#it's nice to have people be respectfully curious and open minded rather than Assuming The Worst lol

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[jane-fucking-seymour]

Legend of the Six has now been updated!

Chapter 23: Daughter of Shadow

Words: 5032 

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When we are little, we are taught that the darkness is scary.

Children hide from it under the comforts of pillows and blankets, men shield themselves from it with torches and lanterns, and the general public escape it through dreams and sleep. From the day we are born to the day we die, we are told to fear the Dark, and the creatures that live amongst it. It’s personified as the unknown, as the wicked, as the evil. The Dark, many claim, cannot be trusted, nor can it be utilized without misfortune.

The many, to Anne Boleyn, are considered fools.

Ever since she was a little girl - even with the scary stories of the Darkness being evil and Light being good - Anne Boleyn constantly sought for a second opinion. It’s not that she didn’t trust the stories; far from it, as she had seen what the dark could do. But she’s also seen it do wonders: it hides her from an ambush when she’s younger, it reveals foolish enemies positions that don’t know how to control their shadows, and it is a comfort, still, when late at night. After all, Anne argues, the darkness is the reason why we are in awe of the stars. That’s got to count for something, right?

As she continued down this path of Darkness, she came to befriend it in a unique way. Shadows would race to her to say hello, like old friends. The Darkness often wrapped around her like a cloak, a better shield than the ones the finest blacksmiths of the Realm could make. She extended a hand to the dark and found that it not only accepted, but embraced her as their own. And she was happier for it.

Of course, her friendship didn’t go unnoticed; it’s what started the rumors in court to begin with. Many in the court would talk ill of her friends, of the comforts she held that were so unique and against the grain that people thought it scary. She was shunned by many in the courts - all afraid of this girl that could control the darkness, calling her a Servant to it, a thrall. To many, Anne was cursed, and her regency should never had seen the light of day.

Unluckily for them (and, eventually, for her), Henry wasn’t afraid of the dark either.

Anne came to understand this as she was on the run from a particularly unyielding suitor. She hid in the shadows, in the garden, waiting for the man to pass. He hadn’t seen her, and in his drunken stupor, had started calling for her quite loudly. This resulted in unwanted attention. Anne had chuckled as the man was immediately yelled at by the King himself, thoroughly embarrassed and berated in the middle of the night by such an important figure in the Realm. She expected the guy to turn tail and run, which he did.

What she DIDNT expect was for the King himself to suddenly turn and face her. Her, hidden by the darkness that she knew so well.

He looked curious, as if struggling to see her, but seeing her all the same. He called for her to appear, to not be afraid. He wasn’t afraid of the dark either, he said. He knew she wasn’t either. Perhaps they could make a habit of finding each other in the shadows in the night, perhaps they could chat about their experiences with the Dark, perhaps they could be friends.

It didn’t take too long for Anne to realize he meant something a little more than just friends.

The marriage between Catherine of Aragon and Henry VIII was going rather swimmingly, at least according to anyone that looked: Catherine had just saved the world from evildoers in the South, and Henry had applauded his wife’s work. The Realm rejoiced in such a decisive victory over the enemy that day, and had even strengthened their allyship with Holbein in the process; a two for one victory that the history books were to celebrate for centuries, if all had gone to plan.

But, as Anne would later find out in their midnight rendezvous, he thought he could do more. His wife was, of course, a formidable person in battle, but the Darkness isn’t that scary. It got a bad reputation because of the Blessed that defeated the enemies in the South, he said. Why couldn’t his wife see that the darkness wasn’t something to banish, but to wield? 

To Anne, this made perfect sense because of the darkness that she knew, the darkness she assumed they were talking about. It resulted in resentment towards the (at the time, current) queen, especially when Henry finally gave her the chance to be the Blessed Aragon’s lady in waiting not too long afterwards. Anne didn’t see then that it was a way to groom her for the throne; instead, she simply thought he wanted someone in his corner, someone that understood the Dark for what it really was.

And she played right into his hands perfectly.

At least, for a while.

It was later, when Catherine was “killed,” when she saw Jane Seymour enter the picture, that Anne realized that maybe he wasn’t a friend of the dark like she thought he was.

For one, he never was able to hide well, not from anyone. The darkness that was easy to sink into when she was alone or with Maggie or even with Catherine and Maria was not as such when he was around; it was like the Darkness rebuked him, didn’t want him near it. Didn’t claim him as their own the way that they had claimed Anne all those years ago. In her want to be queen and in her want to have someone that understood her, she ignored it; there was just something about Henry that made her want to ignore what she thought she knew. He had that way about him, a way that made her want to believe in what he said.

So when he told her to go on the road that fateful day, she had no idea what was coming.

Maria hadn’t been acting any different than usual, for example, and it was in the middle of the day when it happened. Anne was completely unsuspecting until just before the ambush occurred; at that point, her shadow gave her away. For a while, it was the shadows that was her most trusted ally as she hid, refusing to be found until she absolutely had to. 

She survived because of the Shadows. They had given her so much. But now, it seems, they were asking something of her.

Who was she to refuse?

So she sits, in front of the woman, head bowed respectfully. The woman smiles softly at the girl in front of her, as if greeting an old friend. Anne suspects she knows more about Anne than she lets on, but it’s disrespectful to ask.

“I see that you’re ready now,” she says. “To become my champion.” She nods, standing up. “It’ll be a tough road ahead of you, if you choose to embrace my gifts.”

“You have given me so much, my lady,” Anne says quietly, respectfully. “I am but an agent of your will.”

The woman looks over at Maggie, who is still bowing with her head down. She gently lifts the girl’s head up with a soft grin.

“You won’t be needed here,” the woman says, “but I won’t deny you the opportunity to observe the trial. No, you’ve done just as much as her, and I like you almost as much, but she is the Champion for a reason.”

Maggie doesnt dare look the woman in the eye, instead nodding respectfully. “I am in awe of your graciousness, my lady,” she says, a bit of a tremble in her voice. She’s a bit nervous. 

The woman smiles and offers Maggie her hand. Maggie takes it. “You may look me in the eye, you know,” the woman says. “We’re all friends here.”

Maggie does so after a moment, and she’s a bit calmer now. This doesn’t feel as formal as she thought it was going to be, but then again, the Shadows have always been somewhat misleading. 

The woman turns back to Anne, who hasn’t moved from her spot. “My Champion,” she says, sitting down in front of Anne. “You will start your Trial immediately. Should you pass, you shall become my Keeper. Should you fail… well, the outcome depends on how you do that.” She shrugs, a hand wistfully circling in the air, forming some sort of bowl with smoking black substance in it. “Drink. And you shall begin.”

Anne nods, looking back at Maggie with a smile. “I’ll be back.”

Maggie nods, still a bit nervous. “I know you will.”

And with that, Anne takes the bowl and drinks it down.

It doesn’t taste like a lot of anything, but the texture of it is vile to say the least; it feels like something is fighting to go down into her stomach, as if it had a mind of its own. She winces at the feeling, squeezing her eyes shut as the bowl, too, dissolves into the substance and enters her.

She steadies herself, feeling how the substance affects her. Her hands, now empty, fall to her sides, and she focuses. She can feel everything else falling away, can feel herself sinking deeper and deeper and deeper…

… until she’s nowhere at all.

She’s floating in nothing.

It’s dark, and it’s comfortable. She opens her eyes and sees nothing. She floats aimlessly, like in a calm river of sorts, and smiles softly; this was nice. Not really what she expected, if she was being honest, but she’ll take what she can get.

Just as she thinks that, however, she immediately feels herself drop. Now, she’s freefalling into nothing. It’s nothing too terrible, but there seems to be something… darker… just below her now. She yelps, tenses, gets ready for the impact-

-but it never comes. Instead, she’s standing still, on the darker darkness.

She looks around, curious about what’s  happening.

“Hello?” she asks. She doesn’t hear anything - no echo, no voice returning her call. It’s getting a bit cold, too, as she walks further and further into this new darkness. The shadows from before, when she was floating, were what she was comfortable with. This… was not.

Not bad, just different, and incredibly unsettling when she wasn’t used to it. 

She continues through, unseeing, and she wonders if she’s missed something, if she’s already lost the trial. There’s no real purpose to this at the moment, she realizes, and she thinks maybe she needs to do something. Maybe she’s waiting on herself.

With a deep breath, she stops walking, extending a hand above her. She closes her eyes, takes another big breath, and summons the darkness she knows so well.

Usually, it would result in the room getting darker… but that’s not the case. Not now. Her darkness is brighter than this darkness, and the comfort she’s felt for over two decades returns to her. And now, with a smile, she listens to her goddess:

“Your trial begins now, oh contested Champion. I hope you are prepared.”

Anne nods, feeling herself being tugged away and pulled impossibly fast to an impossibly far distance in the shadows - lightyears away from where she was, but also right next door. She eventually stops where she is, and her eyes adjust to the light in front of her.

She’s got solid ground below her. She’s in a hallway. It’s dark and cold and wet. It’s clear that the only light in this area has been the blue torches that dimly illuminate the area. She’s not sure where she is, but she knows she needs to continue. 

She moves forward steadily, but as she does, she starts to hear things - a voice?

“Hello?”

Not her goddess’, either.

Her hand goes to her side, where her trusted daggers would be, but they are not there now. She instead moves to the side, using her shadows to protect and cloak herself as she pushes forward. She hears the voice again, this time coming from the end of the hallway.

Someone’s here. Someone that’s definitely real.

She turns into the room, warily at first, but then she realizes who it is and raises and eyebrow.

“Catherine?!?”

Catherine is indeed there, looking around, very confused. When she spots Anne, though, she instantly rushes over to her.

“What’s going on?” Catherine asks, frowning. “I was just headed into the town we were headed into before you left and… and now I’m here.”

“You were Claimed for a time,” says a voice, one that isn’t either of theirs. “You have been Unclaimed. But now you’re Claimed again.”

Catherine seems to recognize the voice, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “In what way?”

“The Light knows what is happening,” says the voice, reassuring in tone. “And they know why you’re here. They know I won’t keep you any longer than necessary, and they know you won’t be harmed.”

Catherine seems to relax a bit then, but she’s still a bit confused. “I don’t know why I’m here, though.”

“You’re… well, I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” Anne mumbles, a bit embarrassed. “But you’re my guide.”

Catherine blinks. “Your what?”

“In the Trials of the Shadows,” Anne explains, “we get a person that can’t be seen by the Trial, but the Chosen can see and interact with them. Someone that we have a strong connection with. Someone that’s important in our life story. Someone that the Woman chooses.”

“And… she chose me?” Catherine asks, tilting her head.

“We both did, it’s kind of a mutual agreement decision sort of thing,” Anne replies. “Well, most of the time. It’s my soul choosing who it is, and the Woman consenting to manifest it- it’s a long story. Not enough time, if we want to get out of here before the Festival in a few weeks.” Anne sighs, a hand running through her hair. “What you need to know is that I need someone to guide me, to help me through the tough road ahead.” She doesn’t dare look Catherine in the eye for the next part. “It seems that both myself and my mistress are in agreement that if anyone can get me through this, it’s you.”

Catherine smiles. “Well, seeing as I’ve nothing better to do-”

But the jokes stop, suddenly, as the room around them changes.

They’re suddenly in a chamber, one that’s familiar and not at the same time. It’s clearly night, but the moon is not the moon; it’s moreso a ball of energy, as if it was made of arcanic magick rather than a celestial body.

Anne moves into the room a bit more, observing quietly.

“Isn’t this the castle?” Catherine asks quietly, looking out the nearby window. It’s a town made of shadows, but a familiar town nonetheless. “This is Henry’s castle in the Capitol… but I don’t know this room.”

Anne frowns. “Me either, at least, not yet,” she looks around and tilts her head, looking down at the nearby desk. She looks at the papers, picking some up and looking through them, just in time for Catherine to meet her there.

“Anything?” Catherine asks, tilting her head.

“Just notes about certain military movements and plans,” Anne says, continuing to look through. “These look to be from my time as queen, or at least near that time-”

They both look up, however, when they hear someone unlocking the door.

“They can’t see me, but-” Catherine starts, though Anne is already ahead of her. She instantly moves to the shadows, hiding herself. Catherine simply watches as the door opens. She cringes a bit - the person is covered with shadow, their true form unable to be seen. 

They walk towards the desk, looking through papers before eventually picking up a blank one and writing on it. They continue to write, and Anne gets a better look at the paper. She narrows her eyes and, while avoiding detection, moves towards the back of the room, farthest from the door. 

Just as she does, another person enters the room - this time, Catherine gasps.

“Maria!”

Maria can’t hear her, of course, and the scene continues without interruption. 

Maria stands in front of the shadowed figure, bowing slightly.

Both Anne and Catherine wince when the shadowed figure starts talking - their voice is cloaked in a thousand others, distorted and underwater and barely even hearable yet blaring all at once. 

Maria, however, doesn’t seem to have an issue hearing them, resulting in a one-way conversation that Catherine and Anne can hear.

“Of course, I understand,” Maria says with a nod. She looks down at the paper that is handed to her, studying it carefully. Maria sets her jaw a bit before she nods slowly. There’s a moment before she tenses, looking up at the shadowy figure, clearly angry.

“I have not forgotten the promise I made,” Maria growls. “Not to her. Catherine shall not have died in vain.”

The confliction on Maria’s face makes Catherine’s heart break. 

Maria nods, salutes, and leaves the room. As soon as the door closes, the shadowy figure suddenly snaps their attention straight to Anne.

Anne’s gasp is only for a moment, as the figure rushes her, and suddenly she’s consumed by it.

“Anne!” Catherine yells, but the world is turning again, and despite her concern, another scene is playing out.

Anne, barely on her feet, moves to hide again, but… something’s changed. Something’s starting. Anne is more tense as the next scene happens, this time with the shadowy figure and a eerie green light.

Another person arrives - a magick practitioner in the castle, Catherine assumes - and speaks:

“Once we have someone to accept the terms, necromancy will be firmly in our war arsenal,” he says, looking down at a paper. “We’ve managed to connect the dots on this fairly quickly, thanks to the research at the Heart. And because of that, we may be able to control corrupted Light and Shadows easily enough in a few years.”

“They what-?” Catherine asks, but suddenly Anne is once again attacked by a shadow, once again forced to absorb it. “Anne!” Catherine yells, moving over to the girl as she falls to her knees.

Anne is gasping for air, but is clearly furious. “I can feel it,” she growls out. “The frustration, the anger, the power… it’s all here.” She holds up her hand. “This is how it would feel. To go unchecked. To be consumed… by the rage… of the past…”

Catherine frowns. “But that’s not what the Darkness is, is it? It’s not rage, it’s not power. It’s something else, isn’t it?” It’s something Catherine doesn’t totally understand, but she gets this much; it’s very similar to her own understanding of the Light.

Anne growls out, looking down at her hands as they burn with darkness. She feels it crawling around her skin, no longer the comfortable calm that she’s used to, but with newfound purpose. Anger. Betrayal. All of it. It’s feeding into her emotions, into her magicks.

Catherine sees the trial for what it really is, just in time for the scene to change again.

They’re in a room, and now Maria is back. Catherine ignores her feelings for the time being as she hears the conversation.

“It’s done,” Maria says bitterly. “She’s dead.”

The shadowed figure turns around, says things they don’t understand, and Maria nods.

“I’ll be sure to keep this in mind,” she says quietly. “For the Realm.”

Again, the shadow figure snaps her attention to Anne… but this time, Catherine steps in, quickly shielding Anne from the figure.

Catherine yelps as she absorbs it instead… but now, her Light seems to overpower it.

For now.

“Anne,” Catherine says, a bit winded by the event. Anne, for her part, is glaring at Maria, but Catherine breaks the line of sight. “Anne. Remember. This is a trial. What are all of these things doing to you?”

“They’re…” Anne growls a bit. “They’re making me angry. Angrier than I’ve ever felt.”

“Okay, and why would they want to do that? What is happening with the Darkness you’re feeling?”

Anne focuses on it, only for a moment, before her thoughts immediately go to the Maria in front of her. She’s right there, for the taking, easily killed at this angle…

“Anne, answer me.”

She looks back at Catherine. “It’s not actually Darkness,” Anne growls out. “It’s not comforting. This energy, it enhances your darkest thoughts. Your fears. Your anger-”

Anne tries to pulse towards Maria, but Catherine quickly stops it.

“Anne, focus.” Catherine says. “You can’t let this overtake you. Focus on me: why are they showing you these things? What’s the goal?”

“To make me angry,” Anne growls, struggling in Catherine’s grasp. Maria’s so close, she could almost touch her.

“Is that all?” Catherine asks, raising an eyebrow. She’s struggling to keep Anne at bay, but she’ll do it for as long as it takes to help her.

“What the fuck do you mean, is that all, it’s-!” she starts, but then her eyes go wide. “Oh. Oh, shit, oh-”

“What?” Catherine asks, clearly confused, but then the shadowed figure appears again. Anne immediately turns her attention to it, quick to suddenly pull Catherine behind her with some unseen shadows, and instantly moves to grab the shadowed figure.

Anne narrows her eyes as the shadowed figure whips their head around to face Anne, but Anne shakes her head.

“Not this time,” she says, smirking. “It was a distraction. You were always good at those. And you’re here, because you’re my weakness. You’re the reason I can’t move on, you’re the reason I can’t grow. You, and what you stand for to me.”

She grabs a torch nearby, and this time throws it at the shadowed figure.

The shadows retreated from the form, and the true terror appeared. 

Her hair as blonde as before, blue piercing eyes now tinted with green energy as the new staff she wielded resulted in a pulsing energy that made Anne want to run. She looks on with wide eyes as the woman, over and over again, summons monstrosities, clearly attempting to overrun Anne right then and there.

Anne practically growls.

“Jane fucking Seymour.”

The figure in question certainly looked like the Keeper of Necromancy, but with one distinct difference - her eyes were not normal, but instead pulsing with darkness, with eerie energy that Anne had to look away from at the moment. She shivers at the coldness that’s so apparent she can feel it, but then a warm hand holds on her shoulder and she looks up at Catherine.

“This is the trial, then.” Catherine says, so matter-of-factly that it helps calm Anne somewhat. Anne looks up, managing to overcome her own fear of the corruption before her, and nods. Catherine nods back. “Go on, then.”

Anne moves away, towards the corruption, taking a deep breath as she does so. She suddenly pulses forward, moving past the shadowy monstrosities and immediately to Jane, but the girl dodges so fast that Anne can’t react to the counterattack. Suddenly, Anne has a knife through her stomach, though it quickly dissolves into shadows as she’s released. She falls to the floor, huffing in pain, as she practically growls at Jane, who backs up and readies herself for another onslaught.

“Direct attacks won’t work,” Catherine says.

“You think I don’t know that?” Anne asks, right as she pulses forward again. This time, instead of straight on attack Jane, she uses the shadows to dissolve into cover…

… or at least, she thought she did, right before Jane plucks her out of the darkness and once again stabs her with a dagger that fades into shadows.

Anne yelps again, and this time, she falls to her knees. She holds her abdomen, coughing up blood, before she looks down at the wound. It’s festering with corrupted darkness.

And that gives her an idea.

“What else do you have?” Catherine asks, at the woman’s side as Anne shakily stands up. Anne seems to be focused, so Catherine steps aside. “I hope you know what you’re doing. I don’t think you can take another one of those stabs.”

“Don’t worry,” Anne says. “I won’t need another chance.”

She pulses forward, straight on. Catherine’s heart drops; did Anne suddenly forget this was what she did at first?

Jane readies her dagger, and just as she thrusts it into Anne… it suddenly stops. It all stops. All the monsters, all the magicks Jane conjured. They all just… stop.

Catherine looks over to find that Anne’s eyes are not her own - they’re filled with darkness. At first, Catherine thought the girl had lost, that she was corrupted like Jane’s magicks, but when Anne suddenly thrust her hand into the sky and Jane immediately did the same thing, Catherine realized what was happening.

Of course, Catherine thought, feeling a little stupid for not realizing it before. She can control shadows!

Indeed, Anne was now controlling Jane’s movements, Jane’s actions, all of it. The darkness around them was no long being passive in the fight; Anne was forcing it to move with her, at her command, and Jane was powerless to stop it.

This, Catherine realized, was the true power of a Keeper of the Shadows. This was the potential of the Queen of Shadows.

Anne immediately pulses backwards, but Jane still can’t move. Anne lifts her hands - Jane doesn't follow this time, Anne’s holding her in place - and Anne suddenly has chains connected to Jane’s wrists. The end of the chains are in Anne’s hands, and she smirks as she suddenly slams them into the ground, making Jane fall as well. Keeping the chains in one hand, Anne uses her other one to command the shadows to clear out the monsters around them, wiping them into oblivion, before focusing back on the Jane in front of her.

With a final wince, Anne takes the energy that she could feel around the wound and harnesses it herself. Instead of it infecting her body, she now controlled it as she formed it into a spear and threw it back at Jane, cracking her heart and thrusting them all into pale moonlight that blinded the area for a second.

The corrupted dark gives way to pale moonlight, and that Jane is on her knees. She looks up and her eyes are her own. 

Anne’s blade pulses with the warm type of darkness that Anne is familiar with.

Anne looks down at the girl, and Jane looks up. She’s crying, eyes wide at the blade. She doesn’t say anything, however, as she bows her head.

“What is this?” Anne asks, but she keeps her gaze on Jane.

Catherine looks around. “Looks like the forests near the castle in the Capitol, honestly,” Catherine says. “I recognize this clearing. The bridge to the courtyard is only a few yards away.”

“And why is she giving herself over to me?” Anne asks, her hand tightening on her blade as her body stiffens.

Silence. Then, Catherine:

“I think you’ve a choice to make, Keeper of the Shadows.”

Anne continues her focus on the neck. She continues to remember. She continues to feel.

And she raises the blade and thrusts it down, hitting her mark. 

Instead of a scream, or a head rolling, the figure immediately bursts into darkness, fading into the darkness around it. There’s suddenly a stronger darkness - a Void of sorts - and Catherine and Anne are pulled into it. The darkness is suffocating for Catherine, whose light suddenly is snuffed out, but Anne seems to revel in it, like it’s a cool refreshing drink. 

When she opens her eyes again, however, she finds the Woman and Maggie standing over her.

Maggie smiles, but she’s clearly scared. “Annie?”

Anne takes a deep breath, then smiles. “I’m ok. We’re all ok.” She looks up at the Woman. “Was that satisfactory, my lady?”

“Just about what I expected,” the Woman replies. “But I think you’re ready regardless.”

Anne stands and, just as she goes to bow again, the Woman puts her hand on Anne’s heart and mind. Suddenly, Anne can feel a cool yet warm sensation coming from the hands that pressed against her, and her eyes faded into darkness for a moment before they returned to normal. She takes a deep breath and, suddenly, she feels more alive than ever.

When the Woman steps back, Anne instinctually puts a hand on her heart and head, just before she summons a shadow dagger in her hands.

“Oh, that’s cool,” Anne says. She then takes a deep breath and focuses on the energy; it forms into a darkened fireball of sorts, then a gauntlet, then an arrow. She smirks as she then puts the energy into her other hand, back into the dagger, and takes a step back into the shadows. She completely disappears then; not even Maggie could sense her.

She ends up behind the Woman, who doesn’t seem surprised to see her, but smiles. “I trust your new arsenal is to your satisfaction, my champion and my Keeper of Shadows?”

Anne’s eyes go wide at the title and she smiles widely, but she immediately shows respect, bowing deeply. “Thank you, Mistress.”

The Woman nods. “Pray you continue to do my will, though you are not bound to it. That’s not how I operate, unlike some others.”

That got Anne thinking. “Where did Catherine go?”

“The Blessed? She’s back in her body. She had some issues with a Fae, but I saved her.” The Woman smiles. “She helped my Champion in her trial, I saved her from being stolen away by the Fae. I consider us even - well, myself and her Goddess.”

Anne nods. “I’ll be sure to tell them to be careful moving forward. Thank you, my Mistress.” She looks back over at Maggie, who nods. “We need to go. The place where they are, it’s a Fae Lands. They’re going to need all the help they can get.”

Maggie nods. “After you.”

They rush off.

[akirakurusuimagines]

Christmas Gifts (Akira & Lavenza)

Blowing hot air into his hands, Akira hastily made his way through the crowded streets of Shibuya, bumping shoulders with couples at every turn and softly muttering a word of apology and bowing his head respectfully as he squeezed through in an attempt to get to the alley he knew like the back of his hand⁠— towards the Velvet Room.

It was strange to him, to be in such a crowded place on Christmas⁠— though it made sense, considering his more humble countryside origins… and truthfully, he did enjoy seeing the abundance of festive decorations and large amounts of people spreading joy through simple manners, whether with greetings or with gifts; it warmed his heart. Perhaps because it gave him a reason to spoil his dearest friends with gifts he would never have found in his hometown.

He had already made his rounds⁠⁠— a backpack, once full of gifts was now empty, save for a single, small, light, and neatly wrapped package at the bottom. It was so light, Akira had to pause at times and check the bag to make sure it wasn’t gone somehow⁠. Can never be too careful. Sighing softly as he checked one last time before making a fool of himself, Akira walked closer to the young girl standing alone, smiling as he watched her lift her head from her grimoire to greet him enthusiastically.

“Shall I guide you to my master?” She asked, looking up at her savior with warmth. It was only natural she would assume he’d come to enter the Velvet Room and see her master Igor, considering her status as an attendant.

Akira laughed softly and shook his head. “Nah, that won’t be necessary,” he commented, keeping his gaze trained on her. “Thank you, Lavenza.”

“Oh...? Then may I ask why you’ve come? It’s Christmas, if I remember correctly… you should be spending it with those you have made strong bonds with.” Lavenza’s expression appeared puzzled. Akira figured that was a natural reaction⁠— anyone would assume he’d spend it with his friends, especially after what had happened the day before: the Phantom Thieves defeating a false god and stealing humanity’s treasure… it all feels like a dream, or a very distant memory.

“I came to see you.”

His answer was short and blunt, and yet somehow Lavenza still took several moments to process his words, her golden eyes wide in surprise as it slowly sunk in. Akira was aware of the feelings Lavenza held for him, that much was certain, considering how she had just as bluntly professed her love for him. She was also certain of the feelings he held for her, considering her both a younger sibling and a savior of sorts⁠— guiding his path when he was the most lost. “Ah…” Lavenza couldn’t help the warmth that rose to her cheeks as she held onto the grimoire a little tighter, shifting her weight. “My trickster, you are too kind…”

“Hold on a moment before you start calling me kind. I haven’t even given you your gift yet.” Akira pulled the bag off of his shoulders and opened the zipper, reaching his hand in and fishing for the gift as Lavenza continued to be surprised. “Here,” he said as he held out the gift for her to take. “Merry Christmas.”

Lavenza stared at Akira for a good few moments, her eyes shifting between the small gift in his hands and the kind expression of a boy who truly cares for her. She put her grimoire underneath her arm and took the gift with mild hesitation, holding her breath and wondering if this was truly happening. She had given things to him before without issue⁠— as Caroline and Justine, and as her true self. However, the thought of receiving something from her dear trickster had never occurred to her before then. She didn’t say a word, only slowly opening the gift, wrapped in a fitting blue and gold, only to reveal a black box. Lavenza cast her gaze upwards to be met with an encouraging nod.

“Open it.”

Lavenza pressed her lips together and pulled it apart, gasping when she saw the contents inside. She looked up with shock⁠, overwhelmed, unsure of what to say or how she could even accept such a gift. “My trickster, you truly… you did not have to…” She was at a loss for words, and looked down again at the item in the palm of her hand⁠— a new bookmark. When Akira had won the fight against her split forms, they had given him Justine’s bookmark as a reward. And now⁠—

“I thought you might need a new one.” Akira rubbed the back of his neck, pleased with her reaction. “Do you like it?”

It was a fairly simple bookmark, matching her colorscheme once more with the metallic blue and gold trimming, reflecting her grimoire’s design, though several things stood out to her the most⁠— the small gold insignia of the phantom thieves inscribed onto the bottom right corner of the bookmark, and the charm attached to it, of a small blue butterfly, not too dissimilar to what she had used when talking to Akira during her incomplete state during his time of crisis. “I… I love it. Thank you, my trickster. You truly are… the world’s greatest man.” Lavenza finally breathed out, her heart racing and chest warm.

Akira stepped closer and lifted the small black foam cushion the bookmark a mischievous smile dancing on his face. “There’s more,” He mumbled, lifting the backing enough to reveal a crisply folded piece of paper. “It’ll… be a little embarrassing for you to read it now, so save it for later. There’s something else attached to it too. But⁠— like I said, read it later.”

“I⁠— I see. Thank you.” Lavenza exclaimed, her curiosity beginning to overwhelm her a little, though she took the paper from the box and with the bookmark, slid it both into her grimoire for later. “I suppose that’s all, correct?” She asked, a slightly sad edge to her voice slipping out that she did not quite mean⁠— she was extremely happy with the gifts she was given, though she still wished to spend more time with him. So she covered up her feelings with a smile and clutched the grimoire close to her chest once more. “Merry Christmas, my dear trickster. I hope you enjoy your night.”

“Wait⁠—” Akira shook his head, appearing displeased at her sudden shift in mood. “I was actually going to ask if you’d like to come to Leblanc for a little while. I’d like to make you some coffee.” He paused for a second, looking at her with furrowed eyebrows, wondering if she even liked the bitter beverage. “Or hot chocolate. It is chilly tonight.”

Lavenza carried her grimoire in one arm and began to giggle, hiding her mouth behind her hand. “You truly are full of surprises, trickster. I… I would love to accompany you at your residence for a little while.” She smiled brightly, truly believing that nothing could be better than this.

Akira held out his hand for Lavenza to take, and she did. It felt nice⁠— holding the very same hand that saved humanity… saved her. “You’ve never celebrated Christmas before, have you?” Akira asked, genuinely curious. He’s heard brief mentions of her family, though knew nothing beyond that.

“Ah… yes, you are correct. My older siblings and I have not participated in human traditions like that. At least to my knowledge. However… this is very nice. Perhaps I could convince my master to spare some thought into doing something like this for the holidays.” Lavenza smiled as she walked, looking down at her feet while Akira guided her through the streets, weaving between the crowds once more, heading towards the train station.

Akira nodded, deciding to use the time to get to know her a little more, considering Caroline and Justine were difficult to approach, even more so to get them to open up. “That’s interesting… how many siblings do you have, actually?”

“Three elder siblings.”

“Three? Wow, that’s amazing. I’m an only child, so I couldn’t imagine how it must feel to be the youngest of four.”

“It was… quite the experience. One of my sisters and I can get… competitive at times. She also treats my elder brother rather harshly, though he is quite the pushover. My eldest sister is quite the woman, though she also can get to be a bit mischievous at times, and her anger can be… unbridled.”

“Your family sounds lively. I’d love to meet them one day.”

“Ah… forgive me, but unless it is by a stroke of mysterious luck, it is unlikely you will… we are bound to our guests.”

“That’s a shame.”

Akira kept Lavenza close, making sure she didn’t get lost as they made their way towards Leblanc, hand in hand. He fished out the key to the door from his pocket and slid it inside, twisting the key and unlocking the door, seeing as how Sojiro was spending his night with Futaba back at his home.

“Your place of residence is quite humble, trickster… though very comforting nonetheless.” Lavenza commented as she walked inside, clearly amazed by the size and decor. “Would you mind if I took a seat?”

Akira chuckled, amused by Lavenza’s manners. “Be my guest.” He himself walked around the counter, where Lavenza propped herself up, setting her grimoire in front of her. He slipped on the apron over his head, careful to watch his glasses as he did so, and as he began to tie the strings behind his back, he looked to Lavenza and asked her, “What would you like? Coffee, or hot chocolate?”

She thought for a moment, but eventually went with the latter, figuring she would prefer the sweeter drink. Lavenza couldn’t thank him more for his kindness with her, and she watched him set off to work on her warm beverage with an intrigued gaze, amazed at the vast variety of skills her trickster possessed. She watched him work with wonder for several minutes, before remembering the folded paper that stuck out of her grimoire that she was instructed to save for later.

Lavenza gently took it out, holding it in her hand as she looked up to make sure he wasn’t watching⁠— if he wasn’t watching her read it, it should be fine, right? Her curiosity was getting the better of her, and it was more and more difficult to resist the temptation to open and read its contents. Eventually, she caved, unfolding the papers and holding it out in her hands, her eyes immediately gluing itself into the first words he had written.

Dear Lavenza,

I’ll be honest… I never expected any of this to happen when I first arrived in Tokyo. How could I? Personas, becoming a thief, rehabilitation, ruin, all of it. I may not have known your true form for long, but you’ve been there for me every step of the way: from whenever I was lost and unsure of what to do next to whenever I needed assistance with my personas, fusing them and strengthening them. You, as the blue butterfly, as Justine and Caroline, and then… as yourself. You’ve helped me in so many ways, that I really don’t know how to express my gratitude to you for all of it. Thank you, Lavenza. For your strength, and for giving it to us.

I realize our time together is probably coming to a close sometime soon. We’ve destroyed Mementos, and taken care of the false god, so there isn’t any need for me to be contracted to the Velvet Room anymore, right? I’d like to take advantage of being a guest of yours and Igor’s for a little while longer, since I am going back to my hometown in March. I… do not want to forget you. And I don’t want you to forget me either⁠— so I’m going to treasure the bookmark you gave me, and I hope you’ll do the same.

Merry Christmas,

Joker

Lavenza was completely entranced by the letter that she hadn’t even noticed Akira was looking at her until he had set the cup of hot chocolate down next to her. He wasn’t upset she was reading the letter⁠— though did look a little embarrassed. It was always strange seeing someone read something of yours, like that. “Ah⁠—!” Lavenza hastily set the paper down, cheeks red. She grabbed the mug and brought it close, using it to cover the flustered expression she bore from having been caught, as well as from the words that replayed over and over in her head. “It’s very hot…” Lavenza muttered, having regretted trying to take a sip of her beverage, though when she lifted her eyes, she saw Akira was no longer looking at her⁠— and instead was cleaning up.

She took her chances and looked back at the letter, reading it once more, as if the letters would fade in a minute. She swung her legs and lifted the cup up to her lips again, this time managing to take a sip of it, and relishing in the delicious taste. “Thank you… this is incredible.”

“You’re welcome,” Akira replied, not sparing her a look as he washed the dishes. “Make sure you take the last gift from the letter.”

Lavenza’s eyebrows furrowed, but she turned the page over, finally spotting the small charm attached to the letter with tape. “Oh… this is…” She peeled it open and cupped it in her hand, amazed by the small charm. Lavenza curiously began to mess with it, only to have the charm split into two halves. “Ah⁠—!” She exclaimed, fearing she may have broken it, though she quickly realized that it was intentional. “Could this be for… Caroline and Justine?”

“Yeah. I figured they should get something, too.” Akira wiped his hands on a spare towel and walked around the bar, standing close to Lavenza. “I hope they like⁠—”

He cut himself off, as Lavenza lunged forward and wrapped her small arms around his torso as she disregarded the feelings inside her head that warned her not to do such a thing. Akira shook his head with a chuckle as the surprise quickly wore away, and gently petted the girl’s head, genuinely elated she seemed to think so highly of him and his gifts. “I’m glad.” As she began to pull away, Akira stopped her, knowing she was doing so out of courtesy. “We can stay like that a little longer.” He spoke in a gentle tone that melted her heart, and she sunk back into his warm embrace. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, my dear trickster… thank you.”

[giranswife]

Ink and Memories

Summary: Ash and Giran finally make the decision to get matching tattoos. One just for the hell of it, but also as a bit of a special moment given that their anniversary is just around the corner.

Warning(s): self-insert x canon, fluff

Disclaimer: Ash is my self-insert/oc shipped with a canon character. This also includes mentions of an oc of mine.

(( So I had this idea for a while and I had to write it! It’s just so sweet, and it’s the first fic with my OC Slade! I’ll have more info about him up soon! I actually really like how he’s become a lot more than just Ash’s tattoos guy lol if you want more info on him feel free to ask! ))

For months we had been talking about possibly doing this as a kind of special occasion, seeing as the big anniversary was coming up. Not to mention I’d been bringing up the idea for a while, but I really didn’t ever expect for him to agree to it. I was rather excited, knowing that having a part of him on my skin forever was actually… kind of comforting. I already had a couple of tattoos, but a majority of them were small and barely had any sentimental value.

A lot of them were just things that I thought looked cool, and I still don’t regret them. I got them at a time in my life where I wasn’t sure where I was heading. I didn’t really have much at that time, and now I have almost everything. Friends and a husband who I can’t imagine my life without. This was going to be a perfect one to show just how far I’ve grown, and remind me that I can get through it.

Sayeko and I have already gotten matching ones together, now it was just time for me and Giran. We had a general idea of what we were going to have, but neither of us really shared too much detail. It was actually his idea to keep it on the downlow, not wanting me to see the finished product until it was finished. Which just made me overall curious.

“Slade’s the fucking best,” I said as we approached place we’d be meeting with him, “You won’t find a better artist, ‘specially someone that does villains. At least, that’s my opinion. He is a good friend.”

“Never heard yah talk about him before.”

I chuckled, watching Giran take a few drags from his cigarette before we headed inside.

“He hasn’t tatted me in a while. We go way back… since before the league.”

He understood exactly what I was getting at by the lowering of my voice. Talking about it now was a lot easier, and I have him partially to thank for that. I don’t feel the need to keep it bottled up anymore. I’m the way I am because of my past, and even though it wasn’t easy, I met a lot of people along the way that I wouldn’t replace for anything.

Slade was actually one of the only people that I trusted back then. When I worked for the gang of vigilantes, everyone seemed to have their own plans; and I learned early on that I couldn’t trust anyone. He was the only one that actually seemed to give a damn, and was part of the reason I was able to get out. He’s the only person from that part of my life that I like and still keep around.

But then again… most of them aren’t around much anymore.

“You say that he’s good, and I trust yah,” He said, putting out his cigarette on the ground below.

“Good. You know I wouldn’t lie to you.”

I winked, and choked back a laugh whenever he gave me a little smirk.

Taking out my phone, I sent Slade a quick text to let him know we were here and found our meeting location. He has a shop that’s a little hidden behind a few different bigger stores in a certain part of town. Only his clients know exactly where to find it, and he changes locations every so often for a change of scenery. And because when working with villains it’s a lot easier to keep your location moving at all times.

Giran opened the door for me, ignoring the way I wiggled my eyebrows at him teasingly. “Aren’t you just a gentlemen,” I giggled, feeling a sudden rush of cold air from inside the building.

It felt nice to finally be back in Slade’s shop, really itching to get something new after so long. The last time I came with Sayeko, it was a really fun night together. I was really looking forward to sharing this experience with my husband, because I actually did enjoy sitting down for a tattoo or getting piercings. I love the self expression of it, and seeing him was a bonus.

“There she is. Late as always,” Slade’s voice rumbled.

“When am I ever on fucking time? You should expect that shit from me.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t have anyone else booked today. I woulda had your ass out on the street looking for a cheap ass job somewhere else.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing as he gave me a quick hug.

“She likes to take her sweet ass time that’s for sure.”

“I’ve learned better than to fucking expect Ash of all people to be here when I tell her to be. You must be the husband. Yah a lot older than I expected-”

“Slade-”

The man barked a laugh, reaching out to shake Giran’s hand.

“Nice to finally meet the man that finally roped the fucking bitch.”

“If I’m a fucking bitch, then you’re sure as hell a jackass.”

But the two of us laughed, having a close relationship that I knew he was just taking jabs. No one else would ever be allowed to talk to me like that, but this was how the two of us always were.

Slade readjusted the hat that sat backwards on his fiery red hair, a smirk constantly on his face. He seemed like a rather smiley guy which was different than what Giran had heard about him. Or at least different than how he expected. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing, and he definitely looked the part with tattoos covering his arms and neck.

“She’s a handful, that’s for sure.”

“Ain’t that the goddamn truth. Oh, and I don’t have any steaks to keep you occupied while I do him, so I don’t wanna hear you bitching.”

“Whatever man. I’m not even hungry anyway.”

“Took care of that before we left,” Giran said with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes, following Slade towards the back where his equipment was. He was going to start on me first since mine wasn’t going to be as much as Giran’s. Which I didn’t mind, being a little antsy to sit in the chair and get going anyway.

I already spoke with him previous about exactly what I wanted, and then a little bit of what Giran wanted as well. But I gave him Slade’s number for him to go on a little back and forth to let him sketch it out before we got in. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he wasn’t going to pull these out and make them look beautiful.

We were going to do a wolf and moon combo, and I was rather excited that Giran chose to do a wolf. It made me feel really soft, and I respectfully chose a moon for many different reasons. A lot of people would assume that it had something to do with something entirely different than what it actually was.

When Slade showed me the design he had, I was more than excited. It was going to look gorgeous on my forearm, and even though it wasn’t intricate… it still meant a great deal to me. He could tell by the way my eyes lit up when I saw it, and then when it was placed on my skin I was even more thrilled.

“So… I know why he chose the wolf,” Slade spoke up over the sound of his gun as he started, “But why the moon? You like howling at it or some shit.”

But he smirked knowing exactly what my response was going to be. I get rather heated whenever anyone tries to speak on things they don’t know about, which is mainly just anything wolf related. It’s part of the reason why I’m kind of annoying when the subject comes on. I just want to clear up any misconceptions.

“No, that’s bullshit. There is no howling at the moon. It’s just a fucking call, but you wouldn’t be the first one that’s said that shit to me.”

“Okay, then why the moon? I’m just fucking curious.”

Chewing on my bottom lip, I looked up to see Giran watching me from his seat not too far away. My lips curled into a little smile, and when I answered I was mainly looking at him the whole time. He was the reason that I was getting this after all, and I never really explained exactly why I was choosing this of all things. One would think it was because of something else when it was completely different to me.

“I didn’t choose it because of that… the moon is actually a big part of my power. It’s my strength,” I said and felt my cheeks burning a bit.

“Now who’s the cheesy one.”

I giggled, reaching my free hand over to squeeze his own.

But it was the truth. The moon gives me strength, both for my quirk and mentally. It was a symbol of how far I’ve come. In the past, I spent many nights underneath the moon and the stars, wondering exactly where my life was heading. I had no direction, and I had no one around but myself at the time.

When I looked up at the moon, I felt a weight being lifted from my shoulders. Because I knew that no matter what, the moon would be the one constant thing in my life. The one source that I had of strength and determination. Because especially with the full moon, which is what I was getting tattooed, it breathed life into my quirk. It made me the strong and powerful woman I am today, and it continues to be that constant source of strength and power.

That’s why I chose it, because Giran is my constant strength in so many different ways. Not exactly physically but mentally. He gives me the strength to wake up everyday and be myself. He makes me feel whole, and without him I don’t know where I would be today. So I want to be able to look at my arm and feel that strength of the moon… and my forever.

“That is really fucking cheesy,” Slade responded with a laugh.

“Hey! It’s the truth! You’re the one who asked.”

“I’m just fucking with you. It’s sweet.”

I readjusted myself in the chair, feeling the needles poking at my skin. I’ve done this so many times now that I could almost fall asleep while he does it. The feeling is almost… calming in a way. It’s very strange, but I can’t exactly explain it. Whenever we first met and he started doing my tattoos, I learned to love the pain.

I’d felt pain for so long, and this was almost my way of reclaiming it. In a way that was beauty on my skin to remind me that I am going to be alright. I am a collection of my past and my present, and I don’t have to be ashamed of that. I can wear it proudly and honor the person that I am. It took me a long time to finally be able to do that, and that’s where I know that I have matured.

I’m still the same badass werewolf bitch with a crazy temper, but a lot of the time I am just me. No more needing to hide behind the sarcasm and the sass, because I loved where I was in my life. And for that I was extremely grateful.

“You know, I’m happy for you,” Slade spoke up as he was almost finished, “You’ve changed a lot since we first met. That angry young girl is pretty much gone. Guess we got you to thank for that.”

He motioned over to Giran with a smirk, but he did mean every word he said.

“Can’t take all the credit. She did a lot of that herself. She’s a strong woman, I just was lucky to marry her.”

I giggled softly, trying to hide my blush behind my hair.

But it was too late. Slade saw it and he teased me relentlessly about it. Saying that he never thought he’d see the day that I, of all people, was blushing this much. The only time that he ever heard me giggle even close to this is whenever we were out drinking together. I also have never smiled this much since we’ve known each other.

But that’s just how happy I was. Giran made me feel so safe, and I was comfortable in the way that I felt with myself that I didn’t need to hide that.

“Alright, looks like you’re done. Take a look at it,” Slade said, wiping off the excess before he allowed me to look at it.

The work was gorgeous as always, and it was just a simple moon with a good amount of detail. There was a bit of clouds behind it that I added for a bit of flair, and it was honestly gorgeous. Exactly what I would expect from my good friend Slade. He’s also improved a lot since I’ve known him.

“It’s… it’s beautiful, Slade.”

I felt tears pricking the corners of my eyes, and I tried to hide it but it was too late.

Seeing it just reminded me of how deeply in love I was. This was the best decision I could have made. Now I can look at my arm when I’m feeling down and remember how far I’ve come. Remember all the people that love me, and remember the one person that will always be there for me. The one man that I can always count on, and that I will love until the very end.

“Thank you… really… this is perfect.”

He patted my hand, and for a second we were just two old friends. The smile on his face was one I had only seen the night that I left that horrible gang. There was a lot of care that we had for one another, because he saw all that I went through. He’s the only person from my past that I keep in my life, and for good reason. He knew how much this all meant to me.

“Alright, the mushy shit is over,” He said which only made me chuckle, “It’s your turn. Come tell me how this looks.”

Giran took over from my spot in the seat, and I took his spot off to the side. This was the first time I was going to see a little bit of what he had wanted. This was the surprise he had expected, and I was definitely surprised.

“First time, I’m assuming?” Slade asked with lifted brows.

“Yeah. Never really wanted one until this one talked me into it.”

He laughed, “Not surprised. Ash has a way of getting what she wants.”

I narrowed my eyes, leaning over to softly punch his arm teasingly.

Slade was always a bit of a jokester, even if on the outside he didn’t necessarily look like it. Some people say that we tend to bicker back and forth almost like brother and sister. But I don’t know if I see it that way.

“You can hold my hand if you need to,” I said with a smile, leaning over to catch a glimpse of the outline.

Giran ended up getting a wolf different than what I expected. It was a wolf sleeping on a small bed of grass, and it was looking really peaceful. I honestly expected him to go for a howling wolf or maybe even one barring its teeth. This honestly surprised me, and Slade seemed all too curious to know the reason.

He tends to not be so talkative whenever he’s working, but he reads the situation of each client to tell if they need him to distract them or not. But he is also a curious person.

“Alright, so what’s the story with the wolf? You got a good one like her?”

“Yeah… why’d you get one like that and not a scary looking one? I mean… it’s me after all.”

I laughed, leaning on the arm of my chair.

It was quite adorable watching him trying to hide the fact that it was uncomfortable. It was definitely a sensation you had to get used to, and the first time around is different for everyone. The placement made it a bit uncomfortable too, but I’ve had one in a worse spot.

“She might be a snarling, terrifying beast to someone else. But not to me. I admire her strength, but it’s not why I love her.”

I swallowed, feeling a lump in my throat and noticing how he wasn’t exactly looking me in the eye.

“Stop, baby, you’re going to make me cry again.”

He chuckled, and Slade had smirked almost as if he was going to say something. But he decided to keep it to himself, no doubt not wanting to ruin the moment.

But it was sweet that he didn’t think of me as this terrifying wolf that everyone else did. That he saw me for much more than that, and that’s why he means so much to me. He sees me for what I am past the power and the strength. He’s the only one that’s ever seen me truly vulnerable, and I trust him with everything I am.

Whenever Slade had finally finished his, I was blown away by how gorgeous it looked. I knew that he was talented, but there was just something about today that made me extra thankful and emotional. It was just so special to be doing this with my husband, and with our anniversary so close I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed.

“It looks wonderful, baby,” I said, my fingers laced with his own, “You really did pick something wonderful.”

“He’s the one who did all the work.”

“And I’m happy to do it. Glad you like it, Ash. You deserve to be happy.”

I smiled, reaching over to give Slade probably the biggest hug I’ve ever gave him.

There was no amount of words that I could say to thank him for everything. Not just the tattoos but just being by my side for all these years. We might not talk all the time, but whenever we reconnect it’s always like old times. When I look at him I don’t see my past as much as I just see a really good friend from a bad time in my life.

“Do you wanna go get some dinner with us?” I asked as we were getting ready to head out.

Slade shook his head, shaking Giran’s hand one last time.

“I got some shit to finish up. Plus, you two probably don’t want me ruining the mood. See you soon, yeah?”

I nodded, wrapping my arms around Giran’s and waving a quick goodbye.

The two of us decided just to order takeout when we got home, not wanting to really be out much longer. It was already late anyway, and I had bought everything I needed to take care of our tattoos beforehand. I couldn’t wait for it to finally heal and be able to show it off, but either way I was so excited to finally have it done.

Once we were finally home and sitting on the couch, I threw my legs into Giran’s lap and beamed a smile. “Thank you… for doing this with me,” I said, making sure to be very careful with my arm.

“‘Course, Princess. I’m glad we did.”

“You are?”

He nodded, brushing his thumb across my cheek.

The smile on his face was one that I hardly ever get to see. It was really only a smile that was saved for an occasion such as this. It was soft and it was gentle, and it almost brought tears to my eyes. Because I saw all the love he had for me in one smile. I don’t think he’ll ever realize just how much that means to me.

“I love you,” I said, “And I meant everything I said. You really are my strength.”

He didn’t answer, but there were no words that he could say. Instead, he grasped the back of my neck, and pulled me closer to him. My forehead pressed against his, just before he placed a small kiss on it.

My cheeks flared, and I felt a soft smile curl onto my lips.

He wasn’t just my strength. He was my home, my happy place, my safe place. There was no amount of words I could use to express all the things he meant to me. My heart just felt so full knowing that he was mine and mine alone.

There will always be a piece of my heart that he has. And now, he has a permanent spot on my skin. I couldn’t feel prouder knowing that I will forever have a piece of him.

My one bright spot in a once dark place.

[lettersandinkstains]

Chapter One;; The Land of Snow

Sage shoves her hands in the pockets of her furred coat and hunches over, watching as puffs of breath appear in the air and quickly disappear. She’s not technically allowed to be out as far as she is, but what her father doesn’t know, won’t hurt him. When he’s busy, and her mother has taken to locking herself in that vast, forbidden library, she, herself takes it as an oppertunity to slip out and do whatever she likes.

Her foot catches on an icy patch, and she slides back briefly before she catches herself and steadies, forcing herself to push forward despite it. The climb towards her destination always takes forever, in her eyes, but for Sage, it has the best view of her wonderful city and part of her perfect homeland.

It’s the same each time, when she gets there, brushing past thick, snow covered bushes with dead ends of branches catching at her long dress and scratching at exposed skin. That doesn’t matter to her, either, as she now stares at her home from afar. She’s able to ignore the ugly gray stone walls that block her city from the outside world.

Rows of huts and homes, brightly lit with the orange color of their fires glow upon the white snow that glitters in both sun and moon. Far below, she knows people are going about their day, from selling food to caring for their family. There are large fluffy cats that lay claim to homes, parts of their crowded streets, and high trees. And of course, her castle, sits elevated, in middle of it all, overlooking their people.

Just as the gods had once watched them, they now do the same.

Surrounding the city are the evergreens, the very forest she’s not quite allowed to go into. She never understood why, as she always sneaks out, past the heavy, ugly iron gates anyways. However, those who leave past the gates of the capital, are never allowed to return.

In the distance, she sees the mountains her heart yearns to adventure to. She had always been told that there was nothing there, nothing important, and the Dwarves who had taken up their home are vile and to be avoided. So, Sage always obeyed. Because that’s what she does.

Her father knows best, her father is the king.

Something catches her eye, and she squints. It dawns on her that the gates to the walls are opening, and the Knights, with their silver armor glistening in the setting sun are marching through, their banners raised high, the dark purple lined with white tassels and the black sun imprinted in the middle stands out so amazingly well. 

Both curious and concerned, Sage quickly turns and makes her way down the slippery path.

She’s almost out of breath when she finally makes it down there and ducks behind a couple of large bushes and peeks through. The Knights are numerous, and perhaps their adventuring is done for awhile but still, they never arrive in the evening.

“Keep going!” A gruff voice says, and she follows where it had come from. Near the back is Commander, dressed under heavy gold armor and standing stall. The person she was speaking to has their hands bound behind their back--tightly with rope and face in a glower. “Or you’ll die upon my sword now, Fae.”

“Gladly,” Comes the grunt of the--Fae?--who only takes one tiny step forward. “At least, I would die with honor.”

Sage grimaces as she watches the Commander--the woman who always spoke so kindly to her--grasps at the newcomers upper arm and tosses her forward. She considers showing herself and yelling at the older woman, wondering if that would be the best thing to do. They shouldn’t treat others so roughly, or cruelly.

She shifts a little, trying to get a better peak at the newcomer, and that seems to alert them. Sharp golden eyes stare at her, so intensely, Sage wonders if they can read her mind.

“I said, keep moving, assassin!”

Oh. Oh no.

“What are you doing?” Sorrel’s cheerful voice rings out in the now silent air and Sage jumps, quickly getting to her feet and brushing the dirt off of her dress. She forces a smile as the young knight stands before her, a curious look across his face. “Like, you’re not supposed to be out here.”

“Ah, uh well,” Sage quickly wracks her brain, trying to find an excuse--any excuse really--to explain her presence outside the gates. “I just thought it was a lovely day to go for a walk.”

Sorrel wrinkles his nose, a deep frowning setting on his winter kissed face.

“Okay,” He concedes, and offers her his arm. “Shall I walk you back?”

“I would be honored,” She answers, just as sweetly as he had asked. Gently, she grabs his arm, the leather is soft underneath her touch but frozen still. It dawns on her that tonight will be the coldest it has ever gotten.

Dinner is silent, with the clinking of silverware and Sage is hunched over her plate. She’s not very hungry, but she knows it’s not good to waste food. It’s not like they have an abundance to waste. When Sorrel had dropped her off back at the castle, they both had been bombarded by questions by the guards. Where had the princess been, why was Sorrel with her?

At least Sorrel was nice enough to lie for her, claiming that he had taken her out to the village to look around and see the people. He had teased that they were both looking for a good site for their future wedding, where all can attend. Sage had played along--though she’s still unsure if she actually wants to marry him. The guards had gladly accepted the answer, and congratulated both of them on their engagement. He beamed and Sage deflated a little.

Admittedly, she is mad at him for teasing at the idea, but at least it gets the both of them out of trouble.

“Sit up straight,” Her mother says sharply, and Sage scowls but forces herself to. “You’re a princess. You will one day sit on that same throne, so your posture is important! Slouching shows you do not care.”

“Yes, mother,” Sage answers as she stabs a vegetable with her fork. She still feels like a child when her mother speaks to her.

Unlike her, her mother always sits tall and proud, her beauty has not faded over the past twenty years. Yet, she has never once smiled, never once addressed her by name and always spoke down to her. It’s as though Sage were just a piece of dirt that won’t quite go away.

“Speak respectfully to your mother, Sage.”

“I’m sorry, father.”

The heavy silence fills the air again, and Sage shifts a little.

“So I hear you are looking for a place for your supposed wedding with Sorrel?” Her father breaks the silence this time, his voice rich and deep. He always speaks so kindly to her. But of course he does, she’s his daughter and the apple of his eye.

Sage licks her lips. “Uh. Yeah, something like that.”

Beneath the rough curls of his beard, his lips quirk into a smile.

“I like him,” Her father commends. “Quite a responsible young man, very kind. He will do you well.”

“Sure.” Sage agrees, and stuffs a brussel sprout into her mouth. “He’s great.” She says, after she swallows. It’s not that he isn’t, it’s that he’s not right for her. She quickly finishes eating, and quietly excuses herself. A big part of her wants to ask why their army had a prisoner and who that prisoner was, but she’s not supposed to know.

Asking would mean telling her parents that she was definitely outside the walls, it would mean she was somewhere, where she wasn’t supposed to be. And that would mean she would be in trouble. Losing her parents’ respect would be the end of the world for her, and she doesn’t want that.

Not at all.

When she had arrived in her room, the maids are all insistant on helping her get changed for the evening so she can go to bed early--after all, she will be helping her father out in her throne room. Yet, she’s not quite ready.

“I would rather read,” she tells one maid who is fussing over the lace of her corset. “Would you be able to grab a book from my mothers library?”

The maid looks at her through the mirror, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, princess, I don’t know if your mother will allow it.”

Of course not, she thinks bitterly. Nobody is allowed in there.

“Perhaps you could fetch me a snack instead?”

“Yes, of course. I can do that!” The laces finally come undone, and Sage is soon dressed in her nightclothes. With the maid quickly hurrying out of the room to find her a small snack, she takes advantage of now being alone and slips out of her room.

The halls are, as usual, somehow empty but she can still hear the voices of servants and guards alike carrying through them. They bounce and echo, and Sage shivers. If she did not live here, she would assume the castle is haunted with the way there’s only voices, but never people.

Along the walls, portraits of the kings before her father hang. They are all grand, all serious, and all so dressed in a gaudy grandeur way. Some liked to show of their wealth, others were more humble about who they were--her father most definitely is one of them.

“You’ll be on there one day,” Her father would tell her when she was young. “You will look just as wonderful and grand as them as well.” He, too, has his portrait hanging up near her mother’s library and away from her forefathers. Sage has always dreamed of it.

Where she walks, their eyes follow.

The oak wood doors are far taller than she will ever reach, intricate designs of trees carved into them, on one side, is a tree blooming so beautifully and on the other, a tree that has died. Her mother was always had odd ideas.

Sage knocks, the sound echoing off the walls--too loudly. Perhaps she alerted everyone in the castle? For a moment, she’s frozen, waiting for someone to come running and telling her to go back to her room.

When that doesn’t happen, she tries knocking again. She knows her mother is in there, and she wants to see her. Sage tries to hide her surprise as the door finally opens, and her mother towers over her.

“Yes?”

“Um,” Sage fumbles, having not expected an answer. “Uh--”

“Stuttering is unbecoming. Say what you need.” Her mother says impatiently, and Sage can’t look at her. Cannot fathom looking at her, as though it would feel disrepctful to do so.

“I was wondering if I could borrow a book. I’ve read all the ones I have.” There once was a time where her mother would give her books to read, allow her to wander off into worlds unknown to her, and let her have a little piece of different places that she will never able allowed to see. “And would like to read something else. If--if that’s okay with you.”

The silence feels long, discomforting.

“Perhaps, instead of reading, you should satiate your curiosity.” Sage finally forces herself to look at her mother, eyes a little wide. “Go pay our newest guest a visit.”

“Um, what?”

“I am not stupid,” Her mother answers, a little sharply. “Now, do not be rude. I did not raise you to be ignore guests.”

With that, her mother closes the large, thick door with a thud and Sage stands there, baffled. Is she talking about the prisoner from before? Surely, there was a reason they had been arrested!

Ruminating in her thoughs as she walks away, Sage returns to her room to find a plate of a small slice of cake waiting for her at her desk. After eating it, she resigns herself to bed, sliding in underneath the softness of her covers, the silk brushing against her skin.

Yet, the hours slowly pass and Sage cannot sleep. What did she mean? The question circles around in her head, over and over again. With resignation, she throws her covers off and slips out of bed.

As quietly as possible, Sage exits her room one more time that night and works her way through the maze that is the hallways. Most everyone is asleep by now, except for the guards on duty, who only give her a slight nod in greeting. Nobody dares question why she is up and about, as questioning royalty could get them in trouble.

Upon reaching the entrance of the dungeons, Sage swallows and gently sets one foot on the top stone step. The further she goes, the colder it gets. She wraps her arms around herself, trying to retain warmth as she makes her way down the spiral stairecase.

It’s damp and musty, and she tries to put on a brave face as she strides past dungeons of prisoners, some who rattle their chains, some who sneer at her. They don’t matter, they’ve all commited crimes against the Crown and are being punished for it.

Nobody ever dies from any crimes they commit.

She finds who she’s looking for, the newcomer from outside the gates. They don’t acknowledge her, with their head down and beautiful, thick curls of hair covering their face and the moonlight barely casting down on them. 

They look so haunted, she thinks.

Sage stares for a moment, wondering if she should say something.

Finally, the newcomer looks up, a deep frown on their face. Intense, golden eyes that could only compare to the Sun itself, stare right into her own. Sage feels her heart stop.