#how was he destroyed? what if there's steel somewhere deep down? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writingsbychlo · 2 years ago

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under violet skies | azriel

summary; the dusk court has been hidden for many millennia. with a new ruler who no longer wants to hide, threats break out. azriel was tasked with protecting the high lady, the queen, of dusk court, from an assassination attempt.

word count; 9644

notes; I love the plot, I hate the smut, so be gentle with me, okay? ki just hit 3k, and a while ago she asked for something dusk court, and azriel, and hate fucking. I hope this lil gift meets all those expectations. 🤍

You really weren’t sure how you’d ended up here. In fact, everything felt like a blur. Surely, it had only been moments ago you’d been sitting at the table with Azriel, eating breakfast, laughing with the man who was your bodyguard as he whispered jokes about your court under his breath.

Now, you watched as his shadows swirled frantically, through bleary eyes that were beginning to blacken around the edges. The pressure on your back rose, your fingers digging so hard into the cold stone tiles that your nails were tearing. What was it that Azriel had taught you, in all those months of training? You couldn't remember, your head was spinning. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear him screaming, yelling, the chains he was locked by rattling and shrieking as the metal gave nothing.

Just when the darkness was reaching the middle, when you were so desperate for breath your heart was no longer racing, the pressure loosened. You sucked in a breath, so deep it hurt as it stretched abused muscles, and a cry fell from your lips. A steel-capped boot hit your shoulder, a rough kick that flipped you over onto your back, onto the wounded muscles that were already giving you hell.

The room was a mess, what had once been your dining room, what had once been beautiful pillars of carved marble and moonstone was destroyed; smoking and flaming, debris littering the room. The dining table was cracked in two, you remembered the centuries-old oak giving way as Azriel had been thrown right through it. The windows were smashed, the pretty stained glass at the end that had cast a lavender haze over the whole room, you remembered the way flames had birth through it like shooting stars falling from the sky.

Footsteps crunched through broken glass, following where you’d rolled to a stop, one arm twisted awkwardly under your body, and the feeling of hot, sticky blood dripping from it was enough to make your stomach twist. He had a crazed look in his eyes as he waved his free hand around the room, head tipping to the side as his feet came to a stop near your head.

Azriel pulled tighter on the chains, the accomplices holding him back yanked so hard you heard something pop, and you took a shuddering breath, as best you could. “Let him go. You only want me.” Cold pressed to your throat as he crouched, your eyes snapping back, lips trembling, skin burning from the tears pouring down over them as you met the eyes of your attacker. Of the assassin sent to kill you, the one you’d known was coming, had been preparing for, and yet you’d never have been ready for this.

“Let him go?”

“Yes. Let him go.” Your voice trembled, weak as you tried to assert authority, the power that was your birthright, your power as the rightful ruler of Dusk Court, and he only laughed, bloodied teeth from his bleeding lip showing, a result of the one punch you’d managed to land before he’d gained the upper hand over you.

“See, this is why we’re here. This is why you can never rule, you’re nothing like your father.”

“I take pride in that.” He sneered, eyes blazing with a kind of rage you’d never seen before, the insanity fuelling it terrifying you to your very core. You blinked back tears, refusing to let him see any more vulnerability from you than he already had. “Kill me now, or I’ll kill you for hurting him.”

He laughed again. The sound of it made fear strike down your spine, a cold slash that left everything alert with feeling, left every damaged nerve electrified and screaming. “You’d risk your life for a piece of Night Court scum? You change things, you are doing everything wrong. Your father knew how to rule, you’re nothing but a disappointment on that throne.”

“It’s sweet to know the family has such a loyal following.”

“You have no loyalty from me.” He spat, the mixture landing on your cheek, a searing hot reminder of just how powerless you were. Your eyes closed, bile moving in the back of your throat. Your hand shook so badly as you tried to lift it that you could barely smear it away. He stepped back, rounding your body, until he was hooking a hand under your armpit. Hauling you onto your knees, the rocks and splinters dug into your skin through the thin layers of gauzy, ruined dress, until you were facing Azriel.

His lip was split, a trickle of blood running down from it, dirt and soot covered his face, a bruise forming along the right side that made you wince as you remembered the kick that had caused it. His wings were drooped, his left arm hanging limply by his side, and you wondered if that pop had actually dislocated it. His eyes were wide, his whole body all but vibrating with rage, and he struggling against the chains once again.��

“Look at him, an Illyrian. We all know of their reputations, of how they act. Bastards, monsters, degenerates, killers. You’d have, what, have our noble court follow in their footsteps? I hope dying for one of your precious Illyrians is worth it.”

Azriel was screaming now, shadows whipping in a violent frenzy as that cold knife pressed to your skin once again, not breaking the skin but enough that you could feel the blood throbbing in your neck against it. Your heart slowed, breath catching in a sob you tried to hold back, offering a shaky smile when Azriel’s desperate gaze met yours. “It’s okay, I’m dying for my mate.”

The room fell silent.

So quiet, you could hear your own heart beating in your ears.

“You’re dying for nothing.” His hand pulled back, ready to send the blade piercing into your neck, your heart, you didn’t know. Your eyes met Azriel’s, a shaky smile finding your lips.

Then, the room went black.

An explosion, swirling darkness like you’d never seen from Azriel before, barely catching glimpses of light through the hurricane of shadows closing in and in on you like a suffocating mass, until the light was gone entirely. Metal strained, shrieked, before giving way, and then blue cut through it. A solid burst of sapphire, a terrifying shot of power that illuminated the dark just enough for you to see him as he moved. There was a look on Azriel’s face you’d never seen before, a look that suggested that wasn’t Azriel at all, not the one you knew, not your mate, but someone else entirely. Someone much, much darker.

That blast hit the man behind you, the force of it sending your body flying along with his, and when you hit the stone was again, your skull collided with the ground. It was dark again, the power gone, and you were left alone. All you had to guide yourself with was the screams, the sounds of gut-twisting torture as bodies were torn apart, the wet sounds of flesh tearing, the sounds of bones breaking, the sounds of lives ending. You didn’t pity them, but it didn’t stop you from being terrified.

You did all you could, you pressed yourself close to the floor, forehead to the tiles as you wept, a hand over your body, body shaking so violently your joins scraped the rough floor. You could only hope it was Azriel who found you first.

You waited.

And waited.

Eyes closed, soothing yourself with the sounds of your own cries, until the screaming stopped, until only one man’s heavy panting echoed off of the wreckage of the room. You cracked an eye open, watching the shadows crawl back, slowly, slowly, until you could see your own hands in front of your face again, until you could see the wreckage of the room.

Blood, spattered everywhere. Across the tapestries and walls ad painting. Guts, hanging from bodies, the metallic smell in the air only making the queasiness worse. And then, Azriel, on one knee before the very same man who’d had a knife to your throat. The knife, still clutched in his hand, his hand clutched in Azriel’s, was now buried in his throat.

It was a sickening sound as Azriel pulled the blade free, wiping it on the thigh of his leathers as he stood, and sheathing a new blade on his belt. A trophy. Rivers of red ran from him, along black leather, along golden skin, from raven hair. You hoped none of it was his.

His eyes met yours, his shoulders still heaving, something cold and emotionless sitting in them, but as your gazes locked, you felt the bond in your chest hum. That golden thread that had been dead for so long pulled tight, and you watched his body stiffen, heard his sharp intake of breath.

The rush of it, it gave you just enough strength to get to your feet, to stumble over your shredded dress and the ruins of your home towards him. He remained still, so still it was like he was a statue, watching you move until you collapsed into him. Your hands smoothed up his chest, coming away red-coated, but you didn’t care, not as you cupped his face, thumbs smoothing over his cheek as you took in your battered mate.

“Az..”

Your lip wobbled. His didn’t. Instead, it curled down in a snarl, a sound that echoed harshly along your body. His hands come up, wrapping tightly around your wrists, yanking your trembling hands from his face.

“Do not fucking touch me.”

You gaped, the thread in your chest going dead once again as his walls snapped up. Cold and hard and heartbreaking.

You reached for him again when his hands let you go, only to watch as he turned, watching his back as he stormed from the room, shadows dragging with him like a cloak of pure darkness, until he was gone.

Once again, you fell to your knees, one hand clutching at your chest.

This time, you didn’t hide your sob, nor the loud wail that tore from you on a sore throat as you reached the ground.

“The threat is taken care of, so you’ll no longer be needing my services.” Azriel appeared as he always did, silent and terrifying, all but manifesting out of the shadows as he walked through the door, refusing to even show the decency of knocking. He was clad in his leathers once again, but no longer did blood streak down them, no longer were they torn and burned. He looked better than he had the last time you’d seen him, a week of healing had done him good, those Illyrian genes had fixed him up far faster than you had. There were still bruises along your back, your neck, your soul. He didn’t observe you the way you looked at him, he refused to look at you at all, stalking towards the desk on the opposite side of you and slamming a letter down onto it. “I expect you’ll be wanting this.”

He slid it with two fingers across the polished oak, before pulling back, hands tucking firmly behind his back, wings pulled tight. You didn’t pick it up, but continued to stare at him, watching him observe the space of your private office. He’d never been here before, not this close to your bedroom, the door behind you to it still wide open. You’d been on bed rest all week, waiting for him to visit you, to talk to you. He’d never come, so you’d had to pull rank and summon him.

A muscle twitched in his tight jaw as though he was thinking the same thing. Finally picking up the letter and running your thumb under the seal on the back, three mountains and three stares glared at you from within the swirling grey wax. It popped open, your fingers delicately folding it open.

It didn’t say much, a small, hastily scrawled letter in his unique cursive, bluntly explaining how he’d be leaving in the morning. His duties as a bodyguard and nothing more were completed, and when dawn broke, he would leave for the Night Court once again. Permanently.

He stayed silent as you read, only daring to glance in your direction when you pressed it down flat onto the wood before you, smoothing it out, reading it again. And again. Your threat stung, an entirely new pain from the one you’d been recovering from all week, and when you looked up at him, that same empty look was present in his gaze. Vacant, unfeeling, void.

“You’re leaving?” He only nodded, stiffly, maintaining the eye contact for a second before dropping it once again, holding his chin high and staring over your head. Azriel had never made you feel small, never made you feel weak or helpless, not like he was now. He was leaving, you’d laid everything bare for him, your bond, your love, your life, and he wanted none of it. “I see.”

You lifted a pen, dipping it delicately into the ink, the tip hovering for only a second over the paper before you were signing it neatly. He let out a slight sigh as he watched the signature be drawn. Whiskey-eyes narrowed on you, as though he’d expected more; a fight, and argument, a royal demand like the one you’d used to get him here in the first place, but you had no fight left to give.

“Thank you, Azriel, of the Night Court. Your services were more than I could have asked for.” It ached to even speak, to put a distance between you both like this, like he hadn't become your best friend, your confidant, the only man you’d ever loved. The only man who’s made you feel safe. This office felt far too small with him in it, and the palace felt far too big with the idea of him gone. “I’ll write to your High Lord, thank him personally for your services. I’ll be sure to send-”

Your voice cracked, his wings twitched behind his body as his head snapped back to you, and you only cleared your throat, putting on the same smile he’d trained you in months ago, to hide everything you really felt. You never thought you’d have to turn it on him.

“I’ll be sure to send ample rewards for your services.”

He lingered a moment longer, hands flexing behind his back, before one reached out, spinning on his heel. He was almost at the door, hand hovering over the handle, when he turned back to you. “How long did you know?”

There was only one answer. “The night of my coronation.”

He visibly blanched, shoulders locking so tight you swore it must hurt. “That was almost a year ago.”

It was your turn to nod. Almost a year ago, Azriel had found you, surrounded by piles of lavender tulle and silk, sunken down onto the floor with your crown gripped in your hands, unable to even breathe. Almost a year ago, scarred fingers had wiped tears from your face and told you how to be strong, taught you how to be fearless, promised you it would get better. Almost a year ago, you’d realised exactly where the shadowsinger belonged. It had always been right there, at your side.

“You’ve known for almost a year?” The cold mask of indifference broke, that simmering anger you’d known had been there breaking through as it rose, but at least it was something. You stood, walking around the desk slowly, intending to pour yourself and him a drink, but Azriel had other plans. “You kept this from me for almost a year?”

His shout was so loud that the glasses on the tray rattled. “Look at the way you’re reacting now, Azriel. You pretend to feel nothing, but you feel everything so deeply. If I had told you, can you say you wouldn't have run scared, let that fear consume you?”

“I have waited five hundred years for my mate, I have told you such, I had laid the deepest parts of myself and my wishes out for you to see and you still didn’t tell me? I told you how much I wanted you, and you never told me.” Beneath the anger, beneath all that fiery rage was hurt, just like the hurt you were feeling, and it bounced down that strained bonds between your bodies, no matter how much he tried to hide it or keep you out. “You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie, Azriel. I simply just didn’t tell you the truth.”

His scoff felt like a slap. “Oh, such a political thing to say. I don’t know what you were ever scared of, you’re a natural politician.”

That felt like a knife.

If he could make cheap shots, so could you.

“This is why I did not tell you. I knew you’d run away, like a coward. Just like you are now. I have waited for you for days, and for days you have avoided me, hidden away like a scolded child, and now you’re going home. You’re going back to hiding in your shadows, so you can observe the world from afar, longing to be a part of it, but never having the guts to join it.”

“You don’t know me!” It was an uncharacteristic burst, a few footsteps closer to accompany it, and you shrugged.

“I know you better than anyone. Including, perhaps, yourself.”

His shoulders were heaving, ragged breaths sucked into his lungs as he glared at you with such hatred it lit you up from the inside out. His wings flared, chest tightening, and then he was stalking towards you.

You backed up, all the way until your back was pressed to the wall, until he was so close you could smell the night lingering on him, the swirling mists and dewy forests, all heightened with his emotions, rolling off of him in waves.

“I hate you.”

The feeling was mutual, he was running scared, breaking both of your hearts because he was too scared to give his to you. “I hate you t-”

His mouth descended onto your own, a kiss that knocked the very breath from your lungs, that had your head slamming back into the wall behind you with the force of it. Hot and angry, he wasted no time, the months of tension building between you two finally coming to a head like the eruptions of a volcano. Large hands settled on your hips, pressing you back into the wall, a dull ache in your back forming, a cry on your lips, and then it was gone.

Gone, because in that moment of weakness, in that sound, he’d slipped his tongue into your mouth, powerful kisses growing deeper and wetter, overpowering you in every way as he crowded in closer. Close enough that you could barely slip a hand between your bodied, close enough that you could feel his heart racing against your chest, beating against his ribs, searching for your own.

Mates.

That bond was singing, pulling tight, wrapping around you both as you tried to keep up with him, to kiss him back with everything you had. To show him you loved him, you were sorry, you just wanted to make him happy after all, you didn’t want it to end like this.

To show him it didn’t have to end at all.

His teeth bit your lower lip, hard enough to sting, to draw another cry from you as pleasure and pain blended into a mix that made your head spin. His teeth all but knocked against yours, your lungs burning for breath once again as he took the trauma you’d felt a week ago, and rewrote it into something new. Every nightmare that had plagued you for days felt so small now, as he held you, as he caged you in, broad frame tall enough that all you could see was him, all-consuming and devastatingly handsome.

“I hate you,” He growled it into your mouth, one hand sliding up along your front, so confident in his touches that you almost whimpered as he grazed over your breasts, before his fingers were skimming lightly over the bruises on your neck, settling there comfortably. “I hate you for making me wait four hundred years for you.”

“I hate you for running away when you found out.” He squeezed, your oxygen cutting off for barely a second, and his lips moved down to your neck as you gasped. Biting, sucking, marking you as his with his mouth until you felt like every bone in your body was bending to his command. He let you go, let you take a breath, his lips grazing your jaw.

“I hate your smart fucking mouth.”

You brought a hand up to his face, pulling his lips back to your own, a grateful hum leaving you as your mouths met again, your sighs tangling in the middle, and the bond in your chest jerked happily at the contact.

It may not have been a loving kiss, it may not have been a kind kiss, in fact, every part of it was utterly brutal, but you loved it.

“I hate the way you never tell me what you’re feeling.”

“I’m doing it now!” And then it changed, the hand on your neck smoothing down, sitting over your neck rather than squeezing it, thumb swiping over the purple marks littering your skin almost tenderly, as his mouth slowed from fervent to deep, something so erotic that the world seemed to slip away around you, nothing but the feel of him, the taste of him, remaining. His hands moved, tugging at the strings on the front of your dress, and you supposed that yes, he was telling you how he felt. Desperate, needy, betrayed and hurt and most of all scared. It was there to read in actions like a book. “I hate all these fucking strings.”

Fabric tore, the simple ties on the front of your dress giving way, and you tore your lips from his to look down at the mess. The corset was laying on the floor by your feet, the simple undershirt pooled around your waist, barely holding onto your arms it slumped down to your wrists, taut nipples exposed, shining skin with a glisten of sweat as you panted, and Azriel merely smirked when you looked back to him. “I hate that you’re such a fucking brute.”

His hands skimmed down your body, silently pushing away the rest of the material until it could pool at your feet, cold air sweeping in from the open window and making goosebumps rise along your exposed flesh, nothing but your panties and your crown left on your body now. He was still dressed, it was entirely unfair, and you began to tug with unsteady hands at the clasps holding his leathers shut.

“I hate these fucking leathers.” The front came loose, your hands smoothing over his ribs to behind his body, drawing the two of you ever the closer as his hands roamed across your hips, toying with the lace scrap covering you.

“No, you don’t.” He knew just how good he looked in them, a spark in his eyes that said he knew what he did to you, the arrogant prick, and whatever semblance of softness had formed in the last few seconds was wiped back out by the smug look he wore, your anger sparking at him once again.

But, he was right, and when he snapped the elastic against your skin, kissing along every mark he’d made on your neck already, your gasp was submission enough for him. “No, I don’t.”

“Good girl,” He mumbled, a rasp to his voice that made you heady with the thrill, nipping at your collarbone enough to make you jerk against him. His body only pressed you further into the wall. His fingers skimmed down, over the front of your panties, pressing at your clit softly through the material, and you were putty in his hands. He dragged the drenched material covering you to the side, one finger skimming through your folds, and you swore you forgot how to breathe as the anticipation became suffocating. “See how much better it all is when you tell the truth?”

A single, long finger slammed into you, sheathed in a single movement and a scream tore from your lips in shock. Your back arched, body curling as his thumb found your clit, pressing in rough circles that had you gasping against the hand still curled loosely at your throat. “Oh, fuck, Azriel..”

His finger crooked, rough scars dragged against you as he pulled it back, only to slam in again. It was an assault, the kind of stimulation that made your breaths shallow, eyes rolling back in your head, hips jutting up to roll into his palm as he used that single digit to throw you into ecstasy. Your fingers felt numb as you continued to tug at his leathers, as those final buckles behind his back you hadn’t managed, tearing at them until your fingertips hurt and they finally came loose.

You shoved at them, dragging them from his body in a frantic motion to get your hands on as much of him as he had of you, your breasts bouncing with every rough pound of his finger into your core. A hiss left his lips as a buckle grazed the bottom of his wing, wings that flared out as you finally stripped him of his leathers, more heavy fabric dropping between you both and revealing miles of inked, golden skin for you to explore.

There was a dark look in his eyes, one as dark as it had been days ago, only for entirely new reasons, and instead of scaring you, this one set every cell in your body alight. He met you halfway, instinct acting for you both as your mouths clashed together, a hot mess of tongues and lips as he claimed dominance over every part of you. That free hand slid up, until he was rolling one nipple between a thumb and forefinger, pinching to make you cry out, and he chuckled darkly against your skin.

“I spent months imagining what kinds of sounds you’d make for me, but nothing compares to the sweet sound of my name on your lips.” He pressed a simple peck there, like a drug you were already hooked on you followed for more, and he slipped his hand back to your throat, pressing you back into the wall. His finger stilled for just a second, your body clenching ceaselessly around it, and you whimpered, needing him to keep going. “Say it again.”

“Earn it, and I will.” Your hips bucked against his hand, a challenge sparked in his eyes, and his hand moved. His touch left you entirely, until he was stepping back, only his hand at your throat keeping you from following him, from pathetically latching yourself to him as you stared. He looked like a god of old; rippling muscles flexing with every breath, whorls of dark ink, messy hair that matched, swollen lips still shining with your kisses, and eyes bright as he stared at you in the same way. “Azriel, please.”

“There we go.” He muttered, thumb swiping across your jaw in a soothing reward, your head tipped a little further into his touch as his hand slipped up to cup your face. He leaned in, dipping so close your lips parted, and he diverted just as his mouth brushed yours. A kiss to your jaw, to your neck, a flick of his tongue over your nipple as he lowered himself further and further, until he was mouthing at the sensitive skin below your navel. Your panties were dragged down your hips until you were stepping out of them, and when he looked up at you from his knees, you swore reverence and devotion lay in his eyes. He kissed at your knee, then the other, hands on your ankles yanking your legs apart and you grasped at the wall for balance.

“You’ve moaned my name for me, but now I want you to scream it.”

His tongue swept along your core, punctuating his sentence and your entire body keened, almost collapsing into him right then and there. He did it again, rough strokes that ended at your clit, your fingers lacing into his hair, pulling on it while pushing him closer. His lips sealed around the bud at the apex of your thighs, sucking harshly as fingers crawled up from your ankles once again, swiping through the mess you were surely making, swirling in the build-up gathered there.

You gasped, a whispered plea falling from your lips but even you didn’t know what for. He seemed to know, the tip of his tongue swirling lightly at your entrance, before sipping inside, wet muscle stretching you slowly, thicker than the width of that one finger, and every thought emptied from your head.

The cool breeze from the window did little to soothe the heat inside of you, did nothing to ease the tremors wracking your body as you jerked and pleased, his tongue fucking you as his thumb played with your clit, filthy sounds that would haunt you every night when you touched yourself for the rest of the night as he moaned against you. “Oh, gods, Az..”

“I thought I told you to scream, sweetheart.” Two fingers slammed into your body in place of his tongue as he moved his attention back to your throbbing bud, and scream you did. His name bounced off of the walls, and you didn’t care if every worker and every guard and every citizen in all of Dusk could hear him taking you apart, you needed him more badly than you needed oxygen.

He bit at you, just enough to tease, before soothing licks were taking over once again and you were rocking your hips again this face, holding him where he was, his name like a mantra on your lips over and over as he carried you toward the brink of the best orgasm you’d ever had. It was building, like an inferno, burning you up from the inside out, and when you came, it was with a scream that snapped off to silence, head thrown back and banging on the wall so hard it hurt. The throb eddied away, as everything in you focused on the way he kept going, riding you through it like it pleased him as much as it pleased you.

If the noises he was making between your thighs were anything to go by, he was.

He didn’t stop, fingers still going, your body spasming as he took your pleasure for his own, moaning against you as he licked up everything you had to give. When your legs buckled, he lifted one knee over his shoulder, supporting your weight with his own frame and diving even deeper.

Wet fingers pulled out of you, gripping your other thigh and hauling that one over his shoulder two, smearing your arousal across your skin as his tongue moved back to where it had once been, sending a sharp surge of pleasure so acute up your spine you felt like you’d been electrified.

“Azriel.. Az.. oh, fuck, I can’t- I-”

“I want you to come again, on my tongue this time. Let me feel you, sweetheart.” Your head was tossed back, whimpering weakly against the wall as he worked, your body never relaxing as he worked you right into another orgasm, dirty whispers from between your thighs with the abuse of his tongue and lips until everything was shaking and trembling, the room spinning with dizzy bliss.

A single finger, again, knowing it was enough that one finger could drive you wild as he pressed down on that spot inside of you that made a scream louder than the rest break free. He knew you, knew your body like he’d had you for years, and you called for his attention by yanking on that bond in his chest as tears welled in your eyes, so fucked out you could barely even draw breath. He ignored it, pace only picking up.

He didn’t stop, not the rough drags of his tongue over your clit, so sensitive every touch felt like delicious torture, not as you shook and pulled on his hair, hips bucking.

He didn’t stop, not until he was the only thing holding you up now, as tears streamed down your face, your desperate begging falling on deaf ears, until you pulled his head away from your abused core by a handful of his hair.

Golden skin glistened, and you took shaking breaths, head falling back against the wall as your body twitched. That one finger slipped out of you, a broken cry leaving your lips as a gush of your arousal followed, and he twisted his head, a wet kiss pressed to the inside of your thigh, marking you with your own scent.

He lowered one of your legs to the ground, the other following, and your knees buckled, his arm sliding around your waist and acting as the only thing holding you up as he rose to his feet once again. He kissed as he went, kisses that would taste like you, kisses to every twitching muscle, every spot that was still trembling, until his forehead was pressed to your own, soothing strokes of a big hand over your ribs as you calmed, hiccuping through your breaths as you recovered.

“What a mess you are, look at you,” His words were mean, but his tone was soft, and you whimpered, nudging your nose against his own, any shred of affection would warm you. You were scared, scared that he’d take you apart, break you down and reduce you to tears and then leave. “If only your kingdom could see you now, crying for the bastard.”

Your lips parted, words ready to roll off your tongue when his mouth closed over your own, a surprised moan leaving you as his tongue languidly spread the taste of yourself to your own mouth, his skin still damp with your juices, his slick finger tipping up your chin. A mess indeed.

“What was it you were going to say? You finally wanted to speak up?” He was mocking you, stealing your words from you.

“You’re-” He did it again, silencing you with his lips, lazy kisses that you could get lost in, hands exploring every inch of one another’s body slowly as that frantic haze had cooled into something far more passionate now.

“Try harder, High Lady.”

“I said, you-” Again, his mouth quieted you, and despite your whine, despite your desperation to speak, you clung to him, arms thrown around his neck as his found a home around your waist, hauling you his body until you were on your tiptoes to kiss him. His hips sat snugly to your body, his erection pressing firmly into your hip as layers of thick leather tried to hold him back, tried to hide just how much he wanted you.

His mouth left your own, lips soothing softer kisses over the drying tear tracks on your cheeks as you panted.

“I’m trying to say,” You paused, waiting to see if he’d cut you off again, but he didn’t. You cupped his face, pulling him back to be able to truly look at him now. His brows were furrowed, lips twisted in a frown; he was just as prepared for more pain as you were, and your heart broke at the sight. The last thing you’d ever wanted to do was hurt him, not when you loved him this much. “You’re not a bastard, Azriel. Not here. Not with me.”

He let himself sink into the moment, the love, for just a second, before adoration was glazing over with lust once again. It took little effort for him to scoop you up, for him to stride with you in his arms across the room, and to toss you down onto the bedding. Shadows writhed across it, encasing you both in murky darkness, sliding away to the floor in sated reams as Azriel stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at you.

You knelt up, crawling towards him and smoothing your hands up his chest as his own fingers toyed with the laces of his leathers, freeing his cock, and tossing his head back with a groan as he wrapped his fingers around himself. “Oh, fuck. You have no idea how many times I’ve touched myself, just like this, thinking of you.”

“Yeah?” You kissed his jaw, his free hand smoothing around your waist, over your ass, dipping down until he could thrust two fingers into you in a single motion, and your body toppled forward into his. “Oh, fuck, Azriel…”

“Imagined what you’d feel like wrapped around me,” his fingers moved, pounding within you at the same pace he pumped his cock, matching thrust for thrust until you were shaking against him once again. “How good you’d take me. Imagined my cum dripping out of you, making a mess on all these expensive silk sheets. I imagined fucking you dumb, until you couldn't lie anymore, couldn't even speak anything except my name.”

You were teetering on the edge of an orgasm, one that was ruined as he pulled back, and your nails scraped lines into his chest as you clawed at him desperately, at his arm, pulling his hand back to your body, gasping his name as the feeling ebbed away. He kicked off the remaining clothes he wore, hands closing over your hips, turning you around and tossing you like a rag-doll, dragging you up to bed until you were where he wanted you.

Giving it all up, ass up in the air, forehead to the mattress, surrendering everything to him, and he teased the head of his cock through your folds, nudging against your oversensitive bud until you cried out, writhing in his tight hold. There would be fingertip-shaped bruises on your hips in the morning, you had no doubt.

The crown atop your head rolled off as you bucked back against him, the head of his thick cock gliding into you, thick enough to stretch you out, jaw going slack at the slight burn even that offered. He paused, fingers flexing on your hips.

“Put that back on. I want to look at it while I fuck you, princess.”

Indignant rage sparked in your chest as he leaned over you, planting the crown haphazardly on your head, having the gall to not only handle it, handle you, so roughly, but to demote you within your bedroom. “I’m a fucking queen.”

“Not in this room. In this room, you’re just my cock-drunk little slut,” He sheathed himself within you in one solid thrust, your fingers twisting in the bedsheets as nothing short of a pornographic sound left your lips. He didn't go slow, he didn’t go gentle. He treated you as he always had, not royalty, not something to be protected, but his equal.

He was angry, at himself and at you, at the world, and it showed.

Every thrust that had his hips snapping into yours, the sound of skin on skin bouncing around the room as you tried to push back, body trembled as you hurtled towards another mind-bending orgasm, every point he touched lighting up like standing too close to a flame. He was your everything, every sense and cell honing in on him, the bond in your chest glowing with so much light you felt heat pouring off of it, felt the vibrations as you panted, screaming his name in broken thrusts as he fucked you.

He was right, you were no queen in this room. You were debauched, ruined, covered in the smell of sex and cum, his mess, his mate.

Yet, despite it all, something far more important shimmered underneath. It showed in the softer touches, the smooth of his fingers over your ribs, the kisses placed on every still-fading bruise along your spine as he made his way up your body, covering you more and more. It showed in the way he held you, reverent and needy, even in his anger.

He all but smothered you as he leaned over you, needy pants of your name spilling from his lips as he reduced you to nothing but ash, sweeping away on the wind, and it became more than just sex. It wasn’t hate fucking, it wasn’t just two people giving up to the tension, it was mates finding one another, it was so much more. His hand closed over your own on the bedding, lips pressing to your shoulder as he fucked into you, whispers of your name in your ear.

“You might give the orders outside of this bedroom, but just look how well you take mine. Now, cum.”

Your body sparked alive, the knot in your stomach snapping and it was only his arm around your hips holding you up as he fucked you through it that stopped you from falling into a twitching mess on the bedding, your arousal seeping from you, dripping down your legs, making exactly the kind of mess he had wanted. His thrusts faltered a little, the growls and moans he’d been making were becoming needier, frantic, his wings flaring out and covering the two of you like a shield from the world as he neared his own high.

Your fingers parted beneath his hand, spreading until his own digits fell through the cracks, wrapping around yours in the bedding until he was holding on so tightly you thought he may even leave an imprint. You wanted him to. You’d get it tattooed if you could.

“Azriel..” He groaned, the only indication he was listening at all, and you twisted your head to him, his forehead pressed into your shoulder from behind as he sat snugly up against you, hips snapping together frantically. “Az, honey, I want to face you when you cum. I want to see you.”

“Oh, fuck..”

His motions were jerky, quick, like he couldn't trust himself not to cum as he pulled back, stepping away from you entirely. You rolled onto your back, propped up on weak elbows to look at him. He was destroyed, shining with sweat that made him look like he was glowing, wings drooped out by his sides, shadows twisting around his ankles and calves, cock glistening with your arousal, standing tall before himself, and he bit a swollen lip as he let you stare.

“Gods, you’re so fucking beautiful, and so fucking good for me..”

“Come here, Azriel.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, falling back into your arms, body crushed down, pulled in, by the weight of whatever was shifting between you both. When he slid into you once again, his fingers wove with your own, pinning you down to the bed and setting a harsh rhythm, chasing his own high as you both balanced on the edge. “I hate you..”

You could barely breathe, his gaze locked on your own, fingers squeezed together as you bucked up to meet him, back arching against the bed, ecstasy drowning you in waves and you were clinging to his words for air.

“I hate you, because I don’t hate you at all. I love you more than anything in this fucking world.” His confession sent you tumbling over the edge into another orgasm, your eyes rolling back in your head, crown tipped to one side, and when your lips parted, he dipped down, mouth meeting yours.

This was different to all the other kisses, it wasn’t threats and anger and hurt, it was promises and love and forgiveness, it was intoxicating, it was blissful, and you could barely kiss back, but it didn’t matter. His mouth stilled, groaning long and deep into your mouth, a cry of your name as his whole body locked.

Heat exploded as he came, filling you up so deep, so much that you could feel it leaking out of you around him even as he stayed tucked deep inside of you, his hips pressed to yours. You panted, tasting him on every breath as he came, your fingers running soothing touches along his body like he had done for you, until he collapsed down. Too weak to hold himself up, too weak to leave, strong enough to come back at all.

Your arms looped around his body, linking behind his back as his wings dropped their tension, following down, shadows crawling up over your bodies like a blanket. You stayed like that, long enough to catch your breath and calm your racing hearts. Long enough to clear the fog from your mind, allow you to think clearly once again. Long enough to feel the cold from the open window, to feel the weight of him pressing down, your only source of warmth.

Long enough to feel him start to grow restless.

You freed one hand from his back, selfishly stealing another moment or two for yourself before he was gone, running your fingers through silky, damp hair and trying to commit every part of him to memory, before he was nothing but a ghost, only living on in your memories.

He pushed himself up on shaky arms, his warmth leaving you as he rolled away from you and onto his back, wings tucked tight to his body, and he stared at the ceiling. You felt used, his cum still leaking from you, hating how good it felt when you knew the pain that was coming. It was almost enough to make you sick.

“I’m sorry, Azriel.”

His head twisted in your direction, brows furrowed, and you could see him from your peripherals but couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze properly. Instead, you sat up, crown discarded in the bedding, the last piece of armour taken off.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But, more than that, I’m sorry I never came to find you. I couldn't but that didn’t mean I never thought about you, before I ever knew who you were.”

His fingers reached out, dragging along your spine until they fell to the bed, a phantom touch you’d remember for the rest of your life. Comfort, even when you didn’t necessarily deserve it.

“For centuries, I’ve dreamed of meeting you, of meeting my mate. I walked to that border so many times, held my hand over the air until I was too close, until the spell burned my fingertips and warned me back, until the pain was too much to bear. So many times I wished I could come and find you. I knew you had to be out there, over the years I was sure if you were here, I’d have known you, you were right on the other side of that goddamn barrier and I couldn't get to you. When my father died and that wall came crashing down, I felt awful, because I didn’t feel awful at all. No sorrow or sadness for a cruel man, all I felt was relief, and happiness, and freedom, even if I was chained to a throne.”

You took a deep breath, no tears coming at the memory of your father or the kingdom you now had, but tears came at the idea of doing it all alone, forever. You’d had love, you’d had Azriel, and if come morning he was gone, you knew you’d likely never love again.

“If it’s been too long, if my cowardice of losing you when I finally had you pushed you too far, if it’s too late and it hurts too much, I will understand. I will love you no matter where you are Azriel, but I don’t expect you to love me back if it hurts, and I won’t blame you if-”

You felt the bed shift, turning to look at where Azriel was now sitting up, his hand finding your cheek as his lips closed over yours. The tears in your eyes spilt over once again as he kissed you, smearing between your cheeks as he gave his best to show you how he felt. “I’m not going anywhere. I didn’t know, what it was like for you, how scared you were. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words only brought a fresh wave of sobs, disbelief still etched into your mind, and he kissed along your cheeks, soft strums on the bond that felt like kisses to your spirit as he eased you across, back down toward the bed with him until you lay facing one another.

“I love you. I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You said you were! You were going to leave me at dawn, you were-” He mumbled an apology onto your lips, coaxing you to kiss him back until the frantic fear you felt had ebbed away. He ran the back of a finger over your cheeks, wiping away the tears.

“I think it would kill me to leave you now.” Azriel lay his head down on the pillow you used, his nose brushing yours with every deep breath he took, concern still swimming in his eyes as he watched you. “I was scared too.”

“I know.”

“But you were wrong to hide it from me. We have to tell the truth from now on, I have to know your heart fully.”

“My heart is already yours, Azriel.” He only smiled, the first honest and genuine smile you’d seen since that fateful morning at breakfast before everything had gone wrong. “The truth, always, I prom-”

His hand cupped over your mouth, eyes wide as he stared. “Do you know what making a promise to someone from the Night Court means?”

“I do.” Your words were muffled behind his hand, his eyes only widening further. “And I promise, Azriel, to always be honest, even if it scares me. To love you the way you deserve to be loved, if you’ll let me.”

Your wrist burned, a sharp strike of pain before it was vanishing, and Azriel lowered his hand from your mouth, agape as you took in the new mark on your wrist. A small, perfect whorl now marred perfect skin, and you smoothed your thumb over it. He took your wrist gently, raising your hand to his mouth so he could kiss it softly. “I promise to match that, to match you, with honesty and love.”

He didn’t flinch as a matching mark formed on his own wrist, but when you kissed it like he had done for you, he smiled. That arm then snuck out, over your hips, tugging you in closer until there was barely a sliver of space between you anymore. Your hand smoothed through his hair again, before coming to rest on his cheek, a look of love on his face you thought you would never see. “I’m so happy I found you.”

“What made you come to the Night Court? When you realised you were in danger from one of your own people, you could have gone to anyone. Day would have been safer, Helion would have been able to trace the spell on you, and believed you right away. You wouldn't have had to convince him as you did Rhysand. Or Dawn, or even Summer. Why Night, when we had a reputation even you must’ve heard.”

You didn’t really have an answer, but he wanted one. “I don’t know. I just felt like that was the place to go. It felt like the right decision.” Azriel tugged twice at the bond between your bodies, already so strong, you could only imagine how much stronger it would get once you’d officially confirmed it.

“It’s going to be hard, y’know.” He rolled away, rasp in his voice as he untucked the blankets from your bodies, lifting them up and over you both slowly, his shadows pushing shut the open windows silently.

“What is?”

“This.” He waved a finger between your bodies as he settled back in, sitting up among the pillows and letting a heavy sigh out, and you propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him. “Hiding this, I mean.”

“Why would we hide it?”

Insecurity crept in, and a ragged sigh left him as you felt his own equal insecurities come flooding toward you. It was accompanied by sadness, and longing for you, even though you were right there. It broke your heart, it broke his heart, and you had no idea why. “I’m.. I’m your bodyguard. I’m a hired killer from the Night Court, it would not be approved of. It would make your life so hard.”

It was like a splash of freezing water, like stepping in the crystal pools of Dusk in the depths of the winter season, frozen right down to the bones within seconds. Reality was a bitch. Pressing your lips together, you sighed, a single thought flittering through your head and as you tried to suppress it, the bond on your wrist burned, hot and painful until the words spilled from you; “I’ll abdicate.”

“No. You can’t.” He shook his head, you both knew it wasn’t an option. “You worked so hard to build this kingdom back up, to make relations with other courts, to make alliances, you love it.”

“I love you more.”

“I won’t let you give it up.” His voice was firm, an end of discussion, and hard boundary, but there was one more option. You didn’t need the prompt of your promise this time.

“Fine. Then you become King.”

A startling laugh left him, self-pitying and shy, and you stared, unwavering until he calmed. “I can’t be a king.”

“Says who?”

He didn’t laugh this time, he just lay, quietly, holding your gaze for as long as he could bare it before you felt his shame force him to snap away, swallowing thickly against the upcoming tidal wave of emotion he was doubtless fighting. “I can’t.. I wasn’t born for this. I was born for war and blood, I’m a bastard and a brute from the Steppes. I can’t rule. I’m not noble. I’m already a tarnish on you.”

“Do you know where shadowsingers come from?”

“What?” He was covered with confusion once again as he dared to turn back to look at you, at the change in topic. “They come from the dark.”

“No, Azriel, they do not.” Your fingers reached out, dipping into the swirling mass of black that surrounded you both, and a single shadow crawled up your arm, Azriel’s eyes widening as he realised it was not acting of his own accord, nor his, but yours. “There are no shadows in the dark, Azriel. Shadows require light to exist. Shadows do not come from Night as there is no light, they do not come from Day as it is too bright, nor Dawn, as dawn is the awakening, not the sleep. Shadowsingers come from Dusk. That is why there are so few in your world, because the genes stopped being passed down. I don’t know how repressed, how far back, but you, my love, have Dusk blood running through your veins. This is your heritage, right here.”

Azriel was speechless, a sudden breath leaving him as his chest deflated, and he turned to face you a little more. “There’s more like me?”

“Many more, Azriel. I had no idea you thought you were alone. I’ve met hundreds of shadowsingers in my lifetime.” He let out a wet laugh, shock taking over his face as he flopped back into the pillows, one hand scrubbing down his face. “You belong here, and if you want to go back to Night, I will abdicate. If you want to stay, I’ll crown you King myself. But I will not love you in secret, Azriel. Not when I have so much love to give you.”

“You have too much faith in me.” His voice wavered, but it sounded like he’d made his mind up as he took a shaky breath.

“Well, I have to have enough faith for us both until you believe in yourself.” Picking up the discarded crown, you knelt up, and raised it high enough to place shimmering gold into his hair, adjusting it perfectly and brushing the hair it flattened away from his face. “What a handsome High Lord you’d make.”

You teased him with his own wording, a term that had been overruled by your father to place distance between yourselves and the other courts, and one you looked forward to taking back. His grin split his face like sunshine through clouds, nervous laughter following as he reached up to touch it.

“And what a pretty smile. You’ll have everyone eating from the palm of your hand in no time, they’ll like you more than me.”

“Impossible.” He leaned in, sweeping you up and into a kiss, one that was bursting with smiles and laughter and love, and your hands came up, holding the crown firmly to his head as it tipped. You’d make him his very own, one that was his, that showed just how much he meant, and you’d place it on his head yourself. Crown him before everyone. Your love, your mate, your High Lord. “It’s heavy.”

“It takes some getting used to.” You whispered back, stealing a couple more kisses from him before settling back, admiring him lounging in the bed. Naked, silk sheets pooled low around his waist, crown sitting askew in his hair with a smile on his lips.

“I can’t wait to see the look on Rhys’ face when he realises he’s not the only High Lord in the family, now.”

#azriel/reader #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader smut #azriel/reader smut #acotar/you #acotar x you #acotar/reader #acotar x reader #azriel x you #azriel/you #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #under violet skies

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sxddekarios · 2 months ago

Text

a very wholesome magic lesson

i am back with a bg3 rebranding!! this is the first fic i've ever wrote, and it's my take on Gale's act 1 romance scene at the tiefling party. Him and Tav are both oblivious to the others' feelings. read on ao3 or here!

2.2k words (of fluff)

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“I think it’s best in my condition if I don’t get too excited,” Gale reminds himself.

“Well, who said anything about excitement? Surely you’re not *that* keen on a little magic trick. I’ve seen you do plenty of other magic.” Tav responds with her signature furrowed brows.

“It’s not … the magic, per-say. More what comes with it. Though perhaps I’ve had too much wine for this conversation.” Gale attempts to stop him self, as he usually does when he’s bitten off a bit too much to chew in the flirting department.

“For what conversation? I just want to learn some more magic. There’s no way I can go enjoy our celebration, and sleep, after this cliffhanger…” Tav trails off, trying to bait him into explaining without having to fish too directly (or embarrassingly) for it.

Gale raises an eyebrow at Tav, knowing that he’s never been able to turn down an ask of hers before. He got into this mess with the orb by being a pleaser, after all. “Have a glass of wine and I’ll see if I can handle making this much of an ass of myself” Gale sighs.

Tav grabs his glass of wine and takes a tentative sip. She makes a face, disgusted by the tartness. Luckily, she manages to swallow the offending liquid. “This is all you’re getting from me, I’m afraid. Unless you can magic this into something bearable, or you’re hiding some other vices somewhere in that tent of yours, you’re gonna have to deal with talking to a sober person right now.”

Gale looks at her in mock astonishment — “Have you no taste? Have you never drank wine before? This is a *delectable* indulgence that clearly you have not been educated on. Or, perhaps, you lack the sophistication that i’ve grown terribly used to in Waterdeep.”

Tav grimaces while preparing herself for her next attempt to shut Gale up …. at least telling him how he *should* shut up, that is. Letting out a deep breath, she grabs hold of Gale’s glass and chugs it. As much as she can anyways, which still takes an eternity too long to ensure she doesn’t choke. “It’s still horrendous. But we’re even now. Spill, before I do.”

Gale glances at the empty glass in disappointment, but holds onto it. He steels himself for his next words while keeping his eyes downward. “If you must know, I speak of … physical excitement. I can handle magic, but my heart may not be able to handle … more carnal conditions of the flesh. With the orb, I risk exploding with any activity, or *feeling*, that gets my heart beating too fast, my blood pressure too high,” Gale explains.

Tav raises an eyebrow in response. “Like, you’re gonna explode as in ….” she trails off again, hoping he’ll take the hint. She knows he must be referring to the catastrophic Netherese blast they had spoken of before, but she couldn’t help herself from teasing him about the double entendre.

The blush taking over Gale’s face and neck came on far too suddenly for him to blame it on the wine. “No! Gods no, not like that! The magic in the orb will destroy me and everything around me,” Gale exclaims. Much to his avail, Tav still doesn’t stop her line of questioning.

Crossing her arms, Tav decides to enjoy the flustered nature of a blushing, tipsy Gale. “Okay, but you’re still saying you’d explode …. literally …. because you’d explode …. sexually. You said you wanted to show me a *magic* trick, not fuck my brains out.”

She pauses for a second when he lets out an indignant gasp at her directness. “Unless I’m mistaken on what a magic trick is, in which case I think you should’ve lead with that,” Tav finished with a smirk, finally meeting his eyes. She can feel the exasperation exuding from the wizard, and she loves every second of it.

Gale has no choice but to shake his head in lack of a coherent response to Tav’s brazen words. “I suppose you’ve got me there. I can show you some magic, no nefarious subterfuge. And no explosions of any kind, mortal *or* magical,” he emphasized.

Tav worries at her lip for show. “You really won’t blow up, right? Or you’ll at least warn me if you feel too much … *excitement*, stirring? We can’t leave scratch an orphan.” She thinks of mentioning the chaos that Astarion would unleash without them to reel him in, but she didn’t want to darken the mood too much.

Gale smiles at her words and lets out a little laugh as he promises that they’ll be safe. He holds out his hand, palm up, for her to take. Tav takes a hard look at his fingers for a moment, trying to commit their beauty to memory, before gently laying her hand atop his and intertwining their fingers to be led farther out of the camp. Once they reach a more quiet spot a few minutes later, Gale stops, forfeiting her warm hand to turn to her.

“This will do. Now, I want to show you the true embrace of the Weave. It’s a full-body experience to wield the Weave and feel its support of your magic,” Gale says with a smile on his face and wonder in his eyes. Tav categorizes this as his professor face, imagining him introducing lessons to his students with this pure enthusiasm.

Nevertheless, she’s more comfortable bickering with Gale than sharing that heart-warming thought with him. “You know i’m a sorcerer, right? I’ve been using the Weave my whole life. Unlike *some* people,” she pointedly includes to rile up the wizard.

“Of course. You’ve received the gift through your ancestor’s carnal relations with some dragon, while ‘some’ of us have *worked* for it,” Gale smiled, letting her know that he was joining her sarcasm in jest. “Nonetheless, there’s a very different feeling to using the Weave that comes with the years of study a wizard has. *That* is what I wanted to show you. I know you can call on the Weave as second nature, and you do a wonderful job with it, but I want you to experience the pleasure of embracing the environment, carefully going over the incantation and hand gestures, and using this to manipulate the Weave to bring your spell into reality.”

Tav felt her heart rate sky rocket with Gale’s praise for her sorcery. She wondered if the feeling he spoke of was really common to all wizards, or if he had a deeper connection as Mystra’s former lover … or victim, if you ask her. Still, she tried to focus on the positive.

“Ah, so you took me here to teach me slow careful pleasure,” Tav teased. “Get on with it then,” she encouraged with a wave of her hand.

Gale laughed in response, a deep sound that flooded Tav’s head with a light feeling, and took over her lips with a full grin.

“As you wish,” Gale bowed his head towards Tav, and proceeded with his magic lesson.

—

After an hour of teaching Tav how to connect with the Weave in this almost spiritual manner, Gale smiled at her once again. “I know you’re genuinely a natural at magic, but you did a wonderful job with this. It’s hard for someone to harness this connection without the education of a wizard.”

Tav smiles back at Gale and considers herself. “Or, maybe you’re just a good teacher.” As sure of herself as she was in magic, she was more sure of Gale’s ability to educate others. From his admirable desire to help others to his enthusiasm for knowledge … to the voice, face, and *hands* that made it impossible to zone out on him. He didn’t need to know that last part, though.

Gale chuckles at her praise, a light blush spreading across his face. “That too. How are you feeling now?” He asks, hoping his little magic lesson has been half as joyful for her as it has been for him. He felt relaxed, renewed, grounded, and more connected to her than he had ever felt. Although, that last part may be because he’s still standing so close to her, holding her hand as he needed to guide her through the more intricate parts of spell casting.

Tav allows herself to stare into Gale’s glimmering brown eyes, feeling a psychic connection between them where her thoughts could become his without the need to be verbalized.

After a lifetime of men being upset at her, accusing her of expecting them to read her mind, here is a man who can simply do so. Of *course* it’s Gale. Tav feels her eyes well up as she revels in the intense hope, adoration, and yearning she feels for him. Gazing into Gale’s eyes, their hands still intertwined, she imagines what it would be like to press onto her tiptoes and softly kiss him.

Gale’s eyes widen with shock as the thought dances into his mind. “I - I didn’t think -” he stutters, “I wasn’t … expecting that. Not that it’s unwelcome — it was a most pleasant thought,” Gale adds in hopes that Tav doesn’t take his surprise as disinterest, or even disgust. “It just took me by surprise,” he reiterates.

Tav takes a moment to compose herself before exhaling a shaky “okay.” Then, she whips her head around as she smells bergamot wafting in from the distance. Gale follows her gaze until they both see Astarion stumbling into the clearing … closely connected to Shadowheart.

“Well, looks like we’ve got company,” Gale tries (and fails) to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “We might want to get back to camp before we have to witness whatever is going to happen here.”

Tav slowly turns back to gale, smiling as she notices his stony stare at the oblivious couple. “As long as we’re not able to hear them from camp…”

“Oh gods, I don’t even want to think of that,” Gale grimaced. “Why don’t we head back, and if we hear anything, you could come sleep in my tent?” He quickly adds,” I have a silencing ward. I’d cast one on them before we leave, but I’m afraid my concentration won’t last once I fall asleep, and I know how fitful your rest is.”

Astonishment, anger, and amusement fight for dominance over Tav. She conveys a mix of them with her slack-jawed expression. “You had a *silencing ward* on your tent this whole time? And you didn’t *tell me*?” She kept her outrage playful, although she was disappointed that he hadn’t shared this with her earlier.

“I’m sorry,” gale said in earnest as he took her hand and started leading her back towards camp. They left a wide berth for Astarion and Shadowheart to continue ripping each other’s clothes off.

“I started working on a ranged ward for your tent after I earned of your insomnia, but I never quite got it to stick. I didn’t want you to think I was coming onto you by offering a place in my tent to get some good rest. I don’t expect anything, and I could even sleep outside of it if you’re more comfortable with that.” He felt a bit less forward with the offer now that he knew she thought of kissing him — at least in that moment. Still, he never wanted her to feel pressure.

She gazed up at Gale as they reached their camp. “Really?” she asked, unsure if someone could genuinely be so kind. Last time she had an offer like that …. well, they lied about expecting nothing.

Gale squeezed Tav’s hand in reassurance as he took in the concern in her voice. “Of course. I’m sure our adventure would benefit from a well-rested leader… do you want my tent alone, or …” he trailed off, his bashfulness returning.

“No!” tav exclaimed. “I’m not taking your tent from you! We can share it, if you’re okay with that?” She hurries along in an attempt to be thoughtful and nonchalant at the same time, “whatever you want. Sleeping on opposite sides, together … I’m fine with either. Well, by together I mean … you know what I mean,” she shook her head as she tried to explain herself.

Then she remembered their little joke and smirked, “no undue *excitement* is what I mean.”

Gale returned her smirk with a laugh, “Right, always looking out for me. It’s lady’s choice though, and i’m happy with either as well. But I will say, I know you run warm. I also know that I can use a frost enchantment to keep you cool so long as we’re touching.” This was his masterful attempt at sweetening the deal without pressuring her by saying how much he longed to hold her in his arms … and damn him if it wasn’t going to work.

“Gods, you’ve really been holding out on me, haven’t you?” Tav admonished. “I’ll just, get some of my stuff, and then I’ll join you. I’ll bring my blanket so I hopefully won’t steal yours, but I make no promises.”

He smiled as he met her serious gaze at the threat of stealing his blanket. “Two is always better. I’ll see you when you’re ready,” Gale said softly, watching her head back to her tent. He silently thanked her for wanting another blanket, giving him a moment alone to bask in the excitement of a night with her. And calm down this excitement before she returns so he doesn’t scare her off.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #bg3 gale #galemancer #tav x gale #gale fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic writers

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firsttimewriter92 · 2 years ago

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Sweet boy König angst to fluff, I would love him to be protective with reader who got knocked out and him at the hospital 😭🥹

Hey sweet anon :) Based on your ask and popular demand here is a very angsty fic about you being injured and König losing his damn mind. I may or may not went a little overboard ;) So, prepare for all the angst/hurt/comfort you can handle :P It´s SFW.

Your code name is Queeny

König x f!reader

Summary: You get seriously injured and König is losing his mind. He wasn´t able to tell you yet! Would he ever get the chance to now?

Word count: 3.294

Warnings: Hurt, angst, hurt/comfort, injuries, blood, medical talk, devestated König but all the fluff in the end

“Somebody help!!!!” His panicked yells were muffled by the rushing in your ears, by the steadily slower beating of your heart, by the roaring of fire and breaking rubble all around you. It was chaos. What´d happened? One moment you were with your team, scouting for vantage points above the main battle area and the next, Boom!! Heat had encased your body as it fell. Pressure from falling concrete and steel on your chest and legs almost burying you. Why? Why was there an explosion? The enemy didn’t even make it to the area where you wanted to ambush them yet.

“Ghost! Soap! Help me!!” That voice…That booming voice. König. He never sounded like that…desperate, devastated. Your sight was blurry when you tried to open your eyes. They were so heavy. Not even adrenalin helping you stay awake. This was bad. Very bad. König…you heard hurrying footsteps and yells before some of the pressure was lifted from your legs. They felt cold and wet. Must be blood your foggy brain mused.

“No, no, no, no, no, Queeny! Eyes open, keep them open, Liebling, please!! Lt, that one! The one on her chest. I can pull her out!”

“König, calm down, we don’t know how injured she is. We can´t just lift the damn thing” you heard your Lt shout. “We have to! I´m not leaving without her!” Your heart tried to swell at König´s words. He was a sweetheart if you got to know him. Scary as all hell on the battlefield but couldn’t hurt a fly when not on duty. Your eyes tried to focus on him. His sniper hood was right above you. The whites of his eyes so clearly visible you knew how wide open they must be. His pale blueish green irises held a look of pure devastation as he gazed down at you. Strong hands held your neck in place as piece after piece of rubble was carefully removed from your lower body. The pressure and weight on your chest and abdomen however held it´s deathly grip on you.

You knew you were bleeding out from somewhere. Your hands were cold, you heart didn’t beat as quickly as it should. Your own medical experience kicked in and you knew your chances were slim if evac didn’t arrive in the next two minutes.

“-loosing too much blood. Evac, this is Ghost. How copy?” We´re out three minutes, Lieutenant. How´s the situation? “Critical!! Hurry your arses up!” You heard a gurgling sound from König´s throat above you and wished more than anything to be able to give him just one more book recommendation, to make one more cup of tea with him in the middle of the night, one more time be able to see his face. You couldn’t even touch him. His hands on the side of your neck began to shake.

“Lt” he said in a chocked up voice. “Ghost…we need to get her out from under there! When evac arrives we need to leave within the minute.”

“He´s right, Lt. We have to try” Soap on your other side sounded worried beyond measure. A deep sigh came from your superior. “Fuckin´ hell!” he hissed. “Right, Soap. Hand me that rod, I´m goin´ to use it as a lever. Help König pull her out as soon as there´s room, got it? If we don´t try she dies anyways.” You almost chuckled at the bluntness of your Lt. He was a character, for sure, but you´d lay your life in his hands without hesitation. You´d already done so multiple times. Just like today.

Faintly you heard a helicopter landing in front of the destroyed building you were in. Slowly the pressure on your chest vanished bit by bit and by the time you felt two sets of hands pull you from the rubble, you made some throaty noises of relief. That was before the pain shot through your torso, down the length of your spine and into your legs.

A scream erupted from your throat you didn’t know you still had the strength for. Your ribs felt like they had been pulverized, your skin bruised and ripped, your muscles crushed, your bones broken.

Before you saw the evac team run in your direction the only thing you could hear was König´s raw, pleading voice. “Queeny, hold on. I know, Liebling. I know, I know it hurts. You´re going to be fine, mein Schatz. Bitte…” Your heart was screaming for him, wanting to let him know what you felt. What you had hidden away since the first time you saw him. What he truly meant to you. But your vision blurred. Blackness slowly creeping up on you as babbled, quiet pleas left his trembling lips. “Bitte…not her, please. ___, stay awake. Bleib bei mir, bitte! (Stay with me, please)”

The last thing you felt was his clammy hands leaving your body as Ghost and Soap both were needed to pull him away from you so the evac team could start their work. By the time you had lost consciousness, König was on his knees, bending over and screaming his devastation and helplessness into the concrete on which he had collapsed on. Both his arms now loosely hanging from Ghost´s and Soap´s grip standing next to him. Both men watching with empathy how their teammate broke and evac hurried you away before pulling König to his feet. “Get up, König. Come on, man! Start walking. She needs you” Soap said sternly as he pulled on König´s limp arm. He seemed to snap out of it and got up, forcing his long limbs to move and scramble after you.

Back in the helicopter the medics did everything they could to stabilize you. Throwing medical terms at each other and trying to stop your various injuries from bleeding. “She´s losing too much blood. Get me a transfusion. What´s her blood type?” One of the medics reached for your dog tags and inspected them. “O-negative” he said. “Fuck” another one said and reached for the transfusion bags. “We only have one bag left, that´s not going to be enough to get her to the hospital.”

König´s insides froze and nausea filled his stomach. Before he could dissolve into despair yet again though, Ghost caught his attention and patted his chest where his dog tags lay, pointing at König after doing so. Quickly, the Austrians gears kicked into motion and he spoke up.

“I ´m O-negative. Use my blood!” The medic´s head whipped around and he contemplated for only a second. “No other choice. Let me see your tags.” König kneeled down next to him and pulled at the chain around his neck. “O-negative, got it! When was your last check up?” König didn’t hesitate. “Right before this mission. Two weeks ago. Came back clean.” The medic seemed relieved and nodded. “Henderson, prepare a direct transfusion. Hurry.”

They managed to keep your heart beating until the heli landed on top of the nearest military hospital. You were ushered to the ER so quickly, König still had the needle stuck in his arm as he jumped out after you. Ghost and Soap had to hold him back yet again.

Hours later, König still sat in the waiting room in front of the doors of the ER. Hunched over and feeling so lost his whole body was minutes away from giving out on him. Ghost and Soap had been called back to base for a briefing with Captain Price. He was the one that ordered König to stay at the hospital and inform them regularly about your condition. The thing was, nobody bloody told him anything!

You´d been in the operating room for nearly six hours now and no nurse or doctor would give him any information. He was slowly going mad. He´d managed to overthink every single second of that morning when they first arrived on site. Were there signs of the explosive? Could he have seen it? How did they know they were going to be there? Why wasn´t it him on that operating table right now? Why? Why? Frustration consumed him at this point and angrily he pulled at his sniper hood, revealing his slightly too long auburn hair and smudged face. He couldn’t care less at this point.

His cold hands were still shaking by the time the doors opened again several hours later. 10 hours, 42 minutes to be exact. A very exhausted surgeon steered his way over to König. His hood fell from his hands to the ground in slow motion as he got up from the uncomfortable chair.

The surgeons eyes were rimmed with dark circles and he sighed deeply, ruffling his hair. “No” König whispered and tears sprung to his eyes immediately. “Nein, bitte nicht. Bitte nicht. (No, please no. Please no.)” His own hands grabbed the strands on his head. The hair you loved to ruffle, the hair that reminded you of the setting sun, you´d once said. “We managed to close the most dangerous wounds and stopped the inner bleeding. Patched up her broken leg. Her foot…her foot was difficult to repair. She´s going to need extensive physical therapy… if she wakes up. I´m sorry, we had to induce a coma. She´d lost so much blood that we fear her brain might have been without enough oxygen for too long. Only time and her own strength will tell now.”

“But…she´s alive?” König asked with a shaking voice. The surgeon nodded. “Yes, she´s alive. Breathing on her own as well. It´s a waiting game now.”

_____________________________________________________

And König waited. Waited days, weeks, months. Every free minute he could spare he spent at your side. Slowly watching your body heal and yet, the coma remained. He brought you flowers, read you stories and talked to you as much as he could. Somedays he just sat by your side and quietly let the tears fall. He missed you. He missed you with an intensity he never knew. His chest constricted every time he was sent on another mission and knew it would be several days until he saw you again. He missed your voice. Your funny little quips and encouraging words whenever his nervousness took hold of him again. You always had a way of calming him down.

It didn’t take him long to appreciate your beauty as well. How could he not? He was just a man. When you weren´t deployed, you spent your time together on base with training, reading, watching movies and drinking tea. He knew he had developed feelings for you when he noticed he couldn´t really spar with you anymore like he used to. He´d be more careful not to come at you too forcefully (a fact about which you had nearly ripped him a new one) and when he´d overwhelmed you yet again, pinning your frustratedly huffing body to the training mat, he´d realized with a stuttering pulse how warm your body was. How pliant and soft your flesh was, how your chest was heaving. He really tried to not make it a problem. Feelings in your line of work weren´t exactly a good idea. Teamwork and all that, sure. Could safe your ass. But romantic feelings were a problem.

To his despair he didn’t even have the time to tell you about his feelings. About how much they´d grown, how much you meant to him. He just wanted more time. If it meant he couldn’t work for the military anymore…he´d find something else. Maybe in the private sector…if it meant he could be with you. If it meant he had more time. But once again being caught in a dream world he was transported back into that hospital room. Quietly sobbing and dwarfing your hand in his while he watched your still sleeping form.

“They´re going to try and wake you up tomorrow, Liebling” he said with a tight voice, trying to smile. “They did some tests and your brain reactions seem to have stabilized.” König rubbed his thumb over your hand. He stood up, leaning over you. With careful fingers he stroked the side of your face lovingly. “You´re fighting so well, Queeny. You´re truly a warrior. So much more than any of us” his voice cracked at the end. He leaned down and pressed his tear streaked lips to your forehead, whispering against it. “Bitte, Queeny. Bitte komm zurück und sag´ mir jeden Tag, dass meine Haare zu lang werden. (Please, Queeny. Please come back and tell me every day that my hair is getting too long) I´ll do anything to hear your voice again.”

__________________________________________________________

The next day, König sat in the waiting room again, this time surrounded by Soap, Ghost and Price. None of them wanted to miss this. The doctors had given you the right medication to wake you up and now, everyone waited in various stages of nervousness. Ghost leaned against the wall stoically, his arms crossed over his massive chest. Price was reading some report to distract him, murmuring something under his breath and Soap sat a few chairs away from König, gnawing on his thumbnail. König however was a mess. At some point either Price´s, Ghost´s or Soap´s gaze were on him just to make sure he wouldn’t topple over.

His face was even paler than it usually was. His eyes red rimmed and deep dark purple shadows beneath them. No wonder, the man hadn’t slept properly in months. Price turned his head to him. The Captain was not at all unaware of what was going on with the younger soldier. Heavens he knew how difficult it was to maintain any kind of relationships within the military. And yes, his own marriage had made him more receptive to how König felt and how he could help him instead of telling him off. He couldn’t imagine having to deal with his wife being in a coma. He´d go insane. So he just reached out and patted König roughly on the shoulder. He didn’t much react except for a little hiccupping sound. Cold sweat was running down his neck while his hand shook like leaves.

After what felt like hours, one of the nurses came into the waiting area and König swallowed loudly, staring her down. She did seem a little nervous when she saw the intense stare with which he pinned her to the spot. “She´s asking for you, sir” she squeaked and nodded towards him. “That is, if you´re König?” A short breath escaped him quickly. “It worked?” he whispered disbelievingly. “She´s fine?” The nurse smiled and beckoned him to follow her. On shaky legs he tried to put one foot in front of the other.

Inside your room, several doctors made sure your reflexes were normal and your breathing stable. You felt so groggy. Your memory only coming back in little pieces. An explosion, rubble, smoke, pain.

“König” you whispered for the sixth time since you woke up. “He´ll be here shortly. Focus on breathing” the doctor said in a calm voice. “Your vitals look very good,___. You´ll need a lot of rest but you pulled through.”

You nodded your head. You´re alive. Alive. Able to speak, to move, if very sluggishly. König.

The door opened and there he was. His huge frame coming through the door, ducking slightly when he stepped through the doorframe. He looked horrible and your heart squeezed for your love. You held out your hand to him. “Stand up straight” you croaked with a dry throat and smiled. You only saw a whirl of auburn, pale skin and black clothing before he was leaning over you holding your face in between his shaking hands. “Queeny” he breathed. “You came back, mein Schatz.” His tears fell down the tip of his nose. You lay a hand on his and smiled up at him. “Don´t cry, König. I´m here. I´m here, my love.” A strangled sob escaped him as he carefully sat down next to you on the bed and buried his face in your neck. The doctors and nurses had all left at this point. You tried to calm him down as best you could. Humming melodies and stroking his hair soothingly.

Minutes later his tears vanished and he sat up again, looking at you a little embarrassed. You just grinned a little and stroked his face. “Missed you” you said. He took a deep breath and nodded. “Me too, Liebling. Missed you so much. I´m so happy you´re back. I was so worried” König´s eyes were trained on your face. Your heart swelled. “I´m sorry, mein Großer (my big boy). I´m sorry I worried you. I should´ve-“ “No” he said resolutely and leaned his forehead against yours, breathing you in. “You fought for months, Queeny. You fought your way back! What happened was not your fault.” Your own eyes stung with tears. “It was nobodies fault” you said. “König, I was so scared. I was so scared I wouldn’t get to tell you.” He lifted his head again looking at you wondrously. He nodded in understanding. The way you looked at him had no other outcome than you having the same feelings. He swallowed. “Tell me now” he whispered in a hopeful voice.

“I love you” you said with all the truth in your heart. He looked like a massive boulder had been removed from his chest and he was breathing for the first time. Touching every single inch of skin on your face with shaking fingertips he nodded and again tears fell down his cheeks. When you wiped them away he said “Me too. I love you so much, mein Engel.”

With that you pulled him down by his neck and kissed him happily. He responded in kind immediately, a little groan escaping his mouth. His soft lips on yours, you felt like the whole world could just bugger off. This was all you needed. All you wanted. This gentle giant kissing you so lovingly and with such care it almost felt like not enough. “König” you whispered against his lips. “König, I´m not made of sugar. Fuckin´ kiss me.”

With your permission he grabbed the back of your neck and pressed his lips so desperately onto yours, you finally felt alive. He opened his mouth slightly and not hesitating you pushed your tongue against bis lower lip. König whined as he tangled his tongue with yours, really kissing you with earnest and all the relieve he felt. “I love you” he said between kisses. “Queeny, ich liebe dich. (I love you) I want to be with you no matter what it takes. I´m yours.”

Your arms wound themselves around his torso as a tear ran down the side of your face.

A throat cleared itself from the doorway and reluctantly König detached from you. He threw a nasty look over his shoulder but pulled up his shoulders when he saw his Captain and Teammates were standing at the foot of your bed. They too wore very relieved expressions.

“Glad you´re alright,___” your Captain said with his signature smile. You laughed lightly and sent a watery smile and many thank you´s towards your Team. All the while König was still holding you, looking at you adoringly. “You´ll need extensive physical therapy, the doc said” Price continued. You nodded your head. Price saw the change in you. He wasn’t exactly thrilled at what was coming but he understood completely. He warned Soap and Ghost beforehand. “With all due respect, Captain. Ghost, Soap….” You took König´s hand in yours and looked up at him smiling brightly. He had a confused expression on his face but grinned none the less, showing his canines. You turned back to your Team, smiling happily and shrugging a little bit.

“I quit.”

_______________________________________________________

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed :)

I would be very happy if you´d react to this post. Likes, Comments and reblogs are always appreciated and loved. Thank you so much <3

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wordsonamission · 1 year ago

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47 for icemav?

Thanks so much for sending a number! I hope you like this one, it was tough to write. I haven't done sad in a while . . .

#47: I would give up anything to see you again

Maverick cleared his throat roughly. “So, the mission was a success. Site destroyed, everyone back on the ship, three enemy fifth gen fighters shot down.” He dropped his gaze, rocking back and forth on his heels. “There were some . . . complications. Bradley ran out of flares on the way back. I covered him with the cobra maneuver. I know, I know,” a small and rueful smile split his face, “that’s too dangerous. And it was. I took out the missile locked on him but another one got me.”

The silence following his words was deafening. “I had to. You know I had to. Bradley needed me and I –” Maverick’s voice broke. “There was no way he was going down when I was still in the air. He was my wingman. And I don’t leave my wingman behind.” Maverick scrubbed a tear off of his cheek, a muscle clenching in his jaw.

“Landing was hell. Hit my head funny and blacked out for a minute. I got lucky and landed near the enemy base. There was a helicopter out to find my landing site. That would have been the end of me,” Maverick chuckled darkly, “but Bradley wouldn’t go back to the carrier. He defied direct orders from command and circled back. Shot the helicopter clean out of the sky. His first air combat kill.”

Maverick glanced up at the sky. His stomach twisted as he registered the familiar blue/grey color. “He was shot down right after that. So that’s two F-18s lost, the other two with frames bent all to hell from the climb out. Do you think Cyclone will deduct that from my paycheck?” He tried to laugh but didn’t quite manage. “I saw his chute, so I ran to him. Bradley was fine, just a little banged up, nothing major. We infiltrated the base and they had a Tomcat gassed up and ready to go. Just like old times.” The ancient creases around his eyes deepened as a genuine smile bloomed.

“Somehow we got it in the air. Everything in the back was gone, so we were flying blind, and I took out the landing gear on takeoff from the taxiway because the runway was bombed. There was a roving patrol we had to deal with, too.” This time Maverick’s laugh succeeded and warmth lit up his face. “God, it felt good. Nothing I’ve ever flown has ever felt like a Tomcat in a dogfight.”

Maverick was lost in thought for a long minute. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and closed his eyes, steeling himself, as deep grief settled on his face. “I finally talked to Bradley. About the Academy, and Carole, and everything else. He was angry, of course, but not in the same way as before. I think we’re finally getting somewhere. Maybe . . . maybe this is the start of something new. He’s grown so much since then, and I wish I – but maybe there’s a place for me in his life going forward now. And that’ll be enough.”

He wiped his face again, needing several deep breaths before he could talk again. “I didn’t think I was coming back. As soon as Cyclone made me team leader, I knew that was my fate. On the carrier, going through pre-flight, choosing the team, I knew it was the end. It was finally my time. But now,” Maverick blinked fast to clear his eyes, “now I’m not so sure. Somehow, I’m still here. I would give up anything to see you again, but you were right. I hate how you’re always right.”

A sob burst out of Maverick’s mouth. He bit at his fist to fight back the sound, but his shoulders shook with the force of his tears. “You should be here. Why was I the one to come back, why am I still alive?” There was no answer in the light breeze that stirred his hair, as soft as a lover’s touch.

“I gotta go. Bradley’s having me over tonight. We have a lot of catching up to do.” With trembling hands, Maverick leaned down and touched the smooth white stone. He laid a challenge coin on top. “Bates gave me this. He figured you already had several of these old Tomcat coins, but what’s one more for the collection?” Maverick snorted wetly and then sighed. “I love you, Ice. And I’ll be seeing you, though I guess not as soon as I thought.”

#wordsonamission writes #top gun: maverick #top gun fic #pete maverick mitchell

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vital-spirit · 6 months ago

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OFFSCREEN POST

The Coming Storm: Part One

The sun was setting on the horizon as Lucario and Bingo trudged on through the desert, the Lillipup falling slightly behind as she gazed out toward the orange and purple hues of the evening sky. No one was out here with the two Pokemon, the only figures for miles being that of looming cacti, mounds of rock and sand, and the animals that call this environment home.

All was quiet, or, it would be if it were not for Lucario who was not even remotely over what had happened at the bridge the day prior.

“I don’t get it! She coulda destroyed the bridge, or forced us to turn around? Why didn’t she? Are you sure she just… sang songs with you and talked about heroes?” He asked, still confused over everything that had happened on the way out of Lost.

“Mister Lucario,” Bingo spoke, not looking towards him but instead keeping her eyes on the setting sun, “I may have amnesia but my memory ain’t that shit. We just had a talk, nothin’ more than that.” The Lillipup stayed silent for a moment before adding, “And what reason would she even have for harmin’ us in any way?”

Lucario looked at her. “She’s an omen of death. There are countless stories of her pickin’ up Pokemon like us and carrying them off, never to be seen again.” Somewhere in the distance, lightning strikes.

Bingo turned her gaze toward the flash of light. Was it going to rain? The younger Pokemon shook her head for a moment before responding to Lucario, “Then why didn’t she? All we did was talk and sang songs, she even at multiple points made sure I didn’t stop or turn around.”

“I don’t know! I’m tryin’a figure that out!” He says, agitated. “She’s probably planning somethin’. Trying to get our guard down.”

The beating of winds sounds from above.

“To be honest, I don’t think we’ll be able to figure that out–” Bingo froze, her ears on high alert as a deep dread worms its way into her stomach. Something was here. “Mister Lucario, what’s that sou–”

The Mandibuzz in question bursts through the clouds, flying down towards the two of them with a surprising amount of speed. With talons extended, she reaches out for Bingo, dwarfing the tiny canine due to her large size compared to a normal Mandibuzz. “Shit-” Lucario scrambles to pull out his gun, but it’s too late. As soon as Cyclone reaches Bingo, talons mere inches away from the Lillipup, a cloud of black fog bursts out from the Mandibuzz, obscuring all vision. When it finally clears after an agonizing long moment, Bingo is gone. All that remains is Cyclone. “Cyclone…” Lucario says carefully, frantically seeing if he can sense Bingo’s aura somewhere to no avail, “What did ya do?” Cyclone shifts her wings, but doesn’t otherwise respond. She just stands there, looming over him. The canine grows impatient, growling. “What. Did. You. Do?” he snarls, pointing the gun at her. He knows it won’t do much to her. She’s an omen of death, and he’s pointed guns at her enough times for her to expect this. Cyclone doesn’t physically react. She may not appear to have eyes, but she can see what he’s doing perfectly. She just doesn’t care. “I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago, Lucario. And what-” Lucario doesn’t wait for Cyclone to finish talking, firing a shot of steel typed energy at her. The giant Mandibuzz flinches back from the hit, but seems wholly unharmed as electricity briefly crackles around where she was hit. Cyclone leans forward, tilting her head inquisitively as she takes a massive stride towards Lucario. He scrambles backwards in response, clearly realizing that was a bad idea. Normally she just flew off when he shot at her. “Do you hear that, John?” Cyclone says, using his name. She shouldn’t know that, and yet she does. Of course she does. How can you hide anything from death? “That is the sound of destiny. A slow crawl towards what I should have brought to pass long before any of this. Your game will continue, I cannot fill the score card early, but fools who play mastermind are puppets to a more grand design. Even a pawn can become a queen, and in this game the opposite is true as well. Crossing the first threshold. Tests, allies, and enemies. Approach to the inmost cave. Is that what we’re not doing here?” Cyclone unfolds her wings, holding them out making herself look even larger as she continues to walk towards Lucario, and to his credit, he stops backing up and stands his ground, staring up at her, even as she leans down to stand face to face. “In a line of heroes big and small, you are just a sad little man, John. Nothing more than the villain of the week. There is more to your existence, there always is, but will you listen when called for? Or will you let angels fall deeper into the flames? Let your past burn away to ash? There is much waiting for you both. I promise.” Cyclone steps back, flapping her powerful wings to get off the ground and hovering a few feet up. “Nothing to say? No response? Good. Let the past sins cling to you like mud. You can have her back. I have done what I came to do.” And with that, she dives at Lucario. He manages to bring his arms up to brace himself, but an impact never comes. When he opens his eyes, the same black fog from earlier obscures his vision, but within it he senses Bingo’s aura. Sort of. Something’s wrong. He realizes. It’s her aura, but it’s different. Cyclone’s done something. He carefully moves towards her as the fog lifts, and once he can see again, he realizes what’s wrong. Bingo lays motionless on the ground.

Part One: Scene End.

#pkmn irl #pokeblog rp #rotomblr #the story thus far #pmd irl #desert whispers #offscreen post #the middle of nowhere

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respondedinkind · 1 year ago

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@paramounticebound gets a random starter from me because reasons!

Something must have gone wrong somewhere along the lines.

Ka'anh had managed to reach the hangar - managed to fight his way through dozens of his own kind, sent after him to catch the fugitive and make him suffer for the consequences of not being enough - and even reached one of the many shuttles; How his body still carried his weight at that point he didn't dare to question.

Perhaps he'd just been blessed with an impossible large amount of luck, allowing him to close the doors and start the shuttle before the military was able to catch up with him - he doesn't believe in luck, and yet there's no other reason that explains how he even got out, away into the universe, the darkness of space.

But where luck brought him away from his planet, misfortune decided to intervene, it seemed. The last thing he remembers are the blinking lights of his vessel, alarms blaring from left and right, his shuttle getting shaken and pulled on by forces he'd never experienced before.

A bright light, and then...

A grunt escapes him, followed by a moan that comes from somewhere deep within his core; Pain shoots through him like a bullet, from head to toe and back up, and he squeezes his eyes shut as the taste of sand infiltrates his mouth.

Ka'anh's here, all of a sudden. Somewhere else, somewhere he hasn't been before, stumbling away from his crashed shuttle into the nothingness of what seems to be a vast desert ahead. The wind is merciless, but at least it's breathable; His body burns from the scorching heat, his heart racing due to blood loss and the injuries he's sustained both from his previous escape and the crash on this foreign planet.

A mixture of sweat and blood drips along the curve of his forehead, into his eyes - he blinks it away, spits crimson into the orange sand and continues to move forward... one step at a time. One, one, one, one...

He's alone, he guesses, lost somewhere where there's only the horizon visible at the edge of the world. But then he spots something else... something that looks equally as destroyed as his own vessel, most likely crashed in a similar fashion he has hours ago.

There's a body lying in the sand, on its stomach, close to the mountain of ripped steel. Ka'anh is armed, thank god he thinks, and pulls his bio-coded gun as he steps closer. One step at a time...

The image in front of his eyes turns triple from the pain and he grunts, but keeps standing. His nostrils burn, his body close to giving up, but he has to... he has to---

The gun is pointed at the foreign body, the head that's turned away from him. Raven hair is all he sees, no features, nothing that can tell him whether the other individual is even alive. How did this person end up here, he wonders - and why did their ship went down so close to my own...?

"---Tra!" (Hey), Ka'anh shouts after a while - the harsh wind swallows his voice, so he clears his throat, coughs and spits before repeating himself: "Tra, eiqe!" (Hey! You!)

He wonders if the other is alive - whoever that person is. Appears to be male, that's all he can tell, judged by the shape of the body, but... there's not much else he can work with - not unless he steps closer. He won't, not yet.

#paramounticebound #Verse;closed -> To be named (Main)#(*cracks knuckles*)#(so I chose to write what he means behind each sentence crossed out lol I hope that's ok?)#(I could without but it feels odd to not at least have *us* understand sdfsdfsdfs.)#(Am I using a fantasy language generator? Yes. I am too old to invent a new language lol)#(ALSO - i know this is extremely long please don't feel the need to match the length if its too much!)#(I just had...so much to say... again... sighs...)#(I imagine his language to sound quite guttural but maybe also a bit close to old nordic stuff? Something like that)#(The language generator might not make it justice but ANYWAYS...)

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sezja · 9 months ago

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Febuwhump Day 8: "Why Won't it Stop?" Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Ship: Original Characters (Nerise Feuillelains & Eyrisunn Hyrtfyrsinn), background WoL/Urianger Triggers/Content warnings: n/a

Nerise coughs. Gleaming whiteness spatters the gilded flooring - aether, pure aether, seething with Light.

She curls in on herself, clawing at her stomach, her chest; she's changing, Eyri knows it - she's becoming a Lightwarden, just as Emet-Selch said.

They tricked us, he thinks, wildly, all his rational thought shattered; the Exarch had lied to them, keeping secrets about how dangerous this was. The godsdamned Ascian had lied to them, pretending to an alliance he had no intention of honoring. And Urianger-

Urianger had lied to them, lied to him, and that-

That will have to wait for later.

He runs to her, runs to Nerise, runs headlong into the danger. Didn't he promise he'd always guard her back? Didn't he promise he wouldn't let her get herself into trouble? One of the first things he'd promised her; her and her weird lizard. What is he going to tell Sohl Amh? He'd better pray there's no way back to the Source after this, or he'll find himself eaten by a heartbroken wyvern.

"Nerise," he says, gathering her convulsing body in his arms as if he might be able to hold her together by main force. "Nerise, fight it, lass; you've held it back this long-"

"Go-" The word emerges as a groan, cut off by a horrible, guttural scream. She gasps, clutching at his chest. Flecks of gleaming white aether on her lips; on his shirt when she coughs again, deep and retching. "Eyri - get out-"

Gods, why won't it stop? The Light keeps spilling out of her, bright and evil.

There's a light that shouldn't be there in the depths of her violet eyes, like a torch behind glass - glass that's threatening to shatter. The Light, clawing its way free, eager to shape her into an unrecognizable monstrosity, fed on the aether of every Lightwarden in Norvrandt. The sky roils overhead, the Light eager to greet a new master, now that Vauthry is vanquished. He thinks of every Lightwarden they've destroyed, every sin eater they've slain - once living creatures, all.

Once people, perhaps.

The others reach them at last, and Nerise's distress grows louder. She does not want them here; does not want them nearby when she-

When she-

"Ryne," Y'shtola says, uncharacteristically gentle. "Can you do anything for her?"

"I..." The girl's jaw sets, determined. That new steel in her spine is showing. "I will try."

Eyrisunn holds his breath, cradling Nerise like a child. A look of intense concentration crosses Ryne's young face as she extends her hands toward their agonized Warrior of Darkness. A hush settles over the Scions, broken only by the distant screeching of sin eaters left without a master. What the people at the foot of Mount Gulg must be thinking, watching the Light reclaim the sky, Eyri can't even imagine.

With small, hiccuping gasps, Nerise begins to relax.

She falls limp against him, quiet and still... but breathing.

Ryne lowers her hands, panting with the effort. "It... it won't stay contained forever-"

"Never mind." Thancred rests a gentle hand atop her head. "Well done, Ryne. For now, we need to get her somewhere safe."

"The Crystarium," Y'shtola says at once. "They will need to be told what has become of the Exarch, and the Crystarium has resources that may..." She trails off, looking at Nerise's still form.

Resources that may give us hope. Any hope. Anything at all.

Eyri nods, rising with Nerise still in his arms. "What will we tell everyone?"

"We'll think of something." Thancred stands. "It's a long way down the mountain. We'll have time to think." The others all set off, preparing to cut a path for Eyri and Nerise, if needed.

Urianger lingers. He's remained unusually silent through it all, his face ashen.

Eyri eyes him. "We'll talk," he says, as calmly as he can manage, in light of the circumstances. "When she's safe."

The man he thought he'd loved nods, not meeting his gaze.

#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday8 #my writing #nerise the dragonrider #eyrisunn hyrtfyrsynn #nerise and eyri's relationship is so important to me and i don't talk about it enough #eyri is NOT PLEASED with urianger for keeping secrets #(eyri honey you fell in love with Keeping Secrets McElf i don't know what you expected)

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ainyan · 2 years ago

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Interlude

He scented it first - garlic and onions, carrots and potatoes, a deep note of rich red meat and the tang of salt. Somewhere nearby, someone was cooking. Eyes narrowing, he reached back and gripped the hilt of his gunblade, easing through the bushes and trees surrounding a camp he’d thought well-hidden. In silence, he slid out into the tiny clearing where his tent was pitched, pausing in the shadows to survey the area.

There was no one in sight, but a small cauldron hung on a spit above the merrily burning campfire, and within bubbled a thick, hearty stew of the kind he’d not had since his last visit to Sharlayan. It was not, then, Urianger come at last; the astrologian regularly burnt water - none would trust him with even heating a pre-made stew. However, other than the addition of dinner, the camp looked much as he’d left it - neat and tidy and ready to be packed up at a moment’s notice.

Abruptly the flap to his tent rustled and he bared another inch of steel, muscles tensing as he leaned forward, preparing to leap upon the intruder. A small, beringed hand thrust back the flap of his tent and the figure who emerged was not one most would expect to see in this desolate, snow-coated forest - clad in thin purple silks and shimmering gold, she was a vision to grace the arid sands of Ul’dah or the steamy jungles of Thavnair, not the frozen wastelands of Garlemald.

“How do you do it?” he wondered, slamming his blade back home and stepping out into the clearing as she gave a squeak of surprise, her chakrams fairly jumping into her hands as she fell immediately into a warding stance. “How do you stand here in below-freezing temperatures wearing less than I do under my armor and not immediately freeze to death?”

She stared at him with wide lavender-edged eyes, then exhaled heavily and slid her chakrams back on their catches. “Gods! Thancred! You startled me. I almost let fly. You’re early,” she complained, ignoring his question. “I thought to be out of here before you got back.”

Snow crunched beneath his boots. “Is my company so odious?”

Blinking, she stared at him, confused. “What? No, of course not. I just didn’t want to intrude on your…” She trailed off, rolling her hand in a vague gesture, “business. Skulking. Spying. Whatever.”

He looked amused as he stepped up to the cauldron and sniffed at it. “What do you call this, then?”

Unaccountably, a dull flush turned her cheeks from indigo to violet. “Oh, uhm. I…” She huffed out a breath. “I was flying overhead and I saw the camp. I landed to see whose it was. When I realized it was yours, I thought I’d… surprise you. With a meal,” she added in a mutter, turning her head away. “And some supplies, since I noticed you were low on a few things.”

“I’m also low on company, if you’d like to provide that for the space of a meal,” he invited, bemused by her embarrassment.

She peered at him from under the fall of her bangs. “Are you sure? I really didn’t come to intrude - I’ve been helping some of the adventurer groups to deal with what’s left in the Tower now that we’re certain we’ve cleared out the last of the blasphemies that Nerva created.” She sighed. “Still plenty too tempered to save, plus berserk machinery that must be destroyed.”

Thancred settled down on one of the logs he’d been using as seating and gestured for her to seat herself upon the other. “Please, Kali. I’ve found these days I’ve no liking to be alone - too much time spent with companions, I’m afraid, has soured me on the solitary experience.” As she sat down and folded her hands in her lap, he peered at her across the flames of the campfire. “The last I saw of you, you and some of the others were preparing to delve into some ancient ruin at the bottom of the ocean. Did you find that which you sought?”

Her eyes glinted with excitement. “Oh! You’ve not heard then! Yes, and it was not what we expected at all.”

As she began to lay out the adventures she and the others had been on in exacting - and exciting - detail, Thancred leaned back and listened, his eyes half-lidded as he concentrated on her words while watching her through his lashes. He did not interrupt, quashing the impulse several times throughout her tale, and as it wound down, he remained silent for heartbeats longer. Crossing his arms across his chest, he looked down, closed his eyes, and ruminated.

She gazed back at him across the fire in silence, waiting as he digested her story. Finally, he shook his head. “Were it any but you who told me this, I’d dismiss it as yet another fanciful story.” Unfolding his arms, he leaned forward, hands clasped before him. “How do you feel? Even a brief exposure to the void can have unexpected consequences for aether, as I’m certain Y’shtola warned you. For one whose aether is as incredibly dense as yours - well. I can only imagine it.”

She smiled at his concern. “Worry not, Thancred, I am perfectly fine. It is not my first contact with the Void by any means - indeed, if you will recall, I have been to the Thirteenth in person.”

He stared at her blankly for a moment, then made a soft noise. “Right. The Crystal Tower, when you went to the World of Darkness to break the pact and prevent the Void from invading the world.” He smiled as her lips rounded in surprise. “I do pay attention, my friend, I promise you. There is little about your adventures of which I am not aware, if only by second-hand accounts in some instances.”

Eyes narrowing, she leaned forward. “Thancred Waters, do you spy on me?”

Citrine eyes glittered at her. “What you call spying, I call keeping tabs on one of my dearest companions. You cannot blame me for wanting to keep abreast of your doings - so often do they turn out to be… significant.”

“Dangerous. Reckless. Foolhardy.” With every disgruntled word, Thancred’s smile grew and Kal'istae’s voice grew more annoyed. “I know what you think of my adventures.”

The smile slipped. “I have no issues with your adventures, my dear,” he replied softly. “When you choose your path, it is often exciting, but rarely is it dangerous enough to excite concern - or no more than the heart can handle, at least. It is when your path is chosen for you that I worry.”

Her expression softened. “I’ll thank you for that, for I understand how harrowing it is to watch those you care for go off to do battle with an enemy not of their own choosing.” His lips twitched as her words found their mark. “But now, my path is my own; though there be dangerous mysteries to pursue, to do so is my choice, and not imposed upon me by fate.” She paused. “At least, not any fate but my own.”

Thancred made a soft noise, then pushed himself up with a grunt, moving to stir the stew and check it. When Kal’istae would have risen to join him, he waved her down. “No, I can handle this much, at least. Perhaps you could scrounge around in the tent and see if I’ve anything decent to drink?”

Pushing herself up, she smiled at him. “If not, I might have something in my pack.”

He cast her an ironic look through the steam from the cauldron. “I’ve seen that bottomless pit you call a backpack,” he drawled, and she grinned merrily at him. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you had Lord Aymeric’s wine cellar in there.” Snickering, she ducked into the tent, leaving him to the gloaming and the softly bubbling stew. As he listened to her rummaging around inside, he stirred the pot and mused.

A few moments later she emerged, an unfamiliar bottle in her hand. “Ah, as I thought - maybe not Lord Aymeric’s, but a decent vintage all the same. I also have some tea if you prefer something less… alcoholic.”

He studied the bottle in her hand. “I admit, I have not touched much in the way of spirits in a few years - it didn’t seem right while on the run with Ryne, and after… let’s just say I was encouraged to remain sober.” When her expression fell slightly, he reached out a hand for the bottle. Startled, she passed it over. “It would be nice to share a drink with a dear friend, to know the world is safe enough I can afford to.”

Brightening, Kal’istae stepped up to the cauldron, sniffing at the stew. “Good. I hate drinking alone, and adventurers tend to overindulge, so I tend to be abstemious by contrast - someone has to be the designated hero.” Her grin was bright and teasing. “It will be nice to share a drink with someone I can trust not to take it too far.”

Thancred’s laughter rumbled deep in his chest. “There are those who know me who would be astonished to hear you say that.” He reached down to take up one of the wooden traveling bowls that he kept in the kit near the fire and handed one over to her, followed by a piece of heavy, filling travel bread from the sturdy box that held his own rations.

She took the bowl and weighed it in her hand, then held it out when he filled the ladle with stew and offered it to her. He filled her bowl as she watched. “I remember a few times,” she admitted. “That time with Moenbryda, for instance,” and for a moment her voice grew quiet, her expression troubled. “Sorry.”

He filled her bowl, then his own as she moved to sit back on her log. He hesitated briefly, then joined her rather than sitting across from her as before. She blinked up at him, startled, then gave him a sweet smile. “You have naught to apologize for, Kali. There is no shame in remembering the good times spent with friends. And, as embarrassing as that episode was - it was a good time.”

Folding her legs before her, she balanced her bowl on her knee, holding it steady with one hand while spooning up stew with the other. “There will be more to come,” she said softly. “We have ensured that for many - including us, by all the gods.”

He murmured his agreement, and then fell silent, focusing on his food. At his side, she did the same, eyes half-lidded as they supped on the hearty stew she’d made. There was nothing uncomfortable or awkward about the silence between them; it was companionable and, in many ways, comforting, wrapping them both in the warmth of shared friendship that always made a meal better, a night brighter, a fire warmer. As Thancred scraped the last of the stew from his bowl, he set it to the side and picked up the bottle of wine, turning it in his hands. “I don’t have any cups, do you?”

“Not that I know of,” Kali replied as she soaked up the last of the stew with the heel of her bread and popped it in her mouth, then leaned over to set her bowl atop his. “I can assure you I’m perfectly healthy, if you don’t mind sharing the bottle.”

He set his thumb against the cork and popped it expertly, catching it before it could fly away. “I don’t mind at all,” he replied easily. “If you had so much as a sniffle, Y’shtola’d not let you out of her sight.” At the Au Ra’s suffering sigh, he grinned. “The price of family, my dear.”

“I suppose so,” she replied dubiously, watching as he took the first swig, then taking the bottle as he passed it to her. She sniffed thoughtfully at the wine, then smiled and sipped, nodding her approval. “Hah. I remember where I got this, now. It was a reward from Shamani Lohmani at Wineport.” Crossing his feet at the ankle, Thancred settled back, watching her expectantly. Her eyes glittered over the bottle as she took a longer drink. “What, I provided dinner and now I’m the entertainment, as well?”

“You share, I’ll share,” the gunbreaker replied.

Kal’istae studied his face, skin gold in the firelight, citrine eyes merry beneath the fall of silvery bangs that could use a trim. “I own, this could be most interesting - not to mention enlightening.” At his sudden look of consternation, she laughed out loud. “Let me tell you about a goblin named Brayflox and how her little cheese operation caused a big problem in La Noscea…”

*****

A bottle of wine and several stories later, Kal’istae leaned into Thancred, giggling, and he gazed down at her in tipsy bemusement. “It wasn’t that funny,” he complained.

Drawing in a breath, she pushed away, her eyes sparkling at him. “To you, maybe, but for me, just picturing a skinny little you with his hand caught in some old Elezen scholar’s pouch. Imagine the look on your face…”

He sighed, then chuckled a little. “I was shocked. No one had ever caught me before; I’d never so much as been suspected, and here was this old man with glasses and a squint with his hand about my wrist, peering at me like I was some kind of intriguing puzzle.”

She gazed at the fire. “You are, you know.” When he made an inquisitive sound, she glanced sidelong at him. “An intriguing puzzle. A contradiction - but not an unpleasant one.” When he frowned at her, she shook her head abruptly. “Okay. Half a bottle of wine is clearly my limit. I should be going.”

“Must you?” The words slipped out before Thancred realized he would say them, but even if he could have taken them back, he wouldn’t. A light haze drifted through his mind; the wine, he knew, but more than that, the company - no, companionship. He didn’t want to lose this nebulous, nascent connection he could feel forming between them - even if he wasn’t sure just what it was.

She stared at the fire. “It’s probably for the best,” she murmured before placing her hand on his thigh and pushing herself up. He reached out to grip her arm and help her - and she stumbled over her own feet, shrieking with laughter as she fell into him. “Gods! Gods, over my limit, I guess. I’ll have to call Ehil Tou and have her do the flying. Let me just…”

She placed her hand on his shoulder, her bangs falling into her eye as she tried to right herself, silks slithering over her indigo skin, rasping lightly against her scales. He reached up to grip her elbows, staring up at her, and she turned her head, making the mistake of meeting his gaze across the scant ilms. The bottom dropped out of his stomach, and she looked similarly poleaxed. “Oh shit,” he murmured.

“This is a terrible idea,” she said to him even as her hands tightened on his shoulders and his upon her arms, drawing them inexorably together.

His hands slid up her arms as he gazed up into her stricken eyes. “Probably,” he agreed. “We’re going to make such a mess of things.”

Eyes fluttering closed as she felt his words warm on her lips, Kal’istae drew in a trembling breath. “Oh hells, it’s what I do best,” she muttered, and heard his sharp bark of laughter, quickly muffled as she lunged forward, her mouth closing firmly over his.

There was no struggle, no shock or startlement - indeed, he as good as met her halfway, his hands sliding free of her shoulders as his arms slid around her, gathering her tight in his embrace. His lips parted against hers, his tongue brushing lightly against her mouth before her own lips opened and she gave herself entirely to the kiss.

She tasted of a storm, that thin edge of lightning that rode the clouds and illuminated everything in its path in a glory of effervescent energy. She tasted of magic and aether, sharp and spicy, with a wicked tang that bit sharp and sudden, leaving him thirsting for more. She tasted of green growing things and the rich churned earth, heady and wholesome and filled to overflowing with life.

He tasted of leather and oil and the acrid tang of gunpowder, a burn against her tongue that seared its way down her throat and into the pit of her stomach. He tasted of steel, tart and sharp with an unexpectedly sweet edge that whetted her appetite and left her wanting more. He tasted of patience, of the sun-warmed earth and icy mountain tops, solid and steady and safe.

His hands streaked beneath her silks, fingers grasping and greedy against heated flesh. Her arms wrapped around his neck, banding like iron as she straddled him, pressing eagerly against him as the kiss continued on. Abruptly, she felt his arms slide down around her hips and his muscles flexed beneath her, then they were standing, and her legs locked about his waist as she broke the kiss with a startled exclamation.

She started to ask what he was doing - but the look in his eyes said everything. Every muscle in her body simultaneously tightened and turned to liquid and she swallowed as he turned towards the tent. “I…” He said nothing, merely looked at her, and she lost her train of thought, falling silent once more as he carried her out of the cold and into the warm interior.

She could feel the heat of the spell she’d cast to surprise him caressing her skin as he loosened his hold on her, letting her slither down his body until her feet landed on the ground, her arms still locked around his neck as his hands came to rest on her waist. She gazed up into his citrine eyes, and the hunger there made her belly clutch and tighten. “The choice is yours,” he said hoarsely. “If you say no, this ends here. But by the gods, Kali, please say yes.”

It was such a bad idea. Even if it was just one time - and gods, how she wished it could be more - there was always a chance that intimacy could sour a working relationship. And they would be working together for the rest of their lives. She should say no. She should walk out. She should…

His fingers tightened on her waist and she lost her train of thought. “Uhm,” she replied intelligently, and then he grinned. And she was lost. “Yes. Gods, Thancred, please.”

Laughing, he bore her down to the bedroll, his hands and hers tearing at laces and catches, nearly snapping buttons in their haste. “It is,” he said as his hands closed over her and she arched with a yelp, “my deepest pleasure to please you. Kal’istae,” he murmured urgently, and bent his head to hers.

With her last conscious thought, she gasped out a spell against eavesdropping, then let herself slide into the sexual haze threatening to consume her, surrendering to it, and to him.

*****

Y’shtola sat with Urianger in the main hall of the Annex, discussing the results of their sojourn beneath the Bounty. “I own, ‘tis interesting to observe two such individuals motivated by naught but a desire for adventure,” remarked the astrologian.

The miqo’te shook her head. “While I will not deny that Estinien’s motivations are so pure, do not be fooled by Kal’istae’s headlong rush into every available danger. She chases knowledge as readily as she chases excitement - indeed, I think she’s more eager for a reward of information or the answer to a mystery than she is for gil or riches.”

Urianger tilted his head back to study the ceiling. “Thou art not incorrect. I admit to some surprise that the Studium didst not attempt to recruit her to their ranks, especially once they had chance to see her in action.”

Y’shtola was silent for a long moment. “Scholarch Montichaigne has asked me when we expect her to return,” she admitted in a low voice. “I don’t think she has escaped their notice - only their reach by remaining on the move.” She frowned at the table, distracted. “Thancred returned to Garlemald, right?” she asked in an odd non-sequitur.

The elezen blinked at her. “Aye. He is scouting some of the distant settlements nearer the capital whilst I aid you and the Loporrits.” He frowned. “Is aught amiss?”

Shifting on her seat, she closed her eyes and muttered softly to herself. “No,” she finally responded after a long moment, exhaling. “No.”

Urianger continued to frown at her. “If something is wrong,” he pressed, “I urge thee to send word to Kal’istae at once. She, too, is in Garlemald; she fights alongside her fellow adventurers to quell the hordes left to ravage the capital in the wake of Nerva’s demise.”

The sorceress’s head shot up, her eyes wide. “Kal’istae is in Garlemald?”

Urianger drew back. “Aye,” he replied with uncharacteristic brusqueness.

She stared at him with diamond eyes, her expression a mixture of confusion and consternation. “Let us hope my imagination is running awry, then,” she replied, her voice troubled, but try as he might, Urianger could get no more from her.

*****

As he awoke to the dim glow of sunlight through the roof of the tent, Thancred knew he was alone. There was a stillness, a silence to the air that warned him that Kal’istae was long gone. Groaning, he rolled over and sat up, scrubbing his hand through his hair. Sitting on a small camp table next to his bedroll was a covered plate. When he yanked off the cloth, he found it filled with scrambled eggs, bacon, and a pair of travel biscuits with a small crock of honey. A folded piece of paper rested nearby. Reaching out, he plucked it up and unfolded it. “Thank you. Stay warm, and stay safe,” was written in an unfamiliar flowing script, dusted with a faint purple sparkle, and he smiled. Tucking the note away for safe keeping, he fell upon his breakfast and reflected on the evening before.

There was no arguing that it may have been a bad idea. He never fished in the sea of the Scions for a reason: intimacy, no matter how ephemeral, how fleeting, left marks upon the psyche. One could never forget the brush of skin on skin, the taste of a lover, the sensation of flesh in flesh. And should one wish more when the other does not; jealousy, spite, anger…

Discomfited, he left his breakfast half-eaten and rose, careless of his unclad state. The spell she’d woven still warmed the air; a part of him, the tiny part not distracted by a sense of impending calamity, hoped this gift was a permanent part of his tent now. Irritated, he swatted away the thought and brought his mind to bear on the dilemma at hand.

Would Kal’istae want more? He’d dealt with more than his fair share of jilted lovers - no matter how careful he was to make it clear he was only after a bit of fun, too many women sought to claim him - to change him. To save him from his wayward existence and teach him how desirable the bondage of a relationship was. And perhaps it was - with the right person. But even if such a person truly existed for him, he was certain he’d yet to meet her.

But she’d gone before he’d even roused. That argued for no attachment at all; a woman after his own heart, interested in only a bit of fun and games. So why was there this aching hole in his stomach? Why did he wish she’d stayed the balance of the night? That she had been there when he’d awoken? This was the most ideal way this situation could have fallen out - so why was he so discontented?

Gritting his teeth, he turned back and scooped up the plate, shoveling food into his mouth untasted. A side-effect of excellent sex, no doubt; he’d had more experienced lovers, and more inventive, but for sheer verve and joy, none had matched the Warrior in full fettle.

Yes. Surely that was it. A lingering regret for the lack of opportunity for a rematch.

That was all.

#ffxiv #ffxiv fanfiction #kal'istae miurani #thancred waters #y'shtola rhul #urianger augurelt #wol x thancred #wolcred

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ihadthisdreamwhereonetime · 2 years ago

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It’s fuzzy at the beginning. I was in my dorm doing work and I left for some reason. I think class was happening on the floor below me. Somewhere along the way, I feel a jolt and sinking feeling in my stomach. I fall to my knees. I wake up, and I can’t feel anything. But I see myself next to me. I look around, I can’t figure out what’s happening. The not me next to me sits up, and rubs their head, confused. I don’t know what’s happening and begin to panic, but no one can hear me or even seems to notice I’m there, except the not me. I look down and realize I’m not there. I don’t have a form, and I’m stuck. I try to move around and get away but the further I go the more pain I feel. It’s the only thing I can feel. The person inside my body looks at me. They do not have my eyes. They know what I am. They quickly run upstairs and into my dorm room before locking the door.

The other person explained that they accidentally performed a dangerous spell incorrectly and had been lost to the ether, their own body unprotected and soulless had been snatched away and destroyed, his own tether snapped. He didn’t remember much, but time slowly slipped from his senses, leaving a cold, blank void, with nothing and no way for him to perceive anything. I still had my earthly tether, which meant I could still utilize earthly senses without being in my body. He apologized, because he honestly didn’t realize what he was doing. There was but a small gap between my body and would and he had taken his chance. He acknowledged that only he would ever be able to see me, because he knew magic and was inhabiting my form. I asked him to return my body. He refused.

I tried to fight back, to pull myself back into my own form. Nothing worked. I tried to flee, my spectral legs pulling against whatever tether connected us, and the boy's steely eyes grew concerned when he saw how my form stretched and tightened, painfully trying to sever my own consciousness. He shouted at me to stop, that I would mutilate myself and kill my form, before waving his arm and trapping me within a small crystal. He had to keep me on his person, so my life force would continue to feed my body through the tether like an umbilical cord. His own soul could possibly have provided such energy, but why risk the magical surgery. He did feel bad for having stolen my form, but to perceive, to exist once more, it was too great a thrill to give up. He also wasn’t entirely sure he could.

Eventually, he let me out. We slowly became friends after he did attempt to leave, but was unable to. We were close, but having no body or way to interact was something I loathed him for. After many months of this, the boy asked if I wanted to try to get my body back. I was ecstatic, but cautious. I can’t let him possess anyone else. What was the catch? He told me that he had an idea for a spell that could allow us both to exist in my body, creating a kind of compromise. I disliked any “compromises” seeing as it was my physical form he had stolen, but I was willing to do anything for my own agency again. We set up the ritual and he cast the spell. I felt dizzy, and passed out.

When I woke up, I looked around. I was myself again! It was me. But something inside felt tight, and squished. I felt a small pop and my eyes rolled back in my head, only to wake up, and there was the boy. His soul tethered to my body. This was the first time I’d perceived him as he perceived himself. About my age, features fuzzy, but deep, steel grey eyes. I noticed the tether and freaked out, asking him what he thought he was doing. As I tried to move away, I felt my body slipping away like thick honey through fingers. My spectral form sliding in and out of my body, having difficulty controlling it. Somehow, with him lodging himself inside of me, he had begun to think of himself in my form, and had accidentally attached himself to me, leaving a body with two souls. This is why he couldn’t leave my form earlier. It was just as much his as it was mine now. He reached out with his own spectral arm, inserting it into part of me and stabilized my frantic, uncertain motions. I felt my body settle around me. It had been so long. But neither of us had full control of the body while the other was inside. I pushed him away, outside my home, my heart. Dejected, he did his best to give me space as I lived my life for the first time in months. He tried to talk to me, to reason or apologize, but I ignored him.

One day, he finally drove me to the brink, and threatened to sever both our ties to the body. With tears in his eyes he asked me to understand. I told him to explain then, to tell me what’s going on. I felt myself leave my body, easy to do. It became easier every time it’d happened, like popping a sticker off and on, the adhesive slowly just stops working. I hardly even noticed as we argued. I reached out, myself moving into his, and I was hit with thousands of memories and emotions, then pain like nothing else. Suddenly, nothing. Endless, infinite nothing. Barely conscious enough to think and only endless existence. Then, a crack. A small window of feeling. Stimulation, then suddenly, awakening! Life, sight, touch, different than before, of course, but something, anything that wasn’t nothing. I understood.

I returned to reality, his own eyes locked on something far away. We locked eyes, smiled and gave each other the biggest hug. We spoke over each other, each apologizing for not understanding, for not listening. We both sunk back into our form below, and lived the rest of our life as one being. First taking turns, learning about each other, then being able to switch nearly instantly, to the point of becoming almost the same person.

Then I woke up

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 2 years ago

Text

Coming Home (Part Ten)

Azriel x Reader

Hey, it's me again! I felt a bit bad for that last cliffhanger so I thought I’d give you another part 🤣 this part gets a bit heavy…and I don’t know if I like how it’s written but I hope you enjoy it all the same! ❤️

Warnings: Minor child injury detail, some ANGST!

⧪

“Tell me where we’re going.”

Azriel’s face was a sheet of pure, unflinching steel as the skies zipped past you. He’d barely spoken a word; had just scooped you up in his strong arms and shot into the air with little more than a grunt. You couldn’t tell if the sickness unfurling inside of you was born of being flown with alcohol still in your system, or the anxiety that had begun to prick at you.

Something was seriously, seriously wrong. You could see it in his eyes – the fury.

“Azriel.” You snapped, pounding a fist against his chest. “Tell me what’s going on! Has something happened to Rhys?”

He glanced at you, then – as if surprised that your brother was your first thought. “Not Rhys.” He said quietly.

And then they came into view beneath you – the cold, harsh Illyrian mountains. The brush of forestry that bordered the war camp. Like an ugly blot of ink on a pristine page, the hell that was your former home glared up at you, reached out to you.

“No.” You bucked in Azriel’s arms, and his hold on you tightened as if he’d anticipated it. “No! Put me down!”

You’d sworn – you’d sworn you’d never set a foot back in that soulless place you’d grown up in. That you’d never again allow it to sink its claws into you. The things you’d endured there–

“I’m sorry.” Az’s jaw set. “I wouldn’t bring you here if it wasn’t absolutely necessary…I wouldn’t come here if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. We – we need the help.”

You couldn’t breathe. You were going to faint, or vomit, or…something. The blissful effects of the alcohol were long gone, replaced by a sickening soberness. Azriel was unfazed by your thrashing against him as he banked, hard, and landed within a copse of trees.

Setting you on the ground did nothing to keep you upright. Your legs buckled beneath you, and he caught you beneath the arms, steadying you. Already, the smells of burning campfires, of mud and metal, were stuffing themselves up your nose. That oppressive, suffocating feeling…you couldn’t–

“Look at me.” Az’s face appeared before yours, palms cupping your cheeks. The warmth of him was pleasant against your icy skin; soothing you the tiniest bit. “I need you to concentrate for me, Y/N. We need you.”

You hadn’t realised you were crying until a tear spilled over, dropping onto Azriel’s hand. You could have sworn the winds carried the bite of your late father’s voice, the vicious words he’d spoken that had tainted this very place beyond repair. You tried and tried – to stare back at Azriel. To focus. To block it out.

“The girls have been attacked.” He said, his voice gruff.

Nothing was making sense. You frowned, blinking against your tears. “Girls?”

“After Under the Mountain,” He breathed, “Rhys did everything he could to change things around here – to make sure the young girls had equal opportunity to the boys. That they’d be educated and trained just the same. There was some pushback from the males, from the girls’ father’s...so Rhys sectioned a part of the camp off for the girls and had dormitories built…somewhere they could be guarded and trained safely.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Their fathers and some other males have retaliated – incited a riot. The girls weren’t guarded. They went in there and started picking them off, one by one. Clipping their wings.”

The shock of it was so icy cold, chilling you from the inside, that your emotions, your fear, became nothing more than background noise. Such a grotesque, evil practice – to clip anyone’s wings. To destroy their lives. Your ears were ringing.

“Madja is already here.” Azriel was already pulling you along, your boots scuffing against the forest floor. “And a couple of other healers. But we need all the help we can get, Y/N…the carnage…”

With shaking hands, you wiped your tears away, fixing a mask of cool calm onto your face. This was your job; what you were trained to do. You couldn’t let your feelings get in the way and put anyone’s lives at risk.

“Were any girls able to get to safety?” Your voice shook as you followed, trying to keep with Azriel’s pace.

“Some.” He nodded gravely. “Some ran to the cottages. Some hid. Some weren’t so lucky. Rhys and Cassian hunted every single one of the males down. They’re dealing with them now.”

Dealing with them. Whatever they were doing, you hoped it was slow. And painful.

Azriel pulled you through the trees, leading you to an unassuming brick building, surrounded by makeshift sparring rings and sparse racks barely stocked with weapons.

The sounds hit you immediately – crying. Screaming.

You wondered if you’d turned as pale as the Shadowsinger had.

⧪

Carnage was the right word.

The metallic sting of blood tinged the air. The dormitories were packed full with the pained cries of young girls and the frantic voices of the other healers as they shouted instructions to one another. Some girls, otherwise unharmed, merely cowered together in corners, trembling in fright. There were bowls of water carried back and forth, a spread of medical instruments and supplies, beds and sheets and pieces of ripped fabric tossed all over the place.

Where these girls usually ate and slept had been turned into an improvised infirmary.

Azriel pulled you along in great, hurried strides. Out of nowhere, Madja appeared in the hallway, falling to a stop before you.

“Thank the Gods.” She breathed. “You need to go – now. The room at the back there – the girl needs seeing immediately. There aren’t enough of us here.”

“I’ll help.” Azriel continued on. “Tell me how to help, and I’ll do it.”

Madja had already bustled through the door to what seemed to be some sort of dining room; the bulk of the chaos appeared to lay in there, with beds shoved side-by-side on which the injured girls lay, their cries mixing in with one another’s.

You pushed through the door Madja had directed you to, Azriel hot on your heels.

Only one girl lay in this room – perhaps the youngest you’d seen. Her blonde curls splayed out around her as she lay face-down, her body periodically twitching and jerking as she shook..

She looked…tiny. Too small, even, to stand upright with a heavy pair of wings to send her toppling over. And the damage to her back…

You knew immediately there was no salvaging those small, barely-formed wings. Torn and shredded beyond repair…your only choice was to treat the damage before what remained healed awkwardly, poorly, and the poor little girl was left with painful nerve and muscle damage for life.

You communicated all of this to Az with just a glance. No matter how much you wanted to buckle beneath the horror of the situation…to cry and cry until you were hoarse…an injured child needed you more than you needed yourself.

“Tell me what to do.” Az pleaded quietly, not once tearing his eyes from the little girl.

And so you did.

⧪

Her name was Thea, and she was six.

You did everything you could to ease her pain while you worked. Madja had been able to briefly drop by and help, but with so many other girls to see to, you were more or less on your own.

Aside from Azriel of course. Azriel was a lifeline.

If you asked him to do something, he did it. If you told him you needed him to get something, he got it. And when there was nothing he could physically do while you worked your magic on fixing as much damage as you could, he sat by Thea’s side and soothed her quietly. Held her tiny hand in his own. Kept her calm enough for you to do what needed to be done.

It felt like hours and hours of soaking your hands with blood. Stitching gashes and tears and bandaging her back. But even with all your effort and expertise, a sickening truth hung starkly in the air.

That little girl would never fly. Never know the song of the skies or the feel of the wind in her mass of blonde curls. A sick, vile coward had taken that from her. Sealed that fate forever.

You wondered if Rhys and Cassian had killed them yet. You hoped so.

Dawn was breaking by the time every girl had been seen to. Some would heal completely. Some had damage as severe as Thea’s. All of them would no doubt be left with the mental scars of what had been done.

An eerie silence had settled over the dormitories. With nothing more you could do for Thea than to let her rest and heal, you’d given her a sleeping draft; a chance for her small body to truly fall asleep and have some relief from the pain. Only when you were sure she was sleeping deeply on her front did you set about helping the other healers clean up the carnage. Draining away the bloodied water and setting a fire to burn the medical waste. It was a relief to not hear the cries of pain anymore – but the heavy emptiness left in their wake wasn’t much better.

The only thing you could cling to was that no lives had been lost. All girls would live.

Azriel didn’t leave Thea’s side for a long, long while, and you didn’t push him to. You could see the haunted shadows that had gathered in his eyes, the utter rage on his face. If it helped him to be a calming presence to a little girl who had suffered such horrors, you would leave him to be exactly that.

After a while, you had begun to think that maybe he’d fallen asleep in the chair beside Thea’s bed. You were just making your way back down the hall when he stepped out of the room, looking as exhausted and battered as you felt. He raked a hand through his hair, his wings seeming limp and tired behind him.

“You look dead on your feet.” His voice was rough, gritty.

That just about summed up how you felt. You knew the enormity of the situation would hit you at some point…the true weight and emotions of the horror. You pressed a hand against the wall, your head spinning. When was the last time you ate? It seemed like so long ago that you were stumbling into your bedroom with that nameless male.

“Come on.” Azriel made a grab for you, steadying you. “You need to sleep.”

“I’m not sure I can face the flight home–”

“Neither can I.” He still lifted you into his arms, though. “I’m taking you to your mother’s cottage. You can sleep there.”

Your eyes shuttered as Az carried you. Right – somehow, you’d forgotten you were even in Windhaven. There had been no room for your own trauma while trying to save the girls from theirs. Part of you wanted to face the flight after all – to get the hell out of there. Madja and two of the other healers were holding the fort, staying behind to keep an eye on the girls; you could return to Velaris if you truly wanted to.

But maybe you needed to show some of the bravery and strength that those children had. That Thea had.

And the Mother knew, Az looked in just as dire need of sleep as you were.

So you allowed him to carry you across the camp. Blocked out the noise and the sickening presence of the Illyrians you hated so much. They laughed and chatted around flickering fires as though a travesty hadn’t occurred mere yards from them.

You hid your face in Az’s leathers, and you didn’t argue as he carried you into your mother’s cottage.

⧪

“Here.”

You looked up, heavy eyes fixing on the rising tendrils of steam from the mug Azriel held out to you. He placed his own down on the small coffee table and joined you on the settee. He seemed far too big for it now.

Tired as you both were, you were too wired to sleep. Too many things to think about, to work through. So the two of you sat in silence with your own thoughts, only the crackle of the fire accompanying you.

Your eyes roved around the tiny open-plan space. It was strange…being back there. Like stepping into a past life. Walking in the steps of a ghost. Your mother had been dead a long time, now, and yet her presence was still very felt there. If you closed your eyes, you could swear you still smelt the bread she would bake, still hear the songs she would hum to you until you fell asleep.

You glanced at the table, a fond, muted smile tugging at your lips. That Gods-damn table – the same one your younger self used to sit across from Azriel at, gazing at him whilst Cassian teased you and Rhys tested you on what things you’d learned that day. Cas had once coaxed you into carving a crude word into the wood until your mother had noticed and sent you to bed early.

Far, far simpler times. Far, far out of reach.

Were you any bit the person you’d expected your younger self to grow up into?

No. You weren’t.

“Talk to me…”

You jumped, even though Azriel’s voice was barely above a whisper. You turned to face him, taking a long sip of the tea he’d made you. “What do you want to talk about?”

“You saved that little girl’s life tonight.”

Your gaze dipped. “Not her wings, though.” You murmured. “I couldn’t save her wings.”

A fact you knew would haunt you forever, even if nothing could have been done about it. You closed your eyes, savouring the feel of the steam rising from the cup and fanning your face. Until the cup was taken from your hands.

Az placed it down on the coffee table, beside his. He scooted closer to you, angling his body towards you. You watched, your heart fluttering slightly as he cupped your face in his hands. Rested his forehead against yours.

It was…close. Intimate. The closest you’d been since the kiss in your bedroom. And you wanted nothing more than to lean into it, to not let go of his touch.

But you behaved yourself. Didn’t move a muscle as his fingers stroked your cheeks, his breath brushing your lips.

“She will be okay,” He murmured, “Because of you.”

“How can she possibly be okay, Az? What they did–”

“Was barbaric. Evil. But she will be alright. Just like you’re alright, despite all of the horrid things you suffered here.”

You barked a curt, humourless laugh, pushing out of his hold. “I’m hardly alright.”

Az said nothing. You knew he was staring at you, trying to read you. But you needed to move your restless legs, to shout or scream or just do something. To finally get rid of the thoughts that had hammered you constantly for the past three weeks. Maybe longer. You stood up, pacing the floor before him.

“Y/N—”

“I,” You snapped, “am a mess, Azriel. A stupid, reckless mess.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I make one bad choice after another. I run away from my problems rather than face them. I act without thinking about who I might hurt, or what shame I might bring down upon everyone—”

“Bullshit.” Azriel spat. “What Rhys said to you was utter bullshit. You have to know that.”

But you didn’t know it. You weren’t even listening. As if the events of the last few weeks had just begun to creep up on you, the horrors you’d just faced weighing heavily on you, a laugh bubbled from your lips in near-hysteria.

“Do you know the worst thing about it?” You spun on your feet, laughing again as your eyes met Az’s. “I think I do all of those things because I’m scared of who I am without them. I’m so scared of being that nobody my father said I was, that I would rather be a complete fuck-up than nothing at all.”

Azriel’s eyes were dangerous as he stood, his jaw visibly clenching. “Stop it.”

“Look at all the shit that has happened since I came back. The trouble with Rhys and Lucien and Elain and you. Especially you.” You were pacing again, unaware of him moving closer. “I shouldn’t have come back. I should have stayed away.”

“Don’t,” Azriel snapped, “you fucking dare.”

“You—“

“I was fucking miserable while you were away. All those Gods-damned years, waking every day and wondering if that would be the day you turned back up on the doorstep. All the Starfalls and Solstices that you weren’t there to keep me sane amid all the chaos. All that time wondering if you were safe, if you were happy — I even kept the fucking note from the last Solstice gift you gave me, just so I had some part of you with me.” Finally, he inhaled a slow, deep breath; an attempt to quell his temper.. “So don’t ever say you should have stayed away, when you leaving destroyed me in the first fucking place.”

You’d gone cold.

So uncomfortably cold. And still. Rigid.

What exactly he was saying, insinuating — you weren’t sure. But you were stunned by the sudden urge to cry as you stared at him.

“…Then why?” You whispered, furiously blinking away tears. “Why tell me to keep my distance from you?”

You hated how small you sounded and felt. But with how much you were trembling, trying to win a useless fight against your tears, there was no strength to muster. Nothing you could do.

Azriel’s eyes shuttered. “Because I’m trying to do right by everyone. But I’m not sure I can.”

No, he couldn’t — you knew that. There was no possible way to please everyone…and you wouldn’t ever let him break his back trying to do so. But maybe…maybe you were being unfair. Maybe you’d asked too much of him in the first place.

Maybe you could…could settle. The thought alone made you wince, but surely you’d grow used to it—

“I don’t expect anything of you, Az.” You said quietly. “Just…having you in my life is enough. I don’t want to keep my distance from you.”

Those deep, stunning eyes of his opened. Fixed on you. There were a thousand indiscernible thoughts written on his face. So many things you wanted to ask about, delve into. But maybe you needed to learn not to do so.

Maybe some things were just…better left alone. Your feelings in particular.

“I don’t want to keep my distance from you, either.” Az said.

You inhaled a slow, deep breath. “So don’t. We can be…friends. Right?”

“…Right.” He studied your face. “Friends.”

You nodded, because that was all you could do. And even though you wanted to break, to cry until you could cry no more, you squared your shoulders and brushed past Azriel.

“I’m going to bed.” You told him softly. “Goodnight.”

Az nodded stiffly. “Goodnight.”

You climbed the narrow, creaking staircase, your heart heavy in your chest. Walking away from him felt so, so wrong, but it was time for you to have some semblance of control. Of restraint.

But still – you couldn’t help wondering what may have been left unsaid.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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i-just-like-goats · 2 years ago

Note

Ooooh how about Midoriya with a female reader like Akutagawa? She’s cold, fierce and won’t hesitate to cut down anything in her way, but deep down she still has a moral compass. And her quirk could be the same too!

Sorry that this took some time anon😅but thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy!

Midoriya x Female Reader

Summary: in the ask

Warnings: none that I can think of

WC: 1.3k

Main Masterlist

"Move,"

Midoriya stared at you with apprehension. You sighed and activated your quirk - Rashomon - and narrowly missed slicing his cheek. He clutched his cheek then slowly turned his head to see what you hit. Pieces of a robot lay scattered behind him.

"You haven't done anything, get a move on."

You ran towards your next target.For a few moments, Midoriya stood in awe as he watched you take down two robots at once. How strong your ability was. You stood there nonchalantly as the black shape from under your coat wrapped its tendrils around the robots and skewered them with spikes that it morphed into.

From where you stood, you tilted your head in his direction to give him a pointed look. That prompted Midoriya to start moving again. You continued taking down robots as other participants gave you looks of anger as you attacked the robots even with them in the way. You didn't hit anyone, but still their outrage bared its teeth at you. In your eyes, it was useless, you hadn't hit them and on top of that, you saved them. To you, you were just doing your task.

Midoriya felt a bit of pity for you, it seemed that all your quirk could do was destroy and that turned people against you - your cold persona did nothing to help save you from their wrath, but he was too busy with his own problem of his lack of points. How foolish of him to get distracted by a girl he just met.

A particularly large robot came and walked in your direction. With a clear goal in mind, Midoriya used All for One to punch the robot. Chunks of it came flying down towards you. You sighed - so far, Rashomon was ill suited for defense, so you jumped out of the way using Rashomon to push yourself away.

You watched as Midoriya's injured body came hurtling down towards the ground. Instantly, you used Rashomon to throw yourself in time to hook your arms under his knees and neck. You sighed at the cliché position but kept your hold on him as Rashomon lowered you to the ground safely.

"Can't have you dying a hero before we've even passed,"

"Thank you,"

You set him down slowly by Recovery Girl. His injuries were uncommonly severe, considering it was his quirk. Surely he should have mastered it already.

"You have no points. That massive robot awarded zero points. It'll take a miracle for you to get in now. But I hope to see you again, your actions scream heroic,"

With a bow, you walked off as Midoriya stared dejectedly at the ground.

Your first day at UA finally came. The doors of 1A loomed over you. Steeling yourself, you pushed open the door to see a nerd and a scowling boy arguing. Your eyes scanned the scene with disinterest until they landed on a familiar green head.

"You got in?"

Midoriya turned his head to the source of the noise and smiled at you.

"Yeah! It was a miracle like you said, but I guess they saw the heroic actions that you spoke of,"

You pulled your gaze to the floor, slightly embarrassed that he remembered.

"I wish you well," was all you said as you took a seat somewhere.

Months flew by and during that time, Midoriya became a dear friend to you. His bright personality was a stark contrast to yours but that made your admiration grow. Despite the villains, he still kept his cheery attitude and stubborn determination.

"Emo vampire. Move out of the way,"

Your eyebrows furrowed at Bakugou's nickname for you.

"Why should I?"

"You're in my way,"

"This is a team challenge, you can't pull your 'I work alone' work ethic here,"

"Tch. I can work in a team, just not in a team with you, Deku and half and half,"

Todoroki looked up at the sound of his nickname as Midoriya sighed at Bakugou's hostility.

"Come on Kaa-Chan, we need to work together to pass,"

"You guys do that, I'm going alone,"

You rubbed your temples. An explosion sounded not too long after Bakugou left. You rubbed your temples even harder. Midoriya stared at you, concern written all over his face.

"Um, Y/N, I think we should help him,"

You didn't hear his quiet voice and ran off after Bakugou.

"That idiot's going to fail us," You muttered.

Midoriya's eyes widened and took off after you as Todoroki caught up to him. Meanwhile, you ran up the hill where Bakugou stood with a horde of robots surrounding him. A nitroglycerin charged explosion completely caught you off guard. It sent you flying off the ledge.

Desperately, you tried to use Rashomon to grab onto the hill, but it only grazed it.

"Defence has never been my strong suit,"

You prepared yourself to fall painfully to the ground by putting Rashomon underneath you as a buffer between your body and the ground.

The impact never came, for you found an arm hooked under your knees and around your shoulders. You tentatively look up at your saviour. Midoriya.

"Can't have you dying on me,"

"This is awfully familiar,"

"Yeah? Well I did launch myself up using my quirk to catch you before you became a pancake just like that time,"

He set you down safely. Aizawa's unimpressed face looked down at you on the ground.

"What happened to teamwork?"

Todoroki and Bakugou joined the two of you. That was when Aizawa started his long lecture about the importance of teamwork despite whoever was on your team.

You and Midoriya walked off together. Silence ensued.

"Thank you for saving me,"

"Think of it as repayment for saving me at the entrance exam,"

"You remember that?"

"Of course I do! You completely captivated me,"

Midoriya's eyes shone as he recounted your impressive use of your quirk. You looked down shyly at the ground in response. Midoriya's face reddened and he stopped walking as what he just said to you sank in.

"I'm captivating?" You asked softly.

With an exhale, Midoriya nodded his head enthusiastically.

"Totally! I was just so drawn to how you skilfully used Rashomon to take down multiple robots. Its use is more for destruction, but you still decided to take the hero course and I really admire that. I did think that you were extremely intimidating at first, but when you saved me, I started really warming up to you,"

Your cheeks felt as though Bakugou had just let off an explosion on them.

"That was really long,"

Midoriya's expression morphed into one of surprise then bashfulness. You laughed at his cute expression.

"Sorry. That was really blunt, but I appreciate it. I didn't know that you thought this about me, I'm flattered,"

"It's no problem. We're friends aren't we?"

"Oh my gosh! Just date already, it's so obvious you're more than friends!"

You snapped your head to whoever was shouting at you.

"H-how long have you been standing there Mina?" Midoriya asked.

"It's not just me,"

Practically the whole class emerged from the shadows.

"Come on you guys. You two would be so cute together! And don't deny it, those soft looks at school tell a whole love story,"

Mina's words made yours and Midoriya's faces burn.

"Do you really feel that way?" You looked hopefully at Midoriya.

"I- um, this is so sudden. I had hoped that this moment would come when I was more prepared and-"

You cut him off with a tight hug.

"Stop rambling, because I really like you,"

A goofy smile erupted on his face while everyone else awed at the adorable scene in front of them.

"I-I like you too,"

Your hug tightened and Midoriya's smile widened. You just both dearly wished that that moment of pure joy could have lasted forever.

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bloodycassian · 3 years ago

Text

anon request - READER X AZRIEL - sorry if this wasn’t exactly what you want! I got a bit carried away in my own idea of Azriel being supportive but protective at the same time!

some hurt/comfort with Azriel where he and the reader get in a huge fight over protecting Elain (like they travel to a different court and Azriel is overprotective) and then the reader goes scouting to also cool down a bit and they get ambushed, the reader gets injured and the mating bond snaps. Hope it's not too much trouble!!

Elain was absurdly still as the conversation played out. Conversation being a loose term for the shouting happening around her. You didn’t leave her side though, even though your anger flourished while they spoke as if she wasnt there. Azriel was packing her things, shoving them haphazardly into a bag. The bag that Feyre had given her from their first trip down to the markets after Elain had started acting somewhat normal again. The happy memory seemed so distant now, compared to the anxiety ridden emotions that played about in the room.

“We are not going to the continent.” Az’s tone shift was abrupt, a snap of anger leaning into it. He tied the top of the bag closed and set it roughly atop the living room table. The scattered odds and ends of survival gear and weapons scraped against the wood. You watched the stare down between the high lord and his shadowsinger patiently. Waiting for your moment to speak rationally to them.

Rhys’ power roiled above, his eyes did not hide his frustration with his brother. His gaze was simmering with that dark power he possessed. Azriel did not back down. “The continent is the only place that may be safe. If the King finds out she’s a Seer he will never let her go. We can’t risk losing her as a hostage.”

You knew she would be a hostage too. Feyre would never let her sister be taken without a fight. Rhys knew his mate well enough to know not to risk just Elain, but Feyre too. Cauldron knew what Nesta would do if she were in that room during the conversation. Likely spitting fire and shoving Elain out the door to wherever she seemed to think was safe. Thankfully, both sisters were scouring deep in the library for any way to help win this battle.

Azriel did not break eyecontact with his brother as he made to speak again. You interrupted before he could make the situation worse. “I have somewhere in mind.” You spoke softly, urging the staring contest to end. Azriel looked away first, and you were surprised at that. His eyes met yours with something like relief. “Autumn. We have Eris on our side if we’re caught. I have a spot we can stay until-” Azriels scoff sent anger shooting through you. You clenched your teeth together to keep from lashing out at him as he had been doing just moments before.

“Autumn is possibly the worst place we could send you right now. We’re on the brink of war with them potentially being on Hyberns side. We would be sending you straight to Hybern himself.”

“Exactly. It’s stupid and they would never expect it.”

“You’re not going. Beron exiled you. Don’t you remember what that means?” He looked at you with actual concern now that he knew you were serious. As if you had been injured and you were speaking a different language.

“It means we will be safe from Hybern when they come here to look for Elain. Isn’t that the point?” You wrapped an arm around her small shoulders and pulled her close. Az couldn’t argue with that. The other courts were not an option, as it would be harboring a target against one of the Night court Allies. And Winter court was nowhere to be spending the night. Not many survived the night there without shelter.

Rhys’ sigh was long and exhausted. Left without another option, he nodded to himself. He held out a hand and summoned two necklaces, both with pendants of black onyx that shimmered in the firelight. Az’s brows pinched together at the sight of them. The dull glow behind him shone through his wings, highlighting all the delicate structures there. You found his wings more beautiful than the enchanted stone Rhys handed you.

“Hybern won’t be able to sense your magic. Keep these on.”

Azriel was already tensing, his fists balling at his sides ready to make it physical if Rhys refused to listen. He knew with his entire being that something was off. Something would go wrong this night. His shadows warned him of something. And he couldn’t shake it no matter how hard he tried. “Rhys-”

“And you will be going with them. Keep them company while Feyre and I investigate just how many ships and forces they plan to bring.” He ordered in that indisputable tone of the high lord. With only a hint of friendliness. He gave Az a long look before turning back to you and Elain. “Do not take those off.” The nodded to the necklaces and started to winnow. Elain stood abruptly, startling you.

“Thank you.” She said softly to the high lord. He seemed taken aback for a second, before giving her a gracious nod and finally disappearing. You rose to Elain’s height and took her hand in yours. It was warm, welcoming. “We’re going to be fine.” You promised, not caring if Azriel saw the care you gave her. She had been there for you just as you needed to be now. She had practically kept you alive with her soft humming and reading to you when you were at your worst after being exiled.

“I know.” She said, voice soft as rose petals. But that dark power within her were the thorns of that pretty, perfect rose. The reason Hybern even knew to look in Velaris for Elain. That cauldron calling power that she couldn’t control to save her life. You grimly smiled at her.

“We need to leave.” Azriel ordered, tone neutral. Just a warrior needing to move troops.

“Let me get your bag.” Elain said, giving you a squeeze of her hand, disappearing up the stairs. Leaving you with the brooding Illyrian. You grimaced in his direction. He ignored you as best he could, hoping that the time for babysitting would pass quickly. He had always found it strange how you and Elain moved like magnets together. Found the soft way you comforted each other somehow upsetting. He paced quietly in front of the fire while you gathered your gear. Two small blades - one for Elain - and your sword. You rubbed at a speck on the hard steel of the sword.

Perhaps his lack of family had made that rivaling jealousy turn into hatred for the display of affection. He contemplated to himself. Had he become cold to everyone? Too harsh? Had the darkness he possessed taken him over? He tore his eyes from your short sword and locked them with yours. The thrill he felt wasn’t from anger or terror. His cheeks flushed slightly and you fought the grin that you wanted so badly to flaunt at him. The innuendos regarding the sword that you wanted to say were cut off by that look he gave you.

“Do not get into a situation where you have to use that.” He warned with a stern look. You couldn’t help the angelic smile you gave him.

The smell of rotting apples and decaying leaves was all you needed to sense to know you were home. You took in the court border slowly, adjusting to your orientation after being winnowed. Elain clutched your hand tightly, the bag in her other hand quivered only slightly from her shaking. Your hands became slick with sweat at the familiar sights and smells of Autumn. You hadn’t been back since being exiled.

“We wont be able to have a fire.” Azriel stated, gazing towards the sky. It was far too clear of a day out to risk it. The slight chill in the air filled your stomach with dread for the night to come.

“This way.” You pulled Elain along with you, leaves crunching under your feet as you entered Autumn court. She didn’t move. Her eyes were blank, staring lifelessly into the orange and yellow forest. “Elain?” You asked softly.

“Five foxes will die tonight. Three more in the morning.”

Her words sent a chill down your spine.

Az took the lead, territoriality putting himself a few paces in front of you. He wasn’t subtle about it either, occasionally jogging ahead to scout for any enemies around piles of bramble when you came across it.

By the time you found your hideout, you were fed up with waiting for him to give you the all clear everywhere you went. You let you go of Elains now calm hand and stormed into the small shack with familiarity. Azriel hissed and seethed when you lit a lantern inside. “Get over yourself, Shadowsinger.” You laughed, taking in the small piece of home you made for yourself long ago.

It indeed was a long time ago when you’d last been there. But it still felt homey to you. The small space was just big enough for a stove, the table you’d found, and a bed pushed against the far wall. The fireplace hadn’t been used in years. Soot marked small animal prints along the light plank floors.

The dusty blankets on the makeshift bed were pocked with holes from mice and moths. The fireplace was nearly caved in on itself. The bramble covering that acted like a second roof was growing through the actual roof in some places. But it was still home. Your small exit from the world when things got too tough. Even after being exiled Beron hadn’t known about this place. He would have had it destroyed if he did know of it.

Elain pushed in passed Azriel. His shadows went wild. Searching every surface of the cabin. The long beams of the floor were hardly visible through the darkness he brought.

You knew you should have brought more blankets. You held back the teeth chattering as best you could, letting Elain sleep. She would need all the rest she could get. You could tell she’d been tired after the days walk. She rested peacefully under the layers while the wind shuddered the leaves outside. You pulled your coat tighter to your body.

“This was a stupid idea.” Azriel muttered from the corner. He didn’t seem cold, but the dark curls of shadow wrapped around him protectively. While you were left with nothing more than a coat. Your own magic couldn’t save you from the stormy wind, the necklace Rhys had given you also weakened your power enough that you couldn’t use it. Even in your homeland. It bothered you endlessly, feeling so useless in such a dire situation of needing to help Elain.

“Then maybe you should just leave.” You barked back simply. He didn’t have to come in the first place if he was going to be so bothered.

“I just mean-” He sighed, and sat on the creaky old table that took up half the small kitchenette. “We could have done this better. We could have planned… Differently.”

“We didnt have the time. We’re here now, so we just need to deal-”

“I know that. I’m just bothered that you’re so recklessly looking for danger everywhere we go.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’m from here Azriel. I know what areas are dangerous.”

“Maybe once.” His eyes were not angry when he said it. They were full of pity and doubt. Your rage spilled over, and you were ready to shout. Ready to scream at him about what a piggish idiot Illrian he was being. But Elain turned over, sighing softly to herself.

So instead, you clamped down on that burning anger and walked out. And of course he decided to try to follow you. He made it a few steps outside the cabin before you turned on him, ready to roar. “Be safe at least.” He tossed his red jeweled dagger to you. Your heart squeezed, choking you up slightly. You brushed it away as best you could before he could see. You couldn’t yell at him.

So you took the dagger and walked briskly away, into the brush of autumn forests. Laced with the smell of heavy fruits and warm trees. Leaves fluttering in your wake as the wind tossed with ease.

You held his knife close at your side the entire aimless walk. Then, the sound of twigs snapping and males laughing heartily made you pause.

Far to your east was a dull glow beyond a knoll. You backed away slowly. Trying to be as soundless as possible in case they could scent you. The breeze whipped at your skin, blowing in their direction. The trees above you shuddered sharply, and you swore as a heavy weight fell upon your shoulders.

Azriel paced in the kitchenette, his shadows swirling around him relentlessly, waiting for a target. It felt wrong letting you go. It felt like letting his hope sink. His shadows even seemed upset about it, as they now whipped around him angrily.

He swore he was going to run a rut through the plank floor. He sighed, glanced to Elain’s sleeping figure and forced himself to sit. You had the dagger. You were capable. You knew the area and knew what you were doing. He tried his best to soothe himself. It didn’t help much.

The old chair creaked under his weight, and he smiled. For someone who claimed they couldn’t work around the house, you were quite the crafter making such a nice hideaway for yourself. He finally took a moment to pause, and actually look at the cabin.

The stove may have been older than he was. The missing burners on top were replaced with a few forks placed carefully around them. The ancient shelves were dusty, along with all the jars and cups atop them. Cobwebs spotted the entire house, but his shadows had gotten rid of most of them after the first one clung to his face upon walking in.

Then he came to the table he sat at, the four unmatching chairs circling it. The table itself was solid oak, he could tell that much. But he wondered how you’d gotten it inside at all. Out of curiosity, he pulled on it. It didn’t budge. His eyebrows knitted together, and he stood slowly. The curiosity consumed him. He gave the table another tug. Still, no movement.

He crouched down, and noticed the planks around the single leg of the table had been cut out. Then he noticed the intricate roots weaving their way up the trunk. The table wasn’t just a table. It was an entire tree - or what was a tree once… And you’d built the entire cabin around it. His awe was quickly quieted by Elain.

“A part of you is missing. The foxes will die.” She muttered sleepily, her eyes blank. And he lay back down as if it hadn’t happened. “Elain?” Azriel called. Dread, cold and stinging coarse through him. “Elain?” He asked quietly, approaching her side. She flung the covers from her lithe body. Azriel jumped back, holding his hands up defensively. “It’s okay, its me.” He calmed her, noting the wild look in her expression.

“Find yourself.” She breathed, her eyes going wide with concern. Azriel’s heart sped, and he felt like he’d been dunked in a cold ocean of dread. Terror drug him under the deep waves and threatened to drown him the first chance it got. He took Elains hand and started walking the direction you’d left.

Leaving behind the supplies and the living table that you’d created.

A glance at the oversized uniforms told you all you needed to know. The fox sigil pinned to their tunics proved that the uniforms were stolen from Autumn soldiers. Your blood boiled. Elain had been right. But they would die. Five of them, at least. But you had only glimpsed at three so far. You tugged at the ropes that bound you. Firm, and not able to be broken.

Their campsite was large, and full of small boxes of different fruits. Several different types of weapons leaned against their low lying tents. And with how many scars their fae leader had, you knew the rest of their story in an instant. Bandits. Filthy trade merchants that lived for thievery and making a quick gold mark.

And you’d be worth their weight in gold once they turned you in to Beron.

“We’ve got a live one!” The male shouted to his comrades. They cheered drunkenly, their voices carried far by the wind. Their fire sparked and popped against the blue night sky. And you knew that your death may not come in glory of battle, or in the name of your home. But in being stupid enough to be caught by bandits. You could have died that instant if it would mean you didn’t have to feel that kind of shame.

The male cut the opal from your neck, and you felt your magic explode from you. Your thoughts were racing, searching. Finding something cold and dark in the depths of your mind and tugging on it. Then, it was a live beast beneath your mental hands. It coiled and rose, ready to strike.

The same one cut a long line down your cheek with the blade that had just cut your only protection against Hybern from you. You prayed to the mother that Hybern was too busy to notice a small blip of magic from an Autumn fae like you. You hissed in pain as the blade stung its way down to your neck, stopping at your collarbone.

You pulled on that coiling beast that called to you. Beckoned it to find you, to help you from this pain. Maybe you were begging for death, or at least unconsciousness so you wouldnt have to feel the pain anymore. The male stood back to let another scaled lower fae get a look at you. His tongue lashed out over your bloodied neck. He hummed in approval, letting his forked wetness slither across your wounds.

You felt them seal and itch with every pass as he took your blood. “Good.” the one with the blade ordered, then… to your dread, he pulled a glowing rod from the fire. They would brand you. Then take you to the high lord. Only after they’d humiliated you though. The males clucked at your involuntary reaction. They huddled close around, waiting for the screaming to start. Their excitement coated the air with a tangy adrenaline filled scent.

You reared away from the burning metal as best as you could. The ropes around you seemed weaker now that you had your weak magic back, but still too constricting to do much with.

You closed your eyes as the glow approached your chest. It warmed your face with the heat. They were going slow on purpose. Wanting to savor your reaction. It made your stomach go queasy. You hoped you would pass out. Better yet, just die of the agony. That way Beron wouldn’t have the satisfaction of killing you himself.

There was a thump, and sizzling. You cracked open your eyes, waiting that searing pain to hit you. But it didnt. The males stood back, bewildered. Across the camp in the dull glow of the fire as the one that had been lowering the branding stick to you. It was speared through his chest, pinning him to a tree. His mouth gasped, eyes wide and glowing a haunting orange from the fire. You would never forget the sight of it. The smoldering that came from the tree behind him as the hot iron burned into it. The wet sounds of his mouth opening and closing.

Then, the gasp and thump each male that Azriel incapacitated before you. Elain stood at the edge of the trees, her eyes still puffy from sleep. Azriel kept the kills quiet and concise. None resembled the one pinned to the tree, now sagging under the weight of death. No, the rest of them had easy deaths at the hands of one skilled at dealing killing blows. The wet splatter of blood leaving a body pulled you back to the scene in front of you. Az’s scowl as he cleaned his blade was that of a warrior who had seen much worse. Done much worse.

“I told you not to fucking-” He snarled, his hands on the rope at your wrists. He stopped though, and stared. The shadowed light of his eyes seemed to be blooming with awe. You couldn’t look away. The beauty in the deep irises, the way small freckles played about his dark skin. All new and exciting things you’d never noticed before. His scent alone was like a punch to the gut.

Him. Azriel. It had been him to find you. Him to respond to that silent plea that you so badly needed to be heard. He was that coiling darkness that had saved you. Your breath was a gasp, and you nearly fell to your knees before him.

His hands didn’t work anymore. The world stopped turning all together. His heart was no longer his own and his soul belonged wherever you were. It didn’t matter that you were in the middle of a foreign court’s borders. It didn’t matter that Elain trembled in the corner of the clearing. He was yours, and you were his.

He vowed it, for eternity that was how it would stay. He’d never leave your side again. Never choose to be without you for as long as he may be alive. His very being was now shared. With you. His soul intertwined your yours, wrapping delicately around your earthy light that contrasted his darkness so perfectly. If you were the sun he was the moon, always chasing, always following and living in your light.

The words weren’t needed but he managed to utter them. Around a shuddering breath and a shattering explosion of love he managed it. “My mate.”

#azriel #azriel x reader #acotar #acotar fic #reader x azriel

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gyuluster · 4 years ago

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the prince and the jackal | {f}

collab oneshot | fantasy! au | 11.8k words

“Because the prince of the earth can make you fall not only for nature, but the boy who rules over it.”

s u m m a r y : in the Kingdom of Terrae, you, a metalbender, believe in the deforestation to modernise the land. As a member of the Lumberjackals, you thrive on cutting down trees and stealing resources until you get caught by the Crown Prince, Choi Beomgyu, a lover and embodiment of the nature you wish to destroy. However, instead of imprisoning you for your crimes, Beomgyu decides to show you the beauty and wonders of nature, leaving you to doubt your beliefs, your identity, and your very feelings for the certain boy determined to change you for the better.

w a r n i n g s : prince! beomgyu, woodcutter! metalbender! reader, reader hates wildlife and all things nature, beomgyu is sunshine and flowers and everything good, shit ton of wildlife and fantasy stuff, bts kim line are part of the lumberjackals so are evil in this story i am so sorry y’all, beomgyu has a pet squirrel called jisung yes han jisung, kind of enemies to lovers not really but im pretending it is

p l a y l i s t : fairy of shampoo by txt | colours of the wind by judy kuhn | willow by taylor swift

a u t h o r ‘ s n o t e : yes i am back from the dead to bring this fic hello!! this is a collab with @soobmint @juunnies @bffsoobin @honeyju pls do read their parts too they’re so sexc <3 do lemme know what you all think and thank you for reading!!

back to collab masterlist

back to my masterlist

“And this prayer I make, Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her.” — William Wordsworth, Tintern Abbey, 1798.

“ONE MORE BLOODY TREE, AND I’LL SCREAM THIS FOREST DOWN!”

You ignored the complaints of your comrades, trekking deeper into the forest.

The sun was nearly drowned out by the towering shade of the surrounding trees, and there remained a constant buzz of the animals, either scurrying away or chirping in the skies. The cut up logs strapped on your back was a huge burden, and slowed your steps as you trudged onto the muddied pathways, staining your boots.

“_____, how much longer until we go to the markets?” one of the men asked, exhaustion clear in his voice.

“Just a few more logs, Tae,” one of the woodcutters, Seokjin, answered, casting a side-ways glance at you.

“But we’ve already got so many!” the former whined, pointing to the goods over their shoulders. “We can make decent money today!”

Unsheathing your sword, you cut away at the vines in your path, masking your sight ahead. It must be here somewhere, you thought, eyes darting sharply to every flower and bush. It has to be.

“Haven’t you fools understood already?” a snarl resonated from the group. Your horse trotted past you as Namjoon, sat on top, brought out his machete, brutally slicing the branches of the towering trees. “The wood we’ve got won’t last us all year!”

His eyes blazed with a certain greed as he looked over you all. “We must find the Tree of Life,” he declared, strolling past you, cutting down the path. “One strip of its bark could bring us a fortune.”

You listened to his statements with raised brows, following in his steps. In truth, none of you had ever seen the Tree of Life. No one in the kingdom had for centuries — it had become something of a myth, a legend passed down from every earthbender to child of its origins, and its significance. You didn’t know the great specifics, but the whole group knew that if they were to obtain even a twig from the great tree, it could grant them millions worth of gold.

And that was something the Lumberjackals desired more than the wellbeing of an omnipotent tree.

Soon, the search progressed, your group cutting down a few Ebonies for its useful properties, but there was no heavenly legend welcoming you in all its finery. The sun was descending on the horizon, and although Spring was present, you were situated in the part of the forest where the gusts of the Ice Kingdom blew consistently in your direction. The cold was about to descend, and you were far from your home in the Metallum villages.

Taehyung, the youngest of the Kim brothers, held onto a nearby oak, all strength leaving him. “I don’t know about you, but I am not travelling any further.” He glared daggers at Namjoon, who showed no signs of stopping. “I’m setting camp here, and you can do nothing to stop me.”

Seokjin joined his youngest sibling, collapsing on the patch of grass beside the gathering of flowers as he shrugged off his work of the logs. “I vote a little rest, even if Joon does not understand its meaning.”

The said-man let out a scoff at those words. “You both are just bloody lazy!” He turned to you, eyes pinning you where you stood. “You’ll keep searching with me, right?”

You agreed, but when you saw the fatigue in your leader’s gaze you grabbed the reins from his horse, stepping beside him. “You need sleep, Joon,” you said, concern in your eyes. “I’ll do another search. You three stay here.”

Namjoon held your stare for a moment before swiping his leg over the back of the horse, jumping off. He handed you the reins fully. “Come back after dawn. Us three will take over from you.”

You had a right mind to challenge the amount of time he was making you explore, but you kept your mouth shut, heaving onto the animal. Dumping your logs of wood upon the ground, you dipped your head in farewell to the Kim brothers. “I will see you in the morning, boys.”

Taehyung waving excitedly as he set up camp, Seokjin going straight to bed upon his blankets, and Namjoon’s stare cold yet understanding, you cracked the reins as the horse began to gallop away from the oaklands, and deeper into the forest.

The moon barely lit the way as you delved deeper into the trees, the sounds of nature turning sinister as the owls began to hauntingly hoot, and the wildcats began to purr. You kept your sword close, in your hand as the other steadied your horse.

You let out a hard sigh as you commenced your searching. Sometimes, only when you were alone, you wished that Namjoon would snap out of his delusions. There was no Tree of Life, no invaluable source of fortune which would challenge the earthbenders and start their industrialisation. In truth, you only wished for a life more than just cutting down wood, but your leader’s promises could be much too enticing.

Perhaps he was right. Maybe with the metalisation of Regna Terrae the metalbenders would be able to progress. It was not like the Kingdom cared for the likes of you, nor the nature which brought you to existence.

Stupid, damned forest. What good had it ever done you?

Suddenly, you heard the harsh snapping of the twigs which wasn’t from your horse. In an instant you halted, pulling the reins as your eyes darted to every corner of the dark forest.

Silence.

You furrowed your brows.

The forest cannot be trusted. Even its silences were sinister and misleading.

Slowly, you got off your horse, tying the reins to a nearby tree. “Keep still, Aurum,” you whispered. “I’ll be right back.”

Patting the mane, you turned and followed in the direction of where the sound was heard, every step quiet and cautious. There was little light, you having to rely on your ears alone, and the hands which touched trunk from trunk. In moments like these, you wished you possessed a more useful power than mere metal manipulation — firebending would have been nice, but you supposed that luck had never been in your favour.

Seething, you held onto your sword tighter, sending a little rush of power from your fingers as it sharpened the steel. No one tailing you would survive in your hands.

You then heard a little sigh, and whipped your head to the direction. Gritting your teeth, you rushed to the place of the origins, anger rising. Swiping away the branches in your path, your boots were the only sound among the quiet hush of the forest, along with the slicing of your weapon. Whoever was toying with you will not leave your wrath.

Swiping away the plants, you finally found an opening of grass among the trees. Squinting, your anger surged to find a distant figure standing before you, all masked in shadows from the lack of light within your surroundings. It stood statue-still, matching your deathly quietness.

But the figure did not seem like it offered death. Nor anything so dangerous as you promised.

“Come out!” you shouted, taking a step forward. “I know you were following me!”

No response.

“Scared, are you?!” Another hesitant step. “As you should be!”

Still, only silence answered, and the soft crunch of the leaves underneath your boots. You took a deep breath, shining your sword from the moonlight. A scoff emitted from you, nerves disappearing. This should be easy.

With an aggravated roar, swinging your weapon, you thundered towards the figure.

You rushed into the moonlight pooling onto the grass, eyes intent with damage as you willed iron-like power from your veins, and into your hands, swirling around the fuller of your sword until it reached its tip, ready to burst onto the figure.

It was then the shadows moved.

A flick of his hand. A soft glow within the darkness.

And all of nature followed suit.

You were taken aback as the thousands of vines circulating the surrounding trees unwrapped themselves from their trunks, and snapped towards you in thundering speed. You had no time to take in their stems swirling around your feet, cutting off your run towards this certain figure. A gasp escaping, you were pulled back by the impact, and let out a further scream as you began to fall flat on your face. Then, even more shock reverberated through you as your feet were pulled upwards, shooting your body up until you were suspended from a tree branch, your one foot wrapped tightly in the vines.

Your world all upside down, you shook your head vigorously, feeling the strain of your one leg under complete control of the tree. The thrum of powerful magic of nature resonated through your body, ceasing you from moving your free leg and kicking any potential passerbys.

Craning your head backwards, you saw with horror that your sword was clattered upon the ground, too far away to reach from the air. Straining your hand towards the grass, you willed your magnetic force, trying to lure your weapon into your hand.

The sword would have ended up in your grasp if another surge of the same natural magic did not break its path, sending it back on the earth.

Enraged, you looked out to the dark, sight distorted. “Gods, just come out already!” you screamed, swinging slightly by your sheer force. “Stop hiding in the damned shadows!”

There was a flutter of little animals coming out from the shadows. “Ha!” you spat, reaching for the dark. “Only sending a few creatures to scare me? You’re going to have to work harder than that!”

When there was another round of silence, you laughed harshly to yourself. “That’s what I thought.”

This time, however, you were not greeted by their usual, quiet answer.

More vines slithered down your frame, pushing your hands together. You gritted your teeth as the gnarly weeds tightened around your wrists, stopping yourself from using your hands.

Glaring daggers at the darkness ahead, you spat at the ground. “Show yourself!” you roared.

Your threats were answered.

Responded in an unimaginable way as the figure stepped into the moonlight.

You could not suppress your reaction.

The most enchanting boy you had ever seen revealed himself from the shadows. You could clearly see him from the light, the soft, child-like features amplified by his undoubted beauty — his mahogany locks curled around his face, cascading over his forehead. His gentle eyes promised great amusement, more so when they landed upon you, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. He was adorned in a fine green gown, few assortments strapped on his belt as leather boots, etched in ink, covered his feet. A crown of flowers and leaves settled in his curls, emitting its own, fantastical glow among the darkness.

The smile curved wider at your widened eyes. “Why so speechless now, my lady?”

By all the gods. Even his voice sounded like the sweetest honey in all the hives.

“I have come before you, now,” he continued, deeply amused by your bewilderment. “I have stopped hiding in those damned shadows, as you said.

“Where is your anger?”

Well, that seemed to bring your rage all back.

“It’s still here, you bastard!” you hissed, struggling in the rope-like vines as you tried to swipe your hand across his face. He merely took a step back, completely out of your range.

“Even without a weapon you are a force to be reckoned with,” the mysterious boy voiced out, raising his fingers as magic sparked from the tips. Instantly the vines encircled your arms, pinning them to your sides as the weeds wrapped around you completely. You were like a human-sized caterpillar, cocooned in vines except you would not turn into a butterfly and rush away into the forest.

This nuisance before you would make sure of that.

A satisfied hum escaped him. “There we go,” he said. “Now you won’t be of any danger.”

“Who even are you?” you demanded, glaring daggers at the sight before you. Terrible shame that the sight was something you wouldn’t mind witnessing for the rest of your life. Even if it was upside down.

A hint of surprise exposed upon his features. “Oh, this is amusing, indeed.”

He took a step towards you, you catching the faint scent of...flowers and trees and fruit and honey. You couldn’t really figure out a perfect essence — if nature had a scent, then this boy embodied it. “I am surprised you know not of me when you wish to destroy what I own.”

You raised a brow, at eye level with him, despite the loopy image.

Then, the gears in your head turned, and you were struck hard with the realisation.

When you wish to destroy what I own.

“Oh gods,” you slipped out.

The boy smiled.

No, not just the boy.

The Prince of Regna Terrae — the heir to the Earth Kingdom.

Choi Beomgyu.

Maybe this explained his otherworldly beauty. Crown princes of the earth kingdoms were known to be blessed by nature, so adorned the finest features known to man. Standing before you now, you cursed yourself for not seeing it before.

And cursed yourself again for cursing at him. Multiple times.

Beomgyu saw your eyes moving a mile a second and spluttered out a soft laugh, raising a finger so you focused on him. “I am glad you have figured out my identity. Now we both know what we are.”

His next words did not possess much hilarity. “I, a prince, and you, a Lumberjackal.”

The declaration had you gulping. There’s no escaping this.

He was not wrong in the slightest — you were a part of the Lumberjackals — a group dedicated to industrialising the Earth Kingdom, and giving it a head start from the other kingdoms who did not possess the natural resources that this land contained. You prided on deforestation, the cutting of wood and, even to a certain extent, the consumption of animals. Although you never participated in the last activity out of pure shame, you knew the Kim brothers certainly did, and enjoyed it to great extent.

“Do you deny it?”

You tried to look away, but his gaze was a little too intense. Even if it was reversed. “I do not.”

“And what do you have to say for yourself?” he got out, and you could hear the pain in his voice. Could you even blame him? You destroyed what he held so dear.

Still. You were a metalbender. The desire for modernisation is in your very blood.

“I do what I must do, your Highness,” you grit out, struggling in your weedy cocoon. “It is the only way we survive.

“And I will not stop.”

The boy’s eyes widened a fraction, in pure disbelief. He could not comprehend this — how could one be so against the idea of nature? How could anyone be so resolute in the decimation of what they survived on?

Prince Beomgyu cocked his head, pursing his lips.

How could one hate a deity he considered so beautiful?

He said so himself.

“How?”

You blinked.

The boy continued. “How can you hate nature?”

His question took you by surprise — you did not really know the answer yourself.

It was not like you despised the earth in all its natural form. Sure, it brought you the air you breathed, the food you ate, and the water you drank. But what else had nature given you?

You soured upon seeing the Prince’s face. You did not possess the powers other Terrae citizens were gifted with. Your branch of magic was hard, unforgiving. Simply a practicality, only useful for finding resources and making weapons.

Where were your subservient vines? Where was your natural greatness?

With this in mind, you mustered up the most brutal expression you could offer to the boy before you.

“Because nature was not kind to the likes of me. So I shall not be kind to it either.”

This time, the Prince’s eyes widened even further, afraid they would pop right out of their sockets.

Once again, his mind was in a twist — how had his dearest accomplice, his most cherished friend, been unforgiving to his subjects? He would never consider himself sheltered, but this was something quite unheard of in his kingdom.

“I know you do not believe me, but this is the only explanation I can offer.” You paused, accepting your fate. “Untie me already so you can send me to prison.”

You felt something swirl beneath the boy’s brown eyes, irises sparkling with wonderment. His voice was soft, if not lost within his own thoughts.

“I believe you, jackal,” he said. With a final step towards you, he left little distance between the two of you, eyes at level with yours as you hung from the tree. “But I cannot be satisfied with it.”

Another blink, taken aback by his declaration. “Well...well, what am I supposed to do about it?”

Shocking you further, he curled a little smile upon his lips. “Well,” he started, and as the smile began to widen further, he knew just what to do.

No, he was certainly not satisfied with her accepted hatred.

“We can start by changing that.”

It was your turn for your pupils to dilate. Gods above. This boy seems one chop away from a stump.

“What do you mean?” you demanded, but the boy was already turning on his heel, looking to the surroundings. He fell to his knees, feeling the ground beneath him with his hands. “Your Highness, what are you doing?!”

He did not deem to answer your question, only counter it with his own. “Do you have a horse nearby?”

You looked at him, surprised he figured it out by merely touching the grass. “Yes, but…”

It seemed that he did not need to hear any more, as he brought a hand out, fingers stretching. A tendril of green power burst from his palm, snaking through the dark air beyond your peripheral vision. The Prince was focused on his conjury, and you wondered what in Terrae he was trying to do.

Then, you heard a distant neighing, and found Aurum following the green trail of his magic, eyes glowing slightly.

You tried to escape the tight cage of the vines. “Gods, what are you doing with my horse?!” you exclaimed. “She hates strangers!”

The magic disappeared, along with the glow in her eyes. You could tell she was confused at her surroundings, about to raise her hind legs at the boy who spelled her. “She’ll kill you!” you warned, bracing yourself to witness the death of a prince.

It was then Beomgyu stepped towards the horse, gaze sparkling with kindness.

His hand touched Aurum’s face.

With no small amount of shock, you watched as the boy whispered to your horse, stroking her muzzle. You had never seen her be so friendly to any human she’s made contact with — by Terrae, she even deigned to show attitude to you, who had fed and groomed her since she was a mere pony. How was she sweetening up to someone she had just seen?

Maybe she’s still under a spell, you thought with malice, but then a more honest thought came to mind, and it only made you angrier.

Or perhaps animals can be just as enchanted with him as humans can.

“What are you talking to her for?” you interrupted them, letting out an aggravated groan as the cocoon engulfed you tighter. “You’re sharing words with her as if she’d spread them!”

Beomgyu slid his eyes upward to you. “I was just asking Aurum if she’d like to have an apple.”

“No, I’ll give her one myself—” you tried to say, but then stopped short. “Wait. How do you know her name?”

He looked at you as if you had asked the most ridiculous question. “Because she just told me.”

You stopped struggling in the cocoon. “What did you just say? Aurum told you?”

Hands never ceasing his comforting upon the horse, he raised a quizzical brow. “Pardon me, jackal, but do you mean to tell me that you...you cannot talk to animals?”

Maybe you were not wrong to think the heir of the Earth Kingdom absolutely crazy.

He gestured to the world around you both. “Can you not sense each and every creature nearby? Can you not hear their heartbeats, in sync to their purrs and murmurs?

“Can you not hear the very trees breathe around you?”

You did not know what to say. Perhaps you did not understand his words, what he really meant by a tree breathing. Was that even possible? You thought it unimaginable.

So you offered him the only thing that remained in your mind.

“I have never felt these things.”

The hand upon Aurum’s nuzzle paused, unable to accept the statement which you offered him.

His suspicions were confirmed. Your hatred of nature and all the beings which it birthed had rid you of your powers.

He had seen this before — lost souls who had done grave wrongdoings to the earth, and as a consequence, their very instincts were snatched, right down to the basics. There was no shortage of Lumberjackals in the palace dungeons, and upon closer inspection, he saw that these woodcutters felt no connection to their surroundings. It broke his heart seeing the lack of attachment, the lack of desire for exploration and yearning for their powers, but he knew it could not be helped.

Whoever crosses nature would not be forgiven.

Still, when he inspected the confused, tired gaze of yours, searching him for any suspected lunacy, he just knew that he could not toss you in another old cell. This plan he had in mind could not occur through rotting in one place for the rest of your life.

“Worry not then, jackal.” He raised his hand, magic blooming from his palm. “I am going to change that.”

Whispering to your horse, he listened for a soft neigh before heaving atop her back, hissing at the reins and other controls tying her down. You watched with slight fear. “W-wait a minute,” you started, trying to squeeze out of the vines, but with no luck. “You’re not going to just leave me here, are you?”

Patting Aurum’s mane, he voiced out calmly, “I wish with my whole heart, but then my plan will not work.”

You pursed your lips, watching his eyes sparkle with mischief. “If you were not a prince, I would have cursed you.”

With a flick of his hand, a rush of magic travelled to your cocoon; you felt yourself turning on your front, hovering you upright as the power gravitated you back on the ground, loosening the vines.

“Not like that has stopped you before,” he merely countered as he observed you shrug off weeds in slight humiliation. “Now get on. We have somewhere to be.”

He waited a moment, sighing when you would not oblige. “Is something the matter?”

You wanted to say yes — gods, you wanted to scream at him to get off Aurum, leave you alone and let you cut trees in peace, but of course, that would be an impossible route to take. You still had no inkling of why the Prince of your kingdom was having mercy on you, and you would be quite the fool to exploit it foolishly.

With gritted teeth, you kept your complaints behind your tongue as you brought your foot on the stirrup, heaving upwards as you brought your leg to the other side, settling upon the horse. “Now,” Beomgyu began, looking over his shoulder. “There is no need to be shy. You may put your hands around me as the horse goes fast—”

“I shall be completely fine, thank you,” you interrupted him, brows furrowed. What was this prince even doing? You wondered whether he was a fraud. With that power you witnessed, though, you highly doubted it.

And his features. There is no way a commoner could possess such enchanting beauty.

Flustered, you soured even further.

“Are you ready, jackal?”

You grunted out a yes, which was enough for the boy to command Aurum to start.

The horse, against your expectation, began galloping much faster, and with a yelp you were nearly sent flying out of the seat. Your hands, on instinct, wrapped around Beomgyu’s waist, and when you realised what you had done you cursed yourself for obliging him.

You could almost hear his grin. “I told you!” he exclaimed over the noise of hooves clattering against the rocky mud.

If only you could slap the heirs of kingdoms. “Just take me where you have in mind!” you barked back. “I need to be back to Metallum at dawn.”

“That will be just enough!”

The horse swept past more trees, animals scurrying from your path as the moon lit the dim forest path. You held onto the prince for dear life, refusing to acknowledge the hard surface beneath his silk, his ethereal warmth radiating onto you.

“Hey, jackal?”

A sigh. “Yes?”

“Your horse’s name.” A pause. “Aurum.”

You looked to the trees whooshing past your vision. “What of it?”

Beomgyu whispered for the animal to slow down, scanning his surroundings for his destination. “’Gold’. A very ingenious name.”

He glanced at your irritated face, and smiled. “My mare is called Argenti.”

Your mouth parted at the little revelation.

Argenti. Silver.

Before you could say more on the matter, the boy stopped the horse, cooing at her and praising her for helping him. Swinging his leg over, he jumped off the horse gracefully. He fixed his flower crown before turning to face you, falling rather awkwardly on the grass.

A small laugh escaping him, you daggered him with your gaze as you stepped beside him, a hand on Aurum. Your stare lingered as he took a circle turn of the surroundings, moon almost winking at him as it journeyed in the blanket of night. After a while, Beomgyu pointed to the tree nearby you, stepping past you to palm its trunk. “Here we go.”

Fingers stretching, magic spluttered as it swirled into the thick expanse of the leaves, nearly covering the sky with their excess. The matter squeezed through, and brought out the hidden vines, tumbling down till they reached the roots. Grabbing onto the plants, the prince turned his head towards you, an offer in his eyes.

You hated how you understood exactly what he meant. “I am not going up with you,” you retorted.

“It’s my arms or the dungeon.”

Gulping, you swallowed down your irritation for him. Taking a step towards him, you maintained a safe distance as you made sure he was aware of your distaste. “Just get us up already.” Damn the gods for making him so aggravatingly beautiful, you thought shamelessly as you looked at him. “Your Highness.”

Perhaps he knew, for the little smile was back, wrapping his arm around your waist, and pulling you close. “That’s more like it,” he murmured out before willing his magic into motion.

Your breathing hitched as you were pulled rapidly upward by the vines, breaking through the surface of the leaves. You closed your eyes, feeling the scraping of the branches against your clothes until you felt yourself still, listening only to the deep breaths of the prince beside you. His hand was still snaked at your side.

“Open your eyes, jackal.”

Somehow, on instinct, you obliged.

And widened them further.

You were in another world entirely — the branches expanded beyond your vision, intertwining with the others from different trees, so intricately interlinked beneath your feet that they created a floor. Upon this branching surface there was a little room, decorated with every unusual object that one could identify. Beside the bed, interwoven by these branches, you saw an abundance of flowers and leaves, an lamp of glowing fireflies resting in the corner, and a thousand other items which needed further explanation.

Judging by the awe on your face, the boy answered you, heading to the small cabinet where everything was placed. “A collection of gadgets,” he began, using his magic to separate every object. “That I’ve bought or been gifted since my princedom.” He took out a few unrecognisable things and strolled to the wardrobe, made from the same intertwining branches, and opened the doors, rummaging through.

“What are you even looking for?” you asked, but were dutifully ignored as he kept searching. You admired the intricate scenery, the plush excess of leaves beneath your shoes, shielding you and the prince nearby.

You heard him let out a satisfied ah! as he closed the doors shut. He walked over to you, showing you the rather odd object — it was an unusually large ice cube, miniscule snowflakes etched onto its every side as it orbited slowly in Beomgyu’s hand.

Your curious gaze upon the gadget had him into explanation. “A present from the Ice Prince,” he said, admiring the cold gift in his palms. “It provides an infinite water supply, so is incredibly useful for long journeys.”

“Taehyun, is he not called?” You shivered at the thought. “I am shocked to think he is capable of such small kindnesses.”

Beomgyu slid his eyes to yours. “Taehyun is not the man that his subjects have painted him to be.” His irises swirled in an indecipherable emotion. “Sometimes, one cannot judge the character of another simply based on rumour alone. Only with having conversation can one truly have an honest opinion.”

A small part of you wondered if he truly meant that for Taehyun, or to you, another villain in the Earth Kingdom’s millennia-old tale. Whatever it may be, you looked away, wondering when you’d be able to leave the prince’s presence.

“Right,” you heard him say, pocketing the other unknown object in his breast pocket of his gown. “Let us go on ground once more.”

The boy was about to tug on the vines again when he was interrupted by a most unusual sound.

Well, not unusual, considering you were situated in a tree house, but the noise was so shrill you instantly looked down to its origin.

Before you was a little squirrel, cheeks puffed as its little hands perched on its sides. Its soft tail moved rapidly behind its body, indicating irritation.

Its small, black eyes were fixated upon the boy beside you. Letting out yet another squeak, you saw Beomgyu sigh out in exasperation, as if he had just remembered an important matter.

“Oh gods, I do apologise!” He exclaimed, falling to his knees as he held his free hand out, the other holding the hovering ice cube still. “I’m afraid I cannot feed you now, but would you be able to wait?”

The squirrel let out another squeak, and this time the prince flinched. You gawked at the scene — so not only can he command the trees, but he could talk to animals?

What can this boy not do?

“Ji, I am sorry!” Fishing out an acorn from his breast pocket, he offered it before him. “I have one, if it helps! I promise to feed you properly after I am done with a certain task.”

Even so, the animal seemed much unimpressed. It then turned its little head to you, and you could have sworn that its eyes judged your very soul.

It squeaked some more, and this time Beomgyu widened his eyes, cheeks flushing. “By Mother Nature, no!” He bellowed out, panicked eyes fleeting towards you. “No, I just met her today.”

“Are you talking about me?” You asked, raising a brow. The squirrel then made another sound, one you could not decipher but, judging from the boy’s reaction, could definitely take a wild guess. “By gods, is this creature mocking me?”

You were rewarded with further squeaking, but was instantly silenced by Beomgyu. “Ji, no! I cannot have you being sarcastic tonight. Save your grievances for tomorrow morning!”

And as the prince scooped the squirrel in his hand, he walked over to the bed, settling it on the sheets. “Stay here. I will be back.”

There was sure to be complaints, but the boy kept sending looks of apology as he stepped back to the edge of the exit, tugging on the vines. “Deeply sorry for Jisung’s behaviour,” he said, swirling the cube slowly. “He is grumpier tonight as I have not fed him this evening.”

“A pet squirrel, huh?” You interrogated, looking down to the grass below. “And one you can talk to? Is that how you could communicate with Aurum?”

Nodding, the prince held his arm out. “Are we ready?”

You hurrying my shook your head. “Not again!” You crossed your arms. “I’ll slide down myself. Without your help.”

Shrugging, the boy held on tighter to the vine. “Your wish, jackal,” he said, and jumped down. Perking up, you squatted down to see him descend smoothly down the tree, landing perfectly on the grass.

Grabbing onto the plant, you looked back to the grumpy pet, stuffing the acorn in his mouth.

He then stuck his tongue out, and you gasped at the audacity. “Rude!” You shouted, but we’re only answered with shrill squeaking. Ignoring the creature, you took the vine by both hands, and followed suit.

Your descent was much less graceful, landing instead on your backside. You were met with the huffed laughter of the prince, and you forced down the urge to beat him with his stupid flower crown. Or perhaps tie these vines around his neck and strangle him.

No, that would only result in him using his silly magic. Awful, attractive bastard.

“What are we doing now, Highness?” You wondered out loud, rubbing your sore backside. “Do tell me there is some use of your rather odd ice cube.”

Beomgyu, after strolling further into the woods, slowed himself for you to catch up. “There is some use, unfortunately for you.” He waved you over, stepping past the wild bushes in his path. “Follow me, jackal!” he called out to you.

Grudgingly, you did as he asked, hugging yourself from the cold breeze of the midnight, wondering where in Terrae he was trying to take you. The trees towered over you like intimidating strangers — if the prince spoke true, then you wouldtuly be unwelcome.

You were surrounded by this coercion until the forest opened up to an open grassland, encircled by the nature which looked down at you. Beomgyu turned to you, bringing out a few seeds from his trouser pockets and standing right in the middle of the circle.

“There you are,” he said as you stepped beside him. He glanced at the moon, measuring the amount of time he had left.

“What are you going to do?” you asked him, still clueless regarding the whole situation. Why has he not sent you to the dungeons already?

His eyes travelled to your face. With a half-soft scoff, he held out his hand, the seeds now in perfect view. “It is not what I’m going to do,” he began. “It is what you are going to do.”

The confusion grew within you. “What do you mean?” you tried to clarify. “What am I to do with these seeds?”

Beomgyu’s eyes promised answers. “Bring out your hand, jackal.”

You did as you were told, holding out your hand as he put the seeds in your palm, fingers barely brushing against your skin. He then descended, knees upon the grass as he patted to the space beside you. “Come, sit.”

Pursing your lips in thought, you knelt before the grass, seeds in your enclosed fist as your gaze never strayed from the boy. “Your Highness—”

Magic oozing from his fingers interrupted your demand, slipping into the earth. Slowly, but surely, a small hole was separated by the green matter, dirt being shovelled to create a dip in the grassland.

Once he ceased his conjuring, he jerked his head towards the new opening. “Place the seeds in the hole,” he instructed. “Gently now! Treat them with the utmost care.”

Grumbling in response, you leaned forward as you gingerly put each seed at the corners of the muddy dip, noticing a small spark with each placement of the grain. It was a bizarre feeling, but assumed it normal in the ways of gardening as you inserted the dirt over them, covering them fully.

You peered at the prince then, who brought out the large ice cube. Turning it rapidly, treacle of water dripped down to the ground, moistening the earth and feeding the seeds of its necessities. Putting the gadget back in his storage belt, he then returned his hand upon the damp mound, closing his eyes in a fixated peace. More magic swirled from his hands, but this time it encircled not only the place where you had placed the seeds, but you, all of you, engulfing you in its otherworldly warmth.

“Your Highness?” You whispered out, but he was murmuring, murmuring words you could not comprehend, words which felt like you were not meant to hear. His curls were being lifted slightly with the tendrils of his power, but he stayed rooted to his spot, carrying on with what you feared was a grotesque ritual.

You, too, became still when you felt fingers curl around your hand.

On instinct you looked at him, eyes widening — you should have expected his hand to radiate some form of heat, considering this boy had such an unusual glow about him, but this…

Despite the soft chaos around the two of you, the touch was oddly comforting.

His hand, dragging you out of your thoughts, led yours to the place you sowed the little grains of life, and spread apart your fingers till they covered nearly the entire, dug up earth. More matter escaped from his fingers, shooting further warmth upon the back of your hand, and travelling up to your heart.

“Close your eyes, jackal,” you heard him chant from his cocoon of magic. “I need you to see from within.”

“See what?!” You beseeched, but his fingers held onto you a little tighter, and, as if he commanded your very body, had your eyelids descend shut, cornering you into the chambers of your mind.

See from within.

What could you see?

Darkness. Eternal darkness, and rusted iron, spilled mercury, and all the grim faces of the people who wanted to decimate the very place you knelt in.

I cannot see! You screamed in your mind, because in the whirlwind of his power you felt alone, trapped in your own mind, trying to join in on a ritual which would cursed the likes of you.

But in reality, you were not alone.

No, not when you felt something foreign in your body.

You swore you stopped breathing.

Your fingers felt squeezed by another, but was ignored because you could see a whole other heartbeat which was not your own.

A familiar voice entered your mind.

“Do you see it?”

The prince’s voice; the soft, almost desperate inquiry, which you could not help but answer.

“Yes...yes, by Terrae, I do see it.”

And perhaps he said some more, but you were not listening to his words. His speech seemed a little insignificant to the little heartbeat — it was as faint as the scent of departure, delicate as a snowflake, and as real as yourself, the prince, and the neverending forest.

When you tried to lift your hand, Beomgyu’s fingers halted you still. You could not believe that you did not mind it. “Whose...whose is it, your Highness?”

You were positive that he did not hear you with the lack of volume you let slide from your tongue. However, he answered your question, almost feeling the joy radiating from his response.

“The seeds.”

Shocked, you opened your eyes, and found the Prince of Earth staring at you with an elevated joy. He gestured to observe your creation, and when your eyes fell upon the sliver of a stem which broke through the earth, between the spaces of your fingers, you wondered whether this was all a dream.

You could not help the curse which escaped you. The boy beside you spluttered into laughter, and you turned to see his face radiating with elation. The heartbeat, the one which you thought was under your control, proved you wrong as it skipped its beat along to his laughs.

“Wh-what are you laughing at?” You demanded, but you were unable to execute it with the anger you wish you held for him. He offered you a honeypot of smiles.

“You’ve brought life to the forest, sweet jackal.”

The little plant shivered in response, along with your own hairs at the back of your neck, which stood at his announcement. Its faint heartbeat grew louder, as well as your own in your ears.

“Do you feel it now?” he whispered, leaning ever so close as he looked to the forest around you. “Do you feel the trees breathing in your presence?”

Unfortunately, although you could sense your plant’s essence, the heartbeats of every tree in the forest were still unheard. You shook your head no, but that did not wipe the grin off his face.

“We have time,” he reassured you. “Just know that Mother Nature has hope for you still.”

He took your hand, putting another upon the back as he brought you a different kind of warmth. “I have hope for you.”

You parted your mouth, unaccustomed to the contact, the kindness...to all that he represented.

His eyes locked with yours, and although he had spared you the wrath of his palace dungeons, you feared whether you could escape the imprisonment of his gaze.

There was no doubt in your mind as you let yourself be arrested into his stare — the Prince of the Earth was not going to haunt just a single night.

FRATERNISING WITH THE HEIR OF REGNA TERRAE WOULD BE THE DEATH OF YOU.

Of course, that was not the last time you saw him — you had become something of a personal project to him, a sin which must be reversed. Almost every night after the fateful encounter, you snuck out from the fences of the Metallum villages, barely evading the suspicious eyes of the Kim brothers, and met with him under his treehouse.

You did not know why you endeavoured so ardently in seeing him. It was not like he had become any less irritable with his amused grins and unmatched power, but there was something about him which you could not fend off.

In a way, he made you believe you were worth more than simple woodcutting, selling oaks in the market, the empty promises of revenge against the Natural Kingdom.

Somehow, he made you realise that, maybe, you truly were deserving of a more memorable path.

These very thoughts accompanied you as the sun began to set, pulling your hood over your head as you swept past the familiar trees, reining in the urge to greet every woodland creature which scurried past you. The past few weeks, after many misunderstood arguments with the Prince’s pet squirrel, you learned the slight quirks which the animal possessed, his every movement and what it would signify. You had Beomgyu to thank once again, but each time you wished to do so, he would say the same, hair-rising reassurance.

“Fret not, sweet jackal. It is a pleasure to show you the wonders of nature.”

Sweet jackal. The endearment made you so flustered, and that aggravated you to the greatest extent. You had already shared your name with the boy, but he insisted on calling you this name, as if the two of you had already established an intimacy from decades before.

The very thought had your actual heartbeat racing.

You made sure to completely dismiss this foolery as you found the special opening of the grassland in sight, the glowing figure waving you over. A small smile involuntarily curled at your lips, hurrying closer till you fully saw Prince Beomgyu’s face clearly in the setting sun.

“You have arrived much earlier this evening,” he said in a way of greeting, fixing his flower crown as his squirrel played with the petals. “I would not say I’m displeased.”

On your part, you certainly were not either — he bore more finery than usual, his normal green gown threaded with gold swirls at the hems, small vines tied around his ears as natural jewellery. His hair was sprinkled with petals, a trait Jisung adored as he settled in the nest of his locks. His hands, too, were intertwined with dark vines, swirls wrapped around his fingers like extended rings.

By the gods, he truly was an exquisite being.

He noticed your silence, raising a groomed brow. “Is something the matter?” he asked, but when he saw your eyes dart to anywhere but his own, he immediately understood. You just managed to catch a satisfied quirk of his lips before he turned his attention to your plant.

Following his trail, you brightened up to see your creation in full bloom — bright red poppies, stark against the pool of grass, stood as they swayed to the evening breeze. You knelt down to observe them closer, and felt a peculiar sense of pride at sensing their clear heartbeat harmonising with yours.

“They’re my favourite flower,” the boy said behind you. “I have always adored how they stand out amongst all the others.”

Watching the poppies almost dance in the cool air, you stood upwards once again. “Then why do you not wear them?” you asked out of curiosity.

“Because my parents do not like me wearing them.” He gestured to the flower crown, at risk of being torn up by Jisung. “They say the colour is too harsh.”

He clicked his tongue in irritation. “At least they could have spared me on my birthday.”

You were about to comment on his parents when those words escaped his mouth. Your own mouth parted in surprise. “Your birthday is today?”

The prince mocked being stabbed in the chest, nearly sending the squirrel to the trees. Taking Jisung from his hair, he propped him on his shoulder. “You have truly wounded me, ____!” he whined. “All this time together, and you had no inkling?”

Although he was only jesting, it only embarrassed you further. “I truly am sorry, your Highness!” you apologised, clasping your hands together. “If I had known, I would have made you a present.”

“Oh?” He took a step towards you. His eyes danced in mirth. “And what would you have made me?”

That seemed to rob you of your speech. “Well, um…” you trailed off, searching your now useless mind of any decent idea for a gift, but he waved off your fluster, chuckling.

“It is no problem, dear jackal,” he said, looking at the red flowers once more. “Seeing your poppies in full growth is a gift to me anyway.”

You wished he had not said that; glancing at them now, you could only hear his fascination within the petals.

There he was again — staining your every entity of his remnants. How much more till he stains your very soul?

Jisung’s irritated squeak brought you back to the forest. You tried not to murder the damned creature as you muttered out, “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Beomgyu groaned out. “I shan’t have you calling me that hideous title all the time.” He put a hand to his chest. “Have we not reached first name basis?”

Despite your surprise, you offered him a scoff. “Jackal is not my first name,” you jeered. “And please. You’re the prince of our land. Anyone who catches me being informal with you will surely have my head.”

“I would never let them,” he merely said. “Not before I show you one last part of the forest.”

You quirked a quizzical brow. “I think you’ve shown me half your kingdom by now.”

“But this is...quite different.”

The boy stepped closer to you, reaching out his hand. You found yourself warming up as he enveloped it with yours, a gesture so small yet so triggering to your nerves.

“Follow me, ____.”

With the tug of his fingers, you were led out of the grasslands and back into the jungles of Regna Terrae, catching familiar sights of ancient mahoganies and birches, different variations of trees all grouped together.

As the moon began to ascend, your anxiety increased. His hand worked wonders for your skin, but at the back of your mind, you could not shake off the image of the Kim brothers wondering where you had gone so long.

Especially Namjoon. Seokjin and Taehyung may have been much simpler in the brain, but the leader of the trio bore his suspicions of your whereabouts. He always knew you were never enthusiastic of your occupation as a Lumberjackal, so your sudden interest to roam the woodlands for hours into the night certainly had his ears perking. Of course, you always made sure to know that you were going without being followed, but in the end, the three brothers were quite unpredictable.

You just hoped that whatever the prince had to show you, it would be seen quick enough to leave.

The density of the forest began to increase, and you soon began to doubt whether you had been to this part of the Kingdom before. It was then Beomgyu’s hands flowed with magic, and completely changed the scenery. The ancient trees, trunks as wide and thick as horses began to move apart to make way for him and you, the squirrel holding onto his shoulder tightly as it too squeaked in surprise. Your own eyes widened as each element of nature bent to his will, creating an easier path for his boots to step onto.

It was clearly a sight for admiration. These few weeks you had begun to realise the power of the earth, and how rich and true its roots lay. You felt the faint hum of their essences as you rushed past them, hand still clasped with his, and you dipped your head in thanks to the trees, hoping that one day you would hear them sing welcomes to you.

Slowing down, the group was barred by the curtain of thick vines, hiding you from the world behind. “I have never seen this before,” you wondered out loud, but when Beomgyu let go of your hand, and stepped forward, hands stretched out, your curiosity reigned further.

Jisung quickly scurried from his shoulder, ending up on the muddied path as he watched with black eyes of the phenomenon about to occur. You made to make fun of the squirrel when the prince let out an aggravated moan, hurling your head to his direction.

His heavenly voice chanted in a millennia old language, huge power emitting from his finger tips and swirling to the tumbling vines of the entrance. You could see the sweat beading down his forehead at the sheer effort it took, but he stayed rooted, sending surges of green matter to the cold nature.

Slowly, the curtain began to withdraw. Blinding light cut through, and when the boy let out a roar, pushing the whole family of vines apart you hid your head from the white bursting through.

There was a deathly silence for a singular moment.

You heard his ragged breathing, lasting for ten seconds before it turned into relieved, panted chuckling.

Bringing your hand away from your face, you looked to see beyond the curtain.

Your very breath was snatched from your lungs.

Before you was the most enchanting deity of nature you had ever seen in your existence — it was a glowing white tree, trunk as wide as the two of you twice over, etched with milky-coloured wrinkles that contained sparkles of ancient magic. The leaves, much like finely cut diamonds, protruded from every branch which stretched towards every corner the eye could see. The diamonds were infinite, shining from the gentle light of the moon.

Even though you had never seen it before, you knew exactly what it was.

“The Tree of Life.”

Your gaze dared to break away to see the prince for a second, whose own breathing seemed to have halted. Sensing your stare, he looked back at you, his face half glowing from the deity’s light.

“I...I thought it did not—” you tried to say, but of course you could not when it was right there before you, as if it had been waiting to be found all its life.

“Exist?” He took a step forward. “Every myth is borne from truth after all.”

Indeed it was — you had learned of the Tree of Life when you were a mere girl, listening to fairy tales before being told to sleep. This Tree could not be seen by the common man, and legend foretold that there lived an otherworldly creature inside its trunk. Evidently, no one could prove this theory, but its mystery had what inspired so many people, metal and earthbenders alike, to find it, for opposing reasons.

You knew why Namjoon wanted to find it — for the amount of gold a singular leaf could bring him. Now, having accused him of believing in fantasies, you almost felt ashamed for having ridiculed his searches.

“Come.”

You perked up at the Prince’s voice.

“You must get a closer look.”

Picking up the pace of your feet, you fell into step beside him as the two of you started towards the legend come to life. The closer you approached the more enchanting it looked — the leaves glistened further, as if greeting you with their shine.

Jisung scurried between you both, his little head never straying from the Tree. It let out an awed squeak, and Beomgyu hummed in agreement.

“Have you ever seen anything like it?”

You shook your head, transfixed. “Never,” you responded, feeling the very earth shift beneath your feet.

If nothing else convinced you of the power of nature, then the existence of this deity certainly did.

You stepped past the boy, the grass hushed beneath your feet as you stretched out your hand. When your fingers touched the milky bark your breath shuddered out of you. It was simply unreal. The touch was surprisingly soft, so unlike the normal trees, and with each crack of the bark there was ancient writing inscripted within. With further shock you felt a very distant heartbeat as the fingers ran along the words, faint yet powerful.

By the gods.

“Where have you been hiding all this time?” you whispered to the Tree, tracing the aged trunk. “Your Highness, is everything about the legend true?”

There was no response — you figured he was still star-struck, and you continued to admire the most beautiful force you had ever seen.

It was not until you heard Jisung’s shrill squeak that you turned around.

You felt your soul leave your body.

Because there he was, the one man you dreaded to see. The one man who held Beomgyu’s unconscious body in his hands as he dropped him upon the grass. You noticed the little dart on the side of his neck, and all the blood in your body was drained.

Kim Namjoon.

His answering smirk was more a flash of teeth. “Do you believe me now, ____?”

You backed up against the Tree, eyes darting to the prince. “What did you do to him?” you asked instead, voice void of any emotion.

“That does not matter,” he dismissed. “But of course, it would matter to you now that you’ve attached yourself to him.”

He took a step forward, his ebony machete glinting in the light of the phenomenon behind you. “Stand aside, girl. It is time to make our fortunes.”

On instinct, you stretched a hand out. “I cannot.”

The man was taken aback by your hesitance. “Whatever the gods do you mean?”

Gulping, you tried to steel your will, inhaling slowly. “I cannot let you do it, Namjoon.” Your eyes glanced at the still prince before glaring at the perpetrator. “You won’t get a single branch of the Tree.”

A harsh laugh escaped him, taking a step forward. “Oh, and you’re going to stop me?”

You brought out your own sword — the one which you promised to use on Beomgyu — and raised it toward him. “Do not come any further,” you warned.

It seemed the man was not not going to compromise.

Not when he swung his machete, well on his way to hack you to pieces.

You quickly brought your weapon upon you to deflect his aim, sending him forward, and away from the Tree.

He can try and hurt the Tree of Life.

Easily gaining step, Namjoon mustered his power, ebony sharpening from his fingers as he clashed against you, lightening-fast strikes of his machete having you strained. You never doubted the bastard’s swordsmanship — he was skilled enough to be a general in the King’s royal army.

A shame he chose his fighting for a darker purpose.

You tried to slice the free space of his abdomen, but the man was sharp, quickly dodging as he swerved to the side, another clash of weapons ringing around the forest.

“You cannot beat me, ____!” He roared, one hit after the other, sending you further back.

Taking every hit, you stumbled, gaining your step yet staggering once again with his sword. After all, you could not outsmart the master; he was the man who taught you to fight.

Even so, you refused to give up. “I can die trying!” You seethed as he brought his strength down. His weapon, screeching against your own, slowly descended, closer and closer to your neck.

A harsh groan escaping, you mustered all your strength into sending his machete aside, barely a spare second in your name before you whirled to your left, missing the power blow.

“All this for a bloody tree!” He screeched, thundering towards you. “We would have been rich, you fool!”

Another mighty hit, and you were sent back, averting his strikes with your sword. Because you were so exhausted, your magic would not burst from your hands, adding more power to your weapon. It was your melee strength, nearly all gone, and your nimble feet.

“What is all this for?!” He demanded, slicing at your cloak, cutting through the fabric of your trousers. The clash of weapons continued, faster and faster. “What is worth more than all the riches of the Kingdom?!”

Amidst the brawl, your eyes slipped to the figure before you. Distant, yet instantly recognisable with his eyes closed, and mouth parted, flower crown scattered around his head. Jisung, too, laid injured beside him, watching your fight with fear in his little eyes.

What is all this for?

You only had one person in mind.

But that was not enough.

No, not when that sliver of a second gave Namjoon enough time to strike you, sending his machete straight into your stomach.

A shuddered gasp escaped you as the machete entered through — a burst of pain shot through your entire body, echoing the fatality of your situation. Tears stung your eyes as you dropped your sword, looking at your opponent in the eyes.

The Leader of the Lumberjackals showed no mercy as he yanked out his weapon.

A moan rushed past your lips as you fell to your knees, gripping your blood-gushing stomach. Namjoon gazed down at you with no remorse at all. “Perhaps he was not enough,” he said, cold as metal.

He stepped past you, focusing on the glistening Tree of Life, its white treasures still exalted in the moonlight. Your body, completely spent, could not hold you upright, falling straight into the grass. Straining, you cried out as you stretched your hand out in vain efforts to stop him, but it was simply no use.

You had been defeated.

And now, after witnessing the most perfect element of nature you had ever seen, you were to watch it be decimated.

This is how it ended. You, fumbling for your last breath, your prince nearby and probably dead.

Namjoon raked his eyes over the Tree, grinning wildly. “Oh, you are going to make me the richest man in the Kingdom,” he declared, raising his machete till it hovered just before the bottom of the trunk.

He elevated his voice so you could hear. “Enjoy watching me destroy what you sacrificed yourself for!”

Closing your eyes, you were about to let oblivion take over.

You awaited the sound of his weapon against the bark.

What you heard was something completely different.

An explosion filled your ears as white light, even more blinding than the one before, had you squeezing your eyes further shut. You made out the screams of your once leader as it was drowned out by the eruption, and you tried to see what had so suddenly occurred, only to be greeted with more brazen lights.

What...what was going on?

When the deafening noise quietened, you picked up on the soft crunch of grass, edging closer and closer to you. A compelling force was felt against your dying soul, and you wondered if the Reaper had finally come to take you.

When you felt air-light hands on your abdomen, you did not expect death to be so warm.

Slowly, dragging open your eyes, you prepared yourself to be taken to the afterlife.

What you saw instead was something else entirely.

Something which made even the Tree of Life as a mediocre enchantment.

Looking over you was not human — not with the glowing, shimmering skin, sparkles and shine radiating off its golden, liquid body. Her eyes were white with the same light you had seen twice this evening, fluid locks of hair flowing all around her. Her lips offered a radiant smile, already bringing some life back into you, and her whole body, although similar to yours, was free of attire, exuding the light of a star.

Perhaps you truly were dead.

The being, however, proved you wrong with her words.

“Brave human,” she began, and her velvet voice had you clutching your stomach. “I saw what you did to defend me.”

You tried to open your mouth to tell her that you defended the Tree, but then your eyes dilated at the revelation.

The legend foretold that there lived an otherworldly creature inside its trunk.

But this...this god-like creature was not just a mere girl.

“You sacrificed yourself for my Tree,” she stated, voice echoing across the woodlands. “For my forest, my every creation, despite being an enemy of mine in the past.

“You deserve a token of my gratitude.”

Her voice nearly put you to sleep with the way it lulled in the midnight air. You wondered in your tired mind what she could offer you now that you were breathing your last breath.

Then, you felt her hands upon your stomach.

A loud groan escaped your lips as the torn flesh began to stitch on its own accord, courtesy of the magic which poured from the sublime being. Your whole body worked to heal you, reversing the damage done by your once leader, whose whereabouts you had no inkling of.

The pain, which once tore at every nerve within you, began to fade away, and you opened your eyes further after gaining the strength, fully taking in the earthly spirit which had restored you.

You parted your mouth, voice parched as you rasped out, “I...Beomgyu…”

A heavenly smile curled at her lips. “The prince is fine, soldier. It would take more than a dart to eliminate the heir of the Earth.”

A relieved breath left your lips. You then looked to the being, putting your hands above hers. “I am not who I was,” you whispered.

Mother Nature smiled down at you, and you knew then and there that perhaps the world is not so cruel after all.

“I know, brave human.”

The luminous creature ascended to her feet, letting go of your hands. She dipped her head in acknowledgment, and turned on her heel. Struggling to your side, you watched as the otherworldly figure stepped up to the Tree of Life, looking at you one last time.

Raising a hand to her chin, she blew some magic towards your way, bathing you in sparkles. With a final beam, she slipped into the tree, enlivening the whole structure till it stood straight once again.

You truly could not believe what you saw.

Feeling the glimmer dancing on your skin, however, you knew this was not a figment of your imagination.

Mother Nature saved you from death.

Truly, utterly, ethereal.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard soft coughing nearby, and you heaved upward at the sound, your strength all present.

Beomgyu.

Upon your feet, you rushed to where he lay, stumbling from the hurrying as you fell to your knees, hands clinging onto his face. Jisung, his injuries healed from the celestial visit, scurried upon his owner’s chest, waiting for him to awaken.

“Beomgyu?” You murmured out, fingers stroking the soft planes of his cheeks. “Beomgyu, damn you, open your eyes!”

Tilting his face till it faced you, you watched as the prince’s eyes fluttered open, tired and wide and absolutely beautiful.

A trembling breath gasped out of you. “What…” he grated out, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. “What just...happened?”

You willed the tears in as you caressed his face. “The legend was true.”

His confused gaze had you continuing. “Beomgyu, I saw the celestial creature when I was dying, and she saved me. It was true, Beomgyu, she healed me with her hands and—”

Your rambling ceased when the boy brought his fingers to your face. Warmth flooded your cheeks, and not because of how hot his hands were.

His smile could have easily beaten Mother Nature’s.

“You called me Beomgyu.”

He did not let you respond as he brought your face down to his, tilting it slightly as he pressed his lips against yours, enveloping you in a sweet kiss.

His mouth was warm, just like him, soft and plush, rendering you helpless over him. Your shock was quite prevalent, but you let the affection take over as you kissed him back, hands carding in his curls. He moved against your lips as his fingers stroked down to your jaw, savouring every feathered touch.

When he broke away, his breathing was ragged, cheeks flushed. He saw your own dishevelled gaze and chuckled to himself.

“I think this might be the best birthday present I have ever received.”

The Prince of Regna Terrae laughed some more when you refused to meet his eyes.

You were about to counter him when you heard another, completely new voice.

“You both could have done that without me being here.”

Your stare dove to his chest, to the direction of the sound.

Jisung the squirrel glared at you with the entire irritation of the Kingdom. “Oh what? So now you can hear me?!”

A yelp resounded from you. “How are you talking?!” You screeched. “You’re a bloody animal!”

“Oh, thank you so very much for stating the blatantly obvious!” He drawled, and you could not comprehend the sarcasm that just came from a bloody woodland creature.

You peered at Beomgyu, who was just as surprised as you were, despite his entertained features. “____,” he started, sitting up straighter. “Does this mean—”

Getting to your feet, you looked around the forest, the Tree of Life standing proudly.

It was then you sensed the heartbeat.

Not just your own, or the poppies — but of the entirety of the Kingdom.

Faraway, yet still present, it thumped against your chest like an echo of your own heart, a harmonisation of all the trees, bushes, flowers and animals. It was almost enchanting how it slowly thudded within you, and with such welcome.

Like greeting a friend you had not seen for a long time.

When you caught the Prince’s gaze, his entire face lit up.

Before you could say anymore, you were swept into the boy’s arms, engulfing you with a hug of eternal warmth. His voice rang along your soul as he declared to the whole word.

“Nature has accepted you, ____!”

You heard the clicked tongue of Jisung beneath you, and Beomgyu brought you at arm’s length before sticking out his tongue at his pet.

He looked to you once more, and saw the very emotions you dared not let yourself believe in.

“I knew you were capable of change, sweet jackal.”

The tears, this time, refused to be held back any longer.

The boy melted as he swept away each tumbling drop with his fingers, clutching your face.

As you leaned in this time, kissing him breathlessly, you tasted the smile which flourished upon his lips, drinking in your every essence.

You wondered, thinking away as your heart beat faster, whether this was still a dream, a vision which would end the moment you woke up, back in the cold village you once called your home.

When you felt the presence of the celestial being again, looking down from the branches of the Tree of Life, you knew that this was no delusion.

Pulling away, you turned Beomgyu to the glistening, living structure, both of you catching sight of her.

Mother Nature smiled at her heirs.

The both of you knew it in your hearts, simultaneously beating.

The heirs of Regna Terrae would not let her down.

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