#jack lowden writing

[itsderelict]

❤ JUST SIBLING THINGS ❤ with River and Patrice (Slow Horses, S04)

[too-many-rooks]

I haven't read the books but. this is some absolute sibling behaviour.

[annaelizabethhenry1]

Echoes from the Past

Summary: River visits his grandfather post season four at the care home. The visits conjure memories of River’s childhood and teen years as he grapples with his grandfather’s declining mental health and how once he’s gone he’ll have no one left. Warning – spoilers for all four seasons!

There’s a certain slant of light On winter afternoons, That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes, Heavenly hurt it gives us, We can find no scar, But internal difference Where the meanings are. None may teach it anything, ‘Tis the seal, despair, - An imperial affliction Sent us of the air When it comes, the landscape listens. Shadows hold their breath; When it goes, ‘tis like the distance On the look of death.

Emily Dickinson

Chapter One

The car’s tires crunched to a halt on the gravel drive. River shut the car off and stared into the distance. The steel grey sky cast a gloom over the care home’s edifice in a way River hadn’t noticed on his previous visits.

River’s thoughts swirled back to a different time before he ended up at Sough House – he remembered a conversation in his grandfather’s study. One where his grandfather jokingly called care homes ‘God’s waiting room’ and how he insisted if he ever needed one he’d rather be dead. At the time there was no need for one and River reassured his grandfather he’d never allow it. But now…needs must…River sighed and forced himself from the car.

He braced the cold February afternoon and turned up the collar on his green corduroy coat up as he jogged the length of the path to the front door, pushing it open, he was greeted by warmth and chatter – and the slamming of a tray along with the clatter of dishes and cutlery. River recognized his grandfather’s raised voice and almost turned back around.

No, no I can do this…he and Nan raised me…I owe him no matter how hard.

Entering the wood panelled dining hall where other elderly residents were gathered for lunch, River spotted his grandfather off to the side at a small table near the fireplace causing a scene.

An orderly busied himself with cleaning the mess on the floor while two women – Sylvie, who River already knew was trying to soothe David Cartwright and while another petite woman attempted to tidy him up after some of the food had landed on his sweater.

“Stop! I’m not a baby!” David shouted, swatting at the smaller woman.

“Granddad, don’t get handsy with the ladies,” River said with a forced half smile and a raised brow, trying to lighten the situation.

“River take me home! These harpies are treating me like I’m an invalid!” he shouted, then stood up, grabbed his cane and pushed past them, hobbling away.

“Granddad you know I can’t…” River went to grab him.

“No leave him be,” the petite woman said.

“But…”

“It’s best to let him settle down. I’m Orla by the way, you’re the grandson?” she asked offering her hand with a kind smile.

Orla had warm, but sharp green eyes that reminded him of his grandmother, Rose. Freckles sprinkled the bridge of her nose and cheeks and red curls bounced, just reaching her shoulders. River had never seen her before today.

“Yes, River Cartwright. Nice to meet you,” River shook her hand and smiled back.

“I’ve just been brought on board with recreation at the home. Seems we have some very sharp retirees here who need more challenging tasks to occupy them.”

River knew that all the employees were specially vetted and aware that the bulk of the residents were former service or higher ups in government with a few military veterans sprinkled in for good measure.

“Yes, this lot aren’t your run of the mill pensioners,” River said wryly.

“I look forward to the challenge. I’m glad you’re here though as we have been having trouble with your grandfather. I was curious to know a bit more about him to see if I could find a way to reach out to him.”

River flushed, wondering how many other times his grandfather, the OB or the Old Bastard to many, threw a tantrum making more work for the staff here. “I’m so sorry he’s been…difficult. I know he’d rather be home, but it’s just not safe for him and I live in London and can’t commute here all the time…” River rambled.

Orla put a hand on River’s arm, “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. He does have dementia and that is bound to make him act out. The staff understand. Why don’t you come to my office? We can have some tea and chat.”

Orla led River through the large and very windowed recreation room where some staff were setting up for what appeared to be arts and crafts. There was a small side door that went down a narrow passage and onto hallway with a number of highly polished doors. Orla pushed one open and led River into a cheerful room filled with small potted plants, a well-organized desk and a low bookcase filled with books and what appeared to be files.

“Tea or coffee? I have a fresh lemon drizzle loaf from home – happy to share.”

“Whichever is easier for you. Uh, yeah, sure, thanks.”

Orla chuckled. “You’re making it too easy for me.” She switched on the kettle on top of the bookcase. “Have a seat. Let me go find a knife for the cake and some milk. Make yourself comfortable.”

She handed River a pamphlet about coping with the transition to a care home for family members as she breezed out. River was tempted to chuck it into the bin, but thought the better of it as she was just being nice. Everyone always was so damn nice, which made it harder somehow. He wanted to shout at someone as if that would make him feel better about the situation. Demand to see someone in charge and lodge complaints as that would be easier than someone smiling and handing him a slice of his favourite cake.

River sat back in chair, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He thought back to the time when he was almost seven and he had that first slice of lemon drizzle loaf in his grandparents’ kitchen.

It was a rare sunny afternoon in late winter when River’s mother, Isobel knocked on the front door of a large stone house in the countryside. River was in awe by the size of it. He had mainly lived in small flats and tiny houses with his mother and whomever her current boyfriends were at the time. This was like a palace to him.

“Mum, is this like a castle?”

His mother laughed. “God no. It’s just a house. I hope they’re home. I can’t keep Pedro waiting we have tickets to Spain.”

As if on cue he honked his horn from the car in the drive. Isobel rang the doorbell again and knocked on the door.

River stood silently, freezing in a jacket that wasn’t suited to the current weather. He clutched his rucksack on his shoulder and clung to his bunny, Mr. Hoppinheimer. “Mum, where are we going?”

“You’re going to stay here with your grandparents. They’ll look after you.”

Finally, the door opened and a stunned David Cartwright appeared. “Isobel?”

“Yes, father. I’m rather in a hurry. This is River. Here are his things. I’ve got to go.”

“What? You can’t leave him here. Isobel, come inside. What’s going on – are you in trouble?” David asked, his features etched with disbelief and his eyes wildly going between his daughter and the blonde little boy with big, sad blue eyes looking up at him. They reminded David of a favourite spaniel he had as a boy growing up that he loved.

“Father I don’t have time! Pedro is waiting,” Isobel pointed to the car in the drive.

“Sod Pedro, he can wait. You can’t just leave him here like this Isobel. We never met him.”

“Who? Pedro?” Isobel asked.

“No, you bloody idiot – River.”

River shrunk back to the side of the doorstep. He learned from living with his mum how important it was to fade into the background when necessary. It was key to not being yelled at or getting in the way.

“What’s going on?” Rose asked stepping out into the cold, pulling her cardigan tighter around herself to shield her from the brisk wind despite the bright sun. “Isobel, I’m surprised you’re here. Where’s River?” Rose searched and finally found him almost hiding behind a potted evergreen perched to the side of the front door. She bent down and smiled at him as he just stared back. “Oh, love you must be freezing,” she touched his shoulder and nudged him into the warmth of the large stone house as he clung to his bunny and rucksack.

“Mum, I don’t have time for you to coo and coddle over him because it’s a bit chilly out here. I’ve got to go,” Isobel said coming into the foyer.

David came in as well. “You can’t expect us to take him just like that Isobel. Where are you going? What’s going on?”

“Yes, I can and I’m off to Spain. Once I get settled I’ll send you my address.”

“Spain? What if he gets sick or something,” David asked.

“You raised me and managed to keep me alive. I suspect you’ll do just fine – thanks – ta!”

“Love, wait! Don’t you want to say goodbye properly to River?” Rose asked. She already had River in a sideways hug, ruffling his hair.

Isobel hesitated and went back to the doorstep to retrieve a luggage that she deposited in the foyer. “These are the rest of his things. He’s no bother, he’s usually quiet except when he’s got a million questions about something. Be good and don’t cause any trouble for your grandparents,” Isobel said and blew River a kiss.

Rose looked over at River who didn’t bat an eye or show any emotion at her leaving him. “David do something!” she hissed.

“What? She always was so out of control. I told you that artistic streak would lead to nothing good. We should never have indulged it.” He shut the door.

Rose sighed. “River dear, I’m grandma Rose, but you can call me Nan if you like. I’ve sent you cards and gifts – I do hope they made their way to you.”

River nodded and held up his bunny.

“Oh, excellent love, you still have it from a few Easter’s ago,” she said smiling but her eyes welled with tears. “David take his luggage and rucksack up to the guest room. You look hungry sweetheart – let me take you to the kitchen. Would you like some cake?”

“It’s not my birthday,” River finally uttered something.

“No love, I know that.”

“Is it your birthday?”

“No, you don’t just have cake on birthdays.”

“Oh.”

Rose looked to David.

“Come along dear, bring your bunny. Does he have a name?”

“Yes, Mr. Hoppinheimer.”

“Really, love,” Rose said ushering him into a warmer room still. There were lovely smells and lots of sunlight.

Rose had him sit down at the small table while she busied herself about the kitchen. She put the kettle on, went into a cupboard pulling out dishes and things. River just sat there with his bunny on his lap watching. Rose finally put dishes down on the table and a small mug that had a woodland scene on it.

“This was your mum’s when she was little. It’s a scene from Beatrix Potter.”

River looked at it curiously seeing a rabbit dressed in a coat. “Why is he wearing a jacket?”

“It’s Peter Rabbit. He’s a character from her books. Do not know them?”

“No.”

“Oh, I see, well don’t worry we have the books here.”

“Rose, a moment, please,” David stood on the cusp of the kitchen.

She nodded and joined him. “What?”

“The boy hardly has anything in his luggage. It’s appalling Rose,” he whispered.

“He seems scared. I’m worried how she’s been living…what if the men in her life…”

“Rose, don’t…”

“He’s ours now, David. She’s never taking him back. I won’t allow it. Look how sweet and quiet he is…”

David rubbed her shoulder. “Yes of course. He stays. He’s better off.”

The kettle whistled and River jumped. “What’s that? Is something wrong?”

“No, love – it’s just the kettle is boiling, which means it’s time for tea or in your case hot chocolate!”

“What’s hot chocolate? Is it like when a candy bar melts?”

“No, its special warm powdered chocolate. I trust you’ll like it.”

“So young man, do you have any interests? Dinosaurs, airplanes, horses, trains or even cars?” David asked.

River shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Rose put a slice of lemon drizzle cake on River’s plate and filled his little mug with hot chocolate and then dispensed tea and cake for herself and David.

“Go ahead, have some cake, love,” Rose urged.

River picked up the slice and sniffed it. It smelt like lemons and sugar. When he bit into the slice it was like heaven. He never tasted anything so wonderful and he smiled over at his Nan and she smiled back at him.

The reverie was broken when Orla fluttered back in cheerfully with a knife and little carton of milk. “Sorry that took longer than I hoped, it’s tough to get the elevator down to the kitchens at meal times, I had forgotten that since I’m new.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“You looked like you were a million miles away,” she said as she opened a box of tea.

“Yeah, well…it’s not easy seeing granddad here. I promised him once I’d never do this.”

“The hard reality of caring for someone in his condition and balancing your own life tends to make these situations impossible,” Orla said as she prepared tea.

River sighed. Orla was right. It was unsafe for him to be alone, especially given how confused he became, but there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot going on in his life at the moment that he maybe couldn’t have made this work. Slough House wasn’t buzzing with anything important to do. As to his personal life that was non-existent. Sure, he’d love to have what other normal people had, but he found it so difficult to connect. River had spent too many years alone in the safe little bubble his grandparents had created for him after he’d been dropped off. River’s unique situation in life always set him apart from his peers and made him feel unwelcome as he didn’t exactly fit. No one else at school was raised by their grandparents, but even before that when he was with his mum, they moved around so much he never had a chance to make friends then either.

“Thanks,” River said almost shyly, “What is it I could help with to make things better for him?”

“Well, Sylvie tells me you do visit often, which is great, but it doesn’t seem to help his mood.”

“Yeah, that’s because he’s angry at me for putting him here.”

“Milk first?”

“Umm, sure.”

“You really are the least particular person I’ve met,” Orla said with a smile.

River chuckled. “I learned early in life what actually matters, and how your milk goes in isn’t one of them.”

“I’ve seen that point hotly debated in the dining room here, so I disagree.”

Orla sliced some cake and handed River a small paper plate and a mug of tea.

“Thanks. I do want to help my grandfather, he’s just very stubborn.”

“Can I ask – what did he do before he retired? I know he’s former service – someone mentioned you are also in the service.”

“Yes, I am service, too. When granddad retired he was first desk,” River said feeling that he just misrepresented himself. Slough House wasn’t service in anyone else’s mind at the Park.

Orla’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, he was very important…okay…no wonder he feels helpless here.”

“It’s also why he has to be here. He knows too much.”

Orla nodded. “Of course. Let me have a think on this and see if we can come up with something that makes him feel more useful and engaged.”

“I’d appreciate that, thanks,” River said.

About fifteen minutes later after tea and cake, River made his way to his grandfather’s room in the east wing of the care home. He found him sitting in the leather chair near the window, just staring blankly out into the front garden. He knocked and said, “Granddad, how are you?” River walked over and crouched next to the chair.

His grandfather looked over at him blankly. “I told you, I don’t want any lunch – it’s bland!”

River furrowed his brow and frowned. “Granddad, it’s River. I don’t work here, I’m your grandson,” he touched his arm and tried to rub it and forced a smile.

“Go away! I don’t have a grandson,” David Cartwright shouted, pulling away from River’s touch.

River bit his lower lip and tried to contain himself. He knew it wasn’t his grandfather’s fault he couldn’t remember, but sometimes River did wonder if he did remember and just acted like he didn’t because he wanted to punish River for leaving him in a care home. There were times when David was very lucid and they would share a memory or a story from his work days. Maybe it wasn’t an act and he wasn’t torturing River on purpose. He just felt so helpless when his granddad looked through him. The doctor told him there would come a point where David would not remember River anymore. It’s not like he didn’t already know that, but to hear it from someone in an official medical way made it all the more final.

Read Chapter Two here

[denaliwrites]

f i c m a s t e r l i s t

p o l i c i e s (please read before making requests!)

b a d s a m a r i t a n The Best of You, Honey, Belongs to Me Blackthorn Cover Myself in the Ashes of You Dumb Ways To Die Enough of You to Dull the Pain (18+) Hellbent Looking For A Godsend Hit Me With Your Best Shot I Got This Feeling On A Summer Day (18+) I'm Gooey in the Middle Baby Let Me Bake In His Eyes A Flaming Glow Intrigued and Afraid Keep You Like An Oath (18+) Killing Me Softly My Baby Shot Me Down (18+) Not Much Between Despair and Ecstasy (18+) Only Touch That Gets Me Melting (18+) Run Rabbit Run (18+) Say My Name Send a Thousand Kings Away Shia Surprise Something Good to Celebrate Stop, Look and Listen, It's Halloween! Taste of a Poison Paradise Trust in Me, Just in Me With Your Scars and Your Lonely Heart Your Body's a Secret Girl and You're About to Spill It (18+)

t h e b o y s Watch That Butcher Burn

b r o a d c h u r c h Always Leave Me With a Hungry Heart Am I Doing This Right? An Art to Life's Distractions Beating Like A Kick Drum Girls Like Girls Like Boys Do It's Been a Long, Long Time Love's Perfect Ache Now and Again We Try to Just Stay Alive Regale You With A Gourd-geous Tale Say You'll Remember Me Say You'll Remember Me (Denali's Version) Tell Me It's A Nightmare What My Heart Was Worth

d o c t o r w h o Cuddle, Meet Puddle Cute Things Don't Blink (Part 1) Don't Turn Your Back (Part 2) Don't Look Away (Part 3) Dreams See Us Through (Part 4) Hate the Feeling of Falling Have a Holly Jolly Christmas Horrible Things Isn't That Wizard It's How I'm Made Let Me Come Home Little Creepy House Love Letters On the Brave Shit The Origin of (Love Bug) Species What Beautiful Things I'll Wear When the Crypt Doors Creak You Know That I Would Jump Too

d u c k t a l e s Tales of Daring

g o o d o m e n s All I Want For Christmas Aziraphale's Favorite Author Dance on a Tightrope of Weird Free as My Hair His Love is All in Me How the Wine Plays Tricks on My Tongue Lockdown Blues Making Biscuits My Heart's a Stereo Naked in That Garden (18+) Out There Making DuckTales Pickin' Up the Pieces of the Mess You Made Road to Hell Something Meaty For The Main Course Step Too Far Tongue Tied Your Love is Holy (18+)

f a l l o f t h e h o u s e o f u s h e r Tomorrow I Shall Be Fetterless (18+)

f r i g h t n i g h t Emptiness to Melody Everybody Scream in Our Town of Halloween Fixed Up to the Nines Howl Like an Animal in the Darkness I'm So Hot I'd Fuck Myself (18+) I'm Starvin', Darlin', Let Me Put My Lips to Somethin' Late Night Devil Put Your Hands On Me (18+) Make Me Glow Night of Long Fangs (18+) Parade of Dancing Skeletons Talk So Pretty (18+) Who Are You Supposed To Be, Criss Angel? (18+)

h a u n t i n g o f b l y m a n o r ???

j u r a s s i c p a r k / w o r l d Best Behavior The Future Ex Mrs. Malcolm

p r o d i g a l s o n But Then My Stupid Phone Beeps Never Fallen From Quite This High Office Supplies Rude Boy They are the Hunters, We are the Foxes Trigger Happy With a Sense of Poise (18+)

s l o w h o r s e s Imposing Figure Inappropriate

[daydreamgoddess14]

Guilty as Sin

Yes, I know I'm supposed to be doing the last (? maybe? Not sure...) chapter of First Impressions but first I couldn't get this out of my brain because I swear I literally think about this man every minute of the day. Did you know he can sing? Sweet jesus, no one show me proof, I guarantee it will finish me off. Anyway, here's a little quickie (hehe 😏) cos gawd knows this fandom needs a lot a lot a lot more River and I will happily carry that burden 😂

River Cartwright/OFC (you/reader insert, no use of Y/N, L/N). Lots of smutty smut and jealousy, River feeling feelings, language warning. Mature rating.

You're undercover and it turns out River is incredibly jealous.

Without further adooooo...

********

You take another long drink, watching him as he watches you. His eyes haven't left you for what feels like hours. It has been hours, this back and forth, push and pull. It's a game you both so enjoy. The noise of the bar is growing as the night goes on, colleagues leaving and being replaced by the early doors club, then those replaced by students and the few in it for the night. You're not sure where you fall just yet, though it's clear enough that he’s struggling to keep his hands off you, so the night will not go on forever. Your knees bump together under the table, and he takes the opportunity to put a hand at the hem of your dress, lightly stroking your thigh. It's not your usual get-up. You've made an effort, and it's paying off beautifully. His eyes track down your throat and to the very deep neckline of the dress, held precariously in place with the best tit tape Boots had to offer. They look pretty fantastic if you said so yourself. A good handful for someone with good hands, which he had. With your empty glass on the table, you put a firm hand on his thigh. 

“Shall we move somewhere… quieter?” You suggest, your voice low and leading. He lights up like a Christmas tree, trying (and failing) to hide his eagerness. 

“Yeah, yeah, we should. My place?” He asks. You laugh - not unkindly or at him.

“No, not just yet. We're having so much fun, aren't we?” 

“Hmm, hard to argue that point. I'm sure I can wait a little longer. Some privacy wouldn't go amiss, though.” You slip from the stool, giving him a perfect glimpse down the front of your dress, and reach for his hand. If you remember correctly, this lovely bar has a small snug. A handful of more intimate tables with high booth walls and table service. Drinks are on him, after all, it'd be rude not to. His hand is possessive on the small of your back while he talks with the waitress. She tells him it's just a short wait, and that's fine. The wine has made you a little flushed and giddy, so you lean into him and let his warm body wrap around you. His hands shamelessly roam your body, groping and squeezing your bum and hips. He leans down to place a hot, wet kiss on your neck. His body crowds you against the hostess table, and you're not sure he actually will wait any longer.

“I'm just going to the bathroom while they get us a table,” you tell him quietly, your hand deliberately brushing across the front of his chinos. Away from the drinks and his heady aftershave, you can take a breath in the corridor to the bathrooms. 

In the dark, a body pulls you against their chest, a tight grip on your hip. 

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?”

“I've got him right where we want him, River, what the hell are you doing?!” You wrestle from his grasp and pull him to the very end of the corridor and away from potential passers-by. 

“He's all over you like a rash!”

“Which is exactly my plan,” you tell him. He's got you backed against the wall, and you've gone from being in complete control of the mark you've been flirting with all night to being utterly at River's mercy instead. He's never like this. Petulant? Always. Occasionally irrational and more often than not, sarcastic, but whatever this is, it's new. 

“Is it turning you on?” He demands to know. 

“Him? Or this?” You snap. You're half wondering if he can tell the difference between you faking it in the bar and whatever you're feeling now. Can he feel your heart pounding? Does he know your thighs are clenching desperately at nothing, aching for his touch? This attraction has been brewing between you for a while, glances that linger just long enough to suggest there could be more between you, but he's never made a move, and so neither have you. 

“Do you think you're turning him on?” He asks quietly, his eyes on your lips, you couldn’t resist the deep luxurious red lipstick you spotted in Boots while hunting for the tit tape.

“I know I am. I could have him on his knees for me before the night's out.” At that, he bites back a groan, bruising your hip with his tight hold. He’s holding you so closely it’s like he’s breathing life into you. And then just as it dawns on you, you also realise that you've been gone too long and you’re actually supposed to be working. “Are you jealous, Cartwright?”

“No.” Came the strained reply in the crook of your neck. You place a gentle hand on his chest and push him back a little, his lips graze the corner of your mouth as he moves. 

“I need to get back out there and finish this.” His hand catches yours as you leave, fingertips holding on until the last moment. It's knocked you for six, the intensity of his gaze and the meaning behind his sudden temper. He may have denied it, but surely you can't have imagined it all?

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss

How I long for our trysts

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

“Thought you'd gotten lost,” the mark said as you approached the table. 

“Just needed a few moments alone.” You tease. His eyes light up, and sure, if it's going to make your life easier, then he can go ahead and believe that you've just been touching yourself in the bathroom. 

“That so?” You're momentarily distracted by River passing your table to sit at the one behind. “You couldn't resist a little early playtime, huh?” You smile coyly, letting him do most of the talking - and draw his own assumptions - rather than confirming anything. “Gonna be lucky if we make it to mine,” he was saying, “I bet you love the thought of getting caught.” From this distance you could see the muscle in River’s jaw clench. The mark leaned forward but did nothing to lower his voice, “I'm gonna fuck you so good you forget your own name.” Holding his gaze, you leaned in as well, 

“Dare you.” At the table behind, you're sure you heard knuckles cracking. “Let's get out of here,” you tell the mark suddenly. It's cold outside as you lead the mark to the alley beside the bar. He presses you against the wall and it feels completely alien compared to when River did the same thing barely an hour before. He kisses you and you play along. While he's distracted and trying to grope your breasts over the top of the dress, you're in his pocket doing your job. A key card and the slip of paper you watched an aide pass him hours ago. Bingo. You push him off you quickly and turn away, faking a sudden bout of drunken sickness. You retch and moan, a hand out behind you to stop him getting closer. As if he would.

“Oh gross, forget it love, you're not that fit.” He leaves, disgusted and you count to twenty before standing straight and putting the loot in your bag. You hadn't seen River follow you out of the bar, it makes you wonder if your backup has deserted you. Just as you reach the street, a body blocks your path. “I knew you were too fuckin’ good to be true.” The mark sneered, forcing you to take a couple of steps back and away from the people leaving the bar. 

“You came back!” You coo, reaching for his lapel. “I’m feeling loads better.”

“Games up, bitch. Give it back, or I beat the shit out of you.”

“But we were getting along so nicely,” you pout, pushing the boat out in one last opportunity to win him back over. He's not keen to play along this time and his hand painfully grabs the top of your arm. His other hand reaches for the split in your dress and his rough fingers find the top of your thigh. You try to scream out but your voice catches in your throat in fear.

“I knew you were all fuckin’ talk, filthy slut.” He slaps you across the cheek and the stinging pain is immediate, it makes you feral with anger. You wriggle and wrestle and try to stamp on his feet, just to get a bit of movement away from him, and finally you're able to get out of his grip far enough to knee him in the balls. He crumples forward in pain. His arm stretches out to pull you back but behind you, another arm pulls you away from him and shoves you into the front seat of a car. River's car. It seems to take an age to get the car into gear and moving but luckily the mark is still bent over in agony. A few bystanders checking on him. Once you’re a safe enough distance away, you feel River watching you. The skirt of your dress has twisted and ridden up in the hurry to get into the car, exposing more of your legs and from the gritted teeth and deep swallow, you can tell he’s noticed. You straighten out in the seat and pop down the sun visor, your cheek is still a little pink but it’s hard to tell from the streetlights. The lipstick is still perfectly in place though.

“Where'd you go? I thought you’d left.”

“I wouldn’t have left. I saw him wink at one of his drongo mates as you left so I got out just ahead of you to get the car. Figured you’d need to act fast.”

“If you hadn’t turned up when you did-” Your previous bravado has all but abandoned you, leaving you underdressed and vulnerable.

“I know.” He replies quickly, his mouth set in a hard, angry line. “Did he hit you?”

“Slapped me.” You find a bottle of water between your two seats and wonder how long it’s been there before deciding you really don’t care and taking it anyway. He stops for a red light and takes a hand from the wheel to turn your face so he can see. His thumb caresses your cheek for a brief second until the car behind alerts him to the green light. He pulls up at your apartment and you sit in silence watching next door’s cat. You can feel the anger radiating from him, his shoulders tense and his hands white knuckled on the steering wheel at ten and two. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You tell him softly, “thanks for being there tonight.”

“Just doing my job.” 

These fatal fantasies

Giving way to labored breath

Taking all of me

We've already done it in my head

Once you’re alone, you kick your shoes off with such ferocity that the heel dents the cupboard door. You stand in the dark in your small kitchen and pour a nightcap. The window overlooks the small car park and you can see that River’s car hasn’t moved yet. As you move through the flat and pass the front door, you can hear shuffling just outside so you pull the door open.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” You ask, an exact replica of his earlier question. He doesn’t speak, he takes the glass from your hand and finishes the contents. He does attempt to put the glass on the table by the door but it’s too close to the edge and falls, glass shattering. Neither of you takes a scrap of notice, he’s on you before you can say another word, lips claiming yours in a messy kiss. Your hands scramble for purchase on his shoulders while his arms wrap around your waist and lift you enough off the floor that your bare feet are nowhere near the broken glass. He walks you forwards until he can press you into the doorframe. His kiss moves down your neck and he pulls the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders.

“You were right.” He mutters kissing along your collarbone.

“Was I?” You’re not sure how you can be expected to hold a conversation while he’s cupping your breast over your dress and running his thumb over your hardening nipple.

“I am fucking jealous.” Your back arches, pressing your chest to his, silently begging for more. “No one else touches you like that again.”

“Says who?” You challenge him. He kisses you again, a clash of teeth and tongue, a silent reply - a silent promise. His hands run down your body, but unlike the mark who groped aimlessly, River clearly has intention. He pulls at the lightly tied belt holding your dress closed until it’s barely clinging on. He pulls back to see your face, your firm nod of approval and kisses you more softly than he had previously. You can feel the anger and tension evaporating from him. With a final tug, the belt is undone and the dress begins to fall open. When his warm hands are at long last on your bare skin it’s like a green light. You scramble to pull his jacket off, throwing it to the floor closely followed by his shirt. He takes his time peeling the dress from your skin where it’s been held down by the tape and kisses the skin as it’s exposed to him bit by bit. When the dress is pooled at your feet your hands tangle in his hair. He nips at the curve of your breast, your ‘good handful’ dwarfed by his large hands. 

“You were wrong about one thing.” He says suddenly from the valley of your breasts.

“Enlighten me?” You lean back against the doorframe, grateful for the pause but still very distracted by his hands. 

“He wasn’t going to get on his knees for you.” Your eyes widen a little as he disappears from view. You can feel his hot breath against the cotton of your knickers. “Say now, and I’ll stop, and we can forget this ever happened?" 

"I don't want you to stop," you whisper. 

"Good." He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your soaked underwear and pulls them down your legs, then he nudges your legs apart and lifts one to drape it over his shoulder. "So wet," he teases, peppering her inner thighs with kisses. “Is this from him?” He licks a broad stroke through your folds, his nose nestling up against your clit. 

“You, only you-” you manage to reply. You can feel your knees shaking so he puts a firm hand on the hip of your raised leg to hold you steady. His other hand moves to join his determined mouth, he replaces his tongue and fucks you with his fingers, turning his attention to suck your clit.

What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh

Only in my mind?

One slip and falling back into the hedge maze

Oh what a way to die

"Oh f-fucking fuck, Riv," You tangle a hand in his hair, partly to stop him from moving, and partly to keep yourself upright. His fingers, knuckle deep inside you, pump lazily in and out while he savours your taste, wanting to drag out your pleasure for as long as possible. Your dripping cunt aches for release but he doesn’t let up.

"You wanna come for me, love?" He murmurs as you whimper at the loss of his tongue.

"Yes, god yes -" your hips cant towards him, changing the angle so his fingers brush against your g-spot.

“You’re mine?” He asks so quietly you can hardly hear him over the pounding of your heart, he flicks his tongue over your clit, demanding an answer before he continues. 

“Yours, River, please-, fucking arrogant-” Your sentences go half finished once he’s happy with your answer, finally bringing you right to the edge and eagerly letting your cunt contract around his fingers. You’re not sure you can breathe any longer, let alone stand. He rests his head against your thigh as you lean limply into the doorframe. 

“I’m what now?” He asks smugly. He reappears in front of you, an arm around your waist to hold you up.

“Arrogant. Jealous. Annoying as fuck.” 

“Surely I’m not that bad?” He teases, kissing you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and you melt against him. He lifts you with ease, “bedroom?” 

“Down the hall.” You’re about to chastise him for chucking you on the bed so unceremoniously but he’s already making himself very comfortable between your thighs again. 

“River?”

“Not done yet.” You're in pieces again even before you feel the wet slide of his tongue against your clit. He holds you down with one hand as you cant your hips towards him. 

"Fuckkk," you whine, hands desperately gripping the bed sheets. He gives your thigh a bite.

"Hold still," you can feel him smirk against you. It doesn't take much for him to have your legs shaking and you’re grateful to at least be lying down this time. You practically wail his name as you come, he's watching you come down, letting you think he's done with you before he goes back for more. By the time he's crawling up the bed to you, the need to have his skin against yours is sinful. You can barely form full sentences.

"Clothes, more, now". He laughs, a low rumble that you feel against your ribs.

“Hang on.” He rolls off you and grabs something from your bedside. You feel a weird sensation on your inner thigh, and sit up to see exactly what he’s up to now. He looks up with a satisfied smile having literally written mine on your skin. You shake your head in disbelief.

“Green eyed monster really got hold of you, didn’t it? Y’know if you wanted to ask me out, you could have?” You ask.

“I don’t think I realised how strongly I felt til I saw him all over you. Then when we were outside the bathroom, it felt like something changed?”

“C’mere,” You pull him on top of you and after hastily kicking off his jeans, he pushes into you in long, slow strokes, his whole body weighted against yours. After his earlier anger and jealousy, it’s surprisingly intimate and gentle. Your desperate pleas and praise ignites him and he holds you tightly, pressing you into the mattress as he fucks into you deliriously slowly, lewd noises filling the air. Your legs wrap around him, holding him against you. Your walls flutter around him as he makes you come again, sighing his name.

What if the way you hold me

Is actually what's holy?

“Had I known your jealousy was going to lead to this, I probably would have offered to go undercover a long time ago.” You mutter in the dark. You’re fairly sure he’s asleep, his nose is nestled into the crook of your neck, his long body curled around yours. It’s not until his snigger jostles you both that you realise he’s still awake. 

“Maybe I’ll go undercover next time.”

“I’m not sure you’d make a good honeytrap.”

“Rude, I can be pretty.”

“I know. I will rip the eyes out of any woman who so much as looks at you.” You tell him sleepily.

“Oh now I’m definitely signing up next time. Can’t wait to see you get all jealous.” He kisses your neck again as you drift off.

********

[princessmisery666]

I should be writing. I need to get fics finished… instead I’m binging Slow Horses

[miracl3-align3r]

I’m only on the first book of the Slough House series but I guessed what would happen with River learning about his past and family a few episodes ago and I don’t think I’m gonna be mentally alright the rest of this season😞 This shit is heavy this season oh my fucking god

[primadonalover]

♡ Bonjour, my beautiful darlings! ♡

This account - I'm still figuring out what exactly I want to do on this account but I WILL be accepting requests, I'm really excited to hear ideas and get writing!

Rules for requests -

Angst 🖤 Yes but nothing to dark

Smut ❤️ Not really

Fluff 🩷 Uh obviously yes

Character Requests

Bucky Barns

Slow Horses/River Cartwright

Tyler Owens/Glenn Powell

Eddie Munson

Al Pacino

Dunkirk characters

Larry Durrel

Friends/Joey and possibly Chandler

(I will think of more)

About Me - Just a vintage pink girly that loves fashion...and men

[sleevebuscemii]

started slow horses for my darling angel queen olivia cooke and now they’ve shot her in the head two episodes in. fuck off.

[conundrumoftime]

I love that AO3 lets us tag ships and characters, and I love that it lets us use additional-tags for background ships and characters, but sometimes it gives me headaches. Example, one of my own fics:

There are three people in that story. THREE.

So this is my usual thought process on tagging ships in my fic at the moment, although it's more a position I've drifted into and might yet change again rather than any settled firm stance:

Characters with multiple names: If it's some way relevant to the story and AO3 treats the character names differently (as a sub-tag, as a separate tag), I tag both just to be clear. This is a Silmarillion fic in 2nd-age Eregion where Sauron is presenting himself as Annatar and also thinking of himself as 'Annatar' in his own narrative, so: both.

Ships with more than two characters: I have seen people feel very strongly in both directions about whether to tag the component ships of an ot3. What I do is that if the story's just about a, b and c together, I'll only tag a/b/c; but if one of the a/b, b/c, or a/c relationships are important in some way, if there's interactions between them other than smut mechanics, I tag that too. So this story has all the component pairs tagged because there's interactions between all of them; my more recent short Rings of Power Celeborn/Galadriel/Sauron one only has the 3-person ship tagged.

Ship tags vs. adding a ship in the additional tags: my usual approach here is that if the ship is in the fic and is important to it in some way, it's in the main ship tags; if it's there but not really a significant part of the story I put it in 'additional tags', so it won't turn up if someone's searching for that ship but it's there just in case someone really wants to know it's there. (Also mentioning this here because not everyone knows this trick: if you want to filter AO3 for fics with only your preferred ship in them, filter for that ship and then add 'otp:true' in the 'Search within results' box.)

Ship order: I know that some people do this as a 'ranking in order of importance to the story' thing when there's multiple ships in the same fic, but I usually don't because this gets too subjective.

None of this is formal AO3 Rules obviously or me telling anyone else what to do; just my approach on all this because it came up a couple of times talking with writer friends about tagging and ships recently

[itsderelict]

I'm so deeply in love with River Cartwright and Jack Lowden. It's a problem.

[annaelizabethhenry1]

Echoes from the Past - Chapter 3

Apologies for the long delay in posting this chapter, but the holidays and end of year work stuff was such a huge time drain. Hope the wait was worth it! If you've missed the earlier chapters you can find chapter one here

Chapter Three

All hushed and still within the house Without – all wind and driving rain But something whispers to my mind Through rain and through wailing wind                                             Never again Never again? Why not again? Memory has power as real as thine                                                  - Emily Brontë

David Cartwright woke early, blinking and attempting to bring the dim room into focus. He reached over to his left to grab his glasses off the nightstand. Finally, after putting them on things came into view. His heart sank. This wasn’t home. Yes, there was a wardrobe of his things and his favourite slippers were on the floor next to this bed, but this was an institution. A place to tuck away a problem you didn’t want to deal with anymore. Sighing, he reached for the picture frame on the night table. It was of him and River taken a few years ago almost around the time he began his training for MI-5. Rose would’ve been proud, but concerned. She always chided David for training River since he was a boy, but he couldn’t help it. They boy was sharp and was good at being stealthy, all qualities he’d need to be successful.

Smiling, David thought back to around the time River’s tenth birthday. While he couldn’t remember a damn thing from yesterday, he still remembered things like this so vividly. How the day was unseasonably warm for late April and how bright the sun shone on their walk to the village to pick up some things for Rose and the cake she was baking especially for River’s birthday in a couple of days.

“So young man, you’re going to hit double digits soon. Excited?”

River nodded and smiled. “Yeah, it’s so cool. Next thing you know I’ll be old enough to drive!”

“Ha! That’s not for a while, my boy. Though if you get a good grade on that maths test this week maybe I’ll let you sit in the driver’s seat to see how it feels and I can explain all the levers and knobs.”

“Really?” River asked excited at the prospect of feeling more grown-up.

“Yes, really.”

Once at the market, David nudged River, “What did I teach you?”

“Take the whole space in. Notice everything, don’t have tunnel vision,” River answered.

“Excellent. What have you noticed so far?”

“There’s a man over there stealing grapes by eating them to the left. Ms. Hamilton is busy gossiping at the register to our neighbour Mrs. Farley and it looks like the rolls in the bin are leftovers from yesterday since there are hardly any left.”

“Very good.  Anything else?”

“The butcher is chatting up that young woman with the little girl in the trolley.”

“Perfect!” David said smiling brightly. 

They picked up the groceries from the shop and came in through the side door nearest the stairs and heard Rose talking to someone.

“Rose? We’re back.”

“Oh, excellent, David. There’s a special guest in the kitchen for River.”

River looked at his grandfather, David shrugged.

They entered the kitchen together to find Isobel sitting at the table which caused his heart to sink. He hoped she wasn’t here to take River away. He had promised Rose he’d never allow it, but then he wasn’t yet attached to the boy. David loved River with every fibre of his being. River was his whole world along with Rose.

“River! You’re so tall!” Isobel said smiling and looking up at him from her chair.

River just stood there with a confused look on his face.

Isobel got up and went over to him to give him a hug which he didn’t fully return. David could tell River was wary, as well he should be under the circumstances. She might be his daughter, but he was disappointed with her as a mother. It took full year for them to bring River around, make him feel comfortable and safe and loved. Now she decided to show up unannounced and make a muck of things. 

David looked to Rose who shot him a worried look.

“Yes, well boys do shoot up when they’re growing, Isobel. It’s been three years,” David said.

“I know. How’s my chap?”

“Fine.” River said shyly avoiding his mother’s eyes.

“Well that’s not the welcome I expected.”

David and Rose looked at each other again knowingly.

“Sorry, mum. I…wasn’t expecting you.”

“I thought I’d surprise you for your birthday!”

River looked less than pleased. David knew that because he could see the look in his eyes change from happy content boy to the scared and cautious one that arrived on his doorstep three years ago.

“Isobel has just returned from Malta. She’s thinking of coming back to England, David,” Rose said.

“Oh, really. Well I’m surprised you would want to given you enjoy living aboard so much in the warmer climes,” David said glaring at Isobel.

“Yes, well I’m not certain yet on what I want to do next, but I thought it would be nice to see River,” Isobel said stroking River’s arm affectionately.

River shrunk back from her touch. David could tell River wanted to retreat to his grandmother’s side for protection as he eyed her, but all Rose could do was smile back at River.

“Why don’t you take your mum to see your room, River. I’m sure she’d like to see it,” David suggested.

River of course obliged and took his mother upstairs.

“What the devil is she doing here, Rose?”

“I don’t know. She showed up in a taxi with some luggage. I was stunned,” Rose said getting up from the kitchen table.

“You had no idea?”

“No, she only sends River postcards and letters. I had no clue. Maybe she’s run out of money”

“Well if she has, I’ll gladly give her some to get her out of here. Did you see how unsettled River looked?”

“Yes.”

“Like you said Rose, he’s ours now. She’s no good for him. “

Rose nodded.

Later that evening after a very strained dinner, David took Isobel to the side while Rose did the washing up and River went upstairs to get ready for bed.

“Isobel you can’t have River back.”

“What? He’s my son.”

“You left him here with hardly anything one afternoon to run off to Spain with a man who is now long forgotten. I promised your mother, he stays here.”

“No. I want another chance.”

“Isobel you had your chance. He’s our boy now. You forfeited your rights that day.”

“Mum would never agree,” Isobel said.

“Yes, I would,” Rose said re-entering the room, drying her hands on a tea towel. “You abandoned him on our doorstep and haven’t seen him in three years. You don’t get to pick him up like a toy you suddenly want to play with again. He’s a sweet and loving boy who deserves more than your half-hearted interest. He doesn’t need you to discard him again when you get bored of him. He deserves more.”

“Rose is right Isobel. By all means spend time with him here, but I will not allow you take him,” David said.

While River was quite good at remaining unseen his grandfather spied him peering from around the corner towards the end of the conversation and River darted off when he had been ‘made’.

Late that night after everyone was in bed, River went downstairs as the fire in the study still blazed and his grandfather sat in the near dark room, clutching a crystal tumbler.

In a small voice River said, “Grandad?”

David turned to see River clad in his cosy flannel pyjamas with no slippers – better for creeping about soundlessly which River had achieved. “Yes, my boy.”

“I want to stay here with you and Nan.”

“Of course, you do and you will. I’m sorry you overhead that business earlier. I saw you lurking.”

“I should’ve hidden better.”

“You were upset and not thinking. But do remember there may be a time when you’re emotional and have to keep your head,” David said.

“Yes, I know. When it’s important I won’t let you down, Grandad.”

David smiled. “I know you won’t, River.”

And when it did matter River didn’t let David down.

“He came for me that night…he made it better...” David mumbled as the past merged with the recent present.

David’s heart swelled. He did train River well and he did make him proud no matter what the Park thought of his grandson. He was too good even for them.

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

River woke slowly Saturday morning, blinking as the room came into focus, a sliver of light peeped through the curtains in the middle. He moved to get up but his head throbbed. “Ugh,” he said plopping his head back down on the feather pillow. He glanced over at the night table with the empty whisky bottle and glass, the evidence of his solo drinking stint and his pounding head. River rubbed his eyes and yawned. He had to pull himself together. He was in dire need of aspirin and coffee.

Still in his clothes from yesterday, he hoisted himself from his grandparents’ bed. The contents of the box strewn about him. He staggered to the loo and was about to go in when knocking on the door left him groaning. Who would be here so early? The knocking continued. “Coming!” River shouted.

Bounding down the stairs as quick as his aching head would allow, he ripped open the door to find a surprised looking Catherine Standish holding a box of pastries. “Catherine?” River asked.

“River did you just wake up?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s after eleven in the morning.”

“Shit – is it? I was up late and fell asleep going through some stuff.”

“It smells more like you were going through a bottle.”

“Yes, I had a little something to drink.”

She cocked her head, staring up at him with her laser vision eyes, assessing him. “Judging by the state of you, I’d say it’s not a little. Let me make you some coffee.”

River extended his arm welcoming her into the house. As she’d been here before she knew where the kitchen was located and went straight to work. He wondered what Nan would have made of Catherine. She’d like that she was tidy and considerate and well organized if nothing else.

“Why don’t you get freshened up while I make you breakfast. It’ll help.”

River nodded, went upstairs to shower and change and popped some pain tablets. True to her word when he returned to the kitchen Catherine was sliding scrambled eggs onto a plate and he could smell coffee brewing. “Everything smells great. Thank you, Catherine,” he said shyly not making eye contact with her.

Catherine smiled. “Of course. This is such a hard time for you River. I want to help. Eat up before it gets cold,” She urged. “I’ll tidy upstairs.”

Shit, he hadn’t tried to hide the whisky bottle as he didn’t think she’d go upstairs. “Catherine you don’t have to!” he shouted as she went up the steps.

“No, it’s fine I don’t mind!” she shouted back.

River felt uncomfortable. He didn’t want to let yet another person down, especially after she pulled him to the side a few weeks ago realizing he had been coming to work hungover a little too often. Catherine warned him this is how drinking problems started. He sighed and dug into his eggs and once done poured himself coffee and one for her as well.

“River really?” Catherine held up the empty whisky bottle in one hand.

“I know. I don’t know how it happened. I was looking through all those things in the box and time got away from me and I fell asleep.”

“More like passed out. Do you want to be like Lamb? That’s where I see this heading, River!” Catherine chucked the whisky bottle in the recycle bin and it made an angry sound as it hit bottom. She huffed over to clean the crystal glass he had used last night at the sink.

“I made you some coffee,” River offered as he brought both his empty plate and a steaming mug to her.

“Thank you,” she grabbed the plate and fork and cleaned them vigorously.

“I am sorry. I had no intention of drinking that much last night. I found that box and it upset me and just brought so much back…” River said making eye contact this time.

Catherine put the plate and fork in the drainer on the sink. “I saw the things strewn across the bed. Did you make those for your grandparents?”

“Yes. I was surprised they saved all of it. Grandad never seemed sentimental.”

“Sometimes we can know people our whole life and never really know who they are because they don’t want to show us their true selves because they are afraid it will make them look weak.”

River broke in that moment. He’d never heard anything truer spoken about his grandfather. Months of dealing with his grandad and the fallout with his father and his mother’s lack of responsiveness about everything came washing over him in that bright, sunny kitchen at that very moment. He began to sob uncontrollably.

“Oh, River,” Catherine said putting the mug down she had only just accepted a moment before. She didn’t know what else to do but to embrace him. “Come here,” she put her arms around him and let him have a good cry. He had no one else and she was glad to be useful and supportive. She needed to save him from the demons that were creeping into his life where he thought drinking was the only answer.

After a couple of minutes, River broke away, “God, I’m so sorry, Catherine.” River wiped his face with the back of his hand. His blue eyes as sad as ever and so very bloodshot.

“No, don’t be sorry. We’re friends and friends support each other. Now, why don’t you freshen up and I’ll have my coffee and maybe we can go visit your grandfather?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” River turned to leave the kitchen, but turned back around. “Thank you for coming Catherine – you’re a real-life saver.”

Catherine smiled all the way to her eyes, she succeeded and made a difference and hopefully saved River. “Glad I could be here for you, River.”

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

River pulled up to the care home. Catherine got out of River’s car and grabbed her pastries from the backseat. They walked up the path and into the care home together and River lead her through to where the day room was but he didn’t see his grandfather. He spotted Orla helping a resident with her needlepoint.

“Orla, sorry but where’s my grandad?” he asked.

“Oh, River, hi…is this your…” Orla began as she looked over at Catherine.

“This my friend, Catherine. She knows my grandad. She looked after him recently,” River replied, cutting Orla off from assuming who Catherine was to him.

“Oh. He’s in his room. I think the stimulation in the common rooms are too much for him. Sylvie said he seemed better this morning and even asked for you,” Orla replied with a warm smile.

“Would you like a pastry?” Catherine offered.

“No, I’m good. I do appreciate it, though. I have some homemade shortbread waiting for me during my tea break.”

River smiled and motioned for Catherine to follow him.

“She’s a lovely young woman,” Catherine said as River guided her down the hallway towards David’s room.

“Yeah, she’s nice and seems to care a lot for the residents from what I can tell so far. Let’s hope he still wants to see me as things weren’t great yesterday when I left.”

“Sadly, that’s normal for someone with his condition. I hope I don’t upset him. I am worried about that as I’m not tied to the best memories he’s had,” Catherine said furrowing her brow and looking up at River.

“Nah, last time he saw you he seemed fine,” River said as he paused and peeped into his grandad’s room to find him in the chair by the window, practically where he left him yesterday but at least this time he had a book.

River knocked on the doorframe. “Grandad?” River said expectantly.

“Oh, River, my boy! That woman said you’d come and you did!” David smiled brightly at River who returned the gesture.

River crouched down to give his grandad a hug. He looked into his eyes when he pulled away and saw that old, familiar glimmer. He was cognizant for the time being which lifted River’s heart. He hoped it would last the whole visit. “Grandad, I brought Catherine. You remember her from when she looked after you.”

“Hi David, you stayed at my flat.”

“Oh, yes. You were with Lamb and Big Sam. How is Sam? I could always depend on him”

“Umm, David…” Catherine began.

“He used his flight fund to get away. Lamb got a postcard from him recently,” River lied. He wanted to spare his grandfather being the cause of Sam’s death. Plus, no need to change the tone of the visit unnecessarily.

“Hope it’s somewhere warm and tropical for his sake,” David said with a smile.

River wondered if there was a hell and if so, if people like Sam ended up there. He forced that thought from his mind given all the things he managed to get himself into since Slough House. “I’d tell you but I’d have to kill you!”

David chuckled at the old line he would tell River when he was too young to hear some of the more alarming spy stories David and the others at MI5 got up to back in the day.

A couple hours passed, including David having lunch and the pair even playing chess. David conceded that River could learn a lot from Catherine’s skills at the chessboard as she was a superior player. As the visit began to wind down River worried his grandfather would get upset when he left, as he always did as he wanted to go home with him.

“Knock, knock,” Orla said popping into the room, smiling.

“Oh, hey,” River said.

“She’s also better than you at chess.”

“Oh?” River asked confused.

“We played last night. You must be terrible if I’m better than you,” Orla said with cheeky grin.

River felt his cheeks warm. “Apparently I need to brush up on my chess skills from the sound of things.”

Catherine went to get her coat which alerted David to everyone’s imminent departure. “You’re not leaving me here still, River? Surely I’ve been here too long already.”

‘Grandad we’ve been over this before, it’s not safe at home.”

“River is right,” Orla added, “You see this place is really a sort of safe house for very special people and it’s still not safe for you to leave. I know it’s hard to be away from the place you love. I’m far from home, too.”

David narrowed his eyes, looking between the three people standing around him. He did remember that awful business with the man who wanted him dead. “Is the lunatic still out there then?”

“Yes, grandad, he is. The Park is working very hard to find him.”

There was no point telling his grandfather anything else if it placated him. At least he still understood certain concepts like a safe house for now.

“And your father is still out there then, too?”

“Yes, he is.”

“You need to be vigilant then, my boy. He’s very dangerous!” David said clearly becoming agitated.

Orla came closer, smiling and said, “Your grandson is very capable and he’ll be fine, won’t you?” she asked looking over to River.

River gave her a small nod, “Yes, absolutely. Don’t worry, I’ve got this, grandad.”

River did wonder if he truly had everything under control where Frank was concerned. The man was a highly skilled maniac and could come back to do God knows what to him or his grandad.

While Catherine said her goodbyes to David, River followed Orla out into the hallway to have a chat.

“Thanks so much for spending so much time with him and trying to keep him calm. I do really appreciate it,” River said with a smile.

“Oh, I owe you,” Orla said with a sly wink.

“What?”

“It was ages ago when we were kids, but I used to stay with my grandparents some summers when I was like ten or twelve. They lived a few houses away from your grandparents house. The Murrays?” Orla could see a light bulb go off in River’s expression. “You saved me and my kitten when I stupidly went up the tree to grab her.”

“You had very long hair then. God, I didn’t recognize you! I feel so stupid.”

“No, it’s fine! I didn’t realize you were the same River as I didn’t remember what your surname was since so much time had passed since the last time I saw you. Though I did think it unlikely I’d run into someone else in Kent named River.”

River chuckled. “Yeah, not one of the top ten baby names in the UK to be sure.”

“It’s a lovely name,” she said.

“My grandmother invited you to dinner a few times too now that I remember.”

“Yes, when your grandfather mentioned his wife Rose, it dawned on me. I rang my grandmother, she lives with her sister in Cornwall since my grandfather passed years ago now. I asked her and she confirmed it was the right family. It was such an odd coincidence, no?”

“Very odd, but definitely a happy coincidence,” River said with a broad smile.

“Indeed,” Orla said feeling colour rise in her cheeks. She was grateful when Catherine joined them in the hallway.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Orla!” River said as they were leaving and even gave a small wave accompanied by a smile.

“Absolutely.”

“I feel like I missed something,” Catherine said as they got outside into the cold air.

“Apparently Orla and I didn’t realize we knew each other as kids when she visited her grandparents in the summer.”

“Oh, that’s nice. I like her, River. She really cares about the residents.”

“She does,” River said.

Catherine smiled noticing the far away look River had on his face. She hoped Orla might prove to be a positive distraction for him.

[sansaorgana]

— CHRYSALIS (II)

PART ONE

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!half-Vala/half-Elf!Reader (Morgoth's Daughter)

SUMMARY — Mairon is scheming to take over the armies of Morgoth. With his old master's daughter by his side he considers his claims to be legitimised, although he has to admit that her mood swings scare him sometimes. Well, one thing is certain – his wife keeps him on his toes. And their enemies are many, even amongst their own Lieutenants.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It's been some time since part one but I needed a short break and I'm not going to lie but I have been distracted... Those of you who follow me, know already that I have a massive crush on Jack Lowden now... 🤣 It is honestly funny to me because I've known about this guy for years (he was even in one of my favourite TV shows ever aka War & Peace) but it was this one scene of the loser Sauron that pushed me into having a crush??? Seriously?! Anyway, yeah... I've been watching movies with him and at the moment I am in the middle of Slow Horses. Just saying because I have a feeling it is going to end up with a fanfic... 💀 Big shoutout and thanks to @olchr-1 because their comments under my fics about Mairon and Morgoth always inspire me! 💚

WARNINGS — toxic relationship (they're mutually toxic to each other), mentions of Morgoth's abuse towards Sauron, Reader is kinda unhinged (she is Morgoth's daughter, ok? what did you expect?), murder (as in – she murders [an Orc] AND she gets murdered), she's some sort of a ghost in the end (idk if it's a trigger but I'm writing it down in case it is...)

WORD COUNT — 6,140

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

CHRYSALIS (II)

“I do. I can see inside your mind.”

Mairon felt a shiver travelling down his spine at those words. (Y/N) had a sweet smile on her face but it still felt somehow sinister and embarrassing after realising she could have felt all his scheming regarding her.

“Do not be scared!” She whined and giggled as she brushed his ginger hair to put it behind his pointy ear. “I like you the way you are.”

Mairon cracked a smile at her and put his hands on her waist to pull her closer and join their lips together. The kiss started softly but it quickly turned into a heated one. (Y/N) moaned into his mouth and he groaned, pushing aside all the things on the table behind her to pick her up and sit her up on top of it.

Her fingers tangled in his hair and he could hear her heartbeat fastening as his shaky hands travelled to her back where he started to tug onto the lacing of her gown.

But at that, (Y/N) flinched and Mairon broke the kiss, taking a step back and looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She refused to meet his gaze and looked over his shoulder at the still unfinished item behind him.

“I think you still have work to finish, my husband,” she pointed out sweetly and how could he ever be angry at her when she addressed him so beautifully?

Mairon nodded at her and leaned in to steal one more kiss from her but this time it was only a peck on the lips.

He walked away from her to go back to reforging her father’s crown to fit him and she took off her leather apron and folded it neatly before putting it on the desk and leaving the forge without a word.

Mairon wondered quietly what was the reason for her sudden shyness when it came to being physical. How much had she witnessed about her parents’ relationship? And what had it been like?

Or perhaps (Y/N) was simply shy because she had been sheltered for her whole life.

Either way, she had agreed to share her life with him and that was enough for him. To have her close, to show her off as his – Melkor’s daughter, the heiress of darkness. She had chosen him – Mairon – to be her husband. There was no better legitimation for his coronation than this.

He finished his work and the sun was slowly setting in the sky although it was barely visible in their land of snow and cold either way. Mairon took off his apron and fixed his hair before taking the newly reforged crown and taking it to his chambers because he would never leave it unsupervised. Proud of his creation, he walked past (Y/N)’s chambers but he did not bother to check on her. She clearly needed her space now and he decided to give it to her.

After entering his chambers, though, Mairon froze at the sight of (Y/N) laying in his bed and smiling at him gently. She was wearing nothing but a beautiful nightgown made out of a sheer fabric that left very little to his imagination. Mairon swallowed a lump in his throat at the sight.

“I… I have finished,” he told her and placed the crown on top of a dresser, scared of her opinion as he usually was when it came to his craft.

“I can see. It is beautiful, you are very talented with your hands, my Sauron,” she whispered, surprisingly sweet, and Mairon smiled nervously at the praise before turning around to face her.

“Where did you get a nightgown like this?” He asked. After all, all her clothes had been gifts from him and he would never dare to give her such a thing before.

“So… You like it?” She giggled and Mairon’s heart skipped a beat. She had no idea how much he did. Or maybe she did – after all, she could get inside his head. “I know you do, my husband,” she sighed, “but I would like you to say it.”

“I… I do,” Mairon nodded and cleared his throat before sitting on the edge of his bed and carefully reaching his hand out to caress her cheek. “I like it. Very much,” he assured her. 

Oh, how the tables turned. Who was shy now?

When Mairon’s hand lowered and briefly touched (Y/N)’s nightgown, it suddenly disappeared completely, dissolved into air and there she was, naked for him. He looked into her eyes and she chuckled.

“So, it worked,” she whispered, proud of herself. “I learnt from you how to do it,” she confessed and sat up to cling to him and join their lips together in a kiss but this time it was him who was mostly sitting there, petrified to witness her being like that. “I’m sorry, am I doing something wrong?” (Y/N) furrowed her brow and moved away a little, shyly, visibly feeling embarrassed of herself.

And when she was like this, he felt way more confident. Mairon straightened his back and shook his head gently.

“No, my love, not at all. It’s just that I…” He took a deep breath in.

“That you’re a Maia, you were born to serve and not to experience such carnal desires,” she nodded and he closed his mouth. “And yet you do and you are confused but I know the answer.”

“You do?” Mairon inquired.

“I need you,” she breathed out and once more she moved closer to him to kiss the corner of his mouth as her hands caressed his neck with her fingertips. “And you love me. You serve me, Sauron. Therefore, when I need you, your flesh answers to my calling.”

And now it was him flinching at her words and she moved back once more, looking at him with confusion written all over her terrifyingly beautiful features.

“I’m sorry, I…” He fixed his hair with trembling hands as he looked away.

How could he tell her that when she was like this she reminded him of her father and it was not in the way he wanted to remember him? How could he tell her that it nearly scared him and it surely was not helping his desire? 

Melkor had reforged him the same way Mairon reforged his crown – his old self had been melted and twisted in the most wicked ways. But admitting it to her now would be humiliating.

When she was a shy, innocent maiden – he felt confident enough to give in to his desires and to devour her. But when she was showing confidence and was becoming needy herself – greedy for him and his service like his master once had been… He was simply shutting down.

“I would never hurt you, Sauron,” she whispered and he turned his head around to look at her, a little frustrated with the fact that she had been inside his head again – especially at a moment like that. “I would never hurt you first, that is,” she added. “And you have no reason to be embarrassed in front of me. I am your wife and your Queen,” she added.

“I want to be worthy of you but I do not think I ever will be…” He confessed, finally voicing out the fear he had been having for centuries now – from the moment he had seen her for the first time.

“Oh, but my sweet Sauron, do you not know…?” (Y/N) chuckled lovingly and moved closer to him once more but very slowly and carefully this time. She cupped his face and caressed his cheeks with her thumbs before leaning in to rub her nose with his. “I know you will never be and I still like you,” she smiled, probably thinking her words cheered him up but they only broke his heart.

Because what was her love then? Did she love him because he was a good pet? The most loyal servant? Was her love as wicked as her father’s?

“I am my mother’s daughter, too,” she reminded him and kissed his forehead. “I can be sweet and gentle with you, kiss every part of your flesh, every part my father hurt and twisted… Let me heal it,” she breathed out.

He would certainly let her try.

The fortress was the most quiet during the day because the Orcs mostly slept at that time. Mairon and (Y/N) laid in his bed for hours now, facing each other with their limbs tangled and noses brushing as they exchanged sweet kisses and her fingers caressed his hair.

“You are the most extraordinary creature I have ever laid my eyes on,” he breathed out.

“I know,” she smirked. “When will we leave here? I want to see the world,” her eyes sparkled.

“Do you really want to see it or perhaps you can’t wait for the world to fall on its knees at the sight of you?” Mairon wondered teasingly and she chuckled.

“I am aware the realms you will take me to are far from perfect but I will shape them to fit my will and vision,” she said. “And for that, they will build me altars.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then you will certainly make sure they do,” she smirked sweetly but her eyes filled with mischief.

Mairon moved his head up slightly to kiss her on the mouth instead of making a promise with his words. Then, he laid down on the pillow and sighed at the sight of the reforged crown of Morgoth on top of his dresser.

“I will forge you a crown, too. I have an idea for its design already,” he promised. “And then, we will coronate ourselves and marshal our legions out of here.”

“I am shutting myself out of your mind then,” (Y/N) giggled. “I want the design to be a surprise,” she explained and kissed his cheek.

He couldn’t help the feeling that he indeed was her pet but perhaps she would be a much kinder owner than her father had been.

Tasarë woke up and leaned on the barren, dry tree as she sighed at the sight of the huge fortress in the horizon. They would arrive there in the afternoon on that day but she had not seen it last night due to the darkness. Now, in the hazy morning she was able to see what was awaiting her – the dreadful place and even more dreadful master within its walls. 

“Why me?” She asked Mairon while he was watching her with a mix of pity and relief that his task would be done soon.

“He saw you in my memories,” he confessed. She deserved to know the truth now, at the very end of their road together.

“You were that huge werewolf watching me in the forest,” Tasarë chuckled and shook her head. “I sensed your eyes on me.”

“And that was your demise. You know what they say – curiosity killed the cat,” Mairon crossed his arms and stood by her side, looking at the fortress ahead of them with pride.

“Why were you staring at me?” Tasarë inquired and Mairon shrugged his arms. He truly did not know.

“Something drew me in. Perhaps it was your fate,” he explained cruelly.

Cruelly, because what could this young and innocent maiden possibly have done to deserve such punishment?

“Please,” she took off her humble ring with a ruby stone on it, “take it,” she offered it to him as her eyes filled with tears.

“What is the meaning behind this gesture?” Mairon raised his eyebrows, a little mockingly staring at the ring in her trembling hand.

“I want you to keep it, a memory of me,” she explained. “A memory of who I am now, before your master bends me to his will,” she added and Mairon swallowed thickly at her words. “Please,” she begged and he finally took the ring from her hand and caressed it with his fingers.

“Why are you giving this to me? It was me who brought this down upon you and it was me delivering you to him,” Mairon asked, confused.

“Who am I supposed to give it to?” She asked and laughed through the tears as she looked around. No one else was there. Then, her face became serious again. “I can still feel the light of Valinor deep within you,” she whispered, her voice nearly inaudible and a shiver went down his spine at her words. “You are a Maia. An emissary of the Valar.”

“I serve only one of them,” he explained.

“Whatever. You just do what you were made for – you serve,” she nodded and turned her head around, leaving his head a mess.

Her words were an explanation why she couldn’t hate him completely. But they also were an insulting reminder that he was nothing compared to his master – he was replaceable and meaningless.

“We should go,” he muttered and hid the ring inside one of his pockets.

Mairon played with Tasarë’s ring between his fingers for one last time before breaking it apart in his forge to extract the red ruby stone and put it in (Y/N)’s crown. Made of her father’s iron and decorated with her mother’s stone, it was pretty humble and smaller than Mairon’s but he made sure it looked as intimidating as his own.

He did not mean to insult his wife with its design – quite the contrary. Her power was of the raw kind and she did not need any further decorations. Unlike him, humbly Maia who was constantly trying to hide the fact he still felt like a nobody. And he knew he would not have to explain it to her because she would know – she could read his mind, after all.

When the crown was forged, he took it carefully into his hands and carried it back to the chambers he was sharing now with her. (Y/N) was standing by the window and staring outside, sighing at the only sight she had ever known – endless snow and cold.

“When will we leave here, Sauron?” She asked with a whine.

“Soon, my darling. Very soon. Look what I have for you,” she smiled gently and could feel his cheeks burning.

This, so far, was the most significant gift he had ever given her. Perhaps even while proposing to her he had not been so nervous.

She turned around and he held his breath, waiting for her opinion and he knew that she was a cruel judge of his presents and craft.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened and she froze for a moment before approaching him to take a better look.

“It surely holds lots of power,” she nodded as her fingertips caressed the ruby of the crown. She smiled to herself, sensing her mother as she looked at her husband’s face, finding his eyes. She searched his mind to look for the explanation and then she nodded at him. “Did you love my mother?” She asked, suddenly.

Mairon’s heart skipped a beat.

“She was not mine to love,” he only answered.

“And I am?” (Y/N)’s eyes sparkled cruelly. She could have promised him hundreds of times she would never hurt him but sometimes her father’s nature would overtake her in those little moments, keeping him on his toes. He did not believe her promises at all.

In fact, he was quite scared of his own wife. But that was the price he had to pay for binding himself to such a powerful creature just to be able to bask in her light and to use her power to increase his own influence.

“I understand that you do not like the crown,” he admitted his defeat, looking down.

“On the contrary. It is splendid. Your finest work so far, husband,” she explained and took the item gently from his hands as he laid his eyes on her once more – his needy, yearning gaze, desperate for her praise. “It is simple and humble and yet so powerful, detailed and exquisite. It takes real talent of the greatest craftsman to forge such a beauty,” she admitted and put it onto her head before turning around to look at herself in the mirror. She was smiling and Mairon took a deep breath out of relief.

“I shall inform Adar to gather his armies for our coronation,” Mairon bowed his head slightly.

“Do we need an official coronation? In front of these… creatures?” (Y/N) winced. “We can do whatever we want, can we not?”

“Yes, of course we can,” Mairon cleared his throat. What he really meant was that she could do whatever she wanted. But even that was not entirely true because her lack of experience would soon overshadow her natural inheritance. “It will just send a message to all the right people and look more significant in their eyes if we go through with the whole ceremony.”

“We did not have any ceremony for our wedding,” she pointed out. “You truly show your priorities now, dear husband.”

“Marriage is a sacred and intimate union, I do not care for the audience when it comes to it. My love and devotion are only for you to see,” he answered.

“I understand,” she nodded and turned her head around to look directly into his eyes instead of reading his face from the mirror’s reflection. “But on the next day after our coronation we are leaving this place. And we are never coming back here.”

“Yes, my Lady,” Mairon nodded.

“In fact, I have a perfect usage for the North,” she shrugged her arms and looked back into the mirror to adjust the crown on her head and admire herself.

“And that is…?” Mairon furrowed his brows, a little scared of her answer.

“It will be a perfect prison for our enemies, it is going to be where we will send those who refuse to follow us,” she smiled.

“Why would we not simply kill them?” Mairon wondered out loud. That seemed like a waste of resources.

“And where is the fun in that?” She huffed, reminding him of her father once more.

And then, she reminded him of Melkor even more because she added the line his old master had often been repeating:

“You are too stiff. One of the best things about holding power is that we set the rules and we can make them as enjoyable as we wish.”

They completed each other. His robes were red and heavily decorated with golden elements and details such as chains and embroidered words in black speech. Her robes were the same, only golden with red thread and red decorations. Together they presented themselves very regal but it was very clear which one of them held more power even though she was standing behind him with her hands clasped behind her back.

(Y/N) could feel Adar’s eyes on her, eyeing her up and down constantly but as much as she tried to get inside his mind, he was pushing her away. It was nearly embarrassing that she could not get through but there were things her husband did not know of – for example that her power was not as vast as he thought. 

With proper training, perhaps one day she could live up to the image he had of her inside his mind but the real reason why she could search through him so easily was because she shared a special bond with Mairon. Her father had left the door open within his servant’s broken and twisted mind and it was easy for her to sneak in now, especially when he was not really fighting her abilities back – trained like a good dog by Melkor to obey such infiltrating requests and just allow it to happen.

Adar was shaped by Melkor, too, but he was different. He held no love in his heart for his former master. And… simply – nearly embarrassingly simply – (Y/N) did not love him.

But she loved Mairon and he loved her. That was making the whole deal of reading his mind much easier.

She could only guess what Adar was thinking but she could sense some odd mix of pity and resentment upon his face whenever he looked at her. 

When the right time came, he nodded at her and she took a step ahead to touch her husband’s arm and squeeze it. He turned his head to glance at her with a soft smile.

“We can start now,” she whispered and he nodded.

“Are you sure you do not want to do this with me?” He asked.

“No, better not… I am not yet prepared to give speeches,” she took a few steps back again to hide a little in the shadows, as if it was possible while wearing such robes.

Mairon licked his lips and took a deep breath in before addressing the filthy creatures staring at him with widened eyes, curiously waiting for his words.

He nearly felt embarrassed that they were the army he was offering to his wife. She deserved real, powerful battalions. And she would have them very soon once they’d conquer more lands.

“Always, after a defeat… the shadow takes another shape and grows again,” he began, watching two Orcs carrying two crowns on black, velvet cushions. Once more, he winced a little at the realisation how humiliating it had to be for his wife to have her crown being carried to her by such a filthy creature. “Morgoth is gone,” he continued, “leaving us alone and disgraced. But today, a new age begins,” he added and fidgeted with his fingers, nervously. “Under me and my wife. Your new masters. Sauron and Lady (Y/N),” he introduced the woman the Orcs were the most curious about as he reached out his arm and she sighed, taking it and walking up to him to show herself although she had just asked him not to put her on display.

“What they say is true. My wife is a daughter of Morgoth,” Mairon announced, proudly and with a big grin on his face.

“And my husband – his most faithful and powerful Lieutenant,” (Y/N) announced, trying to legitimise his claims in the eyes of their army.

Perhaps she deserved it all more than him but the truth was that without his support she would not go far. He was far more experienced than her and he had been taking part in real battles for her father. 

“And with a new age, we bring you a new vision. A path to unconditional conquest,” Mairon promised, addressing the Orcs but squeezing his wife’s hand and she squeezed his back, sensing his nervousness. “For we seek a new kind of power,” he let go of her hand and raised his own as he spoke as if he was giving them all a lesson. (Y/N) clasped her hands on her abdomen, nearly humbly, but she remained right by his side this time without retreating to the shadows. “Not of the flesh, but over flesh. A power of the unseen world. One we shall use to enslave the peoples of Middle-earth to our very will,” Mairon explained.

The Orcs looked at each other and hummed to themselves, quite satisfied with such a promise. (Y/N) cracked a smile at her husband and he smiled back but his face went very serious again.

“Many Orcs will die,” he added and the atmosphere inside the room shifted immediately as the Orcs changed their humming into growling.

“But out of the chaos, we will forge a new and perfect order. No longer will we be hunted as the demons who broke Middle-earth, but rather worshipped as the saviours who finally healed it,” Mairon tried to show some excitement while explaining his plan to the Orcs, hoping they would share his enthusiasm. After all, they were not very intelligent beings. “By bringing its peoples together, to rule them all as one!” He raised his hands but the Orcs were not calmed down at all.

Malicious whispers in Black Speech echoed through the room – “Sauron lies”.

(Y/N) moved uncomfortably and glanced at her husband but he was too embarrassed to lay his eyes upon her as well. He was slowly starting to feel humiliated and to be humbled in front of her was nearly as dreadful as death. He was desperate to prove his worth to her, to make her see that he was truly a worthy successor of her father. But whatever he was proving now was the fact he was nothing but still his pathetic servant. A shadow of Melkor.

“Doubt me at your peril,” he continued but his voice slightly trembled out of nervousness and he clasped his hands in the same manner as his wife had clasped hers. However, he managed to lower his voice once more and make it sound dark again. “You have nowhere else to turn. The Valar will never forgive you. Elves will never accept you,” he pointed out. “Men… Men will never look upon you with anything but horror and disgust,” he added with a hint of satisfaction and contempt.

The Orcs’ growling did not stop. In fact it had gotten worse.

“A corrupted and ignoble race, worthy only to be haunted and slaughtered,” Mairon ignored their unhappy reaction as he went on.

From the corner of her eye, (Y/N) spotted one of the Orcs standing nearby – chosen to be one of their personal guards – shifting slightly and she spotted a dagger in his hands.

“Watch out!” She gasped at her husband and took a step back, watching him turn around quite elegantly and slitting the Orc’s throat swiftly in self-defence.

The audience went completely quiet and (Y/N) blinked a few times at the sight. She had never witnessed her husband like that and if he cared so much about proving his worth – perhaps at this very moment he just had.

The Orc fell down to his knees, choking on his own blood. (Y/N) approached Mairon, feeling Adar’s intense gaze on her back. Her husband pulled the Orc even closer to himself and watched the life leaving his victim with fascination and resentment. (Y/N) tilted her head and watched, too.

And after a while, she reached for her own dagger and finished the assassin off with a few systematic and rough thrusts. After the last one, the Orc’s body fell down lifeless and bleeding. (Y/N) looked up into her husband’s eyes. She could sense he was surprised and impressed but he chose not to show it.

Mairon turned around to run his hands through his ginger hair that had gotten ruffled in the fight. He wanted to always present himself neatly in front of his followers, therefore he smoothed them in a nonchalant manner that also betrayed his nervousness.

(Y/N) did not bother to fix anything about her appearance while she hid her blade away without even wiping it. Her anger rose as she looked at the filthy army of the Orcs below them.

“We are your only future and our path is your only path!” She yelled at them, feeling her face swelling up with thick, black blood she inherited from her father’s cursed flesh he had been bound to. Another long silence occurred at her outburst and she felt herself calming down a little at the sight of the Orcs tilting their heads. Perhaps only now they had truly realised whose daughter she really was and that it was not wise to raise her anger. “Who among you dare say otherwise?” She asked, calmly.

No one dared to say anything, therefore she stood by Adar’s side and he took Mairon’s crown from one of the velvet cushions. Her husband was supposed to be crowned first and she cracked a smile at him once he was kneeling down, presenting himself nearly humbly as he waited for Morgoth’s reforged crown to be put onto his head.

The Orcs were growling and snarling when Adar raised the crown to show it to them but now, when (Y/N) had tasted their blood, she was not afraid to taste more. She would fight each one of them if she had to. It was her right. Her father had created them and they had no right to question her or her husband.

She had chosen Mairon to be her companion. Perhaps he had been manipulating her into this choice but, in the end, it had been entirely her decision to choose him despite everything. The only person in the whole world who had any right to question him was she. Nobody else.

She was about to become the Queen of Middle-earth and only the Queen could question her King Consort. The one she had chosen for herself.

She got a little dreamy thinking all these thoughts and spotted Mairon looking up to meet her gaze. He was so uncertain at the moment, so humiliated and so humble… Her heart clenched inside her chest as she sent him an encouraging and loving smile. It visibly soothed him and he looked down once more.

Perhaps he would never be truly worthy of her but still – out of all the men in Middle-earth – he was the most worthy one.

“All Hail, Lord Sauron and Lady (Y/N)!” Adar exclaimed in the Black Speech. “The New Dark Lord and The Dark Queen.”

A shiver of anticipation travelled down her body. Perhaps her husband would never be truly worthy of her but the truth was – she would not have been there if it was not for him. He made it all possible. He was the one to take her back from her father’s cold realm created to protect her. Because, genuinely, she was not sure if she had been able to get out of there alone.

She owed him everything just like he owed everything to her.

“All hail!” The Orcs chanted hesitantly and Adar walked up to Mairon.

(Y/N) watched Adar carefully – something was not right about him, something was very off-putting and very worrying. She furrowed her brows and then she realised what he was about to do after raising the crown up and turning it around in a swift movement, directing the iron spikes at Mairon.

“No!” She yelled and jumped into the front but a sharp pain in the abdomen stopped her from continuing.

“No!” It was Mairon’s turn to scream now as she looked down and saw the spikes of her father’s crown buried deep into her stomach. She raised her eyes and furrowed her brows at Adar – her assassin. There was satisfaction written all over his face.

“I pitied you… But you are just like him,” he whispered before taking the spikes out of her body and turning around to attack Mairon with them now. (Y/N) reached her hands out weakly but she fell to her knees and grabbed her hurt stomach.

She should not die easily – after all she was half a Vala. But she was also half an Elf and the Vala who was her father had been bound to his flesh. Therefore, an item so powerful was able to defeat her – or at least to destroy her flesh.

She choked at the blurred sight of her husband being pierced through with Morgoth’s crown and then a bunch of Orcs came at him. He was trying to fight them back bravely and get to her, shouting her name but it was all for nothing. There were too many of the Orcs keeping them apart and tearing him to pieces.

(Y/N) sobbed and Adar crouched down next to her, holding her chin up so her dying eyes could still see her husband’s torment.

“The legacy of your father is gone now,” Adar whispered right before she lost consciousness.

When (Y/N) came back to reality, she felt her own presence but there was no shape nor flesh around it. She existed as a spirit and she found herself inside the very same hall she had been slain in but it was empty now. There were dark shadows where her body and her husband’s body had laid in the puddles of thick, black blood as anger filled her whole presence at the memory of betrayal.

She felt the cold wind coming inside through the doors and she was on her way outside, already trying to come up with what her next flesh would look like. She had lost the one she was given by birth – the one which actually looked like a mix of her mother and the body her father had been bound to. But now she would forge a new flesh for herself and she had to admit that was quite exciting. Perhaps without pointy ears this time – to blend in with the crowd.

Her plan was to leave the North and to go South. To join the humans and the Elves and all the other creatures living there – to meet them, to see how they lived, to learn their patterns and about the world she was supposed to rule one day.

Finally she would leave the land of the endless snow. Where once her father and then her husband had kept her as if she was their prisoner.

But as she moved closer and closer to the door, she felt a tugging presence within the walls of the abandoned fortress. Sauron.

He was still alive somehow – in a way – just like she was but much weaker and not as aware of his own self as she was. It was no surprise, after all he was only a Maia.

And if she left him now, perhaps he would never survive on his own.

(Y/N) froze right in front of the doors leading outside. She wanted to go, she really did. She had craved to see the world ever since she had been a little girl…

But she could not leave him. She could not leave Sauron. Her husband. 

She remembered his nervous smile, his fidgeting fingers, his ginger hair, his blushing cheeks. How he would steal delicate kisses from her, how they would lay in each other’s arms under the covers and whisper sweet things. How his eyelashes would brush the skin of her cheeks in the most intimate moments.

She could not leave him. He needed her.

Even though she was not sure if he would do the same thing for her.

And just like that, she retreated and went down to the dark, cold and damp corridors under the fortress. And even though she was capable of forging herself a new flesh much quicker than he was, she delayed it because she allowed his weak and pathetic form to feed off of her energy to keep him strong and alive. She was giving herself away to him – piece by piece, which was slowing down her own progress of forging new body but it was increasing the speed of his. And she nearly felt chained with her own devotion instead of the real chains – just like her mother remained chained to her father in some foreign realm where Melkor was being punished.

“You can heal, too,” Mairon assured (Y/N) and reached out to help the dying butterfly. “Look,” he focused on giving away some of his energy to make the butterfly regain its strength and the young woman’s eyes sparkled as she laughed.

“You fed him with your own spirit,” (Y/N) noticed. “Why do you think I would let any parasite feed off of me? Who would be ever worthy of sharing my power?” She asked and Mairon’s mouth opened slightly.

This conversation had taken place when they had first met. Apparently, she found out the answer to her question – who would ever be worthy of sharing her power? He was.

(Y/N) was half-Elf and Elves were mortal creatures in a way they could be slain or fatally injured. When Adar had killed her, he had killed the elven part of her. The light was gone from her body now and it was no longer a question of whether she would tilt into the light or the darkness. Oh, no… The decision was made.

“Once we get out of here, once we forge ourselves new flesh, my darling,” she cooed to the black, slimy creature that remained all left of her husband at the moment, “we will have our revenge. And do not even try to stop me from destroying anything or anyone,” she threatened as the black, weakly breathing substance whined. “You are right, my sweet, the world needs to be healed. But it is far too rotten. We have to start over. We have to rebuild it once more, from the ashes of the current one. The Dark Queen and her Dark Lord.”

She had been nothing but a chrysalis so far but – soon – she would bloom into a beautifully terrifying butterfly.

Into her father’s daughter.

MASTERLIST

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 6

And what if I maybe decided that this isn't actually the last chapter?

Don't ask how my work week is going, I stupidly wrote this instead of the draft report I need to submit on Friday.... Incidentally, the report has a shorter wordcount than this chapter so technically, technically all I need is some actual ooomph to go ahead and write it!

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5

Masterlist

Tagging: @cillmequick & @thomasshelbyswife

Chapter 6

Weeks had passed since Seren had left. She made her way around the aisle of the supermarket with her new charge, not too fast and not too slow. Heaven forbid she get the speed wrong. 

“That jam there, on the middle shelf.” The elderly woman in the wheelchair said suddenly, pointing vaguely at approximately 80 jars of jam variations.

“This one?”

“No, down.”

“This?”

“No left a bit, the one that looks like cherries.”

“Cherry jam then?”

“No, the one next to it.” Seren resisted the urge to smash every jar on the floor. She held up another jar. “That’s the ticket, love. Now, eggs.”

“You don’t like eggs?” “I want you to make a cake. Coffee and walnut.” Seren hesitated, her last coffee and walnut cake had been demolished in the space of about four hours by David and River.

“How about a vicky sponge instead?” She suggested, scanning the shelves.

“Too sweet. Next to the eggs, there, the walnuts.”

“Coffee and walnut, my favourite.” Another voice chimed in.

“Mine too! She’s refusing to make it though.”

“I’m not refusing, I just-” Seren turned back to the lady, eggs and walnuts in hand. Alongside her stood River.

“Fine Mags, I’ll make coffee and walnut.” She dumped the stuff in the basket on Maggie’s lap. “Excuse me.” She said politely to River and went to push the wheelchair on. “Seren, wait, please?”

“Who’s this young man?” 

“River, nice to meet you.” He shook her hand, Maggie blushed.

“Seren, you told me you were single!”

“I am.”

“I think I’d remember if you’d told me about this fella. He’s very handsome,” she turned to River, “you’re very handsome.”

“That’s because I haven’t told you about him. There’s nothing to tell. This is an old… acquaintance, that’s all.” Maggie’s bark of laughter turned into a hacking cough.

“Old acquaintance. Do I look bloody daft?”

“Come on, we’ve got to get a move on. Senior swim time.” Seren turned the wheelchair away from River and started at speed down the rest of the aisle.

“Bet he’d love to see you in a cossie.”

“Margaret Monroe!” 

“I’m only saying, love. If you’ve got it, flaunt it.” As they rounded the next aisle, Maggie turned in her chair to Seren, “he’s still there.” She whispered loudly enough to be heard by the entirety of the store. “Corrr and he’s looking at you like you hung the moon.” 

“Give it a rest, Mags.” Seren could feel the heat in her cheeks.

“It’s rude to ignore people.” The older woman said sternly.

“It’s a long story. We’ve got to go otherwise you’ll miss swimming.” Maggie raised her hand and waved to River who caught them up easily with no wheelchair to manoeuvre around. 

“How do you know the lovely Seren then?”

“She looked after my grandfather.”

“Oh!” She said brightly, then her face fell a little, “did he die? I’m so sorry.”

“No, no. He’s… fine. He’s his usual self.” River confirmed, noting the relief that crossed Seren’s face.

“Why’d she leave then? Why’d you leave?” Maggie looked back and forth between them.

“I told you, it’s a long story. Do you want to go swimming or not?” Maggie huffed. 

“It was nice to meet you, love. We’re off to the leisure centre for a swim. She keeps telling me it’s good for me.”

“Sounds fun. It was nice to meet you Maggie, see you again.”

“No you won’t.” Seren interrupted.

“Can I call you?” He asked quickly, before the opportunity to ask had disappeared.

“No, please don’t.”

“You should! God knows this girl needs to smile more. Either that or she needs a proper good-”

“I smile loads.” Seren scowled, interrupting quickly to stop Maggie from saying something less appropriate. Maggie rolled her eyes. As she went to push the wheelchair through the checkout, River dropped Seren’s favourite chocolate bar into the basket.

“For after swimming.” He shrugged. “It’s really good to see you. Still wearing my hoodie though?” He smiled faintly. Seren nodded at the unexpected gesture and to her surprise, River was the one to walk away. As Seren watched him leave, Maggie chattered away next to her.

“Well you kept him quiet, what a lovely man Seren! Bet he’d show you a good time,” the older lady sniggered.

“Stop interfering, you old perv.” Seren teased her gently. “I’m going to stop getting you those smutty books from the library.” She threatened.

“Don’t you dare. I deserve to get my thrills from somewhere young lady.” Seren let her talk, her mind drifting to River. He’d done exactly as she’d asked and not contacted her in weeks. A week after the confrontation in the barn, she received a small box with her book, phone charger, chocolate and various other things she’d left behind at David’s house. It had been hand delivered to her house, she hadn’t sent a thank you message. As the weeks had gone on, she found her anger giving way to sadness. She still felt foolish for having trusted both River and David so completely, she began to feel more betrayed than angry. She’d fended off nosey questions from Maggie when she’d first started looking after her, her bruises still visible and her hand still tightly wrapped. She was so easily distracted by a tall flash of dirty blonde hair in the corner of her eye and now, with the unexpected meeting in the supermarket, she found herself wondering if she’d been right all along and he had really been there, she hadn’t imagined it or wished for it. With Maggie safely back at home, Seren poured herself a glass of wine and tried to settle with a book. A light tap at the door stirred her. River.

“I told you not to come here.” “You told me not to call.” She rolled her eyes, holding the door so it was clear he wasn’t going to be welcomed inside.

“I told you I didn’t want to see you again.”

“I know.”

“So? Why are you here?” She looked at him properly for the first time. Stubble longer than normal, a mournful look in his eyes and dark circles underneath. She knew she didn’t look much better, Maggie told her daily how sad her eyes were. Her resolution to not let him in was wavering. With a sigh, she pulled open the door fully. “Come in. 5 minutes, that’s all you get.” He slipped past her gratefully and she could smell the soap and aftershave he used, scents that had long deserted the hoodie she continued to wear.

“I wanted to apologise. Properly, I mean. I didn’t get a chance really that night, or when you came back to get your car. It was… fucked up. You should never have been caught up in it all.”

“You should have told me the truth.”

“How could I?” He asked, desperately. “I had to keep you safe.” 

“Safe?” She scoffed, closing the space between them and moving the neckline of her top to one side, “I still have the bruises!” Barely visible to the naked eye, River could see the faint marks which still littered her neck. Without thinking, he brought his hand up and traced the outline with his finger. He could make out her pulse, her heart pounded, and the movement of her nervous swallow. She took a step back, shaking her head, “don’t touch me.” She pleaded. His hand and his gaze dropped down to her hand where she still had a bandage.

“Still not healed?” He asked, his voice hoarse. He lifted it gently, holding it in both of his hands.

“They had to align the fracture. Two more weeks and I can take this off.” She felt a warm tear drop onto the exposed skin on the palm of her hand and looked up at him. 

“You got hurt because of me-” he started.

“I got hurt because I stupidly thought I could punch a grown man. I was an idiot, trying to protect David - who apparently can handle himself just fine.” 

“No, you were incredible. If you hadn’t been there… I wouldn’t have been there in time. They’d have done it, they’d have killed him.” She knew she should take another step back but the warmth of his body was intoxicating and she was struggling to hold onto her anger. He released her hand and wiped his eyes.

“How is he?”

“Pain in the arse. Hates everyone they send to look after him. He misses you.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t make me the guilty one.”

“I didn’t mean to, sorry. It’s just… he was better with you, I think.”

“He went through a crazy evening, finding out your old workplace wants you dead is a bit mental.”

“I was better with you.”

“River-”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry again.”

“Stop apologising, you’re doing my head in. You look like crap.” She muttered, wrapping her arms around him. 

“Yeah, so grandad keeps telling me.” He let his head drop into the crook of her neck and breathed her in.

“It’s just a hug, that’s all you get then you can fuck off.” She felt him nod against her and the soft huff of his breath on her skin. The proximity and familiarity made her heart flutter. She reluctantly released the hug, for her own sanity. He watched her intently, the conflict in her eyes clearly visible. He brought his hands up to cup her face and she leaned into his touch, a trembling sigh passing her lips as he met her in a soft, uncertain kiss. She pulled away first, placing a hand on his chest to push herself back. “No. No, I’m still so angry, River.” She paced back and forth in front of him. “I feel like such an idiot for trusting you so implicitly.” She told him, the accusatory tone to her voice gave away the anger rising in her again. She backed further away from him. “You should go now. I asked you not to come.” She marched past him and flung the door open wide. “Go now please, I can’t… I need to stop thinking about you, and the only way I can do that is to not be near you.” She trailed off weakly. He paused as he passed her. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you either.” He admitted cautiously. Seren reached for him first, her traitorous body overruling her mind and all sense of reason. She caught the edge of his jacket and pulled him down into a far less hesitant kiss than the previous one. He kicked the front door shut again and pressed her back against the wall. She led him down the short hallway, dropping his jacket and her (his) hoodie along the way. River pulled off the oversized t-shirt she wore, surprised to find nothing underneath and enveloped her in his arms. He walked her backwards through her open bedroom door, both of them tripping on her discarded shorts, his t-shirt. She pulled him with her onto the bed, hissing in pain as she realised she'd used the wrong hand. He slotted between her open thighs and turned her hand gently, kissing the slither of exposed skin between the thumb and index finger. Seren wanted to hold onto the anger she felt was justified, but she couldn't deny how much she wanted him. He stopped suddenly and she held her breath, waiting. She felt a kiss at the base of her throat and then at each ghost of a fingertip bruise on her neck, faint, but he found them all. She choked back a sob.

“I hate that I need you so badly.” Her whisper turned into a low moan as his long fingers teased a path through the thin layer of her underwear, already soaked with her need for him. She bucked against his hand, holding it in place tightly with her good hand. 

“Show me, Seren,” he demanded quietly, “show me what you need.” He slid the underwear down her legs. She covered his hand with her own and guided it to where she wanted him most. River thrust his fingers into her torturously slowly, building her orgasm from so deeply inside she could hardly breathe. "I've got you," he murmured through kisses, "I've got you." His thumb brushed against her clit and she rocked into him. She grasped at his shoulders as she got closer and closer to the edge. "I want this… want you, always." He kissed her hard as she came, swallowing her moans as she clenched around his fingers, his name on her lips. He worked her through the orgasm, watching her with a mix of pride and lust as she fell boneless into the mattress. 

“I’m not sure this is an appropriate way to earn forgiveness, River.” She whispered, a giggle bubbling in her chest for the first time in weeks.

“Thought I was never going to see you smile again,” he half joked.

“‘M not smiling.”

“Yeah you are.”

“It’s the endorphins. Totally out of my control.” She sat up to look at him, covering herself with her arm. “How do you still have clothes on?” She gestured to his jeans.

“I was more bothered about getting yours off,” he admitted. 

“Some things never change.”

“I’ve missed you so much, Seren.” His head dropped to his chest with a heavy sigh, the tension between them finally cracking. She moved her hand from where it covered her chest and brought it to cup his face, her fingertips running over the stubble. “Everytime I sleep, I see Duffy pointing that fucking gun at you.” He said hoarsely, laying bare his helplessness. Seren closed her eyes, trying to blink away the tears.

“Oh, love.” She sighed. Removing her hand from his face, she got off the bed and pulled on the closest item of clothing, his t-shirt. Then she set about closing the bedroom curtains and switching off the light in the hallway. He watched her from the edge of the bed until she stood directly in front of him. “C’mon, clothes off, we’re going to bed.” She nudged him. “I’ll be back in a sec.” She disappeared to what he assumed was the bathroom and came out a few minutes later in a t-shirt of her own. She put the one she’d taken off with the jeans he’d left by the bed and pulled back the covers of the bed. She folded her body around him, tucking her knees behind his and pressing her chest to his back. He could feel her warm breath on the back of his neck and her hand curled around onto his chest and for the first time in weeks they both fell asleep straight away. Seren woke on and off through the night to soft caresses and kisses until they succumbed to sleep again. In the early hours, fuelled by a restful night, she felt River curl around her, pressing hard into the soft flesh of her thighs. She rolled onto her back and pulled him to cover her body, pressing her heels into the back of his thighs to guide him into her. It was still so dark in her room that she could hardly see him. She let her hands guide her, trailing up his arms, over his broad back, down to squeeze his thigh, back up and into his hair. He matched with each roll of her hips, slowly and languidly. The darkness made everything quieter, his whispered affirmations, praise and moans were dizzying. Seren clung to him like she never wanted to let go, holding him to her as they both came. When she woke again, she was alone. If it hadn’t been for the ache between her thighs, it could have easily been a dream. 

*

River clattered up the stairs to Lamb’s office with more energy than he’d had in weeks, though his face did not share the same spirit.

“Blimey, you’re positively sprightly this morning. What’s wrong with your face?”

“It’s just my face. Ewelina has walked out on the old bastard.”

“Was she the Polish girl?”

“Yep, he insulted her cooking.”

“How many is that now?”

“He’s gone through eight, I think? He didn’t like Glenys-”

“No one fucking liked Glenys.”

“Or Debbie, Sarah, Pete-”

“What was wrong with Pete?” Lamb asked, incredulous.

“He couldn’t play chess. Shame, he left some decent IPA behind.”

“Is there anyone left?”

“Dunno, guess we’ll have to ask Taverner.” Lamb laughed,

“No, no Cartwright, you will have to ask Lady Di. Not me.”

“Go on Lamb, please? She’ll kill me.”

“While I would pay to see that, I’ll settle for watching you make the call.” He sniggered. With a heavy sigh, River took the outstretched phone.

“Umm, hi? It’s Cartwright? River Cartwright?” Lamb couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation to his disappointment. “Yep, another one. No, he just says they’re all shit. Great, thanks.” He hung up and passed back the phone. 

“Sending someone else?”

“So she says.”

“Y’know Cartwright, I’m quite enjoying the inconvenience all of this is causing for Lady Di. I feel like it’s a bit of vindication for us.” Lamb said decidedly.

The cause of the inconvenience tutted into his coffee, his mind wasn’t playing ball and the crossword was giving him more trouble than he deemed necessary. Outside, he heard a car far larger than River’s arrive, accompanied by a neat knock on his back door.

“David. Seems I have a reason to be here again?”

“Diana, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Well the pleasure is certainly not mine, I assure you.”

“Coffee?”

“Hmm,” Diana Taverner looked around David’s kitchen while he pottered around making her a cup of coffee. “You’ve declined another approved carer?” “They weren’t suitable.”

“None of them?” She scoffed. “I do find that hard to believe. You’re becoming a nuisance, David. I’m starting to regret not letting Duffy shoot you.”

“You don’t mean that,” he smiled.

“I actually do. I want this resolved, I want this off my desk, and the next time I hear your name, I want it to be when I find out that you died peacefully in your bed. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly.”

“So what is it you want?” David hesitated.

“I want Seren back.”

“The girl from the barn?” He nodded.

“I got on with her, she understood me. We had an agreement.” Taverner frowned.

“Cartwright, you know she’s not service approved. Our agreement was that you would have someone who was service approved.”

“So employ her? It’s not that difficult, surely?” She drank her coffee in silence. 

“Will it shut you up?”

“There’s a good chance of that, yes.” He held up a finger, “but I don’t want River to know, not until it’s done.”

“That’s making the very big assumption that I’m going to do this for you?”

“You want it off your desk. That’s how it goes.” 

“I don’t like being held over a barrel like this.”

“Should have shot me when you had the chance then.” Taverner laughed,

“Yes, well - touché. Very well. You won’t hear from me again.” She left her half drunk coffee on the table and David went back to his crossword.

*

Seren hadn’t heard from River at all. She sat with Maggie side by side in a brightly lit corridor, like naughty schoolgirls waiting to go to the office.

“I don’t like this.” Maggie grumbled.

“I know, but Daniel and Penny think it’s the right thing for you.”

“We’re coping perfectly fine, aren’t we?”

“Of course we are, but you’ll have a lot more friends here?” She held out a leaflet, “look, they go to senior swim as well? And trips to the cinema and Kew Gardens - you love Kew Gardens.” Maggie huffed.

“I like living in my own bloody house.” Seren didn’t respond. Maggie hadn’t taken the news of moving to a care home well at all. Her daughter and son-in-law were in the office finalising the details of her new ensuite room. “Will you visit me?”

“Of course I will, Mags. Try and stop me.” Seren took Maggie’s hand and kissed the back of it. 

“You’re a good girl, Seren. What will you do?” She shrugged.

“No idea. Maybe a holiday? It’s been a weird year so far.”

“Somewhere sunny. Get that swimming cossie out again.”

“I’m starting to think you’ve got a thing about my cossie, Mags.”

“Maybe in my younger days darling. Don’t tell Penny.” Seren smiled.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“Mum? Shall we take you to see your room?” Penny emerged from the office.

“I’ll go and have a look at the garden,” Seren told them and then dropped down to talk to Maggie, “be nice!” She warned her. She wandered around the extensive garden of the very exclusive - and expensive - care home. She wondered whether David had gotten the fence painted before the weather had turned, whether the plants they’d chosen were thriving. Her phone rang in her pocket and she pulled it out, the screen still cracked. She really needed to get that fixed. “Seren Harrison?”

“Ms Harrison, I have a call for you from Diana Taverner at Thames House. Can I connect you?”

“Uhh-” Seren’s response was a very undignified stutter and the call was connected before she could accept - or refuse - it. “Hello?”

“Ahh, hello. We weren’t introduced previously. I’m Diana Taverner, I hope you don’t mind my calling?” Seren stumbled over her words and formed some sort of non-committing answer. “Good. I was with David Cartwright a couple of weeks ago, has he been in touch?”

“No, why, what’s happened to him?”

“Nothing at all, more's the pity. He’s been getting through designated home assistance at quite a rate,” Seren couldn’t help but smile at the comment. “It’s becoming very frustrating. Apparently, he will only have you helping him.”

“Me?”

“You got along, did you not?” Seren recalled numerous plates and mugs she replaced but the memory was quickly overruled by ones of doing the crossword, drinking tea in the garden and learning how to play chess.

“We did,” she said softly.

“It seems the ties that bind you both mean a great deal to him. He would like me to make you an offer of employment.” Seren held her breath. “If that is acceptable to you?” Seren could almost hear David’s voice in her ear ‘don’t give in easily, make them work for it’. 

“Well, I’d need to know the terms of the contract, of course.” She stammered. Taverner sighed.

“Yes, yes. I’ll have someone send it over to you by courier. They will wait for an immediate return or dismissal though?”

“I’m sure that’ll be fine.”

“I certainly hope so. I do not want to have to deal with this any longer. I must go, I have a meeting with the Prime Minister shortly. I trust the contract will meet your approval, it’s likely you won’t hear from me again so you have both my admiration and commiserations for managing the Cartwright’s. You deserve a bloody damehood.” Seren nearly laughed at Taverner’s exasperated sigh.

“They’re definitely hard work.” She agreed.

“Indeed. Goodbye Ms Harrison, and thank you.” The call rang off before Seren could respond and from the conservatory, Maggie called and waved to her.

She parked in her usual spot. The revolving door of carers hadn’t bothered with the weeds on the driveway, she noted. She knocked and waited patiently, her hand had barely moved from the woodwork when the door flung open.

“Can I help you?” He asked impatiently. Seren sighed.

“Mr Cartwright, it’s Seren. I umm, well you see -” she tried to think of the best way to explain, the best way to re-introduce herself when she saw the corner of David’s mouth pulling into a smile. “You old git!” She scolded him with a grin.

“Couldn’t help myself my dear.” He beamed. “May I?” He held out his arms and she hugged him warmly. “It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back. I take it you’ve been quite the troublemaker?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Seren dear. It’s been quite an ordeal, really.”

“Hmm. Why don’t you offer me a proper apology over tea? I brought cake.”

“Coffee and walnut?”

“Of course. Chess?”

“Naturally. Come on in.” Seren followed him into the house, the familiarity of it washing over her. Despite the break in, she felt safe and calm there. They caught up over cake. Seren found that she was no longer angry. Knowing that she was a fully paid up Park employee, David spoke more openly about his past. She knew there would always be things he would keep from her, but he was able to articulate fully what had happened when they’d been in the barn. He told her of his worries about River not sleeping properly, eating junk and his overall desolate attitude.

“I take it he doesn’t know I’m here?” She asked carefully. As he went to respond, the sound of a car turning on the driveway filtered through from the kitchen window.

“I suspect he does now.” He mused as River came to a stop quietly in the doorway.

Chapter 7

[thyras]

I have been chipping away at this final part of Luminary, and gosh, I do not want it to end. But you bet it is going to be a long one, so saddle up. I am just loving writing sweet Jack Lowden!Sauron rn Here is a little taste, a memory before everything changed:

“We are married,” you murmured, your voice soft as you both caught your breath. The exhaustion of your entwined forms lent itself to lazy smiles and slower, more tender kisses. Your fingers traced the curve of his ear, your touch light as a feather until you playfully pinched the tip. Mairon chuckled, his lips curving into a playful smile as his own fingers danced up your spine, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

“Well, in the elven way at least,” you mused, your lips hovering over his as a brief smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. The kiss you shared was fleeting but heavy with yearning, a depth of hunger that threatened to consume you. It was not enough—this touch of lips. You wanted more, needed more, to devour him completely and sate the aching, carnal desire burning within you.

“Marriage is a strong proclamation,” he said at last, one brow arching in mock scorn. His fingers brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. In your chambers' dim, flickering candlelight, his eyes sought yours, catching a glimpse of the faint, lingering warmth in your aura—the warmth that had captivated him long ago. “I wholly doubt our master would approve.”

A devilish smile played on your lips as you cupped his face, your fingers trailing over his jaw with deliberate intent. “I believe,” you said, your voice laced with mischief, “that the union of his two most loyal servants might offer certain... advantages.”

Mairon laughed softly, his hands sliding to your waist as he drew you closer. “He covets you, my dear Nelyanna,” he murmured, his tone low, a touch possessive. “You are like one of his bloody Silmarils.”

“Do I hear a hint of jealousy in my dear Mairon’s voice?” you teased, your tone light and playful as you propped yourself up on your elbow, gazing down at him. His disapproving look only fueled your mischief, and a soft hum escaped your lips as you lowered your lashes and brushed more of his fiery hair from his face, revealing the green eyes you adored so deeply.

He did not respond immediately, his gaze lingering on your face, tracing every feature as though committing it to memory. There was a heaviness in his silence, an unspoken truth that weighed upon him. He knew he was selfish, his desire to keep you entirely to himself warring with the reality of your shared service. Morgoth had plans for you—great and terrible plans that Mairon could not bring himself to share with you. Fear kept the words locked in his throat. Fear, and the knowledge that you would not resist, so long as he remained at your side.

You loved him too much, and he knew it. You loved him blindly, complacently, willing to carry out your master’s bidding without question as long as Mairon’s presence anchored you.

Morgoth saw this—used it against him. The Dark Lord’s malice was cunning, precise. He showed Mairon visions, horrors that twisted his soul. He revealed futures drenched in blood and despair, futures where Mairon’s failure to keep you here would bring unspeakable ruin. And if your work faltered for even a moment, the punishment was swift and excruciating.

It was torture for Mairon—agony that burned through his flesh and seared his resolve. But you? You remained untouched, unscathed by the Vala’s cruel hand. Morgoth would not harm his prize, and Mairon both hated and envied the sanctity you were afforded. It only deepened his determination to keep you here, at his side, no matter the cost to himself. For as much as he loved you, his fear of losing you—to Morgoth, to his own failures, to the world beyond Angband—consumed him entirely.

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

"Slow Horses" actor @jack.lowden on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert brings his Scottish cynicism to River Cartwright. 5th Sep, 2024.

Although Will Smith rightly won an Emmy for writing Slow Horses, the astonishing cast also deserves recognition. But still, let’s remain hopeful that Gary Oldman’s Emmy for playing the lovably odious Jackson Lamb and Jack Lowden's for playing not-so-slow MI5 operative River Cartwright will happen at some point. 👌

#JackLowden #colbert #SlowHorses #Scottish #colbertlateshow

Posted 19th September 2024