#let me be clear he HAS a bath. he has his little water dome in the cage. he dont like it

[cynicjovial]

i bought a bath toy for my stupid bird with my birthday money i cant fucking wait to see if he likes it

[sarcasticdolphin]

Smrtolf fae au: September Prompt #6: Bonfire

For the amazing @adridoesstuff as all the Smrtolf drabbles are.

This one is mostly just softness. Cut is for length.

The room is bathed in an eerie green light when Rudolf tentatively slips through the door. The servant who’d brought the king’s message had been ever so careful to make it clear that it was an invitation that the king of the fae extended, not an order, but Rudolf would have come no matter how the message had been framed.

The king turns as Rudolf gently shuts the door, waving him closer. The room is larger than Rudolf had first thought, but the great column of strange green flame at its center makes it seem altogether small.

“Majesty.” Rudolf dips his head.

“Rudolf.” The king’s voice is ever-musical. “I confess I’ve grown rather jealous of your tutors as of late and called you here so I can have the honor of teaching you myself, at least for a few minutes.”

Rudolf nods, unsure of what to say. He and the king ate together and he was - in name if not entirely in truth - one of the king’s attendants now, but their meetings always seemed so fleeting. Rudolf had his lessons and the fae king did not neglect his realm.

Smrt smiles gently and nods to the flames. “Tell me what you see.”

“Green fire.” Rudolf answers quickly. The tongues of flame are obvious, and even with the eerie color it cannot be anything else. The king nods.

“Just fire?”

Rudolf finds himself slightly puzzled at the question and glances around the room to see if he’s missed anything, but the room is bare and even looking at the base of the flames he can’t see what makes them.

“It’s cold. The fire, that is. It gives no heat.” Rudolf hadn’t quite realized the extent of it until he spoke the words, but the room should be blazing hot - too much to bear. The fire is enormous and stretches from the floor to the high dome of the ceiling. Yet the room is perfectly cool.

“Good.” The king seems pleased with his answer. “What else?”

Rudolf finds himself examining it all more closely, wondering what exactly the king wishes for him to see, to notice. Wanting more than anything to see the king’s lips quirk up in approval.

“An illusion?” Rudolf has never personally had a great affinity for illusions - he knew what they were, but from what he knew creating them seemed about as entertaining as watching paint dry. If it was an illusion then it was certainly one worthy of a king. The way the flames and the light danced was perfect. There are no flaws. No disjointed shadows or strange breaks in the light that were typically the flaws of imperfect illusions.

“Not quite.” Smrt extends his hand into the flames and for an instant they churn and bubble like water might before a little bit pools in the king’s hand.

It’s a strange contraction when his hand is clear of the fire. The little pool cupped in his hand continues to burn gently, but the edges are so clearly liquid.

“Hold out your hand.”

Some deep-seated part of Rudolf still worries about the little tongues of flame, but a far larger part is deeply intrigued. Smrt’s realm held so many wonders, and he delighted in learning about each and every one.

The fae king lets a few drops of the emerald fire drip off the edge of his hand and onto Rudolf’s.

“Oh!” Rudolf isn’t quite sure what to make of the sensation. “It tickles!” Perhaps it would be more dignified to say the sensation is a tingling one, but Rudolf is far too fascinated to care. It doesn’t hurt, though it is certainly altogether strange and like nothing he’s felt before. 

Rudolf glances up at Smrt for a moment. The king’s eyes seem to twinkle in the light, and the corner of his lips is gently upturned in that way Rudolf always cherishes. So much so on this particular occasion that he doesn’t even notice his hands are tilting to the side until one of the fae king’s gently catches him so the little bits of fire don’t fall out of his hand.

“It feels almost alive.” Because there is something very strange about the droplets even if they give off no warmth. “What is it used for?” Rudolf bites his lip ever so slightly as he glances back up at the fae king.

Smrt for his part gives what Rudolf would call a nervous sort of shrug from anyone else, though Smrt being who he is, the gesture seems entirely dignified and elegant.

“Amusement, mostly.” He reaches into the great column and soon has a handful of the strange green fire-water again. “Though I believe the humans call it witchfire from time to time.”

It’s entirely like the king to want to show Rudolf a great wonder and say it was only a bit of amusement, though Rudolf does wonder if a few fae might have come up with practical uses for it. Perhaps it could distract Aemilia’s crows.

But there is something that makes his heart flutter at the thought of Smrt showing him this wonder and there not being some great lesson to learn, only something to pique his curiosity for a few minutes that they might spend alone together, the realm seeming ever so far away in the moment.

“May I?”

Smrt nods, and Rudolf tentatively reaches out to the great pillar of flame. The little droplets were so interesting, but he wants more than that. He wants to know how it feels. Smrt didn’t emote as much as some of the other fae and Rudolf was always curious, his mind positively ravenous for the little bits of knowledge that one could find by looking a little further, a little deeper.

His hand is in the stream for only a moment, and the sensation is altogether stranger than Rudolf would have thought, tingling all around his hand. Almost like the little balls of fire were swimming in the great pillar of flame. 

“It’s-” Rudolf doesn’t know quite what word he should use, though from the indulgent smile on Smrt’s face he suspects that in this moment he doesn’t need one. The fae king’s hand - now free of any green not-fire - rests gently on his shoulder.

“I hope you get jealous of my tutors more often.”

Smrt’s gentle lips brush against Rudolf’s forehead and his hand comes to rest between Rudolf’s shoulder blades. The light in his eyes is full of promise and the little wink the king gives him before guiding him to the door says more than any words ever could.

[chaoticallysapphic]

the great divide part four

summary: Who knew that eight words would be your undoing. If you had known then what you know now you wouldn't have signed up for Suyin's dance troupe, you probably would have left Zaofu just to be safe. But you didn't and fate had branded you with a path that chained you to someone who would break your heart. 

a/n: This is an 18+ chapter, if you aren’t an adult please do not read. As always thank you to the amazing @medeliadracon​ for beta reading this

word count: 4k

You don’t know how you're going to pull off a lie this big, when it came to the secrecy of your relationship with Kuvira it was more like omitting the truth, you technically are close friends you just didn’t elaborate on how close. 

Before today that was the biggest lie you’ve kept, but as you slowly drive to the front terminal of the main dome you realize how much easier it was to keep because you weren’t keeping it from her. 

Instead of speeding off towards your destination, you take your time, the sooner you arrive the sooner Kuvira would send men to look for Suyin and Zhu Li. Part of you desperately wants to floor it, Wei didn’t hold back from his punch and now you feel the beginning of a splitting headache seep through your head. 

But you’ll be fine, a little pain will be okay so long as everyone is safe. When you get a bit closer, the sight before you has you stepping on the brakes. The domes… They’re gone. The sun has been down for hours and yet the city is visible as the metal that once protected it is laying on the ground. What has she done?

Your heart pounds as you pull up to the entrance of the city, some guards are standing by the empty tram when you pull up. Killing the engine you jump out and grab your chest from the trunk. “Why are you alone?” One of the men asked, most likely the one in charge of this section. 

“Something happened, I need to see Kuvira immediately.” The authoritative tone of your voice, a way you’ve never really spoken before, sets the guards in motion. One of them takes your chest and gently places it inside whilst the other heads into the operating booth. You step inside the empty vehicle and sit down by a window. 

The doors snap shut and with a slight jolt, the tram comes to life. You nervously fiddle with your hands as you try to come up with lies for any questions she may fire your way. The entire ride you keep your gaze on your lap, not wanting to see what's become of your hometown. You don’t want to see your parents anymore, not until you’ve achieved your goal. The idea of them seeing you, thinking you're on the wrong side of history makes you sick to your stomach.

After a few minutes, the tram comes to a gentle stop and the doors open up, when you look out you realize you're in the Beifong dome, there’s a residential area in here as well but it mainly consists of the family grounds. A guard steps in and takes your chest for you. 

“I’m meant to take you to Kuvira” he explains, his eyes stray to your cheek for a moment. You stare back until he realizes he’s been caught. His eyes widen as he clears his throat and begins to walk off. You follow after him, keeping your gaze straight ahead. 

It shouldn’t shock you, but when he leads you into the Beifong estate, you can’t help but feel like you don’t belong. The only other time you’ve been inside here was a few days ago when you tried to peacefully convince Suyin to concede but it feels like forever ago. 

You lose count of how many turns you take before he reaches a sitting room, different from the other one, that has it’s doors already open. Kuvira is sitting on the couch with a clenched jaw whilst Baatar is standing by the alcohol cart. When you both step inside, Kuvira’s eyes snap to you, her gaze darkens as it settles on your face and she immediately gets up to walk over to you. 

“What happened, where’s General Yin?” She barks out, her fingers reach up to lightly touch the bruise. Upon contact you flinch away, hissing in pain and her gaze softens. Baatar looks over his shoulder and scoffs at the sight of you as he downs his drink. 

“I…” you begin, your voice shakes. “He attacked me.” Baatar looks at you with a brow quirked in skepticism. 

Kuvira’s fast reddens in anger, “what do you mean he attacked you?” 

“H-He and Zhu Li they were… I guess working together I don’t know it’s a blur.” She stares you down and you feel so small under her frightening glare. What could make this more believable? You think, and it hits you, tears. 

You’ve never tried to cry on demand before but you squeeze your eyes shut as you force flashes of some of your worst nightmares to play before your eyes. 

Kuvira admits she loves Baatar. 

Your parents dying. 

Her… dying.

All three squeeze at your heart but your pesky brain focuses on the last one. An image of her laying on the rubble of a building with a rod stuck in her stomach as blood drips from her mouth. Her skin is becoming paler by the second and no matter how loudly you scream for help, everyone around you stands and watches as she dies in your arms.

Hands gently cup your jaw and pull you out of your torture, Kuvira’s glare has vanished as she tries to wipe away your tears. “What do you remember?” 

Her voice is soft now, soothing even. You let out a shaky breath as you force yourself to focus on that awful scene. “He stopped the car a-and they both got out. She tried to make me come with but I wouldn’t and…” 

You hear Baatar spit out “spirits,” as he refills his glass. Kuvira stays quiet as she listens, silently urging you to continue. 

“He got so angry, they… um they fought about it and I tried to stop them both but he got so angry at me for messing up their plan that he... “ You gulp, “I woke up with a dart stuck in my neck.” 

“Where’s the dart?” Baatar calls out, Kuvira rolls her eyes at his question as she reluctantly drops her hands and takes a step back. You dig your hand into your jacket and fiddle with it, your hands are clammy so it keeps slipping. Finally, your fingers wrap around it and you pull it out for Kuvira to see. 

She grabs it from your hand and growls out “this is one of our own.” She looks into your eyes once more, at your messy appearance and tears rushing down your face. Your mind twists the image of her death, in this version her death is your fault… You didn’t do enough, didn’t stop this in time and she paid the price of your inability. You choke out a sob at the idea of her wheezing as blood gushes from her head. “Let’s get you to your room.” 

Kuvira settles a hand on your shoulder and leads you away, the guard with your chest follows as you walk down the winding hallway before stopping at a large door. The guard opens it up and places your chest at the foot of your bed before scurrying out. He closes the door behind him, leaving the two of you alone. Kuvira flicks her wrist, effectively bending the lock into place before pulling you into her arms. 

You grip the back of her shirt as you continue to cry, you can’t will the image away now no matter how hard you try. It’s ingrained in your brain, clawed itself into the deepest corners of your mind, and settled in for life. 

“You're safe,” she says softly, one of her hands running through your hair. “I won’t let anyone ever lay a hand on you ever again.” She kisses the top of your head before gently tugging you towards the bathroom. She lets go of your hand and begins to fill the bathtub up with water. You bend your armor off then take off your clothes. Your eyes never leave her form as she grabs some oils and bubbles from a cabinet and pours some in, a rosy fragrance fills the room as the bubbles multiple. 

Kuvira turns the water off and turns to look at you. “Will you… get in with me?” Kuvira nods and helps you get in the tub before beginning to undress. You pull your legs up to your chest and space out as you look at all the bubbles in front of you. 

You don’t think you’ve taken a bath with her before. The showers on the train were small and she’d usually enter your room a little bit after midnight. She climbs in behind you and slides her legs on either side of your hips. You rest your head on her chest and sigh. Being close to her like this helps ease your fears and worries. 

The Beifongs are hopefully far away from here by now, and Kuvira is very much alive as she wraps her arms around your waist. You think she bought your lie, you think if she didn’t you wouldn’t be taking a bath right now. 

At some point she cleans the dirt off your face with a wet cloth, she avoids your bruised cheek though. With her free hand, she brings her thumb up and gently places it on your lip as her fingers gently grip your chin to make you look at her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” 

“It’s not your fault, Vira.” You press a kiss to her thumb as your hand trails up to her cheek. She leans into your touch, the two of you sit there staring at each other until you feel your skin turn pruny. 

Reluctantly you both get out of the bath and wrap each other in robes, she pulls you into a soft kiss that you eagerly reciprocate, one of your hands went up to her bun and pulled out the pins keeping it in place. Her black waves fall around her shoulders in a beautiful mess of curls, you think, while you pull away from her, how lucky you are to have been given such a beautiful soulmate. 

“It is my fault, everyone knows I’m close to you and the target on my back grows larger with every day that passes. What if next time they kill you?” Her voice cracks at the end and your heart breaks because you just had a bit of a breakdown at the idea of losing her, so you understand.

“I am not going to die, I promise. I don’t think anyone is stupid enough to try that.” People may not know that you're her soulmate but they do know that you two are very close. She runs her fingers through your hair and sighs. She pulls you out of the bathroom and towards the bed where she begins to untie your robe. 

You flush as Kuvira slides it off your shoulders and lets it fall to the ground, at the sight of your naked form she groans before pulling you into a gentle kiss, her hands come up to cup your face- for the side that's bruised her hand lays on your jaw- as she softly licks your bottom lip and you open your mouth up for her as you wrap your arms around her neck.

As her tongue caresses your own, you feel something wet drop onto your face that has you slowly pulling away and opening up your eyes. She’s crying. “Vira…” 

Her lips brush against your own as she says in a pained voice “I thought you left me when an hour went by without your arrival.” Your heart clenches. You begin to kiss away her tears, she squeezes her eyes shut as you try to ease her worries, her fears. 

“I’ll never leave you,” you whisper in her ear, your lips trailing down her neck as you leave soft kisses against her tan skin. “I might be upset but I will never leave, love you too much to leave.” She pulls you into another kiss, this one a bit more forceful, she’s trying to fill herself up with you to keep surviving, you're her fuel and she’s running low. 

She slowly walks you backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed, you fall onto the plush mountain of pillows as Kuvira unties her robe before straddling your hips. “I love you,” she murmurs as she kisses your neck, one of her hands placed beside your head to hold herself up while the other slowly run down your side, her fingers light as a feather. 

Those soft lips you love oh so much trail down your collarbone, she places a kiss right between your breasts before lifting her head to lay a soft kiss to each nipple, you arch your back, letting out a soft whine as she softly licks at one of them, then blows onto it. She repeats herself with your other one before continuing to trail her kisses down to your core. 

Kuvira kisses your hip bones before nuzzling her face in your stomach and sighing. One of your hands goes to softly grip her hair and she looks up at you through her lashes with her gaze so full of love it leaves you frozen in its wake. Kuvira places a kiss on your stomach before trailing down once more. She leaves a soft kiss on your pubic bone before she slowly ducks down and licks a strip up your slit. You let out a sigh of relief and wiggle your hips, trying to get more out of her. 

She uses her fingers to spread you open as her other arm drapes itself across your stomach to keep you in place. Kuvira continues to slowly lick up a few more times, each time her tongue reaches your clit she applies a bit more pressure, leaving you a panting mess in need of more. 

Finally, as if deciding you’ve suffered enough she dips her tongue inside you. You throw your head back as she uses her thumb to gently rub at your clit, her gentleness is so different from her usual rough behavior in bed (not that you mind, you love both sides of her) but you don’t think she’s been this slow and loving with you since her engagement. 

Kuvira pulls her tongue out of you and replaces it with fingers, her mouth immediately gets to your bundle of nerves where she wraps her lips around your clit and sucks. The arm thrown across your hips moves, her hand going to squeeze at your breast. “Fuck… Vira,” you moan out as she continues to pump her fingers deep inside you at an agonizingly slow pace. 

She removes her lips from you for a moment to say through pants “I just wanna feel you, all of you,” before diving back in. Both of your hands tightly grip at her black tresses, pulling a moan out of her that vibrates against you. She feels you clench around her fingers so Kuvira adds a third and slightly picks up her speed. It’s not as fast as she usually goes but she wants to gently pull it from you, wants to take her time with you because she was so sure you’d finally left her. 

“Come for me, love. Please.” She says, having briefly pulled away from you, she’s swirling her tongue around your clit with her fingers curling inside you, her hand once squeezing your breast is now gently rolling your nipple between her fingers. When she thrusts her fingers back into you, you snap. A string of loud, breathy moans escapes you as you ground yourself on her fingers and let go. 

She fucks you through your orgasm, licking around her fingers as she continues to pump into you. When you feel yourself slowly come down, you gently try to pry Kuvira off of your sensitive core. She resists and instead pulls out her fingers which she happily sucks clean, her gaze locking with your own. When she’s sucked off all of you, she leans down and licks you clean. You jolt at the feeling of her tongue licking up your slit and let out a soft cry, “Kuvira.” 

Once she deems you clean enough she pulls away and leaves a soft kiss on both of your inner thighs before climbing up to kiss you. You moan as you taste yourself on her and eagerly grant her access to your mouth where you both softly run your tongues across one another. You ease your grip on her hair and slowly move them down to cup her cheeks. 

You both kiss each other for a few minutes with your legs wrapped tightly around her hips before you slowly pull away, with both hands on her shoulders you flip the two of you around so you're on top, she laughs, full-on wide smile, head thrown back laugh and you grin. 

“My turn,” you say, kissing that spot right under her ear, and her laughter halts as her breath hitches in her throat. You place a knee between her legs, situated against her core and she immediately rubs herself against it, she’s already so wet which you know is from getting you off. Kuvira might be the dominant one out of the two of you, but she got off on pleasuring you. 

“Y/n '' she moans out as you trail your lips down to her breasts, knowing that her neck is off limits you begin to litter her chest and shoulders with as many lovebites as you can, she continues to grind herself against you. Something about her so desperately trying to get off on your leg has you moaning as you wrap your lips around her nipple, you look up at her through your lashes. The sight is a masterpiece, Kuvira’s head is thrown to the side, half-buried in a pillow as she lets out sharp pants with love bites scattered across her tan skin. 

You release her nipple, taking the neglected one into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the hardening bud. Giving a gentle tug that has her reaching to pull your hair, you let go of it and crawl down. You remove your leg from Kuvira’s core, causing her to emit a frustrated groan.

But you ignore her, when you get down to her lower regions your eyes land on her soulmate mark etched across her left hip bone, “Would you mind helping me memorize the routine?” glares back at you. It seems like yesterday that you nervously walked up to the woman you thought was just so beautiful and said those words. You press a gentle kiss to her mark, Kuvira looks down at you with this gaze full of unending love that makes you want to cry. 

You pull away from her and work you way down to her glistening slit, her slickness is covering her thighs, and fuck, Kuvira never loses control like this. You press a trail of kisses up her right inner thigh, once you get to the very top you lick her thigh clean before turning to do the same to the other. 

Finally, you decide enough is enough and press your tongue inside of her, swirling around and caressing her walls. Kuvira lets out a raspy gasp and she pushes herself against you, loving the way you're making her feel. You gently press your thumb against her clit, adding a bit of pressure before rolling it between two of your fingers. Goodness, Kuvira tastes amazing and you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of her, you fervently keep going, your tongue slowly darting in and out as it licks up any of her cum and soon Kuvira clenching against you, her thighs came up to wrap around your head but you don’t mind, it just makes you go faster, trying so desperately to push her over the edge.

“I’m… I’m gonna” she moans out as she tilts her hips up and lets out a scream that has her biting the pillow beside her. You hum in approval as she lets go and licks her up like you're a starved woman. Slowly her legs loosen and then fall back down, her thighs shaking as you pull away from her. You pant as you try to catch your breath, some of her cum drips down your chin and onto your chest, the sight has Kuvira’s eyes widening in delight.

 You climb off the bed and grab two towels, one of them you use to wipe your face off and between your legs whilst the other is for your lover. You climb back up and gently wipe away the mess you’ve made, she grabs your hand and tugs you forward, effectively getting you to fall onto the bed. You toss the dirty towel behind you and pull her close, resting your head on her chest. 

“I love you,” she says, her voice is raspy and low from her screaming. You press an innocent kiss to her chest and whisper back “I love you too.”

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Perhaps it’s the fact that your sleeping in a new place or the fact that your tongue fucking caused her to sleep in. All you know is that when you open your eyes, the sun is up and has cast the room in an ethereal type glow. Your heart drops as you hear the sounds of the guards outside practicing fighting in what once was the meteorite garden and people walking past your bedroom door. 

“Vira…” You whisper and gently shake her awake. Your lover’s eyes slowly flicker open and stare back at you in confusion. “Vira everyone's awake.” 

The effectively wakes her up, she pushes you off of her and looks around the room in a panic, her hair is an absolute mess that has you swell with pride, and your eyes land on her chest. Spirits you did a number on her. She immediately gets up and looks around for her clothes, not even bothering to put her robe on. You get up to help her, as you make your way to the bathroom to search, you both stop dead in your tracks. 

There’s incessant knocking at your door, well more like slamming, it stops for a moment and you wonder if the person has left but your hopes are dashed when in an all too familiar nasally voice you hear “Y/n let me in!” 

“Why?!” You shout back as you shove your lover in the bathroom, she closes the doors behind her and you quickly throw on and tie up a robe. When you walk past the large mirror by the door you stop, there is no denying what just went on in here. Spirits the smell is still here, but then a thought strikes you as he goes back to pounding on the door. 

Baatar is necessary for Kuvira to succeed… And you don’t want her too. You let out a deep sigh, preparing yourself for what's about to happen before unlocking the door. The second he hears the click of the locks he’s opening the door himself and pushing through, you stumble back and glare at him. “What the fuck, Baatar?” 

“The staff said she didn’t leave this room last night, so where is she?” He growls out. Baatar pushes past you and looks around the room, taking in the tossed cloths, extra robe on the floor, and rumbled sheets. “Spirits Baatar I know you hate our friendship but do you really think you have the right to act like this?” 

“It’s lunchtime,” he spits out, spinning around to stalk towards you. “She is up at the crack of dawn every morning to practice her bending and go over any paperwork that may have accumulated, then we eat breakfast together and go over blueprints that I made!” He points to himself, screaming out the end of his sentence. Out of fear maybe, or pent up anger you honestly don’t know, you slap him across the face.

The sound echoes through the grandiose room as he holds his reddened cheek. “What are you trying to say, Junior?” 

“I know your in love with her, you practically eye fuck her anytime she enters a room, it’s so disgusting and desperate and I know she is still here so where is she?” You want to bend the metal around him and fling him through the glass window, but he needs to know. He needs to find out. 

“I don’t know you,” you lie, your eyes flickering to the bathroom door. Baatar looks over his shoulder at where your gaze strayed before stalking over and wrenching open the double doors. Inside is Kuvira, hair still a mess with her boots and pants on in the middle of buttoning up her shirt. All of your bite marks are on display for him to see. 

“Baatar…” She begins, his face is beet red with his fists clenched at his sides. “I can explain.” 

“How long have you been with her? How long have you been lying to me!” He tries to get in her face as he did to you. You think he’d have learned after you slapped him but it seems the lesson didn’t stick. Kuvira bends a large piece of metal off the wall and pushes him back with it. Baatar goes flying onto his back and slams into the foot of the bed. 

“I don’t answer to you, I don’t know what makes you think you could ever treat me like that, I am the great uniter and I do not take lightly to men trying to instill fear in me,” she growls out. Stalking towards him with her shirt still unbuttoned, she grabs onto the collar of his shirt and pulls him up into a sitting position. Her face is so close to his, “I wanted to keep you around after I broke it to you, but if this is how you're going to act, then I might as well lock you up like I did your family.” 

His eyes widen as Kuvira calls for the guards, “at least tell me how long, how long did you make a fool out of me?” 

“Three years,” you answer. His mouth drops open in shock as the guard's filter in, “take him away and lock him up. I’ll stop by to talk to him later.” The guards grab him by the arms to drag him away, he doesn’t stop them as he tries to process your words. Three years.

[impossible-rat-babies]

don’t stop (color on the walls)

fallen hero | 2.3k words | post second escape | cw: graphic depictions of violence + mild gore

read on ao3

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It’s a clear night out tonight, the sky an endless dome stretching miles and miles overhead out into deep inky blackness bespectacled by freckled stars. 

Pollux blows a stream of smoke out of his mouth and it drifts up and up until it dissipates and he wonders if any particles of the smoke will reach that impossibly high ceiling. If they’ll touch moon perched on the roof, staring down at him with her grey blue light. 

He glances down at his hands, still bandaged and aching, lit instead by the fluorescence and the red and green neon glow from the gas station behind him. His shadow stretching long and narrow, falling across the desert dirt towards the dusty two lane highway disappearing out west. He breathes out again, the chill of the dry desert air stings in his nose when he takes a deep breath. It still hurts his lungs and his lips are broken and chapped, the wind sharp against his skin and he scratches the side of his face, sand and dirt rubbing off on his hand. He’s already got a fine layer of sand and dust under his clothes and it itches, but it’s better than what he came from.

The stolen sweatshirt itches and smells like cheap booze and sweat, the oversized sweat pants tied off as tightly as he can manage, but they still need coaxing to stay up. He looks back out east, across the desert and a shiver runs down his back staring into the darkness of those looming hills. It’s been days now, he can feel it in his joints, his aching muscles and in the caffeine shakes making his leg bounce, paranoia sharp as a knife when he hasn’t slept in three days.

If they were going to come after him, they would have by now.

Or maybe they were still busy cleaning up the mess he left behind. He picks at the dark lines wedged under his fingernails, flicking away the dried blood and dirt.

He’d cleaned the worst of the viscera off at the first abandoned house in some podunk hundred and fifty person town--a quick bucket and hose bath to scrub away the worst of it. Patched the worst of the hurts with a stolen first aid kit and cheap vodka to calm the shakes and practiced hands make quick work. He’d scrubbed raw and shuffled away the memories of what he had done too, letting them scab over and scar. Days later and miles away and there’s no regret in his actions—nothing he hasn’t done before.

Fool you once, shame on me, fool you twice, shame on you. A lesson they all learned too late and Pollux quickly rubs goosebump sticky arms.

Thoughts best left for later and he takes another long drag of his cigarette before he drops it to the ground and kicks some dirt over it. He needs to find actual shoes, his feet numb with scraps and burns from desert. He turns back to the gas station, the sad looking thing still clinging to life from a threadbare wire linking it to the rest of the chain which traces the narrow highway. A pulse, a guiding light to the south. Las Vegas and then west further still, down through what highways remain to the ocean—to the city that lies at those ruined shores.

There’s a few truckers packing up their things, shuffling around their big rigs and filling up at the meager pumps for the inevitable long days ahead of them. Pollux had picked one out earlier—an older woman heading just the direction he needed. 

She’d seen him inside earlier, moving through the aisles of candy and assorted snacks, poking at the chips and sneakily sticking packages of fruit snacks in the pockets of his sweatshirt when the attendant wasn’t looking too hard. She had saddled up next to him, taking the package of chips he had been reaching for and tucked them under her arm, hand held out expectantly. Her eyes drifting down to the drooping pocket of his sweatshirt with a pointed frown. 

He’d almost panicked, dropped everything and disappeared back into the desert--he could find his own way South. He’d done it before. But...there was no intent to rat him out, only give him a chance to not get caught. Give him a chance to mess this up; care about him a little.

Maybe that’s what made it easy, taking what was in his pockets out and passing them off to her one by one like some kid coughing up the candy they’d stolen from the jar and shoved in their cheeks.

He’d stood beside her like some poor lost child, eyeing everything around them while she checked out. Tucking an energy drink or two under her arm before she’d passed him his own meager bag with yet another look, thick southern drawl of a thank you for the attendant.

He fusses with the plastic handle of the snacks digging into his hand, peeling the wrapper from off the one of two packages of cigarettes she had added on his meager hoard of snacks. A little way to sweeten the pot for his honesty, he had easily picked up from her casual mind. 

She was kindly enough to offer a helping hand, but knowing enough to not get curious--her assumptions secure. Ironic how little work he has to do sometimes when people will fill in the gaps of what they want to see: just a poor runaway with nothing to his name, looking to head south to the coast. Disappear into the big city and be nothing--be a nobody.

He clambers up into the passenger seat, dumping his bagged snacks on the middle seat and it smells like cigarette smoke and cheaply made new care smell trees—half a dozen of them dangle from the rear view mirror. A lanyard hangs alongside them with small polaroids clipped to the key ring. Children, he’s guessing: grown daughter out east, living in up in New York—at some big architect firm and there’s a touch of pride in all those memories. A high school aged son back home, deep in the bowels of Los Diablos. He doesn’t care to poke more, settling deeper into the passenger seat once she too hops in.

He tucks his aching, stinging feet under him and cranes his neck to look out the window, watching a she slowly gets the big rigged turned around and headed off down the highway. The truck lurches and protests with the shifting of the gears, but it gets up to speed and the telephone poles and electric wires fly by, disappearing into the dark once the headlights hit them and pass on by. He counts their movement by the dip and rise of the wires from one pole to the next, the light from the moon too weak to keep pace.

Pollux cranes his neck up to look up at the moon and the scattering of stars this late at night, the buzz of the radio nothing but warm static against his ears. The heat of the vents blasting him in the face and still he looks out the window, wondering what it would be like to fall from the surface of that domed ceiling where the moon makes her home. If there would be anything left to salvage after that catastrophe, hitting the earth at terminal velocity. He would be nothing but a splatter, a crater in the wet sticky mud, utterly obliterated and there’s no coming back from that.

He thought it would be like that after the gun--after the window, nothing left to rebuild. But there was--they did. Dragged him kicking and screaming back with a tube shoved down his throat and white hot lights above an operating table. A new hip, knee and shoulder and spine--a persistent ache and he runs his thumb across the puckered scar near his shoulder. He winces, closing his eyes.

“Hey sugar, you okay?”

A deep breath and he yanks his head up, the driver giving him a long look out of the corner of her eye, cigarette dangling from her lips.

“You look like shit, darling. Go ahead and have a smoke.” She plucks the pack from the cup holder and urges him to take it.

“Thanks...” Pollux mumbles, pulling a cigarette from the package and he quickly sparks it up, sucking in a long breath. The nicotine settles the shakes and he rests back against the seat, head rolling to look out the drivers side window.

“You heading to Los Diablos?” She asks, testing the waters it feels like--getting a read on him.

“Yeah...”

“Got a place to stay when you get there? Someone to look out for you?” She looks over at Pollux again and he nods. Generous, wanting to look out for him--knows a thing or two about runaways. He’s not the first to sit in her passenger seat on this long drive; maybe the worst looking out of all of them. He pulls the hood up on his sweatshirt just a bit, running his fingers over his smooth scalp.

“Yeah, I got a plan when I get there. I’ve been there before--ran away there before.” He purses his lips, a little honesty creeping through. Just to sell it a bit more, give her the right impression.

“Didn’t stick around then, eh?” 

Pollux snorts and shakes his head, cracking the window to let a bit of the smoke out.

“Wanted to stay. But...wasn’t as good at hiding as I thought.”

Hiding in plain sight sure. Should’ve actually hidden, laid low, been a nobody. Carved out a life watching the Rangers on television screens in ancient electronic store windows and listen to them on half broken radios in homeless camps huddled in a sleeping bag. But he just had to stick his nose out--seen some poor chump harassing people in an alleyway, steps one, two, and three to take him down and it was all downhill from the moment his fist made contact. Sure he saved those people from a stolen wallet and some stitches, but then he did it again. And once more after that, and again.

It was just about the rush at first--like the first cigarette in the morning--the consuming way violence felt when deprived of it for so long. Unable to lash out, fists curling in excuses to crack his fingers.

It burned at first, the need to destroy--to wreck and scream and screech and tear out his growing hair all because he could. Or maybe it was like being drunk, high off the power and ability to let go. Let himself destroy a little, grin a little too wide and laugh a bit too loud. He isn’t proud of those first few months, taking down back alley slum lords and drug kings, high off the thrill of being able to do something to people that hurt him. Left a lot of bloodied messes--killed a few people in the rush. 

Not like it changed anything.

Not like he still doesn’t feel that need. Escaping the Farm was just the means to an end and whomever got in the way, got in the way. He’s still nursing a steady ache deep at the base of his neck and his temples, the strain of Numbers and the dampeners almost too much. Clumsy, inefficient--only breaking their brains like a toddler on a rage induced temper tantrum breaks their toys.

Some of them might recover, brains only half turned off, or only a mild seizure to stall their progress. Others won’t. Brains squeezed until they ruptured, seizures enough to hemorrhage, hands breaking windpipes, necks twisted until they cracked. Indulging in the need to destroy, letting his fingernails dig into faces, dig into eyes and oh how easy it was to scoop and pluck them out. Tongues and throats too--the body so soft and pliant like the mind.

Laughing and laughing himself silly while they screamed and begged and there’s no mercy left between his fingers.

“Well...” She speaks up, cutting through his thoughts and she’s back to looking at the dark road in front of them. Swallowing hard, she continues: “whatever was causing you pain where you came from, it’s good you’re not there anymore. No one deserves that...” So resolute and he’s too tired to laugh. Throat still sore.

“If you need a place to stay, or anything like that...I got a spare bedroom at home you can stay at. Long as you need. Maybe a spare pair of shoes, too.”

She wants to help, wants to help so badly and there’s more too it. Little girl, running away from home herself so many years ago--there’s mirrors upon mirrors decorating her thoughts, reflections of the past and the present and he draws his shields up tighter, bundling them around himself to block her out.

“Thank you...” He replies softly, still undecided but her caring...it’s a bit clumsy, a bit messy and tangled, but it’s genuine and its better than most.

She nods, returning her attention to the road.

The radio is turned up, some song he doesn’t recognize fading out into some late night news commentary. Tensions growing tighter overseas, the economy still hiccuping and sputtering with trade deals still on hold in Los Diablos. Some new villain upstart handedly taken in by the Rangers, cutting to some official press debriefing with Steel’s voice laced with carefully scripted professionalism.

Years ago and it was a different voice, a very different man behind the speaker and he was just some poor kid standing stock straight among the rest of the Rangers, hands tucked into fists behind his back.

No more press conferences with blinding camera lights and too many thoughts roaring in his ears. No more sleeping under bridges, no more tiny radios clutched to his chest. No more rules, no more what those old days represent, the voices coming through the radio--the familiar names talking about anniversaries of six and four years past.

“It’ll be a long ways to Los Diablos, so get some sleep. You look like you need it, sugar.” She adds on and Pollux nods rather than argues, letting the cigarette hang between his feet, ash dripping off the end and onto the floor mat between long drags.

The cigarette burns down to the butt, the heat uncomfortable against his skin but it too dies as the embers burn out. There’s nothing but a stub left and he discards it amongst the others crowding the cup holder, one lost amongst the many. He scrunches the hood up tight, tucking his hands into his sleeves. Letting the rocking and lurching of the truck steadily take over his senses.

Five hours--just a little longer on these first few steps and then he’ll be home.

[owlespresso]

royal treatment / emet-selch

Consort!Reader/Solus zos Galvus My ko-fi is still open for donations. I write headcanons and drabbles in exchange for donos. https://ko-fi.com/owlespresso Commissions are also open! https://owlespresso.tumblr.com/post/186937812263/commissions-are-open  SPICY CONTENT below the read more. You have been warned.

The scent of rich incense curls into the air and twines around your robed form as you navigate the royal chambers. Quietly do you tiptoe around the grand canopy bed and the plush leather couches. In the distance, the entrance to Solus’s personal bathing chambers stands. It’s slightly ajar, steam curling into the air from the slight crack, hinting that it’s in use.

It seems Solus wants you to bathe with him, tonight. As the emperor’s constant companion, you are accustomed to seeing sides of him that he reveals to no one else… including his unabashed nudity.

Does he long for a more sexual touch tonight? Or will he simply be satisfied by the lone press of your bodies together.

A thrill shocks up your spine as you near the door, gently pushing them open. 

Steam already rests heavy in the room, obscuring your vision momentarily. Its moist warmth settles against your skin. The smell of sweet roses and chamomile clings to the air and floods your senses. One of his highnesses’s favorites.

The chamber is wide and composed mainly of stark, white marble. A hollowed out, square space in the center acts as the main bath, flooded with crystal clear water. Pillars stand firm on either side of the tremendous room, thick and engraved with intricate, decorative patterns. 

Red and pink petals drift aimlessly over the bath’s surface. A small station to the right holds shelves of towels and toiletries, as well as a rack to hang one’s robe. A table resting in the corner hosts a bevvy of drinks to pick from. Had you been alone, you likely would have perused the selection. 

“And here I was, thinking you forgot about little old me.” The emperor’s voice rings soft and sultry over the open space. He rests against the far edge, elbows resting atop the finely cut marble. The muscular stretch of his torso is held above the water, ilms of perfect skin on full display. He is a man chiseled from only the finest of stones, every curve and sharp plane honed to strict perfection. Though his years on the battlefield have long passed him, it’s clear he still takes care of himself. 

It’s a devotion you can’t help but admire. 

“I could never,” you insist gently, a smile curling the corners of your lips upwards. Just the sight of his bare chest is titilating to you, finally freed from its usual prison of the royal regalia. The thick, flowing garments that usually cover him from head to toe are mercifully absent, letting you know you’ll be able to enjoy his company to the fullest, tonight. “I hope you’re well, my lord.”

You shrug your shoulders, allowing your silken robe to slide from your body and collapse to the floor, a puddle of sleek fabric. You’re completely bare underneath it, nipples already hard, cunt beginning to moisten in anticipation for what’s to come.

“As well as one can be after a long day of dealing with the oh-so-noble court,” he sighs languidly and rests his chin atop the back of his fingers. “I fancied my days on conquering and bloodshed to be over, but perhaps I should bring the troops down south to conquer the rest of Corvos. T’would be a splendid excuse for a vacation.” His gaze drags over the stretch of your body, lingering on the curve of your hips and the soft curve of your chest.

“An invasion as a vacation?” you inquire with a raised brow.

“A vacation in comparison to the dry monotony of conversing with rich fools.” Solus huffs out a laugh.

“Perhaps you should give yourself some time to relax before you commit to that plan,” you say with a soft smile, wading into the warm depths. The water sloshes around your waist, a few of the crimson petals sticking to your skin. “Allow me to help you to relax. It’s the least I can do after all you’ve been put through, today. I imagine count Flavius really put your nerves through the wringer. He was ranting for hours yesterday about the new taxation policy, like he doesn’t have enough money already.”

Upon your approach, he moves from his lofty, lounged position. The water shifts around his steep form as he steps in your direction, arms outstretched. You steer yourself immediately into his embrace, hands resting atop the broad stretch of his chest. The smell of rose water tied with natural musk surrounds you, all too familiar and comforting. 

“As much as I appreciate your willingness to serve your emperor, I would much rather take the lead this time round. Let us use this time to unwind… and wash away the wretched stench of countess Leonus’s perfume.” He wrinkled his nose, eyebrows furrowing into a scowl. His lips set into a pout which you were unashamed to admire as cute. 

He shakes his head as though to clear the memory of it, reaching towards a porcelain dish perched close to the ledge of the bath. He grasped a pale soap bar, meticulously cut into the shape of a rose. The needlessness of it made the corners of your lips curl into a wry smile. Every piece, every belonging was touched by the wealthy’s incessant need to make every object in their house unique and ornate.

He pays no mind to it, instead lathering up his hands as you finally come to stand before him.

“Please, take a seat.” A soapy hand presses against the small of your back, urging you into his lap. You rest upon his thighs, hands perched atop the broad curve of his shoulders. Though this is a dance you knew the steps to, you could not suppress a sharp intake of breath, nor could you fight the sheepish warmth that coalesced in your face. His gaze, keen and searching, roamed from your eyes to your chest, making a grand sweep over your top half. “Truly a sight to die for.”

He emphasizes his point by bringing his hands over your chest, calloused palms and fingers rubbing against your sensitive nipples. They raise to firm peaks within mere moments. Your eyes shut, lips parting around a soft gasp. He leaves white suds in his wake, spreading the sweet scent across your skin. 

“Idle flattery will get you nowhere, your radiance.” Your voice comes out shakier than you’d like it. His flattery, you immediately come to find, will get him wherever he wants to be.

“Oh? Is that why you’re already putty in my hands?” he says with a scoff, giving your hips a pointed squeeze. At this point, it’s more about teasing you than washing you clean. You bathe before your nightly visits to him, he knows this well, and has likely memorized your schedule for the lone purpose of teasing you at the most optimal times.

“Guilty as charged,” you acquiesce with a little laugh. You can already feel the slick gathering hot and heavy between your thighs, cunt drenched with your anticipation. “I can’t hide anything from you, your radiance.”

“At last you realize how futile it is to try and hide from your emperor,” Solus presses kisses up and down the expanse of your throat. There’s no doubt he notices every subtle twitch, every little noise you make. The water sloshes around your midsection as he urges you further atop his lap. The tip of his hardened cock kisses the softness of your cunt. 

His palms slide to cup your bottom, fondly squeezing each cheek. His thumbs caress the supple skin in slow circles, another sensation to add to the blossoming pile of them. It’s a series of delicate but purposeful touches that leaves you breathless and wanting, those long fingers mapping your sides and worshipping your body. No ilm is left unattended, your body relaxing muscle by muscle as he descends upon you. 

Any and all prospects of getting clean are washed down the drain as you lose your common sense to lust, eyes shutting, allowing yourself to get caught up river’s torrent. He’s the pull of the tides, the twining of the dark water around your legs, tugging you towards the soft soil at the bottom of the stream.

“Solus,” you sigh, fingers running through lush, ebony locks. You pull on the strands ever so slightly, feel an inkling of satisfaction as he softly moans against your collarbone. 

“Mmm?” he purrs in response. His long fingers curl around your right breast, giving it a pointed squeeze. Your back arches instinctually, gaze lifted towards the domed ceiling. His lips dance across the other, tongue rasping over your other nipple. He gently teases the firm bud with his teeth, before his lips wrap around it. The molten beginnings of your pleasure lap at your seated form, toes and fingers curling at the growing intensity.

He gives it a firm suck, the light press of teeth tearing a surprised gasp from you. He plays at the other with long fingers, squeezing and twisting it. He grants you no reprieve even as he releases your breast with lewd pop.

“Whatever is it that you want from me, my lovely? I cannot give you what you want unless you tell me.”

“Fuck me,” you plead, warm breath brushing against his ear. The shiver that rolls down his spine in response does not escape you. The tips of your nails run over his shoulders, causing goosebumps to spread over that vulnerable, pale skin. You every trick, touch him everywhere you can in order to elicit more of a reaction. If you know anything about Solas, it’s his unfortunate penchant for teasing. And at this point, when your mind is solely on pleasure, you’ll do anything to speed the process up.

“No, no,” he coos soothingly, “You’ll get your satisfaction later, my love. But for now, allow me to savor the privilege of your company.”

“All the flowery language in the world won’t satisfy me as much as your coc—” you feebly begin to reprimand him, in the middle of your weak scolding, he made a pointed roll of his hips. The heated length of his cock rolls exquisitely along your sodden folds. The sudden jolt of pleasure made your head loll back, a gasp wrenched from your weak throat. 

“Why waste your time on words when you could be making such beautiful noises for me?” Solus croons mockingly, his touch wandering back up to your chest. Calloused hands press to your hardened nipples, the course texture making your back arch all over again, too winded to offer a competent reply.

There’s little else you can do but squeal and croon and writhe atop him.

“There we go. Was that so hard?” he spares you no quarter, the honey-coated words striking hardest when you have almost no way to retort. His fingers find home between your legs, beginning to tease your arousal-slicked cunt. He barely presses into your entrance, eyes shut, head tilting to the side as you roll your hips. The hand not pulling pulse after pulse of arousal from the crux of your legs spans across the full size of your hip, holding you in place.

He drinks his fill of you, kiss after greedy kiss pressed to your soft lips. He pries your pleasure from you, works your body as a master musician works a violin, fingers dancing along thin strings. Your clit twitches with each fine note of pleasure, working you towards a warm release despite his intention to draw it out.

As though sensing the incoming climax, his touches halt. 

“Solus!” you near scream, fixing him with an incredulous stare. Your hands feebly press to his shoulders, your bottom lip caught underneath your teeth. Your hips immediately begin to wiggle and squirm, desperately attempting to grind atop one of his broad thighs. “Please, can we—”

“Hush, sweetling,” Solus cajoles, fingertips dancing up and down your sides. “You’ll receive your pleasure in due time. Bear with me until then. Trust that your beloved emperor will take care of all your needs.” 

How can you not, when he dominates you so sweetly? A shudder rolls up your spine, eyes sliding shut as you melt into his touches and embrace. He completes you, builds you up and tears down when he sees fit, a splendid cycle you immerse yourself in completely. 

It’s impossible to tell how long you spend in the baths. Your world zeroes down to him and him alone. 

He teases you to near orgasm at least twice more, leaving your pink folds agonizingly sensitive. Your cunt twitches when his fingers tease your inner thighs. Had the warm waters not surrounded your lower half, your cunt would have been utterly soaked with your juices. Your chest heaves up and down with each heavy breath, your torso slick with sweat.

“You’ve done so well,” Solus praises. His hands wander downwards, long fingers pressing to the soft flesh of your ass, urging your legs around his waist. Your heels press to the small of his back, weak arms clinging onto him for dear life. “A pitch perfect performance.”

The head of his cock presses snuggly against your sodden folds. It’s enough to coax another moan out of you, made to sing for his majesty as he makes the long slide in. His thick member throbs against your walls as he splits you open. His girth leaves not an inch of you wanting, pressing against every nook and cranny that demands his attention. He fills you to the brim, satisfies you in a way no man ever has or will again.

Tears blur the pale creams and yellows of your surroundings as he takes you. 

“Oh, what are those tears for?” Solus taunts. Plush lips brush against your wet cheeks. Fondness drips from his voice, a hand wandering south. “Are you really so desperate for release? You poor thing.” His voice curls with mock sympathy, as though he hadn’t driven you to this state in the first place. You have half a mind to tell him as much, but the sudden rock of his hips knocks the coherency out of you.

“Is that better?” His long fingers span the length of your hips, squeezing the flesh underneath his palms.

“Do you really have to ask?”–is what you want to say, but all you can manage is a hasty nod. Your eyes fall shut as he begins a sharp, relentless pace. The gentle caution he had spent so long teasing you with vanished in a mere moment, replaced by the domineering emperor foreign territories had grown to hate and fear. Each thrust is consummated by a new, overwhelming wave of pleasure. Your orgasm is brought closer at a faster rate thanks to prior teasing, made putty and limp in his hands.

Finally, at last, your orgasm washes over you. The space behind your eyelids goes bright white, your body trembling and writhing helplessly against the broad stretch of his chest. Your nails feebly catch against his snowy skin, blindly scrambling for purchase.

He fucks you through it, because of course he does. There’s not a drop of mercy to be found within his ragged thrusts. His hot breath brushes against the shell of your ear in the form of pants and growls, for even he cannot keep his veneer of kingly arrogance. He loses his rhythm, his hips jackhammering into your center. He blindly seeks his pleasure, and in a few moments, he finds it.

His hot essence coats your walls, cock hitting the deepest point inside of you. The sheer sensation of it makes every of your limbs quake, wrenches a gasp from your scream-raw throat. 

Silence settles between you, besides your own haggard panting. You pull breath after breath into your weary lungs. You haven’t even regained your bearings when he begins to stand, arms wrapped around you tight. The cold stings against your lower half as he lifts you from the water, easily stepping out of the bath from the elevated bench.

“Twas a grand performance,” he murmurs into your hair, pulling back to press a delicate kiss to your forehead. “I would say you’ve earned your fair share of rest. Allow me to take care of the cleanup.”

Easy, you think to yourself, thumping your head to rest against his shoulder. Your eyes shut, and the fatigue that has settled among inside your limbs drags you into a state of light dozing.

[let-me-write-shit]

Somebody To You: 18

Friendly reminder to please Like and/or Reblog. It helps more than you think! :)

A/N: this whole story is like the definition of a slow burn. Just wait until next chapter!

Word Count: 3,234

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:

Harry’s attention was forced away from Zoey as Marco reapproached them, smiling brightly. “See what I mean when I say it’s the most beautiful view of Rome?”

Zoey seemed to snap out of it, too, turning to smile sheepishly at the handsome Italian man, “Yes. I was just saying that this is practically a once in a lifetime opportunity for me, so I’m glad I got to come up here and experience this.”

“Ah, well hopefully it won’t be a one time opportunity,” Marco smirked at her, “You did throw the coin into the fountain.”

Harry tried his best not to roll his eyes and the three walked around the dome for a bit longer, taking each angle of the view in. Within fifteen minutes a few girls started to notice Harry, asking for pictures, which Zoey gladly took, before they wordlessly agreed that they better head out before it got too crazy. Marco led the way, flirting with Zoey behind him while Harry watched on, irritation rising. He couldn’t tell if she was into him or not. She was more reserved than she’d typically be, but there was an awful lot of giggling on her part and he didn’t quite like it. 

As soon as they reached the bottom and stepped out of the church, they could see the rest of their group waiting right out front on the steps of the church. Harry sighed a breath of relief as they waved them over and turned to Marco, faking a smile and thanking him sincerely for his time and tour and shaking his hand, to which Marco gladly received. 

“It really was a wonderful tour. Thank you so much,” Zoey grinned at him.

Marco stepped closer, looking down at her with a slightly lopsided smile, “It was my pleasure, birthday girl. I hope to see you in Rome again,” he pecked either side of her cheeks and then took her hand, kissing it a little longer than necessary.

Zoey blushed, pulling away and smiling one more time before following Harry down to their friends. He didn’t even have a chance to say anything before everyone rounded on her, asking her loads of questions while they continued their way down the steps. 

“How do you keep pulling all these hot guys?” Nancy groaned, “If I don’t hook up with one sexy Italian while I’m here, I’m going to be pissed.”

“Me too!” Andy agreed. “Does Marco have a gay twin brother?”

“No, he has a little brother around my age,” Katie said.

“What is this, the sister duo? Are you two genetically engineered to have the best luck with guys?” Nancy huffed, “You got his number, right?” Zoey shook her head no causing Nancy and Andy to gasp.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Andy halted, “Uht uh, your ass better go back there and get his number,” he began pushing her back in the direction of the church.

“What? No. We’re only here for the week. What the hell do I need his number for?”

“You have an opportunity to get with an actual Italian dreamboat. Don’t be dumb! Go get his number! If not for you, then for Katie! Don’t let her miss out on an overseas summer romance!” Nancy argued.

Harry watched along wordlessly with Aurora, waiting to see what she would do. He saw her eyes darting back towards Marco who now sat on the steps looking down at his phone. She hesitated, turning to look at Harry with a questioning gaze. He wanted to tell her not to. Why did they have to keep trying to hook her up with people? It annoyed him that he was annoyed by this. He shouldn’t have been. He knew this. She’s his best friend. She was only ever supposed to be his best friend. He was never supposed to catch feelings. But as she made up her mind and began walking towards Marco, his heart sank, and he knew he’d soon be in for a world of hurt.

He stayed silent on the walk back to the car, once again avoiding eye contact with anyone passing him on the street. He even stayed silent in the car while everyone danced and sang loudly to the radio, making a pit stop at a local grocery store to grab some ingredients for Zoey’s chocolate chip cookies that Katie requested. Aurora was the only one to notice his silence as the rest of them went inside to grab a few things. He didn’t want to go in in fear that he might be recognized, and Aurora stayed back to keep him company.

“Everything alright?” she asked, concerned.

Harry nodded, “Yeah, fine. Just tired from all that walking.”

Aurora stared at him suspiciously, “You sure that’s all?”

It didn’t feel right talking to her about this. He never really got deep into his feelings with Aurora before. This was something he’d typically talk to Zoey about during one of their deep chats. He’d go to her and whine about how he’s stressed out because he’s starting to have feelings with someone he can’t have feelings for. And he knew what Zoey’s response would be. She’d tell him to stop worrying about consequences and repercussions and follow his heart. She’s always telling him to follow his heart and not his mind. To stop worrying about the ‘what ifs’. But how could he confide in her about this when it was about her? 

He couldn’t tell Zoey. It could ruin their friendship. And he couldn’t tell Aurora, because he didn’t know how to talk to anyone else about this and didn’t know how she’d react if she found out. So he nodded and simply said, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Well, why don’t you take a little nap when we get back? The rest of us can handle dinner.”

That didn’t sound like a bad idea.

He sprung awake from his nap by the startling sensation of his bed bouncing him as Zoey, Nancy, and Aurora jumped up and down on the mattress beside him yelling about dinner being ready and to wake up. As terrified as he was a second ago, he couldn’t help but smile at his friends’ laughter and gladly went with them as they pulled him out of bed.

Harry felt his mood uplift while they ate out back again, having great conversation and laughter while enjoying the view. He forgot all about Marco while he and Zoey picked fun at each other and even recorded a group video, making sure to hide Katie’s glass of wine, for the sister’s parents. He felt his phone go off several times in his pocket, but he ignored it, enjoying the moment too much. They had sat there for at least an hour after eating when the sun finally went down and a romantic glow illuminated the terrace and the pool area. 

“Anyone else down for cookies and swimming?” Katie asked, earning cheers of agreement.

Everyone else went into their rooms to change into their bathing suits while Zoey headed to the kitchen to bake cookies. She pulled out all of the ingredients, measured them out, and prepped them in separate bowls, preheating the oven when Harry walked out, shirtless, and in his swim shorts. Her heart rate increased at the sight of him. The man really was a beautiful creature.

“Need any help?” He asked, padding over.

Zoey shook her head, avoiding eye contact, “Uhm...you could grab me a spoon from over there if you want,” she said, sifting the flour and baking soda in a medium-size bowl. As she began to crack some salt into the mixture, Harry walked over, a smirk on his face, placed the spoon on the counter, and got behind her, weaving his arms underneath hers and taking the salt out of her grip, cracking it into the bowl.

She laughed, heart beating faster at the closeness of his body on hers, feeling his firm chest on his back and his hot breath by her ear, “What are you doing?”

“Helping you make cookies, what’s it look like? Not my arm baking challenge. Come on, what’s next? You’re my eyes.” 

She giggled, wrapping her arms back behind him as best as she could, “We need to get the butter, brown sugar, and regular sugar in another bowl,” she said as he began to feel around for ingredients.

Harry smacked his hands onto the counter, knocking into the prep bowl filled with granulated sugar. He dumped it into a bigger mixing bowl, followed by the brown sugar, and butter, accidentally sticking his finger into the gooey stick, which made him groan, wiping his finger on Zoey’s shirt.

“Ew, you ass!” she shrieked, laughing and pinching his side. He yelped, cackling as she directed him, “We need to mix it.”

He felt around for the electric mixer and plopped it in the bowl, turning it on. This proved to be more difficult to do as he didn’t have that much reach. The vibrations of the mixer combined with their awkward body entanglement made them shake even more, making Harry press his body up against hers even more. Even shirtless, she could still smell his cologne, the sweet and musky scent making her mouth water, craving something both sweet and salty. Sure, they’ve hugged before. And there was that whole ‘cuddling’ thing when he came to LA during her depressive episode, but a majority of their friendship was spent apart. His physical touch was causing her head to spin.

She cleared her throat, legs feeling heavier, trying her best to push back the urge to take a bite out of him, “We need the vanilla and an egg next.”

“This should be fun,” he said, a smile in his voice as he felt around for the egg, trying his best to gently crack it against the side of the bowl. “Shit!” he breathed as egg splattered everywhere, thankfully most of it getting in the bowl.

He blended the ingredients until incorporated and now it was time to slowly add the dry ingredients. He dumped a bit into the mixing bowl, but as soon as he turned on the mixer, flour went flying, dusting her face and hair with the white mixture. She sputtered, shaking her head as he laughed, continuing to mix.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Nancy laughed, dripping wet with a towel wrapped around her, heading to the fridge. When she realized what was happening, she laughed, “You two are idiots,” grabbing a drink and making her way back out.

Finally, Harry dumped the bag full of chocolate chips into their mixture and stirred so dramatically that he shook half of Zoey’s hair out of her bun, making her belly laugh, a noise he loved to hear. The two of them both got to work forming little balls out of the dough and plopping them on the baking tray and into the oven. The batches would only take ten minutes each, so while they cooked, Harry let her leave to go change into the same baby blue one-piece swimsuit she wore to their last beach trip, her bun now in a high ponytail. 

He had just finished pulling the cookies out and was now letting them cool when he noticed her walking back into the kitchen with a towel draped on her arm. His eyes discreetly scanned her body as she inspected the cookies, looking for any hint or sign of a hidden tattoo. He saw none, and now all he could think about was what was under that bathing suit.

“Thanks for the help,” she grinned, turning to face him and leaning back against the counter.

His eyes darted away from her ass and dodgily smiled back, muttering, “No problem.”

She thought she noticed him checking her out and her heart fluttered at the thought. Maybe he was. Maybe all those little moments weren’t all in her head. She blushed at the possibility, “Let’s plate a few and take them out to the rest.”

As they stepped out onto the terrace, the sounds of laughter and splashing rang louder. Zoey bent down by the edge of the pool as everyone swam up to take a cookie, practically inhaling it.

“Uhm, excused me, bitch! Where’s the new bikini we just bought you?” Andy shot, swallowing the last bite of his cookie.

Zoey laughed, putting the now empty plate on a lounge chair and cautiously stepping into the cooled pool, “I’m saving it for my birthday tomorrow.”

Andy nodded and turned to Harry, “What are we even doing tomorrow?”

Harry stood by the lounge chairs finishing up his cookie and said, “I rented out a boat to take us over to a little island of the coast for the day. Then I made our reservations for dinner.”

“Ooh, Harry, you better watch it before you make me boujee.”

“It’s her birthday! We have to do it right!” Harry laughed, taking a running start and darting towards the pool, making a cannonball right beside Zoey, covering her in water.

They all screamed and it started the splash war. Things eventually died down. Harry and Andy were chatting at one end of the pool while Nancy, Katie, and Zoey talked nearby and Aurora was lounging on a chair beside them.

“Hey, have you texted Marco yet?” Aurora asked from the lounge, catching everyone’s attention.

Zoey turned to her, hesitantly responding, “Uh...yeah. We texted a few times.”

“I wonder what his brother looks like,” Katie thought aloud, causing the group to laugh.

Andy smirked, “You should invite them to the island with us tomorrow!”

“You’re just saying that because you want to see a half naked Italian man,” Zoey retorted back at her friend.

“So what if I am?” 

Katie’s eyes widened like a lost puppy as she clasped her hands together, “Pleeease?” she begged.

Zoey looked back to see Harry looking down at the water, curious about what he was thinking. Did she risk inviting Marco if there was a chance of Harry liking her? What was she thinking, of course, there wasn’t a chance. She finally gave in and pulled herself out of the pool, heading inside to grab her phone. Harry watched as she strutted away, a piece of him angry at everyone for asking her to do that. He knew they meant well and had no clue what was going on in his head right now, but still. The thought of Zoey with someone else right now made him feel physically sick.

After a minute Zoey came back in the pool and they carried on swimming. Katie had gone in for the night and Harry was the last one in the pool while Nancy, Andy, and Zoey all sat in the lounge chairs beside Aurora. He had just come up from the water when a loud shriek rang and a body collided with his, forcing him back under and clinging onto his back like a koala. He stood back up, shaking his hair and wiping the water from his eyes to see Zoey attached to him, giggling and attempting to get him back under the water. 

Harry laughed. He was a lot stronger than her. Their bodies were slippery from the water and he managed to slide her from her back to his front, so that they were chest to chest, her legs on either of his hips. Wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and taking a deep breath, he forced both of them under the water. When they resurfaced, she laughed, gripping onto his shoulders while he attempted to clear his eyes from the water, casually walking around the pool while still holding onto Zoey.

They heard their friends laugh from the side and Aurora said, “You guys are cute.”

The phrase stuck to him. What did that mean? Did she know? Was that her way of giving him her approval? Or was she simply saying that their friendship was innocent? Surely she didn’t know he was starting to like Zoey, otherwise, she wouldn’t have mentioned Marco earlier, right? Or maybe she did that on purpose? Girls were so confusing. 

“No, I’m cute,” Zoey responded.

And as much as Harry didn’t want to let go of her, he didn’t want his thoughts to be too obvious, so he took her firmly by the side and tossed her back into the water. A little yelp sounded before she went under.

Once again, Harry and Zoey were the last ones up, still swimming around, finally getting to have their first deep chat in a week, talking about family, and Zoey wanting to go home to visit soon.

“I’m sorry,” Zoey laughed, standing up from her floating position on her back, ”you don’t have to stay up with me. I could stay in here for hours. My parents always called me a fish when I was little.”

Harry shook his head, standing up and floating closer to her, “No it’s fine. I’m not tired yet.” 

Zoey smiled, leaping on his side, “Thanks for today. It was fun.”

“I bet you knew most of the historical facts already with all the research you did on Rome,” Harry teased, once again sliding her around so that they were chest to chest, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning back slightly so that they could float.

Zoey’s hands were situated behind his neck and she laughed, “Yeah, a good chunk. But it was still nice to see them and not have to wait in line.”

Harry chuckled and spun her around a few times which made her giggle more. He slowed down and got more serious, looking up at her, “So. Marco?”

Her eyes avoided his and she solemnly said, “I guess so. Everyone else seems super into him.”

“And you’re not?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know. What do you think?”

Their eyes met and he was pretty sure if you listened close enough you could hear his heart pounding. He was surprised that she couldn’t feel it as her body pressed against his. He suddenly became so aware of how close they were that his nerves began to rise. She was right here. Her face inches from his. He thought he might have noticed her eyes flickering from his down towards his lips, but he couldn’t be too sure because he was doing exactly that. The invisible pull was tugging on him so powerfully. He could kiss her right now. He could try.

But just before he leaned in, Zoey cleared her throat, pulling away and letting her legs fall from his hips into a standing position. She looked uncomfortable and flustered, scratching the back of her head and looking all around before spotting the pool steps, “Uhm, you know what? I’m actually a little tired now. I think I’m going to head in.”

Instantly he felt stupid for almost kissing her, and annoyed at himself for finding it so difficult to control his feelings for her. He never had a problem avoiding someone or pushing people he might have been interested in away. He couldn’t do that with her. She meant too much to him. As selfish as it was, he needed her in his life. Even if it meant that it would be as friends. Though he became increasingly aware of just how much he wanted something more.

KEEP READING

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Taglist for Somebody To You:

@thurhomish , @stilljosiegrossie , @odetostep , @apples2019 , @stylesmioamore

[neshatriumphs]

III. A Blood Oath

Grace was adorned in many plants and flowers. They were covering her body, covering her hair. Only her face was to be seen as she walked through the woods, grounding her energy with the earth beneath her toes. Lucy was there, armed and alert for any type of disturbance. This was the last day of Grace’s recovery process and this was her last ritual. She would bathe in the lagoon and let the flowers and herbs complete her healing. Lucy was to keep watch. Grace danced around in the water, practiced a little floral related magic and some water, twirling her fingers to make a water dome over her head, then collapse it onto herself with a huge splash. 

Lucy collected her, covering her in the flowing purple dress that she had brought along for after the bath. Grace swirled the winds around her to dry herself then reached for her bag from Lucy. Before she could reapply her mark, they heard something.

Grace collected Lucy in one arm and levitated them above the trees, until she saw the source of the noise. It was a man… She lowered them a little ways away, behind some bushes, and studied him. She didn’t recognize him, so he either was not from here, wandering through, or worse… He was from the Conductor. 

The blond had what appeared to be either red dirt or an inexplicable amount of blood in his long hair and when he reached the lagoon, he began to drink with both of his hands cupped. He splashed his face, sputtered and wiped off the flowers she left behind. He picked up one in the palm of his hand and suddenly looked around him, suspiciously. Lucy ducked, but Grace knew that she had them both cloaked, so she didn’t move. He sighed, and flung the flower into the dirt, where he then proceeded to toss his equipment and clothes. Grace gasped. Lucy covered her eye that wasn’t in an eye patch. “We should go,” she suggested. “This boy is just taking a bath, like you were.”

“That’s no boy, Lucy,” Grace said in a stern voice, but she practically whimpered, “It’s a man!” 

Lucy uncovered her eye just to look at Grace with disgust. “Careful Princess, you’ll rust your chastity belt.”

“Lucy!” Grace hissed. They both paused and looked back at the man, Lucy reflexively covered her face again and Grace softly said, “I don’t know him, so we’ll have to figure out who he is. If he’s a wanderer, he should have proof of safe passage from one of the Witches of the One. If he’s new, he should have a coven to account for him. If not… He might be…” He stepped beneath the waterfall and as the dirt began to clear from his pale skin, they saw the runes.

“A conductor,” they both said. Lucy readied her weapon. “He’s unsuspecting. Now is the time to attack.”

“If it isn’t a trap. We don’t know his level of magic, Lucy. I can’t get a reading of him with all of those runes. I need longer to assess him. Go back to the fortress and alert the coven.”

“I can’t leave you here with this heretic!”

“It’s an order, Lucy! I’m fully recovered. I’ll be fine. Don’t take too long.”

Lucy groaned, but made a few movements to help herself summon a flock of birds to fly her to the fortress. Grace watched the man, suspiciously now, but… she wasn’t blind. He was very well put together. He exercised or did some type of body maintaining fake magic. He had one of those interesting little “V”s that she had seen on the pelvis of some of the shirtless warriors as they practiced in the courtyard - not frequently, but at least a couple of them had one. He also had a patch of blond hair on his sleek abdomen. One of her witches had called that a “happy trail,” then they all laughed when Grace asked why it was called that. She guessed that was because of where it led to. She tried to make sure she DIDN’T look at that. She was here for surveillance, not… salaciousness! 

She shifted a little, then leaned down to grab her sneakers from her bag, since she probably had time, while he was showering. The pink and purple shoes were tied and she clicked on her bag to her body and stood, only to be face to face with a naked stranger. She ALMOST yelped, but fortunately, her reflexes were quick and she’d covered her mouth instead. He was peering and reached out a hand, almost about to touch her face, but she did a back bend to avoid his notice. He summoned underwear, thank goodness, but still looked very leery as he stared there, knowing someone or something was present, even though she couldn’t be seen at the moment. When he was dressed, he held his palms in front of himself and his runes and eyes began to glow green. Grace stepped back, ready to try to levitate, when he said, “There you are!” Reached out and grabbed what he could only see as a sparkling green woman with bouncy locs of hair.

She laughed, “You got me. Unhand, please.” She shook him off of her gloved arms and groaned, “How are you seeing me? My cloaking technique is the purest and most sophisticated in this realm. I should literally look like part of the ecosystem right now.”

“You hid in the least magic portion of this place. Nothing right here is magic, except for you.”

She tilted her head and looked around her, then back at him, “You… can see magic.”

He traced a rune on his neck and said, “A gift from the Conductor.” Now, she frowned and he smirked, “I know that you realized I am one of theirs, just like I realize the one you belong to.” His facial expression went cold and his glowing stopped. She made herself visible and she noticed that he blushed whenever he saw her face. “Oh!” He said, then frowned.

“What?”

“You were hiding yourself, so I just presumed that you’d be ugly. I guess you were hiding yourself because you’re too pretty?” 

She gushed, trying not to smile too big, but flattery was her love language and he was very attractive. VERY. ATTRACTIVE. So, she failed and her smile spread like butter. “You’re very pretty, too!”

He glared. “I’m not pretty! I’m a man. A rugged, handsome, male person. Not pretty. Powerful.”

Now, her smile faded into a smirk and her brown eyes were challenging. “Well, I’m pretty AND powerful.”

“There is only one witch in your entire camp that could potentially face off with my skill level, and that’s your little princess,” he said. “The Conductor has told me about your people.”

“My people rarely bother to talk about your kind, but I do hear mumbling whenever I’m among the commoners. They care.” she shrugged her shoulders and began to walk away. 

He narrowed his eyes and followed her, “You think it’s safe to turn your back to a proclaimed practitioner of the Conductor’s magic?”

“Yep!” She answered, making the P sound loud when she did. He was infuriated by the sheer audacity of this One witch! But the purple dress swished in the wind, almost like there were fairies dancing with her and holding on to it and she smelled like flowers and fruit and looked like a religious vision, so his words of protest caught in his throat. But, he had made contact with his target, so, he at least had that going for him. Amelia never mentioned that she might be in a gown with splits up to her thighs… powerful, graceful thighs that looked both incredibly strong and unbelievably soft. 

“You’ve got some kind of enchantment on me,” he said. She stopped and looked at him. “You’re making me attracted to you with magic to keep yourself safe!”

“I don’t know whether to be insulted that you think that I would NEED to do that, or honored that you think I’m so attractive it can’t be your real feelings. I’m right there in the middle at this moment, but leaning towards being insulted.” He grabbed her wrist and turned her around, but whenever she turned, a wave of power rang out and knocked him onto his back, several feet away. She gasped and covered her mouth, “Oh my One! Are you okay?” She asked. “That’s my mother’s magic. I’ve got a barrier that sends out a bit of a magic shock wave when someone intends to harm me.” She leaned over him and smiled, “So, don’t try me again, okay?” She held out her gloved hand to help him up and he begrudgingly allowed her to. 

“How did your mother make something so potent to guard you?”

“It’s natural magic, so it’s just potent on it's own. We don’t need to enhance with runes or talismans. We use the magic that’s already present and we attach it to what we have inside. My mother weaved this protective spell with her love for me and it takes the natural emotion of my aggressor and translates that to an attack, to bounce back on them.”

“What.”

“My mom didn’t make the attack potent. Your negativity did. You’re a very angry person, Fake Witch. Your aura feels disturbing.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I was gonna call you Happy Trail, but that seemed inappropriate,” she giggled.

“Simon.”

“Simon What?”

“Simon... Says,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Simon Sais,” she thought she repeated. “Never heard that name before. Are you one of the orphans the Conductor collects for her fake magic school?”

“She!” He fumed, then took a deep breath. “She saved my life and gave me a chance when the Witches of the One would have let me die an infant in my mother’s arms.”

“That doesn’t sound like us,” Grace said. “I’ll bet I’m the first Witch of the One that you’ve ever even met!” He was frustrated, but she was right. It didn’t matter. Amelia had told him about how his mother’s only wish was that he never trust the witches that refused to help her baby boy grow into a man. She died shortly after he was given to Amelia to be rescued.

“I’ve studied them my entire life,” he said. That much was true. He learned about how they hide, who they ally with, their familiars and wanderers, and the spaces that were conduits for their magic - places where they became more powerful. He spent every waking moment of his life taking out as many of them as he could, and this one would be a challenge, but Amelia wouldn’t have sent him if she didn’t fully believe that he was ready.

.

“So… someone broke MY spell? How is that possible? You’re the only person in the world with more runes than me!”

“I’ve told you before, the One witches don’t use runes, they use surroundings and internal magic. Did you leave anything behind that she could have used?”

“No! I know what I’m doing, Amelia! I’ve never made a mistake before!”

Samantha walked up, “I believe, that perhaps… it was my doing, Simon.” The cat lowered her face and admitted, “I left a small print, as a dedication in a moment of weakness and sentiment. I’m sorry..” 

Amelia rushed towards her, ready to kill her, but Simon stepped in front of the woman. “What are you doing? She said that she was sorry.”

“She IS sorry. Worthless. A useless old remnant of a dead bloodline!”

“My loyalty is to Simon. My apology was for him,” Samantha said. 

Simon collected her and cradled her to his chest. “She made a simple mistake. The first one ever in years. You can’t be mad at her for that.”

“I can and I am. Thanks to her, our power has been challenged, Simon. That princess is going to think that she can counter every attack that we send her way and what if she’s right? What if your fondness for this trifle of a creature makes you weak?”

“Amelia, you’re upset. Samantha and I will give you some space.” Samantha smiled at Amelia as Simon walked away, holding her protectively. “You really put me in a bad place, Samantha.”

“In a way, I put you in a good place.”

“In what way?” he asked, extremely annoyed.

“Amelia is livid. She won’t send for you for days. You can work on your little figures.” She padded her feet onto his chest and he sighed.

“This isn’t funny, Samantha. My record is in jeopardy. Amelia is doubting me now!” He put the cat down and shook his head, “Retire to my chambers. I’m going to figure out what I can do to make this right.” Samantha sighed and reluctantly followed her master’s instructions.

Amelia was looking into an orb, her eyes and runes glowing green and her hair blowing in the wind. He was going to step back out, but her demonic voice called, “Stay. You have work to do.”

Simon came to her and kneeled, “I am your soldier, Conductor. What work do you give me?”

“I entrust you to kill the one that they hail as the Heiress, the Princess who has been ordained to destroy you.” His head snapped upwards at the green smoke, forming a girl, with a mask on that was white, with a black line around it and two circular gems.

“Destroy me?”

“Your destinies are intertwined. If you don’t kill her, she will be the cause of your downfall.”

He stood up and looked at the smoke image. “I will kill her, then!”

“She’s no typical witch. She’s one of their most powerful, and she has magic that is specific to you.”

“How is that possible?”

“You must get her to trust you, to weaken her, and kill her when she has let her guard down.”

“I have to… to get to know her? Conductor…”

“Or you will be destroyed.” He sighed and nodded. The smoke poofed away, the glowing stopped and Amelia leaned onto the basin the orb was in, catching her breath. Her voice was back to normal, as she was no longer channeling the Conductor’s magic. “Simon… She will use anything that she can to make YOU the weak one. You must get close to her, but don’t let her get close to you. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Simon… if you’re found out, it could endanger this institute, and everything we’ve built. That girl is a poison, a rot. You can’t let her near us.”

“I won’t let her destroy what we’ve built.” 

“I need you to take a blood oath.”

“You really think that she’s that powerful? That she’ll be able to woo me so deeply that you need to swear on my life that I’ll take hers?”

“I need you to know how important this mission is.”

He nodded and raised his fist into the air, “On the duty and honor of my own blood, I will spill the blood of my enemy and take her life.” Amelia reached for her wand and drew a rune beneath his armpit to signify the oath that he was making. 

“Bathe yourself in the blood of our enemies, and cleanse it off in their own waters.” He nodded.

.

Presently, next to the untrustworthy princess with her mother’s love repellent and her… hips swaying like a dancer as she walked, he wouldn’t forget what Amelia told him, and he couldn’t fail. Not only did the future of all of the Conductor’s followers depend on it, but he had sworn on his life to kill her. Maybe that spell was why he needed to get her to trust him? Sometimes, Amelia didn’t seem to get the full grasp of her visions… He froze. 

There was a creature here. He could sense it. The witch had continued marching straight ahead, cheerfully and carefree, but he knew they weren’t alone. Simon moved to activate his sight, but before he could something large and black slapped him to the ground and hovered over him. A. GOHM. 

The story was that if you met one, you would know it, even though nobody seemed to be able to tell you what they looked like. His? It looked like a hideous roach with tentacles in it’s mouth on a dog’s body and it was doing what they were known to do, draining the magic right out of wizards… He heard something that sounded like a loud screeching noise before a blinding light shined and the gohm cowered and rushed away. 

Simon could hardly breath and checked his runes and his body. He was alive. He was safe. He saw the princess, reaching out to help him up again. “Wow! Cannot leave you by yourself for two seconds!” 

He stared at her hand, confused. “You… you saved me.”

She placed her hands on her hips and laughed, “What? Do you fake magic folk let visitors die on your soil when your most dangerous beasts come to attack?” 

He pulled himself up from the ground and said, “If our most dangerous beasts attack, there’s nothing that we could do to help.”

She shook her head, “that’s why i don’t trust fake magic. That little guy was about to drain you dry and turn you to dust. You’re so rich with magic, he’d probably explode from gorging himself. With natural magic, all you gotta do is show him that you’ve got too much to handle and they run… Now… if you didn’t have enough, that’d be a different story.”

“How did you show him your magic? How can anybody tell your levels without seeing your runes?”

“You know how you can see magic with your little fake trick or whatever?”

“It’s real. I can actually USE the magic!”

“Okay. That was an opinion. The point is that I can move it. And I don’t have to see it. I just gather everything around me to myself and HE can sense it. 

“How did you glow all white?”

She laughed and asked, “What?”

“You were glowing white…”

“Maybe you were seeing things because you were getting ghom sucked. Come on… We’ll get you taken care of at my place. Lucy’s got the coven on standby already.”

[psychosistr]

FOWL Facets- Chapter 3

Summary: Left alone with nothing else to talk about, Gandra gets Loony to tell her how exactly she and the rest of the team know Blue Diamond’s strongest and most prized lapis lazuli so well.

Notes: Okay, getting into some backstory finally with this one!

-First Chapter-

Once Domino’s gone, Gandra looks at Loony from her spot against the wall. “So, what’s the deal with you three and this Liquidator guy? I heard he’s Blue Diamond’s favorite lapis lazuli, but I’ve never heard anything about him working for F.O.W.L.”

Loony has a confused look on her face before the realization seems to dawn on her. “Oh riiiiiiiight, that was before you joined.” Her body returns to its usual proportions so that she’s standing by Gandra properly again. “Before the war, Liqui used to go on missions with us all the time!”

Gandra raises an eyebrow curiously at the statement. “So he is a F.O.W.L. agent?”

“Nope.” Lonny shakes her head. “He never joined F.O.W.L., but he does know about it.”

“Wait,” Gandra just looks even more confused by the spinel’s explanation. “If he’s not an agent, then why did he go on missions with you and the guys?”

“Because we were friends!” Loony answers matter-of-factly with a smile. “The four of us used to have so much fun…”

A planet lay in ruins, looking as if it were the scene of a horrible, destructive war. Buildings had been leveled. Bodies lined the streets and fields- all filled with bullet holes or lying with crushed limbs and necks. A good portion of the planet was on fire while the rest had been flooded under their planet’s own sea water.

On the planet’s surface, though, there were only two groups fighting: One was a large army of organic creatures with orange skin, multiple limbs, and three eyes- although their army was huge and their weapons fairly advanced, the bodies strewn across the planet all seemed to be that of their own kind. The other was a small group of four gems venturing further into the enemy’s territory, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake.

At the front of the pack, Loony leapt and stretched all over the battlefield, drawing the enemy’s fire. “Bet you can’t catch me!” She teased, sticking her tongue out at them.

The soldiers tried to fire their weapons at her, but the glowing red shots just bounced off of her skin harmlessly. While they were distracted by Loony, however, the other gems were able to take out the soldiers from behind.

“Incoming!!” One of the soldiers shouted in fear as a blinking red egg-shaped crystal was thrown at them.

The soldiers tried to scatter, but, before they could get far, a large white barrier began to close around them, forming a dome that trapped many of them inside with the crystal. They tried desperately to break through the barrier, both from the inside and the outside, but it was no use. The shield held strong, not even cracking when the crystal turned completely red before detonating in a blinding red light, destroying everything within the dome in a controlled explosion.

“A warning would be appreciated next time.” Domino snapped his fingers, finally letting the barrier drop to reveal the smoking crater within. “I could have made it bigger- then we would have gotten more than half of them.”

“Dom, Dom, Dom,” Steelbeak shook his head from where he stood next to Domino on a floating diamond-shaped platform made of black energy. The melanite’s beak was shorter with a smoother look to it back then. He also sported a yellow bowtie instead of a black one and his eyebrows were a bit less defined. “You’re thinkin’ too small, snowflake. Killin’ ‘em all at once is too easy.” He lobbed another glowing crystal at the scattered soldiers, watching as Domino once again formed a white dome-barrier around the organic creatures to ensure their death. “Where’s the style? Where’s the pizzazz? Where’s the FUN?” He pointed down towards the fourth member of their group on the ground below them, leaning closer to his partner to speak in a conspiratorial whisper. “Besides- we gotta keep someone entertained, right?”

Domino glanced down, watching as the water along the battlefield began to recede in preparation for what was to come. “You do have a point there.” He brought his fingers to his beak and whistled, gaining the attention of the spinel still playing around with the soldiers and their futile attempts to shoot her. “Loony, time to go!”

Loony stretched her head up above where her body was grabbing and throwing the organics aside with ease, making it easier for her to shout over to Domino and Steelbeak. “Awww, already?”

“ ‘fraid so, Loons.” Steelbeak nodded behind her poignantly. “It’s drippy’s turn t’ play.”

Loony turned her head to see behind her, her earlier pout quickly turning into an excited smile. “Oooh, that’s gonna be a BIG one!”

With a flick of his fingers, Steelbeak summoned a series of slightly smaller black diamond-shaped platforms between them and Loony. The stretchy spinel was able to stretch and flip up the panels with the ease of ascending a staircase, joining the other gems on the bigger platform high above the battlefield. She got up there just in time, it seemed, as no more than a minute later a roaring tidal wave washed over the ground below them.

Standing on top of the wave was the Liquidator- a tall, buff, intimidating being that looked like a dog made completely out of water with a tear-drop cut royal blue lapis lazuli gemstone visible in his right hand. His outfit consisted mainly of a long royal blue colored robe similar to a yukata with midnight blue trim and a subtle rippling wave-pattern in sapphire blue throughout the garment that culminated around a shining blue diamond-shaped insignia on his chest, the outfit tied shut with a dark oxford blue sash at his waist. The whole outfit appeared to be made of the same water as his body, constantly moving and rippling at the same rate as the rest of his form with the bottom of the robe just being part of the puddle connecting him to the massive wave below him.

The battlefield became part of the ocean that had claimed the planet in virtually no time at all. With a smirk on his face, Liquidator made the water beneath him rise up so that he was level with the other gems. “Feeling drained? Stressed out from the daily grind of grinding down planets for your diamonds and/or shadowy organizations? Then relieve your stress with the fun new game literally sweeping the nation: ‘Skarwal Shooter’!” He did a grand gesture to the drowning soldiers in the water below them. “Grab a gun, line ‘em up, and take a shot at these realistic moving targets! Fun for the whole crew- guaranteed or your money back!” He controlled the water and the bodies in it, juggling them in the air and spinning them around in whirlpools.

“I wanna play!” Loony watched the flipping and flying targets with a look of pure glee and excitement on her face.

Steelbeak chuckled and touched the gem on his chest with both hands. One hand pulled out a gleaming silver tommy-gun with a jet black grip and matching stocks, while the other pulled out a matching long-barreled .38 revolver. He tossed the revolver to Loony so she’d have a weapon of her own, keeping the tommy-gun hoisted up on his shoulder. “Ya know, Liq’s, it’s a good thing we DON’T get paid, or you’d end up with half our money!”

“More than that with the games he talks you two into.” Domino shook his head with a roll of his eyes, pretending to sound annoyed but the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes was undeniably fond.

“Ah, the downsides of being a convincing salesman in a society with nothing to sell.” Liquidator chuckled, forming a chair out of the water under him so he could watch the other gems have their fun shooting at the struggling soldiers before joining in as well- shooting bullets made of ice from the tip of his finger while pointing it like a gun. “Still, there are a few things in life we can enjoy- even if I can’t take your paychecks!”

They all smiled and grinned in their own ways while picking off the last of the soldiers, enjoying their sadistic version of “shooting fish in a barrel”.

Hours later, after double and triple checking that the last of the organics had been wiped out, Loony led Liquidator through the ship with her hands covering his eyes. “Alrighty, Liqui, just a liiiiittle further..and remember, no peeking!”

Liquidator chuckled at the spinel’s antics, but obliged and kept his eyes in place behind her grey-gloved hands. “You have the Liquidator-brand 100% peek-free guarantee…but that guarantee is good for a limited time only, so act now.”

“Okaaaaayyy, now!” She removed her hands from in front of his eyes, finally allowing him to see again.

“??” When he opened his eyes and looked in front of him, Liquidator saw the hall holding the other gems’ rooms. His eyes widened when he saw that the door at the end of the hall, which had previously been left blank, now had an image of his own gemstone embedded in it. “Is..Is that…?”

“Yep!” Loony grinned as she grabbed his hand, guiding it over to the panel by the door.

When his hand touched the panel, the door slid open, allowing them to walk in together. He saw Domino and Steelbeak waiting inside, both looking pleased at his reaction.

“Told ya we’d get ‘im good with this one!” Steelbeak grinned smugly, his arms folded in front of his chest. “He didn’t see it comin’ at all!”

Domino sighed and shook his head with an exasperated smile at his partner’s attitude. “That IS the point of a surprise..” He looked back over to Liquidator. “So, what do you think?”

Liquidator looked around the room, fully taking in all the little details. As with most of the rooms, there wasn’t a lot of furniture, but there was still a table carved from light blue crystals with matching chairs that were made to look as if they were carved from ice. The left half of the room had been converted into a small pool filled with crystal clear water, the bottom of it lined with glowing blue crystals that bathed the entire room in a soft, ethereal glow. What made him smile the most, though, was that on the right side of the room on the wall above the table and chairs was a holo-disk displaying an image of the four of them after their first mission together: Liquidator standing in the middle of the image with his arms crossed, Domino on his right, Steelbeak on his left, and Loony stretched up behind him with her hands making shapes behind Domino and Steelbeak’s heads so they looked like they had mammalian ears.

He looked at the trio of darker gems with a grin that was even brighter (and far more genuine) than the one he’d had earlier on the battlefield. “Nine out of ten royal blue lapis lazuli’s agree: This room is perfect.”

“You’d better not be that tenth one, Liq,” Steelbeak teased the lapis lazuli with an equally bright grin. “ ‘cause we ain’t redecoratin’! You’d better appreciate this- we don’t go around givin’ just ANYONE a spot on the crew, ya know?”

“I know.” Liquidator’s grin softened into a smile. “And I appreciate it.”

They all shared a smile over the blue gem’s words. He only dropped the salesman-talk when he was being genuine, something they’d come to understand after many missions together.

“We need to celebrate!” Loony jumped up, wrapping her arms around Liquidator and leaping at the pool. “Pool party!”

They landed with a big splash (a bit too big for Liquidator NOT to have been a part of it). The resulting wave went far enough to wash over both Steelbeak and Domino.

“Hey!” Steelbeak scowled when he got soaked from head to toe, trying to shake the water out of his comb. A mild glare was added to his expression when he looked at his partner and saw that the snowflake obsidian was completely dry thanks to a thin, translucent white shield encasing his entire body. “Really? Ya couldn’t’ve got me, too?”

“I could..” Domino side-eyed his partner with a teasing smirk when his barrier dissipated. “But where’s the FUN in that?” He paraphrased the taller gem’s words with a quiet chuckle.

“Oh, so you actually LIKE havin’ fun, huh?” Steelbeak’s eyes briefly flicked to the pair in the pool, the two gems grinning as they returned the unspoken sentiment in full.

“Well it IS a party, after all.” The loon missed the conspiratorial glances around him. “And what better place to have fun than a party?”

“Yeah, you’re right, it IS a party.” Steelbeak grinned down at the other gem, subtly moving one hand behind his back. With a flick of his fingers, a small black diamond appeared under Domino’s feet. “A POOL party.”

Before the obsidian had time to react, the diamond shaped platform tilted upwards at an angle, sending him off balance. When he tried to regain his footing, he ended up stepping on one of Loony’s outstretched arms and falling backwards into a small wave generated by Liquidator- the wave quickly drawing him back so that he ended up in the pool alongside the other two occupants.

“……” Domino had ended up at the bottom of the pool before slowly floating back to the top, lying on his back on the water’s surface as he calmly spit a small stream of the liquid from his beak. “Alright…” He closed his eyes for a moment, his expression neutral and unreadable as he stood and retrieved his hat from where it was floating nearby. Once it was back in its proper place, he opened his eyes and looked at the rest of the ship’s small crew with a smirk. “If that’s how we’re going to play...” He withdrew one of his pistols from his gem, the barrel inside turning an icy blue color.

“Ice bullets!” Loony shouted while jumping out of the pool. “Run!”

They all ran away from the pool, laughing at the impromptu game of (literal) freeze-tag that had begun. It was a fun and fitting way to welcome their newest official member to the crew…

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

End Notes: This part was a lot of fun to write ^^ The battle scene from the past put all of their skills to good use while the scene with Liquidator’s room got to show a more relaxed side of the team- a good work-life balance, at the end of the day.

[arlandvery]

Alabaster Stones (Come and Lay Your Bones) Chapter 1

So this was a thing I came up with purely because I love a/b/o and harem/concubine fics but I never find any of the latter, let alone the both in the same fic. So, you know how it goes, if you can’t find it, write it yourself!

Honestly this wouldn’t have been a thing if not for @veninos-posion, who, again, is kind enough to listen to me ramble and not get spooked, but also talks my ideas out with me and offers suggestions. You rock, Veninos!

I’m doing a new thing for me and posting all the chapters separately, but I will go back and link everything from fic to fic, and update my masterlist, so we’re cool there! It’s also on ao3 here

tw: this chapter has very explicit sex and mentions of abortion via moon tea, post heat. It’s not graphic, but it does upset her.

Tomura’s lab was dark and warm. He preferred to keep it that way- often the powders and potions and spells that were stored, being worked on, or brewed there were light sensitive, and so there were no windows and the barest of candles needed to work by. Colored smoke hung in the air the color of crushed grass, lights sparking inside it, crackling like sparks.

Tomura himself sat at his worktable, fingers stained with chalk and blood, the ritual circle drawn out with its familiar shapes and arcane lettering. Sitting inside the innermost circle was a skull, with four of his fingers pressed around it. The skull was a morbid work of art; it had begun as the skull of a virgin, the seventh daughter or a seventh daughter, killed on a full moon on her seventh birthday. Tomura himself had then stripped, cleaned and bleached it to it’s current horrifying white, then infused it with veins of gold. Its eye sockets were fitted with carved amber in a mockery of eyes, and inside of the dome were arcane symbols pressed with obsidian.

The project had taken weeks, his first major work of magic, and it was his most valuable tool- with the proper precautions and spell work Tomura could look through it’s eyes and see anything he wanted. It was a tool that Tomura often made use of- sometimes at the behest of his master. Other times he wanted to see for himself.

Tonight was one of those times.

Red eyes stared unblinkingly at the amber, mouth cracked and split and sealed in a firm line.

The suite afforded to the Emperor’s favored omega were lush and soft. Tomura had intimate knowledge of the harem and its décor; those rooms were so opulent it was disgusting, costly beautiful fabrics, gleaming furniture, carved inlets. These rooms…these rooms were so lovely they nearly didn’t look real. These rooms, meant for the mother of the heir, for the favored concubine, had been made beautiful and further infused with magic. Lights floated around the nest- and oh, the nest! Cushions and blankets and sheets and the Emperor’s best clothes coated in his scent, woven and blended together to her comfort. The bath was charmed to keep the water heated, and there were dozens of other superficial charms and spells for comfort and pleasure of the omega. A songbird in an elaborate cage flitted about, singing it’s song, feathers glittering like jewels in the light, books were tucked in cozy corners, a basket for sewing…anyone would kill to have a room so lovely.

But Tomura wasn’t watching the room.

Instead he watched the bodies writhing together, crimson eyes wide and unblinking.

Sensei and his favorite omega twined together during the throes of her heat. Tomura watched with bated breath as she bared her neck for him, he could see the golden collar around her neck, gleaming, preventing a mating mark. Sensei’s hips rocked with enough force that it shook her body, her mouth open in a silent wail, eyes sightless in pleasure in want.

“Please, alpha, alpha I need it, need you,” She begged, her voice hollow through the magic he was using.

“Do you, omega? Are you going to be good for me? Take my seed, carry my pups?” Tomura’s chest tightened at those words, at Sensei’s steady tone. He was so calm, unbothered, despite the omega being split open on his cock and begging for it. He’d seen alphas lose it over less than that.

She cried out at his words, nodded like a doll getting her string tugged. “Yes! Yes alpha, yes, I want them- I want your pups, please let me-” She looked so desperate, skin flushed and sweaty. The room would be soaked with her pheromones by now, dripping with it. They��d been at it for hours now- the smell of sugar and vanilla would be enough to choke a lower alpha.

Tomura swallowed audibly, biting down on the inside of his cheek. Sweat beaded on his skin. He felt filthy watching this, but he was helpless to stop it.

“You’ll get them,” Sensei promised, pausing, ignoring her wailing in distress to pat at her cheek. “You’ve been such a good omega; you always have been.” He resumed fucking her, going straight back to the brutal pace he’s begun with. “I’ll fill you, mark you forever, just for me. Gonna grow fat with my pups, little alphas, all of them. They’ll lead armies and expand the empire, the perfect legacy,” those promises meant nothing to her. All she heard was the promise of young, of fulfilling her duty. Pups she could dote on and nurture.

His heart pounded, imagining the scent of her, the sensation of her flesh, her cunt. The taste of her tears, the sting of her nails digging into him. Those sweet pleas, all for him. She’d be the jewel of his kingdom, he’d mark her, make her his wife, not just the favored omega- he’d never leave her uncertain like that. He’d fill her, she’d never not be pregnant, never be empty again, heat or no heat.

Sensei grunted, stuttering to a stop, signaling that he’d locked in with his knot. Tomura looked away, chest heaving in want. He was so hard it fucking hurt. He wanted to do something about it, but that would man breaking the spell’s connection.

Tomura realized that he’d been grinding his teeth by the ache in his jaw and reluctantly loosened the clench. One day he’d grind his teeth into dust, he was sure, and then where would he be?

For 3 days Tomura ate nothing and drank little, keeping the connection open, forcing himself to watch as the heat roared and Sensei got creative, taunting and petting and mocking his pretty omega concubine.

Finally, when the heat burned out, she was curled at her alphas side, soft hands on him, thanking him for his generosity.

Sensei allowed her that, but soon he removed himself from the nest, ignoring her crestfallen face. He made tea in the fireplace, ignoring her growing misery as he boiled the herb and finally poured it into a tea cup for her.

“Drink up, my dear.” He smiled cheerfully, holding out the cup, as though this were any other act. An alpha treating his omega. She stared at it, eyes empty, before daring a look up at him.

Her voice was soft, pleading. Tomura was willing to bet that her scent had changed, trying to wheedle what she wanted from Sensei. It wouldn’t work. This happened every time. “Please alpha, you promised me…”

“I decide what happens to you, pet. Now, drink your tea and speak no more.” She shuddered, staring at the foul smelling, evil concoction.

“I…but my purpose…”

“Is to pleasure me. You are my concubine. Of course, should you wish to have pups, Tomura’s position would be a lot less clear, wouldn’t it? Against a flesh and blood heir, well, he might be dismissed.” Without another word, the omega drank her tea, tears marring her face.

There was a sour taste in Tomura’s mouth. Was it blood or bile?

“Good girl.” Sensei patted her head and left her alone in her empty nest, body betraying her by her alpha’s order.

Tomura was the only witness as she curled into herself and cried silently, hands on her abdomen. There might be a pup there or there might not be. The potion was still painful.

“Mother,” he whispered, finally releasing the spell.

Tomura bathed after it was over, then he collapsed in his bed. The young alpha slept for nearly 2 days before his body demanded food and he was forced to dress and join Sensei for dinner, something that the older man had always insisted on.

“You might not be blood, my boy, but you are my son. And fathers and sons should at least share one meal a day.” He’d said when they’d started this tradition.

Of course, Tomura had been much younger. He hadn’t even been Tomura yet.

Tenko

Just the name was enough to make him shake with hardly restrained rage.

Darkness-the chains-noxious smells and filth-so much pain he was so scared he didn’t mean to do it please let me out let me out let me out stop hurting me let me out

But Sensei came and gave him a new name, brought him home, made him a family. It was thanks to Sensei that Tomura was as strong as he was, that his powers were in control. But in exchange, Sensei had asked for and tested Tomura’s loyalty. He challenged him, remade him into something better.

Sitting with the man though, still smelling like Mother and knowing how it made Tomura twist up in knots inside, was always the hardest thing to do. It was Sensei’s measure of his self-control- if the young alpha could refrain from attacking him in such a state, he proved his status and his control over his own instincts. The knowledge of the test never made it any easier.

“Did you witness anything interesting, Tomura?” Sensei asked, sipping his wine. His lips were twisted in a semblance of a smile.

“Not really. The maid is fucking the stable boy.” He shrugged. Little details like that meant next to nothing to Tomura, but Sensei found gossip invaluable. Often there was some kind of truth in gossip, and Tomura could witness that truth with his own eyes. An empire was built on more than blood and fire; secrets, bribery and blackmail had their place in it’s construction and keep, and Tomura was good at finding them.

“Is that all? Nothing from the kingdom to the south? From Yagi, even?” Ah, the famous attempted usurper and rebellion leader, of course things would circle back to him.

Tomura shook his head. “I don’t know where he is, no one’s set eyes on him, Sensei.” Not even Tomura himself, which was the real trick of the spell. So long as Tomura had seen them he could find them; could watch them or use them to see more.

It was because of that spell that Sensei had brought him along everywhere in the kingdom, in an effort to spread the spell’s limits. He’d met delegations, kings, queens and consorts all, beggars and thieves and merchants. But not Yagi.

Sensei made a disappointed noise and shook his head. “Slimy bastard. He’s planning something, I know it.” Tomura ate his dinner, watching his master. One hand came up to dig uselessly at his neck. The sting was grounding, kept him focused. It took conscious effort to pull his hand away again as the skin became raw beneath his scratching.

“Tenko dear, you’re hurting yourself.”

He twitched, hand dropping back into his lap at the ghost of her voice.

“How are your studies coming? I’ve heard that your swordsmanship has been slipping in my absence.”

“I was tired. I’m fine now.” The knowing glow in Sensei’s eyes said it all.

“Are you, Tomura? Were you having trouble sleeping?”

“No. I just wasn’t resting well.”

“You know, my boy, at your age, it’s normal to have desires. Urges. As an alpha you’re going to have to learn to burn off some of that energy.” Disgust roiled in Tomura’s belly.

“I know.”

“The harem is there for a purpose, my son. You are the heir, you have access to it.”

But not yours.

“I know, Sensei. You’re too generous.”

“It’s my duty as your patron to see to it that you are healthy and happy. Are you happy, Tomura?”

Tomura remembered hunger and fear and weakness. He remembered pain. He remembered the blinding sun and arms wrapping around him as he cried. Arms that brought him to the palace and educated him, made him stronger, gave him a home.

Gave him a mother.

“Yes, I’m happy.” When he thought of what had been before…why wouldn’t he be happy?

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

[writersblockandapotoftea]

A Tale of a Misfit and his Talking Lizard

Chapter 3

Read Chapter 2

@aj-the-satyr 

Grigori waved to Ashe, Galean and Jesse as their wagon headed further into Aria, rumbling on the stone street. He looked around, his eyes wide with delight. There were forges, slamming their hammers down with a comforting beat. Smells wafted through the air surrounding the market, things he never had smelled before, sweet and savoury and spicy all at once.

He looked at Nolio. The elf was speaking to someone in chainmail, hand against their chest. Grigori cocked his head.

"I have been requested at the castle," Pheo said, looking at Grigori. Grigori slumped a little bit. "As have you."

"What?"

"My lover is there, there is something we must discuss," Pheo said, his eyes flipping to Grigori's bag. Grigori nodded, stiffening slightly. He wouldn't let them hurt Ovar, no matter what. "Come on."

Grigori walked beside Pheo and the chainmail clad figure, glancing at the armour they wore. Light, over a thin leather, it was supple and moved with only a faint chinging. Grigori nodded to himself, likely an alloy of chrome and steel, very high quality. The soldier took care of the armour.

Grigori tripped over a hole in the stone, landing on his knees.

"Ouch," he muttered, standing and feeling the blood ooze from the scratches. Nolio waited for him to catch up.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, it's just a graze," Grigori said, showing it.

"Give me your hand," Ovar whispered. Grigori looked at him.

"Why?" he hissed.

"I wanna lick it."

"Why?"

"Let me lick your hand," Ovar insisted. Grigori sighed and slipped his hand into the bag, letting Ovar lick at it, digging the gravel out of it. Surprisingly, it did sting less. Grigori scratched behind Ovar's ears gently.

He paused for a minute on seeing the palace. It was stunning, there was a massive dome with crystals at the top. The stones were all rose marble and chiselled by hand to have beautiful flowers and birds that looked like the wind might rouse them from their slumber. The windows were stained glass, painting beautiful pictures.

"Pheo," a voice boomed. Grigori jumped as a huge person, he was pretty sure they were a man, strode down, a green cape settling around them, pewter hair brushed back into a neat braid. Pheo beamed and ran towards them; getting scooped up and spun around and around.

"Jal, I missed you," he cheered, kissing his cheek.

"I missed you too," Jal replied, holding him close. He looked over at Grigori. "You made a friend! Lovely!"

"Jal, he's the egg's familiar," Nolio muttered. Jal nodded.

"We'll talk about it inside," he said. "Come along, uhm, what is your name?"

"Grigori," Grigori replied, feeling put off by Jal's startling eyes. The pupils were like Ovar's. Jal blinked twice and burst out laughing.

"The dwarves named you squishy," Jal gasped out, clutching his stomach. Grigori blinked and giggled, nodding.

"Yes, yes they did."

"Come along squishy, we have much to discuss," Jal said, gesturing.

Grigori followed Nolio and him as they walked briskly through the halls, stopping to look at a staff on the wall. There was an emblem on its grip that he knew very well. An L that looked like a pickaxe.

His doma had made that.

Echo, the staff of Healers.  

They had stitched the leather, shaped the gyroscope at the top out of metal light and strong, forged the body and the base with hands that never faltered, ever.

"Steal it," Ovar piped.

"You are a horrible influence."  

"Squishy, come on," Jal called from around the corner.

"Coming," Grigori called, pushing Ovar's head back into the bag.

Grigori picked Ovar back off of the table, placing the little dragon firmly on his lap and looking down at the ground. Ovar climbed up onto his shoulders, then into his mass of curly hair, settling down.

"Really?" Grigori whispered.

"It's warm and I can see," Ovar replied.

"You are so strange," Grigori said, looking up and around. He shouldn't be here. These were all powerful mages, experienced warriors and a man Pheo pointed out to him as King Thiago. He was a twenty-year-old with a dirty tunic and a dragon. He swallowed and did his best to look serious. Pheo sat beside him and next to Pheo was Jal, sitting tall and proud. Ovar made a humming noise in his mind's ear.

What?  Grigori asked, cautiously trying out telepathy.

Jal is a really powerful dragon,  Ovar replied. Grigori blinked.

He looks human.

He's a dragon, and so is the man sitting next to him.  Ovar replied.

Pheo?

The other one, moron,  Ovar groaned. Grigori leaned forward slightly, seeing blue hair a bare chest and gold eyes.

Wow,  Grigori marvelled.  His hair looks like spun sapphires.

You're odd.  

A throat cleared and all the conversation around the table stopped. King Thiago stood up, hands on the table in front of him.

"We are faced with a very serious problem," he started. "To the east, Elianore conquers and pillages the Marish and Bitai. To the west, Jaclyn hunts dragons and giants."

"Do we know what they want?" the blue-haired man asked, crossing his arms.

"We have an idea for Elianore, thanks to her foolish attempt to steal Mishka the Keeper's egg. We believe that she may be seeking to go through to Phuina and find the Garden of Lila."

There were discontented mutterings.

"Then why is she going after a baby dragon?" Grigori asked, watching Ovar climb down into his palm. "Wouldn't it be faster to get help from an older dragon because they have more magic?" he continued, looking over to Jal, hoping he hadn't misspoken.

"Because only infant dragons can be fooled into leading someone unworthy to the gardens," Jal explained, smiling softly as Ovar climbed back onto Grigori's shoulder. "And only Thaiga Dragons can find what we think she's looking for."

"Is that Mishka's hatchling?" A wizard asked, looking at Ovar, who had now slunk into Grigori's tunic.

"I... I don't know," Grigori said. Ovar poked his head out of Grigori's tunic.

"I am," he said. "We're going to go visit her."

The council all raised their eyebrows. Thiago looked at Grigori, who slunk back into his chair.

"We?" he asked.

"Grigori and me," Ovar said, snuggling closer to Grigori. "He's my familiar."

The court went silent for a few moments. Grigori grinned at Ovar, who licked his chin and scrambled out of his shirt, moving back into his hair.

"But he's not Awakened," One mage said, crossing her arms. "You're a dragon, you could have any familiar in the world."

Ovar stretched, rolling back and forth on his limbs.

"This boy is mine," he said. "And I am his and I will fight all of you before I let you separate us."

"Ovar," Grigori whispered, his heart swelling. He reached up and took Ovar gently in his arms. "Thank you," he mumbled, rocking him and scratching his ears and Ovar rumbled contentedly.

"Then an escort is in order for the two of you to make it safely to the nesting grounds," Jal said, looking at Thiago, who nodded. "Pheo, Syralth and I shall stay here to prepare to defend Aria as the two hordes draw closer."

"I will stay as well," the female mage said.

Two generals also said they would stay, leaving three people. The king, the queen and a female soldier who hadn't said anything. Thiago turned to her.

"Sacha?"

"I'll go with them with two of my best," she said softly. "And he has to be Awakened before we leave. I'm not going through Jaclyn and Elianore's territories without a mage."

"Right," Thiago said, looking at the blue haired man. "Syralth, you and Jal are the only ones I know who can do it."

"In the end, the choice isn't ours to make," Syralth replied. "It is Grigori's and Grigori's alone, no matter how much we beg and scream."

The court turned and looked at Grigori, who squirmed in his chair. He wanted to be Awakened, but he really, really didn't want to die and he wanted more time to think about it. Ovar looked up at him.

I won't let you die.  His voice whispered in Grigori's mind. Grigori nodded slowly.

"I, I'll do it," he said softly.

"Alright, we will do it in three days, at midnight," Syralth said. "Unless someone objects." The court remained silent. "Three days at midnight it is then."

"Until then, Grigori, please enjoy the palace. You may go," Thiago said gently. Grigori nodded and left the room, carrying Ovar close to his chest. An androgynous human was standing just outside.

"I am Brutus. I'll take you to your rooms so that you may bathe."

"Bathe?" Grigori asked, following them. Brutus wrinkled their nose.

"You sit in water and we take off the coating of grime on you."

"Sit. In. Water."

"Yes."

"Do you want me to freeze to death?" Grigori asked, making a face. Brutus sighed and pinched their nose.

"We shall heat the water," Brutus replied. Grigori nodded and followed them, still concerned. They got into a little room, with a huge cot in the corner, a fireplace and a strange looking bucket in the middle of it. "Get out of those filthy clothes," Brutus said, pushing Grigori behind a strange, stretched piece of fabric. He set Ovar down and peeled off layer after layer of dusty clothes, standing only in his briefs.

Grigori felt strangely exposed. His definition of getting clean was having a bucket of cool water dumped on his head and then standing in front of the forges to dry off before he got too cold.

He peeked around the screen, one arm across his chest, the other covering his privates cautiously. Brutus and another were dumping buckets of water into the big bucket, which he guessed was where he'd 'bathe'. He flushed.

He had never been fully naked in front of others before.

"Are you undressed?" Brutus called.

"Yes?" Grigori replied. Brutus turned and gave a quick peek.

"Briefs too."

"But-"

"I'll turn around for twelve seconds," Brutus said. "I want you fully undressed and in the tub before I turn around."

"Is the tub the big bucket?"

"Yes," Brutus said as they turned around. Grigori yanked off his briefs and scrambled over to the tub, plunking himself down in it with a splash. His eyes widened and he sighed in delight. It was so warm and the water smelled nice. Brutus turned around and saw water all over the floor. Grigori blinked.

"Sorry?" he offered. Brutus sighed and chuckled.

"Constance," they called. The other person came back with a tray full of strange bottles and bricks and tiny towels. "Now, Lavender or Lemon or Glowmoss?"

"Glowmoss," Grigori said, unsure of what they were asking. Brutus grabbed a bottle and poured it into his hair, running their fingers through it gently. Grigori squeaked, but soon relaxed as the scent of glowmoss, musky and spicy, filled his nostrils. Brutus' hands were gentle and they rinsed the suds and dirt out of his hair.

"Is this really your first bath?" they asked, handing Grigori a bar of soap and helping them stand in the slippery tub.

"Yes," Grigori said, sniffing the soap.

"Don't lick it. Rub it on your hands then rub your hands everywhere."

"Alright," Grigori said, doing as he was told.

"Sit back in the water."

Grigori sat back down and watched as the bubbles moved off of him.

"How often do I have to bathe?"

"Every week."

"You're kidding."

“Nope.”

🜂🜂

Jaclyn looked at Elianore and she crossed her arms. How she hated asking for help. It made her seethe and grit her teeth.

"Why are you here, Elianore?" Jaclyn asked.

"Once a member of the Delphinae, always a member. I come to ask for your assistance," Elianore said, spitting the last word out like it was poison. Jaclyn raised an eyebrow and looked at her. "The baby dragon, he has bonded, with a boy."

"You need to be more specific darling, I know lots of boys," Jaclyn replied, hands on her hips. Elianore glared at her. That cocky bitch.

"I think he's Kotaro's son."

"Impossible. He died. My algorths tore him and his treacherous wife apart twenty years ago," Jaclyn replied. "And they would not have failed."

"Depends on what you ordered them to do."

"I ordered them to kill Kotaro and Thoko and Thoko wasn't pregnant when she left," Jaclyn replied.

"There's only one way to be sure. I would like to capture him with aide from your summons. You keep the boy, I keep the dragon."

"A mutually beneficial alliance." Jaclyn raised an eyebrow.

Elianore nodded, forcing herself to smile. She hated Jaclyn but pairing the most powerful Elemental Mage and the world's premiere Sorceress was too good of an opportunity to waste. Between them, they had more than half of the continent conquered. Jaclyn smiled and Elianore offered her hand; Jaclyn shook it.

"Partners then," she said.

"Yes, which demons would you like to use?"

"I heard recently you conquered Anshe."

"You heard correctly," Jaclyn replied, pulling a pearl around out of her pocket. "The terror of the oceans, in my palm."

"The way to the nesting grounds is over the sea," Elianore said, beginning to pace. Jaclyn nodded.

"I can do that," Jaclyn said, grinning. "Although, once I break the pearl, I will not be able to capture her again."

"That doesn't matter, you'll have the boy," Elianore said. Jaclyn nodded slowly.

"If he is the child of Kotaro and Thoko, I have to end him. Can you imagine how much he could screw up everything?"

"The birthright of Thoko and Kotaro's stubbornness in one body? It would be a nightmare,” Elianore said, inhaling. “But perhaps he doesn't need to be killed, Jaclyn," Elianore continued. Time to put her second part of the plan into action. "He can be broken and rebuilt. Then it wouldn't be even a contest of conquering the whole world."

"You're right," Jaclyn said, nodding. "He could be used as a battery at worst and a dragon killer at best," she said, grinning. Elianore nodded. "Shall we merge our armies as well for the final assault of Aria?"

"Yes, we shall in the morning," Elianore said. "For now, my men and I are itching to raid something."

"Village, two leagues north," Jaclyn said. "Make sure the food is communal property, the rest is yours and your men."

"So mine."

"How did I know you'd say that?" Jaclyn sighed.

"Because you know me," Elianore replied. "It's good to see you, Jaclyn. This will be profitable for both of us."

🜂🜂

Grigori rubbed his hand against the new tunic again. It was so soft, nothing like the stiff wool the dwarves used. Ovar rumbled as he settled on Grigori's shoulder. Grigori looked around the library where Brutus had dumped him, saying that they had more important things to do.

"So, what should we read Ovar?" he asked.

"Don't ask me, I can't read."

"You can't read."

"I am two days old, Grigori," Ovar replied.

"Well, what kind of stuff do you want to hear?" Grigori asked, looking at all the books. They looked so stiff and beautiful. His fingers brushed along the spine of one. "The Unicorn."

"Sure," Ovar replied, shuffling and settling on Grigori's shoulder. Grigori pulled the book out of the shelf and blew the dust off of the book. He walked to one of the armchairs and began to read it out loud.

"Once, long ago, in the dying hours of the Age of Beasts, when Humans began to walk the face of Excelsian, there were the unicorns. They were wise and gracious, the children of the moons.

But they were being hunted," Grigori paused as Ovar inhaled sharply. "By a witch, who was gathering their blood for dark purposes. After many years of the Hunt, only one Unicorn was left, on the great continent to the east. She was tired of running and instead chose to hide in a little village, where she had made a friend of a young woman by the name of Anele.

Anele was a warrior, the protector of the unicorn. For many years, the two of them lived quietly. But someone was jealous of their closeness and the long life it brought Anele. So, for a large sum of money, he told the witch where the friends were staying.

Anele caught wind of the plot against them and fled towards the mountains of Vala with the unicorn, the witch following them.

Eventually, exhausted and battered by the demons the witch sent after them, they faced the witch. The battle shook the heavens and lasted three days but Anele and the unicorn persevered. The witch lay dying at Anele's feet and with her last breath, cursed the unicorn and Anele, binding the unicorn to Anele's bloodline, so that when Anele died, so would the last unicorn, assuming that Anele would never lower herself to marriage.

The witch was wrong. Anele found a lover and soon gave birth to a daughter and as she did, a new unicorn was born from the white lilies and when Anele died alongside the unicorn, she passed her birthright to her daughter, and when her daughter died with her unicorn, the birthright passed to her son and it shall so progress until the end of days."

Grigori closed the book. Why did that story seem so familiar to him? He stared quietly at the cover, trying to remember where he had heard it. His brow furrowed as he traced the symbol on the cover. Where had he seen that?

"The medallion Fala gave you," Ovar said. Grigori looked at him. Ovar gestured at the symbol with his nose. Grigori felt around in his belt pouches until he found it, squinting. Ovar was right.

"Huh," Grigori mumbled, jumping as the door to the library opened. He tucked the medallion away as the female soldier, he was pretty sure her name was Sacha, from the day before stormed in, grabbing a book and slamming it on a table. "Are you alright?" he asked softly. She turned around, her ears becoming pink.

"The tracker for the escort has gone missing," she explained, rage creeping into her voice. "Without him, we don't have anyone who knows the safest way to Nevern."

"Nevern?"

"It's a port city. We'll have a boat waiting for us there," she explained. "We'll get you, the little dragon and I on board and we'll be sailing for the nesting island. Once we get on the boat, we should be safe. Elianore and Jaclyn may control the continent, but the Royal Navy still controls the sea."

Grigori nodded, cocking his head.

"So, you are plotting our route?" he asked.

"Yes," Sacha replied, running her fingers through her black bangs. "It'll take us about four weeks to get there without horses."

"Why can't we have horses?"

"You don't know how to ride and you'll be newly Awakened. You won't be able to stay in the saddle. Also, horses need food, so more packing."

"Ah," Grigori said, nodding stiffly. It made sense, but it still stung that she thought he wouldn’t be able to stay in the saddle. “I have to go to… Do the thing.”

Grigori sat down on the bench, facing Syralth, Ovar perched on his lap and sniffing Syralth's hands, which were covered in faint crisscrossed scars. Syralth's gold eyes had slight bags under them and his blue hair was unkempt, standing up in all directions.

"Are you alright?" Grigori asked. "We can do this another time if you want." Syralth shook his head.

"I do not enjoy being awake at night, but it has to be done now, in the light of the moon," Syralth replied.

"Why?"

"I'll explain in the morning," Syralth replied. Grigori nodded, his breath shortening. Shouldn't there be a medic on hand? "Give me your hands, Grigori. I'll try to make this as painless as possible."

"Thank you," Grigori said, holding out his hands, wishing that they would stop shaking. Syralth took them in his own, they were rough, but not as rough as the hands of dwarves.

"Close your eyes and focus on your breath."

Grigori did as he was told, his chest rising and falling as he began slowing down the inhale and the exhale. In and out, up and down. His hands began to tingle.

"By Lila's Grace, Tyrius' Wit and Zilla's Brash, this soul has come to me, your humble servant to Awaken the primal forces that lie within," Syralth said, his voice growing low and guttural. "The forces that connect us are wild but bind us to the world. To the elements, to each other, to time and to those beyond our reach. I open the gates to this world."

Pain began to seep up Grigori's hand, colder than the water in the underground streams, it felt like his blood was freezing in his veins. Tears began streaming down his face, his whole body telling him to pull away, that his hands were dead.

"Grigori," Ovar called out. "Don't you dare leave me alone."

"I, it, it hurts," Grigori whispered, lips trembling, spine stiff, every muscle and fibre burning and screaming at him. He was going to die, he could feel his heart changing, slowing.

Slowly, the pain changed, warmth creeping through his body, smoother than tea mixed with honey. It stalled the progression of the cold throughout his body, spreading from deep in his stomach.

And then, trickling away just as it had crept up his arms, the cold vanished. Grigori slumped forward, Syralth catching him. He took a shaky breath.

"Grigori?" Ovar asked.

"I, I'm alive," Grigori whispered, trying to sit up. Ovar licked his chin. Syralth helped him stand up, Grigori's arm over his broad shoulders.

"Let us retire," Syralth said. "On the morrow, we will meet and I'll begin teaching you the basics of healing and air magic."

"Alright," Grigori mumbled as Syralth half supported, half carried him to his room, setting him on the fluffy bed. "Thank you."

"Sleep, you shall need it."

"Mmhm," Grigori flopped back on the bed. His whole body ached, even his teeth. He looked at Ovar as the little dragon scrambled up onto the bed.

"You dropped me."

"Oops. I'm sorry," Grigori said. Ovar huffed and clambered up onto the other pillow, curling up into a ball.

"You're still hurting," he said. Grigori nodded. "You almost died."

"I know," Grigori said, feeling a sudden surge of relief course through him and he stared at the embroidered canopy. Tears began to trickle down his cheek, uninvited but there all the same. Ovar crept over to beside his face and licked it gently.

"Oh Lila, I almost died Ovar. What would have happened to you," he whispered.

"I would have gone back to your Doma and told them that you were brave."

"You think I'm brave?"

"Of course I do," Ovar said. "You dropped everything to bring me home and you blew up

Elianore. You're either brave or really stupid."

"Thanks, Ovar."

"You're welcome,” Ovar said, curling up.

[chalabrun]

contra mundum, ch. 2

Word count: 3,731 Pairings: Ignoct, Nyxnoct, Ignyxnoct Rating: PG Warnings: N/A Summary: An exploratory story into what Final Fantasy Versus XIII may have been like, this story follows Noctis and his friends on his journey to not wed Luna, but to bring the war to Niflheim's door. Driven to be far darker than the source material, this tale seeks to give a dark, twisted tale based on reality.

The beginning is set in motion. Before everything fell apart, they were once close together.

( READ ON AO3 )

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.

In caverns weathered by time, in a place forgotten by all but one, is a boy.

The boy was completely and utterly alone.

The room he is in is as high as a cathedral with a great dome in its center with mosaics of chipped heroes, valiant, charge into an endless race around the mosaic ring in pursuit of a demon, lost to the ravages of time and sits dejectedly among piles of rubble. The walls once held beautiful crystal sconces of unimaginable color are now dark with encroaching mold, their light stolen from them in ages past, like a speechless man. A rift in the ceiling is held steady by creeping roots with massive proportions, streams of light filtering through.

There is a massive wall of rounded stone, slate, and its base is an abyss that was once a contained well but the embankments of stone were lost lone ago and sits at the bottom of the shimmering, almost florescent abyss. The gluttonous roots have grown sporadic down the wall, creating a foothold on which the boy desperately clings to, like a feline to a tree.

Particles of dust dance the beams of light that manage to seep through, around fluted columns that bloom like lilies into the stone ceiling, in the wide center, and in the path of the hero of valor. The gnarly roots placidly hold the boy as he assiduously works, hair matted by sweat and brows creased in determination. He is perhaps in his eighth year, nearing the end of his boyhood, not yet ready to embrace the future.

His hands clench a stone with the fervor of one driven mad, soft skin torn and bleeding, but he is unaware. His long hair gleams like strands of metallic thread, halo moving in time with his rocking movements. His eyes like blood dart back and forth, studying this and righting that. Why is he working with such desperation?

This symbol is the key to your survival; remember it so that when the time comes, you will know. It shall protect you and lead you to greatness, an omniscient voice murmurs in that dream, that dream like a prophecy. The voice of a goddess, like a mother.

In that dream, he saw so many disconcerting things; ruined buildings corrugated by steal, shards of glass littering the streets. A horizon of complete and utter ruination plagues this familiar place, a restive moon donning a nauseating, bloody glow sickens the survivors of the mass destruction. The contemporary city would be lost to tragedy if it would not be stopped. But there is more to the dream; faces he's never seen, places he's never been, and a person familiar to him gazing at him with such reluctant antagonism.

There is a woman as well, who is very precious to him, whom he knows now and she is poised to fight, sad reluctance holding her back. And yet that brandished gold rapier goads his Engine Blade to action and they stand off.

No matter what, this cannot be avoided.

The boy weeps. It has yet to pass and already he is overwhelmed by emotion. He thinks of his friends, people so dear to him, and of that blonde girl, so precious to him. Must they be lost to an inevitable future?

He shakes away those thoughts and continues working, his carving and scraping making a dissonance in the abysmal place. This place is one filled with memories, of happiness and anguish, and yet he can see them as vividly as if it were happening now.

People strangely garbed flow in and out of the walls, luminous specters of the past. A time reel continuously flows and the boy is overwhelmed.

This is but a taste of what you will come to possess, the voice soothes, trying to quell his fears with company. You will find the strength to resolve the future. Why doesn’t he believe her?

Throwing down the worn, white stone, skittering into a dark place, the boy jumps from his perch. He furiously wipes his eyes, set with resolve, and gazes upon the symbol he has drawn.

A gyro of a language unknown to him swirls around a faded, curled wing. Many other symbols can be seen, but even the boy is unsur. In the pale light it takes on a celestial, fluorescent blue glow, but natural light shouldn't be able to do that. He gulps, unsure of what he has just scrawled upon the ancient wall.

Did I not tell you what it was?

The boy shakes his head, trembling. Dropping the stone, courage plummeting, the boy dashes from this grand room, down a narrow hall, charging deeper into the darkness more welcoming than an ominous future.

*

Hours later, Luna Parvulus, the Dukedom of Caliga, Galahd

"Prince Noctis! Oh bless my heart, I worried terribly about you! Where have you been? Come, come, let's get you all cleaned up."

Noctis, the boy, was trembling despite the warmth of the upper world. He had desperately bandaged his hands with old cloth in order to hide the wounds, but his keen-eyed guardian, Rosarum, had immediately caught on. She knew this boy from birth and she knew him well. At her side, his oldest and dearest friend, Ignis, waited with a pensive and worried look in his green eyes.

She was dressed in what looked to be a nun's habit, white and tan, although it was by no means for religious purposes. Her face was kindred with age, but her emerald eyes always had an intelligent gleam. She was fiercely protective of Noctis, who had become something of a son to her, and as thus she saw to it that he never stepped out of line. Rosarum glanced down at Ignis, placing a hand on the older boy’s shoulder. “And you worried dear Ignis, my dear.”

Noctis took Ignis’ hand, small fingers curled around like a lost child. He kept his gaze to the floor, eyes darting between the shoes that flicked out from under her long dress whenever she took a step and his own stumbling feet. “…Sorry for disappearing like that, Iggy.”

“It’s okay. As long as you’re safe, Noct.” He sounded so gentle.

The halls they walked through were high and narrow, rich white marble paving the floor and columns that blossomed into high domes were avoided. Between the recesses the columns made were large portraits of the rulers of old, people Noctis was related to, as well as entryways into similar halls, each containing a plethora of rooms. Clear windows overhead let in an azure sky while massive crystal chandeliers spiraled downwards like Turritella shells. Natural light made them sparkle every conceivable color of the spectrum, casting orbs of color on the floor and walls like playful faeries.

Caliga always had been a beautiful place. The seat of House Izunia, the precursor to the Lucis Caelums, its capital of Luna Parvulus was like something out of a fairytale and built exactly in style of Tenebrae, especially its own Fenestala Manor. A place founded a sort of wedding present to the first Oracle, Gentiana Fleuret, from Somnus Lucis Caelum, it had been the ancestral place of peaceful conventions between House Caelum and House Fleuret for generations.

At least, that’s what his grandmother, Aellai Izunia, had told him years ago before she’d passed away. Grandpa Mors had never really cared for history, she’d joked, but Noctis knew she missed him greatly.

“Hey, Noct?”

“Yeah, Iggy?” Noctis replied when the trio took pause, both training gazes on the older boy.

“Um…I’ll wait until you’re done, okay? I think Rosie wanted me to lay out some clothes for you, while you bathe and stuff.”

Noctis smiled at his friend and reached out to poke Ignis’ cheek. “Okay, Iggy! I’ll get done really fast, then!” He couldn’t help it; they were inseparable, after all.

“Oh, we hope you get done in time, little prince! I know how much you enjoy the bubbles!” Ignis gave a small laugh and Noctis made a face, embarrassed, but feeling happy.

Shoes echoing resoundingly, Rosarum briskly walked into a set of open, lacquered wood doors inlaid with curling iron designs with Noctis and Ignis in tow. Opening a secondary set the three of them entered the young prince's bedroom.

The room was circular in shape, domed like many others, hewn from warm beige marble. A cathedral ring of columns arched gracefully to touch the sky. There were recesses between each wall bound column that held in their depressions statues of the Archaean deep in thought and Shiva clothed in flowing robes in delicate pose, something out of the Genesis painting. The four poster canopy bed stood at the center, black curtains bound to their posts. The extravagant silk sheets were of muted cream and spared no expense of the young prince's comfort.

Ignis detached from them and began digging through the dresser and wardrobe for the prince’s clothing, leaving Rosarum and Noctis to the task of bathing.

Rosarum skirted around a large desk and wardrobe and flung open another set of elegant doors into a bathroom as large as the bedroom.

It, too, was circular in shape. A rounded, inlaid bath more like a fountain pool lay in the center, steaming and embanked by warm stone. A light fixture hanged from the zenith of the dome, metal and orbs of light twisting beautifully together and casting a warm glow on cordial marble. A ring of stained glass above was in the forms of inky fishes and rippling water of frosty blue glass, the sunlight casting scales of blue light below.

The marble in here was of a dull burgundy veined by white that seemed to grow warmer in light. A large mirror sat in one corner while a large sink, too large for normal use, sat in another. All was made from stone or marble, a trait overly common in what was supposed to be a modern utopia.

"Alright, m' prince, why don't you take off these ruddy clothes and get yourself bathed? I'll take them to the laundry quarters. If you don't take a bath, I'll know," she said, kneeling down to look Noctis at eye level. “Don’t keep Iggy waiting too long, hm?”

Complying, Noctis walked over to a hidden changing room and closed the door before removing all of the soiled clothes. He pulled on a long bathrobe and girdled it tight, then stepped out with the bundle of soiled garments in his arms. Rosarum gladly took them, smiling warmly at Noctis.

"I'll be back in a jiffy, alright?" she said before turning around, robes swishing as she closed the door softly behind her.

Glaring at the water, Noctis timidly stepped to its edge, frowning and testing the heat with his toe. Recoiling at the spike in temperature, Noctis frowned and his glare deepened.

"Why do I have to take a bath?" Noctis groused softly, swirling the glass-smooth water with his finger. Remembering the taunts of his immaturity from a close friend, Noctis puffed his chest exaggeratingly. He sat and submerged his legs up to his calves; he gritted his teeth in resolve. Slipping off the edge into the fairly deep water, Noctis splashed resoundingly, flailing his arms until they rested on a submerged ledge. Gasping for breath, hair limp and blocking his eyes (which he quickly moved aside), he took deep breaths, trying to calm his fluttering heart.

Finally calm, Noctis removed the heavy and wet robe, having accidently dragged it in with him. The water cleansed his skin well enough as well as his hair, though he still went through the whole routine. Clean of all dirt, blood, and grime, Noctis heaved himself from the tub and toweled himself as dry as possible, hair still a little damp. He found another robe to wrap around himself and proceeded to the mirror.

Availing himself before it, he could see that his hair was still hopelessly spiky, springing back into place. It was a strange metallic blue, unusual from the browns and blondes of other people. His face wasn't sharp and angular like his friend, or more…developed like Ignis’; instead it was soft and still rounded, but was beginning to lose that trait.

"Oh, good, you're done, m' prince!" came Rosarum's jovial and warm voice. Noctis whirled around, a smile alighting his face. He ran to her and clamped on to her arm, face colliding with her shoulder.

"You've become very handsome; I can't believe you're not that sweet little baby anymore. Ah, you're such a treasure." Noctis looked up to his beloved nanny. “I’m certain little Ignis agrees, hm?”

"Please call me Noct, like you used to," Noct said, smiling warmly. “Like Iggy does!”

She burst into laughter. "Oh, you little rascal! I'll get in trouble if I do."

Noct looked thoughtful for a moment. "Prince Noct?" he reasoned. “Iggy does that sometimes, too!”

"Alright, I'll call you 'Prince Noct.'" Noctis let go of her arm, beaming.

"Oh! I almost forgot! Lord Ravus and Lady Stella are here. Aren't you excited? Come; let's get you all polished up."

Noct froze; Stella was here. His heart began thumping loudly at the thought of seeing his best friend who he recently began having a crush on. She was twelve to his eight and positively radiant. He adored her kind smile and lively personality. There was something else, like they had a deeper connection, but he couldn't reason why. Though he’d always been so close with Ignis, Stella was different. And he was going to see her, again!

Urging himself to calm down, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

Older Stella brandishing a gold rapier.

Noct shook his head, pushing away that awful thought.

"Prince Noct? Time to get dressed."

Noctis opened his eyes, and to his abject horror, Rosarum held a flowing, long emerald dress coat, stiff looking matching pants and a complicatedly designed shirt. He swallowed; he hated dressing formally almost as much as he hated taking bathes.

Ignis looked a little sheepish, having been the one to choose them in the first place. “Sorry, Noct, but your father wanted you to wear them.”

It was always his dad! Always so stuffy, even though he wore suits all the time! Why didn’t he have to wear the ceremonial robes?

Reluctantly taking the clothes into the changing area, closing the door, he removed the bathrobe and put on the appropriate undergarments before hauling up the suede pants, pulling over the long shirt and finally pulling on the ankle-length robe which wasn't supposed to be girdled. He tied on a pair of starchy black boots and laced them, toes being mashed together.

Exiting the room he groaned loudly, bemoaning the restrictive clothing.

Rosarum clapped her hands in delight and ushered Noct again to the mirror. The outfit made him look older, sure, but he wouldn't be able to do much. Ignis stood beside him and helped tug down this, tighten that, and brush away stray wisps of hair.

"You look even more handsome!" she squealed, soothing creases and invisible wrinkles with obsessive care.

Noct gave her a look of comic anguish, a shadow of despair hooding his eyes. Ignis looked paologetic, sincerely. Then again, he’d always had a superbly soft spot for his friend.

"You want to look nice for Stella, don't you?"

Noctis quickly changed his outlook, imagining Stella gushing over how cool he looks and immediately changed his outlook on the snazzy clothes. Well, almost immediately.

Rosarum laughed at his sudden change of heart, always seeming to know how to change Noctis's perspective on things. That, or the task fell on ignis. Barely keeping secrets from each other, Ignis almost always anticipated what was needed for Noctis. He was so, so reliable like that.

"Come along now; don't want to keep them waiting."

Noctis gladly acquiesced and flew from the room, Rosarum struggling to keep up.

“Oh, Noct?”

Noctis stopped dead in his tracks, skidding to a halt when his friend addressed him. He was always bound to listen where Ignis was involved. “Yeah, Iggy?”

“Uncle Jovian wanted to see me today. I’m sorry, but I can’t come with you to see Lord Ravus or Lady Stella.”

Ignis looked apologetic again, especially when he caught sight of the disappointment on his face.

“Oh, okay. I’ll tell them you said hi. It’s okay. Luna couldn’t come, either.”

Ignis looked grateful, if a little crestfallen. “Lady Lunafreya has her Oracle training to attend to. I’m pretty sure she’d love to be here with us, Noct.”

Rosarum smiled gently at the pair. “Don’t you either worry about anythin’. I’m certain today will lovely for all of you, regardless.”

“You’re right. Thank you, Rosie. And see you later, Iggy!”

*

The day was as beautiful as it looked through the windows.

The sky was a beautiful turquoise color, clouds floating aimlessly like leaves swept along a river. A massive lawn spanned before him, gardens of flowers of every variety planted and hedges trimmed with the utmost precision. Beyond the gardens was the border between lawn and forest, both kept immaculately in line. Cobblestone paths cut through the maze of flowers and small trees; the odd sculpture of some prominent figure of old standing in defiance to the sky.

The emerald leaves of the interminable number of trees chattered in the many warm breezes while dappled shadows rested on the forest floor below. The grand presence of the castle loomed before all, a sentinel of sentinels watching over wood and city. Luckily the sun's position in the heavens provided that the castle's shadow didn't overshadow the delightful gardens or the three young children who wished the gambol among the scenery.

Beyond even that, the Sea of Galahd scintillated on the horizon, reminding them they were still a ways from the Crown City of Insomnia.

Noctis descended the wide stone stairs, ignoring Rosarum's warnings to be safe. He practically ran down, eager to meet his friends below.

As soon as his foot touched green turf, the padding of feet over grass flew in his direction.

"NNNNoooooctiiiisssss!" came the stream of his name, sourcing from a pretty preteen girl, a mane of billowing gold in her wake as she ran. Launching herself to the young prince, Stella latched her arms around his neck, smiling childishly.

Noct, unable to speak coherently, gulped. He returned the embrace shyly.

"Oh, hey Stella,” he stuttered at last, patting Stella's back. Beaming, the older girl, already a bit taller, quickly released Noct so that he could regain his composure.

"I'm so glad to see you again, Prince Noctis! " she said, smiling genuinely. Her violet eyes caught the sunlight beautifully, entrancing the young prince for a moment. Today she wore an almost identical outfit to his, only it bore the colors of her kingdom, Tenebrae, and instead of pants she wore a skirt. “Luna says hello. She was sad she couldn’t be here, but she wishes you well.”

Aside from the fact that she was Luna’s fraternal twin sister, they looked almost exactly alike, save for her ash blonde hair and violet eyes that contrasted to Luna’s blonde hair and blue eyes.

Raucous laughter broke the silence, emanating from a a platinum blond youth. Ravus Nox Fleuret was prince from the kingdom of Tenebrae and Noctis's other best friend, and the girls’ older brother. His choppy, short hair was buzzed down, stormy grey eyes dancing in delight. He wore an outfit identical to Noctis's, again with the colors of his beloved forest kingdom.

He was the oldest of them at sixteen. Already his face was beginning to sharpen and become angular, voice not yet deep. He was a head taller than Noct and towered over Stella.

Yet that never deterred Stella from showing off her vivacious spirit.

"Ravus!" Stella cried, stamping her feet and crossing her arms. "Leave Noct alone!"

Noct waved his hands, as if trying to placate the fiery girl, only she proceeded to stomp over to Ravus and give him a piece of her mind.

"Sorry Stella, it's just that Noct—" he choked out between bouts of laughter "—he's really hilarious to me now for some reason!"

Stella scowled, hand reaching to grab a tuft of hair and yank it. Ravus yelped loudly, eyes locked with Stella's fierce ones.

"I'm sick of you bullying and teasing Noct! Go say you're sorry," she ordered, still clenching his short hair.

Awkwardly bent over, Ravus's grey eyes locked with Noctis's. "Stella, it's what friends do. We always—"A yank "—Okay! I'm sorry, Noct! You happy now?" his last words directed at Stella. She tossed him away, unsteadying Ravus, and smiled smugly.

Prancing over to Noct, she grabbed his hand. "Let's get away from him and this place," she whispered conspiratorially, glancing towards the forest.

"What are you doing?" Ravus.

"Now!"

Before Noctis could even blink, Stella was off him a shot, towing Noctis at breakneck speeds. They tore through the gardens and out to the border and into the darkening woods. Noctis could hear Ravus shouting after them to stop, but for once he was glad to be alone with Stella.

They ran quite a way until the castle receded and faded completely from view.

"Ah, alone at last." Stella ambled around a tree with great roots, humming delightfully to herself.

Noctis looked around nervously. The trees here were thick enough for several people to hug, hands touching. Long and wide branches thickened and split like a river delta, umbrage nearly blocking out the sun entirely. The canopy was thick with a ceiling of leaves that let in only fragments of sunlight, the rest of the ground cloaked in shadow. Massive roots spurt from the ground, interrupting the surface like coiling snakes, providing for unsteady walking ground. Noctis carefully picked his way around brambles and jutting roots, making way to Stella.

A deafening crunch suddenly filled the forest.

Stella clung to Noctis who put a hand to her back.

"I think we should leave, Stella." Her head pumped up and down in agreement.

A scuffling of weak roots heaved inwards, creating an abyssal drop. Noctis' arms flew around Stella and her's around him.

Both screamed with terrific might in the quiet forest as the ground gave away and they were swallowed by the black maw.

[tsaomengde]

What Is Owed (3)

(Part 1) (Part 2)

           After a night on the stone floor of the guest quarters given her by the King, Alia is awakened by the appearance of a serving woman. The woman takes one look at her and says, “Is there an issue with the bed of which I need be made aware, milady?”

           With a low growl, Alia sits up.  Her head hurts, her mouth is dry, and everything is too bright and too loud.  This is not atypical of her mornings, but she is still in no mood for visitors.  “No.”

           “Milady, then why –”

           Alia climbs stiffly to her feet, turns, and sits down on the edge of the bed.

           There are low, ominous creaking noises, followed by sounds of splintering.  She keeps eye contact with the serving woman, watching the horror and understanding blossom on her face, wondering if she will demand Alia stand up before the frame cracks completely through or if decorum will win out and keep her silent.

           “Milady, please!  I do beg your pardon.  Spare the bed my foolishness.  I was told you were consecrated of Yeda, but I thought not what it might bode.”

           Alia pushes off the balls of her feet, impressed. The bed holds, and assuming its next inhabitant weighs less than she does, she doubts there will be an issue. “So, my good maid.  Are you here to insist I bathe and change my clothes once more, or simply to ensure that I am awake for our departure?”

           Her intruder actually cracks a small smile.  “I heard tell of your grand entrance yesternight, milady.  May I remark that none amongst us are over-fond of Nadia.”

           Alia puts on a shocked look.  “It surpasses me to envisage why.”

           “To make an answer to your question, milady, the good ship Astes does depart in two hours. It was thought you might desire to make acquaintance with His Highness Prince Andral aforetime.”

           Considering the proposition of sleeping for another hour, Alia is sorely tempted to just tell this woman to go away.  But she decides that if she is going to be stuck on a skyship for two weeks with this boy and his retinue, she should make the attempt to ensure the voyage is not too unpleasant.  That probably involves talking to him at least once.

           This, she decides, can be the once, if once it indeed is.

           “I must refresh and make myself ready,” she says. “You may wait for me outside. Then I will go with you to the Prince.”

           That interaction temporarily concluded, Alia goes and carefully uses the indoor toilet.  It is not a thing she is used to, but the maid has done somewhat to soften Alia’s feelings toward the Palace staff after her encounter with Nadia, and consequently she feels little desire to make their lives difficult.  Across from the indoor toilet there is a basin, and some device of smooth, curved marble which brings forth cold, clear water into it.  A recent invention, she knows; the last time she was in this Palace, some twenty years ago, none of the guest quarters had anything like it.  She does not know what they are called or how they work.

           Alia splashes some of the water onto her face, and drinks some until she feels refreshed.  The water is somewhat brackish, but it is serviceable.

           Feeling slightly more human, she allows the serving woman to lead her up through winding staircases and steeply sloped halls to the Palace aerodrome.  It is an ambitious space that also did not exist twenty years ago; Stryga has added much to the Palace since his coronation, it seems.  The top of the tower has essentially been sliced off, and a steel floor the size of a city block has been laid flat atop it.  Tall, arched pillars of black stone rise out of the floor high into the air, supporting a glass dome lined with airsteel struts.  The structure is truly massive, capable of engulfing even the largest skyships.

           Alia knows this construction is not just for its own sake; though she is mostly uninformed about the mechanics of skyship flight, she does know the conventional wisdom that it is easier to climb than descend. Most aerodromes are constructed as high up as possible, and this one is no exception.

           The aerodrome could accommodate several vessels the size of Astes, which is the kingdom’s largest civilian skyship, but it is currently the only one docked.  Alia quietly wonders at the wisdom of not sending the Prince aboard a military craft, but then considers the prospect of Oallans breaking the surface of the waves to look up at a vast floating fortress bearing down on them.  Friendly hands behind the guns or no, Alia knows firsthand the experience of looking up into the sky and seeing the black mouth of a hellcannon gaping down back at her.

           The Astes is like a silvery dart, chopped in half along its horizontal length so it is flat-topped, and then magnified to several times the size of a red whale.  At a glance, Alia estimates it can hold seventy people, including the crew, and several tons of cargo.  More people could take the place of cargo in its hold, but she has been aboard enough skyships to know that they would not be comfortable. She notes the cunning concealment of its heat vents in the craft’s smooth lines, its broad windows, the lack of any visible armament.  Like most civilian skyships, it has no top deck, containing the crew and passengers entirely within its hull.

           Ramps extend from the ship’s belly, its bow, and its stern.  Men in grey and brown uniforms are loading cargo through the belly ramp, while occasional knots of colorfully-clad civilian passengers – noblepersons, merchants, and artisans, Alia guesses – embark through the stern ramp.  The bow ramp seems reserved for the ship’s crew, and is unused, at least for the moment.

           Prince Andral and his retainers are standing at the base of the bow ramp, apparently having a discussion with the Astes’s captain, an older woman in sharp blue trousers and doublet.  Andral is only slightly taller than Alia, sharp-featured, imperially slim.  His skin is a shade lighter than his father’s, though still rich and coppery; his charcoal hair is long, braided, and gathered in a knot at the base of his skull to hang between his shoulder blades.  He wears a smart beard, neatly trimmed.  Instead of the traditional doublet and trousers, he favors a long, white overcoat, a green waistcoat and breeches, black hose, and thick-soled, practical boots.

           The serving woman bids Alia goodbye and scurries off. Alia watches her go, wondering at the seeming suddenness of her departure, then shrugs it off and heads for the Prince.

           As she draws closer, Alia can hear what he is saying to the captain.  His voice is controlled and precise.  “I desire no special regard aboard ship, Captain.  I require only that we come to Oalla as soon as may be.”

           The captain shifts her weight from one foot to another, clearly uncomfortable.  “Your Highness, by this do you mean we must make course for Oalla first, letting our other destinations fall by the wayside until such time as we have discharged our duty to you?”

           Andral crosses one arm over his belly, rests the elbow of the other atop the first, stroking his chin thoughtfully.  “How much time might be gained if you should do this thing?”

           “Perhaps five days, Your Highness.”

           “I sense reluctance.  Wherefore?”

           The captain looks down at her feet.  “Spoilage of certain goods we have taken aboard ship, Your Highness.  The rancor of certain travelers whose passage we secured with promises of swift deliverance to journey’s terminus.”

           “Gold may serve to assuage such rancor and soothe the sting of goods lost.”  Andral snaps his fingers, and one of his retinue, a middle-aged woman wearing the flowing robes of a scribe and numerologist, steps forward.  In one hand she holds a sheaf of paper, in the other a bloodquill.  “You may relate your potential losses to Ora, here.  My father will make recompense to you upon your return.”

           Alia sighs.  She was so hoping this might not be painful.

           Clearing her throat, she speaks up.  “Your Highness,” she says.  “I think that an ill turn.”

           Expression clouding, Andral whirls and scans her from head to toe in one glance.  “Who are you that should assume to dictate thus to me?”

           “Alia the Steelblooded,” she replies, not liking to use her full title but knowing she needs moral authority here and hoping that martial authority will do instead.  “His August Majesty King Stryga has charged me with your protection on this voyage.  To that end, I must caution you against this.  You risk the displeasure of the crew and your fellow passengers.  The captain cannot say these things to you, but I may.”

           Andral narrows his eyes, which for the first time Alia realizes are an unusually light shade of hazel.  “You presume much upon your relationship with my father, it seems.”

           “I hope not overmuch.”  Alia holds that bright gaze, not flinching.  She is as far from afraid of Andral as it is possible to be without being actively contemptuous.  He is, after all, just a boy, not even twenty years old yet.  She vaguely recalls people in the streets discussing the ceremony of his coming of age, some months ago, but that does not make a boy a man.

           With a slight sigh, Andral looks back at the captain. “Should I heed the words of Alia the Steelblooded, Captain?  Speak freely, with no fear of rebuke.”

           “Were I in your place, Your Highness,” the captain says, still looking at her feet, “I should be mindful of her most excellent advisement.”

           Andral looks back at Alia, holds her gaze a moment longer, then inclines his head.  “So shall it be, then.  I thank you for your wise counsel, Alia the Steelblooded.  Take sup with me this eve in my cabin.”

           Pursing her lips, Alia nods, deciding to ignore the peremptory tone.  He did thank her, after all, and she does not want to strain things any more.  “Until then, Your Highness.”

           He turns away with a sweep of his long coat and marches straight up the bow ramp, his attendants scurrying to keep up.

           “I must extend my sincerest gratitude, milady,” the captain murmurs quietly once Andral is aboard.

           Alia switches to the merchants’ jargon.  “Royalty are hippos.  Large mouths, large wakes, many attendant little birds.”

           That gets a chuckle out of the captain.  “And fierce tempers.  And no patience.  And a large number so dumb they shit where they eat.”

           “This one is a little smart.  He sees when he is being dumb, with help.”

           “Aye.  Gratitude again.  You are welcome on my boat.”  The captain gives her shoulder a squeeze Alia does not feel, and turns to go.

           Alia does not initially intend to stop her.  But she eyes the bow ramp, considering the prospect of dinner with Andral that evening.  “Captain,” she says, switching back to Fillorel.  “Before you away, there is a question I would ask.”

           “Yes, milady?”

           “In which part of your vessel do you keep the bar?”

[fangirlfanwritings]

Jon Snow Imagine

Hello~ Could you do a GoT imagine where Jon and the reader fell in love at Winterfell, but they returned to King's Landing and he went to the Wall. They're reunited at the Dragon Pit gathering, only reader now has their son? This is my first request, sorry if it doesn't make much sense!

AN: FYI: Reader’s hair is black in since she’s Robert’s daughter

Also, this turned out longer than I expected 

You walked the cold grounds of Winterfell, happy to be away from your family for the moment. You tightened your furs and threw up the hood on your cloak. You did a quick glance around before you snuck out to the Godswoods. Although you had only been at Winterfell for one day the long time on the road and having your family constantly near you was too much.

You looked at the beautiful white tree and it’s bright red leaves. You stepped closer to the face on the tree and went to touch the etched face but just as your hand got near the bark on the tree a voice made you turn. “Oh, ugh, forgive me My Lady.” You let out a gasp retracted your hand, turning to face the dark haired man. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I didn’t mean to frighten you either, Princess.”

You sighed from relief, “I’m alright, you just startled me. You are Ned Stark’s son, right?”

“His bastard,” he corrected you.

“My father has plenty of bastards and they are still his children,” you quipped. “What are you doing out here-”

“Jon. I came to get away from the craziness of the castle. And you?”

A smiled came to your face, “I came to get away from the craziness of my family. Please, join me.”

The two of you talked for hours until you heard a commanding voice tell others to search the area. “You have to hide,” you said urgently. “Please, if my family sees me with you, or anyone, they’ll make it their business. And I don’t want my Mother finding out...she has a way of soiling everything she touches.”

Jon hid behind a large tree a few feet back and you sat calmly in front of the pond and looked up at the tree.  “Princess,” you pretended to be startled at the men that appeared before you.

“Guards.”

“My Lady, the Queen has been looking everywhere for you. She requests your presence back at Winterfell at once.” You followed the guards back into Winterfell and were lead straight to your Mother’s chambers. Your Father sat against the walls and eyed you down as you walked in, looking you over.

“Leave us,” she said harshly to the men. When the door shut she jumped down your throat. “What were you thinking,” she hissed. “Do you know what barbarians live in the North? Do you know how much danger you put yourself in, going out there without any guards? You could have been kidnapped, raped, murdered. You’ll be lucky if I let you out of your chambers for the rest if our visit.”

“Calm down now woman,” your Father stood up and walked over to you. He placed his hands on your shoulders and looked you over again. “Are you ok?” You nodded. “You understand you can’t leave the castle walls again without guards?” You nodded again. “Good. You are my eldest child and if anything were to happen to you...I don’t know what I’d do.” His sensitive voice was replaced as he stood up straight and put his hands down. He opened the door and spoke to the guards. “She’ll be free to roam around the Winterfell walls without guards. I want men stations by the exit to make sure she doesn’t leave unprotected again. Understood?” They nodded and left to spread the word.

“Thank you, Father.”

He nodded, “Now go to your chambers and get ready for bed. I’ll have some food set to your room.”

You went to your chambers, bathed, and sat in front of the fire in your room in your nightgown as you ate the bread and hog your Father had sent up to your room. There was a soft knock on your door. “Come in,” you hollard. Jon Snow walked in with Ghost closely behind.

“Jon?” You stood up and quickly went for your robe. He averted his eyes until you wrapped the robe around yourself. “What are you doing here,” you rushed to the door and closed it.

“I wanted to see you again.”

“If my Mother finds out you were here she’ll have you beheaded or have you exiled!”

“I think you’re being a tad bit dramatic,” his eyes crinkled from a laugh.

“You don’t know my Mother.” So for the rest of your time at Winterfell you were sneaking around meeting with Jon at every chance you got, and with your Father drunk and with Ned all day and your Mother hardly leaving her chambers you two met often and grew very close very fast.

It was your last night in Winterfell and Jon had snuck up to your chambers again. You two sat in the chairs by the fire but this time you two were silent, looking into the fire.

“Y/N,” Jon broke the silence and you looked across at him.

“Jon?”

“I have to tell you something, because if I don’t do it now I never will.”

“And why is that?”

“Because when you leave tomorrow I am too. I’m going North with my Uncle to join the Night’s Watch.”

“Jon, no!”

“There’s nothing here for me, Y/N. After you leave I’ll go back to being nothing but a bastard.”

“That’s not true,” you sat towards him and pleaded. “Come to King’s Landing with your Father. We can still see each other and-”

“-And what, Y/N? You are the Princess, oldest daughter to the King. I am a bastard of the North. We have no future together, which is what pains me the most. I love you, and I don’t think I can go seeing you everyday knowing that you’ll never be mine.”

“Jon,” tears began to fall down your cheeks. “You love me?”

“I do.”

“Would you think I was crazy if I said I love you too and that I don’t think I can have a future with anyone else?”

“Yes,” he sadly chuckled and moved to wipe your tears. “You have more promised to you than I can even imagine. Go have to back to King’s Landing, marry some High Lord, and have lots of babies and forget all about me.”

“I’m afraid that can never happen,” you rested your forehead against his. “I will never forget you, Jon Snow.” You looked into his eyes and put your hand over his as it rested on your cheek. “Spend this last night with me, Jon.”

*7 years later*

You took a deep breath as you neared the Dragon Pit, you knew who you were about to see and you knew your heart wasn’t ready. Just as you thought when you walked into the pit and saw the darked haired man, now more rugged than before. You felt your heart flutter at the site of him and when your eyes locked you saw a look of bewilderment take over his face. You two kept the yearn for each other at bay as you took the seat by your Mother’s side.

The thing you saw charging towards you was enough to convince you right away that your Mother’s troops needed to go North. She exited the Dome dramatically and you stopped outside the dome, waiting for everyone to leave before you turned back around and went into the dome. Once your Mother had taken the throne all the golden cloaks flanked her side, only going to yours when she deemed fit.

You let out a smile as you saw Jon, the man you’d never thought you’d see again. You continued to smile more and more with every step towards him you took. “Hi,” you breathlessly said as you stopped right in front of him.

“Hi.” You two embraced each other right away and held each other close.

Someone cleared their throat and you looked over at your Uncle Tyrion, “Hi.”

“Hi Uncle,” you laughed happily and hugged him. “I missed you,” you looked back up to Jon. “I missed you too.”

“My near niece, not that we aren’t glad to see you, but why are you standing by your Mother’s side?”

“She holds my life within her reaches. I have no one I can trust to get myself and what I treasure most out of King’s Landing and believe me I was ready to leave the minute I knew you were alive and well Uncle. Then when I found out you were back in Winterfell...,” you looked at Jon.

“Is everyone well,” your Uncle knew of the treasure you spoke of and kept it to himself?

“Yes, for now. My Mother grows more irrational everyday. Please,” you looked over to Jon, “I need to go back with you. Do you think your Queen will allow it,” you looked across the dome to Daenerys.

“I will make sure of it,” Jon nodded.

“Get to the dragon skulls tonight with your things once the castle is sleeping. Jon and I will be there with some guards to get you onto our ship.”

“Do you promise me,” you nearly cried from relief.

Jon grabbed your hand in his, “I’m not leaving you again.” When your Uncle saw the look you two shared again he knew exactly where your treasure had come from.

******

“Just a little further,” you spoke softly as you carried a heavy load in your arms down the stairs to the dragon skulls. You crept down the final stairs and followed the faint glow coming from behind one of the larger skulls. “Jon,” you whispered.

“It’s us,” he peered from behind the skull and paused when he saw you. In your arms was a sleepy boy.

“You have no bags,” Tyrion pointed out.

“He is the only thing I need. Now let’s get out of here before they see we’ve gone.” Your Uncle lead the small group of you back out through the passageways and you didn’t feel the tension leave your shoulders until you were sailing away from King’s Landing, looking at the sleeping boy who was tucked into the bed on board.

You sat down on the bed by him and stroked his hair, relieved that he was away from your Mother and would be safe.

“What’s his name?” You didn’t turn as you heard Jon’s voice behind you and heard him close the door.

“Jon Robert Baratheon.”

“Baratheon?”

“It was Waters but I was able to convince my Father to recognize him as my own child. I knew how you felt about your last name and didn’t want him to feel that way. I wanted him to know he is loved.”

“Why is his name Jon, Y/N?”

“After his Father,” a tear began to drip down your cheek. Jon noticeable choked up as he approached you.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” you swore you saw tears forming in his eyes.

“You were at the Wall. I knew you couldn’t leave. And I knew I couldn’t get word to you safely. If my Mother were to find out she’d have the baby taken from me or would never see it as family. Nobody even knew I was pregnant other than my close family, Jon. When I started to show I spent my days in my chambers. My family was determined that this shameful family secret stay under lock and key.”

“I-I wish I would have known. I would have been there for you. We could have run away like we talked about,” he looked at the sleeping boy and saw his features clear for the first time. His hair was dark like yours but curly like his. He had your face shape but the features were 100% his own.

“If you left the wall you would have been hunted until they had your head rolling on the floor, and I couldn’t live with that.” You looked at your sleeping boy. “He’s bright, Jon. So bright. And he loves his sword. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were better than you one day,” you put a hand on Jon’s hand.

“I’d like to see that,” he smiled at the boy.

“You will. He’s asked me so many questions about you.”

“He’ll get to ask me them all tomorrow when he wakes. Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Marry me. I’ve thought of you every day that we’ve been apart. And, if this really is the end, I want to spend every day I have left with you and our son.”

“Of course I’ll marry you, Jon. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He stood up and held your hand, “Come stay the night with me in my chambers?”

“I have to be here when he wakes. He’ll be confused and scared if he wakes in this unfamiliar place without me.”

“I’ll have you back before he wakes,” he promised.

[thornstocutyouwith]

Switched

10:13 AM] Karma:

Seti had only stared down at BB As she made her final statements at him before saying “ I. Don’t. Care. I’ll kill you six more times, bitch.” It was cold, and serious the way he had spoke then. Sharp green eyes like knives cutting through her entire form, stare down at her “ You do not endanger my child with your games! Egyptian’s take that very seriously.  Of course you wouldn’t understand. And in no way would I ask you to. But Understand this, children are precious to us, because it is uncertain whether they will live longer than their parents. To have a vile bitch like you further risk a child’s life on a selfish whim, you are disgusting!” He watched still as she began to change, half tempted to drop down toward the kitten as it appeared and kick it into the neared flaming wall. But before he could decided to do that it had vanished into some mist “ Good, run away. I’ll see you again. And take your life, again.”  Seti muttered after the misty remains BB had left behind when she vanished. Lifting his head up for a moment he moved, turning toward the dome before bringing it to gently rest several feet away from Darius’ burning home. Floating back down to the ground beside the dome he let it break apart. Seeing Sean in the center he leaned over  his hands moving to access the damage the crows had managed to give his husband and child. Ignoring his own as he fretted over the other two “ Is he okay, how many got to him. Are you alright?”  Seti had asked.

[10:14 AM] Karma:

Nodding as Darius spoke, Asher wasn’t looking at the other, mostly because he had been laying on the bed with his eyes shut “ What…you can’t sing? Who would have thought…A Hatter that can’t sing. Why, I thought all Hatters could sing…Proved me wrong, …I guess.” He mumbled tiredly at Darius’ claim. “ Yes! A fish for Cheshire!”  Asher said in a sing song voice as he pointed toward Darius “ Fish for Asher!” He then smiled as Darius stood up and stretched “ Well aren’t you half naked.  A lot must of went on last night…I don’t remember anything but barfing and sleeping all day yesterday…” He nodded then “ Well why didn’t you sing!?  Jeez.  Yesterday’s me sounds like he just wanted you to help him feel better.” Laughing a bit then he turns and makes his way to the bathroom “ Well, I am sure my stomach thanks you for your brave sacrifice."He paused for a moment to look at the long object covered in a curtain by his dresser. Turning to Darius then he smiles ” I’m taking a bath, so unless you want to stick around for that. You may. Unless you didn’t…Then you can go get something to eat and we’ll…. Um, what was it…I was poisoned…So we’ll talk about punishing whoever poisoned me. Got that? Don’t go sneaking off, I need your support.“

[8:02 AM] Soup:

It was official, certainly, BB and Seti were now sworn enemies and there was no way for BB to manipulate Seti with pretty words and a promise to change the way she had manipulated Shay, Alexander, and to some extent even Sean. It wasn't the first time the Cheshire had turned on Wonderland's most key players – and it certainly wouldn't be the last. BB still had six lives left, she certainly could do plenty of damage with those remaining lives. When Seti had approached, Sean had still been covering Julian, rising up to his feet as he inhaled deeply to try and push away the pain he was feeling all over. “I don't think any did, I --” Sean had barely managed to hand Julian to Seti when he had lost consciousness, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he blacked out from the blood loss. Though Sean had been mostly protected by the heavy clothes he had been wearing, the attacks from the crows had been several and had cut him deeper than either of them had realized.

[8:03 AM] Soup:

“--- do I need to call you a doctor?” Darius was growing concerned, Asher was acting completely crazy and -that- was saying a lot considering Wonderland and crazy went so hand in hand. Darius had left the room to peek outside and address a Diamond that was still standing guard at the door. “Bring the King some fish” It was all he had said to the guard before returning back to the room. “Yeah. Sean and Seti are troublesome, but that damn Cheshire Cat is even more. If we are lucky, she has already been dealt with.” Chances were, however, BB was smart enough to lay low for awhile. As much as Darius hated to admit it, she wasn't only mischievous but also incredibly clever. Most Cheshire Cats were. “Aren't you the lucky one. I wouldn't mind sleeping all day – don't care too much for the barfing though.” The Hatter had rolled his eyes as Asher once again complained about him not singing for me. “Oh shut up will you? You were in and out of consciousness all day yesterday, I don't think you really knew at all what you wanted.” Dark eyes had watched as Asher made his way to the bathroom, shaking his head as he looked away and didn't noticed Asher's attention that was pulled toward the object by his dresser.

[8:03 AM] Soup:

“Good. Take a bath. You smell as bad as the Wocky' “ Darius had waved his hand in front of his nose mockingly before standing up to his feet and closing the distance between them. “I'll join you. You are probably still too weak to even wash yourself.” It wasn't like Asher hadn't had someone bathe him before, though it was quite a bit different to have -Darius- bathe him wasn't it? “Yes. Let's talk about who poisoned you. I wouldn't be surprised if it was that damn Cheshire Cat. And I'm here aren't I? I have BEEN here and when I wasn't here it wasn't exactly my fault now was it?” --- though there was one thing that had been in the back of Darius's mind. “--- so, how much sex did you have with that Hare? Now that the spell has been broken, I barely remember a thing.”

[8:05 AM] Karma:

Seti had grabbed onto Julian as Sean came over and handed the infant over to him. He stared at Sean seeing the other was hiding their pain immediately " Sean..." Though before he could finish the other had collapsed to the ground. Holding Julian he crouched down to shake Sean. He of course didn't know how to check for any signs of life, being as he was born long before those medical practices. Glancing around he narrowed his eyes before bringing a hand to his head, his eyes scanning over Sean for any other signs of life. Seeing the others chest going he concluded that the other had been alive, at the moment. Then he moved on to wondering just how in the world Sean had gotten injured so badly from birds. Seeing as, from what he could tell, the birds didn't attack the other for that long " Hm, must be from being a Hare. They aren't made for fighting." Seti set Julian down in his lap then as he went to sit lotus style beside Sean. His hands reaching out over the others body as he forced his powers to activate. Slowly his eyes began to glow green, and even more slowly Sean's wounds had started to seal. "No! No doctors...Uhm." He cleared his throat before sitting up in the bed as Darius pulled away and moved outside of the room before asking for fish " HEY! I like fish!" Asher shouted excitedly from the room before reaching up to grab his head, wincing a little as a spell of dizziness hit him. Looking up then he narrows his eyes as Darius comes back " Oh, yes. That Cheshire cat...Wait...Which one are we talking about? There are so many..." Wincing a little he cupped a hand over one side of his face, dropping it down a little as tried to focus his thoughts.

[8:05 AM] Karma:

Though when Darius went on he let out a breath, slouching as it came off as complaining to him " Fine. I'll just barf on the inside. I GUESS!" He threw up his hands in frustration before turning his head away from the other. A moment later however he was looking back toward Darius when they told him to shut up " Oh, you think that's the case. You might be right. I'm so confused." However once he got up he swayed slightly trying to get his balance. After all, he wasn't feeling very well balanced at that moment.

Once in the bathroom though he had turned on the water before rolling his eyes " Like you know what a fucking Wocky smells like, cunt." Asher muttered before sitting down next to the tub and laying his head against the side as he was testing the waters to see if they were his preferred temperature. However it wasn't long before Darius was deciding he would join him " Oh won't that be so lovely of you.... I-- I don't imagine I am..." Of course he hadn't tried, now had he? Getting up he slumped a little bit, showing he was perhaps just that weak at the moment. Grinning at Darius then he looked toward him " Oh, look at that. I'm feeling like a wet noodle."

[8:06 AM] Karma:

Slipping out of his clothes and then into the tub wasn't so hard and it had been just the right, cool temperature for his burning skin to soak into. Dropping at his waste he closed his eyes. His long black hair falling over his head and face, not as greasy as one could imagine, it still had a little bit of a silky clean look to it. Turning his head a little though, the strands of hair on his face slipping to show little pieces of it. Asher looked toward Darius as the other spoke of BB poisoning him " I wouldn't put it passed plenty of others, to want me dead. But she seems to be the most likely to have done it." He grinned then as Darius went on " Yes. Here you are here." He then glanced away, his nose twitching " Well, perhaps some of the time, it hasn't been your fault. But you know damn well other times you haven't exactly been at my side, since I became king. Though I guess you have a lot of work to do." And that Asher had known Darius wasn't much into the royal side of things. The other had made it pretty clear that they thought weren't good enough for him, and that sort of thinking could make it's way into the universe the more Darius thought or spoke of it, the more realistic it could become for him. "OH! How much sex?" He searched his mind for any memory, or any thing that could tell him " None. Interesting, I suppose. Though he was a total cock block. I see you are quite a moody thing you are. But he... he wouldn't seem to stop thinking of something else. He's far too easily distracted, and he was really mean to me." Asher mumbled before giving a pouty look " Can you believe that.--- I am too adorable to be mean to. And yet here this Rabbit is, being so cruel to me. He hurt my feelings." Asher then dumped a thing of water over his head as if Sean's meanness hadn't really mattered at all to him.

[azvolrien]

Anchored Tempest - Chapter Five

I’m on a roll. We shall have to see how long it lasts.

~~~

           Karash and Ikara’s house was the biggest in the village. Like most of the houses, it was formed out of domed structures built from stone, smoothed with fired clay, and linked by short arched corridors, but it was three times the size of the next-largest and sat surrounded by fields. A few hardy mountain cattle grazed around it, and fled to the other side of their pasture when Star drew close. On the other side of the house stood a large wooden barn, big enough to comfortably house two Rohones and with a covered platform on the roof for Tsheer.

           “This is a big house for just two people,” said Una.

           “We used to have a bigger family,” said Karash.

           “I’m sorry, I didn’t –”

           “It’s fine, you couldn’t have known.” He caught her eye, sighed, and answered the question she had chosen not to ask aloud. “There was a sickness in the village when Ikara was a toddler. Our whole family came down with it. Only she and I recovered.”

           Star thought that should make them more sympathetic to the dragons’ problem.

           “Maybe, but I’m not going to say that,” Una quietly told her. “It’s not tactful.”

           “What was that?” asked Karash.

           “Nothing – just Star being Star.”

           Karash shrugged and spoke to Ikara, who nodded back and took off with Tsheer for a tower perched on a crag high above the village. After a few minutes, the deep sound of a huge drum rumbled out across the valley. The beat was soon taken up by a second tower to the south.

           “What was that?” asked Una.

           “The message drummers, warning the Warren to expect visitors,” said Karash. “They won’t appreciate it if we bring a dragon there unannounced.”

           “You have a drumbeat for ‘dragon’?” asked Una.

           “Not exactly.” Karash took the hand-drum from his sash and tapped out a little rhythm with the tips of his claws. “That one is ‘friendly’,” he explained, before demonstrating a different beat. “And that one is ‘god’. Maybe we should make a separate one for ‘dragon’…” He hung the drum back on his sash and clambered down from Rohone’s shoulders. “Anyway, get Star settled and I’ll show you around the house.”

           The inside of the house was more comfortable than Una had expected. The floors were either sanded wood or smooth flagstones, covered here and there with warm rugs, and each of the domes served a separate purpose; the largest was a general living and dining area, filled with low tables and squashy couches padded with wool and covered with soft cloth or brushed leather, while a wide archway led through to a second, slightly smaller dome housing a kitchen large enough to cook for a whole battalion of hungry orcs. Karash’s cooking out in the woods had led Una to expect a simple firepit, perhaps with a spit for meat or a tripod to balance a cauldron, but the kitchen was furnished with an enormous brick oven and a row of three wood-fired iron stoves, as well as a long, beautifully-polished stone basin and a clever mechanical pump that filled it with clear, cold water from somewhere outside. The latrines were kept in a small separate dome of their own, a little away from the main house and linked by a covered walkway to avoid any mad dashes in the rain, but their bathroom was otherwise well-appointed with a sink much like the kitchen’s and a stone tub so big that Una initially took it for an indoor swimming pool.

           “It must be a bit cold to bathe in,” she said once Ikara stopped laughing at her mistake.

           “We do have a water-heating tank,” said Karash, “but there’s no fuel in the furnace, since we’ve been away, and it takes so long to heat up that it’s probably not worth it if we’re leaving in a couple of days. And Star will not fit into the furnace chamber,” he added, correctly interpreting the idea that lit up Una’s face.

           “Aw.”

           “Though you’re welcome to have a bath if you don’t mind the cold. The water’s safe to drink as well, if you’re thirsty – it’s drawn from the river, but we filter it before it ever reaches the houses.”

           Una gave the pump by the sink an experimental turn, sending a brief stream of water splashing against the polished granite. “Would you say your village is isolated?” she asked.

           “Well… That depends what you mean,” said Karash. “We have Ikara and the message-drums, so news, other messages and anything else small enough to be carried by a rukh can get here easily enough… but the next village is more than a day away on the ground, and that’s travelling at a brisk pace. Why do you ask?”

           “In Stormhaven, near where I grew up – well, not very near – there are a few settlements high up in the Chainbreaker Hills. But they’re… Most of them still don’t have running water. I suppose I didn’t expect somewhere so far up in the mountains like this to be as… Comfortable.”

           “We have the river for water, and the forest for wood,” said Karash with a shrug. “Everything else is just cleverness. Come on, the rest of the house is through this way.”

           He led her out of the bathroom, Ikara following behind, and through to another large dome. This one didn’t have very much in the way of furniture; just a wide, shallow, round depression in the floor, padded with a mattress of wool and linen and completely covered with cushions, blankets and quilts. Doorways all around the room led to other chambers beyond.

           “And this is the bedroom,” said Karash. “My personal rooms are down through that doorway; Ikara has the ones up there. The rest of them… I suppose we could turn them into guest rooms, but right now they’re just full of old boxes.”

           “Bedroom?”

           “Yes.”

           “Singular?”

           “Well, yes,” said Karash. “People need their own spaces, but everyone just piles up together for sleeping.” He glanced down at Una. “Is that… not how you do things?”

           Una slowly shook her head. “Where I’m from… usually only couples share a bed. Other people sleep in separate beds. Often separate rooms.”

           “Ah. Hm. Well, I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable…”

           “No, it’s fine,” said Una after a few seconds of recalibrating her thinking. “It’s – it’s a very big bed. I’ll just find my own bit of it.”

           The next couple of days passed, if not without incident, at least without violence. A couple of unfamiliar Windkindred appeared with their rukha the day after Una’s arrival, each armed with plain but razor-sharp fighting knives as well as short spears like Ikara’s, but Karash’s status as a Memory-Singer clearly counted for more than he had let on; both of the older females listened to his explanation in patient silence, looked Una up and down, briefly inspected the barn where Star had made her nest, and left again.

           “They’re not going to fetch reinforcements, are they?” asked Una.

           “You’re fine,” Karash assured her. “With luck, they’ll clear the way for us so we can get to the Warren unchallenged. You and Ikara would be able to fly down there in a matter of hours, but it’ll be a few days’ ride with me and Rohone along – and you’re not leaving me behind.”

           “You can’t ride with one of us?”

           “Sky above, no,” said Karash with a laugh. “An adult male like me? You wouldn’t even get off the ground.”

           “No, I suppose not.”

           As planned, they set off for the Warren the following morning. It was a clear, cool day, with only a few high, fine wisps of cloud above the mountains other than around the Tempest Spires, where the storm still roiled in place. A few of the orcs from the village turned out to see them off, but they did so without much ceremony; Fireesh gave them a loaf of bread for the journey and Jari passed on a few messages for the Warren, but no speeches were made or any music played. Karash braced one foot on Rohone’s trunk and climbed up to his customary place on the beast’s shoulders. Ikara double-checked the straps of Tsheer’s harness and swung herself up onto his back.

           “Are you ready for this?” asked Una.

           Star lifted her head and gave her a haughty stare. Una needed to ask?

           “Well… Still, let the orcs take the lead. They know the land here, and the people. We’ll get into less trouble that way.

           That didn’t sound like much fun.

           “You saw the bones up in the mountains,” said Una. “These people have killed dragons – lot of dragons, ones much older and much bigger than you. You cannot be as reckless here as you can back in the north.”

           Star let a cloud of steam puff from her jaws in a sigh. If they were attacked, she would defend – but she wouldn’t strike first.

           “I suppose that’s fair. Keep an eye on Ikara and Tsheer – they probably have a better handle on what’s actually an attack and what’s just a show of force.”

           Star didn’t trust that feathery dragon.

           “I don’t think he’s actually a – never mind. Let’s just get on the road.”

           Despite Karash’s earlier warning, Rohone moved with deceptive speed; while his gait never moved above a brisk walk, his pillar-like legs were so long that his walk was almost as fast as a horse’s canter, and he steadily ate up the miles as they followed the winding packed-earth road down the valley, past fields of crops and herds of livestock. The next morning, Karash led their little troop in a half-circle around a bigger village built on both sides of the river, but they didn’t escape unnoticed: a guard astride a huge aurochs bull rode out to speak with Karash, followed by a younger female with a wolf tagging at her heels. Whatever Karash said to them, they seemed doubtful, but the guard lowered his spear after a last cautious glance at Star and rode back to the village. The female and her wolf followed after a more curious look at Star.

           “Two Bridges was founded by refugees from the lowlands before the Last Revolt,” explained Karash as they moved off again. “Survivors of one of Voice of the Mountain’s rampages. Their memories of the dragons are… not good. You might have been in trouble if you came here alone.”

           Una eyed a ballista mounted on a watch tower, and could only nod.

           They kept travelling down the river valley until Karash led them off the road and up through a narrow pass, high enough that snow speckled the ground but not so steep that Rohone couldn’t handle the incline. On the other side, the rocky mountainside sloped down into a new valley, a little narrower but still green and cultivated like that of Crooked River.

           Halfway down into the valley, Star froze in place and reared up on her hind legs, nearly dislodging Una from her seat. Karash and Ikara both looked around to see what had upset her.

           “Ah,” said Karash. “I’d forgotten that was there.”

           The skeleton of a dragon lay before them. It was about three times the size of Star, and unlike the Garden of Bones this one had not been artfully rearranged; it just sprawled where it had fallen, its wings stretched out across the mountainside and a few of its vertebrae rolled out of place to lodge against boulders and in crevices. The skull lay half on its side, twisted out of place and tangled in briars that had grown since its death. The neck bones behind it had been sheared into pieces by the fury of its long-ago killer’s attack, and its ribs were cracked where it had slammed into the mountain.

           Star arched her neck, pulling her head as close to her shoulders as it would go.

           “You find a lot of dragon skeletons back in the north,” said Una. “From when the Devourer came. But they’re usually… not as damaged.”

           “Red Snow in the Killing Winter,” said Karash. “It came to terrorise the high valleys in the beginning of the Last Revolt, after the fall of Voice of the Mountain. The Windkindred slew it here, but not before it burned every village in four valleys. Don’t feel too bad for it.”

           Star slowly drew back from the skeleton and gave it a wide berth as she carried on down the mountainside. The dragons she knew did not do such things.

           “These weren’t like the dragons we know,” said Una quietly.

           She understood that. But still.

           Red Snow’s bones were not the last they found on the way to the Warren. In the next pass, three skulls even bigger than Red Snow’s had been mounted on sturdy wooden posts, while more than one village had made use of long bones for roof supports and door lintels. Nor were all of the orcs as welcoming as the people of Crooked River Village, but Karash was quick to intervene before anyone came to blows.

           Another few days went by, crossing through high passes and fording rivers in low valleys, until Karash finally called a halt on a quiet trail up a small, densely-forested valley.

           “We’re here,” he said.

           Una looked around. “I don’t see anything.”

           “That’s by design. Right, there are some caves a little further up that way – Star will need to stay there. She won’t fit in the Warren.”

           Star did not like leaving Una by herself.

           “I’ll be fine with Karash,” Una assured her. “You’ll have Rohone to keep you company.”

           Star didn’t think much of Rohone’s conversational skills, but she turned and crawled off towards the promised caves. Karash climbed down to the ground and let Rohone lumber after her. After a quick word from Karash, Ikara and Tsheer followed as well, though not without a deep sigh from Ikara.

           “They’ll keep her safe if anyone shows up,” said Karash. “This way.”

           He walked off the trail into the trees, shoving through ferns and shrubs until he reached an odd rock formation, covered in moss and shaped a little like a sleeping lion. Una stood back as he poked the fingers of one hand into a narrow crack beneath what resembled the lion’s head and felt around until, with a faint click, he lifted the slab of rock to reveal a round hatchway only a little wider than his shoulders and a metal ladder leading down into the gloom.

           “This isn’t the only entrance,” said Karash, “but it’s the easiest to get to from Crooked River Village. You go first; I’ll shut the hatch behind us.”

           The ladder led about twenty feet straight down until the shaft opened out into a dark, rough-hewn stone tunnel. It was cramped for an orc of Karash’s size – he was forced to duck his head and turn his shoulders sideways – but Una could easily stand upright. The sound of voices drifted on the still air in the tunnel, but strange echoes made it impossible to tell how many or make out any words.

           “Keep going,” said Karash. “Don’t worry about the dark, there’s nothing to trip on.”

           Una shrugged and walked down the tunnel. A light appeared around a bend up ahead and the voices grew a little louder. She turned the corner, blinking in the sudden light, and stopped in her tracks.

           The passage opened onto a broad stone gallery, high on the wall of the biggest cavern Una had ever seen. At one end of the cavern, a mighty waterfall cascaded to a deep, incredibly clear pool, from which a subterranean river flowed along the cave floor more than two hundred feet below where Una and Karash stood. The clash of hammers echoed up from forges along the banks of the river, while music sounded from down more passageways leading off the main cavern.

           There were orcs everywhere. Males and females alike strode busily along the ledges lining the walls of the vast cavern and over the bridges and stairways linking them together, all hard at work at their own tasks. Three adolescent males trotted behind a silver-haired female, listening closely as she lectured them in their own language. A blacksmith with a heavy leather apron cinched around his waist and scorched fur on his forearms hurried down to the forges. A team of carpenters replaced some planks from a walkway, while another pair of metalworkers carefully repaired the safety railing on one high ledge.

           As well as the orcs, there were animals. Here, a snow leopard prowled close behind an old female orc; there, an odd-looking eagle perched on the shoulder of a male. Halfway along one ledge, anyone passing by had to pause and carefully step over a snoozing boar. Bats fluttered around the high stone ceiling, but no droppings speckled the floors.

           Karash stood beside Una at the edge of the gallery and folded his arms. “It’s been so long since I saw this place for the first time, I forgot how it must look to a newcomer.” He leant on the railing and gestured out at the cavern. “Welcome to the Warren.”

~~~

The Warren originated as a natural cave system carved out by the underground river, but the orcs excavated several more chambers themselves.

The ‘odd-looking eagle’ is what we would recognise as a Philippine eagle, but I expect they call it something else.

[fableweaver]

Arc of the Little Saint

Demi had never been through the northern part of the holy city and was glad to be traveling with the Dontamen when she had. The northern part of the city was home to the slums and the poor, vast numbers of people crammed into a small space. This place had seen the most battles of the city, and so much lay in ruins. Many of the people had set up shanty houses or tents in the ruins, making a maze of the streets and buildings. Ippa stared out at the crowded streets and the crumbling buildings here in awe.

“I thought the holy city would be cleaner,” she said staring at the piles of refuse in alleyways. From the elephant’s back they had a good view of the streets and people.

“It is, this is just the poor parts of the city,” Demi answered, wanting Ippa to give the holy city a chance.

Since the elephants could only travel the wider streets they had a limited path they could take through the city. As they rode they came to a grand square where a fountain stood with a large pool. Ippa gasped to see the statue in the middle of the fountain and Demi blushed as well. She had never seen the famous statue of Dione, the demi goddess of love. She was completely naked, and carven with enough detail to appear lifelike.

People lounged around the fountain, some even swimming in it, and Demi spotted a few ochre women. Their hair and skin dyed red with ochre so they could be spotted in crowds, these women were sworn to spread love like Dione. Demi blushed to see some bearing their breasts, others with bare legs as they lounged around the fountains waiting for men to come to them. Ippa saw them and blushed looking away to the crowds.

“Do you see your family?” Ippa asked.

“They wouldn’t be here,” Demi answered staring out into the crowd. The nomads gathered in the south of the city, all the people here were Lonemen the stationary people of the desert. As they rode through the slums they saw many people, the sick, the old, the young, and many others. There were foreigners as well and Ippa gasped when she saw them.

“That one is completely white!” she shouted pointing at a man dressed in robes with silver coins hanging from the hems. His hair and skin were bone white and when he turned they saw his eyes were red. He wasn’t on foot; he rode a camel with a caravan of other Lonemen and slaves.

“That’s a mage of the north,” Demi said having heard of them but never seeing one. They rarely traveled so far south, and she wondered what brought the mage to Evalon.

“Mage?” Ippa asked. “What is a mage?”

“They have magic powers,” Demi said grinning, Tri had teased her with the same stories and she couldn’t resist doing the same. “They can make cloth fly and stones shine. I even heard they have turned men into toads.”

Ippa squealed and hid until they passed the mage but returned to gaze out into the city again. A deep bell tolled telling it was time for Pale Hour prayers. The people stopped like a tide halting, animals brought to a halt. Prayers were offered out in the streets with little ceremony, hand signs given to the sky. The prayers were short and soon everyone was moving again.

They were traveling south through the city, and at last passed a canal that separated the slums from the craftsman’s district. Here the buildings became nicer, and a strange mix between the Xinian style and northern style. Some windows had shutters instead of curtains, and the doors were square rather than the arch entrance typical of Xinian architecture.

The people were of better class, with nicer kaftans and healthier complexion. There were still a few shady people lingering in shadows, but the working class ignored them as they went about their business. They passed by a great bazaar, Demi and Ippa getting a great view of the market through the tall arched opening. The bazaar was in a hall taller than the elephants and covered in a mosaic of colorful tiles. They saw great tables and wagons covered in piles of fine spices, fruits of every color and shape, gems and jewelry, and silks and fine fabrics. The smell of curry and saffron mixed with the perfumes of jasmine and lily.

They passed the bazaar, Demi knowing there were many just like it over the city. The main road they followed lead out into another wheel of traffic, all centered around the temple of Lun. Demi made a sign of reverence as they rode by the great white temple dedicated to the goddess of the moon. Made of all white marble the temple was a great dome supported by tall pillars.

Clerics and holy women moved in and out of the temple, wearing Lun’s symbol and silver. Ippa stared, making a sign of reverence as well. They had to ride around the temple and on through the city some more. The buildings became nicer and Demi knew they were approaching the Arc.

Here in the holy city the wealthier lived near the water the life of everything in the desert. They emerged out of the buildings and saw the greatest view of the holy city. The Arc flowed before them in a wide swath, dark blue and clear in Sol’s light. Across the water was the peninsula; at the tip was Sol’s Temple.

A great dome plated with gold burned like Sol at the tip of the peninsula a true tribute to the Sun God. The rest of the peninsula was green, a jungle in the middle of a city. It was beautiful, reminding Demi of the Oasis of Hamil. The gardens were made on a hill of the peninsula, an artificial landmass made in the middle of the city. Boats and ships of every size traveled the river, some a wealthy lord’s barge and other’s a poor man’s skiff. The shore here was small docks and homes of the well to working class, verandas and gardens looking out over the water.

To the east Demi could see the hill that the palace sat on and Isra’s temple not far from it. Below the palace were the wealthy homes of the rich traders and lords of Xin, marble shinning in the sun. They were far from the palace so it was hard to see through the heat and dust on the horizon.

“How will we cross?” Ippa asked, the water was deep and far.

“There is a bridge to the west of here,” Demi answered.

Traveling along the river let the elephant’s cool their feet and be free of the press of the crowds. Demi and Ippa looked to the south, watching the green gardens and the ships sail slowly past. There were others in the water as well, bathing or cooling themselves in the great stream. Here the river never shrank and was always cool and clear water. Many said it was the blessings of the gods, now Demi guessed it was something more.

Sol rose higher in the sky as they traveled, and Demi knew it would take them a good part of the day to even reach the bridge. There were ferries that most people used to cross the Arc here, but of course none were big enough for the elephants. The bells tolled again to call for the High Hour prayers. In the middle of the day many took their leave of the sun, but just as many flocked to the river and canals to keep cool.

“It is so beautiful here,” Ippa sighed looking out over the gardens. “Do you know the history of the city?”

“My mother taught me much,” Demi answered. “The city has been fought over for centuries in the Cursed Age. The Regarians came and saw the riches of the desert, if they wished control of those riches they needed to get control of the Arc and thus the holy city. To those of Xin this place has always been sacred, always holy. The Regarians brought the word of the gods to us and we gladly took to them.”

“For we were like the desert dry and in need of faith,” Ippa said nodding; she knew how the Sect had come to Xin.

“Yes, but while we were willing to listen to the words of the gods we would not give the most holy of places to the Regarians. For an Age we warred with them, control of the holy city shifted season to season. Until the Green Man came.”

“Green Man?” Ippa asked amazed.

“In the north his is known as Absalom of the Deep Woods,” Demi answered. “The first High King of the Nine Kingdoms. He came and spoke to the Elders of the city; Evalon was once ruled by an elite few rather than one single king. He said he wanted peace, to make it so only trade would come to Xin and our holy city would stay ours.

“The elders agreed and sent a representative to the moot of Kings. He became our first king, King Loearuna of the Lonemen.”

“The king now is Nejem,” Ippa said.

“The Nejems took Xin’s throne from the Jiras,” Demi answered; “Who took it from the Loearuna early in the history of the kingdoms.”

“I take it there is a long story to all that,” Ippa said sounding a little bored with history.

“There is but, I do not know it,” Demi answered. “Our peoples have cared only that the holy city remains ours, we do not care who rules it.”

“True,” Ippa said turning back to the view. “Look, the bridge!”

Demi joined her and looked out to see the bridge spanning over the river. Great sandstone blocks covered in white crumbling plaster arched over the river, tall enough to let ships pass by under it. It was a grand structure, symbols to the gods painted or molded into the sides of the bridge. It was a northerner’s construct; Xinians did not have the knowledge to build such a large structure. Many people and animals lounged in the shaded water under the bridge, the water there coolest of all.

A great staircase led down into the water, which the elephants used to get up the bank and onto the bridge. Again, they were granted a fantastic view of the city and river from the bridge and Demi hurried to the other side to see the city to the west. Ippa joined her to see the rest of the city. To the west there were many guard towers and walls, the buildings lower under the wall. The river continued on beyond the wall to water the fields and farms downstream.

“What is that place?” Ippa asked pointing to the south west of them. Demi looked to see the great walled portion of the city.

“That is the slave district,” Demi answered and Ippa grew morose.

They rode on over the bridge and into the gardens. Great tall trees, strangler figs, rubber trees, eucalyptus, palms, magnolias, sandalwood, teaks, and even bamboo stood shading the road. The smell of vegetation and water was strong in the dappled shade, the traffic moved slowly as everyone wanted to savor the greenery. Ippa stared with her mouth slightly agape; she had probably never seen so much greenery in her life.

Birds chattered and sang like a crowd talking all at once, many visible in the branches of the trees. It was law in Evalon that once a bird roosted in these trees it would remain free and untouched, so many birds lived here. The same applied to monkeys, frogs, and other animals. Many people came and fed them, so it wasn’t surprising to see monkeys and birds crowding the road waiting for a treat.

Demi ducked into the tent and fetched some flat bread, Vega looking at her before going back to sleep. Demi tore up pieces and held her hands out. She didn’t have long to wait as a parrot flew down to land on her arm and begin to eat.

“You really are a Pinmen,” Ippa said impressed.

“They know me well,” Demi answered and pointed. Ippa laughed as she looked up to see a whole gaggle of parrots on the top of their tent waiting for some bread. “Watch,” Demi said with a smile. She tossed the bread up into the air and the parrots flew in great flock; not even a crumb fell to the ground.  

They reached Eha’s temple in the middle of the jungle, and Ippa gasped to see it. The Goddess of the Dusk’s temple was an archway, the gateway wide and the marble carven into elaborate designs. The structure was a square but the opening a rounded arch, giving plenty of space for carvings in the marble. They passed through the gate, making signs to the goddess of the dusk.

They moved on through the jungle, passing other marble statues and sculptures along the road side. Ippa laughed at a monkey that sat on the head of a distinguished statue of a king. They reached the edge of the jungle once again crossing another bridge over the other branch of the Arc. To the west was the slave district, but Ippa and Demi turned to the east to look at the rest of the city.

Just before them were the docks, ships by the score gathered along the bank and wharfs. Warehouses stood by the docks, low stone buildings for the goods the ships brought. Further upstream stood the Temple of Cael; the grand tower standing tall over the warehouses. Beyond that tower was the merchant district, the homes of the wealthy merchants of Xin. A hill rose behind the merchant district, even larger wealthier houses of the lords of Xin rested.

Just visible over the city was the palace and Isra’s temple. They seemed to hover on the horizon, shimmering in the heat of the day like mirages.

The bridge did not lead to the docks or the merchant district however. Leaning out of the tent they could look ahead and see the nomad’s district. Here there were no permanent buildings but for the temples and the walls of the city. Tents covered the whole of the plain, colorful or drab, great or poor. The animals of the nomads gathered in corals, each type of mount getting their own space since some did not get along well with the other.

They reached the end of the bridge and walked out into the streets of the nomads’ district. Demi knew this place well and was already looking for the Pinmen camp. Palm trees shaded wells and the streets, monkeys and birds roosting in the trees.

“We will go to the Dontamen’s camp first,” Ippa said. “Then we can go look for your family.”

Demi nodded, and watched reluctantly as they rode through the tent city. Each tribe tended to group together near the corals where their animals were kept. Tents tended to take on characteristics of each tribe, Pinmen hanging feathers for instance. The streets were fluid but wide, the nomads liked going where they pleased.

The Wickerfolk camped near the bridge, rather than tents they lived in woven wicker huts that were just as disposable. There were many of the Wickerfolk, their boats either still in the canal or stored on shore since they could be easily carried. The Pridesmen made camp near the slave district where all their money was made. None of the Panthra were allowed in the holy city, so the Pridesmen made their camps alone in low domed tents.

Past the Pridesmen stood the Temple of Winds, dedicated to the four gods of the winds. The temple was a giant wind flute, a tall pillar carven with holes that caused a droning sound every time the wind blew through it. The gods of the winds were never depicted in physical form; they were believed to be sounds rather than had physical bodies.

Around the temple gathered the Galesmen and their wind contraptions. They had open tents pale in color, wind chimes singing everywhere. Past the Galesmen and the Temple of the Winds were the Dunesmen. They had a good portion of the city, their tents large but conservative in color. It was slightly military here, the Dunesmen never relaxed. Ippa stared at a fighting ring where several Dunesmen were practicing with their sabers.

They rode on through the Dunesmen’s camp to the Horse Lords’ camp. Their camp was more opulent but just as large, great pens for their herds. In the middle of their camp was Mercore’s Temple. The demi god of travel was the most sacred of the gods to the nomads so here the temple was the greatest in this part of the city. The temple had four tiers, four long staircases leading up to the altar. The white sandstone was painted blue and green, kept clean and beautiful from dust.

They rode up to the temple, bells were sounding again to call for the Burning Hour Prayers. They got down off the elephant and joined the crowd around the temple and offered their prayers to the demi god. Mounting up again they set out past the Temple of Mercore. Next to the Horse Lords were the Llemen, their tents well-kept and camels pampered. They had few pens for other animals, so goats wandered around freely.

Past the Llemen were the Pinmen. Demi leaned out of the tent precariously as she gazed out at the familiar tents. They were all colorful, and many bird perches stood with tropical birds roosting and feeding at the offered seeds. The Pennam were gathered in a pen, many tribes gathered here. Demi did not see her family but the Pinmen camp was great, they could be there still.

Past the Pinmen camp was the Zarman camp. Here the tents were modest in color but not in size, Testudines resting in the sun. The Zarmen did not bring the Hannah into the city; it was too dangerous to bring such predators among the other mounts. They neared the hill where the wealthy lived and this was where the Dontamen had their camp. Their tents were great and they had a good amount of space for their elephants.

They found a space to set up camp and began unloading the elephants. Demi stood by with Ippa, waiting for the men to be done with setting up camp. She kept looking back towards the Pinmen camp as Sol began sinking low in the sky. At last Hamid came over to them, the camp set up and the elephants tended to.

“It is near our Ebbing Hour prayers,” he said looking at Demi apologetically. “I think it best we rest for the day and we can begin the search for your family tomorrow. It is dangerous in the city at night.”

“Of course,” Demi said disappointed. They went to one of the tents and sat for supper, Ippa and Demi had been too excited through the day to eat. They dined on a fair feast, pilaf, grilled goat, stewed squash, flat bread, goat cheese, and spiced pineapples. After supper it was time for their prayers, they went out and offered their prayers to the stars. Afterwards Hamid insisted they go to bed, both exhausted from their travel and excitement.

Demi fell asleep easily despite her anxiety, her sleep dreamless and peaceful. The next day she woke well before dawn and woke Ippa as well.

“What is it?” Ippa asked sleepily.

“Come on, I’m going to look for my family,” Demi said. “Let’s go before your father wakes.”

“Alright,” Ippa said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. They dressed and grabbed a few oranges for breakfast. They quickly cast their rising hour prayers to the sky. Demi grabbed a stick and carried Vega on her shoulder. They hurried out of camp, only a few other people were stirring. Demi led the way back towards the Pinmen camp, but it took longer on foot. Nearly an hour later they reached the Pinmen camp, Sol starting to rise.

Demi led the way, walking among the tents and looking for a familiar one. For most of the morning they circled through the camp, but Demi did not see a familiar tent anywhere. The Pennam all were different, their saddles and feathers marked to show what tribe they belonged to, but none were of the Kartal tribe.

“Don’t worry, you’ll find them,” Ippa said after their Pale Hour prayers. “Maybe they’ve camped somewhere else. Here,” Ippa said holding out her purse string which held several silver royals and some copper pieces.

“For what?” Demi asked.

“I would feel naked without my ivory, I am sure you feel the same without your feathers,” Ippa said with a smile. Demi smiled back to her gratefully and took a few coins. She went up to a feather merchant who was selling many colorful feathers and some Pinmen kaftans. She bought a new kufiyah, a handful of feathers, a kaftan, and a new sash embroidered with a feather pattern.

“I’ll trade you all of this for that shawl you’re wearing,” the merchant said as Demi started to take off the fine Dontamen indigo shawl she wore. She turned to Ippa who nodded; it would save her coin it seemed. Demi handed it over and dressed, feeling better to wear familiar clothes. “You are a Pinmen right?” the merchant asked.

“Yes sir,” Demi said. “My tribe is the Kartal tribe and last rested at the Oasis of Hamil. I was separated from my family and have been traveling with various tribes until I got here. I am looking for my family; they were supposed to be here weeks ago.”

“The Kartal tribe?” the merchant said seeming to think. “No, I’m afraid I haven’t heard of anyone from there arriving. Keep looking, maybe someone else has heard something.”

Demi nodded and continued on. She and Ippa continued to search the camp, but Demi didn’t see any familiar faces or Pennam. After High Hour prayers they ate at a food stand, goat stew, flat bread, and mangos. They rested through the hottest hours of the day in a common tent.

“We should ask around like that merchant said,” Ippa said and Demi nodded.

Their search continued Demi questioning other merchants and Pinmen. Sol began to sink in the sky and after Burning Hour prayers Demi called a halt.

“We said nothing when we left, your father must be worried by now,” Demi said.

“You’re right,” Ippa said. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”

“No one has seen them,” Demi said as they started to walk back to the Dontamen’s camp.

“There are many people here,” Ippa said.

“But my family would have gotten here months ago,” Demi said.

“Maybe they left,” Ippa said. “We should ask those that have been here since then, maybe they know when they left.”

“My mother was sent here to get answers for the omens,” Demi said shaking her head. “She wouldn’t have left until she learned something.”

“Maybe she did,” Ippa said. “We should ask about the omens as well.”

Demi sighed; she could only feel hopelessly alone. They returned to the Dontamen’s camp and got a scolding for going off alone. That night at dinner they shared a tent with the other Dontamen from the desert. Tales were being told and news shared. At first the talk concerned the rains and when they would come, until Hamid called for attention.

“Friends, we have a visitor from the Pinmen with us,” Hamid said, and everyone turned to him. “She is a lost one and has a long tale to tell. Demi.”

Demi felt her face grow hot as everyone looked at her, but she took her place in the center where the story teller was. She told her tale as best she could, everyone listening with rapt attention. When she finished she bowed and was about to retreat when someone asked a question. Before she knew it, Demi was answering a thousand questions, details of her story she had forgotten. They spent most of the night on Demi’s story, and she was hoarse by the time they finished.

Little did Demi know this was just the beginning. During the next few days she went in search for her family, but still learned nothing from those she spoke to. But word had spread in another way, from the Dontamen her story spread and wherever she went people asked to hear her tale. Soon at every meal time or just after prayers Demi was dragged to one camp or another to tell her story. Not just to the Pinmen, but to all the nomads.

She could see how the tale was popular, it was a modern-day Tales of the Lost, a wanderer facing dangers and guided by the gods. But it seemed more than that. Demi had kept out the ideas she had about what Slad had told her about the origins of the Arc, but she kept Slad in the story. The news of the Phay marching seemed to inspire people, and Demi saw elders and young alike seeming to come alive with the idea.

The news of change was interesting enough, but Demi realized it was more than that. It was the idea that there was something greater out there, that there were spirits other than themselves who were intelligent as well. Beings that as old tales said were great and powerful in the ways of nature and arcane arts. It was news of change and something beyond the ordinary.

Demi went from camp to camp daily on requests to tell her story so much she soon lost the time to continue her hunt. Umat and Ippa went with her everywhere, Demi feeling a bit strange to be escorted like she was someone of import. Her search going astray Demi was ready to give up after ten days.

“You can stay with us,” Ippa said that night as she combed Demi’s hair. Her hair was only shoulder length, but longer than Ippa’s peach fuzz. “I know my father would accept you.”

“Maybe,” Demi said despondently. She knew the way back to the Oasis of Hamil, but without someone to take her she would never reach it. But her tribe would have moved on by now and she had no way of knowing which oasis they moved on to.

“You’ve looked everywhere,” Ippa said.

“No, there is one place we haven’t looked yet,” Demi said realizing she was right.

“Where?” Ippa asked.

“The slave district,” Demi answered and Ippa gasped. “If my family was captured by Pridesmen they would end up in the holy city to be traded, it is where most slaves end up since this is where the market is.”

“Wouldn’t the Pridesmen just keep them?” Ippa asked.

“The Pridesmen sell slaves, they only keep a few,” Demi answered.

“Umat will never let us go to the slave district,” Ippa said.

“That is why I need you to distract him, so I can get away tomorrow,” Demi answered.

“I won’t let you go alone!” Ippa argued.

“I’ve faced Pridesmen, sandstorms, hyena, crocodiles, and even a Phay spirit,” Demi said. “I can face the slave district. They’re my family Ippa not yours.”

“You’re my friend!” Ippa said.

“So I need you to stay behind and send Umat after me if I don’t come back,” Demi said. “I’ll take Vega with me, don’t worry.”

“I will worry,” Ippa said churlishly. Demi smiled sadly and hugged her, grateful for her support. The next day, after pale hour prayers they set out into the city again, Umat walking alongside them with a spear resting against his shoulder. When they reached the Temple of Mercore Demi nodded to Ippa.

“Ouch!” Ippa said, maybe a bit too dramatically, and stumbled.

“Ippa, what’s wrong?” Umat said helping her stand.

“My sandal,” Ippa said hopping around on one foot and drawing Umat’s attention away. Demi slipped off into the crowd silently, Vega still perched on the stick she carried. The crowds were thick around the temple; it was a meeting place of many roads after all. Demi got away quickly, walking fast but not running.

On foot it took her a long time to walk the distance to the slave district. Shortly after High hour prayers she stood at the end of the bridge that led to the slave district. The crowds were just as thick, but many of those coming and going were Chainmen. Pridesmen led groups chained together over the bridge and to the heavily guarded district.

Over the south, on another island, stood the temple of the two demi gods Mavors and Saepit; a grand guard tower where the holy cities knights and warriors lived. The demi gods of war and guardians were the patrons of warriors, and so the guards of the city made home in their temple.

Demi took a deep breath and walked out onto the bridge. The slave district was well guarded with a thick wall, more to prevent the escape of slaves than to guard against attack. Entering the gates Demi balked at the smell of this part of the city. Stripped of the smells of spices and perfume, all that remained was the overall reek of humanity crammed into a small space. The buildings were low like barns, and as Demi walked past a few where the great doors stood open she saw people crammed into the buildings. All were Chainmen.

Looking around at the wash of humanity Demi wondered how she could find her family in all this. She never knew so many people were enslaved and had been born into slavery; wandering for an hour she still couldn’t find her family. She feared asking questions lest she attract attention. Slaves and Pridesmen were not the only ones here. The guards of the city loitered around, armed with fine sabers and bronze mail.

There was also the Lonemen, the wealthy looking to buy their slaves. Some seemed to be servants of the wealthy, prideful and servile at the same time. Demi felt very out of place, none of the other nomads were here.

She noticed something else as well among the slaves, men in burlap cloaks whispering to the other slaves. She recognized them as like the man from Kurone, the rotted man named Jerimiah of Dalton. She was surprised at how many there were, almost every building had one man like them in it. Some were chained, and others huddled in corners begging for alms. They were lepers, people avoiding their bandaged wrapped limbs and putrid odor.

Demi emerged into the market square and stopped in awe. A great stage was set up in the middle of the square and there an auction was going on. Slaves were brought forward, and bids were called out, the overall noise of the crowd deafening. Demi looked at those up for auction but again none were her family. She moved on, Sol growing high in Empyria. Prayers were not held and Demi feared stopping to pray so she gave her prayers while she walked.

The people she passed seemed desolate, without hope, crushed under the weight of their chains. Some still bore their henna telling of their tribes or place of origin, others seemed so drained of individuality they seemed like husks. There were men, women, even children, all bearing the brand of a chain somewhere on their bodies. They wore the poorest of clothes, some even naked except for the manacles that bound them. Her heart was breaking at every empty stare she met.

“Demi!” she whirled at the sound of her name and saw her mother standing at the end of the street. She wasn’t in chains, still wearing her kaftan and feathers in her kufiyah. Demi cried out and ran, Vega giving a squawk and flying off her perch. Hemi ran to meet her, scooping her up in a warm hung. Demi felt tears burn her eyes as she buried her face in her mother’s breasts. For a long time, they just held each other, Demi drinking in her scent of jasmine and pepper. At last they parted, Hemi smiling down at her warmly.

“How did you get here?” Hemi asked.

“That’s a long story,” Demi answered. “Where is everyone else?”

“I sent them back to the oasis,” Hemi said. “We could not stay here long if we remained in numbers.”

“Mother,” Demi said hugging her again. Hemi sighed heavily as she held her, rubbing her back soothingly.

“You aren’t a slave, are you?” Hemi asked worried. “I’ve come here every day looking for you.”

“No, are you?” Demi asked. “How have you lived in the holy city all this time alone?”

“I’m not a slave, come let us leave this horrid place,” Hemi said.

Demi nodded as she took her mother’s hand. Hemi took up the perch and waved to Vega who swopped down to land on the perch. Demi felt such utter relief to know her mother was alright, and eager to tell her tale.

“When I realized we lost you all I could do was send Vega back to you,” Hemi said as they walked. “I am so sorry Demi.”

“You saved me though mother,” Demi answered. “Vega saved me. What happened after we got separated?”

“We traveled on,” Hemi answered. “The Pridesmen grew thicker as we rode north; we had to avoid many hunting parties. We reached Evalon at the end of the month of Vina. After a few weeks of searching I realized it would be best to send our family back, this quest will take a long time. I’ve made my way in the merchant district tending to a wealthy merchant’s pet birds. Every day I came here searching for you, dreading the day I saw you in chains. What of you? When did you arrive? How did you escape the Pridesmen?”

“That is a very long story…” Demi began to say just as they arrived at the market square. She stopped when she saw a man stepping up onto the platform of the slave market. He was one of the rotten men, flies buzzing around him. She wondered what a rotten man was being sold for when one of the guards shouted.

“Get off there scum!” The guard shouted but the man ignored him. He threw off his burlap cloak to reveal his body was covered in sores and peeling off his flesh.

“Brethren!” the man shouted in such a powerful voice Demi saw dust stir. Stillness reached the crowd as all heads turned to the man. “Rise up my brethren in chains. It is time to claim what was stolen, your freedom!”

He raised his arms bound in manacles and an iron chain and tore the bindings like they were rope. Slaves shouted, and chains rattled as men charged at the guards. Demi turned to see the streets filling with slaves rattling their chains. Hemi shouted as she pulled Demi along, Vega taking flight. The crowd erupted in chaos, women screaming and people running. Hemi struck out with the stick Vega had perched on, using it to club her way through the panicked crowd.

Demi gripped her hand suddenly afraid to be separated from her mother again. They pushed their way through the crowd, moving like swimmers through a stormy sea. Someone pushed Demi from the side and she lost hold of her mother’s hand. She heard Hemi shout, but she had to think on keeping her feet or she would be trampled.

Suddenly she was out of the crowd, stumbling into an empty space before the stage. There stood the rotten man, covered in gore from several dead guards around him. He saw her and his eyes flashed with a strange shadow.

“Who are you?” he asked as his eyes narrowed. Demi couldn’t answer as she looked for a means of escape, but the crowd was still thick though fleeing. Several more slaves leapt down from the stage, all strong looking men though they were still bound with their chains. “I said who are you?” the rotten man repeated as he advanced on her.

Vega dived out of the sky like an angel of victory, clawing at the man’s eyes. He shouted angrily, not in pain, and lashed out at Vega. His fist caught the vulture and she fell to the cobblestones in a burst of feathers. Demi felt a moment of fear suffused with anger. She rushed forward and attacked the man with her fists.

He laughed and grabbed her with a grip like iron, pinning her arms to her sides and lifting her up effortlessly. Demi saw his eyes darken with a shadow and felt her body go cold. Her hands and feet went numb as the heat of her body leached out of her. The man grinned opening his mouth as if he intended to eat her. Demi shivered at the black maw that opened, all light seeming to leech away into that darkness.

Then he stopped, his eyes widening. Demi felt something in her stirring in response to this power, this hunger. Not a light or a similar power to it, something so indescribable it could not even compare.

“Divinity,” a voice that was not the man’s but came from him whispered. “You are a new deity.”

Then that darkness fled, not just from her but from the man as well. He dropped her, falling to his knees before her. Demi watched astonished as his skin suddenly healed the boils and rotten flesh healing over as if it never was. His eyes cleared and he looking up at Demi with tears in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispered and began to weep. Demi felt compelled to show him some comfort and put her hand on his head.

“What did you do?” Demi turned to see one of the slaves standing over her, his golden eyes wide. He had been a Pridesmen, a failed warrior telling by his shaven head. Demi reached out to him, she didn’t know why, and touched the manacles around his wrists. With a soft click almost like the sigh of a babe going to sleep, the manacles fell from his wrists. The once slave raised his arm, staring at his hand as if he had never seen it before.

Demi heard the rattle of chains and more slaves approached her. Hands touched her gently, not groping or pulling, but soft touches as if they feared she would break. Every hand that touched her, their manacles fell away. Demi didn’t feel any overwhelming power in her doing this, they just touched her, and the locks were free. She didn’t understand what was happening but thought it best to just let it happen.

And then she remembered her mother and Vega. She pushed her way through the crowd and they parted easily from her. She moved to where Vega fell and found the vulture laying on the stones. Her heart in her throat Demi knelt next to the vulture and felt her chest. She felt the soft flutter of her heart and the slight movement of her chest, she lived.

Nearly weeping Demi took off her sash and wrapped it around Vega, lifting her up into her arms. The palm nut vulture was a large bird, her wingspan was nearly as long as Demi was tall and lifting her was no small feat. All the time the slaves did not cease in their soft touches to Demi’s head and back, but she found she could ignore them. She turned then to look for her mother, but the press of slaves around her was too great.

Demi thought then of the platform and knew if she was to spot her mother it would be from there. She hurried through the crowd and they parted to let her pass, Demi feeling them follow after her, their hands tugging at her kaftan like the wind. She got to the platform and climbed the stairs; no one followed her from there. She hurried up to the platform and looked out over the crowd and balked.

The square was full of slaves, many shaking their chains and looking up at her imploringly. She put Vega down gently and stood before them on the stage. They were shouting, chanting and Demi stared in shock.

“Chain Breaker! Chain Breaker! Chain Breaker!”

Chain Breaker, Tí Re Laricar, the man that had set free over a thousand slaves and led them to paradise in the desert; they were calling her Chain Breaker. Demi looked out over the crowd seeing nothing but slaves. If her mother was still in the square Demi couldn’t see her. Movement and shouts at the far end of the square drew her eye and she looked out to the street that led to one of the gates.

A line of soldiers was marching down the street, a captain at the head telling by his bronze helm with a white plume. They would be there in moments and the blood shed would begin. They wouldn’t kill many but they would kill enough to get the crowd in line.

“Beware!” Demi shouted, sure that no one would hear her over the chanting. But the moment she spoke the crowd fell silent, Demi feeling all eyes on her. “Beware,” she said again, putting effort in controlling her voice so it was strong and did not waver. “The soldiers are coming, you must flee.”

“Chain Breaker! Lead us to freedom!” Someone in the crowd shouted. Demi could see women in the crowd now, even some children on the strong shoulders of men. She felt tears well up, fear and compassion for these people.

“The greatest freedom is in life itself!” Demi shouted. “They can never take that from you!”

Then the guards arrived in the square. The captain shouted orders, Demi too far to hear them exactly, and the guards moved out into formation. The crowd shrank back, women crying out and Demi saw the guards draw their sabers.

Someone grabbed her from behind, lifting her from the back of her kaftan. Demi cried out as they held her out over the crowd, and she heard them collectively gasp and moan.

“Deceiver!” the man that held Demi shouted. She turned her head to see he was another rotten man, his eyes mad and empty. “Brethren do not let this liar lead you from your freedom. Take up the chains that shackle you and stand against those who steal your liberty!”

He shook Demi, and she reached up instinctively and grabbed his wrist to hang on. She felt that strange sensation again when she touched his skin and she felt his grip go lax. A woman screamed but Demi managed to grab onto the edge of the stage before she fell. She pulled herself up onto the stage shakily and looked at the man that had held her.

He was staring at her wide eyed, his skin healing of the leprous flesh that afflicted him. Demi looked back at the crowd, seeing them staring up in awe. The guards and their captain were staring as well, mouths hanging open. Demi stood again and raised her hands to hold their attention.

“I call for peace, do not throw your lives away!” Demi called out.

A chain fell with a rattle, and soon thousands joined it. The slaves fell to their knees before her, weeping and crying out. Demi felt glad no blood was spilled, but at the same time she felt a sour taste in her mouth. She felt like she had lied to them; that she had captured them in their prison just as the Pridesmen and other slave traders had done.

“Thank you,” the man said, and Demi looked at him. He was on his knees before her, his forehead on the ground in the lowest groveling pose.

“Please get up,” Demi said heartbroken.

“You freed me, you saved my soul,” the man said but Demi wasn’t sure she had done that at all. A shouted order drew her attention back to the crowd and she saw the guards were moving through the crowd now. Some were going about gathering the slaves again, their sabers sheathed as they tried to guide the weeping people away. They seemed almost shocked as well, glancing over at Demi, but she could not read their expressions from the distance.

The captain however was marching over with five other guards, the crowd parting to let him past. He covered the distance quickly and as Demi turned to gather Vega in her arms again he was already mounting the steps. He marched up on stage and Demi got a good look at him now.

He wore sandals and a cotton kaftan under a coat of bronze mail. Over the mail he wore a breastplate of polished bronze, Sol’s sun emblazoned in the metal. His helm was round and embossed with intricate details, a white plumed feather from an ostrich toping it. He was a handsome man, a Lonemen without henna or marking. His skin was dark like Demi’s but his eyes were blue, telling of foreigner blood in his line.

He marched up to Demi and loomed over her, his cold blue eyes looking down at her seeming to glow from the shadow of his helm. Then he turned away to look at the man that had attacked her, he still knelt prostrate.

“Chain him,” the captain ordered his men and they took the slave and chained him. “Who are you?” He asked the man who let the guards manacle him without complaint.

“Zackary,” the man answered.

“And are you a member of the Legion of Creed?” the captain asked.

“I was,” Zackary answered and looked up at Demi. “Until I was freed.”

The captain looked at Demi frowning and then back at the guards that held Zackary.

“Take him to the temple of Sol, his fire will find the truth from this man,” the captain ordered and the guards nodded as they dragged the man away. Demi held Vega tighter as the captain turned back to her. “Who are you?”

“Demi rah Kartal,” Demi answered in a small voice.

“Are you with the Legion?” the captain asked and she quickly shook her head. “How did you heal that man?”

“I don’t know,” Demi answered. “Please I need to find my mother; she was here when the riots started.”

The captains frown grew deeper and Demi feared he would order her taken to the temple of Sol. He reached out and she flinched away from his hand as he grasped her by the chin and made her look at him. He stared at her and Demi felt her cheeks begin to flush under his regard. At last he let her go, shaking his head.

“I am no holy man,” he muttered. “I am taking you to Euria’s temple.”

“Why?” Demi asked astonished. Euria was the most holy of the gods to the Xinians, they favored the goddess of rain over all the other gods. Her temple was just near the palace where she needed to go. But Demi needed to find her mother first; she could have been hurt from the riots.

“You just performed a miracle before a thousand witnesses,” the captain answered; “Healing a man of leprosy in an instant. Only the Grand Sect can determine if you really are a miracle worker.”

Demi was speechless, staring at him in awe. She hadn’t thought what she had done was a miracle, she wasn’t even sure she had done anything. Yet she knew she could not escape, if she tried this man would put her in chains. At least he wasn’t taking her to Sol’s Temple, where she was sure torture would be used to get the truth from her. Since she herself did not know the truth she hoped the Grand Sect would be able to see answers she could not.

“What is your name?” Demi asked not sure why she did.

“Captain Makar,” he answered. “Captain of the Fifth Battalion.”

Demi shivered, there were twelve battalions that guarded the city; the fifth oversaw the slave district. As a captain Makar commanded a hundred men of the eight hundred that made up the entire battalion. He was only answerable to the General of the Fifth Battalion; Makar was a man of standing then.

“I will personally see to your safety,” Makar said, and Demi looked up at him a little surprised to see he was earnest.

“Very well,” Demi said as she bowed her head to him. “I’m in your care.”

He motioned for her to go first and followed her, Demi feeling his shadow loom over her. Holding Vega close to her chest she walked on to another journey.