#im coiled and taut and ready to snap

[naffeclipse]

Does your shoulder feel like this?

It's about to sobs

[velarisdusk]

Indelicate Distraction

Day 15: Distracted Sex | Azriel x Reader word count: 2.2k author's note: this turned into much more than i was planning, but im so so happy with it :) i love azriel, and i love the thought of him pouring himself into reports late into the night like ugh thats so lip bite ✦ . Kinktober Masterlist . ✦

Azriel sat behind his desk, his brow furrowed in deep concentration as his eyes skimmed over the intelligence reports scattered in front of him. His shadows coiled lazily around his form, reacting to his every thought as he plotted the Night Court’s next course of action in the war against Hybern.

You stood in the doorway, admiring him as he worked. The flickering faelight highlighted the sharp angles of his face, the taut muscles under his leathers as he leaned over the desk. He was so focused, so consumed, that he didn’t notice you enter. 

Or maybe he did but chose not to acknowledge you. His shadows, however, weren’t so discreet. They brushed against your legs in greeting as you approached him, a soft caress that never ceased to send a shiver up your spine. 

“Azriel,” you purred softly, perching on the edge of his desk. His focus didn’t waver, his fingers still tracing the map before him. 

You leaned closer, your fingers trailing lightly over his shoulder. “You’ve been at this for hours…”

“I’m nearly done,” he murmured, not looking up. His voice was low, rough with hours of silence, but it was the way his shadows seemed to tighten around your legs that betrayed him.

With a smirk, you moved behind him, your fingers brushing his neck and shoulders. His wings twitched in response, but still, he kept reading. No. That wouldn’t do.

“You don’t mind if I help you relax a bit, do you?” you whispered, lips ghosting his ear.

This time, his breath hitched. And you knew you had him.

Without another word, you slid into his lap, feeling his muscles tense beneath you. He was trying to stay focused — his hands still gripping the edge of the report — but his body couldn’t lie. Not to you. His hips shifted beneath you, betraying the control he prided himself on. 

You settled yourself more firmly in his lap, your body pressing against his, heat blooming between you. One of his shadows curled around your waist, pulling you closer even as Azriel’s hands remained stubbornly on the parchment, his brow furrowed in concentration. You could feel the tension rolling off him, his control hanging by a thread.

With slow, careful movements, you trailed your fingers down his chest, over the hard planes of his muscles, lower and lower, until you reached his waistband. He was already hard beneath you, and you smiled against the side of his neck. “You seem distracted.”

His breath hitched, but still, he didn’t respond. Not verbally, at least. Instead, one of his hands finally left the reports, gripping your hip tightly. The tension in his body was palpable now, a tight coil ready to snap. 

“You’re always so focused,” you murmured, your lips grazing the sensitive skin behind his ear. “Always so caught up in your work.”

Your fingers worked the fastenings on his pants, pulling his cock out and wrapping your fingers tightly around it. The reaction was immediate — Azirel groaned, low and rough, his hips bucking up into your hand despite himself. 

“Is it hard to concentrate?” you teased, stroking him slowly, torturously, as his grip on your hip tightened. His shadows responded to his building arousal, coiling around your legs, sliding up your thighs and under your clothes with cold, featherlight touches. You moaned softly, arching your back to press closer to him. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he growled, voice strained as if he were fighting to keep his focus on his work.

“Am I?” you whispered, moving your hips in slow circles, teasing him just as much as your hand was. “I thought you liked a challenge.”

He released the papers and grabbed you with both hands, pulling you hard against him. His lips found your neck, teeth scraping over your pulse point as his hips thrust up against you. You gasped, your hand tightening around him as his shadows wrapped tighter around your waist.

With a swift motion, Azriel stood, turning you and bending you over the desk. The cold surface pressed against your chest as he pinned you there with his body. Your breath caught in your throat as his hands moved to your hips, tugging your pants and underwear down just enough to expose your throbbing sex to him. You could feel the heat of him against your bare skin, the hard length of him pressing between your legs as he nudged them apart. 

He didn’t rush. Instead, one of his hands slid back up your body, brushing your hair aside as he leaned over you. His chest was warm against your back, his breath hot in your ear as he whispered, “Stay still.”

You didn’t have time to respond before he straightened up again. One hand remained on your hip, fingers digging into your skin, while the other casually reached for the report he’d been reading. He didn’t even pause as he picked it up, his fingers skimming over the lines of text as though nothing was amiss. 

But you could feel the way his body was coiled with tension, the way his shadows danced along your thighs. And then, without warning, he thrust into you in one swift, hard movement. You cried out, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk as the stretch of him filled you completely.

Azriel groaned softly, a low rumble of satisfaction, but his attention remained on his work. His hips moved in slow strokes, setting an agonizingly slow pace that had you gasping with every thrust. Every time he moved, you felt how he held himself back, his movements measured and precise, even as he buried himself inside you.

He leaned forward slightly, his free hand pressing the report to the desk next to your head. You could hear the faint rustle of paper as he continued reading, his voice low and detached as he muttered something about troop movements.

But then his hand shifted, grabbing another piece of paper. You heard him hum thoughtfully as he scanned the new document. Before you could even react, he dropped the paper on your back, letting it rest there as if you were an extension of his workspace.

It sent a wave of heat through you. His casual dominance, the way he used you, not breaking his focus or rhythm as he fucked you over his desk. You gasped out a moan as he picked up the pace, his thrusts growing harder, faster, but still controlled. His free hand came to rest on the small of your back, right on top of the paper he’d set there, holding you firmly in place. The added weight, both literal and figurative, only made you tremble more, your body arching against him as you fought to maintain some semblance of composure. 

Azriel chuckled, the sound dark and low, as if he could feel your struggle. “You wanted my attention,” he rasped, his hand squeezing your hip and planting a firm smack on your ass as he pumped into you faster. “Now you have it.”

You whimpered, your body tightening around him as his words sent a fresh wave of heat through you. His hand pressed harder against your back, pinning the paper there as his hips snapped forward with even more force. Each thrust sent the paper rustling against your skin.

“You’re so quiet,” he murmured, his voice almost mocking as he thrust into you again. “What happened?”

You tried to respond, but your words were swallowed by a moan as he shifted his angle, hitting that perfect spot inside you that made your knees buckle. Your fingers scrambled for purchase on the desk as his pace grew relentless, his control fraying with every powerful thrust. Without warning, Azriel grabbed a paper and shoved it in front of your face, the rough texture crinkling against your cheek as he thrust into you again.

“Read this for me, will you?” His voice was infuriatingly calm, almost bored as if he wasn’t currently buried inside you, driving you to the brink of sanity. “You… What?” you stammered, the words barely a gasp as his hips snapped forward once more. You tried to focus, your vision swimming, but the pleasure coursing through you made it impossible to form a coherent thought, let alone read.

Azriel clicked his tongue, amused by your struggle. “The report, sweetheart. Read it to me. I need to cross-check some numbers.”

He adjusted the paper in front of you, the words blurring as your mind tried to catch up. Your body trembled under the relentless rhythm of his thrusts, and you struggled to even make sense of the words on the page. But his hand pressed it firmly against the desk, demanding your attention, even as he slammed against you and ground his hips into yours. 

“I… can’t,” you choked out, the pressure inside you building to unbearable levels. Your voice was breathless, shaky, as you desperately tried to focus on the lines of text in front of you.

Azriel’s hand came up to your neck, wrapping around your throat as he leaned over you. His lips crushed your ear, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “Try harder.”

The command sent a chill down your spine, and you swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to focus despite the overwhelming pleasure. You could feel him watching you, waiting, as though he had all the time in the world. His pace slowed just enough to make you think you could actually read, but every hard thrust stole your breath and focus again.

Your eyes skimmed the document as best as you could. “The– the units are, uh… a-advancing from the — oh gods — from the southeast and…”

Azriel chuckled softly, the sound dark and indulgent, as his hand on your throat tightened slightly. “You can do better than that. Read it properly.”

You whimpered, the mixture of his control and your own helpless arousal setting every nerve in your body alight. You forced your gaze back to the report, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts as you tried again. 

“The units… f-from the southeast… are — fuck, Azriel — positioned near the intersection of the Spring, S-Summer, and Autumn borders… They’ve…” you trailed off as another moan tore from your lips, your fingers digging into the edge of the desk as he slammed into you again, harder this time. You tried to turn and face him, but his hand on your throat quickly turned you back around before you could catch more than a glimpse of him looking over the strategy map beside you on the desk. 

His shadows tightened around your thighs, keeping you steady as his thrusts continued, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. But still, he glanced at the paper in front of you, expectant. “Keep going,” he murmured, his tone almost lazy, as if he wasn’t making you come undone with every snap of his hips. 

“They’ve increased n-numbers by nearly…” Your voice faltered again, trembling as pleasure wracked your body, making it nearly impossible to speak. “Nearly eight thousand.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Azriel hummed, still maddeningly calm as he flipped the page with his free hand, his pace never faltering. He scanned the new document, completely at ease, while you struggled to even form a sentence. “Now tell me — what’s the next section say?”

You only moaned in response, your head falling forward onto the desk as he thrust into you again, hitting that spot that made you see stars. Your fingers clawed at the desk, desperate for something to hold onto, but your voice failed you.

Azriel chuckled, low and dark. “What’s wrong? Too distracted?” His grip on your neck tightened a bit more as he continued. “I thought you wanted to help.”

“I– Fuck, I can’t,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as the pleasure built inside you, threatening to spill over. “Azriel, please…”

He hummed thoughtfully as if considering your plea. “Hmm. Maybe you’ve earned a break.” His scarred hands came to grip your hips firmly, pulling you back against him with each thrust. His pace quickened, any pretense of restraint now gone, and the force of his thrusts had you seeing white.

“Come for me,” he growled. The command in his voice, coupled with the relentless rhythm of his body, sent you over the edge.

Your release hit you with a force that left you trembling, gasping his name as your body tightened around him. Azriel followed with a groan, his grip on your hips bruising as he buried himself inside you one last time, spilling into you.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your ragged breaths and the soft rustle of papers beneath you. Azriel slowly loosened his hold on you, his body still pressed against yours as he caught his breath.

Finally, he pulled out, his hands smoothing over your back as he helped you straighten. He tugged your pants back up with a surprising gentleness before stepping around to face you. 

You could barely form a coherent thought, your legs weak and your heart still racing. Azriel, on the other hand, looked as composed as ever, a slight smirk playing at his lips as he glanced down at the papers scattered across the desk, and around you on the floor. 

“You did well,” he said, almost teasing. “Though I think next time, I’ll just handle the reports myself.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@starlightazriel @nvdax @halo-hanging @paleidiot @kismet27

@mellowmusings @gracielacie @d3ad-ins1de @loviseamms @inkedinshadows

@natasha153 @deathdoordoctor @spacebananabud @secretsicanthideanymore @edance2000

@lorosette @alykatv @honethatty12 @hellabizzy @serena-capella

@acoazlove @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @scorpioriesling @hannzoaks @confusedsezure

@elenapri0502 @anneas11 @mrsjna @lilah-asteria @randomgurl2326

@scarsandallaz @julesvanslutta @fourthwing4ever

[lovethoery]

pairing: nonidol!jeno + fem!reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: smut! please read at your own risk ♡ also just very soft n fluffy for the most part. it gets a little mean at the end but it’s all consensual and discussed before hand!!! promise.

kinks: slight puppy play, mentions of pegging and strap-ons, dominant reader, submissive jeno, mommy kink, vaginal sex, established relationship, no protection (pls b safe!!), dirty talk, fingering, ♡ big dick jeno ♡, breeding (the reader says not to, but i promise they’ve talked it over and it’s actually okay), mention of pussy eating, name calling?, tummy bulging, drooling.

a/n: i have not been able to stop thinking abt subby puppy jeno... he’s just so good... im not a dom, but for jeno (and mark)? i’ll do anything. this is very much self-indulgent. no i’m not sorry.

jeno’s hips can’t help the way they fuck into your hand, eyes fluttering shut from the feeling. it’s just so good, and he hasn’t gotten his dick wet in months.

“and whose fault is that?” you coo, leaning forward to get in the boy’s face. jeno’s ears are a bright pink, chest and neck beginning to adopt the same hue. he gulps, looking down to where your fingers are wrapping around his length, working him up and down.

“m-mine...” he whispers, mouth parting open as his eyes flutter shut.

“unh-unh. eyes on me, mutt,” you order. jeno’s nothing if not obedient, though, and he opens his eyes quickly, whimpering. “do you wanna fuck mommy?” you can’t miss the way jeno’s eyes light up; it’d be impossible to miss it.

he’s pressed up against the headboard of your shared bed, shirt tossed in a corner somewhere. his jeans are unbuttoned and shoved down messily, boxers still confining most of your boyfriend’s cock. jeno looks an absolute wreck, and you can see the way the thought of being inside your pussy causes him to sink deeper into his fucked out state.

raising a hand, you brush the hair out of his face gently, jeno’s tongue brushing past his lips to wet them. your fingers itch to push past those pretty pillows and make him gag, but you figure you’d save it for later.

“yes or no, angel?”

jeno’s mouth opens wider, then closes. he looks around as if you’re baiting him, but then he speaks softly. “yes...”

“yes what, pup?” your eyes bore into his, daring him to look away when you’re practically dangling a bone in his face—something so sweet and savory. a chance he doesn’t get often.

“yes, mommy,” jeno breathes, eyes wide and borderline innocent. borderline only because you know what he’s really like—desperate, needy, trying everything in his power to keep from breaking any rules you may have set forth tonight. “please let me fuck you...”

the boy beneath you is practically vibrating from the prospect of being inside you once again. he hasn’t been allowed to fuck you as of late due to poor... technique.

“mmm...” you hum, straightening your back to sit up, taller than him; looking down on him like the mutt he is. “do you think you can do a good job? surely with how much mommy’s fucked you, you must’ve learned something, right, puppy?”

jeno whimpers, loud and high in his throat, head moving forward to rest his face in your chest. the boy mouths at your shirt, nuzzling into you. you can’t help but bring your hands to card through his hair, petting him gently. jeno is your most precious boy, after all. “oh, puppy... okay, okay... you can fuck mommy.”

moving off of his lap, you begin to pull your clothes from your body, only to be stopped by jeno. “let me, please...” always such a good boy, you think.

jeno’s fingers tremble when he brings them to the drawstring on your shorts, despite how deft and nimble they typically are. it makes you giggle, laying on your back to allow him to pull the shorts from your legs. he moves slowly, almost like he’s still unsure about it all. you coo, reaching for his wrist. you thumb over the protruding bone, reassuring in your gentle movements. he nods in understanding, spreading your your legs wide to play with your pussy, admiring the way it glistens with your essence.

a sigh slips from the both of you when jeno sinks in his middle finger, and you giggle again. jeno’s eyes snap towards you, making sure he’s doing alright before he’s wiggling the digit carefully. his thumb moves to hook onto your clit, drawing gentle circles. he’s working you up, just like you’d taught him to when you first started having sex.

you moan softly, jeno’s middle finger beginning to crook, searching for your g-spot. your back arches when he finds it, toes curling and the boy between your legs can’t help the way his tongue starts to loll out of his mouth, practically salivating at the display before him. he’s never seen something so beautiful in his entire life, and his cock throbs from where it sits half-way out of his underwear. a blurt of pre-cum spills from the tip and you grin lazily.

“and here i thought i was the only one who was wet... but you’re dripping over there, baby,” you breathe. your voice is pitched up just a little, head tilting back. you miss the way jeno’s eyes flutter shut at your words, embarrassment flooding his bones.

“can i add another finger?”

you nod at his question, praising him for being so good, remembering to ask before doing. you’ve taught him so well, how to be the best boy be can be, and jeno beams under it. he takes the permission granted to him and slips his ringer finger in next, scissoring them wide.

a whine falls from your lips, legs spreading wider as you clench around the digits. “fuck, that’s so good,” you moan, eyes moving to lock on jeno’s. you grin again, teeth on display and jeno whimpers, kissing your bent knee. moving your foot, you press it up against jeno’s cock, biting your lip in satisfaction when jeno’s hips jolt.

“hurry up, puppy. get mommy ready for your big cock so you can fuck her nice and good.”

jeno doesn’t need to be told twice, fingers beginning to speed up after adding a third, pumping in and out of you. you moan louder, head falling back against the mattress. the coil in your abdomen tightens, spring loaded and ready to snap when jeno’s thumb speeds up its circles on your bud. your hips buck up, whines falling from your mouth as you get closer and closer, falling from the edge when jeno takes initiative and gives you that fourth finger, cupping your pussy as he stretches you wide and makes you cum.

it’s with soft whines and pretty cries that you cum, back arched taut like a bowstring and jeno thinks he could cum untouched, just from the sight alone. he has, if he remembers correctly. but not right now. right now, jeno needs to be inside you.

without even thinking, jeno’s quick to pull his hands away, shoving his pants and briefs down enough for his cock to fall out, heavy and thick between his legs.

your eyes are hazy as you look up at him, still coming around from your orgasm when jeno shoves his length into you. your eyes widen, mouth falling open as he starts to thrust, eyes watering from the stretch. “f-fuck!” you cry, back arching again. it burns, but you’re too preoccupied with the pleasure that builds behind your belly button again.

four fingers are never enough when it comes to stretching you out, another reason why you prefer to fuck him, and not the other way around. that, and every time jeno gets his cock in you, it goes like this.

the boy between your legs is practically jackhammering into you, hips moving like a piston into you over and over again. his eyes are closed and his tongue hangs from his mouth, drool coating his chin. his eyes open and close, looking down at you. jeno’s so far into his own headspace, there’s nothing in his eyes but desire and a need to breed you.

“j-jen... puppy, you’ve gotta slow d-down—oh, my god...” you try, hand moving to press against his tummy. it’s damp with sweat, tensing over and over from a mix of exertion and undying pleasure. jeno, despite your pleas, shows no sign of slowing. it feels like he begins to move even faster, balls slapping against against you.

the room is filled with the sound of skin against skin, your pussy squelching loudly as it tries to adjust to jeno’s width.

he stops for a moment, moving the two of you around. jeno moves with your legs tossed over his forearms, pulling you closer and up into his lap. with your feet up in the air, you feel a little burn of shame, not used to being manhandled in this way, though you know in the back of your mind you could easily take back control if needed.

jeno seems to only get rougher, pushing back into with a one-track mind. you know that look when he looks at you again. he wants to cum inside you.

“no,” you warn, hand tangling into his hair and pulling roughly.

jeno leans forward with a cry, face burying itself in your chest, knees pressing to your chest. you groan with the stretch in your thighs and waist, but shake it off, pushing it to the back of your head when you feel soft lips pressing against the base of your throat. teeth scrape across your skin, biting down.

with your legs locked up between your bodies, you have no way of pushing jeno away. it’s not that you don’t want him to cum inside, you do. it’s just... he doesn’t deserve it for the way he broke your rules.

“m-mommy!” jeno’s voice is high pitched, breaking on the end as his thrusts slow, but grow rougher. you can feel the slick between your legs, spilling down over your ass and onto the blankets beneath you. “so g-good... wanna breed you...”

your mouth opens when jeno readjusts, cock pressing up against your walls in the best way possible, pressing up against your sweet spot every single time. your toes curl where they’re propped up in the air, your boyfriend’s body preventing you from lowering them. a cramp starts to pull somewhere in your left thigh, and you contemplate telling jeno as much but when he cries out into your chest, you don’t have it in you to stop him.

“you better pull out, mutt!” you warn him, fingers wrapping around broad shoulders and digging into his skin. pretty crescent moon shapes litter his back, deep, red scratching lining his tanned skin.

your words seem to only spur jeno on, hips picking up pace as he becomes focused on only his pleasure.

“stupid dog,” is all you’re able to get out before jeno’s hips are stuttering, cock bottoming out. the tip kisses your cervix, cum painting your walls, and your own body convulses at the feeling. you moan into the air of your bedroom, pulling jeno even closer. your tummy bulges with his cock, and jeno just has to press a clammy hand against it.

jeno stays buried deep inside you for a moment, catching his breath. he’s hiccupping a little as he tries to come back to earth from whatever pleasure-induced cloud he’d been on. your fingers move to bring jeno’s face to yours, lips pressing against one another. jeno’s tongue finds refuge against your own, and you moan into his mouth. it’s sloppy and messy, the total opposite of the jeno everyone else gets to see and it makes you clench around his softening cock.

when he pulls away, you hum, taking in the sight before you. jeno’s eyes are wide, pupils blown as he regards you like you’re the only source of water for miles and he hasn’t had a drop in days. his tongue hangs out of his mouth, panting like a dog, and his chin is covered in drool. your fingers work to clean his face, wiping against the bedsheets once you’ve done your best to work the spit away.

you gasp as jeno’s cock slips free, soft between his legs.

“hi, baby,” you whisper, a grin on your lips as you work him back to you. “can you speak yet?”

jeno swallows, eyes blinking slowly as his mouth works to form words.

“shh... you don’t have to try if you can’t. just nod if you’re feeling good enough to keep going.”

the boy between your legs keens softly, nodding a soft yes. you card your fingers through sweat-dampened hair, cooing gently, trying to show as much affection to the boy as you can before you’re yanking on the strands, growling under your breath.

jeno whines in pain, but you can feel his dick twitching against your ass.

“stupid fucking dog. you can’t listen, can you?” your voice is biting, though you mean no malice. “first, you think of only yourself when i so graciously let you fuck me. remember last time, mutt? remember why mommy hasn’t let you fuck her in months? because you do shit like this.” with another tug, jeno’s groaning, mouth opening again. your free fingers work into his pretty, swollen mouth, pressing down on his tongue. your thumb hooks under his jaw, in the divot behind his chin. forcing his mouth open, you maneuver his head so he’s unable to look anywhere but you. “and then, to make it worse, mommy told you not to cum inside her. but what do you do? you cum inside her like a stupid mutt. do you know what will happen if mommy gets pregnant?”

jeno’s eyes are filling with tears, and for a moment you become worried, but you know jeno’s smart enough to use his safe word. he has before, even when he’s gone so far into his puppy space that he’s gotten nonverbal.

“if mommy gets pregnant with your puppies,” you whisper, bringing him in close. he swallows as best as he can around your fingers. “then mommy can’t fuck you like the stupid bitch you are. and you will never get to come close to my pussy. do you understand me, mutt?”

the boy trapped between your legs nods quickly, drool spilling from around your fingers once more. you hum, digging a heel into jeno’s lower back before releasing him. jeno slumps against your chest once your legs are free as well, and your fingers move from his mouth to pet through his locks again.

“you’re lucky you’re so cute, nono.” your voice is breathy, a soft giggle in it somewhere as jeno rests his chin on your chest, looking up at you with big eyes. “god, i can’t even be mad at you.” you’re pouting down at him, moving to adjust your position. turning around, you rest up against the headboard, legs spread wide. jeno’s cum drips from your fluttering walls, between your cheek, and onto the bed sheet beneath you.

“if you wanna make it up to me, you’ll come over here and use that pretty mouth of yours to make me cum.”

jeno’s eyes light up once more and he’s immediately crawling between your legs, ready to give you the world and then some.

[diddlesanddoodles]

DUMPLING ch 36

She watched with a muted fascination at the gathered giants. Though she was really only able to see the world passed the tree trunks of their legs, she was well able to sense their tension. It was almost as though she could smell it, like metal and upturned earth. Guards in their red leather armor stood close to the King, hands resting upon many hilts, ready to lunge and defend their liege.  

Under the thickening dullness of her mind, Nenani heard the wind-chimes. With difficulty, she braced herself against the lipper barrels and forced herself to stand onto shaking legs.  

The metal dome entrapping the serpent rose up, accompanied by the grunting efforts of Farris, Saen, and Avery. A black thing lunged out of the dark, once gleaming black scales now marred with gray and bleeding pot marks and burns in a crisscrossing patterned all over its body. Guards struck down with their swords to block the creature from slithering away between their legs and gave Yale just enough time to move. Yale lunged down upon it as it tried to slither away in another direction, pushing his entire weight down onto the snake’s body and gripped the back of its neck just below the thing’s jaws. It writhed violently beneath him, bucking the giant up and off of it as though he were nothing. Large black coils looped around his neck and squeezed.  

There was shouting and the scurrying of many legs, the unsheathing of swords and there was yelling. Loud enough to drown out the world. But suddenly, she didn’t feel the presence of the lipper barrels against her back and the snake loomed large and enormous before her, its body continuing to curl itself around Yale’s neck and chest and she heard her friend wheeze pitifully. There were many hands trying to pull the creature off of him, swords pointing down at him, aiming for the snake, but far too close to Yale. She weaved around the forest of dark leather boots and broke through the throng of them.

Her hands were up and all she could see was the frightened eyes of her friend as they stared down at her and it summoned from within her a bitter hatred that burned her from deep inside and the angry red and yellows of her flames shifted into a vibrant blue and white that turned the moisture in the air to steam. The fire that had before swirled around like water and vapor hardened into distinct shapes, vines with thick wickedly sharp thorns and they fell upon the serpent, ripping and burning its flesh. Wide furrows were racked across the creature, ripping it open. All around her the giants gasped and involuntarily stepped back, panicked whispers rippling through them in waves.

The snake recoiled at the her fire and she fell back, pulling it with her and she heard Yale take a loud gasping breath as the many hands of his fellow cooks grabbed him and pulled him out of the snake’s weakening hold. Someone was yelling her name.  

The milky white of the serpant’s eyes met her own, close enough to feel the heat of his breath on her face and her arms shook terribly as she held it there, her mind feeling as tight and brittle as a thread pulled too taut and ready to snap.

“You’re majesty! Now!”

The glowing blade of the dagger sunk into the serpent’s skull with a sickening schlk and the milky white of its eyes drained away to reveal deep amber irises just before they rolled back into the dying creature’s skull and a black mist crept out from the corners of its mouth. Maevis began to chant something loudly above her and the black miasma swirled about as though the magician’s words agitated it, hurt it, and then all at once the whole black mass of it was sucked upwards. Upwards and into open mouth of a glass jar held in the magician’s hands. He slammed a stopper into it once the black mist had settled inside. Only then did Nenani release her hold and the blue vines misted away into plumes of white steam and she fell back onto the ground, gasping, and black overtook her senses.

……………………………………….

“Hold her still,” said a voice, far off, but familiar. “That’s it. Now we just...”

“Is she breathing?”

“Stand back, dammit!”

“Go sit down, Yale!”

“IS SHE BREATHING?!”

Something pressed up against her chin and forced her head back and something shockingly cold was poured down her throat and she jolted to alertness. It tasted medicinal and spicy and it made her want to gag.

“Easy now, little one,” Maevis said, his voice gentle but tense. “Don’t fight, just drink. As much as you can.”

His voice was oddly commanding and she took several long gulps of air before she allowed more of the medicine down her throat. She felt as though she was drinking gallons of the vile brew before it stopped and she was allowed a respite. Laying in someone’s arms, she gasped and coughed, everything tingled alarmingly and her head swam and pulsed with a painful headache. She opened her eyes to see Farris’s worry stricken face above her and Maevis standing back, slipping a small flask back into his pocket.

“She’ll be fine, Farris,” Maevis said, his face set into a grim frown. “The potion’s done it’s job.”

Farris’s starred down at her and she was at a loss for what emotion she saw. His brows were narrowed, but his eyes were unfocused. She felt his arm around her pull her closer to his chest, one hand curling around her shoulder and rubbing her arm lightly.

“How do we keep that from happening again?” He asked Maevis, voice quiet and not sounding at all like himself.

“I’ll come up with something,” Maevis replied. “Her magic is all out of sorts and unfocused and spills out all at once. It needs a cap or any time she uses her fire...well. She runs the risk of...”

“So she can just drop dead?” Farris growled. “Just like that? Stop breathing and die?”

“It’s a danger all elementals face when they first come into their magic, Farris,” Maevis replied. “If they drain themselves too much too quickly, it could stop the heart.”

“Maevis,” came the voice of the King. “Do you know of a way to prevent her from spilling her magic like that?”

“I have a solution in mind. It’ll only take me a moment to procure it.”

“Then please, see to it. Once you have it, we will convene in the great hall. There’s much we need to discuss about what is to be done now.”

“Your majesty,” Maevis replied and Nenani heard his footsteps grow quieter as he left.  

“Farris,” said the King, “Please see to your staff and all what needs to be tended to. I will have Donal send you some support workers to help get everything back in order. Do not be too concerned with dinner service. We’ll manage well enough with what we have in cold storage and be content. Now, where is Haiyer?”

“I have ‘im here, yer majesty,” came Bart’s voice. “He’s ain’t hurt none, just rattled a good bit.”

“I will send Lolly down in a moment to come collect him. For now, however, I will take Nenani with me. I don’t want Annie to hear of what happened until her daughter is recovered.”  

“Aye,” Farris replied dully and Nenani was shifted about in his hold and laid into Warren’s outstretched hands. She was too weak to protest or ask questions so she laid passive in the King’s arms as he issued several more orders before leaving the cook camp. She closed her eyes for only a moment and then suddenly they were in a corridor, the air much warmer and smelled of dusty tapestries and old wood. Time seemed to slip between her fingers like so many grains of sand and she closed her eyes again for what seemed like only a few seconds before she opened them again and she was no long being held by the King, but nestled in a thick padding of soft fabric on a very large and long table. Glancing up, she found the ceiling to be a dizzying way up, far higher than any other ceiling she had seen in the castle. Many large windows lined the impossibly long room and in between each was a long ornate tapestry that glistened as though woven with gold thread.

“...some sort of fixture, a lantern maybe. Place them about the castle grounds.”

“And these would alert us to the mage’s magic?”

“Yes. We will need a good many of them, but I believe this will be our best chance at preventing what occurred today from repeating itself.”

“Yes, about that. What did we see exactly, Maevis? I don’t recall ever hearing of a Silvaaran fire mage do anything like what I just witnessed.”

“To be honest, sire...I am not entirely sure myself. Her mother’s bloodline is old and to the Silvaarans’ way of thinking at least, pure. Her being a fire mage is hardly surprising given her heritage. Her father’s bloodlines however are, from a magical standpoint, very unassuming. Very little to any magic at all. But the potency of Nenani’s magic I find to be...quite shocking. I’ve never seen a fire mage transfigure their flames like that.”

“When she was revealed to be a fire mage, I took it upon your authority that her fire was harmless. What she did today was far from harmless.”

“She’s only a child, sire. She wouldn’t...”

“Let us not mix words here, Maevis. She is a child with the power to kill. She is an untrained, wild mage.”

“The amulet will help. She wont be a danger to anyone...”

“...unless she feels threatened. Which you know just as well as I how probable that is. Especially now. She experienced that first hand did she not? One of the rangers? When she first arrived?”

“Ah, yes. I believe she did.”

“And if such an incident were to happen again now that she is bloomed? Am I to be content with a dead ranger?”

“I will work with her. She’s a smart girl. She’ll learn how to control it with some time.”

“I do not need to be told of her virtues. Nor do I hold any ill will towards the poor girl. But we must be sensible about this. Annie said that she had put a seal on her once before. Would it be possible to do so again?”

“...If at all possible, sire, I would very much like to avoid that option.”

“Why is that?”

“I’ve already tried once before. The Princess’s original seal broke...it broke weeks ago. When the wyvern attacked.”

“The wyvern?” A long pause. “So it wasn’t you who...”

“No. No I wasn’t the one to kill the wyvern. It was her.”

“...why did you not inform me of this at the time? Why did you lie and say you had slain it?”

“...I was scared for her. I thought...that if I could seal her again, everything would go on as normal. But the seal...it hurt her. She complained of pain constantly. The seals were never designed for the mages’ comfort, quite the opposite in fact, and I hate that I ever did such a thing to her. So if at all possible, I would like to keep her unsealed. I do not know what kind of seal Oira could manage, but...”

“Maevis, I appreciate your devotion to the girl, but we must remember the people of this country, this Kingdom. We serve them as protectors and this mage, Aidus, is a very real threat. We cannot allow ourselves to be distracted this way.”

“I do remember, your majesty. But I cannot turn my back on her.”

“Nor am I asking you to. If this amulet does as you say, then the matter is settled. Once she has recovered some, you will begin instructing her on how to manage her magic and we will revisit this at a later time.”

“She was only trying to save Yale. They are very close, those two. And anger is a very potent fuel for mage fire. She must have buried a lot of it for so much to pour out of her.”

“I do not doubt you, my friend. And the fact that no one else was burned tells me the truth of it. But she cannot be allowed to wield such power without the tools to do so responsibly and safely. As you say, she is only a child. And one who has been through much. In any case, it might prove a useful distraction for her. A constructive outlet...”

Nenani lay within the fabric, numb and filled with emotion at the same time. What had she done? She made the King angry. He sounded so angry…she didn’t mean to do it. But she did and even as she regretted it, she was still all the same glad she had. She couldn’t let Aidus take someone else from her. She couldn’t and she wouldn’t. He couldn’t have Yale. Or anyone.

Never again...

“Nenani,” came the King’s voice above her and she jerked in surprise, looking up to find him frowning at her. “You must calm yourself, child.”

It was only then that she realized she was all aflame and the fire pulsed when the surge of fear hit her.

“I’m sorry...” she said quietly.

Maevis stepped up behind Warren and reached out to pushed the fabric around her away, a gloved hand tucked itself under her shoulders and eased her up so she was sitting. “Don’t be scared,” he told her. “You’re all right now, Nenani. I have something that I believe will help with your flames.”

Something glistened in his other hand and he carefully placed a metal chain around her neck, using the tip of one finger to carefully lay the large amulet down. A familiar fire opal the size of a goose egg rested heavily against her belly, the chain being so long on her. She starred down at it, the colorful flecks of iridescent colors within the stone shining when it caught the light. There was pressure in her belly and a the feeling of something pulling at her and pulling inwards. The flames that danced around her faltered and died as the stone began to glow. After only a few moments, the light died away and she was her normal self.

Maevis grinned in clear delight and relief. “I call that a success!”

The King too looked relieved and nodded. “I am glad,” he said with a sigh and then leaned down slightly to peer at her. “Now, Nenani, did you hear what all we were just discussing?”

Without meeting the King’s eye, she nodded. “I didn’t...mean to do anything bad. I just...He’s taken so much from me already. I wasn’t going to let him take Yale too. I...I don’t even know how I did all that...I just did.”

“Do you know what happened after?” asked the King and she shook her head. “You stopped breathing, little one...”

“I...I did?” she asked looking up at him, her belly doing flips with unease.

“When an elemental uses all of their magic,” Maevis explained. “And I do mean all of it, it’s potentially fatal if emergency actions are not taken. Such as the potion I gave you. You’re newly bloomed, Nenani. And as such, you do not know how to regulate the flow of your magic. So when you used it as you did, it poured out all at once. That potion I gave you was a restorative.”

She suddenly realized why Farris looked the way he had and she bowed her head feeling shameful. After all the time having him worrying over her, she went and did it again.

“But, don’t worry!” Maevis was quick to add, tipping her head up gently with a finger. “I am going to teach you how to manage your magic so it never happens again.”

She nodded mutely. “So...did it work, at least? What you were trying to do?”

Maevis nodded. “Yes, I was able to extract the essence from the serpent. It’s locked up in the library under seventeen layers of protective spells and I may still add more tonight.”

“At least it worked,” she offered inanely.

The King nodded. “It is our hope to have a warning beacon in place soon. Maevis believes he can use the captured essence to create a barrier spells to detect the mage’s presence should he attempt to enter the grounds under guise again.”

“Which reminds me,” Maevis said, looking to Nenani with a serious expression. “How was it that you knew the serpents were Aidus’s avatars?”

“I didn’t. Haiyer did,” she replied and seeing Maevis’s bewildered stare elaborated. “He...he has an imaginary friend who he said told him to hide because there was one of Aidus’s snakes around.”

The King was not able to fully suppress the dubious smile that came to his lips. Looking to Maevis, he asked “Do you think he might be a mage as well, Maevis? That he may have sensed Aidus?”

“I do not think it so, but I haven’t had a moment to study the boy properly,” mused the Magician. “He is of the age where any magical talents would begin to show. Though...foresight is awfully rare and I’ve never heard of it appearing in the Silvaaran bloodlines.”  

    “I don’t...I don’t think it’s him,” Nenani said, earning herself the attention of both giants.

“No?” asked Maevis. “Why is that?”

“When he was telling me about her –his friend,” she said. “He said she was a fairy, but Mama and Lolly said fairies aren’t real.”

Maevis nodded, grinning a little.

“So you don’t think it could be a real fairy?” she asked.

Maevis and the King shared a look. “No, dear,” Maevis replied with a light laugh. “I am afraid it far more likely the little prince merely imagined this fairy friend. They are only to be found in folk tales and children’s stories.”

“But then,” she said. “How does he know who Bertol is?”

Maevis’s patient eyes narrowed and his mouth turned into a sour frown. “Bertol?”

“Haiyer said that his fairy friend lived in the mountains with a giant...named Bertol.”

Beside him, the King laughed. “Bumbling Bertol? Wherever would the boy have heard of him?”

But Maevis looked pensive. “He wouldn’t have. At least, not that I could imagine. If he does have foresight, it might explain him knowing the name. But until I have a moment with him, I could not say for sure.” Maevis tapped his lips idly as he considered the information. “Nenani, that little stone of his. Where did he get it?”

“I gave it to him when we were still out in the wilds with Keral. He was scared so I just picked up a rock that looked pretty and told him it was magic. To help him calm down. It was just a rock I found.”

Maevis’s eye opened wide, his mouth hanging open agape and he said nothing for several long seconds before he then started to giggle. Warren looked to the magician in mild confusion. “Maevis?”

“You just told him it was magic? That’s all?”

“Yes...” she replied, unsure and a little bewildered by the magician’s reaction.

“Oh my goodness,” he said, breathing heavily and then turning his gaze to Nenani, eyes bright with mirth. “My dear child. That was a blue quarts stone! You remember what I said about stones of power? That rock is a minor stone. A quarts.”

Nenani just starred, confused. “Huh?”

“You charmed it,” Maevis replied with a grin. “You implanted a piece of your magic inside when you gave it to him.”

Nenani opened her mouth and then closed it again as the King began to laugh. She regarded Maevis with pure befuddlement. “Wha...what? You...you can do that?”

Maevis nodded, wiping at his eyes. “Yes, dear. You can. It’s the same principal that works with that fire opal there. When presented with magic, it’ll pull it inside the stone. The greater the stone, the more power it can hold. A minor stone cannot hold much, but a simple charm would fit nicely. When you gave little Haiyer the stone, some of your magic was pulled into it. Charming it.”

She sat there dumbfounded and perplexed at the idea which only seemed to make the pair of giants chuckle more.

“But then,” she asked, “How does he know about Bertol?”

Maevis was unable to provide an answer, but decided that once he had a moment and things had settled, he would examine Haiyer to see if the small boy had in fact came into his magic, but instead of another young fire mage, they had a young oracle. And somehow no one bothered to notice.

“Oracle?” Nenani asked, unfamiliar with the word.

“Someone with the gift or foresight. The ability to see the future.”

“So...is Bertol an oracle?”

Maevis snorted distastefully. “Not in the least.”

“I didn’t think Oracles were real,” Warren admitted as he slipped onto one of benches alongside the long table.

“Exceedingly rare,” Maevis replied, taking a seat as well. “But they do appear in contemporary sources. Perhaps the Queen may know more.”

“Why would she know about Oracles?” asked Warren.

“Oracles are almost always found among the water mages. The water element lends itself to foresight. Her majesty would have grown up on tales of water mages, being from Ibronia.”

The King looked thoughtful and nodded. “I will ask her tonight.”

Wherever the conversation might have lead to was interrupted by the large set of doors at the far end of the room flying open and several giants pushed their way inside with quick and deliberate steps. They marched with purpose and brought with them a stiff and uncomfortable air, riddled with anxiety and anger.

“Your majesty!” said one of the giants at the front of the group. He was a giant of medium build, but his form was puffed out by a lavish green coat of fine embroidery with fur lined collar and cuffs. His face was set into a decidedly disagreeable frown and he seemed to be covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

Warren sighed and rose up from the table to meet the group. “My Lords,” he said to them collectively and then to the green coated one, “Lord Eldherst.”

“Is it true?” the green coated giant demanded. Nenani was a little shocked at how brazenly the man was speaking to the King. Lord or not, it seemed horribly rude and Nenani found herself a little offended on behalf of Warren. She knew none of the faces and it was then that she realized all of them were dressed in fine doublets and jerkins and coats. Some had jewels on their hands or around their necks. They were more richly dressed than the King.

“My lords, there is nothing to fear,” said the King, his voice both commanding and reassuring at once. “The threat has been dealt with and precautions are being put into place as we speak.”

The green coated giant huffed through his nose. “Do you mean to say that the fire mage has been cast out, your majesty?”

There was a sickening drop in the pit of her stomach and she tried to duck down into the fabric around her. Maevi’s hand rested on the table not too far from her and he very slowly began to inch his hand towards her, his eyes never straying from the group of Lords. The King stood stiffly, taking in each of their faces, and then addressed Lord Eldherst.

“No, sir. She has not,” he replied cooly. “Nor will I.”

The man did not seem to like that answer at all. “Your majesty, it is dangerous to have that thing on castle grounds!” Brown eyes abruptly turned her way and Nenani ducked into the fabric. Maevis’s gloved hands reached out to her, abandoning all pretense, and pulled her to him and folded the cloth around her more securely. Sweeping the entire bundle up, Maevis rose to his feet. The green coated man’s face turned a strange shade of pinkish purple and he waved an angry and accusing finger at her. “That thing should be brought to the Hill tribes where it’s chaos can be contained in a place of less importance! The west wing is destroyed, the kitchens are still in pieces, and now we have giant serpents coming onto the grounds and attacking our staff! That thing is cursed and we should rid ourselves of it before someone is killed!”

The large group of agitated giant lords all murmured sounds of agreement and someone from the back yelled out, “Here, here!”

“My lords,” said the King, his voice echoing through the hall. “I hear your concerns, but I must remind you all; your grievances are with the one who had caused these misfortunes and I assure you, it is not a little girl to whom your wrath should be aimed. As you all have been informed, what we face is indeed a human mage, but it is not Nenani. The young Princess is not our enemy.”

“Yes, Princess. As you have said, my liege. But is it not true that her mother was struck from the Silvaaran royal house? Her name removed from their records? What debt do we owe still that we haven’t already paid that we should take in and honor the dubious status of a human woman and her bastard?”

“Maevis,” said the King, his words sharp and angry. “Take Princess Nenani to the library and see to her recovery.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Maevis replied with a graceful, if not stiff, bow and he turned, covering her with fabric and shielding her from the eyes of the gathered lords. Underneath, she shivered and swallowed against the lump in her throat. The day’s events played inside her mind and she recalled the look of her fire when it turned blue and took the form of vines with thick thorns, sharp and curved. The gasps from the guards around her. The King’s anger. Lord Eldherst’s fear.

What did she do?

Gods above, what did she do?

[ythmir-writes]

I really enjoy reading your works! May I ask Ikesen Kenshin & silver for your 182 series?

hello dear! thank you thank you thank you so much for ALL your support (you know what im talking about! and you spoil me srsly (♡´艸`))  your tag dumps and your presence helps keep me going! thank you! so here it is! im not sure if it will live up to your favorite one out of all that i’ve written so far but ahhhhhh i hope you won’t hate me for this because i’m gonna go ahead and say this one is painful ｡(＿　＿｡)＝3

SILVER

fandom: Ikemen Sengokucharacter: Kenshin Uesugi

warnings for pain; 2999 words

Kenshin Uesugi had always expected she would leave. Eventually.

He knew it was inevitable. He knew that taking the Azuchi princess as hostage was only for a limited amount of time; that her presence was a guaranteed constant but only for so long as there was conflict between him and the Oda. With the conflict gone and all their treatises signed, there was no reason for him to keep her. No real convincing reason for her to consider an extended and indefinite stay.

So Kenshin was at a loss as to why he felt so vexed when the claim for the Azuchi Princess’ return finally started.

The formalities of the Claim were initiated by one Mitsunari Ishida – a general no less – who came into Kasugayama castle bearing gifts and the inevitable news that sadly (Kenshin had rolled his eyes at that) the Azuchi Princess must be returned.

As if to purposely aggravate Kenshin further, Mitsunari had even gone beyond and above his duty, and had presented a detailed and outlined plan of their travels, with the expected time of departure and arrival back at the Oda’s main residence.

“Her powers need to be renewed.” Mitsunari had droned on, continuing to explain the obvious. “Any extension and she would be most inconvenienced. Perhaps, mortally in danger even.”

“Watch your words, Mitsunari Ishida.” Kenshin had heard his voice before commonsense could stop him. He had sounded angry, offended. Some might have even said, a tad possessive. “Do you insinuate we have not taken care of your princess?”

Mitsunari had looked non-plussed, maybe truly apologetic. “My apologies, Lord Uesugi. I meant no offense. Only that we both know the precarious situation she is in for being too far gone from her source of power.”

Kenshin had had no answer to that.

Calculated. Meticulous. Damnably precise. Mitsunari’s answers and back-up plans had been made so that no circumstance were left unaddressed, no other endgame targeted other than the homecoming in three days time. It was plainly obvious that there was no room which Kenshin could use to argue or haggle and by the end of it, he had been left near boiling mad at how even during peaceful times, Nobunaga took advantageous measures rather than diplomatic ones.

Then again, Kenshin should have been distant; thoughts of haggling for an extended stay should never have crossed his mind. He should be impartial and uninterested. Had he not already expected her unavoidable return to the Oda? Had he not spent three years of his life bracing himself for that fact?

So why did his jaw feel tense? Why did he feel like a snake coiled taut and ready to strike? Kenshin had gnashed his teeth and had impatiently tapped his fingers on the hilt of his sword all the while, pretending he could get up and swing his sword to make a point. No one questioned the god of war.

But, no. Those were not the gestures and thoughts of an uninterested captor, and definitely not the emotions of a person who knew from the very beginning this day would come.

“You said you expected this.” Shingen Takeda had leaned towards him from his shared spot in the dais as soon as Mitsunari had left the main hall. “You said you wouldn’t care.”

“I don’t.” Kenshin had snapped back while suppressing his horror that much of his true mood had managed to show. “I’m annoyed because of the provided logistics. I expected Uesugi cavalry to escort her. I prepared. And now that’s all to waste.”

Shingen’s brows rose at this, as if he had picked up something Kenshin had not even said and it had only made Kenshin’s mood dip for the worst.

“Nobunaga leaves nothing to chance.” Shingen had leaned back, waved a hand towards the gifts left behind: favorite things, precious treasures, handpicked from lands only the Oda had reach. Too generous compensation for the task of keeping a goddess and his princess safe. “You should know better than that.”

“No. He does not. And yes, I should have.” Kenshin had nothing else he could afford to say.

In the afternoon, the rest of the Oda party had arrived: two dozen armed escorts, five Oda special infantrymen, two pairs of armoured scouts, and a full rear guard.

Mitsunari Ishida had beamed at them with pride, the shadow of a boy slipping from his battle-hardened facade. He had watched with keen interest as the soldiers went into formation, pledged their allegiance to the Princess and to the Oda, before performing a salute to Uesugi’s generosity.

“Well performed.” Shingen had commented. “And excellent footwork, if I may add.”

“Thank you, Lord Shingen.” Mitsunari had been all smiles. “I have taken your advice to heart. Your compliments mean a lot to me.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen soldiers so eager to fall in line.” Yukimura Sanada, Shingen’s second, had added.

Mitsunari had waved a hand at his soldiers. “Nothing but the best for this mission. Nothing less should be spared for the Azuchi Princess’ trip back home.”

Home.

Kenshin had ground his teeth again, realizing the group was Mitsunari’s handpicked guard. It was almost as if it was not Nobunaga Oda who was claiming the Princess back but this damnable, smiling, scheming, cunning little –

It took every ounce of self-control, and a well-timed whisper from his most trusted ninja, for Kenshin to loosen his white-knuckled grip on his sword. Whether it was sheer anger or spite that carried him through the rest of the ceremonies, he did not know. Only that as the rest of rules of tradition were fulfilled, Kenshin had retreated to his thoughts.

But then again, what thoughts?

Too long he had repeated to himself this: Precisely because he knew there would never be a compelling reason for her to stay behind in Kasugayama, so too he had no compelling reason to go ahead and put a name on anything he felt where it concerns the Princess – other than “inconveniences”, “distractions”, little “hiccups that made his mind wander when he should be thinking of war”. Everything he had had with her, all the moments spent in her company he had long convincedhimself were but temporary.

Why try to decipher any of the uncomfortable sensations he felt if he knew in the end there was nothing to come of it?

Just like wildflowers, he reasoned to himself; those had no proper names, no real identities, just whispers. They were beautiful and wonderful and terribly fleeting. They come in spring to die inwinter only to then bloom again. A breath taken then gone.

What was the use of naming and holding on to something so obviously transient?

So in all honesty, Kenshin Uesugi had never truly considered the depth of the emotions he truly harbored for the princess.

And now, he was escorting her to her palanquin.Nowthe inevitability was coming to pass.Now he felt upset and vexed beyond comprehension at the thought of the princess being taken away. Wildflowers plucked before they could fully bloom. Too soon, too soon.

The idea made him sick, made him angry, made him feel so unpleasantly vulnerable. Made him feel a deep sense of lamentation at what hehad lost, what he was losing – what he had so long been too cowardly to grasp.

But he should not be so selfish.

She needed to go back, Kenshin reasoned to himself. She needed to go back to her lands and to her magic. She needed to be returned so she could live, so she could flourish, so she could regain her power to serve her people and see better days.

That he needed her to stay, that he wanted her to stay, was something best kept to himself.

She was just a hostage. She was just another tool used in the war.

That she had been so warm. That she had been so bright. That she had been able to pull him when other would simply let go. That she had been stubborn when others would simply be compliant. That she had been the cause of most of his laughter. That she had been so strong, and honest, and courageous and valiant and taught him so many other things when he had thought of her as next to nothing.

That was no one’s fault but his.

“Thank you for your kindness all this while.” The Princess bowed low, at the waist just like he had taught her, then straightened back up like an arrow, taut. She was dressed as he had first seen her, in a pauper’s travelling clothes with a short sword strapped at the waist. None of Echigo’s riches were decorating her now. None of their gifts dangling from her ears or wrapping around her wrists. All traces of him gone. Not even the hairpin he had given her.

And at the thought, Kenshin’s heart sank even further.

“You take care, all right.” Shingen had taken Kenshin’s silence as an opportunity to say his own goodbyes. “Your party is more than enough to keep you safe but well, nothing wrong with blessings to leave you by.”

“I’m grateful for them.” She answered, smiling up at him, as if Shingen had not been the principle moving force behind her capture.

“You be sure to keep a healthy diet too.” Yukimura had decided to cut in as well. “No more just sake and sour plums.” He shot a look at Kenshin.

Kenshin ignored the look.

The Princess laughed. “I liked them a lot. I still do.”

“I’ll be sure to visit.” Sasuke Sarutobi said now, materializing from whatever shadow he had just been in. No doubt he had scouted as far ahead as possible to make sure their path was clear. “With the new peace treaties between Oda and Uesugi-Takeda, there’s no reason for me to be covert about it either.”

“We could have snacks at that candy store again.” She clapped her hands. “Remember that dango?”

“If there’s sweets involved, then I’m going too.” Shingen invited himself. “Yuki?”

Yukimura groaned. “Fine. Because someone has to make sure you behave yourself.”

They laughed. Kenshin wanted to join in on their merriment, be part of their group as he had always been. He wanted at the very least for their last memory to not be a burden for her to carry. But he could not find any joy in what was happening, even if it was the promise of happier and peaceful days spent under a brighter silver moon.

“Kenshin?”

Her voice pulled at him like the moon to waves and Kenshin looked at her looking at him, a little bit worried, a little bit something else behind her silver eyes.

Kenshin’s throat tightened with emotion and need to lock her up again, refuse any help, destroy all evidence of good will and make war once again just so he could have the semblance of an excuse for her to –

“I want you to stay,” he began, his voice wrung with emotions. First, relief, at the realization of what exactly he was feeling. Second, and more so, that particular emotion that gutted his innards and twisted them.

Grief. He was grieving this end. Inevitable. Unavoidable. Inconceivably painful. He did not want this. He did not want to partake in any of this.

He should have known from the very start that wildflower roots run deep. And once they had taken to the land, they knew no other.

But she needed to go back, he reminded himself again. She needed to go back so she could live. He needed to let her go before she died in her cage like how –

“I want you to stay.” Kenshin repeated, the pain in his chest making him throw away all sense of self-preservation that had kept him alive in the battlefield. “But I know you have to go back. I do not want this but it needs to be done.”

“Is that for me or for you?” She asked gently, taking his hand.

Kenshin opened his mouth, closed it. Took a lifetime to respond. “I don’t know.” He finally said, his voice barely a whisper.

Somewhere during the time it was taking him too long to answer, everyone else seemed to have suddenly given them space. They were conversing as if in private now, Mitsunari Ishida (the damnable smile still in place) had even turned away and left them in peace.

“You avoided me the past few days.” She said. “You never came to visit me in my room.”

“You were saving stamina for the trip. I didn’t want to be a burden.” Kenshin answered.

“I see.” Her tone told Kenshin she did not believe him. He did not expect her to. He had spent the past few days hovering in front of her room, passing it by, taking a longer route just so he could spare it a glance. But never truly asked if he could come in.

He did not want to see her room being emptied, did not want to see the trunks being loaded with everything she owned, did not want to strike up a conversation about how he felt about this.

How she felt about it all.

“And yet here you are saying you want me to stay.”

Kenshin swallowed before answering. “I do.”

Her lips tugged upward at some memory. “Sasuke told me you were near ballistic during the turnover. Said something about an offense…?” She prompted.

“There was insinuation against my honor.” Kenshin remembered and felt angry again. “That I might not have taken care of you.”

She giggled and Kenshin wanted to bottle up the sound for him to keep. “That’s not what Mitsunari said.”

Kenshin clicked his tongue. “That’s what I heard.”

“The reason I was waiting because I have something to give you.” She let go of his hand to produce something from her sleeve. It wasa small charm sewn in bright blue and silver fabric, Uesugi colors, with a bright red thread forming the shape of a bird.

Kenshin recognized it instantly but had barely formed the words of protest on his lips when the Princess had already placed it in his hands, closed his palms over it.

“A goddess’ hair is a powerful thing.” Kenshin said, thoughts reflexively going to tactics, to war. “Do you even understand – ?”

“That is not its only purpose.” She kept her eyes trained on their hands clasped together. “It means something else.”

Kenshin pressed his mouth into a thin line, wondered if it was safe to let loose what he had kept so long inside him. Wondered if she would drown. If both of them would.

“I return you to the Oda as the day I found you.” Kenshin said instead and he did his best to ignore the way her shoulders stiffened at him hastening their parting. “Not a hair on your head harmed. Not a sliver of skin taken which was not freely given. Not your power or your soul fragmented. I return you as I found you.”

“All good will, prosperity, and blessings be upon you, Lord Kenshin Uesugi.” She chanted the proper words back. “For you have returned me as you have found me and have not harmed me or done me ill will. I am going back whole, safe. Unharmed. Tended to with the best you have to offer. Loved.” She looked at him and her eyes shone. “Loved in the way you knew how.”

Kenshin swallowed a wail and wondered with the way her shoulders were quivering, if she hated him too.

Hated him for not speaking his mind until the very end. Hated him for not doing something to prevent this. Hated him for not parting with a better memory to reminisce. Not with a banquet. Not with a promise for the future. Not even one last night to drink under the stars from which she was named after. Hated him for keeping it all inside because he was nothing but afraid.

She did not need to. He hated himself enough for both of them.

“You haven’t failed, Kenshin Uesugi.” She smiled at him now, that same patient smile she always wore when he was being difficult. “You haven’t let me die the same way as Isehime. You haven’t let anyone die in vain, if at all. I just wish you’d see that too.” Then without giving him time to say anything else, she turned away.

Kenshin did not chase her. Had Kenshin been a little less stronger, he would have dropped on his knees and begged her all over again to stay. But he was not and he did not.

It took all his strength to stay and watch her palanquin until it disappeared into the horizon. All the while Kenshin gripped the charm like it was a lifeline. Part of him wanted to ride his mare and bring her back. Part of him was relieved that finally, she could grow strong again and live life better again.

But all of him, every single fiber of his being, missed her, craved her being with him. And not for the last time did he wish he was a god of something else – anything else – that could keep her safe. Could keep her safe.

It was past midnight by the time Kenshin could be ushered by Sasuke to go back into the castle. Kenshin was not sure. Time was suddenly hazy, a concept foreign to him. It was only time he had spent with her, and the time he was now spending without her.

Kenshin Uesugi raised his eyes towards the sky, his eyes searching for the stars she had so often pointed out as her favorites. But no matter how long he stared or how much his tears tried to rinse him of all his sorrow, he could not see them. None of them were there tonight.

And neither was she. Not anymore.

25/182

[missvalerietanner]

The Unseen Soldier | Part 1 | The Fated Meeting

Subject: Hades & Persephone (aka Aiden & Sophie)

Genre: Southern Gothic retelling (working title)

Words: 1,384

Summary: Sophie wanders into the dark woods at the edge of town where the Unseen Solider lives. Despite the danger she knows lurks there, she feels a draw to be among the trees for reasons she doesn’t understand.

Updates every Sunday! Click to read.

She inched further into the woods, seeking him, inexplicably drawn to him. She guided her feet with care, petrified of snapping a downed twig or displacing the earth beneath her toes too much and drawing his attention before she was ready. But ready for what?

Panic shot through her bones, chilling her blood, and all at once, a conscious realization of what she was doing sparked in her mind. She’d heard the stories of him, knew he was dangerous and deadly with the strength of fortitude of an army of men.

People go to him, and they don’t come back.

Either the woods take ‘em, or he does, but no one survives his touch.

The war twisted ‘im, changed ‘im. Boy ain’t been right since.

What was she thinking? Crossing the border to these woods put her very life at risk, and the allure of finding him now shifted to pure terror. Her heart thundered in her chest, beating with an intensity that brought pain to her ribs. She folded her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling so naked, so exposed. No--it was more than that. She felt someone’s eyes watching her.

“Hello?” she called out, her voice trembling.

Idiot, she thought. You’ll draw him right to you.

That is, if he isn’t already here.

A branch snapped in half behind her, and she jumped. She clamped a hand down over her mouth to silence a scream that burned in her throat as she spun herself in a circle, searching for any silhouette that might be closing in on her.

The distant howl--too loud and primal for a mere dog--pierced her ears. Her eyes widened and were dried out by the dryness in the air despite the tears that leaked down her cheeks. The air around her was heavy and thick, as if she were swimming through water not walking through woods. She struggled to draw a breath through her parched throat.

What was happening to her, to the forest? It was the height of summer in July. In Georgia. The air should be humid, weighted down by the water on its wings and pressing her sheer clothes to her hot skin. But instead, the wind bit into her skin, daring to lick the moisture from her flesh as if the wind itself was a man dying of thirst.

She gathered her skirt into her fists and ran back to where she’d entered the woods. But the sky overhead was darkening far faster than it should. It was just after noon when she’d entered the forest--wasn’t it? And where had she stepped into the fated woods? All the trees felt like mirrors of one another as she ran past them, each one blurring brown into the next. Their already impossible heights only seemed to double as her panic grew wild, seizing her lungs and depleting the oxygen in them in one gasp.

“I wanna go back,” she begged, still running, still hammering her bare feet into the scatterings of the earth: sharp-cornered rocks, severed sticks, and a sprinkling of poisonous plants. “I wanna go back. I wanna go back.”

Her foot tangled into an uprooted tree, and she caught herself before she fell. She grunted as she stumbled over the wood, her annoyance chasing away her fear if only for a moment. But then her back connected with something firm, something warm.

Her blood stopped flowing as it froze in her veins, stalling her heart. She shut her eyes tight as the tremor in her bones vibrated through her entire body. Gritting her teeth and keeping herself blind, she spun to face what she already knew awaited her. She lifted one eyelid slowly to see him for the first time.

Brown hair, healthy and well-groomed, hung to his shoulders where the ends tickled a shallow beard that reached down his cheeks from his temples and curved around his lips and chin like fur. His eyes were warm and inviting, despite their gray color.

His shoulders were wide, at least double the width of hers, and they loomed over her like mountains. His chest was equally broad, and through his cotton white t-shirt, she could see his firm muscles, pulled taut beneath skin at every angle.

The suspenders pinning his shirt in place only enhanced the tension in his strength, and her eyes followed the brown leather of them to where they were pinned in place on his worn jeans. Smatterings of mud and oil smeared his skin and clothes, evidence of a working life.

The rest of his disappeared into the shadows lingering at their legs from the encroaching darkness, and she summoned her courage to stare him in the eye. Despite his imposing stature that hovered over her and drained the very color from her skin, he seemed human.

Her fear was still present, beating away inside her mind and begging her to run, but she rejected the idea, knowing she wouldn’t get far. Her feet were sore and bloodied. Her legs were tired, and her heart and lungs were ready to collapse from overuse.

“What are you doing in these woods?” he asked, his voice more curious than angry.

“I--I didn’t mean--I don’t--” Her body coiled in on itself. “Please don’t hurt me,” she screamed.

He reached toward her, his face solid stone. She panicked, stumbled back from his reach, and tripped backward over the same root that had slowed her down and trapped her in his space moments before. Gravity dragged her to the ground, and she hit hard enough to rip a cry of pain from her throat as she landed on uneven rocks scattered across the grass.

She glanced up to see him standing over her, his face still frozen and unreadable. The fear in her muscles urged her to rise, and she pushed herself to her feet as her hands slipped against the sharp rocks beneath, slicing into her palm. She yelped again and cradled her hand against her heart, clenching her hand tight as a river of red streamed down her wrist.

She ran deeper into the woods just to get away from him. The skies overhead darkened even more, casting her into total darkness--a suffocating world of shadows that silenced the insects of the forest. As she ran, exhausted, she heard only her ragged breaths and her hammering heart ringing in her ears. Tears streamed from her eyes as she moved, dividing her time between watching the yawning expanse of nothing stretch out before her and glancing back for any hint that he was following her.

That primal howl filled the air again, and she shuddered, more afraid than she’d ever before been. Oh, how she longed to go home, back to the life she’d believed was so boring, so mundane, so safe. She wanted her bedroom back, all pink and plush and innocent. She wanted her friends, their kindness and their smiles. But most of all, she wanted her mother, her warm embrace, and her soothing words as she stroked the hair from her face.

“Mom,” she screamed into the night, no longer caring. She was too desperate, too afraid of being trapped in here forever like all those stories that now circled endlessly in her mind. She wanted out; she wanted the sunlight and its heat; she wanted freedom.

“Mom,” she screamed again, her voice cracking. “Mommy, please!”

She tripped again, stumbling on another of the mirrored trees, and her body was pitched forward. She lost all control of her limbs, helpless to stop herself from colliding with the hard ground. She shut her eyes and clenched her jaw, preparing herself for the collision.

But it never came. She landed on something firm but warm, something that relaxed beneath her weight to pull her closer, cradling her in its safety.

“Mom,” she whispered.

She drew her arms against her chest, content to be cradled like the child she was. Her body was racked by sobs as ghosts of tears she could no longer shed burned at her eyes. She glanced up to see a face looming close, illuminated by some unseen light in spite of the ever-thickening dark. She wanted to see her mother, even her father would be a delight.

Gray eyes greeted her instead, and she collapsed into unconsciousness in his embrace.