#he would be searching for any excuse to get him to abdicate so he could kill him properly though.

[kiyomitakada]

if light yagami were alive in 2024 i don't think he would kill trump but i do think he would be tempted to

[sideofmango]

The Warrior Queen & Her Pharaoh: Part I

Part I: In the Beginning

In honor of Black History Month (that’s coming up), and because I’m a nerd for mythology of any type, I thought it would be fun to write about one of my favorite time periods, Ancient Egypt. 

We didn’t really get to spend much time on them in school, and I love learning about these powerful Egyptian gods, goddess, pharaohs, and queens. 

So N E ways...ALSO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 400 FOLLOWERS...um WTF ILY <3

I TOOK SOME CREATIVE LIBERTIES (all characters are 18+ in this)

Pairings: pharaoh!god! Bakugou x warrior!princess! Reader Warnings: cursing, disrespectful people, bad bitch Mitsuki Description: Before the new pharaoh can be officially crowned, he must wed. You, the queen of a large warrior tribe called, The Zodos Tribe, are in the same position...the only problem? The future pharaoh is a bit of an ass.

*Extra info: this is written in third person so even though this is a reader insert, I’ll be writing it as if you’re another character so basically no me/my*

and yes, I’m aware it is kinda short and Bakugou isn’t in it that much, but it’s to set the scene lol...I promise there will be a lot of Bakubitch content in the next part

**Tag List is at the bottom**

𓂀 PART I  𓂀 PART II 𓂀 

The arid air and blazing sun didn’t make for the most comfortable environments, and yet many people called the desert home. 

In a secluded river valley lived the Zodos Tribe, the most fearsome warriors throughout the land, known for their brutality and unmatched strength. Though to (y/n), they were her family and her people. 

Princess (y/n), the eldest of seven children, sat in the ornate palace that overlooked the main river. She had recently been crowned the queen of her people after her father chose to abdicate the throne. Her attendants sat around her while others waved large palm leaves, blowing the dry air in an attempt to make it cooler. 

“(y/n), ready your belongings! You are to depart with your father within the hour.” The 18 year old turned seeing her mother’s slim form approach her. 

Eshe was the personification of grace, similar to her only daughter, though she was taller. Her smooth dark skin glittered in the sunlight and her golden eyes searched her daughter’s face for any signs of backtalk before a content look crossed her face when (y/n) simply sighed and nodded. 

“We readied her belongings already, Queen Mother.” (y/n)’s attendant, Subira, answered as she bowed upon her entrance to the room. 

“Very well.” Eshe nodded, her snake like eyes shifting from her daughter and her servants to the landscape. “Go ready yourself. You are to meet royalty, Girl.”

“I am royalty, Mother.” (y/n)’s tone was laced with boredom as she stood from her seat. “What’s so special about these royals I am to meet, anyways?”

“That is not my place to tell.” She replied before pushing her daughter towards her room and into the large bathroom. The cool stone rubbed against her warm skin as (y/n)’s attendants unrobed her and bathed her while two others released her hair.

Some time later, the teen was redressed and her hair had been braided again, this time with decorative gold beads and thread woven into her thick dark hair. She had been dressed into a white sleeveless sheath dress, over that a sheer white and gold kalasiri tied in place with a gold and intricately beaded sash. A wide beaded collar was secured around her neck, brightly colored stones and metals woven and set into the necklace.

(y/n) slid on a new pair of reed sandals after Subira had finished her makeup, the dramatic black liner around her almond shaped eyes made the golden hue that she had inherited from her mother shine in the light. “Let us depart.” (y/n) motioned to her ladies as they nodded, following after her as the teenage queen adjusted the heavy silver and gold bracelets around her wrists.

“You look like a true queen, (y/n).” Her mother said as (y/n) walked past the room she had once been in. 

“Thank you Mother. I will be off now.” (y/n) called back, not waiting for a response before walking out of the palace and towards her royal chariot where her father stood talking to one of the servants.

“Prepare the chariots.” Her father’s deep voice commanded as the servants nodded running off to get the large chariots ready for the journey. (y/n)’s father turned to look at her, his dark brown eyes looking her over once before smiling. “You look beautiful, Daughter.”

“Thank you, Father.” (y/n) smiled back as the servants ran back over stating that the chariots were ready to go.

(y/n) didn’t ask many questions of her father, mainly because she didn’t really care where they were going, though butterflies seemed to fill her stomach when the large palace in the capital city came into view as they crossed over another dune.

“Your mother asked me to remind you of your manners and your station before we left.” (y/n)’s father told her, as the girl sighed and rolled her eyes. Her father chuckled at her reaction before the pair stepped off of their chariots and were met by royal attendants from the palace.

“King Nafi, Princess (y/n), please follow me to the throne room. The Pharaoh and Great Royal Wife, are eager to converse.” 

“I am a-” (y/n) didn’t finish her sentence, feeling her father’s strong hand come down on her shoulder before he stepped forward and followed the attendant up the stairs and inside the large palace, leaving (y/n) to catch up.

“Stupid man. I’m a queen.” (y/n) mumbled to herself as she followed the men into the throne room. 

The teen stood beside her father, her eyes gazing over the two royal figures in front of her. One was a man with dark hair and dark eyes. A woman sat beside him, her hair ash blonde and her eyes a crimson color. They were both dressed lavishly as the woman sighed, mumbling something to her husband, before offering a smile to (y/n).

“I am sorry. My son seems to be unable to be found.” She told the girl who simply nodded before giving her father a look.

“(y/n), why don’t you walk the grounds? I have business to attend to with the Pharaoh and Great Royal Wife.” (y/n)’s father brushed her off, shooting her a look before practically pushing the girl towards the door.

“He doesn’t even have any power anymore! How dare he treat me like this. Why the hell did I even come if I’m not sitting in on the business? This is so stu-” (y/n) ranted to herself, not realizing where she was walking before she bumped into something...more like someone.

“Watch where you’re going, Extra!” The boy’s gruff voice said, his tone laced with venom as his red eyes glared down at where she sat after being knocked over.

“Oh get off your high horse! You can’t talk to me that way! I’m a Queen!” Her eyes finally landed on the boy’s face, his ash blonde hair wild and spiky as his crimson eyes seemed to darken and narrow. 

He didn’t wear full linens, only enough to cover his lower half, leaving his chest exposed. His skin was tanned from spending most of his time in the sun and a thin shine of sweat covered his muscles as if he had just been doing some type of physical activity before they had bumped into each other.

“Well here you aren’t.” The boy told her before scoffing and walking off down a corridor, not even bothering to help (y/n) up.

“Sorry. It was nice to meet you though.” A spiky redhead said with a small closed-mouth smile. He had been following the rude blonde along with another blonde male, a dark haired male, a pink skinned girl, and a dark haired girl. 

The group of teens were about to say something else to the girl when the explosive blonde from earlier could be heard yelling, “Kirishima, I didn’t allow you to socialize!”

“Uh r-right. Bye!” The red haired boy said before they all disappeared down the expansive hall.

“What a jerk.” (y/n) scoffed thinking back to the ash blonde. Getting up and dusting her hands off, she continued to walk around the halls.

The black girl returned back to the throne room after some time, having gotten lost though she was too proud to ask for help from one of the many servants scurrying around.

“Ah, you’ve arrived just in time for dinner, (y/n).” The blonde woman spoke, gesturing towards a large open room that overlooked the river, a large table filled with food sat in the middle.

“I apologize.” (y/n) said simply before taking a seat where the blonde woman had gestured, unfortunately across from that annoying boy from earlier. “Where is my father? My servants?” (y/n) wondered after a moment of silence, noticing that the people in question were missing.

“They’ve left some time ago.” She answered. “This is your new home after all.”

“Excuse me?” (y/n) and the blonde boy had the same reaction, choking on their food with wide eyes.

“Yes, your father never told you of the agreement?” The brown haired man asked.

“Agreement?” She repeated.

“Yes, you are to marry our son in two days time. It’s been arranged since before you both wore garments.” The blonde woman said with a small laugh.

(Fun fact: Ancient Egyptian children didn’t wear clothes until they were six years old, so they ran around naked except for the jewelry they wore)

“Him?”

“Her?”

“Show some respect to her Katsuki! She is to be your wife!” The woman said, slapping the boy’s head quickly causing (y/n) to smirk and laugh lightly.

Katsuki didn’t like that very much, glaring at the golden eyed girl with a low growl.

“Mitsuki, Katsuki...” The man started to say softly, flashing at smile at (y/n).

“You’re right Masaru. If only our son wasn’t such a brat.” Mitsuki sighed, slapping Katsuki again before going back to her food.

“I am the Pharaoh, you can’t treat me that way!” Katsuki protested, angrily cutting his meat.

“What was that?” Mitsuki questioned, her red eyes narrowing as she shot a warning look at her son. 

“Nothing.” Katsuki mumbled, his eyes narrowing into a glare at the black girl across from him.

What a dick. What did my parents get me into? (y/n) thought to herself as she stared back at the boy across from her.

Tag List: (Let me know if y’all wanna be added. Just send me a message)

@bakugous-mamas​ 

TAGS:

[sokkascroptop]

traitor. (sokka x f! reader) pt 1

part 2 | part 3

Azula was good at that, doing and saying things that made you want to yell back. It was her favorite thing to do on purpose and had become like second nature by accident. Y/N, in response, had become very good at holding her tongue over the years, and very good at calming herself when she wanted to lash out. More than once when they were children Azula had lobbed a fireball in her direction that had singed the clothes or skin it was aimed at. 

“Do you remember when we first met?” Azula asked. She was lounging on a chaise near the window cleaning her nails with a sharp blade. The sun was setting behind her basking her in a glowing, warm light. It made her gold eyes brighter, gold eyes that were staring intensely at her, waiting for an answer. 

“Of course I do. I came to the palace for a party with my parents,” Y/N responded. She was a ways away on Azula’s bed lying on her stomach. She flipped over and hung her head off the bed letting the blood rush to her cheeks. Azula was smirking at her. 

“No, at school. When I chose you.” Azula tossed the knife she was using and it thudded into the dark wood of her door frame. A door frame that was sliced with notches of where the girls–her, Azula, Ty Lee and Mai– would measure their heights when they were younger; or where Azula would stab her knife deep in the wood, for safekeeping, she would always say. 

Chose. That was a word that Y/N was familiar with. It usually meant that you were special, but to her, to Azula and the girls and Y/N’s parents, it just meant she was lucky. 

“Of course I do,” Y/N repeated.

Y/N started at the Royal Fire Nation Academy for Girls later than most. She was already nearly ten and had always had a slew of private tutors. But her father had been recently promoted to Commander and it was insisted that his daughter, his progeny, had the right type of upbringing–and apparently that meant not running through the forests of Ember Island barefoot. 

She not-so-fondly remembered the heavy uniform they wore, so different than her thin cotton pants and tunic she was used to. The Capital City was in the same climate as Ember Island, so why did they wear silk? It was so hot. Y/N had hated moving back to the Capital City, and out of their summer home that had become her year round home the minute her mother decided it was much better to be away from the city. 

“That first week was hellish. I’d never had to listen to authority before, or hang out with children my age and suddenly that’s all I had. You saved me.”

“Saved you,” Azula scoffed. “I do remember you being quite the little heathen.”

“Hey! I just meant from lashings from the teachers,” Y/N laughed and threw a decorative pillow at Azula’s head. She caught it quick as a cat-snake with one hand and brought it to her chest. 

They sat in an easy silence, Y/N wondering why Azula had brought up the moment they met. The first words that she’d ever said to Y/N echoed in her mind. “We’re going to be great friends.”

Azula wasn’t wrong when she prophesied that they were going to be great friends. Azula wasn’t necessarily the ‘welcome with open arms’ type, but she did whatever was closest to that with Y/N. She became a part of them, almost instantly. They had class together, they ate lunch together, they went back to the palace and trained together. Everything, together. Ty Lee was the most friendly of them all, she often braided Y/N’s hair over and over, taking it out and braiding it back, just to have something to do with her hands. Mai was sweet once you got past her glum exterior. Azula was, well, Azula. She was cold one minute and hot the next, literally. Her emotions changed as quickly as the weather. She might throw a fireball at your head if she was mad. But the next moment she’d sweeten you up with fruit tarts she’d stolen from the kitchen and all would be forgotten. 

Y/N kept thinking about Azula’s words as she trained with one of the palace guards later that evening. He wasn’t the best with a sword, but he was a fire bender, and that gave her a better workout. 

Y/N was a non-bender, but masterful with a sword. It was her father’s favorite hand to hand weapon and he had insisted on her training with it even at a young age. By the time she started at the Royal Academy, she was able to beat her trainers regularly.

Becoming friends with Azula gave her access to some of the best fighters in the Fire Nation, and even that was becoming boring. 

Y/N slashed at the guards neck. He threw a fireball at her that dissipated harmlessly where she once stood. She landed in a crouch and kicked her leg out at the back of the guards knee, it buckled and he fell. She bounced to her feet and pointed the tip of her sword at the back of his neck. She saw a swatch of pale skin there which dripped with sweat. A small part of her wanted to dig her sword in and draw bright red blood. 

A slow clap echoed through the courtyard that awoke her from those dark thoughts. Y/N smiled at her friend and patted the guards shoulder. “See you later.” 

She jogged to join Azula who was starting to walk away. “Come to watch and fawn over me for old times sake?” Y/N giggled and wiped the sweat off her brow. She sheathed her sword and felt the familiar weight bounce against her hip. 

“You give yourself far too much credit.” Y/N could tell Azula was in a good mood. A better mood than she’d seen in a while. They reached Y/N’s room and she dropped her sword on the bed.

“Why are you so chipper, ‘zula?”

The left corner of her mouth tilted up in the ghost of a smile. “Father wants to speak to you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Me?”

“I think I know what it’s about but I won’t ruin the surprise. Come on, we don't want to keep him waiting.”

Y/N’s stomach turned. She’d only stood in front of the Fire Lord a handful of times. The first being the first time she traveled to the palace when she was very young. At the time she didn’t know the weight of what she was doing, now she did and she was filled with terror. What in Agni’s name could he want with her? She was just a Commander’s daughter who had befriended his daughter. 

The throne room was cold despite the summer heat outside and the fire burning around the Fire Lord. It was dark as well, the black marble floor and columns absorbed the only light from the flames licking upward to their Master. The only sound was the crackling fire and the click of Y/N’s boots; Azula was always so light footed she hardly made a sound. 

A drop of sweat leftover from Y/N’s workout dripped down her spine and she shivered at the feeling. Ten yards away from the throne, Y/N dropped to one knee and bowed her head. Azula bowed slightly and stood behind Y/N’s right shoulder. 

“Fire Lord, it is an honor to be in your presence,” Y/N said. She could feel the heat from the flames now that she was closer. Whether from nervousness or the warmth that filled her face, she began to sweat. 

“You may stand.” The Fire Lord’s voice was higher than she remembered. It didn’t fit the aura he gave off and he sounded bored. Y/N stood with her hands behind her back at attention. She didn’t want to have any excuse for Azula to chastise her when they left. “Azula tells me that you are gifted at sword fighting.”

Y/N fought the urge to send a questioning look to her friend. Azula talked to the Fire Lord about her? She stared at the black outline of his tall figure seated in his enormous chair. “I’m adequate, sire.”

“Beating every single one of my palace guards is more than what I would call adequate,” the Fire Lord remarked.

“Your palace guards are extremely well trained in fire bending but not in sword fighting, sire.” Y/N grimaced and ducked her head, cursing internally at her mouth that was too quick for her brain.

Azula chuckled softly behind Y/N. Now she did turn around to stare at her friend. She whipped her head back not knowing how disrespectful it was to turn your back on the Fire Lord. 

“Azula will be leaving tomorrow for the Earth Kingdom to capture my brother, General Iroh and the Fire Prince Zuko. I want you to go with her.”

Y/N paused for a beat. Capture them? The last she heard was that they were on a pointless mission to catch the Avatar. Iroh was disgraced and went with Zuko when he was banished because Iroh couldn’t face his brother when he abdicated the throne for his failure at Ba Sing Se. What could they have done searching for a dead Avatar that could get them into more trouble? Y/N could feel Azula’s sharp nails dig into her arm behind her back and she knew she had waited too long to speak. 

“It would be an honor to accompany Fire Princess Azula on this mission, My Lord.” Y/N clasped a fist in her left hand and held it below her right palm and bowed deeply. 

If the Fire Lord was pleased with her, his tone didn't show it. “Wonderful. You’re dismissed.” 

Y/N couldn’t get out the room fast enough. 

Azula was more excitable than ever on their walk back to their rooms. She grabbed Y/N’s arms and tugged like she was a small child. “This is going to be so amazing for me, Y/N! For us!”

Azula seemed to notice Y/N’s hesitation to agree with her. This earned her a sharp look. “Don’t you want the honor and recognition that bringing home two traitors would give you? You’d be promoted higher than your father. Agni knows you’d be more deserving of the title.”

Y/N gave Azula the smile she was waiting for. “Of course. I guess I’m still a little shell shocked at the Fire Lord giving me such an amazing opportunity.”

“Well you can thank me for that.”

Y/N stopped at the door to her room. “Thank you, Azula,” she said before she could snatch the words back. Azula rounded the corner to the stairs that would take her to her room and Y/N took a deep, calming breath, working hard to push away the anger the Azula had incited. 

Azula was good at that, doing and saying things that made you want to yell back. It was her favorite thing to do on purpose and had become like second nature by accident. Y/N, in response, had become very good at holding her tongue over the years, and very good at calming herself when she wanted to lash out. More than once when they were children Azula had lobbed a fireball in her direction that had singed the clothes or skin it was aimed at. 

She slid down the wall inside her room. Did Y/N want the honor and glory that Azula talked about? She should, with how she was raised, but now that it was offered on a silver platter, Y/N wasn’t so sure that it was for her. Recently, it became all Azula wanted to talk about. Training and war meetings had become her life so suddenly. And if they were Azula’s life, they were Y/N’s life as well. Y/N wasn’t allowed to sit in on the war meetings but it didn’t matter because Azula always came back to relay what happened in them. ‘Relay’ was the wrong word, more like brag about them. Azula was anything but informative when she spoke. Y/N tried to find some interest in the things the Fire Nation was accomplishing but to Y/N it just turned her stomach. She’d never admit it to anyone, especially Azula but she was sickened by the war. 

When did life become this way? All about war and capturing cities and cleansing the world? She wished things were back to simpler times when the girls ran the palace wild and teased Zuko and the maids. She knew that in the past three years since Zuko’s banishment, Fire Lord Ozai had been calling on Azula more and more frequently, upping her firebending training to half the day. But Y/N never thought it would come to this. 

Y/N skipped out on dinner that night, just told the maids to take the tray of roast turtle-duck back to the kitchen. Her stomach had been in knots since leaving the throne room. Her and Azula were leaving. Sure, Y/N hadn’t lived with her parents in years; this would be her fifth year of calling the palace home, but for some reason, she didn’t feel like she was going to come back. 

Y/N instead slid into a hot bath that she drew for herself for once and mulled in her thoughts. As if the steam in the room was steeping her memories like tea leaves she thought of what this mission was supposed to entail. Things that happened around the palace and behind closed doors were usually hidden from her unless she heard gossip from the servants or occasionally, Azula. But she didn’t seem like she was going to give up any information about it. What did Iroh do to betray the Fire Nation? He was one of the best General’s they’d ever had, even after his defeat at Ba Sing Se. And what did Zuko do that was even worse than his banishment? 

None of that matters, she told herself. Her previous ideas about the kind of men they were didn’t matter anymore. If the Fire Lord said that Zuko and Iroh needed to be captured, then that’s what needed to be done. 

A/N: uh oh, settle in for more inner angst as y/n tries to figure out where her heart lies. what is more important? honor? friendship? peace?

[kaminobiwan]

indulgence

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader

summary: Obi-Wan tests the waters of his feelings for you.

a/n: Oblivious pining turns into….well, just plain pining! I’m so happy you guys liked my first fic, so here’s another glimpse of Obi drowning in feels loll (I promise these two will graduate from this stage eventually). Again, thank you so so much — your support and feedback is so touching, more than you know! You guys are the best!

It’s a long trip back to Coruscant from Saleucami, and for once, a moment of peace imbues the Jedi cruiser as it travels through hyperspace.

After losing the trail of General Grievous on the backwater planet, Obi-Wan and his troops had been picked up by none other than the Resilient — your flagship — and he’d had the sense to think himself lucky as he approached you, looking at home in command on the bridge.

Obviously, he’d been vexed that he’d failed in capturing Grievous. But the frustration had melted away once you’d laid a hand on his shoulder and reassured him that he’d have another chance.

Then you’d forced him to join you for a late-night snack and catch-up session in your cabin after he’d been patched up and you’d finished the last of your duties for the day. “Some time alone,” you’d insisted. “When’s the last time we’ve had a minute to ourselves without the Padawans?”

Obi-Wan hadn’t needed any convincing.

Here, in the intimacy of the small room, it’s easy to forget your ferocity and sheer effectiveness on the battlefield as you sit cross-legged across him, contentedly munching on a blumfruit tart from your secret stash on the Venator. Happy, as if you hadn’t just clashed with Grievous yourself in an untamed explosion of lightsabers the day before.

You’d come to his rescue — again. This time, with Master Gallia as she’d saved him from the ruptured air lock while you’d taken on the droid General.

He’d given up on keeping count at this point.

Instead, he’d taken to repaying you in small ways, like gifting you the Endorian pastries you were currently eating, or quizzing each other on planetary politics whenever your spare hours coincided — a habit the two of you had formed in your early years of training. (Though now, Obi-Wan suspects that it’s more of a disguised attempt at getting him to sit down and rest once in a while. He doesn’t mind. In fact, he appreciates it — at least that way he can play it off as appeasing you rather than him taking a break from his duties.)

It was the least he could do for you. He’d seen the barely concealed worry in your eyes when he’d left in pursuit of Grievous, the way the tension had visibly left your body when he’d returned to the fleet shortly after.

It wasn’t that your concern was misplaced. He did tend to get tunnel vision when it came to the monstrous cyborg. As his closest friend, you’d been apprehensive at his blind determination to not let the General escape.

But the curt way you’d told him to come back safely had made him feel guilty. Even though he had done as you’d asked, he’d made a mental note to review as many political and military updates as you wanted to after his debrief.

Plus, it was a professional excuse to enjoy a private tradition with you. Obi-Wan could almost fool himself with the excuse that the occasional quiet nights you’d spend together were purely intellectual.

What he’d never tell you, though, was that he sometimes liked to purposely answer questions wrong just to see the gleam in your eye as you’d supply the correct explanation. Your enthusiasm was achingly contagious.

“Senator for Malastare?”

It’s the tie-breaker question — you’d accurately remembered the capital of Haruun Kal seconds prior.

“Senator Moe?”

You shake your head. “Senator Aak,” you wrinkle your nose at the name, and Obi-Wan smothers his amusement. “Took office when Aks Moe was assassinated on Aargau. I remember because he kicked up a fuss about the failed negotiations on Trandosha.”

Obi-Wan raises his brows in recognition. He’d known that, at least. Just before the war, you’d been sent along with Oppo Rancisis to facilitate a peace treaty between Trandosha and Kashyyyk, but the mission had ultimately failed. Obi-Wan had heard the story from you dozens of times, to the point where he was almost able to recite it himself.

Still, he’d never been able to stop you. It would be a lifetime before he’d tire of hearing you recount your adventures, and he’d been the one to ask every time, anyway. Even if all he’d wanted to know was if the Caamasi peace officers you’d travelled with really did smell like Corellian whiskey.

(They did, according to you. Or rather, Corellian whiskey smelled like them.)

“He’s not the biggest fan of the Jedi.” Your voice cuts through his thoughts and brings his attention back to the conversation, back to Senator Aak. “Seems to have it out for Master Rancisis.”

Obi-Wan hums pensively. “I see you’ve gotten over your dislike for the old master.”

You blink at him in surprise, but it quickly washes away to a bitten smile. “I never disliked him, I thought he disliked me. You know how hard it is to read Thisspiasian facial expressions.”

“Isn’t that a little —” he begins on a joke about species, but the look you give him is enough to silence him in a heartbeat. Regardless, the air between you is charged with mirth.

“I respect him, greatly. He’s one of the best tacticians in the Order. I certainly hope you haven’t been spreading any rumors about him because of me.”

“More like the oldest tactician,” he mumbles, but you still match his grin.

“I’m serious! Maker knows how much of a gossip you are, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

He feigns theatrical offense at that, and you throw the wrapper of your pastry at him playfully. He bats it away with a laugh, and observes you appreciatively as you get up to discard it properly. Every time. He knows you can’t bear to leave even the smallest of messes. Part of your ‘leave-the-galaxy-better-than-you-found-it’ ideal, he supposes. It’s one of his favorite things about you.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t said a thing. Your secrets will always be safe with me.” He emphasizes sincerity at the end of his sentence, and it’s a thrill to even push the boundary of platonic conversation. Even if his true meaning is hidden by layers and layers of restrained camaraderie. You mean more to him than you’ll ever know — he’ll always be loyal to you.

In his contemplation, he misses the way your cheeks burn.

“I’m having tea with him soon after we return,” you murmur softly, without the humor of before, but your eyes remain bright with affection. “You should join — I think you’d like his stories. Did you know he turned down the throne of Thisspias when he was just a knight? He could have been a Blood Monarch, but he abdicated to stay with the Jedi instead.” It almost looks like you’re searching for something in his gaze as you speak. “Kind of admirable, isn’t it? All he gave up for the Code.”

….He doesn’t know what to say.

Stars above, is this your way of telling him it’ll never happen? Do you even know?

Thankfully, his brain goes into overdrive as his heart stutters. “Of course,” he finds himself replying. “Of course, it’s very selfless of him.”

You smile roguishly. “Though I’m sure he indulges himself in other ways. We can’t all be perfect devotees like you.”

And just like that, the practiced composure he usually reserves for everyone else is gone again, replaced by the warm familiarity you always surround him with. He swallows down the lump in his throat.

“I assure you, I’m not perfect,” he says, gently, like your touch on his shoulder as you pass. “Far from it. I myself have certain indulgences that might surprise even you.”

“Oh?” Your voice rings with delight, and he chases your presence, leaning your way. “Do enlighten me, Obi-Wan, of what the person that knows you best is supposedly not privy to.”

If only he could tell you. He’s simultaneously dying to confess and unwilling to sacrifice your steadfast friendship with an admission that would undoubtedly change your relationship forever.

You begin to clear off the small table you’d both been gathered around, and he watches you comfortably in lieu of responding. “I’m only teasing. I don’t mean to put on more pressure on you than you already do yourself —” he rolls his eyes at that, “besides, I’m not sure I even want to know how you manage to get your hands on blumfruit tarts with all the trade regulations in the Outer Rim.” You settle down next to him, in a position he knows you’ll be in for the rest of the night if he doesn’t leave. And he doesn’t plan to — if you let him, he’ll spend the entire ride home by your side, shoulder to shoulder until the blue streaks of hyperspace fade into the blinking lights of Coruscant. Before settling into a comfortable silence, you nudge him fondly. “I’ll take it to be one of those indulgences.”

“Yes,” he whispers, as you relax against him. “I’d say this is one.”

He’s not talking about the pastries.

[anjanettexcordonia]

Bloodlines

**Trigger Warnings**

DARK DARK DARK

-NSFW/Mental Health/Violence/Rape Minimal fluff if any at all tbh.

***If you are sensitive to any of these please do not read.

Pairing: Liam x Celeste, Liam x Madeleine, Drake, Bastien 

Word Count: 4,874 (I know its forever long but its worth it in my biased opinion)

This is my first time writing any kind of fiction. I was inspired by all of you amazing writers! I received positive feedback on this chapter so I’m hoping you all like it too! Its very dark and very very twisted. I can not emphasize it enough.

**READ WITH CAUTION**

Excuse any grammatical errors or misspellings.

This will be a six part series. I do not have a timeline for when I will post. (I’m a mom & work full time)

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry

Tags: 

@gkittylove99 @kingliam2019 @yourmajesty09 @cordonia-gothqueen @mom2000aggie @texaskitten30 @hopefulmoonobject

Part Two

Two weeks after his mother Queen Eleanor’s death, Prince Liam stood on the dais of the cathedral. looking up at his older brother Leo. “It’s a monumental day for Cordonia, Liam, you best behave yourself and no tears. Our people from all over will be watching your new mother become Queen” Constantantine’s lecture was on repeat in his mind. Leo looked down at Liam and offered him a reassuring squeeze of his hand. Their lives changed after that day. And they would never be the same. 

Ten years had gone by since Regina began her reign beside their father. They had learned they had a sister long before the death of their mother but she had been a secret. Celeste. And she was the apple of their father and step-mothers eye. 

“Drake, after our lessons today we should go down to the beach . I hear Max has found a cove with killer waves we can ride.” Liam asked Drake. They were on their way down to the classroom in the palace when they ran into Constantine. “Where have you been? I’ve had the guards searching for you Drake. Come with me, now.” Drake kept pace with Constantine, he looked back at Liam with a worried look etched across his pubescent face. 

Hours went by and Liam paced around his room waiting to hear from Drake. He had been texting him for hours with no response. He had gone to his father's study only to find it empty. Where the fuck is Drake? Leo had been in America for the last few years, Drake had become like his brother and now he was just ignoring him. 

Late that night unable to sleep, Liam tossed and turned in his bed. He texted Olivia. She had lived at the palace since her parents death under the watchful eye of the King.

“Liv, have you heard from Drake?” 

“You haven’t heard? Liv responded. 

“Heard what?” 

“Drake's dad is dead, some accident apparently” 

Liam was stunned. No wonder he wasn’t answering him. 

“Fuck what happened?” 

“I don’t know Li, they said there was a car accident.” 

Liam heard the doors to the royal quarters open and voices trailing down the hallway. 

“Constantine no one will ever find out. If Jackson had just minded his own business and stopped looking for Leo, none of this would have had to happen. He became a loose end.” Liam heard Regina snap at Constantine. 

What the fuck? Looking for Leo? Doesn’t make sense. Liam thought. 

Liam slowly opened his door to hear their conversation a little better. 

“If we had ended Leonardo like I had suggested, there would have been nothing for Jackson to find. This is your fault Constantine. He found his dossier he had on you too. He planned to turn you over for you sick perversions you have with that Nevrakis traitors daughter.” 

Olivia and my father? End Leo? What’s going on? I have to talk to Drake and Olivia. Where is Leo? I have to find out. 

Their quarters went quiet. 

Liam has been busy with studies for a few days. In his spare time he had tried to reach out to his friends. He searched for clues as to Leo’s whereabouts to no avail. 

He was at a dead-end. 

A year had gone by. Drake was gone. Olivia had denied Regina's accusation. He had seen Drake at Jackson’s funeral. He said he would be going to Texas with his mother and sister for a while. Olivia had moved back to the Nevrakis castle in Lythikos. At 17 she was able to regain her title as Duchess and rule her own Duchy. Max spent most of his time in Ramsford. Bertrand never let him stray too far these days. 

Time had passed as time typically does. Constantine had announced his abdication from the throne and announced Liam was now the crown prince and the heir to the throne. Celeste was pissed as usual. “The crown will never be yours Liam. You're a commoner like your whore of a mother. You're unfit to rule. You will bow to me in 3 weeks at MY coronation.” 

“Shut the fuck up Celeste. The sound of your voice makes me want to vomit.” Liam hissed. They were not siblings. Simply bound by half blood and they both knew it. Leo was his only sibling. If only he could find him. 

BOOM! 

Liam woke with a jerk. He groaned. He could barely open his eyes. Why is it so bright? Why can’t I move? Everything hurts. He heard a loud pop and a laugh. He recognized that laugh. He despised that laugh. Madeline. Liam tried to speak but nothing would come out. 

“Celeste, he's awake. It’s time my dear.” Madeline “Finally I thought he would never wake up.” Celeste mumbled. 

Liam heard the click of Regina's heels enter the room.

“Celeste, first things first we need to secure your throne. Have you prepared yourself?” 

“Yes Mother” 

Regina walked over to the bedside of the bed he was strapped to. He fought against his restraints but they were bound too tight around his wrists and ankles. Regina peered down at him with a grin he didn’t recognize. He and Regina we’re never close. He was all too familiar with her adversity to his presence in the royal family, she didn't attempt to hide it. 

“Liam, you’re a disgrace to this family. Your mere existence brings shame to the Rhys line. Your mother was a whore. And she deserved her death. Your brother was never meant to be King nor are you. You will meet the same fate as he.” 

“Now Celeste” Regina commanded. Regina and Madeline retreated to carefully placed chairs. They were far enough way but still able to view everything about to take place in the torture chamber. Liams hell was about to begin. 

Celeste walked over to Liam and climbed on top of him. Liam did not realize he was completely naked until that moment. Celeste hiked her dress over her head revealing her completely nude body. She grabbed Liams flaccid manhood and began pumping. Liam screamed and faught. 

“THIS IS SICK! GET OFF OF ME STOP TOUCHING ME REGINA MAKE HER STOP MADELINE PLEASE HELP” Liam screamed out. Tears were stinging his eyes. “Please stop, I'll do whatever you want” Celeste continues pumping his manhood until it was firmly erect against Liam’s will. 

“This is only the beginning Liam, if we let you go now you’ll become King. We can’t have you spreading lies about our sweet Celeste. Can we?” Liam was sobbing. Celeste mounted Liam and her core slid down taking all of him. She rode him with no emotion. Liam begging for her to stop willing his body to stop her. He realized her intentions while his body betrayed him and he released his seed into her. Liam let out a blood curdling scream when Celeste dismounted him. 

“You're excused Celeste. Go immediately and lay down. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” She turned to Liam as Celeste left the chamber. “You’ve planted the heir and fulfilled your duty as King.” she sneered. 

Regina mumbles something to Madeline and she left the room. 

“My Liam, My King, it’s my turn to do with you as I please. I will revel in your torture and fall from grace. You were always oblivious to my affections just like Leo. Greeting me as formal as any other lady at court. Truly sickening. So if you won’t choose me. I’ll take what I please.” 

Liam laid in silence staring up at the dimly lit lights overhead. He recognized this room. It was below the castle in a secret passageway he and Drake discovered as children. It was blocked off years ago he thought. Now he knew why. They were planning this for years. Had Leo been in this room? What had they done to him? 

“Madeline wait, I’ll give you what you want. Let me go. Untie me. Please. I won’t let any harm come to you. I can protect you.” He pleaded with her. 

“No you’re lying just shut up.” 

A tear fell from the corner of his eye as once again she took him in the same fashion as Celeste had. 

Liam saw this as an advantage. He started to participate in his assault. He pumped into her as fast and hard as he could while restrained. “There we go Liam I knew you couldn’t resist this pussy.” She moaned. “Fuck you’re so tight Maddie” he grunted. “Untie me so I can fuck you right, I need you.” Madeline complied and untied his wrist restraints. He flew up still pumping into her and twisted her hair in his hand and pulled her head back. He bit her neck hard drawing blood. “I want you from behind” he groaned in her ear. She reached his ankle restraints and untied them. As soon as he was free he slammed her down on the table. He fucked her hard and fast mutilating her womanhood. “Who’s your King?” Liam roared feeling her walls tighten around his cock.  “You’re my King” she screamed as she reached climax. 

“What happened to my brother Madeline?” Liam asked, breathing heavy still thrusting inside her as she came down from her climax. He realized this was his chance to get the information that he needed out of Madeline. She would give him anything at that moment. 

“I..I..” Madeline stammered. 

“Please Madeline” Liam begged. “Help me.” Thrusting harder. 

“He’s alive. He’s been admitted into Fydelia psychiatric hospital. He’s been there for 3 years since his mental break.” Madeline moaned. 

“Mental break?” Liam thrusted harder. “Tell me or I won’t give you another release My Queen.” He felt her walls tighten around his cock at his false words. 

“Drake's father had been searching for him. And they found him. Leo was able to tell him everything. He told the truth of Regina and Constantine. So Walker was silenced. I will receive the same fate if anyone finds out I told you. Call me your Queen again.” 

“I have to get out over here. I have to find him and expose what’s been going in the palace. I have to stop them.” Liam said through gritted teeth. A sudden fire coursing through his body. Anger and vengeance filling his veins. He wrapped his hand around Madeleine’s throat and squeezed bringing her to the brink of blacking out, her eyes wide as he continued pounding into her with angry force. He pulled himself out of her and spilled his seed on the table. 

“No you can’t. I can’t let you. I’m sorry Liam.” Madeline sighed. She knew she made a mistake and Regina will have her head on a pike. They heard a knock on the door. Madeline’s face drained of color. Shit. 

“Lady Madeline, are you finished yet?” Regina called through the door. Liam stood ready for a fight. 

“You have to put the restraints back on Liam.” Madeline whispered. “Just a minute, Your Majesty” she called out. 

“Fuck You Maddie.” Liam snarled. 

“REGINA!” Madeline screamed. She threw her dress back on as Regina slammed the door open.

“I see you found my dear nieces weakness, William. You.” Regina laughed.

“I will destroy you Regina. You will be charged with the highest of treason against the crown. I will have you drawn and quartered in front of all Cordonia! Liam roared at her. 

“Kneel to your Queen or I will make you kneel.” 

“Fuck you and my father.” Liam started to lunge at her. Before his feet left the ground he felt a a cloth cover his face and everything went black.

“You will kneel to your Queen Bastard.” Regina pulled a dagger from the pocket of her freshly pressed pant suit. She sliced the back of both of Liam’s knees. “The blood of the bastards have littered this place for far too long. Get out Madeline. Tend to Celeste. She will soon be carrying the heir to my throne.” Madeline left the room.

When Liam woke, he was back on the table restrained with a gag in his mouth. “Now Crown Prince William Constantine Rhys of Cordonia. You're awake. What shall I do to you?” Shall I slice your chest open and rip out your heart? “How can I inflict the worst pain possible for you to give up a country Liam? Ya know your brother was fairly easy. A few days of intense pain and anguish destroyed him. He never really wanted to be King you know. Forcing his abdication was quite easy. The resistance came when he realized you would meet the same fate as he.” Regina circles slowly around wielding the dagger in her hand. “All it takes is the smallest cuts in the most sensitive of places to break a person entirely.” She kneeled down and sliced the bottom of each of his feet from toes to heel. “You aren’t King, you will never be King. Celeste will produce your heir. She will take her rightful place on the throne and you will become a footnote in history. Her child will bleed Rhys from both sides. The child’s blood will no longer be tainted by the blood of whores.” She stabbed the knife between his ribs. Blood covered her hands and the floor around Liam. 

Liam was tortured for three weeks in the same fashion. Madeline never returned again. Celeste coming in beforehand to claim his seed & Regina following behind with brutal measures of torture. She electrocuted him with cattle prods. Beat him until he could no longer feel pain with whips and chains. He was numb. Small and large cuts, bruises and broken bones littered his body. He no longer had his golden blonde hair. She had shaved it completely to make him feel lesser than she. He was awarded one meal a day and 2 glasses of water. Regina said only to maintain his strength to give Celeste his heir. He was losing his hope and resolve. He knew no one was coming. He wasn’t King yet. The coronation was swiftly approaching. 

Liam lost all sense of time since being held in captivity. He no longer cared. He was ready to die. 

“Hello Bastard.” Regina spoke softly. “It’s time to prepare your abdication speech. I will bring a doctor in today. It’s time for you to rejoin the rest of the world. Your father would like to visit today.” 

Liam sat up. No longer willing to fight. The restraints no longer needed. 

“Yes my Queen.” She had won.

“Get dressed and clean yourself up. He will be down after dinner. He would like to speak with you about the coronation ball and what it means for you after. I don’t care much what happens to you, but your father and his soft heart for some reason… does.” She stomped out the door slamming it shut. 

Liam heard the lock click. He let out a long sigh. Suddenly the dams in eyes broke free and the tears flowed. Liam convulsed on the bed unable to control the sobs and screams coming from him. What had he done so wrong to receive this treatment? Why did his father not love him? Why couldn’t they just kill him? 

What seemed like hours later Constantine came blinding into the room. “My son” he said softly as he saw his youngest son perched on the side of his small cot. Constantine barely recognized him. 

Liam looked up at him not speaking a word. He opened his mouth but the words wouldn’t come out. “As you know Princess Celeste will be taking the throne. What I’ve come to discuss with you is your position in the royal family after the fact. You know you will not be allowed access to the...child. How would Duke of Valtoria sound? It’s quite generous and Regina has agreed. The conditions of silence still apply. I will even allow Leo to reside with you.” Constantine started matter of fact. 

“Where the fuck is he?” Liam and Constantine snapped their heads as they heard Drake’s booming voice outside the chamber door. The door crashed open and Drake charged through straight for Constantine not even noticing Liam. 

“You evil bastard. I will kill you, treason be damned. You deserve to die for what you did to her! What you did to Olivia! Raping and beating her into submission? Why because you were afraid of what she would do to you when she found out the truth? You’re a sick bastard” Drake screamed so loud Liams ears began to ring. His heart started to pound. 

“Drake what…” Drake didn’t give the King time to finish before he heard a loud pop. The bullet pierced Constantine’s heart and he staggered back and fell to the floor. “Now the cancer won’t take you out. Burn in hell Constantine Rhys Disgrace to Cordonia.” 

Drake looked up “Li” he whispered. “How, where….. I..I’m sorry.. He.. he hurt Olivia...oh my God..Li what have I done? Where have you been?” 

“Drake get me out of here before Regina comes back. HURRY! Constantine deserved it. I only regret it wasn’t me who pulled the trigger” Liam cried. 

Drake scooped Liam in his arms and ran out the door. He ran straight for Bastiens room carefully avoiding any possibility of anyone seeing them. He kicked Bastiens door open. Bastien sprung from his bed at the sight of Drake carrying a severely battered Liam. 

“Prince Liam, What happened?” He looked at Drake” We need to get him out of here.” Bastien yelled. Bastien called down and procured a SUV to get them away from the palace. “Bastien I shot constantine. He’s dead. We need to get in touch with Olivia.” Drake whispered. 

They reached the garage and got in the SUV. “We’re flying out of the country tonight. We have a few days before the coronation to figure out our next move.” Bastien said. Liam laid his against the window feeling exhausted. He felt like he hadn’t slept in days. A few minutes later they boarded a private jet headed to New York. On board was a doctor Duke Rashad had sent to join them. “Rashad will be our eyes and ears while we’re away. We will figure out a plan while you’re healing Li. What happened to you? I know I’ve been away but you could have called me.” Drake said with a hint of guilt in his tone. 

“Thank you Drake for everything. Have you heard anything from Olivia? I want eyes on her immediately. She should be in Lythikos.” Liam whispered. Drake noticed a change in his best friend. His eyes were hollow and empty. Emptiness he had never seen in anyone before. There was no emotion behind his eyes. His movements fluid and muscle memory. He was a shell. What had they done to him? Drake wondered. 

“Li what happened?” 

“Rrrr..Regina and Constantine hurt Leo. He’s in a psychiatric hospital in Fydelia. He was never in America. Constantine abused Olivia relentlessly and no one ever knew. They covered it up.” 

Liam looked away. He didn’t want Drake to see the tears threatening to escape his eyes. The lump in his throat tightened. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. His chest was getting heavier. His vision blurred and then black. He could faintly hear Drake yelling for the doctor onboard. 

“Li.. Li… wake up we’re getting ready to land.” Drake said as he gently shook Liam's shoulder. Liam sat up with a jerk. His eyes darted around the cabin. He didn’t know where he was yet. “It’s okay Li. We’re still on the jet. We will be landing at JFK in 20 minutes. Then you’re going straight to the hotel. The onboard doctor has already set up home healthcare at the hotel. They are fully equipped and we won’t have to worry about your location getting out.” 

Liam relaxed. “Thanks Drake. Sorry for passing out. Guess I was just exhausted.” He looked down to see an iv taped to his hand. “Fluids and antibiotics. Doc says you’re severely dehydrated and slightly malnourished. You have 3 broken ribs. They will heal on their own. Your stab wound needed stitches but it was in the healing stages already . It’s going to leave a gnarly scar.” Drake informed him. You must’ve been held for awhile.” 

Once they were in the suite in the hotel the doctors came in to check Liam’s wounds and set up his IV medications, Liam looked over at Drake, “thanks for finding me Drake. You saved my life.” Liam mumbled drifting off to sleep. “Get some rest Liam. I’m going to talk to Bastien.” 

After Liam drifted off into a deep sleep Drake went to find Bastien. 

“Bas, what are we going to do? How could this have happened?” 

“Before Jackson was killed, he had some intel that he shared with me. This was an ongoing plan to remove Leo & Liam from the throne. King Constantine and Queen Regina were planning this long before the late Queen Eleanor’s. We have intel that they were behind her death. Regina and Constantine had a traditional Cordonian Arrangement prior. No one could have foreseen she would orchestrate this outcome.” Bastien said. 

“We have to take them down and restore Liams rightful place as King. We can not let them get away with what they have done to Liam. What do you know about Leo and Celeste?” Drake asked. He was trying to figure out how to approach Liam when we woke up. He knew whatever Liam had gone through was extreme and he didn’t know who Liam would be when he woke up. 

“Celeste was part of the plan the whole time. I don’t know how deep her loyalty to the King and Queen run. But it’s evident she won't be in support of Liam. And Leo will be no help. He’s become a paranoid recluse inside Fydelia Psychiatric Hospital.” 

“I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed to help Liam. I had no idea. FUCK!” Drake screamed. He slammed his fist through the wall of the living room of the presidential suite. 

“We need to talk to Liam. Find out what he knows. Then we will proceed with a course of action. We follow Liams lead on this Drake.” Bastien’s eyes meet Drakes and he gives him a sad half smile. 

Twelve hours later Liam woke. Best sleep I’ve had in a month. Maybe that’s due to the sleep aides. I need to talk to Bastien and Drake. Have they spoken to Liv yet? Liam thought to himself. Liam slowly got out of bed wincing in pain from the broken ribs. His feet are bandaged from the cuts Regina had given him. 

“Liam?” 

Liam whipped his around and spotted Drake. He was just waking up from the couch in Liam's room. “Drake, we need to get back home. Have you spoken to Olivia?” “Yea, Li she’s okay. She told me what Constantine did. She prefers to stay in Lythikos but will come here if we need her. We are heading back tomorrow but first we have to figure things out.” Bastien came in with a huge breakfast spread. “Your Majesty,” he bowed. “It’s good to see you awake and feeling better. You’ll need your strength so eat.” “Bastien,” Liam nodded his head, “I want to thank you for helping me and not betraying the crown. The traitors will be dealt with. I will see it to myself.” Liam said no emotion behind. Bastien noticed a change in the young prince. The spark of life seemingly snuffed out. 

A couple hours later everyone chatted and got ready for the day, Drake eyes Liam staring at his phone. “What’s up Li?” 

“When this is over I’m bringing Leo home. But not until it’s over. What Regina, Celeste, and Constantine did broke him and nearly broke me. Maybe they did break me. Celeste..and Madeline.. Leo probably thinks I had something to do with it. I should have known.” Liam drifted off. “Madeline? What happened Li?” 

He told Drake everything. Drake hung his head in sadness for his friend. Liam whispered. “In the name of the crown, in the name of an heir. Regina tortured me. I will kill them all. Constantine did nothing. When you came in that was the first time…”Liam choked, “that he came in. To offer me and Leo Valtoria in exchange for my abdication and silence.” “I will kill them all.” Liam whispered. Drake sat unable to speak. Not sure what to say, what could he say? His best friend was gone. They had stolen pieces of him. Drake could see the parts that were missing. 

“I’m so sorry Li, I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed. Had I known….” Drake trailed off. 

“Stop Drake. It’s not your fault. I will take my crown and will show no mercy on anyone standing in my way.” 

“We’re heading back tomorrow, what’s the plan?” 

“Constantine is dead. The mourning period will last a month or so. I will take my rightful place. As soon as we’re back I want them brought before me.” Liam demanded. 

The next afternoon they landed in Cordonia. The press was waiting at the tarmac ready to scream questions about the King's death and Liam’s coronation. As they made their way back to the Palace to prepare for tonight’s coronation, Drake was on the phone with the rest of the Kings Guard. “Li, they’ve all fled the country. They are in England, Duke Godfrey’s duchy to be exact.” 

“Leave them. I will deal with them when they return. I do not want formal charges brought and I will need to do that to have them extradited. This is personal.” Liam sneered. Drake sensed a venomous tone. “Celeste and the… heir, if there is a child to speak of, will not be harmed until I find out if she’s pregnant.” 

They knew Liam re-emerging was the end of their sinister plan for him. The coronation went off without a hitch. His Majesty, King William Constantine Rhys was crowned King of all Cordonia. 

“Long Live the King” 

8 months later 

“It’s a boy, your majesty” the doctor spoke to the King. “He may suffer..” the doctor continued. “STOP” Liam shouted. “I don’t want to know. The child is not the heir and whatever affliction he suffers will be properly taken care of. The child will have the best medical attention. You will see to that Doctor. And Bastien?” 

“Your Majesty?” Bastien bowed and walked into the King's study, eyeing the doctor seated in front of Liams desk. 

“Hire a staff to care for the boy, we have designated quarters for him in the palace. Celeste may stay with the boy while he is nursing. Armed guards are to be with her around the clock. Regina is not to be anywhere near the child. I am this child’s father. Unwillingly albeit but not matter. He will not ascend the throne and I will have papers drawn up immediately binding his future. He is ward of the Crown.” Liam dismissed Bastien and the doctor. 

.

.

.

Six years had gone by. Liam became fond of the child. The child was the best kept secret in the palace. Celeste had remained living with the young boy in his quarters in the South Wing of the palace. She and Liam avoided each other. Liam fought the urge to wrap his hand around her throat and squeeze the life out of her every time he saw her. Leo was back living at the palace. He wasn’t the Leo Liam remembered. But he was getting better. 

Regina and Madeline had remained with Godfrey in England. Madeline was heartbroken when she was not the one to conceive Liam’s child. 

.

.

.

“Ready to go back to New York Li? I’m ready to partaayy before you get locked down for life? You’ll have to give up all the ladies you’ve been getting!” Maxwell squealed as they boarded the jet to Cordonia. One last hurrah before the social season began. 

Six years. Six years of fighting this hunger inside me. Maybe this trip I will give in. Maybe I can finally feel. He tried to satiate his needs with meaningless sex with hundreds of meaningless women. With these women he couldn’t let himself fully go. He had to control his need to rip the silky flesh from their bones every time they climaxed on him. Even multiple women at a time couldn’t bring him satisfaction. He needed a release. Six years of no release, it was becoming unbearable. Willing women weren’t enough. He needed to hear her scream. Her need for him. He needed to smell the coppery scent of her blood covering him. I can hear the demons inside, they’re telling me to let them out. They deserve to feel too. 

“I’m sorry I’m late, miss?….” 

“Riley. Riley Brooks.” 

Who is this beautiful blue eyed American? His cock twitched as he stared deep into the empty abyss of her eyes. Her eyes were identical to his. In that moment they both knew they would never let each other go. 

She would be his release. He would be her escape.

[frumfrumfroo]

I wrote a thing (Leia and Ben reunion angst)

.

Lamentations

Leia Organa hadn't really planned on getting old.

Not that she’d particularly expected to die young, either. The possibility (even probability) was certainly very real considering her tireless campaign to put herself in the thick of imminent danger, but logical reasoning about the likely outcome was never any match for her ambitions in life. Sheer bravado and the arrogance of youth had always been more than adequate to the task of pushing the reality of death from her mind. Even when fear or doubt got a grip, she had taken for granted that her rude good health and unshakeable self-assurance would continue in perpetuity as long as she managed to survive.

She hadn’t counted on a day dawning when she could no longer take matters into her own hands if need be. When tenacity might not be enough.

Now, hobbling down a corridor with the cane she hated but couldn’t yet do without no matter what her pride said, finding it slightly hard to catch her breath, she felt the years like anchors on every limb. She felt the weight of her choices pressing her shoulders down from their habitual imperious uprightness into an aged stoop. 

She was on her way to meet her own son for the first time as a grown man and the harm she had done him, her failures as a mother, trailed her like a colossal shadow. She sensed the cold presence of the past looming over her, its encroaching guilt nipping at her heels, and it made her feel more ancient than the deepest rivers of the Force. As if her bones were formed from brittle primordial rock, apt to shatter with a touch.

If Han were here he’d cut her down to size for thinking she was the one keeping the whole universe together, for trying to bear every burden, fight every good fight. He’d depreciate himself and distract her from her navel gazing, bounce her back into reality and remind her not everything depended on her. But small things did. Smaller things than she ever remembered to notice. He’d kiss her on the forehead and forgive her for her self-importance. Han had kept her human when single-minded, hotheaded determination threatened to turn her into some kind of overbearing political droid.

But he wasn’t here and never would be again.

When the girl, Rey, repeated her story of what had happened on Starkiller Base, this time after her sojourn on Ahch-to, and in much more detail than before… It was the first time Leia wondered if she ought to blame herself a lot more personally than she ever had, if it were her fears and hurts, her emotional retaining wall which created an opportunity for Snoke. Perhaps it wasn’t so inevitable, the enemy wasn’t so crafty, and she had simply abdicated her post as guardian. Every far-flung, bleeding heart responsibility she’d voluntarily taken on in her life- some she’d deliberately snatched out of other, more cautious hands- and she’d shunned the one which had the strongest, most natural claim on her. It was the one job she was worried she couldn’t do.

He’d been so small when she’d pulled his childish, clutching fingers away from the folds of her dress and pressed him firmly towards his uncle. He’d been only just as tall as her chest, gangly and skinny in the aftermath of his first growth spurt. His eyes had looked huge in his slim face, enormous and soulful pools of hazel gold and brown. Pleading. She remembered putting her hands on his shoulders and smoothing back his hair as she looked at him and tried not to notice the sheen of unshed tears, the trembling of his lower lip. She’d decided this was best for him and so she had turned a deaf ear to any potential entreaties, unwilling to be swayed from wisdom by sentiment. It had to be done. For his own good, she had to pretend this didn’t hurt. She couldn’t waver.

All her life she hadn’t had time for her sorrows, all her life she could ill-afford the luxury of indulging her feelings. When was it time? When had she fought for long enough?

When she won. That was always the answer. She’d rest, she’d have a life, when she had made a universe worth living in. When she’d made things right. What could be more important?

“There’s always some new crusade, though, isn’t there, sweetheart?”

Han’s voice, sharp on the endearment which he’d always used equally often in chastisement as in affection, laden with barely concealed hurt. She heard his pain, but she chose not to listen to it.

She’d thought there’d be time to make it up to him. She thought they would wait for her, her family, that her life would wait for her.

Her step faltered when she found herself standing outside the room in the med suite where Ben was recuperating. He was mobile now, his wounds were closed and his ribs were healing. He’d needed a lot of rest, more for mental and spiritual exhaustion than physical damage. He’d become a conduit in the Force the like of which was only heard of in legend and there had been some question if he would survive. She’d kept abreast of his condition since she’d been told of his arrival three days ago; he’d been in her every thought and breath and prayer, but she couldn’t visit. There was too much to do, too many people to oversee and decisions to make. She had plenty of excuses to keep avoiding the reckoning. 

Reportedly Rey hadn’t left his bedside once, never further from him than the fresher in the corner of the room. Poe said she was like a wild animal with a cub, hovering protectively over his prone body and questioning anyone who wanted to get near him. She’d maintained a death grip on his hand which only loosened slightly when she fell asleep in her chair at his side. Her own injuries were tended by a droid, under protest and without anaesthetic.

Leia leaned against the corridor wall and tried for what felt like the latest in several trillion attempts to come to terms with what Rey had told her about Luke. About Ben.

And she knew she deserved to blame herself. She knew. If he’d thought he could come home, he would have, and who had made him think he couldn’t? Han had fought for him and she’d have to tell him that no matter how painful it was to admit, she’d have to make sure he understood it wasn’t his father’s idea that Anakin’s blood flowed with latent corruption- not until she’d convinced him it did. Not until her secret festering fears clouded over the dawning love and hope they’d sacrificed so much to have.

The supreme necessity of forgiveness, of giving it and receiving it both, had become the hardest lesson she would ever learn. Her famously indomitable righteous anger had perished with a whimper, suffocated itself in weariness and despair; it was only fear that lived forever. It was fear which chained love, shackled hope, and bound the soul in darkness. And forgiveness drove out fear.

If Ben could forgive her, it seemed a mere pittance to forgive him.

When she rounded the corner the kids were silent but clearly communicating, the power of their connection like a subtle crackle in the Force which raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Rey was sitting on the edge of his cot, their heads very close together and her hands clasping both of his. Leia absorbed Rey’s mood first because it didn’t hurt nearly so much to look at Rey. The smile on her lips and the contentment in her eyes spoke of a peace the girl had never shown before. There was a confidence about her now, a knowingness. Leia had sensed she was searching for something from the moment she’d first seen her, noticed the void she was trying to fill. Leia had an eye for pressure points in people. She’d made use of Rey’s in hope that it would help her reach Luke. There might be an apology owed in that quarter too, but all thoughts of Rey vanished when Ben noticed her presence.

His head turned towards her and his face froze in an expression between horror and anguish, his pleading eyes just as she remembered them. He had a lot of his father in him, so much that it was striking, and a stab of agony lodged itself between her ribs that felt like her heart being pierced. But there was also so much of her in those eyes, in the slope of his jaw and the shape of his chin that she almost felt as if she were looking into a kaleidoscope reflection of her younger self. The certain, unshakable self she still half expected to see in the mirror before she turned on the vanity lights. He was a perfect marriage of her features and Han’s, with his broad cheekbones and regal profile, his full mouth and deep set eyes. 

It was probably because he seemed in that moment somehow both a mirror and the spitting image of her husband that it was the shame which hit her first. She couldn’t help but spin around and cover her mouth to try to swallow a cry.

There was a tiny gasping noise from behind her and then Rey’s voice murmuring something. She couldn’t focus on the words, couldn’t understand what was being said, but she knew the sound of pain was from Ben. He thought she couldn’t bear to look at him.

And she couldn’t, but not for the reasons he must be imagining.

She gathered her dignity and forced herself to look again. He was clutching his blankets where they pooled at his waist, his long black hair falling in soft waves which framed the drawn pallor of his face very starkly. He looked ill and frightened. Vulnerable, a child again.

“Ben,” she choked out. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, my darling boy. I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t know how long she’d been weeping into her hands when someone began to gently pry them away from her face, but her cheeks were wet and her eyes stung. She raised her gaze only to be confronted with a wide expanse of chest covered in the soft, oversized hospital smock which was standard issue for checked-in patients. She looked up, and up, and up to meet his eyes and couldn’t remember ever feeling so small in her life. 

Leia was a short woman and used to fighting to get the world on her level, but this was her baby. She’d carried him in her belly, held him in her hands, she’d last seen him when she still had to crouch to speak to him eye to eye. His once little fingers now dwarfed her entire arm where he was holding her wrist and he towered over her to such an extent that the top of her head barely reached the middle of his sternum. Her baby was grown up and she hadn’t seen him in person since he was ten. Since their heights had been the inverse of this tableau. He’d become a man and she’d been there for none of it. She’d chosen not to be.

Ben was leaning down, studying her with trepidatious concern, and she couldn’t help but reach up and touch his face. She put his hair behind his ear and cradled his cheek in her palm, feeling the living warmth of his skin and the tickling sensation of a hot tear which rolled down from the corner of his eye and under her thumb.

“Look how beautiful you are,” she said, almost without meaning to.

He ducked towards her hand, hiding behind his hair.

She wrapped her arms around him and he folded into her, dropping nearly to his knees so he could hug her back, so tightly that it almost hurt. He was very strong, the harsh conditioning of a footsoldier obvious in the broad muscles of his back beneath her hands, and it hurt to think how badly he must have needed to be, how much he’d needed to rely on himself and his ability to fight. How he’d never been safe anywhere from the moment he was born.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. He sobbed hard into her shoulder, as if the words had broken a dam inside him. Deep, wracking sobs that shook his whole body and made her hold him as close as she could and whisper to him the way she had when he was a fussing infant, when the nightmares she never dared to tell her brother about had gripped him in their malingering claws. When the fear of darkness which ended up swallowing their little family encroached too close. “Shhsh, shhsh, it’s all right now.”

His voice cracked when he finally managed to tell her, “It’s me- I'm sorry; it’s me, it’s me, it’s me. How can you stand it, how can you stand it?”

Leia suddenly found herself meeting Rey’s penetrating gaze over his head. If there was judgement there, it was less harsh than it justly could have been.

“I should have protected you. I didn’t protect you.”

“Mother,” he croaked with enormous difficulty, “I killed him.”

Her stomach rolled over and her vision blurred with fresh tears, but she held him with her, gripping the fabric of his shirt with white-knuckle intensity. “He loved you. I love you. I’m so sorry.”

His face collapsed like wet linen and he slid to the floor at her feet, burying his head in her skirts. There was a mantra of apologies and self-recriminations amongst the desperate sobs and she lowered a shaking hand to stroke his hair. 

“Ben, don’t. Please. Please don’t. Your father knew, he understood.”

Red eyes peeked up at her, his chin was trembling and those same fingers were clutching her skirts again and she wished she could go back to that day and tell herself her child needed her more than the galactic senate ever would. He needed honesty, his mother and his family, not a comfortable lie, a Jedi master or a carefully constrained destiny. She wished she’d seen him as clearly then as she did now, that she hadn’t been too afraid to look. She wished Han could be here to celebrate beating the odds one last time.

“If he could, he’d tell you this was the fairest trade he ever made.”

[jaskierswolf]

The Viscount and The Witcher pt.3/4

(Note: Reposted from my old blog. The rest can be found on my Ao3 or on my pinned masterlist)

Geralt visited the Lettenhove Estate on a regular basis after that fateful day. He hadn’t intended to. He’d intended to forget all about Viscount Julian and Dandelion the bard, but the man had wormed his way into Geralt’s head, like poison in his veins. Dandelion, Julian just didn’t suit him, wrote him letters every time Geralt found himself in the area and Geralt gritted his teeth and mounted Roach every single damned time. The first time he’d ridden in the opposite direction for about ten minutes before he’d noticed a patch on cornflowers at the side of the road. He’d sworn and turned Roach around to help clear an arachnomorph infestation from the kitchen.

The monstrous spiders had turned out to be just normal house spiders, big ones but still easy to squish under one’s boot. Dandelion had whimpered about spiders being scary and had practically jumped into Geralt’s arms when one had started to crawl up his leg. Geralt had rolled his eyes but allowed the Viscount to cling to him. He didn’t stink of fear despite his act of jumpy cowardliness but Geralt didn’t call him out on it. He was rather amused by the whole scenario and he left the castle with a purse filled with coin, not a bad reward for killing some spiders.

The next claim was a bruxa in the wine cellar. The bruxa had been a friend of Dandelion’s, stark naked with dark hair tumbling down in front of her breasts. Geralt had taken one look at her tanned skin and turned back out of the wine cellar, Dandelion babbling excuses after him.

After that had been a werewolf in the shed which had turned out to be a large dog.

Then a harpy nest on the roof which was just chicken eggs in a bundle of straw.

Each time Dandelion would follow Geralt around like a sad lost puppy. He would insist on feeding Geralt, or ordering him a bath if he was looking too travel worn. Geralt grew used to having the blond’s vibrant blue eyes watching him as he undressed, he enjoyed the casual touches to his arms and chest. Dandelion didn’t even seem to realise he was doing it. Every time that Geralt was close, those soft gentle hands would reach out, brushing a strand of hair from his face, or squeezing his arm, or stroking across his shoulder as they passed each other.

Geralt had even begun to call the man his friend, in the privacy of his own mind.

Dandelion had now claimed that a dragon was terrorising a local farm. Geralt didn’t even hunt dragons and yet he still found himself galloping off to meet Dandelion at his estate. He didn’t think too much into it. He told himself that if he didn’t go then it would inevitably be the one time that Dandelion was telling the truth.

The wannabe troubadour was standing by the entrance to the manor as he galloped up the path to the house. He dismounted from Roach whilst she was still slowing to a walk and landed on the ground with ease. Roach whinnied and trotted around the front of the house towards the stables, she’d been here enough time by now that she’d learnt where the best hay was.

“Geralt!” Dandelion greeted with a charming smile. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

Dandelion flung his arms around Geralt’s neck. Geralt grunted but returned the hug, enjoying the soothing scent of lavender that always hung to the Viscount. He resisted burying his nose in the crook of Dandelion’s neck, that was too much temptation. How would he restrain himself from peppering the soft skin with kisses, from leaving dark bruising marks beneath the soft blond curls that tickled his jaw?

Instead, Geralt pushed the Viscount away and scowled at him.

“A dragon?” Geralt asked with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Really?”

Dandelion flushed prettily under his cobolt blue hat. It was a striking colour on the Viscount that made his eyes shine and sparkle against his skin. Geralt’s throat went dry as he allowed his gaze to drink in the sight of the blond. Dandelion preened under the attention like a fancy peacock.

He was truly a sight to behold.

“Well.” Dandelion sulked. “It might have been a forktail?”

“In other words a goat with wings stuck to it.” Geralt surmised.

Dandelion gasped and placed a hand on his heart. He stumbled backwards slightly and his hat almost fell from his head. “Geralt” He whined. “At least ride out to the village with me, my dear witcher.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Roach is tired. We rode hard to get here. Dragons are dangerous beasts.”

Roach was fine.

He’d only been in the next town over.  He wasn’t even sure why he’d said it.

“Oh of course.” Dandelion beamed at him and put a hand on his hips. His tongue flicked out and brushed his lower lip. He had a habit of doing that and it drove Geralt mad. “Well you are more than welcome to rest here for a while. Food? A glass of wine perhaps? Or maybe some company?” Dandelion practically purred.

“Food would be good.” Geralt agreed, his stomach rumbling as if it had heard the Viscount’s words.

Dandelion pouted but ushered Geralt into the house. “It’s too early for dinner but Hanna won’t mind if we raid the kitchens. Come Geralt.”

The kitchen was warm, just like at Kaer Morhen, and the aroma of freshly baked bread and sweet buns filled the room. Geralt hummed contently. There was something incredibly grounding about the smell of freshly baked bread. Dandelion flitted around the kitchen with ease, searching the cupboards for some plates.

“I haven’t done this since I was a child.” He admitted, smiling brighter than the sun. “Hanna used to smack me over the bottom if she caught me stealing sweet buns.”

Geralt chuckled. “Well I’m not doing that so get it out of your head.”

Dandelion’s heart raced in his chest. “Geralt!”

“Dandelion?” He smirked.

“You bloody tease.” The Viscount muttered under his breath and carried on his search around the kitchen.

Eventually there were two plates pile high with pork pies, cheese, and honey covered rolls. Geralt moaned as he bit into the first pork pie. It was delicious. The Viscount’s cook was clearly a very talented woman.

Dandelion’s face was colour of roses and he nibbled his own plate of food. After a few minutes of eating in silence Dandelion sighed dramatically and swept his hat from off his head. “Gosh it’s hot in here!”

He fanned himself with his hat before abandoning it in favour of undoing the buttons on his doublet. Geralt watched, entranced by the Viscount’s fingers as they nimbly made light work of the buttons.

He swallowed and frowned before shaking his head.

“So the dragon?” He asked through mouthful of pastry. “What type?”

Dandelion’s melodic laughter filled the room and Geralt’s heart. “Why a golden dragon of course!” He announced with a wave of his hand.

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Dandelion!” He snapped.

“What?” The Viscount whined.

“Golden dragons don’t exist. They are just a myth.” Geralt growled.

“Oh.” Dandelion stuck his tongue out as he thought. “Could have been a red dragon?”

It turned out that the ‘dragon’ was a horse… with wings created out of old doublets and sticks. One of the villages was riding the horse with a torch burning in his hand and yelling at anyone who came near the stables.

Geralt threw Dandelion an exasperated look. The Viscount just pouted at him and fluttered his eyelashes.

“Well it’s not my fault there haven’t been any real monsters recently.” Dandelion’s hand lingered on his arm.

The setting sunlight hit the blond curls on top of Dandelion’s head. Geralt tilted his head as he gazed at his friend. He gently removed the Viscount’s blue bonnet and tucked it under his arm, then he captured a lock of blond hair in his fingers, just liked he’d seen the viscount do on many occasions. It was just as soft as he’d imagined, the curls springing back into place once he released them.

Dandelion was staring at him openmouthed, blue eyes shimmering in the light of the setting sun. “Geralt?”

“Hmm?”

The Viscount’s heart was thundering in his chest, his sweet lavender scent grew only sweeter under Geralt’s touch. “What are you doing, my dear?”

Geralt blinked at the question and pulled his hand away.

“There’s no dragon.” He replied sternly. “Farewell, Dandelion.”

Dandelion sighed forlornly. “Farewell, my darling.”

____________

Dandelion was slowly going crazy stuck in his old castle. It had been three years since he’d first met Geralt. Over the last three years he’d played his part perfectly. He summoned the witcher at least once a year with cries for help and pretend monsters. Geralt rode out to meet him every single time. Dandelion was sure that Geralt knew his monsters were fake, that was part of the game, and yet every time Geralt insisted on focussing on his hunt and ignoring Dandelion’s propositions.

Well, not ignoring them entirely.

Dandelion didn’t miss the way the witcher looked at him like he was the sweetest chocolate to be unwrapped, amber eyes dark with hunger and lust.

And yet the damned surly witcher had never acted on it.

Dandelion had practically thrown himself into the witcher’s lap, begged him to take him away on one of his adventures, pleaded with him to allow Dandelion to be more. He needed more, more than this house, more than this life.

Geralt’s fiery eyes and silver hair haunted his dreams. Dandelion had woken up many a time with Geralt’s name falling from his lips, false memories and Geralt’s gruff voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

His choice in lovers had shifted since meeting the witcher. He found himself drawn more to well built men over pretty maidens with perky bottoms and luscious golden locks. There was just this itch that he couldn’t scratch, no matter who he bedded. He was pretty sure it had something to do with the way his heart skipped a beat every time Geralt galloped up to the house on Roach.

He hit his head on his desk and moaned.

“My Lord Viscount. What you are asking is preposterous!” His lawyer gasped, dumbfounded.

“Kings and Queens can abdicate.” Dandelion answered firmly. “I have had enough!”

“There is no coming back from this Viscount Julian.” The lawyer countered. “If you regret it—”

“I won’t fucking regret it!” Dandelion insisted. “There must be some cousin or other distant relative.”

“You’ll lose everything.”

Dandelion hit the desk with his fist. “I simply don’t care!”

“Viscount Julian. I beg you, please reconsider.”

Dandelion glared fiercely at the other man. “I should have run away when I had the chance. I was going to you know. I had clothes stuffed into my lute case and ready to go, but I didn’t. You’ve had me trapped here for thirteen years but no more! I’m more than this, this place.” He threw his hands up and gestured at the study.

But the fool still wasn’t listening. Dandelion stood up and declared the meeting over. He was going to get his lute and leave.

It was time.

He could follow Geralt’s trace on the path.

He could track him down and they could travel together. Maybe he’d actually see a real monster for once.

That was if Geralt even let him come with him. He hoped he would. The witcher did always come when he called for him. That had to mean something, but if it meant something then why did he always push Dandelion’s affections away like he’d been burned? Dandelion scoffed. It wasn’t as if he was repulsive, he was well aware of his good looks and he knew when someone was attracted to him. Maybe Geralt thought that Dandelion was just out for a good fuck. It may have started like that but after three years surely Geralt could see how much their little games meant to Dandelion? For someone that was observant, Geralt really could be an oblivious brute.

He sighed.

Maybe it was time to give up the games. He’d showed his hand over and over again. Geralt could have no doubt about Dandelion’s intentions. He was really quite in love with the witcher. He flirted, he danced, he preened, all to gain moments of the witcher’s attention. Seconds of pure torturous bliss when Geralt would smile dangerously and lavish Dandelion with flirtatious words that made him feel weak and wanton.

No.

It was the witcher’s turn now. Dandelion was done with wearing his heart on his sleeve for scraps of the witcher’s attention.

The witcher would come to him, wherever that may be.

“Viscount Julian! Wait!” The mousy man called him back. “A compromise, if you please.”

Dandelion cursed and turned back to face the man with his hands on his hips. “Go on.”

“Your cousin will take over the estate in your absence, but you will remain Viscount by title. You will need to return to the estate once a year, and you will need to stay here for a little while until your cousin arrives.”

Dandelion narrowed his eyes at the man and sighed. Spring was just around the corner. He could enjoy the warmth of his house until then. There was no point freezing to death just to be spiteful. “Two weeks. No more.”

He turned his back with a toss of his hair and practically skipped out of the room.

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Her Majesty. || 7

If You’re A Bird, I’m a Bird.

♔♔♔

I’ve been in and out of sleep for a few hours, my mind is unable to cease thinking about what my mother has said, and I’m still under the weather. I thought I was doing fine but this summer cold is proving to be a pain in my ass. 

I feel Anna’s body move between the sheets and I feel her begin to move with more energy. 

“Anna?” My voice is hoarse while I cock my head to the side to gaze at her. 

She’s still asleep. 

I watch her settle in her sleep and I adjust the sheet over her shoulders before I get comfortable and fall back to dozing in and out of sleep. 

It’s an unexpected gasp, and shift in the bed that alerts me immediately. I open my eyes and notice Anna breathing heavily with her hand gripping the covers. “Hey,” I softly whisper, moving closer as she sits up. “Bad dream?” I question the only logical explanation for her sudden lack of breath and sudden jolts. 

Anastasia nods her head. I caress my hand to her back and rub soothing circles. I’m not quite sure what to do. I’ve never been with her when she has had any sort of bad dream. Whenever I have a bad dream, I usually roll back over and go to sleep, but I can see that she’s quite startled by her dream. “Harry…” Anna begins with a heavy breath, “Where’s Henry?” 

“I don’t know… Would you like me to get you some water?” 

“No… I want you to find Henry.” 

”I can’t, I’m a bodyguard, not a detective. Matthew is handling it. Has he gotten you all worked up again? He won’t find you. He’s harmless.” 

Anastasia shakes her head, “I don’t know about that.” Anastasia grimaces while she sits up a little further and takes in a deep breath. 

I lean over and turn my lamp on, the dim glow illuminating the room immediately and causing Anastasia to groan. “Here we go,” Anna mutters unhappily. I know this isn’t going to end pleasantly. She hates when I do this, but I can’t help it… I can’t act like I don’t care. 

“You’re in pain.” 

“And you’re under the weather. We are both avoiding the obvious.” 

“Christ sake,” I shake my head, tired and irritated with her. 

I know she hates when people fret over her, but it’s my job to do so, literally. Her life is in my hands at the moment, whether she likes it or not, I can’t just turn a blind eye. And as her boyfriend, I can’t go back to sleep knowing that she’s worried over a piece of shit Prince and hurting because she fell off a horse and doesn’t want to have doctors up her ass. “It’s either you tell me or I have to call your doctor. You parents were strict on this rule, and right now, I don’t want to piss the King off. He’s already pissed, and I don’t want to make it worse.” 

“Why is he pissed with you?” Anastasia questions, somewhat shifting the subject. 

The king is pissed off with everybody, he is taking his frustration out on all the staff, right now, he’s having his best go at the security team. Right now, Matthew and I are on the firing line. The king wants Henry’s location, but I’m here; I can’t do much. Matthew can only do so much in a few hours while also being in charge of other security staff. The king is taking his wrath out on everybody— yesterday it was the maids and housekeepers— today it is myself and Matthew— tomorrow it’ll probably be Anastasia again. 

I contemplate telling Anna the truth, I have to draw a line between work and our relationship.

There are some things I keep from her for her own sanity. “Your Dad is mad at the world, I’m trying to defuse situations. So, what’s the matter?” 

“I’m sorry… This whole Henry thing was my fault. It’s all escalating and snowballing.” 

“Anna, stop deflecting.” 

“My side hurts, nothing new.” 

“Can I take a look?” I softly challenge, wanting her permission. 

I know she despises when I have to do this, but right now I’m attempting to be her boyfriend. I genuinely care. It’s just a plus that my job has me trained for taking care of her. Anastasia rolls her eyes and lifts her pyjama top up, revealing the side of her body when she took the hardest hit. 

“Doctor wasn’t joking when she said you’d have bruising. Looks like you definitely have bruised ribs. Why must you be so stubborn?” 

“Same reason why you keep trying to cover the fact you’re unwell and still more worried about me. Please, don’t make a big deal of this.” 

“Anna—“ I begin but I stop myself, “Okay,” I sigh, “But if it gets worse, you’ll tell me?” 

“This isn’t a life or death situation. Let’s go back to sleep.” 

“If you insist.” 

“Can you really not find Henry? I feel uneasy about him.” 

“It’s not my field of work. Matthew is working on it. I know a PI and I’ll call him in the morning.” 

“Aren’t they expensive?” Anna questions and I can’t help but chuckle to myself. 

The woman who literally has no reason to worry about money or the cost of things is concerned a PI expensive but doesn’t seem to take into consideration that half the jewellery in her possession is worth thousands of dollars. 

“I’ll handle it and pay for it, stop worrying about things you don’t need to fret over. It’s my job to worry.” I respond. 

I kiss her cheek and move away from her, dismissing the conversation and settling back down into the bed. Anna doesn’t hesitate, instead, she shuffles closer and rests her hand on my chest as she gets comfortable. I stare up at the ceiling, listening to her breaths while I allow my mind to wander. 

I won’t hesitate to find everything I can about Henry. We should have done an intense search on him when he first came into the picture, but the King was adamant that he knew better and knew the family. Sometimes, the king isn’t always right. I should have listened to my gut instinct. Now, all I can do is keep an eye on Henry and keep Anastasia safe and sound. I don’t want her to worry about anything, and as much as I hate to admit things, Henry makes me uneasy as well. I don’t like how he seems to have gone off the deep end over something as small as losing a bet on a horse. It’s almost as though losing a bet and money triggered him to lose the plot. Perhaps, I’m overthinking things, but from the way Anastasia is acting and reacting, I think she feels the same way. 

For now, it’s my job to worry, not hers. I won’t hesitate to take her worries and pain, and I’ll do everything to keep her settled through chaotic storms. I can’t help but feel like the storm is just starting to brew and it’s about to get worse. 

♔♔♔

I find Anastasia relaxing in my mother’s garden, enclosed by the summer flowers that flaunt their beautiful colours even in the moonlight. 

I wander closer to her sitting figure, offering her a modest smile when she stares up at me. Unfortunately, she doesn’t give me her usual grin, instead, she offers me a fake smile that indicates she’s hiding something. 

“Been looking for you for a minute,” I begin, wanting her absolute attention. 

“Sorry,” Anastasia gazes away from my gaze, “Jus’ needed a minute.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

Anastasia grows withdrawn for a moment and I grasp the silence as a time to step closer and sit beside her. I caress a kiss to her cheek before I arrange my arm around her, “You know, whatever has you down won’t last forever. Things will be okay.” I decide to go with words of encouragement, mainly because I know that she is more than likely stressed over more things than I’m even aware of. I know she was working on a few royal duties this afternoon while it rained, I assumed she was responding to letters or keeping up to date on public, political, and cultural affairs. Her job never truly stops. 

Anastasia heavily laments before resting her head on my shoulder, “My father is losing the plot, Harry.” 

“How so?” I challenge. 

I have to admit, I’m not wholly surprised. He seems to have been on a steady decline since last year when word got around that he needed to pass down the crown. 

I have yet to figure out why he is determined to pass the crown down to Anastasia this year or early next year, nobody has heard of a thorough reason. The house staff have their own conspiracy theories, one being that he wants to leave the crown to Anna so that he doesn’t have to handle royal duties anymore. I don’t think that’s the case. I believe there would have to be a solid foundation for what he’s doing. After all, only one British monarch has ever willingly abdicated the throne, and the King wouldn’t make the second unless it were for a better reason than simply not wanting to do royal engagements. He won’t abdicate. He will likely give Anna the title of Princess Regent, putting her in charge of his official duties while he’d get to keep his title as His Majesty the King— of course, that’s if he wants his title. 

“My Dad is being a prick.” 

I chuckle modestly, “Sweetheart, that’s because he’s the King.” 

“That’s no excuse. Are you saying he has always been a prick?” 

I become withdrawn for a minute, debating my answer. “Well… kind of…” I nod my head, “It depends on the day. There’s a reason why the Palace staff don’t enjoy being on his service.” 

“Is that why you’re never on his service?” 

I don’t know how to answer Anna. It isn’t that I’m never on his service because he’s a prick, it’s more that I just don’t savour being on his service. He can be a very arduous man to keep a watch over. He tends to go against the books and plans on purpose. He doesn’t desire any of the staff listening to too many conversations and will deliberately strive to throw me off his whereabouts. I wouldn’t necessarily say he has secrets, but he definitely likes his privacy and isn’t a fan of me doing my job. “Matthew and I just agree not to have me with your Dad unless he requests me, which is rare.” 

“So, the staff don’t like him?” 

“I don’t think we should discuss this. He does have a say in my wage.” 

“I’ll ask my lady’s maid then,” Anastasia mumbles, “That’s of course if I haven’t been abolished from the monarchy by the time I get home.” 

“What? What happened?” I immediately challenge, uncertain of how she can be abolished from the monarchy. Although, it could work in our favour if it occurred. 

“The King has threatened to take away my title and to make sure I don’t become Queen.” 

As much as I desire to relish in the thought of Anastasia being stripped of her title and not under the thumb of the royal family and monarch, I know that she’s probably upset to hear her father threaten such things. 

“And I know I shouldn’t care and that I don’t really want to go through all this but at the same time… He is being an outright prick for no reason. This Henry situation isn’t my fault.” 

“First of all, sweetheart, the King has no legal authority to alter the succession to the throne. That would require an Act of Parliament,” I inform Anastasia, reminding her of what she already knows. 

“I told him that, he responded with ‘we will see about that.’” … “Henry seems to have my father in a rage.” 

“Is he threatening this because you won’t date Henry or just because he can’t fire palace staff?” I curiously ask, unaware of whether he’s serious or just taking his anger out on Anna since there’s nobody else. I haven’t heard anything from Matthew but I’m also somewhat off the clock, so Matthew won’t bother me unless it’s urgent. 

“I don’t know.” 

“And unless there’s a secret love child, you’re the only one who is eligible for the crown. He can’t do anything,” I continue to explain. 

As bitter as it is, no matter what, Anastasia has no choice but to take the crown. There’s no other heir, she’s the only child of the King and Queen. 

Even if she did want to abdicate for us to be together, where would that leave the monarchy? 

In the hands of a distant cousin or relative? 

Almost every living English citizen is somehow a descendant of an early monarch. 

“I don’t know, Harry. I think Parliament would decide to whom to offer the crown. But surely there has to be someone else in line, I don’t think I can do this. This is becoming a mind game, it’s driving my father insane and it’s stressing me out.” … “I wanted a nice weekend away from it all and it followed me. Are you sure you don’t want to run away together?” Anastasia asks me and for a brief moment, my mind wanders to the ring in my pocket that wants to make an appearance, but a proposal right now isn’t the right time. 

How can I ask her to marry me when she’s gradually going down the rabbit hole of self-destruction because of a monarch who relies on her when she isn’t even Queen. 

“Where would we run off to, my dear?” 

Anastasia lifts her head off my shoulder and stares at me with glossy eyes, “I’d go anywhere with you. Just say the word.” 

She is on the verge of tears and it breaks my heart.

“Well, you said after this Henry charade is over you wanted to come forward with the relationship…” 

“I’d rather run away. We could go to Greece?” Anastasia continues to look at me, wanting an answer. I can’t tell if she’s half-serious or not. “Let’s go to Skopelos.” 

“Anna, I don’t even know where that is.” 

“The small Greek island of Skopelos. Nobody would find us.” 

“You just want to run away without even being married? What would I do for a job? What will you do? The monarch won’t pay for us.” I’m trying to logically process what she’s saying. There’s a small part of me that wants to bring that ring out and propose but logically how could we pull this off? 

We can’t just run off together and fall off the grid. Her father would have everyone looking for her and would presumably kill me with his bare hands. 

“I’m sure there’s a small church somewhere. We could make it all work.”

“We’d need residency permits and a Greek tax-file number, running off to Greece is going to be just as hard.” I think my girlfriend has lost her marbles. 

Anastasia shakes her head, “Never mind,” Anna whispers, a tear managing to fall down her cheek.

“Hey,” I breathe out, pressing the pad of my thumb to the warmth of her cheek, “Don’t  cry, we will work it out, I promise.” 

“How can you promise me that?” 

If only she knew about the damn ring. Things would be different. 

“I just can,” I respond. Every part of me wants to propose right here, right now. But she deserves something better than a proposal while she is upset. She deserves something nicer than this. “I promise that things will be okay. You and I will work it out.” 

“What about the monarchy?” 

“All due respects, but fuck the monarchy. Right now, you are my priority, not everyone else. Darling, I will make things right, have faith in me.” I wipe a few more tears away from her cheeks and she grants me a small smile. “How about we go inside? Play some Scrabble? Watch a movie? Something?” I offer, gesturing towards the house. 

Anastasia nods, standing to her feet, waiting for me. I stand up and I take her hand before I gently lead her inside the house. 

It’s when I step inside my mother’s house and let go of Anna’s hand so she can make her way towards my mother, that I realise, there is a chance Anastaisa and I may not get the chance to have a small, ordinary house together. If we get married and she is the Queen, we would be living the high lifestyle, living in the Palaces. There would be no ordinary home that could use with some fixing up. We wouldn’t do mundane things. Life would be different, that’s for sure. 

Would we manage to live life together by the rules of the monarch? 

Would she manage to have the best of both worlds and balance a sense of normalcy?

♔♔♔

Anastasia’s POV.

The cool breeze from the ceiling fan taps against my skin and I nestle further into the delicate covers of the bed. I leisurely open my eyes, a dull ray of sunshine peeking through the curtains. I tilt my head to the side, Harry’s still fast asleep. It’s rare that I’m ever awake before him. He’s usually out of my bed by five in the morning when we are at the Palace, for obvious reasons. And even when he has no reason to hurry away, he still tends to be the first one awake. 

I know he’s exhausted, dealing with the palace isn’t the easiest of tasks and having to look after myself and anyone else isn’t easy. He’s constantly working without much of a break. He’s still under the weather, as much as he hates to admit it. It’s nothing major, but it is still enough for him to need the extra sleep. I’m not quite sure what time he came to bed last night. After a quick game of scrabble, we started a movie, unfortunately, after twenty minutes, his phone went off with a call and he excused himself. I can only assume Matthew was the one calling. Matthew has a knack for calling at the most inconvenient of times. I tried to wait up for him but by the time he got off the phone, I was already in bed. I’m not sure what happened after his quick kiss goodnight. 

The man that lies beside me, peacefully sleeping, is wholeheartedly the best thing to have walked into my life. I’m not sure where I went right to deserve him. To be honest, sometimes I don’t think I deserve him. Somehow, he never takes the easy way out, he stays. He has seen me at my best, he has seen me at my worst, and has yet to run for the hills. Most men by now would have thrown in the towel and found someone else. By the grace of God, Harry stays. 

I spend the early morning helping Harry’s Mum with the animals, giving them their morning feeds and making sure everybody has water before the day gets too hot. I don’t assume I was much help, but I did try. 

I wander into the bedroom just as Harry is placing the last pillow on the bed, he turns to glance at me and raises a brow, “What happened to you?” He gestures up and down, taking note of my mud-covered jeans and grass-stained t-shirt. “Please tell me you didn’t take a fall.” 

I shake my head, “Did you know horses like to nibble on clothes? I didn’t…. Also, the goats… uh… they’re not charming at their morning feeds.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, just a bit of mud. The princess is fine, relax.” I inform him, with a nod. I understand he just cares, but he needs to relax, a little mud never hurt anyone. “I was wondering if we could leave the house? See where you’re from?” 

“I assume my mother put you up to this?” 

“She may have mentioned some nice places.” 

“Hmmmm, I don’t know, Anna.” Harry responds with uncertainty to his voice, “I just don’t know if it’s a good idea.” 

“We are in the middle of nowhere; what could possibly happen?” 

I am aware that anything could quite literally happen, it is me we are talking about, I do not have the best of luck with things. It would be my luck something out of the blue happens and pushes me into some sort of lockdown.

Harry rubs his temples and looks at me before dropping his hands to his side, “Let me have my coffee first and then we can figure something out, okay?” 

“You said we could be normal.” I remind him of the fact he specifically said I could be normal out here. I had it in my mind that we would be able to be more free, we could walk in and out of stores, go to parks, the beach or really anything.

Harry nods his head, “I know, let me have coffee and then we can decide on where to go, okay?” Harry presses a kiss to my forehead, “I love you.” 

“Do I get a say in this or are we still doing the whole Princess act thing?” I question with furrowed brows, irritated that the normal weekend I have been promised is consisting of my father pulling strings from the palace and Harry acting as though he’s still on duty and my bodyguard. 

Harry sighs. “Darling, please, just let me get some coffee… I promise we will leave the property today.” … “I am not trying to be a prick, I am not trying to be your security guard. I just… I just need coffee.” Harry continues to emphasize his need for coffee. 

I nod my head, dropping the subject as I turn on my heel and walk out of his bedroom. I decide to get a head start on getting him his coffee, it is the least I can do for him. I know he was up for most of the night working, and I know it probably isn’t easy being all the way up here while his security team is back home. I know there are a lot of things that could happen that probably runs through his head. I also know I am not always easy to deal with. 

I stand in front of his mother’s coffee machine, bewildered on how the contraption works. I tilt my head to the side, suddenly feeling like a privileged idiot; I have never had to make my own coffee before, nor do I even know how to. It is always poured for me or made for me. I place a cup under where I assume the coffee pours from and I hold my breath as I press one of the button in hopes that it brews coffee. I am out of my element. 

I hear chuckles from behind me and I turn around to see Harry smirking as he sits upon the stool at the counter. “Don’t mind me, just sitting, love,” Harry informs me, trying to hold back his chuckles. 

I bite my lip and heavily sigh, watching as the brewed coffee fills the coffee cup, but I don’t think he wants straight coffee. 

“At the risk of sounding like a privileged princess, Harry, I have never made coffee,” I begin with a soft voice, embarrassed as I look at him. 

He holds back his chuckles and nods his head, promptly removing himself from his position at the counter and walking around to me. “Sweetheart,” Harry begins, pressing a kiss to my forehead, “What are you trying to make?” 

“You a coffee… I just… Where does the milk go? What do all these buttons do? What happened to just having tea? Do people not just make a pot of coffee?” 

“Some of us need a little kick of caffeine in the morning. Some, not all. Here, to make a cappuccino you froth the milk like this,” Harry takes the stainless steel container holding the milk, showing me how to froth the milk like they do in coffee stores. 

“Why is this contraption a thing? Is this a normal thing?” 

Harry laughs, “For some, it is normal. The palace has one, your mother loves it. Convinced me to buy this one for my Mum.” Harry gestures towards the expresso machine as Harry works his magic. “Glad that you still live in the old times of no expresso machines.” 

“I thought they were only in coffee shops.” 

“You need to leave the palace more,” Harry comments, placing the stainless-steel container on the counter. “Here, you can pour the milk into the cop. Gonna have to teach you how I like my coffee,” Harry winks playfully, “Or, perhaps, we will leave it to me to make morning coffees,” Harry gently pokes fun at me. 

I roll my eyes at him and I pour the milk into his cup, quite proud of myself for not managing to make a mess of things.   

♔♔♔

The warm breeze whistles through my hair and the sound of the ocean crashing against the shore becomes music to my ears. It has been a while since I have had the opportunity to stand on the beach without a care in the world, and without having to look over my shoulder to make sure nobody is taking pictures. For the first time in quite a long time, I have a sense of being normal. The sand nestles between my toes, I take a deep breath of the salty air as I tilt my head to the side and glance over at Harry. 

A smile spreads across his pink lips and he stares at me with awe in his eyes. Lord, I’m one lucky girl to get to stare back at the man I’m entirely in love with. We may have our ups and downs, we might not have a conventional relationship, but there’s no other man I’d want to be with, there’s nobody else I’d want to be standing on a beach with. 

Harry takes my hand and we wander closer to the water’s edge until the tip of my toes finally hit the tepid water. I let out a heavy breath, more so relieved and belatedly, happy. “I’d give anything to be able to feel like this more.” 

“Feel like what?” Harry questions, guiding us to stroll along the water's edge. 

I grin to myself, taking note of the birds soaring high over the ocean, “Like a bird,” I chuckle to myself, well aware my description is not ordinary, then again, I’m not ordinary either, “Free and happy,” I respond. “There’s no restraints, no duties, no photographers, I could run into the ocean with my clothes on and nobody would give a damn,” I gladly smile. 

Harry smirks and lets go of my hand, “Well, go on.” Harry gestures towards the water, “By all means, darling, enter the water with your clothes on, be a bird.” 

I shake my head and gesture for him to join me as I step into the water, loving the way it feels to have the sand move under my feet and the water dance around my calves, “Harry, join me.” 

Harry shakes his head, “Not a chance in hell, love.” Harry chuckles, his hands in his pockets as he stands at the edge, the water barely missing his toes. 

“Do you think I could've been a bird?” 

“Oh, god. No. Don’t—“ 

“Say it! Say I'm a bird,” I insist, well aware of what I’m doing. 

Harry brings his bottom lip between his teeth and he glances around. 

“Anastasia, you, my darling, are bonkers.” 

“Say I’m a bird!” 

“That would mean admitting I’ve watched a romantic movie.” Harry shakes his head, watching me as I shrug my shoulders and walk further to the sandbar the tide has exposed. 

I spin around, allowing my dress to dance around me. I glance over my shoulder and see Harry shuffling closer, his hands still in his pockets. 

My feet dance at the edge of the sand bar, thoroughly relishing the freedom, “Tell me.” 

“Tell you, what?” Harry questions, stepping closer to me. 

“Quote my favourite movie.” 

Harry rolls his eyes playfully, “I’d never do such thing.” 

I gasp, stepping away from him with a laugh escaping my lips, “Darling,” Harry laughs, reaching out and wrapping his hand around my wrist, causing me to laugh louder as I playfully attempt to pull away from him. Harry tenderly tugs on me and forces me to face him, “If you’re a bird, I’m a bird,” Harry recites the line and I draw my hair away from my face, still giggling like a schoolgirl. I beam at Harry and he smiles back at me, his eyes bright and full of more love than I could ever imagine. “If you’re a bird, I’m a bird. Anastasia, I’ll be anything you need me to be, and I’ll go anywhere I need to go. I’d walk to the end of the earth if it meant being with you; I’ll do everything that it takes, I’ll fight any battle thrown at me, I’ll fight for you and for us. I’ll protect you, at all costs. Darling, I love you, and I honestly couldn’t imagine this life without you.” Harry’s sweet words take me by surprise. 

Harry clears his throat and bites his lip as he gets down on one knee. 

I stare at him, stunned. Is this— is this happening? 

“It won’t be easy, but I promise to love you through everything. Princess Anastasia Annette Leanor, Duchess of Edinburgh, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?” 

As the man I’m madly in love with opens the ring box, I can’t help but think about the fact that it would be MY honour to marry him. He is my knight in shining armour, in more ways than one. He’s everything to me. Perhaps, I haven’t always been gracious to him, nor have I always made things easy. The monarch doesn’t make things easy, but this isn’t the monarch's decision. This is mine. For the first time in a long time, I feel free, and for the first time in a long time, I’m going against all traditions and rules; I’m going against the monarch. 

“Yes… Of course. Yes. Harry.” I can’t contain my excitement; how could I ever say no to a proper proposal? 

Harry slides the ring on my finger and for the first time in forever, everything is perfectly right in the world. Before I can blink, I’m wrapped in his arms and he’s spinning me around, “I love you,” he whispers, bringing me to a stop and placing me down. 

“I love you,” I whisper, gazing at him like he has hung the stars in the sky and moved all the oceans just for me. I lean up and kiss him, slowly and sweetly— nothing else in the world matters. 

[swanqueeneverafter]

Sins of the Past Pt.14

Camelot. Courtyard. (Finally arriving back at the castle, Lancelot leads the knights into the courtyard where Morgana has been addressing the people.) Morgana: (Directly to Lancelot:) "As your Queen, I expect your allegiance and devotion." Lancelot: (Dismounting his horse:) "Is that right? Well it just so happens that there is but one Queen that we recognise. Long live Queen Quinevere!" Knights: "Long live Queen Guinevere!" Morgana: (Coldly:) "I will give you one more chance to pledge your allegiance to me." Lancelot: "Long live Queen Guinevere!" Knights: "Long live Queen Guinevere!" (To Morgana's dismay, several of the villagers and courtiers begin to chant along with the knights.) Morgause: (Stepping in:) "Perhaps this will help you change your mind." (Morgause raises her hand and several soldiers raise their crossbows.) Lancelot: (Defiantly:) "Long live Queen Guinevere! (Using her powers, Morgause forces the soldiers to turn and point their crossbows at the unarmed villagers:) No!" (Before the men can shoot however, a battle cry is heard as Xena and Gabrielle arrive. Hurling her chakram, Xena disables the crossbows while flipping in mid air and catching the weapon upon its return.) Gabrielle: (Seeing the glint return to Xena's eyes:) "I guess I don't need to ask if you're ready to fight." Xena: (Drawing her sword and twirling it:) "Bring 'em on."

(A battle breaks out between the soldiers loyal to Morgana and the knights. Xena and Gabrielle evening up the odds for Lancelot's men. Somehow managing to remain unnoticed amongst the fighting, Merida raises her bow and points it towards the balcony. Knowing that she'll only get one shot, Merida is torn and unable to decide who to shoot before reinforcements arrive in the courtyard.) Morgana: "Take them to the dungeons! (To Morgause:) Have Lancelot brought to the throne room." Morgause: "Yes, Your Highness." (Morgana leaves the balcony while Morgause watches with a satisfied smile as the rebels are rounded up below.) Neverland. (Armed with her own bow and arrow, Tiger Lily leads Regina and Emma through the uneven terrain as they carry Maria between them.) Emma: "So you mean to tell me that since Pan left, magic has pretty much disappeared from Neverland?" Tiger Lily: "Mostly, yes. There are still pockets of magic scattered across the island, but not many." Regina: "Obviously Pan's hideaway is one of those pockets and once we're back inside it, we can poof ourselves back home." Emma: "Is that why you're still here? You were stranded once the magic left?" Tiger Lily: "No, mine is a self imposed exile. This existence, where I am far from the temptations of magic, suits me much better." Emma: "Is that because of what happened with Rumplestiltskin? Is that what drove you away?" Tiger Lily: (Shakes her head:) "Those events took place hundreds of years ago, Emma. I continued my duties as a fairy godmother to countless children after Rumplestiltskin." Regina: "So what caused you to give up that life?" Tiger Lily: (Stops walking and faces them:) "There was another child who’s fate was forever altered by my actions. A beautiful baby girl was born to the King and Queen of a powerful nation. All was well at first, until the day it was discovered that the girl held magical powers. The King had come to power at a time where the people were distrustful of magic. Indeed, it was the King who had ordered many people, including children, to be drowned if they were discovered to possess magic." Regina: "The Great Purge. You're talking about Uther Pendragon?" Tiger Lily: (Nodding, continues:) "Queen Ygraine begged me to save her child from that same fate. And so, under the cover of darkness, I smuggled the infant Morgause out of Camelot and gave her to the High Priestesses of the Old Religion to raise. Uther was told that the child had died and I swore an oath never to reveal my actions to anyone. After that, I left my life as a fairy behind me, determined never again to play a part in ruining another child's life." Emma: "You know, if she and Morgana hadn't just put a bounty on my head, I might've felt sorry for Morgause." Regina: (Looking behind them:) "Speaking of which, it seems we have a few bounty hunters on our tail." Tiger Lily: "Lost Boys. Quick, this way!" (Regina and Emma follow Tiger Lily while the hollering of the Lost Boys draws ever nearer.)

Arendelle. (With everyone now awake and the party cancelled, Elsa is pacing worriedly as she learns that Lily hasn’t been seen or heard from. Anna speaks to Hook and Rumplestiltskin who were called to aid in the search. Kristoff is casually holding onto a chair, attempting to remain calm.) Elsa: "So, no one has heard from Lily? There's been no sightings from anyone in the castle?" Kristoff: "Since you asked me ten seconds ago? Nope." Hook: “Something is definitely going on here. First my wife goes missing, now my daughter.” Anna: (Suddenly grabbing him by his shirt:) “All right, Mr. Pirate Man, think! Who have you messed with that would want to take their revenge on you by kidnapping Lily?!” Kristoff: (Helpfully:) “And Maleficent.” Anna: “Her too. (Shaking Hook:) Well?!” Elsa: “Anna! Release him this instant!” (With a growl, Anna releases Hook. Kristoff takes her hand and moves her away.) Hook: “It’s all right, love. I’ve been asking myself the same question since I got here. The truth is, I just don’t know who would want to do this.” Rumplestiltskin: “There is the possibility that this has nothing to do with revenge. We don’t even know if the two disappearances are connected. Maleficent could simply be spending sometime alone. Perhaps she’s in the Forbidden Fortress as we speak?” Anna: “Well, Lily has definitely been taken. She wouldn’t just get up and leave my sister’s birthday party. We’ve been working on it together for months!” Elsa: “I can't just sit here. I'm going after her.” Kristoff: “Go where? There are no tracks to follow.” Elsa: “That’s impossible. Lily can’t just have vanished.” Kristoff: (Sighs:) “I don’t suppose there’s any point in trying to stop you?” Elsa: “You can't. I'm the queen.” Rumplestiltskin: (Cutting in:) “Which is exactly why you need to stay in Arendelle. There has already been one Queen overthrown today. Until we know exactly what’s going on, we can’t rule out any possibility.” Elsa: “You think someone kidnapped Lily in an attempt to get me to abdicate?” (At that moment, a guard enters without knocking, clearly with important news.) Guard: "Your majesty. I apologize for barging in like this, but we have news from one of our scouts.” Elsa: (Hopeful:) “Have you found Lily?” Guard: “No. But they discovered something else in their search.” (He hands Elsa a leather wrapped piece of parchment. Elsa reads the report on the parchment.) Anna: “What does it say?” Elsa: “Lady Helen, or at least the real Lady Helen, was found dead in the outskirts of the forest.” Kristoff: “Well that's one less person to interrogate. Look, I know every inch of those mountains out there. Let me go and start the search for Lily.” Elsa: “No, you're not going anywhere. It's too dangerous. If Mr. Stiltskin’s right and Lily was taken because of me then the kidnappers would be only too happy to capture my brother in law too." Kristoff: “So I'll be real careful.” Elsa: “You're staying right here. As you said, I am the queen of Arendelle. So let me be the queen and handle it.”

A Cave. Location Unknown. (Much like Elsa, Lily is seen pacing. Unlike Elsa, Lily is confined to a cage. Grabbing the bars, she shakes them violently, screaming to be let out. Crouching down in the corner of her cell, Lily attempts to metamorphose into her dragon form.) Balinor: (Entering the cave carrying firewood:) "That won't work. (Lily opens her eyes and stares at the man:) That cage is designed to keep you contained in your current form." Lily: "Why am I here? What do you want with me?" Balinor: "That can wait. I was told you didn't get to eat anything at your fancy party. (Indicates the firewood:) So I'm fixing dinner." Lily: "I have powerful allies. Friends and family who will come looking for me. My mother-" Balinor: "We know about your mother." (They stare at each other, Balinor dropping his gaze first.) Lily: "What have you done with her?" Balinor: (Walks away:) "Don't worry yourself needlessly tonight, little one." Lily: "Where is she? Do you hear me? What have you done with her?!"  Wonderland. Grendel's House. (Still sitting on the kitchen floor and struggling with her bonds, Ella looks to Will who continues to stare at the images playing over and over within the knot.) Ella: “Will, let's get out of here. I can't find my mother if I'm dead. Forget the knot.” Will: “We've got to have it. Let me talk to him. Don't worry. I'm good with monsters.” Ella: “No. This is for me, and I say we find another way.” Will: “This is for me, too, and we're doing it. (Cheerily:) Excuse me, Mr. Grendel? That woman that you've been looking at, she's quite lovely.” Grendel: “Stop talking.” Will: “Do you know her? Does she have a name?” (The Grendel growls and stalks over to Will, raising his hand. Then, his attention caught by the images playing in the Forget-Me-Knot, The Grendel calms, watching.) Young Woman: “Tell it again, dear. I love that story.” Young Man: “I would gladly tell it to you-” Grendel: “Forever.” (The Grendel sighs as the young couple kiss.) Will: “She was yours, wasn't she? You loved her. (Grendel growls:) Losing someone you truly love, it can change you.” Grendel: “How do you know?” Will: “Because the way you look is how I felt. Believe me, I understand what you're going through.” Ella: (Whispers:) “Keep talking. It's working.” Will: “I say that the only way to move on is to leave the past behind ya. Looking through that knot, thinking about her, seeing her, remembering her. It hurts too much! You want to move on, you have to let go of the hurt. It's the only way.” Grendel: “I don't want to move on.” Will: “Sometimes you don't have a choice. It's for the best, mate. Trust me.” Grendel: “Silence! (He grabs an axe, pointing it at Will:) Dinner time.” (The Grendel walks over to the fireplace and adds another log to the flames.)

Storybrooke. Mayor's Office. (Snow White stands with her arms folded, clearly ready to argue.) Snow White: "Just admit it. You feel embarrassed about the jousting competition and you don't want to show your face at the camp site." David: "I am not embarrassed. Aladdin won fair and square. He got to his feet before I did. I have nothing to be ashamed of." Snow White: "No, of course not. Neither did Humpty Dumpty." David: (While Snow sniggers with laughter:) "Oh I see, you're enjoying this. All right, laugh it up. (Snow does, continuing to laugh:) I refuse to be embarrassed by something you're partially responsible for. (Snow continues to giggle, using her hands to mime David trying and failing to get back to his feet:) You know what? Fine. You want to hear an embarrassing story, how about this..." Storybrooke. Recent Past. Outside Swan-Mills House. (Emma waits outside for David to pick her up in the police cruiser when she receives a call.) Emma: "Hey, 'Gina, what's up?" Regina: "Oh, nothing, just missing you. We both are." Emma: (Smiles:) "Yeah? You guys still in bed?" Regina: "We sure are. Want to see?" Emma: (Looking around to make sure she's alone:) "I'd love that." Regina: "Hang on a sec." (Emma waits a moment, then receives a photo of Regina and baby Maria laying in bed together.) Emma: "Aw, you look so comfy, now I'm gonna miss you both even more." Regina: "I know, but we'll be right here waiting for you when you get home." Emma: (Smirks, looking back towards the house:) "You know technically I'm still at home." Regina: "Then come back to bed." Emma: (Sighs:) "You know I can't. They're short-handed at the station. (David pulls up alongside her:) David's here, I better go." Regina: "Hm. Well all right, but only if you call me that name I like. (Emma, seeing David stepping out of the car, mutters something unintelligible:) What was that? I couldn't hear you." Emma: (Louder:) "I said I love you, Smoopsie Poo." David: (Standing behind Emma:) "Damnit!" (Emma spins around to face her father, utterly mortified.) Regina: (Magically putting herself on speaker:) "I told you I could get her to say it." David: "Yeah, yeah you did." (David passes by Emma, walking to the front door and posts twenty dollars through the letterbox.) Emma: "Wait, you guys set me up?" (Emma receives another photo, this time of Regina with her tongue out and the caption: ‘Sorry, Snuggle Bunny.’) Regina: (Chuckling:) "Have a good day, Sheriff." (Regina hangs up.) Mayor's Office. Present. Snow White: (Having listened to David's story:) "Well sure, that's a little embarrassing, but you can bet Emma didn't just take that lying down. And that's all I'm saying, David. Yes, you were humiliated, but that doesn't mean you can just hide out here all day." David: (Putting his hands up:) "You're right, of course you're right. I'll see you tonight." (David leaves and Snow returns to her paperwork.)

Mayor's Office. Recent Past. (Stuck in a boring council meeting, Regina sits behind her desk reading through a stack of papers while Snow White makes her closing statement. Although used to tolerating her former step-daughter/current mother-in-law's long, rambling speeches, Regina isn't exactly thrilled to be forced to listen to one less than a week removed from the end of her maternity leave. After reading the same sentence for the third time and still not understanding it, Regina glances up to see Archie asking Snow a question that will undoubtedly prolong the meeting for at least another ten minutes. Resignedly, Regina returns her attention to her papers. After finally managing to read through the document, Regina places it face down on her desk before picking up another. The next document in question is actually a letter market 'urgent', written in familiar handwriting. Looking up once more to check it isn't time for her to speak, Regina slices open the letter and begins to read.)

Dear Mayor Swan-Mills,

Please can you help me as I have nowhere else to turn. It seems I have spent the whole day baking and yet have no one here to taste the 'forbidden fruits' of my labour. As you can see from the enclosed photograph, the kitchen really did become quite hot, but I managed to keep my apron on regardless.

Hoping you are well, Emma

P.S. Maria is asleep and if you're not home in five minutes, I'm starting without you. xxx

Regina: (Practically jumping to her feet:) "This meeting is adjourned." Archie: "But I was just-" Regina: "I said we are done here!" (The members of the council meeting begin to file out of the office while Regina starts stuffing papers frantically into her bag.) Snow White: (Concerned:) "Is everything all right?" Regina: (Distractedly:) "Hm? Oh, yes it's fine. I just have to leave, immediately. (As Snow continues to stare at her:) Really, it's nothing. Your daughter's laid out a lovely spread... (An explicit image flashes in her minds eye:) Er... I mean she's in heat. (Gasps:) I mean Emma's prepared something hot and I have to go and eat her. I mean the meal! Oh, whatever!" (As a flustered Regina disappears in a cloud of smoke, Snow shakes her head knowingly, not having been fooled for a second.)

Neverland. Present. (Still too far from Pan's Hideout, Regina, Emma and Tiger Lily decide to take a stand. Placing Maria's carrier on the ground, they turn to face the oncoming group of Lost Boys.) Lost Boy 1: "Over there!" Emma: "Listen, we don't want any trouble and clearly we're not going to fight you." Lost Boy 1: "There's only one thing we want from you." Regina: (Stepping forward:) "If you think I'm going to let a group of unwashed adolescents claim the bounty on my wife's head-" Lost Boy 1: "Bounty? What do we care about a bounty? We're here to make you pay for what happened to Pan." Storybrooke. Main Street. (Presumably headed towards the mines, Happy and Grumpy walk down the street with their pickaxes over their shoulders. At the sound of horses approaching, the dwarves turn to see three knights arrive on horseback.) Grumpy: (One of the knights dismounts and draws his sword:) "Didn't anyone ever teach you not to mess with a dwarf and his pickaxe?" (Grumpy swings and is quickly disarmed. Happy's axe is taken from him without a fight. Forced to their knees, the dwarves look up to see the third knight remove his helmet.) Third Knight: "Didn't anyone ever teach you to kneel before your betters? Now, tell me where Emma Swan is."

[nazariolahela]

Chapter 15: The Arrangement

Pairing: none

Word Count: 1884

Rating: PG-13

Description: The hunt for Tariq continues, and Hana struggles with pleasing her parents. 

Notes: Constructive criticism welcome. Thanks for reading.

Catch up here

Disclaimer: All TRR characters used belong to Pixelberry. This story is only for entertainment purposes.

Riley sat at a table inside Starbucks, sipping her Caramel Apple Spice drink as she scrolled through her social media. Her co-worker Mindy had texted her earlier this morning, asking to talk to her about the kiss at the club. The two women had been avoiding each other and it was beginning to take a toll on their work. Riley agreed to meet with her to hear her out. She figured this would prevent things from getting awkward at work. The coffee shop was abuzz with early morning commuters purchasing drinks and snacks in preparation for their workday. Riley briefly looked up from her phone to scan the establishment, in search of Mindy. A few minutes later, Mindy spotted Riley sitting and approached her cautiously.

“Hey Riley…” she said, trailing off. Riley looked up from her phone at Mindy and smiled lightly. Mindy took a seat across the table from her and sucked in a deep breath.

“So, let me start out by apologizing for my behavior the other night. It was out of line and I’m sorry for violating you. I hope this doesn’t affect our working relationship or our friendship any more than it already has. I won’t use my drinking as an excuse, but sometimes I get a little flirty when I drink, and I guess I misinterpreted your feelings for me. I promise that I will ask next time I try to kiss you.”

Riley nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate it. Just so you know, I do value our friendship. You were the first person who was nice to me, and you’ve really helped me find my footing in this job over the last few weeks. I’ve been having a really hard time since I’ve been back and your friendship is the only thing that has kept me going. I don’t want to lose that.”  

Mindy smiled and reached across the table, placing her hand on Riley’s. “I promise not to betray your trust. I really do value your friendship.”

The two women visibly relaxed and Mindy quickly changed the subject. “So, are you excited about the UN Gala coming up?”

Riley cocked an eyebrow at her. “Diana mentioned it, but she said I wasn’t ready to work it yet.”

Mindy drummed her fingers on the table. “Aww, that sucks. Maybe you can work it next year.”

“Have you worked it before? What’s it like?”

Mindy’s face lit up. “So, it’s this huge fundraiser they put on every year. All these celebs and rich people show up and donate money. I met Leonardo DiCaprio last year.” She pulled out her phone and flipped through her photos until she found the one. Riley took the phone and examined the photo. Mindy’s face beaming next to a well-dressed Leonardo DiCaprio. The face of another gentleman in the background, who looked oddly familiar, caught Riley’s eye.

“What about this other guy?” she asked, handing the phone back to Mindy.

Mindy took the phone, zooming in on the photo, as she tried to identify the other man. “Oh, him? I think he’s some foreign leader. Or used to be. He said something about abdicating his title recently. I didn’t really catch his name, but he was super flirty with all the female servers and I’m pretty sure he tried to slip me his number.”

The blonde hair and piercing blue eyes were a dead giveaway, and she couldn’t believe she didn’t figure it out right away. “Leo…” she whispered.

“Yeah! That was his name. Wait, do you know him?”

Riley looked down at her hands folded in her lap. “Kind of. He’s connected to someone from my past.” The last time she had seen Leo was the Coronation. The memories of that evening came flooding back to her and she had to fight back the tears that were starting to brim in her eyes. Riley shook the thoughts from her head, rose from her seat, and grabbed her purse. “I’ve got some errands to run, but thanks for meeting with me.”

“Yeah, no problem. Everything alright?” Mindy questioned.

“Y-Yeah. I gotta go. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” Riley replied and rushed out of the coffee shop. She clutched her purse to her chest, choking back tears as she hurried down the street back to her apartment.

***

The Royal court was on its way to Shanghai for the next stop on the Engagement Tour. Hana’s knee bounced nervously as she sat on the plane, watching the clouds pass by her window. Maxwell appeared and took the seat next to her. “Hey! You doing alright?!”

She nodded. “Yeah. I’m just nervous about seeing my parents. My dad is still hounding me about my marriage prospects. I don’t have the heart to tell him that I’m not interested in Lord Neville or Rashad.”

He reached across the seat and took her hand in his. “It’s going to be okay. You’re a beautiful, intelligent, strong woman. There are plenty of fish in the sea. Any guy would be lucky to wife you up,” he said as he winked and wiggled his eyebrows.

Hana giggled. “You always know how to cheer me up. Thanks, Max.”

“Glad to be of assistance. Don’t stress about it. There’s still time to find a suitable match. And, hey! If worst comes to worst, we could marry each other.”

Hana’s eyes grew wide. “What?! You’re kidding right?”

Maxwell shook his head.

“Are you sure about that? You’re serious about us getting married?”

He shrugged. “Why not? We’re best friends. We obviously care about each other. And I’m a pretty great catch.”

“But, Max. I don’t love you like that.”

“I know. It would be more a marriage of convenience. To get your parents off your back. And Bertrand off mine.”

Hana fiddled with the hem of her skirt. “Max. You know I adore you, but I can’t ask you to do that for me. You deserve to marry someone who loves you. Not because their parents want you to. What if you meet someone? Or I do?”

Maxwell chuckled. “Listen. We can figure out all the details when the time comes. But think about it.” He stood up and leaned in, pressing a light kiss to her forehead, and walked away.

A few seats away, Liam, Olivia, and Drake sat next to each other in hushed tones. Drake nursed the glass of whiskey in his left hand as he listened intently to Olivia and Liam discuss what they had learned from Bastien about the blackmail and Tariq’s whereabouts.

“I still can’t believe your father would do something so abhorrent,” Olivia scowled.

Liam ran his hand down his face, exhaling deeply. “I know. I’m still in shock. I can’t help but think about Lady Riley. If only she was here…”

“Has anyone been able to reach her?” Drake asked, topping off Liam’s drink.

“Last I heard, she had spoken with Maxwell a few weeks ago. Since then, it’s been radio silence. She hasn’t responded to mine or Hana’s text messages at all,” Liam replied despondently.

Olivia leaned over and rubbed soothing circles on his back. “She’s obviously still upset. I can’t say I blame her. But that’s just one more reason to get to the bottom of this blackmail situation.”

Liam nodded and polished off his drink. “I have some phone calls to make. If you’ll both excuse me,” He stood up, bowed to Drake and Olivia, and made his way to the private quarters of the plane.

Drake shook his head. “I’ve never seen him like this. He’s not doing so well. We need to find Tariq soon.”

“But even if we find him, what if we can’t convince Riley to come back to Cordonia?” Olivia replied.

“She’ll come back,” a voice answered behind them. They both turned to see Maxwell standing there, phone in hand. “She’s struggling with the blowback from the scandal. Once we get Tariq to make a statement and clear Riley’s name, she’ll have to come home.”

“How can you be so sure, Max?” Drake asked.

Maxwell sighed and took a seat. “She loves him. I’ve seen the way her eyes light up when she talks about him. Right now, she’s just waiting for everything to blow over so she can come home. She’s not happy in New York and she knows it. She just doesn’t want to admit it yet. Cordonia is her home.”

The three of them sat in silence as the plane began its descent into Shanghai.

***

After the tea ceremony, and the blowout with her father, Hana decided to go for a walk to clear her head. She walked for several blocks until she reached the Yu Garden. A young mother and her two small children emerged from the entrance to the garden, speaking excitedly about their visit. A small smile spread across Hana’s face as she recalled the memories of going there as a child with her mother. Hana searched her pockets for Yuan to pay the entrance fee but stopped when she remembered that she had left her purse behind. Reaching back into her pocket, she pulled out her phone and called Maxwell.

“Hey, Hana! Everything alright? Olivia said you left the tea ceremony upset.”

“Yeah. Can you send a car for me? I’m at Yu Garden and I forgot my purse.”

“Sure. I’m sending one for you now. Hang tight.”

Hana hung up the phone and sat on a nearby bench. She smiled as she watched the families entering and exiting the gardens. A father and daughter held hands as they smiled and walked past Hana, and she felt a pain in her chest. She didn’t understand why her parents insisted on marrying her off to a man she was not in love with. Or any man, for that matter. She wished that they’d just let her find her own partner and let her live her own life. She stared out across the pond and watched the dragonflies land and take off from the cattails. Finally, a black town car rolled up and the driver stepped out.

“Ms. Lee?”

She turned from the bench to see him standing near the back door. “Yes, that’s me.”

The driver nodded and opened the door, motioning for her to get in. She stood from the bench and swept her skirt off, then climbed inside. The driver shut the door behind her and rounded the car to the drivers’ side. Once inside, he steered the car back towards Hana’s hotel. She leaned her head against the window and watched the city whiz by.

When they arrived at the hotel, Hana made her way up to her room and crawled into bed without removing her clothes. She laid in bed for several minutes, staring at the ceiling, before a knock at her door caused her to sit up.

“Hana, it’s Maxwell. Are you in there?”

She pulled back the sheets and climbed out of bed. She opened the door and he pushed past her and took a seat on the desk chair.

“Have you talked to Riley lately?” he asked.

“No. Why?”

A Cheshire grin spread across his face. “Because the next stop on this tour is her stomping grounds.”

Hana’s jaw dropped. “You mean…?”

“That’s right. Pack your favorite baseball cap. We’re going to New York.”

[kondo-hijikata]

Pairings: Okita/Chizuru, Kondo/Hijikata, Kondo & Okita, Kondo & Chizuru Rating: T Summary: Before leaving for the battle of Koufu Castle, Kondo pays a visit to the house Okita and Chizuru are staying in to see their faces one last time. [AO3]

This story is just over 5k, so I’ve posted a little of the first part. If you’d like to keep reading, please head over to AO3. Thank you!

.*Where the Loyalty Lies*.

Kondo stood before a wooden gate, his chin tilted up and eyes searching jagged tree branches smattered with green leaves. The start of March was much too early for flowers to be in blossom, but he’d hoped to see them once more in Edo—hoped to see them here, at this small house with its tiny front garden. Fate would have it differently, however, and he was but a mortal bound to its whims.

He shook his head and stepped forward, the gate creaking when he pushed it aside. Ensuring it closed properly once through, Kondo turned at the sound of a small gasp, and his face warmed instantly.

“Yukimura-kun.”

Chizuru had clutched the open doorway and once she heard her name, pushed herself from it in a near bound over the threshold, her feet slipping into sandals and clopping against the circular stone path. “Kondo-san!”

Regarding her fondly, he lifted a light string-tried package and placed it in her hands. “You’re looking very well! It’s good to see you.”

“Mm!! Oh!” Her eyes fell shut and she bowed her head quickly, lifting the package in gratitude. “Thank you so much. You didn’t have to bring anything!”

Still kind as ever, wasn’t she?

“I thought I heard the gate, so I came to look and…” The thought left unfinished, Chizuru sighed and hugged the gift gently to her chest. “I’m so happy you’ve come to visit!”

Kondo nodded graciously. “You’ve really done me a great favor by staying here, Yukimura-kun.”

A vehement shake of the head followed, and a hum in the negative. “Not at all!”

“How is he?”

Chizuru swallowed, her features instantly growing serious at the inquiry. “Okita-san is sleeping right now, but his condition…” Brow furrowing further, she curled his lips in.

“It hasn’t changed.” Kondo’s shoulders lowered and his mouth set in a grim line. “I see.” Such an answer was to be expected, but having to hear it never got any easier.

“I’ve been making sure he eats as much as he can and rests.” She exhaled through her nose. “But still, sometimes he tries to train in the yard and it—” A pause. “It doesn’t usually end well.”

Kondo’s lashes fell in a soft huff, muttering sarcastically beneath his breath, “I wonder where he learned that stubbornness…”

“Kondo-san, please don’t misunderstand.” Spine straightening, Chizuru’s eyes grew determined. “Okita-san is very, very strong and I believe in him. I would never speak badly of him, but his body has certain limits now that his mind just can’t seem to obey. He often talks of rejoining you, and please know there’s nothing either of us would like more, but…”

A warm hand pressed to Chizuru’s shoulder before getting ahead of herself. “Understood, Yukimura-kun,” Kondo said gently. “Maybe if I talk to him?”

“I think it would be a great help.” She lowered her head again in respect for the favor. “Please.” When her face lifted, she gestured toward the small abode. “But for now, please come in. I’ll put some tea on.”

“I take it you’re still making the best tea in the country?”

Her cheeks flushed slightly and she merely shook her head, leading the short way up the walk. “How is your wound? And the others? Hijikata-san?”

At first, Kondo grinned at the barrage of questions. “My shoulder is healing well. As for Toshi, the ages change, but he doesn’t. And the others…” It was then that the smile’s luster faded and his expression fell somber. “It’s a very complicated time, Yukimura-kun. The war is coming to a pivotal point.”

A distant despondency was present in her voice. “I see…” Surely, there was more she’d wished to ask from the way her reply trailed off, but it seemed for now her tongue would be held.

When they reached the porch, each pivoted a half-circle to remove their shoes properly and stepped up. Chizuru officially welcomed Kondo into the home, and ever the one for polite tradition, he excused himself for interrupting her day.

“I’ll go and wake him—”

“Ah—” Kondo’s hand raised. “Please don’t. I’d rather he rest, and I have plenty of time. But I also don’t want to trouble you, so I won’t mind waiting outside.”

She breathed in sharply then. “Oh. A visit from you would never be a burden, Kondo-san. Please, let me show you to the sitting room. Okita-san would want you to be comfortable, and I certainly do too.”

Two pairs of socked feet padded down the hall and the inner shoji opened to a space filled with sunlight. A table and two zabuton cushions rested on the tatami, and Chizuru held a hand out for Kondo to sit. She carefully slid the outer doors open so they wouldn’t make too much noise along the track, and excused herself to brew the promised tea.

Alone, Kondo sat seiza before the table and looked around. The house was old and sparsely decorated, but Chizuru had done well keeping it clean and tidy. Hanging on the wall near a closet was the red flag of sincerity—the hallmark and banner of the Shinsengumi—and seeing it inspired a warmth to spread in Kondo’s chest.

Chizuru had been brought into all of their lives by some incidental whim, and quickly became one of them: a fellow servant to Tokugawa and a genuine friend to all. Now, as Kondo had spent the last days in deliberation at Edo Castle and the rest of his men lay in wait for official battle orders, she was still an invaluable help; without her, Okita would be saddled with some unfamiliar attendant (or perhaps, correctly, that attendant would be saddled with him), and that could only end in disaster.

He closed his eyes, listening to the porch chime jingling softly in the breeze—listened to the singing of birds and a cat crying in the distance. How pleasant it was here, and peaceful…how so far removed from the miseries that had been endured and would continue to be. Gen-san would have liked such a quiet place, and Yamazaki-kun as well.

Their losses cut deeply; their deaths would never not bring a crushing heaviness to Kondo’s chest, would never not mar his heart with an unbearable hurt. Yet, these irreplaceable two wouldn’t be the last to slip through his hands like sand in the wind, not by far. Especially not now.

Katsu Kaishu’s decree had been final; the Shinsengumi was to be renamed to Kouyo-Chinbutai and then deployed to take Koufu Castle from Satcho hold. Even if they’d managed to recruit on the way, Kondo’s forces would be, at best, outnumbered by ten-to-one. It was clear there was no longer any need for him or his men—not here in the east, after the shogun abdicated without so much of a fight. Katsu had therefore stripped them of their beloved identity with a new meaningless name, and given the commander and his loyal followers a battlefield to die on.

They would begin moving out toward this graveyard in just four days. Four days: to get all affairs aligned, to neaten up anything that required final attentions, to see the people who should be seen… And that’s what had brought Kondo here on this afternoon.

It was imperative that he spend time with Okita and Chizuru to have the memories to savor, but also not give away too many details about why. Until his diagnosis, Okita had been at his side since the Shieikan days, and though the years didn’t match, Kondo thought of him as a son. He’d grown up under his watch, learned about the blade and the world from him, followed him all the way to Kyoto to lend his sword…

If Okita were to know of the new orders, he would surely demand to rush into battle in his fragile condition, and therefore right into the arms of a premature death. Kondo didn’t want that—not for any of his men, and certainly not for the one he’d practically raised.

The breeze whispered by again and he turned his face toward the door. When his lashes parted, it was to the image of a brilliant white in the garden and the breath caught in his throat. Kondo stood and walked slowly across the tatami to the porch, his eyes focused on a single flower that had blossomed early. The petals were fully open, the pistil golden and heavily dusted with pollen.

One flower had defied all the odds. One flower had become the miracle of the garden.

Kondo crossed his arms and silently mused upon it, until Chizuru poked her head in the open inner doorway.

“Kondo-san, excuse me.”

He turned to see her lips pulling into a soft smile.

“Okita-san is awake.”

~

To continue reading, please head over to AO3. Thank you!

[of-wrens-and-whirlwinds-blog]

What’s a King to a Schoolmaster?

First commission by the ever-wonderful @turtletotem! Commission info is here!

~

Being king, Edward mused, was absolute shit.

Having been a prince, he was jaded to all this luxury. The power would’ve been fun, except if he wanted to keep the throne until his wife had a baby, he had to share it with the councils. This wasn’t even a big country and he was tired of ruling it. What he would give for a fine, strong son to take the throne so he could move far away and be a goatherd or something.

“Daydreaming again, sire?”

Edward perked up and turned with a grin to his oldest friend and current guard captain. “More like pouting,” he replied, “But I suppose the day’s getting better.”

Wilhelm smiled back a little, lop-sided. “Her majesty the queen is anxious to see you again,” he informed the king.

Edward scoffed and waved his hand. “She’s always anxious. That’s why Father picked her, because she’s anxious and if she kills me no one will suspect her.”

Wilhelm stopped smiling. “That was fast,” he remarked. “Do you hate her already?”

“No, but I suspect she hates me. I give her everything she wants and never ask for anything except her presence at state functions and an heir. She wants to be needed and I can’t give her that.” Edward shrugged and stretched, smirking as Wilhelm’s eyes flicked up and down his body. The current court fashions were tighter than Edward liked, but if it made Wilhelm flustered, he’d take it. It was always fun to fluster Will. “Poor lady. Maybe I’ll run away as soon as she has a child,” he mused. “Boy or girl.”

“That would not do, sire,” Wilhelm said stiffly. “You are still king.”

“And you are still obsessed with honor.” Edward stood, walked over, and yanked Wilhelm down for a quick kiss. “I’m telling you, a little chicken-blood, signs of a struggle, and we can make it look like you killed me and ran away. We can be goatherds together!”

Wilhelm finally, actually smiled, and put his hand on Edward’s waist. “Eddie, you don’t know shit about goats,” he retorted, but fondly. “And I can’t make cheese. So there.”

Edward laughed and embraced him.

~

It was another holiday feast, and Edward was bored out of his mind.

Sarah was having fun, talking to the other court ladies and comparing notes on whose secret lover was better. Edward didn’t mind that she had a lover. Someone to make her happy, keep her sane in this endlessly boring existence as queen. Well. He assumed it was boring.

Wilhelm was looking handsome, as usual, shadowing Edward as he stood by the fireplace and discussed the military with some of his nobles. Edward hated the military part of ruling, but the Vassa Legions were gathering next door and his ministers were nervous about war. Gods, they were so nervy.

Edward looked around the ballroom, and frowned. Everyone looked nervous. Was he missing something? He’d have to ask his spymaster what was going on. Or Wilhelm. Wilhelm always knew.

Finally, finally, his ministers drifted away, and Edward strolled over to sit in his throne again. A servant hurried over and handed him a goblet of wine. Edward nodded his thanks and toyed with the goblet, not really in the mood for more alcohol. Wilhelm drifted up to him and leaned down to murmur, “Sire, I suggest you and Queen Sarah adjourn early. There’s too much tension.”

“Oh, so you noticed it too.” Edward looked around again, frowning once more. No one would meet his eyes. “Huh. I think I will take your advice. How should I approach Sarah?”

Wilhelm raised one dark eyebrow and looked aggrieved. “Sire, you know I am exactly the wrong person to ask about that,” he replied dryly.

Edward coughed to hide a laugh. Yes, he did know. Wilhelm had never had a lover, woman or man; he just wasn’t interested in anyone, he’d told sixteen-year-old Edward, blushing.

Well, that was alright. Edward wasn’t very much into lovers, either. So sweaty, and what did one get out of it? A few minutes of pleasure that you could easily get on your own if you had the privacy? No, better to spend his nights reading and sleeping, although he always remembered to do his duty by Sarah.

Just as Edward set down his goblet and stood, Wilhelm straightening and stepping back to give him room, the doors of the ballroom slammed open, and armed men in chainmail swept in. Everyone shouted or screamed, and scurried away; but it all sounded fake and looked practiced. Edward glanced at Sarah; she was smiling. She looked over at Edward and said softly, “Sorry about this, Eddie.”

Edward grinned back. “No harm done,” he assured her cheekily. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m off to be a goatherd.”

She looked stunned, but then Wilhelm grabbed Edward’s arm and dragged him to the secret door.

It was quite interesting, how the rest of the king’s guard did not seem to be in their places. Wilhelm swore under his breath as he hustled Edward up the stairs, to the emergency exit.

“So this is what I get for spending my days with the new recruits,” he muttered furiously. “They all turn on me like dogs.”

“Oh, no,” Edward drawled, panting, because despite his joking he really was frightened enough to run. “Whatever shall we do? We’ll have to go into hiding. You know, my mother’s family has this lovely castle they never visit, we could hide there—”

“Shut up, Eddie.”

Edward shut up.

They made it to his quarters, barely. Wilhelm grabbed Edward’s sword off the wall and tossed it to him; he caught it easily and buckled it on. They had planned this, and practiced. There was a small bag under Edward’s bed containing loose, rough clothes, and several purses scattered in secret places. They gathered all of these quickly, as someone started hammering on the door. Then, while Edward slung on his cloak, Wilhelm opened the second secret door, which led into the stair way down into the dungeons. Built by one of Edward’s forefathers who liked to get off on watching people being tortured. But from the dungeons, they could get to the stables.

They followed this program quickly, and Edward began to tremble as he realized that they couldn’t hole up in a castle. They really would have to travel secretly to a barely-civilized part of the country for protection.

No more wines, he thought in a detached manner as Wilhelm slew two men who tried to stop them. No more velvets and jewels. He pulled off his signet ring and crown and dropped them in a pile of horse manure. No more fine dining and the newest books.

But also, no more being royal.

That thought made Edward suddenly happy. He was still terrified for his life, as he saddled his mare Breeze and jumped in her saddle, and following Wilhelm out of the stables, to gallop to the gate and out into the royal city. Crossbow bolts whizzed past his ear, but Breeze was faster, and soon they were in the silent city streets, sticking to shadows and avoiding the City Guard.

“So,” Edward whispered, as Wilhelm looked around sharply, “Where shall we go?”

Wilhelm hesitated, then sighed. “We should leave the continent,” he murmured back. “Or, at least pretend to. We should continue south, anyway; much more land to search to the south.”

“True enough.”

They rode in silence, far into the morning. They stopped in the woods, by a stream, and sat down while their horses rested. And then Edward felt tears in his eyes.

“Damn it!” he snarled, thumping his knee with his fist. “I told her! I told her if she asked I’d abdicate in her favor! What is it with royalty thinking they have to kill people to get what they want?!”

Wilhelm reached over and put his hand over Edward’s fist. Automatically, he uncurled it, and wove his fingers tightly with Wilhelm’s. “There was always a chance you’d come back, or others would rally around you,” he said gently. “No royal worth their salt would allow that, even if she did believe that you would never try for the throne. What if you had a son who challenged hers? The web of politics is not straightforward.”

Edward leaned over to lean his head on Wilhelm’s shoulder. “Can I be a goatherd now? They live such simple lives.”

Wilhelm sighed. “No, Eddie. We can set up as a disgraced merchant and his bodyguard in some small city, and you can be a tutor. You like teaching, don’t you?”

“Well, yes,” Edward admitted. “It was fun, teaching those youngsters about economics. But would it work?”

“It will work,” Wilhelm replied firmly. “We will make it work.”

~

If one were to ask the jovial, aging schoolmaster and his quiet blacksmith friend where they had come from, Schoolmaster Ed would laugh, and Blacksmith Will would just shake his head and smile.

“Oh, it doesn’t really matter,” Ed would chuckle. He still had an accent when he spoke. “They didn’t want me there, anyway.”

Will would just shake his head and refuse to answer.

Some of the town gossips were sure they were… peculiar. But there were never any signs. They lived together, and if one were to watch through their window (which, given the fact that their cottage was smack in the middle of the street, was never unnoticed), Ed liked to read aloud to Will, and they sometimes fell asleep on the same couch. But nothing else.

One bold young girl, Niamh, snuck out from her foster home one night before she could be caught and hurt (the wheelwright had a nasty temper and took it out on everyone) and crept into the back garden of the schoolmaster and the blacksmith, just in time to hear Ed say, “I got a letter today, from Sarah! She said she’s given birth to twins!”

“She found us?” Will asked sharply, and Niamh shrank back in the bushes, frightened by his tone.

“Yes, but it’s fine, my love. Her new husband has straightened out those courtiers too annoying to be useful, and now the country is stable again. Just in time for the births. She asked if you would mind terribly if she named one after you, the only loyal man in court.” Here, Ed faltered. “I… haven’t written back yet. Do you have anything to say to her?”

A long moment. Then Will sighed. “Tell her I thank her for the honor, and for thinking of me. That’s all I have to say to the woman who tried to have you killed.”

“Oh, but didn’t I tell you?” Ed said merrily. “She laid out the entire plot in that letter, every scrap of detail, she said because she couldn’t live without me knowing. They weren’t going to kill me! Rough me up, yes, torture me, probably, but they knew if they killed me there’d be an uproar. So they were just going to imprison me. Oh! We seem to have a visitor!”

Before Niamh could figure out what that meant, Will was looming over her, frowning. She shrank back, beginning to shake with fear, eyes huge.

But then he smiled, and said, “You’re Niamh, right? Well, come on out, child. You’ve heard quite a bit already.”

“That darling child living with that nasty wheelwright?” Ed gasped, also coming around the corner as Niamh stood slowly. “Oh, my dear! You shouldn’t be hiding in the dark and cold like that. Come, come, have tea with us. Did you run away?”

“Yes,” she answered in a small voice, as she followed them to the graveled area in front of their backdoor, where they were having a final cup of tea before bed. “I… I was scared. He was angry.”

Will frowned, but in a worried way. Ed nodded and smiled sadly. “Understandable, my dear. He’s an alarming man. Do you take sugar?”

[lovablegranny]

As it Should Be,

Its been a year since Leo abdicated and Liam was missing his brother. He tried reaching out to him a few times and got no response. He was beginning to worry that Leo had been hurt or something far worse something Liam didn’t really want to think about. The King called for his head guard to come to his office, he needed his help. Bastien knew that the King was worried about his brother and could almost guess why he was being summoned. 

 

Bastien knocked and heard Liam call for him to enter. He bowed and ask how could he be of assistance . The King then requested that he try to find Leo using any mean at his disposal. Bastien agreed before he bowed and walked out of the office and proceeded to his office to begin his search for Leo.

 

It wasn't long before Bastien returned with Leo's location and to the King's surprise his brother was closer then he thought. Liam's mind started to wonder. Why didn't Leo respond to any of his texts or emails. Did he do something to offend his only brother? Is he alright? Liam ordered Bastien to get the car ready to go to Fydelia. He was hoping Madeline wasn't up to her old tricks, his past run ins with her left him with a very low tolerance for her games and he was ready to put her behind bars. If that devil has done done something to his brother she would pay and pay dearly.

 

As the vehicle pulled up to the estate he could see Leo's sports car parked next to Madeline's car . Liam began to feel uneasy about the whole scene but he gathered himself and prepared for whatever he was walking into.

 Bastien secured the area, stepping ahead of the King and ringing the doorbell. Moments later a servant opens the door and quickly dropped into a low curtsy before the King. “Your Majesty please come in.”  Bastien stepped in first and after securing the room and motioning the King to follow.

 

Liam asked the servant if Prince Leo was there and watched her closely to be able to read her. The woman slowly looked up at the King and without saying a word she motioned with her eyes to the stairs. Liam began to feel uneasy and signaled Bastien to follow him up the stairs. Liam could vaguely hear voice as he walked further up the stairs and as he got to the third door he could hear his brother's voice coming from the other side of the door . He could hear Madeline 's voice as well and he wondered what could his brother be doing in her chambers.

 

Liam softly knocked on the door and when it opened up. There stood both Madeline and Leo , Madeline with a look of pure fear seeing the King standing at her door slowly began to back away from Leo. Liam looked at them both with fury .

 

Bastien placed a calming hand on his King's shoulder motioning him to be calm and it appeared to work, he could feel Liam’s body began to relax under his hand. Leo attempts to speak but is cut off by his brothers contempt for what he is witnessing. 

 

Leo stepped to the side offering them to come in but all Liam could think about was all of the mean and underhanded things Madeline had done to him and the love of his life and he began to get angry all over again. Liam was so angry he didn't pay attention to the huge belly Madeline was displaying.

 All he knew was she was the devil and he wanting his brother as far away from her as possible. It wasn't until he started to walk towards her that he saw it. His whole entire body began to radiate with even more anger. “So I suppose your going to give  me some sorry ass excuse as to how that happened to you .” Madeline starred at Liam knowing that she better choose her words carefully, after all she’s done to the King. But, Leo spoke first.

 “Brother she and I reconnected many months ago and we've not been out of each others site since then. And yes its mine and we're trying to make this work.” Liam looked at Leo and then at Madeline with distrust and curiosity but allowed Leo to speak. Leo asked him to sit and he began to tell him how after everything that Madeline had put him through she found herself alone and so was he. And after spending time together showing their true selves to each other they realized that maybe there was something there. Leo explained to Liam that their relationship was not forced nor was it planned but it happened. And he was happier then hes ever been. Leo motioned for Madeline to come to him and sit on his lap and she slowly began to walk to him making sure not to anger Liam anymore then he was already.

 

Liam was starting to relax but his guard wasn't completely down. He didn't trust her and he knew that he would never trust her but he listened while they both spoke. Never letting his smile while listening to Madeline reach his eyes and watching her closely trying to figure out if she drugged his brother or is blackmailing him to be with her .

 

Liam says with a almost commanding tone informed both Leo and Madeline that because the child she says that she is carrying is his brothers child, that for him to believe them and allow the child to be welcomed and acknowledged as a Rhys, there must be a DNA test to prove the child’s birth right.

 

Once proven the child will be introduced as a part of the Royal family and no sooner. They all agreed to have the procedure performed while Madeline was still pregnant and the test revealed that the child was indeed Leo's.

 

Liam had Bastien to over see the results to make sure there was no room for tampering. Liam was happy for his brother but he didn't trust Madeline and had Bastien to keep a close eye on her just in case she tried to pull any of her tricks. He knew deep down inside that if he was given any sign that she was up to her old tricks after all he’s lost because of her. He would kill her with his bare hands and he made sure that Leo knew it and would never forget it.

 

Leo and Liam began to grow closer over time but Leo knew that his brother was a ticking time bomb when it came to Madeline and baby or no baby he would surely kill her without a second thought .

 

Though strained as Liam and Madeline's relationship was and continued to be, Liam loved his niece and spoiled her rotten. It was little Mariah 's first birthday and Leo had used all of his resources to find Riley and she had agreed to attend his daughter's first birthday party with no promises to rekindle anything with Liam or to be nice and pretend to befriend Madeline while there.

 A couple days before the party Leo informed Madeline of him inviting Riley to the party. Leo sat waiting for the old Maddie to show up but to his surprise she never made an appearance. Madeline seemed to be very happy and also hinted to Leo to do whatever he could to leave Liam and Riley alone from time to time wishing maybe they could rekindle what she had so many months ago single handedly distroyed.

 Leo was so proud of her and kept saying to himself if she keeps this up I may just make a honest woman out of her soon. Madeline turned out to be a great mother to their daughter and made a total 360 when it came to how she spoke to everyone, even Liam saw the difference though he still didn't  trust her he couldn't deny the change in her was a pleasant one.

 

On the day of the party Leo had one of the guards to pick Riley up from the airport and take her to Maxwell's by request she couldn't see herself in the same building with Madeline or Liam but she liked Leo and would never disappoint him, besides she looked forward to seeing and spending time his baby girl.

 

Riley stepped off of the plane with a smirk knowing that very soon she will be face to face with her target and just the thought of finally being able to put an end to Madeline and all of her evil . “You may have been able to fool everyone else , but I know who you are and what your capable of and I'm not buying the new you bit . And anyone that stands in my way can get it too. I loved Liam with all of my heart and never on a million years did I ever think that he would lie to me and make me think that he would choose me and then choose her.” Riley was pulled out of her thoughts when called by the driver Leo had sent to pick her up from the airport. 

The guard reached for her bags and the duffle bag she was carrying,  Riley pulled the duffle away and instructed the guard to put the other bags away, she wanted to keep the duffle with her. There was no way that she was going to let her weapon out of her eyesight.  “Keep your eyes on the prize Riley. And don’t let Liam with his pretty words change or interfere with the job at hand . This Bitch dies tonight.” After awhile the car pulls up to the palace and standing there waiting is Bastien. 

[evangeline-of-montfort]

ash garden (i)

read it here on ao3

I scuff my boots against the rocky ground, bored out of my damn mind. My assignment this week must be one of the most pointless in border patrol history. This sector is of no importance whatsoever, a lonely stretch of granite and pine trees. But due to its proximity to Davidson’s estate, it has to be patrolled.

The day is overcast but chilly, and I huddle in my thin uniform. Gray clouds scud the light sky. Fall is bearing down on Montfort: according to Carmadon, we have about two weeks before the first snows hit Ascendant. 

My ability forms a protective shield around me, searching for the steel of raider weapons. As usual, there is nothing. The Prairie raids have slowed since Montfort troops withdrew from the Dancing War and border security tightened. But I haven’t lived this long—twenty-five years, now—by being complacent.

The edge of the cliff looms before me: six inches of granite are all that stand between me and the hundred foot drop. I peer over the edge anyway, a cursory glance to check for raiders, who have been known to scale the cliffs. None.  Obviously. I straighten up again and pace back towards the Hawkway, the road that runs from Ascendant in the mountains all the way down to the plains.

I switch on my wireless, a broadcaster that taps into the same signal as the other patrol units. “Sector E-1 is clear.” 

Static. I wait for the standard response from the rest of my unit, but nothing comes.

“I repeat, Sector E-1 is clear.” My voice rings out in the silence, echoing off the mountainsides and into the wilderness.

Still nothing. I switch the wireless off and then on again. No change. The device feels the same as ever, even to my ability: all the inner workings are fine, so it isn’t a mechanical issue. 

A sense of unease rises inside me. In my five years on border patrol, I’ve never lost connection like this. Something is wrong. 

There’s another, smaller, wireless hanging from my belt. A direct line to Elane and the Premier’s office. She made me take it in case of an emergency. I switch it on, just in case.

Her voice comes through the other end immediately. “Eve? Is everything alright?” There are other sounds in the background: shuffling paper and people talking in lowered voices. I’m guessing she’s sitting in one of Davidson’s meetings.

“I’ve lost contact with everyone else in my unit,” I say. Even as I talk, my eyes scan back and forth along the tree line, watching for potential danger. There’s no sign of metal, no sign of movement. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t anyone waiting, just out of sight. “I’m keeping this line open just in case. Is that alright?”

“Yeah. Stay safe. I love you.” 

“Love you too.”

I hook the wireless back onto my belt and continue pacing, but farther away from the ledge. If I have to fight, I’d rather not do it backed against a cliff.

A minute passes. Then five, then ten. I’m about to call it a false alarm when I hear a sound like muted thunder in the distance.

Then it draws closer, and I realize it isn’t thundering. 

It’s hoofbeats.  

~~~

“Love you too.”

I smile briefly at Eve’s voice on the other end before setting the device on the table. On my right, Lyrisa glances at me, a question in her eyes.

“Everything’s fine,” I say, even as worry snakes its way through my heart. “Apologies for the disruption.”

“Nothing to worry about, Elane,” Davidson says from across the table. “If you need to be excused, or anything else at all, let me know.” His expression is worried, tense. I used to think the premier was immovable, his restraint unbreakable. After five years, I know better—he can be read like anyone else, if you know him well enough. 

The others—Davidson’s closest aides and various Scarlet Guard officials—shoot me worried glances. “It’s going to be okay,” I reassure them. “Really. We should continue.” 

It feels like I’m lying through my teeth. My mind is consumed by Eve, my  fiancée, on patrol. Sworn to protect us all, even at the cost of her own life. But I have my own job to do—our weekly intel meetings are preciously short—and I won’t let my emotions get in the way. 

“Back to the situation in the Lakelands, then,” Ada Wallace says after a second. “One of their nobles made contact with the Silver Secession last week.” 

She’s the only person in the room without a notebook or files of any sort—naturally, she doesn’t need them. Sometimes, I envy her ability. Paperwork is a nightmare.

“Lord Cassius Merin,” Davidson says, consulting his own papers. “What do we know about him?” 

“He’s a cousin to Jidansa Merin,” Lyrisa says. “Very close to the Cygnet royal family. I believe I met him once.” 

Ada frowns, and I can practically see the gears whirring in her mind. “The royal family and court are still in turmoil following Cenra’s abdication last month. If Merin contacted the Secessionists on their orders…”

I shudder. The Nortan Silver Secession are violent blood supremacists and bigots, intent on restoring Silver rule through any means possible. If the Lakelands back their play, that could be very bad for us. “An alliance between them could be strong enough to stabilize the Lakelands and threaten the Nortan States,” I say. “Especially after the Dancing War.” This has always been the endgame for them—restore the Nortan monarchy, fix the thrones that Cal and Eve broke. 

“Potentially,” Ada says. “But I don’t see who they could possibly put on the throne. Maven is long dead. Cal is not a viable–”

Suddenly I feel the wireless vibrating against the table. I put it to my ear, my heart pounding like a kettle drum. “Eve? Eve, are you there?”

Her voice is nearly unintelligible, punctuated by crackling static. “There’s—trouble—raid—E1–” A high-pitched whine splits the air, and I jolt in my seat, dropping the device to the table with a clatter. 

When I raise it to my ear again, there is nothing but static.

Trouble, she said. A raid. 

The blood drains from my face. The room has fallen silent, every eye fixed on me. “She needs help,” I say hoarsely. “Evangeline’s in danger.”

Lyrisa grabs my arm, her grip bruising and viselike. “I’ll go help her. I can get to Sector E1 in five minutes if I take a cycle up the Hawkway.”

“You can’t–”

“Watch me. Whoever tried to hurt Evie, I’ll kick their ass–”

“No—Elane is correct. You are too valuable.” Davidson’s voice cuts through the rising clamor like a knife. “A Piedmont princess, the former betrothed of Orrian Cygnet? You cannot let yourself be captured.”

She doesn’t back down. “There’s only one cycle—we can send one person. I’m the only fighter here. It makes  sense for me to go.”

“You will not be going,” the premier says. “That is final.” 

I turn to him, desperate. “Evangeline needs help. She might be injured, or—” Bile rises in my throat. Eve isn’t dead. She can’t be dead. I can’t imagine a world without her in it.

“Enough,” Davidson says. His voice is deadly calm, but his eyes burn with gold fire as he stands from the table. “I will go.”

“So Lyrisa is too valuable, but the premier of this country is not?” Carmadon appears suddenly in the doorway of the library, and I wonder how long he’s been eavesdropping outside. His face is as hard as I’ve ever seen it, cut with lines of anxiety. “Dane, please—”

“I will go,” Davidson repeats firmly. “My life should hold no greater value than those of my officers. Premiers can...” He hesitates, and I can see through his composure to the person he is underneath: shaken but determined. 

“They can be replaced,” he says at last.

His husband closes his eyes, as if he’s willing the words away. “No. They can’t.  You can’t.” 

“Every second I spend here is a second Evangeline could be in greater danger. If anything’s happened to her…” His voice darkens, and I realize Dane Davidson would be a formidable enemy on the battlefield indeed. I pity whoever tries to cross him. 

“Then let me go with you,” Carmadon says suddenly. His voice is afraid, but he does not back down. “I can—”

“You can stay here, in case something happens to me,” Davidson interrupts. He steps through the doorway, and the look he exchanges with his husband is so private that I drop my gaze. “I cannot fight knowing you are in danger as well, Carm. I cannot afford distractions.”

I am suddenly reminded of Evangeline before she went to defend the walls of Corvium. She had begged me to remain safely at the Ridge House. You would only distract me, she’d said. So reluctantly, I had stayed. 

She and Davidson are so similar. Destined for greatness, destined to fight a dozen wars and emerge victorious. Theirs is a flame that will never stop burning. 

And Carmadon and I? We are similar as well. We tend the hearth, feed the fire, ensure the blaze doesn’t consume itself. We are content to stand in the shadow of greatness, strong enough to let our loves go again and again to the jaws of mortal danger.

Davidson presses a kiss to his husband’s forehead. “Trust that I will come home to you. But if I cannot? Have strength, my dear Carmadon. Have strength.” 

The door swings shut as he leaves, and I pray that I have not sent him to his death. 

~~~

tag list: @evangelineartemiasamos @fuvkingmagnus @lilyharvord @freaky-freiday @drasticsarcastic 

[nobletorn]

the  courts  offer  bread  and  salt  to  ALESTER  TYRELL  of  HOUSE  TYRELL.  many  say  that  the  TWENTY - NINE  year  old  RULING  LORD  of  HIGHGARDEN  is  known  to  be  VEHEMENT  and  LYRICAL,  though  ill  tongues  whisper  that  HE  is  BELLICOSE  and  SELF - INDULGENT.  when  his  name  is  uttered  ,  one  is  reminded  of  an  invariable  rage  boiling  just  beneath  the  surface  that  is  aways  ready  to  be  unleashed  ,  all  of  the  finest  silks  and  robes  attainable  ,  the  sweetest  delicacies  known  to  the  realm  &  the  heaviness  of  a  brand  new  responsibility  that  weighs  more  than  ever  expected.  may  he  be  blessed  and  protected  in  this  war  of  crowns.

hi  hey  hello  !  it’s  nikki  here  ,  and  i  have  ...  a  boy  .  a  manchild  .  a  disaster  baby  .  a  ruinous  excuse  for  a  ruling  lord  .  ok  Maybe  that’s  a  little  dramatic  ,  but  still  ,  he’s  a  MESS  and  he  likes  to  FIGHT  so  buckle  up  ??  and  enjoy  !

NAME:  alester  tyrell. GENDER:  cis  male. NICKNAMES:  ales,  al,  als.  but  these  are  only  for  those  quite  close  to  him. BIRTHPLACE:  highgarden. SEXUALITY:  bisexual. MBTI:  estp-t.

BIOGRAPHY:

born  the  first  child  and  eldest  son  of  garlan  tyrell  and  elinor  tyrell  (  neé  tarly  )  alester  was  an  heir  to  the  seat  of  highgarden  from  birth.  though  three  other  children  would  follow,  alester  was  on  a  pedestal  of  responsibility  -  but  it  was  one  he  ignored  from  the  very  beginning.  he  was  a  rambunctious  child,  getting  into  troubling  only  because  there  was  trouble  to  be  gotten  into.  he  thrived  on  doing  things  he  was  told  not  to  (  and  still  does  ,  really  )  which  earned  him  an  ornery  reputation  from  the  start.

growing  up,  he  was  as  spoiled  as  anyone  might  think,  and  he  took  it  upon  himself  to  indulge  in  every  aspect  of  noble  life  there  was  at  his  fingertips.  he  scarcely  did  things  for  himself,  allowing  the  servants  to  do  even  the  simplest  of  deeds.  alester  enjoys  finer  clothes  and  furs  and  jewels,  and  partakes  in  every  feast  he  can  to  indulge  in  the  decedent  sweets  that  would  be  served. many  people  outside  of  the  family  (  and maybe even in it  )  say  he  is  too  loose  with  his  coin  and  always  has  been.

alester’s  father  was  a  large,  burly  man  who  valued  victory  in  all  things.  garlan  was  many  things,  but  overly  -  affectionate  was  not  one  of  them.  he  wasn’t  a  cruel  man,  but  he  was  extremely  adamant  that  alester  start  training  to  become  ruling  lord  at  a  very  young  age  -  and  to  alester,  a  boy  who  wanted  nothing  more  than  freedom,  that  was  as  cruel  as  one  could  get.  alester  rebelled  and  refused  to  go  to  the  training  sessions  most  days,  and  skipped  out  on  any  lesson  that  didn’t  involve  fighting.  his  mother  was  adamant  too,  though  she  was  more  concerned  with  alester’s  wellbeing  than  garlan  was.  elinor  saw  in  her  son’s  eyes  a  fire  that  could  never  be  quelled,  and  she  knew  it  spelled  trouble  -  and  she  could  always  be  found  trying  to  keep  him  out  of  it.  for  that,  and  for  always  lending  an  ear  for  long  tangents  about  his  father and everything else,  alester  loved  her  dearly.

alester  feels  deeply,  and  each  emotion  is  felt  so  keenly  that  when  he’s  riled  up  ,  there  is  almost  nothing  that  can  be  done  to  calm  him  down.  this,  among  being  bored  with  his  father’s  teachings  and  seeking  out  more  trouble,  is  what  contributed  to  the  forming  of  his  fighting  habit  in  his  teens.  if  he’s  angry  with  you,  he  WILL  fight  you.  he  loves  the  thrill  of  it,  loves  landing  a  clean  blow  and  dodging  one.  he  even  loves  being  hit,  loves  the  taste  of  blood  in  his  mouth.

he  went  so  far  as  to  actively  seek  out  fights.  he  would  rile  people  up  to  get  them  to  react,  he  would  place  bets  on  if  he  could  get  someone  to  throw  the  first  swing.  he  fought  so  much,  in  fact,  that  his  face  was  nearly  always  black  with  bruises.  his  drinking  habits,  which  were  quite  impressive  in  how  much  he  could  consume  and  still  fight,  did  nothing  to  help  these  tendencies.  many  people  during  this  time  accused  the  tyrell  family  of  not  having  a  sound  hold  on  the  future,  with  an  heir  so  volatile.

alester  traveled  a  LOT  in  his  youth.  like,  he  went  EVERYWHERE.  if  he  was  ever  angry  (  and  he  was  angry  a  lot,  because  it  really  does  Not  take  much  )  he  would  hop  on  his  horse  and  just...  take  off.  he  loves  highgarden,  and  is  deeply  loyal  to  it,  but  traveling  away  from  it  brought  adventure  and  soon  enough,  it  even  brought  love.  though  his  affair  with  cedrik  baratheon  often  felt  one-sided,  especially  since  the  latter  was  soon  married  after  they  met,  what  alester  felt  (  and  still  feels  )  for  the  baratheon  lord  is  not  something  he’s  very  good  at  ignoring.  but  now,  with  a  baratheon  and  stark  betrothal  on  the  horizon,  alester  is  heartbroken  -  he  had  fully  believed  he  and  cedrik  would  both  abdicate  their  positions  as  ruling  lords  in  order  to  marry,  and  now  that  future  seems  impossible.  and  now,  alester  is  searching  for  a  betrothal  of  his  own  (  check  it  out  here  !  )  to  fill  a  hole  he  thinks  he  created  himself.

but  anyway,  back  to  the  story ...  when  he  was  around  twenty-eight,  just  under  a  year  ago,  his  father  became  seriously  ill.  though  garlan  was  always  one  to  have  bouts  of  illness  (  and  perhaps  that’s  why  he  was  so  keen  on  alester  learning  so  much  so  quickly,  and  alester  definitely  feels  guilty  for  ignoring  it  now  )  this  illness  was  different.  it  was  fast,  harsh,  and  unforgiving,  and  the  tyrell  lord  was  dead  within  the  week.  alester  was  thus  thrust  upon  the  seat  of  highgarden  and  named  ruling  lord,  and  it’s  only  now  that  he’s  realizing  just  how  little  he  knows  about  the  position  his  father  tried  so  hard  to  teach  him  about.  it  was  only  a  few  months  after  garlan’s  death  that  alester’s  mother  passed  away,  though  she  was  immensely  proud  of  alester  in  the  short  time  she  saw  him  as  ruling  lord  -  for  what,  alester  isn’t  sure,  but  he  knows  he  wants  to  continue  to  make  her  proud.

and  that’s  it,  folks  !  i’ll  probably  have  a  google  doc  in  the  next  week  or  so  with  more  info  ??  but  this  is  plenty  for  plots...  so  GIVE  THEM  TO  ME

[tindez]

In the end, the evidence was inescapable. “The president did in fact pressure a foreign government to corrupt our election process,” Romney said. “And really, corrupting an election process in a democratic republic is about as abusive and egregious an act against the Constitution—and one's oath—that I can imagine. It's what autocrats do.” [...] I found Romney filled with what seemed like righteous indignation about the president’s misconduct—quoting hymns and scripture, expressing dismay at his party, and bracing for the political backlash. [...] “I get that a lot—‘Be with the president,’” Romney told me, sounding slightly perplexed. “And I’ll say, ‘Regardless of his point of view? Regardless of the issue?’ And they say yes. And … it’s like, ‘Well, no, I can’t do that.’”

While I disagree with Mitt Romney on many things, I find it heartening to see a Republican who definitely thought this through and stuck to his convictions. Country over party! Kudos to him and to Utah.

So, I’m sharing this with y’all. Stay optimistic! Sometimes those we disagree with can still get work done alongside us.

(full article under the cut for those without access to The Atlantic)

POLITICS How Mitt Romney Decided Trump Is Guilty Comparing the president’s behavior to that of an autocrat, the Republican senator explains to The Atlantic why he’s voting to convict him. MCKAY COPPINS 2:03 PM ET Mitt Romney didn’t want to go through with it. “This has been the most difficult decision I have ever had to make in my life,” he told me yesterday afternoon in his Senate office. Roughly 24 hours later, Romney would deliver a speech announcing that he was voting to convict President Donald Trump on the first article of impeachment—abuse of power. For weeks, the senator from Utah had sat silently in the impeachment trial alongside his 99 colleagues, reviewing the evidence at night and praying for guidance. The gravity of the moment weighed on him, as did the pressure from members of his own party to acquit their leader. As his conscience tugged at him, he said, the exercise took on a spiritual dimension. Romney, a devout member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, described to me the power of taking an oath before God: “It’s something which I take very seriously.” Throughout the trial, he said, he was guided by his father’s favorite verse of Mormon scripture: Search diligently, pray always, and be believing, and all things shall work together for your good. “I have gone through a process of very thorough analysis and searching, and I have prayed through this process,” he told me. “But I don’t pretend that God told me what to do.” In the end, the evidence was inescapable. “The president did in fact pressure a foreign government to corrupt our election process,” Romney said. “And really, corrupting an election process in a democratic republic is about as abusive and egregious an act against the Constitution—and one's oath—that I can imagine. It's what autocrats do.” According to Romney’s interpretation of Alexander Hamilton’s treatise on impeachment in “Federalist No. 65”—which he says he’s read “multiple, multiple times”—Trump’s attempts to enlist the Ukrainian president in interfering with the 2020 election clearly rose to the level of “high crimes and misdemeanors.” (He told me he would not vote to convict on the second article of impeachment, obstruction of Congress.) Romney’s vote will do little to reorient the political landscape. The president’s acquittal has been all but certain for weeks, as Republicans have circled the wagons to protect Trump. But the Utahan’s sharp indictment ensures that at least one dissenting voice from within the president’s party will be on the record—and Romney seems to believe history will vindicate his decision. He also knows his vote will likely make him a pariah on the right. Already, he says, he’s experienced firsthand the ire of the base. At an airport recently, a stranger yelled at him, “You ought to be ashamed!” During a trip to Florida with his wife this past weekend, someone shouted “Traitor!” from a car window. Eight years ago, he was the leader of the Republican Party, its nominee for president. Today, he has become accustomed to a kind of political loneliness. Romney famously opposed Trump’s candidacy in 2016, and while the rest of his party has fallen in line since then, he has remained stubbornly independent—infuriating Trump, who routinely derides him in public as a “pompous ass” and worse. As I wrote last year, this dynamic seems to have liberated the senator in a way that’s unlike anything he has experienced in his political career. Still, when the senator invited me to his Capitol Hill office yesterday, I was unsure what he would reveal. Romney had been largely silent throughout the impeachment proceedings, giving little indication of which way he was leaning. I half-expected to find a cowed and calculating politician ready with a list of excuses for caving. (His staff granted the interview on the condition that it would be embargoed until he took to the Senate floor.) Instead, I found Romney filled with what seemed like righteous indignation about the president’s misconduct—quoting hymns and scripture, expressing dismay at his party, and bracing for the political backlash. Romney confessed that he’d spent much of the impeachment trial hoping a way out would present itself: “I did not want to get here.” In fact, that was part of the reason he wanted former National Security Adviser John Bolton to testify about what Trump had told him. “I had the hope that he would be able to say something exculpatory and create reasonable doubt, so I wouldn't have to vote to convict,” Romney said. Still, he found the case presented by the president’s defense team unpersuasive. Romney had a hard time believing, for example, that Trump had been acting out of a desire to crack down on corruption when he tried to pressure Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky to investigate former Vice President Joe Biden and his son Hunter. The Bidens’ alleged conflicts of interest may have been “ugly,” Romney said, but it was never established that they warranted a criminal investigation. “No crime was alleged by the defense, and yet the president went to an extreme level to investigate these two people … and for what purpose?” The only motive that made sense, he determined, was a political one. Romney was similarly unmoved by the Trump attorney Alan Dershowitz’s contention that a president who believes his reelection is in the national interest can’t be impeached for pursuing a political advantage. “I had Professor Dershowitz for criminal law in law school,” Romney said, “and he was known to occasionally take his argument to its illogical conclusion.” Nor was the senator swayed by the theory that a president can be impeached only for breaking a statutory law. “To use an old Mormon hymn phrase, that makes reason stare,” he said. “The idea that Congress would have to anticipate all of the offensive things a president could possibly do, and then make them a statute?” Romney posed a hypothetical: What if the president decided to pardon every Republican in prison nationwide, while leaving every Democrat locked up? “There’s no law against that!” he said. “So it’s not a crime or misdemeanor. But it’s obviously absurd.” When I asked Romney why none of his fellow Republicans had reached the same conclusion, he attempted diplomacy. “I’m not going to try and determine the thinking or motives of my colleagues,” he said. “I think it’s a mistake for any senator to try and get in the head of another senator and judge them.” But as he discussed the various rationalizations put forth by other Republican senators, he seemed to grow exasperated. He took particular issue with the idea—currently quite trendy in his caucus—that Trump’s fate should be decided at the ballot box, not in the Senate. “I would have liked to have abdicated my responsibility as I understood it under the Constitution and under the writing of the Founders by saying, ‘Let’s leave this to the voters.’” But, he said, “I’m subject to my own conscience.” When I asked how it felt to be formally disinvited from this month’s Conservative Political Action Conference, he laughed and noted that he hadn’t attended the conference since 2013. But it seems clear that his journey from GOP standard-bearer to party supervillain has been jarring. “I was under the misimpression that what brought Republican voters together was conviction in a certain number of policy points of view,” Romney said. He recalled a political strategist during one of his early campaigns explaining how to court the three main factions of the GOP coalition—social conservatives, fiscal conservatives, and foreign-policy hawks. Much of Romney’s career since then has been spent trying to win over ideological purists on the right. In 2012, he said, some Tea Party activists refused to support him, because he didn’t have a plan to balance the federal budget within a single year. Now the conservative movement is ruled by a president who routinely makes a mockery of such litmus tests. Deficit reduction? “There’s no purchase for that,” Romney said. Foreign policy? “The letters with Kim Jong Un didn’t seem to frighten people away … The meeting with the Russian ambassador in the White House right after the election didn’t seem to bother people.” Somehow, Romney said, he is the one constantly being told that he needs to “be with the president.” “I get that a lot—‘Be with the president,’” Romney told me, sounding slightly perplexed. “And I’ll say, ‘Regardless of his point of view? Regardless of the issue?’ And they say yes. And … it’s like, ‘Well, no, I can’t do that.’” For now, Romney said, he is bracing for an uncertain political future. He said he can’t predict whether Trump will emerge from the impeachment battle emboldened or constrained, but he doubts the experience has shaken him: “I think what’s fair to say about the president is that he doesn’t change his ways a lot.” Nor is he expecting that their relationship will be easily repaired. (“We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it,” he joked.) Romney acknowledged that his vote to convict may hamper his own ability to legislate, at least for a while. “I don’t know how long the blowback might exist or how strenuous it might be, but I’m anticipating a long time and a very strong response.” Though he said he won’t make an endorsement in this year’s presidential election, Romney was clear that he will not cast a ballot for Trump. But, he said, “under no circumstances would I vote for Bernie Sanders or Elizabeth Warren to become president of the United States.” In 2016, he wrote in his wife’s name, and he told me, “She’ll probably get [a] second vote.” For months, Romney’s detractors on both the right and the left have searched for an ulterior motive to his maneuvering, convinced that a secret cynicism lurked beneath his lofty appeals to conscience and principle. Just last week, the Washington Examiner ran a story speculating that the senator might be positioning himself for a presidential run in 2024. When I asked Romney about the report, he erupted in laughter. “Yes! That’s it! They caught me!” he proclaimed. “Look at the base I have! It’s going to be at least 2 or 3 percent of the Republican Party. As goes Utah, so goes the nation!” The truth is that Romney’s decisive break with Trump could end up hurting him even in Utah, a red state where the president is uncommonly unpopular. What that means for his reelection prospects, the senator couldn’t say. (He doesn’t have to face voters again until 2024.) But as he thought about it, another hymn came to mind. “Do what is right; let the consequence follow,” he recited. “And I don’t know what all the consequences will be.” We want to hear what you think about this article. Submit a letter to the editor or write to letters@theatlantic.com. MCKAY COPPINS is a staff writer at The Atlantic and the author of The Wilderness, a book about the battle over the future of the Republican Party.