#looking forward to doing another prompt tomorrow mayhaps???

[towersofviolet]

v v v pleased that i managed to write something tonight. i made a lil game out of it where i wrote down a bunch of media and characters and locations, and did a wheel spin to generate a prompt for myself. i successfully completed a short (800-word) fic and the experience wasn't terrible. my war against decade-long writer's block rages on.

[bloodsworn-marshal]

FFXIVWrite2022: Prompt 20

Writing Prompt: ANON Words: 679

Seven hells… what a day.

Peace restored at last and world’s doom put to an end, the worst of one’s days fell into that of simple loathings of the ordinary. The repetitive motions that one might expect of an office job no less. After all… there was naught of late that quite required their military might.

No. Not at all. Hard decisions that at one time might affect the entirety of their realm… had now fallen into menial, cumbersome tasks. Meeting after meeting while hardly setting a foot onto the field. Pipin Tarupin’s life now revolved around paving the way for a bright new future—painful as it was to get lost into the rules of politics and the like.

Twas a mix of his usual day to day. Providing orders to the Commander who would there in relay said orders to lieutenants and captains. Deal with any new recruits that may be showing promise or falling behind. Take on the duties of his other titles as that of the Sultanate, a Bloodsworn, technically a Sultansworn too. Mentions of what they would be doing with the open chairs on said Sultanate or how the rules might change going forward.

Lately he’s holed himself up in the gladiatorial coliseum. Taking on yet another role in his life. Without need for war against other countries, they were setting the Flames up for something different. What yet, no one exactly knew other than Pipin having big plans for it. Spending what free time he had during the day in there and away from all other office responsibilities.

An excuse the hone his blade and train in private? Very likely. Amongst other things of course.

Either way… yes. A long day indeed. As were the rest of his days of late! From one thing to the next. Everything that had been put on hold in the last half decade more or less, after the Garlean’s first intrusion, to the saving of their world. All that had bene put to a halt now escalating at a rapid pace as those of influential power wished to bring in the reigns on legislation.

After each day of running around doing this and that… he tired. It wasn’t like the amount of effort he exerted on the battlefield, fighting for his life. This was something more like a slow death with no way of fighting back with typical means. Signing so many reports and documents… stacks upon stacks of papers that never seemed to end. Not to mention the amount of anonymous letters that arrived day to day from Ul’dah’s ladyfolk interested in talking shop with the General… or to get close in general.

Yet none were answered nor returned. After all… he had a lovely little face he got to see at each day’s end. One of the sole reasons he looked forward to time after work.

“I’ll meet you at the usual place anon.”

“See you soon.”

Plain words spoken over linkpearl should one dare try to overhear. But once Pipin had left for the day and headed down the streets of Ul’dah, he found himself turning the ever familiar corner to a nice little business gaining popularity of late. The shop having recently closed for the day mayhaps half a bell prior, with the owner waiting outside for a certain someone.

They shared friendly smiles and warm greetings. Heading down the same path homeward with some exchanges here and there and little else. Not until they left public eye’s view… where hands interlocked in loving embrace. A sharing of sweet little kisses at day’s end as they enjoyed the rest of their evening.

Whether it be a walk around the block, resting tired feet at the brimming heart’s pools, or even if they were to immediately head on home… they spent their time together efficiently as they would their day job. Cherishing one another’s time as they spoke of their day, what they’d like to do on their off day, what they’ll try doing for dinner…

With promise to do it all again tomorrow.

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2021 #2: Aberrant

Coerthas, 1551 (About 26 years before the events of “A Realm Reborn”)

“You know once you do this, there’s no going back,” Father Comfraire said in his soft, quiet voice.

Corran nodded, walking alongside the slender old priest. The day was warm and the wind blew through the long grasses, the constant hush muffling their footsteps as they made their way to the old watchtower. Corran looked to the sky, watching to see if the wings cutting the air were birds or dragons.

“There have been some who questioned your commitment to the cause,” Comfraire continued. “You’ve been less...active, since marrying that foreign woman and fathering a son.”

Corran stiffened, but before he could argue, Comfraire shook his head. “If anything, the scandal of your marriage made for a decent smokescreen. You play the part of a good Halonic well; one passionate rebellion is to be expected now and then--and she is lovely.”

“My marriage is neither convenience nor a fit of thoughtless passion,” Corran said in a low, cold voice. “I’ll thank you not to speak of my wife so again.”

Comfraire remained maddeningly calm, gaze fixed forward. “I care not if you love her or simply enjoy what’s between her fine legs--the facts speak for themselves and even after all this time, none suspect where your sympathies truly lie.” They stopped outside the old tower, its shadow shifting with the sun’s movement to fall over them. Comfraire did turn to look at Corran now. “My only concern is if you love our cause as much--or more--as you proclaim to love your Thavnairian beauty.”

Corran ground his teeth and willed his fists to unclench; this was how the old priest simply was, and he knew that. So he nodded. “If I wish my family to be safe and free, then the truth must be known, and this war ended. By any means necessary. I’ve waited long enough, and my boy’s no infant anymore.”

“Very well.” Comfraire tilted his head slightly, toward the swollen old door half-hidden behind ivy. Corran hurried forward and pulled it open, allowing the priest to enter first.

Others waited within, men and women who dared not return to the homes they once knew, branded traitors and heretics by the lying Church. They looked up as the pair entered, some nodding in respect for Comfraire, others watching Corran closely. They wordlessly followed into the center of the tower.

The top had long since fallen in, allowing the sun’s slanting rays to shine upon the creature in the center, she who made her roost here and encouraged those who would seek the truth in this long war. Her crimson scales shimmered in the golden afternoon light, scars marking her many victories.

Avengret, a daughter of Ratatoskr, a general of Nidhogg's Horde.

Her burning orange eyes took in the men who entered her domain, head lifting. “Comfraire. What have you brought me today?” She demanded, voice deep enough to vibrate bones.

“One of our own, my lady,” Comfraire said with a deep, sweeping bow. “One who is ready finally to take the next step in our long and winding path.”

“This you so judge?” She demanded, turning her fiery gaze on Corran. He met her glower with one of his own, struggling not to fidget.

“I have known this man his whole life,” Comfraire said. “He is dedicated, and worthy.”

“Dedicated to his Eastern whore, mayhap,” a rough voice said from the right. Another hyur, pale-haired and ruddy-skinned, glaring at Corran. “Where was you when we—”

Corran’s fist connected with the man’s jaw before most in the room realized he had crossed the four yalms between them. The other hyur flailed into an old table, the half-rotten wood crumbling under the sudden weight.

“Keeping my head down and keeping useful connections,” Corran said coldly. “That’s where I was, instead of flashing my arse to the Inquisition and giving every damned Temple Knight a target, Breckt.” He leaned forward over the fallen man, still holding his jaw and wincing as he tried to sit up among the ruined wood. “And I did it while earning the affections of a proper and respectable woman. If you call her aught else again, I’ll feed you your own balls.”

Avengret’s laugh rumbled through them, the very stones vibrating. “Disparage another’s mate and reap the consequences,” she said. “I like this one, Comfraire. There is a fire here I would see stoked against mine enemies.”

“I thought you would, my lady,” the old priest’s soft voice was nearly inaudible next to the dragon’s simple breathing, yet he was clearly heard even through the angry rushing in Corran’s head.

Corran turned his back to Breckt to look up at Avengret. “What would you have me do?”

She appraised him for a long time. Finally her great mouth curled into what could only be a smile. “I would make of you a true warrior, though it will take time. Assuming you wish to fight so valiantly for me as you do for your mate.”

Corran’s mouth felt dry as the others whispered behind him, someone helping Breckt to his feet, the wood clattering against the hushed noises. Avengret’s eyes burned into Corran’s soul and he nodded. “Anything, my lady.”

She raised her large forearm, and as they watched, bit her own clawed digit. More of a nip from smaller side teeth, but enough for blood to well, ruby against crimson. Avengret held her wound to Corran; he could barely cover it with his hand. “Drink,” she ordered, a threatening growl to it.

He glanced at Comfraire, who nodded slowly, a spark in his eye the only show of emotion from the old priest, always so controlled. Corran took a breath, bracing his hands on Avengret’s scales; she was hot to the touch, but not unbearably so, her hide pebbly. He leaned in.

Later, Corran couldn’t consciously recall drinking from Avengret, though he knew he had; her blood was unbearable, the flames coursing through his body, spreading until he was going to burst from the fullness of heat. Others held him upright, soothed him with ice and calming words.

Somewhere above them all, the dragon laughed darkly. “What was ripped from my mother, I freely give that you, my son, might become my weapon--my vengeance. Serve well, and someday your reward will be to fly alongside your true family to destroy those thieves and murderers who would deny your stolen birthright.”

—-

Dark had fallen fully by the time Corran saw Comfraire back to the chapel where he pretended to serve the Halonic church. Corran was sure he said goodnight, but it was hard to hear or feel anything past the buzzing in his skull, the sensation of his skin rippling from flames still racing beneath the surface. He felt as if he had to be smoking like a smithy, his hair damp with sweat and the echo of a dragon’s song in his ears. Everything felt unbearably slow and fragile; he had to move, but could not go swiftly enough, could not go high enough.

The door of his home slammed, and even that seemed too distant. “Corran!” a sweet, familiar voice cut through the haze, hushed but scolding. “Are you drunk? You’ll wake Zaine!”

He looked, and sucked in a breath. His Emelia crossed to the kitchen, throwing him a disgruntled look at his antics. He didn’t care; he could drown in those dark blue eyes and thank her for the privilege. Her golden-brown skin fairly glowed in the lamps as he followed her, the light catching on her fine black locks, shimmering in his gaze. Even now, cleaning up after the evening meal, she moved with the grace of a dancer, slim form swaying to music only she could hear, music ever outside his own hearing but he would follow her lead forever if she let him. Even scolding, her voice, with its Thavnairian lilt, was a song he could never tire of, weaving over the dragon’s verse still in his head.

“I knew you meant to escort the Father on his walk but did you then stop by the tavern? I expected you home bells ago! Zaine was disappointed you weren’t here to give him a story, it took me forever to put him to bed.”

“I’ll make it up to him tomorrow,” Corran growled as he crossed the room. Emelia squeaked as he spun her around and pressed her back against the counter, kissing her fiercely. Her stiff surprise quickly melted into pliant response, her cool hands sliding up his chest and around his neck, a balm for the fire still raging through him.

His hands ran over her body, needing more, needing her, naught else could quench Avengret’s heat, as he nipped at Emelia’s jaw, her neck. “I need you,” he snarled.

She yelped, and he stiffened. “I--did I hurt you?” He asked, some of the haze clearing.

Emelia shook her head. “No--not in a bad way, I mean.” She blushed brightly, and he couldn’t help a relieved laugh. Then she cupped his face in her hands and he thought perhaps he could ascend to the Heavens after all. “This isn’t like you; are you all right? Just what did you drink tonight?”

He pulled her close once more. “Something new. Think I’ll try it again--if you’ve no objections.” He rocked against her.

Emelia gasped and shivered, then bade him pause, swallowing hard. “Just the one,” she managed to say.

Corran blinked, confusion warring with the fiery instincts raging within him.

Emelia giggled, still blushing. “The kitchen hasn’t a door, let alone a lock, to keep little boys at bay should they wake.”

Corran laughed now, perhaps too loudly as she tried to hush him. He scooped his wife into his arms, to carry her to their bed where he could ravish her until the fire in his veins abated, the song quieted in his head. To love and worship her as she deserved--before leaving her arms in the morning to do his part for the neverending war.

---

((Immediately followed up by “Passion”, the spicy continuation of Corran & Emelia’s evening.

So in one of last year’s prompts I suddenly learned Aeryn’s dad was a heretic, and apparently this year we’re exploring that more.))

[hartigays]

8 + 20 for the sappy prompts, mayhaps? -thinger-strang 💕💕💕

8. “Can I touch you?”

20. “I’ve been waiting all my life for you.”

(i’m doing this one as a continuation of this sappy prompt request, so y’all should read that one first to better understand this one)

standing at the altar, sweating just a little bit beneath his tux, billy’s stomach flip-flops nervously.

today is the big day. billy and steve’s wedding, the most anticipated event of the year. they’ve spent an ungodly amount of time making sure every last detail of this day is perfect, and throughout the process billy couldn’t find it in himself to complain even once. he wants this day to be just as perfect as steve does, and he’ll be the first to admit it.

billy is standing in front of hopper, their wedding officiant. hopper has a big, genuine smile on his face, and it’s been there since he exited the byers’ house and walked down the aisle after billy.

the backyard of the byers house was meticulously decorated by joyce, billy’s mom, and steve’s mother the day prior. dustin’s mom had helped as well, but mostly she handled the cooking for the reception.

the color scheme is primarily white, with pink and purple flowers accenting everything. steve had insisted on a blush-pink and lilac color scheme, which turned out to be rather incredible. the bridesmaids’ dresses and the groomsmens’ tuxes match the theme of the wedding, and steve had spent hours agonizing over which dresses and tuxes to pick.

the guests consist of joyce, as well as billy, steve, and dustin’s mothers, lucas’ little sister erica, tommy and carol, murray, and doc owens. jonathan had been chosen to be the wedding photographer, el the flower girl, and max the ring bearer. officer callahan had volunteered to be the wedding DJ, claiming that it’s a new hobby he’s trying out. officer powell and his wife had even shown up, and billy spots them in the crowd.

nancy, robin, and heather were chosen to be the bridesmaids, while mike, dustin, lucas, and will are their chosen groomsmen. they’re all still in the house, waiting for their moment to walk out and take their places at the altar.

it’s when the music starts up again that billy’s palms start to sweat, his heart rate kicking up. the wedding party comes out of the house first, and jonathan moves around to snap shots of everyone making their way down the aisle. then comes el, her smile wide and gleeful as she tosses petals into the air, watching happily as they fall. max is up next, exiting the house and making her way down the aisle with a soft smile, meeting billy’s eyes. she’s holding a silk lilac pillow, the rings resting on top of it.

once everyone is in their right places, callahan switches melodies. there are a few anxious moments of waiting before steve finally exits the house, and billy almost loses his balance at the sight of him.

steve is blurry and watery because billy is already crying, but billy doesn’t even attempt to hide it. he’s steeled himself so he won’t outright bawl like a baby, but it’s his wedding day. he’ll permit himself to cry around people other than steve on the most important day of his life.

steve looks breathtaking in his tux. the jacket is white with black silk lapels, and his pants and shoes are black as well. he has a set of purple flowers tucked into the pocket of his jacket, and his hair is styled as immaculately as always. billy’s tux coordinates with steve’s, though the colors are opposite. billy’s tux is black with white lapels, white pants, with a set of pink flowers tucked into the pocket of his jacket.

billy’s hands twitch by his sides, wanting to reach out and pull steve to him once he makes it to the end of the aisle. it’s only another moment before he’s standing in front of billy, smiling brighter than the sun.

“to start, i’d like to say a few words of welcome,” hopper begins once everyone is still and quiet, “and thank everyone for being here to bear witness to this union.”

billy doesn’t hear most of hopper’s introduction. he’s too busy staring at steve, and steve is staring right back. they’re both crying already, and billy can’t help but think that when they can finally kiss, they’re going to be practically bawling into each other’s mouths.

“when i first met steve, he was just a snot-nosed teenager with a penchant for getting his ass kicked,” hopper is saying, “and my first run-in with billy just so happened to be me arresting him.”

hopper gives billy a smile and a wink, and the audience laughs. billy can’t help but huff out a laugh of his own, because it’s not like he’s wrong, and steve’s laugh is a little wobbly and watery.

“i have to say, i didn’t see much in these two at the start. at the time, i didn’t much believe in change or growth, or second chances.” hopper pauses, clasping his hands together. “or even in love. i didn’t believe that love had the capacity to change people to such an impactful degree. but then you boys came along, and your souls found each other, and i saw all of that change before my very eyes.

“i’ve witnessed you boys grow and change. i’ve seen you learn from your mistakes and become better people, and i’ve seen you both do that alongside each other. the love you share is a love that has impacted not only both of you, but everyone around you. it’s opened both of your eyes, and it’s opened my eyes and the eyes of others, too. and that is a very powerful thing. this marriage doesn’t just represent love, though it is truly bursting with it. it also represents the evolution of the soul, and the capacity for the love of another human being to spark that kind of evolution.”

steve’s tears are coming harder at hopper’s words, and billy says fuck it internally, reaching out and grabbing his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. hopper wraps up his speech a moment later, but billy has stopped listening again, focused solely on the weight of steve’s hand in his.

they’ve chosen to forego any readings, so the ceremony moves straight into their vows. steve starts them off, wiping his eyes with a shaky laugh and taking both of billy’s hands.

“billy,” steve starts, taking a deep breath. “my billy, my sweetheart, my sunshine. the love you’ve shown me, the love you’ve given me, endlessly, has been the brightest, most beautiful thing in my life. before you, i always thought i knew what love felt like, and how much of it i could give someone. but then you came along, and i never knew i could love someone so much. i never knew i could love someone the way that i love you.

“you’ve loved me, cared for me, protected me, defended me. you’ve given me everything and more, selflessly, and it’s my turn to give you that, too. i vow to love you, to care for you, to protect you, to defend you. i vow to tackle any obstacle that comes our way by your side, always. i promise that i will love you, and only you, every day for the rest of my life. i give myself, every last bit, to you. i’m yours to keep, forever. i love you, billy, and i want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you.”

steve squeezes billy’s hands, and billy can’t help the half-choked sob that slips from his lips. it’s more of a hiccup mixed with a joyful laugh, but steve just keeps smiling, holding billy’s hands, grounding him.

billy looks at hopper, sniffling. “is it my turn?”

“the floor is yours,” hopper tells him, smiling.

“steve, baby, princess. pretty boy, if you will,” billy begins, and steve huffs out a laugh. “every day since i’ve known you, you’ve made me want to wake up and be a better man. for most of my life, i didn’t care much about kindness or goodness. i didn’t think those things mattered much, until i met you. you, who’s overflowing with so much kindness and goodness. you, with all your patience and generosity. you’ve given me so much love that sometimes i hardly know what to do with it.

“you’ve shown me what it means to love, and what it means to be loved in return. even on my darkest days, you’ve loved me without question. without stipulation. i promise i will love you for the rest of my life, with no conditions attached. i vow to hold you in my heart until the day i die, to wake up every day and love you even more than the last. steven michael harrington, i’ve been waiting all my life for you. and i’m ready to spend the rest of it with you by my side. forever is a long time, and i intend to spend every last moment of it with you.”

steve is full-on crying now, teardrops staining the silk of his tux. max steps forward, holding out the pillow where both rings are resting. billy takes steve’s ring, and steve takes billy’s. they take turns slipping the rings onto each other’s fingers, both of them smiling like idiots through their tears.

hopper is sniffling too, but he barrels on, clearing his throat. “with that, william james hargrove, do you take steven michael harrington to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“i do,” billy says, easily. his voice almost cracks, and he just barely manages to keep it together.

“and do you, steven michael harrington, take william james hargrove to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“i do,” steve affirms. his voice is wobbly, but he’s smiling so wide that billy is pretty sure his cheeks are going to be sore tomorrow.

“without further ado,” hopper says, “you may now kiss -”

billy doesn’t wait for hopper to finish his sentence before he’s stepping forward, pulling steve in for a kiss. steve’s hands are on billy’s shoulders, and billy has his arms wound around steve, holding him close. the kiss is warm, and a little salty with tears, but billy smiles into it, his heart soaring.

“i now pronounce you husband, and husband,” hopper finishes, wiping his eyes.

el throws a handful of petals into the air above them, and billy is still kissing steve as they fall down around them.

it isn’t until later, until after running down the aisle with steve, after hours of dancing and eating and drinking and laughing at the reception, that billy kisses steve with more heat.

hopper has given them his cabin for the weekend, and billy doesn’t waste any time getting steve out of his tux once they’re inside, kicking the bedroom door shut with his heel.

“can i touch you?” steve asks softly, his hands pausing where they’re about to slip off billy’s tuxedo jacket.

“baby, we’re married now,” billy reminds him, pressing a kiss to his jaw, “you don’t have to ask permission.”

when they fall back into bed together, in a mass of tangled limbs, it doesn’t last long. they’re both too excited, too worked up, to hold on for more than a few minutes. but neither of them mind, because they have the rest of the evening to come together slowly, to worship each other with meticulous attention.

hell, they have the rest of their lives ahead of them. they can spend every day just like this, taking each other apart, lips and hands roaming over broad expanses of skin, giving each other every ounce of love and attention they can muster.

like billy said, forever is a long time. and they most certainly intend to spend every last second of it side by side, hand in hand.

exactly the way they should be.

[chrysalispen]

Prompt #15 - Ache

nothing dazzling, just some fluff and backstory

======

"How fares the matter we discussed in missives previous?"

Gaius van Baelsar paused, cleared his throat, and scanned the itinerary tablet a subordinate had passed to him. Solus zos Galvus was known to make unannounced visits to all the provinces when it suited him, but this was the first such visit the Emperor had made to Ala Mhigo since its surrender to imperial forces. Were the full truth of the matter to be known, it appeared he was finally starting to feel the weight of his advanced years. A lung ague had confined him to the palace early in the year, preventing him from attending the Magitek Academy's annual spring gala (wherein it was his tradition to personally address the crop of each year's graduating students) for the first time in over two decades.

'Twas to be expected---although, Gaius suspected, that frailty was mostly physical. The keen focus of those sharp gold-hazel eyes had not dulled. Whatever else he might be, the old goat still had all of his wits about him. Thus, the legatus did not dally.

"All is proceeding apace, Your Radiance. Reports from our forward scouts lead my tribunes to believe we can muster all forces necessary to spearhead the campaign within the next nine months. Much of Mor Dhona is either uninhabited or ruled by beast tribes." Gaius offered a laconic shrug. "They are not like to create any particular impediment."

"I imagine their eikons might provide some small hindrance," Solus said wryly.

"As you say, Your Radiance. However, lacking any forewarning, they would not have time to see to their defenses before we take the region around Silvertear Lake. We can establish a staging ground in Mor Dhona and sweep south. Frumentarium reports show the Eorzeans lack a unified large-scale force with which to resist the full might of an imperial legion. Ala Mhigo was the source of much of their military might, and with it now annexed as a province, the other city-states should fall quickly. Provided all goes according to plan, most if not all Eorzea should be under imperial control by this time next year."

"One can hope. Now, for the schedule."

"Yes, Your Radiance. There's an inspection of the Velodyna installation by transport scheduled for half noon tomorrow. After our return to the city, dining with the Thavnairian trade minister and several local merchants and assorted nobles."

"Ah, yes. Helpful turncoats, all," Solus zos Galvus harrumphed, shifting in his seat. "I suppose putting in an appearance and speaking a few pleasantries will keep them content enough. Shall there be any of our own in attendance other than yourself and your officers?"

"Unlikely."

"Very good. I should like to speak with them each in their turn if possible."

An order, not a request. "Of course, Your Radiance."

==

"My lord, you are still indisposed-"

Julian rem Laskaris shoved L'haiya's hands away with an annoyed grunt. "Enough, Elle. I don't need your mothering," he said. "And it hardly matters. An invitation to dine with the Emperor at the viceroy's request means my presence is required, not requested."

Aurelia worried at her lower lip, watching the pain twist her father's face as he braced himself upon the crutches and tried to shift his weight a third time. He'd broken his leg last month when a bit of scaffolding at the new military installation along the river had collapsed during a routine inspection. Although he had been bedridden less than a sennight, he was not yet authorized to return to the full scope of his duties and she knew it rankled him.

His temper was such that he was not like to see her interference kindly either, but she'd rather he yell at her than L'haiya. At least in her case, she could yell back.

"Aurelia," L'haiya began sharply when she stepped forward, but she went ignored. Aurelia's arm slipped under her father's to wrap about his shoulders and beneath her touch, she felt him stiffen in surprise.

"Off with you, girl. What I said for your governess goes for you also. Leave me be."

"Father, the cushions are too deep for you to stand without help. You won't get enough leverage to keep your balance-"

"I know what I said!" he barked, but other than a surprised flinch, Aurelia didn't budge. "Young lady, do not ignore me."

"If you don't accept my help, father, then you'll never leave the sofa. You'll be stuck here all night and I cannot imagine his lordship the viceroy will find that an acceptable excuse for failing to appear at the palace. His Radiance certainly will not." As usual, he couldn't look her in the eyes- although her blunt assessment seemed to have taken the wind out of his sails. The tips of his ears were pink but otherwise, he made no response. "Elle, can we have a bath drawn for Father? In the downstairs room so he'll not have to navigate the stairs. It will be more quickly done."

Mirth twinkled in the governess' eyes but she managed to keep a straight face.

"Of course, young mistress," she drawled. "Will that be all?"

"Mayhap we might have Sazha fetch his dress uniform downstairs. I think Clopas can help him dress once he's out of the bath."

"I shall see to it."

"Elle," Julian protested, "she does not give the orders around here. I do."

That assertion went unheeded as the woman immediately crossed the hall and vanished from sight. In a moment there was the loud and rushing sound of running water rattled through the wall pipes.

"Elle, I was talking to you!"

After a moment, L'haiya poked her head back through the open door. "Apologies, my lord," she called, "but it's quite difficult to hear over the bath. If you've another request I'm afraid you'll need to speak up."

Julian scowled but said nothing, and after a brief pause, they both heard the door snick shut. This time when his daughter hoisted, he went with her until he stood - somewhat shakily - on his good leg and drew the crutches in, checking their counterbalance.

"Well, father, and now you shall be prepared on time."

"I would have been prepared in any case," he said gruffly. "I said I was fine, and so I am. You should not have attempted to gainsay your-"

"Should I have sent your regrets to Lord van Baelsar after all, father? If you are too indisposed to wash properly let alone attend a dinner with the Emperor, I am quite certain he will accept it- or mayhap His Radiance might deign to call upon us while you lie in your sickbed."

This was a trick she had learned from L'haiya - needling him while remaining outwardly respectful - and it still surprised her every time it worked. Your lord father is easier to manage than you think, she had said. Like a fly. Honey, child, not vinegar.

Not that Father needed to know about that conversation.

He squinted at her and with some difficulty, she bit back a snicker.

"If you weren't thirteen summers yet, you stubborn little chit," was Julian rem Laskaris' answering growl before he turned his back on the girl and began to limp, with a pathetic sort of dignity, towards the downstairs washroom. Just as Aurelia had bid. "Next time I'll thank you not to countermand me in front of the help. You're not too old to be switched for your cheek, girl."

There was no heat in that threat whatsoever. "Of course not, father."

He knew by her tone she was humoring him. Her even tone was met with a glower that reminded her remarkably of Sazha, when he'd sulk over losing one of their games.

"I don't need your help or anyone else's to bathe myself."

"In that case, father, please let us know when you're done. One of us can call upon Clopas to see to the shaving while you dress," she said placidly. "I'll prepare some tea while you bathe. Is there aught else I might have missed?"

Her father only made a low-pitched grunt before the door slammed shut behind him. ~*~

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Her hands were on his upper back, probing gently, smooth and slightly cool. "I rather doubt you've done yourself any permanent harm, but you should consider avoiding strenuous work. No more work on the new project or the Red Baron until you've fully recovered this time."

"It's a pulled muscle, eikon-slayer. I've had plenty worse. Five years ago I would have slept this off and-" Nero grunted in discomfort as her knuckles rolled over a tender spot near his spine. She didn't even flinch. "...Perhaps it's lingered a day or two past what I expected initially but I told you I am fine."

"Of course you are," the Warrior of Light said, a little too agreeably. Something about that mild, placid tone set his teeth on edge.

"You are not my mother. Stop humoring me."

"I'll stop humoring you when you stop sulking like an overgrown child."

"I don't have to suffer this indignity," the engineer growled. "Let me up. I have work to do."

"And let you injure yourself all over again? Out of the question."

"Seven hells, woman-"

"No," Aurelia said firmly. "That's final. Complain all you like, but you're not getting anywhere near the G-Warrior until your back is improved. Not even for maintenance."

He made a loud and angry harrumph into his pillows.

"Who let Garlond name it, anyroad," Nero groused. "What a bloody ridiculous title. I'd have given it a proper name. Something that would have really left an impression."

"Oh?" He flinched sharply when she found a tender spot, his curse bitten out behind a loud hiss of pain. She paused and gently rubbed his shoulder in apology. "Like what? Dazzle me with your first impression, Scaeva."

"Obviously I'm not going to be able to think of anything while you're cracking every bone in my spinal column," he grumbled. "But it would've been something a damned sight more imaginative than G-Warrior."

"Really? My goodness. You may safely color me hypothetically impressed."

Those sharp blue eyes narrowed until he was squinting at her- or making a valiant attempt at it.

"...Are you trying to be funny?"

"I wouldn't dream of it." A beat of silence followed by a huffy sigh, and Aurelia laughed. She'd switched her attention to the juncture of his shoulders and neck, pressing with her fingertips in small and careful circular motions. "Far be it from me to lecture, but I am fair certain the reason you could shake this off with minimal attention five years past is because you were younger and in peak physical shape."

"I am still in peak physical shape," Nero retorted, no small measure of offense implicit in the words.

"That is very much up for debate, but regardless, maybe don't go clambering up three-thousand-year-old Allagan broadcasting antennae by yourself in future? Just for a sennight or so? You're not as young as you used to be."

Nero sighed, this time with rather more regret.

"Don't bloody remind me."

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Kingjin au

Characters; Kim Seokjin , Min Yoongi , Kim Namjoon Genre; Humour and I guess fluffy ending. Royalty AU too ig Warnings; Few minor curse words but otherwise nothing Word count; 1.4k

Seokjin is a shit King, Yoongi is fed up of being his babysitter and Namjoon is just an innocent jewellery maker that gets dragged into the King’s shit. But ends up with a worldwide handsome man in his bed so who’s the real winner here.

⦁ Okay so we start the story at the castle where the yearly ball is held to celebrate another year under King Kim Seokjin's reign ⦁ Speaking of the King ⦁ He's standing on his chair at the head table as music plays and guests dance and talk ⦁ And he's telling jokes ⦁ People are laughing in that painful way where they don't find the joke funny but don't know what else to do ⦁ I mean, you'd laugh too if your ruler is playing comedian ⦁ "Your Majesty, I believe you've graced us with enough of your jokes now"- Advisor to the King, Min Yoongi or as he's more commonly known; The King's babysitter. ⦁ "Nonsense, Yoongi-chi! I have plenty of jokes left! I can go all night!" ⦁ Somehow, he failed to notice the despair in his subjects eyes. ⦁ Fast forward to the next day where Yoongi is lecturing Seokjin yet again about how a king should act ⦁ "I'm the King, I think only I can judge how the King of my country should act" The childlike pout and sulkily folded arms over the slumped torso of the king is prime example of how Yoongi got his nickname. ⦁ "Nobody takes you seriously, Seokjin. I'm surprised the people haven't started an uprising to dethrone you yet. You act like a child." ⦁ "My people would never! They love me!" ⦁ "As a court jester, sure, a competent ruler however? Not so much." ⦁ "Oh you'll see, this country would fall apart without me!" Followed by a dramatic exit from the advisor's office leaving poor Yoongi with yet another headache and stacks of work to do on the King's behalf. ⦁ That night Seokjin sneaks out of the castle with a plan to prove his point ⦁ He's determined to prove to Yoongi that the country needs him as King and that by the next evening, everything will have fallen to shit ⦁ Except the next day passes and the castle still stands ⦁ Seokjin watches from a little cottage on a nearby hill with his eye pressed to the smaller end of the telescope. ⦁ "A-are you going to return now, Your Majesty?" Poor innocent Namjoon never imagined he'd get dragged into anything even remotely regarding the Royal family. ⦁ Namjoon had always been happy on the outskirts, far enough from the general population to not be bothered but still close enough that he could bike into town to gather provisions whenever he needed to. ⦁ He lived a simple happy life out there on his little hill with the wild flowers and books he pressed them into to make into bookmarks and jewellery that he sold at the market once a month ⦁ And then before the sun had even arisen that morning King Kim Seokjin stumbled out of the nearby woods and onto his porch. ⦁ He hadn't left since ⦁ "Not until they beg," ⦁ Namjoon sighed for he knew the last thing anyone would do was beg to have Kim Seokjin back in charge ⦁ So suddenly Namjoon's life was no longer simple and quiet but full of a sulking royal taking up his own bed and lounging on his favourite arm chair by the window to squint out across the green green grass at the castle ⦁ "I saw another guard today," Namjoon had just returned from his daily ride through the woods. ⦁ "What did they say?" ⦁ "Well, they're not exactly going out of their way to look for you," He admitted and the king groaned, throwing his arms up dramatically before muttering to himself grumpily in a way Namjoon was certain would've been a hex if only magic was real ⦁ Three weeks passed before Seokjin realised his plan was failing and the castle was thriving without him ⦁ In his absence Yoongi had been making all the decisions and the country was honestly better for it ⦁ But of course, if King Seokjin is one thing, it's a stubborn dumbass ⦁ "New plan, Namjoonie," ⦁ "Do I have a say?" ⦁ "Not in the slightest." ⦁ Which is how that very same afternoon Namjoon found himself standing infront of Yoongi on the opposite side of his large wooden desk in his office ⦁ "Ransom?" Yoongi questioned after reading the note previously handed to him that the advisor instantly knew was written by the king ⦁ "Uh, yes, ransom." An awkward shuffle. ⦁ "You're telling me you've had the King in your home for the past three weeks and now demand to be paid to return him?" ⦁ "Yep, that-that's what the note says." ⦁ "You know I was raised with Seokjin, right? I know how handwriting almost as well as my own?" ⦁ Namjoon only gave a sheepish grin. ⦁ And then Yoongi turned and tossed the note into the fireplace behind him before getting up and crossing his study to uncover the safe hidden behind an end table ⦁ A large sack of coins was soon in Namjoon's hands. ⦁ "Here," ⦁ "This...this feels like a lot." ⦁ "Mmh, at least double what you asked. You'll need the compensation for dealing with his shit." ⦁ "Uhm, excuse me, what?" ⦁ "Keep him, if he's gone for a day longer the council agreed to hand the title of King to me. Let's all be honest right now, he's a shit King." ⦁ "I mean, I can't argue that," ⦁ "So, keep him until tomorrow and then tell him he's no longer King and if he returns he'll have to work for me." ⦁ "Can't you tell him?" ⦁ One note handwritten by Yoongi later and Namjoon was plodding back home with his messenger bag weighed down with shiny coins. ⦁ He made sure to take the longe route home just so he didn't have to try to keep the secret from his uninvited guest for quite as long ⦁ And then it was almost midnight and he was stepping into his cosy little cottage ⦁ Seokjin was already asleep in the armchair ⦁ Namjoon spent the night in his own bed for the first time in three weeks ⦁ The next morning he gave Seokjin the note ⦁ He expected the elder to yell at him for hiding it ⦁ He expected Seokjin to scream and do more of his posessed mutterings and curse the whole town ⦁ But the no longer King simply plucked a few pieces of gold from the sack and opened the front door ⦁ "Where are you going?" ⦁ "Does it matter? It's all downhill from here," And then he was gripping the doorframe for support as tears rolled down his cheeks and laughter hurt his lungs "Get it?! Because we're on a hill!" ⦁ It was the first time Namjoon had heard one of Seokjin's infamous jokes in person ⦁ And honestly, he laughed ⦁ Seokjin turned to him with a warmth in his chest that he had never felt before ⦁ "You laughed, at my joke. A real laugh, not the fake ones to keep me happy." ⦁ "It was funny," ⦁ The door closed and Seokjin marched across the wooden floor to throw his arms around the kind younger man's shoulders ⦁ "Uhm, Seokjin-ssi?" ⦁ "Hyung, call me hyung," ⦁ "Oh...okay, hyung." Namjoon's arms wrapped around Seokjin's waist ⦁ For the first time in his life, Namjoon thought that having another person so close wouldn't be so bad. ⦁ So Seokjin officially moved in ⦁ He collected a few of his belongings from the castle and made Yoongi promise to visit and invite both him and Namjoon to all the parties ⦁ Namjoon taught Seokjin about the flowers and how to make various things to sell at market and improve their home ⦁ Seokjin didn't have the best skill but he had a lot of creative ideas ⦁ Soon enough their crafts were the talk of the town and not long after the country ⦁ Even though they had plenty of money to spare they stilled stayed in their modest little one bedroom tucked up close together every night with love in their eyes and swelling their chests together ⦁ And they just knew that they would have a long and happy life together right there where it all started in their little cottage up on the hill

[Author’s note]

This was supposed to be just a quick lil bulletpoint au based on the prompt;

“You kidnap the King of a large country and hold him for ransom. You are shocked when you received twice what you asked for from them with a single note reading: ‘Twice the amount to make sure he never comes back’ ”

But I got more into the idea as I wrote so yeah, more detailed than it should’ve been oops lol sorry I keep playing with the idea of making it into an actual fully written story but im not sure Let me know if you think I should and maybe it could be a whole series and we can have new King Yoongi hire an advisor, mayhaps a certin little Jiminie ;) But that’s getting ahead of myself (guard Hoseok and Jungkook NO! swordsmith jk with the muscles and sweat ehehhe. Namjoon’s florist friend tae who is lowkey in love with the town swordsmith but too shy to talk to him. Little does he know the swordsmith has a weakness for cute boys that sell pretty flowers for a living.)

~Chee