#ironhold

[in1-nutshell]

After seeing the ophelia in idw posts I'm really curious about what would Ironhold be like in idw like,

Would they also leave the decepticons? If so, what made them leave? Did their father also shoot them in this universe? Did they realise that their faction had strayed too far from its original goal? Did they defect to the autobots? Would the autobots really accept them? Or do they go neutral?

But if they don't leave, how did they feel about Megatron leaving? In either of those scenarios, what is their relationship with the decepticons? The autobots? Where do they go after the war is over?

I just really like them a lot :D

Here comes Ironhold!

IDW Ironhold

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Angst, Mention of injury, Cybertronian reader

IDW/MTMTE

They were a young gladiator when they first met Megatron.

A big fan of Megatron’s work, both in the arena and his writings.

Megatron was a bit curious about the young bot who seemed to follow him almost anywhere they were allowed to go.

At first it was a bit annoying to have a second shadow.

But over time he got used to having them try and chat his audials off.

Megatron walks down the corridor. Rapid pedes steps are heard. The young bot starts calling his name. Megatron: “Yes… umm…” I-035: “I’m I-035, sir!” Megatron winces a bit at the word ‘sir’. He wasn’t that old… Megatron hums as he continues walking. I-035 follows closely behind him. I-035: “There is so much I want to talk to you about! Like how did you find the perfect moves to execute a bot? When did you learn? Do you have a teacher? Can you be my teacher!?” Random gladiator bot: “Will you shut it! I think you’d do us all a favor you miserably little—” The bot stops once Megatron’s glare landed on him. The bot grumbles as he purposely bumps into the younger bot. I-035 grumbles a bit at the shove, but quickly replaced by a smile looking at Megatron. Megatron gives them a faint smile as they continue their walk.

Constantly chatting about their upcoming fights and praising his signature death blows.

He didn’t want to admit it, but the younger bot was slowly growing on him.

The older mech even started helping them train.

Megatron found himself going to watch their fights, admittedly impressed and smiling when he saw them execute one of his moves with extreme precision.

He couldn’t feel any prouder of his pupil.

Sadly, their happy times came to an end when Megatron was sent to another arena.

It would be a couple of years before Megatron would reunite with them once again.

Megatron is walking through the crowd of bots at his recent gathering. He spots a familiar bot dragging someone to him. It was Deadlock. Deadlock: “Megatron! Megatron!” Megatron smiles at the new Decepticon. Deadlock: “I want you to meet a friend of mine.” I-035 stares wide optic at the larger grey mech. A smile starts forming. They take their servo out. I-035: “Megatron, long time no, see?” Megatron mirrors their smile and shakes it before noticing the badge on their chassis. Megatron: “I see you chose a side.” The glistening Decepticon insignia matches the light in their optics. I-035: “Just following an old mentors pedesteps, and hoping he might still have some things to teach me?” Megatron chuckles a bit. Megatron: “Maybe this old mentor wants the both of you in his inner circle.” Deadlock and I-035 look at each other in surprise. They look at each other, almost as if having a silent conversation before I-035 turns to the grey mech. I-035: “We’d be honored Megatron.”

It wouldn’t be long before Megatron would give them a ‘proper’ name.

Quickly, the name Ironhold became associated with the causes goal.

The old ones at least…

It would also be a couple of months before the war would have started.

To the Autobots, the name Ironhold was one of the most feared names on the battlefield.

They were infamously known for their efficiency of taking out bots and strongholds assigned to them.

It only made sense being one of Megatron’s most trusted Con’s.

To the Decepticons, it was a bit of a different story.

They were still known for their efficiency and work, but they were a good bot.

Ironhold often looked out for their fellow soldiers and ‘family’.

Throughout the years, they even earned the title as ‘Megatron’s Child’.

They were a bit embarrassed by this at first, but when Megatron soon calling them ‘his child’, they took in the title with stride.

There was no doubt that the two had grown closer, fighting alongside each other as one.

But as the war grew on, Ironhold started finding themselves getting closer with some of the other Con’s as Megatron’s fixation on Prime grew.

It would also be the time where they would begin to have their doubts about the meaning of the Decepticon cause.

It was Starscream who made them question certain things in the cause.

As much as they knew what kind of mech the Second in Command was, they still held some respect for him.

He wasn’t in that position for nothing.

And while his methods and tactics were… a bit much for Ironhold’s taste, they still respected him.

To Starscream, Ironhold was a puzzle.

How could some bot be efficient and ruthless in battle and still find it in their spark to trust and look after others?

He hated how they could be so kind and helpful to others.

This was war!

No one is supposed to be that kind!

Those kind of bots were the first ones to offline during the first DAYS of the war.

Ironhold mainly left Starscream to his own devices.

But Megatron started hurting him caught their attention.

Hurting him as punishment they understood, but not for no reason or on pseudo evidence.

Megatron launches Starscream across the room. The Seeker landing on his back. Megatron marches over and goes to punch him. The blow never came. Megatron looked to his side to see Ironhold barely holding his arm from harming the Seeker. Ironhold: “Megatron it was not him! The files were not his fault!” Starscream takes this moment to curl up closer to the wall, away from the two larger bots. Megatron: “Someone needs to pay! Or are you offering to take his place?” Ironhold: “What I’m saying is to get your helm out of your tailpipe and find some actual evidence! Not everything that goes wrong here is Starscream’s fault. We are bots who make mistakes from time to time.” Megatron sneers at them. They stand their ground. Their hold on his arm never falters. Ironhold: “Why don’t you go train or take it out on an Autobot if you still need to punch something?” Megatron roughly gets his arm from their grasp. Megatron: “This is the last time you do something like that again. Understood?” Ironhold: “Understood Megatron.” Megatron brushes past them and heads out the door. Ironhold slowly walks up to Starscream and offers him their servo. Starscream tries to get up by himself, but finds it a bit harder to do, so he does take their servo. The pair stands in silence. Starscream: “Some Decepticon you are.” Ironhold rolls their optics. Ironhold: “You’re welcome, Screamer. Let’s get you to the med bay.”

Soundwave was the mech who grounded them to the cause.

Working with Soundwave was a regular occurrence seeing that if Megatron was not involved with planning, it was them.

Soundwave didn’t mind Ironhold, finding them to be one of the only other good Con’s around that was still loyal to the cause.

This would naturally introduce them to the minicon’s.

Ironhold was one of the few Con’s that Soundwave trusted to keep them safe.

The minicons liked Ironhold enough to not cause too much trouble.

Soundwave enters the room. Ironhold has Rumble pinned with one servo to the wall while reading a data pad in the other. Frenzy was duct taped to the opposite wall. Lazerbeak and Buzzsaw were perched on a shelf. Ravage was on the berth stretching. Soundwave: “Ironhold. Explain.” Ironhold without looking up from their datapad: “I told Rumble I needed 3 minutes of quiet to read or else he would get sent to the wall.” Rumble: “I thought you meant like Frenzy!” Ironhold: “Ran out of tape. You had this coming Rumble.” Ironhold puts down the datapad and gently places Rumble back on the ground. Rumble: “You’re lucky I’m such a nice bot and not bringin’ out my pliers on your pedes!” Ironhold: “You won’t do that.” Rumble: “Really? And what makes you so sure?” Ironhold smirks at him. Ironhold: “You like me too much to do that.” Rumble starts stuttering and gets warm. Ironhold starts walking out the room. Soundwave: “You are responsible if he is broken.” Ironhold shrugs and begins to walk out the room. Soundwave telepathically: “Next time, you need to be more direct with Rumble. This horrible flirting is only going to give us all a helmache at the end of the day.” Ironhold feels their entire frame on fire. Soundwave telepathically: “Everyone knows Ironhold. Do not even attempt to deny it.” Ironhold telepathically: “…Please don’t tell Megatron.” Soundwave telepathically: “Try different tactics and we will see.” Ironhold telepathically: “Deal.”

Ironhold’s view on fighting started changing as the war dragged on for years.

Their fighting style changed as soon as they all arrived on Earth.

The Cons just thought it was their way of changing things up a bit, spicing up the old routine.

Ironhold just really didn’t want to hurt the humans.

They had nothing to do with their war, why drag them into it?

Soundwave and the mini’s had caught them saving couple of humans before, but never said anything about it.

Why would they?

It wasn’t like it was hindering Ironhold’s performance.

But they were not the only ones to stop the giant con getting humans to safety.

Many Bot including Optimus had seen Ironhold getting in danger for getting a few humans to safety.

It confused a lot of bots.

Ironhold never once thought of deserting the cause, much less defecting.

They would never betray their family like that… right?

It was a bad day.

Megatron had decided to go after a city of humans that were well away from their targeted area.

It raised a lot of warning signs for Ironhold.

This wasn’t a military advantage or their target, he was doing this for fun.

Ironhold tried to stop him, reminding him of their plans.

He didn’t listen as he rained fire on the city below.

Ironhold did their best to get as many humans to safety until the bots came.

Some of their fellow Cons tried to tell them to let it go, to let Megatron do what he does best.

Thankfully, the Bots do arrive on time.

Everything was getting too much.

The guilt was festering in their tanks seeing the human’s eyes filled with fear, anger, sadness, and so many more emotions.

They had to gently push some who were still in shock from the explosions and the fact that a Decepticon had saved them.

Was this how everyone looked at them?

They didn’t like it.

Ironhold spots Megatron aiming his fusion canon at an injured Autobot trying to shield some humans with his frame. Ironhold: “MEGATRON!” Ironhold pulls back his arm as the shot was fired upward. Megatron turned to them confused and enraged. Megatron: “Ironhold! What is the meaning of this!” Ironhold: “This isn’t even our target Megatron! We are nowhere near it! Why?!” Megatron gets his arm back. Ironhold: “We need to regroup if we are going to make it—” Megatron: “No.” Ironhold slowly realizes that this action was indeed because he wanted to. Ironhold: “These humans have done nothing for our war. Why drag them into it?” Megatron sneers at them. Megatron: “Is that insubordination my child.” Ironhold winced at the venom in their normally endearing nickname. Ironhold: “Megatron—” Megatron: “Speak again and I will terminate you myself.” Ironhold and the Autobot behind them optics widened. Ironhold stood in front of the Autobot and humans protectively. Ironhold: “If this is what the Decepticon’s stand for, I will not—” BANG! Ironhold’s frame fell on top of the Bot and humans limp, with a smoldering hole in their chassis. The battlefield had gone quiet. Megatron starts walking back from the limp frame. Megatron: “There is no use for traitors in my ranks.”

The Con’s follow their leader in shock.

Optimus and Ratchet race to the bot under Ironhold’s frame.

To their surprise, they were still online, barely managing to keep themselves from crushing the bot underneath them and the humans.

Ironhold looked at the Prime and bowed their helm.

Expecting death.

They did not expect him to tell the doctor to patch them up.

They were taken to their base where Ratchet could properly treat them before being taken into a different room for interrogation.

Ironhold half expected Prowl or Jazz to be in charge of this part.

They did not expect Optimus himself to come in.

No one heard what took place inside that room.

But after 3 days, Optimus had announced to the others that Ironhold would be joining their ranks.

This surprised a lot of bots.

Many simply refused to believe a Con as rotten as they were could never be an Autobot.

It was a rough transition.

Ironhold staying close to Optimus and Ratchet at all times before slowly integrating with the others.

They wanted nothing to do with the former Con and they did not blame them one bit.

Their saving grace came in the form of a familiar bot.

Ironhold is looking down while sitting in the corner refueling bit by bit. Smaller pedes come into their view. Ironhold: “If you are going to dump sludge on my helm again I—oh, it’s you.” It was the injured bot they had saved on that fateful day. He had a smile on his face. A kind one. It had been a while since they had gotten one of those. The bot sat down in the seat next to them holding his own cube of energon. Ironhold: “Don’t you have friends you’d rather sit with?” Hot Rod: “I was hoping you’d be one of them. I’m Hot Rod by the way.”

The conversation was a bit awkward at the beginning, mainly taking in the form of a friendly interegation before the bot left.

Ironhold was a bit surprised that the next day Hot Rod had returned to the same spot.

He even brought Bumblebee to chat with as well.

Slowly but surely ironhold started integrating into the ranks.

Ironhold knew that there were things they did that would forever stay in the minds of these bots… but they were grateful enough to call some their friends, dare they say family.

That word was a sacred one now.

The bot swore to only give the title to those worthy of it.

Truly worthy.

They made a mistake before they do not intend on doing it again.

It would be a while before Ironhold would return to the battlefield.

Mainly as a precautionary to the Cons and to the Bots getting used to them.

Thanks to some frame altercations, a fresh paintjob, and an energetic Hot Rod by their side, Ironhold soon began fighting for the Autobots.

Did it hurt to see the faces of their former ‘family’?

Yes.

Did it hurt to see that they did not recognize them?

Yes.

Did it hurt when they shielded their new friends from fusion blasts and fire?

Oh, most certainly.

On a happier note, Drift had also defected meaning they had one extra friend.

It took a lot of effort for them to start making amends, though it was mainly centered around trust.

As said before, as big and ruthless as Ironhold could get, they were still a good bot.

Timeskip after the war…

The war was over.

The Decepticons had lost.

Ironhold was at a lost.

For the first time in their life, they could stop fighting.

It felt… weird.

The sight of Cybertron made them sick to their tanks.

Too many painful wounds had been reopened.

Especially after what Megatron had done…

So, they did the next best thing, they were one of the first to sign up on Rodimus’s crew.

Ironhold is standing next to Rodimus on the bridge as the ship is starting to take off. Ironhold: “Engine’s are almost ready. I think you should take a seat Captain.” Rodimus makes a face at them. Rodimus: “Hold, what did we talk about titles?” Ironhold: “Its only out of respect Rodimus.” Rodimus: “Well, here’s an order, you can ONLY call me by my name.” Ironhold chuckles a bit. Ironhold: “Understood… Rodimus.” Rodimus: “That’s better. You know what ‘Hold, I don’t see this day possibly going wrong.” Ironhold gives him a serious look. Ironhold: “You shouldn’t say that Rodimus.” Rodimus: “And why?” Ironhold pinches their nose: “Because when someone does say that, something immediately goes wrong.” Rodimus: “You really believe in that—” BOOM! Cue the quantum engine fiasco. Ironhold accidentally falls on top of Rodimus due to the shaking. Ironhold: “I TOLD YOU!” Rodimus just wheezes as he tries to get off from underneath their giant frame.

[queenimmadolla]

a little something from the vault. enjoy a little dad!eddie munson x mom!reader and their baby who knows her parents aren’t slick. from the pennyverse, of course. hope you like it :) ♡

You’re peaking your head out of the small kitchen, watching with a fond smile and a full heart as Eddie stretches out on the couch. In his arms, resting on his chest, is your angel of a baby girl. A few months old and developing a funny little personality. That personality does not enjoy napping. 

Penny’s got an extreme case of FOMO; can’t shut those big beautiful, brown eyes of hers if anyone else is awake or existing without her. Hence why your husband is pretending to sleep, though his hand maintains a steady patting rhythm on the baby’s back.

You can tell Penny is tired, rubbing her face with her balled up hands and into Eddie’s shirt out of frustration. Her curls all mussed up from the displays of agitation and from her dad’s fingers combing through the soft tufts over and over again (he can’t help himself, she’s much too cute and her hair is ridiculously soft). After every single little wiggle she does to fight off sleep, she goes real still and cranes her head up to stare at Eddie, who immediately drops his head back onto the pillow, eyelids flying shut. 

Eddie even adds in a few loud, cartoon snores and memememes which have you fighting to control your giggles.

Penny’s stare is unwavering though and you can’t prove it, but you’re positive that even as a baby—she does not trust either you or Eddie to actually be sleeping while putting her down for her naps (you’ve caved a few times—it wasn’t your fault though, whenever you tried the fake sleeping bit, she’d cry to purposely ‘wake’ you up).

Her stare lasts a few moments longer and you can see the twitch of Eddie’s lips, he’s fighting not to smile. Luck is on his side, Penny’s head lulls and then shakes as she once more tries to keep sleep at bay, rubbing her cute little face and those chubby cheeks into her daddy’s shirt.

Eddie makes the mistake of peaking an eye open too early—Penny stills and her head snaps up to catch him and you don’t bother to hide your laugh at his groan as she begins to whimper, having caught on to her daddy’s trick.

“Shhh, sweet pea, please. Close those pretty eyes.” He begs, fingers gently stroking over Penny’s eyelids to close them, and Eddie holds his fingers in place, hoping when he retracts them, her lids will stay closed.

Her eyes snap open the moment he pulls his fingers away and Eddie repeats the gesture, gently dragging her eyelids closed again as she whimpers, “No, you keep those watery eyes closed and to yourself, young lady.”

It’s an empty threat, Eddie’s already readjusting her as he sits up, shooting you a playful glare as he spots you. His next sentence is still directed at the baby in his arms, “You can’t keep getting away with this.”

Penny just whimpers and whines louder as she becomes more fussy, wiggling in her dad’s arms.

“Oh, yeah. You’re not getting out of this one, you are in desperate need of a na-AAHHH! AHHH! HELP! HELP!” Eddie yelps as Penny grasps onto his hair, pulling it with all her might. She can’t even crawl yet, and somehow, she’s got the strength of Hercules in that chunky, dimpled little fist. Eddie’s head is yanked to the side and he’s positive some of his hair will remain in her fist after he gets her to release him.

“Ow, ow—little help here, baby!” He calls out to you and you’re laughing the entire time as you pad over, taking her wrist into one hand as you gently pry her little fingers open. It’s a bit of a challenge, you get one little piggy to release its ironhold, and the moment you move onto the next, she clenches it back into place. 

When you’re down to her pinky, Penny immediately lunges for the curls dangling over Eddie’s other shoulder, and he doesn't grab her other wrist quick enough to stop her, “OH MY GOD, YOU CUTE LITTLE DEMON! Stop it! Release me at once!”

“Hey—she was part of your sperm count.” You can’t stop giggling and Eddie doesn’t look all that amused as he winces when Penny gives a particularly harsh tug on the hair in her other fist, still whimpering.

“I’m acutely aware—ow—that’s why I called her a cute demon—ahah, get it?—OW. Insider knowledge—ow! Okay, that’s it. You are taking this nap whether you like it or not now, you’ve just made this personal.”

[eccentricallygothic]

You get sick but you hate the doctor and his healing remedies so Daddy!Ari Levinson/Andy Barber…

Oh my God?

The man is like an actual parent?

Like, sometimes you have to remind him that he's your Daddy and not your Dad (and get punished for it)!

Whether it is Andy or Ari, both are such naggy old men and so fucking sharp at picking up the smallest of anomalies and differences in your behavior and condition because of their jobs that it is annoying. 

For instance;

One dark eyebrow raises at you when he notices your chatterbox is uncharacteristically quiet today. Because -not that he is complaining or ungrateful- usually your voice runs his old man ears raw. And when you avoid his eyes as you take way more interest in his preparation of breakfast because your baby sloth ass could never, his Daddy antennas are up and steering around in vigilance before you can blink your next. 

You just nuzzle closer into your stuffie and suppress a cough because the pain in your head and nose is nothing compared to what his treatment entails. In your little mind, dealing with this is better than Daddy finding out you're sick. 

The older man puts down the spatula and since his hands are all you let yourself see, it is impossible for you not to notice when he puts them on his hips. You chew on your bottom lip and stare at his belt for a few moments while praying hard that he resumes his work but your Daddy can be just as stubborn as you. 

And when you do look up, his suspicion is making his burly appearance even more intimidating than it already is. You cannot help but gulp. You give him a confused look with a little shrug of your shoulders. Unfortunately for you, the two of you have been over this one too many times. 

“Say something.” The simple command comes out a menacing order because of the baritone quality of his voice and the way his muscular arms cross over his broad chest serves only to make you feel even smaller. He raises an eyebrow. 

You shrug in pretend puzzlement again, eyes looking at him like he is being weird when you are the one giving yourself away. Your voice is one of the first things to change when you are nearing a flu or a similar sickness so after you realized that it is what your Daddy catches on, your great idea was simply not to speak. 

Sadly for you, you can never outsmart your old man. 

“I want you to say something, now.” You dumbly sign him ‘what?’ and completely damn yourself but you're too small and slow to realize it just yet. 

It is painfully obvious, honestly. You are hugging your sickness time teddy that your Daddy jokingly named Mr. Sicky because of how he only gets attention when you're under the weather, your nose is red, your eyes are glazed and your body that curls in on itself on the kitchen island chair looks like it's on the verge of crying like a little baby because of how sensitive you tend to become. 

“Okay, fine” he puts the kitchen towel that was hanging by his shoulder down on the counter and kills the stove before walking around the barrier separating the two of you, big arms reaching to grab a hold of you. “Come here” your eyes widen and though your heavy head pounds from how you jump off your seat, a painful escape is better than meddies and his old man remedies. 

But alas!

Your grizzly of a Daddy is too fast. 

You furiously shake your head and kick your limbs like an agitated hedgehog to try and break free from your cruel captor, still refusing to utter a single syllable and trying to avoid his prying hand so he can't find his way to your throat. 

“Stay still” he deeply grunts, easily holding you up in the air and against his strong chest with an ironhold around your waist all by one arm. 

You growl and bare your teeth like an angry pupper trying to bark at an adult husky. 

“Ughhh—”

“There we go~” the older man drawls out in satisfaction when he locates the damage with the use of his old man methods by feeling for swelling under your jaw and behind your ears. “I knew it.” 

“Let go, meanie!” He hums in triumphant sarcasm when you finally let your nasal voice loose. “Ugh!” You try to crane your head away from him, legs furiously fighting a lost battle. “I don't like you!” 

Your Daddy is so not impressed and completely unbothered. “Too bad.” The sheer lack of effort it takes him to hook your protestant form to his hip as he walks to the sink to fill up a pot with water is in stark contrast to the energy you're putting into your unsuccessful escape. 

“I dun want! I dun want! I dun want!” He doesn't even grunt as he places the pot on the stove and turns it on to boil with his free hand. “NO!” Next he leans over the counter to phone your usual doctor just because he does not like to use medication carelessly.  “This abusive!” You are so tired and sore that you cannot even properly speak but you swear to yourself that you will die before you let him put you in that stupid steam treatment that always suffocates you. 

(You will lose because your brutish bear Daddy will tightly hold you against him under the blanket until the steam forces your blocked pathways open but a brat can dream) 

“Babies are too small to know or decide what's right for them” he is slightly distracted as he softly squints at the dialer like the oldie he is. “Now shush so Daddy can speak to Uncle Steve.” That is, the name of your Doctor who is another meanie because he's besties with your villain of a Daddy. He always has great fun recommending you ewie gargles.

“Nu…” You whisper in despair as your words melt into a cough. All you can do is watch your blurred reflection in one of the fridge doors as you hang sideways, the deep voice of your Daddy filling your ears as he props the phone against his shoulder to take out ingredients for one of the many soups you will be cursed to for the next few days.

You hate soups! 

Especially the sick time ones! 

Daddy always tells you you're being dramatic but he will never be able to fool you! You just know he puts extra ewie healing things -probably recommendations of his be(a)stie!- in them that always make the soups taste so old man recipe-like! You puff your cheeks and glare at the stupid celery stalks that he places upon the chicken container.

You may be sick, but that will not stop you from going to war before your old man can put a spoon of that in your mouth!

[loeyshandtattoo]

the lady of moonreach

SECOND CHAPTER, Whispers in the Shadows

chapter summary: Namra still insists on the restoration of Moonreach, and manages to have an upper hand with her new friend, despite that, it doesn't grant her the immunity from the members of the council, not even the feelings that she is slowly growing for the king-conqueror. wc: 3.7k

THE MORNING SUN CAST ALONG THE SHADOWS AT STONEHEARTH, where the scars of war were still evident despite the city's efforts to heal. As I walked through the bustling streets, the contrasts were stark—rebuilt homes and vibrant markets stood side by side with remnants of past destruction. Chanyeol and I had made headway in revitalizing the capital, but the crucial matter of Moonreach loomed large over our efforts.

That is why, the council again has called for a meeting, and this time it was to make peace on the incident the other day about the supposed plans on Moonreach's restoration initiative.

In the council chamber, Chanyeol sat at the head of the table, his gaze fixed on the array of documents before him. The tension from the previous meeting still hung in the air, the friction between us palpable. Junmyeon, Chanyeol’s advisor, was present, and his role in our current predicament was undeniable.

From what I know, Junmyeon owns a piece of land in the Verdantia, where the House Baek rules over in the confines of Greenwood Keep, and Junmyeon managed to have owned hectares of land and named the estate, Eldergrove Keep. His political background is quite remarkable given his family history, whom have been a loyal political advisor to the king, but at this case, he trusts my side, and that is the one he's about to defend in this meeting.

“Moonreach needs to be our priority,” I said firmly, breaking the silence. “It’s not just a castle; it’s a symbol of our commitment to the northern regions and to the legacy of Lord Greenwell.”

Chanyeol looked up, his eyes narrowing. “Namra, I’m aware of its significance, but resources are limited. We can’t simply divert them from other pressing needs.”

Junmyeon interjected smoothly, “Lord Greenwell’s estate was more than just a symbol; it was a vital strategic location. Restoring Moonreach could stabilize the northern regions and reinforce our control there. It’s not only about sentiment; it’s about strategy.”

Chanyeol’s jaw tightened. He was clearly struggling with the implications. “Fine. We’ll allocate the resources for Moonreach. But you, Namra, will need to oversee the process.”

I nodded, meeting his gaze steadily. “I’ll handle it.”

As the meeting concluded, the strained atmosphere between Chanyeol and me was almost tangible. His reluctance was evident, but I was determined to press on. The urgency of the restoration was more than just a task—it was a mission driven by personal stakes and the memory of Lord Greenwell.

As we exited the council room, Chanyeol’s gaze lingered on Junmyeon. There was a flicker of irritation in his eyes, an insecurity that had become more pronounced since our earlier discussions. I could sense the undercurrent of rivalry, a tension that went beyond mere politics.

In the corridors, Chanyeol caught up with me, his expression resolute. “Namra, don’t think for a moment that I’m underestimating the importance of Moonreach. But I need you to understand that this kingdom’s survival is at stake. Every decision we make has consequences.”

His voice was clipped, his frustration barely contained. “I understand,” I said, matching his tone. “But Moonreach is not a luxury; it’s a necessity.”

Chanyeol’s eyes met mine with a mix of defiance and something softer—a flicker of understanding perhaps, buried beneath the surface. “Very well. I’ll support your efforts, but don’t expect me to stand idly by if things go awry.”

Right after the conversation, he returned to his office, where he can continue stressing over the political matters of the kingdom.

The corridors of Ironhold were abuzz with the muted echoes of footsteps and murmured conversations. The high ceilings and grand tapestries spoke of a bygone era of opulence, but the current atmosphere was heavy with the weight of political tension. As I walked through the hallways, my mind was preoccupied with the recent council meeting. The debate over Moonreach had not only been a professional ordeal but a deeply personal one.

Finally, things were turning to my favor.

I turned a corner, my steps slowing as I saw Junmyeon waiting near a grand window overlooking the courtyard. His presence was calm, his demeanor always one of composed authority. His sharp eyes met mine as I approached, a subtle nod acknowledging my arrival.

“Namra,” Junmyeon greeted, his tone warm but measured. “I was hoping we could talk. The council meeting seemed particularly intense today.”

I offered a small, appreciative smile. “Yes, it was. I’m glad you’re here. I was hoping to discuss the next steps for Moonreach. There’s still so much to be done, and your input has been invaluable.”

Junmyeon gestured for me to follow him to a quieter corner of the hall, away from the bustling activity. We stood by a large map of the kingdom displayed on the wall, a detailed depiction of the land with various territories marked.

“I’m glad to see that Chanyeol has agreed to prioritize Moonreach,” Junmyeon said, his eyes scanning the map. “It’s a crucial step, not just for the northern regions, but for the entire kingdom’s stability.”

I nodded, appreciating his continued support. “Indeed. But there are still obstacles—both logistical and political. I worry about the challenges ahead.”

Junmyeon’s expression turned thoughtful. “Restoring Moonreach is more than a symbolic gesture; it’s about reinforcing our northern defenses and showing our commitment to those who have been loyal to the crown.”

I glanced at him, sensing a deeper understanding in his words. “You seem particularly invested in this. Why?”

Junmyeon looked at me with a hint of surprise, then offered a small, almost self-deprecating smile. “You’ve caught me. My family’s history has always been intertwined with the political landscape of Iris. My estate, Eldergrove Keep, has been a center of strategy and diplomacy. Supporting Moonreach is not just a personal favor; it’s a way to ensure that the northern regions remain stable.”

“Your support has been crucial,” I said sincerely. “But I can’t help feeling that there’s more to it. Your involvement seems… personal.”

Junmyeon met my gaze steadily. “Perhaps. I believe in what Moonreach represents. It’s a symbol of resilience, and with the kingdom’s future so uncertain, we need every symbol of strength we can get.”

I sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and uncertainty. “Chanyeol’s reluctance has been palpable. I can sense his frustration, especially with how closely you and I have been working together.”

Junmyeon’s eyes softened with understanding. “Chanyeol has his own burdens to bear. The pressure of leadership can be overwhelming, and sometimes it manifests as frustration or insecurity. His struggle with prioritizing Moonreach is a reflection of his broader concerns for the kingdom.”

We stood in silence for a moment, the gravity of our conversation sinking in. Junmyeon’s presence was a comforting constant amidst the chaos.

“I appreciate your perspective,” I said finally. “And I’m grateful for your support. It means more than you know.”

Junmyeon offered a reassuring smile. “We’re all in this together, Namra. The kingdom’s future relies on our collective efforts. If there’s anything more I can do to help, you have my word.”

As we continued to discuss the finer points of the restoration and strategy, the connection between us grew stronger. Junmyeon’s support was not just political; it was a genuine commitment to the kingdom’s wellbeing, and it was clear that our shared goals were forging a meaningful alliance.

The conversation eventually drew to a close, and as I prepared to leave, Junmyeon gave me a final, encouraging nod. “Keep pushing forward. We’re making progress, and every step counts.”

I watched him walk away, a sense of determination settling within me. The path ahead was fraught with challenges, but with allies like Junmyeon by my side, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. As I moved toward the next task, the halls of Ironhold seemed a little less daunting, knowing that support and understanding were within reach.

Chanyeol's POV

As I returned to the comfort of my office, my thoughts were clouded by a mix of frustration and something else—an unfamiliar sense of vulnerability. The tension between Namra and me was more than just professional; there was an undeniable personal undertone that I struggled to understand.

The way she spoke about Moonreach with such fervor, her unwavering dedication—it was both admirable and unsettling. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy whenever I saw her interact with Junmyeon. Their camaraderie, their shared understanding—it was a stark contrast to the growing distance between Namra and me.

I found myself staring out of the window of my chambers, lost in thought. Junmyeon’s influence and his closeness to Namra made me uneasy. I recalled a moment from our earlier discussions, where Junmyeon had subtly encouraged Namra’s efforts. There was something almost calculated in his support, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that his motives were not entirely pure.

I recalled a memory from a few weeks ago, when Junmyeon had suggested a strategy that had seemed to benefit both parties. At the time, I’d appreciated his insight, but now, with Namra so closely involved, I wondered if his intentions were more self-serving. His history with my family, his unspoken ambitions—these were the shadows lurking in the back of my mind.

The way Namra and Junmyeon had spoken in the council hall, the ease with which they exchanged ideas—it made me question my own position. My feelings for Namra, a strange mixture of admiration and frustration, only added to my insecurities.

I was beginning to realize that my feelings towards her were not as straightforward as I had assumed. There was an undeniable connection, a growing sense of respect that bordered on something deeper. Yet, every gesture of support seemed to come with a price, a reminder of the political and personal complexities we faced.

As I turned back to my desk, I felt the weight of the kingdom’s challenges pressing down on me. My thoughts were tangled with doubts about Junmyeon’s true motives and the growing closeness between Namra and the advisor. But beneath it all, there was an undeniable yearning for something more—a connection that transcended the political strife.

Somehow, I refuse to believe that it's anything more than having certain deeper feelings.

Namra's POV

As days passed, Chanyeol’s demeanor remained guarded, but small gestures began to shift the dynamic between us. He made an effort to consult with me directly about the progress of the restoration, and there were moments when his attention seemed to soften, if only slightly.

One evening, as I reviewed plans for Moonreach, Chanyeol appeared at my side. “How is the restoration progressing?” he asked, his voice betraying an uncharacteristic note of concern.

“It’s coming along,” I replied, glancing up. “But we’ve encountered some obstacles. We need additional resources to address them.”

Chanyeol’s brow furrowed. “I’ll see what I can do. We can’t afford delays.”

The brief exchange was loaded with unspoken tension, but beneath it, there was an undercurrent of mutual respect. Chanyeol’s willingness to assist, even in small ways, hinted at a growing recognition of the importance of our shared goals.

In the council room, Junmyeon continued to play a pivotal role, his influence evident in the strategies we implemented. Chanyeol’s frustration with Junmyeon was palpable, but there were moments when he acknowledged the advisor’s contributions, if begrudgingly.

Meanwhile, the situation in Dawnspire remained tense. Lady Ambers was grappling with political instability, and her challenges were a stark reminder of the broader issues facing the kingdom. Chanyeol’s focus on these issues sometimes overshadowed his interactions with me, but there were brief instances where he seemed to appreciate the gravity of our situation.

As I worked tirelessly on the restoration of Moonreach, the weight of the task was ever-present. The castle’s rebuilding was more than a physical endeavor; it was a symbol of hope and renewal for the kingdom. And despite the ongoing friction, Chanyeol’s sporadic gestures of support hinted at a slowly thawing relationship.

The early evening light cast long, dramatic shadows through the grand windows of Ironhold, painting the stone floors in warm hues. The hallways were quieter now, the clamor of the day giving way to an eerie calm. I had been heading towards the archives to review the restoration plans for Moonreach, seeking solitude amidst the castle’s grandeur.

As I rounded a corner, I nearly bumped into Chanyeol, who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. His sudden presence made my heart skip a beat. I looked up into his intense gaze, and for a moment, time seemed to stretch between us.

“Namra,” he said, a hint of surprise coloring his voice. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

I stepped back, regaining my composure. “Just heading to the archives. The restoration plans need my attention.”

Chanyeol’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I was actually on my way there myself. Perhaps we could walk together? It’s been a while since we had a chance to talk without the usual constraints.”

His suggestion was unexpected, but I agreed, and we started down the corridor side by side. The space between us seemed to crackle with an electric charge, our proximity heightening the tension.

“I’ve been thinking,” Chanyeol began, his voice low and deliberate, “about our last conversation. You were quite insistent on Moonreach.”

I turned to face him, meeting his gaze with equal intensity. “Moonreach isn’t just a restoration project. It’s a symbol of hope and commitment. It’s personal.”

Chanyeol’s expression hardened momentarily. “Personal, yes. But what about the broader issues? The instability in Dawnspire, for instance—are they less important?”

I chose my words carefully. “Every issue is significant, but Moonreach holds a deeper meaning for me. It’s not merely about strategy; it’s about honoring a legacy.”

Chanyeol’s eyes darkened, his internal struggle evident. “And yet, sometimes I wonder if you’re more invested in this project than in the kingdom’s other needs.”

Before I could reply, we reached the archives. The room seemed too large and impersonal for the conversation we were having. Chanyeol’s eyes met mine with a mixture of frustration and something else—an unspoken vulnerability.

“Perhaps we should continue this conversation somewhere more private,” he suggested, his tone softer but charged with an edge of tension.

We found a small, secluded study room just off the main corridor. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of evening light filtering through the narrow windows. It was intimate, the warmth of the setting creating a cocoon around us.

As we entered, Chanyeol’s demeanor shifted subtly. He leaned against a table, his posture relaxed yet exuding an air of controlled intensity. “Namra,” he began, his voice dropping to a hushed tone, “I value your dedication, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more behind your actions.”

I stood close to him, the proximity causing my pulse to quicken. “And what makes you think that?”

Chanyeol’s eyes bore into mine, a storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface. “It’s the way you speak of Moonreach. As if it’s not just a task but a deeply personal mission.”

The space between us seemed to shrink, the air growing thicker with tension. Chanyeol’s gaze flickered between my eyes and my lips, his breath coming slightly uneven. “Sometimes,” he continued, his voice almost a whisper, “I feel like there’s a part of you that’s deliberately hidden.”

The moment hung heavy with unspoken tension. Chanyeol’s vulnerability was palpable, and I could feel the magnetic pull between us. The briefest touch of his hand against mine sent a shiver down my spine.

“I’m driven by my commitment,” I said, my voice low and steady. “But if you feel there’s more, you should be open about it.”

Chanyeol’s gaze lingered on me, his expression a mix of frustration and something softer—an unspoken longing. “Perhaps you’re right. But it’s hard to ignore the way we seem to clash and connect simultaneously.”

Our faces were inches apart now, the warmth of his breath mingling with mine. The tension was almost unbearable, and I could see the struggle in his eyes—an internal battle between restraint and the pull of something deeper.

Before I could react, the door creaked open slightly, a distant sound breaking the moment. Chanyeol took a step back, his expression a conflicted mixture of desire and frustration. “We should focus on our tasks,” he said, his voice returning to its usual clipped tone. “There’s too much at stake.”

I nodded, trying to steady my own racing heart. “Yes, of course. We both have our roles to play.”

As we left the room, the silence between us was charged with the residue of our interaction. The connection was undeniable, yet shrouded in the uncertainty of what lay ahead. Chanyeol’s guarded demeanor and the intensity of our exchange left me with a sense of anticipation—and a lingering tension that promised further complications.

However, a part of me can't help but of the feeling being watched. As if someone is monitoring my every move, and that wants to make me plan step ahead.

Third Person POV

As dusk fell over Stonehearth, the grand halls of Ironhold were cloaked in shadows, the fading light casting eerie patterns on the stone walls. Junmyeon, having just finished his duties for the day, decided to take a walk to clear his mind. His thoughts were still occupied with the ongoing tensions between Chanyeol and Namra, as well as the looming threat of unrest in the kingdom.

He wandered through the dimly lit corridors of Ironhold, taking a path he rarely used. His steps were muffled by the thick carpets that lined the halls, and the soft glow of wall sconces provided just enough light to navigate by. As he approached a secluded part of the castle, he noticed a faint glow coming from under a door slightly ajar.

Curiosity piqued, Junmyeon moved closer, pressing his ear against the crack of the door. Through the narrow opening, he could hear the low murmur of voices. The room on the other side seemed to be a private chamber, often used for discreet meetings. Junmyeon’s instincts told him that something significant was happening behind that door.

Carefully, he inched the door open just enough to peer inside. What he saw made his pulse quicken.

One of the councilors, a burly man with a scar across his cheek, was speaking in hushed tones.

“We can’t let this opportunity slip away. With the unrest in Dawnspire and the focus on Moonreach, this is the perfect time to act.”

A second councilor, a woman with sharp features and calculating eyes, nodded in agreement. “The kingdom is divided. Chanyeol’s obsession with Moonreach has left other regions vulnerable. If we make our move now, we could strengthen our position significantly.”

Junmyeon’s eyes narrowed as he listened intently.

“We need to leverage this,” the burly councilor continued. “If we can undermine Chanyeol’s support in the northern regions, we can weaken his hold on the throne. Our allies in the northern territories are already feeling the strain. We just need to push them further.”

“The resources being diverted to Moonreach could have been used elsewhere, possibly in ways that would benefit us. We can’t let him consolidate his power too easily,” the first voice continued.

"The restoration plans should not be overlooked as well. See to it that what can be done to weaken the loyal alliances of the conqueror should remain that way."

"Agreed. The northerners have always been the easiest people to deal with especially now that we have the Lady of Moonreach at the palm of our hand."

Another councilor, a younger man with a nervous demeanor, chimed in. “And what about the reports of Chanyeol’s increased consultations with Namra? It seems he’s growing closer to her. Should we be concerned?”

"Definitely, saw each other earlier, the king-conqueror is on his knees for the beauty of that whore."

The woman with the calculating eyes leaned in. “Good. We’ll use that to our advantage. If Chanyeol’s focus is divided between Namra and the kingdom’s issues, he’ll be more susceptible to our plans. We need to keep an eye on their interactions and find a way to exploit any weaknesses.”

Junmyeon’s mind raced as he absorbed the conversation. The loyalists were not only scheming to strengthen their position but also to exploit the growing tension between Chanyeol and Namra. Their plan was more dangerous than he had anticipated, involving manipulation and strategic moves to destabilize Chanyeol’s rule.

Realizing the gravity of what he had overheard, Junmyeon quietly withdrew from the door, careful not to make any noise. He needed to report this information to Chanyeol immediately, but he also knew that he had to tread carefully. Revealing that he had been eavesdropping could raise suspicions and complicate matters further.

The evening’s revelations only deepened the intrigue and danger surrounding the kingdom, and Junmyeon knew that the coming days would be crucial in determining the fate of Iris.

He knew what must be done.

Namra's POV

As the night continue to grow, I walked beside Asia through the dimly lit corridors of Ironhold. The weight of the day’s events lingered, casting a shadow over our conversation. Chanyeol’s reactions, the looming issues with Moonreach—everything seemed to be tangled in an intricate web.

After hearing of what had happened between Chanyeol and I, Asia whispered my name.

“Namra,” Asia said quietly, her voice breaking the silence. Her tone was serious, and I could sense the weight behind her words. “We need to talk.”

I looked at her, noting the concern etched on her face. “What is it?”

Asia hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I’ve noticed how close you’ve become with Chanyeol. I just want to remind you of something important.”

I frowned, my curiosity piqued. “What about Chanyeol?”

Asia’s expression was a mix of worry and resolve. “You need to be careful. I understand that there are feelings involved, but you have to remember why we’re here. It’s easy for emotions to complicate things, and I wouldn’t want that to jeopardize what we’re working towards.”

I took a deep breath, trying to understand her perspective. “I’m trying to keep my emotions in check. It’s just that… sometimes it’s hard to separate everything.”

Asia’s gaze softened. “I know it’s not easy. But our focus needs to remain clear. We can’t let personal entanglements distract us from our goals.”

Before I could respond, Asia signaled that we had reached our destination. “Junmyeon is expecting us. He wants to meet us in the observatory tower.”

The observatory tower was a secluded place in Ironhold, offering a panoramic view of the city. It felt like an appropriate setting for a private conversation.

As we entered the tower, Junmyeon was already there, standing by the large window that framed the night sky. The room was dimly lit, the glow of lanterns casting soft shadows across the stone walls.

“Namra, Asia,” Junmyeon greeted us with a nod. “Thank you for coming.”

I nodded back, exchanging a glance with Asia before we moved closer to Junmyeon. His demeanor was serious, and I could sense that he had important information to share.

“Before we begin,” Junmyeon said, his voice low, “I need to bring something to your attention. There are troubling rumors circulating among certain factions within the council. It seems that some members are plotting against Chanyeol.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Plotting against Chanyeol? What do you mean?”

Junmyeon’s expression darkened. “I’ve overheard discussions suggesting that there are plans to undermine his authority. The details are vague, but there are hints of a scheme to discredit him and destabilize his rule.”

Asia’s eyes widened slightly. “And who’s behind this?”

Junmyeon shook his head. “I don’t have a clear answer yet. It could be individuals who are dissatisfied with the current leadership or who have their own agendas. What’s certain is that Chanyeol is at risk.”

I exchanged a worried glance with Asia. This revelation was unsettling, and it only heightened the complexity of our situation. “What should we do?”

Junmyeon’s gaze was firm. “For now, we need to be vigilant. I’m working on gathering more information, but I wanted you both to be aware of the potential threat. Keep your eyes and ears open.”

As Junmyeon spoke, the cool night air from the observatory window seemed to chill my bones. The stakes were higher than I had imagined, and the sense of urgency was palpable.

When the meeting concluded, Asia and I left the observatory, the weight of Junmyeon’s words hanging heavily in the air. The cool night breeze did little to ease the tension. I could sense the danger that loomed over us, a shadow of uncertainty that added to the already complicated situation.

Asia’s earlier warning about maintaining focus seemed even more relevant now. As we walked back to our quarters, the city of Stonehearth spread out below us, its lights twinkling in the distance. The path ahead was fraught with challenges, and the potential threat against Chanyeol only added to the precarious balance we needed to maintain.

"I need to leave for Silverhaven immediately," Asia announced as we found the comfort of our bedchambers.

I took a deep breath, "Why, I need you here at this time and hour."

"As Lady of Silverhaven, I must ensure that my domain remains loyal and secure. We can't afford any surprises."

I felt a pang of anxiety. "Be careful. We don't know who might be involved in this plot."

Asia flashed me a reassuring smile. "I'll take every precaution. And remember, stay vigilant."

With that, Asia prepared to leave, her departure adding another layer of urgency to the situation. As she gathered her things, I felt a lingering growing sense of unease.

The morning sun spilled its warm light over Ironhold, casting a gentle glow on the bustling city below. The air was filled with the soft murmur of early activity, a stark contrast to the tension that had characterized the past few days. As I stood at the gates of Ironhold, I felt a pang of sadness mixed with resolve. Today was the day Asia would leave for Eldoria, and I was determined to make sure she departed with all the support she needed.

Asia approached, her travel attire neatly pressed and her expression a mix of determination and nostalgia. She carried herself with the grace of someone who was both a noble and a warrior, her presence commanding respect and affection. Her dark hair, tied back into a practical braid, framed her face, highlighting the seriousness of the mission ahead.

"Namra," she said softly, embracing me in a tight hug. "This is a crucial time for us. I’ll gather as much intel as possible and rally our forces. We can’t afford to endanger Moonreach—it’s too important." Her voice was steady, but I could sense the weight of the task she was about to undertake.

I nodded, holding her close for a moment longer before stepping back. "I know you will," I said, trying to inject confidence into my voice despite the heaviness in my heart. "Your presence in Eldoria is vital. Lord Roderick and Lady Eveline will need your support, and I trust you’ll convince them of the urgency. Moonreach has been our home for the past five years, and it’s a part of us. We must ensure its safety."

Asia’s gaze softened as she looked at me, her eyes reflecting both affection and a shared sense of purpose. "I still remember the look on his face when he adopted us," she said with a wistful smile. "Lord Greenwell took us in when we were just lost souls, and he gave us a place to call home. We owe it to him—and to ourselves—to protect it."

The memory of Lord Greenwell’s kind eyes and the warmth of his embrace flashed in my mind. He had been a beacon of hope in our lives, offering us sanctuary and a new beginning. It was this very memory that fueled our determination to see Moonreach restored and safeguarded.

"We do," I agreed, my voice trembling slightly with emotion. "And we will. The future of Moonreach depends on us. We must ensure that the restoration is not just a physical rebuilding but also a symbol of hope for the kingdom."

As the carriage prepared for departure, Asia adjusted her cloak and gathered her belongings. Her resolve was evident in the set of her shoulders and the determined sparkle in her eyes.

"I’ll be in touch," she promised, giving me a reassuring nod. "Stay vigilant, and don’t let your guard down. The situation is delicate, and we can’t afford any missteps. Oh, and Namra, we keep our blades sharp."

With one last embrace and a final exchange of determined glances, Asia climbed into the carriage. The vehicle, drawn by sturdy horses, began to roll out of Ironhold, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. I watched it disappear down the road, feeling a mixture of pride and apprehension.

As the carriage vanished from view, I turned back towards Ironhold, steeling myself for the challenges ahead. Asia’s departure was a crucial step in our strategy, but it also marked the beginning of a new chapter in our fight to secure Moonreach and restore our home to its former glory.

Moonreach has been our home. It always has been. My thoughts drifted back to the moments right after my father’s death. I vividly remembered being taken by Ser Gareth to my sister for safety. Ser Gareth, now serving diligently as a Queensguard in Eldoria, had always been a pillar of strength. His commitment to his duty was unwavering, and I knew he continued to do his utmost best, improving with each day.

Despite the reassuring memories of Ser Gareth’s dedication, my mind kept circling back to that fateful evening months ago. The image of smoke swirling in the air, the roaring flames consuming everything in sight, and the blurred exit as I desperately sought escape were vivid and haunting. The destruction of Moonreach was a tragedy I could never fully erase from my mind.

“In the moon’s shadow, we stand strong.” Our house motto echoed in my thoughts, a constant reminder of our resilience. It was a mantra that had guided me through the darkest times. Standing strong wasn’t just about physical fortitude—it was about inner resolve and the determination to rebuild what had been lost.

The decision to return to Moonreach was not made lightly. It was a choice that required days of contemplation, a recognition of the urgent need to restore what was rightfully ours. As I packed my belongings, preparing for the journey back to Skybound, I felt a mixture of resolve and apprehension. Moonreach needed me, and it was my duty to ensure its revival.

Returning to Skybound would also provide me with the opportunity to set clear boundaries with Chanyeol. Our recent interactions had been fraught with tension, and I needed to establish a more defined separation between our personal and professional relationships. The complexity of our situation required a clear focus on the task at hand, without the added confusion of personal emotions.

As the carriage that would take Asia to Eldoria disappeared into the distance, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the challenges ahead. Moonreach awaited, and the path to its restoration was fraught with obstacles. But with the motto of my house guiding me, I was determined to face whatever lay ahead and honor the legacy of those who had come before me.

[ariesgamesandminis]

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[holykalamity]

Lady Arden Bristol, Baroness of Ironhold Keep.

Artist: narabloodeye - Artistree (site)

My OC

[aromantic-reaper]

(answer this after you read the Ironhold story)

Thoughts on the Ironhold story?

Overhyped. I was expecting more, instead all I got was bits of flesh and blood in large enough quantities to fill a small lake

[metalby]

CaelumSun [Triumph of Motherland]. 2023. Bandcamp, Spotify, Facebook, Amazon, Youtube. Twitter(metalone). S.A.MUSIC.

[icansmellu123]

The Fallen Prophet & The Living Artifact.

The Prologue.

“And when the prophets gathered around, clothed in golden streams and eyes of white clouds. Seeing true of the heavens above and the hells below, did forth come a prophet in black and a lantern in hand as he gathered his people. To bring forth a new age and a new myth not far along the way.”

Legends have told stories of an ancient artifact that was created from the concentration of magic. An oddity some would say. I am inclined to agree. Magic for centuries has been the helm, the hold of this realm’s walk and function. When the first piece of life breathed in its first ounce of air and Ahmon, god of magic and life, first took his step on the mortal plain, magic has since been the front line of all things living and dead. That is the cycle and the way of balance. But magic is not all divine and many things hold a darker side and a way to a darker path. When magic tends to concentrate itself in a closed space, say a room for example. The magic then circles itself, looking for a release that will not come, therefore the magic overlaps itself and in time melds together until finally it presses into a ball in the tight space of concentration. 

If in the event this transformation is not interrupted, then the magic will turn into a hardened form much like a crystal with the magic trapped inside the crystal. Essence as they call the crystals created from this phenomenon. Essence changes as does its capabilities. Take the Essence of Energy, a famed artifact used by the Golden Passage to power its entire nation. This Essence holds an incredible amount of energy that can power just about anything but it is of its own kind. Other Essences out there are far more different. See, I spoke of an artifact and yet I have revealed there are many but this one is different. It holds a power so great, so utterly terrifying that all who came upon it did not live to see the morning light. 

Hamel, the great sorcerer and ruler of Lathazadarus, named this artifact “Keiarch” and with a name he banished it underneath the world’s surface, even deeper than the Ironhold, home of the Dwarven kind. See the Keiarch killed any and all who tried to wield its power because its power was death. And any smart man and woman would know that death has no master, for death is its own master. Wherever the Keiarch traveled, death and calamity would follow. Birds would fall from the skies, the grass below would dry out, the skies would darken, and flowers would wilt. This is why Hamel knew, he knew deep within his heart and deep within his bones that this artifact needed to be sealed away. But I know some may wonder and wonder they shall as to why such a grand magic caster would choose to seal it rather than destroy it entirely. See that is where the stalemate arrives. 

Hamel could destroy it but he could not destroy the Essence entirely, he’d simply break the outer seal and unleash the monster of magic within and death would devastate the world or he could seal it below where none could find it and hope the gods above that all would be well. And all was well for a hundred years. Prophets spoke of the artifact, of its safety down within its seal and how none have found it and that is how many wanted it to stay.

But all good things meet a devastating obstacle eventually. And it started with a visit from a nameless prophet dressed clad in black robes. See the black was taboo to the prophets. In their culture a prophet must wear white and gold to show that they are fully fledged to their ability of sight as Ah’hari, god of sight and futures was depicted to wear white and gold when telling the fortunes of other gods. So prophets believe that you can see clearly in white and that black robes disturb the mind. That is why this prophet was refused and so was his prophecy. 

“Deep below the surface, through the pitch black spikes of a cave long forgotten. Dust covers all as gates of gold hold a secret untold. The secret lurks, untouched by others but what thou hast not heard from my brothers is that the artifact is living and breathing with thoughts of its own. Heed my word, it is more than just stone. Flesh hidden under a sealed surface, awaiting freedom and when freedom is granted all must pay, for a child neglected has much to say.”

Those were the prophet’s words and yet none listened. None even thought twice about the prophet’s words until the artifact was gone from its place, hidden below. I suppose what we can learn from this myth is that we should listen to all who speak even if we think their opinions and words are untrue. And also we should learn from this that clothing doesn’t differentiate whether or not your prophecy is true. Now this is not the end of this story because such an ending would be boring really. No, my friend, this is just the beginning.

[thelorehold]

Quest Title: The Forgeheart's Flame

Quest Giver: Thrain Ironfist, the Master Blacksmith of the Ironhold Mountains

Objective: Recover the Forgeheart's Flame, an eternal ember stolen from the heart of the Ironhold Mountains by a cunning fire giant named Volkan. This ember is the source of the dwarves' legendary smithing prowess and is vital to their way of life.

Location: The quest will take the Dwarven man through the treacherous Firepeak Pass, into the molten caverns of the Burning Depths, and finally to Volkan's lair within the Inferno Crater.

Challenges:

- Traverse the perilous mountain paths, avoiding natural hazards and hostile creatures that dwell in the high peaks.

- Solve ancient riddles carved into the stone by the first Dwarven smiths to find the hidden entrance to the Burning Depths.

- Endure the intense heat and navigate through rivers of lava in the molten caverns, using Dwarven resilience and ingenuity.

- Battle Volkan's minions and confront the fire giant himself to reclaim the Forgeheart's Flame without succumbing to the overwhelming heat.

Reward: Upon retrieving the Forgeheart's Flame, the Dwarven man will be granted a boon by the ember itself, enhancing his strength and granting him the ability to withstand and manipulate fire.

Completion: Return the Forgeheart's Flame to Thrain Ironfist, who will use it to reignite the forges of the Ironhold Mountains and bestow upon the Dwarven man a weapon or piece of armor forged in the restored flames, imbued with powerful magic.

This quest will test the Dwarven man's strength, courage, and affinity for the forge, as he seeks to restore his people's legacy and secure his place in Dwarven history.

[detectivereads]

Darkbloom EP 11

If you haven’t read Ep 10 Click here

The Abyss of Ironhold

Plant Horrors

Leaving off where B Team parted ways with what was left of A Team. Killian, Wittr and Sage go down the stairs and went down the stairs and the team hears two voices, a male and female.

From our vantage point and the group rolled high for stealth these two people didn’t see the group, they were talking about Blackthorn and K. From the way they were talking, they are in league with Blackthorn.

Knowing these are his goons, we had to dispatch them quickly and quietly. So, Sage decided to do something crazy, she actives her Halo of Spores which helped big time. Sneaking over to the female and getting closer so her spores can take effect, both people start choking.

With this happening, Sage dispatched the female quickly, and Killian tries to one shot the guy with his arrow, he doesn’t die. Wittr tries to shoot her trident at him but rolled low and misses.

This guy starts to rage, Killian shoots another arrow the guy deflects, and the guy starts to look at me.

Then in a brilliant move Ohava (Wittr’s pet stag) comes in and finished him off by goring him. Going through their stuff is nothing worth noting. So, the group looks around and what they find to the room off to the left a room filled with people behind bars. Taking a closer look at these people, these guys were peasants. Talking to them they explain they were kidnapped off the streets and every so often someone would come and take one or two of them away and they are not seen again.

Sage was set to release them and give the weapons from the two people from the other room to a few people that are strong enough to protect the group, she also makes a map and shows where the exit is located.

Sage does detect magic on the bars, she goes and tries to open the gate and it latches on to her and hurts her. Wittr then remembers she has a magic key that can open locks, so she goes over and touches the bars and it release the prisoners and Sage.

Sage and Wittr hands the weapons and the map to the leader, Sage tells him “Find Harbormaster Ben tell him that Sage, Wittr & Killian sent you.” The prisoners leave.

Leaving the room, the group sees another door and approaches the door, before getting to the door the group hears growling and then the door starts to rattle like there was something thrown against it. On the door there was like a peek hole to see what is in the room. Sage and Wittr both see several plant-like dogs and they are very angry.

Sage tries to use her Druidic language and tries to talk to the creature with, no dice, but she does hear the voice that she heard before entering Ironhold, when she meditated to unlock her Circle of Spores. The voice tells her “Unfriendly” or “they don’t speak your language.” The group leaves.

Through the course of the dungeon the group finds a lot of money and loot and traps, the kind of cement that this place is a smugglers hideout.

The group finds one room filled with people but there are not just peasants but noble people in here as well, but these people have been mutated with plants. Sage asking Killian “What the heck is Ironhold doing here?” Killian has no idea what’s going on, that he never knew that there something under Ironhold.

Sage takes out her Tomb of Recording and makes notes of the room and what the contents. Sage gets the idea of getting a sample for Eve to run a test on. Using Mage Hand, she picks one of the petals off the nearest person, to her horror she hurt the person, but the plants are in control and sets them back up (they had slump over).

Sage tells Killian as soon as they leave here, she is paying his wife a visit.

Puzzle Room of Death

The group finds this long room that has alcoves on each side of the room grand total of 6, Sage gets the idea of getting pebbles and see is she could trigger traps. However once enter the room the door locks behind the group and the alcoves had statues holding stone bowls, they start shooting fire.

Wittr, who is fireproof, races across the room where there is three holes, a triangle hole and lever.  Wittr stabs one of the holes with her javelin and the first alcoves fire bowls start shoot fire a lot faster.

I do remember at one point, me the player, didn’t think something through and the looks on the DM and Wittr’s player face was like “what?”

In one of the previous rooms the group got silk, and in this room Wittr ripped one of the bowls off the group though they can use it as counterweights, but it starts sputtering magma on the floor. So, Sage’s bright idea was having Wittr take the silk and stop the magma pipe by clogging it. Sage then came back to her sense remember silk will burn.

With much panicking the group got through without dying.

Baby Land Shark Do do do

Leaving the death room, the group finds more plant people, and a cell that has a baby land shark, de-pawed. In the last room the group finds 3 Mer people. (Mer folk)

They explained there were two more of them, and how they were going to meet someone with very plants and that’s when they got jump. They also ask if the group comes across the two that are missing.

The group releases them, but Sage and Wittr both ask them if they can take the baby Land Shark with them. A little reluctance on their part but they go ahead and take the baby with them. (The land shark from the early campaign could be its parent.) Sage did what she did before and gives them a map of Ironhold and warns them about plant people.

The groups bid each other goodbye.

A very Handy Room and Sad Memories

Almost done with exploring the top half of Ironhold catacombs, the group goes into the last few rooms. Enter the first the group notices that this room is fancy, in the middle of the room there were three pedestals that had urns and, on the side, where pictures of ships of different makes and models and names and dates.

Sage started talking to Killian, what if this place was one of Blackthorn hideouts. But Killian said, “why would Blackthorn break out of his own base, and the amount of time that has been put down here there was no way the guards would ignore this, unless the Warden and some of the guards were in on it.”

Thinking that it was another puzzle the group proceeded into the next room where there was a red carpet and on the sides of the carpets more displays.

In the displays was the half of an arm (forearm, hand) there was a spike jammed through it and in the palm of the head was a coin. On the wooden part of the pedestals were names and dates. So, the group start going through the each of the pedestals until Sage see a familiar name… Urghat Scarletspear. It also had the date of his execution.

Sage grabs Killian and brings him over to the case and asks if this thing is booby trap to which he says no.

Sage immediately grabs the glass part when the coin flips in the hand, she then sees a little half-elf girl with bright red hair, smiling up at her, hold a leather bag “Look Urghat, I found a clue!” Sage hears a soft chuckle of a deep familiar voice “Well done dear.” The coin flips and Sage is back to present day. Sage then had a sudden moment of clarity that this base is not Blackthorns, it’s K. Yes, Sage did cry at this moment.

Sage explains that her thoughts and what she thought, thinking that these people have crossed K in some way.

(The DM explains as morbid trophy not only the hand was taken but the fondest and precious memory of the victim as well. I would also add that I was tearing up when he described the scene.)

Wittr finds one and tests this and she see a memory of woman laying on the bed she was talking to the guy/Wittr.  Guy/Wittr says “Marianne, this is the start of our very long life together.”

Wittr goes through the hands, and she finds a hand that has a special tattoo on the hand, mark of her order. Wittr sees the head priest and memory of the person being inducted into the order.

Killian found a someone that died last year, the memory they stop a Yi Ti murderer. Killian knows that this person that worked alongside Ben. Killian and the guard assumed that Blackthorn had killed this man, but it turns out it was K.

Sage takes the name plates and the hands and puts them in the Bag of Holding.

The group proceeds further in and finds a door they open it, and they hear voices.

Shocking Revelations

The group hears three voices, one voice yelling about a key and how K is not going to trap them in the lab here.

Another is trying to convince the first voice to drop this and flee. Sage cast message to both Wittr and Killian when we found out that these three one is Blackthorn and the other Arron Flint. Who is the son of Blackthorn. To leave the room and call Ben and ask what’s ETA on him coming back and to put the Warden on the stone.

The Warden has already left to catch up with us. But doesn’t have sending stone. And Ben should be back in 20 minutes.

Sage who climbed the wall and had been spying on the conversation of the room started looking for the key. It took a few rolls and a change of position she finds a key hidden in a tapestry. She gets it and leaves without the three of smugglers noticing.

Wittr goes to break the lock on the door, and we barricaded them in.

(End Session)

Player’s notes

Ok I had some major feelings in this one with the memory of Urghat.

But this also answers several questions but the biggest one was.

How did the Uggos know Sage, if they were in league with K, they could have seen this memory and know Sage that way.

Oh in one of the rooms Sage got a Helm of Comprehend Languages, she will learn every language of the world by this point Muhahahaha.

[in1-nutshell]

Hi! Can you do TF 'what if…' request? What if Ophelia and Ironhold live in TFA Silver Aid universe or having TFA versions of Ophelia & Ironhold?

Where Ophelia and Ironhold (and with Steve & Rumble who are in their Pre-relationships with the Buddies), are transport to TFA universe, and also Join the Decepticon. Years later, Silver became techno-organic & joins Decepticon, and she became friends (and later mother figure) with Ophelia and Ironhold

You can also add Ophelia's & Ironhold's (future) conjuxes

I did the intro to the Ophelia and Ironhold with Silver Aid.

Hope you enjoy!

TFA Version of Ophelia and Ironhold Featuring Silver Aid

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Hinted Romance, Cybertronian reader/ techno organic reader

TFA

Megatron met the two as sparklings.

It was a couple of months into the war’s ending when Megatron had helped Shockwave sneak into the city.

He wasn’t going to leave his only spy at the gates, the warlord went in and made sure the disguise worked.

Once Shockwave left, Megatron started his way back to the ship when he heard rustling over by some nearby crates.

He went towards the crates and peaked inside.

Inside were two sparklings.

The smaller one had place herself in front of the larger one, attempting to shield them from his gaze.

It was clear as day that the smaller one was trembling in front of his optics, but she refused to move.

The bigger sparkling was also shaking but held a glare on their face.

Megatron looked down at the crate and found something written on it with a city seal.

‘DEFECTIVE BOTS. REMOVE IMMEDEATLY.’

It left a bad taste in his mouth seeing the sparklings titled as ‘defective’.

He didn’t see anything wrong with them.

Who was given the right to already name these bots as ‘defective’?

Megatron returns to the ship with two crates in his servos.

Lugnut is by his side in an instant.

Lugnut: “Lord Megatron! You have returned!”

Megatron: “Hush. I finally got them to stop making so much noise.”

Blitzwing and Starscream come to his side.

Blitzwing grabs one of the crates filled to the brim with energon.

Starscream spots something moving in the other crate.

Starscream: “What in the name of Cybertron—”

The Seeker pauses when he sees 2 pairs of optics stare right at him.

Starscream: “Are-are those sparklings?!”

His screeching caused the bigger sparkling to start shaking.

The smaller one started frantically patting their servo.

Megatron: “Starscream keep your voice low!”

The smaller sparkling then started chirping rapidly as the bigger sparkling started shaking even worse.

The mechs tried to cover their audials when they both started shrieking.

Blitzwing: “This is worse than Starscream stubbing his pede!”

Starscream: “Shut them up!”

Lugnut: “Do not speak to the sparklings with that language!”

Megatron: “…”

It wasn’t everyday you’d see the great leader of the Decepticon armada trying to shush a trembling sparkling, while another one was hanging on for dear life on his helm plating.

Megatron insisted that the sparklings were only going to stay temporarily on the ship until they came to a more suitable place to leave them.

But one night turned into two, then three, then four, then five…

Blitzwing’s Random was playing with the smaller sparkling, making silly faces and smile widening more with the sounds of the sparklings laugh.

The bigger sparkling was sitting on the ground listening to Lugnut tell another victorious battle Megatron had led them.

Megatron was watching over them from afar.

Starscream huffed by his side.

Starscream: “I think Quaker would be a good name.”

Megatron looks at his Second in Command.

Megatron: “What?”

Starscream: “For the bigger sparkling, I mean. I was thinking Rattler for the little one.”

Megatron: “What are you blundering about?”

Starscream: “They need names Megatron, calling them ‘the bigger sparkling’ and ‘smaller one’ are not proper names.”

Megatron: “To give them names is to get attached. We are still dropping them off at the nearest—”

Starscream laughs humorlessly.

Starscream: “We have passed several places for the sparklings to be taken in. Each one you have made the same excuse of it not being good enough for them. So, my question Megatron, is who are you trying to fool?”

Megatron: “I am not fooling anyone Starscream and choose your next words wisely.”

Starscream: “You’ve become attached to them just like the rest of us. So, drop the act and admit it—”

The bigger sparkling squealed in delight at Lugnut’s theatrics.

Then the bigger sparkling turned to look at Megatron with the biggest grin on their face.

Bigger sparkling: “Megatron!”

All the adult Cons: “…”

It was safe to say that he was going to keep them, no one argued otherwise.

Shortly after that, Megatron arranged a naming ceremony for the sparklings.

Officially putting the pair into the Decepticon record as part of the cause.

The big sparkling was named Ironhold.

The smaller sparkling was named Ophelia.

There were many calls from other Decepticon’s wanting to see the new recruits.

Many of them were surprised to see the recruits being sparklings, but nonetheless, they were pleased to see the little ones.

As time went on the sparklings changed as well.

Ophelia was the first to start growing, stopping around the Con’s knees.

The Con’s figured that she was a minibot after a couple more days without any sign of growth.

Ophelia didn’t mind being small.

It meant her uncles and father could still carry her around without any strain.

Plus! She could get into places the others couldn’t get into.

Megatron looking around.

Lugnut with Ironhold in his servo.

Lugnut: “Lord Megatron, are you looking for something?”

Megatron: “Ophelia needs some repairs done but absolutely refuses to come out of hiding.”

Lugnut: “My Lord—”

Megatron: “We will talk about Ironhold’s repairs later. Ophelia! You can run but you can’t hide!”

Starscream and Blitzwing walk to Lugnut’s side.

They watch Megatron walking out of the room with Ophelia holding onto some of his back plating with a mischief smile on her face.

Ironhold looks at Starscream: “Why can’t I tell him?”

Starscream: “Because little one.”

Ironhold: “Because what?”

Starscream: “…If I give you a rust stick will you keep it quiet for a couple more minutes?”

Ironhold: “Deal!”

The others assumed that Ironhold was also going to be a minibot seeing as they had grown an inch.

They were even smaller than Ophelia!

Something the bot hated.

Mainly because Ophelia could run faster and farther than they could.

Even carry them farther!

That, however, changed when they did start growing.

And growing fast.

For the Cons, one day Ironhold was the same size as Ophelia, the next they had skyrocketed and now was about the same height as Megatron.

The Con’s are 99.99% sure that Ironhold came from Decepticon origin.

Ironhold: “Hey Lugnut watch this!”

Lugnut: “Ironhold what are you doing? Why are—BY LORD MEGATRON’S NAME!”

Blitzwing comes running with Ophelia dangling from his wing.

Both Con’s looked in slight disbelief at Ironhold proudly holding Lugnut above their helm with no sign of shaking.

Ophelia: “That’s amazing!”

Ironhold: “I know right!”

Blitzwing: “Ironhold put Lugnut down!”

Ironhold: “But I’m not even tired.”

Blitzwing: “Yes, but Lugnut looks like he is going to show you his energon he drank earlier.”

Lugnut: “I’m… fine…”

Ophelia didn’t care too much that her sibling grew over night.

She was still the older one of the two.

Ophelia was now often spotted perched on Ironhold’s shoulder or somewhere near Megatron.

Then came Silver Aid.

Ophelia was the first to greet the recruit with wide smiles.

The former Autobot was a bit put off by the sudden welcome but was happy at the same time.

Ironhold was a bit cautious around the new con, but seeing as Ophelia had taken such a quick liking to her, they decided to try and get to know the techno organic.

When the pair heard about what happened to Silver Aid, it was one of the rare times were Ironhold expressed rage outward to someone.

Ophelia offered all the help she could.

Soon Ophelia and Ironhold were given official positions.

Well, as ‘official’ as they could be with their numbers.

Ophelia ended up becoming Silver Aid’s assistant while Ironhold saw more field work.

Megatron wanted to keep them both in the base, but Ironhold quickly proved to be extremely useful on supply runs.

It was also around this time when the pair noticed Silver Aid and Megatron’s looks.

Megatron had certain looks that he gave to his fellow Cons.

The softer ones were always reserved for them.

But now he was giving a different kind of soft look at the new medical officer.

Ophelia perched on his shoulder.

They were both waiting for Ironhold to get out of the medbay after landing a sizable dent on their side.

Ophelia: “Silver Aid is nice.”

Megatron hums in agreement.

Ophelia: "She’s kind, compassionate, arguably the smart one…”

Megatron mumbles: “A pretty one.”

Ophelia looks at him: “A pretty what?”

Megatron has a slight moment of panic.

Megatron: “A pretty good medic. One of the best I have seen in a while.”

Ophelia: “Since when do you use the word ‘pretty’ like that?”

Megatron grumbles a bit.

Ophelia chuckles a bit patting his helm affectionately.

Ophelia: “… Just so you know, Ironhold and I are betting when you two get together.”

Megatron with wide and embarrassed optics: “Ophelia!”

Ophelia just laughs while hugging his helm.

Megatron grumbles a bit, while adjusting his daughter on his shoulder so she wouldn’t fall off.

Meanwhile…

Ironhold looks at Silver Aid.

Ironhold: “How long is it going to take for you to confess that you love Megatron?”

Silver Aid: “Ironhold!”

Ironhold: “I just want to know. I’m betting with Ophelia, and I want that can of wax.”

[whumpeinsamkeit]

Ironhold

Declan wakes up to the chill of the night biting against him. The shirt he’s wearing, ripped down the back and sticking to his skin with dried blood, does nothing to keep out the cold. He leans against the post again. Tries to relax. His fists clench above him, muscles weak and stiff from being chained over his head for so long. How long has he been sleeping?

He looks up at the periwinkle-blue sky, tries to decipher the position of the stars. Dawn can’t be too far away. The guards will remove his chains and let him go back to his hut to get ready for the day. His muscles are so tired though, he wonders if he’ll collapse in the middle of digging the ditches and be taken back to the post again. They’d beat him harder than this time. He’d been beaten for covering for another prisoner who had fallen, too exhausted to keep digging. If he was caught for losing his own strength, the consequences would be greater.

As he pulls himself up to drag his legs out of the kneeling position he’s been in since mid-afternoon the day before, a sharp pain spreads through his right leg. He whimpers as he twists his leg around. It’s not broken, but it’s definitely in bad shape. He’ll be lucky if he can walk on it when the guards let him go. Toby will have to help him to the hut.

When the sun finally rises past the roofs and long barbed wire-topped fence and the sky lightens to a dull orange-pink, Declan’s heart races with anticipation. They’ll release him soon. He’ll be able to stretch and...he suddenly becomes aware of how hungry he is. Maybe he can get something to eat on the way to the ditches. If he walks by Nuba’s, he knows his friend will toss him a day-old bagel or some other baked goods left over from the week. Nuba is good like that. It’s why he and Toby are such good friends. They take care of anyone who could use a little extra help.

Declan’s muscles spasm and he jolts forward, clenching his teeth to quiet a pained cry. He could use a little extra help. Actually, a lot of extra help. In the morning light, he can see the bruises that have blossomed across his legs, which are slightly swollen from the beating. Walking will be next to impossible, if not entirely impossible.

Toby arrives at the same time as the guards. He brushes his black hair out of his face and flashes that innocent, friendly smile at the pair of uniformed men like he doesn’t notice their dark frowns and the menacing whips secured to their belts. He hides his fear better than any of the other inmates at Ironhold. Declan doesn’t understand how he does it.

“Morning, gentlemen,” Toby greets. “If you’ll just remove his chains, I’ll take him off your hands and he’ll be ready to start work again in no time.”

Declan’s heart calms. In just a few minutes, he can go back to the hut. Toby will help him wash the blood and dirt from his wounds and bandage him up. He’ll find a new shirt and then they’ll get breakfast before heading to the ditches. He’ll try to ignore the other prisoners this time.

“Can’t do that.” The burlier of the two guards barks out the words, crushing Declan’s hopeful image. “The captain’s given orders to leave him as is. We’re just here to make sure no one interferes.”

Toby’s smile falters for a moment, quickly replaced but not quick enough to escape Declan’s notice. “Interferes?”

“He’ll stay chained to the post for the next 48 hours. No food, and his water will be rationed. He’ll be beaten as we see fit.”

Declan whimpers. Tears blur his vision. No, no. He didn’t do anything to deserve this. He was being kind. Selfless. His shoulders start to tremble and his head falls forward as the tears weave down his face. Within seconds, he feels Toby’s arms around him, his gentle voice shushing him, telling him it’s okay.

“I can’t,” he gasps between sobs. “I don’t-I can’t-”

“He’s learned his lesson,” Toby counters. The guards don’t waver.

“Captain’s orders. You can visit after your work is done for the day.”

Declan leans into Toby’s warm body, shivering as the pain wracks his body. His friend’s hands slide up to his face, thumbs brushing the tears from his face. “I’ll be back when we finish digging the ditches in section G, okay?”

“I can’t-”

“I’ll get a medic kit from Nuba on the way back. Get you cleaned up then. Okay?”

Fresh tears fall, and Declan sobs, “Toby-”

“Shh, everything will be just fine. When it’s over, I’ll take you home and you can sleep in your bed for a while. How’s that sound? Yeah?”

“Don’t go,” he murmurs.

Toby offers a soft smile. “I promise I’ll be back before you know it.”

His touch disappears and he’s gone, walking into the crowd of inmates going about their duties. Declan’s muscles spasm again and he moans. The chains dig into his wrists a little more with each involuntary movement.

“He’s going to skip his daily workload,” the burly guard says. “He shouldn’t get away with that, should he?”

The second guard kneels and grabs Declan’s chin between his thumb and fingers. He seems amused by the tear stains on Declan’s face, the way he can’t hide his desperate whimpering.

“You’re right.” He nods, staring into Declan’s pleading eyes. “He should be punished for missing two days of work. I think the captain would agree with us.”

“Please,” Declan forces the word past the lump in his throat. “Please, no.”

The guard wrenches Declan’s head up even further, exposing the cigarette burns that line his neck like a jagged necklace.

“Where should we start?” he asks. A mocking smile twists at his mouth. His eyes wander along Declan’s body, stopping at the bruises along his legs.

“Please.”

The guard stands. “I wonder how many times you have to beat someone before they can’t walk anymore.”

Declan whimpers as he watches the guard’s boot draw back. The boot collides with his leg, adding a mark that will become another bruise. Declan’s whimpering turns to screams.

No one comes to save him.

[loeyshandtattoo]

lady of moonreach | masterlist

map where the whole story takes place

plot summary: suffering from the consequences of an inevitable invasion of a usurper caused a decline among the great houses of iris, and the house greenwell was no exception to that as moonreach was destroyed by fire. namra greenwell, the proclaimed lady of moonreach pleads for the aid of the king-conqueror five years into his rule after reclaiming his rightful inheritance, despite being born in the walls of ironhold, his very own home, he was raised in safety in polymos after the invasion. the new king wishes to earn the love of his people, and finds no option, but to accept the plea of the lady of moonreach, despite loathing each other to the core.

1 - embers of a fallen legacy

2 - whispers in the shadows

3 - flames of departure

4 - the battle for moonreach

5 - pawn on the board

[ariesgamesandminis]

Another Iron Wind Metals restock is up for BattleTech!

10-036 Word of Blake Omni Mech Pack I 10-037 Word of Blake Omni Mech Pack II 20-327 Phantom Prime 20-409 Joust Medium Tank 20-5058 Gallant GLT-7-0 20-5122 Tenshi TN-10-O Prime 20-5193 Hierofalcon Prime / A 20-5201 Lightning LHN-C5 20-5202 Awesome AWS-8R / 8T 20-5211 Awesome AWS-8Q / 9Q 20-5214 Jade Phoenix Prime 20-619 Thor Self Propelled Heavy Artillery 20-620 Gunslinger GUN-1ERD 20-733 Oro Heavy Tank 20-800 Hex Bases 20-9133 Archangel Invictus / Dominus BT-004 Afreet Battle Armor BT-031 Infiltrator MK 2 BT-052 Confederate BT-132 Clan Medium Battle Armor BT-231 Ironhold Battle Armor BT-232 Warg Battle Armor BT-332 Phoenix Hawk LAM MK I PHX-HK1 (Air Mech) BT-369 Elemental Battle Armor BT-374 Roc Protomech BT-387 Gnome Battle Armor BT-388 Salamander Battle Armor BT-436 Buraq Battle Armor BT-439 Black Wolf Battle Armor BT-460 Saxon APC Standard / Laser / HQ 20-5136E Hound HD-2F Weapon Sprue 20-5182D Catapult CPLT-K2 Arm Sprue 20-609AMH Fenris (Omni) Arms w/ Hands 20-727B Karnov UR Transport Rotor / Blade 20-994E Marauder Gun / Foot Sprue

[trixtermagi]

King Breakers of Ironhold are boisterous and daring, living each day as if it’s their last. They strongly believe in community and will never allow an individual to rise in power at the expense of others. They can seem rude or obnoxious, but they mean no disrespect or harm to those who don’t understand their ways. They live in large fortresses and have designed specialized skiffs that sail across the desert sands as ships do over water.

Portal Nomads of Breakhame travel throughout the realms seeking new places and those who may be in need of the devices and magical machines they’ve invented. Thankful for the little things, they’re cheerful and considerate, for they have experienced great loss due to mistakes. They carry their belongings and tools with them, as they never know what new realm they may encounter. They use large, floating zeppelins as their homes and workshops.

Shadowmancers of Blackmantle are secretive masters of darkness and shadow, dwelling underground in volcanic cities and monasteries. Not much is known about them, other than they are the one clan who still has reservations of teaching the ways of the Magi to ‘outsiders’. Still, they grudgingly support the Great Compromise and honor their sacred vow to the other four clans, by deed if not by word.

Truth Seekers of Thunder Keep live along the shorelines of great islands and archipelagos where storms are common. They are enchanted by thunder, lightning, hurricanes and waterspouts. One island has been dedicated as an ever expanding repository of their knowledge; a fabled library known as Thunder Keep. They are dedicated to learning the truth of magic, science, nature, which in turn is recorded for future generations.

World Singers of Cloudcrest offer friendship to all around them. Living near rainforests, they prefer lush overgrown cliffs and rolling green hills to build their homes and farms and live near windmills and watermills, using the powers of nature to sustain themselves. They live peacefully with all kinds of animals, including normally dangerous predators of all types.