finish the boat-“

           “I’m not leaving until I know Y/N is safe,” Noctis turned to Ignis.

           “You still have a duty to fulfil as the Cho-“

           “Chosen King. Yeah, Ignis, I know,” Noctis grumbled. Gods, was he tired of everyone reminding him of this duty he had that he never even asked for. Being a king was the last thing on his mind right now. The woman he was in love with was possibly in danger and he couldn’t help but feel that it was his fault.

~!~

Your POV

           When you decided to leave, you didn’t really think about where exactly you’d go or how you’d get there. You just knew you had to leave that house before things worsened – before someone other than Prompto knew about who you really are. Maybe by now they’ve noticed you’re gone and Prompto decided to tell them who you truly were. You scoffed at the thought. If he told them about you then he’d have to tell them about himself being from Niflheim as well. You doubt Prompto would betray you like that, but anything was possible.

           It was eerily dark out besides the streetlamps that past by every couple of feet. You could hear the snarls, moans, and groans of the lurking daemons as they hunted for their next victim. Luckily, you’ve traveled with the boys long enough to know how to stealthily avoid being seen. You thought that by not being near Noctis and his powers then you couldn’t summon your daggers anymore, however, they still seemed to work. You weren’t well equipped for wherever you were going. The backpack you took along only held some clothing items, a toothbrush, and about three healing potions you swiped from the Regalia before setting off.

           You thought that now you were on your own, you’d feel free again – as you did on your train ride to Insomnia a month ago. However, you felt… lonely. You hadn’t even been gone a full two hours and you could feel your heart aching for the boys. However, you couldn’t go back. If anything, that dream was telling you what would happen if you stayed. What you were would work out for everyone. You would find a way to Niflheim – to Gralea – and destroy the Empire. If you fell, you’d fall knowing they fell with you. Lunafreya wouldn’t have to live her life in fear by them and could regain control over Tenebrae. Ravus was the rightful heir to the throne after Queen Sylva’s death, but you doubt the people of Tenebrae would want someone who served the Empire as a king. Not only that, but Noctis could be reunited with his true queen – the one he was meant to be with. They could go on with their marriage and rule over Lucis and Tenebrae together. He’d go on to fulfil whatever his responsibilities Ignis was obsessed with as the chosen king. Gladiolus would serve as shield and Prompto would probably become a royal photographer or something. Everyone would live happily without ever knowing the truth about you.

           It hurt you that you chose your unavoidable death before seeing Lunafreya one last time. But you knew she would always be with you. You lifted your right ring finger up to the light of the full moon where your ring shone brightly. This was the best for everyone. At least you’d die knowing you tried to correct your mistakes – for serving the Empire – for loving Noctis.

           As your thoughts consumed you, you blocked out the heavy footsteps of a large daemon approaching. The feeling of the vibrating ground underneath you snapped you out of your thoughts. Dropping your hand and summoning your daggers, you turned around just in time to see an Iron Giant preparing its sword that was about as big as the Regalia to swing at you. Without a second thought, you dodge rolled out the way as the sword slammed into the ground with a deafening cracking sound. You’ve faced Iron Giants before but usually you had the help of the boys – never on you own. It was called a giant for a reason. Any physical contact from the daemon could kill you on impact. You aimed one of your daggers at its midriff just as it raised its sword again. The dagger made contact but with little to no damage to the monster. Usually when you fought Iron Giants, you depended on Noctis and Gladiolus’s larger swords to get the job done while Ignis, Prompto, and you distracted the daemon from the others’ attack. This time, you were all alone. However, you wouldn’t give up here. You had a mission to fulfil.

           Summoning the dagger back, you aimed again at it, this time for its muscular arm that held his sword. Maybe you could inflict enough pain that it could drop the sword and give you an opening. You threw the dagger with all your strength at its arm. You smirked a bit as it slammed into its upper bicep, causing it to drop the sword as you had planned. The ground shook violently from the drop of the metal and the silent night was filled with the screams of the daemon. Quickly, you dashed towards the giant as it struggled to remove your dagger from its arm. Stabbing one of his feet with your other dagger, causing it to bend over in more pain, you jumped up onto the monster. Summoning the dagger in his arm back, you went to attack its face.

           However, before you could get the chance, the beast came back to its senses and roughly ripped you from it.

           “Ah!” You yelled in pain as it began to squeeze the life out of your body. Your arms went limp in its grip as tears formed in your eyes from the pain. The daggers dissipated as you could no longer focus on keeping them. You couldn’t die here. Not yet. Trying to regain feeling back in your arms, you tried to get your mind off the immense, increasing pain to that of your daggers. However, as black spots began to fill your eyesight and the cracking of your own bones, it was difficult to focus.

           Just as the thoughts of giving up crossed your mind, you widened your eyes as a large sword came hurdling straight from the sky, right into the daemon’s head. It immediately let you go as you fell to the ground, sucking in as much air as possible as you landed. Whose sword was that? Had Noctis… found you? Your head was spinning as your vision continued to worsen. You were too weak to stand up to assist whoever saved you. The sound of the daemon dying soon filled your ears and the light crunching of the ground from footsteps.

           You looked up to your savior and saw long blonde hair of a woman. The last thing you saw before falling unconscious was her smirking at you.

~!~

           “Wakey wakey, princess,” the sound of a woman’s voice filled your ears. “You can’t die yet. We still need you.”

           “W-what…?” You stuttered as you came to your senses. The pain you expected to feel wasn’t there meaning that a healing potion had probably been used on you. You were laying on a row of chairs in some sort of aircraft. A dim light lit up the small room. You blinked as you looked towards the woman and eyes widened immediately. It was the same woman who tried to kill you and Noctis before. Quickly, you jumped up, ready to attack, but immediately fell back down from the sudden rush.

           “Take it easy. We’ll be there soon enough,” She chuckled at you as she stood up. “I have to admit, you were doing pretty well at first. Daemons like though, they take a team. Speaking of which, where’s princey boy?”

           “W-what do you want?” You managed to spit out at the woman – a glare deep in your hazel eyes.

           “Me? To get paid,” she shrugged.

           “I meant with me,” You slowly sat up. Silently, you summoned your daggers just in case you had to end this woman. However, the flash of the blue light that accompanied your summoning gave you away.

           “No need to get defensive, princess. If I wanted you to die, I would’ve let that giant crush you to death. I need you alive to get my moola,” She rubbed the tips of her fingers together to represent money. After not receiving a response from you, she frowned and dropped her hand. “Listen, believe it or not but I’m on your side-“

           “Bullshit. You tried to murder-“

           “Things have changed since then. Like you, I want the Empire to fall, too,” she shrugged as she plopped down beside you. You continued to frown at the woman. Did she really expect you to believe her bullshit? She was probably leading you to your death for all you know. She felt your intense stare as she turned to you with an arch brow and let out a chuckle.

           “What’s so fucking funny?” You deepened your frown.

           “She gave me that same look one time! When she didn’t believe me when I said I hadn’t joined the Empire. Of course, I was lying then,” the woman continued to laugh to herself.

           “Who is she?!” You asked.

           “Ah… that’s right. You wouldn’t know her…” she looked at you with a bit of pity on her face. This angered you as you didn’t like strangers – especially those who tried to kill you – take pity on you.

           “Marina Y/L/N. Ring a bell?”

           Your daggers flashed away as an audible gasp escaped your mouth. “My… my-“

           “Your mom,” the woman stretched casually as she stood up before turning to you with a smirk on her face.

“Aranea Highwind. A pleasure to meet you, Lady Y/N.”

[jupitermelichios]

Jupiter’s Top 10 Fic Series of the Decade

In no particular order (and belonging to no particular fandom)

Honourable Mentions: Of Hunters & Hellblazers by KittyAug - Self Help by maskedfangirl - Bad Jokes by hahaharley - Doubtful Sanity by DustToDust - Wilton’s Bakery ‘Verse by machine_dove & sproings -  Sic Gorgiamus Allos Subjectatos Nunc by etothepii - New Favourite F Word by Polaris - little beasts by noctiphany & likewinning

drawn into something by Nonymos (Venom, Eddie/Venom, Dan/Anne, Eddie/Venom/Dan/Anne)

“Eddie, you… and him.”

“Yeah.” Eddie stares at the floor. “And… and look, Annie, I know it’s weird, but I can explain, I…”

His voice breaks, he’s damn near tearing up, panic rising again—and he jumps when Anne cups his face.

“Hey, it’s—it’s all right, Eddie.” She’s making a valiant effort to smile. “Don’t get so worked up. I’m not gonna run screaming.”

“No?” He laughs and sniffs. “Damn. Starting to wonder what it’s gonna take, at this point.”

This is not Nonymos’s only entry on this list. In fact they may just be my favourite fanfic author of all time. Drawn into something is everything everything I want from a Venom sequel, emotional, kinky, romantic, and poly.

OTP: Fight Club by MorganOfTheFey (Detroit: Become Human, RK900/Gavin)

"One hundred. Ten X," Nines says, voice flat enough it almost doesn't sound like bragging. "I would have been decommissioned otherwise."

"Ohhhh. Aw, that's sad. Just," She tries to snap her fingers and gets distracted for a moment when she can't. "Jus'like that?"

"Yeah RK, that's so sad," Gavin echoes. "Can you play yourself despacito?"

His own phone blares the song barely a second later. Gavin drops a few f-bombs fumbling to get it out of his jacket pocket and turn it off. Then as soon as he puts it back in his pocket, it starts up again.

"Thank you for the suggestion, detective," RK900 says. "This is making me feel better."

The fourth part of this is still coming out, and it’s the highlight of my week when the new chapter drops.

Dreams of the Waking Man by Lex_Munroe (Marvel Comics, Wade/Cable, Daken/Bullseye, Wade & Hope)

All at once, it hurts.  It hurts worse than the day Nate died (because Wade couldn’t accept it back then, insisted that Nate had managed to timeslide out, that the busted old telemetry circuit would only let him go forward and he was just lost for a little while).

He sits in the middle of the floor, ducks his head, cries.

She was smarter than he was—than he is.  She’d known all along.  Brave girl.

Timesliding doesn’t work right on Wade, never has, and their cobbled-together sliding module barely had power to take one stringy teenager for one jump.

She’d known she was leaving her parents, that she certainly wouldn’t see one of them again and quite possibly wouldn’t see the other.

Wade allows himself a moment more for grief and shame and humility.  Then he clears his throat and wipes his eyes and gets back to work.

This may be the cleverest fic I’ve ever read. Crossovers, theoretical physics, and the best love story Marvel never wrote.

The Mountains Are The Same by bonehandledknife & Primarybufferpanel (Mad Max: Fury Road, Furiosa/Max, Furiosa/Ace, Everyone & Healthy Coping Mechanisms)

“'Real isn’t how you are made’” Gilly said with the air of a quote, of a Remembering, “'It’s a thing that happens to you.’”

Rotor closed his eyes in a long blink, “A thing that hurts, innit it right?”

“Sometimes,” Gilly agreed, squeezing his hand, “That’s life though, when you are Real. We all become it bit by bit. But it doesn’t happen if you’re not strong, if you’re not soft, if you’re not sturdy.”

“ But how can y'be all of those at once ?” he wheezed out. It’s getting hard to catch his breath.

“You are all that right now, aren’t you?” Gilly asked him with piercing eyes, “No one else of all these Boys has had the strength to ask for me. And I will Witness you as I have kept all those of my sisters who’ve fallen these past days.”

This series is not always easy, it doesn’t shy away from the hard or the dark or the painful, but it is always worth reading.

The Unspoken Truth by Nonymos (MCU, Clint/Loki)

Barton glared at him like he was trying to decide whether he was being mocked or not, but the next second, his shoulders slumped. Loki was familiar with the feeling – that dreadful feeling of discovering something repulsive in one's own nature.

And then, he waited. He waited for Barton to think and connect the dots, to realize that an obvious solution was standing just before him, to remember how he had felt when waking up tied down, or being forced to drink down the water. The demi-god just stood there, hoping – almost praying for the first time in his life – that his enemy would look up at him with something else than hatred in his eyes.

No one writes kink quite like Nonymos writes kink, and this series is the perfect encapsulation of that.

The Stone Gryphon by rthstewart (Narnia, primarily Gen)

"Tools!" Richard was so shocked he was near speechless. He sat down heavily on the bench and began writing frantically in that strange code. "You are saying that you have observed ordinary crows use tools? Peter, that is… remarkable."

"Well, I've seen Beavers use fishing tackle and sewing machines, so it didn't seem that unusual at the time."

I’m not going to lie, this may not be to everyone’s taste. But, amateur theologian, lover of weird animal facts, and history nerd that I am, there are very few fics more exactly tailored to my interests.

Republic of Heaven Community Radio by ErinPtah (WtNV x His Dark Materials, Cecil/Carlos)

The greeting catches both her and Carlos off-guard. It's not wrong to talk directly to another person's daemon, but it's still a little weird. "Likewise," she stammers.

They're both waiting for the obvious next step, which is for Cecil to introduce his daemon. The fact that Carlos hasn't spotted her yet is understandable — a big community gathering in a small space, you get plenty of daemons breaking away from their humans to socialize directly with each other. Any of the dozen animal shapes currently within ten feet of them could be Cecil's. If his daemon has an unusually high range, there are even more possibilities.

What Cecil says instead is, "If you ever have any important experimental-theology news that you need to share with the town, call me any time! Everyone listens to my show." There's a touch of what Carlos hopes is nothing more sinister than smugness when he adds, "Everyone."

He steps out of the way to let someone else interrogate Carlos, and vanishes into the crowd. Carlos doesn't get a chance to see what daemon he leaves with.

This may be the most carefully thought out crossover I’ve ever read, and I’m a little in awe of ErinPtah’s skills.

The Soul in the Machine by missdreawrites & Troodon (Dishonoured, Corvo/Outsider)

“... Outsider?” Corvo asked, sitting down on the filthy floor. “In the published list of the people who died of the Plague… how many were registered Augments?”

<There have been a total of 231 dead in the past year. Of that group, 100% were Augmented individuals. This number has increased exponentially under Hiram Burrows’ “The Boldest Moves Are The Safest” law, allowing the execution of any individual infected by the Plague.>

“Son of a bitch, ” Corvo swore with feeling. “This is… look at this waste. We aren't even people to them, are we?” He looked down at the body next to him. “And I killed the one person who could help. I did this. I doomed an entire people to plague, and murder and…”

The cyberpunk Dishonoured AU I desperately wish I’d thought of, because it works so very well.

In Which Tony Stark Builds Himself Some Friends (But His Family Was Assigned by Nick Fury) by scifigrl47 (MCU, Steve/Tony)

“Do you know what the difference between a villain and a super villain is, Stark?” Coulson said, leaning his palms on the tabletop, looming over everything like a very snappily dressed gargoyle.

“Style?” Tony asked, pointing both index fingers in Coulson's direction like the gunslinger that he was. He added a wide grin to the gesture, but Coulson didn't seem to notice.

“A villain has a giant mass of robotic vacuum cleaners that he can sic on his enemies. A super villain gives them the ability to fly.”

“In my defense, I do not actually remember installing repulsor technology in the Roombas,” Tony said, choosing his words carefully. It had been a working theory, sure, but he still wasn't quite sure when he implemented it. Maybe sometime on Tuesday night... That one was a blur. “It was a very long couple of days. So I was as surprised by that as everyone else.”

This doesn’t really count as a rec, since everyone in the fandom has read it already, but it really wouldn’t be fair to draw up a ‘best of the 2010s’ list and not include this.

A Great and Gruesome Height by mokuyoubi (Hannibal, Will/Hannibal)

Bedelia lashes out but Will is quicker. He grabs her wrist, pressing hard between the delicate bones with his thumb, until she makes a soft noise of distress and drops the fork.

Hannibal purses his lips and leans in close to her ear. “Now that is disappointing,” he whispers, and Bedelia has the good sense to be afraid with that mouth so near her skin. He inhales her scent deeply and straightens. “I thought you and I were beyond such petty jabs.”

“Were it not for the fact that you required medical attention, I have no doubt I would have met a similarly crass ending at the hands of your pet,” she says, lip curling in disgust.

Hannibal smiles serenely and says, “Will is a creature entirely of his own making. It is not to me to guide his hand. Merely to share in the sublime perfection of his vision, when he allows it.”

There are many dark!Will stories out there, and most of them are a lot of fun, but few are quite at believable as this one.

[criticalrolo]

the more things change - Daemon AU for Cassiopeia and Limwen

Fletcher is the one who spots them for the first time. He’s always been a bit more perceptive than she is, and once he’d settled into his little sparrow form, he’d taken a liking to darting into the air to do a quick scan of the area before perching on her shoulder to whisper in her ear about all the lovely things he’d seen so they could go off exploring together.

They’ve made their way into some sort of bazaar, a fantastically busy marketplace full of bright lights and colorful tapestries that dazzles both of them. The moon is shining over head while the torches and strings of magical lights held in little glass balls bathe the area in a warm yellow orange glow. Cass cranes her head around, taking in the sights and sounds of people haggling and bartering around her. Even the stall owners’ daemons are getting in on the action. Cass is delighted to see a brightly-dressed tiefling and his hedgehog daemon both animatedly trying to convince an elf woman with a silver and blue butterfly resting on her finger to buy a set of ornate kitchen knives.

A few feet above her head, Fletcher is darting back and forth between the strings of lights. He can get farther away from her than most people would be able to stand, which Cass chalks up to both of their insatiable curiosity. A little bit of uncomfortable stretching was nothing compared to the rush they both felt at getting to see something completely new. Still, a few people give her nervous glances as she walks by. One human’s little mouse daemon actually squeaks and hides in the hood of their human’s cloak for a moment before making the connection between her and the small brown bird swooping through the sky. Cass gives them a bright smile, aiming to reassure them, before hurrying on.

It’s a bit of a surprise when she feels Fletcher settle on the top of her head a few minutes later. He looked like he’d been having so much fun flitting around. Cass picks him up gently and rubs the top of his fluffy brown head with a finger, feeling the familiar tingle down her own spine when she touches him.

“Hey, what happened?” she asks. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself up there.”

“You’ll never guess what I saw over on the other side of those stalls,” Fletcher says, fluffing up his feathers enthusiastically. “I’ve never seen someone with a daemon like that before.”

Cass raises her eyebrows. “What are you talking about? Is it really big or pretty or…?”

Fletcher tilts his head to the side. “I don’t want to spoil the surprise, Cass. But you have to come check this out.” He lifts his wings and takes off into the air again, this time mostly circling around her head as he guides her through the crowd towards the other side of the marketplace. Cass jostles a few people who grumble at her as she passes by. She’s careful to avoid both toes and tails while scooting between wooden shelves and canvas walls until she pops out on the other side, scanning the street for whatever Fletcher said he saw.

She swivels her head. Everything seems normal to her. Just people and their daemons, milling about, the scent of spices and perfume heady in the air, until she sees…

Her eyes widen. “Woah.”

Across the way from where Cass is half hidden in the shadow of a stall is a tall elven woman with long black hair and a sharp, angular face. When she turns her head to the side, Cass can see that it’s practically bisected by a scar that cuts through one cheek and down through her lip. She’s wearing a long grey cloak and has a bow and quiver of arrows strapped to her back, and she seems to be arguing with a merchant over something by the way she’s gesturing.

But by far, the most striking thing about her is the enormous orange tiger loping at her side, swiveling his striped head around and staring at passing customers with piercing green eyes. Most people do a double take at seeing such a large animal in a crowded marketplace, and a couple even jump aside when the tiger flashes his fangs at them.

“Holy shit,” Cass says.

Fletcher lands on her shoulder. “They’re getting as many stares as we usually do.”

“I wanna go talk to her,” Cass says, moving out of the shadow of the stall and heading towards the woman and her tiger.

“Cass – wait, what are you planning to say?”

“I’ll figure it out when I get there,” Cass says. She’s not sure what it is, but it feels important that she get over there right now. There’s something charged in the air, some kind of energy moving through the fabric of this plane of existence that tells her something’s coming and she has to know what it is.

The woman seems to finish up her argument, sliding a coin across the counter in exchange for a bundle of arrows that she stows away in her quiver immediately. Cass picks up her speed, trying to catch up as the woman and the tiger start to move away at a brisk pace.

Her eyes are locked on the woman, then, when the tiger perks his ears up. Over the crowd, because she’s so focused, she hears him say in a deep rumbling voice, “Limwen, I think –”

Cass sees the woman’s form blink and shift for a second, glitching unnaturally in the street. That energy she felt before is stronger now, gathering in waves around her and the elf. She shifts from speed walking to an all-out sprint, Fletcher twittering in confusion in her ear as she closes the distance between them.

The woman stops in the street, clutching one hand into her daemon’s fur, when Cass skids to a stop in front of her. She blinks in confusion, taking in Cass’s pink and purple form and the little brown bird nestled on her head, before the world twists around them both and she starts to disappear.

“Grab her!” Fletcher says, flapping his wings frantically.

Cass doesn’t know what’s come over him or where this strange energy is coming from, but she immediately sticks her hand out and grabs onto the woman’s wrist. The universe warps around her – around them both – in a strange way that glitters with unexplored energy and untapped potential, before twisting itself back into something recognizable and solid.

Cass and the woman fall to the grass covered ground, with light streaming through tree branches overhead to dapple them both in warm golden sunshine. For a second, they both just lay there, panting slightly as they readjust to the new surroundings. The woman, (Limwen, the daemon tiger called her,) stretches out her hand to bury it in her daemon’s thick orange fur.

“Revion…?” she murmurs. Her voice is hoarser than Cass had expected, like she doesn’t get the opportunity to use it all that much. The tiger purrs low in response and buries his head against her shoulder.

All of a sudden, it hits Cass exactly what just happened and she bolts upright. Fletcher flits up with her, nestling in against her cheek.

Limwen and Revion twist their heads to the side to look at her in one synchronized motion. It would be adorable if the twin silver and green stares didn’t feel like they were piercing all the way through to her core somehow.

“Who are you?” Limwen asks. She sits up as well, Revion pressing against her side protectively. “How did you… did you follow me here?”

“Oh my gosh!” Cass gasps in delight. She beams and grabs Limwen’s gloved hands with her own. “You’re just like me!”

Cassiopeia’s daemon: Fletcher (eurasian tree sparrow)

Limwen’s daemon: Revion (sumatran tiger)

[writingamongtheroses-archive]

Hell’s Studio, Chapter 11

"...What?"

"You can help me," Max said, turning to her. The insane glint seemed to have gotten brighter. "You're not Walt, but you're still his blood. That might just be enough to trick the Machine."

Suzie took a step back, hands held up in a gesture of peace. "Look, I don't know...what are you doing exactly?" Everything in her was screaming for her to turn and run, find some hole where this man could never find her. But she had to stay. For Grandma Laika.

For Walt.

Max stared at her for a second before chuckling. "Isn't it obvious? I'm creating A NEW WORLD!" His yell echoed in the space as he threw his arms up in a grand gesture. He was grinning brightly. "Look at all this around you, this reality that bends or even breaks the laws of our own! Anything is possible here, the only limit is your own imagination!" His grin looked ready to break his face. "Think about it, Suzanna. Think about what this could mean for the animation industry, the world when we introduce it!"

"Introduce it..." Suzie mumbled. Her eyes widened in horror when she realized what he was saying. "You want to introduce this..."

"Yes!" He pointed at her with a grand, sweeping motion of his arm. Max had clearly mistaken the emotion in her voice because his grin had only gotten wider. "I knew you'd catch on quickly, just like your grandpa! Just think about it! In a world of toons, who would have to fear untimely death, when you can simply bounce back from what hit you? Who would have to worry about growing old, when age simply becomes a number? Disease, famine, even wars like the one that took Walt away, they would all be a thing of the past!" He turned to stroke the metal surface of the machine. "There are so many possibilities, countless possibilities, and it's all possible thanks to my machine."

"You're crazy!"

He froze.

Suzie gulped. "Do...do you even see?! What you did to Mr. Ron a-and Ms. Buss and Ms. Simmons- that isn't a miracle!" She took a step closer, hoping he would understand. "That's murder! What you did to me...none of this is a miracle! Ron is dead because you never told Daemon humans aren't like toons!"

"I NEVER WANTED THIS TO HAPPEN TO THEM!" Max whirled around, the sharp motion making Suzie flinch back. "But I had to! I had already come so far, turning back would have wasted everything!"

There was going to be no saving him.

Was there?

Max let out a sigh. "I had hoped you would at least see the good this would bring when I brought you here. Clearly, that was a mistake. But I've come too far to stop now, and if you're going to get in my way, Walt, then that means you're an enemy-" Suzie would've groaned if she hadn't heard the door open.

Wolfie, ears flat against his head, was poking his head in. "I heard yelling," he said softly, looking rather frightened. "Is...everything' okay?"

Suzie tried her best to smile. "I...Everything is going to be fine, just go back out-" She cut herself with a scream when a scorning sensation hit her back and flooded her with pain. She hit the floor with another scream. It crept down her back, her legs refusing to respond when she tries to move. So far, any pain she had experienced here had been dulled by her toon form. This was too real. She managed to force a hand to her side. Her hand came back black.

She could hear Wolfie let out a panicked shout of her name as she glanced back.

Her legs looked half-melted. What was worse was standing a yard away. Soundberg, hands covered by gloves, held a bottle. It was clear that whatever it had held had been thrown at her. She looked away before she started to cough. Something warm that still smelled like copper dribbled down her cheek. She felt gloved hands help her sit up.

"Mr. Max...why?" Wolfie whimpered, eyes filling with unshed tears. He was desperately looking around, looking for answers.

"He was going to betray us. Like last time." Max, cool as a cucumber, threw the bottle over his shoulder. It shattered. "I couldn't let him do that."

"B-But this is-!"

"Necessary," Max said, cutting Wolfie off. He either didn't notice or care that the wolf was staring at him in shock, moving to his desk. He opened a drawer to pull out a coil of rope. He threw it at them. "Tie him up, and then leave us. I need Walt alive for this." There was a pause. "Well?"

Wolfie finally snapped out of the shock, staring at him in open, undisguised disbelief. "W-what-? Mr. Max, this isn't right!"

"Wolfie, I'm not going to repeat myself. If Walt here won't work with me willingly, we must make him work for me. Now, tie him up!"

"D-Don't yell at him." Suzie managed out. "I and Walt are the ones you're mad at."

Max's eyes snapped to her, a snarl curling his face "That you have. You want to ruin everything I've built! This world, this machine that can change so much for the better!"

"Your world's poisoned," Suzie coughed out, feeling more ink blood roll down her chin. "It might be fine for toons, but it's not for humans! It's just not!"

"It could be. It will be."

"And how many will die for it?" she spat out in response.

Max didn't answer. Instead, he began to stride to them, nostrils flaring, "Move aside, Wolfie. If you won't do as you're told, then I'll just do it myself."

The wolf toon didn't answer. Suzie craned her neck, watching as a very deep and very unsettled realization came upon the toon. The grip on her shoulders tightened as he moved to stare at Max. He looked like he was seeing the man for the first time. "She's right..."

There was silence.

Max had frozen.

"...what did you say?"

"Suzie's right," Wolfie repeated, louder. "This world...what happened to everyone. There's something wrong with Daemon, my pal! Max, I... I didn't want to think you were lyin' to us! I don't wanna think that everything you showed about yourself wasn't true! But this," he glanced back at the mess of ink that Suzie's legs were. "This isn't what toons do!"

There was silence.

It was broken by a chuckle. Max had started laughing, the sound high-pitched and hysterical. "She- He's actually turned you against me! You, of all people!" Suzie groaned, realizing what turn this conversation was taking. "I created you, gave you life, and this is how you-" Max was cut off as a banjo slammed over his head. It broke with a smash and the twanging of strings. The man let out a yell of pain. Wolfie, arms still brought low, look frightened.

"Wolfie, Wolfie you gotta go-" Suzie's frantic whispers were broken when determination replaced the fear and he grabbed her. A pulse of pain raced through her systems when he grabbed her and hauled her over his shoulder like a sack. Wolfie turned and ran out the doors, Max's yelling following them.

"You're mine! Do you hear me, Walt Klasky?! MINE!"

Wolfie ran as if their lives depended on it, which they probably did. He changed directions randomly, sprinting down a few staircases, and skipping through rooms until they were far from the room with the poisonous Machine and the insane Max. "We should be safe here." the wolf said as he set her on the floor, leaning against the wall. He whimpered when he took in her legs. "What did he use?"

"Acetone, it looks like," Suzie said after taking another look. "Cartoonists back in the day used it as ink remover..." She stopped when she noticed Wolfie's ears moving downwards. "I'm sure he wasn't going to use it against you guys."

"He might now," Wolfie said softly. He had a point. Suzie sighed before patting him on the head. He hummed at the affection. After a minute, he pulled away with a small smile. "I have an idea on how to fix your legs!"

"Great, we need to move soon." Maybe talk to Peace and Daemon...something was shoved into her hand. She glanced at it. "What am I supposed to do with this bottle of ink?"

"Drink it!"

...

Okay.

@andiwriteunderthemoon

[contre-qui-rose]

Umbra - Chapter Two (Crawl Home)

There are stories to tell, nightmares to face, and a husband to save.

  There are alchemist’s supplies broken and scattered throughout the beams and bricks of what used to be a shop, broken bottles and vials scattered amongst the dirt that’s blown in. He finds a burnt toy, near unrecognizable, but no bodies.

 Cobal is flying around the tops of the burnt walls, peering into corners and broken beams and cracks. He drops something small and gold into Nott’s palm, and she clenches her fist around the button that he had found.

 They don’t talk as they dig through the building, not until he hears Nott curse under her breath as she tries to get the basement door open, picks slipping in and out of the lock.

 “Fuck - Jester?” She asks, pocketing the picks, and stepping back from the door.

 Jester nods at her, and she lifts Sprinkle off her shoulders and places her on the floor, stepping back a few feet before sprinting towards the door and ramming herself into it.

 It doesn’t budge.

 Jester steps back again, and looks towards Yasha, who steps in line with her.

 Jester and Yasha’s attempts to try and ram into the door don’t succeed.

 “Nott, I don’t know why it’s not working. Maybe it’s - maybe it’s magicked?” Jester places her palm on the door, and frowns. Sprinkle climbs up the back of her skirts and lays herself around her horns, peering at the door.

 “Why would it be - that doesn’t make any sense, Jester, it’s just a fucking basement.” Nott tugs a hand through her hair, claws catching on the braids and tearing a few pieces out along the way. She doesn’t seem to notice.

 Jester whispers something under her breath, and then with a click the door opens, ajar now, a dark set of steps leading down beneath the house.

 Nott stares at the door, takes another swig from her flask, and scurries through.

 That was an arcane lock, then.

 On a door to an apothecary’s root cellar.

 He ties his leather strip around his leg and casts mage armor absentmindedly as they all head downstairs. This -

 He doesn’t trust this, not this town, not this house, and not a basement being arcanely locked like that.

 The basement is wrecked. Not in the same way that the shop above was, no burn and scorch marks, but wrecked all the same, broken glass and papers strewn about the room. There’s a single chest and chair, in the dead center of the room. The room is wrecked, but that chair is perfect and stable and pristinely set in the center of this room.

 He moves in closer, and wracks his brain for memories of what this could be - it does not remind him of torture, not like this, not necessarily, but it was placed here after whatever wrecked this room came through. Someone was here after, was here and placed that chair -

 While he was investigating the chair, Nott had pried open the chest and is standing in the room, mask around her neck, staring at a metal tripod and a vial of something golden and glimmering in her hands. She glances back up at him, and Cobal grabs it in his beak and carries the vial over, dropping it in his hands.

 Reaching back down, she pulls up a long sheet of parchment and unfolds it, golden eyes scanning the page.

 She keeps reading, and then looks up at him, and then back down, and then up again.

 “As we start to invoke the beacon with focused energies of different spectrums and sources, the effects unleashed are curious, and reach far beyond this laboratory. The astrological arcane field -”

 Astrological arcane -

 His eyes widen as he listens to Nott read off the letter, first at the mention of the beacon and then impossibly wider at the mention of astrological arcanum.

 He knows - he knows what that is. Impossibly, he knows what that is, but if the beacon is tied to that -

 “- sightlessly encompassed an entire portion of the town, with locals complaining of strained daemon bonds with no cause. Others, during different experiments, reported witnessing people and their daemons having inexplicable range increases, of men and woman with limited ranges suddenly capable of having their daemons move hundreds of feet in any direction. Others too reported seeing fully settled adult daemons shifting again, of temporary unsettlements. We de-legitimized these rumors by spreading a batch of molded fruit crop, but the stories show the power of what we are dealing with here.”

 Nott pauses reading, and her face twists. “What is this - what’s the beacon?”

 Fjord takes the tripod looking object from Nott’s loose grasp and peers at the tip of it, where there’s space for something to be laid to rest.

 He glances at Caleb, and jerks his head at him. “D’you think the dodeca would fit in this?”

 He -

 Hm.

 “Ja, I think so.”

 Jester takes the parchment from Nott and continues reading, her accent tripping over the vowels and consonants.

 “Based on our previous experiments and extracted techniques from captured Krynn operatives, the abilities of astrological particles and arcane astrology within Xhorhas reaches far beyond our own understanding. Yet, even so, even with this magic being far outside the realms of the nominally accepted schools of magic -”

 “The next part is unreadable, you guys, it’s just a burn mark.”

 “- … it proves extremely difficult to work with. Attempts to isolate aether using the beacon and its properties continue to prove time consuming, but still it is considerably less time consuming, this method, than the original harvesting process.”

 “What’s aether?” Nott peers at the parchment, frown firmly etched onto her face, and Cobal perches above her on top of her head.

 He knows what aether is.

 Knows, quite possibly, too well what aether is. They were trying to find a new source of it -

 Who?

 Nott picks up the parchment again and reads on. “In the past weeks, we have successfully distilled a vial of refined aether from the beacon. Eventually, based on this process, I should be able to have the alchemist gather aether from this plane even without the presence of the beacon, or any interference from the astral plane… Word has found me of -”

 Nott’s voice falters, and then picks up again, reading faster and louder, her eyes flickering between the parchment and Caleb.

 “- of Trent’s experiments with astrological arcanum, and of a possibility for those experiments as well to influence this process. I am eager to incorporate his findings into my work - Imagine - what could be accomplished by the assembly and throng should we further learn how to control the flow of dust.”

 Trent’s experiments.

 (Him. His friends. The three years he spent under him, and the eleven years he spent as an insect under glass.)

 His hands are shaking, he notes wildly, and Frumpkin’s claws are biting into his shoulder.

 Nott hands the parchment back to Jester and paces, frantic energy burning in her. Jester scans through the parchment and pulls another piece off, this one more tattered than the other but still intact, still readable.

 “The artifact that we have uncovered from within the beacon is also of notable news, though it is useless to us at this current venture. As previously reported, staring into the beacon for any length of time results in almost a raptured state of possibility. While I was within this state, my attention ensnared by the beacon’s potential, my assistant took me for bewitched and cast remove curse upon the object. While this spell did nothing to break the beacon’s thrall, it did result in the eruption of an object from within the beacon itself. There was an alethiometer contained within this vessel. I’ve never seen one in person, but the illustrations at the academy do it no justice. However, none here, not even the alchemist, had any talent at reading it. If a person can be procured for the service of the assembly in regard to the use of this object, the impacts it could generate on the war effort and our larger goals is astronomical. The Kyrnn have more control over dust than we do. But with this - with this we could even the playing field, and defeat those cricks once and for all in pursuit of our larger goals.”

 Sprinkle stares at the parchment, blinking in confusion, and then looks up to the rest of the group. “It just stops there. Caleb - Frumpkin - what’s an alethiometer?”

 Frumpkin bares his teeth, and his claws sink just a touch deeper into his shoulder. “It’s - something from the Age of Arcanum. There aren’t supposed to be any left.”

 Beauregard stares at them, and then at Nott, who eyes are narrowed into slits, still shining in the light that Caduceus generated in the room but shining with unshed tears and anger.

 “Nott - how does your friend fit into all this?” He asks, and Nott glances at the paper.

 It starts to wrinkle in her clenched fists.

 “I don’t know. He’s - he’s an excellent alchemist. They would need someone like that, but the Xhorhasians weren’t - they weren’t doing this. Someone else was. Right?”

 He cuts a hand over his throat as Nott creeps closer towards his past, but she ignores him, eyes too bright and hands steadier than her voice.

 “Your people,” she says, and he can feel his face blanch white as the room goes fuzzier along the edges.

 Beauregard glances at him, and then back at Nott, and repeats, “Your people - “before realization crosses her face and she jumps, eyes flickering between the two of them.

 He can do nothing but watch as Nott continues on.

 “Your people - your people were doing experiments and trying to find out and harness the power of these beacons -” she sees his hand gestures and throws her hands up into the air, Cobal flashing his wings as well above her head, “What?! It’s your people! It’s the people that you know and trained with.”

 Beauregard cuts in, quietly, but still too loud in this tiny room, where the walls are closing in and he can hardly breath through the panic that surrounds him.

 “It’s because they haven’t - he hasn’t, in terms of -”

 “Well, fuck him -” Nott says, Cobal cawing above her, and he feels his hands shake and his muscles lock up and before he knows it he’s managed to vomit on the ground in front of him, Frumpkin pricking his claws into the back of his neck and both of them reeling on their feet.

 He misses what happens next, but Caduceus is holding him as they climb out of the basement, Frumpkin being supported by Vrokin and Joeria as he stumbles alongside the group. Nott is still ranting to Jester and Beauregard, and his mind is whirring like cicadas in summer with terror, because Ikithon is involved with this, involved with his friends, and there are mages here that he knows of, that may very well know of him, know of broken students that ran from asylum -

 He’s standing again on his own power when they press through the broken streets to a different house. Nott is in the front, disguised once again but different this time, a halfling woman with darker skin and braids, a dress covered in flowers and buttons and ribbons, more noticeable than anything he’s seen her wear in the past. Even her daemon is disguised, something she never usually bothers with, and Cobal’s typically black feathers are masked with a cover of shining purple and greens, grays and whites and blacks, of a typical pigeon.

 He’s still barely aware of what’s happening around him when Nott knocks on the door, mind still wrapped up in his past and what it means for his friends’ futures.

 But the words that come from his friend, his goblin friend that he has known for months upon months and would trust with his life, with his daemon, with his soul, bring him out of his mind and shockingly to the present.

 “Edith,” she says, when the door opens to reveal an older woman, hair and skirts tied back, white muzzled daemon at her side. “It’s me.”

 She sighs, and meets the woman’s shocked eyes.

 “Where’s my son?”

 For a moment, the only sound around then is Jester’s sharp intake of breath and the rush of wind through the streets.

 Edith reaches up and rubs at her eyes, and then drops her hands and stares at Nott.

 Her daemon leans a little closer into her side.

 “I - I thought you were dead,” Edith whispers, and Nott gives a little broken laugh.

 “I’m not. Let me see him right now -” and Cobal gives a coo from above her heard, just short of sounding like an actual pigeon but similar enough to make it work.

 Edith’s eyes widen and she trips over her words, hands wringing the fabric of her grey stained apron. “My goodness - Luke? Luke?!”

 Around the doorway, in this house, a halfling child - small, terrifyingly so, with shaggy brown hair and blue eyes and skin the same color as Nott’s disguise - peeks around.

 “Yeah?” He starts, and then stops when he sees Nott.

 He stumbles forwards a few steps, knocking his knees into the door frame. “Daddy said that the goblins killed you -” he says, a tear starting to track its way down his face, and Caleb is just watching this in silence, his mind whirring, his friends around them silent and shell shocked.

 “No - they didn’t.”

 The child’s - Luke’s daemon flits up onto his shoulder, moth-shaped, and then twists into a pigeon, and then a mouse, and then a ferret that winds her way around his shoulders.

 Nott hands him the doll of King Bertrand, hands shaking. “I brought you that, and other toys - How are you? Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

 Luke stares.

 “Edith says Daddy went away to help with the war, but I think she’s lying. He’s probably dead too, like I thought you were.”

 He glances at Nott, and she’s shaking, fists clenched by her sides. Caduceus lays a hand on his shoulder, glancing at him in turn, and Caduceus just whispers, “Breathe.”

 He takes a breath, and then another, slowing down where he had been breathing too hard, too fast.

 He doesn’t understand.

 “No, no no no - He’s alive. I know he is. Did they touch you?” Nott reaches towards Luke, but the boy just flinches away, daemon going mouse shaped again.

 “No. Daddy sends me away when the mean lady comes by.”

 Cobal flaps his way down and perches on Nott’s wrist, balancing precariously there in an attempt to get closer to Luke. “Gosh, it’s wonderful to see you, Luke -” he says, at the same time Nott says, “The mean lady? What does she - what does she look like? Who is she -”

 Cobal hops to the ground and Nott stutters forward, sweeping up Luke in a tight hug and carefully avoiding touching his daemon, who goes moth shaped again at her movement and flutters a few feet above his head.

 Nott’s voice is muffled where she had he head nearly in the child’s sweater. “Cobal and I, we’re so - so happy to see you and Korvit.”

 She places Luke down again, and Korvit lands on his shoulder.

 He doesn’t meet his mother’s (?) eyes. “The mean lady, with the pointy ears.” He traces up by his own ears, rounded as some halflings are, and points upward.

 It’s cute. It’s heartbreaking.

 “And the swan.”

 His daemon flutters to the ground, and then in a second turns into a smaller swan, with an orange beak and black markings.

 It’s terrifyingly the same species as Lady DeRogna’s daemon, the same coloration, the same markings.

 He exchanges a glance with Fjord, and the half-orc nods at him.

 Nott finishes up talking to Luke, and the boy half-runs back into the house, away from them. Edith sighs, pushing her hair out her face, and her daemon touches his nose to Cobal’s beak, where the crow/pigeon is still perched on the ground.

 “Sorry, Edith.”

 The older woman shakes her head. “I’m just happy to see you alive, Veth. I’ll watch Luke. Is there anything I can do… Veth, I’m sorry about Yeza.”

 Nott stops her and bites her lip. “Do you have - family elsewhere, out of the village?”

 Edith says no.

 “Is this - I don’t - are there any strong - how do I,” she mutters, and Jester steps forward, an unnatural seriousness on her face.

 “You need somewhere safe, for them, yeah?”

 Nott nods, frantically, and looks back at Edith. Her hands fumble towards her belt, and then she practically throws a coin purse at the woman.

 “Here - here, take this. It’s two hundred - buy new locks, or a better door or -”

 Caduceus plants a palm on Nott’s shoulder, and squeezes gently. “You could send them to Alfield. I’m sure Bryce and Lorena would be welcoming.”

 Nott stares at him, eyes wide. “What if the next attack is there, I can’t -”

 Beauregard says, quietly, “I don’t think they necessarily found what they were looking for, when they came here, but I think they didn’t find it and they might move on.”

 Nott tenses, her hands clutching at the illusory folds of the dress she’s wearing. “I can’t just leave him here, Beau, not -”

 “If you don’t feel comfortable here, you should tell them to go to Alfield,” Fjord adds in, and Beauregard nods at him.

 “Look - Veth, wherever you go, whatever you want me to do - this is more than enough for us to get out of town for a while. I want to keep your boy safe.”

 Nott nods, and wipes a tear off her face.

 “We’ll - stay here for now, and we’ll send you a message with, with what to do. And thank you, Edith -”

 “He’s a good boy, Veth. You did good.”

 She smiles, and her daemon nudges Cobal back out the door.

 “Take care of yourself.”

 The door shuts, and together they are standing outside this intact home, only a few hundred feet away from the remains of the apothecary, staring at Nott in concern and confusion.

 They move as a unit back into the cart - he lies down again when they spot Lady DeRogna and De’leth moving towards the apothecary, and Caduceus steers the horses off the street and towards the edge of town, moving somewhere on Nott’s whispered suggestions.

 —

 Caduceus drives the cart while they sit in the back, under a tarp, too close for his comfort and too distant in the same measure.

 They’re just driving in a slow loop towards the river, meandering as to not draw suspicion, and Nott is sitting silent in the back, everyone staring at her.

 Jester breaks the silence.

 “Hey - Nott? What the fuck.”

 Sprinkle nods in agreement from her position around Jester’s shoulders.

 Frumpkin slinks off of his own shoulders and drops to the floor of the cart, jostling slightly with the movement of the wheels over the cobblestones. “That’s a good question, but - we just stole some very important things, it seems like, and the owners were going into that building - we need to leave.”

 Nott growls, fierce but low. “We can’t - we can’t leave! I mean, you all can leave, but I need to stay.”

 Caleb places a hand on his daemon’s back, and he sighs, thoughts trapped and trembling. “Is this person you’re looking for - do you know? Do you have any ideas?”

 “I don’t know - I don’t know where he is, but I know that I need to look, and start looking now, and you all can go if you want, but…” Nott bristles, and Cobal settles in her hair as the illusion drops and both are back to goblin and crow.

 “We’ll stay, Nott.” Jester places her hand on Nott’s knee and squeezes, gentle and cautious.

 He glances around the cart, and meets Fjord’s gaze, eyes narrowed slightly, yellow and dull in the semi-darkness of the cart.

 “Caleb, are you worried about another attack?”

 Frumpkin’s fur poofs up imperceptibly to anyone but himself (and maybe Caduceus, whose eyes see too many things to count that others don’t), but he’s bristling all the same.

 “What are you so nervous about?” Sprinkle stares at Frumpkin.

 His voice is as steady as he can make it, and he says, “We were - we were being watched, as we came through here. Those people - we stand out, as a group. We don’t want to be noticed, not like that.”

 Caduceus stops the cart by a bend in the river, the closet building now a distance away, only the faint outlines of fields, soldiers, and farmhouses visible in the fog.

 Jester pokes Sprinkle and sits up, her hand slipping off of Nott’s knee.

 “Nott - was that your son? Are you even a goblin?”

 Nott - she just sighs, and he watches her sink down lower, knees coming up towards her chest.

 “As a group - I feel like we’re united by dishonesty -” and she ignores the disagreeing noises Caduceus and Jester make, smiling faintly, “- some of us, at least. For me - it’s like an armor I’ve put on to protect you all from my past, from regrets, from me, and for others it’s like a chain dragging them down and keeping them there - but.”

 She sighs, again. “What do you want to know?”

 Fjord leans foward, but his mouth stays shut. It’s Tirley who edges her way closer to the line of his shoulder and whispers, “Are you a goblin?”

 Jester chimes, “Is that your son for real?”

 He has an inkling of where this is going, and he knows -

 This isn’t going to be a story with a happy ending, or a happy beginning, or a happy middle, even.

 And it’s not.

 (It’s Nott.)

 Nott tells them a story of a halfling girl and her daemon, of a halfling boy and his daemon, of childhood bullies and kisses on a dare and falling in love. Of collecting things, stamps and seals and stones and secrets, buttons and boulders and brilliant things. Of a son and a daemonling, tiny and perfect and theirs. Of a winter so harsh, of goblins that came and took them, of capture and confinement and escape -

 The story of how Veth Brenatto and Cobal, halfling and pigeon, wife to Yeza Brenatto and Iridi, mother to Luke Brenatto and Korvit - how that woman lived and loved and drowned and died.

 Everyone - this group that they have formed, beaten and broken in their own ways but still together, still a group - stares at Nott (Veth -) as she keeps going.

 “They brought me to this river and drowned me in it. I can feel the water, in my lungs and my ears and my nose - and I died, and then I woke up, and I was different, and Cobal was different, and it was terrifying and wrong and I died and woke up a monster, with a daemon that was barely recognizable.”

 She rubs her nose, and Cobal clacks his beak. He says, lowly, “We died, and both came back different and wrong. We aren’t even - our range doesn’t exist anymore. When we woke up, I could fly for miles and miles and miles and nothing would happen. It didn’t hurt, it didn’t pull - it’s like I’m not even her daemon anymore. I’m just - here, and wrong.”

 They need to - her family is alive, or dead, but missing all the same, and they need to find him.

 Caduceus brings up a good point, about looking into Yeza and how cautious they need to be in that - (more secrets, his mind whispers, and shoves that thought away) venture.

 “I’m sorry - Caleb,” Nott Veth says, and he starts, Frumpkin’s tail twitching.

 “I’m sorry for what I said before. I feel like - part of what we’ll need to do to find him is to know what he was doing before he was taken, and that involves you.”

 Beauregard stares at him knowingly, and he can feel the weight of the other’s eyes on him as well.

 “I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do, but - I need you. I need you to tell me what you know, what these people might be doing, or might have taken him to, or done with him.”

 His attention fades in and out of the next conversation, too much focused inward on what he’s going to tell these people, what truth he can share without forcing their hand, without them leaving him in the dust where he belongs but is too selfish to drop him there himself, on photograms and dust and walls of steel and blades -

 He blinks, and Caduceus is steering the cart through the fields of Felderwin, meandering and avoiding any other people on the road.

 While he was - thinking, he guesses, though spiraling may be the better word for it - Jester has sent word to Bryce to expect Luke and Edith in Alfield, and Beau and Jester have discussed a previous lie surrounding her mentor.

 The conversation has cycled back around without him, and while he was just - staring at the cart floor, at Frumpkin, at Veth (Nott? He needs to ask.) - Jester is staring at him, and Beauregard, and Fjord, and Veth is staring back.

 “Caleb - we can tell you’re really scared, and that’s okay, to be scared. We just don’t know why.” Sprinkle slides down Jester’s arm and clings to her wrist as she lowers her onto the floor of the cart.

 He -

 (He can’t do this, can’t reveal himself and what he did and the fire that burns in his mind to these people, to his friends, his family)

 He takes a breath, and then another, Frumpkin’s tail lashing against the floor of the cart again, his own spine tingling with anxiety

 “Your name was - Veth.”

 Nott nods, and Cobal whispers, “It was.”

 He nods back.

 “Mine was, was - Bren Aldric Ermendrud, and.” Frumpkin places a paw on his leg, and he takes another shaking breath. “Lichion,” his daemon says, the name familiar on his cat’s tongue.

 His friends stare at him in relative silence, and he continues on.

 “I am from - from Rexxentrum. We attended the Soltryce Academy, and I was plucked by one of the Cerberus Assembly with a few others, and was being trained to do the kind of things that I fear may have been done to- to Yeza.”

 (Not lies, not yet - not the whole truth - he is not from Rexxentrum, he is from Blumenthal, a tiny town with a tinier populace, but that is harder to explain, his life there that he destroyed)

 “A lot of - a lot of big plans for me didn’t pan out, and I.”

 He laughs, and Veth almost flinches back at the sound. “The others - they. They didn’t make it, neither of them. And we ran. We’ve been on the run for - for a long time, and I was tired of starving, and I met you, Nott, you and Cobal. I have just - I have been afraid for a long time, and two of the people in that town over there are on the Cerberus Assembly. And I - I know who they are, and what they do, and they would know of me, and I couldn’t take the chance of them seeing me, and finding me - but if those people are involved with your husband -”

 He stops, words locking themselves in his throat.

 Jester furrows her brows, face cautious, and asks, “Are they high up then?”

 “One of them is the head of the Cerberus Assembly.” Frumpkin huffs, and curls up, tail crossing over his folded legs.

 He ignores Jester’s swear in the background. Fjord is looking at him, and he asks as well, “Caleb - Bren. You knew that I wanted to go to Soltryce, you -”

 He starts shaking his head as Fjord says his name, and then shakes harder at his words. “No that’s not - nein. The academy itself isn’t - there are good teachers, good students, brilliant ways to learn magic. But I was only there for a few months, and one of the Assembly - he taught sometimes, but not a lot - he. He took me and two others, in an advanced class of sort - I don’t want you all to be seen with me, because if they see you with me, they will use you to get to me.”

 Nott winces. “I mean - I don’t want them to see me either because they’ll kill me and everyone I’m with, anyone in town, so I think hiding is our game, now.”

 He nods.

 “You all - you met the man who trained me. Trent Ikithon, and - Flaris.”

 Ikithon’s daemon was a massive white furred and antlered deer, that had been silent in every encounter he had with him. He was - terrifying, and wrong, but Ikithon had made them see it as a strength.

 “I - I’m worried about your husband. I know the things that they can do.”

 Frumpkin moves and curls in his lap, and with unsteady hands he unlaces the winding bandages that cover his arms, that he doesn’t remove unless necessary, that no one here has really seen him without, not until now.

 Thin scars lance their way up his arms, and he knows without looking which ones contained which crystals, which ones ripped when placed, which ones became infected and nearly killed him later, which ones still hurt even now.

 “He used to - he would put crystals in us, experiment on us, on the three of us.”

 He looks up, and Beauregard is staring at him in horror, because - he’s told her and Nott parts of his story.

 Of the torture and killing, of the graduation tests, of what -

 Of what happened to Eodwulf and Astrid after Ikithon broke him.

 But he hadn’t told them this part, because it had been too much then and it’s too much now, but they need to know, need to know what Ikithon does to people, what he has plotting within him.

 “What would they do? The crystals?” Nott asks, and he blinks, coming out of his thoughts.

 “He was.”

 He cocks his head, considering, and pivots.

 “Do you all know about - about photograms?”

 His companions around him nod. Photograms are - they had been invented as a way of studying astral particles - studying dust, nearly twenty years ago by an alchemist member of the Arcana Pansophical and some tinkerers in Tal Do’rei. They could take a painting, almost, of something happening in real time and superimpose it over a canvas, but you wouldn’t see the details of anything - just outlines, dark shapes. What they did do was come out painted in swathes of brilliant gold, showing the flow of dust around a person, morphing around their daemon, around anything with conscious thought.

 Those same tinkerers had morphed that technology to create photograms of people, not dust, some ten odd years ago. It had spread quickly, despite the expense and finicky nature of the process.

 He doubted that any of them, save maybe Beauregard and Jester and himself, had ever had a photogram taken, or even seen a capture device.

 “He was trying to make us stronger. And - he wanted to, to document it. So, everything we did, he took photograms. This was just after they were invented. It probably cost - hundreds of thousands of gold, to do that. But he took them, during everything we did with the crystals and without, and experimented.”

 He laughs, again, dark and edging on hysterical. “He wanted us to be strong. He thought - that the unwashed masses relied on their base instincts and the highest calling was to rise above the muck, rise above your daemon and dust and destiny and control the cattle for the good of all.”

 Sprinkle whispers, “Caleb…”

 Jester scoops her up and she scrabbles back to her usual position around the teifling’s neck. “He wanted you to - rise above your daemon? Is that why…”

 (Why Frumpkin can travel miles away from him and he doesn’t blink. Why Frumpkin can still shift forms, if he concentrates and holds it, why Frumpkin can pop in and out of the Feywild with a click of his fingers, why there’s a constant pain behind his sternum that never goes away, like Frumpkin is at the edge of their tether constantly, even though it doesn’t hurt more when Frumpkin goes farther, doesn’t hurt more when his daemon isn’t even on this plane -)

 “No. I - nein. Well.”

 Frumpkin pokes his head out from the crook of his knee and peers at Jester, ears twitching. “He’s responsible for that, yes, but it wasn’t - he tried to do something, and it failed.”

 He nodded, faintly. “He wanted us to be - to be strong. So, he tried -”

 He stops again, because this is something that he didn’t tell Nott or Beauregard. Because, he said that - that Ikithon broke him, which was truth but not real truth.

 His voice fails him, but his daemon’s does not.

 “He tried to separate us. Not like how the Ashari do it, or some clerics - forcibly.”

 He can hear the sharp intakes of breath from Beauregard and Fjord, the small gasp from Jester, the silence from Nott as she just stares at him.

 Yasha’s hand comes slowly, as gentle as she can make it, on his shoulder, and he does not pull away.

 “And he - he almost succeeded, as you can. As you can see. So, I ran. But the others, they didn’t - they didn’t -”

 He swallows down bile at the back of his throat, and finishes, “He succeeded, with them. And they weren’t - it wasn’t like separation. Their daemons weren’t just - their range did not increase, that didn’t happen. They were - severed. Gone. Empty,” and he stops again, Mollymauk’s memory ringing in his ears.

 Yasha squeezes his shoulder again, and Vrokin leans carefully over and licks one of Frumpkin’s ears.

 “And I - I ran.”

 He shakes his head again, to clear it. “We can’t fight these people. They are the most powerful mages in the country, possibly in all of Exandria. It would be a fool’s errand to try and fight even one of them, at the point we are at now, let alone taking on the entire Assembly. We would be signing our own death certificates just thinking about it.”

 “Why would they have - why Yeza? Why my husband? Don’t they have alchemists, in the academy, in the assembly - why some halfling with a talent for chemicals in a literal farming village? He wasn’t magic. He was just a chemist.” Cobal’s wings flash, the faint light in the cart glinting across dark feathers.

 “I do not - I don’t know, Nott. It has to do with the thing.”

 Jester’s hands tighten around the straps of her haversack. “The beacon? The - the dodecahedron, right? That’s what the beacon is?”

 “Ja, I think so. The letter - it said that he was producing aether, correct? The vial of it that we have in our possession, now?” He takes it out of his inner coat pocket and holds it up in the dusty light of the cart, the liquid inside glimmering gold and vibrant, even while shadowed by the tarp and everything around it.

 “What’s aether, anyways - why would it matter that he could get it from the beacon, why does it - why is he important? I mean, he was important to me, but I don’t understand -” Nott’s voice grows more frantic as she spins off, and Cobals wings stir the bird’s nest of her hair.

 “Aether is - it’s how photograms can show dust, astrological particles. I don’t - it comes from the astral plane, the same place dust comes from, and by refining it on this plane and then applying it to silver nitrate treated sheets exposed to light it can show the patterns of consciousness and dust flow around a person, or daemon, or item -” He says, mind recalling the words and books that he had read on the subject so far ago in the past, stopping only when he sees the looks on his companions faces.

 “Sorry. It - it is used for photograms. I don’t know what else it can be used for, but it - the previous process would take weeks, and required planar travel and then a lengthy refining process. It was expensive. If it could be cheapened, in a way, made more accessible - I can see the assembly focusing on that. But I don’t know why they were using Yeza, or why - what an alethiometer has to do with this, or him, or you or me or any of us. It doesn’t -”

 He sighs. “It doesn’t make sense.”

 Beauregard takes in Nott’s almost frantic confusion and Jester, Fjord and Yasha’s similar states of uncertainty.

 “Do you all know what - no, you wouldn’t would you, this is nerd shit.”

 She clears her throat. Joeria sits up slightly, paws pressing into the floor of the cart.

 “An alethiometer - it’s old, way older than pretty much anything else. They were either invented pre-Age of Arcanum or during it, but either way - pre-Calamity, at the least, and probably a whole lot older. They… hm. They don’t tell the future, not really, but they’re rumored to be able to, if you can read it, tell you a truthful answer to anything you can ask. What happened in the past, what’s happening now, the most likely thing to happen next, the truth of anything, almost - they read dust, somehow. Nobody knows how.”

 She takes a long look at Jester’s haversack, and then cuts her eyes over to Caleb.

 “Caleb, do you think - if the beacon the assembly had one in it, would ours?”

 He wrinkles his nose.

 “I do not know, Beauregard. I doubt it.”

 Jester’s hands spring to life, and she rifles through the pockets of her haversack, pulling out the letter again. Her eyes scan the paper, and then she blinks, slowly and pleased.

 “It says that they cast remove curse on it. And I - I have that spell? Normally I don’t have it prepared but I do today because I thought we might have to fight goblins and I wanted to be prepared for like, goblin traps? But it’s a good thing I did, because I have it prepared!” She singsongs and sticks her hands back into the haversack - and then two hands, and then almost her entire face as she fumbles for something.

 Her face pops out again, and she grins at the group, one of the handles of the beacon sticking out of the top.

 “Jessie - wait -” Beauregard gets out, but Jester just grabs a hand around her holy symbol and starts muttering under her breath in Infernal.

 They all stare, transfixed, as a golden pulse emits from the beacon and then -

 Then -

 Jester drops the beacon back into the box in the bag.

 “Holy shit, you guys,” she says, and holds up a small circular device, golden and shining and intricately carved with hundreds of tiny sigils and circles on the lid.

 She holds it in her hands for a moment, and then flicks the lid open.

 When she shows it to the rest of the group, it’s almost exactly like the pictures he’s seen in books, in histories at the academy. The hands, tiny and thin as gold filigree in the center, four of them. The miniature pictures lining the edge, painted with a hair and so detailed he can’t even grasp everything they show, thirty-six of them in all. Three knobs on the side, to turn the needles to ask a question.

 He knows - he had read one of the books of meaning, for an alethiometer, when he was bored at the cottage one terrible warm summer day. He knows at least some of them.

 “Jester - may I?” Jester hands him the device, carefully, and he holds it in his palm.

 With fingers slightly trembling, he turns the hands to three pictures.

 The anchor - one of its meaning is hope, that he remembers. The globe, for politics, and distance, tied to each other. Alpha and omega for finality.

 The most important part, the book had said, was to hold the question in your mind as you asked it.

 With that in mind - he concentrates, blocking out Nott’s attempts at getting his attention, Jester’s excited chatter, Fjord’s quiet worry, Yasha’s anxiety, Beauregard’s watchful gaze, Caduceus’s distant humming as he drives the cart -

 Do I have a chance at saving my friends?

 He releases the dials, and for a long moment nothing happens.

 Then - as he watches, the fourth hand of the alethiometer twitches, and then starts dancing around the edges, ticking at symbols and then moving on before he has even had a chance to count how many ticks it had given, hitting three and then four and then five and then six symbols in a row.

 He blinks, disappointed even though he knew the chances - there have been cases, in history, of people being able to intuitively read the alethiometer, without relying on books of meanings and years of training and study.

 It is not a surprise that he is not one of them. But it is - disappointing, all the same.

 He passes the device to Beauregard, who explains how to try it to the rest of the group while he leans against the wall of the cart, Frumpkin kneading a paw into his leg.

 This whole situation - Nott’s husband, her death and resurrection, the ties that it seems to have to Ikithon, to the assembly - there’s something that he’s missing, that they are all missing, something tying this together into a knot that he cannot find the end of.

 One by one around him, his friends attempt to use the alethiometer, and one by one they pass it off to the next person. Nott just passes it when she gets it, simply handing it off to Yasha and continuing to mutter under her breath.

 After Beauregard passes it to Fjord, scowling at the golden dials, she lays a hand on Joeria’s back and glances back up at him

 “Caleb - well. Do you want me to call you Bren, or stick with Caleb?”

 He -

 He is not Bren now, and hasn’t been since Bren’s soul was torn from his body.

 “Just - Caleb,” he whispers, and Beauregard nods.

 “That goes for you too, Nott - or Veth?”

 His goblin - no.

 His friend shakes her head. “Just - I’m not. I’m not Veth, right now. Just - stick with Nott.”

 “Alright. And, Nott - what Luke said, about the lady with the pointy ears, and the swan. That’s - one of the elves we saw walking towards the house earlier, right? Caleb?”

 She swings her eyes over to him, and he nods again.

 “Yes, that is - she must have been the one assigned to watching over Yeza.”

 Cobal asks, voice almost a croak, “Is she a chemist, then, or -”

 “No, she was - the Archmage of Antiquities, a historian. Though - with the beacon, and especially the alethiometer, that makes sense. That is most definitely history.”

 He stops, considering. “And the other - that was Archmage De’leth. He’s in charge of domestic protection, the head of the military. He is probably here overseeing the Righteous Brand soldiers, and she was here trying to figure out that beacon.”

 Nott narrows her eyes. “So, did - the cricks, did they attack because they sensed that the beacon was here? It’s a piece of, of their astrology magic mumbo jumbo shit?”

 Jester taps the letter. “The wording in this, it implies that there are more than one. And the one that we have - ours is from the attack on the tower in Zadash, and the Krynn were trying to steal it then. So, I guess, the assembly had another one, and the Krynn attacked to try and get it back?”

 Sprinkle bobs up and down, and Jester strokes a finger down her daemon’s back.

 “So - if the Krynn attacked here, to try and get the beacon - does the assembly have your husband, Nott, or does the Krynn?”

 Neither option is good.

 Neither option is reassuring, neither option gives them any chance in hell at getting him back. But he is selfish, and he knows just how difficult trying to tear a pawn away from the chess game that the assembly orchestrates would be.

 For all of their sakes, he hopes that the Krynn have Yeza.

 Taking on an invasion force, involving themselves in this war - all that would be easier than trying to face the entire might of the Cerberus Assembly.

[wrathbites]

Rescue & reunion

Characters: Ignis Scientia/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Prompto Argentum/Gladiolus Amicitia Rating: Teen audiences and up Warnings/notes: N/A

Prompto gets a certain look about him when they find the egg.  Wistful, almost, and Ignis knows it’ll cause them no end of trouble if it isn’t nipped in the bud immediately.  Even if he, too, wishes to take the egg in both arms and run for the hills with it, or carefully nestle it into one of their packs and strap it to his back and keep it safe from harm.

But Prompto surprises him, doesn’t shake off the arm he settles around his waist nor turn his cheek from the kiss Ignis leaves there, doesn’t protest when he suggests they take the egg back to Wiz for proper care and nurturing.  Neither does Noctis, which only sets his suspicions on high alert, narrowed eyes darting between the pair of them as they all trudge back to the Regalia with hunched shoulders and scattered hopes and, in Gladio’s case, precious cargo held secure in his arms.

They’ll have a chance to raise chocobos one day when they return to Insomnia and rebuild it brick by shattered brick.  He’ll make sure of it.  Gardens set aside for vegetables and herbs and the Sylleblossoms rumoured to have healing properties, greens for chocobos, too.  All that space in the courtyards dominated by fountains and empty benches torn aside and reworked into something of a stabled area, a sheltered area, opening into a field or four.  Maybe forsaking a physical wall in favour of nature at its best, spanning the perimeter of the city and connecting stable to orchard to farmland, the perfect stretch of land for racing and grazing and adventure as the birds please.  Or maybe they’ll simply leave the city as is (as it was) and take to visiting the outpost every month or so to see how their rescue is doing, spend some time with the bird and spoil it absolutely rotten before they take their leave.  A sedate trek back to Insomnia with four of Wiz’s friendliest charges.

“It would be best,” he says, upon spying Gladio’s large hands locked together to keep the egg tucked close and sheltered from the bumps in the road, “to not grow attached.”  A warning too late, if the soft smile is anything to go by, usually reserved for whichever one of them stumbles out of the tent first in the mornings.

It’s a warning that comes back to bite him in the ass weeks later when the baby black chocobo very nearly unmans him with the careless tread of tiny talons, fluffs out every feather until it looks little more than a black puffball, and proceeds to conk out right in the space between his folded legs.  Without a care in the world, no thought to a please or thank you.  Don’t grow attached, and here he sits with a melting heart and the overwhelming desire to pet.  And so he does, cautious strokes with a single fingertip over the little one’s head, the breadth of his palm shielding it from a camera flash as he spies Noctis circling ‘round with his phone at the ready for the best angle.

“What do you want to call her?” Wiz asks.

“Hope,” Noctis decides.  They don’t ask why.

Gladio’s a listing weight at his back, laboured breathing fracturing into cut-off noises of pain with every running leap Hope takes to outrun the daemons snapping at their heels.

“You know,” he yells over the thundering pursuit of giants hoping to squash them underfoot and chop them up for a midnight meal, whenever midnight is these days, “when Noctis whispered for her to grow big and strong, I never would have guessed he blessed her with this in mind!”

Gladio doesn’t pick up his pisspoor attempt at conversation, doesn’t even grunt in acknowledgement where his head knocks against Ignis’s shoulder, and the horrific pace of an overworked heart kicks up a notch as he grabs at a hand and squeezes tight.  Frantic, panic, hold on just a little longer, Gladio.

Prompto, at least, is still with him, placing trust in the feathered friend who has carried him through many a battle before now as he twists in his saddle to fire at any daemon closing in on the chocobos they’re relocating to safety.  Prompto, at least, has enough wits about him to holler back, so blatantly unimpressed with his comment that it’d make Ignis laugh in any other circumstances, on any other day.

“Pretty sure if he knew this was coming up he’d have whipped both your asses for being fucking morons!”

There is no whipping to be had, though he’s certain Noctis never removed that particular item from the Armiger in the first place, but there’s no complaints from any of them.  Not when there is a bed to rest weary bones, blankets pulled from the ether to ward against the breeze’s chill, and four hearts beating strong and sure despite all the odds stacked against them.  He plays his fingers over the fresh scars making a wreckage of Noct’s chest, just to feel the rhythm of the missing link finally reunited with them.  Snickers when Noctis squawks in outrage and twists from the waist down to throw his legs over Gladio’s bulk just to keep his feet away from the teasing pass of Prompto’s hand.  Drops his head back and removes his glasses and laughs so hard he could cry when their precarious arrangement of sprawled limbs is thrown to chaos as Noctis pops upright, offended and concerned in equal measure as he frowns down at them all and points an accusatory finger at Gladio’s stomach, the reminder there of their frantic flight from the chocobo outpost.

“Does someone mind telling me why the fuck there’s a smile on his navel?”  A serious question for certain, one that draws on memories and scars so dark they threaten to suffocate him, the phantom slick of blood on his hands sudden and warm and awful -

“Hope,” Gladio says, easy as breathing, and past gives way to present again as Noct’s eyes light up with his grin.

“She’s alive?”

“Oh yeah.  Alive and kicking,” Prompto replies, and plants his foot squarely on Noct’s chest to shove him back down, following him just to instigate a cuddle pile Ignis all too gladly tucks himself into.

“Just as we are,” he says and finally, finally, he can breathe a sigh of relief.  They’re all here, they’re all alive.  They made it.

[glaivenoct]

Heroes Never Die Ch. 3

Chapter 3/3: The Safest Place

Words: 5184

(ao3)

its about damn time. sorry, friends

“Hey Noct, wanna go for a round of King’s Knight when you get your phone charged back up?”

Noctis yawns as he enters the Leville with Prompto. “Could use a nap first.”

“Dude, you were out for half the ride back from the tomb!”

“It wasn’t even a long drive. You think it’s enough for me to sleep off a whole day in that place?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Prompto grimaces. “So many flans… Ooh, I hope Gladio hasn’t beat me to the shower yet!”

Noctis chuckles, bumping shoulders with him as they head up the stairs. “You shouldn’t have let him and Ignis go on without us then.”

But Prompto was so eager to stop by one of the food carts when they got back to Lestallum. Some were offering free samples as it was, and none of them had a proper meal the day before. Noctis was more than happy to grab a sample with Prompto. He just didn’t realize they were in line at the skewer guy’s cart until he got up close.

The sign on the cart advertised Galahdian style skewers, but Noctis knew before a single bite that it wasn’t authentic. The spices he smelled while waiting in line weren’t quite right. They smelled like cheap substitutes that were similar enough to fool anyone who didn’t know better. It wasn’t terrible, but the meat didn’t sit well in his stomach. The kick of heat in his mouth was weak. The sauce was a bit too sweet, not enough sour.

Worst of all, it brought a familiar ache back to his heart.

Noctis could easily imagine arms snaking around his waist from behind. He could imagine being pulled close and smiling while Nyx whispered, “I’ll show you the true Galahdian way,” in his ear. The phrase came up now and again when Noctis started becoming exposed to the culture. It was only fitting when he determined Nyx would never be impressed with these skewers.

Prompto, not realizing the sign until the last second, asked if he was okay when they were halfway to the hotel. He wasn’t, but Noctis liked to believe that he could fool anyone with a front of perpetual drowsiness. Whether Prompto bought into it or not didn’t concern him too much.

For a whole day he managed to ignore everything by cutting down daemons left and right. A whole day he convinced himself everything wasn’t a mess through team work and friendly banter. Now he’s back to square one doing everything in his power not to break under the pressure of his “calling” as Cor called it. He was trying to push past his grief. He was trying not to lose hope like Ignis advised.

So far Noctis is finding it more difficult than ever to heed those words.

“We should go back later to check out the other food carts.” Prompto says when they reach the top of the stairs. “We haven’t tried those ones in the center of town. Maybe they’ll inspire new recipes for Iggy!”

“The market’s close too if he gets excited about it enough.”

“Exactly! Oh hey, speaking of…”

Noctis follow his stare down the hall, slowing in stride. Ignis is emerging from their room at the very end of it. Gladio’s right behind, huddling close to him and crossing his arms. He speaks in a hushed tone and raises one brow in concern. Ignis strokes his chin, contemplating while he replies. Noctis shares a suspicious look with Prompto.

“Is it me or is something up?”

Whatever it is, Noctis is already dreading it. He scowls and proceeds forward. “Better be another Nif base I can blow up.”

“Guys?” Ignis and Gladio jolt at Prompto’s voice and straighten as they approach.

“Took you two long enough.” Gladio’s tone is as teasing as Noct would expect, but he can tell there’s something hiding behind it. Something important.

“Everything alright?” Noctis is sure to make his suspicion clear.

“Yeah, fine. Just…” Gladio looks at Ignis like he’s expecting him to finish the sentence. The advisor stiffens and gives him a subtle, irritated look.

“What’s up, Specs?”

Ignis gives him his full attention but the silence makes Noctis feel the need to brace himself for bad news. The only thing he can take solace in is that the worst has already happened. No matter what it is, it can’t be worse than Insomnia. Ignis relaxes his shoulders and takes a deep breath, keeping his expression as unreadable as possible.

“You have a visitor.”

“A… visitor?”

“Yes, journeyed all the way from the Crown City.”

“Whoa,” Prompto interrupts, eyes wide. “A survivor?”

Ignis nods at Prompto. Noctis means to ask who this survivor is, but he can’t quite spit out the word. There’s a name on his tongue, a name he could think of mere minutes ago, but it’s lost to him as his heart beats faster and faster.

“One hell of a survivor.” Gladio wears a blatant smirk and cocks his head to door. “Guy’s pretty eager to see you, Noct. He’s waiting inside. You should go say hi.”

The thoughts are rushing into Noct’s brain faster than he can process. He blinks and looks to Ignis for reassurance. Ignis would never let him get his hopes up for nothing, right? He gets nothing but another nod. Face still unreadable. Lips pulled together tight in secrecy. It’s an answer in itself… but Noctis isn’t ready to give into his hopes just yet.

He nearly stumbles when he slips past his friends. The door is already cracked open when he reaches it, so he enters inside without a sound. He can’t shake the sudden nausea building in his gut.

The visitor waits ahead, oblivious to his presence and leaning over the balcony to stare out at the plaza. Noctis freezes at the sight of him, nausea turning into something akin to butterflies.

The uniform—it’s not the coat with the distinct fur and purple ribbons, but it’s the uniform. His uniform. His hair. Him. It must be. Noct’s breath catches in his throat, voice failing him. All he can think about is the nightmares that have plagued him recently. He can’t give in to another illusion. He can’t melt into the safety of those arms just to get ripped away from them in another second. He needs this to be real.

Noctis shuts the door behind him and the click of it makes the man whirl around. His heart stops.

The scars on Nyx’s face stagger him before he concludes that his mind isn’t playing tricks on him. They’re eerily reminiscent of one of the nightmares and, for a second, he expects fire to engulf everything around him. Nyx cracks a smile and huffs in relief instead, reviving Noctis’ heart so it can dance in his chest.

“Hey,” he says. His eyes look tired, but his smile stretches enough to reach them. “Kept you waiting there, didn’t I?”

Noctis takes a cautious step forward, lips parting.

“So… should I run to you or do you want the honors? You can warp if you want. I’ll catch you.”

But Noctis’ legs move before he thinks to pull a weapon from his arsenal. He’s almost running the short distance between them and Nyx meets him halfway with open arms. In one swift move, Nyx is stumbling as he lifts him off the floor. Noctis steadies them by wrapping his legs around his waist.

Nyx presses his face into Noct’s neck, laughing and embracing hard enough to bruise. It’s never felt more right. Nothing’s felt this right or real in days and it makes Noctis coil himself around the glaive even more. He locks his arms around the back of his neck, fingers tangling into hair to find familiar braids.

Tears prickle at his eyes and blur his vision as Nyx sways in place, slow and from side to side. Noctis is shaking, but Nyx is the right amount of warm to thaw the tension out of him. If he could hold onto him like this forever, he would. He’d never let go and he’d never feel so hopeless and afraid again.

When he’s eased down to his feet, he cups Nyx’s face to trace over the white scars with his thumbs.

“I thought…” The tears start to fall and the only thing that can stop them is Nyx’s fingers wiping them away. “I thought –”

“I know. I thought I was too for a moment back there.”

“Cor said a lot of glaives were dead… and that Drautos was unaccounted for. I called... When you didn’t answer I thought something might’ve happened to your phone. I didn’t want to think you were- that you…” he shakes his head. “I hated it. I hated not knowing and –”

And Noctis is losing control of his own breath the more he rambles. Nyx leans towards him with a sad smile, resting their foreheads together.

“Hey. It’s okay. I’m here, little prince. I’m right here.”

There was love behind each precious affirmation as they left his mouth. Noctis could feel it as much as he could hear it. He exhales, bowing his head while his teeth clench behind quivering lips. Then Nyx is propping a finger under his chin, tilting his attention back up. He’s smirking this time.

“How ‘bout a kiss to make it all better?”

“Please.”

One tug of a shirt and they’re lost in each other in no time. Noctis presses his lips more insistently with each kiss, urging Nyx not to hold back. He’s longed so much for this for the past week and he has no intentions of being subtle about it. Once Nyx catches on, he’s picking up the pace and Noctis is accepting his fervent kisses with frantic need.

He doesn’t realize he’s backing Nyx towards the bed. Not until the back of his legs hit the edge of it. They’re topple into the mattress, Nyx breaking Noct’s fall for him with a simultaneous yelp.

“Shit,” he laughs. “Missed me that much, huh?”

Noctis eyes fall closed, a single tear trickling down. He trembles with silent laughter as he lays his forehead on Nyx’s shoulder. “I thought you were dead, idiot. Dead. What the hell do you think?”

“I think I missed you too… a lot. And that I need another kiss. Quick, my life depends on it.

“Is that so?”

“Sometimes heroes need saving too, y’know.”

“Well when you put it like that…” Noctis dips down to grant his hero one deep, languid kiss.

“Gods, I missed that. I missed you.”

“Missed you too, hero. More than you know...” When Noctis notices Nyx’s scars again, the questions begin surfacing past the happy fog of their respite. “Nyx… what happened? I know the gist of everything but… what happened to you?”

Nyx remains grimly quiet, avoiding his worried stare. Noctis can see the exhaustion coming back into his eyes, can feel him tensing. He should’ve let the relief last longer because there’s no doubt Nyx went through hell. To survive that and to journey all the way here on his own… He should’ve given it more time. The second Noct’s ready to change the subject, Nyx is propping himself on his shoulders and pushing to sit up with a pained grunt.

“Are you hurt?” Noct asks, rising with him in his lap.

“Nothing I can’t sleep off. As for the city…” he takes Noct’s hand into his. “Almost feels like it happened to someone else.”

“You don’t have to talk about it. I shouldn’t have asked so soon. I –”

“No, no. It’s okay. I want to tell you what happened. I just…”

There’s a haunted look lingering in Nyx’s eyes, something he doesn’t seem ready to say aloud yet. Noctis squeezes his hand for encouragement and tilts his head at him. He’s given a weak smile before those arms wrap around him again. He understands it as soon as he’s brought close and feels fingers digging into his shoulders.

They just need this moment a little longer. After almost losing it, they need to soak in each other’s presence. Ignore everything else outside of them like before. Cherish the opportunity to touch, kiss and hold.

Noctis rests his head on Nyx’s shoulder, closes his eyes and hangs onto him for dear life.

-

Nyx dreamt of a moment like this back Hammerhead, but nothing compares to the real thing. They lie snuggled under the covers, Noctis’ head on his bare chest, ear pressed over his heart to listen to it beat. Here in the quiet of the cozy night, things feel a little more normal.

It was after his shower and during a meal that he was reacquainted with Ignis and Gladio. He was introduced to Prompto, too, and everything was much less awkward than Nyx anticipated. They welcomed him with kindness, hospitality, and some occasional stammering from Prompto. Nyx figured that last part wasn’t out of the ordinary given the stories he’s heard from Noct.

He was mostly relieved he wasn’t the one that had to explain a year of secrecy to the three. Not that it needed much explaining, but Nyx noticed them watching him closely as he spoke about his journey to Hammerhead. It never seemed hostile. Rather, curious, and he was quick to decide that it was fair. He could tell they were sitting on a thousand questions.

There was plenty of time for them to be answered and for them to get to know him better. There were more pressing things on his mind at the time, though. Like telling Noctis about the city.

He waited until they retired to a separate room for the night. Even then it was hard to get past the initial giddiness of crawling under the covers together. They could hardly manage to keep their hands and lips to themselves for five minutes.

When they settled down, Nyx told him everything short of putting the ring on. Even hearing it recounted from his own mouth, some things still made little sense to him. It made talking about the friends he lost hurt more. It made him angrier about the betrayal when he mentioned the reasons Luche and Drautos gave him for it. The only thing that kept him from losing it altogether was how tight Noctis held his hand through it all.

“I’m sorry,” he’d whisper against Nyx’s knuckles. “I’m so sorry…”

Their roles gradually switched when Noctis asked about his father. Once Nyx heard that first shaky exhale, he secured his arms around Noct completely and let him cry. Between snivels and hiccups, it was Nyx’s turn to whisper sympathies to him. With each one, Noctis would only bury himself farther from the world and further into him. All he could do was make sure he felt safe in his mourning.

“It’ll be okay, Noct,” Nyx said when once the sobbing subsided, “but when it’s not, I’ll be right here. I promise.”

They’ve been in a comfortable silence since then. With the hardest parts being over for now, Noctis’ breathing is normal, he isn’t trembling, and there’s no more tears wetting Nyx’s skin.

“So how long before your friends give me The Talk?”

“The what?”

“The Talk. The one where they pull me aside and politely tell me they’ll bury me where no one will find me if I ever do anything to hurt you.”

Noctis chuckles sleepily. “Dunno. I just hope they don’t intimidate you the way my dad did.”

“No one will ever intimidate me like your dad did. In fact, I’m having intense flashbacks as we speak so we should drop this subject immediately.”

Noct’s laughter vibrates against Nyx’s skin and it’s the sweetest sound to his ears. It’s the gracious remedy to his tired soul, keeping him sane and distracting him from the ache of his muscles.

Noctis lifts his head and props his chin on Nyx’s chest, curling closer to him. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy from crying earlier, but they’re searching Nyx’s aimlessly. Tentative fingers reach for the marred skin on his face, touching light as a feather.

“Do these scars make me look hideous or what?”

“No. I think you look like a hero. A rugged, handsome hero.”

“So I don’t need to wear a bag over my head whenever I go out in public with you?” He laughs when Noctis smacks his shoulder. “Ow! Babe, I’m still sore.”

“Shit, sorry! I’m so sorry.”

Nyx chuckles, tugging him closer till their faces are inches apart. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s nothing a little kiss couldn’t fix.”

“How long are you going to milk that line?”

“As long as I can. I did almost die, after all.”

Noctis sighs, laying soft kisses to Nyx’s shoulder, neck and cheek. “Don’t remind me. Do remind me to call Cindy tomorrow and thank her for helping you out.”

“Mm, remind me to call Libertus.”

“You think he’s still with Luna?”

“I don’t know. If he’s not, we know where she’ll be waiting.” He frowns. “Ooh… how disrespectful is it to bring your secret boyfriend to your wedding?”

It’s meant to be a joke, but the way those brows crease in deep thought make him regret bringing it up. The word seems to startle Noct, as if he’s forgotten that the wedding’s been the reason for this trip all along.

“This wedding was a political branch for peace, but that treaty never got signed.” His brow remains creased, but a newfound resolve fills those pretty blues. “Nifilheim destroyed my home. They sent their spy to kill my father and they stole the crystal. As far as I’m concerned, that means the wedding’s off.”

There’s no sorrow left in Noctis’ voice. No tears left to build in the corners of his eyes. He was so apologetic that first night they talked about the wedding… so unnerved and torn in his emotions. A significant change to the bitterness in him now.

“Wow… you sound serious.”

“I am serious. They took everything from me, Nyx. Luna too. She and I deserve to choose love on our own… and I choose you.”

“Noct…” Nyx blinks, but Noctis grabs his face before he can say anything else, claiming his lips.

“I love you,” Noct runs his thumbs over the scars again. “I love you and I don’t care what anyone says or expects from me. I love you.”

It’s the first time either of them uttered the phrase today, but the sentiment’s been an unspoken presence since the second Noctis jumped into his arms. Even so, there’s a flutter in Nyx’s chest like it’s the first time he’s heard it all over again.

“Love you too,” he smiles and claims his lips right back. “Love you too…” and again. “Love you too.” And again.

-

For the first time in days, Noctis goes to sleep feeling safe. It’s the sound of Nyx’s steady breathing that helps lull him there. It’s the strong beat of a heart that drives away the irrational doubts. His dreams don’t taunt him with illusions morphing into nightmares. It’s the best rest he’s gotten in a while.

Yet, a couple hours later, he rouses with the distant feeling that something’s wrong. His eyelids flutter, but he can’t even open them halfway. When he’s conscious enough to register the ragged breathing next to him, they open fully. The breathing stops, and Noctis ponders for a moment if he imagined it.

But then it starts again. It’s louder than before and Noct realizes it’s a bit too hot underneath the covers. The memory of fire floods his mind along with the agonizing scream of “Please! Noctis please!”

Noctis is wide awake, sitting up and turning the other way. Nyx is on his back, a sheen of sweat over his neck and forehead as he whimpers between his breaths.

“Nyx?” He grips his shoulder to try and shake him awake. “Nyx, hey! Wake up, hero! Wake up.” The only reactions he gets are groans and the pained twisting of features amid restless writhing. “Nyx –”

“No!” Nyx sits up so fast it’s startling. His chest heaves erratically, eyes expanded in fear, tears streaming down his cheeks. “No… no…”

“Nyx?” He says it softly, but it still makes him flinch. He scoots forward and reaches for his hand. “Hey, breathe. Breathe. It was just a dream, okay? You’re here with me in Lestallum. You travelled a long way to get here, remember? Whatever you saw doesn’t matter because you’re safe. We both are.”

Nyx’s breaths slow with every word. His teary eyes are fixed on Noct like he’s waiting for something to go wrong, but when it doesn’t, he exhales. The distraught look on his face eases away little by little, and soon he’s lowering his head, squeezing Noct’s hand so hard it almost hurts.

Nightmares were a common enemy between them, but it’s been a long time since Noctis has seen Nyx suffer from one this intense. He’s seen it twice, at least, but he doesn’t think he’s ever seen him so terrified before.

Nyx sniffles and covers his face with a hand to rub at his temples. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Hey, we have a rule. No apologizing for nightmares.” He moves until he’s flush against Nyx’s side, nudging him with his shoulder. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Just go back to sleep, Noct.”

“I can’t until I hear the word no.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“That’s not a no.”

Nyx’s sighs, revealing red rimmed eyes when he lowers his hand. Noctis gives him all the time he needs to consider the offer. Despite nightmares being a common enemy, they didn’t always talk about them. Sometimes they put on cheesy movies instead or talked about the simplest things until neither of them could keep their eyes open. Sometimes they didn’t talk at all. One time they even slow danced in Nyx’s apartment to the chirp of crickets.

Other times they talked about their fears and daemons until the sun rose. They did it the first time Nyx experienced a nightmare like this, and Noct’s prepared to do it all over again if he must.

“I died.” The raspy confession makes his heart sink.

“What?”

Nyx looks away, down to their locked hands and shakes his head. “I was back in the city. Everything was going to hell all over again and I was helpless. I couldn’t save anyone. Not even Libertus or Lunafreya…” he gives Noct’s hand another squeeze. “And then I heard you. You were calling out to me for help, so I ran all the way to Citadel.”

Noctis can see it in his face when their eyes meet again. The worst part’s coming. Nyx takes a deep breath.

“You were at the top of the steps and you looked hurt. I ran as fast as I could, but you kept getting further away…” his voice grows tight. “And then this voice boomed around me. It said that I needed to pay the price. That I needed to burn…” he almost chokes on the word, “and I did. I was on fire and you were screaming… it was the last thing I heard before I woke up.”

“Nyx…”

“I died.”

“No, you didn’t. That wasn’t real.”

“I could feel it! I could… feel myself dying!”

Meanwhile Noctis is certain he can feel his heart breaking. He moves so he sits directly in front of Nyx, taking both hands into his own, looking deep into those pale blues.

Nyx grits his teeth and lowers his head, huffing through his tears. “I didn’t want to leave you behind…”

Noctis leans forward to press a kiss against his sweaty forehead. “Look at me, babe. You didn’t leave me. You went through hell, but you came back to me.” He cradles Nyx’s cheek with his palm. “Feel this? This is real. You’re here. You’re alive and with me. I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it.”

This time Noctis is the one wrapping his arms around Nyx, pulling him close and letting a weary head drop on his shoulder. In no time, Nyx is unraveling in his arms, muffling broken noises into his shirt. Noctis guides him to lie back down and cards fingers through mussed strands of hair.

He loves and comforts him till there’s no tears left to shed. Nyx did the same when the subject of his father came up, and now it’s Noctis’ turn to do the same. By the time Nyx is calming down, he appears to be half asleep. His face isn’t hidden away. He’s not sniffling or hyperventilating. He looks peaceful curled up next to him.

Noctis notices a braid tucked behind his ear that should’ve been taken out before bed. He takes great care in undoing it, setting aside the cord entwined in it once he’s done. He then lies flat on his back and checks on Nyx one last time before he tries to sleep.

“Rest, hero. I’ll be right here.”

Nyx makes the softest noise but doesn’t stir.

-

The sun peeks through the balcony’s shutter doors, casting patches of light throughout the room. In the fragile grasp of consciousness, Nyx can hear birds cooing at each other outside and the faint patter of footsteps down the hall. He opens his eyes slowly, blinking through the glare of sunlight in his line of vision.

He takes a deep breath when he’s fully awake. If he wasn’t so lazy, he’d get up and open the balcony doors to see the sky. He’d soak in the beauty of it, clear, crisp and blue opposed to the dreary smog that surrounded him for days. He never did get the chance to appreciate it after he got after the city. He was too busy sweating, and aching, and coping with the aftermath of Insomnia. All that mattered then was getting back to Noct.

Noct.

He turns his head to the warm body next to him. Noctis is sound asleep, facing him with arms tucked under his head. His still features are highlighted under the light of morning, exposing him for all that he is: Captivating. The sweetest tranquility. The safest place no matter how many times that face threatened to make his heart erupt. Nyx smiles. He didn’t need to look at the sky just yet. He had all the beauty to appreciate right here.

He didn’t dream again after his nightmare last night. He doesn’t even remember when he fell back asleep. All he remembers is the tears and a comforting hand playing with his hair. Noctis gave him the exact sense of security Nyx always strived to give him. Gods, he didn’t realize how much he missed it.

Nyx brushes Noctis’ fringe aside for a moment, paying close attention as the shadows near his eyes and the bridge of his nose disappear. He’s picture perfect and Nyx is a little mad he doesn’t have his phone on him.

Right when he considers borrowing the phone on the nightstand, Nyx catches a flicker of those pretty blues. He draws his hands back, fighting a chuckle when Noctis flinches at his own hair tickling his skin. The prince groans his way into consciousness, glaring at Nyx between his rapid blinking. It’s incredibly adorable.

“Aw, you’re usually such a heavy sleeper. What the hell?”

Noctis squints at him. “Is there a reason you’re touching my face?”

“Does there need to be? It’s a nice face. Dare I say gorgeous. Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

“Shut up.” Noctis hides his face in his arms, concealing what Nyx is sure is a cherry blush and a bashful grin.

“Hey,” he whispers, invading his personal space to nip at his jaw and ear. He persists more when Noctis tries squirming away from him. “Hey, psst!”

“What?!” Noct reveals his face again.

“Morning.” Nyx turns his giggles into happy hums by cupping his face and showering him with sweet, short kisses.

“Morning.” Noctis gives him dreamy smile, eyes still fighting the fuzziness of sleep. “Missed waking up to that.”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about it on the way to Hammerhead. This is all I wanted to come back to.”

“I’m glad you did. Don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t…”

“Lucky for us…” Nyx tucks the hair framing his cheek behind his ear, “we don’t have to think about that. This is all that matters, right?”

Noctis is smiling again, grabbing his wrist before he pulls it away. He presses the back of the palm against his chest. “Yeah, it is. Feeling better today?”

“Much. Everything might still be a mess, but…” he nods. “I’ll be okay. Thanks, Noct.” The kiss to his fingers prompts Nyx to use his other arm to hug Noctis against his chest. “So, what are we doing today?”

“Gotta talk to the guys,” he says, tucking his head under Nyx’s chin. “What time is it? I’m used to ignoring Ignis’ alarm at an ungodly hour.”

Nyx reaches for Noctis’ phone on the nightstand. “It’s almost ten.”

“What?” Noctis lifts his head. “No texts or missed calls? No one knocked on the door?”

“Pretty sure I would’ve heard someone knock. Maybe your friends are being considerate in light of me, well, not being dead.”

“Huh… if that’s true, we might have another hour to kill before someone comes to check on us.”

“Oh really?” Nyx smirks playfully and rolls on top of him. “Do you have any idea how many times I could kiss you in an hour?”

Noctis’ eyes light up with glee and desire, stirring something in Nyx when he bites his lower lip. “Why don’t you show me, hero?”

And Nyx does with undying fervor, feeling more alive than ever in recent days. It’s never been clearer to him than in this moment—this is where he’s meant to be. Not buried under the rubble of Insomnia. Not disintegrating under the break of dawn. He’s only meant to be here, kissing Noctis breathless every morning before they faced the world together. He’d never lose sight of that again.

Every content noise out of Noctis’ mouth elates him, makes him feel lighter and lighter until part of him wonders if they’ve drifted off to another universe. He puts his love into each wandering kiss, muttering sweet nothings against Noctis’ skin to make him shiver. When Nyx finds his way back to his lips, he pauses.

“What?” Noctis asks, using the opportunity to catch his breath. His eyes are curious and beautiful.

Nyx takes hold of his wrist, laying it against the pillows, lacing their hands together. “Just thinking about how lucky I am… how much I love this this… how much I love you.”

“Getting sappy on me again, Ulric?”

“You love it.”

“I do…” Noctis smiles, “and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Me either, little prince.” Nyx nuzzles the scruff of his beard against Noctis’ neck – just the way he knows he likes it – before meeting his lips again with a tender kiss. “Me either.”

[argentcanus-blog]

Drabble meme: Hunt with me

Drabble list– You can send one anytime. || Accepting! @cookignis I recently read a fic about Prompto and Ignis in the 10 year gap and It really broke my heart and inspired me. I guess that’s kinda what prompted me to do that time period in the game for this prompt. I REALLY hope this is okay!!

Prompto feels his breath hitch and he knows Ignis hears it. He curses himself for having no filter when it comes to audible reactions. The question comes as a shock, though it shouldn’t. Prompto and Gladio have both noticed it, Ignis’ desire to join them when they go out to hunt daemons, struggling through the eternal night.“Hunt with me?”It’s subtle, but Prompto can hear the oh-so slight desperation in Ignis’ voice; the yearning to be useful, helpful, as he once so proudly was. Not that he isn’t now… Prompto clenches his fists by his side, and he wonders if Ignis can hear that. His gloves crackle and the fabric curls around his fingers, choking his skin. It’s such a quiet noise, but these days Ignis can hear everything.“You do not wish to.” Ignis says it as a statement, no room for interpretation.“No!” Prompto urges, waving his hand frantically. “It’s…” It’s not that. It’s never that. Of course Prompto wants to take Ignis with them. They’re already one man down, their prince still missing. Gladio is so damn angry all the time, and Prompto doesn’t handle it as well as Ignis does. It’s easier with Ignis there, and yet… it’s also…“It’s not that I don’t want you there…” he mutters, finally finishing his sentence. He swallows, shutting his eyes as he waits for Ignis’ response. Sometimes Prompto keeps his eyes shut for longer than normal, trying to imagine how Ignis feels, what Ignis sees (or doesn’t in this case). It’s darker than the eternal night they’re facing, and it scares Prompto so much he can’t begin to fathom how Ignis feels. “You do not believe I can handle it.” He says the words Prompto is unable to, and they hang in the air, circling around them. They’re suffocating, and Prompto’s breath hitches again. Dammit. He sees Ignis visibly lower his shoulders. “It’d be…hard not to worry,” Prompto whispers, his jaw clenching, his teeth grinding together.“Don’t,” Ignis scolds. And Prompto frowns. How could he not worry? He’s already lost one friend, and slowly, the other two are slipping away from him. If Noctis came back, would they still be this… broken? “Grinding your teeth is not only a horrible noise but it’s terrible for your teeth,” Ignis finishes, and Prompto suddenly feels silly for thinking such intense thoughts.“Ah! R-Right…” he chuckles awkwardly, rubbing at his wrist. The silence weighs heavier than words, Prompto knowing Ignis wishes to argue. Prompto isn’t the best at saying no, if Ignis pushes, he will most likely cave. If only Gladio hadn’t gone off on his own.“I’ve been practicing,” Ignis speaks again. “I have strategies.” “I know.” Prompto sucks a large breath of air in through his nose. “But Gladio said-”“I am not asking Gladio.” Ignis doesn’t change the direction of his non-existent gaze, but Prompto knows the blind man is well aware of the blond’s location in the room.“...Iggy.” Prompto manages to speak, but Ignis’ name is tight across his lips.“Prompto,” Ignis says. “I…” Prompto’s voice cracks. He’s always been absolutely terrible at hiding his emotions, especially from someone as intuitive as Ignis. Ignis leans forward, his hand resting on Prompto’s knee. His hand doesn’t stumble, he places it there without hesitation or searching. “You won’t,” he says softly, and Prompto wonders if Ignis can hear his thoughts now. Later, he would have to ask him.Prompto stares at Ignis, seeing the scarring which sits across his eye, jagged and sharp. He wants to brush his fingers across the torn skin, erase the pain it has caused his friend. “I can’t,” he says, his hands trembling. He moves to grab Ignis’ hand, squeezing his palm with all of his fingers. “I can’t lose another one of you.” “You haven’t lost anyone,” Ignis whispers, not missing a beat. “We know he’s coming back.” Biting his lip, Prompto nods his head slowly, but suddenly remembers Ignis can’t see the movement, though he knows his jacket and hair moved, so maybe he has a vague idea? Prompto doesn’t like to underestimate him. “I know.” With a heavy sigh, Prompto releases Ignis hand and stands up. He knows his friend is correct, in these dark times, worrying, panicking, wondering; none of those thoughts do them any good. The world is dark enough, and Noctis would expect him, expect all of them, to smile-to be the people’s light. “I have faith,” Prompto smiles, stretching up towards the ceiling. “In Noctis, but also in you.” “Do you now?” Ignis chuckles, following Prompto by standing up. The blond’s remarkable ability to shine through even the darkest of nights is incredible to Ignis. Prompto takes Ignis hand, squeezing it gently. “I trust you,” he begins. “If you say you’ve been practicing, I believe you.” It wasn’t just trust, Prompto could tell Ignis’ reaction times had improved, and he seemed far more aware of his surroundings than before. “Let’s go on that hunt. Together.” Ignis’ hand twitches in his, squeezing it back, and Prompto can feel the gratitude rushing into his body. If need be, he can always lead Ignis, but from the tight way his friend grips Prompto’s hand, the blond doesn’t think he’ll need to help at all.“Yes,” Ignis nods, his head bowing slightly. “Together.”

[sugagummi]

Mirrored Shred pt.6

AZRIEL X OC

A/N: OKay, bad news and sort of good news. Like--okay news, i guess.

So, I’ve decided to pause this Mirrored Shred and Val’s story. :(( BUTTT! She will be appearing in my other Azriel fanfiction, Elixir of Truth, and having the same backstory! So basically, I’m going to pause this, and continue onto Elixir of Truth, because I realized that I want to be a devil  and have a lot of angst between Azriel and Val’s relationship. 

So, yeah. I hope y’all like this chapter...I probaby have some typos...

ALSO IF YOU WANT SOME BADASS ILLYRIAN FANFIC I MADE THE FIRST CHAPTER HERE, YUP YUP YUP

MASTERLIST

extra part ↔  | ◄ previous part | 

“She was content with waiting. She had eternity to wait.”

“It looks lovely.”

Val only frowned at herself, looking at the skin that was bare and the fabric that did not cover her scars. It was a dust-rose dress, long sleeved with sheer mesh and encrusted with gems. Her wings made a striking contrast, it’s tawny and white colors a fitting match. The dress and her wings resembled her favorite color of the clouds--a representation of the Court she came from and yet, with the glittering gems, something of the Night Court as well.. It covered her collar bone enough to still see those scars--and fully exposed her neck.

Other than that, yes, it did look lovely. She felt lovely.

“I suppose it is...” Val still did not know if this was too much--of her scars. Did she want to show these? Could she allow herself?

From the long mirror in front of her, Thesan stood up and walked up beside his daughter.

Since the Night Court revealed its hidden city, Velaris, the High Lady and Lord sent out invitations to the High Lords of Prythian. No doubt a show of good faith from hiding the city. Although Val was personally invited by Azriel--something she thought was a dream, but ended up being a power that...that she would have to talk about with her father about.

Thesan currently wore a tunic of light pastels and gold embroidery--something that fit him nicely and made Val envy her father for being so perfect. 

Undoubtedly, she did look like her father; their skin was the same dark honey and their eyes the same uplifting shape. Daemon had been the copy of their father, because when it came down to charisma and hair. Unlike her father and brothers straight, brown hair and calm demeanor, Val was the opposite. She had the hair as thick as clouds and darker than , and the patience of a thunder. 

“Will that be the dress, Val?” Thesan said, his hands tentatively placed on her shoulder. 

“Yes, it is,” she finally said and turned her body around to face her father. “When do you think it’s best to leave?”

There was also the fact that Starfall was that night--and Val had tried on several dresses on for the entire day. They were in no rush though. Augustus was probably already ready, and waiting for them two. Perhaps to hash out the rules of the Night Court.

But... Val had to grab this moment that she had with her father. She could probably never have another time like this.

“Oh, we’ve got time, don’t fret,” Thesan said and smiled broadly at her, thought--like always--there was sadness.

Val nodded, her hands clutched toghether in front of her and her wings held uptight. “Father... Do you remember my mother? Who she was...”

Taken aback for only a short moment, Thesan composed himself and cleared his throat. “Your mother?” he said, and there was a deep emotion set in his eyes--not for the topic, but for Val. “She was half Seraphim, like I told you...”

“There’s that--what she is,” Val said, her voice so low and timid. “But there is who she was. I know my biology enough to know that I got my ears from you.”

A nervous laugh escaped her fathers mouth. He settled his arms behind his back. “When I say this, Val, it doesn’t make my love for or your brother you any less...”

Oh. Val turned her body to face him seating on the lounge of the dress room. 

“It’s been so long since I ever thought of your mother.” Thesan’s mouth puckered down. “I was perhaps in my twenties after the war--and not yet High Lord. So, in my youth, I did dabble around--oh, Val, don’t look at me like that. How do you think I feel when you and Helion talk like that? Well, your mother, Lilith, took pride in her wings--and I absolutely adored them too. That’s what attracted me. But, when Drakon and Miryam fled, she did as well.

“I lived on my life for a few months--until someone comes to my door, bearing a gift.”

“Augustus,” Val breathed. She’d known her fathers partner since she could fly. He was in one of her earliest memories--and she knew that Daemon would think the same.

“Yes, that was the first time I met Augustus. He’d been a guard already, and he said he came by two infants in a basket at the outer edge of the palace--where the cedar trees reside. And then, I smelt you and Daemon--I knew you were my children.”

“Daemon and I came in a basket?” Val said, though she found it hilarious. “Some mother we had.”

Thesan shrugged with a smile. “I wouldn’t know. It seemed that Lilith didn’t spend much time with you.”

“It was just a fling, then?” 

“Yes, it was.” Her father frowned, then, he stood up. “I was blessed to have you and Daemon--and... you know the rest.”

“And my powers?” Val said. “It’s been nearly three centuries, and yet I can’t crack down what I can do.”

Thesan looks thoughtfully at her, and then two glasses of wine appear in his hand. He gives one to Val, who takes it with unease, and they drink.

“Val,” her father said, and he reached over to hold her free hand and squeeze it, “so much has happened since Under the Mountain--so much that I can feel you don’t want to talk about, with me, at least.” There it was again--sadness flickered in his eyes as he stared at her.

“It’s too much, in such little time,” Val said, her voice wavering. “I’ve gotten comfortable enough to show what she did...” the scars. “To show that I am a survivor, and that I did not die to my own hands...”

And it was just a whirlwind of everything that she saw there, beneath the court of Amarantha. Thesan listened, and he held his daughter, and shed tears with Val from their loss--their precious Daemon. 

Thesan was grateful for this, for his daughter to finally tell him, so that he could finally feel like he wasn’t watching Val give way to the winds. He loved her--he never wanted her to doubt that. Everything he saw in the court that he thought was the worst--was only the surface.

Until the sunset, Thesan and Val spent their time together--finally, as father and daughter. Dawn Court seemed brighter with them like this. 

The House of Wind, a palace that was remarkably so unlike the luxuries Dawn Court had.

It took Val’s breath away, to see such a beautiful palace with so many balconies and so many people--all waiting and glancing frantically up at the sky. The sun was only setting, and yet they still wait for it. There was a low hum of music that thrummed from inside the House.

From behind the three, Nuan and a few other prized fae of the Dawn Court had winnowed. She was a great friend of Val for a long time, one that Val had to rekindle after getting her new arm. They’d been distant since the war was over.

Taking leave from her fathers side, Val makes her way to Nuan, and smiled. 

“You look ravishing,” Val said with a hint of playfulness. 

Nuan smiled widely. She wore a long dress of silver and pale oranges that slipped right off her shoulders.

“I won’t fall for your flirting,” Nuan said, though a blush spread against her olive skin.

Val walked beside her. “It’s only fact,” she said. “Though, I wouldn’t mind to get a good look at all the Night Court citizens tonight.”

Nuan’s eyes tingled--as though she thought the same, but something was held back. Val felt her energy glow.

They walked through the House of Night, eyes from all the citizens following the Dawn Court like they were a wary. Val didn’t blame them. This was a sacred city--and no intruders had ever come to see Starfall here. There were whispers about the Peregryms and even more about Val’s Seraphim wings--how rare it was. 

A few Illyrians were spotted and it made Val’s heart ache to see Azriel.

Then, Nuan’s gaze fluttered. The energy around her nearly hazardously vibrant. 

“Are you okay?” Val placed a hand on her back, looking around the balconies of the House of Wind. 

But she saw him! --and the Inner Circle--all waiting, all with calm smiles.

Azriel spotted her, a small, secret smile evident on his face. He seemed to gaze longer at her, probably the amount of skin she was showing and the scars that were white and pink. Something like pride shown on his face.

Val’s wings fluttered--her heart fluttered. She cursed herself for that.

“More like are you okay?” Nuan teased and Val poked her side, earning a squeal of laughter. 

“I am okay,” Val replied with mock pride. She huffed her chest out and grinned. “It’s not like I was avoiding a certain blonde-haired--”

Nuan’s eyes widened, she glanced to where the Inner Circle was--and then slapped Val’s mouth shut.

Val was surprised, she stared at her friend’s metal hand, and then wickedly smiled.

Yelling back in surprise, Nuan whispered-screeched, “You licked my hand?”

Val cackled, her head thrown back with the delight of grossing her out. “Thank the Cauldron you didn’t use your metal hand. I probably would’ve spat in it.”

Nuan raised her eyebrows, but she grinned along. “You and Helion--I swear you are one person with your odd and sexual words.”

“Ah, my father said that too.” Val and Nuan’s words died down as they saw their High Lord greet Feyre and Rhysand.

“Perhaps I should go with him,” sighed Val. “Duty and all.”

“Oh, the duties,” Nuan sighed as well with a smile. “Have a great night, Val.”

Val smiled, her hand dropped from her friend’s back, and she walked towards her father. She made sure her wings were tucked in tight and her posture was straight. When she made it beside her father, she bowed.

“Feyre--Rhysand,” Val greeted first. “I supposed my father’s already thanked you for the invite.”

Feyre--adorned in a dress of white and black and all things night--bowed along with Rhysand--as usual, he wore a dark tunic, with the flare of a midnight blue. The two looked magnificent as ever.

“I just hope you didn’t invite Beron or Tamlin,” a douche-bag’s voice drawled. “That’s when 

From behind Val, she felt Helion’s hands clasp on them. She could feel the smug grin he gave the High Lady and Lord.

Rhysand’s lips quirked. “Well, we did--as a sign of good faith, but thankfully they declined.”

Val--to her surprised--released a sigh. She was glad to know that Beron, Eris and Tamlin would not be attending. She found them quite annoying.

“No one would want them to piss on this parade,” Helion muttered. “Oh, excuse me, High Lady and Lord--thank you for the invitation to this glorious night.”

Only Helion could try pull of this douchebag act. With that tunic-robe of his.

“And my,” Helion added, “Val--I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress. You look like the clouds.”

Val raised her eyebrows at him. “Aren’t you just filled with compliments,” she said. “I’m surprised you didn’t give Feyre one first.”

Feyre laughed, a sort of light one. “Oh, I could do without Helion’s compliments.”

“I’m offended he didn’t compliment me,” Rhysand said.

Val and Feyre--to her shock--scoffed at him.

Rhysand grinned at his High Lady. “What? A compliment from Helion that doesn’t involve a bed is something I’m envious of.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “You’re just asking for attention.” Her mouth twitched with a smile, and a look of somewhat adoration and daunt crossed her face. 

“They’re doing the mind-thing again,” Helion muttered. “Well--I’ll see you lovers later this evening for the big show.” His arm left Val’s shoulders, and he began to trek his way down from the balcony they were on. 

On his way, she could see Thesan and August at the edge, their smiles small and private. Her feet took her to the edge facing the inside of the House, of the wide floor beneath them. 

There was a lot more people than Val had anticipated. They were all chattering among themselves, calm and light. Everything about these people spoke volumes of Rhysand as a being--someone who cared so much for these people to not be found out by Amarantha. Someone who sacrificed himself.

Val felt her heart squeeze. She could think of so many people that died who were close to her. They wouldn’t be able to see this side of the Night Court. Or perhaps they already know, in the special place wherever they go.

Her eyes lilted to the people playing the instruments. Soft music spewed from their delicate finger movements, and their bodies swayed to it. A beautiful art that Velaris excelled at. Val leaned herself away from the ledge, and cracked her neck. She’d stayed too long in the hunched position from watching the people below the balcony dance. 

Soon after, her skin prickled. The presence of shadows was close. Val turned her body around only to be right.

Azriel had left after Thesan made his greetings to Feyre and Rhysand. Val didn’t knew where he went, but here he was--suited with a light weight dark armor, fitting his body and possibly accustomed  to look more like a tunic. He walked gracefully towards her, and it seemed like her heart was raging far more than it had in the past.

“Hello, Val,” he said--and it seemed so much different than any other greeting. Val felt the vibrations of his voice--rattling her chest. Azriel then dipped down to a bow, and smiled at her--Val’s breath did an intake when his hand reached over to hers, and they clasped together.

It sent a chill down her body. It echoed something so ancient and so melodic when they touched their hands.

For a moment, she thought Azriel felt it too because his hand slightly pulled back from the shock of it all. She thought he was going to say it, to truly solidify what this meant.

But that did not happen.

Time began to move faster. Azriel began speaking to her, about the spirits that migrate and the one true place to see them. He took there, outside with all the other people. She saw her father, Nuan, August, Hellion, the Inner Circle, Elaine and Nesta, Kallias and Vivianne, Tarquin and his people, and even a few other people. They all looked up.

When the spirits in the sky did appear--the blue and the green and the whites covering the world above with their beauty, it was Val who could see them in a seemingly slower pace. Beside the sluggish feeling of it all--of what she thought was happening, she pushed it aside. She wouldn’t think of it. Not when Azriel was going through his own trough unrequited love. He had Morrigan to think of, to figure out where they stood. Val couldn’t complicate things.

She reached above, her hand touching a fallen spirit, and it’s dust covering her face and wings with its warm glow. Alarm flashed through her face, and she looked at Azriel.

“Have I just--?” she spluttered and attempted to wipe off the remnants of the spirit only to smear it all across her face.

Azriel laughed--a deep and rumble that silenced Val at its beauty.“It’s only Stardust,” he said and his eyes danced with humor. “You’ve done no harm to the spirits.”

Val couldn’t form the words to say anything, apart from replaying that laugh. Suddenly, she was curious to see what the stardust would look like on him and his wings. She did so by flicking her hands towards him. 

The dust settled onto his dark hair, a little speck on his nose and chin.Val admired him, her smile loopy. “It looks well on you.” Her hand reached out to smear more on his nose. “Where else shall I put it?” She did not wait for a response, and took his rough, scarred hands. She looked down at it, and the dust that glowed in swirls of blue and green on his hands.

“I’ll always envy you for those beautiful scars,” Val whispered. “At least you have two.” Her metal hand let go of their intertwined hands, until Azriel reached out to grab it.

“Don’t be ashamed, Val,” he said as he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it. She stared at him, wide-eyed at such a intimate act.

Instead, Val grabbed another handful of the star dust, and she threw it at his wings. His wings flared open slightly, and laughed again while he shook of the dust towards her wings. Before she could retaliate, he grabbed her and took her to his family, where they all danced and they all smiled. No war loomed over them. Only the beat of the music and the hearts that swelled.

But even with all that music and the laughing and drinking--Val settled her thinking with all the raging of the ancient and primal bond. She was never going to tell Azriel what he was to her. That cold only complicate this friendship they had right now. Only one thing was settled.

She was content with waiting. She had eternity to wait.

HERE IS SOME ART I DID BELOW. THE TOP IS WHAT I IMAGINED THE COLOR AND THE STYLE OF THE DRESS TO BE ON VAL

[siren-dragon]

La La Land -- (Ardyn Izunia x Reader) Ch. 4

Hey guys, I finally finished chapter 4! ^_^

I’m sorry if this one is a bit...weird, as I had a really hard time writing this chapter. It didn't help that I was basically crying throughout the entire thing. Anyway, here you are everybody; I hope you all enjoy it.

WARNING! - This chapter contains mature themes, so read at your own risk!

Tagging game: @poisonous-panda, @valkyrieofardyn, @maty-yami, and whoever else wishes to read this. :D

Chapter 4 – The Abyss

“Once you’ve met someone, you never really forget them.” –Spirited Away, 2001

The air was hot and humid within the Region of Leide, yet the high temperature had no effect upon him. Slowly he raised one foot in front of the other, traversing the desert landscape of Leide as if in a trance. How long had he been moving? Was it 2 hours…or 2 days? He didn’t know where he was going, only that he had to escape. To leave the horrors and nightmares behind-

“Oh Ardyn, you always were such an idealist.”

He immediately froze and spun about, staring at the finely dressed figure standing before him. “No…you aren’t here. You died….”

The man smirked, leaning casually against a rock. “Do you truly believe that such terrors will leave you?”

The red-headed healer stumbled back, falling onto the dirt and sand covered ground as he stared at the figure before him with a look of fear. “Stay away! Leave me alone, please!”

“Really Ardyn, begging? How the mighty have fallen.” The man spoke, shaking his head in mock sadness. “Though from king to daemon, I suppose I was a little too hopeful to see your pride intact.”

“I-I am not a daemon! I am Ardyn Lucis Caelum, King of Lucis!” He shouted in desperation.

“Not anymore.~” His brother grinned at him, his features beginning to mutate as the Scourge became more pronounced upon his flesh. “A King is sworn to defend his people….and you couldn’t even protect the woman you loved.”

Ardyn felt the daemons within him laugh, clawing away at his mind and shredding it to ribbons. He screamed in agony and quickly grabbed hold of a rock and bashed his head against it. Over, and over he slammed into the rock structure until blood covered the stone and his body remained still....

An hour later the corpse’s hand twitched and Ardyn rose from his sprawled-out position on the ground. His glazed, amber eyes took in the sight of the dried blood upon the rocks and his clothes with an air of sorrow.

That would make it attempt 274.

The further the sun fell below the horizon, the stronger the daemons became.

He tossed another twig into the small fire, his campsite a few feet away from the Haven. With the daemons he played host to, the Oracle’s runes repelled him in a similar manner to that of the nocturnal creatures. Ardyn let his head fall upon his knees, clenching his fists in anger at the fit he had experienced that afternoon.

“I am Ardyn…Lucis Caelum,” he murmured. “King of Lucis….”

Mocking laughter echoed all around him, causing Ardyn to place his hands tightly against his ears.

“I’m not afraid of you….”

The words were empty; a useless declaration of falsehood. He could hear their honeyed words that dripped with poison whispered within his mind. And for once, Ardyn did not care if he fell into that abyss. For what good was a King to his people if he could not even safe that which he holds most dear? Perhaps he should just fall into the nothingness-

“It’s alright, they won’t hurt you.”

Ardyn spun about, looking frantically into the shadows for the source of the voice that had spoken. He knew that voice…it was her voice. He was certain of it….

“Rest, I’ll be right here.”

Slowly he closed his eyes, and he could have sworn he felt a hand stroke his hair.

She always came when the darkness became too much.

When the daemons tore apart his mind and ravaged his body, she would be there; whispering words of comfort. He found her to be his life-line once more, even though she never appeared. However, he was content to live with just the sound of her voice.

And as time passed, he became stronger. No longer did he bend to the whims of the shadows, no; he was in command of it. And if the role of Accursed was to be his destiny, well, who was he to defy fate?

If only he knew how far he had fallen into that abyss….

“Good evening sir.”

Ardyn paused, turning to look toward the woman who had called out to him. And there (f/n) stood, clad in revealing clothing and smiling brightly with mischief dancing within her gaze.

“Good evening, my lady.” He replied, nodding his head in greeting.

“It’s a rather cold night…. Perhaps you would like some company to keep you warm.”

Long had it been since he had any pleasures of the flesh, and he had missed her so much. Slowly he held his hand out, a charming smile playing across his lips. “What was it you had in mind, my dear?”

“I’m sure I can think of something.” (f/n) giggled, taking hold of his hand. He leads (f/n) back to the inn he was staying in before quickly pulling her toward himself. Immediately his mouth found hers as he kissed her with the desperation of a starving man. She gasped in surprise before allowing her arms to snake around his shoulders, clawing at his back. Ardyn lifted her up, pushing her against the wall to gain a grip on her bottom before carrying her toward the bed.

She began removing his shirt and trousers, while he tore the bodice off her, exposing her bare chest. (f/n) laughed as she placed kiss along his neck, “you better pay extra for that, handsome.”

Ardyn froze, her words halting his actions. He moved his hands slowly down her waist, feeling the coldness of her skin as a feeling of dread filled his body. “Why…. Why are you so cold (f/n)?”

“My name’s not (f/n), but it can be if you want-“

“You were never cold….” He murmured absent-mindedly.

“Listen handsome, if you don’t want to do this then I’ll just-“

He grabbed her arms fiercely, his grip causing her to wince. “WHY ARE YOU SO COLD?!” Ardyn screamed, his sclera turning black as the Scourge revealed itself.

“S-Stop! Get away from me daemon!”

Ardyn blinked, watching the tears fall from the woman’s (e/c) eyes. Eyes that held nothing but fear in their depths...eyes that were not hers. He flung the woman onto the floor with a snarl. “Get out. Get out NOW!”

The prostitute scrambled to her feet, clenching her torn bodice to her chest as she fled the room; crying in terror. Ardyn breathed heavily as he stared at the closed door before collapsing to the floor and sobbing as he tugged at his hair. A light pressure pushed against his hair, causing Ardyn to look up. (f/n) knelt before him, smiling sadly at him as her fingers cupped his cheek.

“You…. You’re not real.” Ardyn muttered in defeat. “Just a silly illusion of a foolish man….”

“Yet you called me here.” She answered, allowing her fingers to run through his looks. “And I will stay with you.”

Ardyn closed his eyes as tears fell and the Scourge retreated into his body once more…

“Come back soon. I will keep your friends company until you are ready.” Ardyn spoke, watching the Crystal absorb the Chosen King.

He waved farewell to his dear friends, allowing the little blonde boy to attack him. After all, they would be of no use to him were they simply a trio of corpses. Calmly he picked his fedora back up and placed it upon his head before walking out of Zegnautus. Now all that was left was the waiting game….

“So, it’s finally over?” (f/n) spoke, falling into step beside him.

Ardyn shook his head. “No. But soon…soon it will be.”

“Then I suppose it is time for me to leave.”

He turned to face (f/n), taking hold of her hands. Ardyn frowned, feeling the coldness of her skin. “You’re still so cold…”

“Nothing is perfect. But for a mere fantasy based upon reality...you did pretty well my love.” (f/n) replied kindly before leaning forward and placing a single kiss upon his lips, “goodbye Ardyn.”

The Immortal Accursed waved his hand and slowly (f/n) image faded before disappearing completely. He spun on his heel and left the City of Gralea for the final time. It was time to leave the illusions behind.

There you go guys, the end of the chapter. I hope it was okay, as I’ve been a bit busy and sad while I was writing this. T____T

Anyway, stay tuned for the final chapter. See ya!