#his role as prince determines he will always be held at a distance from his world and that's best conveyed thru his relationships with dias

[ruler-of-thorns]

Malleus having older sibling trauma. Malleus resenting how Lilia is able to openly express being Silver's parent but had to keep Malleus at arms length because of their roles. Malleus having to know someone who was presumably initially very cold and softened only as he was growing older while Silver had a very openly loving father immediately. Malleus being the child who taught Lilia how to parent and love. Malleus never feeling like Lilia truly loved him after seeing how he was able to love Silver. Malleus loving Silver because they're brothers and at the same time resenting him for having the father he always wanted.

[monarhrh]

Leonor’s thoughts swirled like a tempest as she stood with Elliott, their hands clasped together. The weight of his words hung in the air, echoing in her mind: "But I would rather fight with you than be caught in bliss with anyone else." Those words resonated deeply within her, stirring emotions she had long kept buried under layers of duty and diplomacy. Her gaze drifted to Elliott’s face, tracing the lines of his features. He was a Bonaparte, a prince of a house that had stood in opposition to her own family’s allies, the Ortiz. Spain, a land of rich history and culture, was also a land of division and conflict. It was a nation that had shaped both of them, instilling in them a fierce loyalty and a desire to see it prosper. Yet, it was also the very thing that had kept them apart, forcing them into roles that pitted them against each other. Leonor’s lips curved into a wry smile, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "You know," she began, her voice tinged with a playful edge, "I actually enjoy our fights. There's something exhilarating about the way you keep me on edge."

She met Elliott’s gaze, her expression a blend of mischief and sincerity. "A delicate heart? Hardly," she replied with a playful smirk. "You know I’m far from the damsel waiting in a tower. I thrive in the chaos, and I’ll always choose the battlefield over a life of passivity." Leonor’s eyes sparkled with determination. "And as for that promise?" She held his gaze, unwavering. "I promise we’ll find each other, no matter the distance or the obstacles. Our paths may twist and turn, but I refuse to believe they won’t intersect again."

The raven haired woman savored the kiss, allowing it to unfold at its own pace. There was a sense of harmony in the moment, each note resonating in a way that felt deeply familiar. She melted against him, her fingers weaving into his hair as she deepened the connection. The world around them faded, the weight of their responsibilities and the chaos of their lives temporarily forgotten. As Elliott traced his thumb along the curve of her jaw, Leonor’s heart raced, echoing the unspoken words that hung in the air between them. She pulled him closer, instinctively seeking that connection, as if their souls were intertwining in a dance of their own. Each heartbeat resonated with the promise of something deeper, something worth fighting for.

"Like many things that stand between us." Beyond his charm, there is Spain to consider. A nation that, for all its faults, kept them diametrically opposed. Contrasting perspectives on the way forward for their homeland, leaving them caught in this halfway house of love and uncertainty. "But I would rather fight with you than be caught in bliss with anyone else." Leonor and Elliott were not made for ordinary loves, or simply lovely marriages. It's that recognition that always leaves a nagging voice in the back of his head; did she have it with her ex-husband? Or was he, like many others, a cog in a political plot?

"My restlessness only guarantees risk. If you were a more delicate heart, I'd worry you'd await me in some tower by the sea." But he knew Leonor; tough as nails, resilient as anything. She would sooner be the opposing Queen on a chessboard than ever be a pawn, laying in wait for Elliott to pursue his crown and come back to her. "You cannot get rid of me that easily." He exhales, lips ghosted just above hers. A sharp inhale to take her in; the perfume on her person, the warm charge of her skin against his. "I plan to live, boldly and brightly. Now," he lifts her chin. "Promise me - we find each other at the end of the line."

There is no hesitation in her kiss, but no urgency either. In here, they are blessed with the gift of time, and Elliott kisses her like the opening note of a concerto. Slow and purposeful, building with heady passion. He pulls her closer, tracing his thumb along the slack of her jaw. Finally, he is home.

[corvus--rex]

This prologue is going on longer than I thought, but it will be over soon, probably one more short chapter. But until then, I'm so sorry, have some baby Keith angst.

one more for the Galra cat glossary: tehrl - a miniature feline (smaller than a housecat) that are kept as pets and pest control

~*~*~*~

They had been traveling for over a day, stopping only when necessary. It was night again, and Krolia sat in the carriage, watching the landscape pass by, the sleeping form of her kit curled against her side. She tucked the soft blanket around him more snugly, a tender smile on her lips as he let out a soft, contented purr and snuggled harder against his mother. One hand kept him close while the other reached under the neckline of her traveling dress to pull out the depiction of Marmora she always wore.

Marmora was the Galra central goddess. A queen of legend, she was deified after her death for having managed to unify the disparate Galra kingdoms against a common enemy. Before then, the Unilu hadn’t been thought of as a threat by anyone, the race of small, four-armed goblins more of an annoyance than anything. But they were clever, and made up for their size with numbers. They knew that to attack a place like Altea was suicide, but the constantly-warring Galra kingdoms would be far easier. Marmora called for the separate kingdoms to unify under her banner to go to war against the threat. While they tacitly agreed at first, soon the other kingdoms realized that they never would have survived without her leadership. The Unilu were soundly defeated and Marmora led the Galra to a new age for their race, one that had continued for generations.

Krolia ran her thumb across the relief set into her medallion. The ancient Galra queen stood proudly, her sword-bearing arm held high, the other holding a ball of violet flame. She stared at it, drawing some comfort from her ancestor before letting the pendant drop. She turned back to the carriage’s small window and watched the land change from the deep, dark woods of Daibazaal to the green forests of Altea. It would take at least another two days of travel to reach the capitol. They would arrive exhausted from their journey and she could only hope that she would reach it before any messenger from Zarkon and that King Alfor would welcome them.

The little prince had no trouble keeping himself occupied during his waking hours, something Krolia was infinitely grateful for. He still believed that they were on a surprise vacation and that they would be meeting his father somewhere along the way. She kept it to herself, but she had felt their bond snap when they were not far from the castle. She knew what the stretch of distance felt like, the pain of longing for her mate when they were separated by royal duty. This was not that. This was a ship’s line breaking, the thick rope hitting her like a whip’s crack. This was glass shattering on a stone floor, glittering shards spread wide. It left her raw and bleeding, with a deep ache for a mate she would never see again. Krolia let herself feel it only in the dark of night, where she would wrap herself in her voluminous cloak tighter, hold her kit closer, and let the tears fall silently.

Another full day of traveling through Altea, and Keith was beginning to become bored of the endless carriage ride. Leaving his coloring on the floor, he climbed onto the seat and into his mother’s lap, immediately finding the soft fur of his tail and running his tiny claws through it.

“Where are we going, Mama?” he asked. “When are we gonna get there? Where’s Papa?”

Krolia sighed. She knew her kit’s inquisitive nature wouldn’t stay quiet for long and that she would have to tell him sooner rather than later. She decided that answering his questions in order would be best.

“We’re going to Altea, little one. We should be there around this time tomorrow.” She paused, knowing that there were parts of their last night in their home that weren’t for little ears. “Your Papa – he’s – I’m so sorry, kit. Your Papa won’t be coming with us.”

Keith was too young to understand what his mother wasn’t saying. “Why?” he asked innocently, “Did Papa hafta go on a trip again?” He was familiar with his father’s diplomatic meetings, sometimes in places far from the Daibazaal capitol and their home.

Krolia sighed again, willing her tears back. “No, kit. There are bad people in our home now, and I don’t know when we’ll be able to go back. We’re going to Altea to ask for their help. Your Papa sacrificed himself so we could get away safely.”

The kit’s face screwed up in confusion. “What bad people? And what’s sa…sack-if-iced?”

“People your Papa and I thought we trusted. One of the generals of our army, Zarkon. He wants to rule Daibazaal himself instead of your Papa. He decided to take what he wanted, and your Papa died so we can be safe.”

Keith only had a vague understanding of death. His only encounter with it had been when his pet tehrl died after being poisoned by an angry former member of castle staff. Their dismissal, to no one’s surprise, had been due to behavioral problems and killing the small prince’s beloved pet had earned them a stay in the city jail for a few months. Keith at first couldn’t understand why the miniature feline wouldn’t play with him like it always did. But his guard sent for the queen, and Krolia explained that the tiny cat had died and what that meant. She allowed her small kit to hold something of a funeral for the animal, but his child’s attention span moved on to something else not long after, even though she knew he still missed his companion. It seemed that the meaning of death hadn’t progressed in his mind beyond his lost pet, and it was a concept he couldn’t quite apply to his father.

“You remember Rrahr?”

Keith nodded, thinking back to finding his tehrl motionless on the floor by its food dish. Something clicked, and he looked up at his mother, eyes wide. “Is that what happened to Papa?” he asked, his voice trembling, “Did the bad people hurt my Papa so he can’t come back?” His ears flattened and his tail dropped, suddenly afraid of his mother’s answer.

“They did. I am so sorry, little one. Your Papa’s not coming back.”

Violet eyes quickly filled with tears that spilled over, leaving dark stains running down the fine, soft fur, and he scrambled in his mother’s lap, throwing his arms around her neck, sobs racking his small body. Krolia held him, running her claws through his hair, trying to hold it together for him. But she couldn’t, not in the face of her son’s innocence, and held him tightly while her own tears fell, privately mourning the loss of King Davvik in the roles he cherished most; those of beloved Alpha and mate to Krolia, and the devoted and loving father to his young son. She held Keith until his sobs subsided into hiccupped tears and finally into the even breath of sleep. When she was sure she wouldn’t wake him, Krolia tucked herself against the back of the deep velvet cushion and wrapped her thick cloak around her sleeping kit, and let sleep take her as well.

Keith was withdrawn and quiet for their last day of travel. His toys and pencils couldn’t hold his attention, and he sat beside Krolia, arms wrapped around his stuffed rakhai and stared out the window. He only perked up the smallest amount when they entered Altea’s capitol. He saw the glowing white spires of the castle and turned to his mother, tugging on her sleeve.

“Is that where we’re going, Mama?” he asked quietly.

Krolia nodded. “Yes, it is, kit. We haven’t been stopped by the city guard, so it looks like we’re safe for now. I’ll need to talk to King Alfor and then I’ll know what’s going to happen, alright?”

Keith sniffled, burying his face in his favorite stuffed animal. “I want Papa,” he said through a new round of tears.

Krolia picked him up, hugging him in her lap. “I know, kit. I do too. We’ll just have to take our home back for him.” The combination of finally arriving in Altea’s capitol city and her son’s grief gave her new determination. Queen Krolia of Daibazaal would reclaim her throne, restore Marmora’s line, and ensure that no one would ever forget what happened that night.

~*~*~*~

Intro | Prologue pt 1 | Prologue pt 2

[dwellordream]

“Contemporary readers might find themselves almost suspicious of how little there is in Victorian lifewriting to shock or surprise; can their lives really have been this dull? Deficient in arresting details and blandly uniform, Victorian lifewriting does not foster any illusions that it accurately records the historical past. But lifewriting was not pure fiction, and its very adherence to rules and commitment to typical daily life makes it a far more valuable source than conduct literature, medical writings, or police records for understanding how conventions shaped lived behavior. Consider the example of transvestism. Cross-dressing could lead to scandal and arrests, but lifewriting attests that many youths who adopted the clothes of the other sex were treated as amusing pranksters. 

In her 1857 autobiography Elizabeth Davis recalled “enjoying” herself “extremely” when she dressed as a man to accompany a fellow housemaid to a party and noted that her employers simply “laughed” when they caught her. In the 1840s a young woman living in London wrote to a cousin in the country about putting on a play with other girls for their fathers and mothers: “I have two parts, the good Fairy and the Lord Chamberlain because he sings a song, and he wears a turban and baggy trousers and I wear a beard and moustache.” Other accounts described boys dressing as girls and sallying forth in public to the amusement of all in the know. 

Victorian lifewriting exposes other gaps between myth and reality. Conduct books confined women to the private sphere, but in fact, many informally participated in politics. Amanda Vickery has pointed out the dearth of research on women’s consumption of newspapers, an increasingly political medium after 1750; lifewriting shows that many ordinary middle-class women who complied with gender norms actively read newspapers and discussed political events with their fathers and husbands. Katharine Harris’s journal documents how a middle-class teenage girl tracked the revolutions and cholera epidemics of 1848 as carefully as she followed changes in fashion and the dramas of her social circle.

Women’s diaries and correspondence also modify our image of Victorian feminism as a powerful but marginal movement; though suffrage was a divisive issue, an otherwise silent majority supported female higher education, with many writers asserting that “women have brains, and given equal opportunities, can do as good work as men.” Mary, Lady Monkswell (1849–1930) never formally participated in politics except as the wife of a man who held several government positions, but in 1890 she recorded her pride that a woman had attained the highest score on the Cambridge Mathematical Tripos: “Every woman feels 2 inches taller for this success of Miss Fawcett.”

Female friendship emerges in Victorian lifewriting as a fundamental component of middle-class femininity and women’s life stories. Because the letters women exchanged with male suitors were often deemed too private or compromising for publication, and because wives had few occasions to write to husbands whom they lived with, letters between female friends and kin were the most common and copious source for documenting women’s lives. Anna Bower’s correspondence with three women who had been her friends since school days made up the bulk of a 1903 edition of her diaries and letters.

The Memoir of Mrs. Mary Lundie Duncan (1842) drew heavily on the communication between Mary Duncan and a lifelong friend. The many letters included in the published version of Mary Gladstone Drew’s diaries and correspondence were addressed to her cousin and friend Lavinia. The editor of Lady Louise Knightley’s journals identified the central figure of the early volumes as Louise’s cousin and “inseparable companion” Edith, with whom Louise exchanged daily letters when they were separated between 1856 and 1864 (12). The emphasis on female friendship in Victorian women’s lifewriting mirrored the ways in which didactic literature defined it as an expression of women’s essential femininity. 

In The Women of England and The Daughters of England, Sarah Ellis articulated the tenets of a domestic ideology based on strict divisions between men and women. She counseled women to accept their inferiority to men and to cultivate moral virtues such as selflessness and empathy as counterweights to the male virtues of competitiveness and self-determination. Ellis praised female friendship for several reasons. It trained women not to compete with men by requiring them not to compete with one another; it fostered feminine vulnerability by developing bonds based on a shared “capability of receiving pain”; and it reinforced married love by cultivating the sexual differences that fostered men’s desire for women (Women, 75, 224). 

In The Daughters of England, Ellis explicitly argued that friendship trained women to be good wives by teaching them particularly feminine ways of loving: “In the circle of her private friends . . . [woman] learns to comprehend the deep mystery of that electric chain of feeling which ever vibrates through the heart of woman, and which man, with all his philosophy, can never understand” (337). Ellis argued that female friendship produced marriageable women by intensifying the opposition between the sexes, but she then undid gender differences by positing similarities between friendship and marriage. The emotions fostered by friendship were also those required for marriage, leading Ellis to call marriage a species of friendship, and friendship “the basis of all true love” (Daughters, 388). 

Far from compromising friendship, family and marriage provided models for sustaining it; female friends exchanged the same tokens as spouses and emulated female elders who also prized their friendships with women. Marriage rarely ended friendships and many women organized part of their lives around their friends. Louise Creighton (1850–1936), married to an Anglican vicar and eventually the mother of six children, wrote letters to her mother in the 1870s that often mentioned extended visits from her childhood friend Bunnie and other married and unmarried female friends. 

Just before she acceded to the throne, Princess Victoria wrote of her governess Lehzen as “my ‘best and truest friend’ I have had for nearly 17 years and I trust I shall have for 30 or 40 and many more.” On the day Victoria married Albert, Lehzen gave the queen a ring, and their pledges of an enduring bond held true, with Lehzen ensconced at court long after the queen’s wedding. Like any monarch, Queen Victoria practiced a politics of display, but what she performed most vigorously was her adherence to domestic middle-class ideals.

It is therefore not surprising to find her commitment to lifelong friendship echoed in the aspirations of Annie Hill, a middle-class girl who in 1877 wrote to her friend Anna Richmond, “I do not see why we should not keep up writing to one another all our lives like Aunt Maria and her great friend have done.” The friendships that created bonds between individual women also forged a sense of connection between generations. Friendship and marriage could be overlapping and mutually reinforcing. While engaged to her husband-to-be, Mary Duncan sent him poems and the gift of a hair brooch, and at the same time wrote a poem for her best friend, whom she addressed as “loved one” and “dear one” (163, 179–80, 147). 

Just as Duncan experienced no conflict in loving her fiancé and her friend, other women expressed affection for friends by hoping they would happily marry. Writing in 1865 of the friend who came “to bless my life,” twenty-three-year-old Louisa Knightley fantasized about her eventual wedding with a sense of pleasure rather than incipient loss: “I have grown to love Edie very dearly—the Sleeping Beauty, whom life and the world are slowly awakening. May the enchanted Prince soon come and touch the chord that will rouse her from the dreams of childhood and make of her the perfect woman!” (105–6). 

….Lifewriting confirms the links conduct literature made between female friendship and conventional femininity, for only women invested in portraying themselves as atypical failed to write of their friendships. Women who succeeded in masculine arenas and advertised their exceptional achievements in published autobiographies often accentuated their distance from standard femininity by downplaying the role that female friends played in their lives. Battle painter Elizabeth Butler (1846–1933), pedagogue and professional author Elizabeth Sewell (1815–1906), and radical activist Annie Besant (1847–1933) all omitted the rhapsodic descriptions of friendship that characterized lifewriting by women eager to demonstrate how well they had fulfilled the dictates of their gender.

Outright disdain for female friendship was rare. One of the few extant examples of a woman mocking female friendship is an exception that proves the rule. A sophisticated transplant raised in Paris by parents from the Anglo-Irish gentry who returned to England in 1868, Alice Miles was eager to distinguish herself from her earnest English relatives. In a diary that remained unpublished until the late twentieth century, she wrote that women were obligated to marry for money, not love. Her contempt for British domestic sentiment led her to dismiss the earnest devotion between female friends she encountered in England as hypocrisy or stupidity. She believed instead in “the natural aversion women always seem to entertain towards each other and the still more decided preference they habitually evince towards mankind!”

 Nevertheless, Miles enjoyed forming a friendships with a young woman “perfectly acquainted” with every “naughty story . . . making the tour of London,” whom she praised as “a regular little rose bud . . . looking perfectly bewitching.” Even the cynical Miles, who believed that affection between woman was merely a “sign . . . that a man is at the bottom of the emotion,” could not resist the pleasure she took in a woman pretty and wicked enough to be a potential rival. Successful women who represented themselves as proper ladies defined their lives in terms of their friendships with women as well as their devotion to family and church.”

- Sharon Marcus, “Friendship and Play of the System.” in Between Women:  Friendship, Desire, and Marriage in Victorian England

[seasonofthewicth]

A Groovy Kind of Love - Chapter 6

AN: I feel like I’ve got my mojo back with this fic a little bit, this was so fun to write and I hope it’s fun to read too!

masterlist

------

First days were always nerve-racking, and this one was no different.

Aelin knew she had no real reason to be nervous other than the fact it was new, she had prepared what she needed, even taking extra time this morning to make sure she had put on a swipe of make-up and a smart outfit to feel primed for the day.

She’d taken it upon herself to wake Fenrys up half an hour earlier than normal to make sure he would be ready to leave on time, she knew he normally rocked up to the school right on the bell, but she needed to be at least five minutes early to meet the principal, lest she look unprepared.

Fenrys had left her outside the principal’s office, waiting for the woman to arrive, taking in the blue carpet of the floor and the wooden panels of the walls. The school was in an old building, with mostly traditional décor that gave it character unlike her old school. She liked it. Even though the chair she sat in was hard and uncomfortable as she shifted her weight while she waited for the principal to appear.

She had been thankful for Fenrys’ comforting presence in the car on their way, he had chattered away filling her in on the harmless school gossip, distracting her from her worries about the new school, but now he was gone, off to teach his own classes for the day, the nerves had settled back in.

He had been almost more excited than Aelin about her new role, glad to have her at the school, and he had championed most of the drinking the night she had found out. She had had a great night, each of her friends seemed genuinely happy for her and had toasted to her all night, even once she had gone to bed they had continued to celebrate.

She hadn’t managed to quiz Lysandra after her kiss with Aelin’s cousin, whenever Aedion came up between the two Lysandra had been quick to change the subject, embarrassed at her drunk actions and the fact that they had even played truth or dare at all.

Aedion had recovered well, from Lysandra’s determined ignorance of his existence every time she saw him since, and Aelin was relatively sure he had brought a guest home from the night she hadn’t made it out to and had instead gone to bed.

Gone to bed might have been putting it generously, she remembered the way Rowan had guided her to her room. A gentle hand making sure she didn’t stumble, tucking her sheets over her and leaving a glass of water for her to down in the morning.

Her heart gave a squeeze at how gentle he had been.

Heels clacked against the cheap flooring and she glanced up. The woman striding towards her was dressed smartly in a black pencil skirt and a navy blue blouse. She had a couple of decades on Aelin, but her dark locks didn’t have even a hint of grey, nor did her harsh face have the beginning of a wrinkle.

The woman strode up to Aelin and presented her with a hand.

“Miss Galathynius I presume? Welcome to our school.” Her voice was stern but polite and Aelin stood and shook the hand she was offered. “I’m Maeve Valg, Principal, we’re glad to have you on board. Please follow me.”

The woman, Maeve, led the way into the office Aelin had been sat outside. Aelin nodded, greeting the woman and following her in.

Inside the office it was tidy, shelves lined the walls, overflowing with books and files, but organised in a way that Aelin was jealous of. Her own organisation wasn’t lacking, it couldn’t be, as a teacher she needed to know where things were, but she could never reach this level of military-style precision.

The Principal took a seat behind the large wooden desk in the centre of the room and Aelin dropped to the seat on the other side, facing her.

“Welcome,” She said again, a polite smile on her lips.

“Thank you, it’s great to be here.” Aelin said, folding her hands in her lap.

First impressions were important, and she knew she’d be able to get away with much more at a later date if she gave Maeve the initial impression that she was to be trusted.

Maeve nodded.

“It’s great to have you here, I was impressed with your interview, and I’m confident that you will fit into our school ethos well.”

Aelin smiled. She knew from Fenrys that the school valued the community spirit and communication between teachers a departments, she was excited to get stuck in. She told Maeve as much and she received another slight smile.

A knock sounded at the door behind her and Maeve called for whoever was on the other side to come in.

“Ah yes,” Maeve said standing from behind her desk. “I’ve invited Mr Havilliard to show you around. He can give you a bit more information than I can as I have to attend a meeting now.”

Aelin turned to the man in the doorway and saw he was grinning at her.

He was as handsome as a Disney prince, his thick dark hair curled around his ears, and his deep blue eyes were striking and sparkling. She took in his clean white shirt and pressed trousers where he stood. He wasn’t as tall as her roommates, but he still tilted his chin to smile down at her.

“Dorian Havilliard.” He offered his hand. “At your service.”

She shook his hand. “Aelin Galathynius.”

He grinned at her even wider than before. “Follow me Aelin,” He turned to the door with a nod behind her at the principal.

“Thanks,” She smiled at the dark haired woman before following Dorian out the door.

Once in the hall, his posture relaxed, and Aelin adjusted hers in response. He led the way down the nearest hallway, the corridors empty of any students given that the first period had already begun.

“Don’t worry about her, she’s a hard ass, but you get used to it.” He told her, his voice was low and smooth.

“Right, good to know,” She joked. “I was worried.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. She’s like that with me still and I’ve been here for years.”

She blinked; he couldn’t have been much older than her. He must have sensed her confusion, or seen the look that crossed her face, and said, “I’ve been here seven years, got the job straight out of college, worked my way up to be one of the assistant principals last year.”

Impressive, Aelin noted. He must have been at least couple of years older than her then, making him maybe thirty, if her quick mental maths added up.

“What do you teach?” She asked him, curious about that path he had taken to get where he was.

“English,” He told her. “I love it, have loved it since I was a kid.”

Aelin shared his interest, she had loved reading ever since her childhood and her mother had bought her book after book when she devoured the stories one by one. She supposed that was where her interest in history had stemmed from, reading historical fiction had led her to historical non-fiction and she found the tales of knights and kings and queens to be fascinating. Sweeping her away into tales of honour and warfare and romance, distant enough from her reality to transport her away.

They were making their way down the halls, Dorian pointing out the points of interest on their tour, telling her where the cafeteria was, where the main hall and staff rooms were. He showed her where her office would be, and they walked past the classroom that would become hers once she had time to make it her own.

“So,” He turned to her after walking her through the grounds of the school, showing her the sports pitches and athletics track. “What’s your story?”

She pondered his question for a moment, chewing the inside of her lip slightly as she took in his smile and the way he was walking close to her, his shoulders leaning into her own.

“My story?” She shrugged, flicking her eyes out across the field in front of her. “I lost my old job to budget cuts, but I’d been there for a couple of years. I actually moved here after college when I qualified and then got the job pretty much straight away.”

He nodded along as she spoke, a dark curl of his hair bobbing along his forehead as he did, but then he tilted his head at her, a piercing look in his sapphire-blue eyes.

“I knew you weren’t from around here, but I couldn’t place the accent.”

“I’m from Terrasen.” She told him, thinking fondly of her home country and her parents who lived there still. It’s rolling mountains and grassy plains that she had explored as a child, sometimes alone, sometimes with Aedion when him and his parents came to visit.

“My accent isn’t as strong now that I’ve been in Adarlan for so long.”

Dorian only smiled at her. “I like it.”

She smiled, unsure how else to respond. Was it wise to flirt with a colleague? She wasn’t truly sure she wanted to flirt with him, and she fought the part of her brain that flashed an image of Rowan up at her. She was trying her best to keep her distance, at least in that respect.

“I teach history, I love it, but I love reading too. I also live with Fenrys, I don’t know if you know him?”

“Fenrys?” He questioned. “Coach Moonbeam?”

She nodded and watched something flash across his face at the confirmation, something she’d have to ask Fenrys about. If his reputation had ruined her first friendship at the school before it had barely had chance to start she’d kill him.

“Yeah,” She confirmed warily. “We live together. He told me about the opening here.”

“I see.” She couldn’t place Dorian’s reaction to her roommate, so quickly changed the subject.

“Any advice for this school?” She asked as he held the door open for her to re-enter the building.

“Not really,” He huffed a slight laugh, scratching his jaw. “Stick with me, and a couple of other teachers here that are pretty sound, and you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah? You’ll have to introduce me.”

Maybe if she could make her own friends here she wouldn’t have to follow Fenrys around like a lost puppy.

He checked his watch, something silver and clearly expensive before saying, “Actually, I think some of them might be free now.”

He led her back through the hallways to the staff room he had pointed out earlier and pushed into the small room.

There were kitchen counters around the sides, a number of cupboards no doubt stuffed full of mugs and plates, standard for a school staff room. There were tables and chairs dotted about the space and at one of the tables sat a man and two women, each nursing a mug that based on the smell she knew contained coffee.

“Aelin,” Dorian began. “Meet Chaol, Yrene and Nehemia.”

He pointed around the table as he made the introductions.

The man, Chaol, was stern looking but his expression lightened when he offered her a small smile, his copper-brown eyes crinkling at the motion. The woman next to him smiled widely at Aelin, Yrene, was beautiful, and her brown hair fell in spirals down her back, golden highlights standing out. A shining ring on her left hand glinted as she waved at Aelin around her mug.

The final woman, Nehemia, was striking. Her dark skin was smooth and her raven hair, braided down her back, had small elements of gold scattered throughout. Nehemia shot her a sly grin upon introduction, Aelin liked her immediately.

“Guys meet Aelin Galathynius. The new head of humanities, Terrasen native and Fenrys Moonbeam’s roommate.”

At Dorian’s introduction Chaol nearly choked on a mouthful of coffee and Nehemia outright cackled. Aelin needed to ask Fenrys about it.

“Hi Aelin,” Yrene smiled at her, her face kind as she waved a hand at the teachers on either side of herself. “Ignore them, welcome. How is your first day going?”

“It’s fine so far,” Aelin said as she followed Dorian over to where he was fetching a cup of coffee and grabbing her own. “I’ve had a great tour.”

Nehemia laughed again, “Right.” She said sarcastically and Dorian flashed her the finger.

“Where did he show you? I’m sure he probably managed to leave somewhere out,” Chaol cut in, his tone ribbing Dorian again.

“Everywhere, I think. Or at least I’d hope so.” She said, taking her seat next to him, Dorian slotting in on her other side.

“Hmm,” Chaol hummed, shooting an unimpressed look at Dorian who held his hands up, grinning at Chaol.

“I did!” Dorian protested to Chaol who rolled his eyes and sighed a laugh. Aelin laughed along, she could tell Chaol was exasperated, but fond of Dorian.

The dynamic between the group was easy, friendly and teasing, but clearly a very tight knit group. Chaol and Yrene were an adorable couple, very much in love, Dorian had sung at her when she had asked. Nehemia had a killer sense of humour, mostly at Dorian’s expense, but he always laughed along, taking the jokes in his stride.

He had been extremely friendly towards her. Filling all of the gaps in her knowledge without her needing to ask, touching her gently on the arm when he directed the conversation to her.

He was an extremely attractive man, with a charming kind of confidence that she normally would have been all over. Had she met him in a bar, she could see herself sliding into the seat next to him and flashing him a small smile while she accepted the drink he would have offered to buy her.

But they weren’t in a bar, they were at work, and he was technically her boss.

She could hear Lysandra’s warnings, you know it’s a bad idea, she would tut before reassuring Aelin she could find a man anywhere else, that she didn’t need Dorian and his disarming smiles.

Lysandra, as per usual, was probably right.

------

The rest of her day flew by quickly. She had a brief introduction to her classes from Maeve, fresh out of her meeting with the school board, and she had had some time to move her belongings and teaching aids into her classroom. Tomorrow would be her first full day of teaching and she was prepared.

It was only later that evening that she remembered to ask Fenrys about Dorian and his friends’ reactions to his name, even though they had driven home together he had filled the journey with tales of his students and their inabilities to play simple games.

She cornered him in the kitchen as he grabbed a beer from the fridge, resting her hand against the island, blocking his exit as she asked.

“Dorian Havilliard?” He questioned; his face carefully blank.

“Yes, do you know him? He had an interesting reaction to your name.”

More than just that, his friends had outright laughed at Dorian when Fenrys’ name had been mentioned. Surely all of the outlandish situations her imagination was telling her were way off, it had to be something small.

Fenrys sighed, taking a swig of his beer and lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck.

“Dorian Havilliard and I have a history.” He winced as he said the words.

Aelin groaned. She could try to repair any fights they had had; she knew she could definitely blackmail Fenrys into an apology, she liked Dorian and his friends.

“What kind of a history?” She narrowed her eyes.

A blush started on Fenrys’ neck, spreading up to his cheeks.

“A… sexual history.”

“No!” She gasped.

She ran through the interactions she and Dorian had had today. She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks, she had thought he had been flirting with her, complimenting her accent and the way he had been leaning into her. How had she read it so wrong? And Fenrys had a… history with him?

Fenrys bit his lip as he nodded.

“Oh gods,” She groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I thought he was flirting with me.”

Fenrys shrugged, unbothered by both her reaction and his own revelation. “He probably was, to be fair. He flirts with everyone.”

It was that moment that Rowan chose to come into the kitchen.

She fought the small wave of embarrassment at the sight of him, at the thought of the conversation they had had when she thanked him for putting her to bed. She hadn’t been sure whether to mention it or not but decided it would have been worse to not acknowledge it.

He had been graceful, reassuring her with a small smile that it was no bother. Which she appreciated, had the roles been switched she would have made sure he got to bed. Well, she would have tried.

And she was grateful, any of her other roommates probably would have left her on the couch. Lorcan probably would have even taken photos of her passed out, probably would have enjoyed seeing how many things he could have balanced on her sleeping form.  

“Who flirts with everyone?” He asked, stepping around her to get to the fridge.

He was dressed in his usual uniform of jeans and a flannel shirt; this one was green, and it complemented his silver hair.

“Fenrys’ ex, one of the teachers at the school.” She told him, but Fenrys shook his head around a mouthful of his beer.

“Not my ex,” He said once he had swallowed. “It was a one-time thing. Years ago.”

It reassured her slightly that she hadn’t been crazy, and that she had probably picked up on the cues from Dorian correctly.

“He was flirting with you?” Rowan turned to her, pulling his own beer out of the fridge, his tan face unreadable.

“I think so,” She pursed her lips.

“Oh,” Rowan’s voice was quiet, and he looked down to the beer in his hand.

“It was probably nothing,” She found herself saying. “I wasn’t flirting back.”

“You could.” Fenrys said from beside her. “It would be fine with me, he’s a decent enough guy. Good in bed too.”

She pushed him on the arm, and he laughed.

“Didn’t need to know that,” She laughed as she pushed his arm again when he made a suggestive gesture at her. “Get out that’s gross.”

“Didn’t think you were a prude, Galathynius.” He teased, but turned from the room, blowing a kiss at her as he left.

She turned to Rowan, who remained leaning against the counter opposite her, picking at the label on his beer bottle.

“Office romance on day one, huh?” He teased her, his lips twitching with the smirk that was threatening to break through.

“Stop that,” She told him. “It was very light flirting.”

He shrugged at her, taking a sip of his beer.  

“If that even, he probably wasn’t. Or maybe I’m making it up.”

“Now you stop.” Rowan told her; his eyebrows drawn as he pushed off from the counter. “Why wouldn’t he have been flirting with you?”

She raised her eyebrow at him, unimpressed, daring him to continue.

“I’m serious,” He continued, stepping over until he was directly in front of her.

Every time they were close she was struck by how much bigger he was than her. And how good he smelled, his pine and snow combination was clean and fresh, she took a deep breath in.

“Why wouldn’t he want to flirt with you?”

She tilted her head up to look at him, suddenly vulnerable in what had previously been a light-hearted conversation, taking in his serious expression. His eyes were earnest as he looked into her own.

“I don’t know,” She started, not drawing her eyes away from his. She wasn’t sure she was able to. “After Arobynn I haven’t been flirted with for a while.”

She loosed a self-deprecating laugh.

He put his beer down on the counter, resting his hand on the counter by her side, his front was almost pressed up against hers now and her breaths came quickly.

“Of course you have,” He told her, his voice soft. “Maybe you just haven’t noticed.”

She swallowed hard.

He picked up a piece of her hair between two of his fingers, smiling gently as he twisted the strand around a knuckle. Aelin liked his smile, it showed a lighter side of him, and he looked especially handsome when he did.

“I think I would notice if guys had been flirting with me.” Her voice was rough as his other hand came down on the bench by her waist. He boxed her in to the island now, close enough to her to share breath, as he hummed in response.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she felt as if an electric current was thrumming below her skin at his close proximity.

“I’m not convinced.” His voice rumbled over her skin, his breath brushing her ear sending shivers down her spine as she tucked her chin down at the sensation. Her action pinned Rowan’s face in the crook of her neck, but he didn’t pull away, instead he pressed his face into the spot where her shoulder met her neck, breathing her in deeply.

His lips brushed against her neck, their touch feather light.

Aelin couldn’t move. She was sure she was panting now; Rowan’s own breaths had increased their pace where she felt his chest pressing against her own. Each brush lighting sparks along her skin.

She needed to be careful, this would look incriminating to any of their roommates if they walked in now, but she couldn’t connect her brain to her body.

While her rational brain was screaming at her to step away and put some distance between herself and Rowan, her traitorous body urged her to press closer into Rowan. Urged her to press her hips against his own and generate the friction she craved.

Rowan’s brain seemed to work faster than her own as he drew his head back with a hiss, leaning on his heels to put some distance between them. She felt the cold where her body now touched only air.

His green eyes were dark, almost taken over by his pupils as he scanned her face.

He cleared his throat and picked his beer back up of the island.

“I think you’d notice.” He told her with a hint of a smile.

He stepped back from her fully and left the kitchen without another word. She heard his bedroom door close before she managed to breathe again.

She screwed her eyes shut as she squeezed her thighs together, trying to convince herself she felt nothing.

He was a rutting good flirt, damn him. She definitely noticed.

------

tags:

@jesstargaryenqueen​

@maybekindasortaace​

@slytheringalathynius​

@http-itsrebecca​

@morganofthewildfire​

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato​

@fictional-horan​

@tottenhamboys20​

@dressedindustandshadows​

@sleeping-and-books​

@perseusannabeth​

@ireallyshouldsleeprn​

@superspiritfestival​

@aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​

@spyofthenightcourt​

@jlinez​

@queen-of-glass​

@booknerdproblems​

I’ve combined the tag list for this fic and general tog for ease, but I’m not convinced I’ve done it right so let me know if I need to make any changes.

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Can’t Get Rid Of Me (Part 2 to Can’t Lose You)

Pairings: Zuko x Reader

Summary: Part 2 to Can’t Lose You. Y/N has finally found her long lost love but now it’s their responsibility to ensure the end of the Hundred Years War and to bring a new era of peace. 

Warnings: Violence

Word Count: 5600

A/N: There are definitely parts of this that are word-for-word from the show and I do not take any creative credit for those. I strictly take credit for what is my writing. But like... I’m actually kind of proud of this particular two-part series thing I happened to write. It was an idea I had for a while and, while I never planned on writing a second part, I’m glad you guys encouraged me to because I actually like how it turned out (and if you’re a writer, you understand how hard it can be to feel like your work is any good). Thank you all for the support <3 

___________________________________

Joining the avatar’s group was easier than you’d expected but from seeing the hodge-podge group of people, you figured that they had a habit of picking people up as they went along. For the few days you were at Zuko’s old vacation home on Ember Island before leaving, you’d trained with Zuko and Aang, working with the two boys to develop your firebending as much as possible before the battle. That was before Aang disappeared at least and you all went off searching for him, stumbling upon the Order of the White Lotus instead. 

“Are you alright?” You asked Zuko, coming to kneel beside him as he sat outside of Iroh’s tent. 

He shook his head, “My uncle hates me. I know it. He loved and supported me in every way he could, and I still turned against him. How can I even face him?” Though you didn’t see much of who he’d become first hand, Zuko had embarrassingly confessed his mistakes over the years to you, especially those concerning the incident with his uncle. 

“If there is anyone who understands what you’ve gone through and why you would do what you did, it’s your uncle. I don’t think he could ever hate you Zuko.” You remembered the way Iroh used to treat Zuko, especially after Lu Ten was killed, and you knew in your soul that there was nothing Zuko could do to make Iroh truly hate him. 

Zuko glanced over at you with wide eyes, like he was on the brink of tears from just remembering the disappointment in his uncle’s eyes, “But you didn’t see the way he looked at me when I made my decision to rejoin my father.” 

“People are allowed to make mistakes, Zuko. You made your choice then but look at the choices you’re making now. Even if he was disappointed months ago, I think he would be so proud to see what you’re doing now. He loves you more than anything.” Your hand reached out to stroke down his bicep comfortingly. 

He took a deep breath before pressing himself up to stand, “I sure hope you’re right.” 

You spent the night in a tent with Suki, allowing Zuko to have his time to fix things with his uncle. If he needed to talk to you, he knew where to find you. But he didn’t come until morning so you knew it must have gone really well or really poorly. 

The next morning, you found yourself sitting alongside the rest of the group, a bowl of porridge in your hands, the only food you’d eaten in two days and it tasted delicious. Iroh was sitting amongst you all, listening to Zuko as he tried to convince his uncle to come with you all to defeat Ozai, “You can beat him and we’ll be there to help!” Zuko explained passionately. 

“Even if I did defeat Ozai, and I don’t know that I could, it would be the wrong way to end a war. History will see it as just more senseless violence, a brother killing a brother to grab power. The only way for this to end peacefully is for the Avatar to defeat the Firelord.” Iroh countered and it was clear from the way he spoke that his decision on the matter was final. He would not kill his brother. 

This conversation felt wrong to you. Even though Ozai was a terrible man, and you’d seen years of his horrors first hand, it still felt wrong for some reason to be sitting with his son and brother while they conversed about who should get to kill him. But if it was difficult for you to hear, you couldn’t imagine how difficult of a decision it was for them, but mostly for Zuko, which made you so proud of him. He had come so far from that scared little boy, desperate for his father’s love and approval. Zuko had traveled to the ends of the Earth for his father, literally, but was now finding the strength to put everything behind him for the greater good of humanity and, for once, himself. 

Iroh had a very valid point in wanting to avoid direct conflict with his brother. From an outsider’s perspective, the battle would have looked simply like a murder for political gain. You could tell from the look on Zuko’s face that he knew as well. “And then… then would you come and take your rightful place on the throne?” He asked, nearly begged. 

His uncle looked away, “No, someone new must take the throne- an idealist with a pure heart and unquestionable honor. It has to be you, Prince Zuko.” 

Everyone inaudibly gasped at the suggestion. Everyone had a feeling that Zuko would have a large role to play in rebuilding the Fire Nation but nobody had guessed that it would be as Firelord. Zuko looked the most shaken of all, “Unquestionable honor?” He questioned his uncles decision, every regret he had plastered in his eyes, “But I’ve made so many mistakes.” 

“Yes, you have,” Iroh began bluntly, “You have suffered and struggled but you have always followed your own path. You restored your own honor and only you can restore the honor of the Fire Nation.” 

Zuko’s wide eyes flicked from Iroh to you, trying to accept the reality of what this delegation meant. “I agree with your uncle, Zuko. I don’t think the Fire Nation could be rebuilt better by anyone else.” You encouraged, nodding your head sincerely. What you wanted to do was hold his hand and try to give him whatever power, courage, and confidence you had to offer but you resisted, only offering the small but very heartfelt gesture. 

“I’ll try, Uncle.” 

A plan was soon devised as to how you would all plan an attack. Iroh and the rest of the White Lotus would reclaim Ba Sing Se. You, Zuko, and Katara would return to the palace to fight Azula and reclaim the throne as soon as Ozai fell. Suki, Toph, and Sokka would all take down the air ships. 

Before long, you were about to climb up onto Appa’s saddle beside Katara and Zuko, where he already sat with the reins grasped firmly in his hands. Just as you reached to begin your ascent up the large creature you’d quickly fallen in love with, Iroh’s hand gripped your shoulder, “Y/N.”

You stopped and turned back towards the man you’d come to see as family yourself, “Yes?” 

“Azula is strong. Please, keep my nephew safe. Don’t let him get himself killed.” It pained you to hear Iroh say those words, knowing that they held so much more fear than they sounded. The truth was, Iroh didn’t think he could take losing Zuko like he lost Lu Ten. 

You swallowed hard, honestly scared to make such a big promise because you knew that truthfully, anything could happen, and the possibility of any of you not returning was very large. But looking into Iroh’s desperate amber eyes, you couldn’t say anything other than, “I will. You stay safe out there, Uncle.” He smiled a little at the endearing term, something that he hadn’t heard you call him in many years, but loved nonetheless because it made him feel like he had children to love. 

“May we meet again, Y/N.” He pulled you into a tight hug, bringing your body close to his. An overwhelming surge of emotion coursed through you as you told yourself that this could very well be the last time you ever saw anyone. 

“May we meet again.” Your jaw clenched in a desperate attempt to keep your composure and not dwell on the what-if’s, no matter how valid they were. 

The ride over wasn’t too unbearably long but it was spent mostly in silence, everyone too lost in contemplation about the upcoming events to find the energy to say much. You’d never done anything this large in your life. You’d been a servant for the first fifteen years of your life and then a runaway turned bead maker for the last few. The closest thing to combat you’d experienced was training with Zuko and the one time you almost lost control with Azula. None of that could prepare you for the agonizing silence before the storm. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Katara asked you. 

“Hm?” You perked up, shaking yourself out of your thoughts, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just nervous, I s’pose.” 

Your chin rested on your knees as you stared down at the ground hundreds of feet below. The distance down didn’t bother you as much as the feeling of impending doom. “I have to believe that we’ll win,” Katara began softly, “And I know I haven’t known you long but, from what I’ve seen, you’re a very strong bender.” 

There it was, you realized. The reason you were so anxious. “I’ve never actually used it against anyone but Zuko, and even that was only for training purposes. I have never actually had to fight anyone, let alone Azula. I just… I don’t want to let everyone down.” 

“That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself. We’re all in this together, win or lose.” She reassured. Your eyes flickered up to look at Zuko, whose back was turned to you and Katara while he flew Appa. Katara noticed the movement and was about to move to take over flying Appa so Zuko could talk with you but just as she went to go, a bright light streaked overhead. 

All three of you craned your necks to watch the infamous comet streak across the sky, casting an orange glow over everything. “Sozin’s comet…” You breathed out, the celestial object actually much more beautiful than you’d ever imagine but so much more daunting as well. 

Zuko looked back to see your eyes trained on the comet and he felt like he was falling in love with you all over again. Your eyes sparkled with determination and courage in the light of the comet, your hair blew wildly around your face in the wind. You looked like the strongest most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on and he couldn’t wait to kick his sister’s ass and restore the Fire Nation with you. 

When the palace was in sight, Azula’s coronation was already underway. You smirked a little at the twinge of satisfaction that nobody had actually attended the coronation aside from the few people that were required to be there. Clearly, Azula was far from the preferred Fire Lord. 

“We have to stop this now!” Zuko called back to you and Katara just before he landed Appa right in the middle of the courtyard. 

You weren’t sure what exactly was being said when you landed but judging by the scowl on Azula’s face, she was unhappy about it. Before Appa could even touch the ground, Zuko was jumping down onto the ground, “Sorry, but you’re not going to become Firelord today. I am.” 

He stood there solidly, unyielding. You and Katara too jumped down to stand beside him. Azula began to laugh hysterically, “You’re hilarious!” 

“And you’re going down.” Katara threatened. 

You stood to the other side of Zuko, staring down the girl who had been the cause of your torment for over a decade. When you locked eyes with her, she scoffed, “And what? You’re going to beat me with some Water Tribe peasant and a servant? You really are pathetic, Zuzu.” 

Gosh, how you were so ready to just destroy her. But none of you moved, waiting for Zuko’s call. In the end, this really was his fight. 

When Azula noticed that there was no reaction to her insult, an evil smirk spread across her face, “Wait. You want to be Firelord? Fine, let’s settle this,” She suggested, appearing more composed than she had since you’d arrived, which was almost scarier than seeing her look psychotic, “Just you and me, brother - the fight that was always meant to be. Agni Kai!” 

No, this was bad. 

“You’re on.” Zuko accepted the challenge, much to your chagrin. 

You shot a look at Zuko, wondering why on Earth he’d be falling into her trap like this, “She’s trying to separate us!” You hissed at him, “She knows she can’t take us all so she’s testing you.” 

He didn’t look at you, though. He just stared straight ahead, locking eyes with his sister who stared hard and sadistically at him. “I know, but I can take her this time.” His eyes narrowed and Azula’s lip turned upwards in a sick smile. 

“Even you admitted to your uncle that you’d need help defeating her!” Katara insisted, desperately trying to talk him out of the Agni Kai. Even though she wasn’t Fire Nation, she knew how serious an Agni Kai was to your culture and that it wasn’t something to be taken lightly. 

Zuko looked as if he was analyzing his younger sister, “There’s something off about her. I can’t explain it, but she’s slipping. And this way, no one else has to get hurt.” He turned to you and you could almost see the fear in his eyes. Not fear for his own life but for yours and Katara’s. 

You wanted to stop him, wanted to talk some sense into your boyfriend. All you could think about was that promise you made to Iroh. Please, keep my nephew safe. Don’t let him get himself killed. Allowing him to fight alone felt like a direct breach of that promise that you’d had every intention of keeping but something in you told you to let him fight her. “Don’t get hurt.” You gave into his plan, hoping, praying, wishing on everything that you were making the right decision. 

Within a few minutes, you and Katara were standing off to the side of the large outdoor space, watching as Zuko breathed deep, centering himself before the duel. You found yourself almost shaking, the memories of what happened at the last Agni Kai you’d attended flooding your memory. It was as if your vision was flashing from thirteen year old Zuko, begging his father for forgiveness, to now, where he was kneeling away from his sister. Only this time, you knew he wouldn’t be granted the same mercy his father had given him. At least then he got away with his life. With Azula, you knew he wouldn’t be so lucky if he fell short.

Katara was tense herself but could practically feel the air stiffen around you. She glanced over to see your eyes almost glazed over, stuck in a memory she’d never see. The rise and fall of your chest had also stopped with your breathing. “He’s going to be alright.” Katara reassured you, gently grabbing your hand, “He has to be.” 

You looked down at where your hands were joined and squeezed, eyes returning to hers with a small half-hearted smile, just enough to show that you at least partially believed her. With a deep, calming breath, you swallowed the lump in your throat and raised your head high. 

Both siblings came to stand up, shedding the cloaks that were slung over their shoulders. “I’m sorry it has to end this way, brother.” Azula apologized insincerely. 

“No, you’re not.” Zuko’s eyes narrowed, already in a starting stance. 

And just like that, waves of red and blue painted the sky. Roaring flames shot from both Zuko and Azula’s hands, almost deafeningly so. Zuko’s bending was more passionate and stronger than you’d ever seen it before. Azula, on the other hand, seemed less refined and sloppier than her highness had ever allowed herself to be in the past but that did not mean that her bending was any less effective. There was so much rage and power behind both of their strikes. 

You watched Zuko’s moves intensely, mentally trying to tell him what to do, what move might be best, even though you knew that he was a far more well-trained bender than you were. But that was when you noticed that his forms were different than what he’d taught you all those years ago. His stance was wider and he looked more locked in place, like he was a boulder that refused to be moved, when he literally split a powerful flame that Azula sent his way in half. It was something you’d never seen any fire bender do before. In fact, he sort of looked like Toph… 

In a small gap between Azula’s onslaught of attack, Zuko took the offense, his arms moving smoothly and gracefully, expelling a stream of fire that almost could have resembled the way water benders shoot water. Your eyes widened. These were not traditional fire bending moves. Could he be using earth and water bending techniques to fire bend? 

As the flames settled in a small pause, you and Katara noticed that the buildings of the palace were all aflame, slowly burning to the ground in an orange glow. It was a short lived breath of silence though because Zuko interrupted it with a sudden blast of flames at Azula that nearly knocked her off her feet. She managed to catch herself with a jet of blue flames that projected her off the ground and towards her brother. It went on like this, shot after shot in the most heated, equally matched Agni Kai you’d ever seen. 

Suddenly, Zuko dropped to his hands and swung his legs around his body, sending whips of flames at his sister. “Isn’t that airbending?” You asked Katara, though your eyes never left the scene before you. The flame landed and sent Azula flying into the ground with a thud, rolling at least fifteen feet before she came to a stop. 

“I didn’t know you could use other bending techniques for a different element.” Katara too was entranced by Zuko’s conglomerated, unpredictable moves. It would have been beautiful to see fire used in such a way if it weren’t for the fact that you were all in the midst of a life-or-death situation. 

Azula slowly stood up, her eyes crazed beneath her choppy bangs. 

“No lightning?” Zuko taunted, “What? Afraid I’ll redirect it?” 

Dammit, Zuko, you cursed mentally, This is not the time to show off. 

Azula stood, pressing her weight off her knees, “Oh, I’ll show you lightning!” With that, she began her windup. With two fingers, she directed lightning in electric blue streams around her body. Zuko prepared for the strike, stance strong, hands ready to catch it. 

What nobody expected though, was the bright blue bolt being sent at you. It was almost too late by the time you noticed it happening. In a split second, Zuko watched in horror as the lightning blew right past him towards you, your E/C eyes wide with shock. “No!” He screamed, running to jump in front but it was too late. 

The lightning bolt streaked past before it could hit him, coming right for you. 

The world almost seemed to stop for a moment while at the same time, your entire life flashed by in a second. Your parents playing with you as a child, you and Zuko feeding the turtle ducks just over those gates, Azula burning you, moving in with the kind old lady on Ember Island, and finding Zuko again. But then memories that you didn’t yet make began to reel through your mind in a flash. You and Zuko were together, hand in hand, before an altar. Was that a wedding? Things flashed so quickly you couldn’t see the details. Then came one of the two of you in a room with a bald man with an arrow on his head. He could only be Aang but he was too old and beside him sat Zuko with longer hair; he looked at least ten years older. You seemed to be part of a serious conversation with them. Then, finally, one of you with a swaddled baby sleeping in your arms and Zuko beside you. 

Something told you that this was not your time. 

Just before the bolt could hit you, you clenched your eyes shut and looked away, sticking out two fingers directly at the lethal electricity coming right at you. With a crack, it came into contact with your digits and coursed through your arm. You brought your arm down to your stomach, or as close to it as you could manage in the heat of the moment, and just held the power there. You had no idea what you were doing. You’d never redirected lightning in your life. Hell, you’d never even seen it done. But in that series of flashbacks, a memory of Iroh telling you and Zuko a story as children about a time he had to redirect lightning during a raid of a city. Zuko had excitedly begged him to show the two of you how he did it and, while he didn’t actually redirect lightning before your eyes, he showed you both the movement for it. 

In the few seconds you held the lightning within you, you felt powerful and exhilarated. Your hair blew in the storm in and around your body. You had no idea what it was like to feel so strong but you also had never felt so volatile, like the smallest mistake, the slighted breath, could cause a catastrophe. 

Just as Iroh had shown you all those years ago, you brought the fingers of your opposite hand to your stomach and shot out the energy at the ground, tiles shattering where it finally struck. 

“Y/N!” Zuko cried out, running over to your body as it crumbled to the ground. You panted hard, trying to catch yourself on your hands and knees but your elbows buckled when you did and you fell face first onto the stone tiles. “Y/N?! Y/N, are you okay?!” He yelled, trying to roll your body over to cradle it in his lap but before he could, Azula sent another blast right next to her brother, purposefully not hitting him. Zuko flinched, shielding your body with his from the shrapnel. 

She laughed maniacally, body swinging wildly, “Oh, Zuzu! Looks like your precious little girlfriend picked up a few tricks! Color me impressed.” 

Azula assaulted the two of you with another barrage of attacks. Zuko again went to use his body to shield yours but Katara jumped in the way, shooting a powerful stream of water into Azula’s arm to move the lightning. Katara took over the battle for the time being while Zuko held you tight. 

“Y/N?” He asked again, eyes wide with worry, almost tearing up, “Please, say something. I can’t lose you!” Those same desperate words that seemed to have haunted your relationship came back around. 

He held your face, stroking your hair out of the way. Your eyes rolled back in your head as you struggled to open your eyes. “I’m-I’m alright. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” You insisted with a weak laugh before flinching, pushing your arms behind you to push yourself back up. 

“When did you learn to do that?” He asked in shock, helping you sit up. 

A loud yell came from Katara as she sent attack after attack of water at Azula. You finally managed to open your eyes enough to see Katara successfully holding off Azula. “Go, help her. I’m fine.” You told Zuko, flinching as you allowed yourself to be helped to an upright position. He looked at you with hesitation in his eyes. You grabbed his collar and pulled him close to you, “Zuko, I’m serious. There are bigger problems.” 

With a reluctant nod, he stood up and shot fire at her even more intensely than before, now fueled by rage at her dishonorable attack on you. You were aware of what was going on but for a few seconds you felt disconnected from it. You were still shocked that you managed to redirect the lightning, though not perfectly, of course, otherwise you wouldn’t have collapsed. Your body felt like it was buzzing but no longer with power, more so an emptiness where power once was. And beyond that, a dull burning ache ran through your arms and through your stomach, along the path the lightning ran through. 

But, beyond that, you felt relatively okay and, for right now, that had to be enough. With some effort, you managed to push yourself to your feet, strength quickly coming back to your muscles as the temporary that shock rendered them useless for a few minutes faded away. 

When you stood, you saw how destroyed everything was. Buildings burned, stone tiles were blown up all over, leaving holes in the ground, and now there were waves of ice. Azula appeared to be struggling against both Katara and Zuko but she also seemed not to mind, still plastering that insane smile on her face. 

The three of them had made their way under the canopy off to the side of the main open area. Azula was on the roof, stalking Zuko and Katara who stood underneath. Everyone was silent and you could see Katara and Zuko silently devising a plan but little did they know, Azula jumped down, gripping the canopy to launch herself into a flip. Before she could land or fire, though, you shot a stream of flames at her back, knocking her forward and rolling onto her face. 

Her eyes were aflame with rage when she stood up, “It’s about time you learned your place, little servant girl. I spared your life several times but you won’t get that kindness again.” 

“I’m not afraid of you anymore, Azula.” You moved to take a strong stance, arms out and ready to deflect any attack she sent your way. 

Her amber eyes narrowed beneath her dark jagged hair, “You should be.” With a loud scream, she sent another strike of lightning at you, sure that you couldn’t handle another one since you barely managed to survive the first. 

But how wrong she was. 

Already predicting an attack of some kind, it was easy to change your hand position and you caught the lightning with your fingertips, brought it down through your stomach, and breathed in for a second - a second that seemed to last forever. It was all coursing through your body again: the power, the volatility, the anger, the fear. 

Nobody else could see exactly what was happening. A storm of blue currents blew your hair around your face, covering it from view, and the lightning itself distorted the view of what was happening. Zuko and Katara watched in terror, worried that maybe you weren’t able to catch it and it hit you. 

Little did they all know, you had caught it and avoided your heart successfully and now, all there was to do was redirect it. Taking a deep breath, you honed all of your attention on the lightning in your control, forcing as much energy into it as you could, before shooting your fingertips directly at Azula, the lightning coming at her with more force than she’d shot at you. 

She tried to move to dodge it but before she could, Katara sent a slick of ice onto the ground just below her feet, sending her slipping instead of jumping like she’d intended. The lightning struck the princess with a loud crack and she fell onto the ground, lying on the cold white ice she’d slipped on. 

This time, you felt… alright. You didn’t hurt anywhere or collapse. Instead, you ran towards Zuko and Katara who knelt over Azula’s motionless body. “Is she… D-did I kill her?” You asked, honestly unsure what exactly you wanted the answer to be. For years, you’d told yourself that you’d kill her one day if you ever got the chance but now that took that chance, you weren’t sure if you wanted somebody’s life on your conscience, even if it really might have been for the betterment of the world that she was gone. 

Zuko reached down to feel for a pulse and shook his head, “No, she’s alive, but just barely.” 

Another wave of confliction coursed through you but, surprisingly, a big portion of it was relief. “What should we do with her then?” You knelt down beside Katara and finally inspected Azula. She was barely conscious, her eyes kept rolling back in her head, but that maniacal smile was finally blasted off her face. Her hair was a mess, just barely held back in the tie anymore. A large portion of her pants were missing, burned away just at the thigh to reveal a massive welting red branch-like wound on her pale skin. That must have been why she was able to survive the hit. 

“She needs help,” Zuko sighed, almost sounding like he was at war with himself in this decision, “Something’s telling me this is more than her just being a terrible person. She’ll be moved to the asylum offshore to get the help she needs. And to keep her from hurting anyone else.” His voice got tense at those last words. 

Katara moved water from the ground and used it to heal Azula’s leg as much as she could. “Just for now, I was thinking we could keep her in ice? I don’t know what else to do.” She rubbed her legs awkwardly. 

Glancing to your right, you saw chains hanging on a pillar and moved to grab them. “Here,” You said, beginning to chain her hands and feet together, her limp limbs moving easily, “Just so when we melt the ice, we still have some leverage.” 

“Good idea.” Zuko stood up, watching as you looped the last bit of chain securely in a knot. When it was all good and secure, Zuko gave Katara a small nod and she gracefully created an encasing of ice around Azula. 

This whole situation felt strange. The accumulation of a hundred years of war was climaxing right at this moment and you, Zuko, and Katara had all just successfully completed your part of that victory. What felt odd though was standing over Azula, the girl who had tortured you for years, and discussing her fate, which literally was in your hands. 

“We did it.” Zuko finally sighed out, breaking the silence, “We actually did it.” 

“Now we just have to hope Aang beats Ozai.” Katara rubbed her arms, nervous that the ultimate outcome of all of this wasn’t entirely in just your hands. 

** 

* Two days later *

Zuko stood in the hallway of the palace, the walls open and overlooking the surrounding city. He leaned against the half-wall, breathing in the fresh air deeply. His clothes that he’d been wearing for much longer than he’d like to admit while on exile had now been exchanged for the robes of a Firelord. “You clean up nice.” You giggled, coming into the wide hallway. 

He turned around to see you walking towards him looking more radiant than ever. Your clothes that you had been wearing when you battled Azula had been quite badly destroyed, ripped and stained with soot and debris. Now, you wore a long dark deep red tunic dress that tied with a slightly lighter band around your waist. It had gold along the inner seams and leading up to the high, traditional collar that was around your neck. The bottom had an ornate design sewn in with amber threads at the bottom. 

“Wow…” Zuko breathed out, “Y-You too.” He managed to stammer. 

Heat rose in your face, “Thank you.” You finished closing the gap between the two of you, coming wrap your arms around his waist, “Are you okay?” 

Zuko bit his lip before half-nodding, half-shaking his head, “I just can’t believe this is happening. Ever since I was little, I was sure my father would find a way to pass along the throne to Azula. I never thought I’d actually be Firelord. But now that I’m about to become Firelord, I guess I’m just scared of making mistakes.” 

Your hand came up to his bicep as you pulled him in closer, “Hey, you are going to be the best Firelord in at least a hundred years. You just managed to end a century-long war and I know you have amazing dreams for rebuilding the world.” 

“I didn’t end the war alone.” He tried to refute but you just smiled warmly. 

“And you won’t have to do all the work to rebuild the nation alone either. We are all here to help you - me, Aang, Sokka, Katara, and Toph.” You reached up to touch his cheek gently and he leaned into your soft palm, savoring the touch. It was the first time he’d ever allowed anyone to touch his scar but with you, he felt safe and secure. 

Zuko’s eyes slid closed for just a moment and he brought his hand up to cover yours, holding your hand against his face before pulling it away, intertwining his fingers with yours, “Have I ever told you how much I love you? How much I’ve always loved you?” 

A sweet chuckle left your lips like music, “I think you’ve mentioned it a few times. Have I ever told you how much I love you? And how amazing you are? How amazing you will be?” 

The two of you stood like that for a while, just holding each other and staring at each other, beyond grateful that the universe allowed you to find each other again. Words could not express the pride and love you felt for this man, despite all of his flaws and mistakes. Zuko only wished he could put into words how grateful he was for your love and support, how much he loved you and wanted to protect you (not that you needed it). 

“Nephew, it is time for your coronation.” Iroh chimed in gently, peeking at the two of you from around the corner. 

You looked back and gave him an acknowledging smile. “Thank you, Uncle.” Zuko smiled politely at Iroh, who was waiting at the door to escort you to the front of the crowd.

You knew you had to watch the coronation from the ground with the rest of the Gaang but you didn’t mind. You only hoped that Zuko could feel the support from you and the rest of the group radiating from the crowd. 

“You are going to be amazing, Firelord.” You touched his face one last time, pulling him down for a gentle kiss. 

He smiled against your lips. “I can’t wait to build the new world with you.” 

__________________________

Taglist: 

(Sorry if this is messed up, I suck at taglists) 

@oddlypointlessescapes

@eridanuswave

@egm09

[amiramorozova]

Dual Summoner x The Darkling pt. 38

Pairing: Dual Summoner Amira Silina x General Kirigan/Aleksander Morozova

Word cout: 2910

Glossary: Sol Koroleva - Sun Queen,lapushka - darling, honey, sweetie

I hated his plan but he knew he couldn't force me to agree to it and Prince Nikolai was the least of my concerns. "Alina's power is dormant, she's refused it or forced it to remain locked away." I said as I got up knowing what it was like to hide the sun. "I can help her through it, my power flickered a bit for a while holding it back the way I did for ten years." 

Aleksander knew what it was like to hide, he hid his identity the entire time. "I hate this, I hate lying to everyone. Marie and Nadia know something is up but they never ask. I can't call you by your name in front of people, I have to choose my words carefully." I said knowing people looked at him as General Kirigan "And then what happens when you decide it's not enough to be General Kirigan and decide to change your identity. I refuse to have a tailor modify my appearance." 

Aleksander walked over hugging me close as I sighed knowing that everything was going on too fast. "I don't want to be Queen, I just want to be me. I don't want to marry some prince and have him kissing me in the way you do. There are certain expectations on a wedding night and it disgusts me to even consider it." I said as I was always clear about how I felt like his arms around me never faltered. "even if it's getting us closer to the goal?" Aleksander asked

"Your goal, not mine. I want to walk down a street and be able to feel normal for a little while. I want to take my cousin out and show him it's ok to be different." I said as I was still holding on to the freedom offer he'd offered me. "Marrying the prince doesn't get me what I want, it gets me put in the Grand palace where expectations would be expected of me." I said, he knew I'd felt trapped within the little palace all this time for ten years because my parents had dropped me off here to train with Baghra as I yawned a bit. "Well, my Sol Koroleva is tired, the prince must have had you riding a lot." Aleksander said as I knew I hadn't told him. "A town I was in noticed my engagement ring, they wished the saints to bless us in our union." I said 

Aleksander for the first time seemed surprised then pondered those words as I walked over to the bed too tired to change as I laid down on his bed. Aleksander walked over removing his Kefta and the general attire he had underneath as he laid down with just his pants on pulling me close making me blush. "You sleep in here, you should get used to such things. Besides tomorrow you are to assist Ms. Starkov." Aleksander said as I nodded before closing my eyes falling asleep. 

Morning came earlier than I would have liked as I turned over facing Aleksander and curled up in his arms. I could feel his stare knowing he was awake as the door opened. "Ivan, set the plates on the table." Aleksander said as footsteps were easy to be heard. "It is on the table Moi soverenyi, will Moya soverenyi be joining the summoners later?" Ivan asked as Aleksander adjusted me while I could hear them in my sleep so I knew they were talking about me. "She will be, she is going to be helping Ms. Starkov learn to accept her powers." Aleksander said, "I have no need for Ms. Starkov's powers when Amira holds the Stag's necklace within her." 

I opened my eyes, happy to know that I wasn't just his soulmate, he was trying to get married to him right away as Ivan nodded and left. Aleksander got up once he noticed I was awake as I sat up. "Morning lapushka, did you sleep well?" Aleksander asked as I nodded. Once we both got up I walked over to take a better look at his maps. "So which amplifier are you seeking now?" I asked, wondering what he was up to. "The Sea whipp's fetter, but that won't be anytime soon. We'd have to cross the fold again, get on the ship and head to the true sea." Aleksander said 

Well, I knew he was right as we both started to eat knowing there was no way I was going to cross the fold so soon. We ate in silence as I knew he held the power over the Grisha in the 2nd army but I had the power for holding what Adrian did as a Dual Summoner. We also were under a mutual agreement that we knew neither of us could manipulate the other as we finished. "I need to go, I should get ready." I said 

Going to my room I prepared for things like getting a bath and having Genya help me. Alina wouldn't make it in front of the royals if we didn't help her soon. Once Genya was done with me we headed to Alina's room seeing her surprised. "Come on, we don't have all day." I said as Genya snapped her fingers and people took her to the tub to wait.

"Is this really necessary?" Alina asked as she was cleaned and I sat there watching once she was done. "It is, you are a sun summoner, we're very rare sort of but you being unique you still have to meet the King and Queen." I said as she looked at me in the mirror. "I'm to meet the King?" Alina asked as I nodded. "Amira is a little more rare than you, Dual Summoner who is Tidemaker and Sun Summoner. She's the only one of her kind, we've found another Dual Summoner but he is Tidemaker and Inferni." Genya said 

Alina seemed surprised and I couldn't blame her as she looked at both of us "When did you both know that you were Grisha?" Alina asked as Genya was working on her. "I've been working on myself since I was three, testers found me at the age of eleven." Genya told her. Alina seemed shocked "Since you were three?" Alina asked, then looked at me in the mirror "And you?" Alina asked, "My parents had me start training at three, I showed the tidemaker at first and my mother was excited since she was a tidemaker. Not long after I used Sun Summoner power and fainted not long after it took years to build up where I could use the power consecutively but here I am." I said 

Alina seemed surprised we were more advanced in our small science than she was as I looked at my wrist with a smile. "Your wrist, you said you were General Kirigan's soulmate. How do you figure that out?" Alina asked as I looked up "Power, once you accept your power the initials will show up but only if you are within distance of your soulmate. The mark does fade if you go too far." I said 

Alina didn't seem to understand as Genya fixed her up before leading ahead as I walked with her. "You've been denying your gift which makes you look terrible. It helps you to be strong when you accept it, your soulmate could be human or could be Grisha but your power determines how long you live." I told her as we walked. "The King will want a demonstration of your power since you are from the first army. He will then probably want you to assist me in destroying the fold." I said as Alina noticed my Kefta. "You're wearing a black Kefta." Alina said

"Amira has been given a few black items over the last year, she wears the General's color in pride." Genya said as we kept walking. "This really isn't necessary, can't I just wear a Kefta?" Alina asked as we kept walking. "You were found in the first army, unlike Amira who was already a part of the 2nd army." Genya said as we kept walking "Has anyone escaped the little palace before?" Alina asked as I laughed "No." I said as we heard "Planning to make a run for it?" Aleksander asked as I smiled at him. "I didn't mean any disrespect." Alina said 

We walked to the little palace as Aleksander walked with us, he walked beside me since I was encouraging Alina it would be ok. "The King is not well so this will be fast."I said as we walked in. Aleksander switched spots with me knowing his amplifier abilities would be needed for Alina's demonstration as we walked into the grand palace. Once we were there Aleksander and I showed our respect to them "so this is the girl who will help your dual summoner destroy the fold?" The King asked, "Yes, she is Alina Starkov Sun Summoner. Moi Tsar." Aleksander said 

Aleksander moved his hand to bring shadows as there was less pressure for Alina with me around as I watched him stand in front of her and take her wrist as the light exploded around all of us. I was already on Aleksander's side to not destroy the fold but the King did not know of that as Aleksander let her wrist go as the King was standing like he had when he met me. "Two sun summoners, the fold could be destroyed sooner. How long does she need?" The King asked, "She will remain at the little palace to train with me and Amira undisturbed." Aleksander said as the King looked at me then at Alina then back at Aleksander "then do it quickly."  The King said 

I have ten years of training and Alina only just started. Baghra will have a tough training time with her. I thought 

"Agreed, Moi Tsar." Aleksander with a bow and we followed his lead showing respect as he turned to both of us. "You did well, you'll be staying around Amira today to learn about the way she does things and she'll take you around the area." Aleksander said to Alina as I noticed Prince Nikolai walk in the room but looked back at Aleksander while he was talking.  Other Grisha started to come over hugging Alina as I backed up and motioned for Genya to get her as Aleksander followed me out of that sight. We snuck around the corner in a dark area as we kissed each other. "I think you can mentor her, be a role model and earn your leadership role." Aleksander said and I looked at him "I am leading already, with my cousin." I reminded him

Aleksander let me go as I walked out waiting around the corner when Genya came around with Alina. "Thank you Genya, I'll take it from here." I said as I led Alina away from there as I showed her around the area that was open to us. "You seem so much more confident than I am." Alina said as I looked at her "I'll let you in on a secret but you can't tell anyone. I come from a sun summoner bloodline and my mother is Tidemaker. My grandfather is Inferni and my half brother somewhere around here is squaller." I told her as she looked surprised.

We came to the library as memories were flooding in and the priest was gone, somewhere I wasn't sure about. I walked over as we looked through the books and I pulled one out. "the amplifiers?" Alina asked as she looked at them and pointed to the stag "I've seen this one, but not recently." Alina said as I sighed a bit. "That's because the stag is dead." I said as Alina looked at me surprised, "My tracker friend found it and I was supposed to kill it to stop something but I couldn't do it." I said 

Alina looked at the images in the book "If you couldn't do it then who has the stag's amplifier?" Alina asked as I smiled "I do, I've already absorbed it into my body when it was placed around me. But something rare happened that I'll tell you about later when you're ready to hear." I told her as we went to her room and she was given time to change into her blue kefta.  

We walked around for a bit when Marie and Nadia found us and hugged me before they smiled at Alina. "You're Alina, I'm Marie and this is Nadia. We're going to help you around with Amira." Marie said as they led the way and we all walked outside. I figured Botkin was ready for the new girl.

"Sun Summoner Alina, all of Ravkas' foes want you dead before you can help destroy the fold." Botkin said, "Very warm greeting." Alina said as I whispered to her "They want to kill me too but I actually have fought a Fjerdan." I said, surprising her. As we looked at Botkin who wasn't looking at me "You must learn to defend yourself fast, then one day you can be up with Amira who led her Grisha family in battle against a group of Fjerdans." Botkin said, "Do you know how to fight?" 

Alina looked like she was having a flashback as she nodded, "I've had some training." Alina said and before Botkin said what I knew he would, I smiled. "Pick an opponent, Alina, to see if you can win." I said as she chose Zoya. We all watched as the two started to fight. I knew Zoya was good but still we watched. 

I wonder if she'll get kicked off the grounds again. I thought 

Watching both of them going back and forth with Zoya mostly winning I knew Alina could do it as she got the last hit. Sadly Zoya as usual used her wind so I walked over before Botkin had gotten to her. "That was uncalled for Zoya." I said as she had her fists up "I'll take you on Amira, you who has the general's attention." Zoya said 

Motioning over to Marie and Nadia to check on Alina I prepared myself as we started to walk in a circle as I had my hands up.  I was ready as she took a left swing at me and I dodged as I hit her right in her shoulder and she was shocked but when she went to give me a hit with her right hand I dodged and slid my foot behind hers as she did with Alina sliding it forward to knock her down. 

"we take it easy on those who are new, don't forget that." I said as I walked away. I kept my senses about me as I heard her move fast and I used light to split her wind surrounding myself as everyone gasped at how much brighter my light was as I looked back at Zoya. "I have an amplifier, same as most of you but unlike you I don't rely on it and it doesn't come off." I said as she looked shocked.

Walking over to Alina I helped her a bit as we headed away from Botkin and the group headed to Baghra's hut. I knocked on the door as I led Alina in and noticed it was dark. "Baghra." I said as Alina looked worried but we kept walking in when She walked over to us. "Amira, glad you can always make time to visit." Baghra said to me and looked at Alina "And you, A sun summoner who wastes her time training with Botkin. Where is the rest of you?" Baghra asked

I found that a strange question "What do you mean where is the rest of her?" I asked as Baghra looked at me. "I can tell her power is almost non-existent." Baghra said as she led Alina over and told me I could stay. "Where are your parents?" Baghra asked, "Dead I suppose." Alina said 

I felt bad for her knowing I had both of my parents, even my grandparents as she nodded. I sat there waiting while Baghra went over Alina's first lesson and I noticed she was merely questioning her. "Amira was struggling once where you are but she's had ten years to master her power but you seem to need to be told what to do or what to believe. So Come back when you believe it too.

Baghra is harsh, then again she didn't let me get past her with anything either. Yet we have a better relationship than the other summoners. I thought 

"Amira, let me see your light now that you have the stag bones." Baghra said as I wasn't sure about it but I put my hands together then showed my light as I expanded it around the room. "Wow, this is a sun summoner's power." Alina said and Baghra nodded. "Amira has been prepared for her role all her life, she decides her own fate. she's also aware that her life choices are her own even with my words of guidance." Baghra said as Alina just looked surprised and then looked at me. "Guidance from my future mother-in-law. I assure you that the life we all live is determined by our power." I said as Alina tried but was failing, something held her back.

What holds you back? I thought

Taglist: @lifeisingrey, @anonymous-storyteller-deactivat

[a-wanderin-whirlybird]

Flight if Destiny: Prologue

(An Ever After High fic, set in an au where the evil queen decides to be a good mom. Cowritten with @offwiththeirbuds )

It was over. Finally. Robin Queen leaned against the back alley wall. Her enemy, Snow White had decided to try and do more than banish her after awakening. She tried to have Robin arrested and tossed in prison. Thankfully Robin hadn't done anything outside the realm of their story, so there was no way to arrest her. But Robin was furious. 

How dare she? Robin only did what was expected and for what? An empty, temporary marriage and a lonely future. 

She could get revenge. Get power and fame on her own and a kingdom to show up that brat Snow White!

Robin sneered, that could work! She could strike Wonderland first, it was disconnected enough from the rest of the world, no one would notice until it was too late. Or maybe she could-

Robin heaved, emptying her stomach contents on the concrete. She had gotten too excited. 

"Crap. Crap. What am I thinking?" Robin hissed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand while the other gently held her baby bump.

It was a small bump, barely showing, but it was a grounding reminder for Robin. It was so easy to lose herself to the role of Evil Queen and far safer than facing the future after her story. She felt so alone without the story now. All of her friends were just starting their stories while Robin had to start hers immediately out of High school. She was only 27. 

Narrators beyond, she was 27 and expecting! And she had considered world domination? What was she thinking??? 

She hadn't been. In that moment Robin had been scared and alone so she turned to the safety of her role. But… what safety was there in evil? Embracing it would mean she could be truly imprisoned. 

"Funny, how you reminded me I wasn't alone, and you don't even have a heart beat yet." Robin muttered to her belly. She had to be better. Better than Snow who wanted her dead or tortured, better than her mother who left her alone too young. Too focused on the Evil part of the Evil Queen. 

Robin vowed to be better. A Better Mother and Better Person. Robin stamped her foot, eyes narrowing with determination. 

"For you my Baby bird. For you I will face the world. I will be the best Mother for you…" Robin said pulling out a small slip of paper and racing to a nearby pay phone. 

The small paper had a short list of numbers. Friends from school. The top of the list was Nana Breadhouse, she may be the Gingerbread House Witch, and specialized in candy houses, but Nana also had some connections. 

The phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Nana. Its… its Robin."

"Robin?! Are you ok? I heard Snow's speech. Did she?!"

"She tried to arrest me but it didn't work. Nana I need a house Im… Nana I have a kid on the way. I wanted to- I…" Robin felt tears fall. "I almost became my Mom…"

"Oh SweetPlum. Where are you? Ill come get you. We can talk after." Nana said. Robin couldn't help but smile, Nana was the kindest woman.

"I'm in Bookend outside the Library. Ill wait here." Robin said. Her hand never left her little bump, she had to fight the urge to conquer and the little lump was helping.

"I'll be there faster than you can say Taffy, hang on love." Then Robin waited. 

It only took ten minutes for Nana to arrive, her Bubblegum punk hair made her easy to see in the rainy gloom. Nana's Broomstick landed and the plump woman raced over embracing the soaked Robin tightly. Robin held her friend dearly. 

"Oh Honey Tea, come on. Let's get you home and dry. You can tell me what your plan is after we got some food in you." 

"You're the Fairest Nana." Robin hiccuped. Her tears hadn't stopped the entire time. 

"Tell me that after you're dry and warm. Come on." Nana said, pulling Robin onto her broom. Robin leaned into Nana's back as they flew a comfortable silence filling the night air as they escaped the rain clouds and finally reached Nana's home. 

Nana silently ushered Robin inside. Trapper the huntsman was seated by the fire, rocking Nana's 1 year old Ginger. The gruff man looked concerned as Robin was sat down by the fire. 

Trapper gently placed the sleeping Ginger back in her crib and began to sign as Nana raced around. 

"Are you ok? You look awful." He signed, Robin nodded weakly, shivering in her soaked clothes. 

"Im… shaken. But ok, thank you Trap." Robin said, Trapper gave a soft smile and nodded. Only to sign some rather vicious things about their classmate Snow White. Robin shook her head. "Trap its… im not fighting back. I cant. I have a child on the way. I- I refuse to be my mother. Or worse."

"You don't have to do anything. But I could get Arthur and-" Trapper started signing only for Nana to bustle between the two and give Trapper a glare. 

"No. You are not storming the castle Trapper. If you try You get no Daughter time for a month!" Nana scolded in a whisper. Trapper shook his head but signed in agreement. 

"You both adore Ginger so much. I hope I'm as good to my baby Bird…" Robin muttered. Nana Gently pat Robin's hand. 

"You will be darling. Trapper and I have our system. I'm not denying him his ability to be in his daughter's life. And you did the right thing walking away today." Nana said. "Now I have some clothes you can use, tomorrow we can get your stuff back- Robin? Sweet Plum whats-?"

"She burned my stuff." Robin muttered, tears falling anew as she hugged herself tightly. "Snow… She. She did more than try and arrest me. She destroyed all my things. I just did my part! I just did what they expected of me…"

Nana's eyes lit aflame, fury rolling off her like an oven. 

"That, that, That witch! Disgusting. I knew Snow was Twisted but this? And she calls herself a Royal." Nana turned back to Robin, eyes softening. "We will get you new clothes and goods tomorrow. I have an extra plot of land nearby you can live on. We can design it tomorrow as well."

"Doctors appointments." Trapper signed. "We can come with you too." 

"You guys are too good to me. How can I repay you?" Robin asked sniffling.

"How about you babysit some days for us? We can always use an extra hand with Ginger and it will be good practice." Nana offered. 

"Deal."

The next day was strange. Replacing her missing clothes had been easy. Robin knew she needed maternity clothes and she wanted to move away from her old doom and gloom vibe. She wanted to be comfortable and to distance herself from the role of the Evil Queen. 

Then she saw someone she never expected to see. 

"Robin?" 

"Arthur?!" Robin had turned to see her best friend. "Look at you! Your beard came in!"

Arthur laughed, rubbing his blonde hair.

"Yeah and I finally lost the tit scars too. What are you doing this close to Camalot?" He asked. The two walked down the various aisles grabbing what they needed. 

"Oh well. I finished my story and I wanted a fresh start for me and the Baby Bird." Robin explained, Arthur sputtered.

"You're a Mom?!"

"Not yet. I'm expecting. I'm only about a month along." Robin explained giggling as Arthur started blushing. He loved kids, but never really did well with the idea of pregnancy.

"Oh wow! Uh well congrats!" Arthur said. "Uhm… you live nearby? If you do I'm sure Merlin and Giles wouldn't mind if you dropped by. Giles was really worried when news broke that your story started so early."

"That's sweet. I would love to visit. How are your Boys doing?" Robin asked. 

"Oh well… they are doing well. Milkshake is still a jackass to Giles about our relationship. But well… I'm going to propose soon. " Robin gasped.

"Really?! Oh Arty that's wonderful!" 

"Actually I was going to see if Nana knew where you were. I need your help to make it memorable." Arthur said, Robin smiled.

"Of course! You're my Best Friend Forever After. What were you thinking?" Robin asked. Arthur smiled and the two discussed proposal plans.

The next few months were a flurry of building, Reconnecting with friends and doctors. Robin had no time to stop and consider the ever disapearing urge to conquer the world. Instead it was replaced with eagerness to meet her future daughter. 

Robin got to visit Arthur, Merlin and Giles again. Her life was filling up with friends again and she felt lighter than ever. 

Then the sonogram appointment. As she had set it up her doctor had warned her, they would not allow anyone other than the father in with her. Robin was terrified. 

"Birdy whatchya doing so down?" Merlin practically chirped as he picked her up to go for the Sonogram. Robin sighed sitting beside the mage and watching the countryside roll away. 

"My doc warned me they won't let anyone but the father in with me…" Robin muttered. Merlin clicked their tongue 

"Ain't old Good King in a Nursery Home, senile out of his mind? And-" Merlin paused. The Mage was an empath and didn't need any other powers to know why Robin sank into depression when the old king was mentioned. Merlin nodded silently. 

"Fine. I'm the Dad now." Robin jolted up, turning to Merlin.

"What?! Do you honestly think they'll believe that?" Robin asked. Merlin smirked, tossing his scarf to the side. 

"They don't have too. They aren't getting rid of me. Though I'm calling back up." Merlin cooed, casting a minor sending spell before Robin could stop him. 

"Who'd you call?" Robin asked.

"The rest of the fathers!" Merlin said happily. He didn't say anymore until they arrived at the office and the two enter the waiting room. Robin was stressed, clutching her bulging stomach as Merlin went to check her in. She stood near the door, when-

"They let any old rabble in here don't they?" Robin tensed as the sniveling tones of Snow white met her ears. Robin turned. The new Queen was with her Prince, Fabian Charming and obviously expecting as well. 

"Snow." Robin hissed. 

"Queen. What are you doing here? I told them, not to accept your ilk." Snow sneered. "Or did you break in? I can arrest you for trespassing. Better yet I should have the guards toss you out. Maybe you'll get the mess- AIYYYYYYYYYY!"

Snow shrieked as her dress suddenly burst into Merlin's iconic Pink flames. Merlin sauntered up and slung an arm around Robin. She didn't realize she had been hyperventilating until then. 

Fabian put out his wife and glared at the smirking Merlin. 

"Oops, sorry I still miss fire when I get stressed ya know? And our girl is expecting our little bird, of course Im stressed." Merlin purred.

"Our?" Fabian muttered.

"Yes. Ours. Move Fabian." The Charming swung around to find Giles, Arthur and Trapper in the doorway. Arthur looked slightly mortified and Trapper looked ready for a fight. But it made Robin feel safer. 

"What is the meaning of this?" Snow hissed, shaking off the ashes of the fire. "I know none of you are the father!"

"No we all are. Because we were asked to be." Giles said calmly as Arthur pushed over to Robin and held her close. 

"No you weren't. Merlin decided." Robin muttered to Arthur who snorted. 

"You didn't say no." Arthur retaliated earning a laugh from Robin as Snow tsked.

"What ever. Just Leave, I have an appointment here!" 

"So do we." Merlin said as a nurse came up, nervously fiddling with her clipboard.

"Uhm, Ms. Queen? We are ready for you and uh… your child's fathers?" She seemed to ask if the four men were with her despite knowing the anwser. Snow went slack Jared as Robin left, surrounded by her friends. 

The panic the run in caused vanished when she saw her daughter the first time. She cried so hard, her baby Bird was healthy and growing. And Robin forgot all about Snow White.

Then her new home had been built not 2 miles from Nana's own home. Robin could easily visit and watch Ginger, who was growing so fast. 

Robin helped Arthur propose to his boyfriends. Merlin may have been a powerful mage. But Robin was the trickiest witch alive. She was able to make the moment Magical without Merlin catching on. 

And of course they said yes. The three looked radiant at their wedding. Merlin opting for a ballgown as he preferred and Giles and Arthur for a suit and armor respectively. And Robin was Arthur's Best Witch. 

Then suddenly Robin was giving birth, post ceremony. Nine months had gone by so fast. And before she knew it, Robin was holding her daughter in her Best Witch suit. She was so small and pale with a little silky tuft of black and Purple hair.

Raven Queen entered the world in Summer. Greeted by her mother and her friends. 

[reallifesultanas]

Portrait of Rüstem Pasha/Rüsztem Pasa portréja

Rüstem Pasha is one of the most controversial figures in Ottoman history, a model of fidelity and deceit at the same time, as his loyalty to his wife and mother-in-law is legendary, yet he is considered the greatest responsible in the death of Prince Mustafa. But what is the truth? Was Rüstem a loyal statesman, rare as the white raven or the greatest traitor and killer of the empire?

Origin and upbringing

Rüstem, according to his own account, was of Croatian descent, born as the son of a swineherd between 1500 and 1505. At least one of his brothers is known, Sinan, with whom they came to Istanbul through the devşirme system. His brother also became an influential pasha over time. He studied in the Enderum along with other intelligent boys who were considered suitable for education. Those who did not have the intelligence to get to Enderum were assigned to the Janissaries or other militaries. Rüstem was a particularly intelligent and talented man, he excelled among the other students of Endrum with his knowledge. He was fluent in at least three languages ​​and also had special talents in close fight and military warfare. He was also a particularly sober, calm man who never acted recklessly.

The beginning of his rise

Opinions are divided on how Rüstem drew the Sultan's attention to himself. According to some sources, during the battle of Mohács in 1526 he acted as the sultan's weapon bearer and Suleiman noticed his loyalty and intelligence here. Others say once, Rustem, through a window, saw Suleiman passing under the window and he saw how the Sultan drop something accidentally. Rüstem throwing himself out the window to return the object to the Sultan. If the latter is true, then Rüstem arrived in Ottoman history with a hard entry.

Either way, around the mid-1520s, Suleiman had certainly recognized Rüstem’s talents and appointed him one of his personal men. He became the chief supervisor of the sultan's stables and the stirrup holder when the ruler got on the horse. With this position, Rüstem could actually go anywhere with the Sultan, during which, of course, the Sultan had time to get to know him more and more. Around this time he could also spend time with the sons of Suleiman, as his sons often rode out with the sultan or accompanied him on a campaigns. So he was already in relatively close contact with the sultan's sons here, especially with Prince Mehmed, who spent a lot of time with Suleiman, and his younger brother, Selim. But it is also possible that he also had the opportunity to see or even meet his later wife, Suleiman’s daughter, Mihrimah, as according to some sources, she also rode out with his father occasionally.

The rise of Rüstem, scared several others. Suleiman's confidant, Ibrahim, for example, according to a 1534 report, said he did not particularly like Rüstem. And the reason for this was that the sultan had repeatedly accepted Rüstem's advices and raised the man higher and higher, and Ibrahim was afraid for his own position and perhaps he was jealous that someone else was near the sultan besides him. Ibrahim made a special effort to get rid of Rüstem. It was Ibrahim, who made him the beylerbey of Diyarbakir. With this, he exiled Rüstem to the Iranian border, hoping he will be forgotten there. However, Rüstem did not think so and did an excellent job in Diyarbakir, forging an advantage from his exile.

Suleiman, after Rüstem proved his abilites in Diyarbakir, made the man the beylerbey of Anatolia in 1538, and then in 1539 finally elevated him to the rank of vizier, and also gave him one of the greatest positions a pasha could ever attain, making him Damad (son-in-law). Suleiman gave his daughter Mihrimah to him.

His marriage to Mihrimah Sultan

The marriage of an imperial princess has always been a serious political decision. In Mihrimah's case, Suleiman had probably long ago decided that Rüstem should be her husband. In vain did Hürrem Sultan want another husband, Suleiman immediately rejected Hürrem's proposal, the young and handsome Egyptian beylerbey as a husband candidate. Why did Suleiman choose Rüstem? He definitely wanted a husband to her daughter who was loyal to her and to the Empire, thus avoiding having to be replaced, executed, and thus orphaning her own grandchildren. In addition, he wanted a husband who was fit to hold high positions so that he could stay in Istanbul with her daughter, since Suleiman, who was famously devoted to her daughter, surely did not want her daughter to live away from him. So Rüstem proved to be a perfect choice.

Suleiman's strong determination to Rüstem, is also shown by the fact that despite the gossip spread by Rüstem's enemies that he had leprosy, Suleiman did not changed his mind, but sent his personal doctor to examine Rüstem. The doctor, while examining Rüstem, found a louse on him, which ruled out that he had leprosy. Knowing the particularly demanding nature of Rüstem and knowing the fact that he changed his clothes daily, it cannot be ruled out that the lice were put on him as an intrigue of his own. All the obstacles were removed from the healty Rüstem.

Mihrimah was 17 at that time, and Rüstem was described to be twice as old as the sultana, so he was about 34 years old. Suddenly it seems like a big age difference, but compared to the age difference of the other sultanas and their husbands, Mihrimah was quite lucky. True, Rüstem was probably not the kind of man, teenage girls dreamed of, as he was described as a short and red-faced man, yet he guaranteed that Mihrimah could stay with her family in Istanbul forever and could gain serious political influence with him. In addition, Rüstem knew Mihrimah's brothers well, so it was clear that he will be on Mihrimah's and her brother's side in the fight for the throne.

The wedding was finally held in the fall of 1539, along with the circumcision ceremony of Mihrimah's two younger brothers, Bayezid and Cihangir. The ceremony eventually lasted for 15 days, and whole of Istanbul was celebrating with the family.

His marriage to Mihrimah was clearly not a love match, but all indications are that over time they have learned to respect and accept each other. Their marriage was crowned in 1541 by the birth of their daughter, Ayşe Hümaşah. Unfortunately, there is not much evidence of Rüstem’s relationship with his daughter, but based on second-hand evidences they were close to each other. Over time, Mihrimah and Rüstem had a son, Osman, who unfortunately died young. The time of the boy's death is unknown.

Political rise

In 1541 Rüstem was the second vizier, so he advanced nicely. In this position, the sultan made him the head of the Hungarian campaign of the year. This was a very important appointment in Rüstem’s career. The Kingdom of Hungary lost its king János Szapolyai the previous year, whose successor was only a two-week-old boy. As a result of the unexpected event, Habsburg Ferdinand immediately launched an attack to gain even more shares from the Kingdom of Hungary. Therefore, the Ottomans could not wait so they launched an attacked. Eventually in the end they won and were able to tore Hungary into three parts for more than a century. Transylvania and Eastern-Tiszta area remained in Izabella and her infant son, János Zsigmond's hands for 10,000 HUF rax for a year. The Highlands, Croatia, Western Transdanubia, Slavonia remained in the hands of the Habsburgs, while areas between the Danube and Tisza river were under the control of the Sultan. Rüstem played a major role in the fact that Transylvania and the area of Eastern-Tiszta was able to stay in the hands of Izabella and his infant son. The sultan had planned it differently. Suleiman wanted to annex all of Transylvania and the Eastern-Tisza area to the Empire, and wanted to take Izabella and her son to Ottoman captivity in Istanbul. However, Izabella sent pleading letters to Hürrem Sultana and the Mihrimah Sultana and also sent gifts and ambassadors to Rüstem. Rüstem, enjoying the support of Mihrimah and Hürrem, finally succeeded in convincing the sultan to leave Isabella and his son as ruler of Transylvania and Eastern-Tiszta area. This was a huge step and a success, as Suleiman had reacted very aggressively for Isabella's previous plea. Isabella a few months ago asked for the release of two Hungarian lords who were captives of the Sultan. Suleiman refused the request and immediately executed the two lords. With such a background, it is particularly interesting that Rüstem, Mihrimah and Hürrem were able to convince the Sultan. Their intentions are unknown. Mihrimah and Hürrem perhaps stood by the woman because they felt sorry for her, but Rüstem perhaps had a more rational point of view: the Ottomans most probably wouln't be able to keep Transylvania under their rule, and its loss would have been unpleasant for them, so it was better to make the rulers of it to their vassals.

The former event also shows well that Suleiman respected Rüstem very much, but still he denied from him the grace he had previously given to Ibrahim. He never allowed Rüstem as close to himself as he let Ibrahim anno. Mihrimah and Hürrem objected to this, according to several sources, as they tried to persuade the Sultan to let Rüstem closer to him. However, the sultan always replied that "it was enough for me to commit such foolishness once." This is a good indication of how deeply Suleiman was hurt by Ibrahim’s betrayal and was certainly afraid of having to endure something similar once again.

However, the Sultan's slight distancing did not deter Rüstem from having the same intimate relationship with the ambassadors as Ibrahim had previously done. The ambassadors, without exception, described Rüstem as one who really likes to talk to them about himself. He often boasted, ironically, to what heights the son of a swineherd could ascend in the Ottoman Empire. In addition, the ambassadors also noted how intelligent the pasha is, especially enthusiastic about all matters and making decisions in a very forward-looking manner. And the most important thing, which did not escape the attention of the ambassadors, was that Rüstem, unlike Ibrahim, always spoke of himself as a subordinate of the Sultan, was loyal to the Sultan to the extreme and was famously incorruptible.

In 1544 Rüstem finally received the title of Grand Vizier, which Suleiman had given him knowing he was an ally of Hürrem and Mihrimah. As a Grand Vizier, he was always praised by the ambassadors and the Sultan was pleased with him. His most important success as Grand Vizier was that he managed to fill the imperial treasury. He used every possible solution to this, for example, he sold the flowers and vegetables grown in the palace gardens. Because of this, he was considered by many to be greedy, but nonetheless, in the end, he eventually managed to solve the empire’s financial problems, which Ibrahim had only exacerbated before. The other brilliant solution he ran to make money was to blackmail the ambassadors. He wanted them to come with most expensive gifts possible. If a gift wasn’t expensive enough, he simply didn’t receive the ambassadors. Because of this, the ambassadors complained a lot to their rulers and were ashamed to ask for more money and gifts. Each year, he asked more and more from the ambassadors. One of the ambassadors, the clever, Alvise Renier, eliminated this problem, by sending 100 gold ducats in every year to Rüstem before he could ask for more. It may seem greedy, but Rüstem delivered most of these gifts and money - unlike the previous Grand Vizier - to the Imperial Treasury and retained only some of those which were personal gifts. It was the "greed" of Rüstem that kept the financial background of the empire stable for the second half of Suleiman's reign, however, Rüstem was not popular among the people of Istanbul.

The fight of the Rüstem-Hürrem-Mihrimah coalition against Prince Mustafa

Rüstem as Mihrimah’s husband was clearly committed to Mihrimah’s full-brothers. Especially that he knew the princes closely, while he had no connection with Mustafa. In my opinion, that is why it is a mistake to condemn Rüstem for his choice. Which man would support a prince who poses a threat to his wife and brother-in-laws? Plus, Mustafa never liked Rüstem Pasha, so if he wouldn't be against Mustafa, that would cause his death.

How the coalition fought Mustafa is not exactly known, as they left no evidence. Most likely, their basic principle was that all the naturally occurring faults of Mustafa were said to the sultan, while in the case of the sons of Hürrem these mistakes were hide. Thus, in fact, without slander or lies, they were able to weaken Mustafa in the eyes of his father. In addition, Rüstem, as Grand Vizier, became the deputy of the Sultan and could decide on a great many things. Thus, Mustafa also had to ask him for support when in 1549 the Georgians assassinated the governor of Erzurum. Mustafa asked for a supportive army from Rüstem so that he could oust the Georgians beyond the borders of the empire. However, Rüstem ignored and then rejected the request, as it would have been dangerous to send soldiers to the highly supported Prince Mustafa. In addition, the possible success of Mustafa would have further increased his popularity and perhaps Suleiman would have recognized his son’s virtues. However, we must not be sure that all this took place without Suleiman's knowledge. It is very likely that Rüstem informed Suleiman about Mustafa's request. Mustafa's popularity, however, had so far threatened the Sultan's rule, so it was not in Suleiman's interest to send an army to Mustafa. A few years later, a similar Georgian attack took place, with a similar outcome.

Suleiman's health gradually deteriorated, and his gout caused him more and more difficulties from the second half of the 1540s, and he put even more burden on Rüstem's shoulder. He had to organize and lead campaigns instead of the sultan. The people and soldiers did not like the sultan's absence very much and more and more rumors were spread that the empire needed a new, warrior-like, healthy sultan. This problem culminated in 1552. Rüstem led the army, which consisted of 50,000 soldiers, most of whom were Janissaries. Shortly after their departure, he received word that the sultan was very ill, perhaps on his death. Rüstem did not continue the campaign in such circumstances, but camped, for he was afraid to get too far away from the capital. He feared that Mustafa, if he took the news of the events, with the help of the Janissaries, could easily march into the capital and execute the sons of Hürrem after taking the throne. The sultan's health soon began to improve, so that Rüstem could continue the campaign. However, the difficulties were not over here. When the army reached the intersection between Amasya and Konya, the Janissaries decided to pay their respects to their future sultan, Mustafa, in Amasya. Rüstem ordered the Janissaries not to leave the camp and continue their journey, but the Janissaries rebelled and most of them headed for Amasya. Rüstem continued his journey along with the leading agha of the Janissaries and some loyal Janissaries towards Konya. Mustafa, to top of the trouble, welcomed the Janissaries and received their greetings. Rüstem immediately wrote a letter to the Sultan about the events, but Suleiman did not believe that his son had done so and made the Janissaries solely responsible. Returning to Istanbul, Rustem told Suleiman again what had happened, proving with evidence that Mustafa had indeed distributed money and food to the Janissaries. The Sultan told Rüsztem not to talk nonsense. However, Rüstem also continued and recounted the rumors circulating in the camp that Mustafa was planning a revolt against the Sultan with the help of Tahmasp Sah, a Persian ruler. Although Suleiman was still dismissive with Rüstem, he certainly began to suspect his son because he ordered an investigation into the case.

Suleiman the following year, in 1553, to prove his suitability, himself led his troops into battle. In August 1553 they left Istanbul and headed east. However, Suleiman's goal was not primarily the campaign, but the execution of his son, Mustafa, on the pretext of the campaign. Mustafa joined his father's troops at Ereğli and, despite the opposition of his supporters, he went to the sultan's tent, where he was executed. The execution of the prince provoked a huge rebellion in the army, the soldiers demanding a scapegoat. Suleiman, to save himself and his sons who were with him, made Rüstem Pasha responsible and relieved him of his position. That night, Rüstem secretly left the camp, just in time because the angry Janissaries broke into his tent soon after and wanted to kill him. The ambassadors who covered the events raised the possibility that Rüstem himself had asked for his replacement to save his own life and that of the Sultan. This raises the possibility that the Sultan and Rüstem have reached some secret agreement that Rüstem will be replaced, but will return to his position for the first capable time. This possibility is also made probable by the fact that Rüstem, although no longer a Grand Vizier, returned to Istanbul and continued to behave like a Grand Vizier. Despite Kara Ahmed Pasa becoming the new Grand Vizier, Rüstem continued to receive the ambassadors in his palace as if nothing had happened. He also went to the mosque with the same splendor and accompaniment as before, and even clearly told the ambassadors not to worry, he would return to his office soon. And as a faithful follower of the sultan, he would not have dared to do this without the Sultan's knowledge. His wife and mother-in-law either did not know about the secret unity — or wisely pretended not to know about it — constantly bombarded Suleiman with letters and asked him to forgive Rüstem and let him return to his office.

Back to the top

The newly appointed Grand Vizier, Kara Ahmed Pasha, Suleiman's brother-in-law, did not live up to expectations, so in 1555 he was executed by the order of the Sultan. Many also suspect the Rüstem-Hürrem-Mihrimah triumvirate was behind his execution. However, it cannot be ruled out that the Sultan chose the unsuitable Kara Ahmed as Grand Vizier with the purpose, to put Rüstem back in position as soon as possible. Either way, with the death of Kara Ahmed on September 29, 1555, Suleiman, who had just returned to Istanbul, reappointed Rüstem as Grand Vizier.

Unfortunately, after his return to office, there was not much peace during his reign. In 1558, the health of the Hürrem Sultan began to deteriorate. This fact alone has immeasurably overwhelmed Rüstem. According to a report in early April, the Grand Vizier was very "depressed and troubled" by the illness of the Haseki Sultan. On April 15, Hürrem passed away, and Rüstem lost one of his most influential supporters, his ally, with whom he worked for nearly 20 years. According to all accounts, Rüstem was deeply saddened by the death of his mother-in-law. Unfortunately, however, he did not have time to mourn. Suleiman was completely shattered, so Rüstem had to perform all the duties of the sultan, he also had to support his shattered wife and daughter as well. In addition, soon Prince Bayezid rebelled against his father.

Most sources mention that Rüstem favored Prince Bayezid over Selim, but we do not know the exact background of this. In any case, no matter how much he liked and supported Bayezid, at no point could he help. The prince did not disarm even at the repeated request of the sultan, and eventually, after losing the battle, he fled to Suleiman's chief enemy, Tahmasp Sah. It doesn't matter how hard Rüstem tried, he was not able to save Bayezid, moreover his health began to deteriorate rapidly in 1560.

His death and legacy

Rüstem finally died on July 10 1561, after a long illness. He was prepared for death, as he left behind a very detailed, precise testament. In it, he disposed of each of his property and possessions. He described which part of his property he would leave to the state, which to his foundations, which to the foundations of the Hürrem Sultana and which to the foundations of Mihrimah, and what he would leave of his personal belongings to his wife and daughter, Ayşe Hümaşah. He entrusted some of his charities to his wife and others to his daughter. The fact that he left nothing to his son raises the possibility that Osman died before his father.

Although the people did not like him, we now know clearly that it was due to the ingenious solutions of Rüstem that they managed to conceal the decline of the empire throughout Suleiman's reign. Rüstem was one of the few statesmen who did not accept bribes, who placed the Sultan before all things, and who died a natural death, in his position, as a Grand Vizier. In addition, Rüstem, although he had a huge wealth, did a lot of charity and lived quite modestly compared to his rank.

Rüstem took great care to build his own mosque, but death intervened. His mosque - one of the most magnificent mosques in Istanbul today - was finally completed by Mihrimah Sultan. And Rüstem - since his own complex wasn't ready - rests in the Şehzade Mosque complex, close to Princes Mehmed and Cihangir.

Used sources: L. Peirce - The imperial harem; L. Peirce - Empress of the East; Z. Atçil - Why Did Süleyman the Magnificent Execute His Son Şehzade Mustafa in 1553; C. Imber - The Ottoman Empire 1300-1650; Y. Öztuna - Kanuni Sultan Süleyman

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Rüsztem Pasa az Oszmán történelem egyik legellentmondásosabb figurája, egyszerre a hűség és az álnokság példaképe, hiszen hűsége a feleségéhez és anyósához legendás, azonban ő tartják a legnagyobb felelősnek Musztafa herceg halálában. Na de mi az igazság? Hűséges államférfi volt Rüsztem, ami ritka mint a fehérholló vagy a birodalom legnagyobb árulója és gyilkosa?

Eredete és neveltetése

Rüsztem pasa, saját elmondása szerint horvát származású volt, egy kondás fiaként született nagyjából 1500 és 1505 között. Legalább egy testvére ismert, Sinan, akivel együtt kerültek a devşirme rendszeren keresztül Isztambulba. Testvéréből is befolyásos pasa vált idővel. Az Enderumban tanult a többi intelligens fiúval egyetemben, akiket megfelelőnek tartottak a továbbtanulásra. Akik nem ide kerültek, azok a janicsárságba vagy más katonai szervbe lettek beosztva. Rüsztem különösen intelligens és tehetséges férfi volt, tudásával kiemelkedett már az Endrum többi diákja közül is. Legalább három nyelven folyékonyan beszélt, különös tehetsége volt a közelharc és katonai hadviselés terén is. Emellett különösen józan, nyugodt férfi volt, aki sosem cselekedett meggondolatlanul.

A felemelkedés kezdete

Arról megoszlanak a vélemények, hogy Rüsztem hogyan hívta fel magára a szultán figyelmét. Egyes források szerint az 1526-os mohácsi csata során a szultán fegyverhordozójaként tevékenykedett és Szulejmán itt figyelt fel hűségére és intelligenciájára. Mások szerint egyszer Rüsztem egy ablakon keresztül látta, amint az ablak alatt elhaladó Szulejmán elejt valamit, mire kivetette magát az ablakon, hogy visszaadja a szultánnak a tárgyat. Ha utóbbi igaz, akkor Rüsztem kemény belépővel érkezett meg az oszmán történelembe.

Akárhogyan is, Szulejmán az 1520-as évek közepe táján már egész biztosan felismerte Rüsztem tehetségét és kinevezte egyik személyes emberének. Rüsztem feladata volt a szultán lovának ellátása, a kengyel tartása, amikor a szultán felszállt a lóra. Ezzel a beosztással Rüsztem tulajdonképpen mindenhová a szultánnal tarthatott, amelynek során természetesen a szultánnak volt ideje megismerni őt. Ez idő tájt Rüsztem, Szulejmán fiaival is időt tölthetett, hiszen a fiai gyakran lovagoltak ki a szultánnal vagy kísérték el hadjáratra. Rüsztem tehát már itt viszonylag közeli kapcsolatba került a szultán fiaival, különös tekintettel a Szulejmánnal sok időt töltő Mehmed herceggel és vérszerinti öccsével Szelimmel. De az sem kizárt, hogy arra is volt lehetősége, hogy láthassa vagy akár találkozhasson későbbi feleségével, Szulejmán lányával, Mihrimahval, hiszen néhány forrás szerint alkalmanként ő is kilovagolt édesapjával.

Rüsztem felemelkedése többeknek is szemetszúrt. Szulejmán bizalmasa, Ibrahim például egy 1534-es követi jelentés szerint különösen nem kedvelte Rüsztemet. Ennek oka pedig az volt, hogy a szultán egyre többször fogadta meg Rüsztem tanácsait és egyre magasabbra emelte a férfit, Ibrahim pedig féltette saját pozícióját és talán féltékeny volt arra, hogy valaki más is a szultán közelében van rajtakívül. Ibrahim különösen igyekezett Rüsztemmel kibabrálni, például ő volt az, aki Diyarbakir helytartójává tette meg. Ezzel Rüsztemet az iráni határ mellé száműzte, azt remélve, hogy ott elfelejtődik. Rüsztem azonban nem így gondolta és kiváló munkát végezve Diyarbakirban, előnyt kovácsolt száműzetéséből.

Szulejmán miután Rüsztem bizonyított Diyarbakirban, Anatólia beglerbégévé tette meg a férfit 1538-ban, majd 1539-ben végre vezíri rangra is emelte, és emellett neki adta az egyik legnagyobb tisztséget, amit egy pasa valaha is elérhet, Damaddá (vő) tette, mikor neki adta lánya, Mihrimah kezét.

Házassága Mihrimah szultánával

Egy birodalmi szultána házassága mindig komoly politikai döntés volt. Mihrimah esetében nagy valószínűséggel Szulejmán már régen eldöntötte, hogy Rüsztem lesz a férje, ugyanis hiába akart Hürrem szultána más férjet, Szulejmán egyből elutasította Hürrem javaslatát, a fiatal és jóképű egyiptomi beglerbéget, mint férjjelöltet. Hogy Szulejmán miért Rüsztemet választotta? Mindenképp olyan férjet akart lánya mellé, aki hűséges hozzá, ezzel elkerülve, hogy le kelljen váltani, ki kelljen végeztetni, ezzel pedig árvává tennie saját unokáit. Emellett olyan férjet akart, aki alkalmas arra, hogy magas beosztásokat viseljen, ezzel pedig Isztambulban maradhasson, hiszen Szulejmán - aki híresen elkötelezett volt lánya iránt - nem akarta, hogy kislánya tőle távol éljen. Rüsztem tökéletes választásnak bizonyult.

Szulejmán erős elhatározását Rüsztem mellett az is mutatja, hogy hiába terjesztették Rüsztem ellenségei, hogy a férfi leprás, Szulejmán nem hitte el, hanem maga küldte oda személyes orvosát, hogy vizsgálja meg Rüsztemet. Az orvos miközben Rüsztemet vizsgálta, egy tetvet talált a férfin, ami kizárta, hogy leprás lett volna. Ismerve Rüsztem különösen igényes természetét, azt, hogy a kor szokásaihoz nem feltétlen illeszkedve, naponta cserélte ruháit, nem kizárt, hogy a tetű Rüsztem cselszövéseként került rá. Az egészségesnek ítélt Rüsztem elől pedig minden akadály elhárult.

Mihrimah 17 éves volt ekkor, Rüsztem pedig a leírások alapján kétszer annyi idős volt, mint a szultána, tehát nagyjából 34 éves. Hirtelen nagy korkülönbségnek tűnik, ám a többi szultána és férjeik korkülönbségéhez képest, ez kész főnyeremény volt Mihrimah számára. Igaz, Rüsztem valószínűleg nem az férfi volt, akiről a kamaszlányok álmodoznak, hiszen követi leírások alapján alacsony és vörösképű férfi volt, mégis garantálta, hogy Mihrimah Isztambulban a családja körében maradhasson örökre és komoly politikai befolyást is jelentett neki Rüsztem. Emellett Rüsztem jól ismerte Mihrimah testvéreit, így egyértelmű volt, hogy a trónért folyó harcban az ő és testvérei oldalán fog állni mindhalálig.

Az esküvőt végül 1539 őszén rendezték meg, együtt Mihrimah két öccse - Bayezid és Cihangir - körülmetélési szertartásával. Az ünnepség végül 15 napig tartott, egész Isztambul a családdal együtt ünnepelt.

Házassága Mihrimah szultánával nyilvánvalóan nem szerelmi házasság volt, azonban minden jel arra utal, hogy idővel megtanulták kölcsönösen tisztelni és elfogadni egymást. Házasságukat 1541-ben lányuk, Ayşe Hümaşah születése koronázta meg. Sajnos nem áll rendelkezésre sok bizonyíték Rüsztem viszonyáról lányával, de közvetett források szerint közel álltak egymáshoz. Idővel egy fiuk is született, Osman, aki azonban sajnálatos módon fiatalon elhunyt. A fiú halálának ideje sajnos nem ismert.

Politikai emelkedése

1541-ben Rüsztem már a második vezír volt, tehát szépen haladt felfelé a ranglétrán. Ezen beosztásában őt tette meg a szultán az azévi magyar hadjárat fejévé. Rüsztem pályafutásában ez igen fontos kinevezés volt. A Magyar Királyság ugyanis előző évben vesztette el királyát Szapolyai Jánost, akinek utódja egy kéthetes kisfiú volt csupán. A váratlan esemény hatására a Habsburg uralkodó Ferdinánd azonnal támadásba lendült, hogy még több részt szerezzen meg a Magyar Királyságból. Ezért az oszmánok nem várhattak, és támadásba lendültek és végül szakították hosszú időre három részre Magyarországot. A Tiszántúl és Erdély Izabella és csecsemő fia János Zsigmond kezén maradt évi 10.000Ft adó fejében, a Felvidék, Horvátország, Nyugat- Dunántúl, Szlavónia a Habsburgok kezén maradt, míg a Duna menti területek – a Szultán ellenőrzése alatt álltak. Rüsztemnek itt abban volt komoly szerepe, hogy végül a Tiszántúl és Erdély Izabella és csecsemő fia kezén maradhatott. A szultán ugyanis máshogy tervezte. Szulejmán be akarta kebelezni egész Erdélyt és a Tiszántúlt, Izabellát pedig fiával együtt török fogságba kívánta vitetni Isztambulba. Izabella azonban könyörgő leveleket küldött Hürrem szultánának és Mihrimah szultánának és emellett ajándékokat és követeket küldött Rüsztemhez is. Rüsztem pasa végül sikerrel győzte meg, Mihrimah és Hürrem támogatását élvezve a szultánt arról, hogy hagyja meg Izabellát és fiát Erdély és a Tiszántúl uralkodójaként. Ez hatalmas lépés és siker volt, Szulejmán ugyanis alig néhány hónappal korábban igen agresszív módon utasította el Izabella könyörgését két török fogságban senyvedő magyar főúr elengedésére vonatkozóan. Szulejmán a kérést elutasította és azonnal kivégeztette a két fogjot. Ilyen háttérrel különösen érdekes, hogy Rüsztem, Mihrimah és Hürrem képesek voltak meggyőzni a szultánt. Szándékaik nem ismertek. Mihrimah és Hürrem talán Izabella anyai és asszonyi könyörgése miatt álltak a nő mellé, Rüsztem pedig talán racionálisabb szempontból. Ugyanis meglehetősen kis eséllyel sikerült volna az oszmánoknak végérvényesen megtartani Erdélyt, elvesztése pedig kellemetlen lett volna számukra.

Az előbbi esemény is jól mutatja, hogy Szulejmán igen nagyra tartotta Rüsztemet, azonban megtagadta tőle azt a kegyet, amit korábban Ibrahimnak megadott. Sosem engedte magához olyan közel a férfit, mint anno Ibrahimot. Ezt Mihrimah és Hürrem több forrás szerint is nehezményezte, ugyanis igyekeztek rávenni a szultánt, hogy engedje magához közelebb Rüsztemet. A szultán azonban minduntalan úgy felelt, hogy "ekkora ostobaságot elég volt egyszer elkövetnem". Ez jól mutatja, hogy Szulejmánt milyen mélyen bántotta Ibrahim árulása és minden bizonnyal félt, hogy még egyszer el kelljen viseljen hasonlót.

Azonban a szultán enyhe távolságtartása nem hátráltatta abban Rüsztemet, hogy a követekkel ugyanolyan bensőséges viszonyt tudjon ápolni, mint korábban Ibrahim tette. A követek kivétel nélkül úgy jellemezték Rüsztemet, mint aki igen szeret magáról beszélni nekik. Gyakran dicsekedett ironikus módon azzal, hogy egy kondás fia milyen magasságokig tudott emelkedni az Oszmán Birodalomban. Emellett a követek azt is megjegyezték, hogy milyen eszes a pasa, különösen lelkes minden üggyel kapcsolatban és igen előrelátó módon hoz döntéseket. A legfontosabb pedig, ami a követek figyelmét sem kerülte el az volt, hogy Rüsztem - Ibrahimmal ellentétben - mindig a szultán alattvalójaként beszélt magáról, a szultánhoz a végletekig hűséges volt és híresen megvesztegethetetlen volt.

1544-ben végül Rüsztem megkapta a nagyvezíri címet, melyet Szulejmán abban a tudatban adott neki, hogy tisztában volt vele, Rüsztem, Hürrem és Mihrimah szövetségese. Rüsztemet nagyvezírként a követek mindig dicsérték és a szultán is elégedett volt vele. Legfontosabb sikere nagyvezírként az volt, hogy sikerült a birodalmi kincstárat megtöltenie. Ehhez minden létező megoldást bevetett, például attól sem riadt vissza, hogy a palota kertjében termő virágokat és zöldségeket eladja. Emiatt sokan kapzsinak és garasoskodónak tartották, ám ettől függetlenül végül neki sikerült megoldani a birodalom anyagi problémáit, melyeket Ibrahim korábban csak tovább rontott. Rüsztem másik zseniális megoldása a pénzszerzésre nem volt más, mint a követektől kizsarolni, hogy minél drágább ajándékokkal halmozzák el őt és a szultánt. Ha nem volt elég drága egy ajándék, egyszerűen a követeket nem fogadta. Emiatt több követ is panaszkodott uralkodójának és szégyenkezve kért több pénzt és ajándékot. Minden évben egyre többet kért a követektől, melyet az egyik okos követ, Alvise Renier azzal küszöbölt ki, hogy kérés nélkül évente küldött 100 arany dukátot a pasának, mielőtt az többért kérhetett volna. Kapzsiságnak tűnhet, azonban Rüsztem ezen ajándékok nagyrészét - a korábbi nagyvezírrel ellentétben - beszolgáltatta a birodalmi kincstárba és csupán a személyesen neki érkezők egy részét tartotta meg. Rüsztem "kapzsisága" volt az, ami Szulejmán uralkodásának második felére stabilan tartotta a birodalom anyagi hátterét, azonban ettől függetlenül, Rüsztem nem volt népszerű a nép szemében.

A Rüsztem-Hürrem-Mihrimah koalíció harca Musztafa herceg ellen

Rüsztem, mint Mihrimah férje egyértelműen elkötelezett volt Mihrimah öccsei iránt. Különösen, hogy közelről ismerte a hercegeket, míg Musztafával nem volt semmilyen kapcsolata. Véleményem szerint éppen ezért hiba Rüsztemet elítélni választása miatt. Melyik férfi támogatná azt a herceget, aki veszélyt jelent feleségére és sógoraira? Mindemellett Musztafa sosem kedvelte Rüsztem Pasát, tehát a herceg oldalán biztos lefokozás várta volna Rüsztemet.

Az, hogy a triumvirátus hogyan harcolt Musztafa ellen, pontosan nem ismert, hiszen nem hagytak maguk után bizonyítékokat. Nagy valószínűséggel az alapelvük az volt, hogy Musztafa minden - természetesen előforduló - hibáját és ballépését a szultán elé tárták, míg Hürrem fiai esetében ezeket eltitkolták. Így tulajdonképpen rágalmazás és hazugságok nélkül tudták meggyengíteni Musztafát apja szemében. Mindemellett Rüsztem nagyvezírként a szultán helyettese lett, és nagyon sok dologban dönthetett. Így Musztafának is tőle kellett támogatást kérni, amikor 1549-ben a grúzok meggyilkolták Erzurum helytartóját. Musztafa támogató hadsereget kért Rüsztemtől, hogy kizavarhassa a grúzokat a birodalom határán túlra. Rüsztem azonban figyelmen kívül hagyta majd elutasította a kérést, ugyanis veszélyes lett volna a nagy támogatottságú Musztafa herceg számára katonákat küldeni. Emellett pedig Musztafa esetleges sikere tovább növelte volna népszerűségét és talán Szulejmán is elismerte volna fia erényeit. Azonban nem szabad biztosnak lennünk abban, hogy mindez Szulejmán tudomása nélkül zajlott. Igen valószínű, hogy Rüsztem tudatta Szulejmánnal Musztafa kérését. Musztafa népszerűsége azonban eddigre már veszélyeztette a szultán uralmát, így Szulejmánnak se állt érdekében sereget küldeni Musztafa számára. Néhány évvel később hasonló grúz támadás zajlott le, hasonló kimenetellel.

Szulejmán egészsége fokozatosan romlott, a köszvénye egyre többször okozott számára nehézségeket az 1540-es évek második felétől kezdve, ezzel pedig mégtöbb teher nyomta Rüsztem vállát. Neki kellett a szultán helyett hadjáratokat szervezni és vezetni. A népnek és katonáknak pedig nagyon nem tetszett a szultán távolléte és egyre több olyan pletyka kapott szárnyra, hogy a birodalomnak új, harcos kedvű, egészséges szultánra van szüksége. Ez a probléma 1552-ben csúcsosodott. Rüsztem vezette a hadsereget, amely 50 000 katonából állt, melyek nagyrésze janicsár volt. Nemsokkal indulásuk után hírt kapott arról, hogy a szultán nagyon beteg, talán a halálán van. Rüsztem ilyen körülmények között nem folytatta a hadjáratot, hanem letáborozott, hiszen félt távol kerülni a fővárostól. Attól tartott, hogy Musztafa ha hírét veszi az eseményeknek a janicsárok élén könnyűszerrel masírozhatna a fővárosba és végeztethetné ki Hürrem fiait. A szultán egészsége hamarosan javulni kezdett, így Rüsztem folytathatta a hadjáratot. Azonban itt még nem volt vége a nehézségeknek. Amikor a hadsereg az Amasya és Konya közti kereszteződéshez ért, a janicsárok úgy döntöttek, hogy tiszteletüket teszik Amasyában jövendő szultánjuknak, Musztafának. Rüsztem megparancsolta a janicsároknak, hogy ne hagyják el a tábort és folytassák útjukat, a janicsárok azonban mit sem törődve vele fellázadtak és legtöbbjük Amasyába vette az irányt. Rüsztem a janicsárok vezető agájával és néhány hűséges janicsárral együtt folytatta útját Konya irányába. Musztafa pedig tovább tetézve a bajt vendégül látta a janicsárokat és fogadta üdvözlésüket. Rüsztem azonnal levelet írt a szultánnak az eseményekről, Szulejmán azonban nem hitte el, hogy fia ilyet tett volna és a janicsárokat tette meg egyedüli felelősöknek. Rüsztem Isztambulba visszatérve újra elmondta Szulejmánnak a történteket, bizonyítékokkal alátámasztva, hogy Musztafa bizony pénzt és ételt osztott a janicsároknak. A szultán magából kikelve közölte Rüsztemmel, hogy ne beszéljen badarságokat. Rüsztem azonban folytatta és elmesélte a táborban keringő pletykákat is, miszerint Musztafa lázadást tervez a szultán ellen Tahmasp Sah, perzsa uralkodó segítségével. Szulejmán bár továbbra is elutasító volt Rüsztemmel, minden bizonnyal gyanakodni kezdett fiára mert az eset kivizsgálását rendelte el.

Szulejmán a következő évben, 1553-ban, hogy bizonyítsa alkalmasságát maga vezette csapatait harcba. 1553 augusztusában hagyták el Isztambult és indultak kelet felé. Szulejmán célja azonban elsősorban nem a hadjárat volt, hanem hadjárat ürügyén fia, Musztafa kivégeztetése. Musztafa Ereğlinél csatlakozott apja csapataihoz és támogatóinak ellenkezése ellenére is a szultán elé járult, aki a sátrában kivégeztette. A herceg kivégzése hatalmas lázadást váltott ki a hadseregben, a katonák bűnbakot követeltek. Szulejmán, hogy mentse önmagát és vele tartózkodó fiait, Rüsztem pasát tette meg felelőssé és leváltotta pozíciójából. Aznap éjjel pedig Rüsztem titokban elhagyta a tábort, épp időben mert a dühös janicsárok nemsokkal később betörtek sátrába és meg akarták lincselni. A követek akik tudósítottak az eseményekről felvetették annak lehetőségét, hogy Rüsztem maga kérte leváltását, hogy mentse saját és a szultán életét is. Ez felveti annak a lehetőségét, hogy a szultán és Rüsztem valamilyen titkos egyezséget kötöttek, miszerint Rüsztem le lesz ugyan váltva, de az első adandó alkalommal újra visszakerül majd pozíciójába. Ezt az eshetőséget valószínűsíti az is, hogy Rüsztem, bár már nem volt nagyvezír, Isztambulba visszatérve továbbra is úgy viselkedett, mint a nagyvezír. Annak dacára, hogy Kara Ahmed Pasa lett az új nagyvezír, Rüsztem továbbra is úgy fogadta a követeket palotájában, mintha mi sem történt volna. Emellett a mecsetbe is ugyanazzal a pompával és kísérettel járt, mint korábban, sőt egyértelműen ki is mondta a követeknek, hogy ne aggódjanak, hamarosan visszakerül pozíciójába. Ezt pedig a hűséges Rüsztem nem merte volna megtenni a szultán tudomása nélkül. Neje és anyósa vagy nem tudott a titkos egyességről - vagy bölcsen úgy tettek, mintha nem tudnának róla -, állandó jelleggel levelekkel bombázták Szulejmánt és kérték, hogy bocsásson meg Rüsztemnek és adja vissza tisztségét.

Vissza a csúcsra

Az újonnan kinevezett nagyvezír, Kara Ahmed Pasa, Szulejmán sógora, nem váltotta be a hozzá fűzött reményeket, így 1555-ben kivégeztette a szultán. Sokan kivégzése mögött is a Rüsztem-Hürrem-Mihrimah triumvirátust sejtik. Azonban azt sem lehet kizárni, hogy a szultán okkal választotta a nem túl alkalmas Kara Ahmedet nagyvezírnek, hogy mielőbb visszahelyezhesse Rüsztemet a pozícióba. Akárhogyan is, Kara Ahmed halálával 1555. szeptember 29-én az Isztambulba épphogy visszatérő Szulejmán újra kinevezte Rüsztemet nagyvezírré.

Visszatérése után sajnálatosan nem sok béke volt uralkodása alatt. 1558-ban Hürrem szultána egészsége romlani kezdett. Már ez a tény is mérhetetlenül lesújtotta Rüsztemet. Egy április eleji jelentés szerint a nagyvezír igen "lehangolt és gondterhelt" volt a haszeki szultána betegsége miatt. Április 15-én pedig Hürrem elhunyt, ezzel Rüsztem elveszítette egyik legbefolyásosabb támogatóját, szövetségesét, akivel majd 20 évig dolgoztak együtt. Minden beszámoló szerint Rüsztemet mélyen megviselte anyósa halála. Sajnálatos módon azonban nem volt ideje gyászolni. Szulejmán teljesen összetört, így Rüsztemnek kellett a szultán minden feladatát ellátni, támogatnia kellett szintén összetört feleségét és lányát is. Emellett pedig hamarosan elszabadult a pokol, amikor Bayezid herceg fellázadt apja ellen.

A legtöbb forrás úgy említi, hogy Rüsztem Pasa Bayezid herceget favorizálta Szelimmel szemben, azonban nem tudjuk ennek pontos hátterét. Mindenesetre akármennyire is kedvelte és támogatta Bayezidet, egy ponton túl ő sem segíthetett. A herceg a szultán többszöri kérésére sem fegyverkezett le és végül a csata elvesztése után Szulejmán legfőbb ellenségéhez Tahmasp Sahhoz menekült. Rüsztem ezen események alatt ha akarta sem tudta volna megmenteni Bayezidet és egészsége is rohamosan romlani kezdett 1560-ban.

Halála és hagyatéka

Rüsztem 1561-ben végül hosszas betegség után hunyt el július 10-én. Készült a halálra, ugyanis igen részletes, precíz végakaratot hagyott hátra. Ebben vagyonának és tulajdonainak mindegyikéről rendelkezett. Leírta, hogy vagyonának mely részét hagyja az államra, melyet alapítványaira, melyet Hürrem szultána alapítványára és melyet Mihrimah szultána alapítványaira, valamint, hogy mit hagy személyes dolgai közül feleségére és lányára, Ayşe Hümaşahra. Jótékony szervezeteinek egy részét felesége irányítására bízta, másik részét pedig lányáéra. Az, hogy fiára nem hagyott semmit felveti annak a lehetőségét, hogy Oszmán apja előtt hunyt el.

Bár a nép nem kedvelte, ma már egyértelműen tudjuk, hogy Rüsztem zseniális megoldásainak volt köszönhető, hogy a birodalom hanyatlását sikerült végig eltitkolni Szulejmán uralkodása alatt. Rüsztem egyike volt azon kevés államférfinak, aki nem fogadott el kenőpénzt, aki a szultán iránti hűségét minden elé helyezte és aki természetes halállal, eredeti pozíciójában, nagyvezírként hunyt el. Emellett Rüsztem, bár hatalmas vagyonnal rendelkezett rengetet jótékonykodott és meglehetősen szerényen élt rangjához képest.

Rüsztem nagy gondot fordított saját mecsetjének építtetésére, azonban a halál közbe szólt. Mecsetjét - mely a mai Isztambul egyik legpompásabb mecsetje - végül Mihrimah szultána fejeztette be. Rüsztem pedig - saját komplexuma nem révén alkalmas a temetésre - a Şehzade mecset komplexumban nyugszik, közel Mehmed és Cihangir hercegekhez.

Felhasznált források: L. Peirce - The imperial harem; L. Peirce - Empress of the East; Z. Atçil - Why Did Süleyman the Magnificent Execute His Son Şehzade Mustafa in 1553; C. Imber - The Ottoman Empire 1300-1650; Y. Öztuna - Kanuni Sultan Süleyman

[emy-loves-you]

Sanders Sides AU-gust Day 13: Rock Band

Patton is the most popular boy in school, yet he can’t get the attention of his three crushes. When he learns that they’re all starting a band together, he becomes determined to make their dreams come true. Patton POV, endgame LAMP 

TW: Use of homophobic slur

Day 12 | Masterlist | Day 14

Patton Picani liked to think that he had superpowers. He could sway almost any person to be kind with just a smile. He could ask one question and topple an entire social norm. He could transform a nobody into a somebody with just a few words. It was his superpower, the ability to effortlessly sway the masses.

The truth was… complicated. Or rather, it was a series of scenarios and lessons that gave Patton this ‘superpower.’ The people who gave them to him? His parents, Emile and Remy Picani.

Emile and Remy loved their son very much and taught them everything they knew. This wasn’t a bad thing; Patton soaked up the lessons like a sponge. But the parents each had different things to teach him. Emile taught Patton everything he knew as a therapist so he could avoid conflicts. How to tell what someone’s feeling, what to say when someone’s upset, etc. Remy taught Patton how to grow up in a world turned against him. How to tell the difference between real and fake friends, how to lie with a straight face, how to spot a bully, etc. Emile helped Patton be confident in expressing himself with pastel colors and skirts. Remy helped Patton never lose a game of poker. So before Patton even started elementary school, he knew how to use his ‘superpowers.’

Patton also learned things on his own throughout the years. He learned that bullies were feared but not trusted. He learned that teacher’s pets would tell on you at a moment’s notice. He learned how to control the rumor mill, and which friends would stab him in the back. So in their tiny town with only three elementary schools, two middle schools, and one high school, Patton rose to power quickly. But Patton wouldn’t abuse his power. No, Patton tried to make a difference. He offered teacher’s pets protection and popularity in exchange for getting bullies suspended. He kept the rumor mill focused on the popular kids and away from the nobodies that couldn’t protect themselves. He ruined the lives of violent jocks and snotty rich kids with a few words and a disapproving frown. Bullying reached an all-time low, and by the time Patton was in high school he was the ‘friend’ of almost everyone in the city under the age of 21 (and all their parents. Patton was a model citizen, no one could dislike him).

But there was a cost for Patton’s power. Even though he was technically ‘friends’ with everyone, he didn’t have any actual friends. Everyone thought they were his friend, but after a while, everyone’s faces started to look the same. And even when they did catch Patton’s attention, they were usually too far down the social ladder for Patton to be more than casual acquaintances with.

There were exactly three people that caught Patton’s attention, and they just so happened to be his three crushes.

The first crush came in the form of Roman Prince. Like the name implied, Roman was a Disney Prince in terms of charisma and charm. He was in every school theatre production, and almost always the lead role. He would have been a popular kid, if not for his rivalry against Janice Mayberry. Janice had been at the top of the social ladder just as long as Patton had. She was extremely pretty, and a cheerleader to boot, so not even Patton’s influence could top the sheer power she held. So outside of the theatre group, Roman was a nobody. But Roman was also daring, and just, and drop-dead gorgeous. Patton attended every single play and musical, just to see Roman on stage. But beyond giving Roman a brief ‘congratulations’ at the end of each production, Patton couldn’t talk to him.

Patton could interact with his other crush a little more. Logan Berry was the definition of a nerd. He was in all advanced classes, he wore ties, he never got below 95% on any test. But he wasn’t a teacher’s pet. Actually, most teachers here hated Logan, for the simple fact that Logan would not let mistakes slide by. If a teacher said something wrong during a lesson, Logan spoke up. If a teacher graded something unfairly, Logan spoke up about it. The teachers always tried to report Logan for his ‘attitude,’ but the truth was he didn’t have an attitude. Logan only stated facts, and he kept his hand up politely while never having any sort of inflection in his tone. There were only a hand full of people that could make him show emotion, hence the nickname ‘robot.’ Patton wanted to speak up about the nickname, but he knew it would only draw more attention to Logan. But Logan wasn’t emotionless. He was kind, and patient, and helpful. Patton had needed help in his math classes, and his parents paid Logan to be his tutor. Patton ignored the fact the Logan was being paid to interact with him. Logan was extremely good with explanations, even when Patton couldn’t wrap his head around a concept. After a few weeks of math tutoring, Patton asked for help with English. One thing led to another, and they were basically study-buddies (with, you know, one of them being paid). But outside of study sessions, Patton couldn’t talk to him.

Then there was Virgil Storm. Virgil had transferred to their high school halfway through Freshman year. He was a loner, never seen hanging out with anyone. But something about him immediately drew in Patton’s attention. Maybe it was the (confirmed) rumors of Virgil getting kicked out of other schools due to fights. Maybe it was the way that his lips quirked every time he got a question right in class. Or maybe it was the way he looked in gym class, hoodie off and muscles exposed. Whatever the reason, Patton had been drawn to Virgil. Even if they had never spoken to each other. Well, until now.

It was September of Sophomore year, and Patton had been strolling down the hallway, minding his own business. He normally didn’t eat lunch at school, so he used this time to interact with teens outside of classes.

Crash!

Patton’s head whipped around, seeing a student shoved into the lockers. Now, that wouldn’t do at all. Patton quickly made his way to the fight, quickly recognizing the two teens. Virgil was on the ground with a bloody lip, while Jacob Smith stood over him. Jacob was captain of the football team, if Patton remembered correctly. Patton frowned as he noticed several of his ‘friends’ stand in the background but not help Virgil.

“Jacob!” Patton stepped between Virgil and Jacob, effectively pulling everyone’s attention towards him. Patton put on his best ‘disappointed’ expression. “Why are you hurting him?”

Jacob frowned. “He deserved it, Patton!”

Patton tilted his head slightly, making sure he kept the wide-eyed, innocent look. “What did he do?”

Jacob growled. “He’s a faggot that deserves to rot in Hell!”

Patton used all of his self-control to not show any of his shock. He didn’t know Jacob was such a homophobe. To use slurs and hurt a kid for being gay? That won’t do at all. Patton kept his curious look. “What does ‘faggot’ mean? Does it mean he’s a meanie?” Poor, innocent Patton wouldn’t know what that word meant. And Jacob Smith just sullied poor Patton’s mouth with those words. At least, that’s what everyone else thought.

Everyone stood in silence before someone spoke up. “It means he’s gay!” Patton couldn’t figure out who said that, but he mentally thanked them for giving him the perfect opening.

“So he got hit because he’s gay?” Patton hunched over slightly, pulling out all the stops for his ‘innocent, defenseless little lamb’ look.

Jacob smirked, glad to see that Patton was catching on. “Yeah, he deserves to be beat until he learns his lesson!”

Patton let his lip quiver as he summoned his crocodile tears. “B-but I’m gay!” While this wasn’t extremely common knowledge, it was extremely implied through Patton’s mannerisms and style of dress. Patton let the tears pour out. Several students started to approach as they caught on to what Patton was implying. “A-are you gonna b-beat me too?”

Jacob seemed to realize his mistake. “Pat-” He moved in to wrap his arms around Patton.

Patton flinched in (fake) fear, throwing his hands over his head. Still, what he yelled was loud and clear. “NO, PLEASE DON’T HURT ME!” Several students grabbed Jacob by the arms and dragged him away.

Janice approached Patton now, making sure to put some distance between them. “Are you okay, Pat?”

Patton let out a shaky sigh before lowering his arms. He gave Janice a wobbly smile. “Y-yeah. I’m gonna go wash my face in the bathroom. Can you go make sure Jacob doesn’t try this again?” Janice nodded, slinking off to wherever Jacob was dragged to. Now that all of the crowd was focused on Jacob, Patton turned his attention to Virgil. He was staring up at Patton with a mixture of awe and… fear? “C’mon, let’s go get cleaned up.” Virgil nodded mutely, getting up on his own. He grabbed his bag and a case of some sort (he probably dropped them when Jacob attacked him) before following Patton to the nearest bathroom. Patton grabbed some paper towels and got them wet before handing them to Virgil, who sat on the counter of the sinks. “Here, for your lip.” Virgil accepted it silently, dotting his lip to stem the bleeding. “I could take you to the nurse if you want.” Virgil shook his head no and Patton shrugged, moving to fix his makeup.

“Is it true?” Patton’s head shot up and Virgil looked away with a blush, hiding his face in his hoodie. “That you’re… um…”

Patton finished the question. “That I’m gay?” Virgil nodded, still blushing. “Yeah, I am. Are you also gay, or was Jacob accusing you of being gay for no reason?” Because if Virgil wasn’t gay, then that was an entirely different can of worms to deal with (one of which being Patton’s crush on him).

Virgil nodded. “Yeah, Jacob had seen my phone screen with me and my boyfriends.”

Patton tilted his head. He didn’t know that Virgil had boyfriends. “Can I see?” Virgil nodded, slowly taking out his phone to show Patton the lock screen. Logan, Roman and Virgil all stared at him, huddled under a mass of blankets. Patton felt his heart constrict at the fact that all of his crushes were dating each other so Patton didn’t have a chance, and smiled. “Awe, you look so cute together!” He moved to resume working on his makeup and accidentally bumped Virgil’s case with his foot. “What do you have in there?” He asked, genuinely curious.

Virgil blushed. “It’s a guitar. Me and my boyfriends were gonna practice after school.”

Patton let his eyebrows raise in shock. “You guys play guitar?”

Virgil turned even redder. “I do. Roman does bass and Logan does drums. We have a small band called The Sides. It’s nothing really.”

Patton’s eyes lit up. “You have a band? That’s so cool! Do you play at parties?” Patton hadn’t been to many parties lately.

Virgil sighed. “No, not yet. I don’t think we’ll ever be good enough for that.”

Patton shook his head. “I bet you are! Do you know how awesome it would be to have a live band at your party instead of some lame DJ? I promise, once you start promoting yourself, people will be begging to hire you!” Suddenly, the bell went off, signaling the end of lunch. “Oh, I’ve gotta go. See you later!”

Patton made a note to bring up playing instruments with Logan during their next study session. Even if Patton could never be romantically involved with his crushed, he could still make them happy. And if that meant pulling a few strings to make them the most popular music group in school?

Well, Patton was willing to pull a few strings for them.

[bobasheebaby]

Cordonia 101- Cordonian Ruby chapter 8

Pairing: Olivia x Bastien; Ruby Rys x Beau Larkin; Jo Ellen Larkin (OC)

Word count: 1,849

Warnings: a touch of angst

Summary: The family readies themselves for the battle to come.

A/N: When I was writing the chapter that was omitted I created a lot of the history for Cordonia and Auvernal in this series. I had written that chapter long before it was revealed that Isabella was the one with the royal blood, in this series Bradshaw is the one with the royal blood and you will learn in this chapter why he covets Cordonia so badly.

A/N2: I tried to remain mostly vague when describing the map in this chapter and that’s mostly because when I looked at the map from TC&TF I realized that many places were off from where I cannoned them. Lythikos as I see it is not surrounded on three sides by water the way Abanthus was. This is the way I canon the history since we never learn much concrete from TC&TF, RoE, TRR, TRM and TRH about the exact forming of Cordonia or where duchies are located.

A/N3: Lovett took over, I have zero control over him and well I’m lucky I was able to take back over. This kid is a serious pain in the ass but I still love him.

A/N4: A major thanks @sirbeepsalot for all your graping, prereading, editing, and telling me when to let go. I love you boo! Thank you to my snippet reader @loveellamae who screamed appropriately.

Series warnings: character death, blood, surgical procedures done by non medical personnel, may go NSFW in the future. May contain gun violence, knife violence, threats, not sure how dark this will go. By requesting to be tagged you acknowledge you are at least 18 years of age.

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

Disclaimer: I own Ruby, Galen, Lovett, and Beau, I’m borrowing Bastien and Olivia from PB.

“Are you sure Mama Jo doesn’t mind?” Ruby asked, worrying her lip, “I can find time to do both …”

“Ruby, she’s excited, she wants to surprise us. She said we had more important things to worry about than something as trivial as planning a wedding.”

“I wouldn’t say our wedding isn’t important … I don’t want her to think I don’t care …” she idly twisted her ring. Her heart pounded in her chest, she didn’t want his mother to think their wedding wasn’t just as important to her.

“RuRu, relax.” Beau covered her hand with his, stilling her movements, a soft smile spreading over his lips as she met his eye. “She only meant compared to saving a country from a dictatorship. Trust me, Mom knows and loves you. She’s over the moon about you joining the family and the fact that she gets to plan a ‘surprise wedding’ as she calls it. The only thing she’d tell me was that it’s going to be held at Nan and Pop’s.”

“That’s perfect.”

“That’s exactly what I told her. Now, tell me everything I need to know about Cordonia, this asshat, and the country that grew the asshat.”

Ruby fought to keep a straight face. “Did you really just call King Bradshaw asshat?”

“I’d say Asshat suits him better,” Beau replied with a shrug.

Ruby shook her head as her hands smoothed out the large worn map. “Okay, so Mama said that originally Cordonia was five separate kingdoms; well actually more than five but the first five, Abanthus, Fydoria, Stormholt, Bellmere, and Ebrimel were united under one queen, Queen Kenna Rys.” She pointed to five large duchies on the map. “They are now known as Lythikos, Krona, the Capitol, Castelsarreillan, and Portavira.”

Beau nodded for her to continue as she raised her head.

“Aurelia, the Blackspine Mountains, and an area called the Foundry were later united under Kenna’s leadership forming the entirety of Cordonia.” She circled three large areas on the map with her finger. “They formed Ramsford, Domvallier, and several other duchies.

This,” she pointed to a large country across from Cordonia, a large span of ocean the only ‘border’ between, “is Auvernal. That’s the country that King Bradshaw is from.

Auvernal was called The Iron Empire or Ductoria when Kenna united The Five Kingdoms.

Ductoria was led by Empress Azura. She was called ‘She Who Shines Brightest’ or ‘Her Radiance’ by her people.

Mama said there are a lot of stories about The Five Kingdoms, Blackspine Mountains, and Ductoria that include wielding powers of fire, powers of electricity, and even humans who could transform into dragons.

It was said that Empress Azura had powers and ruled Ductoria for over one thousand years. She was able to maintain both her youth and abilities by siphoning the life force from her subjects who saw it as an honor to give their life for hers.”

“She sounds twisted.”

“She does. Fifty years before Kenna united the Five Kingdoms Azura approached each of the leaders and ‘peacefully offered’ a share of Ductoria’s wealth if they pledged allegiance to her. The leaders declined and Azura declared war against the Five Kingdoms which Mama says was the beginning catalyst for Kenna to unite the kingdoms.”

“Okay, twisted and power-hungry, bad mix.”

Ruby fought back a giggle. “Very bad mix. So Ductoria and the Five Kingdoms fought for fifty years before Kenna united them. The king of Abanthus had tried to ‘unite’ the kingdom’s in his own way, though he used force. After uniting the kingdoms, Kenna was able to defeat Azura with the help of Azura’s daughter and heir, Lia.”

“Wait, Azura’s daughter helped Kenna?”

“Yes, she wasn’t power hungry like her mother and saw the importance in each life. She was said to also possess abilities though she rarely used them, and never the way her mother did. After Kenna killed Azura, Lia pledged both her allegiance and her wealth with no stipulations.

Just as Cordonia grew and prospered under Kenna, Ductoria grew and prospered under Lia.”

“But Ductoria is known as Auvernal now.”

“Yes, one of Lia’s descendants changed the name to distance the country from Azura.

Mama and Papa said that every year there was a Five Kingdoms celebration to honor Kenna and her allies who helped end the violence with Ductoria and unite the kingdoms. The stories of magic and dragons were told through every generation.

Queen Eleanor, King Liam’s mother, and my grandmother was from Auvernal and just as Cordonian children learned the history through stories of magic wielders and dragons, so did Auvernalese children.

Eleanor said some of the stories told about Kenna and Azura were told in a much darker context. To some, Kenna was the villain who took their majestic empress and left them with one they deemed weaker.”

“So that’s what Asshat was told, that Kenna was the villain and Azura was what, an innocent victim?”

“Most likely, apparently to some the magical abilities that Azura was said to have were revered and just as she had compared herself to a goddess, so did some of her subjects who of course passed it on through the generations.”

“So all of this, your parents dying, all the devastation Cordonia faced since then was because of a ‘wrong’ committed centuries ago?”

“That’s what Mama and Papa believe. We can’t know for sure why Bradshaw was so determined to have a betrothal alliance that he then murdered my parents, but they suspect that Bradshaw was merely using the alliance to gain Cordonia and when my birth parents refused … he killed them.”

“Shit, okay. How do we do this?”

Ruby blew out a breath, she’d been asking herself the same question since deciding to reclaim her country and birthright. “I’m not sure. … Mama said knowing the past would help us unearth any weaknesses. She also said she had some loyal contacts who should be able to help us understand the current state of Cordonia which will help us in planning.”

“So,” he pulled her into his lap, “after you Kenna his ass, then what?”

“Then you and I get to decide what we want.”

“No matter what you choose I’m in, all in, always.”

- - -

“Awesome! Swords!” Lovett exclaimed as he tore across the basement they used for training.

“Lovett, remember, they are weapons.”

“And they should be treated with respect.” Lovett heaved a sigh as he dropped his outstretched arms to his sides. “But it’s not like these are real.”

“They can still really hurt someone, remember my cracked ribs?” Ruby said, ruffling his dark auburn hair.

“Oh yeah, I think Beau was more upset than you were.”

Ruby shrugged, “wasn’t my first broken bone, probably won’t be my last. Besides you know what Mama always says.”

“If you can breathe, you can stand. If you can stand, you can fight.” Lovett replied, standing prouder and straighter with every word.

“So do you really think a few cracked ribs could keep me down?”

“I guess not,” Lovett replied with a shake of his head. “So … swords … are we dueling? Can I duel Ruby?” His dark smokey eyes sparkling with excitement as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

“We are dueling. Papa and I thought it best you go against Beau while Ruby faces off against Papa,” Olivia said, lifting a practice sword from the table. “Papa and I are still trying to form a strategy, but I remember from a ‘friendly’ visit to Auvernal that Bradshaw is more bark than bite, so being able to duel might come into play.”

“What do you mean ‘he’s more bark than bite’?” Ruby questioned, the more she knew about her opposition the better.

“Your mother and I went on a little ‘girls trip’ that Bradshaw’s wife Isabella planned. It was merely a show of their strength, nothing more than a thinly veiled threat while trying to humiliate your mother. Isabella failed, your mother was more capable than many of the court had thought.

Over the course of the evening we learned that while Bradshaw would brag about his medals he won, that he had never seen battle. I’m sure as the crowned prince he had learned to duel, but he is arrogant and I’m sure he would be an easy enemy to defeat one on one.

While Ruby is the rightful ruler and would make the challenge, Bradshaw is a sexist piece of shit who will likely refuse to duel against a girl. As her spouse, the role would fall to you Beau, so we need to make sure neither of you are rusty.”

- - -

Ruby shifted in closer into Beau’s warm embrace, in a few short weeks they’d be leaving Texas behind and heading toward an uncertain future. In that moment everything felt safe and perfect, snuggled into his side encapsulated in his woodsy scent, her brothers sitting on the floor laughing and joking.

Would she and her brothers still have moments where they could be happy and free or would everything change the second they all boarded the plane? So many questions hung in the air nearly casting her decision to reclaim her birthright in doubt.

“Ruby,” her youngest brother's voice pulled her from the depths of her thoughts. “Are you and Beau going to have babies now?”

Ruby stifled a groan, she knew she’d be getting asked that soon enough, but from her younger brothers? “That’s not polite to ask Lovett, not everyone who gets married wants kids and sometimes those who do can’t and the question just reminds them of what they wanted and couldn’t have.”

“Oh …” The silence hung just long enough that she thought the subject was dropped. “Well you guys do, right? Why aren’t you planning the wedding Ruby?”

The urge to scream and tell her brother all the ways he was being rude bubbled up. “My mom thought Ruby and I had enough on our plate.” Ruby looked up at Beau with a grateful smile.

“Okay, but —”

The doorbell chimed breaking through the awkwardness. “I’ll get that,” Ruby said as she quickly stood, thankful to be pulled away from her brother’s incessant questions, though she could sense him following close behind her.

Ruby opened the door, her eyes quickly sweeping over the unfamiliar man on the other side, “Can I help you?”

The stranger’s mouth fell open in surprise as he took in Ruby’s blonde hair and  sparkling sapphire eyes. Olivia wasn’t kidding.

Ruby’s brow furrowed as the man stared unspeaking and slack-jawed. “Wolf, go get Mama.” She casually moved her hand around her hip as she heard her younger brother rush off.

“You’re a spitting image.”

“Should I know you?” She asked, her hand ready to pull her hidden dagger. He didn’t seem to be a threat, but the way he left each of her questions unanswered left her on edge and ready to act.

“Sorry, I’m just …” he brushed his shaggy chestnut locks from his face. “I wasn’t expecting …”

“Do you have a name?”

“I’m Drake … I knew your dad.”

Feedback fuels me, please like, comment reblog or send an ask. Feel free to scream, I promise I can take it.

Masterlist can be found in my bio.

@speedyoperarascalparty @liamxs-world @annekebbphotography @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @ao719 @blackwidow2721 @stopforamoment @akrenich @gardeningourmet @daniv2278 @bella-ca @gibbles82 @choiceslife @blackcoffee85 @sirbeepsalot @cheeto-choices @dcbbw @alicars @desireepow-1986 @mfackenthal @bhavf @indiacater @drakesensworld @kingliam2019 @walkerswhiskeygirl @ladyangel70 @jovialyouthmusic @edgiestwinter @rainbowsinthestorm @janezillow @sleepwalkingelite @texaskitten30 @traeumerinwitzhelden @bbrandy2002​ @jared2612 @blackcatkita @darley1101 @innerpostmentality​ @lolablackwrites​ @endlessflame​ @fullbeaumonty​ @hhiggs​ @itsalliepg​ @smalltalk88​ @littlegreenmoo​ @mynameiskaylabella​ @bobbersb @imma-winchester-addict​ @cordonianroyalty​ @loveellamae​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​ @katedrakeohd​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @super-secret-fandom-blog​ @burnsoslow​ @queenjilian​ @bebepac @malvolari-take-my-soul​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @queen-arabella-of-cordonia​

[rosesisupposes]

"Dedication has no reward." with whatever ship you think works best?

ROYALITY

Aka, this is penance for hurting all the boys recently. Prepare yourself for some Royalty Royality

Prompt Tag

word count: 1,924

pairing: Royality

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff

reader tags: @residentanchor @royally-anxious @bewarethegrammarpolice @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby  @sparkly-rainbow-salt @astral-eclipse​ @thelowlysatsuma @adorably-angsty and of course, @notveryglittery

read on ao3

Crown Prince Patton, His Royal Highness and heir to the kingdom of Solarya, was a very friendly man. He thrived on the days he went out to meet the people of the kingdom, when he rode or walked through the markets and greeted his future subjects as they went about their normal errands. The Knight-Captain of his personal guard, Sir Roman, had his hands full on those days, keeping the prince safe without cutting him off from the public. The balance worked itself out as a loose ring of guards and Roman right by Patton’s side, alert and ready to counter any threat. But being there to watch him work was always distracting. The prince was raised in luxury, never having had to do errands or work for a living. Instead of creating distance, this difference created an opening. Patton would ask fishmongers how the catch had been and listen with interest and attention as they described weather and sea patterns. He nodded sagely as clothing merchants demonstrated the difference of cheap and well-made cloth, admired the qualities of produce as farmers burst with pride, and stopped to smell and compliment the color of a bouquet of peonies from the flower sellers. Every walk or ride through town brought new interactions. The earnest interest and validation he showed were why the people of the capital city were utterly charmed by their prince.

They weren’t the only ones.

One sunny morning, as Prince Patton walked through a wide open square, a tiny form dashed in front of him. The prince almost tripped, but caught himself as the toddler crashed into a guard’s leg. The little girl looked up, eyes huge.

“Hello, little miss!” Patton said gently, kneeling to her level. “I’m Patton! What’s your name?”

“I’m Val,” she squeaked out, staring warily at the armored men around her.

“Good morning, Val! Are those flowers I see?” the prince asked.

A gap-toothed grin spread as the child held up a fistful of daisies, half-woven into the beginnings of a crown. “I’m helping Mama,” she explained.

“And I’m sure you’re doing a great job,” Patton said warmly. “Where is your mama? Is she close?”

The girl placed her flowers on her dark hair as she pointed past the circle of guards. A woman with matching hair and similar dimples hovered there anxiously. Roman, as the closest, turned and bowed.

“Greetings, madam. Is this lovely young lady your daughter?”

“Yes, I’m so sorry, she knows she’s not supposed to be running away from me.”

Patton took Val’s hand and guided her to her mother. “Not a problem, my lady. I’m glad Val ran into us.”

“Oh my goodness gracious, Prince Patton!” the woman exclaimed, dropping into a deep curtsy. “I truly apologize-“

“There’s no need, mistress,” Roman interrupted, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Prince Patton wishes only to ensure that your daughter is well and happy. His Highness could never be inconvenienced by meeting such a charming subject and her lovely mother.”

A blush spread across the flower seller’s golden cheeks as she took her daughter’s hand and led her back to her stall, dipping one more curtsy as she went.

Back at the castle, Patton flopped onto a window seat as Roman took his regular place by the door.

“Knight-Captain? Roman?” he called.

“Your Highness? How may I assist you?”

“Oh, nothing, I just- what you said at the market today.”

Roman frowned. “Did I err in any way, Your Highness? I did not mean to offend.”

“No, no offense whatsoever!” Patton said, sitting up straight. “You, you just said a really nice thing to that flower seller, Val’s mother. About me and how much I care for my people.”

Roman willed the heat in his cheeks to not show through as he replied, “Was that not my place? I apologize-“

“No, I - I was glad to hear it. You didn’t need to reassure her, but you did. And you- so many people here,” Patton featured to the castle around them, “they think I’m wasting my time when I try to spend time with the commonfolk. They tell me it’s beneath me. But you- you were smiling. You think it’s a good thing?”

Roman hesitated, but nodded. “I do, Your Royal Highness. I don’t believe there is anything wrong with a ruler knowing more about those they rule over. I think the way in which you treat the folks at market is admirable.”

Patton smiled wide. “Thank you, Sir Roman! It means a lot to hear that. But, um. If you’d like- you can just call me Patton. If we’re not around my father or his advisors, of course.”

Roman was sure his blush was showing now. “I- wouldn’t it be rather improper?”

“Ugh, you sound like my father’s Grand Vizier. ‘Consorting with commoners is improper,’ ‘Napping during council meetings is improper,’ ‘Making shadow puppets in the torchlight is improper.’ He’s no fun whatsoever,” Patton grumbled.

“Sounds like he’s a party im-pooper,” Roman said before he could stop himself. He immediately clapped a hand over his mouth, blushing a deep red. But to his surprise, the prince was staring at him with shining eyes of delight.

“Sir Roman, you make such witty jokes and you’ve been holding out on me?”

“My role is to protect you, Your Highness. Not to be chatty.”

Patton’s expression drooped. “Oh. Yes, I see. I wouldn’t want to distract you from your duty.”

“Your Highness, I- I didn’t mean that I didn’t want to tell you jokes, I just wanted you to know why I haven’t before. Even if it is improper, I would like to be your friend as well as your guard.”

The prince softened. “I would like nothing more, Roman.”

“Nor would I, Your Hi- I mean, Patton.”

Roman had already been a constant presence at his prince’s side ever since his appointment when Patton came of age, but the change in Patton’s mood was now obvious to most residents of the castle. Let his father think it was a determination just to be a good student and ruler- he knew it was from having a guard and companion as delightful as Sir Roman.

Soon, Roman had perfected the art of imperceptibly whispering in Patton’s ear during grand receptions and banquets and meetings, murmured jokes and wicked nicknames for the many tedious advisors and foreign dignitaries. Patton quickly learned to conceal his giggles, laughing on the inside alone. But Roman could tell, in tiny shifts and tapping fingers on the arms of his throne, that Patton was entertained, and felt the glow of pride all the same.

Not quite four months of their first-name-basis had passed when another morning found them in the market. It was spring, almost the spring festival, and the courtyards and squares were filled with the heady perfume of flowers. Patton walked with his ring of loose guards as he greeted vendors and merchants and shoppers. He stopped by a flower cart, admiring the colors and wreaths.

“Oh, look at the lovely contrast here, of the light blue and red together,” he said, brushing the soft petals of some hydrangeas.

“Thank you sir- oh! Your Highness!” the seller exclaimed. It was the same one they’d run into months ago, and a wriggling head underneath the tablecloth that revealed itself to be Val confirmed it.

“My lady, it is wonderful to see you and Val again,” Patton said with a smile. “I don’t believe I got your name last time we met.”

“It’s Teresa, Your Highness, sir,” she said breathlessly, hands twisting in her apron strings.

“A pleasure, Mistress Teresa. Your handiwork is stunning,” the prince said gallantly. “Is there significance to these flowers?”

“Hydrangeas are used to represent heartfelt feelings, Your Highness. And gratitude, for being understood.”

Patton smiled softly at the light blue flowers that so well matched his personal crest and the livery his guard wore. “And the roses?”

“They’re LOVE!” Val cried happily from behind the stall.

Teresa smiled and smoothed her daughter’s hair. “That’s right, sweet pea. Red roses for romantic love.”

Patton leaned forward to bury his face in the lovely scents. Roman edged closer to the stall, watchful as ever. As the prince drew back, his expression was soft as he contemplated the blooms. Roman found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the sweet smile playing across the royal’s lips. Patton’s light blue eyes suddenly met his, but the expression didn’t change.

“They match you, Roman,” Patton said.As Roman’s mind suddenly started racing with implications, he continued.  “The blue and red match your uniform.”

Roman felt an unavoidable blush rising as he nodded. It was true- he wore Patton’s personal livery and the red sash that denoted him the leader of the guard. That was surely all the prince had meant.

But that night in Patton’s chambers, the prince asked Roman to sit with him.

“Sir Roman, I feel I should apologize for the position I put you in today.”

“‘Sir Roman’? Did I do something wrong that you’re using my title again? You know you may always use just my first name,” the knight said warmly.

The prince ducked his head. “No, you haven’t done a thing wrong. I fear that I have, though. Earlier, in the market - I didn’t intend to embarrass you, or put you on the spot. I know that as your liege, I have an obligation to not make your service uncomfortable in any way, and I failed in that. I hope you can forgive me.”

Roman stared at his prince, confused. “Patton, in what way have you failed? I’ve never been uncomfortable around you - indeed, these past months have been some of the most enjoyable since I was but a boy on my mother’s farm.” He felt the lightest flush spreading over his cheeks as he added, “I find myself often forgetting that you are my liege rather than a friend of whom I am excessively fond.”

Patton looked up into Roman’s warm brown eyes. “I… feel the same way, Roman. I thought, today, with the flowers, that I was being too obvious. Heartfelt feelings of gratitude, and… love.”

Roman felt his breath catch in his chest. “You… you love me, too? I wasn’t just imagining it?”

Patton nodded, fully blushing now. “You feel the same way?”

“I hardly dared dream that it could ever be requited, dearest Patton,” Roman said, taking the prince’s hand in his. “Your kindness towards your people, your humility despite your position, the light in your eyes when you’re able to make someone smile… how could I not fall utterly and entirely in love?”

After a moment of hesitation, Patton lifted their entwined hands to kiss Roman’s. “And you, sweet knight, who cares for the soldiers in your command as you would yourself, who does his best to serve justly and well, who sees me as a man, not just a royal - is it any wonder I’ve become infatuated with you?”

Roman cupped Patton’s face, and slowly leaned in, their lips meeting in a chaste kiss that transformed them both into red-faced balls of giggles. Patton rested his head on his knight’s shoulder, a smile on his face.

“Are you sure you don’t get tired of me, my love? Spending every waking hour at my side?”

Roman kissed the top of Patton’s curly-blonde head. “Never, my sunshine. When my mission is to ensure no harm comes to you, there is no limit to how many hours I will gladly spend on guard. Dedication has no reward. Nor does it need one, not when it means I get to spend time with you.”

[cruxcrescent]

Lone Camellia.

“Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then, it can never be your weakness.” – George R.R. Martin

It was a misty morning that first brought her to him.

He was treading the lands as he always did, moving as if a ghost through the forests that he had called home then. She approached him from the fog that wove between the trees, though he had caught her scent long before she appeared. Witless and lanced through with the sweat of determination, the distinct twinge of someone looking for something. It made his nose wrinkle in disdain. 

When her verdant eyes settled on him, he had stopped while standing aloft the roots of a great tree. It provided the height from which he towered before her, not that he wasn’t already so tall. Yet, she had more height than he had expected for one so meager in figure. She’d dropped to her knees in deference to the Great Dog Prince, reducing herself from the gazelle-like stature she held.

“You are Lord Sesshoumaru, are you not?” she’d said simply, swallowing hard against her innate fear. Indeed, he conceded she was brave to approach him; he was sure her instincts were screaming out against her choice.

He didn’t answer her right away, golden eyes slanted downwards to appraise her through the morning mist, and darkness of the forest. She didn’t move, didn’t dare to raise her face to him again after she had taken her vulnerable position.

“What do you want with me?” he said curtly. 

“Please, o Lord of the Western Lands. I’ve sought you to train me,” she proclaimed, finally lifting her head to beseech him properly. He could now clearly see the green markings that stood shockingly vibrant against her tan skin. He’d already known what she was when her scent met him, but the gentle, light freckles that sprinkled their way over her shoulders and face identified her as a deer youkai. Strange that one should be this far in the mountains, he mused idly.

“What for and why should I?” 

She swallowed again. 

“My family has been slain by humans, my lord. Not one is left of them but me, and I wish to be powerful, like you,” she stopped to let herself grimace as if struck by the memory. “Please, I do not wish to die. I am tired of being weak.”

A low huff.

“That is none of my concern.” 

With that he’d sprung off the roots of the tree, sailing over her folded figure to land behind her. His landing barely shifted the moss beneath his feet. She’d frozen, as her kind were wont to do, and now did not turn to face him again. He’d started walking away, determined to move on in his patrol, when a vine caught his foot. That vine had not been there before, he’d thought, as he sliced it away without preamble. More of them started to manifest from the same spot to cling like the worried hands of children to his boot as if their kin had not just been cut down in its prime but seconds ago. 

He growled his disapproval as he turned to glower at the culprit, knowing well who was daring to show such disregard for their own life. The deer appeared more spirited now as her youki thrummed from her hands that were planted firmly to the ground in front of her, pulsing towards him. Defiance colored her expression. 

“I apologize, my lord,” she said as her energy waned off into the passive force it had been previously. “Please forgive my insolence, but I wish nothing more than to become strong! I know I have not fangs or claws – but there must be some way,” she grew quieter as she spoke, voice breaking as a shudder ran through her. Yes, it was as he’d thought earlier. Her instincts were wisely rebelling against her very unwise decisions. He continued to glare out of the side of his eyes at her. To his surprise, she spoke again as he assessed his next move.

“Are you not the protector of these lands? My lord, will you truly allow these humans to get away with the slaughter of other demons when our numbers dwindle so?” 

It was then that whatever small, fragile pity he had for her had worn out. He stalked forward to grab her by the collar of her furisode, anger flashing in his amber gaze. Hauling her up to face him, he dug his claws in the silk fabric of her clothing. Poison mingled at his claw tips, singeing the delicate material where it touched. The hind flinched away from his eyes, but not his grip. 

“Your clear lack of self-preservation proves that you serve no use to me,” he rumbled low in his throat before letting her go harshly. She caught herself, refusing to stumble before him it seemed. “The plight of lesser demons does not concern me. Do not question my honor as such.”

He turned on his heels away from her. He had grown tired of this meeting and its sole occupant. With long strides, he began back into the forest, hoping to leave the deer behind this time.

As he walked along, he scowled to himself. He turned over her words a few times in his mind, marveling on it like a small pebble. Her comment had rankled him. He was indeed the guardian of the Western Lands as his father had been before him, however, the times had changed. Humans encroached, and more and more their distaste of demons grew palpable. Their gunpowder burned his nose, their settlements stole his territory, their noisiness irritated his hearing. He had resigned himself to the fact that the burden of his duties that his father had passed to him had transformed itself into another beast that dug its claws deeper and deeper into his back as the decades passed.

He did not need reminding by a lowly doe of that which he was well aware.

He continued deeper into the trees, but he was aware he was being followed. Low anger simmered beneath the surface of his stoic appearance. The hind was light on her feet, well adapted to masking her youki, and was keeping downwind of him and his nose, but she could not escape his notice. At this point, he was determined to ignore her. She would falter eventually. All those that were not him always did with time.

However, he, for one of the rare few times in his life, had been mistaken.

The hind tracked him for days beyond their meeting. Days turned into weeks, then into months. She was intelligent enough to keep a fair amount of distance between them, but she dogged him as he patrolled what remained of his lands. She settled when he took up a temporary den, watched from on high when he hunted with hard, glassy eyes. He, in turn, was stubborn enough to pay her no heed. If she put this much effort into training instead of following him, she might have what she wished for, he mentally grumbled. The nights he could sense her slumbering aura in the surrounding wood, he contemplated slitting her throat in her sleep. 

A dusty corner of the dog’s mind offered him a blithe metaphor of the hunter becoming the hunted, that their roles were reversed in this game. It was not true, of course, and he could have, at any point, stopped her foolish mission. Yet, he allowed it. 

After all, it was not his time, nor his endurance being wasted.

When it had been fourteen turns of the moon’s cycle, he finally halted in the middle of his patrol. It was a quiet summer night, only cricket song broke the tense silence that it held. A breeze worried the long pampas grass in the field he’d chosen to at last confront his uninvited follower. Sesshoumaru drew in a soft breath of her scent, holding it before letting it go silently. He could hear the doe coming up behind him. She took no measures to conceal her presence this time. Even she seemed to understand that he was at the end of his very long patience with her. 

“Doe,” he said without turning to face her. The wind carried the bass of his voice along with it, causing her to stop but a scant few meters away from where he stood. “What do you call yourself?”

“Tsubaki. I am Tsubaki.” He could not see her, but he was certain the weariness was beginning to make itself noticeable. Her voice was hoarse with disuse but stronger than he thought it would be. The steady wind ruffled the fur that clung to his shoulder. A lengthy pause proceeded his next thoughts.

“Tsubaki, you have told me you possess neither fangs or claws,” he addressed her. He caught the shift of her furisode against itself as she adjusted her stance. 

“Yet, do you not possess hooves, nor antlers?” 

“I do, my lord.” Her breathing grew errant. She was anticipating a fight, or perhaps something more.

“If you truly grieve enough for what you have lost that you desire power, I suggest you sharpen them instead.”

The night grew still around them, silence resuming its oppressive pall that was broken only by soft chirps of the insects hidden amongst the grass. At the edge of his hearing, the doe’s pounding heart settled like the previous breeze had died away. He allowed his eyes to close for a brief moment.

“Continue to give chase, and I shall kill you,” he turned his head to pin her with amber hues. Green stared back at them, and the Moonlit Prince noted that a different gleam took the place of the one he had seen when they’d first encountered each other; this one he could not place. His gaze returned forward. 

He walked on.

This time, she didn’t follow.

[hrhduchessoflancaster]

Chapter Eighty-Nine: The Fox Protocol - Part Two

A/N: Thank you so much for your comments! xx Bea

__________________________________________________________

That was it. The day Harry and Elle’s lives were about to change. Effective immediately. Inside Buckingham Palace, The Privy Council, the Prime Minister, Crown Ministers and Secretaries of State had gathered to sign the document that would change everything.

“ You Royal Highness, good morning. If you could follow me, please. This way.”, said one of the members of Her Majesty’s personal staff. Harry and Elle were lead to an enormous office, a place she had never seen or been before. Everyone was already there, except for the Queen. Elle carefully watched as her husband looked around the room and made eye contact with his father and brother. That was the first time he was seeing them after the Christening. Charles and William had guilty stricken faces. William took a few steps forward but Harry walked past him and his father before he could say anything, muttering a brief, polite yet cold hello. Sighing, Elle shook her head.

“ Give him time and space. He needs to heal.”, she whispered to them as she followed Harry into the other side of the room, where he took a seat beside the Prime Minister, after briefly acknowledging his presence.

“ Mr. Simmons.”, said Elle greeting the Prime Minister with a handshake.

“ Your Royal Highness.”, he replied, quickly bowing his head as he shook her hand. “ Ever since April I have not yet had the pleasure of congratulating you and His Royal Highness in person for the birth of your child. Well… congratulations, and may he grow up in joy and love.”, he continued.

“ Thank you, Mr. Simmons. I… we appreciate your kind words.”, she said with a small smile.

“ Who know, maybe one day he’ll be king.”, the ministers said chuckling. Elle forced a smile a carelessly nodded her head. Taking a seat beside Harry, she took his hand in hers and gently rub small circles in the back of it. “It’s gonna be okay, darling… I’m here. We’ll get through this.”, she whispered to him, feeling his fingers squeeze hers, while he kept his eyes looking forward, staring at the wall.

“ Her Majesty, the Queen! His Royal Highness, the Duke of Edinburgh!”, exclaimed one the staff members as soon as the doors were opened. With the Queen and Prince Philip now present, what was about to happen became even more real and scary. The old monarch took a seat at the table placed in the far end of the room, all eyes on her. The Prime Minister then stood up and walked beside her, bowing his hand then proceeding to take a piece of paper into his hands.

“ Your Majesty, Your Royal Highnesses, Your Excellencies, Officers, Ladies and Gentlemen. It is

Her Majesty’s wish, given the proper consideration and voted by the House of Commons, the House of Lords and the agreed upon by Royal Assent, whereas by instrument of abdication based on the Declaration of Abdication Act of 1936, that on this day, the fifteenth of August of this present year, that His Royal Highness, Prince William Arthur Philip Louis, Duke of Cambridge

is irrevocably determined to renounce the Throne for Himself and His descendants, and has for that purpose, appealed to Her Majesty to execute the Instrument of Abdication set out in the Schedule to this Act, and has signified his desire that effect thereto should be given immediately.”, said the Prime Minister.

All eyes glanced to William and then to Harry, who had also looked at his brother. William sighed, but kept his head high. Kate held his hand and Charles patted him on the back, comfortingly as Mr. Simmons kept on reading the Act they were about to sign. William and the family would retain their titles and styles but would no longer be a part of the succession. As soon as he was done, William walked to the table, bowed his head to the Queen and took the Prime Minister’s place, who handed him a piece of paper. Breathing deeply, he looked around the room and locked eyes with Harry for a brief second before beginning his speech, which was being recorded by the Press Secretary and her staff.

“ I, William Arthur Philip Louis, Prince of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Duke of Cambridge, Earl of Strathearn, Baron Carrickfergus, do hereby declare my irrevocable determination to renounce the throne for myself and for my descendants, and my desire that effect should be given to this instrument for abdication immediately. In token whereof I have hereunto set my hand this fifteenth day of August, two thousand and seventeen, in the presence of the witnesses whose signatures are subscribed.”, said William. He then proceed to pass the document to the Queen who signed it, followed by himself, Prince Charles and finally, Harry.

“ Whereas by an Instrument of Abdication dated the fifteenth day of August, His Royal Highness Prince William Arthur Philip Louis, Duke of Cambridge did declare his wish to renounce the throne for himself and his descendants, the said Instrument of Abdication has, henceforth, taken effect.”, said the Prime Minister.

“ It is at Her Majesty will and the pleasure of this government that I request Her Majesty, His Royal Highnesses, the member of Her Majesty’s Honourable Privy Council, others, and members of Parliament that, having met here at Buckingham Palace on this day, subscribe this Act by the affirmation required by law and proclaim that His Royal Highness, Prince Henry Charles Albert David, Duke of Sussex, be confirmed as third in line to the throne, certifying him and his descendants their right under the Act of Settlement 1701 and the Succession to the Crown Act 2013.”, continued the Prime Minister. With that said, one by one, the people gathered in the room began sighing the document, including Camilla, Kate and Elle.

As soon as the document was signed, Harry said his hasty goodbyes to his family, as amicable as he could. Elle followed in being but being held up by William, Kate, Charles and Camilla.

“ Elle please… how is he?”, William asked.

“ How do you think he is, Will?”, asked Elle. “ He’s a wreck. He’s lost and, frankly, exhausted. He’s never thought he’d be in this situation. It’s a lot to process. He’s getting there but it will take time… and some distance from all of you.”, she continued.

“ I understand. I just hope he can forgive me… us… for all of this.”, said William.

“ I can’t promise any of you that, but at least he’s talking to you. And I consider that a good sign.”, said Elle. They tried to keep her longer but she cut them all short.

“ I’m sorry but I need to go. My husband is waiting for me.”, said Elle with an apologetic smiled. They nodded their heads, understandingly. She rushed after Harry, who was patiently waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.

“ I’m sorry. I was held up.”, she said, placing a kiss on his cheek. He shook his head and gave her a small smile. She sighed and turned his body towards her, making him face her. Gently, Elle pulled his head by the neck and rested their foreheads together.

“ We can do this.”, she whispered to him. “ Come on, say it back, my love. I need to hear you say it, okay? We are a team. We’ve always been. We’ve sworn it in front of the world to be one. We’ve been through so much already. What’s one more challenge? We can and will overcome this. I have faith in you… in us. Come on, love… say we can do this…”, Elle told him.

“ We can do this.”, he replied sighing, to which Elle smiled. Harry gave her another small smiled before pecking her lips and lacing their fingers together. “ I said to you we could and I stand by it. It’s just… seeing everyone and signing that document made it all so… real. It hit me like a ton a bricks.”, he continued.

“ I know, darling. I felt it too.”, said Elle, running a comforting hand on his arm. “ But it’s just the initial shock of it all. We’ll be okay.”, she continue, giving him a smile. Her husband nodded his head and placed a kiss on her temple.

“ Come on… let’s go home and see our son.”, said Harry, now giving her a genuine smile.

************

Once William’s decision became public and the broadcast with his speech made it to the press, all hell broke loose. Harry and Elle had been working with their secretaries and the press to release their short statement about the changes being made into the succession. It was publish in the Court Circular as well as their social media accounts.

As many of you are aware, my brother, the Duke of Cambridge has abdicated his claims to the throne for himself and his heirs in order to pursue a more private life. My wife and I wholeheartedly support his decision and wish him the best of luck in the coming months as he and his family adjust into their new lives. With that being said, Eleanor and I are honoured and thankful for all your support as we too, embark in a new journey with new roles.

Soon after, Harry and Elle sat down with their trio of secretaries to prepare for the interview with Alastair Bruce, which would be broadcast on tv on the following day.

“ His questions will be simple. He’ll ask a little about your lives, some about Prince Arthur and of course, about your reactions to he Duke of Cambridge’s abdication.”, said Lisa and the couple nodded their heads. The couple had practised a few answers to potential question so it would look a bit more natural for them whenever they spoke on the subject. Dressed in a simple white button down shirt and a blue pencil skirt, Elle waited beside Harry at the entrance of apartment 1 for Alastair Bruce to arrive.

“ Why does this feel like a trap?”, Harry said under his breath as the SUV began to park near the the entrance of their home.

“ Because we’re talking to a journalist about a very private matter.”, whispered Elle while smiling. “ We have to do this, thought. Come, let’s greet our guest.”, she finished as they walked towards the man who had just stepped out of the car.

“ Alastair!”, exclaimed Harry smiling, extending his hand towards the man.

“ Your Royal Highnesses. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”, he replied grinning, bowing his head while he shook their hands.

“ The pleasure is ours. Would you like to come in?”, said Elle, being the perfect hostess. The man nodded his head and soon, they we followed into their home by the journalist and a small group of camera crew. As the equipment was being set in their living room, the couple Mr. Bruce a small tour of the ground floor.

“ Ahh this is a lovely picture.”, commented the journalist, pointing to a candid picture of their wedding party.

“ Oh it’s one of my favourites.”, said Harry smiling. When all was set up, Elle and Harry sat side by side in the sofa of their living room, the camera crew ready to film them.

“ I don’t want this to be tiresome or polemic in any way. So we’ll just get started on some easy questions about yourselves and your new lives and then talk briefly about your new roles. Is that alright?”, asked Alastair. Harry and Elle looked at each other, lacing their fingers together and nodded their heads, smiling.

“ Yes, yes it is.”, replied Elle.

“ Wonderful! Let’s begin then.”, said Alastair. Taking a deep breath, the couple watched as the crew counted down for the interview to begin

" First of all I'd like to congratulate you both on the birth of your child, Prince Arthur and just before your first wedding anniversary!”, said Alastair. The couple looked at each other and smiled.

“ Thank you.", they replied in unison.

“ How does it feel to be a parent?”, he asked them both. Harry eyed Elle and she chuckled.

“ Well… it’s a handful, a one would expect it to be. A lot of sleepless nights and wake up calls. But also so rewarding. Arthur is such a good baby. Barely ever fusses, very easy to go to sleep…also very curious about his surroundings.”, said Elle.

“ Oh he definitely got that from his mother!”, said Harry smiling. “ He’s got that look when he’s thinking about something and my wife does the same thing.”, he continued making Alastair and Elle chuckle.

“ Inquisitive child, then?”, asked the journalist.

“ Oh absolutely!”, replied Elle.

“ And how has it been, Eleanor, to step into such big roles, that of a member of the Royal Family and a mother?”, he asked her.

“ It’s been somewhat natural, I feel. I have a great support team… and that, of course, includes my wonderful husband.”, replied Elle, taking Harry’s hand into hers.

“ And I understand you still work with your historical research?”, Alastair asked.

“ I do indeed. I’ve been neglecting it, I confess, for the last couple of months as we had a newborn to take care of... but I’ll soon resume my work, both as a historian a patroness.

“ That’s wonderful to hear.”, said Alastair. “ Now, for a more serious question. We’ve recently learned about the Duke of Cambridge’s abdication and removal from the line of succession. How that come to be? Can you tell us anything on the matter?, he asked them. Elle squeezed Harry’s hand gently and gave him a small, encouraging smile.

“ It was unexpected to all of us… specially to my wife and I. We have never imagined we’d be in this position. But it’s been a long process in which William has pondered over the matter, talked to the family, discussed it closely with Her Majesty and, in the end, we understood his reasons and supported him, the best way we could.”, Harry replied.

“ I see… so it’s not a rash decision?”, asked Alastair.

“ Not at all. My brother and Catherine said they’ve been thinking about it from some time and finally, it came to be.”, replied Harry.

“ And how are you both viewing your new responsibilities within the family and also, to the public?”, asked Alastair.

“ It’s taking some getting used to, but our team is doing a fantastic job helping us in this process, as are our families.”, replied Harry.

“ Exactly. And we both feel very privileged and honoured to be able to step in William and Catherine’s shoes. We hope to do what we can to promote Britain, the charities we support and serve Her Majesty at the best of our abilities.”, said Elle.

“ Well then, thank you both very much for having me.”, said Alastair.

“ The pleasure was ours.”, replied Harry. As soon as he did, the director call cut and the cameras were turned off.

“ That was easier than I’d expected.”, said Elle sighing.

“ You tell me…”, replied Harry sighing as well. They smiled as they looked to each other, sinking in the sofa.

“ Thank you, Your Royal Highnesses, for the interview. I think it was very good.”, said Alastair, shaking their hands. Just as they were about to show him to the door, Lisa came into the room.

“ I’m so sorry to interrupt, ma’am, but Prince Arthur is awake.”, said Lisa. Elle sighed.

“ I’m sorry…he must be fussy and hungry.”, said Elle apologising.

“ Oh don’t apologise ma’am. Children should come first.”, said Alastair smiling kindly at her.

“ Well, it was a pleasure meeting you Alastair.”, she said, shaking his hand. “ Now, of you excuse me, I must feed my little hungry cub.”, said Elle and the men chuckled. Harry kept looking at her until she left the room, which didn’t go unnoticed by Alastair. As he guided the journalist and his crew to the door, the man said:

“ If you don mind me saying it, sir, you and the Duchess make an excellent couple.”.

“ We do, don’t we?”, said Harry, grinning.

“ A rare occurrence for normal people. For royals, even harder to happen.”, said Alastair.

“ It’s true. We’re both very lucky to have each other. And I’m grateful for that, every single day.”, said Harry, as they stopped close to his car.

“ Thank you again, sir. It’s been a pleasure.”, said Alastair.

“ Pleasure was mine.”, he replied, waving goodbye. The following evening, their short interview would be broadcast around the world and the next step towards their new roles would begin.

************

Two Months Later

William and Catherine had officially moved out of Kensington Palace and retired to Amner Hall in Norfolk while his job with the RAF’s Search and Rescue force in Wales was approved. For the time being, they were dedicating their lives to their charities and raising George and Charlotte. As for Elle and Harry, they’ve been very busy. Their number of engagement had doubled as they now represented the Queen in more capacities than before. Arthur had also grown, as was starting to slowly form words. Much to his parents shame, his first word had indeed be Lan, as in Lancelot, their dog. Doctor Yates had been following up with Arthur’s first months of life but Harry and Elle would soon have to find a proper paediatrician to take him to. Thankfully, everything was normal with their son.

They spend most of their time at Kensington but often travelled to Sussex to enjoy the peace and quiet their country home could offer. They had also visited Elle’s family home in Wiltshire a few times as they had traveled to Highgrove for the weekend. Charles had taken up the task to introduce Arthur to every farm animal in the property, as well as some of his favourite plants. The infant had been entranced by all the beautiful colours and sounds. Now that he was older, Harry and Elle decided to take him to Althorp. They didn’t have the opportunity to go there for the 20th anniversary of Diana’s death and now seemed like a good opportunity to do that.

The last time Elle came to Northamptonshire it was just before Harry proposed to her. at that time they had been dating for a year and knew they’d soon be getting married. She just didn’t know her now husband would actually pop the question a few days later. As they entered the gates that led to Althorp House, Elle was once again taken back by the grandeur of the classical elements, much like she had before. This time, however, the whole family anticipated their arrival with great joy and expectations, excited to meet the newest addition to the clan. Charles Spencer grinned as Harry exited the car, with you following suit, reaching for the carseat on the back to take Arthur in your arms.

“ Harry, my boy! Welcome back!”, he said, hugging his nephew. “ Eleanor! So good to see you!”, he continued, greeting her with a kiss on each cheek. Then he looked down at the little boy bundled up in her arms.

“ Ahhh and this must be little Arthur.”, he said, cooing the baby by softly tickling his belly. The boy giggled and gave his granduncle a toothless grin, which made the older man smile.

“ Oh I like this little fella already.”, said Charles, making everyone smile and chuckle. “Come, let’s get inside.”, he said, guiding them in.

One by one, all of Harry's cousins greeted the couple and soon Arthur was being passed around everybody’s lap. Charlotte, who was now 5 eyed the infant with curiosity, and the older children made silly faces in an effort to make him laugh.

“ So, how’s parenthood been treating you both?”, asked Charles.

“ It’s been mostly good. A few little bumps along the road, but Arthur is such a sweet, even tempered child.”, said Elle.

“ It’s true… And I just can’t seem to stop taking pictures of him, wanting to capture every single moment. He’s grown so much in the past months. Every day is a new discovery. For him and for us.”, said Harry.

“ That’s very true. Being a parent is difficult but so rewarding. And it gets different every single time you have a child. You’ll understand it better when you have baby number 2.”, said Charles smirking, making the couple chuckle.

“ Arthur is not even a year old. Slow down there, Charles.”, said Elle, smiling.

The family gathered for lunch that afternoon in the open, at the spacious garden. It was a particular pleasant day for Autumn and Elle laid down a mat on the grass so Arthur could have some space to play and enjoy a bit of freedom while they ate. As soon as everyone was finished with their food, games and conversation began Elle and Harry excused themselves. The baby, who was beginning to fall asleep, was put on a stroller and they started walking down the garden, towards the familiar path, surrounded by oak trees. Then they reached the Greek-like temple, at the edge of the lake where roses and water lilies adorned the edge and the water. Taking Arthur form his stroller and into her arms, Elle stepped into the rowing boat, with Harry’s help and together they rowed towards Diana’s resting place. As they reached her grave, Harry smiled, putting his hand on the base of the urn.

“ Hi mum. It’s been a while…”, he said and Elle noticed the emotion in his voice. “ So much has happened since the last time we spoke here.”, he continued.

“ Elle and I got married. It was such a beautiful service. I’m sure you’ve seen it all, from where you are. But at the time, I wished so much that you could be there, beside me… beside us.”, Harry said, tear creeping in the corner of his eyes.

“ We also have a new addition to the family. You have another grandson.”, he said, smiling down at the sleeping infant in his wife’s arms. “ Our second child. Our first, as you know, has been living with you and although we may never meet him or her, we know you are taking care of our baby and will look after our precious angel, just like we know you’re watching over Arthur.”, Harry said, sniffing as the tear started falling down his cheeks. Elle watched as her husband kept on going, telling his mother everything that had happened in the past year or so and could feel her own eyes tearing up.

“… we’ve been through a lot, mama, but I’m starting to feel more confident about what expects us in the future.”, said Harry, putting his arm around Elle’s waist. She smiled at him and pecked his lips, slowly reclining her head on his shoulder, just as the first rays of sunset started filling the sky.

[eirianerisdar]

His Father’s Back

Summary: All his life, Soren only ever wanted one thing. Only his father could give it to him. And yet - Viren did not.

A quick fanfic since I finished season 2 of The Dragon Prince today! I’m glad to spend a couple minutes on this since Waiting in the Quiet, my other tdp fanfic, has longer chapters and will take a little longer to update in my hectic schedule.

The lower half of this references season 2 so that part is under a read more.

>His first memory was of his father’s back.

For the most part, the memory was a blurred, vague thing in the depths of Soren’s mind; the flash of gold-black tunics flapping behind his chubby knees and his new wood-carved sword in his hand, the raw-throated, echoing yell of his childhood battle-cry.

He must have been - what, four? Claudia had been walking properly for a while by then but just growing sure-footed enough to run in earnest, so that must have been about right.

Claudia.

Yes, that was right - Soren’s first memory was not only of his father’s back. It was of his father’s back and Claudia.

But no, no. That wasn’t good enough of an explanation.

It was -

-Soren remembered the grain of the small wooden hilt under his fingers and the praise of his first sword-master ringing in his ears, and he had run as fast as his little feet in their new training boots could, up to his parents’ tower to show his father what he had learnt.

It was a starburst of golden light, the sword - how every word from the sword-master seemed to flow down to Soren’s fingers, and the rough wooden blade clasped in his chubby fingers obeyed him.

But when he hurled his tiny body against the heavy wood door of his father’s study, hollering at the the top of his lungs for his father to come see - he saw instead his father’s sable-coated form sat on the low chair by the fire, back towards the door, with a small, black-skirted form in his lap - Claudia.

From where Soren skidded to a stop on the carpet, he could only see the edge of her smock and one of her stubby pigtails - but that was not what halted him in his tracks.

It was the glow of violet flame flickering from her fingers.

And Soren’s father, with the sharpness of his silver-lined coat cut in sharp silhouette by the violet-red flames of the hearth and his daughter’s magic, bent his head and laughed.

It was a low, delighted thing - one of fatherly pride.

And Soren couldn’t-

He couldn’t remember, in this memory of his young, four-year-old mind, when his father had ever laughed so for him.

But he remembered what he did next.

He had dropped his precious training sword onto the carpet - the carpet with the insignia of the uneven towers of Katolis - and stepped forward to share in the wonder and pride of his sister’s talent.

Soren had a brilliant little sister.

And when he picked up his sword again the uneven towers of Katolis had stared back at him, like he and Claudia standing side-by-side, her hand in his and wide smiles on their faces; but it was not until he was much older that he realised which tower he truly was.

>In a way, that memory was a beginning, and an ending.

Soren took to the way of the sword like a - what was that term, a fish to water? No, no, that sounded awfully plain. He took to the way of the sword like a banther to the prowl. Yes. That was better.

And so while he spent hour after hour, day after day, week after week and month after month until time bled into years on the training fields with a sword in his hand, Claudia took to their father’s study and the secrets there.

Soren didn’t resent it. He was good at the sword.

And Claudia was good at dark magic.

By the time Soren was eight years old, their roles had been so firmly established that he did not realise the implications until dinner one evening, when Soren pushed away his fourth helping of jelly-tarts and was struck by a rare moment of astute observation (he would be the first to admit he wasn’t much of an astute, or observation-y, person).

Claudia spoke with their father in speech Soren couldn’t understand, sometimes. Not a different language per se - but a way of connecting to the world and seeing it through purple-veiled eyes and whispered spells. Soren could speak with his father all he liked, but their conversations always held a somewhat similar quality - after all, there were only so many variations of What did you do today, Son? and Sword-training again, Dad. I did so-and-so formation perfectly.

Viren would nod, not unkindly, but without any true interest.

But if Soren were to ask What did you and Claudia do today, suddenly a light would spark in his father’s eyes, and he would start speaking of enchantments and experiments beyond Soren’s comprehension, and Claudia would chew too fast on her next mouthful just so she could join in their father’s words-

It was better, at least, when their mother was still there. Soren would turn to her and she would have another jelly-tart ready for him, and a smile.

She didn’t understand his love for the sword and for battle, either. But she listened.

Then came the time when Soren and Claudia had lain awake in their rooms too often in the past year listening to their parents’ arguments, and the day came when he was brought in after his morning training to find his family together in the main room of their quarters.

Soren remembers details about that meeting to this day - small things like the hard set of his father’s shoulders as he stared into the fire and the careful distance his mother put between them as she turned away from her husband and told Soren and Claudia that their world, as they knew it, was ending.

No, she hadn’t said that. Not exactly.

But she might as well have.

And then Viren had turned and looked down at his children, his back straight and the gleam of his sceptre at his side, and told them they would have to choose.

Claudia’s green eyes - so wide, so hungry for knowledge and so precious that Soren already knew by then that he would die ten times over to protect her - had started to grow damp.

And Soren, looking between his the harshness of Viren’s jaw and the grieving determination in his mother’s eyes and the catastrophic flood that was about to well up over the dam of his sister’s eyelids, chose.

He chose what he wanted most in he world.

His father’s love.

His mother had looked at his father, then - a look of understanding, more put-together and calm than any Soren had seen between his parents for a long while.

Claudia should stay with Soren and their father, his mother had said. Claudia needed her brother and he needed her.

Then their mother packed her bags, and was gone the next morning.

Soren had woken, gone to the kitchens, and eaten the largest breakfast he could; porridge and sweet tarts and eggs and bacon and sausages until his belly was tight under his leather training armour.

And then when he walked onto the training fields and turned his sword into woven lightning and his footwork to wind.

His swordmaster was all praise.

Soren looked up, chest heaving, sweat dripping off his chin, and saw a flash of black and purple in a tower window.

Once he might have raced up the stairs to that tower to show his father his new accomplishment.

He did not, now.

>Soren didn’t want to do it.

Callum might have been a clown with a blade and Ezran a few too many years younger for Soren to find many shared interests, but they were the princes and had been counted in Soren’s circle of friends for as long as anyone could remember.

Some part of him shivered as he recalled at the vows he had taken as one of the youngest members of the Crownguard: the vow to protect the crown of Katolis and its heirs to his dying breath.

So why-

Why would his father order him to kill the princes?

Soren knew that his father’s intellect was unparalleled across the five kingdoms. There was not a moment that he was not proud to say My father is Lord Viren; in fact, he looked forward to the day when he could be equally proud to say My sister is Lady Claudia.

It was his father.

His father must have a reason.

No matter the sick churning in Soren’s gut as Ezran’s laughter faded down the line or the heaviness in his chest, he would do it.

Maybe if he did, his father would finally look him in the eye and tell him he was proud of him.

I’m proud of you, Soren.

Oh, how he longed to-

The dragon.

The crack of the boulder meeting his neck was louder than anything Soren had ever heard.

He couldn’t breathe.

And then he discovered he could, but then he couldn’t- couldn’t move.

He screamed for Claudia.

He screamed, because he had seen this happen before, to soldiers thrown from horses and struck with a fated blow on the battlefield, and he knew that only magic would save him.

And later, laying on the hospital bed with his head in a brace and his limbs nerveless and not there, he found himself putting words together as he never had before. It was not often that he found himself staying still for a long enough period to truly think. And now that is all he could do.

So he did.

He was...glad. He was glad that he couldn’t move, even if it meant never feeling the sing of steel under his fingertips again.

Because he had done all he could for his dad’s mission, and now he couldn’t do any more.

The princes were safe.

He had fulfilled his vows as a Crownguard.

Heat rose in this throat, threatened to wring tears of his eyes, and Soren squeezed them shut and sought words.

How many syllables were there in a haiku?

Dragon smash boy

Say the good words now

They light the hearts of other people.

Hmm. Not bad. Perhaps...perhaps there was a career to be had in poetry.

All the same, it would probably be best to run it by Claudia first.

>Claudia didn’t like it.

Soren couldn’t turn his head to properly watch the doctors dragging her out through the smashed glass and mess she had made, but he could hear her well enough:

“He can’t be like this. He can’t even count syllables!” Door, slamming closed.

Then silence.

Ah well, baby steps.

Soren closed his eyes. How many syllables in a haiku? Five, wasn’t it, seven, then five again?

And then suddenly-

Welcome back, my son.

I’m so proud of what you’ve done.

I love you, Soren.

An impossibility.

Soren’s cheeks and temples grew wet below his closed eyes, but there was nobody there to dry them for him.

And he would never be able to do so himself again.

>But he had a sister.

A brilliant, brilliant sister.

When her magic lanced from her fingertips and pierced his chest, Soren recalled, in the midst of the screaming and the flame and the lightning, something important.

His father had forgotten his birthday once - Soren’s birthday was something oft-overlooked due to its proximity to King Harrow’s, and one year Viren had forgotten his son’s birthday entirely.

But when Soren had sat at dinner that night, morosely stuffing himself (Viren had been busy with an experiment and did not present himself for dinner) Claudia had come up to him and wrapped her arms around him.

And Soren had been comforted.

Then his eyes opened and the purple starburst of magic faded and he felt every single broken bone and bloody scratch all at once, and Soren knew, over his joy-filled blabbering and flailing, that he loved his sister so much and he needed to thank her-

He looked at her.

And stopped.

“Clauds? Are...you okay?”

She raised her head, black eyes bleeding into their normal green; but they were framed on one side by a strip of white in her hair that had not been there before.

Her breath came  like gusts in a storm. “You’re going to be better now. That’s all that matters.”

And Soren, looking at her, knew it meant she loved him as much as he loved her.

His baby sister.

>They took the steps down carefully, one at a time.

Soren had spent most of the time revelling in the return of movement to his limbs and not thinking about their father at all, but when Claudia showed him the dragon horn it sparked that goofy streak in him again.

Words came to him of their own volition.

“Failed missions, mad dad,” he mused.

“But dragon horn means magic.

Maybe dad not mad?”

Claudia laughed so hard in her delight that she knocked him over.

Soren smiled as she helped him up, and pushed the one other haiku he had thought up but never said out of his mind.

He loved his baby sister. That was enough.

End

Thanks for reading, everyone! I’ll cross-post this to FFN, and if anyone wants to read more dragon prince fanfic you can look at my masterlist! I’m not sure how tumblr treats links right now so I’ll put links to my masterlist and other tdp fic in a reply below.

I just love what the writers did with Soren and Claudia this season. We get to see a reflection of Viren and his faults, too, which just deepens the complexity of their family relationships.

For my Waiting in the Quiet followers, I’ll see about a snippet with Gren and Amaya on Gren’s birthday if I can find a break from studying sometime in the next couple of days.

[storiesofwildfire]

It’s Tough to Be a God

          { plotted starter for @likesbeingbad }

♔—- Everything had been painstakingly meticulous. From the very beginning, Loki knew what they set out to do would not be an easy task to accomplish, but one that needed to be done. After the years of abuse by the hands of their father, that same cruelty lashed out across Loki’s children tenfold. Any good mother would have given up everything to protect them, it just took Loki a great deal of patience, time, and energy to plan, form alliances with those they trusted, slip away from Odin, rescue their children from their individual prisons, and disappear off every foreseeable path.

Loki managed to hide from Odin numerous times in the past, but it had always been weeks, maybe a few months, or a year or two if really pressing boundaries, but to disappear? Seemingly forever? That proved to be a more difficult feat, but one Loki knew they had to excel at.

They hadn’t managed it alone, of course. Convincing those they cared about to essentially help them commit treason seemed cruel, but Loki only approached those they knew beyond a shadow of a doubt would do what was right. Heimdall. Fandral. Sigurd. Asmund. There were, of course, others that Loki trusted and cared for, but given the sensitivity of their goals, they needed to keep their circle as tight as inhumanly possible. The more people who knew, the more likely the plan would fall apart and the more people Loki would be putting in danger.

It broke their heart to abandon Asgard, strange as that sounded. While Odin had never been good to them and Asgard had always treated their second prince as an outsider, Loki’s whole life sat upon that realm. Friends, family, old and new love interests alike, the source of so much of Loki’s happiness despite all of the misery that they faced on a day-to-day basis. Asgard may not have been their home, but it was the closest thing Loki ever had to one and to leave, knowing very well that they may never be able to come back...

That had been harder than they expected and when they left, it had been with a heavy heart.

But Asgard was not more important than their children and with not only the desire and determination but the need to reunite their family and protect their offspring from the cruelty of Odin’s hands, Loki left without looking back and without regret. Saga and Sleipnir disappeared with their mother, as they were the only two Asgardbound. Loki debated whether they should come and how safe it would be for them, but in the end, if Loki disappeared and saved their off-realm children, the ones closest to Odin would suffer greatly in their place. It wasn’t worth the risk and Loki wanted all of their children together.

Liberating Hel from Helheim and Fenrir from his prison had been... daunting, to say the very least, and even more difficult than Loki originally anticipated, but they managed it. It took nearly everything they had, but they’d done it. That only left Jörmungandr but he was an easy find and he also happened to be located on the realm they were destined for anyway.

Midgard.

No one expected Gods to make a living as a mortal. Sure, visiting Midgard was one thing, to see how the ignorant realm worked and how so many people could go about their daily lives with so little information about the rest of the Universe. Most Asgardians didn’t believe it was worth the time, but some found interest in it even enjoyed mingling with and often forming short-term relationships with the mortals they came across. Loki was no stranger to that mentality.

Once they arrived and collected Jörmungandr, the rather large family headed to London. Loki already had an elaborate scheme prepared for the persona they would inevitably take up.

Fandral and Sigurd helped with the preparations of Loki’s new life, as they both had access to non-Aesir agents who held no loyalty to Odin. These on-world spies went to work securing the proper location, supplies, and ties for Loki’s gang before they ever arrived, making it more than simply enough to slip into the roles already decided for them.

Loki went by the name Bella Charming, a young woman who ran a joint called The Empire. She took in both young women and men on the side, training them in what most would call criminal activity but it was a way to make a living, get people in need off the streets, and it formed some fiercely strong loyalties. Loki’s children took up various personas as Bella’s first girls (and in the case of Fenrir and Sleipnir, boys).

Keeping in contact with only a few individuals on Asgard, Loki was able to monitor their moves from afar and with Heimdall in their court, Loki knew if Odin ever caught onto their position or lifestyle, Loki would be the first to know about it.

For years, they went undetected, living their seemingly mortal lives without much in the way of disturbance. Asgard never seemed to catch onto them, but it turned out that Asgard wasn’t the only threat they faced. What humans were referring to as “monsters” popped up more frequently and with these supernatural creatures came organizations in pursuit--people like the Invisible Men who wished to eradicate the monsters to keep the world safe from them, and people like Tenebrae, who wished to harness their power to enhance their own agendas.

Due to just how much magic Loki and her family produced, they had a bad tendency of drawing unwanted attention to their area, though they were always careful not to give their true selves away, it certainly didn’t make for an easy ride. Loki thought about relocating, to get as far away from both the Invisible Men and Tenebrae as they could, but there were no reassurances that no one would follow or turn up in the new location of wherever they settled. 

Besides, Loki and the kids were happy in London, had grown attached to their new home and the people they let in along the way. Bella’s girls became an extension of Loki’s family and it seemed too cruel to rip that away from them after all of the trauma they’d been subjected to.

Falling in love though... that hadn’t been part of the plan.

Well, love was, perhaps, a strong word. Loki’s attraction to Hyde was obvious from the very beginning. Her willingness not to bend to his will or influence was just as strong, but she allowed herself moments of weakness with him. At first, she wasn’t entirely sure why she found herself captivated by him. He was obviously more than human, but that didn’t mean much to her. She could have cursed her own self out the first time she’d fallen into bed with him.

Inviting Hyde in, though... meant putting herself and her lifestyle at risk. For the most part, they’d been able to lie low, take care of creatures that threatened to out them if need be, but mostly go unnoticed by those too stupid to realize they were anything but human. Getting close to Hyde, though, meant Tenebrae and the Invisible Men would follow. 

Hyde--and the man he lived inside of, Jekyll--both seemed young and inexperienced, unprepared for the challenges that they would face. Hiding definitely hadn’t been much of an option for them and they lost friends along the way. Gods, they nearly lost their little brother, Ravi, in all the chaos. 

It would have been wise to distance herself, Loki knew that. Even her children knew that and yet, they could not bring themselves to scold her for indulging in a touch of desire and romance. By the Nine, they all seemed to take well to Hyde despite his... issues. Simply tossing him aside quickly became something that none of them were willing to do, especially Loki. Knowing what the Invisible Men or Tenebrae would do to or with him, Loki tried to protect him, attempted to warn him in subtle enough ways that would not put her family in direct danger.

That final showdown, though... Gods, that had been the undoing of everything.

Loki and her children were used to traveling via magic, but willingly participating in portals or teleportation or even something like the Bifrost was insanely different from being ripped through space against your will, vacuumed up like a few dust bunnies and tossed into the void. It had been some intense power to pull them all through with such force. Even Loki’s magic couldn’t combat it, not that she really had the time to try anything.

The stress of being forced out of the form she’d taken for years proved... far more painful than she could have expected. Shape-shifting had always come naturally to her, something easy and painless that allowed her to be whoever and whatever she wanted in the matter of a few seconds. Reverting back to her more normal appearances was usually just as seamlessly easy, but when something else’s power forced her against her will to shift, it felt like molten liquid coursing through her veins, likely due to her own magic attempting to combat the foreign energy source and remain in Loki’s chosen form.

She staggered as they came out the other side of...? Wherever it was that they ended up, eyes squeezed shut and jaw clamped tightly to keep from screaming as, momentarily, it felt like she could have been ripped apart from the inside out. Of course, she knew better, truly she did, but the sensation was no less horrible because of is and as she fell to the ground, her teeth grinding together with enough force to cause some noticeable concern in her jaw, her hands came up to grip at the collar of her jacket. Pulling it open, she nearly clawed her own skin as emerald magic danced angrily beneath her flesh, attempting to keep her visage as Bella Charming intact, but it quickly fell apart, revealing paler, porcelain-like flesh, much more angular features as far as the face was concerned, and vividly green eyes.

Loki’s hair was still quite dark, perhaps even darker than Bella’s had been, and it cascaded over their shoulders in thick waves, unkempt and in desperate need of a proper brush and a few sturdy hair ties. The clothing Bella wore hadn’t been nearly long enough for Loki’s normal stature, making it look a bit out of place, though no less flattering. Even with a flat chest and harsher bone structure, it was difficult to place Loki into a specific gender and while still glad in Bella’s garments, mistaking them for a female would have been easy.

“Mum!” they could hear someone shout, Saga, they thought, though their ears were ringing so loudly that it was difficult to make out which of their girls it actually was. "Mum, are you all right?” Footsteps hurried towards the crumpled figure and the young woman hit her knees beside Loki, both of her hands outstretching to place on her mother. That touch helped ground Loki, helped rouse them out of their momentary lapse in presentness, and slowly, the no longer disguised God finally opened their eyes.

“Oh thank Gods,” Saga murmured, tossing her arms securely around her mother. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I think so...” Though Loki’s head pounded ferociously, they could at least see straight as the pain eased out of their system.

Behind Saga, Loki could see their children going through similar system shocks. Hel’s form had only been what her Aesir form would appear like without the half-dead portion of her body. She phased in and out of the projection of half-decay several times in the course of a few short moments but eventually managed to stabilize her visage the quickest. 

Jörmungandr, while hidden in the guise of a beautiful young woman with red hair and bright green eyes, demonstrated a surprising amount of restraint considering the natural size of the World Serpent’s true form. Rather than shift completely into a massive snake, Jor managed to force a shift back to what he would call his natural Aesir visage, a rather feminine male who looked remarkably like his mother in just about every way, though he did stand a bit taller than Loki. The transition wasn’t seamless, though, as Jor developed several serpent-like traits in his attempts to remain humanoid, the most obvious being the snake-skin that cropped up in patches across his pale flesh and the inconsistency of actually having a proper nose.

Fenrir and Sleipnir, the poor dears, were forced right into their most natural forms, though. Sleipnir had never been very strong with magic and when it came to shape-shifting, he always needed a bit of help for the initial shift. Fenrir was far more powerful in magic, but far behind his siblings in his studies due to how long he’d been imprisoned before their time on Midgard and while both brothers were massive in size, they were at least smaller than Jörmungandr’s true mass.

Hel was already at Sleipnir’s side, knowing out of all of her siblings that he would need the most hope in shifting back into an Aesir form, but Fenrir lowered himself down close to the ground, looking as if he were prepared to pounce on someone. His muzzle pulled back in a snarl, growling at anyone who dared to get close to him and even snapping his jaws at one of the Tenebrae nearest him.

“We need to help them,” Saga murmured. “Do you think you can stand?” Loki nodded and Saga took that as an invitation to get back to her feet, both of her hands grasping onto her mother’s hand and arm so she could help hoist Loki up.

As Loki got to their feet, a bit of magic swept over their clothes, shifting Bella’s typical style for something much more practical for moving about. Slim-fit black pants tucked into calf-high boots, a simple tunic tucked under a light jacket, and their hair twisted into a long, sturdy braid draped over their left shoulder just to get it out of the way.

It took them a moment to feel sturdy on their feet as whatever so violently forced them out of the only form they’d known for years had really thrown them through the wringer, but as soon as Loki could confidently step forward without falling back to the ground, they quickly made their way to Fenrir. A gentle hand fell on Fenrir’s muzzle, the other lifting as high as Loki could manage to scritch behind Fenrir’s ear. 

“It’s all right, love, it’s all right,” they murmured. “You’re safe with me.” 

Fenrir’s growls quieted and he relaxed, his massive head gently nudging against Loki’s chest so he could press as close to his mother as his oversized form would allow unless he literally knocked Loki off their feet and laid on them. It wouldn’t have been the first time but that seemed impractical now.

“What happened?” the wolf asked and while he still sounded like himself, his voice was rougher, more jagged, almost as if he’d growled the words out rather than spoke.

“I’m not... really sure,” Loki admitted. “But we will figure it out. Just breathe and relax a moment. I’ve got you,” they added, placing a gentle kiss atop Fenrir’s head.

Thankfully, Hel managed to help Sleipnir shift back to their Aesir form without much of a problem and while Jor still had slitted snake eyes rather than average, human-looking eyes, the rest of his appearance stabilized without a problem. His eyes immediately looked around for Ravi, as he’d found himself growing fond of the little human. It should have worried him that Ravi would be terrified or, at the very least, confused, but that didn’t even occur to the serpent, as he was more concerned about ensuring he was all right than anything else.