#i have never before played as a sword & shield warrior | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whitedarkmoonflower · 2 years ago

Note

hello

Can I request a sihtric x reader fic where she doesn’t know how to braid, so sihtric teaches her. and when she’s good enough he lets her braid his hair for battle saying it would bring him luck(?)

this is the main idea but you can change & do whatever you like with it! Thank you!

Braiding hair

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: I think I have never written a fic so quickly as this one. It just touched a string within me. Thank you so much for this absolutely lovely request! I hope you'll enjoy it!

Warnings: fluff, tons of fluff and such a tiny bit of angst, that it doesn't really count

Word Count: 4,5K

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

The first light of dawn painted the horizon in delicate hues of pink and orange, casting a soft reflection on the tranquil river below. The water flowed very calm in this part of the river, the gentle lapping of the current seamlessly melding with the melodies of the first birds, praising the awakening of a new day.

As Sihtric walked, he felt a sense of peace enveloping him. The riverside always had this calming effect, a place where he could gather his thoughts before the day's chaos ensued. Especially now, with Coocham buzzing with warriors gearing up for battle.

Soon, he reached a secluded bend in the river, framed by tall reeds from the side of the river, while nearby a sprawling willow provided shade, shielding this corner from both the sun's gaze and curious onlookers. The air here was cooler, tinged with the refreshing scent of wet soil and the distant fragrance of blooming wildflowers.

Rounding the bend, Sihtric halted, an unexpected sight meeting his eyes – amidst the curtain of reeds and morning's embrace, you were dressing after what appeared to be a refreshing river bath. Droplets of water still clung to your naked arms, glistening in the faint sunlight. You reached for your leather jerkin, slipping it over your undergarment and breeches, then tugged on your boots and fastened your sword. Your damp hair, darker than its usual shade, clung to your neck, small streamlets running down your back.

Even from where he stood, Sihtric could see the focus in your stance, reminding him instantly of how you looked in the heat of training. He smirked remembering the unexpected twist his first sparring session with you had taken.

It had been a mystery to him why Uhtred had taken you in as a warrior. A woman – a small and delicate creature, looking like you would break into two from wielding that long and heavy blade of yours. The way you danced around the hay dolls in the sparring grounds, as if playing some intricate game, made Sihtric just wrinkle his nose and rolle his eyes, even as Finan approvingly chuckled with his tongue, hinting at a different perspective.

Until that one day.

—-----------------------------------------------

It was a late afternoon and the training grounds resonated with the rhythmic clang of metal clashing and the shuffling of feet on dry ground. Sihtric, along with Finan and Osfert, stood slightly off, their gazes fixed once again on you as you flowed through a series of maneuvers with your blade.

"She's got a knack for this," Finan observed, admiration evident in his voice. "See her footwork? Swift and sharp."

Osferth nodded, adding, "She's trained well. That much is clear."

"Since when have you turned into an expert in sword skill?” Sihtric scoffed, “Besides training and actual battle are worlds apart. Dancing around here is one thing, but facing seasoned warriors? Doubt she'd last a minute."

Finan shot him a sidelong glance. "Don't be so quick to dismiss, Sihtric. She might surprise you."

"She might be good," Sihtric conceded, his tone laced with sarcasm, "for training sessions with stray dolls. They don’t fight back. Let's be real; when swords clash in earnest, it's a different game."

Osferth countered, "You're not giving her enough credit. It's evident she has the heart of a warrior."

Sihtric's lips curled into a smirk, "Heart won't stand a chance against seasoned Dane fighters."

Finan, growing frustrated, retorted, "Like you, you mean? There's something else that bothers you about her, and it's not her skills. Spit it out."

“In the shield wall, every man counts. I want my flanks secured by real warriors, not this dancing doll.” Sihtric sneered with disdain.

Sihtric turned to look at you just to realise that you had approached the trio, having caught the tail end of their conversation. Blade resting on your shoulder, you met Sihtric's gaze squarely. "Shall we see? Care for a spar, Sihtric?"

The challenge hung in the air, and the attention of everybody on the grounds was suddenly focused on both of you.

"Perhaps we should use sticks, not steel. Wouldn't want to mar that pretty face of yours," Sihtric jested.

Your retort was swift, "Scared I might leave a mark?" With a confident stride, you took your stance, eyes locked onto Sihtric, awaiting his move.

Amid the expectant gazes of his friends and other warriors now coming closer, Sihtric drew his blade and slowly stepped into the training ground, every muscle radiating the confidence of years of experience and countless battles.

Without hesitation, Sihtric made the first move, lunging forward with a powerful strike, expecting to overwhelm you and end the bout swiftly. To his astonishment, he was met with empty air as you sidestepped evading him gracefully. His initial smugness was replaced with a furrowed brow.

The dance continued, with Sihtric trying to leverage his strength, but you remained elusive. Like a leaf caught in a whirl of wind, you ducked, swirled, and danced around him, evading each of his strikes. Each of your movements, precise and fluid, confounded him, taunting him with feints, luring him in with the promise of an opening in your defences, only to change direction at the last moment, leaving him off-balance. Each time, the crowd's gasps and murmurs grew louder, Sihtric's frustration evidently increased.

The defining moment came when you feigned a low strike, prompting Sihtric to lower his defence. In a split second, you changed your trajectory, using his momentum against him. He stumbled, caught off guard, and with a deft move, you closed in, swirling around, striking his blade hand and burying your shoulder in his stomach. Sihtric could only gasp watching his blade flying out of his grasp, himself landing roughly on the dusty ground.

A wave of cheers washed over the grounds. Standing tall, you extended a hand to a visibly dazed Sihtric, sitting in the dirt.

Finan's smirk was hard to miss as he chuckled, "Told you so. You just wouldn't listen."

The next morning as you arrived at the training grounds, Sihtric was already there, engrossed in sharpening his sword. Every stroke showed his focus, so much so that he didn't seem to notice you approaching. You hesitated for a moment before turning away to begin your own regimen, keenly aware of Sihtric's discreet glances in your direction as you practiced.

Finan approached, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Waiting for someone, Sihtric?"

Sihtric shot him an annoyed look. "Just making sure my blade is sharp."

Osferth, joining them, chuckled. "He's been 'making sure' that for the past hour, you can use that blade for shaving!"

Sihtric sighed, "Alright, alright. I was thinking of...you know...asking her to spar. But..."

"But you're too chicken to ask?" Finan teased.

"It's not that. It's just... What if she feels I'm challenging her? Or worse, trying to show off?" Sihtric shifted uneasily.

"Why don't you just be direct?" Osferth suggested. "Ask her if she'd like to train with you. Simple."

Before Sihtric could reply, you approached, having noticed the trio's discussion. "Something interesting you're talking about?"

Finan, never one to miss an opportunity, smirked, "Sihtric here was just about to ask you something."

Sihtric shot Finan a glare but took a deep breath, "I was...uh...wondering if you'd be interested in...you know, sparring with me? No challenges, just...training."

You looked at him, a playful smile forming on your lips, "Took you long enough to ask. Let's see what you've got."

And so it began. Soon your sparring sessions became a regularity, a steady part of each day.

Despite Sihtric's prowess and experience, he found himself continuously challenged by your fluidity and swiftness. Every parry, every counter-attack showcased your undeniable skill and he dug deep into his experience and strength to avoid repeating his previous mistake.

And while the warrior in him thrived in the challenge, the man in him was captivated by you in a way he had not expected.

The effortless elegance of your movements, the way your hair swayed synchronously with your strikes, glinting in the sunlight, were hypnotic. Your lean body, a perfect fusion of strength and grace, resembled an alerted wild creature, ever vigilant and prepared.

The way your cheeks turned rosy from exertion, the never fading spark in your eyes, full of determination, yet always bright with mischief and joy, your contagious laughter – all this and a thousand other small subtle things captured Sihtric's heart and endeared you to him.

Your wit, as sharp as your blade, was an allure in its own right. The fire with which you defended your views and opinions only deepened Sihtric's respect for you. And the way you never missed a chance to playfully tease those around you placed you at the same level as Finan. In between rounds, even out of breath and exhausted, you would always find a strength to throw a joke, your laughter infectious, lighting up the surroundings. Sihtric often found himself anticipating these moments more than the actual sparring.

Sihtric clearly recalled that one day, after a particularly intense round with both of you breathless and drenched in sweat, his eyes had scanned your form, an unfamiliar sensation washing over him. Unbeknownst to him, he had found himself admiring you – undeniably a skilled and formidable warrior, but also a woman, such a beautiful woman, radiating passion, intelligence, and resilience. In that instant, a warmth spread through his chest, an undeniable pull that made his heartbeat quicken.

—--------------------------------------------------

Lost in his memories, Sihtric failed to see a stray branch on the ground. It snapped sharply under Sihtric’s foot, its sound carrying in the stillness of dawn. Startled, your eyes met his visibly sheepish expression.

There was a lingering pause, stretching a bit too long. With a mischievous smirk, you finally broke it. "Do the riverside reeds make for good hiding spots, Sihtric? Or are you merely lost?"

Taken aback, Sihtric stumbled over his words. "I... I didn't mean to intrude. I was just—"

"Sightseeing?" you teased, arching an eyebrow playfully.

He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. "Honestly, I didn't expect anyone to be here. My apologies."

You chuckled, clearly enjoying the rare opportunity to see the usually composed Dane flustered. "Next time, maybe announce your presence with a song or dance. At least then I can join in the fun."

He laughed, the tension easing a bit. "Noted. I'll work on my riverside entrance."

You flashed him a grin. "See to it. And perhaps, I'll give you a show worth watching."

The mortified look, appearing on Sihtric’s face, made you laugh.

“Since you’re here, maybe you can help?” you asked, showing him a small blade in your hand.

Sihtric’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Help you? How?”

"These," you tug at your locks, "get in the way and that can be an unnecessary distraction during a battle. It might look less disastrous if you’d help cut them."

Sihtric looked surprised, “It’s just hair. Why not simply braid them?"

Your eyes darted away, "Never learned that skill. Gisela, Hild, and others always do it for me. But they won't be accompanying us. I'm left with few options."

Sihtric chuckled. "So, the master of swords is defeated by braiding?"

You shrugged with your shoulders. "We all have our weaknesses."

Sihtric's gaze lingered on you, his heart's tempo subtly quickening. "Well, lucky for you, I've been braiding my hair for years. If you'd trust me, I could assist."

Amusement glinted in your eyes. "Sihtric, the fierce warrior, a hairdresser? That's an unexpected turn."

Feigning affront, he winked, "Hey, a man can have many talents!"

Nodding, you handed him a comb. "Then, let's give it a whirl."

"Come," Sihtric gestured, spreading his cloak by a willow's expansive root.

How attentive, you mused, not with surprise, but merely acknowledging what you already knew. That’s how he was. Beneath the rough and reserved exterior of the stern warrior you had long discovered the tender inner core of an exceptionally warmhearted man – always loyal, ever attentive and a deeply caring friend.

With an amused smile on your face you settled down onto the cloak, with Sihtric positioning himself behind you, his legs framing you supportively. The touch of his fingers, as he began combing and later skillfully weaving your hair, sent a frisson down your spine. And you let yourself drift away in memories as you listened to him humming a soft tune.

—-------------------------------------------------

You loved the sparring sessions with Sihtric, which became routine soon after your first encounter. Every time you squared off against him on the training ground, a thrill surged through you. It wasn't just the sparring, but the challenge he presented. He was a formidable opponent, hardened in countless battles. Every stance, every move, every counter spoke of his experience.

Your initial easy victory against him was a sweet memory, but the more you trained with him, the more you realised that it had been quite a stroke of luck. Sihtric had underestimated you, causing him to be less vigilant and overly hasty. Now, with every session, it became clearer that keeping up with him demanded all of your skill and focus.

Sihtric's unique combat rhythm was unpredictable. His strength was palpable, not just in his powerful strikes but also in his unwavering stance, making it challenging to catch him off guard as you had during your initial spar. Every session was a blend of instruction, challenge, and exhilaration, all of which you embraced wholeheartedly.

One particular day remained etched in your memory. After an intense bout, with both of you drenched in sweat and panting for breath, you leaned against a tree to recover. Your gaze naturally drifted to Sihtric. He was bent over, hands on his knees, his chest heaving, catching his breath, every muscle defined beneath his sweat-soaked tunic. While you had always respected his martial prowess, that day, an unfamiliar warmth spread within you, accompanied by a flutter you couldn't identify.

You watched as he straightened up, brushing off the dirt and sweat. A stray strand of hair fell onto his forehead. An unexpected urge overcame you—to reach out and tuck it away, brushing your fingers against his skin. You were taken aback by this newfound sentiment. What was that?

Your heart raced, not only from the exhaustion of the spar, but from this unexpected surge of emotion. Memories flooded your mind — flashbacks of your shared laughs, the lingering, hidden glances, the melodic timbre of his soft voice as he shared stories by the fireplace.

You shook your head, trying to dispel these thoughts. It was just the exhaustion playing tricks on your mind. And yet, you couldn’t resist stealing another glance, captivated by the way his lips curved into a smile as his eyes locked onto yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

As you both wrapped up, the typical teasing that was so common between you both seemed charged with a new energy. Was it just you, or did he feel it too? Something deep within you had shifted giving way to emotions unknown and unintelligible for you, something you weren't quite ready to admit, even to yourself.

—--------------------------------------------------

Now, as you sat nestled between his legs, Sihtric almost regretted his impulsive offer to braid your hair. Had he overstepped? Yet, the allure of the moment was undeniable and too compelling to resist.

His fingers gently caressed your hair, the silky locks gliding seamlessly through his grasp. Every touch sent an electrifying jolt through his entire body, the strange feeling both excited and unnerved him. This closeness was a strong contrast to your sparring sessions—no blades, no shields, just the two of you, closer than a hand's reach.

His heart pounded loudly in his chest. Every sweep of his fingers, every touch of your hair sent a thrill coursing through him, stirring emotions and making his fingers tremble slightly.

The world around slowly faded. Every twist, every intertwining strand tightened an unexplainable knot in his stomach, every occasional brush of his hands against your neck made him yearn for more. The warmth of your back against his torso, the subtle scent that lingered, the softness of your hair—it was overwhelming, intoxicating.

He leaned in slightly, his breath uneven, lips mere inches from your head. Every second stretched, deepening his yearning.

The braid was almost complete, but Sihtric took his time, savouring the moment, cherishing each touch. He was in love, deeply so, and while he was not yet ready to speak it out loudly, the intimacy of this moment seemingly spoke volumes.

“You are ready, fair warrior,” he finally whispered, his voice bringing you back from your reverie.

Your fingers gently touched your head, where your ever dishevelled locks had been transformed into three neat strands, overflowing into one braid trailing down your back. Springing up, you dashed to the water to glimpse your reflection.

"Guess I won't need this blade for a haircut after all," you mused clearly impressed, sliding the knife back into its sheath.

Sihtric's eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and mischief. "I did say I had a knack for it."

You chuckled, "Thanks, Sihtric. I’m in your debt."

He shrugged, his casual demeanour back in place. "Just promise to show me a new sword move or something. That would square us, right?"

You grinned, "I've got a better idea. Teach me to braid, and someday, I might offer the same service to you."

"My lady, braiding isn't as straightforward as swordplay. It's an art form. If you wish to have the privilege of braiding my locks, you've got a lot to learn,” Sihtric smirked in response.

And so, the remaining week before departure a new dimension was added to your training sessions – Sihtric became your braiding instructor. You profoundly wondered how he had managed to persuade almost all the small girls in the whole village to sit patiently as his fingers, interlaced with yours, guided you through the intricate process, showing you the weaves and twists, demonstrating how to put pearls and beans in the hair and fasten the braids.

You were amazed by the delicacy and deftness of his rugged hands, contrasting sharply with your own efforts that often left stray hairs or twisted sections that unravelled the entire braid. And one day, the mystery surrounding the patience of the small villagers was unravelled when you saw Sihtric remove one of his silver rings, handing it to one of the girls. A smile played on your lips at the sight as you realised he was actually paying in silver to have you taught to braid.

—--------------------------------------------------------------

You sat beside a crackling fireplace, the camp sprawling amidst the trees with tents everywhere around you. An unmistakable tension permeated the air, as it always did on the eve of battle. Some warriors sought solace in ale, others meticulously sharpened their already perfect blades, while some gathered around the fires, sharing stories and seeking comfort in the company, driven sleepless by anticipation. There was no one else at your fire, sitting alone on a fallen log, you hugged your knees, immersed in thoughts, when a warm hand settled on your shoulder.

“Ever fought in a battle before?” Sihtric asked, taking a seat beside you, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “Don’t take me wrong. I know how good you are with the blade. But fighting one to one is different.”

“I know, you’re right and yes, I have. And I will not pretend that it doesn’t scare me. Only a fool would pretend to not fear the chaos of the battle,” you looked up to meet Sihtric’s gaze. “But don’t mistake my fear for weakness. Don’t think I will waver just because I’m a woman. I proved you wrong once and I’ll do it again, if needed.”

“You’ve nothing to prove to me. I just… I…” Sihtric struggled to find the right words. He wanted to ask you to stay by his side, so that he could protect you, shield you from harm, but he couldn’t find the right words to express that without insulting you. He understood that especially now after you had voiced your suspicion that he still didn’t trust you enough, there was no way of saying what he had intended to. You were a warrior, and he had learned his lesson not to doubt it, he respected that. And yet you were a woman. A woman he loved and cherished so deeply that the mere thought of harm befalling you was agonising and driving him to the brink of madness.

You looked expectantly at Sihtric, waiting for him to finish his saying.

"Could you... braid my hair for the battle tomorrow?" he finally blurted out, his cheeks warm, silently grateful that the fire's shadows hid his flush.

The surprise in your voice was evident. "You'd entrust me with that?"

Sihtric didn’t answer, his eyes full of strange anxiety didn’t leave yours and you swallowed back the joke that was already almost rolling over your lips.

His eyes, swirling with a mix of vulnerability and intensity, never left yours. He hesitated, before answering, "Among the Danes, there's an old belief. Having your hair braided by someone you truly trust… brings good luck in battle."

The meaning of the words slowly sank into your mind, making a genuine smile appear on your lips. "Trust me, this will be my finest braid," you replied, gesturing for him to sit down in front of you.

Sihtric slid down from the branch and settled between your legs. You reached out to touch his hair – dark, thick and curly and so pleasantly soft against your fingers, the sensation of the touch so unexpectedly stirring.

You began separating the strands, your fingers working with utmost care and concentration, as you started to pull and twist, enjoying the electrifying feeling of Sihtric’s hair brushing against your fingers. Each strand you took, twisted and wove into the pattern of your choice reminded you of the time you both spent together the last few days. His strong arms wielding the blade like a toy, his face covered with sweat, his concentrated gaze and furrowed eyebrows, as he looked for a weak point in your defences, his genuine laugh at your jokes, his fingers intertwined with yours, teaching you to braid.

Sihtric shuffled between your legs and you felt a warm flush rising to your cheeks as he leaned back nestling more comfortably between your thighs.

Your eyes, usually so sharp and observant, softened as they concentrated on the task and you unconsciously bit your lower lip. First small braids on the sides, then some more a bit higher and then the middle one – twist after twist the braids started to take shape, as you meticulously weaved each strand, ensuring not a single one was overlooked or twisted wrongly.

You tied off the ends and marvelled at your own work, not wanting to let go, to allow this magical moment to end, your fingers remained lingering, tangled in the free curls on the back, and you brushed them gently against the nape of his neck. The touch was fleeting, almost too tender to be noticed, as your fingers slid over his skin for the briefest moment in an unconscious attempt to communicate feelings you were not yet ready to express in words.

Drawing back, pride filled your gaze, your hands resting on Sihtric’s shoulders. "There," you whispered. “You’re ready for the battle.”

You felt Sihtric shudder under your touch, his arms lifting to clasp your hands, pulling them gently to his face and placing a soft kiss on your right palm.

"Thank you," his voice was husky with emotion, though he didn't turn around to face you. You felt like there was something in the air, something electrical, something unspeakable and indescribable, and you wondered whether it was the looming battle or the accumulation of the suppressed feelings and emotions or maybe both.

Sihtric slowly touched his braids, a hint of smile playing on his lips. He had finally found the right words.

“Promise me something,” he murmured, finally turning to face you. “Promise to stay by my side tomorrow. I need to know my left is guarded by such a skilled and formidable warrior as you.”

You looked in his mismatched eyes, feeling a warmth enveloping you.

“I promise,” you whispered, lowering yourself down next to Sihtric and almost melting at the feeling of Sihtric’s strong arm enveloping your shoulders, pulling you closer and wrapping his warm fur coat around you both. You leaned against him, the warmth of the fur, combined with Sihtric's steady heartbeat, making the world outside seem to blur. There were no words needed as he held you in his unwavering embrace, the silence between you both and the profound comfort of simply being speaking volumes on their own.

As the night wore on and the camp around you finally slowly drifted into sleep, you both remained wrapped in the coat, holding onto each other and the softness of the moment. His arm, strong and secure, held you close, while your head rested on his shoulder. It was a solace, a reprieve from the world outside, and a reminder of what is worth fighting for, the embrace becoming a silent promise—to stand by each other, come what may.

—----------------------------------------

The battle was over. Sihtric rose to his feet pulling his axe from the dead body, his eyes searching his surroundings for another enemy to release his anger over, but none remained. The ground, once firm and unyielding, was now a morass of muddied, trampled grass, blood, and the footprints of countless boots and hooves.

Abandoned weapons littered the field, gleaming dully. Swords, spears, and shields lay strewn around, some half-buried in the earth, others still clutched by lifeless hands. Bodies of the fallen were strewn across the landscape, and vultures were already circling overhead. Small groups of men searched the field for survivors.

Sihtric looked around and a pang of dread constricted his heart. He still remembered you beside him when the enemy's shield wall shattered. He remembered the fierce look in your eyes, the way you leaped at some random man swinging his axe at you. You had looked like a goddess of war, stabbing, chopping, parring, dancing around your enemies with an ease only you were capable of. But then Sihtric had lost you out of his sight. He had turned to face a big, red faced Dane swinging his impressive war axe at him and when he turned back, his hands smeared with blood pouring out of the Dane’s neck, you were gone.

The air was thick with a mixture of smoke, blood and filth, as Sihtric roamed the battlefield, shouting your name, his face pale and eyes darkening in despair with each moment there was no answer, his breathing growing laboured and hope waning. In the very moment when despair threatened to consume him entirely, he finally spotted you, sitting on a fallen tree at the rand of the battlefield. You sat there with your face, hands and your whole armour smeared with blood, breathing hard, your sword driven into the ground and serving as a support for your arms.

Rushing to your side, Sihtric knelt before you, his hands framing your face. "Are you hurt? Is that your blood?" he asked, his eyes wide, anxiety plainly written on his face.

“I’m fine. Just a few scratches. Nothing that won’t heal by the next new moon.”

“Don't ever do that again.” Sihtric murmured, his voice just a hush, pressing his forehead against yours. “For a short moment I thought I’d lost you. Believe me, I’ve never been so scared in my whole life.”

Your fingers slowly touched Sihtric’s face, tracing the lines and scars on his face, your eyes locked. Sihtric’s thumbs gently caressed your cheeks as he slowly, deliberately began to lean in. The space between you both diminished, charged with an electrifying tension, as you felt the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

His fingers brushed your neck, and as you closed your eyes, you felt the tender, hesitant pressure of his lips meeting yours.

“I love you, my fierce warrior,” Sihtric whispered against your lips, “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“And I love you too,” you managed to breathe out, your voice barely audible, melting against the gentle touch of his lips against yours.

It wasn't a fiery, passionate kiss. It was a gentle, lingering one, full of unspoken words and emotions, a culmination of all the shared glances, soft touches and unspoken feelings that had built up between you. It was a deliberate melding, like two flames coming together to form one and every nuance of the kiss spoke volumes—the delicate way Sihtric’s fingers cradled your jaw, the soft brush of his thumb across your cheek, your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling him closer.

“Hey, your braids are still intact. I did well, didn’t I” you laughed as you both pulled back, gasping for air.

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric fanfic #sihtric fic #the last kingdom #tlk #arnas fedaravicius #tlk fanfic #the last kingdom fanfic #arnas fedaravičius

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adrift-in-thyme · 1 year ago

Text

Febuwhump Day 10: Human Shield

Ao3

CW for blood and injury

————————————-

It is raining. A torrent of water cascades down from the sky, soaking Warriors and plastering his tunic to his skin. The fierce winds whip his hair into his eyes, washes the ground out from beneath his feet. Fighting in such conditions is…less than enjoyable to be certain.

But such is the way of heroism, he supposes. If you come across a heavily populated monster camp, you can’t very well just turn around and walk away. Even if it is raining bokos and keese.

“I’m gonna assume,” he remarks, as he drives his sword into a nearby moblin and almost slips in the mud, “that this isn’t your doing Sprite.”

He can’t see Time’s expression — the old man is busy slashing at the handful of beasts currently trying to cage him in — but he can tell that he’s grinning anyway.

“Not this time, no.” Time whirls in a spin attack, sending monsters and mud and water flying in all directions. “Believe me, if the Song of Storms had the power to end this downpour, then I wouldn’t hesitate to play it.”

Warriors chuckles. “And here I was thinking you liked the rain.”

“I do when I don’t have to fight an entire camp of monsters in it.”

Warriors laughs again, bringing his sword in a harsh, upward stroke. Black blood flies, splattering into the makeshift river sprouting into being beneath his feet. Quick as a flash, it is washed away.

The feeling of victory is short-lived. Several more monsters jog up to take their fallen companion’s place. Warriors steps back, shifting his feet to get a better grip on the ground. They come at him and he whirls in his own imitation of Time’s move mere seconds before.

“Well, if this is what it takes to get you back for all those times you drenched me for no reason besides your own gremlin joy…then I’ll deal.”

Time faces him from across the space that separates them. Raindrops drip from his hair and run in rivulets down his face. They wash away the blood dribbling sluggishly from a cut across his forehead. They can do little, however, for that which stains his trousers right above his boot. Nor can they rinse off the mud that sullies his usually spotless armor.

But he smiles as though none of that matters. And for a moment Warriors sees a mischievous little forest child, grinning up at him as he complains about his latest prank.

“Truly?” He cocks his head, brings his claymore down with hardly any effort, and sends ten monsters soaring. “You would endure this just to get back at me? And for something that I allegedly did years ago? I never took you for a petty person, captain.”

Warriors rolls his eyes. He is traveling even deeper into the camp now, cutting down the monsters that try to get in his way. There is a cluster of them in the middle of the encampment, gathered around a skeletal treasure chest. He’s willing to bet that killing them will make the largest impact.

“I’m not being petty, Sprite. I’m defending my honor.”

“Ah. My bad.”

Time’s voice has a lilting tone, mischievous and slightly mocking. It has been too long since Warriors heard it. Too long since he has seen the child hidden deep within the man trying to be the responsible one in their little group. The leader.

“Well, is your honor suitably — ”

He cuts off abruptly and Warriors cranes his neck in an attempt to ascertain the disturbance. It’s difficult to see over the many heads of his opponents, however, and even more so through the torrent of murky water.

In the end, he doesn’t have to see a thing to realize something is coming. Something large and metallic and decidedly different from the beasts they have battled thus far.

A fast, panicked tune sounds in Warriors’ ears, alarm bells jingling like the notes on a piano.

The monsters surrounding him skitter out of the way, shrieking in fear. In the space that they have left shines a blurry, crimson light. It emanates from a single eye of purest blue, situated in the cylinder-shaped head of a skulltula-like monstrosity.

And it is pointed straight at him.

The air itself begins to heat, turning cool rain lukewarm. Warriors’ eyes go wide.

There isn’t time to run, there isn’t room to run, but he needs to try anyway, he needs to get away…

Arms working without conscious effort, he lifts his shield and prays that it will be enough.

“Captain!”

Firm hands connect with his shoulder. Warriors stumbles sideways, slips, and splashes down into the mud. Heart in his throat, thoughts a jumbled mess of adrenaline and panic signals, he scrambles to all fours.

Only to collapse again mere seconds later when the world erupts.

Crimson light blinds him, molten heat smothers him. The air is thick with it, screaming with the agony of it.

Or maybe someone else is screaming. He can’t tell. All he knows is that he can’t breathe, can’t hear, can’t see anything save for the cries of destruction.

Again and again, the monstrosity fires. Again and again, heat batters at all sides, yet somehow doesn’t touch him.

And then, it’s over.

Warriors can only lie there for a moment, ears ringing, breath coming in ragged gasps. Slowly, painstakingly, the world crawls back into focus.

Carnage lies everywhere. Every monster has disappeared, either escaped into the forest or lying in the dirt. The gore that they have left behind peppers the area. Trees and bits of rock are strewn about, shedding leaves, branches, and pebbles into the rivers of mud. The towers that the beasts had stood upon are no longer the stalwart things they once were. Some are only half standing, others little more than shattered pieces of wood.

And in the midst of it all crouches the smoldering form of the mechanical skulltula that had borne down upon them so quickly. Beside it, lies another of the same build and same size. The lights on that one have just begun to flicker out.

Dazedly, Warriors stares at them from within a strange veil of blue. Then, slowly his gaze drifts to the hero that rises before them.

Time stands straight and tall amongst a river of mud and gore. In one hand he clutches his gilded sword in a white-knuckled grip; in the other his shield. Cracks snake along the pearly silver surface.

Water runs off of what is left of his armor, soaking into his tunic and trousers where the plates have been blown away. Blood oozes from a cluster of deep cuts speckling his upper back. More of the same type mar his left leg and hip.

His shoulders rise and fall with every haggard, gasping breath.

“Sprite?” Warriors croaks and Time turns to him.

He smiles, even as blood trickles from his nostrils and mouth and the gash on his cheek. Even as he wavers.

“Alright, captain?” He croaks, right before his legs give way beneath him.

Instantly, Warriors is on his feet. The haze of shimmering cerulean fades as he stumbles up, leaving behind remnants of an oddly familiar magic.

But he doesn’t have time to ponder that mystery.

He slides to his knees in the mud and pulls Time into his arms. The hero slumps against him. Quickly, Warriors looks over him, assessing the wounds that he can see.

The gashes he had seen before are claw marks, he realizes now, as though a giant beast had tried to pin him to the ground. And the burns searing his arm and side look disturbingly similar to Wild’s scars.

Warriors drags in a steadying breath. Time needs a potion at the very least. Preferably a fairy.

They have neither.

“Sprite.” His voice is oddly detached. To his ears, it sounds as though it is traveling from very far away. “What was that?”

Time’s eyelid flutters, showing a slit of blue. Raindrops roll down his cheeks like tears.

“Nayru’s love,” he croaks, and a smile quirks his lips. “Takes an a-awful lot of damage.”

Warriors’ eyes widen slightly as it hits him.

A spell. That blue haze that had shielded him from the onslaught of fire was a spell. One that Time had cast on him and not himself.

“Someone had to kill them,” comes Time’s quiet voice, raspy with pain. “And I didn’t have enough magic to cover the both of us.”

Warriors looks back down at him and there is no remorse in his gaze. Only calm acceptance.

The captain wants nothing to do with it.

“Well, I’m not losing you,” he grits out. “You deserve to go out in a warm bed, in a warm house, when you’re ancient and insufferable. Not like this. Not here.”

Not because you sacrificed yourself for me.

Time’s hand finds his and squeezes. His fingers are frigid, wet with water and blood. But his touch is firm despite the weakness caging him in. Firm and reassuring.

“You s-sure you can handle me when I’m ancient and insufferable?” He murmurs and Warriors chokes out a chuckle.

“You can bet on it, Sprite.”

He drags himself up, slipping in the cursed sludge that the ground has become. But he manages to gain a steady enough footing. And when he drapes Time’s arm over his shoulders, he is able to take the older man’s weight without losing his balance.

“I’m going to get you back to camp,” he assures him, as Time lets out a low groan, eye slipping closed once more. “My medical supplies are there and I’ve got a few potions. Hyrule can heal you if we need him to, as well.”

Time nods. Warriors tightens his grip. And slowly, arduously, they begin their journey.

#and here’s today’s lol #yes I’m picking on time yet again #there’ll be many more days of that I assure you #such is the price to pay for being my blorbo #plus today’s my birthday so I’m legally obligated to torture my fave XD #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump day 10 #linked universe #linkeduniverse fic #whump #angst #lu warriors #lu time #trin writes #blood tw #injury tw

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wickedadaar · 7 days ago

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A Slow Recovery - RRAU

Featuring: Semar and Kalais from @sleepingtodream Alaine and Tamrian from @randomness-in-motion Jerran from @teamtakagi Lin from @warden-tabriis Dan from @evans-endeavors Quin from @seizethemage-main

Word count: 1,184

Set after the dragon attack on Minrathous as well as after my piece A Warden's Guilt here: https://www.tumblr.com/wickedadaar/783014999491772416/a-wardens-guilt?source=share

As well as after @teamtakagi's piece What Are Friends For? here: https://www.tumblr.com/teamtakagi/783121241588563968?source=share

Jin had finally returned to her quarters about five days after the dragon attack. Her nightmares had finally subsided enough that she could sleep on her own. As much as she hated to leave Elysia’s bed, her Wardens needed her. She had to be brave and strong for them. During her time away, she had asked the Caretaker to install a bell in the common room so rousing everyone for morning training would be easier. She prepared her usual morning coffee and sipped it as she rang the bell, summoning her charges. To her surprise, there were two new faces that joined them in the common room. She studied the dwarf and the new human that stood before her in their heavy armor. “You won’t be needing that. We do cardio in the morning then training and sparring. We haven’t escalated to full armor training yet, but we will soon,” she paused for a moment, gathering herself, “In light of recent events.” They both nodded in agreement before departing to change into their training gear.

She looked at the rest of them with a certain sadness in her eyes, “Starting in two days, we will be escalating to full armor for our training sessions. I’ve been trying to hold off, but with two blighted dragons in play, now is not the time to play it safe.” The junior Wardens all studied her intently, trying to discern why she seemed different. Something about her was off, but she would never tell them, not even Kalais, not yet at least. They nodded in confirmation after a moment. Once the two new Wardens rejoined them, Jin lead them to the training field for their morning training.

Once cardio was done and she had assigned everyone else to their training, Jin put the two newest warriors through their paces just as she had done Dan. They each introduced themselves. The dwarf was Semar with dubious connections to Fereldan and the human was Alaine, who preferred Laine, from Tevinter. Her first victim was Laine. She provided him the same wooden sword she gave Dan when they first sparred and readied her wooden polearm. Like Dan, he tried to challenge the fact that she did not provide him with a shield, but, unlike Dan, he was not quick enough to avoid the blows she launched at him as he tried to retrieve the sword after she knocked it out of his hands. Her polearm found purchase in his back as well as his left knee, swiping his legs out from underneath him. She could tell he was not quite ready to spar her, so she assigned him individual training just as she did the others. Next up was Semar. He did have the height advantage in that his hit box was much smaller than the other Wardens, but, unfortunately for him, Jin had sparred with many dwarves in her day. Again, she gave him the sparring sword, but he did not challenge her. Instead, he gripped it with both hands, bracing for impact. He was able to avoid several blows but ultimately was tricked by a juking attack to his flank to be left on his back in the dirt. Jin helped him up and assigned him individual training as well.

For the first time since joining the Lighthouse Wardens, Jin held a post-training meeting in the common room. “Alright, everyone. Shit is getting real out there. Starting in two days, you will no longer be training alone. Instead, I will be assigning each of you a sparring partner on a rotating schedule. First, you will be paired up with someone of your same class, but that will be alternated daily. In two day’s time, you will begin to spar with those of other classes. Battle expertise against someone with the same skill set as you is of limited use when facing blood mages and blighted gods. I expect each of you to spend the next two training sessions studying your potential opponents. Starting tomorrow, you will be training in shifts. I want you to not only be able to study your opponent in the moment but preempt their attacks and abilities beforehand with knowledge of their fighting class. Are we clear?” she paused as she looked at her charges. They all nodded in agreement. “Wonderful. Dismissed,” she concluded before turning back toward her quarters to change into her casual outfit.

“Sarge?” Kalais caught her before she departed, but after the others had left. “What’s up, Kalais?” Jin asked, a note of concern clear in her tone. “I think there’s something going on with the dwarf. He was pretty cagey when he first got here,” Kalais explained, causing Jin to arch her eyebrows at him. “You were here when he arrived?” “Yeah, he got here just before we found you putting on your armor after you got news of the dragon attack. He wanted a room without windows?” Jin was taken aback by this. A room with no windows, a strange benefactor in Fereldan. Jin was slowly piecing together who might have sent him, but she did not reveal her suspicions to her friend, afraid it might cause problems for him if she did.

“Thanks for letting me know, Kalais. I appreciate you looking out for us,” she said, gently clapping him on the shoulder. He could tell something was off with her. Her eyes hid a secret she would not tell him while also conveying that he should not pry. “Of course, Sarge. You guys are my family. I look out for those I care about,” he said conclusively, clapping her on the shoulder as well. “You’re a good friend, Kalais, probably my closest besides Elysia,” she said, her tone wavering just a little. It was just enough to let Kalais know that she was not okay. “Jin?” “Yeah?” “You want to go for a walk? Clear your mind a little?” Kalais gently suggested, earning a genuine smile from Jin. “I appreciate it, but I’m going to go see Elysia. Thank you, though. It means a lot,” she said, offering him a hug, a very rare gesture from his commander. Kalais gladly accepted the offer, hugging her tightly and slightly lifting her off of the ground. She had grown to adore the Qunari and his penchant for overzealous hugs. It warmed her heart that he was so genuinely kind and caring. She tapped his side, letting him know that he was squeezing too tightly once more. At this he released his friend as he set her down.

“Kalais, I need a favor,” Jin said hesitantly. “Of course! Whatever you need,” he readily agreed. “This dragon business has been hard on all of us. If you ever need to talk, let me know, but also, try to keep an eye on your fellow Wardens. They won’t come to me for help, but they might accept it from you, okay?” Jin was clearly worried about the mental state of her charges, but she knew the power differential would likely prevent them from seeking her out. He nodded in agreement, “Of course.”

#dragon age #dragon age veilguard #rrau #rooks roost au #grey warden rook #oc: jin connor #jin connor #rrau warden fam

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majorproblems77 · 3 months ago

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i saw this video on tiktok today while I was doom scrolling of this cat who liked getting (gently) tossed like a football onto a bed and it was really sweet and funny because it’d run up to its owner and get tossed and then sprint back. i have a HC that Warriors has two cats and i think he’d do whatever silly thing his cats ask of him because he loves them so much. i also hc that he knits and makes them little sweaters!! ive written a few fics with his cats in them but it hasn’t been in a while and ngl i miss those entirely fictional cats that i completely made up

ive been playing more skyward sword and im very close to finishing the game in this run through and im trying to get the hylian shield except the experience of getting it keeps stressing me out because i havent played in so long and im adjusting to the controls so instead ive been running around collecting things. it NEVER occurred to me that you could sneak up on the birds??? i just learned that was a thing you can do- it never even crossed my mind as a possibility alskdkkd

my favorite thing to do messing around is just fly back and forth between the lumpy pumpkin and skyloft because its just entertaining. i wish we could see like sunsets in that game if we sat around for long enough because its all just soooooo beautiful and i think thatd be cool

ive been feeling really overwhelmed today too, i hope you’re able to feel better 💙 get some water and maybe take a break if you can :)

- crazylittlejester

@crazylittlejester

As someone with two cats i can confirm they do dumb stuff all the time. My two play fetch with hairbands and one of them likes to drink water out of a glass and does a little dance when he does. Wars can hold a little cup of water to one of his two while doing his work like its perfectly normal to him

I like skyward sword, getting that shield took me several days worth of attempts but you just gotta keep going at it i think. I like sneaking up on birds and then watching them just chill before they fly away.

Flying around skyloft is wonderful, its great i should do that

please tell me more about Wars cats i love cats they are wonderful

#jes beloved #i want to know about these cats i miss them too #what dumb stuff do they like doing #corner answers with major

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p-artsypants · 3 months ago

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The Pale Rider (13) Meeting a New Friend

Valka: “My son murdered Viggo and Ryker out of jealousy.”

Everyone in the comments: “No he f***ing didn’t, you whack ass Bitch”

I love you all, my little detectives hahaha

Ao3

—

Early morning, before the sun even rose, Astrid heard a knock at her door.

“Hmmm?” She groaned, blinking to wakefulness.

“It’s me,” said the Rider. “Well…obviously…who else would it be?”

She smiled.

“I uh…I wondered if you wanted to go hunting with me this morning? You can say no, but you said you would have preferred to be a hunter over a florist…”

He remembered that?

Astrid quickly got up and went to the door, opening it with a large grin. ��Give me five minutes!”

She dressed warmly, in her one pair of pants and tunic instead of her dress. Then she braided her hair and emerged, eyes wild. “What are we hunting? Boars? Bears?”

“Deer or rabbits?” He asked, incredulously. “You know, food?”

She deflated slightly.

“But if we see any boars, be my guest.”

“Yes!”

“You’ve gone hunting before then?” He asked, leading her to the foyer.

“Never! I went fishing all the time with my dad, but never hunting!”

He halted. “You’ve never hunted before…but you saw yourself doing it as a career?”

“I saw myself handling weapons as a career,” she clarified. “I could do guard work, but Berk is so boring…can’t leave the island, so not a warrior. Hunter it was!”

“You amaze me,” he said flatly.

“Rude.”

“Perhaps we’ll take a detour first, actually.” He turned about face as he approached the front door, and started heading to a side hall.

“What? Where?”

“I think you’ll like it!” He called back.

Astrid hurried to catch up with him, only to see him disappearing down the spiral stairs to the undercroft. She kept up right behind him as he walked with purpose down the dusty hall and threw open the door.

The library had been awe inspiring; the bath, breathtaking. Every room in the castle had continued to overwhelm her senses with sheer beauty.

But this room, this room made her cry.

“The armory!” He gestured with a wide sweep of the arm.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” she breathed.

“I should have thought about it sooner.”

The ceiling was vaulted, and two rows of pillars went down the room. Every wall was lined with swords, axes, shields, maces, and hammers. Bolas and nets hung from the ceiling. Tables and stands displayed the finer pieces. Suits of armor stood at attention around the pillars. Not a single inch of the room was missing polished steel or crafted leather.

“It’s so beautiful…”

“Are you okay?” He asked because of the breathiness in her voice.

“I’m going to need a minute…” she dazedly wandered down the aisles, cataloguing the weapons and trying to decide what she would play with first.

“I thought we’d use bows to hunt, but if you want to try a spear or something else…”

Astrid cast her gaze around the room, spotting the bows and going to them. She took time to examine several, feeling the weight of them.

The back of the room had several targets against the wall, just for storage. She found a bow that felt good in her hand, then tested an arrow, letting it fly without warning the Rider.

He jolted a little as the arrow zipped through the air and sunk dead center in the target.

“This’ll do!” She cheerfully proclaimed. She grabbed a quiver of arrows as well, a set with blue feathers.

The Rider brandished his own bow from within his cloak. Gnarled Blackwood, twisted and thorny. Then he grabbed a quiver of red arrows.

“Is that comfortable to use?” She narrowed her eyes at the bow.

“It works.”

“Why don’t you use any of these other ones?”

He sighed, and set down the gnarled bow on a rack. He picked up a plain wooden one, nothing intricate or exciting about it, and put an arrow in it to shoot. As soon as he pulled the line back, the arrow ignited with fire and in turn set the bow on fire.

He released the arrow to strike and stick into the stone wall before dropping the bow and stomping it out.

“But Blackwood—“

“Has magical qualities,” he finished. “I don’t know what it is, but it works with the curse. It’s why my old leg was Blackwood. It doesn’t burn with my fire.”

“Interesting…” she examined the gnarled bow again, afraid to touch it, but curious all the same. “Your sword was on fire too.”

“Yep.”

“So…all weapons do that for you?”

“Hmmhmm.” He tilted his head slightly, his hand raising to rest on his chin. “I remember…before the curse, my friend and I made a sword together that ignited on fire. It coated the blade with Monstrous Nightmare gel—“

“What’s that?”

“Oh, uh…a Monstrous Nightmare is a type of dragon that could ignite itself on fire, and its skin produced a flammable gel.”

“Oh, I see. And Viggo helped you with this?”

He shook his head. “No, not Viggo. Viggo was smart, but he mostly just made plans. He didn’t use weapons very often. This was my…other friend…” he tapped his chin again. “What was his name? Gods…”

“At the risk of blacking out…do you remember anything?”

The Rider rested a hand on his hip and dipped his head. “Tall. He was tall, but I was very short. He called me Short Stack. He was a few years older, and worked in the forge.” He tapped his foot. “That’s all I got. Awful, isn’t it? Well, he’s not here, so he must have died way back when.”

“The rest of the village that wasn’t cursed like you or your parents…what happened to them?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. Just that most of the village settled down and rebuilt what was here of the previous buildings. I assume they all just…hated me. Maybe they knew what had happened or were scared of what I had become.” He gasped. “I just remembered!”

Astrid braced to catch him if he blacked out.

“After the curse, my friend, this other friend whose name escapes me, came up to the castle to look for me. He saw what happened!”

“And then…?”

He sighed. “After he saw, that’s all a blur. I hope he just ran away…but I can’t be certain.”

“Would you have hurt him? I mean, if you were freshly transformed, you might have been in an altered headspace and—“

“I don’t think so.” He shook his head slowly. “I just…have a feeling that I didn’t.”

She rested a hand on his arm. “Then I’m glad. Let’s put a pin in this conversation for now. I know it’s probably painful.”

He nodded slightly, and went back to retrieve his bow. “There’s one more thing you need before we go.”

“Yeah?”

“A mount.”

“…I’m not riding with you in Toothless?”

“You’re very welcome to, but I thought you might like your own.” He started out of the room.

Astrid followed, curiously, considering her options. “…are we going to buy a horse? We can’t go into town.”

“No, not buying anything. I have just the girl for you…though I have no idea what she’s going to look like now.”

“I’m lost.”

“Sorry…uh, did my mother tell you we brought dragons with us from Berk?”

“Yes…but they’ve been dead for hundreds of years. We’ve only heard of the dragons up North.”

“Died is…one way of saying it.” At this point, they arrived at the foyer and began to head outside. “You could also think of it like the curse put them to sleep.”

“Why just the dragons and not the people?”

“Probably because I trained all of them. I formed bonds with them. The curse affected me the hardest, and in turn, did what it could to hurt what I loved most.”

They arrived outside, where the sun had just begun to break over the horizon. The air was cool as an early winter fog clung to the ground.

The Rider whistled, and Toothless arrived with his normal bravado, swooping down from up above. He nudged Astrid in a warm greeting, before the Rider mounted up and pulled Astrid up behind him.

“So this mount you have in mind is a sleeping dragon?”

“Yep.” He patted Toothless, and they were up in the sky.

“And you can wake it up?”

“Yep.”

“Any dragon?”

“Yep.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“They deserve their rest.”

Astrid decided to save the rest of her questions until after she saw what he had in store. Perhaps her questions would be answered anyway.

Only more questions came as they arrived at the Boneyard. Strange white structures, looking like broken sticks, jutted out at intervals throughout the field. The multitude of headstones, all lined up in a grid, peered out of the mist. The dirt was still fresh on Phlegma Hofferson’s grave.

Astrid squeezed the Rider around the waist. “Why are we here?”

“This is where they’re sleeping,” he stated, as if it were obvious. Then he raised his hand and shouted, “Stormfly, come!”

The ground rumbled and cracked and shifted. One set of sharpened, off-white bones wriggled, pushing the dirt away. The fan of spikes raised, revealing a boney crown, and then a skull. It broke free of the soil, and a huge skeleton of a creature crawled out of the ground, scrabbling with claws on the damp dirt.

Finally, it arrived in front of them, gently shaking the dirt that still clung in the crevices.

“I was afraid of that,” the Rider sighed. “If she’s too scary, we can figure something else out.”

But Astrid just slid off of the saddle and approached the draconic skeleton. “Hi there girl…” she cooed, outstretching her hand. “You said her name was Stormfly?”

“Yeah, the second dragon I trained. The Deadly Nadder. She used to have pretty blue and teal scales with a yellow pattern on her.”

Stormfly further bowed her head and allowed Astrid to touch her. A soft pet, then she brushed some of the dirt away from the cracks and nooks in the skull.

“Oh, um…” The Rider started rummaging around inside his cloak.

“It’s fine. A little dirt never hurt me.” She smiled.

Stormfly nudged her hand with a little squawk.

“I like her,” Astrid hummed. “She’s sweet. But she can’t fly, right?” She pointed at the wings that were just long fingers of bone, no webbing like Toothless.

“Well, maybe. Let’s give it a try.” He held his hand out again, and pointed up, and in a circle.

Stormfly immediately leapt into the air and flew around the field, doing a lap. Then she came back and landed exactly where she had been before. “Good girl!”

She squawked and fluttered her wings.

“I think we have a saddle for her back in the stables, but it might not fit anymore.”

“That’s alright,” Astrid used her ribcage like a ladder and climbed up to sit on Stormfly’s back, right in front of her wings. “We can look into it later. For now, we hunt!”

The Rider just chuckled at her enthusiasm.

—

They spent the morning and a good chunk of the afternoon out in the woods. They’d bagged a few rabbits, and one small deer. Astrid probably could have kept going if the Rider hadn’t insisted on returning for lunch.

But once the castle was fully in sight, Astrid felt the adrenaline start to wear off. Her thighs ached from her awkward position and she really was hungry, even if she hadn’t thought so initially.

Astrid and Stormfly followed as the Rider circled the castle, but landed in the gardens, farther away from the stables or entrances.

“What—?”

But then she heard voices, and became alert. She raised her bow.

“None of that,” he chuckled, sliding off of Toothless. “Come on, I have another surprise for you.”

She scoffed. “Another? How much more do you intend to do for me?”

He shrugged, his back turned. “This wasn’t entirely my idea…” He beckoned her forward.

They rounded a wall of hedges, the voices becoming louder and clearer. Her friends! They were all relaxing in the garden, lounging about on the cement benches. But they looked exhausted and were covered in dirt. Several shovels were strewn about and the dirt was disturbed in the beds.

“Guys?” She asked, more confused than anything. “Are we learning how to garden?”

“I’m not making a habit of this!” Snotlout hissed, as he was sprawled out on the ground.

“Here Astrid,” Fishlegs approached, holding a leather book. “You can have this back now.”

“My mother’s flower journal! Fishlegs! You had this the whole time?! I thought it got mixed up in the books Dagur took! I couldn’t find it anywhere!”

“That would be my fault,” the Rider confessed. “It was in one of the first cases you brought here. I…stole it.”

“But why? I don’t understand…”

Heather hooked an arm around hers and dragged her closer to the disturbed flower beds. “We needed it to identify the dormant plants in your mother’s garden. These are her peonies, right?”

A group of dead stalks and leaves poked out of the ground, and Astrid gasped.

In the wake of Dagur’s announcement of taking her house, Astrid had poured all her attention into her mother and getting her most sentimental items to safety. She hadn’t done the winter maintenance in the garden, hadn’t cut back the dead foliage, which she now realized was a blessing.

“The peonies!” She damn near shrieked. Then she looked over the rest of the beds, taking in the dormant seed pods. To anyone else, the garden looked like a bunch of dirt and dead sticks. But Astrid knew these plants well. “Coneflowers! Sedum! Columbine!” Then she realized it wasn’t just the little plants they’d taken. They’d gotten as much as possible. “The lilac bush!?”

“You're welcome!” Snotlout sassed.

Then, in the very center of the garden, climbing on an obelisk was some brown-green vines with thorns.

“Is this…mom’s roses?”

“The orange ones on the house? Sure is! It was kind of big, so we had to trim it back, but your mom’s journal said it was okay.” Fishlegs explained.

“I-I-I…” Astrid stuttered, whirling around to take in more of their work.

“In one of our letters, I told the Rider it was a shame that you were losing the garden with the house,” Heather explained. “So he suggested we dig up what we could and bring them here.”

“It was kinda hard to coordinate just through letters, so I had to rely on Heather and Fishlegs for the fine details,” The Rider added, twiddling his fingers. “Was that okay? I wasn’t sure if the plants would handle being replanted like this…”

As he rambled, Astrid felt a swelling, blooming affection in her chest. Though the plants were dormant and brown right now, there was so much life in this little plot. She was swept back into memories of weeding as a girl, complaining of the dirt and sweat and the beating sun while her mother diligently worked. Her father was there too, digging the big holes and cutting the heavier limbs. Even though he had an exhausting job, he’d always spend a few hours in the garden with Phlegma, doing whatever she asked.

The apricot roses were a gift from him, just a year before he passed. He’d spent a pretty penny on the little bush from the traders and Phlegma had been thrilled. They both nurtured it, took the utmost care to get it to flourish. And even now, it was the envy of the town.

Yes, the garden was full of life. Her parent’s lives. These plants were a legacy, here because of their hard work.

And she didn’t have to abandon them.

“Astrid?” The Rider asked when she had been quiet for too long.

She vaguely noticed that her face was wet before she flung her arms around Heather in a tight embrace.

“Oh!” Heather exclaimed, but didn’t have much time to respond otherwise before Astrid was hugging Fishlegs, and then Snotlout, and then the twins.

Then she came to the Rider, and he awkwardly held his arms out to the side.

She grabbed his cloak and yanked, bringing him down to her level, then she planted a hot kiss on his chin, the only part of his face that was visible under his mask.

Then she gave him a crushing hug, hiding her blushing and crying face in his chest. “Thank you.”

He returned the hug, resting his head on her hair. “You’re very welcome.”

Once Astrid had mostly collected herself, the Rider called to the group. “In thanks for your hard work, please come to the castle for a proper lunch and the chance to clean up.”

“Booze!” Yelled the twins.

He chuckled and told Astrid, “I will take them back. Toothless will show Stormfly to the stables. You take all the time here that you need.”

She wiped her face futilely, as the tears kept rolling.

Now she had to do whatever she could to break his curse. He’d done too much for her.

—-

Late that night, despite the ache in her muscles and the sleep that made her eyes heavy, Astrid donned a robe and stepped out of her room.

She was going to attempt to talk to Viggo again. Maybe he was ignoring her, and could be persuaded? Either way, he had to know how to break the curse.

Quietly, she tiptoed through the various drawing rooms until she was poised at the doorway of the foyer.

The candles in the room were dim, keeping mostly everything in shadow, all but two green flames moving at the second floor. The Rider was awake, and coming downstairs.

Curious to see where he would go, Astrid hid just around the doorframe and waited.

He came down the stairs, moving at a languid pace. He was withdrawn, shoulders hunched and head bowed.

She couldn’t imagine what had made him so sad, they had a lovely day with their friends.

Whatever it was, it seemed he chose to talk it over with Viggo, as he took a spot in front of the painting.

“You need to be more careful,” Viggo snapped, in lieu of greeting. “The girl must have seen us talking.”

“What? When?”

“I don’t know. Likely the night she came to live here. But just the other night she approached me and tried to talk to me.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. I have nothing to say to a Hofferson.”

Astrid found it hard to swallow, and drew up her shoulders, as if that would help her hide more.

“Finn Hofferson is long dead. Astrid isn’t anything like him.”

“You and I both know how powerful blood can be. That treachery is inside her.”

“What treachery? I know we didn’t really like Finn, but he was a good man.”

“You haven’t figured it out, in all these years?” Viggo scoffed. “I suppose my magic is to blame. Wiping almost all of your memory…well, it was Finn that convinced you to commit the act. He used you, my brother. And now he’s gone in Valhalla, and you’re trapped here, suffering for his misdeeds.”

“Finn…used me…?” The Rider bowed his head, hands on his waist. “That…doesn’t sound right.”

“You doubt me? It’s the truth. You just can’t remember.”

“Then…why can’t I—-?” Suddenly, the Rider doubled over with a shout and fell to his knees. Then he collapsed on the ground.

Astrid wanted to run to him and check, but she didn’t want Viggo to know she was listening.

So she pushed away from the doorframe and went back to her room, an overwhelming sense of guilt swirling in her gut.

#httyd #how to train your dragon #fanfiction #hiccstrid #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #the pale rider

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rannadylin · 5 months ago

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Veilguard: Ranna's Rook intros!

Waaaay back in November, I might have posted a time or two about my first Rook? Since then I've been a bit distracted from Tumblr by, uh, playing three more of them. XD I just started the fifth playthrough so I'd better pop in and show some Rooks off before I get too far into this one and forget how to blog again!

Possibly mild spoilers to follow along with pretty pictures and very brief summaries beneath the cut...

Caeda Mercar, Shadow Dragon rogue who romanced Lucanis (alas, yes, she saved Treviso at the expense of her home Minrathous! worth it. She did also flirt a bit with Davrin early on when Lucanis was still being shy about it, but basically I started the game thinking I'd probably romance Emmrich and then Lucanis spited right out of that Ossuary cell and through a gaggle of Venatori in five seconds flat and Caeda went all heart eyes and set her cap for him irrevocably.) Started out more of an archer rogue (usually one of my favorite DA playstyles) but halfway through she started leaning more toward daggers. We'll assume that was her favorite Crow's influence. (Or that Ranna was figuring out how to play XD)

After Caeda I jumped straight back into CC to make...

Veryl Ingellvar, Mourn Watch mage who romanced Emmrich. Whereas Caeda had the first-playthrough honor of just picking whatever dialogue options I felt like at the time, so she had a pretty broadly mixed personality, this one specialized in what, in ages past, we would've called Blue Hawke personality. :-D Very golden-retriever, Miss Positivity, etc. (She reminded me of Violet Itzli sometimes. :-D) I thought she'd be a staff mage but then I fell in love with orb & dagger so she did a lot of that too, though not as much as the yet to come 4th playthrough would...

Next up we have:

Akish Thorne, Grey Warden Warrior who started out sword & board (throwing shields is fun!) and switched to mostly two-hander (when I realized you can still throw the shield even when you're not apparently holding one!). He romanced Bellara (who reminded me of Yolotli Itzli from the moment I met her :-D ...Akish is not exactly Anselm though), and if Veryl was a Blue Hawke Rook, Akish was mostly Red Hawke, except for being a big softie whenever it came to Bel. (Also, for his endgame I played through once with Neve doing the wards on Tearstone and then again with Bellara and...I like that second one better. Oh the narrative parallels between him being a blighted Warden and then seeing Bellara get blighted but survive it too! Also I like Bel better for that part of endgame in general; it's a bit of character development - her moving from seeming more of an innocent to someone who has survived something pretty massive and draws strength from it to save the day in the end! - that she just needs more than Neve does.)

Other than Bellara, Akish's favorite thing in the world is griffons. :-D Also his eyes are supposedly violet though the screenshots make it hard to tell.

I had plans to play an Adaar Inquisitor in DAI but never got around to that playthrough before burnout hit so Akish is my first Qunari OC and I had such fun with him!

Next up: I just finished playing Rook Number Four:

Arucari "Rook" De Riva. Yes, Rook is short for Arucari. :-D She romanced Lucanis because, um, it appears that he is my Daeran for this game (i.e. I played WOTR 7 times through one summer and romanced Daeran for three of them. Guess I've got at least one more Lucanis romance to go this time around. XD) She is a mage because I missed playing as a spellblade, and a Crow because it is technically the Crow Spellblade specialization, and because I wanted to see how romancing Lucanis with another Crow went. (Conclusion: It went spectacularly! She was such fun.) She was my Purple Hawke girl, always teasing and deflecting with humor anytime things are awkward, but also generally positive beneath that. Also she got extra-large eyes in homage to DA2 elves. :-D Here is a better view of them:

She is an excellent Crow. No one ever expects assassination from anything this cute.

And last but not least...

Linza Laidir is my 5th playthrough, just barely begun! Go Team Dwarf. :-D (Team Dwarven Rogues, to be specific! We gained a Neve just after this screenshot and dear Neve has never looked so tall, being surrounded by Children of the Stone.) Don't know yet if she will be more of an archer rogue or a daggers rogue, whichever lends itself more to Gold and Glory, of course! Not sure yet about her personality (probably swinging between Blue and Red Hawke types? She did beat up everyone in the bar to get Neve Gallus' location, whereas most of my Rooks have talked the bartender down. But I think despite a knack for highly effective violence she's also a sweet little Team Mom who will be teaming up with Lucanis and Bellara for the cooking. And probably romancing Davrin. (Was I inspired by Antoine & Evka's elf/dwarf dynamic? No comment.)

So clearly I'm enjoying Veilguard overall, and from the factions & romances I've played so far, I rank them as follows:

Grey Warden

Crow

Shadow Dragon

Mourn Watcher

And...

Lucanis <3

Bellara

Emmrich

Which. Considering I went into the first playthrough expecting to fall for Emmrich, is interesting to see how it actually played out so far! Also, clearly I need to play a Warden for my third Lucanis romance, right? :-D

#from the desk of ranna #da4 #dragon age #dragon age veilguard #veilguard spoilers #ranna plays veilguard #caeda mercar #veryl ingellvar #akish thorne #arucari de riva #linza laidir

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chaos-bites · 1 year ago

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🐎 Subtle Sleipnir Worship ⚔️

Take action on something that you've been procrastinating

Stand up for yourself and others

Be a shoulder for others to lean on, but know when you need to lean on others instead

Get a candle that reminds you of him (no altar needed)

Wear jewelry that reminds you of him

Keep a picture of him in your wallet

Volunteer at a local stable or animal shelter

Donate supplies to local stables/farms or animal shelters

Support veteran organizations, animal shelters, or local farms

Have a stuffed animal horse, wolf, or snake

Have imagery of horses (especially eight-legged), Odin, swords/spears, shields, or anything you associate with Viking warriors

Try doing something you consider bold; wear a bold outfit, express yourself visibly, try something a bit risky, etc.

Go running, jogging, or walking outside

Ride a bike or horse

Exercise; get some movement throughout your day

Have some mead or some tea with honey; flavours like chamomile, jasmine, or cinnamon work well

Take a walk/hike in nature

Play in a field; run around and frolic; play with pets there if able

Feed neighborhood dogs, cats, birds, etc.

Ground yourself within nature; take time to be present within the wilderness around you

Try equine therapy if able; if not, try animal assisted therapy or use your pets to help ground yourself

Drink something that will energize you in the morning; drink something that will relax you at night

Fall asleep/meditate to the sounds of the forest or wilderness

Keep a horse's leg bone or hoof; keep eight of each (ethically sourced)

Keep a horseshoe somewhere; maybe hang it above your door

Release the things that no longer serve you

Try to style your hair in a way that makes you feel good; short hair can be styled, look online for ideas if you'd like

Dye your hair a color you've always wanted to try if you'd like

Take care of yourself physically; look after your physical health and well-being

Take a short shower in the morning to start or end your day; refresh yourself

Take a road trip; go somewhere new; get a souvenir

Explore your area; go to shops or places you've never been to before

Find a local community for you; LGBT groups, Gamer clubs, biking/hiking groups, etc.

Go camping; sleep underneath the stars

Start a garden; grow your own herbs or produce; tend to any plant

Feed neighborhood dogs, cats, birds, etc.; be kind to animals

Take time to decompress after school or work; separate your work/school life with your home life

Spend time with your loved ones, especially relatives or found family; show love to your siblings (found family included)

Spend time with your pets; play with them, give them treats, teach them tricks, etc.

Light a bonfire in honor of him; gather around it with your loved ones; have a good time, share some drinks (alcohol or not) and food/snacks

Foster sheltered pets; adopt rescued animals (if you're able to give them the care they need)

Play a video game that's open world and exploration based; ride a horse in the game if you can

Make your space comfortable for you; make it feel like home to you; get a cozy blanket, decorate with pretty lights/vines, hang art of your favorite media, etc.

Thank you for reading! For now, this is my list of discreet ways to worship Sleipnir, but I'll likely add more in the future. I hope someone finds this useful, and take care, y'all! 🧡

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

#norse paganism #norse pagan #norse deities #paganblr #deity worship #pagan tips #norse heathen #sleipnir #sleipnir deity #sleipnir worship

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fandom-lover2 · 4 months ago

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My Sword Is My Shield, And I Shall Never Bend

Chapter Five - Music And Mead Make Happy Men

Word Count - 2538

-image not mine-

Chapter Four - No Politics At The Table

Optimus could not stop thinking about what Saiph had said. Mostly because he knew she was right. All this fighting, all this death, it broke their futures more than it saved them. All the fighting was doing now was destroying their chances of rebuilding Cybertron. If the war ended, when it ended, all that would be left was barren land.

But Saiph had also been right, and the General was ashamed to admit this, that he was too stubborn to meet Megatron to talk of peace.

Perhaps stubborn was the wrong word, he knew no solution would come of it. Megatron would not yield and would not agree on a peaceful resolution for the kingdom’s future. Any talks of surrender they had would be treated as the perfect opportunity to plan an ambush and would only end in more fighting.

Perhaps this war was not meant to end peacefully, but rather only through one side completely eradicating the other, and everything else in the process.

No, Optimus needed to have hope. If not for himself, then for his followers, his allies, for the good and innocent people of Cybertron who had not deserved this.

Dinner after Siaph’s departure had been uncomfortable and silent. Everyone ate quickly, and then dispersed. The Autobot warriors had full bellies and, once again, tired bodies. Many settled down for the night, Ratchet going to check on Bumblebee a final time before retiring for the day.

Optimus could not sleep, did not even bother to try. He knew his mind was too preoccupied. All Saiph had said, Saiph herself, it was all playing on his mind.

So, he went for a walk.

The cool night air ruffled through his hair, catching his cloak as he scrolled the town’s streets. Many were empty, market closed for the day and everyone retiring for the night. But, when the wind blew just right, Optimus could hear the music. The tavern.

Saiph said she would be at the tavern, not that that had any sway on his decision. He just happened to be interested in going to have a look, maybe get a glass of mead for himself.

Following the music, he finally found it. Men stumbled in and out the doorway, the band and cheers filling the hair, mixing with the stench of ale. Slipping between drunken men, the general made his way inside. He looked around, his height giving him an advantage to see over the crowd to find her.

He soon found that wasn’t needed.

There she was, hair untethered once again. She was in a simple dress, barefoot and atop a table. She was singing along with the men, but the words never met Optimus. It was her smile that he focused on, the joy in her eyes as she looked around the room at the mirthful men.

When was the last time his men had been so carefree? When was the last time he had smiled? She looked over, and her eyes caught his. She paused for just a moment, taking the General in, and then resumed her dancing and singing.

Optimus decided standing there like an idiot was not a good look, so he made his way to the bar and found an open seat. Somehow, over the cheers and chants, he managed to order a drink.

He had taken about two sips when the song changed, and almost dropped his mug when Saiph appeared beside him.

“If you’re here, that means it over, right?”

Optimus frowned, leaning down to he could he sure he heard her properly, and her him. “What is over?”

“Dinner. Dinner is over.” she elaborated.

Optimus nodded, and watched in confusion as a smile spilt across her face, her eyes taking on a dangerous glint of joy.

“Come on.” She reached down, grabbing his hand and pulling.

Optimus had no choice but to slip from his chair and follow her out the tavern, abandoning his cup on the bar counter and following the parting she made as she dashed away.

The cool night air greeted them as they turned left out the tavern, heading back towards the mansion.

Some of the men laughed at the urgency, mistaking the situation. She did not give him a chance to slow down and explain.

Her tiny, smooth hand remained latched into his.

“Come on!” she smiled, pulling him along behind him as she raced towards the house.

His heart pounded as he followed after her, watching her hair bounce as she led him through the town with only the light of the moon to guide her.

It was so simple, just run and let her guide him. Just keep her close, and everything would make sense.

With every step following her, Optimus felt a year of war and burdens and hatred, and pain, and responsibility melt away. Running with her was all he needed. It made him feel alive, so simply at peace.

He found himself wishing they would never find the house, but in no time at all the moon was blocked out by brick and glass.

Only, she wasn’t going to enter the house. Or at least, not through the front door. She pulled him to a side entrance, past the stables and the servant’s quarters to a door.

Without knocking, she shoved the door open and pulled the General inside.

The kitchen. She had brought him to the kitchen. The very busy kitchen, where staff were still bustling around.

“Are we almost ready?” she asked, letting go of his hand.

He tried to not look sad about it, missing the warmth.

“Yes. Final trays are being prepared.” The head chef answered, carrying a half full tray of the chicken that had been for dinner.

“Good. We’ll need to move fast.”

“What is happening?” The General decided to ask, because he was wildly confused. Why would they need to move food so quickly?

Saiph turned to look at Optimus with a smirk, “You’ll see. But we need to do it fast, and no one can know.”

The door leading to the main house opened, and a few more staff carried in the final trays of food. The metal plates were placed on the large central table, and the food was sorted to be placed onto smaller trays.

Optimus watched. Why would she be so interested in the food being thrown out? Maybe she wanted some, since she had missed most of dinner?

“Ok, we’re ready.” The chef spoke, walking over to them and bowing to Saiph.

“Let’s go. By now they should be-”

Everybody froze when there was the sound of a door knob rattling, and then the door connecting the kitchen to the main house opened once again.

Apparently, the soldiers weren’t expecting anybody to be on the other end either, because Ironhide and Jazz froze upon seeing they were not entering an empty kitchen.

“Uhh, what’s up Boss?” Jazz greeted.

“I don’t know.” Optimus replied.

“Hurry up and get in here.” Saiph urged.

The soldiers followed her orders, filing into the kitchen. All 18 of them and Sunstreaker closed the door.

“Great. More hands will make this faster. Everyone grab a tray.”

General Optimus still had no idea what was going on, but he was not about to stand around questioning her. Not when she looked so attractive with her stern expression and determined eyes.

He took a tray closest to him, and his men followed his lead.

“Optimus, what?” Ratchet managed to ask as he passed his leader, but all the General could do was shrug.

Saiph took a tray too, and when everybody had accumulated all they could carry, she nodded to the kitchen boy and he opened the door.

She led the way back out, through the stables, into the streets and towards town.

“What the hell is going on?” Ironhide gruffly asked.

In response, he was shushed by half the staff and Saiph.

“They may be busy screwing themselves silly, but they could still hear you. Shut up and walk.” Saiph whispered, and Optimus tried to fight the smile at his lieutenant’s blush.

It took a couple minutes’ walk to get to the town’s centre, and Optimus was surprised to see it full. Not only full, decorated.

All around the fountain, tables were set up and candles burned. Lanterns hung from strings, illuminating the centre. People stood around in small crowds, children close to their, the band from the tavern stood to one corner preparing to start playing.

When they noticed the approaching trail of food, they cheered.

This was food left over from the feast, supposed to be fed to the pigs or tossed in the sewers. That was how the rich were, uncaring of anyone not equal to them. And they certainly didn’t care what happened to their left-over food.

That was how things go.

But here she was, his gorgeous Saiph, hand delivering food to the people in secret. The food from her house, a meal she did not end up eating that was meant for her, and she was arranging a secret meeting to feed the people.

People who were starved by her father.

The soldiers looked rather stupid, just standing there dumbfounded with trays of food in their arms. Then again, Optimus was doing the same.

Saiph had placed her tray down and was speaking to a group of people. The remaining kitchen staff had placed their trays down too, beginning to help distribute the food to the people.

Optimus moved forward, walking across the centre and placing his own tray down. His men followed his lead, placing their own trays on any available space on the tables.

“Please, everyone!” Saiph addressed the crowd. “Dig in!” She gestured to the food with a smile.

The people, hungry and overworked, visibly relaxed as they were handed plates of food. The tension in their shoulders loosened, the smiles reached their eyes. The children ran around, chasing one another. The band began to play again.

Optimus moved slowly, watching in awe as he moved to sit against the fountain.

His men scattered around, some moving to help hand out food. Others were stood to the side, watching the events with gentle smiles and mugs of mead. Jazz was with the band, singing along.

Then, she was beside him again. She handed him a mug.

“For earlier.” she supplied.

He took it with a thanks, grateful that he had an excuse to let their fingers brush together.

“So, you do this every night?” he asked after watching the crowd with her for a time.

She shook her head, and looked down at her lap. “Not enough food on a normal night. Only when there’s a feast.”

“They appreciate it.” He reassured, reaching over and placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I want to do more.”

Oh, why was this woman making him fall harder in love with her? He’d only know her for a day, and not even a full one at that.

Saiph looked up, and then was rushing to stand. For a brief second, the General thought they were caught, or under attack, or something far worse.

But there was no threat. Just an elderly lady.

Saiph rushed to her side, taking her arm and beginning to help lead her to an open chair. She smiled at something the elder woman said, then laughed politely and helped her sit. Reaching up, she unlatched her cloak and placed it around the woman.

It wasn’t a cold night, the last few days of summer still clinging to the air, but it was not warm enough to be running around in short sleeves.

As she moved from the elder woman, Optimus approached her, unclasping his own cloak and wrapping it around her before she had a chance to see him appear from behind.

“I would be ok.” she defended, but did not make a move to remove his cloak. In fact, she wrapped it tighter around herself.

And then he looked up at him, and past him, and her smile dropped. “Oh my Primus.”

The General turned, and his heart dropped.

It was Bumblebee, being guided by the young boy Raf and Perceptor.

Saiph rushed past the Prime, a hush settling over the crowd as they began to notice the young man. A few of the citizens bowed.

Optimus often forgot that Bumblebee came from a Nobel family, and therefore was used to this kind of lavish life. Or at least had been, before joining the war efforts.

Saiph reached his side, and angrily gestured around, her ire aimed at the house doctor. He seemed to try reassure her, and Raf tried add his own opinion, but she cut them all off.

Bumblebee stopped her, reaching over to grab hold of her arms and pulling her into him.

He held her close, resting his chin on her head and closing his eyes. She said something, and he cracked a smile, releasing her.

“Bad idea.” Ratchet startled the General, Ironhide coming up on his other side.

“I did not-”

“Oh please Prime, you wear your thoughts on your face.” Jazz cut him off, joining the growing crowd.

“We won’t be here long, and when we leave it will be for the front lines again.” Ironhide started.

“She will try to join us.” Jazz observed.

“Only thing harder will be keeping Bumblebee here.” Ratchet added.

“She will not join the war. You heard what she said at dinner.” The General defended on her behalf.

“Yeah, but she seems to be the type to fight for what she wants.” Sideswipe joined the group.

“She will not leave them.” The General gestured to the other two people who had joined the family reunion.

“But you cannot stay here to be with her.”

Optimus was slightly offended Ratchet even thought to add that, but his medic was not wrong. It startled Optimus how easily he was willing to actually consider staying with her.

All these years, all they had gained, and he was going to throw it away for a pretty girl.

But Saiph was not just a pretty girl, she was a woman. A strong woman, a proud woman, a smart woman.

“She would make a good Queen.” Ironhide spoke up.

An odd thing to say, but he was not wrong.

“Maybe we could stay a few more days.” Jazz decided to add. “Make sure none of Meggie’s men followed us, see if we can get a few more supplies while we’re here.”

“And I would like to ensure Bumblebee adjusts well to the environment, and that he receives the care he should.” Ratchet casually added as he sipped his mead.

“I want to see how well that blacksmith can wield a hammer.” Ironhide cracked his knuckles.

“I want more mead.” You could always count on Sideswipe to be honest.

“A few more days would not hurt.” The General agreed, watching as Saiph had now led her cousin to sit and was holding a plate of food for him to pick at. “I believe this town has something for all of us.”

“Or someone.” Ratchet muttered into his mug of mead, and the small crowd dispersed.

Someone. In the General’s case, it was definitely a someone.

Tags: @simpsallthetime1997

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