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wild-typo-turtle · 8 days ago

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Threads - Part 14

Explicit (slow burn, 18+ only) - Rings of Power - Gil-galad x OFC (Elf)

Includes S2E8 of Rings of Power - spoilers ahoy!

Gil-galad had only taken a handful of steps when his gaze passed over yet another collapsed building. From the looks of things, it had once been an open, airy shop that had faced directly into the plaza. The roof had caved in, creating dusty shadows, and even his keen eyes might have missed the slumped figure had he not heard the tiny whimper from the darkness.

Eregion has been destroyed; Sauron is gone. And yet, the sun still shines, as the ruined city holds the last thing that High King Gil-galad had ever expected to find.

Themes: #Idiots in love, #love at first sight, #soulmates, #smut with feelings, #fix-it, #everybody lives

Content Warnings: Explicit content (parts 9, 11, and 13), canon-typical violence; loss of parents; grief/mourning. This part contains very brief, light M smut.

Tag List: @morganas-pendragons, @stellar-solar-flare, @the141bandicoot; @inyx-writes44, @melmel-fandom, @hufflepufferine, @shadows-and-flowers, @xcrybaby555x, @bespectacledhuman

Face claim: Keri Russell as Linnea

Part 1 (includes A/N and credits), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9 (contains smut), Part 10, Part 11 (contains very brief, light smut), Part 12, Part 13 (contains smut)

A/N: Thank you to everyone who responded to my update earlier this week with such kind encouragement! I appreciate all the lovely notes and it helped me feel much better. And now here we are! This chapter opens the second arc of the plot - it's a bit short, but we are setting up for lots of action. Enjoy! -WTT

Part 14

It had been rare in his life that Ereinion had known peace. True, his time as High King had been peaceful for the most part, and he had grown his kingdom significantly over the hundreds of years he had ruled. Yet for himself, there had been little enough of that peace; there had always been problems to solve, matters that demanded his attention.

Not that that had changed. If anything, the demands on his time had grown more numerous over the last five years, with the ever-present threat of the enemy and the need to prepare. The drums of war were loud now, the enemy’s uruk frequently testing their defenses.

But now, there was someone to share those demands with.

Peace, and healing, and rest. Linnea's eyes had promised such when they had first met, and she had kept that promise in every way that a queen and a wife could. As queen, she had taken on a share of his work; she had overseen the logistics of supplying and equipping the growing army, allowing him to focus on strategy and alliances.

Linnea the Good, Círdan had said the singers would name her, and indeed they had done so. She was beloved throughout Lindon, spending hours in the city with the smiths and the weavers and the growers. And in the evening, when they did not have a council meeting to attend, he would often find her in her weaving room surrounded by members of the court or visiting artisans. Everyone wanted to be around her; everyone enjoyed her company.

And as wife, she had brought him the peace of her love, the healing of his lonely heart. The years had passed in the blink of an eye and now there was no imagining how his life might have been without her. Fortunately, he needed to do no such thing.

The sun was barely peeking over the edge of the horizon, and the room was still dim, filled with the greyish light of pre-dawn. But he needed no light to see, not with Linnea in his arms, straddling his thighs with her back against his chest, and her soft, sweet sighs teasing his ear. One of his hands cupped her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers; the other gently stroked between her legs above where they were joined. She was close to her peak, and her body fluttered around him, a sensation that he knew well after those thousand nights and more that he had promised her.

And peace was perhaps a strange word in this moment. But it was the right word, holding his wife, moving slowly within her. The peace of feeling her pleasure as she surrendered to the touch of his hand, to the thrusts of his body. The peace of her release bringing on his own, that feeling of leaving himself and flowing out.

Not everything. Not yet. Soon, they had said, and that vision of her carrying their child ever lingered in his mind. But those drumbeats of war continued to pound, and both of them clung to the hope that they would know when the time was right.

But that release still made Ereinion groan with satisfaction, made him hold Linnea tighter to him as he panted for air. As it ebbed, he slowly eased them both down on the bed, curling himself around her gently, keeping her close for a few minutes more. The sun was rising, and he cherished the sight of her soft skin, the flawless creamy expanse glowing in the brightening light.

His arm lay around her waist, and he felt her take his hand and twine their fingers together.

“Perhaps we should take a day of rest,” she murmured. “We have trained every day for many months. Perhaps we should remain abed today, and begin again on the morrow.”

Ereinion chuckled, pressing a kiss to the back of Linnea’s shoulder. “Abed for the entire day? However might we pass so many hours?”

She echoed his soft laugh, holding his hand tighter. Such was not a luxury they had, and yet he felt the light stirring of temptation as he had before over the years. And there had been times when responsibility had been able to be set aside; there had been afternoon picnics, daytime excursions together down to the city, nights when they had retired early for a few precious hours of privacy.

And mornings like this one. Mornings when they rose later than accustomed, replete with the joy of loving union.

He pressed another kiss to her shoulder, humming quietly in contentment. “The Pilino Tarí would be bereft without their leader,” he said softly. “And should the High King fail to present himself for practice, others might take such for permission to do the same.”

Linnea mumbled noncommittally, and he chuckled again, freeing his hand to smooth it gently over her hip. “Have I not pleased you?” he murmured, kissing the nape of her neck. “Is that why you wish to remain here, melethel? You are unsatisfied?”

As he’d known they would, his words made her laugh. She rolled over in his embrace, and he smiled as she kissed his lips in an emphatic denial of his teasing.

“You know well that it is quite the opposite, meleth nín,” she whispered. “I am so very satisfied that I cannot possibly move from this bed.”

He loved her. He loved her so much that he oft felt that he could not contain it; there was simply too much to hold inside. Thankfully, he did not have to - he could pour her full of it and she would take everything he had to give, and return just as much.

He kissed her again quickly. Far too quickly, but the minutes were slipping by and they needed to rise. His servants and hers would come soon, and they would have to make haste with their breakfast before it was time to ride out. It was not the first time that that had been the case - but now, as then, he felt absolutely no regret over the need to hurry.

She was worth it. She was worth all of it.

To the outsider’s eye, Lindon sometimes appeared to be nothing more than a great forest, its buildings half-hidden by the trees. Yet the city itself stretched for miles, and its outskirts included several large fields where its armed forces could train en masse.

Five years had been enough time to establish those training camps, and it was one such that they were bound for that morning, as had been the routine for months. Training, often followed by council sessions in the afternoon, or an excursion to Lindon if Linnea needed to meet with the crafters who were supplying the growing army. She could not complain about a lack of tasks, and yet, she knew that Gil-galad was far more occupied even than she.

She glanced to her right where he rode beside her, sitting tall and proud in the saddle. Over the years they had been wed, she had learned that this was where he was most at home; Gil-galad was a soldier, a warrior, at his heart, and his armor sat upon him like a second skin. The reins were held easily in his hand, able to be tightened in an instant if needed, but his mount knew him well. A small shift of his weight, a light tap of the heel, was all that was normally required to guide the horse.

Linnea did not fool herself that she was his equal. Yet the years of practice had grown her skill, especially given that her own horse had been with her nearly the entire time. Súrë was as light of foot as the wind she was named for, a soft grey mare that had been only a year old when Linnea had first come to Lindon. Now in her prime, she and Linnea had learned together, and in doing so had become the best of friends.

The camp was already bustling as it came into view; it made her smile, remembering the reason why they were tardy. It was a continual balance, the demands of ruling with the needs of a marriage - and the two of them had not always been perfect at achieving it. But they had learned, and they had done so together every step of the way.

Training, however, was a separate endeavor.

She met Gil-galad’s eyes briefly, exchanging a soft smile with him before she turned Súrë. Her guards fell in behind her; his would continue on, following him to where the soldiers were drilling in order to receive reports from the officers. After that, he would join the drills, considering it important for his troops to see him practicing alongside them. She agreed entirely, and had made his philosophy her own over the years.

The Pilino Tarí had not waited for her; she would not have expected them to. They were at the far end of the field, and as she cantered up, she watched with pride as they worked: the Queen’s Arrows, formed four years ago and comprised of two hundred of Lindon’s best archers. Afoot, they were still a force to be reckoned with, but their power lay in their horseback training; they could shoot mounted, at speed, decimating the enemy as they galloped forth. Their saddles and tack were specially crafted, carrying additional quivers of arrows on either side in front of the rider’s leg.

They had yet to be tested in battle. Linnea was unsure if she was thankful for that or not - there was only so much they could learn from training. But she had seen the worry in Gil-galad’s eyes when they had first spoken of her forming the company; he had given his consent and his support, and he plainly saw the wisdom in it. As King, his decision was clear; as husband, his heart still fretted.

But she could do no less for her realm. Not after gripping her bow for the first time; not after feeling it sing in her hands when she had shyly taken it to the practice ranges, alone, not even bringing Gil-galad with her. She had sworn her guards to secrecy about her visits; it felt like a private thing, exploring her skill, seeing if her instincts had been right.

It made her smile again for a moment, remembering the pride on Gil-galad’s face when she had finally shown him.

You have a gift for it, beloved.

She brought Súrë to a halt off to the side of the practice area, waiting patiently for a convenient moment to join them. Her leftenants were on the field with the troops; while she might be the commander in name, she had been under no illusion of being qualified to direct the force in a real battle. In time, perhaps, but for the present she had chosen a pair of seasoned veterans to advise her.

Tallagor, her First Leftenant, was first to see her. Second Leftenant Malfin was beside him; he called to her briefly and then turned his horse, riding around behind the archers that were waiting to make their runs across the practice field. It was a wide open span with targets positioned at irregular intervals, as well as boulders and fallen trees and other obstacles. The field was rearranged regularly, forcing the riders to continually adapt and adjust as they would in a real battle.

Tallagor reined up next to her, nodding at her as he did so. “High Queen.”

“On dhea,” she nodded back. “How goes it this morning?”

“Very well. We have already nearly completed one rotation.” He cleared his throat, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “Would you care to take the field before we move the targets for another round?”

She liked Tallagor; she liked him enough to give him a wry smile. He was teasing her in his dry way about her tardiness, and she was not above acknowledging it. Súrë snorted, as if she could read her rider’s thoughts, and stamped a foot in impatience.

Linnea chuckled at that, reaching out and stroking the side of Súrë’s neck to settle the horse. “Indeed,” she smiled. “I must train just as the rest of you do. I will join the ranks now.”

The practice field was divided in half, allowing for two riders to proceed simultaneously. At times they would ride in groups, learning how to work together and to avoid members of their own company, but today they were proceeding individually across the field.

The remaining troops, although few enough, would have deferred to her instantly. But Linnea waited like the rest of them, taking her place at the end of one of the two lines. Her guards had taken up positions a short distance away, allowing her as much freedom as they could, and as she joined the line Malfin rode up beside her.

“High Queen,” she murmured. “It is a fine day for training, is it not?”

“It is.” Linnea smiled, keeping the reins loose in her hand and allowing Sure to naturally advance as the line moved. “And I see the company is in good form. My thanks to you both for making a start before I arrived.”

Malfin nodded. “Of course, High Queen. Tallagor and I were speaking this morning; we thought that next week, we might train in the forests as opposed to camp.”

They had done so before, and Linnea nodded her approval. Changing the practice course was helpful, but a real location with all its variables was an excellent training exercise.

“I think full armor as well, then,” she agreed. “Let us make a proper day of it.”

Normally for training, the Pilino Tarí wore light leather cuirasses over long gambesons and leggings; Linnea was in such herself. But for battle they would outfit as full cavalry, as would their horses. If they were going to train in the forests, it was a good time to practice with the extra weight as well.

“High Queen.”

There was little more to say, not with how regularly they saw each other to train. She had up-to-date supply requests and equipment reviews, and there was no need to ask the same questions every day. Instead, Linnea contented herself with watching the troops ahead of her as they proceeded across the field. Malfin stayed quiet by her side; Linnea had always found her restful company, and there were few better with the bow. The Pilino Tarí were in good hands.

It was almost peaceful, despite the nature of the activity. The fury and urgency and heart-pounding danger of a battle could not be replicated on a practice field. Here, the sun was bright; the scents of leather and horse filled her nostrils. She could feel Súrë’s warmth through her leggings. She could hear murmurs of quiet conversation, even laughter.

The last rider in front of her began the course. With a nod, Malfin moved off, allowing Linnea space to prepare for her run.

Linnea took a deep breath, gathering herself. Her bow was held in her left hand, not too tight and not too loose. Her right hand was free to draw and nock her first arrow; that was always part of training, practicing the art of loading the bow while on the move. In battle, the first arrow could be prepared, but afterward, one’s life could depend on how quickly a new arrow could be found and shot.

She touched Súrë’s flanks, and the horse leapt forward.

Three years of practice, for an Elf, was a drop in the sea. And Linnea had spent those years working hard to surrender the comfort of the reins and learn to communicate with her horse through her legs alone. But Súrë had learned well; she nimbly skirted the first of the obstacles - a pile of tall boulders - as Linnea drew an arrow from one of the side quivers and notched it to the bow string. The first target was a long strip of bark on a pole, a short distance from the boulders, and she easily hit it as Súrë passed by.

One down. Many to go.

The targets were not only scattered irregularly, they were also at varying heights. Here, one practically hidden by the long grass, representing a crouching enemy. Here, one high above, an enemy hiding in the branches of a tree. Nothing allowing for routine, everything requiring the rider to adapt and improvise. Tallagor was old, older than Gil-galad even; he was a veteran of many battles, and had offered many good thoughts on how best to train.

Súrë leapt a jumbled heap of logs as Linnea shot for one of the low targets. Her arrow flew wide and she grimaced, but there was no time for that - there were two more targets in quick succession. She hit those and then continued, urging Súrë faster for a better challenge, and the horse was eager for it; she lunged into a gallop, rocketing through the rest of the course at close to her top speed.

At the end of the field, they turned back, running the obstacles once more. And this time, Linnea did not miss one target.

She allowed herself to feel a glow of pride as Súrë slowed to a walk back at the lines of troops that had already finished. It was foolish to expect that she would never miss in battle, but it was a pleasant start to the training day.

Tallagor and Malfin were waiting for her there, and she offered them a smile as she rode up. “I believe we are ready to reset the course. May I - ”

“High Queen.”

Slowly, Linnea turned in the saddle.

She had been distracted. She had not heard the Elf running up, but as he came to a halt, she knew him. He was red-haired, named Vorohil, and she remembered his twin brother Vorohir from her first months in Lindon when they had visited the Havens.

He stopped, looking up at her, and her blood ran cold. There was a hint of trepidation on his face, and her first thought was that there had been some sort of accident during the drills, that Gil-galad had been hurt - but no. She would have felt it if so. Whatever it was, it was not that.

“The High King asks for you,” Vorohil said. “A messenger has arrived from the Greenwood.”

The trepidation made more sense now, although it did nothing to dispel the chill inside her. Vorohil was fearful, although he had given her no specifics. Perhaps he did not know what news the messenger had brought, but he also did not know that it was good news.

“Where is the King?”

“This way, my lady.”

Linnea was ahorse, and Vorohil was on foot, but she kept Súrë to a brisk trot and followed him across the entire length of the camp. To her left she could see the troops continuing to drill, oblivious to whatever news awaited her.

It was hard, in a way, to believe that the news could be dire. Not in the bright, late morning sun; not with how the day had begun.

She saw Gil-galad even before Vorohil stopped. He was standing outside the infantry commander's field tent, and beside him was the messenger from the Greenwood. She knew that, for she recognized Arondir, even though it had been many years since they had seen one another. But he was an Elf, he had changed little; even the sadness in his eyes for his lost love was still just as present.

He bowed to her as she slid off Súrë and came up to them, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were locked on Gil-galad. He was holding a scroll, but he did not offer it to her - and when he spoke, she understood why.

The message was plain enough. There was no need to read it.

“The Greenwood is under siege,” he said. “The enemy has come forth. And Oropher calls for our aid.”

TBC....

#rings of power #gil galad #gil-galad #the rings of power #trop fanfiction #gil-galad x ofc #fanfic #fanfiction #fix it fic #fix it au

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yoki-doki-then · 3 months ago

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FFXIV Write 2024 - T E M P E S T

"I'm not sure if they'll be showing up at all," starts the son, seated by a crackling fire in a tome-rich study, offset by the heavy percussion of rain on the window wall. "Mom and Yoki probably won't come. Aunty dearest is a maybe." He pours honey whiskey into a crystal glass, alcohol washing over ice crystals." Sweet time is taken to bring that spirit to his lips, a swirl and sniff required before imbibing. It's only polite. "You know how headstrong the family can be about independence." Slowly, his head tilts, long and pale hair gliding across his shoulders, ocean-blue eyes staring at his progenitor. It's hard for a Lalafell to look like he owns the room, but he sits with an ankle on thigh so easily he might as well be invincible.

"Stubborn and stupid are the words to use, Totolili," says the father, staving off slumber as he slumps on a couch. "Whatever kindness is offered in the public theatre should be discarded in private. This is the place we declare the future. And I've declared our family will be safe from the end of the world, residing in luxury as we do so." He eyes his son's whiskey bottle. It's a boring, pedestrian drink. There's no history to be given, no prestige to the brand. It's something anyone can buy and expect the same experience over and over again. What a waste of good gil. He sips his Wineport vintage to still his distaste.

"Zaza. Da da. Dad." Toto sighs. "It's not the end of the world. Even if it is, someone will save said world."

"You can't assume such things."

"I can. Even if the assumption is wrong, what good will breaking from my norms do me? What? Should I… panic? Cry? Hah! Maybe blow my share of the family fortune at the Saucer." The younger man rubs his hands. "Gonna bleed out the Mandervilles through Cactpot, you watch me, I'll have a mountain of plushies. Oh, maybe that's how I'll win Yoki to here. I'll get another bloody carbuncle toy." He laughs for a moment, but there's little glee to it. Those three chirps from his throat should be shared, not lorded. He pulls the latter off as he breathes away the false mirth. "I miss her here. She always was better at upsetting you than me."

"Because you don't need to be what she needs to, Toto." Zazamato stares deep into his wine, cradled in both hands. The room's dim enough that the red can't even provide a proper reflection, just faint lighting from lamps and the fireplace. Still, it's more than can be seen outside the window. There's just the black of the night out there, showing naught save wind shoving hard into the silhouettes of trees.

"I'll never pretend to understand what you mean there. What exactly do I need to be?"

"A businessman. An heir. Someone capable and affable both. Of those things, you've pulled off the heir by blood alone -- would that you could put the effort to present yourself to a partner and cement it through love."

"Listen," Totolili starts with a chuckle. "I normally like talking to you, but you're the last person who should teach me about love."

"Everything I do is for love," Zazamato pushes back with a short-lived glare. "Enough of that, though. Of. Those. Things. You're only seen as affable through-."

"Let me guess. My failing? Repeatedly? And wearing a winning smile through it all?"

Zazamato pauses. "I would have said it kinder."

"Funny, I'd figure you'd say it crueler."

"More factually. Eloquently."

There's quiet before Toto whispers to himself. "Long words are the death of kindness. No one ever talks big if they're doing you a favor." The quiet returns for ten full seconds, then Toto straightens himself. "Hold on, I don't do it often, let me try. I'll impress you." Toto shifts in his seat, splaying fingers at his father. He swallows into an 'ahem'. "Your constant profession that my dearest and most beloved sibling need be something beyond my kin is a thought that irks me to no end. She's to inherit nothing beyond what I choose to give her when the rest of the family dies off of natural causes. She's not made to wed into another family for protection and alliance. And I know you and mom both tried breaking her into being a mage of some sort. What exactly is her purpose you've decided? I'm unaware, and I doubt she knows."

"Of course she doesn't know!" Zaza blurts back. "It's not her place to-"

"She shouldn't know about what her dad wants from her?"

"No. I promise you, the knowledge would break her. It breaks me."

"Well, forget your obsession with being vague and ominous, she'll know what her brother wants from her the moment she shows up here... or the moment this damn storm ends and I can get in touch with her."

"Oh. So you would lecture me on my intentions for her, then proclaim your own?"

"Yeah, I'll give her the cruelty of a hug. I could use one. She probably needs it." He pauses to sip whiskey. "It's weird, by the way, to say you have intentions for anyone."

The storm outside abates for a moment. The stars above give their glimmer of hope through the swirling eye betwixt all the clouds. Zazamato exhales sharply, less for air's sake, more to just give his body some sort of release valve for the tension. His next breaths come easier. "I agree. You should be more openly affectionate to her. I can't. It's too much. She's… let me down in too many ways, and none of them her fault. I am to blame."

Totolili pauses for a moment. He was fully ready to take a sip, but a father's admission of any wrongdoing is a full chug. He savors the flavor for a moment. "Well, we're stuck in this manor until the storm abates. I'm not going to learn your magic, I've given up on begging you for that shite. Is it that, though? Did you want some sort of sorcery student for a kid? You can either tell me about it and open up about your 'intentions' and 'expectations', or I'm going to tell you about how I'm going to fulfil my duties as an 'heir' by seducing one of the family servants."

"You are not serious. The only one you actually cared for is assigned to your sister's personal abode. You forced my hand."

"Oh, right, yeah, someone's personal attendant wouldn't come with them to safety during… what did you call it? The end of the world?"

"… You are not pursuing a maid."

"The uniform is amazing."

"Totolili. You. Are. Not-"

"Menphina's blessings, dad."

The storm's eye blinks.

#ffxivwrite2024 #ffxivwrite #yoki yokiki #write2024 #endwalker spoilers

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star--joy · 2 years ago

Note

For the ask game, "Can you squeeze us in somewhere?" with Gilmore/Vax/Kiki? :D

This is just pure fluff. Absolutely tooth-rotting sweetness. I love this pairing.

Just to specify, Gilmore and Keyleth are in a queerplatonic relationship in basically everything I write, and they both date Vax.

Prompt list: vexahlia-de-rolo.tumblr.com/post/703716707800367104

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 828

Originally posted: 12/15/22

Ao3 link: archiveofourown.org/works/43638363

Gilmore is in the process of standing from his desk to close up shop when he hears a customer come in, the bell to his store dinging clearly.

He presses his lips together. Today has already left him behind schedule, and technically, Gilmore’s Glorious Goods closed three minutes ago. A customer is, for the first time, the last thing he wants.

Still, it’d be bad for business to turn away someone with coin.

Plastering a wide grin on his face, Gilmore peeks out of his office and into the main store. “Welcome, wonderful customer, to Gilmore’s Glori—” he cuts himself of as his eyes land on the forms of Vax and Keyleth, sheepishly hesitating by the entrance. “Oh, thank the gods. I did not want to deal with more customers today.”

Vax smiles, pulling Keyleth further inside. They’re still in adventuring gear, messy with dirt and sweat, but they don’t look injured, much to Gilmore’s relief. He can deny it all he wants, but his beloveds getting hurt always pushes him into a bit of a panic. “Who says we’re not here to buy, Shaun?” Vax asks. It doesn’t go unnoticed that an exhaustion hides behind his playful tone. Their latest adventure, which they’re back from a day early, must have taken a lot of energy.

“Call it a boyfriend’s intuition,” Gilmore chuckles, pulling him in for a kiss. Vax melts under the attention.

“It’s bad business to send a customer away empty-handed,” Keyleth quips. “Also, hi Gil.”

Without fully leaving Vax’s embrace, Gilmore holds out an arm so Keyleth can press herself into his side, almost dumping her weight on him. It’s alright; his back can take a bit of discomfort. “You two are much more than customers.”

“Well, we do require a bit of attention. Do you have any in stock?” Vax hums, nuzzling his face into Gilmore’s neck.

“I certainly do, my dears.” With a bit of magic, he turns the sign for his store around to display the ‘closed’ side.

“Can you squeeze us in somewhere, then? I know you have a busy schedule.” Vax presses a kiss to his shoulder along with the words.

Gilmore laughs. “Believe me, you are a welcome distraction from all my work. Come, let’s get you into something more comfortable.” He moves to guide them upstairs, causing Keyleth to startle awake. She’d begun to doze off leaning against him.

“Huhwazit?” she mumbles, rubbing her bleary vision away. “M’tired.”

“I can see that,” Gilmore agrees, kissing her vibrant red hair, tangled and frizzy from hard work. She smiles, returning the favor with a blind press of her lips to his forehead.

Vax chuckles. He’s more awake, if only slightly. “We’re going to bed, Kiki.”

“M’kay,” she agrees, stumbling in the direction of the stairs that lead into the apartment section of Gilmore’s store. Vax doesn’t let her get far, swooping the druid off her feet so he can cradle her to his chest and carry her the rest of the way. Gilmore can tell he almost throws his back out with the act, but he has no right to criticize when he does that very thing, occasionally.

Together, they make their way to their shared apartment. Vax is quick to drop Keyleth on the bed and then collapse in after her, a long groan leaving him. “Gods, I’ve missed your bed, Shaun.”

Keyleth makes a noise of agreement, burrowing under the heaps of blankets.

“It’s missed you, too,” Gilmore says. “As have I.”

Vax smiles, shimmying further into the warm covers. “Mh hm. Always miss you. Come here.”

“Let’s get you out of this armor, first,” Gilmore hums, undoing Vax’s many buckles and buttons and clasps and why the fuck does he need so many things? The half-elf tries to help where he can, but his tired, clumsy fingers hinder more than assist. “Let me take care of you, little bird.”

And Vax lets him, too tired to really do anything else. In a few minutes, Gilmore has wrapped him in a fuzzy robe and properly tucked the sheets up to cover all of him.

Then he moves onto Keyleth, already fast asleep. At least she doesn’t wear so much armor. It’s easy to work her out of her dirty, sweat-soaked dress and into some pajamas. She barely even stirs as he does it.

“Now will you join us?” Vax hums, surprising Gilmore. He hadn’t realised the rogue was still awake.

He grins, shirking off his robes and throwing on a sleep shirt. “Of course. Would you like to tell me about whatever’s got you so exhausted?”

Vax scoots aside to let Gilmore into the bed, settling into his usual position of spooning his body around Keyleth’s. She makes a happy little hum. “Tomorrow. Big story. You’ll love it. Sleep, now.”

Laughing, Gilmore tucks Vax in his embrace. “Alright, pretty bird. Get some rest.”

In just seconds, Vax has done just that, and Gilmore follows not long after him.

#Vax #Vax'ildan #Critical Role #Keyleth #Shaun Gilmore #Vaxmore #Vaxleth #crit role #critical role fic #crit roll fic #Critical role fanfic #Crit role fanfic #Critical Role Fanfiction #Crit role fanfiction

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glitteringaglarond · 2 years ago

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And Frodo when he saw her come glimmering in the evening, with stars on her brow and a sweet fragrance about her, was moved with great wonder, and he said to Gandalf: 'At last I understand why we have waited! This is the ending. Now not day only shall be beloved, but night too shall be beautiful and blessed and all its fear pass away!'

I love how Frodo has suffered so deeply from the fear of the darkness and the night, and when he sees Arwen he finally is able to see the night as being something beautiful and blessed once again.

The granddaughter of Gil-Estel and the Evenstar of her people carries within her such hope and light that she is able to banish the darkness from Frodo's heart, at least for a time. She carries with her all of the history that is her family's legacy, and she brings it forward into the present with the grace of Luthien, the strength of Idril, the determination of Earendil, and the kindness of Elrond. She is exactly the Queen that Gondor - and Frodo - needs.

There is not a lot of content about Arwen, but what exists truly paints an image that I love dearly.

#lotr newsletter #newsletter april 23 #my op #arwen

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saltygilmores · 2 years ago

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Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, Season 2, Episode 7 ("Like Mother, Like Daughter")

The episode opens with Rory and Lorelai insulting each other's taste in music.

LOL, poor Dido, what did she ever do to you Lorelai? #IWantToThankYouu

Dido reference AND a Discman in the first 5 minutes of the episode. Be still my little Millennial heart.

Rory sitting down to enjoy two slices of white bread with no filling (served on fine china) is one of my favorite moments from this series and another fine example of Rory's bizarre eating quirks. Given that in a previous episode Rory was practically eating a Thanksgiving meal in the cafeteria, this must be some sort of special theme day at Chilton. Prison Lunch Day. Or Public School Lunch Day. Rory's Two Slice Tuesday is unfortunately interrupted by the guidance counselor looking to have a little chat. GC won't say why she needs to see Rory but she needs to see her as soon as possible, then tells her this discussion is going to be long enough to make her late for her next class. I once again am envious of Rory's visible lack of anxiety/blissful naivete. I want to live in the clouds like Rory does. No "We need to talk, but not yet, and I won't tell you why, so eat your lunch and just let the anticipation stew the whole time" in the history of ever has had a good outcome but Rory is just smiling and strolling along her merry way and somehow not hurking up her Prison Sandwich. I had such a visceral reaction to this one-time, unimportant Guidance Counselor character that my review began to turn into something of a trauma dump and I had to reign it in, a bit. As a 12-14 year old whenever I saw a "counselor" or school psychologist approaching to "have a little chat" while I was alone (because I was being tortured by bullies and deeply depressed and these same psychologists were doing fuck all to combat it), and they would always use that same sickly sweet, phony, passive aggressive voice and language like this lady here. My fight or flight response would kick into high gear.

Rory Gilmore? OUR Rory Gilmore? Social behavior? Not Tristan? Or Paris?

Alright lady, you need to leave my poor friendless girl alone. Let her chill alone with her bread slices and fruit cup and her novels and let her listen to Dido on her Discman without interference.

Oh Lady, you did NOT just come for my girl's Discman. DISCMAN. Walkman is for CASSETTE TAPES. Lady: When we write recommendations to a University on behalf of a student, the student's social skills are a big part of it. Lemme get this straight, Rory is constantly being harrassed (and her sexual purity being bought into question) on a near daily basis by Paris, Tristan, Madelyn and Louise and so homegirl here decides she's better off chilling alone at lunch and it's HER fault and she won't get into college? Ayup, this is pretty much of a mirror of my own life in the same time period. Schools just did not give a fuckall about student's wellbeing and mental health and put the blame on innocent students like Rory. *more war flashbacks*

But in the real world, Rory would get eaten alive socially in a big college, so that much is true.

Alright lady. Kindly, from the bottom of my heart, lovingly...get bent. Rory: "Loners are those guys you see walking around wearing out of date clothing, they tend to carry a duffel bag, with god knows what inside!"

Lady: Loners come in all shapes and sizes, even pretty girls. Whoa, lady!!

Rory: I don't suppose there is a Walkman/ reading lunch time club I could join is there? Me: Form one and I'll join you. Us friendless losers trying to avoid passive aggressive guidance counselors need to stick together. Lorelai: What does she expect you to do? Rory: I guess that means going up to strange kids at school and saying "hey, mind if I awkwardly butt in where I don't belong and don't want to be?" My heart breaks for Our Rory Gil. Lorelai: Chilton is a cult! Yeah, maybe, but your beloved Stars Hollow is also a cult, which is compromised of many smaller sub-cults. Kirk Job: Car Mechanic

Lorelai: How dare she do this to you? Rory: It wasn't just her, it was Charleston's suggestion. Of course it was. These Passive Aggressive Counselors and their superiors making lives of their already miserable students even more miserable always worked in teams. I just want to point out again (sort of repeating myself here) that this lady did only minimal probing into WHY Rory might prefer eating lunch alone. Kirk: I couldn't help but overhear. I ate lunch by myself and carried a duffle bag and I turned out just fine. R&L:

Sure he's a grown man with night terrors who lives with his mother, but for a small town with limited employment opportunites Kirk somehow manages to find work whenever he needs it and seems content with his life (and eventually finds love), so don't despair girls. Lorelai wants to go down to Chilton to give PAGC and Charleston a piece of her mind, good luck with that. As I'm watching this show for the fourth time, I'm a jaded chain smoker and no longer blissfully naive and expecting that Rory will suddenly propel through the social stratosphere at PAGC's suggestion.

Portrait of author on her fourth Gilmore Girls rewatch.

I already know that by the time she graduates high school Rory has not made a single new friend at Chilton (besides Paris, arguably) OR outside of school in Stars Hollow, and I also know that by the time she graduates college Rory has still not made a single new friend besides Paris (who is more like her wife at that point anyway, and no I don't count those two bozos they tacked on in a desperate move near the end, Lucy and Hailey or whatever the hell their names were, who cares), and by the time she's 34 in A Year in the Life she still has not made one single friend that anyone is aware of. Okay, okay, fine, I guess we can count Marty as her friend. But my memories of what actually went on there are too fuzzy to opine on. Lorelai to Charleston: I'm here to talk about this ridiculous accusation that Rory is a loner and that's somehow a bad thing. Oh come on, how is it ridiculous, your daughter is absolutely is a loner and an introvert and she only has one friend, one she's known since childhood, but yes, it's not necessarily a bad thing as long as she's happy. Lorelai: I raised Rory to do what she wants, as long as it doesn't hurt someone else.

#JusticeForLindsay Rory could have had a nice new friend in Lindsay... Unlike most Chilton parents, Lorelai has to take precious time off from work at a real job to meet with HMC to discuss a pressing matter involving her daughter, but HMC instead admonishes Lorelai for her lack of parental participation at the school and pressures her into joining some dopey club with a bunch of dopey Chilton Moms. Lorelai leaves the meeting. Rory was barely mentioned. Lorelai goes home to Rory and embellishes a lie/jokey joke about how hard she fought HMC in Rory's defense (she did no such thing, because she was barely given the chance to speak by HMC).

Two Slice Tuesday With A Side Of Fruit continues. Ugh, there's Francie (Francine?) in the back. Fuck. I did not care for this dumb mean-girls/Puffs storyline they had going through most of this season. Another one of The Agonies I'm not looking forward to.

This must be the fancy table, where nobody is partaking in Two Slice Tuesday.

I think the Chilton administration should look into more pressing issues, like why this high schooler is a 45 year old named Patricia.

#gilmore girls #rory gilmore #lorelai gilmore #Denise Rewatches Gilmore Girls #Gilmore Girls Season 2 #every gilmore girls high school extra is over 30 #they don't fuck around at Chilton and leave people back #like mother like daughter #white bread #prison lunch

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fivekrystalpetals · 2 years ago

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Not having your live reading of Pandora Hearts will be sad ! I loved seing your analysis, I'm happy you enjoyed it :3

Awwww thank you so much ❤!! yes it’s gonna be so sad for me too to not have my weekly live screaming sessions,, nooo this masterpiece of a story got over ;_; as they say, every good thing has to come to an end (nooooo~) so we gotta enjoy it till it lasts ;_; [I want to reread it again, but not anytime now... I need time to recover, sadly it seems I am getting increasingly upset and frustrated seeing A Certain Someone’s logic and arguments so I need some time to get over it and read again with a clearer mind; lol I generally don't get this upset over a fictional character but this guy’s character resonate a lot with someone ik ig that’s why I associate one with the other in my mind idk]

Break continues to be my favorite character which is honestly a surprise bc I tend to change my favorite midway through the series (I am not faithful shhh); Lottie and Lacie come a close second (well-written female characters tho they had not enough screen time (at least not for me, I wanted to see more of them!), they have lots of gaps and flaws I can develop on in my mind and in my fics if I ever post anything)

The two Alices, Oz and Gil: they are my babies now I adopted them, already signed adoption papers and all 💪 (once again, a surprise bc I hardly ever care about the main characters but these four are just... made-to-be-loved how dare anyone hurt them?!?!? *looking at a Certain Someone 🔪🔪* I just wish we saw more of Alyss and her thoughts, likes, dislikes etc. before the end. Since Cheshire loved her but was dead scared of our Alice, Alyss must have craved for meat less lol)

Fun fact: my favorite arc in Pandora Hearts still remains *drumroll* Headhunter Arc my beloved <3

not only was it mochijun’s super self-indulgent glamorous-makeover-for-all-my-characters arc but also has some of the best cliffhangers, plot twists and lore—humpty-dumpty (this chain damn!), Fianna’s house and their eerie ritual of making contractors out of little homeless kids, the doings of Isla Yura, his cult of Jack worshippers and the Nightrays (except Elliot ofc) all gave me chills and thrills, kept me to the edge of the seat,, say, if you see, I have less live drafts for that arc, it’s because... I was so invested in the story I couldn't even bother to pause and log on to tumblr; I just had to get to the end. It was like a standalone, little whodunit+thriller story arc with Eliot as the detective/protagonist set out to investigate his family’s curse ;_; and then the final reveal of the actual criminal (Retrace 61) 😭 (something I had guessed at in the beginning from Lottie’s words but the rat is just that good at distracting us from the truth =_=)

The rest of the story is, well, do I need to explain aghfhshfg why is this story so compact and coherent and filled with so much foreshadowing right from the first panel of the Retrace 1 that it still gives me goosebumps (I was actually talking about Retrace 76/77 with my friend (no, not specifying names or giving out spoilers, she hasn’t read PH yet and I am slowly luring her in with a carrot into this rabbit hole)—kinda like: See? I think I have uncovered a huge conspiracy theory— you know the suspected immortals in our world? I think they never die but go full Benjamin Button mode back and forth! She is super interested to know more and I am waiting to cast The Question: *conspiratorial tone* Do you wanna read something with a plot like that?)

ahhhh lol I was rambling but thank you so much for sticking around with me til the end, reading my analysis and posts (most of them were my incoherent screams fgsghghsj) and for this ask! It was so sweet of you <3 <3 And although I ran out of my live drafts, I do plan on writing a lot on the other characters too (in fact, I have three posts—character analysis of sorts—about Oswald, Gil, Vince and the Baskervilles in general—in my drafts and then, a few others in plans.) I will also be screaming (and probs writing fics bc what else to do when a ship takes its roots inside your head) about my favorite ship ahem ahem, which no one but me likes 😭😭, so that too.

So no worries, PH brainrot is going strong! my reactions on tumblr is actually minimal,, only about 10% of how much of a nuisance I was with people here irl at Certain Points in the story lmaohgjsgj

#pandora hearts #asks #anon #may-answers #thank you for this ask!#glad you enjoyed reading my posts ❤#sorry i am answering this a little late but i was rather sick over the week #and only now am i opening desktop tumblr #also i cut down many of my posts and deleted some of my rants and character critical posts #after that one post i wrote about reim and people started vagueing about me in main tags *shrugs*#(btw i haven't changed my mind about that lol i still hold him responsible for cough cough someone-important's death cough cough)#so what i really posted is a lot of percent less than what i started out to write gjshjgkskl

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tarnishedxknight · 15 days ago

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It was a small blessing to Gylfie that Mithran needed sleep, despite being a mix of hume and Occurian. She... needed time alone to think. To process everything that had happened so rapidly, and the uncertainty that now lay before them. And... she needed to think about Mithran.

She still couldn't understand how Vayne learned of Caelen, let alone that she had been courting him. The only explanation that made sense was that he had his suspicions about her "disappearances", regardless of the explanations that she was sent out on various errands or small missions, and sent someone to follow her. But, even then... she would have noticed if she had been followed. Hell, Gabranth would have noticed, somehow. Still, if someone had followed her and seen she was visiting Old Archades, and somehow learned the truth of Cael Skjult... it was no wonder it sent Vayne over the edge. But it was a reason she still couldn't accept with confidence, even if it was the only one that made sense.

Gods above, thinking back on Vayne still made her skin crawl. He had gotten her alone, which... was nothing unusual, as unfortunate and horrific as that was, and confronted her about it. He accused her of treason, that by courting the enemy - the viable heir of Dalmasca, no less - she made herself an enemy of Archadia. Gylfie had denied it, claiming he was delusional and speaking nonsense, and told him no one would believe him. But it was the way he smiled at that that made her blood run cold. The way he reminded her she was his and no one else's, that this would be their little secret, that made her realize what was going to happen - if it were not already too late.

She fled to Old Archades as soon as she could, taking with her a traveling pack, a pouchful of gil, and her sword, and bid a painful farewell to her beloved mentors. As much as she adored them, held pride in her station, and loved her Empire, she... made the decision to put Caelen first. She had made the mistake once before to put her career over her heart, and she was not willing to make that mistake twice. Not when it was her fault his life was at risk, and not when it meant subjecting herself further to Vayne's whims.

And she had been too late.

Her dear, sweet Caelen, had already been found, and was almost killed on Vayne's order. Although he had not died, he... he was still no more. Not as he was. Not... as himself.

No, Mithran was both Caelen and Munoh, and still his own being. Caelen's love for her was still there, and he had been willing to flee with her as far away as they could, but...

Gylfie pressed her trembling hands against her mouth as her eyes welled with tears. The quiet crackle of the fire mixed with the sounds of insects in the otherwise quiet night. Mithran had needed sleep - they both did, really - but she had volunteered to keep first watch. She had already come close to losing him, and she was not going to put him at risk again, no matter how powerful he now was. She would stand watch - be the guard dog she always had been - and let him regain his strength.

But, oh gods, how could she forgive herself? She must have been careless somewhere along the way for Vayne to have discovered Caelen's existence and their courtship, and it was Caelen who paid the price. How... could Mithran forgive her? He was both her beloved and Munoh, and while he seemed to hold no ill-will towards her, she couldn't help but wonder if it was Caelen's gentle heart getting in the way of Munoh's desire to protect him. They were an Occurian, for Faram's sake! Surely they saw the signs? Knew it would be because of her that Caelen had been found? And with Mithran being both...

She couldn't stop her tears as she swallowed back a choked sob - careful to remain silent as she struggled to pull herself together. Gylfie couldn't deny that her love for Caelen remained for Mithran, even though she had accepted he was not the same. And that love made it all the more painful, because if Mithran blamed her, what else was she to do? She knew she could never return to Archadia - she had no idea what would be told of her disappearance, or if Vayne would reveal the truth. No, she refused to wed Vayne and become his pet, for that would be her only option if she tried to go home. And she could not put Drace and Gabranth at risk for her own foolish actions, if she had not done so already. Oh, how she desperately prayed that they would be left alone, and that Vayne would not take his anger out on them. She had already gotten one person she loved hurt - she couldn't bear if she got her family hurt as well.

Where would they go, if Mithran stayed? Was anywhere safe for him now? Oh, everything that now burdened her mind and heart were things she knew she needed to discuss with him, but it all felt too much. Gylfie... had been nothing more than a loyal hound to the Empire she once loved, and now she felt... lost. She knew not what to expect of Mithran, knew not what to expect of their future, and...

Her throat clenched tightly as she still forced herself to be silent, and Gylfie buried her face into her hands as she hunched over herself. Her body trembled, unable to stop her tears as she struggled to pull herself together before she disturbed Mithran. All she had to do was wait for the morn, when they could eat what rations she brought and finally talk about what happened, but morn felt so far away, and she never felt more alone.

(( @disillusionedjudge for that au we were just talking about! Maybe this could be them before they go to Dalmasca, and I'm thinking maybe Venat found out about Caelen for Vayne? Maybe they sensed Munoh and followed them, and things spiraled out from there?))

@disillusionedjudge

It had all seemed like just another day... until it wasn't anymore. Caelen was happily working in his shop when a pair of rather uncouth gentlemen entered. Munoh had a bad feeling from the start about those two, but soon they were to learn that it was not the two men that had raised suspicions, not at first. It was the presence of another Occurian. By the time Munoh had realized Venat was near, the two men had descended upon Caelen. They were imperial guardsmen, of the elite sort kept usually within the palace walls, ordered by Vayne and guided by Venat to the shop and home of Munoh's dear, dear friend.

Venat attempted to interfere, to keep Munoh at bay so they could not assist Caelen as he tried to defend himself. A battle ensued, one of violent and sharply charged energies, but Munoh was the stronger. Venat was the youngest of all the Occuria, impulsive yet and inexperienced. Munoh was the elder of the two, magically stronger and more adept, having amassed far more energy during their long life than the youngling Venat could hope to compare to. To protect themself, Venat had retreated, but the damaged was done. Caelen had been mortally wounded. The assassination had been completed.

In a griefstricken rage, Munoh had killed the two assassins. No, not killed. They obliterated them. Blinding light passed through their bodies, burning away flesh and vaporizing bone. It was as if they had never existed, and the world was better for that, but... oh, to see their sweet, kind, gentle friend lying on his back, a deep wound to his heart, coughing and quickly drowning in his own blood...

Something in Munoh flared, swelled, cried out... with the most powerful agony and grief a being could have. The roof was blown clean off Caelen's shop from the force of it, the violent swirling of Munoh's energy as they began to amass it even more, drawing it from the environment and-... Without the roof, the sunlight poured in, illuminating Caelen as if, in its own way, grieving for him itself. Oh, how Caelen had loved the sun. Without much hesitation, Munoh began drawing from the heat and light of the sun, their aura swelling and growing so bright that for miles the beacon of grief but also love and friendship could be seen.

This... This had not been done in millennia. It was culturally forbidden, now, within the ranks of the Occuria. And Munoh... currently did not care. Swollen to bursting within a charged, swirling, violent cloud of pure solar and magical energy, Munoh reached out to Caelen, such as he was now. Their beloved hume was leaving his body, detaching and leaving it as a soul ripped from its vessel, and Munoh... wrapped him in the warmth and light of themself. Wrapped and infused. No, he would not die. Not like this. Not when he'd done nothing wrong, when he did not deserve it, when he'd found love, when all he'd wanted was to just exist in peace and be damned the rest of the world if this was how they were going to treat him!

No! No, I will protect you! I will sacrifice for you! Come with me! Let me save you...

When the light had somewhat subsided, Munoh was gone, at least to hume eyes. Their fused spirit was not bonded to Caelen's, having strengthened and empowered the hume's form, helping the soul to stay anchored within it. A bit taller, physically stronger, magically radiant... the being opened its eyes, and-

Slowly, he sat up, and then stood. Wings burst from his back, stretching to their full span before arching over his shoulders and above his head. A glow surrounded him, golden and warm as the sun, and where there had been a bleeding wound and a shirt soaked with blood a moment ago, now a set of golden armor slowly sprawled across his body, made naturally from his own energy, like the carapace of a sacred scarab. The being smiled, feeling warm, loved, and... happy. They had been saved. They had saved. For all the right reasons, they existed. For all the right reasons, they had sacrificed.

Feeling Munoh's presence dissipate, Venat had crept back to the scene, hoping to confirm that their own chosen hume's mark had been eliminated. Upon seeing the new being, Venat knew exactly what he was. They were instantly rattled, intimidated, scared... and they retreated as quickly as they had come. Yes, the hume was gone, that was all that Vayne needed to know, and what was now in his place was... forbidden. As forbidden as they, to be sure, for Heretics were no better than the Bonded in the eyes of the True Circle. Venat did not have to condemn this being... they did not have to place themself in danger. The Circle of Occuria would do so themselves... in good time.

The being eyed the pool of blood on the ground introspectively. Sadness crept in, but... all was not lost. Thanks to his own sacrifice, a life was saved. Thanks to the power of friendship and love, he was saved. He was a being made of two, one mind but two souls, a blend of the purest kind.

He knew why this had happened, and yet he bore Gylfie Ynarra no ill will. To some extent, he had anticipated this day coming, and yet somehow it had still been so unexpected in the moment. He would wait here, either for more to come and confirm this deed of sheer cruelty, or... or for her. He loved her, still. Admired her, was grateful to her for loving them. So many emotions inside so powerful a form. The being sat nearby, feeling no sense of urgency as he waited. A few locals peeked in, having seen the blinding light that had emerged from the shop and, upon seeing him, went wide-eyed and mumbled about the wrath of the gods, quickly fleeing. That was alright. Although he hated to disturb the innocent, perhaps it was for the best right now. Making a scene would do no one any good.

While he waited, the being chosen a name for himself. Mithran. Fitting yet abstract, strong yet soft. Yes, it suited him. And when someone did arrive, he looked to Gylfie and immediately sought to comfort her, for he knew she would not understand anything other than that her love had been murdered. Not so, Mithran attempted to explain. I am not gone, only evolved.

Of course he had agreed to run away with her. He loved her and desired to protect her, not only bodily but... protect her heart as well. He knew she would need time, and Mithran was infinitely patient. The violent, angry, justice-driven side of him that had come from Munoh was quieted now. Caelen's gentle kindness had ruled this night, as they'd sat beside a fire, having left their old lives and choosing each other over hatred and cruelty.

Oh, but the events of the day and his own turbulent creation had left Mithran rather tired. At sundown, that exhaustion had taken sharp hold of him, and he'd needed to sleep. He trusted Gylfie to keep watch, and it was not long before he was fast asleep, his wings arched around him like a half-open cocoon.

When she began crying, though, it was as if someone had loudly shattered glass. The sound was something that cut through Mithran's rest and had him blinking awake, sitting up to peer at her with pensive concern in his golden eyes. "My love..." he whispered, going to sit beside her. His hand gently rubbed at her back. "It will be alright. We will support each other. Fear not," he said, his voice soft and warm, as Caelen's had been. "Would you welcome it if I were to hold you?" Mithran then asked, knowing that it would take time for Gylfie to acclimate to her lover being... changed. He did not want to assume that she was alright with anything at the moment, choosing instead to give her the time and space she needed, but... right now... he desperately wanted to comfort her...

#disillusionedjudge #tw: blood #tw: murder #oc muse: mithran #{ a sword forged from ashes } ᵃʳᶜʰᵃᵈⁱᵃⁿ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ #oc muse; munoh #oc muse: caelen #guest muse: venat #{ the darker corners of ivalice } ᵐᵃⁱⁿ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ ⁻ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ᵉᵈⁱᵗⁱᵒⁿ

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sansaorgana · 2 months ago

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— FADING LIGHT (II)

PART ONE ONCE UPON A DREAM (SAURON X MORETH)

PAIRING — Adar x fem!Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — After your daughter's choice to go down the dark path and to stay with her father, you leave to Mirkwood where you spend your days on grieving and rethinking the choice that you made. One day, King Oropher's guards catch an Orc who is believed to be a spy and you accompany the King during the interrogation. You find yourself befriending a creature you have never expected to have anything in common with and your own light begins to fade when you decide to go back to your family and join the darkness.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I have been asked quite a few times – incuding some anons – if I would write a part two to this fic and even though I was happy with the open ending of the first chapter, I also had an idea for this second part, so here we go! 😌 But considering the fact I am writing two multichapters at the moment (one is with Adar as well) and I am starting a job in a week, I doubt I'm going to write more parts to this story. 🥺

WORD COUNT — 7,970

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

FADING LIGHT (II)

You had tears in your eyes when you reached Mirkwood. You had just lost your daughter to the darkness and found out the most dreadful truth about your own husband whom you had been loving, admiring and missing for centuries. Of course you were crying.

You considered going back home to Mithlond but King Oropher in Mirkwood was expecting you after all the letters he had received from you and Gil-galad about the sickly state of your daughter. So, you decided to go to him instead, hoping that the seclusion of Mirkwood would serve you well in this difficult time.

The gates were opened in front of you and you rode your horse inside the well-hidden palace. You had not been there before but you had been given clear instructions on how to find the passing. Despite being King Oropher’s guest for the first time, it was not the first meeting of yours. You had met him on multiple occasions when there were meetings of the Elven elders. And even though you were not a part of any council, your age and wisdom often made you an advisor of the High King.

King Oropher was a proud man – he always had a problem with Gil-galad being the High King and above him. Actually, you were convinced that according to Oropher, he had no one above him in the Elven hierarchy. Still, he was your kin and a friend who would help in need just like every other Elf would do.

He greeted you himself when you dismounted your horse. His long, blond hair was waving in the air and a beautiful, wood crown was placed upon his head. You looked around and if you weren’t grieving, you would have to admit that this place was different from the other Elven realms in a wonderful way. It was… wilder and more raw.

“My King,” you bowed your head in front of him and he nodded, looking you up and down.

“My dear Lady (Y/N)... and where is your beloved daughter?” Was the very first question he asked.

“She…” You stuttered. You knew what to say, you had been preparing an excuse but now it did not make any sense. However, there was no time to come up with any new ones. “She passed away on the way, my King,” your lower lip trembled and eyes filled with fresh tears.

Oropher’s cold eyes filled with compassion and grief immediately. He was an Elf, after all, and no amount of pride could hide it away.

“I am so terribly sorry…” He gasped and put his hands on your arms to give you a little comfort. “What about her body? Have you buried her yourself?”

That was the question you dreaded. You had no idea what to say when asked about your daughter’s body.

“The illness… It did unspeakable things to my sweet Moreth,” your voice trembled as you confessed. This sentence was not truly a lie, after all. “I have given her a small funeral of my own. That was all I could do with… With what was left of her,” you added and Oropher nodded. So far, you could not spot any suspiciousness in him.

“I cannot imagine the pain you are going through,” he sighed. “We have been awaiting your arrival, I have prepared all the books that could help you to find the cure…”

“You are so thoughtful, my King,” you sniffled your tears back and looked down. “Can I perhaps… Stay here for a while? I do not think I can face Mithlond once again, so full of life and all my friends asking endless questions,” you explained. That part was also not a lie.

“You can stay here as long as you wish, dear friend,” Oropher nodded. “Perhaps the books will help you to find out the reason for your daughter’s illness. It might give you the peace of mind to know what happened,” he explained.

“Yes, thank you,” you bowed your head.

“I shall inform Gil-galad about your daughter’s passing and that you are about to stay here. Or would you rather do it?” Oropher furrowed his brows.

“No, please, my King, you do it,” you shook your head.

“Alright then. Follow me inside and my maids will show you to your chambers,” Oropher put his arm around you and then he squinted his eyes at your horse, which was being escorted to the stables now by one of his Elves.

“What is it, my King?”

“That horse has a mark of the father of the Orcs,” he pointed out and your heart skipped a beat at the mention of your husband. “Where did you get it?”

“Oh? I did not know that mark,” you explained. “I lost my horse after Moreth’s death. I did not chase him because I wanted to give her a burial. After that, I found this one in the forest. I thought it was a gift from the Valars so I could continue my journey,” you came up with a quick and swift lie.

Oropher seemed to believe you and you were scared of your own ability to deceive.

Weeks had passed. Months. You were nothing but a shadow around Mirkwood, wandering through its halls and spending most of your days in the library, pretending to read the books that had been prepared by Oropher.

You didn’t need to find out the reason for your daughter’s illness anymore. Everything was as clear to you as a day. So, most of the time, you were staring at the walls and ceilings, looking out through the window, wondering… Wondering where Moreth and Adar were at the moment, what were they doing. Had she changed even further? What did she look like now? What was she like? And the light of Valinor inside of her… Was it completely gone now?

You grieved the loss of your daughter but your foolish, naive heart, was still holding onto hope because, after all, she was not dead. You had been her mother for centuries and being a parent to her was one of your personality traits now. Losing it all of a sudden simply felt wrong.

When Moreth had been born, everyone had been saying to you that you would have a big family. That Adar and you had been born to become parents. Indeed, you had been devoted and loving – both of you. And when you and Moreth had been left alone, you had been trying to love her for the both of you. You had felt as if you had owed it to your husband, who had been defeated by Morgoth – so you had been thinking. Foolishly.

Adar had been in Moreth’s life for a few years only – which is nothing to an Elf. And yet, she had never forgotten him. She had always talked about him fondly and had been trying to do everything to cherish his memory. His influence on her had been short but very strong and you always loved that bond. You were convinced that the reason behind it was Adar’s love – perhaps Moreth had been raised by him only for a few years but she would never forget a love so strong.

Now, you cursed that love and you cursed that bond.

But you could not stop thinking of Adar as well – after all, you had a bond with him, too. For the past few centuries of missing and grieving him, he had been in the back of your mind while you had been making decisions or raising Moreth.

“Why can’t you stay, mother? We could be a family again.” You remembered Moreth’s plea. You remembered it over and over until it stopped being outrageous and became… tempting.

Not the darkness around your husband and daughter, not the life they wished to live but you craved to be in their presence. To be in your husband’s arms, which you had been missing for centuries. To keep your daughter close and be able to spend time with her every day. Who were you without your family? You felt as if without them your life had no purpose.

Giving advice to the High King, expanding your knowledge, serving in the Elven realms… None of that would make sense anymore. None of that would be worth it without your family by your side.

Still, the fact that you even considered going back to Moreth and Adar was enough to make you feel sick out of guilt. And so you looked and acted sick – so sick that Oropher began to be worried that your daughter’s illness was contagious. So worried that he was sending letters to Gil-galad that your grieving state was concerning. And you were receiving letters from the High King who was trying to make you see the meaning of this suffering and to cheer you up. It was not enough. It could never be without your daughter by your side.

“Being a carrier of the light is an honourable task but the light is often a burden, too. I want to be free of the shackles – no matter how virtuous they are,” Moreth had explained to you her decision. And now you understood her words. The light could be a burden – if you were not an Elf, the natural bearer of it, you would leave Mirkwood and look for your family.

“Stay with us,” Adar had pleaded right after confessing that you – alongside Moreth – were still everything to him. And you knew that it was Sauron’s illusion about your deaths that had pushed Adar into such a deep darkness. Your heart mourned for him and after seeing all the scars on his body, you could only imagine what pain he had suffered. You had nightmares at night about the tortures Morgoth and Sauron had put him through. You wanted to ease his pain.

He was still everything to you, too. He had always been. From the very first shy smile he had given to you in the courtyard after spotting you, with your hair waving in the wind and a flower crown in your hair, laughing at your friend's joke.

“You know very well that Moreth’s darkness does not come only from me,” he had told you and despite your denial – you knew that he had been right.

You had named your daughter Moreth – gloom. And a few people back in the day had mentioned to you how similar it sounded to the name Morgoth, which you had not even thought of while naming her. But perhaps it had been your intuition.

You had never discouraged Adar’s thirst for knowledge even if you had known the knowledge he had been seeking was forbidden. You had been pretending to not know but in fact, you had been jealous of his courage. You had always been curious about it yourself.

The Elves had spent centuries fighting the shadows. Of course the shadows fascinated you, too. You had to know your enemy and you wanted to understand it. But the longer you looked at the beast, the longer it was looking back.

Perhaps you could had prevented Moreth’s transformation. If you truly had been as pure as you posed to be – as you wished to be – you would had seen her sickness earlier. Or perhaps you had been too forgiving towards her thirst for forbidden knowledge – just like with her father.

Every day was a drag now and to know that even after death you would be separated for your husband and daughter were no longer welcome in Valinor… It was only making it worse.

On that day, your usual and boring routine was interrupted by the alarmed guards. You walked out of the library and curiously watched them whispering between each other and running to the gate. You could see that they were pretty concerned with the situation, so you walked closer to Prince Thranduil who was standing nearby, observing like you.

He was as handsome and stoic as his father – his back straightened, his hands clasped behind and his chin held high proudly. It was nearly funny but you were in no mood to laugh.

“What is happening, my Prince?” You asked with a small bow of your head.

One thing you did not like about Mirkwood was the atmosphere around Oropher and his family. Gil-galad was your High King and yet, you felt more comfortable around him. Like a friend. Being around Oropher and dealing with his family was forcing you to bow your head more often these days than you ever had before.

Prince Thranduil should be the one bowing to you and your wisdom, your knowledge and experience. But no, of course not. You were no Queen.

There was only one place where you would be a Queen. But of that you did not wish to think because it was nothing but the poison spreading throughout your already slightly corrupted heart.

When the heart got broken, the light could get inside through the cracks – that was what the Elves said often. But they never mentioned how easy it was for the darkness to slip in as well. Perhaps much easier, in fact.

“They caught an intruder, my Lady. An Orc,” Prince Thranduil informed you. “My father suspects he might be a spy because he was dangerously close to the gate.”

“I am on my way to interrogate him,” King Oropher walked past you in the corridor and you both bowed your heads in his direction. “Lady (Y/N),” Oropher looked at you, “do you wish to join me?”

You did not know what to answer. You were curious about the Orc. You were curious if it had anything in common with your husband. On the other hand, for the very same reason you wished to avoid this situation. However, you knew that you were already prolonging your stay in Mirkwood and saying no to anything simply felt wrong.

“Yes, my King, of course,” you nodded and followed him. “Why would you request my presence, though?” You asked.

“I know that Gil-galad often seeks counsel from you and he must have his reasons to,” he explained and you nodded.

You followed Oropher to his throne room and stood beside him. There were many guard Elves around as well for protection, holding their bows and arrows. It felt excessive since it was only one Orc they were talking about. They dragged him inside and you nearly pitied this creature because he looked a little scared and intimidated and he was alone and unarmed but treated like a sack of potatoes, thrown to the ground in front of Oropher.

“You are in front of King Oropher of Mirkwood. You will show him respect,” one of the guard Elves spat out while looking down with contempt at the Orc.

His small eyes looked up at the King but then they moved and they landed on you. For some reason, you felt as if you had seen that particular Orc before and now you could feel cold sweat running down your back. What if he reveals something about you?

The Orc bowed down in your direction and you moved uncomfortably as Oropher gave you an unpleasant look. His pride was hurt and everyone in the room could sense it.

“My Lady, all respect to my Lady,” the Orc added and you pursed your lips, hoping he would not say anything more because it was awkward enough. If he called you like that one from the camp – Lady Mother – you would have a lot of explaining to do.

“This is the King, you filthy Orc!” The guard pulled him by the ear and forced him to look upon Oropher.

“Uruk,” you fixed him and everyone laid their eyes on you once more. You bit your own tongue. Why had you said that? Well, you could not help feeling bad for this poor thing. He had not hurt anyone here, he had only been wandering around the gates.

“What are you saying, my Lady?” The guard barked at you.

“Uruk is the name they use for their kind. He is not even found guilty but only accused of being a spy, he deserves respect like every other prisoner,” you informed him.

“Is that the advice you give to Gil-galad? To respect the Orcs?” Oropher hissed at you quietly.

“How you treat the kin of your enemy – no matter how low their life form is – reflects who you are. You shall respect his rights not because of his nature but because of yours, my King,” you explained calmly.

“Very well then,” Oropher moved slightly on his throne. “Orc or Uruk, it does not matter to me. What matters to me is what were you doing here, creature? Are you a spy?”

“If I was, why would I say?” The Orc asked.

Well, the Uruk. Now, when you were the one preaching about such things, you should think of them as the Uruks as well, so you wouldn’t be a hypocrite.

“This is not a game,” the Elven guard kicked him and you looked away for a moment to avoid staring at such a violent scene.

“I am simply lost in the woods,” the Uruk explained. “My cousin lives nearby, I was visiting and I couldn’t find the path leading out of the woods,” he added and the Elves laughed.

“Are there any Uruks living nearby?” You asked King Oropher.

“Unfortunately,” he nodded.

“Why would he lie then? He does not look like a threat,” you pointed out.

“He does not,” Oropher agreed. “Either way, kill him,” he ordered so carelessly as if the order was not about someone’s life.

“Wait! He was not found guilty!” You protested as your eyes widened and everyone looked at you as if you were crazy. “Do you order to kill humans who are being found by your gates, too, my King?”

“Usually, after interrogating them, I send them back home,” he answered calmly but he was visibly outraged with your question. “He is not a human, though, is he?”

“No, he is not but he is a living being with blood in his veins and a heart pumping it throughout his body,” you said.

“The Orcs would kill you if it was you being captured by them, my Lady,” Oropher pointed out.

“We do not have to lower ourselves to their standards and if you wish to know, I have been captured by them with Moreth but they set us free when I told them about searching for the cure to help my daughter,” you lied. Of course that was not what had happened and you actually doubted it would but for some reason you really hoped to save this Uruk’s life.

Oropher was surprised to hear your story and so were the other Elves. He hesitated for a moment before waving his hand to dismiss the Uruk.

“Let him go then but make sure to escort him out of the lands belonging to my realm. Show him the path to take to get out of the woods,” he ordered and you sighed with relief. “Allow me to make this one exception in return for the exception your kin has shown to my friend – Lady (Y/N),” he looked at the Uruk and stood up from his throne.

Oropher approached you and grabbed you by your elbow gently to walk you out of the room. Once you were in the corridor, he gave you a stern look.

“Why did he bow for you?” He asked and you bit on the insides of your cheeks, thinking of an answer.

“Just because I defended his right to live does not mean I think highly of his kind. You do know what the Uruks are like, my King. I have no idea why he acted this way but I do think it was to spite you or to cause this very situation we are having at the moment – to plant the seed of mistrust between us,” you explained nonchalantly but this time Oropher did not seem to believe your lies so easily. “He was trying to deceive you,” you added.

“Perhaps you are the deceived one, my friend. You became their defender,” Oropher raises his eyebrow and let go of your elbow. “They served the Dark Lord.”

“It was long time ago and the Dark Lord is gone now. I simply felt sorry for him, he didn't look dangerous. I would not feel sorry for every single one of them,” you explained and Oropher kept staring at you in a way you were not approving of. You did not feel the need to explain yourself to him. “I think it is time for me to go back to Mithlond, my King,” you said. “This interrogation made me realise how dearly I miss our High King. He is my friend and he worries about me,” you added.

“Perhaps it is time for you indeed, my friend,” Oropher nodded and you smiled sadly. You knew that he was more than happy to hear the news after today’s situation. He just wanted to get rid of you.

“I shall go and pack myself,” you said.

“You wish to leave today already?” Oropher furrowed his eyebrows at the rush you seemed to be in.

“Why wait, my King?” You bowed your head and hurried to your chambers.

You were waiting in the courtyard for your horse to be brought to you and Oropher joined you to bid you farewell. He was calmer now than before and he even gave you a smile that seemed to be genuine and full of affection.

“Forgive my anger and confusion. You are a grieving woman who has lost her daughter recently and you perceive life in a different way now. I should have known better,” he explained.

“There is nothing to forgive, my King. I do not part our ways with any resentment towards you,” you assured him.

“It is such a shame we could not save your daughter,” Oropher changed the subject suddenly and you raised an eyebrow at him. “She was a great beauty, I remember her from Mithlond. Her long, black hair like her father's; waving in the air as her laughter filled the halls. And she had your eyes and your wisdom. Your melancholy, too,” he looked into your eyes and you smiled sadly. “I was thinking she would make an excellent bride for my son,” he added then and you were visibly surprised to hear such a revelation.

“Prince Thranduil?”

“Yes,” Oropher nodded with a smile. “I was thinking we could heal her and I would ask you to let her marry Thranduil in return for that favour,” he explained.

“So, you did not want to help me out of pure heart?” You asked.

“Oh, no, do not think so. If you said no, I would not do anything,” he assured you and you nodded. And even though you believed him, you did not like the fact that he had been planning to take your daughter away from you either way. You would never live in Mirkwood and he knew it. Yet, he wanted your daughter to spend her forever in this place.

“My time here is over for now,” you said when your horse was finally led to the courtyard from the stables and stood in front of you. You caressed his neck and hopped on him gracefully. “My King,” you looked down at him and bowed your head.

“Lady (Y/N),” Oropher nodded. “Please, let me remind you before you go that you will see your daughter and your husband again in Valinor,” he tried to make you feel better, not knowing how false his words were. “But do not hurry to go there yourself,” he added and you shook your head at him.

“Believe me, my King, I do not hurry,” you promised him and nodded one last time before ordering your horse to go.

You rode out of the Elven realm and hit the road leading out of Mirkwood. Just as you suspected – the Uruk was waiting for you at the crossroads. At the sight of you, he bowed his head again.

“My Lady,” he greeted you and you furrowed your brows at him.

“Are you following me, Uruk?” You asked him coldly while looking down at him from your horse. “Were you sent by my husband to follow me?”

“No, my Lady,” the Uruk shook his head. “By Lady Moreth,” he explained and your heart clenched in your chest at the mention of your daughter. Your sweet, beloved Moreth. She could not stop thinking of you just like you could not stop thinking of her.

“For how long have you been searching for me?” You inquired.

“I am not sure, my Lady. A few weeks, surely, but then I got lost in the woods,” he admitted with a hint of embarrassment. “It was an accident that I got caught, but you… You saved my life,” he bowed his head down again and you could hear that he was moved by your act.

“What is your name, Uruk?” You asked him. “Do you have names?” You wondered out loud.

“We do,” he nodded as he looked up at you again. “They call me Glûg, my Lady,” he introduced himself.

“Alright then, Glûg,” you nodded your head at him and moved slightly on your horse to make more space in the saddle. “You will take me back to your kin and to your Lord Father,” you told him because you didn’t expect him to deny you.

His small eyes sparkled at your words and he seemed to be genuinely excited about the idea, although when he approached the horse, you could already see he would struggle with hopping onto it. After a short while of hesitation, he took a step back.

“You ride, my Lady. I will walk,” he decided.

“Do not be daft, Glûg. We have a long road ahead of us,” you sighed and extended your hand to help him to mount your horse although you waited for him to actually dare to take it.

You could see he was shocked but so were you. You had never expected to touch any Uruk willingly, especially to help them to get on the same horse as you. And perhaps you could find Adar and Moreth yourself without his help but it felt wrong to just leave him behind.

Glûg was not only surprised but also a little intimidated and you could sense that he was not trusting you fully. After all, you were an Elf and there was no guarantee that you wouldn’t take him to Mithlond for example; where he would get tortured and killed. But despite feeling guilty towards Gil-galad and your other companions, your mind was made up. You chose your family over your friends – even if it meant going down a very dark and treacherous path.

“I do not have a whole day,” you teased and Glûg finally took your hand. It didn’t feel very pleasant to touch him but it was also better than you had imagined what it would be like to touch an Uruk. You waited for him to adjust himself behind you on the saddle before you ordered the horse to go. “Be careful back there. Us, Elves, do not ride carefully because we do not have to,” you told him and you could feel him grabbing the edges of the saddle. “You can hold onto my cloak if you must,” you allowed him.

“Yes, my Lady,” he nodded.

“Let us get out of Mirkwood first and then you will tell me where to go. South, I assume, but I want to know exactly where to go because I want to get there quickly,” you explained.

“Me too, my Lady. I miss my son,” Glûg admitted and you smiled to yourself although you were surprised.

“You have a son, Glûg?” You asked. “A wife?”

“Yes, I have a wife, too,” he nodded.

“I had no idea that Uruks had families,” you hummed to yourself.

“There are many mis… Mis…,” he struggled with the word.

“Misconceptions,” you gently reminded him. For some reason, you didn’t feel the need to be patronising with this one.

“Yes, that’s the word Lord Father uses sometimes,” Glûg’s voice sounded excited. “Why are you going to him, my Lady?”

“I am his wife,” you revealed. You didn’t want to tell him too much because it was your private matter.

“I know, I was there,” Glûg reminded you and you suddenly realised why his face looked so familiar. “I was the one who unchained you and Lady Moreth, my Lady,” he added and you nodded at his words, remembering very clearly now.

“You were the one who stopped your friend from hurting us. You told him that your Lord Father wouldn’t be happy about it because we were Elves,” you suddenly had a flashback of yet another memory. “Thank you, Glûg.”

“I want to serve Lord Father well,” he said to that.

“I am sure he is very pleased with you,” you assured him with a head nod and he didn’t say anything but he adjusted himself slightly in the saddle and dared to hold onto the hem of your cloak.

According to Glûg, it would take you about two or three days to get to Adar’s camp. Most of the Uruks were staying in a village with the humans who had decided to obey your husband. You only hoped that they hadn’t changed their location ever since Glûg had left it to look for you.

You were an Elf and you were sure your body could handle the lack of sleep for two or three days but Glûg obviously needed it, therefore you decided to stop for the night. Your horse needed its rest, too, since it was not any Elven breed that could handle longer distances with less rest.

You caressed the horse’s mane as you watched Glûg start the fire to warm himself up. He looked up at you and offered for you to come over and get warm, too, but you shook your head.

“I do not need it,” you assured him. Even though your body was not radiating so much warmth anymore, it was not like you actually felt any coldness.

He didn’t need much to sleep. He just laid down on the grass and began snoring not long after. You sighed and sat by the tree. Even though he seemed to be deep asleep, you still did not trust him enough to fall asleep yourself. You only allowed him to ride behind you on the horse because you knew that his dagger had been taken away from him back in Mirkwood.

You kept watching the stars and praying quietly to the Valars, hoping they would understand your decision. And when you spotted the fire dying out, you put more wood into it, so Glûg wouldn’t get too cold on that night. You were not scared of the light attracting the enemies because in these lands, you were mostly scared of… well, the Uruks.

And you actually met a few on the next day. They jumped out on the road, threatening you in Black Speech and shouting obscenities. Then, they saw Glûg emerging from behind you on the horse and they looked at each other, confused.

“What are you doing up there, Glûg?” One of them asked. “Have you found yourself a new lady? Where did you get an Elf stupid enough to want you?” He laughed and others followed.

“You idiot!” Glûg shouted at him. “This is Lord Father’s wife!” He scolded his friends and they all closed their mouths before bowing their heads so much they nearly touched the ground.

“Forgive us, my Lady!” They begged, visibly scared.

“Forgive them, my Lady, they are our scouts from the most distant lands and no one bothered to tell them about you,” Glûg stood up for his friends.

“Get up, Uruks,” you laughed at the ones below you. “I understand why you found this funny,” you assured them. “Glûg here is escorting me,” you explained because you didn’t want him to look stupid in his friends’ eyes – after all, he was unarmed and on the back of the horse, sitting behind you like a child.

“He always gets the best jobs,” one of the Uruks muttered and you chuckled.

“Such jobs come with a price. Glûg has nearly lost his life,” you bragged on his behalf and they hummed to each other.

“Has Lord Father moved from the village in the last few weeks?” Glûg asked them and they shrugged their arms, answering in Black Speech.

“What did they say?” You asked Glûg, turning your head around.

“I’d rather not say, my Lady…”

“What is it?” Your heart skipped a beat. Had something bad happened?

“They said: the fuck we know?” Glûg swallowed thickly but you laughed at that, sighing with relief.

“You do not have the best communication with your scouts,” you pointed out.

“I’ve been trying to make Lord Father realise that for years now!” Glûg complained and you nodded at that. Perhaps you would tell your husband about it later.

“We shall go now,” you nodded at the Uruk scouts and they nodded back. You ordered the horse to go and that was when Glûg tugged onto your cape. “Hm?”

“I had no idea Elves could understand humour,” he admitted and you smirked.

“There are many misconceptions,” you answered smugly.

You arrived at the village in the evening on the second day and, thankfully, Adar was still there. At least that was what the Uruks by the gate had told you when they were opening it for you and Glûg.

“Do you want to jump off of the horse and make it seem as if you are leading me?” You asked him when you crossed the gates.

“Good idea, my Lady,” he nodded and you heard him clumsily jump down onto the muddy ground. Then, he grabbed the horse by the reins and led you to the centre of the village.

You looked around and it was a different village than the one you had bid your farewell to your daughter at. Adar’s army was slowly going up North.

When you arrived at the market square, you spotted Moreth immediately and your heart clenched inside your chest. She couldn’t see you yet – she had her back turned and she was crouching down, surrounded by a bunch of the Uruk babies. Some of them looked rather gruesome but they were only little and innocent babies. And you found it absolutely endearing that your daughter still – even on her path towards the darkness – remained the gentle one, who would spend her free time with the most delicate ones; entertaining them with nursery rhymes in Black Speech that she had to learn recently.

She had some sort of a crown upon her head but it was made of old branches without any leaves on them. Instead of flowers, it was decorated with small grey stones of various shapes and small skulls of the small forest animals. But knowing Moreth, you just knew she had not harmed any of them and had to find these in the local woods. Or perhaps they were leftovers from the Uruks’ soups.

“That one is my son,” Glûg pointed at one of the babies. The little one was sitting on the ground and clapping his hands at your daughter’s nursery rhyme. You winced slightly at the sight of that baby.

“He is… adorable,” you lied and Glûg seemed to be very happy with your comment. That was the moment when his son spotted him and squealed, extending his hands towards his father.

Glûg ran up to him to pick him up and Moreth turned around. Her face lit up at the sight of you and she immediately stood up to approach you. Her long, black hair was bouncing in the air and she had a new, black dress on. She looked happy but you couldn’t ignore the fact her skin looked even paler than the last time you had seen her and even though her eyes were filled with joy now – they seemed to be more hollow than you remembered as well.

“Mother!” She hugged you when you dismounted the horse. “I’ve sent Glûg to find out your whereabouts but I was not sure if you would actually visit me!” She smiled widely and you caressed her cheeks before leaning in to place a kiss upon her forehead.

“Oh, my sweet Moreth… You smell like an Uruk,” you chuckled and she rolled her eyes. “What is this beautiful dress? Where did you get it?” You asked her, trying to focus on something cheerful.

“I have no idea. It is a gift from father,” she answered and you smiled to yourself. It was no surprise for you that Adar would get everything for his daughter but you wondered where he had found such a gown. Had he requested someone to make it? You found it quite adorable in a way.

“Are you happy here with him?” You asked.

“Oh, mother, you have no idea,” Moreth chuckled. “I can be myself here and I no longer have to bear the shackles of guilt,” she admitted and you nodded sadly, grabbing her wrists. They were colder than they should be.

“The light of Valinor is nearly gone, my child,” you hummed.

“Your hands feel a bit colder as well, mother,” Moreth teased and you furrowed your brows. She was right, you didn’t want to deny it. “Either way, I would be happier here if I had you by my side,” she sighed. “But father was right. He told me you would be back.”

You opened your mouth to answer her but you were interrupted by the door of one of the houses being opened. Both you and Moreth turned your heads around to glance in its direction and you saw Adar walking out slowly out of the house and walking towards you.

“Father!” Moreth ran up to him, excitedly. “You were right! Mother came to visit us!” She informed him.

“No, she did not come to visit us,” Adar pointed out calmly, standing right in front of you and staring at you intensely. Moreth’s smile dropped in an instant.

“What do you mean, father? Mother?” She looked at you and her eyes filled with tears.

Sometimes, she still acted like a very young Elf even though she was centuries old. She had been born in the First Age but you had been spoiling her ever since Adar’s disappearance and now it simply felt wrong to abandon her when she was still so dependent on you. You wondered now how could you have bid farewell to her all those months ago.

“She came to stay,” Adar explained calmly and you straightened your back at his words as you took a deep breath in. He was right, so you nodded.

Moreth smiled again although you could see she was finding it hard to believe. She kissed both of your cheeks and ran away to dance around with the Uruk children out of happiness. You chuckled at that as your eyes followed her movements and then you looked back at your husband.

“How did you know?” You asked, quietly.

“Because I know my wife,” Adar took a step ahead to be even closer to you and he extended his rough hand towards you. “I know she will always choose her family in the end. You have always been the most devoted mother. And wife,” he explained and you took his hand gently. It felt so odd to be able to touch him and to be with him again.

“I have spoiled her,” you sighed and looked back at Moreth again, dancing around with the children.

“I would have done the exact same,” Adar cracked a smile and you dared to smile back at him shyly. In a way, it felt as if you were a young Elven maiden again, all those centuries ago, being courted by him.

“I know,” you answered. “That is the reason why I have done it,” you added.

“Your hands do seem to be colder than the last time indeed,” Adar hummed to himself and lifted your wrist up to place a small kiss upon your knuckles. “But they still remain soft.”

You had a feeling this comment was supposed to contrast your hands with his rough and scarred ones and it made you sad. You squeezed his fingers reassuringly.

“I must admit, it feels… odd to be here. Odd to have you back by my side. I have grieved you for an Age,” you confessed. “I might need some time to adapt,” you explained.

“You may have all the time in this world that you need,” your husband assured you and you smiled at him. “Come, let me show you inside. We are staying here for a while,” he pointed at the door leading inside the house and you nodded before gathering your skirts and following him through the mud towards your new home.

It had no luxuries but it was enough. Elves did not require much to survive and being here with your husband and daughter felt better than being surrounded by all the riches of Mirkwood but far away from them.

You looked around with a small smile and followed Adar upstairs.

“The room on the right is Moreth’s,” he opened the door slightly so you could look inside. You grinned at the sight of how she had decorated the place with all sorts of books, dried out leaves and flowers, pretty stones and her drawings.

“Living inside her own world as always,” you pointed out and Adar closed the door with a smile.

“It is one of her best qualities,” he admitted and you agreed with a head nod. “The room on the left can be yours,” he opened the door for you to walk in but when you looked around, you saw some of his belongings scattered around.

“Is that not your room?” You asked.

“I do not need one,” Adar shrugged his arms and walked inside as well. He began gathering his belongings but you stopped his hand gently as he looked up at you, questioningly.

“I do not mind sharing a chamber with you, husband,” you assured him. “We were wed, we are one,” you told him, “for eternity. It might feel odd in the beginning after such a long time but the more time we spend together, the sooner I shall adapt,” you added.

“I have spent an Age missing you and grieving you,” Adar whispered, taking your hand into his. “I might find it difficult to keep myself away from you now.”

“Oh, Adar,” you cupped his cheeks and looked deep into his eyes. “I have been suffering without you enough and I have been with Moreth and all of my friends, surrounded by the beauty of the Elven realms. And you… You have been so lonely. I cannot imagine what you have been going through,” you admitted quietly and felt a single tear streaming down your cheek.

“It does not matter anymore,” your husband assured you and wiped the tear away from your cheek. Then, he placed the tip of his thumb on his tongue to taste it. “You truly are growing colder, my dear,” he pointed out.

“I can feel it, too,” you nodded. “The rot is making its home inside of me,” you admitted. “But I would rather be damned with you than to carry the light alone.”

Adar seemed to be moved by your confession and you kept caressing his cheeks gently to soothe him. You saw a tear escaping his eyes, too, but you only shushed him gently, making no comment about it.

“There is only one thing I shall never forgive you,” you confessed.

“Taking Moreth down with me?” His voice broke.

“No,” you shook your head. “She is an Age old. That is quite enough to be able to make your own decisions, don’t you think?” You chuckled through your own tears. “But you have forsaken me. You have gone away from me – from us – to Morgoth…”

“I wanted to come back for you, I have told you already. It was Sauron who made me believe that you and Moreth had been dead,” Adar reminded you. “You have always been a part of my plans. Everything I have done, I have done for my family. Morgoth knew about my devotion. He often used you or Moreth to torture me or to tempt me to stay and learn more,” your husband confessed and you furrowed your brows as your eyes filled with fresh tears. “Sauron knew. He observed him at work. He knew how much you meant to me. That was the reason for his lie. For his illusion that has been haunting me for centuries,” Adar winced a little as if he had just remembered the vision of you and Moreth dying that Sauron had shown him once.

You caressed your husband’s cheeks again and leaned in to place a gentle kiss upon his lips, feeling the tears of the both of you mixing on your skin.

“If what they say is true… That the Dark Lord is back… We shall defeat him together, my love,” you promised in a quiet whisper.

“I would never ask you or Moreth to fight for me,” Adar shook his head and pressed his forehead to yours. “But your presence gives me strength to face my battles.”

“As it should be,” your fingertips reached his temples and you pressed them softly, giving them a little massage.

Your little moment of intimacy was interrupted by Moreth who stood in the doorway and cleared her throat. When you both turned around to face her with widened eyes, she chuckled.

“Do not fret. I am an Age old,” she pointed out with a smile. “And it does make my heart content to see you two like this. I was only wanting to ask how do you find your chambers, mother?” She grinned at you.

“I do find them good enough, thank you,” you answered her.

“I have a gift for you. When father assured me you would come back, I worked on something to give you. I thought you would only visit, so I wanted to give you something to remind you of me. You do not need a reminder, I guess, but you might still want to wear it,” she smiled mysteriously and extended her hand towards you.

You took her hand and she led you to her bedroom. Adar followed you, too, with a gentle smile as he leaned on the wall and watched you two interact. Moreth opened one of the boxes under her bed and she handed you something. It was a necklace made of black metal and a ruby stone. It was of great beauty but you wondered how she had managed to make it.

“I asked the human smith for help,” she revealed as if she knew what your questions were. “And the ruby was a gift for me from father,” she smiled at Adar.

“Where did you get it from?” You asked him, turning around.

“You do not want to know,” he shook his head and approached you. He took the necklace to clasp it behind your neck. “Perhaps I shall tell you one day, when your heart rots enough to handle it.”

And when you felt the ruby stone brushing your skin, you could feel the rot growing stronger and overtaking the cold light within you, but the rot was warm and rooted in love, therefore it could not be wrong. Could it?

MASTERLIST

#adar x reader #lilysfiction

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eclipsecrowned · 2 months ago

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poll results discussion.

love based on this i can predict people would be apeshit for 1) mira/br!enne, or 2) mira and her bestie/ax's oc, tyra flowers. both are lady knights. either she's creeping around while her baby cousin is being paraded past the tyr*lls with one of their household, or she's gonna reunite with little cousin and just 'oh who's your knight--' about bri. i think after a youth spent playing the perfect lady to please others and convince them that she's more than a bastard, she could do with the impropriety of being the beloved of a woman, let alone a woman who so treads on the conventions mira so upheld for so long.

we also have some love for the common craftsman, i genuinely think she's cut out for a more simple life. balancing books, seeing to both shop and neighborhood, pulling string from her past life if needed. she'd probably do her part from the bottom to improve the lot of smallfolk, maybe try at least to get some literacy initiatives going to marry her love of the written world to her desire to tip the scales. as long as no one asks or capitalizes on what house she's snow too, she might be alright. i cannot think of the first character in this archetype so feel free to recommend one.

prince incognito, i mean. she is from two very good houses, including one paramount, and bastardy can be overwritten by royal decree. she's noble but never really got to be such, while he's noble and pretending not to be such. i can see where y'all are going. plus the whole 'came to the keep a handmaid and returns a titled man's wife' vibe, i like, i like. the only archetype of this sort i can think of in her timeline is aeg0n and frankly forget the st*rk/t*rg thing it's played to death let's talk 3lia's son w ash*ra's daughter when neither knew their mother as a potential dynamic my ears are open.

the jester. y'all really wanna see the young lady let loose for once in her life, be carefree, allow herself room to just be in a moment. it will never happen, but with the right caper, maybe she'll start weighing the merits of such 'childish' behavior. i genuinely think a jester archetype would be so freeing for her, in addition to matching the words of a post that defines her so much. bonus if it's a sad clown type that can show her that smiling through the hurt is valid and that tightly-held control is not the only performance one can master for the world, just the most suffocating. like the craftsman i struggle to think of who in canon or among ocs meets this archetype but i'm all ears for ideas.

the knight, a classic. who doesn't love a good servant/servant match in the background of active princess classic romance? as mira is learned and ladylike, her partner can be skilled and masculine. she can be the port o his storm, the common sense to his bravado, any number of tropes in tandem with the surface level trope. there's honestly so many knights in series that it's totally up to audience which one would work for mira herself. bonus if, perhaps, a certain old knight is egging the younger man on to make his move and not play the same fool he did decades ago with another pretty d0rnish girl. make a move, lad.

as for the losers of the night, the shy nobleman is hysterical to me bc on discord i may or may not have potential endgames for her in aus around such characters. one is basically my jon going 'and to my bestie, a legal wife to secure alliance with my house... my lady cousin. not that one. not that one either. this one. the grown one. good luck. it's cool she's d0rnish they're polyamorous she'll love gil--' and them having a surprisingly sweet background ship among the chaos of jon's rule/politicking. the other is a complete au where she ends up with a 'survives as part of the conceit' d0meric and have more of a love match than anything. y'all really said 'get that shit outta my sight.'

and to the trickster... i get it. the jester is kind of harmless, playful, dancing through life kinda vibes. the trickster is a more dangerous/high stakes take on that. mira is a manipulator at heart and will do actual war crimes to keep her baby cousin safe. i don't know if y'all knew this but you might have avoided creating wester0s' longest running psychological warfare in not letting her have this type. i salute you even if i personally think it would be hysterical in a black comedy way.

#out of stories

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matrose · 2 years ago

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Hi! Idril and Celebrimbor for the ask game pls! :D

hi heather thank u so much 🫶❤️‼️‼️

Idril 💙

Sexuality Headcanon: sexuality as well as gender are so hard for me to define for almost any middle-earth character!! elves and dwarves especially! ive never really thought about idrils sexuality before but maybe bi…she has all the swag :)

Gender Headcanon: elf gender… elf gender!!! what is if even!! how does gender even matter if youre 7000 years old and youve been married for 4000 years. immortality seems to eventually remove most cultural need for gender / gender presentation doesnt it? and then what does it mean for idril (young!!) who married a human!! very fascinating. ive never thought more about this but shes more girl than other elves probably. just from the vibes

A ship I have with said character: i love her and tuor. and then both of them with voronwe!! i think she and voronwe could have a really interesting and sweet relationship! also, real quick abt voronwe, extremely gender of him to have a traditionally feminine name ending!!!!!

A BROTP I have with said character: she and glorfindel could be great friends aka her favorite babysitter growing up 🥺

A NOTP I have with said character: her and maeglin :/

A random headcanon: i love the headcanon of taking the silverfoot meaning of her name literally!! idril with prosthetics my beloved <3 shes also really great at strategy based boardgames (think similar to chess and the like) and can beat her grandpa 8/10 times!! also her short hair after her mothers passing 🥺

General Opinion over said character: i really really like her! shes so smart and endured so much in just her first few years of life… im happy she got away from the tragedy that shouldve gotten to her as an elf in love with a mortal ❤️ shes special to meee‼️

Celebrimbor 💚

Sexuality Headcanon: one of the few characters where i can pin it down actually. hes gay! 🎉

Gender Headcanon: hmm his gender is jewelsmith 💎

A ship I have with said character: i like him and narviiii 🥺 i am always weak for dwarf x elf relationships

A BROTP I have with said character: just in general i think the concept of him being born in beleriand + gil galad being born late in the first age + elrond all being pretty young and all being the sort of leading figures of the second age noldor is really funny. teenage government… though i like how rings of power have made him elronds weird uncle thats really funny :)

A NOTP I have with said character: difficult. i think silvergifting can be interesting if done right but its so evil and toxic and bad for celebrimbor i just sorta dont want him there. get out bestie!!!!

A random headcanon: narvi pierced his nose bridge. it looks very cool. and an evil one because im thinking about narvi still: sauron tried his best to shapeshift into narvi when celebrimbor was taken captive, for pain and torture reasons but he could never quite get it right. first the eyes. then the piercings were on the wrong side. no the hair was never that neatly brushed. the eyebrows are too thin right there. it drove sauron crazy so he eventually stopped trying and celebrimbor held onto that little victory all the way to mandos.

General Opinion over said character: i dont think about him enough! hes fascinating really

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theshotsheardacrossworlds · 3 years ago

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Red Faced

Agnes/Estinien. Agnes’s peaceful afternoon in Il Mheg is interrupted by a certain fae king with news from Estinien. NSFW

Agnes Currai, the Warrior of Light and Darkness, was enjoying a sunny afternoon with clear skies in Il Mheg, a picnic lunch on her blanket. She was on a hill overlooking Longmirror Lake, admiring the view. Gods, this is a perfect day! Things are relatively quiet, I have a wonderful little lunch, and maybe I’ll even go for a swim later. As she took a bite from her sandwich, a familiar fae king appeared.

“My beloved sapling, I come bearing tidings from your grumpy elf.”

And now my day has gotten even more perfect! Agnes smiled at Feo Ul. “Thank you, Feo! And how is my grumpy dragon?”

Feo Ul twirled. “Grumpy Elf thinks of you constantly, Agnes. He worries for your safety and hopes you will return soon.” Oh love, of course I’ll return soon. Don’t worry about me! “He’s been doing something called ‘hunt marks’ for gil. He wishes to lavish you with gifts when you get home!” That’s sweet, but I don’t need anything. I have everything I could want, love. “And he dreams of you!”

“Oh?“ Agnes raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yes! He dreams so vividly! In one such dream, you both were swimming in a glistening sea. And somehow both of you had no clothes on—“

Oh no.

“He kept touching your behind—“

Yes that’s normal, but please Feo Ul…

“And then you both started moaning, and he held you close. He started grunting—“

“FEO UL!” Agnes’s face was bright red.

“If that dream isn’t to your liking, there was one with him as a dragon standing over you. Such love in his eyes! And then he said something about eggs—“

OH MY FUCKING GODS. “Feo, really…I think I get the picture. I miss him too. Can you tell him that I’m here having a nice picnic and thinking of him? And that I’ll be home soon?” For the love of…just please don’t tell me about his sexy dreams. And did he dream about him being a dragon and filling me with eggs? Maybe it was a joke! A fae trick! That’s it! That has to be it!

Feo Ul spun happily. “Of course, my beloved sapling! He will know that you miss him. Such love you two share! Tis a most beautiful thing.”

Agnes’s cheeks still burned. “I, well, yes. I love him very much.”

“He also dreamt of your chest and belly—“

ESTINIEN!!!!!!

“OKAY THANKS FEO! THAT’S FINE! Tell him I love him.” Agnes hoped a hole would open below her and swallow her into a void.

With a nod, Feo Ul disappeared, leaving Agnes with crimson cheeks and feeling quite…warm all over. Oh dear.

#agnes currai #estinien wyrmblood #estinien varlineau #wolstinien #estinien x wol #feo ul #quick prompt fill for Red Faced lol #Agi is so embarrassed but also turned on

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ancient-names · 4 years ago

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Stripped (I)

(Music)

You should just go. It would be easiest, and maybe best.

The restless thought came to her mind as she smoothed a dress on its hanger in the corner of the attic. The wardrobe that had come, here and there, so she could look like someone fit for service in a lady’s household.

She’ll find others to take her counsel from. She already has. Younger and brighter, more suited to her likings and her needs. She is prospering now, and will no longer require you. You gave her permission to dismiss you at the beginning, after all. You knew this would happen. One day or another.

She thought of sweet-faced little Nemariel, and that Doman girl, Xiaohu, who clung to the lady like a shadow. She thought of that rude, green-haired beast, and she thought of a few things she’d like to say to him if she caught him alone. She tried to think of a path forward that didn’t involve some level of humiliation and embarrassment on her end.

And she removed the dress from the hanger and started to fold it. Walked across the narrow room to the bag that had been packed since her arrival. Full of practical things, trousers and a sturdy pair of boots for walking. Gloves, a warm hat with gil stashed inside, warm tunics for the cold. A good coat.

Ready to be grabbed in an instant.

You said that you were going to try. She reminded herself, as she bent to pack the one dress. Paused, and sighed, and reached beneath the bed for the pair of pretty shoes that went with it.

Then, she closed the bag and shoved it beneath the bed, to lie in wait. Paced the room a moment with all the awareness that if it felt like a cage, it was only of her own making. Running illustrates your guilt, makes you unworthy of trust, her old experience reminded her. Staying requires you to bow your head and suffer these Ishgardians and their questions and old judgements.

“...do you have it under control? Fully?” She repeated to herself, a mutter under her breath as she shook her head.

Think of Saint Shiva - how she must have trembled before her beloved on that final day, where they were united for eternity. But just as her spirit survived, so shall yours.

You have seen so much worse, after all.

You are Ishgardian, too. Still. She reminded herself, again and again, as she pulled a chair up to sit at her astroscope.

She noted the coruscating red glow of the Dragonstar in the northern sky and made a notation in a notebook. Notated the positions of the other constellations - the Bole descendant, the Spear rising and brilliant.

Hm.

Pushing the window open, she held her hand out blindly into the cold Ishgardian night. Flakes of snow light on her fingers before they melted. She didn’t have to wait long before the near-silent rustle of feathered wings and claws on the stone ledge answered her call.

The large snowy owl tilted its head at her as she looked down at it a moment. Bright eyes meeting her mismatched gaze a moment. Her dark lashes lulled as she gestured with one hand to the sky

“Go.” She whispered. And she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.

The cloudy sea that wreathed the city gave way to the icy wastes of Western Coerthas. The owl dipped low so she could get a better view of a snowed-over cavern. Of a straggling hunter’s camp, of a mining operation recently re-opened in the Slate Mountains. Soared high again until the snow and mountains turned to the gentler grass and caelumtrees of the Dravanian Forelands.

Her senses guided the bird towards a familiar destination - a ruined structure not too far from the river. Beasts came to drink there, a good source of food and water both.

When she saw no immediate signs of movement, she sent the animal in for a closer look.

She felt the owl’s delicate heartbeat pick up pace with the pounding of her own, in her own body, loud in her own ears.

She had to remind herself to bite her own tongue to not make a sound.

They came in the last years before the red moon’s descent. She remembered it as though it had occurred earlier in the morning. There was one of their number who was sickened, injured. They wanted to lay him to rest inside the sacred caverns, but they were denied. So they went to wait out in the ruins instead. Maybe one day…

It was hard to tell how long ago it had happened from this distance. What was easier told was the method. Skillful and sudden and bloody. A tell-tale lance wound still glistening black in the moonlight on one of the fallen. Torn-off claws, sheared-off skin.

The sight of the creatures she might have once called comrades strewn about the grass of the Forelands, food for scavengers, burned in her chest like a brand, brighter than any star in the heavens.

“Bastard.” She heard her own voice, low and quiet as she unconsciously lifted a hand to touch her scarred cheek. “I hope they got you good before the end.”

The link dissolved, and the near-silent flapping of owl’s wings rang in her ears and she drew a breath and leaned back in her chair. Her hands were cold, and she chafed her fingers together to draw the blood back to them.

Her quill and book notated the position of the heavens in front of her like an ache. A niggling familiarity that would pull at her until she could unearth her older notations and ephemeris. She let it go for now as she stretched to close the window- feeling every ilm of the reach in her bones, then slowly getting up to put tea on the little indoor stove that kept the top floor warm as much as it did anything else.

She needed no stars or tea-leaves or Deck of Sixty to decipher the portent she’d just seen laid before her, though. Violent and brutal and all-too-real.

There was no turning back.

Mentions: @thanidiel @mazinkhin @throughthemanorwindow

(Stripped (II) )

#ic writing #womp womp

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sirensyndicate · 4 years ago

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A Fond Farewell

Short Story by Nathaerus Reauloix ~ Mateus

“Grab your cups, lads!” Nathaerus called out cheerfully as he approached his crew at the long table in the galley with a fresh round of ale, “And lasses!” shouted a Miqo’te woman at the far end of the table. He laughed heartily at that, and gave the woman a wink, “Of course. I would never forget the lasses, especially one as lovely as you, but for my error of making you think you’d been forsaken, I will deliver your ale personally.”

He set down the tray of steins and slid two aside as the remainder were set upon immediately by the parched crewmates as they offered scattered thanks and grunts of acknowledgement. As the Elezen hoisted the claimed steins for himself and the woman at the opposite end of the long communal table, a rough looking Roegadyn the size of a bear gave him a jarring pat on the back before resting his lumbering arm over the Elezen’s shoulders, “You’re alright, lad. At first I didn’t think you’d be a lick of help here, what with you lookin’ like a scrawny sack o’ shite like you do, but, this has been a smoother tour than I’ve had in ages, thanks in part to yer skills. Ye’ll be missed, my boy.”

“Don’t get sentimental on me now, Hareswerd! We’ve still got one more night to get through together, hm? It’s not over until we reach the airship dock in Limsa. There’s still plenty of time for me to disappoint you!” Nathaerus said, voice full of mirth as he nimbly pivoted out of Hareswerd’s grasp and made his way to the Miqo’te.

She swished her tail excitedly as he approached. Circling around behind her, he bent down over her shoulder, chest pressed lightly to her back. He placed his mouth close to her ear as he set down the ale in front of her, “And for you.” he said lowly before dropping his voice to a whisper to continue, “We’ve one more evening on this vessel. Last chance to make good on my offer. Give it some thought, Khipi.” The woman blushed furiously as Nathaerus stood, letting his touch linger gently on her shoulder before making his way to the head of the table.

He cleared his throat and raised his own glass in the air, “To clear skies, honest gil, and the hardest working crew in Eorzea!”

The motley group at the table cheered and clattered their steins together in a symbol of camaraderie before downing the contents. Nathaerus brought his own mug to his lips then paused, setting it on the table. He snapped his fingers as if realizing something brilliant for the first time, “I should bring a little after dinner drink to some of the skeleton crew for being so kind as to allow us this final farewell.” He grinned conspiratorially, “You all won’t sell me out to the captain for giving the men something to lift their spirits for their selfless deeds will you?” the group scoffed and waved him off. He gave them an apologetic grin for his oversight that would leave his friends deprived of his presence for a short while.

Nathaerus wandered back to the barrels along the wall of the galley, kneeling down to reach the tap. Filling each stein one by one, he tapped an extra ingredient from a vial hidden up his right sleeve ; a simple sleeping powder he’d purchased from an apothecary, to help him get some rest from the constant noise of the airship engines, he’d claimed.

Some people found the droning of the machina soothing, but no, not Nathaerus. His senses were simply too delicate, and he couldn’t possibly manage without something to help him rest. He would let his crew down if he worked sleep-deprived. He’d be fired, and his poor mother counted on his wages too!

The apothecary had taken the bait and given him enough to last an entire contracted stint on an airship or, to lace the drinks of the lookouts the night before the end of his contract to allow him to work in peace.

Offering Khipi a final wink on his way out of the galley, he wandered over to the slim crew that had been left to stand watch over the cargo room making sure to give a wide berth to the helm and the captain’s quarters on his way. The lookouts offered him a nod of thanks and well wishes on wherever his next job would take him. Nathaerus stayed to exchange a few pleasantries before heading back down to the rest of the group.

He turned the corner of the narrow corridor back to the galley and nearly ran directly into Khipi. She jumped back in surprise and then averted her gaze quickly.

“I - was getting tired, and I...I wanted to make sure I saw you before I went to bed.” her cheeks flushed as she spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

Nathaerus smirked, olive eyes shining with interest at her sudden bashfulness , “Did you now? What could I, a simple sailor, possibly help the Chief Steward with at so late an hour?” his voice was filled with amusement as he slowly closed the distance between himself and Khipi. For every steady step he took, she shuffled back with equally unsure steps until her back hit the wall at the end of the corridor. Nathaerus placed one hand beside her head on the wall and ghosted his fingertips over one of her shoulders with the other, “Well?” he asked and paused, awaiting her answer.

In response, Khipi took a deep breath, pushed herself from the wall and jumped, hooking her legs around his waist and digging her hands into his hair, kissing him deeply. Nathaerus returned the kiss while he grasped at her waist, sliding his fingers along her side to fish for the small key ring which she always carried. When his index finger hit the metal ring, he deftly found the clip and released it from her belt loop,tucking it into his pants’ pocket. He laughed softly to break the kiss with the woman, “Now now, Khipi. What would the captain say if he saw you behaving this way, really?”

The Miqo’te released her grasp on the man and dropped down to the floor with a huff and a light thud. “I’ll be in my room then!” she declared and stared at him meaningfully for a moment before smoothing her hair down and heading off in the opposite direction.That had been a lucky break and easier than he’d expected. He’d planned to spend another several hours drinking with the crew to get an opportunity to free the key ring from her.

He whistled a jaunty tune to himself as he made his way back to the galley which was in an uproar. Deep in their cups, the rest of the crew had begun a bare knuckle boxing match between some of the rougher members, and the din of the blows combined with the cheers of the spectators was enough to drown out most anything happening on the ship at this time of night. Nathaerus peered in from the doorway taking care not to be seen.

This was as good a time as any.

He retraced his steps back to the cargo hold, and laughed lightly as he bent down to pat one of the passed out guards on the cheek. “Sweet dreams, my good man.” Nathaerus checked over each shoulder for unwanted lookers-on before he flipped through the key chain, trying several before finally the door gave way with a click of the tumbles falling into place. Nath slipped in and pushed the heavy door shut behind him.

He knew what he was looking for, a crate from the goldsmith’s guild in Ul’dah shipping a custom order necklace for some relocated merchant’s daughter in Costa del Sol by way of Limsa. It would be small, and bearing the emblem of the guild, and he need only find it, pry it open, take the necklace and be gone before anyone noticed he was missing from his own farewell party.

He made his way around the room methodically by the dim light available in the hold. Boxes of textiles, food, and other mundane goods were available in abundance, but the small box of jewels remained hidden like buried treasure. After several false starts, from the corner of his eye he caught the emblem of the Goldsmith’s Guild burned into the wood of a crate in the back corner of the room. He dashed over, and with a practiced hand, prised open the lid.

There it was, silver chain with a large emerald set in a ring of diamonds attached to the chain. Nathaerus whistled, impressed, as he lifted it from the crate and held it in front of him, the light dancing off the jewels, mesmerizing him. So much so that he didn’t hear the door open behind him.

“What in the Seven Hells do you think you’re doing in here? What happened to the boys out fr-” the bellowing voice stopped and Nathaerus heard the click of a gun, “Yer trying to steal from me, you filthy sky rat! I ought to take the brains out of yer head since you clearly ain’t usin’ ‘em!” Nathaerus slipped the chain of the necklace around his index finger and slowly stood, raising his hands in surrender before pivoting to face the voice he already knew.

The captain was a hulking Roegadyn man, his face was turning red and his rage was punctuated by the barrel of the rifle that he had aimed directly at Nathaerus.

“Captain! I wasn’t expecting your delightful company!” Nathaerus cautiously watched the man as he began, “You could, in fact kill me here, but I suspect that might bode poorly for your operations.”

The man tightened his grip on his rifle, “ An’ how do ye figure that? I kill a thief on board my vessel, and I’m a bloody hero.”

“Hm, not quite. First, you’d run the risk of damaging your cargo since all you’ve got to kill me is that inaccurate rifle. But let’s say for fun you do manage it. You’d still need to answer for why there’s a body on your ship once you dock. You could throw my body over, but I am well beloved by the crew, more than you, with all due respect...sir. The crew would notice my absence and be disinclined to believe your tale about me being a thief all along and get the officials involved when you dock. Then, of course, they would conduct a thorough investigation of your vessel.”

The captain raised his rifle to aim at Nathaerus’s head, “Make your point, and make it fast, you knife-eared piece of shite.”

“Well, sir. I think this might be an issue.” Nathaerus kicked the wall beside him and knocked loose a plank on the wall, sending large satchels of somnus spilling forth. The captain seemed shaken and his grip on the gun faltered.

Nathaerus left no time for the man to reply, “I chose your ship for a reason. Two, really, but only one that matters to you at the moment.” His face broke into a grin as he continued, “You can either let me walk off of this ship with this trinket whose value pales in comparison to that of your real cargo, or, you can risk having your entire operation exposed. Entirely your call, Captain” he said, the last word dripping with sarcasm.

For what felt like an eternity, the Roegadyn kept the gun trained on Nathaerus before he finally relented with a groan of frustration. “Take the bloody necklace, but you will never work for me again. I never want to see that shite-eating grin of yours for the rest of my cursed life, you hear me?”

Nathaerus spun the necklace around on his finger before catching it in his palm and casually tucking his hands in his pants’ pockets as he made his way to the door. “That was always the plan.”

#crystalrp #crystal rp #mateus rp #sirensyndicate #character writing #members #Nathaerus Reauloix #Nath #lfrp mateus

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allycryz · 4 years ago

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WOL Challenge #3: You

[Prompt List Here]

[Filled Prompt List Here]

Haurchefant x Nerys, set immediately after Ardent [Ao3 Link]

Heavensward, right after Inquisition trial and before “Keeping the Flame Alive”

Rating: T for off-screen sex, sex talk

~*This is 2K words, most of it is fluff and I revel in it*~

The Fortemps library is a grand one. Haurchefant is not certain how it compares–he has only been in Haillenarte's with Francel–but imagines it is the finest in Ishgard. His father is a man of letters, a true believer in the power of words. And one who expected his sons to follow suit.

His education differed greatly from his brothers’ the day he became a knight’s page. Even still, his lord father sent him monthly parcels of books. He was expected to read them all and send detailed reports on the contents. Had he ever kept up his thaumaturgy studies, he would have been hard-pressed to find the time.

As it was, he’d stayed up often to fit in the poetry and novels not on the list. Count Edmont was a modern man and his syllabus reflected this–vetted popular authors and poets made it into the parcels. Never in the quantity Haurchefant would have liked. And never some of the one-gil books he bought in The Pillars.

When he was a boy, there were songs for sale about body functions and noises; exaggerated tales of heroes fighting all manner of beasts and foes. As a youth, these became long, violent epics of battles and bravery. As a young man: lurid poems and explicit romance novels. Some as grand and sweeping as the classical romances his Father promoted. Some were not.

He has managed to introduce some contemporary poets into the collection. Not all. Edmont’s tastes in poetry run more traditional. Some of the rising stars of the field are roundly rejected.

Haurchefant is working on that.

Today, he feels romantic in both classic and literal senses. And as his Father has ordered him to stay for a day and night, indulging in a novel sounds just the thing. It seems that getting trapped in a blizzard–even if things had gone fine, more than fine–means your noble father turns to such decrees.

At least, that is what it means now they are growing close, as they never had been. Another miracle Nerys has wrought with her coming. And as Haurchefant has full faith in Corentiaux and the rest...he allows himself to be thus ordered.

Someone else is in the library. He can sense it soon as he enters. A soldier learns to tell when others are near, even in safe environs such as this. Haurchefant softens his footfalls, peering about the shelves. There, in the alcove reserved for study, he finds the source of today’s romantic mood.

Nerys looks up, eyes turning soft. His heart swells in his chest, his mouth cannot help but smile. It’s unstoppable and he does not ever want it to cease. Was it really only yesterday? That she told me my love was returned?

It seems a dream now, albeit the sweetest one he has ever had.

Her hands sweep at the papers she has laid out, pulling them into a stack. Flips over the one on top. “Hello.”

“Hello, my dear.” How nice to call her that. “I thought you were on a shopping expedition with Emmanellain?”

“I was.” She touches her neckline. So caught up in her eyes, he hadn’t noticed the gown she wore.

Scarlet as the unicorn on his shield, set off with dangling garnets in her ears. The heart-shaped neckline shows off her elegant neck and collar bones. The sleeves are slashed to reveal white fabric beneath and the cuffs have delicate pearls. “I found this. For when I’m here at the manor and not about to fight Inquisitors or dragons.”

“You are breathtaking in it.” He circles the table to take her hand. Bows over it before pressing his mouth to her knuckles. Etiquette demands he should kiss the air above it but surely exceptions are made for lovers.

She is my lover now, he thinks in wonder. Her cheeks stain with a fetching indigo shade. “My lord is kind.”

Haurchefant drops to one knee before his lady and turns her hand. Her palm is just as lovely to kiss. “Your lord means everything he says. But if you require further proof of my ardor…”

Nerys darts a glance about before tilting up his chin. Her kiss is sweet and soft and not a little heated. Would that he might lay her upon the table in this temple of learning and know her better.

Alas, Nerys has asked for discretion. Time to better acquaint themselves as lovers before declaring themselves. They are still friends–always will be, if he has anything to do with it–but this dynamic is new and strange. Haurchefant can understand why the most public figure in Eorzea might want some measure of privacy.

Though, he reflects as he parts from her. Half the fun would be keeping quiet and avoiding discovery.

“I know that look,” she says. “You’re thinking of something lascivious.”

“When I had this look before I confessed, what did you think it meant?”

“The same,” she admits. “But that your love of innuendo was good-natured teasing.”

He heaves a sigh. Either he is not as obvious as Estinien always accuses him or she’d been in deep, deep denial. “Dearest love, how-”

The library doors bang open and the culprit whistles as he walks inside. Haurchefant rises, knowing exactly who it is before he comes into view.

“Old Girl! Old Man!” Emmanellain grins. “You didn’t tell me we were having a party in the library.”

“Impetuous Youth,” Haurchefant shoots back. “What if one of us was deep in study?”

“Oh I don’t deal in ‘what-ifs’. You two are having a conversation, not studying; ergo all is well.”

“He has a point. I think,” says Nerys. “By the by, if Haurchefant is ‘Old Man’, what do you call your eldest brother?”

The two men exchange looks. Smile. Say in unison, “Artoirel.”

Nerys groans and flaps both hands at them in dismissal. “Go fetch whatever you two were looking for. I am actually working on something.”

“Am I to be banished for my baby brother’s crimes?” Haurchefant presses a hand to his heart. “Mistress Eluned, you wound me.”

“If I must be quiet and meek like a mouse, so must you. After all, I am the true leader of our brotherly trio.”

“You are right of course. I could never compare to you.” Haurchefant shakes his head. “Very well, Impetuous Youth. As mice scurry to cheese, let us go to the books we seek.”

“Ordered to seek,” Emmanellian mutters. “I’m to review Ymbelet’s Theorem of Command and deliver a report. As if we hadn’t put our schooling well behind us.”

Haurchefant does his best to soothe his brother. They quiet down at last: the younger man taking his volume off to his chambers, the elder settling into an armchair within eyesight of Nerys. (Far enough away that she may stop hiding her work.)

His novel is a work of popular fiction he’d garnered approval to stock here. No erotic scenes, but romantic enough. Should he ever get his eyes to stay on the page.

Alas, the white-haired sorcerer-king and his beloved princess and his soul-eating sword are no match for the Warrior of Light. The curve of her cheek. The braided coronet of purple and white hair, crowning her while the rest of her curls are a lovely raiment over her shoulders. The quirk to her dark, sweet lips.

She lifts those golden eyes, meeting him. If he were not already lovestruck and bedazzled, that gaze would ensnare him. He smiles and lifts his shoulders in a helpless shrug. Haurchefant isn’t sorry for lingering before a sunset; and that natural wonder is naught in comparison.

“My lord,” says Nerys, her voice carrying. “May I help you?”

“Nay, Mistress.” He shakes his head. “Simply exist as you are and I am satisfied.”

That is when Alphinaud bursts in, looking drawn and pale. If Haurchefant is annoyed at another interruption, that vanishes at the sight. He jumps to his feet. “My lad! Are you alright?”

The youth shakes his head. “Nerys. Tataru has grave news about General Aldynn. We must be off at once.”

She rises, hurrying over in a rush of white and red silk. In an instant she has changed from playfulness to resolute determination. Always ready to become The Warrior, his Nerys.

“Do you require anything?” He asks them. “You know my sword is yours, as is any resource at our disposal.”

Alphnaud shakes his head. “No one must see us enter Thanalan or leave. As soon as we cross back into Coerthas, we’ll send word.”

“I thank you. If you needs must bring the General somewhere safe, Camp Dragonhead’s doors are open to you.” If he must return to his command rather than fight at her side, at least he might be of some use to her. He loves–truly loves–his role but lately, his dearest wish is to be a shield at her back and a sword in her arsenal.

Ah, well, even Sorcerer-Kings do not get all they want. Why should he?

He dips into a sweeping bow to them both. Alphinaud returns it before rushing out, every emotion writ upon his usually perfect diplomat’s mask. Should the General die, the youth will carry it as he does everything else that occurred with the Braves. Haurchefant sends a prayer to Halone, asking for mercy on him.

Nerys takes his hand. Squeezes it. He squeezes it back. She smiles before picking up her skirts and rushing afterward.

It proves impossible to focus after that, even more than before. For a moment he entertains armoring up and following. This isn’t Dragonhead and so none of the knights with orders to keep him safe are here. (That time with Iceheart, Corentiaux had actually sat upon him.)

But they have asked he stay behind. So he will.

Haurchefant can take care of Nerys’ papers for her. He means to pointedly not look at the contents. He truly does. But he sees a piece of paper with his name on top, another with his last name, and his resolve crumbles.

The first piece of paper is titled “Minako” in large, neat letters. Beneath are names like Mamoru, Umino, Motoki. Her Yellow Chocobo is named Minako. Therefore, this is for…

The next sheet of paper confirms his suspicions. Under the heading “Black Chocobo” are the names Endymion, Starlight, Twilight, Onyx. Below that, a subheading “Elegance” with virtue monikers: Noble, Dignity, Charming.

And so, when he arrives to the last three papers (titled “Haurchefant”, “Greystone”, and “Fortemps”), he cannot contain his joy. The little note scribbled atop “Haurchefant” tickles him further. He gave you the Chocobo and you adore him. Will he be offended? He might be offended.

Haurchefant is certainly not offended.

He delights in the candidates, even some of the ones she crossed out. Sadly, there is no option for “Haurchefant” or “Haurchefant II.” I suppose that might get confusing.

Grinning, he picks up her leather folio and tucks her work inside. Hopefully, she will forgive his snooping because he has some ideas about this.

The Lord Commander’s bed at Camp Dragonhead may be the most comfortable place in Eorzea.

Nerys should get up to clean, brush her teeth, all the little nighttime rituals. But she is so pleasantly exhausted and the blankets are so soft and warm. She stretches, luxuriating in the feel of them against her skin. It has been a harrowing few days since her abrupt departure from Ishgard. But all is well and now, she feels nothing but comfort.

The bed could be warmer with her companion. But then she wouldn’t get to see his bare bottom as he slips into the bathroom. Halone must adore him to bless him with such a lovely rear.

“My love,” he calls after a while. “I have a confession to make.”

“Oh? Should I be worried?”

“I hope not.” He returns with a washcloth, his black silk robe barely closed against the cold. The fireplace sends flickers of light across his sculpted chest. “I may be overstepping but...I must say that I truly adore the name Grey. Though Tempsy is charming. Also, may I suggest Haurchon?”

What does he...oh. Oh! Nerys groans and buries her face in a pillow. She had been in such haste to rescue Raubahn–rightfully so!–that she had left all her papers there. All face up, all in the open.

The mattress dips as Haurchefant sits beside her. One hand strokes her hair, gentle and sweet. “I should not have pried but Nerys–my dearest one–I am utterly and truly touched by the idea. Though of course, if you pick a different name I will not be offended.”

“I only...well, I wouldn’t have him if not for you,” she mutters into the pillow, heat filling her face. “And if not for him, we wouldn’t have been in Coerthas that day.”

“So we owe him a great honor, for bringing us together at last.” His lips press against her bare shoulder. “Of course, the truest honor would be to name him after yourself-”

She turns then, mortification at last leaving her. Cups his face in her hands. “I am not playing this game where we go on for hours about who is better. Let’s agree it’s you and end it there.”

“Oh my love,” he sighs, bending down to her. “Though you are wrong, I must obey if it proves to you the depth of my regard.”

“I know another way you could prove it,” she says, pulling him atop her.

Grey likes his name.

#seaswolchallenge #nerys eluned #haurchefant greystone #haurchefant x wol #emmanellain de fortemps #Alphinaud Leveilleur #they're cute!#I love them #I love writing him when he's in love #and he is so often in love #:3 #ally writes

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lowkeyaesthvtic · 5 years ago

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Fiery and Frozen

Pairing: poly!Sea Three (Uma x Harry x Gil)

Summary: The Sea Three get sent home from Auradon Prep early due to a snow storm. The boys want to turn on the fireplace, but Uma has other plans

Word Count: 4,146 (that’s right, it’s a long boy)

Warnings: major major MAJOR explicit smut, light bondage, dom!Uma, switch!Harry, sub!Gil, I feel like the post will get banned if I explain everything so just read with caution

Author’s Note: This is the first of three (I think three?) smuts that follow the smut dialogue prompts I reblogged a while back. This particular one has prompts 16 and 94

The air outside was nearly arctic, and the howling wind didn’t help too much. Ice quietly tapped against every surface of every building in Auradon. Those who made the dull-witted decision to skip out on layering for that day came back to their dorms with high chills on their skin and a blue or purple tint to their lips. Uma, Harry, and Gil had all made that mistake.

School had been cancelled early that day, as did all after school activities. Some were happy to be sent home early, eager to catch up on homework, take a nap, whatever they wish. Others were upset about the cancellation of their beloved tourney practice or rehearsal for Auradon’s Speech and Debate team. These swashbucklers, however, only cared about staying warm.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Harry mumbled as he shut their dorm room door behind them. Goosebumps trailed along his pale skin from one muscled arm to the next. For the first time in a long time, he would publicly admit to being desperate for something. In the case? Warmth.

“I don’t get it...yesterday it was sunny. Like, really sunny. Did someone cast a spell? Is Auradon cursed again?” Gil asked as he walked over to their bed and looked for blankets, hoodies, anything to warm themselves from the frost outside their window. Uma sat on their bed and crossed one leg over the other as she eyed her boys up and down. Despite them being tinted a dark blue, Uma could not stop thinking about their lips. The cold skin trailing along every inch of her body as she’d curl her icy fingers down their bare backs.

“Nope. Evie told me earlier today that they got hit with something similar this time last year. She had the perfect cure for it, though.” She smirked and walked over to the small fireplace in their nearly luxurious bedroom. They had only added tiny Isle-esque touches so far, and they did intend on adding more. But for now, their bedroom would look like a weird mix of their home on the Isle and the fresh, pristine style of Auradon. With the fireplace on, the boys quickly sped over to sit on the foot of the bed and face the roaring heat emitting from across them.

The boys sighed in relief. But said relief was quickly cut in half when Uma stood in front of the fireplace, blocking some of the heat that would be warming them. She stood facing them, hands on her hips and looking at them with hungry eyes. “Well? Don’t you want to know what the cure is?” She asked innocently, hoping the tease in her tone would help them take the hint.

Harry immediately caught on, knowing that slight tease in her voice from a mile away. He smirked devilishly and gave a low chuckle. Gil, however, bless his pirate soul, was sitting there with his head slightly cocked to the side in confusion. “I thought the fireplace was the cure?” Gil asked.

The dark-locked pirate stood and tenderly greeted his girlfriend, placing a stray hair behind her face. “Hmmm, it seems he’s not catching the hint. More for me?” Harry quietly cooed in her ear. Uma smiled softly, inching in closer to him as if she were going to kiss him. Harry was swiftly surprised, however, when she tightly gripped his hair and pushed him down to his knees. Harry melted into the touch, loving the fluttery, fiery feeling he received when Uma reminded him who was in charge.

“Not if you’re gonna behave like that.” Uma began to walk closer to Gil, but stopped when she heard shuffling movement from behind her. She briskly turned and gave Harry her dominating glare. “Did I say you could get up? Stay there.” Uma gritted through her teeth as she turned to Gil with a sweet grin. “Gil, do you understand what I’m asking for, here?”

Gil could already feel his breath getting a hint heavier. He knew exactly what she wanted, but he had a role to play. This was a lustful dynamic the three of them had built far before they had decided to take their relationship in a more romantic direction. Harry was a feisty one. He’d have his days where all he wanted to do was tease his sunshiney boy more and more, inching towards the brink of release, but swiping it every time. He was bratty, too. Flirtatious and hedonistic as if the feeling of Gil and Uma’s bodies against his was a drug..no, a religion to him. He could be as teasing and devilish with Gil as he wanted to be, but the minute his Captain stepped in, it’s as if a switch in his mind, body, and soul flipped. What was once a fiery, near chaotic little demon became an obedient first mate, eager to please and serve his Goddess.

Uma always took charge. She’d command every kiss, every touch, every lingering piece of skin on her and her boys. If she asked her boys to jump, they’d ask how hard..how deep, and they had to do it willingly. Because their Captain was merciless, brutal, yet burning ecstasy in punishment.

Gil? Gil was the sunshine boy. Innocent and a tad dumb both in the streets and somewhat in the sheets. He was always submissive. Almost always excited. He would be a bit naive at first, supposedly fronting like he didn’t have a lot of experience. But once the foreplay was done, that would be the complete opposite. Gil is like a rabbit. Sweet and adorable but horny as fuck. And that showed in his actions. He was needy of pleasure both for himself and his partners, and giving out a naive front was a part of that need.

“I, I think so? Can you...can you tell me?” Uma quietly giggled and slowly shifted herself on to Gil’s lap, wrapping her legs around his waist. She runs her hands gently through his blonde locks and placing a finger under his chin, leans his head up to gaze directly into her dark brown eyes.

“Oh, sweetie. Why tell..when I can just show?” Uma whispered before leaning in to place a kiss on Gil’s soft, pouty lips. Their lips collided deeply and passionately, dancing with each other in a fiery masquerade. Uma couldn’t keep her hands off of Gil’s rock hard, bulging biceps and Gil revelled in every cold touch she gave him. Harry sat back in longing, the sounds of their needy groans and content, quiet sighs filling the room and seeping into his skin. Gil quickly moved down to Uma’s neck, sucking and biting hard enough to leave love bites that blended near perfectly with her dark skin. A small moan slips from Uma as she leans back and takes a quick look at how Harry’s reacting to all of this. She quickly pushes Gil down, his back laying on the soft bed. As she takes off his shirt, she leans down and cooes loud enough for the dark haired pirate behind her to hear. “Gil, why don’t we warm ourselves up a bit, hm?” Gil slowly nods, feeling his erection growing harder with every ounce of her breath he feels on his skin.

“But...but what about Harry?” Gil looked up just for a moment to check on his kneeling boyfriend. He wasn’t quite a mess just yet, but the animal was definitely not liking his cage. His mind was racing, eyes fixed on Gil’s bare chest. He knew that as soon as Uma gave him the permission to, he’d ravage that naive boy enough to make Gil scream his name. The idea of pinning Gil’s arms to the bed as he’d suck and bite on every inch of his skin, teasing his hard, twitching cock until the very last second made Harry’s erection very visible through his black pants. Harry looked to Uma and gave her a gaze that silently begged for permission to stand, to move, to do anything other than sit here and watch. Uma chuckled and positioned herself right on top of Gil’s growing erection, causing a pleasured moan to slip from the boy’s lips.

“We’re gonna give him a show first. Now, be a good boy and do what I tell you. That won’t be so hard, will it?” Gil shakes his head, knowing that the moment he disobeys her he will regret it. Uma smiles and continues kissing every inch of his body, one hand gripping onto his shoulder as she digs her nails into his skin as the other hand rests on Gil’s right thigh. She perks her firm, supple ass a bit higher into the air, knowing it’d drive her first mate crazy. By the time she leans up to examine her work, Gil’s neck and chest are covered in marks varying in shades of red and purple. Gil whines at the loss of contact, but is relieved of the sudden loss when he feels her grinding against his crotch. In his pleasured haze, he hadn’t noticed that Uma had stripped of nearly all her clothes, leaving her only in a pair of lacey, dark blue panties.

But Harry had seen every bit of it. He knew from the second she removed her brown belt what she was doing to him. He marveled how she swayed out of her dress to the beat of every possible song that was blaring in his mind. He nearly growled when she turned around and flashed him a wink as she removed her bra and tossed it to the floor beside them. Not seeing her breasts, but only the curves and divots of her back and hips was the biggest tease she had given him. He wanted to touch her so bad, feel her lips crash onto his pale body and please every inch of her skin as Gil lingered his tongue up and down his cock. But, like a puppet on strings, he had no choice but to stay still.

Uma continued to grind against Gil’s hard cock, loving the feeling it gave her but needing just a little more. She moved her hand from Gil’s shoulder to his blonde lock, giving a strong tug. Gil quietly winced and the mix of pain and pleasure that she gave him, but he loved every bit of it. He needed to feel her mouth on him like a fish needed the ocean water coursing through every breath. “Uma..please..I need you.” He begged, eyes glazing over with wanton.

At his begging remark, Uma leans down and growls into his ear. “Did I say you could speak, my little rabbit?” She ceased her grinding and stood up, motioning to a needy Harry to stand beside her. “I’ll have to admit, I loved hearing you beg. Maybe our needy Harry over here can help you beg a bit more, hm?” As Harry stood beside her, she pulled him in and quickly crashed their lips together. After being without her touch for so long, it felt like ecstasy to finally get some attention. They ran their hands all over each other, Harry taking every chance he could get to grip her soft breasts. He started to move down to her neck when she pushed him back. “I’ve gotta get something. You two have fun while I’m gone.” As she walked away, she whispered a subtle command to her first mate. “I want him a mess when I’m back. But don’t let him come, you got that?” Moving his gaze to the desperate blonde in front of him, he slowly nodded with a devilish snicker. Uma walked off, heading towards a special closet in a different part of their home.

Harry quickly rushed on top of Gil, stripping off his jacket and shirt with haste. Using his strength, he pulled Gil up closer to him, their chests touching skin to skin. “Wait, what did she tell you?” Gil asked in between quiet moans as Harry left even more love bites across his neck and shoulders.

“Shut up and take your pants off.” Harry responded, to which Gil obliged. Soon enough, both of the boys were naked and revelling in each other’s touch. Heat, lust, and utter desire roaring in the both of them. Like an entrancing snake, Harry slithered down Gil’s chilled body, leaving both wet and soft kisses down every inch until he finally licked a long, wet stride up the blonde’s hard cock. The sensation sent shivers up Gil’s spine as he leaned his head back and let a needy moan release into their bedroom. Gripping onto his thighs strong enough to leave red marks, Harry soon became a little rougher with his tongue. Gil intertwined his fingers in his dark, messy locks as Harry switched back and forth between speedily bobbing up and down and teasing licks from the base to his tip. Harry had always been a fan of control when it came to Gil, doing everything he could to remind the muscle that no matter how big and strong he was, he’d always be a good boy for a teasing, devilish imp like himself.

Harry kept himself trapped in between Gil’s legs, his pace growing quick and rough as Gil bucked his hips and let his cock hit the back of Harry’s throat. Gil could feel the warmth in his stomach beginning to bubble over as he longed for release. “Harry...please.” He moaned out as he neared his climax. Harry let go of his cock with an audible pop and continued gliding his fingers along the inside of Gil’s thighs, relishing in the small shivers and squirms the blonde pirate gave.

“Sorry, rabbit. Uma gave me orders. I have to follow them.” He slid back from in between Gil’s legs and moved to straddle him. He leaned down to his boyfriend’s ear and whispered lowly. “You know how to follow orders, don’t you?” As Harry’s hand went to tightly grip Gil’s throat, the two pirates could hear the door opening and Uma walking in with an evil smile on her face. There she stood with a pair of red, leather handcuffs in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other. Harry speedily removed himself from Gil and began to saunter closer to Uma, eyeing the cuffs like a hungry wolf. “What exactly do you have planned, Captain?” Uma let out a soft chuckle before looking over to Gil.

“Gil, my rabbit, lean up against the headboard, will you?” Gil quickly nodded and obeyed, shimmying his body so his back leaned against the headboard. Uma spun one of the cuffs around her finger in pure excitement. “Harry, help me out?”

“Gladly, Captain.” Harry purred as the two moved over to cuff Gil to the black headboard behind their bed. Gil’s heartbeat began to quicken in both fear and excitement as he felt his hands restrict to the tight, red, leather cuffs that Uma had brought up. His length was still standing hard and thick, almost painfully stiff from Harry’s earlier teasing. A tiny whimper rises from him as Harry snakes down to his chest and starts to leave even more tiny little love bites on his chest. Uma straddled behind Harry and grabbed a lock of his hair, using her grip to move him up and away from Gil’s chest.

“Easy, Harry, you’re making the poor guy miserable. Surely he should get some kind of award for following my orders earlier, shouldn’t he?” Uma smiled as she grabbed the bottle of lube and began to open the cap. However, instead of squeezing the lube onto Harry’s hand, she quickly grabbed two of Harry’s fingers and swirled her tongue around them long and slow. “Just in case the lube’s not enough.” She said after releasing his fingers with an audible pop. Harry could try to assume that was the only reason Uma sucked his fingers so sloppily, but he knew what she was doing. He chuckled lightly and looked down at Gil. The poor little rabbit still laid a heavily breathing, silently begging mess. Harry took the lube from Uma’s hand and squeezed a little bit of it onto his two fingers before lathering them in the warm liquid.

“Don’t worry, little rabbit. I’ll warm you up.” Harry smirked as he teased his finger around the rim of Gil’s hole before slowly inserting it inside of him. A small hiss of pain could be heard as Gil slowly adjusted to the penetration, but it wasn’t long before he laid there, eager for Harry to move his long, index finger.

“H-Harry, please...s-stop teasing.”

“We really need to find a way to shut you up, don’t we, little Rabbit? Don’t worry, I’ve got just the thing. Are you able to lay on your back?” Uma asked softly, a temporary pause from her dominating demeanor to ensure the safety of her boyfriend. When he nodded his head and began to slowly lay on his back, Uma straddled over his chest and began to capture his tongue in a heated, passionate kiss. In the kiss, Uma began to grind her naked sex on top of Gil’s chest, painting it with her wet juices. “Go ahead and stop teasing him, Harry. I’ve got just the thing to keep him quiet.” Uma ordered her first mate. As Harry obeyed and began to curl his finger inside Gil’s hole, a soft sigh of relief could be heard from the blonde pirate. Uma began to move her naked body closer and closer to Gil’s mouth. “You know what to do, little rabbit. Show me what that tongue can do.” She whispered before lowering herself onto Gil’s face. He eagerly went to work licking her folds, lapping at her warm juices like a thirsty dog desperate for water.

As he ate Uma out, Harry slowly curved his finger as he moved in and out of Gil’s hole. Tired of being tame, Harry cautiously added a second finger and began to quicken his pace. Moans could be heard from both Uma and Gil as the devilish imp hit Gil’s most sensitive spot and the little rabbit grew even more reckless with his tongue. “Fuck, sunshine...need to be in you so badly. Captain, can I fuck him? Please?” Harry panted as his member remained nearly untouched. His mind went wild watching both his boyfriend and girlfriend unravel before him, but the fact that he wasn’t getting a lot of attention slowly began to eat away at him.

Uma was nearing her climax, but decided that she needed something different, something more from her boys. She got off of Gil’s face and went back to straddling his chest. She lowered herself to meet his lips as she whispered seductively to him. “What do you think, Gil? You want Harry to fuck you senseless while I ride that thick cock of yours? All you gotta do is ask.” The two boys gulped in excitement as Harry shot Gil a look saying ‘You better beg, you little shit.’ Gil looked up at Uma and eagerly nodded his head.

“Please, please Captain. I need to feel you, I need to feel both of you. I promise, I’ll do anything.” After being silenced for so long, Gil felt amazing finally letting go of control and submitting to the two beautiful people in front of him. He’d beg as long as they wanted if it meant making them feel good. Uma quickly leaned down to peck his cheek.

“Good boy.” She smiled as she leaned over to the dresser and grabbed two condoms. As she handed one to Harry, she shot him a wink. “Try not to rough him up too much, alright? Unless he wants that.”

Gil rolled his eyes as he watched the two unwrap and put on the condoms. “I don’t care how rough, just fuck me already!”

Harry and Uma chuckled and positioned themselves. Uma straddled Gil’s length as Harry rubbed some of the warm lube onto his own. “Well, somebody’s eager.” Harry laughed as he teased the tip of his cock around Gil’s stretched hole. Uma, however, was tired of teasing. As soon as Gil’s cock was within reach, she quickly lowered herself down. There was a small wince at the sudden entry, but as soon as Uma started moving slowly..up and down..neither of them cared. Harry, incredibly aroused and nearly feral from the pleasurable sounds Uma and Gil began to make, finally entered Gil’s hole starting with his tip and taking it inch by inch. His rough, strong hands began to grip onto Gil’s thighs as he began to move in and out. Gil, slightly overstimulated from all the attention these two were giving him, could already feel his head floating in the clouds. It was like the three of them were the only people in the world. He didn’t care how loud or ridiculous sounding his moans and tiny begs were, or how loudly their headboard had started to bang on the wall. All he cared about was the warm wetness Uma blessed him with and the rough, senseless fucking Harry began to gave him as he quickly picked up his pace.

Uma definitely had a good time herself as well. It always brought her joy knowing the pleasure of two of the Isle’s hottest boys was in the palm of her hands. She was the only one who knew the right way to tug Harry’s black locks. She was the only one who knew Gil’s secret ‘love’ for spanking and rope bondage. Technically, Harry knew these things too, but she was the only one who’d get to use them as tiny games of sexual torture. She loved it. They loved it. And they’re the only ones who play it with each other.

Harry could feel himself start to come undone. The warm feeling in the pit of his groin was bubbling and boiling like a pot of hot water and he wanted nothing more than to let it burst inside of his blonde baby boy. “C-Captain...can I come? Please, please let me come inside of him.” Harry would never be this submissive around anybody else. But there was something about the way Uma carried herself, both in and outside the bedroom, that made him weak in the knees. Weak enough that if anybody else were to see the two in moments like these, they’d think Harry was under some kind of love spell cast by Uma. But there was no spell involved here, just a girl so beautiful, so confident, so strong in her fight for dominance that just submitting to her brought Harry the utmost pleasure. For Gil, on the other hand, he was an amplified, sexualized version of his usual, chaotic self. Eager to both tease and please. After all, the more you tease, the more they want it, and Harry loved to elongate everything with Gil as far as he could until Gil was a begging mess.

Speaking of begging, Gil’s pants began to grow quick and unrhythmic as his climax came close. “I’m getting close, too. Uma...p-please..” He whined as he listened to the beautiful music of Uma’s moans.

“Yes, yes baby. You can come. Come long and hard like I know you can.” Neither of the boys knew which one she was talking to, but they obeyed the order regardless. Gil let out a huge moan as he came inside of Uma, knowing he’d have quite the messy condom to throw away later. As he came, Harry could feel Gil’s hole tightening around him. The warm, tight hole around Harry’s throbbing cock was enough for the devilish pirate to reach his peak, whispering both Gil and Uma’s name as he did.

By the time Uma had undone Gil’s cuffs and Harry had thrown away both of the condoms, the three laid sprawled out across the bed, both of the boys near drenched in sweat. “Thank wicked for snow days, yeah?” Harry huffed out as he tangled his fingers in Gil’s ruffled and messy locks.

“Definitely.” Uma smiled, staring up at the ceiling then lowering her eyes to the roaring fireplace. “You boys want me to turn off the fireplace?”

“No, I think we’re good here.” Gil hummed between breaths, taking in the scent and afterglow of his two favorite people. Then, he noticed something. “Uma, did you finish?”

“No, that doesn’t matter though. Making you boys feel good is fine enough for me.” Gil leaned up and looked over to Harry, cocking an eyebrow and letting a playful smirk spread across his face.

“Well we can’t have that, can we, Harry?” Harry shrugged his shoulders as he began to leave little nibbles on Uma’s neck while Gil lowered himself to Uma’s thighs and began to tease her folds with his fingers. Uma sighed and closed her eyes, realizing a newfound love for snow days.

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