#like the blacksmith said there was no one to heal their heart.....

[actingwithportals]

Ok but the one thing I will say I didn't like about the finale was what happened to the Cat. That made me very sad I do not like seeing bad things happen to cats even if they are assholes

[heartfullofleeches]

The Blacksmith

Yan Deity HCs [Request]

Tw: Self Harm

-

- Blacksmith isn't what most would gods would consider being one of their own. For the better part of its existence, The Blacksmith has functioned akin to a machine rather than his own individual self. Acting on orders given by those above him was all he knew until the punishment of gods through extensive torture was shunned upon by many. Blacksmith was free to do as they wished, but they're generally stumped to the workings of society outside of what their created purpose.

- Love as humans and even some gods express it is unfamiliar to the Blacksmith. Their creators greatest mistakes was teaching it the painful side of love without the innocence of something puee. He was instilled with the knowledge that any sign of weakness should not be allowed. That being said, a strange warm fills its chest whenever you treat it kindly. He does not deserve the gesture- Are you toying with it because you truly believe he is beneath you?

"My Lord.... I do not understand the purpose of this so called "hug" you have bestowed upon me.... I did not ask you to stop."

- There is no room for error in Blacksmith's eyes. As he adapts to the mortal understanding of affection, Blacksmith showers you with gifts and gestures to prove they are willing to even the playing field with you. If he brings you something you are allergic to or simply not a fan of its wise to keep sharp objects from him until you can calm him down and assure him it was a common mistake.

"May the spill of my blood grant me your forgiveness.. Had I heard you clearer I would not have made this mistake."

"It's cool, dude- Pizza is pizza."

- The Blacksmith is immortal and heals relatively quickly, which is why if you bother to patch them up when they do get hurt their brain just kinda shortcuts for a while. You are the mortal in the situation. Those supplies would be better saved for you. Is this what it means to care for another out of the generosity of one's heart(s)? Is this love? Logically, when you are injured they must return the sentiment.

"Please hold still, My Lord. The cast is almost complete."

"Isn't this a bit excessive? It was only a splinter."

"... Negative."

- The Blacksmith has a hidden profession of making music boxes. It is a tad embarrassed due to the macabre nature of the other objects it creates, but as they learn more if your world it develops a small obsession with the melodies they produce and their mechanisms. He leaves ones he is most proudest of in your bedroom - expecting you to somehow have no clue how it ended up there.

- Blacksmith can easily remove their helmet - they just don't want to. He has been described as beautiful by gods who have met it after the incident due to their eyes, but as for the appearance of its face as a whole no-one knows. It wears the iron maiden to atone for its sin of nearly condemning an innocent god, but it also believes those gods were liars and that its face will disgust you. If you argue back that are gorgeous regardless of if you've seen it or not, The Blacksmith has no choice but to take your word as truth since they trust you not to lie to them.

- Enjoys classical music. Cannot dance to save it's own skin, but would greatly admire your dancing no matter your skill level.

- One rule you must keep in mind is to not give Blacksmith access to the Internet. He will absorb modern lingo and relationship advice like a sponge. It confuses him greatly, but considering you are from this time it might be the key to winning your heart.

"Have a good day at work...Pookie."

[hollysoda]

Dragon of Time - one of the largest dragons to be seen in the skies. It is said to be the oldest of its brothers, having been reported to exist in many eras, and was therefore named after its timelessness. Though some doubt whether it truly is a good dragon, for the sharp markings on its face and whitened eyes give off the impression of something dangerous

Wolf Dragon - named for its furry wolf-like appearance. It only breaks the cloud barrier at dusk and roams the night, it’s somber howl becoming a folklore for travellers in forests. Legends say that it was once a friend of the Twili, and it circles around the Arbiter’s Grounds every night

Warrior Dragon - named for the metal plating that covers its back, and for how it only seems to appear before soldiers of pure heart/soldiers down on their luck. It is said that seeing the Warrior Dragon will bless the person with strength and courage, and if a feather from one of its blue whiskers were to fall before a captain they would be ensured victory

Winged Dragon - the rarest of the dragons, for it favours staying above the clouds and roaming the islands in the sky. Unlike most other dragons, it is more bird like, being covered in crimson feathers and sprouting large wings. It’s red feathers sometimes fall to the surface, and if spotted by a romantic couple they are blessed with eternal love. Some researchers argue that the Winged Dragon is even older than the Dragon of Time

Fairy Dragon - this dragon is often seen floating above Fairy Fountains, and it is said that new fairies are born from this dragon’s scales. It too has wings, but these ones are shaped like a butterflies. Some ancient texts read that parts of fairy dragon can heal even the most fatal injury or sickness, and a great evil once sort out the dragon in order to revive their leader

Long-Eared Dragon - an unusually pink dragon, adorned with golden horns and claws and most notably long rabbit-like ears. It soars around the entirety of Hyrule, but more sightings of it have been recorded around Eventide Island than anywhere else. If you are lucky enough to get close to this dragon, there is a sense of great calm in the air around it, as if the spirit within once fought many hard battles and now roams the sky in peace

Wind Dragon - a brilliant blue dragon that is a popular legend amongst seafarers and fishermen. It roams the coastlines, and is even said to sometimes dwell under water as there are stories of large draconic shadows being spotted beneath boats. If you ever feel a sharp breeze steering your sail away from your destination, it is most likely the Wind Dragon warning you of danger. However, the Wind Dragon is also often blamed for dangerous storms

Rainbow Dragon - a remarkably smaller and yet colourful dragon with iridescent scales. It is said to harness the powers of wind, fire, water and the earth combined, making it quite difficult to approach. Legends spread amongst blacksmiths say that if one were to meld one of its scales to a weapon the weapon would become unbreakable, and in an age where smithing is becoming a lost art many pray that they’re lucky enough to see the dragon

Dragon of the Wild - perhaps the most commonly reported dragon, for some claim to have known the spirit that resides within. It flies low around the entirety of Hyrule, but will then also return to the skies to fly with the Light Dragon. Over recent years it has become a staple sight in Hyrule and stories of the dragons origins have been passed down from generation to generation. It has become a commonly worshipped symbol for adventurers and soldiers alike

[honeysickledream]

'Overgrown'| Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader | Chapter Six

[photo cred: me | dividers by: @/saradika-graphics]

tags: Medieval/Middle Ages-ish AU, lots of fluff, some past family hurts / a sprinkle of angst, everyone is healing slowly, domesticity, moving and future planning

w/c: 1.4k

a/n: no spice, mainly driven by the apartment and job hunting i've started doing this past month or so. holy shit life's been a bitch and this has taken me a month and some change to write, but i wrote it anyways. hope y'all enjoy (i'm gonna go study for my last exam of the season)

Chap 1. | Chap 2. | Chap 3. | Chap 4. | Chap 5. || AO3

“He moved away,” you remembered Simon telling you, “right after the old man passed. Tommy took his wife and little Joseph and left a few hours later. They’d been plannin’ the move for ages, ever since our father got ill, but they never told me. Woke up the next day and…they were gone. Thought they’d gone to the lake a few miles east, so I checked there but no one had seen ‘em. Tavern wasn’t open, the inn’s ledger didn’t have their names or Tommy’s pseudonym. A week later, I got a letter from ‘im. Livin’ close to London, new life and no specters loomin’ over them. Joseph was sleepin’ well, Beth could finally relax her shoulders, and Tommy’d taken up apprenticin’ with a blacksmith like he’d always wanted to do. No invitation to join ‘em, to even visit ‘em. Haven’t seen ‘em since—Joseph’s probably…he’s probably a man now, nearly twenty? Wouldn’t recognize me even if I had a sign around my neck listin’ our memories together.”

You watched as Simon brought the last of his clothes to the wash basin you were bent over. He’d decided that all linens from the larger bedroom needed to be washed thoroughly before they even caught a glimpse of your bedroom—which was now his, too. Every time he walked out of the old room, he wore a grimace and shuddered as if something cold passed through him. The specters of his past did, you supposed. Even you couldn’t enter the main bedroom without feeling a crushing weight on your shoulders.

Though he didn’t bring it up, you knew he was wondering if you’d given thought to moving out of the cabin and into town. To your credit, you were thinking about it, perhaps too much. How much it would cost, the physical and emotional labor of the move, and the changes to routines it would bring kept you awake at night and distracted you while you cleaned. You had a lovely scar forming on your palm from when your thoughts wandered too far while you were slicing apples to have with dessert.

You knew you wanted to move, for him mainly. You wanted the man you loved—even if you hadn’t said it outright yet—to sleep through the night and be unburdened. But there was information you needed, the security of knowing there was a solid plan and a handful of contingencies to support it, before you could jump into something so large. So, when he sat across the wash basin from you to sort through the sopping heap of clean clothes, you told him as much. He listened well, something you loved about him, and agreed with you on everything but the timing. Sooner, rather than later, was the request he firmly refused to change. You made it perfectly clear to him that if he wanted to live somewhere else soon, there could be no buying of the first available house. That the ‘somewhere else’ couldn’t be rundown or have suspicious airs about it. That earned a laugh from him that had your skin warming and your heart clenching.

“Price and ‘is wife have offered me a position at their tavern when we find a house we like. I’d be workin’ nights, mainly keepin’ an eye on patrons and stoppin’ any fights, and it would give me time during the day to set up the house,” Simon told you as he climbed into bed, freshly bathed and thoroughly exhausted from his day of looking at the few available homes in town.

You rolled to face him. Guilt lingered in your mind, he’d been doing all the looking while you tended to your patients and worked on packing things in the cabin for the eventual move. No matter how many times he told you to not feel guilt, your mind did the opposite and piled more of the sickening feeling on you. “And have you found a house?”

“There’s one I’m keen on. Two streets down from that bakery ya love and close enough to the town square that runnin’ to market or goin’ to see your patients won’t be a hike-and-a-half.” He traced your cheek with the back of his finger. “When ya go on your rounds tomorrow, I’ll come with. We can see it together, maybe see some others.”

“And there’s no issue with cost?”

That lop-sided grin that fixed the world even on the worst of days appeared. “My love,” Simon gave the tip of your nose a peck, “money’ll never be an issue for us. My father was many things—many horrible things—but one of the few positives about him was his money sense. He made a big show about gamblin’, drinkin’, whorin’ even, but he saved where he could—where it counted. The only thing I got from him that I like is that.”

“It’s a good trait.” You rolled the rest of the way, lying mostly on top of him. These days his body was always warm, and the harder edges were softening here and there. “Your warmth is another one. No fire could compare to this comfort.”

He hummed and began trailing the tips of his fingers along your spine. The sweet touch sent pleasant shivers throughout your body and you snuggled into him further. “You’re the cause of my warmth. Feedin’ me all that good food, makin’ sure I always have enough. I like it.”

You gave a simple ‘mhm’ and let your eyes fall shut. Simon only woke up once that night from a bad dream and, when he managed to bring himself fully into reality, fell asleep quickly to your musing about a possible life in town. He was healing, on his own and with your help. He showed you it was possible even if it wasn’t easy.

Just the outside appearance of the house he was keen on showed you why. Dark stone and wood exterior with textured glass windows and pretty shutters. The front door was heavy and the locks were new—Simon cited that as one of his favorite things since it meant you were more likely to be safe if someone tried to intrude. You had no complaints about the first floor, save for the dust but it wouldn’t take you more than half a day to get rid of it with Simon’s help.

The kitchen was spacious and the larder was nearly twice the size of one in the cabin. There was a proper dining room, too, and you couldn’t help but imagine all the meals and conversations that would be possible. Hosting Simon’s friends, the few apprentice midwives, even your siblings and their newish families, would be easy in terms of space. There’d be no need to worry about people nearly sitting on top of others or feeling crowded and uncomfortable.

Your favorite room, so far, was the parlor. It had a large fireplace, room for more than just an arm chair and modest settee. The walls had enough room for bookshelves and a trunk or two full of your knitting and embroidery materials. Given all the room, you’d be able to teach Simon a simple dance or two to do at festivals and there’d be plenty of room for your nieces and nephews to run around and cause havoc. The upstairs was nice, too, and spacious as well. Three bedrooms, one of which could be made into a study or some kind of workshop while. The second largest bedroom would be reserved for guests and if your sleep schedule fell out of line with Simon’s.

Muscled arms wrapped around you, tugging you back against Simon’s front and away from all your planning. “Like it?” he asked.

“Mhm. It’s pretty, nice location in town like you mentioned, and it doesn’t seem like it would be a nightmare to keep clean if we both tackle the chores like we’ve been doing,” you said. “I think we should make it ours.”

He dragged you towards the front door, throwing it up and holding you tightly in the doorway. Neither of you seemed to care much that a few people stopped to see the sight as Simon pressed his lips sweetly and softly to yours, a blessing of sorts for the future. By the end of the week, you and Simon were proud new owners of a beautiful home and a truly brand new start.

[milksnake-tea]

hello!! 💕💕 first of all, I'd like to say CONGRATS ON THE 1K FOLLOWERS!! honestly your work is so amazing you totally deserve it - reading your work is such a pleasure and such an inspiration, keep up the amazing work, Lui!! 💕💕

okok so now for my request:

may I humbly ask for the love of my life Blade with angst dialogue 10... (please be easy on my heart 💔)

anyways, have a lovely day!! I can't wait to see what you write for this event!! :)

❀ ˎˊ- prompt: "I didn't know where else to go." ❀ ˎˊ- 1k followers event ❀ ˎˊ- character: blade ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: angst ofc !! but not too heavy lmao, mentions of blood and injuries, brief mentions of blade's real name ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: AHHHH TY EL !!! UR SO SWEET I KEEP SAYING THIS BUT GRIPS U

Blade muttered a silent curse to himself, clutching at his bleeding arm as he hauled himself through the Xianzhou. Normally, he would've welcomed the injury, but this one didn't seem to be healing anytime soon.

The streets were uncharacteristically silent - something Blade found himself thankful for. It wouldn't do him any good if a civilian, or worse, a Cloud Knight, had found an injured Stellaron Hunter out in the streets.

He hardly paid attention to where his feet were taking him; he didn't care. Anywhere was fine, as long as it was away from the enemy.

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of a familiar doorstep. Blade blinked, before cursing himself for his carelessness. He needed to get out of here, quick, before you figured out he was here.

He attempted to walk away, but instantly, his arm flared with pain. Blade hissed, glaring at his arm as if it had done something wrong. His arm did not reply.

He heaved a sigh. He'd love to just leave and treat his wound himself. But where to would he leave? Here, he was on enemy territory. No one would welcome him.

Lost in his turmoil, Blade failed to register the sound of your approaching footsteps. It was when you finally opened the door, and the light of your home cascaded onto him that he stiffened like a deer in headlights.

You looked as young as he remembered you - or rather, as much as he could remember you. Such was the fate of a long-lived species, he mused. Your eyes were wide with surprise, shock, and even fear.

"Yingxing?" you managed out in disbelief.

You took a step back, taking a defensive position. Somewhere, in the depths of Blade's guarded heart, something tightened painfully.

"What are you doing here?"

You tried to sound assertive, but the tremble in your voice gave you away. You were scared, and Blade knew it. He didn't blame you. He was a Stellaron Hunter, after all. Creating fear was part of his job - Kafka was particularly good at it.

Usually, he liked fear. He loved seeing it in the eyes of his enemies, their ego dropping to absolute terror when faced with an opponent far beyond their league.

But with you, something about it made his gut twist, as though something was wrong.

As Blade merely stared at you, conflicting emotions swirling in his eyes, you noticed his arm. His black coat was ripped, revealing the gaping slash wound.

"You're hurt," you stated the obvious. Blade cringed, but nodded.

"I..." he took a deep breath. For a moment, the criminal wanted by the IPC looked nervous, vulnerable. "I didn't know where else to go."

Your gaze dropped. It'd been centuries since you'd last seen Yingxing, or Blade. When you last saw him, he was the blacksmith of the High Cloud Quintet, a hero to the Xianzhou. Now, he was one of its most hated criminals.

If you let him into your home and were caught, you'd surely be arrested for treason.

Blade noticed your conflicted gaze. Despite expecting this result, he couldn't help a pit of disappointment from forming in his stomach. He straightened, hardening his gaze.

"Never mind," he said quietly, turning his back. "I apologize for bothering you."

"Wait."

Your voice stopped him in his tracks. You crossed your arms, wondering to yourself if you were insane, delusional, or perhaps just plain stupid.

"Come in," you sighed, quite honestly disappointed in yourself. "You'll get it infected at this rate."

Very reluctantly and confusedly, Blade followed you into your home. You pointed him to the couch, which he wordlessly sat himself on while you disappeared into another room, presumably to retrieve medical supplies.

His memory is foggy, but there's a sense of familiarity here. He briefly remembered the paintings that are hung up, the ones that you won in a bidding. He recognized the table at which you'd drink tea and discuss your day with him.

Flashes of memory flicker in his mind, but Blade immediately squashed them. He knew that delving into the past would only serve to irritate the mara lying dormant within him.

It wasn't long before you returned, holding a first aid kit and sitting down next to him.

"Can you take off your coat?" you asked. "It'll make things easier."

Blade followed suit, slowly unbuttoning his coat and letting it fall to the couch around him. Bandages were wrapped around his entire torso, while scars of many lives littered his skin like burned reminders.

You reached out a hand - but what for, you didn't know. To console him? To touch his scars, to give him even the slightest of comfort?

But you didn't. No, the relationship you two once had was no more. You no longer had the right to do so.

And so, you opted for bandaging him, cleansing the wound, applying ointment, and wrapping it. You stubbornly kept your eyes on the gash, no matter how much you hated the sight of blood, refusing to look up and meet Blade's burning gaze.

"You can stay the night."

Your mouth moved before your brain did. You almost didn't believe your own words, and immediately you wanted to take them back. Even Blade was shocked by your offer, staring at you as though you've grown a second head.

"But," you quickly added, "you need to be gone by tomorrow morning. I refuse to be arrested because you're found in my home."

Your words stung, but were understandable. Blade closed his eyes, and nodded. You stood up.

"There's an extra blanket and pillows in the closet," you said, packing up the first aid kit. "Goodnight, Yingxing."

"Blade," he corrected quietly. "I lost my right to that name a long time ago."

You were silent for a moment.

"Very well," you finally said. "Goodnight, Blade."

And as you left for your bedroom, leaving the criminal in your living room, you could barely hear the faintest of whispers from your old friend.

"Goodnight, [Name]."

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[longjohnsilverfish]

Little Leech

No NSFW, though it references past sexual encounters. This does have graphic gore.

A/N: The GIF you see is what they are wearing in the story. Enjoyy!!

^_______________________________________^

Just a few more days.

Just a few…few more days.

I’ll have my engine fixed, we’ll get out of the Hells, and have the life of luxury.

All for you, little leech.

“Karlach?”

————————————————

It had been several months since Astarion and Karlach had been at their reunion party. Such fun it was, seeing his woman dance free like a newly born colt and hug each of their companions with heavy arms. For Astarion, that’s all the enjoyment he needed. To know that soon, this would be there normal.

But of course, seeing how everyone was keeping themselves was incredibly intriguing to see; Lae’zel a mother? Gale a teacher? Shadowheart a farmer? Wyll even more boring than before (okay that was a bit rude, but as if Astarion would admit to it), had he mention Lae’zel and Shadowheart were married? As in together? 

Everything really can change in six months. 

But soon, with heavy hearts, he and Karlach love were transported back to Avernus.

Since then, Karlach had been sobbing mess; and Astarion couldn’t blame her. Seeing her upset to be back in the place she hated broke Astarion’s heart. Even as they pillaged and fought every force their way, in the end of every fight—dust settling and last breaths drawn—Karlach would sob once more.

And each time, Astarion would be right at her side—drying her eyes, combing guys from her red-streaked raven-colored crown, holding her closely as she nuzzle into his hair.

And they would camp, nurturing each other’s woulds with care and affection. Astarion would peel her hair from her face with gentle hands, braiding tight and firm. 

He would catch her eyes, amber and ruby sparkling from the fires that surrounded them—and in themselves.

Their hands would cup each other’s cheeks.

“I adore you, y’know?”, Karlach would say, a soft smile to her face. 

Those dimples, those dark freckles. Gods, what a woman.

“I know, and adore you ever more,” Astarion replied.

He would push her to the ground. She would let him.

He was 5’11. She was 8’3.

How badly he looked, head between her breasts looking up with big eyes of lust.

And they would love each other, every night, legs twisted and arms wrapped. Souls melting as one in heat. Soft huffs of air. Scratches deep and red. 

Morning would come, and so would the coming battle. 

Such was the routine—a beautiful, loving routine—but a routine nonetheless.

And it would continue for several more months. Several months of killing, or surviving, of scratching up mountains to escape imps, planting bombs to blow cambions sky high, traps to keep monsters at bay—until now.

An infernal blacksmith was found.

And through pleading, bargaining, threatening, and (more effectively) body-out-the-window-ing, it would be made. 

Three days, and they would be free from Avernus.

Three days, and Astarion would return to the surface. The sun.

The sun.

“Are you worried, Star?” 

Karlach’s soft voice awoke the vampire from his thoughts. Astarion looked to the left, to the lying woman against his being—body warmth radiating and wrapping around the cold elf.

They had been able to camp in the blacksmith’s workshop, and now slept beneath a small canopy with pillows and blankets beneath them. The smell of coal and soot was strong, but it wasn’t better than the constant stench of imp piss staining every inch of dead soil.

Astarion rolled his eyes, hand coming up to the tip of Karlach’s ear. A small cut—healed, but scarred. A permanent reminder to him and his failure to watch Karlach’s back.

“No…just thinking,” he said absentmindedly. “I’ll have to buy a sunhat. Ugh.”

Karlach giggled. “Aw, you don’t like being a grandma? You have the hair for it.”

The vampiric elf gasped in dramatic feigning. “You little devil, you!” 

A soft push against her arm made the strong red tiefling laugh more, now infecting Astarion—fangs shown and all. 

“I’ll have you know, that while you shall grow old in our mansion by the sea, I will be the cougar-loving man who shall feast upon you every night.”

“A mansion?”, Karlach said bemused, a hand on her cheek as she laid idly. “How will you afford for that—pay theif to pay theif?”

“Oooh, you fiendish little pup.” Astarion rolled over on-top of Karlach’s stomach—petite and lean. She had placed a cambion’s large belt around her belly—a trophy, she said. Astarion couldn’t argue with that—the way the golden matched her eyes looked good on her.

Astarion bent down, nipping under her jaw like a mother would do her babe. “Gods, just a few more days.”

Karlach went quiet.

“Karlach?” Astarion asked, a touch of concern in her tone.

The elf looked downwards to the woman, who seemed to be clouded in thought. She swallowed, before speaking.

“Karlach?”, Astarion asked, head cocked to the right.

“I-I just, I’m worried—for you,” she said, her hands coming up to Astarion’s waist—holding tight and secure. “You’ll have to hide from the sun.”

“Yes.” Astarion agreed, his mind momentarily fleeting within itself.

He hadn’t thought about it, until now. To hide in the shadows, to never be able to walk like a man again—boundless and carefree. And yet, Astarion found himself…not caring.

Not caring.

Well, isn’t that something.

“Strangely, I am not worried.” The elf man replied. “At least, not a lot. Don’t get me wrong, it will be an issue…”

“Another issue—.”

“Another?”

Karlach froze, shutting her eyes. “I-I just, I mean..”

“Yes, darling?”

The tiefling woman took a deep breath, sighing heavily. It was a few moments, but Astarion sat—patient and listening.

“You’ve dealt with me, dealing with me, and Astarion…now I’m—.”

Nope. Nope. No no no.

“Oh no, there’s no need for that.”, said Astarion, his hand on Karlach’s cheeks—squishing her facing together, lips puckered. “You, my salivating sweetheart, are not an issue.”

“Bt, ‘Strwn—“

“Hush hush. You’ve lost your speaking privileges.” Astarion settled upon Karlach’s body, before slowly shutting his eyes—his left and right hand now covering her mouth. 

“M-mm-m-mm”

“Lalala. Cannot hear you. I’m off to trance.”

————————————————

“Aagh! AGGH! ASTARION!!”

Astarion was thrown from Karalch’s body—sliding across the coal-coated floor. Airborne was he was, the vampire was slowly awaking—in his blurred vision, only seeing the claws of his lover throw his towards the other end of the room.

With a large thunk, Astarion landed square against the wall. His head ached and pounded in pain, his hand coming up to soothe it. As the elf man grumbled from his trance, eyes blinking awake to see the woman screaming in pain, her hands upon the thick cambion belt. 

And that is when Astarion’s fears and nerves crashed upon him like a stack of bricks.

The agonizing screams that echoed throughout the forge were ear-splitting. As the pale elf scrambled to his feet and ran, the screaming only got louder and louder. 

Sliding to Karlach’s side, Astarion was incensed at once—looking all over Karlach for any wounds or new blemishes.

“What happened?”, Astarion screamed, fear evident in his voice.

“FUCK! GET—THIS—OFF—!”

With a deep belly roar, Astarion watched as Karlach ripped off her belt and throw it just as she did with him, now revealing her mid-drift.

Her very large, very swollen mid-drift.

What in the hells?!

Before Astarion could speak, he watched Karlach barked at him in a rageful gaze, her own sharp teeth bared like a predator to its prey. Not longer was this his Karlach, but the barbarian Karlach every victim of hers had faces before their death.

“GET THESE FUCKING PANTS OFF ME YOU ELF BASTARD!”

Astarion said nothing, and with a quick swipe of his blade, did her pants come down in loose rags, only partly held together by stitches. Sharp pale nails rakes the loose pants down her legs, now seeing the wetness drip down her legs, pooling on the ground like a heavy waterfall.

The air stung with a smell of Karlach. Pure, unbridled rage with a tinge of sweetness and painfully evident this was amniotic fluid.

“FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK! FUCK ME, GODSDAMNIT!”

“I’m here, I’m here. Lay on your back, darling.”

There’s a small relief within Astarion—Karlach looked slightly less angry on her back. Oh, how she looked so beautiful, with her brow furrowed and nose scrunched.

“Good. Good.” 

Astarion moved himself between Karlach’s legs, staring between her thighs. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, her womanhood throbbing and heaving, covered in slick and water-like fluid.

“Darling, how long were you—?”

“STOP ASKING QUESTIONS AND HELP ME YOU MOTHERFUCKER—!”

The voice alone blew Astarion’s hair back just as accurately as a heavy wind on the open hills. With no response, the elf man ducked his head and watched her cunt.

Clench. Unclench. Clench. Unclench.

Her vaginal hole was breathing hard, and soon, more fluid began to exit down to the ground. The dirty, disgusting, coal-sooted ground.

With haste, Astarion grabbed his silk purple outfit and with no hesitation, tore the cloth apart to be longer lengthwise. The sound was no scream, but it was loud—each stitch popping, embroidery crying as it was being split in two.

Clothing be damned. 

A deep huff exhausted from Karlach. Another contraction.

“Fuck fuck fuck…”, she hissed. This wasn’t angry, but it was in pain, and it was afraid.

“I have you, my dear.”, Astarion cooed, bringing a hand upwards

Almost immediately, the elf regretted it as Karlach took it in her palms, squeezing it irregularly and tightly. Astarion hissed in pain, but gritted his teeth as he looked between the tiefling’s legs.

The contraction wanes, the thighs shake, and Karlach’s breath grows stable.

“Good,” Astarion encourages. “Good—well done, darling.” 

Astarion saw in his side-view Karlach nodded her head furiously as the mixture of sweat and tears on her cheek bones flow down her face. Her hair curling upon her forehead, her eyes half-lidded and pained.

The vampire placed his second hand upon her face, brushing her hair away.

“Gods…you have that glow midwives speak about.”

“R-really?” Her voice was now a whisper, her throat strained.

“Would I ever lie?”

“Yes…” A cheeky smile grew on Karlach’s face.

He didn’t encourage her to push, only the loud anguished roar that shook the room around them told him her pitiful attempt. Astarion watched as his lover clenched her teeth and bared down as hard as she could, letting out a gritted scream he hadn’t heard since their time in Faerûn. 

Looking between her legs once more, and now—now Astarion watched her vaginal entrance was beginning to open. The sounds exhales and huffs of pain rang in his ear, accompanying the raging symphony of Karlach’s cries and scream of pain as she began another push. Astarion gently rubbed her forehead, a soothing motion to allow her to continue.

His action worked, and fueled the woman with a second wind of courage.

“I’m gonna…I’m gonna. Please, please don’t leave.”

“Never.”

Karlach inhaled, shuts her eyes, and pushed again. 

Her legs opened wider, her hole pulsed with pain, and just like that—the skin on the side of her womanhood tore.

Karlach’s eyes opened wide, and the rage returned in full blast.

“AGHHHHHHHHHH!”

Blood began to pour from the wide of Karlach’s hole, and Astarion acted fast. Quick as he could, Astarion tore his shirt up, quickly balling it up to a point. Gently as he could, the elf dabbed the tear to cease the bleeding, dribbles upon dribbles of scarlet water pouring down her curving toned thighs.

As the new father began to calm him nerves for a thirteenth time in the last five minutes, he felt his arm get soaked in a flush of clear fluids. It was cold, it was warm, it was thick, it was thin; it was as beautiful as it was surprising.

And there they were—in the opening of his lover’s hole was the top of a head.

 “Again,” Astarion looked up at her seriously. “I need you to push again, Karlach.”

“ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE? THIS IS THE WORST PAIN I—!”

“Listen to me!” His voice loud and clean, eyes narrowed with emotion, fear, anger, and joy. He felt his lashes wet, but pushed his tickling feelings aside. “Push hard and hold it for as long as you can. It’s going to hurt, Gods know it will, but you must push.”

Astarion held their intertwined hands up for them to see. “For our baby’s sake.”

It was a wordless agreement; just a nod and Karlach squeezing Astarion’s bones together as she cried in jolting screech. 

A crunch, a snap, and a squish went Astarion’s hand—no doubt sprained somewhere. 

But watching Karlach, his strong tiefling love, pushing as hard as she could, was something that Astarion was enthralled with. Such beauty, such resilience, such strength.

Dear Gods, darling, where did you come from?

“SHIT!”

Something changes. More fluids gush—this time, thicker than before.

“ASTARION!“ 

He can tell, not just by the look of reverence on Karlach’s face, but by the increasing warmth on his arm.

Astarion looked down, and the head hadn’t moved.

Instead, blood was everywhere. The tear had grew, now stretching down her thigh. Red was everywhere, and the smell of Karlach was filling Astarion’s lungs more than ever. His eyes stared to the head, and it was so small, so tiny, but Astarion saw it.

The head moved, just an inch to the right.

“They’re here!” Astarion exclaimed prematurely from his throat, so fast he was unsure who was speaking.

The spreading of vaginal lips only got worse, the blood flowing down, the water gushing upwards.

The more the seconds past, the more the screaming cried, the more Karlach sobbed, the more she squeezed, she pushed, she stretched herself in two, the scene looking incredibly painful and horrendous for Karlach’s body.

“I can’t!” She wails, gasping before letting out a sob. Her legs began to shut, but with his adrenaline running Astarion kept her open.

“LET ME GO! I CANT DO THIS, ASTARION! IM DYING! IM GOING TO DIE—IM KILLING OUR BABY AND IM SORRY!”

Tears flowed down Karlach’s face, her lip quivering. 

“Hey!” Astarion snaps at her. “Listen to me—you are okay—you’re here with me and you are okay.” 

She is weeping uncontrollably now. Astarion leans down upon her belly gently. “I am not going to let either of you die.” He assures her. “I know it is unbearable, but you are so very close.” He encourages her. “Don’t give up—I know you can do this.” 

She lets her body take her where she needs to go, panting and whimpering as she does. She angles her hips, her thighs toughen by themselves, and she grabs Astarion’s hand as she bears down. 

This contraction reaches its peak when Astarion places the ball of her hand on her knee and commands her.

“Stop! Stop pushing!”

The head was halfway out. Black tufted hair, two small bumps on the lower side of the head, and Astarion didn’t realize until now that he was crying. 

“Puff,” Astarion sucks in a breath through puckered lips and exhales quickly and sharply to demonstrate. “Puff, now. Little pushes.” Though he doesn’t breathe, Astarion looks up to see Karlach matching him.

A moment, an ever louder scream, a second of ears ringing, and the eyes of the vampiric elf widen.

“Head’s out!” Astarion looks up at her, triumphantly. Though, the relief which should come with such a feat eludes her. He discards this thought and gives a pat to her knee, and she pushed again, giving Astarion time to take his hand from her knee to under her womanhood. 

He took his hand from hers, now assured his hand was broken in seven places. And yet, the new father took the silk he had ripped minutes before and into his hands.

“ASTARION!”

The pain reached another crux.

And in a desperate attempt to keep from drowning in it, Karlach sucks in a breath, squeezes her eyes shut and pushes through with all her might.

Astarion watches in awe as blood and clear fluids now exploded from Karlach, and in their wake, a small black furred head popped out.

Before Astarion could begin to panic, his new fatherly instincts took hold. With gentle clothed hands, he pulled their child out from Karlach’s sacred place. 

The cry it gave was their bell, their last hurrah.

A boy.

It was over. 

All over.

The wrinkly baby screamed and wailed, his fists and eyes scrunched so tightly it looked liked it hurt. His black hair was covered in gunk, so much that no matter how much Astarion wiped there was still a shine. 

So small.

So innocent.

Their small, innocent boy.

“A boy…”, Astarion sobbed with joy. No longer did he hold back, his nerves coming out in bulbous tears that streamed down his face.

“Astarion…” Karlach’s voice was soft. “Please…”

Onto her bare chest Astarion but their boy, and begins to rub circles on its back. He then pulled away to rummage through the duffle bag again. 

Returning back, his hand showed a red potion to Karlach’s lips. “Open, sweetheart. It will help.”

The sudden shift upwards caused the baby to let out a hearty cry. Karlach—in turn—bursts into tears.

“My baby,” she weeps. “Oh—my baby!” Karlach lifts her head and allowed Astarion to feed her the potion. With each gulp, the cut upon her thigh began to heal just as quickly it was given. 

Astarion had moved to cradle his love and his child in his arms. The child has a full head of Karlach’s dark hair, his skin few shades lighter than hers.  

The elf slowly raises his hand and brings it to rest on his son’s back; his tiny stature shakes as the tearless cries leave his lungs. Astarion strokes the baby’s skin, he is so enamored by the child, he cannot think of a better way to comfort it.

“He is magnificent,” He says in awe, as he still cleaned the babe with gentle movements. “Well done, my love.” 

They stay this way. Astarion shimmies a new, cleaner cloth over the now clean baby. The baby had quieted down, having adjusted to the environment outside of the homely womb.

Astarion lays eyes on the new mother and the baby lying on her chest. As Karlach regained her breath, she slowly adjusted her shirt off of herself, and gently nudge her large breast to the baby. The sleeping baby slowly fussed awake, before calming down and suckling the nipple greedily.

“He’s perfect.”, Karlach grinned. “The little leech.”

Silence between both new parents—in awe and in peace.

“So…was this the other “issue”?”

Astarion was gentle, a bit teasing, but gentle.

“Yes. It was.”

“How long ago?”

“About two weeks after coming back to Avernus. I…I couldn’t tell you.”

Astarion opened his mouth, when Karlach quickly interrupted.

“N-not because I didn’t know how you react—well, kinda, but not the entire reason. We had that general, then we had those imps. We never had a moment, y’know?”

The elf went quiet, before looking down at the feasting baby. Eyes fully of joy, as Astarion pulled his hand up and softly rubbed the boy’s head.

“What should we name him?”

“Something smart. Like his father.”, Karlach replied.

“Something brave, like his mother, personally.” Astarion smiled as Karlach nuzzled her head upon the shoulder of Astarion.

A few moments passed, before Astarion spoke—eyes never leaving his boy.

His boy. His.

Not in a possessive way, but a loving way.

“How about…Ivaebhin?”, he suggested. “The Boy with Brightness.”

“Ivaebhin…I like it.”, Karlach smiled. “Are you okay with a double name?”

“Double name? Quite unique.”

“For a unique child.”, she chided. “How about Ivaebhin…Astarion”

Astarion perked at this, looking at Karlach with questioning eyes. “A-Astarion?”

“Yes. Quite a good name. I fell it love with it the moment it first threatened me.”

Tears flowed from Astarion, as he lovingly dug into Karlach’s hair. “You insufferable fury.”

“You pompous leech.”

And such was the family of Astarion, Karlach, and Ivaebhin-Astarion Ancunín-Cliffgate

[fever-project]

The Girls are Fighting

Used @/zarvasace LU prompt generator, have a fanfic. Warriors and Four get to hang out in a cave. And by hang out I mean they are absolute maniacs to each other because they are very tired. Characters can act however I want them to if I claim sleep deprivation. 1,500 words, might put it on ao3 later.

▼ The traveler had warned them that monsters would constantly crawl out of the woodworks in his time, the only places safe from them being towns and the castle. But the Links thought themselves prepared for that, and set camp in a forest nearby the town of Rauru. If they did get attacked and overwhelmed, that would be their destination on their escape route.

Warriors was not able to go onto that escape route.

It happened in the dead of night. They had all scattered like rats in the chaos. Most converging onto the escape route. Two huddled up in a dark, narrow cave. It started to rain when they were running for their lives, then it started to pour.

Warriors was trapped in a cave with Four. Definitely not his first choice, but it wasn’t the worst thing to happen. Wars couldn’t recall the last time-or anytime for that matter-the two were alone with each other. Sure they interacted quite a bit, and were friendly with each other, but they never had a full on conversation between just the two of them. Maybe a few words, a couple of sentences, but Warriors would definitely enjoy the chance to talk to the resident blacksmith a bit more. Especially since Four seemed to be very encouraging of him.

Wars chugged down a healing elixir Wild had given him a while back, healing most of his wounds. The two heroes had no major injuries, but plenty of annoying, minor ones. Wars even had cobwebs in his hair. Many, many cobwebs. He really wanted to get out of this time as soon as possible.

He looked over at the smaller Link, who was completely cobweb free. Wars was far too tired to hide his scowl upon seeing that. Then the two made eye contact and Wars wished he didn’t have a face.

“Sucks to be tall, huh?” Four sneered, voice a bit hoarse.

“Shut your face-” Wars’ mind churned and sputtered, trying to come up with a good insult despite his current lack of sleep and fading adrenaline, “-you…tiny, tiny man.”

“Okay. Will do.”

Wars tightly gripped his scarf, trying not to fume at the fact that this man had simply brushed off his clever comeback. Well, he was awake enough to be aware that what he said wasn’t very clever, but it still hurt.

Warriors just fumbled with his hair and clothes, trying to make himself more presentable. It was a good way to calm and center himself. He glanced over at Four from time to time, who had happily fallen asleep while sitting. Wars envied him.

So, being the petty person he was, combined with his fatigued mind, Wars bundled up all the spiderwebs that was previously in his hair, stood up, walked over to Four, and smushed the sticky bundle right into his hair. Wars quickly walked back over to his previous spot, sitting back down and he watch Four groggily wake up. He quickly realized what had been done as he grabbed the side of his head, feeling the webbing getting stuck onto his hand. Wars giggled at his initial confusion, and further more at the angry face the little one sported.

“Looks like someone’s jealous my hair is perfect,” Four had spat and he attempted to untangle the webs from his hair.

“Perfect? Please, your haircut is atrocious.”

“‘yOuR hAiRcUt Is AtRoCiOuS!’ It’s practical, especially compared to yours. I bet you aren’t even a realblond!”

Wars gasped loudly, hand placed over his heart dramatically, “How dare you? Are you asking for a fight, is that what you want, you want these hands?”

“Hmm, better idea-“ Four whipped out a yellow, definitely magic cane, “-get flipped moron.”

“What do you-ACK!” Wars was hit with a ball of light from the cane, and was now suddenly upside down. Wars struggled to reorient himself, struggling more than he would like to admit, “You, you little-UGH!” Four struck him again, only once he had managed to sit back up. The smug face that tiny, tiny man had made Wars furious. Yeah, he probably deserved it, but he wasn’t going to yield to this coward any time soon.

“You think you’re so cool with your freaky weapon, don’t you huh? Don’t you?”

“Not as cool as you, captain.”

“Oh, har har,” Wars honestly barely registered what Four just said, but that didn’t matter. He was in a battle right now and he was going to win it. “Get ready for my counterattack!” He swiftly put on his gauntlets and pulled out his 8-bit raft, that was suspiciously no longer 8-bit in this time, because it was actually just Hyrule’s raft that he permanently borrowed.

“Is-is that the traveler’s raft?” Four asked, befuddled, “Did you steal his raft?”

“How about you steal yourself for this!” Wars swung the raft at Four, who scurried away just in time. It made a loud bang against the cave wall, leaving a dent in it.

“Why does his raft have so much force?!”

“It’s not actually a raft, good sir!” Wars cackled as he swung again, the raft having a wonderful meeting with Four’s shield.

“Ack! Is-this can’t be metal!”

“Can’t be or can’t comprehend?”

“That makes no sense!”

“You don’t make sense!”

“No you!”

“No you!”

The two glared at each other for a while, unmoving. Then Four started to snicker, then dissolved into laughter.

“Why-hah-why are you-“ Wars burst into laughter as well. He had no idea why or at what was so funny, but he was laughing. He pulled back on the rope tied to the raft, releasing Four as Wars sat down next to him.

They sat and laid there, laughing for no apparent reason. Wars slowly moved to lay down with his friend, trying to stop giggling to himself. And the laughter eventually died down, only a free scattered giggles shared between them, before a period of blissful silence. Warriors listened to the roar of the rain outside of the cave, how it hit the leaves on the trees, how it flooded the grass below. He could hear the faint skittering of a rather large bug behind them. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to deal with that any time soon.

Four started to giggle again, Wars trying his best not to join in.

“What’s so funny, smithy?” Wars asked.

“Heh, steal yourself, good one,” Four answered with a wide smile, giggling. Wars gave into his urge to laugh, running his hand through his hair, then covering his face.

“D-dude, I said that ages ago!”

“I don’t think you know how time works.”

“No you!”

“nO yOu!”

“Oh don’t you get all sarcastic with me!”

“I was sarcastic earlier!”

“I didn’t notice it earlier!”

“I didn’t notice your pun earlier, so take that!”

“I didn’t notice your face!” Wars attempted to smack Four’s face, but ended up hitting the cold, painful cave ground. He swore and clutched his hand, turning away from Four and onto his side. He didn’t know Four could cackle so loudly.

“You-you definitely didn’t notice that!”

“Oh, shut up!” Wars turned over to face Four and tackled him. They scuffled for a while, before collapsing in a huff. Wars tried to keep himself awake, one of them had to be on lookout after all, but his eyelids were growing heavier and heavier. He could feel the rhythmic breathing of Four, who was sprawled on top of him, already sleeping peacefully. Despite how hard Warriors fought, the spindly arms of sleep had him in its clutches, and he could not escape. Sleep came like a graceful monster.

☁︎

The sounds of shouting launched Warriors upright and awake. It also launched Four right off of him.

“Wha happin?” Wars slurred out, looking around with unfocused eyes. It took him a second to notice Four glaring at him from his lap.

“Oh, hey smithy.”

“Hey captain,” Four said with a sigh, “Hey traveler, hey rancher.” Wars turned to where he was looking, and there they were, Hyrule and Twilight, Hyrule holding up his raft and Twilight holding up Wars’ gauntlets.

“I stole your raft by the way.”

“But why?” Hyrule asked.

“Bludg-“ Wars yawned, “-bludgeoning device.” Wars laid back down, closing his eyes, still tired and now at peace since there was no immediate danger. Then, a few moments later, he suddenly was flipped over.

“Get up cap, you can sleep in an actual bed later.” Four twirled around his magic cane, before flipping Wars over yet again.

“…give me the raft traveler.”

“Don’t give him the raft,” Twi told him.

“No no, give him the raft, it’ll wake him up,” Four sneered.

“Prepare yourself fool!” Unfortunately, Warriors was the fool here, because the raft was far too heavy for him without his gauntlets. He could not move. He could only accept the fact of the situation as Four laughed right in face. Wars arms were free enough to use another weapon, however.

Twilight couldn’t help but question when Wars had stolen his spinner.

[ar-ghilas-vir-banal]

Of Mistakes:

Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End

“Da’len.”

She paused, letting her eyes claw away from the parchment before taking in one singular word. It seemed to float about her, indecipherable except to the practiced dreamer’s eye.

The she-elf sighed sharply through her nose, almost amused. But this wasn’t the cheery glow that Fen’Harel coveted from such dreams. No.

This was so very bitter, his own features souring with the taste of anger. And pain. Such old pain from one so young to the world.

The Fade shifted about her, revealing the woman’s hidden, inner thoughts. It felt like an intrusion to him. But he couldn’t stop. There would be no reunion, no possibility of him using this against her.

A part of Solas insisted he would never do such a thing. To Ar’sulahn Lavellan? To his Vhenan? His Sa Lath? But… he would. He had hurt and betrayed her so easily those years ago. Even now, reliving the past through her memories, the way his own guilt clawed at him forced him to stop. To brace his weight on the table near Ar’sulahn’s bed and try to force his lungs to work.

It took several minutes.

As if sensing that he’d lost his place, the Fade “repeated” itself, allowing Ar’sulahn’s thoughts to open up for Solas when he could think again. She could mentally summon her grandmother’s voice from a toddling age, but this word… she’d never heard the woman use it.

Solas sighed heavily. Such callousness. When the woman should have been so very proud.

“Da’len,” she began again, trying it aloud this time to try and read the entire thing all at once. Perhaps doing the thing quickly was the best choice. Like removing a thorn or swallowing a bitter tonic. “Andaran atish’an. It does my heart well to know that you are safe.”

“Sylaise curse you.” Her hand slammed down onto the desk so hard that an ink bottle atop it wobbled and then toppled to the cobbled floor. Solas jumped, despite himself. He’d never seen her react in such a way. With such raw anger.

“What do you know about her, Chuckles? Hm? You have any idea what the word “mistake” means to her?”

Varric’s words echoed in the Fade. Solas’ breath shuddered, his own self confidence wavering. It’d taken him nearly ten years to allow himself to visit these memories. But the sting of them was in no way less sharp. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was doing it. He rarely slept. But… perhaps nearing the end of his journey, he felt he could afford it now.

That’s what he told himself, at least.

The ink bottle shattered, black splashing over stones in a violent explosion. But then it crept, spending its usefulness into the crags between them.

A noise outside the cabin’s door caught both sets of ears, one present in the moment, the other just an observer. Solas didn’t miss that Ar’sulahn remembered knife ears, knives for sound like the blacksmith nearly said, and watched her turn. She was expecting that nervous attendant to scurry away as before. But this wasn’t them. This creature who gently pried the door open was too short and thick of body to be that particular elf.

Far too much chest hair.

“Hey there, Birdie… you okay?”

Varric’s voice was rough as a rockslide but there was something warm and gentle in it that Solas has to admit he’d liked since the moment they met up on the mountain. He sidled into the cabin, the thick golden ring hanging around his neck glittering in the firelight.

“Just… news from home.” Ar’sulahn gave him an attempt at a smile, so strong, but Solas could feel that it didn’t behave properly around her eyes. Too much sadness there. Already. Before he’d barely entered her life.

Was that a relief? That he didn’t put it all there? No, it was far too heavy with regret to be relief. He didn’t heal any of it either. Just… added more.

“Oh, Vhenan…” He reached for her, fingers passing through her tattooed cheek like so much smoke. But he lingers there, the moment frozen for him once more. He’d not recognized this before; he hadn’t been looking for anything.

With a sharp little shake of his head, Solas withdrew his hand. Of course he hadn’t been looking for it. She’d been nothing but another Dalish, steeped in the false memories of her culture, hardly worth paying attention to save the Mark.

She’d been… nothing to him.

“Oh. Everything… okay?” Varric’s voice drew Solas from his reverie again and he sighed, trying to pay attention.

“I… don’t know. Haven’t gotten far enough.”

Varric snorted. “Oh. That kind of home. Yeah. I uh… yeah. You want me to read it?”

“You’re just wanting gossip, aren’t you?”

Solas gave a little laugh at this despite himself.

Varric struck a sarcastic, innocent shrug. “Who? Me?”

“Twit.” But Ar’sulahn flung the letter at him, which he caught. She didn’t know how they’d become such chums up there in the snowy wastes but they had. Necessity maybe. Some little bit of reprieve from all the nightmares around them.

Solas shook his head. Chance and necessity was so at work on that mountain. Upon all of them.

Varric chuckled, sitting down in one of the chairs while Ar’sulah take the bed, drawing her feet up before the fire before massaging them. Solas’ chest ached as he watched her, the desire to pull her to him, to warm her so strong that the dream must pause once more. He knows then that she’d tried to stick to the traditional foot wraps like he had, but she conceded to herself that there must have been something else the slightly haughty, cagey elf was doing because her own toes felt like ice slugs at the ends of her feet.

Solas searched her face again, a smile touching his own. He couldn’t help it. She made him smile and want to laugh even like this.

“A warming spell, Vhenan,” he whispered to her ear, knowing she couldn’t hear. “You were right… ar lath ma.”

Ar’sulahn’s expression didn’t so much as twitch. She was focused on Varric. Listening to the letter. Which was so good of the dwarf to read. Even if Solas turned to listen too with a jealous little huff. If he’d had his own head on straight, he might’ve been the one sitting here. Reading to her. Occupying this attention. When there was such little time allowed to simply… enjoy her.

“Day-lin-“

“Dah-lehn,” Ar’sulahn and Solas corrected quickly, and Solas laughed, pride in the woman sitting beside him on the bed cramping his arms with the desire to embrace her. Then she smirked when she realized Varric did it on purpose.

The dog. It was harmless. But the real envy in Solas’ heart burned like a hot ember.

“Ha ha… anyway.” He read the note, giving it just enough boring drone that Solas could see Ar’sulahn’s mind glide over it. She didn’t think too hard about the person who’d written it. Which was a shame. That was the person Solas wanted to know more about.

“Come now, Vhenan. Show me… Varric is allowed to know.”

Was he truly pleading with a reflection? A memory? But then… did he truly deserve to know her? All Solas had ever done for her is betray her.

His vision blurred with tears and Solas turned away from this corner of the Fade, allowing it’s memories to pass from him. They leeched something from him, a warmth he only felt when speaking or thinking of Arsulahn. The cold left is its absence was unbearable… he needed to see her.

The real her. Or an near to real as he could manage.

His body slipped fluidly from two legs to four, his armor swallowed in a sea of thick black fur. His vision, still smudged with grief, sharpened and took on colors that even his elven eyes couldn’t perceive.

The wolf’s distance devouring stride carried Solas across vast distances. He didn’t pay attention where his feet carried him. The Fade bent to his desires, shaping itself to his purpose. Her scent was all he needed and that was one smell that Solas would never allow himself to forget.

It grew stronger and stronger, a keyhole of warmth, light, home in what had become a shadowed void to him as he ran.

Solas wasn’t expecting the shriek of utter despair that greeted him. He stopped short in his tracks. Just a nightmare. Only a nightmare. But Arsulahn was a mage. Nightmares were as dangerous to her as dreams could be blissful.

She screamed again, this time the flavor of it in his nose and upon his tongue full of pain and blood. “SOLAS!! VHENAN!! Halani…” The word drained out of her, weak and growing weaker.

He couldn’t stand it. What if there were demons? What if they were killing her? Possessing her? And he did nothing?! Surely, she might die when his mission was complete. But… it would be her choice. Not like this. Not like this.

Solas, the Wolf, dove into her dream, into the place where the Fade rippled and shimmered with that light that only Ar’sulahn’s spirit radiated.

The sudden change from the muddled shadows of the Fade to a candlelit room, heady with the scent of blood and chemicals was staggering. Solas caught himself on the edge of a table, hurriedly robing himself in another form so as to adequately hide in the nightmare.

Ar’sulahn’s voice reached him then. She was crying. Sobbing. Solas couldn’t bear it. But he had to.

She was on another table, dressed only in scant underthings. A mage and a nurse stood near her, whispering and shushing her. Spirits of calm and compassion, Solas could see. Dear things. They looked at him and recognized him, and backed away so he could use the bandages in his hand.

Her left arm was gone. Entirely hewn away. There was so much blood… why had they taken more? He could see her bones, sheered off, and her muscles twitching in agony at the severe trauma having been wrought upon them. She was bleeding out. It was his job to staunch the bleeding.

“Hold still,” he told her, hoping his voice didn’t betray how close to collapsing across her and clutching her to him that he was. “I’ve got to bandage this, my lady.”

“Solas,” she whimpered, tears streaming down her face. But then her eyes, which had been squeezed shut so hard that her skin was somehow even whiter where it had wrinkled. “Vh… Vhenan…”

“She’s been drugged a little. To lessen the pain. It’s… affecting her differently. Elven, you know.”

Solas snapped his attention up at someone speaking at the edge of the dream. He couldn’t see them clearly… Arsulahn couldn’t.

His anger ebbed. He had to play his role in the dream, else she’d suspect him. Carefully with deft, tender fingers, he bandaged her stump, murmuring gently to her in the Elven tongue.

“Mm… you’re… Dalish?”

“Yes,” he whispered to her, smiling. It was only then that he realized his face was wrapped in a sheet of some kind. To keep the room as clean as possible. To prevent infection.

To hide him.

Even when he’d at least like to show her a smile. Oh his poor vhenan… “Who… who do you call to? Your vhenan, my lady?”

Arsulahn’s naked brow furrowed, her eyes shining suddenly as she visibly recalled, the haze of medicine bringing an almost childlike expression of hurt and sadness to her face. “It’s… something he called me… thought he was such a sweet talker… just… just a liar.” Her brow pinched together and she heaved in a shuddering, almost sob. “Waste of his time.”

An icy spike of sorrow clove the elf in two, at least, it felt like that. He wanted to fall on his knees beside her. Grip her good hand in both of his own. Beg her to understand. Please know it was never that he didn’t love her. That she wasn’t his heart but his life. His existence. His everything... But wasn’t it what he’d intended? For her to hate him? To run as far from him as she could?

And was she truly? If she was his everything, wouldn’t he stop for her? If she asked? Wouldn’t he���

“A fool of a man to have lost you, my lady,” he finally replied, securing her bandage with bloody fingers that trembled. “You… you must rest now. It’s all over.”

And he dared to touch her. Smoothing the now dark, sweat soaked hair back from her forehead, Solas cupped her both flushed and chilled face with one hand. “You’ll be alright.”

“… do you smell that?” Arsulahn tilted her head back, inhaling. “Pines…” Her greenfire eyes flashed at him, realization and clarity jolting into them.

“Solas!”

Solas ended the dream. It slammed shut around them in a thunderclap of jarring reality. He bolted awake, sweating, droplets rivering down the sides of his face and neck. He was on a stone couch, the only place he’d slept in weeks. The only place he’d allowed himself to. Anymore, all he dreamed of when he did was her…

Then he looked down at his hand. His fingers felt slick still with her blood. Hot. Too thick to be water. But they were clean.

Or were they?

He shivered. They absolutely were not.

[silver-grasp]

The Blacksmith (silvergifting edition)

O, a blacksmith courted me, a hundred years and better He fairly won my heart; we wrought rings together With his hammer in his hand, he looked so clever And as I am with my love, we shall live forever O, whence did my love come, to our forge-smiths’ kingdom? He is from across the sea, bringing with him wisdom He is like the shining sun, so bright and fierce his beauty And our vision of the world, I see reflected to me Strange news is a-come to town, strange news and dour Strange news flies up and down that my love is Gorthaur O, I’ve tried to call him back, though he won’t hear me And though he is still my love, now I know my duty "O, what did you promise me when you lay beside me? You said we’d heal the world, and bring to it beauty." "To bring order through great strength, 'tis the power of the lordly So your rings surrender love, I'll raise you up in glory." "O, my rings you’ll have but none, their art I will deny you, And for all your cruél might, forever I’ll defy you" His lips grew pale and wan; but his heart grew stern and rueful For to think he had loved one, and he proved deceitful O, a blacksmith courted me, a hundred years and better He fairly won my heart; we wrought rings together With his hammer in his hand, he looked so clever And if he were still my love, we would live forever

[soulsxng]

List of Realms pt 6

Just one more after this!

Class 2 - Small Size

Heaven: Another self-explanatory one. Considering it's reputation, most people would think that it's a lot bigger than it is, but that's not the case! It's divided into two main areas, somewhat similar to Hell; the area where souls end up (that again, like Hell, are for sustaining Heaven), and then the main area where the angels live. For a long time, the divinity present within Heaven was too much for most species to bear, and because of this, many of the species that tried to settle there died off rather quickly. Even species that she tried to create alongside Heaven's original god-- her husband Vayon-- succumbed...which left the two of them and their two young children, Metatron and Sandalphon, in the realm alone for some time. Eventually, this made it incredibly difficult for Heaven to sustain herself, and she began to wither...which is when Vayon made the decision to steal raw creationary energy from the Trio, to make a species that would be able to withstand the harsh divinity. Thus, the angels, a species that would quickly be regarded as one of the most powerful in existence, came to be...and Vayon himself, cursed by Creation. Heaven is in an odd sort of in between spot at present, as both Heaven and Vayon (or the man he came to be) both died in the last year or so. However, the realm has a new heart in their youngest child, Feliceon. As she's currently too young to maintain the realm herself, Enoch has bound himself to the Heaven temporarily to help with it until she's a bit older.

Scelure: Most people know this realm for being the home of the largest physical and mental health facility across the realms. At present, if there's something that a healer or doctor can't diagnose/heal/fix, the patient will quickly be pointed to Scelure-- it's considered the most medically advanced realm out there. Another thing it's known for is, perhaps somewhat oddly, the quality of products made by blacksmiths, jewelers, and the like. This is due to the fact that the Terradyn, the main species (or one of the only species, really) that reside in Scelure have an acute skill with plant and earth-based magics; able to call up high quality minerals, stone, and plants with relative ease. One of the most prevalent families here are the Rosaris', who run the medical facility there. Scelure is a dead realm (that was abandoned by its former inhabitants and found thereafter by the Terradyn), and is sustained primarily by a gift from the Pirodeti heart of the Mortal Realm ages ago; a gigantic tree that can be seen from near anywhere in Scelure.

Zindalo: Much like Tenimus is the only realm where the Void can be accessed freely, Zindalo is the only realm where the Lifestream can be accessed freely. It's an exceedingly new realm-- the newest in existence, actually-- and there was a period of time at the beginning where Zindalo was actually considered a major enemy of Heaven, and a small handful of other realms, as the Pirodeti embodiment of the realm essentially stole some of their gods for himself. Even now, it's viewed with a healthy dose of skepticism from those living outside it. The citizens there, however, never seem to have anything bad to say about it, and live their lives in comfort and safety despite the rather high population density. This is another realm that, like Astra'alca and Asedim, can't usually be entered by normal means.

Asedim: Very little is known about the realm of the Djinn, as it is the single most closed off realm in existence. It's not odd for a Djinn born there to never actually leave their home realm; having been convinced that everywhere else is essentially a wasteland, and that anyone that lives in said wastelands is beneath them. Because of the attitude directed towards outsiders that this causes, banishment is one of the biggest fears for the Djinn living there. Once banished, it's likely that a Djinn will never be able to return to Asedim, along with being avoided and belittled by other Djinn. Asedim is, along with the Otherworlds and Brinnela, one of the only three realms that has never been alive; having instead been made by the very first ruler of the Djinn.

[ofsupernovcs]

[ taz skylar | he/him ] Another face is seeking safety in New Orleans. Make sure to welcome LYSANDER CASTRO to the home of the resilient. Rumor has it that they are an 33/53 year old FAIRY , who is one of the RETURNED but we’ll keep that a secret. They are said to be MERCURIAL , but that’s all a façade to cover up their ALLURING nature. We’ve heard that they can be found listening to FALLING TO PIECES by FAITH NO MORE, which sums them up pretty well. Let’s hope that they can find a way to survive this harsh new world.

If Lysander could remember his previous life he would comment it was a simple one from a family or blacksmiths in the Basque

His family were the type of fae to serve loyally to his court, Lysander himself wanting to be a court knight

People would have called Lysander naive, more suited to a blacksmith with his light powers but he insisted on fighting for what is right

And fight honorably he did for his village against others

Lysander felt invincible with his twin sister by his side

But when they attacked, Lysander felt powerless.

The hunters worked fast and swiftly killing and hurting what he knew and love. Including his sister

Lysander succumbed to the wounds, as he lied dying if he could get revenge

And the fairy would spend in the prison world brewing in anger wanting revenge, waiting for his sister who would never come

When Lysander returned he was not the same Lysander, his memories shattered but still feeling an urge to see the world burn and needing something

Meeting Klaus Mikaelson might be a step in the right or wrong direction, but serving him was his honor

Personality:

Because he came back wrong he's a little...messed up

Doesn't mean he doesn't hate the OEA but he would help them to get what he wants (his memories)

He is loyal to Klaus Mikaelson to a weird degree its the catholic knight guilt Im sure

He's chivalarous thats the only good thing about him

Challenging his beliefs about Klaus well.....wont end well for you

He technically remembers the stuff but its more like in dreams and subconcious like not his waking brain if that makes sense.

Remembers basic stuff like he's Lysander, he grew up in a court in Korea, blacksmithing but the spefics are blurred

Gives off self-righteous d*ck vibes, and blood knight vibes

Main elements are earth and light. Cant remember the others

Has a sword on him at all times, knows how to make swords and fix metal objects....Lysander doesnt know why he knows it though

Wanted:

Someone to get a baseball bat and sma-no but someone to help heal his memories would be nice (but if you want to do that I wont object)

All the Mikaelsons for reasons

Friends so he doesnt say he has enough and destroy New Orleans

Someone to make sure he doesnt destroy New Orleans (probably primarly Klaus' job but hey join the club)

Sparring partners

Fairies of course- make it a winx club I beg!!!! We deserve that!!!

Someone to warn his cold cold heart -Lucia techinally

Someone to tell him the Basque is gone

And yeah thats it so far

[glitchbitchwritingblog]

Enora In Skyrim part 3

Three weeks have passed since Tally and Enora became a traveling duo,with Tally being the main one good at fighting off bandits,wolves,and whatever dangers try to kill them along the way, and Enora being the one good at healing and getting them into trouble. The small imperial woman has quickly grown on Tally,her cheerful disposition making even the dreary days of rain and water logged boots happy ones. He also has to admit that she is quite easy on the eyes,and he wouldn't mind making her squeal in ways that'd make Sanguine himself blush. 

One of the things Tally enjoys most about Enora is how she fusses over him and treats him. After every fight he wins,she is there looking him over,gentle hands holding his face as she makes sure he doesn't have any signs of a head injury or any wounds that need tending. When they camp she will make him the best apple cabbage stew he's ever tasted and mend any holes in his clothing that he's gotten in battle or from walking the roads. During the nights at camp she tends to hum or babble about whatever is going on in her pretty little head at the time. 

Currently both of them are camping in eastmarch after having heard rumors of a man having been caught by some thalmor,both of them planning to help said man. Enora is making sure there are no holes in Tally's clothes while Tally warms himself by the fire and eats the soup Enora made from him,a warm pastry full of sweet apples and sugar also on his plate for him to devour.

Enora's gentle humming mixes with the sound of crickets chirping and the fire crackling. Tally finds himself curious about his cute companion and decides to voice a question or two.

Tally: So….I’ve told you about my sisters and parents…do you have any family Enora? Any siblings?

Enora:*Looks up from her sewing with her signature sweet smile,her eyes shining with love and a bit of nostalgia as she thinks of her family* Oh yes! I’m the eldest daughter in my family,but my brother Eli has the title of Eldest Child, I have 3 younger sisters,Mary,Divinia,and Ophelia is the youngest.

Tally: Oh? And your parents?

Enora: They passed when I was 8 years old. See i was born in the Imperial City in quite a lovely house,my older brother said my arrival caused much fuss as my mother’s labor wasn’t an easy one. My mother worked as a secretary for the East Empire Company and my father as a Blacksmith and Jewelry crafter. I was rather close with both of my parents,mama would read to me and let me help organize her books and papa would let me pick which gems to put in the circlets and lockets he would make to sell at upcoming fairs and festivals. *she smiles fondly as she thinks back to her early childhood*

Tally:*a small pang of jealousy hits his heart,but he shakes it off,he’s happy she had a happy childhood* They sound like they were lovely parents. You must have been happy together.

Enora: We were…then the illness broke out. At first it stayed around the docks and slums,then it hit the shopping areas. My baby sister,Ophelia, was the first in our family to get it. She was only a toddler at the time and I remember the fear and hushed whispers of my parents. Mama wouldn’t leave her side,she made her soups and teas and took time off work. The temple healers weren’t sure if she would make it. Then Mama,Mary,and Divinia fell ill. Papa made preparations for me and Eli to be sent away but then he fell ill. Me and Eli did our best to take care of everyone. Ophelia and my other sisters got better,slowly at first and one of the temple priests took them to stay in his home,he offered to take us but me and Eli refused to leave mama and papas side. Then one night,mama’s wheezing went silent…she had asked for me to get her some water,and when i returned she was so silent…I don’t remember what happened after that, Eli says he heard me scream and then a thud. The shock had been too much for me and I had fainted. Papa would pass a few hours later,the temple priests and Eli sitting with him. 

Tally: I’m sorry for your loss…especially at such a young age. As an older sibling I understand the shouldering of responsibilities such as caring for sick loved ones,but I have not yet had to deal with the loss of my parents.

Enora: Its Okay,sometimes i wonder what life would have been like if they had lived but then I wouldn’t have met you. 

After that pretty heavy conversation,Tally and Enora would prepare for bed and sleep for the night. Well Enora slept,Tally stayed up till 4am watching her sleep and thinking about what he had learned about his Enora. She had experienced loss and great change at such a young age,and yet she grew into someone with such a cheerful and kind nature. She didn’t speak often of her family,but then again neither did he. Looking down at her as she slept curled up into his arms, he made a silent vow to not let anyone or anything break her heart,not if he could help it.

[ligawolfcosplayandarts]

Evening of memory lane (ASOIaF AU)

Good! Mountain/Better!MountainAU featuring my own ASOIaF OCs.

Aerin sat on stool, hunched as she focused on sharpening her sword. The tongue slighty out as she did. 

Grumbly, rock hard voice echoed interrupting almost silence that was filled only with sound of sharpening tool against blade. 

"Aeri... Why you don't ask blacksmith of Clegane's keep to do it for you" eight foot tall man asked. 

Aerin raised her face and gave man scowl. 

"It's my weapon, I was brought up to care of me blade. Norlandian need no servant to tend their blades. I'm part of it, if ye didn't know me that much." She said with her soft, honey like voice. 

Gregor shook his head and chuckled. Even his chuckle shook air a little. His yellowish coloured short , leather pants and rather simple looking leather boots matched his aura. He even developed behavior to still have sword on hip, sheathed and ready for any moment. Aerin lowered her gaze and returned back to sharpening her sword. Afterwards she reached for cloth and bottle, filled with oil for polishing. Gregor walked over and didn't say word, but watched Aerin doing her thing. Sword looked rather very new even though it was very same one he gave to her as berothal gift two years ago when he asked Aerin to be his wife. 

" I see why you don't want anyone else to have hands on it... So I am that special to you then?" Gregor Clegane said with small grin, teasing her as usual. Gregor's grey hooded eyes met Aerin's in reflection of blade as he said it. 

Aerin blushed and smiled saying nothing but focusing on her weapon. Moments later she placed it in sheath, that was on her hip. 

"Ya guessed, ya helped me a lot, ya knew what to do to gain my heart which is mostly cold as ice on top of highest mountains" Aerin said as she looked up to Gregor, who stood behind her with hands on his hips. 

She got off the stool and stretched herself as back rather was stiff from hunching. Before she could say a word, she was swept up in one arm and twirled around. Gregor, who is nearly 400 pounds beast of man , had no issue to pick up Aerin, who was maybe 136 pounds at most, when he wanted. 

"You make me weak... Nobody can move The Mountain... But you ... Nobody can melt The Mountain but you .. my eyes grey like ice, yours crimson like fire .. I had to ask Tyrion, son of Lord Tywin, how to say these words.. I will even ditch my loyalty for Tywin Lannister for you... You are person who I would be here for than him" Gregor's voice rumbled as he was still head over heels for Aerin even when they were married for two years, been in love for four. Aerin was a bit shocked, as she was by Gregor's side for years before they grew close. Gregor always treated Tywin Lannister's orders as duty. However, Gregor has grown softer and closer to Aerin. 

Way before Aerin, her mother Freya , the one who noticed his headaches when he was little. He wishes still Freya would be one stopped him from hurting his brother, all because he failed to remember to take medicine Freya made for him. 

**Memory**

Freya Fyorninn was sharpening sword while boy with dark brown hair and grey eyes was in her lap, close to her as possible. She noticed as boy was squinting and scowling while sometimes he grabbed his head. 

"Wee Clegane, are ye good... I can tell ya hurting... Tell me"

Boy first remained quiet then growled as he grabbed head in his tiny hands. Freya put her sword in sheeth and stood up, rushing to her tower, carrying boy with her. 

"Wee lad,tell me, I have Norlandian healing book .. I can help ya" Freya said as she sat him on table. 

"Head... It hurts ... I sometimes get angry and violent... It hurts bad... Milk of Poppy...it helps me wee bit" boy said as he was shaking. 

Freya raised eyebrow and shook head.

"I will get through book, very fast, I can tend ya" she whispered softly while reaching to her medicine cabinet. 

After some moments she figured what Gregor is going through. 

"Boy, ya sit here, I got all ingredients need. But ya will need take it every few years ..." She said as she started gathering jars with various herbs and some animal parts. 

Her prosthetic metal finger , that was functional as her real ones, swiftly went through writing in book. Old Norlandian language, that can't be read by anyone else that Norlandian people. Moments later she has mixed rather goopy yet liquid substance in grey and greenish colour. 

She grabbed little Gregor's head and tilted it back and poured all down his mouth rather fast. Gregor trusted her and even didn't fight her back, but drank the liquid. She kept boy's head in that position looking at him sadly. Gregor has form of growth inside his head causing him pain and anger, but the medicine makes it shrink. Norlandian healer is rather new around here and was very reluctant to help upon this keep being built. Even Freya, who is the one that runs the keep, has no right to force healer to help people of Westeros. Few moments later she slowly sat Gregor up. Boy trusted Freya enough because he was imprinting on her, despite he has both parents in Clegane's keep. Only thing is that father neglecting him and sometimes being drunk, mother is pregnant and busy. Gregor truly saw mentor in Freya and he learned she used to be war general for years. War general , healer abilities and gentle as mother. 

"I want to stay here for night...please...teach me how to fight ..you were knight right ? I want to be one... " Gregor said as he hugged Freya . 

"If ye want Norlandian way, yer training won't be easy" Freya said 

"Please..." Boy looked up to Freya 

Red haired Norlandian woman sighed and nodded 

"Remember, I have babe to tend to, wee Thorkinn, but ya training will happen then... Ya will need give me promise if ya prove to be strong." Freya said 

***

"Clegane!!!" voice interrupted as Gregor snapped back to reality.

Gregor chuckled and shook his head a bit. "Let's go to bed, my wife. Battles maybe are great, but I want be here, in Clegane's keep with you... Let's retire to bedchambers while we have time for ourselves" Gregor said, voice rumbling yet calming. His grey eyes filled with joy.

"I may be The Mountain...but I was Mole Hill once" He blurted out as memories of Aerin's mother echoed in his head.

"Ya really something , aren't ya... I feel tired too" Aerin cupped Gregor's face and pulled his forehead against hers.

Both retired to bedchambers, now he has Aerin asleep on his chest as he looked in ceiling. 

His thoughts focused on coming back to Fyorninn-Norlandian Keep and tell Freya he married her daughter... Being part of Fyorninn family fully is why he wants to be free from Lord Tywin's orders. He has yet to tell her... Maybe eventually.

[wolgerrswraith]

Find the word tag

Tagged by @aintgonnatakethis to find cast, shadow, question, and month

Cast and Shadow (two birds, one sentence)

From Dragon Ronin Chapter 3

Shin stared into the fire for a long moment, the flames casting strange, flickering shadows across his skin as he watched Toshi take the meat off the spit. His lips thinned, his jaw setting with a solid click.

Question

From Bloodbound Hearts

The master blacksmith frowned like a thunderstorm at the question, arms crossed over his broad chest. "Everyone saw you with the Duke's daughter," he said simply. "Everyone."

Month

Also from Bloodbound Hearts

Suzanna was striding along the damp path to the tavern, which owed double that month thanks to an unfortunate incident keeping the owner in his bed for a week. Her father had graciously allowed this time off for the man to heal, doubling what was owed every day until the tavern reopened.

Tagging @fortunatetragedy

[spoiledsunflowerwine]

Do any other whump enthusiasts do LARP? If not, let me try to put you on to it:

LARP feels like heaven for my little deranged heart. I get to pretend I'm living out some of my favorite tropes and not be judged, because everyone else is living them with me.

My character Amos is the only healer in a group of fighters (admittedly my favorite trope). We have a ranger(Carlisle), a barbarian(Raul, my RL boyfriend and in-game husband), a rogue(Levi), and a witch who uses only attack spells(Seraphina).

One of my favorite tropes is the healer being forced to watch their party hurt/die because they cannot help them. In LARP, on more than one occasion, I have found myself targeted by enemies because they know my character is not a strong fighter, and I will be knocked down, unable to heal myself or my allies (and I plan to make a post about one of these scenarios next!) However, another one of my favorite tropes is betrayal, especially when no one else is around to see it happen. I got to experience something like that this event. It went as follows (dramatized in my particular writing style of course):

In the late night darkness, not even the moon was enough to be able to tell friend from foe. Amos could hear shouting from every direction, but he couldn't discern any of his party members from any particular voice. The light of a fire dart briefly illuminated the ground, revealing Levi, unconscious on the ground. Amos ran to him, already beginning to pray to the gods to heal the rogue.

Amos placed his hand upon Levi's forehead. "Levi, by the power of the gods, stand and fight!" Amos whispered in his ear, "Levi, Levi have you seen Raul? Is he alive?"

"I don't know," Levi coughed as he rose to his feet, "He was at the front with the other shield men. I was trying to flank them when I was hit by an arrow."

Amos tried, unsuccessfully, to spot his husband in the darkness. His eye was instead drawn to a colorful robe draped over a kneeling form, the form of a mage from another party.

"Levi, go find Raul! I have to go help Ajax!" The two began running in opposite directions, as Amos once again prepared to heal one of his allies. As he ran, Amos could hear the shouting moving further towards the woods.

"Ajax, are you hurt?" Amos cried, approaching the kneeling mage, "Ajax, look at me, I'm almost out of Favor to heal you, are you hurt?!"

With inhuman speed, Ajax stood and spun, swinging his blacksmithing hammer towards Amos' head. His head swam as he lay on the ground, looking up at his friend. Even in the darkness of night, Amos could see that Ajax's eyes were not his own. His once purple irises were now pitch black, and the grin on his face was unwavering.

"Ajax, it's me! It's Amos! Please come back, please Ajax!" Amos began to shuffle backwards on the ground, in too much pain to stand.

Ajax drew his dagger, and Amos attempted to stand and run. He didn't make it far, maybe five feet before he stumbled and fell back to the ground. Amos started to crawl, and right after Ajax began to giggle, Amos felt a stabbing pain in his lower leg.

"RAUL!!! LEVI!!!" Amos screamed. He knew better than to try to remove the dagger, and he kept crawling towards the longhouse. He could see the lit lanterns through the windows now, a beacon drawing him towards help.

Amos screamed again when he felt Ajax place his foot on his leg and rip the dagger out.

"Heal yourself, devoted," said Ajax, in a voice not his own, "We do so love when they run."

Amos placed a shaking hand on the wound, gasping at the pain, "By the gods, I heal this wound!" He felt the warmth spread from his hand as the wound began to close, and he stood, staring in shock at the possessed body of his friend.

Ajax tilted his head and grinned impossibly wide. "Run."

Amos turned back towards the longhouse, and as he began to run towards it, he saw lanterns moving towards him.

"RAU-" in a second, Amos was knocked back to the ground. He already felt the pain blooming from his back, where Ajax's hammer had hit him. Amos was rolled onto his back, and Ajax straddled Amos' torso, pinning his arms under his knees.

"Looks like alone time is over, devoted." Ajax raised his hammer above his head.

As Ajax swung, Amos heard only one thing before it all went black;

"AMOS!"

[bontensucker]

Under your spell - Part IV

Minors don’t interact

Summary : The great inquisition. In a small village during medieval old time, a  young crusader has been ordained priest. A rumor of a witch cursing the  place with plague has rapidly spread around. To find the witch and put  her at the stake, the holy knight has instilled fear and mistrust but he finds resistance in you. Starting to have dirty thoughts about you, he gets you jailed, so sure you’re the sinner he’s chasing after. But are you really the one you pretend not to be ?

WC :8,3k

Content  : Historical au, angst, names (whore, prostitute), mention of blood and death, death threat, blasphemy, corruption, smut, masturbation, breath play (m!receiving), manhandle, dirty talk, spanking (f!receiving), rough sex, brief mention of anal, breeding.

Pairing : Crusader!Taiju Shiba x Fem!Reader.

🕮  Previous chapter  | 🕮 Next chapter

Time has passed since he left. 

You had so much trouble healing, it took you years. But even if you will never have your skin back to normal, at least you don’t suffer anymore. You just hide your past under bandages.

Your caretaker was a life savior. She came the day after he left and found a broken girl trapped in a broken body. She was the old apothecary’s wife from another village near yours, a chubby woman with a bright smile. Taiju told her what she needed to know and nothing more, but when she saw you with your churned up body, she took pity on you and treated you like you were her own daughter, healing you patiently with kindness and no judgement. She never asked questions, never tried to speak about the priest, she just helped you recover and learn back how to walk. She even asked her cousin, the blacksmith, to make you a cane, so you can walk by yourself in the first times. And she did more than that. 

She taught you how to heal. What plant to cultivate to recover for every known ailment. 

You even occasionally came to help her and her husband at the shop. But the stares and whispers on you were heavy, so you decided to leave.

You said your farewells after almost 3 years with them, and they gave you what Taiju had left for you. 

It was more than you thought. More than you ever had. You could buy a house, even a horse. And you still had money to buy pretty gowns, even those with fur  you only saw on ladies, and still live at least for the next years without any worries. You didn’t even know he was wealthy. 

You didn’t know much about him anyway. He was never a talkative person. The only thing you knew for sure was that he had changed your life forever, with utmost good and utterly bad. 

You travelled south until you reached a city near the ocean. You bought a little farm outside the city, some chickens and ducks, a cow for fresh milk, a horse to ease your moves when you had to buy things in the city, and you built up a garden to cultivate your vegetables and medicinal plants. 

From time to time, people from the city and passing sailors were coming for your help. The rumor spread around, you knew how to heal from the lightest flu to the worst injury. You helped them without asking for anything. It’s not like you needed money. You had enough for yourself.

Late at night, you would limp to the beach and watch the ships coming and leaving overseas. 

Late at night, you would limp to the beach and watch the ships coming and leaving overseas. 

You never opened the book neither. You stopped crying. You stopped suffering. Likewise, you were a little older. A little wiser. 

Where was he, was he still alive, still a priest, still a soldier, you didn’t know. He did what he said, he never came back. 

And even if your heart was heavy from time to time, you would forget about him somehow. His face will start vanishing in your memory and in the end, it will remain like it was just a dream. 

Eventually. 

Today you are making a soup in your chimney when you hear a carriage stops in front of your door and right after someone is banging at it loudly. 

When you open, a very beautiful woman in a large black gown sewn with golden threads and a cross made out of pearls and gold is looking at you. 

« Milady ? » You never saw her face before, but you know she must be from the upper class. What is she doing here ? Those people ask their servants to fetch the doctor when needed. They never leave their lands and castles. 

« Are you Y/n the healer ? » 

« I am, your grace. » 

She looks so exhausted. « I need you ! Now ! Come with me and be sure you will get rewarded. » 

Her desperate look makes you move without a second thought. « Let me take my cape. » 

Once you are ready, she practically pulls you out of your house and in the carriage.

Inside, another man, younger, is waiting, looking even more worried. « Is she ? » 

« She is, my lord. » 

He doesn’t even try to force a smile and once you are seated, he shouts to his coachman to hurry. 

« Do you know the castle near the dark forest? » He asks. 

« I do, my lord. But it is almost two hours of horse riding from the city. » 

« It is. And I am the lord of this land. Now, pay attention, healer. My brother went back from the holy lands and is severely injured. Our physicians could not do anything. If you succeed at saving him by all the saints, I swear you will get rewarded with whatever you ask for. » 

The holy lands.

Your heart starts pounding hard in your chest. The holy lands ! An old anguish comes back to life inside your heart. 

Taiju left for the holy lands.

« What… what happened, my lord ? »

« From what his commander told us, his head got smashed by a catapult mortar. » 

The lady put her hand on his and held back her tears the best she can. « They say the fights have been dreadful there. We lost so much of our holy crusaders. » 

« What ? » You can’t think properly. Your mind refuses to. 

« You have to save him ! I beg you… save our brother ! » 

« I’m afraid I cannot do anything. I can heal a wound, but this is… » 

« You have to try ! As the oldest, he is the rightful heir of our house. He must not die ! » 

Your hand tighten on your cape when you think of Taiju wounded on the battlefield and when his golden pleading eyes meet yours, you nod. 

« Once we arrive to the castle, pray to ask for mandragora sprout and belladonna leafs, I will also need hot water, citrus and linseed. » 

The lord and his sister share a look of hope and nod in a same movement. « Anything you need will be yours. » 

When you arrive to the castle, a servant opens the carriage door. 

« Carry her to my brother’s room! Hurry ! » The lord says before helping his sister out. 

Thankfully, you don’t have to walk all the stairs of the castle. It would have taken you hours with your leg. 

The lady runs to the kitchens, while her brother sticks with you. When you are placed in the bedroom, you see a man with no face on the bed. Half of his jaw is missing and his full head his bandaged. 

You lean on his chest and try to hear his heartbeats. 

But there’s none. « I cannot hear his heart. Take off his clothes, please. » You ask a servant. 

The lady enters the room with her maid and everything you asked for.

« We are here, brother. » The lord says, holding the crusader’s cold hand on the bed. 

You wet your hands and place it on his heart, but you cannot feel anything. It’s too late. 

« I’m afraid, the crusader is already gone, your graces. » 

The lady falls to the ground and cry out in pain, and you don’t know why, but this sounds so familiar. 

You let them cry their dead and take your leave without asking for anything. There’s nothing you could have done for this man. 

You ask for your cape before walking home. When the servant comes back with the cloak, he put it on your shoulders gently. 

« This is strange. » The man says looking at you. 

« I beg your pardon ? » 

He shrugs and look at your cape. « Is it not too oversized for you ? » 

Your eyes slowly look at the cape that has been his, once.

« And it is a knight coat if I remember correctly ? Is your husband a crusader too ? » 

He smiles at you, you can see he is interested. You hide your right side without noticing and turn around. « No. I know no crusaders...and I paid the highest price for this one. Farewell. » 

« Is that so ? It looks just like his...amusing. You also have the same coat of arms, oh and the emblem of the regiment is also the same as our now gone master. »

You lift your head and turn around. « What did you just say ? »

« Your emblem is the same as our master’s regiment. »

« Coat of arms. You said it was the same as your master ? » 

You grab him by the arms and feel your heart beats fast.

« Not of this house. It is- it is…the commander’s coat of arms. The one who came back with the gone lord. He had the same bearings on his cape. » 

« Was his name Taiju Shiba ? Was he a priest ? I mean, a crusader ? I mean, a man of God ? » 

Your body starts shaking uncontrollably while your nails dig in the poor man’s arms. 

He looks at you stunned. « I do not know, miss. He barely stayed. He just went to give the lord and the lady their brother back. » 

« Tall, really tall, build up, long hair with golden eyes and a very angered look. Was it him ? » 

« Yes ! Would you let go of me, miss ? It hurts. » 

« Where is he now ? Still in the castle ? WHERE ? » You shake him, not knowing what you are doing. You just need to know. If Taiju is back, you need to know. 

« Please miss ! » He pushes you off him and starts to fix his clothes. He sights and says « He is not. His ship left two days ago for the holy lands. I do know that, milady ordered me to provide supplies for their trip. He just stayed a night with some other soldiers, and they left early in the morning. This is all I know. »

« He… he left ? Did he say where in the holy lands ? Did he say anything ? » Your eyes start watering from the overwhelming news and the servant look at you uncomfortably. 

« Beg your pardon, as a lord commander he was the guest of our master. I am not allowed to talk to them directly. But I guess he went back to the battlefield with his troops. »

You turn around and make a hurry out of the castle.  « I thought you knew no Crusaders ?! » 

But you don’t hear him. Your mind is far gone. He is alive. Taiju is alive ! 

You walk for a long time until home. And the only thing you have in mind is to find him. You thought you were resigned to forget about him. But something started to resonate in your body when you heard about him. Something you didn’t felt for a long time. 

Hope. 

And now the urge to see his face again, to hear his voice, to feel his skin is unbearable. And you can't think about anything else. No why, where, when. Just him. His image is becoming clearer again, flash of him is bugging your mind and turns to obsession. His rough stare, his warm voice, his dry lips opening to let out a sight before the worst comes out of his mouth. And his palm, his fingers, his whole body merging with yours, flesh...to...flesh. 

Once you get to your farm, it’s already late at night. 

But you don’t mind. You grab a bag and put some clothes and some of the gold you kept hidden under your wooden floor. You are so tired. Walking has become difficult on a long distance because of your limping. But you need to move. You have too.

You take your horse and ride as fast as you can. When you reach the dock, you ask every sailor who crosses your path until you find a boat departing for the holy lands. 

« Sorry, miss, we don’t sail with women on board. » The captain says. 

« I will pay you ! I have money. »

He laughs at you. « And what a woman like you is going to do over there anyway ? You do know it is a very dangerous place ? The nuns might come to heal the soldiers, they’re assured to be treated fairly and protected by the crusaders. But a young woman like you… and alone… » His hand touches your hip, and you push him away. 

« Do not touch me ! » You take the purse with all the gold you carry from your belt and throw it at his chest. « A hundred, for you. And you will bring me to the holy lands. Take it or leave it, but if you dare to touch me once again, I will show you what a young woman can do. » 

He looks at the gold for a moment and sight. « We weigh anchor tomorrow before the dawn. Be there or we are leaving without you. » 

It took you five more days to finally reach the land. 

When you arrive, you’re stunned to see a city really different from what you know. A lot of people with different cultures, habits, languages live here peacefully it seems, and you wouldn’t think somewhere not far away, armies of infidels are fighting the holy crusade. 

You ask here and there, where the Crusaders camp is located, and you start walking.

Nothing could stop you. You will cross a continent if you have to. 

You walk straight during a day, not feeling the exhaustion arrassing you, until you finally reach the camp. And it’s not what you expected. There’s so much tents, men and war engines everywhere. 

You can hear suffering growls and cries coming from different places. Blood mixed with steel is in the air, and you have to cover your nose, lifting your dress a bit because of the dirt and mud. 

You walk past a few soldiers looking at you in confusion. 

« Good day, soldiers, I am looking for the commander’s tent. » 

They look at each others, not understanding. « Which one ? Some are dead, some are still on the battlefield, some are preparing for the next battle. Who are you looking for ?»

« Huh I-» 

« What a female is doing on the camp ? » 

You turn around at the rough voice behind you, and he grabs you by your arm. The soldiers instantly get up to attention. 

« Sorry, captain, this woman is looking for a commander. » 

« Did you not hear the orders ? No prostitute allowed on the camp! This is a holy war, and you are fighting in the name of our saint mother the Church. Come with me woman, I will deal with you later, soldiers ! » 

He grabs your bandaged forearm and drags you with him. You gasp at the touch and try to free yourself.

« Why are you here ? Lurking for some officer's pay ? We do not want a prostitute to corrupt our army. Are you  not ashamed of you ? » 

You try to stop him, but the captain is so angry, he tightens his grasp on you. 

« Let me go ! I am not a prostitute ! I am here to see the commander Taiju Shiba ! » 

The man stops immediately and  looks at you stunned. « Pardon me ? Did you say the Commander-»

« Taiju Shiba yes ! I am here to see him. »

He stares at you from head to toe with a skeptical look.

« I am his aide and he never told me he was waiting for someone. Who are you to him ? »

You lower your eyes. Oh. Who are you to him? 

You don’t even know… you never knew.

« I am a… » Friend ? Lover ? One-night stand ? Acquaintance ? « ...relative. » You say after a moment of hesitation. 

The captain let go of you and frown. « A relative, huh ? ». He doesn’t believe you, you can tell. « Follow me. » 

You try your best to keep up as he walks fast in the huge camp, but you’re slower now your leg is burned. 

As you walk to a central and bigger tent, your heart starts to pound rapidly. It has been years since you last saw him. Is he still the same ? Will he recognize you ? How will he react ? 

Your heart his making so much noise when he tells you to wait, you think you’re going to do a cardiac arrest. 

He comes back just a moment later with another man, much older than him, wearing red clothes behind his armor. 

This is indeed a cardinal. You bow in front of the prince of the church. « Your grace. »

He put his hand with a huge ring on top of your head. « May God bless you, my child. Pray to tell me who you are and what you are doing here ? »

You take a deep breath. You didn’t go to church since you’ve been excommunicated. But you can’t bring yourself to tell him you’re not one of his lambs anymore because of the man you are here to see.

« I humbly came to see the Commander of the Holy Crusade, Taiju Shiba, your grace. » 

« And you are ? »

Can you really lie to a prince of the church ? 

« I-I… my name is Y/n your Grace. I am a… relative. » 

The cardinal and the captain glance at each other with furrowed browns.

The old man uncomfortably clear his throat and crosses his fingers on the precious cross he bears around his neck « This, is uncommon, my child. Battlefield is not a place for a woman, even when it is one of our holy knight’s… dearest…sister ? I presume ? »

You lower your gaze again, but don’t deny. 

« I know, I do know your grace, and God forgives me for indulging myself here. But I made a long way to see the commander, it is important.» 

The Cardinal looks at Taiju's aide. « Where is the knight, captain ?”

“He his leading the troops on the battlefield, your Holiness.”

“Fetch your lord commander and bring him to the war council. » 

« At your service. » Says the aide before turning heels. 

« Come with me, my child. » 

You follow the old man in the tent and freeze. Five men are seated around what seems to be a map of the land, where they are moving flags and miniatures. They are all dressed with their armors. Some even still have blood and dirt on them.

You stay at the entrance, bowing. « My lords. » 

« Come, my child. Do not fear. These are your brother’s comrades, the lord commanders of our great army. » He sits in his chair, at the end of the table, and you realize he must be the holy army’s leader. « We are still waiting for our three last commanders to come back from the battlefield if the Lord does not call them back to his side. Take a seat. This one is your brother’s. » He says, pointing at an empty spot between two men where Taiju is gathering before the battle. 

You sit, and the Cardinal do a sign to a servant for him to give you water. « Are you coming from the old land ? You must be tired after this long travel. »

« Worry not about me, your grace, I do not deserve such attention. »

« What happened to your arm, milady ? » Asks a commander looking at your bandaged right arm. 

You hide it under the table and try to avoid their gaze. If they knew, most of them would pull out their sword on you. 

« Now, now, pray not to afraid our guest lord commander. »

The crusader immediately asks for the Cardinal’s forgiveness. Not yours. 

After a moment, a man enters the tent, gives his long bloodied sword to a servant running to his way, and go directly to wash his face in a bassinet without looking at the others. His heavy armor is covered in blood, but you recognize his cape before him. 

« I pray your Holiness to forgive me for my late appearance. My aide told me you required my presence, but the maneuver was still on going in the bat- »

He stops to talk when he turns around, and you straighten up in his sit. 

His piercing gaze on you makes your heart flutter, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him anymore. 

He opens his mouth and close it again. He looks at you and the cardinal back and forth. His jaw clench, and you can see he’s trying so hard to keep is composure.

« Who did you say you were, my dear ? I think the sister ? Yes, your sister is here. It is indeed unexpected, and I would not allow a woman in the camp otherwise, but she told us she had an important matter to discuss with you. » 

« I do not know this woman. » His tone his firm, he avoids your eyes to focus only on the Cardinal. 

« Is that so ? » The man in red says calmly. « All of you, out. » The war council is immediately dismissed, and you stay alone with the cardinal and the crusader. 

« Your Holiness I- »

« Silence ! » The old man’s sympathetic behavior change to a much colder one. « I warn you commander, one more lie and I have her arrested and pray to believe, she will never see the daylight again ! Now, we both know she has nothing to do with lady Yuzuha, so I presume she is the one you confessed about years ago ? » 

He lowers his gaze in what seems to be shame. « Answer me holy knight ! »

« She is, your Holiness. »

« How dare you bring your excommunicated whore in my camp, on the very sacred land of our holy army and lying to my face on top of it ? I should have you both hang up right away in front of everyone for your blasphemy ! »

« I deserve no mercy. This is my fault. This woman has nothing to do with this, I am the only sinner here and my life is yours to take as your Holiness will command. » 

« Bend the knee when you confess, crusader ! » 

Taiju immediately put a knee down, his arm rest on the other, but you can see his fist is tightly shut as he tries to control himself, looking at the ground. 

« Forgive me your Holiness for I have sinned. » 

« And what did you do ? »

« Nothing. » Your voice is heard for the first time since he came in and the cardinal looks at you, but Taiju keeps his head down despite the anger painted on his face. « He did nothing wrong. I chose to come here. I wanted to see him. The knight did not even know I was coming. This was my will, my decision, not his. » 

« Is it the truth, lord commander ? » 

You know he’s having a hard time by the way his teeth grit. He could have you in trouble if he tells the truth, but he would sin to his confessor and a prince of the holy Church if he doesn’t. 

« No, it is not. I summoned her in my dreams. The angels must have mistaken my thoughts for wishes and put them in her mind. I am the one to blame, and I am ready to receive my punishment for my impure dreams, your Holiness. »

Your heart tightens up when you hear his confession. He still thinks of you. But when you understand what he is ready to do to protect you, you can’t stay quiet. 

« NO ! » You stand up from the chair, but the cardinal looks at you with a cold stare you have already seen before. 

« Sit down woman, and do not interfere in this confession anymore, or it will cost you, you have my word. » 

« But -» your breath is taken away when you see the exact same vein of anger on the cardinal ‘s forehead, and the resemblance is now striking. 

His focus is back on the crusader, and he frowns. « What else did you do ? » 

Even if Taiju doesn’t look at you, you can feel him becoming embarrassed in front of you. 

« I touched myself, thinking of her body. » 

« Dear Lord… » The Cardinal’s face shows only restrained anger. You can tell he is really upset when you are all giddy by his confession. « When ? » 

The crusader takes a moment to answer. It seems so hard for him to take the words out of his dry mouth. « Several times. » 

« BALONEY ! » The cardinal explode and hit the table with his fist so hard it makes you jump on your seat. « You are one of the great lord commanders of our holy army, a priest I personally ordained and a servant of God. You are forbidden from any pleasure except worshiping the Lord’s name, do you hear me ?! » 

He stands up and comes to take the crusader’s jaw in his hand, harshly. « You told me what you did when this war started and to prevent you to go to hell if you were to find death on the battlefield, I absolved you. And yet you dare to sin in your thoughts and actions when you should thank me and the Almighty ? If you were not my nephew, I would have you whipped until there is no flesh left on your back for your felony ! » 

He goes back to his seat furious and turn around « I SHOULD SUBJECT YOU TO A TRIAL BY ORDEAL ! » 

Taiju slowly lift his head and looks at you and only you. « My life is yours to take. » 

You watch him with your heart missing a beat, and this is the first time you can clearly see his face in years. It has changed too. More than yours. He got a scar made by a blade which depart from the left corner of his mouth and ends up on his neck. It must have been painful, you think. He also has another scar on his face, a deep cut right above his right brow, and another one show on the side of his neck and disappear behind his armor, on his chest.

His hair is a bit shorter, he must have cut it sometimes ago, and it started to grow back.

But he looks handsome to you. He is still the same tall, severe, built up man you once held tight against your body.

You just want to touch him, to take him away from all of this, to tell him it’s going to be okay now. You will take care of him and him of you. But this is not him, and you know by the way he looks at you this will never be. 

« Leave us alone. I need to speak to the lord commander in private. » 

You can’t do anything but obey, and you look at the crusader one last time before going out of the tent.

The cardinal frowns and shake his head. « You do know I expect to be the next pope when our dear holy father will be called back to our Lord side and I plan on giving you the cardinal’s bar as my heir ? »

« I do, your Holiness. » 

« If the Church comes to learn my own nephew is a sinner, everything that our family had worked so hard for will be pointless ! I want you to be the man we decided you would be the day my sister birthed you. Your siblings are now fairly married and doing their duties. You must do your share for the sake of our lineage. »

Taiju lower his gaze and do not answer. The cardinal looks at his nephew, speaking his next words in a calm yet cold tone.

« This is not going to happen if you do not put an end to whatever is going on with this woman. Even after all these years, she clearly has you still wrapped around her finger, but do not be tempted to put a ring on it. You know you cannot do such thing. You have to get rid of her, or I will be taking care of this situation myself. » 

« You cannot- »

« Oh I will, if I have to. Indeed, no harm will be done if you do what you have to. But if you persist, I will finish what you started. »

Taiju closes his eyes, remembering your cries when the fire burned you. It was the most horrific sound he ever heard in his life. 

« I need time. Pray to give me a week to safeguard a way out of the holy lands for her, your Holiness. » 

« You have three days. » 

The crusader stands up and bow. He knows this is the cardinal’s final word. 

Before he leaves the tent, the man in red adds « Taiju. I would have let you marry… if you were not part of greater plans, I would have, believe me. But not to her. She is no lady, and I would have not allowed you to corrupt our bloodline with a lower cast. You are in no way made for each other. Now, do what you shall and come back where you belong.»

« Your Holiness. » He bows his head respectfully before leaving the tent. 

He lifts you from the ground the moment he sees you, not saying anything, and carry you bridal style to the camp. 

You don’t try to fight back and let him do what he wants, but you are not touching him. It’s more like he’s carrying an injured damsel. 

The soldiers on the camp make way and stand up straight when he walks past them.

When he arrives at an alley with bigger tents than the others on the camp, you understand this is probably the officer’s quarters. 

He bends over to go through the entrance of his tent and put you down. You look around to find a table with a chair where he works on, a bed on the floor with furs and various cushions and in the center of the tent, a large carpet made from a black bear’s fur. 

When you look at him, you’re prepared for his rage, you already know he is mad at you and probably is about to tell you that you should have never come here. 

« I know what you are going to say. » 

« No, you do not. » He replies immediately with a harsh voice. 

You lower your head, feeling like a kid being scolded. His tone is so cold. You knew he wouldn’t be exactly thrilled to see you here after what he told you when he left, but deep down, you were hoping he would at least be fine with it.

« Damn it, you have no idea ! » He says, gritting his teeth while running a nervous hand in his hair.

This is the first time you hear him swear, and you don’t know what to do. Should you leave ? Should you stay and try to talk about what you heard ? Maybe you should have just remained silent and away from what really matters to him. Now you are not so sure, it was a good idea to come anymore.

You feel your eyes watering, and you don’t want to show him how it affects you. You’ve never been one to cry in front of the others. You start to limp to the exit before you can’t keep it anymore, but he grabs your wrist and makes you turn around. 

He puts his hands on your cheeks and crashes his lips on yours, deepening the kiss immediately. You moan in his mouth when you find back the sensation of his scent, and you close the gap between you two, putting your arms around his waist. He is so eager, you can barely breathe, but it feels so right, you find back that feeling only him was able to make you feel, and it was worth every pain, every effort you have put up since you started to move.

His armor his dirty and cold, it stinks with terror and death of gone enemies, it spreads on your dress, but you are so happy to feel him again. So happy he still wants you after all these years.

He breaks the kiss just a moment later, not letting you the time to really enjoy it, and takes a step away.

Back is the cold and distant knight you met the first time. You know he couldn’t control himself at the moment, but his head his still full of remorse and fear of God. 

« Taiju… » You call for him gently, but he avoids your eyes like he can't stand to hear his name in your mouth. 

« Wait here. » He leaves the tent, not letting you the time to say anything else, practically running out of the place, and you. 

He leaves for an hour, you sat on the chair, tired. You’ve barely slept this past days and your right leg hurt like hell, now you're finally still. 

When he comes back, he has changed. He doesn’t wear his regular chain mail armor but a more light and discreet black leathered one and a long black coat on his left shoulder. 

« We need to leave. » 

You look at him in confusion when you see him packing his sword and some of his belongings. 

« Where are we going ? » 

« To the city. You cannot stay here. » 

He barely looks at you. You know he’s probably uncomfortable because you are the cause of his sins, but you don’t want to back up.

You follow him outside just to find his aide waiting next to his black stallion.

He rides his horse and held you his hand for you to take. You are a bit confused, as always he barely spoke, and you don’t even know what are his plans. But you trust him.

You trust him with your life. So you take his hand and let him drag you up to sit sidesaddle just before him.

Far away you can spot the cardinal looking at you too and Taiju bows his head before leaving the camp in a hurry. 

The horse runs fast while you put your head on his chest, and you close your eyes to the regular sound of his heartbeats. 

You are so tired, so overwhelmed. You can’t bring yourself to speak or to do anything, you just let the rhythm of the horse’s hooves rock you, and you close your eyes just for a bit.

You feel him held you closer, and you know you can delay the talk you two need to have just a bit more.

When you open your eyes, you can see the lights of the city in front of you. The horse reaches it some minutes later, and Taiju makes him walk until you stops in front of an ancient roman house with high walls and heavy doors. 

“Where are we ?”

He makes you slide carefully off the stallion before he does. “It’s one of the crusaders' residence.”

He bangs at the doors and a nun comes to open, bowing once she sees the holy knight. 

“Lord Commander ?” 

“Prepare two bedrooms for my guest and I, sister. We are staying the night.”

He gives her a parchment with his family’s coat of arms, and she looks at you in confusion. But Taiju doesn’t let her think too much as he puts his palm on the door and push it open.

When you come in you can’t do anything but lift your head looking at the magnificent architecture well-preserved. You are in a square yard. Some servants are walking on the opened corridor in second floor and another nun is already coming your way. 

“Pray to take care of our guest, sisters. Take her to her room, give her new clothes and food, bath her, put her to bed and lend me a servant. I need to send a missive before tomorrow. »

He obviously doesn’t want to stay with you, and you look at him disappointed, not daring to speak in front of the nuns. They bow at him respectfully, and you are taken to the kitchens, looking at the soldier of God above your shoulder. He doesn't stay focused on you and make his way to the opposite with a man carrying the cape and sword Taiju gives him.

The nuns let you eat a warm bowl of boiled meat, bread and vegetables, welcomed by your empty stomach. When you are full, they take you to your bedroom, decorated with a mythological fresco and a wooden bed with white sheers. A bath is already filled with hot water in the middle of the room by a servant, and they help you out of your clothes and bandages before washing you as the commander ordered. 

They don’t talk. Not a single word is spoken, but you can see them exchange several glances when they put the sponge on your burned body parts. 

Once it’s done, the help comes with a long white and almost transparent nightgown, and put you to bed. 

One of the nun put new bandages for you to put on tomorrow morning then blows out the candle, and they leave you on a comfortable yet cold bed alone in the dark. 

This is not what you wanted. You miss his warmth. You miss his voice and stern look. Furthermore, you know he will not dare to come here. It’s not a church, but it stays a sacred house blessed by God. Nuns are obviously running and taking care of this place for the crusaders. 

But...

You try as much as you can to fight the urge to see him, and you turn in the bed without finding sleep nor peace. 

You decide to stand up, and light the candle before sneaking out of your bedroom. You know this is not a smart idea, you know you’ll piss him off even more, but you are determined to finally have this talk you need to have with him. 

Everything his dark outside. It’s already late, and they are all sleeping by now. But not you. You walk randomly from a door to another with the hope to find the room you are looking for, but when you finally do, he's not inside. You can see his belongings, his armor and his sword, but he’s nowhere to be found. 

You decide to go downstairs, and you spot a light under a door that you past open quietly. 

Inside it’s a huge room with column and light steam coming from a roman bath in the center. Your cheeks burn out when you realize you have no right to be there. 

He’s here, his body partially emerged in the hot water, sat in a stone bench with his arms spread open to make him comfortable. His eyes are closed, and you think he could be sleeping. 

But he’s not. When you put a foot on the first step, the water starts to move calmly, and he open his eyes to meet yours. 

He doesn’t say anything, just looking at you, but it’s enough for you to understand he’s not pleased to see you here. 

You put the candle on the ground and enter the bath, the waters comes to your belly and wet your nightgown, making you almost naked before him.

He closes his eyes, refusing to look at your body and let his head go back on his muscular shoulders. He knows, no matter what he'd say, you are not going to listen. You never did, why would it be otherwise this time ?

But your thought are far away from his. He’s so beautiful to you, with all the scars on his body and face, his hard shaped muscles and his calm yet tense posture. 

When you are in front of him, you take the hem of your nightgown and lift it enough for you to sit on him.

You can already feel his manhood touching your sweet lips, and his fists curl at the feeling.

You put your hand on his cheek, and he opens his eyes to look at you. But still, he doesn't speak. It didn’t have changed much since the last time you met. 

You missed him. So much. If he has the control not to touch you, it’s not the same for you. You need to feel him. You need to touch him, to kiss him. 

You try to but his head turns to the side, not allowing you, and you end up kissing his neck. Your hips start to grind on him, you can feel your pussy quivering above him, feeling his dick getting hard without his consent, and you let your hips roll back and forth and slide his length carefully between your lips.

He let out a long breath, closing his eyes again, and you chuckle in his neck.

God, you missed him so much. Now you crave his touch. You want him to look at your body, to put his fingers deep inside your already slick hole, aching to be filled with his thick cock. You take off your clothe, put your hand in the water, coming to caress his hard shaft, throbbing obscenely the moment you touch him.

He growl lightly, his brows furrowing when you put your thumb on the slit of his cock head and your four other fingers press hard around his girth. 

How greedy you are now. You never had another man, no one touched you but him, and he knows it. You hope so. “Only you.” You whisper in his ear, and you see one of his hand moving to your body before he decides against it and put it back where it was. 

Your cunt is still rubbing against his dick with the help of your hand wrapped around him, leading him between your legs to your hole and tampering your folds with the tip.

It must be torture to him, but since he decided to play hard to get you’re not going to spare him. 

You heard his confession. You know he masturbated thinking of you. 

“When was the last time you did it ?”

He tries his best to regulate his breath, but the pressure you put on him is almost unbearable. You may not be a witch, but your spell on him is real, and he knows that. 

“A week ago.” He whispers in a grown when he feels you rubbing his cock head against your clit.

You smile and put his tip at your entrance. “I thought crusaders were forbidden to lie ?”

His head lay back on the concrete while his hips are rising to bury himself inside you more. But you don’t allow him.

“Two days ago.” He finally admits in a deep breath. 

You close the gap between your bodies and let your breast flush against his torso. The moment you do, you feel him pulse in your hand, and you smile. 

With your other hand, you come to find his throat and squeeze it lightly. 

“What were you thinking when you touched yourself, Lord commander ?”

He frowns, not answering, and you squeeze harder, still sliding his fat cock head up and down your folds. 

You bend to his ear and whisper, “Do you want to feel how wet I am because of you ? How you could ruin my tight little cunt with that hard throbbing cock of yours ?” 

He tries his best not to answer, but his head nods slightly and yours start to spin around. “Then answer me. What were you thinking when you touched yourself ?”

You apply more pressure between your legs closing them to deny access, and you choke him with all your strength, sending electric waves in both your bodies. 

His eyes shot open when he starts to miss air and his hands grabs your hips roughly. He's not playing anymore. 

“Do you want me to show you ?”

He unwraps your legs from his heavy waist and don’t let you the time to process. You find yourself pushed against the bench he was sitting on, and he’s behind you. 

Your mouth opens when he grabs both your wrists in his palm and slap your ass with the other. 

Your face hit up when you feel him push inside you in one thrust, splitting you open on his dick. He doesn’t let you time to adjust and starts to pound hard inside you. 

The wet sound of your body is echoing inside the bathroom, with the statues of ancient deities looking at you. 

You moan loudly when he tightens his grasp on your wrists in your back, and he fucks you hard, withdrawing his dick from your cunt before slamming back inside roughly. “This is what you wanted, huh ?” 

You shake your head, moaning at every thrust, and he slaps your ass cheek harder. “Now, who is lying ?” 

You tighten in purpose around him, and he growls loudly, going even harder inside your drenched cunt. Even in your intercourse, you two are fighting.

“You little whore... are you trying to make me come fast ?” You get another slap on your ass, and he has to slow down not to come when you squeeze him hard between your warm walls. 

He lower his gaze to see a white ring of your arousal around his cock, and he breathes hard, yanking your hair from behind and tightens his grasp on your wrists so much, you are sure there will be bruises in the morning here and the print of his hand on your ass. 

He leans on you and whispers, “You can moan all you want, the walls are thick, woman.”

So you let it go. You know he likes to hear you moan for him, and if you have to sin here, you’re going to do it right. 

“Taiju... harder... oh yes...more ! ” This is what years of pent-up frustration has done to both of you, and you can’t do anything but to want him to shape your insides with his cock. Your perverted moans make him wants to fill you to the brim, and he can’t stop his hips to slam against your ass. 

A shiver run down his spine when he feels your walls fluttering around his cock. He let go of your wrists and hair and grabs your hips, merging his fingers with it while he bully your sweet spot and cervix again and again, making you mistake pain and pleasure until there is none to define at each thrust. 

You let your cheek rest on the stone and put your hand between your legs, but he forbids you immediately. “You wanted me to fuck you like a whore ? Then you are going to come like one.” 

He slides one of his fingers inside your ass, while stretching you to the point you think you’re going to break and rub his other thumb on your clit at the same time, thrusting in and out of you at a fast pace. 

It’s the same feeling you find back inside you. It has been years since you had sex with him, but it didn’t change. Eveytime he touches you, you think you’re going to die in a pure bliss. 

He makes you come hard on his dick before you feel his pace resuming as he pours his hot seed directly deep in your womb without any warnings.

He let his body falls on yours, his forehead on your back, and you have so much trouble to take your breath back to normal. 

He stays inside you a bit and when he pulls out, his cum slowly oozes out and along your thigh. “I beg your pardon Y/n... I lost my mind at the sight of your charms.” He says after a moment. 

He sits down in the water and make you sit on him to bathe you in a smooth aftercare.

“No, I enjoyed it too… God, I missed you.” You say, embarrassed, nudging your face in the crook of his neck. 

He chuckles and hold you tight in his arms while he kisses your forehead. 

“I thought of you on the battlefield.” He lower his gaze, his voice becoming barely a whisper. « It kept me alive. »

Your smile lights your face up when you hear him, and you carefully raise your head to kiss him gently as you draw your untold three secret words against his sacred lips. 

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