#i am not surprised that i got sick after moving continents and going 'yes i can jump straight into work no worries do not need to rest'

[bluenotemagpie]

ibuprofen ily. my best friend ibuprofen

[p-sherman-42]

10/9/24

Dear N,

Happy birthday.

I have to keep reminding myself that you've probably already forgotten all about me by now, that you were probably actually relieved when I left. I have to keep reminding myself that you never cared enough to remember my birthday, or my middle name or my last name or my favorite color or movie or how I like my coffee.

I hate that I have to remind myself of these things. I hate that I have to remind myself of all your bad qualities, of all the times you let me down. Because, even after everything, I still try to focus on the good.

I don't want to hate you.

And I hate that, even after everything, I still love you and I still want to make you feel loved and appreciated and seen, even if you don't deserve it.

I was talking about it to H last night, about how fucking cruel it was of you to fill my head and my heart with all that false hope; the love songs and the talk about plane tickets and surprising me and "one day" and "when," and that book, saying it reminded you of us.

"But when I think of you, I want to be alone together. I want to strive against and for. I want to live in contact. I want to be a context for you, and for me. I love you, and I love you, and I want to find out what that means together." "I want to meet you in every place I ever loved. Listen to me. I am your echo. I would rather break the world than lose you." "I love you. I love you. I love you. I'll write it in waves. In skies. In my heart. You'll never see, but you will know. I'll be all the poets. I'll kill them all and take each one's place in turn, and every time love's written in all the strands it will be to you." "At the end as at the start, and through all the in-betweens, I love you."

I took all these to be the words you could never find the courage or language to say to me yourself. And for a while, it was enough. But I reached a point (I'm not sure when or how I got there) when I found it impossible to make excuses for you anymore. It was exhausting having to constantly read between the lines, fill in the gaps, convince myself that you might love me too. I was sick and tired of having to paint you in a better light to my friends, leave out certain details that exposed your true character and your true intentions. I just didn't see the point anymore, especially not when you told me yourself that we would never be together. You weren't even willing to try.

So I cut the ties, the only ones that were holding us together across the oceans; communication. Now it feels like our continents, our worlds, our lives, our souls--which once felt so entwined I couldn't tell where mine stopped and yours began--have drifted apart. The third space in which we resided, alone, together, has crumbled. Our in-betweenness has dissolved into the aether. And slowly--painfully, torturously slow--but surely, I am missing you less and less.

I really just wish you had respected me enough to be honest, to tell me how you really felt instead of feeding me vague inclinations and stringing me along, feigning interest, but only when it was convenient for you. You only wanted me when you were bored of everything else.

I just wish you told me the truth. It would've hurt, yes, but leaving me to try to figure you out myself hurt so much fucking worse. I genuinely thought I was going insane for a while.

Anyways, I go through phases where I'm angry, sad, or just numb.

Monday I wanted you to hurt the way you made me hurt. Yesterday I couldn't understand what part of me turned you off, why my everything wasn't enough. Yesterday I wished you could've heard the way I talked about you to everyone, how even complete strangers could tell I was wholly, entirely, and miserably in love with you. Then I remembered you never told anyone about me. You wanted to keep me a secret, like you were ashamed of me--or maybe ashamed of yourself. Today, I'm just disappointed. But, for the most part, I don't feel anything.

I think I'm finally moving on, or at least starting to accept the fact that you will never be mine.

Yours always, M

[how-many-stars-can-you-count]

Ladynoir July day 1: Older

THIS FANFIC DOES NOT END HERE!! THE STORY CONTINUES ALONG WITH EVERY DAY OF JULY BASED ON WHAT THE THEME OF THE DAY IS!! This is just chapter 1! Enjoy!!

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Cat Noir" a breathy voice said behind the door which Ladybug opened quickly after transforming, not believing the truth of what she just heard.

She hasn't seen her cat partner in months since she moved to New York to work there. As far as she knew, he was supposed to be in Paris right now, calmly enjoying his life and waiting for Hawkmoth to make his next step... which he didn't do since, like, 3 years now. But as long as the butterfly miraculous wasn't in her and her partner's possession, there was still a risk their enemy would strike again.

"Cat Noir!"

He looked up to see her, still breathing heavily but managing to call out her name "Ladybug..."

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other in disbelief, he was wearing his Astrocat suit, she noticed, which meant he must've just arrived from Paris to her house and must be exhausted.

"Come in" she gestured to her empty living room, and he did as she asked.

He slowly sat on the couch, careful not to bring any damage to it, he was already feeling guilty for suddenly entering her home late at night, without even warning her he would - not that he himself knew that - so ruining her place on top of all that wasn't a great idea.

"You okay?"

And just like that she snapped him back into reality.

"Y-Yeah, yeah... eum... no? I- I don't know...

I'm, I'm SO sorry for bothering you, I just, didn't know where else to go, and as I was flying from Paris I remembered you and your house location and-

-Hey! It's okay! Really!" She replied, in a tender tone, emphasizing every word she's saying, to let him know she was only saying the truth...

He smiled sweetly and then took a deep breath. "I ran away from home."

Well, she wasn't expecting that. She knew it was wrong to just run away, because, of course his family and all his loved ones would be worried sick right now, but, she knew it wasn't the right time to tell him that and talk to him objectively. Based only on the look on his face, he just needed comfort, and she was definitely gonna give him that.

Besides, she's known him for so long now, he is responsible. If he ran away, then it was for a good reason. She was sure of that, because she truts him.

"You can stay here if you want...

-Really?! I- I don't wanna bother you though.. I know you have work and all and coming here was a bad idea in the first place and I should just go and-

-CAT NOIR! It's fine! It really is!! I... was kinda feeling lonely anyways, plus... I miss you a lot so... It's a win-win!!"

His smile lit up the room and warmed her heart, seeing him happy was one of her favorite things in the world, especially if he was happy thanks to her.

"THANK YOU SO SO MUCH M'LADY!! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH THIS MEANS TO ME"

He pulled her into a tight embrace and she was surprised, pleasantly surprised, to this gesture... Oh she missed his touch, companym voice so so much... Days felt empty and meaningless without his goofy smile and his presence, which is why she knew for a fact that those were gonna be the best days of her life, with him staying with her...

And, yes, maybe, just maybe, her heart fluttered when he called her with the nickname she got used to over the years, that nickname she didn't realize how much she missed...

"Wait right here Cat"

When she came back she was holding a cup of hot chocolate in her hands. God he missed her baking so much. Memories of them sharing a snack before patrol started and after it, how he would always compliment her cooking and how she wouldn't admit that it made her blush, filled his mind...

Admiration and gratitude filled his eyes as he looked up at her and whispered "thank you"...

That's all he needed after the awful day he just went through, probably the worst day of his life.

"Wanna talk about it?

-Talk about what?

-Why you ran away...

-No. Not today..

-Okay then. We won't talk about it."

She smiled at him sweetly and he returned that gesture.

"So how's Paris?

-Empty without you..."

A sad smile covered her face, she knew that he probably wasn't the only one who felt that way, after all, Paris' beloved hero didn't step into Paris for a while now... Fans were disappointed that she left, her loved ones heartbroken...

But they were still proud of her and happy to see her pursue her dreams of becoming a fashion designer, even if it ment not seeing her anymore.

"Hawkmoth?

-Still on his endless hiatus. At this point I would guess he probably quit or idk died or something..

-CAT!

-What he's not immortal!!"

They both laughed at his comment.

"I'm actually kinda sad that he's not akumatizing people anymore... DON'T GET ME WRONG! It's just that, fighting villains by your side was the best entertainment I could get!

-Oh c'mon! You're definitely still having fun with your old friends and new ones from work right?

-Well I work for my father, it's... a family job, so I'm kinda forced to do it.. It's not awful! I know for a fact that a lot of people would kill for having my job, but... it kinda gets lonely and it's not my thing...

-Then why don't you work what really is your thing after the family job??

-Yeah well the thing is, I don't know what it is that I want!"

Silence filled the room for a few seconds.

"Anyway, what about your job? You told me you were going to make your dream come true!

-I am! It's the best job I could hope for! But I wish I was back in Paris... here I feel like a stranger! But... with you around, I think I'll feel like home..."

Air escaped his lungs, while happiness filled his entire body... Ah he felt like a teenager again, blushing and getting flustered over the slightest sign of affection he gets from his beloved lady... But he couldn't help it! He was stuck in this one sided love for the rest of his life!

Little did he know, this wasn't going to be the case.

A yawn escaped his mouth..

"Tired already kitty cat? It's only 10 pm!

-Well it's not you who traveled from a continent to another after having an emotional breakdown due to the worst day of your life!

-Ouch! Fair point."

He giggled and she joined him right before she went to prepare his bedroom aka the guest room. She never expected she'd use it but well, here they are!

As soon as she finished he met her there.

"Woah! Thank you LB! It looks amazing!

-I didn't do much but your welcome!

Oh! Btw you can detransform in here! I won't enter your room without permission and you won't enter mine because I probably wouldn't be wearing a red mask there!

-Yeah sure...

-And there's also some cheese for Plagg on this table!

-Thanks! He'll appreciate this so much!

-Your welcome kitty"

They stood there staring at each other lovingly until they realized that they were.

"A-Anyway good night, Cat!

-Good night bugaboo <3"

She blushed at the nickname (again) but decided to ignore it, right now was NOT the time to accept unwanted feelings towards a certain black cat...

@ladynoirjuly

Chapter 2

[handwrittenhello]

where the road then takes me

Prompt: Law of Surprise Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier/Renfri, Geralt/Renfri, Geralt/Jaskier, Jaskier & Renfri Rating: T Warnings: None Summary: When Jaskier runs into a pack of wild dogs while searching for his lost hen, he's lucky that Geralt is nearby to save him. But he has nothing to repay the witcher with except the Law of Surprise, and who do they find upon returning to the farm, but Jaskier's sister, Renfri, back early from marauding?

For @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo!

(ao3 link in reblog)

--

Jaskier, eighteen, had grand dreams.

They were little more than dreams, unfortunately, because seeing as how he and Renfri had grown up fending for themselves, stuck in a tiny village on the border of Creyden, he didn’t have much opportunity to go to school or learn to play the lute or anything, really, besides tending to the farm while Renfri got… freelance work elsewhere. That was all he cared to know about it—she would leave, and return home every couple of weeks with a decent bag of coin and blood-spattered clothes, which Jaskier would bitch about cleaning. She made enough for them to live, though not comfortably—Renfri had kept him fairly sheltered, but he knew that they were one of the poorer households in town.

Which was why Jaskier only dreamed of traveling the Continent, singing songs and weaving grand tales for the commonfolk. Instead, he was stuck here chasing down their old hen again, after the coop had blown down in the storm for the fourth time. Henrietta was a sneaky fucker, already gone by the time he woke up in the morning. He cursed but pulled on his boots and stumbled out into the cold morning air to look for her.

He cursed all the way to the edge of the forest, where she’d apparently disappeared into, judging by the tracks and the few scattered feathers he found. “Damned hen. Ought to just eat you and be done with it,” he muttered, pulling his cloak tighter around him before heading into the forest.

He followed her trail as the sun slowly rose, stopping when he heard barking in the distance. Fuck, he hoped that was the hunters’ dogs—he hadn’t thought to bring a knife to defend himself with. Whatever it was, he trudged onwards, because they couldn’t afford to lose a hen. Renfri would kill him if—when—she found out.

And then he heard it—familiar squawking, accompanied by those same barks, louder. He crept closer and saw exactly what he’d feared—a pack of wild dogs circled Henrietta, one of them darting in every so often to snap at her slashing claws. She was fending them off pretty handily, actually—Jaskier knew how vicious she could be firsthand.

But the dogs would no doubt attack in force soon, and then she’d have no chance. Without thinking, Jaskier picked up a rock and threw it at the nearest one, hitting it square in the nose. It recoiled and turned its attention away from Henrietta, which was exactly what he wanted.

Unfortunately, it turned its attention towards him, which was exactly what he didn’t want. “Oh, fuck,” he spat, and turned tail as the pack gave chase.

He dashed over tree roots and fallen logs, blind stupid terror coursing through his veins. He had no plan beyond don’t get caught—and he could only run for so long before tiring. He threw a glance backward and saw that they were gaining on him—and fast.

Not looking where was going, he was taken completely by surprise when he slammed into something hard, bouncing off it and landing with an oof on the mossy ground.

Dazed and still half-blind with fear, he didn’t even notice that he’d slammed into a person until they moved, stepping over him and taking on the dogs with an easy confidence, sword swinging with preternatural force.

Two swords, armor, incredible speed and fighting skills? As the man finished dispatching the last of the pack and turned around to reveal mutated cat eyes set in a heavily scarred face, Jaskier realized who the man was. He sucked in a sharp breath.

The witcher sheathed his sword, holding out a hand as if to calm Jaskier. “It’s alright,” he rumbled, voice full of gravel. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Jaskier picked his jaw up from where it had dropped. “I know that,” he answered, getting to his feet and half-heartedly brushing the dirt off himself. “You’re a witcher.”

“I am. Usually fight more dangerous things than wild dogs, though. Also don’t usually see unaccompanied kids running around being chased by them.”

“I had to get their attention somehow. Henrietta was—wait, Henrietta!” Jaskier, remembered, abruptly spinning on his heel and dashing back to where the pack had cornered her.

“Wait!” the witcher called from behind him, but Jaskier paid him no heed.

He was gratified to see that while he’d been running for his life, Henrietta had seen fit to begin making herself a nest right in the same spot. “Oh, aren’t we cozy?” he grumbled, creeping closer in an attempt to grab her. He was almost upon her when the witcher ruined it, crashing through the underbrush behind him and sending her clucking away just as Jaskier pounced.

Jaskier sighed and turned to face the witcher, who at least had the good grace to look a little guilty. The guilt soon disappeared, though, when Jaskier rounded on him and began to lecture. “Now look what you’ve done. It’ll take me ages to catch her,” he complained, watching as the witcher’s eyes grew incredulous.

“You risked your life for that scrawny thing?” the witcher asked, amused disbelief coloring his tone.

“That scrawny thing is probably the most valuable thing we own, so yes,” Jaskier snapped. He couldn’t stand it when out-of-towners looked at him like that, like he was a stupid farm boy who knew little more than dirt and chickens. Which, to be fair, he didn’t, but it wasn’t as if he wanted it that way.

The witcher’s face cleared to something more akin to understanding—thank the gods it wasn’t pity. “Then I suppose I owe it to you to help catch her,” he said, and in the blink of an eye he’d snatched Henrietta up. Jaskier accepted her into his arms somewhat stunned.

“Thank you,” he eventually managed to stammer. The witcher said nothing in return, and they stood there for a long, awkward moment, before Jaskier realized he was probably waiting for something. “Oh! I don’t—I don’t have anything to pay you with…” he trailed off, recalling all the old adages, that witchers never worked for free. Fuck. Renfri wouldn’t be home for days if not weeks still, and the only coin he had he needed to save for the market day after tomorrow.

The witcher began to speak—what it was he was going to say, Jaskier didn’t know, but he interrupted as an idea struck him. “But I can offer you the Law of Surprise!” he suggested, recalling the ballads of children promised to witchmen. “We’ve a bitch due for pups soon—perhaps we’ll return home and you’ll find yourself with a companion to warm the long nights on the road!”

“Hmm,” the witcher replied, but it wasn’t a no, so he figured that it probably meant he wasn’t about to be forced into the witcher’s debt. Humming, he led the way back to the farmstead, the witcher a silent, hulking protector at his back.

Once they arrived, Jaskier was quick to secure Henrietta in the barn, where normally there would be pigs, but now, after sickness had taken their only sow, there was only dust and hay and the occasional mouse. He left Henrietta to her mouse hunting and led the witcher to the cottage, throwing open the door, excited to see what surprise he might find.

“Jaskier, why the fuck have you brought a witcher home?” asked Renfri, perched on the table and cleaning underneath her fingernails with one of her many knives.

Jaskier paled. “Renfri! You’re—you’re not meant to be home yet,” he choked out.

“What, you’re not happy to see me?” she drawled, eyebrows knitting together. Jaskier, helpless, threw a glance back at the witcher, who was wearing a thunderous expression. Shit.

“I—not in this case, no,” Jaskier said tersely. “Fuck.”

“Some welcome,” she said faux-calmly, hopping down off the table. Jaskier recognized the tenseness in her form that spoke of a predator preparing to pounce. Sure enough, she lunged a moment later, her knife held a half-inch away from the witcher’s throat. Jaskier yelped. “Did he hurt you, Julek?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the witcher’s face.

“No, nothing of the sort, now put that down,” Jaskier hissed, tugging ineffectually at her arm. “He saved me, in fact, and…”

“And?” Renfri asked lowly.

“…and I may have promised him the Law of Surprise in return,” Jaskier finished all in a rush, wincing. “I swear, Ren, if I’d known…”

“That’s the thing about surprises,” the witcher interjected. “But you needn’t worry. I have no plans to claim your—sister?” Jaskier nodded. “As I said before, I need no payment.”

Renfri lowered her knife, and Jaskier breathed a bit easier for it. Renfri was a formidable fighter, but Jaskier doubted even her strength against a witcher. If a fight had broken out, he’d have had to—well, not help, because he was rather useless in a fight, but it was the principle of the matter.

“I suppose I could do worse for myself,” Renfri mused, looking Geralt over critically.

“Wait you’re—Renfri, he said he wouldn’t claim you, you don’t have to.”

“And what if I want to?” Renfri answered. “He seems a decent sort. And not too hard on the eyes, either.”

The witcher, looking uncomfortable, stood there and said nothing.

Jaskier threw his hands up. “You’re insane. And you!” he said, turning to the witcher. “Are you agreeing to this?”

“The life of a witcher isn’t well suited to… companionship,” the witcher replied, face twisted. “Walking the Path is difficult.”

“And if I promise that I can handle myself?” Renfri asked, twirling her knife in one of the many tricks she was proud of. “I’m no stranger to the road. It’s Jaskier you’d have to watch out for.”

“I resent that,” Jaskier said mildly, mostly out of principle. But the prospect was too exciting to dwell on it for long—was Renfri truly proposing that they set out with a witcher? “Ren, do you mean it?”

“If your witcher is fine with it, then I don’t see why not,” she replied. “What do you say, witcher?”

“Geralt,” the witcher corrected her. “If we’re to travel together, you ought to at least know my name.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier repeated. It rolled off the tongue wonderfully. “Oh, this is so exciting! I’m going to write so many songs, just wait,” he gushed. “The Witcher and the Shrike—I can hear it now.”

Renfri pulled him out of his thoughts with a cuff to the shoulder. “Ow,” he said mildly. “Wait—you are planning on sharing, right?” he interjected. “Because, I mean, look at him.”

“Am I a toy to be shared among siblings?” Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Is that a no, you don’t want to sleep with both of us? Because I’ll respect that, I will, but also, not to objectify you or whatever, but dear gods please, I think my poor heart might break if I didn’t get to fuck you at least once.”

“Jaskier! Leave my Husband Surprise alone,” Renfri said, shoving him away. “Go get packed. Essentials only!”

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” Jaskier placated, raising his hands in surrender. “Don’t get up to anything while I’m gone, you lovebirds.”

As he left, Geralt turned to Renfri. “Is he always like this?”

“Yeah, he’s chronically stupid. Gets it from our father.”

“Remind me again why I agreed to this?”

“Don’t know, but it’s too late now. You’re stuck with us, witcher,” Renfri replied, looping an arm around Geralt’s.

Geralt made a show of sighing, but in truth, he wasn’t annoyed as all that. At least it would make life more interesting.

[lapinmiel]

Mirror, Mirror

Felix and OC (Female), 1,8K. (Part 1)

Phoebe’s life was never one of an adventure, even as a vampire — after being discovered by the Volturi for her talent, she finds herself running away from the world’s most powerful organization, and soon she finds herself in a complete lie and truth situation, with the anchor of her lover leading her to his side.

Part 1, Part 2

None of the nights were calm anymore, it was always a chaser behind, and there was always an obstacle to be faced ahead. Days were filled with blood and dread, and she wished she could close her eyes for a night and never wake up again.

He called it “teenage dread” which made her very sad and furious, because she had been alive for fifty years now, how the hell could she have a teenage dread now? She had never heard it before anyway, she was past her teens — more like early twenties, but she didn’t remember her birthday. Her thoughts were like water droplets in a bucket of water swaying left to right, purely disordered.

And now, she was dealing with another threat: the damn Volturi were after her.

The night they realized there was a vampire out there who could mirror any talent was the night her life as a free vampire had ended. She had never seen the Volturi before, but she’d heard about them from Saladin’s stories, and all those were horrible. From executing clans to poaching lone vampires, they gained form as soulless monsters in her imagination, and she was not ready to face them.

And when the night of her planned poaching had come, she was surprised, because even Jane, the little one was a monster in her mind but, she was barely half of her height, which made things complicated for her. She knew she could kill Jane in a heartbeat, it was one of her skills after all, but would she feel comfortable killing a child? She didn’t know, but she realized she would have to do it one day rather quickly.

“Phoebe.” Jane’s dead, stone-cold voice had traveled the air and reached her. “I propose you join us, and we will let your creator be free.”

It wasn’t an easy choice. It wasn’t a choice. Saladin had told her before, the Volturi does not forgive. The Volturi does not tell the truth. If she joined them, Saladin would be dead by dawn, and she would have to spend her whole life serving for three marble like (but much uglier) creatures to death. Her aspirations didn’t fit theirs, and her sense of freedom definitely wasn’t a thing that they could inspire. It wasn’t the right band of people to be sent to offer a union anyway, a little agony machine, a man with eyes of mischief and another one with a door like figure that looked like it would take him a single wrong lettering of a name to crush your skull to a jelly. Besides, the men looked slightly attractive, and it wasn’t for the easy lover like Phoebe to resist men like that easily.

She refused. No hesitation was found in her noise, no twitching of hands — and in a second of leaves falling from the trees, she felt thousands of needles trying to penetrate through her skin. Her mind took action in an instant and the three vampires fell on the ground. She used the chance to turn around and tell Saladin to run away, but he had already, and when she tried running, she felt something around her neck.

The arm, or whatever it was that choked her, felt like a tight rope, much like when she was drowning in her human life. She tried putting her hand around it, but the force was far too powerful for her to slip her hand.

Then she acted out on her instinct, and kicked the figure behind her. The arm around her neck loosened, and she used the moment to run away.

It had been five days since the night happened, and they hadn’t stopped for more than two hours. “If we stop, they will find us.” Saladin had said to her earlier, he told her that the shorter man was called Dimitri, and he could find anyone, anywhere. He couldn’t risk staying in a place more than a couple of hours because he knew the Volturi would bring a whole army to poach Phoebe, and it wouldn’t matter whether his shield would be working or not. They had penetrators anyway, and he wasn’t looking to die in at least three hundred years from that moment on. They were running for hours, hunting, and running again. Saladin knew the Volturi were tracking their footsteps, and Demetri was on their necks like a crow.

It had been three hours since they’d stopped on a mountain in north Asia, and soon, it was going to be the time to move.

Phoebe had been thinking to say something for days, and the mountain range, which she didn’t know the name at, gave her the feeling of what would happen if I said, it doesn’t matter, and she wanted to go for it.

“You know what, Saladin.” She said in a breath. Saladin was busy with finishing his food. “I’m gonna say it.”

He looked up with curious eyes.

Phoebe poked the hand of her victim on the ground to fend off nervousness.

“You are the reason that we are running away now.” She looked up at Saladin. His eyes showed no emotion other than curiosity. “If you hadn’t put your shield down on the forest, we wouldn’t be here. We would be looking for Zareen like you wished.”

Saladin, licking the blood on his lips, got up and stood on the place like a mannequin. Phoebe was relieved now, because her thoughts had reached the belonging place, and now she could deal with his bickering for a couple of days. Better than keeping thoughts in a locked up place.

“Well, I am.” Much to her surprise, Saladin wasn’t angry. “But you must accept that it wasn’t intentional. I was distracted by the human. If I wasn’t, nothing would have happened.”

“Yeah, that’s the point.” She said. “If you weren’t. You should keep your guard up all times. You hadn’t one time, and we are being hunted down by the Volturi and you are probably going to get burned like a witch at a stake as if it was the Middle Ages!”

“I’m not you, Phoebe! My talent doesn’t work on its own, I have to focus on it.”

“I know.” She was feeling guilty for telling him what she thought now. It felt ungrateful.

“It doesn’t matter. We will survive this.” Saladin took a step towards her and put his hand on her shoulder. “We are going to find Zareen, and we are going to erase our existence from our world.”

He smiled, and embraced her tightly.

She knew it wasn’t completely his fault. She knew that it was a distraction that caused this all, yet, she couldn’t forgive him completely. No, it wasn’t a matter of forgiveness — it just felt wrong. It felt wrong that after living fifty years in peace, she now had to run away, and if they couldn’t find Zareen, they had to do it for their whole life. God knew how long would that be.

She was already getting bored with her life. Living in the shadows, hunting people, overpowering every being on the planet, being indestructible. A weakness was lacking, and her talent didn’t help at all. She was presumably the luckiest person in existence, and perfection was boring after spending decades being it.

After Saladin released her from his hug, they started running again. Hours and minutes were as light as a bird’s feathers, and later, they found themselves in the southern regions of the continent.

After hours of running, they stopped again, another mountain by a big city. Saladin felt like the place was quiet enough for him to catch any sound that sounded peculiar, and Phoebe thought that the trail around the mountain was the perfect place to hunt humans. They quickly ran around the mountain for a possible prey, and they fed on him to his last drop of blood once they found him. Within seconds, they felt powerful again.

In that little euphoria of feeding, Phoebe caught the glimpse of a plane flying right above their head. Her eyes glimmered. She turned and looked at Saladin to see whether he was thinking the same thing, but no, he definitely was thinking about his meal.

“Saladin.” Her voice brought surprise to Saladin again.

When he looked at her, she pointed upwards to the plane, but still, Saladin’s eyes were oblivious as ever. Maybe it is his old age, she thought.

“We can use planes.”

Saladin furrowed his brows.

“We can use planes to stop the Volturi from finding us. We’ll sneak into the cargo compartments during take off, and you’ll use your shield throughout the journey. When we land, we feed and look for Zareen. Then the Volturi will be confused.”

Saladin finally understood. Phoebe often felt like following him was a mistake, because despite his brilliant plans, he was often too slow at understanding her plans.

“They won’t be able to track us without thinking that something is wrong.”

“Yes!” Phoebe’s excitement was flowing through her veins. “No vampire uses technology. And I wasn’t born a thousand years ago.”

Saladin gave a quick smile. They agreed on the plan, and they quickly finished their meals. They arrived at the airport soon after. Phoebe offered playing a little game to choose which plane to sneak in, but Saladin, being his no-bullshit self, refused it, and choose the biggest plane. The logic behind it wasn’t clear to Phoebe, because he had never traveled by plane before, how could he know which plane flew where? Phoebe didn’t know it either, but judging from the size, it was likely going to America.

The plane they chose came to the runway about an hour later. They were waiting by the airport fences. When he felt ready, Saladin told Phoebe to run and lead him. She did as he wanted — just when the plane was about to start its engines, she run and entered the plane from the back tires.

The space was enormous, and Saladin look terrified. He knew he wouldn’t die even if something happened, and he knew that planes were completely safe after what Phoebe told him about them, but being in such a foreign object was giving him an extremely uneasy feeling, as if he was a human again and was sick with nausea. Taking off part felt like he was flying, not the machine, and after spending long hours, lading felt like falling.

The terror in his eyes when Phoebe told him to hold on to somewhere on the top of the compartment was remarkable, and Phoebe couldn’t contain her laughter when he saw him looking like a little scared puppy. While they were holding to the cables and parts of the plane, the tires got lowered, and for once Saladin felt thankful for his vampirism. At least I won’t be crushed by this thing, he thought.

Just as when the plane was getting out of the runway, Phoebe and Saladin jumped off the plane and run to the nearest fences. They jumped through them, and started running again.

It took a couple of seconds for Phoebe to realize it wasn’t morning and that they didn’t have to run away. She slowed down and told Saladin to do the same too. He came close to her to get her in his shield.

But it didn’t take long. The feelings that settled in Phoebe was not relaxation, but fear.

Because the signs on the streets didn’t read any English words. The people around them were not speaking English either. It was melodic, much more than her own language. And it was terrific too, because they were trying to run away from their hunters, not land in their homeland.

From the Writer: Just a heads up, my first language is not English and I struggle with choosing tenses when writing. If you see “had been” mixed with “was” or thing like that, please inform me. I can’t really differentiate them. By the way, Phoebe is not read the regular “Phee-bee” way, it’s more like “Pho-ee-bee”, because that’s how I pronounce it lol.

[thetravelerwrites]

Courtship of the Headless King: Chapter Two

Rating: General Audiences Fandoms: 忘却の首と姫 | Boukyaku no Shirushi to Hime | The Princess and The Forgotten Head Relationship: Female Human/Male Headless King Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Political Marriage, Power Dynamic, Headless King Content Warnings: Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Abductions Words: 4448

Lilya conducts her marriage interview with His Majesty. Please reblog and leave feedback!

There was a tense moment in which no one moved. The triplets and the king’s attendants watched apprehensively as Lilya stood there, taking in the sight she was seeing. Slowly, she took a step forward, and then another, and stopped right in front of the desk.

“Does that hurt?” Lilya asked softly.

The king actually took a small step backward, clearly not expecting this. For a moment, no one knew how to react to her question. After a minute of heavy silence, His Majesty picked up a pad of paper that lay on the desk in front of him and began to write.

~No, it doesn’t hurt.~

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Lilya said, placing a hand over her heart. “I’ve seen people lose their heads before; it always looked like it hurt terribly.”

The king began to write again. ~You were present during such barbaric acts?~

Lilya nodded shakily. “The royal family in Tritsia was captured during the war and were forced to witness many terrible things. Able-bodied countrymen were rounded up and executed en masse in a horrible show of power, even if they were just farmers or merchants. We were made to watch them all.”

All five attendants exchanged looks of horror.

~That must have been harrowing. How old were you when this happened?~

“It started when I was ten, after my father was killed, and carried on until Couliea claimed our land for themselves three years ago. I helped dig a fair number graves during that time.”

~How old are you now?~

“Nineteen, Your Majesty,” Lilya said.

Conversation died briefly, but after a moment, the king began to write again.

~Would you like to sit down?~

“Oh, yes, thank you,” Lilya said. Raba brought a chair for her and she took a seat. His Majesty waved his hand, and all five of the attendants bowed and left the room, closing the door behind them. Peridot winked at them as she exited.

~Are you not afraid of me?~ His Majesty asked.

“Not really, no,” Lilya replied. “After all that’s happened, I’m not afraid of very much anymore. Should I be scared?”

~This meeting marks three thousand, six hundred and sixty-two marriage interviews that I’ve conducted. You are the first and only woman who has seen me and not screamed, run, fainted, vomited, burst into hysterics, or begged me to let them go, fearful that I’d eat them or some other nonsense.~

“How awful. I couldn’t imagine someone treating you so cruelly. Why would they even come if they didn’t want to?”

~Pressure from their families. The political gain of a union with Banfarie would be a boon to any country on the continent. The appeal of that power and influence drives people to do things they don’t want to do. Either the women would cry hysterically and run away, or they would swallow their disgust and force themselves to conduct the interviews as if it were normal, all the while looking as if the idea of marrying me made them sick.~

“That was terribly rude of them,” Lilya replied, incensed.

His Majesty’s shoulders shook slightly, and Lilya thought he might be laughing.

~In all fairness to them, I am unusual and a little frightening.~

“That’s no excuse! So what if you’re a bit different? That’s no reason to make such a fuss. How would they like it if people acted that way around them? I know my feelings would be hurt. They should have been more considerate.”

His Majesty was completely still for a full minute. Lilya was beginning to wonder if he was alright, when he started to write again.

~You’re rather unusual, aren’t you?~

Lilya laughed good-naturedly. “I suppose so.” She looked at the paper and pen in his hand thoughtfully. “It must be difficult for you to communicate sometimes. I know most people of royal or noble birth are required to learn to read and write, but even in a prosperous nation like this one, many people are illiterate. Do you have trouble communicating with your staff?”

He moved his shoulders in such a way that it put Lilya in mind of someone shaking their head.

~No, since most of my staff are made up of fairies and spirits, my magic allows me to communicate telepathically with them. If needed, they can convey my thoughts to others.~

“Oh, I see! That’s how you spoke to Raba when the door was closed.”

~Yes.~

“Do you know any of the signing languages? Perhaps we could talk that way.”

His Majesty visibly perked up and began gesturing.

“Oh! No, I’m sorry, I don’t know the signing languages, I just meant that I’d be willing to learn it so that we could communicate easier with each other.”

He stopped signing, but he didn’t seem disappointed. Rather the opposite, he seemed touched.

~You’d be willing to learn an entire language just to be able to talk to me?~

“Well, yes. After all, if you accept me, I’d also need to learn this country’s native language to talk to the citizens. Adding another language to my curriculum wouldn’t be so bad.” She leaned forward a little, and His Majesty leaned back, as if intimidated. “This may be an impertinent question and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but may I ask how you lost your head?”

~It’s alright. I removed it myself.~

Lilya looked both horrified and impressed. “Whatever for?”

He paused for a moment before writing again, and this time he wrote out an extended statement.

~I was the son of a concubine who died during my birth. Apparently, I resembled her very much and did not take after my father, the king, at all. The queen’s children, my half-siblings, bullied me relentlessly, often questioning the legitimacy of my birth and whether or not I was indeed my father’s son. They spread rumors about me and my mother, which eventually got back to my father. He also began to question my birthright and threatened to send me into exile. In anger, I somehow managed to pry off my own head and throw it into the Aurora. I think I’d meant to end my own life, but I survived somehow. When my father saw this display of my magical power, he reversed his position and put me first in line for the throne, even though he had four sons by the queen who were all older than me. I was crowned king the following year, and the year after, my father passed away.~

“How old where you when you became king?”

~Twenty-two.~

“How old are you now?”

~One hundred and sixty years old.~

Lilya’s eyes widened in shock.

~Does my age upset you?~

“No, not at all, it’s just…” She frowned in sympathy but fell silent. It must be lonely to have lived alone for so long, she thought to herself.

~I have not aged since I lost my head. I think the magic of the Aurora is what keeps me alive.~

“That’s incredible,” Lilya breathed. “I’ve never heard of such a thing happening.”

~My family has always been strange.~

Lilya chuckled a little. “How are you able to see and hear without a head?”

~Magic. It’s hard to explain to in simple terms, but I don’t see or hear in the same way as normal humans. It’s more of a perception of the wavelengths created by light, shadow, and sound by my whole body instead of my head. I can perceive those sensations similarly to true sight and hearing, but it’s not quite the same.~

“That’s fascinating,” She said, leaning closer. “May I ask you something else that might be a little personal?”

He seemed to laugh again. ~More so than you have already done? Please do.~

“You’ve only been conducting marriage interviews for the last sixty years, right? That means you had already been ruling for almost eighty years without a queen. Why did you suddenly start looking for a wife?”

~My attendants began to pressure me to marry and sire an heir.~

“Is that the only reason?”

~What other reason would there be?~

“Weren’t you lonely?”

His Majesty’s hands were motionless and he seemed to be thinking.

~Perhaps.~

Then he fell still again, as if he didn’t know what else to say.

Lilya smiled a little. “You don’t enjoy these interviews, do you, my Lord?”

He gave another shoulder-shake of laughter. ~No, not at all. I believe this may have been the longest conversation I’ve had with a human woman in my entire life.~

“Oh, goodness,” Lilya said, holding a hand to her mouth in surprise. “I hope I haven’t bored you, my Lord.”

~Not in the slightest. This has been surprisingly pleasant.~

“Oh good,” She said, relieved.

~You’ve asked me a fair number of questions. May I ask you something in return?~

“Of course, My Lord.”

~What is one thing you wish for more than anything?~

Lilya looked out of the far window and thought about the question. She had never spent much time wishing for anything, knowing that wishes did little to affect reality. After all, she had wished for her father back numerous times, and for the terrible atrocities committed against her country to stop, and that had never happened. The only thing she really wished for was the safety of her people, but how could she achieve that?

“Walls,” She said suddenly.

~Walls?~

“The borders of my homeland have no defenses. People from outside the kingdom come in and steal food, destroy crops, take livestock, and even abduct people right out of the fields, and we have nothing to stop them. My land grows smaller every day because people just come in and take whatever they like, whenever they like. I wish we could do more to protect ourselves, but we have no military or security forces. Walls would be just as effective as guards, perhaps more so.”

You care very much about your home and people, at your own expense, it seems.

“Yes,” Lilya said, clutching the pendant on her neck. “I… I sold the tiara you sent to me so that I could feed the people affected by a famine on our southern border. It was a lovely gift and I was quite touched by it, Peridot even took this jewel off for me to keep,” She pulled it up to show him. “But… my people needed food more than I needed a crown. I hope you won’t be too disappointed in me, but… I didn’t want to lie or mislead you.”

~I see. He sat quietly, as if in thought. Very well. It will be done. I’ll have construction teams sent out to Tritsia right away.~

Lilya looked up in shock. “Wha… You’re Majesty! I wasn’t… I didn’t mean…”

~I know you didn’t. It is my gift to you for your understanding and patience. This has been one of the most enjoyable mornings I’ve had in many years. That alone is worth giving you some peace of mind.~ 

He stood up and made for the door. Overwhelmed by his generosity and on the verge of tears, Lilya jumped out of her chair as his Majesty passed her.

“I’ll marry you!”

His Majesty stopped dead in his tracks and turned. He hadn’t brought the paper with him so he couldn’t respond, but he was rooted to the spot as if frozen.

“This is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me or my people. How could I possibly refuse?”

This spurred him to action. He walked briskly back to the desk and wrote on the notepad.

~I didn’t do it to buy your cooperation,~ He protested. ~It’s only a gift, nothing more. I expected for us to continue the interview after I made the arrangements. You don’t have to accept because you feel obligated to repay me.~

“No, that’s not it at all!” Lilya protested. “I don’t know what all those women saw when they looked at you, but it can’t be the same thing I see.”

~What is it that you see?~

She took a deep breath and attempt to gather her thoughts into a coherent fashion. “Maybe when they saw you, you reminded them of a storm that covered the sky at night, full of destructive power, and it made them afraid. But… all I can see when I look at you is what’s behind the storm.”

~Which is?~

“You’re the stars, not the storm. Your Majesty, you’re the light that shines when the storm passes.” She shook her head and laid it in her hands, unable to keep her overwhelmed tears from spilling. “Oh, I don’t even know if I’m making sense. But, Your Majesty, please believe me when I tell you that I don’t just want to marry you because I feel as if I’m in your debt, even though I most certainly am in your debt. I want to marry you because… I… I just do! I don’t even know how to explain it properly. I just… I would be happy to be your wife and honored to be your queen. If that’s what you want.”

~Wouldn’t you be happier marrying a normal man?~

“My Lord, I had no thoughts of marrying at all before I received your summons. If I did marry, it would most likely have been someone my family chose for me. With you, I get a choice. And I’ve chosen you.”

Slowly, he wrote, ~Are you sure?~

“Yes, I’m certain.”

~Then why are you crying?~

“Because I’m happy,” She replied, her voice shuddering as she laughed.

He held out his hand to her. ~You truly mean this? You’re accepting the proposal?~

“Yes,” She replied, taking his hand. “I’ll marry you right now if you want.”

He seemed to chuckle. ~It is enough that you said yes freely and without reservation. I am pleased.~

He turned toward the door, and it flew open after a moment, and all five of the attendants stood there with their mouths hanging open, staring at the pair holding hands. He must have told them the good news telepathically.

“Sire, congratulations!” Larima said. “It’s about time one of these women saw sense!”

“Larima, hold you’re tongue!” Aquamarine said, boxing one of his ears.

“His Majesty says that the wedding will have to be soon,” Raba told Lilya. “He regrets to have to rush it, but there is a political upheaval brewing to the west that he must take care of. He honestly hadn’t expected you to accept, so he hadn’t canceled his plans to intervene.”

“That’s quite alright,” Lilya said, grinning a little giddily. I can’t believe it! I’m really getting married! “I understand his Majesty must be terribly busy. I don’t mind if the wedding is soon. Oh!” She turned back to the king. “Can my family attend the wedding? I promised that I’d keep in touch with them, and I’d like them to meet you. Would that be alright?”

“He says that would be fine, except he’s worried that your family will not like him, which doesn’t normally bother him, but that it may cause trouble for you,” Raba said.

“It’s fine, I’ll explain everything to them. Thank you, Your Majesty!”

Lilya threw her arms around His Majesty’s waist, hugging him. He went completely still and his body tensed under hers, as if he were at the mercy of a pack of rabid dogs. Lilya, sensing his discomfort, released him immediately.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep! I was just so excited that I acted without thinking.”

If a headless person could gulp, His Majesty would have done so. He straightened his lace collar and waved his hand.

“He says it’s alright, he was just startled,” Peridot said. “He also says that as his chosen queen, your word is equal to his. You may give any order you wish and the staff with follow it without hesitation.”

“I understand, Your Majesty. Thank you.”

He bowed deeply in response, his arm across his chest as a show of respect.

Peridot clapped her hands eagerly. “Come now, princess! There’s much to do to get ready for the wedding and only a short amount of time to do it!”

The triplets led Lilya from the room, tittering happily. Once the door closed behind them, the king fell into a chair as if exhausted.

She’s like a whirlwind, He said to Raba and Larima. I am completely at her mercy.

“I’ve never seen you like this, My Lord,” Raba said. “She must have made one hell of a first impression.”

That is an understatement. Send a letter to her family inviting them to the wedding. It’ll make her happy to see them.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Larima said. “But… are you sure she’s the one? In all these years, after all those interviews, are you sure you’ve found your queen?”

It’s her; I knew it the moment I saw her, the second I heard her voice.

“The second she didn’t scream, you mean, sire?” Larima said. Raba flicked him in the forehead.

I’ve spent sixty years… no, much longer than that, looking for her. I’m not going to wait anymore. Begin preparations for the wedding immediately.

“Yes, My Lord.”

It took only a week for the preparations to be complete, seeing as the wedding would be a small affair. His Majesty said he would give Lilya any kind of wedding she wanted, no matter the expense, but she said all she wanted was for her family to be there and nothing else. All that was left now was to wait for Lilya’s family to arrive.

She hadn’t seen his Majesty since the interview, but she knew he had to have been incredibly busy. He was the monarch of a vast empire, after all, and he genuinely didn’t think he’d be getting married so soon.

A day before her family was due to arrive, a dress appeared in her quarters. It was gorgeous; a white, princess cut ball gown with a sheer layer of silk over the top painted with pink roses. The neckline was a low square-cut and it had half-sleeves with lace frills. On top of the mannequin holding it was a lace veil that trailed the ground and glittered as though it was woven from diamonds.

“Oh, how beautiful!” Lilya said. “Is this for me?”

“Yes, it’s your wedding gown,” Aquamarine said. “His Majesty had it sent down for a fitting.”

“It’s lovely,” She breathed, daring to reach out and touch the fabric, though it looked so delicate that it might disintegrate under her fingertips.

“Here, let us help you,” Garnet said, beginning to untie the laces.

Garnet, Aquarmarine, and Peridot assisted Lilya in putting the dress on. Though it fit like a glove around the waist, the skirt was just slightly too long. The sisters assured her it was a quick and easy fix.

That night, she was alone in her room looking at the dress, newly tailored and ready to be worn, and began to get anxious.

“What if I trip and tear it?” She fretted. “A dress like this couldn’t have been made in just a few days, no matter how many seamstresses worked on it; The lace on the train alone would have taken months to tat. It must be some kind of imperial heirloom. What would I do if I destroyed it? Would His Majesty be angry or cancel the wedding? What if he decides he doesn’t want a klutz for a wife?” Lilya scrubbed her face and sighed forcefully. “I need some air.”

She went to the long gable windows and unlatched one side, letting it swing open. The night air was cool and refreshing, and the aroma of the nearby gardens was soothing.

As she was about to close the window again, a wild gust of wind rushed in and caught up the veil, blowing it out of the window.

“No!” Lilya yelled, throwing her foot out of the window and jumping to the ground. It was a good thing her room was on the ground floor. She chased the veil across the lawn until it eventually got caught in the branches of a tree.

“Oh, come on!” She groused. The branched were too high for her to reach, so she was going to have to climb the tree in her nightgown to get it back. It didn’t help that there were no low branches for her to grab on, so she was basically going to have to shimmy up the trunk. How dignified.

“Okay,” She said, taking a breath before she started up. One foot, one hand, over and over. It seemed to take ages, and when she looked down, it was as if she hadn’t moved at all. “Ugh, I shouldn’t have stopped working in the stables. I have no core strength anymore.”

She was nearly at the lower-most branch when her foot slipped and she lost her grip, falling from the tree. She expected to hit the ground pretty hard, but she fell onto something soft. Looking around, she realized to her horror that His Majesty,  was on his back underneath her, having broken her fall. He was dressed in a casual white buttoned-up shirt and simple black slacks, likely his sleepwear.

“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry!” She said, scrambling to get off of him. “Are you alright?”

He pulled out a small pad of paper from the inside of his shirt and a fountain pen.

~I’m fine. Are you alright? Why were you climbing a tree at this hour?~

“My veil,” She replied, pointing at the branches. “It flew out of the window. I was trying to get it back down.”

~Why didn’t you call the sisters?~

She laughed a little self-consciously. “I panicked. I was scared that I’d tear it and you’d be upset with me.”

~I wouldn’t be upset over such a trivial thing. It’s just a piece of fabric.~

“How did you know I was out here?”

~I saw you from the window of my suite. I was worried you would hurt yourself or that you were running away.~

She was a little alarmed. “Were you chasing me down to bring me back?”

~No, I was going to watch over you until you got somewhere safe. Don’t worry, you’re free to change your mind at any time. I wouldn’t hold that against you.~

“Oh,” She said, surprised. “Your Majesty, I have no intention on going back on my decision. I meant it when I said I’m happy to be your bride. You feel the same, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up and easily reached the branch with the veil. He was quite a bit taller than she was. Pulling it down carefully, he folded it and handed it back to her.

“Sorry to have caused you trouble,” She said, worried by his silence. “I’m afraid you’re bride-to-be is a little clumsy.”

~It’s nothing. Let’s go back.~ He held out his hand for her to stand up, and she took it, feeling sad.

He doesn’t want to marry me, She thought. He’s just doing it because I’m the only one who didn’t refuse him. I like him very much, but he doesn’t feel anything for me. That’s not fair to him.

The triplets met them back at the castle and escorted her back to her room. His Majesty left her in their care with a bow and went back to his quarters.

“Just call us next time, My Lady!” Garnet said. “His Majesty would be devastated if anything happened to you.”

“He might be inconvenienced, but I think devastated might be too strong a word,” She said. “He doesn’t even really want to marry me, he just thinks he has to.”

Peridot scoffed. “Why on earth would you think such a thing?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m just the only person who accepted. I’ve only seen him once since the marriage interview, and that’s because he was rescuing me from a fall. He doesn’t really want to be with me.”

“My Lady, that’s absurd, of course he wants to marry you!”

“How can you be sure?”

“Look,” Aquamarine said as they reached her room. She opened the door and lay the veil back on the mannequin with the dress. “You see this? Where do you think it came from?”

“It’s an heirloom, right? Something that’s been in the royal family forever? It couldn’t have been made just for me, there wasn’t enough time for that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Garnet said. “His Majesty himself made this gown for you.”

“He did?” Lilya exclaimed, looking more carefully at the gown.

“Yes, with his magic. Do you know what he said to us when we were waiting outside of the office door after you agreed to marry him?”

“What?”

“’She said yes!’ he said. Every interview before always ended the same. He would tell us, ‘I don’t like her’ or ‘she’s lying’ or ‘she looks like she’s going to pass out, take her back to her room and let her go home’ or ‘why do they keep sending these women with dirty souls to me?’ He always sounded so dejected. But when you accepted, he was so excited. I’ve never heard him sound so happy.”

“Miss Lilya, you must understand,” Peridot said. “His Majesty’s mother died when he was born, and he was raised by nurses. In truth, he grew up never knowing the love of another person. Now as a man, he has no idea how to express affection for others. Until now, it’s never come up as a problem, but he sincerely wants you to be happy.” She pointed at the dress as an example, and then to the pad of paper on her desk. “You see those notebooks?”

“Yes?”

“Ordinarily, those would only be in one place: and His Majesty’s office, since that is the only place His Majesty meets with people who can’t hear him telepathically. But now, every single room in the castle has a notebook, just in case you’d like to talk to him. He’s doing everything he knows how to do to make it comfortable and easy for you, he’s just operating outside of his, admittedly, vast expertise. Give him some time. He’s very intelligent, if a little dense and insensitive. He’ll learn.”

Lilya smiled softly, touched. “I had no idea.” She pulled the sisters in for a hug. “You’re right, I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. His Majesty and I don’t know each other well, for all that we’ll be married in a few days. I think when he gets back from the diplomatic trip, we should spend time rectifying that.”

“I think that’s a lovely idea,” Aquamarine said.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[dhwty-writes]

Surprise the Child Surprise

It's my birthday and I can't celebrate because of Covid. So, I decided to treat myself (and you guys) to some self-indulgent birthday fluff. The last scene is a bit emotional but besides that nothing bad happens, no angst, no drama, just 4,6k words of happiness. Enjoy! 

Summary: Jaskier and Geralt almost forget Ciri's eighteenth birthday and Jaskier just won't have that. He plans on celebrating it as it should be. Everything goes horribly wrong - until it doesn't. 

Read on AO3

Jaskier woke with a start, cold sweat pooling at the base of his spine with the dreadful feeling that he had forgotten something.

Now, that wasn't unusual, not really; he forgot things all the time. Only this time his mind cleared with the horrible certainty that it was something important.

He sat up, heaving in the mild spring air while he took stock of his surroundings, desperately searching for whatever he had misplaced. It wasn't his bag, that was beneath his head, and it wasn't his lute either, that was tied to Roach's saddle – which meant that he hadn't forgotten his witcher either (not that that happened often, but, to his shame, it had been an occurrence in the past). They hadn't forgotten Ciri either, she was sleeping peacefully on the other side of the fi- ‘wait a fucking minute.’

"Geralt!" he hissed quietly. The witcher grunted in his sleep and blindly groped around to pull his lover close. Jaskier jabbed him sharply in the ribs. "Geralt!"

"What?" he snapped and opened his eyes, alert for any danger. "What the fuck, Jaskier?" he growled when he noticed that they were the only ones around. "It's the middle of the night."

"I know!" Jaskier whisper-shouted. "Be quiet or you'll wake Ciri!"

He groaned and flopped back down. "Don't I deserve the same courtesy?"

"Shh!" he made again. "It's about Ciri!"

"What's about Ciri?"

"It's almost Belleteyn," he informed him solemnly

"So?"

"So, your child surprise is about to turn eighteen years old."

"Shit happens," Geralt grunted and turned to his side. "Lie down and go the fuck to sleep, Jaskier."

"What do you mean, shit happens?" he gasped, doing a very poor job of keeping his voice down. "We have to do something about it!"

He sighed exasperatedly and rubbed at his temples. "We can't stop a birthday, bard. Now get back here, so I can sleep."

"I don't want to stop it, idiot!" he hissed. "I want to celebrate it."

"Jaskier!"

"What?"

"Not now!"

"Right," he mumbled dissatisfied and moved to lie down beside him in his outstretched arms. He sighed content when Geralt wrapped himself around him, and even threw one leg over his hips to keep him in place.

And while Jaskier's body settled down, his eyes drooping tiredly, his mind wasn't quite able to shut down. There were a lot of austerities on the Path, Jaskier knew. His foot started tapping nervously. In the past twenty-eight years he had learned to live with the blisters on his feet and the reappearing holes in his clothes as well as the occasional dry spells, both in a literal and a figurative sense. But not celebrating Cirilla coming of age? That surely went too f-

"Jaskier," Geralt groaned.

"Yes, my dear?" His foot stopped twitching as he focused on the rumbling in the chest behind him.

Geralt nuzzled his neck gently. "You're thinking too loud."

"Right, I'll just stop doing that!" He rolled his eyes. "Great idea, Geralt, why didn't I think of it myself?"

He groaned wordlessly and tightened his grip on him. "Please," he whispered, "mercy. Anything to let me go back to sleep..."

Jaskier sighed. "Just keep holding onto me?" That usually helped him ground himself. He knew that Geralt was right. It was no use driving himself crazy now. He only hoped that his tireless mind that knew no rest would come to the same conclusion soon.

In the end, he must have fallen asleep, for Jaskier woke the next morning with a terribly foul mood that usually came with not enough rest. Ciri was joking around with him, completely unsuspecting of anything and Geralt didn't stop shooting him reproachful glances that he translated as ‘told you so’.

They broke camp a bit slower than normally but soon they were back on the Path again. Ciri galloped off on her mare a few times while Jaskier and Geralt enjoyed a more leisurely pace, Jaskier using her absence to continue conspiring with a hushed voice: "Geralt," he hissed and leaned over to him.

Geralt rolled his eyes and pushed at his shoulder. "You're going to fall off," he chided.

"Pfff, fiddlesticks!" he scoffed. Still, he sat upright in Pegasus' saddle again. "We need a present," he determined. "A good one."

The witcher shook his head disbelievingly. "I still don't know what all that fuss is about."

"She's coming of age, Geralt!" He threw his arms open wide, tugging sharply on the reins in the process and Pegasus snorted in annoyance. "This is a special day!"

"What are you two talking about?" This time Jaskier truly almost fell off.

"Ciri!" he exclaimed while trying to regain his composure. "Melitele's tits, you scared the living daylights out of me!"

She snickered mischievously. "Twenty-eight years on the Path, Jaskier, and still that jumpy. By the looks of it I'll soon be the one protecting you!"

"Well, that only speaks of your prowess with that sword of yours," he answered light-heartedly. "But I assure you, I won't be in need of your defence in the near future."

Geralt snorted. "You couldn't handle anything more dangerous than a very determined squirrel."

Jaskier gasped in mock offence and swatted at him while Ciri laughed. "How dare you?" he bristled. "I could handle a very determined rabbit at least! Besides, I trust that you will burden yourself with the duty to rescue me from any further possibly lethal situations. Just as you did in the past."

Geralt hummed quietly but it was a soft hum, the kind that always managed to set butterflies loose in Jaskier’s stomach. ‘After all these years,’ he thought happily, ‘I am still the luckiest man on the continent.’ And how could he not, with his quiet witcher by his side, who showed his love daily in a thousand ways that never required words.

"So, what were you talking about?" Ciri asked curiously and brought him back to the present.

"You don't want to know," Geralt grumbled the same moment that Jaskier winked exaggeratedly and said: "Oh, nothing, dear."

She wrinkled her nose. "Gross," she declared and spurred off again.

As soon as she was gone, Jaskier shot Geralt a pointed look that said as much as 'Do you understand why I wanted to talk about this at night now?' and the witcher sighed.

"Fine," he conceded. "But no dramatics."

Jaskier gasped and clutched his chest dramatically. "I would never!" A wide grin spread on his face. Secretly, he had been making plans for months. He already knew what gift he would present her with, he knew what cake he would order in a bakery. He even knew a nice quiet clearing with a lake in the area where he had once deflowered a fair maiden but now it would be perfect for the birthday celebration of the Lion Cub of Cintra – who he really should stop calling Cub, now that she was a woman grown, come to think of it. With the xenovox he even could invite the rest of their little family.

“Jaskier…,” Geralt growled as warning but it only made him grin wider. He was sure that everything would go just perfectly. 

~*~

"This is horrible!" Jaskier croaked and sniffled.

"Come on, Jaskier," Geralt said softly, "it's not that bad."

He coughed violently and clung to his lover. "I'm sick, Geralt," he lamented in a whisper, the loudest sound he could manage, "I'm sick and can't sing. This is a catastrophe as terrible as there ever wa-" The rest of his tirade was drowned out in another fit of coughing.

"Shhh," the witcher made and rubbed his back soothingly. "Don't overexert yourself. And stop talking, you're only making it worse."

"You sound entirely too pleased with my miserable condition."

"I assure you; I am not. I prefer your singing to your whining. I mean it, though. Stop talking."

He rolled his eyes and shot him a look that said as much as 'as if that's ever gonna happen'. Judging from Geralt's snort the witcher found his own joke hilarious, too. "You're horrible!" He swatted at him. "I am lying on my deathbed and-"

"I assure you; you are not."

"-you are still treating me badly. I don't even know why I put up with you!"

Geralt smirked. "I've been asking myself the same thing for the past three decades..."

Jaskier let out a strangled shout and punched him weakly in the chest. The witcher only laughed and responded with a kiss. 'I guess it does have advantages to have a lover who can't get sick,' Jaskier mused.

"You're cute," Ciri said fondly as she stepped through a portal onto the clearing.

"Ciri!" Jaskier exclai- well, tried to exclaim and whispered instead. "Oh, I am so sorry that I am in this wretched state today of all days," he said and tried to scramble to his feet only to be promptly pulled down by Geralt again. "Stop that, you donkey arse, I'm trying to wish your daughter a happy birthday."

"The sentiment is very much appreciated," Ciri told him and squatted down beside him, "but I am not the incapacitated one." She smiled softly and held out a vial. "Got you medicine. Drink up, Jaskier."

He scowled angrily which undoubtedly resulted in a ridiculous pout, but didn't try to resist too much when Geralt uncorked the vial and held to his lips. He did complain, though; it was one of his greatest strengths after all. "That tastes like piss," he lamented.

Ciri laughed and arched an eyebrow. "And you know what that tastes like because...?"

He winced. "That's a story for when Uncle Lambert gets you drunk the first time this winter."

Geralt's grip on him tightened. "No, he won't."

"Sure," Jaskier drawled and winked at Ciri who grinned excitedly. 'Just you wait,' he mouthed and made grabby hands towards her. "Can I give you your annual birthday hug at least?"

"That you can!" She wriggled closer and batted Geralt's hands away. "Scoot, you can have him again, later. Right now, it's my turn for the best hug on the Continent."

Pride welled up inside him when he heard that as if he had just won the Oxenfurt bardic tournament. And even though he was not willing to admit it there was a tiny tear in the corner of his eye when he pulled her close. "Happy birthday, Ciri," he whispered, the tears stealing his voice as much as his ailment. "I'm so, so very proud of you, cub."

"Thank you, Jaskier," she answered, her voice just as heavy as hers.

It felt nice and Jaskier allowed himself to sink into that feeling until- "Who are you and what are you doing to my daughter?" the sharp voice behind him startled him and he tried to scramble away.

"Yennefer, what the fuck?" he croaked hoarsely.

The sorceress just laughed and even Geralt snorted amused. "Gets you every time. What is that, a knee-jerk reaction, or-!"

"Oh, ha ha, very funny," he rolled his eyes only to be pulled into another hug.

"Oh, shoo!" Ciri said and held on tighter. "I'm not done here yet and I'm the birthday girl. Besides, I'm his as much as I'm yours."

'Huh,' Jaskier thought as he closed his arms around her again. ‘Whatever she means with that.’

To his even bigger surprise, Yennefer agreed: "Yeah, we did a pretty damn good job raising that little rascal." There was a tiny pause. “All three of us did.”

Geralt hummed and closed his arms around him again. 'Oh,' Jaskier thought as he realised what they were saying and there was no stopping the tears now. He had never thought himself as part of Ciri’s chosen-few of educators doubling as parental figures. ‘And yet,’ he thought, ‘here we are.’ “Are you serious about that?” he whispered quietly enough that he hoped Yennefer didn’t hear.

“Sure am,” Ciri answered and squeezed him tightly.

"Are you crying, bard?" Yennefer mocked, but there was no true edge to her voice. "That's pathetic."

He sniffled and raised his middle finger in response. The sorceress laughed and Ciri slowly let go. She got up and walked over to her to receive her birthday wishes, too. Jaskier used the time to get comfortable in Geralt's lap again.

The witcher had already congratulated her early this morning when Jaskier had still been certain to meet death on the damp forest floor somewhere in Kovir of all places. After ten pathetic minutes of his whining, Ciri had taken pity on him and opened a portal to go get medicine somewhere. He hadn't asked where but knowing her mother — or rather any of her parents — there was no way there wasn’t some level of illegality involved.

"So, I guess we're staying here for today?" Ciri asked, turning towards them again.

"That was the plan anyways," Geralt mumbled.

"The plan?" Ciri asked disbelievingly. "You had a plan?"

"Now come on, Cub, that would hardly be the first t- yeah, shutting up," Jaskier mumbled as he saw the three pointed glares directed at him.

"Please," Ciri mocked, "you don't do plans. None of you."

"That's untrue," Yennefer chimed in, "we do, in fact, do plans.”

Jaskier added: “Alas, they’re always deferred by fate.”

“They’re shitty from the start,” Geralt concluded.

They all shared a hearty laugh which ended in another coughing fit from Jaskier. Geralt fell silent as once and glared at him angrily. "If you don't stop talking now," he growled, "I'll gag you."

Ciri and Yennefer gagged in unison. "Gross," Ciri declared. Ridiculously, he was relieved to see that. 'Come on, Jaskier, she's not a completely different person just because of one stupid day,' he reminded himself. But when Geralt squeezed his hand, he knew that he was not alone with his thoughts.

"So," their daughter asked as she sat down against a log, "what was the plan?" She looked at them expectantly.

Geralt 'hmmed' and made no apparent attempt to start talking. Jaskier rolled his eyes but determined to elude a smelly rag shoved into his mouth – he had no doubts that the witcher would go through with his threat – he kept his mouth shut and began jabbing him in the ribs with his finger instead while he gazed at him pleadingly. "No," the witcher said sharply but began talking at least: "Jaskier wrote a song for you. Wanted to serenade you. Pity he can't do that now."

Yennefer snorted. At least Ciri smiled sympathetically. "I'm looking forward to hearing it. Once you can hold a note again."

Jaskier hit Geralt sharply in the ribs with his elbow and made grabby hands.

"Will you be able to keep from singing, if I hand you your lute?" the witcher asked doubtfully.

He nodded eagerly and Yennefer shook her head, laughing loudly. "Liar."

Geralt patted Jaskier's head but made no attempt to fetch him his lute. Defiantly Jaskier crossed his arms. Not that anyone of the present people cared for it.

"There's also cake," Geralt continued. "Jaskier insisted."

"Where?" Ciri arched an eyebrow. "With the horses?"

"Hmm."

"Ah. I think you mean to say there was cake." She pointed her thumb at where Roach was happily munching out of- the black saddlebag the cake was stored in.

"No!" Jaskier croaked and jumped to his feet. "Bad horse!"

But before he could dash over to her, Geralt caught him by the scruff and pulled him back down. "Bad bard," he growled. Yennefer and Ciri didn't even try to hide their laughter.

"This is the worst birthday I've ever planned," Jaskier moaned woefully. That alone sent the two women into another fit of laughter and once Geralt clamped his hand over his bard’s mouth and they resumed their discussion with wide gestures (Jaskier) and pointed glares (Geralt) they were positively howling with laughter.

"So," Ciri said, once she had recovered. "You wanted to stay here for a whole day doing what? Listening to one song and eating a cake?"

"Of course not! Who do you take us for, Ciri?" Yennefer asked. "I wouldn't dream of punishing you with one of the bard's mediocre songs as your only present."

He showed her his middle finger. Again.

She smiled brightly and continued: “There’s a banquet table waiting for you behind another portal. With proper cake.”

He held up his second middle finger, too, for good measure. At least until Geralt pressed his hands down again.

"Show her," he told Yennefer and Jaskier sat up a bit more. Geralt had refused to provide him with so much as a hint for whatever he had planned for Ciri's birthday, but judging from his secretiveness it had to be huge.

"Are you sure?" the sorceress inquired. "It was your idea, after all."

The witcher just shrugged, and then Yennefer shrugged, too, and handed Ciri a velvet pouch. "Happy birthday, ugly one," she told her with a soft smile.

The girl looked at them questioningly before opening the little bag. She turned it upside down and Jaskier leaned forward to get a better look. They gasped in unison when the silver chain slid out. "Where did you get that?" she asked disbelievingly as she traced the wolf's head on the medallion with her thumb.

"Found it years ago," Geralt said simply as if he hadn't just gifted her an incredibly rare artefact of his school. "Was waiting for the right moment. Gave it to Yen for safekeeping. Thanks."

"Well...," the sorceress said, "I might have... modified it."

"Yen...," Geralt said reproachfully but she only raised her hands in innocence.

"Don't worry! None of the original qualities are lost. I know this stuff. After all, I've done it before." She tapped the amulet around her throat. "Remember Ellander, Ciri?"

She nodded, her eyes still on the medallion. "I couldn't look away from it."

Yennefer smiled. "This is just the same."

She raised her eyes. "Geralt..."

Jaskier felt him shake his head behind him. "It's nothing. You're a witcher, aren't you? Trained in Kaer Morhen like the rest of us. You're meant to have one."

Without any sort of warning, Ciri flung himself at Geralt, trapping Jaskier awkwardly in the midst of their hug. "Thank you," she said over and over again, "thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you."

Jaskier uncomfortably cleared his throat. "Umm- D'you want me to?"

"Shut up, Jaskier," they said simultaneously. Ciri let go with one arm to point at Yen. "And you! Stop pretending and join the hug!"

"Now that's no way to talk with your mother-" Ciri and Jaskier groaned and rolled their eyes. "Fine," she decreed. "Just don't think too much of it." But then, to Jaskier’s astonishment, she came over and hugged them, too. 

Ciri sighed happily. "This is the best birthday I could have wished for," she confessed. "And the best family, too." And, in the end, that was all that mattered.

Yennefer stayed for the rest of the day but when they all woke up on the next morning, she had already said goodbye to Ciri and vanished without a trace. Geralt insisted on waiting for another day but Jaskier wanted to hear none of that. He was feeling well enough, he claimed, and they could resume their travels.

~*~

It took a week for his voice to fully return and another for him to find a quiet moment to finally give Ciri her present. Geralt had gone off to- do something, he was sure and he approached Ciri nervously.

"Hey," Jaskier said softly and sat down next to her, gently nudging her with his shoulder, "watcha thinking about?"

"Hmm," she made stoking the fire until sparks danced up into the night. "Just... stuff."

He nodded. "I imagine," he agreed but made no attempt to press her further. She wasn't like Geralt in that aspect. He knew she'd open up eventually.

After a while she asked: "Do you think we'll ever know peace?"

"The continent? I'm sure of it."

"No," she shook her head. "We. You, me, Geralt. Yennefer and Triss. Lambert and Eskel. All of our little family, I mean. Do you think we'll ever have a place to call home? Where we won’t have to fear?"

Jaskier laughed at that. "Who knows? There's nothing certain in life, little cub, you should know that. There might come a day when you and Geralt sheathe your swords. A day when the last portal closes behind Yennefer. Or there might not be. There's something that won't change, though, and that's a promise."

"And what's that?"

"Wherever you go, my songs won't be far behind. You'll never be alone on your Path. And that's a little bit like home, too, isn't it?

Ciri smiled. "I guess it is."

"Now, I believe I promised you a song, didn't I? Would you like to hear it?"

"Yes, Jaskier, I very much would."

"Great!" He shot up and wheeled around, lunging for his lute. He slung the lute strap over his shoulders and bowed with a flourish that made Ciri laugh. "Ladies, gentlemen and noble steeds," he announced, "I present to you my newest creation: The Ballad of the Lion Pup." He hesitated for one moment. "Just- this is for your ears only, Ciri. I mean every word of it, but no living soul must ever hear it. Do you understand?"

“I know.” She nodded solemnly and tipped her head back to gaze at the stars. "Just sing it already, Jaskier."

"Right..." he said and gingerly plucked the first few notes of the song. Then, he began to sing:

 In a time of dark and blood and war

There was a princess fair.

And though she knew the woes of life

She did never despair.

 When the White Sun rose above our heads

And the Lioness did fall

The Lion Cub then quickly fled

To escape from Nilfgaard's thrall.

 For years she ran, for years she searched

For a wolf as white as snow.

And when they met, their fates entwined,

It was the end of all their woes.

 Up north inside the White Wolf's den,

The Lion Cub did grow.

Amidst the stone and winds and ice,

New life and love did rise.

 And though she had arrived a Cub,

She never left as that.

The Cub did turn into a Pup,

Part of the White Wolf's pack.

 The White Wolf was the first to love,

His destined Child Surprise.

And so, the Wolf both strong and rough,

Held the young girl when she cried.

 The wise Grey Wolf taught what he knew,

As he'd done for all his life.

So, in the Den life grew anew,

The pack again did thrive.

 The Strong Wolf and the Small One, too,

Loved their Pup just as much.

For after years of grief, they knew,

The glory of a laugh.

Then there joined into the fray,

A lonely Griffin in his nest

At night they loved to sing and play

Whatever they loved best.

 In sorcery she was well trained,

For witches she knew two.

And so, the Pup a sister gained

And then a mother, too.

 Do trust that this whole song is true,

For I was there, as well.

And I loved her 'til the end of time,

So, believe the tale I tell.

 In a time when our whole world burned

There was a princess fair.

But she was loved and loved in turn

So, she did never despair.

 The last notes drifted off into the night and Ciri looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered.

There was a quiet harrumph from the edge of the trees and Jaskier spun around. "Geralt!" he exclaimed happily, taking in the fond expression on his face. "Did you listen?"

"I did," he confessed quietly opening his arms for the bard. He quickly set his lute down and hurried over to him.

Ciri got up with an exaggerated sigh and roll of her eyes. "Ughh," she said and grabbed her bedroll, "I'll set up camp elsewhere."

"Don't go too far!" Jaskier called after her.

"Don't be too loud," she replied, obviously doing her best to sound annoyed and failing miserably. "I fucking hate it when you're loud."

Jaskier snickered quietly and turned to loop his arms around Geralt's neck. "Just like her father," he whispered against his lips, "feigning annoyance to mask her softness."

"Hmm," Geralt made and kissed him. "I'm doing a better job, though."

"No, you're not. And I love you for it." He pecked him on the mouth.

"I also seem to recall another father of hers who's horribly dramatic. And whines three days about splinters up his arse after sitting on a log I told him not to sit down to."

"That's not fair." Jaskier wrinkled his nose. "You see, you don't have all the facts."

"Which are?" the witcher asked and pulled him closer.

"That I happen to be endowed with a rather shapely arse," he replied grinning cheekily, "which you aren't allowed to touch if there's so much as a sliver of wood in it."

"Hmm," Geralt made contemplatively and lowered his hands to grasp his backside firmly. "I'm not convinced. Might need to get a better look at it."

Jaskier laughed loudly and dove in for a kiss. "That you shall have," he promised and tugged him towards their bedrolls.

When they laid side by side afterwards, as naked as the day they were born with tangled limbs and mingled breaths, Jaskier sighed contently. "So," he said, pillowing his head on Geralt's chest, "some review? Three words or less."

"Shapely arse indeed," he mumbled, his voice heavy from exhaustion and bliss.

He slapped him lightly. "Not that, you idiot witcher. The song. Did you like it?"

"Hm." Geralt buried his face in Jaskier's hair. "Loved it. Love all your songs."

"Really? Because I seem to remember some comment about my singing and its resemblance to a fillingless pie."

He groaned. "Fuck, Jaskier, that was years ago."

He snickered. "Always love to tease you about it."

"I'm aware." After a short pause he added: "Can I ask you something?"

"Always, darling."

"In your song... It's not like the songs you sing about me. It's not about... her deeds."

"No," he agreed, "it isn't."

"Why"

"Because the people needed reminding that you were their protector all along. With Ciri they need reminding that she is more than just their protector. As does she herself." He propped himself up on one elbow and gently stroked Geralt's hair. "In a century or five or ten, stories of her will fade. They won't remember the colour of her hair, or her favourite food or that she fell in love with that lovely girl three months ago." Geralt shot him a bewildered look and he sighed. "Though I can hardly hold it against them if her own father didn't know."

Geralt scowled. Tired as he was, it was the most adorable effigy of a pout. "I still don't understand."

"They will always remember her heroics," he explained patiently. "That's not what's important, though. The important thing is that she's loved and loves in return. And that she never forgets it."

"Hmm," he hummed and frowned even harder. "I love you."

Jaskier blinked stunned for one moment. 'Oh Geralt,' he thought as soon as it hit him, 'you only needed to ask.' In his mind there were a thousand odes to Geralt's love already, a myriad of songs that had never been sung, never out loud, at least. Not even when it had been only him had he dared to do that, but now- "And I love you, too," Jaskier sighed contently and snuggled closer. He kissed him on the cheek. A promise, a sacred oath between them, understood without ever saying the words. 'I'll sing of your love, too.'

His mind was already drifting off to sleep when he heard Geralt whisper: "There's peace in your arms for me. There's a home in your songs. With you, there’s nothing I fear."

With a content smile on his lips, Jaskier slept. Peacefully.

[theladyofdeath]

Wanderer {2}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfiction. Elain x Azriel. Modern AU.

Links:

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They stared at one another, the world going still around them. It was a bright and sunny day, the weather warm as Azriel stood in front of his car, his stuff loaded. He had come to pick up Elain, but she stood in her front yard, hands empty.

It seemed like hours had passed since she said the words.

But it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes - seconds, even.

“I don’t understand,” Azriel said, at last, completely caught off guard.

“I’m not going,” she repeated, begging her voice not to break.

“You’re not going,” he said, slowly, attempting to register the words. “What the fuck do you mean you’re not going? Elain, we’ve been planning this all year, and now you’re telling me...that you’re not going?”

“No,” she breathed. “I’m not.”

Azriel hesitated. “And why the fuck not?”

He never swore like this around her, never used such language, never had such anger in his voice. It broke her heart.

Everything about the situation broke her heart.

But her father was sick. He had told Elain the night before that they found cancer, that it was spreading, that it didn’t look good. Nesta was away at school in the north, and Feyre...she deserved better, had dreams of going to art school next year. 

Elain had offered to stay, to help, to take care of him.

Even if it meant giving up her own plans of going to Adriata, to university, with Azriel. She loved him, of course, as much as she thought she could love someone. 

But she loved her father, her family, too.

“If you’re staying, then so am I,” he said, with that stubborn crease between his brows. 

“No,” Elain breathed, the word hardly coming out.

Azriel stilled. “Why?”

The word was hard, cold, and Elain knew that what she was about to say, what she had to say to make him leave, would be her ruin.

“I don’t want to be with you anymore,” she said, hardly more than a whisper. “I don’t want you here.”

Azriel said nothing. He watched her, jaw locked, as tears streamed down her face. Then, he let out a loud, humorless laugh. “Wow.”

“Just go,” she begged.

“I..” his words trailed off as he shook his head. “Damn it, Elain! Was this your plan, then? I was just some high school fling, someone to warm your bed until graduation came? Until summer ended? Huh?”

No, she wanted to scream, but instead she said, “Yes.”

“Okay,” he spat, raking his hands through his messy, dark hair. But then, the tension in his shoulders faded. “Elain, I fucking love you, okay? I love you, don’t do this, come with me. Come with me, yeah? Come with me, Elain.”

A sob broke loose, shaking her frail frame. “I...I can’t.”

His voice was quiet as he asked, “Don’t you love me?”

“No,” she said, having to force the word out. “I never loved you.”

That silence returned, nothing to be heard except for Elain’s soft sobs.

“Fuck you,” he breathed, and when she met his gaze, it was a whirlwind of shadows and pain. Broken. He was completely, utterly broken. “I should’ve known. Someone like you with someone like me?” He laughed, loudly, horridly. “What a fucking joke.”

She wanted to tell him how perfect he was, how much she adored him, but couldn’t, wouldn’t.

Instead, she said, with dry eyes, “Exactly. Goodbye, Azriel.”

She turned her back to him and walked away, back up to her house.

She forced herself not to look back.

Then, he left.

~~~~~

“Be good for Aunt Feyre and I’ll come get you in a little bit, okay?”

Amelia nodded, jumping into her mother’s arms for one last hug. 

“We’re gonna go see Uncle Rhys at work,” Amelia said, excitedly.

“Is that so?” Elain asked, looking over at Feyre.

“We’re just going for a little ride on the water,” Feyre grinned. “And maybe get some ice cream.”

“Yes!” Amelia yelled, jumping in the air with her arms raised.

Rhysand owned a little boat shop on the docks. He took Amelia on one of the many boats from time to time, and she loved it. Mostly because ice cream was always involved. And for a six year old, ice cream was a staple.

“Alright,” Elain mumbled. “Well, eat dinner first.”

Feyre rolled her eyes as Amelia said, “Mooooom.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I suck the fun out of everything,” Elain laughed, walking to the door and turning the open sign around so that it read closed.

“That’s our que,” Feyre sang, taking Amelia’s hand. “Have fun. But not too much fun.”

Elain blushed furiously. “Yeah, okay, thanks.”

“Bye mama,” Amelia said, as she walked out of the door with Feyre.

“Bye, my love,” Elain said, eyes soft as she watched them walk away. 

She assumed Azriel would be arriving soon so she had to finish closing up the shop before he did. It had been a slow day, both with customers and time. The time seemed to drag on and on, each second passing with a ridiculous amount of anxiety fluttering in the pit of Elain’s stomach. She had picked up her phone ten times throughout the day to text Feyre, asking for Azriel’s number so that she could cancel. But she didn’t, because if she did, she would just criticize herself for being a wimp. 

She needed to talk things out with Azriel, as much as the thought terrified her. There had never been closure, and she needed closure, they both deserved as much. For the sake of their group of friends, they needed that closure. Now that he was back, Elain needed to be able to be around Azriel with no awkward tension.

Even so, by the time Elain had closed up her shop, she felt the need to vomit.

It didn’t help when she spotted Azriel, standing outside of her shop, leaning against the hood of his jeep, smoking a cigarette. 

He spotted her watching him through the front glass and smiled, softly. She held up a finger, letting him know she would only be a second more. After hurrying to the back room, she grabbed her purse and looked into the long, distorted mirror on the wall.

Good enough.

After a few deep breaths, Elain was turning off the lights and exiting her shop. With her key, she turned the lock then spun around to face Azriel, who was watching her curiously.

“Hi,” she breathed.

“Hey,” he said, taking the cigarette from between his teeth. “Sorry,” he said, a small smile on his plump lips as he put out his cigarette. “I know you don’t like the smoke.”

She hadn’t, even when they were in high school. He was always sure to put it out the moment she came into view. 

“Bad habit,” she said, eyes bright.

Azriel laughed, quietly. “True.”

“Ready?” she asked.

He nodded, and held out his arm, gesturing for her to lead the way. They walked down to the end of the block where the crosswalk was and went across the street to the little coffee house across from her shop. They both ordered before finding a little table near the corner window and sitting across from one another.

A thousand different small-talk questions raced through Elain’s mind, but none of them seemed good enough, so she was glad when Azriel began with, “I didn’t think you’d agree to come with me, I have to be honest.”

Elain stilled. “Why not?”

Azriel gave her a knowing look, but cleared his throat before he said, “Let’s not pretend like we don’t have a history.”

The words were not cruel, and his tone was light, but the words still made Elain’s chest ache.

But she nodded. “Fair enough. But that was so long ago. We were only kids, then.”

Azriel nodded, slowly. “True. A lot has happened since, it seems.” 

“I would like to hear about it,” Elain said, propping her chin in her hands. “All that’s happened.”

Azriel’s grin widened, although his lips remained pressed together. Elain could count on one hand how many times through the years she had seen Azriel’s teeth when he smiled...all of those times being when they were alone. It was a rare thing, to see a full-fledged, teeth-bearing grin from Azriel.

She remembered it being the most beautiful of sights. 

“Well,” he began, sheepishly, “I, uh, graduated, obviously. Found a job in journalism, fairly quickly, which surprised a shit ton of people - myself, included.” Elain chuckled as Azriel went on, “Other than that, I must say, I haven’t been all that exciting. Uh, lived in a nice apartment, near the beach in Adriata. Made a few friends, I guess. Dated a little, nothing that worked out. Mostly I just did a ton of writing. I actually just got my first book published, so...we will see.”

“I heard about that,” Elain said. “And that’s incredible, you deserve it. You’re a beautiful writer, always have been. I was waiting for it to be released so that I could be one of your first of many customers.” 

She could remember the countless nights they laid together, tangled in the sheets, Azriel reading to her from his notebook of drabbles and poetry. 

“I don’t know about many,” Azriel said, modestly. “But, hopefully some people out there will enjoy it.”

“It’ll be a hit,” Elain said, meeting his bright gaze, “I know it.”

Azriel cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. He had never been one for compliments. To his pleasure, a waitress came with a black coffee for Azriel, and a caramel mocha latte for Elain. 

“Enough about me, though,” Azriel said, fiddling with the handle of his mug. “How about you?”

Elain had no idea where to begin. Her life the past few years had been a roller coaster. “Well, I’m sure you know I married Graysen,” Elain began, staring at the top of her coffee. “We got divorced two years later, but I can’t be too mad because he gave me Amelia, and she’s incredible.”

She decided to leave out the part where Graysen cheated, and that was why they had divorced in the first place. She also decided to leave out the part where he moved to the other side of the continent, not caring that it meant he wouldn’t be a part of his child’s life.

When Elain looked back up at Azriel, though, he was watching her with that same little smile. “I’ve seen pictures of her, your daughter. She’s beautiful. Looks just like you.”

Elain nodded, her smile widening. “Yeah, she’s a great kid.” 

“And does she play?”

Elain couldn’t help but laugh. “No. But, I haven’t played since before she’s been born, either.”

She used to play piano, used to be good at it, too. But that had been long ago. “I see you finally got your shop,” Azriel said, then, gesturing across the street. “Looks like you’re doing good there.”

“Yeah, I haven’t been open for long, but it’s been going well,” she agreed. 

“That was the dream,” he noted. “You always wanted to brighten the world with your flowers.”

Elain could feel herself blushing as she took a sip from her mug. “And you wanted to write. Looks like we both got what we wanted.” 

“Yeah,” Azriel said, quietly, but his smile had faltered, his eyes remaining locked in hers. “I have a box of copies, of my book, if you want to read it. I mean, I’m technically not supposed to give them out yet, but I gave everyone else one.”

Elain huffed a laugh.

“No pressure,” Azriel followed, quickly. “I mean, I won’t be upset if-”

“I’d love to,” Elain said, smiling brightly. “Absolutely.”

“Great,” he said, and left it at that as he pressed his cooling coffee mug to his lips. 

They only made short talk after that. She asked him about his years in Adriata, about the university and his favorite parts of the city. He asked more about Amelia, and Elain was happy to share all the little facts and details about her little beauty. They sat there until their coffee was gone, and then some, until the sky outside had turned dark.

After they decided they’d occupied the table at the coffee house long enough, they decided to take a walk along the Sidra.

They kept a healthy distance apart. Not too much distance, close enough to show everyone else that they were familiar with one another, but they didn’t stand so close that those who passed them thought they were too familiar with one another.

Even if Elain wondered what closing that distance would be like, after all those years.

“So he just left, huh?” Azriel said, hands shoved into his pockets as the breeze coming off the SIdra blew at his dark hair. 

Elain nodded, arms crossed over her chest. “Yeah. Doesn’t call, doesn’t write. Likes a picture of her every now and then on social media and sends her a gift for her birthday, but...other than that, we haven’t seen or heard from him in three years. She’s okay with it though, you know? She was so young when he left that Millie doesn’t remember much of him.”

“It seems you two have a great relationship,” Azriel said. 

“We do,” Elain agreed. “She does with my sisters, too.”

“I’m sure,” Azriel smiled, stopping to look out over the water. “Still, I’m sorry you had to go through that with Graysen. He’s a prick for leaving.” 

Elain sucked on her bottom lip as she followed Azriel’s gaze, to the slow, flowing water of the river. Her smile was gone. “Look, Azriel, the way we left things…”

“You don’t have to-”

“Yes, I do,” she breathed, and turned to face him. “Azriel…”

“Please,” he said, and when he met her gaze, his eyes were full of shadows. “I left, that’s the end of it, let’s move on.”

“Move on?” she asked, incredulously. “Az, we’ve been moving on for nearly a decade. Don’t you think-”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered. 

“Well, I do!” she said, voice rising, then looked around to make sure she wasn’t causing a scene. In a quieter voice she said, “I do.”

Azriel’s jaw locked as he stared at her for a long moment. “Fine.”

“I just…” she sighed, shaking her head. “I’m sorry for that day.”

He watched her for a long time before he said, “I’m sorry about your dad. He was a good guy.”

He had died a year after Azriel had gone away.

“He needed me,” she breathed. 

“I know,” Azriel said, plainly.

Elain looked down at her feet. “The things that I said though, Az...I didn’t mean them.”

He said nothing, and Elain didn’t want to meet his gaze. At last, he said, “We both said things we grew to regret.”

“I wanted to go with you-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Azriel interrupted, then took a deep breath. “Not anymore.”

Elain nodded, and they fell into a tense, uncomfortable silence. There were a million things she wanted to say, had thought of what she would say to him for years if she got him alone, but none of them seemed to come out now, none except for I’m sorry. 

“I should have told you the truth all those years ago,” Elain said. 

“I found out later,” Azriel said.

“I know,” she breathed. “But...I thought that if I told you the truth, you wouldn’t go. If I told you that I had to stay to take care of my dad, I thought that you’d stay with me.”

“And that was such a bad thing?” Azriel asked, but there was no bite to his voice.

“I wanted nothing more,” Elain answered, honestly. “But you deserved to go the University of Adriata, Az, it was your dream school and I wasn’t going to stand in the way of that.”

“So you made me hate you, instead,” Azriel said.

The words hurt worse than Elain had expected them to. “Yes.”

Azriel nodded, slowly, watching her. “It didn’t work.”

“What didn’t?” she asked, quietly.

“I never hated you,” he whispered, eyes soft. “I could never hate you. I was pissed, but there was never any hatred.” 

“Well, don’t worry, I hated myself enough for us both,” Elain said.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he said, honestly. “All of it.”

Elain nodded, then looked back out over the Sidra. “Well, I, um, should be getting Millie. It’s getting late.”

Azriel didn’t even question it, he simply walked her back to her car and she drove away after a casual goodbye.

Eight years it had been since she had seen him, standing in her driveway, telling him he wasn’t good enough to be loved by her. The words still haunted her, but she couldn’t regret it. He had gone away, went to his dream school, is getting published. 

She looked over in her passenger seat, where his book sat, the copy he’d gotten for her out of his Jeep.

Part of her couldn't wait to read it.

The other was terrified of what was inside. 

The thoughts of the man she had told wasn’t good enough.

The title of the novel was, Somewhere in the Void.

~~~~

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[noladyme]

The Frog Princess. Chapter 8

She had no wish to be bound down to anyone, but Y/N none the less found herself being dragged across the continent; to marry King Foltest of Temeria.  Instead of pomp and spectacle; she was accompanied by the witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Their travels would bring both monsters, lust, love; and heartache. All sound tracked by an endearing buffoon of a bard, named Jaskier.

TW: Violence, language, sexual themes. Rated M.

8

We rode for days, due northeast; each mile we put behind us bringing me closer to my inevitable end. At least, that was how it felt. I felt my limbs growing stronger from riding and carrying wood for fires; and though the sun was never shining brightly; my skin grew more tanned by the day.

Geralt had begun to train me with the sword he’d taken from O’Dimm’s man. I wasn’t a skilled swordswoman by any means; but I was sure I’d be able to defend myself in a fair fight. We made breaks for eating, resting, training, arguing, making up; and the occasional fuck against a tree – a least once a day, on a bad day.

On one of these occasions; in his eagerness; Geralt almost ripped the buttons off the breeches Ajvin had given me. “Fuck!”, he growled. “I don’t like these things; they make it too difficult to have you”. “You were the one who insisted I need new clothes”, I laughed. “Besides, practicality over easy access”. I opened the buttons myself, and slid down the breeches over my bottom; before bracing myself against a tree with my hands, and pushing my backside out.

Geralt accepted the invitation, and felt for my wetness; before pushing himself into me, slowly. “I thought you were in a hurry”, I breathed in complaint. Geralt pulled himself back; and slammed back into me, hard. “Shit!”, I cried out. “Too much?”, Geralt chuckled hoarsely. One of his hands held on to my hip; the other found my nub, and stroked it to the rhythm of his thrusts. “W-why do you always ask that?”, I panted. He slid his arm around my torso, and took a light hold of my throat; pulling me flush against his chest. “I don’t want to hurt you”, he said, kissing my neck. “You haven’t yet”, I smiled; before groaning loudly, as he pushed himself hard into me again.

He let me come before finding his own relief – as always; inside me. I suspected it was his way of making his mark on me – even if we both knew there was no chance of a child coming out of it.

After cleaning myself up – with a clean wet cloth provided by an embarrassed looking Geralt – I straightened my clothes. I’d had to make alterations to them – clearly they were Ajvids own old clothing; including the purple shirt that hung low on my shoulders. My new outfit furthermore consisted of dark grey breeches, that I’d adjusted so they hung snugly to my frame – making a certain witcher have to occasionally adjust himself, when I bent over – and a dark brown leather jerkin, without sleeves. I still had my grey cloak; which kept me somewhat warm during the nights, when Geralt had to patrol the area around our camps for sounds he’d heard – and therefore could not lay next to me.

There was a strange domesticity to our days. As if we’d be travelling like this for the rest of our lives. But we won’t, I kept reminding myself.

The man travelling with me – my lover, my friend, my confidant – was transporting me closer and closer to a land further from mine than I had ever been. The man who spent most of his nights between my legs and staring into my eyes; was handing me over to a stranger, who would from then on have a claim on doing those things himself. The thought made me sick to my stomach; but I kept returning to it, to remind myself – so that my heart wouldn’t break as much when the day came that our journey was at an end.

The glade we were occupying was quiet. Food had been scarce for a few days, as we hadn’t come across any villages; and it seemed that most of the wildlife had fled. I sat by the dying embers at our fire, thinking.

“I want to see Mousesack”, I said, catching Geralt of guard. “Why?”, he asked, voice gruff. “He has information for me. The butcher’s wife said so”. Geralt poured a bowl of water over the embers. “He’s going the opposite direction than we are”, he said dismissively. “Who’s eager to reach our destination now?”, I mumbled.

Geralt went to pack Roach’s saddlebags. He still kept our horses apart, for fear that Bayrd should act on his carnal desires towards his mare. “I don’t want to do this now”, he said. “Do what?”, I asked. “Fight”, he answered. “I’m not fighting”, I said, standing to kick dirt into the smoking ashes in front of me. “I’m stating facts. You made a contract to transport me to Temeria. You are acting on it. I’m just surprised you were in such a hurry to get rid of me”. I clenched my jaw.

Geralt grunted, and continued his task, moving on to Bayrds saddle. “I understand it, you know”, I said, putting on my cloak. “You’re a witcher. I age; and you do not. Besides, you’ve already had me every which way you could want”. “Stop…”, he muttered. “It’s inevitable that you were bound to get sick of me at some point…”, my voice broke. “Stop!”, he roared.

He strode up to me; and took my face in his hands. “Y/N”, he said. “You are the furthest thing from easy to be around. You are stubborn; rash; you never listen… and your mushroom stew is bad enough to kill a dead man”. He put his forehead to mine. “And I would have you no other way. I wish I could keep you; but that’s not how destiny has made it”. “Fuck destiny”, I snarled. He chuckled. “If only I could”, he answered. He kissed my forehead; and wrapped his arms around me. My eyes welled up, and I cried against his shoulder.

“I have to see Mousesack”, I whispered through my tears. Geralt exhaled. “I know. But I don’t know where to find him for you”, he said. “We can’t go backwards…”.

He was interrupted by a rumbling of hooves, that almost made the ground quake. He pushed me towards the trees. “Go! Cover your face. Don’t let them see you!”, he hissed, and pulled his sword from his back. I ran to Bayrd, and grabbed my new sword; then fled towards the edge of the trees; crouching behind the largest one I could find.

The riders approaching bore Cintran colors. It was a large group; of about 20 men; all dressed in armor. I saw Geralt glance in my direction, before facing the rider at the front.

“Witcher!”, the man called. “What is your business so close to Ortagor?”. Geralt relaxed his stance. “I have a contract”, he answered. “A bruxa. Near the border of Sodden”. “And your companion?”, the man asked. “I have no companion”, Geralt said. “Since when do witchers travel with two horses?”, the man barked.

Geralt put his sword back in its sheath. “No answer?”, the soldier said. “You’d do best to respect your betters, mutant”. Geralt clenched his jaw. “Right!”, the soldier called to the men behind him. “Take the mare. As a gift for her majesty’s war efforts”. Geralt snarled and went to draw his sword again.

“Calm the fuck down, Thaggert!”, a familiar voice called. “I have enough horses. Besides, I like the stallion better”.

From the middle of the group of riders, strode a tall woman; dressed in intricately decorated armor. She got of her horse, and walked up to Geralt; flanked by two of the soldiers. “Witcher”, she hissed. I recognized her instantly. Calanthe. The Lioness of Cintra!

“Your majesty”, Geralt grumbled; and nodded slightly. Nothing in the world could get him to bow to anyone, I knew that – something that at that moment made me fear for his life.

“You made a promise!”, she snarled. “I did, your majesty. And I am upholding that promise as we speak”, Geralt answered her. “I am here for a contract”. “What contract?”, Calanthe demanded. “As I told your man”, he replied. “Bruxa. Near Sodden”. Calanthe spat at the ground. “Horse shit”, she said. “We were just coming from Sodden; no word of vampires there. Tell me the truth”. Geralt exhaled slowly. “Men!”, Calanthe called. The soldiers drew their swords.

“He’s here with me!”, I yelled; and stepped out from behind the tree. Geralt looked at me angrily. I sent him an indifferent look back. “You? Show your face girl”, Calanthe barked.

I stepped into the glade, and pulled down my hood. Calanthes face lit up. “Y/N!”, she laughed. “What are you doing here, girl?”. She stomped up to me, and took me in her arms for a tight squeeze. “Lower your weapons, men. This is the lady Y/N, my husband’s cousin”, she said; and patted my cheek. “And; the future queen of Temeria!”.

The soldiers on the ground took a knee, and the ones still on horses bowed their necks to me. I felt a strange knot in my stomach. “Where is your guard, girl? Your following?”, she asked. I nodded in the direction of Geralt. “Him?”, Calanthe asked; frowning bewilderedly at me. “He is… my guard”, I answered. Calanthe stepped back, looking from me to Geralt. “What in Hels ass was Eist thinking?”, she snarled. Calanthe was married to a Skelliger, not one herself – but she had taken on some of our profanities; at least the ones she liked.

I walked towards Geralt. “My cousin seemed to find it a necessity to keep my travel arrangements a mystery to certain parties. So, he hired the witcher”. The queen laughed sarcastically. “Oh, I am going to have words with my husband”, she growled.

One of the riders called out to her. “Your majesty; Ortagor awaits your arrival”. Calanthe sighed. “Yes, yes. Someone is always awaiting my arrival”, she groaned. “We take them with us. The lady rides along side me… the witcher takes the back. Keep an eye on him”.

Geralt sent me a poignant look, and went to saddle up on Roach. Before he got all the way over to the mare; Calanthe grasped his arm and looked at him – her eyes ablaze. “If it wasn’t for my cousin-in-law, your head would be rolling on the ground!”. Geralt tried for a mediating expression. “Your majesty…”. “Don’t!”, Calanthe hissed. “If I hear you’ve been asking about the child – even so much as mentioned Pavetta – I’ll personally cut of your bollocks, and feed them to my dogs!”.

My heart dropped. Geralts eyes found mine for a second; before falling to the ground. Calanthe let go of his arm, and went back to join her men.

I went to saddle up, my hands shaking so much in the process, I almost lost my footing in the stirrup. One of the soldiers on the ground grabbed my calf; and helped me up. I could feel Geralts eyes on us.

---

The ride to Ortagor wasn’t long; but it felt like an eternity. I was deep in thought.

“How is my husband?”, Calanthe suddenly asked from beside me. She’d caught me off guard. “What?”, I said. She chuckled at me. “I said, how is my husband?”. I smiled. “Well, last I saw him. No less annoying, no more regal”, I said. “Good”, the queen laughed. “And his bed?”. Her eyes were suddenly hard. “Empty, save for him”, I assured her. She grunted, satisfied.

We rode on in silence for a little while. “And… the princess Pavetta. How does she fare?”, I asked as casually as I could. Calanthes face hardened slightly. “About to pop”, she said. “She’s going the way you came. Eist convinced me she should give birth in Skellige, for some reason”. I felt a rush of blood to my head. “Oh!”, I said. “I didn’t know. Congratulations!”. Calanthe scoffed. I tried to smile. “And the father is?...”. “Not who I would have picked”, she snarled. “But... no matter now. The child will be loved and raised by the right people”. I smiled and nodded; wanting to scream.

We arrived at the fortress of Ortagor to great fanfare; the crowds cheering for their queen. All around people were celebrating the arrival of the Great Lioness; with drink and music. Great, I thought. Another feast. Just what I needed. I was in no mood for any celebrations myself.

We unsaddled, and followed the queen towards the great hall. I suddenly felt a tug on my arm. Geralt was looking at me with hard eyes. “Little frog…”, he said. “Not now”, I stopped him, and pulled my arm from his grasp.

“Witcher!”, Calanthe called from behind us. “Lady Y/N is perfectly safe within these walls. We have no need for you. Go do whatever it is, your kind do”. Geralt clenched his jaw. “My kind eat, drink and rest when we can”, he said. She looked at him dismissively. “You can do that at the other end of the hall; where I don’t have to look at you”, she said. “Come, girl. We have feasting to do!”.

I followed the queen into the hall – having much rather wanted to find a dark corner to calm myself. As the door opened; horns blazed a salute. “Yes, yes. Fuck off. I’m here now”, Calanthe growled, and threw her helmet at a servant. “Music!”.

A familiar voice began a song I had heard before.

“Once a lady from Kaer Trolde fared, with skin so smooth, and beautiful hair. She held the heart of many a man; but mouths stood agape, when she speaking began.”

Jaskier!

“Foul mouthed lady, be kind onto me And I’ll be your thrall, I will never flee. Foul mouthed princess, have mercy, I plea And I shall be ever a servant of thee”

The crowd sang along to the chorus.

“The foulmouthed princess of the Skellige Isles The foulmouthed princess, the foulmouthed princess, the foulmouthed princess of the Skellige Isles!”

Jaskier strummed the last chord to a roar of applause. He bowed and sent air kisses to a buxom redhaired girl standing nearby.

I sat down next to Calanthe at the head table; and soon food and drinks were placed in front of us. Catching Jaskiers eye; he rushed over. “Your majesty”, he said; and bowed so deep his nose was almost touching the floor. “My lady Y/N!”. “You know each other?”, Calanthe asked. I cleared my throat cautiously. “We met in Skellige”. Calanthe grinned. “No…”, she laughed. “You’re the foulbreathed princess?”. “Foulmouthed, your majesty”, Jaskier smiled. “I’m quite certain there’s nothing wrong with the lady’s breath”. I chuckled nervously. “My lady, where is…”, he began. “The witcher”, I interrupted, sending him a poignant look. “He is somewhere in the hall; probably buried in some servant girl’s cleavage”. Jaskier narrowed his eyes. “As he does…”, he said.

Calanthe threw a gold coin at the bard. “Go. Do your work, minstrel. I want music and cheering. It’s been a long day”. Jaskier bowed. “As you wish your majesty”. He sent me a final look, and went back to the makeshift stage in the middle of the room, to play for the dancing crowds.

“So”, Calanthe said, smiling at me. “You’re on your way to Foltest, I’m told”. “I am”, I replied. “You seem… less than pleased”, she continued. I sighed. “Am I supposed to be pleased to be shipped of to a man twice my age? – with an inbred daughter to boot…”, I said; and took a sip from the goblet in front of me. Calanthe tightened her lips. “Temeria is not much different than Skellige”, she said. “Less water surrounding it… The winters are cold as a witch’s tit, but the summers are bearable”. I scoffed. “It’s not the weather that concerns me”.

Realizing the quail in front of me had been served without utensils for carving it; I pulled my knife from my boot, and cut in to the bird – ravished from the last few days lack of real food.

Calanthe smirked. “Travelling with the witcher has made you rough, Y/N”. I looked down at my dirty nails; realizing she was right. “I told Eist to get you your sgian-dubh for your 15’th birthday”. Calanthe and Eist had been sending each other eyes for years before they were married in a small ceremony, I’d heard very little about. She’d visited for my coming of age celebration years before – mostly, I think, to see my cousin. “He wanted to give you a new dress”. I laughed out loud. “Of course he did”, I said. “Yes, well”, she continued. “I would have gotten one for Pavetta, but apparently that is cultural appropriation”, she sneered. I held my tongue.

She looked at me solemnly. “He cares for you deeply, Y/N. I know this isn’t the union you’d dreamt of… but it is the right move”. “For your war?”, I said hesitantly, careful not to look the lioness in the eyes – admittedly, she scared me, and for good reason. “It’s true”, Calanthe admitted. “Foltest has promised his help in the war effort, in return for his marriage to you; and the dowry you bring with you”.

We were quiet for a while. ���The witcher”, the queen began again. “He protects you well?”. I half smiled. “He does”, I said. She took a long sip from her goblet. “And in bed?” My face turned white. “I-i… that’s not…”, I tried. “Come now, Y/N”, Calanthe smirked. “I’ve seen how he looks at you”. “And how’s that?”, I said; trying for dismissive. “Like you’re a freshly cooked rabbit; and he hasn’t eaten in a week. Reminds me of how Eist would look at me, before he had me the first time”. She smirked, and took a bite of her quail. “More like a frog”, I muttered. “What’s that?”, she asked. “Nothing”, I answered.

She leant back in her chair, and looked at me seriously. “He’s not a good man, Y/N”, she said. ”I’m beginning to see that”, I answered.

We ate the rest of our meal in silence; only interrupted by the occasional lord coming forward to wish health on my upcoming marriage. I wanted to stab each and everyone of them in the neck.

---

A guard was posted outside the room I had been given for the night. It was larger than the one Geralt and I had shared in Tigg, and much grander in its decorations. A large bed with beautifully embroidered bedding; rich carpets decorated the walls and floor; a table set with fruits and wine; a roaring fireplace, and – thank the gods – a warm bath in front of it.

I shed my dirty clothes, and stepped into the tub; lowering myself into the water, until only my face was above the surface. For the first time in days – weeks – I was alone. And I cried. I wept so long that it felt like there were no tears left in the world. My chest hurt from the contractions of my sobbing; and I was beginning to struggle for breath in the end.

I heard a skirmish outside the door. Someone was banging loudly at it. “You can’t go in. The lady is not to be disturbed!”. “She’s in my charge, and I’ll see her!”. I recognized Geralts voice.

I stepped out of the tub, and put on the clean robe that had been warming by the fire. Opening the door, I saw Geralt pressing his lower arm against the neck of the guard; forcing him against the wall. Two other guards were holding their swords to his back.

“It’s fine”, I said. “Let him in”. “But my lady; Queen Calanthe made it perfectly clear…”, the man against the wall said. “Fuck off, dingleberry”, I growled; earning a gasp from all three guards. Geralt removed his arm from the man, and the three guards slowly stepped back. “Foulmouthed princess, indeed…”, I heard one of them mumble, as they walked away.

I stepped aside for Geralt to enter the room. He looked around; as always ready for an attack from any corner. They’d taken his weapons and armor, it seemed; as he was left with only his plain clothes. “The bathwater is cold”, I said; and sat down by the table. Geralt grunted and went to stand by the fire.

“I heard you cry”, he said. “From where?”, I asked. “From the courtyard”. I covered my face in embarrassment. “No one else heard you”, he said. “Right…”, I mumbled; remembering his enhanced hearing.

Geralt went to take my hand; and examined my face. “What’s wrong?”, he asked. I pulled my hand away from him furiously. “A 15 year-old girl, Geralt”, I snarled. “How could you?”. He looked genuinely confused. “The child!”, I said. “And here I thought witchers couldn’t procreate”. “We can’t…”, he grumbled.

I stood up, and threw an apple into the fireplace; cracking it against the back wall. The juices dripped down, and made the fire sputter. “Then, why…”, I growled, punching him as hard as I could in the chest; “… is princess Pavetta on her way to Skellige to give birth to your child?”.

His face went from confused, to relieved – to finally; angry. “You think I would get a girl pregnant, and then just leave her? A princess, no less?”, he scoffed. “Do you not know me?” “No!”, I yelled. “I don’t know you. At all!”. He took a step backwards. “No”, he said. “It seems you don’t”. He walked towards the door. “We leave in the morning. Your husband will want to see you soon”.

I lost all composure. Picking up the entire bowl of fruit from the table; I threw it at his back; grapes, oranges, plums and apples splattering across his shirt. And then I screamed.

Geralt growled, and sped at me; grabbing my shoulders, and throwing me on the bed. I clawed at his face – doing my best to scratch him – but he held my wrists down. “Stop!”, he roared “Go to Hel!”, I screamed. “You can go right along with me, woman!”, he answered.

I wrestled myself free from his grasp and struck at his head. He narrowly avoided my hand by rolling onto his back; and I straddled him – once again getting my wrists caught in his grasp.

Suddenly the door opened, and the three guards were standing in the opening. “My lady!...”, one of them called. “Get the fuck out!”, Geralt and I roared at the same time; staring at the dumbstruck men. They silently closed the door. “Bloody crazy, that one”, I heard one of them say through the door, as they walked away.

I got off Geralt; and laid on my back next to him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”, I said. “There’s nothing to tell”, he answered. “But you have a child on the way with another woman!”, I half whimpered. “And you are marrying another man!”, he grunted. I sat up and shook my head in exhaustion. “I never wanted to marry him!”, I said. “And I never wanted a child”, he muttered. I stood up, picked up an orange from the floor, and threw it at him. He sat up, and looked at me angrily. “Would you stop throwing fruit at me?”, he snarled.

I scoffed. “You never wanted a child”, I hissed. “Maybe you should have thought of that, before you stuck your dick in the 15 year-old lion-cub of Cintra!”. “I didn’t!”, he roared, making me jump. “It’s a child of surprise!”.

He walked over to me slowly; prepared for more flying fruit. “It was an accident”, he said. “I didn’t know she was pregnant, and neither did the father when I asked him for the law of surprise. I thought it would earn me a keg of ale at the most”. I laughed, and shook my head. “A keg of ale?”, I said. “You stupid man…”.

He put his hands on either side of my face. “Yes. Stupid enough to fall for a woman, who by rights belongs to someone else”. He put his forehead to mine. “Stupid enough to want your heart, when I know it’s not mine to have”.

I put my hands on his chest; and grabbed at the fabric of his shirt. “What are we doing, Geralt?”, I whimpered. “Everything wrong, it seems”, he groaned.

He pulled back from me; holding on to my shoulders; and boring his amber eyes into mine. “I can’t help it, little frog”, he said. “You said you didn’t want to be a part of someone else. But you are. You’ve shaped me; and I’ve shaped you. It’s unavoidable”. A single tear fell from my eyes. “But it doesn’t mean you have to lose yourself; or I myself”, he continued. “It only means that we... change”. I sniffled – embarrassed at my own reaction to his words. “But you said you don’t change…” He smiled. “I have changed. You’ve been a part of that change”, he breathed. “You wrote your name on my life, as I have written mine on yours. No matter where I travel and who I meet; you have made your mark on me. We aren’t an entity; but we are two of a whole”.

I put my hands on either side of his face; and laughed through my tears. “Please stop crying”, he said. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”, I sniveled. “Yes”, he admitted. I laughed out loud. “For someone so uneasy with human emotion, you do have a way with words”, I said. “Only for you, my lady”, he whispered; and kissed my lips.

---

We made love softly that night; taking care to not leave an inch of the other untouched. Geralts lips were the nourishment of my being, it seemed; and he let those lips touch every part of me that would bring me pleasure – seemingly finding pleasure himself, in nothing but the moans and whimpers he could draw from me. I came undone so many times I lost count, and the witcher came along with me. We were two of a whole.

When morning came; we hadn’t gotten much sleep – but for some reason, I’d never felt more awake. I knew what needed to happen. I knew that we would continue on our journey to Temeria; that I would marry Foltest; and that it would break both of our hearts when I did. There was nothing else that could be done.

I could not spend the rest of my life travelling with this man. I’d grow old, and he wouldn’t. I couldn’t be chasing monsters around the continent; when I was old and grey, and my bones were creaking. He could not give me children. Not that I was sure I wanted any; but our lives together would never be truly fulfilled – and his job never truly done.

We had each other now. And should we never see one another again; the marks we’d left on the others being would never be erased.

Geralts head was resting on my chest, and I was running my fingers through his hair; when there was a knock at the door. “Come in, Jaskier”, I called – quickly covering myself with the sheets.

The bard stepped inside; almost tripping over a plum. He looked around the room – stray fruit scattered across the floor. “Well”, he smirked. “Nothings changed here; I see”. He sat down by the table; pouring himself a goblet of wine. “So… when do we leave?”.

Geralt and me both looked at him with wonder. “Whose wife did you diddle this time?”, Geralt grumbled; laying back in the bed with his arms behind his head. I chuckled. “Uhm, sister; actually”, Jaskier replied; and took a sip of the wine. “Mmm! 1249; good year”. “Jaskier?...”, Geralt demanded. “Some lord, or another”, the bard said dismissively. “Apparently Jas… Jel… Jissanya, it was. Well, she’d been promised to Aretuza”. He looked at me apologetically. “They are quite fond of their virgins there. But I can tell you right now; that girl was not a maiden!”.

“Hels ass, Jaskier. Are you insistent on getting yourself killed before the end of the year?”, I chuckled at him. He stood up, looked at me; hurt in his eyes. “What if I told you it was true love?”, he said. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, you’re right. It would never work”, he chuckled.

I went to get out of bed, and gestured for him to turn around. “What?”, he shrugged. Geralt sat up and looked at him menacingly. “All right, all right. It’s not like any of you have anything I haven’t seen before – right, Geralt?”, the bard smirked; and covered his eyes with his hands. “I don’t want to know what that means”, I mumbled, and went to get dressed behind a divider in the corner.

---

We were met in the courtyard by Calanthe and her men from the day before. “Lady Y/N”, the queen said. “I hear there was trouble in your room last night”. My face reddened. “No trouble, your majesty”, I said. “Just… a discussion on our next move”. “Hmm…”, Calanthe frowned, looking from Geralt to me. “I trust you remember our conversation?”. I nodded and smiled. “I remember it well”, I said. “And I trust you, of anyone, will understand why I must live the life I choose, until I have to live the life I must”. Her face contracted into a smile for a second. “I do, my dear”. She sighed. “I just wish you hadn’t chosen as you have”. I smiled again.

“Thank you for your kind hospitality, your majesty”, I said. “And thank you for sacrifice”, she answered. “This is my war; but part of the burden of it has fallen upon you. If I could, I would undo it”. She looked at me earnestly; and then held my face in her hands; putting her forehead to mine. “If Foltest ever… should he ever be cruel to you; I will come up there; and I will rip his cock of with my bare hands”. I laughed. “I might take you up on that offer”. She chuckled, and kissed my forehead. “Be well, cousin”, she whispered.

Jaskier cleared his throat. “I am very sorry to disturb this special moment, your majesty, but I think one of the lords in there has an arrow with my name on it”. Geralt grunted.

“Witcher”, Calanthe said, letting go of me. “You will protect this woman with your life”. “You have my word”, Geralt said, and nodded at her. She narrowed her eyes at him. ”And go north. There are Nilfgaardian outposts further east”. Geralt frowned, and nodded again. “All right”, she said. “Now fuck off, all of you”.

We saddled up; Geralt and me on Roach; and Jaskier on – a quite unhappy – Bayrd.

On our way out the gates; I turned to the bard. “Jaskier; do you like my mushroom stew?”

He didn’t answer.

--- 

Thanks for reading.

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@ayamenimthiriel​

[uncoordinated-house-cat]

pls rant about nicholas ii 👀

dude i am so glad u asked. i mean, u didn’t ask for the entire rant about both russian revolutions, but here u are anyway. (but also im a teenager history student so this is very biased and i checked most of my facts but not all of them so don’t quote me and if a history person who actually knows what they’re doing finds a mistake don’t @ me) ok so nicholas ii was an absolute ********** and had an iq of -1000 and he was still super convinced that he could run all of russia, which is like a freaking huge country with millions of people who are super poor (peasants made up 85% of the population in 1905 when the first revolution happened, the number of people below the poverty line was probably way higher when the actual revolution happened and he got overthrown but bitch had it cOMING) 

so here’s the thing. nick, a spoiled child who let’s say is twelve years old when his dad alexander dies of assassination (omg i googled the dates and HE WAS TWELVE I WAS RIGHT FHDSJKLAFHSD) has been told, since he was a tiny but no less annoying baby, that he was amazing and very smart and was absolutely entitled to rule all of russia and he was like ‘hell yeah bro this is my divine right wahoo guess i don’t have to pay attention in my ‘how to be a good leader’ lessons cos god chose me to be the tsar so i already am one #thuglife’ 

so he met this girl named alix, who was princess of somewhere irrelevant and incredibly religious (and also deluded but that becomes important later) and he falls in love with her and they get married, which is nice but probably not a good long-term decision because through her friend, nick meets rasputin (and i love the ra ra rasputin song but rasputin was very very problematic) and that’s one of the many, many, many stupid things he does that makes literally every single person in russia (again, lots of people) mad at him. but nick is in love, and he marries alix, and this is all very nice if russia was a substantially smaller and easier country to run and nick was actually a competent leader then maybe there wouldn’t have been a revolution! but alas, this was not the case. 

so as we all know, russia is fucking enormous. for people who have never looked at a map in their entire life, this is russia

and it has more landmass than several continents put together. chonky boi. and the capital city where the royal family lives? well, you’d assume it’s somewhere in the middle ish, since russia’s such a huge country and you kinda need to be in the middle in order to have literally any idea what’s going on and stop your people from revolting under your freaking nose, so put it in the middle. 

but nOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. they put the capital in st. petersburg, a place that’s like five minutes drive from finland, estona, latvia, ukraine (although that would probably take a while but u get the point) and LITERALLY NOWHERE NEAR ANYWHERE IN RUSSIA. ARGH. 

i’m pretty sure the reasoning for this was ‘it’s been there since forever and everything was fine then so we don’t need to change it’ cos back when russia was actually a country-sized country instead of the mammoth it is now (we’re talking 1539, and by country-sized country it was still bigger than most of western europe put together), the country was all the way over to the left, where st. petersburg is, so they probably had the capital there foreeeeeeever. even after they expanded and became mcfreaking enormous bc sOmEoNe (not naming names *cough cough* ivan the terrible *cough cough*) decided it would be an awesome idea to have some expansionist policy, yay, and now we’ve ended up with this monstrosity. and while you might think that having a big country is great, it’s not. here’s why:

- so many people. soooo many people

- how u gonna keep track of all of them?? it takes like 8 years to get from one side of this bad boy to the other

- since nobody can control russia cos of all the land and all the people, the culture just goes absolutely backward. the peasants are too poor to afford food, let alone an education, and it’s not as if nicky is gonna build free public schools or raise wages or anything, lol, so the collective russian mindset is a bit of a dumpsterfire

- if, say, a revolution were to happen, which of course it can’t hahaha everybody know’s nick’s the divine ruler and overthrowing him wouldn’t be possible cos everyone’s so thrilled with their life in a very cold place with no food, awful policies, terrible wages and working conditions and a tsar who cares more about hanging out with his family than actually doing his duty as leader of the biggest country in the world?? then the tsar wOULDN’T KNOW THE REVOLUTION WAS HAPPENING UNTIL IT WAS ALL OVER THE COUNTRY AND SOMEONE WAS HOLDING A GUN TO HIS STUPID TINY PEABRAIN HEAD

and nick did not do a lot to help the russian people to live unproblematic, non-poverty-stricken lives. in the early 1900s, there was a big move to the cities cos everyone was moving to the cities which meant there were more educated people getting jobs or going to university and going ‘hey, our wages are shit, nobody has any food and it seems like the tsar is doing a really bad job and just living in the lap of luxury while his entire country suffers?? should we do something about this??’

but he did do something. oh, boy. nicky, looking at all his ancestors going ‘bro aren’t u gonna expand the country that’s literally the one thing russia is good at u can’t break our streak’ went and conquered siberia. then he built a railway, cos he needed a water outlet for trade and stuff. he called it the trans-siberian railway. he wanted to make it really big, and cross over into manchuria, so he had a bit of a war with china which he won and then he built the railway in manchuria. 

meanwhile, japan has been practising their war tactics a lot recently and while they don’t have much of a reputation in the west (like at all, nobody takes them seriously) and they also want to expand and flex their fighting skills a bit, they cross into manchuria and are like ‘i want this land. gimme’ and nick is like ‘nah fam i’m good’ and japan is like ‘>:( one last warning’ and nick is like ‘lol ur country is tiny and my country is huge have u seen all these buff russian soldiers i have guarding the railway i could crush u with my boot’ and then the japanese launch a surprise attack! on the russian squadron at port arthur. nick made the pikachu face, then the russo-japanese war started. 

uh oh, bad decision! looks like the russians are losing and even tho there’s lots of them there are more japanese and they have better battle tactics, so nick sends more soldiers. thing is, everyone in russia is already super poor so they can’t afford to have the [relatively] healthy, working men go off to war and die, cos that’s not practical at all and now they have even less money and food. fast forward, russia loses the war, nick makes the pikachu face again, stays in his nice mansion while the rest of russia starts going ‘grrr’ as well as ‘brrrr’.

and then this dude called gapon who’s a nice priest guy goes to petition the tsar to have better working conditions, fairer wages, a bunch of other stuff but they’re all very fair and reasonable. nick is like ‘nooooo!!’ and his uncle is like ‘nOoOoO!!!!!!1!!!’ and orders the army to shoot the peaceful protesters, so it gets called bloody sunday. this makes everyone really unhappy again, and it’s called the russian revolution of 1905 cos there are a lot of strikes and even while nick is like ‘haha this isn't happening’ they don’t reeeally accomplish much bc nick stays on the throne, and the russians are very mad but not mad or coordinated enough to overthrow the autocracy. there was this new parliament thingo called the duma, because nick’s only competent political adviser, count witte, was like ‘bro u literally have no choice but to form a new democratic government’ and nick was like ‘oh ok what if i made a government but it’s not really democratic or effective bc they have very limited power’ and witte was like ‘nick nO’ and nick was like ‘hehe nick yes’ and the duma was formed

--fast forward to 1917-- *time vworp noises*

so russia is poor. again. everyone is mad. again. all the men have been sent off to war. again. this time, it’s because of world war 1! 

and yikes, the russian army have it bad. like seriously, those dude were suffering lots and lots. very ouchy, no food, too cold, everyone is dying. it wasn’t great.

nick was like ‘hmm this war seems to be going well anyway look at my children aren’t they cute one of them broke an expensive vase today that’s so funny!!!’ (i made that up but he really didn’t care much and spent a lot of money u get the gist)

lots of strikes are happening. nobody is happy, and this time there are actually some organised people who can channel the rage into a revolution that might actually get something done this time. 

by the way, rasputin has turned up!! *cue the ra ras*

so rasputin introduces himself to some lady who’s a friend of alix, and alix, being super religious and super deluded and also having a sick son -

oh yeah, she had like five kids (was it five? not sure it was a lot) and the first four of them were girls and she was like ‘oh my god who’s gonna rule the country i have to have a boy’ and then she finally had a boy and his name was alexei and everything was great until they discovered that he had haemophilia, which is a hereditary illness that means ur skin is super weak or smth and whenever u, like, bump a table and u would normally get a little bruise, instead u start bleeding like you’ve been shot and yeah it was super problematic and it meant alexei was constantly sick and bleeding

- and so alix said to rasputin, who proclaimed to heal people like he was basically jesus, ‘yo dude can u pls heal my son it’s pretty urgent ngl’ and rasputin was like ‘uh huh lemme just take a look at him’ and he had a check up with alexei who somehow healed?? i don’t know how, he just sorta did, (he still had the haemophilia but alix was convinced it was gone for good) and so she turned into rasputin’s Number One Fan and started spouting all his very false religious conspiracy theories and made him a very important member of politics which was Not Good

and then count witte, the sensible one, was like ‘hmm this rasputin fellow seems kinda shady also he has thousands of STIs i don’t think it’s a good look if ur wife is hanging out with him all the time bc there are lots of rumours and he just seems super sketchy i reckon we should get rid of him’ and nick was like ‘no U’

he just uno reverse-carded him. witte tried to investigate rasputin and then nick was like ‘hmm i guess i’ll dissolve the duma cos ur being annoying’ and witte resigned like two days later. fair. if i had to deal with nick on a daily basis, there would probably be a lot of punching (of him, by me, in case u couldn’t tell bc im full of rage)

and there were a lot of rumours going around about alix & rasputin (which was kinda fair, because they hung out all the time and rasputin was a very sus person) so alix’s credibility was questioned and she was accused of selling secrets to the enemy, which was a bit dramatic (im pretty sure it was because she came from germany, and she was called ‘the german woman’ by a lot of the public)

--- also this isn’t very relevant to nick but i thought it was incredibly funny how rasputin died and it was time for a break from all that serious stuff so ~INTERLUDE~ --- 

note: start listen to rasputin by boney m cos this is where it gets hilarious (and the song also narrates his assassination lol)

so nobody liked rasputin. he had a lot of sex with pretty much everyone, he was very religious but also spouted a lot of nonsense, he was involved in some very dubious stuff and he was in favour of a lot of policies that the general public did not want at all. so a lot of people tried to murder him. and nearly all of them failed!! turns out, rasputin is really difficult to assassinate. there were a bunch of attempts on his life, all failed, before this one dude was like ‘bro i gotta put a stop to this’ so he invited rasputin to his house cos he was rsaputin’s bud (his name was yusupov btw)

dude gave him some cakes. they were laced with cyanide (poison) and rasputin was like cronch cronch, nom nom. did not die. ate a lot of cake. 

yusupov was like ?????????????

gave him some wine. wine was also poisoned. rasputin was like ‘dude this wine is good where can i get some more’ and he drank three glasses of it. the wine was poisoned with cyanide as well, btw. and the doctors who had helped plan this had carefully put enough cyanide in each glass to kill SEVERAL MEN. still not dead somehow???? 

so yusupov went ‘ok time for plan c’ and shot him. rasputin was like ‘ow’ and fell over. yusupov checked his pulse, there was now, he was like ‘ok good job’

and then while they were discussing their cover story upstairs, yusupov went back down to check on rasputin’s body and dude was sTILL ALIVE.

so they shot him again, tied him up, shot him one more time for good measure (and they shot him in the forehead at some point but apparently he was still alive???) and then they threw him into a frozen river. where he died of hypothermia, after having consumed enough cyanide to kill dozens of men and being shot three times, one of which was literally in his head. hhhh.

*sigh of relief* he finally died. fINALLY. the dudes who assassinated him got exiled but nothing worse than that because everyone in russia was like ‘well someone had to do it’

~~END OF INTERLUDE~~

now shit is getting rEAL. i mean, not for nick, obviously. but everyone else is like ‘ohmygosh rasputin is dead we actually got something done yay!!!’ 

so it’s february 1917 in petrograd. nick is on holiday with his family 800km away with literally no idea what’s going on. 15 million russians were away at war, and 1.7 million had died. lots of strikes and protests are happening. bIG protests. people were breaking into stores to get food, because of the awful food shortages, and it was very very cold so everyone was slightly extra mad. the police shot at some of the people who had gotten up onto the rooftops, so they protests turned into riots. all the people who were on strike from work joined the riots, and the women workers who had come out for international women’s day marched around the nearby factories and got another 50,000 people (including students and teachers) to join the riots (which was A Lot) and by the 25th of february the riots had gotten so big that pretty much every business in petrograd was shut down. literally everyone was rioting. 

the tsar was like ‘hmm that doesn’t look good’ and ordered his army to shut the riots down. there were about 180k troops in the city, but only about 12k were actually able to fight bc the rest of them were all injured from the war. they didn’t want to suppress the riots by force bc a lot of women were in the crowds (guess chivalry isn’t dead?) so when the tsar was like ‘no u gotta do it’ the troops were like ‘fuck u’ and either joined the riots or yeeted outta there. hooray!! 

the tsar was like ‘ok everything is under control’ (partly bc his official informant gave him the wrong info rip) and didn’t accede to any of the rioter’s demandsor do anything for a while. and here’s the thing. the tsar’s cabinet sent a telegram to nick saying ‘bro u gotta resign, we’re literally on the verge of revolution’ and nick read it, wrote ‘lol’ in his diary and refused to answer. 

the next day, there was another telegram saying ‘bro, u GOTTA resign. the revolution is happening now. if u don’t resign, the entire monarchy will be overthrown and ur reign will be o-v-e-r’ 

and nick wrote an entry in his diary saying ‘what nonsense is this? i can’t believe they’re sending me telegrams about this rubbish, as if i’m going to do anything’ (and im paraphrasing bc i don’t have my book w me but he definitely used the word “nonsense” and wrote a bunch of awful stuff about it) 

the next day, nick got another telegram that basically said ‘welp. country’s over. good while it lasted, revolution is happening now and it’s too late for you to do anything about it bc u didn’t listen to my numerous warnings to resign’ and nick was like ‘wait should i... do something about this??? hmm... yeah!! i’ll go up to petrograd and show ‘em who’s boss!! can’t defeat the absolute power of the tsar, huzzah!!’ 

and he went up to petrograd and got arrested. he had no choice but to abdicate, adn then he and the rest of his family were put under house arrest. there was a bit of an argument about whether they should be exiled to some western country, but all the western europeans were like ‘we don’t want nick u can keep him’ so they put him under house arrest in one of his palaces, where nick pretty much just chilled out with his family until they were all executed because everyone in russia was still very mad at them. 

(and in 1981 nick and his family were recognised as ‘martyred saints’, which is fine for the rest of them but nick absolutely did not deserve it)

thus concludes my very, very long rant. i spent way too long writing this, but my history teacher would be proud of me.

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

BITE DOWN

A new hurt/comfort, isolation, Snowbaz sick fic that wouldn't leave my head and that I cranked out in the last 24 hours. 

Baz and Simon shelter in place in London during the pandemic but they are not aware SImon has been infected until he falls ill. Baz does the care taking as Simon descends into illness and then Baz has some very difficult moments to face and decisions to make. Angst with a happy ending.

*trigger warning from frank descriptions of severe pneumonia and respiratory illness*

BITE DOWN

Day 1

Simon

Penny left this morning. Her mum wanted her home once the shutdown order came through and with her uni having gone all online there wasn’t much point in her staying around.

Other than for me, that is.

She wanted to but I told her that’s daft. She should be with her family. I’d never choose to cross Mitali Bunce and there’s no reason for Penny to, not for this.

I’ll be fine. My classes are all online. I can buy what I need at the corner shop and the curry place is staying open.

And I’ve got Baz. He’s staying too. Spouted some rubbish about not wanting to possibly transmit something to his family, seeing as they’re half-isolated as it is, way out where they are.

And don’t I know it. I made that jog from the road to their place more than once. Isolated doesn’t do it justice. It’s remote.

But I also know that’s not the real reason he’s staying here. I know he’s staying for me, the sappy git.

I tried to make him go. Tried to convince him he should be with his family.

He’d turned his sea-grey eyes on me then and said, “I am with my family.”

There’s not much I could say in answer to that. Not with words that is. I practically knocked him off the sofa in my attempt to snog him senseless. He says things like that and I . . . well, fuck, it makes me believe it’s all been worth it. All that came before.

No, I know it’s worth it. I’d give up my magic again in a heartbeat to have what I’ve got with Baz. Give it all to the Humdrum, fight mutant vampires in the desert, deal with that fucking Lamb character—I’d go through it all over again for him. Every moment of it, to be where we are now.

Together. In love and able to say it. Out loud. To each other.

My therapy appointments are down to once a month now. Baz and I have one together every few months. I was surprised when he started seeing someone, a few months after we came back. After everything had finally settled down.

Fiona found him someone she trusted.

It made it easier for me to do it, once he started. Sometimes I wonder if that’s why he did it. But there’s never been a point in asking him that. It doesn’t serve a purpose. He wouldn’t have kept going if it wasn’t something he needed as well. So why he started doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he did.

And I did.

And we’re here now, better than we’ve ever been.

Well, other than this pandemic shit.

I don’t think it’s going to be as bad as they say. They’ve shut the whole damn country down. Hospitals and clinics at ready. I think it will take time, but it’ll pass.

It’s done a right number on all of our plans, I’ll say that.

Last year of uni for Baz and Penny. I basically fucked away my first year so I’m a bit behind, but still. We’re all moving forward, not looking back.

I hope this doesn’t fuck up Baz’s graduation. He’s top of his class here too, the swot. I want to see that. See him graduate.

I didn’t get to see him give his leavers speech at Watford.

Baz says he’s not fussed about graduation. What he’s fussed about is possibly having to cancel his graduation gift from his parents. They’ve sprung for a two-week vacation on the Continent for the both of us.

I’m part of the gift, it seems. Daphne came right out and said it like that, when they told Baz about it. I thought I was going to go up in flames right there and then.

It’s right embarrassing sometimes, the things she and Malcolm say. I call him Malcolm now, as if that doesn’t take the bloody cake. Took me long enough. (It’s still awkward as fuck, but he likes it so I try.)

It was bad enough when they assumed we were shagging and we weren’t. Yet.

Now they’re even less inhibited. Sending us away on romantic weekend trips. Buying us matching gifts. Asking us when we’re going to move in together (yes, we’ve talked about it) (probably this summer) (or we were planning to, before this bloody thing started) (just hadn’t told anyone but Penny yet.)

But this. This is like some wedding planner’s ideal honeymoon trip. Paris. Venice. Barcelona. The bloody Amalfi Coast.

It’s as if Daphne looked up every romantic location on Pinterest and added it to the itinerary.

Every bloody romantic proposal location, I mean.

That’s what it feels like to me.

Because I’d been thinking to ask him, after graduation. And I’ll be good god-damned if I don’t get to do it first.

Knowing Baz, he’d probably try to get the drop on me, just to be a competitive arse.

No, he wouldn’t actually. Not for this. He’d want me to be sure, he’d want to know I was the one who really wanted it.

And he’d want to see me try to set up something romantic. For him. He’s such a sappy git. I think he’d be just as thrilled if I did it in the Tesco car park as the Eiffel Tower at sunset.

Which is where I’m currently planning on asking, when I let myself think about it. Paris, that is, not the Tesco. Although last week it was a gondola in Venice. And by next week it may well be somewhere else.

It’s not as if I’ve bought a ring or anything yet. I was waiting a bit. Getting comfortable with the idea rather than just letting myself daydream about it.

Not that I’ll be getting any ring shopping done anytime soon.

Not even online, not with his meddlesome self looking over my shoulder when I’m on my laptop, now that he’s going to be here every minute, not just a few nights a week.

He’s here more than a few nights, to be honest, has been for a while. Unless he’s got a big paper or some sort of group project and I’m too much of a distraction.

Baz basically moved in at the start of the fall term. I mean, he still has his place in Camberwell. He’s just rarely there anymore. His clothes fill my closet, he’s got a colourful array of spare pants in the dresser, his toiletries on my sink and in my shower—not travel sized versions carried back and forth in his knapsack anymore.

There’re orderly pints of blood in the fridge and cold vampire feet in my bed every night.

I’m not complaining one bit. It’s taken us long enough to get here.

And so here we are, our coursework done for the day, curled up on my sofa watching Derry Girls again, my head resting on his shoulder.

I’m feeling all right. None of the symptoms they’re blathering on about in the news updates and emails from the uni health centre.

And Baz . . . well, he’s being Baz. Calm in the midst of the anxiety that’s overtaken the city. Meticulous about his personal hygiene and bloody annoying about mine.

Like now.

“Go wash your hands, Simon.”

“I just did, when I went to the loo a bit ago.”

“You just touched your nose. Wash them again.”

“Bloody hell, must you watch me every minute?”

“Not about to change my habits now, they’re ingrained.” He’s smiling, the prat.

“Don’t I know it.”

His eyebrow goes up. “Someone has to, you’re an absolute menace to cleanliness as a rule.”

“Piss off.”

But I love him for it, so I go and wash my hands. I know why he does it. I know it’s out of concern.

I’m being careful. I am.

I’ve not been out other than for a run, not since uni shut down. I mean other than to go to the corner shop for snacks a few days ago. And to the curry place for some samosas yesterday.

Baz has put a stop to all that now though. Said he’s doing the shopping and the food runs from now on. I watched him empty the shopping bags earlier—wouldn’t even let me help, the tosser. He’s stocked up on paracetamol, thermometer covers, zinc throat lozenges, throat syrup, and whatnot.

“Didn’t you get any crisps? I thought you were going to get more crisps?” We’re not going to make it long without crisps.

He just rolls his eyes at me. “We’ve got bags of them, Simon. We’ll be fine.”

Baz

I’m trying not to let on to Simon how worried I am.

I’ve seen the projections. It’s not looking good. This government has bollocksed the entire situation from the very start. Even my father is appalled at the Tories and has not been shy about saying so, which is unprecedented and not doing anything to dampen my anxiety about all this.

It’s end times when my father is to the point of vehemently condemning a Tory government.

I don’t know what Simon and Penelope were thinking. They’ve not stocked up on much other than toilet paper and crisps. I had to purchase the bare necessities today and it took me to two Tescos and one Boots to find any paracetamol.

I do know what Penelope was thinking—that a few well-cast spells would sort it.

She sorted Simon when I thought we’d lose him. I can understand her confidence but it’s wildly misplaced.

This isn’t like that.

This is, for lack of a better term, insidious. Fuck. I hate that word. I can’t use it and not think of the bloody Humdrum. That leads to thinking about the Mage and Simon’s magic and then I’m off on tangents that make me want to rage.

I know it’s been years now. I know he and I have both talked through it, with each other and with Simon’s therapist.

But at moments like this, in the middle of this fucking plague, all I can think about is how much easier this would be, how much safer, if Simon still had his magic. Not that it made him impervious to injuries or illnesses. It didn’t, I know that first hand, from all those nights he’d drag himself up the steps to our turret, bruised and battered and a bloody mess.

But he had a capacity to heal, to bounce back, without needing to be coated in spells. He’s not got that anymore.

But he acts like he still does.

Like he did in America. Like he’s acting now. Like somehow, he’s resistant to it all, that he can barrel through as he is and still come out relatively unscathed.

I’ve put a stop to all that. No more trips to the corner shop or the curry place. No unnecessary activities outside of the flat. None. I’ll be damned if we’ve made it this far only to have some rogue virus destroy it all.

I’m the one who’s impervious. I’m the one who will still be standing at the end of the day, when this is all over. And I want Simon at my side.

I need him to be.

He can content himself with sitting at home, on the sofa, watching the telly. I’ll even buy him some cider, if he’ll just bloody well stay inside.

Here I am, wishing that Simon Snow would just lie the fuck down on the sofa and not argue about it. Who would have thought we’d come to this? Crowley, the world is upside down.

At least now I get to lie down with him.

READ THE REST AT AO3! 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23287240

[four-loose-screws]

FE8 Novelization Translation - Chapter 4, Section 2

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I call this a “section” because it is not a separate part of the chapter in the book, but divided from the rest of the chapter by a scene break.

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Chapter 4: The Pursued Cleric (con’t)

Serafew was a bustling town on the border between Renais and Grado.

The two nations had been allies since long ago, and Serafew had always been a symbol of that friendship. The citizens of both countries lived there with no division between them, and they were able to enjoy many benefits with each other, like trading goods freely.

Yet now, those stories were all in the past. Serafew was now under the Grado Army's control.

Eirika and the others followed a road that was just outside of town, and planned their next strategy.

When they received the report from their reconnaissance team, Seth explained to Eirika, "If we're lucky, their guard will not be very tight. A Grado general stopped here all by themself, but has already left and started moving towards a fort to the northwest."

"A general…?"

Eirika remembered her meeting with Selena in the small mountain village, and it raised her hopes. If Selena was close by, then she wanted to try meeting her again.

"Yes, a man named Glen. He rides a dragon, and rumor has it that he is very strong."

"Glen… Really? He's here?"

Eirika remembered that name. It was only once, but they had met before.

When the continent was still at peace, she'd visited the capital city of Grado together with Ephraim. General Glen was a soldier that Prince Leon trusted very much. He was still young, yet already very dignified, and Eirika was impressed but not surprised that he'd become a general of the empire's large army at such a young age.

"General Glen has already left, and the security within the town is light. When the royal palace of Renais fell, they likely considered guarding this area to be of low importance. We'll be able to put up a good fight at our current strength."

Eirika looked again at the wall around Serafew in front of them.

"It looks like it would be unlikely for us to be spotted from the west gate. Let's enter from there."

They followed Seth's plan and went around to the west side.

As they'd predicted, the security there was indeed light. They hid their weapons and dressed as merchants. Just by doing that alone, the guards said "You may pass," and waved them through as if it was an inconvenience to do so.

"That was so easy that I'm disappointed!" Franz whispered.

At that same time, a man who'd appeared from around a corner approached them.

Eirika and the others were nervous, but the man said in a weary tone, "Excuse me, there's something I'd like to ask you."

He had the face of an intellectual, and was very tall. 

"What is it?" Eirika responded.

"I'm looking for someone. Have you seen a young girl with indigo blue hair?"

"Unfortunately, no…"

The man looked discouraged. He bowed his head to say "Sorry for bothering you," then left.

'The little girl must have gotten lost. Was he her father? Ever since public order started to worsen here, missing children have probably been a concern.' He must have been worried sick. Eirika felt pity for him.

'Should I break some of the soldiers off from the group to help him look for her?' She began to consider, but suddenly, she heard a loud noise come from in front of them.

"After her! Don't let her get away!" Yelled a gruff voice that came along with footsteps that were getting louder and louder.

‘What was that?’ Eirika wondered, frozen in place, when she heard someone make a threat.

"Turn yourself in, traitor!"

Then, she heard a higher-pitched, feminine-sounding voice. She couldn't make out exactly what the woman said, but  understood that she was begging desperately for something. 

A rough man's voice echoed through the air again, cutting the woman off.

"Silence! If you are going to beg for forgiveness, then do it before His Majesty! I was told that if you resist, then I may execute you on the spot!"

It looked like a fight was about to break out. Even without Eirika's orders, everyone immediately unsheathed their hidden weapons.

Eirika rushed ahead with the front line. The place where all the noise was coming from was a plaza atop a staircase.

A woman with a hood covering her hair had fallen over. Judging by her clothing, she was likely a cleric serving the gods. Surrounding her were Grado soldiers.

Though she didn't know any details about what was happening, she could never allow a large group of men to surround a lone woman and try to hurt her. She probably hadn't intended to cause a commotion, but in a circumstance like this one, there was no avoiding it.

When Eirika tried to rush over to her, the cleric stood up in one quick movement.

She took advantage of the men having let their guards down, and ran over to Eirika's army.

 "Are you alright?" Eirika shielded the cleric and asked.

Her feet gave out in front of Eirika, and she collapsed. "Wh… Who are you…?"

"I am a citizen of Renais. What's going on? Why are you being chased by the Grado Army?"

"You're from Renais…? Ah…!" The girl quickly put her hands together in front of her chest, showing her thankfulness to the gods. "There's something I want to tell you! Grado is…!"

However, they couldn't listen to the details at the moment. The Grado Army was coming. Eirika's army all readied themselves for battle.

The cleric quickly whispered to Eirika, "My name is Natasha. I cannot fight, but I am knowledgeable in healing magic."

"Then will you please take care of the wounded from the rear line?"

"Yes. But, before that… I want to try talking to the Grado soldiers."

"Huh…?" Eirika whirled around in surprise. 

Natasha looked serious, and was watching the soldiers closing in on them.

"But they're…"

"Trying to capture me. I know. However, there is something I must tell them no matter what. If things continue on as they are now, then something terrible will happen…"

Each and every word she spoke was uttered with strong determination.

Whatever she wanted to say, it sounded serious. All Eirika’s army could do was protect her as she searched for someone who looked like they would listen to her.

It was an extremely difficult task, but Eirika had made up her mind to see it through. “Then we will be your guard. Please do not leave our sides.”

“Thank you!!”

The battle began. The Grado soldiers immediately started calling out for help, and soldiers rushed in from all four directions to provide backup.

This battle set within narrow city streets was completely different from any they’d fought before. Not only was it very difficult to use long weapons, but the horses’ and pegasi's movements were also limited.

And to make matters worse, although the area was in ruins, it was still where many local citizens made their living. They wanted to keep the damage done to the buildings at a minimum, and had to be careful at all times not to get the common people who had yet to run away involved.

While fighting this grueling battle in conditions that they were not used to, Eirika’s army slew the enemies coming at them.

Both sides fought with the intent to kill each other. It seemed nearly impossible that Natasha would find anyone that she could talk to.

Among the enemy army was one especially strong man. And not only was he strong, but he also had long, fiery red hair, and wore stylish clothing that looked nothing like what the other soldiers had on, making him stand out all the more. This made it clear that he was not a formal soldier, but a mercenary working for money.

His swordplay was, for lack of a better word, whimsical. But though he would crack an occasional joke and move as if he was playing, he always hit his target. His ability to perfectly hit his target's weak points was unparalleled. The other Grado soldiers weren’t very tough, but that one mercenary toyed with Eirika's army and made the battle difficult for them.

The mercenary lightly dodged the opponent attacking him, then landed in front of Eirika as if he was floating. 

Eirika tightened her grip around her sword and shielded Natasha standing behind her.

“Do my eyes deceive me? What a beautiful swordfighter I see over there!” The mercenary said teasingly, then turned towards Eirika and swung his sword playfully.

“I’m so jealous. The Grado Army is full of filthy men. There’s not a person with taste to be found... Whoops!” He repealed Eirika’s sword with a laugh, as if he was playing a game. “You’re pretty good, aren’t you! But you still have a long way to go. Your left side is wide open.”

After they clashed swords a few more times, Eirika realized the difference in their power.

‘He’s too strong. I’m no match for him. I can’t win. He will kill me.’ She shrank back in fear.

Natasha jumped out from behind Eirika in desperation.

“Natasha…!” Eirika shrieked. 

There was no way she planned to talk to this mercenary, was there? It was no use. Eirika couldn’t imagine there was a way such a person, who treated everything as if it were a game, would lend an ear to the cleric’s serious story.

The mercenary also appeared to be completely dumbfounded. He drew his sword back and muttered “Whoa, that's dangerous!”

“Do you remember me? We crossed paths while I was running earlier…”

He looked at Natasha and furrowed his brow, then nodded. “Yeah, you’re that cleric! Wait, are you the traitor!?”

“Were you hired to keep me quiet?"

"I mean… I was told that if I got rid of you, I'd receive a huge reward. That's just how the mercenary trade works, so no hard feelings."

"I do not care about what happens to me. But I want to tell you this. The current situation within the Grado Empire is not normal. If the other countries are not warned about this danger, then all light across the continent will vanish."

He looked down at Natasha apathetically. He seemed to have lost all killing intent, as his word was now drooping at his side.

However, that did not calm Eirika.

This opponent was a mercenary, meaning he was a member of a parasitic group in society who would take on any job for money, no matter how much it dirtied their hands. It was too optimistic to commit to persuading him.

"...You know, I don't care at all about Grado or the continent. No matter what you have to say, it's all the same to me."

Natasha's expression changed to one of complete determination. 

The man smirked, then continued speaking. "Although I'd hate to see a beauty like you be done in by these Grado barbarians. Say, do you like to gamble?"

"Huh?" Natasha stared at him in confusion.

The man reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a small object.

"There's nothing I love more in life. ...Though I haven't a shred of luck. I always lose." The man flicked the object he'd taken out into the air with a clink.

It flipped over and over as it flew in the air, then landed back in his hand, revealing that it was a gold coin. "Let's bet on it! If you win, I will believe you."

"What…? You want me to gamble…?"

"All you need to do is choose heads or tails. So, which one am I holding?"

"...Heads… No, tails…" Natasha said weakly. 

The mercenary's eyes lit up. 

"Alright then, if it's tails, you win. If it's heads, then I win. The anticipation in this moment is incredible, and I can't stop chasing it. Know what I mean?"

Neither Natasha nor Eirika felt any anticipation whatsoever, rather, they felt as if their hearts would jump out of their chests. 

Natasha put her hands together and whispered, "Please, gods, please…"

The mercenary slowly opened up his hand. Natasha swallowed and asked, "Which is it?" 

The mercenary sounded full of himself as he answered, "The result is… tails. Like I said, I'm not lucky at all! Or wait, maybe I am? I do get to become allies with a beautiful woman like you."

"Really? You'll really join us!?"

"Yeah. If you go against a loss, then you'll upset lady luck, and you'll never win again."

Eirika couldn't believe what she was witnessing. Did a person who would leave something so important to a coin flip really exist? It was taboo for a mercenary to betray their contract. If he was captured by Grado, then he may even be executed.

But the man was entirely serious.

"The name's Joshua. Nice to meet ya. Shall we start by cleaning up around here?"

He once again took a fighting stance, returned to his usual whimsical self, then threw himself right into the thick of the battlefield. The only difference was that this time, his opponent was the Grado Army.

"Damn you, mercenary! Are you betraying us!?" Those on Grado's side noticed tha Joshua was coming towards them, and started shaking.

"Yeah, sorry about that." He said with a laugh before unleashing an attack that was frightening in both accuracy and speed.

The tide of battle reversed completely. Eirika's struggling army took back their momentum. The Grado Army, enraged that they were losing, stampeded towards Eirika's army as if they wished to bring about their own ends.

After the battle among the city streets was over, Eirika and Seth moved over towards the rear support group to check up on Natasha, as once she'd finished talking to Joshua, she'd retreated to the rear line to heal the injured.

Moulder stood up from among the wounded and approached Eirika.

When Eirika called out to him and said, "Thank you for your hard work," he laughed.

"This battle was a really tough one. Our army has a lot of injured as well."

"Oh, really…?

"But please feel at ease. They are healing very well. I might not be able to handle this much work all by myself, but the beautiful cleric is working with me."

When Eirika followed Moulder's line of sight, it led her to Natasha, waving her staff as she talked to the injured. They looked not in pain, but happy as they circled around her.

"As you can see, she's very popular. Some of the injured even ran away when I tried to heal them. They said they didn't want me, and asked her to examine them. I couldn't agree to such selfish requests, and when I forcefully healed them, they complained that they missed their chance. My my, how deplorable…"

Eirika couldn't help but laugh at Moulder's disappointment. She was worried that the rough soldiers might scare Natasha, but if that was what was actually happening, then she would be okay.

Natasha finally saw Eirika and the others and walked up to them. The worried expression she'd had on her face during battle was gone, and she was now smiling calmly. "Thank you. How can I ever express my thanks to you?"

"Are you from the Grado Empire?" Seth asked.

Natasha nodded. "I was a helper at a church within the empire."

"Then why are you being chased by Grado soldiers? Can you tell us what's going on?"

Natasha's smile vanished. It seemed that she was holding in something very serious.

She looked away from them and began to speak. "...It happened a few days ago. The bishop who served as my teacher was suddenly captured and executed. He was accused of the crime of treason… but he was framed. The emperor killed him. To silence him."

The harsh words that Natasha had managed to say shocked Eirika. 

Seth also looked surprised, and responded, "To silence him?"

"Yes. Right before he died, he said this to me: 'The emperor is trying to destroy the Sacred Stones.'"

Eirika couldn't believe her ears.

Until she'd heard this, she'd thought that perhaps Natasha had happened to learn something by chance, and that's why she was being pursued. But this secret she'd told them was no such simple matter.

The Sacred Stones were known to all as the stones in which the Demon King was sealed, saving the world from his reign of terror long ago.

There were five in total, and to this very day, one was located in each of the five major nations of the continent, and were considered the most valuable treasures in all the land.

Renais of course was among the nations that housed one of the Sacred Stones. The shrine in which it was placed was guarded as the central location of their religion. The four remaining stones should each be in Grado, Frelia, Jehanna, and Rausten.

Word had it that the Grado Empire was already trying to completely destroy their stone, so the chance that they'd already destroyed it was high. And during the invasion of Renais they had likely destroyed Renais' stone as well...

"Why would the emperor do such a thing?"

Natasha shook her head sadly at Seth's question.

"I do not know. His Majesty has always been.  known for his warmth and wisdom. He is loved by both those who serve him and the people. However, ever since that day, he's been so cold that it's like he's another person… and then he devised a terrifying plan to destroy the Sacred Stones. That is what the bishop told me. He also told me that we must tell the other nations that house the Sacred Stones, for if we do not put all our strength into protecting the stones, then something terrible will happen… I tried to flee the country secretly, but the soldiers found me and started chasing me."

"So that's what's been happening…" Eirika looked at Seth.

He was staring down at Natasha, as if he was trying to see through her, with a stern look on his face. 

"What do you think, Seth?"

"We cannot accept the word of someone from Grado without question. However, if what she says is true, then we cannot ignore it."

"Yes… it is a very serious matter. We must do whatever we can to stop it…" Eirika remembered her bad feeling.

The enemies waiting for them upon their path were not just Grado soldiers. The terrifying shadow of something much bigger was looming over them. Though they did not currently know what it was, right now, all they could do was continue forward.

[all-the-love-harold]

Chapter 3 - Christmas with the Cranks

Master Post 

Word Count: 4.1k 

Warnings: None

December 25th 2019 

  Christmas was Poppy’s favourite day of the year, not because of the presents or even the food, it was having everyone she loved in one place that brought joy to Poppy’s heart. And this year it was even more special because for the first time since she moved to London six years ago,  both her family and Harry’s were able to be there. With a fire roaring in the corner, the living room was filled with chatter and laughter. Linda and Anne were really hitting it off, like they had at the wedding, which, if she was honest, was still surprising to Poppy, since Anne was so lovely and Linda  had a habit of being horribly self centred.Gemma and Addie were busy playing with Oli, whose giggles filled the space with so much joy that Poppy and Harry felt like their hearts could burst. The smell of Harry’s famous roast beef was slowly wafting into the room which had everyone’s stomachs rumbling, except Poppy’s. As soon as she found out that she was pregnant again, the morning sickness had set in, which had her wondering if it was all in her head. 

  “You good?” Harry asked, quietly,  after noticing that her face had turned white for the fourth time that day . Poppy shook her head, quickly covered her mouth with her hand and ran off to the bathroom. The room went silent and everyone's eyes followed Poppy out of the room curiously and then they all turned to Harry. 

“Is she OK?” Anne asked before anyone else could.

“Yep, she’s fine.” Harry nodded, turning on his heels “I’ll go check on her.” He walked out of the room and Oli toddled behind. 

“Daddy!” Oli called after Harry as he walked down the hallway

“Hey buddy,” Harry crouched down so that he was on Oli’s level, wincing as he heard Poppy throwing up in the bathroom. 

“Where’s Mum?” Oli said quietly moving closer to Harry  

“She’s just in the toilet Bud, why don’t you go and show Nanna Anne your new blocks?”

“Yeah,” he smiled and ran off. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. That could have been much harder but the promise of time with his nan was enough to distract him. 

  “Can I come in Pop?” Harry knocked on the bathroom door once Oli was safely back in the living room.  Poppy reached up and opened the door for him. He walked in and grabbed a cloth from the cupboard, soaked it in cold water at the sink, and draped it over Poppy’s forehead. “Everything’s ready to go, are you going to be OK to eat?” he said, sitting down on the ground next to her so that she could lean her head on his shoulder.  

“That might fix the whole problem,” she admitted, smiling wanly, “your kid’s hungry.” 

“Well Dad did cook them a mighty good meal,” he placed his hand on Poppy’s belly, laughing softly.  

“I’m scared Harry,” she whispered  

“Me too,” he said in hushed tones “but I’m trying to stay positive because they said the same things when you were having Oli and look how that turned out!

“But what if that was a one off?” Tears were forming in her eyes now, “what if I can never give you a baby?”

  “Hey, hey,  look at me, ” he waited for Poppy to turn her head so that they were looking at each other.  “Whatever happens, as long as I’ve got you and Oli,  I’ll be the happiest man in the world.” He wrapped his arms around her placed a gentle kiss on top of her head. Poppy wiped the tears from her eyes and sat up. “Let’s not leave them all waiting any longer.”  

Harry stood and offered her his hand to help her up, “I’ll serve you round them up.”

  The dining room was the most festive in the whole house.  That’s where Harry had always put up the tree and this year, Poppy had decorated the table with red and green table runners, the fancy dinner plates that were only supposed to be for special occasions, like the Queen coming to visit, but since Poppy figured that that would probably never happen, Christmas was the next best thing. There were Christmas crackers at each setting and the velvet tones of Bing Crosby played softly from the stereo.  With the whole family sitting in their places and the meal served on their plates,  it looked like a postcard  on the surface,  but if you paid close attention, it wouldn’t take long before you notice cracks starting to appear.    Harry stood and tapped his fork on his wine glass to get their attention. 

  “I’ll keep this short, I promise,” he chuckled and cleared his throat at the same time. 

Linda scoffed,  “Likes the sound of his own voice doesn’t he?” she whispered to John, loud enough for everyone to hear. Her cheeks were already flushed red, a sign of how much she’d been enjoying Anne’s homemade mulled wine. 

   “You’ve probably all heard enough of my voice to last a lifetime” he continued and stared straight at Linda, his green eyes piercing her with such intensity that despite the roaring fire, for a moment there was a palpable chill in the air. With a deep breath, Harry continued,   “but I just wanted to thank the Thomas family for making the trip for Oli’s birthday and for Christmas it’s not an easy flight, so… Thank you for being here, we really appreciate your company and the same to the Styles and Twists, we see you all the time, but it means just as much to have you here. Uh, I’ve run out of things to say, so um, Merry Christmas and dig in!”

   He raised his glass and everyone followed, even Oli who picked up his sippy cup and loudly called out “Cheers!” causing the entire table to erupt in laughter before they took their drinks. Poppy simply brought her glass to her lips to make sure no one was suspicious and put it down again right next to Harry’s hand so that he could subtly drink it throughout the meal. The table broke into smaller conversations, Poppy focused on making sure that Oli was eating, since it was his latest thing throw all this food on the floor and then ask for desert. Gemma spent the time talking to Addie about London and at the end of the meal Addie stood up and cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention. 

  “Since it’s Christmas and we’re all gathered here as one big family for the first time in ages, I thought it’d be the perfect time to tell you, I have some news.” She smiled  at Poppy who watched her with excited pride  and glanced nervously at her parents. 

“Just before we left, I got my acceptance letter to The Norland College” she paused for a second before continuing “For Nannies” she paused again “In Bath” 

“No” Linda interjected “No you’re not going”

“I’m 19 Mum, I’ve wanted to do this forever and Poppy’s here” 

“No, I will not have another one of my children living away from home.You’re staying with me”

“Sorry Mum, but it’s not my fault Kai doesn’t visit you, or that Poppy moved over here the first chance she got. I’m doing this because I’ve always wanted to, and I’m not going to let you stop me, christ I don’t even want to go back with you tomorrow” 

“You’re leaving tomorrow?” Poppy asked, confused because last she heard they were leaving after new years 

“Yes. We changed our flights, I can’t stand being here any longer than I have to” 

Harry and Poppy glanced at each other, both a little relieved that they wouldn’t have to spend the next week with them. 

“I’m not going” Addie huffed 

“Oh and where do you think you’re going to stay? You’re not a nanny yet” 

John put his hand on Debbie’s shoulder “It’s ok love, she’s old enough to make these decisions herself”

“She can stay here” Harry said sternly, smiling at Addie “That room is yours Addie, for as long as you need it” 

Linda took her napkin off her lap and threw it onto her plate “Well I might as well leave now then, you clearly don’t need your mother anymore” she stormed out of the room and left them in silence except for the sound of John huffing and puffing about as he followed her out. 

“I should go fix that” Addie said eventually, standing up from her seat. 

“Don’t” Poppy shook her head, “It’s not worth it, not when she’s in a mood like this, there’s no talking to her” 

Addie didn’t say anything, but she sat down and Harry picked up Poppy’s glass of champagne and raised in the air, and the rest of the table followed. 

“Congratulations Addie” he said, “You’re going to make a wonderful Nanny” 

And just like that, the christmas cheer returned once again. Gemma was the first to pop her cracker but it wasn’t long before everyone was wearing a paper crown and laughing at the horrendous jokes that came with them. Even Oli laughed at the one about the penguin on the ice. He also thought it was hilarious when Anne bowed down to him in the crown and said “King Oli, I am at your service” 

  When the meal was over, they returned to the living room, to open presents and sing Christmas carols at the top of their lungs. Eventually Linda and John emerged from their bedroom, suitcases packed and ready to go. They didn’t say anything as they walked by, John simply waved and followed linda out like he always did. As they left Poppy stood from her place on the couch and chased after them. 

“Before you go” she said to them just before they walked out the front door. Linda didn’t bat an eyelid but John turned around and smiled at her sympathetically. “I have something to tell you”

Linda huffed and turned around, “Make it quick we’re going to be late for our flight” 

“I’m having a baby” Poppy said shortly “It’s early, I was going to wait to tell you but I thought you should know” 

“Well congratulations” Linda said sarcastically, “You’ll be able to hire your sister to look after it for you. Because your mother won’t be” With that she turned around and walked out of the house, followed closely by John who turned around and mouthed a “congratulations” just before he closed the door behind him.

“Thanks for ruining Christmas” Poppy yelled as the door slammed behind them. She didn’t return to the living room where the festivities continued, for the first time in five years she’d had everyone she loved on one continent for christmas and it was her own mother that had ruined that for her. The tears started to fall slowly but before she knew it, she was sitting on the ground sobbing, like she’d just lost someone close to her. And in a way she had, her mother had effectively just walked out of her and her sisters lives without even a second thought. She was grieving the loss of a parent while she was still alive. 

  ***

January 15th, 2020 - 4 Weeks 

  With Christmas and New Years over everyone had returned to their normal lives,  the dullness that january usually brought with it had set in. Addie found herself a little lost, the idea of moving halfway across the world was far more exciting than the reality. With every one back at work and Oli back at daycare, she spent most of her days alone in Harry’s house, missing the summer she left behind at home. And on top of everything else, she barely had time to talk to her friends back home. It was an 11 hour time difference, so when Addie was awake they were asleep and vice versa. She hadn’t even told her best friend that she was staying in London for the foreseeable future. 

“Addie, we’re going shopping” Poppy called as she walked in the front door after a short day at work. 

“Don’t you have to be at work?”Addie called back, it was barely midday and she’d only just gotten out of bed she wasn’t expecting anyone home for at least another hour or two. 

“No, I’ve taken the afternoon off , Ella’s there to answer the phones and I’ve  done everything else that needed to be done today” Poppy walked into the living room where Addie was sitting 

  “OK” Addie nodded “and what or who do we need to go shopping for?”

“You.” Poppy said, matter-of- factly “All your stuff is in Australia and I don’t know about you, but I don’t really feel like asking mum to send it over…”

  Addie’s stomach dropped at the thought of spending even a cent of the money she had left on clothes that she didn’t really need, since she’d just up and left her job “But I don’t have any money”

  Poppy shrugged “It’s on us. And by us I mean Harry”  she pulled his spare card out of her purse and held it up to Addie.

  “Poppy, I can’t let you guys do that” she sighed and sat back down on the couch, “I’ll get a job and get my own stuff” 

“Addie” Poppy sighed, “we’re not exactly struggling, I work full time in a very well paying job and Harry is Harry Styles, let us do this for you and if really want to get a job so you can stand on your own feet, then I’ll help you”

  Addie thought on that for a second. She did need a few more things, in her wardrobe, another pair of jeans couldn’t hurt so that she could wash the pair that she’d been wearing almost everyday since they got here. “Are you sure? I’ll pay you back when I’m working”

“No need for that” Poppy nodded “Now what do you need?” 

“Probably a few jumpers that aren’t christmas themed and maybe some jeans so I can wash these” Addie laughed 

“That’s a good place to start” Poppy giggled “Shall we?” 

Addie nodded and followed Poppy out the door “What about Oli?”  she asked after just realising that Poppy didn’t have her son with her. 

“Harry will pick him up when he finishes rehearsals” 

“God I can’t wait until I’m settled and have a husband as good as him” Addie sighed, opening the car door and jumping in

“Whatever happened to Matt? He was your best friend right?” 

“Yeah” her voice went quiet “He got a girlfriend though and stopped talking to me because  she thought we were too close” 

“Oh” Poppy sighed sympathetically “I’m sorry sweetie” 

“Harry had girlfriends when you guys were friends right?” 

“He did” Poppy kept her eyes focused on the road “and I had boyfriends” 

“Did he ever do that to you?” 

“No” Poppy shook her head “Kendall tried, but then he dumped her and married me” 

***

February 18th 2014 

   After a week in her new flat Poppy felt more at home in London than ever, she had her own space and her own time to do what she needed to do for Uni and life in general and in a weird way, she felt even closer to Harry since moving out. They talked more now, and if Harry wasn’t over at the flat, they were texting about anything and everything. Which  is exactly what was happening right now as poppy got herself ready to go to dinner to finally celebrate their birthdays. 

  What’s the attire for this occasion H? I’m not used to dressing for my birthday in Winter 

  Did you go to Pubs back home? 

  On the odd occasion, sure 

  Well wear what you would wear to the pub in winter 

But with a few extra layers because you don’t know what cold is over there 

  Gotcha 

What’s Kendall wearing?

  She’s not coming anymore, there’s a fashion show she’d rather go to 

  Yeah, that sounds more important 

  She was with me for my real birthday 

  I guess 

  Do you want me to pick you up? 

  I think I’ll walk, I’m still trying to get to know the area  

  It’s just about snowing out there, you sure?

  I’ve  got gloves and a coat, might even break out that beanie you got me, but it might ruin my hair 

  Your hair looks  great all the time, plus Lou will be there, she’ll fix it 

  I’m leaving now, I’ll buy the first round xx 

  The Spaniards Inn was closer to Harry’s than it was to Poppy’s but with her coat and gloves on she quickly made her way there, only taking the wrong turn once. The bitter wind struck her face and in the dark she felt like she was the runaway bride from a victorian romance novel, seeking shelter at the local Inn. 

“Hi” she said to the bartender “Could I get five pints and a tequila on the rocks please” 

“Coming right up” he poured the drinks and set them out on a tray that Poppy could carry to a free table, of which there were none . “Do you have a booking love?” 

“Uhh yeah” Poppy nodded “Probably under the name Greenberg” That was the name that Harry used when he didn’t want to be found out and he never wanted to be found out. 

He looked through the diary that sat next to the till and frowned when he couldn’t find the name, “would it be under another name?” 

“Maybe Thomas” 

“Nope” the bartender shook his head 

“Twist?” 

“Bingo” he laughed “we’ve got you on table 6 over in the corner, I’ll carry these over for you” 

“Thank you” Poppy smiled and followed him to the table. It really was in the corner, and Poppy wondered if Harry had asked for that. This wasn’t exactly a quiet place, it was full and many of the people here were young, people that would know who he is. Poppy sat down and took a sip of her beer, taking in the space and a wave of sadness washed over her. It didn’t feel like her birthday, for starters it was cold and nothing about February in Australia was cold. But before she had too much time to dwell on her sadness, the rest of the party arrived, with smiles spread across their faces. 

“Jesus Pop” Gemma said looking at the drink “Hope you plan on sharing those” 

Poppy laughed shyly “They’re for everyone, and the tequila is for mr fussy over there” 

“Mr Fussy is very thankful for his tequila” Harry smiled and kissed Poppy on the forehead “Happy Late Birthday Pop” 

“You too H” 

“It’s only two weeks off” Anne said 

“Because someone” Poppy emphasised, looking towards Harry “had to go to LA” 

“With his girlfriend” Gemma added in a childish tone 

“Alright alright, none o’ that” Harry raised his hands in surrender. The sadness that had visited Poppy only moments ago had suddenly disappeared when she realised that it didn't have to feel like her birthday, being an adult meant that most years it probably wouldn’t feel like it, but she was surrounded by people she loved, who loved her back, and that was enough.

  They scanned the menus and ordered their meals in between fits of laughter at one another. Lux and Harry stole the show after she insisted that she sat on his lap so that she could tell him all about her new doll.  Their meals came and they were as delicious as Poppy had hoped and at the end of it all, Anne stood up and left the table, bringing a cake back with her. But Harry’s phone rang before the cake even made it onto the table, it was Kendall and he picked up immediately. 

“What’s up?” he said softly into the phone “I can’t right now, I’m at dinner … my mum and Sister and Poppy ...no she’s not… we’re just friends...it’s her birthday too… I have to go, I’ll talk to you later” 

“Are you done?” Gemma said sternly with raised eyebrows 

“Sorry,” Harry cleared his throat “Cake!” 

Anne shook her head at Harry and Poppy began to wonder if her and Gemma knew something she didn’t. 

“Right you two” Anne pointed towards the two of them and moved the cake over so that it sat between them “Smile and then we’ll sing.” 

Poppy leant over and kissed Harry on the cheek while he smiled at the camera. Poppy’s hand cupped his face and they burst into fits of laughter that almost blew the candles out. 

“Happy Birthday to you…” Gemma began to sing to avoid a commotion 

“Happy Birthday to you” everyone else joined in 

“Happy Birthday dear Harry and Poppy

Happy Birthday to you” 

“Make a wish Pop” Harry whispered before they blew the candles out together. 

Harry cut the cake, and at the request of Lux, he and Poppy jokingly shared a kiss on the lips. But the timing couldn’t have been worse, because in the same second that their lips met, Kendall stumbled into the pub, locking her eyes onto their table immediately. Harry hadn’t seen her walk in, but he certainly heard her once she started shouting. 

“Get off him!” 

Poppy jumped, not expecting such a scene “It’s all in good fun” she said, trying to calm her down “the knife came out dirty so he had to kiss the closest girl, that’s the rules, right Lux?” 

“Yep” Lux said shyly as she hid her head in Harry’s shoulder. 

“That sounds like an excuse, you’re in love with him and it’s so obvious” 

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table, like everyone drew in a breath at the same time and forgot to let it go. 

“I think you should go now Kendall” Harry said harshly, like he wasn’t taking no for an answer. 

Kendall pursed her lips, and turned around on her back foot, then she walked away. 

The silence stuck, for a moment, until Poppy broke it “I’m not in love with you H” 

He nodded and handed her a slice of the cake. “Happy Birthday Poppy”

***

“Matt didn’t even put up a fight” Addie said, trying to hide the tears that were now building up in her eyes. It wasn’t until now that she’d realised just how much she missed him and home, not that they were synonymous anymore. 

“He’s not worth it then Ad” Poppy put her hand on Addie’s thigh “You deserve someone that’s going to drop everything when you fall pregnant with another man’s child and make that child his own” 

“Yeah I don’t plan on getting knocked up to a stranger” Addie laughed 

“Neither did I” Poppy pulled the car into its usual parking space at the radio one building because it was easier to park there than anywhere else in London. 

  London was bustling with people leading their busy lives and Addie and Poppy weaved their way in and out of the sea of people headed in the opposite direction to them. 

“Where do you want to go Addie?” Poppy asked when they finally got to walk next to each other 

“Is there a Primark around? I’ve always wanted to go there” She asked 

“Really?” Poppy laughed 

“I’ve heard good things!” Addie said 

“Primark is like if Kmart and Cotton On had a baby” Poppy said a tone of distaste evident in her voice 

“And they’re my two favourite shops back home” Addie laughed 

“Alright let’s go then” Poppy shrugged 

Primark was about a block away from where they were and Poppy lead the way, occasionally stopping and asking if Addie wanted to go into other stores. Addie knew that Primark was cheap, she knew that she would eventually be able to pay Poppy and Harry back when she got a job. 

“You get whatever you want Ad, I’m going to go look at the kids stuff for Oli, he could use some new daycare clothes” Poppy said as they walked into the store 

Addie nodded, immersed in her own world,  and they parted ways. The kids stuff was up stairs and as Poppy stepped off the escalator the first thing she saw was the new born clothes and she couldn’t help but have a look at them. They were so tiny, it was hard to believe that anyone could be small enough to fit into them. She’d forgotten what it was like to hold a human that small, how fragile they feel and god she missed the smell, next to Harry’s cologne, the smell of a baby was her favourite smell in the world. She found herself staring at a pink baby grow with frills on the shoulders and even though she knew it was silly to hope for a daughter with her condition all she could think about for the last few days was having a little girl. 

“I don’t think that will fit Oli” Addie said, standing over Poppy’s shoulder bringing her back down to earth 

“But look how cute it is!” Poppy smiled, trying to play it cool.  

“Someone’s broody” Addie rolled her eyes 

Poppy took a deep breath, too excited to hold it in any longer. “Someone’s pregnant” she smiled, feeling like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She’d always hated keeping secrets.

“Holy shit” Addie breathed “Congratulations Pop” she wrapped her arms around Poppy in a big hug that felt like it lasted a lifetime. 

“It’s early, like really early, I probably shouldn’t be telling you yet but I’m so excited” 

“Does Harry know?” Addie let go of the hug

“He does, he’s more excited than I am” 

“Were you trying? Or was it an accident again?” 

Poppy let out a breathy laugh “No, this one was planned but we didn’t think it would happen this quick. We only started trying just before christmas”  

“So is the timing going to work out with Harry about to start touring?” Addie asked, concern evident in her voice 

“I don’t know, but it's way too late to cancel. He couldn’t do that to his fans ” 

“Well you’ve always got a helping hand here Pop” 

Poppy gigged “Our own personal Nanny.”

[angst-fairygodmother]

How about: “I wasn’t lying when I told you I loved you.” + “Who cares what they think?” for Valdo x reader? :3

A/N: A slight tweak of the exact wording of the prompt, but I think you’ll forgive me :) Word Count: 1772 Content Warning: a PG-13 level of swearing (exactly one), self-pity/self-depreciation

“Valdo Marx!” the high, somewhat nasally voice rang out over the banquet hall as some countess you couldn’t name approached. “It’s been so long since you’ve graced us with your presence. There were even rumors that you had died!” Her big, bright blue eyes batted coquettishly at him.

“Well,” he said with a smirk and a chuckle. “How dramatic. As you can see, I am quite alive and well. I simply took some time away from court to chase a particularly…ornery muse and create new material.”

You shot him a playful glare and caught his smirk at the descriptor.

“Will we hear some of it tonight?” she clasped his hand in both of hers and drew it to her chest entreatingly. “It would be oh so grand for you to perform.”

You rolled your eyes from beside him, familiar and bored of this courtly song and dance.

“I’m sure something can be arranged, my lady,” he acquiesced. “Although, I am here as a guest tonight, so I may have to talk it over with my dear Y/N.”

“Oh!” the lady gasped, as if only just noticing you standing there. “Y/N? I’m unfamiliar with the name. Where is your family from?” the cock of her head reminded you of the little spaniels many nobles had recently decided it was fashionable to carry around.

“Nowhere,” you said tersely before smiling coldly. “I got here on my own merit. You’d be surprised the doors that open when you save a queen’s life.”

Valdo beamed proudly by your shoulder as the lady stammered and floundered for how to respond. It was true that you had been invited to court for as long as you wished to stay, and promised any number of lavish rewards after your quick thinking had halted an assassination attempt in the market earlier that day. And most of the court had been smart enough to catch the gossip quickly and pay you due respect.

“Yes, it was a quite the sight to witness,” he purred. “Had I more time before tonight, I would surely have crafted my greatest ballad yet about their daring rescue. And done without ever so much as a hair out of place. Such a clever thing, my Y/N. Nearly as clever as beautiful. I am so lucky to love them, and hardly deserving of it.”

You preened under his praise and the lady murmured some excuse to duck away, flushed with embarrassment.

“There was no need to tease her like that,” you scolded playfully as soon as she was out of earshot.

“Who was teasing, love? I meant every word of it. And she was the one who didn’t know who you were.”

“None of them actually know. Or care. I am a merely the newest, shiny little toy. Like the lapdogs. By next week, I’ll be back in the kennels, muzzled and forgotten in favor of something else when the novelty wears off.”

‘It’ll wear off for him to,’ a treacherous voice whispered in the back of your mind. ‘How long do you really think you can carry on this charade before Valdo Marx finds something prettier and more agreeable?’

“Muzzled? Now there’s a thought…” his eyebrows wagged salaciously and you slapped his chest just hard enough to make him gasp out a breath.

“Don’t you start, Valdo Marx,” you threatened, a finger pointed into his face.

“Oh, pearl of my heart, but it is so much fun to tease you.”

“I want to get through tonight with a modicum of dignity. And I’m frankly surprised that you don’t.”

“Dignity is all in the presentation, darling.”

“Speaking of,” you sighed and dropped your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “That very large and imposing looking man in armor is staring at us pointedly. I think it’s time to go meet the royals.”

~

Your face burned with humiliation. The queen had been kind enough as you stumbled through appropriate courtly greetings, the motions and words feeling stiff and unfamiliar, disjointed, like a puppet with tangled strings. And the king had, perhaps even more blessedly, been aloof. But the crown prince – a skinny, pimply, young monster not yet through puberty – had brayed like a donkey and called the attention of a half-dozen courtiers to your every error, and they all tittered behind handkerchiefs and fans and gloved fingers. You had stared down at your own, exposed in all their calloused, bitten-nailed glory. For some reason, that small difference had been enough to spur tears in your eyes and, mumbling an apology and a thanks for their graciousness, you had fled.

Valdo found you, leaning with a white knuckled grip, on one of the balconies far from the throne room.

“If you’re planning to vault yourself over the edge and escape into the lawns as your pose suggests,” he called softly as he approached. “I would point out that not only are we on the second story, but there are rose bushes right below us and I would hate to see the most wonderful face on the continent so torn up.”

His arm slid around your waist, pulling you close so that he could press a kiss to your temple just in time to hear you mutter “idiot, absolute idiot.”

“The prince? Absolutely,” he answered, trying to pretend you were doing anything other than disparaging yourself. “But he’s young, there’s still a chance he’ll grow out of it before he takes the throne. Or someone will beat it out of him.”

“No,” you scoffed. “Me. I was a fool to think I could even remotely fit in here, even with your tutelage this afternoon.”

“In your defense, I wasn’t the best instructor, but I was…distracted.” He pressed another kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “Horribly distracted.”

“I’m serious Valdo,” you tried to pull away from him, but he kept his hold firm. “I’m a joke. They’re all in there laughing at this idiotic country bumpkin playing at courtier. I wanted to belong, for you, so that you weren’t so embarrassed to bring me to functions and could go back to performing in palaces and grand estates where you belong but I just can’t. I was stupid to think I could.”

“Stop.” He moved his hands to rest firmly on your shoulders. “Y/N, listen to me.”

He ducked his head to force you to look in his eyes, and though you tried not to, you gravitated naturally to meet his emerald gaze, a natural sense of calm flooding over you at the tenderness you found there. “Are you listening, dearest?”

You nodded meekly.

“Good. Because what I’m about to say is very profound and important. Ready?”

You nodded again, fighting a smile at his dramatics.

“Fuck ‘em.” He whispered, leaning close so that the words, and his facial hair, brushed against your ear.

“What?” you laughed incredulously at hearing him swear, especially in such a serious and impassioned tone.

“Is that not how you would put it?”

“I see. I’ve been a terrible influence on you, and ruined your genteel demeanor.” You tried to keep the joke light, but couldn’t help the darkness that crept over your face at the thought of it being just another thing you couldn’t do right for him.

“I’m serious, Y/N. Who cares what they think?”

You paused, biting your lip and looking down at the sliver of ground between you. “Well I mean…I thought…you did? You’re Valdo Marx. You should be here, courting rich patrons and lovers and charming the all sorts of people. Not burdened by me.”

He sighed, leaning one hip against the railing and crooking a finger under your chin to pull your face back up toward his.

“I would be lying if I said I never considered my reputation. But there are things much more valuable to me than it, and I can’t be bothered anymore with anyone who thinks less than the absolute highest of you.”

You felt the tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes and reached up anxiously to brush them away before they could fall.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you, Y/N. I truly do. With all my heart. And I will give all of this up a thousand times over to live in a hovel if that’s what it takes to have you in my life.”

“A hovel? Really?”

“Yes. I mean I would much prefer not a hovel. A modest townhouse at the least. In a city, a capital or near one of the universities, I’ll still need to ply my craft somewhere. And I’d be terribly frightened that you’d get bored or sick of me and use your innumerable talents to make my body disappear if we were out in the middle of nowhere. But if isolation is what you truly wanted, I would find a way to make it work.” His eyes shone in the distant candlelight as he carried on.

“Take it easy, Valdo,” you laughed. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say all that talk sounded very,” you gestured vaguely as you sought the right word. “Future-y. Like you’re expecting us to settle down soon.”

“Well…” he carded a nervous hand through his curls and your fingers itched  beyond reason to replace it with your own.

“What? Why would we do that? I thought we both loved this wandering life…Do you know something I don’t?”

“It’s…well…a bit more hopeful than that…” you had never seen him so worked up, and his nervous energy was beginning to bleed into your own.

“Out with it.” You ordered, hoping some firmness would get him to pull himself together.

He sighed. “I hadn’t planned to do this tonight, or so shortly after you had been insulted and upset, which it is only by virtue of him being a future king and therefore an important ally to cultivate that I did not challenge him to a duel for that you know…”

You raised an eyebrow. “Right, and him being only about twelve-years-old had nothing to do with it?”

He shrugged, as if to suggest that he would in fact have challenged a child to a fight in your name.

“Y/N. Sun and stars in my sky. Deity made flesh and stooped low to love me. Grandest muse, all I could ever ask for and more. I have no right. I am a cad and a wastrel and do not deserve you. But I bare my heart before you, and ask you to take it, let it be yours forever, let me be yours,” he slowly sank down in front of you. “As your husband?”

[kazhewbrekker]

vilify me - chapter 1

Vilify Me

Shatter Me AU where Ella and Emmaline were raised as children of the Supreme Commander of Oceania, and everything that happened after.

Fandom: Shatter Me Series - Tahereh Mafi

Relationships: Juliette Ferrars/Aaron Warner

Additional Tags: Ella Sommers!AU, Implied Torture, Child Abuse, basically ella and emmaline were raised by their biological parents,Childhood Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Restore Me spoilers, Defy Me spoilers, i might add more tags later

( AO3 Link) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4)

vilify v.

1. to lower in estimation or importance

All the children of the Supremes spent time away from home, visiting each other on the regular, it was a much needed break for their parents and good for networking. And when you were young and sick of being treated like test monkeys, a little bit of freedom never hurt.

Emmaline was one of the older kids, alongside Haider and Warner. So she grew out of the visiting trips earlier then I did. Instead she became obsessed with getting ahead and learning everything she could about everything. She didn’t have time for her little sister or taking a small flight to another continent every weekend. I understood, maybe not then, but eventually.

Sometimes I still think about how different she would have been had she opened up more, if not to me then to the rest of us. But I suppose we really were outliers, when it all came down to it. Emmaline was untouchable, in a metaphorical way, she was not only going to inherit our mother’s title as Supreme Commander of Oceania, but she was also the strongest Unnatural on the planet. The scientists always got it wrong, they downplayed her power so frequently in order to raise mine up, but I wasn’t as strong as her. It seemed like I was the only one who realized that.

I didn’t want to see what would happen if someone stood against Emmaline. Not even me.

The warmth of morning became overbearing the later after dawn I waited to get up. My conditioned body still continued to rouse me at five o’clock sharp, before even the sun had decided to get up. But I was on vacation, or the closest thing to vacation I could get, so there was no way I was going to leave this bed until at the very least eight in the morning.

“Ella, love.”

His voice was quiet, so quiet I could have ignored it, but he placed a hand on my shoulder to shake me awake. His palm was frigid. I jumped a foot into the air and rolled across the bed, hugging the sheets to my chest.

Aaron Warner stood before me on the other side of the bed wearing his usual ensemble of immaculate clothing. His surprise at my reaction quickly turned to amusement, he looked as if it physically pained him to restrain his laughter at my antics. I gave him a sidelong glare before laying myself down once again, but on his pillow.

“Are you going to get up before noon?”

“Excuse you,” I said. “Some people like to sleep in.”

I listened intently as he moved around the room. The fabric under my chin was cold and smelled faintly of soap and little much else. He probably hadn’t slept for very long at all, and I could vaguely remembered he’d come to bed late too.

“Did you even go to sleep last night?” I turned my head up, but found he wasn’t where he’d been before. I sat up on the bed and found him bringing in a tray covered in metal containers that I knew to be military issued meals. “Breakfast in bed? Don’t spoil me or I’ll never leave.”

Warner place the tray on my lap, the quirk to his lip hadn’t disappeared just yet. I hesitantly opened the first dish to find fruits chopped into squares, the others had what looked to be eggs and ham and some kind of baked bread. I picked up the cup of coffee placed off to the side and held it up to my lips, watching Warner as he watched me from his seat on the edge of the bed.

He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck, “I will admit I didn’t sleep as long as I could have, but I am still expected to work while you’re here.”

“Responsibilities, I’m familiar.”

“Yes, precisely,” Warner laughed. “As for breakfast; no crumbs in my bed.”

He watched and waited as I partook in the food laid before me. I wasn���t a huge fan of eating, food equaled energy and energy gave me the ability to use my body properly and that was all there was to it. Maybe that was something the Reestablishment had trained into us, to only see things in terms of power. If you didn’t get a benefit from something then it had no use, and therefore it could be thrown away as simple as that. Food, people, it was all the same in the Reestablishment’s eyes.

“What’s the agenda for today?” I asked between mouthfuls of bread.

“I have another meeting in an hour, and I have to visit the compounds around 1400 hours.” He eyed the bread with disdain, “The in between time I am all yours.”

“How generous.”

“Do you plan to be sarcastic for the rest of the morning?”

I sigh reproachfully. In truth I wasn’t surprised in the slightest that he was busy. Warner’s father like to pile up work in Sector 45 more than any of the others, just to get a rise out of his son, and especially when he knew I was visiting. I could beat the old man black and blue for just that alone.

I wasn’t surprised, but I was disappointed. There honestly wasn’t much to do on base without Warner around. I did come to North America purely to see him, more often than not.

I could easily do my own work from the comfort of my own home.

“Are you alright?” He said, with a hint of worry, “What’s wrong, love?”

“Nothing,”

He raised an eyebrow.

“The only reason I don’t want to tell you is because it’s obsolete. You’ll feel guilty and that will make me feel even worse.” I said, “I miss you and I want to spend as much time with you as I can. But I hardly know what to do with myself here when you’re gone.”

Warner winced, confirmed my fear that he’d take the burden of my discomfort onto himself. “You could join me during work―?”

“And distract you the entire time.”

“There isn’t an easy solution.”

I picked the tray up out of my lap and wiggle my legs out of the blanket. The carpet was cool under my bare feet as I walked over to the table and set the empty tray atop it. It’s only when I’d crossed halfway over the room that I realized how chilly it was in this room without trousers. I pulled on the bottom threads of my shirt as I headed back to the bed, Warner’s eyes never left me as he sat quietly, waiting. And I only had to meet his gaze once before he was fixating on the far wall.

Ever in full control of temptation.

“I know there isn’t, that’s precisely why I didn’t want to mention it.” I stood in front of him so our knees touched, his expensive black polyester against my skin. “Beside, I come here to escape from all the military talk, your board meetings would give me hives.”

He laughs, but it’s restrained. His hands hesitantly test the waters and reach out to me. Which I oblige by lacing our fingers together and sitting myself on his lap with my legs pinned on either side of him. It only takes a moment of surprise before his dimples are on full display and he uses his grip on my arm to drag me in closer, while the other unlatches itself to cradle around my waist and keep me secure in place.

“So you’ll quietly wait for me to return and absolutely not cause trouble in which I will have to fix,” Warner said, “right?”

I winked, kissed his cheek, and replied. “Of course.”

“When was the last time you heard from Warner?”

Emmaline never did beat around the bush, she’d waltzed in my bedroom and slammed the door closed behind her. I placed the book I had been annotating down and tried my hardest to project my annoyance into the air between us.

“Awhile ago,” I hissed. “Why?”

She shrugged. I watched as she wandered around my bedroom, the walls painted a pale pink, the mature version of what had originally been the color scheme for our shared bedroom when we were children. In Emmaline’s own bedroom, I’d find almost an identical spread of pastel purple. Mum had always loved coordination.

“Emma, seriously, if you’re just here to bother me get out.”

Her fingers glided along my bookshelves. Objects that Dad had told me to throw out months ago, the Reestablishment saw no need for literature of any kind. I wondered if Emmaline shared his sentiments, she’d always been so complacent.

Finally, my sister turned to look at me point-blank. “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“Then get to the point.”

“Nazeera told me today that Warner and Lena are together.”

I stood up.

“Like, he’s staying in Europe?”

I could briefly register my heart picking up speed inside my chest. My brain racing to keep up, sorting through every conversation we’d ever had on the topic of Lena. Warner didn’t share many sentiments about being around the other Supreme kids. Had he ever even brought Lena up before?

Emmaline sighed. “Els, you know what I mean.”

“He would have told me.”

“You said it yourself,” she turned back towards the door. “You haven’t heard from him in awhile, maybe things change.”

I went back to bed before I caused havoc. Warner could do with a rest from any of my particular antics, despite what he might believe, I didn’t enjoy making his life harder. I just got bored. In any case, he was lucky his bed was so comfortable.

When I finally rolled out of the red sheets and dressed properly it was already midday. The shower was hot and the water was sharper then back home, but the smell of the soap and the fabric of the towels was comforting. Sometimes it scared me how at home I felt in North America, how much time I’d spent on the other side of the world. Something my sister never understood.

In the corner of Warner’s closet there was a place for my clothes, personally picked out by him, and all perfected to my own tastes. I didn’t like Anderson’s dresses, or the shorts and sleeveless shirts my parents insisted I wore. The Reestablishment liked to remind people I was a weapon. Remind them what one single brush against my shoulder would do.

When I was younger the power felt nice, but it always turned my stomach to see how maids and nannies would watch me with disdain, even fear. Emmaline got similar looks, but not to the same caliber. I’d grown to hate the sight of my own skin. Warner had sat through enough of my tears to know that giving me pretty dresses that exposed my legs or frilly shirts that showed my arms and stomach was the worst possible gift he could give me.

He gave me jeans, leggings, sweaters that came down to my thighs. I had turtlenecks and boots without heels, shirts with sleeves that went past my wrist. They were comfortable and functional, and of course fashionable. He’d given me so many lectures on color theory that at this point I could retell it to myself from memory.

That was the other feeling that came with vacations at Sector 45. For once, in only one place in time, I could completely be myself. And I could go wherever I pleased.

As in any military base, the decor was minimal and the walls were stark white. The building was as boring as it was tall. I wouldn’t get lost though, most of these bases were carbon copies of each other and I’d grown up in these skyscrapers. And I was going to observe the training rooms, not Warner’s private ones that I refused to visit on unpaid time off, but the soldier’s training rooms. They were the same in context, maybe a little less high-grade and much larger. Any soldier who was off duty went there to work on what they lacked.

I passed the hallway guards who shot me strange looks. I couldn’t be sure if it was because they recognize me or because they couldn’t believe a five foot three, little girl was walking around base. Anderson didn’t seem to like employing women, did he?

Delalieu noticed me turning the corner and fluttered towards me, “Miss Sommer, is there anything I could do to be of assistance?” He looked wary and anxious, but then again when didn’t he.

“I’m just fine,” I said. “Shouldn’t you be at the meeting with Warner?”

He shook his head, “It’s not that type of meeting.”

Strange.

I moved towards the training room doors, they weren’t the doors that the soldiers came in through as those were connected to the barracks and the dining hall. They were the doors that Warner would enter through when he wanted to observe his soldiers, maybe punish them when they were unassuming.

Delalieu didn’t so much as stop me, but move towards the door as I attempted to open it. My hands were still bare and I could almost feel the shudder that went through the old man as he saw them revealed against the metal of the handles. The lieutenant's movement caught the eye of the guards and they moved in closer.

“There is no reason to trouble yourself with the soldiers, Miss Sommers.”

I quirked an eyebrow, “Are you hiding something from me?”

“No!” He urgently replied, “Of course not.”

One of the soldiers was leaning in towards the conversation, attempting to be inconspicuous and failing miserably. Who was training these imbeciles? The other actually put a hand on my shoulder and I felt a rush of nausea.

“What seems to be the problem here?” His voice was deep and booming. The soldier was trying to be intimidating, but I could only be concerned with how much I wish I’d worn short sleeves despite the discomfort. “Well―?”

I grabbed his hand.

The soldier’s knees buckled to the ground as I felt the familiar surge of warmth, of strength. I whipped around and kicked him dead-center in the chest sending him rocketing towards the far wall. A loud sound cut off. He’d been screaming, my ears had tuned it out.

I rubbed my hand against my jeans. And looked back at Delalieu.

The guard who had been observing was now straight backed and looking forward like he should have been when I arrived. I scoffed. Delalieu stood out of my way as I opened the metal doors into the training room. They would have all heard the scream. Good, at least then I wouldn’t have to explain myself to anyone again.

This side of the compound wasn’t known for being very hospitable. I almost shivered at the feeling that emitted from the grey walls. Dad was leading, five feet in front of me with a higher-up military persona on one side and what looked like a doctor on the other. They expected me to follow as we went down the winding hallways towards the basement level. I was very familiar with the basement level.

“Alright sweetie,” Dad said.

He opened a chamber door, it creaked under the pressure. I resisted making any sign of displeasure and merely nodded. Walking in and listening as the door closed behind me the second my feet passed the threshold. I was not afraid. I would not tremble.

Supreme Commander Anderson was in charge of any and all missions and assignments I was given. In simple terms, he was my boss. And I hated it. He’d given me the same mission since I’d started training under his care at the ripe age of eight years old; obtain information in relation to the rebel groups opposing the Reestablishment’s control.

The Executioner was in. Ella Sommers was nowhere to be found.

Before me, tied to a chair in the middle of the room, was a man not much older than me. He had the makings of a beard on his face, though he looked ragged. As if he had been struggling to no avail for hours. Maybe days. I stepped out of the shadows of the corners of the room, so he could see me in full view. I caught his attention immediately.

What a vision I must have been. A fourteen year old girl in a dress as green as fresh grass, little white sandals, and her hair done into braids on either side of her head. My appearance made me seem as least three years younger than I was. But if I were to stare myself down in a mirror, I would see the storms behind my eyes. I was not a child.

“Who are you?” The man asked, his voice distinctly accented.

I cocked my head to the side. “You don’t know me?”

He narrowed his eyes. Reassessed myself as I stood before him, I made no threatening movements, but I could see the pulse in his neck jump. He was on edge and didn’t even understand why.

“Why would I know a little girl?” He gritted his teeth, “What are you doing here, huh?”

I’d forced Warner to sit down and watch a nature documentary with me once. He disliked movies, but he preferred anything that had any educational value to the frequent romantic comedies I laid before him. It had been about predators and prey. How the prey could sometimes sense that they were being hunted simply on a whim, but that often it was still not quick enough of a warning to spare them from the predator. It was a biological reaction that ever creature possessed when confronted with a bringer of death.

“I was under the impression that your organization was looking for me.”

The man bit down on his lip. His fear was rising, palpable, as I inched closer.

“But that’s fine if you don’t know who I am.” I raised a hand, “Allow me to introduce myself.”

I found my way to the dining room easily. Warner sat on the far end of the table with a stack of papers in front of him, and two sets of cutlery placed for two people on the table. I found my seat next to him and smiled. He looked up only after a minute of ignoring me.

He looked unimpressed.

“How was your day, my dear?”

“Excellent,” I unfolded my napkin, “and yours?”

Warner blinked and set his papers aside, “Eventful.”

“Do tell,”

“I got a report from my Lieutenant that a guest of mine had debilitated and almost killed one of my men in the middle of a very important meeting with the surrounding sectors.”

I tried my best to look convincingly troubled.

“Ella,”

I wasn’t a very good actress.

“In my defense,” I said, “he touched me first which could very well be seen as an attack.”

There was a bottle of red wine on the table that I picked up and inspected heavily, the label was all but scratched free of any information besides where it came from: Sonoma, CA. When I looked up, Warner was staring straight ahead with a confounding expression.

“What are you doing?” I asked, “Stop thinking, Aaron. Don’t you dare--”

“I’ve come up with a solution.”

My forehead slammed into the porcelain plate. I groaned, and it wasn’t from the newly formed bruise. If only I could find comfort in the dishware. Warner laughed.

“You’re being over dramatic.”

I pushed myself up, squared my shoulders, and took a sip from the wine bottle itself. Warner was leaned back in his chair, watching me with faint amusement, like we we’re playing a game. The bell dinged, signaling that dinner would now be brought in for us. I met his eyes.

“I learned from the best.”

Anderson's eyes turned up at me like a glare, "Report on the status of rebel interrogation."

"Yes, sir." I met him with a practiced ease. Standing from my chair with a ramrod-straight back and an expressionless face, "The Reestablishment has acquired thirteen rebels as of this month. I have interrogated," tortured, "five of the hostiles."

"How many of those were killed by your hand?" The Commander of Europe asks, focused on the papers in front of her and with a voice of disinterest.

"All five," I responded immediately, "sir."

There is a quiet that no one interrupts, not because of the deaths but because of the abject disappointment. They've not heard any of the information I gathered, though they might have read it in the packets of text they seem to be much more interested in flipping through before them.

"Report." Warner's father repeats with a sternness that makes me want to rip his spine out through his throat. There's a beat, a pause, before I begin.

"Number of soldiers is inconclusive, it is estimated no more than a thousand within the North American capital. I was able to extract two safe houses which have since then been removed. The central base of operations, known as Alpha Point, I have only been able to obtain generalizations when it comes to location and management."

"And why is that?" Its Nazeera's father, the Supreme of Asia, this time. "What reason do you have for not finding this rebel stronghold."

My jaw doesn't twitch like I feel it does. There will be no comfort in this room, the Commanders will tear into my failures with promises of punishment if I do not succeed in the future.

"Rumors, sir."

"Rumors?" Anderson's blue eyes have never left my face. I have never flinched in his presence. "What rumors?"

I still, turn my chin a little higher, "The Unnaturals know of me by name."

There's a commotion. It starts with my parents, I'm unsure if they are outraged by the breach in security or the safety of their own child. I don't turn to see the anger that would be clear upon my sister's face. But unfortunately, I don't have to search far for him.

Over his father's shoulder, Warner's eyes burn with a brand of guilt I'm far too use to. For a moment I feel as though he could swallow me whole with that look. The concern, so tangible, for the first time this meeting my heart is in my throat.

He makes me worried about my own safety. Only because I couldn't bear to leave him alone here. Even if we aren't speaking currently.

"Enough," The Commander of Africa slams his stack of papers on the desk. I don't turn to look at him. "Finish the report, Miss Sommers."

They don't usually call me Miss Sommers. That is a name reserved for my sister. My big sister, queen of this world and the next. Most powerful Unnatural, next Supreme Commander of Oceania.

"Yes, sir." I bathe in the silence, "Once the soldiers had realized, individually, of my identity their demeanors had changed."

Anderson was back to staring me down, "How?"

"Some tried to win my sympathy, those were the ones that relinquished the most information. The others attempted to either provoke me or stay silent. It seemed, although there was no chance of escape, they had wanted to observe my ability."

"That's to be expected." I recognized my own mother's voice, "They see her as one of their own, or a betrayer of their own. That will be a good angle to use."

It didn't matter if I agreed. "In the end they were disposed of."

Anderson laced his fingers together and settled his chin atop them, there seemed to be a flicker of amusement in that gaze. It made my stomach revolt. The way he looked at me like a spectacle, a circus animal for them to cage and abuse when they willed it.

"Were they impressed?"

"Excuse me?" My mask faltered for only a second.

"Were the rebels, the Unnaturals, were they impressed by your ability when you killed them?" Anderson’s grin was small and quiet. His words rang and bounced across my skull.

"I believe it was more painful than they had anticipated."

Anderson finally settled back into his seat, "Good. The rebels hear of a girl who can kill a man with a touch, they're going to believe it's instantaneous. Prove them otherwise. I want those eight prisoners interrogated and properly disposed of, and as your commanding officer on this task, I want reports written to me before the tenth of next month."

And just like that, I was dismissed. I settled back into my seat beside Emmeline and felt as her gloved hand crept across the space between us. It was an offer, a broker for peace, I wouldn't take it. I didn't need comfort. This was my task, the job I was raised for.

I would not be the weaker sister between the two of us.

[xyveth-heartbane]

The Return Home

(( Cut simply for length. Mentions: @the-heartseeker for Ilyaeri ))

The Captain was happy to be leaving the warzone. Having finished his jobs in Kul Tiras, he was finally making his way back to the Siren’s Lament. Although his crew was split between the two new continents, and with the Captain having seen first hand the war that was brewing, as well as the developments occurring out in Nazjatar, he had no desire to be away from home any longer. He missed his ship, and he missed Ilyaeri. Given the nature of his assignments, he wasn’t able to give his dear treasure much information prior to his leave, nor had he been able to reach out while he was away, but now that he was returning home, he planned on surprising her with a visit.

As the ship he rode pulled into port, Xyveth simply shook his head as he looked out the window of the cabin he had been staying in. As much as he enjoyed being on the water, Xy would’ve been much happier being the one doing the sailing. ‘Hopefully Shin and Avery made some headway in their assignments...no way am I sailin’ on a boat that ain’t me own again.’ The Captain thought as he secured his belongings and made his way off the boat, and through the city of Stormwind.

As the Captain walked through the Alliance city, his gaze moved along his surroundings. Kal’dorei that had been displaced by the assault and burning of Teldrassil still sat along the city streets, families of soldiers out in Kul Tiras watching to see if their loved ones were walking off the ships, or being unloaded in caskets. The Captain’s blood practically boiled at the sight. No one deserved to lose their home, even if a war had broken out, although, as far as the Captain was concerned, this damned war should’ve never even started. As he continued walking, a small Kal’dorei child walked up to the disguised Sin’dorei, his gaze rising to meet Xyveth’s. 

“Well now, how can I help ye lad?” The Captain asked, lowering himself down to the youngster’s height, happier than ever to be disguised as a Ren’dorei, especially given his location.

“H-Hello….could you help me find my father? I told him I was coming down to the fountain, but when I went back to where I left him he was gone.” The young elf spoke, clearly a bit frightened and confused. “Aye, I think I can do just that lad.” The Captain replied, a slight smile coming to his face as he hoisted the young Kal’dorei up on his shoulders, and the two headed to the gates of the city.

“T-There he is!” The child spoke happily, pointing to an older Kal’dorei close to one of the inns by the city gates. The Captain quickly reached up and pulled the youngster off of his shoulders. 

“Come on, he must be worried sick, and I’m sure he’d want to thank you.” The child spoke, attempting to drag Xyveth told his father.

“Hold on a second lad, perhaps it be best if ye go on t’yer father alone.” Xyveth spoke quickly, taking fast notice of the Illidari that happened to be talking to the child’s father. “But tell ye what, take this to yer father, perhaps it’ll make life a bit easier on ye both fer a while.” The Captain spoke, only to open one of the pouches on his belt and pull out a small sack filled with gold.

“T-Thank you….uhm...I don’t even know your name.” The child spoke, casting his gaze up to the pirate once more. “T’name is Xyveth lad, now go on, go be wit’ yer father.” Xyveth spoke softly, gently pushing the child forward, only to vanish into the shadows, clearly needing to find another way out of the city, though as he left, he could hear the father relieved that his son had returned.

By the time Xyveth finally made it back to the Swamp of Sorrows, the sun had begun to set, and the stars were beginning to illuminate the night sky. As he approached his ship, he caught his reflection in the water that his ship had rested in, and almost pulled his pistol from his belt. ‘Damned disguise...been wearing this damn thing too long…’ The Captain thought, only to remove the black eyepatch from his face, the illusion charm placed upon it quickly shattering, returning him to his normal Sin’dorei self. He’d place the eyepatch within one of the pouches on his belt, and retrieve his crimson one and place it on as he approached the ship.

As Xyveth set foot on the Siren’s Lament, a wave of relief washed over the elf. As much as the Captain enjoyed his work, he never enjoyed being away from his ship for long, and now that he was back, he had no intentions of leaving anytime soon. The Captain pulled his flask from his belt, and took a swig of the whiskey held within, only to make his way to his quarters. As he walked, the sound of movement made his ears perk. “No one should be aboard….” he thought to himself, quickly drawing his pistol from his holster, quickly ensuring that it was loaded. He’d quietly make his way to the door of his room, only to take a deep breath, and quickly open the door, his pistol aimed ahead of him as he entered.

As he did his scan of the room, the Captain noticed nothing out of place. Hell, his quarters were cleaner than when he left. “I know I heard someone aboard….” the Captain murmured to himself, returning his gun to his holster, only to hear a gasp behind him, his good eye widening in slight horror. ‘Damn...die on me own ship….me friends’ll love tellin’ this story…’ The Captain thought, only to find himself getting hugged from behind, the arms wrapped around his torso rather familiar to him, only for a smile to quickly come to his face.

“Welcome home, my dear Captain.” Ilyaeri spoke, only for the Captain to turn around and quickly return the hug and place a soft kiss on the woman’s lips.

“Happy t’be home, me darlin’ treasure.” Xyveth spoke softly. He’d smile at her, happier to see her then he had ever been. “What are ye’ doin’ here?” He’d ask, clearly a bit surprised to see her aboard.

“Well, I hadn’t heard from you since you left, so I got worried. I ended up coming here...and I guess I just wanted to be here when you came home.” She giggled, her cheeks flushing slightly.

“I’m happy yer here luv’.” The Captain spoke, gently brushing some stray hairs from her face, only for his stomach to rumble rather aggressively, causing his own face to redden in embarrassment.

“Well, looks like you have perfect timing. I was just making myself some dinner, but I think there’s enough for two.” Ilyaeri spoke teasingly, stealing another kiss from the Captain only to smile and run out of his quarters towards the kitchen.

“It’s good t’be home.” The Captain chuckled, only to glance out his window and watch the sun vanish beneath the skyline before following after Ilyaeri.