#hetalia fantasy au

[arthurianlegend144]

YO, Hetalia Fantasy AU

My favourite AUs are the high fantasy type, I love creating them, so here we have Paladin Alfred and Wizard Arthur.

It's not the best illustrations I have made, I am a little rusty with drawing, but I hope y'all enjoy it!

[prumanoenjoyer]

"Then let us rule as one!"

A sorely needed update on the Fantasy AU I made some shabby, half-hearted designs for a few months back. I still only have two chapters written and plenty more to go, but perhaps we'll one day have a story to go with it. In any case the TL:DR is that Lovino finds himself being courted by the one rumored to be the most evil man known to their world, and slowly begins to question whether that is the whole truth as Gilbert...well, acts like an overly excited dog rather than a bloodthirsty, dark overlord. Have the rumors been false, or is he playing some sinister game of deception? In any case Lovino must act before the realm is torn apart by battle...

Plenty of background work in this one. You can spot Gilbird in his giant form if you examine it closely! He's lurkin'

Concept sketch to show you just how much I do behind the scenes to get to the finished piece lol, I thought their silly muppet eyes were kind of cute.

[the-scribe-and-her-scribbles]

I tried to choose one part that I wanted you to talk about but they're all so good I couldn't choose 😭 So instead, here's a ⭐ to talk about the part you've been dying to talk about

Warning! This gets steamy towards the end!!!

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I think I really want to talk about feral!Gilbert.

I have a lot of thought on how I wanted to write the Fae/unseen folk. I wanted the fae-folk to have something off about them. Just that when a human were to look at them for long enough you could catch a glimpse of something else, or maybe a lack of something, like how the closer you look the less you actually see.

I wanted it to be very clear that Gilbert is not human. He’s a fae, a creature, a monster. Not some fairy prince.

In the unseen seen world, Gilbert’s body and soul are at home, so to speak, so he has an easy time holding in his true form, especially when he’s around you.

In fact most civilized fae are able to hold back the feral creatures the the wild magic makes them, even if for some it’s harder then others.

He loves you. And he loves you in a way that is gentle for his kind, with soft touches and vigilant eyes that keep you safe in their view. These are the tame parts of him, the places he keep separate from what the wild magic makes him, the parts he’s kept alive only for you. He loves you, and he doesn't want to upset you, so the charming, almost normal side of him is still of use to him.

But he's still fae, he's still a monster, and this means he loves you in all the dark and sharp ways too.

He would never hurt you, his soul wouldn’t let him, but his soul also drives him towards you like a wounded animal on bloody paws. His limbs bloody and aching, pain at the back of his mind as he throws himself, drags himself closer to you.

He’s a fae and you're his soulmate, his other half, so your his.

(Why couldn’t he keep you? He’d keep you safe, oh so safe. And well fed and well fucked. You’d love it if you were his. He would bring you any clothing or jewelry you could think of, he’d build you a library where you could sit and read forever, he’s even go get you that half-fae, Basil, that you met in Arbourly, to bring you novels from that human world you love so much. There is nothing he wouldn’t do for you if it meant he could keep you, so let him, let him, l̴̰̮͎͈͠e̴̩̰̥̋̍̐̏t̴̝̱̒̿ ̷͕̚ḫ̴̱̤̗́i̷̩͛̍̈́͝m̵̮̓.)

If Maus does manage to get back to her human world, Gilbert isn't staying behind. Just because you're back home, doesn't mean your free of him.

Unlike in the Unseen world, Gilbert has a much harder time blending in. He rarely ever had to visit before you, and the mortal air messes with him. When his magic seeps out, its far more noticeable. His pale form seems to flicker in and out when not looking directly at him. You can almost see something else in his place, darker and smokey, whipping away at the edges like ash.

And Gilbert acts different too... more intense. He's almost aways there, following you. Either from far back behind you, (you think he like pretending to stalk you) or right at your side, holding your arm in his and helping you to where you need to go.

He's lingering, appearing in your room and around corners, unable to keep his hands to himself. He's rubbing his hands up the sides of your arm and whispering soft things to you. Other times, he's grabbing at you (you can swear you feel claws when he does.) He's still kind, just protective? possessive? Nipping at your cheeks and neck. If you aren't wearing gloves, he's even kissing and nipping your wrists. Muttering about how 'they(???) keep coming loose', how he'll have to give you more.

So he gives you things. Kisses and affections, small trinkets and foods, because he's a fae, and they gain little tethers with the humans they give favours too. He doesn't do it to lord over you or control you, just to protect you, keep tied to you, strengthen the ties that he already has from your deal you made all that time ago, and to protect your soul-tie.

It makes that dark thing inside him purr (you swear you've felt it one or twice). All those golden string, the single red one of your fates intertwined.

Make no mistake Reader, Gilbert has no intention of letting you go anywhere without him. You're his. He knows this, and you know this. But he's also yours. And he tells you this often.

"You can go anywhere, Maus," he whispers, hot breath (unnaturally so) fanning on the space behind your ear. You whine out at him and Gilbert can't stop himself from pressing you further into one of the bookshelves behind you counter of your father's store. Your skirt is hiked up around your waist, his hips pressed to your center with your knees help up by his arms. "But I'll follow you. I'm yours, hum? Say it, say I'm yours, say you love me, Schatz." He kisses you again and when you pulls away, you nod your head. You're whole body is as if its been set aflame. The lovely strings tied to your soul tug and pull in the most delicious way.

"Your mine, Gilbert. I love you," and as the words leave your mouth, his eyes burn brightly with devotion. "Thank you, Maus."

You smile into the next kiss.

-----

This was not edited. Forgive me for errors!!!

I am heavily inspired by @ghouljams portrayal of the Fae (especially soul ties. I think its such a great way to describe fae deals!!!) I wish I had their works to read when I was starting my Fae au years ago, because I agree with them so much. If you like Call of Duty, and like Fae AU's , you’ll love their stuff!

Tags???: @jtownraindancer @redrosesociety1 @xxruinaxx

[artistically-hershie]

Final Fantasy XIV x Hetalia

Astrologian Ivan

{Race: Au Ra [Au Rii]}

I bet my Early Hetalia phase Self would LOVE to see this right now. When i was new to the fandom I thought of Astrologian Ivan, because to me that seemed adorable and somewhat fitting.

Also fitting for Feliciano

I believe at the time Shadowbringers was just teased and i have watched my mother play ffxiv since launch and relaunch. Astologian always looked so pretty to me.

I have finally got back into the game and couldn't help but want to draw him.

I do plan to draw Alfred and a few others on the future, but for now I am happy with how Ivan turned out.

[hetagrammy]

This party rolls up to your tavern, what do you do? This is not strictly a D&D AU, but I wanted to make character stats for fun!

(Statless pics under the cut)

[bone-evidence]

Here's the second of my PruCan Minifics, based off sentences (or prompts) given to me by you lovely folks! This one was from @disneyprincessdxminatrix, and it was: "No one's ever going to hurt you again. Not as long as I'm around." I took that and ran to perhaps unexpected places lmao! Enjoy!

Quiet murmurs of anticipation all stopped the second the large wooden doors opened. The High Priest, dressed in fine white robes and the visage of a horrific horned Demon, led the sacrifice like a dog on a leash to the circular stone altar. 

Matthew was almost relieved. Almost. 

Though they'd bound his wrists in front of him with rough rope, they hadn't bothered to cover his eyes at all. No, they dragged him out of the animal pen in which they'd kept him for the last two months and paraded him around like a prized beast ripe for the slaughter. He supposed that a blindfold wasn't necessary. The dozens of people around him, all dressed in black robes, wore the same mask their leader did. There was no mercy to be found among the sea of cold eyes on him. 

The room was lit only by candles placed in the alcoves that lined the stone walls. These seemed to be shrines in the Demon's honour. Each one held a candle and a sculpture of the fiend carved out of deep red wood, decorated with the leaves of poisonous plants and various bones. Matthew tried very hard to push the question of where they'd gotten those bones out of his mind. If this was where he would die, he'd rather not think about those he was about to join.

The circular stone altar at the end of the room was his final destination. If he had any strength, he might have tried to wriggle out of the ropes and run. His captors were, unfortunately, smarter than to let that happen. He was only ever given enough food and water to keep him alive. At first, when they came into his pen bearing a knife, it took four of them to hold him down long enough to pierce his flesh and carve in the beginning of their profane symbols. It only took one to hold him down and finish the unholy scripture three days ago. 

Tears he didn't know he had left slipped down his cheek as he was finally forced to kneel on the stone altar. The carvings that were forever scarred in his flesh, up his freckled arms and down his back, were mirrored on the obsidian rim that surrounded him now. There was no need to tie him down to anything. Once he was on the ground, he knew there was no strength in him to get back up. All he could do was sob as the High Priest's hands raised to the sky, silencing the ghoulish crowd before them.  

The profane sermon had begun. 

Much to Matthew's horror, each praise that fell out of the Priest's mouth ignited a symbol on the altar. Each word in an infernal language he didn't understand , each dark promise, each retelling of horrible deeds inflicted upon humanity, all of these in turn ignited more of the circle around Matthew until it was almost completely lit. The sacrifice trembled and wailed for someone, anyone to save him, though he knew it was hopeless. 

If the Gods wanted to rescue him, they would have done it alrea- 

Ker-rack!

Halfway through what was surely the last words Matthew would ever hear, something dark and horrible crashed through the roof and landed in a heap on the stone floor.

The cultists around it backed away, whispering amongst themselves as they did so. This… thing, whatever it was, wasn't what they were expecting. The Demon was taller, right? Had horns? Wasn't it supposed to burst out of the sacrifice's body and be reborn in blood, not punch a hole into their sacred meeting place?

An unnatural wind, cold as the moonlight now cascading through the broken roof, whipped furiously around the thing as it stood. From thin air it conjured a sword made of no metal Matthew had ever seen. After all, what metal shimmered gold under lunar glow?

 At the thing's unspoken command, the wind rushed towards the alcoves on the walls. It stole the fire from each candle and knocked every small shrine down, sending bones and wood clattering to the ground. It carried the small flames, one by one, to the thing's outstretched blade until one couldn't see the metal through flame. 

It leveled the blade at the cultists, and Matthew wasn't sure whether he should be terrified or grateful. 

The men and women around it surely thought, since they were several dozen and it was only one, that they could take it. That mistake proved fatal. 

The being was obviously some kind of divine. No other force could cut through those bearing a Demon's protective amulets as though they were butter. Nothing else could splash stone walls with red and ignite the robes of the very recently deceased in one blow. Nothing else's wrath could be so swift and terrible! Matthew wasn't sure whether his screams joined the many cut off by horrific gurgling. All he knew was that once every last cultist was dead, after every soul in the room had been severed save for his own, it was alarmingly quiet. 

The thing stepped into the pool of moonlight made by it's entrance and paused to catch it's breath. Finally, Matthew got a good look at it. 

At him, rather. His feathered wings were cloth ripped from the fabric of night itself. His eyes, still wild from battle, were swirling red nebulas set into the bloodsplattered face of the moon. His steps were even and measured as he walked towards the sacrifice, blade held at his side. 

Matthew flinched and squeezed his eyes shut on instinct. The angel before him was fallen, after all; beholden to no God and no code, if he decided Matthew's life was forfeit too, his blade would find no resistance from demon-marked flesh.

Matthew expected the next (and last) thing he felt to be the bite of that sword. For his abused body to burn, for the fallen one to complete his task and leave no one alive to tell the tale of what happened here. What he didn't expect was a gentle hand under his chin, lifting it slightly and bidding him to open his eyes. 

He did so slowly, expecting to be greeted with the same battle craze and bloodlust. Instead, the clouds of the divine's eyes had cleared, leaving only dolorous pools of crimson to stare back at him. 

"What is your name?" The angel asked. Though it was clear he was trying to be gentle, there was still a commanding edge to his voice.  

"M-Matthew. Matthew, my name is Matthew, Mr. Angel. A-are you going to, um… I-I mean, am I going… to…?"

A breath resembling a chuckle left the divine's lips at the implication. His deft fingers began to work the knots that bound Matthew's wrists together loose, until the bloodstained rope finally fell to the cold stone altar. "You will not die tonight, Matthew. Can you stand?"

Truth be told, Matthew couldn't even find it in himself to try. His strength was gone. Starvation, dehydration, and countless tortures would have been enough of a reason, but something in his very soul had been drained and fed to the ritual. Perhaps something small in him had died along with everyone else in the room after all. All he could do was shake his head. 

This was, apparently, not going to be a problem for the angel. He scooped Matthew up easily, as if he were merely a child and not a man of twenty-three. A soft half-smile illuminated the fallen one's face as he walked towards the moonlight. 

"I can promise you this, Matthew." He began, as he stretched out his mighty wings. One flap, two flaps, and the room that was supposed to spell death was nothing more than a memory. 

"No one's ever going to hurt you again. Not as long as I'm around."

[vacpion]

DnD Au

Italy- Bard (Creation)

Japan- Ranger (Hunter)

Germany- Artificer (Armorer)

If your wondering why i uploaded twice it's because i redid Germany and the shading

[yohanndsome]

Usuk Week 2024 day 1

Prompt: Road trips/Fantasy or Fairytale AU

Kinda winged the dragon, reference heavily used

[starsilversword-art]

A portuguese elf. Fantasy au? Anyone?

[royaltea000]

Do you guys know what Germania’s human name is - or at least what do you personally call him?

[makeitblueart]

"Do I love you? My God, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches.”

— Westley, The Princess Bride

[arthurianlegend144]

Hetalia Fantasy AU pt.2

Here we have Mercenary Sadik and Cleric Francis. And I am sorry that Francis whole body pose looks horrible, and you can clearly tell who is my favourite child (sorry Francis).

Let me specify about the lore: Francis is an elf cleric, he worships the goddess of love, and he is quite powerful, but he is a bit of a coward. He is currently working to find more followers to his goddess.

Sadik is a mercenary, because he doesn't want to work for just one person, he has been thinking about settling down and open a tavern. He cares a lot about his appearance, he always wants to be well-dressed, and he wears a mask to add something special and intimidating to his appearance.

Below is the post for the part one with Alfred's and Arthur's designs.

https://www.tumblr.com/arthurianlegend144/753014873325191168/let-me-elaborate-on-that-i-am-not-very-tied-down?source=share

[prumanoenjoyer]

For your fantasy au, did you make pru a hospitaller on purpose or was that just from playing with the cross design?

Hehe, good catch! It was indeed meant to resemble a more historical design, mainly because I suck at making fantasy designs and eventually just gave up and made it historical with some extra feathers and golden chains lol. I looked at quite a few different crosses and ultimately thought the more pointy, almost split in half at the edge looking Maltese Cross looked more "edgy" and "sharp", therefore more suitable for a Gilbert design meant to give a villainous feeling. The connection to Sicily and Malta also really spoke to me since this is going to be a PruMano AU for the most part.

Now it might be up to debate whether you can consider the Knights Hospitaller "good" or "evil", probably a bit of both like most things, but I'm willing to be inclined to align them as more good as a bit of a clue...

Okay ramble over I swear

[the-scribe-and-her-scribbles]

iwcb | chapter 14. how to keep wanting without ever getting

It Will Come Back | Chapter 14. how to keep wanting without ever getting | Fae!Prussia x reader

masterlist

chapter summary: Gilbert is left alone in the wake of past and present disasters. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS

word count: 2.9k

chapter warnings: intense violence, blood and gore!, dark! gilbert, character death, fae deceit

tagging list: @jtownraindancer @xxruinaxx @redrosesociety1

(Gilbert didn’t know how long he’d been in his prison. There was nothing that could tell him how much time had passed. 

He’s spent most of it phasing in and out of madness. With the decades of isolation eating away at his mind, he became something unrecognizable, roiling with anger and hate. Every moment of clarity, however small, he used to collect whatever magic he had left in him. Little bits at a time, he collected the sparks of his magic into his center like the hot embers of a smothered fire, until after ages he could form just enough energy to cast Find Soulmate. It’s his last hope, his last shred of self that he sends out, and if it doesn’t work he’ll have nothing left. 

But it does work. 

After what felt like an eternity alone, he finally feels you. You are human, Gilbert realizes. A strange and shocking revelation to him, one that raises problems. You are something Gilbert has never heard of before, a human's short lifespan and lack of magical ability should make them incompatible with the Fae as soulmates. The two of you shouldn’t have been able to tether, but right now, Gilbert couldn’t give a fuck. 

You’re there, your soul is bright and sharp, and just a little skittish, but it's warm. You’re so warm that Gilbert could sob because he’s been so cold for such a long time. 

Don’t step closer, he thinks to himself. I can’t be held accountable for my actions.)

Gilbert can still hear him.  

“I mean really, Gilbert! You should be thanking me. Isn’t this what you wanted? Now your soulmate has no choice but to stay with you! Well, as long she doesn’t drown herself first!” 

Gilbert kneels on the edge of the cliff you just plunged from. His chest is tight and his eyes are wretched wide open in horror and he looks down into the icy river. He waits to see your head emerge through the icy white water, to watch you pull yourself up onto the bank down below.

He doesn’t see you. 

The water continues to rush, the cold bites at his skin, and his breath heaves out of his lungs with a great heaving burn. In his panic, with the tightness in his chest and the pain in his soul, he can’t feel you. The ache drowns you out, and his soul cannot find yours. His stomach drops. No, It can’t be, You can’t be. Vladimir stiffens when their eyes lock. Gilbert pushes to his feet and his fist closes around the hilt of the knife. He doesn’t fully know what he’s done until after. 

His breath puffs into the cold air like smoke coming from his lungs, and his hands tremble with rage. His eyes burn and his vision is red. There’s red everywhere. Splatters of red on the frosted ground, on the leather of his boots, and when he wipes his face, red smears into his white hair. 

Vladimir lies twitching on the frosted ground, he’s choking on his own blood, fresh fear in his eyes and it makes Gilbert purr. “Ple- Pleas- Gilb- Don’t- ah- I won’t-“ He begs in between wet gasps. Gilbert watches him try and crawl away on his belly (It’s hard now that his right arm is torn off). There’s no use in begging, Gilbert wants to say, but he’s too lost in rage to find words. Gilbert is a fae. A cruel, wild creature, a monster that he keeps hidden away inside his preferred form. He’s kept himself locked away for you. For your safety, so you don’t fear him like you did when you first met. 

Vladimir ruined that. You aren’t here now, so there’s no one to temper the monster he is. Ausdaurnd is dropped to the side, close to where you dropped the dagger he gave you before you fell. He won’t need a blade for this. He’ll use his claws, he decides. 

Then Gilbert descends on his old enemy and rips into him. 

Soon again, his senses return. The sound of rushing water just a ways away makes him take a deep breath. A ruined corpse is motionless in front of him, and Gilbert’s whole frame shakes. Warmth tracks down his face, too thin to be blood, and Gilbert lets out a breath that is closer to a growl or a sob. 

He gets up to look for the river. His feet carry him down the mountainside. He looks to where you fell into the water, eyes following down the bank of the ruching river, half expecting to find your body limp in the shallows or your thick cloak snagged on a branch or log, but there’s no sign of you. 

He focuses one more time. Gilbert focuses inward, tries to steady his frantic heart and reaches out once more. 

Please be there, please be there, please be there.

It’s faint and far away, but Gilbert finds you. 

The relief that Gilbert lets out is audible. You’re ok, for now at least, he thinks before it all sinks in. But you’re not here! He takes another breath, but can’t quite catch it. Everything aches. Ancients, what have I done? 

There on the side of a mountain, crumpled in on himself and alone, Gilbert’s heaving turns to sobs, which soon turn to a roar for no one but the wind and trees to hear. 

My love has concrete feet My love has iron bars,  Wrapped around your ankle  Over the waterfall

Gilbert knew that he would need to find his soulmate in order to get out. He didn’t think anything of it. He was Gilbert Beilschmidt, from the house of Beilschmidt. He wasn’t some doe-eyed romantic. No pathetic human would change that. Perhaps it’s for the better. 

Humans live short lives, a near spark in the long lifespan of a faerie. And the fact that your mortal might also mean that you may never feel the soul bond as Gilbert does, certainly not with such overwhelming intensity. 

He doesn’t know how he feels about it. How dare a meek little human yank his soul with theirs and not have to suffer the same torture of longing. 

Gilbert tries to convince himself that this is for the better. If you don’t feel the bond, then he doesn’t have to say anything. He can pretend that it isn’t there. He could grab you from your world, trick you into freeing him, and then send you on your way without any delay. 

(As much as he denied it, some part of Gilbert knew that he was lying to himself. So he could pretend that he never planned to do this to you. So he could have some plausible deniability when you found out. In reality, Gilbert knew he was damned the moment he saw you.)

When the two of pulled yourselves onto the shores of the lake, Gilbert’s first lung-fulls of air were sweeter than anything. He heard you puffing beside him, wet clothes clinging to your skin, and he felt the pull in his chest immediately. It was gentle but clear and obvious. 

Gilbert watched as you stood at the edge of the lake. Your hair was dripping wet, your breath coming in soft, white puffs. You stared off to the other side of the lake, where the Great Veil’s mist had hung like a curtain. That was your way back, and Gilbert found himself holding his breath. 

He shouldn’t have been. Gilbert should’ve been able to speak. You had freed him from the Library. He really doesn’t need you anymore. He could’ve pointed in the direction of the Great Veil, watched you walk through the mist and he’d never see you again. He doesn’t, however. The words aren’t even half-formed in his tongue. 

You were clever and extremely smart. Gilbert wondered if you would figure out that that was where you needed to go to get back, that it was that easy. A ball of dread formed in his stomach. Please, don’t ask me what that is, a tiny voice inside him prayed. I don’t want to lose you yet. Gilbert pretends not to hear it. 

When you looked back at him, none the wiser to the truth of the misty forest, that little voice laughed in relief. You didn’t ask about the mist that swirls on the other side of the lake, and you followed Gilbert up to his old castle. 

A better man would let you go, (I’m just the monster dragging you home)

Gilbert thinks of his first night back in the Wandering Woods. Seeing the ruins of the castle had frayed Gilbert’s nerves. 

Anything from his old life was decayed and derelict and he still couldn’t quite comprehend how long he was trapped away in his prison. He was antsy and half expecting to wake up from this dream to find himself back in that cold dark place, with you having never been with him. 

So instead of wandering around his castle alone, he stays with you. His skin tingles as phantom strings pull him towards you. His chest was tight when he looked at you, standing in front of the fireplace to warm yourself with the burning remains of his home. You’re voice reached his ears and made his head buzz. 

Of course, you asked him if he could send you back, and Gilbert is immediately faced with a problem. In fact, it's his one major problem. Gilbert doesn’t want to send you back. 

He twisted the truth, said he couldn’t send you back, and it’s not technically wrong. He doesn’t think his soul could handle the trauma of ripping you away from it. His half-truth shattered you, and from then on, you were painfully skittish around him. Gilbert knew you didn’t trust him. He tried to comfort you, said he would protect you, but it’s not enough. 

You want to go home. You’re human, being in his realm is unsettling and it seems that the soulbond is only working on his side, a fact that is annoying him more now that he’s the only one feeling its intense effects.

When the two of you encounter Arthur’s thugs in the nearby village, the intensity of the soul bond becomes a problem. 

Since the moment Gilbert found you, you’ve been by his side. You were hiding with him from your attackers, until you weren’t. 

The shriek you’d let out when one of them grabbed you sent ice through him. One of their grubby hands bruised your face trying to force spirit berries down your throat. They made you cry and they paid for it in blood. Everything narrowed down to a pinpoint and he couldn’t stop it. One minute, Arthur’s men were screaming, and the next, they were dead at his feet. His hands were stained black, he tasted the blood in his mouth. 

He decides then that he can’t let you go. He needs to keep you safe, even if right then you trembled when you looked at him. In his worst moment, Gilbert thinks about the spirit berries as a solution. A selfish awful thing he could do to ensure he could have you. It filled him with shame, but that dark voice was still there. You could never leave him, you’d stay forever safely with him, and he could spend eternity earning you’re forgiveness

You and I nursing on a poison that never stung Our teeth and tongues are lined with  the scum of it.

From across the crude dinner table of Ludwig's cabin, Gilbert can feel his younger brother's intense gaze. In that way, he was like their grandfather. 

“Does she know?” He asks, his voice isn’t as angry as Gil expected. It’s only simmering under the surface.

“About what?” Gilbert tries to act clueless

“What?” Ludwig fights to keep his volume down. “You know what I’m talking about! Did you tell her that she’s your mate?” 

“No.” 

“Then what did you tell her,” His tone is low and angry. “Because she seems to think that she’s stuck here.” 

Gilbert cringes and Ludwig’s simmering rage boils over.

“I cannot believe you.” He grinds out.

“Keep your voice down!” You’re still asleep. Gilbert can feel you in his subconscious. His connection to you tells him of your fitful state. He wants to storm up there and hold you against him. He could comfort you. He’d chase away the nightmares, even if they were probably about him. 

“She’s your true mate, your chosen one, and you’re lying to her,” Ludwig whispers.

“I’m not lying. I’m omitting details.” 

“You’re putting her in danger. She’s a human, she doesn’t belong here.” 

“I know that she’s human! I can keep her safe!”

“If you want to keep her safe, send her back.” Ludwig glares. Gilbert finds himself snarling. He crosses the room to where his brother is in a flash. Ludwig steps forward to meet him with a steely face. 

Gilberts growls out, “No! I’m not-” before he catches himself. He looks away from his brother, his rage cooling to distress. 

Ludwig sighs. “Gilbert, she doesn’t deserve this. You need to tell her the truth.”

“If I do that, she’ll leave.”

“She might.”

“She’s my soulmate. I can’t let her go yet.” Gilbert hates how pathetic he sounds. His grandfather would call him selfish. A child. “I just found her.”

“If she finds out what you’re doing, you’ll surely lose her.”

“Then she’ll never find out.” He says those words and feels Fate laugh at him. “It won’t matter,” it whispers like a curse. “You know what’s coming.”

Don’t you give me up, Please don’t give up, Honey, I belong  With you, only you

Consuming spirit berries is nasty business. The juice of one causes the soul of its victim to bind to the Fae realm. It's excruciating to feel your essence bent to the will of the Unseen Realm. Gilbert can feel your soul twist and twitch. The strings of Fate and Fae Deals that connect the two of you tug and pulse with your distress.

A sick thing claws inside his chest. The ache is hollow and consuming. His skin feels too tight, the magic that he normally tries to hide under it to avoid scaring you fights to the surface. His eyes burn. A quick look at his reflection in a frozen puddle shows his sclera are still pitch black, his iris’ still glow like molten iron. It won’t go away now, no matter how hard he tries to make it. 

So Gilbert moves through the forest. Walks until he reaches the border of his woods. He feels it shifting, its trees and their branches creek and scratch as his woods whisper to him in a language long forgotten. He follows the river. His boots fall heavy into the ground and he feels more beast than Fae. Maybe those things are the same. He follows the pull in his chest, as slight as it is. Like a dog, he follows you. 

Just because these woods are Gilbert’s doesn’t mean they are kind to him. To his right, he hears you laugh and whips his head in that direction. He stumbles and nothing is there. In another direction, he hears you whisper. He can’t make it out. From the corner of his eye, he thinks he sees you lean out from behind a tree. When he reaches it, you’re not there but the whispers are louder and living guilt in his chest posits what this vision of you is whispering to him. 

This is his fault. 

He wasn’t fast enough to stop you. He wasn’t strong enough to free himself without you. He wasn’t brave enough to tell you the truth in the first place. 

And now he is left in the wreckage of his choices. His soulmate is off alone in the Unseen World, running from him into more danger than you know. An ancient poison is ripping through you, with no guarantee that a cure would be possible. 

The best healer he knows is on the other side of the woods, and Lukas and Arthur are no doubt getting ready to start their plan, despite missing the third in their trio. No, no, no, he thinks. Gilbert has no time he thinks. Thoughts racing, dark magic and smoke swirling just under his skin as he looks in the reflection of the water. 

He reaches down, and cups his hands into the icy river, bringing it to his face to rinse himself off. When he reopens his eyes, they are back to their normal state, still red like berries but not glowing menacingly. 

Gilbert doesn’t have time. He needs to find you, he’ll worry about a cure when he brings you back with him. 

Freshly disowned in some frozen devotion, No more alone or myself I could be.

Author’s Note

I am so sorry for the wait! It's been a year, OMG! I’ve had a wild time this year, jeez. I was swamped with work, graduated, had a little mental breakdown, started a really intense summer job, then started an even more intense program this fall. So long story short, I’ve had no time to write but I'm so glad I’m back cause I was really looking forward to this chapter. 

quotes (in order)

1. Heavy in Your Arms by Florence + The Machines

2. I stole it from the title of a REALLY fucked up Resident Evil Fanfic on Ao3. Like really, it was fucked up.

3. Sedated by Hozier

4. Dark Red by Steve Lacy

5. Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene by Hozier 

[disacurveball]

Day 2: Royalty/ Nostalgia/ Fantasy 

@asakikuweek2024

( It’s day 2 here guys. I swear. )

[histeryczkaa]

nyo!Poland apreciation

Felicja and her pink cute armour, I know it's not how it looks but let me have dreams

idk what mochi usa is doing in my WW1 notes but he is here and not going anywhere so I just kinda accepted that

should be focusing on my classes but then again I'm just a girl ✨💖😋