#like just to warn me and link to a dragon to brace myself for instead of posting the image directly djsklfj

[mem-fr]

today's pinfeather pixel update is : i've learned the hard way that polkadot makes me borderline physically ill to look at so here's a tide / foam wildclaw instead .

[draconivn]

SLBP. 02 | Merciless Sin

Summary: Just because Lord Masamune is merciful on the battlefield, doesn’t always mean he’s merciful after coming home from a campaign. Part of the One-Eyed Dragon of Oshu birthday series. Pairing: SLBP Masamune x Reader Warnings: Smut, fingering, NSFW Masterpost: LINK

Masamune was always good to me. He was always welcoming of me, just as I am with him. When we had something to tell one another, it took us time before we finally said it and it would solidify our bond as husband and wife. When we needed each other, we supported each other.

"A-Ah... Masamune…"

Though as the man and leader of the House, he always took on more work to be the one everyone could depend on. He once had a cruel side when it came to war, merciless, that everyone was downtrodden even with victory on their shoulders when they returned. He no longer carries that cruel side to the battlefield with him, but instead…

"Please…"

He carries that cruel, merciless side with him to our bed.

Somehow he learned how much pleasure he drowned me in when I was writhing at his touch, overstimulated when he got rough before I would tell him to slow down. But when I peered up into those beautiful heterochromatic eyes of his this evening as I laid bare before him on the bedclothes, there was a hunger in his gaze, a need that burned like fire before the fingers that were nestled inside my walls started to move with a rough pace. He stroked and always nearly missed that spot inside me, his forehead pressed to mine as I gripped his shoulders and squirmed below him. 

"M-Masamune!" I gasped out, a cry interrupting the call of his name. My words left me the moment his head pulled away so he could ravage my breasts with his hot mouth, biting at my skin. The tugs of my nipples between his teeth were eager, capturing them between his lips to suck and his arm wrapped around me to keep me secured to his mouth. I bucked my hips, my nails scraping at his skin and my head tipped back to cry out even louder.

His fingers never stopped, crooking them and moving faster against my walls to make me tremble and squirm no matter how much I begged him. His mouth was ruthless in ravaging my breasts until my skin was marred a deep red as a sign that he had made his claim upon me. 

That no man could ever do to me what he had done.

No man would be so cruel enough to stop all motion and come up to kiss me so tenderly as he did right then and there, letting me rest on the bed as my chest heaved for air. 

I couldn’t stop whimpering against his lips, my nails releasing their grip to squeeze his shoulders before his fingers unfurled with me, slowly stroking and rubbing my walls in a motion that had my head tipping back and eyes shutting in pleasure. “O-Oh–” My voice came out so high in pitch, strangled, in a tone that I hardly recognized myself ever uttering. My hands fell away from his shoulders to fall to either side of my head, my vision a complete blur in my euphoria as he played with my pleasure. “A-Ah–” Not even the moan that fell from my lips sounded like me, trembling in different pitches as he started to pick up his pace of stroking me. I was limp and helpless, my hips lifting to meet his palm but he pinned my hip down to keep me from moving. 

Something was forming in the pit of my stomach, taking me higher and higher to that familiar peak that I rarely reached with this kind of touching before. My chest arched up from the bed until a wave of pleasure crashed over me with a strangled cry, half-mixed with his name and incoherence. I was trembling from head to toe, my toes curling as I kicked against the sheets and squirmed to try to grip onto this rush of pleasure.

But my pleasure only grew when a sudden movement took me by surprise, taking me whole and leaving me to clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle my scream. 

Above me came a groan from Lord Masamune’s lips, his hands gripping my hips and bracing himself to withstand the sudden pressure. In the moment that he made me reach my climax, he had pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his cock to fill me whole, my walls being stretched and shaped to his length as my orgasm had lubricated his way with ease.

I could hardly focus on anything, like the room was spinning and the only thing that was steady was my lord and lover on top of me, inside me as he leaned down to kiss me gently. 

My arms wrapped around him, a sense of calm as he held me like this to soothe me. My throat almost felt sore from screaming as much as I did just then, though I could feel the curve of his lips against mine telling me that it wasn’t the only screaming I’d be doing today.

“Can you handle me just a bit longer?” he asks softly.

His tone is so gentle with me, always making sure he’s careful and isn’t going to break me. Time and time again, I’ve convinced him that I won’t. It’s made him a different kind of lover in our bed, and he spares no mercy to me until I say it.

I nod gently, whimpering against his lips.

Slowly, I can feel him drawing his hips back, my legs spreading a bit more to cradle him in between, my walls clenching to try to pull him back. 

He tortures me by leaving only the head inside, hovering and letting me whine against his lips. It’s with a slam that he takes me completely, taking me apart and putting me back together that I can’t contain my screams any longer for the rest of the night.

Even his mercy has its limits.

[mrslittletall]

Title: A Storm is coming (Chapter 8) Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Chosen Undead/Dragon Slayer Ornstein Word Count: 3.344 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16603610/chapters/44733007 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/184714873284/title-a-storm-is-coming-chapter-7-fandom-dark

Summary: Ornstein gives Tempest a bath. The training begins. Tempest questions the cooking skills of the dragon slayer.

(Author's note: Oh boy, time for some fluff ^^ I want to get them into friends and lovers eventually, so we have to start somewhere, no?)

“Train me?”, Tempest stood up, still trying to process what his ears had just heard.

“I have spoken clearly the first time. You definitely need to be shaped into a warrior.”, Ornstein surveyed Tempest and added in a snarky tone: “I would like to shape you into a knight, but I feel that is beyond hope.”

“So, um, what do you want me to do?”, Tempest asked.

“First, it is time to get this armour off you.”, Ornstein came nearer and started undressing Tempest, who lowly squeaked in protest. Once every piece of armour had been clattered to the ground, Ornstein, who had grabbed Tempest wrist into his own gauntlet, stared at him aghast.

“Right, I forgot that this happens to you when you die. Please reverse this.”, he said, averting his gaze.

“Um, fine.”, Tempest left briefly to reverse his hollowing at the nearby bonfire, the firekeeper staring at him, after all, he only was clothed with a loin cloth now, before returning to Ornstein, starting to freeze a bit, being underdressed like this. While a lot of his senses turned off because he was undead, his blood still was flowing, hollowed out or not and naturally his body tried to stay warm.

When Tempest returned to Ornstein, the dragon slayer stared at him. “By the lord, I thought you had the decency to get properly dressed, why are you running around half naked?!”

“Um...”, Tempest started. He wasn't even sure why he hadn't put any clothes on. He had worn this armour for so long that it didn't even occur to him. “I thought it was part of the training.”, he finally brought out. Ornstein however, still stared at him.

“Ugh, I thought it was your hollowed out form that was reeking so much, but apparently your last bath has been ages ago. Look at all this dirt.”, he scolded while gesturing with both hands to Tempest body, which certainly was covered in quite a bit dirt. “I certainly won't train you, when you stink up the air like that. It is time for you to take a bath.”

Before Tempest could protest, the dragon slayer had picked him up with one hand and just slumped him over his shoulder, heading for the cathedral. While being carried like this, Tempest noticed that Ornstein seemed to limp a tiny little bit. Guilt washed over Tempest. Ornstein probably had gotten injured when he had been searching for him in the archives.

Once Ornstein had entered the cathedral, he headed straight for the part that Tempest didn't even had noticed when first having entered the marvelous building. At least this time he didn't had to be afraid of any silver knights. Tempest admired a bit how Ornstein was able to find his way in this big cathedral so easily when he remembered how often the dragon slayer had took wrong turns in the archives. Well, Ornstein had lived here for a millenia, of course he would know his way around here.

In front of a particular room, Ornstein finally put Tempest down.

“Wait here.”, he said and then undid his armour. Wait wait wait... did Ornstein intend to go into the bath with him? Tempest assumption only seemed to verify when the dragon slayer also attempted to undo the shirt he wore and neatly folded and laid it into a shelf near the door to the room. Tempest already braced himself for the dragon slayer to let fall his trousers, but he simply picked Tempest back again, entered the room and the next thing Tempest knew was that he had been thrown into hot water.

He emerged from the water, coughing and spitting it out where it had entered his lungs. Looking down at him, Tempest realized that he didn't wore his loin cloth anymore. Staring at the side of the big pool, where Ornstein stood, he could see that the dragon slayer casually threw it on the ground.

“That was a bit far.”, Ornstein called over to him. “Come back.”

Shrugging, Tempest came back to the side where Ornstein was kneeling. He actually had to swim there, the water felt quite deep for him. He figured, it was because the bath had been made for the likes of Ornstein, who naturally were a lot taller than humans. As soon as he was at Ornstein's side, he asked: “So, to actually clean myself, I need a washing cloth and soap.”, Tempest said. The dragon slayer didn't say anything. Instead, Ornstein himself drew out the desired items and started to rub Tempest himself.

“Look at this dirt. Just how long has it been since you cleaned yourself?”, Ornstein asked with a wrinkled nose.

“I don't think I had any bath since I left the Undead Asylum.”, Tempest answered truthfully.

“Gross. You have been to Blighttown!”, Ornstein practically shouted the last word while continuing to scrub the dirt away from him. Tempest in fact noticed a few cuts, bruises and what seemed to be freshly clotted bleeds on the dragon slayer's bare chest along a myriad of old scars, mostly burns. His chest tightened when he laid his eyes on a particular big scar across his chest, the one that had struck the dragon slayer down. Ornstein suddenly stopped scrubbing and said: “Stop staring.”

Tempest quickly avoided his gaze and being completely at the mercy of the dragon slayer, didn't dare to say another word, until Ornstein handed a fresh washing cloth to him. “Do your private parts yourself.”, he said and sat down, closely watching Tempest.

Tempest accepted the washing cloth but before he actually started to clean himself, he asked: “Um, do you intent to watch me doing this?”

“Oh, sorry, I used to give the little ones bathes and when I kept my gaze off them they would just escape. I just can't get rid of this habit.”, Ornstein said and turned around to give Tempest some privacy. Tempest had no clue about who Ornstein even had talked. Did he had kids once? Little siblings? Or was he referring to pets like a dog? Once Tempest was done, he exclaimed it loudly and asked if he was allowed to leave the pool now.

“Look at all this dirt.”, Ornstein gestured to the part of the pool that had practically blackened by all the dirt before giving Tempest a towel. “I am going to find a few clothes for you, just don't wander away.” With that words the dragon slayer left and Tempest was left alone to dry his body off.

Tempest just had finished rubbing his hair dry when the dragon slayer returned and tossed a few black leather clothes in front of him. “Unfortunately, Ciaran's clothes are the only ones that may fit you.”, he said. Tempest picked the clothes up. Nothing too bad, just some simple pants and a vest. No underwear though. Well, Tempest would hopefully be able to wash his loincloth later. It still laid on the side of the pool.

After slipping into the clothes, it became apparent that they had been made for a female body, but they fit Tempest well enough. He felt both lighter and a lot more unprotected without the elite knight armour. After Tempest was dressed, Ornstein, who had put on his armour (and hopefully his shirt) back again in the meantime, nodded in satisfaction and ordered him to follow. They ended up at the large area near the bonfire.

“Pull out your weapon and show it to me.”, Ornstein ordered and Tempest did so, pulling the Katana out and presented it to the dragon slayer. He took it and eyed it thoroughly.

“A weapon from the east. Has a nice edge to it, very sharp blade, makes foes bleed quickly. However, breaks easily. How did you even come into the possession of such a weapon? They aren't exactly common here.”

That actually was a rather funny story. In the Undead Burg, Tempest had found a merchant but unfortunately had lacked any souls to actually buy anything from him at the moment, so he politely declined his wares, which only prompted the merchant to say out aloud, that he should fall off a cliff. Annoyed by such a mean thing, Tempest had shoved the merchant and accidentally scratched him with the tip of his sword, which the merchant had took as cue to attack him with this particular katana. But before he could do anything, the merchant had lost balance and fell down the burg. Tempest had picked up the katana later at the place where he had died. The merchant never appeared again. He either moved on or had become hollow.

Tempest opened his mouth and said “Well.”, intending to tell this story, when the dragon slayer already interrupted him. “Show me which other weapons you have.”

Tempest closed his mouth and went for the bottomless box at the bonfire, returning with every weapon he had picked up so far. It weren't too much. A combination of swords, a mace, an axe, some spears. Tempest actually expected that Ornstein picked up one of the spears, but instead, he went for a straight sword.

“Straight swords are a good weapon to start with.”, Ornstein explained. “You can use a very versatile movement with them and they are quite sturdy.” Ornstein swung the sword around a bit, did a thrust attack, a slash, a slice and series of quick slashes in demonstration. Tempest only stared at awe. This knight in front of him really knew what he was doing. He felt like he had always just blindly swung his weapon around.

“However.”, Ornstein continued, “The best sword won't do anything when its bearer can't wield it correct. Here.”, he tossed the sword to Tempest. “I need to know how well you handle yourself in a duel so that I have a base to start.” Ornstein picked up another sword for himself, leaning his dragon slayer spear against a wall.

“What, I shall duel you?”, Tempest asked aghast.

“You already won against me, remember?”, the dragon slayer replied. “Now prepare yourself.”

That was the only warning Tempest got before Ornstein lunged at him and struck him with his own sword. Tempest winced in pain and rolled away, a method that had been rather effective for dodging the strikes of his mostly far larger foes.

Ornstein turned around and swung his sword at him, Tempest quickly threw his own in the air, trying to block the blow, but got quickly overwhelmed by the quick follow up strikes that the dragon slayer pressured onto him. After what felt like less a minute, he laid on the ground, the sword tip on his throat and Ornstein simply said: “Dead.”

Tempest was grateful when the dragon slayer removed the sword tip from his throat, casually leaning it over his shoulder, when Tempest crawled back up. Was this really the same guy he had fought in the cathedral? It felt like the Ornstein the cathedral had either been weakened or had been going easy on him. No, Tempest didn't think he did go easy on him. Sometimes he had been killed in two strikes. But when Ornstein had put this pressure on him when with the executioner, Tempest wouldn't have stand the slightest chance.

“Everything is off about your stance.”, Ornstein said, coming closer to Tempest. “You need to correct it.” The dragon slayer forcefully touched Tempest arms, legs and waist and bent him into a what felt like a very awkward stance for Tempest.

“Hold this for 30 minutes, then we can continue.”, Ornstein said, leaning against the wall next to his spear.

While Tempest tried to hold the pose Ornstein had forced him into, he had some time to observe the dragon slayer. After a short while, Ornstein put the sword down he had used to duel with and instead picked up his spear again, just staring blankly at nothing. Or at least his lion helmet made it look like this. Tempest didn't like this awkward silence and decided to try for some smalltalk.

“I didn't knew you were so good with a sword. I thought the spear was your favoured weapon.”

“The spear is my favoured weapon, but I have trained the silver knights for a millennia to use swords. Of course I know how to wield a sword.”

“So when you favour spears, why do you want to train me with a sword?”

“Better basics. Easier to teach. Spears are more specialized. By the way, your stance is crumbling.”

That was true, Tempest wasn't able to hold it any longer and pretty much stumbled on the ground.

“Ouch, my entire body feels like hurting.”, he complained.

Ornstein sighed beneath him. “That could take some time...”

And so they continued the session, Ornstein occasionally coming over to Tempest to forcefully correct his stance (Tempest swore he could hear his bones creak). This procedure continued until it was night all of a sudden. Tempest hadn't even noticed that the sun had gone down. Instead, it was like someone had pulled a switch and made the day into the night. “That was sudden...”, Tempest mentioned.

“Gwyndolin has gone to sleep, then we should call it a day too.” Ornstein said and started to get into motion, walking towards the cathedral. Tempest followed him.

“So, uh, why was it dark all of a sudden? What has it to do with the dark sun going to sleep?”, Tempest asked Ornstein.

“Hmm.. I thought you already had found this out.”, Ornstein said. “Didn't you notice something strange about the sun while we were out there?”

“The night came far too sudden, I didn't even saw the sun move.”, Tempest said and it hit him like a brick. “The sun didn't move! Not a single time until I have arrived here. It must have been several days! Why didn't I ask myself why it was never night until now?”

“So you figured that this town is covered in an eternal dusk. It always was the time when Anor Londo looked most beautiful.”

“So it's an illusion?”, Tempest asked, having to make an effort to keep up with Ornstein's long steps. Tempest looked in the sky to see a risen full moon. “A full moon, a dark sun...”, he whispered to himself. He glanced at Ornstein but the dragon slayer apparently was done talking with him.

Back at the cathedral, Ornstein assigned a room to Tempest. It clearly once had been used as a guest room, aside from a bed, a cupboard and a table with chairs nothing was in it. Tempest didn't need to sleep, but lying down on a bed would be more comfortable when he had to wait for the night to pass.

Besides showing Tempest the room, Ornstein hadn't give him any further instructions. While Tempest's bones and muscles did hurt, a quick sip of Estus eased the pain and he didn't feel like lying on the bed for several hours, so Tempest decided to explore the cathedral on his own. He was just walking through the hallways, when he smelled a horrible stench, like someone burned something up really bad. Apparently, having a bath made him sensitive to scents again, after Blighttown he had pretty much given up on using his nose ever again. It hadn't occurred to him that his own stench had been at fault for this.

Tempest followed the stench to find an open door. Silently, he peaked in and saw Ornstein sitting at the table of a room that very much looked like a kitchen, reluctantly staring at whatever it was that he had cooked up. Seeing the kitchen, it itched in Tempest's hand. It had been so long, far too long. But the sight of the dragon slayer at the table, trying to eat an awful meal, made him reluctant to go in. He didn't know if Ornstein simply was a terrible chef or if this was some form of self punishment, so the small Undead decided to move on.

The next day they continued their training. This time Tempest managed to hold the stance the desired time, so that Ornstein was satisfied with moving on to the next step. Which consisted in drillling every possible way a sword could be swung into Tempest's head. And the dragon slayer was a strict one, Tempest couldn't count how many times he had to repeat a certain strike until Ornstein was finally satisfied. Like the day before, they only stopped after the day had switched to the night.

This evening Tempest peaked into the kitchen again, seeing Ornstein eating a dish that made his nose turn up. This continued for several days until Tempest was sure about one thing.

This wasn't some kind of self-punishment, Ornstein simply was a terrible cook and his growing reluctance to eat day after day surely showed that he didn't enjoy his meals. In Tempest a plan took shape.

The small Undead had snuck into the kitchen before the dragon slayer would get up and rummaged around in the supplies. To his surprise, he saw that there were plenty. There were so much ingredients, he never had seen so many at home. Tempest gathered everything he needed and got ready to prepare them, cutting up vegetables and meat, getting spices ready that were neatly stacked on a rack. He quickly put the one labeled with bone dust away though, putting it far behind the others, so that he never would accidentally grab it.

Tempest fired up the oven with his pyromancy and intended to put a pot on it, but he was too small to actually reach it. Looking around, Tempest spooted a footstool in the corner and put it in front of the oven, stepping on it, getting the pot ready and starting to cook the stew with the prepared ingredients. Even though Tempest himself didn't taste a lot anymore, his sense of smell was still excellent and so he should be able to dish out something nice. At least it would taste better than whatever it was that Ornstein had been cooking. Soon, the kitchen was filled with a nice smell. After the stew was done, Tempest covered the pot with a lid to keep it warm and waited.

Soon enough, the dragon slayer entered the kitchen, hair neatly tied back into a ponytail, but not in his iconic armour yet, instead, in that simple linen clothes he usually wore underneath. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Tempest leaning against the wall. “What the...?”

“Surprise.”, Tempest blurted out, removing the lid of the stew and filling up a plate with it. “You have never asked me, but I am quite a decent chef. I thought I should thank you for training me with a little meal.”

The brows of the dragon slayer furrowed, but then his gaze softened. Tempest put the plate on the table, placed a spoon in it and retreated to the wall again. Ornstein came over to take a look. He sat down, stared into the stew for a few minutes and then put the spoon up to have a taste of it. Tempest vibrated with excitement.

“That tastes... nice.”, Ornstein said. “Not as good at Smough's, but... it's warm.”

Tempest was satisfied. That felt like the most of a compliment he could get out of the dragon slayer's mouth.

“I am going to the training grounds and wait there for you.”, Tempest said, standing up from leaning against the wall and approaching the kitchen door. When he was almost through it, he heard the dragon slayer say: “Wait...”

Tempest turned around. “Yes?”

“Would you cook again..? Not.. not because I like it very much or so, but... it is still better than mine, so...”

A big grin flashed over Tempest's face. “Of course.”, he said.

(Author's note: Time for Tsundere Ornstein. Also, I want to thank Sekiro for teaching me how sword fights are looking like! Thank you, Sekiro!) Next chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/185270390139/title-a-storm-is-coming-chapter-9-fandom-dark

[crystallized-shadow]

Chapter: 1/? Rating: M Pairing: Madara/Tobirama Word Count: 1589 Warnings: Canon-typical violence   

Summary: Forced to become a jinchuriki against his will, Madara is the only one keeping Konoha safe from certain destruction. But can anyone save him?

Follow the link or read it under the cut

“Quickly! He’s waking up!”

Madara struggles to push the fog out of his brain, wondering why he didn’t recognize the voice that had just shouted. The last thing he remembered was the mission, but then something had went wrong...an ambush! He was ambushed! The throbbing in his neck reminds him of the pinprick of a sebon right before he’d lost consciousness. Poison then, Madara thinks with a frown, that could be problematic in his escape.

“Get him in the array!” A gruff voice shouts and Madara is being dragged into the middle of a giant seal array. He attempts to struggle as his shirt is ripped open, but the poison makes his struggles about as effective as a kitten batting at a feather. The Uchiha is powerless to stop the bastards from inking more seals onto his torso.

“Thank you in advance for wiping out that pesky village of yours,” the leader says, laughing at the glare Madara sends his way. The group push their chakra into the seal array and everything glows brightly.

Madara grunts in pain as the seals on him burn and shift to center around his naval. Just as they settle the burning increases a hundredfold as waves of rage, hatred, bloodlust, and the desire to destroy wash over him. Madara screams as he struggles to stay afloat in the raging inferno of negative emotions, his Mangekyo Sharingan spinning to life to fight off the unseen foe. Ever single nerve cries out in agony, but just when Madara is sure he’s going to combust from the inside out, the dark inferno is gone and he’s left panting, unsure to how function for a moment.

“It worked!” The joyous exclamations of his captors has that rage sparking back to life, and with barely a thought, the bastards are burning thanks to his Amaterasu. Even when nothing but ash remains and he’s vanquished the flames, Madara just lays there, everything hurting.

Home rings through Madara’s head and in his exhausted haze he swears it wasn’t his own voice. Even with the insistent urge to return to his village, it takes an agonizingly long time for Madara to force any of his limbs to move. The effort to get his feet under him leaves the Uchiha panting and hunched over, so he uses that moment to memorize the seals, just knowing it will be important when he can think clearly. A simple Katon destroys the array and then Madara is straightening his shirt and stumbling back to Konoha. Home, he needed to go home, but why? Why was it so important he make it back to the village?

The closer Madara gets to the village the stronger the urge to destroy everything and everyone gets. That terrifying thought has Madara vearing sharply to the right, he needed to get away before he did something he’d regret. He doesn’t make it very far before Tobirama is suddenly before him.

Kill him! He almost killed your brother, destroy him!

“Get away from me!” Madara snaps, clutching at his hair as the voice growls in his head. Now he knew it couldn’t be his own thoughts, he hadn’t want to hurt Tobirama since the two had fallen into bed together for the first time.

“Madara?” Tobirama mutters, one eyebrow raised as he really looks at the Uchiha. “Are you okay? You were running late and when I sensed you running from the village, I knew something must be wrong.”

“Go away Tobirama!” Madara growls, the sound the most feral one he’s ever made and that scares him more than nearly losing Izuna. What is happening to him?

“I’m not leaving you,” Tobirama states with a frown, realizing something is very wrong with the Uchiha, “Anija will be here soon too.”

“No!!” Madara’s grip on his hair tightens as he stumbles back a step, “stay away from me!”

Tobirama’s frown deepens as he takes a step forward, only to stop when Madara’s panicked eyes meet his. “Madara…”

“Please!” Madara begs, his tone wavering in a way it hasn’t since he helped bury his last brother, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Stunned by the other’s words, Tobirama almost doesn’t act when Madara bolts in the opposite direction. Reaching for his closest marker in front of Madara, Tobirama appears before the Uchiha, wrapping his arms around the terrified man as he collides with him. “Let me help you Madara,” Tobirama mutters, refusing to let the other leave.

Against his will Madara relaxes in Tobirama’s hold and that proves to be his downfall as the bloodlust and rage and hate overwhelm him in that second. With a smirk, Madara sinks elongated fangs into Tobirama’s unprotected throat, tearing a chunk of flesh away when the Senju jumps back.

“You should have listened.”

“What has gotten into you!?” Tobirama snaps, narrowing his eyes as he places a hand over the wound, stopping the bleeding with his limited medical ninjutsu, “I’m trying to help you and you fucking bite me!?”

“I’ll go for your jugular next time,” the voice that comes from Madara isn’t his own but he can’t do anything to stop himself as he spits the flesh to the ground, grinning viciously at Tobirama. In a burst of speed, Madara is before Tobirama again, claws swiping at his face.

Tobirama narrowly avoids the attack, spotting a flash of red as he gets some distance between them. His eyes are drawn to his own blood staining Madara’s lips before he glances up into red eyes. Tobirama’s first instinct to break eye contact least the Sharingan get him, it’s only the lack of spinning tomoe that stops him in his tracks. Madara’s eyes are red with a slitted pupil and his voice has new touch of evil the Uchiha had never managed before. “Madara,” Tobirama begins cautiously, still watching for another attack, “was something sealed in you?”

“You’re clever,” Madara chuckles, the dark sound grating on his nerves like nails across a chalkboard, “now you really do have to die.”

Tobirama can sense Hashirama getting closer so he just has to hold Madara off until then. Dodging another swipe of claws, Tobirama flashes through a set of hand signs. “Suiton: Water Dragon Jutsu!”

Madara easily avoids the giant water dragon, landing on a tree branch, crouched lower than normal. “You’re stronger than I was expecting,” Madara admits, but instead of feeling pride at the compliment, Tobirama feels dread settle in the pit of his stomach. “Time to get serious.” A pained snarl is forced through Madara’s clenched teeth as bubbling red chakra spreads over his body. The chakra cloak forms the outline of fox-like ears on top of Madara’s head, claws over his hands and feet, and a long fox-like tail forms behind him.

“Fuck,” Tobirama mutters, his knees quivering ever so slightly under the sudden onslaught of demonic chakra. He didn’t know how he hadn’t sensed it before, but now it was obvious Madara had a demon sealed in him. Tobirama sends another water dragon at Madara, steam obsurring both men’s view as the chakra tail burns through the water. Tobirama is briefly reminded of the battle that had almost taken Izuna’s life before claws are ripping through his side. “Bastard!” Tobirama growls, jumping away from the demon-controlled shinobi, just missing the chakra tail by a hair.

“Feisty little rat,” Madara chuckles, licking the blood off his fingers, “don’t die too quickly, I want to enjoy myself.” The demonic Uchiha makes a single hand sign before he suddenly exhales a large stream of fire, setting everything on fire.

“Fucking pyromaniac,” Tobirama grumbles, a quick Water Wall not only saving him but dousing the flames. Unfortunately the steam that is created just serves to put him at a disadvantage as the demon’s chakra is so chaotic and all consuming that Tobirama can’t pinpoint its exact location. Drawing a kunai, bracing himself for another attack, the Senju finds himself praying his Madara is still in there somewhere. Seconds later Madara is before him, claws clashing with the kunai. “Suiton: Severing Wave!” Tobirama shoots a high pressured jet of water at Madara, sending the possessed man sailing through several trees.

“That almost hurt,” Madara chuckles as he saunters back into the clearing, his shirt having been destroyed during his flight, and Tobirama’s eyes are instantly drawn to the seal on his stomach. He can’t help but wince at the shoddy work, that didn’t bode well for Madara. “Let’s see how much you can handle.”

A second tail forms behind Madara and Tobirama nearly chokes as the oppressive chakra doubles in force and darkness. This wasn’t looking good for him, not with his side still gushing blood. Madara is suddenly before him, a fist colliding with his stomach and sending him crashing into a tree. Before Tobirama even has his feet under him, a hasty hand sign has him flashing to a marker closest to Hashirama. Shakily getting to his feet, the Senju runs in the direction of his brother. As much as it wounded his pride to admit it, even in his head, Tobirama knew he was no match for Madara.

Tobirama pushes his battered body to move faster, he can sense the demonic chakra headed his way. A little more, he thinks, Hashirama is so close! Just before Tobirama gets close enough to get his brother’s attention, he suddenly finds himself facedown on the ground, grunting on impact. “Caught you!” The dark voice growls in his ear and then Tobirama screams as his world explodes in pain.

[oliviaelle98]

“A Dragon's Guide to the Many Uses of Ovens”: A Short Story About a Baby Dragon

I stumbled into the road, fangs aching from how tight I clenched my jaw. The exhaustion of the day’s journey had, it seemed, caught up to me at last. Heat flared across my back and wings as my Illusion Charm began to burn away and fall, like ashes, to the ground. Between one moment and the next, my Magick disappeared. I was completely visible.

Turning my head side to side revealed a copse of trees on the far side of the road. I could hide there till my Magick returned, though I wouldn’t make it ho—

An animal screamed on my right, but when I twisted to see what had happened, lights filled my vision. Behind it, I could just make out the dark shadow of a four-wheeled, metallic beast at least a dozen times my size, barreling down on me while a human gaped at me from inside and I realized there was no escape. Then it met me head on.

If I had the soft skin of a typical animal, I would be dead. Instead, my scales saved me. The beast—a human mount—scraped off of them with a screech even while some of my ribs caved inward, cracking and painful, and I skidded along the ground on my side for several feet, wings flared and out of harm’s way. Someone cried out from inside the beast, and the next thing I knew, a human cradled my head in its lap.

There was an overwhelming mix of scents coming off of it, sticking in my nose, masking everything else and burning me with their stench, to the point I couldn’t even hope to identify its feelings. It rambled, though, in some human language I couldn’t understand, and one hand tugged continuously on a strand of hair even while the other pat nervously at my head.

It was likely trying to soothe me, I decided, but I couldn’t let my guard down. I had broken the number one Dragon Law by letting myself be seen. I couldn’t continue to break the Law by remaining there—and I definitely couldn’t let the human continue to coddle me.

Shaking away the hand and struggling to my feet, I braced my body against the mount and stared at the forest. Apparently, I was old enough to venture out on my own, but my Magick wasn’t powerful enough for a daylong journey yet.

Traveling now would be difficult with both broken ribs and no Magick, which was... more than unfortunate. My mother had let me out of the nest on the condition I returned within forty-eight hours. If I didn’t, I didn’t want to think what she would do to the poor human who had injured me.

I took a deep breath, fought back the pain in my ribs, and put all my weight on my feet. But after only a few steps, something clicked behind me, and the human made another noise.

Twisting my neck around, I stared at it.

The human crouched next to the open door of the mount, stance open and fingers coaxing. Was it... trying to communicate? Even though humans hadn’t evolved enough to speak Dragon yet?

It repeated the noise again.

Aiken? Was it trying to say my name? What was that “geh” sound?

It paused to make clucking noises with its tongue, continued making more useless noises, and then shook its head several times, which seemed counterproductive to anything it could possibly be attempting.

Though, admittedly, it was probably more helpful than the way it reached back up to tug harshly on its hair and drag its hand down its own face. But then it shook its head again, harder this time, and looked me straight in the eyes as it gestured towards the door and made more noises.

And at the end, there it was again. More like “Gaiken” than “Aiken.” I didn’t know how it learned my name, and if I went with it and we got caught, my mother would mistake it for a dragonnapper and burn it for sure. But my side ached, and the cover of the mount was much closer than the cover of the trees. As much as I hated the idea of needing a mere human’s help...

Tossing my horns and letting out a warning growl, I stepped towards the human.

Link to the full story will be in the reblog!

[fanatic-writers]

15 Day Challenge; Day 7: Leaf Pile

A/n: This one is a bit longer than the others. Something about the prompt just had me going on a grand idea. It’s not exactly how I planned, but I think it’s better tbh. Let me know what you think of the series so far! You guys seem to love it which is excellent! -G

Pairing: Loki x Reader (eventually)

Warnings: none 

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“I thought you didn't like that scarf?” Loki asked when she walked into the living room

“You said I had to wear it next time we went out and we're going out,” she said

“What do you have in mind today?” He asked grabbing his coat

“We're going to make a leaf pile,” she replied linking her arm around his

“Isn't this a bit childish?” He asked as she formed a pile of leaves to her best ability. She had taken him to a park that was fairly close to the tower.

“It's not my fault you didn't have a childhood and have to make up for it,” she shrugged

“That makes no sense,” the god looked at her confused

“Just jump in the damn pile,” she rolled her eyes

Loki stepped cautiously into the pile of leaves, Y/n shook her head and jumped in after him. She did her best to show him the proper way to play in a leaf pile, and after a few minutes of grumping he joined in. The pile was destroyed, and despite the cold, the pair stayed and laid in what was left of it.

“That one looks like a dog,” she said pointing to one of the clouds

“You think they all look like dogs,” the god chuckled

“Well then what do you see?” she asked keeping her eyes on the sky

“A lindwyrm,” he shrugged

“A what?” she looked at him, eyes wide

“A lindwyrm,” he paused “they're like snakes but with two legs and a dragon’s head,”

“What do they do?” she asked intrigued by this new creature

“Odin always said they gnawed on the roots of Yggdrasil,” he said turning to her

“The life tree right?” she asked

He nodded “it's getting late, the others may wonder where we are,”

“One more jump?” she asked

“Is there even anything left to jump into?” He replied pulling her to her feet.

“There's enough,” she smiled as she ran into the pile and jumped. A loud yelp escaped her lips, and she stumbled trying to stand up straight. Loki rushed to her side to help her steady herself.

“You just had to jump in one more time,” He said shaking his head

“I'm fine,” she said trying to walk but wincing as she tried to walk

“No you're not,” he replied picking her up bridal style “You mortals are so fragile,”

“Put me down,” she cried

“You’re not walking,” he replied

She sighed and wrapped her arms around her neck to prevent herself from falling again.

“What did you do?” Tony asked when Loki walked into the tower

“Why do you think that I did something?” the god responded

“You're carrying a Y/n, of course, you did something,” Tony retorted

“I did it to myself,” she piped up

“Did you or did he tell you to say that?” the engineer looks at her quizzically

“For Christ’s sake if he did something to me then why would he have carried me back here instead of leaving me there or making me walk,” she replied “You can put me down now,”

“Are you sure?” He looked down at her worried “It's not that far to the medical wing,”

“I'm fine it's just a rolled ankle,” she told him

“If you're sure,” he said still not setting her down

“I'm positive,” she smiled

Slowly he lowered her to the ground and helped her stand. Tony lead them to the med bay, and Loki was Y/n’s personal crutch the entire way. No matter how much he hated to admit it she had worried him if she was hurt, even if it were just a rolled ankle, the others wouldn't trust him around her anymore. Which meant no more outings with just the two of them, no time alone with her at all most likely.

“You're going to need to stay off your foot for a while,” Bruce told her “it's just a sprain, but you have to let it heal properly.”

“See,” She said turning to Loki “not a big deal.”

“You should be back to normal in about 6 weeks. It's not too bad, so if you can I'd like you to start walking on it as soon as possible, we'll get a brace for you to help. I'd also like to start,” Bruce droned on, Loki tried to pay attention, but all he could think about was how the others would react. If he wasn't allowed near her, he didn't know what he'd do.

“Loki,” the god was pulled out of his thoughts “keep an eye on her, she'll want to do more than she can. Make sure she doesn't ok?”

Loki nodded, Bruce walked out, and the god followed.

“You want me to babysit her?” Loki asked, trying to be annoyed

“Thor told me what happened at the pumpkin patch a while back, knowing Y/n she probably would've broken something if you didn't catch her.” Bruce explained “I think you're the best to look after her. She won't listen to Tony and Steve out of spite, and I have enough on my hands let alone her. Thor and Clint would just egg her on, and Nat would try to get her to spar or something.”

“So I'm a last resort?” he asked

“No,” the doctor replied “You're the only one who she listens to, and you care about her enough to make sure she doesn't make herself worse.”

A few weeks later she was sprawled out on the couch.

“You're sure we can't go out yet?” she groaned

“You're the one who decided that you could spar with Clint behind my back. You did this to yourself,” the god replied

“You don't let me do anything fun,” She pouted

“You could be doing something fun if you hadn't tried kick Barton in the face,” he reminded her

“It's not my fault he said I couldn't hit him with my boot,” she retorted “it's also not my fault he convinced me to spar. I'm a young lady, I'm easy to take advantage of,”

Loki shook his head “It didn't seem like that when I walked into the training room to find you pinning the archer down.”

“Who even told you where we were?” she asked

“Steven mentioned seeing you with Clint, I figured I'd check the training room first.” The god replied, truthfully he'd searched the entire building when he had found out you weren't in your room like you were supposed to be.

“You do know that they could very well make sure we don't get to have our little outings anymore if you get worse because I didn't look after you,” he told her

“Lie,” she smiled “the others can't stand you long enough to hang out with you,” Loki glared at her, and she chuckled “It’s true,”

“You think they care if I'm happy?” He reasoned

“Maybe,” she paused “probably not. But, they do want to make sure you aren't planning world takeover part two. So they need someone to watch you or keep you busy, and I guess that person is me,”

“You don't have to if you don't want to,” he told her

“I know,” she smiled

“So you like our outings then,” he said

“Of course I do, they were my idea stupid,”

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A/n: Quick reminder that requests are open so send some in! -G

[writing-with-rain]

Ethereal: Chapter 3

“Ethereal…. Ethereal!”

A heavy mist coils and wraps around the dragon huntress’ body, thick and suffocating. It takes Ethereal a moment to remember that she has been here before, she knows where she is. She stands still for only a moment and calms herself. She was still in the castle, she wasn’t dead yet, she was dreaming. She was talking to the ancient dragon again. Or rather, it had called her back to the depths of her own consciousness. “I am here, Dracona.”

“Well I know now I brought the right human here. You have a terrible imagination.” All around the fog rumbled a deep sound, reverberating through Ethereal. The ancient dragon was purring.

“Did you bring me here for a reason? Or just to muse over my name for you, old dragon?”

“Ancient.”

“A fancy way to say old. What do you want?”

“To warn you, hatchling. Days ago, you were in the presence of cult members, I could see the memories, hear them through you. But now you must know about the dragon they pray to. He has no official name, and if he did then it has been long since lost. They only call him God now. To them, he really is one—“

“Dragons are no gods, he is no god.”

“Yes, exactly. But there lies our problem. He is taking every loose thread and disposing of it so he can become one. He is sending his most devote followers to slaughter anyone of Balsana heritage, anyone with those abilities. You are on that list, hatchling.”

“And what am I to do about it? I have a job to do here, I cannot charge off in the middle of the night to go hunt down cultists before they get me.”

There was a loud and deafening hiss as something hit the ground. “No, No! I wasn’t telling you to do that, not unless you wish to walk to the other side early. You cannot take on that many. It would be your death, do not be foolish.”

“Quell your tantrum, I am not planning my death yet, you overgrown lizard.”

“Watch your sharp tongue, hatchling. I gave the Balsana their abilities. Remember that.”

“Consider it watched. I know that’s not all you wanted to talk about, I can feel it. So, what’s your other concern?”

“Prince Vaseil. I do not trust him, nor do I trust one of my hatchlings around him.”

“I think you can leave him to me, he’s as dangerous as a fly, after all, don’t you need to warn the other Balsanas about this if they’re in danger?”

“I have tried but they are either dead or will not accept my help. My hatchlings have always been that way. Gifted to talk to dragons, but they choose to let draconic words fall on deaf ears. I cannot save those who refuse my help, Ethereal. So tell me, will you refuse? Or will you carry the burden of being the last Balsana when they come after you finally?”

“That last Balsana? You have to be joking, Dracona.”

“I wish I was, hatchling, but I am not. My children have all turned on me. I knew the day would come, but I had hoped it would be many years still.”

“I have not turned on you. You have been my guide in even my darkest of hours. I will never turn on you. I promise you that.” Ethereal looked around as she spoke, trying her best to spot the large creature through the thick fog still blanketing the surrounding area. Before she could speak again there was the sound of thudding against the ground and the fog was disturbed. When the fog had finally cleared, a dragon stood before Ethereal, looking down at her from its full height.

“Then I must ask something of you, my last hatchling.”

“What do you need from me, Dracona?”

“I do not have the energy to keep hoping from mind to mind, and the others have locked me out, but as long as I am here like this you will stay asleep. You are the last mind I can turn to, and the one I would have picked among all others, so I ask you now that we may merge consciousness.”

“And what happens if we do? Will you lose your thoughts? Or will I lose mine?”

“Neither, Ethereal. You will keep your thoughts, but we will be linked. It will be that two beings reside in your body, though I will have no control over you. I may only be able to talk and share what I feel through my link with you. You may force the link to break and me to leave if you ever need to. But, on the other hand, I may share my knowledge with you when I need to and when you need it, so you will not be flooded with it all. I fear if you knew all I did it may damage your mind. And as a Balsana, your senses were already sharper than that of a normal human, now, if you link with me, they will be more powerful than before and you will gain some of the senses of a dragon with it.”

“Senses of a dragon? Don’t you have the same as us?”

“I do have all the sense you humans have, but dragons have a talent for detecting energies of other dragons, or energies in general. It is how we know when other creatures are near. You will have to learn to use this and tell what each energy is. I may not be of much help to learn it since feeling it through someone else means it will be different than feeling it myself. And what you all call a sixth sense, an ability to sense danger, that will become much more telling and much sharper.”

There was nothing said on Ethereals part at first. She stood silently, eyes trained on the ground in thought as she debated the idea in her head. Time passed like this for what seemed to be a few minutes, only when the dragon spoke up did she realize it was longer. “Hatchling, the hour before dawn draws near, you must decide soon if you wish to wake up in time.”

“Dracona, I will not let you fade from this world too…. Do what you have to so we can merge.”

“This will not be a painless thing, hatchling, but once I begin I cannot stop.”

“I understand, but I am a Shea, I can handle it. Just begin.”

No warning was given before the ancient dragon took to the air on broad wings. Wind swept up around Ethereal before the ground crumbled away to a vast blackness around her. But the dragon speaker did not falter when it gave out beneath her own feet, she allowed herself to fall, she did not scream, only looked to the shadow of the dragon diving after her before she closed her eyes.

Ethereal wasn’t sure what had happened next, but she could hear a shrill ringing in her ear before she felt something hit her chest, right over her heart. It was ice cold against her body and a chill shot over her skin before the feeling dug inside deeper and once under her skin the chill was replaced by a searing heat. It felt as though the inside of her body had caught fire and was trapped by ice. She didn’t remember when it had happened, but she began to scream, even in this unconscious world she could feel the strain on her throat as wailing ripped from her. All around her on the outside was a soothing presence, but it didn’t do much, nor did the pitiful and attempted comforting purrs that could be heard faintly under the shrill ringing. Dracona could not do much now that this had started, and her own pain was listening to the screams of her hatchling, knowing why and unable to help.

For what seemed like hours this continued. Though Ethereals voice eventually ran raw she still screamed, hoarse and ever-hurting, the taste of iron coating her tongue and mouth. Finally, the feeling of ice stopped assaulting her body, and soon after the fire under her skin cooled as well. When it had, Ethereal had come to realize her back was laying against something solid, but all around her was an echoing blackness when she looked to see what it was. Her mind was in a haze from the blinding pain, now only an ache through her body. She lay still, taking in desperate and gasping breaths as new tears joined the dried ones on her cheeks and face. Her mouth still tasted heavily of blood, and when she tried to speak she found herself unable to do more than a pitiful whimper, a sound repeated more than once after.

“Ethereal, hatchling, you did well.”

Did well? She had never screamed so much in her life, and even now when she could feel something moving and pressing against her from the inside she found herself at another ack of air, mouth agape in a sorrowful attempt to take in more oxygen.

“It will take more than a while to get used to having another in your body. But you did well, my hatchling. I know, it seems like you didn’t, but I assure you I have seen others break down worse, and even after it was over.”

Ethereal didn’t try to speak, she had not realized that this is what it would all feel like, that it would feel like another creature was under your skin. The pressure inside was almost unbearable. Her entire body felt like it was being stretched to its limits, that at any moment it would split. There was another whimper as she tried to move, finding the pain that followed left her unable to. All around her a low and cooing purr surrounded and comforted her. The lulling sound did some to distract her from the pain before it was overcast by a voice. “It is time for you to awaken, hatchling.” Ethereal sucked in a breath before she opened her eyes again, unsure of when she had closed them back after considering all she saw was black around her. This time however she could see the peaking light from behind her. A shining mirror. Though it was overgrown with plants around its frame and despite the fact the glass was glowing, scratches and cracks could be traced along it with ease. “You must get up, Ethereal.”

She lay still for a moment longer before rolling onto her side, focusing on the mirror instead of the pain as she pulled herself to her feet and staggered forward. Each step and breath she took was unfamiliar and only solidified her thoughts of ripping open. Not a pretty thought that she played with. But all around her was a low purring, encouragement and comfort. Something she wasn’t about to turn away from now like she normally would have. Finally, she had reached the mirror, hands wrapped tightly on the frame to brace herself before she heaved her body through it, closing her eyes at the blinding light that always followed once she entered.

When she opened her eyes next, Ethereal found herself looking up at the ceiling of her castle room. Her vision was fuzzy and dim in the scarce moonlight filtering through cracks in her window curtains. Even in this world, her body felt tense and tugged, splitting. But she powered through it as she got ready, hearing a deep rumble far in the back of her mind. Dracona. As she finished getting dressed and fastening her belt onto her outfit she could sense something coming. She stood puzzled for a moment when she realized how far it seemed to be. “A dragon’s ability. You have them now.” Ethereal said nothing, still untrusting of her voice even if she had not screamed in reality. There was a lingering taste of blood in her mouth, a bitter reminder of the pain that still ached and pulsed in her body as she left her room and started for Vaseil’s quarters.

When she had finally arrived and had gone through her own check of the surrounding area, she made her way to his room, nodding to the young guard she trained at times, and pushed her way inside. By now there were bright rays of sun rushing into his room through the balcony opening. Had he really opened that last night and left it after she had gone? Probably, he was careless at times. “Be careful around him, hatchling.” A mothers warning is what it sounded like to Ethereal as she moved to wake Vaseil. Though as she stepped closer to him she noticed a new energy, but she couldn’t place it. It was unlike that of the guards she had felt earlier, though they all differed in some aspect, they had the same underlying feeling. Truly she couldn’t explain it well yet, but there was something off about that of Vaseil’s.

“Prince Vaseil. It is time for you to wake.” She stood close to him as she spoke, annoyed when he didn’t wake and instead repeated herself, shaking him until she heard a low whine like most mornings. She rolled her eyes before he could turn over to see her do so and shook him again. “Prince, it is time for you to wake.”

“Ethereal, what did I tell you a few days ago?”

She stood still and pursed her lips together. A few days ago, at the festival, about his name. He had reminded her every day, but still it felt odd. “Vaseil, it’s time to get up.”

“Better.” His voice was still tired as he sat up and shook his head to wake himself more. “The maid not here yet?”

“I wouldn’t have called you Vaseil if she was.”

“Good point.”

“I shouldn’t call you that anyways.”

“I don’t see the problem with it, I told you to.”

“I’m sure the king would find great problem with it.”

Vaseil did not argue with that. The king had given Ethereal a hard time since her arrival her, and he doubted it would stop anytime soon. As he opened his mouth to speak his gaze sharpened and he looked over to Ethereal with a serious expression. She was confused as she caught his stare, he never looked this serious. Not with her at least. “Ethereal, did you do something to yourself?”

“Your H—Vaseil?”

“Have you done something to yourself or not?”

Only merged with a dragon, she thought. “No, Vaseil, I haven’t done anything to myself. Why do you think I have?” Her voice sounder too proper, even to herself.

“It looks like you’ve injured yourself.”

She was taken back by his tone and words, looking at him with a curious gaze she pressed on. “And how do I look injured?”

There was silence before she heard a quiet response. “Never mind, I’m seeing things, you didn’t hurt yourself. Please wait outside, the maid will be here soon.”

“As you wish, Vaseil.”

“Your highness.” His voice was cold and accusing, though of what Ethereal couldn’t tell. So she swallowed the words stuck in her throat and tried to calm the growling she could feel against the back of her skull.

“As you wish, your highness.” Not another word left Ethereal as she left the room, even with her back turned she could feel the cold energy radiating from him, and still it stayed strong as she clicked the door into place behind her, nodding to the maid as she slipped inside.

You did nothing to yourself, but that dragon has. Vaseil’s thoughts were broken by the maid entering the room and setting his clothes down before she turned her back to him so he could change. He did so swiftly and his day began. Even then, he made no move to talk to his guard.

By the end of the day, Dracona was absolutely howling with rage in the back of Ethereals mind. “Untrustworthy human! I told you, Ethereal! What has happened to him?!”

“You are making it very hard to focus, Dracona.” Ethereals own thoughts echoed back at the dragon as she tried to quiet the ancient beasts raging tantrum. Still, having someone talk was a nice distraction from her own thoughts while the prince bathed and she stood alone. Or as alone as she could be now. Not a word had been said between Ethereal and Vaseil since the morning when he had started to act strange.

“Be careful around him, my hatchling, something is wrong.”

“I know that, and I always am.”

The ancient dragon grew silent and restless as Vaseil entered the room and the maid left once more with his clothes from the day’s activities. The air surrounding him was still cold to Ethereal and she didn’t speak as she watched him. On her hip rested the blade her had bought her, sheathed in its scabbard. But the hilt was exposed and her nail clicked against it impatiently. She wanted to know what had caused this sudden change, but something about his actions and Dracona’s reactions told her that was not her wisest decision at the moment. So she silenced herself, stilled her hand, and stood as she was supposed to. She tried to pay no mind to the stifling air of the room, or the silence that lay heavy on her tongue now. Only focused on trying to tell energies from each other. Only leading her to confusion over Vaseil’s every moment she did.

When Ethereal finally looked out the window and over the dark landscape, she realized she could see much further than she ever had before, much better, even in the dark. “A dragon’s eyesight.” The dragon that moved inside of Ethereal really hadn’t needed to tell her, but she apricated hearing the voice anyways. She could have done without the dull pain whenever said dragon moved around or shifted in her consciousness however. It only made Ethereal want to run, to move, to do something to feel right in her own skin. “Sorry, hatchling.”

“Will you ever stop calling me that?”

“It’s very unlikely.”

A deep sigh left Ethereal and caught the attention of Vaseil. As she turned to him she bowed her head. “It is time for me to retire for the night. Try not to leave your balcony doors open.” Her voice was much colder than she intended, colder than when she addressed the king the first day, but she made no move to apologize for it. Only looked at Vaseil once more before she took her leave. And unlike the nights prior, there was no chuckle or childish goodnight, only silence and tense air as Ethereal headed for the gardens to train.

After an hour, Vaseil still has not fallen asleep, so he stood and moved to his balcony, pushing the doors open as he looked down to the garden below. There, two figures were sparring, and soon the taller one was knocked to the ground in defeat. Ethereal was training the young guard again and Vaseil racked his memory for the guard’s name. Drea. That is his name. While Vaseil enjoyed watching most nights, this time he felt anger rising in him. Over what he wasn’t entirely sure. He knew there was a dragon in Ethereal now, he knew that she was aware of it, and still she had not trusted him enough to tell him the truth. But part of him was agitated by the dragon itself. He didn’t trust it around him, he didn’t trust what it may be capable of. What it may do to him or try to.

Even from here he could see the moonlight glinting off a silver blade, the one he had given her. She had set it aside along with her fur cloak for the training session. As he felt the anger inside of him grow over the dragon he turned back inside, slamming the balcony doors to as he did. Down below, he had drawn the attention of Ethereal, who looked on for only a moment before going back to training. It was only his energy in that room after all.

Back in his room however, Vaseil was pacing wildly. One guard had opened the door to check on him before angrily being told to leave him be. Once Vaseil had been pacing for a few minutes he slowed to a halt and stood in the center of his room, eyes closed and head bowed. He was unsure of what to do, but with the looming feeling of a dragon so close he made his choice. But he would have to think it over for a few more days before he acted upon it. Or even attempted to act upon it. With a resigned stance, he stumbled back to his bed, burying himself into the pillows as a weak attempt at comfort. Soon after, he fell asleep, uncaring and unaware of the world around him.

It wasn’t long after that when Ethereal had parted ways with Drea and dropped her belongings in her room, changing into her nightwear before looking to her door. With uncertainty, she fastened her belt back around her waist and made her way once more to the room of Prince Vaseil. After all, she might as well check that his balcony door was closed, and that he was safe, too. When she approached his door, she was met with annoyance, and resistance before the two guards stationed gave in and let her pass. Brushing off the encounter, she slipped into the room, bare footsteps kept silent on cold stone floor. Looking around she let her eyes rest first on the bundled-up form of the prince. He was asleep at least, which put Ethereal at ease being here. With how he had been to her today, the last thing she wanted was to deal with an awake Vaseil.

His balcony doors stood cracked open to her side. When he slammed them they must have had enough force to bounce back. With a shake of her head Ethereal closed them and slid the curtains on them back over to hide the light that would filter in by sunrise. Now only a small sliver of moonlight was cast across the room, and Ethereal was thankful for her improved eye sight as she made her way next to the bed. On the other side of the room sat a desk, and for a moment she halfheartedly considered putting her blade on it and leaving as she made her way to it, but she had grown fond of it and left it tethered to her belt in its scabbard.

Ethereal froze in her place when Vaseil began to move, kicking covers from himself before she realized it was only in a fitful sleep he did so. She released the breath she had been holding and strode over to his bedside, her own want of sleep up front as she looked at him. She hesitated before pulling his covers back over him, to which he curled up in tightly once more, the scrunched up look on his face leaving as Ethereal secured them in place. Hopefully when morning came he wouldn’t realize she had been here despite it all, and with that she left for the comfort of her own bed. She had never fallen asleep so fast in her life, as far as she could remember at least, and she savored every minute of it until Dracona woke her again.

This time the dragon was silent, and mostly unmoving, but that didn’t stop the unrest Ethereal felt as she walked to the room of Prince Vaseil. But upon entering, she was surprised to see the prince awake already, though the room was still dim compared to that out the outside world. “I didn’t realize you were awake already.”

“A guard is not to be in a prince’s chambers during the night.”

“It is daytime, your highness.” She had altered in her reply. How had he known?

“I mean last night. This was all you, right?” He motioned to the balcony doors and his bed where the blanket was still wrapped around him, though he made no move to rid himself of it.

“Yes, after the door slammed on the balcony last night I came to make sure it was closed for your own safety once my training was done. You were in restless sleep when I arrived, so I pulled your blankets back over you. I was in you room to make sure you were safe since it is my job, nothing more and nothing less, your highness.” Her words were dry and she couldn’t figure out how Vaseil had known, but Ethereal wouldn’t put it past one of the guards outside to have let him know, especially seeing as he was already awake.

Vaseil said nothing in response, only commanded her to leave the room. Ethereal didn’t have to think twice about it, deciding then that she would much rather be dealing with a brat like before than a cold prince whose air around her seemed like his fathers.