#lucia and leon charm

[geddy-leesbian]

bitches love me for my lesbian Luis Serra swagger

(could not get a decent pic of it but the industrial bar I'm wearing has a heart with a ⚢)

[luxurychristmaspudding]

Arizona | On Call

part i

summary: frankie has a question.

pairing: neighbour!frankie morales x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. dual pov. reader and frankie are both bi and have same sex exes. mostly fluff here, folks. and some (maybe a lot of?) angst. just a couple of buds chillin'. some talk of dead/absent parents.

reader is a teacher and has hair, but she is otherwise a blank slate.

wc: 5.1k

an: wow - i really did not expect this little guy to get the response it did yesterday. eternally grateful for your support and enthusiasm. i love you. hope y'all enjoy <3

dividers from the glorious @saradika-graphics

That taste All I ever needed All I ever wanted Too dumb to surrender

- arizona, kings of leon

series masterlist | main masterlist

It’s quiet in the house. 

Golden, gooey sunlight pools on the living room floor, slanting through the windows. It’s warm against the arm he has resting on the edge of the sofa, not a chirp or a lawnmower whirring outside, and when Frankie closes his eyes, you’re the first thing he sees. 

Evenings like this are the mirror of when your truck first rattled up the street and groaned to a halt outside your front door. He can see it now, within the darkness behind his eyelids, how he’d peeked from behind the curtains in Lucia’s stifling room, her small, sleeping body sprawled on the bed behind him. How the truck door had swung open, how your bare legs had emerged from the cool of the cab, how you’d hopped down onto the pavement and raised a hand to shield your eyes from the low-lying sun. You’d licked your teeth as you’d rechecked the address and looked up at the house - your house. Blown a deep breath out from your cheeks and then turned back to the truck to scrabble around for your keys. 

Frankie had turned from the window as soon as you’d bent across the front seat, only glimpsing the bottom of the plush of your ass peeking from below your sweat shorts before he’d swept the curtain and the image aside.

He’d given it two minutes before he’d clattered out of his front door at the same time as you’d emerged from yours, raising a hand in greeting over the fence that separated your houses. You’d answered with a wide grin and a lilting hey, neighbour as he’d looped the boundary, holding out a palm for you to shake. I'm Frankie, he’d said, shooting a thumb over his shoulder at his open front door. From across the way. You’d given him your name in return, quirking an eyebrow as you asked whether he was feeling strong.

The truth is, that day Frankie would have been whatever you needed him to be. Immediately taken by your warm charm, your glinting smile - the mischief always just behind your eyes, the way you moved through your house. Even now, he cooks you dinner during exam season when you’re up to your eyeballs in papers, mows your lawn when he’s already cutting his own. Offers a shoulder to cry on when you’re missing your dad, always your best friend with spare beers when you’re free on a Saturday night - and you never fail to return the favour. 

The way things are now, it’s like he can’t even remember what it was like to not have you next door. What it was like when he wasn’t launching your paper onto your porch, what it was like when you weren’t soaking him and Lucia with the hose over the fence as they launched water balloons at you from the other side, both your backyards filled with squeals and shouts of laughter. He’s so glad - so infinitely glad - that fate or whatever it was that had a hand in these things dropped you on the curb that evening a year ago. That he had grinned and laughed and said yes ma’am, that he had lept at the chance to be a good neighbour and started lifting the boxes from the truck bed, helped you set up your wifi, invited you in for a beer in his kitchen when you ordered food for the two of you as Lucia slept soundly upstairs. 

He remembers being shocked at how easy it was. Easy conversation, easy laughter, easy silence. Easy friendship.

How he’d looked forward to seeing you across your lawns in the morning, calling out your greetings as you clambered into your truck and he fastened Lucia into her booster in his. The catch ups over the fence when you’d finished your days, recounting stories from the classroom or cockpit, Lucia chipping in her own from nursery. The delight in your eyes when they’d knocked on your door a couple of weekends after you’d moved in, arms laden with a tub of homemade cookies. How you’d invited them in, drinking coffee and juice, how easily you’d gotten on with Lucia. She’d adored you after that first afternoon spent together, falling asleep in your lap as you’d settled in front of the TV in low evening light. You and Frankie had talked long afterwards in lowered voices, you refusing to be relieved of his daughter’s tiny sleeping body, insisting you were just as comfortable as she was. The little girl only stirred when Frankie made you snort with laughter at something one of his friends had said. 

Conversation had turned to friends, family. He told you about his brothers in arms, his mom and dad, Lucia’s mother. A woman who was jetting across the country as a flight attendant, an amicable breakup leading to easy co-parenting. You’d gladly told him about your friends, but hesitated before telling him of how your mom had disappeared from your life when you were little, how your dad had passed away a couple years back. He’d stretched an arm out, one hand settling on and squeezing your knee. Big palms warm and heavy, thick fingers gentle and understanding. When you’d followed the line of his arm up to meet his eyes again, crow's feet folded in their corners. Kindness, understanding. Someone who knew loss, too.

He asked about your dad, what he was like, and you’d regaled him with stories of growing up with ice-cream dates, summers you spent fishing on the local lake, how he’d carry you on his shoulders, his tight throat when he told you how proud he was of you at graduation. 

He’d tentatively asked if your dad had been why you moved out here, understanding the need to put physical distance between yourself and the pain and memory of your surroundings.

No, you’d said, eyes glinting ruefully, this was because of a breakup.

Frankie hadn’t pushed for anymore after that.

You’d invited them over for dinner the weekend after, and Frankie had stood by your side in the kitchen, insisting on helping you cook, immovable despite the rag you whipped at him. As you chopped and fried, you'd told Lucia about stars and blackholes and plants and bugs. She was especially taken by bugs.

You’d dug out books you’d borrowed - and never returned - from the school library for her to pore over, even giving her a magnifying glass to use to hunt for critters in your backyard as you and Frankie had washed up afterwards. The three of you then spent an hour on your hands and knees on the grass as Lucia found worms and beetles and caterpillars, a soft smile on Frankie’s face as you shouldered her never-ending questions with all the grace of a bona-fide teacher. 

Every night that week, Lucia had clamoured to go next door and see the bug lady again.

Frankie had had to explain that you were busy working (yes, even this late, mija), and then had to endure the tiny stomping of feet as Lucia explained to him - with all the levity a four-year-old could muster - that there just weren’t enough bugs in their garden; they had to see the bug lady.

Bug lady. The first nickname they’d christened you with. You’d laughed with a full chest when he told you, and assured him it would be a mantle you’d bear with honour. Bug lady. And then, with time and growing softness, it was shortened to bug, and it stuck. 

Tonight, there is a different question to can we come over and look for bugs? that he needs to ask.

He thinks - knows - you’re the right person for it. Deep in his heart. Can count on one hand the number of people he’d entrust the safety of his daughter with, and all of them are too far away to call.

He needs a babysitter. And so far, he’s gotten nowhere fast with his inquiries.

The numbers he’s tried have been polite enough, more than good at their jobs. But they have clients already, families who came way before him that meant accommodating sitting at relatively short notice would be sporadic at best and impossible at worst.

And he’s running out of time. 

His first late night flight is Thursday; some rich guy taking a date up into the skies to watch the view over the city. It’s good money, and he'd be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the sights, too. The glimmer of the city below, the ridges of the hills, flash of the ocean in the distance. The worlds and lives of so many people cradled in the bowl of the valley. It’s beautiful, humbling. It’s worth sharing.

You’d enjoy it, he knows. And every night flight reminds him of an evening not too long ago when he’d struck a deal with you, asking you to grab him a beer when you’d gotten up to go to the bathroom mid-movie. You’d wiggled your eyebrows at him, what’s in it for me?

He’d snorted at you, offering various services and items in exchange, all refused, but then before I’ll take you up in the heli if you - had even finished leaving his mouth, you’d leaped up from the sofa, grabbing his hand to shake on it before he could back out. At night. You’d specified, nodding, wide-eyed as though he’d been the one to say it.

He’d rolled his eyes at your eagerness, demanding you make sure it was an extra cold one for that, and you’d bowed in the doorway, smirking. 

‘At your service, my liege,’ you’d said, before scampering out the way of the cushion Frankie launched at you. 

He’d had to ask you to explain to Lucia why she shouldn’t call him my liege two days later, when it seemed she’d lost the meaning of Papi in an effort to be like you. You’d snorted into your soda when he told you, but had fixed Lucia with serious eyes when you told her that Papi was a very special name to call her dad, one that helped him feel loved and appreciated. Lucia had acquiesced quickly afterwards, stretching her arms out to Frankie before he lifted her from her chair, tucking her face into his neck as she apologised profusely, reassuring him that she still loved him the same, just that my liege had sounded so fun coming from your mouth. Frankie had looked over her curls at your bitten lip, your silent laughter, holding his own amusement behind his teeth as he stroked her back and cooed that he knew, mija, it’s okay.

He remembers, with a lurch below his navel, how Lucia had then asked whether you’d call him Papi to show him he was loved, too. How both your jaws had fallen slack, how something had flickered behind your eyes too quickly for him to catch before you’d told her you call him other things to the same effect. Fish, buddy, and then mouthed over the top of her head, asshole. Frankie had laughed, the jumping of his body pushing Lucia into her own giggles, and you’d soon followed.

It’s strange how much like a family you’ve become over the last year, how well you’ve slotted into their lives. One of his best friends, pulling up with the boys when it comes to ranking his favourite people. Filling gaps he didn’t even know were there, healing fissures he thought had closed. How well you fit in his arms, how well your head fits beneath his chin. How well your lips might fit with his, how well you -

A breath of laughter puffs from his nose, and he rolls his eyes at himself. He’s too old to have a crush, too old to be smiling to himself when he thinks of the girl next door, his best pal. Besides, he has a bad track record with dating friends, anyway.

He checks his watch, stills, listening for the sounds of a restless daughter. Satisfied, he pushes himself up from the orange-bathed haven of the couch with a grunt, pulls open the front door, and skips down the porch steps.

The stubble of the lawn is cool beneath his socks as he jogs across the grass, curving around the picket fence between your properties to pop back up on the other side, striding towards your house.

He takes the steps up your porch two at a time, rapping his knuckles against the sage green of your door. He waits no more than five seconds before he knocks again, earning an irritated alriiiiight from the other side.

The click of a lock, and it swings open to reveal you in shorts, a cap, and a worn cotton t-shirt - sun-warmed, soft, gorgeous. 

You grin at the man on your doorstep, and he grins back.

‘Evenin’, teach.’

You click your tongue at the nickname.

‘Way past your bedtime, Morales,’ you tease, ‘You need a warm milk?’

Frankie flicks the back of his hand against the bill of your cap, giggling as it falls to the ground. 

You smooth your hair, scrabbling for the hat, scowling at him.

‘Need a warm milk,’ he mocks, and you land a carefully curled fist against his bicep as you stand, deadening his arm. ‘Ow, pendeja,’ he pouts, rubbing at it. ‘You know, wearing a cap indoors still doesn’t make you cool.’

That pretty, playful little scowl flickers over your face again.

‘I just finished my study break, actually.’

‘Oh yeah? What are we studying today? A million ways teenagers make your life hard?’

The scowl is stolen by a bitten back smile, and you wave him off, turning on your heel down the hallway, tugging your cap back on.

‘Whaddya want? Pain in my ass,’ you call, walking away from him and back into your kitchen. He follows, drumming his fingers along your sideboard as he goes.

‘I need a favour, if you have any spare.’

Your kitchen is bathed in the same warm glow as his living room, but instead of quiet, there’s the slow turn and hum of your laundry machine in the closet, the sweet croon of a voice from the record player in the corner. Fruit in a bowl, bottles of gifted wine, pictures of friends, paintings from students. The jungle of houseplants you keep towards the patio doors, the jumble of papers, books, planners, and pens spread around your laptop on the table.

It’s so you. So like home.

You pick up the stem of your wine glass, half full, between your thumb and pointer finger, eyes turned up to the ceiling as you count on your other hand. You wince and suck your teeth, eyes falling back to his.

‘I dunno. ’S not looking good, Fish,’ you say somberly, ‘My favour quota’s already been exceeded this year.’

‘Baby, it’s March.’ 

You shrug.

‘Been busy.’

He raises an eyebrow at you, and you scoff.

‘Well, I guess I could make an exception for you, big guy.’

He smiles, leaning against the kitchen counter.

‘I need a babysitter.’

You nod, swallowing a mouthful of wine before placing the glass back on its coaster. Papers shift and whisper as you hunt for your phone, buried in the piles of essays.

‘Oh. Sure. I have some numbers -’

‘Actually - I was thinking -’

‘Now that’s dangerous for all of us.’

He points a finger at you, and you bite your lip, humour lighting your eyes.

‘Ha. Anyway. I was thinking - I know… I know you got that big car bill last month. And I know you don’t get paid enough. And you know Lucia loves you…’

You frown at him.

‘You want me to babysit?’

He bites his lip, looking over your table with clearer eyes. You’re busy. Always busy. Overworked and stressed. A heat crawls up his neck, early onset guilt.

Maybe this was a bad idea. He inhales deeply.

‘Yeah. But I’m starting to realise that might be a lot to ask.’

Hm.

He watches as you pull out a chair and sit at the table, studying him.

‘If it makes it any better, you’re my last resort.’

He’s relieved to hear a flutter of a giggle in response, and you clap your hand over your heart.

‘Ouch. There I was, thinking I meant more to you guys than that.’

He crosses his arms, shaking his head, smiling.

‘You know you do, bug.’

You take your cap off, throwing it away from you on the table, rubbing at your forehead.

‘I’ve got a lot of work to do, Frankie,’ you say softly, eyes gentle.

He sighs.

‘I know. You can say no. It’s just - all the numbers I’ve called are kind of booked up, that’s all. And I guess - I wanna leave her with someone I trust. Someone I know. At first, anyway.’

You stare at him still, thinking.

‘What are we talking?’

‘Once or twice a week. Three at the very most. Just for late night flights.’ He pauses. ‘I’ll pay you top dollar.’

You make a disapproving noise.

‘You don’t have to pay me, Frankie.’

‘Of course I do, don’t be ridiculous. It’s on your time. And if it helps you out…’ 

You frown at him, but he fixes you with a look. No negotiating. You turn your gaze out to your backyard. 

He watches, nervous, as you chew your thumb.

Your eyes find his again.

‘Can I take work over? To do round yours?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Do I have to cook?’

‘No. I’ll make sure there’s food. For both of you.’

You nod slowly.

‘And Luc is in bed by…?’

‘Six.’

You nod again.

‘I’m not expecting the whole nine yards,’ he says, shifting. ‘No cookies or playdough, nothing like that. Just someone to look after her. And I’ll still be making calls.’

‘When would you need me?’

Frankie’s mouth twitches. 

‘Thursday this week. Tuesday and Friday next week.’

You take another drink of your wine. 

‘Can I sleep on it?’

‘Of course, bug.’ He smiles. You return it.

‘Then I’ll sleep on it. I’ll see what the schedule’s like and let you know tomorrow.’

His smile widens.

‘Alright. Thank you. Really.’

You stand from your chair, holding up a palm.

‘I ain’t said yes yet, Morales.’

The smile turns goofy.

‘Yes, ma’am.’

He steps away from the counter and pulls you into his arms. Holds you there for a minute, rocking, enjoying the warmth, the closeness, your smell. Reminds himself that it’s weird to think about your scent as much as he does.

You untangle yourself from him, hands on his biceps where you give a little squeeze.

‘Alright,’ you say, ‘Off you go. See if the kid hasn’t burned the house down yet.’

He chuckles as he retreats, backing down your hallway to the open front door.

‘See you tomorrow, teach.’

‘Get lost, Francisco.’

You sign off by flipping each other the bird as he pulls the door shut behind him, just as you usually do.

And as he steps back into his still-quiet house, he tries to tamp down his grin and his fluttering heart, just as he usually does.

You text him two hours later, when he’s fresh from the shower, clad in only his boxers.

Alright, I slept on it. I’ll be round Thursday.

Along with the swell of relief in his chest, this time the grin and the flutter are much harder to smother.

The night before you left for college, you’d had a nightmare.

You weren’t the type to scare easily; eighteen years old and free from any of the real worries the world could bring. And you were so fucking excited for this next adventure, so ready to begin the rest of your life. Still, you’d found yourself doing something you hadn't done since you were a child.

You’d knocked first - softly, so softly. Waited for a come in that never came. Your dad had stirred anyway as you closed the door quietly behind you, turning, half asleep, to see you stood twisting your fingers in the middle of the carpet.

‘Y’alright, sweetheart?’ he’d asked, all gravelly and tender, threatening tears to spill over your lashline.

‘Yeah,’ you’d mumbled, ‘Just had a nightmare.’

He’d simply lifted the covers on the other side of the bed, and you’d slipped into their warmth, scooching into his side, breathing in his smell. He’d cradled you in his arms like you were still a kid - afraid, vulnerable - and you’d let him. Let the tears soak into his shirt. Felt his grip tighten on you, the kiss he pressed to the top of your head. The promise within it, within the cool moonlight bleeding through the curtains. 

If you don’t wanna do it, all you gotta do is say.

He’d known you didn’t need to hear it, knew it was all you’d worked for, dreamed of. So instead, he’d murmured something else.

‘I’m so proud of you.’

You’d nodded into his chest, and he’d waited until the tears stopped falling before he asked if you wanted to talk about it. You hadn’t at first. But he’d always promised that talking about a dream broke it.

‘I dreamt you weren’t here.’

The vision had hung in the room for a moment, lapping against your dad’s quiet breathing.

‘I am. I’m right here, sweetheart.’

You’d nodded again, that deep, swooping panic of being completely alone in the world threatening to claw through your chest and sweep away his comfort. You couldn’t say anything else. Nothing about the empty house you’d seen, the dust sheets covering lonely chairs.

‘Always gonna be here. Can’t get rid of me.’

You’d both known he was wrong. That one day, this night would be a memory. That one day, you’d try to remember what it felt like to be held like this, known like this, try to remember the scent of his sleepshirt, and not be able to. But that would be years - decades - away. Tomorrow you start the beginning of your real, grownup life. Tomorrow, he’ll drive you across the state. He’ll haul your boxes up to your dorm room, and he’ll sit on your bed and look around and smile at you. The smile will be small, full of love, pride, grief. The grief of letting his little girl go, of looking at you and seeing you at all ages at once. Newborn, tiny in his big hands. On his shoulders, laughing at the sky. Nervous on your first day at school. Shy at the gate of highschool. Flying through the years, surrounded by friends, now landing here. 

And when he stands to leave, to tear himself away, the tears will fall again. You’ll say you’re not sure, your whole world rocking, tilting. And he’ll tell you that you might not be, but he is. You’re gonna be great. You’ll be amazing. And his most favourite line of all.

A ship in a harbour is safe. But that’s not what ships were built for.

And you’ll laugh, and you’ll hug him, and you’ll wish you could for a little longer. But you’ll walk him downstairs all the same, out to his car. You’ll shield your eyes and wave until his license plate disappears, and then you’ll cry in the sun until you have a headache. By the time you’re out with your roommate that evening, you’ll feel better. 

You won’t think about whether he cried on the way home, whether his body shook with sobs. Whether he’s sat in front of the TV now, unable to focus on the movie that’s playing because the house is too damn quiet. Won’t think about how, when he tries to sleep, he can still feel that little girl curled up into his side. How he contemplates his own mortality, hopes it won’t come for him for decades, hopes he’ll see you graduate, meet someone, be happy, achieve all you want to.

For now, there is only the blue moonlight, the deep breathing, the warm arms.

And four years later, your nightmare will come true.

You’re awake, though barely. Faintly aware of the wet on your cheeks, of the ache deep in your chest. The memory, the dream. You try to burrow your face into him, try to breathe in his scent, recall the way he talks. And as the same moonlight from the dream floods your vision, you remember. 

Four years later, and the hurt is still as raw. 

You curl into yourself, folding your arms around your body, holding it in, holding it together. Breathe through it - in through the nose, out through the mouth. I love you. I love you. Your voice and your father’s blending together. You try not to let it overwhelm you. Try not to recall all the moments, all the last moments. The hospitals, the treatments, how he wasted away before you, how you could do nothing about it. But it’s hard. So hard, alone, in the middle of the night like this.

When the burn in your throat eases, you reach for your phone. 3:32am. You unlock it out of habit, texts still open. The conversation you’d had with Frankie earlier - times, dates, what he’d make you for dinner. 

You wish they could have met each other. 

You’re sure Frankie would have loved him. Would have loved his laugh, would have shot the shit about baseball, would have clapped him on the back and joined him for beers on the porch like he does with you. And you’re sure your dad would have loved Frankie. Would have seen his kindness, his patience, his humour. A good man, just like he was.

Sometimes, when the younger man leaves your kitchen, your dad appears, sat at the table across from you. 

‘You like him.’ He says. 

‘Come off it, dad,’ like you don’t both know you’re lying. He gives that knowing little shrug. 

‘Whatever, kid,’ he says, ‘I see the way you look at him. Like you looked at - who was it - Jordan, in seventh grade?’ You always throw something at him then. A marker, a highlighter. And he always laughs at you.

You click your phone screen off, bathed in half-darkness once again. Stare at the frozen ceiling fan, the divots and shadows on the ceiling. Tired, but too awake to sleep. 

You grumble as you swing your legs out from the covers, standing from the bed. Pad downstairs in the dark, flick on the kitchen light, fill the kettle and set it to boil. Through the window, across the way, Frankie’s kitchen light is also on. Your brow furrows - this isn’t a time either of you should be awake - but then he appears in the window, shirtless, busying himself with something by the sink, and you quickly avert your eyes. Something you’ve gotten good at doing since you moved here.

Good at desperately trying not to notice his soft curls, the way his biceps stretch his t-shirts, the way his shoulders fill doorways, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles at you. The way he says your name, the golden skin you’ve glimpsed, the noises he might make -

You roll your eyes at yourself. Crashing out of an engagement, skipping town and developing a crush on the DILF next door is so… you. 

Annie would have gotten a kick out of it, that’s for sure.

The kettle finishes its boil, and you reach for a mug, a tea bag. Watch the tendrils of steam curl from the clutch of the ceramic as you brace your hands on the marble either side of it. You chew the inside of your cheek, head hanging between your shoulders, startling when your phone buzzes, furious-sounding as it crawls across the countertop. 

You know who it is before you see the caller ID. 

‘Hey, neighbour.’

‘Hey, bug.’

You smile into the receiver, holding the mobile to your ear as you move to the sink, adding cold water to the tea. You look up through the window to find Frankie also stood before his, looking back at you. Mercifully, he’s found a shirt, but his bed head still has your stomach turning in cartwheels. 

‘What’s up?’

‘Saw your light on. Wanted to check you’re okay.’

You hold up your mug, cheersing him through the glass. 

‘I’m good. Just having a little drink.’

You watch as he cocks his hip against the counter. 

‘Yeah? What kinda drink you got?’

You exhale through your nose, rolling your eyes. 

‘Chamomile.’

There’s a beat, and then his voice is soft, tender.

‘Y’had a nightmare, too?’

You shake your head.

‘Not a nightmare, just a dream.’

‘Dad?’

You nod, sipping.

‘Yeah. You know how it is. Lucia okay?’

You watch him flick his gaze to the hallway, the stairs beyond your line of sight. Hear the scratch of his whiskers as he rubs at his beard.

‘She’s alright. Nothing a warm milk and her night light can’t fix.’

You smile at him.

‘You remind me of him, you know.’

Frankie pauses his scratching, peering out at you, surprised.

‘You’re a good dad. The best. He was, too.’

Your voice is low, affectionate. Something pulls deep in his gut, something that forces a tight bubble up his throat. He swallows a couple of times, closing his eyes to the kindness.

‘Thank you, bug.’

‘I mean it.’

He nods, voice crackly and deep when it comes to you.

‘I know.’

You watch each other a moment longer, separate rooms, separate houses, such closeness bridging those gaps. Frankie breaks the quiet.

‘You sure you’re okay?’

You smile, nod, sip.

‘I’m sure. Should head back to bed, anyway.’

Frankie hums down the line, thoughtful. A breath whistles through his nose.

‘G’night, bug.’

‘Good night, Fish.’

You wait for the beep of the disconnected line, Frankie’s wave through the window. The hard lump in your throat as you watch him retreat to the doorway of his kitchen, the darkness that stares back at you, the ache of being alone again on this moon of grief. 

And something quieter, more selfish. Creeping and tidal that laps at the edges, a want for a man you have convinced yourself you cannot have. A sadness that buzzes deep in your skin, curls back layers of your being, tells you that you cannot afford to be broken again. Not like your dad. Not like Annie. 

But you like him, your dad says. What’s so wrong with that?

You cocoon yourself tightly in your duvet, your back to the moonlight, the reminders. Tired eyes blinking at the door. Waiting. Waiting, in a different life, different house, different state, for eighteen year old you to tiptoe in and tell you about her nightmare. 

Waiting for you to tell her that her dad is right there.

That she should hold him a little longer before he drives home tomorrow. 

[cloudberry-sims]

I made a ship name list for my Sims 3 couples! ❤

I got bored okay and I started to think about ship names for my sims like any normal person would ?? I used a generator to help me since I’m awful at ship names.

(OBS! This might contain spoilers for future couples or characters and if it might mean something offensive , I apologies but it was the generator who randomized them , not me! Like I said I’m awful at ship names ) 

The Charm Legacy/Random Legacy couple:

Woss- Winter & Moss 💚

Vielo- Vanilla Lime & Cielo 💙

Vinto- Vanilla Lime & Minto 💚

Cirage  - Mirage & Calico. (fuck Calico!) 🤢

Marlett- Mirage & Scarlett (for those who might ship them. I do and I wished I could made them into a couple but the rolls said no ) 😥 

Chewy- Stone & Azura ( I laughed since that’s a combination of their last names Charm & Dewy and I love Chewbacca so)🤣 

Grint- Flint & Grape. 💜

Amylide- Arylide & Amarillo 🧡

The Quirrell Legacy/Harry Potter Legacy couple:

Cavalon- Avalon & Cassiopeia

Valin- Valhalla & Martin

Nerwalda- Merwalda & Nathaniel

Romrora - Romilda & Aurora.

Percia- Percival & Lucia

Remmersyn- Emmersyn & Raul

Prewiona- Prewitt & Ivona

Preth - Prewitt & ???

Prewu- Prewitt & ???

Livona- Leon & Ivona

Wyron: ??? & ???

Wendelica: ??? & ???

The Halo Legacy/Midnight Sun Challenge:  

Zalo: Halo & Zahri

Marsa: Mars & Ursa  

Urury- Mercury & Ursa 

Which couple is your favorite? I must say I love Cavalon as a ship name and Chewy just made me go awww ❤

[emotionsofthesoul]

Chapter 23 _ Yo La Amo

The following morning the girls awoke to another storm of messages and missed calls. They had no idea what they were waking up to but they knew whatever it was, they could and would face it together.

“What is going on now? Are they freaking out about the bridge thing?” Valentina said as she sat up beginning to unlock her phone.

“Val… that’s not… that’s not what they’re freaking out about. They’re talking about you cheating on me and then trying to make it up with the bridge. This article I was sent says Lauren went on the record to say you two have a thing…” Juliana said running her hand through her hair in frustration.

“I’m gonna kill her. Who the hell does she think she is and what the hell is Lauren thinking? I have done nothing to make her think she’d even have a chance. I didn’t even know she was gay!” Valentina said frustrated and turning her body to face Juliana, “Juls, you have to know this is all fake. I would never do that to you, to us. I love you. I am gonna fix this…” She said caressing Juliana’s cheek as Juliana leaned into her touch.

“I know. I trust you but for safe measures as of right now I don’t want you seeing that Lauren girl again because I just wanna beat her ass right now. No joke. What kind of friend does that?” Juliana said honestly.

Valentina began to laugh catching Juliana off guard.

“De que te ries?” Juliana said confused.

Valentina grabbed Juliana’s head and kissed her forehead. “I love you. The fact that you want to ‘beat her ass’ makes me love you even more because I just pictured that and I gotta say, not bad.” She finished causing Juliana to also laugh at the idea.

“I honestly don’t understand why the world cares so much about me and my family. Like why do gossip sites even exist? There’s no facts to what Lauren said.” Valentina said leaning into Juliana’s neck.

Juliana let out a small sigh before grabbing Valentina’s left hand. “Val. This was your people… It was published by El Centro. I think this was your sister. Look at the byline, isn’t that the same Mayela that was after your brother and conspired with Eva? Renata told me a bit about her and that drama.”

Valentina sat up instantly at that taking the phone from Juliana. “What! Okay, no. Get dressed, we’re dealing with this right now. I don’t care that she is my sister, she is going to listen and I need you there. Please.”

“Wait what are you going to do?” Juliana said standing up as Valentina gained a determined look on her face.

“I’m going to do what I should have done from the beginning. I’m gonna put an end to this. She’s had her fun but this too far.” Valentina said determined.

They got ready and within the hour headed to the offices. They were instantly met by the press as they drove into Grupo Carvajal. Once in the parking lot Valentina made her way over to open Juliana’s door and held her hand from the moment she stepped out the car. They decided to show the world that this was not going to come between them, that despite all of the drama, they were together and were going to be okay. Valentina had a proud look on her face to have Juliana’s hand in hers as she went to face the one woman she thought she would never have to defend herself against.

As they walked into the offices, everyone was staring at them causing Valentina to stand taller and more confident with Juliana by her side.

Making her way to the main offices she saw that Leon and Lucia already had Eva and Mayela in the conference room. “Val, what are you doing here, I’m handing it.” Her father said looking up to see his youngest daughter and her girlfriend in front of them.

Valentina let go of Juliana’s hand walked across the room slapping her sister. “How could you? Don’t you understand that I love Juliana? Do you know the damage you could’ve caused had she believed this? & you Mayela, you were my friend… who the hell do you think you are to publish something like that, attacking my character. Attacking the one thing that you were always sure about and had, my loyalty. You know I can end your petty career right? A snap of the finger and you’re gone from this company and this field of work. I’m not here to play games. This is real life, this is my life and that woman standing next to my father, is the woman that I love and I will not allow anyone to hurt her. Not even you Eva. I’m sick and tired of you thinking you have all the answers. You couldn’t stop Guille from marrying Renata, you couldn’t stop dad from marrying Lucia, what makes you think you’re gonna be able to keep me away from Juliana? What? Third time’s the charm? Think, Eva! Truly stop and think, you are literally just pushing the entire family away. Any faith I had in you, is gone. I want nothing to do with you.”

Eva had never seen her little sister so grown up and with such determination.

“That’s what you don’t understand. She doesn’t belong here. You need to end this little game before you ruin your life for her. You’re not gay, she’s only confusing you.” Eva said not backing down.

Leon grabbed Valentina before she had a chance to attack Eva. “Ya! Evangelina, stop that right now! This is your sister, for crying out loud! She shouldn’t have to defend herself against you.”

“Yo la amo. Amo a Juliana. Eva, I love her and I don’t care what you think about my relationship but I’m not going to allow you to attack either of us. I’ve had enough. Juliana is the girl that I love and I am willing to do whatever it takes to make sure she knows that. I am not confused about anything, she’s only made the facts clearer. I am in love with a woman. The most amazing, caring, honest, talented, and beautiful woman I have ever met and I don’t care who knows it. I’m not going to allow you to come between that. As of right now, I don’t want to see you, I only came to tell you that I’m done. Keep your distance, it’s what your best at anyway.” Valentina said walking towards Juliana who’s hand was being held by Lucia’s.

“Dad, I don’t know what you’re gonna do with your daughter but I want Mayela gone. She nearly destroyed Guillermo and Renata, I’m not running that risk with Juliana. I’m going live with Victoria tonight and setting the record straight because I am not going to allow the world to think I would ever do something like that to the girl that I love with all of my heart.” Valentina told her father as she held onto a silent Juliana protectively.

Her father had a look of pride as she spoke to him, replying, “Mayela signed her resignation letter right before you arrived. I will deal with your sister. Just please don’t make this a bigger deal than it’s already become okay, that’s all I ask, but yes I already set up the slot for you tonight because I thought you’d want to defend yourself.”

“Thank you papi.” Valentina said hugging her father. “Nos vamos, amor?” She said turning to Juliana who simply shrugged her shoulders in response.

As they walked out, all eyes were on them once again and this time Valentina had a huge smile on her face as she had her arm around Juliana’s shoulders with their fingers still interlocked.

When they arrived to Valentina’s car Juliana finally spoke. “That was insane Valentina… I love you. I love you very much but you didn’t have to cut your sister out for me. That’s your sister. In her sick twisted ways she was only looking out for you.”

Valentina became confused as Juliana tried to justify the one person who had been completely against her from the beginning. “I don’t know how you can defend her? Juliana, she was not going to stop. She thought publicly ruining my character was going to end out relationship without measuring the consequences of what that could do to me as a person and don’t even get me started on my career. What kind of family does that? I understand she’s against me loving another woman but this went way too far. I don’t want to argue about this okay, I just can’t look at her right now. This has gone way too far and I need to stay away from her for a while because I don’t know how to look at her and not be furious and disappointed. So please, don’t side with her because she had no right to do what she did.”

“I’m not siding with her. I’m not saying what she did was right because obviously it isn’t but I just don’t want you to regret this later, I love you too much to see you suffer over this. You have every right to be mad and upset at her, she didn’t take you into consideration at all with her actions; she did a lot of damage and not just publicly. You have a right to feel everything you’re feeling because your feelings are completely valid. Just please don’t bottle this in, it’ll only hurt you to do that.” Juliana said calmly tucking a strand of hair behind Valentina’s ear.

Valentina made eye contact with Juliana as Juliana caressed behind her ear. “Juls, I can’t forgive her right now. I don’t even want to look at her. I would have loved to have her come around but at this point I think that’s never going to happen and if it does I fear it might be too late.”

Juliana gave Valentina a soft sad smile before speaking. “Baby, just allow yourself to feel everything you need to feel, okay? I know that despite everything Eva is still Eva to you and everything she’s done, concerning us, hurts.”

As Valentina allowed her shoulders to relax she let her walls come down understanding that Juliana only wanted to be there for her and help in any way she could.

“Can we go grab a sandwich and head to the park, I don’t want to think about this anymore, I just want peace and quiet with you?” Valentina asked in a whisper.

“Anything you want, baby.” Juliana said as she pulled her seatbelt on.

They drove silently to The Sandwich Spot near the city college. Once they arrived, they walked hand in hand towards the front door. While they waited in line they looked over the menu on the wall to their right.

“Hey Val, what can I get you guys?” The girl taking their order asked looking at them with a bright smile definitely noticing the way Valentina held Juliana’s hand for comfort.

“Um, I’ll take the usual on a sweet roll no pickles or onions & Juls said she wanted a BLT on  sliced wheat. Thanks, Sarah.” Valentina said as she got her wallet to pay for the two of them.

They took a seat at a small table against the left wall.

“So who’s Sarah?” Juliana asked Valentina after a moment of silence.

“She’s an intern at the company. She’s a journalism student here at City College and works here part time, she’s actually how I found out about this place. We’ve been friends for a few years now. I’ll introduce you guys officially when she comes with our sandwiches.” Valentina said interlocking her fingers with Juliana’s across the table.

Juliana smiled knowing Valentina wanted to ignore the way people had been staring that them since they entered the shop. “Okay.” 

“You notice all the eyeballs, right?” Valentina said whispering so only Juliana could hear.

“Oh yeah definitely but I don’t care. Let them stare, I have the most beautiful girlfriend ever, they’re just jealous.” Juliana said reaching across the table to kiss Valentina softly on the lips.

Valentina smiled when Juliana sat back down. “I love you.” She told her letting out a small giggle.

A couple of girls walked over to them and Juliana tensed at their presence.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt… you’re Valentina Carvajal, right?” The girl in the yellow crop top asked knowing the answer.

Valentina rolled her eyes before looking up at them and saying that she was indeed and expecting to a negative reaction for today’s article.

Surprising them, the girl suddenly flashed a huge smile and excited said, “We just wanted to say thank you for being brave enough to openly date the girl you like despite the world being the way it is. This is my girlfriend and we love you guys. Juliantina gives us hope, thank you. We know, and seeing the two of you here confirms it, today’s article is a lie so don’t worry, many of us didn’t believe it.”

Valentina gave Juliana’s hand a squeeze as she spoke. “That was definitely not what I was expecting to hear so thank you. I’m happy to hear you and others didn’t believe any of that. This is the beautiful Juliana, my better half and I would never do anything to break her heart. I love her too much. Thank you.” She said as she brought up Juliana’s hand to her lips in order to place a quick kiss on it.

Juliana simply observed the way her girlfriend interacted with the fan while also observing how quiet the other girl was. At the mention of her name she smiled at them and nodded in a sign of hello.

The girls left as Sarah walked over with their sandwiches. Valentina introduced Juliana and Sarah, beaming at Sarah’s excitement of finally meeting the girl Valentina could never shut up about.

Afterwards they drove the short distance to Land Park to enjoy their sandwiches on a bench overlooking the pond on the west side of it. They spent the rest of the afternoon there before heading to Gunther’s Ice Cream for a quick treat on their way back to Grupo Carvajal for Valentina’s interview with Victoria.

 Once in the studio, ready to start the interview, Veronica asked what was off limits understanding this was a difficult topic given who was behind the publication. The only limit that was placed was revealing it was Eva who pushed the article out, everything else was free to speak about.

Veronica: Good evening, today we have a very special guest. She is known by many as the princess of this media empire. She is a woman of impeccable character and a dear friend. Please welcome, Valentina Carvajal.

Valentina: Thank you for having me, Veronica.

Veronica: So let’s get started, we all know why you are here. The article. Tell me a little bit about it.

Valentina: Well, today was a day of betrayal, but not by me. There were many factors leading up to the article but I think what hurt the most was knowing who wrote it and who was behind it. Now, I don’t want you going after the reporter, she was only following orders, but it still hurt nonetheless because I considered her a friend.

Veronica: So you’re not angry?

Valentina: Oh, I’m definitely angry, this was a direct attack from people I trusted. This was done out of malice to destroy my relationship by someone I love so I am quite mad but most of all I’m very disappointed in them.

Veronica: I see. Well, tell me a little about Lauren De Leon, who is she to you and why would she go public with something of this magnitude only for it to be a lie?

Valentina: Lauren. Well, Lauren is a colleague, a peer from the photography program at Sac State. As to why she would say this, I’m not sure. I’ve never once given her a reason to think there could ever be anything between us. Anyone who knows me and had been in my life since I met the wonderful Juliana knows I do not stop talking about her. She always find her way into every conversation I have because she is always on my mind. It is true that Lauren had been at my house often but it was always to talk about a project she is working on and asked for my help. It was a collaborative process that always took place in the living room. Something that many people can back up. As of right now, I’ve not seen one concrete fact from her statements, everything in that article can easily be debunked. The pool? It’s January… in Placerville, CA. It’s been in the 30’s and 40’s since November, you really think I would willingly go into a freezing pool simply to cheat on the woman that I love? The “kiss” please… do give me the details that I am not aware of. Show me the videos, you know they would exist if that kiss truly happened and especially if it was in my house. I can get the videos of every meeting we had for her if she’s willing to take this any further. I’m sorry, but she is definitely not my type. My type has a name and her name is Juliana Valdes.

Veronica: So there is nothing going on between you two?

Valentina: Definitely not. & she can absolutely take this up with my lawyer if she decides to pursue this any further.

Veronica: Okay, well we shall see how she reacts. What would you like to say as a closing note?

Valentina: Until today I’ve refrained from the spotlight so everyone thinks they know me from social media and gossip forums but they do not know the real me. I am not going to allow my name to be slandered like this again. I am in a beautiful committed relationship with a woman that I love more and more every day. People will say whatever they want but she and I know what we have. & what we have is each other and the love of those around us. Today we spoke with a couple that said we, Juliantina, inspired hope. That is very humbling and eye opening because until today I didn’t, and if I’m honest still don’t completely understand why there is such a fanbase to our relationship when we are just two girls who fell in love. I have the privilege of being who I am openly and having a tremendous support system but I know many don’t so to you I want to say that I’m here. We all have our journeys but if there is something I’ve learned it’s that at the end of the day I have to live with me so I have to love and accept me for all that I am.

Veronica: That’s beautiful. Thank you for coming tonight.

Valentina: Thank you for having me.

After the interview, Veronica thanked Valentina and Juliana for the opportunity to speak on the topic of their relationship. Soon after, the couple headed out hand in hand as the press awaited them by the parking lot exit.

[trustclips]

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[fableweaver]

Arc of the Cursed Monk

They had left the Court of Fates with little fan fair, even Kaden could not see them off he was so preoccupied with negotiations with the Princes for war. The only one to see them off was Jeanne, and that was from a distance as she glared at them as they left. Despite their promise to save the two she cared for she still seemed to hate them for being Regarian. Glen hoped that their success would help alleviate some of that hate; no one should live with such hatred in their blood.

As they rode out of the city and onto the dusty highway that lead south Glen signaled to Horace. They rode a little further ahead so Horace could talk without Pricilla overhearing. Glen made the sign of wisdom and question, Horace shrugging.

“Is this wise? Probably not,” Horace said. “But from my understanding it was Jeanne’s servant, Lucia, that was behind the assassination. Now that she is no longer the pretend Queen it should be safe for Pricilla to return. I know though that it will not be easy for Pricilla.”

Glen was not so sure that Lucia was no longer a threat, he has sensed when she had cut the thread from Arke. He had spent that night weeping, unable to go to Arke to ease the pain in her spirt. He did not know what it had cost her, but he was sure it was much. He did not hate Lucia for cutting the thread, he feared why she had. Still he did not have the ability to pass these fears to Horace, and he admitted he could be wrong. Maybe Lucia’s pain in torture had severed the thread, or maybe she was already dead. If she was still alive then Glen wanted to save her.

They rode along the south highway, the road no longer as well travelled as it once was. War had made merchants fear traveling to sell their goods, and the Rhodin had long since fled the Mark and Regis for Nyrgard and Daun. The followers of the Crippled One also roamed the roads, looking for sacrifices and to maintain their control on the villages that lay between the kingdoms. Glen had to use all his senses of the threads to avoid those that meant them harm, Horace and Pricilla unaware of his work. Horace knew to listen to Glen when he signaled, they should stop or ride hard, though he had no full understanding of Glen’s power he knew to listen.

When they reached the border of Regis they met with a coterie of knights, guarding the highway. They stopped when hailed and a few knights rode to meet them, three bearing lances while the fourth wore livery of a count. Glen wondered what they would make of their party, a man dressed in mail, one in Aldan robes, and a woman in travel skirts. Though all three of them were obviously Regarian they hardly looked it.

“State your business in Regis,” the count ordered, not even bothering introducing himself.

“I am Sir Horace De Modeste,” Horace answered, they had decided to state the truth when they met in Regis. “This….”

“Scum!” the count shouted cutting Horace off as he drew his sword. “You are the criminal wanted for the kidnap of the Princess and blasphemy of the gods! Capture him!”

The three knights immediately lowered their lances, horses shying away from the lowered weapons.

“Wait!” Pricilla shouted shrilly but the knights didn’t seem to hear as one lashed out with his lance. Horace expertly dodged, guiding his horse with his knees as another knight tried to unhorse him. Glen gathered his power, pulling on the aether as Bailey had recently taught him before they had separated again. Calling lightning was not an easy task of the Elder Magic, the air had to be charged already with a storm. Glen was fortunate enough that there was just enough charge to call lightning, it struck a nearby tree, the knight’s horses throwing them and fleeing back to the camp. Only the Count managed to keep his seat even after the ear splitting crack of thunder in the air.

“Sir knight!” Pricilla said loudly and he looked at her shell shocked. “I am Pricilla Drasir. These two men had saved my life from the assassin that killed my mother, the assassin sent by the then false queen. They are not guilty of the crimes you list.”

“My lady,” the count said bowing. “I am glad to see you alive, but the matter of these men’s guilts shall be determined by the king. Come, I will take you back to the king and see these men in chains.”

“No!” Pricilla said strongly. “I will not go with you if you will treat them as so. I am princess of Regis and of the Nine Kingdoms, my word is far above yours. These two men will accompany me to Care Leon where I will reward them for the stalwart duty they did for not only the High Throne but to me.”

The count set his mouth in a fine line, looking like he wished to argue, but Pricilla stared him down. These were not orders of a petty little girl trying to get her way, these were the orders of a Princess of the highest house in the Nine. The count bowed in the saddle; Pricilla had won.

“Very well milady,” the man answered. “Still I shall accompany you south…”

“No, you have a station here,” Pricilla said cutting him off. “Or will you also ignore the orders of your king?”

“No milady,” the count said shocked. “Then at least permit me to send some knights to accompany you.”

Pricilla looked ready to refuse him again, so Glen waved his hand to her. She looked at him and he shook his head, Pricilla frowning but nodding.

“Very well, but only five knights,” Pricilla said. “I will not remove more from their stations protecting Regis and my people from war.”

Glen saw the surprise on the Count’s face, but the man quickly covered it, Pricilla was proving more than he had expected it seemed.

“Very well,” he said. They were sent on their way with some supplies and five knights following them. The men did not introduce themselves and seemed to glare at Glen and Horace as they continued down the highway.

“Here milady,” Horace said handing Pricilla a bag. “Your jewels, I am sorry to have kept them.”

“I do not need them,” Pricilla said handing them back.

“You do, they will identify you as the Princess of Regis,” Horace said.

“The Aldan did not wear jewels,” Pricilla answered. “They wore their nobility in their bearing, all knew their queen when they saw her.”

“You are not a princess of Alda milady,” Horace said politely, Glen hearing his effort not to scold. “You are a Princess of Regis.”

Pricilla chewed on that a moment before taking the bag from Horace.

“I will don them before the city,” Pricilla said, and Horace nodded.

They rode on, their escort of knights a cold wall behind them. Horace slowly rode back to join them. He attempted small talk, but the knights ignored him, despite Pricilla’s words Horace had been found guilty in their eyes. But Horace kept at it, offering jokes and compliments as they rode. When they stopped to rest, he offered aid to the more heavily armored men, not in way of a servant by as a peer.

Horace treated Pricilla with a loyal formality, so Glen quickly followed suit. Glen also still regularly cast his prayers to Empyria, a habit he had never broken. Horace’s charm and Glen’s obvious piety slowly swayed their knight companions that the crimes they were accused of were obviously false and they were soon joking and talking with Horace as if he were one of their own.

Only Pricilla seemed to becoming annoyed with the formality Horace was now treating her with, she frowned and even tried to order him to stop being so formal but Horace simply said “yes milady” and continued. She looked ready to argue more when Horace pulled her aside.

“I am trying to gain these men’s trust Pricilla,” he said lowly, Glen standing between them and watching the knights as they prepared their horses for riding again. “I cannot do that if it seems like I act too harsh on you.”

“My word should be enough for them,” Pricilla said.

“Your word will never be enough,” Horace said. “And I am doing everything to make sure that I seem like I am your sworn knight and nothing more.”

“More?” Pricilla asked puzzled.

“Pricilla there will be rumors after your return that you are no longer pure…”

“But I am!” Pricilla said almost too lough and Horace shushed her.

“All the same there will be rumors,” Horace said. “As your sworn knight I will be far less likely to have done anything to you. Even then you might not escape, with Glen being a Sect we can hope that most will believe you. But some will try to suggest otherwise, to tarnish you enough that Elrik will marry you away to someone lesser or to weaken the Drasir name. You cannot give them fuel.”

Pricilla frowned angrily but they had to mount and start riding again before she could argue more. Glen realized then that though Pricilla had been a Princess of the Court of Miracles, her mother and age had protected her mostly from the dangers of the court. Her time in Alda had taught her little given the lack of intrigue in the Court of Dreams. She was to have a hard time in her return.

They rode along the southern highway, passing some merchants and staying at inns. The knights did not need persuading to keep Pricilla’s identity secret, it was far easier to guard an anonymous lady than a Princess of Regis. When they reached Cair Leone, it was as any other traveler along the dusty highway. Glen had expected to see a change in the city, Regis was still at war after all, but there was none. Cair Leone was still bustling, merchants still sold, and people still had lives.

The only change Glen could see was the beggars. Normally confined to Poor Man’s Paradise, the poorest residents of Cair Leone went unseen by most. Now there were beggars even in Odd Terminal as they rode into the city. Glen guessed even more refugees from the war had swelled the poor numbers to beyond the control of the city guards. Even as they rode into the Merchant quarter there were still beggars. They passed all as if none existed, Glen fearing he was the only one to see them until he looked at Pricilla. The Princess was frowning as they rode, Glen wishing he could ask her what she was thinking.

“Does it worry you?” Horae asked Pricilla lowly.

“Can there really be that many people that need to beg?” Pricilla answered.

“War levels many,” Horace answered. Glen wished he could argue, it was not just war that caused this. These people had been poor before the war, or just barely above. They never had the means to survive when disaster struck, so when it did, they had nothing. He had seen himself the difference of the lives from the Lords of Regis and the peasants of Regis. One man had more wealth than thousands combined, and neither knew how the other lived they were so far apart.

Even if he could speak Glen was sure his words would fall on deaf ears.

They rode up to the palace and were stopped by the guards, Horace having to formally announce Pricilla. Fortunately, they did not have to wait long, but the palace hummed with their arrival. It was not long for their horses to be led away, and servants hurrying to take their things. A servant asked if Pricilla wanted a bath drawn in her rooms, but Pricilla ignored him, marching past into the palace. Horace and Glen followed, no one stopping them. Pricilla marched through the halls to the throne room, Glen surprised at what they found there.

Elrik sat on a grand golden throne, the pelt of a black bear draped over one arm of the throne. He was opulently dress and wore his crown, looking surprised at their entry. At his side on the floor was what was left of Lucia. Glen recognized her even through the bronze mask, she wore a gray shift and a collar that was chained to Elrik’s throne. Her eyes met his and he balked at the mad merciless glint in them. Her spirit and threads drifted around her, untethered to Miread. She was drawing away from the world, having no care or love for life.

“Pricilla,” Elrik said surprised, not rising but his tone was not unwelcome. “I thought you were dead.”

“No, were it not for these two men I would be,” Pricilla said. “This is Sir Horace and Sect Glen, they saved me from the assassin that killed mother. The one sent by that woman there.”

Elrik raised an eyebrow and looked down at Lucia who cringed away from him. Glen did not see fear in her eyes however, she was only playing a part.

“Well, you see now she is paying for those crimes,” Elrik said as he shrugged. “And you are back unharmed?”

The question did not go unnoticed, Glen hearing the whispers go up among the court.

“Majesty,” Horace said as he took one knee before Elrik. “I can swear to the gods and you that Princess Pricilla is chaste and untouched, I guarded her with my life.”

More whispers but Elrik nodded pleased.

“The gods are fickle,” Elrik said. “But I trust the word of a man of steel and loyalty to me. I should reward one such as you.”

“Majesty the only reward I ask is to stay by the Princess’s side,” Horace said. “I have sworn to protect her, I must keep my oath.”

“Very well,” Elrik said. “Come Pricilla, sit by me so we can talk of where you have been.”

Pricilla nodded as a servant hurried to put a chair next to Elrik’s throne. The court went back to the conversations, many of them low to discuss this new event and gossip about where Pricilla had gone to escape the assassin. Pricilla took her seat, Horace and Glen standing to the side just within earshot. Glen noted a few servants saddle closer as well, the gossips of court would soon learn all of the coming conversation.

“So where have you been?” Elrik asked her lowly.

“Sir Horace took me to the Court of Dreams,” Pricilla answered, Elrik’s face growing dark.

“Why there?” Elrik asked.

“To be safe,” Pricilla answered. “The Queen treated me well.”

“You were hardly safe there,” Elrik said. “The army that killed father was moving into the forest.”

Glen knew it was only because Elrik was letting them, he was making no effort to stop the Orc army. And Glen doubted had Elrik known Pricilla was in the Court of Dreams that he would have changed his mind about letting the Aldan be wiped out.

“We didn’t know that then,” Pricilla said. “And we left before the war was getting too bad. We went to the Court of Fates then with an emissary that the Queen sent to request aid from the Mark.”

“And will they?” Elrik asked angrily and Pricilla nodded. Elrik slammed his fist on his throne, making Lucia wince away again. “Traitorous scum.”

“They only agreed if Alda promised to aid the Mark in overthrowing you,” Pricilla said afraid.

“How?” Elrik said. “They have no contender to the throne.”

“They do,” Pricilla said. “I saw him, he is the bastard of Terrian Alvar.”

“A bastard!” Elrik growled. “A bastard cannot inherit; his claim is far weaker than mine.”

“Some would like to see an Aldan on the High Throne once more,” Pricilla said and Elrik grumbled.

“Well they won’t,” Elrik answered. “I already have Dridia on my side, Lord Varus is in my pocket. He has gone to Xin to get me a bride from the king’s harem, so Xin will fight for us. And the Hyrians can be bought.”

“Hyria might not,” Pricilla said and Elrik glared at her. “Alora sent an emissary to them as well.”

“Alda doesn’t have the gold to buy Hyria,” Elrik scoffed. “And if Wildlough is smart he would not turn against me.”

Pricilla nodded; Glen glad she did not voice the doubt that was obvious on her face.

“But maybe I should make sure he does not,” Elrik said. “Now that you are back, what better way to make sure of Hyria’s loyalty than to join our houses?”

“You mean to marry me to the King of Hyria?” Pricilla asked quietly.

“It would be the most advantageous,” Elrik said nodding as he looked out over his court, he seemed ignorant that anyone could hear him. “You just reached marriable age after all. And he is a King, what better for a Princess of the High Throne.”

Pricilla glared at Elrik, hatred and pride on her face, Glen surprised that she felt that way. She schooled her face when Elrik turned to her, looking down to hide her displeasure.

“It would be an honor,” Pricilla said.

“Good, I’ll see about sending a message to the King then,” Elrik said. “It’s about time that wild dog came to a heel.”

“Of course,” Pricilla said and stood. “Forgive me brother, my journey has wearied me, I wish to return to my rooms.”

Elrik just nodded, waving her off uninterested. Pricilla left as Elrik leaned over his throne to casually strike Lucia several times as they left. Horace and Glen fell into step with Pricilla, Glen determined not to turn back to look at Lucia.

“Are you alright?” Horace asked Pricilla lowly as they left the throne room.

“No, how dare he decide so casually who I will marry like I’m some cow for auction!” Pricilla said angrily.

“It would have happened either way,” Horace answered. “What woman has chosen her husband?”

“The Aldan did,” Pricilla said. “All the ladies of court said they got to choose their spouse, or at least had a say. I deserve much better than Wildlough.”

“Better than one of the Kings of the Nine?” Horace said and Pricilla frowned. “Who?”

Pricilla gaped seeming off guard as she considered Horace a moment.

“You’re an oaf,” she said, her cheeks pink. Horace stared at her puzzled as she turned on her heel and continued down the hall. Horace looked at Glen, but he shrugged, not sure what Pricilla had meant. Shrugging they both followed her as she marched away down the hall. They did not get far when a lord hailed them. They turned to see Lord Lucas followed by grant Sect Ichabod.

Pricilla stopped as her uncle came up and embraced her, holding her at arm’s length.

“My how you’ve grown,” he said smiling. “I am so glad to see you alive and well.”

“It was all thanks to Sir Horace and Sect Glen,” Pricilla said smiling up at her uncle.

“Sect?” Ichabod said scandalized. “That man is condemned for blasphemy.”

“He saved my life, and I will not have you insult him,” Pricilla said strongly and both men stared at her shocked. “Sect Glen is one of the most devout followers of the Sect, you should be proud of him.”

“Pricilla…” Lord Lucas said both scandalized and about to scold but Pricilla turn on him with bright eyes.

“No Uncle you will heed me,” Pricilla said strongly. “Would you really punish one who saved my life? If you do, I will never talk to you again.”

Glen expected Lucas to argue, but instead he smiled and turned to Ichabod.

“Well it seems she is far stronger willed than even her mother,” Lucas said. “Do you think it will be enough?”

“Maybe,” Ichabod said impressed.

“Do not ignore me,” Pricilla said, almost stamping her foot like a little girl. Horace cleared his throat and she turned to him angrily. He simply tipped his head to the side with a look he reserved for when she was being the pettiest. Pricilla noticed and cooled her tempter, looking back at her Uncle and Ichabod. “Will you heed my request?” She asked a little more calmly.

“Well Sect Ichabod?” Lucas asked looking at Ichabod. The man frowned and looked at Glen.

“You swear servitude to the Sect Glen De Modeste?” Ichabod said. Glen shook his head and Ichabod glowered. Glen made the sign of Empyria and the gods, then the sign of oath. He was glad to see Ichabod chastised and the man nodded. “Of course, you swear then loyalty and love for the gods?”

Glen nodded making the sign of deep love and loyalty.

“My brother of course cannot speak,” Horace said. “I hope this is enough.”

“It is,” Ichabod said sounding tired. “At these times I believe we no longer have to liberty of turning against our own.”

“That is why we need you Pricilla,” Lucas said. “Come, you must be tired, how about a meal and some tea.”

Pricilla nodded relieved as her Uncle lead her away to a private room. Glen and Horace followed them in, neither Lucas or Ichabod arguing to their presence. Servants came in and started to set out a meal, rich dishes of meat, pastry, cheese, and fruits. Glen and Horace sat to Pricilla’s left, Ichabod and Lucas to her right. Glen looked up suddenly at one of the servants and met the dead eyes of the assassin that Lucia had employed to kill Pricilla. The man set down the dish he carried, not even blinking as Glen recognized him.

Horace turned and tensed as well but Glen messaged him to be calm. Pricilla did not react; she had never recovered her memories of the attack so did not recognize the man. He stepped back and took his place along the wall with another servant, unnoticed by everyone but Horace and Glen. Determined not to draw attention Glen looked away from the assassin to watch what transpired at the table, keeping in mind unfriendly ears were now watching.

“So, tell us where you have been all this time?” Lucas asked, sounding very much the concerned uncle. Pricilla launched into her story of thinking she had been kidnapped to their journey to Alma, to her stay at the Court of Dreams, and then the revelation of Xavier the last Aldan King’s bastard, and then their journey to Warren. Glen almost stopped her, worried she would reveal their oath to Jeanne, but Pricilla did not mention it.

Lucas and Ichabod absorbed her story with stone faces, asking little and keeping silent. When Pricilla finished, they sat in silence a moment before Horace dared venture to speak.

“And what has transpired here in the Court of Miracles?” Horace asked. “We’ve heard that Elrik refuses to lend aid to Alda and turn Lir back to its borders.”

“He has,” Lucas said sounding tired. “Much against our wishes we assure you. This Loe who claims to be Emperor is not good for any of us and should Alda fall the Kingdoms will be so imbalanced it will be even harder to crush this cancer before it spreads to our borders.”

“But surely Elrik must be eager to fight,” Horace said. “He has always been blood-thirsty.”

“He would rather see Alda fall,” Lucas answered. “And believed that after the fall of Alda the Lirian forces will be so weakened by the effort it will be easy to defeat them.”

“That is non-sense,” Horace said horrified. “I’ve seen the Aldan forces, they are fighting to the women and children, the only reason they hold is because they fight in the forests that have been their homes for centuries. To the Orc armies they are little more than a kernel caught in their teeth.”

“So, I’ve told Elrik for months,” Lucas said. “He will not listen.”

“I fear the false god may have gotten to him,” Ichabod said gravely, and Glen looked at him shocked. “He has turned away from the advice and counsel of the Sect and the Gods.”

Glen waved his hands and Ichabod looked to him, he made the sign of knowledge, false, and gods.

“You have knowledge of the false god?” Ichabod said puzzled and a little wary.

“My brother has told me that it is an enemy of the Phay,” Horace said. “It is a dark spirit that pretends to be a god and seeks to destroy all of the kin of the Phay.”

“The Phay…” Ichabod said frowning, he was not pleased. Glen quickly made the sign of good, true, and friends. “The Phay are blasphemy that some suggest the gods were modeled after them,” Ichabod said watching Glen closely. “What about you?”

Glen made the sign of spirit, shook his head, then the sign of gods.

“They are spirits not gods?” Ichabod said. “What would be the difference?”

Glen made the sign of life and long time, then gods with the sign of eternity.

“So, the gods live forever when the Phay do not?” Ichabod said. Glen nodded and made the sign of death. “The Phay can die,” Ichabod said. Glen nodded and then signed spirits, shook his head, and made the sign of blasphemy. He made the sign of blasphemy, gods and spirits, and rumor. This time Horace interpreted his sign.

“I believe he means that the Phay are not blasphemy,” Horace said. “The blasphemy is saying that the gods are based on the Phay. Which I’m sure he doesn’t believe.”

Glen nodded and Ichabod seem to digest this for a bit.

“I agree, the suggestion is blasphemy,” Ichabod said. “Were that I could have a real conversation with you Sect Glen on the nature of these beliefs. But we cannot, so I will wait for a writing of yours on this subject. For now, is there anything more we need to know about the false god?”

Glen made the sign of cripple and singular.

“His name is the Crippled One?” Ichabod said intrigued. “Why?”

Glen held up his hands helpless, unable to explain naming or how such names came to be with only his hands.

“Another writing then,” Ichabod said sighing. “Very well, then can you tell me how it has ensorcelled our king?”

Glen though of how to answer, the Crippled One had not used any power to control Elrik, but he knew Lucia had in some way manipulated Elrik to. Though she was now a creature of the Crippled One, he wasn’t sure when the change had taken place. As far as he could see Elrik’s spirit was free of the Crippled One’s touch, it was most likely Elrik was acting on his own bad decisions. So, he decided to answer with as much truth he could.

He signed free, shook his head, and then signed darkness.

“He has not been controlled by the Crippled One?” Ichabod said and Glen nodded.

“Then there is a chance we can redeem him back to the gods,” Lucas said. Glen almost winced, he was unsure they could convince Elrik to listen. “That is what we need you for Pricilla. We need Elrik to marry and produce and heir, once he has, we can attack the Lirian army and win back Lir.”

“Me?” Pricilla said.

“You are his sister,” Ichabod said, and Pricilla made a face.

“He won’t listen to me,” Pricilla said. “He’d never listen to me.”

“Try,” Lucas said. “And keep trying, we need you to do this Pricilla.”

She looked from her uncle to Ichabod frowning.

“He does not listen to either of you?” Pricilla asked.

“His only advisor he listens to now is Lord Varus Lonelove,” Lucas said. “He has fortunately left court to get one of the Princesses of Xin to be Elrik’s bride. We cannot have a Xinian queen, we need a Regarian Queen. With how Elrik has been, taxes and bullying, many of the Regarian lords are discontent. He has shunned the Sect as well which has only made matters worse. He is Regis’s King as well as the High King, if he loses Regis, he loses his base and the High Throne will crumble. If he wants to keep his throne, he will need to mollify the Regarian lords, to do that he needs a good Regarian wife.”

Pricilla’s mouth puckered; she knew not to ask if they had told Elrik this. He had been told and he ignored their advice, how could Pricilla even manage?

“I will try,” she answered though Glen wasn’t sure what she was thinking.

“Thank you,” Ichabod said relieved. He opened his mouth, seeming to about to ask her how she was going to convince Elrik but Pricilla spoke first.

“I am tired now, I’ve had a trying journey here,” Pricilla said standing. “I wish to retire now.”

“Yes of course,” Lucas said standing as well. “Your rooms should be ready now.”

Pricilla nodded and left, going out into the halls and back to the women’s wing. Here where there used to be knights guarding there were none, Glen realized the women’s wing was now empty, there were no more women of the royal family but Pricilla. They arrived at Pricilla’s rooms to find everything freshly dusted with a meal laid out before the fire. She let Glen and Horace follow her in, locking the door behind them.

“Are we safe to speak now?” Horace asked and Pricilla nodded. “How do you plan to convince Elrik to marry? Or free Lucia and Nicodemus?”

“I don’t plan on convincing my brother of anything,” Pricilla said. “I only agreed because it was all I could do. It would be easier to convince him to go to battle, maybe then he’ll die and I can take the throne.

“As for Lucia and Nicodemus I was hoping you two could devise a plan, one that does not put suspicion on me.”

Glen’s mind spun, surprised at Pricilla.

“You plan on taking the throne?” Horace said shocked.

“Not the High Throne,” Pricilla said. “The Regarian one, Xavier can have the High Throne.”

“Regis has never had a single Queen,” Horace said. “And will the other Regarian lords really be alright with returning the High Throne to Alda?”

“I’m not sure,” Pricilla said as she sighed and stared at the fire. “I’m not sure how I will get the throne either. I just know that this course is the best for Regis right now. And I plan to do it.”

Glen realized then Pricilla had come to this decision on her own, sometime in the journey ago. In her too he also saw a person he would now be proud to call Queen, he only hoped it would be enough. Horace seemed to notice the same as he nodded.

“You’ve grown,” he said, and she looked at him. She blushed and nodded, seeming pleased. “Well then me and Glen will see about freeing Nicodemus and Lucia, perhaps we might also find a way to win you a throne.”

Pricilla smiled at him and it was Horace’s turn to blush a look away. Glen sighed and signed for attention, feeling bad about getting between the two. Horace looked at him and Glen signed, mask, shook his head, and darkness.

“Lucia?” Horace said and Glen nodded. “You don’t think we should rescue her?”

Glen made the sign of ability and shook his head.

“You don’t think we can rescue her,” Horace said.

“Why not?” Pricilla asked.

Glen signed darkness and false god.

“The Crippled One?” Horace asked and Glen nodded. “He has her now?” Glen nodded again.

“What do we do then?” Pricilla asked. “We swore we would save her.”

“I don’t believe we can,” Horace said. “I think Jeanne will be content with Nicodemus, he is her lover.”

“She seemed to care about her servant too,” Pricilla argued.

“I think if we free her now, she wouldn’t come with us anyways,” Horace said.

“We should still try,” Pricilla said.

Glen sighed again and signed he would try, which Horace conveyed to Pricilla.

“You should rest now Pricilla,” Horace said. “We’ll go about to see if we can save Lucia and Nicodemus.”

Glen shook his head and signed protect.

“I should stay here and guard Pricilla?” Horace said and Glen nodded. “Glen it is dangerous for you to go about court alone.”

Glen shook his head and signed power, pointing to himself. Horace sighed and looked from Pricilla to Glen.

“Very well,” Horace said. “Rest will milady, I will be outside your doors guarding you.”

“Thank you,” Pricilla said, and Glen and Horace left. Before Glen left, he walked in front of Pricilla’s doors and windows, setting wards. Pricilla and Horace did not question what he was doing, he had done it a lot on their travels and seemed to either know what he did or did not want to question him. His wards done Glen turned to leave.

“Be careful,” Horace said standing outside Pricilla’s door. Glen nodded and left, going down the halls. He passed servants and plenty of other nobles, but Glen went by unnoticed by most. He caught a few words here or there of gossip and was unsurprised to find most of it about the nobles of Regis and their daily lives rather than about war. There was no mention of Elrik’s search for a wife either, but Glen suspected the nobles were afraid of gossiping about their king. No, here everyone seemed to be ignoring the world at large and was only concerned with their own selfish interests.

Glen went to the throne room, glad to find Elrik had left, only a few courtiers and guards standing around. Lucia was alone, chained to Elrik’s throne like a forgotten dog. Her eyes burned though as Glen went up to her and knelt in front of her.

“I knew you would come,” Lucia said coldly. “Come to beg me back for that bitch?”

Glen was surprised to hear Lucia call her former mistress so. Though he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, Jeanne had caused Lucia nothing but pain.

“No,” Lucia growled angrily, seeing his surprise. “The weaver.”

Glen nodded and made the sign of Iris.

“I am no one’s puppet,” Lucia said, though she didn’t understand Glen’s sign. Glen raised an eyebrow at that.

“I was Jeanne’s shield, her protector,” Lucia said. “I willingly gave what I did to serve her, she would have done the same for me.”

Glen pointed to her chains and mimed breaking.

“Jeanne sent you to free me?” Lucia asked and Glen nodded. “Well she’s too late for that. I’m not going back to be her pity pet.”

Glen could not read her face behind the mask, but somehow, he realized she was smirking at him; like a cat that knows it cornered a mouse yet the mouse did not know. He realized then why the assassin was still here, and that Lucia planned something. Glen nodded looking away to stand up and hide his realization. Lucia said nothing as he left, but he felt her eyes burning into his back as he left.

He wasn’t sure how much time they had, but he doubted it was much. He needed to convince Pricilla to leave, the how of that though eluded him. Whatever Lucia planned Glen doubted it planned for Pricilla to be in the picture. But first he still needed to keep his word to Lucia.

He found Nicodemus’ rooms by the threads in the air, and the guards that stood outside. His rooms were still by the library, he was still a lord after all. He feared the guards would not let him past, but they didn’t even question him as they let him in. It seemed they thought little of their captive and of Glen. Inside the room was dark, Glen supposed Nicodemus no longer had need of candles or light. He moved carefully through the room to a desk where he could just make out Nicodemus slumped over some books.

“I have tried to read for some time by touch,” he said as Glen stood over him. “Did you know the Aldan were kind enough to pen some books in such a way one without sight could read? Neither did I, though slow it might be it is more than I could ask for.”

Glen felt more than pity for Nicodemus, he himself having suffered mutilation could sympathize with another. He put a hand on Nicodemus’ shoulder, unable to communicate with a blind man.

“Thank you,” Nicodemus said. “I suppose you more than anyone can understand me. I recognized you by scent funnily enough, and the sound of your steps. I sadly do not have any reports for you of the whereabouts of the song, I am sorry you came here for nothing.”

Glen patted his shoulder earnestly, pulling on Nicodemus’ sleeve to get him to stand.

“That is not why you are here?” Nicodemus said surprised. “But what else would cause you to take such a risk as to come here?” Glen stopped puzzled, then realized he meant Lucia. He drew a question mark on Nicodemus’ shoulder and Nicodemus hung his head. “Ah, so you do not know. I am surprised not everyone in the palace knows of it, the servants have been talking of little else. Though I suppose they are less guarded around me, but I’m blind not deaf. I’ve heard of the coupe, it is hard for me to track the days, but I believe it to happen tonight, maybe tomorrow.”

Glen felt ice run down his spine and tugged more urgently on Nicodemus’ sleeve.

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Nicodemus said. “I’ll welcome death when it comes, only one will mourn me.”

Glen wanted to shake him and decided that he would since it seemed the only way to communicate with Nicodemus. Grabbing him by the collar Glen shook Nicodemus, not too hard, but hard enough heard the other man’s teeth knock together. He stopped, gasping for breath, waiting for Nicodemus to respond.

“Well,” Nicodemus said rattled. “I admit I did not expect that, nor for it to work. Very well, lead the way.”

Relieved Glen took Nicodemus’ arm and started to lead him out of his room. They left easily the two guards now asleep at their post. It had been easy to lull their minds to sleep with the Elder Magic given how bored and lax they already were. Glen lead Nicodemus back to the women’s hall, none of the servants or lords they passed bothered to pay them any mind. There still were no guards at the women’s hall given it was empty of any of the royal family. At Pricilla’s door however there was no one, Glen was sure Horace would have been waiting outside.

He peeked into the rooms to find them empty, Pricilla was not in her rooms. He told Nicodemus, spelling out the words by writing on his palm.

“The main hall then,” Nicodemus said. “There is probably a feast to celebrate her return and she will be there.”

Glen nodded and lead Nicodemus back through the halls to the main hall. He heard the sounds of music and merrymaking from down the hall, arriving to find a full feast going on. It wasn’t hard to find Pricilla at the head table with Elrik and Lucia still chained to Elrik’s throne. But they were not the ones Glen was worried about. He scanned the crowds, looking for the assassin, but it was impossible to spot the servant in the crowd of people.

“Elrik won’t listen to us if we warn him,” Nicodemus said as Glen started to lead him through the crowd. Glen nodded but part of him feared Nicodemus didn’t even want to warn Elrik or stop what was going to happen. He fortunately found Horace standing to the side of the high table, still in his mail and alert.

“You brought him here?” Horace said surprised. Glen made the sign of betrayal and danger.

“Lucia is planning a coup,” Nicodemus said. “Tonight, or tomorrow. Either way we should flee now.”

Horace frowned, obviously believing them but also seeing the problem of getting Pricilla out of danger. Glen had an idea then and signed waiting and patience.

“Wait?” Horace said startled. “We should just wait for the coup to happen?”

Glen nodded and then signed insight.

“You have a plan?” Horace asked. “Can you tell me?”

Glen shook his head, unable to convey the plan in his limited range of communication.

“Then let’s wait,” Nicodemus said unconcerned. “Seems our best option, maybe it won’t even happen tonight.”

Glen doubted it, this was a prime opportunity to have the coup. Most of the nobles were now gathered in one place, and at their ease with wine and food. If had been planned for the next night, it would be little trouble to change plans to tonight. Glen turned all his attention to the crowd, looking through the servants for the assassin. He would be the one to watch, Lucia chained as she was would not start the coup, the assassin would make the first move. He soon realized looking with his eyes would not work, there were just too many people and the assassin would be working not to be seen.

Instead Glen closed his eyes, reaching for the aether. It took little to send his spirit just on the brink of entering the lines, feeling the threads of the future and fates around him. He felt them humming with tension, an event of great import was coming, he should have checked the threads long ago before they even arrived. Realizing his lack of foresight would not save him, he concentrated hard on the threads, trying to read what was about to happen.

He found it, a knot of the threads, thousands of threads ending suddenly after the knot. Glen carefully felt out the threads, looking for the cause of the knot. He found a blood red thread linked them all and at the same time was the cause of the sudden severing that was to come. Glen opened his eyes to see the holder of the thread was Lucia. She was watching him, her face unreadable under her mask but Glen knew then they were too late.

Shouts rose up from the other side of the hall, knights and guards milling about. Elrik heard the commotion and stood, his hand dropping to his sword. A knight came pushing through the throng of courtiers, questions and shouts following him.

“Silence!” Elrik barked though it did little for the din of the room. “What is it?” He asked the knight as he strode up.

“A mob majesty,” the knight answered with a quick bow. “They have risen up from Poor Man’s Paradise, they have taken the merchant’s quarter and move for the palace.”

“Well stop them,” Elrik said sounding frustrated. “You are knights of the Gods armed with swords. How could a lowly mob hope to take the palace?”

“The gates have been opened for them by the merchants,” the knight answered, Glen wondered why the man did not remove his helm, something was not right about him. “We fear it is treachery.”

“Treachery!” Elrik said looking wildly about the court. “Which of you whore sons dare defy my rule?” Elrik shouted glaring around the room. “Speak!”

“I do.”

Elrik turned to see Lucia standing behind him, her chains in her hands.

“You?” Elrik scoffed and then laughed. “Some measly whore peasant?”

“That is High Queen Lucia of the Mask to you,” Lucia said calmly. “Slayer of the last High King of the Nine.”

Elrik sneered as he drew his sword, but Lucia laughed and raised her chain. With a swift yank she broke her chain as easily as if it were a length of thread. Elrik swung at Lucia who dodged aside with ease. Glen saw the knight move then as Elrik swung again at Lucia who dodged his wild swing again. The knight came up not to the defense of Elrik, but to drive a gauntleted fist into his unprotected side.

Elrik cried out in pain as the fist slammed into his kidney, driving him to his knees. Elrik gasped and whirled around to look up as the knight removed his helm, revealing the assassin.

“Wha,” Elrik gasped, reaching for breath.

“Meet my loyal dog,” Lucia said smoothly. “He kills for me, though it will not be his pleasure of killing you.”

“Guards,” Elrik croaked. “Guards!” He called louder. Glen looked up and realized then that the commotion they had seen at the other end of the hall was actually the tail end of a battle, men armed with swords and dressed as normal workers or as the Bandaged Brothers had already moved into the hall. They nobles were all being pushed into the center of the room, men and women calling out in fear as they were gathered.

“No one is listening,” Lucia said merrily. “The only ones here are those who listen to me.”

“Impossible,” Elrik growled looking up at Lucia. “You whore!”

Lucia only held out her hand and the assassin put his sword in her hand.

“Call me what you will majesty,” Lucia said mockingly. “I will call you dead.”

Elrik tried to stand but the assassin kicked him in the groin. Elrik fell moaning and Lucia reached down to pull him up by his hair.

“Long live the king!” Lucia cried out and brought the sword down in a wide swing. It was a sharp blade, taking Elrik’s head off in one clean swipe, drenching Lucia in a splatter of blood. She raised up Elrik’s head and the mob cheered and roared.

“Kill them all!” Lucia cried out and swords fell. The room erupted into chaos as the armed men fell onto the courtiers of the Court of Miracles, swords flashing and blood spilling. Glen felt and hand on his arm and he jumped turning to see Horace behind him. He had Pricilla clinging to his other arm, Nicodemus clutching her other arm.

“What are you waiting for!” Horace hissed.

Glen nodded and took his hand, calling on the aether. Stepping sideways with so many people was hard, but Glen put all his desperation and will into the feat. He led the small party towards a servant’s hall, several servants huddling in fear behind some tapestries. Glen dared not look at their scared faces, it was all he could do to hide the three people with him, he could not save them.

The servant passage was deserted until they reached a wider corridor, Glen stopping just before he ran into a Bandaged Brother standing guard. Before he could say anything, Horace stepped forward, he sword sliding free of his sheath silently. Horace stabbed the man in the back, covering his mouth as he felt soundlessly to the floor. Sword still drawn Horace looked quickly around before signaling them on, taking Glen’s hand again.

They went through the palace, hearing screams and cries and doing nothing to aid those who cried for aid. Glen heard Pricilla weeping which he was glad she made effort to muffle as they wound through the halls. They at last reached the stables only to find them engulfed in flames.

“Where to now?” Horace asked, only his eyes betraying his fear. Glen felt the threads and found a familiar one not far away. He led the way into the gardens, there finding Puzzle and several other horses gathered. All the horses were afraid, the whites of their eyes visible in the ruddy glow from the blazing stables, except Puzzle who stood ready.

“Knew you would come,” Puzzle said in the beast speech. Glen nodded, wishing he could thank the little horse, he had saved the horses here. They mounted quickly, bareback since the horses had fled without tack, Horace scattering the rest of the horses easily before them. In a stampede of horses, they hit the gate of the Palace. The gate itself was open, several men standing guard there. As they rode under the gate Glen glimpsed bodies already hanging from the gates. Ignoring them he bent over Puzzle’s neck, arrows flying by.

They rode free of the gate but did not stop, Glen doubted any of them would be able to stop the horses now that they were given their heads to the fear that drove them. It was a mad dash through the city, Glen catching glimpses of the city. People ran about the streets, screams, and cries a cacophony of terror as buildings burned and mobs ran wild killing and taking what they pleased. As they neared the edge of the city the more crowded the streets became, people were fleeing the city. But none dared standing in the way of the horses, some did not get out of the way in time, Glen hiding his face from the sight of innocent people being run down.

Then they were free of the city, hitting the open road leading south. They were far ahead of others that were fleeing shortly, and hopefully pursuit as well. They did not stop until the horses slowed at last, coming to rest in an open moon lit field. Glen raised a prayer to Lun in gratitude, has hands shaking over the prayer signs.

They dismounted, the horses shaking and covered in a foamy sweat.

“What now?” Horace said, his sword still drawn. Glen bent and picked a handful of grass and motioned to the horses. “See to the horses? Glen Cair Leone just fell!”

Glen made the sign of savior and Horace grimaced. He nodded and helped Glen rub down all the horses as they grazed. Pricilla and Nicodemus sat together saying nothing, Pricilla silently weeping. Once their task was done Glen and Horace joined them.

“So, Regis falls,” Nicodemus said.

“No,” Pricilla said dashing away her tears. “It does not. I am Queen now, and I will not see my kingdom fall.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Nicodemus asked.

“By force,” Pricilla said. “We ride for Menfer, the Sect will aid us.”

“We rest first,” Horace said. “These horses will take us nowhere as they are now.”

Glen wondered if Pricilla would succeed, his mind going to the threads seeking answers but only finding them in a knot still. They lay to rest and Glen let his spirit wander. The lines were astir with the events of the night, Glen using the chaos of the aether to travel unnoticed to Astolat. He found Arke bent over her mirror still, knotting frantically at the tapestry she wove. He sat next to her marveling at her beauty though she never turned to look at him.

“Will Pricilla win?” Glen asked.

“I see her in a crown, and in a grave,” Arke answered. “The future is still unclear. But you should leave her and your brother all the same.”

“Why?” Glen asked.

“The song is about to be found,” Arke answered. “Eileen reborn is near, you must go where you are needed.”

“Where?” Glen asked.

“To the Battle of the Fells,” Arke answered.

“Is it the final battle?” Glen asked.

“There will be two great battles,” Arke answered. “One in Daun in the Battle of Troll Pastures, the other in Alda in a place that will become known as the Fells of Sorrow. Follow the threads, you will find it.”

“I will,” Glen said but did not rise to leave. “You will march then with your kin?”

Arke did not answer and Glen realized her hands had stopped on her weaving.

“I cannot turn away from my mirror,” Arke said and Glen felt a cold hand grip his guts. He reached out and cupped her face, Arke leaning towards his hand as if it were the only warmth she had ever felt.

“I will find a way to free you,” Glen swore and Arke shuddered, there was power in his oath in Astolat. He felt her tears as they slid from her eyes, he knew she wished to argue but at the same time her love could win against her concern.

“Go,” she said thickly. “You have a long road ahead.”

Glen nodded and stopped to kiss her hair before he rose and walked away into the waking world. Dew was thick on the grass as he rose, Pricilla and Nicodemus asleep under the shelter of a rowan tree. Horace stood over them, but Glen noticed he was dozing on his feet, a blessing no doubt of Arke. Glen did not have the time or heart for a farewell to his brother. He looked at him one last time before going to one of the horses, mounting and riding away into the mists of morning without a glance back.

[jucks72]

7 vini da non perdere fra le novità 2018 Cuzziol

New Post has been published on http://www.it-gourmet.it/2018/01/25/7-vini-da-non-perdere-fra-le-novita-2018-cuzziol/

7 vini da non perdere fra le novità 2018 Cuzziol

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L’evento, ormai divenuto una vera e propria mini-fiera, con i banchetti di quasi tutti i produttori distribuiti, è stata l’occasione per presentare i risultati economici dell’anno passato, le future strategie e le nuove acquisizioni.

Il bilancio 2017

«Abbiamo chiuso il bilancio 2017 in positivo» ha dichiarato Luca Cuzziol, ad di Cuzziol Grandi Vini, «con un fatturato di 13,2 milioni di euro, in crescita del +16,3% sul 2016, e un aumento dei clienti attivi del +13,9%. Crescono anche l’utile lordo, passato dal 4,8 al 5,3%, e i dipendenti, che ora sono 18, contro i 14 dell’anno precedente».

  Luca Cuzziol

  Sono 12 le nuove aziende nel catalogo Cuzziol 2018

Il catalogo, la cui copertina color ardesia indica la volontà di distribuire produttori profondamente legati ai territori di origine, «con particolare attenzione ai vini bianchi dei Paesi mitteleuropei», ha visto l’ingresso di ben 12 nuove realtà. «La scelta che ci ha guidato all’inserimento delle nuove aziende è stata dettata dalla logica di completamento del progetto terroir» dice Luca Cuzziol.

Le new entry nazionali

Sono quattro le nuove cantine italiane in catalogo. Patrizia Cadore, con Lugana e San Martino della Battaglia, in Lombardia. Mongioia, che produce solo Moscato d’Asti, si affianca alle piemontesi Marco Porello e Parusso. Leonardo Bussoletti, che da agente di Cuzziol Grandi Vini è diventato produttore a Narni, in rappresentanza dell’Umbria e del Ciliegiolo. Infine Masseria Li Veli della famiglia Falvo (fondatrice dell’azienda Avignonesi a Montepulciano), in Puglia.

  De Loach

  Borgogna, Loira e Bordeaux

Per quanto riguarda i produttori oltreconfine, la Francia fa la parte del leone, con due aziende di Borgogna: Domaine Coffinet-Duvernay, a Chassagne-Montrachet, e Domaine Vincent Bouzereau, a Mersault. Due aziende della Loira: Domaine Arnaud Lambert, a Saint-Just-sur-Dive, e Domaine de Juchepie a Bellevigne en Layon. E un’azienda di Bordeaux, Château Caronne Ste-Gemme, a Haut-Médoc.

I bianchi mitteleuropei (e una new entry californiana)

Cresce, come detto, l’interesse per i vini bianchi da Germania e Austria, soprattutto per le varietà Grüner Veltliner e Riesling. «Sono vini freschi, giovani, nuovi e comunque legati a un terroir con alle spalle una grande storia da raccontare» sottolinea Cuzziol. Ecco dunque, dal Burgenland, in Austria, Weingut Krutzler e dalla Renania-Palatinato, in Germania, Weingut Gunderloch. Chiude le novità De Loach Vineyards a Santa Rosa, in California, che si affianca a Opus One Winery, non distribuito, però, in esclusiva.

  Krutzler

  7 vini da non perdere fra le novità 2018 Cuzziol

Ho concentrato gli assaggi della giornata sui vini delle nuove aziende. Tra i tanti, tutti ottimi, ce ne sono 7 che mi sono rimasti nel cuore:

Vincent Bouzerau – Mersault Les Narvaux 2015

A dire la verità questo vino si contende il podio delle mie preferenze aziendali con il Mersault 1er Cru Charmes 2015, ora però meno pronto; non è un caso che lo Chardonnay a Mersault regali alcuni dei bianchi più fini di Borgogna. Il naso, elegante e burroso, sfoggia, su tutto, sentori di agrumi dolci, mentre il percorso gustativo evidenzia freschezza, slancio e una lunga vita davanti a questo bianco. 91/100

Domaine de Juchepie – Les Monts Anjou 2015

Juchepie è il nome della collina nel cuore del Coteaux du Layon, a sud di Angers. Da uve Chenin coltivate su terreni scistosi e vulcanici, con argilla superficiale. Già dal naso, fresco ed elegante, si intuisce un uso sapiente del legno, che emerge con intriganti note di cedro candito; le stesse si ritrovano nella bocca, precisa, lunga, scandita da un’acidità che sorregge un frutto in grande equilibrio. 90/100

Weingut Gunderloch – Rothenber Riesling Grosse Lage GG 2015

Siamo nella Rheinhessen, la più estesa regione vinicola della Germania, dove l’azienda è stata fondata nel 1890. È un trocken da vigne vecchie, piantate su roccia friabile. I profumi, freschi e floreali, si fondono con una leggerissima nota idrocarburica. L’assaggio conferma le impressioni olfattive e restituisce un riesling al contempo slanciato e potente, molto tipico. 90/100

Weingut Krutzler – Perwolff Sudburgenland 2015

L’azienda è un’icona della varietà Blaufränkisch, che coltiva nella regione della Burgenland, a sud di Vienna, su terreni con elevata presenza di ferro. Il vino nasce da vigne di 40-50 anni, fermenta in tini aperti e affina in barrique nuove. Il naso è elegante, morbido e speziato, con sensazioni terrose e leggeri sentori di vaniglia. La bocca conferma le impressioni olfattive, con un grande succo e un percorso all’insegna di slancio e persistenza. 90/100

Mongioia – Moscato d’Asti Crivella 2003

Dimenticate il Moscato come l’avete inteso finora. Quel che è racchiuso in queste mezze champagnotte e un vino di grande fascino e complessità, perfetto testimone di quel che può dare quest’uva nel tempo. Una leggera carbonica scandisce un percorso gustativo dove l’esuberante nota aromatica del vitigno si trasforma in un piacere sottile e sussurrato, con un intrigante finale su note di miele. Assolutamente da provare. 90/100

Arnaud Lambert – Les Perrières St-Cyr Saumur Blanc 2016

Da uve Chenin coltivate in biologico. Un naso di grande eleganza, incentrato su frutta matura e refoli minerali di grande freschezza, introduce un sorso calibrato sull’equilibrio e la sapidità. Ottima persistenza per un vino semplice solo in apparenza, con un allettante rapporto tra la qualità e il prezzo. 89/100

De Loach – Pinot noir Maroboshi Russian River Sebastopol Hills 2013

De Loach, nella Russian River Valley (contea di Sonoma), vanta alcuni primati importanti, essendo tra le aziende pioniere del Pinot nero in California e tra le prime certificate in biologico. È un Pinot nero che coniuga freschezza e potenza, con un legno presente ma piuttosto bene integrato e leggeri, ma piacevolissimi, sentori di scorza d’arancia, perfettamente fusi alle note caratteristiche della varietà. 88/100

[geddy-leesbian]

I can write 12 year old Leon so damn well,,,, then I try to write Sherry or Lucia or any other kid that age and my brain just MELTS 🙃 idk man

[helios7media-blog]

Famous Buildings and Historical Monuments in Spain

Here are 10 of the famous monuments and Historical Monuments in Spain

Spain is the paradise of architecture. Few countries in the world gather as compactly as many architectural styles and buildings as breathtakingly beautiful as Spain does. Strolling through any of its cities is like embarking on a journey through time through its cobbled streets, historic monuments and unique architectural pieces. This country is the Mecca of stylish construction. In fact, some of the monuments on the list were pioneers in their day. Before its construction, it was thought impossible to exist. Discover large buildings and monuments in spain! Among all the answers that you have sent us in " The best of Spain, " we present you to the ten best monuments of Spain. Which is your favorite cool monument in Spain?

1. Alhambra of Granada, Andalusia - One of the top 5 famous monuments in spain

Arab writers used to compare to GranadaLike a great Crown in whose front it excels the diadem of the Alhambra. Although of an eminently Nasrid style, this monument is a superposition of different eras and architectural styles. It was originally built in the year 889, in the middle ages, and then largely ignored until the Moorish conquest. The Muslims removed this palace from the ruin and turned it into an authentic architectural jewel. With a clear Byzantine influence, the artists who forged this piece of monument developed a new style that is reflected in the capitals, arches and decorative details of the ceilings. When the Christians took control of Granada, they began to alter parts of the castle to make room to the rebirth removing arabesque details and decorations. Still today,

2. Mosque of Cordoba, Andalusia - One of the Popular Arabic Monuments in Spain

And from one Spanish-Muslim work to another. In fact, it is said that the construction of the Alhambra in Granada is inspired by the magnificent details of the mosque of Cordoba. This Umayyad-style religious building began to be built in 785, following the Muslim invasion. The work grew throughout the duration of the Islamic conquest. But once the Christians regained control of the city, the modifications and additions began. Back in the 1500's a Renaissance-style basilica was incorporated into the mosque. The Christian cathedral and the Muslim mosque became a single building, which they are today. Without divisions neither physical nor spiritual, two opposite worlds in many ways coexist in perfect harmony complementing each other stylistically.

3. Aqueduct of Segovia, Castilla y Leon - Among 5 famous monuments in spain

In the middle of Castilla, we find a loophole of what once was one of the best civil works in history. It is the imposing aqueduct that the Romans built there in the first century and served to transport water from the mountains to the city. The aqueduct of Segovia has 166 arches that run about 15 kilometers across the countryside and urban area. This marvel of civil engineering has been standing almost intact for thousands of years despite wars and conflicts. In 1992 the municipality of Segovia decided to cut the traffic below the aqueduct as the vibration produced by the traffic was affecting its structure.

4. Sagrada Familia, Barcelona - Famous monuments in barcelona spain

Really interesting monuments in Spain. The Sagrada Familia is the unfinished work of the modern architect Antoni Gaudí. Well, it's much more than that. It is the monument that brings together more tourists a year in Barcelona. This colossal temple is one of your favorites for many reasons. But one of them is the magnificent façade of the Nativity, richly ornamented. Or its interior, which resembles a forest of white columns that are colored by the reflection of the sun on the large windows of stained glass. If you approach there, you will see how they are working on the construction of the first sacristy and the central towers. And when they finish, the main façade, also known as the Portal de la Gloria, remains.

5. Cathedral of Burgos, Castilla y León- One of the famous cathedral in leon spain

It is difficult to speak of the Cathedral of Burgos without paying special attention to its main façade inspired by those of the cathedrals of Paris and Reims and which is considered as the most important sculptural manifestation of Gothic in Castile. Although impressive, we recommend that you take your time and enjoy all the treasures that are hidden inside. Of note are the Condestable Chapel, in Elizabethan Gothic style; As well as the wonderful golden staircase and the tomb of the Cid and Dona Jimena. Come on, one of the monuments in Spain that you should see already ... if you have not already done so.

6. Cathedral of Toledo, Castilla-La Mancha - Famous cathedral in Toledo Spain

The Cathedral of Toledo is the masterpiece of Gothic art in Spain. But it was not always like this. They say that in the place where today stands majestically this Catholic church before was the one that was the mosque of Toledo, and in her, it is possible to see some of its vestiges. When you go, look at the Islamic column embedded inside the chapel of Santa Lucia, the marble shafts that line the exterior of the choir or the interlocking arches of caliph style in triforium of the Chapel of May. I'm sure you're in love with this incredible piece of history.

7. Wall of Avila, Castile, and Leon - Ancient Stone monuments in Spain

Apparently, you like stones and history. Or at least that is what can be deduced from the fact that the Wall of Avila is one of your favorite monuments of Spain. This huge piece of living history is the world's most well-preserved walled enclosure. The wall of Avila was built between the XI and XIV centuries to prevent Muslim attacks on the city and still stands today, the silent witness to battles and conflicts. If you want to know it well, we recommend you take a walk outside, if possible at night, to see it illuminated. They are only 3 kilometers, and you will give the view.

8. Teatro Romano de Mérida, Extremadura - It is among the most famous monuments in spain

The Teatro Romano de Mérida is the oldest monument in this list of the best monuments in Spain. Its construction dates back to 15 or 16 BC, for the entertainment of the high society that lived in Colonia Iulia Augusta Emerita. With the fall of the Empire, the theater fell into disuse and was buried underground until an archaeological excavation in 1910 rescued it from oblivion. Ironies of fate, today this Roman building is still used for the same purpose for which it was erected more than 2,000 years ago. Each summer hosts the International Festival of Classical Theater in Merida and is the best backdrop to see the Trojans telling their misfortunes or witness the miseries of Oedipus.

9. Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, Galicia - Most popular cathedral of santiago de compostela

When you get to Santiago Cathedral be sure to surround it well until you reach the main facade: the Obradoiro. Go up the stairs. Once inside, you will receive a magnificent Romanesque work depicting the History of Salvation. The view will take you to the High Altar. Climb up the right side and give a hug to the image of the Apostle who presides over the temple following the centuries-old tradition of the pilgrims. Below is the crypt, the true goal of the Way: the walls of the ancient tomb and, in the middle, the urn containing the remains of the Apostle Santiago. Salt of the Cathedral by the South door, the Door of the Silverware. Look at the facade. In the mullion, between the arches of the two gates, there is a Crismon, symbol of Christ. But the letters are reversed: the Alpha has become Omega and vice versa. The end is beginning. The goal of the Path is now the beginning of another path, of the new life you begin. A cathedral was full of symbolism and messages. Do not miss it.

10. Alcázar of Seville, Andalusia - Typical monuments in spain

The Alcázar of Seville exudes sensuality, charm, and exoticism. As with the Alhambra in Granada, this walled palace is a kaleidoscope of styles. Between the Patio of the Maidens, the Hall of Ambassadors, the baths, the Garden of the Poets or the Hall of the Tapestry can be seen represented almost all the architectural styles of history (Gothic, Mudejar, Islamic, Renaissance, Baroque ... ). This is not surprising considering that the Alcazar has witnessed Viking attacks, civil wars and even births of kings. With every stage of the history of Spain, the palace expanded and was taking shape until our days. Do not miss the theatrical visits that stage the history of the place with much more style and sympathy than any bulletin or informational pamphlet. Also they organize them when the sun has fallen and, that, in Seville always is to thank. Note geek: just tell them that it served the Game of Thrones _ to locate the palace of one of its most exotic kingdoms, Dorne. Click to Post

[profndugu-blog]

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[voodoo-lovespells]

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[jajazedde]

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Famous Buildings and Historical Monuments in Spain

Here are 10 of the famous monuments and Historical Monuments in Spain

Spain is the paradise of architecture. Few countries in the world gather as compactly as many architectural styles and buildings as breathtakingly beautiful as Spain does. Strolling through any of its cities is like embarking on a journey through time through its cobbled streets, historic monuments and unique architectural pieces. This country is the Mecca of stylish construction. In fact, some of the monuments on the list were pioneers in their day. Before its construction, it was thought impossible to exist. Discover large buildings and monuments in spain! Among all the answers that you have sent us in " The best of Spain, " we present you to the ten best monuments of Spain. Which is your favorite cool monument in Spain?

1. Alhambra of Granada, Andalusia - One of the top 5 famous monuments in spain

Arab writers used to compare to GranadaLike a great Crown in whose front it excels the diadem of the Alhambra. Although of an eminently Nasrid style, this monument is a superposition of different eras and architectural styles. It was originally built in the year 889, in the middle ages, and then largely ignored until the Moorish conquest. The Muslims removed this palace from the ruin and turned it into an authentic architectural jewel. With a clear Byzantine influence, the artists who forged this piece of monument developed a new style that is reflected in the capitals, arches and decorative details of the ceilings. When the Christians took control of Granada, they began to alter parts of the castle to make room to the rebirth removing arabesque details and decorations. Still today,

2. Mosque of Cordoba, Andalusia - One of the Popular Arabic Monuments in Spain

And from one Spanish-Muslim work to another. In fact, it is said that the construction of the Alhambra in Granada is inspired by the magnificent details of the mosque of Cordoba. This Umayyad-style religious building began to be built in 785, following the Muslim invasion. The work grew throughout the duration of the Islamic conquest. But once the Christians regained control of the city, the modifications and additions began. Back in the 1500's a Renaissance-style basilica was incorporated into the mosque. The Christian cathedral and the Muslim mosque became a single building, which they are today. Without divisions neither physical nor spiritual, two opposite worlds in many ways coexist in perfect harmony complementing each other stylistically.

3. Aqueduct of Segovia, Castilla y Leon - Among 5 famous monuments in spain

In the middle of Castilla, we find a loophole of what once was one of the best civil works in history. It is the imposing aqueduct that the Romans built there in the first century and served to transport water from the mountains to the city. The aqueduct of Segovia has 166 arches that run about 15 kilometers across the countryside and urban area. This marvel of civil engineering has been standing almost intact for thousands of years despite wars and conflicts. In 1992 the municipality of Segovia decided to cut the traffic below the aqueduct as the vibration produced by the traffic was affecting its structure.

4. Sagrada Familia, Barcelona - Famous monuments in barcelona spain

Really interesting monuments in Spain. The Sagrada Familia is the unfinished work of the modern architect Antoni Gaudí. Well, it's much more than that. It is the monument that brings together more tourists a year in Barcelona. This colossal temple is one of your favorites for many reasons. But one of them is the magnificent façade of the Nativity, richly ornamented. Or its interior, which resembles a forest of white columns that are colored by the reflection of the sun on the large windows of stained glass. If you approach there, you will see how they are working on the construction of the first sacristy and the central towers. And when they finish, the main façade, also known as the Portal de la Gloria, remains.

5. Cathedral of Burgos, Castilla y León- One of the famous cathedral in leon spain

It is difficult to speak of the Cathedral of Burgos without paying special attention to its main façade inspired by those of the cathedrals of Paris and Reims and which is considered as the most important sculptural manifestation of Gothic in Castile. Although impressive, we recommend that you take your time and enjoy all the treasures that are hidden inside. Of note are the Condestable Chapel, in Elizabethan Gothic style; As well as the wonderful golden staircase and the tomb of the Cid and Dona Jimena. Come on, one of the monuments in Spain that you should see already ... if you have not already done so.

6. Cathedral of Toledo, Castilla-La Mancha - Famous cathedral in Toledo Spain

The Cathedral of Toledo is the masterpiece of Gothic art in Spain. But it was not always like this. They say that in the place where today stands majestically this Catholic church before was the one that was the mosque of Toledo, and in her, it is possible to see some of its vestiges. When you go, look at the Islamic column embedded inside the chapel of Santa Lucia, the marble shafts that line the exterior of the choir or the interlocking arches of caliph style in triforium of the Chapel of May. I'm sure you're in love with this incredible piece of history.

7. Wall of Avila, Castile, and Leon - Ancient Stone monuments in Spain

Apparently, you like stones and history. Or at least that is what can be deduced from the fact that the Wall of Avila is one of your favorite monuments of Spain. This huge piece of living history is the world's most well-preserved walled enclosure. The wall of Avila was built between the XI and XIV centuries to prevent Muslim attacks on the city and still stands today, the silent witness to battles and conflicts. If you want to know it well, we recommend you take a walk outside, if possible at night, to see it illuminated. They are only 3 kilometers, and you will give the view.

8. Teatro Romano de Mérida, Extremadura - It is among the most famous monuments in spain

The Teatro Romano de Mérida is the oldest monument in this list of the best monuments in Spain. Its construction dates back to 15 or 16 BC, for the entertainment of the high society that lived in Colonia Iulia Augusta Emerita. With the fall of the Empire, the theater fell into disuse and was buried underground until an archaeological excavation in 1910 rescued it from oblivion. Ironies of fate, today this Roman building is still used for the same purpose for which it was erected more than 2,000 years ago. Each summer hosts the International Festival of Classical Theater in Merida and is the best backdrop to see the Trojans telling their misfortunes or witness the miseries of Oedipus.

9. Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, Galicia - Most popular cathedral of santiago de compostela

When you get to Santiago Cathedral be sure to surround it well until you reach the main facade: the Obradoiro. Go up the stairs. Once inside, you will receive a magnificent Romanesque work depicting the History of Salvation. The view will take you to the High Altar. Climb up the right side and give a hug to the image of the Apostle who presides over the temple following the centuries-old tradition of the pilgrims. Below is the crypt, the true goal of the Way: the walls of the ancient tomb and, in the middle, the urn containing the remains of the Apostle Santiago. Salt of the Cathedral by the South door, the Door of the Silverware. Look at the facade. In the mullion, between the arches of the two gates, there is a Crismon, symbol of Christ. But the letters are reversed: the Alpha has become Omega and vice versa. The end is beginning. The goal of the Path is now the beginning of another path, of the new life you begin. A cathedral was full of symbolism and messages. Do not miss it.

10. Alcázar of Seville, Andalusia - Typical monuments in spain

The Alcázar of Seville exudes sensuality, charm, and exoticism. As with the Alhambra in Granada, this walled palace is a kaleidoscope of styles. Between the Patio of the Maidens, the Hall of Ambassadors, the baths, the Garden of the Poets or the Hall of the Tapestry can be seen represented almost all the architectural styles of history (Gothic, Mudejar, Islamic, Renaissance, Baroque ... ). This is not surprising considering that the Alcazar has witnessed Viking attacks, civil wars and even births of kings. With every stage of the history of Spain, the palace expanded and was taking shape until our days. Do not miss the theatrical visits that stage the history of the place with much more style and sympathy than any bulletin or informational pamphlet. Also they organize them when the sun has fallen and, that, in Seville always is to thank. Note geek: just tell them that it served the Game of Thrones _ to locate the palace of one of its most exotic kingdoms, Dorne. Click to Post

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