#honorable mentions for master and commander

[canadianbakinblr]

I'm not gonna lie, for a second there I thought this was fanart of Captain Jack Aubrey(from Patrick O' Brian's book Aubrey-Matruin bookseries) with Wyll Ravengard and I was very confused, but very enthusiastic, about a possible Baldur's Gate 3 crossover fic. Wyll strikes me as a fellow who would possibly be inclined to a naval swashbuckling lifestyle.

Size difference and hair ties and one owlbear

[stylesispunk]

"Shadows of the love under the laurel"

Marcus Acacius x fem!reader

Summary: In the shadows of the Roman Empire, you, a devoted servant, discover love with the honorable General Marcus Acacius. You both navigate the treacherous current of social expectations when a looming marriage comes to risk everything.

w.c: 13k.

warnings: themes of slavery and servitude, forbidden love, mentions of anxiety, mentions of blood, angst, fluff, poorly written smut, no proofreading.

a/n: I don't know what to write in here, but this one was a request by @negrita2345 i hope I did it justice and I hope you all enjoy it and share your thoughts with me because I really love to read your comments and thoughts. They make my day, so thank you in advance! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💌 happy reading 💌✨

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

The sound of the iron gate clanged shut behind you, a cold finality to another day of servitude. You knew that sound well, it was the only sound you had known since you were born, clamoring as a death knell, just reminder of your place in the world. You didn’t even own your freedom, yet you belonged to everyone who had put their hands on your skin or had thrown daggers at you. As a servant, your life was nothing but an endless circle of command shouted from faces that never bothered to learn your name. They simply called you “girl.”

In your twenty-three years, you had learned to endure the sting of insults, the cruel hands that shoved you from one task to another, and the stares that stripped all your dignity. Respect was something that didn’t exist for someone like you, born in the shadows of Rome’s grandeur. You were a property, a tool to serve, to scrub, to clean, and to remain unseen.

And today was no different. You had been sold again.

The place you now found yourself in was the biggest you’d seen. The walls were taller than the marble floors polished to a gleaming white that made your hesitant to step across them. A legion of other servants moved like silent specters, each one avoiding you gaze as you were ushered through the grand halls. It was as though no one acknowledged the arrival of new blood. In their world, new servants were as replaceable as the jugs of wine they carried.

As you moved through the villa, you hear whispers-murmurs of the man who ruled this place. General Marcus Acacius, a name that belonged to a man who had gained respect and admiration. He was no ordinary master, it seemed. He was a warrior, a man who had earned his position through conquest and battle. A man who stood close to the Emperor himself.

Your stomach knotted at the thought. Men of power, you had learned, were often the cruelest. The more they gained, the more they needed to remind those beneath them how little they mattered. You could only hope that Marcus would be indifferent—that he would not notice you at all.

“Girl, this way.”

A sharp voice broke your thoughts. One of the older housekeepers, her face lined with age and wear, beckoned you down a side corridor. It was darker here, the sunlight from the Roman skies barely reaching the shadowed walls. The keeper’s voice softened as you walked.

“You’ll serve General Acacious directly,” she said. “He’s… not like the others.”

You glanced up, surprised by the odd tone in her voice. You weren’t sure if the keeper meant it as a warning or a reassurance, but you nodded nonetheless, keeping your eyes lowered. You approached a set of heavy doors, carved with intricate symbols and flanked by tall, stoic guards. The keeper gestured toward them.

“The general is inside. Speak only when spoken to. He does not tolerate foolishness.”

With a final nod, the keeper disappeared down the corridor, leaving you alone. You stood for a moment, the weight of the moment pressing down on your chest. There was no telling what awaited you on the other side of those doors. You swallowed hard, brushing a strand of dark hair from your face before you stepped forward.

The guards opened the doors without a word, and you found yourself in a large, open room filled with the smell of burning incense and leather. It was dimly lit, the sunlight creeping through narrow windows high above, casting long shadows on the ground. Your gaze lifted, and then you saw him.

Marcus.

General Marcus Acacius stood by a table, bent over a map with a furrowed brow. His armor was still strapped across his broad shoulders, and the crimson cloak draped over his back gave him the appearance of a man who had just come from battle. He was taller than you had imagined, his presence commanding without a single word. His dark hair was cropped close, and his sharp features bore the marks of someone who had lived a life of discipline and war.

For a long moment, he did not acknowledge your presence. You stood still, your heart pounding as you waited for his command, for the words that would decide the course of your life here.

Finally, he looked up, his dark eyes locking onto yours. There was something in his gaze that startled you, not precisely cruelty, but something else. Something you couldn't quite name.

"You are the new servant?" His voice was low, measured. He didn’t shout like the others.

"Yes, General," you replied softly, lowering your eyes to the floor as was expected.

He watched you for a moment longer, and you could feel his gaze lingering on you, almost burning. It was as though he was seeing something in you that others had never cared to look for.

"Good," he said at last, turning back to his maps. "You will serve me directly. Be quick. Be silent. That is all."

His words were not cruel, nor were they kind. They were simple, matter-of-fact. You let out a quiet breath, your heart still pounding in your chest. You turned to leave, but something held you in place, a curiosity that stirred within you, a question you did not dare ask aloud.

What kind of man was General Marcus Acacious?

As you left the room, the weight of your life as a servant settled back onto your shoulders, but there was something different now, something you had not expected. It was faint, a flicker of warmth in the cold corridors of your mind.

In the days that followed, you learned what it meant to serve Marcus Acacius. His world was orderly, precise, and unyielding. He expected his servants to move with quiet efficiency, anticipating his needs before he voiced them. There was no room for error, but unlike you previous masters, there was also no room for cruelty. Mistakes were met with silence, not blows. It was a strange sort of mercy, one that left you both relieved and on edge.

You were tasked with attending to the general’s quarters, a task that placed you in close proximity to him every day. You polished his armor, prepared his baths, and ensured that the scrolls and maps he studied late into the night were neatly arranged. He rarely spoke to you, and when he did, it was brief and to the point. Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he noticed you in a way no one else had.

It was in the quiet moments between orders that you caught fleeting glimpses of the man behind the title.

One afternoon, as you were cleaning his quarters, you heard a faint groan of pain. Startled, you looked up to see Marcus standing by the window, his hand gripping his side. His face was tight with discomfort, though he said nothing.

You hesitated, unsure if you should speak. “General… are you hurt?”

His eyes flicked toward you, the sharpness in them softening just slightly. For a moment, you thought he might ignore your question, but then he spoke.

“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice strained. “An old wound. It… flares up from time to time.”

He didn’t offer more, and you knew better than to pry. Yet, something in his tone—a vulnerability you hadn’t heard before made you want to help.

Without thinking, you set aside your cleaning cloth and moved toward him. “I could bring you something… some herbs. For the pain.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, surprised by your boldness. “You know of such things?”

“My mother… she was a healer,” Your replied quietly, your eyes downcast. “Before…” You trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence. The silence filled in the gaps—before you were taken, before you became a servant.

He watched you for a long moment, as if weighing your words. Finally, he nodded. “Very well. Bring it.”

You hurried to the kitchens, your heart pounding. It was the first time Marcus had allowed you to do anything beyond your usual duties. As you gathered the herbs your mother had once shown you, the ones that could ease any pain and swelling, you thought of the strange connection you had felt in that moment. It wasn’t just your desire to help him. It was something deeper, something unspoken that passed between them.

When you returned to his quarters, Marcus was seated at the edge of his bed, the tension in his shoulders evident. You approached cautiously, mixing the herbs into a small vial of oil, then holding it out to him.

“You need to apply it to the wound,” you explained, your voice barely above a whisper. “It should ease the pain.”

Marcus took the vial from you, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment. His touch was warm, surprising you. Your eyes met, and in that fleeting second, you felt an unfamiliar flutter in your chest—a burn you quickly buried.

“Thank you,” he said, his tone sincere. It was a small word, but coming from a man like Marcus, it carried weight.

You bowed your head, stepping back as he stood and moved to apply the oil himself. You returned to your work, quietly cleaning the room, but your mind was elsewhere. You had never thought much of men, especially men of power. To you, they were all the same: cruel, indifferent, obsessed with their own glory. Yet, Marcus was different. He was distant, yes, and bound by duty, but he was also… something else. There was a complexity to him, a quiet pain that you couldn’t quite understand.

As the days passed, you found yourself watching him more closely. You noticed the way he carried the weight of command, his posture rigid, his eyes always alert. He was a man constantly at war, not just with the enemies of Rome, but with himself. You saw it in the way he would stare out the window late into the night, lost in thought, his fingers drumming against the hilt of his sword as though preparing for a battle that had not yet come.

And then, one evening, everything changed.

It was late, the rest of the household quiet, and you were tidying the general’s quarters as he sat by the hearth, reviewing maps of distant lands. The flicker of firelight cast shadows on his face, making him appear both weary and resolute. You were just about to leave when he spoke, his voice low and thoughtful.

“Tell me,”He said, following by the use of your name for the first time. “How did you come to be here? In this life?”

Your breath caught. No one had ever asked you that before. No one had ever cared to. You hesitated, unsure if you should answer, but the look in his eyes was not one of command. It was curiosity. Genuine, quiet curiosity.

“I was born into it,” you replied softly. “My mother… she was a healer in a small village outside of the city. But when the soldiers came, they took us. I was just a child then. I don’t remember much before it.”

Marcus’s gaze lingered on you; his expression unreadable. “And your mother?”

“She didn’t survive long after that. She grew sick, and no one would help her.”

There was a long silence after that, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. You stood there, your hands clasped in front of you, waiting for him to dismiss you. But he didn’t. Instead, he sighed, a sound so faint you might have missed it had you not been standing so close.

“Life in Rome is rarely kind,” he said, his voice distant. “Even for those who believe themselves fortunate.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You simply stood there, watching as the general seemed to wrestle with thoughts he could not or would not speak aloud. Finally, he shook his head, as if clearing his mind, and looked at you once more.

“You may go,” he said, his tone once again that of a man in command. But there was a softness to it now, something that hadn’t been there before.

You bowed and left the room, your heart pounding. As you walked down the dark corridors of the villa, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you, that the lines separating servant and master had blurred, if only for a moment.

Weeks passed, and Your role in Marcus’s household became routine, yet far from ordinary. You had served many masters before, but none like him. There was a strange rhythm to your interactions now, a wordless understanding that passed between you in brief glances and moments too fleeting for anyone else to notice. Marcus was still the general, the powerful, untouchable figure, but there were cracks in his armor that only you seemed to see.

The changes were small at first. A few words exchanged at the end of the day, a subtle shift in the way his eyes lingered on you when you thought he wasn’t looking. It was during one such moment, late in the evening, that your quiet bond deepened.

You were clearing away the remains of his evening meal, the room lit only by the soft glow of a single oil lamp. Marcus sat at his desk, writing a letter, his brow furrowed in concentration. You moved silently, careful not to disturb him. But as you turned to leave, your hand brushed the corner of the table, knocking over a small cup.

The sound echoed in the stillness.

Your heart leaped into your throat. You had been so careful, always careful. You froze, waiting for the rebuke, the sharp words you had heard from other masters a hundred times before.

But instead of anger, Marcus’s voice came, calm and even. “It’s alright. Leave it.”

You paused, your fingers trembling as you stooped to pick up the cup, determined not to disobey. But as you did, Marcus spoke again, his tone softer this time.

“Do you always expect punishment so quickly?”

You straightened slowly, unsure how to answer. “It’s what happens when mistakes are made, General,” you replied quietly, your eyes still downcast.

Marcus stood, his towering frame casting long shadows in the flickering lamplight. He approached you slowly, the silence between you thick with unspoken words.

“Not here,” he said, his voice low. “You don’t have to fear that here.”

His words, though simple, carried a weight that you weren’t prepared for. For a moment, you dared to look up at him, meeting his eyes. There was something in his gaze—a gentleness that you had never expected to find in a man like him. It made your chest tighten, and you quickly dropped your gaze again.

Marcus sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t know what kind of men you served before, Mea Columba, but cruelty… it does not make a man stronger. It only makes him feared.”

He was quiet for a long time after that, standing just a breath away from you. You could feel the heat of his presence, the nearness of him unsettling but not unpleasant. You could sense the tension in the air, something unspoken hanging between you like a thread stretched too tight.

“You deserve better than that,” he said finally, his voice almost too soft for you to hear.

Your heart raced, your thoughts a tangled mess. How could he say such a thing? You were nothing more than a servant, a slave, how could someone like him believe you deserved anything at all? But in his words, you heard the truth of what he felt, and it terrified you as much as it filled you with something dangerously close to hope.

Before you could reply, before you could make sense of the moment, the door creaked open, and a soldier entered the room, interrupting them. Marcus immediately stepped back, his expression shifting into the impassive mask of the general once more.

“General Acacius,” the soldier said, bowing. “The emperor has requested your presence tomorrow. Urgent matters to discuss.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened. “Very well. Inform the Emperor I’ll be there.”

The soldier bowed again and left the room, leaving you and Marcus standing in the silence. The air between you had changed, something fragile, something delicate had passed between you, but neither dared acknowledge it.

“You may go” Marcus said, his voice once again composed, though you could sense the tension beneath it. “Get some rest.”

You bowed quickly and left the room; you heart still pounding in your chest. As you walked back through the dim corridors, you replayed his words in your mind

“You deserve better”

and wondered how dangerous it was to believe them.

You hadn’t expected him to say your name, less to hear a name with such affection from him It startled you, but in a way that made you feel seen, in a way that sent warmth through you despite the cool evening air.

“It’s all I’ve known,” you whispered, barely able to speak the words.

Days passed in a quiet blur, and the memory of that evening lingered between you, heavy and unspoken. Marcus was the same outwardly, maintaining his stoic demeanor in front of his soldiers, the senators, and his household. Yet, when he looked at you, when your eyes met across the room during your brief encounters, you could feel the shift in him, the way his guarded exterior faltered for just a moment.

It was in these fleeting moments that you began to understand the gravity of what was growing between you. You had never been close to a man before, not like this. Your world had always been one of shadows, of quiet obedience. But now, Marcus’s presence lingered in your thoughts, his words echoing in the stillness of your nights.

"You deserve better."

You couldn’t stop hearing it. And it frightened you. How could someone like him, someone with power, command, and the loyalty of an empire, care about someone like you, a servant who had spent her life in the background? The idea felt dangerous, as though it could upend everything you knew, yet it was there, undeniable.

The tension between you simmered, growing with each passing day. You never spoke of that moment again, but it hovered between you, thickening the air whenever you were alone.

One afternoon, you were attending to the general’s chambers when he returned earlier than expected from the training grounds. His tunic was damp with sweat, the edges of his dark hair clinging to his forehead, and a fresh bruise marked his arm.

He entered the room quietly, not saying a word at first, watching as you busied yourself, you’re your work. You tried to remain calm, to focus on your duties as you had always done, but the awareness of his gaze unsettled you. Finally, Marcus broke the silence.

he said your name, almost sounding hesitant.

You turned to face him, your heart quickening at the sound of your name. He had been saying it more often lately, and each time it carried a weight that made your pulse race. “Yes, General?”

For a moment, Marcus seemed to struggle with himself, his expression hard to read. He took a step closer, the air between you humming with tension. “You’ve been quiet lately,” he said, though the statement felt more like a question. “Are you… well?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. “I am, General. I—” You hesitated, unsure how to respond. The truth was, you had been keeping your distance, afraid of what might happen if you let yourself grow any closer to him. “I’ve just been… busy with my tasks.”

His eyes searched yours, as though he could see past your words to the truth beneath them. “You don’t have to keep your distance, mea columba,” he said quietly. “Not from me.”

The words sent a shiver through you. You wanted to step back, to remind yourself of your place, but something in his gaze held you still. There was a tenderness there, a vulnerability that you hadn’t expected to see in him.

“I’m only a servant,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You… you don’t have to concern yourself with me.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, and he took another step toward you, closing the distance between you. “You’re more than that,” he said, his voice firm but soft. “You’re more than what this life has made you.”

Your breath caught. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to the depth of his words. You had spent your whole life believing that your worth was measured by your service, by how invisible you could make yourself. But Marcus… he saw you. And it terrified you as much as it filled you with warmth.

“You deserve more than this life, mea columba” Marcus continued, his hand lifting ever so slightly as if he wanted to reach for you but stopped himself. “More than this… than the way others have treated you.”

Tears burned at the edges of your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. You couldn’t let herself believe in what he was saying. It was impossible. He was a general, bound by duty and honor to Rome. And you were, no, you had to be nothing to him. Anything else was too dangerous to even imagine.

“Please,” you said, almost pleading, “don’t say such things. I can’t…” You trailed off, your words caught in your throat.

Marcus’s eyes softened, the hard edges of his face relaxing just slightly. “I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know we can’t… but it doesn’t change how I feel.”

The admission hung in the air between you, raw and real. Your heart pounded, your mind reeling from the weight of his confession. You wanted to step forward, to reach out and touch him, to tell him that you felt the same—that his kindness, his quiet strength, had stirred something in you that you had never thought possible.

But she couldn’t. The world wouldn’t allow it. He was a man of power, and you were a servant. Their lives were too different, their paths too far apart.

And yet, standing there in the quiet of the room, with only the soft flicker of candlelight between you, it felt as though the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving only the two of you in the stillness.

Marcus reached up, his hand trembling ever so slightly as it brushed against your cheek. You gasped at the touch, your skin tingling under his fingertips. It was the first time he had touched you like this, softly, tenderly, as though you were something fragile and precious.

“I wish things were different,” he murmured, his thumb gently caressing the curve of your jaw.

You closed your eyes, leaning into the warmth of his hand despite yourself. You knew you shouldn’t, knew that this moment could only lead to heartache, but you couldn’t stop herself. “So do I,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

For a long moment, you stood there, suspended in the silence, the weight of your unspoken feelings pressing down on you. But then, just as quickly as it had begun, Marcus pulled away, his hand falling to his side. The mask of the general slipped back into place, his expression once again composed, though his eyes still burned with the emotions he couldn’t voice.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, stepping back. “I shouldn’t have—”

You shook your head. “No, it’s… it’s alright.”

But it wasn’t. You both knew it.

“You should go,” Marcus said, his voice rough with regret. “We… we can’t.”

You nodded, though your heart ached. “Goodnight, General.”

You turned and left the room, your heart heavy with the weight of what had just happened.

The days that followed were unbearable. You tried to go about your duties as usual, but you couldn’t shake the weight of Marcus’s words, the feel of his hand against your cheek, the unspoken desire that lingered between you. It haunted you in the quiet moments, in the stillness of night when you were alone with your thoughts.

And you could see it in him, too.

Every glance you shared, every brief exchange, held a tension that had not been there before. Marcus’s eyes lingered on you longer than they should, his gaze filled with something he dared not speak aloud. You could feel the conflict within him, the struggle between his duty and what lay deep in his heart.

One afternoon, as you were preparing the general’s chambers for the evening, you heard footsteps behind you. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was. You could feel his presence, the energy in the room shifting the moment he entered.

“Columba” he said softly, his voice different from the tone he used with anyone else. There was no command in it, no expectation—just a quiet plea.

You turned to face him, your heart already racing at the sound of your nickname on his lips. He stood in the doorway, his posture rigid, yet his eyes betrayed him. They were filled with the same turmoil that had been building between you for weeks.

“General,” you said, your voice steady though your heart was anything but.

He stepped forward, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. “Marcus,” he corrected, his gaze fixed on yours. “When we’re alone, please… call me Marcus.”

The intimacy of his request made your chest tighten. You had spent your life addressing him with titles, always reminding herself of the distance between you, but now… now he was asking you to cross that distance, to meet him as something more than a servant.

“Marcus,” you repeated softly, the word feeling foreign yet familiar on your tongue.

A small smile touched his lips, but it was strained. He walked slowly toward you, his movements careful, as though he was afraid to shatter the fragile space between you. When he stopped just a step away from you, you felt the air grow thick, the unspoken emotions pressing down on you both.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Marcus said, his voice low and rough with honesty. “I’ve tried… I’ve tried to bury it, to remind myself of who I am, of what’s expected of me. But every time I see you, every time I hear your voice… it’s like I can’t breathe.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. You had never imagined a man like Marcus, a man of such power and command, could feel this way about you. You had always been invisible, always kept in the shadows. But with him, you felt seen. And that terrified you.

“Marcus, we can’t…” You shook your head, your voice trembling. “You know we can’t. You’re a general. You serve Rome. I’m nothing more than a servant.”

“You are not nothing,” Marcus said sharply, his eyes flashing with a rare intensity. He reached out and gently grasped your wrist, his touch sending a jolt through you. “Don’t ever say that. You are everything I—” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening as if he were trying to restrain words he couldn’t say.

Your heart pounded in your chest. You could feel the heat of his hand on your skin, the warmth of his breath as he stood so close. Every instinct told you to pull away, to remind him of the impossibility of this, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t deny the pull between you, the feelings that had been growing in your heart, no matter how forbidden they were.

“Why me?” you whispered, your voice fragile as your heart. “Why would you care for someone like me, when you could have anyone?”

Marcus’s gaze softened, his grip on your wrist loosening but not letting go. He lifted your hand slowly, his thumb brushing over your palm in a gesture so gentle it made you ache. “Because you see me,” he murmured. “Not the general, not the man who leads armies or answers to the emperor. You see me.”

His words made your chest tighten painfully. You had always tried to stay invisible, to keep your head down and avoid the eyes of those who held power over you. But with Marcus, it was different. You saw the man beneath the armor, the one who carried the weight of duty and responsibility on his shoulders but longed for something more—something real.

“I can’t stop what I feel for you,” Marcus continued, his voice filled with raw honesty. “Even though I know it’s wrong, even though I know what the world would think if they knew… I can’t stop.”

You felt your resolve crumbling. You wanted to tell him that you felt the same, that his kindness, his gentleness, had woven its way into your heart. But the fear of what could come from this, the danger of their impossible love, held you back.

“I feel it too,” you admitted softly, you voice barely above a whisper. “But we have no future, Marcus. You know that. You’ll be expected to marry—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his voice tight. “I know I’m bound by duty. I’ve spent my whole life doing what Rome asks of me. But for once, Livia, I want something for myself.”

His words hung in the air, thick with longing and pain. Your heart ached for him, for the man who had given so much of himself to an empire that would never give him the freedom to love who he chose. And yet, even as you felt the weight of his confession, you knew the truth.

“Even if we want this,” you whispered, “Rome will never let it happen.”

Marcus’s face tightened with frustration, his hand still holding yours as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

You stood in silence for a long moment, the weight of your love pressing down on them. Your heart pounded in your chest, torn between the desire to give in to the feelings you had tried so hard to suppress and the reality of the world they lived in.

Finally, Marcus spoke again, his voice heavy with resignation. “I don’t know what the future holds,” he said softly. “But I know that for now… I need you here. By my side. Even if that’s all we can have.”

You swallowed hard, tears burning at the edges of your eyes. You knew he was right. Your love, if it could even be called that, would never be allowed to flourish in the light. But in the shadows, in the quiet moments you shared, it was real. And maybe, for now, that had to be enough.

You nodded, your voice barely audible as you whispered, “I’ll stay.”

Marcus’s shoulders seemed to relax, and for the briefest moment, a small, sad smile crossed his face. He gently released your hand, stepping back, the distance between you once again restored. But the bond you shared remained.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice filled with emotion. “For staying.”

It was a few days later, and the weight of your shared confession still lingered in the air. The nights had grown heavier with unspoken feelings, and each day, the tension between you and Marcus became harder to ignore. You told yourself to be content with what little time you could have by his side, though it tore at you, knowing that it would never be enough.

That evening, you were cleaning his quarters, your movements methodical, when the door creaked open behind you. You turned and saw Marcus step in, but this time he wasn’t the composed general you had grown used to. His tunic was torn at the shoulder, a dark patch of blood staining the fabric. His brow was furrowed, his jaw set in pain. He tried to stand tall, but there was no hiding the wince as he moved.

"Marcus," you gasped, forgetting all formality in the moment, rushing toward him. Your heart hammered in your chest, worry washing over you at the sight of him.

“It’s nothing,” he said gruffly, waving off your concern, though the tightness in his voice betrayed him. “Just a training injury.”

You moved closer, eyes searching his. You had seen him injured before—he was a soldier, after all—but this felt different. There was a vulnerability in the way he looked at you, as though he had allowed himself to come to you in a moment of weakness.

“You should sit,” you said softly, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. “Let me prepare a bath for you.”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, walking slowly toward the bed and sitting on its edge, his movements stiff and labored. His dark eyes followed you as you quickly went to work, preparing the bath with warm water and fragrant oils to ease his wounds and the tension in his body.

When you returned, you found Marcus removing his tunic, the fabric peeling away from the gash on his shoulder. His skin was marred with bruises, old and new, the marks of a warrior who had seen countless battles. But it was the fresh wound that made your heart ache, the sight of him in pain stirring something deep within you.

“Let me help you,” you whispered, kneeling beside him. He met your eyes, his expression unreadable, and then he nodded, allowing you to step closer. With trembling hands, you gently unfastened the remaining clasps of his armor, your fingers brushing against his skin. You tried to keep your touch professional, but each time your skin met his, a jolt of electricity shot through you.

Once he was bare to the waist, you guided him to the bath. He lowered himself into the warm water with a sigh, his muscles relaxing as the heat enveloped him. You sat on the stool beside the tub, gathering a soft cloth in your hands. You hesitated for a moment, the intimacy of what you were about to do settling heavily in your chest.

When you began to gently scrub his skin, the water rippling with each movement, Marcus closed his eyes, leaning back slightly. His breath came in slow, deep draws, and for a moment, it was as though the world outside the room no longer existed. There was just you, him, and the quiet sound of water.

Your hands moved carefully over his skin, your touch tender and cautious, tracing the contours of his shoulders, his back, the lines of his strong arms. You could feel the tension in his body slowly easing, though your own pulse raced with each moment that passed. The intimacy of the act was overwhelming, but Marcus made no move to stop you.

As you worked, you couldn't help but steal glances at his face, at the way the flickering candlelight danced across his strong jaw and the softness in his expression that he only ever showed when you were alone.

He opened his eyes after a long silence, catching your gaze. “You don’t have to do this,” he murmured, his voice husky from the warmth of the bath or perhaps something more.

“I want to,” you whispered, barely able to meet his eyes. “Let me take care of you.”

The vulnerability in your voice, in the gesture of your care, seemed to affect him deeply. Marcus’s eyes softened, and he reached out, his fingers brushing against your wrist in a silent gesture of thanks. The warmth of his touch lingered on your skin long after he pulled away.

For a long while, you continued in silence, the only sound the gentle splashing of water as you washed away the blood, the dirt, and the exhaustion from his body. Each stroke of the cloth felt like a confession, a quiet way of telling him what you couldn’t say aloud. That you cared for him. That you wanted to protect him in whatever small way you could, even though you knew you couldn’t keep him from the dangers of the world beyond these walls.

When you reached the wound on his shoulder, you were as delicate as possible, your touch light and careful. Marcus winced slightly, but he didn’t pull away. His eyes remained on you, dark and intense, watching every movement of your hands as though you were something precious.

“You’re always so careful,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why?”

You paused, your heart tightening at the question. How could you explain it? How could you put into words the way your heart ached for him, the way you wished to offer him comfort in a world that demanded so much of him?

“Because you’ve given me more kindness than I’ve ever known,” you whispered, barely able to say the words. “I want to give some of it back.”

Marcus’s gaze softened even more, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might say something, something that would change everything between you. But instead, he closed his eyes, leaning back into the water, his hand slipping beneath the surface and resting on the edge of the tub.

You continued to wash him in silence, your heart heavy with the knowledge that these moments, these stolen moments in the shadows, were all you would ever have. And yet, they felt so real, so profound, that you couldn’t bring yourself to regret them.

When the bath was finished, you helped Marcus stand, wrapping a towel around his broad shoulders. He stood before you, his body strong but weary, the weight of his duties ever present in his posture. You couldn’t help but reach out, your hand brushing lightly against the wound on his shoulder.

“Does it hurt?” you asked softly.

He shook his head, but his eyes told a different story. “Not as much as other wounds,” he said quietly, his gaze meeting yours. “Not as much as the ones I can’t show.”

Your heart clenched at his words. You understood. The wounds of battle were visible, but the wounds of the heart—the ones inflicted by duty, by honor, by a world that wouldn’t allow him to follow his desires—were far deeper.

Marcus’s hand reached out, his fingers gently curling around yours, and for a moment, he held on as though you were the only thing keeping him grounded. His eyes searched yours, filled with emotions too complex to name

Marcus’s fingers curled around yours, and in that moment, the air between you seemed to shift. The world outside his chambers fell away, leaving only the two of you, standing so close, bound by an unspoken connection that had been building since the moment you first laid eyes on him. The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver through you, and you felt your breath catch in your throat as his thumb gently brushed over the back of your hand, a simple touch that carried a weight neither of you could ignore.

His hand lingered, holding yours as if it was the only anchor he had left. His eyes were darker now, filled with emotions too complex to name—longing, conflict, something deeper that neither of you had dared to speak aloud. The space between you felt fragile, like a thread stretched too tight, and yet neither of you could pull away.

“Mea columba” he murmured, his voice rough, barely more than a whisper. The way he said your name sent warmth coursing through your veins, and you felt yourself trembling beneath the intensity of his gaze.

You opened your mouth to speak, to say something—anything—to break the silence, but the words wouldn’t come. You didn’t need them. Everything was in his eyes, the way they searched yours, as though he were trying to find an answer to a question he hadn’t yet asked.

Slowly, cautiously, Marcus took a step closer, his hand still holding yours. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, the pulse in your ears deafening as the space between you closed. His breath was warm on your skin, mingling with your own as he stood so close that the air felt charged, thick with something unspoken.

He reached up with his free hand, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed a strand of hair from your face. The touch was so tender, so careful, that it made your heart ache. His thumb lingered on your cheek, his palm cradling the side of your face, as though he were afraid to break the moment, afraid to shatter the delicate connection you shared.

“I’ve tried to fight this,” he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet desperation. “I’ve tried to remind myself of what’s right, of my duty, of all the reasons why I can’t—”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. You already knew. You knew the weight of the world that rested on his shoulders, the impossible choice he faced between the life he was bound to and the feelings that had grown between you.

But in that moment, as you stood in the dim light of his chambers, none of it seemed to matter. It was just the two of you, and the pull between you was too strong to deny.

“Marcus,” you breathed, your voice trembling as his name passed your lips, a quiet plea for something you both knew couldn’t be undone.

He hesitated for just a moment, his gaze searching yours one last time, as if waiting for a sign, for permission to take that final, forbidden step. And then, with a soft, broken sigh, Marcus leaned in.

His lips brushed yours, so softly at first that it felt like a whisper, a question, a promise. The world seemed to still around you, the moment suspended in time as he kissed you with a tenderness that made your heart ache. His hand tightened around yours, holding you close, as though he were afraid to let go, afraid that this fragile moment would slip away if he loosened his grip.

And then, slowly, the kiss deepened. His lips pressed more firmly against yours, and all the emotions that had been building between you, longing, desire, love, poured into that single, desperate kiss. It was as though every unspoken word, every hidden glance, every touch that had lingered too long was finally allowed to come to life.

You kissed him back, your hand finding its way to his bare chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath your fingers. It beat in time with yours, fast and hard, as if it, too, was caught up in the storm of emotions swirling between you. His other hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his body warm and solid against yours.

For a moment, nothing else mattered. Not the rules, not the expectations, not the world outside these walls. There was only Marcus, his lips on yours, his hands holding you like you were something precious, something he had longed for but never thought he could have.

“I don’t know how we’ll keep this secret… but gods, I can’t stop myself. I don’t want to stop.”

You felt the same. You didn’t know how you would hide this, how you would keep it from the eyes of the world, but in that moment, you didn’t care. You had already crossed a line, and there was no going back.

“I don’t want to stop either,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “But we’ll find a way… we have to.”

Marcus’s hand slipped from your waist to your cheek once more, his fingers brushing softly against your skin. He leaned in again, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment as though he were trying to hold on to the peace you had found in each other, but as soon as your eyes connected in unspoken pleas, his lips found yours again, this time his kiss screamed desire for you.

The way his right hand slipped down your arm, his touch soft but filled with purpose, sent a shiver through you. His fingers trailed along the curve of your waist, pulling you closer as his lips remained firmly attached to yours, deepening the kiss with a slow, deliberate intensity that made your head spin.

His body pressed against yours, strong and warm, as if he were trying to merge your very beings into one. The world around you seemed to melt away, your senses consumed by the feel of him, the taste of him, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. Each moment felt suspended in time, the quiet intimacy of the moment holding you both captive.

You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his chest rising and falling in time with yours as the kiss grew more passionate, more desperate. His hand at your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him, as though he needed to feel every part of you, to confirm that this wasn’t a dream.

Your own hands, trembling with the weight of the moment, slid up his arms, feeling the strength beneath his skin, the tension coiled in his muscles. You had never been this close before, never allowed yourself to imagine being this close to him. And now, here you were, pressed against him in a way that defied everything you had been told about your place in the world, everything you had believed about what you deserved.

His lips moved against yours with a hunger that matched the fire burning in your chest. It wasn’t just desire, there was something deeper, something raw and unspoken that neither of you had been able to express until now. Every kiss, every touch, was a release of all the feelings you had kept locked away for so long.

As his lips parted from yours for just a moment, his breath hot against your skin, Marcus whispered your name again—so soft, so reverent that it felt like a prayer. His forehead rested against yours, his eyes half-closed, his voice thick with emotion.

“I can’t…” he whispered, his hand still resting firmly at your waist, holding you close as though he couldn’t bear to let go. “I can’t stop this.”

Neither could you. You didn’t want to. You were lost in him, in the warmth of his touch, in the way he held you like you were the only thing that mattered. You could feel the conflict within him, the weight of his duties and the forbidden nature of what was blossoming between you, but none of that mattered in this moment.

His lips found yours again, this time slower, more tender, as though he were savoring every second, memorizing the feel of you in his arms. His hand slid up your back, pulling you even closer, as if he needed to feel the beat of your heart against his own. You melted into him, your own hands finding their way into his hair, threading through the dark strands as you kissed him with a longing you had kept buried for far too long.

No long after, his fingertips caressed your shoulders, slipping the strips of your dress down your arms. None of you stopped locking your gazes as you felt you dress slipping down your body. You were completely bare in front of the man who had made your heart race like never before.

You had never felt like this before, and the fire in the pit of your stomach was a new sensation for you. There was fire everywhere.

Marcus swept his eyes down your body, clearly reacting to the sight in front of him. The dim light of the moon danced across your skin. Marcus couldn’t believe it. You were the most beautiful woman he laid his eyes on, and under his stare he could swear God had made you just for him to find you, to find love in your eyes and in the way they looked at him now.

He placed his right hand on your neck, before trailing the path down to your neck, your breasts, your stomach as if you were the most delicate map he had ever touched in his life.

Goosebumps arise on your skin as you gasped under his touch. The way he unbraided your hair and swept it, looking at you with adoration. He wasted no time to devour your lips with his, stealing the moaning sounds out of your mouth, when his fingers slipped into your entrance. He worked his was in and out, your mouths attached, and his tongue caressed your swollen lips.

Your hands made their way to his back, his chest, his stomach. A groan came out of his throat when your fingers found his cock. Before you could even react, he carefully laid you on your back, his eyes bored into yours. Your lips were parted by the surprise of his sudden movement, and yet you looked beautiful under his stare, and you could feel beautiful too. It felt like a dream, to had found love in someone like him.

Marcus reached out and cupped your breasts. Your nipples hardened at the touch, and he duck down taking one in his mouth. You whispered his name making his cock throb at the sound of you pleading him, clearly enjoying the was your stomach trembled under his body. He then spread your legs to find the place where you needed him the most.

“Marcus” you whispered; voice weak “please.”

He grumbled and buried his entire face on your cunt. Your legs tightened in surprise, but he kept them open by draping one over his shoulder. He'd done this before, but with you, it seemed different. This time, he couldn't contain his thrill at the thought of making you pleased. He wanted you not only for this reason, but also because you cared for him and he for you, and he desired to prove thar by making love to you and waking up next to you for the rest of his life.

He continued sucking on your clit until you gasped for air. You felt hot under his tongue, and the flavor of you drove him crazy.

“You’re so beautiful mea columba” he whispered, pushing your thighs further apart and took his cock to press the head into your cunt, pushing it with pressure. You both moaned. He dropped his head to your shoulder, inhaling your exquisite scent.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, voice trembling at the thought. You were tight. He knew for the way your eyes looked that you never had done this before, so he tried to be as careful as he could.

“Marcus” you moaned, whimpering. He was all the way inside you. He felt embarred as how weak he seemed because of you. He tried not to come so fast, while glancing between you every second to make sure he wasn’t hurting you.

When he felt himself getting close, he tried to lift your back, holding onto your waist, his chest against yours, lips devouring each other.

“I’m in love with you, mea columba” he whispered, while pounding into you with a steady but delicate force it made you squirm.

your lips and bodies moving in perfect harmony, the rest of the world slipping away as you both gave in to the feelings you could no longer deny. The weight of the consequences lingered at the edges of your mind, but in that moment, nothing seemed as important as this. As him. As the way his hand cradled your waist, the way he kissed you like he had been waiting for this his entire life.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads still resting together. The silence that followed was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was filled with the quiet understanding that you had both crossed a line, and there was no turning back now.

Marcus’s eyes flickered open, his gaze locking with yours, the intensity of his emotions shining clearly in the dim light of the room. His thumb brushed lightly against your waist, a touch so gentle, yet filled with a quiet urgency that made your breath catch in your throat.

“I meant it,” he whispered, his voice low and rough with emotion. “I’m in love with you.”

His words hung in the air, thick and heavy with a truth neither of you could deny anymore. And then, without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed his lips to your forehead, the kiss soft and lingering, filled with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

You felt a rush of warmth flood through your body, his confession sinking deep into your chest. You had heard it in his voice before, seen it in his eyes, but hearing those words—words you never thought someone of his stature would say to you—made everything feel real. His love was dangerous, forbidden, but it was also undeniable.

Tears burned at the edges of your eyes, not out of sorrow, but from the overwhelming emotions that surged through you—relief, joy, and the painful knowledge that this love, as real as it was, lived in the shadows.

“I…” your voice faltered, barely above a whisper. “I never thought I’d hear you say those words.”

His forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he closed his eyes, his hand tightening around your waist, pulling you even closer. “I’ve tried to fight it,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet anguish. “I’ve tried so hard to push it away, to tell myself it can’t be. But I can’t… I don’t want to fight it anymore.”

You felt the trembling in his voice, the vulnerability in his words, and it mirrored the storm of feelings inside you. You had spent so long burying your own emotions, convinced that someone like Marcus could never see you as more than a servant, more than someone beneath him. But here he was, his love laid bare, his heart in your hands.

A tear slipped down your cheek, and before you could speak, Marcus lifted his hand to your face, his thumb brushing the tear away with the same care he had shown you so many times before. His eyes were filled with something so raw, so real, that it made your chest ache.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words escaping you before you could stop them, but you didn’t want to stop them. They were the truth, and in this moment, you had no reason to hide.

Marcus closed his eyes again, his lips parting in a quiet, shaky breath, as though the sound of your confession had taken away the last of his restraint. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw with a tenderness that made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

“I’ll protect you,” he said softly, his voice filled with quiet resolve. “Whatever happens, whatever comes next… I won’t let anything take you away from me.”

His words were a promise, one that felt as fragile as it was powerful. You both knew the risks, knew the world wouldn’t accept this love, but in his arms, in this stolen moment, you believed him. You believed that somehow, against all odds, you might be able to hold on to each other.

As the night deepened, the warmth of Marcus's arms around you became a cocoon of safety and comfort, unlike anything you had ever known. The intensity of your shared confessions, the raw emotions lingering between you, began to soften into a quieter, more intimate connection. His hands, once rough with battle, now caressed your skin with the gentleness of a man who had found something worth protecting, something precious.

You remained in his embrace, the two of you sitting on the edge of his bed, the flickering candlelight casting soft, golden shadows across his quarters. Marcus's thumb traced slow circles against your back, his touch reassuring and grounding, as though he was afraid that letting go would make this moment slip away into a dream. His forehead still rested gently against yours, his breathing steady but deep, as if he, too, was caught in the weight of everything you had just shared.

“I never imagined feeling like this,” you whispered, your voice barely breaking the silence of the room. You weren’t sure if you were confessing to him or simply speaking aloud the truth of what was in your heart. “I never thought I’d ever know this kind of closeness, this… love.”

His grip on you tightened slightly, his lips brushing the top of your head. “Neither did I,” he murmured, his voice thick with sincerity. “Not like this. Not with you.”

For a while, neither of you said anything. The quiet sounds of the night outside his window drifted in—a soft wind, the distant murmur of soldiers on watch, the occasional flicker of torchlight from the corridors. But none of it touched the stillness that enveloped the two of you in this space. Here, with Marcus, the world felt far away.

You felt the exhaustion from the day, from the intensity of everything, slowly creeping into your limbs. Your eyelids grew heavy, and despite the swirl of emotions still lingering in your chest, a deep weariness began to settle over you.

Marcus must have sensed it too, because his hand moved to your cheek, lifting your face gently so that your eyes met his. His expression softened, the hardness of the general gone, replaced by the tenderness of a man who cared deeply for you.

“You’re tired,” he said quietly, his voice filled with concern. “You should rest.”

You opened your mouth to protest, not wanting to leave his embrace, not wanting to lose the warmth of his presence. But he only smiled, his thumb brushing across your cheek in a soothing motion. “Stay here. With me.”

It was more than just an invitation. It was a promise, a reassurance that you didn’t have to return to the cold solitude of your small, servant's quarters. Tonight, you could stay here, beside him, and find some peace in his arms.

You breathed in the scent of him, your heart finding a slow, steady rhythm against his, and in the safety of his embrace, you finally let go.

Marcus’s hand continued to stroke your hair, even as sleep pulled you under. You could feel his heartbeat beneath your palm, strong and sure, and it lulled you into the sweetest, most peaceful sleep you had known in years.

And just before the darkness of sleep claimed you completely, you felt him press one last kiss to your temple, his lips soft and warm against your skin.

“Goodnight, my love,” he whispered.

And with that, you fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, wrapped safely in his arms.

The days that followed were filled with an eerie calm, the quiet before the storm neither of you could ignore. You and Marcus fell into a rhythm of stolen moments—brushed hands when no one was looking, lingering glances that spoke more than words could ever say. In the dim light of dawn, in the safety of his quarters, your world shrank to just the two of you, the outside concerns held at bay for a little while longer.

But the world, especially one as ruthless as the Roman Empire, couldn’t be held back forever.

It began with hushed whispers from the servants, news of political maneuvering at the highest levels. You heard it first while fetching water from the well. Two women were gossiping, their voices low but clear enough for you to overhear.

“The Emperor’s orders,” one of them said, her tone almost gleeful. “General Acacius is to marry Lucilla, they say. It’s all but decided.”

Your stomach dropped, the bucket in your hand suddenly too heavy. You froze in place, the weight of those words sinking into you like a stone. Marcus is to marry. The Emperor’s will was absolute, and any personal desires, any feelings, would be swept away like dust in the wind.

You barely remember how you made it back to Marcus’s quarters, your mind a blur of emotions—dread, anger, helplessness. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing with the terrible reality you were trying to push away. By the time you arrived, your hands were trembling, your breath shallow as if the air itself had become too heavy to breathe.

When Marcus walked in later that evening, you could see it in his face before he even spoke. The weight of duty, the burden of decisions not his own, bore down on him like a heavy cloak. His eyes, once so full of warmth when they met yours, were shadowed with the knowledge of what was to come.

You tried to speak, to find the words to ask him if it was true, but they caught in your throat. Instead, you stood in silence, waiting for him to tell you.

“They’ve ordered it,” he said quietly, his voice strained. He didn’t meet your eyes as he spoke, as if doing so would make it all too real. “The Emperor has arranged a marriage.”

Your heart shattered at that moment, but you willed yourself not to show it. You had always known this was a possibility—he was a man of power and status, and the empire would always demand his obedience. Still, knowing didn’t soften the blow. You felt like the air had been knocked out of your chest.

Marcus took a step closer to you, his expression pained. “I didn’t want this,” he murmured. “I don’t want her.”

He reached for you, his hand hovering just above your arm as if unsure whether he still had the right to touch you. The distance between you felt insurmountable now, the shadow of his impending marriage looming over everything you had built together.

You pulled back, just enough to break the unspoken promise of his touch. “But you must,” you said, your voice trembling. “You have no choice.”

Marcus’s eyes finally met yours, and the anguish in them was more than you could bear. “I swore I would protect you, that I wouldn’t let anything take you from me.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to stay strong even as the tears threatened to fall. “And I swore I would stay by your side, no matter what,” you whispered. “But Marcus, this… this is the world we live in…I can’t stay here just to watch you being married to a woman who is not me.”

“I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice breaking. “I can’t pretend this marriage means anything to me. It’s politics, nothing more. You are what I want.”

You felt your resolve crumbling, the enormity of what you were facing pulling you under. “But once you’re married…” The words felt like poison on your tongue. “Once you’re bound to her…”

He shook his head fiercely, stepping closer again, this time not hesitating as he took your hands in his. His touch was warm, familiar, but it couldn’t erase the reality pressing down on both of you. “I won’t let her come between us. I won’t.”

Tears filled your eyes despite your best efforts to hold them back. You couldn’t stop the ache in your chest, the knowledge that your love would now have to exist in the shadows of Marcus’s new life—hidden, secret, and forbidden.

“What kind of life is that for us?” you asked, your voice breaking. “A love hidden away, always in the dark?”

Marcus’s jaw clenched, his eyes blazing with desperation. “We’ll find a way,” he insisted. “Even if the world says we can’t… we’ll find a way.”

You wanted to believe him, you wanted to hold on to the love that had grown between you, but the cold reality was seeping into every corner of your heart. This marriage wasn’t just an obstacle—it was a wall that you couldn’t break through.

You stepped away, pulling your hands free from his grasp. The distance between you felt like a chasm now, one that neither of you could cross. “I don’t know if love is enough,” you whispered, the weight of the world pressing down on your chest. “I won’t have my heart broken every day of my life just for you to see me from afar.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, each one a dagger piercing both your hearts. Marcus's face fell, the determination in his eyes flickering like a candle in the wind. He reached out once more, but hesitated, his hand hovering between you as if unsure whether he still had the right to touch you.

"Mea columba, please," he pleaded, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Don't say that. Don't give up on what we have."

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly brushed it away, straightening your spine to muster whatever strength you had left. "I'm not giving up," you replied softly. "But I can't live a life where I'm constantly in the shadows, hiding what I feel, watching you build a life with someone else."

He shook his head vehemently. "My marriage to Lucilla will be in name only. It means nothing compared to what I feel for you."

"But it changes everything," you insisted, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. "She will be your wife. She will stand beside you in public, share your home, perhaps even bear your children. Where does that leave me? Sneaking around in the dark, pretending I don't exist whenever others are near?"

Marcus's expression crumpled, pain etched into every line of his face. "I would never ask you to diminish yourself like that."

"But that's exactly what this would be," you said, stepping back further to put some distance between you. "I deserve more than to be a secret, Marcus. And deep down, you know that."

He opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. The silence stretched between you, filled only by the distant sounds of the bustling city beyond the walls—a world that seemed determined to keep you apart.

Finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse. "What are you saying?"

You took a shaky breath, gathering the courage to face the truth you'd been avoiding. "I'm saying that perhaps it's time for me to leave."

His eyes widened in alarm. "Leave? No, you can't. I won't allow it."

A bitter smile tugged at your lips. "You can't keep me here, not like this. Not when staying would mean watching you live a life, I can never be a part of."

Desperation flashed across his face. "I can speak to the Emperor. I can refuse the marriage. There must be a way—"

"And risk everything you've worked for? Your honor, your position?" You shook your head sadly. "You and I both know that's not possible. The Emperor's command is absolute. Defying him would only bring ruin upon you."

"I would risk it for you," he insisted, taking a bold step forward. "For us."

"And that's precisely why I can't let you do that," you replied gently. "I won't be the cause of your downfall.” You inhaled “Because you would end up despising me for it.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every movement. "So, what then? We part ways? Pretend none of this ever happened?"

You felt your heart break a little more at the pain in his voice. "I don't want to forget," you said softly. "I will cherish every moment we've shared. But sometimes, love isn't enough to overcome the obstacles before us."

Marcus's shoulders sagged, defeat washing over him. "I can't accept that."

"Neither can I," you admitted, tears welling up once more. "But it's the only way we can both move forward without destroying each other."

He looked at you with a profound sadness, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hope. "Where will you go?"

You offered a small, sad smile. "I'll find somewhere. Perhaps another household, or maybe I'll find a way to make a life for myself beyond these walls."

A tense silence settled between you. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely audible. "When?"

You swallowed hard. "Soon. Before the marriage takes place."

He closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to steady himself against the inevitable. "At least allow me to ensure you're safe. Let me arrange for you to be placed somewhere you'll be treated well."

You considered refusing but knew it would ease his mind. "Alright," you agreed quietly. "Thank you."

Marcus stepped closer once more, and this time you didn't pull away as he reached out to cup your face gently in his hands. "I love you," he whispered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "That will never change."

A sob escaped your lips, and you placed your hand over his. "And I love you. More than you could ever know."

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, and for a moment, the two of you stood there, memorizing every detail of each other's faces—the warmth of your breaths mingling, the softness of his touch, the sorrow in his eyes.

"Promise me something," he said softly.

"Anything."

"Promise me you'll find happiness," he murmured. "That you'll live the life you deserve."

You nodded slowly. "I promise."

A single tear rolled down his cheek, and he pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you as if it were the last time—as indeed it might be. You clung to him, wishing you could freeze time, keep this moment suspended forever.

After what felt like both an eternity and a mere heartbeat, you pulled away, knowing that if you didn't leave now, you might never find the strength again. "Goodbye, Marcus," you whispered.

He reached into the folds of his tunic and pulled out a small object—a simple silver pendant engraved with a laurel wreath. "Take this," he said, pressing it into your hand. "So you'll always have a part of me with you."

You looked down at the pendant, your vision blurred by tears. "I will treasure it always."

With a final, lingering glance, you turned and walked away, each step heavier than the last. As you left his chambers, the weight of your decision settled fully upon you, but beneath the pain, there was a quiet resolve. You were choosing your own path, difficult as it was.

Behind you, Marcus remained standing, watching you go until you disappeared from sight. The echo of your footsteps faded, leaving him alone with the emptiness of the room and the ache in his heart.

The days that followed were a blur. True to his word, Marcus arranged for you to be placed in the household of a kind widow on the outskirts of the city. The woman, Julia, welcomed you warmly, unaware of the depth of your connection to the general. To her, you were simply a skilled servant in need of a place, and she was grateful for the help.

Life in Julia's home was peaceful, a stark contrast to the turmoil of your emotions. Each day, you performed your duties diligently, but your thoughts often drifted back to Marcus—the sound of his voice, the warmth of his embrace, the intensity of his gaze as he declared his love for you.

News of his impending marriage reached you through whispers in the marketplace. The union was to be a grand affair, solidifying political alliances and elevating Marcus's standing even further. You tried to steel yourself against the pang of jealousy and sorrow that accompanied these rumors, reminding yourself that this was the path he was bound to follow.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson, you found yourself standing on a hill overlooking the city. The distant sounds of celebration drifted up to you—the marriage ceremony was taking place. Clutching the silver pendant around your neck, you closed your eyes and whispered a silent farewell.

"May you find happiness," you murmured into the evening breeze. "And may our paths cross again in another life."

As the first stars appeared in the sky, you took a deep breath and turned away from the city. There was a whole world beyond Rome's walls, and perhaps, in time, you would find your place in it—where you could heal and maybe even find joy once more.

Weeks passed, each one heavier than the last. You had settled into Julia’s villa , trying to find peace in the simplicity of your new life. But the ache in your heart remained, the thought of Marcus and his looming marriage never far from your mind. Each night, you clutched the silver pendant he had given you, hoping it might somehow tether your heart to his, even from a distance.

It had been months since you had last seen him, and you had resigned yourself to the reality that Marcus’s life had moved on, even if yours still felt frozen in time. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

One late afternoon, as you were tending to the garden outside Julia’s villa, you heard the distant sound of horses approaching. You looked up, wiping your hands on your apron, and saw a group of soldiers in familiar Roman armor riding up the path. Your heart skipped a beat. Could it be?

When they came to a stop, your breath caught in your throat. There, dismounting from his horse, was Marcus—his eyes searching frantically until they landed on you.

Your heart raced, and before you could even process what was happening, Marcus was striding toward you, his face a mix of determination and relief.

"Marcus?" you whispered, barely able to believe your eyes.

Without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, as if he had been afraid you might vanish if he let go. His warmth surrounded you, and for the first time in months, you allowed yourself to hope again.

"I found you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I told you we'd find a way."

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, confusion clouding your thoughts. "But… your marriage? Lucilla?"

Marcus shook his head, his gaze locked with yours. "It's over. The Emperor himself annulled it."

Your breath caught in your throat. "What? How? Why?"

A faint smile touched his lips, though his eyes were serious. "Lucilla… she didn’t want this marriage any more than I did. She petitioned to me, and together we spoke to the emperor. She’s in love with someone else, someone who she could never marry while bound to me." He paused, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. "And the Emperor, surprisingly, agreed to release both of us."

You stared at him, stunned, unable to fully comprehend what he was saying. "So, you’re free?"

He nodded. "I’m free, mea columba. I can choose my own path now. And I’ve come to ask you to walk it with me."

Tears welled in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of joy. "Marcus, I…" you stammered, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotions. "Is this real? Are you really here?"

He smiled then, the first genuine smile you’d seen from him in so long. "Yes, it's real. I love you. I don’t care what anyone else says or thinks. I want you by my side, not in the shadows. I want you to be with me—openly, proudly."

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Everything you had feared, all the obstacles that had once seemed insurmountable, had fallen away. And standing before you was the man you loved, offering you the life you had once thought was impossible.

You smiled through your tears, your heart bursting with happiness. "I love you, Marcus," you whispered. "And yes, I’ll walk that path with you. Wherever it leads."

With that, he leaned in and kissed you, a kiss full of promise and hope, sealing the future you would share. At that moment, everything felt right. The shadows of the past no longer held power over you, and the weight of uncertainty had lifted from your shoulders.

Marcus took your hand when he finally pulled away, lacing his fingers through yours. "Come," he said softly. "Let’s go. There’s a whole world waiting for us."

A few months later...

The soft morning light filtered through the open window of the villa, casting a golden glow over the room as you slowly stirred awake. The cool breeze carried the scent of wildflowers from the hills, filling the air with the promise of a new day. You lay in bed, nestled in Marcus's strong arms, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing.

For months now, you had known peace, a life far removed from the chaos and expectations of the Roman court. Marcus had retired from the military, choosing a quiet life with you in the countryside. The villa had become your sanctuary, a place where you could live freely, without the burden of secrecy or fear. No more hiding in the shadows—your love had found the light.

Gently, you shifted in Marcus’s embrace, your hand resting over your growing belly. A small, soft smile spread across your face as you felt the faint flutter of movement inside you. Marcus stirred beside you, his arms tightening around you instinctively, as though even in sleep, he wanted to protect you.

You gazed down at your hand, marveling at the life that grew within you—a symbol of the love you and Marcus had fought so hard to protect. This child, your child, was the future you had once feared might never come.

Marcus’s eyes slowly opened, and he smiled sleepily as his gaze met yours. "Good morning," he murmured, his voice deep and warm.

"Good morning," you whispered back, your hand still resting on your belly. His eyes followed the movement, and his expression softened as he reached out to place his hand gently over yours.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice filled with tenderness.

"I'm well," you replied, your smile widening. "The baby’s been very active this morning."

Marcus’s face lit up, and he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “And he will know freedom.”

His gaze lingered on you, filled with a deep, unwavering love. "I still can’t believe this is real," he said quietly, his thumb gently brushing your hand. "After everything, we’re here—together—and soon, we’ll have a family."

You felt tears prick your eyes, not of sorrow this time, but of pure happiness. "It’s everything I never thought I could have," you admitted softly. "But now, I can’t imagine life any other way."

Marcus leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tender kiss, one that spoke of all the joy and gratitude you both felt. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, as if savoring the moment.

"I love you, Mea columba" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "More than words can say."

"And I love you," you replied, your heart swelling with happiness. "For always."

Together, you lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of your journey behind you and the promise of a bright future ahead. The child you carried was a testament to your love, a symbol of the life you had built together despite all the odds.

Outside, the world continued to turn, but here, in this quiet, peaceful place, you had everything you had ever dreamed of, Marcus, your love, and the family you would soon welcome into the world.

The future stretched out before you, filled with light, joy, and hope. And as the first rays of sunlight touched the horizon, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you and Marcus would face them together, stronger than ever, bound by a love that had defied the impossible.

Your love had triumphed. And now, the greatest adventure of all was about to begin, the creation of a family, born out of that love.

[cryptidghostgirl]

could you do Alastor and Lucifer with an Living! Adams Family! Reader?

A/N duh. this idea was so fun!! It's giving Beetlejuice in the best way

I Myself am Strange and Unusual (Alastor x Reader x Lucifer)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Mention of suicide in reference to Dante's Inferno. Bones. Art made from bones.

Word Count: 1,655

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Y/n sat before the summoning circle as she lit the las candle. It was a Friday and she was bored, what else was she supposed to be doing besides following some probably fake spell she found in a book she'd thrifted? She took after her mother in that regard but had wound up with her fathers rather flamboyant personality.

"Now, what are those words..." she mumbled to herself, turning the odd slip of paper the spell had been written on over.

Her eyes glazed over them and she cleared her throat.

"Spirits from beyond, I call you Lucifer, who first cursed us, I call you to me. Lucifer, who commands the legions of the dead, I summon you from the last plane to the first. Lucifer, wicked, heartless beast, I bring you to your knees before me. Spirits from beyond, I call you!"

Y/n looked up from the paper in excitement, a look which quickly dimmed as absolutely nothing happened before her eyes. She turned back to the paper, squinting to read the cramped letters.

"Okay, wait. Theres another name here. Uh, spirits from beyond, I call you. Alastor, keeper of the dark defeat, I call you to me. Alastor, demonic overlord, I summon you from the last plane to the first. Alastor, both hunter and hunted, I bring you to your knees before me. Spirits from beyond, I call you."

Again, her work failed to yield any results. Y/n stayed seated for a moment, waiting. When it was clear to her that the spell had not in fact done it's job, she sighed and got to her feet.

"Well that was a waste of a half hour."

She turned on the lights before leaning forward and grabbing the nearest candle. With a short breath of air, she blew it out only, somehow, all the candles seemed to go out as she did this, even the scented one on the shelf that hadn't been involved in the ritual.

"Oh there is no way." Y/n smiled, anticipation bubbling in her chest, "There is literally no way!"

The lights began to flicker as she placed the candle she was holding on the desk. The minute it hit the table's surface, the room fell into a short spell of darkness. As the lights flickered back on, Y/n saw two men standing in the center of the circle.

Well, men was a strong word. They were both humanoid in shape but, neither really looked like people. They looked around the room in shock, taking in every detail before their eyes landed on each other.

The taller of the two demons, the one all in red and holding an old fashioned looking microphone, widened his already close to horrific smile. The smaller one, dressed in all white, narrowed his eyes.

"You." the man in white sighed, crossing his arms, "Of course I had to get summoned with you."

"There is literally no way." Y/n exclaimed, cutting off the red demon as he opened his mouth to speak.

Both men turned to Y/n, in her black dress with her wide excited eyes.

"Ah." the red demon hummed, his voice coming out like radio static as he straightened his jacket, "You must be the one who summoned us. I am Alastor, quite the pleasure to meet you. Yes, quite the pleasure."

Y/n turned her gaze to the demon in white.

"So that means you must be Lucifer. It is such an honor to meet you."

"Huh." Lucifer smiled slightly, "Now that's more like it. Wait, you're not one of those freaks, are you?"

"Freaks?" Y/n asked, her head cocked slightly to the side and her brow furrowed.

"One of those oh! You brought evil to the world! You're my idol people." Lucifer imitated animatedly.

Alastor shot him an irritated look as Y/n's eyes widened and she shook her head.

"No no no! They have it all wrong. You didn't bring evil, you gave us the greatest gift of all. You have us free will, self determination. The ability to be exactly who we are and want to be."

Lucifer turned to Alastor, crossing his arms over his chest with a self satisfied smile.

"Oh I like her. Pretty and she knows her stuff?"

Y/n blushed slightly, looking away. She clasped her hands behind her back. Alastor didn't like that.

"Yes, quite the charming girl indeed." he hummed through gritted teeth, meeting Y/n's eyes.

"And Alastor..." she put a finger to her lip in thought, "Alastor... I am really sorry, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but I don't think I have ever heard of you before."

His eye twitched and Lucifer's grin widened.

"Well, my dear, I just so happen to be one of the most powerful overlords in all the rings of Hell."

"Huh. Neat."

"So, what have you called us here to do?" Lucifer asked amiably.

"Oh, well, I hadn't really though that far. Um..." she looked around the space of her room.

There wasn't anything she really wanted. Y/n had a comfortable life, a loving family. Anyone she wanted revenge on she was more than capable of taking care of on her own. Mostly, she was just bored.

Nodding her head once, she walked up to the edge of the summoning circle and promptly sat down. Her legs crossed, she adjusted the long skirt of her dress over her knees.

"Let's just chat."

Alastor and Lucifer exchanged a confused look.

"You are going to have to ask us for something, my dear." Alastor hummed pleasantly, "Otherwise we wont be able to go home. That's how this little game works, after all."

"So, I am asking you to chat. Do you guys want any drinks or something?"

With a shrug to Alastor, Lucifer sat down on the floor with his legs crossed as well. With a reluctant sigh, Alastor followed suit.

"So, what is Hell like?" Y/n asked eagerly, "Is it dark and full of bugs? It can't really be all fire and lava pits like all the art says. I mean, Dante's version of Hell makes more sense than that. Oh my gosh, is there a suicide forest? I always loved that idea, that they turn into trees. That they get the most peaceful of the options, is it real?"

"Well, there are trees." Lucifer began carefully.

"But they are not made of people's souls. No, it's actually rather close to this world down below." Alastor finished for him.

"Really? You guys have like jobs and stuff?"

"Some of us do. I am actually currently involved in a project helping to rehabilitate sinners. 'Check out of Hell and into Heaven,' that's the whole idea of the thing."

"Like you actually believe in that." Lucifer scoffed and Alastor raised a hand to his chest in false ofence.

"You... are you questioning my motives?"

"Not cool man." Y/n shook her head, "That sounds like a pretty cool project, I didn't even know something like that was possible."

Before Alastor could reply, Lucifer cut in.

"It is my daughter's project, and we aren't actually sure its possible yet."

"You have a daughter!? Is she the antichrist?"

"We-"

"Charlie Morningstar is her name." Alastor interrupted Lucifer, "And she is quite powerful. Talented too."

Lucifer turned to Alastor, glaring at him.

"Don't start this shit again."

"It's not my fault I've been there for her more than you have."

"It's more complicated than that."

"Sure it is."

At a sudden peal of bell like laughter from Y/n, the demons stopped their bickering and turned to her. She held a hand over her mouth as she tried to calm herself.

"Are you guys always like this?"

Lucifer and Alastor exchanged another look before nodding. Y/n lowered her hand, still smiling brightly.

"Maybe I'll ask you to stick around."

"You... aren't like a lot of other humans I've met in my time." Lucifer admitted.

"Strange and unusual."

"What?" Lucifer asked.

Y/n shrugged.

"That's how most people describe me. Strange and unusual. Or wonderously strange, if you ask my dad."

"Well, there is nothing wrong with that." Alastor hummed, "Strange and unusual is the best way to be. Keeps things interesting."

"Oh, no. I know. I didn't mean it in like a sob-story way. Just like, that's how I am. I don't know."

"Not a lot of people summon us. Especially not just to chat." Lucifer stated and Y/n smiled.

"What can I say, I was bored."

"You summoned us because you were bored?" Alastor repeated, his brow furrowed.

"Yeah. My friends were all busy and I love my parents but I do not love being around them on their Friday date nights let me tell you. The dancing is cute but the sword fighting when some old flame of my mother's shows up as they do every couple months? Terribile. Nothing blocks out the clang of steel against steel."

"Sounds like you come from a rather interesting family." Lucifer noted.

"Strange and unusual. I don't come from nowhere."

"Well, aren't you a gem in this dull world." Alastor mused and Y/n looked away, her cheeks slightly flushed again.

"I don't know about that, but I certainly try. Oh! Do you guys like bones? I don't know, is that a dumb question? Was it rude? Racist? Wait. Hell-cist? No that feels wrong too."

Lucifer chuckled slightly.

"Why do you ask?"

"I have a pretty big selection. Mostly deer bones."

Alastor's ears twitched.

"Deer bones?"

"Yeah." she nodded, "We eat a lot of venison at home and ever since I was a kid, my dad let me keep the bones to do projects with and the like. I have a lovely wind chime I made using parts of a spine but, sadly, its at my parents house."

"Strange and unusual." Alastor hummed.

"Strange and unusual." Y/n nodded.

----

A/N I was lowkey not sure how to end this one, I am sorry about that. I hope you liked it!!

[shirefantasies]

Hi 🍄your work is so incredible! You’re literally keeping my hobbit/Tolkien hyper-fixation alive. I was wondering if you would want to write a first kiss situation with thorins company/hobbit characters? I hope your surgery goes well and you have a easy and speedy recovery!

Thank you what an honor omg!!! Man the surgery itself was ok but everything after was NOT IT 😭 so glad to be doing better now! This is a great idea & I sure do want to write it🫡😁 sorry it took so long because this request is apparently like 5 months old 🥲

Warning: loooooong post lololol, minor blood/injury mentions, some suggestive jokes/moments, corny at times hehe

Your First Kiss With the Hobbit Characters

Balin

“You can’t keep running off like that, you know.” Fingers closed around your wrist, but not so tightly as to provide entrapment, rather a secure anchor. Secure as the comfort of Balin’s deep brown gaze, something deep sparkling in his eyes you could never find elsewhere. Beads of sweat slid down your back as your breathing slowed, the adrenaline of battle washing away. Balin knew that feeling, saw it in you. “I know,” you answered, chest falling with a hard exhale, “But I can hardly leave everyone resigned to their fate when I can help.” It was then Balin’s turn to sigh. “I know, too,” he told you, rotating his grip around your wrist so the back of your hand was enveloped in his palm, “I suppose I am just being selfish.” Some number of seconds of you gaping passed before you managed to stutter out three words. “Does that mean…?” “Aye,” was all he said as he squeezed your hand, glancing down until you cupped his cheek, bringing his gaze back into yours before tugging him into your lips for one last adrenaline wave.

Dwalin

"You?" "Were you expecting Mahal himself?" You chirp in response, leaning on your hand and giving Dwalin a catlike smile. Unfazed, he continues. "What are you doing here?" "What do you think?" You answer with a question of your own, this one far less teasing. Softer. "You can't keep coming back. This is dangerous." Dangerous, he says as if it is not he who lies in a healer's tent with a broken arm freshly set and Valar know how many other bandages. Pain and pity cross your expression as you peer down at the warrior, rest your palm over his tattooed hand. "I can't lose you, too," he adds, gaze drifting from yours and eyelashes fluttering downward sheepishly, "You are far too precious. Too pure." Rosy glow overtakes you, shining outward through your smile and into your fingers, which spread to interlock with Dwalin's. "And too foolish, I suppose, for you, Master Dwalin, will never be rid of me. Do not let yourself be taken by such folly, for nothing is purer than you deserve, my hero." You feel his hand flex beneath you; his eyes finally flicker back upward before darting back shut as he leans up, cupping your cheek with his free hand. You taste salt and breaths of anticipation, war, relief, and love all in one. Pure indeed.

Thorin

A gasp startled you out of your dazed stare into the night, fire flickering at your back as you watched over empty hills. Turning your back to it, you returned your attention to those whom you presided over, protected for the night. The sight of Thorin bolting upright gave you pause, but soon you were at his side. “Are you alright?” “…Yes.” The king-to-be would not meet your eyes, his gaze falling into the shadows the fire cast upon his countenance. “Look at me.” Your command alone was enough to snap his head up; never had you spoken so to him or used do broken a tone. Thorin’s brows furrowed. “Worry not. It was just a dream.” “That was no dream,” you shot back, all but whispering. “No.” Thorin smiled wryly. “Sometimes it all comes back. I see it in the night when I cannot fight. I am helpless to it all. They cannot be saved. Then I wake and I wonder if it is to be so.” “No,” you laid your hand over his, “This weight is not yours alone. All of us are here with you, right? I am here with you.” A genuine smile crossed Thorin’s face, a shake of his head in wonder followed by a slow nod. “Thank you.” “Of course,” you answer. As you shifted, Thorin tightened his grip on your hand. “Stay.” “I will,” you told him, “I will.” “Good.” Not another word passed between your lips before they connected, passing over each other in moonlit words unspoken.

Oin

You hadn't even realized you were wounded at first. Shock overtaking you, you had run across the battlefield in pursuit of your comrades, only for them to gape and point at the blood seeping from your leg. You were fine, you assured them, but having none of it they hoisted you up over one shoulder each and dragged you over to a healer's tent, by which point a sharp sting had begun coursing up the expanse of your right leg. You were lowered down onto the tent's cushion-lain floor with it extended, and only when you looked up were you made aware of the familiar face before you. "Oin!" At your exclamation, the healer looked up and gave such a smile of recognition that your heart flipped. He spoke your name, too, although he did not match your enthusiasm, instead calling out with worry. "It's all right," you reassured him, "Not much more than a scratch." Rolling up your trouser leg, though, Oin winced at the blood before he began cleaning it. His bearded face fell into something much more serious than you were used to; for once he wasn't joking around as the jolly dwarf you knew and loved. That facade, the great focus, lasted the entire time he tended to you in fact. His hands were so dedicated and gentle as they worked over your torn skin. Upon completing your bandaging, he peered t you, dark eyes now intent upon yours. "You'll be fine." "Were you worried?" You couldn't help chuckling a bit. No healer were you, but the wound was nowhere near grievous or life-threatening. "Of course I was," Oin agreed without hesitation, "You know how much I care about you, don't you?" "I-" Lips parting, you stuttered for a moment. In your hesitation, Oin's hand found yours and gently brought you closer until his lips hit yours, beard tickling your cheeks. "Maybe now you do," he told you, smiling as you separated, "Now get some rest, alright?"

Gloin

“If you two do not stop acting like children," Gloin called to the princes, "We will treat you like children!” “What’ll you do,” Kili countered with crossed arms, smiling at his older brother, “Put us in the corner?” “We absolutely will,” you chimed in, mirroring the younger prince’s posture, “With pleasure, you ruffians!" "You two are like an old married couple," Fili tutted, shaking his head. "That's right," you agreed, grabbing Gloin's face with both hands and yanking him into a quick kiss that had one prince whooping and one calling out in disgust as they ran off. "What in Mahal's name was that?" Gloin asked you as you separated, auburn brows raised in distinct spite of the fact you'd felt him kiss you back. "Sorry, too much? I knew it'd scare them off. Might make them talk as well, though." "I wanted to kiss you first!" Gloin complained, pouting beneath his beard and prompting you to giggle as he took your hand, ready to make a more serious confession.

Bifur

Feet thudding against the ground, you ignored the shocks to your ankles and sprinted further. Dust clouds kicked up, but you clamped your mouth shut and ran, scanning across the black splatters of orcs’ blood and sheens of fallen blades. None of it stopped until you caught the sight of familiar braids, of black hair spilling out beneath a head trickling blood. “Bifur…” You whispered. He took your hand, gazing up at you with sad eyes. Muttered something faintly in Khuzdul…did you catch the word love? Your answer came in the way he leaned to press your forehead against his, ignoring the fresh wound and the axe still embedded in it. “I’ll take care of you,” you promised, “I love you.” Your lips met with all the passion of admission and promise and hope of recovery.

Bofur

“Come on now, won’t you have a drink?” You reached out a hand, wrapping it around the tankard over Bofur’s own gloved fingers, though you didn’t accept it straightaway. Instead, you kept your hand where it was and leaned in over the liquor. “Are you trying to get me tipsy, sir?” You teased. “Why, what’ll you do if you do get tipsy?” Bofur shot back with a playful, lopsided grin. “Use your imagination,” you replied, loosening your grip on the tankard and subsequently Bofur’s hand. The dwarf, however, was not giving up so easily. “Well, as a tipsy person myself, I suppose I would imagine something like this.” Tugging your hand back into his, Bofur ignored the tankard completely in favor of pressing his lips to yours, his mustache tickling your cheeks as you surrendered to the reverie of his lips’ sweet dominance. When you finally pull away, you both wore his playful look. “Alright, now I’m trying to get you tipsier,” you told him.

Bombur

“Wait, come back!” For a moment you thought you would finally get to thank the mysterious gifter of sweets, the one who left baskets of baked goods at the edges of your garden. Always tied with a different patterned bow, this time a gold-edged ribbon of maroon. Standing up, you’d made to follow the sound of footsteps only to see a form rounding the corner, just a wide bit of cloak trailing. “Please!” You turned around one way then whipped back the other when a skidding scraped the walls of your ears. Facing you was a very stocky, flaming-haired dwarf with his hands folded politely in front of him and rocking on his heels. "Since you said please," he said, his voice simple and sweet and a little bit scared. "I've really wanted to meet you," you told him, stepping forward, "To thank you." “Are you disappointed now?” Your gifter asked. “I promise I can do more than bake, I can fight, I will fight for-” Resting a hand on his shoulder, you shook your head. “You’re sweet enough for me just as you are. Never before have I had a secret admirer- someone who went to so much effort. That alone is amazing. Enough.” “You’re too sweet for me.” Pulling him closer by the hand upon his shoulder, you pressed a little kiss to his lips. “Just. Enough. Now, can I know my baker’s name?”

Dori

Of all the company members, only one of them supplied you with a spool of his own thread. Thick thread glittering with slivers of metallic sheen interwoven between lighter strips of the tiny cords. "So it matches the rest of my coat, you know," Dori explained, eyes flitting a bit sheepishly. "Ah," you set down your usual spool, a plainer brownish roll you'd just been using on one of Kili's pockets, "I see." You'd barely glanced up from your work, from ensuring you did not strike the thimble upon your finger, until you noticed the way Dori wouldn’t meet your eyes. “I…I know I’m a lot to deal with,” he said, “But it’s just that I know how I like things! I can’t help it.” “I do not think you’re a lot to deal with,” you replied, giving the dwarf your fully undivided attention, “I would be happy to deal with you.” The way his blue eyes widened, you could tell Dori was nowhere near expecting such a response, natural as it came to you. “Would you really?” “More than happy,” you added with a nod. “Well,” he fiddled with his hands, shifting closer to where you sat, “I would be more than happy to care for you in return.” “You already do,” you told him, eyelashes fluttering, “That is what I love about you.” Your allure got to Dori then, all glitter of threads fading in favor of your eyes, which he fell into, and your lips, which he leaned into.

Nori

“Get back here!” Chasing after Nori, you called out to the dwarf, who looked back over his shoulder with a cheeky grin. Of all things, he’d chosen to nick your undergarments, the fiend. Of course. Wheeling about, Nori ran up to a large rock and jumped up to the top of it, finally towering over you. He leaned down, your undergarments clutched triumphantly in his gloved hand as your noses nearly brushed. You could feel the warmth of his breath upon your face as you gazed upward, frown faltering and words failing at this new development. Nori, of course, still looked quite smug and had no trouble speaking. Remaining exactly where he was, he remarked, "Well, this is fun, isn't it?" "No," you answered, arms crossed, "It is not. Give those back!" "You're gonna have to make me, hm?" Fine. Two could play at that game. Frustration roiled in your chest, a fire burning as you eyes met Nori's. This whole charade had you quite ready to sacrifice whatever shred of dignity you had left to fight scoundrel with scoundrel. Taking the dwarf roughly by the collar, you yanked him into you and joined your lips. He fought back quickly, far less stunned and more passionate than you'd have expected. You were happy to escalate...at least until your hand slid down, felt his relax and drop the stolen article entirely. Jackpot. All but shoving Nori back, you mirrored his earlier smirk as you strode away, taking your turn to triumphantly brandish your undergarments. "Thank you, sir."

Ori

On the edge of your seat is the only phrase you could use to describe your position as you leaned over to watch Ori's work, the way his thick fingers slid so lightly over paper, creating shadows and the faintest of lines with subtle variations in that gentle pressure. Your eyes darted between his hand and his profile, staring as if keeping the focus in those brown eyes burning with the heat of your gaze. It is amazing that Ori can do that; you tell him as much. "Want to try?" He invites, profile swiveling to face you. "I can show you." You gave a nod, reaching out a hand in anticipation of pencil's weight. Thus it fell, but around your newly-filled palm his hand closed, coarse and warm fabric closing yours and lowering it to the paper. Several layered flushes of joy radiated through you as Ori glided you around, completing the lines of leaves upon a tree. "How's that?" An uncertain amount of time passed before he turned again to face you, this time inches from you given your shift and joined hands. "...Good?" The hitch of his breath and the quietening of his voice snapped something in you. Ori, too, for he leaned in and met you halfway through the inches, his lips connecting softly, joyously, to yours, only intensifying that soaring feeling.

Fili

"What's wrong?" "Can't sleep." "So you thought you'd bother me instead?" "Bother you?" You feigned offense. "Is that what my presence does?" "Your presence, no," Fili shook his head, "The way you keep kicking at my boots? Needless to say, yes." Grinning wickedly from your seated position, you gently darted out your foot to nudge his again, leading the dwarf to lean down to your level. "Do you want us all to get in danger? Is that it? I'm on watch, you know. You're risking the lives of all of us by distracting me." "Is that so?" "So it is." Nudge. This time, your foot slid along the length of his boot's side after you gave him your little kick. "That's it." Whirling around, mustache braids swishing with the motion, the golden-haired prince knelt down, his face inches from yours. "If you don't stop, I'll make you." Backing down was not in your vocabulary. "Make me," you commanded, voice low and expression smug and satisfied as ever. Before you could get another breath in Fili's lips were crashing onto yours, his facial hair tickling your cheeks in contrast to the hard, fast contact you made. His legs quickly wrapped around your waist, entrapping you beneath him as he cupped your cheeks in his hands, diving deeper and exploring your depths as far as he could for what felt like minutes until you finally parted for need of air. Fili's light blue eyes pierced yours intently, hungrily, as you stared back at him with much greater satisfaction than ever. "You're risking the lives of us all getting distracted," you repeated his words back to him, tracing a finger along one of his coat flaps. "I'll risk my life for you any day," Fili replied, cupping your cheek again and pulling you close, this time for a much slower, sweeter kiss that finally, finally, had you speechless.

Kili

“I’m bored,” you half-jokingly whined, eyes rolling back to look at Kili from the log you had draped yourself along. Straddling the log, he turned, leaning down to fix you with that glittering brown stare you loved. “What do you want me to do, hm?” Heart flipping, you swallowed, but painted a flippant smile across your face. “Entertain me.” “Entertain you?” He repeated, his own expression blooming with mischief. “Lot of ways I can do that.” “Well,” you crossed your arms, blood rushing to your head just as much from him as your upside-down position, “Choose one, then.” “Alright,” Kili hovered closer, his breath fanning your already-heated cheeks, “Let me know how this works, then.” The moment his lips crashed into yours, you responded, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his flowing black locks, which had a few leaves caught in them but still remained soft. As you gave them a little tug, Kili parted your lips for deeper entrance. You enjoyed your upside-down kiss right up to the moment you parted for breath, panting as he smirked down at you. “Still bored?”

Bilbo

Fog overtook the corners of your mind, dusting all your intents and purposes with a haze of questions. What were you doing in such a musty old place anyway? A voice at your side expressed a need for air. Why, you wondered as you jumped, startlement pumping pure adrenaline into your blood, were you with someone with a piece of axe blade protruding out of his head? Would the same happen to you? No, he was important, wasn't he? Think, think... Before you could get much thinking done, a hand clasped around yours. This time, the warm weight didn't have you jumping as far but it did pull you along, right along to the edges of the trees where you found yourself climbing after... Bilbo! Bilbo, the hobbit, the burglar, of course! The higher up you went, the more your lungs swelled and your head steadied with relief. How could you have been scared of sweet Bifur or not recognized Bilbo? Laughter sounded a bit above you; climbing faster, you burst from the treetops and squinted as you met the sun. Joined Bilbo's sweet mirth of relief and wonderment as light scattered over the clouds, illuminating the wings of gorgeous blue butterflies streaming out of the rustling leaves. "This is beautiful," you remarked, forgetting yourself and all the troubles of the forest as suddenly as they'd come on. "I'm glad you came with me," Bilbo told you softly. Turning away from the butterflies, you faced him only to see his grey eyes peering at you with the most utter sincerity. Had he drawn closer? A wave of emotion crashed over you, cresting as you closed the gap completely, feeling him gasp against your lips before he dove in himself. Sweet, gentlemanly, Bilbo never forced entry, his focus dedicated to a loving embrace of your lips alone. Giggling like a schoolchild as you pulled away, you grinned at the hobbit, whose expression you could only describe as starstruck. "I... am very glad you came with me," he remarked.

Thranduil

The king needed no advisors. Long had it been since he would have desired them, but concerns had grown and Thranduil did nothing if not care ruthlessly for his people. Thus, members of the nobility like yourself had come together as a council for the Woodland Realm’s ruler. Thranduil had been willing to listen, but your words grated against his like a block sharpening a blade; it seemed as though your every policy fought his in some way. Twice the meeting devolved into the two of you going back and forth across the table from your seats, which were quite unfortunately directly opposite one another. Such a scene it had felt to be that the king tarried in his room of council to speak to you at meeting’s end. “Do you take some form of issue with me?” Looking confident as you had in the meeting, you crossed your arms, smirking. “I take issue with your policies.” Thranduil must confess that in that moment he was shocked by the opposition, brows raising at your bold statement. “And you think you know what is best for our people?” “Maybe I do. They put me on your council, after all.” “You,” with great resounding taps the king crosses the room to stand before you, his face mere inches from yours, “would have us put at great risk right as we hit a point of prosperity.” “I would have us realize the threats at hand,” you replied cooly, tilting your head but balking not at all from the proximity. Thranduil moves ever so much closer, shaking his head and almost brushing his nose against yours with the motion. “Reckless warmongering.” “Hiding in fear,” you challenge back, smirking. “Do you wish to be shown your place?” “Do you need to ask?” A guard crossed briefly into the room, soft address of ‘my king’ dying upon his shortened breath at the sight of said ruler embroiled in a passionate battle for lingual dominance against one of his councilors.

Bard

You were never sure how the bowman felt about you. Certainly he was friendly and enjoyed spending time with you enough, but to what end? Perhaps you were doomed to live a life upon the edge of questioning. And yet the worst part was, you had yet to discover why you didn't entirely mind. Why, in fact, you found yourself in his barge once again, paddling out beyond the horizon of cobbled together buildings leaning into each other. Just as you could lean further into the thick brown furs of Bard's coat, perhaps even feeling it against your cheek as you lean against his shoulder. As it was, you simply stood at his invitation to take up steering, moving to the other side of the boat. Unbeknownst to you, however, Bard had left one of his fishing nets on the floor; shoe’s edge catching on the tightly connected loops of rope, you tumbled forward and made an unfortunate pitch into the cold lake. Swirling into the water and kicking back up through it did not last long, and soon Bard’s hand reached out to grab yours and pull you back into shivering safety. “Are you hurt?” He asked, hands hovering over your folded legs, the ankle you’d caught. Heart swelling over the look of concern in his dark eyes, all you could do was shake your head. Folding himself, Bard dropped to his knees at your side. “Good. I was worried about you.” “You were?” You asked dumbly, ready to blame shock over such a foolish question. You needed not, though, could not- not when his lips fell immediately upon yours.

Beorn

Neighbors minded their own business. This was a simple fact of making one's home out in the far woods, out also where more and more orcs and foul things had begun to roam. Thus you had always been left to wonder who the owner of the wonderful cottage you passed by was, never seeing a single soul beyond the great deal of livestock and pleasantly plump bees flitting about the immaculately-tended flowers. Was it a woman? A man? Some sort of trap like in the old tales where places and faces so fair were always the deadliest? But who, then, would be twisted enough to craft a trap so admittedly perfect in your mind... Such thoughts did not penetrate the desperation clouding your mind the day your beloved cow, the one you'd had from a young age, strained with the aching struggle of a birth gone wrong, your feet carrying you straight to your neighbor's door. If she died, you would lose a major source of subsistence alongside one of your few friends in the whole lonely woods. The look in her big brown eyes was all you could see as you rapped on the door, your look of pleading meeting yet another big brown stare, this time upon a man with a stern face and a great mass of brown hair. Brows furrowed in confusion and perhaps slight annoyance as they were, he had no chance to speak ill before you were begging him to come help your cow, you'd seen the shape his were in after all and you could tell they were loved, please, you needed his strength- she did. The unspoken promise that the man would see you this once, then never again, hung in the air as you led him to your home, to your pasture, to the dear friend whose life he saved. “Thank you, truly,” you told him as he made to leave, “You may not wish it, but you are welcome here anytime.” Before he could say anything, you leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. Not realizing, of course, that he was turning his head, connecting your lips for the briefest of moments before you stared at him wide-eyed. “You might see me again,” he told you with a small, wry smile.

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[aemondapologistfrfr]

More Beautiful Than the Stars

addam velaryon x targ!fem!reader

Summary: After the war Rhaenyra has you enter a strategic marriage. You were unsure at first but quickly fell for your betrothed. After a moon of courting you two cannot wait to be wed. 

Warnings: 18+ wine, mentions of death from the war, arranged betrothal, oral (f receiving), p in v, proof read like 95%

Authors Note: i was late to work bc i wanted to keep writing this :))

Word Count: 6.8k anyways 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

In the wake of the war we’ve lost many who were in high positions of power and authority. Lesser Lords and Lady’s have been granted new lands and titles helping strengthen the loyalty to my mother. What took everyone by surprise was when she offered Driftmark to Addam Velaryon. 

The house seat should’ve passed to one of my brothers should they have lived. Addams elder brother refused due to resentment of Corlys. I can’t blame him for his feelings, if I was in his position I would have felt the same. Addam on the other hand wanted the recognition and the title. He served my mother well and faithfully even when Corlys did not. 

I think my mother sees a lot of Leanor in him. He has a gentle and kind spirit who is very laid back but fiercely protective. I’ve never had much interaction with him since we met right before the war. I did admire him for his bravery to flying to war in the name of my mother on dragonback. Now I’m watching his eyes water as my mother offers him Driftmark and all the comes with it. 

“Your Grace, I am honored.” Addam bows his head deeply and goes to his knee. 

“Rise, Addam, Lord of the Tides.” Rhaenyra smiles pulling him up to his feet. 

“I don’t know what to say.” he shakes his head as a smile spreads across his face. 

“Say yes, and become my master of ships.” she hums as he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“I will serve you well and faithfully. I am yours to command.” he nods and she dismisses him from the council chambers. 

“That was very generous,” I hum nodding my head to her. 

“I have one more thing to offer him.” she nibbles on her lip looking to me. 

“What more could you offer him?” I tilt my head. 

“A wife.” I shake my head in confusion. 

“I didn’t think you were so eager to marry again?” I study her face. 

“Not me, my sweet girl.” she reaches across the table to hold my hand. 

“Who?” my heart starts to race as I fear I know her answer. 

“You.” I feel my heart drop. 

“Mother, I barely know him.” my voice cracks. 

“You’ll get to know him. You’ll stay with him on Driftmark for a moon and then you will marry. I need you to do this for me. I need you there making sure he remains loyal.” her eyes pleading to mine. 

“There’s no one else to contest your throne. Why do you remain so paranoid mother?” I don’t mean to lash out with my words but I never expected her to marry me off. 

“As long as I, a woman, sit the throne there will always be scores of men to contest my birthright.” her eyes harden and she pulls her hand back. 

The chair groans as I push it against the stone and leave the hall. I try to control my breathing as I make it to my chambers. I never thought she would put me into a marriage pact. I knew with the end of the war I would be expected to marry but I didn’t think she would choose for me. 

As I push my chamber doors open I see a half dozen maids packing my bags and trunks. My breath catches at how quickly I’m to leave apparently. I feel like everything is moving so quickly as I just stand idly by. I lay back on my bed and breathe deeply as my maids continue to work. 

“Is there anything I can get you, Princess?” one of them comes to my side. 

“Please just leave me.” I wave my hand at them and they’re scurrying out of my chambers quickly. 

I sigh and turn to burry my face in my pillow. It’s not that I don’t like him, I just don’t know him. The small conversations we have had he’s been nothing but kind and sweet. I groan into the pillow feeling sorry for myself and pouting. I rise from the bed and drag my feet across the stone to finish shoving gowns into my trunks. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

As we enter the docking area I look around at the life buzzing around them. Seasmoke sings out a song over the docks as he dips in and out of the water. Once the boat stops moving I get up and walk to the edge to make it to land again. The rickety ladder won’t pull from the dock and I’m ready to tell them to just turn the boat around. 

“Allow me.” Addams voice trails from the dock and I look him over. 

He pulls on the ladder and it still won’t budge. I look to him with a raised brow as he huffs and looks up to me. He reaches up and I gasp as his hands wrap around my waist as he lifts me down to the docks with him. I steady my feet and tilt my neck to look up to him. 

“Thank you,” I feel my cheeks heat as his smile spreads across his face. 

“Of course, my Princess.” he dips his head down. 

“Y/n will do just fine.” I smooth my skirts as he continues to smile down at me. 

“Come, Y/n. Let me show you to your chambers.” he offers me his arm and I reluctantly accept as he leads me through the docks and people. 

“How fares Driftmark, my Lord?” I ask breaking our silence. 

“It fares better now that a beautiful Targaryen Princess has graced its shores.” I blush at his words and avoid his eyes. “I’m sorry if that was too forward.” he says worriedly. 

“No, my Lord it’s okay.” I shake my head hoping my blush recedes.

“Please, call me Addam.” he hums as we turn and start our way up to the castle. 

My eyes dart around the castle as I take in its beauty. Guards and servants bow their heads to us as we enter. My head tilts up to take in the enormity of the hall and its ceilings. I look across the hall and can see the Blackwater crashing into the stony shore. He leads me up the stairs and looks both ways. 

“I must admit I’m still learning this castle.” he murmurs leading us right. “But I’ll be able to show you the best places in Hull and Spicetown with ease.” he smiles down to me. 

“We shall learn this castle together then.” I offer him a small smile of my own. 

“Here we are.” he stops in front of a large set of double doors with a guard standing sentry. 

“My trunks and bags?” I turn to him. 

“Are being brought up. I will go check on them. I’ll send a servant up to see to it your needs are met while I’m indisposed. Should you need me let your guard know and I will come at once. No matter how small the issue is, I will come.” Addams words a promise as he nods his head to me. I go to turn to slip into my chambers and he grabs my hand and places a soft kiss on it. 

I click my doors shut behind me and pray he didn’t see my cheeks catch on fire. Gods that man is so chivalrous. I look around the chambers and see how massive they truly are. I’m standing in what I assume to be the solar as there’s a large table with chairs and couches spread around a rug. I walk into the next room and gasp as I see the bed. The bed takes up an entire wall with stone pillars jutting up to the ceiling. There’s a small couch in front of a great hearth with fur hanging off the back. I peer through the next set of doors and smile at the sunken pool I have as a bath. I look out to the balcony and dip down to one of the chairs to soak in the salt in the air. 

“Princess,” I hear a woman’s voice come from inside my chambers. “Is there anything I can do for you?” the maid lowers her head. 

“Maybe some wine and a fire.” I ask softly not wanting to be too demanding already. 

“Of course, at once.” she nods her head and is out of the doors before I can even offer her thanks. 

I get up and walk back into the main room as my bags and trunks are trickling in. Maids start to unpack them at once and begin to hang my gowns. The first maid comes back with a glass of wine and a man trailing behind with wood. I thank the woman for the wine and the man who starts my fire. I thank the servants in my room and offer them leave. I wish to unpack myself and set out gowns for my upcoming days. 

I change into a fresh gown and peek out my doors. I close them behind me and the guard goes to follow me. I shake my head saying I’m just staying to the castle. My skirts flow behind me as I start around the corner. I go to turn another corner until I hear a couple of maids talking about Addam. 

“Can you believe he gave her the main chambers?” the first woman’s voice hushed. 

“You sound jealous.” the second woman scolds. 

“Of course I am. He lets her sleep lavish while he goes to the guest chambers. I heard she pouted the whole way here.” my heart beats at the insinuation that he gave away his chambers to me. I care not if they think I pouted, because I probably did.

“She just lost most of her family to war and now she’s being sent away from her remaining family to be wed.” one of them defends me and I decide I like her. 

“How terrible it must be to be a Princess of the realm and be forced to marry a handsome Lord who also rides a dragon.” I can hear the eye roll in her voice and I’ve had enough. 

“Did you watch your family get taken by The Stranger day after day?” I ask turning the corner. “Did you watch your family crumble to the ground around you? Tell me.” I cross my arms looking to her. 

“My Princess, I didn’t mean-“ 

“What did you mean then?” I cut her off narrowing my eyes at her before looking to the other who I recognize as the first woman to bring me wine.

“I just- I I’m sorry.” she lowers her head and scurries down the hall. 

“I’m sorry for her words, my Princess.” she dips her head.

“Thank you for defending me, what is your name?” I hum looking her over. 

“Cyerra, if you wish.” she keeps her head bowed. 

“Cyerra I would be honored if you would be my personal handmaid. I need someone headstrong and loyal and I fear I have no friends here.” my voice hushed as her eyes rise to mine. 

“You honor me.” her voice shakes. “I shall be your friend and anything you need.” she smiles. 

“Thank you, Cyerra.” I smile to match hers. “Does this place have a library?” she smiles even wider and I follow after her as she leads me through the winding stone halls. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

My first week on Driftmark has been going well. Cyerra keeps me company when I’m not roaming the library for a new book. Addam has been very sweet but has had a lot of meetings to deal with due to his new position.

“Do you ever go anywhere else?” Addams voice reverberates off the library walls and I huff and put my book down. 

“I go outside..” I trail off. “Sometimes.” he smiles and takes a seat next to me. 

“The people are curious about you, they wish to meet you.” he says softly as his eyes search mine. 

“What if they don’t like me?” my voice hushed. 

“How could they not?” he scrunches his brows. “Come, let me show you around Hull and maybe if you like it I can take you dancing.” his smile is infectious as I abandon the book and accept his hand as we exit the library.

As we exit the castle I feel as if everyone is staring at me. I lean into Addams side more and he looks down to me to offer me a comforting smile. We walk through the main gates and continue on into the crowd. People stop and talk to him and offer me warm smiles and welcomes. 

“This is where I grew up.” his voice soft as we enter into a different part of town. “It is my wish to focus on and help the people of this island. We may be formidable but we could use help.” he ushers me over to a stall with delicious smelling food. 

He offers the vendor more coin than this stick of meat is worth and hands it to me. I moan as the meat melts into my mouth. I eat another piece before offering him some. He shakes his head and I finish the rest not caring about the juices sliding down my fingers. 

“That was divine.” I lick my lips looking up to him with a smile. 

“Let me show you my favorite.” he smiles grabbing my hand and leading me to another vendor. This time it’s a smoked fish that is well seasoned and smoked. 

“Addam,” I moan as I take another bite. “I fear I’ll eat Hull dry.” I giggle as he wipes the side of my mouth. 

“There’s another delicacy we’re known for, but it’s not everyone’s favorite.” he leads me down the streets closer to the docks. 

I look at the small chopped up raw fish in front of me with vegetables and grains. I sniff it and look at Addam with raised eyebrows. He pops a piece into his mouth and blink at him in surprise. 

“You eat it raw?” my voice full of concern. 

“You’d be surprised at how good it is raw.” he hums bringing a piece to my lips. 

I sigh and accept the fish from his fingers. The texture throws me off but the flavors still burst through my mouth. I chew almost in question as I contemplate if I like it. 

“Not my favorite, but I don’t hate it.” I take another piece to try it some more as he chuckles softly. 

The sun slowly begins to drop behind the horizon as we stop at more vendors and I try new foods and drinks. We walk deeper into the city until we start to hear laughing and music. He pulls me into a tavern and it erupts into cheers as we enter. 

“Lord Addam!” they all cheer and clap as I look up to him admiring his smile. 

“You’ve finally blessed us with a glimpse of your beautiful Princess.” a man approaches and bows deeply to me. 

“That is unnecessary,” I shake my head with a smile. “There’s no need to bow to me.” the man rises with a smirk. 

“You’ve got yourself a sweet one.” he claps Addam on the shoulder before disappearing into the crowd. 

“A drink?” Addam smiles down to me and I nod. 

He leads us to the bar hands and encases me with his body placing both of his hands on either side of me on the bar top. I lean back into his chest enjoying the simple protection he’s offering me from the crowd. I don’t even focus on his words to the man and allow myself to shrink into him. 

“Did you hear me?” his voice is low as he dips down to my ear. 

“Hm?” I hum turning my head to him and blush at how close our faces are. 

“I asked if you wanted to go to a table.” I blink up to him still lost. 

He chuckles and grabs both of the cups by their handles in one hand. He turns us and keeps an arm around me as he pulls us to a back corner. He somehow manages to find us an empty table in the back and I take a sip from the cup he places in front of me. It burns as it goes down my throat and warms the entity of my body as I relax back into my seat. 

“What are you thinking about?” he hums from next to me. 

“How I could feel this warming me all the way down to my toes.” I raise my cup to him with a smile. 

“If you ever wish for me to help warm you up, just say the word.” his words playful. 

“Addam,” I gasp as my cheeks heat. 

“I jest,” he jokes but I can see the seriousness in his eyes. “I’ll get you hot enough when we dance you’ll be asking me to help cool you down.” his smirk is downright devious. 

“Is this your attempt to get me out of my gown before we wed?” a smile plays at my lips. 

“Is it working?” he licks his lips as he looks to mine as I tilt my head up to him before rising to meet his face. 

“Not in the slightest.” I kiss his nose and sit back down. 

“I don’t mind waiting.” he chuckles taking a sip from his cup. 

We drain our cups continuously teasing one another. I’m in a fit of giggles at his words when the music gets louder and starts to thrum through me. I look to the moving bodies and turn back to Addam. 

“I want to dance.” I pout my lips to him. 

He rises and pulls me up by both of my hands. Giggles spill from my mouth at my uneven feet and he’s quick to steady me. He shakes his head looking at me with lowered lids as he brings us to the moving bodies. His hands go to my waist and pull me close. I sigh resting my head against his chest as we begin to sway to the music. My hands roam across his back fueled by liquid courage. 

We dance and hold each other as if we’re the only people in this building. His hands squeeze at my hips every now and then reminding me of his delicious strength. We slowly pull apart and we take in each other’s heavy breathing. 

“It’s late, let me take you back to the castle.” he says lowly and I nod my head not trusting my voice. 

He gets us back to the castle in impressive time and is helping me navigate the stairs as I’m still on uneven feet. I giggle when he gives up guiding me and simply tosses me over his shoulder. His hands hold on at the back of my thighs and I squirm in his arms. He sets me down in front of my doors and looks down to me with a lazy smile. 

“The maids said you gave me your chambers.” I look up to him. 

“So what if I did?” he bites his lip. 

“You didn’t have to.” I murmur. 

“I’ll be moving back in soon enough,” he places a kiss on my forehead and opens the doors for me. He seals the doors shut and leaves me to our large apartments. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

I groan as Cyerra opens the curtains and lets in the early morning light. I kick the blankets off of me and stretch across the bed. She starts to revive the fire to ward off the chill and goes to my wardrobe to find appropriate attire for collecting shells and muscles. 

“Curse Addam for having me wake so early.” I groan wiping my eyes. 

“It’s not so early.” Cyerra chuckles bringing me over a pair of pants and a white billowy shirt. 

“Could you possibly get me some tea?” I rise from the bed stretching once more. 

“Of course, I can always have it brought up in the mornings if you wish.” she offers. 

“No no, that’s too much trouble.” I shake my head grabbing for the pants. 

“It’s not, my Princess. If it makes you happy.” Cyerra nods walking to the door. 

I sigh at how much she waits on me. I slip the pants on and walk around getting used to them. I rarely wear pants and they just feel so different. I pull the shirt over my head and push the sleeves up my arms. I step into my slippers cuffing my pants up and go sprawl on a couch in the solar. 

“Your tea, my Princess.” Addams voice comes into the room as he kneels before me and offers me my tea. 

“Why must everyone insist on waiting on me?” I playfully roll my eyes and accept the tea. 

“What a tragedy.” he shakes his head and sits next to me on the couch. “Are you ready for a day on the shores?” he hums placing my legs in his lap and massaging my calves. 

“I am, but I’m afraid I lack the proper footwear.” I rub my fur lined slippers. 

“Is this you asking me to carry you on the sands?” he leans his head back onto the couch and lets out a laugh at my face. 

“No, I expect a full covered litter with at least ten men carrying me.” I hum sipping my tea. 

“At once,” he chuckles rising and offering me his hand. 

I quickly finish my tea and discard the cup on the table. We’re bounding down the main stairs quickly. Addam pulls me along and soon we’re approaching the shores. We stop on the edge of the sands and he begins to remove his boots. 

“I won’t make you be the only one barefoot.” he tosses his boots to the side and I start to push off my slippers. “Ready?” he pulls me into the warm sand and my toes curl in. 

“It’s so soft and warm.” we continue to pad out to the water. 

Addam pulls me away from the workers so we don’t interrupt their flow. He’s brought a small basket with us to put our collection in. He falls to his knees near the water and waves me over. I look down and thank the Gods I’m wearing black pants before I shrug and kneel next to him. 

“This is where it gets fun.” he smiles and shoves his arms into the sand up to the elbow. When he heaves the sand back up there’s a bunch of muscles that he quickly grabs and tosses into the basket. 

“How do you know where they are?” I tilt my head as he places more shells into the basket. 

“You’ll feel them.” he nods encouragingly. “So hands open and pull up.” I bite my lip as start to emerge my hands into the sand. 

The sand is cold and damp as I plunge my hands in deeper. I don’t feel anything so I push my hands further down until my nose is practically touching the sand. My finger grazes a cold, slimy shell and I yelp pulling my hands out quickly causing me to fall back.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Addam is quickly hovering over me and smiles once he sees I’m laughing. 

“I didn’t know they would be so slimy.” I get out in between giggles as he helps me upright. “Let me try again.” I steady my breathing and plunge back into the sands. I give a small jolt when I feel them and I pull up quickly. 

“Very good.” his smile is genuine as he begins to pick out the shells. 

We dig in the sands for a while longer until we decide to stop and admire the water. We walk around the shore line allowing the water to lick at our heels. We stop and pick up rocks that catch our eye. As I pick up a particularly vibrant one his hands linger on mine as we examine it. As I look up to him I see that he’s staring at me and I blush pulling the rock into my hand. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to drone on.” I say looking down. 

“You weren’t.” my eyes lock to his. “I was just admiring you.” his words are soft as a snails spreads over his features. 

“Mm, and what were you admiring?” I tease pursing my lips. 

“Everything.” his eyes look to my lips before they flick back to mine. 

“Everything?” my tongue licks along my bottom lip and I see his eyes catch the movement. 

“I want to kiss you.” his face moves closer to mine. 

“I want you to kiss me.” he kisses me once the words leave my mouth. He pulls me closer deepening the kiss. My hands hold on to his back as he cups my face. His tongue dances with mine as we melt into one another. He pulls back as we both breathe heavily. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” he offers me a soft smile. “There’s a lot of things I want to do.” his voice low which stirs something low in my stomach. 

“Like what?” my voice still breathless but not from the kiss and he smiles knowing it. 

“You’ll find out soon enough.” he chuckles at my red cheeks. “You seem flushed. Shall we cool down in the water?” he scoops me up and runs us into the waves and I gasp as it splashes on us and he sets me in the water. 

“Addam,” I huff as the cold water seeps through my shirt. I push him back and he falls back into the water laughing loudly. 

“You don’t seem as flushed anymore, my Princess.” he hums as he stays below the water and starts creeping his hands up my sides. “Although, I made your shirt see through and it seems as if you’re too cold now.” he pointedly looks to my chest and I look down seeing my nipples pushing through the wet fabric. 

“Was that your plan?” I look down to him huffing with red cheeks trying to hide the smile on my face. 

“No,” he shakes his head trying to look anywhere but my chest. “You can use mine and hopefully it’ll cover you up a bit more.” he pulls off his shirt quickly and hands it to me. 

“You’re the only one here so I don’t mind.” I push his shirt back in his hands but don’t miss an opportunity to allow my eyes to linger on his muscles. 

“Are you admiring me?” his tone playful as he inches closer. 

“I am.” I nod my head as my hands spread across his toned stomach. “You are very handsome.” I hum as my hands slide up his chest. 

“How long until we’re wed?” Addams voice low as his hands grab mine.

“Just under a fortnight.” I look up to him. 

“Gods give me patience.” he mumbles before pressing his lips softly against mine. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

I lay awake in bed tossing and turning. I kick off the blankets and walk out to the balcony to see if the night air will help. The breeze kisses my heated skin and I sigh out. It’s times like this when I wish I had a dragon of my own to fly under the moonlight. I walk to the door and crack it open. 

“If Addam is awake, could you see if he could come here?” I ask softly. 

He turns the corner and I click the door shut behind me. I sit on the couch in the solar looking to the door waiting. There’s a quick knock and he’s slipping inside the doors. 

“What’s wrong?” he looks around the room and looks me over to make sure I’m unharmed. 

“I couldn’t find sleep.” I chew my lip. “I wanted to know if you could take me for a ride on Seasmoke.” I look up to him as he sighs in relief. 

“It’s cold out.” he looks over my simple night dress. 

“I’m hot.” I bring his hand to my forehead. “If not, could we walk along the shore?” I look up to him with pleading eyes. 

“You will let me at least put you in a cloak.” his lips turn upwards as he leads me back into the bed chambers to my wardrobe. 

“Are you ready to have your bed chambers back?” I ask taking the cloak he hands me. 

“Only two days left.” he hums pulling the cloak around me. 

I trail after him as he takes me to the shores. I try to take off the cloak multiple times but Addam will hear none of it. There’s a low whistle on the wind and Seasmoke lands on the sands in front of us. He walks up quickly and I curl into Addams side. Seasmoke tilts his head as Addam lets out a low chuckle. 

“He is truly more cat than dragon.” he rubs my shoulders trying to soothe me. “You’re going to scare her off.” Addam chides as Seasmoke burrows his snout into the sand huffing. 

“You speak the language well.” I hum watching him walk up to his dragon. 

“That means a lot. Thank you, my Princess.” he rubs Seasmokes neck and he seems to purr. 

Addam waves me over and I slowly walk to him. My hand slips into his as he brings it to rest on Seasmoke. The dragon leans into our touch and gives a soft chuff. Addam walks us over to his wing and nods at me to start climbing. I make my way up to the saddle and I feel Addam following close behind. We settle and Seasmoke has us launching into the skies. 

I lean back into Addam who holds me tightly from behind. Seasmoke circles us around the island and I sigh as the moonlight kisses our skin. The breeze flows through my hair and I close my eyes contented. Addam leans into me as we allow the skies to lull us into a dreamlike state. 

Seasmoke lands us on the barren shores before he shoots himself back into the skies. I slip the cloak off and lay it on the sands. I kneel down and lay back to look up at the stars. He joins me on the cloak and looks over to me. I turn my head with a smile spread across my face. 

“You’re supposed to look at the stars.” I purse my lips. 

“Mm, but I’d much rather look at you.” he turns on his side so he’s fully facing me. “You’re more beautiful than the stars.” he looks at me with pure devotion.

I lean in and press my lips against his. I melt into his touch as he rolls over on top of me. I pull him down to me to reunite our lips once more. I pull around his body trying to get him to press against me but he’s steadfast. I hook my legs around his waist and try to lure him that way but he just chuckles into my mouth as I’m just hanging off of him. 

“Addam,” I whine against his lips. 

“You’re gunna kill me.” he groans dipping down to capture my lips once more. He rolls back over onto his back and I turn over narrowing my eyes at him. “I can feel how hard you’re staring.” his chest moves up and down as he chuckles. 

“Do you not want to touch me?” he rolls his eyes as he turns to me. 

“You know that I want to touch you so very badly.” his voice low as he looks at me with dark eyes. 

“Do you?” I scoot closer to him. 

“Y/n,” his hand goes to my waist, his voice strained as I drape across his chest. 

“I can’t sleep because you’re all I think about at night.” I whisper against his lips. “I work myself up to the point where I get so hot it’s unbearable. It’s why I had you come to me tonight, I couldn’t take it anymore.” my voice barely a whisper as his fingers dig into my sides. 

“Then I’m just going to kiss you as you look at the stars.” he smirks as he flips us over once more. 

“Well how am I going to see the stars your head is in the way.” I giggle before he captures my lips and trails them down to my neck. I gasp as his tongue licks across my throat. 

“I’m gunna kiss you other places if that’s okay?” he pulls back and looks down to me and I nod my head quickly. 

He brings his lips back down to my neck and sucks softly on my pulse. I gasp as my hands grab onto his back. He trails kisses down over my night dress and peppers his lips across my covered breasts as I arch into him. He licks around my hardened nipples before continuing down my navel. I’m panting above him as I watch him move lower. His hands spread my thighs more as he settles between them. 

“Is this okay?” he looks up to me. 

“Yes, please Addam,” I feel my body hum in anticipation. 

He licks up my slit and my head falls back into the sand. My breathing is ragged as he swirls around my throbbing bud. My hips grind against his face as a moan tears through me. His tongue lashes against my bud as my legs shake around him. 

“Addam,” I mewl as he licks down to my core. 

He wraps his arms around my thighs to hold them open as his tongue licks at me feverishly. My hips roll onto his face as they seek pleasure. Whimpers fall from my mouth along with his name as I feel myself about to go over the edge. 

“Yes, please Addam,” I sob as I explode across his tongue. 

He continues to lick at me until my thighs are shaking before he slowly pulls back. He looks down at me licking his lips. His breathing is as equally as ragged as mine and we look to each other. He pulls my night dress back down and sits back. I sit up and squeeze my thighs together still feeling my release. 

“I hope my kisses were to your liking.” he smiles looking over my flushed body. 

“I think I might need kisses every night.” I smile nibbling my lip. 

“Then you shall have them every night.” he chuckles as he stands pulling me up with him and begin to make our way back to the castle. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

“You both make such a handsome couple.” Rhaenyra beams at us after the ceremony. 

“Thank you, mother.” I feel my cheeks blush at her words. 

“She pouted the whole week before coming here, you know?” she smiles to Addam who chuckles. 

“Oh, I believe it.” he pulls me into his side. “Look she’s even pouting at our wedding.” he pinches my cheek as I roll my eyes at him. 

“I’m happy for you.” she cups my cheek before she returns to her seat. 

“You look absolutely divine in this gown, my wife.” he whispers into my ear as he leads me to the dance floor. 

He pulls me against him and smiles down at me tenderly. The rest of the hall blurs as we sway around the room together. I rest my head against his chest as I hear his steady heartbeat beneath me. He wraps his arms around me and holds me tightly. I look up to him and he places a soft kiss on my lips. As the slow song comes to an end we continue to hold each other as more couples join us in the next dance.

Throughout the night guests come up to congratulate us and we offer them polite smiles. As the night grows late I begin to get restless wanting to finally get to enjoy my husband. When there’s only a handful of guests left we retire to our chambers for the night. 

“I’m really just excited to have my bed back.” his tone playful as he opens our doors. 

I roll my eyes at him as I brush past him and walk into our bed chambers. I hear the door thud shut and he comes behind me chuckling. He starts to unlace the back of my gown causing it to slide down. I turn to him only left in my slip as he soaks in my body. 

I reach out and start to unbutton his doublet. My fingers make quick work and I’m soon pushing it down his shoulders. He pulls his shirt off quickly and my eyes linger on his muscles. His fingers grip the hem of my slip and he has it over my head in seconds. His hands caress my sides before he cups my breasts. He looks to me as he starts to softly knead them. 

“You’re perfect.” he dips down to kiss me as his fingers brush across my nipples. 

I gasp into his mouth as his fingers offer pleasure to my sensitive peaks. He drinks down my noises as one of his hands travel between my thighs. I whine pulling back as he swirls his fingers slowly around my bud. 

“Addam,” my breath comes out in pants as his fingers coax pleasure through me. 

He dips a finger into my core and a loud moan falls from my mouth. He pumps into me as his thumb starts a rhythm on my bud. I rest my head against his chest as he slips a second finger into me. I cling to his arms as whimpers pour off my lips as he begins to curl his fingers. My legs clamp around his hand as pleasure washes through me with his name on my tongue. 

“Let’s go to the bed.” he hums pulling his hand from between my thighs. 

I make it to the bed on weak legs as he chuckles keeping his hands on my waist. I fall back onto the bed and watch him begin to unlace his pants. I sit up so I can fully appreciate his body. I reach out to him and he begins to crawl over me. 

“You’re sculpted by the Gods, husband.” I pull his lips down to mine. 

His tongue pushes into my mouth as we mend ourselves together. He presses his body against mine and I sigh at the feel of him. His hips roll into mine and I squirm at the feel of his hardened length against me. His tip brushes against my wetness and I buck my hips up. 

“Are you ready?” his breath fans across my chest as he lines himself up at my core. 

“Yes,” I pant watching as he sinks into me. 

My nails dig into his back at the stretch of him. He continues to push into me until he’s fully settled. The feel of him filling me has me gasping. I move my hips slightly and whine at the stretch. My muscles continue to relax around him and soon enough I’m rolling my hips into his waiting for him to move. 

“You just feel so good.” he rasps as he starts to slowly pump into me. When he pushes his hips into mine more rushed my breath catches. “I’m sorry,” he grunts trying to slow his hips. 

“No, faster,” I buck my hips into him whining. 

He groans as he snaps his hips into mine. Moans seep through my mouth as I start to lose myself to my pleasure. I cry out his name as I pulse around him and he groans slowing his movements. His breath comes out in pants as his hips start to move faster again. 

“Yes, yes Addam,” I feel my release coiling once more. 

He finds a rhythm that has me squeezing my eyes shut. The second his thumb brushes against my bud I burst around him. His hips stutter as I feel him begin to fill me. His breath fans across my face as we both try to calm our breathing. I shiver as he pulls out of me and cuddles into my side as my eyes flutter shut. 

“Don’t go to sleep yet, I haven’t given you your goodnight kisses yet.” my thighs clench remembering my request a couple nights ago as he slides down the bed and opens my thighs once more. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist 🔌 

this got out of hand and i’m not mad abt it

taglist ✍️ 

@clarityisnofun @callsignwidow @gabriella-aesthetic @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @anaviieiraaa @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @zanygot7straykidsbonk @thatgirl101blog @1-fuzzy-squirrels @hueanhdang

[youryurigoddess]

On love and sacrifices

There’s so much more to this scapegoating business and big sacrifices referenced in the Good Omens narrative than the literal goats. And they’re only getting bigger, louder, final.

But let’s take it slow and start with the beginning, quite literally — i.e., with the Good Omens 2 title sequence. As we follow Aziraphale and Crowley on their journey, the universe warps and their usual left and right side positioning switches during the magic show (not accidentally an act of trust and sacrifice required both from the angel and the demon). They stay so throughout the next scene, which is their little dance in the air, and after they seemingly get settled on the A. Z. Fell and Co.’s roof and back to normal, the flipped sky in the background suggests that something’s not quite right yet. In the central part of the shot looms a large, humanlike shadow of the Elephant Trunk Nebula.

The nebula is a part of a constellation called Cepheus, after an Ethiopian king from the Greek mythology who agreed to sacrifice his only daughter in order to appease the gods and end a local calamity started by her mother and his wife, Cassiopeia (talk about generational responsibility). With time and a delightfully ironic twist of fate, the name of said daughter, Andromeda, became more famous than that of her father. Although she was chained up to a rock and offered to the sea serpent Cetus, the girl was spotted by the warrior Perseus, casually flying over the sea — either on the back of the Pegasus or thanks to a pair of winged sandals — after his victory over Medusa. He fell in love on the spot, defeated the serpent (with the help of a magical sword or Medusa’s severed head, depending on the varying sources), and freed the princess. That’s not exactly where their story ends, but we won’t be getting into the rest here.

Not surprisingly, Neil has mentioned two parallel child sacrifice stories from the biblical context back in August. The first is one of the big ones — The Binding of Isaac. God's command to sacrifice Isaac, his only son, was a test of Abraham's faith. The angel of the Lord intervenes and provides a ram to be sacrificed in the boy’s place.

The second one isn’t nearly as popular, but you might have heard a variant of it in fairy tales or as the Law of Surprise invoked in The Witcher saga. In exchange for Israel’s victory over its enemies in battle, Jephthah had rashly promised God to repay the debt with the first thing seen on his return back home. The victorious warrior didn’t suspect to see his only child moving innocently "to meet him with timbrels and with dances" though. In horror, Jephthah covered his eyes with his cloak, but to no avail: ultimately, he was forced to honor his vow to God, and the girl was sacrificed. As grisly as it might look like in the Old Master’s paintings, it’s important to remember that human sacrifices weren’t limited to physical offerings only — Jephthah’s daughter might have been offered to God in the sense of officially shunning her family and dedicating her life to service instead, probably sequestered in a temple somewhere.

Interestingly, the main character of a big chunk of the Bible and the reason for the Second Coming happens to be THE most influential child sacrifice in the modern history. You know, a certain 33-year-old carpenter sent by his Heavenly Father to die on a cross for the sins of the mankind? Someone better call Aubrey Thyme ASAP.

Circling back to Aziraphale, he could be also seen as a representative of the concept of filial piety, since Eden willing to personally take a Fall not only for the humanity’s collective or individual transgressions, but the shortcomings of his Ineffable Parental Figure as well. Our favorite angel angel always fights for what is right and good, sure, but why would that be even a thing if God was truly omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent?

If Aziraphale’s medal is anything to go by, it looks like we might get an answer from the way it’s introducing another mythological narrative into the game, that is the story of Daedalus and Icarus. The most absorbing thing about this is the stark contrast to the recurring child sacrifice references for S3 mentioned in this post — Daedalus isn’t a father who wanted to sacrifice his son, it was his attempt to save him from imprisonment that ultimately drove Icarus to his death. The boy ignored his father’s explicit instructions, committing the grave and culturally universal sin of disobedience to one's parents that simply couldn’t go unpunished, one way or another.

But Icarus’s transgression could be seen both as high-flying ambition and striving for personal accomplishment as well as humanitarian sacrifice for knowledge and humanity’s advancement in general.

Similarly to a certain angel who left everything for what superficially seems like a work promotion, but is the ultimate act of love — both for his demon and the children they have been protecting and nurturing together for six thousand years. From the very Beginning, his white wings have been shielding everything he holds dear in this world.

[prickly-paprikash]

One of my favorite things about Denis Villeneuve's style is how utterly masterful he is at subtle storytelling. Using the visuals to tell a tale that, even when you don't figure it out explicitly, one feels it immediately.

In Dune Part 1, my favorite form of this is at the very beginning when the Herald of the Change arrives to formalize the transition of Arrakis' ownership from the Harkonnens to the Atreides. The procession is full of pomp and posturing, with the Herald speaking in this loud, bombastic voice just to announce what is already a given, and Leto responds with his own spectacle—the armies of Atreides, chanting as one. It's all a show, since at this point House Atreides has been commanded by the Emperor. The contract is a legal formality; the costly procession on Caladan was (un)necessary showmanship. In the books, showing off the illusion of power and authority is vital in maintaining this cruel, unyielding power system, and without bringing mention of it, the film shows this off too. Then, once the Duke has sealed the form with his signet ring, everything just... drops.

Leto looks at the Herald in the eye, and asks, "So, it's done?"

And just as Leto replied to the grandiose display of the Emperor, the Herald now replies with the levity the situation truly deserves.

"It's done."

Both the Herald and the Duke know what this truly is. It's not a reward. It's not a show of love. The Herald, at this moment, is looking at a dead man walking. Millions of their currency sunk into this process, barely five minutes in total, and all to simply declare it all "done."

You can even feel a sense of satisfaction from the Herald.

The Emperor, in his paranoia and envy, guided the hand of the Atreides into a trap. And the Atreides know it is their doom, but they have no choice. They are popular and loved by the Great Houses, but they are bound by honor. And bound by might.

And all of this, narrowed down into one brilliant scene.

Once again, this subtle, visual storytelling is in full display in Part 2, and my favorite by far happens on Giedi Prime.

The Bene Gesserit Sister, Lady Margot Fenring (who is also a Lady of her own House in the books), watches on as one of their prospects, Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha engages in ritual combat for his birthday. Afterwards, in a hallway lit by only the fireworks outside, she stalks the Harkonnen heir, and Feyd catches on immediately.

Here's the thing: barring other Sisters of the Bene Gesserit, Paul Atreides, and some very gifted Mentat Assassins—you will never know if a Sister of the Order is stalking you. From the beginning, she had wanted to be caught by him. A lure. A tantalizing bait, perfectly designed to entrap the feral Feyd.

And he sinks in immediately.

Here is where my favorite visual storytelling comes into play.

In the hallway, we begin with a fully covered Margot. She is veiled completely in shadow, with the oil fireworks illuminating only her visage.

Next, Feyd strikes and holds his blade to her neck, revealing her face. But only her face.

Slowly, the scene shows off little by little her skin. In the hall, I believe the most we see is her throat, and I could be mistaken. The light flashes erratically, and we see her the way Feyd must see her.

In the shadows, a threat. In the brief sparks of light, a curiosity.

And when Margot confuses him, leading him to the Guest Wing where she stays, the light fully shows her off. She's still in formal clothing, but now we see her dress. It reveals a plunging neckline that barely shows off the top of her chest. Her top is sleeveless, showing off her shoulders and the soft musculature of her arms. In the dark, we could clearly see her wearing a veil that covered her body.

And the light mimics her, stripping away and revealing something beautiful. Irresistible, especially to Feyd, who despite his high intelligence and skill, is just as brutal and animalistic as his uncle and brother. All three so easily give in to their vice, and Feyd is no different.

He is allured by her. He lusts after her.

And all this without a word hinting towards sex in their entire shared dialogue.

Just the use of light, shadow, and body to tell a story.

Afterwards, Margot speaks to the Reverend Mother and Princess Irulan, revealing that she has secured a child from Feyd in her womb, which again without saying anything specific immediately shows that the Sisters have such power over their own bodies that they can ensure fertilization and have complete knowledge over their pregnancy. They even control what sex the child will be, as alluded to in Dune Part 1 when Jessica, out of the love she had for Leto and his desire for a son, rebelled against the Bene Gesserit's orders and sired a male.

Again, without info-dumping, we immediately understand that this religious order engages in Eugenics, and uses sex, fanaticism, and more to control the Great Houses.

Please watch Dune. Please read Dune.

[erideights]

With my 6th sense. (1)

Pairing: Hunter x fem! jedi reader

Rating: this is the first chapter let's take it slow

Wordcount: 2.2K

Chapters: (2) (3) (4)* (5)* (*not posted yet)

Warnings and tags: use of (Y/N) but I keep it as minimum as possible tho my writing style is in 3rd person, so it's a bit difficult! apart from that none really, just introduction to the story, slight mentions of war maybe, but i can already tell you, this will be an ''i hate you-to-love you'' (calling them enemies doesn't really fit in)

Summary: (This story happens about around a year before The Bad Batch is introduced in The Clone Wars) Another day, another suicide mission for the squad. This time commanded by a jedi general they've never hear about.

A/N: I'm back after MONTHS with a new hyperfixation and no one can stop me. I'm jumping really late to TBB ship but I guess I would give it a try. Or write it for myself. As always, I'll make it a small series, and I hope all of you will enjoy it ♥ (my main language is not english so sorry if there are some mistakes)

Side note: PLEASE read the intro with the voice of The Clone Wars intro, thanks.

Coruscant!

In the aftermath of the Republic's recent defeat in the growing war in the outer rim, the Jedi Order finds itself at a crossroads, and generals such as Mace Windu, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and (Y/N) convene to strategize their next move in a desperate bid to stop the advance of the Separatist invasions. As they discuss their next course of action, each voice carries the weight of the galaxy's fate. For the Republic's survival hangs in the balance, and only through unity and courage can they hope to emerge victorious against the relentless onslaught of their enemies.

"Feels like they can predict our every move," Master Mace Windu exhales, his eyes glued to the holomap of the base, his hand thoughtfully stroking his chin. The dim light of the briefing room casts a stern shadow on his face, reflecting the gravity of the situation.

"And it's not just that," Obi-Wan interjects, his voice carrying a mix of frustration and concern. "During our last mission, Anakin and I encountered a new type of battle droid..." He sighs heavily, shaking his head as if trying to dispel the memory. His eyes narrow as he recalls the encounter. "This droid kept its distance, observing us while we dealt with all the others. By the time it engaged, it had analyzed, memorized, and adapted to our combat patterns. It knew exactly how to dodge our attacks and counterattack almost instantly."

"Are you serious?" (Y/N) asks, her brows furrowed in disbelief, crossing her arms over her chest. That sounds like a nightmare. Sure, a sniper could take it out from a distance, but up close? For them Jedi, trained in close combat, it could be a real pain in the ass.

"Yeah, and that's putting it mildly," Obi-Wan replies, his voice tinged with worry. "Anakin believes it's still in the development phase. The droid's assembly was far from perfect, almost like it was a prototype. But if they keep working on it, refining it... it could become a serious threat."

The room falls into a tense silence, so thick it almost feels suffocating. The three Jedi and Commander Cody, standing to Obi-Wan's right and always ready to offer some tactical advice, know what this means: if they want to halt the development of these new droids, or at least stay a step ahead, they need to steal the blueprints, and the Separatist droid blueprints are securely kept in…

"Looks like one lucky squad’s gonna have the great honor of infiltrating Serenno," the younger Jedi breaks the silence with a touch of sarcasm, tapping a few buttons on the holo-map to display the planet in question. Almost unexplored, impossible to get ships close enough to scan it completely.

"That’s too reckless," Windu comments immediately.

"It’s a suicide mission," Obi-Wan agrees.

"It’s risky, but not impossible."

"You spend way too much time with Anakin."

"Actually, Anakin spends too much time with me," she corrects with a playful smirk, crossing her arms again and leaning back against one of the control panels behind her.

"If I may…" Cody interjects, stepping forward and nodding to formally request the floor. Windu acknowledges him with a nod of his own. "A mission like this needs a small team. No more than four or five soldiers, with one of you leading. And I know just the squad for the job."

"The 501st?" Windu asks, his brow raised, well aware of the battalion’s formidable reputation.

"No," Cody shakes his head, his helmet tucked under his left arm. "Clone Force 99. I've worked with them before. They’re elite commandos, defective clones with desirable and really convenient mutations. Their success rate on high-risk missions is 100%."

"But...?" (Y/N) catches a deep, well hidden hint of hesitation in the commander's voice and refuses to let it slide. She raises an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side to scrutinize him closely.

"But," Cody clears his throat, aware of how his words might sound for the Jedi, "let’s just say they’re an unconventional squad. Their methods don’t exactly mesh well with captains, commanders, or generals who aren’t flexible or willing to...improvise on the fly, or disregard orders from above."

"That description sounds vaguely familiar," Obi-Wan remarks, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he blatantly turns his head to look at her. She purses her lips and shrugs, as if the comment had nothing to do with her peaceful persona.

"I just like being practical, and let’s be honest, plans usually never work out as we would like them to. Following orders isn’t always the best option on the table when the situation becomes a life or death type of scenario."

"I think we’ve found the perfect person to lead this mission," Obi-Wan concludes, a knowing smile spreading across his face.

(Y/N) and Obi-Wan then turn their gaze towards Windu, who appears to be deeply pondering the situation. It’s a dangerous mission, far too dangerous. Infiltrating Serenno could be compared to a Separatist squadron trying to infiltrate Coruscant right now. Reckless, not worthy at all. And even though she has proven her capabilities time and again, earning the respect of the Jedi Council since before she was knighted, this exceeds the usual risks they take. But at the same time, if they don't do it, they could lose more than just a squad—and with bad luck, a Jedi.

"Go ahead," Windu finally says, his tone decisive.

"Great, infiltrating the heart of enemy territory is always my favorite kind of mission," she quips, a hint of sarcasm in her voice, a smirk tugging at her lips.

...

"I had no clue there were defective clones out there," Obi-Wan remarks, arms folded, his gaze scanning the distant skyline of Coruscant from the base.

"Me neither, but the whole idea of working with a bunch or weird, mutant clones sounds fascinating," (Y/N) replies without missing a beat, a spark of excitement lighting up her eyes as she contemplates leading such an unconventional mission. She's still one of the few Jedi without a permanent legion or squad under her command, always bouncing from one assignment to another, going wherever she's needed as reinforcement. A bit like the 99, Cody thinks, observing both Jedi with a smile playing on his lips.

"You're about to find out just how interesting they can be, General."

And as if his statement was a cue and they were living in a movie, a shuttle rockets onto the landing pad, causing chaos among the ground crew. Its engines roar as it touches down, sending crates of military gear flying through the air like confetti at a parade.

"Someone just lost their flight rights." She mutters, a wide grin spreading across her face. Obi-Wan -ever so subtle- smirks beside her, wondering which of those so-called elite defective clones managed to botch a landing so badly. Did they miss their flying lessons?

The ramp of the shuttle, which she discovers it's heavily customized now that she can take a better look at it, slowly lowers, revealing four individuals waiting to come out, each more particular than the last. Their armor, adorned in black and red, seems customized to what (Y/N) guesses are their individual strengths and quirks.

The first one down the ramp, still wearing his helmet, glances around as if assessing the potential damage done to the landing pad. From his body language alone, she would expect him to be the genius who managed that landing. What she doesn’t expect, though, is his face under the helmet. Actually, none of theirs.

"Well, they certainly don’t look like clones," Obi-Wan comments a bit louder than intended, but he's right. They all share a distant resemblance to the regular clones—maybe like... distant cousins—but if they weren’t in the army, you’d never guess they were clones at all. Each one of them is… unique, and they’ve already piqued (Y/N)’s curiosity even before a proper introduction.

"Commander," one of them greets Cody as soon as the squad reaches them, raising a hand to shake his own. His long, dark, wavy hair is already distinctive enough, but his tattooed face really adds to his intimidating persona. He truly looks like someone who could kill you in a matter of seconds if he wanted to. 

"Good to see you, Sergeant. It’s been a while. This is Jedi General (Y/N)," Cody introduces her, and she nods at them with a charming small smile plastered on her face. "She'll be leading this suicide mission and will be your only reinforcement this time."

It might just be her imagination, really, but she could swear the clone Cody referred to as sergeant is not exactly happy with the sudden news about the mission’s command. Feeling as if a speeder had just run over her a thousand parsecs per hour, and judging by the way he suddenly looks her up and down to the speed of light, silently analyzing her, she'd say this strong feeling of rejection she perceives through the Force, comes from him.

Awh, she didn’t even open her mouth yet and she’s already made a new friend. How cute.

"General," he nods politely, like any good soldier would have done, but with this… noticeable detachment in his manner. "Sergeant Hunter of Clone Force 99. These are Tech, Wrecker, and Crosshair." He introduces his team one by one, each giving the Jedi a quick glance and a nod.

‘’Let me guess,’’ she starts, biting the inside of her cheek before pointing with one of her right fingers to each one of them. ‘’you’re fast and probably have better sight or hearing. You, on the other hand, are the smart one.’’ The jedi refers to Tech, who is clearly and unashamedly the brains of the squad. Those glasses and the datapad he constantly checks? A walking stereotype. He nods in agreement, tho, while Hunter tries to roll his eyes without being noticed. And miserably fails, but she doesn’t pay attention to it. ‘’You’re the strong one, and you’re the sniper.’’ And she’s sure she doesn’t need to point out why, how, she knows that; the target tattoo around his eye blatantly giving him away.

"Wait, you're a Jedi?" Wrecker, the burliest of the group and seemingly the cute, dumb one, asks with a hint of disbelief as he eyes her hair and attire. She quickly realizes that her dark and tactical outfit—cargo pants, military boots, a snug top with protective padding on her shoulders and a tight vest—doesn't exactly scream "Jedi." But she's always been more comfortable on the front lines than behind the clones she commands, and a robe would just get in the way during a fight. Obi-Wan's still not happy about that.

"Yeah, last time I checked," she replies with a smile, his enthusiasm infectious as she meets Wrecker's gaze. His expression widens, as happy and excited as a kid in a candy store.

"Isn't that awesome, Sergeant? We're gonna see some of those Force tricks up close," Wrecker adds eagerly, nudging his fellow clone.

"Yeah, awesome," Hunter mutters, seemingly uninterested in the conversation as he quickly changes the subject. What's his problem? "So, General, what kind of death trap are we heading into this time?"

"I'll fill you in on all the details on our way; the journey will be long," She answers, shrugging nonchalantly, her hands clasped behind her back.

"Then let's get going!" Wrecker exclaims again, and his whole squad follows him back to the shuttle after a quick farewell to Cody. (Y/N) can't help but notice the way the proclaimed sergeant's eyes lingered on her for just a couple seconds before turning away, wondering about the coldness she feels emanating from him towards her. If their paths had crossed on another mission, she would have remembered, and even so, she's always the life of the party on any mission! She might take offense if she wasn't used to not fitting in even among her own. At least, she tells herself as she exhales a soft sigh, he's attractive, so she'll deal with the mission and his shitty attitude by enjoying his pretty face as a reward for her outstanding patience.

"You're staring," Obi-Wan scolds her under his breath, witnessing their previous interaction, giving the younger Jedi a gentle elbow nudge.

"Being a Jedi means not getting attached, not gouging your eyes out and depriving yourself of good views," she responds without missing a beat, smiling charmingly at him. She's so cheeky, Obi-Wan thinks to himself, exactly like her old master, Kit Fisto.

"Ah, -I completely forgot-, wait!" The Jedi calls out to Clone Force 99, causing everyone to freeze and turn to look at her. "Before we go, you guys need to change your clothes."

The clones look at each other, confused. Wrecker is the first to speak up. "What’s wrong with our gear?"

She steps forward, arms crossed. "Nothing if you want to stick out like a rancor in a china shop. We're going undercover."

Hunter narrows his eyes slightly, not exactly liking what he just heard. "And what exactly do you suggest, General?"

She smirks, his reluctance kinda funny to her. "Something a bit less... militaristic. Follow me, I'll show you where you can get changed."

Wrecker shrugs, clearly unfazed. "As long as I don't have to wear a dress," he jokes, eliciting a low chuckle from Crosshair. ''those never have pockets, and I need to carry some grenades.''

Hunter, on the other hand, remains stoic, his gaze fixed on the jedi, his now general during this mission. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, maybe even distrust—but he nods. "Lead the way."

And as they do as being told, Obi-Wan falls into step beside her. "You sure about this?"

She nods, her expression determined. "Absolutely, what could go wrong?"

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Anonymous asked: Because you allowed me to request on your blog so I'm just thinking a lot last day to request a yandere kny like hashira and upper moon & muzan I just thought what if someone came to their place that was a spirit like in date a live I don't know if you've seen that but if you do what will they do if they meet the one who create the spirits/orginitor and when they find out the reader has a source of powerful spirits they don't think. twice when they all fights where she should stay with Hashira or Demons. That's all sorry if it's a bit difficult for you but you can research in the Google (date a live orginirator Mio takamiya) you will find it there and thank you again for allowing me to request you have a nice day and stay healthy.

Spirit Originator Reader | Yandere Demon Slayer

As a spirit originator, you’re overwhelmed with power allowing you to create spirits with powers of mass destruction. Your clothes alone can protect you without even raising your hand. Your only weakness–is your sadness. Pulled by the woeful sadness of being unable to end it yourself it only gives you two options. 1) To fill an underdeveloped world with your daughters of destruction or 2)To use your power to protect humanity from the growing threat of Muzan Kibitsuji: 

The Hashiras 

They’ll have to find you before you start producing spirits

Hopefully catching your fading attention 

Not to mention how obsessed they are 

But in terms of power, they are no match for you

So force is not an option

They can only wish that you’ll stay and let them worship you

Literally working to carve out a safe haven as you live out the quiet life

The hashiras are all the more insistent on bringing Muzan’s reign to an end

Their honored if you decide to help the cause 

But they won’t pressure you

They want to keep you happy, so that you don’t destroy the world so that you’ll let them serve you wholeheartedly.

“My children are more than happy to serve you. We all are.”

Upper Moons

If you’ve already created the spirits

Muzan sends them in his own intrigue

A powerful being that doesn’t value human life

You sound as though you’re one in the same

But where the hashiras realize their hubris in trying to control you

He does not

He thinks you equals he thinks he’s more powerful

So he’ll send his eager minions to pursue you and your spirits

And even without their master’s command 

The upper moons are fixated on having you 

On owning you

They hope to one day see you’re glowing powerful visage be reduced to someone eagerly bowing at their feet

A sentiment you probably won’t take kindly to if Muzan rubs you the wrong way

“Come (Y/n), join us peacefully. I have no doubt we’d work perfectly together.”

[mj-iza-writer]

idk if you take requests but like Consider this pet whump,,

A wolf-hybrid (like those dogboys) Whumpee that Whumper conditioned and trained into a lapdog but also guard-attack dog,and since they're wolf, a hunting animal, people think that they'll just attack them yeah? Wrong. Whumpee doesn't maul until commanded to.

And just meeting Caretaker, someone older yet scared of them, bc thry have a fear of wolves, and thinks that Whumpee will kill them but then Whumpee just hits with

"Oh don't worry! I'm domesticated and trained, I won't attack you :3"

Like its the most normal thing, and they have a muzzle and collar...

Caretaker also probably doesn't know about Whumper, so its even funnier

Yes I absolutely take request. Thankyou so much.

Warnings: killing, mentions of main character dying. They survive. Hybrid human wolf pet.

**GRRR**

Whumper frowned when they heard that growl.

"What is it pet?", Whumper asked while they turned.

They looked up just in time to see a gun pointed at them. The assailant? No one Whumper knew.

"Whumpee protect!", Whumper ordered.

Whumpee quickly went into protection mode. They leaped forward, then charged.

The gun sounded. Whumper heard Whumpee scream.

They watched as Whumpee continued to charge the assailant. They turned and ran inside to grab their gun.

'Why didn't I have this on me', they yelled at themself.

"Whumpee off", they ordered as they ran back out and aimed the gun.

Whumpee jumped away and fell to the dirt.

Whumper's gun went off... the assailant slumped to the ground.

"Whumpee?", Whumper stepped over to them, "shit", they frowned as Whumpee struggled to get up. Blood poured from a bullet wound in Whumpee's shoulder.

"Whumpee, I'm sorry, but that isn't fixable. You are no good to me like this", Whumper stated matter of factly, "and after all the money I've spent on you. What a waste."

"I-I thought I was your good puppy... Master", Whumpee whispered as they looked down, "you said that last night while y-you were petting me. Was it a lie?"

"No it wasn't a lie, but it's not about you being good. It's about you being useful. You can't receive rewards like being pet and receiving treats, and being on my lap if you can't serve me", Whumper frowned.

"But" Whumpee looked down sadly, "I just saved you."

"And?" Whumper looked at them with agitation, "that was your job. You did it, and now you're wounded.... useless.

Whumpee was served a final dinner. Two raw chicken breasts and a cut of steak from Whumper's dinner.

Whumpee slowly ate... they knew what was coming next.

Whumper forced a muzzle on Whumpee, then attached a leash to their collar.

"May... May I take my chew rag?", Whumpee looked over at the only toy they had been given.

Whumper nodded as they loaded their gun.

Whumper took the rag and stuffed it into Whumpee's mouth, then rubbed something on their nose before putting the muzzle back on.

The door opened... before Whumper could reach down for the leash Whumpee ran.

They ran as fast as their body could go.

"Get back here... I'm giving you an honorable death... you fucking....", Whumper yelled as they shot off two rounds after Whumpee.

"Crap", Whumper screamed when the gun only clicked.... signaling the gun was empty.

Off Whumpee ran into the trees. Completely hidden from view.

Whumpee ran for miles before remembering again that they had been wounded earlier.

They leaned up against the tree and took some deep breaths. Whumper did them in with forcing the rag into their mouth. They couldn't pant to cool off, and they wouldn't be able to drink water.

They tried to sniff, but nothing was coming through.

'What did they rub on my nose, I can't smell anything', Whumpee frowned, 'I won't survive for long. I can't hunt or eat, I can't drink. I can't even regulate my body temperature. Maybe I should have let them kill me. I'm not ready to die, I can't die. I will find someone, and I will be useful. I'm a good pup.'

Whumpee struggled to get up, they crawled a few feet and collapsed again.

"Ymph", Whumpee moaned weakly. They looked down at where the wound was, 'they couldn't even patch me up before killing me', Whumpee mumbled, 'I'm so tired.'

Caretaker, a avid outdoor lover, had wandered into the woods for some tree therapy. They just wanted to enjoy a small hike.

They had one rule... always carry a gun.

Whumpee woke up, and looked around. Remembering where they were.

They got up weakly and limp-crawled forward.

Their throat had become so dry. The rag was soaking up all of their saliva. It had also made swallowing a challenge.

Finally, they found a small stream. They tried to sniff it, but whatever Whumper had rubbed on them must have taken away their ability to smell.

They now couldn't tell if the water was safe to drink. They sat down in annoyance and looked at the water sadly.

'I might truly die out here', Whumpee whimpered.

Just then, Whumpee noticed a visitor come into the clearing by the stream.

Caretaker looked over the view until they noticed two eyes staring at them.

Caretaker looked at them wide-eyed as they took in their appearance.

They appeared to be one of those hybrid wolf pets. A few of their hunting friends had mentioned. They said they could be quite dangerous if cornered.

Whumpee's furry ears moved in every direction as they took in the situation. Their nose wrinkled as they sniffed the air to no avail.

"Where is your Master?", Caretaker lifted their gun, believing the poor person had been seriously injured or killed by the hybrid. They had clearly run away. Their leash and muzzle were still attached after all.

Whumpee cowarded away and whined as the gun was pointed at them. They looked sadly at the stranger.

The movement caused Whumpee to quickly reach up and hold their bullet wound. They looked over their hand for a split second and saw the fresh blood.

"Wait... you're bleeding", Caretaker lowered their gun, "what happened?"

Whumpee looked up at them sadly.

"Maybe hybrids can't talk", Caretaker sighed, "I feel like I should.... do you promise not to attack me if I help you?"

Whumpee quickly and enthusiastically nodded.

"Okay", Caretaker inched nervously to Whumpee. Their hand shook as they unlocked Whumpee's muzzle.

Whumpee quickly moved their head away from the muzzle and spit out their rag.

Caretaker studied Whumpee. They seemed to have a small dog shaped mouth, and as they started to pant to cool off, Caretaker saw their teeth.

"I-I won't hurt you", Whumpee whispered hoarsely, "I am well trained. I only attack when ordered."

"Where is your Master then?", Caretaker frowned as they pulled out a container of water, "are you thirsty?"

Whumpee quickly nodded again. They took the bottle as it was offered.

"Thankyou so much", Whumpee sighed in relief.

"My Master trained me as an attack wolf. Though it goes against the nature of us hybrids", Whumpee looked down at their wound, "earlier someone came onto my Master's property to kill them. I was ordered to protect and took a bullet before they could kill the assailant. With my injury, my Master was going to kill me. I received my last meal, they strapped that muzzle on me. Took it off to give me my toy", Whumpee paused and held up the rag, "they then rubbed something on my nose. When they opened the door, I made a run for it. They shot two rounds at me, but missed. They couldn't even patch me up before they killed me."

Caretaker listened, then nodded, "I-I'm sorry, I was accusing you of hurting your Master."

"It's okay. I-I wasn't ready to die. They made me work for love and attention. I was only a good pup when I did my job well. I didn't even get told that after being shot. I was just told that I'd served my purpose, and that I'd be dying", Whumpee for the first time that day let a tear fall, "I-I didn't want to die, I want to be someone's good pup."

Caretaker frowned, "I think the first thing is to get you out of here. I think I know where the lab is that creates you hybrids. My friends talk about it. I don't know where else to take you, so we will start there."

Whumpee nodded and tried to get up. They winced as weight went on their shoulder.

"Would it be better if I carried you?", Caretaker looked them over, "I think I'll be able to."

Whumpee nodded and watched as Caretaker packed the bottle, muzzle, and their chew rag into a bag. They lifted Whumpee to their shoulders and grabbed their gun.

"I have no idea what will happen if we see your Master though", Caretaker took a few steps.

"They wouldn't come out this far to find me", Whumpee sighed, "apparently I am now considered their expensive waste of time. They probably looked for a few minutes and gave up. They pretty much did me in anyways", Whumpee whispered.

"What do you mean?", Caretaker started to walk quickly after they found the trail.

"With that rag in my mouth and the muzzle, I wouldn't have been able to hunt or eat. The rag also soaked up saliva, and I couldn't pant. So starvation and heatstroke. They also rubbed something on my nose to take away my smelling abilities. Again I couldn't hunt, but I couldn't smell for clean water. So dehydration. Or you know some stranger comes across me and shoots me."

Caretaker looked at them sadly, "sorry about that."

"I don't blame you... I'm just saying. I could have easily died if you hadn't found me and showed mercy", Whumpee whispered tiredly, "I think the blood loss is getting to me again. I'm so tired."

"Help.. help", Caretaker ran into the lab.

"Woe... Woe. What's going on?", a scientist caught Caretaker by the arm. Several guards rushed to protect.

"Outside.... hybrid... injured.... needs help", Caretaker gasped for air. Whumpee ended up falling asleep again. They were unconscious by the time Caretaker made it to their car.

The scientist hurried out the door with Caretaker.

They frowned when they saw what shape the hybrid was in.

"I recognize them", the scientist rubbed Whumpee's head sadly, "I hope we are not too late", they lifted Whumpee out of the vehicle and took them inside.

While Whumpee was being worked on, Caretaker told a nurse about everything that had happened and what Whumpee had told them. They also showed the muzzle and rag.

The scientists came into the lounge where Caretaker had been asked to wait.

"I don't know how you did it... but you got them here before it was too late. We had maybe five minutes to spare before intervention would have done nothing. They need a lot of care and TLC, but I really appreciate you finding them", the scientists carried the notes from what Caretaker had said, "I've read through these. I will be pressing charges against their previous owner for their use of my creation."

"I feel so bad... I've heard so many scary things about these hybrids... I almost shot them", Caretaker frowned worriedly, "I thought they had done something to their master."

"There are a lot of people who don't understand these hybrids that I create. About the most dangerous thing about them is that they are good hunters. And a lot of people love to have them as hunting pets. Other than that, they are giant couch potatoes that love cuddling and playing with toys. It hurts that the only toy they had received was an old rag. What that person did goes completely against the contract they sign when they purchase a hybrid."

Caretaker looked at them, "what is this contract about."

"It protects me as the creator, but also the hybrid. They would have had to sit through a two hour lecture with me on how to care for one of them. The contract at the end has everything that was covered during that lecture. Some of which explains that they are not to be an attack or guard dog. They are domesticated and not made to do that type of work. You can not shoot them. Any purposefu damages done to them will be legally tried as both animal abuse and human assault. I have enough to lock them away for good."

Caretaker visits Whumpee with a surprise a few days later. A brand new toy, the first Whumpee has had since being taken by Whumper.

Caretaker is with Whumpee when Whumper comes in.

They received a call that Whumpee was found and needed to come to the lab. Whumper thought they were going to collect Whumpee, then would off them later.

They were surprised to walk in and be instantly taken by guards, then arrested by the police.

Whumpee prances out of a hiding spot as Whumper is being stood up. They smile big as Whumper starts cursing at them.

Caretaker pats Whumpee's head lovingly as Whumper is led away.

"I'll see you in court", the scientist frowns as Whumper is led out of the building.

"You're free from them, Whumpee", the scientist grins at Whumpee.

Around a month later.

"Hey, I was wondering, I've been coming and visiting Whumpee for a little while now. What will be done with Whumpee now?", Caretaker sat beside the scientist, and they both watched Whumpee play with their toys.

Whumpee stopped and looked up.

"Well unfortunately they may be a hard adoption to another owner because of the injuries and what their recent owner did to them. I don't think anyone will want a hybrid with guard like tendencies", the scientist sighed as Whumpee limp crawled to them and rested their chin on the scientist's knee, "I'm afraid they'll be here for a while."

Caretaker watched as Whumpee continued to lean on the scientist's knee.

"It's honestly a shame, these are so ready to become someone's pet. They train so hard for the one thing that they want... a loving family", the scientist patted Whumpee's head and watched as a tear ran down Whumpee's face, "they'll of course get love and attention here no doubt, but they're made to be a companion for someone, not just taken care of in a lab."

"What would I have to do to be able to take them from you, and give them a home?", Caretaker watched as Whumpee's head jumped up.

"I suppose I would need you to have the lecture and sign the contract", the scientist smiled weakly, "I won't make you pay. I will get everything I need from this lawsuit against Whumper. Are you sure though?"

"Yes, Whumpee has grown on me. I went from being terrified of these hybrids to falling in love with them", Caretaker winked at Whumpee, "I would be okay with the lecture and contract. If you're okay with this Whumpee."

Whumpee quickly nodded.

A few weeks past. Caretaker had finished the lecture and signed the contract. Their home was approved to have Whumpee live their. They had plenty of time to get Whumpee all kinds of surprises to come home to.

Whumpee was released that day. They were finally given a medical discharge from the lab. Only that they needed to keep their appointments now. Something Whumper never did.

Whumpee rode home in the back seat of Caretaker's car. They happily stuck their face out to take in the smells in the wind.

Finally after a while they pulled into a small neighborhood.

Whumpee looked out excitedly.

"This is the neighborhood that I live in", Caretaker smiled at them in the mirror, "a few neighbors are excited to meet you, but they'll give you a few days before hand to get settled."

Whumpee jumped out of the car and quickly sniffed around the yard.

They looked up at Caretaker happily, "my old Master didn't have grass. This feels so good."

"I'm glad to hear you say that", Caretaker grinned, "are you ready to go in?"

"I-I can go inside?", Whumpee studied Caretaker to see if they were telling the truth.

"Yes of course. Where you not allowed to before?", Caretaker unlocked the door and opened it.

"Only on special occasions", Whumpee shyly looked into the home from the edge of the doorway.

"I have a special surprise in the living room for you, but you can take your time", Caretaker smiled, "I know this is all so new."

Whumpee sniffed around the home for a little while. Caretaker let them adventure on their own.

Whumpee found Caretaker in the kitchen.

"How are you enjoying your new home?", Caretaker showed them a bowl, "are you hungry? I got lunch ready while you looked around."

Whumpee nodded excitedly. They followed Caretaker to some bowls on an elevated surface.

"There we go", Caretaker smiled as Whumpee started to eat.

"I'll be out in the living room right through there", Caretaker pointed, "your surprise is in there."

Whumpee looked up and nodded before going back to eating.

Whumpee peaked into the living room when they finished and immediately saw the gifts Caretaker had mentioned.

A new dog bed and several toys littered the floor. Caretaker had looked over from folding a blanket.

"Oh there you are", Caretaker smiled as they laid the blanket on the bed, "I hope you like all of this. You can, of course, be on the furniture. I'm putting another bed in my room as well. I'm waiting for it to be delivered."

Whumpee cautiously looked at all of the things. They stepped closer and sniffed everything.

"What do you think of it all?", Caretaker knelt on the floor and patted Whumpee's head, "do you like it?"

"Ye-yes Master... I've never had any of these things", Whumpee felt a tear fall from their eye, "this... it feels like a dream. One that I secretly hoped for, for so long."

"This isn't a dream, I promise. You will be so spoiled, even more than what they recommended. I'm so excited to have you here", Caretaker smiled as they scratched Whumpee's ears, "you're a good pup, and deserve so much."

Whumpee felt a tear role down their cheek when they heard those coveted words.

That night, Caretaker had pulled the dog bed onto the couch. Whumpee now lay on top of that. Their head on Caretaker's lap.

They laughed at Whumpee's snoring.

Caretaker gently massaged Whumpee's neck under their new collar.

They took a picture and sent it to the scientist.

The scientist texted back a little after.

"I'm glad you took them home... I was hoping you would ask, but I didn't want to put you on the spot like that. I thought you'd be a good fit. They look happy. Exactly how I hoped this would happen for all of my babies. Let me know if you need anything."

Caretaker happily continued to pet Whumpee's soft fur until they to fell asleep.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @sunglasses-in-the-bentley

@isikedmyself878

[canonsinthehead]

One Piece Headcanons - One Piece Fan Letter's Brother & More

Let's finally put words and these two magnificent Marine Brothers along with some headcanons. Dinner is ready!

Older Brother

Name: Gina D. Morino

Birthplace: South Blue

Age: 32 yo (DO NOT call him old, he hates it and he’s not)

Marine Rank: Master Chief Petty Officer

Favorite Food: His favorites fruits are Mangoes and Bananas (because monkey love bananas apparently). He has a weakness for sweets and parfaits but barely consume them to stay in shape. Meat (especially Grilled Beef or Lamb) in the honor of his favorite pirate

Least liked Food: Cranberries and he hates any types of pasta and tomato meatball sauce because one day he had to clean up his brother vomit after getting drunk and they just ate that very meal. The disgusting smell and pool of digested food on the floor forever turned him off from this meal.

Typical older sibling syndrome, when he was younger his parents put a lot of “you must show the example! You are the first-born!” type of pressure.

Back in elementary school up until high school, he had to take ballet classes (under the order of his parents) when his younger brother could choose whatever he wanted to do as extracurricular activities. He changed it every week or so and their parents folded EVERYTIME.

Still enjoys dancing but keeps it to himself because it was often used as a nasty joke (Do you know my big bro loves to dance?! Come on show us!!!! Hahahaha you should be in a band!). The reason why it bothers him so much is because he despises when someone’s passion (no matter what it is) is not taken seriously or mocked/ridiculed.

He is taller and never mentions the fact that his arrogant little brother is wearing height lengthening insoles to make both of them the same height. The younger often brags when he appears a little taller. Gina refrains from mentioning the truth because his brother is insecure about his height

Has a Luffy shrine in his bedroom in a shoe box he hides under his bed.   

Everything he eats turns into 10 pounds of fat if he’s not careful contrary to his brother who can inhaled gallons of food and not gain a single pound.

Always loses at card games against his younger brother

Single and never being in a relationship. If he gained 1$ every time his parents asked when he’ll get married, he would be richer than all celestial dragons combined.

Currently operates in New Marineford but would love to work and discover the East Blue (Luffy birthplace)

his brother clown him for having a “feminine name”

Favorite Marine: Gets along with Koby well. Female higher-ups won’t leave him alone. He is working under Tashigi’s leadership, but she recommended him to Tsuru who agreed to further his training and possibly promote him since he made so much improvement. Bel-Mère can’t contain her laughter “You’re so popular with the ladies!”

Least Liked Marine:

Borsalino. He is not forgiving him for almost killing him with his beams of lights.

Akainu & Greenbull: With all that happened to him recently, his stance on the Marine, pirates and the world are changing but those two men’s narratives are too much in his opinion and negative in the long term.

Likes Pinkpantheress

Younger Brother

Name: Clovis D. Morino

Birthplace: South Blue

Age: 28 yo

Marine Rank: Lieutenant Commander

Favorite Food: He loves Strawberries and swears Rhubarb is the greatest thing ever (everyone ignores him). Seafood boil enthusiast and Sandwich Lover, it doesn’t matter what’s inside of it.

Least liked Food: Hate greens and almost pukes at the sight of them, his brother thinks he need to grow up.

He received the typical youngest sibling favoritism, and it got to his head.

Favorite Activity to do with his brother: Challenging to anything (like races, arm wrestling, push-ups and loses 90% of the time but ALWAYS bring up how it’s the only time his older brother can win and how he’s better than him at life blah blah blah...,). One thing they agree on is their love of collecting and analysis wanted/bounty posters. They are geeks about it and is always trying to learn about what going in the world of piracy even if “the pirates are bad, and we are the good marine”

Had many girlfriends but struggles to stay faithful and often uses his marine rank to get his way with the ladies. Gold Medal Womanizer.

Biggest dog fan while his brother is a rodent (rabbit, Guinea pig, Hamster & Capybara) type of guy

For unknown reason, mobs of pigeons have an affair with him and often chase him, he stopped fighting it when he learned that birds pooping on you meant great luck and it happens every time. “I DIDN’T CHOSE LUCK, LUCK CHOSE ME!”

Favorite Marine: Akainu, for being the strongest in his opinion. He loves to hang out with Django & Full-Body. Not only they are in the same rank but they are cool dudes to have a good time & dance with. Clovis likes above all when Django tells his adventures when he was a pirate. There’s thousands of stories and all of them have all type of information about pirates and the world, it fascinates him to no end.

Least Liked Marine: Hina.

He will never admit how hard it is for him to ask for help to his brother even in his worst moments because of his gigantic ego. Marineford was a painful and bitter lesson in humility even if his “spoiled brat” personality never went away or reduced a little bit.

Blonde Rich Kid

Name: Barclay Early Cumberbatch

Birthplace: East Blue

Age: 24 yo

Marine Rank: Seaman Recruit First Class

Favorite Food: Beef Sausages, Quiche & Eggplant Spread

Least liked Food: Spicy Foods, Cinamon & Iced Coffee (he thinks it’s an abomination to the art of coffee)

Rich kid who got in with his father’s connections, this is the highest rank he could get without traditionally “climbing the ladder” and he’s bitter about it

It was not clear, but Helmeppo know this guy, his family was working with Captain Morgan (during his prime). Helmeppo mentioned how Barclay always had narcissistic/bullying/controlling tendencies worse than him back in days. Helmeppo always tries to stay as far as he possibly can and advice others to do the same

He was the type to questions his teachers and starting arguments with them over the taught material back in college/marine academy.

Often complain how uncomfortable the fodder marines’ uniform is

He often shoves civilians out of his way or kicks dogs.

Doesn’t respect women in the Marine

Favorite Marine:

Akainu.

Least Liked Marine:

You would think him and Greenbull are personality and ideology twins, but he despises the green admiral for being “annoying”, his closeness with the fleet admiral and for being egregiously unattractive.

 HE CAN’T STAND KOBY! He had to work under him many times and he can’t bottle his hatred for the pink haired boy. His voice, the way he dresses, EVERYTHING. Barclay always depicts him as someone desperate for the validation of higher-ups and talentless.

Smoker. Told the vice admiral to “put some clothes on”. Smoker didn’t acknowledge his existence.

X Drake. Knowing Drakes’s endeavor with women, he made him grab a seaman recruit’s breasts and got suspended for it, but his rich daddy bailed him out like nothing happened.

He made Hibari’s life a living nightmare luckily Bel-Mère was here to check him.

[bri-sonat]

Kisses Of Fire

Follow-up to Life Eternal

Pairing: Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Knight!Reader

Warnings: NSFW!! Major GoT spoilers, descriptions of violence & blood, angst, SMUTTY SMUT, oral sex, praise kink, semi-public sex, a tiny bit of angst again, fluff.

A/N: so as i was writing this i realized i totally made up my own timeline, oopsie, so i should clarify. the first two fics (enjoy the silence & life eternal) took place post the long night and pre the end. this fic catches up to that. this is (by my own opinion and admission) not my best work, but i've been working on it for so long and it's been approved for public reading, so, here it is. the finale. the end of our two beloved knights' love story. blah blah blah english is not my first language (obligatory warning). i hope the ending is satisfactory to all, enjoy!

big thanks to my dear bestie aron (@queerofalltrades) for reading through it and giving it the stamp of approval, and for helping me with the idea for this fic, without them, this fic wouldn't exist. and spouse heather (@pastanest) for helping me compact complicated GoT plot and for explaining more GoT customs to me.

It had been five months since that fateful night by the stables when your love had screamed after you with all her might with tears in her eyes. 

That had also been the last time she had communicated with you at all. 

You had sent her ravens, every Sunday for the past months, concluding your week, talking about your father's passing, and your mother. No message was ever sent back but your own, unopened and unread. Despite this you kept sending them, to keep your oath and to let her know you thought about her, every single day. 

In your messages to her, you often mentioned things you saw during your day that reminded you of her. Like the bright blue sky, equally as bright as her eyes and smile. The setting sun, just as beautiful and breathtaking as her. Any time you saw something dark blue, much reminding you of the unique armor she always donned. 

These small details were added for her to know that you hadn’t forgotten her and that she was always on your mind; had she read them, she would’ve been made aware of this fact. 

You couldn’t blame her for ignoring your messages. She was upset that you left, that you didn’t listen to her cries. That you had made her fall in love, and that you ripped her heart out of her chest. 

What you couldn’t understand, however, was her stubbornness, she knew you had no choice. In fact, she would’ve done the same had her father gotten ill, considering she’s his only heir. The only difference was she would’ve let you come with her; she would’ve begged you to. 

She would have hired you as her main bodyguard, as her master-at-arms, as Commander of her troops, she would have hired you as anything if it meant always having you at her side. Even as she ruled over Tarth. 

That was the difference between her and you, she had obligations and could not join you, even when she desperately wanted to, you, however, could join her. You weren’t sworn to anyone but your family, Brienne, and the Gods, there was work for knights everywhere, you could go wherever you wished. 

She went where her loyalties led her, and her loyalties always led her to the daughters of Lady Catelyn Stark. Despite the Lady’s murder at the red wedding years prior, the honorable blonde kept serving the daughters, because death did not release her from her vows. You admired her extreme loyalty and virtue, there weren’t many people like her left in the world you lived in, everyone was either greedy, monsters, liars, or all three. 

Your unopened scrolls started to pile up on your desk and you wondered how long she would keep this up. Your patience only lasted for so long and you couldn’t deny the pang of hurt that surged through you and your heart when yet another message was returned, unread. After a while, you started to wonder if she had even received your ravens at all. 

About one month after you had arrived at your family’s residence in Lemonwood, your father passed due to his illness, leaving you and your mother as the attendees of the family business. 

The four months that passed after that were spent keeping up the trade, meeting shipments at Planky Town as they came in from the Westerosi coast and the Free Cities of Essos, comforting your mother, and sending unrequited ravens to Brienne. 

To honor your duties as a knight, you offered your help to the Martell family, having history with them that went all the way back to your grandfather's childhood. The only living one of them called for you every now and then for advice, or just to help patrol around Sunspear. 

You were a familiar face for most, having spent a lot of time in the city growing up, and you recognized some people as well, stopping to have a chat with some; and others, you just gave a polite nod to considering where you knew them from. 

Brienne was a constant on your mind, even when you received the news one week after your arrival of Kings Landing crumbling, the deaths of Jaime and Cersei Lannister, and Jon Snow assassinating Daenerys Targaryen. 

A few weeks after the fall of the capital and the deaths, Prince Martell had to leave for unstated business in Kings Landing. He had asked you to look over things while he was away and you accepted, not inquiring what said business was about. 

He had returned about a week later and stated that Bran the Broken had taken the now melted Iron Throne and that The North had been established as an independent kingdom with Sansa as its ruler. The mention of her name brought forth memories of the last time you had spoken to her, recollections of Brienne, and eventually evocations of her by the stables. 

You had no news of your knight; you did not even know if she was alive. 

You desperately wanted to ask Prince Martell about Brienne. Just a simple, ‘My Lord, was there a tall blonde by Sansa Starks’ side?’ would have been adequate, but you hadn’t dared to verbalize the query in case the answer was no. If the answer was no, it meant that she was no longer alive, because your knight was always by the redhead's side as her sworn sword. 

Part of you hoped that if she had met her untimely death, you’d be notified; but had to come to terms with that there would be no reason for anyone to think of doing so. 

Around the same time of Prince Martell's return from Kings Landing, your raven returned, however, something was different this time. The bird carried both your scroll and another. You had hoped it was from Brienne, disappointment settled in when you saw that it wasn’t. 

The words on the Stark stationary were very few, only there to convey the brief piece of information necessary. Despite the lack of long and many sentences, the small amount was exactly what you needed to hear. 

“Brienne no longer resides in Winterfell. She has relocated to the White Sword Tower in Kings Landing. – Sansa Stark.”

She was alive. A flood of relief washed over you but was quickly replaced by sadness and confusion. She was alive but ignored your messages; and she was in the King's Guard, of course. 

You read the message again and detected that Brienne's and Sansa’s titles were missing in the message, meaning she had forsaken professionalism. This led you to the conclusion that she somehow knew about you and your knight's infatuation with each other. It gave you a sense of calmness, knowing that you would have been notified had she perished. 

It then broke your heart, realizing that the blonde couldn’t let go of her pride for one second to personally let you know of her relocating, she had to have someone else do it for her. You would have expected her to tell you so herself but apparently, that was too highly anticipated of you, so silly of you to think that she could be bothered to tell you personally, how unreasonable, how idiotic. 

There were whispers of a new Lord Commander, but no one knew who they were, only that the King's Guard now only consisted of two knights. You knew that Brienne was one of the members, considering her new residency but still had no idea who the Commander could be considering they had no distinguishing marks to tell them apart from the rest of the guard. 

So, until it was confirmed who had filled the position, it was unknown information and you made it a habit to spike your ears whenever you heard people mention ‘Lord Commander’ in conversation, hoping to learn what everyone was curious to know. 

——— 

Brienne’s life had been quite non-identical. She had spent the entire week after your departure mourning you. She noticed your absence in everything: her bed, her heart, breakfast, training, dinner, and the void was particularly draining after her patrols when your usual midnight meetings would occur. She had gotten used to your touch, now the only thing she felt was the cold hand of complete loneliness. 

During your stay, Brienne's squire, Podrick, had noticed the taller knight's infatuation with you and stayed away, giving you the space to speak uninhibitedly. You had not met him but had heard such wonderful stories of their adventures together. He instead lurked in the background, training with your love when you had split off during the day. 

With you gone, he had proven to be a comforting presence for Brienne, but the hole left inside of her was still gaping, a void that only you could seal. She trained him whenever she had free time, which was more often with you not there, and he grew stronger and stronger for each day that passed. 

Sometime after the Battle of Kings Landing, Brienne traveled to the Dragonpit to represent Tarth in the trial of Tyrion Lannister. From what she had been told by Sansa whose opinion she valued most amongst those present at the trial, Daenerys had gone against his advice, he had then denounced himself as her Hand, resulting in imprisonment for his defiance. 

Jon Snow, who Brienne had come to conclude was a good man after the time spent with him at Sansa's side, had then had a conversation with Tyrion within the cell he was held in, before murdering Daenerys.  

During the trial, Brienne sat and listened to Tyrion as he advised the gathered council to elect a new King to decide his fate. Expressing his reasoning, he suggested Brandon Stark. At this, the blonde knight assented, as did everyone else. 

Brandon Stark then met Sansa’s demand for the North to once again become its own sovereign kingdom, as it was for thousands of years.  

Tyrion’s punishment, as decided by King Bran, was to reclaim his position as Hand to the monarch and amend his previous mistakes in the same position, under previous rulers, for the rest of his life. Though the Lannister strongly opposed this idea, that only made the punishment more just, as, to him, it was not the reward that many would take the position to be. 

However, the minute Brienne had assented by saying ‘aye,’ she was ashamed to admit how little of her attention she devoted to the trial due to her mind being occupied by thoughts of you, but alas, that was her fate. She was well aware of the people around her and what decisions were made but she couldn’t have cared less. 

She had acknowledged your ravens, she just didn’t have the strength to open them, to read about your life without her. She knew she was being unreasonable, and she chastised herself for it. Despite how well aware she was of her unwarranted and irrational behavior, she ignored them, but you just kept sending them and it got harder and harder for Brienne to just leave the inviting scrolls; however, she knew it would only hurt her more to read about your Dorne adventures. 

In hindsight, however, those messages would’ve been something much more joy-inducing to have of yours, compared to the only thing she had in her possession. 

After the trial, Bran had approached Brienne, and offered her the position of Lord Commander in his Kings Guard, he was a very blunt man, the King, and she had been a bit surprised with just how candid he was. She had managed to hide her initial reaction and had humbly accepted his offer. Sworn the oath at the Stark’s request and stated that her squire is yet to be knighted and that she would do so with haste. 

Podrick was ready and had been for a while, but she was called to Kings Landing for the trial before she had the opportunity to knight him. This worked out in his favor however, considering being knighted by someone from the King's Guard and the Lord Commander of it, was seen as prestigious; and would earn him substantially more respect than if she would’ve knighted him when she was still a knight herself. 

The King had nodded at her declaration, “I will ask Sansa to have someone pack up and send your belongings here. Tell your squire to come see me as soon as he is a knight. In the meantime, I believe we have some measurements to get for your new armor.” 

“Your Grace, there is no need for that. I have no belongings in Winterfell I’d like to keep. I brought everything important with me.”  

“Are you sure, Lord Brienne?” 

“Yes, Sire.” 

“Very well. Now, come with me.” 

Podrick, who had followed Brienne from Winterfell to Kings Landing, had been approached by the taller knight the day after the trial. 

He had a puzzled expression on his face as he watched her and she knew he had a question to ask, she would have preferred if he had kept his mouth shut about it but had allowed him to ask it anyways; regretting it as soon as he spoke. 

“Lord Commander?” Hesitant in his tone, he had looked up apologetically at Brienne with the hope that she wouldn’t scold him for granting his inquisitiveness to take over. 

“Yes, Podrick?” She stared down at him and she could almost see the gears that had been turning in his head; looking for the most well-mannered way to phrase the words that followed. 

“I apologize for what I am about to ask but I am afraid curiosity has gotten the best of me. Whatever happened with the knight from Dorne?” She released a sigh, there it was. 

“I do not wish to speak of them, not because there is anger but because there’s too much pain.” Brienne had remained stoic in her answer and in her facial expressions, but her insides had been bleeding, almost like she had been impaled by a sword and left to die, bathing in a pool of her own blood. 

That was the first and only time she and Podrick ever spoke about your departure. The shorter man had opened his mouth to say something else but was quickly interjected by Brienne. “Come along Podrick. There’s something we need to do.” 

“Yes, My Lord.” 

As they walked through the ruins of Kings Landing, Brienne wondered if she should’ve been the one to send a raven to inform you of her move to another kingdom, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do so. 

She had instead asked Sansa if she would send one, to which she agreed. The redhead had seen the affection you held for each other and knew that there was more to your seemingly professional relationship. Brienne hadn’t known the reason for the Stark’s compliance but was grateful for it either way. 

All the memories that had been created in Winterfell were painful for Brienne and she found it almost relieving that she didn’t have to return, there was too much sadness there. She did not know when you would return to her, even if it had only been around one month since you had left, so leaving all the woeful memories behind was easier than she had thought. 

The happier ones were harder though, the memories in the courtyard, her room, the mess hall, the bathhouse, your room. The room where she had found the letter that changed everything. 

She had kept the note. It was now stained with dried tears, the paper damaged by the salty drops; ink smudged in various places. She kept it somewhere safe, out of sight from wandering eyes but close by. 

It was read every single night with tears in her eyes before she went to sleep, desperately trying to remember what your voice sounded like, to no avail. 

She had brought it with her to Kings Landing for the trial, not wanting to leave without it. Reading through your words had become routine, and it had gotten to the point where she could not sleep if she did not read your letter before bed. It was one of the first personal items to take its home in her new living quarters.  

Brienne and Podrick had walked in silence as he took in the crumbled kingdom. The fire had stopped but the damage was still apparent. Blackened remains of destroyed buildings and dried blood on the ground. 

The charred corpses had been moved the day before, given a proper burial in unmarked graves, at Tyrion’s request. To have it done within a day, the blue-eyed knight had assisted; her strong arms able to carry double the weight. 

It had been a grisly sight, and even Brienne, who had seen plenty of violence in her days, had felt a hint of nausea and sorrow go through her at the sight of the destruction. The smell hadn’t made it any better. 

The two had turned a corner and Brienne entered a large building that surprisingly hadn’t been affected by the attack, far enough away from the dragon's path of destruction. The room had been dimmed, rays of sun coming in from the small windows lining the walls; standing along it was Tyrion, his small form lurking in the darkness. 

The tall knight stopped abruptly in the middle of the room, Podrick had done the same a couple of feet behind her to avoid crashing into Brienne’s back. 

“Tyrion is here to bear witness. I told him that there was no need, but he insisted.” Her voice had been flat, stern. She had turned on her heels, faced him, and pulled out her sword from its sheath, the metal scraping against metal had echoed, the sound bouncing between the bare walls. 

“Kneel, Podrick Payne.” He had gotten down on one knee in front of Brienne, gazing up at her, and she had proceeded to lay her sword on his left shoulder, her eyes boring into his. “In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave.” 

She had shifted the metal of her blade to his right shoulder, carefully placing it down, mindful of the sharpness of the sword's edge. “In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just.” 

She had switched shoulders again, the metal of the sword gliding in the air. “In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent.” She placed her sword back into her scabbard before she had stated her last words, “Arise, Podrick Payne, a knight of the Six Kingdoms.” 

One month after your departure, Brienne had knighted Podrick. After this, she and Tyrion took him to see Bran, just as he had requested one day prior. The King had asked him to prove his fighting skills, suggesting he spar against his teacher, “Lord Brienne has trained you and I have no doubts in her skill, I am sure you are more than qualified. It is just a formality. I’m sure you understand, Ser Podrick.” 

“Of course, your Grace.” 

They had stepped out into a large somewhat empty clearing to give the two knights the space they required, and Podrick had proved his swordsmanship by fighting the blonde, King Bran being more than satisfied after seeing him hold his own against Brienne’s powerful blows. 

“That’s quite enough. I can tell Lord Brienne would floor you if we kept going and I need you both in prime health. Approach and kneel.” 

Podrick, who had read every book the word ‘knight’ was mentioned in and who had Brienne teach him everything she knew, had gotten down on one knee, and sworn the oath of the King's Guard, just like the tall woman had the day before. 

“I swear to ward the King with all my strength, and give my blood for his. I shall take no wife, hold on lands, father no children. I shall guard his secrets, obey his commands, ride at his side, and defend his name and honor.” 

“Arise.” 

With this, Podrick had been integrated into the King's Guard and Tyrion had taken him away for measurements. Brienne had asked Bran what she was to do until the resources for reparations arrived, and he had in turn told her to assess the damage done to the armory, and see if anything needed to be replaced. And to update the Book of Brothers: to complete Jaime’s entry, and add her own. She had done so with haste. 

Two weeks later, the supplies arrived in Kings Landing which was still in ruins. She, together with Tyrion, had met them at the Gate of the Gods, which was a large hole in a wall after the dragon attack, clad in her new shiny gold armor with extensive white enameling and a white cloak draped over her tall form. 

She had come to stand by Tyrion’s side to discuss something, but he had asked her to stay when she moved to leave his side, it was mostly so she could act as a waypoint, of sorts, for the convoy. It was also so he could analyze her up close. 

The small council had held a meeting and discussed what would come next, the reparations of the kingdom had been a unanimous agreement. They had wanted to rebuild the brothels first, but Brienne had quickly expressed her disapproval at the thought of prioritizing them over the rebuilds of the royal fleet, which clearly took precedence due to the lack of ships following the war. 

The four months that followed after the arrival of the supplies were filled with Brienne overlooking some of the construction whenever she didn’t have anything else to do and performing her Lord Commander duties; whatever they ended up being, they varied from larger decisions to smaller ones. 

Some days she just spent her hours in the armory, polishing and sharpening every sword; and some she spent in the White Sword Tower, either re-reading previous entries in the Book of Brothers or residing in her quarters. 

She was so busy with her new duties that she did not have the time to respond to your ravens, even if she could gather the emotional strength to do so. 

Five months after your separation, Bran had requested her attention, sending Tyrion to collect her. 

He had found her in the armory taking inventory of the same gear she had checked the day before. When asked, she told everyone it was to ‘make sure no one stole anything’ but it was really to keep her mind occupied with something other than you who plagued her mind day in and day out, even in her slumber. 

“The King wishes to speak with you, Lord Brienne.” Tyrion interrupted her almost obsessive counting, arriving when she had finished sharpening the last sword. He stood in the doorway as he watched her get up from the stool she was sitting on, put away the sword she was holding, and walk towards him. 

“Of course, Lord Hand. Lead the way.” 

The walk was quiet, for the most part. Brienne was content with the silence, Tyrion; not so much. 

“Forgive me for being informal, Lord Commander, but; what is the matter with you?” The question staggered Brienne, her entire being stalling for one second, too stunned to move, before she continued her prior movements, resuming her stroll by the shorter man's side. 

“Pardon?” She knew exactly what he was referring to. Her behavior had been strange, to say the least. Erratically counting and whetting, staring off into space, and getting lost in her own thoughts. Brienne had always been a bit unusual and turned in towards herself, but it had been even more so these last couple of months. 

“Brienne. I can promise you that no one is stealing weapons from the armory during the night in peacetime. The armory which, need I remind you, is locked up with you as the key holder. So, what the hell is your issue?” Tyrion had stopped right outside the building Bran was currently in, glaring up at Brienne with furrowed brows and caring eyes. 

“I-” she released an elongated sigh, “I do not wish to talk about it. What does the King need to speak to me about?” Switching the subject to the reason she was standing there with him in the first place, hoping to remove herself from the theme she wasn’t entirely comfortable conversing with Tyrion about. 

The shorter man let out a sigh, admitting defeat, knowing he wasn’t getting anything out of her. “I do not know. He did not tell me.”  

“Very well.” With this, Brienne pushed past the shorter man who was left standing in place, annoyed at the taller woman’s stubbornness, which seemed to be an ongoing theme nowadays. 

Her white cloak flowed behind her as she navigated her way through the corridors, her steps echoing in the empty hallways. 

“Lord Brienne!” Bran called her name as she entered the room he was residing in, stopping what he had been doing before she arrived, “I’m glad you’re here. I have something to ask of you.”  

The blonde knight quickly kneeled before him and he just as quickly ushered her up to her feet, claiming there was no need for such formalities. Brienne didn’t quite understand why but complied either way. “Sire, what can I do for you?” 

“I need you and Ser Podrick to escort a shipment from Planky Town. You will travel there by ship, collect the shipment, and bring it back. I’ve already spoken to Davos, and he has given you temporary command of one of his ships. It’s an incredibly rare material and I need my best men on it. I know it’s different from your usual duties but treat this mission the way you would any other.” 

The thought process that went through Brienne's head after Bran had started speaking was: Planky Town – Dorne – you. There was a hurricane of emotions whirling around inside of her that destroyed anything in its path, and as in every hurricane, the eye was quiet, which allowed her to process the whirlwind. 

She was ecstatic at the opportunity to finally visit Dorne, and maybe, if the Gods were good, cross paths with you. She was also guilty and terrified at the thought of meeting you again. Running into you after ignoring your messages for months would surely prove to be an unpleasant experience. You’d surely be angry, disappointed, and upset; all at her. But at least she would get to see you, even if it was with you staring daggers her way. 

Her mind was racing, running faster than it ever had and Brienne couldn’t keep up. Until a noise ripped her out of her thoughts, permitting her to catch up to her sprinting brain. The door behind her opened and closed, signaling that someone else had entered the room. This was when she realized she had been standing still and in silence for far too long, Bran looking at her with an unreadable expression as he waited for her response. 

“Yes. Of course, Your Grace. When do we depart?” Brienne remained as professional and stoic as usual, even when her mind was anything but. She had zoned out again, become lost in her own thoughts like a scared little girl getting lost in the woods with no way out. 

“Tomorrow at sunrise. Be at the docks by then.” 

“Yes. Anything else?” 

“No. You are dismissed, Lord Brienne.” After vocalizing the command, Bran looked away from the Lord Commander and went back to his previous activity. Whatever that was hadn’t been observed by the blue-eyed knight, and she simply couldn’t be bothered to find out. 

She bowed before taking her exit, passing Tyrion as she left the room. He looked at her warm-heartedly, giving her the smallest of smiles and a small nod which she didn’t reciprocate, a scowl painted on her lips. 

If she wasn’t so focused on keeping the hurricane inside of her in check, and on preventing any tells to leak out of her hardened exterior onto her face, she would have given him the same back. Instead, she just kept her mind set on maintaining a straight face. 

The second the heavy door closed behind her, she let the stone face fall, and an intrigued smile replaced her former frown. Her booted footsteps echoed in the barren hallways as she went back the way she came, her long white cloak floating behind her. 

“Dorne, huh?”  

——— 

You rolled up what must have been the twentieth message for Brienne, before strapping the scroll to your raven. It was a warm day in Lemonwood, as it was every day in Dorne, the Summer Sea waves hitting against the cliff side breaking the pleasant silence of the early Sunday morning. 

Your raven, Bartholomew (actually named Branoc by your parents, but you thought that was a little bit boring), was sent on its way and you sat at your desk, watching the bird as it flapped its coal-black wings, carrying yet another message for your love. 

The usual distant bustling noise of Planky Town had yet to begin, it was still too early but you and your mother had a shipment to meet. No rest for the traders. 

Your family had since your great-great-great grandfather been a part of a large trading company, landing you as one of the wealthier families in Westeros.  

The business had been passed through generations and now it had landed on your mother's lap. You were delighted to assist her for however long she needed you but the longing and yearning for Brienne’s touch was getting to be too much. You needed to get back to her. 

Sighing, you put your stationary, ink, and quill away, before rising from your seated position at your desk. The armor you had worn in Winterfell had been swapped out for a more heat friendly one. Specially crafted to allow breathing and protection, the Dornish colors decorate the leather gear. 

It rested on the stand in your room, the fur coat and cold-resistant steel armor gathering dust in one of your closets. You hadn’t laid eyes on either of the items since you disregarded them five months ago. 

The trip here had been a long one, riding along Kings Road before turning onto Rivers Road; before finally arriving in Lannisport just west of Riverrun. Once there, you were able to hop on one of your family’s trading ships, taking you back to Planky Town. 

The only comfortable way to Dorne when traveling from another kingdom, was by ship. The terrain and road through the Red Mountains were unforgiving and extremely hard to traverse and there was no way you were putting yourself through that. The ride through the barren desert after the mountains wasn’t all that inviting either. 

The difference in climate had hit you right away, the searing sun of Dorne not quite the same as the biting chill of The North. Your fur coat had been discarded soon after passing The Trident and turning onto the road that led you to your destination. It rained moderately in the Riverlands, therefore, you had to take it off to insure its dryness.  

When it started raining, like you had expected it to do, you had to take a break, seeking shelter under the protecting crowns of the trees. The fur coat proved quite useful as an extra blanket during the cool nights, and you pretended that it was the warm embrace of Brienne enveloping you instead of the cloak. 

After you had boarded the ship in Lannisport, you were able to take off your armor for the first time in days, letting the cool breeze of the sea wash over you. The familiar salty smell of the ocean reminding you of your childhood. 

The sound of knocking on your door pulled you out of your reminiscent state. Quickly pulling yourself to the present, you took large strides toward your door and opened it in a swift and controlled motion. 

You were met with the weary and tired eyes of your mother, she hadn’t slept well since the passing of your father, and you couldn’t blame her, neither had you. 

The sleeplessness was a combination of the grief from losing your father and the loss of Brienne's warmth. You had slept in her arms only once, but that singular time was enough to have your body aching for more affection from the tall blonde woman. 

Most of this you wrote about in your messages. The messages she couldn’t even be bothered to open because if she did, she would realize you missed her so. That you would leave as soon as you weren’t needed, and that you would return to her arms as fast as humanly possible. 

“Good morning, Mother.” Your voice was softer than usual, it always was around your mother nowadays, scared that any other tone would disrupt the mourning process she had begun. 

Her voice was weak, frail. Throat hoarse from crying, “Good morning. Just wanted to see if you were awake.” She did this every morning. Checking up on you. She did it when you were growing up and continued doing so when you returned. It was an even more comforting action this time around, serving as a reminder that you had each other to lean on. 

“I am, have you eaten?” Your mother's eating habits had been on the rocks lately, too busy with the business that she simply forgot to eat, sometimes she didn’t want to, her appetite gone. So, you asked her, every day, if she had eaten. Sometimes she said yes, sometimes she said no. 

“Yes. Have you?”  

You hummed in response to her question, “I ate when I woke up, I’m ready to go when you are. I’ll just need to gear up.” 

Your mother nodded, “I will wait for you in the carriage.” With this, she turned around and left. Making her descent down the carpet-clad stone stairs. 

After closing the door, you walked to your armor stand by your window that overlooked the Summer Sea and began removing each piece, attaching them to your form. 

As you put on your leather armor, you watched as ships of many different sizes sailed past your window, floating on the sea in the searing hot Dorne sun. The sun's rays invaded your room, casting it a beautiful golden glow, and warming your skin; the pleasant smell of the sea like a comforting blanket over you. 

Some of the sailing ships came from the west and some from the east. Some were sailing for trading companies, and some were sailing for travel. Their flags and sails fluttered in the warm air, hulls breaking through the water. 

Eventually, all the leather gear had been secured to your form, the last part had been your sword, and with everything in place, you abandoned your room; briskly walked down the same stairs your mother had, and stepped out into the warmth of the morning. 

Your mother stood by the carriage, conversing with the coachman. The sight of you approaching interrupted their conversation, the coachman opening the door to the roofed wheelhouse. Allowing your mother to enter and closing it once she had sat down inside. 

The carriage did not have any windows except for some small springs, meaning you didn’t have a good view of the scenery and environment around you. So, to make sure you were able to keep a look out for potential dangers, you sat up front with the coachman. 

You did not mind doing so however, he was a very interesting man with many stories to tell and you often enjoyed the chats you had with him. 

The ride to Planky Town wasn’t long, your ancestors chose to settle in Lemonwood for the short travel distance, taking into account that the port was a regular visit. 

On the way there you passed several travelers, and you recognized most of them as inhibitors of the other nearby settlements. You didn’t know any of them particularly well, only having met them a few times during formal events. Still being familiar with them and wanting to show civility; short pleasantries were exchanged before continuing your journey. 

It didn’t take long for the lively sound of the now awake port town to reach you, the familiar sight of the Greenblood river opening its mouth in front of you, running out into the vast sea. 

As every Sunday, it was reserved for shipment collection, meaning it wouldn’t be as busy as it usually was the rest of the weekdays. Despite this, there was still a large number of people going about their business of resupplying or trading. 

The coachman stopped your carriage a distance away from the docks as he usually did to prevent blocking the road. He stepped off to open the door for your mother, who had stayed silent during the ride as she usually did. 

You stepped off after him, watching your mother exit the wheelhouse, and walked up to her side, hand on the hilt of your sword and back straight. You were here as a traders’ child, yes, but you were also a knight. 

It wasn’t often that you were asked to make your rounds down here, yet on rare occasions you were. Even when you weren’t here on such business you still wanted to keep up appearances, you knew Brienne would. 

Shooting your coachman a nod and a smile, you linked your mothers' arm with your own and started trekking toward the docked ships. “Is it the usual today?” Wanting to make conversation, you asked your mother something that would pull her out of the damaging mindset she had surely found herself in. 

“Yes. Meet the shipment, and see that everything is as it should, some is unloaded here to be sold, rest is shipped to other port towns to be distributed by our partners.” It was like clockwork by now, and you knew it by heart, your mother knew that you did and found it kind of you to ask. She knew why you did and appreciated the distraction from her thoughts. 

A quick hum was all you gave in response, your steps taking you closer to the harbor until you reached the docked trader ship. Letting go of your mother's arm you turned to look at her, “I will stay on land and take a look around. Wait here until I come back.” 

She gave a quick nod before she stepped onto the wooden vessel, you saw your mother meet the captain and he in turn gave her the inventory list for her to check off. You began turning on your heel to walk away but before you could, something caught your eye. A ship from the royal fleet. 

It hadn’t been the ship in itself that stopped you, it had been the person you saw on board it. You had seen her faster than you cared to admit, almost like your eyes had been searching for her. 

She was standing as robust as she had done the first time you saw her when you first arrived in Winterfell. Her hands behind her back, the wind blowing through her short blonde curls; the white fabric that draped down her figure danced in the Summer Sea wind. 

She stood on the quarter deck, donned in her gold-white armor that reflected the sunlight, she looked so handsome in it, so at home. She was a White Sword, this you were aware of, but you were still nonplussed to see it, to have it verified. 

You were so used to seeing her in her dark armor. The dark armor that she had worn during the duration of your stay, the armor that you had begun to associate with her. Seeing her in anything else but, was an abnormal sight. 

As the ship inched closer and closer to the docks, you saw that there was detailing on her chest piece, a raven. Fitting for the three-eyed ravens' Kings Guard. 

From what you could percept, Oathkeeper still sat loyally at her side, and you wondered how she had taken the news of Ser Jaime's death. You knew that they had been... relatively close, she had described their relationship as ‘an unexpected companionship,’ which was really her fancy (and courteous) way of saying ‘it was a war, he was an extra sword, we spent time together because we had to.’ 

Truth was, Brienne didn’t take the announcement of his passing that hard. Still too focused on the loss of you. In her mind, she had tolerated Jaime, not seeing him as a close friend, and therefore did not feel the need to mourn him. 

The grief from your departure was still a fresh wound in her heart and even if she did feel the need to shed tears for him, it would be too overwhelming to do so for two people at the same time, and she refused to put you aside to lament Jaime Lannister who meant so little to her. So, it was an easy choice for her. You took precedence over everything else. 

You were frozen in place, watching her as she stood tall and proud. Anger bubbled up inside of your chest, along with sadness and betrayal. Yet at the same time, you were so gleeful to see her again after such a long time, and even though you wanted nothing more than to run into her embrace; the fact that she hadn’t responded to your ravens in months stood true. 

You didn’t want to see her, and you did not want to speak with her. With the feelings running amuck inside of you, you feared that if put face to face with her you’d say some things that you couldn’t take back. Hurting her even more than you had already done; ruining any chances of ever reconciliating and returning to each other's arms. For now, the best choice was to leave and blend in with the crowd before she could spot you, but it was too late. 

The second her ship had docked, and she had stepped onto land, she had seen you. Her intense blue eyes locked on to yours and the moment they did, they flashed with what looked like regret and guilt. 

It was too much to handle, the same blue irises that kept you up at night, that haunted your dreams, were now staring at you in such a way that made your heart twist inside of your chest. 

Her mouth was hanging open the tiniest bit, eyebrows furrowed. She was surprised to see you. If there weren’t so many thoughts swirling around in your head, you were sure that you would match her expression, shocked to see her down here. Shocked to see her at all. 

Your head was a battle arena, your thoughts fighting, trying to bring you back to your senses, to help you make a decision, and fast. The one who ended up coming on top was the one for before, the one telling you to leave; the one telling you to run to her getting left in the mud. 

You started to walk towards the crowd, planning to disappear in the swirl of people but Brienne was taller than most people there and was able to periscope over everyone, meaning you and your Dornish leather armor stood out like a beacon on a dark night. 

She started to follow you, Podrick trailing behind her trying to keep up with her broad strides. The continuous stream of people helped with keeping a distance between the three of you, but there were only so many traders and merchants, and you eventually reached a clearing, close to where your carriage was parked. 

There was no hiding from her now. 

The familiar voice of Brienne called your name, shivers running down your spine at hearing it for the first time in five months. You had forgotten what she sounded like, just how beautiful and deep her voice was, how the accent compliments it in the most fantastic way, working in harmony to make everything she said sound like poetry. 

“Stop!” you didn’t obey her command, instead, you kept moving forward. Her steps picked up, her long legs faster than yours, and before you could process her closing in on you, her hand grabbed your wrist, pulling at it slightly causing you to abruptly stop, and turn around. 

Suddenly, the only thing in your vision was her piercing eyes as they searched your face for any sign of forgiveness, love, or adoration; only finding the same stone-cold expression you had worn when your eyes met minutes ago. 

She had hoped that her proximity and touch would bring back the soft expression you used to have for her. It did not. Instead, you rejected her touch. Ripping your wrist away from her grasp, almost aggressively so, almost like her touch was hot coal burning you through your protective leather gear. 

She gazed down at you, a silent plea behind them for you to speak to her, to say anything. Just wanting to hear your voice. You in return stared up defiantly at her, displaying your anger by taking a step back, distancing yourself from her. She took this as a confirmation that you had become repulsed by her, just like everyone else; her weakness and pure selfishness had caused you to despise her. 

In truth, the moment she had gotten close, the all too addicting scent of her had invaded your senses, making it so much harder to stay focused. The step back was to display anger, yes, but also to step away from the inebriation that was the smell of Brienne. 

“Ser Brienne.” You spoke stiffly, your face full of indifference. She remained neutral, but to you, she was an open book. The way you said her name hadn’t gone unnoticed by the blonde, and you saw the flash of hurt in her eyes when you said her name. The usual affection you held for her wasn’t there anymore, and she completely understood why. 

She opened her mouth to say something, getting interrupted by Podrick before she could, “It’s actually Lord Commander-” Brienne held up a hand, successfully interrupting him back, but not before you heard her new title. Lord Commander, huh? 

“Ser Podrick! Do you not recognize them?” So, this was the Podrick you had heard so much about. He was shorter than you expected him to be, but maybe that was because he stood next to one of the tallest people in Westeros; she made anyone look short. 

She had broken your eye contact to stare at the younger knight with her usual glare. He looked at you once again, observing you. The second it clicked; his mouth fell open in a silent ‘oh.’ He cleared his throat before mumbling a silent apology to both you and Brienne. 

“Go and wait for the shipment. Leave us.” The Lord Commanders' voice was harsh, leaving no room for objections. 

“Yes, My Lord.” He rushed off, leaving you and Brienne alone. She turned her head back to yours the instant Podrick disappeared out of sight into the flow of people. 

“Lord Commander?” The voice that exited your mouth was incredulous. You couldn’t believe your ears. She had been appointed the highest position in the King's Guard and secured a spot on the King's Council, and you hadn’t been informed. The love of your life hadn’t told you of a major update in her life. 

“Yes.”  

“You were appointed Lord Commander of the King's Guard and I find out today. How long?” You almost did not want to ask. Not wanting to know how long she had been keeping this from you. 

You hoped she would say 'a couple of weeks’ or ‘about a month’ because then you would understand the lack of communication. You were understanding of the task of taking on a new title and the job that came with it. If she was in the beginning phases, you would have understood. Instead, you were greeted with the opposite. 

“About four months...” 

“Four months-! You are unbelievable, Lord Commander.” You spat her title back at her, there was such wretchedness in your voice, such wrath. What you had feared was just a couple words ahead, the fear that you would say something that would be irreversible. There was no closing the gates of Hell now. 

“Please just call me Brienne, like you used to.” Her voice had shifted into a gentler one, attempting to diffuse the situation. You scoffed at her. Was she really trying to ‘go back to the way it used to be’ after making no effort in communicating with you at all? 

“I don’t know if I want to refer to you as anything anymore.” There it was. The gates had been opened, and anything coming out after this was meant to hurt. Meant to drive a knife into her stomach and twist it. Disbelief spread through your being, so irritated at her for just assuming you’d forget everything that had happened. Both of which were perceivable in your tone. 

“Please, if you would just let me explain-” Desperation was evident in her voice, her entire face softening, her eyes imploring for you to please listen, to please forgive her. But you didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to hear her excuses; not before you had said your piece. 

“Explain what, huh? Explain how you couldn’t let go of your pride to send me something back? A simple ‘hello, it is I, Brienne of Tarth,’” you tried your best to copy her speaking voice, it falling short, “once a month would have sufficed because then I would have known that you were alive!”  

You took a breath before continuing, keeping your voice steady, tears threatening to well up. 

“Instead, I had to get that sign of life from Sansa! Do you understand how much that pained me? That you could not let go of your stubbornness for two seconds to let me know of your damn relocation to Kings Landing by yourself! Why?” Glaring up at her, you panted, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. 

“I couldn’t bring myself to read about your life without me…” Her voice was quiet, almost like she was ashamed to admit her reasons for not responding. At her admission, your wrath eased up. You weren’t furious at her anymore, but there was still the agonizing pain of being ignored by someone who you love so much, and whom you care for so. “I know, it was unreasonable, irrational, intolerant of me. I am aware.” 

She continued her explanation, “I really wanted to, read your messages, that is. Because I missed you terribly, and love you so, but it would have hurt too much. Then after I was appointed my new position and title I had so much to do, and I was so stressed, and I didn’t have the time to reply.” She was trying her best to stay strong, or at least for it to look like she was but she was moments away from a breakdown. 

You kept eye contact the entire time, seeing when tears were starting to form in her eyes, and you were suddenly extremely aware of how exposed you two were. “I’m sorry.” Her last words were a whisper, barely audible, voice breaking. 

She then broke eye contact, tilting her head down, fixing her gaze on the sandy ground. You glanced around you, seeing that your carriage was only a couple of feet away. It gave you the perfect escape plan. 

You took her by the hand, dragging her towards your carriage with a quick ‘come with me.’ The sudden, unexpected contact made Brienne’s head snap up, meeting the back of your head with her blurry vision. She needed privacy, you couldn’t let everyone see the Lord Commander break down in public, so you had to shelter her. It also provided you with a quieter place to speak. 

You asked the coachman to go make himself busy before ushering Brienne into the wheelhouse, you following suit, closing and locking the door behind you. Quickly covering all the springs in your immediate vision with its individual curtain. 

The second you sat down across from her, the dam broke. She buried her face in her hands as loud sobs wrecked through her, much like the ones you had heard by the stables as you rode away. 

Your anger and pain had quickly subsided when you had heard her entire reasoning, and when you saw how guilty she felt. There was no need to be mad at her, you didn’t think you could be anymore. 

Relieving yourself from your sword sheathe, you pondered, unsure if you should remain seated across from her, or if you should move to sit by her side. You couldn’t comfort her all those months ago, but you’d be damned if you didn’t do it now. 

Quickly maneuvering across the carriage, you took a seat next to Brienne, taking off her scabbard before throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close to you, her becoming flush against your side. She hadn’t expected the abrupt intimacy, it was a welcome one, especially after feeling nothing for so many days. 

Her arms flew around your waist, her face burying itself into your leather-covered chest. Your free hand came up to Brienne’s head, softly stroking her hair as the other gently caressed her upper arm. Her armor made it a little lumpy, but you did not care. Having her back in your arms after so long was an incredible feeling, and you couldn’t believe how you had made it this long without her warmth. 

Her sobbing was relentless, tears flowing down her face and dropping onto your legs. Your leather tasset had gradually shifted down the side of your upper thighs in your seated position, revealing your tunic trousers underneath. 

Brienne repeated the same phrase, over and over again through wails. Saying how sorry she was, how she hoped you could forgive her. You in turn answered with reassurance. Telling her that you accepted her apology, that she was forgiven. 

You didn’t know how much time had passed when Brienne’s cries eventually died down, rendering the small space silent except for the occasional sniffles coming from the blonde beside you. Her head had been removed from your chest and she now sat upright. You still had your arm around her, hand resting on her armored bicep. 

The hand that had been stroking her hair was now holding hers, entwined hands resting in between yours and Brienne’s thighs. Your thumb lazily drawing lines on the scarred skin. 

“Are you alright?” The softness had returned to your voice, the love and tenderness had as well, and the Commander noticed. She was soothed by your question because it meant you still cared enough to check in on her. That lit a light in Brienne’s tunnel of misery; there was still something left to save, to rebuild. 

“Yes. Especially now that I’m back in your arms.” She turned her head to look at you, you doing the same and offering her a soft smile which she returned. As you took in her tear-stained face and red puffy eyes, you were smacked with the remembrance of your earlier words, words that shouldn’t have been uttered. 

  “I’m really sorry for what I said back there. I was filled with fury, and I didn’t mean it. I always want to refer to you, dear Brienne.” Voice low to avoid disrupting the peace, your voice was gentler. A strong contrast to the cutting tone you had used outside. You brought her held hand up to your face to place a peck on the back of it, relishing in the feeling of her skin against your lips once again. 

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it. I forgive you either way.” You dropped yours and Brienne’s hands into your lap and released a sigh of relief hearing her words. Silence settled in again as you gazed into each other's eyes. The blonde's sapphire blues darted down to your lips and back up to your eyes, just like they had that night in the courtyard almost one year ago. She wanted to kiss you, and you needed her to. “You know, I really did miss you. A lot.” It was nothing more than a whisper, a breath of desire. 

“Yeah, yeah. I missed you, too. Now shut up and kiss me, please.” Brienne giggled at your eagerness and avidity and was quick to oblige to your wish. She turned her body towards you, legs shifting to be able to face you as comfortably as possible, hand coming up to cup your cheek, head diving in fast to capture your lips, eyes falling shut before colliding. 

The second her lips connected with yours, a contented and allayed moan escaped Brienne’s throat. She had longed for, craved, and missed you for so many months, all the tension and sorrow built up inside of her melting away the moment your lips touched. It was even more heavenly than she had recalled. One of your hands flew up to the side of her neck, your body shifting to copy the way she sat. 

It was like you never left, lips moving together in familiarity. Brienne’s tongue swiped over your bottom lip, begging for entrance, and you granted it. Her wet, strong muscle started exploring your mouth the second you parted your lips. The feeling of her tongue wrestling with yours along with the familiar taste of her, made you release a low moan; she tasted even better than you had remembered. 

The taste of you, the feeling of your tongue sliding against hers, your soft whimpers as she expertly moved her lips with yours like a dance, elegant and controlled like a waltz, but passionate and heated like a tango. A dance of the love and yearning you contained for the other. All of it took over her senses, her brain going into overdrive, her mewling against your lips. 

The hand that was holding on to Brienne’s broke away from the grasp, moving to find purchase in the blonde's hair. It was already disheveled from the salty ocean wind, hair slightly curled from the humidity in the air; your hand running through it wouldn’t make it worse. It wouldn’t be odd for her hair to be out of place considering the strong coast gust. 

Your fingers started at the nape of her neck, slowly moving upwards until they stopped at the back, curling them in her tresses, gathering a fistful of her hair in your hand. Brienne hummed against your mouth at the feeling of your digits in her hair once again, and the hand that had been abandoned by yours grabbed onto your waist, palm gently resting on your side. 

Your lips pulled apart, but you still kept the contact, foreheads leaning against the others, eyes shut as you regained your breath. “I really did miss you. I was hoping to show you just how much...” Brienne spoke between heavy breaths. 

You did not miss the glint of seduction in her voice or the innuendo. During the make-out session the all too familiar heat grew between your legs and your body craved her touch, as it had for months. But right here, in a carriage in a port town when you both had responsibilities? 

“Brienne...” Breathing out her name and meaning to remind her of your current area; you weren’t able to complete the rest of your sentence before she interrupted you. 

“Look at me,” you removed your head from hers and opened your eyes, meeting Brienne’s that were already staring back at you, her blue irises as deep and breathtaking as the galaxy, filled with stars and planets of her own. They were truly remarkable and gorgeous; fitting for someone like her. “I have craved you for so long. I don’t know how long it will be until we meet again. Let me make it up to you. Let me erase the past five months of misery. Let me do this so we can have something to last us until we can guarantee proximity to each other. Please.” 

The hand in her blonde curls transferred to her cheek, gently holding and stroking her flushed skin with your thumb. Her eyes were pleading as was her voice, wanting to remove the memories of pain and replace them with ones of pleasure; and you wanted that too. 

You placed a soft kiss on her lips before nodding, “that sounds perfect. I’d love nothing more.” At your confirmation, Brienne’s lips turned up into the biggest grin much like the one she wore after your first kiss, and she was on her knees on the wooden floor shortly after; her hands resting on your legs. 

“I’ve never done this before. All I know is that I want to make you feel good.” She gazed up at you as she spoke. She was insecure, as was obvious in her voice and her eyes, but also determined, not letting uncertainty scare her away. “Tell me if it feels good and what I can do to bring you maximum pleasure.” 

“I will.” 

The woman on her knees before you started undressing you. Starting with your boots, before wedging her hands under your leather chest cover to unstrap your tasset that was hindering access to the buckle of your trousers. 

Throwing a look at the door to the carriage to make sure it was locked, you noticed that one of the springs hadn’t been covered by the sheer curtain. As you stood up to close it, Brienne’s fingers undid the metal of your pants, pulling them down at the same time as you pulled the curtain down. 

You were now completely out of sight; the problem was, so was the outside world, and if your mother decided to forego your escort to make the trek back herself; she’d find you in one hell of a position. 

You prayed to the old Gods and the new that your mother would stay put, or that inventory would take longer than usual so that she didn’t hear you reconnecting with your love. Sure, she knew about Brienne and the relationship you had, it was one of the first things you had talked about when you got home, but you didn’t want your mothers' first impression of the much taller knight to be her in between your legs. 

Brienne’s hands grabbed onto your hips and pulled down, causing you to meet the seat with an unexpected speed, she was impatient, and you understood why. She had already spent too much time away from her mission and Podrick, and sooner or later, he would come looking for her, and would no doubt find her considering her last known position and your family’s carriage being mere feet away. Time was of the essence, and you couldn’t afford to waste any of it. 

Heavy breathing came from the woman in front of you as she placed her hands back onto your knees and gently spread them, being faced with your soaked underwear. She had never seen your sex before, felt it, sure, but never seen. She hadn’t tasted you either and she was practically drooling at the thought of finally doing so. 

Tentative and curious hands slowly traveled up your legs, stopping at the hem of your undergarments. Hooking her fingers inside and motions for you to elevate your hips slightly. Lifting your hips for easy discarding, she pulled them down in one motion, revealing your needy cunt to her hungry, dilated eyes. 

She was if in a trance, watching with such intensity you feared her eyes would pop out of her skull. You nudged her shoulder with your knee, causing her to snap her gaze to yours. Her pupils were blown-out, darkened from lust and desire. The air was thick inside of the small space and you could practically sense her ferocity as it emanated from her person.  

She looked so pretty like this on her knees for you, looking up at you with virtuous eyes. So ready and willing to serve; to satisfy your needs. Reaching out a hand, you took hold of her chin, guiding her face closer to your core, she needed a little helping hand. “You look so good right now, pretty girl. On your knees for me. So ready to do whatever I wish, hmm.” 

Brienne could only offer a nod in response, your words and low, vibrating voice combined with your dominating tone. If she were standing, she was sure her knees would give out and she’d fall to the floor. But since she already was kneeling on the wooden boards, she gave out a tiny whine instead, forgetting just how much power your words had over her. 

The scent of your arousal was overwhelming, your pussy radiating such heat, Brienne being able to sense it all when you had brought her face close enough to the apex of your inner thighs, and she wanted nothing more than to taste you, something she had wanted for such a long time; completely missing out on her chance before you left. She thought she had all the time in the world with you, how was she supposed to know you were leaving the same night she had intended to feast on you. 

So, the fact remained: you had tasted her; she hadn’t tasted you and she was so desperate to finally know how your wet flesh would feel against her tongue. Desperate to gain familiarity with the sensation she thought she would have experienced months ago when she had planned it. 

After you had eaten her out and gotten into bed together, her mind had started wondering what you’d taste like and that she’d propose to perform oral on you the next day during your midnight meeting, but then you left, and she never did find out what you tasted like. 

Finally, five months later. She would finally know just how wonderful you’d taste. 

“Use your tongue, my sweet girl. Don’t be afraid to use your instincts.” You stroked Brienne’s skin softly before sliding your hand to the back of her head, leg coming up to lay on her shoulder, foot resting on her back. Your other hand was placed beside you, using the seat as support. 

She licked her lips, mumbling ‘what a pretty little pussy’ before finally diving in, shutting her eyes, and allowing her intuition to take over. She licked a careful stripe up from your entrance to your clit, circling it slowly before closing her mouth around it, lightly sucking. Her tongue was a godsend, so strong and oh was she good at using it. 

You released a soft whimper, mindful to keep quiet considering your whereabouts but still wanting to let her know just how good she was making you feel. Your head leaned against the wall behind you, but your eyes were locked on Brienne’s between your legs, moving slightly as she used her skillful mouth on you. 

Your fingers grabbed at her hair, wanting to hold her in place as her tongue flicked over your clit and you refrained from pushing her closer; wanting her to do it on her own terms. You were sure that if she made you come with minimal help from you, her confidence would boost and that would exponentially heighten the chances of her giving head more often in the future, maybe even initiate it. 

Even though you wanted her to learn by doing, she had requested you to tell her how to make you feel good, and that was what you intended to do. 

Her arms were snaked around your thighs, hands resting where hip and leg met. She switched between sucking and licking, sometimes doing both, drawing out all kinds of noises from you. “Yeah. Just like that, baby. Just like that. You’re doing so good.” Even when she was pleasuring you, she was still submissive and in need of praise and assurance, and you were more than happy to provide all of those things for her. “Try- Try adding more pressure with your tongue.” 

A vibrating sensation exited Brienne’s mouth as she moaned against your clit at hearing your praise, causing your body to jerk and you to hold back a loud groan. She wanted to be validated, to be told she was doing a good job. This only applied to the sex part of her life, however, as she couldn’t care less about what other people thought of her, well, not anymore at least; her childhood self would disagree. 

The only person’s opinion she cared about besides maybe the professional opinions of her King, were yours. She wanted you to think highly and goodly of her, in all aspects of her life, be it professional, personal, or intimate, and you did. This she knew, it still felt good to hear you say it though. 

Brienne’s eyes which had been screwed shut the entire time suddenly opened, looking up at you with curious eyes. She wanted to see how you’d react to all of her following ministrations, fascination, and wonder glinting in her beautiful eyes. 

She took your advice and adjusted accordingly, placing her tongue flat on your clit with the pressure to go with and dragged her tongue up, making you drawl out a throaty moan. “Oh, Gods! Feels so fucking good, so fucking good.” Your words were slurred, your voice low to avoid it being heard by anyone else than Brienne, your heavy breaths and hums only growing more and more ragged as the woman betwixt your legs worked her wet muscle against you. 

You’d had your share of love affairs before but that was nothing compared to this. The feeling of getting eaten out by the love of your life was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. Not even the meetings you used to have as a young adult in the local bathhouses felt as good as this did. 

Brienne was a beginner but a very quick learner, and she knew exactly how to pleasure you because she knew you and your body, playing it masterfully, playing it like an instrument; like she hadn’t done anything else. 

She was devoted to your pleasure, devoted to worshipping you and your pussy with her tongue. Nothing else mattered in this specific moment, only the feeling of your legs shuttering, your moany whimpers, and your fingers twisting in her hair did. 

The sounds inside the wheelhouse were right out of a brothel, moans mixed with the wet noises coming from Brienne as she used her mouth on you. She murmured against your clit, a whisper mostly to herself, but you had heard it too, “You taste so fucking good...” Her words combined with the intense eye contact made your head spin, your insides turning in the most pleasant way. 

Every stroke, lick, kiss, and suck from the blonde brought you closer to the edge of climax, the familiar warmth pooling in your stomach, legs twitching and hips bucking with every ripple of pure bliss that went through your body. The release was barreling towards you like a wild buck and you were so ready for the collision, ready to get sent into an endless vortex of pleasure. 

During the five months that you and Brienne had been apart, more and more tension began to build up inside of you, a knot forming in your stomach. You often found yourself thinking of that morning in the baths or the night before, and it never failed to make you a throbbing mess. You never found the time to rid yourself of it, so it just continued to grow, the knot only getting tighter. 

Months' worth of pent-up tension releasing would equal in an orgasm the size of a tsunami washing over you and you were made aware of this fact as the band inside of you tightened, and tightened, until it eventually snapped, untying the knot at the same time. 

Waves upon waves of ecstasy poured over you as your body convulsed with pleasure. Your back was arching, hips thrashing as you rode Brienne’s face to drag out your orgasm. Her hands that had been resting in the space between thigh and hip pushed down to keep you steadier, but still allowing you to grind against her mouth. 

The hand in the blonde hair loosened as you came down from your peak, stroking her messy curls instead, hoping to smooth down the mess you had surely made of her locks. Brienne had removed her head from your sex, drawing languid circles with her fingers on your skin. Gorgeous blue eyes gazing up at you with awe as they watched your breathing grow steady. 

The Lord Commander leaned back on her heels, your hand sliding off her head as she moved out of your reach, removing herself from your legs, sloping to grab your clothes. Her chin was covered in your juices, and you made a mental note to get that cleaned up before you left the carriage. 

She grabbed your ruined undergarments and reached out a hand to give them to you where you sat, the hand that had been placed flat on the wood beside you the entire session was brought up to push her hand away, “they’re already soaked, you might as well use them to wipe your chin.” A breathless chuckle passed your lips as you spoke, Brienne looking at you comically. 

She muttered a quick ‘sorry’ before using a dry part of the cloth to dry her chin, removing any trace of your activities. She reached out a hand with them again and this time you accepted them, putting them on and wincing at the uncomfortable feeling of your wet and cold underwear, luckily you were heading home as soon as your mother was finished, and you could change. 

Your trousers were handed to you shortly after to be put on and buckled, as well as your tasset, and finally your boots. 

“Come here.” Brienne did as she was told and shuffled close to you, kneeling down at your side so you were at eye level. “My beautiful girl,” bringing a hand up to her cheek, you traced her skin with your fingers, inching closer to her face to give her a kiss. 

It was a gentle one, soft and tender, and you could sense the taste of you on her lips. “I love you.” It was a whisper against her lips, a promise for now and the future until you could tell her every day. 

“I love you, too. I do not like the idea that we must leave each other once again,” Brienne let out a sad sigh and turned her head away from you to stare at the carriage door. You were not entirely happy with the situation either but there was nothing to be done until you were no longer needed. “Come with me.” 

Your eyes widened at her words. Had you heard her correctly? “W- What?” Shock was painted across your features, your voice trying to remain steady, but you were too taken aback to bother with that, slightly shaking with perplexity seeping through. 

She turned her head to look at you once again, her expression deadly serious. She wasn’t jesting or posing any what-ifs. “Come with me to Kings Landing. I will ask for King Bran’s attention and request for him to recruit you into the King's Guard. We need more knights, and I know you would be the perfect fit.” This was wishful thinking. The Kings Guard?  

Quickly exhaling and inhaling, your face furrowed together in empathy, you too shared her want to travel to Kings Landing and spend all eternity by her side until death released you from your vows, but your mother needed you. “Brienne, I-” 

“Yes. I know. Your mother. But, please, just. Just consider it.” Her eyes and words were begging, her eyebrows raised in hope, wishing that you’d say yes; that you’d consider it. 

“I will consider it.” The smile that spread on your Commander's lips was infectious, causing you to do the same. Her eyes lit up like stars in the night sky, twinkling just the same. They really were as deep and vast as the galaxy, holding just as many uncharted and unexplored areas. 

A knocking on the door caused you and Brienne to snap out of your staring competition, instinctively putting distance between each other, you shooting over to the other side and retrieving your scabbard, the woman across from you doing the same with hers. 

The muffled voice of the coachman came from the outside, signaling that you had been in there for far too long, “Ser! I think your mother is all finished and ready to leave. Is everything alright in there?” You took a quick look at Brienne, her curls strewn across her forehead, and you motioned for her to comb her fingers through her locks to tidy it up a little. 

“Yes, everything is quite alright. We are finished and are coming out. Thank you!” You and Brienne snorted at you using ‘finished’ considering you did just that, you were acting a little immature, laughing at such a thing; but you felt like young adults sneaking around and that earned a tiny bit of immaturity. 

The woman sharing your space looked at you questionably, a silent query asking ‘does my hair look okay?’ you nodding as an answer. 

Quickly pulling aside all the curtains inside the wheelhouse to let the light in, you gave Brienne one last long kiss before opening the door and stepping out into the hot Dorne sun. Your coachman stood outside, eyeing you both, obviously wondering what had taken so long but decided not to ask. 

“Walk with me?” Turning your head to look up at her, Brienne only nodded, letting you take the first step and her following you with steps to match your stride. She often did this when you walked together, coordinating her pace with yours so she wouldn’t race ahead and you not being able to keep up. It was a slight adjustment, but a very thoughtful one. 

When you approached the water-bound vessel your mother was on, she wore the biggest grin as she looked from you to Brienne, her expression a drastic change from the melancholic mood she had adopted as her default since your father passed. 

It was unnerving seeing such a display of teeth after only seeing a frown for so long, but you assumed she recognized the taller woman beside you based on your very detailed explanations of her appearance.  

Your mother stepped off the ship, the captain she had spoken to earlier barking orders to his men to ready the ship so they could transport the rest of the wares as she reached land. 

Brienne had stopped her walk, the same as you, still by your side a couple of feet away from your mother. Close enough that you could hear each other over the cacophony of people, but far enough that your mother wouldn’t be able to tell what you had been doing. 

“Brienne, this is my mother. Mother, this is Lord Commander Brienne.” Your mother had her head slightly cocked to the side, a caring and loving look on her face as you introduced them to each other.  

The situation in which you had told your parents about Brienne had been completely unplanned. It had been on a hot night shortly after your arrival by your father's bedside as he asked you about Winterfell. 

It had only really been a simple question of what your obligations had been, however, the second you had mentioned Brienne’s name, your mother grew intrigued, wanting to probe and prod after hearing the tone and manner of words you used when speaking about the then Ser. 

Her clever questions and your oblivious answers caused you to reveal more than you had intended to, and suddenly your parents knew all about the nature of your relationship.  

“M’Lady.” Your knightly blonde stayed as formal as always to leave a good first impression. Giving your mother a more drawn-out nod, she left her head tilted down longer than she usually did, deciding to be more casual in her greeting considering the fact that it was your parent. 

“So, you’re Lord Commander Brienne of Tarth. I’ve heard so much about you.” Brienne took a panicked glance at you, hoping you hadn’t spoken about the five months of errors on her end that would surely not be appreciated by your mother. You only gave her a reassuring smile back. 

“Just Brienne is fine, and only good things, I hope.” The worry in her voice was obvious to you, it goes unnoticed by your mother. Brienne was good at hiding her true reactions to things when the situation called for it, and this was definitively one of those situations. 

“Brienne it is. Positive things only, my dear. The joy you have brought my child is unmeasurable, and I am so grateful.” A goofy smile spread on the blonde woman's lips, a combination of relief and glee at learning that you had abstained from telling your mother about her shortcomings, if she did know; Brienne was sure your mother wouldn’t be as friendly as she currently was towards her. 

“They have brought me the same amount, M’Lady. Your child is truly exceptional, never met anyone quite like them.” Brienne’s smile changed into a sincere one as she spoke, her voice filled with warmth. Seeing them interact so effortlessly made you all giddy, staring at the tall Commander beside you with a lovestruck expression. 

“Why don’t you come back to Lemonwood with us, Brienne. Have supper with us, maybe spend a few nights at our residence, we’d love to host you.” This was really an excuse for your mother to spend time with your knight, to get to know the person her child had fallen madly in love with. 

If your father were still alive, you were sure he would sit right beside your mother as they asked Brienne question after question. The image in your mind made you smile fondly. Your father really would have loved to meet her, they would find that their opinions matched on many different matters. 

“That sounds very pleasant, and I would love to accept but I am afraid I am unable to. I need to get back to Kings Landing.” The twinge of sadness in her words did not stay hidden from either you or your mother. The reminder that time was not on your side bared itself once again, and no number of prayers could change the fact that you and Brienne had to part. 

“Yes, of course. How unfortunate. Perhaps another time?” Your mother did not back down, she laid out a long-standing offer, meaning that sooner or later, Brienne would sit at her dinner table, and she’d be able to learn all about the mysterious woman before her. 

“I’d love to take you up on that offer. Perhaps if I am dispatched to Dorne for a longer period of time.” You could tell that Brienne was being polite, yet she seemed genuine in her words. The moment she’d set foot inside the walls of your home, you were sure she would come to regret taking your mother up on the offer. She liked her privacy, and your mother liked prodding. Them together was not a feasible pairing. 

“Of course, just send a raven ahead of time so we can prepare, other than that you are always welcome to our home. It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Brienne.” She liked the pretty knight, you could tell. You could also tell that she was itching to get on the road, ready to talk your ear off and tease you about your behavior around the blonde. 

It was all with good intentions, something she did when you were young and had an infatuation with someone. 

“You too, M’Lady.” 

“Safe travels.” She spoke her final words to Brienne before shifting her attention to you, “I will give you two a moment, come find me when you’re done.” With this, she walked back to the still-docked ship she had previously been on, spectating as the crewmen scattered around on deck to get everything ready for departure. 

You turned to look at Brienne, her doing the same, a crestfallen expression gracing her features. Your face matching hers, “I sent Bartholomew off with another message this morning. Reply this time, please.” 

“Bartholomew?” Even though she was incredibly disheartened, an amused and quizzical look took over her face. 

“Yes. One of our message ravens. His real name is Branoc, but I named him Bartholomew the Raven the First. It was whimsical to me.” You lovingly smiled at Brienne, and she reciprocated, smiling with just as much adoration back. 

She chuckled slightly, “I see. I will read yours and send one back with Bartholomew the Raven the First. I swear, no more miscommunication.” Her words were true, no more silence from her end, no more misery. 

“Good. Well, off you go.” Tears were starting to well up in your eyes, you didn’t want to let her go, did not want to watch her leave but you were afraid there was no other choice. You could see Podrick in the distance behind Brienne, waiting for her to board the ship so they could return back. 

“I will be looking forward to hearing your decision when you have given thought to my offer. I love you. Please come back to me soon.” She was dragging this out, wanting your goodbye to last as long as possible so your time wouldn’t be cut short so soon. 

“I will try. I love you.” Gazing up into her eyes, you took her hands in yours, an action overlooked by the mass amount of people around you. “Now go. Ser Podrick is waiting for you.” 

“Farewell, for now, Ser.” Squeezing your hands, Brienne let go of them and straightened her back, hand resting on its usual place on the hilt of her sword; looking down at you with an over-enthusiastically assertive face, making you giggle a tiny bit. 

“Farewell for now, Lord Commander.” One long glance was exchanged before Brienne turned on her heels and started marching over to where Podrick was standing. The last you saw of her tall figure was her boarding the ship and her disappearing below deck. 

Walking up to your mother, you grabbed her attention by tapping her gently on the shoulder, her turning around to face you. “I will allow two questions on the ride back, and that is it.” Setting these boundaries with your mother rarely worked, but this time you were serious, dead set on maintaining some seclusion. 

“Two questions are all I’ll need.” 

——— 

Two weeks had passed since the events in Planky Town, and you had let it slip to your mother that Brienne had proposed to speak to the King on your behalf. A couple days after she had learned this, she miraculously didn’t need your services anymore, leaving you free to do whatever you wished. 

The first thing you did was send a raven to Brienne, telling her that you reflected on her proposal, that you accept, and to expect you the following week. 

Directly after this, you had traveled to Sunspear. Letting Prince Martell know that you would no longer be able to assist in whatever he needed. Considering you never swore your services to him and that it was purely a means to keep the ‘protect the innocents’ part of your knightly oath going; the only thing he could do was to thank you for your help and to let you leave. 

Packing whatever you needed for your trip, you said your goodbyes to your mother and later that day, you were on a ship heading for Kings Landing. It was another one of your family’s ones, and considering they were already heading up north, they allowed you to ride along in exchange for your assistance in carrying the goods, which you gladly assisted with. 

That all led to you standing at the dock of Kings Landing where the tall woman stood and awaited you. Walking up to her, you took a glance around before looking up at her with feigned confusion. “Excuse me, I’m supposed to meet Lord Commander Brienne of Tarth. Do you know where I could find her?” 

Brienne smiled playfully, lightly shoving your shoulder, causing you to grin up at her. “You’re not funny, you know?” 

“That smile on your face would suggest otherwise.” You were teasing her; she knew you were. You wanted to engage in small banter before diving right into serious King’s Guard business, but Brienne was eager for you to get integrated and fitted so she could take you to her private quarters and cuddle you. 

“We can continue this later. Let’s go see the King. He’s looking forward to meeting you.” Brienne began leisurely trekking, you following after her. The sun reflected so perfectly in her gold plates as she journeyed towards the large gate, eventually traveling under it.

You found yourself in shadows for a brief period of time before the light hit your face as you emerged from the dark, stepping out into Fishmonger’s Square. 

From there you walked straight until you took a right, walking down The Hook and you couldn’t do much but gape at the Red Keep where it stood, large and marvelous, fit for a King of the Six Kingdoms. As you passed through the curved street, you and Brienne kept up a mindless conversation, not talking about anything important, really, just chatting, enjoying each other’s company. 

After finally, reaching the end of The Hook, you were greeted with a set of stairs, going up Aegon’s High Hill. You looked to Brienne with annoyed exhaustion, and she laughed, stating that ‘the leg muscles you get from this makes it worth it, I promise.’ She was being goofy, trying to change your expression into one less irritated, and it worked; she always knew how to make you smile like a fool. 

She motioned for you to go first, and you did, knowing that if you lost balance or fell, Brienne would be there to catch you. She, on the other hand, wanted you to go first so she could be bestowed the privilege of having your ass as her view; she would never admit that though. 

About halfway up, the knight behind you asked if you wanted to take a break, but you declined, knowing that you were almost there. Give or take a few dozen steps. Brienne shrugged, staying close to your back in case your legs gave out. Even her thighs were burning. 

Even though you walked a few steps above her, you still only reached Brienne’s forehead and she found it amusing that someone so short could have so much love, well, you were short to her; everyone was short to her. 

You ascended the very last stairstep, the Red Keep towering and looming above you. It was even more intimidating and glorious up close, and you had to crane your neck to even get remotely close to the peak of it. You had to stop yourself from releasing a ‘whoa’ but settled with subtle gawking instead; subtle being eyes and mouth wide open. 

Brienne passed your still-standing person, giggling at your amazement, “come on, you silly girl. You can revel in the spectacularism later.” You shook yourself out of your current state when hearing her fond tone, coming to join your blonde Commander by the large doors. 

Brienne entered the large building, making sure you were behind her, allowing you to step up to her side. The insides of the building were equally as grand as the outside, a home fit for a King, you thought. You refrained from commenting on the vision that was the Red Keep, but you were fairly certain your knight already knew what you were thinking by the awestruck countenance you had. 

When you entered the Throne Room, your former face had been switched to a solemn one, showing that you were a very serious knight who hadn’t been staring at the building you were currently in open-mouthed. 

There were two other people in the large space besides you and Brienne. A much shorter man with curly hair, and the King, who sat on his throne which had been moved down from its previous placement so that Bran could lift himself into it. 

Brienne leaned down to your ear, talking to you in a hushed tone, “That’s King Brandon Stark, which I assume you know. And the bloke next to him is Lord Hand Tyrion Lannister.” You only hummed in response as she rose to her full height once again. 

Tyrion had noticed the blonde's change in mood the second she had returned from Dorne. No longer staring off into nothingness and getting lost in her thoughts. No longer hiding away and sharpening every sword known to man or obsessively counting in the armory. 

He had been wondering what the cause for this sudden change in her behavior was, but now that he saw the way she looked at you, the way her eyes lit up as she spoke, and how you acted the same towards her; he drew his own conclusions. He was sure to tease her about this at a later date. 

Brienne and you stopped before the King, kneeling in front of him. He called you both up to stand straight, the Lord Commander marching up to stand by her King's side, you standing firmly in place. 

“Your Grace.” You kept your eyes fixated on Bran, very aware of Brienne’s eyes on you. You could see her in the corner of your eye, she looked so exalted and heroic standing next to the King in her gold armor and white cloak. 

“Lord Brienne speaks very highly of you. She has stated very clearly that she would fight by your side and that she trusts you with her life.” You had to hold back a grin at his words, she spoke just as highly of you as you did of her, “I have heard of your accomplishments on the battlefield, and I must say that I am impressed.” 

“Thank you, Sire.”  

You had spent the journey here memorizing the oath you had to swear. It was a mighty long one, but it had eventually stuck, and you were sure it would never unstick. You didn’t quite know when you were supposed to swear it, hoping Brienne would give you some sort of signal for when it was time. 

Luckily, there was no need for that, King Bran gave you his own very clear instructions with his words, “I would be a fool to not have you in my Kings Guard, especially when my own Lord Commander was essentially bragging about your skills.” At this, Brienne’s head slumped down to hide a smile that crept up on her lush lips, she was a little bit embarrassed at him exposing her. Yet at the same time she was grateful for it because now you knew just how much she wanted you here with her unless any of her other words hadn’t been enough. “Kneel.” 

Brienne looked at you with enthusiasm, her pride for you shining brightly in the dimly lit room. She observed as you got down onto your knee once again, barely able to contain her large grin. The corners of her lips twitched, and she was sure that if either of the men beside her were to see it; they would question the reason why she actually wanted you here. She could want you here for two reasons, no? One selfish, one for the good of the kingdom. 

Your sword skills matched hers, and to have you next to her would put her so much more at ease. She was well aware that she was an exceptional sword fighter, but to have two with the same skill was calming, knowing that you would both go through hell and high water to get back to the other alive.  

Having such a drive force can be lifesaving in dire and lethal situations, especially when your job is to protect the King; riots hadn’t been uncommon in the past, but hopefully, there would be none now that there was new and better leadership. 

“I swear to ward the King with all my strength, and to give my blood for his. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, mother no children. I shall guard his secrets, obey his commands, ride at his side, and defend his name and honor.” 

What you didn’t seem to notice even though you kept your eyes fixed on Bran, was his slight eyebrow quirk at the fact that you chose to replace father with mother, but wife remained, just as it had with Brienne’s oath. 

“Arise.” 

Brienne practically beamed at you as you got up from your knee, almost overzealously volunteering to take you to your fitting when Bran and Tyrion started discussing it. The shorter one of the two stared at her with an astute look, mouthing ‘real smooth, Lord Brienne,’ a teasing smile on his face. 

The tall blonde shot him one of her signature glares in return, staring at him pointedly and he knew he was going to have fun messing with her about this. Maybe he’ll ask her if she’s still a virgin, maybe her answer had changed since the last time he asked. He was sure it had, but he wanted to hear her say it. 

“Your Grace. I will take our newest recruit for measurements, then show them their quarters. Leave it to me.” Bran didn’t think much of Brienne’s willingness, he thought her to be a strange character sometimes and this was one of those times. He just simply nodded to show that she was sanctioned to do just that. 

“Lord Commander. Ser. You are both dismissed.” Brienne trotted over to your side, ready to lead you away from the large room. 

“Yes. Your Grace.” Speaking unanimously, you and the tall blonde bowed before taking your exit. Side by side, you roamed the regal halls of the Red Keep, and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring in wonderment again, nearing the exit of said building. 

Brienne found your extreme fascination and wonder endearing, her heart fluttering at your childlike enthusiasm and admiration, her insides all warm, her stomach filling with butterflies as she watched your wonderstruck face. 

The descent of the stairs was much more forgiving than the ascent and you had found yourself walking down The Kings Road that winded through Kings Landing, and as you walked, Brienne explained to you that you had two stops to make, one at the armorer for measurements for your new plates and gambeson, and a second at the tailor, for new tunics and trousers, but also for your long white cloak. 

She spoke to you the entire time about what she had been up to the five months you were apart, stating that it was too much to be written on paper, as you navigated the streets of Kings Landing to make your errands. 

It all went smoothly and eventually, Brienne had taken you to the White Sword Tower, where your chambers were located. “I managed to get your room next to mine, so we can easily sneak in between if we wish.” Her voice was hushed and her tone mischievous as she showed you her quarters, and then yours. You smiled at her words; she hadn’t changed one bit. 

“Come into mine. I wish to show you something.” Suddenly her voice and face turned candid, opening the door to her room and allowing you to walk in before her, closing it after entering the quarters herself. 

She immediately walked up to her hearth, starting a warming and crackling fire, and then moved to the armor stand in her room, beginning the removal process of each piece of her golden plates. 

You couldn’t help but look at the back of her head with a puzzled expression. It was getting close to sunset, but not close enough to warrant Brienne unstrapping her armor. She usually kept it on until bedtime, and it was still light outside. 

Continuing her process, she spoke to you, voice soft and tender, “Go look in that book over there.” She twitched her head quickly, motioning you in the direction she wanted you to go. 

Walking over to her bed table, your eyes landed on a book. Brienne didn’t seem like the type of person who would be interested in dramatic literature. “The book isn’t of importance; I just picked a random one. Look inside.” 

You looked back at Brienne, only having her gambeson left to remove, but had stopped for a second to turn her head to look at you, offering an encouraging smile. Shifting your gaze back to the book, you picked it up and opened the worn-out leather cover. The paper inside seemed to stare back at you with accusing eyes. 

It was tear-stained, obvious marks on the spots the Lord Commander’s tears had landed. You were almost certain about what the parchment was, your speculations were only confirmed when you removed it from the pages and unfolded it; your handwriting from five months ago glaring at you. 

“You kept it?” This was surely a painful memory for Brienne, why she opted to keep it you did not know. The evidence of her evening cries was clear on the slightly ripped note; she must’ve read this every single day. 

“Yes.” She was finally finished with her armor and gambeson and moved to join you by her bed. “I needed to have something of yours, and this was all I had.” She stopped in front of you, gently taking the book and letter from your hands, placing them back on the bed table before grabbing hold of your hands. “I read it every single night, desperately trying to remember your voice. But I- I couldn’t.” 

Her gaze shifted from yours to the floor, and you were hit with a surge of woe seeing her evade your eyes. You did not know why she felt the need to do so. Was she ashamed that she had forgotten your voice? Or maybe embarrassed admitting that she read your letter every night even if it reminded her of the dark winter evening by the stables? You did not know, and you didn’t want to ask, not now at least. 

“Darling,” one of your hands tangled itself out of Brienne’s to softly lift her chin up, so you could look into her magnificent irises. “I forgot your voice too. No matter, though. We’ll be able to hear each other's voice every day from now on.” She smiled down at you with sad eyes, an unasked question in the air that you both wanted to ask, the taller woman being the actual one to ask it. 

“Will you let me hold you, please? I wish to hold you.” It was almost like she was shy, acting like it was the beginning stage of your relationship once again, and in a way it kind of was. You were in need of her warmth, her closeness, and the strong enveloping of her large and long arms. For her to hold you tight and never let go, desperate to be back in her embrace once again. 

You responded by kissing her tenderly on her lips, removing your hand from her chin, and using the one still in her hand to drag her down onto the bed with you. Both you and Brienne were still fully clothed, an error that needed to be resolved; you wanted to feel her hot skin against yours once again like you had done so many moons ago. “I want to feel your bare flesh against mine, please.” 

Brienne watched you lovingly and fondly, nodded, and started to remove her clothing, stripping down to her undergarments. It was nothing sexual, just the need to feel the entirety of her against you; an animalistic urge to feel a sense of security. You followed suit, undressing with haste, folding up your clothes, and placing them next to hers at the foot of the bed. 

Your blonde knight in shining armor crawled under the covers and laid down on her side, holding the fur up for you so you could do the same. Lifting up the same arm that had been holding the cover as you did. 

She wasted no time in slinging the same limb around you when you had laid down next to her, pulling you close to her, your back against her front. Her face nuzzling into your neck, breathing in your scent. 

Her strong musk and arms encompassed you, the faint and familiar smell of fresh grass and light sweat overwhelming your senses once again. You were completely intoxicated by her proximity, you couldn’t think, your mind was scrambled, heart racing. 

She started pressing soft kisses to your skin, supple lips ghosting over your neck and shoulder, making you release a sigh. Brienne whispered against your skin, her breath slightly tickling you. “Tell me what you did in Dorne during the five months we were apart. Catch me up, please.” You were more than happy to. 

As you started to recount the events that had occurred over the past five months, Brienne’s hold around you tightened, attempting to have you even closer to her which at this point was impossible. There was barely any space left between you, not even a small air pocket. 

Your legs were tangled with her incredibly long ones, fingers drawing mindless circles on her arm as you told her about your journey to Dorne, your father’s passing, and your family’s trader business. 

Brienne hummed every once in a while, to let you know that she was listening, her arm around you strong like cement. As she pressed a barely felt but burning kiss to the skin behind your ear, you realized that you were finally back where you were always meant to be. 

In Brienne’s arms.

–––

taglist: (give me a shout if you wish to be removed)

@na-shoba

@pastanest

@the-fuck-do-i-know

@mayfair-fleur

@idontlikepexple

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

Nobunaga her Archer and Avenger versions from FGO with an S/O who was her master in a previous grail war who she meets again at Chaldea and he's become a rare modern day heroic spirit and a strong one at that.

I had a blast writing this, not to mention it helped to scratch the itch I had for the best war criminal.

NOW THEN! YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND!

“Heh, looks like you still have a bad habit of not expecting things to get in close to you. Then again… you are an archer, so I guess it can’t be helped.” a familiar voice muttered behind Nobu.

“It couldn’t be…” Nobu thought to herself in shock.

Then, the cuts ignited, engulfing the corrupted servant in a pillar of blood red flames.

“So… you became a heroic spirit didn’t you?” Nobu asked without even turning to face you, her fists clenched tight.

“Of course, after all, we both left quite a few things left unsaid to one another the last time we were together didn’t we?” You responded quietly, the same sword at Nobu’s side in your own hand.

“You know that's not what I meant.” Nobu muttered through gritted teeth.

“I know, but the how can be saved for later.” You told the archer servant quietly as you returned your blade to its sheath.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The atmosphere was tense as the group returned to Chaldea with Nobu glaring daggers at the newly summoned saber servant who held the same sword as her in their hands.

In an effort to break the ice, Guda decided to ask a question.

“Soooo… Saber, mind introducing yourself to the class?”

“Apologies Master, but only one person will ever get to know my true name, and she is rather greedy with it.” You responded as you walked beside the woman glaring daggers at you.

“Really? Mind if I ask who?” Mash innocently requested.

“I don’t think that's my place to say, but you probably know her, she has a wonderful larger than life personality that can get her into quite a bit of trouble which she’ll easily brush off, not to mention, she is quite attractive, and looks quite fetching in her uniform.” You responded cheerily, leaving a certain archer flabbergasted and, if one looked closely, blushing ever so slightly.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

After that, You and Nobu were inseparable and yet… no one knew why.

Nobu sitting directly next to you during lunch, as she drank tea, or addressed her retainers.

You sat directly next to her… any time she was sitting down.

It got to the point that, in lieu of your true name, you had been designated as “The Saber Of The Demon King”.

And it was a name Nobu had taken quite a liking to.

She was a rather possessive person after all.

And you being known by that name? It made her all giddy inside.

Now, if only they knew just who you were to her, that would make your name even better for her.

Still, she was going to wait to drop that bombshell, after all, she doubted that it would be good to give so many people a heart attack from shock.

Not to mention, she still had to figure out just what you were to her as well.

Master, comrade, partner, companion, and even… lover.

These were all words she could use to describe you and yet… none of them truly fit what the two of you were, falling short by the distance of entire planets.

Oh well, the both of you had plenty of time to figure out just what the two of you were to one another.

After all, she was Oda Nobunaga, Demon King Of The Sixth Heaven, it can’t be helped that things tended to get a bit complicated when she was involved!

The flames of Honnoji engulfed her enemies in pillars of flames, burning them to less than ash in an instant.

Yet, she was not the one who burned them.

That honor belonged to her counterpart, a recently summoned Ruler who could always be found standing at the Demon King's side like a loyal blade.

No one knew exactly where this servant came from, there was no record of them in the stores of Chaldea and the Ruler refused to share their name, saying that a rather fiery conqueror had already taken sole ownership of it with a look of affection on their face that had caused a certain Avenger to chuckle with a similar look on her own.

There were theories of course, most of them centering around the two of you.

Some were reasonable like you being an existence similar to that of Nobukatsu except you were the flames of her noble phantasm made manifest.

Others were… not as reasonable, like the one that claimed you and her were Master and Servant from a grail war or something else that would require a summoning or that would allow an Avenger to properly incarnate in the real world even if only through sheer luck.

Alas… neither of you would ever give a straight answer, merely deflecting every question asked.

Nonetheless, if anyone was ever looking for one of you, they simply had to find the other part of the duo and low and behold that is where the person they were looking for would be.

Simply put, the two of you were inseparable.

And something told everyone in Chaldea both of you would have it no other way.

[idyllic-affections]

a winter night's lazzo.

summary. the loss of a mother creates a pain comparable to no other. trigger & content warnings. major character death (la signora), loss of a parental figure, chronic illness flare-up, mc is HOMICIDAL towards both the traveler (implied to be aether bc abyss!lumine supremacy <3) and scaramouche, violent thoughts, all five stages of grief, scara slander 💕, [name] is stated to have longer hair but it is only mentioned once. tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. angst, hurt/slight comfort. dad!pantalone & reader. 2k words. they/them pronouns for reader. prev | next author's thoughts. i wasn't going to post this. why? no clue tbh, i'm actually quite happy with the dialogue and dynamics i created in this fic, but i nonetheless had little to no intention of actually posting it. then someone showed interest in how [name] would respond to signora's death, and i RAN to revise, edit, & post this old draft HEKSJSKSGHF

       Snezhnaya had never felt colder.

       Even though the power of Pyro could dance on their fingertips at their command, staving off the cold whenever they desired, it was too cold; whatever small attempts they made at warming their body were quickly snuffed out by the frost. Even though they knew lives would be lost in pursuit of the Cryo Archon's honorable goal...

       It was a little too much. It was too cold.

       'Lohefalter... will not be coming back.'

       They said nothing, gave no indication of having heard him at all. Then, they met his gaze with a chillingly distant expression unbefitting of someone their age. No child should have been capable of looking so... unreadable. Briefly, Pierro mused to himself that they truly resembled the way their father looked when something troubled him extremely deeply. 'She's dead, then? Don't treat me like a fucking child, Lord Pierro.'

       The man's brows seemed to furrow slightly, surprised at how dangerously sharp their tongue was, but he obliged them nonetheless and nodded. For a noble who was taught specifically not to lose their composure...

       They were very close to losing it entirely. Before him stood but another child who had been eternally changed by the Motherland's cruelty. It was... something worth mourning, really. Any innocence they should have had was long since burned away. Someone so young should not have been capable of making the expression that they wore so effortlessly, but perhaps that is what being raised by the Fatui does to a person. Someone so young should not have been capable of making the expression they wore, but they simply were able to do so. Perhaps that is just a testament to the absence of innocence, innocence that they never really got to experience.

       'Yes. Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter is dead.'

       A strong chill climbed the length of their spine, making them shiver slightly. They could taste blood at the back of their dry, raw throat, wincing as they rubbed the side of their neck in an attempt to ease the pain. Normally, they handled the cold very well. The extreme temperatures of the Motherland typically didn't hinder them so terribly; it was, ironically, the heat that made it difficult for them to function. The very power that coursed through their veins after years and years of studying to master it without a blessing from the gods was indeed destructive in more ways than one. Even so, no matter how resilient they were normally, it was just far too cold for them to handle. They trembled beneath their thick coat like a leaf in the wind, thumb rubbing over the Pyro delusion tucked in their coat in an attempt to absorb the warmth it radiated.

       ...Then again, normally there was Mother Rosalyne to help them regulate their body temperature. She was not there. She would never be there again.

       In their weak, emotional state, they dared not try their hand at true pyromancy, lest another Harbinger lose their coat to the flames like the Balladeer did all those years ago. Heating their body was one thing, but generating flames? It was simply too risky. Disrupting the funerary atmosphere by setting someone aflame wasn't something they were all that keen on doing. Under different circumstances, they wouldd be glad to set someone alight the same way they did to the Sixth.

       (They absently noted that the aforementioned Harbinger was missing from the memorial service.

       If they weren't as well-informed as they were, they'd assume it was just because he was an asshole. As much as they would like to blame it on his shitty personality... they knew better.)

       Whatever was left of the Fair Lady's body was sealed inside the beautifully intricate casket that they were especially particular about being involved in selecting; they knew her far better on an intimate level than even the other immortal Harbingers did. No-one could deny them their right to be involved. La Signora had it stated in her will, regardless, that she wanted them involved in her commemoration.

       Even if the others dared deny them their right, would they dare deny La Signora's final wish?

       Columbina's voice, beautiful and alluring like the call of a siren, did naught to soothe them. Some part of their brain still refused to acknowledge the fact that, indeed, in that intricately beautiful casket (which they couldn't even confidently say was adequately befitting of such a stunning woman like Rosalyne; nothing was good enough for her, nothing would ever be good enough for her) was the one who filled the role of the absent parent in their life. Even as they gingerly traced some of the details with their gloved fingers...

       It was as if their head was stuffed full of cotton.

       "We are gathered here today to remember our dear comrade. In honor of her sacrifice, all work should halt for half a day as the nation mourns her passing."

       'There's no way this is real,' they mused absently to themselves. 'She said she'd be back in a month. She said she'd take me to Fontaine when she got back.'

       If they were more coherent, they'd object simply because half a day was hardly long enough.

       "Merely half a day?" Pantalone chuckled. He seemed to share their sentiment, albeit for separate reasons. It was only when his hands tenderly brushed their hair back over their shoulders that they seemed to become tethered to reality. With Rosalyne being gone, the attachment they already held to their father increased tenfold. Archons forbid something ever happened to him, too; the things they were thinking of doing to the traveller were already horrendously criminal, but if something were to happen to their father? The things they'd do would make even the bravest man cower. "People say the Northland Bank's true currencies are blood and tears, but Mayor, even speaking as a banker, that sounds a little unconscionable."

       "Rosalyne died in a foreign land, but you heartless buisnessmen and dignitaries always with a covenient excuse to remain in the comfort of your homeland. You couldn't hope to understand, so why don't you keep your mouth shut? We don't want to make the children cry." She scoffed, gaze briefly flicking in their direction; her eyes softened slightly upon landing on them, "...To this day, I am still shocked to see that someone as courageous as your child came from you."

       "My willingness to leave Snezhnaya doesn't have anything to do with courage, Aunt Arlecchino," they murmured, shifting their weight from one leg to the other. "I'm a debt collector. It's in my job description. I leave for either work or recreation. I'd stay here otherwise, so please... don't create such a distance between my father and I. I'm no different."

       Neither she nor their father had an opportunity to add on any further—not that Arlecchino would have been able to find the words to reply, anyway. What could she possibly say to them? The child she partially raised was claiming to be no less cowardly than their father, but they were. She knew they were.

       Even so, she also did not want to drive distance between them and someone they loved.

       Not now. Not when they were grieving.

       "Hey, c'mon now," Childe intervened, "even I don't think this is the right time or place for a fight."

       Perhaps he was sensitive to their discomfort. He did have siblings, after all. It wasn't a stretch to imagine that he'd be especially perceptive to their emotional needs, even in spite of all that he'd been through. One would think the Abyss would stamp out any empathy, but Childe time and time again proved to have certain redeeming qualities that even the Abyss failed to rid him of.

       He was arguably the most sane person at the funeral, really.

       "...Utterly risible."

       "Though her methods tarnished her honor—"

       A dart of fire missed Capitano's face by perhaps an inch, dissipating with a faint hiss when it came into contact with the frigid wall. "My hand slipped," was all they said with a flat, blatantly sarcastic tone when accusatory glances were shot their way. "My bad."

       Columbina giggled into her palm.

       Unbothered, Il Capitano went on, "—Lohefalter's sacrifice is a great pity. Her loss shall not hinder our progress, but Dottore... what of Scaramouche and the Gnosis from Inazuma?"

       Right.

       Now that their head was slightly clearer, they recalled the details they had managed to gather from Pierro regarding the Inazuma mission, sifting through them mentally once again like they'd done so many times before. Right; it was Scaramouche who did not tell Rosalyne that he already had the Gnosis. If he had, she would still be standing. Alive.

       A deep sense of hatred boiled in their chest, spreading and consuming everything in its wake until all that was left was ash.

       Perhaps they weren't so different from their late mother figure.

       'Fucking bastard.'

       Their gaze snapped to the Doctor—he was not the Doctor in his prime, they halfheartedly noted—limbs trembling with the utter strength of their rage.

       'I hope you lose all that you have ever loved in Dottore's experiment, and if somehow, by the grace of the Gods, you don't... I'll take it from you myself.'

       A squeeze to their shoulder brought them back to reality once again. Their eyes flickered to the Regrator, breath shallow and quick. It was hard to differentiate their emotions from their illness, and by the time they were grounded enough to do so, their chest was already tight with the lack of adequate oxygen. A soft whimper was involuntarily choked from their throat when a sharp ache struck their diaphragm. Again, their shoulder was squeezed. The simple gesture carried a clear enough message:

       Calm down.

       For their health, both physical and mental, they needed to calm down. It was then that they noted the rising temperature around their body—fuck, was that heat emanating from them? Rosalyne didn't warn them about this. She did once offhandedly mention that emotions may affect their art, but they never thought that'd apply to them and clearly she had shared that sentiment; they were so skilled at masking their feelings behind an elegantly deceptive mask. Despite that, if they weren't careful, they'd end up burning their own coat off.

       "Conventional wisdom holds that divine knowledge cannot be rationally comprehended. After conquering the divine gaze, he will make his next move."

       "It's time to end tonight's foolish theatrics," Pierro began, finally approaching the casket as all of the other Harbingers had already done. "Right now, you have no captive audience. Let every worthy sacrifice be carved in ice, and with this nation endure for all time."

       With Pantalone on their left and Arlecchino on their right, they sent Rosalyne off.

       "In the name of Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa, we will seize authority from the gods."

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       "Would you like to meet Dottore in Sumeru?"

       They sat comfortably in a little space by the window, still bundled up in their coat, absentmindedly picking at the threads of their outfit. Their gaze briefly flickered to their father stood at their side before shifting back to the raging blizzard outside.

       "I'd rather not," they murmured. "I would faint not even five minutes into a nation that humid. There's no guaruntee I won't slaughter the traveller on sight, either. Also... genuinely, Scaramouche is my least favorite of you all. I don't care what happens to him. His mommy issues got the best of him," they scoffed, to which their father's lips twitched vaguely upwards. "It would be no more entertaining than it would be boring."

       "You never did get along with the Balladeer. Shall I take you to Liyue for the time being, then? You may benefit from... detachment from the Fatui's affairs for a while."

       "...I'd like that. Maybe I'll find out where all of Childe's mora is going while I'm there."

       The Regrator chuckled at that, squeezing their shoulder once more and leaning down to kiss the top of their head. "Do see to it that I'm the first you tell when you inevitably find out, hm?"

       "I will."

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[vodika-vibes]

What I Wish I Knew

Summary: When Master Yoda makes it a requirement for all Jedi Knights to take a Padawan, it means a lot of very young children end up on the front lines of a war. Plo Koon ends up with an eleven year old padawan, and he turns to Commander Wolffe to explain the realities of their situation to her.

Characters: Commander Wolffe, Plo Koon, Young F!Padawan Reader (all platonic)

Word Count: 761

Warnings: Wolffe has a heavy conversation with the reader

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Is a lot of what Wolffe says pulled directly from this song, yes. Yes it is. But it works.

“Commander,” General Koon walks over to him, a pensive look on his face, “I’m glad to see you. I was hoping to get your advice on something.”

“My advice, General?” Wolffe is, understandably, confused at the very idea, “I’m happy to help, of course. But I’m not sure what kind of advice I can give you that you don’t already know.”

“It’s always important to get multiple opinions.” General Koon says lightly, “And this is a matter that you might be better equipped at dealing with than myself.”

“Alright,” Wolffe replies slowly, “Go ahead.”

“You might have noticed,” General Koon starts slowly, thoughtfully, “That my Padawan is very…young.”

That might very well be the understatement of the century. She’s hardly the youngest of the new Jedi Commanders, that particular honor lies at Cody’s feet, who has an 8 year old Jedi Commander and it bothers him a lot.

“She’s not terribly young, sir.” Wolffe says awkwardly.

General Koon chuckles, “True. She’s at least old enough to be a Padawan on her own merits, but she is still very young, Commander. Too young for War. Too young to understand the realities, I think.”

“General, what are you asking me to do?”

“Talk to her. Help her understand.”

“Shouldn’t that be your job?” Wolffe asks.

“I think the lesson will stick better coming from you.” General Koon replies quietly, “Can you do this?”

Wolffe sighs and rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah. Yeah, alright. Just…send her to my office when she finishes with her lessons for the day.”

“Of course…and, Commander, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Wolffe remains standing there as General Koon walks away, and then he sighs.

Great. How do you explain war to a Cadet who actually has to take part in it? His training did not cover this.

With that thought in mind, he turns on his heels and heads towards his quarters. Hopefully the short walk will make the words magically appear. He’s not hopeful, though. Odds are he’s going to be winging it.

Half an hour later, there’s a knock on his door, and then it slides open, and a small face peeks in.

She’s…young.

So young.

Too young.

Her hair is tied in twin tails. Twin tails that she needs help putting up still. And her face is still rounded with baby fat.

Wolffe knows, logically, that she’s inching towards puberty. He knows human biology after all, but he can’t help but look at her and see a cadet rather than a jedi.

“Master said that you wanted to see me, Wol-...um, Commander.” She asks as she steps into the room and shuts the door behind her, “Did I do something wrong?”

Wolffe opens his mouth, and the words start coming, “I was younger than you are now, when I was given my first command.” He says, and she turns wide, baffled eyes towards his face, “I led my men into a massacre, I witnessed their deaths first hand.”

Her hands curl around her robes…robes that are too big for her.

“I made every mistake.” Wolffe continues as he stares at her, “And even now, to this day, I lie awake knowing that history has its eyes on me.”

“Why are you telling me this?” She asks, her voice wavering slightly, her eyes even wider.

Good. She understands.

Wolffe circles his desk and kneels in front of her, “Let me tell you what I wish I knew, what I wish someone had told me.” He sets his hands on her shoulders. She’s so small, too small. “You have no control over who lives, who dies, or who tells your story at the end.”

She sniffles and her wide eyes fill with tears. 

Wolffe smiles, and tugs her into a light hug, “I know that we can win.” He says quietly, “I know that greatness lies in you. But you have to remember, from here on out, that history has its eyes on you.”

She hastily wipes her eyes, and she blinks up at him with eyes that are a little more haunted than they were moments earlier. A little less innocent. “...Yes Commander, I think I understand.”

“Good girl.”

She offers him a quick bow, and then she scurries out of the room, and Wolffe leans against his desk. Only time will tell how this chat went, but, hopefully, he got through to her.

Hopefully she’ll understand what he meant.

Hopefully General Koon won’t be too mad about what he just taught her.

His head tilts back, history has its eyes on you indeed.

[wishluc]

˗ˏ IN THE FACE OF ADVERSITY...

On a scale of 1 - 10 I think the yandere here is around 4? 5? But I find Childe to be terrifying regardless. Set in Sumeru, during the archon quest.

✧ CW: yandere character, abuse of authority, power imbalance, mentions of Harbinger-typical violence

✧ PAIRING: Childe x Fem! reader

You can't help but be mesmerized by the twinkling stars, shining so brightly against the blanket of darkness. A peaceful night like tonight is a luxury you can't usually afford.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?"

Your mood is soured almost as quickly as it was lifted as you hear the careful emphasis on your name, almost as if he was testing it out for the first time

Regardless, you aren't surprised to see that Childe is here again.

Despite his position, he didn't seem to have much to do—except, of course, spend every possible moment hounding you. Unlike the frightening rumors that lurked around the Harbingers, Childe appeared only as a man who was extremely proficient with his weapons, full of boyish charm and towering ambition. At first, you considered that he may be putting on a front—one that relied on a disarming smile and easygoing words—but after your actual meeting with him, you realized he was not full of tricks and traps. Childe was a blatant, proud challenge. The lack of deceit on his part, the plain truth he laid out to you when he introduced himself to you as "Number Eleven of the Fatui Harbingers," was because he wanted you to know. He wanted to exude his power over you, while simultaneously, extending an invitation to you, one that read loud and clear; Try and cross me, if you dare.

Even if he wasn't with the Doctor, on official business, Childe was still a Harbinger, and it was made very clear to you already. You had never seen a man so thrilled by violence, so exhilarated at the sight of blood and pain. He wielded his weapons with frighteningly natural ease, swiftly cutting through air and flesh alike with the same fluid motion. And when he stood, yearning for yet another rush after yet another battle won, it looked as though he was born to do this. You still remembered the blood-splattered figure, the glowering blue gaze, and the mad expression on his face, and you remember thinking that somehow, you believed nothing would suit him better.

And now, you're forced to regard this bloodlust-driven creatur, as the esteemed diplomat he makes himself out to be. You have to smile at his jokes and agree with his demands, forcing yourself to ignore just how swiftly he can pull a blade out and press it against your neck, and how it would only take a moment, a single command, to get his loyal soldiers to rip your heart out for him—since you clearly won't do it yourself. You have to pretend his sly remarks and coquettish grins fluster you, and not disgust you. You have to ignore the reminder that the callouses on the hand that was often placed on your shoulder were from training with numerous weapons and what exactly the mask at the side of his head symbolized.

And you have to do it all pretending like you're honored to be serving him.

"Master Tartaglia," a polite smile found its place on your face, "I hope your night is going well."

He grins, a playful quirk on his lips, "seeing that you are here, comrade, I can confidently say that it's going splendidly."

Childe gently turns you around, a hand finding purchase on the small of your back, to face the masked Fatuus who had been silently following him, "I'll be with my friend here, so you lot can go make yourself busy, hm?"

They immediately scatter away at his words, and he turns to face you again, the lopsided smile still playing on his lips, "sorry about that. They take their jobs quite seriously."

You nod in understanding, as he looks over the railing with you. You see his eyes linger on the many food carts stationed by the streets, a soft glow of light embracing each one. He looks at you with a knowing look, that excited glint in his eyes dancing wildly, and puts out a hand for you to take. You bite back any protests and take the gloved hand offered to you, praying the night would pass quickly.

The food is as good as you remember, hot, savory, and bursting with flavor. But it's hard to enjoy yourself when you're standing next to a man who is obviously a soldier of some sort, earning you both wary looks from all around.

"What's wrong, pretty girl?"

You've always hated when he called you that. At least, with 'comrade' you could believe it came from a place of equal respect, him recognizing the role you played as his guide, and the dangers you had exposed yourself to by doing so. That, and anyone could tell that you worked with him. But when he was flirting, it made it so much harder to deal with him. He wasn't stupid. He knew that there were others listening. He knew exactly how much harder it was coming up with excuses about why you were walking around with a Fatuus glued to your side when said Fatuus was sweet talking you, face pressed close to yours, instead of marching ahead of you with no concern for how you struggle to keep up.

"Nothing," you reply, "it's just been a while since I've come out here."

He chuckles, "I must have kept you quite busy."

Your laugh is awkward at best and forced at worst, but by now, he's used to your pathetic attempts at avoiding conversation. It doesn't perturb him—not that anything you do does, anymore. Childe only hums, seemingly lost in thought as his eyes gloss over the scenic view.

The streets suddenly fell silent, except for the rustling of paper and hushed whispers. It felt as though everyone was holding their breath, waiting to see what the Harbinger would command. You weren't sure if other Fatuus had already come around here and wreaked some havoc, or if they were just unsettled because of the way Childe's smile never met his eyes.

Then, at last, he walks some ways out to a more secluded spot. The lights here are dimmer and the silence even more deafening. You find your eyes searching around for any other signs of life, despite knowing that Childe did not bring you here to have you killed. Not yet, at least.

"I was thinking," he says, eyes closely gauging your reaction, "of extending my stay."

He's not asking for your input, that much you can tell.

"There's still a lot I'd like to see around here. So, what do you say?" The warm smile is everything but inviting, now. It feels like you're about to sign a deal with the devil.

"I'll have to see if the Akademiya—"

He sighs, "The Akademiya works for us. That wasn't what I was asking." Almost as quickly as it dropped, the all too familiar grin is back on his face, "what about it, then?"

You think back to the calloused hands stained red and the blades concealed on his person. It would take less than a moment for him to pounce. How many of his subordinates are waiting for his orders, hidden in the dark and ready to attack? You remember the bloodstained Harbinger you were introduced to all those days ago, that look of uninhibited delight clear in his eyes. Childe—Tartaglia—was not asking for your opinion. He did not have to go through the pleasantries of pretending to do so, because there was clearly only one answer you could give him.

"It would be my pleasure, Master Tartaglia."

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