#large square fire pit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

acotarxreader · 21 days ago

Text

Vicious little thing

Eris x Reader

Synopsis: Dressmaker for the Inner Circle was the dream job turn mundane nightmare, all in Court you could never quite warm to. A chance encounter with the infamous son of Autumn leaves you wondering if there's more to life than what it seams (get it lol cause seams not seems)

Warnings: Flirting, banter, Eris pissing Cassian off, angst, descriptions of injury, two males being creepy (but don't worry protective Eris on the scene), jealous Eris, a lil violence and torture, Lucien being an MVP as always

A/N: You guys!! I just have not been in the headspace for writing but I had this written awhile back and I just want to shout out and thank @ninthcircleofprythian @pit-and-the-pen @lady-of-tearshed for helping me out! Let me know as well guys if you have any requests, might get my brain going

----------------------------------------

Of all the places in Night you had accompanied the Inner Circle to, Hewn City was comfortless to you, a specific cold that followed you throughout the Court only amplified off the the dripping stalactites. The slippery cobblestone streets echoed as you moved with slight tension in your steps, fresh supplies tucked under your arm. You practically counted the seconds to when you would reunite with your home deep within the House of Wind, the only place in Night Court with any ounce of warmth for your bones.

A loud bar leaked patrons onto the street, all desperate to escape their daily drivel at the bottom of a keg. Two somewhat large males leaned against the entrance, shouting loud slurs of profanity you ignored while passing, hoping to fade into the background and evade any attention. Unfortunately, you were unsuccessful and soon after felt the eyes of distorted drunken desire bore into your back as your pace quickened.

“Hey, gorgeous where’s the fire?” The voice of pure rust and smoke made the hair on your neck stand up, their footsteps getting louder with the shrinking distance.

“Oh, no manners baby? How refreshing” The other let a slimy sick laugh leave him as his knotty hand finally caught hold of your forearm, whipping you back to face them, the beautiful fabric sailing to the floor to mop up a muddy puddle.

“Leave me the fuck alone!” The lines on your forehead deepened with disgust as you bent down to retrieve the dripping material.

“Or…” The ever so slightly taller one caught you more roughly by the arm before hauling you forward, dragging you into the mouth of an alley, the other acting as reinforcement.

“Let go of me!” Pure panic left your voice, your head darting side to side for an out as your back was pressed into crumbling brick under your vibrating bones.

“You have to give us a few things first baby” One leaned forward into you as you braced, your wrist being crushed by the other fae, their movement suddenly halting with the addition of a new voice.

“I don’t think she’s interested fellas” The three of you found your gaze darting towards the tall figure at the end of the alley, a shoulder resting against one wall, hands casually in his pockets as if he wasn’t about to witness a crime against nature. The grip was released on one of your wrists, the taller male unmoving from in front of you while his accomplice began to square off to the still slightly obscured fae.

Your eyes dropped cautiously down to your side to your bag, trained nimbleness in your hands had you retrieving your fabric sheers, launching them immediately into the thigh of your current captor. A near-deafening roar was released alongside your other arm, the figure at the end of the alley instantly floored the other male with a wave of unseen power.

You scurried down the alley in the opposite direction of the three, your hands covered in a fine layer of blood that you wiped on your trembling thighs. A flush of heat came from behind you as you reached the mouth of the alley. A curious glance had you witness your perpetrators turned to mounds of ash, the sight turning your stomach into waves of unease. The thought of meeting a similar fate had your feet moving again, only to come flush against a wall-like figure.

“Where are you going? No thank you?” Eris towered in front of you, a self-satisfied smile scanning unbeknownst to you for any sign of injury.

“I-um-than-k thank you, General” The words were a rush of syllables followed by a deep curtsey, before you move down the street again, eager to get away from the infamous male. You heard Eris scoff a laugh before he spoke again.

“Well okay then Ice Princess, maybe next time I’ll leave you?”��

“Do you want a medal or something for doing the right thing?” Once again your tracks were stopped but this time by your own brazen words and the silence from behind you. Turning on the ball of your foot you reluctantly faced the future High Lord, his hands still in his pockets, lips pursed in thought. He could kill you for your insolence and no one would challenge him, you were not even sure anyone would notice you missing until their trousers reached their knees.

“Huh, cute-” He smirked, closing the distance between you in a few long strides “-maybe I do want a medal” You found yourself scoffing at his words, a small blaze seemingly igniting in his eyes at the sound.

“Get in line, General” A certain playfulness danced in his eyes at your teasing tone, normally not the response he’d elicit from others. You could feel something subtly different in the air, something missing from the mountain’s mist. “Please, call me Eris, or Savouir, lady’s choice” He outstretched a hand you somewhat hesitantly took, not going unnoticed by the son of Autumn. You realised on contact that it was the everpresent chill that you felt that had made its exit from you, flushes of warmth heating your cells gently. Eris turned your hand over in his, scanning over the callouses and their tinge of fresh maroon.

“A street fighter?” He laughed, eyes tracing the hardened skin. “Dressmaker, for the Night Court” You smiled, taking your hand back, missing the steady pulse of heat his fingers supplied.

“Laborious crowd” His laugh returned the missing warmth to your skin and you found yourself smiling back at the towering male.

“YN?” Your whole body shook at Lucien’s voice across the street, his arms full of freshly purchased supplies for his small apartment in the city. You looked between the two males as Lucien crossed the street to join your side, Eris’s smugness only growing. You and the Prince of Foxes were relatively new friends, his exit from the Spring Court required a whole new wardrobe that you skillfully made.

“Stay away from her Eris” “Oh brother, save us the martyr act” He sighed in almost boredom, amber gaze landing back on you where you could have sworn it softened, no matter how brief. That gentle element died when Lucien’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to his side.

“Is that blood on you YN?!” the closer proximity opened you to Lucien’s full mother-hen inspection.

“Yes it is but not hers, quite the vicious little thing you have here” The air of self-righteousness returned to Eris, his best shield to whatever was bubbling deep beneath.

“Thimble, what happened?” You noticed Eris subtle flinch at Lucien’s pet name for you as he attempted to ignore his brother's presence altogether. You hated the nickname, it made you feel small, and inexperienced, despite being older than Lucien. It began when he remarked on the coarseness of your hands on his skin during a fitting, suggesting a thimble may stave off further damage. You would never see the point in covering what your years of experience had rewarded you with, the scars on your hands were evidence of a master at work, and a thimble would only hide away your efforts although that was a recurring theme for you in the Night Court you felt.

“Thimble seems an odd nickname, aren’t they supposed to protect you from pricks? And yet here you are Lucien” Your head lowered slightly to hide the deep smirk growing across your face at Eris’s dig, Lucien unable to continue to ignore him.

“I’ll have you kn-” “-Lucien, we have to get back, I’m not finished with a dress” You cut across any possible rebuttal, eager to get out of the thick air between the two brothers, Lucien smiled softly at you before glaring back at Eris. You tilted your head to Eris again in an almost bow, twisting Lucien’s stomach as you began your fruitless journey back to Nesta.

“Very good little lapdog Lucien, I’d watch her around scissors” He called after the two of you, his own amusement radiating from his voice.

The ball was organised chaos at best, swelling music and overserved fae had you hiding out in the corner of the venue. Not your normal scene however Nesta had begged you to come, if only to witness your beautiful work in action. You had sacrificed one of Feyre’s many dresses as donor fabric to patch together what you could of Nesta’s outfit, neglecting to tell her that of course.

“YN, this is so borrrrring” Nesta found you through the crowds, sneaking away from her role at the dais alongside her sister. It had been a few hours since the incident, a glass of wine only taking a sliver of the tension you felt about it from you.

“Don’t worry Nesta, hopefully it won’t be much lo…” you trailed off, your eyes snagging on Eris across the vast dance floor as he both dazzled and terrified the participants in the conversation he held.

“At least he’s not bad to look at” Nesta tilted her head to the side, inspecting her mission with curiosity as he glided through the crowd.

“Lucien says he’s torturous”

“Bet he’s good in bed” You elbowed her for her comment as she laughed, the whole conversation making you feel like giddy children.

“Perhaps he’ll make a good pallet cleanser from Cassian” she added. “Cassian who’s trying to melt him with his eyes right now, right?” You grinned, Nesta taking a stolen glance at the slowly boiling Illyrian. When Nesta wanted something, she got it and this very core defining personality trait of hers terrified you. You had been on board with the plan up until your own encounter with the heir and yet now you found yourself empathetic to Cassian’s jealousy, no matter how unfounded you felt it may be. The very voice that saved you earlier pulled your attention back into the room.

“Hello again YN, I was wondering-” “-Who your friend is? Eris, have I really to remind you of my person” Nesta tone leeched a pure sultry decorum you would never be able to mirror. Her body stood slightly in front of you, a hand extended to reacquaint herself with the High Fae, new beats of jealousy pulsed in your veins as they made contact. Your skin crawled and boiled all at once, further tension only being added by Cassian's surveying across the floor.

“Go find something to busy yourself with YN” Her voice was firm but said with a smile, forever toeing the line between friend and employer. You watched as Nesta masterfully led Eris to the dance floor and began to light the room ablaze with her ease of movement. The room watched on as the two slotted into one another like a lock and a key, your eyes landed on your shoes, anywhere but on the scene in front of you.

“C’mon dear friend, let's see your moves” You looked at the unfurled hand of your dear new friend in front of you, Lucien’s soft smile accompanying it. You laughed lightly as you allowed him to lead you to the dancefloor.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather dance with Elain?”

“But I’d miss you stepping on my toes” he teased as your head tilted back and laughed, despite knowing the answer to your question was of course yes. Now and then while being swirled by the Prince of Foxes, your eyes would cross the path of Eris’s before Nesta stole back the attention. A successful mission up until Cassian’s jealousy could no longer be snuffed out.

—--------------------------------------------------

The gentle pitter-patter of drizzle off the window pane of your workspace filled the room, your hands busy at work, humming along to a tune you heard weeks ago while dancing with Lucien. Back home in the warmest of colds available to you, squirrelled away in mounds of fabric and projects.

Your hands stilled at the din of distant shouting many floors up through the house. Often you’d ignore any rumblings from upstairs but the familiar sound of a male you’d spent your time trying to forget had your curious feet wandering in the direction of the source.

“You’re incredulous!” “No, you are!” You peeked through the gap in the huge door that led to one of the grand dining rooms, the two brothers in a stand-off across the large oak table, Rhysand glaring between the two.

“And you couldn’t have stopped our dear darling father from travelling to Briallyn’s continent?!” Lucien barked, the table shaking slightly. Cassian matched Lucien’s scowl towards Eris, who only allowed a sickly laugh to leave him.

“And expose myself and this little alliance? I don’t think so little brother! Alec, our father's dear advisor is already getting too curious.”

“Oh no, nothing to inconvenience yourself!” You flinched slightly at Lucien’s razor-like tone.

“I have inconvenienced myself every day for you!” Eris’s hand shot forward in a dramatic gesture, knocking the large goblet of wine across the table, soaking Lucien as he leapt up from the cold.

“Fuck! You did that on purpose!” He reached for his napkin to blot the deep stain with no success, Eris now also standing in his own defence.

“It was an accident, much like your birth, do as I did and make peace with it!” Eris grinned until Lucien swished a wrist, a small ball of flame leaving his fingertips, singeing the jacket and waistband of Eris’s immaculate suit.

“Lucien!”

“It was an accident” Lucien mimicked, Rhysand now finding his own feet, feeling grateful not to have had any biological brothers.

“Enough! We must leave to meet the other High Lords in an hour and you two are squabbling like children! Lucien, go home and find a new pair of trousers-” Lucien very much looked the role of scolded schoolchild as he winnowed out before further reprimanding “- and you-” Rhysand turned full attention to Eris, who only rolled his shoulders back to accompany a raised eyebrow “-you go and find a curtain or something to wear because if you fuck this meeting up, I will kill you where you stand”

“Aww do you promise-” Eris batted his eyelashes in faux excitement “-I don’t take orders from you”

“Fine, go smelling like a bonfire, see if Rhys and I care” Cassian shot out.

“Perhaps I left some clothes here after I visited with Nesta the other night” Cassian practically leapt from his chair, Rhysand catching hold of his forearm leaving Eris unshaken.

“Eris, go be anywhere but here”

“I’d suggest down on your deathbed, I can help you” Cassian chewed out accompanying Rhysand’s order.

“The only place I’d go down on is the lovely Nesta” Rhysand released Cassian in an instant, springing the warrior over the table, your instinct having you whip the door back on its hinges, the entrance stilling Cassian in confusion as he caught Eris’s collar.

“I’ll help make something!” You rushed out, unsure of why you were eager to rescue Eris even if it gave away your eavesdropping.

“YN, know your place” Rhysand warned.

“I mean- c’mon S-sir you have to leave soon and let's be honest, there’ll be questions about why a lord of fire is-is emm burned…or why his face is in pieces for that matter” You watched Cassian release the wrinkled collar, exhaling deeply and jump from the dining table to the floor before striding over to you.

“At least stab him a few times with pins”

“Deal” you laughed before standing aside in the doorway for Cassian and Rhysand to pass.

After arriving at your workroom, a flush of self-conscious energy rushed you at the mess you had been living and working in, now under the scrutiny of the son of Autumn. Towers of discarded and active projects cast shadows along the stone of the space, his eyes inspecting the smaller details of the room as you pulled out fabric rolls from the wall. You couldn’t help but notice the warmth in the tall shadows not there previously, its addictive nature nipping at your skin.

“Jacket” You ordered, a hand out to take the sooty material, Eris obliging wholeheartedly, surprising even himself. He watched you inspect it closely, attempting to hide his wonder of you as you sighed. He thought how he would very much love to watch you work, how he may very well do anything you asked of him and how foreign that very feeling was. “Sloppy stitching, conjured I suppose not handmade?” He nodded in confirmation to your question, doing his best to hide his amazement at your assessment.

“I don’t think this is your colour-” “-Excuse you, this green is one of my court colours, how can it not be my colour?” Eris' anger startled you, snapping you out of your dressmaker autopilot, remembering your company. “Sorry-I emm- not your tone shall we say” Your panicked voice was only silenced by a laugh from Eris.

“Just kidding YN, I’m not offended” “Just a prick” You whispered to yourself as you slipped a pin cushion over your wrist, Eris smiling from behind you. You pointed at the step riser in the corner of the room for Eris to stand on as you gathered your treasure trove of supplies.

“Take off your trousers” You threaded the soft measuring tape through your fingers from behind him.

“Not going to buy me dinner first?” He raised his eyebrow to you with a grin you felt that maybe not everyone got to see, his hands undoing what was left of the waistband before he shook off the fragile fabric, leaving him in his undergarments. You took a deep quiet breath before sinking to crouch alongside him, measuring the length of his leg.

“On your knees so soon” You stood instantly again, pushing him playfully, stilling almost as soon as you had moved.

“Sorry I-” “-I won’t bite you YN, not unless you ask” he winked, causing you to bite the inside of your cheek begging your body not to grin back, instead just resuming your measurements. “I should have let Cassian kill you” You whispered by his calf as he looked down at you.

“There she is, there’s who’s fun to play with” You could hear his smile, just as you took a pin from the holder strapped to your wrist, poking him into his ankle. He hissed, rolling his ankle slightly away from you as you stood again.

“That was for the Nesta comments” You put the pin into the cuff of your sleeve, retrieving your scissors and cutting strips of a deep red fabric without the measure, all the knowledge within your head accompanied with years of skill.

“I was just bored and the big bat is an easy target. I have no intentions of pursuing Lady Death, don’t be jealous” He watched you in the mirror as if afraid to blink and you’d disappear. You forced your focus closer to your cutting, Eris slipping from the step to stalk closer to you.

“Why would I be jealous? I don't even know you” “Odd, I feel like I know you… but regardless, I’d imagine you’d be jealous if your relationship with my darling brother isn’t all you want it to be” You whipped around to him in shock, scissors still in hand. Eris put his hands up in faux surrender while glancing at the scissors, your eyes rolling again, placing the instrument behind you.

“What? Me and Lucien?” You laughed wholeheartedly, Eris tilting his head to the sound, stepping from the riser.

“No?” “Now who’s jealous?” he only scoffed at you in reply.

“Heirs do not get jealous, they get what they want” His somewhat serious tone sent a shiver down your spine, the distance seemingly shrinking between you.

“And what does this heir want?” “Hmm” he hummed leaning forward into the gap, that tempting heat pulling you towards him, every cell screaming for the temperature in your skin to increase, to meet with his, to reach inferno.

“YN, do you have a spare-what’s going on in here?” Lucien stood in the doorway, his suit jacket in his hand, a missing button by the collar.

“Ever the best for timing dear brother” Eris squared his stance, turning to face his kin as you wished the earth to swallow you whole.

“Let's not get into it in front of the Lady.-” Lucien rolled his shoulders back, unshaken by the sharp tone of his brother “-Thimble, please could you reattach this button? It was the one I used magic to affix and you were right, it didn’t hold” You gave a soft smile, taking it from his hands, reluctantly crossing the path between the two.

“Come, dear brother, leave my lovely YN to work” Lucien stood back in the doorway to leave space for Eris to pass. A rush of intense heat radiated from Eris at his brother's endearment towards you, his knuckles cracking as fists formed.

“Won’t you need me for the rest of the fitting?” He looked at you, eyes asking you to beg him to stay.

“I-” “-YN is used to finishing projects down here without the muse, she works better alone right YN?” You nodded slightly at Lucien, his voice no longer toeing the line between friend and employer, the latter taking full effect. You sank back to your work table, tacking together the fabric as Lucien guided Eris away from you, Eris slipped back on the remnants of his trousers before reluctantly leaving. The cold rushed to your bones again as the faint sound of their bickering filled the halls.

—-------------------------------

Two weeks later

Thoughts of Eris crossed your mind while looking down on the vast woodland of coppers and bronze through a window taller than him. The flickers of rust and chestnut hues pulled you towards them like a moth to flame. You had never been in an environment like it, so famously cold but surprisingly warming to your inner world. Beron had insisted on holding a dinner with Night Court in his home, still believing his trip to Briallyn’s continent was undiscovered.

“Okay, we go, we hear what nonsense he’s peddling and we compare notes when we get home?” The Inner circle nodded in agreement to their High Lord as he knotted his cufflink into place before outstretching the same hand for you to adjust. Just as quick Nesta called for your attention as Azriel covered a more specific game plan. Nesta had insisted you accompany her, and help to ready her for the meeting, no matter how many times you reminded her that that was very much so not part of your job.

“It's fine YN stop fidgeting!” She snapped at you, tugging the end of her dress from your grip before she leapt from the riser to take Cassian’s arm as they moved to leave for dinner. You knew she didn’t mean to take you so sharply, she was just stressed, they were all stressed. They were always stressed, they never meant to snap at you, or at least that's what you convinced yourself of.

“We should have left you home where you would be safe” Lucien said softly, pulling you from the step riser again, his thumb sweeping over the back of your hand. You couldn’t help but notice how different his touch was from Eris, and how you wished it was him with you now not Lucien.

“Stay here YN, I hate it here as much as you, I’ll be as quick as I can back to you” He gave another smile before following the Inner Circle, closing the heavy door behind him. Did you hate it here, you wondered as you wandered around the room at the edge of Forest House, secluded away as you always were in these venues.

You couldn’t help but listen to a vibrant voice in the back of your mind, beckoning you to come out and play.

The distant echos of grandeur filled the halls from the dining room at the opposite end of the hall as you crept down the stoneway in the opposite direction. Before realising it, you step to a servant entrance of the grand house, whispers of Autumn guiding you through a place so new yet familiar. Your fingertips hardly made contact with the bronze of the handle before a large weight was thrown deep into your side. Overwhelming, almost suffocating heat swallowed the screams you shrieked, accompanied by a heavy hand as all pulled you from the hallway to an adjacent hallway pantry.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Eris released his hold on you, a flicker of flame leaking from his hand illuminating the closet. You doubled over, arms swaddling your stomach as you caught the breath shocked out of you. Eris's characteristic ironing-board-like posture softened at the sight.

“I-I didn’t mean to frighten you”

“What-what the-” Eris’s hand reached for your arm, worry radiating before you cut off the action “-what the fuck is wrong with you?! You don’t just grab someone like that!” You righted yourself again, hands finding your hips as the oxygen found your lungs again.

“Oh, you’re okay, I thought you lost your damn fucking mind coming here!” unfamiliar sharpness crossed his tongue as you scoffed at his heated whisper.

“I’m here working” “Working? Those morons have no idea what bringing you here could cause!” His hands ran through his hair in frustration, the light flickering with the movement.

“I won’t cause anything!-” You watched him drag his hands from his hair down his face in pure exasperation “-except it seems a headache for you” You grinned and as much as he fought it, he mirrored you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the dinner?” “And aren’t you supposed to be in your cave of endless fabric?” You rolled your eyes at his rebuttal, moving to pass him only to have a soft touch take hold of your arm. The thud of a palm-sized book tumbling out of his pocket had both your gazes dropping. Surprisingly, you were first to retrieve the ornate book, its cover decorated with expansive drawings of the wood surrounding the Forest House.

“Your diary?” You grinned, offering it back to him.

“It’s actually…it’s actually nothing” You pulled it back into you at his ever so slightly panicked tone.

“So it is your diary?” You laughed gently, a slight rush of red growing across the Prince of Autumn's cheeks.

“Its-its a collection of..of poetry I’m working on” He admitted, fighting his way through growing embarrassment as his eyes fixated on the leather in your hand. You smiled down again at the cover, at the idea of a softer Eris locked behind these pages, a glimpse into his world.

“We have to get you out of here” He said abruptly, as if eager to shift topics away from his hidden hobby. “Fine, I’ll ask Lucien to bring me back there” A pulse of heat radiated between you.

“I’ll bring you”

“Won’t that impact the whole double agent incognito thing” You smirked, trying your best to not look down towards his gentle hold on you.

“I’m sure if I murdered Lucien that would impact things more”

“Remember Eris, I told you that shade of green wasn’t your colour” Silence swaddled the forgotten closet.

“That’s the first time you’ve said my name” The sound of his moniker sent Eris’s grip tightening slightly on your arm. “I’m sorry, was it saviour you preferred?” You hardly whispered, the swift movement that followed had your back pressed into the adjacent wall, Eris’s hand resting above your head, trapping you in the addictive warmth.

“As long as I’m the one you call for, I don’t care what you call me” he allowed himself to confess.

“This feels like a mistake”

“So was trying to hurt you, I enjoyed every lick of flame that torched those males YN and if it had been any other male other than my brother to dance with you that night they would have met a similar fate” Eris’s smoky voice admitted quietly, amber eyes trapping you in their heat. A warm palm found its way to your waist, ushering you closer to the High Fae behind the walls of an enemy Court.

“So you were jealous?” “Shut up and let me kiss you” Every drop of your blood was heated with the perfect pressure that met your lips and your hand instinctively took a fistful of his shirt pulling him tighter into you. You felt his fingers knot deeply into your hair as his other hand tightened its grip, your mouths slotting over one another in perfect synchronicity.

“You’re so delicate YN, your Court’s best kept secret and this world's greatest beauty, I feel like a moth to your flame-” Eris’s voice came out husky, starved for your touch “-I couldn’t explain it to myself why I felt like walking around that cursed city that day, the Mother must have known I’d meet you, that I would be drawn to you, that I burn for you” his thumb brushed over your cheek as you rested your head in the palm of his hand. A rush of cold met your skin as Eris fully pulled from you, your balance rocking slightly.

“Did-did I do something?” Eris sighed at your words, a hand tracing through his hair before he turned to face you, eyes ablaze.

“I-I really feel like you may be worth every risk in this entire world but I am not and I will not risk your safety for my own desire”

“I can protect myself Eris” “Not from what would seek you out because of me” The both of you stayed in studied silence for a moment, just observing one another and the energy shift between you both.

“My court will protect me” a low sound growled from Eris's throat in response to you.

“You mean my brother will protect you? The others care not for anyone but those in their precious inner sanctum”

“That’s not true, I’m their friend!” You snapped back, your voice rising above a crackled whisper in anger. The words pinged an idea directly into Eris’s head, his way to push you away. “You’re their employee! They take you for granted! You can’t honestly say they treat you well can you? Do you think they’d keep you around if you lost your use to them? Their loyalty is conditional, they can’t be relied on!” A truth you frequently ignored washed over you, too much to take.

“You’ve been away from the table too long General, I must return to work” You offered the almost forgotten book in your hands back to him, his eyes only moving from the binding to your eyes. You scoffed again before moving as quickly as he had brought you to this secluded closet, rushing your away from the heat you wanted to be swaddled in forever. You tucked the tiny book into your sock beneath your dress, perhaps that was his goodbye gift to you you thought. Your path was then interrupted around the corner of the secret haven by the feeling of your body crashing into the solid pushback of metal, your hips meeting the plush carpet.

“What do we have here?” You looked up through your eyelashes at the striking male, his broad shoulders shrouded in thick copper metal, the Autumn court of arms across his breast.

You pushed up off the ground, doing your best to ignore your bruised tailbone. The broad, older male scanned you, his eyes snagging on your Court’s emblem stitched into your sleeve.

“And tell me, what would a member of the Night Court be doing out of the designated area?”

“I-I was looking for-for the bathroom” He towered over you, the smell of soot and tinder filling your airways, thick enough to choke on. He stretched out a gloved hand, lights flickering in his eyes like a sparking fire. Before you could take his hand, they curled around your wrist, hauling you forward.

“And yet, I don't believe you” razor words said with a razor grin nicked at your nerves beneath your uniform.

“Would-would I lie to you sir?” You sank into the lowest curtsey you could manage while still tethered to the burly male. You could feel your fingertips turn blue as the gloved hand took a tighter hold, your voice fighting not to croak as you spoke again.

“I-I must return to my High Lord”

“I don’t think so, this little exploration of yours must be reported” Alec snarled down at you, flicking his wrist sending yours back in a conflicting direction, a small yelp leaving your throat. “YN?” The two of you looked to find Lucien, stunned expression turning steely as he looked towards the hold a member of his former Court held on your wrist. He made short work of the distance between you, his warmed hand taking your opposite wrist.

“Unhand this Lady!” He barked.

“Lady? She is staff, staff that was where she shouldn’t have been!” Your head dipped at the ever-present reminder of your differences. Lucien scanned you briefly, a subtly deep intake of air had the scent of Autumn wind and campfire flooding his senses, his brother's scent on you.

“I perhaps agree with you for once-” Lucien whispered down to you, words tainted with disappointment “-but regardless, she will come with me and her High Lord will take care of matters” Alec's grip only tightened further as Lucien attempted to pull you to his side, another wince decorating your face.

“Not before my High Lord has a chance to examine what she may have learned”

“What was I going to learn in the bathroom, his Lordship's haircare routine?” Your words surprised you as much as anyone but not as much as the feeling of cracked leather meeting the side of your face, knocking you down to the plush carpet, out of Luciens hold. The side of your cheek felt as though it instantly began to swell, it matched your eyes as tears threatened to fall over the rim. You didn’t stay down for long, Alec hauling you back to your feet by your cracking wrist joint. You could feel the blood run from your lips, your skin fighting to stitch together and failing. Black blotted your vision competing for the greatest pain with your wrist.

“This female is to be brought before the Lord of Autumn. You have no authority here, run along to your master, she comes with me” That’s all you could hear before the black blots overtook the beautiful brass and copper of the Court of Autumn, no longer able to support your own weight.

—-----------

The low crackle of a cruel flame filled your ears as an unnatural chill stretched from the icy flame. Your eyes flickered like the fire across from your cell, doing your best to come around from the sadistic male’s brutality. The cracking of brickwork met your back as you leaned into it, uncurling your legs from the ball of protection you had attempted to make. The depth of Forest House, far far away from the kind forest spirit voices that beckoned you to play, now replaced with the pained groans of other enemies to Autumn.

“Wakey wakey” You rolled your head along the stone, supporting its weight as you looked to see the ever-feared Lord of Autumn standing on the other side of the brass caging. The metal shuddered as the guards opened them for their master. You lowered your head slightly, trying to win any favour with Beron, his low laugh your reward.

“Anything to say for yourself?” You looked back up, fear stealing your voice as he stepped in closer, your bones rattling lowly off the stone beneath you.

“No? Funny, you seem to have plenty of thoughts to write about” “Ex-excuse me, Lord?” You said quietly, your eyes then landing on the pocket-sized notebook in his cruel hands. You looked between it and its new holder, evident panic on your face, quickly exchanged for pure pain as the Lord of Autumn suddenly shot forward, pressing your body into the cold stone, his grip clutching your throat.

“Beautiful sonnets and poems and prose, all with the very strong theme of escaping my beautiful court, destroying my beautiful legacy, running off with a beautiful forbidden creature, an accomplice of yours?” His even tone of pure ice contradicted the flaming heat beating through his hands to your throat. He’d kill his heir for his words, destroy him, torture him, make him beg, the idea of any of those outcomes unthinkable to you.

“Do not, DO NOT try to deny it” He tried again, crushing some air from your windpipe free.

“Father!” Eris bellowed suddenly from behind, a small ease in pressure on your skin.

“Make yourself scarce Eris, I’m busy” His blackened eyes didn’t leave your bloodshot ones.

“What are her charges?” Eris tried his best to keep the desperate tone at bay, Beron only held out the tiny notebook to his side, his other hand still gripping you. You watched as Eris turned practically to match the colour of your own oxygen-starved skin.

“And she-she has admitted to that being hers?” “She was about to before your interruption!” He barked back at his eldest son, before allowing enough air into your lungs so you may speak. You looked over his shoulder to the Heir of Autumn, his eyes sunken in from worry or lack of sleep or both, you weren’t sure. You weren’t even sure how long you had been down there, how long before your Court would come for you if they even would come. These questions plagued you endlessly and now you were finally about to meet your end, your answer of who would come if you really needed help answered right in front of you in the russet eyes of a male you took stolen moments with. The male who believed himself not worthy of anything other than pain. You would not die with him believing this.

“It’s min-” Your rasped lie cut off a flush of heat pulsating around the entire cell, Beron’s gaze snapping back to his son, a full release of pressure met your throat, your body sank to the ground, muscles screaming out for the rush of returning oxygen. You propped yourself up on your well-worn hands, fighting away blurry vision. Eris stood, shoulders settled back, flames like globes in his hands.

“Alec, that’s Alec’s, there's more in his quarters. Go search them and you’ll see, no need to declare war with Night Court by slaughtering one of their courtiers” Pure confidence beamed from Eris, a grin then decorating his face as his father tilted his head in thought.

“Think about it Father, it has to be someone with more access than a dressmaker? Someone with the intelligence to weave plots into poems, do you really think that a female would be capable of such?” Your heavy breath remained down towards the brick floor you looked down to, its small stones breaking away and burying into your palms and knees. You knew he saw you as more than that, and you trusted that he saw you as more than your court saw you as. You trusted him you realised. You heard Beron hum in quiet contemplation before looking back towards you, your hair matted in knots, uniform in tatters, the perfect image of weakness he believed all females had. Beron gestured quickly with his chin, his armed guards launching into action to search the quarters, no doubt going to find carefully planted prose and poems, damming in their divinity.

“A dressmaker?” Beron questioned you once again, his head tilting as you nodded gently towards the stone, unable to lift your dizzying head.

“Useless skill” He spat down before sinking a heavy, steel-soled boot flush with your right hand. Blood rushed to your ears as the little oxygen in your lungs escaped as a deafening roar, drowning out the sound of your breaking bones. The ring of bruises gifted to you by Alec on your other wrist clutched your shattered hand into your chest.

“You may finish her off Eris, your reward for your observant nature, I must see to the search” He smirked at his son who fought to keep his mouth from hanging open and flame from fleeing his fists. Beron sank into the fire, leaving his heir and his prisoner. Eris crashed to your side, his warm hands supporting your shoulders as you cried out.

“I’m sorry YN, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry” He whispered into your hair, your sobs drowning in his chest. A swirl of comforting flame swaddled you both as Eris pulled you both through the heat to the outskirts of the wood surrounding Forest House.

The Forest air was as refreshing as any of the elements as you landed gently in the clearing, Eris’s arms supporting your weight as he clung you into him.

“They’ll be here soon my love” He gave a small saddened smile into the crown of your hair, causing you to pull back to look up at him.

“What?” You managed, the movement of even speaking amplifying the pain in your digits. Another whoosh of air filled the clearing, Lucien quick to your side accompanied by Azriel, colour draining from the Shadowsinger’s face at the overly familiar sight of your hands.

“Go with them YN, they’ll protect you” Eris attempted another smile as you looked from him to his brother, who tried and failed to hide his worry.

“I want- I want to stay with you Eris” “Look at what happens when you stay with me YN, nothing good ever comes from this place” “But you came from this place” You cried out, your legs trembling again, Eris’s arm slipped around your waist again, Lucien unfamiliar with this side of his brother.

“I told you I’m only going to bring you pain” “And I-I told you green wasn’t one of your colours, we can both be wrong sometimes” You laughed lightly through your tears, fighting your instincts to look down at your hands. Eris brushed a thumb over your cheek, keeping a stray tear from falling before pressing his lips to your forehead.

“I have to leave you YN, I have to make sure Alec learns his lesson, the same one I will teach my father one day and anyone who dares to harm you” He searched through your eyes before stepping back, allowing Lucien to wrap his arm around you to support your body, Azriel placing a small cloth over your hand to shield you from the full extent of the damage. Eris traced the rings of bruising on your uncovered wrist, further cementing his decision. Azriel’s eyes scanned, watching for signs you had all been discovered and finding the distant sounds of guards beginning to storm towards them.

“We have to go” Azriel ordered, Eris and Lucien both nodding.

“Eris, please, please come with us” You begged through sobs.

“One day YN, one day I’ll show you this Court when it’s something I’m proud of, I’ll show you all of who I am, when it’s something I’m proud of” He brought the back of your hand to his lips, only to have you suddenly pull it back before launching forward towards him. His lips on yours felt like a warm hearth, like home, his soothing heat warming the world you always thought was meant to be cold.

“I was jealous” He admitted with his signature smirk as he parted from you, his hand running down your tangled hair receiving a light laugh from you as Lucien reluctantly pulled you back.

“We have to go, they’re close” Azriel took your weight, hesitantly taking you some distance away from Eris, leaving Lucien and Eris with some space between them.

“I will look after your mate brother” Eris only nodded in return before stealing another glance at you and sinking into flame.

--------------------------------------------------

Whatcha think? Hehehehe

409 notes · View notes

bloodstained-porcelain-doll · 3 months ago

Text

The Kneeling Queen, ch 1 - Aemond Targaryen x OC

Read on AO3

Summary: Aemond Targaryen and Maelessa Velaryon were childhood lovers. They were each other's only comfort in a world full of darkness. When they grew up, their love blossomed until they were the only thing the other cared about. Their lives get increasingly complicated due to the fact that they're supposed to be on opposite sides of the war. Will their love survive or will it burn to ash as the war ensues? Warnings: None for this chapter, but this fic will contain violence, rough and dirty sex, Dom Aemond, mutilation, degradation, war, canonical and non canonical character deaths, non canonical dragons, mentions of rape... it gets dark at times.

Chapter 1 - Childhood Lovers

Maelessa Velaryon ran to him inside the dragonpit, after the boy she cared about most.

”Aemond, don’t go with them!” she cried, knowing full well that Aegon and the other children had hid a pig inside the tunnel, that they were going to pull a mean prank on Aemond. Just because he didn’t have a dragon. “Aemond! Let’s go see the other dragons instead,” she urged. Aemond didn’t listen, instead he followed his brother. Aegon shot a glare back at Maelessa who stared daggers into him.

When they revealed the pig, the Pink Dread, they called it, Aemond didn’t say a word. He was stoic, his face didn’t betray his hurt. But Maelessa knew him better than all the other children, she felt his pain and knew how bad it broke his heart to be toyed with like this.

“You’re all mean!” she screamed at the other kids, her voice echoing through the pit. “Come on, Aemond, let’s go,” she urged, reaching for his hand. This time he followed her, taking her hand and following her out. Only when they were far enough away from everyone else did he let his tears show. Maelessa would never make fun of him, she sat with him on the cliff until his tears dried, holding his hand.

The next day she cursed her brothers. Jace and Luke were idiots, she screamed, they were nothing but mean bullies and Aemond didn’t deserve to be treated that way.

“He calls us bastards!” Her older brother defended himself.

“We are bastards, Jace, look at us! Telling the truth isn’t a crime,” she insisted, shoving him in the chest before running off again. Her mother, who had just given birth to her third son, her fourth child, didn’t like how much time Maelessa spent running around the castle with Aemond. She much preferred when Maelessa spent time with her own siblings, studying Valyrian and history.

Maelessa liked it best when Aemond taught her Valyrian though, his accent was beautiful and he was a good teacher. He also taught her how to fight in secret, the two of them slipping away to the garden to practise sword fighting. She would often sneak into his chamber at night and they would practise Valyrian together and braid each other’s hair. Aemond would tell her fantastical stories and she often fell asleep on the foot end of his bed listening to his calming voice, then the guards found them together in the mornings. He was her favourite person in the world, and when they weren’t together, he was often all she could think about.

***

When Ser Harwin had died, Maelessa ran away in the middle of the night. Her mother sent guards to look for her, and dragons were sent out to help the search. Her mother flew on Syrax and Jace on Vermax, looking for her everywhere, and the guards roamed through the forests. Yet it was Aemond who found her. He pulled down the hood of his cloak and leaned against the wall of the dog training yard in Cobbler’s square.

“Thought I’d find you here, Maelītsos,” he said quietly.

”There’s nowhere I can hide from you,” she mumbled, burying her head in Rocco’s fur. Rocco was a large brown dog that she had helped train since he was six weeks old.

“No. It’s foolish of you to come here. Though I suppose you blend in rather well,” he japed. She sniffled and sobbed.

“Someone murdered him, Aemond. Spontaneous fire in Harrenhal? Not likely.”

“You shouldn’t mourn in public for a man your mother claims to have no relation to. Time to go home,” he said and kicked himself off the wall, extending his hand. She wanted to stay here and sulk, cry until she couldn’t feel sadness anymore, seeking comfort in her four legged friends’ soft fur. But she took Aemond’s hand and followed him without protest back to the castle. She kept her head down so that people wouldn’t see her tears.

Aemond sat them down on a bench in the courtyard and wiped her tears. In his arms, the sadness felt less constricting, her chest felt lighter and more free. She inhaled the scent of him, calming her body even more. He always smelled good, her prince.

“It’s alright to be sad. Your tears are safe with me, Mae. But be smart. It was foolish of you to leave the Red Keep in your situation.”

“You’re right, I know,” she said and wiped her tears.

With a scream, Syrax crashed down in the courtyard and Rhaenyra came running towards them.

“Where have you been!?” she shouted. Maelessa didn’t answer. “Aemond, where was she?”

“Does it matter? I brought her back.”

“How did you find her?”

“There’s nowhere she can hide from me.” Aemond was proud of his statement, but Rhaenyra looked unimpressed.

“Thank you. You may leave.” But Aemond didn’t leave. He remained calm as ever, sitting quietly by Maelessa’s side. “That means leave, Aemond!” Rhaenyra clarified as if he was an imbecile. He smiled menacingly.

“I think you’ll find even less luck in speaking with Maelītsos if you force me away from her,” he mocked, purposefully using the pet name that Rhaneyra hated. Little Mae. Maelessa however loved every single pet name Aemond made up for her. The more names he gave her, the more singled out and cherished she felt by him.

Maelessa’s family were now moving to Dragonstone. She wasn’t quite sure why, if it had to do with the death of Harwin or if it was something else. She knew rumours circled the keep, rumours harmful to her family, but her mother didn’t reveal much to her children, saying they were too young to understand. Maelessa didn’t want to leave, though. She fought her mother tooth and nail, screaming that she refused to go. To her surprise, Alicent was very hospitable, telling Rhaenyra and Laenor that she was welcome to stay here with them. After much fighting, Maelessa’s parents had finally agreed to let her stay. After all, her grandsire king Viserys was here, and he still ruled, so what harm could come to her?

***

After her aunt Laena Velaryon passed, a funeral had been held on Driftmark. Maelessa had arrived with Aemond and his family, and her own family had come as well. Tears had been shed, but she felt she couldn’t quite grieve for someone she barely knew. In the night, when Rhaenyra sent her children to bed, Aemond had stopped the girl from going to her chamber and instead brought her outside, telling her to follow him on an adventure.

Maelessa watched in awe as Aemond climbed atop the green giant beast of a dragon. Vhagar had threatened to rain fire on him but he had stood his ground, and the dragon had rewarded him for it. She ran backwards as the dragon lunged, sand whirring into her eyes as the dragon stomped off the ground and took flight. She listened to Aemonds screams as Vhagar took off with him. For a moment it seemed he would fall off, but he had managed to steady himself, climbing back into the saddle.

Maelessa clapped her hands and cheered, then the pair disappeared from her sight, beyond the clouds. She watched and waited for a long time before they returned, this time the scream from Aemond wasn’t one of fear, but of triumph. They landed next to her and Aemond climbed off, running to pick Maelessa off the ground and spin her around in the air in cheer joy. He finally had a dragon, and not just any dragon. The biggest one known to them, and the fiercest war dragon. The two children laughed as they walked hand in hand into the cave.

Rhaena and Baela were in there with Jace and Luke, having been woken up from the noises of Aemond claiming Vhagar. Maelessa felt a little bad, because she knew Rhaena had wanted to claim Vhagar since she was her late mother’s dragon. But dragons chose their riders, they couldn’t be stolen. If Vhagar didn’t want Aemond to claim her, he would be dead. Which is why it angered her so when her cousins accused him of stealing Vhagar.

Her cousins lunged first, attacking Aemond. She yelled at them to stop, even running forward to hit them back, but Aemond had no issue battling off the two angry girls. When her brothers Jace and Luke joined in though, the fight became unfair. Aemond was strong and already a skilled fighter for his young age, but four against two were bad odds. Maelessa fought her own siblings in Aemond defence, trying to hold them back. Baela and Rhaena retreated, watching as the fight grew meaner and harder. Aemond once again taunted the boys for being bastards, and Luke was the only one who didn’t know that he was right. One of them threw sand in Aemond’s face, causing him to stumble. Then Luke grabbed the knife and lunged.

Before Maelessa could scream at him to stop, he had slashed the knife across Aemond’s face and he fell to his knees screaming in agonising pain. Maelessa ran to him, hunching over him to comfort him, shocked at the blood running through his fingers. A knight came running, way too late to break up the fight. She refused to let go of Aemond’s arm as they were all led back into the castle. She watched with tears running down her cheeks as a Maester stitched him up, sewing over his eye.

He looked terrifying, red bloody stitches going from his cheek to his forehead. The room filled up with knights and family members, the king, the queen and her protectors, Lord Corlys and princess Rhaenys, as well as Maelessa’s own mother and Daemon. Panic spread through the room as the adults tried to make sense of the situation, figure out what had happened. The children all screamed over each other trying to tell their stories. Rhaenyra fussed over hew bleeding sons and the unharmed Maelessa backed away from them. Alicent was furious over the loss of her son’s eye, while Rhaenyra was furious over the insults thrown at her children.

“Maelessa, come here,” she beckoned, reaching for her daughter, who backed off, placing herself next to Aemond and grabbing his arm, scowling at her mother. The king, instead of siding with his son who just lost an eye, sided with the grandson who had taken the eye, questioning Aemond about the insults instead of Luke about the attack. He warned them all that the in fighting just cease, but Alicent was not satisfied, trying to convince the king to take one of Luke’s eyes as justice. Maelessa squeezed Aemond’s arm in fear, and even he seemed to think his mother was out of her bounds for the suggestion. Rhaenyra tried to beckon Maelessa over again, to come stand with her siblings, but she refused to let go of Aemond’s arm.

“Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon,” the queen demanded. Luke cried for their mother in fear, Maelessa’s eyes widened and fighting broke out among the adults again. The king refused to let Ser Criston carry out the order, putting his wife back in place. As the king turned to leave, deeming this trial as over, Alicent leapt forward, reaching for his dagger.

Aemond stood, wrapping his arms around Maelessa and taking her behind him protectively. Luke screamed and Rhaenyra put herself in front of him, facing off against Alicent. Maelessa was scared, scared that Alicent may hurt her mother, but Aemond held her in his arms and she clung to him fiercely, finding security in his embrace. She didn’t quite understand what Alicent and Rhaenyra said to each other as one held a knife to each other, but then the blade slashed against skin and her mother was bleeding from her arm. Maelessa gasped and dropped her hand down to grasp Aemond’s tightly.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he whispered in her ear. When the two women backed off from each other, Aemond and Rhaenyra looked at each other. Rhaenyra’s eyes snapped down to the clutched hands of him and her daughter, but she said nothing. Aemond then turned to his mother. “Do not mourn me, mother, it was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.”

Her stoic prince.

Tagging @sadgirlxangel and @ner-dee due to previously shown interest, let me know if you wish to remain tagged or not :)

#The Kneeling Queen #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond one eye #Aemond Targaryen fanfiction #Aemond Targaryen x oc #aemond fanfiction #Ewan mitchell

50 notes · View notes

cinnamongorll · 1 year ago

Text

a fragile line - chapter 1

read on ao3! (111k words) | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Story summary: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse.

Word count: 2k

Chapter 1: ‘Marked for Death’

Death coated the back of Juliet’s throat.

This was not unusual. The aroma of rot and decomposition was commonplace in the body disposal department of the Boston QZ. However, if Juliet could actually taste it simmering on her tongue, it meant one thing: she needed a new mask.

The threadbare fabric tied tight around her nose and mouth was singed earlier in the day when her shift partner tossed a body, with more force than necessary, into the large fire pit in the middle of the square. A few wayward sparks had settled on her mask, gradually burning through the cheap material.

Juliet often wondered how the sickly sweet smell of decay could still remain when fire and smoke cleansed the air.

It didn’t surprise her, though: death always lingered.

It was hour eight of her usual Tuesday shift. One more hour and Juliet could collect her ration cards, find her way to the nearest fabric stall then drag herself back to her tiny apartment. Exhaustion weighed heavy on her today, settling in her bones and restricting her movements. Her shift followed a pattern: walk to the loading truck, pick up a body, place it in the fire and try not to look as the skin blackened and blistered.

The same task, the same people, every week, every month and every year of her residence in the Boston QZ. Every day was a repeat of the previous but she was safe and she was hidden, which was all she could hope for.

More bodies, more fire and her shift was over. Another day completed. Juliet used the stained fabric of her t-shirt to wipe the ash from her hands and forehead as she joined the ration queue. She was in line behind Joel Miller, a man who had worked at body disposal as long as she had, probably longer actually.

Tall, with broad shoulders and dark brown hair speckled with grey and ash, Joel Miller towered above her with more than his height. He was impressive, intimidating. Juliet watched as he stretched his neck to the side and wiped the sweat beading on his skin, his shoulders were tight, his stance solid.

Joel had a presence difficult to ignore, being around him always felt like the air had a little less oxygen, as though he took up a bit more space than everyone else. He didn’t talk much, or ever really, just a few grunts and hard instructions grumbled under his breath to whoever was partnered with him on shift.

Juliet found herself drawn to Joel, despite their lack of interactions. Her eyes would follow his movements as they worked, observing his cool indifference as he performed their grim duty. She would notice him around the QZ, too. He was a ghostly presence, often found haunting street corners and disappearing in a blink of an eye.

Juliet knew little about Joel, only that he sold drugs to her weird neighbour who had drunkenly offered her some while attempting to break into her apartment the other night. She added another lock to her door after that.

“Next!” barked the ration officer, shaking Juliet from her thoughts.

She took a step forward and watched as Joel disappeared around the corner, shuffling ration cards in his smoke covered hands. Juliet wondered if he, too, had grown entirely numb to their gruesome occupation.

Juliet wondered if something worse, something more ghastly, haunted his daily life.

After collecting her ration cards and buying a new mask, Juliet made her way home to her crumbling one bedroom apartment. Home was perhaps a strong word, what with its peeling twenty-year wallpaper, mould stained ceilings and less than ideal neighbours. But it was her’s.

Turning the corner onto her street, Juliet’s eyes landed on a hunched form on the front step of her building. Juliet let out a sigh, quickened her steps and forced a smile onto her face. Margaret was waiting for her.

Margaret was her eighty-five year old neighbour who lived on the bottom floor of their building. She enjoyed long conversations, hard liquor, and gossiping about the inner workings of her neighbour's lives.

“Juliet!” Margaret gasped out.

“Hi, Margaret,” Juliet called as she approached, her plastered smile beginning to falter as Margaret struggled to stand.

Juliet moved to hold the woman’s frail arms, she was frantic, her hands grasping at Juliet’s shoulders, desperate to gain her full attention.

“No, you must listen,” Margaret began, before doubling over, releasing a series of strangled coughs and gasps.

“Someone,” she coughed. “Someone was here…” croaked Margaret while pointing her shaking hand behind her, towards the door.

“What? Who?” Juliet asked, she had never seen Margaret so panicked before.

“Oh it was awful,” Margaret began, once again clutching Juliet’s arms, her arthritic fingers formed in a vice-like grip.

“I was knitting at my dining table, working on my sweater… I must show you Juliet, it’s looking so wonderful, I used…”

“Stay focused,” Juliet interrupted, her voice soft and pleading. “What happened?”

“Yes! So, then I heard what sounded like someone marching through the hallway,” Margaret continued, her words quick and tense.

“I knew it wasn’t yourself or Kenny because you were both working. So I got up and looked out my peep-hole.” Margaret’s voice had grown quieter, now almost a whisper.

“And I watched as two men with dark jackets walked past my door and headed upstairs”

“Next thing I know, I hear this horrendous crash. Now, I know it must have been bad because I could hear it! And you know how terrible my hearing is.”

Shock covered Juliet’s features, their apartment building had always been quiet, always lucky to avoid the crime raging the Boston QZ.

“Did you see them leave?” Juliet asked, her voice urgent.

“Yes, thank god,” Margaret answered. “But dear… I think it was your apartment they went into, and by the sound of it, they surely broke down the door.”

Fuck, Juliet thought. Her heart now feverishly pumping the familiar blaze of fear throughout her body. “Stay here,” Juliet ordered, her voice hard as she moved to release her arms from the old woman’s grip. “I’ll go check it out.”

“Please be careful,” Margaret urged, clasping her hands together in a silent prayer.

Stepping into the building, Juliet paused, listening. So familiar with the hum of her neighbours’ usual routines, Juliet could recognise any foreign noise. But no sound was unusual, nothing was amiss… that she could hear anyway.

Feeling somewhat certain no strangers were lurking in the building, ready to emerge from a dark corner and grab her, Juliet decided to keep moving.

Climbing the steps to the first floor, her body was on high alert; any weariness from her gruelling shift was gone, adrenaline now coated her muscles. Only a sharp, steady focus remained.

Reaching her apartment, Juliet stopped, her feet frozen. The door lay open with three of her four locks fractured, surrounded by splintered wood and chipped paint. The fourth lock lay on the floor by her feet, where it must have fallen after being brutally pried from the door. Juliet felt a sinking feeling deep in her gut. Each lock had become an emblem of her security in the Boston QZ. Now they were shattered. A stark reminder that her safety was never guaranteed.

Juliet reached out, her fingers grazing the fractured wood as she gingerly pushed the door all the way open, moving into her apartment. A deep breath and a long exhale later, Juliet stood in her dining area, eyes now locked on a piece of folded paper on her kitchen table.

She moved closer, Juliet’s body had lost its stamina, her limbs weighed her down. Each step towards the yellowed piece of paper was like wading through dark, chilled water.

When she was close enough to recognise the handwriting, everything stilled. The air, the room, her beating heart… all slowing around her. A chorus of no, no, no, no, no, surged through her mind, spiralling inward, forming a shield around the memories threatening to resurface at the sight of that familiar scrawl.

One hand gripped the edge of the table, tangled in the tablecloth, while the other tentatively lifted the paper. ‘My sweet Juliet’ it read in writing she knew so intimately it could have been etched on her heart. Carved with a sharp, brutal knife.

A high pitched ringing enveloped her mind, numbing all sound apart from the echo of her shallow breaths. Juliet’s ash caked fingernails traced the edge of the worn paper, she pulled it apart to reveal a message:

‘Juliet,

How does it feel living so far from home? Surrounded by strangers.

I admit I was shocked that night you left, I wondered what more you could desire, out in the wasteland of our world, that I had not provided you with? I imagine you have come to the conclusion, by now, that there is nothing else worth living for than the love of our lord. You see, I have eyes and ears in places you could never imagine. My men know the power of our lord and live with his blessing every day. I sent these men to find you, Juliet. I sent them to bring you this message.

I have your friend Ethan in my care now, he has taken your place until you return to me. I have every hope that will be soon my dear, Juliet. He, too, screams when the judgement of our lord is upon him.

Travel safely; the lord does not bless the sinners of this earth,

Your father.’

Ethan… No.

Three years, three blissful years only focused on her own survival, liberated from the torture of her childhood. She left Ethan behind, she thought he would be safe. She was wrong, so very wrong.

Why, though, had her father waited so long to find her? To threaten her with Ethan’s safety? His life? She must have hidden well, burrowed herself so deep in the mundane of everyday QZ life, that even her father’s men, dotted about the country, had not found her for three years.

Yet now her nameless existence had come to an end, slaughtered in a matter of seconds. Juliet’s hand clenched, crushing the paper within her palm.

She had to go back. For Ethan, she would go back.

The thought alone made her choke on her breath, gasping for air in the silent room.

Experience had taught her not to take her father’s threats lightly.

Her journey to Boston was monstrous. Juliet witnessed sights which forever scarred the insides of her eyelids, appearing before her on dark and sleepless nights. Could she travel that distance again? Alone? Knowing what’s out there? No… she would die and so would Ethan.

Juliet stumbled to her moth-eaten couch and sank into the decaying cushions. She reached her shaking hands to her eyes and pressed her fingers to her eyelids, pushing harder until only a dark nothingness remained. Her life in the Boston QZ was over…for Ethan she would return to the man who haunted her every step, his existence always reminding her she would never be fully free.

Reluctance acceptance washed over her. For Ethan she would return to her prison, almost assuredly never to escape again.

Removing her hands from her eyes, Juliet released a trembling sigh. Accepting her powerlessness brought a distance from her emotions. The thought of Ethan and the immediacy of the situation had started to drown out her terror and regret, leaving behind a cold numbness.

In her emotionless stupor, Juliet started to plan her way out of the QZ.

A loose floorboard hid a map and a variety of makeshift weapons, including a switchblade which Juliet liked to keep sharp. Both were now on the coffee-table before her, Juliet hunched over the map tracing her journey with the tip of her blade.

There was one problem she couldn’t solve: this was not a journey she could make alone. Juliet survived her journey to Boston on sheer luck and willpower. She would risk her own life, but not Ethan’s. She had to get there alive.

Her blade stilled, its tip pierced through the rough paper into the hardwood table. Juliet’s racing thoughts had settled on the one person she knew had both spent a significant amount of time outside of the QZ and had a route out…

Joel Miller.

Fuck.

#joel miller x oc #joel miller x original character #Joel miller x female oc #joel miller x reader #joel miller #tlou fic #joel miller hbo #joel the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou #Joel #ao3 fanfic #pedro pascal #Spotify

165 notes · View notes