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bigfrozenfan-fanfics · 2 years ago

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Chapter 54 - An unforgettable night

Links: Chapter overview, Character list, Map, Glossar Rating: M over all Publishing cycle: each Friday at 6:00 pm CEST dst/UTC +2:00 on (link)

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Attention: This chapter contains adult content and describes a hot erotic kristanna scene!

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The Northuldra wondered why they didn't see any of Kolgrimr's men around, except for Gyda, all day long. But they sensed that he was up to something. Some of them sat down and consulted, most of the others went about their normal day's work, at least as far as they could. Still, it was remarkably quiet in the camp and the children still had a frightened look on their faces, not daring to frolic and play loudly.

Gyda had retreated to her kota since the morning, having gathered all the potion ingredients, and was now preparing everything for her son. Outside it was now getting dark, but her fire with the pot on it was burning and gave enough light for her work. At some point Kolgrimr came to her and inquired about her progress.

“It can't be long now before the scouts are back from Arendelle,” he said. “By the way, I have an idea concerning the twenty men and how we can administer the potion to them without them noticing.”

“What do you have in mind?” she asked.

“It's getting pretty chilly outside in the evenings by now, especially at night. What if you brew them a fortifying tea as soon as they retire to camp in the morning after the change of watch? They shouldn't question the taste if it comes from you, a noaidi, and if they ask, you can tell them whatever you want. After that, I'll have some grilled beef from the hunting success brought to them, and they'll be glad to have something warm in their stomachs after the cold night.”

“That's a very good idea, son. I guess I'll be done with everything in the morning. Your own elixir is already finished and you can take it with you. Don't drink too much of it. It should last for about three days then,” she said, handing him a small corked vial wrapped in reindeer skin.

He tied it to his belt with the straps hanging from it and stood up.

“Well, I have to get back to the other camp now. Good night, mother, so I'll see you in the morning.”

~~~

It was well after sunset when Wael, Thord, and his ten men finally rode past the northern mountains and turned east. All eyes were on a bluish glowing structure on the flanks of the great mountain, and Wael explained to them that it was, as he had heard years ago in Arendelle, Elsa's ice palace.

“However, I had never been here myself, and I must say, that up there is the most impressive ice structure I have ever seen,” Wael said, only to hear someone behind him snort disdainfully.

But when he turned around he couldn't tell who it was, all eyes were on the path ahead and some of the men were taking torches out of their saddlebags and lighting them to see more. He shrugged and followed them.

Maybe an hour later they saw a few houses ahead with window openings faintly glowing reddish against the dark silhuettes all around. It had to be the aforementioned ice harvester settlement; Wael thought. When they arrived there, Thord himself knocked on one of the doors and spoke to one of the harvesters, who opened it shortly after. The latter stepped out and looked curiously at the many men who sat waiting with torches on their horses. Then he nodded and pointed to a barn to the right of the house and Thord beckoned his men to follow him. They all tied their horses to the two low-built flatbed wagons that stood in front and went inside. However, most extinguished their torches first. When Wael was the last to enter, he was greeted by a high storage room filled with many bales of hay and a second level with a wide wooden ladder leaning against it.

Two of the men shined the light for the rest of the group until they had climbed up and made themselves comfortable, and Wael now climbed up as well.

“Tomorrow morning after sunrise we will ride on north, but the man I spoke to earlier has kindly offered us a small breakfast beforehand and will also wake us. Sleep now, for we have a long way to go,” Thord announced, as Wael just lay down on the rustling hay.

Minutes later, the hissing of two extinguishing torches was heard, probably having landed in a bucket of water. It became pitch black. Then the wooden ladder creaked and it rustled as the two men lay down to sleep. It wasn't long before Wael heard the first snores all around, which didn't make it any easier for him to fall asleep. But eventually his eyes fell closed and he slipped into a dream full of fantasies about the possible events to come.

~~~

Kolgrimr was sitting with most of his men in the tent camp not far away in front of one of the campfires and was biting heartily into the thigh of a grilled hare when someone announced the arrival of riders.

He stood up and wiped the grease from his mouth after tossing the remaining morsel carelessly on the fur in front of him and staring strained into the darkness before him. He felt them before he saw the nine men and wondered why one of them was missing, but he preferred to wait for their report. A little suspense couldn't hurt; he thought to himself.

Then the first silhouettes peeled out of the darkness and the men jumped off their mounts shortly after in front of his fireplace. They looked rushed, especially the reindeer, which were now being led aside by a couple of the other men to be properly cared for.

“We made extra haste, Kolgrimr,” said the first to stand before him. “We left in the early morning hours and have been on the road without a break since.”

“Sit down please, you all must be quite exhausted and hungry,” Kolgrimr quickly interrupted him, looking up and then adding louder, “Men, get something to eat and drink. You all deserve to rest.” He then addressed his counterpart again in a normal voice, “While they eat, you can tell me your findings, after which you too can fill your belly.”

The men didn't need to be told twice and sat down by the other fires over which the meat of the slain animals was grilling. They drew their knives and began cutting off large chunks.

“We were on the farmland above Arendelle. It is very vast with many fields, wooden buildings, and rich in food and supplies,” began his scout, “Apparently everyone is preparing a great feast, for they were decorating their wagons and loading them with parts of their harvest. We were very careful and kept our distance. There are only families there and with many children. We didn't see any soldiers from Arendelle, nor any patrols, nor any weapons anywhere, just tools for working the fields.”

“Is that all? You have not been to Arendelle capital itself?” asked Kolgrimr.

The man shook his head, but then hummed and hawed a little sheepishly. “Well ... only one of us. We told him to be patient and wait for the others ... in the end, he just went on his own. You know how offspring hunters are; they think they are so adventurous.”

“And where is he? I only counted nine of you.”

“He ... apparently he got caught there. He didn't come back.”

Kolgrimr jumped up in anger, “He's what? You fools! Didn't I tell you to be careful and not risk going it alone? What if he spills everything he knows?”

The man's face turned pale and the heads of the others wheeled around when they heard Kolgrimr's outburst loud and clear.

Kolgrimr was beside himself, but on the other hand glad that he had suppressed his senses when they all arrived. He certainly would not have been able to restrain himself. His mind was racing. He did not know the captured spy and wondered whether he could keep his mouth shut or not. They would certainly interrogate him in the capital.

“Bring Kárral to me!” he ordered, dropping back onto the hide in front of the fire. “You can get out of here,” he snorted at his counterpart, who had no desire to get more of Kolgrimr's temper and quickly stalked off.

Shortly after, Kárral joined him and could only confirm that the missing man was a young hothead, but that he didn't know him very well either.

“We need to speed things up a bit, Kárral. The best thing you can do is pick out a couple of men to take down a lávvu or two and then ride toward Arendelle to set up an outpost about halfway there. From there, have a few scouts set out to see if any soldiers are on their way here,” said Kolgrimr.

“This very night?” asked Kárral. “Isn't that a bit of an exaggeration?”

“Not in this case, my friend. I want to move our action as quickly as possible. No one knows what this hothead will spout, as you call him. If Arendelle is gearing up for an attack, it will be too late. Most probably, we could be caught in an ambush. Kárral, I know these people, and I am sure they do not fight fairly. We must strike decisively within two days. Tell the men to start hunting at the outpost, we don't have time for that here. Tomorrow you leave with the rest of the men and I have another plan. Let's discuss the details tomorrow morning before sunrise before we ride out. Oh, and send along tonight one or two of the men who came back today. They will know the route now and the moonlight will be enough for them to see the way.”

~~~

It was in the early hours of the morning when a light drizzle began. Above Honeymaren the stars still shone through between the slowly moving gray clouds, but on the top of a mountain range in the distance, she could already see the first red of the day coming up. She shivered slightly as she got up and stowed everything back in her backpack. Then she made a fire with the dry twigs she had stored beside her during the night and warmed her tired bones. For a meager breakfast, she gathered a few berries and chewed on the herb leaves she had found yesterday.

She wished now that she had thought of a small pot or tin cup in Arendelle, then she could have made some hot herbal tea now. Instead, she gulped down the chewed leaves with a sip of cold water. After some time, she stood up and pushed enough earth onto the fire with her foot to make it go out. Then she shouldered the backpack and headed back to the main trail. She made sure that no one was to be seen far and wide and followed the tracks of the nine horsemen again.

By noon today, she should have covered about half of the distance; she estimated and fell back into her usual rut. Forests and hills passed her by, high mountains could be seen on the horizon to the right. The area slowly became more mountainous the further north she went, and she noticed many waterfalls on the flanks of the cliffs, gushing down. The tracks ahead told her that the men had ridden very fast and probably had not taken a break. Poor reindeer; she thought.

They must have already reached the camp last night and only the gods knew what would happen now. Kolgrimr probably had a more accurate picture of Arendelle now. If only she knew what he planned to do next. Perhaps it would have been better if she had taken the spy's reindeer after all? The fact was now that she was close enough to her destination that she might run into a few of his men, and that meant paying close attention. Honeymaren spontaneously decided that she would take a different route, away from the open terrain, in and through the woods.

~~~

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In Arendelle, Kristoff lay awake in bed next to Anna with his arms folded behind his head and a beatific smile on his face. It was already dawn outside, but neither of them had gotten too much sleep. He wouldn't forget this night anytime soon, that was for sure. Yet last night it had all started with just a romantic dinner that he especially had prepared for her. He closed his eyes and recalled every single moment of the evening.

It had begun with his search for her in the late afternoon, after he had returned to the castle with the Northuldra. Kai had informed him that she and her sister had ridden to Master Fabian for fencing practice and would probably not be back before nightfall. Kai had seen his disappointed face and asked if he might be of any help with some surprise for her, and then Kristoff had the bright idea.

Kai was indeed able to help him with his plan and sent a servant into town to get roses from the best florist in town. Then a small table, two cushioned chairs and everything else needed for a romantic candlelit dinner were moved to the small tower at the top of the spiral staircase. Kristoff walked the basket of roses all the way up there, starting at their bedroom, and scattered rose petals to guide her. He put the rest of the flowers in the vase on the little table. Then he went up to the little observation deck and waited while he enjoyed the quiet evening out here so far above. It was already well after sunset when he finally saw them both riding across the castle bridge.

And he saw something else, in the sky above them. Green veils wafted and moved there, slowly becoming more intense. Northern lights! He could not remember ever having seen them so far south. Was this the second sign of the prophecy? He saw how the sisters now also noticed it, descended on the castle courtyard and stretched their necks to the sky. The stable boy also paused, puzzled, as he was about to lead their horses away, staring upward with his mouth open.

Elsa and Anna talked briefly before going inside, and Kristoff went back inside as well. There was nothing he could do about the prophecy, so he lit the candles and sat down. Shortly after, two servants brought up the food and then covered the plates with metal bells to keep it warm. After he was alone again, he listened down to see if Anna's footsteps could be heard, but what he finally heard first was her bright laughter before she ran up to him.

Then she was standing in front of him on the last step of the stairs, beaming, with a small basket in her hand in which she had collected all the rose petals. She quickly set it aside and fell around his neck.

“Oh Kristoff, that's so sweet of you and such a great idea!”

Before sitting down across from him she kissed him on the cheek.

“How was the training? Kai told me about it,” he asked.

“It was very long and tiring, but really good. Master Fabian was very pleased with both of us at the end. Oh yes, we ran into Trygve and Kristina there too, it was a nice surprise.”

“I'm glad to hear that. Shall we start dinner? I've had one of your favorite dishes prepared.”

Anna and he lifted the lids off the plates and set them on the floor. She made a sound of anticipation for the meal as fårikål appeared and smiled. Kristoff uncorked a bottle of red wine and poured for them.

They toasted and began the meal while continually casting amorous glances at each other.

“Did you see them too, darling?” asked Anna between bites.

“You mean the northern lights? Yes, I stood outside while you came back. I guess Sorenson was right after all. But what can we do much about it, except hope for the best.”

“Hmm ... let's hope the third sign doesn't appear, too. But for now, I'm just enjoying being able to enjoy this candlelit dinner with you,” she said with a smile, then chewed on the next bite with relish.

When they had both finished eating, Anna said, “Actually, I wanted to lie down in the bathtub right away, after the sweaty workout. But this way Elsa can preheat the bathroom instead and ...,” she hesitated briefly and looked at Kristoff with a smirk, “... do you feel like getting in the tub with me?”

Kristoff swallowed in surprise, and it was clear from his face that it was working inside him right now.

“Get in a tub with you at the same time? So completely naked and all?”

Anna laughed, “Yeah right, that's what you do when you take a bath. Are you afraid of it or maybe ashamed?”

“N ... no, of course not, I ... um ...,” he stammered, now visibly red in the face.

She put a hand on his and looked deep into his eyes, smiling. “Don't worry, my darling. We're going to be married soon, and sooner or later we'd see each other stark naked anyway. There's nothing to it.”

He nodded, but couldn't say anything at the moment. Instead, he just looked at her in love and put his other hand over hers.

~~~

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She wasn't entirely wrong about his shame in taking off his clothes in front of her as they both slowly undressed in the bathroom. But he overcame himself and finally they stood completely naked opposite each other. They both measured each other unabashedly with glances. He admired her delicate figure and curves. His gaze remained fixed on her pubic hair for a few seconds, until he became embarrassingly aware that he was staring. And something else stirred in him, he could clearly feel it. He quickly put his hands over it and raised his eyes.

Anna had noticed, of course, but just smiled mischievously at him and walked toward the tub.

“Come, honey, let's relax in the hot water for a bit,” she said, inviting him to sit behind her with a wave. Then, as he climbed in, she pressed the large sponge into his hands. “Can you scrub my back a little?

He didn't need to be told twice and gently moved the sponge over her neck, shoulders and arms. She sighed softly and eventually she leaned back and against him, his long legs landing to the left and right of her body. He carefully placed his arms in front of her, still holding the sponge in one hand.

She took it away from him, grabbed both of his large hands, and placed them on her breasts to his complete surprise. She moved her face to the side and looked at him out of the corner of her eye as he hesitated.

“Don't be afraid, darling. Explore me, let me feel your love.”

And then he began to caress her. He felt her nipples harden, felt her chest rise and fall, breathing heavily. At some point she took his hands in hers again and slid them further down her body, across her belly and onto her thighs. And then in between.

He began to breathe more heavily now as well, and the moment he touched her pubic with one hand, he flinched a little fearfully at first. But Anna helped him and guided his hand, showing him what to do and how she liked it. He felt how something was now clearly stirring in him, bumping against Anna's buttocks.

She pressed herself comfortably against him and lifted her legs over the edge of the bathtub as it became more intense for her. He grabbed one boob with his other hand and kissed the soft line of her neck. She moaned. He became brisker and quicker, not needing her help now. He instinctively sensed what she wanted and how. She cupped her hands over the edge of the tub and moved her body gently in rhythm with his caresses. She moaned louder and eventually reared back with a small, delighted cry.

At first he was a little startled by this, but then he realized what had just happened and felt it on his hand as well. She turned to him, pulled him to her and kissed him on the mouth. She let her tongue play with his, wanting more. They both slid more profound into the tub and the water spilled over.

Her head was bright red as she broke away from him a bit again, taking his face in both hands while lying comfortably on top of him. Her eyes twitched over his face in love and excitement, still breathing heavily, but smiling. She tenderly stroked his face and he couldn't tell how much he enjoyed the experience. He beamed at her. No one said anything. The intimate closeness of each other was more than enough.

When they had gotten out of the now almost cold water and dried each other off, they dressed again and walked arm in arm towards the bedroom. They took their time, with Anna's head resting contentedly and happily against his chest. No one came towards them and after he opened the door for her, she undressed again and pulled him to the bed. He did the same and now felt no shame as he crawled naked to her under the covers.

He kissed her all over and smelled her scent that drew him deeper. She opened up to him and he caressed her in a way he would never have thought possible, but no doubt pleased her very much as she tickled his hair and moaned loudly.

~~~

The next morning, after a night full of love in which she had also explored his body and given him pleasure, he now lay awake and highly satisfied next to her and let his gaze glide over her smile in her sleep. He had never been so happy in his life and Anna felt the same, he was quite sure. He stroked her cheek and hair tenderly, plucking a strand from her forehead that hung in the corner of her mouth. She stirred and blinked. She crawled to him, hugged him, and let her head rest on his chest.

“Good morning, honey,” she crooned, her eyes closed.

Kristoff ran his hand over her hair and down her back, “Good morning, darling.”

“What time is it?” she asked after a while.

“There's still time ... just after dawn.”

“I'd love to lie here in bed with you all day long.” She yawned loudly. “But I guess I can't, unfortunately.”

He laughed, “We still have the nights to ourselves.”

“Hmm, that's true ... but I still need some sleep, I can't look people in the eye as sleepily as I look now, can I?” She lifted her head and folded her arms under her chin as she lay there blinking at him. “What would everyone think of me then ...”

He grinned at her, “Well, for once, we really have one lucky queen among us.”

She laughed. “Alright, time to get up and have breakfast.”

She rolled out of bed and he watched her dress with relish, no paravent at all this time. Then he, too, got up and dressed.

Later, at breakfast, Elsa was already sitting at the table with her arms propped up, sipping her coffee, or rather, just about to. Noticing the fairly obvious smiles and demeanor of Anna and Kristoff toward each other as they came in and sat down across from her, she paused with the cup in front of her mouth. Kristoff had even adjusted the chair for Anna, something he had never done before. Elsa looked in amazement alternately from one face to the other. And also, she didn't miss the tiny caresses of the two of them that morning. Something was different and she suspected what they had been up to last night. She wondered how far they might have gone in the process.

“Good morning, sis!” said Anna effusively good-humoredly and Kristoff added a cheerful morning greeting as well.

Then both of them took a big load of food and put so much on their plates that there would have been enough for one more person. Elsa watched them closely. They were concentrated and fixated only on each other, asking their seat partner for something from the other side of the table or pouring juice and coffee into each other's glasses and cups.

Elsa couldn't get out of her amazement and casually asked, “Well, you two are up early today and brought real hunger with you.”

“Hmm, yes, true ... don't know why,” Anna answered with her mouth full, blinking a little nervously.

Elsa tilted her head a little and looked at her sister first in disbelief and then a little reproachfully.

Anna only said, “Oh...” when she realized that Elsa had correctly noticed what must have been going on last night. There was just no fooling her. Anna shook her head in reassurance and said with a smile, “No, no ... nothing happened.” Then she continued her breakfast, somewhat embarrassed.

Kristoff's face turned slightly red, but he tried to avoid eye contact with Elsa. “Where is everyone else, anyway?” he asked instead, innocuously, between two bites of scrambled eggs.

“Except for Linnea in the kitchen, who is apparently teaching Olina some Northuldra recipes, I haven't seen anyone. Myrtha said last night she wanted to meet with Doctor Magnus today. Besides, as soon as Mattias arrives, Yelena shall start her new role on the council. Ikka and Joná are certainly still asleep, it's still quite early, and Ryder ... I don't know, he might still be asleep as well,” Elsa replied after a few moments, then added, “Maybe you should take care of him a little today, Kristoff?”

He looked up briefly and nodded, “Yeah, it might be a good idea. I could take him and Sven out for a little ride, maybe.”

“What about Halima and Elin?” asked Anna.

“They were up pretty early too, according to Kai who saw them, and I'm sure they'll be along shortly. You see, Olaf is teaching the little one how to read ... with our old school books!” reported Elsa.

“Hey, that's nice,” Anna agreed. “It's good to know that everyone will be busy today. You and I, Elsa, can take care of the upcoming council meeting later, and maybe talk a little ... you know ...”

Elsa smirked. “Sounds good, sis.”

~~~

They had ridden out during the night, as Kárral had instructed them, with one of the larger lávvus in tow. It would have room for about ten or twelve men and should be sufficient for an outpost. A total of six men were now on their way toward Arendelle and would probably not be returning to camp any time soon. Soon the time would come and Kolgrimr would make good on his promise to get them long-range weapons there for their fight in the far north, where their families were waiting for them.

Two of the group that returned from Arendelle last night were also with them. The one who had reported to Kolgrimr, and really didn't feel much like getting more of his bad temper, and his best long-time friend. Both of them now had rested reindeer under them and reloaded their luggage onto them, including something that Kolgrimr was probably better off not knowing about.

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They rode ahead to show the others the way and only pale moonlight helped them. It had become quite chilly and they shivered a bit. They looked at each other meaningfully from tired eyes.

“Kolgrimr was pretty mad at me and I'm glad we're on our own again now. Even though I would have preferred to sleep for a few hours. Also, would you like a sip of that stuff we stole from the farmland? It'll warm us up a bit from the inside out,” he said as he reached behind him and pulled out a small but plump leather pouch, uncorked it and took a sip from it.

“Sure I do. I have no idea what this is made of, but I can tell you this. Whoever brewed this knew what they were doing,” his friend replied, taking a sip of the brandy. He had to cough a little and then drew in his breath sharply. “Oh man!” he gasped, “that even burns in the stomach.”

“Not so loud, or the others behind us will get it and might want some, too.” They both laughed and cast a furtive glance behind them, where the other four followed them at some distance.

A little later, the sky began to move and green veils billowed high above their heads.

"I didn't know you could see the northern lights this far south," his friend said as he looked up dreamily.

"Neither did I ... feels like home. I really missed them."

They rode on and only the sounds of the reindeer could be heard in this otherwise silent night. A few hours later it dawned and a light drizzle began.

They could now see the way better and therefore progressed a little faster. At some point, when the sun’s position showed them that it was now about noon, they stopped next to a patch of woods and rested.

“What do you think, is this about halfway?” his friend asked, rubbing his tired eyelids.

“I guess so. All right, I think we'll set up the lávvu here and look around for hunting prey later. Kolgrimr and his men should reach us by late afternoon, plenty of time for hunting and a few hours of sleep afterwards.”

His friend let the others know and they all helped together to set up the outpost at the edge of the forest, somewhat hidden among the trees. As soon as the tent was up, three of them set out as scouts and rode ahead.

The three remaining men first looked for a stream, found one not far away, and then gathered branches together for a campfire, which they started on the side facing the grassy steppe. Finally, they sat down in front of the fire and it wasn't long before a bag of red wine, also from the farmland, made the rounds.

“I need to take a piss,” said the third man after some time, who was the most rested of all here, “after that we should start hunting.” Moments later, he disappeared among the trees.

“Well, field hares seem to be plentiful here, it's just that we don't have an archer with us, unfortunately.”

“Well then, red deer or an elk. I saw earlier ...”

A thudding sound and crashing of branches made him pause in mid-sentence and both heads jerked to the side in the direction of the forest, startled. They jumped up and stared between the trees.

“What was that?”

“I don't know, maybe our friend tripped? Go check it out, but you better take your hunting spear. Who knows, maybe you can kill us an elk on this occasion.”

They both laughed and shortly after only one was sitting by the fire. He looked after his friend as he carefully disappeared between the trees with his spear raised and fetched the bag of brandy from his pack. He just put it to his lips in anticipation and then the last thing he felt was a sharp blow to the back of his head. His eyes went black and he didn't notice how he slumped to the side, unconscious.

~~~

Honeymaren stood wide-legged behind the man she had just taken out and grinned up to both ears. That was easier than she expected, she thought, reviewing the last moments before she spotted the men. She hadn't made the slightest mistake after seeing three scouts riding by at full speed and shortly after smelled the smoke of a campfire ahead before she saw it through the trees.

Patiently, she watched the goings-on of the three men unnoticed until one of them got up to relieve himself in the forest. She followed him silently and struck him from behind with force her new weapon against the side of his temple. He fell over like a felled tree and crashed into the middle of the bushes in front of him. By the time one of the other two came after him and finally found him there, it was already too late and he met the same fate. The rest was a piece of cake and now she stood there thinking about what to do next.

First, she dragged the man in front of her into the forest to the first tree and leaned him against it. She did the same with the other two and then an idea came to her and she grinned. She pulled the gákti over everyone's head and then tied all three of them half-naked to the tree. Next, she gathered all the weapons, broke the spears between a stout branch and stowed the knives, as well as the metal spearheads in her own pack. Then she gathered all the reindeer skins and tied them on the reindeer.

She looked around but could not make out anyone in the distance. She threw all the loose branches nearby and the men's gáktis onto the fire until it blazed high. Then she half dismantled the lávvu and tied a rope from her backpack to the highest part of the wooden structure below where she could just reach. With the help of one of the reindeer, she finally pulled the whole tent onto the fire. It began to smoke heavily, but didn't burn properly. She thought hard until she remembered the smell the leather hose gave off when the last of the men drank from it.

She picked it up and sniffed it, but immediately flinched in disgust. How could anyone drink such swill; she thought, and splashed some of it on a burning branch that was sticking out from under the smoking pile. The fire immediately flared up there.

“Ha!” she exclaimed, pouring almost the entire contents of the bag onto the pile, and it wasn't long before it all blazed and crackled in a great fire. The rest of the bag she spread on the faces of the unconscious. They would give the impression that they were drunk and Honeymaren was thievishly pleased when she imagined this situation.

The last thing she did was mount one of the reindeer and lead the other two behind her as she rode off. Then, as she turned around one last time, she saw a dark cloud of smoke rising into the sky above the forest. It was high time to get out of here!

~~~

The night before, Kolgrimr had talked to Kárral one more time, and asked him what these green veils in the sky meant. But he just waved them off and said that he saw northern lights all the time when he was at home in the far north, and for him it was nothing special. However, he admitted that they were extremely rare this far south. Kolgrimr, on the other hand, was intrigued and wondered if this in turn was an omen for him as well. He, like the Northuldra in their camp, had stayed awake for a long time staring upward as he lay in front of the campfire. However, eventually he fell asleep.

Some minutes after the Sunrise, Kolgrimr sent Kárral, his close confidant with almost all his warriors to the South. Before his departure, Kolgrimr told him that he still needed to attend essential matters at the camp, after those he would follow them later. The meeting point for all of them would be the path after the long arch bridge before Arendelle and if he was not there yet, Kárral and the others must absolutely wait for him.

That was a lie, of course, but Kárral had bought it, no questions asked. After everyone had left, he set off with some leftover hunting spoils and his reindeer to join his mother and the twenty men, who by now must have already drunk the special tea. He met Gyda in her kota.

“So, how well did it work, Mother?”

She nodded with a giggle, “Pretty well, not a single one has refused my tea. Only a few turned their noses up at it, but then drank it anyway. The effects should kick in shortly.”

“Very good. Let's go to their lávvus, then. I've brought some hunting meat for them to roast again on the fires.”

A short time later, they sat with the men and watched as they warmed the meat over the fires once again and gave thanks. Some of them looked a bit chilled and rubbed their hands together in anticipation. After everything was eaten, it didn't take long for the first to show the effects of the potion. Minutes later, before the others could even wonder about it, each of them had become completely apathetic and were staring ahead. Kolgrimr encouraged Gyda with gestures to start a conversation with anyone, still the result was only an incomprehensible look and no one else responded.

“Perfect! Now they are mine.” whispered Kolgrimr to Gyda, “You have done a first-class job, mother. There are six men left behind who will keep an eye on the camp with you in my absence. Now I shall ride to Arendelle with the men. We will all be back in about two days if all goes well. Cross your fingers for me and pray to the gods that all goes well.”

“I will. Take good care of yourself, my son, and good luck!” she hugged him briefly and gave him a squeeze, “One more thing Kolgrimr, have no mercy, destroy them. Make Arendelle pay for their past deeds against our people. Avenge your father ...” Then she got up to return to camp.

When she was out of sight, he uncorked his elixir and drank a third of it. Then he began to meditate with his eyes closed and shortly after he felt the effect. He saw himself through the eyes of these twenty men and clearly felt how will-less they had become. Testing, he mentally ordered one of them to stand up, walk around the lávvu, and then sit down again.

Kolgrimr opened his eyes again and watched, fascinated, as the man did exactly as he was told. When he was seated again, he ordered all the men to stand up, pick up their weapons, and get their reindeer. They all stood up at the same time as one man, grabbed spears and fighting sticks and went off to the reindeer that were grazing not far from their camp. It worked out better than he had expected, without much effort on his part.

It was time now to implement the last step of his perfidious plan. He mounted up and ordered the men to do the same. Then he rode ahead, thinking simply, “Follow me!” and all the men obediently started moving. He grinned broadly as he looked around at them and began to ride faster. There was now some time to make up and it was going to be a long, tiring ride with no rest.

~~~

After riding for a few hours, Honeymaren decided to get a good overview. She tied the three reindeer at the foot of a mountain spur, cut a thick branch as a climbing aid and climbed the steep slope in front of her. It was exhausting and took her a while to reach the top, but the view she now had was breathtakingly beautiful. She stood on a rock covered with low mosses and looked down into a deep valley that ran from south to north, with a sparkling lake in the distance and high mountains beyond.

She took out her telescope and studied the landscape, especially on the side she had just come from. Far back across the horizon she saw an extensive line of birch forest, and in front of it, to the left and right, two ranges of hills converging on it, forming the main route. Back there was her home, the enchanted forest, and in a few hours she would be there.

Honeymaren set down the spyglass and was about to tuck it back under her belt when something unusual caught her eye at the last moment. She looked through them again and almost let them fall out of her hands in shock. She saw a long line of men on reindeer coming directly toward her position, perhaps an hour or two away. But she recognized no one among them. Kolgrimr himself was apparently not with them.

Her heart began to race and she breathed heavily. She had not expected this now. The sheer number of men could only mean one thing, Kolgrimr was on his way to attack Arendelle and had already sent his men ahead. Or had he possibly long since ridden past her unnoticed? By the time she was down and riding back from where she came, it was too late to send a warning to Arendelle in time. Besides, she would run an enormously high risk of being discovered by these men. So what could she do?

While she was thinking feverishly, she already climbed back down into the valley and untied the reindeer. She shouldered the backpack and rode over to the other side, deep into the forest there. It was extremely unlikely that they would discover her now, but she was unsure and therefore wanted to gain as much distance as possible.

As she rode back out of the forest on the other side, a high mountain wall blocked her progress to the east. She looked to the right and to the left, but the mountain range seemed to have no end and there was no entrance to a side valley to be discovered at first glance. She still had about an hour to do it and she rode off without thinking twice. Always north. Kolgrimr's men would be coming towards her perhaps half a kilometer to her left and by riding in the opposite direction to them she was also shortening the time she had left.

But luck was with Honeymaren when, about halfway down the trail, she spotted the entrance to a narrow side valley, or rather a high cut in the rock face beside her. She rode through it, heading east, away from the men. The path was rough, narrow, and overgrown with brush, but in the end she had made it and rode out into a small valley with a small stream and pool in the hollow. Amidst high rock walls, a small waterfall fell gushing down. Honeymaren liked this sound and it calmed her.

Honeymaren decided to wait out the evening and set up a makeshift camp in here. She looked around as she rode and realized that there was only one entrance in here, the one she had just come through. It was like a little green oasis here in the middle of the mountains and completely cut off unless you stumbled upon it by accident.

But this could also become a dangerous trap for her. She descended and climbed up a rock face that offered enough hold and stepping possibilities for her. At the top, she crept to the western side and lay down on the edge to look down. Then she breathed a sigh of relief. Kolgrimr's men had ridden past her and were now a good kilometer away. For safety's sake, she stayed down until they were all out of sight and then climbed back down.

The reindeer had found a corner of lichen and moss and were grazing in peace. Honeymaren's stomach started grumbling as she thought about eating. But alas, she had nothing left and the immediate area didn't even offer any bushes with berries on them. The small stream didn't seem to have any fish either, but she filled her water hose and then built a small fire to warm herself up.

It got dark quickly in this valley basin because it was so narrow and the rock walls around it were so high. Honeymaren estimated that the camp she had destroyed and the three bound men would be discovered at any moment. Then she laughed out loud as she imagined the faces to it. Her voice echoed back and she laughed even harder because of it. She rejoiced, for now the way was clear to the Northuldra camp.

~~~

youtube

When Kárral found the smoking remains of the outpost and minutes later three men called for help to untie them, at first his mouth only remained open in astonishment. But then he smelled the alcohol on the three half-naked men and almost freaked out. He yelled at them and punched the first one right in the face. Then he slapped his hand on the cheeks of the other two as well. He didn't dare imagine what Kolgrimr would have done to them if he had found this camp like this instead of him. Where did they get this alcohol anyway? It smelled disgusting.

One of his men came back from the forest with the remains of two spears in his hand. “There has been a fight. The spears were broken on purpose and the spear tips are missing,” he said, pointing to the empty knife sheaths on the belts of the three men, “and so are the knives.”

“Who, by the gods, did this?” asked Kárral dangerously quietly, stepping up to one of these men and glaring at him so viciously that he sank to his knees in supplication.

“We don't know. We didn't hear or see anyone before we were overpowered, not even the shadow of the enemy. It all happened so fast and when we woke up we were tied to the tree without our gáktis and all our belongings and the lávvu were ablaze,” he gave meekly.

“Tell me exactly what happened and how it happened. The order of events,” Kárral ordered him, looking down at him disparagingly. The other men nearby were quiet as mice and were equally eager to hear it.

When he finished his report, Kárral turned around, in the direction from which they had come, and gazed into the distance. “It was only one person and this one knew exactly what he was doing, I'm pretty sure. He's probably riding into our camp right now and already knows we're here.”

“So what do we do now?” asked Juhvo, who had stepped up beside him and heard what he was muttering under his breath.

Kárral's eyebrows drew together and he pondered. For minutes he said nothing and continued to stare back north.

“Kárral?” Juhvo was getting a little nervous, “What's going on? Do we have a problem?”

“No, we don't. We'll take care of that person when we get back. We have six men in camp and you three...” he turned back to the half-naked men, “have become useless to our plan without your weapons and mounts and are allowed to run back. We have no spare reindeer with us, so that's your problem now.”

“Actually, we were going to rest here in the lávvu and eat the spoils of the hunt, but we have neither now,” Juhvo complained, and a few of the other men agreed with him.

“Then we'll just ride off on an empty stomach. We have a task ahead of us and will meet Kolgrimr on the spot. He has something special planned and is waiting for us after the last bridge before Arendelle. So come on, men, mount up and let's go!” Kárral ordered and mounted his reindeer.

When all the men were gone, the remaining three looked at each other helplessly. Then they trudged off despondently, heading north, but using the forest as a path, hoping to find at least berries and mushrooms there as meager rations.

~~~

---

Remark: I hope you have enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a comment if you liked the story, I would be pleased to read your opinions, even criticisms. If you want to be tagged as soon I publish the next chapter please let me know, except you are already tagged :-)

Tagging: @karma26 @true--north @annaofthenorthernlights @the-fifth-spirit-elsa

#frozen #frozen2 #frozen3 #fanfic #epic novel #the broken bridge #part four #chapter 54 #bigfrozenfan

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snowstark · 3 years ago

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if ur still inch rested in “king to serve” AU ideas……. I have so fucking many (and questions too). Sorry to dump all of this on you!!! I hope it’s not a rude thing to do when you’re on semi-hiatus, which by the way is a great thing to do you should always put yourself and your life and mental health before doing extra things for others like writing your insanely amazing fics. I love love love all of your writing. Ok sorry again to send 300 paragraphs.

1. if Tony has a one night stand with like a very pretty visiting lady or countess or whatever lower level of nobility… how does peter find out? Is he accustomed to spending every night by his kings side in his bed? Does he walk in on a private moment and drop to his knees in apology and embarrassment (and heartbreak)? Or does Tony send a messenger to him after the dinner that he should stay in the pet’s harem quarters that night, and peter doesn’t understand why until Harry has to explain that just because Peter is reserved only for his king, doesn’t mean Tony is held to the same monogamy? And of course Harry feels bad for his devestated friend (but misery loves company, and maybe it’s nice to see the new favorite get knocked down a peg). Maybe the next night (or that morning) peter is called to serve his king intimately and has to hide his feelings the best he can. I can just picture him comparing himself to whoever tony flirts/sleeps with and feeling so inadequate 😢😢😢

2. Some visiting dignitary tells Tony he wants to use Peter for the night. Tony says no of course, but maybe Peter thinks he’s considering it and panics. Peter is afraid of being given as a gift to this new man, just as he was a gift to Tony.

3. Christ I’m so mean to peter! Ok to be nicer (ish): Tony is injured, maybe in his laboratory/workshop (if he has one in this universe), maybe in battle, maybe an assassination attempt. Peter kneels by his bed and faithfully cares for his beloved master.

4. Peter realizes Tony needs an heir and will have to be married eventually, making his days even more numbered (or does he already have one from a previous marriage?)

5. A palace guard keeps trying to flirt with/harassing peter. Two possible outcomes — tony finds out but thinks Peter is being unfaithful, or tony rescues peter and punishes the guard very publicly for touching what isn’t his.

6. Harry is put in charge of making sure Peter is completely shaved everywhere. Always. An uncomfortable experience? Or very effective friendship bonding?

7. Tony’s birthday (name day?). Featuring jousting tournaments, feasts, dancing, etc. Peter trying to figure out what he can give the man who owns him, the god that he worships. Maybe he meets Rhodey on this occasion. Maybe he accidentally overhears a plot against the King, and is able to report back to tony and Rhodey about the threat and conspirators.

8. Last one then I promise not to bother you anymore. Ok on the road back to Tony’s kingdom from Steve’s, peter has the honor of performing some very forceful intimate service for his king. He then is sent to fetch his king something from outside the tent and must walk past all the guards and soldiers in his ruined tunic, covered in bite marks and bruises and the king’s seed

in reference to this series

OH MY GOD???1?1?!2’w NO BC ANON u don’t understand how obsessed i am with every single idea here. like i am 100% writing all of this oh my godddd the ideas are Brewing™️ in my brain right now help

ur not bothering me at all!!!! i would not mind AT ALL if you sent more 😩 thank u for these genius suggestions, i broke my ankle running to write these down

#ask #anon #a king to serve series #starker #nff #this series is also my current focus in terms of writing i’d say

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genshin-impacted · 4 years ago

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empress of the first water // Zhongli x Reader (1)

Word Count: ~2.2k

Palace/Harem Imperial Drama AU: You are a princess, soon-to-be-Empress, and Zhongli is the teacher invited by the royal court to show you the ropes before you ascend to the throne after a royal tragedy.

Notes: female!reader, eventual mutual pining, fake political maneuvers, mentions of death (yes, this is a set up to a harem drama, but Zhongli is focused in this), Zhongli POV

[Next]

hello welcome to the AU I made up; hope I finish this someday :)

“You are unfit to lead this country.”

Not two weeks after a tragedy that hits the royal family, leaving you the sole heir to the throne, that is what has been said to you over and over again. The royal court adjourns without delay, placing you in the middle of it-- though you could care less.

You hold whatever you have been able to salvage from the fire: a necklace momento from your father, the dress that your mother had woven herself. And in your hands, you hold in an urn the ashes of what remains of your family.

There is nothing else on your mind except for the fact that you are alone as the lone heir to the throne, the only living princess of the royal bloodline, and soon-to-be Empress of a nation that you are not prepared to lead.

You just want to mourn.

Zhongli has lived long enough to understand that politics will always be the determining factor in which his life will be led. It does not matter what he dreams of doing or what he desires. As the only born son to one of the oldest and most prestigious families in the nation, his life has never been his own-- though he supposed no one born of royalty has ever been truly in control of their path.

Still, Zhongli finds ways to play what cards he has. He earns praises for his wide array of knowledge in tradition, politics, and culture alike, but it is easy to know something if you are interested in it. He remembers vividly when Guizhong teased him, calling him an old soul when he delved personally into the traditions of tea ceremony, of calligraphy and poetry, out of his own volition because he enjoyed learning. His skills in the polearm-- also passed down in his lineage-- have also not been neglected, for he finds that it is similar to dancing, an elegant and respectful pastime that he often admires in operas and shows that he indulges himself in. If he could do anything with his life, Zhongli thinks he would be a writer or a teacher, or possibly even a historian.

("Old man," Guizhong had said to him affectionately for the last time before she left the compound to serve her duty as a princess, like many others. "One day you'll find yourself someone who listens to you and you'll talk their ear off."

"I doubt anyone would listen to what I have to say willingly," he had said, and his friend had only given him a soft look and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"I don't," she said.)

It has been years since he has entertained the idea of living a quiet life writing his knowledge onto paper and even longer still since had long last seen his childhood friend. Zhongli finds himself in the fray of politics that he knows so much of and has no choice but to delve into when he is invited to the royal capital.

"It is a great honor," his father had said to him, hands behind his back, "to be meeting the Princess of the royal family. Make a good impression; this is of the utmost importance."

Political maneuver, Zhongli thinks immediately, not doubting the intention of an invitation coming from the palace, especially after the incident he has been told of. A fire of great destruction, the burning of a whole wing with the royal family trapped inside-- one would think it was a plot to overthrow the Emperor, but if anyone were to stage a coup, they would have burned the inner walls of the palace where the man resides, bedridden. A great coincidence to have the royal family unable to escape, but it almost seems too malicious to call it that. Gross neglect? Bad luck? Karma? Truly, a tragedy as the death of many could not be described worse than as an accident.

Zhongli thinks it is much too early to be moving the chess pieces so soon after half the board has been razed to the ground, but he supposed the world has never been that kind.

With a trained expression, Zhongli picks up the tea that had been brewed and takes a sip (too bitter, stepped too long, he thinks, wincing slightly, and putting the cup down). "I understand, father." He pauses for a moment and considers his words. "Is there a particular reason for this invitation?"

"The Princess is in need of education due to her lack of preparation as an heir," he says, "though I also hear she is in need of a husband as well."

The tea leaves in the cup trembles for a moment before sinking. "Father?"

"This is an opportunity of a lifetime, son."

And Zhongli thinks about his role, his abandoned journal, and books yet to be read and nods. "I understand," he says, wondering why, even though he expects where his life has been leading, he feels disappointed by the outcome anyway. "I will bring honor to our family."

"I expect nothing less," is what is said to him, and Zhongli swallows the bitterness of the tea down.

When Zhongli arrives at the palace, he is welcomed with all the excitement that is to be expected from the arrival of a son whose family holds prestige. Maids of many numbers cater to his every whim, and the few court officials who seem to favor him welcome him to the royal palace, which is broad and grand just as history would describe them.

Briefly, he wonders if it is professionalism or greed that maintains the palace’s daily businesses after an evident tragedy.

"I would like to extend my greetings and gratitude to the princess for allowing me in her castle," Zhongli says carefully, his voice even and words like silk-- just as he was taught as an educated man-- and watches in confusion as the nobleman who had barely kept his pleasure at his presence suddenly deflate.

"Ah, yes, of course, you would like to see the Princess," he says, a nervous lilt to his voice. "But I'm afraid she is preoccupied with another commitment at the moment. My apologies."

Invitation from the Princess, he remembers reading from the telegram, thinking it strange that someone would invite someone without intentions of welcoming them. It's easy to come to the conclusion that the Princess had not sent the message-- and the thought that she may not even know of his arrival also comes following after. Instead of speaking, Zhongli nods, much to the noble's relief as he continues to parade and provide him the tour that he has not asked for but appreciates nevertheless.

His room is two halls down the main chambers where you live. If the location and proximity to royalty were not enough, the room itself was also vast and much too big for one person, but he supposes luxury and decadence can be shown in empty space as well as it can with beautiful trinkets and trophies. Zhongli has always admired such things, as he does with the ornate statue sitting on top of his vanity and wonders when, if he ever does, he will be able to explore the castle in between whatever responsibilities the court deems him in need for.

"Maid," Zhongli says gently, but the young maid startles anyway when he addresses her.

"Yes, sir?"

"Would I be allowed to stroll the gardens of the west side of the palace?" He says, "The moon is to be full tonight and I wish to view it."

She flushes, for reasons that Zhongli knows not for. "I-I believe so. The guards should be patrolling at the moment, but you are a recognized guest of the palace, so all should be well."

When Zhongli steps out onto the carefully maintained rock garden, he spots a few men walking down and up the inner walls of the castle. He briefly thinks about the number of them but thinks no further, for now. Instead, he thinks the moon is best viewed when its reflection is in the water, clouds are nowhere in sight, and all is quiet. He comes close to the perimeter of the garden inner castle, expecting to see no one.

Zhongli steps into the moonlight and watches as you sit onto the grass and lean your head against the lone lantern post.

Perhaps you are here to moon-gaze as well, he thinks and goes to alert you with his presence by clearing his throat. He doesn't know why his earnest attempts to be unalarming go unwell, but he startles you into turning around.

Zhongli does not know what the Princess looks like, nor has he had anyone describe you to him. But Zhongli knows who you are if not solely from the emblem you carry on your headpiece and the way you hold a funeral urn in your lap like it is the only thing tethering you. As such, he expects the caustic demands of his name and stature, as expected of a Princess, but he is surprised to find that you look at him instead like a deer in headlights, arms tense around the urn.

"My apologies for startling you, my lady," Zhongli begins, "that was not my intention."

"Oh, no, it's okay," you stammer, and he has to blink for a moment at the manner in which you speak. "I should have probably noticed you coming. I was distracted."

Princesses and princes of the royal family are taught three things from birth: power, manners, and tradition. Nothing says more about your status than the way you hold yourself and the way you speak, especially if you are of royalty, and so every word that one must speak seems carefully crafted and intricately woven with elegance. A tad bit obnoxious, if anyone could say, but it is a mark of the elite, regardless of the former.

But you, who hold possibly one, if not the most, powerful title in the country, speak casually and without bothering with a mask of neutrality, as though you are unused to the burdens of sovereignty.

Your eyes are gentle, almost excessively so, and the way you hold yourself as though you want to be unnoticed are both strange but corroborating evidence of your peculiarities of a noblewoman. Though Zhongli has yet to understand why this is so, the instructions his father listed and his role in the castle has become clearer.

Zhongli has many questions, too many to ask about to a person who has no idea who he is.

Decorum takes him before his curiosity overwhelms him, and he lowers his head in deep respect. "My name is Zhongli, Princess. Thank you for allowing me to stay as a guest within the palace.”

"Oh," he hears you breathe out, "you're the one that came today." You turn your head toward the koi pond that beautifully reflects the moon. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to greet you," you say mechanically, trained.

"No, that's quite alright," Zhongli says mildly, glancing down at the urn still in your hands. "I'm sure greeting a stranger would be the least of your concerns at the moment."

At this, you smile at him. It is not a happy smile, but rather a pained one that strains your lips and pinches your eyes. Zhongli thinks back on his first lesson to maintain his expression, to keep composure, and almost marvels at the emotions clear on your face for him to see.

(He thinks this may make your life harder for you, to wear your heart on your sleeves. But he finds himself selfishly wanting you to stay as you are.)

"I've been told one week is all I should be given to mourn, as typical of a funeral ceremony. My parents' ashes should be released but…" You glance up at the night sky dim with stars. "I know in my heart this is not the place for them."

"Then what is the place?" Zhongli echoes and holds his breath when the smile you give him is gentle beyond measure.

"Some place where the wind blows," you say, "where the earth is clean and the ocean is near. That way, my parents can choose freely where to find rest." You laugh. "That must be a pretty tall order, isn't it?"

"You are a Princess," Zhongli finds himself saying, and you turn back to him. "I believe you are allowed to demand only the very best, for yourself and your loved ones."

"I believe," he continues, when he sees your eyes mist over, "that I am here to tutor you in the ways the court deems fit. I have been praised to have a wealth of knowledge and the privilege of history in my family as well as the power of my lineage; I will guide you as best as you need me to." He pauses. "And… if you require a geographical lesson on the highest peaks, the widest oceans, and the most open plains, for reasons beyond academic, I will be available to you."

Zhongli returns to his room (two halls away, he reminds himself, from you), and it is only then he realizes that he has not looked at the moon at all. Not directly, he thinks, but he supposes he did see a glimpse of it, as it stands behind you as a backdrop to frame the smile you gave him that was as bright as starlight.

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin zhongli #genshin impact zhongli #genshin imagines #genshin au #imperial drama au

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mrs-gucci · 3 years ago

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Lady of Ren: New & Improved {King Kylo Ren x noblewoman!Reader}

table of contents Prologue (1.4k) [1] New & Improved (1.5k) * [2] Revenge of the Husband the full masterlist for this series is linked here.

we’re kicking things off with chapter one of Lady of Ren! I had quite a bit of trouble with this one and I re-wrote it a few times, but I’m relatively pleased with how it ended up turning out. I can’t wait to continue this fun, twisted historical (sorta) tale!

warnings: attempts & fails at historical accuracy. some basic french. themes of magic/potion-making. there’s a kiss.

chapter-specific tw’s: poisoning. manipulation of feelings (via love potion).

(!!) This story will include graphic, explicit and potentially triggering subject matters such as murder, poison, love potions (leading to non-consensual manipulation of feelings), extramarital affairs, torture, violence, executions, and fighting. All individual warnings will be listed on each chapter and darker chapters will be indicated as such, but please do not read if any of these subject matters could be triggering to you. (!!)

word count: 1.5k on the money.

17th Century France The Palace of Alderaan --

Your heart thrums rapidly in your chest, so much so that you can hear its clear pulsing in your ears. The small vile of love brew is clenched in your trembling palm, pearlescent substance quivering and bouncing along with your strides.

Meeting in the daylight has you even more fearful than usual, but you know that you must. The love brew is absolutely essential to your plot and the only way that it will get dropped into his Majesty’s wine glass is by kitchen staff hand.

A young woman with a stained apron and simple gray dress is tapping her foot against the grassy ground as she looks around. She startles slightly when you appear around the side of the structure and approach.

“Miss.” She bows slightly. “Do you have the potion?”

You nod, handing her the small vial and a small pouch of coin. “Here it is. And here is the payment we discussed. I hope you understand how crucial it is to keep this interaction quiet.”

She nods quickly, nervously. “Of course, madame. Not a word will be spoken about it from this moment forth.”

“Excellent. I thank you for your discretion.”

You offer her a small smile before beginning the trek back up to the main castle.

When you return to Phasma’s quarters, you cannot tear your eyes away from the box that lay on the Lady’s bed, the one you’d delivered to her just hours ago. Anxiety grips you and keeps a firm hold the entire time Lady Phasma gets dressed for tonight’s meal with the King.

You’re holding your breath as she laces up the diseased garment, pulling the ties tightly to cinch her waist. A long breath of great relief leaves your lips when she sits down at her makeup table, chest falling from where it was held up the duration of her dressing.

She gives you a look with furrowed brow through the mirror. “If you are finished daydreaming, I am ready for my hair and paint.”

“Yes, mademoiselle.” You say quickly, shaking your head softly as you walk up and begin pulling her straw blonde hair up atop her head.

----

The King and Queen are chatting with a few of the dinner guests when you and Lady Phasma enter the study for the pre-meal drinks. Your stomach does flips when you see the King sipping at his wine, the wine you’re sure is tainted with the potion.

He does not pay you much mind, which was to be expected, according to La Voisin. So, you go about drinking along with the guests, just waiting for a noticeable shift in the King’s attention.

Queen Rey, as per usual, gives Phasma dirty looks, fully aware of her husband’s affair with the tall blonde. She’s always been jealous of his array of mistresses because she made the mistake of falling in love with her arranged husband, while he barely considered her an acquaintance. A part of you feels sympathetic for her, but at the same time, you felt no pity for her.

Soon, the party shifts into the dining room where everyone takes their respective seats around the large table. The finest palace china lay at each place, along with shining, spotless utensils and large wine goblets.

Dinner is brought out shortly after everyone takes their seats and the dinner wine is poured. You sip nervously at the rich red, trying to do something, anything to calm your nerves. He still isn’t really paying you much mind and this fact unsettles you greatly.

Had the kitchen maid fibbed to you? Had she instead turned you in for your shady dealings?

The meal wears on and you’ve grown more and more anxious. Just when you’re sure you’ve been fooled, the King’s eyes fall unto you and your heart skips a beat as you offer him a small smile.

He cannot seem to tear his eyes from you as he participates in the light dinner conversation, only looking away for a few moments at a time before returning to you.

Your cheeks are burning up at his searing and unrelenting gaze, holding back nervous giggles as the servants clear the dinner plates, bringing out pudding to take their place.

It is blatantly obvious to you now that the potion has indeed been administered and a wave of pure relief washes over you, enjoying the King’s attention all during the last of the feast.

And even better? Lady Phasma has seemingly caught onto his sudden shift in attention, wearing a bitter pout as she pitifully picks at the cake on her china.

Pudding comes to a close a bit too soon for your liking and everyone begins to part ways, bidding a farewell and good night to the King and Queen. Lady Phasma says her goodbyes before you and then, you step up to the royal couple, giving them a polite curtsey.

King Kylo’s eyes fall to your prominent bosom where it’s nearly spilling from the top of your dress as you bow before him, meeting your gaze when you resume standing erect.

“Merci, Majesties.” You say, trying not to meet the King’s eyes for more than a moment at a time. “It is always a pleasure to dine with you.”

Queen Rey says nothing while King Kylo steps up and reaches out to take your hand, planting a soft kiss atop the skin. Her Majesty looks surprised at his motions, glaring up at him as he steps back into place beside her.

“De rien. It is always our pleasure to host you, Lady De Montespan.”

Your cheeks warm, nodding at the pair before showing yourself out. You have to bite down on your painted lip in order to keep from grinning with glee.

You’ve got the King right where you want him.

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

Lady Phasma’s condition has dwindled drastically. She is frail as glass, thinned down to the skeleton and her skin is a sickly pale color. You’ve been required to wait on her hand and foot as her health declines, an unforseen and unexpected effect of your efforts. You don’t mind, though; it will soon be more than worth it.

The King has completely lost interest in the Lady, both due to her sudden unappealing looks and the potion’s influence. Whenever you’re in his presence, which is much more frequent now that the Lady is all but out of the picture, he cannot pay attention to anyone but you.

Now, it’s only a matter of time before he requests your presence in his quarters, only a matter of time before you take your rightful position as the new and improved Lady of Ren.

Oil lamps cast a dim yellow glow upon the room as you sip your evening tea, setting the cup back down on its matching saucer. A fire crackles in the fireplace, occasionally breaking up the tranquil silence hanging throughout the room.

Suddenly, the door opens and you startle, looking back in a somewhat annoyed state at the intruder of your alone time. But, that annoyance quickly melts away when you take in the face of the intruder.

You stand out of respect, giving the King a small bow. “Your Majesty.”

He nods, hands clasped behind his back as he strides over to the luxurious chair by the fire, taking a seat. You follow suit, sitting back down on the small lounging sofa.

A period of silence stretches between the two of you before his deep, strong voice slices through.

“How is Lady Phasma doing? Has her condition at all improved?”

You’re surprised by his question. You shake your head. “I am afraid not, your Majesty. The hospital is taking over her care by this time tomorrow.”

He nods wordlessly, looking into the crackling orange embers in the fireplace before turning his head to look into your eyes.

“May I ask what brings you to the lounge so late in the evening?” You ask, setting your tea aside. “Not that I am not enjoying your company, of course.”

Kylo chuckles, sitting up a bit and leaning forward in his seat. “I have not been able to stop thinking about you as of late, mademoiselle. You have weaved me into your web and I cannot seem to escape your seductive hold.”

He rises, then, striding over to you slowly.

“Now that Lady Phasma has fallen ill, I have found myself without proper womanly company...”

Your breath hitches and you rise from your seat, suddenly having the King towering over you, bodies pressed together. His hands fall to your hips while yours rise to grip his upper arms through his regal coat.

His head begins to relax and fall, steadily getting closer and closer to yours. You find yourself reaching up with your lips, suddenly craving contact.

Closer, his breath wafts across your face in a warm cloud...

Closer, barely any space between your lips now...

And then, they touch.

PREVIOUS {-------------------------------------------------------} NEXT

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muertawrites · 4 years ago

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Two Halves - Chapter One (Zuko x Reader)

Word Count: 3,700

Author’s Note: I decided to set this a few years after the war, when Zuko is Firelord. I didn’t want to stray too far from what was canon in the series - what with Katara being the only bender left in the Southern Tribe and also trying not to add extra family members because that always feels weird to me - so the reader in this story is a girl from the village who lost her parents to a raid and was essentially adopted into Sokka and Katara’s family; she stayed behind to watch after the tribe when they left to help Aang, and now, as the chief’s surrogate daughter, is arranged to marry the Firelord to help bring the two nations together. Chaos and sweet, tender romance ensues. This is also going to be a mini series! I have no real plot and no idea how long it’s going to be, but that just adds to the fun of it all. Stay tuned.

~ Muerta

“You can’t be serious.”

Sokka, seated beside you, instinctively offers you his hand, which you willingly, eagerly take, gripping it tightly in your lap. You can’t decide if you feel anger or fear; the two mix sourly in your stomach.

“I am,” Chief Hakoda says. His tone is even, and infuriatingly understanding. It makes you want to scream. “Your presence in the Fire Nation will be key to unite the nations in peace once again. They’ve been closed off from the rest of the world for too long - you’ll be an ambassador for our people.”

“Then make me an ambassador,” you snap. “Marrying me off to the Firelord is no better than letting him come here and colonize us.”

Hakoda glowers sternly at you. You shrink back, Sokka giving your hand an assuring squeeze.

“Firelord Zuko has made great strides to restore what his ancestors destroyed in the years since the war,” Hakoda scolds. “He’s an honorable, respectable man. I expect you to treat him as such.”

You look back up at him, letting out a heavy, defeated sigh.

“I don’t have a choice in this, do I?” you ask softly. Your voice quivers, revealing the terror behind your rage.

Hakoda’s expression softens as he stands. He helps you onto your feet, holding you gently at the elbows and looking apologetically into your eyes, one of his hands reaching to brush your hair behind your ear.

“Just because the war is over, it doesn’t mean the need for sacrifice is,” he tenderly says. “You’ll do great things as the queen of the Fire Nation. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t trust Zuko to treat you well.”

In Hakoda’s eyes, you see the man you knew as a child, the man who brought you into his family when you lost your own to a Fire Nation raid. You love him as much as you loved your own father, and know he loves you as much as his flesh and blood children; you trust that he would never put you in harm’s way.

Hakoda leans forward and kisses your forehead, holding you close for a long moment before letting go, breaking contact with you completely. The pain on his face tears a gaping hole in your heart.

“You leave in three days,” he tells you. “You’ll be in good hands - I promise.”

Though you know it isn’t for the last time, leaving the Southern Water Tribe hurts so much you think it might kill you.

You cruise across a calm ocean in a Fire Navy ship; luckily Sokka was allowed to come with you as emotional support, as well as to represent the tribe at your wedding. The presence of Zuko’s uncle is also calming to you, despite how little you know him, and how not long ago you would have considered him an enemy. There’s just something about Iroh that makes you feel safe, and you only hope the same holds true when you meet your husband to be.

“Zuko sent me to ensure your safe passage,” Iroh told you when you first boarded the ship. “Think of me as your guardian spirit.”

You stand on the deck, basking in the newly warm weather and taking deep breaths of fresh ocean breeze. The peace of the moment helps you lose yourself, forgetting your fate entirely, if only for a moment.

“How ya feeling?”

Sokka sidles up next to you, placing an assuring hand on your shoulder. You reach up and curl your fingers around his, sighing.

“Awful, now that you’re here,” you tease.

Sokka chuckles.

“I could still make good on that promise I made when we were kids,” he offers, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into the side of his sturdy, familiar body. “I don’t think Suki or Dad would be really happy about it, though.”

You let out a huff of laughter, remembering all the times you used to play together before the war brought you closer; you used to have intense crushes on each other, and Sokka always promised that he would marry you when you both got older - plans that changed when you effectively became siblings. You lean your head into his shoulder, finding comfort in his presence.

“I’m just scared,” you tell him. “I always planned for great adventure in my life, and to help people, but… this doesn’t seem like the right way. It feels like I’m being taken prisoner.”

“They say that having too many plans for one’s life keeps one from finding their true potential.”

You turn, meeting Iroh’s gaze as he crosses the deck to where you stand. You part with Sokka and bow respectfully, trying to hide the embarrassment that heats your skin.

“I apologize, General Iroh,” you greet him. “I didn’t mean any offense.”

Iroh tuts at you, placing a hand on your shoulder to gently straighten you up. He meets you with a kind gaze and a soft smile.

“Fear is to be expected, my dear,” he says. “You can’t have a great adventure without also facing a great fear.”

He turns and peers out across the water, inhaling and releasing a deep, contented sigh.

“The weather is lovely today,” he notes. “Why don’t we all enjoy it together, with a pot of tea?”

And so a tea set is brought, along with a table and cushions, and you and Sokka join Iroh as he demonstrates how to brew the perfect pot of jasmine green, generously serving each cup. He toasts to your being together, and you drink heartily, savoring the exquisite taste of his famous tea.

“I understand how you must feel,” Iroh addresses you once you’ve all settled. “Coming to a strange country, among people responsible for so much of the pain you’ve experienced; you’re exceptionally brave for doing what is best for your people.”

Iroh takes your hand, cradling it between both of his.

“I am sorry for how my nation - my family - has hurt you,” he says. “My nephew and I only want happiness for you with us, and we will do all we can to ensure it; I give you this vow among his.”

He squeezes your hand tightly, and you grip back, accepting his promise. You bow again, lowering yourself so that your face is almost level with the deck of the ship.

“Thank you, General Iroh,” you reply. “Your generosity means everything to me.”

When you sit up, Sokka places a hand at your back, giving you a comforting smile.

“Zuko’s a good guy,” he assures you. “I really think you’ll learn to like him.”

Your arrival in the Fire Nation, much to your surprise, is met with celebration. As your ship pulls into port, army and navy officers in full ceremonial regalia perform displays of their bending, a traditional band playing cheerful, joyous music to welcome you to shore. A procession of military vehicles escorts you through the streets of the capital to the palace, citizens emerging from their homes and businesses to catch a glimpse as your carriage rolls by. The people who manage to see you are elated, if not curious, staring at you with wide eyes and rapt attention; Iroh explains that many of them have never seen a foreigner, as travel to the nation is only just starting to become somewhat commonplace. You’re confronted by the beauty and grandeur of the city - the tall, elegant buildings with their ornate details are far from anything you’ve ever seen in person, even with the rapid development of the Southern Tribe.

In the palace, you’re immediately whisked away to your own wing, your quarters designated to a set of quaint buildings circling a scenic courtyard. Tradition dictates that, from the time of your engagement, you aren’t allowed to see the man you’re meant to marry until you’re both at the alter; the first few days of your time in the Fire Nation are spent in seclusion, resting off the fatigue of travel and acquainting yourself with the new culture you must now call your own. Though you have to keep your distance, you’re relieved when, on your first morning in the palace, you find a letter on your doorstep, scrawled in a refined, graceful hand and addressed from the Firelord himself.

Hello, it says, Zuko here.

I wish I could introduce myself in person, but unfortunately, this will have to do for now. Sokka has told me much about you in the years we’ve known each other, and he always speaks of you highly. My uncle is also already enamored with you, and tells me he already considers you family, so I hope this brings as much comfort to you as it does to me. I don’t think I could have chosen a better woman to rule at my side.

I have to admit that I’m nervous about getting married. I still feel like I’m too young, and still just figuring things out. But I guess if I can lead a country and make peace after a hundred years of war, I can have a wife and make her happy. I hope I do make you happy - I hope we can be close friends and lead the nation strongly together, for the better of both our homes.

Please write to me if you need anything. Sincerely yours, Firelord Zuko.

The candidity and awkwardness of his writing makes you smile, your mind at ease being able to put a voice to his name. You decide to write him back immediately.

Hello, Zuko, you write.

Your letter has already made me feel much better. Your uncle is a very sweet, very wise man, and I’m thankful that you sent him to watch over me - he makes me feel like I already have a little piece of a home and a family here. Meeting the man who raised you, I have faith that you’ll be a good husband to me.

I’m very scared because, unlike you, I’ve never led a country or had to negotiate peace - getting married is the biggest responsibility I’ve ever had. I want to help people, though, and if I can help people by leading them out of the darkness of war, I’m very happy to do it. It isn’t as terrifying knowing you’re also nervous; I’m glad we can be nervous together.

Please write to me as much as possible until the wedding. It would be nice to get to know my husband before I marry him. Sincerely yours, the bride.”

For the following days, you and Zuko exchange multiple letters; you have one waiting for you every morning, receive a reply by midday, and end each night wishing him pleasant dreams. You learn that he’s very intelligent and, though quite subdued, has a sense of humor much like your own. He has a passion for weaponry and the art of combat, as well as for storytelling and music (he tells you that dancing has recently been unbanned in the Fire Nation, and wonders if you’ll be able to teach him any Water Tribe dances; you promise to help as much as you can). The more you write to him, the less daunting the idea of your marriage seems, and you find yourself feeling excited by the idea of finally meeting him.

The day of your wedding starts early. You’re woken at dawn, fed a breakfast of tea and jook (both prepared by Iroh, and sent on a tray beside a polished wooden box - inside is a traditional hair comb and a note from the old man, explaining that the comb was given to his mother by his father on their wedding day; the gesture sends you to tears), then sent to the palace baths to be buffed and primed for your wedding attire.

You’re stripped down and steeped in multiple perfumed liquids, scrubbed with an array of soaps and exfoliants, and washed so thoroughly you think your handlers might have exposed an entirely new layer of skin. They wax every single hair from your body as well; you only attempt to draw the line when they reach your nether area.

“Please don’t,” you request, firm but not commanding. “I don’t think I’ll need it.”

The beautician scoffs at you, pushing you back onto the waxing table and forcefully spreading your legs apart.

“Foolish girl,” she huffs. “Of course you will. Royal marriages must always be consummated on the wedding night - the Firelord will want as many heirs as you can give him, as soon as possible.”

Her brute words make you sick to your stomach, and as she rips away the hair between your thighs, tears roll down your cheeks from both pain and horror. You want to believe the man who’s been writing to you for the past five days would never force himself onto you in the name of tradition, but it dawns on you once again that you don’t truly know him, and can’t anticipate his actions.

Once you’ve been wrung out from your time at the bath house, you’re sent back to your sleeping chambers, where you’re pleased to find not only lunch waiting for you, but visitors as well.

“Katara!” you cry, flying across the room and into her arms. She laughs, hugging you so tightly you can hardly breathe.

“Oh, I’ve missed you!” Katara cries, whirling you around a few times before setting you back onto your feet. “You already look so beautiful! How do you feel?”

“I’m terrified,” you tell her, “but so much happier now that you’re here.”

“Don’t forget me!”

Aang waves from behind Katara and you shout with glee, greeting him in the same manner you did her. He also crushes himself against you, and when you pull away, you cup his face between your hands.

“You look older!” you exclaim, squeezing his cheeks. “You grow every time I see you!”

Aang laughs, pushing your hands away with a pink blush creeping over his nose and ears.

“I’m a grown man, and the avatar,” he says, teasingly poking your shoulder. “You can’t keep treating me like I’m still twelve.”

“I can and I will,” you jest, lightly punching him in the stomach. He cackles and puts you in a (gentle) headlock, rubbing his knuckles into your skull to tangle your freshly washed hair.

“Hey, kids, that’s enough,” Sokka scolds playfully as he enters the room. “Let’s eat, otherwise I’ll be way too tempted by the spread at the reception tonight.”

Lunch with your siblings is the last moment of relative calm you have before the wedding and its reality truly start to set in. After the meal, Sokka and Aang leave to help Zuko with his own preparations, Katara staying to help you with yours. Your handlers navigate you into your dress, a traditional gown and robes made of many layers of fine silk and embroidered with dragons and native Fire Nation flowers; the train and sleeves fall so far behind you, you worry about tripping or scuffing the fabric. Once you’re dressed, your face is painted white, your features then outlined as if they were being drawn anew into your skin. You hardly recognize yourself once the handlers are finished with you, the anxiety you felt upon learning of your engagement returning with newfound ferocity.

Katara is the one to style your hair. Keeping with custom, she knots a portion of it atop your head in a tight bun, using the comb Iroh gave you to hold it in place. She then takes the remainder of your hair and braids it into two sections on each side of your face, the way it would be worn in the Water Tribe; she laces each braid with a string of beads from home, crystalline blue totems to ensure happiness and long life hanging at the end of each, contrasting beautifully with your gown. She cries when she steps back to look at you, carefully dabbing at her tears so as not to ruin her own makeup and dress.

“You’re so gorgeous,” she tells you. “I’m so glad Sokka never married you like he said he would, he would look awful at the alter next to you.”

You laugh, opening your arms and hugging her tightly, forcing your own tears back for the sake of the effort that’s been put into your costume.

For the last few minutes before the wedding, you’re alone; you stand outside the doors of the palace’s grand courtyard, flanked on both sides by guards, listening nervously as Iroh (who’s officiating, per his nephew’s request) praises you and recites a poem in your honor. His sentiments are exceedingly affectionate and should move you, but all you can think of is Zuko; what will he think of you? Will he like you as much in person as he did in writing? Was he just pretending to like you for the sake of your union? What if he didn’t think you were pretty? What if, like the beautician said, he forced you to sleep with him tonight, simply because it’s what’s meant to be done? You chew at your nails, biting them so hard that some of them start to bleed.

Music swells from inside the courtyard, and suddenly the doors before you swing open. You hold your head as high as you can, stepping forward with as much grace as you can manage and beginning to traverse the impossibly long aisle to the wedding altar. You breathe deeply, scanning the group of people standing before it - you see Katara first, and she nods encouragingly, looking like she’s about to cry all over again. Your eyes sweep over to Sokka, standing beside her, and he seems somewhat shocked by your appearance - not that you blame him, seeing as you look like a complete stranger, even to yourself. Iroh gazes at you from the center of the altar, wearing the expression of a proud father that makes you wish Hakoda were there. Aang stands beside Zuko, and you can tell from his face that he was bored by this whole display until you emerged from hiding; you stifle your laughter at his predictable, endearing disposition.

Finally, your eyes fall on the groom. The first thing you notice is his stare, cutting into you as he watches you approach; his chiseled, angular features have fallen into an awed expression, one that causes a giddy tickle in your chest. He’s tall, slim, with broad shoulders that carry his wedding robes proudly - his clothing matches yours, the only difference being the armored sheath across his chest that signals his status as ruler of the Fire Nation. You’re reminded that his father wore it before him, and a shudder runs through you as you recall all you suffered at his hands; you push it from your mind, climbing the altar steps to stand beside your betrothed. He gently takes your arm, a warm, timid smile breaking across his lips.

“Spirits,” Iroh addresses the crowd, “we gather before you to join this man, this woman, and our two great nations in a union of peace and prosperity. With your blessing and guidance, their souls will form two halves of a great whole, coming together to foster a new era of love and commitment not just for their people, but for each other. The bride and groom will now recite their vows.”

Iroh nods towards you, and you lower yourself onto your knees, bowing before the Firelord. You clear your throat, hoping that the entire country doesn’t hear the quiver in your voice.

“My lord,” you begin, “I give myself to you as completely as I give myself to my tribe. I swear, from this day forward, to walk confidently by your side in all your endeavors, to uphold the honor of our nations and families, and to be a guiding light into the future for every citizen of the Fire Nation. I will be your support, your comfort, and your ally in all aspects of our life together, and will serve you as loyally and dutifully as you serve me.”

You stand, taking one of the rings that sits upon the altar and slipping it onto Zuko’s finger; his skin is warm, his palms rough, and he shakes as violently as you do.

“I give you this ring as a symbol of our union, to represent the bond that holds us for all our days.”

Once you finish, thankful you didn’t stumble over your words or forget them completely, Zuko kneels, mirroring the way you bowed to him.

“My lady,” he recites, “by my word, I will serve you honorably and affectionately for all our time together. If you should ask for my compassion, I will give it; if you should seek after my heart, I will offer it willingly; and if I should stray from my path, I will follow you back onto it. I vow to you my devotion, and to bring you happiness and freedom. I trust in you the power to lead and govern my people as justly as I do.”

He stands and takes the other ring, delicately placing it as you did his.

“I give you this ring as a symbol of our union, to represent the bond that holds us for all our days.”

In most weddings, this would be the moment when the bride and groom embrace each other in a devoted, passionate kiss; instead, Zuko takes your arm and you face the court of respected leaders and diplomats from across the four nations, gripping each other tightly - you hold each other as if you’re the only support the other has to keep standing. Iroh’s typically soft, pleasant voice booms from behind you:

“I present the lord and lady of the great Fire Nation.”

Everyone in attendance folds onto their hands and knees, bowing as the band once again begins to play. You descend from the altar, your head feeling like it’s floating miles above your body, and exit through the doors you’d been shivering behind only minutes before - this time, with your husband beside you.

#muerta's works #two halves #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko x you #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x you #prince zuko #prince zuko fanfic #zuko fanfic #zuko fanfiction #prince zuko fanfiction #atla fanfic

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the-girl-in-the-box · 3 years ago

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Not Today XXXVI

A/N: So! Another update a week later! Unfortunately, due to my schedule, this seems to be about what I am capable of at the moment- an update of this somewhere around Saturday night or Sunday morning, and an update on Can You Imagine? somewhere around Tuesday afternoon. As that is the case, please be on the lookout for new chapters following that schedule until things calm down on my end! If things slow down, or if I somehow manage to get ahead, then I will HAPPILY begin to post more often once again! However, if that does not come as soon as I would like, this does seem to be doable, and it does seem to be doable for the near future. With that said, another pretty major canon divergence has begun in this chapter! Hopefully, I’ve hinted at it well enough without outright spoiling it ;) And, either way, I hope you enjoy the chapter, and look forward to updating this again next weekend! Skål!

Summary: When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

Oleg wasted no time. Little more than a day passed after they’d managed to get Hvitserk cleaned up, and he, Ivar, and Asta were being called to court before him. Well, before him and Katia, of course. Asta and Ivar were, understandably, a bit nervous about this meeting. Oleg had proven himself unpredictable, and though they both knew they’d not let him touch Hvitserk, they didn’t exactly want Oleg and Katia to know they were plotting against him just yet. So, they would have to be careful, and pray that Hvitserk was as well.

Just before they went into the room, Asta stopped Hvitserk, looking up at him seriously. “You warned me once to be careful of Ivar,” she whispered. “Now I’m warning you, be careful of Oleg.”

“Were you careful, Princess?” Hvitserk asked her with a pointed smirk and a small chuckle, and she rolled her eyes amusedly.

“I was,” she answered. “Until I no longer had need to be. But Oleg isn’t Ivar. I know what happened to Sigurd, but I know Ivar regrets what he did that day. Oleg killed his brother Askold, and I truly do not believe he could care less. He treats his nephew horribly, and Ivar and I have done all we can to stand between them, but there’s only so much we can do.” Hvitserk nodded a little as Asta let out a small sigh. “And that doesn’t even reach Katia,” she said.

“Katia?”

“Katia, Oleg’s wife.”

Hvitserk’s eyes grew large. “She is more dangerous than Oleg?” he asked in disbelief.

“In her own way,” Asta answered vaguely. “She’s cunning, I see that in her eyes. That, and beautiful, seductive, attentive…”

Hvitserk lifted a brow now. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Ivar needed to be warned that you were going to leave him,” he joked, and Asta chuckled.

“I’m not,” she assured Hvitserk. “But as good as those traits sound, that is why they’re the problem. They are good, and she’s almost too good. I can’t help my suspicions.”

“Suspicions that…?” Hvitserk prompted.

“That she’s hiding something.”

They spent little more time talking about those who currently ruled over Kiev, and soon rejoined Ivar to step into the throne room, looking up to where Oleg sat on Igor’s throne, Katia lounging by his feet. What Asta didn’t notice was the way Hvitserk’s eyes widened just a bit upon seeing her. Ivar was the first of them to speak up.

“Prince Oleg,” he greeted. “Princess Katia, your Highnesses. Allow me to present my brother, Hvitserk, just lately risen from the dead.” Asta had to keep herself from giving a roll of her eyes. Ivar was dramatic, even without watching him on the other side of Hvitserk, Asta could see that.

Hvitserk gave a simple, small bow, and greeted the pair, “Your Highness.”

“Another son of Ragnar Lothbrok,” Oleg commented curiously. “You are most welcome.” Hvitserk gave something of a small, half smile as Oleg informed him, “You arrive at interesting times.”

“So I understand,” Hvitserk answered. “My brother has told me that you intend to attack our homeland.”

Ivar glanced between the two men anxiously, and Asta noticed this, having glanced over toward him to see what he thought of Hvitserk revealing this, that they had talked. Clearly, he was wanting to know Oleg’s thoughts on this, far more than he was having any of his own thoughts on it at the moment. And so, her eyes turned instead to Oleg, in time to catch him almost laughing.

He hummed, before answering Hvitserk, “It was once my homeland. I’m only reclaiming the past. I trust you will be happy to join King Ivar and myself in this great undertaking.”

So, he went with the lie. She and Ivar knew the truth, that any papers giving Oleg claim to Kattegat were forgeries. There was an assumption then, Asta realized- Oleg didn’t believe Ivar would have told Hvitserk this, nor did he believe she had done so, herself. Interesting.

Hvitserk chuckled a little. “I have nowhere else to go,” he confessed, and all but Asta laughed slightly- though, she did give something of a small huff, emulating laughter, as not to tip anyone off. Truthfully, she hated that Björn and Ubbe had turned their backs on him. Sure, he had killed Lagertha, who they had both loved, but this was their brother, their little brother. A part of herself whispered that Ivar was too, and she found herself suddenly far less surprised.

“Hearing this just makes me all the more glad to know Ivar found you,” Asta said, turning and putting a hand on Hvitserk’s arm. “That, and the simple fact that we have been reunited.”

Hvitserk offered her a small smile, and replied, “Yes, I am also very happy to see you again, and to be reunited with you, Asta.” Asta smiled at him sweetly, and squeezed his arm before releasing him as he turned back to Oleg. “And, I am at your service, Prince Oleg. I, too, need to reclaim my past.”

“The Prince and I are so happy to have you at our court, Hvitserk. Ivar has spoken a lot about you.”

Asta hadn’t expected Katia to speak up when she did, and turned to her with a curious expression. She watched her stand, and start to make her way down the stairs, moving in such a way that she demanded all attention be on her. Freydis hadn’t moved like that, Asta remembered. Even as a Queen, she had just moved like any other woman. Katia was good, Asta wanted to believe, but Freydis had been sweet, and warm, and gentle, in ways Katia was not. She swallowed hard as she remembered her, and closed her eyes briefly to stem any tears which wanted to leak from them.

When her eyes reopened, Katia was standing with Ivar now, and continuing, “When you were children, when you jumped ship… He told me that you always believed you were fated to be together, however many times fate itself seemed to pull you apart.”

She smirked up at him knowingly, and Ivar met this with a tight smile, nodding slightly to acknowledge what she was saying was true, and then she was moving on to stand in front of Hvitserk.

“I find, myself, that fate works in… mysterious ways,” she said, and rested a hand against Hvitserk’s chest. Asta lifted a brow as she watched the two lock eyes, a million words seeming to pass between them, and yet not one could she translate for herself. Looking then to Oleg, Asta found it curious how truly, deeply unsettled the man appeared.

Katia had behaved similarly with herself and Ivar for quite some time now, and yet Oleg had never seemed all that bothered. But, he believed them to be married. Perhaps it was, then, that he believed neither of them to be a threat to his own marriage? And with Hvitserk being unwed and also unattached… Who knew what concerns were beginning to work their way into his mind, as Katia finally returned to him. Both his eyes, and Hvitserk’s, followed her, until she returned to her place at Oleg’s side, lounging on the dais just in front of him.

“Our army’s assembling,” Oleg began, clearly wanting to return to a more professional topic. “Tonight, you will watch some of it parade past the Palace.” He paused in his speaking to reach down and run a hand through Katia’s hair, and she seemed to almost pull away from him, though not quite, an uncomfortable expression crossing her face. So, there was trouble brewing between them. “It should be an interesting experience,” he finished, and nodded to dismiss the Vikings who stood before him.

Ivar and Hvitserk exchanged a look which was unreadable to the Prince, but Asta… that woman was harder to read than the two men combined. He could see her looking into the eyes of his wife, seeming to silently communicate with her. How troublesome this so-called Prophet was, and yet, how bold. He slid his hand through Katia’s hair once more, trying to draw her attention away from Asta, and it worked. But there was something distant in her eyes now, and he looked up again to watch as Asta followed her husband and his brother from the room, wondering what thoughts the little witch might have just put into his beloved wife’s mind.

It didn’t take five minutes, once Asta had reached Hvitserk and Ivar, for her to grit out, “I want to choke him.”

“Who, Oleg?” Hvitserk questioned, tilting his head a little.

“Who else?” she almost hissed.

“Well, he’s the obvious choice, but I couldn’t blame you if you meant Ivar-” He was interrupted by a grunt as Ivar elbowed him in the ribs.

“Say what you want, but Asta would never do that to me,” Ivar said confidently. “She loves me too much for that.”

Asta’s cheeks turned a slight shade of pink, and she rolled her eyes. “Just for that, you’re dead by morning, Ragnarsson,” she teased, though her tone held very little levity to it. Ivar laughed, and Hvitserk found himself chuckling as well.

“So, you two for real then, hmm?” he asked curiously. “I mean, I saw it back in Kattegat, but I wouldn’t have thought after everything that happened…”

“Who else did we have?” Ivar pointed out, looking over at Hvitserk. “Who else did I have, hmm? Asta is the only one who did not ever leave me, who never betrayed me. There is no one else I would have trusted enough.”

Asta smiled softly at his words, and slipped a hand into his, wrapping her free arm around it and holding him a little closer as they walked. “Nor I, darling,” she replied, and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. Ivar turned to her with a soft smile.

Hvitserk realized as he watched the pair that he hadn’t seen Ivar look at anyone that way aside from Freydis, nor Asta. Though he hadn’t known her long enough to know if she’d looked at someone that way before, he knew it was quite a special look. It was love, he saw in their eyes as they looked at each other, and he smiled slightly. With all luck, and the favor of the gods, he hoped he might also find someone to share that sort of look with one day.

They decided shortly after this that they were hungry, and seeing as they had not been to see Igor yet that day, busy as they’d been with Oleg, Asta and Ivar agreed they would go and fetch him. Hvitserk, having liked the boy well enough the previous time they had met, had no complaint about this.

Once they had him, they went to one of the smaller dining areas, and were served a meal, which they all sat around the table to eat. A light conversation was kept up for most of the meal, until it seemed to die out naturally. That was all well and good, though, as Ivar had something he’d been meaning to bring up. And, he did. He looked up at Hvitserk, who was still eating, and opened with a casual, “So.”

His brother looked up from his meal and prompted him, “So?”

Igor also looked up now, glancing between the two curiously as Ivar questioned, “What do you think?”

“About Oleg?” Hvitserk asked, a bit confused. Hadn’t they discussed him just a few hours prior?

“No, not about Oleg,” Ivar replied as though it should be obvious. “About his wife.”

“I thought she was… attractive?” Hvitserk said. “Rather provocative.” Asta smirked.

But Ivar was clearly not satisfied, and in fact, seemed a little irritated almost at Hvitserk’s response. “Nothing else?” he pressed.

“No,” Hvitserk answered. “What else?”

Ivar was stunned. Asta couldn’t keep herself from chuckling quietly at that expression of his. She recalled once likening it to a startled duck. He hadn’t quite believed her, but she’d still had a good laugh about it with him. She wondered if Hvitserk would find it amusing, as she did.

“You look like a startled duck again, darling,” she told him, and Hvitserk choked.

“You do,” he agreed easily.

Ivar now looked at Asta as if she had betrayed him, and he was deeply hurt by this. “You said you would never tell!” he accused, and she giggled.

“I still haven’t,” she defended. “In fact, I don’t think Hvitserk or Igor would even think there was something to tell, had you not just given it away.”

Ivar tried to stammer some kind of answer about that out, but only met the expectant eyes of both his brother, and Igor. She was right, he definitely brought that one on himself. “Ah, she said I looked like a startled duck one time, and I said we should not let it out that I was so easily stunned by her. There,” he said. “Anyway, Hvitserk.” Asta giggled at how eager he was to move on. “She didn’t… remind you of anyone?”

“Katia?” he clarified, and Ivar nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “You saw her. You know who she looks like.”

“I do?”

“Of course you do, brother,” Ivar replied. “Freydis.”

Hvitserk blinked a few times, and Asta realized the ‘startled duck’ face might just have been hereditary. “Your… wife?” Ivar nodded and made a small sound as if to confirm this. “Freydis is dead, Ivar, I- I saw her body-”

“Yes, yes, yes, I know,” Ivar said nonchalantly. “I killed her. But they are identical. So much so, Asta and I at first believed she had come back somehow.”

Hvitserk nodded slowly as he took this in, seeming to think for a moment, before he finally said decisively, “You’re still crazy, Ivar.”

Ivar deflated a little. Before, whenever Hvitserk had said that, he’d let it roll right off his back like water off a startled duck’s wings. Asta decided to step in.

“It’s true, Hvitserk,” she said. “Take a closer look at her, next time we are all together. I know you didn’t know her overly well, Freydis, but… the resemblance is uncanny, at the least.”

Hvitserk sighed as he heard Asta backing Ivar up on this, not just letting him claim she believed it as well. Without truly believing it, he doubted the Princess would have said anything. “Alright,” he conceded. “I’ll take a better look next time we see her.”

Asta nodded, and offered him a small smile as a way of thanking him. But, the smile turned into a smirk, and she chuckled. “I don’t think you’ll mind doing that anyway, will you?” she teased. “I saw the way the two of you looked at each other.” She lifted her brows a bit, pressing her lips together in a knowing smile as Hvitserk tilted his head confusedly.

“What do you mean?” he asked, and Asta laughed lightly.

“Come on, really?” she questioned. “I could have drawn my sword right then and cut the tension between you, it was so thick.”

“No, you’d just have cut off her hand,” Hvitserk countered, which only made Asta laugh more.

“Indeed I would have!” she agreed. “Which makes one question, why was she touching you in the first place?”

Hvitserk paused, sitting back and blinking a few times as his brows creased together. It was a good question. Why had she touched him? She hadn’t needed to. Asta was right about all of this, wasn’t she? Katia had touched him unnecessarily, and in doing so, had proven her unpredictability. She really was just as dangerous as Asta said. But, did she truly look like Freydis?

When that night came, he was dumbfounded to say the answer was a resounding yes. Katia did bear a very uncanny resemblance to Freydis, and he suddenly found himself wondering just how hard that was on his brother and his not-wife. With all the talk of the other Russian prince, one whose name had been funny to Hvitserk, as it had sounded much like the word animal to him, and Ivar’s alliance with him to overthrow Oleg, it had slipped his mind to be on the lookout for. But, when they were confronted with her, it had slapped him in the face. If someone had told him they were twins, he’d have believed it.

Now, he stood on the complete opposite side of her, with Asta to his right, Ivar to hers, then Oleg, Igor, and finally Katia on his other side. He wanted to take another look, but the army had begun to march out, and he knew it would be suspicious if he was watching Oleg’s wife, instead. So, he turned his attention to the massive army, and tried to pay attention to what Oleg said as they marched by.

“Who can resist such an army?” he was currently questioning. “Nobody. Not King Harald. Not Björn Ironside. They are like children. They, and their gods, will be destroyed. This, my good friends, is the end of paganism. The end of the pagan gods.”

Asta whipped her head around to look at Ivar, concern for him and this endeavour filling her. This was quickly shaping up to seem like a horrible idea, and she could see the same thoughts circulating in his mind behind his watering eyes. This, if Oleg was to be believed, was meant to be the end of his gods, and Hvitserk’s, and all those of the people of Scandinavia.

She turned back to watch the army, a newfound look of horror in her eyes. The Vikings had brought a Heathen army down on her home once, and killed many people simply for being Christian. Now, Oleg would bring a Christian army down on the people of Kattegat, and many would be slaughtered, simply for being Heathen. Once more, she turned back to Ivar, and as soon as she moved his eyes landed back on her. For once, both were perfectly readable, and their expressions revealed quite the same train of thought.

What have we done?

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aitarose · 4 years ago

Text

ROSES | ZUKO

PAIRING: Zuko x Reader x Azula [fem]

PLOT: Zuko’s main focus was always Azula’s health, that was until he reconciled with the girl behind all of her improvement—from then on, all he saw was Y/N. companion piece to thorns

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, mutual pining, unrequited love (azula)

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

A/N: this connects to the events that occur in thorns. this piece can be read as a standalone, but thorns gives more detail to the reader’s feelings and struggles with azula

ALT. END: Blossoms | AZULA’S POV: Thorns

MY MASTERLIST

orange · roses : a symbol of love in the sense of enthusiasm and passion. bright colors denote life, energy, passion, and excitement—whilst softer hues speak of sincerity and gratitude.

Year three, day twelve.

Zuko groaned, facepalming as he listened to the pattering footsteps of his advisors leaving the throne room. His shoulders dropped, the formal demeanor he usually wore dissolving almost immediately.

Meetings with his advisors were far from his favorite of the Fire Lord duties, but they were necessary to reassure the people that he was doing right by them. Their trust and support was what held the dignity of his rule in balance.

This meeting in particular had gone on for far too long. His advisors were always able to drone on about his least favorite topic, the topic of Azula’s mental state of health.

His sister had been in recovery for a little over three years now, keeping her promise to him that she would learn to be better. Azula’s goal was to understand compassion and honor—and maybe even love.

Zuko had been taken back by the idea at first, Azula having brought it up during her time in the Fire Nation’s most secure prison cell. He didn’t think she was capable of knowing guilt, but happily obliged to her wishes.

He and his advisor’s had determined that she’d be given a total of five years to begin her rehabilitation. Five years to prove to his nation that she was no longer the monster that they knew her as.

It’d been going fairly well as of yet, only a few tantrums and outbursts here and there, but overall well. Azula’s progress was undeniable, she had finally begun to leave her demons in the past.

As he entered the kitchens which were empty of any royal staff members, Zuko heaved a deep sigh. It seemed as if there was very little time that he was able to have to himself these days, constantly being bombarded with his duties.

He felt like his mind was in chaos, millions of ideas and plans storming in his head like a hurricane. The storm brewing beneath his facade was overwhelming. His only wish was for a simple breath of air.

While Zuko sat in silence, leaning against the large counter with his head held in his hands, his ears perked up to the sound of the door opening.

Without bothering to look up, he waved his hand in admission, not interested in whatever servant had come to fetch their leader. “Not now,” he called out, “the Fire Lord is out of service for the day.”

Whoever had accompanied him began giggling, their voice ringing in Zuko’s ears like the melody of a choir. His head shot up, knowing full well that it was no servant interrupting his time alone.

“Y/N!” He smoothed out his wrinkled robes, fixing his hair in a hurry as she gracefully stepped into the room—gracefully meaning that she ran into a pile of pots and pans before tripping over her own feet.

Zuko rushed over to help her stand, taking one hand in his while the other supported the rest of her body. This wasn’t uncommon, Y/N had a tendency to make a mess wherever she went, unintentionally of course.

She’d been working in the palace for the past three years to help Azula honor her promise to the nation as the advisor’s were unable to put all of their trust into Zuko alone.

Which had actually been an extremely helpful conclusion. Without the help of Y/N, Zuko didn’t think Azula would’ve been able to make any progress, let alone the amount she had made now. Y/N was the light to Azula’s darkness.

She was also the girl that Zuko had a little bit of a crush on, which he’d admitted to himself early on in their relationship—not that he’d call their relationship a “relationship”. Zuko wasn’t actually sure what they were.

When he’d met Y/N, she was nothing but a tool that he was forced to provide for his advisors. There hadn’t been many applicants due to the dark cloud of Azula’s stigma, but Y/N had shone against the few that’d applied.

He’d selected her himself, reading through her resume and immediately liking what he saw—and after speaking to her in person for the very first time, he knew that if anyone could help Azula, it’d be her.

What he didn’t know, was that he’d begin to notice how utterly and undeniably amazing Y/N was.

She was kind to the servants, never failing to remember their names. She’d wish each and every one of them a happy birthday, even if she’d never spoken to them before.

The nation’s people were in love with her, thankful that she was brave enough to take on the challenge of spending one-on-one time with the princess, and for the pure goodness of her heart.

Zuko had become enthralled by her mentality and love for life on the first day of Azula’s treatment. However, he’d still been involved with Mai, leaving little to no room to explore friendships with other women.

But now that he and Mai had broken up, Zuko was free to make his own decisions without having to worry about her constant attitude. Mai was in no way a bad person, but she was a bad person for Zuko.

As he helped Y/N to her feet, Zuko’s face was flushed bright red. If he was being honest, she made him nervous—more nervous than any person had ever made him.

“That was a pretty bad fall,” he said sheepishly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his robes to avoid Y/N seeing how much he was shaking. “Are you alright?”

Y/N smiled, her expression warming Zuko’s heart. “I’m perfectly fine, Fire Lord Zuko. You don’t need to worry, I’m quite used to falling over.”

He laughed, dropping his head to hide the deepening blush dawning his face. Zuko took a breath, preparing to end the disaster of an interaction so he couldn’t embarrass himself any further.

“Well then,” he started, beginning to back away from Y/N in the most natural way he could manage. “Is there anything I can do for you before you’re on your way?”

Y/N nodded her head, gesturing to the large kitchen space surrounding them. “There is actually!” She exclaimed, pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper from her bag.

“I wanted to surprise Azula with some of her favorite treats, but I’m afraid that I’m not sure what those are. This is all I have to work with.”

Zuko peered over her shoulder, studying the various names of deserts and snacks that had been carelessly written across the page. He knew by the handwriting that it’d been Azula that had given Y/N the list.

His sister hadn’t made it easy on Y/N, only providing a few of the many Fire Nation delicacies that she enjoyed—but Zuko was going to make sure that Y/N’s plan went perfectly.

“I’d be honored to help you with this, Y/N.” He grinned, taking the list from her hands and heading towards the exit. Y/N stood still behind him, shocked that Zuko would jump to the task of her aid.

She stumbled, doing her best to follow along without causing more havoc. “Are you sure?” She asked, concern laced in her voice. “Don’t you have any Fire Lord duties to attend to, Fire Lord Zuko?”

Zuko shook his head, stopping to a halt in order to be beside her. He looked into her eyes, trying to show that he was unbothered by his titles and that his duties could wait.

“Call me Zuko.” He requested, hating the way his authoritarian name sounded coming from her lips. “And of course I can join you. The Fire Nation can miss me for one day.”

Y/N’s face lit up, excited to hear that she had the honor of calling her leader by his first name. “Okay Zuko,” she trailed on, grabbing one of the woven baskets sitting on top of the counter. “I guess we’re spending the day together.”

Zuko nodded, grabbing a basket of his own before holding the door open for Y/N, which she gladly walked through, proud of herself for befriending the most famous member of the Fire Nation—who’d finally come up with his response.

“Then, I guess it’s a date.”

Year three, day eighty-seven.

Zuko cursed to himself, pricking his fingers on yet another rose bush. Little scratches and marks graced his fingertips, encouraging his hatred for the thorn covered stems.

He’d been in the royal gardens for what had seemed like hours, searching for the most perfect flower he could find. However, with spring time just beginning, there were few plants that had fully grown.

Normally Zuko wouldn’t be caught dead in the middle of the gardens, dirt all over his formal wear, and leaves caught in his traditional bun—but for Y/N, there was no telling the lengths Zuko would go to make her happy.

They’d been seeing each other romantically ever since their trip to the market in search of deserts. While their goal had been to provide food for Azula, he and his love had ended up spending all of their time at the beach.

Distractions had come early on, intrusive thoughts and worries erupted in Zuko’s mind. Y/N, having noticed this, had suggested that they worry about Azula another time.

He’d wholeheartedly agreed with her, happily getting to know and understand Y/N for the entirety of their night, quickly falling for her natural charms. It wasn’t long after that when Zuko had asked her on a real date, one without the original nerves.

Which brought them to now. He and Y/N’s relationship had progressed beautifully, Zuko could confidently say that he’d never felt as seen as he did with her.

His flaws complimented her strengths and vice versa. They both knew that they were nowhere near perfect on their own, Zuko could pick out each and every one of Y/N’s flaws without hesitation and he was positive that she could do the same for him.

Y/N wasn’t held on some high pedestal where she could do no wrong in Zuko’s mind. She was just a human girl with human qualities that he happened to fall in love with.

The girl that he loved who deserved the gift of the most amazing, gorgeous, and beautiful rose in the royal gardens. A rose of only the highest quality that Zuko’s eyes had finally landed on.

He reached down into the thorn filled bushes, wincing as he plucked out a single flower. His face lit up at the sight of the petal’s soft orange hue, seemingly in the midst of bloom.

The stem was free of the pesky thorns, smooth and welcoming of his grasp. The flower itself seemed to embody his love for Y/N perfectly, his love that he was planning on admitting to his girlfriend later in the day.

He hustled out of the gardens, quickly heading towards the kitchens where he’d informed the staff of his evening plans. Zuko had asked for the whole night off, wishing to be free of his lordly duties, and thankfully getting his wish granted.

The fresh breeze whipped across his cheeks, rejuvenating his senses as he rushed through the halls and past the courtyard, barely taking notice of the two hysterical girls sitting under Y/N’s favorite cherry blossom tree.

Zuko’s steps halted, being frozen in awe at the contagious beauty that was emitting from his girlfriend. Her smile lit up the whole space, outshining the sun itself in his eyes.

As Azula took notice of her lurking brother, Zuko frantically stuffed the rose in his pocket, crossing his fingers that neither his sister nor Y/N had seen his surprise.

He waved sheepishly at Azula, hoping that his posture looked natural and not at all shuddering in complete nerves. Zuko was counting down the seconds to which Azula would call him out for his strange behavior, silently thanking the spirits when she chose not to.

“Zuzu?” His sister called out, her voice echoing among the wind. Y/N perked up at the sound of his name, curiously looking out to see Zuko’s awkward position. “What is it that you need, brother?”

Zuko shrugged, internally panicking and attempting to come up with a reasonable excuse for interrupting Azula’s time with Y/N. Normally he’d never intrude on Azula’s Y/N hours, believing that she deserved to have fun with her best friend without his presence.

His feet began to rock beneath him, his heels alternating positions on the stone ground. Zuko gestured to Y/N, pointing at her in response. “I need to speak with, Y/N. I have some business that we need to cover, it’ll only take a second.”

Y/N stood up as fast as lightning, nearly falling over in doing so. Zuko chuckled at her eagerness, eager to talk to her as well not having had any time together earlier in the day.

“I heard that the Fire Lord requested me?” Y/N grinned, standing beside Zuko at a comfortable distance, not wanting to flaunt their relationship in front of Azula for some unknown reason.

Zuko brushed it off, knowing that whatever it was that Azula and Y/N had was nothing but a friendship. He didn’t want to be jumping to conclusions, no matter how confused he was about it all. Y/N would tell him whenever she was ready.

“What could the infamous Fire Lord need with someone such as myself?” Y/N pondered jokingly. Zuko rolled his eyes at her ridiculousness, ruffling her already unruly hair in doing so.

He felt a smile bear his cheeks, unable to contain the utter joy that came with being with Y/N. “I just wanted to tell you that you have plans for tonight.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, giggling at the information she’d been given. “I have plans?” She repeated, her eyes sparkling in the sunlight. “And who might these plans be with?”

Zuko laughed as she went along with his ruse, her humor was also one of the million things that he loved about her. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, Lady Y/N.”

She shook her head in amusement while beginning to turn away from Zuko, feeling the need to return to Azula. She’d already kept the princess waiting for far too long, finally having gifted Azula with her surprise deserts. “I suppose I will.”

As her figure began to retreat, Zuko’s mind was at war with itself. On one hand, he wanted to wait until that night to reveal his gift to Y/N—but on the other, he couldn’t contain his excitement.

Choosing to follow his latter instinct, Zuko reached out to take hold of Y/N’s forearm. She let out a gasp, nearly running straight into his chest. Her eyes radiated with confusion, wondering what Zuko could possibly still need.

He took one of her hands into his, relishing in the feeling of the perfect fit, before revealing the blooming rose that had been stuffed into his robe’s pockets and offering it to the girl in front of him.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed bright red, becoming a much deeper hue than the rose itself. “What’s this for?” She asked, gently taking the rose from Zuko’s light grip.

Zuko watched as she spun the stem around in her palm, studying the beauty of the flower. He once again contradicted himself, most likely ruining his evening plans in doing so.

“For the sole reason that I love you.” He admitted shyly, praying that she felt the same. His heart thumped in his chest, jumping at the idea of her being in love with him.

Y/N reached forward to wrap her arms around his neck, her hands playing with the stray hairs on Zuko’s head. She pulled him in for a tight hug, before whispering into his ear.

“I figure you’d meant to save that for later.” He could hear the grin on her face through the tone of her voice. “I suppose I might as well save my words for later, considering you couldn’t yourself.”

With that, Y/N pressed a light kiss to his cheek, lingering slightly before skipping back towards Azula—who’d begun to look bothered by their intimate interaction.

Zuko’s hand caressed his own cheek, his mind doing a dance of its own at the news that Y/N felt the exact same way. This day was amazing, he’d determined. She was amazing.

Year four, day two-hundred and one.

Fear. That was the only emotion on Zuko’s mind. Fear of rejection. Fear of being alone. Fear of losing the person that mattered most in his life. The person who he considered to be up in the ranks of Iroh and Ursa.

It’d been over a year and a half since he and Y/N had begun dating and about one year past the date in which they’d admitted their unconditional love for one another.

Their relationship had only gotten more close and intimate since then, causing Zuko to come to the realization that he wanted to spend the rest of his life by her side. There was no one else for him, he was sure of it.

Of course, the only logical thing to do would be to propose, which had caused an immense amount of stress on Zuko’s life.

He’d gone and gotten Y/N’s parents blessing, his own family’s blessing, and his advisor’s blessing before going out to prepare for his proposal. Zuko had picked out the finest jeweler in the Fire Nation, helping design and create the perfect ring for his beloved.

Now, the only thing left to do was actually propose. Which was one of the few things Zuko was certain would happen that night. What he wasn’t certain of, was if Y/N would accept.

“Please, please, please.” Zuko mumbled to himself, standing outside of Y/N’s chambers, itching to knock on her door. Every nerve in his body was screaming with positivity. “Please let this go to plan.”

The entrance swung open, Zuko’s hand still midair. Y/N was bouncing in excitement, having suspicions of the big question Zuko was meaning to pop. She’d been waiting for hours for his arrival, sitting by the door with anticipation on her mind.

“Y/N!” Zuko yelped in surprise, nearly falling over at the sight of her face so close to his own. She laughed at his unbalanced posture, glad to see the tables had turned for once.

She held out her hand, taking his in her own and led him out of the hallway and into another. “So what’s the big surprise?” She wiggled her eyebrows, trying to suppress the large smile forming on her lips.

“A little bird told me that you asked the entire staff to keep out of the kitchens tonight?” She let out her smile at the sight of Zuko’s flushed face. He shook his head in disbelief, loving the fact that his staff adored her as much as he did.

“That little bird can’t keep a secret.” He wrapped an arm around her body, leading her towards their destination—the place where they’d first discovered their connection.

As they entered the kitchen, strong smells of freshly baked bread, warm wood logs, and most prominent of all—roses, filled the room. The aroma was overwhelming, dominating all of Y/N’s senses.

Zuko pulled out her chair for her, making sure that she was comfortable before taking a seat of his own. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the ring box in his pocket, before continuing on as if everything was normal.

His plans went off without a hitch. They shared a meal, some laughter, a few kisses here and there—now came the time for Zuko’s big question. The question that would determine their entire future.

“I love you so much.” Zuko breathed out, sitting beside her at the small table. He held her hand, pressing a light kiss to the back of it and stuffed his own into his pocket.

He took out the ring box, placing it on display in his grasp above the table. “I’m well aware that you know what I’m going to ask you.” He smiled, biting his lip and looking into her beautiful eyes.

Her expression was indescribable. Tears welled in her sockets, dripping slowly down her cheeks. Her hands were covering her mouth, trying to prevent any soft sobs from escaping her lips.

“And I just want to lay everything out, before you say yes.” He explained, furrowing his eyebrows. “I don’t want you agreeing to something that you may come to hate.”

Zuko set down the box, now taking both hands into his. He squeezed them, trying to calm down Y/N’s rapid breathing. “By saying yes, you’d not only become my wife, but a leader of my people.”

“They already look up to you so much, but as the Fire Lord’s wife—their expectations could get out of hand.” Y/N nodded at his words, taking in his reservations and understanding his concerns.

“I want you to accept this proposal for the sole reason that I love you.” He confessed, having confessed it a million times before. “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Y/N leaned forwards, cupping Zuko’s face in her palms before kissing him deeply. She poured all of her emotion into the single act, expressing her feelings and acceptance of his proposal.

“You are everything to me, Zuko.” Her eyes sparkled with tears, her hands shaking. She let her arms hang loosely around his neck, bringing him even closer. “I’d love to marry you.”

Zuko felt his eyes begin to water, sweeping her into a large hug, causing the both of them to lose their balance and fall to the floor. They laughed together, radiating happiness as Zuko slipped on the ring—marking their engagement.

Year four, day two-hundred and two.

Zuko rushed through the hallways, his footsteps rapidly hitting the pavement in urgency. Staff members and servants swerved to the side, trying their best not to get in the way of the famous Fire Lord.

His hair had come undone in the midst of his sprint, his robes flapping behind him in the wind. The rain was pouring outside of the palace, washing away the clear skies that had taken up the day’s morning.

The thunder rumbled, echoing down the vast walkways, filling the palace with dread. Worry had overcome Zuko’s mind—worry for the girl who’d become his fiancée just the night before.

“Please be alright.” He mumbled to himself, stepping into their shared bedroom which was filled with the sound of her beautiful soft sobs. Zuko dropped the soaking robes, letting them fall from his shoulders before calling out. “Y/N?”

The cries began to settle, quieting for only a moment before picking up again. “I’m in here!” He heard Y/N exclaim, choking back her sadness. “Although, I’m afraid I look like quite a mess.”

Zuko shook his head, his royal mannerisms being thrown out of the door the minute his love came into view. He knelt down beside her, holding her close as she continued to let out her agony.

“One of the servants interrupted my meeting earlier.” He said quietly, his arms wrapping around her shaking figure in an attempt to calm her nerves. “They said you made a bit of a ruckus at the beach.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, resting his head on top of hers. A deep sigh escaped his lips, confusion and concern being his only emotions in that moment. “What exactly did happen at the beach?”

Y/N breathing began to even out, her sobs subsiding as she relished in the feeling of being in Zuko’s warm arms. She stared at the engagement ring resting on her finger, as she began to give the explanation that she’d been dreading.

“I told Azula about what happened last night.” Her voice sounded numb, the usual merriment and joy was void from her tone. She gulped, preparing herself for Zuko’s inevitable shock. “And she wasn’t happy, at all.”

Zuko’s eyebrows furrowed, trying to piece together why Azula wouldn’t find excitement in their happiness. Their engagement was a definite sign of love between her brother and best friend. Why wouldn’t she want them to be happy?

“What’d she do?” He asked, trying to get definite answers that would suffice the questions on his mind. “Yell? Scream? Did she hurt you?”

“No.” Y/N shook her head absentmindedly, she turned to face Zuko in his embrace, her eyes bloodshot. She bit her lip, preventing any more cries from escaping, before taking a shallow breath.

“She kissed me.”

Nothing. That was all that was running through Zuko’s head. Absolutely nothing. He had no thoughts on the matter, no opinions, no ideas that had ever even come close to that explanation.

He’d always known that Azula and Y/N were close, far closer than typical best friends would be—but he’d never guess that his sister had had feelings for the love of his life.

He’d never have guessed that his love used to have feelings for her as well.

“It just happened, I don’t know how.” Y/N explained, her eyes beginning to brim with tears once again. Zuko shushed her, bringing her closer to his chest to show her that he would always be there to comfort her.

“One second we were laughing and talking and the next thing I know she kisses me and I’m storming away.” Y/N clenched her fists, closing her eyes whilst trying to repress the anger she’d felt in that moment.

“I just don’t understand why she did this now!” She exclaimed angrily, slamming her hand onto the soft floor of the carpet. “I don’t understand why she did this after she told me that she didn’t love me, two years ago!”

Zuko felt immense rage bubble up inside of his chest. Not at all angered at the idea of them loving one another, but at the notion that Azula had intentionally broken Y/N’s heart.

He took a hold of her shaking hands, suppressing her anger with the natural comfort his presence brought her. They sat in silence with nothing but the sound of the thunder outside, holding each other as if they were all they had left.

Year five, the last day.

Serenity. That was the only thing left to feel on the wide spectrum of Zuko’s emotions. He’d found the person that brought him inner peace, someone who could calm his fire, rather than smother it.

Y/n was his soulmate, there was no denying that. He knew it, she knew it—spirits, the entire world knew it. There had never been two people more overwhelmingly compatible in all of Fire Nation history.

With the support of his people behind him, Zuko and Y/N had felt no need to keep their engagement a secret. Their only reservations being the topic of Azula, which was a sore subject on both of their minds.

Neither of them had been in contact with his sister in the past few months, afraid of pressing the issue further and making more of a mess. Y/N wanted to be on good terms with Azula, perhaps even friends again.

Azula, however, had refused Y/N’s requests for any meetings or sessions. She’d caved herself in her room, only allowing servants to come in and out with meals.

Zuko hadn’t seen his sister behave in such a manner since they were just the two little children of royalty, pitted against each other. He hadn’t seen her like this since she had her spiral.

In all honesty, Zuko was worried about Azula. He saw his sister’s improvements and the good nature breaking down her bad—but without Y/N, he didn’t know if she could continue the path upwards on her own.

Her struggles would come witness later today as Azula had accepted their formal invitation to the wedding. The wedding that they had specifically scheduled on Azula’s last day of rehabilitation for the sole purpose that she could attend.

Not that Zuko was even positive that Azula wanted to attend the ceremony. He feared that his sister was still lost in her feelings for Y/N, and wouldn’t have the strength to be present.

That’d been on the back of his mind all morning. While he was getting his robes fitted, his hair tied up—even while he was reuniting with his old friends, the friends he hadn’t seen in months.

Azula was the only thing he could think about, because while he never openly admitted it—his sister did matter to him. She actually mattered more than most things, and her feelings for his soon-to-be wife brought Zuko a sadness that he would never be rid of.

Knowing that his little sister would never be able to be with the person she loved most in the world was heartbreaking, and knowing that he was the reason behind that—it was just wrong.

Their lives hadn’t been fair growing up and he’d expected adulthood to be somewhat better than the hell they’d lived, but life wasn’t like that. It simply wasn’t.

There’s good and bad in the world. Sometimes the good outshining the bad and other times where the bad overwhelms the good, crushing it under its darkness—but despite that the world still needs balance, never tipping the scale too far one way.

With these thoughts constantly running through his brain, taught to him by Iroh in his own darkest moments, Zuko knew that Azula had a happy ending. Someone, somewhere out there, would be the person to make her happy.

He knew this by simply knowing her, and knowing the new person she’d become. He knew by the look on her face as Y/N walked down their rose covered aisle, her veil trailing behind her against the petals.

Azula’s expression was solemn, heartbreak and sadness rolled into one. However, there was a gleam in her eyes at the sight of Y/N’s smile, knowing that she’d never been the one to make her grin like that.

One glance, one second of eye contact between the two siblings gave Zuko the notion that Azula would be okay. She’d grow from this and continue on with her life, loving every second as the new and improved person she’d become.

The feeling of serenity had finally devoured Zuko’s concern, inklings of content reached his soul, settling his worries and letting his full attention focus on the beautiful girl standing in front of him.

The beautiful girl who was the perfect fit to his broken puzzle. Y/N, his perfect person—that he was now able to call his wife.

TAGS: @practicallylivesonline @cherryskyies @shell-bells-ringding @xapham @mochminnie @bombardia @lammello @user12345321 @xxspqcebunsxx @missmorosis @mysticpeacecrusade @akiris

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crowtrinkets · 4 years ago

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Cheap Shots

Asra and the Apprentice are tired after their escapade in the Arcana realm. However, two particular red-headed siblings decide some drinking in celebration is due. Just friends unwinding.

Word count: 2,907

Takes place after Asra and the Apprentice beat the devil in Asra's upright ending. References to earlier plot points in Asra's route. I feel I should clarify the “biscuit” in this fic is like an american biscuit, not a cookie.

I posted this on AO3 and wanted it to receive some love here as well. Enjoy!

—-

Asra and I stumbled out of the fountain exhaustion taking us as we fell to our knees. But the moment we looked at each other laughter filled the air. Laughter and relief. We beat the devil, binding him in his own realm and we saved the world. Not only ours but the world of the Arcana. I crawl over to Asra, pulling him into a hug, to which he returned wrapping his arms around me. We were tired from the massive amounts of magic we used but our joy and adrenaline were keeping us standing, well almost standing. While holding onto each other we tried to get up but to no avail, our legs shook as we held onto each other for balance making us laugh even more. Eventually, we stood and leaned against the edge of the fountain.

“I can’t believe we did that,” I say with a gasp.

“I can, you’re a really powerful magician MC, I didn’t doubt you for a second,” Asra says planting a kiss on my nose. I giggle at his response but I can see the pride in his eyes, feel it in his emotions as we bump shoulders together. He really does feel that way. I look down at our masquerade outfits, mine is a little dirty in some spots, a tear here or there, but for the most part, it's still together, Asra somehow managed with barely a stain at the bottom. For someone who leaves his belongings everywhere, he sure knows how to keep his clothes clean.

“We should go find the others,” I utter with a sigh. I want to make sure everyone is safe and so we can tell them the news of what happened in the Devil’s realm. Asra nods reaching his arm around my back to keep me steady. I mimic him and we slowly but surely make our way into the palace.

The first person we see when we walk in is Portia, she has a large tray with an assortment of treats, some appear to be leftovers from the masquerade rooms. I offer to help her carry the load but she insists she do it, stating that “heroes don’t carry their own food”. We follow her into the parlor and find everyone there. The room erupts into a flurry of sighs of relief, tears, and hugs. Especially between Asra and his parents. In our absence, everyone already introduced one another, after escaping Lucio's dining room and arresting the Courtiers.

After the energy died down we all sat, eating cookies and drinking tea. Asra recapped everyone on what happened and how we bound the devil. He did most of the talking, sensing I was more tired than I let on. Nadia informs us that the majority of the guests went home in the frenzy, and that tomorrow she’ll have to make a sort of announcement briefing the citizens on what exactly happened tonight. Asra and I volunteered to go with her to which she thanked us. After everyone finished their tea, Nadia offered us all to stay at the palace for the night. Everyone but Muriel gladly took it. Asra offered his room to his parents and said instead he can sleep in my room. I blush at the bold statement but I would want nothing more than to fall asleep in Asra's arms right now. Everyone made their way to their rooms, and after closing the door behind us Asra and I let out a collective sigh.

“I'm so glad Nadia allowed us to stay here another night,” I say. "I don’t think I would even be able to make it up the stairs of the shop even if we got a carriage ride," Asra let out a weak laugh.

“Nadia is too kind to kick us out of her home after the day we had,”

“I guess you’re right, she even gave us these beautiful outfits,” I take Asra's hand, to which he twirls me. I stumble into his arms as he wraps an arm around my waist.

“And you look amazing in it,” He leans in brushing our noses together.

“Asraaaa,” I feel my cheeks flush. He lets out a chuckle at my embarrassment, but I stay close to him. “I would like to get into some more comfortable clothes however, help me get undressed?” I whisper the last part.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he whispers back with a mischievous smile.

Asra helps me undress from my masquerade outfit and into sleep clothes, stealing a few kisses here and there. The way his hands trail my arms send shivers down my spine, his touch calms my nerves and leaves me aching for more. I set my outfit on a nearby chair after I am dressed, then turning to Asra to help him change as well. I trace my fingers up his shoulders and go to undo the clasps for his outfit but then we are interrupted.

"Knock knock!" It's Portia, lightly tapping on the door. I give Asra an apologetic smile before I go to open it for her. Portia and Julian walk in together.

"See Pasha, they were getting ready for bed! I told you we should've left them be!" Julian remarks, standing awkwardly by the door.

"Well I hope I didn't interrupt anything, but I feel we deserve a little celebration do we not? What with you saving the world and all" Portia gives us a mischievous smile. I'm not sure what she's planning but her demeanor just makes me more interested.

"Asra?" I look to my partner, who is now sitting on the bed, he gives me a half shrug.

"What do you have in mind?" He turns to Portia. Her smile grows wide as she rubs her hands together.

"Well, there's quite a bit of leftovers still, and I think I saw a few unattended bottles of Golden Goose in the kitchen?" Portia elbows Julian in the side, who returns it with his signature toothy grin.

"I could eat more," Asra chimes in.

"I think a drink or two couldn't hurt," I walk up to Portia linking our arms together. "C'mon Julian let's leave Asra to get changed while we raid the kitchen," The three of us exit the room giving Asra some privacy. I feel a little bad, allowing our alone time to be interrupted but I couldn't say no to Portia, she works so hard for the Countess and I think we all deserve to blow off some steam. Portia giggles as we walk to the kitchen, our arms still linked.

"Do you do this often, Portia?" I say, she shakes her head.

"Sometimes I snag a cookie or two, but there's so much leftover food that we can't just let it go to waste!"

"And besides, all the food is for the guests, and we are technically guests," Julian chimes in, walking ahead of us. When we finally make it to the kitchen, Portia peers in first ensuring it's empty. With a nod, Julian and I follow her in. If I thought the tables were full of food in the masquerade rooms, the kitchen's stock dwarfed them. I don't think I have ever seen so much food in my life. Every counter and tabletop has some sort of interesting food. From fruit to meats to vegetables and elaborately decorated pastries, the kitchen had it all. Portia hands me a basket to which I start loading the more delicious-looking food. I add a couple of pastries I think Asra will like and I continue filling the basket until I am satisfied. Julian grabs a large bottle of Golden Goose and hands another to me so he can snag a few extra rolls. Porta has a smaller basket full of delectable foods as well. Satisfied with our bounty we leave the kitchen giggling amongst ourselves. Basket on my arm and bottle in my hand I survey the food we all gathered.

"I don't think we'll be able to finish this all in one night, in four nights maybe, but this is quite a bit," I say, realizing just how heavy my basket now feels.

"Well, better get started now!" Portia says holding up a biscuit to put in my mouth. I chuckle and lean forward to take it, tasting powdered sugar once it makes contact, the moment my teeth sink into it I hear a voice stopping me mid-bite

"Oh my, celebrating are we?"

Portia lets out a peep, letting go of my biscuit and Julian freezes at the sound of a man's voice. I turn towards its source, biscuit still in my mouth. Oh my indeed, Salim and Aisha stand in front of us, eyes trailing from Julian's hands to Portia then to mine. I flush, I JUST met Asra's parents and now they've caught us sneaking food and alcohol in the hallways, so much for first impressions… second? I'm too flustered to think straight. With my free hand, I remove the biscuit, swallowing the bite in my mouth.

"Um….. Yes?" I may not remember having parents but I can't help but feel like I'm in trouble with the way they're looking at me. Salim and Aisha both let out a laugh. The three of us all look at each other confused.

"My love, let them have their fun," Aisha says with a smile, she turns to us with a warm expression. "We're going to bed now, make sure to stay in the Palace," the three of us all nod quickly in unison. With a wave, they turn the corner and head to their room. All three of us let out a breath we didn't know we were holding.

"Well, I felt like a teenager getting caught sneaking a drink again," Julian says, his voice slightly wavering.

"You said it," Portia says, shoulders relaxing. They both turn to me. Julian suddenly stifles a laugh, Portia's smile growing wide.

"What?" I say. They both burst into laughter, Portia then shushing Julian but still unable to hide her amusement. "What, what is it?" I am very confused and slightly embarrassed, I look around to make sure nothing is behind me. Nope, no one here.

"Nothing nothing, just uhhh, nervous laughter, yes," Julian says between laughs, they both snicker and start to make their way back to my room. I follow, my confusion still brewing. We finally make it to the door to which Julian knocks, he must hear Asra say come in cause he opens the door, allowing Portia and me in first. Asra is turned around placing his own outfit on the same chair, dressed in sleep clothes. I walk to the bed and place my items down on the floor. Asra approaches me looking at the haul of food I brought but then his eyes go wide when he sees my face.

"Ah, love you have a bit of," he turns me to face the mirror. There is powdered sugar and jelly on my face. I look at the biscuit Portia handed to me earlier, sure enough, there is jelly inside.

"Portia! Julian!" I swing around to be met with the sight of Portia and Julian laughing. They both fall to the floor continuing to cackle at my misfortune.

"Oh, I am so sorry MC! I didn't even notice," Portia says between breaths. I let out a frustrated grunt. They are not going to let me live this down, especially knowing Aisha and Salim saw this as well, so much for giving heroes respect. Asra turns me to face him, rubbing his thumb on the corner of my mouth, licking the contents off.

"Delicious," he whispers. I roll my eyes and turn once again to the two redheads who have now calmed down.

"So are we eating or what," I say, hands on my hips.

---

The four of us sit on the floor in front of the fireplace, food in the center and one bottle empty. Portia suggested that we play "never have I ever". Asra is laying on the floor, head in my lap occasionally sitting up when he has to drink. Julian is to his right and Portia to the right of him. Faust has taken to cuddling up to the fire, sleeping soundly. Occasionally Julian flinches when she moves. At first, I was a little nervous to play this game, being as I do not have as much life experience or memories as the three of them do, but I have learned a lot about my friends. For example, I learned that Portia has gone streaking, Julian has lost a game of strip poker, and Asra has never killed a plant. I feel he fibbed that one but I let it slide, for now. As the night went on, we started taking obviously cheap shots at each other, such as never have I ever served the countess food, or never have I ever had an eyepatch. Nothing like some friendly animosity, to get your friends drunk with.

"Ilya your turn," Portia says as she pops another pastry into her mouth. Julian thinks for a second, making a show of it by going "hm" loudly. Asra taps him with his foot earning a yelp from the red-haired man.

"Okay okay, never have I ever…. Lived once," Julian's smile is wide as he gives me a knowing look, his eyebrows wiggling. I know he got his memories back from the hanged man so I shouldn't be too surprised that he knows about my situation.

"Oh that one is lame," Portia says with an annoyed tone, after taking a swig she passes the bottle to Asra who sits up, takes a sip, and lays down placing the bottle back in the center, going back to sleep. Portia turns to me with a puzzled look.

"Why haven't you drank MC?" I quickly shoot Julian a look, raising my eyebrows, causing him to flinch under my stare. He gives me a weak shrug.

"I didn't have the time," he whispers arms up in surrender. Portia's gaze snaps from me to him and back to me.

"I'll tell you later," I whisper. As much as I would hate for Portia to be in the dark, I would rather not talk about my death, especially with Asra here. Asra looks up at me from my lap telling me I can skip his turn, something about his "head-spinning too much", with a wink I think of my next topic.

"Never have I eveerrrr," I trail off, still thinking. Julian may have been on my side in his "living once" comment, but this game is free reign, everyman for themselves. "Never have I ever, been on a pirate ship,"

"What! No fair!" Portia squawks out. I let out a laugh and shrug, doing my best to look innocent.

"MC! You wound me!" Julian lets out, however still reaching for the bottle, after taking a swig he hands it to Portia who mutters before taking a sip. I look down at Asra nudging him, I don't forget his story about the little game he played with Faust in his youth. He opens one eye to look at me, smiles, and then closes it again pretending to be asleep. I roll my eyes.

"I'll do you one better MC," Portia says. "Never have I ever kissed Asra!" Julian lets out a laugh as I reach for the bottle taking a long slow sip. I side-eye him, remembering something, the alcohol gets the better of my common sense. Pulling the bottle from my lips I angle it towards Julian.

"Drink up," I say. Oh my god did I just do that? Julian flushes, he opens his mouth to protest but when I remain unmoving, he sheepishly takes the bottle and takes a sip. Portia's jaw drops as she watches her brother swallow the beverage. By now Asra has sat up gawking at Julian. Portia stands.

"I am waaaaay to drunk for this," she states, she grabs Julian by the arm lifting him up, he yelps but follows through, "And I'm cutting you off Ilya, goodnight guys," Portia leaves the room, dragging Julian with her and closes the door behind her. After it closes I swear I can hear Portia yelling, followed by Julian's protests, but it soon disappears with their footsteps. Asra turns to speak.

"How did you-" I put a finger to his lips to shush him.

"A magician never reveals their secrets Asra," I say with a wink, I turn to Faust who is still laying by the fire, but I can almost sense a mischievousness coming from her. I turn back towards Asra who is now yawning, I guess we have been up for a while. I stand to help him to his feet, swaying slightly from all the drinking. Faust slithers over to him who picks her up and the three of us climb into bed. Asra lays on his back and I snuggle into him, my head resting on his chest as I listen to his heartbeat.

"Mmmm, I am not looking forward to the headache tomorrow," I hum out.

"Well I guess we'll just have to sleep all day in the shop until you feel better," Asra says, rubbing his hand along my back. With a nod, I feel sleep slowly begin to overtake me as I am wrapped in the arms of the person with who I feel safe and love more than anything.

#the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana asra #the arcana julian #the arcana portia #the arcana faust #asra alnazar #julian devorak #portia devorak #the arcana fic #the arcana fanfic #crow writes

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ryukoishida · 3 years ago

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Qian Qiu / Thousand Autumns Fic: [Ch 4] In which SQ drinks with YWS and YA barges in.

Title: You’re a Problem I Encounter Fandom: Qian Qiu / Thousand Autumns Characters/Ships: YanShen Rating: NSFW eventually Chapter: 4/? Summary: Yan Wushi was the proud leader of Huan Yue Group, one of the most influential syndicates in the underground world, who wanted nothing more than to see the world burn. His accidental encounter with the pure-hearted school teacher Shen Qiao was a problem he didn’t expect to get entangled in. A/N: So, funny story, I didn’t plan for this AU to be more than just snippets of scenes and vignettes, so now that there’s actually a Plot, updates might be sporadic at best. Sorry folks :’) List of Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4]

---

iv. Fake Love

In the end, Shen Qiao conceded to at least meet with YuWen Yong and his son once before deciding whether or not to completely turn down Yan Wushi’s proposition. That was his begrudged way to make up for the stab wound that was still bleeding merrily on Yan Wushi’s upper arm.

At Shen Qiao’s defeated declaration, the leader of Huan Yue Group looked pleased and seemed unable to hide his grin despite his injury.

With a weary sigh, Shen Qiao reminded him that this was only because he didn’t want Yan Wushi to get any other weirder ideas.

Yan Wushi was completely okay with that.

(When Yan Wushi got back into his vehicle, Bian Yanmei’s brows immediately gathered into a concerned frown at the sight of his superior's injured arm and ruined shirt.

Yan Wushi was known to be a painstakingly meticulous man – everything from his speech, his gestures, the way he fought, the way he dressed – he would not allow anyone to see him in such a disarrayed state. Besides, who would even have the guts and the capability to leave a bloodied mark on the leader of one of the most feared organizations in the syndicate world?

“Yan-dangjia, is… everything all right?” Bian Yanmei helped him clean and bandage his wound. Thankfully it wasn’t a deep one, but it was definitely going to leave a scar.

“Oh, it’s more than all right,” Yan Wushi said with an amused grin, and left it at that.)

Almost an entire month had passed before Shen Qiao and Yan Wushi crossed paths again. They agreed to meet up at a high-end urban lounge in downtown called Indigo Palace, which coincidentally turned out to be one of Yu Ai’s favourite drinking places in the city, and as one of his closest friends, Shen Qiao had long been familiar with the establishment though he rarely partook in alcoholic drinks.

His last visit here had been an unpleasant one, to say the least, and to return to Indigo Palace after that incident instilled a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if the moment he entered this place, he’d be swallowed up by abhorrent memories and be reminded of the once pure and innocent relationship he shared with Yu Ai had now been poisoned by betrayal and tainted with distrust.

Shen Qiao half-wondered if Yan Wushi picked this place on purpose; knowing his twisted personality, he wouldn’t be surprised if the leader of Huan Yue Group had found out about the connection between his kidnapping and Indigo Palace, and had specifically chosen to meet Shen Qiao here precisely because he wanted to see how he’d react.

No matter, he thought to himself with a bitter smile as he pushed the glass door and strolled in, jazzy lounge music immediately surrounding him like silken sheets, providing him a sort of mundane comfort that he found hard to explain.

Upon seeing Xuan Du Group leader’s adopted son, the concierge in charge of taking care of patrons at the entrance and filtering troublemakers and drunkards instantly plastered on a striking smile and lowered himself into a respectful bow in greeting, to which Shen Qiao warily nodded in return.

“Is Shen-shaoye meeting a friend here? Will you require a private room at all?”

“There’s no need, thank you,” Shen Qiao replied and was about to head straight into the seating area when he changed his mind and turned to ask, “do you happen to know if someone of Huan Yue Group is already here?”

“Speaking of the devil…” the concierge’s face twisted into an expression akin to a mixture of aversion and dread at the mention of such person, “Yan Wushi came in about fifteen minutes ago, claiming he’s here to meet someone. What does the leader of a rival group want from us? Is he trying to pick a fight with Qi-dangjia or something?”

“Where is he seated?” Shen Qiao hoped the clueless boy didn’t actually say or do anything to irate Yan Wushi for real, or he was certain the concierge wouldn’t survive even if he were given ten extra lives to spare.

“At the far end of the bar,” the concierge informed him with a sour look, “Gu-jie is keeping an eye on him in case he starts something.”

A good call on Gu Hengbo’s part, Shen Qiao mused with approval, and thanked the concierge before heading in.

Unlike a lot of pubs and bars in the downtown area, Indigo Palace boasted of tasteful décor, delectable drinks, and professional service. Most patrons were here to relax after a long, grueling day at the office nearby and just wanted to relax with a drink and some venting to their friends and colleagues; others through connections with Xuan Du Group might be here in one of the lounge’s VIP private rooms to deal business of the clandestine and illegal kind. Tonight, it looked just like any other evenings of a workday: men and women in loosened ties and wrinkled blouses chattered quietly in their own secluded circles, expensive drinks in hand.

Shen Qiao meandered his way to the far end of the room where the bar was located, the wall of colourful bottles of alcohol and syrup gleaming with a mystical glow under the subdued lighting of the lounge.

“Shen-dage!” the bartender was the one who spotted Shen Qiao first, and she greeted him with a bright grin and a friendly little wave after putting away the last glass she was wiping clean.

“Hengbo,” Shen Qiao smiled warmly at the young woman, who was like a little sister to him since she started training and working under Qi Fengge’s tutelage. The four of them – Shen Qiao, Gu Hengbo, Yu Ai, and Tan Yuanchun – shared a close relationship like siblings due to their ages being relatively close. Though as they grew to have their own group of friends and social obligations, Shen Qiao would never think to abandon or cut ties with the three of them no matter how differently they lived their lives.

Gu Hengbo rushed to the side of the bar closest to Shen Qiao and began to prattle away, “Shen-dage, what have you been up to? It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you! And you know Yu-dage, he wouldn’t tell me anything even if I’m being my most charming self.”

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to come in to see you sooner,” Shen Qiao smiled apologetically, petting the younger woman on the head with the kind of gentle affection that he only allowed when he was with people that he felt comfortable with. “Work has been… well, you know how it can get.”

Shen Qiao wasn’t good at lying, so the best he could do was avoiding the topic all together. From what he could surmise, Gu Hengbo still didn’t know that he’d been fired from his previous job, nor did she seem to be aware of the kidnapping incident.

“Ah-Qiao, you’ve kept me waiting.”

Before Shen Qiao could continue his conversation with Gu Hengbo, they were rudely interrupted by that oh-so-familiar drawl that could only belong to one person.

“Shen-dage, you know that man?” Gu Hengbo was actually about to tell him to stay away from Yan Wushi. She’d never met the infamous leader of Huan Yue Group herself, but she’d heard enough about the man, and given his dubious reputation, it didn’t make her feel any easier to see her beloved sworn brother getting acquainted with such a dangerous and controversial character, even by the standards of Xuan Du’s lawless nature.

“Unfortunately,” Shen Qiao only said drily, “don’t worry about him. He’s here to see me.”

Shen Qiao sighed, already feeling the start of a headache brewing in his temples, but his upbringing dictated him to greet Yan Wushi with as much courtesy as he could muster under the circumstances.

“Yan-dangjia, I see you’ve already made yourself comfortable,” he folded himself onto the bar stool next to Yan Wushi and was careful to keep a safe distance between them.

“I’ve got to say,” Yan Wushi swirled his drink in a tulip glass, the liquid inside a glistening rich amber, “I would never have expecte this place to serve such excellent cognac.”

“You have Hengbo to thank then,” Shen Qiao said, nodding towards the bartender who was looking at them curiously out of the corner of her eyes, “she’s the one who makes all the purchases here, and she does have an eye for good liquor.”

Yan Wushi raised his glass towards Gu Hengbo with an appreciative hum. She returned the gesture with a curt nod, eyes cold and guarded.

“And what will you have?” Yan Wushi wanted to know after taking another sip of his cognac.

“Hengbo, can I have my usual please?”

“Of course,” Gu Hengbo happily made his order with elegant ease, measuring out and pouring different liquids into the silver drink mixer. The resulting solution was a pale foggy citrine fluid poured over ice chips into a copper mug and topped with a sprig of mint leaves and a thinly-sliced wedge of lime.

She slid the beverage across the lacquered bar top, but a hand intercepted the mug before it could reach Shen Qiao.

“Yan-dangjia…”

“Moscow Mule?” Yan Wushi leaned in a little closer to take a whiff, a brow raising up before passing the drink off to Shen Qiao at last. “Virgin?”

“Do you have a problem with my order?”

“Not at all,” Yan Wushi smiled easily behind his glass, “I’m merely interested in what Ah-Qiao’s favourite drink is, that’s all.”

Instead of reacting to Yan Wushi’s comment, Shen Qiao took a much-needed gulp of his drink. The refreshing lime flavor and the spicy-sweetness of the ginger beer instantly cleared up his mind and made him feel better, slightly less annoyed by Yan Wushi’s presence and the brazen way the man kept staring at him while he drank.

Yan Wushi finally spoke after he watched Shen Qiao finished half of his drink.

“Well, how did it go?”

“I imagine you’ve already talked with YuWen Yong, so why are you asking me?” Shen Qiao cradled the mug with both of his hands. He was staring quite hard into the cup as if the answer lay somewhere deep in the bottom of his drink.

“I’d like to hear your side of things, too, Ah-Qiao,” Yan Wushi sounded almost genuine that it made Shen Qiao pause.

“How much did he tell you?” Shen Qiao turned to face the other man, gaze remaining hesitant.

“He sounded impressed, which is a rare occurrence for that man, so that’s saying something. He was also quite upset that you rejected his offer. I heard he’d even proposed to help you re-instate your position at your old academy, or give you a recommendation to an even more distinguished institution.”

“There’s no point in getting a position if it weren’t earned by my own merits,” there was something unshakable in the steady tone of Shen Qiao’s voice that fascinated Yan Wushi.

“There’s no shame in relying on someone else’s help now and then,” Yan Wushi reminded him matter-of-factly.

“That’s where you and I differ, Yan-dangjia,” Shen Qiao said in an equally pragmatic tone.

“I wonder…” the corner of Yan Wushi’s lips curved up in a subtle degree as he leaned closer towards Shen Qiao, the amber liquid in his glass churning with a mesmerizing pattern, “or perhaps you just haven’t hit your lowest point yet.”

As if sensing Yan Wushi’s sudden unwelcome proximity, Shen Qiao quietly shifted his body back with just enough precision and poise that it looked like he was merely changing his position of sitting by crossing his legs the other way naturally.

“I don’t mind YuWen Yong,” Shen Qiao continued as if that little display of push-and-pull – a silent, deadly waltz – didn’t happen, “as a politician, he has done beneficial deeds for the public and he has good intentions, even if the means to his goals were a little… unscrupulous.”

“So, the problem lies not with him but with his son?”

Shen Qiao nodded grimly.

“I did say that brat’s a handful,” Yan Wushi laughed. “I take it that means you met YuWen Yun as well?”

“YuWen Yong insisted that I at least talked with his son first before making my final decision, so I did.”

“And?” Yan Wushi’s eyes brightened with interest.

He couldn’t avoid interacting with the boy since he was always having meetings with YuWen Yong at the politician’s mansion, but the few times they were forced to talk had been… well, let’s just say that if he didn’t have favorable business ties with YuWen Yong, Yan Wushi wouldn’t have tried as hard to prevent himself from throttling the bratty teenager with his own two hands. He wanted to know what Shen Qiao – a teacher who was experienced in communicating with children of different personalities and attitudes – might think of someone like YuWen Yun, who many would label a problematic child upon their first meeting with him.

“I’ll admit, academically speaking, he’s smart for his age. And maybe far too clever for his own good in other ways.”

“Oh?”

After another sip of his drink, Shen Qiao continued, “he played the role of a perfect high school student and the son of a respectable government official in front of me: bright, polite, just the right level of charm and playfulness, but there was something not quite right – I could see it in his eyes.”

“I didn’t know Shen-laoshi is an expert in physiognomy, too,” Yan Wushi commented with amusement.

“It has nothing to do with physical facial traits,” Shen Qiao said, “call it an instinct—”

“Ah-Qiao!”

The familiar voice made Shen Qiao freeze and his fingers tightened around the copper mug with such force that his knuckles were turning white. He bit his lower lip to stop the words that were about to rush out of his mouth; there were things he’d like to say, but he also knew that once some words were laid out bare, he could never take them back.

But Shen Qiao couldn’t – shouldn’t – run away anymore. Sooner or later, he’d have to face Yu Ai and their crumbling friendship, and what it meant to Xuan Du Group as a whole.

“Ah-Qiao, what are you doing with that bastard?” Yu Ai was now standing directly behind Shen Qiao, his eyes glaring daggers at the unwelcome guest. He’d heard from his own informants that Shen Qiao had started to mingle with some high-level member of Huan Yue Group, but never would he imagine the protagonist of the rumor was none other than the syndicate leader himself.

Yan Wushi snickered, absolutely unperturbed by the pointed name-calling.

“You have the face to call me a bastard? I’m not the one who betrayed his own brother behind his boss’s back, am I?”

“You—!” Yu Ai was this close to pulling out his revolver despite being in public with witnesses and civilians all around.

At the exact moment that Tan Yuanchun grasped at Yu Ai’s bicep to stop him, Shen Qiao got off the stool and turned around sharply to face his sworn brothers.

“Yu Ai, that’s enough. There are people watching.”

He’d called him by his full name, Yu Ai noticed with a grimace. He didn’t think it would sting this much.

“Ah-Qiao…” Yu Ai seemed relieved that Shen Qiao was at least talking to him, and after sending another dark glare at Yan Wushi for good measure, he suggested in a softer tone as if any sudden or loud noise would scare Shen Qiao away again, “let’s find somewhere quieter. I’ve been meaning to talk to you since…since you quit your job.”

Shen Qiao raised his brows at the painfully awkward pause but said nothing.

“Ah-Qiao, for Tan-dage’s sake, will you hear Ah-Ai out just this once?” Tan Yuanchun opened his mouth for the first time that night, and Shen Qiao couldn’t say no to the benign face of his elder sworn brother.

“Please excuse us for a moment, Yan-dangjia.”

“Of course,” Yan Wushi didn’t even turn to see them go.

“Hengbo, are there any available spare rooms in the VIP area tonight?” Yu Ai called over to Gu Hengbo, who’d been furtively listening in on their conversation as she pretended to mix drinks for patrons.

“Sure,” Gu Hengbo only tripped over her own feet a little when Yu Ai unexpectedly summoned her. “Follow me.”

The music was entirely shut out by the soundproof walls of the private room, in which Shen Qiao had sat down on one end of the lush cushioned bench and Yu Ai and Tan Yuanchun had perched on the one that was set perpendicular.

Shen Qiao looked over at Yu Ai expectantly.

From this single expression, Yu Ai knew he’d been found out and that there was no use in covering up anymore, but it was still incredibly difficult for him to start, so he began with small talks, which he knew Shen Qiao hated.

“H-how have you been holding up? If you’re having financial troubles, I can—”

Shen Qiao’s usually warm brown eyes hardened into cold sepia behind the icy glare of his lenses.

“If you’re that concerned about my wellbeing, then why did you do what you did in the first place?” Shen Qiao demanded. He never demanded anything of anyone – he asked, prodded, requested – but he didn’t like forcing answers out of others unless he was desperate, and right now, he was desperate – frantic and forlorn for the answer that he somehow knew he wouldn’t get from Yu Ai.

He didn’t wait for Yu Ai to confirm his suspicion, and with a sad smile brimming with thick, heavy disappointment that was almost tangible in the air, Shen Qiao said, “it was you, wasn’t it?”

Yu Ai inhaled sharply but didn’t have the heart to deny it.

“You doped my drink that night under the pretense of wanting to have a confidential chat with me about your crush on some woman working under you, when all you wanted was for me to fall unconscious so you can hand me over to Sang Jingxing like a wrapped gift. And for what? Money? A higher position within He Huan Group? What is it? What did Sang Jingxing and Yuan Xiuxiu offer you that made you decide to betray father’s trust… my trust?”

At the end of his rant, Shen Qiao was exhausted, the ice in his eyes melted into nothing but a muddy puddle of confusion, the strength leaving him as suddenly as the heat of frustration had struck just a moment earlier.

“I didn’t mean for the whole thing to go so far,” Yu Ai said weakly, his gaze downcast as he continued in a listless whisper, “Sang Jingxing… that sonovabitch went too far; he wasn’t supposed to hurt you. The initial plan was to just keep you imprisoned, give you a scare, make you reconsider your position…”

“My position…?” Shen Qiao’s brows gathered into a bewildered frown.

“Xuan Du Group needs a leader; we need you. Yet you keep dodging your responsibilities by detaching yourself from Xuan Du, pretending to live amongst civilians like you’re better than the rest of us.”

“I don’t —” Shen Qiao was startled by the raw animosity in Yu Ai’s voice, the bitter scorn etched so agonizingly obvious and real on his face. Had Yu Ai always thought of him this way? Shen Qiao was torn in pondering between this hidden side of Yu Ai and the equally true state of Yu Ai breaking his trust, even if his intention had not been as malevolent as Shen Qiao had initially thought. He just didn’t understand why Yu Ai had to go through such farce to get them here.

“It doesn’t matter now, Ah-Qiao,” Yu Ai said with a resigned exhale, and he glanced up to see the younger man staring at him with wide, lost eyes. He thought maybe he’d finally found the metaphoric chink in Shen Qiao’s always immaculate and perfect armor, and Yu Ai was not one to waste opportunities. “What matters is that you come back to Xuan Du with us. Qi-dangjia, the elders, and all the younger members will be so happy to welcome you back with open arms as their young master.”

Shen Qiao shook his head slowly but firmly; though disbelief was evident on his pale face, it didn’t erase the lucidity that still dominated his mind.

“Xuan Du has father, and father has you and Tan-dage. Hengbo, too. She’s becoming very good at managing Indigo Palace, so father should feel confident to gradually let her handle Xuan Du’s other affairs.”

“But none of us is the true heir of Xuan Du,” Yu Ai said, a sliver of impatience was slipping into his voice. “Qi-dangjia had always wanted you to be his successor eventually, despite the free reigns he gives you, but you wouldn’t quit your civilian job and we’re running out of time, so I figure…”

Yu Ai swallowed hard, and he wished he had something to drink to rid of the lump in his throat, but he pushed on, “I figure we’ve got to do something to force you to quit and rejoin Xuan Du before Qi-dangjia’s condition gets any worse…”

“Father’s condition…? What do you mean?” Shen Qiao cut in with widened eyes. “The last time I went back home…”

The last time Shen Qiao had went back for a visit, Qi Fengge had been taking more medications than Shen Qiao had last remembered, and he’d asked his adoptive father about it, to which the leader of Xuan Du only replied with a tired but genuine smile, “ah, it’s nothing a few more pills and a strict diet won’t fix. You know how it is – it’s the fun part of getting old.”

“I didn’t realize…” Shen Qiao murmured, eyes darkening and fingers gathered into fists partly from remorse of not noticing the gravity of Qi Fengge’s worsening condition sooner and partly from fury that nobody had thought to let him know.

“Qi-dangjia instructed us to not tell you,” Tan Yuanchun said, “he didn’t want to worry you.”

“Do you even know what’s happening within the inner circle of Xuan Du Group right now?” Yu Ai asked with a tense mutter, but the volume of his voice only increased with intensity from there. “The elders are shitting themselves because the group’s losing money, and they’re saying Qi-dangjia is the one to blame for running the organization like it was still the good, old golden days. Now that some of them are aware of his deteriorating condition, they’re going to find any damn excuse to kick Qi-dangjia out of the leader’s seat. Are you going to let those old dogs do that to your father? After all Qi-dangjia has done for you, do you have the heart to leave Xuan Du the way it is now?”

With his chest still heaving from the outburst, Yu Ai could hear the crevices in Shen Qiao’s armor crackling and multiplying, the gashes widening and seeping blood.

“I—” Shen Qiao rose halfway from his seat.

And then the door to the private room swung open.

“Do you enjoy teasing me by keeping me waiting, Ah-Qiao?”

#qian qiu #thousand autumns #shan he jian xin #yanshen #bowie's crappy writing

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angelic-kisses13 · 4 years ago

Text

Claiming- Part I

Authors Note: Here is Part I I hope you enjoy!

Warning: Violence, gore, swearing, Vampire Charles Brandon, mentions the word Rape (Not described)

“Master, the treaty has been fractured. Two bound of blood plotted against the all-knowing, thus leading to a betrayal of the Children of the Night. Inevitable despair of two warring Kingdoms will befall both heads of houses. “

“How do we halt this coming demise, Mother Seeress?”

“The Treaty dictates an eye for an eye.”

Another war was close to brewing and Charles was close to just sending his men out and taking care of the neanderthals across the river. The memory of his best Generals head rolling across his throne room was forever ingrained. The trail of blood forever staining the stone. He remembered the rage and remorse that colored his person as he noticed the missing fangs. He had been dishonored by the beheading but the knowledge that someone had dared desecrate his culture and lineage would forever strike fear in his people. He would never forget the scent of the vile human carcass that dared trespass on his land. Since he was king, however, he couldn’t do as he wished, without causing massive disruption to his kingdom and the other neighboring ones.

Charles forced his tightly wound body back against the carriage wall, he was on his way to the disgrace of a kingdom now, the King claimed to have a peace offering for him. A sacrifice for the vampires so that they would hopefully look past their transgressions.

Charles was surprised at himself for the amount of rage he held for the whole notion, he was never one for sacrifices but he had to uphold the ancient traditions. It would make matters worse and as much as a war sounded fun and a great time killer, he wasn’t willing to put his people through that. He had seen enough bloodshed to last millennia.

He was dragged out of his thoughts by the carriage stopping and his footmen opening the door for him. He sighed but pulled his robes around his body carefully, arranging them neatly. He climbed down the carriage steps, dusk had fallen and he relaxed under the twilight.

A scuffle to his left drew his attention and he watched as a young woman was dragged across the courtyard, insults flying from her lips faster than he could process. A smirk fell across his lips as she turned and spat at the guard who had the gall to slap her ass in a warning. She was a plump thing, where there should have been harsh angles on her body, were instead rounded curves that screamed for him to run his fingers over. He had always had a soft spot for women who had more meat on their bones. The fact is that he had more to hold onto, more to drink from and more space to paint his mark across, making their skin his canvas.

“I REFUSE TO BE USED THIS WAY! I AM NOT SOME COMMON CRIMINAL YOU CAN DO WITH AS YOU WISH!” Her words made his eyebrows raise in surprise, now this was going to be interesting. The guards all laughed in delight,

“You’re the only criminal that no-one has claimed. The King, for whatever reason, paid your bail, therefore, you are owned by the King and he can do with you as he wishes.” Just as he was about to follow after the young woman, a stable boy came running up, he bowed before Charles, his little body shaking at the sight of him.

“Y-your Majesty, the K-King awaits yo-your arrival.” Charles hummed as he put the young woman out of mind and followed the boy into the palace. The boy left him standing in front of the throne room doors, where two guards stood on watch. He watched out of the corner of his eye, as one of the guards turned his head and glared at him with disdain.

A smirk fell on his features as he swiftly pinned the guard to the wall and bared his fangs, a glint entering his eyes as he sealed the man’s fate. He drank for a few moments before pulling away and dropping the man to the ground. He smoothed his cloaks out before entering the Throne Room. He was instantly assaulted by the familiar stench, his eyes narrowing on the three occupants of the room. He sniffed a couple of times, trying to ascertain the culprit. His senses zeroed in on the Prince. Satisfied he was the vile carcass, he then spots the trophies around the young man’s neck.

“His Majesty” stood at the top of the stairs in front of his throne overlooking his kingdom from the stain glass windows, the prince lounging behind him, drink in one hand, the fangs of his General lay nestled against his greasy portly neck. His scrawny half-Witt of an advisor stood off to the King’s left. They were whispering, but Charles could hear every word.

“King Charles’ sacrifice refuses to come out, the stupid girl is going to put us all in jeopardy with her tantrums.”

The King sighed as he reached out and patted the Advisors shoulder,

“Try and convince her one last time, King Charles will be here any second and I don’t want him to have more reasons to go to war.” The advisor bowed before turning around and halting in his tracks, Charles watched in quiet delight as the Advisors knees buckled beneath him.

Charles grinned, the blood on his fangs glowing in the candle-light as he licked at the drop of blood on the tip of his left fang. He preened as the blood from the advisor’s face drained, an audible swallow was heard before the man kneeled.

“Your Majesty. It is a humble delight to see you.” King Indulf stiffened before turning to face Charles, a strained smile painting his features.

“Advisor.” That was the only word needed before the poor man was up on his feet and hurrying, in a dignified manner, back towards the Throne Room’s doors. It was silent as they appraised the other, looking for any tell-tale signs of weaknesses. One could only hope for a quick signal to end the other.

“Charles, how kind of you to travel and accept our gift of dinner and women. I’m sure the one we have picked out for you will be enough to appease.” His tone was bordering cordial and impertinent. Charles’s jaw tightened, just as he was about to voice his displeasure about the ordeal, the doors were opened and in walked a delicate flower, brown hair done up in the traditional braids and pinned into an intricate bun on the top of her head, her skin was painted flawlessly and her white dress left nothing to the imagination, her skin showing through the sheer fabric.

She bowed at their feet, before coming and kneeling on the second step, her hands resting on her thighs, back straight, head tilted to the right, baring her neck showcasing her pulse and vein beautifully. She was stunning, but she was meek and unfit to be the sacrifice.

“She is a fine specimen but she is unfit for the role, far too weak, Indulf.” The King spluttered, his face an ugly puce color as he refrained from shouting.

“We were just supposed to give you a woman to sate your declaration of war, Charles. As you can see, we have lived up to our deal.” Charles snorted, unable to contain his mirth for a moment longer.

“You stupid excuse of a King. The terms of the sacrifice were agreed upon when the contract was drawn up. Every detail drafted down for future generations. It outlines everything specifically, clearly, you have read it to be able to coach her on how to sit and dress. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t notice? This “sacrifice” is dying. Do you believe that this painted whore would hold the same status as my best General?” His voice became a roar by the end of his rant, his eyes a burning crimson.

“King Charles, she was the only eligible candidate we had, surely you can overlook the one rule.”

“Surely, you have noticed your ill-mannered son displaying the fangs of my fallen comrade. The contract is void, prepare for war Indulf, you have insulted me and my people one too many times this evening.” He hissed and turned on his heel, preparing to depart when the throne room doors were thrown open and a woman came in kicking and screaming. Her eyes flashing as her mouth opened in a snarl. She was tossed at King Indulf’s feet.

Charles had just enough time to move out of the way before she was up and throwing herself towards the Prince. Her screeches and wails filling the hall,

“I WILL NOT BOW DOWN TO YOU! I AM NOT YOUR CONSORT! I AM WORTH MORE THAN THAT!” The Prince quickly grabbed the little spitfires’ wrists before throwing her down and backhanding her face. She sprawled across the stone floor, a hand reaching up and brushing over her busted lip, coming away red with blood.

“THAT IS ENOUGH YOU INSOLENT BITCH!” Charles’s eyes flashed when the scent of her blood hit his senses. She was delectable, fiery, and willing to fight to the end.

Her chest heaved as she watched them, her tongue darting out to swipe the blood up. She grinned at the three men, her teeth painted in her blood. Charles had to suppress the growl that threatened to escape his mouth. He wanted to grab her by her meaty hips and pin her against the floor, his tongue diving into her mouth to lick every last drop of her blood from her teeth and tongue. Charles took a step forward only to be hit by the vile stench of the Prince. She was covered head to toe and it brought the memory of his dead General to mind.

The enraged King frothed at the mouth, “I paid your bail, you ungrateful heathen, that means I own you, I can do with you what I want when I want. You are to be my son’s consort, a high honor if I do say so. One someone like you shouldn’t get, but your parents were good people and I promised I would look after you.” A manic cackle fell from the woman’s lush lips as she rolled from her side and onto her knees.

“My parents were traitors that you honored to make yourself look good, they don’t deserve to have me as their daughter. I will never be your sons, I would rather be his sacrifice,” she angrily threw her arm out, finger pointed towards Charles, “than live in this palace and be raped by your precious prince another day.”

“You think you are worthy enough to be a King’s sacrifice?” Indulf’s body was vibrating with barely contained rage.

“I’m worthy enough for your son to be sullied over.” A laugh escaped Charles as he kneeled down in front of the woman.

“My little lamb,” He smoothed his thumb over her bruised cheek before pulling his hand back, her warmth seared his skin, she was perfect. A raging inferno waiting to be tamed. He looked up at the King, a challenging glint to his eye.

“Sacrifice accepted.” The occupants of the throne room gasped in shock as Charles bent down and swiftly picked up the dirtied and bloodied rag of a woman, before disappearing, a cool breeze rustling through the room in his abrupt departure.

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#henry cavill #reader insert #Vampire Henry Cavill

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