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thisblogisaboutabook · 9 months

Note

hi! i saw that you were writing acotar fics inspired by taylor’s songs (which i both love so this is amazing), do you think you can write a fic based on “ivy” ? it always makes me think about the acotar world for some reason. maybe with azriel if you’re okay with that ?

Am I okay with that?? I’m more than okay with that! Perhaps even elated! Azriel is my fav and I had the pleasure of seeing Taylor and Aaron perform Ivy together at the Eras Tour. Thank you so much for the incredible ask!

Ivy (covered in you)

An ACOTAR oneshot inspired by Taylor Swift

Azriel x Reader

Update: Find the bonus chapter here: Solstice Tree Farm (Christmas Tree Farm)

warnings: attempted SA, dub-con, suggestive, language

Warm lips pressed against my forehead as calloused fingertips deftly pushed aside the stray hairs that had slipped over my face.

We’d been wrapped up here for hours. An incandescent glow emanating from us that had nothing to do with the warm fire shrouding us in its flickering light. A plush blanket draped over our naked forms as my hands roamed freely underneath. His skin was warm, heavenly, every sacred inch of it bringing solace to my frigid heart. His own heart responsible for melting away the frost that covered it most of the time.

I leaned up to look at him, this male whom I loved with every ounce of my being. Looked into those golden-flecked hazel eyes that bore straight into my soul, seeing all of me, every cursed inch.

“You’re mine.” I whispered, pulling a large scarred hand over my breast, letting him feel the heart that beat so effortlessly in his presence. “Always mine, right in here.”

His hand lingered there, eyes filled with reverence as he absorbed each beat of my heart, every thought that filled my head, the entirety of my soul that was consumed with him - screamed that it loved him, desired him, belonged to him. Minutes passed like that. My fingers tracing soothing lines around those beautiful scars, scars derived from the ugliest of places. He was my reminder, my hope, that beauty could grow from the ugliest places. He survived the unspeakable horrors of his childhood and became this wonderful male before me. A beacon of hope rooted so deeply into my soul, filling it with rays of love that flooded out the darkness within me. The darkness that-

A hideous laugh cracked through the memory, like lightning jolting my thoughts back to this waste of a reality. My husband sharing some crass tale that he’d recycled with the audiences of various court functions over the years.

I threw back the glass of wine in my hand just in time to catch the attention of an attendant strolling by, placing the empty glass on his tray and snagging two more glasses off of it. I’d need them both to get through his pompous storytelling.

I resented the male with every fiber of my being. I wanted to hate him but told myself he wasn’t that bad. He didn’t hit or threaten violence against me. I had every physical item I could ask for. I even had blissful breaks from his presence, free to roam where I chose in his absence - so long as I didn’t leave Vallahan and maintained a modest, ladylike presence.

He didn’t have the brain to challenge any of the bigoted views instilled in him growing up: belief in the separation of “lesser-fae” and “high fae”, a wife’s place was to sit obediently by his side and look pretty, females didn’t have a place in court politics. I would have never married him, given the choice. But what is choice in a place like Vallahan? I wished Mor were here to suffer through the evening with me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

My life changed the night I met Morrigan - an emissary from Prythian. We instantly hit it off. My husband dismissing her presence as she was merely a female, waving me off to “entertain” her. I led her to my library where we spoke for hours. I could not remember the last time I laughed like I did that night, had I ever?

From the start, I informed her that spending time with me was a futile effort. I had no sway in the court or even with my husband. I once had hope that he’d come around, see me as an equal who was worthy of his consideration. But that was a long time ago and I’d since given up - biding my time with wine, books, and spending his money.

I made a difference in the ways I could without getting cut off from the liberties of leaving the estate. I spent his money in less affluent areas of our city where I knew that it would make a difference. I tipped any server well and even tipped the shopkeepers and clerks, donated gifts my husband had given me that he’d since forgotten about, “accidentally” dropped gold marks as I walked past buskers and beggars in the street. Vallahan was incredibly wealthy. There was no excuse for the poverty that its royalty allowed to befall its “lesser” denizens.

Mor had simply waived off my efforts in sending her back out to network with the nobility and spent the duration of that event with me. We swapped tales of our lands, risqué jokes, of our families. Her family had been much worse than mine but elements were quite relatable. My family saw me as nothing more than a bargaining chip, marrying me off to the highest bidder, having nothing to do with me unless they needed an invitation to an event that could advance their social standing. I couldn’t relate, however, to her chosen family. I had nobody. She smiled, mentioning of a friend in her chosen family that I would love. She claimed we both held silent, observant statures in public settings, and let our true light shine when we were alone with friends. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that this was the first time in a century I’d truly let the light break through.

We began seeking eachother out at the functions she attended as emissary. Using my silent presence, I would garner information that could aid Mor in her peace treaty efforts. She never once asked such a thing of me. It was my choice to offer the information, a chance to make a difference. My idiot husband never once considering that her and I could be talking about anything other than classic literature and the latest fashions.

It was months later that I sat in our manor’s great room, quietly reading a book whilst sipping on a blend of spiced tea Mor had gifted me from Prythian. The sun shone through the windows, keeping the room illuminated enough while leaving shadowed corners perfect for going unnoticed and unbothered in.

Hushed voices interrupted my reading as my husband and a stern looking red-headed male entered the opposite end of the room, seating themselves in front of the fireplace - their chairs facing away from me. Without noticing my presence, they began speaking of communications between his court and the mortal queens. My ears perked at the mention of Koschei and something about an alliance. The males were interrupted by a house attendant informing them that their private lunch was prepared and awaiting them in the dining room.

The next time I spoke with Mor, her brows furrowed at the mention of the conversation, asking me to describe the male as best I could. I gave her the best description I could including his red hair, cold expression and baritone voice. Her jaw slackened, mouth forming an “Oh” before she muttered, “Fucking Beron.”

My eyes widened at the name. Beron Vanserra, the High Lord of Prythian’s Autumn Court.

From there, Mor asked if I remembered the friend she’d mentioned before, the observant one with quiet wit. As I nodded, she placed a gentle hand on my leg, quietly stating, “I need your help.”

We made a plan to meet up with her friend the following week as my husband traveled to Rask for meetings. I met Mor at the quarters she stayed at while on the continent. The room smelled of her and an intoxicating aroma of chilled mist and cedar. Mor hugged me before saying, “Y/N, meet Azriel. Spymaster of the Night Court.”

Any expectations I had of the “friend” Mor mentioned flew out the window. I never thought to question whether her friend was male or female, if they were high-fae, what they looked like… maybe I should have. I had to look like a fool as I gaped at the gorgeous male stepping out of the shadows and into the room’s light. Gold-flecked hazel eyes met mine as I marveled at the towering male before me. Raven-black hair, tan skin with tattoos peaking over the top of his black tunic, and the wings, oh they were incredible. The sun highlighting the subtle hues of red undertones throughout their massive form. An Illyrian. I’d read of the Illyrian warriors of Prythian in texts but I’d never seen one in person.

His jaw dropped for a moment as he looked to my feet where shadows were swirling. He apologized profusely as they ignored his command to return to him, stating that they had never done this before. I gave him a puzzled look before he continued, telling me that he was a Shadowsinger.

A Shadowsinger. I thought they were myths but here he was. This gorgeous, living, breathing male before me. As real as the palpitations I felt in my heart under his gaze.

Quickly I regained my composure as the three of us sat to discuss the information I’d gleaned from Beron and my husband. And from there, we worked together. The more information regarding a potential alliance we had, the more efficiently plans could be made to prevent it. Both Mor and Azriel respectfully ensured that I was comfortable with an increased spy presence as I worked with them. The risks of infiltrating were numerous but the risk of a potential alliance with Koschei outweighed any risk on our ends.

Azriel would sneak into court functions with Mor as she attended her standard emissary business - his shadows shrouding him from view, and I would meet with either Azriel or Mor anytime my husband was traveling on business to discuss the latest information from around the manor.

While my husband was completely oblivious, his family was dangerous. An elite family of nobility who dealt in bloodshed and blackmail. I was truly fortunate to not have been married off to one of his brothers - my husband being the least terrible of them all.

That night as I lay in bed, I found my heart racing. Not from fear but from…. Excitement. Azriel’s presence made me feel hopeful, giddy. He continued bringing up his concern for my safety during our meeting to which I insisted that I could handle myself. His persistence enough that by the end, I allowed him to send a shadow to accompany me for the time being.

I came to find the little shadow comforting. I knew from my studies that they were to be feared, yet I couldn’t help but enjoy its company. I began talking to it when nobody was around going as far as reading to the thing. Gods, had I really become so lonely that a shadow brought me joy?

The first time I met with Azriel alone, he gave me a mischevious grin. When asked what it was for, he just shook his head with a little blush rising to his cheeks. I shared my newest information while his eyes held a playful glint the entire time he listened. I finally elbowed him and insisted he tell me what he found so amusing.

Finally he spoke, “I enjoyed the smut you read to my shadow”

“WHAT!?” I asked, embarrassment rising to my face in an unflattering shade of red.

“My shadows… they tell me everything.” He quipped.

I looked at the shadow now cowering behind my ankles, “You traitorous little shit. I thought we were friends!”

Azriel laughed as the shadow wound up my body and nuzzled my face, a plea for forgiveness. I laughed knowing I should have expected it to relay the information to him.

I smirked, “I forgive you.”

The shadow danced joyfully in response.

Azriel leaned closer, “You seem to have made quite the friend out of that one.”

I nodded in agreement. Blushing at the closeness between our faces.

He smiled. “I’d like to be your friend too.”

Before I could give it a second thought, I closed the distance between us. I had just met this male, barely knew him, but something inside me tugged. Pulled me toward him. I couldn’t hold myself back. It was instinct. My lips needed to be on his, belonged there.

For a moment, he pulled back and looked at me. His eyes searching deep within mine, second guessing, searching for any doubt, seeking permission though I was the one to initiate the kiss.

It was wrong. I knew it was so wrong. I didn’t care. I never had a choice in my marriage but this, it was something I was choosing for myself. So long as Azriel wanted it too.

“Please” I whispered.

It was all he needed to hear before his lips were crashing into mine again.

That was the night the bond snapped into place and my soul became his entirely. Every fiber of my being belonged to him regardless of wherever my physical presence may be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As days and weeks flew by, I snuck out to him anytime I could, and when I wasn’t with him - a shadow always kept me company.

Azriel purchased a small cottage in the forest with a stone foundation, just large enough for the two of us. Ivy wound up the sides of the dated building and it’s shutters hung loosely. Most would look upon the home and turn their nose up to the state of it. But to me - to me it was everything.

We made love day and night, any time the coast was clear I sought him out. We shared our deepest secrets, held each other as we shared the heartbreaking traumas of our past. Mor met with me less and less, certainly Azriel’s own doing. Though she always sent her regards. I missed her but couldn’t resist the relief I felt at the increased opportunities to meet with Azriel.

This home felt so inviting. I never wanted to leave the cozy embrace of it, or Azriel. The places I had lived in my life were grand by any standards but they were not home, only large shells of loneliness with the sole purpose of containing bodies and furniture for those bodies.

But this, this small cottage, it was home. Azriel was home. Love and warmth encompassed me as soon as I’d walk through the doors and into his strong arms. Our scents intermingled, bodies intertwined, his love rooting itself like Ivy deeper and deeper within the cracks of my stone encompassed soul, tethering us together until I didn’t know where I ended and he began.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Weeks turned to months and my resentment towards my husband only grew. I began sneaking off to my home even when my husband wasn’t traveling. The fact that he didn’t notice my frequent absence was both a relief and infuriating. He thought so little of me that he’d never once considered what I could be doing behind his back.

I hated the nights he sought me out. Azriel and I both knew it was inevitable and in order to prevent any suspicion I complied. The entire time I’d close my eyes and picture the corded muscles of Azriel’s arms pressing on either side of my head, warm breath heating my neck as he peppered kisses and nipped down it and across my collarbone, wings cocooning us until we were the only two people in the world.

The times my husband would reach for my hand were rare as it was and now his touch just felt invasive, wrong. I longed for the feeling of Azriel’s freezing hands holding mine as we walked in from the snowy wood, the way he’d place a hand on my cheek allowing me to rest my weary head as I cried over our circumstances. I wanted nothing more than to flee with him but if we were caught….. a gods damned blaze would ensue.

Bond or no bond, my husband’s father would never forgive such an injustice toward his son, deeming it an insult to his entire family. He had enough pull with Vallahan’s Leaders that peace treaty talks had the potential to fall apart under his guidance. I was just one female and not one that a war would be started over, however, it could be the final straw leading to an alliance between the mortal queens, Koschei, Vallahan, and Beron’s people. The alliance being what started a war.

This fire we started together, the fire he started when he came into my life, the one that I fueled with a single kiss, it could burn so much more than just us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I once again was brought from reflecting by my husband’s nails-on-a-chalkboard voice. Gods, I was tired. Tired in every sense. Azriel and I had argued the previous night. He had insisted that he would not sneak into tonight’s event, sensing an increased possibility of us being caught. I knew he was right but it was one of those nights where I selfishly wanted nothing more than to run away with him.

My husband’s family traveled to our estate for the weekend, his mother had passed long ago, so it was just his father and miserable brothers visiting. Their attendance escalating risks but also offering the potential of pertinent information being exchanged.

I longed to feel his presence but no sign of his scent filled the air, no sign of his shadows grazing the nape of my neck in greeting aside from my one constant companion. As the evening’s festivities died down I bid the remainder of the party goodnight. I joined my husband’s side to let him know that I was retiring to my chambers, pressing a hand to my forehead, citing a headache. He scoffed in return.

“You are drinking too much. It is a poor reflection on my status as head of this household if you cannot control your alcohol consumption.” I rolled my eyes, turning to retreat as he grabbed my arm firmly, yanking me back to him, “You are lucky we have an audience right now. You would be wise to show me respect.” He was always like this when his family was present. Another mark on the long list of qualities I despised about him.

I said nothing more and wound through the corridors toward my chambers when hushed tones caught my ear. The gravelly voices of my father and brothers-in-law carrying to me. I halted my steps, silently padding closer to the room they occupied.

His father spoke first, “We will approach the King when we return home, regarding the pressing nature of the alliance. Between that whore emissary nosing around and the overgrown bat, we can certainly allude to the benefits of an alliance with Koschei and the queens. Prythian nosing around in the affairs of our kingdom will only work to our advantage.”

The eldest brother chimed in, “Do you think Koschei will hold to his end of the bargain - that we will each receive a territory to overrule in Prythian once it’s been conquered?”

“Considering we have the key to freeing him from the lake he’s confined to, he’ll do anything for us, and when we capture the bat - it will only enhance the deal. Think of what could be achieved with the Shadowsinger under his control.” His father replied.

Shit

I needed to get to Azriel now. How did they even think they could capture him? The fools were so sure of themselves, fueled by pure male arrogance. Quietly I turned around taking a few silent steps away before quickening my pace. I left Azriel’s single shadow that still kept an eye on me to spy on the rest of the conversation.

Rounding a corner toward the cloakroom I crashed into a body. I looked up to find my husband staring at me. “Where are you going?” He murmured. Clearly drunk.

“I needed fresh air, my stomach is hurting.” I lied.

“That can wait. You’re coming with me.” He stated flatly. Lust clouding his eyes.

Shit!

I couldn’t turn him down without raising suspicion. Finding Azriel would have to wait until he was asleep.

I turned to stride down the hall alongside him. Silence filling the air, his scent gagging me.

We entered his chamber and he locked the door behind him before pushing me back toward the bed. Once the backs of my knees met the mattress he shoved me back onto it, not even bothering to remove my dress. He simply raised my skirts, fumbling with the laces of his own pants.

I felt sick. I hated contact with him, the resentment I felt burning like a living flame inside of me - forging itself into pure, solid hate.

“Look your husband in the eyes, wife. Is it not enough that I clothe you, feed you, give you a home only outdone by a castle?”

My brows furrowed as he continued, still fumbling with those laces.

And I was the one who couldn’t control my alcohol consumption

“You seek the company of a lesser fae? Allowing yourself be sullied by that beast?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked innocently. It was then that he backhanded me and spat “Don’t play dumb now, whore.” I cried out at the surprise of the lashing. “Since you’re going to act like a whore I’ll treat you like one.”

“It’s a shame that you couldn’t control yourself. You almost got away with it until you were spotted with that thing yesterday - spotted by my own brother.” Sneering, he continued, “Oh but they have plans for that brute and you are the key.”

With that he pulled out a knife, holding it just above my throat, his hand slightly shaking. Panic started to fill me as the realization sunk in that he was going to use me as a lure to capture Azriel. I swallowed that rising panic praying he hadn’t felt it through the bond.

I had to act now. Turning my head, nearly nicking the flesh of my neck on the blade, I gasped as if I saw something - someone - enter the room. The drunken idiot fell for the rouse. I grabbed his wrist, shoving the knife back and kneed him with all the force I could muster right in the balls.

He rolled off of me and I swiped the knife from his hand. Before he could call for help, I took the opportunity to press it to his neck. Azriel’s shadow returning to me just in time to bind his arms together.

”You thought you could assault me? You couldn’t even handle the laces of your pants, let alone a dagger.”

He looked at me, eyes wide, that lust in his eyes taken over by fear.

“I thought you to be better than your father and brothers but I see your true colors now.”

He opened his mouth to cry for help but I sliced the dagger across his neck before he could make a sound.

“Fool.” I muttered and walked away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The manor burned in flames behind me. My body clothed in spare garb kept in the staff supply room as to not attract any suspicious eyes in the streets. The staff had all returned to their own homes for the night with our essential staff returning to their on-ground quarters, separate from the manor. I stashed as many jewels and gold marks as I could into my clothing. I would find a way to distribute the wealth to displaced staff once I found a safe way to do so.

But now all I could think of was the path ahead. My husband was gone. His awful father and brothers too. Gone before they could ever share their suspicions of Az and Mor with the king. Gone before they could further influence the forming of an alliance. Their remaining ashes would be nothing but dust in the king’s ear by the time the fire burned out. Prying eyes would assume I had died in the blaze as well.

The realization hit me as I made my way through the streets: I was free. For the first time in my life, I had the choice to follow my own path and I knew exactly who that chosen path led to.

All that remained was to run away to him. I sent a gentle tug on our bond but a certain shadow had already went out ahead of me. And out of the dark cover of night, he emerged. His shadows shrouding us like the Ivy on our cottage. Home. He was my home.

~~~~~~~

EPILOGUE

The dining room filled with laughter. Mor sipped her glass of the expensive wine that she insisted she were entitled to after all of the chaos her family -our family- subjected her to. Azriel’s arm rested on the chair behind me as he sat in contented silence, those ever observant eyes taking in his family seated all together. It had been ten years today since we fled Vallahan. Nine years eleven months and thirty days since we’d accepted the bond, and the rest had been bliss. Of course there was always some challenge to arise but nothing that Azriel and I couldn’t take on as a team, as equals.

In the time that had passed, Beron’s son Eris took over his throne after the High Lord died from a mysterious illness with symptoms very similar to the effects of bloodbane.

After I left the room that fateful night in Vallahan, my favorite little shadow picked up very important information regarding the key to freeing Koschei that had been alluded to. It was now safely hidden away under extensive wards in the Night Court, far away from Koschei or the Mortal Queens.

For now, we were safe. We were free. We could conquer anything with this Court of Dreams.

“Where’d you go?” Az whispered, his beautiful voice bringing chills of the best kind to me as his lips brushed across my forehead. I gave him a smile sending waves of contentment and joy through the bond.

“Hey!” Mor said. “Where’s your wine? Az! How could you forget to pour a glass for your lady.” She threw a playful wink in my direction. “I swear, I’m going to steal her from you if you keep this up.”

I said nothing as I looked to Mor, resting a hand gently across the light swelling of my abdomen.

Azriel’s eyes sparkled and he quipped, “I’m taking a break from wine duty, Mor.”

“Chocolate duty would be great though.” I said, looking back to Az. He gave a nod and I dropped the shield that masked my scent from our family.

Cheers of happiness and laughter erupted around the room. Mor let out a high-pitched squeal like I’d never heard as she embraced me. I smiled, absorbing all of the love that filled the room.

This love. This life. It was home. Not a magnificent curse but the ivy roots of my dreamland covering me in love, in him.

#taylor swift #acotar #acotar oneshot #ivy #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #azriel #morrigan #oneshot #acotar x taylor swift #x reader

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http-paprika · 7 months

Text

IVY AND IRON THORNS

CHAPTER I

a medieval au / sir simon riley x lady reader / 3.3k / warnings descriptions of violence, gore, death, and religious practice / taglist open

betrothed to the prince of a nearby land, you embark on a journey that changes your life forever…

masterlist / chapter II

Above your head, the sky is deep and dark, the morning stars twinkling as you are drawn awake. Maids hurrying about your bed chambers, packing trunks full of fine dresses in vibrant, rich colors of blues, pinks, and reds. You watch your life belongings stowed away into the heavy trunks and chests as you sleepily rub your eyes, still wishing you were happily asleep in the warmth of your bed and annoyed by the prospects of the journey ahead.

Four days and three nights you will travel with your mother and escort. A long trek to your betrothed and his lands. But it is necessary, every day you overhear the rumblings of your father’s enemies encroaching on farmlands and forests, raiding villages, and terrorizing peasants. This marriage of convenience will strengthen the lands and riches, providing allies from raiders and wars. It is your duty as the only child to ensure the peace of your people and to continue the family line.

“Mistress, you mustn’t be falling asleep now. We still have much to do before your journey.” The head maid scolds you as your head bows while she brushes out your hair. “You can sleep in the carriage.”

“But I’m tired!” You whine, reminding the head maid that you are still treated like a girl. Allowed to do as you please and act out as you want. No one dares to scold the lone daughter, your happiness is of the utmost importance.

“Ach, we all are, Mistress. But you are to be married and become a wife. You must start acting as such and put your childish behaviors behind you.” She reprimands you, tilting your head up right before picking up the ornate silver brush and pulling the bristles through your locks.

Instinctually, your lip pushes out in a pout. A frown forms as the oak door of your bed chambers pushes open and your mother, the Lady of the castle, strides in. Her garments and hair are simple and plain compared to her normal daily wear, she is dressed for the travel and looks over at your dress of choice disapproving.

“Don’t you think it’s a little much for traveling, my dear?” She frowns at the red velvet dress, a gift from your father when merchants from afar visited the castle. It’s your favorite dress, beautiful with fine embroidery. “Shouldn’t you save this for when we arrive at Darenby Castle?”

“No, I want to wear it today. This is my wedding week, and the bride shall wear what the bride wants.” You announce, lifting your chin with a proud smile. Your mother shakes her head but does not pester you further, placing a kiss on your cheek before giving final instructions to the maids and manservants. She departs from the room with one last lingering glance, you are her shining star. The only one of her offspring who’d lived past childhood, she’s been trying hard to hide her grief for your sake. But you’d heard the whispers, her pleading with your father not to send you so far away, and chose to hide away the feeling it left you with.

When your hair is done up, out of your face, and lying beautifully, the chambermaids help you into the dress, lacing it up and tying it closed. You catch your reflection in the looking glass, letting out a satisfied hum, so young and fair to the eyes. It was no wonder that when the Prince first laid eyes on you, he joined the long line of suitors.

“I don’t know how you’ll manage to be even prettier on the day of your wedding. But you will, Mistress.” One of the maids says sheepishly, looking up at you with wide eyes. She is younger than you, only having served in the castle for one year and still learning how to properly behave and address you. But her compliment kept you from scolding her and making sure the head maid put her in her place.

“Yes, I will. Won’t I?” She shakes her head vigorously at your question, before returning to her work and allowing you a moment to take a final good look at your room. Many years had you spent in here: sleeping, learning, playing, and growing. It’s your fortress of refuge from everything, a place you can run to. And you will never return. Even if the Prince allows you to visit, they will room you in the dreadful East Wing where your horrid aunt stayed for so long.

Eventually, as the sun begins to paint the early morning sky shades of pale blue, orange, pink, and purple you journey through the halls of the castle. Down stone steps and over wooden floors to the bailey where the carriage, cart, and horses are loaded and preparing for departure. Your father is talking with the escort, giving instructions for the journey as you approach him.

“Ah, my dear! What a beautiful rose you are this morning.” He beams, approving of your appearance which took after your mother. “And a bride you shall be. I received a letter from the Prince just last night, he is looking forward to your arrival with much anticipation.”

“As am I.” You reply cheeks tinged pink from praise. Though you will miss your home, the gardens, and the grand hall, you are anxious to begin the new journey. To receive a new title, one far greater than you would’ve inherited from your parents. Princess has such a beautiful ring to it– like you were born for it.

As the carriage begins to drive away, all of heaven seems to shine for you as you and the escort depart from the castle. The colorful songbirds singing your farewell, the flowers blooming alive for the spring, the world was awake for you.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Thunder drums out, the noise exploding in your ears as you startle awake. Heart racing as wind howls and tears at the curtains of the carriage, rain beginning to pelt out. Your eyes shift around the interior of the carriage as you try to compose yourself as your mother had, but fear of the storm holds onto you.

The escort is yelling amongst themselves, one of the knights speaking to your mother about what must be done. For the past two days, the journey was passing well. Besides being jostled around on bumpy dirt roads and having to listen to your mother read passages of Latin, you hadn’t minded. And the growing excitement of seeing your fiance made everything fade away.

But the sun has hidden, dark clouds bursting open as all of heaven’s floods fall to the earth. Another clap of thunder scares you, lightning cracking along the blackened sky as the escort pushes through the weather. The choice had been made to push through, you’re told there’s an abbey not too far away that will provide safety from the storm.

Rain continues to soak into the carriage as you move to your mother’s side, clinging to her for warmth and security. She stays calm, praying the entire time and holding you close as the carriage drives on slowly, bumping through the mud and puddles. The horses fighting against their handlers, every time thunder sounds and lightning strikes, you can hear the creatures neigh in protest.

For a moment, you close your eyes and cover your ears. Trying to block out all the noise and chaos hoping it will all pass. But it only gets louder, violent shouts muffled by the storm, the sound of metal clanging and snapping as swords battle. When you open your eyes, an arrow cuts through the curtains of the carriage. In fear, you scream as it pierces into the wood.

Your mother’s prayers fall on deaf ears from God as the door is thrown open, and a man in a torn brown cloak and scarf wrapped around his face sneers down at you. In his hands, a silver blade is still covered in scarlet blood.

“Please, we’ll give you whatever you ask for. Gold, silver, merchant goods!” Your mother offers as he steps into the carriage, towering over you.

“Oh, I know what I want.” He looks down at you, pulling the scarf from his face. In the dim light from the lanterns, his yellowed teeth glint as his eyes trail over you, his face littered with scars and marks from the years.

Another scream rips from your throat as he lunges at you. But your mother pushes you aside, causing you to tumble out of the carriage landing in a puddle of sludge with a painful thud. The cold water seeps through your dress and undergarments as you stay frozen. Around you the troop of bandits are slaying your escort, men falling lifelessly into the mire. All you can see are the silhouettes struggling in the carriage before the lantern is knocked down.

With horror, stuck in the mud, you listen to the blood-curdling scream as your mother is murdered. The sound of the blade piercing through her dress, skin, and bones haunting you before the bandit turns out of the carriage to find you.

In vain, you try to crawl away and out of the mud. But you let out a cry when you put your palm down on the road, snapping your wrist close to your chest as you rub the skin. Everything hurts, everything. Your heart, your hips, and your hands all sing with pain as the bandit grabs at your hair and yanks you back. A sharp cry leaves your lips from the pain as he drags you close with a sick look on his pasty face, his blade pushed against your throat. One slice and you’d be done for.

“Please! Please! I’m too young!” You cry, begging at the final chance of life. Tears fall from your eyes, mixing with rain on your cheeks. And you wonder if maybe you should perish, joining your mother in the afterlife. Even hell sounds better than this misery as you wait for him to inflict pain.

But it doesn’t come, instead, something squelches and cracks. Warm liquid spray onto your face before the bandit drops you, his body crumpling to the ground beside you. Finally, peeling your eyes open another scream tears from your throat as you look at the headless body, his blood being washed from your face with the rain.

You do not look at your savior as you stare at the bandit. Another scream threatens to spill out when the head is dropped mere feet from you. Whatever nightmare this is, you hope and pray you will wake from it soon. Back with your mother alive and the sun shining down on you.

Lightning dances across the sky again, the light strikes and blinds your eyes. The deep red velvet of your dress is ruined by the rain and mud. Your cries are drowned out by the roar of the thunder as you shake from the cold.

In a mere moment, all you had known, the world that had been promised for you had been torn from your trembling hands. God had abandoned you as quickly as the sun had abandoned the sky. You are plagued by the darkness as your mother and escort are delivered from this life to the next.

Then warmth floods in your arm as a man in black armor sinks to your level, his knee digging into the mire. You cannot see his face, the intricate design of his helmet somehow scares you more than you already are. The skull helmet shines as lightning brightens the sky momentarily before he pulls up his visor and stares at you with concern. His nose and mouth are covered with a black cloth, but his eyes are aflame in the darkness. Only softening when they see how helpless you are as you shrink away from him.

Your savior.

“Can you stand?” He asks over the wind. You shake your head, still frozen in place as he stands. You do not know this man, this knight is not one of your own. In this moment, you can only hope he is truly an ally and not a foe.

The knight towers above you, his stature tall and broad, calling to his companion for aid. Another knight in the same dark armor joins you with the reins of a horse in his hand. You catch sight of a crest on the shaffron of the creature, but you do not recognize the marks.

“Help her on while I set the beasts free.” The knight orders his companion. You tremble as the smaller knight wraps an arm around your back and another on your stomach before pulling you up from the mud. It splashes when you stand and struggle to walk, your knees threatening to buckle as he leads you to the mare.

Slowly, you use what strength you have left to mount the horse. Wincing when he pushes you up and your dress tears along the side seams. It’s ornate, not meant for riding a horse, especially since you are not sitting side-saddle. If you were not in such a ruined state of mind, you would’ve been humiliated by your stockings and underskirt showing. But you can only think of how you were still breathing, damp air still clinging to your lungs.

You turn your head and watch as your horses that had not been killed are set loose, turning and running into the deep, wild forest before the tall knight returns to you and his horse. In his hand, he holds a torn piece of the carriage curtain and throws it over your lap to warm you, your cloak doing nothing to fight against the rain and cold.

When he mounts the horse, saddling behind you, reality finally dawns on you. They’re taking you away. You’re being taken away by strangers, away from your escort, your mother, your life!

“No, no. Please, I can’t leave her! Don’t take me away from her!” You twist to look at the knight, pounding your fists into the metal of his chest plate. Wincing with every hit as your right wrist continues to sting. “Please! She’s my mother! She’s a baroness, a lady, a woman of God, she deserves a burial!”

“There is nothing we can do for her.” He states, flipping his visor down to cover his face again. And when you try to push off the horse, his arms cage you in as he picks up the reigns. “And if I leave you here, you’ll meet the same fate as her. There’s nothing around for miles. You’ll starve, or be eaten by wolves, or killed when the rest of the bandits come looking for their brothers.”

“I won’t leave her!” You cry again, but your pleas fall on deaf ears as he orders the horse to move. “Mother! Mother!”

With grief, you watch as the carriage, cart, and bodies disappear behind you. The forest surrounds you and blocks your view as the knight and his companion abandon the road. With a steady pace, they traveled through the dark thicket, relying on the silvers of lightning as their only source of light.

When the rain ceases, night has fallen over the land. And with the full moon peeking out of the clouds over you, the horses tread to a halt. Your body is aching when the knight dismounts, his boots heavily stomping against the damp grass. He offers a gauntlet hand out for you to take, and just as slowly as you mounted the horse, you dismount.

“We’ll camp here for the night. By twilight tomorrow we’ll reach Tharn Castle.” You blink and furrow your brows. How far had your escort strayed from the main road and their destination while you had slept? The castle's name doesn’t even sound familiar to you as the knight unloads his horse, and to your right, his companion does the same.

“John, find some wood. This one’s teeth were chattering the whole ride.” He remarks, pointing to you. You had concluded that this knight was the leader, he’d only given orders to the shorter one and had directed the party through the forest. Whoever he is, he demands respect and attention from his presence alone.

You stand unsure, your face numb from crying as they set up camp. The tall knight unrolls his bundle, laying the ragged blanket down on the grass. “Sit,” He orders you, before turning to sift through his pack. You sink onto the thick fabric, still shivering as John prepares a fire for your camp. Slowly, your senses calm down, grief numb in your veins as you watch the two work.

When the fire is crackling happily, embers sparking and jumping, John begins to pull off his helmet and gauntlets. He shakes out his hair and you note how peculiar the cut is. You wonder if you had completely fallen into a crueler, strange world that is steeped with death and knights in black armor.

“So, you gonna tell us your name, lassie?” John speaks up as the other knight prepares food. “Or say anything to us?”

“John, she just witnessed a horrid tragedy.” The knight says warningly, glancing over at you. “I don’t think she’ll say much unless we force her.”

“Aye, you’re probably right, Simon. Sorry, lassie.” Simon, that was the name of your savior and captor. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to scream at him or thank him.

A wolf howls deep in the woods and startles you back into attention. They both notice how you jerk back to caution, watching as you wince. The sharp pain in your wrist has only gotten worse with time.

“Let me see it,” Simon orders you, pulling bandages from his pack. When you hesitate, he rolls his dark eyes. “I won’t bite.”

You relent, stretching out your wrist for him to see in the gleam of the firelight. Deep, purple bruises have bloomed along your skin and are burrowing deep below, aching to the bone.

“It’s not broken, it’ll mend soon.” He tells you, his gloved thumb runs over the skin and pushes your sleeve up further. You watch as he slowly wraps the bandage around, pulling it tight and firm before tying it. “Try not to put pressure on it until the bruises fade.”

You nod, still unable to speak to either of them as he moves away and back to the rations of food. He offers you a slice of bread, but after the horrors you’d witnessed in the hours prior, your appetite is gone. Buried deep in the pits of your stomach that bubbled with sick.

“If you’re not going to eat, try and rest. We’ve got a long ride ahead of us and you need all your strength after today.” Simon encourages as he stands, wrapping up the remaining bread and putting it back into his pack.

“What about the wolves?” You quietly ask, your voice wavering as the sound of distant howls fills the night. John snorts from his side of the campfire, quickly glancing down when Simon glares at him.

“They don’t like fire.” He tells you, but his sword stays in its sheath on his hip for a quick draw. “And after this afternoon, you should know that you’re safe with us. No harm will come to you in our care.”

Cautiously your eyes wander over the camp as you shift down onto the blanket. Simon has stalked to the edge of the camp, looking out into the forest and John is watching you as if you might spring away. The rough fabric digs into your skin and dress as you lay down, but it is better than the cold grass. You are too tired to complain about how uncomfortable you are, and it scares you that just a day before you would have.

It’s cruel how time works. How quickly the sun rising and setting destroys one’s whole world. This morning you had awoke a lady with the world offered on a silver platter, you were ready to be married to the Prince, and to give a proper farewell to your mother.

Now your fate was in the hands of the men who’d found you and whatever waited behind the stone walls of Tharn Castle.

taglist @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @ghostlythots

#call of duty #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley #cod mw22 #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #medieval!ghost #medieval au #knight!ghost #knight au #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost mw2 #ivy and iron thorns series #ivy and iron thorns

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