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nana-au · 1 month ago

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𝐈 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄...

𝜗𝜚 Satoru Gojo Prince AU ♡ part six

𝜗𝜚 Summary: satoru dreams of you; eagerly awaiting your response. story summary based off of this drabble

𝜗𝜚 Warnings: cunnilingus, male masturbation. MDNI

𝜗𝜚 wc: 1,596

𝜗𝜚 an: this update is entirely skippable, and i am requesting minors do not engage with this specific part. adults who are not a fan of explicit smut should skip this part too. the story reads normally with or without this chapter. thank you for respecting my wishes.

┊p1┊p2��p3┊p4┊p5┊p6┊𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠... p7┊

Your quill hits paper once Satoru’s head hits his pillows and the potential contents of your note send his tired mind reeling. It’s only expected for his dreams to contain the potential outcome of your writing. It starts with you - all teary-eyed and sniffly as you scratch down your fears for Satoru’s eyes to consume. You tell him how it terrifies you to make your feelings known to the world and enter the judgmental eyes of the public and through the dark smudges of your ink he sees your blown out pupils - pulling him into your figure through the words on the page. Your body melts from his touch after being apart for so long - your sobs quieting as Satoru soothes you like he’s meant to. His hand finds your hair and he pets you lovingly, hushing your worries. “I’ll protect you, I promise,” his mouth tickles the curve of your ear as he whispers to you. “I won’t let them speak poorly about you,” he clicks his tongue, like the thought of someone daring to talk down on you deeply offends him. “You’re safe with me,” his lips touch your ear as he plants kisses, hands roaming your body to try to remedy your time apart. His words are doing something to you and he knows because he simply knows you too well. You can’t hide the way your body presses against his when he brushes his fingertips against your sensitive skin, exciting the Prince from how responsive you are. He pinches the fabric of your dress, the cotton material turning into luxurious silk that glides between his fingertips.

His world spins and the two of you are in bed now, the blue night gown adorning your body slowly peels up from his doing, exposing the plush skin of your thighs. “Satoru-” you purr, biting your lip as his hands grab the plump fat of your sides, massaging his fingers into your thighs. You sigh, breath catching when his large palms grab you possessively; working his fingers deep into the muscles of your legs, his thumbs coming dangerously close to where your thighs meet your center - hiccupping as he pays extra attention to the spot that makes your stomach lurch and toes curl. “Satoru-” you whine again, noticing he is using the back of his hands to slowly inch your nightgown higher onto your body, threatening to reveal what’s underneath. You call out his name once more and he revels in the sound; adoring the syrupy tone you use to say his name. It sounds sleepy and desperate, with a hint of uncertainty.

“Do you trust me?” he asks upon noticing your hesitation; his voice an octave deeper than usual and his eyes as dark as his intentions. His question is a nod back to the first intimate moment you both shared, knowing that you would recognize it too - relying on the pent up emotions of the unsatisfying end to your shared kiss to will you to let him continue. You look back at him, lids heavy with restless desire and he knew you wouldn’t say no. Couldn’t say no. “I’ll go slow,” he promises you, easing your apprehension and allowing you to melt into his touch. He adds his mouth into the mix, leaving slow, sloppy kisses to the skin of your inner thighs and your hips buck from the attention. You’re watching him intently, your unwavering gaze following his every move as he marks your body lovingly. He doesn’t bother to keep it clean - unable to stop his spit from staining your skin as he sloppily kisses your warm body. He makes a move to lift up your nightgown to your belly button - exposing the wet patch of your white panties while Satoru’s face rests between your thighs. He can sense how shy you suddenly become, your hand covering your mouth as you gawk at his blue eyes - glued to your twitching center. His thumb reaches up, cautiously swiping at the wet fabric of your gusset; gauging your reaction. You squirm, letting out a squeak and he continues prodding at your clothed entrance; dragging his knuckle against your folds. Your panties mold to the shape of your plump lips and Satoru shudders. His thumb inches up to your clit, softly circling it and taking note of the way your hips shudder from his curious attention. Satoru had never been with a woman and while he rubbed you through the thin fabric of your silk panties he took note of every curve of your twitching center. All though a virgin; Satoru had enough of a grasp through his extensive research he found in the pages of his favorite erotic literature. He was sure you would enjoy what he wanted to do to you - trusting the words on the pages he studied late at night while picturing you. “Such a beautiful and deserving Princess,” he mumbles, fingers still prodding and rubbing your puffy folds. You jump from the nickname, unsure of the new title he placed on you as he continued his sweet talking. “No one could ever keep this from me,” he spoke, “-and they would die from my hands if they tried,” he promises, eerily serious before leaning in to kiss your cunt; lips pursed against your pulsing clit. He loops his fingers into the gusset of your panties, pulling them down slowly; watching the sweetness pooling from your center sticking to the silk, creating strings while he dragged the article from your center down your legs. He licked his lips, already anticipating what he was going to do - enjoying how you fully trusted him - not asking questions but allowing him to show you just how much he loved you. It’s almost puppy-like the way his tongue lolls out of his mouth and attaches to your clit, dragging the rough muscle against the pearl between your legs. He messily licks, not bothering to make deliberate attacks to your core; instead he can’t help himself from desperately lapping up your juices. His tongue smears his saliva filthily against your wet heat, delving his tongue into your cunt to taste you from the source; groaning as the sweetness graces his taste buds. The saccharine juices do little to slow his mounting desire, causing him to grind his member against the mattress, itching for some kind of release while he gives you yours. He takes a moment to look up at you - your eyes painting the story of your love. Full of adoration, loyalty, lust, and weakness that he recognizes from before his world fell apart. Through his dreams he can feel the dagger of your raw emotion piercing his dormant heart - opening himself up to the reality of what he always knew. He needed you. All of you - and you did too. He was sure of it. He would do whatever it takes to see you look at him that way again.

While his subconscious processes the meaning of you in his dreams he continues performing cunnilingus. His spit trails from his lips while he messily kisses you and you’re squirming - unable to slow the roll of your hips while he repeatedly kisses and licks your sensitive bundle. “I need you,” you needily whine, gripping his white locks and keeping his soft lips attached to your lower pair, moaning breathlessly. “Satoru…” you’re begging and he peeks up at you, dragging his tongue slowly while he waits for you to make your point. “I want you Satoru,” you trail off, chest stuttering with every weak breath you take. Satoru pauses, turning his head to leave chaste kisses to your inner thigh before asking you to use your words. “All of it Satoru,” you cry, “I want all of it. All of you, Satoru,” you beg and he groans loudly, his brain growing fuzzy realizing what you were asking of him. He becomes too enthusiastic though, dick painfully hard and tip weepy - staining his sleep trousers which causes him to stir - regretfully departing him from the sensual scene his mind conjured during his slumber.

“No!” he chokes out, waking up to a cold bed. His cock pulses regardless of the fact you’re not there and he reaches his hand down, tugging roughly on his length. He bites his lip, the sweaty white strands of his hair stick against his forehead while his taut stomach lurches every time his fist meets his sensitive tip - squeezing it harshly - picturing your squelching cunt instead of his pathetic hand. He reaches his climax quickly, using the visions of you begging for him in his dream to guide him to his peak. He pants while he cums, slowing down his strokes while his hot sperm spurts against his belly. He hisses from the contact - his surroundings slowly coming back to him while he gasps for breaths. He closes his eyes, scrunching them to distract from the feeling of tears starting to pool.

He craves your body long after his release, unable to get the image of you underneath him out of his mind. And maybe it’s denial or delusion or lunacy or maybe even all three but he knows that is how you truly feel. It has to be. How could it not? How could he be the only one tortured by the absence of his other half? How could you not feel the need between you two that had been there since the beginning. Not just a sexual need - but an emotional and physical need too. The need to touch pinkies…to touch lips.

He anxiously awaited the contents of your letter.

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taglist: skipping for nsfw updates

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ficsilike-reblogged · 3 years ago

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Precious Inexperience II

A/N: Welp. You guys voted and here I am...trying to deliver my second attempt at a dark fic. Please let me know what you think. I never expected this little fic to take off like it did. I love you all. If you want a refresher--here’s the first part!

Pairing: King!Robb Stark x F!Reader

Rating: M for DARK THEMES including dub-con, death, death of children, Robb being a dick, a bit of smut, and canon-typical sexism

Warnings: Again, dub-con/dubious consent, talk of pregnancy and childbirth, men being terrible-PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: The King in the North was now King of the Seven Kingdoms. Peace reigned. Kings need heirs. But queens need love.

King’s Landing had over a half a million people calling it home and she had never felt more alone. Her ladies in waiting were kind but aloof, more preoccupied with making sure the child she was carrying was healthy than if she was happy. Court was filled with lords and ladies and foreign dignitaries who were all but throwing themselves at Robb’s feet in hopes to gain his favor—she was barely more than another tapestry on the cold stone walls of the Red Keep.

A pretty thing to be looked at and then ignored.

Whenever someone had deemed it a worthy venture to speak to her, Robb quickly put an end to it.

“You are here to speak to me, my lord, are you not? Do not let your eyes linger on my queen.”

But she was lonely. The only time she felt the smallest bit seen was when Robb came into her chambers. His hands still left her tender and hurting, even after the maesters confirmed she was with child a month after their wedding night. But he was all…he was all she had.

Writing to her mother, asking if she could come to the city to spend a season at her side, was quickly rebuffed as well. My darling girl, you are the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. I will not distract you from your duties. Your husband and child will come first, always.

That did nothing to bring her comfort.

And she learned quickly that Robb did not like her tears.

“Have I not given you enough? A crown? Jewels? Dresses from Essos? What more do you want?” His face was bright red with anger so she quickly wiped at her cheeks and nodded, murmuring an apology. He let out a strained sigh and she watched him walk toward her through watery eyes. His warm hands grasped her face and rough thumbs brushed away her tears. “You are my queen. You are bringing my heir into the world. You have made me happy, Y/N.” His hand settled over her stomach, now showing the advanced stage of her pregnancy. “That should be all that matters. You are emotional because you are with child. This will pass.”

It will pass.

It didn’t.

She winced as she felt her child move and kick as she laid atop her featherbed, listening to the city start to wake before the sun. Thankfully, the morning sickness had subsided only a few months into her pregnancy but the need to rise early had not left her.

Her door opened and she felt herself smiling as Robb entered. She knew he would stay, at least for a few moments. She would have someone who wanted her all to herself, even if just for a little bit.

Without a word, she held out her hands to him and welcomed him into her bed.

His hands were still rough as they tore at her thin nightdress. They were rough as they spread her legs. They were rough as grasped at her shoulders as he rutted against her.

“This is the first of many. You’re so beautiful like this.”

“I want…” The words were strangled in her throat when she felt that all-too familiar coil start to tighten and fray. He always made it feel good. “I want to be beautiful for you. Always.”

A visiting Pentoshi magistrate was the reason almost all of the court had gathered in the Great Hall. He had a band of exuberant contortionists and firebreathers to entertain the lords and ladies of Westerosi court while he spoke with Robb. His entourage were quick favorites of the upper echelons of society in King’s Landing and it was all so… strange. All this pomp and circumstance around a man who was essentially begging for help against the Dragon Queen who seemed hellbent on rebuilding the Valyrian Empire, including Pentos.

Robb would not help. She knew this. The Court knew this. But they wanted a bit of entertainment. This Pentoshi politician was not the first to come to beg for the Wolf King’s help and would not be the last.

But it did give her a little more to distract herself with, as the days dragged on.

She watched a young man contort himself into a strange shape while another contortionist balanced her entire weight on his foot. Robb was seated atop a raised dais with a grey stretch of fabric to keep the sun off his skin.

Beside him sat the Magister who had come and a handful of his advisors—Naavio was his name.

He had silver hair with piercing green eyes, a little thin compared to the King, but handsome in a strange way. He spoke the Common Tongue with the lilting accent of the Pentoshi people which made Y/N smile for some reason. Perhaps it was just the abnormality of his and his entourage’s presence that made it exciting but she felt a little like she had friends whenever one of them would stop and speak to her.

“How are you feeling this morn?”

“Have you decided on names for the young prince or princess?”

“You look as if you are glowing, your grace.” It was all so lovely. And it seemed so genuine, so unlike the empty-eyed smiles she would receive from her ladies-in-waiting and the rest of court. But her favorite was Naavio.

The magistrate made it a point to seek her out whenever he could.

“These two are my favorites,” he whispered to her.

Y/N nearly leapt from her skin, having not noticed him sneak up behind her. “Oh, Seven Heavens, Lord Naavio, you must not frighten me so!”

He chuckled. “I am sorry, Your Grace. You know I would never try to scare you. You are in a delicate state.”

Y/N pressed a hand to her stomach with a smile. “Yes, the maester said only a few more weeks until I can welcome them into the world.”

Naavio’s hand was suddenly pressing against her stomach too and she laughed when she felt her little one’s foot kick right where he had placed his palm. “They enjoy my presence just as much as their mother does, it seems.”

A sudden shadow loomed over them and Y/N pivoted to see Robb standing behind them. His silver and iron crown glinted in the sunlight, a sharp contrast to the near feral light in his blue eyes as he looked at her.

“Take your hand off my wife.”

Naavio’s hand quickly pulled back but he chuckled—again. “Your heir has a strong kick, Your Grace.”

“Yes. My heir.” Robb reached out and snatched Y/N’s wrist. His grip hurt but she knew better than to let out the hiss of pain she felt bubbling at the back of her throat. He tugged, just once, and Y/N knew to walk to his side.

There would be no spectacle.

“You must know how precious a child is,” Robb’s voice was steady but she knew better. The grip he had on her wrist dropped and he pressed his hand against the small of her back. “For a man who seems so desperate to save his kingdom, you are playing a dangerous game.”

Naavio blanched but he still smiled at the wolf-king. “I was only congratulating your wife on the health of her babe. It was a compliment-”

“My wife, the queen of my kingdom, knows how beautiful and lucky she is to be carrying my heir. She does not need your input.” Robb turned to her, eyes piercing. “Am I correct, wife?”

Y/N could only nod.

Y/N knew that Robb would never hurt her. His grip while in the throes of passion left her sore, but he never raised a hand to her. Seven Hells, he barely raised his voice. But Y/N knew of the violence that simmered just below the surface of his skin.

He was a wolf.

He was King.

He was the husband the gods had given her.

And she was scared of him. Something innate and quiet in the back of her mind told her she could not truly trust him. She was not safe.

But he had always kissed her when he was finished with her womanly duties.

And he still found pleasure in her even after he knew she was with child. His eye never wandered to the other many, beautiful highborn ladies who were readily available and arguably eager to be a young king’s mistress. But no.

He had his queen.

And he was his father’s son—that was what Robb had said, anyway.

“You are my queen. I will not dishonor you. And I know you will not dishonor me.” The words were cold as he slammed the door shut to his solar.

Y/N nearly lost her footing as she stumbled in but caught herself on the table, accidentally sending a stack of missives across the floor. “I thought it was a queen’s duty to make allies with her social graces and-”

“A queen’s duty is to provide for her husband.” Robb’s lips were pulled tight against his teeth. But he took a deep breath and then reached for her, hands grasping at her face. “I love you. You hear me? I love you.”

And she wanted to believe it. She had wanted to believe he could love her. “I love you too.”

He leaned forward to press a kiss against her forehead and then righted the spiked crown on the top of her head. “I will not have you near him again.”

Y/N nodded, resigning herself to the loss of another possible friend. Her one solace would be Robb, it seemed. As it had been since she came to King’s Landing. As it always would be.

But Naavio was persistent.

And she was lonely.

When the first letter was smuggled to her, she had not answered. But when the fourth came again and asked her to meet him in the gardens at midnight, her need for some sort of friendship won out and she slipped away from her maids and met the magistrate in a familiar stretch of the garden maze as the moon looked on from above in a starless sky.

“You’ve come!” Naavio said, reaching out to grasp her hands. “I was beginning to think I have offended you in some way, Your Grace.”

Y/N shook her head with a smile, ignoring the sudden sharp pain she felt in her stomach. “I am hard to offend, my lord. But it is good to have an ally in a city such as this.”

Naavio chuckled. “Yes, it seems King’s Landing is as fearsome as its king.” He was quiet for a moment, simply looking at her as his thumbs idly swept across the soft skin at the back of her hands. “Pentos is much more amiable.” His grip tightened. “I shall like to take you there, show you my home.”

Y/N’s smile widened just a fraction. “I would like that. I have heard such wondrous things about your home.”

“I could take you there. Spirit you away from this wretched city.”

She gasped and tried to tug her hands from his but his grip did not relent. “My lord, I-”

“You are not happy here. I can see it in your eyes. Do you want to raise your child here? Do you want to spend the rest of your days hoping your king does not lose his supposed love for you? You should be surrounded by people who worship you, adore you—and the babe you will bring into this world.”

Y/N stood and ripped her hands from his with a grimace as the pain she felt started to bloom and grow. “You misunderstand my intentions. I have only wanted friendship.”

Naavio stood with a sneer. “Then you are a fool. Only a child would misconstrue my attentions for mere friendship.”

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, to argue, to do anything—when she doubled over, clutching her stomach with a whimper as something trickled down her legs. “I…” Her legs shook and she threw out a hand to tangle in the branches of the greenery at her side, the only thing keeping her upright. “The baby. They’re coming.”

“What have you done?”

Another contraction had her almost falling to her knees but she looked over her shoulder to see Robb and a handful of his kingsguard at his back.

Naavio stood straight. “Your Grace-”

“Seize him.”

And the kingsguard did, almost gleefully taking the foreign magistrate to his knees and, by the sound of it, dislocating his shoulder as well. Naavio shrieked but Y/N could scarcely hear it over the roaring of the blood in her ears.

Familiar hands grasped at her face, tilting her chin up so she could look into the dark, hard eyes of her husband.

“The…baby…the baby is coming…”

“I know.” Robb pulled her close and she could feel the next words rumble in his chest. “Magistrate Naavio, you have tried to take my heir and seduce my wife.”

“I have done no such thing!”

Y/N crumpled in her husband’s hold with a choked scream.

“Take him to the Black Cells. I will deal with him later.”

It took two days to bring little Prince Eddard into the world. But he was beautiful—the most beautiful little one she had ever beheld. Her body was tired, her mind was buzzing, but all she could see was the little bundle in her arms.

Robb did not care about the blood and water and sweat coating the featherbed as he sat beside her and pressed a hard kiss to her temple. His finger traced down his son’s nose. “You have made me happy, Y/N.”

She smiled, eyes finally drooping.

“But it is time the magistrate is dealt with.” He stood and waved his hand, having one of her fine dresses laid out across the bed. In a blur, she was cleaned and dressed and a cup of Milk of the Poppy was all but shoved down her throat by an impassive Maester.

The Great Hall was filled with lords and ladies and knights from across the Realm. All of them had been waiting the birth of the heir of the wolf king but were now going to be witnesses to the king’s judgment, too.

“Naavio. You have come here to beg for reprieve against the Dragon Queen, to ask for help against her campaign.”

Naavio said nothing as he glared up at Robb on the throne, thick chains around his wrists and ankles. His Pentoshi ginery was dirty and ripped. The two days he had spent in the Black Cells had not been kind.

“Instead, you have tried to usurp my own power.”

“I did no-”

“I have sent a raven to Daenerys Targaryen, giving her the information you have given me. Your city will fall. It will burn with dragonfire.”

“Your Grace!” The words broke in Naavio’s throat.

The sudden noise made Eddard fuss in her arms and she gently rocked him, mind still hazy from the Poppy. But the cold green glint of Naavio’s eyes cut through the mess. He was a caged animal.

“This was you! You played your part so well. The innocent queen in need of rescue-”

“Silence!” Robb said, standing from the jagged throne. In the strange quiet of the Great Hall, he descended from his perch and took the reformed Ice from its sheath. “For your crimes against your host, against the good queen Y/N, I sentence you to die.”

Before Naavio could even plead for his life, Robb lifted the greatsword and took the magistrate’s head.

Robb was rutting against her, hard hands grasping at her breasts, pulling at the flesh of her hips, wrapping around her throat.

It hurt.

But she loved how he wrapped himself around her, loved how he would press his lips to her sweat-slick skin, loved him. Even if the maester had said it was too soon for the king to visit her chambers for such an act.

“You’ll give me another. You’ll give me ten more.”

“I will!” She cried.

“You’ll give me all of you because you are mine.” His hand tightened around her neck as his hips moved faster and faster. “Only mine.”

“Yours,” Y/N said as her throat burned.

His hips stuttered and a familiar warmth bloomed but he did not stop, could not stop until she was sobbing against his mouth with her own release. It hurt even more.

Sweat cooled on their skin as the high slowly died. Robb turned and pressed a biting kiss to her throat, still tender from his grip. His beard scratched her slick skin. “Mine. And you will always be mine.”

As she caught her breath, Robb rose from the mussed blankets of her featherbed and pulled his trousers on just as the door opened and a nursemaid brought in Eddard, snoozing in her arms. She readily handed the babe over to the king and then left, not even acknowledging the queen’s presence aside from a small curtsey.

Robb smiled down at his son and he looked genuinely happy—the smile he had reserved only for her.

She had made him happy. That was all she wanted.

“I will not have another man thinking to steal you away, wife.”

“O-of course not. You know I would never-”

“I must keep you to myself. And I will.” He looked at Y/N for a moment before leaning down to kiss his son’s forehead. The babe reached up and cooed, pressing his little hand against his father’s cheek. “You are mine. Only mine.”

He walked to the side of the bed and let her hold him as he dressed again and she lathed happy little kisses over her son’s face, listening to him giggle—but then Robb took him away. “What are you doing?”

“I am keeping you.” Robb kissed her cheek and then stood straight and walked to the door. When it opened, she saw three kingsguard standing outside, bedecked in their battle armor and swords at their hips.

“Robb?” His name was soft, strangled in her throat. “Your Grace?”

“She does not leave this room unless I am at her side.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Robb nodded and then smiled down at his son as the door swung closed. A heavy lock twisted.

Y/N stared at the door. She was not sure if she expected it to open again, or to at least hear another word from Robb on the other side, telling her what she must to do. But there was nothing.

She was alone.

A/N: All right! There we go! Please let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!

#robb stark x reader #robb stark imagine #robb stark #darkfic #game of thrones #dubious consent #toxic relationship #tw: dub-cob #tw: dubious consent #dub con #game of thrones imagine

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gossip-girl-of-middleearth · 4 years ago

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The Wrong Kind of Stardust (Legolas x Reader)

Synopsis: After taking Legolas, your partner, to visit your “Stardust” addict brother, things get a little chaotic.

A/N: I’ve been thinking about Legolas a lot lately, and one thought that’s recently crossed my mind is “what if Legolas got high on crack?” and my brain ran with the rest. Sometimes you just gotta write about an elf on cocaine.

Warnings: drug abuse, addiction, peer pressure, mentions of sex, a very crazy and over-the-top elf high on Stardust.

Dismounting your respective horses, both you and Legolas dropped to the pine needles below. You had finally arrived at your brother’s secluded cottage in the forest, away from the hustle and bustle of the cities.

“I can’t believe he actually managed to afford a place to live,” you scoffed, thinking of your brother.

He had suffered many years with addiction to “Stardust”—a white powder when once inhaled, made your body react faster and more impulsively than usual.

“Try to be optimistic,” Legolas soothed. He wrapped one arm around your shoulder and kissed your head. “Keep in mind how much you want your older brother at our wedding, and that’ll put things into perspective.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, supposing he was right. “This wouldn’t be the first time Franny lied about ‘being better’, though.”

“No,” Legolas agreed, walking you both forward towards the cottage, arm around your back. “But this is the first time he’s said so upon us getting married in a month.”

The grin he gave you was one brimming in lovesickness, as he studied your eyes.

You arched a brow up at him over his words, knowing exactly how elvish marriages were undertaken, and how you technically already were husband and wife.

Catching your expression, he cleared his throat sheepishly, and responded with, “Well…married formally, at least.”

You rolled your eyes away from him, but couldn’t fight the smile on your face. However, it soon ran away, as you both arrived at the closed front door.

You inhaled tightly, and spoke aloud. “Here we are, I suppose.”

Hearing the premature disappointment in your voice, Legolas looked down his side at you. Grabbing hold of both of your hands, he gazed into your eyes and reassured you.

“Hey,” he lulled, earning your full attention. “It’s all going to be fine, all right? You needn’t worry about your family embarrassing you in front of me, like you mentioned on the road. We’ve talked about this whole ‘prince and commoner’ thing at length. I wouldn’t have…married you if I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.”

Your heart melted and your knees turned to mush, as you smiled up at him—bursting with love.

He returned the look and brought one hand up to cup your cheek. Running a thumb along your cheekbone, he began tilting your head upwards.

Still feeling your stomach flutter after all these years, you eyed him in excitement, before steadily closing your lids.

Right before his lips could brush against yours, however, the door to your brother’s cottage slammed opened.

Jolting away from one another, you both looked at Francis in shock. He looked every bit like you, but taller.

A broad grin was on Francis’ face, as he eyed his sister up.

“Y/n!” he exclaimed, rushing forwards to tackle you into a hug. “I’m so glad you made it! Oh! I haven’t seen you in years! And to think that you’re now getting married! Speaking of which—”

He pulled back from squeezing you blue, to size up Legolas instead. He strutted forwards with a low, manly laugh, and gripped a suddenly rigid and wide-eyed Legolas tight on the shoulders.

“My future brother-in-law!” he exclaimed, quickly pulling the protesting elf into a bear hug. “An elf, AND a prince! I can’t believe how well my sister scored!”

Laughing nervously, Legolas awkwardly wrapped his arms around Francis, patting him on the back. The only person he’d ever truly been skin-to-skin intimate with was you. Everyone else got a closed fist to the chest, or a shoulder clasp.

“It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Francis,” Legolas said, politely.

“Francis?” he exclaimed, pulling back and holding Legolas straight by the shoulders. “Who are you, my mother? Don’t be so formal, your highness! You can just call me ‘Franny’, like Y/n here does!”

He turned to you with a broad grin, and you returned it, though, in a lipped manner. Legolas offered a tight and confused grin back, unsure at the best of times on how to interact with humans. Francis was certainly the most bizarre one he’d met yet.

He almost regretted encouraging you to visit him, but the thought of your nearing wedding day ahead drove him forward, as well as one simple, repetitive thought.

Do it for Y/n.

“Well, don’t be strangers now!” Francis pressed on, ushering you both inside. “Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Tea? Moonshine?”

“Tea is fine, Franny,” you said in an almost scolding tone, knowing he shouldn’t drink at all.

As you stepped inside of the home, you inspected every nook and cranny with your eyes—expecting bags of Stardust to be lying around.

However, to your surprise, there were none.

“Tea coming right up!” Franny declared, whisking away to the kitchen. “Please! Make yourselves at home down at the table!”

Legolas thanked him with a smile, and sat you down in a gentlemanly manner, before taking his seat next to you.

Looking around the room, and pleasantly surprised with your brother, you voiced so aloud.

“Wow, Franny, this place actually looks amazing! I’m quite proud of you—it seems as though you’ve really cleaned up your act this time, as opposed to the last occasion.”

“I’m completely clean, sister!” his voice came from the kitchen. You could also hear the whistling of a kettle and the rattling of drawers.

You smiled up at Legolas with excitement in your eyes, as you truly believed your brother. He returned your smile, and offered a brighter one as you spoke.

“I think he’s really done it…should we invite him now?”

“Absolutely,” he encouraged. “Do you want to go get the invitation out of the saddle-bags?”

Nodding resolutely, you stood to your feet. You placed a peck against his lips, before leaving out the door again.

“Make friends with him,” you said, before leaving with a happy skip in your step.

He waved you goodbye, before Francis’ voice caught his attention.

“Y/n! Hey, do you think—oh, where’d she go?”

Legolas looked over his shoulder to find Francis’ head sticking out of the entranceway into the kitchen, as he looked left and right for his sister.

“She’s just stepped outside for a moment,” Legolas answered, politely.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Francis dropped his act, and his expression.

The change in demeanour chased the smile away from Legolas’ face, as he parted his lips in shock up at the man.

“I beg your pardon?” Legolas asked, already on the “what did you just say about my wife?” boat.

“She can be a real nagger sometimes,” Francis explained. He dropped to his knees and pulled a wooden plank out from the floorboards. Underneath, a brown bag of white powder lay.

He fetched it quickly, and came to sit on the couch next to Legolas, but a few feet away. Francis then began pouring a handful out, where he next went onto inhaling some.

“What are you doing?!” Legolas nearly squealed, jumping to his feet, as if a snake was just placed next to him.

“Elevating myself. What’s it look like, elf?” Francis sassed, quirking a brow up at Legolas.

“Are you insane?” the angry side of Legolas emerged. “Y/n just left to retrieve your wedding invitation, and you’re betraying her trust?”

“Relax, would you?” Francis complained, inhaling more of the dust from his hand. “What she doesn’t know won’t kill her.”

“Uh, I’m standing right here,” Legolas pointed out, gesturing to his body.

Looking his brother-in-law up and down, Francis replied, using a very monotonous voice. “Uh, yeah, I can see that. You’re a real stud of a stallion, so what?”

“No, that’s not what I—” Legolas went to defend himself. However, he bit his tongue and pressed both hands together in a praying motion. He brought said hands up to his face, and rested his forehead against them.

Closing his eyes, Legolas took a deep breath of his own.

“Wow, you look really stressed there, my friend,” Franny pointed out, holding the bag up next. “Would you like to try some?”

Jolted back into his senses, Legolas gaped down at the man for a minute in shock, before anger gave way again. “NO, FRANCIS! I WOULD NOT LIKE SOME OF YOUR DRUGS! Y/n will be devastated when she finds out you’re using again! And I encouraged her to give you another chance—I see why she was so against it now.”

The frown and glare of Legolas only deepened, as Franny rose to his feet, squaring up with the slightly taller elf.

“Hey, pal, you have no idea what I’m all about,” he growled, nodding his head in gesture of the elf. “And besides, who are you to judge? You’ve never even tried Stardust before!”

“Oh,” Legolas scoffed, rolling his eyes, “excuse me for having never done drugs before, what a horribly ignorant elf I am.”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” Francis urged, holding up a handful to Legolas’ nose. “C’mon, just a little sniff! You’ll feel a lot calmer soon, I promise!”

“No!” Legolas rejected, swatting his hands. “Get that stuff away from me, Francis!”

“C’mon!” Francis drew out, trying to put it underneath Legolas’ dodging nose. “Just a little bit of Stardust won’t hurt you!”

“No, but it’ll hurt Y/n!” he protested, trying to move away from the adamant man.

“Just a little!” he urged again, chasing Legolas, as the elf was backed into a corner.

“No!”

“Yes!”

“NO!”

“YES!”

“I SAID NO!”

“Okay, you know what?” Francis rolled his eyes, now fully having the elf cornered. “Here!”

With one big puff of air, the entire handful of Stardust blew into Legolas’ face, entering his system almost immediately.

Legolas rapidly blinked his eyes open and shut, as he tried to get rid of the dust. The white powder danced between the man and elf in an equal amount, getting both high very quickly.

As the dust fluttered down to the floor, looking as though a bag of flour had just exploded, Legolas stared at his brother-in-law in shock.

“You…” he attempted to say, before he felt the pumping of his heart increase.

“Oh, yes, my friend,” Francis grinned, nodding his head. “You’re in for a good time…”

Outside, you had finally found the wedding invitation in your saddle-bag, now heading back on over towards the cottage.

You barely had time to announce your presence again, for the first thing you saw upon re-entering was your brother and husband kneeled on the floor, speaking fast and brooming up…flour?

“I feel like everything’s gonna work out, you know? Because I’m like clockwork!” your brother said, all in one go, to Legolas, as they quickly broomed everything up. “Look how fast I’m cleaning this mess up! Clockwork! I’m moving super-fast! Look at me go!”

Legolas nodded vehemently, and raised one finger to speak over the top of your brother, as they both continued vigorously cleaning the floor.

“Y-You know what’s funny? Can I speak? You know what’s funny?” he began, quick as a whip. “I feel like I should be panicking right now, and I am a little bit, but in a very, very good way—like a good kind of panic, because I feel like I want to die right now, but I also feel very, very good—”

“Hey!” you called, staring at them in confusion. “What on earth are you guys doing?”

“Y/n!” Legolas gasped, shooting to his feet.

Jumping over the couch in a way that made your eyes go wide, Legolas was instantly stood before you.

“I feel amazing!” he revealed, grabbing a chunk of blonde hair either side of his head, and pulling outwards. “LOOK HOW LONG MY HAIR IS! It’s growing out of my head right now—can you believe that? Isn’t that sort of disgusting? Ew, I’ve just made myself feel uncomfortable in my own body—”

Legolas gasped brightly, and met your eyes again. This was where you saw how dilated they were.

“CAN I BORROW YOUR BODY INSTEAD?” he asked, suddenly grabbing your waist. “THAT’S A BRILLIANT IDEA! And I know how to go inside, too, so it’ll all feel much better soon—”

“Are you high on…Stardust?!” you exclaimed, removing his hands from your waist.

Legolas blinked down at you rapidly for a few seconds, before slowly answering.

“No…?”

“I can’t believe it,” you seethed. Pushing past Legolas, you glared down at your laughing brother. “You’re absolutely deplorable, Francis! Don’t even THINK about showing up to the wedding!”

You tore up his invitation, and threw it down onto the ground below. You next began shoving a reluctant Legolas out of the house.

Fortunately, once he felt the pine needles on his feet (he was barefoot, for some reason), he gasped loudly and took off running.

“LOOK HOW GREEN IT IS!” he exclaimed. “HAVE YOU EVER NOTICED HOW GREEN IT IS? THE COLOURS ARE BURSTING RIGHT NOW ALL AROUND ME. I feel as though it’s sort of designed in my honour, you know? As in, nature really understands—SQUIRREL—what my name means.”

You rubbed your temples with a grinding of your teeth, as you watched your husband sprint off to climb a tree, where he beckoned you to join.

Growling, you spoke lowly under your breath.

“This is going to be a long ride home…”

Hearing a strangled yelp, you noticed that Legolas had already fallen out of the tree. You sighed, and began walking over—already knowing your words to be true.

190 notes · View notes

dontmindmyshadowhunting · 3 years ago

Text

When Clary meets Ash (Fan Fic)

Hey :) this is how I imagine Clary and Ash's reunion (after the events of TDA) in the fic I am currently writing.

It's Chapter 5 of "The new Shadowhunter Academy" (Ao3 link to the full fic is here but don't click or skip Chapter 4 if you are not in for Kitty sexy times).

Thanks to @amchara for providing beta work and to @blaidr for letting me bounce my ideas off him.

To give you context, Ash met Dru in Faerie and they exchanged their numbers. Clary seized the opportunity to obtain Ash's number from Dru and write him the following text message:

“Hey, Ash. Dru gave me your number and please don’t be angry with her, I am very strong headed and there was absolutely no way she could have refused. I am Clary. You may have heard of me. I am your late father’s sister. That’s right, your aunt. You can call me whatever you like. Emma told me what you did in Thule, how you saved her. How you saved everyone. That was very brave of you. In a way, both of us were faced with a very difficult choice and made the same. Doing what we thought was right. I would love to meet you and tell you about my mother – your grandmother – or just talk about anything. It can be things totally unrelated to the Shadow world. Hobbies, movies, books and games we like. You can pick the time and place. Neutral territory. Hope to see you soon. Clary.”

This is what happens following the text:

*****

Clary wrapped her oversized woolen coat tighter around herself, as she made her way through the crowded streets of Manhattan. The route was familiar. She took it almost every week to meet up with her parabatai and have what they called their “mundane hour”. They talked about everything, from Clary’s art to the latest TV shows they had binge watched. No topic was off the table, save for anything related to Shadowhunter duties, and the Shadow world in general. As co-head of the New York Institute and since recently, artist owning her own gallery, her weeks were very busy so she looked forward to those rare and precious moments when she could escape with Simon. Her heart rate seemed to accelerate with each of her steps, and it didn’t help that she also had the strange feeling she was being observed. When she reached her destination, she took a deep breath and opened the double glass doors leading her inside the coffee shop. She and Simon had their regular routine there, and her gaze went automatically to their usual spot, near the large windows.

A broad-shouldered jock with a baseball jacket was already sitting there, speaking loudly to his cheerleader girlfriend. Two of his friends were standing next to him, mock punching his muscular arms. It made her realize that Ash probably never had this. High school friends and romance. Ash. She was still struggling to figure out why he had asked her to meet up at this place, at the exact time she usually got there with Simon. Was it him being considerate, a clumsy way to make her feel comfortable in familiar surroundings? Or was it a warning? I know your habits, and precisely where you take your coffee, when and with whom.

Her gaze swept over the crowded room - her heart seemed to have moved up her throat, the frantic pulse almost choking her - and zeroed on a tall, white blond haired boy ordering coffee at the counter, standing with his back to Clary. She sucked in a breath. Ash. He was fully clothed in black - Dru had told her that was his usual style - and huge headphones were covering his ears. She slowly and cautiously approached him and when she was close enough, put a tentative hand on his elbow. “Ash,” she whispered. The boy glanced over his shoulder, his blue eyes quizzical and… it was not Ash.

She mumbled an apology.

“Clary,” said a voice coming from behind, and she froze. It was not a boy’s but a man’s voice, the sound beautiful and ethereal. She just stood there for a few seconds before she slowly turned.

What had she expected? Merely a taller version of the young boy with pointy ears and a sour expression that she had met three years before, dressed in the same refined velvet clothing threaded with gold that identified him as fey royalty?

If so, she had clearly been mistaken.

She blinked a few times to make sure her mind wasn’t playing tricks. He was tall, as she had anticipated (Sebastian had been after all). At least two heads taller than her and probably taller than Jace. But he was also very different from the Ash of her memories, from the sketches she had drawn of him after they had crossed paths. He had amazingly grown into his features, his face now the best combination of the Seelie Queen and Sebastian’s. As if he had picked the most alluring colours of the palette. And the result was… Stunning. Clary’s hand twitched, aching for a pencil.

He was not dressed in black, but in plain blue jeans and he had stuffed his hands in a very elegant, long pale gray cashmere coat. His white blond hair and pointy ears were concealed under a deep green beanie, the same colour as the scarf around his neck.

He arched a silvery eyebrow at Clary, his expression bemused, and she realized she was staring.

“Clary, seriously?” he said, his gently scolding tone at odds with his enchanting voice. “This guy isn't even half as good looking as me." He glanced pointedly at the patron in question, who was gaping at him, and shrugged. "No offense, dude,” Ash added as an afterthought.

He turned his attention to the barista. She was beautiful, dark skinned with long braided hair and pouty lips. “Hello, gorgeous. We’ll have a double espresso with oat milk and a dash of cinnamon for the lady and a plain black coffee for me.”

Clary stifled a gasp and tried to hide her discomfort. He knew exactly how she took her coffee, and she didn’t know how she felt about this.

The pretty barista nodded eagerly, her cheeks red and her big dark eyes dreamy as she stared at Ash. “Why don’t you… Go sit at your table and I’ll bring you your beverages when they are ready?” the girl offered enthusiastically. The long line of patrons that had formed behind Clary and Ash would probably disagree but she didn’t seem to care.

“That would be lovely,” Ash said in his euphonious voice. “And so are you.” He winked at her, and Clary wondered if she would need to catch her while she swooned. He paid before Clary even had a chance to reach for her purse.

“Come,” he said in a commanding tone, as he made his way to Clary and Simon's usual table. This was unnerving.

The jock seated there paused in the middle of his conversation with his girlfriend when he saw Ash stand casually next to him. Clary braced herself for a heated exchange, but she should have known better.

“You want to sit somewhere else,” Ash said evenly, one hand inside the pocket of his designer coat and the other stretched out in front of him as he studied his fingernails.

“I want to sit somewhere else,” the jock repeated in a monotonous voice, his gaze blank. He stood, as if in a trance, and his girlfriend and friends followed him, puzzled, to an empty table at the far end of the room.

Ash drew a chair for Clary and she sat. He did the same, opposite her. He pulled off his beanie, and shook his silvery hair, like a crown of liquid white gold. He wasn’t dressed for the part but he had never looked more like a prince.

“Ash… please don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Your mind tricks.”

He cocked his head and observed her, his face unreadable, for what seemed like an endless minute.

“You’ve been my aunt for what? Five minutes? And you’re already trying to boss me around?”

“I am not trying to boss you around, Ash. Simply asking you not to abuse your powers.”

A shadow flickered across his green eyes.

“I’ll let you in on a secret, Clary. I spend much more time and energy holding back than using my powers. If I did let go, trust me, you would know.”

Clary opened her mouth to reply but was cut short as the barista popped in front of them and placed the mugs on the table. She slid a paper napkin to Ash, her phone number scribbled on it. Clary tried not to roll her eyes, as Ash flashed his dazzling smile at the girl, who almost tripped on her own feet as she returned to the counter.

Clary lifted her cup to her lips and paused, as she caught sight of the cinnamon powder floating on the surface. She put it down.

“What about this?" She pointed at her coffee mug and waved around them. “ What is it, if not a show of power? What are you trying to tell me? That you know everything about me? That you’ve been spying on me?”

Ash pulled on a fake shocked expression, mouth open and green eyes wide in mock innocence. “Spying on you? What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Ash. The evidence is right here.” She lifted her cup abruptly, and hot liquid splashed out of it. “You know exactly how I like it. When I take it, where I take it.”

Ash’s mouth twitched. “Where did you pick up these lines? From the script of some lame X-rated movie?”

“Adult movies have storylines?” Clary asked, arching her eyebrows.

“Of course they do. Where do you think the Grimm Brothers took their inspiration from?”

He grabbed the paper napkin and started mopping the coffee she had spilled on the table. The blue ink faded and the barista’s phone number vanished.

“You lost that girl’s number,” Clary noted.

Ash shrugged. “I have a girlfriend now.”

Right. Drusilla Blackthorn. From the moment she had met her, Clary had known that the smart and quiet turquoise-eyed girl would someday turn heads.

Clary knew that Dru hadn’t really confirmed their relationship status yet, but it was neither the time nor place to broach the subject with Ash. She was, after all, on a mission to win over her nephew and had not been doing a very good job so far.

A young lanky boy with pink hair and piercings covering his skin walked by and dropped a glossy flyer of the upcoming Mortal Instruments concert on the table between them. Clary hid a smile. It reminded her...

“I have something for you.” She said as she fumbled inside her bag and took out the drawing she had made of Jocelyn, Luke and herself, in front of Luke’s upstate farm (before it was turned into the new Shadowhunter Academy) and laid it on the table.

Ash looked at it hesitantly, like a kid who really wanted to grab the candy but was afraid there was a mouse trap under it. He hunched his shoulders forward and clasped his hands under the table, as if to keep himself from temptation.

“I recognize your art. I like it. I also appreciate Julian Blackthorn’s but I may not be as objective where… one of the subjects of his drawings is concerned.”

“You’ve seen my art?”

He leaned back on his chair, crossing his long arms behind his head. Somehow, he managed to make it look graceful.

“Which Shadowhunter hasn’t? I noticed that you often drew Jace with angel wings.”

“Yes. That’s how he used to appear to me. In recurring dreams.”

“Was it?”

“Was it what?”

“Jace. In your dreams.”

“Who else would it be?”

“Someone who looks like him, but who actually has wings.”

“You mean Kit.”

Ash shrugged. “It would make more sense.” His gaze flickered back to the drawing, which still lay on the table, untouched. “You look a lot like your mom.”

“So do you”, Clary blurted before she could take it back.

Ash shot her an unfathomable look.

“How is she?” She asked.

“You mean, the Seelie Queen? You tell me. You must see her more often than I do.”

“Well, not really. I am not that involved in politics, even though Alec is Consul. Julian Blackthorn is the one who deals with her most of the time. She appears to have... a fondness for him.”

“Who doesn’t?”

Clary’s mouth quirked up.

“I am glad you are getting along with the Blackthorns. They are such an incredibly strong and talented family.”

“They are.” He turned his face away, but not before she could see the expression of longing plain on his delicate features.

She swallowed. She was painfully reminded that Ash never had a shot at a happy family. Born of a political union, and dragged here and there, though interdimensional portals, by people more interested in his powers than anything else he had to offer as a person. And judging by how Dru talked about Ash, he had a lot to offer.

“I imagine it must have been awful living in Thule… But what you did for Emma and Julian back there... if it hadn’t been for you…”

“I don’t want to talk about Thule,” he interrupted her. “Can I borrow this?” He asked, his long fingers brushing the Mortal Instruments concert flyer.

“Sure.”

She watched as he started folding the paper, realizing with a jolt of surprise that he was making an origami and wondering what shape would come out of it. It was odd seeing him doing such an innocuous thing, as if he was not a faerie prince with a heavy heritage and a giant target on his back, but an ordinary boy. She remembered what Emma had told her of her encounter with Ash in a nightclub in Thule. The way he had shown no interest, playing a video game in a corner of the room, while Sebastian was committing atrocities. Had he really been as indifferent as he looked?

“Ash, we don’t need to talk about Thule if you don’t want to, but if I can help you… If there is anything I can do-”

“Why?” He looked up sharply. “Are you able to create a rune that could undo the things I saw?” His tone was even, but his delicate fingers had started slightly shaking and he suddenly dropped the paper - his work unfinished - to fold his hands under the table to hide it. From that moment, she knew.

“No…” Clary said, drawing the word out. “But trust me, coming from someone whose memory has been tampered with... it’s not a solution.”

“I said undo. Not forget.” He snapped. “I am not such a coward that I would choose blissful ignorance over knowledge.”

He caught himself, blinking, then clenched his jaw and looked away. As if he was ashamed he had allowed himself to show any emotion at all. But Clary had managed to catch a glimpse of what lay underneath the mask and wanted nothing more than to see the rest of it.

“I don’t think you are a coward,” she said.

He looked over at her, a silver eyebrow raised. “I let it all happen, didn’t I? I didn’t lift a finger.”

“Because you couldn’t. Sebastian would have killed you. And you, Ash, are just like me. A survivor.”

He snorted and crossed his arms in front of him, leaning back on his chair. He had stretched out his long legs and Clary realized that he was tapping a foot nervously next to hers.

“Wrong. I could have. I chose not to. Because I am selfish. I don’t care about other people’s fate.”

His face split into a lazy, wicked grin. Clary could see Sebastian’s influence in his leer, but she wouldn't let it deceive her. Just as she wasn't fooled by his laid-back demeanor.

“I think it’s the opposite, actually. I think it’s because you care too much. It’s not death you are afraid of. The thing is, you have such a tender heart, you need to protect it from an affliction far greater than any physical pain you could endure. So you’d rather lie to yourself and pretend you feel nothing.”

From the long conversations she had with Tessa about her ancestors, Clary knew of a Fairchild boy who had been too compassionate for his own good. And he had been surrounded by loyal friends and loving parents, even though he had shut himself, putting on a facade while burying his grief in alcohol. Ash never had that kind of support. Throughout his life, he was left to figure things out on his own. If he was as empathetic as Clary thought he was, Ash probably had no other choice but to deal with his sensitivity alone. It was a miracle he had turned out the way he did.

“You have a lot of imagination,” he said after a moment. The ghost of a smile was still playing on his lips but something had passed across his eyes. “Then again, you are an artist. You seek beauty in the ugly. You find colors on a blank page. I admire your faith, but in this case, there is nothing to see.”

Clary jutted her chin stubbornly and they held each other’s gaze - his green eyes glittering in amusement and hers dead serious - in a staring contest.

“Still,” he said when he finally broke, first. “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. I am sorry.”

Clary softened. “Don’t be. I am glad you are finally showing your true self. You don’t need to wear your mask around me, Ash.”

He chuckled. “Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.”

“It’s funny that you would quote Oscar Wilde.”

“And why is that?”

She shrugged. “Just another thing you share in common with a Fairchild I heard stories about.”

“Clary,” he said in a gently reproving tone. Her name sounded like a caress in his melodious voice. “Are you being purposefully cryptic to arouse my curiosity?”

She moved closer, so she was sitting at the edge of her chair, and leaned forward, hands folded over the table.

“If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine,” she whispered. “Let me in. Shed all pretense.”

“I can’t promise you that,” he whispered back in confidence, leaning closer still so that their faces were inches from each other. “It’s like fabric that burns and melts into skin. If you peel it off, the skin goes with it.” He grimaced, reclining on his chair. “It won’t be a pretty sight. I don’t think even my level of hotness could sustain it.”

“Ash…” Clary said, sensing that she finally had an opening to say what she had been brooding over ever since she had learnt of Ash’s return from that forsaken land. “I wanted to tell you… I am sorry.”

Ash’s green eyes widened.

“Sorry for what?”

“I should have looked for you. I should not have given up on you.”

Ash’s jaw clenched and he looked away. “Don’t,” he said through gritted teeth. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I do. Seb-...Ash, we...”

“What did you just call me?” He snarled. His eyes snapped back to her, suddenly cold as ice.

“Sorry, Ash. What I meant to say is… we are family."

“I already have a family.”

“I know that you care about Janus…”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” he cut her off.

“And we don’t need to. I just wanted you to know… I understand that he’s been like a father to you, and I don’t plan on moving against him, unless he strikes first or makes it impossible for me to overlook his actions.”

“Because of me?”

“Of course, because of you.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Ash… You are my nephew, my blood. You may not feel the same way about me, but that’s how I feel about you. I want you to know that, if things go wrong, for any reason, you can always turn to me. My home is your home.”

“What you are actually telling me is, Ash, if I kill the one person who has ever really cared about you - and it might definitely come to that - you can always grab my hand, still sticky and warm from his blood. Well, how nice of you. To quote Oscar Wilde again, true friends stab you in the front.”

“That’s not what I am-”

“Clary,” Ash interrupted as he stood. “Do not make me choose between you and him. Because…” Looking down at her, he swallowed hard, as if the words pained him. “Because you will lose.”

She knew exactly what he was telling her. Because they were the same in that way. Ruthless, even with their own blood, when it came to protecting their loved ones. If I had to choose between killing him and you, I would not hesitate. I would end you. Yet, despite his cold statement, despite his sharp and resolved tone, his eyes seemed to carry a deep regret.

“Ash, I understand what you're saying and I swear I am not trying to make you pick a side”, Clary said, suddenly desperate, as she mirrored him and stood. “Please don’t go. I am sorry I brought it up. We will stop talking about him. Starting now.”

“This was a bad idea. Never try to contact me again.” He drew his green beanie from the pocket of his coat and put it back on. He turned and strode toward the exit. She grabbed the family drawing that still lay on the table, stuffed it in her bag and followed him, half-running, as he was quickly losing here with his long legs.

“Ash! Please. Give me another chance. I am so sorry.”

He paused right outside the coffee shop, closed his eyes and sighed. “Don’t be. It didn’t change what I had planned to tell you anyway. I don’t want to know anything about you or your mother. I don’t want to have anything to do with either of you.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” she said, and he whipped his head around to look at her in surprise. “I know you were under house arrest. You probably had to break out of whichever place they were holding you in to come here. You wouldn’t have done that unless you wanted something. Something from me. Tell me, Ash. Tell me what it is.”

He turned his face away so she could not see his expression. A full minute passed and she had almost given up on receiving an answer, when he finally spoke.

“My fa… Sebastian. How different do you think he would have been if not for the demon blood?”

“Oh. Ash.” she whispered. She brought her knuckle against her sternum instinctively, as if to cover the gaping whole in her chest. “I saw him, you know. The brother I should have had. The father that should have raised you. If only for a few minutes.” She paused to bite back tears. “In those few minutes, he told us how to get rid of the Endarkened and said he was sorry. It’s not much to go for, but… that’s not all. I have recurring dreams of the green eyed boy that was robbed from us. And I know in my heart he would have been the best brother a sister could ever dream of.”

He was still looking away and she could see the sharp line, the stubborn set of his jaw. She wanted to hug him, to tell him she would not fail him again. That they could mourn her brother, his father, together. That he didn’t need to bear the anger at everything that was wasted alone.

He finally turned to look at her. A tear had escaped to run freely down his cheek. He had completely shed off his mask, and what Clary saw was like a stab in her gut. She shivered. Wordlessly, he reached for his deep green scarf and tied it gingerly around her neck. The way Sebastian had when they had walked down the streets of Paris. Ash looked nothing like her brother had then. His green eyes held an infinite sadness that spoke of a grief deeper, older than the short years of his life.

“It doesn’t change anything.” He said - she hadn’t imagined his beautiful voice could sound so hollow - and turned to leave.

“Ash, wait.” She grabbed him by the elbow and he froze. His eyes widened as his gaze zeroed on the fingers covering his coat, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. She realized she had never touched him before.

“Clary, what do you want from me?” He asked in a tired voice.

“I just want to get to know you.”

“Trust me, you don’t. I am not the brother who was stolen from you. I cannot replace him. If anything, I am just like Sebastian was before me... my father’s broken toy. There is no way to fix me.”

“I don’t believe it for a second,” she said, almost frantic. “And I don’t want to find my brother's replacement, I want to get to know you! Ash. The real Ash.”

“I already told you. That’s not happening. Don’t ever try to contact me again. I am serious.”

“So that’s it?” She tried not to sound too whiny but panic was eating away at her stomach and she thought she would throw up. “You went through all this trouble spying on me, learning how I take my coffee to simply disappear from my life from one moment to the next?”

He gazed at her for a moment, his expression unfathomable. It seemed like an eternity before he finally spoke.

“I was not spying on you, Clary. I was merely following your stalker.”

“What? You were… protecting me?”

“Take care of yourself, Clary.”

He said as he stepped away from her and vanished into the crowd.

****

Clary threw herself in Jace’s arms as soon as he opened the door to their bedroom at the New York Institute. He froze, then started stroking her hair in a soothing gesture.

“Clary, what happened? Is everything okay?”

“No,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

“Tell me, Clary. What is it?”

She pulled away and wiped tears with the back of her hand. Jace’s face was a mask of shock. Clary couldn’t blame him. She almost never cried.

“I messed up.”

“What did you mess up?”

She walked to the bed and sat on the mattress. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for his reaction. “Ash. I met up with him earlier today.”

Jace tensed and his hands clenched into fists. “WHAT- Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you would have insisted on coming.”

“Damn right, I would have. And I would have been right, too. Look at you, you look miserable.”

“It’s my fault,” she said in a small voice. “I pushed him too far.”

Jace sighed and came to sit next to her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulder. “I am sure you did nothing wrong, Clary.”

“I thought- When I showed him the drawing… the way he looked at it, Jace. He is not indifferent. He cares.”

“What drawing?”

“The one I made of the family,” she said absently, as she grabbed her bag and started fumbling inside.

She sucked in a sharp breath. The drawing wasn’t there. Peeking out in its stead, and folded out of the flyer of the Mortal Instruments concert, were origami faerie wings. The Fairchild family symbol.

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alj4890 · 3 years ago

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I have a few things I’m still working on. This weekend I had planned to write and post more, yet a family emergency completely destroyed that notion. Here’s some (longer than usual) peeks into what I’ve been creating in case anyone is interested. I will be posting the next chapter to And The I Left You within the next couple of days. That series will be wrapping up soon and I’ll be posting for these next ones along with requests and such. The three I’m sharing are the Dark TRR AU All Through the Night, The Thomas Hunt Worth the Wait What If AU to this series, and my first Open Heart series, Mixed Signals

Tagging those who might want to see what’s coming next 😉

@gkittylove99 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight @lodberg @twinkleallnight @amandablink @neotericthemis @mm2305 @sfb123 @iufilms @sophxwithers @flyawayboo @trappedinfanfiction

All Through the Night

Cordonia's Royal Palace, 2 a.m.

"Heeeerah!” Olivia threw her daggers as hard as she could while doing a roundhouse kick.

The blades struck into the chest, head, and groin of the makeshift dummy.

She brushed the few strands of red hair that had escaped her hair clip out of her eyes. With a great deal of scrutiny, she studied her dagger placement.

"The one to the head needs to go deeper."

She spun around with a start at that all too familiar voice.

"You're late." She folded her arms and tapped her foot.

Liam rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. Had to stop off for a quick bite."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "That's not funny."

"Not that kind of bite." He teased, holding up a styrofoam box.

"Oh." She blinked in surprise. "I forget that you enjoy normal food too."

He chuckled at that. "There are certain foods that I don't think any man could ever give up."

Olivia decided to ignore that as she wiped the sweat from her face and neck. "Now that you're here, let's get the formalities over with."

"Very well." Liam gestured toward her. "You may go first."

She sat down on a bench lining one side of the palace gym. She motioned for him to join her.

"Not you!" She hissed when she saw his all too familiar guard.

Drake Walker bristled at her tone. His brown eyes clashed with her green.

"Give us a moment, please." Liam asked him.

"Don't let your guard down." Drake warned. "Remember, she's a Nevarkis."

Olivia tensed. "Perhaps you should remember what happened the last time you said something like that."

She quirked one eyebrow at the man and felt a sense of glee when he winced in memory.

His hand automatically drifted to his side where one of her daggers had once struck true.

With a quick bow to Liam, Drake stepped back out into the hallway.

Liam shook his head. "Are you two ever going to get along?"

"Stop talking stupid." Olivia snapped. "Now then, as you know...I must have my revenge."

"I know." Liam folded his arms and leaned casually against a column.

She eyed him for any sign of hatred.

It drove her crazy how unvampiric he could be.

He seemed almost human.

He seemed...kind.

A vampire is nature's evil incarnate. You can never trust a Rhys.

Those words had been drummed into her skull by her parents and then her aunt after their deaths by Constantine's hand.

And yet...Liam had done the unthinkable.

He had actually been a friend to Olivia.

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

The night after her parents' funeral, five year old Olivia had been sitting alone before the fireplace, weeping over them.

Her aunt had left her to deal with her own grief and to plan the next attack upon Constantine.

As she searched for a tissue, Olivia jumped back with a shriek at the little blonde haired boy that held the Kleenex box.

His eyes were filled with unshed tears as he handed her a tissue.

"Who are you?" She asked, remembering that a Nevarkis must always be brave.

"I'm Liam." He explained. "I wanted to...I wanted to tell you I'm sorry about your parents." He sniffed and took a tissue for himself. "My mom died too."

Olivia blinked and took a cautious step forward. "Are you...are you a vampire?!"

He nodded.

She whipped out the dagger her mother had given her and rushed at him.

Liam moved faster than she could comprehend, gently keeping her hand above her head.

"Let go of me, monster!" She ordered. "You're why I'm all alone!"

"I didn't do anything." He told her, anguish taking over his handsome features. "I don't want to hurt you or anyone."

"Liar!" She snapped. "That's what you do. Lie and kill." Her tears ran faster down her cheeks. "And now you'll kill me."

"I won't." He promised. "I swear I won't hurt you." He ignored his own tears trickling down his cheeks. His blue eyes burned with resolve. "My mother made me promise never to hurt a human."

Olivia shook her head. It had to be lies. Isn't that what vampires and monsters do? Lull you into letting your guard down so that they could have an easy kill.

"Your father will pay for what he did." She said, hoping to see his true, evil nature. "He must die!"

"I know." Liam slowly released her and took a step back.

Olivia watched in surprise as he sat down before her fireplace and pulled out a silk blue ribbon from his pocket.

He motioned for her to join him.

She slowly lowered herself down, dagger poised in her little fist in case he made a move.

"May I have your hand, please?" He asked.

He patiently waited on her to decide whether or not to give it to him.

She tentatively placed her hand in his.

His lips turned up into a relieved smile as he wrapped the ribbon over their joined hands.

"What are you doing?" She asked, lowering her dagger.

"Making a bond." He explained. "I, Liam Rhys, Crown Prince of the Dark Kingdom, promise to never seek out revenge and to end all vendettas against the Nevarkis family." His blue eyes held her green. "Just as my mother, Queen Eleanor wanted me to."

Oliva's lips parted. "You mean it?"

"I do." Liam's voice held a great deal of sincerity. "I would rather walk into the sun than not do as she asked."

"Oh." Olivia sniffed. She could understand that kind of devotion.

"Do you," Liam's cheeks colored. "Do you think we can be allies?"

"A Nevarkis will never be friends with a monster." She repeated the rhetoric that she knew by heart.

"But," Liam's shoulders slumped. "We're not all bad."

"All monsters are bad at heart."

"I'm not." He pouted. "I don't want to be."

"You're so weird." She muttered.

"Am not." Liam grumbled. "I hope I'm not."

Olivia looked down at their hands still bound together. "I guess since you promised something, I should too."

He didn't bother to hide his surprise.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I, Olivia Nevarkis, The Crown Princess of Cordonia, swear that after I kill Constantine Rhys, I will lay down my weapons." Her brow furrowed. "I'll pick them back up though if you or any other monster tries anything."

Liam's smile grew. Before she could react, he tugged her into a quick hug.

"Now we can be friends!" He cheered.

"Friends?" She shook her head. "I'm a Nevarkis and you're a Rhys. We can't be friends."

"We will be." He vowed, jumping to his feet. "I have to go before Father finds out I've sneaked out. I'll try to come back in a few nights."

Olivia didn't have a chance to tell him whether or not she wanted him to. In the blink of an eye, he had jumped from her balcony and was already out the palace gates.

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

That had been the beginning of Liam's visits. Through the years, he had remained true to his promise. He did all he could to befriend her and never tried to sway her from seeking vengeance.

Olivia had once asked him how he could take her threat against his father so easily.

He had merely shrugged, explaining that he knew it was the way of things. His father had killed both her parents, while he had only lost one. He hoped she didn't since he did not wish to see his father or her dead.

Olivia had then told him again how weird he was, bringing another smile to his lips.

And now here he was again, calmly taking her promised vengeance well.

"So what business brings you here tonight?" She asked.

"Father thinks it is time I chose a wife." Liam responded. "I thought you should know that I will be spending more time in your kingdom to find one."

Olivia shot up off the bench. "What? But you promised to never hurt a human!"

"And I will keep true to that." He explained.

"But..." Olivia's brow furrowed. "You'll turn her into a vampire."

"Only if she wishes it." Liam explained. "I won't force her to make such a decision."

"I see." She began to pace while thinking. "You'll have vampire children."

"Only if she's a vampire." He reminded her. "Remember my brother."

Olivia paused. She had forgotten about Leo Rhys, The Great Disappointment of the Dark Kingdom. His mother had begged Constantine not to turn her. It had never been asked before, and in his mercy he had agreed. That was when they all discovered that a monster and a human could only produce a human child. In order for the heir to the Dark Kingdom to be a vampire, both parents had to be the same being.

"And you'll be fine having human children?" She asked. "If you're chosen bride refuses the Vampire's Kiss?"

"Of course." He responded.

"Lord, you're so weird." She muttered.

His smirk flashed. "Let's hope the woman I choose doesn't think so."

"Are there no women in your kingdom you can choose from?" She asked.

"I've looked." He shook his head. "It's hard to explain, but if one doesn't have an arranged marriage, then we must search until we see the one meant for us."

"And you somehow got weirder." She brushed her hands down her pants and held one out to him. "Good luck, I suppose."

"Thank you." He grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips. "I'll keep you updated on my progress."

"There's no need."

"Of course there is." He winked at her on his way out. "We're friends."

Her lips parted to once again remind him that they couldn't be. For some reason, she decided not to say it.

Liam had somehow wormed his way into her life and had become the closest friend she had ever had.

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

Worth the Wait (RCD/TRR What If AU)

Amanda grimaced once more over her swollen eyes. Thank goodness she had gone with waterproof eye makeup. At least she only looked swollen instead of a puffy eyed racoon.

Her stomach gurgled when Thomas opened the door.

She hid her face in her hands. "I'm sorry. I've not eaten since I threw up a muffin this morning."

He couldn't help but smile at her embarrassment. "You don't have to worry about what I think when that happens.

When she lifted her head, his eyes narrowed in concern.

"You've been crying." He gently took her face in his hands.

"Hormones." She wondered how she was able to say such a falsehood so easily.

His hands lingered, thumbs brushing her cheeks, then dropped to his sides. "I should forewarn you. Rachel and Stephen are here."

Amanda stepped back, nearly falling backwards off his front stoop.

Thomas caught her in his arms, turning them both until she was safely between him and a wall.

"Are you all right?" He could feel her heart thumping against his chest.

She nodded. "Just caught off guard." Biting her lip, she lifted her eyes to his. "Did you tell them about," she gestured toward her belly.

"I did."

"And?"

"And they are thrilled with the knowledge that they will have a niece or nephew before the year is through.”

Amanda finally asked the question that was really bothering her. “Do they, of course they must, but do they hate me too much for my,” she took a deep breath, “for ending things between us?”

If Thomas was to go with how his sister had not only readily jumped into planning a wedding for them as well as becoming angry over his not proposing to Amanda yet, he seriously doubted she held anything against his ex.

“They don’t hate you at all.” He kept an arm around her waist. “Come inside.”

Leaning a bit closer than necessary to him for comfort, she allowed him to lead her to his living room.

Rachel jumped up and hugged her, pushing her brother out of the way. “I’m so excited!”

Amanda laughed when Stephen thanked her for getting pregnant.

“Now Rach will stop pestering me about getting a puppy or kitten. All her time will be spent in preparation of becoming an aunt.”

“We will get one of those if my niece or nephew wants one.” Rachel snapped at him.

She ignored his teasing grin and focused on Amanda. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” She lied.

“She suffers with severe morning sickness.” Thomas corrected.

Rachel’s brow furrowed. “Who is taking care of you?”

“Me.” Amanda said with a laugh that wasn’t quite sincere. “Servants, occasionally my friends, and of course Thomas when we are together.”

Rachel glared at her brother. “She needs help all the time.”

He glared back, knowing she was heavily hinting that they should get married.

“I’ll be fine. Hopefully by my next appointment it will have lessened.” Amanda said, wondering at their sudden irritation.

“And if it doesn’t?” Rachel continued to stare Thomas down.

“Then I’ll do what I have been doing.” Amanda shrugged. “I really don’t have much of a choice in the matter.”

She moved away from them to sit down.

“Some people have a choice.” Rachel muttered where only Thomas could hear.

Ignoring her, he asked Amanda what she felt like eating.

“I’m not sure. This baby and I have very different views on what I should eat." She tried to joke.

He had to stop himself from brushing her hair back from her face. That lopsided grin of hers had a way of making him feel the need to comfort her.

"I was thinking of taking you to The Palm for dinner."

Her surprise made him smile. It used to be one of their favorite places to eat. Thomas hadn't been there since they broke up. For some reason, he had gone ahead and made a reservation for them.

"The Palm?" Rachel leaned forward. "What kind of food do they have."

"Italian." Amanda smiled at him. "I have had a craving for tomatoes recently."

"Then hopefully you'll be able to enjoy a meal for a change."

"We'll go to the guest house and get cleaned up." Rachel tugged Stephen up out of his chair. "What time should we be ready?"

"You have thirty minutes." Thomas warned.

"Thirty?!" Rachel dashed out.

Stephen chuckled. "How long do we really have?"

"Forty-five minutes." Thomas replied. "But I know my sister and if i say forty-five, she'll take an hour or more."

Stephen snorted in amusement. "Yes, she will."

Once they were alone, Thomas sat down across from Amanda.

"The Palm." Her smile dimmed some over the memories of romantic evenings spent at that particular establishment. "I can't remember the last time we had dinner there."

"November." Thomas fought squirming when she looked up in surprise once more.

"I'm looking forward to it." Amanda said to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen between him.

"So am I." He got up to get something to drink. He offered to get her something just to have something to do.

He could feel her eyes following him out of his living room. When he was out of eyesight he pinched the bridge of his nose. He still didn't know if he could risk his heart again. He knew she was leaving soon and that things between them were up in the air.

And he was wanting to settle once more into how they once were.

But then that would bring up whether or not they should go ahead and marry.

Should we? If it doesn't work out, how much more will it hurt to walk away from her and our child? To break the life I once dreamed of having with her...should I really jump into it without seeing if it's worth the chance?

He didn't know. He knew his fear was keeping him from so much. Yet...hadn't his fear kept him from horrible decisions in the past?

Or had it kept him from something great?

He prepared her a glass of ginger ale and brought it to her.

He grasped on the topic of what she planned to do once back in Cordonia while he debated on what to do.

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

Mixed Signals (Open Heart AU) exert

A few minutes later, Bryce motioned for her to follow him to the cafeteria. It was for the most part empty, save for a couple of doctors grabbing a late lunch.

"You want anything?" He asked.

"No thanks." She sat down at a table while he went to get a snack.

He grinned as he sat down across from her. "Here." He pushed a bag of peanuts toward her. "You should eat something."

Her nose wrinkled. "I haven't really got my appetite back yet."

She noticed the concern in his eyes so like her roommates' and knew she would have to force down some of it just to make it stop.

"So?" She tried not to gag on what once was her favorite go to snack. "How have you been?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" He bit into a burger. "I mean," he said between bites, "of the two of us, you've been the patient."

"Yeah." She slumped some in her seat. "I wasn't too sick to talk on the phone though." Her eyes narrowed somewhat on his. "Or have visitors."

Bryce winced. "Sorry about that, Chris. I guess I didn't know what to say or do?"

"Really?" Her eyes narrowed more.

How often had she stressed to him within the past year that he was important to her, that she wanted to be with him. Then when he wouldn't say he wanted that too and reverted back to calling her a friend, she gave in to trying something with Ethan.

Only for both men to keep her on a yoyo string to pull back and forth whenever they needed her.

What do I see in them to keep swallowing my pride and allowing them to basically use me for sex whenever they want?

Chris was fed up. The longer Bryce stammered about his busy schedule and not wanting to disturb her rest, the more she wanted to chunk the peanuts at his stupid, much too handsome face.

She didn't even want the damn things. Might as well use them as a quick release to her frustration.

Her fingers curled around the bag. Her bicep tightened in preparation to throw them, when Sienna walked up.

Her friend's excited hug and squeals of seeing her at work again were what saved Bryce's overly confident face.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming back?!" Sienna sat down next to her. "I would have made celebration pancakes this morning!"

Chris couldn't stop from smiling. She could always depend on Sienna's sweetness to boost her mood.

"I didn't really decide until you had left for work. Then Farley came by to check on me and he wasn't feeling too good..."

She continued to tell her about his diagnosis of lime disease.

"Hate to break this up, but I have to get ready for surgery." Bryce smiled at them both. "Take it easy, Valentine. I don't want to have to operate on you next."

Chris bit back a bitter retort that he better hope she needed surgery. It would be his only chance to catch her naked again.

"Meet us at Donahue's later!" Sienna shouted. "We will celebrate Chris being back."

"There's no need." Chris began.

"Yes, there is!" Sienna squeezed another hug out of her. "My best friend is back with us and I'm over the moon about it!"

Bryce smirked at her. "She's right. We have to celebrate our friend's return."

Our friend. Chris despised the word, friend. Why did she keep placing her hope on him seeing her as something more than a mere friend?

And to make things worse, Ethan walked past.

"Dr. Ramsey!" Sienna called out before Chris could stop her. "Come have a drink with us tonight in honor of Chris's return!"

Ethan hesitated. That action nearly earned him peanuts in his much too handsome face too.

Gawd, I hate that look. The sad, yearning eyes. The slight frown. Man up and either say you want to date me or leave me alone for good! This back and forth is killing me worse than the poison did.

"Where at?" Ethan finally asked.

"Donahue's." Sienna beamed when he said he would try and stop by on his way home.

Chris mumbled a goodbye as Bryce left and Ethan headed off to find something to eat.

"Who else should we invite? I know Rafe is still too sick to get out." Sienna tapped her fingers on the table while scrolling through her contacts. "We can invite the rest of the diagnostic team and Ines and--"

"I'll send an invite to Tobias." Chris decided.

"Tobias? Who's...oh!" Sienna's eyes widened. "Dr. Carrick, right?"

"Yeah." Chris sent a text to him before she could think too much about it. "He did rush over with Aurora to try and save my life."

"I thought he was the enemy?" Sienna whispered while her eyes cut to Ethan. "Don't they have bad blood between them?"

"Something like that." Chris grumbled. "They can get over it."

Her phone vibrated with Tobias's response.

You want me to come deep into Edenbrook territory for a drink?

She snorted while answering.

Too scared, huh? And here I was longing for your company.

Well hell, Chris. I've never been able to refuse someone longing for my company. I'll be there. Just make sure no one sticks a scalpel in my back.

Don't worry. I'll protect you.

My hero.

Sienna leaned over, her eyes growing larger with each of their responses.

"Oh my gosh! You like Tobias!"

Chris's smile disappeared. "I don't hate him. But like like him? No."

"You're flirting in your texts!" Sienna giggled. "That is so cute. I haven't see you like this since our first year with--" she clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Uh huh." Chris pushed her chair back. "Anyway, I'll see you after work." She patted her friend's shoulder as she walked away. "Don't worry, I'm not upset with you over the name you almost said."

"Yeah, but." Sienna chased after her. "There is also another person who is interested in you."

"If you mean the one I think, then no. He made it perfectly clear this morning that we can't."

"No!" Sienna wrapped a comforting arm around Chris. "Why not?"

"He's still my boss." Chris mumbled. "And he won't abuse that. No matter how often he gives in to temptation."

"I think he's in love with you." Sienna whispered.

"Not enough to be with me." Chris grumbled.

#choices the royal romance #choices red carpet diaries #choices open heart #sneak peek #upcoming series #choices fanfiction #rcd thomas hunt #trr liam #oh ethan ramsey #oh bryce lahela #oh tobias carrick

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pinkykitten · 4 years ago

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the princess and the villager

- anonymous what up oreostars, if this isn't too specific i was wondering if u could write a one-shot about sokka (atla) noticing he's in love with reader when he sees her playing around with some kids and maybe confessing? i love a fluff lmao

pairing: sokka x female! reader words: 1,691 genre: fluff, comedy, one-shot, romance, requested

a/n: i hope this is what u meant lol, he has been my childhood crush so this ignited a flame again hehe, also pls check out my oc of atla named jia.

“And the beautiful princess was caught by an ugly witch. Since the princess was the most stunning girl in all the land, the witch wanted that beauty for herself. She was going to cook the girl in a stew and eat her all up.”

They all gasped.

“But the villager boy wanted to save the princess so he went after her. He saved the princess and they lived happily ever after. What she doesn’t know is the princess saved the villager boy when she said I do,” Sokka smiled wide as he looked in the distance to see you helping the older folks fish. You were his princess and he was your villager boy. Seeing you at his home made him feel the butterflies in his stomach and his cheeks grow hot. He had always had a crush on you ever since he said hi. He felt like you were the only one that understood him and made him feel like he could do anything. He trusted you with everything.

In the tent, all the children circled around Sokka as he told his fairytales. It was their favorite time to listen to princesses and princes and dream in their tiny, wild, minds their imaginations. A child raised her hand. Curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

“Yes?”

With some teeth missing, the little girl said, “Sokka, who is that princess you’re talking about?”

Sokka stumbled over his words. Why was her nervous about this question this little brat asked? It was only a child!

“That’s because Sokka has a crush,” one boy stuck his tongue out, disgusted. The little girl chuckled, twisting her hair, in love with the romance.

“No I don’t,” Sokka argued back to a short 5 year old. He was ready to lay hands on a child. “It’s just a story, that’s it.” He stomped his foot.

“Sure,” the little boy rolled his eyes. “I might have been born at night but not last night.”

Sokka eyed him up and down, “you sure about that.”

“Hey guys! What’s going on over here?” You shook from the cold, blowing hot air into your hands.

The little boy was about to say something but Sokka covered his mouth with a hard slap. His voice was muffled by Sokka’s glove as Sokka chuckled nervously. “The kids were just leaving. These little joy’s.” He gritted his teeth, eyeing the kids. “They are getting a little tired, they may need to take naps.”

All the kids whined and complained. “Well, I have an idea. I was going to say how about I teach the kids how to make the bracelets with those colorful beads. I think they would really like it.”

The kids fist bumped and cheered. “I don’t know, they might eat the beads,” Sokka replied.

Everyone paused and glared at Sokka.

“I think they’ll be fine,” you kneeled down in the snow, in front of the little girl. “What do you think?”

The little girl giggled, “I want to do blue because that’s the princess favorite color.”

Sokka almost shouted at the kid but you gave him a questioning look, “what princess? What is she talking about?”

Sokka knew your favorite color was blue and he had told the kids that. I guess they figured out that you were his crush. He needed to think again whenever he spilled the beans about his love for you. “I don’t know,” Sokka pushed the kids out of the tent. “These kids I think have been eating too much fish.”

“You kids go on ahead to the tent, I’ll be with you all in a second,” you warmly smiled. You pulled on Sokka’s sleeve and Sokka felt he was about to melt all the snow there from his body heat. “What’s up with you? You seem so squirmy today.”

“It’s nothing, might be I’m constipated.” Sokka blinked wildly. Why did he say that? He needed to learn to shut his mouth and not say everything that came at the top of his head.

Suddenly, you bent over, laughing hysterically at his reply. “Sokka I love you so much.” You patted his shoulder.

Sokka gave a stupid, love-struck grin. It sucked though that it was a I love you but in the friend zone.

As your beautiful e/c eyes looked into Sokka’s, Sokka couldn’t help but feel such an overwhelming amount of love for you. You were a little wet from the snow and waves and seeing you in that state made Sokka question how could you get even more beautiful. It was something impossible but you made it possible. He compared you to a flower in at all times a flower was beautiful so were you. He chuckled as he saw sprinkles of snow laying atop your head and nose. How could you be so cute?! Sokka pulled you closer and flicked the snow off your head and rubbed it lightly off your nose. Your eyes landed to where his hand was at, cross-eyed, unknown to you. Sokka smiled seeing how adorable you were. You were like his little snow angel. “You got some snow on you.” He brushed it off and tickled your nose. You hated your nose but to Sokka it was perfect. “There we go,” he said as he got the rest off.

You played with your fingers, trying to look everywhere else except at him. “Thank you.” Your body wiggled from the cold air and you wrapped your arms around your body to keep you warm. “It’s so chilly.”

“Here, I got you,” Sokka brought you to him and embraced you into his warmth. “Is this better?”

You hummed lightly at how soft his furs were and the warmth that held onto you. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling. He smelled so heavenly even though Katara can argue with that. She always said how he smelled like he hadn’t taken a shower in years but to you he had his own distinct smell that comforted you.

“Um Y/N, are we going to do the bracelets?” One child came in, grossed out by your interaction.

Startled, you kicked Sokka away and ran to the tent, shouting on your way, “who’s ready kids!”

Sokka fell back onto the snow, rubbing his behind.

The kid laughed, “she got you good.”

“Oh that’s lovely sweetheart,” you praised the young girl as she added different shades of blue to her bracelet. It was such a blessing to you to interact with all the children. They made you laugh, smile, act and think like a kid. You felt you could do anything when you were with them.

“H-how about mine?” One of the kids lifted his up. “It’s all the colors of poop.”

“Oh,” you had a loss for words. “How pretty.”

A child raised his hand in the air.

“Yes?”

“I gotta go pee.”

“Oh dear,” you couldn’t help but chuckle. What you didn’t know was far away Sokka couldn’t help but see how you were with the children. He imagined himself if you and him were together. You would be the best mother ever and he day dreamed you with his children and how amazing that life would be. He felt he would be the luckiest guy on earth. How understanding you were with these children and patient made him think about his mother. Your elegance, grace, beauty, and how loving you were reminded him of his mother. He felt if his mother were here right now, she would be proud of him. Seeing you play with the kids and make them smile made him love you even more, if that was possible. He knew what he had to do that day, he just had to do it in a certain, special way.

Sokka saw you stood up and take one of the kids away, probably he had to go pee. Now was his chance. Sokka sprinted to the kids tent and sat with them.

“What are you doing Sokka?”

“Alright kids I’m gonna say this once and only once. I want to ask Y/N to be my girlfriend.”

The little girl gasped, “you are going to confess your love to Y/N?”

“Actually, yes, wow you’re good. I need you’re guys help though. Think you can help me?”

The little girl smirked and crossed her arms, “we thought you’d never ask.”

“I feel better.” The boy came running to you.

“You are too much,” you patted his shoulder as you two made it back to the tent. As you rounded the corner everyone yelled out surprise.

“What?” They gave you a jump scare. Sokka was standing in the middle of the group of kids. His smile was wide and you looked above him to see a banger with black paint on it. You looked to see that the children must of made this because they had black paint all over them. The little girl ran to you and handed you the bracelet. Your eyes made their way to what it said on the banner and you read it out loud, “Y/N,” the children all started trying to stifle their cute giggles. “I love you with all my heart, will you go on a date with me?”

Your mouth dropped open, shocked. You made your way to Sokka, grabbing his arms. “Did you make this?”

Sokka put his forehead against yours, “yeah. You’re my girl. I can’t help it, I’d fallen in love with you. You’re so amazing and you’ve made me see how incredible this world can be. When I’m with you, I feel like I can do anything. I am such an idiot for not asking you this earlier but will you be my girlfriend Y/N-” Sokka was cut short because you pulled his furs to you, joining your lips with his. You kissed him passionately, so much that his leg lifted up full of bliss.

“So is that a yes?” He had on a goofy grin.

You kissed his forehead, “absolutely.”

All the kids groaned, some gagged, the little girl fawned at the love she saw.

“Wait,” the pee pee boy stopped the celebration. “So you’re saying this whole surprise wasn’t for me?”

a/n: that kid is so me omg, he is such a mood. reading other ppls fanfics tho inspire me and help me to not get writers block so i got some inspiration from my recent readings.

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ariel-seagull-wings · 3 years ago

Text

FICTIONAL CHARACTER ASK: THE WICKED QUEEN (FROM SNOW WHITE)

TAGGED BY: @princesssarisa

@sunlit-music @mademoiselle-princesse @superkingofpriderock @amalthea9 @astrangechoiceoffavourites @lieutenant-hel-odinsdottir

@parxsisburnixg

Favorite thing about them: On one hand, i give all my respect to a lady that has knowledge of alchemy and sorcery.

Least favorite thing about them: On the other hand, she could use that knowledge to help people in need and become a good ruler instead of using it to try murdering a child.

Three things i have in common with them:

I like the combination of red, black and purple.

I believe that poison is indeed an elegant, discreet and effective way of killing.

I am a sorcery enthusiast.

Three things i don’t have in common with them:

I am not rich royalty.

I am too rushed to check my appearance in the mirror for so long.

I would have given up killing Snow White in the first try.

Favorite line:

Nothing beats the iconic:

“Magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all”?

brOTP: The Spectrum of the Magic Mirror is probably the only character she trusts enough to call it a friend.

OTP: Also the Spectrum of the Magic Mirror, the character to whom the Queen has the longest and deepest connection and is the one being that understands that her beauty is her greatest love.

nOTP: The Huntsman, Snow White, The Prince or any of the Seven Dwarfs.

Random Headcanon: Usually, when academics and folklorists analyze paralells between the myth of Eros and Psyche, they focus on the tales of the ‘Animal Groom Cicle’. Wich is a good, interesting focus, but i also think that this greek myth has paralells with the tale of Snow White, particularly in how the antagonism of the Wicked Queen against Snow White mirrors Aphrodite’s antagonism against Psyche for the title of The Most Beautifull, despite the fact that neither Snow White or Psyche wanted to bee seen as The Most Beautifull and this description of them was beyond their control. Another paralell between the Wicked Queen and Aphrodite is the apple iconography: Aphrodite received the title of Most Beautifull of the Goddesses when Paris gaved her the Golden Apple that was left by Eris, the Goddess of Discord. Another inspiration for the Wicked Queen could have been the historical figure of the hungarian Countess Elizabeth Báthory (1560-1614), who was condenmned to die in prison after being acused of kidnaping and cruelly murdering several young girls, and whom urban legends telled that she would bathe in the blood of those young girls to forever retain her youth and beauty.

Unpopular Opinion:

1º Similar to what @princesssarisa sayed about Cinderella’s Prince, you don’t need to make the Wicked Queen secretly a heroine and Snow White secretly evil to write a deconstrution of the fairy tale. Just write them as having started with flaws and qualities, and explore how a society that only values woman for their beauty and constantly turns them against each other sowered their relationship, turning the Queen evil in the proccess.

2º Some people consider her desire of being considered The Most Beautifull a weak motivation. But considering how the Dictatorship of Beauty Padrons is a real problem, that affects both man and woman in different ways, making people do horrible danmage against themselves and others in the name of an impossible ideal of “perfection”, i consider that the motivation of Beauty makes a villain very palpably treatening, specially living in a post World War II world where we know that Hitler and his followers destroyed works of modern art because they considerated it “degenerate” and tortured and killed millions of people in search of obtaining the “ideal blonde, blue eyed, tall, strong, muscled Arian man”. Considering that the origin of the most famous version of Snow White is Germany, i wonder how the Wicked Queen resonates with german people because of those paralells nowadays.

Song i associate with them:

Las Brujas, from the El Chapulin Colorado parody episode

youtube

Favorite picture of them:

This postcard by an unknown artist

These 1913 american illustrations

This illustration by Otto Kubel

This illustration by Katharine Cameron

This illustration by A H Watson

This illustration by Mauser Lichtil

This illustration by Ludvik Glazer

This illustrations by Anastassija Archipowa

This illustrations by Trina Schart Hyman

This illustrations by P J Lynch

Patricia Medina in Snow White and the Three Stooges

Maria Antonieta de las Nieves and Angelines Fernandes in the El Chapulin Colorado parody episode

Vanessa Redgrave in Faery Tale Theater

Diana Rigg in Canon Movie Tales

Gudrun Landgrebe in the 1992 german film adaptation

Sigourney Weaver in Snow White: A Tale of Terror

Miranda Richardson and Vera Farmiga in Hallmark’s Snow White: Fairest of them All

Sonja Kirchberger in Grimm’s Finest Fairy Tales

The 1937 Disney Animated Film Version

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extraordinarilyextreme · 3 years ago

Text

Crown Prince Li Kaiqing, Chen Ji, and Fushui

MAJOR spoilers for 《骊歌行》 Court Lady (2021)!!! This is just me blabbing about my feelings.

so we all knew that Crown Prince (CP) and Chen Ji (CJ) were gonna be BE cuz they have historical prototypes. after Chengxin was executed, Li Chengqian grieved for a long time, refusing to attend court and also building a shrine for him in the palaces.

well, even with that knowledge, i still cried like a little baby at the end of the drama. there’s not a single un-sad 感情线 in this entire show, but i really do think that the mess of these three is tragic.

before we dive into the mess that i’ve become, a huge round of applause to Li Zefeng for his amazing portrayal of the Crown Prince—the good-intentioned, sort of foolish boy that we first meet and then later the wide-eyed, paranoid, remorseless man. and of course similar props to Wang Yizhe’s two roles of sweet Chen Ji and scheming Fushui (and Sun Langlang for voicing them! Wang Zhi’s VA!).

so as i’ve already said, CP is really a whole different person after CJ dies. and the contrast between CJ and Fushui (FS) is very plainly evident: CJ dressed in pale white-blue, FS mostly in grey-black; CJ kept his hair loose, FS wears a bun (or hat, when he rises thru the ranks); CJ is a lowly palace entertainer, FS is well-trained in combat and medicine (and ends up as Senior Imperial Physician, somehow); CJ was terrible at weiqi, FS is good at weiqi but pretends to be bad at it. CJ was targeted and subjected to rumors, but no one dared question CP’s relationship with FS—because CP was in so much grief after CJ died, how could anyone bear to do that to CP again? even though FS was absolutely the one that everyone should have removed from CP’s side immediately…

when CP and CJ first meet in episode 7, CP is kind of a typical princely character: he’s kinda entitled, the world is his, his future is bright… and i firmly believe he 一见钟情 because while CJ still treated him with courtesy and respect, it’s obvious that CJ didn’t expect or want anything from him. and this continues in episode 9, when CP is trying to clear his thoughts by the riverside and runs into CJ who is fishing: CP brattishly orders CJ to stay and keep him company, and CJ is honestly more confused than anything as to why the freaking Crown Prince of the country wants to spend the whole goddamn day here. of course, it’s because CJ represents a freedom for CP: here, the Emperor won’t compare him to Prince Zhou or Prince Han; here, the Empress won’t admonish him over and over again; here, there’s no scheming advisors who try to curry favor with him. here, as CP tells CJ to use, it’s just “you and I” without care for rank or formalities.

(but also the death flag in episode 9 was atrociously obvious LOL with CP promising “I will make you a grave” to CJ’s absolute terror. on-the-nose. still made me sad later on, so that’s that i guess. in any case, the episode ends with a 定情信物 whereupon CP gives a jade from his belt to CJ.)

CP watches CJ perform (as he is an entertainer from Prince Han’s mansion) for the first time in episode 10, and we see it again in episode 12, episode 16, and episode 17. based off 《三国演义》Romance of the Three Kingdoms, the lyrics are as follows:

大丈夫只患功名不立 A great man should only worry about not gaining fame and honor/

何患无妻 Why worry over not having a wife/

舍生忘死报恩住 Leaving behind life and death to repay my Lord/

忠肝义胆待友朋 Treat my friends with righteous loyalty/

我要做有血性的英雄 I want to be a hot-blooded hero/

为义而生 To live for righteousness (loyalty)/

为义而死 To die for righteousness (loyalty)

CJ plays the main role of Zhao Zilong (Zhao Yun), and he helpfully compares the story to a game of weiqi in episode 16.

“A gambit [sacrificing insignificant pieces to protect the significant ones] is what Zhao Zilong did in the Battle of Changban. In order for Zhao Zilong to save A Dou, he couldn’t save Madam Gan. So, Madam Gan committed suicide. Isn’t Madam Gan a gambit?”

to which CP responds: “Thank goodness you are Zhao Zilong, and not Madam Gan.”

CJ: “The Crown Prince regards me as his soulmate [知己]. Even if in the future, the Crown Prince were to sacrifice me as a gambit, I would be willing.”

CP: “What are you saying? You and I are friends. No matter what happens in the future, I will never treat you as a sacrificial gambit.”

(so, like, death flags everywhere! 知己-mention! and, c’mon, i think for CP’s consort to be jealous/insecure is a little bit justified considering the amount of times CP has CJ perform this piece with a line like “Why worry over not having a wife”.)

backing up for just a moment before everything goes to shit, other notable events are CP finding out his wife is pregnant in episode 13 (but he spends the day fishing and then cooking the fish with CJ at the riverside, and they walk off with arms draped around each other’s shoulders), CJ hurting his leg after climbing a cliffside to pick red flowers after CP mentioned his wife loves the color red most in episode 14, and finally CP leading a blindfolded CJ to a new house just for him to tick off another romance-y trope in episode 15.

CP: “Didn’t you say you didn’t have a home? So I bought you this little estate. When you fall in love someday, have children, and have a great career, this will be your home.”

(the point is they’re both still kind of in a honeymoon phase right now, tho it ends quickly in episode 16 when our FL Fu Rou warns CJ against being so close to CP—but CP is a little bit too idealistic right now, a little bit too stuck in his blissful fantasy, a little bit foolish. foolish, and incompetent, and unable to protect the people he loves bc he unwittingly endangered them to begin with.)

of course, things come to a head in episode 17 when CP’s wife tells her sister about CJ, leading to the Emperor eventually finding out. but while that’s happening, CP goes to see CJ at the estate he bought for him.

CP: In the future, I won’t come here anymore. Therefore, let’s put aside differences for today and be friends like we used to. We will never have those kinds of days again.

CJ confesses he’s going to leave Chang’an: I want to learn swordsmanship well, and become a wandering hero, feeling at home wherever I am. When the Crown Prince becomes Emperor in the future, I can help you take care of bad guys along my journey out there. This will be my way of helping the Crown Prince to keep the empire stable.

CP gives his dagger to CJ: This is not a reward, but a gift for my friend who is about to leave. In the future, whenever you look at it, it will be like looking at me.

CJ: A gift from my soulmate. Chen Ji will definitely take good care of it.

(for ppl who’ve watched Qing Ya Ji, the parallel to Zhongxing and Fangyue here killed me. but there’s also a parallel within the show itself near the end when Fu Rou gives the Emperor a collection of scrolls and explains that the late Empress hoped that he would treat her writings like he were seeing her—one of Court Lady’s many confirmations that CP and CJ should be read as a romantically by paralleling it to visible, het relationships. ALSO, CP has CJ perform Zhao Zilong again right after this conversation, like a last nail in the coffin.)

so the Emperor finds out in episode 18 and angrily orders CP to kill CJ himself, lest he be stripped of rank. Fu Rou warns CJ, but he refuses to escape.

If I run away, the Crown Prince will not be able to fulfill the Emperor’s order—what would happen to the Crown Prince? […] Life and death are not the most important things; the most important thing is to stay true to yourself.

and so CJ unsheathes the dagger CP gave him.

The Crown Prince regards Chen Ji as his soulmate, Chen Ji also regards the Crown Prince as his soulmate. ‘A man of service dies for the one who knows him.’ (An upright man can die for his soulmate.)

CJ quotes “士为知己者死” from Sima Qian’s 《史記·刺客列傳》Records of the Grand Historian, tho if you’ve watched Winter Begonia, it should probably also look familiar.

CP pushes aside the soldiers who’ve accompanied him on the journey to CJ’s home, but it’s too late: CJ took his own life, using the weapon CP gave him, in order to protect CP.

the chorus of Lu Hu’s 《万里》 Ten Thousand Li plays as CP staggers toward CJ’s lifeless body.

呼吸，想着你, When I breathe, I think of you

在梦里，在心里, In my dreams, in my heart

怪完相遇，怪自己, After I’ve finished blaming that we encountered each other, I blame myself

别离，痛彻心扉！Farewell, my heart is broken

(this is a song from the OST we hear multiple times with the other couples in the drama—and we also see many couples by the same river that CP and CJ would fish together by. i think, like, all the couples associated with this song except our main one have a BE…)

in CP’s immense grief, he has the weiqi pieces from his last game with CJ glued to the board, never to be moved again, and he has the flowerbed outside flattened. we get our callback to episode 9: “Chen Ji has no family. I promised him that if he died, I would make him a grave.”

CP doesn’t meet FS until episode 37, but what the Emperor says in episode 19 about Chen Ji is what really makes the whole thing a tragedy.

You must be cautious when choosing friends. He would only have misguided you.

and that’s the thing, the Emperor isn’t wrong!!! it ultimately truly is the Crown Prince’s love for Chen Ji that destroys him. his love for Chen Ji ruins him, ruins the imperial family and threatens the dynasty as a whole. because when Fushui shows up, a man who shares Chen Ji’s face, the Crown Prince trusts him unconditionally—it’s the Crown Prince’s desperation to see any small part of Chen Ji again that leaves him vulnerable to FS’s manipulation: CP forgets who he truly is. because how could a man who looks like Chen Ji ever betray him?

CP is thrown from his horse in episode 37, striking his head upon a rock.

he wonders: Chen Ji, have I also died? Did you come here just to pick me up?

(but of course it’s FS, who was actually going to kill him but the soldiers arrived too quickly.) they meet officially in episode 38.

CP: I thought I was going to die. Dimly, I felt someone approach me—he wanted to save me. I originally thought it was Chen Ji who couldn’t bear for me to die, so his spirit appeared. I didn’t expect that it was you.

FS remarks that CP has brought up “Chen Ji” several times already; immediately, he understands that this is a weakness to exploit.

CP basically throws a temper tantrum in episode 39 when he discovers he will have a permanent limp from now on. (idk if it was an intentional parallel, but CJ also had a limp after falling from the cliffside in episode 14.) FS is the only person that CP allows to approach him, and FS gets him to eat grilled fish (which is apparently CP’s favorite food—how much of the people we love do we carry with us?)

FS acts innocent: I really am bad at lying; as soon as I lie, you see right through me.

it’s everything CP wants to hear.

CP tells him: When I fell off my horse, and was on my last breath, you came to my side and encouraged me to continue living. I’m now crippled and in despair, but you talked sense into me to eat grilled fish. Everything that has happened—if it were Chen Ji, he would also have talked sense into me, encouraged me. Sometimes, I feel that you are Chen Ji, just with a different face.

(obviously it’s the same face for us tho cuz he’s played by the same guy. but anyway, when FS comes clean about everything in episode 51, he mimics the words CP says here.

I am not Chen Ji. I, Yang Fushui, came to your side to find an opportunity to take revenge.)

back to episode 39, FS says he doesn’t want to be “another Chen Ji” because he doesn’t want to die so young—he’s afraid of death.

CP: I guarantee you that I won’t let anyone harm you. What happened to Chen Ji will never happen to you.

(and it’s true! FS gets away with so much goddamn shit because CP’s wife doesn’t dare criticize FS, and even the Emperor doesn’t after knowing what it’s like to see his son in such heavy grief. CP’s wife thinks this is her chance at making amends; she felt real remorse after CJ died, and honestly that line from It’s Quiet Uptown sums it up best: “If I could trade his life for mine/He'd be standing here right now/And you would smile and that would be enough.” a shame, of course, that CP was FS’s freaking main target. nobody wants to repeat the tragedy of Chen Ji, so no one questions Fushui.)

but, like, FS isn’t truly even that subtle—it’s just that CP is so blinded by his love for CJ. from episode 46:

CP: I have taught you for so long, but you’re still terrible at playing.

FS: I am doing it on purpose. Only if I play poorly, will the Crown Prince be willing to continue teaching me.”

CP: Even you put on an act before me? […] You are the person I trust the most. Don’t lie to me.

(太子，你醒醒吧!)

so FS successfully sows discord between CP and his brother Prince Han; the Empress passes away (always sickly, but her illness was very much exacerbated upon seeing her beloved sons turn on each other); CP’s wife kills her own sister in what she believes is a beneficial political move for CP; Prince Han’s wife is wrongfully executed; Sheng Chujun is killed and silenced too after he discovers FS’s plans. CP stages a coup against Prince Han. (the man who looks like Chen Ji must only want the best for him, right?) FS gets away with everything and goes to visit CP in prison in episode 51.

AND HERE! HERE! FS is supposed to kill CP; that’s been his goal from the very beginning. CP hasn’t eaten for days in the prison, but FS shows up with a grilled fish and CP eats without a second thought that it could be poisoned.

but. FS has been at CP’s side for so long now. he’s orchestrated CP to lose everything. there is nothing left that CP could give to him but the mere fact that he’s still breathing.

in episode 49, FS poisons Lian Yan’er and Yan Zifang is obviously upset on behalf of blissfully ignorant, head-over-heels Ma Haihu.

FS: I will kill whoever gets in my way.

YZF: What about someone you love? If it was someone you loved, you would be just as ruthless, right?

FS: It is human nature to be greedy and selfish. Where does love come into play? This question—you’ve asked the wrong person.

(but FS’s expression changes. someone he loves? he’s startled, he looks afraid.)

FS ruined CP’s life; and at the same time, gave CP reason to live again. CP started playing weiqi again, his relationship with his wife improved; he started smiling again. there was a passionate fire to him that he never had before (this was his second chance to do everything right, to protect the people he loves!)... the kindling, unfortunately, was his trust in Prince Han and his parents. from episode 39, FS comes in and sits down next to CP after CP trashes his room during his tantrum.

CP: Do you know why I treat you differently from other people?

FS: Because I remind Your Highness of your friend who already passed away—Chen Ji?

CP never stopped loving CJ; he loved Fushui, because he never stopped treating him as Chen Ji. after the failed coup against Prince Han, CP smiles in prison in episode 51 when FS visits him.

CP: It was fate who made us each other's soulmate [知己]. [...] If you can continue living well, I wish that you live your life to the fullest, with both smiles and tears.

how can Fushui bear to take the Crown Prince’s life when he’s received nothing but unwavering trust from him? when he explains who he truly is, when he calls CP foolish for trusting the wrong person, FS is on the brink of tears. his mouth trembles, his breaths shake. when the poison begins to take effect, and CP agonizingly reaches for him, FS takes his hand—just as CP gripped CJ’s lifeless hand so long ago, just as CP reached out to the person he thought was CJ when he fell from his horse. FS takes his hand, sobs, and gives him the antidote.

(Consort Yan’s eunuch is, of course, outraged.

Yu He: If you can’t bear to kill him, then I will!

Fushui: I forbid you. [...] He has nothing left to lose. I forbid you from killing him.)

so, we have the Crown Prince, ruined by his love for Chen Ji—and Fushui, who both took and freely gave the Crown Prince’s life back to him. it’s a love story; it has always been a love story.

and finally, FS gets Ma Haihu killed in episode 53. he picks up the comb MHH carved for Lian Yan’er (a 定情信物!), and when he speaks, ends up telling the story of CP and CJ as well.

There was a woman who sacrificed her life for your bright future. You only needed to enjoy it, yet you took the road of self-destruction.

and then he remembers what CP said to him in the prison in episode 51.

CP: If, in this world, fate truly exists, then so do the hearts of men.

FS remarks now: If you have a heart, you will be easily hurt, or even lose your life.

heartless Fushui, who kills without batting an eye, who nearly upturned the entire Tang dynasty, who doesn’t know of love. in the end, he couldn’t bear to end the Crown Prince’s life.

so, yeah. these three broke my heart. i really wonder what Chen Ji would say to the Crown Prince when they see each other again at last in the afterlife. what the Crown Prince would say to Chen Ji. how violent love can be. what it means to live in someone’s memory. or maybe they would return to the river and spend a long day fishing together again.

#court lady #骊歌行 #cdrama ramblings

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prettyinlimegreenboots · 4 years ago

Note

“You were the one that left all those notes for me?”

Minor cussing.

Back in High School

For the last two weeks, he has been finding colorful envelopes in his locker, under his windshield wipers, in his backpack, and even teachers have given him some. They were random messages - quotes, inspirational messaging, wishing him a good day, and everything in between. There was even a recipe for homemade lasagna in one of the notes. He started to look forward to getting the notes and seeing what the message of the day would be.

Opening his locker, a salmon colored envelope fell out and landed at his feet. “You still getting those?”

“Yea.” Race picked it up and grinned at Jack.

“Any idea who Prince Charming could be?” He asked leaning against the lockers, watching his brother twirl the envelope in his fingers.

Shaking his head, Race grabbed the books he needed for the morning. “Nah. It’s not like they’re coming out of the woodwork to tell me it’s them.”

“What’s happening, party people?” Albert, Race’s best friend threw an arm around Race’s neck in greeting.

Jack and Race both laughed as Race pushed Albert’s arm away. “Racer’s got another love letter.”

“It’s not a love letter.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s a wish you well letter.”

Albert tilted his head. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

“No. Now I’m going to class. See you later at lunch?” Race asked, hiking his book bag up on his shoulder, not waiting for a nod from either of them before walking to his Science class.

Sitting in his designated seat, he slid his finger under the envelope flap and opened it, revealing an index card with a quote on it - “Shoot for the Moon, even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars,” by Les Brown. He heard his table mate sit down with a groan. “You still getting those?”

“Yea.” Race stuck it back in the envelope, turning to face Spot with a grin.

Spot shook his head. “Well whoever is giving you those has it bad for you. Frankly, I don’t get the appeal.”

“Hey I’m a catch. You’d be damn lucky to have me in your life, Spottie.” Race gave him a look, pulling out his textbook and notebook from his bag. “You don’t know what you're missing out on.”

“Uh huh sure.” Spot said dryly, pulling his notebook out. “I know you’re a total klutz, yet you’re an amazing dancer and a smart aleck who doesn’t know when to shut his mouth. Sure, keep telling yourself I’m the one missing out.”

Race rolled his eyes, raising an eyebrow in Spot’s direction. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you know who’s dropping the notes.”

“Nah, it’s just funny watching you be utterly clueless on your secret admirer.” Spot grinned, turning to the front of the room as their teacher started the lesson. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it if I were you.”

Race was distracted. Anyone within 10 feet of Race knew that he had a crush on Spot. But Spot had pushed off his advances for the last year, and Race knew he’d never see Race as anymore than a friend.

Shaking off those thoughts, Race picked up his pen and started writing down notes as the teacher flipped through the PowerPoint.

Lunchtime

He had stopped by his locker where another envelope, this time lime green, had fallen out. He had grabbed his lunch before sitting at the usual table. He was the first one there and had started to open the envelope when Kat sat down and gave him a look. “Two in one day?”

“Yea.” She was just as intrigued as he was to find out who the secret admirer was. “I was just about to open it.”

Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme

I heard through the grapevine

You’re going to be the Beast in Beauty & The Beast

Break a leg handsome

Kat squealed at the adorable message on the index card. “Racer, you have to find out who’s leaving you these. That was adorable.”

Race smiled, rereading the message before scanning the cafeteria. The school had over a 1,000 kids and it could’ve been any number of them. “But how Kat?”

“Hmmm ….” She was in deep thought as Jack and Crutchie slammed their trays down on the table and looked between the two.

“What did we miss?” Jack asked, kissing Kat’s cheek with a grin.

Race held up the lime green envelope before sliding it over to him. “Who all knows you’re gonna be the Beast?”

“I mean if anyone is paying attention during announcements, everyone could know.” Race rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t help me narrow it down. Is it bad that I’ve got a crush on whoever this is?”

“Trust me, I’ve got a crush on this person.” Kat grinned, pushing Jack’s face away. “But I’m happily taken.”

“Damn straight you are.” Jack mumbled.

Kat rolled her eyes before looking at Race. “You need to catch this person in the act. I think that’s the only way you’re gonna find out … unless they start fessing up.”

Race started thinking ahead to the next day. He was going to try to catch the person responsible for all the heartwarming notes in the act.

“By the end of the week, I’ll find out who’s doing this.” Race looked between his brothers and sister with a grin.

The Next Day

A yellow envelope greeted him as he stopped by his locker. So whoever was responsible for this got to school before 7:30, clue number one. His tongue stuck out between his lips as he opened the envelope and leaned against the lockers.

Happy Wednesday! I heard you’re curious about my identity! You’re bound and determined to figure out who I am. I’ll give you three clues. First, my nickname comes from an animal. Second, Slingshots usage should be a lesson in PE class. And thirdly, To Kill A Mockingbird is the best book ever written.

Putting the index card back in the envelope, Race was even more confused than when he started reading it. He read it again, trying to figure out if any of the clues meant anything to him.

“Didya get another one?” Kat asked, stopping by his locker, grinning at Race. She took the card when he offered it to her.

She read it, her eyes lit up at the message on the card. “Any idea?”

“None. Not even sure where to begin with that.” Race shook her head, frowning. “Do you have any clue?”

She bit her lip, shaking her head. “Let me think about it and we’ll regroup at lunch.”

He headed to English, twirling the envelope, thoughts confused with who it could be. Whoever it was, they had completely infiltrated his thoughts.

Just before lunch

He got his hall pass signed fifteen minutes before the lunch bell would ring. He was heading to his locker when he saw someone very familiar slipping a navy blue envelope into his locker. “You were the one that left all those notes for me?”

His secret admirer, one Spot Conlon, looked up at him with wide eyes. “Racer, what are you doing out here?”

“Had to go to the bathroom. What’s your excuse?” Race gave him a look, leaning up against the locker.

Spot grinned. “Had to drop this in your locker. Knew you’d stop here before lunch.”

“But why?” He tilted his head looking at one of his best friends. “You’ve been doing this for the last few weeks, why?”

Spot looked up at him. “Two reasons, really. One, I wanted to cheer you up - the last few weeks have been rough for you. And two, I like you, just didn’t know how to tell you. It was really nothing.”

Holding up the green envelope, Race laughed dryly. “These aren’t nothing, Spot. These made my heart warm and made me look forward to these. Have you seen me these last two weeks? I’ve been a damn mess. Also, I like you too. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Yea, you have been. We’re both idiots.” Spot grinned, stepping closer to him. “Can I kiss you?”

Race nodded, as Spot leaned up and cupped his cheek before leaning forward, pressing their lips together in a sweet kiss. Race moved to deepen it as the lunch bell rang. Pulling back, Spot sighed. “Rain check for more?”

“Absolutely, hot stuff.” Race winked, opening up his locker, grabbing the envelope before slamming it shut. “So will these stop now that I know?”

“Only if you want them to.” Spot shrugged, walking beside Race towards the cafeteria.

Race shook his head adamantly. “Over my dead body. Don’t stop them. I actually love them and look forward to them. But you know Kat is all over trying to figure out who it is.”

“I’ll throw some in to get her off my tail.” Spot grinned. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

“Only if you’re mine in return.” Race winked, heading over to their normal table. He dropped his bag to the ground before starting to open the envelope.

Spot snatched the envelope and gave him a look. “One rule, you cannot read those around me.”

“Why?” Race reached to grab the envelope back as Spot gave him a look.

“It’s weird for you to read that while I’m around.” Spot shook his head. “Deal?”

Grabbing the envelope back, Race nodded. “Deal.”

Spot headed towards the lines to grab food while Race grabbed the index card.

You tell me that you're hurt and you're in pain

And I can see your head is held in shame,

But I just wanna see you smile again

See you smile again

Please just smile for me? You don’t know how bright your smile is in this crazy world. Never stop smiling, Racer.

Race smiled bright as Spot came back to the table. Sitting beside Race, Spot nodded to the card. “Good note?”

“I’ll never stop smiling.” Race grinned. “Good pick of lyrics. You’re a closeted boyband aficionado - One Direction lyrics. I’m impressed, Spottie.”

Present Day

“I cannot believe you kept all of those notes.” Spot shook his head, looking at the shoebox full of notes. “Why?”

Race grinned at his husband. “You poured your heart and soul into these. These led us to be boyfriends, there was no way I was getting rid of these. These index cards, in a way, made me fall in love with you.”

“Well when you put it that way.” Spot kissed him. “I did have a way of words. I just can’t believe it took Kat two months after you found out to figure it out. ”

“Jack found out before her.” Race chuckled. “You haven’t lost that at all. Love you Spottie.”

“Love you too Racer.”

Thanks @wide-eyed--wonderer for the prompt. I do not own the One Direction or the Beauty & The Beast Lyrics!!

#newsies #newsies fan fiction #writing #ask #prompts #drabble requests #newsies drabble #drabble prompt #racetrack higgins #spot conlon x racetrack higgins #spot Conlon #high school

31 notes · View notes

alottanothing · 4 years ago

Text

Left to Ruin: Chapter Ten

Summary: Nouke returns to the palace to confront Ahk about his intentions, and worries her heart may shatter. Kahmunrah’s suspicions sink deeper, and someone close to the pharaoh goes missing.

Previous Chapters

Word Count: 5875

Warnings: Bit of sugar 🥰, bit of spice😏, bit of no so very nice 😬 (a n g s t)

Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe, @r-ahh-mi, @theultraviolencefan, @hah0106, @rami-malek-trash, @diasimar, @sherlollydramoine, @flipper-kisses, @ivy-miranda-2390, @txmel, @sunkissedmikky, @concentratedsassandcandy, @babyalienfairy, @edteche2 (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: This chapter can be summed up pretty well with the 😬 emoji. But don’t worry, it will get better...eventually.... Also! Thank you to everyone who has been keeping up and commenting/rebloging/Liking. The fact that this has gotten any attention at all warms my heart. 💕 I hope you enjoy this chapter! Once again as a disclaimer, I am not an ancient Egyptian expert and google only knows so much. So yeah, I took so historical liberties while writing this to make my life easier, but tried to keep it as “authentic” as possible

Every part of Nouke’s sensible mind spent the next day trying to curb the growing desire that yearned to see her sweet prince again. From the beginning, her plan was to cut ties with Ahkmenrah for good once she had everything she required. As cold as such an act seemed, it was smarter to not allow matters between them sink deeper. And matters had already grown well past the realm of amicable charity.

Ahk had tainted her resolute composure with the decadence of his soft lips, giving her heart a taste of the one thing she wanted for herself, but could never have. His unforeseen kiss struck her with a bolt of brilliancy, feeding the dormant desire that had been lying in wait since the day she saw him in the city center, freshly crowned and so handsome—no longer the boy she remembered.

The mere thought of him sent her heart racing up into her throat, and heat to color her cheeks foolishly. She was veering into a path that was not meant for someone like her. Ahkmenrah was second only to the gods—who did that make her? A step above the sands of Egypt?

He was a glittering gem, and she was a pebble in someone's sandals.

Still, those melancholy thoughts could not deter the euphoria of being in Ahk’s arms; his warmth and softness were a welcomed contrast to the reality she’d lived. His path—grand, and out of reach—beckoned like a siren's call. The promise of his smile and the honey-drenched words he spoke made it difficult to stray from the foreign course she walked.

By the time she found the turned stone marking the passageway into the palace, Nouke’s heart was pounding against the walls of her chest with a vibrancy stemming from one-half excitement and the other apprehension. The anxiety that coursed in her was not due to threats made long in her past, but rather the notion before the night was through, her heart may break.

Naively she held onto that pulsing glimmer of excitement; hope that a different conclusion would mark the end of their reunion. Hope was a dangerous thing for someone like her—who had nothing. And yet, hope was all she truly had. It fed dreams no matter how utopian. More specifically, hope fed her heart with the idea that Ahk wanted her as much as she wanted him—forever, and not just for the night.

Minutes passed, stretching longer than the one before, as she stood with her feet buried in the sand, her eyes fixated on the singular crooked stone. Her hand hovered over it while her mind waged war with her heart, both screaming and neither coming to an absolute decision.

The vibrant hues of the sunset were swiftly succumbing to the black of night when Nouke shut out reason and bottled both the dangerous hope and the nagging insecurity. Her lips parted in a long breath, letting her rapid heart slow and her mind empty. If she could will her head to keep her heart from reaching too boldly, then perhaps it would not betray her.

There was a slight tremor in her hands as she pulled the bricks from the stone wall—each stone seeming heavier than she remembered. Nouke did her best to ignore their peculiar weight and the shake in her hands, not wanting to breathe too much life into such a sign.

When the hole was large enough to climb through, she did so easily, avoiding the sharp stones that threatened to scrape her elbows as she passed.

“Evening,” a familiar deep voice bellowed softly, startling her.

Nouke gasped and jumped finding Kamuzu standing on the other side of the foliage in the garden.

“Forgive me, lady Nouke,” he apologized with a bow of his head. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

She’d forgotten Ahk’s promise that his trusted Medjay companion would be waiting to escort her, and quickly composed herself.

“No harm,” she assured him.

Kamuzu responded with his usual nod and stepped into the bush enough to hand her a neatly folded garment. Nouke eyed it quizzically, her brows furrowing with intrigue as she cautiously accepted the bundle.

“Our king thought it would be best if you were to hide in plain sight.”

The silent question faded, her creased brow leaving only the intrigue as she carefully unfolded the linen garment: a simple but distinctly elegant sheath dress. The wide straps were decorated with fine blue and red beads, stitched into place with golden thread. In the right light, the faceted beads and metallic threads sparkled. The article was far too fine a thing for a commoner to possess, and she couldn’t keep from brushing her fingers over the textured straps and well-made cloth.

It wasn’t until Kamuzu cleared his throat that she looked to see he’d ventured back beyond the foliage and into the garden, standing with his back to her.

“If you would, my lady,” he spoke kindly. “Our pharaoh is very much looking forward to seeing you. We should not keep him waiting.”

Nouke glanced down at the dress again, running her fingertips over the beads one last time.

“Right.”

Without ceremony, she removed her tired, work warn garments, kicking them aside and slid the dress over her head. The fabric fell to encompass her in a display of feathery movements, disturbed only by the sight breeze that cascaded through the hole in the wall behind her. Nouke bit her lip as a smile unfurled on her face. It was as though she’d plucked a cloud in the heavens to wear; the fine linen was too gentle to scratch her skin—so light it felt as though she wore nothing at all.

When she stepped through the grove of bushes and trees to join Kamuzu in the garden, he cast her a faint, approving smile, and motioned for her to follow.

Venturing down the halls of the pharaoh’s palace with Kamuzu to lead fostered a sense of serenity. She was safe in his presence. A grin threatened to curl her lips at the newfound peace and the thrill it sparked, but she did her best to play the part—keeping her face noble and indifferent. Nouke let her eyes wander freely, however, marveling at the structures and the artistry of Ahk’s home like she never had before.

As a girl, she never thought to appreciate the beauty. The gold and mixture of painted colors suited Ahk; amidst vibrant colors and glittering interiors was where he belonged: a descendant of Ra.

A descendant of Ra—the smile on her mouth faltered as her mind reminded her that he was next to godliness, and she was next to nothing. Had it not been the sudden slam of closing doors seizing her attention, Nouke was certain those thoughts would have sent her back through the garden wall and away from Ahkmenrah forever.

Nouke was unfamiliar with the corridor Kamuzu was leading her down, and her eyes followed the noise to find a towering set of double doors at the end of the hall. Several men exited, and at first glance, she thought they were palace guards, seeing the weapons strapped to their belts. However, their miss matching armor pieces were evidence to the contrary.

Kahmunrah walked at their head, and Nouke felt disgusted knots tighten in her stomach at the sight of him. A thinly veiled frown worked onto her features; her loathing pressing deeper as she watched him approach carrying an air of hubris befitting for a king despite holding no significant title.

“Ahh, there’s my brother’s trusted companion.” Kah stood before them, as though he expected them to kneel. “Slacking on your duties, are you? It’s not often to find you not glued to his side.”

“I am always loyal to my king. A trait you would do well to learn,” Kamuzu quipped straight-faced and unprovoked, much to Kahmunrah’s chagrin.

Anger spread over his face like wildfire, turning his features impossibly red, causing his smug grin to swiftly turn into a scowl.

“And you would be wise to learn your place,” Kah spat. “I am the son of a pharaoh—you are nothing more than a glorified soldier.”

Kamuzu squared his shoulders and suddenly it was, as though he’d grown an extra foot, making him taller than Kahmunrah. A tight-lipped smirk settled onto the Medjay’s face.

“Move aside, disgraced son of a pharaoh. Or I shall move you.”

The band of roughians at Kahmunrah’s flanks all stepped forward defensively, hands to their weapons, ready to draw. Almost instantly, four more Madjey appeared to stand with Kamuzu. They too had their hand over their weapons, but Kahmunrah’s raised hand stopped the impending bloodshed.

When Kah’s men backed down, the Medjay returned to their stations without need of command. Nouke’s heart was racing again as her eyes darted back and forth between Kamuzu and Kahmunrah even though she knew it was best not to look directly at the pharaoh’s brother.

“So, my brother has you fetching his entertainment for the evening; I see.”

Nouke could feel Kah’s black eyes snake up and down her body with a wicked hunger that made her skin crawl. He stepped closer to circle her.

“This one is certainly pretty.” Kah stepped back into his previous position, wetting his lips as his eyes continued to undress her.

“See to it that she is brought to my chamber once my brother has had his fill. They’re always better a little broken in.”

Nouke’s stomach churned sickly; the idea of his vile hands touching her made her skin crawl even more. She would sooner throw herself from a balcony than share a bed with Kahmunrah.

Nouke through a fiery leer at Kah, and it only made his fiendish smirk grow.

“Oh, this one has fight. Even better!” he laughed, as did his men. Their wicked chortle filled the hall with a malevolence thick enough to suffocate.

Instinctively, Nouke’s fists clenched into balls; with any luck, she could manage one blow to Kahmunrah’s head before his guards descended upon her. The joy such an action would bring almost outweighed whatever punishment he would think up. Kamuzu, however, stepped between them.

From his tone, Nouke could almost see his vehement expression—his mocking smirk gone.

“As previously stated, you are a disgraced son of pharaoh—you a are not worthy of the likes of her. Now, I ask again. Please. Step. Aside.”

Kahmunrah squared his shoulders in challenge, not quite matching Kamuzu’s stature. Still, Kah’s eyes narrowed and the tint of red bled into his face once more.

“One day I will make sure you regret these fun exchanges we have.”

“I look forward to that day,” Kamuzu assured him without a twinge of fear to cloud his tone.

The two were locked in a stare-off for a minute before Kah folded. He snapped his fingers, and his men moved collectively to flank him as he sulked off down the hall, muttering orders to his men that Nouke didn’t catch.

The moment he was out of sight; all the fury vanished inside of her.

“You will have to forgive our king’s brother,” Kamuzu said in a tone of heavy distaste. “Although, if I may speak freely; he is undeserving of your forgiveness.”

Nouke smiled at him, “Thank you."

A gentle smile ghosted over Kamuzu’s expression, casting it to her with a bow of his head. Without anyone else to interrupt, he led her through the double doors and into what she could only assume to be the pharaoh’s private chambers.

Nouke’s mouth fell open when her eyes took in the grandeur of the interior of his room. Ahk’s chamber, itself, was akin to a small palace. The ceiling was as high as the heavens, held in place by towering columns, etched with storied hieroglyphs. Directly across from the entry, the far wall gave way to a large balcony were two statues of Ra stood sentry on either side. Her eyes skimmed every sight, reveling in all the splendor and ornateness of the various pieces of furniture until her breath caught and her heart leapt into her throat, finding the most breathtaking feature in the whole of Egypt.

Ahkmenrah was draped lavishly in the golden finery that marked his station; the gold of his jeweled bracers and wesekh gleaming under the torchlight. Nouke had to fight a frown seeing the crown on his head—it hid his boyish curls she loved so much. Still, she smiled seeing him again.

Something felt off, however. Nouke could sense it the moment her eyes locked on him. Ahk’s usual devil-may-care charm was masked by tense muscles, a heavy brow, and the hastened gait of a ruler whose mind was fraught with worry. He paced about the large room, one hand on his hip, the other pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Whatever it was that plagued him, held his focus with an iron grip; not even the echoing thud of the double door's closing drew him from his thoughts.

All at once, Nouke wanted only to run to him, to wrap her arms around him and console her sweet prince from whatever it was he found so troubling. Her mind, however, kept her feet planted in spite of what her heart wanted. She remained several feet away, Kamuzu at her side, chewing her bottom lip as she watched her friend, feeling helpless. Her reason for being there still eluded her, and until she knew beyond a doubt that he called upon her for reasons her heart yearned, Nouke would force herself to remain neutral.

“My king, I have brought you the lady Nouke, safely—as commanded.” Kamuzu bowed his head respectfully as he spoke.

Nouke hesitated, seeing the gesture and feeling obliged to do the same, bowed her head despite Ahk’s reassurance she needed not address him so formally.

The distinct cadence of footfalls that filled the chamber as he paced, halted. Nouke glanced up, peering at him from under her lashes as she slowly raised her bowed head. The moment his eyes found hers; all the burden melted away.

Ahk dazzled her with a smile, all teeth, and sparkling eyes, that was reminiscent of her carefree prince. His rapturous expression found its way into her heart, filling it with warmth, and she returned his smile before she could think better of it.

He crossed the space between them in a flurry of fluid movements illustrated regally by the flowing of his golden robes and without hesitation, scooped her into his strong arms. A surprised chuckle broke from her lips when her feet left the ground; the sound of her laugh painting even more radiance on his face.

Before Ahk settled her back onto her feet, he claimed her lips in a searing kiss that Nouke foolishly leaned into, utterly intoxicated by the sensation of his luscious mouth on her own. Every moment spent in his arms with his lips brushing against hers was like a drug; it muffled the reasonably cautious part of her mind that begged her not to act on her heart’s hopes and desires.

Each of his tender touches, every embrace, and intimate gaze Ahkmenrah bestowed upon her, tempted Nouke a little further down the path she was forbidden to tread. True, her body burned to have him, but her heart was greedier. Her selfish heart wanted him all to herself every day, until the end of her days. Nouke wanted to be bound to him in body and spirit for more than just a single night.

When he kissed her so deeply there in his chambers, squeezing her against his chest, Nouke knew she should have stayed away. Her mind could not compete with her greedy heart.

“I have waited all day for this moment," Ahk said on a puff of breath with hearts in his eyes.

“Me too,” she replied just as wistfully.

Her eyes fell to his glistening, wet lips; the sight of them shooting a wave of fire through her veins, and she bit down on her own to keep from tasting his again.

“I trust you traveled well?” he asked, a smirk growing having caught her gawking.

Nouke nodded, forcing herself to meet his eyes, struggling to keep from looking at his lips.

Ahk pulled his lower lip between his teeth as his grin grew, stepping back and tangling his fingers with hers.

“How beautiful you are. That dress suits you.” The pharaoh’s eyes wandered hungrily down her figure—drinking in the sight of her. His tongue poked out to wet his lips before his lewd gaze returned to hers.

“Such beauty,” he confirmed, stepping back into her orbit.

“Is it the dress that makes me beautiful?” Nouke tested imploringly, feeling unworthy of his compliment.

Her skin was darkened from years of labor under the sun, making it more akin to a hide than delicate flesh—coated in callouses, sand and dirt. Nothing about her ever alluded to being beautiful.

Soft fingers cradled her jaw as she watched the blue of his eyes smolder with the compassion she admired, and he tipped their foreheads together as he spoke.

“If it were the dress I found most appealing, I would have noted its beauty and not your own. Your beauty outshines any raiment or jeweled crown.”

Ahk kissed her again, a meditative draw—slow and brimming with the conviction behind his words. Warmth cascaded over her skin in a wave of goosebumps when his palm pressed against her back, pulling her against him with fervor.

“Come,” he implored, breathless against her lips. “I have something to show you.”

He took her hands and led her onto the balcony; the euphoria sweeping over her made her powerless to deny him. The weight of his hand twined with hers was comforting, and it worked to crumble the wall meant to keep her a careful distance. She squeezed his fingers—a test to make sure he was truly there—and when he cast her a smile in reply, it was brighter and more ethereal than Ra himself. The starlight reflecting in the blue of his eyes made her heart soar and her breath catch. He was so beautiful.

Waset glistened in the light of Khonsu. The glow of amber firelight flickered like a mirror of the twinkling stars overhead. The sleeping city looked so calm from the perch of the pharaoh’s balcony, and the sight worked over her with awe. Nouke could have stood for hours watching the city that way.

Her eyes skirted the far away horizon, standing at the edge of the veranda, against the stone railing until her vision met Ahkmenrah’s profile. The shadows and the flicker of torches highlighted his strong jaw and high cheekbones with a sharp contrast that made his features regal and masculine. Suddenly, the city was inconsequential—he was the most stunning thing within her sight.

Ahk tossed her another quick smile before dexterously maneuvering to stand behind her, looping an arm around her waist to hold her against his chest. Nouke felt so safe encompassed in his arms. She fit so perfectly.

“I found your farm,” he murmured against her ear, pointing to the horizon.

Nouke could hear his proud and delighted grin in his tone—too easy for her to picture in her mind.

“You have to squint, but it’s there.”

He moved his hand back to her waist, and as his fingers spread over her abdomen, their warmth settled in her core. Instantly her mouth was dry, and she struggled to swallow. Her whole body tingled—betraying her rational mind. Nouke gnawed her bottom lip biting hard enough to drown the desire building in her center that made her heart pound excitedly.

“What--um--what had you so worried before I came in?” she asked in an attempt to deter her want.

The lines of Ahk’s body went rigid against her. Whatever his concern had been; it was still bothering him.

“I don’t think I have ever seen you so worried before,” Nouke tried again when he offered no explanation.

She felt him shrug, and his body relax once more.

“It’s no matter,” he assured her, but there was a hint of unease in his voice.

Ahk’s hands slipped from her waist and she mourned their loss with a frown he couldn’t see, afraid she had upset him. A second later, feather-light touches swept up and down her arms; gentle brushes that aroused goosebumps to prickle her flesh and more longing to cloud her sensible mind.

His right hand glided all the way up her arm, just the pads of his fingers ghosting over her skin, before hooking them under the strap of her dress, sliding it to expose the tender flesh of her shoulder.

“My men are handling it.” Heat danced from his words and over her skin—lips against her shoulder even more tantalizing than the touch of his fingers.

Nouke sighed when his lips pressed firmly to the juncture of her neck and shoulder—mind in a fog, her heart beating too fervently to count. Her mouth fell open with a soft sound she couldn’t quell as her eyes fluttered shut to savor every moment; head falling aside, encouraging his ministrations.

Ahkmenrah’s lips quirked into a smile, and he hummed; the smug sound sent a rush of heat through her. His lips were sinful and heavenly at once, moving against the column of her neck, stopping to suck a bruise over her pulse before smoothing the mark with a sweep of his tongue. The warmth of his palms snaked up her torso, gliding over her hips and sides before cupping the globes of her breasts, thumbs dragging over her nipples. Despite the layer of linen between his hands and her skin, they tingled to a point almost immediately and the pharaoh made a throaty sound of approval.

Nouke bit her lip to keep the, frankly, lewd sounds from escaping her throat. It wasn’t until his mouth mapped a trail to her earlobe, licking and nipping as his hands gently kneaded each breast, that something akin to a moan broke from the cage of her closed lips. Her breath hitched and for a moment she feared she would fall from the sudden rush.

In a swift movement, he was there to catch her. Ahk’s hands circled her waist, the tips of his fingers digging into the soft swell of her rear as he possessively pulled her against him as his mouth found hers again. His tongue quickly flicked along her lips, stealing a taste, and she opened for him with a sigh—lost in the feel of him. Tendrils of lazy warmth worked through her as his teeth took her bottom lip with a nip with just enough pressure the pleasure outweighed the pain.

Nouke whined in the back of her throat as her arms twined over his shoulders, holding him closer until all of her senses were marked by the feel of him. Her heart was hammering in her chest; the muffled scream of alarm dulled by the taste and the feel of Ahk’s tongue swirling with her own.

Ahkmenrah broke the kiss with a breathless gasp to fill his empty lungs before searing a trail of kisses down her neck and opposite shoulder, sucking every sweet spot that drew a cry or whine from her lips. Nouke's head was inundated by desire—heat pooling with need at her center.

When his fingers threatened to slide the other strap of her dress away to undress her, the alarm of reality rang loud with warning.

Suddenly, it was all too much, too quickly with no rhyme or reason.

Nouke’s eyes shot open, and she wrangled herself free of Ahkmenrah’s grasp, yanking the straps of her dress back into place, suddenly dizzy. The abrupt loss of his closeness ached, but she fought against it.

Her abrupt movement almost sent Ahk careening forward into a stumble but he caught himself as puzzlement and the unfamiliar sting of rejection settled on his features in a wide-eyed expression. No words left his open mouth, but his question was in the crease of his brow and perplexed unblinking stare.

It took Nouke a moment to recover from the stardust and euphoria, and when she finally calmed, she gathered her resolve to keep her heart from leading her astray.

“Why did you ask me here,” she said.

She could sense the onslaught of tears brought on by the confusing mix of emotions at odds with each other inside of her. Her voice sounded cold—she didn’t mean for it to sound cold. But she wanted an explanation. She deserved an explanation.

He said nothing, his stunned expression pressing deeper as his eyes lost their focus. Something dark and precarious twisted in her stomach the longer he hesitated; Nouke did her best to ignore it.

“Why, Ahk?” she pressed firmly, using that malaise to fuel her reasoning. “Because I refuse to be summoned to your chamber; to be seduced, used, and tossed aside.”

Disappointment tugged at her heartstrings and tightened the knots in her belly, recalling Kahmunrah’s assumption that she was the king’s evening entertainment. A routine of his, it seemed. How many women lined up each night to spend an evening with their handsome, virile pharaoh? She feared to know about those numbers.

Nouke wanted more than a night of wanton pleasures; she wanted all of him—body, mind, and spirit.

Some of her steam evaporated when she felt her heart begin to break with the notion of his thoughts being nothing more than a heedless desire. Nouke exhaled heavily in an attempt to drive away some of the pain.

“Do your words and your kisses mean anything? Or am I simply someone new to warm your bed?”

Ahkmenrah’s eyes darted to meet hers—the first time since she’d pulled away. As he thought, Nouke watched the severity of his emotions drift over his features until finally, they softened; his wide eyes growing sad with a twinge of hurt.

“I would never—” Ahk hung his head, his focus falling to the floor as he searched for the words he wanted desperately to say.

Mist glistened in his eyes when he slowly brought them back to share her gaze. He stepped towards her but refrained from reaching to touch her.

“Surely you must know my feelings for you,” he said softly.

An inkling of relief surged through to find her guarded heart hearing his revelation, bringing hope that would surely leave her broken.

“Color spilled back into my life when I saw you again,” he confessed.

Nouke risked a smile. She knew the feeling he spoke of—she’d been lost in his colors her entire life. But while it thrilled her hopeful heart that her love was reciprocated, there was more. Her initial question still remained in the air between them like a dark cloud, unanswered.

If she wasn’t there, in the privacy of the pharaoh’s bed-chamber to be merely bedded, then gotten rid of, there had to be another reason. She had his love. Nouke could see it in the way he looked at her; in the way he kissed her. His love for her was as real and as passionate as the sun.

But Ahkmenrah already had his queen.

Slowly, and somehow all at once, the unease crept back under her skin as her mind pieced together realization. The thick air of the room stuck in her throat, and she had to swallow twice before it cleared.

“Why am I here, Ahk?” she asked, fearing she already knew the answer.

Ahkmenrah swallowed too.

“The council,” he paused. “The council wishes for me to take—”

“A second wife,” Nouke choked out, feeling her stomach drop.

Her chest grew tight, and she struggled to breathe as her heart shattered.

“Yes,” he confirmed, only causing her more duress.

“No,” she mumbled, clutching her stomach in an attempt to keep herself from unraveling in front of him.

“No?” Ahk repeated, both question and defeat in his tone.

Nouke nodded, unable to bring herself to say it again; a part of her in anguish to deny him.

All of her life she saw the love her mother and father shared. She wanted a sliver of that happiness for herself. Nouke would not settle for a lifetime of feeling jealous or selfish for wanting the man she loved all to herself.

“It’s normal; I imagine, for a man in your position to take multiple wives,” she spoke calmly, but found it difficult to meet his gaze. “But that is not a life I will ever want for myself.”

“Nouke...” When he reached to take her hand, she moved away—cutting herself off from his touch like she should have long before that moment.

“I was given very little in this life—something I came to terms with a long time ago. But if I could ask the gods for one blessing, it would be to be your only one.” Nouke spoke with conviction and truth.

The weight of her words crushed the pharaoh’s regal posture as the sting of her declaration pierced him. The usual spark in his eyes faded, and his muscles grew tense. Nouke’s eyes never strayed as she waited for him to utter a response. Whether it was hopeful or devastating she didn’t care. All she wanted was some recognition that he understood. But what she found in his eyes was emptiness—Ahk was completely closed off.

“Have you nothing to say?” Nouke asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes looked in her direction, but through her; as though she wasn’t there at all.

It was as she had feared, his crown had spoiled him. He was given everything, and now; rejection made him cold. The boy she grew up with would never have surrendered so easily. He would have fought to keep her; she wanted him to fight. But he said nothing.

“Well,” she stated, allowing venom to seep into her tone—just enough to sting.

“Thank you…my king.” Nouke knelt before him, holding it long enough to let him know she understood her place.

There were tears in her eyes when she stood to leave, and for a moment she thought he was going to fight, his mouth open, but he only nodded.

Never had she felt so foolish. Her heart had not listened, and now it ached with a pain Nouke feared would never truly heal.

***

Ahkmenrah stood, breaths shallow, muscles tense, with his eyes fixated on the doors of his chamber feeling as though a hole had just been ripped into the very fabric of his soul, and it was all his fault. He didn’t move; hoping with every passing second those doors would swing back open and Nouke would come back so he could fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness.

The moments, however, stretched into minutes and with them, time brought the realization she was gone. It was an ache that pulsed with a heaviness in his bones. His stomach dropped as tears fought to breach his kingly composure. He was a fool.

A haggard breath shook him as his eyes shut and his head hung, forcing the flow of his tears steadier down his cheeks. The ample silence screamed with an echo of how alone he felt. It was a stillness that was heavy and haunting, mixing sickly with the anguish that worked through him with a chill.

The writhing subsided only when the sound of the chamber door opening rang out, spooking the pharaoh out of his woeful stupor. Relief rippled through him, and the influx of happiness prompted more tears to sting his eyes—she had returned to him!

The relief vanished with a cold sweep of reality when he looked to see Medjay entering and not the woman he loved.

Ahkmenrah hastily wiped his tears from his face and reaffirmed his stately posture as he greeted his trusted guards. His voice was shaky and betrayed his stoic composure, but his men didn’t question him.

“Is there any news?” he asked, valiantly trying not to let his pain taint his noble tone.

He hoped they brought good news; he needed it.

The two men shared a hesitant glance that lent enough clarity that the tidings they came with were not what Ahkmenrah was desperate to hear. The look on their faces sent a surge of worry through his body making his emotions that much more volatile.

“The entire palace and the grounds have been searched, twice over, my pharaoh,” one Medjay expressed solemnly. “There is no sign of Queen Setshepsut, I am sorry.”

Ahkmenrah’s posture wilted as he sighed—grief tearing through him mercilessly. In his heart, he knew his sister's disappearance was due to his foolishness as well. Every word spoken to her and to Nouke had been misconstrued. He’d broken a vow and let the woman he loved believe she was not his only love. Now, they were both gone.

The pharaoh took a steadying breath, gradually building his pose back to that of a composed ruler.

“She must be found,” he told them in earnest. “Her safe return is of the utmost concern. Take men—as many as you require. Search the city. Discreetly, if you can. The people of Egypt mustn’t suspect their queen has gone missing.”

Both Medjay nodded, and spoke in perfect unison, “As you command, my king.”

They held their bowed heads until Ahkmenrah dismissed them with a wave, “Go now. Do not stop until she is found.”

The moment his guardians were sealed behind closed doors, every shred of his collected mien snapped and crumbled. The icy pang of grief snaked through him; the ear-splitting sound of silence rekindling his unease. Tears welled in his eyes again—a manifestation of his regret and ire. His fists clenched into white-knuckled balls as his grief boiled over into unbridled rage directed at only himself.

How could I be so careless?

A piercing ache swelled in his skull, sharp and pulsing, made worse by the weight of the crown on his head. His teeth were set against each other, tight, and his lips curled into a sneer as he took the royal headpiece into his hands. In the glean of the polished metal, he caught his reflection and fury faded to a frown finding the distorted features looking back at him.

Could so trivial an object rule and sculpt him—turn him into the blinded fool he had become?

Ahk’s frown contorted into disgust and with an artless toss, he let the crown tumble to the floor. It clanked against the stone ground splitting the silence with a brash sound that made the proceeding quiet even worse than before. His room was cold—he was cold, and the coupling rendered an unfathomable sadness.

Ahkmenrah stumbled backward; his feet shakier with every fumbled step and stopped only when his back collided with a stone column. All too quickly his body fell limp, sliding until he was on the floor, his tears falling freely as the sounds of his cries filled the empty air—wishing he’d been smart enough to run away first.

Next Chapter-> Chapter Eleven: The Duality of Duty

#Ahkmenrah #Ahkmenrah x Original Character #Ahkmenrah Fanfiction #Night at the Museum #NATM #NATM Fanfiction #Left to Ruin #Rami Malek Character #Rami Malek Character Fanfiction #Rami Malek Fanfiction #Rami Malek

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wolferals · 4 years ago

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🔆PRISONER🔆

reader x him (imagine any guy)

„Put your arms on the counter."

I followed the police's orders and did as she said.

She started feeling me up, starting at my breasts down to my knuckles.

„Alright follow me Miss." I grabbed my bag that had been set on the floor after she's gone through it to check if I had any potential weapons with me.

„There's one thing you should know about him."

She started as we walked down the long grey corridors to the prisoners cells.

„Yes?" I asked nervously while struggling to keep up with her steps.

„He is tremendously good at charming people. Like immensely good, he will have you wrapped around his criminal fingers faster than you can even introduce yourself. So keep in mind what he did and try to focus on your questions."

You nodded as she opened a heavy metal door leading to the interrogation rooms.

„These two gentlemen will be right here if you need them, they will interfere right away. Just remember, 30 minutes from now."

She spoke one last time before opening the door, letting you into the white locked up room.

The unexpectedly handsome criminal sat on one of the chairs, leaning back, crossed legged.

„Well hello there peachy." He grinned at you, making his blue eyes light up.

„Hello." You sat down opposite of him and took out your notebook and a pen.

He suddenly sat up straight and leaned dangerously close to your face. „Uhm we.. I have some questions for you."

He just nodded back at you, sending you a cocky smile.

„Come on then girly, we got 30 minutes only."

You took a deep breath before starting to speak.

„What does it feel like being in here for such a long time?"

He didn't even change his expression and replied:"It's great man, absolutely great. Got my own room, have a lot of time to think and can masturbate whenever I want. It can be quite shit though because if you do it too often, your balls get all blue and start hurting."

Your mouth automatically hung open at his words.

„Uhm okay... Im gonna write *getting a chance to think about my actions*".

He chuckled. „Alright then. Next question peachy."

You swallowed and continued:"Okay, whats gonna be the first thing to do once you get out?"

He started grinning right away. „Easy. Find you, peachy."

-„What, why?"

This time, he laughed out loud, leaning back again.

„You'll see baby." He gave you a wink, which made you roll your eyes, yet you had to grin.

„Write that though. And once you're at it, write down your number for me so I can give you a call sometime."

You give him a serious look and then paid attention to your notebook again.

„See my family and friends." You spoke to yourself while writing.

„Oh come on girl, family and friends? Who am I, Alice in Wonderland? Write something better, like *get drunk and hookup*."

-„I'm not going to write that! I will get graded on this."

He chuckled again and leans forward again. „You gotta pull that stick out your bum. And once we're already at that, Imma help you find a substitute for the stick. Little hint, its my cock."

He started laughing at his own joke loudly, while you just looked at him in disbelief. Something inside of you wanted to laugh as well but he was a criminal, he almost killed a guy and also beat up lots of other people.

„Okay... third question. Whats the most important thing you've learned in here?"

The handsome blue eyed man smiled. This time, really sweetly and honestly. „I learned that sometimes its really important to fully trust yourself and focus on your own good. Like ya I fucked up and these are my consequences, but once I'm out there Imma care about myself in the first place because on one will ever believe in myself the way I do."

You nodded at him and smiled. He seemed really passionate about that which touched you.

„But again, uhm peachy, i wanna see you out there in 3 months alright?"

You laughed a little while writing his previous answers. „Im serious. I can show you that I'm not as bad as you think."

This time you smiled at him. „Alright you know what. Do you know the chapel down Jamison street? If you plead guilty at your trial and get out that day, be there at 4:30pm sharp."

His eyes lit up as he nodded. „For you, anything."

Rolling your eyes again, you chuckled while packing your stuff.

„Okay Miss, 30 minutes are up. Say goodbye Prince Charming." The male cop spoke as he waited for you to leave the room.

„Bye, see you next week." You waved goodbye to the handsome stranger.

„Hey peachy, when you come back please bring a photo of yourself. I need something pretty for my room."

You chuckled again, smiling goodbye.

„Bye peachy. You're real hot you know that?"

-„Shut it boy. Don't harass the young girl." The cop spoke, leading you outside.

While walking to the front door you heard his voice one last time, as he was walked through the hallway as well.

„I cant help it man. She's real pretty, I guess Imma behave now to get out."

#cute #preference #preferences #imagine #hot #love #him #prison

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snowflake-of-destruction · 4 years ago

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Lost in Translation

I can’t write a quick, few line caption to save my life Part 3/8. Based off of the third picture of THIS POST and the idea that Sora just yells in dolphin when getting frustrated at his human’s slow learning curve. Read more for length again. Italics are mermish. This is dumb but so are these boys.

@shaky-mayhemm

Part 4/? of Mermaid AU that needs a name

"Hello," Sora enunciated slowly and clearly.

"Sea Urchin," the sailor chittered back uncertainly.

Sora shook his head and repeated, "Hello."

"Hello," the sailor mimicked.

Sora resisted the urge to slap his fin against the surface of the water in triumph. There was a delicate balance at play. His human had proved more skittish than the red one, even though the handsome silver sailor had technically sought him out first, if falling out of his boat could be counted. Sora would have thought pulling him back to surface and clearing his lungs of water--after a brief confusion where he'd tried to coax the human to swallow more sea to make him feel better enough to wake up--would have proven his intentions were good. He'd even brought the human a fish to eat and get his strength up, though he supposed the sailor must have been too worn out by almost drowning to be hungry because he'd batted the still flopping fish away from his mouth quite forcefully when Sora had tried to feed him. Maybe he just didn't like to eat when he first woke up.

Even with these good first impressions though, the sailor had made a loud screech when he'd first noticed Sora's tail and had dug his hands into the ground and propelled himself backward as far away as he could with the limited room he was allowed on the tiny rock island jutting out of the water Sora had brought him to. He'd scrubbed his eyes with his hands and spouted a series of incomprehensible but almost angry sounding mouth noises, making Sora wish he hadn't kept quite so far a distance when he'd followed Roxas to see where he kept disappearing to (Sora had known for awhile Xion was just making up stories to cover for his twin. The day she ran out of plausible excuses like trying to fill the trench so the ocean floor was even or cleaning the shells of geriatric turtles as community service, and flat out claimed Roxas had been eaten by a whale had cinched it. Granted, Kairi had said Roxas was sneaking to the surface weeks ago, but Kairi hadn't been around when Roxas and Sora had last tried to move sand to the trenches to fill them so she didn't know how convincing that excuse sounded). If he'd been better a better spy when he'd observed Roxas meeting with the red maned sailor then maybe he'd have an idea of what mouth sounds would soothe this human.

He'd done well enough without human words so far though, even if pantomime was tough. There had been a major setback when Sora had swum quick circles around the rock to ask if the human felt well enough to swim with him back to proper land or try to find his boat now that the storm had passed, and the sailor had seemed to interpret this as "I am a shark about to eat you," but they'd gotten back on track and Sora had coaxed the sailor to at least trust him enough to keep to the edge of the rock instead of the middle. He almost ruined it when the silver-haired human had first felt confident enough to dip his feet in the water--to prove to himself Sora wouldn't pull him right in--and Sora had immediately swum up between his legs, but this, like the other setbacks, was eventually remedied and they were now back in that position, human sitting on the edge of the rock and Sora bracketed between his legs, arms resting above the sailor's knees, face tilted up as he tried to teach him to talk properly. If he stayed as still and calm as he could, he was sure he could avoid startling the sailor again. He'd already been tested when a hand had reached out and combed softly through his hair. He hadn't been able to help a contented sigh when he'd been petted--grateful that the human was realizing he was friendly and was being friendly back, that was the only reason--but it hadn't scared the human. just made him go pink for a moment.

"Sora," Sora pointed at his chest, then tilted his head to the side like a question.

"Sora?" the human reached out again and tentatively brushed his fingers against the smattering of scales on Sora's shoulder, like he wasn't sure if they were shells or attached to the merman since most of the rest of his upper body didn't show signs of being part fish.

Sora nodded vigorously. "Sora," he kept a hand pressed against his chest for a moment and then patted the front of the human's weird baggy detached skin over his heart.

"Riku," the sailor supplied.

" Reee-coo? Riku! Riku, Riku Riku." Sora tested out the name, smiling at the bubbling feeling the sounds caused in his chest.

"Sora." Riku was smiling too. Fingers gently combed through Sora's hair once more.

Sora leaned his head against the side of Riku's knee, humming the name one last time, "Riku," and debating what should come next. Something useful. Something that would help him get Riku back to where he belonged or signal him to wait while Sora went and found Roxas to help. He looked up at Riku's face to see if the human had any ideas. The sun on the surface of the water, making it sparkle and dance like it didn't below and bringing out warmth in the blue-green had nothing on Riku's eyes. "Pretty."

"Pretty," Riku agreed, while continuing to pet through Sora's hair, and the merman turned his face to the side, burying it against Riku's leg in embarrassment. The human couldn't know what he was saying.

"You weren't supposed to repeat that one. I'm not...you know. I'm just me. Even Kairi was disappointed. She didn't say it but I know she had to be. She came all the way from the Radiant Seas to see this prince she's supposed to marry...and ohh let me tell you that's awkward...or not really that awkward because I'm not sure she wants to get married either....not right away at least...What was I saying? Kairi makes me feel small because she's a pearl and I'm just like grit stuck in a clam...which also becomes a pearl I guess, but that's not the point because she also somehow makes me feel strong? Like I can do anything? Like save you. I think my whole life was leading up to saving you from drowning. Is that stupid to say since we just met?" Sora paused to gulp in air, even if the dryness of it made his throat burn a bit, and risked a glance to see how Riku was taking his rambling. He'd felt the absence of the hand in his hair and now he saw it was because Riku was covering his ears. "Sorry, you're right. That was coming on way too strong, and you probably don't care about the Kairi stuff, though I bet you would care about Kairi if you met her. You can't help it. Kairi's amazing."

Riku pushed a single finger against Sora's lips, leaning in close enough as he did that Sora was slightly concerned he'd topple into the water. "Shh" Sora went slightly cross-eyed looking at the digit and had to resist the nonsensical urge to lick it. "You need to go slow, Sora."

"I don't know what you're saying," Sora confessed.

"Pretty?" Riku tried to reorient the conversation.

"Forget that," Sora ordered.

"Pretty?" Riku tried again, thinking his pronunciation was off.

Sora yelled a noise of wordless frustration and Riku imitated him.

"You need to stop fixating on that word. Let's pick another word. Sky. Boat. Octopus! Algae!"

"Pretty?" Riku tugged on his weird second skin as he asked the question. "Pretty?" He pulled a lock of his hair. "Pretty?" He gently bopped Sora's nose.

"Yes, you're really pretty. You're the prettiest thing I've ever seen. No! Not me. I already told you that I'm not pretty! Technically you're not pretty either. I should have said handsome but....you are so pretty, but you really need to focus."

"Too loud," Riku frowned for emphasis. "Too fast. Slow down."

"I don't know what you're saying!" Sora found himself speaking more loudly as he repeated his earlier words.

"I wish I knew what you were saying," Riku sighed.

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE SAYING!" Sora made large hand gestures, waving by his mouth, to help the conversation.

"Too loud," Riku just spoke more insistently and mimed covering his ears.

"THOSE ARE EARS. EARS!" Once Sora started yelling, it was hard to stop.

"Too loud."

"EARS! WHAT YOU ARE SAYING SOUNDS NOTHING LIKE EARS!"

"Too loud!"

"EEEEEEEEEAR!" He'd been pretty loud, but maybe Riku was still losing the nuance.

"How do I get you to stop screeching? That's too high a pitch for me, Sora."

"YES, I'M SORA! GOOD JOB RIKU. NOW SAY EAR!"

"Pretty Sora?"

"NOT THIS AGAIN. NO, SORA NOT PRETTY. RIKU PRETTY. PRETTY RIKU. SAY EAR FOR ME, PRETTY RIKU!"

"Too loud!" Riku was bending down again so their foreheads almost touched.

"TOO LOUD? DO YOU WANT ME TO COPY YOU? TOO LOUD! WHAT IS THAT?" Sora switched between English and mermish.

Riku sighed heavily and leaned back. "Sora, please stop screaming at me. I can hear you perfectly fine. How can I make you understand?"

"IT'S OKAY. I STILL LIKE YOU, RIKU, EVEN IF YOU CAN'T SAY EAR," Sora encouraged.

There was a long moment of silence as both boys tried to think of the best way to be understood. Sora wracked his brain for any human words he'd overheard Roxas say.

"Kiss?"

That was the wrong word. The human's chest was as still as it had been when Sora needed to press the water out of it. Come to think of it, his color was retreating too, leaving him the same sickly pale as when he'd been waterlogged.

"DO YOU NEED MORE AIR AGAIN?" Sora tried to push himself out of the water, intent on blowing air into Riku's mouth like he had while he'd been unconscious.

Riku scrambled backward to the center of the rock.

Great. Another setback. They'd figure out this communication thing sooner or later.

#mermay #soriku #sora #riku #kingdom hearts #mermaid au that needs a name #my sokai shows a bit #mermaid au stories

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sserpente · 5 years ago

Photo

A/N: Request from anon. I loved the concept… and then I couldn’t stop writing and it went so well with some other ideas I had and it escalated and ahhh, you guys were supposed to get this Imagine three days ago. Anyway… enjoy reading! ♥ Words: 4628 (oops) Warnings: gore/blood, fluff (the combination doesn’t sound right, now does it)

Here’s an extra warning: I got a bit inspired by “Coriolanus” so there will be a very bloody and graphic scene… stuff I usually don’t write myself. As I said though, I really got inspired by the play so I just went along with it, if anything to not repeat myself with this one scene we all hate so much. It thus also might rip open the wounds Infinity War caused. Therefore, the scene will be marked with “*” at the beginning and the end in case you prefer to skip it.

“It’s a myth.”

“It’s not a myth. They are omens of death.” Thor argued. Grinning smugly, he leaned back and took a sip of his beer.

Tony buried his face in his hands. “You know I started believing in many things when you fell out of the sky to help us fight aliens but… there’s a line. ‘Black angels’? With shimmering wings? Please, Point Break.”

“Well, you wouldn’t know. They say only those before their imminent death can see their wings.”

“Have you ever seen an angel then?”

“No! I told you, they are omens of death. Volstagg’s father… he saw one. He swore he did. One week after, he perished.”

“Coincidence.”

Loki rolled his eyes. He had known before that mortals were ignorant and refused to face reality, Stark’s stubbornness however surprised even him. Many creatures shared their stories in the Old Norse myths, stories which his mother had told him before bed when he was a child.

Angels… omens of death. Black, shimmering wings… they said whoever saw one before death, their soul would leave their body contently… that they were of such beauty it would not compare to any other being in the nine realms. As a young boy, Loki had told Frigga he wanted to see one for himself—and Frigga chided him for wishing for such an atrocious thing.

Shivering, you wrapped your black coat around yourself tighter. You had bought it from a street market for little money which you had stolen from a peasant. High up in the sky, you were never cold. You were free. Those human sensations were downright irksome.

Perhaps it was your own fault you had ended up on Midgard of all places. Stranded and stripped off most of your powers, they had cast you out and forced you to live a mortal life—knowing you would never find friends on a planet inhabited by beings that would not grow half as old as you.

Perhaps you should have joined your people when they swore their allegiance to the purple titan. But you knew you would have made the wrong decision. What Thanos wanted was impossible—and you sincerely hoped he would fail. His lackeys were already spreading dread, fear and death across the planet. You had seen them lurking about, watching his evil plans unfold and wreak havoc when it was fun.

A high-pitched scream ripped you from your thoughts. Turning straight on your heel to see what had caused it, your instincts kicked in. Altruistically saving humans wasn’t high on your priority list, kicking Thanos’ monkeys’ arse, however, was. It felt good to ram your poisoned dagger into their hearts… and it least gave you some satisfaction.

You frowned when you reached the dimly lit alley, scanning the area to analyse the situation. Somebody had beaten you to it. Clenching your fists, you recognised both Tony Stark and Captain America along with a raven-haired man with a sharp jawline and the most stunning blue eyes you had ever seen—Loki, God of Mischief.

Thanos’ lackeys were nowhere in sight. Instead, what part of the Avengers… and Loki put up with was a dirty burglar who seemed to have tried to rob a young woman who was currently shaking on the cold ground like autumn leaves in the wind.

“Are you alright, Miss?” You heard Steve Rogers ask her humbly, all the while the burglar—terrified for his life—scrambled to his feet, abandoning the knife he had held. Loki rolled his eyes. With but one effortless movement, he kicked him in the stomach the moment he attempted to run and proceeded to grab his collar to lift him off the ground.

“Please, please… please don’t kill me!” The burglar whimpered. You suppressed a chuckle.

“Let him go, Reindeer Games.”

“Let him go? What did we intervene for? Mercy? I disagree…”

“Nope. FRIDAY has already saved his fingerprints and appearance. The police will get him soon enough. Now let him go. I think he peed his pants.”

Loki’s face distorted when he spotted the wet spot between the burglar’s legs. Disgusted, he did as he was told and threw him back to the ground. He swallowed thickly before hurrying away clumsily. Then, he looked up—and his blue eyes locked with yours.

Paralysed, he captured you in his both scrutinising and fascinated gaze. Your lips parted when you realised that he could see your wings. Dark, shimmering and as soft as a crow’s feather dress they framed your form—petite compared to his—and complimented both your (Y/H/C) hair and (Y/E/C) eyes. You were beautiful.

Neither of you paid attention to the young woman who had stood again by now, approaching Loki timidly. Her ‘thank you’ went unnoticed even when Steve called his name.

“Who are you?” You blinked, reluctantly tearing your eyes away from Loki’s to face Tony Stark.

“(Y/N)… my name is (Y/N). I am what other beings would refer to as… a black angel.”

Tony snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

One heated discussion after your confession led to another and Captain America and Iron Man—for Loki had remained completely silent—decided to take you back to the compound to speak to Thor. You did not take kindly in spilling your secret to strangers. Hundreds of years ago, humans, Asgardians and other species had hunted you down for amusement, using poison to make your wings visible and cutting them off to sell them on the black market—an ironic name, really.

But this… was different. Loki—the Loki, God of Mischief and Lies, Trickster… son of Laufey and Farbauti and Prince of Asgard—he could see your wings. Legends had been told about connections alike. They said that every living black angel in this universe served a purpose, was meant to follow a path and fulfil its destiny—and to be with one person who loved them dearly for the rest of their existence. Only those that fate chose to be a black angel’s partner would be able to see their wings—to see all of them—in their full glory and true beauty. Loki’s blue eyes were practically glued on you; and if you were not mistaken, there was a hint of panic glistening in his irises too.

Did he feel the connection, perhaps? That you seemed to have found the man your heart would likely belong to for the rest of your life? Strangely enough, you felt… oddly exposed. Only other black angels had ever been able to see your gift, unwillingly sharing it with someone you had but heard of and never met made you vulnerable… and it made you self-conscious.

“How exactly did you end up here on Earth?” Thor leaned forward, crossing his arms on the vast glass table in the middle of the conference room. Around him, the remaining Avengers which you had not officially met yet, squinted suspiciously in a desperate attempt to spot your wings as well. One of them—you believed he was called Rhodey—had even examined your back but found nothing.

“I was… banished. My own people abandoned me because I refused to join the new force.”

“Does that force answer to the name of Thanos by any chance?” Tony tossed in. You nodded.

“You have heard of him. He means to wipe out half of the universe. We have to stop him whatever it takes.”

You could feel Loki’s presence behind you. He was still silent, pacing up and down the room like a cunning predator waiting to strike.

“How do we know we can trust you?”

“You don’t. I am merely warning you. I don’t have the powers to stop him but you might. And I certainly did not ask to be invited to your humble home.” You snapped. They were hostile towards you, you could tell. Something about you unsettled them. If only you knew what it was.

Be that as it may, the Avengers decided to let you stay for a while. They hadn’t locked you in a room but if you were to try and leave without anyone accompanying you… then the Norns beware.

You sighed. You should have never mentioned you were a black angel, pretended to be human instead… pretended that Loki was hallucinating. His eyes had made you forget all reason. The invisible force pulling you to him was destructive. You wanted to be close to him, be with him, be there for him… lay your life, soul and heart in his hands… all the while he seemed to painstakingly ignore you.

You barely knew but you could sense that Loki was everything you could ever wish for. An intelligent, powerful, cunning and charming man, tall, blue-eyed and so outrageously handsome he even outshone his brother Thor. You had never spoken to him personally and yet, you felt like you would die for him. Now what if he never reciprocated those feelings? Tragic stories were told about black angels who found love and yet had to live without it.

At the very least, so you figured, you had access to a fully furnished kitchen tonight. It was your first warm supper in two weeks and bit more nourishing than a mere apple or a handful of nuts. It was almost midnight now and hunger had gotten the better of you… or maybe it was the prosperity of food being available to you at any time without you having to steal hard-earned money for it first.

Passing through the hallway, your tread entirely mute, you stopped dead in your tracks when you heard two familiar voices talking in the living room.

“Big… imposing… no, I did not imagine it, Thor. They were there. A pair of shimmering black wings…” Loki sounded worried, yet you could tell he was trying hard not to let it show. He had already seemed to have panicked a little when he first laid his eyes upon you.

“So what do we do?”

“I don’t know.”

“How much time do you have left?”

“I don’t know, Thor.”

“Don’t you… worry, brother… I’m sure everything’s gonna work out fine.”

There was a moment of awfully painful silence. Then, somebody left.

Frowning, you knocked. You were unsure of what they had been talking about. Loki’s expression darkened when he spotted you entering the room shyly, his eyes focused on the wings on your back.

“You… seem to be avoiding me, Loki. Have I… done something?”

Loki smirked—it was bitter. Now that he had told Thor, by tomorrow… they would all know he was going to die soon.

“You have not, dear. It is not something you did. It is your purpose.” Your heart skipped a beat. You had not expected such an honest answer.

“My purpose? I don’t have a purpose here on Midgard.” His eyes were ice cold when he looked up to meet your gaze.

“You are an omen of death.”

Your lips parted. “I am… I am not.”

“No man who sees a black angel’s wings survives. I can see yours.”

“B-but… but that… you’re not going to die.”

His bitter smile returned. “We are facing Thanos. If I was doubtful about my fate before, I am no longer now.”

“Loki, that’s not what it means…” It felt like your heart was shattering, to a million tiny little pieces. He thought you were his death… no wonder he felt uneasy around you. Where had that stupid superstition come from? Why would you be an omen of death?

You longed to tell him what it really meant. Only right now, in this very moment, it did not feel right. Would he even believe you? Probably not.

“Good night, Loki.”

When you returned to your room, you sent your pillow flying through the air all the while suppressing a scream of anger.

The following days were equally frustrating. Loki seemed to be avoiding you at all cost and even Thor and the others only spoke to you when it was absolutely necessary. They were scared. All of them. Dreading that at some point, they might see your wings too. You had already given up attempting to explain it to them. There were much more important things to take care of.

Figuring out your own feelings, for example. It was impossible to love someone you had just met, even for black angels… right? The invisible force linking you to Loki’s body and mind was so strong it almost physically ached to not be near him. You were worried. Loki thought he was going to die. It was obvious he had a past with Thanos, one that was about to catch up with him.

You had your dagger—it was the least you could fight with to protect his life. After all, that one superstition was indeed true. Yet when you stood in front of him, the purple titan who had stolen away your people, and the black angels you had thought of as friends and family… you were terrified.

All of them were ready to fight. Man against man, woman against woman and you… somewhere in between. You had never agreed to destroy him, had never promised to help. It was not in your nature to intervene in such things; even though you would not exactly call yourself a pacifist, wars held a bitter connotation. All you cared about was Loki—even if he did not care about you.

Proudly and arrogantly, he lifted his chin in pure defiance. You could feel he was anxious. His heart was beating so fast your own almost stopped. Thanos wanted the Tesseract—and Loki was denying he was in its possession.

The whole Avengers compound had become a bloody battlefield. There was debris, there were screams and the sounds of metal clashing. Clutching your dagger tighter, you watched how Thor was hurled through the air and landed on the hard ground.

“We don’t have the Tesseract! It was destroyed on Asgard!” He growled, spitting a mouthful of blood into the grass before two of Thanos’ lackeys managed to restrain him.

Loki briefly closed his eyes, guiltily. One single moment of negligence—and enough for Thanos to grab his head forcefully and throw him on the ground before Ebony Maw’s feet.

Loki gasped in pain but the ugly sorcerer did not hesitate. He raised his hands, fingers crooked… only to send shockwaves of agony through his blood. As a Frost Giant… the heat pumping through his veins was pure torture.

“The Tesseract…” Thanos remarked, seemingly unimpressed. Your eyes widened. Loki really had it. Of course he had it.

“Please, stop…” You heard yourself whisper, the pain he felt cursing through your own body. Only yours wasn’t physical. “Stop it! The Tesseract is not here. Let him live. Whatever he has done in the past, he did it to survive, wouldn’t you do the same?”

“He disappointed me,” the titan argued. “He failed.”

“We all do. It was not his fault. Look around you. Look at your forces fighting against a bunch of mortals. If they are having difficulties defeating them now, then how would you expect Loki to do it all on his own?”

Loki’s stunning blue eyes widened upon hearing your words. He kept grunting, growling and panting as Maw intensified the spell, making you panic slightly.

“I am not merciful, little one. If I were, I wouldn’t be where I am standing now.”

“You… don’t have to be.” You swallowed. “His life in exchange for mine. I shall serve you if you let him live.”

“Why would I want your allegiance?”

“I am an angel, too.”

Thanos raised his eyebrows.

“You would give your freedom to save him? Him?”

“Yes.” Blinking frantically to scare away the tears in your eyes, you watched the titan nod slowly. With a start, Ebony Maw stopped, earning him another pant from Loki. In his ugly hands… he held the Tesseract.

“You have a good heart, little one. Unfortunately… I don’t like being lied to.”

*It happened fast, almost too fast for you to comprehend. Thanos’ sword slashed through the cold air and Loki’s neck, blood spurting from the freshly cut wound and staining his skin and armour. His blue eyes closed, the downright repulsive sounds of him choking on his own blood filling your ears.

Then, he stopped moving, the red liquid still pouring from his neck.*

You screamed, both in pain and indescribable grief when Loki’s heart stopped beating. He had been right. You had been his very personal omen of death.

You didn’t sleep. You didn’t eat. You didn’t speak. Thanos was gone, two Infinity stones along with him. And while the Avengers were busy figuring out a plan to stop him once and for all, you spent your time sulking away in your room, your eyes red and swollen from the many tears you shed for the man you had never had a chance to love.

You had meant to save him. Loki had trusted you to seal his fate and when you had attempted to lay down your own life so he would survive, you had caused the exact opposite. It wasn’t your fault, not really and yet… it felt like it.

It felt like your heart had been ripped in pieces, like Thor had driven his beloved hammer into your chest repeatedly and shattered all of your ribs.

Dead. You had found the one man your poor existence as a god damn black angel had made sense for, the one man who could have made you happy. And now he was dead.

You were ready to do anything to get him back. And so you were plotting.

Whether Thor was grieving, you did not know. But you had heard of Ragnarok, the destruction of his home world, of Asgard, the realm of the gods. Hela had wreaked havoc and claimed the throne. Hela, the goddess of death… Hela, who could resurrect the dead and bring them back to life.

“Tony.” Your voice carried only feinted politeness. You simply did not care how worn out he was, noodling around in his lab. Neither did you care that Thor did not even look up when you entered.

“Can I speak to Thor, please? In private?”

He was his brother. If anyone was going to help you bring Loki back, it was him. Thor had complained about having lost Loki before. That he had thought him dead before. Whether he could not accept he was truly gone this time or had simply moved on, you could not tell. But you sincerely hoped Loki was important enough for him, worthy of saving.

The God of Thunder looked up, his brows raised in surprise. Nodding mutely, he stood and left the room, allowing you to close the door to Tony’s lab behind you.

“There is a way to bring Loki back alive.” You stated straight away, swallowing thickly. Thor crossed his arms before his chest, a defensive posture.

“What do you mean?”

“Loki is not in Valhalla, his soul did not… ascend. He should have been… he would not give Thanos the Tesseract to Thanos, he was enduring torture, he… wanted to save you. All of you, stop the titan himself. That… that means…” Again, you swallowed, forcing back the tears forming in your eyes. “It means he is in Hel. I’ve been there before, black angels… we are immune to… well, it doesn’t matter. But… the goddess of death. Hela, she could…”

“No.”

“What?”

“No.” Thor repeated sternly. “Hela is my sister. She caused the destruction of Asgard, she killed my friends and hundreds of innocent Asgardians.”

“I have heard the stories… but Thor, Loki is your brother.”

“Do you truly think she will resurrect him without asking for something in return? We barely managed to banish her again, I will not risk the subjugation of the nine… the eight realms.”

Angrily, you narrowed your eyes at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“If Thanos gets a hold of the remaining Infinity Stones, say goodbye to the entire universe. He will be ten times worse than Hela. If anyone can help you defeat him, it’s your brother. Your brother, Thor.”

Why did he hesitate? As a black angel, you had never had brothers or sisters but if you did… if you did you would love and cherish them dearly. Did Thor not love Loki? Did he not love him as much as Loki loved Thor? You could see it in his eyes. Loki had a good heart, vulnerable and tainted but good.

“Why would you want to bring him back? You don’t know him. Loki’s been dead before, if it’s true this time… it is what it is.” Thor mumbled. “Look, (Y/N)… Loki is dead because of you. Your appearance… it was the sign… there is no way around that.”

“That’s bullshit, Thor,” you snapped. All of a sudden, the truth spilled from your lips uncontrollably. “I’m not an omen of death, who came up with this? Loki was the only one who can see my wings because he was meant to be my soul mate. I… I fell in love with him the moment I first looked him in the eye. I was going to sacrifice my life to save him, those were not empty words, you heard them!”

Thor paused. “That’s… impossible. All my life… I grew up believing black angels were deadly.”

“We can be. My blades of my daggers are drowned in poison but we do not promise death to those we show our wings to. It wasn’t my decision, Thor. Please… help me bring your brother back.” This time, you were unable to hold back your tears. Sobbing quietly, they ran over your reddened cheeks.

The God of Thunder took a deep breath.

“I can take you to the portal. The rest is up to you. But if you endanger this realm by setting Hela free, you will live with the consequences because we will kill you. I have to protect these people, (Y/N).”

Determined, you nodded. “I will make this right, Thor. I promise.”

The portal was a church. At least, it looked like a church. Home of the angels… you snorted. If only you could live in a richly decorated church. The more you approached, the more of the dead energy did you feel. Helheim was near.

You had a plan, of course. It was risky and bold and perhaps a bit reckless… but at least, it was a plan. Thor had held his promise and he made sure to stay until you returned—with or without Loki.

Then, with one final deep breath—for there was no reason to breathe in Helheim—you stepped over the threshold of Durham Cathedral and disappeared into nowhere, an invisible force sucking you into another realm.

The stench of death filled your nose before you had even opened your eyes again, corpses, skeletons and bloody soil staining the dark landscape. Like you had expected, your presence in the realm of the dead as a living being did not go unnoticed.

“I’ve met black angels before. But they were dead.” Hela’s voice echoed through the minging air, her blue eyes, complimented by dark coal, boring into yours.

“I came to warn you.”

“Warn me? Child… Look around you… this place is dead. What do I have to fear?”

“Thanos. He means to wipe out half of the universe. Killing half of every single living being.”

Hela raised her eyebrows, seemingly unimpressed.

“Where do you think will most of these souls go? Half the universe… crammed in one realm. Your realm.”

“The Gauntlet. He has it then.”

“And he is collecting the stones. There is a force on Midgard… across the universe to stop him. They need all the help they can get.”

It was then the goddess of death began to smile cruelly. “Who is it you want me to resurrect?”

“How familiar are you with the powers of black angels?”

Hela shrugged. “They are meant to find their soul mates, the only beings they unwillingly reveal their true nature to.” As the goddess of death, she knew a lot more than the rest of the Asgardians then.

You nodded. “My powers were taken from me when I was cast out. They will return once I am reunited with mine.” That was a lie. But if Hela was Thor’s sister, you could imagine she did not exactly take a liking into Loki. “I need you to return Loki to the living. We stop Thanos, we stop this realm from destruction. And we both know that even Helheim could not take the masses of murderers and villains once the titan snaps his fingers.”

Snarling, she turned her scrutinising gaze away from you. “Loki?” She snorted. “You know what? Take him. Take that little cockroach and leave. Hel will be better off without his smug remarks.”

You were almost surprised by how calm you managed to speak with her. The prosperity of seeing Loki again filled your broken heart with joy and love, even if the God of Mischief himself, so you imagined, would hardly feel the same.

Hela narrowed her eyes. With but a flick of his wrist, she summoned Loki like a demon. Your heart skipped a beat when you spotted him. He did not look harmed, the atrocious wound on his neck luckily gone completely.

“I was trying to sleep. Forewarn me before you—“ Loki stopped his mocking complaint mid-sentence. His lips parted when he saw you—that’s when you had already thrown yourself into his arms and buried your face in his neck, inhaling his wonderful scent and enjoying the touch of his body, beginning to heal you instantly.

“Husband…” You murmured, knowing that Hela was still watching you intently.

Loki froze. “What?”

“Just play along. Please… I’m gonna get you out of here.” You whispered mutely. Then, you timidly pressed your lips against his, triggering an explosion of chemistry between you. You almost flinched… and apparently, Loki felt the same.

Hela rolled her eyes in a disgusted manner. Clearly, she was convinced. “Leave. Make sure not to return.” She flicked her wrists once more, almost as if taking a spell on Loki—whatever had been necessary to allow him to travel through the portal and back to the living.

Confidently, you reached for his hand, a touched smile spreading on your lips when he accepted it and followed you back to Midgard and into Durham Cathedral.

“Husband?” He repeated, ignoring Thor who received him with his mouth wide open.

“There is a lot of explaining I need to do, I’m afraid.” You began apologetically.

“Indeed.” He was still holding your hand, not pulling away. It filled your chest with a cosy warmth which you had never felt before.

“You… only you can see my wings.”

“I still do.”

“You… you can because… because I am your soul mate. I never was an omen of death, Loki. I.. love you.”

The God of Mischief’s face fell.

“What you said to Thanos… you did attempt to…” You nodded quickly.

“I… I had to try. Contacting Hela, convincing her to resurrect you…”

“Thank you.” He interrupted, looking you deep in the eye. It was surprise which you found sparkling in those blue irises. Surely… never had anyone done this for him. Surely, nobody else would have done this for him. Thor still went ignored.

“I… I can understand if you… if you don’t want me to stay. I can leave. Being my soul mate, it doesn’t… it doesn’t link you to me if you don’t want to.”

Your heart jumped when Loki began to smirk mischievously... but genuinely.

“Oh no, my dear. I think I am going to keep you.”

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on KoFi! kofi.com/sserpente

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ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 5 years ago

Note

ok first of all you are absolutely brilliant at capturing jaskier!! every time you write him, it just screams canon jaskier. you are an amazing writer!! this is going to be an odd request, but i would adore an au of sorts where jaskier is a prince who falls for a siren?? honestly the siren could have good or horrible intentions. i just need some prince!jaskier in my life 😂 thank you for providing so much for the fandom!! seeing your imagines literally makes my day

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Jaskier x Reader Word Count: 1,910 Rating: T Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @kemmastan @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract @your-not-invisible-to-me @mycat-is-mylove @amirahiddleston a/n: I did a little twist but I promise Jaskier is still a prince and reader is still a siren. I hope you like it!

Jaskier sat on the algae covered rocks and closed his eyes, letting the crash of the waves and the briney scent wash over him and drown out his worries. Another day, another fight with his parents. He understood their frustration. He’d promised to take a wife when he returned from his travels with Geralt but he’d become a changed man since that trip. Changed in more ways than they could ever understand, should ever know. He knew his decision to spurn marriage meant the kingdom would fall to another House but it wasn’t worth the trade. He had never enjoyed being a Prince. Well, that was a lie. He enjoyed the parties and privilege and having a captive audience for his performances (though he’d had those when he was undercover with Geralt as well, he’d have you know). But the responsibility and the legacy and everything else was never of interest. He would rule after his father’s passing, unless his father made good on his threats to disinherit him which frankly at this point he’d welcome, but with Jaskier’s passing, so passed the Pankratz line of command.

“Oh lonely one, what brings you to the sea?”

The voice was clear and beautiful, unlike any he’d ever heard before, and Jaskier opened his eyes to look for who made it. The sea was calm and for a moment all he heard were gulls and waves and all he saw was water and rocks and he’d almost convinced himself it was a trick of the wind when he heard it again.

“Prince Julian Alfred Pankratz,” the voice came again. Jaskier climbed to his feet to get a better look but the rock was slippery and he fell. Growing up by the sea had made him a strong swimmer and he was quickly able to reorient himself and began to rise towards the surface again. When his head broke through the water, a woman sat on the rock, smiling at him strangely.

“Where did you come from?” Jaskier asked, climbing onto another rock nearby. He took off the soaking doublet and let it fall with a wet thwack onto the rock. His undershirt clung to him and the woman eyed him appreciatively for a moment before speaking again.

“You are so filled with sorrow, young prince,” you said.

“Well right now I’m filled with saltwater and questions,” he replied. You blinked in confusion and cocked your head as you considered him, trying to puzzle something out. He began to feel nervous under your scrutiny and was about to ask why you were staring at him like that when you laughed.

“What?”

“You’re not human, are you?” you said, but it wasn’t really a question. Jaskier’s heartrate began to quicken. He’d never shared what had happened with anyone but Geralt.

“Are you?” he retorted.

“No,” you said simply. Now it was Jaskier’s turn to be in shock. He didn’t doubt that you were telling the truth but he’d never known someone to be so open about not being what they seemed.

“What are you?” he asked.

“A siren,” you said, extending your arm across the rocks towards him. He eyed you hand skeptically.

“If I were going to drown you I would’ve done it already,” you assured him, but he still kept his hands to himself. “So, what are you?”

“Are you going to try and kill me?” he asked.

“No, you’re far too interesting,” you answered with an enigmatic smile that to any other would have been irresistible. He nodded and then climbed off the rock. You watched silently as he made his way back towards the village, not looking away until he’d gone out of sight.

-----

The next time the two of you met it was him who sought you out. He couldn’t get you out of his head. He’d heard all about sirens. They were the monsters of his childhood stories, compelled by the need to murder unsuspecting men. But you hadn’t murdered him and you’d had more than enough chances. He knew that Geralt would’ve wrung his neck for seeking you out like this, but he didn’t care. He had questions.

He found you where he knew you’d be, hanging around the rocks. He saw you wearing a familiar doublet over your flowing dress and when he got close enough he knew you could tell he was there (though you kept your gaze on the horizon), he propped his hands on his hips and fixed you with a censuring expression.

“I’d wondered where that doublet had gone,” he said. You finally looked his way, a coy smile on your lips.

“You left it behind when you so rudely walked away mid-conversation. It seemed a waste to let the gulls take it away for their nesting,” you said. He smiled and moved closer, perching on the rock he had a few evenings past.

“How do I know you won’t tell someone,” he asked. He’d held the secret for so long, the idea of sharing it with someone and unburdening himself was more than tempting.

“Did you tell anyone you’d met a siren?” you asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Well, they wouldn’t believe me for one thing. And for another, it felt wrong,” he replied. You smiled at him in a way that told him he’d provided his own answer. No one would believe you, and it felt wrong.

“I’m an incubus,” he said finally. You opened your mouth to accuse him of lying but when you looked into his pale, sky-blue eyes you knew that they held nothing but truth. He watched and waited for your response, more nervous than he’d expected that you’d spurn him or tell him he was a monster.

“I suppose that explains why my abilities don’t work on you,” you said instead, “But… how? Where you born this way?”

“No, I was born a normal human. I left with a friend on a journey, there was a whole situation involving someone who was possessed, I don’t really remember all the particulars but the end result is that I am an incubus. A demon of seduction,” he explained, reciting the story like it was a jaunt to the market instead of a lifechanging paranormal incident.

“Well that must be… odd,” you said, not sure of what else to say, “Bet it makes parties more fun.”

“Quite the contrary,” Jaskier said ruefully.

“But all of the women at court must already be interested, what with your station and your handsomeness,” you argued.

“I haven’t been with anyone since before this happened and I will not be with anyone again,” he said, his tone solemn, “I can’t trust that they’d be acting of their own accord and I won’t place anyone in the position of being coerced.”

“That’s very noble of you but what of the necessary heirs?” you asked.

“There will be no heirs.”

Jaskier felt as though he were back with his parents and you saw the heaviness of his decision weighing on him. You said nothing for a bit, letting the sea’s crashing and the gulls squalling fill the air.

“You’re not what most would expect, Julian,” you said, a newfound respect in your voice. He smiled softly and turned his gaze back to you again and you noticed how his eyes and the water around you shared the same hue, and much of the same depth.

“Jaskier,” he said, “My friends call me Jaskier.”

You smiled and he noted the way the sunlight caught in your hair and freckles from the sun around your nose and cheeks. Softly fading, but still there when the light was just right.

“Jaskier,” you echoed, “You can call me Y/N.”

-----

You spent quite a few evenings like that whenever he could get away. He convinced you to go with him to town a few times. You usually avoided it, not liking the effect you could have on people if you weren’t focused on preventing it, but for him it was worth it. People perked up and showed interest but Jaskier’s attention was soon the only kind you sought. You knew he wasn’t beguiled by your ways, just by you. It was a feeling unlike any you’d ever felt before. Jaskier felt himself grow closer to you. If a day passed where for some reason the two of you couldn’t be together it felt wrong, like something was missing. It wasn’t just that he could talk about his strange new identity, it was that he didn’t have to wonder if the way you glanced at his mouth or the soft press of your hand against his was because of something beyond his control. You were always in control of what you did and said and felt and it gave him a feeling of relief and freedom that he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

One evening the two of you were watching the sun set on what had started out terrible and ended wonderfully. Jaskier had gotten into a horrible fight with his parents and been given news. His father’s health was failing. The one thing his father wanted before he passed was to ensure that his line was secured and it was the one thing Jaskier couldn’t give him. He’d cried to you about his guilt and his anger and you’d held him as he cried, stroking his chestnut hair and when he moved to look back up at you, your lips had accidentally brushed. The next time they touched was intentional as Jaskier and you moved in tandem towards each other to bring your lips together again, and again, and again. Now you lay together and though there was still hell waiting him back home, he felt there could be no sweeter heaven than lying here in your arms by the sea.

“What if you did take a queen?” you asked, voicing the thoughts you’d been pondering for some time.

“You know why I can’t, my powers…”

“What if you took a queen who wasn’t affected by your powers?”

You shifted to look at him, your eyes meeting and helping to communicate what you were trying to say. He considered your words for a moment and then the confusion cleared from his face, replaced by hopeful excitement.

“Would you… would you really?” he asked breathlessly.

“Of course I would,” you said, “I love you, Jaskier. I’ve never loved someone as I love you and I don’t think I ever could.”

“Are you sure you want to be queen?” he asked, “I don’t want to thrust any responsibilities on you that you don’t want. I want nothing more but only if you want it just as much. All of it.”

You sat up and moved to sit in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck as you leaned your face closer to him, your eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Oh darling,” you purred, “I was born to rule.”

-----

The wedding of Prince Julian to an unknown commoner was a matter of great scandal and surprise but his parents had been so relieved that he’d agreed to take a wife and continue the line they didn’t fuss. All other concerns were forgotten as more and more people met the couple. Their parties were legendary and their rulings were fair, aided by their choice to have two advisors, one witcher and one mage. The kingdom was able to rest peacefully as led by their strikingly charming new King

#Anonymous #jaskier x reader #Prince!Jaskier x Siren!Reader #jaskier imagines #jaskier fluff

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the-ship-maker-2 · 4 years ago

Text

The Shadow Queen (book 1)

This is the first book in my series that I'm writing. Its entirely original and all of these characters are mine.

Rated:M for mature. There's some strong language in here so if you're sensitive please don't read it.

Warning(s): character death and violence. If you're sensitive please do not read and I'm not saying who it is.

Summary: Two demon princes from the underworld of Hell go up to the forbidden land of the living (Earth) on a loose trail of a prophecy that could potentially change Hell for better or for worse. What happens when they find the main part of the prophecy? A human infant no more than six months old baring the gift of The Sight. A rare gift that is naturally born with. Could this be what they're looking for?

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

Prologue

"Are you sure about this?", asked the demon prince, Kael as he eyed the baby in its crib in a mixture of distrust and disgust with his golden brown eyes.

He didn't like humans as it was especially live ones and especially tiny ones. There was just something about tiny humans that made him automatically distrust them. They were always planning something. Also humans dead or alive were always useless and primitive, far less superior then he and his friend was.

"I'm positive I wouldn't have pulled so many strings just to drag you up here for nothing", said his friend Jorggon,"this is the one Satan himself said that this was the one" he picked up the infant that was already squirming in its crib.

"Right but are you sure we can trust him? I mean he could be wrong. We could be wrong. I mean we came all the way up to Earth for that?", Kael gestured to the baby in Jorggon's arms.

"I have no reason to believe that he would misinform us. I mean what reason would he have to lie to us? You just don't like the fact that she's not all grown up so she can take care of what she needs to take care of now. You were always so impatient", said Jorggon as he stuck his tongue out at him and went back to smiling at the baby.

Kael sighed and crossed his arms and looked away. They have always been complete opposites. He has always been a warrior type. Which explains his muscular well toned body structure. Rough and tumble style, fight or die attitude. Jorggon was more of an intellectual type with a lean body. Jorggon's pale skin made him look like a ghost in the infant's dark room. Even in his shadowy mist form he was easy to pick out. Whereas Kael had a dark tan complexion. It made him even harder to pick out in the pitch black room. And in his shadowy mist form; everyone will be none the wiser.

He took a moment to really take in the room around him. The room was pitch black. You could only make out a shape that was most likely a dresser. The walls were bare white and the crib was made out of oak wood with a mattress in it and on the side of the wall that the crib was pushed up against had what he assumed to be the baby's name hung up. The floor was made of unfurnished creaky wood that was gray and black from the dirt and the old age of the house that they were in.

The room was plain and bare. Most likely the infant's family didn't have much to work with. They were poor.

"We're just lucky that the princess is only an infant for now like that thing over there and who the hell names their child Talura?", Kael pointed to the name hanging up on the wall.

"Apparently her parents", said Jorggon,"pay no mind to him Tal". He nuzzled the baby.

"You're giving it nicknames now?!", he exclaimed exasperated and in disbelief.

The baby giggled and looked up at Jorggon into his pale blue eyes with her unnaturally wide blue-green eyes. Taking in all his features.

"This is definitely the one", confirmed Jorggon.

"How do you know?", asked Kael unsurely.

He handed baby Talura over to Kael as she had a fistful of his curly blonde locks. Kael retreated further into himself practically hissing.

"I'm not holding that thing!", he refused.

"Stop shouting you'll wake up her parents! Wait where are they anyways? Normally parents run into their children's bedrooms if they hear their children in the night" Jorggon whispered hissed.

"They're either heavy sleepers or very neglectful", huffed Kael,"besides we can easily cloak ourselves in our shadow form and no one will be able to hear us. We can do that you know"

"Stop being a little bitch and hold Tal and look at her eyes", said Jorggon getting annoyed holding the baby out for Kael to take.

Kael sighed and reluctantly took the child. He held her out away from him and inspected it suspiciously.

"What's so special about this thing? She seems relatively healthy. There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with her. There's no way that she could possibly be- oh my dear sweet darkness", he realized in thought.

Those eyes. Those eyes. Those eyes.

He couldn't look away even if he wanted to. His golden brown eyes met her blue green ones. But they were so unnaturally wide. She was definitely going to get bullied for that as she grows up. But he was sure that she could deal with it when the time came. Her eyes were like windows to the soul and right now she was still so very still. She looked at him with her mouth slightly agape. He sucked in his breath not daring to make a sound or move. Then she suddenly broke into a smile and a fit of giggles. She reached her hands out trying to grab his slicked back dark chocolate brown hair.

"Ah ah I ain't falling for that one", he told her as he held her out as far away from him as possible. "Here take her back and put her in her crib please".

"Do you believe me now?" He took her back and gently laid her back down.

Kael nodded, "she's gifted, she has The Sight. Not many people are born with that. Normally they either get it by sacrifice or after death. She is The Sight part of the prophecy"

"You know we're both going to have to train her how to use The Sight", said Jorggon as he looked back at him.

"I know but you know I can't do much", said Kael softly as he looked down.

"Then do what you can when you can", said Jorggon as he ran his hand over baby Talura's head and to her temples and whispered a spell to make her sleep.

Baby Talura yawned and her eyes were beginning to get droopy. Satisfied with his work he turned to Kael.

"We should get back before you get into trouble".

He turned into a mass of shadowy mist and went through the wall. He popped back out.

"You coming?", he prodded.

Kael nodded.

"Yeah in just a few minutes"

He shrugged his shoulders "okay just don't stay too long".

And with that he disappeared into the wall. That just leaves Kael alone.

He walked over to baby Talura's crib quietly, careful not to disturb her. He looked down at her sleeping figure. Her head leaning to the right and her arms up, her chest slowly rising and falling as she's taking rhythmic shallow breaths.

He took a deep breath.

He looked down at her with pity. She was destined to be a coward. With that she wouldn't be able to survive in either Earth or Hell. It was unlikely that she would have many friends or a good family to support her.

He couldn't do much as his time was running out and he was unfortunately limited in his powers. But there was one thing that he could do although it was very risky for both him and her. If his Queen found out anything about her being part of the prophecy she would destroy her in no time. He didn't mind the punishment for himself he's willing to make that sacrifice.

But he believes in fair punishment people should get punished for their own stupidity not someone else's. He just doesn't think he can live with himself knowing that he helped ensure killing an innocent's life before it even began.

But if he wanted a hell's chance in even remotely having the prophecy come true he was going to have to risk it.

Yes he was being selfish. And he knew that but he quickly justified it with what he'll do is for her own good and he can leave with a semi clear conscious.

He looked back and forth to make sure no one was watching.

"Alright little one I'm going to do something that will only hurt for a moment but it will be for your own good and one day you'll thank me", he whispered cooed to baby Talura.

She shifted in her sleep as Kael took her tiny hand. With his other hand he took his sharp nail and poked his hand and her hand to draw blood. She began to cry.

He sucked in his breath as he felt a twang of pain in his heart as he heard her cry. For a moment he almost knew what it felt like to be a parent.

"I know, I know little one but the pain will subside soon", he whispered as he was trying to reassure the crying child.

He pushed away any feelings of guilt and pain and he got down to business. He put his bleeding hand into hers.

"I hear by swear on everything that I am and everything that I was that I give you the gift of Intuition. This will help you see what's really there and to help you make decisions based on what you think is right. I believe that I'm doing this with benevolent intent and this promise-gift is now bonded by blood and it can never be broken as a blood promise", he whispered,"And you always keep your promises"

He used his magic to heal them both and ran his hand over her head and whispered the same spell Jorggon used to make her fall asleep the first time.

By a few minutes later she was fast asleep again.

He sighed in relief but then he was overcome with worry.

"Although I gave her a gift, whether she uses it or not is on her. It could be potentially useless. And it's not an exact science. She'll need to practice and hone that just like The Sight. She's going to be wrong most of the time and not to mention people that will cut her down and try to break her….", he was letting his thoughts ramble.

He took a deep breath and shook his head to clear it. He realized that he had something that he hasn't had in a long time.

Faith.

He had faith that she'll grow up to be enough of a person and she'll practice and hone her gifts. Despite what anyone says or does. He chuckled to himself. He had quite the feeling that she'll be someone who makes their own way regardless.

Satisfied with what he did and his worried thoughts put to rest for now he really needed to get back before his Queen suspects anything. He changed into a mass of shadowy mist and went through the wall to get back. He popped back out to take one last look at the sleeping child.

He went back alone with his thoughts. He hoped that he put his faith in the right place. He hoped that he was right in what he did and thought.

And right now that's all he really can do.

Hope.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4 Years Later

It's been four years since that fateful night. Talura was a small petite child with a head full of short wavy hair that couldn't decide whether it wanted to be brown or red. She still had those unnaturally wide eyes that fluctuate from blue-green to blue-gray or to sometimes a mossy green. They framed her face in such an awkward way but when she grew into them there's no doubt that she'll be considered some form of attractive. She had fair tan skin from playing out in the sun all day. She was small for her age due to slight malnourishment but that didn't stop her from anything. She was a big ball of contradictions. She was timid yet very excitable. Bold and daring yet wary and cautious. She was a whirlpool of emotions. Jorggon thought that it was charming that she was, to put it nicely, unpredictable.

Kael on the other hand found it quite annoying. He couldn't pinpoint a pattern with her. Yet another reason why he wasn't fond of children. They were always changing and springing surprises on adults. He didn't like their unpredictableness. She was an open book but he didn't know how to read her. The one thing he could see blatantly was her emotions. He sincerely hoped that she'll grow out of that as he firmly believes that no one has the luxury to be vulnerable with their emotions in any world.

But what they could both agree upon was that they were happy that she was practicing and honing The Sight.

Jorggon was more patient than Kael was because Jorggon was there more often than he was. From the ages 1-2 Jorggon got her to take her first steps and got her to form simple, incomplete polite sentences. They taught her that she could not just simply run up to them. It took her awhile to catch on to that concept but eventually she did. She learned to wait patiently and say "come please". It wasn't guaranteed that they'll always show up to teach her that she can't always get what she wants. But most of the time they came to her. Only in their shadow form to make it easier on them. Results varied from her throwing a temper tantrum when it didn't work to her just gracefully accepting it and focusing on something else. By the ages 3-4 she learned to be patient and accept that sometimes The Sight didn't always work to the best of her ability. She started forming simplistic but more complete sentences and talked non stop. Sometimes it was about her day or what was bothering her or what was just on her mind. Although she didn't know anything about them as far as she was concerned they were just shadows that sometimes showed up and she'd talk to them. They would always take the time to listen to her however serious, dull, amusing or confusing as it may be.

Kael didn't show up often as he had other things to take care of. But when he did he was always amazed at how fast she was developing. Whether it was with her gifts or just growing up. He was always secretly proud when she learned a new skill set whether it was mundane or had to do with her actual gifts.

What he was most proud of was that she was always using his gift of Intuition. He didn't think that she fully realized that she was using it but when she gets older she'll realize it more and hopefully use it to its full potential. She was wary and cautious so she didn't get into as much trouble as other kids her age. But make no mistake that she made mistakes so she got into some trouble as that's what children do.

He was relieved that his efforts were not in vain and that was good enough to him.

Kael would never admit this to anyone especially to Jorggon, his closest and oldest friend. But he was sort of getting attached to the child. Like a reluctant big brother. He felt sorry and angry for the child. Her mother was either busy working or sleeping. I mean she always made sure that there was always food Talura could get. Bless her soul her mother was a good person but she wasn't very strong in any way. Her father on the other hand was a brute and a bully. Always beating on her mom or just neglectful towards Talura. He felt sorry for her because one of his predictions came true. She's going to have a tough home life. But hopefully the Intuition will help her stay on the right path. And he feels angry towards her parents because they won't take care of her properly and she doesn't deserve that. He almost decided to say fuck it and just bring her with him and have Jorggon take care of her. Raise her in his royalty status and give her the best life and when the time came they could fulfill the prophecy. But he always decides against it. She needs to stay here to keep her safe. It may not be a good place but it's safer than Hell. And she needs to go through all these hardships because that's just the way it has to be.

However what he has been doing to protect her somewhat is developing and casting a protective cloaking spell made specifically for her very little at a time since he's limited in what he can do. It's not much but at least she can be safe and stay under his Queen's radar until she gets distracted by something else. Just in case shit hits the fan and they can't be there to protect her.

And they both knew it would happen, it was only a matter of time…

It was just like any other night really. Kael was waiting for Jorggon at the portal gates. That's not what they're actually called. But that's what everyone identifies the place as. You just say the portal gates and immediately everyone in Hell knows what you're talking about. But like the gates and landscape the real name has long since faded away.

Don't get me wrong it used to be a beautiful place. Although all of the colors have been drained out of Hell over time. You could once tell that the gates were of gold color with vines and brambles long dead growing in between and up the bars. However, the plants still haven't completely taken over yet as you can still see through some of the bars to see what it was and what it might have been. You could see stone benches scattered throughout that was overcome by shrubs and other plants. The grass was long overdue for a cut. The trees were dead and barren. Nothing has grown on them for a long time. Most likely due to neglect the ground was stripped of its fertility and nutrients that it can no longer support any living life.

Not only was the place at one point in time breathtakingly gorgeous in some angles but it used to be a place of myth and legend. As little boys he and Jorggon used to love hearing stories about the portal gates. Legend has it that the darkness herself came here from another world through that clearing and founded Hell and the ways of the afterlife. It was said that she even taught Satan the high lord of Hell himself everything that she knew when Satan first arrived. But all of that was just myths and legends.

What can be confirmed though is that there used to be a coven of witches and warlocks that used to use this spot for their rituals, celebrations and to practice their craft. The Coven of the Earthen. Or The Earthen Witches to put it simply. It was top secret since no one really knew what they were up to. Only the very elite, rich, gifted, or intelligent could be invited and initiated to join. But no one except the people within the coven knew how to go about that. The original first generation of the coven was made up of five witches and warlocks. One for each of the main gifts that they were naturally born with. Sight which included visions (most prophets have The Sight), and can see right through people and other paranormal things. They are often truth seekers and always have the executive decision. But The Sight is the rarest gift to be naturally born with. Next, we have Hearing. They are very good listeners and make very good spies. They can truly listen to what their mind, body and soul wants hence they are very balanced in their emotions and logic. They also listen to what nature tells them if you listen closely you can hear the whispers of the wind. Next we have Touch. They are more sensual and sensitive of the bunch. With this gift they can often feel the emotions of other people and objects. They can often read people better. Next, we have Taste. Taste is very interesting. People who have this gift have a better sense of fashion and food and like to live the high class life. But they're able to sense if anything has been poisoned. Same thing with people who have the gift of smell. They follow their intuition with their nose. The original coven is made up of the top five witches and warlocks alike. They are the ones who get the executive decisions. Those gifted with Intuition and strength are below the main 5. They were the advisers. The rest were below them respectfully and they were gifted with someone else or highly intelligent. Hell's golden years.

Kael slowly frowned.

But as time went on the ruling powers in all five realms gradually became more and more corrupt and greedy and selfish. It was to the point where it even began to spill in over to the Coven of the Earthen. Instead of staying as as place of peace, prosperity and through hard work and dedication and honor, it became a place of elite greed. Anyone with money and ambition could get in. The coven became a hollow shell of its former self and so has the portal gates.

"But soon all of that would change for better or for worse", said Kael in thought as his thoughts drifted over to Talura.

They haven't checked up on her in a while. He really wasn't sure how much time has passed on Earth. The child had to be no more than five to six years of age by now give or take with how long it's been. But security has been tight around Marbleedge. Turns out Queen Victorienne was getting suspicious of Kael's and Jorgon's disappearances even though it wasn't often or for very long. But today they managed to make time for this visit.

What was beginning to worry him was that Jorggon hasn't shown up yet. It was an hour later. Normally Jorggon was the one who arrived early or they showed up on time together. Something told him that something was very wrong here. There was only one place Jorggon would be since he wasn't allowed to go out much along with Kael. Not being the one to ignore instincts and intuition he ran back to the palace and prayed to the darkness that the worst of the worse didn't happen.

"Sweet darkness not today, I knew that it was only a matter of time, but not today", he prayed in thought over and over again.

He got to the palace and to his spot where he can normally sneak in and out with ease. But the guards beat him to it.

"Halt! Kael Bloodsworth you're under arrest for committing high treason", said one of the guards as two others handled him roughly since Kael wasn't going down without a fight.

But in the end Kael was on the ground face planting the dirt with his arms tied behind his back.

"You have no proof that I committed high treason", mumbled Kael since he was in the dirt.

"I'm sorry what was that?", asked the first guard who ordered his arrest.

The guard on his right pulled his hair to make his head go up.

"I said that you have no proof that I committed high treason", said Kael through gritted teeth as he spit out the dirt.

"Oh but we do~", said a silky predatory voice coming from the shadows of the trees that he knew all too well.

"Queen Victorienne", he spat out,"should have known it was you".

Victorienne came out of the shadows. She was strikingly beautiful. She had milly pale skin with raven black hair with purple streaks in it. She had light brown almond eyes. With plump lips that she used as a sweet poison. She has a nice figure to her that would make any woman dead or alive jealous. She had curves in all the right places. She had breasts that were plump and perky but they weren't so big that they got in the way. Her ass swayed when she walked like she was harmony personified. She had on a silky sparkly black dress with it slit to the side just to tease the people as she walked by with her fair legs.

To Kael she reminded him of a cross between a viper and a black widow.

"And you should have known that you couldn't get past me. You would fail eventually it was only a matter of time", she spoke like she was scolding a child for trying to pull a prank on her.

It made him sick that she was speaking to him in such a manner because he knew the truth of what lays deep inside her nonexistent soul. Nothing but cold anger, hatred and wrath.

"Where's Jorggon?", said Kael fighting against his restraints as he got to the point.

"Oh you'll see", said Victorienne darkly smiling viciously.

She turn to the first guard,"bring him to the throne room!"

She strutted, leading the way with all of them following her.

When the got to the throne room Kael was shoved roughly down to the floor getting a face full of floor and dust. Kael coughed and struggled to at least sit up and he didn't like the sight that he saw.

"Jorggon!", yelled Kael desperately.

Jorggon snapped his head up, "Kael!"

He had his head locked in place in the guillotine with the silver blade hanging high and his hands and feet were tied.

"I'm so sorry Kael! I tried! I tried very hard but I was caught! But I-I still didn't tell her anything!",blubbered on Jorggon as he was crying.

He realised that this was the end for him.

"Shhh...it's okay you did nothing wrong I appreciate your loyalty and effort. May Hell be forever grateful", said Kael as he tried to reassure his best friend.

"He should have been loyal to me! You should have been loyal to me! Everyone should be loyal to me!", hissed Victorienne angrily.

Honestly she acts like a child when she doesn't get what she wants.

"Give me one good reason why I should give you my loyalty to someone who is unfit to rule", said Kael rather nonchalantly.

She moved fast with the speed of a viper and smacked him so hard across the face you could hear a crack. It took him a couple of minutes for him to process what happened and to move his face back to look her in the eyes.

She grabbed his chin to make damn sure he was paying attention.

"Why you should be loyal to me?", she said in disbelief, "why you should be loyal to me?". She said it a second time more loudly and angrier.

She got really close to her face,"When the Great War was over and your mother died and I ascended to the throne. I could have killed you along with her but I decided not to. I saw potential in you. You would make a fine young prince and a deadly weapon! I couldn't just leave you on the streets".

Kael spat in her face,"Don't pretend you took me in out of the kindness of your heart when you don't have one. You killed my mother just for the chance to get the throne. You only left me alive and took me in because you needed weapons a new generation of tools for your disposal".

Victorienne feigned a hurt look,"The game of power and politics is a very dangerous one. It's not my fault that your mother was too weak to win the game. Weakest links get cut off in the end your mother should have known better. And don't be like that. I gave you a friend and freedom"

"You put so many restriction spells on me that I can't even remember what they were. You limited my powers because you knew that I would become too strong and defeat you. So you couldn't take that chance. I can't go anywhere because I'm under heavy surveillance here. Tell me where's my freedom?", he looked over at Jorggon who had his eyes wide as a bunny rabbit,"as for a friend. He is also your son. You just had him so you could keep your legacy going long when you die. But he doesn't see you as a mother. He just sees you as the bitch whore that had him. Nothing more nothing less. Whereas I took the time to raise him and myself. I have always been there for him and have always been his true friend. So of course his loyalty is to me"

She looked like she wanted to snap his neck and she could in a fit of rage that was boiling inside her right now. Instead she shrugged and let go of his face.

"It doesn't matter anyways. Because if you don't tell me what he wouldn't tell me then I'll behead him. You don't want to be responsible for his death do you?, She walked over to the guillotine and put her hand on the lever

Kael hesitated for a moment. He looked down. He was put into the type of situation that he absolutely hated. Someone else was going to die for his actions. He looked at Victorienne, calculating. She was trying to leverage Jorgon's life in exchange for information.

"Selfish bitch", he thought,"sacrificing her own son to for the chance to eliminate a person who could potentially threaten her power". Although he didn't agree with the method it was indeed a smart move on her part. He had to give her that much. He decided to throw her a bone and see if he could get away with it.

"We…", he hesitated and attempted to swallow the lump in his throat that was forming,"we sneak out to the portal gates"

Jorggon let out a sigh and hung his head in defeat.

Victorienne nodded,"and why did you go to the portal gates?"

He hesitated trying to filter out what information he should give out that would be sufficient enough to spare Jorgon's life and not give out too much information that could harm Talura and still try to get the prophecy to happen.

"To...to try to fulfill the prophecy", he uttered out.

"Which prophecy?", she narrowed her eyes.

"You know…the prophecy", he looked down.

She broke out into a cold smile and slowly let out a giggle and then she went into full blown laughter.

"Are you kidding me?! Are we talking about the prophecy? The one that caused the Great War 5000 years ago?", she said in between laughs.

"The Sight, The Strength, The Hearing, The Healing, and The Touch all come together. These five things become one when a shadows circle is cast on the night of the ashen moon. Destruction and a new path of hope lie in its wake and put the wrong things to right",quoted Kael from memory.

"Oh please did you two actually think that you two could fulfill the prophecy by yourselves?"

"Actually yes",asaid Kael.

"Interesting…", she mused,"and tell me did you two actually figure out who or what else was part of the prophecy?"

He kept on looking between Victorienne and Jorggon. He didn't know what else to say that would be walking along a fine line. If he said nothing more his friend would die and it would be his fault. But if he said something that would give away Talura and then the prophecy would never happen and the vicious cycle would spread and repeat. He also believed that a few sacrifices were needed for the greater good of many. He needed to keep on trying to fulfill the prophecy so that he could change all of Hell so no one has to suffer like they did even at the cost of their lives. He just never expected it to be Jorggon. He couldn't give up. He had to keep trying for Jorgon's sake. He at least owed him that much.

He looked over at Jorggon with eyes that said "I'm so sorry". Jorggon craned his head to look at his mother then at Kael. His eyes were heavy with dread but they had a resignation to them. His eyes said "It's okay, it's for the best". Jorggon swallowed, nodded his head and looked down.

Kael said nothing.

"Well I'm waiting", said Victorienne impatiently.

A few moments of silence goes by and Kael says nothing.

"Answer me!", she said getting angry.

Kael still said nothing.

"ANSWER ME RIGHT NOW!", she yelled as he hand tightened on the lever.

Nothing. Not a word. Not a sound.

"Fine. OFF WITH HIS HEAD!", said Victorienne as she pulled down the lever sending the blade falling down.

"JORGGON!", Kael screamed desperately trying to find something to do to stop that blade but there was nothing.

"KAEL!"

Chop. Plop.

The room went quiet. It was too quiet. The silence was deafening to Kael.

Those would be the last words of Jorggon Paleblood. As his head fell off his now lifeless body. It slowly rolled a few times before stopping and looking directly at Kael. Kael watched in shock and mortified as he saw the light gradually leave his eyes.

In Hell there was dead and then there was dead-dead. Dead means you have a chance of coming back if you find the right person and if the price is right. That's why so many humans make deals with demons in exchange for their soul just to see their loved ones again. Dead-dead meas there is no possible way that you can come back. It doesn't matter if you're demon-born, demon-dead or just dead. Once you're dead-dead that's the end of the story for you.

And unfortunately for Kael, Jorggon was dead-dead.

Once the shock faded a little Kael looked down to give Jorggon a moment of silence.

"Thank you brother. You were the only one who's had any faith in me. You knew what I was and you never ran away not once. I promise that I will do everything in my powers and in all five realms of Hell that I will fulfill the prophecy and Hell will change for the better. I owe you at least that much. Thank you for being a true friend and Hell will be eternally grateful for your sacrifice. May the darkness be with you and merciful wherever you are".

"Guards! Clean up this mess at once!",commanded Victorienne.

A few of them mumbled 'yes my lady' and got to work right away.

She walked over to Kael. He made damn sure to look up at her dead in the eyes with the most hateful cold look up to date.

"As for you my prince", she turned her gaze away from him and looked at the two guards that was still holding him,"take him to the dungeon"

A few moments later he was tossed down the stairs and into a cell with the other slaves that were already in there.

"I can't kill you. You prove to be too useful. You're just an asset that we can't afford to throw away. So as your sentence for high treason instead of a high servant. You're being demoted to Slave. Your duties are to work in the obsidian quarry with the others, tend to me and other company that I decide to have over, and help around the palace cleaning and cooking. Any crime will be punished by 50-100 lashings or up to permanent death depending on the crime. Do you understand?"

Kael didn't say anything at first but then he nodded his head curtly.

"Good"

Victorienne slammed the cage door shut and locked it with the jingling of the faded golden keys. She looked at him with a pitiful expression.

"Poor Kael Bloodsworth. You just don't understand how to play the game do you? You threw away your greatest and only asset that you had. And for what? For a prophecy that may or may not exist? For a chance to overthrow me?", she took a deep breath and pretended to wince,"not your best move there Kael".

Kael didn't give her the satisfaction of saying anything in response. He just turned away from her, settled into his corner that he now calls home and looked out the barred window.

Victorienne waited a few minutes for any sort of retort. When she realized that she wasn't going to get one she shrugged and turned away to head up to the palace main room. Kael heard the clicking of her heels fading away and then the slam of the dungeon door.

Kael looked around to take in his surroundings. The rest of the slaves all looked at him and were whispering to one another. The walls and floor was damp and musty. Definitely some of the stone eroded away. It was also dark in there too. It was going to take some getting used to the sun again. If he ever got out for good. He looked around. It wasn't overcrowded but there werea too many people to make it uncomfortable. He saw the piles of straw that the slaves used for beds that were probably covered in urine and feces not to mention mice and insect infected too.

"If you have something to say about me, say it to my face! And if you don't quit whispering about me like I'm not here I promise you that you won't wake up the next day!", his voice boomed.

There was a stunned silence for a few moments. Then the rest of the slaves scurried back into their respective groups and began to talk quietly among themselves.

Kael turned away and tuned them out. He looked out the barred window out to the obsidian quarry which is no doubt where he'll be working first thing tomorrow. His mind wandered over to what just happened like fifteen minutes ago now.

"I'm so sorry Jorggon. But I had too it was for the cause. It's all my fault",he said in thought.

He let out a sigh and leaned his head against the damp stone wall and closed his eyes. The dampness provided some cool relief.

Victorienne was wrong about a lot of things. She was wrong about Jorggon being just an asset. He was so much more than that. He was a true friend and brother and was always there when he needed him the most. They have been through so much stuff together at the hands of life and Victorienne themselves that they formed a bond that even surpassed a blood brother.

She was also wrong about the prophecy. If it wasn't real then why was there a great big war about it? Why was Victorienne pressing questions on who else was part of the prophecy? Because on the off chance of what if? It was prophesied so long ago now that it's more of a myth. But every myth comes from a slim line of truth. There's always that chance of what if? And that was a chance Victorienne wasn't going to take. She'll destroy anyone who challenges her power and gets in her way.

But at least he kept Talura safe.

For now.

But at what cost? The life of his friend?

That's when it dawned on him.

Everything has a price

I mean of course he knew it. Everything has their consequences. You just don't know how big those could be. That's the gamble. But this was the first time he really thought about it more than just having it be common sense.

Is it worth it?

He honestly couldn't answer that even if he wanted to. But he believes that there needs to be a few sacrifices for the greater good of others. It just so happens to be his best friend. As much as he didn't like it his instincts and intuition told him that he did the right thing. He would have to wait until the child was of age and come down here to fulfill the prophecy and hope that Hell would change for the better.

Sweet darkness he hoped that he did the right thing.

But that's all he really can do for the time being.

Is just sit back and hope.

#original story #original content #orginal character #series #prolouge #my demons #humanity #friendship #loyalty #prophecy #character death

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