#i actually really like the pointing upward elf ears

[oddipop]

tiny fabian seacaster!

[choccy-zefirka]

Living Bodies

Woe! 3K words of body worship with Emmrich and a plus-size Rook, who that had a horrible first time as a teen and internalized her partner's disgust, be upon ye!

Content warning for references to bullying, dubious consent during the aforementioned first time, fatphobia, and also everyone's privates being out among the Necropolis flowers :3 (They are doing it in a cute skeleton-adorned gazebo that came to me in a dream)

Dear Lottie,

I am so terribly sorry you fell sick and missed all the fun! But we did it! We actually did it, all according to plan! Sprung the trap for my "secret admirer"! And our suspicions were correct!

All those gunky little lumps of soap Papa found folded in my laundry — they were put there by the washer girl! That knife ear, the one that looks like a toad! I think her name is Len-something, but who cares? And yes, she made them herself, out of whatever goop she's gathered round the alienage — because she has a """"crush"""" on me! The cheek! As if just because I don't like boys exclusively, I'd ever give the time of day to a walking, talking potato! She isn’t even cute in that scared rabbit way, like elf girls are supposed to be!

She did come to the "date" me and the girls arranged, too, and blathered on and on about how beautiful I am (fact) and how much she likes me (yuck)... Until we had enough and pushed her into the river!!! Oh, I wish you were there with us, it was ab-so-lu-te-ly hilarious!

Say, since you are sat by the window in your chair all day, have you heard any news out on the street? From the paper criers, maybe? I want to know if Len-whatever ended up drowning.

Correspondence between two traders' daughters. 9:40 Dragon

***

Happy now, Sticks?

Did her like you told me to. All the way. What a shitshow. Lardy Lenny is even lardier naked, that's for sure. Felt like sticking my dick into a giant slug. Next time I lose this stupid game, just send me into a shem's mabari kennels with salami for a sword. That will be way less painful.

Don't know how I'll fuck normal girls no. The fat cunt ruined it for me. Think I'll be having nightmares for years after this. Told her that, and she started bawling. Didn't even look funny like she usually does in tears. Just gross.

So yeah. Enjoy, I guess.

Note from an alienage boy to his friend, attached to a crumpled set of girl's underclothes. 9:42 Dragon

***

At first, Lenore is too distracted by turning and flexing her left hand. Her wrist has been getting a little stiff lately: she probably holds her arm at an uncomfortable angle when mixing potions. No surprise, since she is self-taught. Aching joints and sleepy pin pricks are the least of her problems, really! When she was just starting out, on a work bench that was just a half-rotten plank of wood balanced on a rock in the alienage backyards, she'd splash hissing, blistering liquid all over herself, turning her forearms into pale clumps of scar tissue, like cold leftover noodles plastered sadly at the bottom of a bowl.

Maybe if she observes Emmrich more closely during their studies together, she will figure out how to position her arms properly... Ugh. She'll find any excuse to "observe" him, won't she? Well, she's allowed; they are a couple now, outlandish as it sounds!

A couple.

All at once, her mind catches up to what her ears heard after Emmrich, gentle and attentive as always — what has she done to deserve him? — pointed out her stiff wrist.

Finer points of anatomy.

Her eyes dart upwards from her hand, and she gapes across their elegantly arranged tea table. Emmrich smiles, soft yet playful, eyes half-lidded and shining in the wisp light.

There is that side of him, that confidence — decades' worth of it — that sometimes makes her, all flushed and boiling alive in unspoken greed, wish for more than just quick kisses and lingering glances and fingertips resting on knuckles, shoulders, waists, whenever they stand too close. As if all of that was not already a gift far more generous than normally granted from someone like him to someone like her.

It has been a harmless enough indulgence to entertain, she supposes. A guilty pleasure, something titillating to think about in the secret alone hours while she touches herself. Not that she does it too often; bodies like hers aren't really meant for this, she's well aware... But still, that's also something couples are allowed to do, right — imagine each other's faces in place of characters from the Randy Dowager's Gold Collection?

But here and now, with Emmrich looking at her like that, it hits her with the full force of a Venatori blood forge trampling her to the ground. A keen, panicked awareness that this is not the Randy Dowager's Gold Collection. This is real — they are real. Especially her. Too real, too heavy, suddenly suffocating under her own weight, suddenly feeling the scented air of the Memorial Gardens with every pore of her skin, so tangibly, disgustingly physical that it begins to itch.

Most of her is carefully concealed underneath her usual Veil Jumper leathers, but if Emmrich, the real, non-fantasy Emmrich, decides to explore these finer points of anatomy, if he lifts the covers and sees just how much she the opposite of that...

Oh. Oh no.

She still remembers, a decade later, how the sight of her naked body broke the first and only boy that agreed to touch her. And that was before she got most of her scars!

She can't do that to anyone else, ever again. Especially not to him, not to her most treasured friend, not to the man who has been so kind to her that she dared bother him with her clumsy attempts at romance. Because with him, she could be certain, at last, that it would not turn out to be a prank.

How can she repay him by giving him nightmares?!

"Dearest? Why are you crying? Was I... Was I too forward? Too much?"

She did not even notice when the tears came. But here they are, marring her vision, so that there are two Emmrichs circling the table, kneeling in the grass next to her. Unafraid of the stains that will be left on the pristine Nevarran satin. Clasping her hands.

"I know that not all experience attraction the same way; if you would rather not explore this side of romance, that is perfectly fine, and wonderful! Your affection has already been such a beautiful gift."

Past her, the one that clung to the shadows, beyond the welcoming golden glow of camp fires, outside the reach of a friendly embrace; the one that spoke in sparse, grunt-like words, and kept her head down, beaten more than once, and shy far, far more than twice — that her would have made a vague noise and slunk away, never to bring this up again. But Emmrich — and Manfred! — was the one who brought her out of her shell. He deserves the truth, spoken with her whole chest.

"I... I do feel that kind of attraction towards you. You are a beautiful man, inside and out, and when I am with you, I sometimes forget myself and... pretend I am beautiful too."

She draws in a long, labored breath. She needs all the air in her lungs before this next plunge — she should know, she almost drowned once.

"But I am not. Especially not... from the neck down. You may have gotten used to my face..."

She dips her head — a habitual motion by now — letting her long, side-shaved fringe fall into her eyes. There's always quite a bit to hide under her hair: the dark rivulet of a birthmark on one side, the scar and the squinty damaged eye on the other. At least now she can do alchemical experiments in a mask and protective goggles. Less of an eye sore for Emmrich, to be sure.

"But trust me... My body is much worse."

She shuts her eyes and shrinks back into her seat, momentarily losing her present, adult, more or less mature and competent self (at least when it comes to alchemy and to… saving the world?) in the sheer blood-curdling terror of being seventeen again.

"The boy who took my virginity was so appalled that he said I'd scarred him forever. This has haunted me for ten years. And the... deed itself was punishment from his friends for losing some sort of dare. Do you understand?"

She forces herself to look into his eyes, even as the unseen, tightly wound strings holding her together begin to snap, one by one.

"Being with me... in that way... it's torture. I care for you too much to ever — "

"Lenore, my darling..."

Still on his knees — and still so tall that their faces are level — Emmrich pulls her hand to his lips and covers it in kisses. First on the outer side, swift, soft, each touch a beat of velvety butterfly wings; then, long, nearly reverent, on the inner side, where her pulse hammers against her bluish-pale wrist.

"Thank you for being frank with me. And I am truly, deeply sorry that you were betrayed with... such utter cruelty, in one of your life's most vulnerable moments. That fool of a boy was not the one scarred. You were. And oh, my dearest, you are still bleeding."

She listens to him in petrified silence, still as a startled halla before a long, soundless leap away from danger. She does not mean to — she knows Emmrich better than this by now; if he is disgusted by her, he will be much more polite about it — but instinctively, she braces herself for him to recoil away, grimacing like he is about to vomit. Overwhelmed by the sheer mental image of her laid bare before him. A slug; a toad; the stuff of nightmares.

Any second now. Any second.

He never does recoil.

"I know I cannot close this wound with a few words, much as I wish I could... But, darling, please try to take them to heart nonetheless."

His eyes, fully open now, reflect so much of the Gardens' ephemeral glow that it feels like she's sinking into two pools of starlight.

"Every body is as unique, as precious, as beautiful as the soul within. We study them, we mend them, we venerate them, in life and beyond. Your body is already dear to me because it is yours... And if you were ever to open it to me, like you opened your beautiful mind, there would be no greater honor than to discover — to savor — every last inch of it."

"I..."

Lenore swallows, her head swimming. If this lofty speech were delivered by anyone else, she'd have scoffed in doubt. Does she look like someone to whom a man (or woman, or anyone) would wax poetic about the sanctity of mortal flesh? What's the catch? But it's Emmrich, her Emmrich, whose voice and touch make it so easy to... Well. Forget herself.

"I want you to. Please."

He beams at her, placing one final kiss in the middle of her palm. Like a seal for a secret pact.

"Of course, dearest. Follow me."

They both get up, leaving Manfred (who has been off chasing the see-through Fade butterflies among the headstones, bless his innocent makeshift heart) to clean up their little picnic... Or at least to amuse himself with exploring how tea cups can be neatly stacked together.

Emmrich leads her to a secluded gazebo, crowned by yet another rendition of the embracing skeletal lovers that she has seen throughout the Gardens. Its threshold is barely visible, overgrown by a rustling carpet of delicate white blossoms that heave like the softest seafoam around Lenore's ankles.

"Shroud's kiss," Emmrich muses, after plucking one fragile white cup and placing it in Lenore's hand, right over the spot he kissed. The petals feel weightless against her skin, effervescent as a melting snowflake, as if woven from the Veil itself.

"I always loved the legend around this flower. They say that it grows on lovers' graves, and that one moves closer to the Fade simply by inhaling its fragrance."

He gestures to a bench under the intricate dome of metal lace, which is also cushioned in countless white flowers. She sits down, and a pale blue barrier shimmers into place around the gazebo. Shielding them from prying eyes. Emmrich's doing — or the Gardens'? Was this a secret rendezvous nook for someone else, once? Someone who might be buried underneath? Or, knowing Nevarrans, cast into the statue at the top of the dome?

"Do you think that legend is true?" Lenore asks, momentarily unable to contain herself. The fingers of her free hand race along the tips of the blossoms, and her alchemist's mind races in tandem.

"If we could maybe extract the essential oil and run a few experiments; but oh, that would require sacrificing so many of these beautiful flowers..."

Emmrich chuckles. He has leaned over her, bringing his lips so close to hers that she can drink in his breath, a pulsating heat beginning to rise at the bottom of her stomach.

"It is true if I will it, my dear," he murmurs, and the second he closes the distance, his tongue meeting hers in a kiss deeper than any they have shared before, the air all around them erupts in a cascade of pale-green sparks. Ghostly petals glide through the air, and if Lenore truly does tumble into the Fade, it is in a part of it that is as serene and sheltered as their Lighthouse.

The fragrant breeze is like silk against her burning cheeks, caressing her, each stroke leaving her more and more light-headed. Somehow, her body stops feeling like a heavy heap of scrap metal that she has to lug around while everyone stares at her; it is hugged gently by the cushion of petals, while Emmrich, as promised, explores it with both affection and... and gratitude.

He is still kissing her, diving deep with no fear of drowning, when his gloved hand unbuckles her belt and slips past the innermost layer of her traditional elven tunic. Her insides clench at the sensation of velvety fabric against her stomach rolls, and then her chest. As if she is balancing on a precarious clifftop somewhere back among the floating ruins of Arlathan.

But that startled pang soon dissolves into sweetest bliss. Emmrich has loosened the tunic's collar, allowing her shoulder and breast to escape, out into the warm, perfumed air. How scandalous! How very like the Randy Dowager's Gold Collection! Does she... Does she actually belong in one of those stories?

He continues to trace the outlines of her half-bared form, and his fingers are soon joined by his lips, which wander away from her gasping, half-parted mouth, and keep slowly moving down, paying a tribute of little kisses to each curve, each mole, each stretch mark. With a few motions of his deft, scholar's fingers, the layers of clothing peel off her torso completely, like she herself is a blossom unfolding.

His gaze measures her, from the flaming tips of her teardrop-shaped ears to the contours of her stomach. He smiles, a languid, hazy smile.

"Thank you for letting me see you, dearest."

"Can I..."

She clears her throat, part of her still dumbstruck in disbelief that this is actually happening. That she is actually saying this — to him.

"Can I see you as well?"

"I would be delighted."

She bites her lip, unsure where to start. But, ever so helpful, he weaves his fingers through hers, and patiently directs her through unclasping first his largest bracelet, then his collar pin.

Her heart hammers in her throat when she removes his jewelry and lays it on the bench beside her. With the bulkiest pieces out of the way, the buttons on his vest and shirt go next, and each of her little conquests over the delicate buttonholes is rewarded with a kiss from Emmrich. It does not slip past her that each of those grows a little sloppier than the next, a little more intermingled with bites and short, panting breaths. It's as if... As if he's enjoying her touch as much as she enjoying his.

At long last, his shoulders are bare as well. Exhaling softly, she marvels at the way the shadows of the gazebo’s lattice sculpt his bony clavicles, and runs her hands over the bristly cloud of short silver hair on his chest, and up his throat, where the skin is more worn with years of living, experiencing, being... him.

"You are perfect," she whispers, her thumb trailing over his cheekbones. At the sound of her words, his skin radiates rosy heat, and her body responds in kind.

"As are you, my darling."

His hands are back on her chest, as hers are on his. She chokes back a sound that might be a moan, or might be a sob. He pauses his chain of tender touches, uncertain if she is distressed. But she assuages his doubts by pressing into his mouth with another kiss, and if any tears do roll down her cheeks, those are tears of relief.

He hums in contentment at the back of his throat, and his fingertips, in their endless conductor's dance, brush along the texture of Lenore's many potion splash scars. She shudders when the cold metal of his few remaining rings glides over her, and the pulse between her legs, which has been growing stronger throughout their tender exchange of touches, of admiration, teeters close to its peak.

"Emm... Emmrich?"

She resurfaces from the kiss, dizzy and emboldened by the taste of him, and fumbles about for his hands, guiding them, like he guided hers, to push down her pants. His name comes out sounding as an awkward, stumbling mix between a needy plea and a tentative question. Emmrich, she means to say. Can you... Do this?

The thing is, she has no clue how to accommodate him between her thighs, underneath the soft pillow of her stomach. The worst parts of her, as the mirror says, as the memories in her head jeer.

But he smiles at her, and lavishes her with even more kisses, while she squirms under his searching lips, both nervous and aroused. Soon enough, he finds a comfortable angle... And again, he is on his knees before her. Fully giving himself to worship.

In romance serials, the good, beautiful partner with the perfect body orgasms when they are pleasured by their equally good, beautiful, perfect lover, and merely pretends to orgasm when the bad, comically inept or tragically forced lover, always fat, sweaty, and disgusting, slams against them like a dying tusket. What happens to the fat lover in the meanwhile, tends to be left out of the picture, because theirs is not the part of the story that the reader is here for. Perhaps, when the good lovers elope together into the sunset, the bad, fat lover is left to touch themselves all alone, in shameful secret, making a point not to overindulge, just like Lenore has in the past, because that would be disgusting...

And yet here she is. With a song of short, gasping notes coaxed from her lips, as his tongue circles within her and the ghostly blooms all around them merge into a flash of blinding white light.

When the peak is reached, when the wave hits her, and she, for once, is unafraid to drown, she impulsively grabs at the hair on the back of Emmrich's head... Which she only realizes once her mind stills a little — and instantly lets go, tumbling from the realm of pleasure back into awkward, clumsily physical reality. Apologizing for hurting him, again and again.

He looks up at her in half-drunken confusion, his hair in disarray, the pearly thread of her sex glinting in the corner of his mouth.

"Darling..." he manages to slur, his breath hitching. "You did not — "

Despite herself, she glances a little further down. And, for the first time — oh, by the Maker, Mythal, whoever, she is still so clueless! — she notices the bump in his pants. The little wet spot.

Oh. Oh.

He liked that.

"I wish I knew how to use my mouth the... the same way..." she stammers bluntly, still not looking away from the straining fabric.

"That is quite all right," he mouths, carelessly unspooling the band of red around his waist.

"There will be more nights like this one."

Until you become a lich and your duties take you away from someone so small and insignificant, a stray thought, like a charge of ice magic, runs through her brain, down her throat, impaling her very heart.

Grinding her teeth slightly, she wills her mind to return to the present moment. To the here and now. To Emmrich, brought to blissful ruin by the sight and feel and taste of her innermost self. To his sweet little moans and the rhythmic, almost elegant up-and-down pumps of his jeweled fingers, as they cup around the cock he finally brought out of his pants.

She never thought that Focus on his cock, focus on his cock, Lenore! would be a little chant of reassurance. The last time she saw erect, leaking flesh before her, she would rather have focused on anything else. But who knew that intimacy could be so different... even for the likes of her?

She bends forward and sneaks in a few kisses — on his wet mouth, over the desperately thrumming vein under his jaw — before his shuddering release leaves a messy splash of evidence over the both of them. She will help wash it off, of course; she knows the best potion mixes to do that... But it won't be something shameful, something that she had to get over with, retching and doubling over, her underthings stolen as evidence that the brave hero had survived the battle with the oozing, lumpy giant slug. It's simple, and natural — something that bodies do.

Bodies that are cherished and taken care of and worshipped. Hers revealed to him, his revealed to her.

Alive, here and now. Their skeletal forebears watching over them, in kindness and understanding.

[riagraie]

The Extinct People of Balance: Harmonizers pt2

WOOOOO PART TWO!!!!

Ok so as a recap, in part one I discussed: Where Harmonizers Came From What The Lost Realm Is What Is In The Lost Realm How The Lost Realm Fell

And ofc there was some extra lore stuff put in there. If this is the first part your seeing, I highly recommend you go see the first part otherwise this stuff might not make sense.

This is a long one gang, buckle up.

What is a Harmonizer?

To start off, I'm saying again, Harmonizers are an original species I've created that come from the 17th realm called The Lost Realm. I'd also like to mention, Harmonizers in modern day Ninjago (so Dragon's Rising Season 2 Part 2) are extinct except for two people.

That set aside, all the information from here on out will be about the Harmonizers when they weren't extinct.

I'm cutting it off here just bc there's A LOT of shit below.

If you have any questions, comments, or ideas, please comment, reblog, or send them to me! I love getting stuff about my au (i've gotten like 2 things but my braincells jumped around for 30 minutes straight bc of it)

General Notes:

Harmonizer's are a humanoid (2 legs, 2 arms) species with some non-human characteristics. I'll talk about their physique later on. They can either be male or female and require both biological genders to reproduce.

They come in 2 different "sub-species." Or as I like to say, factions because the two factions can still produce viable offspring if they interbreed. The 2 factions have different appearances, characteristics, and abilities.

Before I dive into the factions, I have to talk about the abilities of Harmonizers and what common traits all Harmonizers have.

Traits:

All Harmonizers have a few non-human characteristics in common which could change/alter depending on your faction and abilities.

A set of horns/antlers. Harmonizers can have either horns or antlers. I say antlers bc they look more like extra pointy antlers than horns lol. They can range in height from being 4 to 14 inches tall, and in width though most are thicker where they meet the skull and get thinner as they go up. Those statistics are dependent on genetics.

Sharper canines. Nothing major, but if you look to long, you are able to notice the canines of Harmonizers are just a bit bigger and longer than normal human canines. This is also depending on genetics.

Pointed & rotational ears. They have slightly pointed ears, (think half elf but less of a curve), which can turn or rotate up and down depending on the Harmonizer's mood. For example, if they just got good news, the ears may be pointed upwards. If they are angry, the ears will be pointed to the ground. This does give them a slightly better ability to hear as well, but nothing much better than a human's ability to hear. They do have sensitive ears so don't scream in them.

Glowing eyes. Harmonizers, no matter which faction, can see perfectly in the dark. For them, pitch darkness is like it's mid-day in the room/area. However, as a downside, their eyes glow like they have mini flashlights in their eyes. So they cannot be sneaky at night unless they have their eyes closed. This also means Harmonizers are very sensitive to light, especially after a period of being in darkness.

Skin markings. While the color of them changes depending on your actual skin color and your abilities/faction, all Harmonizers have full body skin markings that can range from being straight lines to swirls to loops to a couple dots, it really doesn't matter. The general shape of the markings (like thickness or the actual line shapes) depends on your genetics.

Black fingernails. Harmonizers have black fingernails that are usually naturally pointy like little claws. They aren't long, the longest recorded fingernails being at most an inch.

Natural beauty. For no reason other than character development and plot for Hanna, Harmonizers are naturally attractive. While they have different body types (hourglass, pear, apple, stick, etc.) they almost always will look attractive to another species. They have symmetrical faces and do not struggle with acne the same way humans do.

Otherwise, Harmonizers have normal human characteristics.

Other Physical Features:

THEY ARE TALL AS FUCK. Which is why Hanna is 5 feet 10 inches(177.8cm). She'd be taller if not for her human genes muting the height factor.

Adult Male Humanizer height, regardless of faction can range from 7 feet 2 inches to 8 feet 10 inches. Or, 218.44cm to 269.24cm. Adult Female Humanizer height, regardless of faction can range from 6 feet 8 inches to 8 feet 7 inches. Or, 203.3cm to 261.62cm.

They also don't know what being obese is, most of them having good to great muscle tone. So weight is in accordance to the average weight for their height and gender lol.

Harmonizers can have any skin tone and/or hair type. You could see a black Harmonizer with dreadlocks just as much as you could see a white Harmonizer with beach blond waves. Hair color and eye color, I know darker skin tones for humans means probably black or brown hair and eyes. For Harmonizers, this doesn't matter. If you part of a specific faction but have a skin tone that conflicts with the specifications, those conflicts wont happen lol.

Abilities/Powers:

Harmonizers are able to control 1 of 3 abilities with the third ability only being known to exist within 2 alive or once living Harmonizers.

The first ability is control of the Essence of Peace.

The Essence of Peace looks like either white or yellow/gold mist. It's function or how it can be controlled is similar to Scarlet Witch's magic from Marvel. In general, it's connected to the aspects of being like Life, Renewal, Growth, Continuation, Stability, and Community. The Essence of Peace, when housed or utilized by a Harmonizer can be used to undo destruction (like the Ladybug Miraculous after defeating an akuma lol), bring on fertility, heal active wounds, calm conflict, and give people a sense of serenity in the mind.

This may sound like it is a tranquil or steady power to control, but a Harmonizer who uses/has it is just as able to use it for negativity as Krux and Acronix were able to use their elemental powers for evil. The Essence of Peace is sometimes referred to as the Power of Control since it can so easily rectify "negative" situations without the consent of others.

The second ability is control of the Essence of Chaos.

The Essence of Chaos looks like either a lavender or dark purple mist. It's function or how it can be controlled is similar to how benders from the Avatar cartoon/anime control the elements. In general, it's connected to the aspects of being like Death, Decay, Despair, Conflict, Closure, and Isolation. The Essence of Chaos, when housed or utilized by a Harmonizer an be used to cause destruction(Like Chat Noir lol), cause illness or wounds, vegetation to decay/rot, cause conflict inflicting emotions, and give people a sense of hysteria in the mind.

Just like The Essence of Peace, the Essence of Chaos can be used for either good or evil, just because of what it is related to doesn't mean a user of Chaos can't use it for good or positivity. The Essence of Chaos also has a special name, it's name is the Power of Turbulence because it's uses may come off as disastrous or negative, the things it causes are just a part of life so they are necessary in a way.

The third ability is the Power of Discord.

Yep, the third power able to be used by Harmonizers is the power of Discord, Hanna's abilities. The only other person who has been able to say they are the user of Discord is Fuwa, who is Hanna's ancestor.

The Power of Discord looks like either a combo of purple and white mist, or is silver. The power function's like Lloyd's powers in many ways but can also be used like the Essence of Peace and Chaos.

This is connected to both The Essence of Chaos and Peace, The Power of Discord is a combination of both so in turn, it is connected to the same things as both and can be used to do the same things as both.

I'll explain why only Hanna and Fuwa can use the Power of Discord later on.

Factions

So, now that I've got the powers explained, I can explain what each faction of Harmonizers is and why there's separate ones. Something to note however, the Females of this species are referred to as Ladies and Males are called Lords. They have no royal status it's just what I decided to call them lol.

The first faction are the Lords and Ladies of Peace.

As you can guess from the name, this faction can use The Essence of Peace. Only this faction can use this Essence and as such, they take on characteristics of the Essence.

They often have lighter hair colors like blond or white but they can have darker versions of these hair colors that are like medium (dirty blond, red heads/gingers, etc.) They also have a specific kind of eye color to them. The whites of their eyes remain white ofc. The iris can be blue, green, yellow, or amber, sometimes light brown.

I mentioned above that skin tone is just skin and has no relation to hair and eye color for Harmonizers. This still stands. A Lord/Lady of Peace could be black as hell but have the blondest hair and bluest eyes ever seen. The only thing which remains to their skin tone is the hair type.

I mentioned before how Harmonizers are humanoid with non-human characteristics. Well, for Lords/Ladies of Peace, these are what the non-human characteristics can look like.

Horns/antlers: - usually antlers with 2-4 connection points to the skull and around 6-10 off shoots from there. - they are also usually white, yellow, or light brown in color with a gradient towards the root(connection to the skull) that matches the skin tone and/or markings.

Skin markings: - usually more straight in shape but more in number and less thick. - the markings color changes in how dark or light they are depending on the Harmonizer's skin tone so they can still be seen. But in general, Lords and Ladies of Peace have gold, yellow, amber, orange, pink, or white markings.

Eyes: - Lords and Ladies of Peace have normal eyes except for the pupil. For humans, the pupil is black. For them, it is pure white just like the actual whites of their eyes.

The second faction are the Lords and Ladies of Chaos

Noo... I wasn't lazy with naming, I just found the names fitting. This faction can use the Essence of Chaos. Only this faction can use the Essence of Chaos and as such, take on it's characteristics.

They have darker hair colors like black or brown but can also have medium shades of the hair colors just like a Lord/Lady of Peace. They also have a select few eye shades. Unlike those of Peace, Lords and Ladies of Chaos have the whites of their eyes as pitch black. Otherwise, the iris can be light shades of purple (lavender mostly), darker shades of blue (navy), dark or muted shades of green (sage), browns, blacks, and deep shades of purple.

Just like the first faction, skin tone doesn't matter for hair type n shit.

Also just like the first faction, the non-human characteristics change.

Horns/antlers: - Most have horns with varying structures (think the different horns in My Little Pony). They can have 2 - 6 horns or 1 to 3 sets. usually, one set will be bigger than the other two with each set getting smaller. - The horns tend to be darker colors like dark purples, blues, dark greens, browns, blacks, and at times very dark gray.

Skin markings: - usually more curvy in shape having multiple swirls and off shoots. They also tend to be thicker - They also change how dark or light the color is based on the Harmonizer's skin tone. But most of the time, they are black, dark purple, dark blue, dark gold and orange, or brown.

Eyes: - The only thing going on is that the whites of their eyes are black instead. Everything else remains normal lol.

I was going to do more BUTT this is again a lot of stuff happening in one post. So I'll be putting out a part three with some pictures of what the Harmonizers look like. I'll be using Gacha Life 2 for the general designs just because I don't feel like drawing people from scratch.

In part 3, I'll explain more about the lifestyles of Harmonizers, how The Lost Realm fell more in-depth, and how Hanna (my oc) is affected by her Harmonizer genetics since it is such a distant relation.

[hudine]

Well onto part 4 of my still nameless fic. Right now I’m just kinda posting to tumblr as I write.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

They made it into the mountains following hoof prints when they got jumped by a sylvan and a couple of elves. They came too tied up together in a cave.

“This is the part where we escape?” Jaskier asked as he worked on getting his hands free.

“This is the part where we die,” Geralt replied sardonically.

“Filthy humans,” one of the elves said and hit Jaskier.

“Leave him alone! He’s just a bard!” Geralt exclaimed and managed to head but the elf.

“No not the lute!” Jaskier yelled too late as the other elf smashed it. Jaskier was about to yell at them in elder when a familiar elf joined them in the cave and Jaskier groaned.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” He asked lips turned upwards.

“Just a couple humans. We should kill them before they bring others,” the female elf who had hit Jaskier proclaimed.

“They’re not human. Not entirely anyway. Are you blind as well as sick? He’s not only half fae, he’s also a prince. That’s Prince Julek of the Springtime Seelie Court. Considering they just agreed to take us in I don’t think killing one of the Queen’s children will endear us to my aunt any,” the new elf replied, “Hello cousin. You seem to get yourself in some of the most interesting situations.”

“Filavandrel. Well met. I’d give a proper bow but I’m a little tied up at the moment,” Jaskier replied amiably.

“So I see,” Filavandrel said trying not to laugh at the situation. He knew his cousin could get out of that if he really wanted to. “So who’s your friend?”

“Filavandrel, this is Geralt of Rivia, Witcher of the wolf school and childhood friend of mine. Geralt this is Filavandrel the last High King of the Elves. Also my first cousin. He’s he’s fae on his mother’s side which is actually rather common in Elvish royalty. His mother and my mother were sisters.”

“A pleasure to meet you your majesty. I’d also bow but am also a little tied up right now,” Geralt greeted.

Filavandrel let out a snort of laughter. “No you wouldn’t. You’re a Witcher. You’re also one of Vesemir’s pups. I have no doubt he’s taught you that Witchers are neutral and bow to no kings.”

“Yes well, Vesemir no doubt also tried his best to teach the pup manners and he’s trying to be polite,” A new voice spoke up followed by another man who looked a lot more like Filavandrel, only he had eyes that glowed more unnaturally blue and his ears wasn’t quite as pointed.

“Fuck,” Jaskier swore when he saw the second man, “I’m not going back Blaze!”

“Well I guess this answers the question of where you ran off to Jules. Is that Eric you got with you?”

Geralt grumbled a bit before speaking up, “It’s Geralt not Eric. Hasn’t been for a long time.”

“Oh yes, that’s right. Vesemir made you change your name before you could leave the keep. I don’t know why Witcher’s insist on changing their names before going off on the path the first time. While yes it is true that names have power, knowing one’s true name isn’t some sort of spell to compel people into doing things. I swear humans come up with some of the strangest rumours about my species.”

“They don’t all change their names. Although I suspect that old wives tale has a lot to do with why. I personally prefer to think of it like the old Shobogan tradition dating back to before they where fae, you change your name as a promise to who you are and/or want to be now because you have outgrown your old name,” Jaskier explained.

“Is that why you’ve been insisting on going by Jaskier?” Geralt asked, genuinely curious. “Who are the Shobogan anyway?”

“Yes, the other reason doesn’t matter since my cover has been blown. Shobogan is the name of our subspecies within the fae… lot of people just refer to us as royal fae but once the fae was a huge federation spanning many spheres with lots of different races. It’s why I’m considered fae even though I’m technically only half, it’s because I’m a citizen in the ruminants of that federation. Or species like that sylvan we tracked up here, or dryads for example are also considered fae. The elves first thought the humans where a subspecies of fae because they look a lot like the shobogan. Main difference between the two being our second heart and eyes.”

“You’re telling this Witcher our secrets!” The sylvan shouted, incensed.

“I didn’t go through the trail of the grasses, nor the tail of dreams. Never needed to. I did go through the rest. I’m technically also a Witcher,”Jaskier said as he broke out of the ropes binding them.

“Yes, very dramatic brother. We all know you worked your hands free ages ago and could break free at any time,” Blaze stated, rolling his eyes.

“Yes well. Had to find the best time for melodrama. I wouldn’t be me otherwise.”

“Yes well now I’ve found you that saves me a trip to Kaer Morhen to look for you,” Blaze stated.

“I’ve not had the courage to go there yet,” Jaskier confessed.

Blaze continued as if he said nothing, “Now the question is where is Valdo? He’s obviously not with you.”

“Who?” Geralt asked.

“Valdo Marx. My nephew. Sister’s youngest, the same age as me,” Jaskier clarified.

“And those two have been practically inseparable since he arrived back in our realm after the sacking. Have you seen him? He’s about this high.” Blaze held his hand up to indicate how high. “doesn’t actually look like he’s related because he’s got his father’s dark complexion and thick curly black hair which he wore short last I saw him, and has a thing on his face he thinks is a beard and moustache but really can’t grow one properly yet.”

“No, not seen anyone like that,” Geralt answered.

“I got no idea where Valdo ran off to. I didn’t even know he was missing, besides even if I did know I’m not going to tell you,” Jaskier added, “one of us needs to get out of court at least.”

“I’m not dragging you back to mother. I’m way too busy. Finally talked Filavandrel into bringing his people to our lands. Better to loose pride than be dead.”

“We’re resorting to stealing grain laced with iron from the humans. It seems we really need to move sooner rather than later if they’ve resorted to sending a Witcher up here. It won’t be long before they come looking themselves and probably in large numbers. We’re starving and sick. That’s not a fight we can win. The question is if we can get everyone out by then,” Filavandrel speculated.

“It will take a while to move so many,” Jaskier acknowledged, “Geralt… yes I have heard about the whole Blaviken incident. No I don’t believe you wholesale slaughtered anyone without reason. I know you. That’s not who you are. You don’t have to talk about it. I only bring it up because I have an idea but it does lean into that reputation a bit.”

“What?” Geralt asked, just knowing he was probably going to regret asking.

“Well you know how I can convince people of just about anything if I sing about it?”

“The frost trolls still ask if you are ever going to come back and preform for them after you got us all up the mountain that way,” Geralt replied ruefully.

“What if I make a song that makes people think you got rid of all the elves around here. By the time anyone thinks to look they’ll be long gone.”

“Sure, if you get people to start paying what they owe me while your at it,” Geralt agrees with obvious sarcasm.

“You know you just guaranteed it will make it across the continent and be sung in taverns for the next hundred years, right? You don’t tempt fate like that. She loves irony,” Blaze stated more than asked.

“You’ll need a new lute. I have one laying around doing nothing that belonged to my mother. Got to add to that irony after all,” Filavandrel added.

@xxx|}::::::::::::::::::::> <::::::::::::::::::::{|xxx@

[connoisseur-of-love]

SMURF AU INFO DUMP

been wanting to do this for a while for my elf AU.

this is more based on the anatomical bodies of the characters and less of other headcanons

PLEASE NOTE: all of this is in my own headcanon au, and not canon to any of the smurf media, and also may not be the same to other peoples own canons.

ALSO MOST DRAWINGS ARE UNFISHED.

is this AU an excuse to want to draw the smurfs as Extremley humanoid but still keep their main colour blue and in a fantasy setting (and not bother on fashion)?-pretty much.

also, kinda obvious. but I wanted to mention it. the designs of characters with this au, inherently infer the general hc/redesigns of the smurf characters (esp with their hair)

first up: Basic lore bits (warning, some slightly bio-science jargon)

-The smurfs are a race of elves. even though they look morpholigically different than other races of elves, they can still interbreed with eachother to create fertile offspring. so by the biologically definition of a species, they are still elves.

-however, they're is a lot of differences between them, as they generally appear a lot more animalistic. as in this AU, the are more so based slightly off of deers (more on that later)

-also, as they are elves, they are also related to the fae (most likely having the same common ancestor) but unlike other elf races. the smurfs are a lot more connected with them

-as stated before, the smurfs still (mostly) produce offspring via storks (due to help of more powerful fae creatures-and also once in a blue moon), however since the founding of the girls village, the need for the storks is slowly dissipating.

-Families (as in siblings) are a thing as well, which can either be due to the storks bringing multiple babies at once. or due to magical shenagins

-also, age is similar to that in canon

average anatomy for males and females (cw for nonsexual nudity - ALSO DRAWING IS QUITE OLD AND UNFINISHED)

ALSO CW: SEXUAL DIMORPHIMISM BETWEEN MALES AND FEMALES.

(bodies are quite humanoid) but they have more defined calves, as similar to deers. also they naturally stand on the toes as again more based on deer. the shoes they where however, give the apperance of flat feet.

Average height: 5'2 (most common for females) and 5'4 (most common for males)

ALSO, not shown, but legs are quite longer in proportion to the rest of the body

ALSO they have deer like tails.

Male tails are more so based on the canon round tails the smurfs actually have, but instead leaning it to be more deer like. men have smaller, fawn like tails, where the tails puffs upwards.

while females have longer tails akin to adult deers and

tails have fur, starting from the back. and are blue with a stripe of white underneath.

also, there is a common physcal mutation in the tail that makes it more lion like. (as shown with my self insert)

one thing that i have changed, as this art is quite old, is the body type of men. I think i want to lean with Canons more bottom heavy body type.

Skin tones is next. unlike in canon, the smurfs have more variations of skin tones in my au.

Hommonculi (so created smurfs like smurfette) on the other hand have more purple and off-blue skin tones to infer that they aren't bioligcal smurfs (smurfette has the left most skin tone)

They have Horns in my AU! which starts growing at 300 years of age.

males have more longer deer like, while females have more cow like thick horns.

and finally: ears

theyre are TWO average/most common ears.

the one that is more inspired by canon. so more rounder in shape, and points upwards. and the other one is more inspired by other elves.

however, they is a lot of other types of ears (which can be seen in my designs, like Vanitys really large ones and Handy's floppys. and smurfettes crooked)

thats really it for now, I don't have much.

Please note, constructive criticism is welcome and also other ideas to add. just don't be mean please.

full piece of drawing

thanks for reading. :)

[theothin]

Of course, what's more informative than studying a single image? Studying a combination of images!

A woman with long, wavy pink hair and an angry expression, wearing black armor and a cape, holds a sword with both hands above her head. Lightning spreads out from the sword.

This time, I added three words to see if it would help to get the pose right, and also to actually get two hands showing properly. I expected random variation to mean a lot of unrelated changes, but there's more similarities than I expected!

Her hair, armor, and cape colors are all about the same, as well as the pink eyes, even though I didn't say anything about eye color or the outline of the cape. The armor has a similar style, but with pink sections instead of white. Her face is a bit different, and doesn't have scars this time. Once again, there's a storm behind her, and what looks like debris from an explosion.

And then there's the sword.

Or, rather, there's two things, that both look vaguely sword-like. The first is the thing floating in front of her, with what looks like two hilts, and some sort of Escher blade that's a completely different shape on one end than the other. It's got the same pink glow, but the hilts don't look anything like the first one.

The second is behind her head, with only the blade visible. Assuming it's even supposed to be a blade in the first place. It does look connected to the lightning, so... point for that, I guess? But it's nowhere near her hands, at least one of which is pretty distorted.

I'm getting really curious why this AI is having so much trouble parsing her pose. Let's try again!

A woman with long, wavy pink hair and an angry expression, wearing black armor and a cape, holds a sword above her head with both hands. Lightning spreads out from the sword.

Is that still armor? It looks more like fabric, this time.

This time, in addition to rearranging the words, I changed the aspect ratio to 4:5, to try to encourage more use of vertical space. Which... might have worked, kind of? She's got one of the swords above her head, if those would even be called swords in the first place. The front one has some of the pink glow, but not the whole way down. Wonder what that's about.

She doesn't look as angry this time, either. I wonder if that's related to lacking the kind of armor she had in the first two - looking less tough in general.

A woman with long, wavy pink hair and an angry scowl, wearing black plate armor and a cape, holds a sword above her head pointing straight upward, with lightning spreading out from the sword.

I specified plate armor this time, which might have helped. (Trying to get the armor to be practical would be a whole other struggle entirely.) Specifying a scowl... not so much. The sword is pointing up for the first time, but once again, she's not holding it.

A woman with long, wavy pink hair and a fierce scowl, wearing black plate armor and a cape. She holds a sword above her head with both hands, pointing it straight upward, with lightning spreading out from it.

Well, we finally got her to hold a sword that's pointing upward. Even though she also has a second sword - I think it's been misunderstanding the phrase "with both hands" every time I include it. Also that is definitely not a fierce scowl, or plate armor. And she has elf ears for some reason. This is also the first time there's no explosion debris.

The site has some other settings that might help it follow the prompt better, but they require paying for a subscription, and I've been using the free version. You get what you pay for, I guess.

Do these new images affect your interpretations of the first one? They certainly do for me!

There's been a lot of talk about how humans will inherently add meaning to their art even without trying to, with details relating to the things they've seen and how they interpret them.

We should think about AI art in the same way. Not just looking for patterns typical for humans and getting frustrated when they don't match up, but really thinking about why an AI would do the specific things it's doing.

I generated this image through img2go, using the Anime style, with the following prompt:

A woman with long, wavy pink hair and an angry expression, wearing black armor and a cape, holds a sword above her head. Lightning spreads out from the sword.

There's so many questions we can ask about this! For example: Why is her pose the biggest deviation from the prompt? What happened to her right arm? What's with the weird scaling under her left shoulder? Are her scars an extrapolation from her angry expression? Why does one of the scars overlap with her hair? Is it a coincidence that the scars are a similar color to her hair?

Why does her sword have that specific design? It's not shooting lightning, but it's glowing pink - is that because of her hair? What about the pink glow in the middle of her boob plate armor? And what about the general armor design, like the white and gold sections? Why did the lightning from the prompt become a storm behind her? What's going on at the bottom of the image, is it meant to resemble signs of an explosion?

And you could dismiss it all with "well it copied aspects of images it had seen and didn't know how to make it make sense" but that's the "curtains are just blue" approach! We can learn so much more by really trying to understand what sorts of associations might have lead to these specific combinations of visuals! Both about the workings of the AI itself, and about patterns in its training data!

There's so much fascinating meaning we can get from these images. We just have to stay open to finding it.

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

Wrong End of the Ithilien Stick (Legolas x Reader)

Requested by: @elvish-sky

could i request a legolas x reader with angst- like she misheard something he said and they have a falling out- but with a happy ending?

A/N: Here you are!! Hope you enjoy :) bon appetit ☀️

They were hopeless – completely, and utterly hopeless. Most who wished to court did so at the first few stolen glances, but not Y/n and Legolas.

Apparently, a year’s worth of peril on the road did nothing to invoke revelations. The Fellowship journey may have introduced them to one another, but it did nothing to bring them together. No, that was entirely up to them �� the worst two to be left in charge of their own romantic fates.

Although, that’s not to say they entirely went their separate ways in the aftermath. Y/n had stayed behind with Legolas, in Ithilien, where they sought to restore the trees.

The whole process was full of cleared throats, deep blushes and shy smiles. Gimli, on the occasions he would visit, rolled his eyes, and groaned aloud.

“Ye still on yer dove dancing, are ye?” he taunted one day.

However, all the pair could do, was look away from one another. Y/n simply felt herself too inferior to his royal status, as to make the first move. Legolas, on the other hand, felt himself too high maintenance to even begin asking her if she minded his princely upbringing.

It was a vicious cycle, but one the four Hobbits sought to destroy, following their next visit.

“So, we are all aware of our roles?” Frodo asked, as the four friends strolled across a wooden bridge, and into the Ithilien forest.

Frodo had enjoyed the distraction, and appreciated the time away from his cooped-up desk greatly. Any chance to rid himself of the journey’s memories, was a chance he’d take.

“Aye!” Pippin confirmed. “Merry and I are tackling Y/n, and you and Sam will handle Legolas.”

“By nightfall, those two will be married!” Merry agreed, nodding resolutely.

However, stifling the Hobbits’ laughter, Y/n and Legolas appeared from nowhere – greeting them by the creek’s bank.

“Who’s getting married by nightfall?” Y/n sweetly asked, squinting under the bright morning sun.

“I don’t mind a wedding,” Legolas added on, smiling down at Y/n. “If it’s someone we know, perhaps we ought to go. Could borrow some cake?”

“I don’t think they’ll be wanting it back, somehow,” Y/n laughed, sharing the Elf’s smile.

Watching as they grinned brightly, and laughed together, the four Hobbits nervously looked at one another.

Oh, how desperately they needed their plan to work. Y/n would shrivel from mortality, before they even had a chance to marry themselves!

“Alas, we’re being rude,” Y/n dismissed, immediately moving forwards to hug all her friends. “It’s been so long since our last visit to the Shire! We’ve missed you all so much!”

“Likewise,” Sam warmly replied, hugging her tight. “We quite enjoyed the trek on over here too.”

“Oh, really?” Y/n excitedly asked, pulling back. “Legolas and I have been working on the trail leading in all year! We finally managed to grow the petunias you sent over as well.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Frodo smiled, now walking in tow with the girl and Elf, as they led them away. “So…speaking of news, has anything as of late occurred in Ithilien? Any news of courtship, perhaps?”

“From whom?” Legolas tightly asked, not at all liking Frodo’s sly connotation.

“Oh, no one in particular,” he lied, sharing a smile with the other Hobbits.

“Of course…” Legolas dismissed, nonetheless answering, as he walked through the botanical gardens. “Well, not to our knowledge, no…oh, but a wonderful pair of deer mated recently! We are expecting fawns any season now.”

“So are we,” Merry grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Having heard, with his Elven hearing, what the Hobbit said, Legolas confusedly glanced over his shoulder. Nonetheless, he merely only creased his features, before stealing a glance at Y/n. He then looked back up front, as they pressed on walking.

“Well, there is much ground to cover,” Legolas changed the topic, glancing up at the glittering trees. “We ought to start here first, so that we can make it back in time to-“

“Actually, Legolas,” Frodo interjected, coming to a halt, and causing the others to do the same, “we were thinking, on the way over here, that we ought to maybe split the group in half, so that we might finish earlier this time?”

Blinking down at the Hobbit, Y/n and Legolas knitted their brows. They then unsteadily looked between one another, before Y/n herself piped up again.

“Uh, sure…we can do that,” she said. “Any reason why, though?”

“Well, we do want to see your restoration project, and permaculture,” Merry began answering, chewing on the end of his pipe, “but, we’d prefer to spend some time with just you two as well. You know, at dinner and such. Don’t forget, we need supper as well.”

Looking between one another once more, and silently communicating, the two taller friends discreetly shrugged.

“Very well,” Legolas sighed, returning his attention to the Hobbits. “Frodo and Sam, you two can come with me. Merry and Pippin, you join Y/n. Oh, and Merry? Discard the pipe – there’s no smoking in Ithilien.”

Upholding both palms in surrender, Merry tucked the pipe away. As he and Pippin began following after Y/n, they both shared a sneaky grin with Frodo and Sam. They each all resolutely nodded at one another, before turning around to face back up front.

~

“Oh! Oh! Look!” Y/n excitedly pointed out.

Looking upwards, both Merry and Pippin observed a courting pair of bluebirds. They flew around one another, and landed in a little brown nest, high up in a tree.

Grinning brightly, Y/n breathed in the soft spring air.

“Oh, don’t you just love this time of year?” she wistfully sighed. “The courting animals, the romantic lighting, the little boats on the lake-“

“THAT’S IT! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!” Merry exclaimed. He clamped his ears tight, with both hands, and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Merry?” Y/n asked in concern, swiftly turning around to observe him. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? What’s WRONG?” Merry seethed, finally re-meeting her eyes. “YOU ARE, Y/N, THAT’S WHAT!”

“I beg your pardon?” Y/n bit back, looking him up and down with narrowed eyes. “What did I do?”

“It’s more like what you haven’t done,” Pippin elaborated, ever-so-casually. “Actually, both you and Legolas, to be perfectly candid.”

Feeling heat rise to her cheeks, Y/n stammered over her words.

“I-I don’t understand-“ she tried to say.

“Yes, you do,” Merry interjected, using a series of hand gestures to further his point. “You like him. He likes you. It’s been like this since Rivendell – BEFORE we all set out for Mordor, mind you! Somehow, destroying that little ring was easier than getting you two to admit your feelings!”

Y/n was at a loss for words. Had it all really been that obvious?

“Yes, it really has been that obvious,” Merry piped up again, apparently having read her mind.

Slumping her shoulders, Y/n ran a hand along her face, and complained.

“This is really humiliating…” she said. “Do you think Legolas knows too?”

“Y/n, not to alarm you, but I’m pretty sure all of Arda knows,” Pippin winced.

Finding a park bench, Y/n sat herself down in a flush, and groaned.

“Well, whatever am I to do?” she asked, as her two friends each took a seat beside her. “I ought to tell him, I know that much, but I just simply cannot muster the courage.”

“Y/n, I’ve seen you slowly decapitate an orc’s head with a picnic knife,” Merry deadpanned, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I think you can handle telling your one true love how you really feel.”

Rolling her eyes at his choice of cheesy words, Y/n soon reeled them into her lap, where she picked at her thumbnail.

“Aye, that is true, but…” she pressed on, “well, look at me, guys. I’m a commoner, and no amount of true love is going to change that. He’s a prince, at the end of the day…what would everyone think?”

“What does it matter what everyone thinks?” Pippin encouraged, holding her other shoulder. “We, the Fellowship survivors, know above all else just how short life is. You can’t spend it worrying about what others will make of your happiness.”

Seeing the cogs turn in her mind, Merry squeezed her shoulder harder, and urged her to look at him.

“You love him, Y/n…you can’t delay any longer,” he said.

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Y/n creased her brows. It was true, she loved him, more than anything else. Why should she deny herself that, based purely on what others would think?

“You know something? You’re right!” she resolutely declared. She stood upwards quickly, and squared her shoulders. “I love him, and I shouldn’t care what anyone thinks of my status! I’m going to tell him – today!”

Whooping and hollering, Merry and Pippin also both jumped to their feet. They pushed her along, as she began jogging away, to where she knew Legolas would be.

“That’s the spirit, friend!” Pippin cheered. “Go and tell him! And please make the cake red velvet at the wedding!”

Waving over her shoulder with a grin, Y/n pushed her legs faster, as to find Legolas, and finally reveal her heart to him.

~ In the botanical greenhouse, Legolas, Sam and Frodo all stood around – inspecting the many different pot plants.

“And this one is a young fern,” Legolas explained, holding a tiny plant up high. “I grew it myself from a seedling. I’m hoping it’ll soon have sprouts of its own, and raise a family, and-“

“Oh my goodness…” Sam sighed, folding his arms, and shaking his head. “You really are hopeless, you know that, right?”

“Pardon?” Legolas confusedly asked, lifting his eyes from the fern. “My apologies…if you do not like ferns, I could show you the-“

“Legolas…I think you ought to sit down for a moment,” Frodo interjected, gesturing to a wooden chair in the middle of the greenhouse.

Furrowing his brows, Legolas warily glanced between the two Hobbits. They stood in front of the chair, and folded their arms – very serious, indeed.

Slowly, Legolas made his way on over towards the chair, and sat down.

Instantly, the two Hobbits closed the greenhouse curtains all around, save for one. The only window left open served one ray of sun, which purely basked Legolas, and Legolas only, as if he were under an interrogation spotlight.

Squinting his eyes, and craning his head to move out of the light, Legolas spoke.

“Is the chair really necessary-“ he tried to say.

“Right, let’s cut to the chase,” Sam interjected, standing in front of Legolas with Frodo. “Y/n. You like her. She likes you. Now, why haven’t you courted her, and made beautiful children yet?”

Staring wide-eyed for a moment, Legolas parted his lips. However, swift in his archer’s mind, he soon sighed. Next, slumping his shoulders, Legolas responded.

“I suppose I haven’t been as discreet in my fondness as previously thought…” he mused.

“Not in the slightest,” Sam and Frodo said at once.

Twitching his lips to one side, Frodo softly stared down at his friend, and pressed on.

“Legolas…why haven’t you told her of how you feel yet?” he asked.

Lifting his eyes, and wincing them, Legolas considered his thoughts. He knew how much Y/n enjoyed her freedom, and he knew how restricting a royal life could be. He loved Y/n enough to not impose such a confining lifestyle on her – that was why he held back.

Exhaling again, Legolas knew he could no longer hide his feelings from his friends, and responded.

At the same time, just outside of the greenhouse, Y/n ran up to the door. Stumped for a moment, as to why the curtains were all drawn back, she nonetheless moved closer. However, upon hearing muffled voices on the other side, speaking of her in particular, she halted, and listened in.

“Are you jesting, Frodo? She’s a commoner,” Legolas said in frustration, shocking the girl outside. “Y/n and formalities simply do not mix. How could anyone ever love someone so different from themselves? Nay…I wouldn’t brew that situation.”

Having stumbled backwards in hurt, Y/n felt tears prick at her eyes. She raised both hands, and held them over her chest.

Before she could freely cry, she turned on her heel, and ran away. However, as she did so, she failed to hear the end of Legolas’ sentence, which defined the entire context.

“That’s why I can’t marry Y/n…she deserves better than what I could give her,” he said. “I wouldn’t wish for someone so free to be tied down to someone like me...I’m far too different from her.”

“Does Y/n not also get a say in the matter?” Frodo sincerely asked, studying his friend apologetically. “Y/n loves you, Legolas…you ought to at least give your courtship a chance, regardless of formalities.”

“Aye, Frodo is right,” Sam added on, nodding at his raven-haired friend. “You ought to at least speak to her. It can’t hurt…well, it can, but you’ll never know until you try.”

Sucking on his lower lip, Legolas knitted his brows. He considered his friends’ words, and mulled them over. It was true, he loved Y/n, and he was almost certain she him. Perhaps Frodo and Sam were right – simply talking couldn’t do much harm, could it?

Nodding his head, Legolas met the Hobbits’ eyes again.

“Aye,” he agreed at last. “You’re right, I ought to at least ask her!”

Swiftly standing, Legolas moved out from the chair, and headed towards the greenhouse door.

“We’re proud of you!” Sam cheered, giving a mighty few claps of his hands.

“Good luck,” Frodo smiled, nodding at his friend.

Nodding back once, Legolas beamed bright, and headed outside.

~

Having run away far enough, Y/n now trekked angrily through the forest. Her jaw was set, and her eyes burning. How could he be so nice to her face, only to say such horrible things behind her back? She cared not, for she would maintain the entire other side of Ithilien, from now on.

She, a commoner, would not dare stay with someone who cares so little for her. However, she soon heard a bright voice calling from behind. Turning around, she spotted Legolas swiftly jogging towards her.

“Y/n!” he called, wearing an excited smile.

The moment he jogged up to her, Y/n grew cold in her stance. She revered him with distrust, and anger.

This did not go unnoticed by Legolas, whose features dropped, and his mind wiped. He now sought to ensure she herself was okay.

“Are you alright?” he sincerely asked, brimming with concern.

Laughable, Y/n thought. How dare he pretend to care – right to her face as well!

“Never been better,” Y/n seethed, turning on her heel.

Stammering over his words for a minute, Legolas shook the odd mood in the air away. He followed after her, and shyly spoke – though, his words were hasty.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” he began. However, Y/n wanted none of it.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, your highness!” Y/n snapped, turning around once more, and angrily pointing at him. “I heard enough earlier.”

“You heard what I said?” Legolas repeated in horror, suddenly feeling his palms grow clammy – for more than one reason.

“Every last word,” Y/n replied, glaring across at the Elf.

Shocked by her attitude, Legolas was simply at a loss. He shook his head at the ground in confusion, and spoke.

“I-I thought you would have understood?” he said, lifting his puzzled eyes once more.

“Oh, I understand!” Y/n sarcastically started, rolling her eyes. “Just like you said yourself; how could anyone love someone so different?”

Truly hurt by her words, Legolas parted his lips. His eyes brimmed in anguish, as all his hopes were suddenly stomped on, and buried beneath the dirt.

“But…I thought that wouldn’t matter to you?” he said in a small voice.

“Yeah, well…I guess you thought wrong,” Y/n replied, scrunching her nose in disdain.

Turning on her heels, Y/n stalked away. Where she was heading? She didn’t know – all she knew, is that she could find some better and more loyal company, with just herself.

Left alone, Legolas stood in silence. What had just happened? She truly did not wish to court him, purely because of his royal status? Very well, then – he could do just as fine by himself.

Matching her anger, Legolas too stalked away, but in the opposite direction.

~

Sat down in the grass, and enjoying a picnic by the lake, Frodo and Sam basked in each other’s company. Merry and Pippin were off who knows where, and doing God knows what. However, all tranquillity soon came to an end, the moment a furious Y/n stomped past.

Staring between one another, and blinking in confusion, the two Hobbits quickly dropped their sandwiches. They rose swiftly, and chased after her.

“Hey! Hey, Y/n!” Frodo called, jogging to meet with her. “Have you found Legolas yet? There’s something you need to know. We spoke earlier, and-“

“Yes, I know you all talked earlier,” Y/n snapped, now recalling exactly whom Legolas spoke with before. She halted, and glared down at the two friends. “You’re all very good comrades, aren’t you? Well, if you are all such good brothers in arms, how about you go find him instead, and leave me alone?”

Noticing that she made a move to stalk away again, along the edge of the glistening lake, both Frodo and Sam confusedly looked between one another once more.

“I beg your pardon, Y/n,” Sam tentatively spoke up, watching her leave, “but I think you may have the wrong end of the stick here?”

“Oh, no, I think I have the exact right idea,” Y/n seethed, rolling her eyes. “I hope you all had a lovely time, speaking about me behind my back – and just a commoner? Really? We can’t all be from Bag End, Frodo.”

Confused, but only for a moment, the context suddenly clicked in Frodo’s mind. Racing forwards, he held Y/n’s hand, and kept her in place.

“Wait! You DEFINITELY have the wrong idea!” he exclaimed. “I know what you’re angry about, but you have to listen! He wasn’t talking about you in that regard – he was referencing his distress over taking you from your farming life, and placing you in royal formalities!”

“What are you talking about-“ Y/n had gone to say, with a yank of her hand out of his. However, Frodo’s words quickly met her mind, and ceased her tongue.

Oh.

Oh.

Well, now that made more sense.

Feeling a wave of shame wash over her, Y/n bared her teeth in cringe, and winced her features.

“Oh my…” was all she could say.

~

A little further off, but still heading towards the lake, and Legolas could be found in the same situation – however, only a few steps behind.

“You all come into our home, and plant ideas in our heads,” Legolas seethed, striding away from Merry and Pippin, “only to leave poisonous weeds instead! I don’t know what you’ve all done behind the scenes, but you’ve certainly made nothing better since your arrival!”

“Please, Legolas! Just tell us what happened!” Merry begged, struggling to keep up.

“Well, that’s just the thing, isn’t it? I don’t know!” Legolas exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “One minute, the last time I was with Y/n, mind you, and we were happy! But the second I see her again, after she spent her morning with you two, and she turns like the tide on a wintery day!”

“That just doesn’t make any sense…” Pippin whispered, creasing his brows. “When she left us, she was on her way to tell you all about how much she wished to court you, and-“

Halting in his tracks, Legolas paused. Snapping his head over his shoulder, the Elf questioned the Hobbit, who quickly clamped his mouth shut.

“What?” he pressed. “What do you mean she was coming to tell me of courting?”

Looking between one another, Merry and Pippin sheepishly bared their teeth. Figuring the cat was already out of the bag, Merry turned back first, and revealed their agenda.

“Well, we somewhat…nudged…Y/n, to tell you of her love for you,” he said. “Last time we saw her, like I said, she went to find you in the greenhouse.”

Knitting his brows, and mulling the new bouts of information over, Legolas responded through a confused shake of his head.

“But that just doesn’t make any sense,” Legolas continued. “What could have soured her perception, from her journey between you, and the greenhouse-“

The greenhouse.

Oh.

Oh.

Having caught his own words, Legolas immediately knew what went wrong. She had thought him to be insulting her status, and he thought her to be rejecting his.

Running a hand over his face, Legolas growled in frustration. Why must love be so hard? Surely, beyond courting, marriage and children, things would be easier, would they not? Well, Legolas wasn’t so certain he’d find out now – not unless he tracked down Y/n in time, before their rift planted roots too deep.

“I need to find her,” Legolas frantically began, looking all around himself. “I have no idea where she’d be – she could be on the other side of the forest, for all I know!”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Merry interjected, staring behind Legolas with Pippin.

“How would you know?” Legolas confusedly asked, though, his frustration edged his tone.

“Just a hunch,” Merry said again, pointing behind the prince.

Looking over his shoulder, Legolas’ formerly hardened features softened. Y/n stood in the near distance behind him, and anxiously stared in his direction – like a deer caught in the headlights. She chewed on her lower lip nervously, and waited by the lapping water’s edge.

Catching both Frodo and Sam’s eye, Merry and Pippin each awkwardly began stepping away, as did the other two Hobbits.

“Okay, we’re just, uh…gonna go now, yeah…good luck,” Merry said, dragging his younger cousin away.

Swallowing his nerves, Legolas suddenly felt his knees buckle, and his palms grow clammy. Nonetheless, if he was old enough to court, then he was old enough to resolve relationship issues.

Breathing in a shaky breath, and releasing it through pursed lips, Legolas forced his feet across the grass, to where Y/n stood.

Feeling her own heart hammer, and sweat cling to her temples, Y/n shifted on her feet. She frequently looked between an approaching Legolas, and the lake beside her. Was love meant to be this scary? Would it always be like this? Or was this the end?

She figured she would soon find out, for the prince now stood before her.

Both said nothing. Instead, they merely stole glances, like so many times before, and looked at the rippling lake.

The sun basked them in a warm glow, and the wind blowing through the leaves nearby met their ears. Soon, however, a chilly afternoon breeze rolled through, and darkened the sky overhead.

With a shiver, Y/n wrapped her arms around her form. She rubbed up and down, as to bring the warmth back. She hadn’t been wearing a cloak that day, for she figured she needed none. This was, of course, against Legolas’ advisement earlier that morning.

Sensing her cold, Legolas finally studied her again. With a sigh past his nose, he shed his own cloak. Next, stepping forwards, and accelerating both her heartrate and his, he wrapped the green material around her shoulders.

Immediately, the cold of the world was blocked out. It even appeared as though the sun above had made a comeback – breaking through the otherwise grey clouds.

He held her shoulders, as he adjusted the cloak, and secured it over her form. Y/n watched his features, as they creased in both concentration, and consideration.

“Why would you do that?” Y/n asked, after a moment of quiet study – breaking the silence finally. “Won’t you now be cold?”

Although he did not feel the cold the same way she did, Legolas used the moment as an advantage – a hoist to deliver his most inner thoughts, in a way.

“Perhaps, but…I’d prefer you to be warm,” he said, having initially jolted at her sudden words.

“Why?” Y/n tightly asked. She knew why, but she wanted to hear him say it.

Swallowing down his nerves, Legolas slowly met her eyes. They brimmed with nerves, but also adoration – a combination of which Y/n shared. However, hers also bore eagerness, and anticipation.

“Because…” he began in a small voice, swallowing once more. “I…I, uh-“

“Yes?” Y/n whispered, leaning in closer.

Sighing, Legolas buried his nerves away, and did the most un-Elven thing possible. He swept Y/n into a tight embrace, and hugged her warmly.

Shocked for a minute, Y/n widened her eyes. However, she soon melted into his touch, and hugged him back.

“Because, I believe a partner should ensure theirs is okay,” Legolas finally revealed.

“Partner?” Y/n repeated, in a very small voice. “And by partner…you mean?”

“Someone I love dearly, and care about most ardently,” he softly replied, kissing the top of her head.

Stunned by his small gesture for a moment, butterflies fluttered in Y/n’s stomach. She then hid said nerves with humour.

“Well…that is definitely hard to misinterpret,” Y/n attempted to joke. However, her joy overwhelmed her, and she squeezed the prince harder. “If it’s any consolation, I love you too…and I’m sorry for my brash behaviour earlier.”

“Aye, I am as well,” Legolas grinned, swaying her in the sun. “So…this may perhaps be an ambitious request, but…will you court me? Royal status and all?”

“Of course,” Y/n grinned back. “But, will you court me, commoner status and all?”

Smiling brighter, and closing his eyes contently, Legolas continued on hugging the girl by the shore. He then softly answered, whilst the sun basked them both in a placid glow – perhaps a tell-tale of the many good days to come.

“Without question,” he said at last.

[sidespart]

The Fall of King Romulus Part 3

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him…

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Pairings: Mostly Platonic LAMP and all the found family feels. Could be read as pre-slash.

Feedback appreciated. 

NOW ON AO3 :D

Prologue     Chapter 1   Chapter 2  

Remus. Remus, Remus, Remus.

The mad Prince of Notaleveale.

Remus was coming here. Remus was coming to Steveange and if Romulus saw him-

Roman had to leave.

Which was easier said than done; when the streets were crowded with hoards of shoppers and revellers all pressing against him, blocking his path, stealing the air out of his lungs-

“Roman!”

He needed to go. He need to find Virgil and Patton in whatever rooms they’d managed to find, collect his belongings and-

No. That would take too long – he could replace the clothes and books, he already had his sword-

“Roman, what’re you-”

- but he needed his lute. To make any kind of living he had to be able to perform. It was the only thing he was good at and once he’d got away he’d be -

He could do it. He’d run away before. He survived alone, without anyone, he could do it again and-

“Roman! Stop!”

He stopped.

Logan. Heading towards him. But he hadn’t given a time frame and if Roman grit his teeth and pushed past the spike of pain he could start to move again in just a second-

“Wait!”

Dammit.

Roman waited. Fists clenched by his side, until Logan was next to him.

“Roman.”

His chest was tight. His brain wasn’t -wasn’t working right and Logan looked so odd, with his glasses askew and his face flushed – had he been running?

“I thought I saw Patton.” Roman blurted.

It was the first excuse that popped into his head and it was clearly not – not good enough. Logan was frowning at him, a pinched expression, studying him like an experiment and-

Roman hated him, suddenly.

Logan was an upstart swot with ideas above his station and a chip on his shoulder. He poked and prodded and lost them jobs with his terse words and his better than you attitude. He reminded Roman of the tutors who snap at him for his lack of understanding and bark orders for him to recite, repeat, remember, to be better, smarter, stronger: someone worthy of his title.

He reminded him most of all of Julius. His fathers closest advisor, who had been charged with unravelling the Princes’ curses. He was the one who had helped Romulus learn how to push against his curse. He would give him orders that were almost impossible to follow and watch with cold eyes as Romulus struggled to disobey. Together they’d categorised how much pain he could withstand, what orders could be navigated and misinterpreted and which ones he was truly helpless against.

Once, he’d bid Romulus to stand on one leg. And left him there until his muscles started to cramp and shake, waiting to see if gravity or the curse was stronger. Romulus had been in tears by the end. Had even wondered, briefly, about complaining to his parents. But is was such a silly, innocuous order compared to other experiments. What had truly upset him was how Julian had just stood there, not speaking, his eyes distant and cold and calculating as he noted down every twitch and whimper from the boy. Even when he circled him, Romulus could feel those eyes boring into the back of his neck like a-

“Princey.”

Roman blinked. Julius’ practice room disappeared, replaced with the sights and sound of the Steveange street. Logan was in front of him and his eyes were far from cold. When he spoke it was with the same gentle tone that Roman had heard him use when Virgil’s worries overwhelmed him or when Patton woke from a nightmare and didn’t know where he was.

“Did the cro- the woman. Did she say something to you?” Logan was holding his hand. Gently but firmly, he tugged at Romans tightly clenched fingers, encouraging them to unfurl. Roman stared uncomprehendingly at the deep crescent marks he’d made in his palm.

Slowly, Logan released his right hand and reached for his left, repeating the process.

Roman felt shame ripple through him.

Logan wasn’t Julius. Logan would never push him so far he broke.

Logan was his friend and Roman has made him worry with his silly behaviour and his slapdash lie. But he could fix it.

He forced a smiled. Flexed his fingers and straightened up his full height. Made a show of looking around him.

“I swear I saw him. Big man, big sword, big smile – he’s hard to mistake!”

Hesitantly, Logan glanced around too before quickly refocusing on Roman.

“Are you sure you –“

“Ah well, the mind plays trick I suppose – must be hunger getting to me, speaking of which…”

Roman reached forward and deftly snatched the bag from Logan's grasp, reaching in blindly and shoving the first pastry he found into his mouth.

“Mmmm so good!” He beamed at Logan with berry stained teeth, flakes of pastry flying through the air. “Aren’t you going to have one?”

Logan stared at him. Roman kept his smile sweet and his eyes clear. He held up the bag and wiggled it enticingly.

Hesitantly, Logan took the bag and selected a tart. Keeping his eyes on the bard the entire time, he ate his treat with much more refinement then Roman had shown. “Holding back?” Roman asked, teasing, “I’ve seen you eat jam before, there’s no point pretending to have table manners now.”

Logan just hmphed but his shoulders relaxed slightly and Roman decided to take that as a victory. “We should get going” Roman said and started walking, Logan easily falling into step beside him.

The streets were crowded enough that none of the sellers seemed to feel the need to call to Roman specifically, and so this time he was free to investigate the stalls he was actually interested in.

But instead he stayed by Logan's side

Logan was a good friend. For all he claimed to lack an understating of emotional nuances he was letting Roman have his space. He’d even distracted him earlier, when his biggest concern had been the a spike of homesickness after meeting their northern customer.

He was nothing like Julius.

Roman was going to miss him so much.

***

Roman kept up his performance of normality all the way back to the main square, where they had agreed to meet the others once their mission was done. The sky was beginning to turn dark by the time they got there, though it was easy enough to navigate from the sheer number of stalls still in operation, each one boasting its own selection of colourful lanterns.

“This is fantastic!” Roman gasped theoretically, spinning on one foot to take in the whole spectacle.

“It’s a fire hazard.” Logan muttered with a frown.

They found Virgil waiting for them by the central fountain. He had manged to find a seat on the fountains edge but was wedged between two young couples who had clearly taken the romantic festival atmosphere to heart. The healer’s shoulders were up by his ears and his cloak was wrapped so tightly around himself it looked constricting. When he saw them he sprang to his feet so quickly he almost knocked one of the young ladies into the water.

“Took you two long enough.”

Roman and Logan glanced at each other.

“Logan got lost-”

“Roman kept wandering off.”

“-We brought you baked goods!”

Virgil took one of the two remaining pastries with minimal grumbling and led them out of the square. They took the north east road, a path that curved its wary upwards into the higher levels of the city. Here the buildings were all built of a blush-pink marble that sparkled in the evening twilight. The streets were wide, with neatly arranged flowerbeds and street lights which had the steady glow of Arkazeii glow lamps rather than the flicker of oil. There were certainly no traders spread out on blankets. Logan looked distinctly unimpressed.

“Was this inn you found an…economical choice?”

“It was a ‘the whole town’s rammed and this was the only place with a room left’ choice.” Virgil snarked “and don’t worry – its one room for all four of us with no breakfast included, if you were worried about getting too… bourgeoisie…or whatever."

Logan raised his hands for peace.

“I’m sure you did the best you could.”

“Well …we were lucky.” Virgil told him, and then glanced over at Roman, his lip twitching.

“Apparently they give discounts to performers.”

***

The inn was certainly a cut above their normal haunts. With brightly painted walls almost obscured by well pruned climbing plants, outdoor seating, and a wrought iron gate leading to spacious stables behind the building.  Even the doors were of better quality then your typical village tavern – made of wood heavy enough to make a satisfying crash when Roman stormed in.

The room was crowded, but Patton really was hard to miss. Roman shoved his way through to the back table where the big man sat waiting. Leaving other customers cursing in his wake.

‘Hey kiddo!’ Patton greeted him with a wide smile “Did you-“

“Key.” Roman snarled.

Patron blinked and him, shock writ large on his face. “Sorry?”

“The key. To my room.  Give it.” Roman snapped. “It is mine right? Since you seem happy to pimp me out in exchange for-“

“Hey!” That would be Virgil. Roman half thought he had left both men behind in his rage after Virgil’s little announcement, but the elf at least seemed to have kept up. He’d reached the table just in time to hear the start of Roman’s rant. “What the hell is your problem Princey?”

“My problem? Oh I’m sorry, I’M not the one signing other people up to sing for their supper without permission Virgil.”

“You like singing for your – we thought you’d want to!”

“Well it would have been nice to have a choice!”

“Virgil. Roman.” That was Logan, it had taken longer for the shorter man to force his way through the crowd but he wasted no time now in inserting himself into Romans business. “whatever this is… it’s not about putting on a show.”

He turned to the other two. Virgil scowling, Patton wide eyed.

“He had an…episode in the market.”

“Excuse me?” Roman shouted.

“Roman, whatever disturbed you, you practically ran away.”

“Well perhaps I had simple grown tired of looking at your face? Had you considered that?”

He turned his back to Logan, rounding on Patton again: “Now, give me the-“

Patton already had his hand out, wrought iron key resting loosely in his palm.

“We’re on the fourth floor.” he said calmly as Roman snatched it from him. “First door once you get up the stairs.” Roman spun on his heel only to find Virgil blocking his path.

“Move.” Roman hissed.

“What is wrong with you?” Roman narrowed his eyes. Virgil looked angry. Looked one second away from telling him to sit down, shut up, stop causing a fuss. He wondered if he could get past him without using his sword.

“I’ll bring you up some food in a bit,” Roman blinked glancing back at Patton, startled. The warrior still hadn’t moved from the table - admittedly no easy task in the cramped corner- and was looking at him calmly.

“I don’t want anything” Roman muttered, sullen.

“But you might later.” Patton smiled at him. Not knowing how to respond Roman turned back to Virgil. The elf glanced between the two, chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, before sighing and stepping to the side. Not fast enough to prevent Roman from knocking his shoulder with his own as he pushed past however.

It wasn’t as satisfying as he hoped.

**

At a guess, the room was normally meant for storage not guests. Two rickety looking beds had been shoved in, so close together they might as well have been one. There was one small table forced between the end of one bed and the wall, with a basin of water perched on top. Someone,  presumably Patton, had organised their bags neatly at the end of the beds. Roman’s was at the far end, closest to the window. Then Patton, then Virgil with Logan closest to the door, next to the only built in shelf where a candle had been left for the night. Roman would be able to wake with the dawn, as he liked to do, and Logan would have light for the longest to stay up and read.

Romans lute was not on the floor with his pack.  Instead he found in had been placed on the bed itself, propped up on his pillow, away from any potential harm.

Whatever righteous anger he had been able to hang on too as he stomped upstairs dropped out of him now like a stone from a cliff. Without it, the despair he had felt in the market came rushing back. He sank down right there by the door, bringing his knees up to his chest as he’d done in the forest. As he used to do in Julius’ room.

He almost wished Julius was here – at least he would tell him not to cry.

The through was so absurd he let out a weak snotty laugh and buried his head in his arms.

He needed to leave Steveange.

He didn’t want to leave them.

But they had planned to stay for a week at least, hopefully longer.

Convince them to leave early? Except he couldn’t explain why. Find them a job out of the city? How? When the coronation and accompanying celebrations were over it would be easy enough to find a traveling group in need of a little extra protection, but for now no one was leaving.

They’d been excited to come. Virgil want to try the city baths, famed for their heated pools and soothing water. Logan had been talking about the library for half the trip. Patton was just excited to explore the city itself, meet the people and try the food. He loved when they stopped in busier towns but it was a rarity.

There was no way Roman would be able to convince them to leave just because he wanted to.

Roman did what other people wanted. It was all he knew how to do.

And even if he had a convincing reason…well, they probably didn’t want him around anymore anyway.

He scrambled up, grabbed the first pillow he could reach and buried his face in it to muffle a scream of frustration which turned into more sobs.

He was so pathetic.

Since he’d left home, he’d kept his memories, kept Romulus, buried as deep as he could. But now it was like Romulus was just under his skin. Ready to jump out If he let himself slip. With all his anger and hurt and fear.

Romulus was a liability.

Romulus was a murder. Or would be. If Roman couldn’t think.

He stepped over to his pack, still hugging the pillow to him like a teddy bear, and started to review the contents. He didn’t need to take all of this with him, surely? Half of it wasn’t even his, their belongings having become more and more intertwined the longer they travelled.

The healing salve was rightfully Virgil’s, the soft shirt he wrapped himself in during cold nights was actually Patton’s, at least one of the notebooks belonged to Logan.

He opened the nearest book to check, but instead of Logan's neat lists his own sloppy scrawl stared back at him. Song lyrics and passing thoughts and, on the next page, an unfinished sketch. It was of Virgil, hand covering his mouth but eyes betraying his laughter. The other pages, he knew contained scribbles of all three of them. He flicked back and found his favourite, the page marked with a yellowed leaf he couldn’t remember picking up.

It showed all three in one sketch. Logan, sleeping and so looking years younger, head pillowed on Virgil’s thigh. Virgil was turned towards Patton, rolling his eyes as if to say ‘can you believe this?’ but making no move to actually shift scholar off him. Patton was laughing, he was the most well rendered of the three figures, you could almost see his shoulders shaking.

Roman looked at it for a moment. Then slowly replaced the book mark and closed it. This would have to come with him.

A knock at the door startled him so badly he dropped the book, which bounced under the bed.

“Kiddo? Can I come it?”

Fuck.

Patton. He had -he had been so, so unbelievably rude to Patton.

His first instinct, which was admittedly not a good one, was to jump out of the window.

Roman took a deep breath. Focusing on the mundane task of sorting items had cleared his head somewhat. He was still a little shaky but his eyes were dry. He knew what would be expected of him now - Romulus had spent most of his life apologising.

“Come in.” he croaked and stood, squaring his shoulders.

Patton entered alone, two bowls of something that smelled delicious cradled in his arms.

Roman ignored the sudden spike of hunger – the fruit tart seemed a long time ago now- and bowed from the waist. He kept his back ramrod straight and bent low enough that it quickly became uncomfortable. It was the kind of bow Romulus would only have given his father or elder brother.

“Patton, I owe you my most humble apology I-“

“Roman I am so sorry.”

“The way I spoke to you was the height of disrespect and unprin- ungentlemanly behaviour I – wait, what?”

He straightened up and looked at Patton, confused. “Why are you sorry?”

“Roman, I – wait hold on.” Patton handed him one of the bowls and turned to close the door. “Do you mind if we sit?” he asked and Roman nodded, smiling despite himself. Patton was the politest person he had ever met.

Once they were both seated, Patton’s bad leg stretched out in front of him, Patton looked at him seriously.

“Roman you were right downstairs. We should never have promised you’d perform without asking you first - no it's true!”

But Roman was already shaking his head. “Patton you were fine, you know I love singing! I was the one acting like, like some sort of beast I-“

“I know you love singing but that doesn’t mean we get to pick and choose when-“

“But I wanted to perform as much as possible whilst we were here- I’d told you that!”

“-especially after travelling all week. We were, er, presumptuous.”

Roman stared at him.

“Unlike this soup, which is pre – scrumptious.”

Patton beamed at him. Roman groaned.

“Anyway I’m sorry for letting you stew-“ he held up the bowl again waggling his eyebrows “- up here for so long, but we needed to make things right with the landlord.”

Roman, who had been starting to relax under the force of two puns in a row, tensed again. “What things?”

Patton smiled. “We paid the difference – you don’t have to perform! Uhh unless you want to of course, but it’s your choice.” He nodded decisively whilst Roman gaped.

“b-but isn’t it expensive?”

Patton just shrugged, “Well, the last job paid well didn’t it?”

“Not that well!”

“Aw c’mon kiddo, what’s the point of having money if we don’t spend it? Right?”

Not knowing what to say. Roman shoved a spoonful of stew into his mouth without tasting it. Guilt turning the meal to ash.

“Patton…how many days did you pay for?”

“The rest of the week! And there’s still enough to have some fun at the markets, don’t worry, we can all have a – hey!” Patton put his bowl down, shuffling closer to put one warm hand on Roman’s knee.” Roman, hey kiddo, buddy what’s wrong?”

Roman found, quite to his surprise, that he was trembling. He followed Patton's example and put the bowl carefully on the floor before digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I…can’t Pat. I can’t stay here. I have to go.”

“Go?” Patton looked at him with confusion clear in his big brown eyes, “But why kiddo? You don’t like the inn?”

Roman groaned shaking his head “not the inn. The city. I’m not – I can’t – if ‘m here it- “ he let out a whine of frustration, hating his curse heavy tongue.

Never tell anyone about our conversation.

“I just-“ My brother is coming and if I see him I-

“If – “ my brother is coming and he won’t be alone. There are people who know who I really am and I –

“Okay.”

Romans head snapped up.

Patton still had a frown on his face but when he looked at Roman his eyes were as serious as Roman had ever seen them. “If you can’t tell me the details it’s fine but-“ he lent forward, “Roman, are you safe here?”

Without breathing, Roman shook his head. No.

Patton nodded and squeezed his knee. “Well then of course we’re not staying.” Hesitantly, he lifted his arm and rested one large hand on the back of Romans neck. Forcing their eyes to meet. “Whatever it is – we will help you. You know that don’t you?”

Embarrassingly, Roman felt his eyes filling with tears.

“We’ll leave in the morning.” Patton told him. Patton stood up, taking Romans congealing stew and his own empty bowl and headed to the door. He paused, one hand on the door handle. “Everything’s going to be okay kiddo.” he smiled, “We love you.”

And he was gone.

For a long moment Roman sat frozen, staring at the closed door.

“Yeah.” He agreed, eventually. “Right.”

Except. They didn’t. Not really.

They loved Roman.

Roman had screamed and insulted them and instead of kicking him out of their group like they had every right to do, they had given up what little money they had just to make Roman feel better.

And Roman was a lie.

Roman was Romulus with a bad haircut. And Romulus was everything they weren’t’ – a stupid, pampered, prince with no power or pride.

Patton might be willing to upheaval their lives just on Roman's say so, But Logan and Virgil were more practically minded. They would want explanations. Might even demand them.

Never tell anyone about your curse. Remove yourself from anyone who might ask you about it and put as much distance between you as you can.

Romulus was a liability.

One they shouldn’t have to deal with.

He strapped his lute to his back and secured his dagger in a hidden pocket that Virgil had taught him how to sow.  Everything else he left, including, after a moments hesitation, his sword. He had been training Logan to use it, on and off, and whilst the scholar was no solider he was improving. At the very least, it would be some source of protection until they could hire another swordhand for their travels.

The climbing plants he had noticed on the way in made getting down from the window much easier than he had originally anticipated. Dusting off his hands he skirted the building, taking care to avoid the large windows of the main hall, until he found the entrance to the the stables.

He wasn’t proud of it, but he had stolen before when he first left home. He would have to again now in order to put some distance between the city and himself.

It wasn’t his worst plan.

And it might even have worked, had they not already been waiting for him.

When Romulus was eleven, and had taken to following the young Marquis de Orenlla around like a love sick puppy. Even now, under the weak light of a covered lantern and with almost fifteen years distance from the memories, he still recognised him instantly.

“Good evening, your highness.” The Marquis smile was as dazzling as he remembered, although his eyes were colder.

He had no army with him, and no weapon that Roman could see. But then, why would he need one?

“Come with me.”

Roman went.

part 4

[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter Ten ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 4422

Warnings: Canon-level violence

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Just so you know, I start playing a little fast and loose with ‘elf-lore’ right about here. Thanks so much for all your responses to the previous chapters! Happy reading <3

We retire early, each of us exhausted from our long journey. Elrond arranged rooms for us in his expansive home, which I found out is the heart of the city. I guess when you found a town, it makes sense that you get the largest estate. At Elrond’s instruction, a female attendant leads me up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway. She opens a door to my left to revel a large room with a four-poster bed, table, chaise lounge, couch, fireplace, and, through an archway to the side, a full bathroom. Pillows and blankets decorate every available surface and I notice a large selection of books and candles. After two weeks on the road, I want nothing more than to bury myself in this room’s amenities.

“Wow,” I breathe, unable to do much more in my state of awe and fatigue.

“Lord Elrond knows about your fear of heights and has placed you in one of the most innermost rooms of the estate. Your windows will offer you views of our waterfalls but you are nowhere near to the edge. I hope it is to your liking.”

I smile, my already present fondness for Elrond growing. Though, I do wonder which of my friends told him about my fear of heights. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

The attendant nods, leading me to a chest of drawers. “You will find clothing here and bathing provisions in the bathroom. Meals are three times a day and you may join the others in the common hall or request to dine in your chambers. If you require my assistance, I am in the room at the very end of the hall and to the right. I hope you sleep well.” She curtsies deeply and I wonder if I should do the same. Just to be on the safe side, I place one leg behind the other and squat, awkwardly attempting to mirror her movement. She puts great effort into suppressing a smile, but inclines her head in acknowledgment of my efforts before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

What am I going to do?

This place is dangerous. It’s terrifying. And yes, I feel relatively safe within Elrond’s walls, but he said it himself—just last month, orcs attempted to infiltrate the city. What if they try again, only this time, they succeed? And with some evil being on the rise? Nope, no way. I don’t think I can deal with that.

I throw myself facedown on the large bed, groaning in frustration. This world that I’ve only just accepted to be real is showing me just how real it is. The honeymoon phase is over. The rose-colored glasses have been lifted from my eyes, and what I see paints a dark, fearful scene.

Yet, even still…I cannot ignore the part of me that so badly wants to stay.

The people I’ve met here—humans, elves—does it really matter? Whatever they are, whatever I am at this point, honestly, does it actually, in the grand scheme of things, matter? Because I like them. I care about them. More than anything, I don’t want to leave them, to go back to a world of people I don’t know.

But danger and my friends are a package deal.

And I don’t know if I’m equipped to handle that.

I flip around into a seated position, letting my head flop into my hands.

I’m tired. I’m overwhelmed. I’m stressed. And I’m exhausted. Now, I need to sleep. Everything else can wait until morning.

I haul myself off the feathered mattress and drag my heavy feet to the chest of drawers. As far as sleep items go, I find only nightgowns, but they’ll have to do. It’s much better than sleeping in the muddied clothing I’ve traveled in for two weeks.

I change quickly and blow out the candles I rely on to light my room. I crawl into bed, pulling the thick duvet up to my ears. Before I know it, sleep calms my racing mind.

{***}

I wake in the mountains.

A roar, guttural and angry, comes from behind me and I throw myself into a sprint. I stumble over the uneven terrain, catching my foot on rocks and scraping my shins, but I keep going. Whatever I suffer running away is surely better than being at the mercy of the beast that pursues me.

Brown, gnashing teeth cut me off and I shriek, falling onto my back. An orc with its stinking, rotting breath descends on me, dagger cutting into my arm. I cry out not only in pain but in panic, for the blood that falls to the ground is not red — no, it is thick, dark sludge.

I’m underwater.

The sludge suffocates me. It fills my lungs and burns as it slides over my skin. I kick, desperate to get away.

Below me, a honeyed voice sings. It beckons to me, begs me to come deeper, to let myself sink. It promises safety, security.

It promises peace.

“Cosima.”

Haldir’s voice far above me sounds muffled as it travels through the murky waters. I snap my head up. I can’t see anything, only the darkness, but I know that if I can somehow get to him, if I can follow his voice, then I will reach the surface.

“Cosima!” Rumil shouts for me now.

My name, called in turn by each of my new friends, overlaps, drowning out the sweet sounds from below.

My vision darkens. I have gone too long without breath — I have to make a decision.

I kick my legs, propelling myself upwards.

{***}

I break through the surface, sputtering and gasping for air.

Light—harsh and bright orange—momentarily blinds me. As my eyes adjust, I recognize the puffy white duvet, the cool grey of the stone walls, the soft pink flowers cascading from the ceiling. I’m in my guest bed in Elrond’s house. I never left my room. I never lost to an attacker in the mountains. I never fell into the water.

It was just a dream.

Water—the roaring sound of the waterfalls—while muted, is still subtly audible in the background. And my dream—it was nearly exactly what I imagined before waking in Arda. The sound from the waterfalls must have triggered it.

Just a dream, I remind myself, trying to calm my racing heart.

A sharp knock disrupts the silence of the room and sends stabs of pain through my head — bad dreams and a headache, too, I guess. The knock sounds again and I groan, forcing myself to leave the coziness of my covers and pad on bare feet to the door.

It’s Haldir. He stands, hand still raised, in fresh clothes and even more armor than yesterday. His bow is slung over his back, a quiver and sword rest at his hips. I try not to let my thoughts get away from me with overreaction — surely this isn’t necessary for inside Elrond’s halls.

He lowers his hand, dipping his head briefly in greeting. “I—” he seems to notice my nightgown. “Did I wake you?”

I shrug and attempt to lean against the doorframe casually, still mildly disturbed from my nightmare. “I don’t think so.” Then, panic causes me to stiffen. “Have you been here long?” Did he hear anything? Oh, I hope not.

He shakes his head and I relax. “No, I only just arrived.” Whew. “I came to get you — Elrond wants to take a look at your arm. I also wanted to let you know, Glorfindel and I are going to visit a couple of the border stations and see if there are improvements to be made. I will be back late tonight.”

“Oh.” I blink. So he’s leaving. “But you only just got here.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“Well, don’t you want a few days to relax?”

He tilts his head to the side. “I have been relaxing — I’ve been on leave from my duties for three weeks now.”

I roll my eyes, recalling his constant state of watchfulness on our journey. “Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t call the trip we just had ‘on leave from your duties.’”

He huffs, but the beginnings of a smile tugs at the edges of his lips. “Would you please get dressed so I can escort you to Elrond? Glorfindel and I wish to leave within the hour.”

I fight the urge to make some snarky comment about his impatience and instead shut the door in his face, hurrying to get ready. My arm does sting — perhaps Elrond can do something about that.

The chest of drawers doesn’t offer much in variety, mostly just a combination of long dresses and a few tunic and legging sets here and there. I’ve been traveling in the same clothes for two weeks though, and a change in habit doesn’t sound too bad, so I opt for a sleeveless pale blue gown with a gossamer cape at the shoulders. I don’t look as ethereal as Lavandil would, but I suppose it will do. Using my fingers, I brush down the frizz in my hair as much as I can—a lost cause, really—and throw on a pair of cream slippers that no one will see anyway because of the gown. After splashing some water over my eyes and brushing my teeth, I throw open the door to find Haldir standing to the side, back to the wall, watching the coming and going of everyone who passes down the hallway. Always on duty. He acknowledges me with a stiff nod and gestures down the hall, falling into step beside me. When we reach the bottom of the staircase, he leads me to the right and through another open-air hallway.

He breaks the silence. “Is your room to your liking?”

I think back to my plush bed, trying to separate it from the dread and fear of my nightmare. “Oh, yes. As much as I liked sleeping under the stars, it’s nice to have a proper bed and all the blankets I could want. And a door.”

He huffs out a laugh, nodding in agreement. “That is the true indication of luxury.”

“And yours?”

His mouth twists into a grimace. “It is the height of visitor season here in Imladris, so I am sharing with Rumil. Aside from constantly putting up with my younger brother, it’s perfect.”

I freeze, turning to him. “Wait, you have to share? But you’re the one who’s supposed to be visiting, that’s not right. You or Rumil can have my room, I’ll stay with Alex—”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” he interjects quickly, jerking his head to indicate that I should continue walking. “I only meant to joke. I do not mind sharing a space with my brother.” Before I can respond, he changes the subject. “How is your arm?”

I raise it, feeling the skin stretch over the cut. “Stings, but it’s healing.”

“Elrond will be able to speed along the process.” He indicates that we should turn left down a new hallway. He leads me through a nondescript archway on our right and we enter a moderately sized semicircular room.

Elrond sits at a mahogany desk near one of the walls, writing furiously on a piece of graying parchment.  Upon our entry, he looks up, and the lines of stress on his brow melt into an expression of warm welcome. “Good to see you again, Cosima, Haldir.” He nods to each of us in turn and motions for us to join him at his desk. When we approach, Haldir bows his head respectfully, so I do the same. It’s strange to be in Elrond’s presence. He carries such authority that I feel small in comparison, yet he also leads with such kindness that it is impossible to not want to be around him. Based on all the visitors Haldir mentioned, I surmise that I am not alone in this assessment.

Elrond vacates his chair and gestures for me to sit. He comes to stand at my left and gently takes my arm in his hands. “I am sorry for the injury you suffered during the attack. That must have been quite jarring.”

Haldir rests a hand absently on the hilt of his sword, watching us from the other side of the desk. Likely, he too is remembering the ferocity of the attack — the lives he had to take. It must be hard, even if they were the lives of those trying to kill us.

“It was,” I agree, wincing slightly when Elrond unwraps the bandage encasing my upper arm. “As far as I know, my home doesn’t have anything like that.”

He smiles almost indulgently, crouching to more closely examine the gash. “But you would not remember if it did, no?”

I swallow. I hadn’t considered that. “I guess you’re right.”

He looks into my eyes then, and I feel so very young. “Every world has its perils. And every world has its joys. You cannot have one without the other—such is the way of life.”

I exhale shakily, turning my eyes to the ceiling. That’s sobering.

Elrond lays his fingers over my torn skin and mutters something in that language I so often hear.

I try to concentrate on the sounds, but can’t make out any specific words. “What is that?”

Since Elrond is still chanting, Haldir answers for him. “An Elvish healing incantation. Combined with the power in Elrond’s spirit, it should close up the wound.”

Tingles race through my upper arm and converge on my cut. I crane my neck, trying to see around Elrond’s hands. A second later, he pulls away. I gasp. All that is left of the cut is a thin, raised scar.

“What,” I murmur, prodding at the skin. Not painful, not even tender. What was just a two-day old wound now seems as if it happened and healed ages ago. “That’s impossible.”

Elrond nearly smirks, straightening to full height. “Open your mind, young one, and you will see that what is impossible to you is commonplace here.”

“I—” but I have nothing to say to that. Though I cannot possibly wrap my head around what just happened, the fact remains that it did. I’m not sure if I’m ready to confront what that means. So I push it away for later. “Thank you.”

Elrond inclines his head. Everyone around here is so dang respectful. “You are welcome.” With a twinkle in his eye, he turns his focus to Haldir. “Do not give my guards too hard a time. I imagine they are wary of your arrival.”

Haldir gestures for me to follow him to the exit. “I only plan on pointing out strategies for improvement. Suggestions, really.”

With a noise that clearly communicates his disbelief in Haldir’s statement, Elrond returns to his desk, smiling softly and shaking his head. “Be safe, Marchwarden. And Cosima?” I stop and turn, one hand on the pillar leading into his study. He gives me a level look and I have the distinct impression that he is acutely aware of the conflict raging within my head. “My door is always open.”

Mutely, I nod, a little stunned by the gravity in his gaze. I must have been staring, because it takes Haldir gently tapping my elbow to remind me to follow him from the room. Once in the hallway, I feel a little more clear-headed. “So was that magic?”

Haldir shrugs, striding down the long corridor. “Humans would think of it that way I suppose. Magic implies something special and ‘more than,’ though, and it’s not like that for elves. It is to be respected, yes, but it is simply the power in our spirits doing the work that calls to them. For Elrond, his spirit urges him to heal, so when he acts on it, he is more powerful than others who aren’t called to healing. I should mention that we say ‘spirit’ for your benefit. Elves use the term ‘fæ’. Simplified, it serves the same purpose as a spirit, but for elves, it plays more of an active role in our lives.”

I mull that over. It sounds reasonable enough. “So then what’s yours? What does your spirit—fæ want you to do?”

“Keep people safe. And if that means fighting, so be it.”

That seems consistent with what I know about him. Every action he takes seems driven by the desire to protect those around him. “What would happen if you ignored it? Say you wanted to be a healer like Baranor or Elrond.”

Haldir chuckles, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword as he walks. “I have tried before and I was not near as successful. I can perform the basics of healing—anyone can—but there’s no power within me to speed up the process or heal especially severe injuries like Elrond can. If I tried to attend to your arm in the same way he did, maybe it would have healed slightly faster? But as you saw with Elrond, he is capable of doing it in minutes.”

I begin to catch on. “Okay, so you can all learn whatever skills you want but the power to perform above and beyond at those skills lies in your fæ.”

He nods once. “Exactly.”

We turn a corner. “But what if you wanted to be a healer but you were born with the fæ of a fighter? Could you change it?”

Haldir takes a deep breath, his steps slowing slightly. I realize we are nearing the staircase that will take me to my room. “Short answer—no. An elf’s fæ is incredibly personal and incredibly fragile. Really, only two things can change an elf’s fæ: marriage and death. Long answer—you can ignore the desires of your fæ and nothing bad will happen to you so, technically, if I wanted, I could shun the need to keep my people safe and heal them instead. But I wouldn’t be any better at it than anyone else and I would feel unfulfilled because I wouldn’t be giving my fæ what it needs. Does that make sense?”

I nod, but something he glossed over jumps out at me. He said marriage can change an elf’s fæ, but from what I know, marriage isn’t always forever. People can separate, people can die, people can cheat. What then? “Marriage and death change a fæ how?”

A faraway look comes into his eye. “The two are basically interconnected. When elves get married, their fæs bond together in a way that cannot be undone. When it is—through death—the half of the fæ belonging to the dead elf essentially wilts and leaves the remaining fæ damaged.”

That sounds awful. “But what about divorce? Is that kinder to a fæ?”

Haldir smiles ruefully. “Divorce is something unique to humans. Elves live forever and we love only once. When we do decide to love another, the two fæs are literally entwined forever. So divorce is a physical possibility — the two can be separated, yes. But it would cause their fæs so much grief that it almost never happens. Spiritually though, the two are entwined until death, some argue even beyond then.”

I’m almost afraid to ask. “So, if one dies and the fæ is damaged…”

“The other fades. It is not just a physical death, but a spiritual one. They lose the will to live and eventually pass into nothing.”

I look at the ground. Haldir carries a pain in his voice that makes me wonder if he’s seen this happen before. With over three thousand years behind him, it’s likely that he has.

I attempt to veer to a safer subject. He said elves only love once and, as far as I know, Haldir isn’t married. I try to tease him a little to lighten the mood. “So you’ve never been in love?”

He raises an eyebrow, jerking his chin in my direction. “Have you?”

I shrug, climbing the staircase. “I wouldn’t remember.”

“I think you would.” We’re at the top now and I turn to see him looking not at me, but out one of the gaping archways showcasing the falls.

I let out a slow breath, thinking on his words. Would I, though? I mean, what if I’m here gallivanting with my new friends and I have someone at home mourning my loss, missing me? Do I owe it to him to make it back?

Feeling a weight settle on my shoulders, I take small, hesitant steps towards the archway, bringing me closer and closer to the fortified stone railing. I don’t look down—that would be too much—but I do rest my hands lightly against the wood, staring straight ahead at the curtain of frothy white and blue. Guilt as well as fear from being so close to the edge churn in my stomach. Am I a bad person for not remembering my love? Do I even have one?

I let out a shuddering breath, knowing I need something — reassurance or condemnation, I don’t know. I choose to give voice to my fears and trust Haldir to decide.

When I speak, my voice is not as solid as I would like, sounding instead shaky and fragile. “But what if I didn’t?” I swallow against the lump rising in my throat. “What if there’s someone in my world waiting for me and I can’t remember him?”

The sounds of boots clicking against stone echoes. A few seconds later, Haldir appears next to me, resting his hands on the railing, mirroring my viewing of the waterfall.

“An elf’s fæ gives them a measure of awareness. If you are really attuned to someone—love them, have a strong bond with them—your fæs will have a consciousness of each other, almost like they’re in communication. For example, I can see Rumil’s light and I know that he is content. I can feel Orophin’s joy practically bursting and I know how happy it makes him to be here with his love. And, while a human’s fæ isn’t as strong as an elf’s, you do have one. If I concentrate, I can see it. It’s faint, but it is there. All this to say,” he shakes his head slowly, turning his gaze to me. “If you had a love back home, your fæ would know.”

I slump in relief, leaning against the railing and closing my eyes so I cannot further frighten myself. If I had someone that I was bonded to, I would remember him — more than that, I would feel it in my soul. So, staying here…if it weren’t so dangerous…maybe it wouldn’t be bad.

“Haldir, Lady Cosima.” A confident voice at the end of the hall catches our attention.

Glorfindel, golden and gorgeous as ever, strides up to us, bowing deeply. He reaches for my hand and presses a kiss to its back, then straightens and winks—at me or Haldir, I can’t tell. “A human custom I thought I’d try. Not my cup of tea, but I do say I’ll try anything once.”

I bark out a shocked laugh, having not expected Glorfindel’s bold entrance. “Am I one of your experiments, then?”

“If you’d like to be.” He pumps his eyebrows suggestively, though, if what Haldir just explained to me is true for all elves, Glorfindel is only playing around.

Haldir rolls his eyes. “Are you ready to go?”

With a flair, Glorfindel gestures to his armored form. “So it seems. Is the Lady going to accompany us?”

I huff, not liking being cut out of the conversation. “No, ‘the Lady’ hopes to stay here and find breakfast.”

“Ah, it is on the path to the stables! Allow us to show you the way.” With that, Glorfindel strides down the hallway as quickly as he arrived.

Haldir shakes his head—whether in amusement or annoyance, I don’t know—but follows.

The three of us wind up in a large outdoor pavilion sheltered only by a wooden lattice rooftop woven with blue and white flowers. This must be the common dining hall Elrond mentioned last night. It’s relatively late in the morning but too early for the midday meal, so the pavilion is empty. I’m grateful—I’m not sure I could handle meeting a whole city’s worth of elves before I’ve gotten some food in me.

The use of the word causes a brief spark of shock to jolt through my chest. I just referred to them as ‘elves’.

But I cannot deny it any longer—somehow, it clicked. I am in a different world, and the people of this world are not all human. My friends are elves.

This decision to believe—though it is only one of many I must make—releases a weight from my chest. I suddenly feel much lighter, nearly giddy with freedom. I push forward and turn around to face the two ellyn who led me here, nodding with a measure of finality.

“You are elves.”

Glorfindel looks perplexed, but Haldir, for the first time since I’ve met him, looks surprised. His eyebrows shoot towards his hairline, his lips part from each other. I grin, very much enjoying the feeling of catching him off guard. He narrows his eyes slightly, seeming to inspect me for signs of teasing or a joke. I smile up at him, confident in my decision.

Glorfindel looks back and forth between what probably looks like an impromptu staring contest. “Yes…it must be time for you to eat. How often do humans need to eat, anyways?” He chatters on, leading us through the pavilion and into an auxiliary room — the kitchens. “I’ve heard horror stories of new humans needing to eat upwards of six times per day. How do its caretakers get anything done?”

As Glorfindel darts through the kitchen collecting what I assume to be leftovers and provisions for the trip, Haldir comes up beside me, looking almost unsure.

“You have accepted it, then?”

I nod, exhaling quickly. “I have. This isn’t a dream, this is real. Somehow I lived in my world and now I live in yours. And, though there’s no way for me to wrap my head around it, my new friends are elves.”

He smiles softly, hesitantly, and dips his head in acknowledgment of my statement. “I am glad.”

But, despite my momentary feeling of freedom, unease settles in my gut. Many more decisions lie ahead.

A/n Ooo so what do you think??? Likes, comments, and reblogs make me happy! Let me know if you would like a tag :) Also, if you’re bored, pop into my ask box and tell me something that makes you happy -- I’d love to know!

|next part|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff

[raineydaywrites]

Parent Trap(ped in an Umbrella)

hey friends. working on a new fic. blupcretia parent trap au, and here is a bit that may or may not eventually be the first chapter of it!

When Barry got a message from Lucretia, he had absolutely no idea how to respond. He was so angry with her, and he didn't understand why she was reaching out. Didn't she understand that he would have no part in her plan?

But then he listened to the message she left on his Stone- and she was in danger. And from the sound of her voice, she was in pain. And he just- he couldn't leave someone he loved in danger and in pain, even if he was angry with her. It went against his very nature. And besides, if she died, then he might never find out where she'd put the others or how to trigger their memories again. He still wasn't really sure how she'd remembered the information she'd fed to Fischer.

So he went to the location she'd contacted him from, and as soon as he laid eyes on the people who had taken her, he saw red. It had been... difficult to keep control of himself recently, and in front of these people who dared to touch someone he loved? He barely wanted to maintain control.

But he did- enough to not destroy himself anyway, and he killed the people who had hurt her, and he hurried back to the place where they were keeping her, afraid and angry and upset- a real coleslaw of emotions- and when he reached the door to her cell, his mind went absolutely blank as a new emotion swarmed him, overwhelming all the others for a second- shock.

Because Lucretia was chained to the wall on the other side of the cell, exposing her stomach- her very obviously pregnant stomach.

His mind whipped up a new coleslaw of emotions at the sight, but before he could react in any way, Lucretia spoke.

“Barry!” She sobbed his name more than said it, and that made a sharp pain lance through his heart.

“Lucretia,” he responded, hurrying to her side now that he’d gotten his wits together enough to realize that he needed to get her out of here.

Another flash of rage as he broke her chains because who tied up a pregnant woman? It was just barbaric really.

“What’s wrong, Lucretia? What do you need?” Barry asked, because he couldn’t talk about his anger at her actions when she was in this state, so it was better to focus on what he could do instead of staying frozen.

“I- I think the baby’s coming,” Lucretia said, sending a jolt of adrenaline down Barry’s spine.

“Shit, okay. Um, do you have a healer or something? Someone who can help?” he asked.

Lucretia shook her head, breaths coming fast and harsh.

“Breathe, hon,” Barry said, the endearment slipping out without him meaning to say it. It was just- so hard to see his loved ones in pain, even when he was angry with them. It had always been that way for him and it was still true now.

The words seemed to help anyway, Lucretia's breath slowing marginally. He helped her to stand, but when she was up, she wouldn't let him walk her away from the cell, which he didn't understand for a moment until she made a pained noise that turned into a scream and he realized that she was having contractions.

She was having contractions because she was pregnant. His (ex?) girlfriend was pregnant. And judging by the fact that she was already in labor, then she must have already been pregnant the last time that he'd seen her, though it would have been pretty early in.

Which meant that this was his and Lup's baby too. He was going to be a father soon.

Once the contraction was over, Barry picked Lucretia up- they weren't going to get out of here very easily if she could hardly walk, and he had no idea how long she'd been in labor or how close she was to actually having the baby, so they needed to get a move on.

"We'll have to find a healer then," Barry said, trying to remember where the nearest town was from here, and if it would be large enough to have a decent selection of healers or if he should try to seek out a different nearby town.

Lucretia just nodded, teeth gritted, and Barry tried to be gentle as he carried her out of there. She'd been through some shit recently, if the fact that she was in a cell was any indication, and the shit wasn't over with yet, because she still had to push a real, actual human, or potentially, half-elf out of her body, which was not going to be a fun or easy time.

He made it to town, and ignored the way that everyone reacted in fear to the sight of him, shouting that they needed a healer. It helped that Lucretia broke her silence to assure the people around them that he wasn't a danger to her or anyone else. It didn't completely stop the fear, but it calmed it down a little, especially seeing as how he was assisting a heavily pregnant woman get to a healer. Not exactly common evil spectre behavior.

Still, the person who offered them directions seemed wary of him, watching him carefully as he brought Lucretia over to the healer’s hut. He ignored that. It didn’t matter because they’d gotten him where he needed to go.

The healer apparently specialized in pregnancies and births, and therefore was perfectly used to being woken up in the night to assist with labor, though her calm expression did falter at the sight of Barry.

She didn’t let it stick though, directing him to lay Lucretia down on a nearby cot.

“How long have you been having contractions?” she asked Lucretia, brisk and business like as she gathered supplies.

“I’m not exactly sure. A few hours?” Lucretia guessed.

The midwife nodded, and asked a few other basic questions, before moving over to Lucretia and inspecting her with her hands and eyes, getting a feel for the situation.

“And is this the proper time or are they early or late?” she asked.

“They’re a bit early,” Lucretia said, which prompted Barry to shoot her a worried look. That wasn’t good. 

Lucretia met his gaze as she continued to answer the question. “But no more than a week or so,” she assured them both.

“Can you walk? It will go easier if you can walk a bit, but if you can’t, we can handle that just fine too,” the healer said.

Lucretia nodded, leveraging herself upward and Barry moved to help her automatically because Lucretia could be too stubborn for her own good sometimes, and he didn’t want her to hurt herself or the baby because she tried to do something she actually couldn’t handle.

The baby. They were going to have a baby. There were so many things to think about with that, but for the moment, all he could do was feel.

And what he felt was his heart aching and soaring at the same time. It hurt to think about the fact that they could have had the rest of their family around for this if Lucretia hadn’t wiped their memories. It hurt to think about the fact that Lup should be here for this too, and yet she wasn’t. It hurt to think about the fact that he wasn’t sure what his relationship to the baby would be- if he would ever be able to see them, if their plans failed and they had to leave this plane and their baby behind, then what-

But at the same time- he was going to be a father. Someone he loved was giving birth to their child and that was so, so good. A tiny little life that they’d made together, with Lup. How could that be anything but happy?

He stayed with Lucretia as the labor progressed because he couldn’t leave without seeing his child. He even let her cling to him when the labor pains got too intense, because even though she’d hurt him with her actions, seeing her scream in pain with no comfort hurt too.

And eventually, the midwife announced that she could see the baby, and the end was in sight.

Lucretia focused on getting them out, and she screamed and clung to his form- one benefit of being in lich form for this was the fact that she couldn't actually hurt him like this, because she was definitely squeezing hard, not that he could blame her for that.

And then the baby was out of her and into the world and they were screaming in displeasure at being there, but the two of them couldn't be happier about it.

The midwife promptly plopped them into Lucretia's arms, which, right, Barry had read something once about skin to skin contact being important when a baby is born, so he wouldn't complain about her getting to hold their baby first. Also, she'd done significantly more work to get them here, so she'd probably earned that right, even if he hadn't been feeling very charitable about what she deserved recently.

Besides, surely she'd let him hold the baby at some point, right? Even with his currently fractured trust in her, he didn't think she'd be so cruel as to refuse him a chance to even hold his child. He wasn't sure- he didn't know how things would work with the child from this point onward, but she couldn't deny him the chance to hold them even once.

He tried to shake off the gloomy thoughts, leaning in closer to Lucretia and the baby. The baby had warm brown skin closer to Lucretia's tone than either his or Lup's, though they were still a fair bit paler than her. Barry wasn't sure how much of that was down to genetics and how much was down to the fact that they had never been exposed to sunlight before, but he hoped he'd get a chance to find out.

They were so small. And like, he knew that newborns were small, obviously, but that didn't stop his brain from working overdrive trying to just understand- how a living person could be so small? It was so far from what he was used to that he would have sworn his brain was playing tricks on him, but no matter how long he looked at them, they stayed the same. Tiny and precious.

And finally, he looked to their face, eyes closed and expression slack with relaxation now that they'd had a moment to get used to the world. He couldn't say he really saw any recognizable inherited traits in their features, but he'd always kind of thought that those comments after a baby was born were just a social nicety anyway.

Or rather, he did notice one inherited feature. The baby had tiny but recognizably elven ears. So biologically Lup's child then. Not that it mattered, because they were still his either way.

"Barry, look at them," Lucretia murmured in awe, even though he already was. It didn't bother him, really. Nothing could bother him right now, honestly.

"I know," he whispered back. "You did so good, Lucy. Job well done!"

He was still angry with her, of course, but it was buried for the moment under everything else he felt, and he had never been the kind of person to try and hold onto anger when he could avoid it anyway.

"It doesn't feel done," Lucretia said, exhaustion lining her tone. "It still hurts so much?"

"Yes, ma'am, that's gonna keep happening until you get the placenta out, and you'll certainly be sore for a while after. It'll be easier now though," the midwife assured. "Though, of course, there is always the possibility..."

She ducked back down to inspect Lucretia again, and a thought occurred to both Barry and Lucretia in the same moment. This was biologically Lup's child. And Lup was a twin. Was there any chance that...

Lucretia made another long, pained sound, her body clenching tight, and when she finished, she shoved the baby into Barry's hold to avoid accidentally squeezing them.

Despite his earlier certainty that he needed to hold his baby at some point, Barry still felt a jolt of absolute panic at suddenly having them in his arms. Irrationally, he was afraid his form would shift and he would drop them, even though accidentally letting his body phase around things and then dropping them wasn't a problem that he'd had since his earliest days of lichdom.

Still, unable to ease the fear, he sat down on the floor, figuring that at least from there, they couldn't fall very far.

It didn't take long for the midwife to confirm that yes, there was another baby arriving here today, and they repeated the process from earlier, except with Lucretia now holding tightly to what passed for a shoulder on Barry's lich form, since his hands were no longer within reach.

And then the second baby was here, and they cried, which prompted the baby in Barry's arms to cry too, and then the second baby was being held by Lucretia, and Barry stood up to take a good look at this one as well.

He still didn't like standing to hold the baby, and he wanted to make sure that this one got the actual, proper amount of skin-to-skin contact, instead of just what they'd been able to squeeze in before their twin started demanding attention, but he also didn't really want to stop holding the baby either, so he nudged Lucretia gently to the side, now that she was no longer actively in labor, and settled onto the cot beside her.

There was a decent amount of room, so he didn't feel too squished in, even while trying to give Lucretia a bit of distance, but there wasn't a lot of extra space, and he still didn't have skin to offer their child, so he curled himself closer, positioning the baby to be able to lay on him while still touching Lucretia as much as possible.

The second baby looked almost identical to the first, though Barry couldn't identify whether that was because they were actually identical, or just because they were siblings and babies don't have many particularly reliable ways of being distinguished from other babies at the best of times.

It didn't really matter, because they were here, and they were his, and he loved them so much, and how was he supposed to think to ask questions like that when he'd just experienced something so amazing?

The midwife brought over some soft strands of fabric, offering them out to the two of them.

"These will help you keep them straight in your mind. You can tie one on the left arm, one the right, on the leg and arm, write names on them when you decide, whatever helps you keep track," she explained.

"Thank you," Barry said, taking both strands because Lucretia seemed to be much too tired to offer much in the way of conversation.

Barry followed the given advice, carefully wrapping one strand around the left arm of the baby he was holding, then reaching over to swap them out and tie the other strand on the right arm of the second baby.

Lucretia didn't protest the switch, looking like she was halfway to falling asleep, and really, that was absolutely reasonable. Her arms still held the baby closely, but even that grip was softening slowly as she drifted closer and closer to sleep. That was okay. Barry would make sure she didn't drop them when she finally dropped off fully.

When her arms eventually went slack, the baby didn't move, safe in the middle of her chest, but Barry still picked them up and held them to himself anyway.

"Hi there," he whispered softly, an almost reverent quiet overtaking him. "I'm your dad."

The babies certainly couldn't understand him, though their ears twitched slightly at the sound of his voice. Mostly though, they seemed content to lay there in his arms, comfortable and certain of their safety. Not understanding the complexity of the situation that they had been born into.

Barry looked over to Lucretia, sighing softly. Today's truce would be nothing more than temporary. It couldn't be anything but, when they were both still so certain that their own plan was the best option.

Which left him wondering what would happen with the babies. Lucretia would take good care of them, he was sure, but he didn't want to leave them. He wanted to be a part of their lives, even if he couldn't go along with Lucretia's plan.

It occurred to him, briefly, that Lucretia couldn't stop him if he just took the twins and ran- but he shook the thought out of his mind before it even fully formed. He couldn't do that- couldn't steal his children's chance to know their remaining mother, and couldn't steal Lucretia's children from her just because he was scared.

They'd figure something out. For the kids, they could make something work.

[argylemnwrites]

Facts, Fibs, and Futures

Pairing: Mal Volari x MC (Raina - f!human)

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow (Chapter 4)

Word Count: ~3300

Rating: PG-13 (innuendo)

Summary: A evening of games, cards, and fortune-telling gives Mal a better understanding of Raina.

Author’s Note: Wish I had time to do more for @bladesappreciationweek, but happy to have at least snuck this piece in under the wire for Day 7 - MC/wildcard. It’s a little bit about my MC, a little about the gang in their early days, and a little glimpse at some early Mal/MC flirtation.

“...And so I convinced the Contessa of Ditorilla that I was merely a figment of her imagination, conjured up by her deepest desires.”

Raina couldn’t help but snort as she caught the tail end of the undoubtedly false story Mal was spinning for Nia and Tyril as she walked towards them on the deck. She’d been staring at the horizon, trying to calm her stomach. She didn’t want to admit it and give Mal more of a reason to see her as naive, a kit with no experience, but the truth was that the rocking of Gerhard’s ship on the waves left her fairly nauseous. She hoped she would get used to the sensation soon, but in the meantime, she had to resort to attempting simple solutions. Hopefully, the hour she just spent by herself along the railing would be seen as her just wanting to take in the ocean. Not that that would make her seem any less like a damn kit.

“Based on Raina’s reaction, I am going to go with ‘fib’ on that tale.” Tyril’s voice floated through the air, drawing Raina out of her introspection.

“Come on, Kit. It’s bad enough that you are shockingly skilled at this, but now you have to ruin it for me when you aren’t even playing?” She stopped and glanced over at Mal, tipping back in his chair, one foot braced against the deck, the other resting on the edge of the table where he was sitting with Nia and Tyril. When they made eye contact, he winked at her before placing his hand on his chest in mock pain.

“Raina, you should join us!” Nia called out, twisting around in her chair to flash a bright smile.

“Yes, please do,” added Tyril. “This… ruffian has convinced us to play some sort of game where we have to determine whether a statement is the truth or a lie.”

“Yeah, Fib or Fact,” Raina said as she sat down in the free chair between Nia and Tyril, “but you aren’t really playing unless you are drinking.”

“See! Thank you! I told you guys this was a drinking game!” Mal cried out, gesturing across the table to Raina with a flourish. 

Tyril shook his head briskly. “I do not understand the human fascination with needing to create banal games to drink.”

“I don’t know; I think it’s just a fun way to pass the time.” Raina glanced over to her left and gave Tyril a little shrug.

“But we know Elf Boy here would rather die than have fun.”

Tyril opened his mouth, but before he could respond, Nia cut in. “Please, we can’t be at each other’s throats constantly.”

Tyril glanced between Nia and Mal, the openingly-mocking grin plastered on Mal’s face clearly fueling the fire that Nia was trying to extinguish. After a few tense and silent seconds, he gave a terse little nod. “Fine, but if I have to listen to any more stories of his romantic... conquests, I make no promises.”

Nia let out a little sigh. “Good. Well, maybe we should pick a different game anyway, since Raina is always right at this one.”

“Is that so?”

Raina smiled and tilted her head to the side. “I’m very good at reading people. Particularly his Magnificence over there.” She gestured across the table towards Mal, who plastered a fake shocked expression on his face, eyebrows raised and eyes wide, as he mouthed “Me?” before grinning and shooting Raina a wink.

“They played quite a bit on our journey to Port Parnassus,” Nia added. “I think Mal only got her four or five times.”

“Well, nevermind then. Let’s keep playing,” Tyril said, leaning back slightly and crossing his arms, the corners of his lips quirking upwards as he glanced back at Mal.

“Nah, don’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities with my more scandalous accounts,” he responded, waggling his eyebrows.

“Does anyone know any other games we could play? I don’t know if I want to gamble again.” Nia said, clearly trying to move past any sniping between the two males of their little party. 

“Awww, priestess. Didn’t enjoy your first taste of betting?”

Her cheeks flushed as she shook her head. “I don’t think it’s for me, Mal.”

"Just you wait. We'll bring out your wild side one of these days," Mal said, winking at Nia before giving her a very genuine looking smile. "Since cards are out, does anyone have any other ideas?"

Tyril didn't move to suggest anything, sitting still, his arms still locked across his armor. Nia kept glancing around the group, a hopeful gleam in her eyes that made it clear that she was counting on someone else to offer up an idea.

Raina found her mind drifting to Kade. He always knew how to entertain a group. He could tell stories, pull out random facts and tidbits of info. He just kept the conversation flowing.

"Maybe we can still use the cards," she said, tilting her head to the side. "My brother would sometimes use the deck to tell fortunes. I think I remember the basics."

"I can do you one better than that, Kit. I happen to be a fortune telling expert." Mal was grinning widely as he shuffled the deck while he stared her down.

"Really." Tyril's deadpan answer conveyed extreme skepticism.

"Yes, really. Are you doubting my skills?”

“As a rule, yes. But doubly so here, seeing as you lack any ability to channel the Light.”

“Don’t need your Light to do this, just pure intuition. So how about it, Elf Boy? Want a chance to glimpse into your future?”

Raina thought Tyril might unsheathe his blade right there, but after a moment he merely shook his head and pushed his chair back as he stood up rapidly. “I’ll pass. Goodnight, Nia. Raina. Vagrant.” And with that he was off, heading below deck without a glance back. Nia looked worried at his rapid departure, but Mal seemed utterly unfazed, leaning forward and letting the front legs of his chair fall to the deck as he spun to face Nia.

“What about you, priestess? Care to see what’s in store for you?”

“Oh! I think I would rather just watch, if you don’t mind.”

“I guess that leaves you, Kit. You up for it, or are you scared of what the cards might hold?”

Raina laughed, leaning across the table and grabbing the cards from his hand. “Oh, I definitely want to see this.”

Mal chuckled in response. “Alright, you’re going to need to pick out seven cards and-”

“Lay them out in a row in front of me; I know.”

“Wow, talk about pushy! You aren’t even giving me the chance to explain how this works to poor Nia.” Mal’s tone was light and carefree, making it clear he had no qualms about letting her get started.

“Seeing how much you love to hear your own voice, I just figured I would actually get to work while you talked her ear off,” Raina replied, throwing Mal a teasing smile as she shuffled the cards and placed one slightly to the left in front of her.

Nia giggled as Mal clutched his shirt and gasped in exaggerated shock. “Raina, you wound me.”

“Something tells me you’ll survive that devastating blow. Nia, have you ever seen this done before?”

She shook her head, watching as Raina placed cards down one by one in a row.

“It’s pretty simple, really,” Raina said, shuffling the deck again before selecting her next card. “I’m supposed to select seven cards that ‘speak to me’ and place them face down in front of me. The first two are said to represent elements of my past, the middle three my present, and the final two my future.”

“Does it work?”

“Of course! Don’t you trust me? Would I make something up?”

“Constantly,” said Nia, causing Raina and Mal to both burst out laughing.

“Slowly but surely, we’ll get you out of your Drakna shell, priestess. It’s inevitable,” said Mal before taking the remaining cards back from Raina. “You happy with your seven?”

“Just get started, Mal. Let’s see if you can back up your bragging with some action.”

“What type of action are you interested in, Kit? Cause I can do a lot-”

“-That’ll make Nia feel real uncomfortable. So how about we stick to the fortune telling for now.”

“For now? Oh, I can work with that,” he said with a wink before pointing to the card Raina had set further to the left. “Alright, first card here is the Base Card. It reflects your origins, your roots.” Mal flipped the card over, showing a village burning, humans crying in the streets, causing Raina’s breath to catch in her throat for just a second.

“The Destruction,” she finally said, trying to hide her shock.

“Yeah. Obviously not a very happy card. In this position, it usually means death and tragedy.”

It was a very fitting card for someone orphaned in a bandit massacre. Raina didn’t quite know how to process it. She didn’t put much stock in things like this. In fact, when she’d watched Kade do this before, he’d never had something so… perfect come up. He usually had to spin things with some very nebulous interpretations to make the cards even remotely work for the person in front of him. But Mal had stumbled into an accurate first card for this reading, and he knew nothing about that part of her past.

“Raina, is that-” Nia started, but she stopped abruptly. Raina glanced up from the card to see Mal shaking his head subtly. Given his reluctance to discuss his own history, it made sense that he could recognize a similar desire in her at this moment.

“Keep going.” Raina said after a few seconds of tense silence. Mal only paused for a second more before he kept going.

“Second card is the Core Card. It is still about your past, but it focuses more on the personal, the fundamentals of your personality more than your background.” He turned over the next card and started laughing as what could best be described as two elves in a very intimate embrace was revealed.

“The Passion. Tell me, Kit - you have a lot of heartbroken lovers pining for you back in Riverbend?”

Raina chuckled, glancing up and staring Mal straight in the eye. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Absolutely,” he said without missing a beat, causing Raina to laugh in earnest and Nia to cough into her Bristlegreen tea.

“Let’s just say I have no objections to your reading so far,” Raina said with a smirk. Mal joined in laughing at that, while Nia’s cheeks flushed very dark.

“I think I might turn in,” she said, placing one of her hands against her cheek, her bracelet catching the moonlight.

“Aww, sorry priestess. I promise this is the most scandalous card in the deck,” Mal said, giving Nia a contrite little nod.

Nia glanced between Mal and Raina before shaking her head. “No, it’s alright. I’m rather tired, and something tells me the innuendo will find a way to come back with you two.”

“Nia, we’re sorry.”

“Yeah, we can keep it clean… or at least mostly clean,” Mal added with a little shrug that was probably meant as an apology.

But Nia just shook her head. “It’s fine. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” She gave them both a gentle smile before standing up, waving as she made her way below deck to their shared quarters.

“And then there were two,” said Mal. “You want to keep going, or do-”

“Of course,” said Raina. “You promised me a glimpse at my future. I expect you to deliver.”

Mal grinned before shifting his hand towards the third card positioned in front of Raina. “This position is the Breaking Card. It’s supposed to represent the turning point that takes you from your past to your present.”

“Kade always said the Breaking Card represented the transition from childhood to adulthood when he did this.”

Mal shook his head. “Sometimes that’s the case, but it is more about growing up in the abstract, not literally aging.” He flipped over the card, revealing an unbalanced scale.

“The Unjust? What is that supposed to mean here?”

“It is usually interpreted to mean an imbalance and loss of stability, an upsetting of how life had been. Sometimes it refers to political upheaval or a change in power structure, but it can also be more personal, like a messy break up or the loss of the family business-”

“Or the entrapment of a brother in the Shadow Realm?”

He glanced up at her, wincing a little bit. “Uhh, yeah. That would apply here.” He moved as if to grab her hand, but apparently thought better of it, dropping his fingers to the table and tapping them restlessly a few times instead. “Do you want to stop, Raina?”

She shook her head. “This reading feels shockingly accurate. Who would I be to turn down a chance at knowing my future?”

He nodded, then moved to the middle card. “Alright, so the middle position is considered the Drive Card. It reflects the biggest event of your present.” The card he flipped over showed white light pouring from above colliding in the center with dark smoke from below. It was the Morality, the card that everyone who did readings like this interpreted as a conflict between good and evil forces.

“Well, that’s easy enough to interpret. Battle between light and dark has to represent our taking on the Shadow Court. Keep going.”

“Woah, I thought I was the one doing this reading, Kit.”

Raina smiled and shrugged. “I told you Kade liked to do this around the tavern. Besides, I’m far more interested in the outcome of the Drive Card,” she said, tapping next to the sixth card.

“Ahh, yes. The Reckoning Card. But first we need to see your Key Card to figure out what part of your present is going to be most important for your future. Shape your journey going forward.” He revealed the Twins, a male and female orc with nearly identical features.

“Well I knew the accuracy couldn’t last,” Raina said with a little laugh. “I know for a fact I don’t have a long lost twin waiting for me out there.”

Mal shook his head. “No one interprets this card so literally, Kit. It usually thought to indicate meeting someone with a… similar soul.” He paused before finishing that thought, almost as if trying to find a less emotional phrasing.

“I’m surprised your head didn’t explode from saying something so sentimental.”

“Hey, I don’t make the rules! I’m just the messenger.”

“Uh huh. So I’m going to meet someone very like me and they’re going to define the rest of my life?”

“Yeah, that’s a fair interpretation of this card in that position.”

“So, you’re saying I’m going to meet someone else with a drive for adventure and to see as much of the realm as possible and what? Go into business with them?”

Mal took a sip of his ale without breaking eye contact. “Possibly. The key card is usually read in a more passionate light than that, though.”

“Is this considered a romantic card then?” Raina found herself staring at Mal, unable to break his gaze. 

“For humans, yes. The Key Card in general is often considered to be a romantic card. Or at least it usually gets interpreted that way.”

“So I’m going to fall for my fellow adventurer?”

He kept looking right at her as he said, “Well, that would be the most common way the Twins are read in this situation.”

Things suddenly felt tense and loaded, far more expectant than they had any right to be. Not wanting to dwell on the implications of that card, Raina looked to diffuse the moment. “Of course, given that my Core Card was the Lovers, it might just be that I flirt with this adventurer until the next best thing comes along.” Raina knew she was ignoring the fact that the Key Card was supposed to carry the reading from the present to the future, but she didn’t know how to process the depth of such a statement. Not now, when so much was left to do to defeat the Shadow Court and to save Kade. And certainly not when she was staring at the person she felt more similar to than anyone else she’d met in a long time.

Mal seemed to sense her desire to not address the realities and details of such a prediction, instead laughing at her joke. “Love ‘em and leave ‘em your style, too?”

She smirked as she gave him a coy little shrug. “No comment.”

“Fair enough. I want stories later though, Kit.”

Raina waved him off and shook her head. “Just finish my reading, Mal.”

“A valid subject change, I’ll grant you that. So, you already told me that you know that the Reckoning Card represents the eventual outcome of the Drive Card. Ready to see how things go on your mission of doom?”

She rolled her eyes, but nodded. With how attuned this whole reading had been, she found herself eager to see the next card, almost believing it might actually represent their future.

Mal pulled the card toward him, drawing out the reveal. “Huh,” was all he said before placing the card face up in front of her.

“The Double-Edged Sword?”

“Yeah.”

“Does that mean we defeat the Shadow Court?”

Mal shrugged. “This card usually reflects either a desired outcome at a high price, or a wish come true that causes a new set of problems.”

“So not exactly the greatest card for the Reckoning Card.”

“But not the worst either. It’s often portrayed as a mixed outcome. Most tellers would interpret this as reflecting success when it comes to the Shadow Court, but either after suffering some steep consequences or having to traipse through all three hells. That sort of thing."

“Well, I guess that’s better than outright defeat.”

“That’s the spirit! Surviving by the skin of your teeth is all you need, anyway! Easy success is overrated.”

“And highly unlikely?”

“Yeah, that too. You ready for your final card?”

“Hit me with it.”

“Alright, so the final position is the Unwinding Card. It’s supposed to represent the overall course of your life once you’ve fully moved out of the present.” Mal flipped the final card over, showing a golden, gleaming, cup, letting out a little whistle as he saw it.

“The Golden Chalice feels like a good card here.”

“It’s a great one, Kit. It represents comfort, pleasure, contentment. In this position, it’s basically saying your life will be filled with all you could want in the future.”

Raina nodded. “Well, at least it seems like no matter what the Shadow Court deals us, we come out of it alright. Unless you are just an awful fortune teller.”

Mal chuckled at that, sliding the seven cards back into his deck. “I make no promises for the accuracy of these predictions.”

“Where did you learn how to do this anyway?”

Raina noticed that he swallowed roughly as he tucked the cards back into his sack. “That’s a story for another time,” he said finally. “You ready to call it a night?”

She shook her head. “Not just yet."

"You want any company?"

Raina gave him a smile and nodded. “Sure, that would be nice.”

And so he moved over into the chair next to her, following her gaze as she looked up at the stars. The silence was comfortable and easy and for several moments, she just soaked in the night sky.

“So really, how many jilted lovers are we talking for you?” Mal’s teasing question pulled Raina out of her thoughts. 

She laughed and shook her head. “Let it go, Mal. Some facts are just better left unmentioned.”

“Fair enough, Kit. Fair enough.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perma: @walkerswhiskeygirl @octobereighth @kimmiedoo5 @mom2000aggie

Blades: @marshmallowsandfire

Mal x MC: @anotherbeingsworld​

[dottiechan]

Tempest (Pt. 4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |  Part 5  

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Pairing: Ava Du Mortain x f!Detective

Wordcount: 2177

Warnings: mentions of death, smoking

Summary: Ava’s handler has information that will turn her lengthy mission upside down - along with her heart.

Lady Ashbury’s parlour, London, 1898

“You’re ridiculously torpid this afternoon, Ava.”

The hostess’ words ring clear in her ear and she almost flinches - not like the others can hear them. Nate has taken it upon himself to entertain Lady Ashbury’s guests when Ava turned even more sullen and laconic than she usually would in a setting such as this. Afternoon tea wasn’t exactly her scene after all. Nor was being parted from the private detective in such a hurried, unplanned manner as the invitation that simply could not be refused was thrust upon her this morning by a note from Lady Ashbury. Letters such as that hold no importance to her at all normally. She doesn’t socialise. She doesn’t attend parties, or put on a show for the sake of being thought of as ‘pleasant,’ whatever that is supposed to mean these days.

But it would have been impossible to ignore her handler’s request.

“You said it was urgent, Lady Ashbury.” Ava folds her arms almost petulantly as she gazes out the window, refusing to look at the older vampire clad in a divine tea gown of showy green silk and soft cotton frills.

“Had I known this lengthy assignment would make you so surly, I would have invited you to my gatherings more often.” The sentence passes from the socialite’s parted red lips, and the corners of her mouth twitch upward in a way Ava can’t help but feel secretly mocked. “Oh, don’t frown like that! Or else we will all die of your ennui. I have great news, great news indeed! But I see no reason why we shouldn’t have an equally pleasant afternoon to ourselves before we talk business.”

“Half of your guests are not even of the Agency,” murmurs Ava, her disapproving glance sweeping over the almost gaudily overdecorated room. Eventually, her eyes settle on Nate serving tea cakes to some of the ladies, all refined charm and long fingers and even longer smiles, and a pang of guilt runs through her when she realises that her old friend is actually enjoying himself, thriving and basking in the plenitude of attention he is showered with. She’s been so absorbed in her love for the detective that she nearly haven’t had enough time for him as of late.

“All previously settled engagements, of course. I’m sure you understand how rude it would have been of me to entreat them not to come,” Ashbury lies fluidly, yet her brown eyes glint with a mocking light that betrays her immediately and on purpose. She delights in the tensing of the muscles in Ava’s jaw.

“Of course.”

“Now don’t be so uncouth, or else I will be the talk of every party and club for the coming weeks about the questionable company I keep,” Catherine Ashbury shakes her head stubbornly, dark locks bouncing defiantly as she links their arms and tugs Ava away from the window. They walk down the long parlour slowly, close enough to the guests that they feel like they’re part of the occasion, and yet far away for their conversation to remain private.

“You’re already the talk of London, Lady Ashbury,” Ava retaliates, almost suavely wrapping her jest in a cloak of concern. “Thirty years you have been here, and thirty years you haven’t aged a day.”

“Some of us are just lucky in that regard, aren’t we?” the hostess grins at Ava. “Unlike these poor ladies here... Or even your private detective. They’re young now, but they’ll whither away soon like roses in the winter. Such a waste. Just like this whole operation has been, if you pardon my frankness. I understand her protection was part of the deal the Agency made with the Police Commissioner, but such a waste of resources this endeavour has been! Our top agents, wasted on the protection of one human. I’ve always appreciated your practical thinking, so I know you must feel the same way as I do. And to be stuck in it for two whole years...! Well, I’m sure you will be relieved to learn the rumours I’ve been hearing lately.”

Ava awakens from her listless silence when Catherine Ashbury ceases to prate about the question of mortality and baits her into enquiring more about the mysterious little sentence she dropped at the end of her speech. She schools her features into an emotionless mask even as her heart begins to fill with uncertainty and fear, painfully aware of Ashbury’s almost predatory gaze fixed on her at all times. “Do they have to do anything with our mission?”

“Would you be intrigued if I said yes?” Catherine asks, red lips curving into a satisfied smile when she notices her quickening pulse. “Alright then. Mind you, these are only rumours, and you didn’t hear them from me... But it is said that the Agency wants to form permanent working units - much like your partnership with Nathaniel, only in teams of four and with greater autonomy than what is usually granted to field agents. I hear the top squad has already been assembled - and utilised. Here, in London. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“What could possibly be their objective here?” Ava frowns as they walk slowly, Ashbury leading the way to the small balcony facing a lush park of green fenced in by equally posh buildings as the one they’re in right now. “I haven’t been alerted of any major supernatural activity here, save for the rouge dark elf, of course.”

“Ah, there you go, spoiling the surprise,” Catherine sighs, finally giving up her maddening secrecy as she takes a deep breath, the crisp air chilling her lungs in the most effervescent way. Or is it the anticipation radiating off of her agent in waves as great as ocean tides? It is an exhilarating game, reading others, playing with words and watching the body betray the mind as it answers all questions so truthfully. She is only the temporary handler of the two agents, and has been that for two years straight now, but a sudden recognition manifests in her heart - as difficult and disagreeable and perfectly unpleasant Ava can be sometimes (the very opposite of her companion) she will miss her. She thinks her a remarkable entity, a true novelty among the cheap copies upon copies of women who thoughtlessly sacrifice their truest parts on the altar of hypocrisy and vanity, until no vestige remains of their original self. To know Ava is to face a lot of uncomfortable but all the more truthful feelings - one can decide to despise Ava for it, but the wise learn to look within.

Though Lady Ashbury may not look it, she is old. Older than Ava, and certainly older than youthful, handsome Nathaniel. And she feels old too, the debauchery of her long centuries and the dishonest little games that made up her life ageing her soul prematurely. But when Ava speaks...! When Ava speaks, her throat becomes the well, and her words truth, and she shames mankind in the most delicious way. Like that splendid painting by Jean-Léon Gérôme, La Vérité sortant du puits armée de son martinet pour châtier l’humanité. Truth Coming Out of Her Well to Shame Mankind. A painting she wishes she could procure for herself.

And Ava. A woman Catherine wishes she met when she was still herself.

But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. The demise of the rogue dark elf is only part of the rumours circulating in the Agency about Ava’s involvement during her latest assignment. Or about Ava herself, and her career, for that matter.

“Speak plainly, Catherine,” Ava almost pleads, her diplomatic facade slipping up to reveal a shade of fear in the green of her eyes. Ashbury wishes nothing but to descend upon Ava’s connection to the private detective like a vulture until she realises the rumours have more truth to them than even those who maliciously spread it could imagine. She hasn’t a shred of doubt about Du Mortain’s feelings for the human woman now, her initial doubt obliterated by every sign in Ava’s body language as they stand so close to each other on the small balcony overlooking the beautiful Cornwall Gardens. Ava is a clever woman, capable on jobs, willing to take on risks no one else would dare. And more importantly, she is aware of her strengths too - and thus her self-aware nature marks her as superior to all the other humble little agents. She must know what Catherine is about to tell her - with the task forces forming, and the first such group striking in a place none other than London, she must know that it is only a matter of time before the rogue is dealt with. Before she’d be given an assignment and a position befitting someone of her talents.

And here she stands, this brilliant woman in all her glory, terrified of a promotion that would have put a smile on her stern face two years ago.

“As I said, you didn’t hear this from me,” Lady Ashbury resigns, a little sullen at being robbed of her smug pleasure all of a sudden. “But I know for a fact that your current assignment is drawing to a swift conclusion as we speak. And rumour has it, you are destined for greater things once it is over.”

“Greater things,” Ava echoes, her whole being feeling hollow. Around the detective, she forgot about the world, to be honest. And it seems like she is about to pay the price for her two years of blissful ignorance. She always knew the mission would end, and yet in a strange way she didn’t really believe it. It’s like how people know they are mortal, and yet feel so much entitlement to life that when death comes for them, they have the audacity to appear shocked.

Ava has no illusions. This is a goodbye, not an opportunity. Nate may think that bringing in the private detective is a reasonable step, but Ava will do everything in her power to prevent her from learning who she is, what they are, what the last two years have been about. They were never right for each other. She was never right. And if she leaves now, maybe she can draw that conclusion too.

“My dear, everything you’ve done up to this point is in the past now. And it is best to leave a dead thing in the ground.” Catherine’s plummy honeyed words have an admonitory yet sad edge to them. It is a warning about the detective, and what clinging to her could mean to her career, with an undertone of genuine empathy uncharacteristic to Lady Ashbury. She inspects the woman to her right, a dark speck against the grey sky, and feels honest to god sympathy - and emotion she hasn’t felt in decades. Maybe it is good she will no longer be her handler, Ashbury thinks as she lights a cigarette. She felt too many real things ever since Ava came into her perfectly splendid and dull life, tearing apart the walls of hedonism and debauchery she’s built around herself. But that is a goodbye that can wait.

“Congratulations, Commanding Agent Du Mortain.”

Catherine watches Ava from the balcony still as she purposefully cuts across the Cornwall Gardens, stomping the prized lawn of the old Mr Thomas Broadwood Junior in the process as that sweet Nathaniel treads on her heels ever so loyally. They must be headed for Cromwell Road which will no doubt have available hansoms for them to hail. Not that they need them, but if they are going to Whitechapel, which she is certain of, they need to travel the old fashioned way for appearance’s sake.

The tea gown is too flimsy for her to stay outside for much longer, so she heads inside, cheer and conversation and the wonderfully lukewarm sensation that only pointless small talk can elicit wrapping her in a blanket of comfort instantly. And Lady Ashbury is finally home.

On the other side of London, a woman is losing the only home she’s ever had in centuries. How many lives can she save if she goes along with the Agency’s plans for her? Surely the detective isn’t worth all that. (She is. Her rationale may deny it, but she knows she is worth all that and more to her. And she ignores it anyway.)

Ava will go on loving her in every following decade, in every language she knows, with every breath she takes. She marries duty, and allows death to make a martyr of her lover left behind. Turn her into her very own memento mori.

And in the end, the agent isn’t completely mistaken - something will indeed claim the private detective’s very soul. But it will not be as serene as eternal sleep, as Ava keeps believing. No, it is not death that claims the detective after all.

Even though sometimes even she wishes it were that simple. That peaceful. That freeing.

But there is no rest for the wicked.

[cas-kingdom]

The Dwarf and the Elfling

A/N: Thorin is really a softie. We all know it.

Eleniel is Lord Elrond’s youngest; the equivalent of a seven-year-old human in this little thing I wrote for ff.net in 2017! (PS: She was my first ever OC and I love her dearly. I write all about her on my ff.net).

Title: The Dwarf and the Elfling

Summary: Thorin finds himself a little visitor while he is silently watching the sun set one night in Rivendell.

Words: 929

Thorin Oakenshield sat on a stone bench in Rivendell, expressionless face pointed upwards as he silently watched the sun set in the red sky. Another day. Another day had passed and the time drew closer to Durin’s Day. Would they ever reach the Mountain? They had been travelling for days, and it seemed to him that Gandalf was delaying this quest by insisting they stay in the valley of Imladris for the night.

He had not even been here a day, but already he was growing tired of these Elven folk, as he’d known he would.

He jumped as a sound reached his ears, and quickly grasped for his sword, which wasn’t there. Looking down at where it should have been tied around his waist, he quietly let out a Dwarven curse, remembering that he had left it back where he and his company were camping.

Raising his head again, he looked for who had made the noise, calming down slightly as someone stepped out from around the corner. It was a little elf – did they not call them elflings? – with long wavy hair the colour of platinum. Her eyes, an innocently bright blue, were fixed on his, and she looked a great deal more nervous than he did.

“I- I’m sorry,” she suddenly spoke, her sweet voice immediately reaching his ears. She instantly starting to fidget with her hands, slowly beginning to step back. “I just… I wanted to see the dwarves…”

Thorin actually smiled. He had heard of the curiosity of elflings. “Well, here’s one,” he said in a gentle voice.

The elfling giggled and cautiously moved closer. “My ada said that dwarves had come to visit, and I was very excited because I’d never seen one before.”

“We do not tend to hang around elves much,” the dwarf king admitted. He didn’t know much of the Elven language, but came to the conclusion that ‘ada’ meant 'father’.

“Why not?”

Thorin tilted his head slightly and put on a knowing smile. “Perhaps you will find out when you are older.”

The elfling sighed and rolled her eyes. “That is what everyone says!”

The dwarf chuckled. Why couldn’t all elves have the innocence and brightness of this one? “Some things are not meant for elfling ears.”

“I’m not an elfling! I’m an elleth! Just like my sister, Arwen!”

Arwen. Where had he heard that name before? It certainly sounded familiar, and he wasn’t one to casually become accustomed to the names of elves. Disregarding these thoughts with an absent shake of his head, Thorin nodded. “Of course you are.”

“Now, what have we here?”

Both Thorin and the elfling turned at the deep voice of an elf who had just rounded the corner. His grey eyes were shining and a smile played on his lips.

“Lord Elrond,” Thorin greeted, respectfully dipping his head despite the residual distaste he felt for him. “I was just speaking to this elfling.”

“Ah. You have escaped your brothers again, have you?” Elrond said with a raised eyebrow at the very guilty looking blonde stood in front of him.

“I only wanted to see the dwarves!” she insisted.

“Well, not all dwarves would like to see you!” Elrond told her with a laugh. He glanced up at Thorin with a twinkle in his eye. “I am sorry if she bothered you, Thorin.”

Thorin waved the apology off. “She did not bother me. I quite enjoyed the company.”

Elrond smiled. He quickly looked down again at the young girl and adopted a firm expression, though Thorin, through his years of experiences with his nephews, could tell that the look harboured a secret glimmer of amusement. “However, we do need to address the fact that your brothers will probably be looking all over the House for you, my little imp. They will not be happy.”

“Sorry, Ada,” the elfling apologised, and Thorin’s eyes widened.

“This is your daughter?” he asked.

Elrond nodded with a smile, reaching down and picking the younger elf up. “Yes. Thorin Oakenshield, this is Eleniel Peredhel, my youngest and certainly most daring child.” He gently tickled the girl under her chin, chuckling as she scrunched her face up and buried it in the elf lord’s robes.

Thorin nodded. "It is an honour to meet you.”

“And you!” Eleniel chirped, a yawn following after her words.

Elrond smiled warmly. “It seems it is past your bedtime, my little one. Say good night to Thorin.”

“G'night, Thorin.” Eleniel halfheartedly waved a hand in the dwarf’s direction before nuzzling her head into the crook of her father’s neck and sighing tiredly.

"Good night, Eleniel.” Thorin dipped his head. “I hope we will meet again.”

“I am sure you will,” Elrond said. “You know you are welcome in Imladris at any time.”

Thorin did know this, and he did not mind it at this moment. While he had been speaking to Eleniel, any hatred he had felt towards the elves had completely vanished. Any stress he had had due to the quest had disintegrated. He had felt happy.

“Good night, Thorin. Sleep well,” Elrond spoke softly as he carried his daughter off to bed.

Thorin’s smile stayed on his face as he watched the sun set completely and the sky turn to twilight, stars scattering along the dark velvet. Everything was quiet, and as he stood up and made his way back to the company, he was in a more peaceful mood than he had been in for years.

Perhaps the King under the Mountain’s heart was not as cold as people claimed it was.

Tolkien Masterpost

[yanara126-writing]

The Adventures of Hildraed Dawnsbane -  Fucking Morals and Damnit Fine (5/?)

Farmer, Pirate, Menace, Captain, Dawnsbane. Hildraed has many titles, she really could have lived well without Watcher.

-

Hildraed meets a certain chanter and is faced with the uncomfortable revelation that she might be making friends.

-

Read here or on Ao3. (3224 words)

Have fun! Comments always welcome! :)

-

The keep was… something. Something for sure. Even from a distance they could see the broken, rotting walls. How fitting. Certainly reflective of her mental state.

Mud stuck on her boots as she dragged them over the moist ground, not bothering to lift her feet. She could practically feel the elf boy’s disapproving glare. Well too bad for him, if she had suffer she’d at least look like it too, so nobody got any dumb expectations. Thankfully that message seemed to come across to her companions, because no one bothered her until they finally reached the outer walls.

Well, technically none of them bothered her then either, instead it was someone else, an island aumaua happily humming at a crumbling wall. Alright then. Sure there weren’t all that many fortresses in the Deadfire, but still this decaying pile of stones could hardly be that interesting.

“Fascinating brick wall, I’m sure.” Some distant part of her brain told her it probably wasn’t her greatest idea ever to immediately antagonize every random stranger just minding their own business, but she really, really didn’t give a shit right now. She winced at another painful pulse shooting through her head.

Fortunately the stranger didn’t seem to mind either way.

“Oh, it is! Or the wall itself maybe not, it is a very traditional build. But here look! An inscription! The builders most likely, signing their work. Isn’t it fascinating?” The aumaua was smiling at her now, his terrible sincerity completely frying Hildraed’s brain. That and the Rauataian accent. That was a bit unexpected.

Once again the stranger didn’t seem to mind her undoubtedly rude, mindless stare, for he didn’t even wait for an answer before continuing his excited babble.

“But the truly interesting part is in there." He points a piece of charcoal in his hand at the gates. "...and I haven't had much luck in reaching the keep itself. I hoped to find the master of this place - a man by the name of Maerwald - but it seems that he either holds his privacy most dear or else has been devoured by his houseguests.” Somehow, not even his with sharp teeth infested grin he seemed threatening. How could a humanoid shark look so cuddly? Oh wait, he probably expected an answer.

„Mjam. Old man, delicious.“ Oh well, not the worst thing she’d ever said. That opinion quickly changed when the stranger’s loud, bellowing laugh nearly made her go cross-eyed from the headache.

“For some fellows I’m sure! But personally I’d prefer a talk over making a meal of him. You see, I’ve travelled far and wide over Eora in search of the Tanvii ora Toha. You know it?” Unfortunately. Though she hadn’t encountered a ton of Rauataians (or at least not many willing to have a talk), there had been a few. And they tended to talk when drunk. Often unbidden and at length.

Okay that was a lie, Hildraed had always sucked up knowledge like a sponge, so of course she had interrogated everyone in reach for anything interesting or useable. Not that this guy needed to know that. Why had they been talking about that again? Oh yes. Wait what?

“Sure, sure. But why should it be here?” Still undeterred his grin grew even wider.

“Now that is the question isn’t it? I have no idea! But still the traces are leading me here. Unfortunately I haven’t had much luck breaching the defences, however unintentional they are.” For the first time during their conversation something other than rampant enthusiasm appeared on his face. If she hadn’t known better Hildraed might have called it sly. Oh who was she kidding, she didn’t know any better. “There must be some reason you’re here, is there not? I’m certain together we’ll have better chances to reach the fort than alone!” His eyes wandered over to the side. Oh yes, she wasn’t travelling alone. If she was forgetting this already the headache was slowly becoming more dangerous than annoying. Still very annoying though. “That is, if your companions don’t mind me joining.”

The elf boy did look miffed, but when did he not? And he didn’t seem inclined to deny the protection another party member would bring, so Hildraed counted him on board. She doubted the farmer would be an issue, but then again what did she know about these people. She turned around to him. And promptly did a double take at his dopey grin.

“’Long as you don’t try to hang me off a tree, I’m square.” Hildraed blinked. Perhaps it wasn’t actually her, perhaps people just talked to this man like that. And from the way he STILL grinned that was probably not farfetched.

“That I believe is a promise I can make. I don’t even think any of the trees left here would be able to hold you.” Yep, that settled it. Everyone else here was just as insane as her. How comforting. “Now to official introductions, my name is Kana. Kana Rua. At your service.” What followed was hat flourish that made Hildraed actually home sick. How come everyone had an awesome hat except her?

Introductions were quickly done away with (or so Hildraed thought, at this point she couldn’t be sure of anything), and they set off for the keep. The sooner they were inside the better.

Unfortunately the mentioned house guests apparently disagreed with that sentiment. As soon as they set foot into the courtyard they were set upon by multiple shades, followed by some phantoms, all of them very angry.

And at this point Hildraed was too. Her head was hurting like a bitch, nothing made sense in this damn place, and even the fucking wildlife wanted to skin her. She was tired. Oh so tired. But she was also absolutely livid.

The shades swarmed them, phantoms following up close and the banter died down. Swords slashed against strange, mist like flesh in an uncomfortably screeching noise, spells were muttered and let loose in stabbingly bright flashes of colours.

And Hildraed screamed. As soon as the creatures were within range she let loose howl so disharmonic it could barely be counted as a chant. The spirits, hanging dark and heavy in the air, almost seemed to screech along with her as they were pushed back, but they had no chance to compete with Hildraed’s pure rage. There was no one around anymore, just her and (soon to be) dead bastards.

Feet on moist earth, cool air of the evening brushing almost gently across her cheek, thuds in her ears, red in her eyes, heavy breath from her throat. Gravity pulling at her she fell into every swing, using momentum to rip her broadsword back up. A deadly dance accompanied by her furious chants. One she had danced and sung many, many times. One she had not actually wanted to dance and sing again.

And that cost her. She was tired, angry, frustrated. And also no longer used to solid ground as her dance floor. She stepped forward, swinging her sword upwards in anticipation of a wave that didn’t come. The sword went wide. The weight pulled her along, eyes wide as her balance tipped. Her breathed hitched, a second to long for the chorus, and her next verse slipped out of her grasp. The familiar sensation of an ended chant was just as horrifying as her fall. A lost chant was a lost life in battle, be it hers or her crew, most likely both.

Her back hit the ground with a heavy thump, her sword clanking right next to her, ripped aside with a well-trained reflex to not impale her. Not that it would do her much good anymore.

One more clank, this time from above her. A back to her, broad, and blond hair on the head above it. What?

Suddenly her head burned hot for a second, and the world was back in sharp focus. The farmer in front of her fending off the phantom she’d attempted to decapitate, from behind her a chant. Her chant. Well not anymore, now with a halfway clear head again she could feel that chant had not dissolved when she’d lost hold of it, instead someone else had picked it up and continued it. Somebody who sounded like they had shark teeth.

The light of a Minoletta spell stabbed her eyes for once she was glad for the headache it caused (strangely reduced now from before), as it finally triggered her fighting instincts again. She rolled over, carefully avoiding the sword (and getting grass stains all over herself for it) and dragged herself back up.

She allowed herself one glance backwards, which told her that indeed the newcomer was a chanter, and not a bad one at that, and also that she should most certainly remain on the front line with the farmer. The elf boy looked both determinedly terrified and very squishy, and though the sharkman could probably take a hit, there was no need to risk the chant breaking again.

Ripping her eyes away from the first chanter she’d seen in a long, long time, she heaved her sword back up and fell into a defensive position between their main fighter and the squishy wizard. Not a position she was used to, but she would manage.

The fight didn’t continue for much longer, as her companions had made short work of the spirits while she’d been in a bloodthirsty (smokethirsty? Aetherthirsty? Maybe ask the wizard later) rage. Few hits managed to get through to her, and though she would have been hard pressed to admit it, it was probably for the best. The voice from behind her was deeply distracting. He wasn’t singing her phrases anymore. Neither did he sound much like her. But she- she liked it. It was nice. Unfamiliar.

The last shadow disintegrated and a loud collective sigh moved through the group. The wizard was obviously very desperately trying not to hug his grimoire for comfort, the fighter was drenched in sweat like he’d been dropped into the sea, and the- the chanter’s hat was close to falling off, much like his by now wavering grin.

And they’d made it barely through the courtyard.

Fuck.

Hildraed was very tempted to just let herself fall into the giant, overgrown flowerbed next to them and wait for the ground to just swallow her. But then again, she’d lead a crew for too long to give in to that impulse. The close house it was then. The keep itself would definitely be infested, but perhaps, hopefully, the house had been spared this fate. They’d see. At the very least it couldn’t be too many in the enclosed space, and Hildraed really, really didn’t want to camp again. Or at least she didn’t want to camp outside in the cold anymore.

“Ladies, we’re trying our luck in the house.” Despite her desperate need to fall over again, she waited for the others to shuffle past her, in the elf’s case with a badly suppressed glower at her word choice. Which was indeed very funny and Hildraed could feel her lips twitch upwards. And though in other situations she would have relished in the mirth, perhaps right now wasn’t time for this. Sadly.

Thankfully, no one had any other objections (in fact she was almost sure the singing shark had found it funny.) and they made their way over to the house with only their general grumpiness as an obstacle.

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The inside of the house was hardly comfortable, but Hildraed had slept in worse places. She certainly didn’t want to stay in this shithole, but it was acceptable for a night, if it would keep her out of the wind.

That was what she kept telling herself, continuously plucking out gravel from her ass and back, as she had made the grave mistake of attempting to lie down. Or more accurately, she had flopped down and immediately cursed herself. Loudly.

That in turn had made the elf into a blushing, stammering mess, and he’d fled into a corner digging his nose into a book. Which he had from… somewhere. Hildraed wasn’t quite sure where, but she wasn’t about to ask. Mostly because she was curious how long it would take him to admit that he was sitting on a sharp stone.

“Ow.” She grimaced and winced as she pulled out (probably) the last pebble. She hoped these weren’t like sand. Sand you’d find in the weirdest places days later. Much like companions apparently.

One of which had left to check out the stairs up and had yet to return. Strange noises were coming from the direction of hallway, but as none of them were growls or shouts, Hildraed was willing to ignore them. She didn’t know what the lonely farmer was doing in the back that would cause minor rockslides, and frankly she had no intention to find out.

A fire was lit in the middle of the room, next to the broken fountain. The structure might have been beautiful once, but now it was barely more than a heap of rubble. A shame really. Not that Hildraed cared. It wasn’t like the thing reminded her of the old church, the only impressive construction in her old village. It wasn’t like they’d had anything like it there, a small pool in which she’d played with the other children during her childhood. Nope, not at all.

With that thought she slumped down on the ground (carefully making sure to not repeat her mistake), her back to the structure, and poked the fire a bit. It crackled in front of her, warm and bright, while at the same time dousing the room in an ominous shadow, flames dancing on the walls in a constantly changing rhythm.

“Are you alright?” The voice sounded genuinely concerned, which surprised Hildraed more than the sudden words. She looked up through the flames, and her stupidly poetic with exhaustion brain tried to jumpstart another ramble at the sight of the aumaua’s changed skin colour. She was tempted to try and find a stick to beat her head with, but somehow, she didn’t think that would be very helpful. She sighed.

“Are any of us?” Another dumb thought she hadn’t wanted to voice. The crew didn’t need to know her own insecurities. Thankfully, the awkward silence was broken by another one of their companions.

“The stairs up are completely collapsed. Before anything from up there could attack us, it’d break its neck coming down.” Edér stepped out from the side room, rubbing his neck, rubble stuck all over his clothes and his hair. At least he hadn’t broken his neck. With whatever he was doing. Since his clothes only seemed dirty and not actually all that dishevelled though, she felt almost bad for her inner monologue’s implications. Only almost though, because obviously he’d still been dumb enough to crawl around there.

He flopped down next to them, giving Aloth and his book a cursory glance. Only to immediately grimace in regret again. Hildraed snorted.

An awkward silence followed. Hildraed stared into the flames. But really what should she say to these people? She didn’t know them, not really. She was just sitting in these fucking pebbles with them. Right? And why would she want to know them, knowing them brought responsibilities, knowing them would mean having to take care of them. She was done with that life, she didn’t have a crew anymore and didn’t want one. The fact that she had referred to them as such meant nothing. Old habits, nothing more.

“Would you sing with me?” What?

“What?” Hildraed blinked at- at- Kana. His name was Kana.

“Would you sing with me?” Nope, not any clearer, not even with his grin restored. “Your form in the fight was fascinating, and I would be honoured if you were to give me the opportunity of a chant with you.” He was looking at her over the fire with this shining, honest smile, and for a second Hildraed could feel her heart break. Gods be damned he was cute. He was a full grown man with the enthusiasm of a child. No she couldn’t keep looking at this, his excitement might actually melt her.

Unfortunately, for some reason, turning away didn’t help. On her other side sat- Edér. And though he wasn’t quite as high level excitement, he looked terribly derpy with his dusty face and clothes, and also intrigued at the concept of show. Which she was not giving. She wasn’t a fucking circus horse.

And the- Aloth, sitting across the room, doing a horrible job of subtly eyeing them with interest over his book would change nothing about it. Not even his embarrassing blush at having been spotted.

Oh who was she still trying to lie to. She had tried to keep her distance and had failed, now she might as well enjoy what she got out of it.

The self-revelation came and took the last bit of her adrenaline though. If she was going to give them a show, it would at least be an impressive one. She sighed, and for some reason it felt strangely liberating.

“Fine, boy, but not right now. First a nap. I couldn’t hit a note right now if I tried.” Now that was probably a lie, but she still wouldn’t be good. She almost didn’t dare look up, in fear that he had also mastered the sad puppy look, which might just be fatal for her conviction. Regrettably, her eyes drifted over on their own, and though he looked a little disappointed, Kana either couldn’t or didn’t want to utilize the sad puppy dog look. For Hildraed there were reasons to hope for both.

And while she was already looking at him, she couldn’t help but eye him.

“You know, you could bolster your chances for tomorrow by being my pillow for tonight.” He stared at her with surprise, and Hildraed wanted to bite herself. She was mushy enough, no need to make it worse! (And what if she’d made him uncomfortable now?)

The moment passed though, and his grin returned full force. Instead of giving a verbal answer he just opened his arms expectantly. Before he (or she) could come to their senses and realize just how stupidly mushy they were being, she turned to the side, putting her head on his thigh. (Which was exactly as comfortable as it looked.)

This however put her into the uncomfortable position of having to see Edér’s slightly jealous glances, and Aloth’s now more frequent shifting. She rolled her eyes.

“Fine, come here, bear, we don’t want anyone getting pneumonia here. And kid, please just come to the fire at least, there’s no need to skulk. And also pull that stone out of your bum, you’re proving nothing.”

Before she could see their reaction she turned into the other direction, entirely ignoring the shuffling behind and beside her. She didn’t care what they doing. Okay she did, but at least for now that was only her business.

Which is why she definitely didn’t ask: “How about a demonstration if you’re still so fit?”

Which is why she definitely didn’t feel vindicated at the excited answer.

Which is why she certainly didn’t fall asleep to the velvety tunes of a Rauataian hymn.

[blackdragon-selfships]

1, 4, 6, 9, and 11!! (kittyandco)

Thanks, @kittyandco! 💖

1) Where does your literary inspiration come from? Do you have a favorite writer/writing style that you learn from?

Answered here, but I also take inspiration from movies, TV, and manga/anime. As a kid I used to completely rewrite my favorite episodes of an old show I watched called Dragon Booster. Replacing the canon with my OCs. It was done completely for fun too. lol

Oh, but I think what inspired me most and kept me going was my mom. She’s a writer as well and has (self-)published a trilogy and a book of poems already (which I did the illustrations for on both). But before that, I was inspired by her continuing to write and encouraging me when I shared mine with her.

4) Least favorite thing (dialogue, description, etc.) to write?

I’d say for SFW stuff, room and environment description. I’m not good at designing those, let alone writing descriptions of it. lol

NSFW...the sex itself. I feel weird describing or writing that characters moan or similar even though it’s normal in those situations. I also don’t know how much is too much foreplay and prep or too little. Doesn’t help I have hardly read any well-written work like that.

6) Favorite piece you've ever written?

Hm...that’s a tough one. I think most of my old stuff is awful. lol But I think my favorite I actually shared so far was A Love to Remember. I want to expand on it sometime... Though I have a few WIPs I really like too that I haven’t picked up in months.

9) Do you use fic to improve yourself or just write for fun?

A bit of both. I write a lot for school, but I think my own natural talent for it is thanks to the years I spent writing for fun. Through RP-on and off writing/typing-and my fun little fanfictions.

11) Give us an excerpt of your current WIP!

This is for a “how we met” Megavos story:

“Aaravos...”

He felt his lips twitch up at the soft, playful voice near his ear. Though refused to open his eyes just yet. She would have to work for it.

“Aaravos...come on.” She coaxed, breath tickling his ear which twitched slightly. Still he stubbornly stayed where he was.

“Come on, you lazy elf.” She practically chuckled, and he felt her weight on his chest as she laid her top half on him. Reaching up to nip at a pointed ear playfully. Said ear twitching before he was humming involuntarily and reaching up to grab her by the waist.

“Watch who you call lazy.” He warned, though there wasn’t a trace of bite to his words. Not helped by the soft smirk on his lips.

“Just calling it like I see it.” He heard the grin in her voice before a delicate finger ‘booped’ his nose. A term she used for the action, though he didn’t think it was a true word in the dictionary.

“Simply because I choose to awaken at my own pace?” He retorted, a hand moving up from her waist to tangle in her long, soft hair.

“Precisely why. You of all beings know how quickly time marches.” She replied, her tone mockingly condescending.

He chuckled, humming, then finally opened his eyes.

“I never should have shared that with you.” He teased, looking up into her face. Only for the lighting in their room to cast it in shadows as her frame was a silhouette in the morning glow.

“You can’t take it back now.” She booped him again, causing him to retaliate by pulling her down so she laid her head on his chest. She yelped in protest, but couldn’t fight his grip as he held her in place.

“Hey! Let me up!” She whined, pushing and pulling but to no avail.

“Maybe in five minutes.” He hummed, “which is when I will be ready to be up.”

“Aary!” She whined more, causing his lips to twitch upward in amusement. She had always loved calling him by that silly nickname...no matter how often he playfully teased her on it.

“Five minutes.” Was his reply as he closed his eyes. She pouted, but fell limp against him and he relaxed his grip, running his fingers through her hair again.

“Fine. Five minutes...” She conceded, sighing and slumping in defeat. “But that means you are in charge of breakfast.”

He hummed sleepily.

“Deal.” He then murmured, before the sounds of morning and the feeling of soft hair against his fingers faded slowly...

Aaravos opened his eyes. Met with the dark purple canopy of his four poster bed, with shimmering walls of blue marble surrounding him. To his side, cold, untouched sheets.

(Author’s note for the Ask: There is a specific reason Aaravos can’t see his “mysterious” s/o’s face in this scene.)

Asks for fanfic writers

[yourcreepyneighborhoodelftwink]

As the Hero fell upwards through the sands of time, the days rewinding like the gears of a clock, he landed calmly on the cobblestones of Clock Town Square, at the dawn of the first day. He had been through this many times before, and had grown accustomed to reliving the same 3 days, helping the same people with the same schedules, slowly making more and more progress each time. At least he didn't feel an enormous time crunch, even with the threat of the moon hanging above him, he was always able to rewind the days, and could take days to rest, to sleep or ride Epona or play with the inhabitants.

He rarely did, but it was nice that the option was there.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Tatl getting his attention with a soft tinkling sound, looking over at the stand near the Deku flower, and the note pinned to it.

"That's certainly new…" she said cautiously as they approached, Tatl reading aloud to Link.

The pair exchanged a confused and frightened look. It wasn't signed, but they knew exactly who left the note for them.

BEN sat on the edge of the field, their boots hanging over the barrier where the grass turned into sand, looking out at the canyon leading to the beach. It had been so long since they had entered their game, only playing it from the outside. Perhaps they had been showing too much love to Breath of the Wild lately and not enough to the dark masterpiece of their former prison, or perhaps it was the only world they could enter that felt truly real, where the sun was warm and the wind blew. They HAD become a bit spoiled, learning that adding weather effects and random wind blowing did wonders to immersion when they entered a game.

They closed their eyes, speaking up before looking behind them.

"You didn't have to rush over here. "as possible" doesn't mean "instantly", you know…" BEN said gently, lowering their ears with a guilty smile.

Link frowned softly, keeping his distance from the elf. He couldn't draw his sword AND sign, after all, so he would have to make due. "You didn't specify. I've learned better than to provoke you."

BEN couldn't exactly blame his caution. It's why they were here, after all. "My bad. I'll be more specific next time. But I suppose it's neither here nor there now…"

"...is there something you want, BEN? " Link asked, clearly a bit anxious by being asked to meet.

"...a few things. I won't lie and say there isn't a favor I'd like to ask the both of you-"

"Like you have any right to ask Link for anything, at this point!" Tatl quickly interjected, turning red in anger. "You've terrorized us for no good reason, revealed truths we didn't need to know, and then just left us alone one day!"

"-BUT," BEN continued, "that isn't my main reason for being here. First and foremost... You're long overdue for an apology from me."

Link and Tatl looked at each other in confusion. "...pardon? " Link questioned.

"...I've been doing a lot of thinking and self reflecting lately. Especially because I finally have reason to want to improve myself. And I think I've gotten pretty far in trying to right the wrongs of my past, and try to change as a person. But I still never gave the both of you a proper apology, or even an explanation for how I treated you…" BEN sheepishly said.

Link looked down at the seated person, absolutely dumbfounded. All the times he had been attacked by BEN came instantly into his mind, only to not even be able to so much as scratch them in return, even the might of a Goron doing nothing to them. All the times he had been followed and told he was insignificant, worthless, a joke of a hero, told he was nothing more than a bland, boring conduit for the player of a game in a world far grander than his own. Only for BEN to just... Disappear one day. Gone. Vanish into thin air, and only return occasionally, seemingly at their leisure. Something... Didn't add up to him, and he wasn't sure what on Earth made them suddenly stop tormenting him, and now want to make things right.

"...I'll hear you out, at least," Link finally said, stepping forward to sit next to him. If nothing else, were he going to harm Link, BEN would have done it by now.

"Not that it makes us all hunky-dory yet," Tatl offered, settling on Link's shoulder.

BEN smiled softly, letting out a relieved breath. They stayed quiet for a moment, deciding their words carefully. "I'm not... Sure where to start. So much has happened to me. I guess I should start when we first met. When I first entered this game. It was my favorite game, and with me when I died," they started.

Tatl interrupted, jingling softly. "...when you died?"

BEN nodded softly. "When I died. I was just about your age, Link, about 12. More specifically, when I was murdered. Father simply... Got tired of me, I suppose. He tricked my religion's leader- we refer to him as The Father- into thinking it was my time to Ascend when it wasn't. The whole explanation of my belief system isn't important in this, just that I was robbed of something very important and sacred to me because of it."

"That sounds horrible," Link signed.

"It was... And I was only 12, and not the greatest at understanding or expressing my emotions... I was so angry, absolutely furious at losing that chance, as what had been done to me. I've always had a strong sense of justice, if you can believe it. I don't easily stand for people wronging me. But when I died, my spirit was trapped in this game. All that rage bottled up, with nowhere to release it... Until I started releasing it on you. Very unfairly."

"I'll say," Tatl said, though there wasn't much bite behind her words.

"Eventually, someone played the game, and I was able to break free, find someone else to torment. And after that, start lashing out at everyone who had hurt me, making them

PĄŸ,"

BEN continued, their voice glitching out just a bit at the final word.

"...i moved on to more innocent people after that. I was out of control. To the point where my goddess, Luna, intervened. She stopped me herself, gave me a new body, made me into a young adult so I wouldn't be trapped as a child forever, and I carry the souls of everyone I hurt in my blind sadism, until I join her again one day. And I've worked hard to be a better person now. I've found so much to make my life wonderful, and to make the most of my second chance…" BEN trailed off.

"...but you still want to make amends to everyone you've hurt," Link finished for them.

"...I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't think I can be forgiven. But I really AM sorry for how I treated you. Both of you. Of everyone I've lashed out at, you're the least deserving of it. No matter WHAT'S happened to me, it's NO excuse for how much I've hurt you. And even if you never forgive me, I would love the opportunity to make it up to you…" they finished softly.

"...would you excuse us for a moment?" Tatl asked, flying a slight distance away. Link glanced over at BEN before rising to his feet to follow, and speak with the fairy alone. BEN politely stayed looking forward, allowing them the privacy.

"...do you believe them?" Tatl asked.

"...yeah. They seem genuine," Link admitted.

Tatl nodded softly. "I do, too. There's much simpler ways to trick us or convince us if that was their intention. Even if they said they wanted a favor, this is a lot of lengths to go to for just that…"

"I wonder what they want," the hero mused, glancing over at BEN.

"...maybe ask? Perhaps you can also ask a favor of him, test his sincerity," she said.

"What would that be? " he asked.

"Well, you've said you're curious about his world, whatever it is that our entire world is only a game in, a small part of. Maybe you can ask to explore his world. It'd give you the opportunity to spend more time with him and let him earn your trust, anyway," she offered.

Link nodded softly, then whistled to get BEN's attention. "Alright, BEN, we've talked it over. First, I want to know what favor it is you want…"

"Actually, it's a favor specifically from Tatl," they explained.

"Wait, me?" she questioned.

"...my daughter has watched me play this game a lot. And she's absolutely fallen in LOVE with you, she ADORES seeing you on screen. Her first birthday is in a few months, and there's... Circumstances about my life, and now hers, that will make her very different from other children, with so many secrets to keep. She could really use having a companion by her side, a friend to offer wisdom and company and help when she needs it. A copy of you, like how I copied Epona, to watch over her and make her feel less alone…" BEN said.

"...you have a daughter?" Link asked.

"And a boyfriend. Soon to be husband," BEN explained, holding up their hand to show off their ring.

Tatl let out a soft chime at this. "Well... I'm certainly flattered you think I'd make a good companion to her…"

BEN smiled softly. "I don't expect an answer today, don't worry. There's still a few months before her birthday. And I understand if it's not something you're comfortable with…"

"...we have a proposal for you, in that case," Link began. "You want to make amends to us. We're admittedly curious about this world outside of our own. So, let us explore. Show us your life, and what lies outside this "game", and earn our trust. Then we'll consider it."

BEN thought this over. They'd have to be careful, but this wasn't impossible… "...I can't completely remove you from the game. I'd have to copy you, then merge the copy and your true self after. It's basically the same thing, though, you'd keep the memories and everything. And you'd have to do EXACTLY as I say, I... REALLY can't have attention drawn to myself or the people I live with. If there's something that catches your attention, you can't gawk, just stay calm and ask me. And there's going to be a LOT, the real world is nothing like this one. Hylian sign doesn't match up with any sign language in my world, so you'll at least be able to speak freely. But if you can do that, and trust that I'm keeping us both safe when I tell you to do something... I'll happily show you around."

Link considers this, then nods. He holds out his hand to BEN, who shakes it.

"Then we have a deal."