#i loved the beautiful mountain top murder palace

[licncourt]

how was mt rainier!!! I live in the area but haven’t been to the park in a while.

It was so good!!! I am hot all the time always so I was a fan of a crisp 50° + snow drifts in mid-June. And the mountain was beautiful, I was so happy we were able see it! We got there well after dark (horror movie vibes drive up the mountain) and the morning was very misty, but we got a great view that afternoon!

We saw some great wildflowers too, a very cute black tail buck and what I think was a hoary marmot (unclear). No elk or bears though :(

^ not my pic but where we were!

[shadowqueenjude]

Nesta ends IC part 12

The Spring Court was even more beautiful than she had dreamed.

It was so bright and colorful. The chattering of birds in the trees was music to her ears. And there were so many types of flowers, varieties so numerous that there were many that Elain had only seen in books. The grass was so green it almost looked fake. There were small ponds with little lotuses floating across the surface, so clean the water was a silvery blue. But the most stunning thing about the Spring Court was the roses.

There were roses in every color in existence, and Elain was sure these flowers were magical, because no such color flowers existed in the human world. Coming down from the flowers were thorns so sharp they could cut a human hand off. Elain would never need to make a garden here. There were enough flowers to fill a thousand of her little gardens back home.

And she was glad about it. She had a greater purpose than tending to gardens. After so long in the Night Court, Elain had never expected to see a place more beautiful. But the Spring Court…topped it by a long shot. Elain couldn’t understand how Feyre ever left this place.

Lucien offered his hand to her, and she took it, letting him guide her towards the palace. Elain tried to recall her sister’s descriptions of the place. It looked nothing like what Feyre had described.

“Tamlin trashed the old place,” Lucien explained. “So, I had to have it rebuilt.”

Elain shuddered. “This Tamlin sounds like a real asshole.”

“He didn’t use to be like that,” Lucien said. There was a lot of sadness in his voice-pain. “He was my best friend. He saved my life when my brothers came to kill me. We had each other’s backs for a long time.” He took a deep breath. “What we went through under the mountain- it changed us. It took our worst characteristics and inflated them. For Tamlin, it was that need to control, to protect. He and Feyre dealt with their trauma the same; burrowed it down and attempted to ignore it. It tore them apart, and lo and behold, a few months later, Feyre is married to the wicked High Lord of the Night Court.”

Elain squeezed his hand, unable to come up with an adequate response. “Do you mind telling me- what happened down there? To you, I mean.”

Lucien sighed. “I was only down there for a little while. But they were some of the worst days of my life. What Amarantha did to us…she loved playing with me. Then Feyre too, when she came. Because we were the two people most loved by Tamlin. When Feyre came, Amarantha demanded that she tell her her name. Used me as bait. Asked me Feyre’s name. I didn’t say shit, of course. I could never betray Tamlin like that. I had sworn him an oath. Or Feyre, who despite being a murderous human, had grown on me. She had become my friend. And Rhysand was there- Amarantha’s lackey. To mind torture me. But I was ready. I was ready for Rhysand to torture me, turn me to dust, end my life. I’d sooner do that than betray them.”

Tears bit the corners of Elain’s eyes. So brave- so admiringly brave.

“But Feyre heard me. I made one small noise of pain, and she gave away her name. To spare me. After that, I knew I’d do anything to help her. Oath or no oath.”

He spoke about her with such…intimacy. Elain knew Feyre had been with Tamlin and Rhysand, but she wondered if there had ever been something between Feyre and Lucien. God knows if Elain had been in Feyre’s place, she wouldn’t have looked twice at a Tamlin or a Rhysand when this male was right there.

Ok. So, she was jealous. A little bit. So what?

“And then, I had to watch them torture her. Her human body was so much more fragile than ours…I’ll never forget her screams. I can only imagine how bad it was for Tamlin. Later on, I was able to sneak into the dungeons and give her a cloak and fix her nose. I left coloration so the repair wasn’t obvious, of course. Then in her first task…I helped her. I gave her the direction of the monster that was hunting her. It saved her life, but Amarantha nearly killed me for it. Tamlin begged for my life. Amarantha agreed but forced him to deliver my punishment. Twenty lashes. Then she used magic to keep my Fae body from healing properly. I couldn’t walk for days.”

Rage filled Elain’s body at the unspeakable torture her mate had endured. “The second task…There was a riddle. There were hot spikes that threatened to come down on me and her. All Feyre had to do was answer the riddle and we were free. But those hot spikes kept coming lower and lower. And when Feyre looked at me, when I saw the panic in her eyes, I realized…this bitch couldn’t read. I was going to die because my murderous teenage human friend who also happened to be my High Lord’s girlfriend was fucking illiterate. At some point I was like, ‘Just pick one!’ It was a 33% chance of survival but still higher than not picking one at all. Then at the very last minute, she slammed her hand on one, and miraculously, it was the right answer. I was so delirious; I was muttering prayers to the floor.”

Elain was so entranced by the story that she didn’t even notice when the two of them walked right through the doors of the palace. Her hand was still tightly clenched in his, and it just felt so right to be there, to have their hands entwined.

“Then,” Lucien whispered, “I had to watch that filthy prick dress Feyre up like a whore. He drugged her with some kind of Faerie wine and forced her to do lap dances for him. The scum of the earth, that man. And let me tell you, that dress left nothing to the imagination. She might as well have been naked.”

Elain again seethed with anger- this time on her sister’s behalf. “What a bastard.”

Lucien nodded. “Then the final task. Feyre was forced to stab two faeries, plus Tamlin. But Feyre knew Tamlin wouldn’t die, because of his heart of stone. But Amarantha tricked her. She used her powers to kill her. We all heard her neck snap. But just before she died, she answered the riddle that saved us all.”

There were tears in Lucien’s eyes too.

“And Tamlin raged. He went after Amarantha. I threw him my sword, and he ran it through her head.”

“Wow,” Elain said. “That is…an insane story.”

Lucien smirked. “You want more stories, oh, all-seeing goddess of flowers, then there’s a lot more where that came from.”

Elain blushed.

Nesta’s POV

“I can’t help but think this is a terrible idea,” Nesta said, scowling at stunning red dress that hugged her body. Her hair was in some complicated updo, and it took all her self-control not to yank it out.

“You’re doing great sweetie,” Eris crooned mockingly.

Nesta glared at him. The asshole of course looked perfect in his glittering royal green robes, because why look anything less than perfect when you can be flawless all the time?

“This is bullshit. No one is going to believe I’d actually marry you.”

“I’d be slightly offended by that, but I know it’s far from the truth. My brother is mated to one Archeron, so why wouldn’t I go for another one? You sisters are taking Prythian by storm, you know.”

Nesta snorted. “Was it supposed to be hard? This place has been stagnant for years.” Eris grinned. “That is has. Prythian has been waiting a long time for you ladies. Especially you, Nesta Archeron.”

He offered his hand. His flawless hand, with long, deft fingers that had been inside her body. Nesta took it. His hands were smooth as butter despite the countless lives Nesta was sure he had taken with them.

“Hold on tight,” he murmured in her ear as they winnowed away. They were at the edge of a forest.

And there, about 500 feet away, was a large, sloping house so in tune with its surroundings it appeared to be part of the mountain it was built on. It was absolutely massive, layers upon layers coming together to form the sprawling complex. There were soldiers everywhere, armed to the teeth. But as Eris came through, his face morphed into a cool mask, Nesta beside him, looking equally bored, none of them stopped the duo. Soon, they neared the gates to the palace. The guards were even more densely packed near the entrance than on the field. Unbelievable. Eris didn’t acknowledge any of them as he strode in, Nesta following his example. The two of them didn’t dare speak as Eris led them through room after room, until he finally turned toward the throne room. And as Eris led them towards the dais, Nesta met the eyes of Beron Vanserra, who smiled like a wolf. Eris really was his mother’s son. She saw almost nothing of him in his father’s face. Only the coldness of his expression, the sharpness of the brow, and the casual grace he exuded. She had only seen the man once before, at the High Lord meeting. She hadn’t liked him then, and she certainly didn’t like him now. She knew quite a bit about the Autumn Court, having learnt from Eris and to an extent, Lucien. The most beautiful court- and the most vicious. Beron was the oldest of the High Lords. Nesta felt like that was a sign that he should just drop dead. But she maintained a small, bland smile on her face as she curtseyed to the asshole who had somehow raised Lucien and Eris.

“Father,” Eris bowed. “Allow me to introduce you to my betrothed. Nesta Archeron.”

Beron’s eyes swept over her. A cold, calculated assessment. Nesta straightened. Let a little silver enter her eyes. Not a lot, but enough to send a message.

You’re not the only Alpha here, Beron.

Beron remained unruffled. Simply continued to study her, then his son. Then said, voice full of vicious triumph, “So another one of my sons is to marry an Archeron.” Eris stiffened ever so slightly but said nothing. Beron still pretended like Lucien was his son? So, the world hadn’t realized then that it was the power of the Day Court that had saved Feyre Cursebreaker’s life.

It felt like they were in the forest, playing a dominance game, marking their territory. It was both ridiculous and terrifying at the same time.

But then Beron waved his hand. A clear dismissal of Eris and Nesta.

Their plan had worked. Beron had bought their ruse. But somehow, Nesta felt that if she walked out of the throne room and Beron was still alive, they’d never have a good chance of killing him. It was in this open place that he was the most vulnerable. Hence the soldiers.

So, Nesta disregarded the plan she and Eris had carefully constructed and slowly but surely, let silver fire build in her veins. Shuffled her feet. Beron was hardly paying attention. Nesta caught Eris’s eye, however, and he understood her plan.

And just as they reached the exit to the throne room, Nesta whipped around and struck.

She had unleashed incredible magic to defeat Rhysand and save Feyre.

Yet, it was nothing compared to the power that now rocked the world.

Something boomed in the distance, as if her power had summoned a storm. Or maybe she was the storm. She certainly felt like it. She was the eye of the hurricane, she was everything and nothing, she was all that was Made, she was life and death, she was fire and shadow, the silver flames raw from the depths of the Cauldron itself.

This girl, who had had the audacity to steal from the Goddess of the Fae? She couldn’t be beaten by anyone. Beron didn’t stand a chance as her storm hit him square in the chest, and his soldiers could only watch in horror as Beron became younger and younger, until he was nothing but dust on the wind. And Nesta noticed there was a whiff of something red hot in there. Like smoking embers. She had reduced him to the very essence of what he had been crafted from. She turned around to find Eris bowing to her, along with the rest of the faeries in the room. She wondered if it was due to the fact that despite the fact that she had just murdered their High Lord, they had witnessed such incredible power that they felt compelled to bow. Or if they hated him as much as she did. Her question was answered when Eris kissed her hand and said, loud and clear, “All hail the High Lady of the Autumn Court!”

Tamlin’s POV

Tamlin felt naked without the High Lord power roiling through his veins.

He didn’t regret giving it up. Not in the slightest. It was a burden he never expected to have, never wanted to have. He had never been good at any of that courtly stuff. He had been happy to leave that stuff to his father and brothers. And after he had become High Lord after all…the title had brought him nothing but pain. Nothing but misery. So, he would leave that title behind him to become one with nature. He just didn’t expect to feel the absence of his beast form so badly. It hadn’t truly left him, of course. It was still there, and if Tamlin strained himself, he could probably form claws. But the full-blooded beast was gone.

He hoped his friend forgave him for putting the High Lord’s burden on him. But Lucien had always been stronger than him. Better than him. He had been destined to become a High Lord practically from the moment he was born. It was why his brothers had hunted him so maliciously, despite him being the youngest of seven.

He had been a terrible friend recently. He had been so bitter from the fallout with Feyre that he had taken it out on Lucien. Lucien, who had come back for him. The only person who had. He had been his only companion those weeks.

He prayed that Lucien would understand how sorry he was. Tamlin had been doing a lot of meditation. He found it centered him, calmed him. Out here in nature, he was at home. He had lost track of how long ago it had been when he had said goodbye to Lucien. Time meant nothing to him. Time held no meaning. There was only nature.

In this place, he found he was able to achieve something that he hadn’t felt in a long time. A feeling he thought he had felt with Feyre, in those brief months when he had fallen for her, thorns and all. But even that feeling couldn’t compare to this. Something restless had settled inside him. At last, he was at home.

He had found inner peace.

Not me completely changing the entire structure of Prythian 😭😭😭😭three new rulers in the span of a few months, two of them women. But who the hell cares. I know Nesta's fire isn't the same as Lucien and Eris's but it's still a variety of fire. And Nesta is just so powerful I feel like the Autumn Court magic would choose Nesta over Eris. I mean Eris will still become a High Lord if Nesta marries him though ;) The ending is for all the Tam Tam stans who still have hope for him! I know I didn't resolve Neris and Elucien, but they're both extremely implied and basically inevitable, but let me know if you think I should write one last part resolving both relationships!

[themousefromfantasyland]

How the Tooth Fairy Became a Guardian

Extracted from Toothiana, Queen of the Tooth Fairy Armies, third book in the Guardians of Childhood series by William Joyce.

In this series, which served as inspiration for the DreamWorks' Rise of the Guardians, William Joyce managed to create one of the craziest and most epic origin stories for the Tooth Fairy. If I'm not mistaken, in one interview, he himself admitted how crazy it was, and how it was inspired by jungle movies he watched as a kid.

The bookworm bowed and told them, “The story of the Queen of Toothiana lies in volume six of Curious Unexplainables of the East.”

“Of course! I should have remembered that myself,” Ombric said, nodding. “Mr. Qwerty, please enlighten us.” (Ombric, the Wizard,and Qwerty, the literal bookworm, are characters that only appeared in the books)

The Guardians sat around the table while Mr. Qwerty began his tale.

“To know the story of Queen Toothiana,” he said, “you must first hear the tale of the maharaja, his slave Haroom, and the Sisters of Flight.”

“Sisters of Flight?” North interrupted.

“Sisters of Flight,” Mr. Qwerty repeated patiently. The image of a beautiful winged woman appeared on one of Mr. Qwerty’s pages. She was human-size, with long, willowy arms and legs and a heart-shaped face. But her wings were magnificent, and she held a bow and arrow of extraordinary design.

The Sisters of Flight were an immortal race of winged women who ruled the city of Punjam Hy Loo, which sits atop the steepest mountain in the mysterious lands of the Farthest East. An army of noble elephants stood guard at the base of the mountain. No humans were allowed to enter, for the mountain’s jungle was a haven for the beasts of the wild—a place where they could be safe from men and their foolishness.

Toothiana’s father was a human by the name of Haroom. He had been sold at birth into slavery as a companion for a young Indian maharaja. Despite being slave and master, the maharaja and Haroom became great friends. But the maharaja was a silly, vain boy who had his every wish and whim granted. Yet this did not make him happy, for he always wanted more.

Haroom, Toothiana's father

Haroom, who had nothing, wanted nothing and so was very content. Secretly, the maharaja admired his friend for this. For his part, Haroom admired the maharaja for knowing what he wanted—and getting it.

The maharaja loved to hunt and slay all the animals of the wild, and Haroom, who never tired of watching the powerful elegance of wild creatures such as tigers and snow leopards, was an excellent tracker. But he hated to see the animals killed, so when that moment came, he always looked away. As a slave, he could do nothing to stop his master. And so, with Haroom tracking, the maharaja killed one of every beast in his kingdom, lining the palace walls with their heads as trophies. But the one animal the maharaja coveted most continued to elude him.

In the mountain land ruled by the Sisters of Flight, there dwelled one creature that no slave, man, or ruler had ever seen: the flying elephant of Punjam Hy Loo.

The maharaja was determined to do anything to have one for his collection, but every time he tried to force his way up the mountain, the elephant army at its base turned him back. He realized that he must find another way to reach Punjam Hy Loo.

In those ancient times no man had yet discovered the mystery of flight. But after demanding advice from his wizards and soothsayers, the maharaja learned a secret: Children can fly when they dream, and when the Moon shines brightly, their dreams can become so vivid that some of them come true. Sometimes the children remember, but mostly they do not. That is why children sometimes wake up in their parents’ beds without knowing how they got there—they flew!

The wizards told the maharaja a second secret.” At this, Mr. Qwerty lowered his voice, and all the Guardians leaned closer. “The memory of everything that happens to a child is stored in that child’s baby teeth.

And so the maharaja’s wizards gave him an idea: fashion a craft of the lost teeth of children and command it to remember how to fly. The maharaja sent out a decree throughout his kingdom, stating that whenever a child lost a tooth, it must be brought to his palace. His subjects happily complied, and it was not long before he had assembled a craft unlike any other the world had ever known.

Meanwhile, the maharaja ordered Haroom to make an archer’s bow of purest gold and one single ruby-tipped arrow. When the weapon was finished, the maharaja ordered Haroom to join him aboard the craft. Then he said these magic words:

‘Remember,

remember,

the moonlit flights

of magic nights.’

And just as the royal wizards had promised, the craft flew silently through the sky, over the jungle, and past the elephants who guarded Punjam Hy Loo.

They descended from the clouds and flew into the still-sleeping city. In the misty light of dawn, the maharaja could hardly tell where the jungle ended and the city began. But Haroom, used to seeking out tracks, spotted some he had never seen before—tracks that could only belong to the flying elephant, for although they looked similar to a normal elephant’s, his keen eye saw one addition: an extra digit pointing backward, like that of a bird.

It did not take long to find the flying elephant, sleeping in a nest in the low-lying limbs of an enormous jujube tree. The maharaja raised the golden bow and took careful aim. The tip of the ruby arrow glittered in the first rays of morning sunlight. Haroom looked away.

Suddenly, there came an intense, cacophonous alarm, as if every creature of Punjam Hy Loo knew of the maharaja’s murderous intent. Charging down from the towers above came the Sisters of Flight, wings outstretched, with all manner of weapons at the ready—gleaming swords, razor-sharp daggers, fantastical flying spears with wings of their own. It was a sight so beautiful, so terrifying that Haroom and the maharaja froze.

Then the maharaja raised his bow again, this time aiming it at the Sisters of Flight. ‘Look, Haroom, an even greater prize,’ he exclaimed.

In that single moment Haroom’s whole life changed. He knew, for the very first time, what he wanted. He could not bear to see a Sister of Flight harmed. He ordered the maharaja to stop.

The maharaja paid his servant no heed. He let loose the arrow. Haroom blocked it. Its ruby tip pierced his chest, and he crumbled to the ground.

The maharaja stared in shock, then kneeled beside his fallen friend. Weeping, he tried to stop the flow of blood but could not. Haroom was dying.

The Sisters of Flight landed around them. The most beautiful of the sisters, the one the maharaja had meant to kill, approached them. ‘We did not know that any man could be so selfless,’ she said. Her sisters nodded.

With one hand, she grabbed the arrow and plucked it from Haroom’s chest, then kissed her fingertips and gently touched his wound.

Haroom stirred, and his eyes fluttered open. All he could see was the face of the Sister of Flight. And all she could see was the brave and noble Haroom.

He was a slave no more.

She took his hand, and in that instant her wings vanished.

The other sisters lunged toward the maharaja in fury. They raised their swords, and Haroom could see they meant to kill his former master. ‘He will no longer harm you,’ he said. ‘Please, let him go—send him on his way.’

The sisters looked from one to the other, then agreed. But they declared that the maharaja must leave all he brought with him. The golden bow, the ruby-tipped arrow, the flying craft of teeth, and Haroom, his only friend.

‘And one thing more. You must also leave your vanity and cruelty behind so that we can know and understand them.’

The maharaja was heartbroken but agreed.

The flying elephant glided down from his nest, and with his trunk, he touched the maharaja’s forehead, and all the vanity and cruelty went from him.

But once these things were gone, there was little left—the maharaja was as simple as a baby monkey. In fact, he even sprouted a tail and scampered away speaking gibberish, shrinking to the size of an infant.

His vanity and cruelty would never be forgotten—the flying elephant had them now, and an elephant never forgets. As for Haroom and the beautiful Sister of Flight, they were married and lived on in Punjam Hy Loo. Within a year, a child was born. A girl. Selfless like her father. Pure of heart like her mother. She was named Toothiana.

The child of Haroom and Rashmi (for that was Toothiana���s mother’s name) seemed to be a normal mortal child. As there were no other human children living in Punjam Hy Loo, her parents thought it best to raise her among other mortals, and so they settled on the outskirts of a small village at the edge of the jungle. The young girl was well loved and protected and lived a simple, happy life until she was twelve and lost her last baby tooth. That’s when all her troubles began.

“Troubles?” Katherine asked nervously. (Katherine is also another book only character. She is friend of the Guardians and future guardian herself, Mother Goose, guardian of the stories)

“Yes, troubles,” Mr. Qwerty said. “For when she lost her last baby tooth, Toothiana sprouted wings. By the end of this first miraculous day, she could fly with the speed of a bird, darting to the top of the tallest trees to choose the ripest mangoes, papayas, and starfruit for the children of the village. She played with the birds and made friends with the wind.

But while the children delighted in Toothiana’s new skill, the adults of the village were bewildered, even frightened, by this half bird, half girl. Some thought she was an evil spirit and should be killed; others saw ways to use her, as either a freak to be caged and paraded about, or to force her to fly to the palace of the new maharaja and steal his jewels.

Haroom and Rashmi knew that to keep their daughter safe, they would have to pack their few belongings and escape. And so they did, deep into the jungle. The village children, all of whom adored Toothiana, tried to persuade their parents to leave her alone. But it was no use. The grown-ups of the village had gone mad with fear and greed.

They built a large cage, hired the best hunters in the land, and asked them to capture the young girl. Among these was a hunter most mysterious. He spoke not a word and was shrouded from head to foot in tattered cloth stitched together with jungle vines. The villagers were wary of him, and even the other hunters found him peculiar. ‘He knows the jungle better than any of us—it’s as if he’s more a creature than a man,’ they remarked quietly among themselves.

But Haroom and Rashmi were as wily as any hunter. Haroom, knowing everything there was to know about tracking, could disguise their trail so that no one could follow it. And Rashmi, who could converse with any animal, enlisted their aid in confounding the hunters. Tigers, elephants, even giant pythons would intercept the hunters whenever they neared. But the hunters, eager for the riches and fame they’d receive if they caged Toothiana, would not give up.

Rashmi, Toothiana's mother

The children of the village were also determined to thwart the hunters. They defied their parents, sending word to Toothiana and her mother and father again and again whenever the hunters were stalking the jungle. Toothiana, wiser still, hid in the treetops by day, only visiting her parents in the darkest hours of the night.

After weeks of the best hunters in the land failing to capture Toothiana, the cunning villagers became more sly. They secretly followed their children and discovered where Toothiana’s parents were hiding. They left a trail of coins for the hunters to follow. But only one hunter came—the one they almost feared. It was then that the Mysterious Hunter finally spoke. His voice was strange, high-pitched, almost comical, but his words were cold as death. ‘Seize the parents,’ he snarled. ‘Make it known that I will slit their throats if Toothiana does not surrender. That will bring this child of flight out of hiding.’

His plan made sense; the villagers did as he suggested. They attacked Haroom and Rashmi’s camp. With so many against them, the two surrendered without a fight. They had told their clever daughter to never try and help them if they were ever captured.

But the Mysterious Hunter had planned for that. He shouted out to any creature that could hear, ‘The parents of the flying girl will die by dawn if she comes not!’

The creatures of the jungle hurried to warn Toothiana that her parents were doomed if she did not come. Toothiana had never disobeyed her parents, but the thought of them at the dubious mercy of these grown-ups filled her with rage and determination, and she flew straight to her parents’ aid. She dove down from the treetops, ready to kill any who would try to harm her parents.

But Haroom and Rashmi were brave and cunning as well. Haroom, who had never harmed a living creature, was prepared to stop at nothing to prevent his daughter from being enslaved. And Rashmi, like all Sisters of Flight, had been a great warrior. As Toothiana neared, they slashed and fought like beings possessed. Toothiana flickered back and forth, hovering over her mother and father, reaching for them, but she did not have the strength to lift them up over the angry mob. Rashmi thrust a stringed pouch into her daughter’s hands. ‘Keep these to remember us by. Keep these to protect yourself,’ she pleaded to her child.

'Now go!’ commanded her father. ‘GO!’

With a heartrending cry, the winged girl did as her father ordered. She flew away but stopped, unsure of what to do. Her ears filled with the sound of the vengeful mob falling upon her parents.

‘Go!’ shouted her mother.

Toothiana flew wildly and desperately away. And as she went, she screamed from the depths of her soul. It was the scream of two beings: human and animal. It was a scream so pained and fierce that it caused all the villagers who were attacking her parents to go briefly deaf. All except . . . the Mysterious Hunter. He screamed back to Toothiana. His was a scream equally unsettling—a scream of rage and hate that was more animal than human. Toothiana knew in that instant that she had a mortal enemy—one who she must kill or be killed by.

But for now she would grieve. She flew to the highest treetop and huddled deep inside its foliage. She had no tears, only the blank ache of a now-empty life. She rocked back and forth in a trance of disbelief for a full day and night. Then she remembered the pouch her mother had thrust into her hands. Trembling, she opened it. Inside was a small box carved from a single giant ruby. It was covered in feathery patterns, and Toothiana knew that the box had once been the ruby-tipped arrow that had nearly killed her parents. Inside this beautiful box was a cluster of baby teeth and a note:

Our Dearest Girl,

These are the teeth of your childhood. If you have them under your pillow as you sleep, or hold it tightly, you will remember that which you need—a memory of happy days, or of deepest hopes, or even of us in better times.

But one tooth is not yours. It is a tooth of amazing power, and from what being it comes from, we do not know.

Use it only in times of the greatest danger or need.

Your Dearest Parents

Toothiana still did not cry, not even after reading the note. She slept with her baby teeth under her pillow and took solace in the dreams and memories it gave her.

Toothiana stayed in the jungle. She began to hate her wings. Once, she had thought them wondrous things, but now she saw them as the reason for the death of her parents. Her grief and loneliness knew no depths. The creatures of the jungle did what they could to help her, by bringing her food and making her treetop sleeping places as comfortable as possible. The children of the village tried to aid as well, but they now had to be doubly cautious of the village grown-ups.

As for Toothiana, she became more and more convinced that she belonged nowhere—not among the creatures of the jungle and certainly not among the humans of the village. She was alone. When she was at her very saddest, she would take one of her baby teeth from the carved box she always carried in her mother’s pouch she now wore around her neck, and hold it until it revealed its memories.

As the lonely years passed, Toothiana saw that the village children lost much of their innocence and some of their goodness as they grew up. She began to collect their teeth, so that, in the future, she could give them back their childhood memories and remind them of their kindness, just as her own parents had done for her.

Soon the children, not wanting their parents to find out, began to hide their lost teeth under their pillows for Toothiana to find. And she, cheered by this new game of sorts, began in turn to leave behind small bits of treasure she had found in the jungle. A gold nugget here. A sprinkling of sapphire chips there.

But you can imagine the curiosity that is stirred when a five-year-old sits down to breakfast with an uncut ruby in her palm, or when a ten-year-old boy comes to the table with a pocket full of emeralds. Once again the hearts of the grown-ups filled with greed, and it wasn’t long before they forced their children to tell them how they had come upon those treasures. Soon enough they had laid a new trap for Toothiana.

One dark, cloudy night Toothiana flew to the village to make her nightly rounds. A boy named Akela had lost his two front teeth, and Toothiana had a special treasure saved for him: two beautiful uncut diamonds. But as she entered his open window, it wasn’t Akela she found. Instead the Mysterious Hunter leaped toward her. From behind his shroud of rags, she could see the strangest eyes. Close together. Beady. Not entirely human. And cold with hate.

Toothiana’s rage clouded her keen intellect. All she could think was, I must get rid of this . . . thing! But before she could act, a steel door slammed down between her and the Hunter. She glanced around with birdlike quickness. The room was not Akela’s bedroom, but, in fact, a cleverly disguised steel cage.

She was trapped! The villagers cheered as the Hunter hauled away the cage. His platoon of slavelike helpers pulled the wheeled prison away from the villagers and into the jungle. The helpers were as strangely shrouded as the Hunter who commanded them was, and seemed excited by the capture. The children wept, begging their parents to let Toothiana go free. But they would not. The Mysterious Hunter had promised them riches beyond their dreams when he sold Toothiana.

Toothiana flung herself wildly against the cage, like a cornered eagle. But it did no good. The Hunter and his minions traveled swiftly through the night, deeper into the jungle. They knew the creatures of the wild would try to help Toothiana, so they carried the one weapon every animal fears: fire.

Torches were lashed to the roof of Toothiana’s cage. The Mysterious Hunter himself carried the brightest torch of all. The animals kept their distance, but they continued to follow the eerie caravan and keep watch over Toothiana, waiting for a chance to strike.

After days of travel they arrived at the base of the steep mountain of Toothiana’s birthplace—the kingdom of Punjam Hy Loo. The great elephants that guarded the mountain were standing at the ready, shifting back and forth on their massive feet. Toothiana’s jungle friends had warned them that the Mysterious Hunter was headed their way.

The Hunter did not challenge the elephants. He ordered his minions to halt and made no move to attack. Instead, he held his flaming torch aloft. ‘I bring a treasure to the Sisters of Flight and the flying elephant king who dwell in Punjam Hy Loo!’ he shouted into the night sky. The sky was empty; there was no sign of either the winged women who ruled there, or of the flying elephant.

The Hunter called out again. ‘I bring you the half-breed daughter of Haroom and Rashmi.’ At this, an otherworldly sound—like a rustle of trees in the wind—was heard. And indeed wind did begin to blow down from the mountain. It grew stronger and more furious, with gusts that nearly put out the torches.

Toothiana knew instinctually that this wind was sent by the Sisters of Flight and that they did not trust the Hunter. She also knew that it was time to take out the box her parents had left her.

As the winds continued to rise, the Hunter grew increasingly nervous, as did his minions. They began to chatter in the oddest way, not in words, but in sounds.

Then a chorus of voices, all speaking in unison, rang out bright and clear above the howl of the wind: ‘Tell us, Hunter, why cage our child? Where be her father and mother? What trick of men do you bring us? What do you seek, you who seem of men and yet are not?’

The Hunter rocked on his feet, seething with undisguised hate. He held his torch high and stepped forward, leaning into the wind. The elephants raised their trunks but took a step back. Fire was a fearsome thing, even for these mighty beasts.

The Hunter laughed, then threw down his tattered cloak. He was no man at all, but a massive monkey. ‘A maharaja of men I once was,’ he screamed, ‘and by your doing, I am now a king of the monkeys!’ Then his troops dropped their cloaks as well. An array of monkeys revealed themselves, all armed with bows and arrows.

The Monkey King shrieked above the roaring wind, ‘You ask about her parents? Dead! By my doing! What do I seek? Revenge! On all who made me thus!’ Then he threw his torch into the herd of elephants and grabbed a bow and arrow from one of his men. He had it drawn in an instant, aimed directly at Toothiana’s heart.

Before he could let loose the arrow, the wind tripled in strength. Toothiana knew what to do. She held the ruby box tightly in her hand. ‘Mother, Father, help me,’ she whispered furiously, clenching her eyes shut. She pictured them clearly in her mind, letting herself feel the bond they had shared so deeply, letting herself remember how much they had sacrificed for her.

Suddenly, she was no longer in the cage. She was no longer a single entity, but several smaller versions of herself.

Bow drawn, the Monkey King hesitated, bewildered. How can this be? He could not remember the power of love—even though it had been this girl’s father who had loved him best—and his own memories were now fueled only by hate.

So the world turned against him once again.

The Sisters of Flight circled overhead. It was the flapping of their wings that made the great wind. It grew wilder and stranger, like a tornado. Leaves snapped off trees. Dirt swirled like a storm, and the Monkey King’s torch blew out.

Now the only light came from the Moon, and no jungle creature fears that guiding light. In an instant the elephants stampeded forward. Toothiana’s animal friends attacked. Toothiana’s mini-selves charged the Monkey King. The monkey army screamed and ran.

The king tried to grab the Toothianas, but he could not catch them. Then all the fairy-sized selves merged back into a single being. Toothiana was mystified by her new power, but she didn’t think on it. With one hand, she grabbed the Monkey King by the throat. It was as if she now had the strength of a dozen. The Monkey King cried out in terror and pain.

For an instant Toothiana felt the rage within her swell. She would snap his neck and be done with him. But the little box glowed in one hand, and the memory of her parents made her stop. She would not end this monkey man’s life. Let the jungle choose his fate.

So she let him go.

He fell to the ground, and she did not look back as she flew up to join the Sisters of Flight.

As they sped away, Toothiana and her kindred could hear the creatures of the jungle do as they saw fit with the fallen Monkey King. And his cries could be heard all the way to the Moon.

Mr. Qwerty then shut his pages. The tale, as it was written, was done.

[nonobadcat]

YANDERE ALL FOR ONE X FEMALE READER

Rating: Explicit - for readers 18+ only

Entire Story TW: Rape/Noncon/DubCon, gore (non-reader directed), All For One too many kinks to count them all. Highly mentally and sexually abusive relationship. This story is absolutely not for minors and readers should consult the warnings/tags at the top before reading.

This chapter’s TW: Non-con, breeding kink

Read the entire story at: Archive of Our Own

Chapter 40 Excerpt:

From the balcony of your bedroom, you looked out into the palace gardens below. It was early summer and the red poppies you loved were in full bloom. Your mother-in-law, the dowager queen, had hated them. She said they were too showy when in bloom, too short-lived to be pretty and that they left behind unsightly leaf litter when they died. She always preferred her maiden  lilies. They were a subtle pink which exemplified the refined beauty a proper princess must possess. In your opinion, they were too refined, much like her.

Despite your captive circumstances, as a tank mowed down the old biddy's favorite flowers, it did bring a small, vindictive smile to your face.

“Oh dear,” you murmured, pressing your palm to the side of your cheek. “I’m sure she would have had a lot to say about that.”  You whined in a nasally voice: “A coup-d'etat? How garish. I never should have let my son marry such a woman! This wouldn’t have happened if he married the Lithenian princess! You and your mountain blood bring such dishonor to our lines!”

You leaned on the railing of your balcony, watching as a commander pointed vigorously at the forest at the back of the castle grounds. Your cold smile fell into a deep, concerned frown. Your voice was soft. It was a tone you could never let anyone at the palace hear.  “I hope the gardener got away. He was such a nice old man.” You paused and looked over your shoulder at the perfectly organized room. "And that young attendant with the cough. Poor thing probably can't run can he?"

Behind you, there was the heavy metallic drag of a bolt and the creaking of under oiled hinges. You turned slowly. Your hands never leaving the balcony rail. In an instant, the mask you’d crafted over your years of etiquette training was back. Hard eyes gave a judging glare to the man in black as he entered your private chambers. He flashed you an amused sneer; his crimson eyes flashing bright in the afternoon sun. There was a loud click as he locked the deadbolt behind him.

You clasped your hands at your waist to keep them from shaking. “Welcome back General Oni,” you stated in your most formal tone. “Have you murdered enough of my innocent staff to satisfy your blood lust yet or will you be going out for a third helping?”

The general’s smile only seemed to widen, splitting his face like the demon he now claimed to be. He strolled around your bed, his black cape billowing behind him. The fluttering reminded you of a bat’s wings passing your ear in the night. It raised your hackles. As he moved from the shadows of the indoors into the light of the day, you half expected him to melt. It was disappointing when he didn’t even flinch.

“I see you’ve sharpened your tongue since I left,” he replied, taking one step too close to you for comfort.

You gritted your teeth, and refused to take a step back. Even in heels, you couldn’t match his ridiculous height. Towering over you only seemed to make him more cheerful. Somehow, the way he looked at you reminded you of a man looking at a barking puppy. It made you want to bite him again.

You nodded to the skull mask which rested atop his head. “I see you’ve deepened your delusions of grandeur since you left.”

If his smile stretched any wider it was going to tear his ears open. “They aren’t delusions if they are real.”

Read the rest at: Archive of Our Own

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[ariel-seagull-wings]

TOP 12 SNOW WHITE PORTRAYALS

@princesssarisa​ @superkingofpriderock​ @sunlit-music​ @mademoiselle-princesse​ @amalthea9​ @theancientvaleofsoulmaking​ @astrangechoiceoffavourites​ 

Lips red as blood. Skin white as snow. Hair black as ebony. The fairest woman of all.

Snow White is one of the most iconic fairy tale characters ever created. And also  one of the hardest to portray. This happens because, the story is less about her as a person, and more about following her exploration of the world and how this world reacts to her. The tale calls her a princess, but really she is more meant to be a common everygirl for a variety of readers and audiences to see themselves in. So the greatest challenge to portray the character becomes how to make at the same time universally relatable, and an individual character, and today, i’d like to share my favorite portrayals, that camed closer in acomplishing this goal.

12º Laura Berlin in Sechs Auf Einen Streich (2009)

Berlin’s Snow White acts as an outgoing, playfull young lady who deep down is trying to deal with the longing for her dead mother. And then, her father marries a new, vain and cruel woman, and sayed woman orders that the portrait of the previous queen be trown out, wich obviously makes the princess verbally snap against her father weak-willed and her tyranical stepmother. And then her father has a stroke and her stepmother orders her death. Here is a young lady in an emotinal turmoil and distress, wich makes her very relatable to audiences.

11º Nicola Stapleton and Sarah Paterson in Canon Movie Tales: Snow White (1987)

One of the first times that we see the fair princess explicitly growing up from child to young adult. Nicola Stapleton is probably more charismatic as child! Snow White, having more time on scene where she gets to sing with her father, explore the room where her stepmother keeps the magic mirror, until finally having to run trough the woods and meeting the dwarfs, but Sarah Paterson also makes adult! Snow White likable, singing about her desire to someday leave the dwarfs house because she is growing and may need her own space, and showing the doubt between fear and curiosity in her interactions with her disguised stepmother. This highlights more the themes of coming of age and confronting ones fears from the tale.

10º Yuri Amano/Donatella Fanfani/Eileen Stevens in The Legend of Snow White (1994)

In this italian-japanese coproduced anime, the twelve year old Snow White is an inquisitive, merry and kind girl, that has to adapt to a more scary reality when she has to run away from the castle to not be killed. At the dwarfs house, where she is so hungry and tired she takes all bread from a basket and sleeps for hours, she decides to give her hazelnuts and try to do shores to compensate for entering the house and eating the bread. Unfortunally, being a princess who lived in comfort all her life, she fails hard when she tries to do domestic shores, burning bread and cutting lettuce that she tought were garden plagues. But she is so sweet and kind, that it doesn’t matter. Conquering the affection of people for who she is, and not for what she can do in exchange, is the greatest strenght of this encarnation.

09º Elizabeth McGovern in Faerie Tale Theatre (1984)

A lonely girl who just wants some atention and love. Those are the characteristics that McGovern’s Snow White extablishes for herself in her first appearance, trying to impress her stepmother with juggling tricks learned with the Court Jester. Later, in the forest, when she is about to be stabbed, she prays to God for the soul of the Huntsman who is about to kill her, and to her surprise this act of kindness is what changes the Huntsman’s heart and convinces him to spare her life. In the woods she finds the dwarfs cottage, and can finally have friends to talk about things like her nostalgia for swiming in the castle moat/pit. She won’t feel alone again. 

08º Kristin Kreuk in Snow White: The Fairest of them All (2001)

In this Hallmark TV Movie, Kreuk gives a 16 year old Snow White who searches friendship in garden gnomes. In a way, she expands the theme of loneliness explored by McGovern, and goes deeper about it, relating sayed loneliness with beauty: she is an awkward and melancholic person, who feels that people only care with her pretty appearance, but don’t actually come close to truly meet her as a person. In a lesser hand, this idea of a person who thinks being considered beautifull is hard could sound absurd and over dramatic, but the screenwriters and Kreuk’s sincere performance make it a compelling dilema.

07º Natalie Minko in Schneewitchen (1992)

An energetic fifteen year old, who likes to run around to play with the Court Jester, and mess up the kitchen while doing pancakes that glue in the ceiling. Minko’s Snow White is one of the few Snow White’s who is allowed to act as a normal teenager: she makes messes, she sometimes verbally fights with people, she constantly questions the adults around her, all the wille still being a genuinelly kind hearted person pursuing the path of truth.

06º Tamara Rojo in Emilio Aragon’s Blancanieves (2005)

I loved watching the DVD of this ballet production over and over as a kid. Trough dance movements, Tamara Rojo gives us a gracious and fun princess. Whetever she goes, a party will always start.

05º Adriana Caselotti in Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)

My first portrayal of Snow White. The Disney version was raised working as a palace scullery maid, wich her stepmother hoped would make her ugly. But that didn’t work. She grows beautifull in body and soul: her singing voice is so sweet it is enough to make a dashing Prince fall in love with her, the animals are always engaged by her joyfull and sassy conversations, and she has a firm way of talking that assures a position of leadership among both the animals and the dwarfs who later befriend her. Really, she is awesome. What can i say about her that hasn’t been sayed already?

04º Marguerite Clark in Snow White (1916)

The version that inspired Walt Disney to make his version. Based on a 1912 stage play, this is the version that extablished being raised as a palace scullery maid as the reason Snow White is good with domestic tasks despite being a rich princess. Clark’s Snow White is also compassionate, sweet, romantic and dreamy, and she mix those qualities with some energy and spunkiness, being an almost wild girl.

03º Carol Heiss in Snow White and The Three Stooges (1961)

The sass, spunkiness and sweet romanticism are back, but with a new adition: an athletic hobby. Carol Heiss was originally a golden medal winner olimpic ice skater, and this movie was made to capitalize in her popularity at the time (along with reviving the Three Stooges popularity). So, we extablish in this version that the heroine who is linked to the snow loves the winter, and one of the most popular sports in this season. No other version before or after that did this, even tough its the most obvious and most awesome thing to do with the character. Ad to that the (uncredited) singing voice dubbed by Norma Zimmer, and you have one of the most complete portrayals of Snow White: she is beauty, she is grace, she can sing, she can cook and she can ice skate. She is the most interesting woman that ever lived.

02º Sakiko Tamagawa/Julie Maddalena in Grimm’s Fairy Tale Classics (1989)

Orphaned from her mother at birth and having a father who is always too busy rulling the kingdom to pay attention to her, this version of Snow White grows up raised by a nurse named Doris, and playing on the garden with a young boy named Klaus. Her favorite pass time is to climb trees to pick apples, her favorite fruit. But one day her stepmother, who for years has been ignoring her, calls the princess to her chamber, and asks if she thinks herself to be most beautifull than the Queen. Annoyed with the absurd of the question, Snow White calls her stepmother out in her vanity. What follows is her running away, having to survive as a fugitive. Getting lost from her Klaus and stumbling in a root, she crawls for her life, until being saved by the seven dwarfs and their wolf friends. Time passes, and she finds a bit of fullfilment while slowly learning to do domestic chores to help the dwarfs, and finding friendship in the wolfs and a giant black bear. But she still craves to reunite with her friend Klaus and to find some love, while the Queen’s menace lures in the air.

And now the moment everyone was expecting... My number one favorite portrayal of Snow White is:

01º Camryn Manhein in The 10th Kingdom (2000)

I know what are you thinking: “Wait, a two episode cameo in a tv minisseries, instead of a protagonist, this is your favorite”? Yes. Yes, she is. In the Hallmark minisseries The 10th Kingdom, a young lady from the real world comes to the magical world to help to disenchant a Prince that has been turned into a dog. This dog prince is Snow White’s grandson. And then the heroes arrive at the Dragon Mountain in the 09th Kingdom, and Virginia has a conversation with the spirit of the late Snow White for counsel. And Snow White counsels Virginia by simply telling her story of once being an afrayed, lonely lost girl in the woods, finding new friends in the dwarfs, suffering three murder attempts from her stepmother, being aesleep for years with the poisoned apple in her troat, until the Prince’s servants stumbled with her casket so she could trow away the apple piece, so she could finally live happily ever after. While she narrates the tale, she says that she knew the danger presented by the ribbons, the comb and the apple, but she also knew that she could hide in the dwarfs cottage, afrayed to be hurt, forever. And her husband was a good man, but she saved herself from death. With that dialogue, Manheim’s sensitive and wise Snow White ressignified the fairy tale for me, making me appreciate better the story and her character. And that is why she my number one portrayal of the fairest princess of all.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: Elke Arendt in Schneewitchen (1955), Maresa Hörbiger in Schneewitchen (1971) and Elaine Bilstad as White Snow in Happily Ever After: Fairy Tales for Every Child (1995).

[capituloperdido1]

ACOSAS

Hello everyone! As always please let me know if you have any feedback or want to be added to the taglist.

Enjoy!

Warnings: Mention of SA and anxiety.

Chapter 2

The day had arrived.

She was leaving to the day court today, she was finally leaving the safety of the library.

Gwyn had begun to prepare as soon as dinner had been over, she had talked to Clotho and Merril; the latter had reluctantly accepted and had sent her with even more research prompts to look over during her stay in the Day Court. Cassian had given her a full month schedule of training, and had ensured that she packed the Valkyrae uniform as well as her favorite dagger.  Nesta and Emerie had given her a list of souvenirs to bring back; which included an autographed book of one her their favorite smut writer, who happened to be a member of the Day Court.

Everyone seemed ready for her to leave.

Everyone but her.

As much as it excited her, the terror in her bones had not let her enjoy the idea of the outside world.

As she took the last of her bags up to the house, she began to lose herself into her thoughts; who really ensured her that everything would be okay?

Last time she had been in the outside world she had been kidnapped and forced to a crazy Illyrian trial.

The time before that, well... it was better not to remember.

She was not ready to see other people, specially not men.

She looked up and notice that she was in the middle of the stairs leading to the house, with her hand in her chest and bag thrown in the floor.

Was she ready?

She wanted to be.

What was that she had promised her sisters?

Never again.

Never Again.

It was time to see the world.

-.-.-.-.-.

Azriel had been looking at Nesta for an hour, his sister in law had been going on the different things he needed to remember in order to keep Gwyn safe.

-And remember, she told me she was allergic to some types of flowers; and since i don't remember which ones they are it is just better if you just don't let her near flowers- Nesta said.

-Flowers... Nesta what are you saying?- Cassian said, -Gwyn is not a child you are leaving for Azriel to babysit, she is your friend-

He smiled, he knew Nesta a was protective over Gwyn; he understood it himself, even if he never showed it. He also understood the courage and bravery from the priestess to leave the library. He would ensure that nothing would happen to her, he would protect her and help her; even if that meant she could not see any flowers.

His shadows had been singing with excitement since Gwyn had accepted the offer, he had to admit he was excited as well. It was the first mission he had ever done that did not require murder at the end of it, he was protecting someone precious to the court, his family and even if he would not admit it, himself.

This would also be a time for him to think over his actions of the past few months, being away from the one Archeron sister he had tried to avoid.

He had been selfish, he knew that.

Before he could think more about the subject, the light voice of the priestess interrupted his thoughts -Nesta, i am not allergic to flowers- she said.

Azriel smiled instantly, she really knew how to make everyone feel better just by talking.

-I'm ready- she said approaching him.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Rhys had arranged to winnow them to the border of the Night Court and the Day Court, where Helion would be expecting them to take them to his palace. According to Rhys, it had been Helion's idea to show Gwyn the beauty of the day court. Rhys had warned the priestess to be careful of the weather; the day court had the hardest summers, second only to the summer court. But according to Rhys, the cold of the Autumn arrived faster and stronger than in other courts.

Rhysand was right.

The border of the night court and the day court was cold in that afternoon, made even colder because of their surroundings. The forest that separated both courts was now attacked by heavy rushes of wind. It made Gwyn overwhelmed, as if the mother had chosen the coldest weather to make her body colder than it already was. She felt chills running through her body at the sight of the trees; it reminded her of the Blood Rite.

Vile had risen to her throat.

She was trying so hard to control it, her nerves and her thoughts. But taking this step had been harder than she would admit, specially because being surrounded by trees did not allow her to see the sun; it also did not seem to have an exit.

The sound galloping coming near them startled her, and the sight of 3 gold carriages with the most majestic white stallions waited came into view. Stopping barely feet away from them, the carriage doors opened; out of them stepped a beautiful man wearing a gold crown on top of his long black hair. His white robe showed off the beauty of his brown skin, and his smile made his face even more beautiful.

-Gwyn, this is Helion, High Lord of the Day Court- Rhysand mentioned.

Instantly, Gwyn bowed in front of the man; nervousness and fear creeping upon her.

-It is a pleasure to meet you Valkyrae, we have heard wonders about you- Helion said, his voice smooth and soft. -Thank you for coming to my court, i am hoping your stay will be enjoyable and you'll get to see real beauty; the night court has nothing on us-.

She smiled shyly, unsure of sharing her voice with the male.

A tingly feeling on her hand distracted her, she looked over her hand to find a shadow circling her hand as if trying to calming her. She breathed, the shadow giving her a sense of security.

Thank you Azriel.

-Thank you for having me, my lord-she said

Helion smiled broadly, -you heard that Rhys? She is respectful, unlike you and your friends -.

The two lords embraced each other and continued talking.

Gwyn did not listen.

She looked over to the shadowsinger, who seemed oblivious of the shadow on her hand. Maybe it had escaped from his side; maybe he had not sent it.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Helion had given her and Azriel their own carriage, he had made it a point to give her as much space as possible. She was deeply grateful for that.

He had explained that his palace was upon a mountain, surrounded by the main city; he had called it Lux, the city of light.

-Have you even been in the Day Court?- she asked Azriel.

-Yes, but it has been a while- he answered.

The sight of the end of the forest welcomed her, and as Gwyn peered out the carriage window she was graced with the most beautiful green fields. Grass and flowers of every color decorated the mountains, the smell of clear air filled her nose; the day court was beautiful.

The small village homes with farm animals became more frequent as they travel up the mountains, and as the city became clear, she found that the houses of the city circled the palace sitting at the top of the mountain.

The palace was clear, shining and reflecting the last of the sunshine; it was decorated with gold and silver, sculptures of every mythical animal at the top of every tower.

Beyond the palace, the sea was the perfect companion of the city; the sun reflected in the water transforming the transparent liquid into golden waters.

-I... this is beautiful- she said, tears threatening to come.

-it really is- Azriel responded.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The initial annoyance of having to spend time with Helion was erased at the sight of Gwyn enjoying the view of the Day Court, it was worth it, if it made her smile as she did right now.

He had to admit, the sight was beautiful. The landscape of the Day Court was always one of his favorites. Even if the palace was rather flashy and not very secure.

-We should take a walk on the beach one day- he said to her.

She smiled even brighter -that sounds like a plan shadowsinger-.

Once they arrived, Helion organized a staff of females to guide Gwyn into the palace. Hesitant to leave Gwyn by herself, he sent a shadow to follow her. His shadows obey his every command, even the unconscious ones; he had felt Gwyn's distress when they winnowed into the Night Courts Border, and his mind had told him to do anything to calm her down. It wasn't until he felt her staring at him that he noticed how a shadow circled her hand in comfort.

It surprised him, again.

But he was glad that the dark power he possessed could be used for something good at last.

Helion approached him smiling, -I hope your stay will be enjoyable, i have accommodated your old room. I hope you don't mind-. Azriel felt heat rising to his cheeks, Helion knew how to make things awkward.

-Thank you, my lord- he responded.

He laughed, grabbing his shoulders -let's go, i'll invite you to a drink-.

The palace had not changed much since Azriel had been there, the same extravagant gold decorations shined in every corner of the building. Helion had changed the colors of the furniture into creams and whites, accentuating the light and life that the glass windows provided.

-I was surprised when Rhysand told me it was you who was coming, i thought he would sent Cassian- Helion started, -it seems as if your high lord was adamant to keep you away from Velaris, i wonder why that is-.

Azriel followed the male into the only room that had stone walls. Helion's study had dark wooden shelves in the left side of the room, with a golden map of Prythian as the center table and wooden chairs surrounding it. This was the only place of the castle the high lord never changed, the place where only his trusted people entered.

-I am sure he had his reasons- Azriel responded.

-Rhysand is worried about you- Helion started

Right to business then.

-I am unsure of what you mean- Azriel responded.

Helion scuffed, -Azriel, drop the formalities. It is me who you are talking to. I have known you for longer than most of your friends, i know you - Grabbing a set of cups, the high lord served him what smelled like whiskey.

They sat across each other, the high lord had taken his crown off and was looking at him with deep seriousness. -Rhysand has commented about your fixation with a certain female of his court, someone who according to him you can't love-.

Well then, why was Rhysand sharing that with Helion?

He was going to kill his High Lord.

-How does this involve you?- Azriel said, adding bite into his tone.

-Because i have been in your shoes, shadowsinger- the male said. -I have had many partners in my life, but no one will fill my heart as she did-.

He knew who Helion was talking about.

-But you don't see her in my arms, do you?- Helion continued, -That is because she made a choice, one that i was not okay with; but she choose him over seeing us both being killed-

A silent moment passed, Azriel daring to look at the powerful man in front of him.

-Beron is not her mate, i am. And there is a reason why i am not besides her, even though we have loved each other for centuries- Helion explained - He became obsessed  with the idea of owning her, and was blinded by how much he thought he deserved her. She chose to reject our mating bond, and to stay by his side forever.-

-I do not resent her, rather i love her even more for her bravery. I have spent every living moment praying the mother to give me her courage, courage to challenge Beron and save her. But i am unable to- dropping his head, Helion's voice dropped as he talked -Azriel, i am not here to tell you who to love; i am here to tell you that the choice is not yours, or the fox boys. The choice is Elain's-.

Azriel knew that, he knew Elain was not a price to be fought over.

-I am also here to tell you that this trip is not only to find the fourth trove, but also to find yourself- Helion continued, -You will not do any spy work, no torture or military work. You will simply assist and protect the priestess warrior as much as she needs you. Take this as a chance to think about the decisions you have made over the last centuries, it will be the first time you're away from your family for so long. -

-Did Rhysand say that?- he responded.

-No. This is me talking as a friend - Helion answered, -If you find that at the end of this you actually love her, then go for it. But if you find that there might be another reason over your fixation of her, maybe it is time to let your idea of love go. Maybe it is time to relearn what you think being with someone is-.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Gwyn loved her room, the white furniture and rose gold accentuation made her feel peaceful and happy. A canopy bed at the end of the room with curtains of flowers seemed like the most comfortable and cozy thing she seen. There was a small study and pair of shelves on one side; the changing room and bathroom connected with one another, forming practically a hallway on the side of the room.

This was the fanciest thing she ever experienced.

Dropping the last of her bags Gwyn decided to take a bath before going to bed, the females who had helped her get in her room had told her that supper would be in the individual rooms for today; giving them time to rest to begin working tomorrow.

Once she had bathed, changed and ate; she sat on the fancy bed, immediately feeling the softness of the mattress. Laying down, Gwyn prayed that the bed would allow her to have better dreams; maybe she would finally be able to sleep without being awaken by nightmares, maybe all she needed was a comfortable mattress.

Screams of children sounded loud in her ears, Gwyn awoke in the hard bed from the temple of Sangravah.

Where was her sister?

She stood, looking for her sibling as her ears adjusted to the sounds of screams. Someone was here, someone was hurting the girls at the temple.

-Gwyn- Catrin said, -we need to keep them safe-.

Her sister came towards her with almost a dozen children trailing behind her. -What is happening?- Gwyn muttered

-They are here, Hybern is here. You need to get out of here, take the kids to the lake exit. I will stall them- Her sister gave her a small hand to hold on to. Unable to say anything Gwyn saw her sister go into the source of the screams.

Don't go, she wanted to say, you'll die.

Let me go, you deserve to be alive. Not me.

The high pitch of her sister's scream ringed in her ears, Gwyn could do nothing as she heard her sisters voice begging for the males not to touch her. She heard the laughter of the men as they took turns on her, she felt the cries of other priestesses as they all suffered the same fate.

And Gwyn did nothing,

Gwyn stood in place, paralyzed by fear.

Letting everyone around her die, at the hands of Hybern.

Startled, sweaty and with tears filling her eyes, Gwyn awoke from her nightmare.

She did not know where she was.

Panicking, she ran outside of the door. She needed to escape, needed to get back to the library; she was not in Velaris.

As she opened the door frantically, the door in front of her was opened with a thud.

She stood still, shaking and unable to say anything.

A male figure came out of the door rushing towards her; she flinched.

-Gwyn... Gwyn it's me- the male voice said.

She knew the voice, she knew the male talking to her.

Her vision became clearer, as she took a pair of honey eyes looking worried at her. She took in the golden brown skin, the short trimmed hair. She scented night-chilled mist and cedar.

Recognizing the male, she let her vulnerability show.

Gwyn dropped to her knees, letting the weight of the dream settle upon her.

She was safe, she was in the day court.

She was not alone.

She was with Azriel.

TAGLIST:

@imsointobooks , @gwynkyrie

[nellygwyn]

BOOK RECS

Okay, so lots of people wanted this and so, I am compiling a list of my favourite books (both fiction and non-fiction), books that I recommend you read as soon as humanly possible. In the meantime, I’ll be pinning this post to the top of my blog (once I work out how to do that lmao) so it will be accessible for old and new followers. I’m going to order this list thematically, I think, just to keep everything tidy and orderly. Of course, a lot of this list will consist of historical fiction and historical non-fiction because that’s what I read primarily and thus, that’s where my bias is, but I promise to try and spice it up just a little bit. 

Favourite fiction books of all time:

The Mermaid and Mrs Hancock // Imogen Hermes Gowar

Sense and Sensibility // Jane Austen

Slammerkin // Emma Donoghue 

Remarkable Creatures // Tracy Chevalier

Life Mask // Emma Donoghue

His Dark Materials // Philip Pullman (this includes the follow-up series The Book of Dust)

Emma // Jane Austen

The Miniaturist // Jessie Burton

Girl, Woman, Other // Bernadine Evaristo 

Jane Eyre // Charlotte Brontë

Persuasion // Jane Austen

Girl with a Pearl Earring // Tracy Chevalier

The Silent Companions // Laura Purcell

Tess of the d’Urbervilles // Thomas Hardy

Northanger Abbey // Jane Austen

The Chronicles of Narnia // C.S. Lewis

Pride and Prejudice // Jane Austen

Goodnight, Mr Tom // Michelle Magorian

The French Lieutenant’s Woman // John Fowles 

The Butcher’s Hook // Janet Ellis 

Mansfield Park // Jane Austen

The All Souls Trilogy // Deborah Harkness

The Railway Children // Edith Nesbit

Favourite non-fiction books of all time

Catherine the Great: Portrait of a Woman // Robert Massie

Love and Louis XIV: The Women in the Life of the Sun King // Antonia Fraser

Madame de Pompadour // Nancy Mitford

The First Iron Lady: A Life of Caroline of Ansbach // Matthew Dennison 

Black and British: A Forgotten History // David Olusoga

Courtiers: The Secret History of the Georgian Court // Lucy Worsley 

Young and Damned and Fair: The Life of Katherine Howard, the Fifth Wife of Henry VIII // Gareth Russell

King Charles II // Antonia Fraser

Casanova’s Women // Judith Summers

Marie Antoinette: The Journey // Antonia Fraser

Mrs. Jordan’s Profession: The Story of a Great Actress and a Future King // Claire Tomalin

Jane Austen at Home // Lucy Worsley

Mudlarking: Lost and Found on the River Thames // Lara Maiklem

The Last Royal Rebel: The Life and Death of James, Duke of Monmouth // Anna Keay

The Marlboroughs: John and Sarah Churchill // Christopher Hibbert

Nell Gwynn: A Biography // Charles Beauclerk

Jurassic Mary: Mary Anning and the Primeval Monsters // Patricia Pierce

Georgian London: Into the Streets // Lucy Inglis

The Prince Who Would Be King: The Life and Death of Henry Stuart // Sarah Fraser

Wedlock: How Georgian Britain’s Worst Husband Met His Match // Wendy Moore

Dead Famous: An Unexpected History of Celebrity from the Stone Age to the Silver Screen // Greg Jenner

Victorians Undone: Tales of the Flesh in the Age of Decorum // Kathryn Hughes

Crown of Blood: The Deadly Inheritance of Lady Jane Grey // Nicola Tallis

Favourite books about the history of sex and/or sex work

The Origins of Sex: A History of First Sexual Revolution // Faramerz Dabhoiwala 

Erotic Exchanges: The World of Elite Prostitution in Eighteenth-Century Paris // Nina Kushner

Peg Plunkett: Memoirs of a Whore // Julie Peakman

Courtesans // Katie Hickman

The Other Victorians: A Study of Sexuality and Pornography in mid-Nineteenth Century England

Madams, Bawds, and Brothel Keepers // Fergus Linnane

The Secret History of Georgian London: How the Wages of Sin Shaped the Capital // Dan Cruickshank 

A Curious History of Sex // Kate Lister

Sex and Punishment: 4000 Years of Judging Desire // Eric Berkowitz

Queen of the Courtesans: Fanny Murray // Barbara White

Rent Boys: A History from Ancient Times to Present // Michael Hone

Celeste // Roland Perry

Sex and the Gender Revolution // Randolph Trumbach

The Pleasure’s All Mine: A History of Perverse Sex // Julie Peakman

LGBT+ fiction I love*

The Confessions of the Fox // Jordy Rosenberg 

As Meat Loves Salt // Maria Mccann

Bone China // Laura Purcell

Brideshead Revisited // Evelyn Waugh

The Confessions of Frannie Langton // Sara Collins

The Intoxicating Mr Lavelle // Neil Blackmore

Orlando // Virginia Woolf

Tipping the Velvet // Sarah Waters

She Rises // Kate Worsley

The Mercies // Kiran Millwood Hargrave

Oranges are Not the Only Fruit // Jeanette Winterson

Maurice // E.M Forster

Frankisstein: A Love Story // Jeanette Winterson

If I Was Your Girl // Meredith Russo 

The Well of Loneliness // Radclyffe Hall 

* fyi, Life Mask and Girl, Woman, Other are also LGBT+ fiction

Classics I haven’t already mentioned (including children’s classics)

Far From the Madding Crowd // Thomas Hardy 

I Capture the Castle // Dodie Smith 

Vanity Fair // William Makepeace Thackeray 

Wuthering Heights // Emily Brontë

The Blazing World // Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of Newcastle

Murder on the Orient Express // Agatha Christie 

Great Expectations // Charles Dickens

North and South // Elizabeth Gaskell

Evelina // Frances Burney

Death on the Nile // Agatha Christie

The Monk // Matthew Lewis

Frankenstein // Mary Shelley

Vilette // Charlotte Brontë

The Mayor of Casterbridge // Thomas Hardy

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall // Anne Brontë

Vile Bodies // Evelyn Waugh

Beloved // Toni Morrison 

The Murder of Roger Ackroyd // Agatha Christie

The History of Tom Jones, A Foundling // Henry Fielding

A Room With a View // E.M. Forster

Silas Marner // George Eliot 

Jude the Obscure // Thomas Hardy

My Man Jeeves // P.G. Wodehouse

Lady Audley’s Secret // Mary Elizabeth Braddon

Middlemarch // George Eliot

Little Women // Louisa May Alcott

Children of the New Forest // Frederick Marryat

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings // Maya Angelou 

Rebecca // Daphne du Maurier

Alice in Wonderland // Lewis Carroll

The Wind in the Willows // Kenneth Grahame

Anna Karenina // Leo Tolstoy

Howard’s End // E.M. Forster

The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13 3/4 // Sue Townsend

Even more fiction recommendations

The Darling Strumpet // Gillian Bagwell

The Wolf Hall trilogy // Hilary Mantel

The Illumination of Ursula Flight // Anne-Marie Crowhurst

Queenie // Candace Carty-Williams

Forever Amber // Kathleen Winsor

The Corset // Laura Purcell

Love in Colour // Bolu Babalola

Artemisia // Alexandra Lapierre

Blackberry and Wild Rose // Sonia Velton

The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories // Angela Carter

The Languedoc trilogy // Kate Mosse

Longbourn // Jo Baker

A Skinful of Shadows // Frances Hardinge

The Black Moth // Georgette Heyer

The Far Pavilions // M.M Kaye

The Essex Serpent // Sarah Perry

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo // Taylor Jenkins Reid

Cavalier Queen // Fiona Mountain 

The Winter Palace // Eva Stachniak

Friday’s Child // Georgette Heyer

Falling Angels // Tracy Chevalier

Little // Edward Carey

Chocolat // Joanne Harris 

The Watchmaker of Filigree Street // Natasha Pulley 

My Sister, the Serial Killer // Oyinkan Braithwaite

The Convenient Marriage // Georgette Heyer

Katie Mulholland // Catherine Cookson

Restoration // Rose Tremain

Meat Market // Juno Dawson

Lady on the Coin // Margaret Campbell Bowes

In the Company of the Courtesan // Sarah Dunant

The Crimson Petal and the White // Michel Faber

A Place of Greater Safety // Hilary Mantel 

The Little Shop of Found Things // Paula Brackston

The Improbability of Love // Hannah Rothschild

The Murder Most Unladylike series // Robin Stevens

Dark Angels // Karleen Koen

The Words in My Hand // Guinevere Glasfurd

Time’s Convert // Deborah Harkness

The Collector // John Fowles

Vivaldi’s Virgins // Barbara Quick

The Foundling // Stacey Halls

The Phantom Tree // Nicola Cornick

The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle // Stuart Turton

Golden Hill // Francis Spufford

Assorted non-fiction not yet mentioned

The Dinosaur Hunters: A True Story of Scientific Rivalry and the Discovery of the Prehistoric World // Deborah Cadbury

The Beauty and the Terror: An Alternative History to the Italian Renaissance // Catherine Fletcher

All the King's Women: Love, Sex, and Politics in the life of Charles II // Derek Jackson

Mozart’s Women // Jane Glover

Scandalous Liaisons: Charles II and His Court // R.E. Pritchard

Matilda: Queen, Empress, Warrior // Catherine Hanley 

Black Tudors // Miranda Kaufman 

To Catch a King: Charles II's Great Escape // Charles Spencer

1666: Plague, War and Hellfire // Rebecca Rideal

Henrietta Maria: Charles I's Indomitable Queen // Alison Plowden

Catherine of Braganza: Charles II's Restoration Queen // Sarah-Beth Watkins

Four Sisters: The Lost Lives of the Romanov Grand Duchesses // Helen Rappaport

Aristocrats: Caroline, Emily, Louisa and Sarah Lennox, 1740-1832 // Stella Tillyard 

The Fortunes of Francis Barber: The True Story of the Jamaican Slave who Became Samuel Johnson’s Heir // Michael Bundock

Black London: Life Before Emancipation // Gretchen Gerzina

In These Times: Living in Britain Through Napoleon’s Wars, 1793-1815

The King’s Mistress: Scandal, Intrigue and the True Story of the Woman who Stole the Heart of George I // Claudia Gold

Perdita: The Life of Mary Robinson // Paula Byrne

The Gentleman’s Daughter: Women’s Lives in Georgian England // Amanda Vickery

Terms and Conditions: Life in Girls’ Boarding School, 1939-1979 // Ysenda Maxtone Graham 

Fanny Burney: A Biography // Claire Harman

Aphra Behn: A Secret Life // Janet Todd

The Imperial Harem: Women and the Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire // Leslie Peirce

The Fall of the House of Byron // Emily Brand

The Favourite: Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough // Ophelia Field

Night-Walking: A Nocturnal History of London // Matthew Beaumont, Will Self

Jane Austen: A Life // Claire Tomalin

Beloved Emma: The Life of Emma, Lady Hamilton // Flora Fraser

Sentimental Murder: Love and Madness in the 18th Century // John Brewer

Henrietta Howard: King’s Mistress, Queen’s Servant // Tracy Borman

City of Beasts: How Animals Shaped Georgian London // Tom Almeroth-Williams

Queen Anne: The Politics of Passion // Anne Somerset 

Charlotte Brontë: A Life // Claire Harman 

Goddess: The Secret Lives of Marilyn Monroe // Anthony Summers

Queer City: Gay London from the Romans to the Present Day // Peter Ackroyd 

Elizabeth I and Her Circle // Susan Doran

African Europeans: An Untold History // Olivette Otele 

Young Romantics: The Shelleys, Byron, and Other Tangled Lives // Daisy Hay

How to Create the Perfect Wife // Wendy Moore

The Sphinx: The Life of Gladys Deacon, Duchess of Marlborough // Hugo Vickers

The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn // Eric Ives

Dancing in the Streets: A History of Collective Joy // Barbara Ehrenreich

A is for Arsenic: The Poisons of Agatha Christie // Kathryn Harkup 

Mistresses: Sex and Scandal at the Court of Charles II // Linda Porter

Female Husbands: A Trans History // Jen Manion

Ladies in Waiting: From the Tudors to the Present Day // Anne Somerset

Ghostland: In Search of a Haunted Country // Edward Parnell 

A Cheesemonger’s History of the British Isles // Ned Palmer

The Butchering Art: Joseph Lister’s Quest to Transform the Grisly World of Victorian Medicine // Lindsey Fitzharris

Medieval Woman: Village Life in the Middle Ages // Ann Baer

The Husband Hunters: Social Climbing in London and New York // Anne de Courcy

The Voices of Nîmes: Women, Sex, and Marriage in Reformation Languedoc // Suzannah Lipscomb

The Daughters of the Winter Queen // Nancy Goldstone

Mad and Bad: Real Heroines of the Regency // Bea Koch

Bess of Hardwick // Mary S. Lovell

The Royal Art of Poison // Eleanor Herman 

The Strangest Family: The Private Lives of George III, Queen Charlotte, and the Hanoverians // Janice Hadlow

Palaces of Pleasure: From Music Halls to the Seaside to Football; How the Victorians Invented Mass Entertainment // Lee Jackson

Favourite books about current social/political issues (?? for lack of a better term)

Feminism, Interrupted: Disrupting Power // Lola Olufemi

Revolting Prostitutes: The Fight for Sex Worker Rights // Molly Smith, Juno Mac

Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race // Reni Eddo-Lodge

Trans Britain: Our Journey from the Shadows // Christine Burns

Me, Not You: The Trouble with Mainstream Feminism // Alison Phipps

Trans Like Me: A Journey For All Of Us // C.N Lester

Brit(Ish): On Race, Identity, and Belonging // Afua Hirsch 

The Brutish Museums: The Benin Bronzes, Colonial Violence, and Cultural Restitution // Dan Hicks

Things No One Will Tell Fat Girls: A Handbook for Unapologetic Living // Jes M. Baker

Hood Feminism: Notes from the Women White Feminists Forgot // Mikki Kendall

Denial: Holocaust History on Trial // Deborah Lipstadt

Yes Means Yes: Visions of Female Sexual Power and a World Without Rape // Jessica Valenti, Jaclyn Friedman

Don’t Touch My Hair // Emma Dabiri

Sister Outsider // Audre Lorde 

Unicorn: The Memoir of a Muslim Drag Queen // Amrou Al-Kadhi

Trans Power // Juno Roche

Breathe: A Letter to My Sons // Imani Perry

The Windrush Betrayal: Exposing the Hostile Environment // Amelia Gentleman

Happy Fat: Taking Up Space in a World That Wants to Shrink You // Sofie Hagen

Diaries, memoirs & letters

The Diary of a Young Girl // Anne Frank

Renia’s Diary: A Young Girl’s Life in the Shadow of the Holocaust // Renia Spiegel 

Writing Home // Alan Bennett

The Diary of Samuel Pepys // Samuel Pepys

Histoire de Ma Vie // Giacomo Casanova

Toast: The Story of a Boy’s Hunger // Nigel Slater

London Journal, 1762-1763 // James Boswell

The Diary of a Bookseller // Shaun Blythell 

Jane Austen’s Letters // edited by Deidre la Faye

H is for Hawk // Helen Mcdonald 

The Salt Path // Raynor Winn

The Glitter and the Gold // Consuelo Vanderbilt, Duchess of Marlborough

Journals and Letters // Fanny Burney

Educated // Tara Westover

Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading // Lucy Mangan

Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? // Jeanette Winterson

A Dutiful Boy // Mohsin Zaidi

Secrets and Lies: The Trials of Christine Keeler // Christine Keeler

800 Years of Women’s Letters // edited by Olga Kenyon

Istanbul // Orhan Pamuk

Henry and June // Anaïs Nin

Historical romance (this is a short list because I’m still fairly new to this genre)

The Bridgerton series // Julia Quinn

One Good Earl Deserves a Lover // Sarah Mclean

Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake // Sarah Mclean

The Lady’s Guide to Celestial Mechanics // Olivia Waite

That Could Be Enough // Alyssa Cole

Unveiled // Courtney Milan

The Craft of Love // EE Ottoman

The Maiden Lane series // Elizabeth Hoyt

An Extraordinary Union // Alyssa Cole

Slightly Dangerous // Mary Balogh

Dangerous Alliance: An Austentacious Romance // Jennieke Cohen

A Fashionable Indulgence // KJ Charles

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Footprints in the Sand

Part 5: ...Don’t

Summary/Author's Note: Okay, let's have a little conflict shall we? As you'll read in part 6, this story takes place seven years after King Robert's rebellion/the murder of Elia Martell and ten years BEFORE Oberyn vs the Mountain. That being said, I apologize in advance to Jaime Lannister lovers. I love him as much as the next person but this is prime pre-season 1, zero redeeming qualities, prince douche kingslayer, Jaime. So, I will write him as such. This is gonna hurt. Update: I cut this into two parts because it got away from me.

Pairing: Oberyn x Ellaria x Reader Word Count: 3.3k Rating/Warnings: (R/18+) Almost sex, Language, derogatory terms, mental/physical abuse, inappropriate cousin behavior (lookin’ at you JL), Protective!Oberyn, annnnnnggsssttttt, it’s gonna get worse before it gets better

|Parts| (1)(2)(3)(4) [MASTERLIST]

Waking up had never been one of your favorite things to do. The fact that the birds perched in the tree outside your window insisted on singing to the rising sun was always the thing you liked least about nature. Couldn't they wait to sing until they had a more willing audience? You started to roll over and shove your head under your pillow like you did every morning but you couldn't move. Unwilling to let your racing imagination cause you to panic, you opened your eyes and looked down to find the reason for your paralysis. A strong, tanned arm was flung over your waist, a possessive weight balanced against your bare skin. And then you remembered.

Oberyn breathed deeply against your neck, pausing only when you put your hand over his before he resumed his slumber. The heat of his body against your back was welcome as the crisp morning air fluttered in from the window that none of you had bothered to close. 

In front of you, Ellaria slept peacefully. Her hand was tucked under her cheek as her beautiful dark hair fell around her equally beautiful face and you had to stop yourself from reaching out and touching her. Her other hand rested on top of the silks, against your stomach as if where Oberyn's protective arm ended...hers began.

Was it possible to care about more than one person at the same time? You didn't know. You had never been asked such a question. A week ago you thought you would have known the answer to that question. Now, looking at the two people holding you while they slept, you weren't so sure. 

Oberyn stirred behind you and you felt his lips lightly brush the back of your neck. He pressed his prominent nose against your hair and inhaled deeply. His voice was low and soft, full of content and sleep as he said, "She is beautiful, no?"

You knew he was talking about Ellaria and nodded. "She really is."

"The two of you make a good pair," he said, moving his hand from your waist to push your hair away from your neck so he could nose your pulse point. 

"I don't know about that." 

"I do," he continued. 

"She's so much more than I am."

"It would hurt her to hear you say that." You felt him stiffen behind you before giving you a squeeze and saying, "She is cunning and wild. Yet nurturing and maternal. You are brave and kind. Intelligent yet understanding. Both of you possess a gentle heart." He laced his fingers with yours whispering against the shell of your ear. "Together you make the perfect woman."

You looked over your shoulder at him in disbelief. "Are you always this charming?" You joked, taking the focus off yourself. His words weighed heavy on your soul. He couldn't possibly know you well enough to say such beautiful things, but you wanted to believe that he did. 

"I would like to say yes, but Ellaria would tell you otherwise." He grinned. "I've been known to have a temper."

"I don't believe that," you said, looking into his dark brown eyes.

"You just haven't seen it yet," he raised his eyebrows a few times and you suppressed a laugh against his chest. Ellaria groaned in protest and rolled over, shoving her face into the pillow. When her breathing resumed it's pattern for sleep, Oberyn continued. "So, you're still not coming to Dorne?"

The question made your chest tight. How could he ask you that so soon after his proposal? You bit your lip and looked up at him, trying to keep your voice steady. 

"I--My life is here." You said as if that explained everything.

"And are you happy?" Oberyn asked and you had to fight to swallow the lump in your throat.

"I don't know." 

"That's not an answer." 

You turned over in his arms and touched his face. That strong, handsome face that after only a few days you knew you could pick out of a crowd of thousands. You kept your hand in his jaw as your gaze flickered down to his lips before kissing him gently. He knew you were avoiding the question. 

Feeling bold from the night before, you raised up on your arms, sliding your leg over his until you were straddling his waist. His cock, soft with sleep, started to harden as the movement caused him to press against the soft cheek of your ass. He looked up at you with a heavy gaze and you would have given anything to know what he was thinking as he put his hands on your waist gently. 

Did you want to go to Dorne? You didn’t know. Although you weren’t particularly fond of the heat, the idea of warm sands and ocean air did sound appealing. What you did know was that you felt a connection with the man under you, and the woman resting quietly at your side. And that was something you did want. You didn’t want your time with them to end just because they had to return to their homeland. Most of your life in King’s Landing, and before on Casterly Rock, had been lonely. You were used to being alone. You were good at it. But you had a taste of companionship, of sated intellect, and you knew it was going to hurt if you had to go back to a life without it. 

“If I go--to Dorne, I mean,” you started, putting your hands on Oberyn’s chest and moving your hips slightly to get more comfortable. 

“Yes?” he all but begged you to continue, tightening his grip on you--if you would stop moving he could focus better on your words instead of your body.

“Where would I live?”

“In the palace,” he said simply. “In the Watergardens of the Martells--with me and Ellaria.”

“And then?” You bit your lip, knowing the question was forward to say the least. “When this is over?” You knew it was an audacious assumption to even suggest such a man commit to you in any way. But it was a valid thought. When whatever this was had run its course, would you be stuck in a strange city to fend for yourself?

“I do not offer such a thing to just anyone,” he leaned up on his elbows, bringing his face closer to yours. “If you come to Dorne, this is not something that will end. You are not something to be tossed aside.” He put his large hand through your hair at your temple, brushing it back from your face. 

His words weighed heavy on your heart and you looked down at your hands on his chest. “Promise?”

He nodded with a growl and leaned forward to capture your lips in a bruising kiss that you returned equally. It didn’t answer every question you had but it was enough--at least for now. He turned you over, positioning himself on top of you as he settled between your legs. The three of you had spent the night in a triangle of tongues and hungry mouths. It was as if none of you could get enough of the taste of one another, but when it came to actually being inside you, Oberyn had held back. It was as if he worried the weight of his passion would scare you away. 

“What do you say, my lioness?” he said against your throat as he licked a hot line over your pulse point. You knew it was a double edged question as his cock pressed against your abdomen and as Dorne lay waiting on the other side of the world. 

You started to respond but a noise from downstairs made you stop short. A woman screamed and a few men yelled but their words were muffled by the floorboards and the stairs. Whoever it was sounded angry, that much was certain. Ellaria sat up, moving her thick curls from her eyes as she blinked, trying to clear the sleep from her vision.

"Oberyn?" She said, her voice sounding unsure for the first time since you had met her. 

The two of you froze and Oberyn lifted his head from your neck slowly, listening as the sounds continued on the floor below your room. He gently untangled himself from your arms and thighs before sliding out from under the silks.

"Stay here, my love." He spoke to Ellaria, but you knew he included you in that sentence as well. Oberyn gave you one last squeeze before standing to hastily pull on the pants he was wearing the day before. He reached under his pillow and pulled out a dagger, twisting it easily in his hand until the heavy handle rested in his palm. Had that been there all night?

The door to your chambers opened abruptly and you pulled the silk blanket to your naked chest. Oberyn had placed himself between the door and the bed before it even opened--between the women in his bed and whatever was coming up the stairs. You could still peer around his muscled back as the door swung open without so much as a knock. Two members of the King's Guard placed themselves on either side of the door, parting just enough to let an armored man walk between them. His helmet was balanced on his hip under his arm, his right hand balanced on the pommel of his sword as he took in the bedroom. 

He was broad, tall, and very blond. And unfortunately he was family.

"Jaime Lannister," Oberyn said, with a grin that was not at all pleasant. 

You cursed quietly under your breath and looked around for your clothes but didn't want to have to get out of the bed naked to retrieve them. You silently prayed that the world would open up beneath you and whatever god deemed it so would swallow you whole. 

"Oberyn Martell," Jaime said, smiling his perfect white smile in the direction of the other man. "I was under the impression you had already left for Dorne."

"Not yet," Oberyn said, as diplomatically as he could considering he still held his dagger. "I have a few more days in this lovely city."

Jaime threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, Martells have always been terrible liars."

"Our talent for bending the truth was lost to the Lannister's, I'm afraid." 

Jaime's eyes grew cold and he adjusted his stance, but Oberyn wasn't done speaking.

"What brings you to my room so early, Little Lannister?" Oberyn stuck the dagger in the belt of his pants and moved to the pitcher of wine that was on the table still covered in food from the night before. 

Jaime grit his teeth and his eyes fell to you for a moment once Oberyn was out of the way. "I've come to collect, (y/n)." 

Oberyn paused in the pouring of his wine and looked back at the other man. "Is that so?"

"Her uncle is worried." Jaime lied, but Oberyn wasn't fooled.

"Well, you may return to the castle and inform him of her good health," the prince waved his hand in the direction of the door and moved back to stand between you and the guards. 

"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Jaime handed his helm back to the guard on his left before taking a few steps into the room. He picked up your dress that was hanging over the fainting couch and brought it to his face, reveling in the soft fabric. "Why is it--" Jaime turned and made eye contact with you. "Whenever I'm asked to go find you...you're always on your back?" 

Jaime's vile grin made your stomach drop to the floor and you gripped the sheet against your breasts tighter. This couldn't be happening again. You were suddenly much younger and in the forest back on Casterly Rock. You felt like a child. Ashamed and alone. Oberyn didn't need to fight this battle for you, it wasn't his to fight. But apparently he felt differently.

"Watch it, boy," Oberyn said darkly, his hand moving back to the dagger. 

The movement caused the guards to draw their swords, metal sliding against sheath as the light caught the blades and Ellaria gasped. You couldn’t do this. You couldn't ask either of them to do this. 

"Or what?" Jaime raised an eyebrow.

"I am a prince of Dorne--"

"You're not my prince," Jaime said flatly. "And this is not Dorne." 

Ellaria started to reach for Oberyn but you found your voice. The cold that froze your body receded at the thought of either of them in danger because of you. 

"Enough," you said, sharply. "Stop." You stood up, keeping your body covered as best you could and held your hand out to Jaime for your dress. Jaime paused for a moment before throwing it forcefully at your chest. 

"Get dressed," he hissed. He jerked his head, motioning for his guards to wait outside. 

You waited for Jaime to leave too but he wouldn't budge. You turned your body away from him and tried to pull the dress on without losing the sheet, starting with the sleeves. Oberyn moved around the bed to stand behind you, using his body to effectively block Jaime's gaze. 

"(Y/n)," he said, lowering his voice. 

"Don't," you said, refusing to look at him as hot tears burned behind your eyes. You had been stupid for staying the night, for entertaining the idea that this, whatever this was, had a chance of working. You couldn’t go to Dorne because that meant abandoning your family. And you didn’t just abandon the Lannisters. It was a foolish fantasy, but that didn’t mean it didn't hurt. 

"You don't have to do this," Ellaria said, leaning across the bed and reaching for your hand. You shrugged her off and the hurt on her face felt like a dagger through your chest. 

"I do." You shook your head, dropping the sheet as you pulled your dress over your ass, letting the rest of the material fall. You grabbed your bodice off the table and refused to meet the gaze of your two companions. Oberyn grabbed your forearm as you tried to walk in front of him and you bit your lip. "Oberyn please don't do this. I'm not worth it."

"Don't you dare say such things," the Prince growled and you looked away from him. You blinked slowly, refusing to let any of the tears you carefully held in spill over. He took your chin in his hand and made you look back at his handsome face. "You never answered me."

"What?" You whispered, your voice cracking no matter how tightly you clenched your jaw. 

"Are you happy?" When you didn't answer, he asked again, "What do you want?"

You laughed bitterly and rubbed a tear off your cheek roughly with the palm of your hand. "I'm a Lannister, Oberyn. It doesn't matter what I want."

The sentence held a sense of finality that threatened to carve your heart in two. It didn't matter what you wanted, because the Lannister in your blood came first. It didn't matter back then and it didn't matter now. You wanted what you were made to want, it was as simple as that. Oberyn and Ellaria offered you freedom, but it was a freedom you could never have. And the sooner you made peace with that, the less it would hurt when you watched them sail away at the end of the week. 

"You cannot believe that--" Oberyn tried but you leaned up on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek gently, stopping his words.

"Thank you," you said softly against his skin and he closed his eyes tightly to savor the feeling of you close to him. You were saying goodbye without actually speaking the words into existence and the pain on his face was clear.

Jaime waited by the door with a smirk on his face that you wanted to cut off with Oberyn's dagger. He extended his arm to you and you shoved it away, grabbing your shoes instead. 

"Oberyn," Ellaria rose to her knees and looked at him pleadingly. She begged him wordlessly to stop this, to stop Jaime, to stop you from walking out that door and out of their safe haven. 

Oberyn ignored her, knowing that in this moment he was powerless. It was a feeling that he hated. “Jaime.” He said firmly enough that the two of you stopped in the doorway. Jaime kept his grip on your arm tight as he looked back at the prince. “Tell your father I will add this to his list of sins.”

Jaime grinned. “Oh, I will.”

He pulled you through the doorway without giving you a chance to look back and you had never hated him more. You hated him that day on Casterly Rock. And you hated him now. It made your heart feel sick and shriveled. 

He had little regard for the way you stumbled down the steps in your sandals that were only partially on. His grip being more than enough to keep you standing. The whores of the brothel watched as he pulled you out of the door like a lover scorned by your fornication. It was humiliating. It made your cheeks and neck burn with embarrassment when you knew you should have been worried about what would happen once you were back in the palace. 

“Let go,” you grit through your teeth as the two of you made it into the street. 

He mounted his horse wordlessly, throwing his leg over the beast with a grunt and adjusting the cloak that was clasped to his golden pauldrons. He offered a gloved hand down to you with a grin. 

“Come on, (y/n),” he said.

You looked at his hand in disgust before looking back up at him. “I can walk back on my own, thank you.” The words sounded childish to your own ears but you couldn’t bear the idea of giving Jaime the pleasure of dragging you back to your uncle. 

“I’m not asking,” he said, lowered his voice as he looked you in the eyes. 

You could feel people watching the two of you. You could only imagine what it looked like to those passing by--a half-dressed woman and the Kingslayer. Taking his hand reluctantly, you let him hoist you up into the saddle in front of him with your back pressed firmly against the steel of his gilded breastplate. You put your hands gently in the mane of the white mare and looked straight ahead stubbornly ignoring everything about the man behind you. 

Jaime wrapped one arm tightly around your waist as he grabbed the reins with the other. His breath was hot against your curls as he whispered in your ear. “See? That wasn’t hard. Since we seem to be making a habit of this, it would be more fun if you weren’t such a frigid bitch.”

He licked the shell of your ear and you jerked your head away from him in disgust. It made him chuckle as he clicked his heels against the animal’s haunches and the rest of the King’s Guard followed suit. 

Against your better judgement, you looked up at the second floor of the brothel, easily finding the window to the bedroom you had practically spent the last few days in. Not surprisingly, you found Oberyn staring out at you, his face was stoic but he couldn’t keep the pain he felt in his chest out of his eyes. Ellaria had her arms wrapped around his bicep, looking down at you in much the same way, before she glanced at Jamie and her expression turned venomous. Your heart lightened ever so slightly because you knew...this wasn’t over. 

________________

[Next Chapter]

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[salmonthestoryteller]

The Widow of the Web

A Roswell New Mexico/Krull AU Fanfic (Part of the fic Destiny) The group traveled out of the swamps the next day.  The new area was full of tall mountains and rich forests, though none as vibrant as the area around where the Emerald Seer had lived.  Towards dusk, Valenti called a halt to the excursion - near one of the tallest mountains in the area.

“The Widow’s place isn’t far.”  She explained.  “But I must go alone from here.”

“I could go with you, at least the entrance of the cave-”  Kyle began.

Valenti shook her head.  “No, this is a journey it’s best I take alone.”

The cyclops seemed to hesitate, but nodded.  “When will you return?”  He asked her.

“...If i’m not back by sunrise, I won’t be back.”

“You shouldn’t bother.  She won’t help you.”  Rosa crossed her arms.  “She helps no one but herself.”

“I understand your anger.  I was angry, too, once.”  Valenti told her.“

She deserves her fate.”  Liz had approached as well.

“Perhaps. But perhaps she deserves redemption, too.  Perhaps we all do.”  With that she started towards the mountain.

Alex watched the group talk, feeling very much as though he was missing something.  “Do you know anything about the kingdom that fell?”  He asked Max.

“Very little.  It was before I commanded the armies.  I know there was a battle, and a fire that rampaged Sky’s land - your weapons or our magic, I couldn’t say which was the cause.  In the separate kingdoms' histories we each blamed each other for their fate.”  Max offered. “I didn’t think you were the sort to read histories, let alone from my kingdom.”  Alex admitted.

“I didn’t always want to be a warrior.  In the end, though, I had little choice.”

“I understand.  I didn’t always want to be a warrior either.”

Max placed a hand on his shoulder, a moment of understanding between them, and left his side to go speak to Isobel.

Alex hesitated a moment, before joining Kyle where he stood watching the direction Valenti had gone.  “I didn’t know you knew each other.” Kyle hesitated a moment before replying.  “She’s my mother.”

Alex froze at the words, shock clear on his face.  “I…”

“They led the armies of Sky together.  Sky had a trade agreement with Slate in those days.  They didn’t join in the war against Antar, but they didn’t have any agreements with them either.  Your father demanded the right to pass through Sky’s lands to attack Antar, and was refused.  That didn’t stop him.  Sky became a battleground - it’s lands ravaged and it’s leaders dead or scattered.”

“I… didn’t know…”

“Why would you?  Sky hasn’t existed for over a decade now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You aren’t your father, Alex of Slate.  You don’t have to apologize for his wrongs.”

Alex saw the pieces come together in his mind, he glanced over to where Liz and Rosa were talking with Maria and Jenna.  “The Emerald Seer was once Sky’s seer, wasn’t she?  Valenti and your father the army leaders.  That makes Liz and Rosa Sky’s lost princesses, doesn’t it?”

“You have a sharp mind.  I don’t think anyone else has figured it out yet.”  Kyle told him.

“Who, then, is the Widow of the Web?”  Alex looked at him, frowning.

“...”  Kyle looked back to Liz and Rosa, and Alex closed his eyes as the final piece of the puzzle fell into place.

-----

The cave opening was dark, but Michelle didn’t bother to light a torch.  The path was a simple curved path, easy to traverse even in the dark.  And once far enough in, a strange ghostly light illuminated from where the tunnel expanded.

There was no bridge, no ledge.  The cave opened to a fall into darkness below.  But stretched between was a gigantic web - it’s fibers lighting the area with a pale luminescence.  And in the center was what looked like a large sac  - domed and completely opaque.  There was no sign of anyone living.  No breath of wind, no sound.

“I seek the widow!”  She shouted out into the emptiness - hearing her own voice echo from the walls.

“Enter here and find death.”  A voice replied softly, but still managing to echo around the room.

Taking a deep breath, Michelle moved onto the webbing carefully, using it to slowly make her way towards the center where the mysterious domed sac was.  Partway across, she heard a sound like a chime, looking up she spotted a spider - gigantic in size, and made of looked like crystal.  It was crawling towards her along the web.  She hurried along the webbing, but soon realized it would reach her long before she could make it to safety.

She turned towards the center.  “Helena!”  She shouted out.

“Who knows my name?”

“It’s Michelle, Helena!”

Inside the dome a shadowy figure reached out to an hourglass on the table, slowly she turned it - the sands beginning to drop slowly inbetween the two chambers slowly.  Outside, the spider was frozen in place.  “I give you this time…”

Michelle hurried forward along the webbing as fast as she could, pausing briefly as she tried to make her way around a wrapped shape.  Reaching out a curious hand, she pulled away part of the webbing - a skeletal face looked out at her from the cocoon.  Wincing, she moved onwards.  Inside the dome, the sands began to run out.  The spider’s eyes watched her progress, and she when she glanced back she saw it slowly begin to sway - regaining movement.

Climbing upwards, she pulled out a knife - hacking away a few of the strands.  As the last of the sands dropped to the bottom chamber, and the spider leaped forward after her - she grabbed onto the loose webbing and swung across an open portion of the web - landing safely inside the domed sac.  The spider ceased it’s movements, but didn’t retreat.  It waited.

Michelle pushed farther into the strange structure - finding the hunched form of Helena inside, her face covered by a black veil.

“I was young when I last heard that name.”  Helena told her.

“I was young when I last spoke it to you.”

“And my face was as beautiful as my name…”

“And we all loved you, with all our hearts.”

“Yet you were all so busy.”

“There were duties, Helena.”

“Rubbish…  Rosa is his daughter, you know.”

“I guessed it.”

“Did you know I invited Jesse’s army to cross our lands?“

Michelle took in a sharp breath at the words, not having expected them.  “But you said nothing…”

“My anger needed an outlet.  I arrogantly assumed I could control the situation.  This is my punishment.”  Helena glanced at her, then away.  “I know you can never forgive me.”

“I cannot forgive myself, I have already forgiven you.”

“How can you forgive the woman who is to blame for the man we both love dying?”

“...If I could not - could I see us now, as I saw us then?”  Michelle turned to the mirror, concentrating.  The glass shimmered, and in it was a picture of the two of them - laughing in the corridor of a palace.  A crown was on Helena’s head, and Michelle was dressed in leather armor.

“...And allow me to see through your eyes…”  Helena paused, pulling away the veil - her face matched the young queen who seemed so happy in the mirror.  “Your vision is your gift to me.”

“And your vision can be your gift to me.”  Michelle told her.  “The black fortress - where will it be tomorrow?”

Helena’s eyes glazed over for a moment.  “At sunrise it will appear in the iron desert…”  She blinked, returning to the present.  “But this knowledge is useless to you - there’s no way out of here.”  When Michelle glanced at the hourglass, she shakes her head.  “It can be turned only once - it is the lure of the web.”

“A young prince is being held in the fortress.  An heir of ancient power.  Another young prince seeks him.  Hopeful, innocent. The ages we were when… we all loved so deeply.”

“You ask for something I cannot give.”  Helena tells her.

“Then the other heir of ancient power will also grow old and alone in a place of darkness.  This whole world will be a place of darkness.”  Michelle reached out to take her hands.

Helena clung back - her expression torn.  She turned to the hourglass, pulling her hands away and reaching out to pick it up. “These are the sands of my life… use them and the Crystal Spider will have no power over you.  But your own life runs out with the sands...”

“What about your own life?”

“...I give it to the new heir of ancient power…”  Helena held the hour glass up, and brought it down on the table - smashing the top to pieces.  Outside the safety of the dome, the Crystal Spider gave a sound like a scream.

“I cannot stop the sands…”  Michelle mentioned as Helena poured the contents of the hourglass into her palms.

“You cannot stop time.”  Helena replied.  “Go now, quickly.”

Michelle hesitated a moment more, gazing at her, then she hurried out of the dome - finding her way carefully along the webbing.  The spider began to approach and she held up her hand - the sands dripping steadily out of it.  The spider froze in place.  She glanced back at the dome, just making out the figure of Helena inside, holding the broken pieces of the hourglass - then she turned away and made her escape from the cave.

Once she’d disappeared out of the cave entrance, the spider approached it - pincers working angrily - it then returned to the dome - it’s legs slowly cracking the structure and the connecting webs.  Within moments the entire web broke, both the spider and the sac falling into the abyss below….

To Be Continued….

Notes: While I still managed to use some of the lines and plot points of the original movie, a lot of things are altered here to fuse with RNM.  It’s an 80s movie, and in the original couple is Lyssa, the captured princess, and Colwyn, the Prince trying to rescue her.  Gideon is the Old One  - whose place I fill with Valenti.  There is no third kingdom, and the Cyclops has no real connection with Gideon.  Gideon, however, has a different connection with the Widow of the Web.

The original phrase is “A girl of ancient name will become queen, she will choose a king and together they will rule our world, and their son shall rule the galaxy.”

The name of The Widow of the Web in the original movie is Lyssa.  Gideon was her chosen king.  He neglected her, and she murdered their son in her anger.  Her placement in the web is her punishment.

Gideon says the exact line, “I cannot forgive myself, I have already forgiven you” to her.  But her line about the captive of the Beast is: “What of your own life?”  “I give it to the girl who bears my name.”

The reveal of their history is a very dark, but very powerful and wrenching moment in the original movie.  I’m not sure I matched it with this take, but I tried.

[fandomsonrequests]

𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓..? [𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 4]

fandom: ATEEZ

characters: prince! park seonghwa

reader: fem! knight

word count: 2.0k+

summary:  It was time for another Selection. No- not a Selection for a bride but rather a well-trained knight to keep Prince Seonghwa safe after a failed assassination attempt. You, a blacksmith’s daughter, manage to make it to the elite group of knights worthy and skilled enough to protect the crown prince after months and months of training. This alone catches Seonghwa’s eyes- in more ways than one

a/n: hello! here’s part four to the series! i’m still writing the series BUT updates will be slow since school is about to start and I’ll be busy ;^; i’ll try my best to upload though! till then, thank you for sticking with the series! <3

taglist: @iwanttohitmyself​ @barcelona-sergei​ 

↞previous  ♛  next↠

You wake up before the sun- just as usual. Only this time, your whole family was wide awake as you. 

You tie close your knapsack full of your belongings that you deemed necessary and pull on your boots by the door. You look over your shoulder to see your brother and father, looking at you with sad eyes. 

“Here, you’ll get hungry,” Christopher says as he hands you a wrapped pouch of dried meat, cheese, and some bread. 

You smile in gratitude and take the pouch from him. “Thanks, Chris.” You tell and receive a pat to your shoulder. 

With an exhale, you sling your knapsack over your shoulder and face your family. “Well, I’m off.” You say, biting back an onslaught of tears that threatened to fall. 

“Wait-” Your father says and goes up to you. 

You stood in place and looked over to him. He reached into his pocket and produced a silver chain with a small and round smoothed piece of marble attached to the end. It was a simple necklace but it was delicately and beautifully crafted. He beckoned you closer and you leaned forward. He then places the necklace around your neck, clasping the locks together. 

“This once belonged to your mother.” He whispers as he pulls away from you. “Think of it as a good luck charm and that your mother’s spirit guides you when you train at the palace.” 

He gulps and sniffled when he stepped back, almost as if he was trying his best not to cry. Your father flashes you a smile, one of his rare but bright ones. It always cheered you up- no matter what. That smile of his only meant one thing: whatever the circumstance, everything would be alright.

You touch the marble pendant delicately, afraid that your worn hands would break it. “It’s... it’s beautiful, papa. Thank you…” You tell him. 

And before you knew it, your feet were carrying you over to your father and Christopher, pulling the both of them into a tight hug. You tried your best not to cry but a tear or two slipped down your cheeks when you felt their arms tighten around you. 

You’d miss this. You’d miss your home. You’d miss them. 

You force yourself to pull away, bidding them one final goodbye with a kiss to their cheeks. “I’ll make the both of you proud.” You promise them. 

You turn to the door and open it, taking a deep breath. The cold air of the mountains fills your lungs, waking you up from any sleep left in you and giving you the boost you needed. You didn’t look back to your family because you knew if you did, you’d never go back out there again and the argument from yesterday would’ve been useless. 

You close the door behind you and make your way over to the designated area you were to be picked up from. You pass by the seamstress’s house, seeing her cry as she wishes her son off to the Selection. You recognized him, Raviv was his name. He used to be your playmate when you were small. 

Raviv kisses his mother goodbye and waved over to his family as he too heads down the road for the Selection. He spots you from his side of the road and waved at you. He was awfully cheery considering the circumstances. 

“——!” He calls your attention and jogs up to you. “Is it alright if I walk with you?”

It wouldn’t really matter if you said yes or no right now because he already settled into a pace matching yours as he walked alongside you. You just shrug at this, adjusting the knapsack on your shoulders. 

Despite Raviv’s cheery disposition, you noticed how he fidgeted with the stray threads of his shirt and how he clasped his hands together, palms rubbing against each other. He was hiding his nervousness- a bit unsuccessfully at that. You couldn’t blame the poor kid for that, who wouldn’t be nervous at an event like this? You couldn’t even quell your own butterflies that you feel in your tummy.

“You alright there, Raviv?” You ask him gently and offer a smile to help calm his nerves. 

He responded with an embarrassed chuckle and rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, I’m good… I guess I’m just worried about what's going to come to us when we start training.” He admits and looks ahead, already seeing several people gathered at where they were supposed to meet. 

“Hey, it’s not like we’re being sent off to war.” You reply. You were never really an optimist but it didn’t hurt to be one every once in a while. 

He snorted at that, corner of his lips up turning into a small smile. “I guess.”

The two of you join the handful of young adults gathered around. The majority of them were grouped with their friends while the loners were off to the side, quietly observing the others around them. All of them were dressed in worn but warm clothing and coats- the weather was chillier than usual. Maybe the gods out there decided to tease them and have the weather match the mood. 

There wasn’t much energy coming off from the whole group either; the atmosphere around them was solemn and uncertain. Questions like how the town would function when they’re gone or how strict the training would be floated around. The Selection has certainly imposed itself upon the place, basically changing the fabric of the town in a snap.

You tried to push those thoughts away, you weren’t about to let your nerves get the best of you right now. You reached up to the pendant gifted to you and took a deep breath, allowing it to ground you and dispel any jitters you had at the moment. It usually worked for you to breathe when you were nervous- usually. 

“What’s that, ____?” Simeon asks as she popped up from nowhere. “Oh hey, Raviv.”

“Hi, Siyeon.” The young man replied and gave a wave. “You’re going too?”

“Yup,” She pops the p sound and leans against you, propping an elbow up on your shoulder. “All able-bodied people of our age right? That was the law.” She then looked over to you, specifically at your necklace, still expecting an answer to her question. 

“Oh- Uhm, it’s a gift from my dad. A good luck charm he called it.” You answer when you notice her gaze, moving to tuck the pendant under your collar and into your shirt. You didn’t want people’s attention to be drawn to it. 

“Oh, that’s cute.” She coos with a gentle smile. She pats your cheek fondly and turns back to Raviv to make conversation with them. 

Just as the sun was rising, thundering sounds of hooves against the ground was heard. In the distance, several horse-driven coaches pulled up into their village. They weren’t as grand as the nobleman’s from yesterday, much to some people’s displeasure, but it was no less expensive. 

Siyeon gawks at their provided mode of transport, each of her hands gripping yours and Raviv’s arms. “Looks like we’ll be riding in style lady and gentleman.” She says with a smile.

You didn’t hear your other friend’s reply, everyone’s voices fading into the background. All you could hear right now was your heart beating rapidly in your ears with the heavy thrum of blood rushing to your head. 

This was it. The start of a new chapter of your life. 

~

“Seonghwa!” 

The young man in question jumps from his spot in the marble gazebo built in the center of the palace garden. He glanced behind him to see his adviser, and close friend, Hongjoong standing at the entrance of the garden, arms crossed and foot tapping against the ground. 

Seonghwa leans down to pick up the book he had dropped from his initial surprise and brushes off the dust on the expensive leather cover. With a sigh, he stands and walks over to his friend who shook his head in slight disappointment.

“Didn’t your father say not to go out on your own?” Hongjoong starts as the pair heads back into the palace. 

The prince releases another sigh. “He did, but I’m just in the garden. Besides, it’s hard to read or concentrate when I can feel eyes boring into the back of my head.” He brushes his dark tresses out of his eyes, tucking a few hairs behind his ear. He needs to cut his hair soon.

The smaller of the two only chuckled in response. “Yeah well, you know your father. He may be going over the top with your safety and all but he just wants the best for you.” He pushes open large wooden doors with intricate designs made of gold embedded into it. “You did almost get… assassinated a few days ago.” He says apprehensively. He wasn’t sure how Seonghwa would feel if he used the word murdered. 

“Yes of course I understand,” Seonghwa replied as he nodded his head in gratitude from Hongjoong’s action. “But to hold another Selection for that..” He trails off, eyes distant.

Seonghwa was never really fond of the original Selection in the first place. While he had the liberty to pick a bride from the group that managed to pass the first few stages, he still felt that it was unfair not only to him but to the other young delegates that didn’t pass. What if they had cheated their way to the top? What if they were just using his wealth and power for themselves? What if they force themselves to act so perfect just to satisfy him?

Seonghwa would rather fall in love with someone genuine to themselves and in what they believe in. How the kingdom works, relations with others, and how to act in his kingdom can all be learned with time.

But forever the optimist, the young prince decided that he’d still be fair in judgment and that he’ll eventually learn to love his bride-to-be. It wasn’t right to assume things right off the bat when he barely knew the person. 

“.. wants only the best of the best for you,” Hongjoong says when the taller of the two breaks away from his thoughts. 

“I-I’m sorry, come again?” 

“I said it may be a bit overboard but your family only wants the best of the best for you.” He repeated and looked up at the prince, hands in his pockets, and an easy-going smile on his face, one that was reserved for the young prince. “You never know. Maybe you and the one who’s going to protect you will become close friends. Your relationships with the guards around the palace don’t always have to be so formal, y’know?” 

“I suppose...” 

Seonghwa stops the two from their trek because the palace was just that big, to the prince’s study, and stared out the stained glass windows and down into the courtyard. There were a few young knights-in-training practicing. Soon, the area would be full of other people his age, or close to it, training to reach the top and protect him. 

He wondered what they would think of him if ever they catch him peering down at them, or when he gets to talk with the others that manage to make it far. The thought alone sent butterflies to his stomach. He wasn’t so sure about what most people of his kingdom thought of him. Either way, he tried his best to be a fair and just ruler. Or ruler-to-be rather. It was still a long way to go before he was to be crowned as king. 

The sudden sound of the door they came through bursting open drew the pair’s attention to it. On the other side was one of the palace guards, out of breath from running across the courtyard to this wing of the palace. 

“They’re about to arrive,” The guard pants, resting onto the door. “The king requests that you join him and the queen in the throne room.”

Another wave of nerves washes over Seonghwa. This was it- this was the time. He was going to see the group of people that were going to fight just to protect him. He inhales deeply through his nose and exhales slowly through his lips, straightening his back and shaking his hands. 

He turns to Hongjoong with a nod, a glint of determination set in his eyes. “I guess it’s time.”

[crusherthedoctor]

Crusher Elaborations #1: Thoughts on the Aesthetic of Sonic’s World

If someone came up to me and asked “Which do you prefer, Classic Sonic or Modern Sonic?”, my answer would start off with “Well, technically Classic Sonic because...”, and then I'd get cut off by the other person immediately lecturing me on why I'm wrong and why I'm the worst kind of fan imaginable. Should they finish their rant, I would then explain to them in the midst of them basking in their flock of easy Twitter likes that I didn't necessarily mean it in the way they predicted.

If we were talking about the games, the characters, or the character design, I'd be fairly neutral, since I like both halves equally for the most part. In fact, when it comes to characters, Modern might actually have the edge believe it or not, since the sheer number of characters introduced from SA1 onwards naturally means a lot of my favourites were introduced from that point on, such as Tikal, Rouge, Gamma, Omega, Blaze... But then again, Classic introduced Eggman and Tails, and the Hard-Boiled Heavies are technically Classic as well despite being relatively new...

Anyway, the point is, I'm not talking about any of that today. I'm talking about the world that Sonic and his multicolored chums live in. Or rather, the aesthetic of it.

NOTE: This is purely about the game universe. While I do have my thoughts on Sonic’s world as presented in other continuities, that won’t be the focus here.

If you're familiar with my blog, you'll know that as a general rule of thumb, I much prefer colorful and creative worlds in my Sonic universe, and that rings true for my reasoning here. And I know what you're gonna say: “But Crusher, isn't there plenty of that in the Modern games as well?” Yes, there is, and I appreciate them very much. But this is why I feel the need to make a post of this sort to begin with, because I'm NOT saying “Classic cool, Modern boring” and calling it a day. There's a little more nuance to my tastes here.

When I say I prefer the Classic aesthetic for Sonic's world, I don't mean it in the literal sense of disregarding everything about the Modern aesthetic. Let's put it like this: when you're asked to paint a picture of these two sides of Sonic's universe in your head, a specific image will likely come to mind. When you think of Classic, you'll probably think of Green Hill first and foremost, whereas with Modern, you'll probably think of something like City Escape or Rooftop Run before anything else. In other words, when you think Modern Sonic, you're probably imagining the more realistic kind of locations first. And between the two mental images that come to mind, I personally prefer the Classic image. Shock, horror.

I wish I could swim in a sea that’s probably radioactive.

Now keep in mind, I'm not saying that City Escape, Rooftop Run, and all similar environments in the series look bad, because they don't. Unless they're painted with the '06 brush, they generally look fine, and the locations in Unleashed in particular are undeniably beautiful from an graphical standpoint. The problem is that although I can picture this as a world that Sonic could be in, I can't necessarily picture it as Sonic's world specifically. Because when it comes to the more realistic environments, I feel there's not much of an attempt to let it branch out as its own thing.

I know that might seem harsh, especially for Unleashed, since the real world angle was the deliberate theme of that game. And Sonic taking cues from real places is a fine concept, there's no issue there. I'm not gonna complain if there's a France Zone with an Eiffel Tower in the background. In fact, Sandopolis Act 1 has one of my favourite aesthetics in a Classic zone (mainly because the background is really pleasant to look at), and that zone is essentially Egypt Zone. But if you're making a Real World Zone, there needs to be more to it than that, otherwise you don't truly get a Sonic interpretation of our world... you instead have our world as it is with Sonic characters awkwardly stapled on.

When I look at City Escape, it may not be completely unfitting for Sonic (the posters and billboards in particular are actually a really nice touch), but when I look at it, I don't see Sonic's interpretation of San Francisco. I see San Francisco with Sonic shoved in. When they morph these places to Sonic's liking, they'll add rings, loops... and that's it. They rarely take the concept any further, which is a huge shame, particularly in the case of Rooftop Run, where I otherwise do like its visuals a lot, but it just doesn't go far enough with the concept for my liking.

At least you get to murder car owners, and give G.U.N. a legitimate reason to arrest you.

So which Modern games do I feel did the best job at making Sonic's world... er, Sonic's world? Well the truth is, most of them actually do a decent job in this area, regardless of the level design quality or the game’s quality period. SA2 has Pumpkin Hill, Eggman's Pyramid Base, and... SOME levels aboard the A.R.K (mainly the “outside” ones, like Final Rush). Shadow the Hedgehog, a game that reveled in how brown and gritty it was, still had highlights like Circus Park and Digital Circuit. Even '06 of all games had Aquatic Base, which was pretty cool from a conceptual standpoint. And although Unleashed as a whole might be a touch too vanilla in the creativity scale, it still had the glorious Eggmanland at the very end. But if I had to say which of the Modern installments did the best job overall...

- For starters, I'm gonna give a shoutout to SA1, because even though it was the first Modern game, and thus it was technically responsible for the more focused angle of realism in Sonic's world in the first place, it didn't take it quite as far as later games would, and although it may not be a perfect 1-to-1 representation of the world we saw in the Classic games, it does well enough with what it brings to the table that I can still accept it without any issue at all. Some of that has to do with the fact that you still have wilder areas like Windy Valley and Red Mountain to balance things out, but even with the other half, the game's use of colour is enough for it to go a long way, oddly enough. Take the At Dawn section of Speed Highway for instance:

From innocent times, when the radar wasn’t a piece of shit.

Technically, it's really not that different to the urban environments you see in SA2 or Unleashed. But something about the sleepy morning approach gives it a subtle, almost dream-like edge to it that I really dig, and despite it being pretty similar to the likes of City Escape, somehow I have an easier time buying into the idea of this place being part of the same world as zones like Sky Sanctuary.

And seeing how I already mentioned Red Mountain, let me compare it to Flame Core:

Yes, I know bringing '06 into this discussion at all is inherently and hilariously unfair, but let's put aside the game that Flame Core comes from for a moment. Aside from maybe the purple crystal caves indoors (and that's assuming you can even see where the fuck you're going in there), Flame Core is pretty boring to look at as far as Sonic levels go. Red Mountain is vastly more interesting, even though it's basically the exact same concept, and a lot of that has to do with - you guessed it - colour. Sure, it's day time, that's one thing, but you'll also notice that for a lava/mountain stage, it surprisingly has a few grassier sections, sort of like Hill Top in that regard. A little bit of green among the brown and red, and a great contrast to the volcanic nightmare you'll experience when you head inside.

Now this might seem like a fairly minor detail... and yeah, it is, but the thing that SA1 does so well is that it combines so many of those small details to make a complete, well-rounded package. This is why SA1 meshes well with the Classic style despite not being an exact replica, because just as the Classics excelled at, it wasn't afraid to use colour in interesting ways. It understood that a fire level could have more than just red and orange, in the same way that a grassy level could have more than just green and blue.

But of course, as I mentioned, SA1 is not an exception. There are other Modern games that did a great job on the whole...

- Heroes is an obvious answer, since it's translation of Genesis-style environments to 3D is probably one of the most recurring praises the game receives, and rightly so. Not much to say here, except that Hang Castle is still cool as hell.

And plenty of opportunity to admire the not-broken-in-half moon.

- Colours is another obvious one, though something of an ironic one given that the premise of the game involved going to other worlds, and those worlds were all converted against their will by Eggman. Yet, they did an equally superb job at creating fun, unique locales, and Aquarium Park in particular remains a favourite of mine.

Gotta love that red/blue contrast.

- The Riders series has a more futuristic bend compared to the rest of the series, but even when it's not all high-tech, it's got some pretty cool environments of its own, and I feel they even do well at mixing the real world side of things on top of that. Gigan Rocks comes to mind, as does Aquatic Capital.

Reminds me of when Perfect Chaos peacefully protested against Station Square.

- Regardless of my thoughts on the game itself, Secret Rings had some undeniable winners in this depertment. You tell me with a straight face that Night Palace doesn't look amazing.

A wonderful palace for a domestic abuser.

- And lastly, they might have had an early advantage since they're already 2D, but the Advance trilogy and Rush duology deserve a mention. They had some fantastic ideas for zones, like Planet Sonata Music Plant, and they did great with the colours as well. Hell, throughout these five games, the sky was practically every shade of the rainbow at one point or another.

Oh look, another completely whole moon.

Also, quick shoutout to another minor detail akin to the grassy sections of Red Mountain: these pink tunnel sections in Ice Mountain. No elaborate point to make here, just another perfect example of how much I adore these games' use of colour and contrast.

Seriously, I could go on for hours about good contrast.

Although I do bring up these small details for another reason, and in turn, another layer to my more nuanced take on Sonic aesthetics. By this point, we get the basic jist: Crusher likey when Sonic levels unique and pretty. But this can - and has - lead to a couple of misconceptions, so I'd like to address those and then laugh at them.

“So you want Sonic's world to be exactly like Mario?”

A common complaint that Lost World received was that it was too much like Mario, in more ways than one, and part of this was to do with the game's visual style. The zones may have been upbeat, but they often consisted of a bunch of things floating in the air and not much else, ala 2D Mario. While I didn't outright hate it, it’s definitely not what I have in mind for Sonic.

Of course, all complaints about being too much like Mario suddenly turn into praise when Eggette gets brought up...

And why is that? Because yes, I like my Sonic locations to be fun and lively... but I also want them to be firmly established within the context of this universe. The Lost World approach is fine with Special Stages and the sort, but outside of that... well, Studiopolis is a perfect example of what I'm talking about:

On one hand, it's very unique when compared to other cities in this franchise, and it's full of quirkiness, great use of colour, and all that good stuff I've went on about. But at the same time, it's grounded just enough so that it still feels like an actual city that the people of Sonic's world could feasibly live in, rather than a basic and empty video game level with a tacked on city background. Studiopolis may be a level from a video game, but you can totally believe it's a fully fleshed out place from its own perspective.

Naturally, this praise also rings true with the Modern games I listed earlier, and is yet another reason for why I approve of their settings.

“So you think Sonic can't have darker locations?”

It might be easy to take my compliments at face value, and assume that I'm immediately opposed to a zone that's not brightly colored. This is... very obviously false, as even the Classic games have their share of less-than-cheery areas, such as Scrap Brain and the Bad Futures in Sonic CD.

However, when you're making a grittier location in Sonic's world, regardless of the context, it still needs to be interesting. The problem with a lot of them in Modern installments is that they're boring. Crisis City is a generic city on fire. Westopolis is a generic city with aliens firing lasers from above. The prison levels in SA2 - and the indoor ARK levels not named Cannon's Core - are just grey hallways for the most part. That shit isn't exciting, and it doesn't get my mind speculating. It just makes me want to move on.

Let the eggsperts take care of this.

By contrast, Eggmanland is a prime example of how to do it right. Eggmanland is a magnificent theme park as envisioned by the good doctor, but it's also, at its core, a giant metal hellscape fueled by the energy of a dark entity, and it only gets more ominous the further you go through it or try to before you give up because it’s too fucking long and you died at the end. So it sets the mood to be sure, but it's still visually compelling to look at, and interesting to think about.

And since Eggman is apparently the only one who can show us how it's done, here's a shoutout to Titanic Monarch as well:

Like Heavy King, but Heavier and Kingier.

When comparing the final zones in Sonic games, I especially love this zone's visual approach, because it manages to be dark and colorful at the same time, and in a strangly organic way. It's got a spooky atmosphere, with a moody moonlight backdrop to match, and the titular robot is foreboding as hell as you climb up it and traverse through it... all the while having red floors, green and yellow wires, blue and pink buildings, and stained glass windows of Eggman and the Heavies for you to marvel at. So even putting aside the unique scenario of climbing up and then through a Kaiju-sized mech, the mood of the zone alone manages to be extremely memorable.

So what have we learned from all this? Aside from the fact that I’m way too interested in this subject? We now know that when I say I prefer the Classic “style” over Modern when it comes to the way that Sonic's world is presented:

- I don't mean that literally.

- There are certain qualities that although both of them possess, they tend to be more immediately associated with Classic in the collective consciousness, even within the fandom.

- The environments that I love the most in Modern games are often the ones that would also fit perfectly in the Classic style.

So whenever I express the basic nature of this opinion in the future... just imagine a small asterisk at the end of my sentence.

[hello-robin-goodfellow]

FICTIONAL CHARACTER ASK: ROMEO MONTAGUE

TAGGED BY: @princesssarisa​

@ardenrosegarden​ @giuliettaluce​ @gravedangerahead​

Favorite thing about them: Oh my sweet boy, he is a sensitive poet that only wants to distance himself of violence and to share his love (for Juliet and for love itself) with the world.

Least favorite thing about them: That fact that when Tybalt kills Mercucio, he blames Juliet for “turning him affeminate” (weak) and decides to kill Tybalt in relation, believing this will prove that he is “man enough”. This obviously is the biggest mistake he ever commited.

Three things i have in common with them:

-His melancholy.

-I also can sometimes find dificult to communicate my true feelings to friends and relatives.

-I also love Juliet Capulet.

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

-Nobility status.

-Training to fight with a sword.

-I can’t improvise poetic dialogue the way he can. And i don’t have his french.

Favorite line:

“I fear, too early: for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night's revels and expire the term Of a despised life closed in my breast By some vile forfeit of untimely death”.

 “What lady is that, which doth enrich the hand Of yonder knight?

O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear; Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night”.

“ If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss”. 

“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were! She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it. I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night. See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek”!

 “She speaks: O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air”.

“ Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this”?

 “Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy That one short minute gives me in her sight: Do thou but close our hands with holy words, Then love-devouring death do what he dare; It is enough I may but call her mine”.

“Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy Be heap'd like mine and that thy skill be more To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue Unfold the imagined happiness that both Receive in either by this dear encounter”.

“This gentleman, the prince's near ally, My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt In my behalf; my reputation stain'd With Tybalt's slander,—Tybalt, that an hour Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet, Thy beauty hath made me effeminate And in my temper soften'd valour's steel”!

“ This day's black fate on more days doth depend; This but begins the woe, others must end”.

“Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain! Away to heaven, respective lenity, And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now”!

“O, I am fortune's fool”!

“Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel: Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, Doting like me and like me banished, Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair, And fall upon the ground, as I do now, Taking the measure of an unmade grave”.

“ It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. I must be gone and live, or stay and die”.

“ Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; I am content, so thou wilt have it so. I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye, 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads: I have more care to stay than will to go: Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so. How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day”.

 “Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor: Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear As will disperse itself through all the veins That the life-weary taker may fall dead And that the trunk may be discharged of breath As violently as hasty powder fired Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb”.

“Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness, And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks, Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes, Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back; The world is not thy friend nor the world's law; The world affords no law to make thee rich; Then be not poor, but break it, and take this”.

“I pay thy poverty, and not thy will”.

“There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murders in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell. I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none. Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in flesh. Come, cordial and not poison, go with me To Juliet's grave; for there must I use thee”.

“How oft when men are at the point of death Have they been merry! which their keepers call A lightning before death: O, how may I Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife! Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet3040 Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there. Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? O, what more favour can I do to thee, Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain To sunder his that was thine enemy? Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dear Juliet, Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe That unsubstantial death is amorous, And that the lean abhorred monster keeps Thee here in dark to be his paramour? For fear of that, I still will stay with thee; And never from this palace of dim night Depart again: here, here will I remain With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest, And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss A dateless bargain to engrossing death! Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide! Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark! Here's to my love”!

“O true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die”.    

brOTP: With Mercucio and Benvolio.

OTP: With Juliet.

nOTP: With Rosaline, Benvolio, Mercucio and Tybalt.

Random Headcanon:

-His favorite colors are: blue, green, white and silver.

-His favorite fairy tale is Rapunzel.

-His favorite greek myth is the love story of Orpheus and Euridice.

-In a Modern Day Everybody Lives AU i made in collab with @giuliettaluce​, he becomes an English Lit and Poetry professor. To know more about it, read it here:

https://giuliettaluce.tumblr.com/post/617050378210590720/modern-headcanon-romeo-and-juliet

Unpopular Opinion: Yes, Leonard Whiting is a good actor and he was a very good casting choice for the role of Romeo in the 1968 movie. But the cuts of many of his lines, like the one where he thinks that killing Tybalt as a regaining of honor and his dialogue with the apotecary, tones the characters actual complexity and intelligence way, way down, and is the cause of the popular misconception that Romeo is an impulsive bratty teenager.

Song i associate with them: 

Flor, Minha Flor (Grupo Galpão), wich is the theme of Grupo Galpão’s montage of Romeo and Juliet: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=koIO15cI-8Y

Favorite picture of them:

Sir Ian Holm, 1967

Dolhai Attila, 2001

Adetomiwa Edun, 2010 

Eduardo Moreira, 2012/13

Lucien Laviscount in the Still Star-Crossed series, 2017

[chipcoffeyblog]

Looking for something fun and totally outside the (candy) box for you and your special someone to do for Valentine's Day? Something totally different and a little bit off-the-wall? Then keep reading! Most of us enjoy spooky TV shows and movies, right? We love that delicious adrenaline rush of being creeped out just a bit by thoughts of ghosts and the paranormal! If that sounds like you - and/or your special Valentine - then keep reading! Wouldn't it be big fun for you and your Valentine to spend a night (or weekend) at a haunted hotel? Just imagine what you might experience! And think of the bragging rights you'll have when recounting your ghostly adventures to family and friends! As part of my work as a psychic and medium, I have traveled extensively and stayed at some of the most interesting - and haunted - hotels in the United States. I like to stay at places that have a rich history, combined with stories about the spirits that reportedly roam throughout the properties. I have seen and heard otherworldly things that would send delicious little goose bumps up and down the spines of most people! Below is a list of some of the haunted hotels that I have enjoyed visiting and predict that you will enjoy visiting, too. New York City: The Jane Hotel - Some of the survivors of the sinking of the Titanic stayed in the building that is now the Jane Hotel in NYC's Greenwich Village. Guests report seeing ghostly apparitions and hearing the sound of sobbing . And the elevator often appears to have a mind of its own, traveling up at down between floors randomly. Guest rooms are inspired by luxury ship and train cabins and tend to be on the small side, many with shared baths. If you desire an en suite bathroom, choose to stay in one of the Captain's Cabins. Added bonus: You're in NYC! There is so much to see and do! Visit all the sites and see a Broadway show!

New York State - Catskills area: Burn Brae Mansion in Glen Spey, NY - Spectral apparitions and ghostly sounds are often heard by guests at this lovely bed and breakfast that was once the elaborate Victorian home of the widow of George Ross MacKenzie, third president of the Singer Sewing Machine Company. Other unexplained occurrences include doors opening and slamming shut; the sound of children playing; the sound of animals when no animals are present; and the sound of an organ playing, although there is no organ in the house. During my visit there, I distinctly smelled cookies baking in the downstairs area, but no one was baking cookies. Added bonus: The surrounding area is beautiful! Go for a hike, horseback riding, rafting, etc. Los Angeles, California: Millennium Biltmore Hotel - The ghost of Elizabeth Short is said to haunt the Biltmore. Ms. Short was last seen alive at the Biltmore shortly before her gruesome demise in 1947 and that still unsolved case has been dubbed "The Black Dahlia Murder." Soldiers who stayed in the building during and after World War II and young children are also said to roam around the hotel. Perhaps iconic stars from bygone Hollywood days pay post mortem visits to The Biltmore? Added bonus: Hollywood, with all its star studded sites, is close by...and so are California beaches! Atlanta, Georgia: Georgian Terrace - In December of 1939, this hotel hosted the "Gone With the Wind" Gala after the movie's premiere in downtown Atlanta. Clark Gable (and wife, Carole Lombard), Vivien Leigh (and future husband, Laurence Olivier) and other stars of the movie were in attendance. Some say that a gangland-style murder and other deaths have occurred here and there are frequent reports of ghostly activity occurring within the hotel. Added bonus: The haunted Fox Theatre is across the street from the hotel...and you're close to downtown ATL.   Austin, Texas Driskill Hotel - This lavish hotel, located in downtown Austin and completed in 1882, was built by Colonel Jesse Driskill, a cattleman who spent his entire fortune to build "the finest hotel south of St. Louis." He is said to haunt the hotel, along with a little girl who fell down the grand staircase while chasing her runaway ball and two brides who allegedly took their own lives in the bathtub of room 525, exactly 20 years apart. Added bonus: There are great places to eat, drink and be merry nearby. Do your part to help "Keep Austin Weird"! Denver, Colorado Brown Palace - One of the spirits that is said to haunt the Brown Palace is a young boy, dressed in Victorian era clothing, who has been seen rifling through the luggage of hotel guests. During one of my stays there, I returned to my room to discover that little intruder looking inside my backpack that was sitting on a chair! When we saw each other, we both gasped and he instantaneously vanished, leaving me startled and wide-eyed! Added bonus: The hella haunted Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado is about an hour drive from downtown Denver. The stately hotel was the inspiration for author Stephen King's best selling novel, "The Shining," which he wrote after he and his wife were guests there. The hotel has been featured on numerous paranormal TV shows. Kansas City, Missouri area Belvoir Winery and Inn - This cozy and comfortable, yet quite elegant, 9 room bed and breakfast, with its 1,500 square feet bridal suite, is located in Liberty, Missouri on the site of a huge former Odd Fellows complex. The inn was once an orphanage, so the sights and sounds of children who once called this building their home are regularly seen and heard by Belvoir guests. Numerous television shows have filmed at the inn and on the property, including Kindred Spirits, Ghost Adventures, Ghost Hunters and American Pickers. Added bonus: Have a glass or two of Belvoir's wines or your favorite cocktail at the inn's lovely bar located on the main level. And visit George, the inn's "mascot," who just happens to be a real skeleton! New Hampshire Omni Mount Washington Hotel - Located in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, this property is simply spectacular! The most prominent spirit that is said to haunt the hotel is Princess Carolyn, former owner of the hotel, whose lovely suite is now available for guests to occupy. The hotel's dining room has a permanently set up table for Princess Carolyn in case she happens to stop in for lunch or dinner.  Added bonus: Sightings of the elusive Bigfoot have been reported in the area! Soak up the gorgeous scenery! Take the cog railway to the top of Mt. Washington. Go skiing on the nearby slopes during winter months. Boston, Massachusetts Omni Parker House Hotel - Rich in history and hauntings, the Parker house is the birthplace of Boston Cream Pie and Parker House Rolls! The Kennedy family, arguably America's "royal family," often visited this hotel. It is said that future president John F. Kennedy proposed to Jacqueline Bouvier at a table in the hotel's restaurant. At one time, civil rights activist Malcolm X, Vietnamese revolutionary leader Ho Chi Minh and celebrity chef Emeril Lagasse were employees of the hotel. While staying there, I was confused when I encountered the spirit of John Wilkes Booth, the man who assassinated President Abraham Lincoln. My encounter finally made sense when the hotel's historian told me that Booth had frequently stayed at the hotel and had even practiced firing his gun nearby. Added bonus: Granary Burying Ground (cemetery), final resting place of numerous Revolutionary War patriots, including Paul Revere, Samuel Adams and John Hancock, is nearby    Tampa, Florida area The Don Cesar - Affectionately known as "The Pink Palace" and located in St. Pete Beach, not far from Tampa on Florida's west coast, this hotel, like others on my list, is said to be haunted by its original owner. Wealthy New Englander Thomas Rowe built the hotel in 1925 in remembrance of his unrequited love for a lovely Spanish opera singer. The star crossed lovers are said to haunt "The Don," as are members of the New York Yankees baseball team, including Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig, due to the fact members of the team once stayed at the hotel during spring training. Other reported spectral guests include gangster Al Capone and World War II era soldiers who may have stayed (and died) there while the building was being used as a convalescent hospital for aviators and pilots. Added bonus: The hotel has a lovely Gulf of Mexico beach.  San Francisco, California Queen Anne Hotel - A charming Victorian era boutique hotel located in the Pacific Heights neighborhood. Both the public areas and guests rooms are furnished in an eclectic style. The hotel was once an exclusive boarding school for young ladies, as well as a brothel that housed "ladies of the night." The headmistress of the girl's school, Miss Mary Lake, reportedly haunts the hotel, sometimes unpacking suitcases, tucking guests in at night and singing to them while they fall asleep. The most haunted room is said to be room 410, which was once Miss Mary Lake's office. Voodoo queen Mary Ellen Pleasant lived across the street from the hotel in the 1800's and it is thought that perhaps her spirit also roams the halls of the Queen Anne. Added bonus: Enjoy all that The Golden Gate City has to offer! Ride a cable car; eat some great seafood at a waterfront restaurant; visit Fisherman's Wharf and the spectacular Palace of Fine Arts, built for the 1915 World's Fair. Portland, Oregon The Benson - A world class luxury hotel that is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Built by Simon Benson and opening its doors in 1913, it is believed that Mr. Benson is the primary spirit who haunts the hotel. He is frequently seen on the grand staircase, in the hotel bar and dining room, and on the 7th, 9th and 12th floors of the hotel. A small and mischievous little boy, whom people assume is the ghost of one of Benson's sons, often appears and plays pranks on hotel guests. The ghost of a former porter who worked at The Benson is also sometimes seems, as well as the spectral images of a lady in white (doesn't every haunted property have a lady in white? LOL) and a lady in blue. Added bonus: Take a trip to see the nearby and spectacularly beautiful Columbia River Gorge and Multnomah Falls! New Orleans, Louisiana Bourbon Orleans Hotel - Once the location of the Sisters of the Holy Family's convent, girl's school, medical ward and orphanage, the Bourbon Orleans is reportedly haunted by the spirits of those who resided there during that earlier time. A Confederate soldier has also been seen at the hotel, as well as a lonely ghost dancer, seen dancing solo in the hotel's ballroom. The 3rd and 6th floors are said to be some of the most haunted areas. Added bonus: Laissez les bon temps rouler and enjoy all of the delicious and decadent delights that The Big Easy readily serves up! Savannah, Georgia East Bay Inn - This stately old building was built in the mid-1800's and once housed the offices of cotton merchants, as well as warehouses for cotton. In the mid-1980's, the property opened as a charming inn with 28 guest rooms. The rooms are spacious, with wooden floors, exposed brick establishing walls and high ceilings. A friendly ghost named Charley, a former worker in the building, allegedly haunts the inn. It is claimed that he is heard walking the halls late and night and sometimes will jiggle the doorknobs. Witnesses have said that lights flicker and some of their personal belongings mysteriously disappear. Room 325, known as "Charley's Room," is said to be the most haunted. Added bonus: Is there really anyplace in Savannah that isn't haunted? Visit them all! Walk along River Street. Take a ride on the riverboat. Put on your walking shoes and visit Savannah's numerous squares. And don't miss a visit to the magnificently beautiful Bonaventure Cemetery. San Antonio, Texas The Menger Hotel - The land on which the Menger sits is part of the historic site of the Battle of the Alamo. It is said that between 32 and 45 ghosts haunt the Menger. (Who came up with that number?!?) Among those ghosts are Teddy Roosevelt; Sallie White, a former chambermaid at the hotel who was shot nearby by her common law husband and died on the hotel's 2nd floor; and Richard King, a cattle baron who often stayed at the Menger and died in his suite on the 3rd floor. If you are brave enough, you can stay in the King Ranch Suite where Richard King died and sleep in the same bed where he took his last breath! Added bonus: Visit The Alamo. Walk along the River Walk. Dine in some of San Antonio's fabulous eateries. San Diego, California (Coronado Island) Hotel del Coronado - The elegant hotel, located on Coronado Island, has a resident ghost named Kate Morgan. Kate was a guest at the hotel in 1892 and killed herself with a gun a few days after an ugly break-up with her male lover. Guests at the hotel have reported seeing Kate's ghost walking in the hallways and along the hotel's lovely beach. During my visits to the hotel, I always hope to encounter the spirit of Marilyn Monroe, who shot the film, "Some Like It Hot," on the property back in 1958. Added bonus: While in the San Diego area, pay a visit to the haunted Whaley House in Old Town San Diego, where you can also shop at some of the area's charming stores. Washington, DC Hay-Adams Hotel - Washington socialite Marian Adams, known by the nickname Clover, reportedly haunts the Hay-Adams. Clover was an amateur photographer who died after ingesting some of the potassium cyanide that she used while developing her photographs. Her death was ruled a suicide, but some believed that she had been murdered. The ghost of Clover Adams haunts the hotel's 4th floor. Maids have told stories of hearing a woman sobbing, calling out their names and asking "What do you want?" in unoccupied rooms. Some guests say that visits by Clover's spirit are accompanied by the scent of almonds. Potassium cyanide, which caused Clover's death, is extracted from almonds! Added bonus: Visit the many beautiful monuments in DC, as well as The Smithsonian and nearby Arlington Cemetery. 

[cela-astral-projection]

When you touch my weary head And you tell me everything will be all right You say use my body for your bed And my love will keep you warm throughout the night

Muriel woke to a supremely odd sensation. The sun was high and hot through the window. He must have been tired. He didn't generally sleep this late. This was well past "sleeping in".

He looked down, squinting, chin pressed to his chest. Celeste was between his legs, her chest against his stomach, running something across his torso. From nipple to nipple. He grunted, confused.

"Morning." She said, quiet, not ceasing.

He brought his hand up to hers, and she let him take it from her. He held the object in front of his face. One of his clay pieces. A fox. It was an older piece. One of the many that Asra had snagged from him years ago and kept in his little collection here in Nopal.

She sang, low, "The fox and his wife, without any strife, Cut up the goose with a fork and a knife..."

He shushed her, a finger at her lips. "Fox stayed home. And, unless you want me to fall back asleep, you have to stop."

She laughed. It was the long-standing family lullaby of choice. Asra had sung it to everyone at one time or another, and it just became a tradition. Muriel was as susceptible to succumbing to it as either of the girls, even singing it himself. He was unreliable when it came to the bedtime routine, passing out on the job.

His eyes wandered back up to the window. "How late is it?"

"Noon, maybe?" she said with a shrug.

"When is the last time we slept until noon?" he asked, rubbing a hand over his face. He reached up to place the little fox in the windowsill.

"Fucked if I remember."

He nudged her with his knee, and she disengaged from him, pulling the thin sheet around her naked body like a gown as she stood.

He sat on the edge of the bed, stretching. He cracked his neck from side to side, then twisted, popping his back. She looked on, wincing. He looked at her from the corner of his eye and laughed.

They chatted as they got ready for the day. About the girls, and work, his projects, Asra. He sat on the floor in front of her, she a kitchen chair, brushing his hair out and braiding it. "Nice to do this on someone who knows how to sit still and not cry like I'm murdering them." She said with a laugh. He gave a quiet, contented noise. He loved when she brushed his hair. She remembered a time when that was not the case. But, he was rather more pliant now than he had been.

They made breakfast together. It was too warm to consider cooking anything, so it was mostly fruit, cold cuts, cheese, nuts, and some crusty bread and butter.

They retreated to the back deck. It was warm, but there was some shade, so it wasn't unbearable. He had brought some of his woodworking tools to work on some little presents for the girls. She was reading some old journals that had been recovered from the palace, though she was still firmly restricted on what Muriel and Asra would allow her to read every day, afraid she'd be overwhelmed.

For the most part, they were genuine medical notes. A few sketches in the margins. Faces she recognized. Others she didn't. It was her writing, but it all felt very impersonal. A girl's handwriting. Curvy, loopy letters. At this point, she felt Asra and Muriel were making much ado about nothing. No headaches. She didn’t feel anything but irritation.  She hadn't suffered any pearl-clutching or fainting episodes. 

Muriel almost had, though, when she came across a short, but a clear, passage, detailing the loss of her virginity to a red-headed doctor that she worked with. The note was short and perfunctory. No declarations of love, or lifelong pledges of commitment. He had still choked a bit when he read it. She and Asra had both burst into uncontrollable laughter. After that, he asked to just hear the highlights, and for that particular memory to stay between the three of them.

She ran her fingers over a drawing in one of the margins, brow knitted. She knew this face as intimately as she knew her own, but she had no name for it. She sighed and turned the book to Muriel. "Long shot, but do you know who that is?"

He squinted at the page, then nodded, sitting back. "That's one of Lucio's guards. I didn't know him very well, but...he was nice. He used to run errands for you."

She turned the book back to herself, making a contemplative noise. "Do you know his name?"

"Aedan."

She rolled the name around in her mouth. It was just at the edge of her vision. On the tip of her tongue. It didn't click into place. She sighed throwing her head back, frustrated.

Muriel sensed it and stuck his hand out. "Give it here. You can look again later."

She rolled her eyes but relented. He laid the book down beside his chair and went back to his work.

She shook her head and stood up, he watched her as she went. Going from each of the little pots on the railing. Beautiful, healthy succulents. She busied herself taking cuttings and separating hens from the chicks. Something she could set by so the girls could help her plant them when they came. Some would need to be repotted, confined by their containers. Hearty little things and hard to kill, they were perfect starter plants for the girls.

It was almost evening, and she had made him commit to going into town for dinner. He was not thrilled by the idea, but, the idea of cooking was also unpleasant, so he relented. Nopal was much quieter than Vesuvia, so it wasn't a terrible prospect. Nobody knew him here, and not in the "look away and forget me" respect. They made their yearly trip, people fawned over Asra and Celeste with their "Oh, great Magician," and "Oh, great Enchantress," nonsense, and then they went home at the end of the week, no worse for wear.

They went to a small restaurant just off the town square. The sun was setting, and the sky was orange and purple, hazy clouds drifting slowly.

They sat at a cafe table. The restaurant must have had an excellent seafood vendor because they were presented with a mountain of crab.

It was cold, with warm butter and lemons. Muriel eyed it warily. It seemed like such a fussy food. He fumbled with a single leg, demolishing it, getting frustrated and abandoning the task. Celeste took it from him, eyebrow arched.

He watched her as she made quick work of the legs, totally ignoring the utensils they had been supplied. The meat slid cleanly from the shells, and she submerged them into the drawn butter. She speared a piece and fed it to him. He savored it. Sweet and briny. Pure luxury. "That's perfectly adequate." He said, smiling. "How'd you learn to do that?"

"Do what?" she said, taking a bite from her own small pile.

"Crack the crab like that?"

"Probably the same place I learned how to fish and hunt and cook. And we don't know where that was, so," She shrugged. "Maybe I'm just naturally talented."

He watched her face. She looked distant. They ate in silence for a while. Then, he ventured a question. "Do you want to know, about...before?"

She drew a deep breath. She replied, contemplative. "I don't know if any of it matters. It's not coming back. I have...so much. You don't remember everything about your childhood and what you do remember wasn't exactly happy." She raked a hand through her hair, looking off into the distance. "I am happy. I have a life that people only dream about having. I am so incredibly lucky. Every day that I am alive is a victory. It feels...ungrateful to look back and want something that I can't have. That I can't fix."

He reached across the table, and she put her hand in his, giving him a slight smile.

"It is okay for you to want things, Cela," he said, low and sweet. "All you have do is ask. I will go where ever and do whatever it takes. We all will. Just ask me."

She gave a weak half-smile. She felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and reached up to wipe them away. She cleared her throat and shook her head. "That's a big ask. I don't know how many big gifts someone is allowed in life."

She had her family. Her friends. Her work. Her very life. She was so very loved.

He squeezed her hand, tilting his head. "You know none of us would be here if it wasn't for you, right? None of this...is possible without the sacrifices you made for us. I don't mean the little everyday commitments..." he tried to search for words. It was hard to encompass everything she had done. To elevate your spouse to deity status. Someone so domestic. But, she was. She was a savior. "You...don't do what you have done for...everyone, and not get to ask for something as simple as your past. I can't believe that."

She scoffed a bit, dismissive. "You act as if I did it all single-handed. I didn't do anything that you wouldn't have done for me. We take care of each other."

He closed his eyes. It was an argument he wasn't going to win. She could deflect praise as well as he could, if not better. "All I am saying is that you don't have a limit. You deserve to have what you want. And I will fight to make sure you get it. Because I love you. You are worth the fight."

She was well and truly crying now. He threw a fist full of coins and crystals on the table, more than enough to cover the bill. He pulled her up and into his chest, planting a kiss on the top of her head. He knew not to feel bad about the tears. She was just a crier when she was overwhelmed. "Let's go."

She nodded, sniffing. He lead them out of the square, towards the outskirts of town.

When they got back to the house, she had settled. She splashed water on her face and took her hair down. Muriel sat on the edge of the bed, arms outstretched. She came to him, sitting in his lap. She felt so small in his embrace. Her head was on his shoulder. He rocked her back and forth, holding her firmly against his chest.

"You're going to help me?" She said, almost a whisper, eyes closed.

"Of course." He replied, kissing her forehead. "We're going to figure it out. I promise."

She ran her hand over his chest, resting it over his heart. They rocked for a long while. She sang, quietly, to herself. "The fox went out on a chilly night, he prayed for the moon to give him light..."

He hummed along with her, joining her with a deep voice when they came to his particular favorite part. "...He ran till he came to his nice warm den, And there were the little ones, eight, nine, ten. Sayin' Daddy, Daddy, better go back again..."

He sighed, and Celeste felt it too. They missed Asra. Especially here. Whispers of him everywhere. They both felt homesick. And they felt guilty. Enjoying each other while he was at home. They were good as a pair, but better together. And Asra was still days away. He had the good sense to put a five-day limit on it. And that still felt too long. And Celeste felt it. Asra missed them too. They had been together for far too long. It had seemed like a practical arrangement, but now, they just wanted each other. 

"Do you want to call him?" Celeste asked.

Muriel nodded, making a quiet noise. Relieved that he wasn’t alone. 

[silviasutton1989]

T.T.K. Ch. 21 Part 1  “Mad”

Yup... still here. If you all are still out there and still interested I apologize for my lack of consistency on here. I just got my laptop fixed so I’m hoping I can finish this story up soon.  

Summary: Liam now believes it’s Olivia that has been trying to kill him all along. But as Olivia’s Winter Festival kicks off that is the least of her worries. 

Rating: This chapter is rated MA  TRIGGER WARNING this chapter contains violence against women (and men) please be advised before continuing. 

Word Count: 2200

Catch up Masterlist (I will update this thing eventually I promise)

The King's shoes made a noticeable echo with each step he took deeper into the depths of the palace dungeon. Every guard bowed every staff member humbly acknowledging his presence.

"Your Majesty." They say. The king doesn't respond his mind in shambled circles. It was almost comedic to him to be finally killing the traitor who attempted to end his life and yet it was the one person he would have given his life for.

The king freezes. There she was her long red hair covering her head completely. Her dress tattered, her head bowed. From this angle she looked weak but he knew far too well she had all power over him. He opened his mouth to speak, to gain her attention, to demand she stand to her feet and explain how could she do this to him. That last thought made his voice squeak and silenced him.

"Cat got your tongue, Your Majesty?" Her voice voice so calm and unnerved as if she wasn't about to die in a matter of minutes. 

"I...I came to see if you wanted explain yourself. How could one of my highest ranking royals commit treason against their king. Why...why in God's name are a you laughing?! Are you mad woman? I am about to have you hanged and you laugh!"

Her chuckles grow even louder and it only fuels his anger even more. The King without a second thought opens the doors to the cell, takes his attacker into his arms and kisses her forcefully. The kiss softens and becomes gentle, almost as if an apology. And it was then, once they parted that her hard exterior faded. he could see the fear in her face he could finally see the girl he has loved since childhood, the woman he has secretly loved up until this day, and the ghost of the woman he would love till the day he himself died.

"Why did you do it?!" The king cries clutching her so tightly in his arms not caring that his guards were watching, his voice cracks as he sobs the words. His tears streaming down his face damping her red hair. She  backs away from him, quickly wiping away her own tears.

"I think you know why. I think you have known why all along.

 Liam's knee bobbed uncontrollably underneath the embellished table. Olivia's winter ball was splendid. The first day went off with out a hitch and he watched her host the nights festivities like a true royal. Any other time he would be proud of her, but tonight he was confused and angry and hurt. The cadence for the Cordonian Waltz began and as he expected, Olivia stood before him, beautiful and now knowing what he knew, dangerous.

"Liam, may I have this dance?"

Liam held her tighter than he knew he should have, trying his best not to look at her not to even breathe in her scent. It would weaken him and he knew that.

"You look well Liam. How have you been?"

"Hmm... I've been excellent. You know I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done after my father's death."

" You don't have to thank me." She smiles softly at him and he sucks in a breath.

"No you pretty much ran the entire court while I mourned my father. I mean how does one get a whole building of people to keep quiet on a former king's electrocution?"

"Just took a little assertiveness...and a firm clutch on things I guess." Olivia could feel his nails digging into her waist but tried to ignore the discomfort. 

"Yeah but why? Why hide that?  What did you hope to gain from covering my father's murder?" It was then Olivia finally saw the anger leering from his eyes.

"I did that for you Liam." She tries to keep her voice low as they both continue to spin apart then quickly back together across the dance floor keeping up with their best smile. "Do you want the government involved in this? We have been our own independent country for centuries but if they get a whiff of a monarch being killed it would be the end to Cordonia's monarchy for sure."

"Of course you are worried about the monarchy."

"If you have something to accuse me of, don't be shy come out with it." 

Liam stops dancing and so does Olivia they stand neither taking their eyes off each other, neither noticing the music continues without them. 

"I need to know where you were the night of the Homecoming Ball. You lied before. And Olivia, as your King I warn you not to do it again."

"Liam?" She felt his hand clutching her arm. He leaned in closer speaking into her ear.

"If you're going to try to kill me again just do it. Right here! Let everyone see you betray me."

"Again? You've gone mad!" She yanks her arm free and backs away. A new song begins to play and the guest all gather the dance floor creating more space between the two.

"You don't think I know about your little accomplice? I know he's here I know he's working for you Liv. When Bastien finds him I ---I will kill you if I have to Liv."

Her eyes widen at his threat. "You are just like your father!" She spats.

"Yeah I may be. But are you just like your mother?"

"Hey you two!" Riley steps between them smiling brightly holding her barley noticeable belly. "Drake finally let us out. I guess he felt Lythikos was the only safe place in Cordonia!" She chuckles but it soon dies once she realizes she the only one. Olivia and Liam were still staring daggers at each other. "Olivia can I speak with you for a moment. I'm um...having an issue with our room."  pulling her away, motioning for Drake to handle Liam.

"What is it Riley? What's so dauntingly wrong with your room?"

"Oh nothing I just saw World War 3 starting on the dance floor and thought it would be best to put some distance between you too. Olivia what is going on? I expected you two to be all over each other by now- I mean in an entirely different way than scowling at each other."

"Constantine's death changed Liam, I don't know. Don't ask me to explain the twisted workings of that man's mind. I mean honestly I think the man has lost his mind he actually thinks I--- I'm going to get some air." 

She leaves her concerned friend heading away from the party, not slowing her pace until she couldn't hear the music anymore. It was silent. Dead silent. Olivia found herself in an open balcony letting the crisp air chill her. She took several breathes barley hearing the faint sounds of footsteps approaching with her with Liam's words ringing in her ears. 

"You don't think I know about your little accomplice? I know he's here I know he's working for you Liv. When Bastien finds him I ---I will kill you if I have to Liv... But are you just like your mother?" .

She prayed it was Liam, or Riley behind her, but with the sound of the door locking she shuddered in the quick understanding that it wasn't. Instead of screaming in fear instead of turning around to face him, Olivia decided to watch her mountain tops. 

"How long?" How long have you been here?"

Mick walks as close to her as he pleased pressing his nose so deep in her hair breathing her in. 

"I've been waiting on you for months. I was so patient with you Red! But now..." His hands grip her shoulders. 

Olivia took another breath. She needed to calm herself. She let him breath in her hair one final time before leaning her head forward then rapidly swinging it back striking Mick square in the nose.  He howls staggering backwards giving Olivia just  enough space to run the door. In seconds she undoes the lock swinging it open before it's forcefully slammed back shut a strong grip onto her arm tossing her to the ground.

"See. This is why I came back for you Red! You haven't learned shit. Somebody has to teach you!"

Mick wastes no time in undoing his belt buckle a smirk on his face  before kneeling down with the duchess laying his whole body on top of her his hips pinning her to the ground. The sounds of her grunting against him only exciting him more.

 "So much fire in such a tiny body." His teeth clenches between the flesh of her neck biting down hard, as if she were meat. 

Olivia waited for her moment, thrusting her knee between his legs pushing him off of her as he cries out in pain. She runs towards the door again. But as she opens it she stops.

A thought creeps into her mind. A strange and devilish thought that turns her on her heels closing the door yet again.

"Mick." She walks back over to his hunched over body. "I don't think we have been properly introduced." She throws a quick kick to his side hard enough for him to plummet onto his stomach.

"I am Olivia Nevarkis!" She moves towards his head "Dutchess of Lythikos." spiking it  causing him to spin over to his back blood pouring from his forehead. "My blood is savage! My blood is fire!" Olivia places her heel deep within his neck smirking at the gurgling noises beneath her.  "My blood is ice! And you sir could NEVER break me."

Olivia drives her shoe in deeper not even noticing her balance faltering until Mick has her free foot in his grip tossing her onto the ground beside him.

He stands to his feet not wasting a second to grab the duchess pinning her to the wall clutching her red locks and throwing the back of her head into the concrete wall.  His eyes are bloodshot as he flings her body across the room. Paintings and vases all crash to the ground with her. Mick marches over picking her up one final time holding her against the wall with his hips. Both hands clasped around her neck.

"I guess we have a change of plans." He tightens his grip as Olivia squirms to breath "First I will kill you. Then I will...well you can guess that one." He smirks.

Fire is rising from Olivia's chest. Time is running out and she knows it. Just within reach is a candlestick holder. She stretches her arm out her fingertips barley graze the fixture. She reaches more...more ...just a little....But time is out and the room grows dark, her arm drops.  Her eyelids grow heavy, her last image is Mick's greedy eyes  before there's nothing left but the sound of crashed glass somewhere far away.

Breath.

The first freeing breath Olivia took was not only healing but painful. Her body hit the ground with a thud. But hers wasn't remotely the loudest. Like a dream there was Mick lying motionless on the ground next to her, pieces of glass scattered around his head.

"Olivia are you ok?!" Riley throws down the remaining glass vase to help her friend up. "I came to check on you and  I heard all this commotion. We need to call the guards before the attacker comes to."

"No! No...he's no attacker. Just a....a drunken employee of mine. He wasn't too happy about being fired tonight."

Riley looked over the Duchess questioningly. 

"Look, Riley thank you. You seriously just saved me but please don't tell anyone about this. I will handle him ok?"

Riley didn't have a moment to argue as Olivia scooted her out the room  and the door slammed behind her.

Riley couldn't shake what she had just witnessed. She went back to the party and the second she saw Liam sitting in a dark corner of the ballroom, with Bastien beside him she hurried right over.

"Liam I need to talk to you. Something is going on with Olivia. You need t--"

"Riley I am fully aware of what's going on with Olivia and once we find her accomplice my guards will be apprehending the both of them."

"Apprehend? You're gong to arrest Olivia? For what?"

"She's the person that has been set out to kill me from the very start! I didn't want to believe it but...it's all adding up now. It's been her all along. History just has a way of repeating itself doesn't it?" Liam laughs dryly as his gulps down the rest of his drink. I used to think my father was the cold one but he has nothing on a Nevarkis."

A tiny drip  onto Mick's forehead woke him, attempting to rise but his arms and legs are bound by restraints. 

"Fuck! Should have killed that bitch weeks ago." he mutters  struggling to pull himself free.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. " Olivia's voice echos throughout the dark room. "My great great great grandmother invented those cuffs. They are designed to tighten as the prisoner moves. Her idea of training them to remain still."

Olivia lights a kerosene lamp giving the room a little more light. With it Mike can now see the shine of the blade in The Duchess' hand and he smirks. 

"Red stop it. You know damn well you have no idea what to do with a knife. Now put that thing away before you hurt yours---"  Olivia flings the knife and it lands mere inches from Mick's head.  

"Oh Mick...poor poor Mick." Olivia steps closer to the slab removing the knife tracing Mick's body with the tip of the blade, a maddening look in her eyes. "Dear, the only person  getting hurt tonight is you."

Tagging: I tag randomly so if you would like to say tagged let me know if you never want to be tagged again let me know.

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[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Late (18)

T’Challa X Black Reader

Chapter Warning: Cursing, plot,

Word Count: 3892K

Note: Treat time!!!!! 2 more chapters left y’all. Oh man, I’m excited. Are you guys excited or feeling sad it’s almost over? Thank you guys so much for reading. 

***Loosely proofread/edited. I’m sorry in advance.

If you enjoyed this, please, please share it, like it, reblog it. ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

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

“Is this correct?” You asked Captain Rogers as he sat across from you in your office.

“Yes, it is correct. Tony used satellites to track the actions and this is everything that transpired. Steve assured.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. You rewound the video yet again and focused on the scene unfolding. Captain Rogers walked around to stand beside your chair and watched with you.

“I’m sorry we just looked at these since the events in Vienna things have been quite a mess.” Steve apologized. You knew the accords that made superheroes practically illegal unless they registered caused a lot of strife not only across the world but within the Avengers.

“I can understand.” You brought your attention to the part of the video that interested you more. There plain as day you saw her. Nakia.

“Isn’t that King T’Challa’s fiancé?” Steve asked. You clenched your jaw at the mention of T’Challa’s name and reference of a fiancé.

“Yes.” You confirmed. You and Steve watched her suspicious actions, she was across the street at the top of the building looking on through binoculars. Another approached her and joined in watching, another she recognized, W’Kabi. You zoomed in on the surveillance video already knowing how the events turned out inside the building.

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed. Nakia looked to W’Kabi and nodded. He took out a radio and spoke. You wished you could hear the words he said but almost instantly the building across from them exploded. You slapped your hand to your mouth as tears sprang to your eyes.

“Oh my god.” You watched the building shatter knowing T’Chaka was inside. You watched a smile spread across Nakia’s and W’Kabi’s faces before they turned to get off the roof.

“So it really was not Mr. Barnes!” You shouted out.

“No.” Steve answered.

“Oh my god, it was her, it was Nakia.” You sprang to your feet and began pacing your office pondering everything you’d just seen. Trying to make sense of it, trying to piece the little pieces together.

“Why? Why would she do this? Why would she want T’Chaka dead?” You asked yourself. Steve watched you.

“Maybe he wronged her?” He suggested.

“No, I’ve heard nothing of that. He loved her like a daughter, treated her like a jewel of Wakanda, his words not mine.” You informed.

“Why would she do this?” You wracked your brain trying to figure it out.

“Maybe he was in the way.” Steve stated. You stopped in your tracks thinking. You gasped several moments later.

“Steve. Yes. T’Chaka stood in the way of the marriage from happening. He was holding everything back. T’Challa told me this, he said his father saw the error of securing a marriage pact between him and the river tribe, he said he was holding the event from happening.” You informed.

“So if the king was holding back the ceremony then that would be a reason to kill him.”

“Oh my god, Nakia killed King T’Chaka, T’Challa’s father so the marriage could happen.” You pieced together.

“And that marriage is taking place in 3 days now.” Steve informed. Your head snapped to him.

“What!?”

“Yes, I received the royal invitation 2 weeks ago, we all did. You didn’t?” He asked. You clenched your jaw.

“I know you no longer work in Wakanda I thought that was a mutual decision being that you are still working at the embassy.” He assumed.

“I did not get an invitation.” You dryly responded turning your back. Everything spun in your head, everything you’d just uncovered. He doesn’t know you pieced together.

“He doesn’t know!”

“Of course he doesn’t, no man would marry the one responsible for the death of their father and I know T’Challa.” Steve confirmed. You went to press the kimoyo beads on your wrist only to remember they were taken from you before the jet left to return back to Wakanda 4 weeks ago.

“Shit!” You rushed to your computer and began to draft an email before pausing.

“This isn’t the kind of thing you send through email is it?”

“Not at all. This sort of thing has to be delivered in person, along with the evidence.” He informed.

You froze. That meant going back to Wakanda. Back to the palace where your life was in danger. It meant giving your assassin another chance to finish the job. Was that something you could do? By no means were you a punk but you also were not stupid. You were too smart for your own good. What were the chances you could sneak into Wakanda reminiscing to stealthy American spy and talk to T’Challa to show him the evidence. Surly being convicted of killing the prior king was enough to break a marriage pact. It was treason after all, and treason no matter where was punishable by imprisionment at least. Still you were frozen.

“You hesitate. Why?” Steve inquired. You shook your head and looked down.

“I have no means of contact with Wakanda.” You informed.

“I do.” Steve offered. You looked back over your shoulder to him.

“We have been trying to convince T’Challa of the importance of his joining the avengers especially with him wanting to open Wakanda to the world.” Steve explained.

“The Avengers? Sounds like something right up his alley, he always wanted to help others.” You said and smiled fondly remembering your many conversations of how he would separate his rule from that of T’Chaka. You looked back to the computer screen at the blank email.

“You have to do the right thing Y/N. T’Chaka’s deserves his murderer to be brought to justice.” Steve implored, working at your soft heart.

He knew you were softhearted. You’d been friends for almost 3 years now and he admired your admirable career path and when you first met him as Steve he told you many times. When you found out he was Captain America your head almost fell off your shoulders but the more you thought about it, you got it. Like T’Challa he was honorable to a fault.

“Damn it Steve.” You whispered. He touched your shoulder gently.

“If you need backup I’m sure we can all pitch in. I know Tony has been dying to prove he can break into the impenetrable country of Wakanda.” Steve teased.

You snorted laughed. Your first one in weeks. You knew Tony would do it and you knew it would annoy the hell out of T’Challa especially if you brought Sam. After a sly comment Sam made about T’Challa liking cats T’Challa hated him with a passion. After the two of you stilled from the laughter you sighed knowing you had to, death and dismemberment be damned.

“The things you do for love.” Steve said. You spun around to look at him again and he gave you an all knowing look. You scoffed, of course he’d pieced it together.

“Y/N, you’re not as slick as you think and he definitely isn’t as stealthy as a panther when it comes to his feelings.” Steve said.

You shook your head and paused hearing his statement echo in your head. You thought back to the attempts on your life. They all began once Nakia returned.

“Say that again Steve.”

“What? That it was obvious he was in love with you and that you were equally as in love?” He asked. Realization hit you like a ton of bricks, or like the oversized rhinos of the border tribe.

“Oh my god.” You whispered.

“What?”

“It was her.”

“Her? Who?” Steve asked filled with confusion.

“It was her, Nakia.” You filled in.

“Yes we just watched…

“No, no, Steve it was her who tried to kill me!” You shouted.

“What? She tried to kill you?”

“Yes, several times I believe. It was her! She killed T’Chaka to get him out the way and seeing that T’Challa loved me as clear as day as you say she saw it as a threat so she had to get rid of me too because T’Challa…

“Would never want her uncontested unless you were dead to pose no threat or competition.” Steve filled in. You spun around to face him eyes wide, meeting his equally wide baby blues.

“It makes sense.” Steve backed. You immediately felt rage fill you, you felt as if you could kill a mountain lion, or better yet a bitch war dog.

“Who is your contact in Wakanda Steve?” You said through gritted teeth.

“Besides T’Challa, Okoye.”

You looked like death as you rose again from your seat.

“I will tear the bitch apart!”

*************** 

The echoing he heard was muffled the voices sounded like they were far away. Or was he the one that as far away.

“T’Challa.”

He opened his eyes and looked around, he was in the ancestral plane. The beautiful aurora borealis lights in the sky was obvious. He spun around feeling he was not alone. He came face to face with his father. They stood there taking the other in.

“Baba!” He hurried to him and embraced him. T’Chaka patted his back lovingly.

“My son.” T’Challa closed his eyes feeling the joy run through him. Oh how he missed his father. Missed his knowledge and guidance.

“I miss you baba.” He admitted.

“I know my son. What are you doing?” He asked. Pulling away T’Challa looked upon his face trying to grasp his meaning.

“You miss me so much you would take your own life?” T’Chaka asked. T’Challa looked down.

“You look down to no one. Answer me.” T’Challa raised his head and looked at his father face to face with his disappointed face.

“Father I-“ He began.

“I do not want your apologies. I want your responsibility T’Challa.” T’Challa swallowed harshly. He remembered as a child when he got in trouble his father never wanted an apology instead he wanted him to take responsibility for his actions and the actions leading up to it, then he wanted correction.

“I am lost.” He admitted out loud. T’Chaka’s expression softened as he nodded.

“I have lost my way.” 

“Every man loses his way, every King loses his way my son. What you are doing is not the answer.” T’Challa nodded looking off to the distance. He knew it was not the answer.

“I know.” 

“Your balance, your center is gone. I see it, you are hollow. Who knew Y/N held so much importance.” He teased. T’Challa looked at him shocked.

“Oh T’Challa you were horrible at covering it up. You’ve always been horrible at hiding anything from your mother or I. We saw it plain as day.” T’Chaka explained chuckling. T’Challa smiled to himself before the same smile disappeared.

“She’s gone.”

“Yes.”

“She was my center, my balance. I didn’t know it before, I know it now.” T’Challa admitted. 

“At least you know it now. Now you know what it feels like to have your center and to be without it. Now you will fight to ensure you never loose it again.”

“Father, I have already lost her. She is gone. Gone back to America. She is lost to me. My duty is here.”

“Your duty is here correct, the panther’s duty is here, you though T’Challa, your duty is to your heart. You are man and panther, selfless to a fault and just as selfish. That which centers you, aids with the balance of the two.” He explained. T’Challa stood perfectly still grasping his meaning. He sighed out.

“How can a King follow his heart while doing his duty at the same time father?  T’Chaka smiled and touched T’Challa cheek patting it.

“That is the trick you must figure out my son. It is the same thing I had to figure out, the same every king and panther must figure our for themselves.” T’Chaka smiled warmly.

“I do not want to make the wrong decision, I do not want to bring dishonor to your name father, or the country.” T’Challa admitted. 

“My name is cemented in history T’Challa. My time has come and gone. It is your time now. Your name, your history you are making. Your decisions, your country. It is yours. Yes every man wants to be a good King, but remember-“

“It is hard for a good man to be a good king and a good king to be a good man.” T’Challa filled in. T’Chaka nodded.

“I want to be both, I want to be a good king and a good man.” T’Chaka smiled widely.

“So I guess you now know the impact you want to leave on history. All you have to do is make your decisions with that in mind. What centers you my son?” 

T’Challa took a deep breath in and thought of you. 

“She does.”

“More importantly, your love for her. Love is your center T’Challa, she is your anchor to that love which makes her the center of you. All you do is make every decision as king and as a man through love. Not through despair or anger or even duty and honor.” T’Chaka drilled home. 

T’Challa grasped his meaning. “You will be fine my son.” T’Chaka said before he turned away from him and walked away back to the tree in the distance that housed the other panthers. 

“I fear I am not ready.” T’Challa voiced.

“You are, I’ve seen it for a while, all that is left is for you to see it. Remember T’Challa fight for what you love, your heart, your panther’s heart is a strong one. Do not fight it. Allow it to merge with yours.” T’Chaka’s voice was becoming more and more distant. He turned around finally at the tree is eyes glowed yellow, the eyes of his panther.

“T’Challa, do not come back here, it is not your time!” 

Just like that he morphed into a panther and in the same breath he began to ran toward T’Challa. T’Challa watched in amazement. His father’s panther did not stop only inched closer faster. He watched it leap into the air toward him.

“Go!” The deformed voice of an animal and man shouted before the panther landed on top of him. 

T’Challa gasped loudly leaping up.

“T’Challa!” He looked around from side to side becoming aware he was in the medical wing of the palace and not the ancestral plane. 

“It is all right, it’s okay.” Ramonda assured shaking him out of the haze. He looked at her. She saw the yellow glow of the panther’s eyes. She was familiar with this and showed no fear. 

“You are okay, you are T’Challa. Say it, tell me who you are.” She coaxed. T’Challa raised his mouth in a snarl and felt the animalistic urges course through him. 

“Tell me who you are!” Ramonda shouted again. T’Challa gripped the bed and squeezed breaking the strong material as if it was nothing more than cracker. He closed his eyes hearing the echoing voice of his father.

“Do not fight it. Allow it to merge with yours.”

T’Challa shouted out, the loudness of the shout echoed off the walls shaking them. Ramonda squeezed his upper arms more forcefully trying to do for him what she’d done for T’Chaka time and time again. Ramonda knew she would not be as successful as you would be but she had to try. The Dora Milaje rushed in ready to assist with Shuri hot on their heels.

“Mother!” She shouted.

“It’s all right!” Ramonda shouted trying to calm them.

“T’Challa!” She shouted again. He stopped shouting giving everyone some relief until they saw the eyes of the panther.

“Kumkani!” Okoye began. He zeroed in on her and flared his nose raising his mouth again in a snarl.

“Brother, snap out of it!” Shuri shouted.

“Tell me who you are T’Challa!” Ramonda shouted. 

He looked back to her and his head and heart filled with immense pain. Pain he’d never felt before. He shouted again before dropping back onto the hospital bed. His body began seizing. Everyone n the room leapt into action fighting to hold him down. He was strong, too strong. 

“T’Challa!” he shouted.

“again, Tell me who you are!”

“King T’Challa!” He shouted again before the seizing stopped. Everyone panted for air. He opened his eyes and everyone was relieved to see his deep brown eyes. Ramonda audibly gasped out dripping her head to his chest.

“Oh bast thank you.” She exclaimed. T’Challa looked around at everyone he loved, the only person missing was you. He was overcome with the sudden urge to fight. 

“Fight for what you love.” 

His fathers words echoed in him. He would fight. 

********

“Really, the dude who dresses up as a cat? You’ve got to be kidding me Y/N.” Sam pressed as you were seated on the quinjet next to him and around those who’d signed up to help sneak you into Wakanda undetected.  You pressed your lips together but didn’t answer.

“Man, what the hell is going on? Even he’s getting play?” Sam continued, Steve and Tony laughed at him. 

“What does he have that I don’t?” Sam asked.

“Well a  whole country for starters.” Tony stated.

“I cool suit.” Steve added.

“I have wings, I can fly.” Sam pointed out.

“He also has more money than either of us have combined.” Tony added. You pinched you lips again.

“So that’s what it takes Y/N, a country, a cool suit and money? For some reason I though you had more substance.” Everyone said oh at Sam’s dig.

“Well Sam, he does have all of that but what he really has that you don’t is a really, really big…” You began, Sam’s eyes widened as well as everyone else on the jet.

“And sexy…dip.” You finished. 

Everyone laughed loudly. Sam looked relieved.

“He does, have you seen the man walk, it’s a thing of art.” You added. 

“Man, I was straight ready to jump out this jet without these wings shouting lord take me now.” 

We laughed some more as the quinjet made it’s breech into Wakanda behind the shields. The sun was setting and you sighed looking out the window at your home. 

“Wow, is it always this beautiful?” Sam asked. You nodded while smiling.

“Always.” You confirmed. Sam watched the animals frolic across the field and the beautiful waterfalls and he smiled. 

“I guess if I have to loose you to anyone, I’d be okay if it were him.” Same said. You looked at him quizzically.

“Loose me? Sam we never had a relationship.”

“In my head we sure did and we had one hell of a run. Hope you don’t mind I’m going to tell everyone I ended things.” He said before walking away. You scoffed and shook your head. 

The jet did not go into the hanger-bay instead it went around the mountain to the cliff where the best sunset could be seen. The walls of the mountain opened as if on queue. The jet hovered before descending inside the mountain on the landing strip. Once the engines died down and the doors to the jet opened you saw Ayo, Okoye, E’KeNe, D’GaBo standing there with their spears with stoic looks on their faces. Once they realized it was you their faces immediately broke out into broad smiles.  

“Y/N!” Okoye breathed out.

“Y/N” Shuri shouted before running toward you. You smiled as well and rushed out to greet her. She threw her arms around you and hugged you forcefully.

“Hello Shuri.” The Dora milaje warriors joined in on the embrace completely breaking protocol and character, none of them cared. Steve, Tony and Sam stood back and watched the tender reunion. 

“What are you doing here?” Shuri asked.

“We expected Captain Rogers.” Okoye filled in.

“Steve helped me put this all into motion. It had to be in secrecy.” You explained.

“It’s not safe here.” Ayo filled in.

“I know, but I have news and I had to come. They came with me to ensure my safety.”

“What news?” Ramonda asked as she approached the group. 

“Queen mother.” You said saluting her. She walked straight to you and pulled you into her arms. You smiled.

“Welcome home my child.” You nodded.

“There is much to discuss.” You said.

“Cloak the jet, and go with D’GaBo and E’KeNe they will ensure you are not spotted.” Okoye ordered to half of the Avengers. 

They nodded and followed. You walked with Shuri and Ramonda toward a door you’d never used.

“These are my tunnels. Only I know about them and only I know how to maneuver them.” Shuri said with a smile. You smiled back and hugged her again.

“I’ve missed you Shuri.” She smiled and led the way through the hidden tunnels. 

Every turn that was made was quickly rearranged as the corridors changed their direction similar to the tracks of a railroad. After nearly 10 minutes Shuri peeked her head out looking from side to side. Once she saw no one she signaled it was safe. You stepped out behind her and her mother and scurried toward a separate door. The three of you hurried inside ensuring to lock the door behind you. Once safely inside you hugged them both again. 

“What was so important that you risked your life coming back?” Ramonda inquired.

“There is something I need you to watch.” You responded with a solemn expression. 

You dug inside your pocket and took out the thumb drive. Walking to the computer you loaded the thumb drive and prepared the video. You glanced back to the two women who’s world was going to be shattered. You sighed and pressed play on the video. You stepped back allowing them full view of the events that transpired in Vienna. 

You watched their expressions and saw the moment Ramonda spotted the bitch. Shuri took her in a few moments after. She lunged to the computer and typed in some codes within moments the video was now playing on Shuri’s kimoyo beads projection in life-size imagery. Both their eyes were glued to the video. 

“Is that-“ Shuri began before she angled the video for a better view. 

The new angle provided irrefutable evidence that it was Nakia and W’Kabi in that building. You watched them further already knowing the contents of the video by heart. When the building began to explode Ramonda released an audible, gut wrenching gasp. The gasp of shock and utter pain watching her husband, the man she loved being killed. 

“Baba.” Shuri whispered as tears welled in her eyes. 

Ramonda began to cry which prompted Shuri’s tears to flow freely. As the video ended with Nakia and W’Kabi’s departure the two women embraced and cried together. Your heart broke for them. It was one thing for you to see it, you loved King T’Chaka as a great ruler and man but he was not your father, or your husband.

“Mother.” Shuri gasped. Ramonda wiped her tears as she tried to comfort Shuri.

“How did you get this?” Ramonda asked.

“Steve provided it to me, after reviewing the eyewitness reports and trying to piece together what went wrong in preparation for the upcoming accords I decided to go back and this is what I found.” You explained.

“What were they doing there?” Shuri asked. You looked down not wanting to be the one to say it.

“Signing their death warrant.” Ramonda informed with an angry, sinister look etched on her face. To Be Continued…..

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