#making out at the office throne room and forge

[winepresswrath]

There is a sad lack of Orodreth/Celebrimbor. Really letting down the Gil-Galad's dads extended universe.

[humanpurposes]

(Teaser) It Will Come Back

Chapter 3, Broken Bonds

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

A/n: I feel bad that it's been forever since this series had an update, and I'm just feeling silly today so I thought I'd share a lil something of what I've been working on (to hopefully motivate me to finish the chapter lmao).

Now…

The heat is relentless this summer. Light bleeds through the ancient stained glass windows of the Red Keep in beams of red, green, blue and gold, only to be lost to the dark wood floors, furniture and panelled walls. It is Aemond’s least favourite time of year, when the weather makes him irritable and the harsh light gives him a headache, when business tends to be busy and everyone is preoccupied with holidays and garden parties. He’s less inclined to distract himself with frivolity. 

His sleeves are rolled up, his long silver hair pulled into a ponytail, sweat starting to pool underneath the eyepatch over the left side of his face. He’s leaning over Aegon, one hand on the back of his chair, staring down at his laptop and they check over some details for next week’s event.

It’s not often Aemond finds himself in his brother’s office. Technically Aegon is his superior, ‘deputy operations manager’ according to the golden plaque on the door. This is more of a courtesy title because he couldn’t get a respectable job anywhere else, and it would be far worse for their father’s image to have a layabout son.

That’s the funny thing about the family business. It’s no secret that Viserys Targaryen didn’t want his sons involved in Dragon Bank, but his influence is not as all encompassing as he would like to believe, not since the Hightowers got a foot in the door thirty or so years ago… then another… then another. Viserys can make his demands and shout when he’s angry enough, but there is one truth he cannot deny; he needs them. He needs Otto. He needs Alicent. He needs Helaena and Daeron to stay perfect. He needs Aegon to not be a fuck up and that’s enough. And he needs Aemond because he’s good at his job. No one has an eye for detail like him, no one can make sense out of figures or persuade clients and investors like he can.

Why their grandfather wants him to look over PR and marketing nonsense is understandable, but irritating nonetheless.

Their father has been planninging this event for years, Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary gala, with all the pomp and grandeur of a bygone era, held at their ancestral seat of Dragonstone Castle, just outside the city. Five hundred years since one of their ancestors forged a throne for himself in King’s Landing, building an empire that still has most of the country under their family’s thumb. Viserys intends to use the occasion as a reminder to every individual and family in Westeros who thinks they are even slightly important that they cannot compare to the might of the Targaryens. 

There can be no oversights. Everything has to be perfect.

His eye scans over the diagram on the screen, circles surrounded boxes with names; the seating plan in the main ballroom. Then a name catches his eye and it makes his heart stop. He doesn’t want to believe what he sees but there it is on the screen, in Times New fucking Roman: Jaya Velaryon.

He’s hardly heard that name, read it, or heard it in six years. He can already feel a dull ache creeping into his skull, which he knows will catch like kindling and soon become a burning, blinding pain behind his eyes and in the crevices of his scar.

Aegon, completely oblivious, huffs a little laugh to himself. “Shit, yeah, I meant to say there was an update with the seating. So this could turn out to be quite interesting– fuck, are you alright?” 

“Fine!” Aemond snaps, staggering back from the chair. His head feels like it’s been run through with a knife and his fingers fumble to get his eyepatch off. “Fine– fuck! I’m fine.”

“Sit,” Aegon orders, quickly standing and guiding Aemond over to one of the leather sofas on the other side of the room, where the sunlight isn’t so direct.

The pain is often like this, striking suddenly, spreading quickly like a forest fire, eating away at him like a disease, and he has no choice but to endure it.

He feels the eyepatch slip from his face before something cold presses against the worst of his scar. He reaches up to clasp his hands around it: a glass water bottle, one Aegon is holding. His brother is useless most of the time but he does have his moments.

“Fuck it’s all red,” Aegon mutters. “Have you got meds with you?”

When Aemond opens his mouth to speak his jaw is trembling. “Office,” he says, gritting his teeth together, trying to control his breath and the extent of the pain. “It’s in the office.” He can see where the packet is in the first draw under his desk.

“I can go and grab some–”

“No,” Aemond says, grabbing Aegon’s arm so he won’t move. 

He can handle this. Every time this kind of pain flares up he thinks of how much it hurt that night, how terrified he was as he felt the blood gushing from the gash in his eye, slipping through his fingers. The pain had been so great he thought it might kill him. If he can get through that night, the first few hours in the hospital, the months of recovery or the years since, then he can get through a fucking headache. 

He closes his eye and breathes in counts of three. In through the nose, hold, and out. Between that and the bottle against his face the pain starts to feel a little duller and the room doesn’t feel so close.

“Is it… you know,”

Did seeing Jaya’s name shock him so severely that his body went into meltdown? Is his heart still pounding in his chest at the thought of reading her name and the possibility of seeing her again? 

Aemond exhales irritably against the back of his throat, defeated, but always stubborn.

[luciana-morningstar]

One-Shot "Hell Tales"

Aged Up Characters

Donnie x Fem OC (INFM)

Rated PG-13 it's just fluff but there is implied nudity. No descriptions though.

My one -shots are starting to become episodes in a mini series and I don't know how to stop it lol

:: Hope ::

The doors to a sizable office burst open as Donatello strode within still covered head to toe in his black armor.

"Vayil. Reschedule my meeting with Beelzebub for a later date. And cancel my meeting with Mammon, I have no desire to make a deal with the insolent prick if he thinks he can make claims on the southern quadrant of Cyberhex without so much as breathing in my direction."

Donatello was already snapping orders to the gray skinned demon assistant that sat behind a plain black desk, typing away at the keyboard situated in front of him.

Vayil's frosty blue eyes regarded his newest overlord with curiosity and barely veiled irritation.

"Your grace it took me seven months to secure that meeting with Beelzebub. Are you so hasty to reschedule?" The demon asked, his serpentine tail coiling the desk leg nearest to it.

Donatello pressed two small buttons at the base of the underside of his helmet, a matte black motorbike-like helmet that had an Oni mouth on the bottom half, the visor was the red and blue that his previous goggles used to be, the helmet now taking on the ability to collect data readings on mystic energy as well as other things, he then pressed another button at the base of his throat and then one on the eight pointed star in the center of his armor covered plastron.

The steel armor that encased him, complete with arm and leg gauntlets, spiked shoulder guards and a keeled scale-like covering for his shell, contracted in on itself, chainmail, helmet and all, folding in and condensing within the eight pointed star on his chest. Nano-tech made with Hell forged steel, state of the art in Hell and the new staple armor of all the Royal Guardsman. His was the only one with the helmet of course.

He gave Vayil a pointed look, now left in his simple black slacks, black arm and leg wraps and his purple mask of course.

"Vayil, not that I need to explain myself to you but I'm only returning right now because Lucifer has requested my presence in the throne room. Would you like to tell the Lord of Hell that I cannot attend because of a meeting with Beelzebub?" He quirked one drawn on brow at the demon who paled, sweat beading at his temples.

"Of course not, your grace. My mistake. I will be in contact with Bub to reschedule." The demon bowed his head ever so slightly.

"Good. Thank you, Vayil. Please forward all calls and emails to hold. I wish to not be interrupted." The softshell said as he stepped out of his office and into a small elevator that would take him up one level, one ring of Hell, to the Pride Ring.

Cyberhex was directly below the Pride Ring, within the Greed Ring, and housed not only the entire technological hub of Hell but every Fallen or demon employed at said hub. It was the epicenter for every technological or scientific advancement that Hell had now, courtesy of Don himself, the Overlord of Cyberhex.

The elevator was silent. Don loathed elevator music so that had definitely not been included. He liked to get his thoughts in order in the silence.

The 'ding' alerted him that he had reached his intended level and the doors slid open to a corridor of the palace that for a long time before him had been unused and dusty. Now it had gained new life with the addition of framed photos on the walls that consisted of everything from candid shots of him and Luciana, Leo and Draconia, Raphael and Shaydrim or Mikey and Gemino, to family selfies, to more candid shots of him and Eris or Luciana with her. Or just Eris.

His favorite one though was a shot of his wife standing in front of the leaded glass windows of their bedroom with a two year old Eris in her arms. The duel suns had just started to rise, casting the room in dusky hues of blue, pink, purple and orange, illuminating the faces of his wife and child and passing through the gossamer fabric of the night gown she had been wearing, making her look more ethereal than she usually did.

As he passed by the photo he let his fingers brush over it for a moment before continuing down the corridor.

There was no official court being held at this time so he wasn't concerned with activating his armor as he made his way through the massive castle to a set of massive double doors with a depiction of a battle carved into them. They opened for him without him needing to touch them and he passed through into the waiting darkness of the tunnel that led down into the Shakespearean theatre-like room.

As he approached the exit, the torches illuminating the end of the tunnel, he could see Lucifer seated at his throne looking severe, as Don got closer to the Fallen Lord, his green eyes, the same as his daughter's but brighter, flicked in his direction.

"Ah. Donatello, thank you for coming. I know your schedule has become quite busy these days." Lucifer stood and gave Don a respectful bow of his head.

"Please, Luce. You needn't thank me. You are family." Don gave his father-in-law a more traditional bow at the waist which had the Lord of Hell tutting at him.

"Family needn't bow to each other then, hm?" Don's lips quirked up into a smirk as he rose back up.

"The matter that I needed you for is...quite simple. I thought you may want to deal with this particular individual yourself." Lucifer sat back down in his throne and Donatello's brows knitted in confusion.

The king of Hell gestured at the doors on the other side of the throne room that opened on que and two armored Fallen drug a writhing, screaming demon into the room.

Donatello's curiosity piqued as he turned to fully face the two guards and their query, his hands clasped behind his shell.

The Fallen guards tossed their charge forward towards the black marble dias and Don looked down into the furious face of none other than Abrahm. The incibus who had entered Lux's dreams in the mirtal realm and attempted to strangle her.

He immediately felt his canines lengthen and his horns, wings and tail flickered into being, glowing the purple neon hue of his Ninpo.

"Well. Well. Well." Don stepped down a step for each word, his tail wrapping lazily around the incubus' neck as he circled behind him.

"You are certainly a sight. It's been a while has it not?" Don intoned, his lips lifting in a bloodthirsty smile, his sharp teeth glinting in the torchlight.

Abrahm spit at the ground at the softshell's feet and snarled back, blue eyes blazing and his own teeth sharpening.

"Tsk. Tsk. Better watch your temper, Abrahm. It would be a terrible shame if you angered me. I already would like to kill you. I'm just deciding how I plan to do that." Donnie leaned forward, his brown eyes bled over into solid black, sclerae and all.

"Fallen mongrel. You do not scare me." Abrahm snarled.

"What a shame." Don gave his best pouty lip before standing back up straight and climbing the stairs of the dias again.

"You found this cretin for me? That was awfully generous of you, Luce." The terrapin gestured for one of the guards that stood behind the thrones to come forward.

"Have the dungeon prepare their most comfortable suite for our guest." His grin must have been feral combined with the pitch black of his eyes because the Fallen guard shuddered as his gaze connected with the Prince Consort's.

"Yes, your grace." The guard bowed low and spun on his heel to exit the throne room.

"Does The Evening Star know he is here?" Don asked Lucifer as he turned back towards the incubus at the bottom of the dias, regarding him with nothing but cool indifference.

"She does not." Lucifer said lowly.

"Good. Let us keep it that way. In her condition I would not want her to endure any undo stress." Don said as he watched the two Fallen guards drag Abrahm away again as he tried to dig his heels into the hard marble floor and pull himself free.

"How is she? She is well, isn't she? I heard your brother ordered her to remain on bedrest and minimal activity." Lucifer asked just as the doors closed with an ominous thud after the demon had been dragged away.

"Her immune system weakens significantly while she is pregnant. We have noticed particularly during the second trimester. Although this occurred in the third, which, I am hopeful means this pregnancy may actually reach full term. She just contracted the flu. The fever has already broken but she has issues keeping food down...again...and increased fatigue. She also experienced a bit of light bleeding but Leo isn't too concerned yet. But he did mention that as soon as she is feeling better she needs to become active again but to keep an eye on her because bed rest can increase the risks for a blood clot." He finished with a heavy sigh. His eyes returned to normal and his Fallen form disappeared as if it were a neon sign getting turned off.

Lucifer grimaced and sighed as well.

"You two take such good care of her, and yet I cannot help but worry." He stood from his throne, his golden wings fluttering in agitation.

"You're her father. I would expect nothing less. I worry about Eris when she's perfectly fine standing in front of my face." Lucifer chuckled at Don's comment about his own daughter.

"Since her fever has been gone you can visit her again. I know she enjoys your company. And she far prefers how you make that tea she likes. I'm a coffee drinker so I'm not well versed in tea like you, her and Leo are." Don added. Lucifer's green gaze found his brown eyed one and Don saw is father-in-law's expression lift.

"I think I will do that. But, since you took time off to come here, why don't you go to her instead. I can keep her company on the morrow when you are off making this place run like a well oiled machine. Which, if I don't say it often enough, I am immensely grateful for." The fallen angel said, resting his large hand on Don's broad shoulder, a privilege that only family got.

"I appreciate it every time you do say it. And you do say it often." Don chuckled and Lucifer grinned in return.

"Off with you. Let me know what you decide to do with our.....guest." Lucifer's tone darkened with the last and Don's expression hardened.

"Of course." He nodded to the king before he turned and hastily made his way out of the throne room and back into the maze of a castle.

When he reached his and Luciana's room he pushed the black double doors open and then closed them behind him only to suddenly have his leg enveloped in a tight hug.

"Daddy!" Eris squealed in delight as he lifted her off the ground and swung her around in a circle before clutching her to him in his own embrace and pecking the top of her head with a kiss.

"I thought you wouldn't be home until late?" He turned towards the sitting area where Lux was seated on the couch with a mug of something in her hands.

Don couldn't help melt at the sight of her. She looked better today than she had in a week. But she still had dark circles under her eyes and her hair, that he had to braid back for her, was frizzing up.

And yet she was still beautiful to him because even in her haggard state she still exuded grace and elegance, even with her stomach swollen with child, she still radiated poise and power.

She stole his breath every time he saw her again after he was done with whatever work he had on a daily basis.

"I wasn't supposed to be. Something came up and it freed up the rest of my day. So now I get to spend some much needed time with the two most beautiful girls in this gods be damned place." Donnie told Luciana as he carried Eris over to the couch.

"Who?!" Eris whipped her head around to look at him, her red hair fanning out around her head and whipping him in the face causing him to sputter and her to giggle.

"Uh, duh. You and your mama." Don sassed at her, nuzzling into her cheek and pretending to eat her, causing her to giggle in response and squeal when he used his free hand to poke at her ticklish sides.

"What have you and your mother been up to?" He asked, pecking a kiss to Eris' cheek.

"We are watching Brave!" Eris told him.

"Ahhhh. I see. One of your favorites." He set the little girl down and she tugged on his hand to follow her around the couch.

"She had me watching ocean documentaries for the first few hours. Especially if they involved sharks." Luciana's lips turned up in a soft smile and Don chuckled.

"What have you got there?" He asked her, nodding to the mug.

"Hot cider. You know I have to have it. It's September." She smiled broader.

"And it's staying down?" He sat down on the edge of the couch cushion and reached over to rub at her leg. "Have you eaten anything?"

Luciana winced and sighed.

"I did manage to keep down some toast earlier and Drake brought me some bone broth that stayed down. But do you know what I really want?"

Don tilted his head to the side in question.

"I really want a burger. Like...with everything on it. It sounds so good." Lux sighed, letting her head fall back.

Donnie gave her a lopsided grin as she looked back up at him.

"That's fantastic news that you actually are craving food. Do you want to maybe try a plain one first? I can text Leo right now and tell him to get to the nearest BK, stat." Luciana's smile returned.

"Please? I finally don't feel nauseous and I'm hungry but I haven't had any energy to get up." She told him.

"Because you haven't been able to eat, dearest. You have no energy. Why didn't you tell me?" He furrowed his brow, concern lacing his voice.

"Oh, Don, I know how busy you are. I don't like to interrupt you while you are in the office."

Don scowled at her and stood up so he could lean over her, he locked gazes with her and his scowl faded to a genuinely concerned expression.

"Luciana. I am never too busy for you. Nor Eris. Or any of my family. If there is one thing I have learned growing up.... it's that family is the most important thing...and that you should always be there for your family." He closed the distance between them with a tender kiss that had her sighing against his lips.

Pulling away he immediately tapped at his arm gauntlet to bring up a hologram of a text conversation between him and Leo.

He typed quickly at the little holographic keypad and sent his message before offering to take her mug and refill it for her which she murmured her thanks for.

After he returned with a fresh and newly warmed mug he handed it to her just as a blue portal appeared in the center of the open area of the room.

"Uncle Leo!" Eris cheered as she hopped up in the back of the couch.

Leo stepped through the portal and grinned wide at his niece before presenting a brown paper bag to Don.

"Here you are. I got both just like you said. I'm just gonna check on her since I'm here." Leo's portal closed as he and Don walked back over to the couch.

"Heyyyyy there, doll. How ya feelin'?" The slider leaned on the back of the couch, looking down at Luciana who smiled up at him in return.

"A little better. I'm actually hungry for once." She eyed the bag in her husband's hand as he came around the couch and set it on the coffee table.

"Excellent, hermana. Any aches or pain? Headache? Fatigue?" Leo rattled off.

"Just fatigue. I'm so tired...all the time." She sighed.

"That's to be expected you have had nothing for your body to use as energy, and, you're pregnant. Ok, uncomfy questions time." Leo's expression became serious and Lux winced outwardly.

"Any discharge? Blood? Clotting or otherwise.."

"Light blood. No clotting." She answered, wincing again as Don's hand funbled as he unwrapped her plain cheeseburger, almost dropping the thing on the coffee table.

"Okay. You call if it increases. I can be here lickity split. I hope your burger is everything you dreamed it to be. Adios, hermana, hermano, and mi sobrina mas hermosa." Leo winked at Eris who giggled and waved as he turned around and pulled one of his katana free and sliced a portal into the air back to the mortal realm.

"You're still bleeding?" Donnie handed her the burger, neatly halfway wrapped in its paper wrapper.

"Just a little. It should be okay. You heard Leo, he's not freaking out. So you don't need to freak out, okay?' she gave him a halfhearted smile and he sighed before pulling a cardboard container out of the bag.

Eris exclaimed in delight when he presented it to her. "Yay! Chicken fries! Wait!-" Don handed her a ranch cup and she crawled onto the floor to eat her chicken fries at the coffee table, her little dark green dragon tail waving around in glee.

Don smiled at his daughter before poking Luciana's legs, which she pulled up so he could sit back on the couch. He motioned for her to put her legs across his lap and she did so without hesitation, sighing when he began massaging her calf muscles.

"You didn't get anything?" She asked him.

"I did. I'm not hungry right now though so I'll probably eat it later when I inevitably wake up at midnight." He shrugged then nodded at her. "Well?"

Lux hesitated a moment, suddenly nervous about taking the first bite of the burger even if it was plain.

"What do you need, sugar?" She looked up at Donnie who was gazing at her with such a tender expression of disquietude that had her toes curling and butterflies fluttering around in her belly especially when he used the only real pet name he had for her. One that had started as an inside joke and had morphed into a tool he wielded with precise expertise to get her to comply with almost anything.

"I'm just nervous...you know how I hate getting sick." She finally answered.

Donnie nodded. "I know. Do you want me to get the waste basket from the bathroom?" He asked her. Luciana sighed and lifted her legs again so he could get up.

Don stood up and made his way around the couch and across the room where he disappeared into the bathroom, returning a moment later with the plastic waste basket and setting it on the ground next to where Luciana sat on the couch.

"Okay...here goes nothing. Bury me in the garden if I die..." Luciana grumbled the last part as she bit into her burger.

Don snickered at her remark as he took his seat again and she placed her legs back over his lap so he could continue massaging them.

After several bites and nothing happening Lux sighed. "Thank Satan."

Don smiled and looked back down at Eris who was nearly done with her chicken fries, her entire focus on the T.V. screen as she watched Merida chase the Willow the Wisps.

"I did get you one with everything if this one managed to stay down." He said as he let his head fall back to rest against the back of the couch.

"Yessss." Luciana wriggled in excitement.

Don let his eyes close as he continued to rub her legs until his usual exhaustion caught up with him and allowed him to slip into a light sleep, his hands stilling and his breathing evening out.

He wasn't certain how long he was out, he wasn't even certain how Lux had moved without him waking up but he woke up to his daughter tapping lightly on his knee.

"Da, wake up. Mama needs you." She told him urgently, her big brown eyes wide with alarm.

Don blinked the sleep from his eyes as he looked down at the couch where Lux had been. Seeing she wasn't there and neither was the waste basket sent a shiver of worry down his spine.

"Okay, hun. You stay here." He patted Eris' cheek as he stood up and quickly walked to the bathroom. The door was shut.

He tested the knob and was relieved it wasn't locked as he pushed it open. The lights were off.

The sound of his wife heaving the contents of her stomach into the toilet made him grimace.

"Lux?" He flipped the light switch and she immediately growled in response.

"Oh, shit. Okay, okay, sorry." He flipped them back off. "Headache?" He asked.

"Mhm.." he followed the sound of her voice to find her in the pitch blackness.

"Sugar, Fallen or not, my vision is still not that great in the dark. Give me your hand." He said softly. His own outstretched hand was suddenly grabbed onto by her smaller one and he let hia hand slide along hwr arm to her shoulder as he crouched behind her.

"I guess I wasn't ready...." He heard her say, her voice hoarse from vomiting and trembling from the tears he knew were running down her cheeks.

"Oh, sugar. I'm sorry." He leaned forward to press his lips against the back of her neck and nuzzle her hair, feeling her suck in a shaking breath and choke back a small sob.

"Anything else wanna come up? Or are you okay?" He asked her against the skin of her shoulder.

"I'm..okay.." she said haltingly.

"Okay." He placed one hand on her elbow and the other on her hip and helped her to stand up so he could walk her over to the ledge of the massive jacuzzi tub.

"Sit here for a moment okay? I'm going to put Eris to bed really quick. Then we are going to shower and I will get you some tylenol for your headache." He kissed her on her forehead.

"Okay.." he hated the defeated tone in her voice. He moved toward the only light in the room which was the cracked bathroom door and slipped back out into the room.

"Hey, E. Bedtime." He said to the little girl that was sitting on the back of the couch. She looked over her shoulder at him and lifted her arms as he approached her so he could lift her into his arms and carry her close to his plastron as they left the room to go across the hall to her room.

"Is Ma, okay?" She asked him as he set her down so he could turn down her bed.

"She will be." He said, hoping he was right. Eris, being the unproblematic child that she was, walked to her closet so she could change into her pajamas which were cute little purple ones with T-rex's all over them. Don sat on the edge of her bed and patted it for her to climb up so he could tuck her in.

"Da?"

Don's gaze found hers, two sets of eyes that mirrored each other in their appearance.

"Yes, little nova?" He asked.

"Are...the babies hurting Mama?" She asked him. Don sighed and brushed his thumb over her cheek, marvelling at the dusting of purple freckles that covered her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, at the green hue of her skin that again mirrored his own.

"I don't know, hun." He told her honestly.

"I hope not. That would be mean of them.." Eris said with a frown. Don smiled softly at her and leaned down to kiss her forehead.

"Don't worry about it for now. Go to sleep." He said quietly, kissing her cheek too.

"Okay, daddy. Take care of mama." She told him, closing her eyes.

"I will." He whispered as he stood back up and strode from the room, closing the door with a soft audible click.

Don came back into their room and closed the door. He quickly texted Leo, letting him know that the food had not been a success before he took the tech gauntlet off and set it on his nightstand. He pulled off his black slacks and tossed them into the hamper in the massive closet and then made his way back into the bathroom.

"Shield your eyes, sugar." He said from the doorway.

"Okay.." she replied before he flipped the lights back on so he could see.

She slowly uncovered her eyes and looked up at him as he approached her, her lip trembling slightly.

"Come on, beautiful." He said as he grasped her hand in his and helped her to stand so he could help her slip her oversized hoodie over her head, tossing it near the door. He then untied her sweatpants, also oversized, and let them fall from her hips, as well as her underwear. He then helped her step out of them and kicked them to join her hoodie.

Donnie was good at this point at fistracting himself with a task so he wouldn't go full blown male on her. Not that he was typically prone to that behavior unless it was June.

He helped her into the massive stone shower and to the large seat at the back where he helped her sit. He then shirked off his own boxers and tossed them out of the shower before turning around and spinning the knob to warm.

When he turned back around he frowned at the way Lux seemed to be clutching at her swollen abdomen, a grimace of pain on her face.

"What is it?" He asked as he crouched in front of her seated form.

"I think one was sitting weird is all. It's okay .. I'm okay." She let out a long exhale and he reached towards her to run his hands over her belly before leaning forward to press his lips there, just above her navel.

"Knock it off you two, you're hurting your mama. I will ground you the second you are born if you keep it up." He said against her stomach.

Lux sucked in a breath but giggled at the same time.

"They love when you talk..." She told him.

Don smiled up at her before standing up and pulling her with him under the warm cascades of water from the huge rain shower head above them.

"I'm staying here until you are better." He told her as he reached behind her and pulled the hair tie from the end of her braid and began unraveling it.

"What? No. Donnie, you don't have to do that. I'm okay. I just have to beat this stupid flu." Luciana looked up at him with a frown as she held onto his shoulders, still a bit too unsteady on her feet.

Finished undoing the braid Don gave her a firm look that brokered no argument. He meant it.

"Vayil can handle it. And I can work remotely from here. It's not a big deal, Luciana. You are far more important." He told her as he had her turn around so he could wash her hair, massaging the shampoo into her scalp gently, eliciting a soft sigh from her.

They showered in relative silence after that. Staying under the warm water until it started to turn cool and then shutting it off.

Don wrapped Lux in a giant fluffy towel and proceeded to dry himself off while she put her hair in a towel and brushed her teeth. He led her out of the bathroom to sit on the chase lounge by the windows before turning and walking into the closet coming back out already wearing a fresh pair of boxers and holding underwear and a sports bra for her. Lux abhorred sleeping in clothing other than those two items and usually didn't bother with the sports bra either.

"Are you sure...about not going to Cyberhex?" She suddenly asked him as he helped her dress and then loosely braided her damp hair back again so that the massive mane was containrd.

"I am." He answered as he helped her to their insanely large bed. She sighed as she climbed under the weighted satin comforter and hugged her huge body pillow. Don left to get her a bottle of water from the kitchen down the hall and snagged one of Eris' jello cups too and a spoon, bringing both back to Lux who sat up a little.

"Try this?" He held out the jello cup and she blinked at it then smiled and accepted it, peeling the lid off while he moved back to the bathroom to grab the tylenol for her.

"Here's this too." He said pouring out two of the pills for her and opening her water. Lux took the pills first and popped them into her mouth and then took the water to wash them down with.

She ate the jello cup, quietly watching him close the blackout curtains on the windows and then turn off the lamp in the sitting area before he came back to her and took the empty cup and spoon to set them on the nightstand. He would get them later.

"Thank you..." She murmured as he climbed into the bed with her.

"For?" He questioned, pulling his mask off and tossing it with the tech gauntlet on his nightstand.

"For being the best husband...for taking care of me...for literally everything you do around here..." Lux ticked each reason off on a finger.

Don smirked as he pulled the comforter over hinself and then scooted closer to her as she slid back down to lay down with her back to him so she could hug her body pillow.

Don smooshed himself against her and wrapped his arm over her own, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles.

"You're welcome." He said against the back of her head.

"Donnie?" She said after a few moments.

"Hm?" He responded, half asleep at this point.

"I'm scared .."

Well that woke him up.

"Why?" He asked her.

"Because what if this flu causes me to lose the pregnancy...." She asked him.

"You'll beat it. It'll be okay." He buried his beak into her hair and chuffed reassuringly at her.

"I hope so..." She sighed, lacing her fingers with his and drifting off to sleep quickly. Something he wished he could do now that that fear had been brought to the forefront of his mind.

His hand slid to rest on her abdomen so he could feel the twins moving around, something he never tired of.

He hoped everything would be okay too....

[aralezinspace]

Behold

~AO3~ Dreamling, suggestive

Kinktober prompt: Human Furniture

Kinktober masterlist

Hob had watched Dream pace in front of his throne for around fifteen minutes before he stopped in front of his husband and grumbled, “There is something I would ask of you.”

“Anything,” Hob replied immediately, holding Dream’s hands in his. Dream heaved a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping and weariness settling in his bones. Alarm bells immediately went off in Hob’s mind- whatever was happening was weighing him down heavily, enough that he was asking his consort for help. It would certainly explain his moodiness the past few days.

“Hey,” Hob urged gently, trying not to let his worry show as he tilted Dream’s head up with a gentle touch, forcing his husband to meet his eyes. “I’m here, love. Whatever you need.”

Dream collapsed into his throne, looking more worn out than Hob had seen him in a while. “A delegation from the Hallowed Mountains will be paying a visit tomorrow.” He swallowed with a grimace, forcing down his distaste at the prospect. “Small battalions have been moving closer and closer to our borders, but not close enough to be a declaration of war. Their king has been an ever growing thorn in my side.” He paused; Hob was sure he was grinding his teeth.

Dream’s next words were bitten out, growled: “I need. To send a message.” The barest hint of an almost evil smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth.

Hob felt his mouth go dry as Dream purred the details of his request. The ringing in his ears grew louder and louder, his vision grew fuzzy at the edges as his blood fell from his brain to his cock. Oh, it would send a message alright. And they would both enjoy it immensely.

~~

The next morning in the throne room, Hob couldn’t keep himself from staring; it was a monumental effort just to keep his mouth from hanging open like a dumb fish. A shudder went down his spine, and it wasn’t just from the breeze wafting over his naked skin.

The monarch of the Dreaming was clearly taking this seriously- he had dressed himself in a flowing shirt and pants the same black as the bottom of the ocean, probably made of bottom-of-the-ocean too. It moved and rippled like water across his lean frame, churning and softly writhing. A silver chain of office hung about his shoulders, each link forged from stardust and snow. From the chain hung a blood red ruby the size of Hob’s palm- not the ruby, but one made to look like it in every aspect.

His cloak was fastened at the hollow of his throat, the flames at the base bringing out the flickers of stars captured in the fabric. His helm rested on the arm of the throne, glimmering like the day it was made. It was an understated and yet very clear display of his power and authority, his right to rule. His beauty magnified with the power rolling off him in waves was a clear warning to back down, or face the consequences.

Hob was beyond powerless to even think of disobeying Dream’s command of “Now, my love. They are almost here.” He eased himself into his throne, an imperious flick of his hand pointing to the space at his feet Hob was to occupy. The human crashed to his knees, joints protesting the sudden contact with the cold stone floor. “My king,” he breathed, pressing a reverent yet obscene kiss to Dream’s knuckles, tongue briefly darting out to taste skin. It may have been a trick of the light, but he could have sworn he saw Dream’s cock twitch under his loose pants.

Hob arranged himself on all fours at Dream’s feet, his half hard cock just peeking out from between his thighs. His hair had come loose, and hung in curtains around his face. He took a deep breath when he felt the hard heels of Dream’s boots dig into the flesh just to the side of his spine. He settled into his muscles, making minute adjustments to his position. Lucienne announced their guests, and his eyes fluttered shut.

Hob lost track of time in the floaty haze of his mind. The drone of the delegates’ voices and Dream’s rumbling responses melded together into white noise, punctuated by the slow, steady beating of his heart, pierced by the sharp pain of Dream’s boots digging into his back. He would surely have a bruise; maybe Dream would kiss it better once the delegation left.

He barely noticed the ache in his wrists and knees, nor the tremors in his shoulders when his muscles began to protest holding the same position for so long. Every now and then, Dream shifted his feet, using his toes and heels to nudge Hob into a better position. A light tap to the hinge of his elbow, and he fell to his forearms with a soft grunt. The movement and radiating aches in his bones made him shiver. From this position, the visiting delegation could clearly see the deep and purpling indents in his back from his sovereign's boots, could see through the curtain of his hair to the blissed out smile on his face. He was helping Dream send a message: that Morpheus’ power was absolute. That he could order his consort to serve as a footstool, and said consort would obey gladly. He held dominion over every inch of his realm, and it willingly submitted to him.

Hob wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he felt the weight of Dream’s feet vanish, startling him out of his meditative reverie. Dream gently pulled him up into his lap, ghosting his fingers over the deeply bruised welts in Hob’s back and murmuring praise. Hob shuddered and closed his eyes, drifting off with a content smile. Later, when Hob was present again, he’d tell him how the delegation had received their message and left with their tails between their legs. Later.

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

"True enough. Got enough enemies as it stands. Don't need her added to that long list, seeking me out. Got nothing to prove with any pissing contests around here either. Prefer to let my work out in the field against Corypheus' abominations and cult speak for itself."

Eskel's low, amused tone returned to her swiftly with a chuckle of his own, following her at her prompting, making their way out of the war room gradually and down the subsequent corridor. Passing through her office soon after, Ambassador Montilyet looked up from her desk and the messenger she was consulting with, doing a double take, an expression of surprise crossing her pretty Antivan features at the sight of him accompanying the Inquisitor. A look he received more of when they made it out into the main hall... along with whispers his enhanced senses picked up. Not hostile, at least, a welcome change from what was usually said about him, but certainly bewildered and curious. Nothing he wasn't used to, at any rate. He supposed it was compounded by how rarely he went out around the keep during the day... he was an oddity. He looked back at her throne and over the guards and other folk around the hall, marred features smiling politely, trading a respectful nod with the dwarven rogue storyteller Varric as they passed his spot near a fireplace, then focusing on making his way with Ellana outside, the cool mountain air greeting them. He breathed it in... and almost felt like he was home, again. Maybe he was, and just didn't know it yet. It was the longest he had settled into a place outside of Kaer Morhen, at least. Moving down the stone steps, crossing over the yard towards the awaiting inn, he became aware of the further eyes turning their way.

The Witcher wasn't sure if they were more staring at her, the beloved Herald of their Andraste, symbol of their order and Thedas' best hope, or him, the mysterious mutated stranger and suspicious outsider of the Inquisition. It was an amusing thought, regardless. He would always be the stranger, on some level. It was the nature of his profession and existence, the Path and his destiny. Though he did offer Scout Harding the polite nod she deserved. The moment they approached the Herald's Rest, his enchanted medallion began to hum... detecting the presence of the spirit calling itself Cole that lived in the establishment, taking the form of a pale, unusual yet skilled young man, who traded a wave with Ellana. It was strange to be fighting alongside one... especially considering he was usually slaying similar beings for coin. Entering the tavern, the music and chatter greeted them, a few conversations breaking off at the sight of them again... he ignored it, settling down at the table she indicated with her, ordering a drink as well before focusing his viper eyes and senses back upon her. He was hardly surprised to hear of her favorite area in Skyhold... had heard some whispers about her and the mysterious elven mage called Solas who resided there. Personally, his instincts told him to trust the elf no more than he trusted the haughty Orlesian Sorceress Vivienne. Nodding at the Inquisitor's words, his deep, languid voice returning to her with a smile of his marred visage.

"It could grow on me, I'm sure, especially given the present company. Might prefer the lower courtyard, but I'd also like to take a crack at that forge of yours in the undercroft at some point. Not as good as some of the experts you picked up for blacksmithing, but not half bad either. Everyone at my school learned to work a forge... learned many useful skills for the Path and on it."

@starwrittenfates

"We all could use them, that's for sure. Especially these days. Good days for my line of work... but not so much for the rest of the world, including myself outside of work."

Eskel's low, grimly amused voice returned to his client with a shake of his head, looking down to the map sprawled out on the war table and all the pieces on it, daggers embedded into certain spots. He could scarcely imagine running a war, directing numerous others, advisers, allies, politics, the fate of nations... especially having stood on his own for so long. Having to weigh every decision and repercussion for others, everyone seeking something... and no shortage of enemies, including those pretending to be allies. It was a new experience, being around a variety of personalities and motives this long, full of lessons every day, it seemed. Different from hunting Demons, Wyverns or giant spiders in some forest, cavern or village, or Darkspawn down in the Deep Roads. In the latter case, it was only the Legion of the Dead and Grey Wardens he had fought beside, and even then on a short term basis. Life was simpler in the Deep Roads, such as it was. The personalities of the doomed dwarves and Wardens aligning well with his own. Little idle socializing, more drinking and slaying monsters. Not like it was at Skyhold, another world entirely he was adapting to, even at his age.

There had been a good deal of losses so far in the campaign against Corypheus, between his Dragon and his cult of followers and Demon hordes... he imagined there would be a good more yet before all was said and done, including many of those occupying Skyhold. It was a matter of time before the Darkspawn Magister marched his army this way, made a siege of it, most likely. Skyhold had become a hub in the world, everyone knew where it was now, despite its remote location on the border of Orlais and Ferelden, and how to get there. The heart of the Inquisition. He would do all he could to make sure the place didn't end up like Kaer Morhen all over again. In the meantime, it was best to make the most of things while they all still could. However long they lasted. At her generous and unexpected offer when he had been ready to head back down to the lower courtyard, the Witcher's viper eyes returned to the alluring Inquisitor's emerald pair... and his marred visage smiled, nodding. He took Ellana's hand carefully, raising it slightly to kiss the back of it gently, giving it a grateful squeeze before letting it go again and drawing back a bit, clearing her way. Deep tone murmuring to the elven lady again.

"Certainly I would, Lady Lavellan. Much appreciated. Would go change into my armor and weapons, usually need them at a tavern... but I reckon I can make an exception around here. Especially in your company. Ready when you are."

@starwrittenfates

[twdsunshine]

“I wouldn't have imagined you would be the one to backstab me.” (Negan x Reader)

Requested by Anon.

It had all backfired.  Everything that you’d worked so hard for, the hours of preparation; sneaking out into the darkened surroundings of the Sanctuary to engage in clandestine meetings with the enemy, handing over hastily scrawled maps and plans, and imparting the little scraps of information that you’d heard whispered in the dinner hall…  You’d been so close, drawing ever nearer to the day that the king, the widow and Rick would finally bring an end to your leader’s reign of terror, and now, it seemed, it was all for nothing.  Because, regardless of whether they were successful in toppling Negan from his throne, you were almost certain that you wouldn’t be there to see it.

He was towering over you, caging you against the wall with his forearms, his breath hot against your face as his anger pulsed through him.  His eyes were flashing with rage, urgent and violent, but, beneath that, you could see the sting of your betrayal, his mind whirling as he struggled to process the stolen papers that he’d found, tucked into your boot.  You’d been apprehended by his Saviours as you attempted to slip through the cut wire of the rear fence under the gloom of dusk.  They’d dragged you to Negan’s office, throwing you to the floor at his feet, and his touch had been rough as he’d frisked you, searching for evidence of your crimes.  You hadn’t bothered to fight.  You’d known straight away that it had been over.  After all, you were guilty, and now he was going to make you pay.

“Outta all the greedy fuckin’ assholes in this place,” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous, “I wouldn’t have imagined you would be the one to backstab me.”

You opened your mouth to spit out a retort, determined not to let him see your fear, but long fingers closed around your throat, restricting your airway and cutting off your words.  You gasped, struggling against his uncomfortably tight grasp, and something shifted in his face, the hurt surging forward to overwhelm the fury, his tight lips curving downwards as his gaze searched your own.

“Just tell me why, doll.  After everything we’ve been through together… Fuck, it’s always been you and me, hasn’t it?  Right back from the fuckin’ start of this thing!  So, why would you do this to me?”

He was right.  It had always been the two of you, since the day you’d stumbled out of your brother’s hospital room, the steady drone of the flatline ringing through your ears, to find him slumped on the floor of the corridor, with tears tracking over his stubbled cheeks.  The world around you was falling apart, the dead returning as ravenous monsters, like something out of a horror movie, but, in that moment, it seemed that only the stranger before you knew your pain, understood it, and you’d reached for him in a trance, falling into his embrace as you sobbed.  When your misery had been disturbed by the wandering corpses, he’d taken your hand in his, and, together, you’d fled.  It seemed like so long ago now, and the man before you was barely recognisable as the one that had dragged you through the back alleys and out of the city, forging a bond of survival that you’d believed would never break.  You’d been wrong.

“Because you’ve gotta be stopped,” you choked out, sucking in a hungry breath when his grip on your neck loosened, just enough to allow you to speak freely.  “You’ve lost yourself in this, Negan.  I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

“I’m still me; still the same guy that fuckin’ saved your ass time and again out there.”

“We saved each other,” you argued, “and that’s exactly what I’m talking about.  It’s like your ego swallowed you whole!  And now you cheat and you kill, and you grind people into the ground and make them kneel for you, and I can’t watch it anymore.  I can’t watch…”

“What?”  His face had softened, just a little, at your declaration, and now he was watching you with unbridled curiosity, as if he was just now remembering the nights you’d spent huddled together in the dark, afraid for your lives and lost in your grief; the endless days of aimless walking, searching for somewhere safe that you could call home.

You swallowed hard, feeling his palm, warm and grounding as it held you in place against the cool concrete behind you.  “I can’t watch the man I- I loved become this monster.  That’s what you are now, Negan: a monster.  And it hurts so bad to see it, because you were- you were the best person I knew, and I needed you, and you… you became this instead.  You chose this.”

“I’m still the same fuckin’ guy, sweetheart.”

“No.  No, you’re not.”  You sniffed, raising a trembling hand to wipe away the solitary tear that had escaped to trail down your cheek.  “And I miss him, every single day.  So, I couldn’t just stand back and watch you… terrorise people.  I won’t.  If you want to stop me, you’ll have to kill me, because I will find a way to bring you down, Negan.  Someone has to.”

“You think I’m gonna kill you?  You really think I have that in me?  That I’ve gone that fuckin’ dark?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, and his whole body seemed to sag under the weight of it, his hands falling away as he took a step back, and another.  “I don’t know if there’s anything you wouldn’t do anymore.  That’s what scares me.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you, doll, that’s for damn sure.  If that’s what you think of me…”  He trailed off, and the raw devastation on his face cut you to the core.  And then, in the time it took for you to blink, it was gone, and he drew himself up tall once more, striding over to the door and yanking it open to beckon his men inside.  The knot in your stomach tightened.  “Take her to the cells.  Lock her up.  She’s not to be touched, but she sure as hell’s not gonna be seeing the light of day for a good long while.”

[flautistsandpeonies]

The Perpetuity of War

Read the previous part [Here]

Word Length: 4,891

Summary: Wei WuXian must make some harsh choices to forge a better future for himself and the Wens.

“He really loved butterflies. Oh, and rabbits as well.”

“Rabbits? Ah, that’s so cute!”

Wei WuXian was having a good day.

It had been a long three weeks of reconnaissance. Wei WuXian and Wen Qionglin had only gotten back to the war camps the night before and were tired to say the least. Having been thoroughly examined by Wen Qing, both men had been relaxing in Wei WuXian’s tent until a couple of visitors arrived.

“He also loved chewing on ChenQing, “Wen Qionglin supplied with a small smile, sitting along the tent’s walls with a few straws in hand, weaving a hat together

“Oh, is that so?, “Wen Bao giggled into her sleeve

“Ahaha, “Wei WuXian laughed, rubbing at the back of his head, “He was teething and would cry if I didn’t give it to him!”

When they weren’t training or helping with the the wounded, both Wen Huan and Wen Bao would take times out of their day to talk with Wei WuXian and Granny Wen about their yet to be conceived child. They wanted to know as much as they could about their a-Yuan so that they could properly take care of him when he arrived.

“At one point he got so attached to Young Master Wei that he refused to leave his presence for a couple weeks, “Qionglin said to a smirking Wen Huan, “If he couldn’t eat, sleep, bath, and play with Young Master Wei every single day, he’d  start to cry. It took jiejie’s and granny’s combined efforts to ween him from that.”

Wei WuXian let out a hearty laugh at the memory, “I remember waking up with a two year old in my bed! Granny nearly passed out when she couldn’t find him that morning.”

Wen Bao laughed heartily, “You’ll be a good big brother when he arrives, won’t you? Ah, I can see you hanging him in a tree already!”

“I guess, “WuXian replied laying is head on his palm, “So...how’s trying?”

Wen Bao blushed at his forward question, “It’s.....trying....still no success as of yet.”

“a-Qing said she would whip up another concoction for us, to make things easier, “Wen Huan was blushing as well as he laid his hands on his wife’s shoulders

Wei WuXian smirked at the two, “Ah, well don’t let the Wen Ning and I stop you. You should be using your free time to have fun instead of talking to the two of us.”

Wen Huan and Wen Bao both turned as red as a pomegranate.

“WuXian!, “the two cried out, shaking the entire area

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Yingchuan would give us access to the bigger trade caravans, but Yunmeng would give us access to the water ways.”

“Yes, and Lanling, Laoling, and Langya would give us access to the ports, while securing Gusu and Guangling would allow us to have better fortifications, hideouts, and weapon storage.”

Inside the Nie Sect Leader’s throne room, Nie MingJue, Lan XiChen, Wei WuXian, and Meng Yao all stood with a fresh map of the world settled on the round table in front of them.

(MDZS Maps - MacBeka on MDZS Reddit)

Wei WuXian picked up a piece of cinnabar and drew a large circle around the entire southern region.

“Since Wen Chao’s death, Yunmeng has been under control of Wen Kuo, son of Wen Shuang, one of Wen Ruohan’s top advisors; there are 20,000 cultivators spread throughout the region helping maintain the rivers’ waterways. Yunmeng and its subsidiary areas are being used for agriculture, training camps, transportation, craft, and trade. Meishan is being used as a weapon and food storage. It’s under the control of Wen Su, cousin to Wen Shuang; they have 5,000 cultivators under them.”

Next, the Jiang disciple drew a square around the Yingchuan region.

“As for Yingchuan, it;s has three different supervisory offices, mostly used to maintain the trade routes on land and to intercept our missives and scouts. The first office is under control of Wen Fu, she has 3,500 cultivators under her. In the villagers under her jurisdiction their are checkpoints in and out of every village checking for cultivators with a very strict and efficient guard schedule, so it will be tricky to send in spies. Next is Wen Jie, they have 1,500 cultivators under them. She mostly manages what goods will be distributed between the supervisory offices and what they charge their importing and exporting merchants. Finally we have Wen Jun, who has 2,000 cultivators under them. She mostly trains spies to infiltrate the trade routes and has a network of all manner of people from courtesans to a few lords in Lanling.“

Lastly, Wei WuXian drew a rectangle around the entire eastern region.

“As we know, Gusu and Guangling are at a standstill with the Wen forces. Lan-Xiansheng has managed to push the Wens out of the Cloud Recesses, but they still have control over the region as a whole. The person in control of the forces there is Wen Shen, son of another of Wen Ruohan’s advisors. He was appointed a few months after Wen Xu’s death, and has 10,000 cultivators under them. We’ve been unable to use the ports and tradesmen of Lanling, Langya, and Laoling because we can’t be sure if some of Wen Jun’s spies aren’t lurking within the trade routes.”

Nie MingJue looked over the three options with a critical eye. All three regions were very valuable in the grand scheme of things, so trying to choose which ones to capture first was a very difficult decision. Having the trade routes on land meant that it would be easier to move between their own forts and gain resources, while having the waterways meant more access all round to weapons, food, and the type of tactical measures they could take. Having the east would push their adversaries back allowing them to obtain more land and gain the upper hand over Wen Ruohan.

Lan XiChen narrowed his eyes, “While I wish to recapture my home as soon as possible, I vote that we should attempt to recapture the southern regions first. The waterways will be integral to putting a halt to some of Wen Ruohan’s operations.”

Meng Yao replied, “I have to agree with Lan Zongzhu, if we recapture the south we can start putting use to the rivers and gain more resources from the trade routes. But it will be a bit of a loss to us to not have the land trade routes as well.”

Nie MingJue hummed, “We’ll also be able to put up blockades and halt them getting their own resources. But we can also do that with the land routes as well.”

XiChen nodded his head, “Both have merit, trying to choose one will result in a loss of some sort, so we should try and determine which has the most benefit.”

“WuXian, your opinion?, “the Nie sect Leader turned to the Jiang disciple

The demonic cultivator looked over his map once again, tapping his nose as he went over the pros and cons in his head.

“Chifeng-zun, if I’m to be frank, “Wei WuXian looked to the taller man

“Speak, WuXian, “the Nie Sect Leader replied

“I believe we need to start putting pressure on the Jins, “WuXian said placing his hands down on the table

Both Lan Sect Leader and Nie Sect Leader looked to the young Jiang cultivator. Looking down at the map with a look of extreme concentration, Wei WuXian pursed his lips.

“Jin GuangShan is barely putting any effort into this war- we can count the number of Jin disciples we’ve actually seen on the battlefield- and it’s hurting the rest of us, “Wei WuXian takes a piece of cinnabar again and begins to divide the Jin territory from the rest of the map, “Look, we have Yangquan, Pingyang, Ganquan, Yueyang, and Yiling; almost the entire North, West, Northeast, and Northwest is ours. I’m not saying we rush into this. I’m saying we play the long game. Instead of trying to recapture regions one at a time, let’s switch tactics. If Zewu-jun makes strides in Gusu, Guangling, and Moling while we make headway in either Yingchuan or Yunmeng not only would it lead to us reclaiming an immense amount of land but it also puts pressure on Jin GuangShan.”

”Nie MingJue started to speak again, “He’d be completely cut off from Ruohan. Lanling, Laoling, and Langya would be at our mercy.”

“Exactly, “Wei WuXian nods tapping the regions with his bar, “The Jins have the money and resources to help us, yet they are constantly holding back, but at the same time demand that we help them. How is that fair to us?”

The three men stared down at the map once again. The LanlingJin sect was a veritably rich sect with access to the most ports on the eastern coasts, giving them to ability to gain access to resources from other lands. Many of the main family’s acquaintances were also rich lords or merchants who had high stakes in the trade routes throughout the jianghu. With the war dividing lands into factions, their money and other assets was getting tied up in whoever was in control of what region, and to keep their wealth they would probably abide by whatever rules the current faction set.

“I believe Young Master Wei is correct, “Meng Yao says after a bit of deliberation, eyes shimmering, “I don’t wish to say that we should assail my father- I mean Jin Zongzhu, but it is a very sound strategy.”

“It is, “XiChen agrees, nodding at Meng Yao, “but also risky. We’d be splitting our forces in half and putting them at risk for whatever the Wen’s strategies may be.”

“We’ll have to get the other sect leaders to agree as well, “Wei WuXian concluded, “It’ll never work if we can’t get them do their all.”

“For now, we’ll keep it as a option, “Nie MingJue says to the three laying both his hands on the table, “I’ll think over everything we’ve come up with today. For now, the three of you go back to your room and rest.”

With three different affirmations, the men vacated the room, leaving the war general to his own deliberations.

...

Two days later, the commanders and generals of the Sunshot Campaign all stood in the command tent of the Yangquan camp.

“These are our options, “Wei WuXian said as he finished debriefing everyone of his findings, “We’ve deliberated the pros and cons of each, but any other insight is welcome and valuable at this moment.”

Almost immediately, Sect Leader Qin stepped forward.

“As my good friend is unable to be here, “the minor sect leader started, “I have to say in his steed that I do believe that starting a conquest in Yingchuan may put Jin Zongzhu and the rest of us in the northeast in a bit of a bind. The Wen have a staunch control over our regions and any close contact with them may instigate a strong retaliation against us that we may not have the soldiers to combat.”

“Your concern is noted, Qin Zongzhu, “Wei WuXian smiled, “I do agree that any operation in Yingchuan may endanger Lanling and also your Laoling, but we also need access to the land trade routes as we do not yet have any secure transports other than our own men, who we need more on the battlefield.”

“What safety measures would be put in place for us if we do decide to invade Yingchuan?, “the Qin Cangye asked next, looking to Nie MingJue, “Surely you can’t expect us to fend for ourselves.”

“You wouldn’t have to, “Nie MingJue replied, “As our allies, should the Wen attack, we would do our best to send reinforcements, should they be needed.“

Qin CangYe’s face pinched at the end of the man’s statement, as it wasn’t a declaration that allies would run to their aid at the drop of a hat. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but another sect leader beat him to the punch.

“Why not capture the east first then, “the TingshanHe Sect Leader said, “We could start surrounding the Wens and cutting off their escape routes, making retaliations harder.”

“That is an option we’ve considered, “Lan XiChen replied, “But we wanted to wait for further deliberation.”

He Chang nodded his head, “Whether we liberate the Cloud Recesses or Koi Tower first is no matter to me. It all leads to victory in the end.”

“We should acquire the south first, “Jiang WanYin finally spoke, laying his own hand on the table, “the waterways will be essential to rooting out wen spies.”

“That’s true as well, “Sect Leader Ouyang nodded his head, “Plus with YunmengJiang back in control of their own region there will be more money from the taxed citizens”

“The same could be said for GusuLan, “the sect leader of GuanglingRen interjected, “The the east has a few waterways of their own and the mountain sides for use to have hidden bases.“

“The south also has better agricultural benefits than the east, “the sect leader of JianglingChen narrowed their eyes at the GuanglingRen sect leader, “It’ll be harder to farm so high up in the mountains, and our men need food to eat.”

“The east also has trade from other lands. We could apply their knowledge to our own and use it against our foes, “the GuanglinRen Sect Leader glared

“The south is home to many rich merchants who control the waterways and-”

“Why not just send Wei WuXian out there?, “the YueyangChang Sect Leader made everyone grow quiet

Then, everyone looked to the demonic cultivator standing to Nie MingJue’s right. Wei WuXian stared back unflinchingly.

“I mean, he can control the dead, right? Just send him to Lanling while the rest of us deal with another region, “the man continued

A few people nodded their heads at the sound reasoning. However, a cough garnered their attention.

Wei WuXian smiled, “I’m afraid, Chang Zongzhu, that that will be impossible for me.”

“Huh? What do you mean impossible?, “Sect Leader Ouyang demanded, “Can’t you make the dead do whatever you wish?”

Wei WuXian shook his head, “While I can control the dead, have you not seen it is in certain amounts? I can only control so many at a time, and I do not believe that I could take on a whole Wen army by myself; I do still fight alongside all of you.”

People started nodding their heads again at his rebuttal. ‘That’s true’ thought some of the sect leaders who’d actually been out to the battlefield. While Wei WuXian could summon a great number of the dead, he never summoned more than the Wens they were fighting. Some of them thought he was simply holding back, but perhaps that wasn’t the case?

Almost if he was reading their thoughts, Wei WuXian continued, “There is a limit to the dead I can summon and still have complete control over them. If I try to summon more, there’s the chance they could try to fight me. I don’t want to endanger any of my allies.”

The thought of the demonic cultivator losing control of his undead army whilst they were in the middle of battle sent shivers up the spine of many men in the room. Some still had vivid memories of Wen entrails spread along the ground after one of the battles he had entered.

“Then, let’s not do that, “the YueyangChang Sect Leader had turned as white as bone

Wei WuXian tipped his head to the man, “Indeed. Now, we still have to make a decision. There is another option that Nie Zongzhu, Lan Zongzhu, Young Master Meng, and I discussed, and it’s not too far off from your thoughts, Chang Zongzhu.”

“Oh, “the man said while trying to recover from the man’s earlier statement

“We were discussing having the Lan separate, taking a few forces and going to liberate the Cloud Recesses and surrounding areas, while the rest of us invade Yingchuan, “Nie MingJue answered for Wei WuXian

“Why Yingchuan, “Jiang WanYin narrowed his eyes, “Why not take the south and east at the same time?”

“Jiang Zongzhu, “Wei WuXian sent the man a sharp smile, “I did wish to recapture our home as soon as possible, but the hold the Wens have on it is very strong. They won’t give up the waterways so easily, and with the current resources we have, I believe it will be more of a loss than a victory to reclaim the south.”

“What do you mean loss?, “the JianglingChen leader asked

Wei WuXian folded both of his arms behind his back, “The south can be used for agriculture like Chen Zongzhu said, and having the waterways is essential just as Jiang Zongzhu said. However, it can also be used for transportation of goods, training, hideouts, and many other things. With this valuable resource, the Wens would no doubt protect it the most.”

“That’s why they have so many men stationed there, “the TingshanHe Sect Leader said, referencing Wei WuXian’s reconnaissance report

Jiang WanYin stared deep in Wei WuXian’s eyes, “So, you want to hold off going back to Lotus Pier even longer?”

Wei WuXian replied, “I will return to you your throne one day, Jiang Zongzhu, but I believe that it is in the campaign’s best interest that it not be this day.”

Jiang WanYin looked as if he wanted to scoff but settled for rubbing his hand along his sword’s shaft, “Very well then.”

“Are there any problems that anyone could see with that plan, “Lan XiChen spoke, “Let’s have a vote, all in favor of conquering regions singularly, raise a hand.”

A few minor sect leader’s raised theirs.

“Your comments?, “Lan XiChen beckoned

The men were all standing side by side one another on the other side of the table; the one in the middle nodded his head at both, intending to be their spokesperson.

“We are worried, “he started, “that conquering multiple regions at once may put us minor sects in danger. With our forces spread out, I’m afraid we won’t be able to come to one anothers aid.”

“Your fears are recognized, “Lan XiChen smiled, “We do plan on putting in some safety measures for such occurrences.”

Wei WuXian picked up where XiChen stopped, “I’ve been studying all of our sects’ barrier talisman and arrays throughout history, and I believe I’ve developed one that will be nigh impossible to break through.”

Wei WuXian raised his hands up. Using his powers, he depicted a house covered by an orb.

“Instead of using spiritual energy to charge our barriers, this one will only require one use of spiritual energy at a set number of focal points. The focal points will be determined by the topography of region. For example, if you live near a river, lake, or ocean, your focal points will more than likely be underwater and are maintained by keeping the water pure. Entry is afforded by way of token or by word of a token barer, similar to that of the Lan’s previous barrier, but also different in that no entry is allowed what so ever by someone not welcome.”

The sect leader looked a little bit overwhelmed at the researcher’s explanation, but nodded eagerly at the chance to be able to protect their sect, “Yes, that sounds wonderful!”

As Wei WuXian dropped his hands and let his display dissipate, the Nie Sect Leader grunted, “All in favor of a change in tactics, conquering Yingchuan and Gusu simultaneously, raise their hand.”

Hands raised quickly. Most people had been convinced by the earlier discussion and some simply wanted to get their hands on the schematics of a new, more powerful barrier for their sects.

Nie MingJue looked around, counting the number of hands, “Good. Now, let’s talk strategy.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was just beginning to set over the horizon as Wei WuXian made his way out of the command tent.

“Wei Ying, “the Second Jade of Lan called to him as he slipped out

“Lan WangJi, “Wei WuXian turned, looking as if he was getting ready to sigh, “Do you need something?”

The Light Bearing Lord paused for a second and thought about what to say. It had been a little while since he last tried to talk to Wei WuXian, not wanting to anger the man any more than he already did. He also didn’t want to hound him now that his brother wanted to befriend the other man.

He was still worried however.

“How are you feeling?, “Lan WangJi asked, “Are you tired from your reconnaissance?”

Wei WuXian blinked at him in surprise before replying, “Kind of. I’ve gotten used to it.”

“I’ve been told your camp doesn’t have tea delivered to it, “Lan WangJi tried a different angle, “I could have some sent to you. The Lan have a blend that helps with aches. “

The Jiang cultivator paused for a second. He looked at the Lan heir as if he had hit his head.

‘Is he not going to pester me about my cultivation, “he thought, ‘He didn’t give up in my first life; what’s changed now?’

Lan WangJi looked at him, waiting for answer about the tea.

Wei WuXian hummed in his head, ‘Well, if he’s not going to make a fuss...”

Wei WuXian brightened up like the sun and laughed, “Oh, really? That’d be great; I know more than a few people who could use it.”

Lan WangJi nodded, noting in his head to tell his brother to send some of the tea over.

Wei WuXian looked the Second Jade of Lan up and down. Then, he cupped his chin with his hand.

“You must be happy you’ll be returning to Gusu soon, huh Lan WangJi, “Wei WuXian asked

He was. Lan WangJi wouldn’t deny that he’d missed his home, wanted to get it back and build it back up.

“I am, “the Light Bearing Lord relied

Wei WuXian smirked at his straight forward answer.

‘I wonder, “Wei WuXian felt a bit mischievous

 He then said in a teasing tone, “Will you miss me, Lan WangJi?.”

Unbeknownst to the man, this simple sentence sent a wave of happiness through the Second Jade of Lan. To have Wei WuXian’s familiar, playful voice aimed at him again sent his heart aflutter.

“Yes, “was WangJi’s simple reply

Wei WuXian blinked again, not really expecting him to have answered like that.

“Hmm, well, I think I should get back to my camp, “he grinned again, “I’ll see you later, Lan Zhan.”

The two men went their separate ways. As Wei WuXian walked through the camps, some of the people there gave him a few friendly calls.

“Wei WuXian, “a Tingshanhe disciples waved at him, “Care for a drink?”

“Later, busy, paperwork to finish, “Wei WuXian grinned, “Save me a couple jars though!”

“Will do, “the disciple laughed

“Wei WuXian, hey, Wei WuXian, “a Rong disciple ran up beside him, “Say, do you think you could get me something for muscle aches? My back’s been killing me.”

Wei WuXian hummed and grabbed his chin, “Hmm, there should be something in storage. Come by the camp after dinner.”

“Count on it!, “they replied before shuffling off

“Wei WuXian, “a few female disciples smiled and waved his way, “Care for a spar?”

“Maybe another time ladies, “the man declined, “But don’t let me ruin your fun, have at it!”

“Aww, “one of the women pouted, “It’ll be less fun without you there!”

Wei WuXian put his hand on his heart, “Ah, you make my heart hurt, my lady. To choose, paperwork, or spending time with compelling individuals such as yourselves. Truly, it is a hard battle. Alas, duty must come before pleasure.”

The women laughed out loud at his theatrics, “Alright, go on, go on. Get out of here!”

Wei WuXian waved at them, “See you!”

By the time Wei WuXian got back to the Wen Defector camp he could smell the delightful scent of deer stew wafting from the kitchen. Wen Ning had left the camp early that morning and must have caught a large buck for everyone.

“WuXian, “turning, Wei WuXian smiled brightly as he caught sight of Granny Wen making her way toward him

While the old woman was safe- for the most part- from the dangers of the war, she was still quite old. She needed a cane to get around due to her bad back, and sometimes her eyes weren’t as focused as they could have been, needing help from her daughter in law on those hard days.

“Granny, “the demonic cultivator held his hands out to help steady the old woman when she got close, “How are you?”

“Fine, today has been a fine day, “granny replied slowly, “Dinner will be ready in a little will. You need to get a full meal into you today. I’ve noticed you’ve skipped a few the past couple of weeks.”

“Ah, granny, it’s nothing serious, “Wei WuXian shook his head to the woman’s silent inquiry, “Just a bit tired from everything.”

“Still, “the old woman insisted, “Take care of yourself, young man. Don’t dig a pit that’s not worth digging.”

Wei WuXian’s smile turned more lovely, “Of course, granny, I will. I was just going to take a quick rest in my tent and I’ll meet up with everyone at dinner. How’s that sound?”

Granny Wen smiled and patted the young man’s hand, “Good. Good boy. I’ll see you there.”

“See you granny, “making sure that the old woman was good walking off by herself, the camp leader started off toward his tent

When he got there he wasted no time going inside and lighting a few of the candles before throwing himself down on his bed, closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath.

“Hah, “he sighed, tiredly throwing an arm over him eyes

In his first life, the Sunshot Campaign took two years to win. Two years of blood, sweat, anger, and tears as he trudged through muck and bodies to reclaim the Yunmeng area and topple Wen territories.

In this timeline, however, it had already almost been an entire year since the war had started and they hadn’t even reclaimed half of the jianghu from Wen Ruohan.

For some the Sunshot Campaign soldiers, it was discouraging that with even all of their efforts it seemed as if they weren’t really getting anywhere in this war.

For Wei WuXian and the Wens, everything was going according to plan.

The Yiling Patriarch could make this war shorter very, very easily. He could increase the number of dead and spirits in the battles he fought. He could take a trip to Xuanwu Cave in Muxi Mountain.

He wouldn’t.

He needed this war to be longer, far longer than it ever was.

And he needed the Jin to be a part of it.

He needed everyone weak, needed everyone in a state of recovery when everything was said and done so no one had the power or resources to lord anything over anyone else.

He needed time to get his own resources together as well, needed time to make contingency plans in case anything went awry.

And for those once prevented deaths that would surely come from it.

Well, he’d just have to live with it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It takes a little under two weeks for the Lan to pack up most of their essentials to get ready to move.

“Please, write to me as soon as you get to safety, “Nie MingJue says as Lan XiChen settles his bags onto his horse

“I will, “the Lan Sect Leader smiles at his childhood friend as he hopped upon the steed

It was far too dangerous for all the white clad disciples to take up their swords and fly to their destination. Not only would it give the Wens a head up on their next course of action, but it would drain the cultivators’ spiritual energy, putting them in danger in case of an attack. The group had decided then, that the most important members would leave on horseback and separate into five separate groups and arrive back in Gusu on different days and at different times.

“Write me Lan Zhan, “Wei WuXian smirked at the Second Jade of Lan, “I’ll get lonely out here.”

“I will, “the Lan heir replied

As the Lan contingent settled into their formations and set off, the remaining men started to converse as they made their way back to the command tent.

“I hope they’ll make it back safe, “Meng Yao said as they entered Nie MingJue’s abode

“They will be, “the Nie Sect Leader replied as he sat down in his seat and crossed his legs, “And if they come across any danger he and WangJi can handle it.”

“I’ll bet, “Wei WuXian smiled, “Zewu-jun and Lan Zhan are very powerful. No one can stop them alone let alone working together.“

Nie MingJue quirked his brow at the name change, “You don’t hate WangJi anymore? You’re calling him by his first.”

Wei WuXian shrugged his shoulders, “I never hated him, just wanted him to stop pestering me. He hasn’t brought up my cultivation in a little while, so I think we’re fine now. Plus, I used to call him by his first name all the time.”

Meng Yao shook his head at Wei WuXian blithely smile, “You two must have been good friends.”

“The best!, “Wei WuXian replied

The three soon began to converse back and forth about the youngest’s earlier years. Wei WuXian even got Nie MingJue to huff and shake his head as he regaled the time he knocked the Second Jade of Lan off the Lan Sects Wall.

“You should have seen his face, “Wei WuXian cackled, “He froze underneath me when I wrapped him up underneath me.”

Nie MingJue shook his head, “You’re ridiculous.”

Soon, the conversation drifted off to more serious topics.

“Have you almost finished that communication array?, “Nie MingJue raised a brow, “I was wondering about it.”

“Almost, “Wei WuXian laid back in his chair, “Working out some kinks here and there. Want to hear about it.”

“Anything that’ll keep me away from this paperwork, “the older man replied, “Meng Yao, bring us some wine.”

“Right away, Nie Zongzhu, “the brunette said with a smile

Wei WuXian grinned at the promise of good wine, “Alright, so you know how stone can be carved to...”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Author’s Notes:

Hope you all enjoyed! I wanted to thank everyone who’s commented over the time I’ve been gone, health has been finicky for a long time now, but your comments gave me the strength to finish this chapter!

Ngl I loved making Wei WuXian lie about his cultivation. Having him say, “Yeah, I can’t do that” knowing it’s a full lie had me in giggles.

Read My Other Prompts and WIPs [Here]

[librarianandguardian]

Just a feeling- Saul Silva x Female!Reader

Pairing : Saul Silva x Female!Reader

Word Count : ~2300

Warnings : Fluff, brief mention of drug use and burns

Music : Un homme - Jérémy Frerot

Author’s note : Getting pretty stressed because of a huge project at school, so I wrote this to blow off some steam ! I also wanted to say that I do not agree with the way some characters are written and treated in this show. I hope I did not perpetuate these errors, and that I got Silva’s personality a bit right at least. Feedback is appreciated, may it be on the story telling or even the grammar. English isn’t my first language. Flahs-backs in italics. Enjoy ! :D

GIF ‘s not mine, and I can’t find the creator.

French First World songs resonate in the Great Hall, she is dancing. Wild and free. Her loosened hairs fly through the wind. She has traded her Specialist armour for a long flowing dress. Her feet are hammering the ground in rhythm. The crowd carries her all over the dancefloor; she twirls and claps her hands following the music.

From an ignored fairy bloodline, her parents considered her a Specialist Legacy. When her mind fairies powers woke up, everything went wrong ; she was always an overwhelmed child. No one could help her everytime she lost control. Nothing but medication: earrings to contain, and pills to attenuate. It wasn't bad. She lived like that her entire life.

Silva is sitting on a plastic chair, leaning on the table by his side, his gaze lingering. She is an exceptional fighter; dance must be a piece of cake and fun judging from her large smile. To be fair, he barely remembered her from their time at Alfea. Farah told him she was three years younger than him and seemed to have a few memories.

« (Y/N) travelled a lot to the First World prior to college. Her parents were emissaries and brought back souvenirs. Rumours said that her room resembled a cave of wonders.

-Ever went there ?»

His friend chuckled.

« Once. It was full of trinkets, books, movies, postal cards too. Ben caught interest in it, especially the giant botanic encyclopaedia throning on her bookshelf. We both agreed after a while that she might be the ray of sunshine of her Specialist promotion. But I guess she was discreet, if you've never heard of her.»

It took some memory searching, but he indeed remembered one thing. A conversation between a bunch of 1st years talking about a secret party displaying famous First World movies. A few hours later, on the training field, (Y/N) battled fiercely. It caught the attention of many students, who gathered around the platform. Curiosity taking the best of him, he had followed the crowd.

« What's that First World song that I love to describe you with ?

-By the light Clairo, is it really necessary ? »

Her opponent mocked her. She rolled her eyes, wielding her sword before choosing her fight stance.

« You son of... Maneater from Nelly Furtado. Now let's fight please.

-Alright doll, eat me up. »

(Y/N) huffed in annoyance. Clairo was a good fighter, but a little bit too flirty. He launched himself at her. The young woman stayed incredibly calm. Dodging to the right, she left him to stumble before hitting his back with the wooden weapon. He fell to the ground with a grunt. A shy smile spread on her features.

Now that he thinks about it, her earring had intrigued him : an ear chain hanging from the top of the cartilage of her ear to her lobe. Each end was composed of a lavendish round lilac crystal. When she lost control recently, those crystals lit up with a blinding light and burned her skin.

« I change the earring every five year. Every year If any several big crises occurred.

-What about your burns ? How did they clean them up ? »

Her left hand ghosted over her intact lobe, while Harvey healed the bruised flesh. Her eyes stared at the floor of the greenhouse. Saul was holding her other hand.

« They... I stuffed myself with pills. Sometimes enough to sleep through an entire day. Within the Solarian force, it was the only way for them to treat me. None of their mind fairies could calm me down. I don't think you realize how much this, she lifted her intertwined hand, helps.»

The soldier chuckles at the memory. His eyes examined his fingers, remembering how she locked hers, as she found an anchor in his mind.

« My best guess ? Your training forged your head to have a certain mindset in crisis.

-Loads of Solarian troupers could have given you that.

-Yeah. I can't really explain it, she laughed shyly, maybe because you're a teacher, that two of your long time friends are fairies or just because you're good with people.»

Their gazes crossed. The air thickened. Truth to be told, (Y/N) was so lost upon why he managed to calm her down. Farah tried to guide her, but even then, nothing positive came out. Her youth as a student at Alfea only consisted in shared side glances with him in hallways. She sure as hell found the man attractive, but she had other stuff to think about.

A loud giggle snaps him back to reality. (Y/N) falls on his laps while trying to take off her high heels. Her eyes are opened wide and a little glassy. She's definitely drunk.

« Oh by the light, I'm sorry Silva. Aimed at the table ! »

The atmosphere becomes lighter. He catches her when she nearly trips off by trying to get up, one of his arms snaking around to help. Steadying herself on his laps, she catches her breath slowly, though some giggles erupt as she looks around.

« How can you still dance, uh ?»

With a guilty smile, she leans slightly against the table.

« Alcohol ! It's the only thing keeping me up, baby !»

Instant regret shoots through her veins. Some red creeps up on her cheeks, as her hands cover her mouth. The soldier chuckles, enamoured by her adorableness. One thing that strucked him when they met was her lightness. Out of all the solarian troupers out there, or even all the specialists he ever crossed paths with, she was one of the few who stayed so bright and playful. Subconsciously, his fingers dig slightly in her hips.

« It's alright, (Y/L/N).»

She giggles a bit, but thanks him. Farah watches from a far, joined by Ben. (Y/N)(Y/L/N) has been teaching at Alfea for a year now. The entire school seemed to have transformed into a much more joyous place : students got along better, the shyest opened a tad and the roughest softened. Ben's daughter Terra found a supporter of her personal projects and a confidant. Ben himself benefited from her return. Mostly in books and knowledge but that meant already so much to him. Farah gained a daughter ; (Y/N)'s powers were a mess for her advanced age, helping felt natural. But what she loved the most was how confused Saul got with the new Specialist. Their bond strengthened with time, however the first few days rocked the Headmaster all over the place.

«(Y/L/N), what did you do to our office ? Did you... Are these books classified by alphabetic order and colour ?! »

His colleague shrugged, trying to see if he was mad or just surprised. It happened a few days after her arrival. Their shared office went under few renovations.

« (Y/L/N), why dancing classes ? »

She shot up, put her hands on his desk and took twenty minutes to explain how it would make their movements more flexible, strengthen teamwork and be a tool for future mission on the job. Astonished could not describe Silva's feeling.

An admirable change that proved beneficial to the students. These two grew very fond of each other. A lot more than they thought. Words in the hallways started to spread about their growing fondness.

« Okay, I got a question for you, soldier boy.»

Saul tilted his head to the side.

« Are you having fun ?

-Of course I am.»

(Y/N) looks disappointed. Turning around, she pours some water in her cup and chugs it down.

« Really ? 'Cause the only thing I've seen you do is sit in a corner all night. »

He lowers his head, searching for the right words. How does he say that he just loves watching her run around the dancefloor ? How she bounds with students but also keeps their respect ? The fact that she's so organised that she could plan a First World themed party and keep her teacher skills to their best ? The shortest way for that would be admitting his feelings. He zones out long enough for her to talk again.

« It's okay. »

His eyes lock with hers. How did she sober up so quickly ?

« I know you have a reputation as a serious and frowny teacher to keep. And this is a graduation party, so. »

Never mind, she did not. The woman gets up, only to kneel under the tablecloth. He panics briefly.

« (Y/N), what on Earth are you doing ?»

She mumbles before appearing back outside. Her hands are holding a package. Another bright smile shines on her face. Silva knows what's coming, and he has mixed feelings about it; between fear, excitement and confusion.

« Happy Birthday Saul. »

His heart nearly stops. Few people know about his birthday, she is now a part of them. He frankly does not mind, even wished for it for a while now. His hands gently take the package to open it. Before his eyes lies a hard covered sketchbook and a wooden box full of high-quality pencils. The cover has a crow flying in a pearly sky with a red sun. The box is made of ebony and his name carved in silver. She knows an another of his secret. He tears up. The woman worries when he starts to sniffle. Much to her surprise, the soldier puts the gifts on the table before hugging her with all his might. Thank God the students are dancing or already out of the hall to smoke. (Y/N) answers his embrace, reassured.

« Thank you so much dear. »

It's her turn to have glossy eyes. She buries her face in his shoulder. This man is constantly under pressure and she has always wondered what he does during his free time : Does he train more ? He probably reads, right ? The answer came on a regular afternoon.

Silva knocked on her quarters' door. He heard shuffling before (Y/N) opened. She was wearing a bathrobe and a towel around her hair.

« Hi Saul ! Sorry hum. I woke up late and did not expect you so soon so, hum. »

The woman looked around, making her towel fall. Picking it up, she invited him in. He indulged, though a bit surprised.

« I'll be back in a jiffy, you know, putting some clothes on and all. Okay.»

She disappeared in her bathroom, leaving him to explore her room. Many watercolour paintings covered the walls, some abstract and others from the Realms of the Otherworld. However, a few landscapes felt unknown to him. On her desk lied sketches with a horde of different pencils. He discovered portraits of Farah, Ben, Terra, Sky, Riven and finally him. The lines were thin, some shadows sharp for the warriors and smoother for the fairies. A hint of jealousy took over him, quickly brushed away by shyness. The fact that she took the time to draw him was flattering. His fingers grazed over the pencils, wondering if he had time to prepare a little surprise. He puts down the file he came to discuss. A few minutes later, (Y/N) came out, dressed but her hair still wet on the edges. Silva was leaning against her desk, file in hand, a small smile on his features. She mirrored it before asking about the important matter at hand. Twenty minutes later, he left. Her eye caught a change in her drawing material : the portrait of Farah and Ben switched positions. She shuffled them, making sure everything was here, only to find an unknown piece. A cute fox was smiling, a little bubble under him stating :

« Nice Work (Y/L/N). Nice pencils too. Wish I had your talent.»

That last sentence made her wonder if he indeed had an artistic side. Needless to say that his quarters gave her answer. Same reason as his when he came, she knocked on his door one night. Though he did not fully invite her in, her eyes caught glimpses of nice sketches lying on a table, some rudimental equipment next to it.

They stay like this for a few seconds. The headmistress and Professor Harvey look at each other. No words, no need. Terra is chatting with a second year in a corner, bur her eyes catch them. She smiles, looking away shyly, but happy Sky sees the scene too, thanks to Riven who taps on his shoulder. They can't help the smile growing on their faces. Sky's father figure finding support is definitely going to be one of the highlights of their first year. (Y/N) and Saul part. One of her hands pats his arm.

« Wanna dance ? »

He closes his eyes, sighing. There is no lack of desire but the fear of what the students will say.

« I wish but... I don't know.

-I get it. But one day, you will ! That's a promise. »

With one last smile, she strolls back to the dancefloor, leaving him sheepish. He takes the sketchbook and a pencil. He might not dance tonight, but he'll make up to it.

[asongofsilkandsamite]

Eddard Stark in a Game of Thrones (Created 03.07.2022)

In Winterfell:

Bran's father sat solemnly on his horse, long brown hair stirring in the wind. His closely trimmed beard was shot with white, making him look older than his thirty-five years.

(…)

"Ice," that sword was called. It was as wide across as a man's hand, and taller even than Robb. The blade was Valyrian steel, spell-forged and dark as smoke.

Meeting with Grand Maester Pycelle:

There was no denying the heat; Ned could feel the silk tunic clinging to his chest.

(…)

Inside his chambers, he stripped off his sweat-stained silks and sluiced cold water over his head from the basin beside the bed.

Meeting Petyr Baelish:

"Escort him to my solar," Ned said, reaching for a fresh tunic, the lightest linen he could find. "I'll see him at once."

In Kings Landing / Riding:

Ned drew up the hood of his cloak.

In Kings Landing:

The slim young serving girl took quick note of Ned's badge and the sigil on his doublet, and the master came hurrying out, all smiles and bows.

Council Meetings:

In his chambers he stripped off his council silks and sat for a moment with the book while he waited for Jory to arrive.

(…)

Rising, Ned opened a cedar chest and removed a light linen undertunic.

In the Throne Room:

Ned was clad in a white linen doublet with the direwolf of Stark on the breast; his black wool cloak was fastened at the collar by his silver hand of office. Black and white and grey, all the shades of truth.

Meeting the Council / Resigning:

Ned unfastened the heavy clasp that clutched at the folds of his cloak, the ornate silver hand that was his badge of office.

Roberts Death:

"I shall need a few moments to dress." Ned left the man waiting without. Cayn helped him with his clothes; white linen tunic and grey cloak, trousers cut open down his plaster-sheathed leg, his badge of office, and last of all a belt of heavy silver links. He sheathed the Valyrian dagger at his waist.

Execution:

He was dressed in a rich grey velvet doublet with a white wolf sewn on the front in beads, and a grey wool cloak trimmed with fur, but he was thinner than Arya had ever seen him, his long face drawn with pain.

[thelordofdarkreunion]

Things the Scoundrels are No Longer Allowed to Do- Part II

Based on “Skippy’s List,” I have continued “A List of Things the Scoundrels are No Longer Allowed to Do.”  I hope you enjoy it.  The original can be found here:

https://thelordofdarkreunion.tumblr.com/post/637424500291600384/a-list-of-things-the-scoundrels-are-no-longer

The group known as the Magnificent Scoundrels has gotten a bit out of hand.  This list was compiled by Admiral Hackett of the Systems Alliance, Admiral Kelly of the GA, Fleet Admiral Hood of the UNSC, Inquisitor Vail of the Holy Inquisition, Commander Briggs of the Frontier Militia, Princess Leia of the New Republic, and Director Fury of SHIELD in order to curb the Scoundrels’ more dangerous or inappropriate behaviors.  These rules apply to all Scoundrels and their teams/crews.

207.  Expended ammunition is not a business expense.

208.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to call requesions officers or quartermasters “sugar daddy.”

209.  There is no “anti-Shepard conspiracy” within the Scoundrels’ fleet.  That’s the Citadel Council’s thing.

210.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to adopt dogs to “sic on the brass.”

211.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to pay Revenant to kill people they don’t like.

212.  None of the Scoundrels are The Chosen One.  That was Anakin Skywalker.

213.  It is wrong to fire warning shots at drivers who do not recognize your right of way.

214.  Reading is not “for officers only.”

215.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to ask anyone who outranks them if they’ve been smoking crack.

216.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to turn their starship command rooms into throne rooms.  Especially with tacky carpets.

217.  We are not making clones out of any of you.  You are all hard enough to deal with as is.

218.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to steal any massive, mobile space stations or star fortresses, which include but are not limited to:

- The Rock

-The Phalanx

-The Citadel

-High Charity

-Cloud City

219.  Thomas Drake is not allowed to crash economies “because it’s fun.”

220.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to assign nicknames to anyone.

221.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to make chain guns that fire miniature nukes

222.   The weapons specialists of the Apocalypse are no longer allowed to collaborate with the engineers of the Normandy or Enterprise, and Quill is to give up the nuke chain gun.

[I will not!  How can you stop me?  I have a chain gun that fires nukes!]

223.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to wake up superior officers with cymbals

224.  Napalm Sticks to Kids is not a motivational song.

225.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to quote bastardized versions of Dr. Seuss rhymes on military operations.

226.  Command decisions do not need to be ratified by a ⅔ majority.

227.   The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to line their helmets with tin foil to “block out the space mind control lasers.”

228.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to start any SITREP (Situation Report) with “I recently had an experience I just had to write you about…”

229.  Do not attempt to take the gas masks off of Death Korps troopers.

230.  Rodents are not entitled to burial with full military honors, even if they are “casualties of war.”

231.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to mock command decisions in front of the press.

232.  You should not speculate on the penis size of anyone who outranks you.  Especially if they’re in earshot.

233.  You cannot arrest children for being rude.

234.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to create new, made-up government forms, then insist they be filled out.

235.  No one is allowed to perform “lap dances” in uniform.

236.  Past lives have absolutely no effect on the chain of command.

237.  Cain is technically allowed to kill any of you if he finds reason to, so stop pissing him off.

238.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to defect to other military service branches during training missions.

239.  Your race is not “other” on official documents.

240.  There is no Scoundrels ethics committee.  And if there was, Thomas Drake would not be chairman.

241.  Chainsaws are not the answer to every question.  Nor is “more chainsaws.”  Or “chainsaw cannons.”  Except for that one time, and yes, it was awesome.

242.  Stop posting classified information on social media.

243.  Adam Vir is no longer allowed to play “Hippocratic Oath chicken” with Dr. Kril.

244.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to cook nerve gas in the sink.

245.  There is no “annoy” setting on a phaser.

246.  A wet towel is not an improvised weapon.  Unless you’re Master Chief.  There’s a reason the Covenant calls him “The Demon.”

247.  I know you all have passes, but if the gun can’t fit through the x-ray machine, it doesn’t go on the plane.

248.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to download Internet Explorer into the Geth hivemind or the Martian noosphere.

249.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to demand payment in liquor, backrubs, or bubble wrap.

250.  Any Exterminatus-grade weapon is not “my little friend.”

251.  Airlocks do not double as waste disposals.

252.  No member of the Scoundrels or their crews are a pagan god or goddess of fertility.

253.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to learn profanities in any language that can bend reality.

254.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to steal their own souls.

255.  There is not a Space Marine Chapter whose heraldry is a smiley face.

256.  The following weapons are no longer allowed as dueling choices: steamrollers, nerve gas, land mines, or heavy artillery.

257.  Shepard is no longer allowed to drive or pilot anything.

258.  Han Solo is no longer allowed to attempt any piloting maneuver in which the original inventor was killed doing.

259.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to play The Only Thing They Fear is You every time a super soldier enters the battlefield.

260.  In formal introductions to nobility, you are not allowed to introduce your companions as “the other guys.”

261.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to monologue.

262.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to do anything that would make a Sith Lord cry.

263.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to get telepaths to hurry up the speeches of long winded politicians.

264.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to hand over annoying reporters to any organization that could be considered a theocracy.

265.  If a black op requires you to impersonate an employee, you are not allowed to bill the target for overtime.

266.  By definition, chaplains cannot be atheist.

267.  The proper response to the question “Why?” is not “Why not?”

268.  It is assumed that a properly trained Titan Pilot knows what at least one of the buttons in the Titan’s cockpit does, and it is wrong for Cooper to pretend otherwise.

269.  At the end of a high profile assassination mission, the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to play disco music on the target’s phone.

270.  The Scoundrels cannot hear the soundtrack.

271.  Thermonuclear hand grenades do not exist, and the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to try and make them.

272.  I assure all of the Scoundrels with absolute certainty that Ralph is not a traditional Japanese name.

273.  None of the Scoundrels are from Margaritaville.

274.  Hawaiian shirts are not part of any of our governments’ formal uniforms.

275.  Master Chief is not allowed to record Gravemind ASMR.

276.  The Scoundrels are not allowed to write tell-all books about anything.

277.  “Legends never die!” is not a valid excuse.

278.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to think of new, creative, or fun uses for cursed artifacts.

279.  Check the door means listen to see if there’s any activity on the other side, not put multiple rounds through it.

280.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to give wasabi to unsuspecting aliens.

281.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to do anything they saw Jackie Chan do.

282.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to implement any battle plan that includes the words “and hope they miss a lot.”

283.  There is an upper limit to the number of people a bullet can go through.

284.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to unionize the Unggoy.

285.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to hack forge world PA systems so they only play Allentown.

286.  Sarcasm is wasted on Imperial Stormtroopers.

287.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to upload porn to the HUDs of their commanding officers.

288.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to download porn from the HUDs of their commanding officers.

289.  No matter how tough the battle, the Scoundrels are to keep the congratulatory ass-slapping to a minimum.

290.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use time machines to invade Germany on August 31, 1939 and thus secure Belgian dominion over Europe.

291.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to Tokyo drift tanks

292.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to “catch air” in military vehicles.

293.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to send anything to the past, future, or alternate dimensions.

294.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to mount speakers on tanks to play Ghost Division as they drive into battle.

295.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to post memetic hazards on the internet.

296.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to bind eldritch dieties to their will and make them mow the lawn.

297.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to load weapons with all tracer rounds

298.  If your personal weapon can be read with a Geiger counter, you aren’t allowed to have it.

299.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to turn Khornite daemon worlds into self supporting blood banks.

300.  “Pimp my Death Star” is not a real show, and we are not bringing Grand Moff Tarkin back from the dead to host it.

301.  Prussian Glory March is not a disco song.

302.  We know that Shepard was brought back from the dead by Cerberus, but no matter how high profile or how close a friend, the Scoundrels are not allowed to ask Cerberus, the Adeptus Mechanicus, or, god forbid, Fabius Bile to bring anyone or anything back from the dead.

303.  Any weapon that can be set to “flay” is strictly forbidden.

304.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to sing the Oompa Loompa song every time someone annoying dies.

305.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to store squeeze tubes of explosive putty in medicine cabinets.

306.  On most planets, shoulder holsters are frowned upon as casual attire.

307.  Zero body count does not mean just the ones they can find.

308.  Walmart is not a one stop shopping place for hunting demons.

309.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to play football/soccer with AT-ST or Sentinel walkers.

310.  None of you are currently parents, but if you ever become one, Trazyn the Infinite is not to be named your child’s godfather.

311.  You know what, the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to name any of the following as godparents of any potential children:

-The God-Emperor of Mankind

- Emperor Palpatine

- Councilor Sparatus

- Leman Russ [Bjorn said it was OK so fuck you.]

- Kahless the Unforgettable

- Kuben Blisk

- Kharn the Betrayer

312.  Searching a building means entering it, not leveling it with artillery and digging through the rubble.

313.  FedEx does not deliver to Tatooine.

314.  None of the Scoundrels are allowed to single-handedly make Starfleet Academy the number one party school in the universe.

315.  Covering fire does not include nuclear weapons.

316.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to challenge anyone to a dance-off to the death.

317.  Kirk, rifts in the time-space continuum are not for your personal amusement.

318.  Blowing up the top twenty floors of a building is not a “diversion.”

319.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to convince Sith Lords to use Force lighting on their welding projects.

320.  Canadian is not a real language, and you can’t set your translators to it.

321.  There is no such thing as a were-saxophonist.

322.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to tell new personnel that starship windows can be rolled down.

323.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to start wars between major weapons corporations, especially “because I’m bored.”

324.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to clear enemy underground bunker complexes just using Bangalore torpedoes.

325.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to order a lance of Imperial Knights to perform synchronized dance numbers.

326.  The Scoundrels are to leave out human mating rituals when presenting cultural exchanges to alien ambassadors.

327.  When raiding enemy corporations or terrorist organizations, the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to look at the target’s HR files to see if they have better benefits.

328.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use time machines to collect autographs.

329.  Any buttocks belonging to the Scoundrels or any of their crews are permanently forbidden from making contact with any copy machine.

330.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to go FTL to avoid red lights.

331.  “Just throw them out the airlock” is not a backup first contact protocol.

332.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use the Enterprise’s transporters to fill enemy starships with jello.

333.  None of the Scoundrels are the patron saints of large explosions.

334.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to make, accept, or take rake-offs on bets concerning X-class end-of-the-universe scenarios.

335.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to go on PA systems and announce they just won The Game.  Goddammit.

336. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to trick Captain Marvel and Cato Sicarius any superheroes or super soldiers they deem “annoying” into fighting each other.

337.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to sell tickets to or organize cage matches between prominent super soldiers.

338.  Lockpicking and door breaching are two entirely different things.

339.  Performing obscene acts while in the cockpit of or piloting large combat mechs is strictly prohibited.

340.  Freeing slaves out of justice is good.  Out of spite, not so much.

341.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to compose offensive emails during stealth operations on the target CEO’s email and subsequently CC the entire company.

342.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to recreate the Charge of the Light Brigade with the Death Riders of Krieg.

343.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use telepaths to get out of speeding tickets.

344.  The state-controlled news service of the Imperium of Man most definitely does not have a liberal bias.

345.  Likewise, the state-controlled news service of the United Federation of Planets does not have a conservative bias.

346.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to kidnap Ewoks or Volus and put them in hamster wheels.

347.  Adam Vir is to, by order of Supreme Grand Master Azrael of the Dark Angels, return the Watchers in the Dark he took from The Rock as pets.

348.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to spend the entirety of their bonus pay on lottery tickets.

349.  The very concept of a Hutt lap dancer will earn a surprise visit from the Deathwatch.

350.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use grenade launchers to play bocce ball.

351.  If you are unsure of which side of the road you are supposed to drive on, the middle of the road is not a healthy compromise.

352.  No matter how cool it would be, the Scoundrels are not allowed to use any time machine to loan General Eisenhower a squadron of X-wings for D-Day.

353.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to program medical droids for “aggressive dentistry.” 

354.  The Scoundrels are to stop trying to get a reality TV show based on themselves.

355.  Garrus Valkarian is not “on loan” to the Vindicare Temple to improve either his or their sniping skills.

356.  Pointing out a massive plothole in any bad guy’s plan will not stop them from attacking you.

357.  Preliminary nuclear bombardment is not automatically Plan A.

358.  Maverick and Tope are not tax exempt for being chaplains. 

359.  Thomas Drake is to stop teaching classes to the rest of the Scoundrels on tax evasion.

360.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to refit tanks with jump jets.

361.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to create their own currencies.

362.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to set Jawas on fire with a massive magnifying glass.

363.  The Stanley Cup does not have the same power as the Holy Grail.  Not even on Canadians.

364.  The Scoundrels are not allowed to steal the Stanley Cup.

365.   The Eldar really hate it when you greet them with “Live long and prosper.”

366.   The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to give pre-teen children their phone numbers, especially when they are on black ops.

367.  You cannot partake in the sport of fencing with a broadsword.

368.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to switch nationalities or service branches for tax purposes.

369. None of the Scoundrels are “He who must not be named only in passing.”

370.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to shoot at natural disasters.

Well, there it is.  I hope you enjoyed it, and if you would like to add to the list, feel free!  

[subbing-for-clones]

The New Apprentice Part 12

Maul x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

WARNINGS: mentions to sex, FLUFF, the fluffiest chapter by far. Enjoy it cause I’m gonna hurt your feelings in the next one NGL

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       True to both parts of his word, Maul demanded that your suggestions be carried out; with little resistance from the government that Almec put together it didn’t take long for your plan to come to fruition. While the gears were turning Maul continued your training, an expansive space in the court yard was repurposed for sparring. To your delight, several members of the Death Watch accepted your invitation after promising to keep it purely physical, no ‘force magic’ as they put it. Their addition meant that Maul could continue to work with the syndicates and members of Mandalorian government to further his desires for power and you didn’t have to wait for him to be free to train. Of course, he made time for you every morning; discussing Sith philosophies and history while every evening you meditated together.

    It didn’t take long for the tabloids to gather information about the Manda’lor’s generous gesture to restore farm lands to their original clan and to seed them; not with tax money but straight from the purse of the woman who had seized them to begin with. He practically gushed to himself in the privacy of his office at the praise from the people. He wasn’t even finished with your original plan and already he was coming up with more to gain the citizen’s loyalty. Maul was nothing if he wasn’t thorough in his scheming and when he discovered that the Mandalorians as a people had a long and strenuous relationship with the Jedi, to put it lightly, he resolved himself to arm every man and woman once again. By the end of his precise forty step plan, he would have not just an army but an entire planet up in arms should the Jedi come for him, his brother or his love. The last article he read ended with a question, a call to the Mand’alor to be present for the relighting of the oldest forge on the planet. Knowing good publicity when he saw it; he made the call to Almec to schedule it for as soon as possible and he made his way to go find you.

    He smiled at the sight when he walked out onto the courtyard. You and Savage were back-to-back with your sabers twirling wildly and your stances shuffling. Several Death Watch surrounded you on foot while more flew around you with their jet packs, firing blaster bolts that, he hoped, were set to stun. He took a moment to watch you, admiring how far you’ve come with your saber skills while recalling how truly terrible you had been just a few months ago. Just a few months ago. That’s all it took to steal his heart and change his life. What a fickle thing time was. He spent a decade alone and distending into madness, accomplishing nothing, but in a matter of months. Months, his brother had rescued him, he had fallen in love and he was now a ruler on his way to being genuinely liked by his people. He shook his head at the realization as you and his brother redirected the bolts away skillfully, being sure not to strike one of your guard. Some of them were laughing wildly in excitement and he saw that you had lived up to your own word. You’d make them like you, it seemed like you were making good progress on that. It is quite cathartic to be able to shoot at the people or person who makes you uneasy, even if it isn’t lethal. Perhaps next time he would join you in this particular kind of training, you did make it look enjoyable as a smile was apparent on both Savage’s and your face.

    One of the guards noticed Maul standing in their peripheral and called for a cease fire. Bodies clad in red and black Beskar fell into a rigid formation and a salute, he very quickly put them at ease stating he just needed to have a word with you and Savage. One of the women who you must have grown closer to elbowed you playfully before following her comrades back into the palace. Savage approached with you at his side, both grinning and sweaty from your training.

“I still think you should ask her out,” you teased Savage before turning your attention to Maul, eliciting only a huff from the golden Zabrak. “What is it you’d like to discuss my love?” you asked while he took your hand in his.

“Well firstly I’d like to applaud the both of you for performing so well in this unorthodox style of practice. It seems to be paying off quite well.” Both you and Savage exchanged a wide grin at his praises. “Secondly, my presence has been requested for the lighting of an ancient forge and I think it would be more than appropriate to have both my brother and my darling at my side.”

    Savage was especially gleeful at the invitation; he had started to grow an affection on one of the Death Watch members and had taken it upon himself to learn as much about the culture as he possibly could. You were also quite excited at the opportunity to leave the palace grounds. Since that stunt you pulled during Maul’s coup, he had been more open about your relationship with the people within his proximity. He still wasn’t much for PDA but everyone knew you shared a room and a bed. He had also referred to you with your pet names in front of others rather than simply ‘apprentice.’ In fact, the more you thought about it, he hadn’t referred to you as his apprentice for a short time now; you still called him either Master or Lord Maul when you weren’t alone or with Savage. He seemed to understand that you demanded respect for him as much, if not more so, than he did for himself.

    It was the following day that you had awoken alone in your bed but something caught your eye. He had sent up a silver tray with fresh hot tea for you with little biscuits and fruits. He had draped a long dress bag over the end of the obscenely large bed with a note filled with sweet nothings. For a Sith Lord and a murderer he really was quite the romantic. You gasped when you unzipped the bag to find a beautifully simple long black silken gown accompanied by cascading tear drop shaped ruby earrings and lovely crimson shoes with only a slight heel on them. You loved wearing his colors and he loved seeing them on you. After you had arranged your hair and painted a simple make up look on your face you found both Savage and Maul waiting you in the throne room, ready to depart.

    They had presented themselves as the Lords they were as well. Savage adorned new robes in his dark navy color with charcoal grey accents while Maul stole your breath straight from your chest. He was still dripped in black but his robes were crafted of a similarly silken material to your dress. His trademark deep V allowed for the delightful view of his strong chest and tattoos that painted his skin. A delicate gold chain looped from his temporal horn to attach to a gold ring he wore in the top of his ear with another draped around his neck, following the lines of his exposed skin. You loved that earring and had told him every chance you could. He truly did look like a king and Savage, his right hand beside him. You greeted one another with bright smiles as you took the arm Maul had extended for you. Heat flushed your cheeks when he told you how you looked absolutely ravishing and whispered his more sinful desires to you through the force of what he would do to you the moment they returned.

    Accompanied by three Beskar clad guards, you made your way to the ship that had been prepared for you. One of the guards you recognized as the particularly petite young woman that Savage had started to develop an interest in. Kiara, you liked her and had started to develop a friendly rapport with the young woman. When you noticed her continuously glancing at him you jabbed your free elbow into his ribs lightly and waggled your eyebrows at him. He simply bit back a chuckle but you didn’t miss how his cheeks tinged a deeper gold.

    The ceremony was simple and utterly beautiful on the other side of the planet. Several clan heads had attended, wearing their beskar proudly as the appointed armorer for this particular forge, clad in gold coloring lit the forge with a torch after reciting the Resol’nare. She had given Maul a respectful nod when the sixth action, referring to the leader had been spoken to which he returned with a slight bow of his own head. You felt a surge of pride when the forge had been lit, knowing you played even a small part in giving these people a piece of themselves back to them. A few reporters had recorded the entirety of the ceremony and after it was completed, they turned to Maul asking for an interview which he politely declined.

“Today is an important occasion for every Mandalorian and I do not wish to draw away from it but I would be happy to partake in an interview in the near future so I may express my plans and course of action to see them through to every citizen,” and with that, warm handshakes were exchanged until your small guard had directed you back to the ship. He played politician as well as he played the syndicates. Dual tunes of light and dark and you thought for a moment how grey your lover truly was. You recalled the first time your minds truly, purposefully melded, that first night you were conscious on Zanbar, the first time you lay with one another. He was that last burst of sunlight during the dusk, just before it set.

    When you had returned to the palace you could see several Mandalorians etching something into the stone above the main entrance to the Sundari Palace, upon closer examination you could read ‘Through Passion I gain Strength. Through Strength I gain Power. Through Power I gain Victory. Education and armor, self-defense, our tribe, our language, our leader all help us survive.’ Your eyes welled up with how beautifully the Sith code and the Mandalorian’s Resol’nare flowed so beautifully together; etched in stone for all to see and gain strength from. You could feel the pride of every Mandalorian who gazed upon the lettering through the force. Maul’s silent promise not to damn or forget about the ideals of his new people or his own.

      Plans to throw a gala, inviting the heads and spouses of every major clan on the planet were drawn up immediately following the forge lighting. The intention to hear the needs and wants from the people directly. Once again, he didn’t draw from the well of the peoples’ taxes to throw an extravagant party, but used a small percentage of the wealth that was starting to accumulate from heading the various syndicates. A small detail that you admired and praised him for extensively.

    The gala went better than anyone could’ve foreseen for a number of reasons. Firstly, to your own amusement, you recognized Kiara out on the dance floor with Savage. She wore a deep navy gown to match his attire and her silver toned Karta Beskar proudly, his large hand holding her small waist tightly. You wondered if either of their smiles would ever fade and you hoped they wouldn’t. Maul happily allowed him a ‘night off’ so to speak and kept you at his side during his conversations with the leaders of the various clans.

    It was impossible to lie to a skilled force user so the second reason that the night had gone so well was the fact that the gifting of the farm lands, the relighting of the forge and even the small detail of the etching of the stone above the palace’s entrance had paid off in regards to the favor Maul was quickly gaining. He took their concerns to heart and responded eloquently, offering slight alterations to the more unreasonable requests and all but promising to see to the much more manageable ones and the invited reporters caught every moment of it.

    Finally, when the formalities had ended Maul was free to take your hand and glide you across the dance floor. Despite his one cybernetic leg he moved as gracefully as ever and smiling endearingly at you. His eyes locked softly on your own. It was during this time you had noticed that his eyes weren’t so bloodshot. The creases in his brow that seemed so permanent had started to fade and his muscles, usually so ridged and stressed, moved with more fluidity and ease. Again, your heart swelled, this is what he deserved. Happiness. Love, adoration, respect from all who came within proximity of him. Long after the guests had left and Savage accompanied Kiara down to walk through the gardens; Maul led you to the terrace to dance slowly under the moonlight to a silent song only the two of you could hear.

    The following day while you and Maul sipped caf in your bedroom during the early morning hours, the scent of sex and sweat still hinting in the air, you read through the articles written about the gala. As to be expected, Maul received high praise simply for inviting advocates of the people to speak with him personally along with slander towards Satine for never doing anything even remotely like what Maul had done. To your surprise as well, you had been mentioned a few times regarding your proximity to the Mand’alor and your kindness and competence had been quoted by a few of the leaders.

    The last article you read had a picture you hadn’t realized was even taken. It showed you and your lover hand in hand, mid twirl out of the balcony in the dim light of the moon and the stars. The headline asking a faceless reader if a royal marriage was imminent. Maul chuckled as he read over the same headline and just as he opened his mouth to speak a loud knock sounded from the door.

    Pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance he called out, granting entry. Savage entered with a goofy grin asking if you were ready to spar much to your delight. You were eager to hear how the rest of his evening had gone with Kiara. You quickly dressed from your silken night gown into your typical training garb and kissed your lover goodbye before skipping after the larger Zabrak.

    Maul sighed and smiled to himself, drinking the last of his caf and sending Almec a list of things he wanted to accomplish over the next two weeks for the people of Mandalore. He stood to get dressed but hesitated for a moment before leaving the confines of his luxurious bedroom, hand holding a small box in his pocket tightly.

    When it had happened, he almost couldn’t believe it. Some saber-staffs are able to operate on only a single kyber crystal but his master believed he needed the power of two for his to function at maximum strength. He had sent Gar Saxon to Lotho Minor on a secret mission that even Savage hadn’t been aware of. The commander had managed to find the broken half of his saber-staff with the crystal still intact. It had taken Maul almost two weeks but he had managed to cleanse his corruption from the small crystal, restoring it to its soft blue glow.

    What you hadn’t seen during the lighting of the forge was Maul had requisitioned the armorer to cast a ring from the metal of his broken half and set the stone inside it. She had slipped him the finished product during the gala.

    He took the small box out of his pocket and admired her work again. He knew you favored a simple elegance over extravagant gaudy ones. His purified Kyber crystal shined brightly in the silver band and his heart swelled with hope. Since the night you had accidently shared memories, he wanted to give you his life, his very soul. This was closest thing to being able to do that as possible and he had to plan the perfect moment to do it. What he didn’t realize was that it would be much longer before he could even try.

[a-shakespearean-in-paris]

The Inquisitor’s Throne

I wrote this and realized it fits in with @14daysdalovers “Midnight Rendezvous” prompt. Cullen and Lydia Trevelyan, NSFW. Piece contains semi public sex, mild dirty talk, oral sex, and clothed sex all on a throne. Please enjoy! Also on A03

Dainty, delicate Inquisitor Lydia Trevelyan they call her. She can certainly play the part, look good in rich silks and swish her hand elegantly when she has to. It’s comes easy to charm a few nobles with carefully placed words, though she only does it if she must. Few deserve her sweet words, and one has them all.

Yet she had a cup, one she carries with her that no one else can see other than those closest to her. Sometimes it overfills. Sometimes it spills, and delicate, dainty Lydia can’t wear the carefully placed mask anymore. These are the times where all she wants is her lover to remind her she was more than some precious doll.

Maker. At Skyhold and past midnight, finally done with wearing the mask at this silly social, she wants him to claw at her, possess her, throw her on his desk of his and mark her. She wants him fucking hard.

Now.

Such primal parts of her sexuality used to frighten her. Tempered and tamed in recent years she found that primordial part of herself could bloom as easily as the part of her that loved with no reservation. Her lover, who inhabited his body like a lion cast spells of his own. He was a remnant of a time forgotten, roughhewn and forged with fire with scars to prove it. His fucking was a sweet restorative, and she craved it all throughout that dinner, all through Lord Farquar’s bitter speeches of fine women and the might of the Inquisition. Beautiful the Lord called her in her long red dress and pulled back hair, golden shoes on her feet. He eyed that silver Andraste at her collar and asked no questions mercifully. He demanded until she yielded, and she would not yield. She’d have no answers anyway. He wouldn’t deserve it if she did.

The great hall was filled earlier, yet now it’s midnight and quiet she slips inside the study Solas once used to frequent. Once Solas would have smirked at her, as he knew she took this route to her lover. Yet with him not there she makes the trip unnoticed, and she remains unnoticed when she opens the door to his office. His back toward her he’s out of his armor with a book in his hand. It’s one of those adventure novels he covets, one she’s picked up to read herself when she far away from him. When she’s away she relishes in the intimacy of reading the same words as he. Her heels click against the stone floor toward him before she wraps her arms around him, embraces him from behind as he dissolves against her, putting the book up on the shelves. She kisses the back of his neck before sinking her teeth there, laving the spot with her tongue. He moans before he turns around, cupping her face in his broad hands.

She looks beautiful, he says, tilting her chin up and kissing her. She certainly didn’t feel as such till he said it, till his arms are around her and she’s encased in his smell. He’s sweat and the sweetness of elderflower, earthy oakmoss and something distinctly man. She feels more woman when he grips her curves, when his stubble scratches her delicate skin.

 “Fuck me hard Cullen.”

His answer is a small “oh,” eyes wide. Maker he even blushes and she wants to laugh. He, whose taken her on his desk, who moved the mirror closer to their bed so he may watch her ride him. “Pick me up and take me upstairs,” she whispers as she kisses him once more, his cock growing harder against her. “Tell me I’m yours.”

“Rather take you to your room,” he says, kissing her neck. “Your mirror is there.”

“You’re so proud of how you fill me, aren’t you?” she asks, caressing his neck and lightly scratching her nails, her breath against his ear. “Then take me away.”

She leads him out of his office and into the empty great hall. It’s midnight and no one is about to watch the Commander take the Inquisitor into his arms and into a hot and searing kiss, a prelude to more. He tugs on the sleeve of her dress to pull it down, baring a part of her breast. His lips are warm against her skin as he cradles her back, pressing their bodies together. She hums, wrapping her arms around him, willing and wishing to dissolve.

“Turn around,” he whispers in her ear. She does so for him, wondering what he wants her to look at. All she sees is her large and expansive throne where she sits in judgement, silver moonlight casting blue and purple shadows against it. It is the seat of the high Enchanters’ gilded in gold and adorned with dragons along the side. A fine symbol for her role as Inquisitor, a seat only for her.

Yet she asks “Cullen?” as she strangely doesn’t understand, at least not at first. They’ve been brazen but this would be another matter entirely.

Still, he wraps his arms around her middle, presses his cheek next to hers. He says, “there,” and yes, he would be even more brazen.              

She gulps. He’ll rescind, she’s sure, but he nips at her neck and says he wants her spread open there, wants to taste her there. He can’t wait and he’d rather have her elegantly on her throne than in the hallway leading to her room or against the wall.  Judging by the way she leans against him, rubbing herself against his hardness, she can’t wait either.

“My dearest,” he says, his arms still around her, a warm hand slipping underneath her dress, touching her breast, and further pulling down the sleeve. It’s such a sweet endearment he says to contrast with such bawdiness. “Haven’t you ever thought of us there?”

“Yes,” she admits, gasping when he takes one of her pert nipples between his fingertips and squeezes gently. “But someone could see.”

“Has that ever mattered?

Fucking no, never. It is the final pull, because yes, she too can be brazen. Turning in his arms she lets him lead her to the throne. She sits there as she always does yet as an empress rather than Inquisitor, and he sinks to his knees, parts her thighs to sit between them. “That’s my girl,” he says as he kisses his way up her leg, Lydia gathering and pulling her red skirts up for him. She stares with unmasked, unashamed lust at his golden head, his scarred mouth open against her calf, moving upward to her knee and thigh. She helps him slide off her undergarment, crimson red like her dress, and when it falls to the ground next to them she makes a mental note to pick it up later lest someone see. She grabs his hair, twists the curls as her legs spread further apart. How many times has she sat on this spot, a crowd of people all staring at her and waiting for her to make a judgement or say something worthwhile. When she takes her lover’s mouth on her throne, his tongue lapping over her clit, she groans quietly, wishing it could be louder, wishing her cries of pleasure could echo through the room so loudly she’ll hear it again the next time she’s here and must remain nothing more than a pretty doll. She’s survived and lived and loved and fucked and it’s Cullen who she loves and fucks and makes her empress of lust, love, and want.

With one slow, sinful press he slides his forefinger inside, then another. She thrusts her hips closer to his face and he takes in her musky scent. She curses and thrashes as he builds on her growing frissons, compelling her to come on his face. With strangled breaths her thighs clamp around his cheeks, coming for him as he crooks his finger inside her. She reels in her residual waves, breathes and pants heavily as she comes back to earth. Hazy as she is however she’s still cognizant enough to push down his breeches and that tunic he’s wearing so’s bare in front of her on her throne. In the spilling moonlight he is baked marble from his time in the sun, silver from where his numerous scars have healed and dusted with golden hair on his chest and lower abdomen leading to his cock. All marble, gold, and silvered radiance, her hands grab his slim hips, her lips leaving kisses on his abdomen. Come take me fair knight, she thinks of saying as she strokes his cock, soft moans so sweet from his parted hips, but she has another idea.

Standing, skirts falling to her feet she throws her arms around his neck, kisses him and moves him over in front of her throne. She leads him down upon it and he smirks as if he’s some proud thane of a great hold. She sits astride him and he holds her ass, grabs it without shame and caresses underneath her cloths so the first thing anyone would see if they entered was the Commander’s hands on his Inquisitor on her throne. She hopes they know he touches her good. If she could she’d wear his love marks like tattoos.

She gathers up her skirts once more as he angles his cock toward her entrance. The skirts cover them as she holds his shoulders for balance, and he wraps his arms around her as she rises and falls and bounces on his cock, keeping her hands on his neck and keeping their eyes locked. He’s deep this way, full and warm and almost too much. But she can take him, take all of him. He never makes her cup spill or overflow.

“You feel good,” he says as his lips meet hers. “That’s my girl. You’re no one’s but mine.”

She told him earlier, tell me I’m yours. “Your mine,” she says in turn. ��Cullen…”

“I know, I know…” She gasps as he sticks his hand underneath her cloths. “I love being yours.”

“You fill me up so fucking good…”

He chuckles as she moves, asks him if he ever thought she’d take him here of all places. “Maybe I dreamed of you here,” he says as he nips her neck. Someday they’ll leave this place and if the magic there is a strong as she has been told it is, the walls will imprint the memory of the Commander and Inquisitor fucking sweetly and adoringly, and a thousand years from now her words will still be etched in the stone, Cullen you fuck me so good…

He captures her in a kiss as she comes again on top of him with the beckoning of his fingers against her clit. A piercing cry would alert nearby guards, and as it is they’ve already had too much luck in this moment. They cling and he claws and they hold each other as the only thing that makes sense in the whole world. The way they lock and meet and join is what matters, not the show or the pomp or her mask as Inquisitor. This is real. Them.

He comes in her arms with her name sweetly on his lips. Her thighs ache from the movement, pleasant before yet not burning, and her are legs pressed against the hard stone of the throne. She chuckles when she thinks of how much his bare rear must hurt against it—it hurts her covered rear when she has to sit in judgement for long periods of time. Yet he keeps her in his arms when she tries to remove herself, burying his head in the crook of her neck. His lips are soft where his stubble is roughish, and it strikes her how even though he’s a strong man, a good man, and one that makes her feel safe, he too feels safe when she holds him. They dissolve into each other in their world together crafted in the great hall of the Inquisition.

They kiss when she cups his face in her hands, his lips moving down her neck and toward her exposed breast. He takes her sleeve and brings it back from where he pulled it down as she adjusts herself, removing her hips from him. His spend skims down her thigh and she can’t imagine the tailor in Val Royeux who sewed together such finery would have dared to imagine the Inquisitor using the long skirts it to wipe away her lover’s dripping seed. Reluctantly, she at last removes herself, Cullen hasty as he puts his clothes back on. They laugh and think they’ve won whatever game they decided to play on the way back to her quarters, laugh at their own place where they make the rules. They are unscathed. No one saw, as much as perhaps she wouldn’t have minded if anyone did…

At any rate, round two happens in her quarters, the bed softer on their bodies, their moans no longer stifled. Upon no throne, he makes her an empress still.

****

Cullen tells her the next day when she comes to him in his office that he got a note, blushing as he does. She reopens it at his prompting.

Dear Curly, Fire’s smalls are behind the throne. Might want to get them, though there is at least one Orlesian noble who thought it was kinky. PS: thanks for the inspiration. Shocked I didn’t think of it sooner for Swords and Shields.

“I…forgot my smalls,” she says as she scans the letter, her cheeks going how. “Marvelous.”

Though he blushes too, there is a smile that cracks on his face. “You know, maybe I’ll pick up Swords and Shields.”

“But you already have so many interesting ideas all on your own.”

He laughs before he takes her into his arms.

[juuls]

Juulna’s ‘Hold Onto Your Sanity’ Fic, Book, and Music Recs for the 2020 Dumpster Fire... Part 3!

So you just crash-landed behind enemy lines in a war you know barely anything about except that your role seems infinitesimal and insignificant, and dumped into a year, 2020, that already seems fifteen years too long.

Before you drown your sorrows in some fantastic scotch or wine coolers for days (or weeks)… I have a proposal.

That you step back from the flames, tune things out for a bit, and try to forget about the outside world for a while (but don’t forget to vote or I will be very sad at you!).

These fics are meant to take you out of your head (I’m including more plot/story-minded fics than PWP) for the next few weeks or months as the world goes to hell (even more) but of course there are some bits of solid angst in these as there is wont to be in many a fic. Check the tags, read responsibly, don’t like-don’t read, ship and let ship, and please do leave a kudos and maybe even a comment! :)

This is PART THREE.

Check out here for Part One and most of the Marvel fic recs, along with a selection of book recs too. :)

And here’s Part Two, which has the bulk of my Star Wars and Game of Thrones recs, along with Spotify playlists!

Part Three is this one here, all about the Potterverse.

(Not yet complete) Here’s Part Four, filled with even more shippy goodness from all over the Star Trek universe. So. Many. Ships. :D

(Not yet complete) Part Five is Witcher, Man From UNCLE, Stargate: Atlantis and SG-1, Sherlock, Hannibal, and Doctor Who.

(Not yet complete) Part Six will probably be all for my newfound love of Supergirl, along with some Game of Thrones and Marvel ships I skipped, because I gotta stop somewhere with all these recommendations or I’ll be at it forever. Seriously, how much of this stuff have I read!?

But I think we all need some distractions from the world these days, eh? Or something to console us other than internet rage and a barrel of ice cream and/or hard alcohol.

Potterverse

I’ve chosen to pick fics (mostly) off of AO3 for their easy reading access, though HP fics’ golden years were on sites like fanfiction.net and other independent archives like Sycophanthex and others which have closed their doors over the years, sadly. Some of these fics date back to almost 20 years old, or more, amazingly!

For fics on fanfiction.net, I highly recommend using this link (FicSave) to epub/mobi converter rather than dealing with the frustrating app. It functions like AO3′s built-in download button.

SSHG/Sevmione

Rec assistance by @perrydowning​

Second Life by Lariope

Phantom of Hogwarts by Good_Witch

Romancing the War by Pubella

The Poison Garden by turtle_wexler @turtlewexlerwrites

A Light in the Fog by turtle_wexler

Pride of Time by AnubisAnkh

The Savage by MagdatheMagpie

Snape’s Story by Tbird1965

Recognition by jezzie (krith)

Tedium of Time by oneredshoe

Tango by Desert_Sea

Sense and Insensibility by Desert_Sea

Time Mutable Immutable by Grooot

The Twenty by Leyna Rountree

For the Only Hope by ausland @run-with-me-to-the-sea

Bundle of Joy by LadyTuesday

Our Hands Tied by multilingualism

Choose Something Like A Star by TeddyRadiator

Mistress of the Stacks by Ms_Anthrop

A Derailed Train of Thought by Ms_Anthrop

Antiquities by stormcorona

Watch Over Me by @snapeslittleblackbuttons​

Dropped Down into the Unknown by @q-drew​

Delicate Transitions by @morbidmuch​

Lay Me Low by TeddyRadiator

The Savage by MagdatheMagpie

Another Dream by @dragoon811​

A Chance For Happiness by @corvusdraconis​

Breath of the Nundu by corvusdraconis, Dragon_and_the_Rose

Just to Be by Amarti @amarti-writes-stuff​

Hinge of Fate by Ramos

Forged in Flames by @mswhich​

Days in the Sun by bluespring864

Making sure the boy who lived, actually does by Hold_en @hold-enwrites​

The Problem With Purity by Phoenix.Writing

One Step Forward, Two Decades Back by corvusdraconis

The Headmaster’s Wife by Mrs_HH @propertyofseverustsnape

The Master, the Warden, the Headmaster, and the Deputy by mak5258

Cloak of Courage by Wendynat

Hermione Granger and the Intended Vessels by ShawnaCanon

Augury and Ardor by SnapeySnax

Before the Dawn by snarkyroxy

The Love You Take by Subversa

His Draught of Delicate Poison by Subversa

and sooooo many more if you want them just ask, this is both mine and Perry’s oldest ship lol

Gramander (Original Graves x Newt)

A Gilded Cage is Still a Cage by Anonymous

take a deep breath (and let it go) by lincesque @tumbloncat

Roar by @elenothar

Matchmaker, Matchmaker by @prosodiical

Dearly Beloved by prosodiical

Basic Instincts by @manic-intent

Promised by Miss_Lv

Plan G by Aate

Heat of the Chase by argentoswan @wannahearaboutmycats

Newt Scamander’s Guide to Getting Things Done by arthureameslove

Against all Odds by Maril

Where I Belong by Mishafied

He Wants To Say, “I Love You, Nothing Can Hurt You”  by @obsidionwingsofmidnight

Arranged by Miss_Lv

death of a bachelor by gudetama (elementary)

The Graves Identity by Mishafied

you make me feel this way somehow by gudetama (elementary)

The Nature of the Beast by AntiGravitas @absolutelynogravitaswhatsoever

The Knights, the Newt, and the Rose by @yinyangswings

The Wizard’s Cat by @natecchi

The Color of Boom by gypsiangel

Signalling Theory: Blue Coat by @obaewankenope​

Flame by @esamastation​

And The Tag Read Simply: “Pretty” by @funkzpiel​

Aren’t You Gonna Arrest Me, Officer? by JoyBurd

a little bit lost by shortbread @shortbread-fanfiction​

Dramione

Rec assistance by @cuthian​

Seven Times by kerri240879

Her Beauty and the Moonlight by BrilliantLady

The Fallout by everythursday (orphaned and only available on AO3 now, but complete)

The Eagle’s Nest by HeartOfAspen

Turncoat by elizaye @imnotleavinherewithoutyou

The Virgin Conundrum by AkashaTheKitty @akashathekitty

Bad Faith by Morrighan256

Isolation by bexchan @bex-chan-blog

The Serpent, the Witch, and the Broom Closet by bitchywitchy

Silencio by AkashaTheKitty

All You Want by senlinyu @senlinyu

Static by galfoy @heymanticore

What the Room Requires by Alydia Rackham

And We All Fall Down by @rumaan

Ambition’s End by Hanako A

Wait and Hope by mightbewriting @mightbewriting

Rewriting Destiny by mayawrites95 (mayarox95)

Chronos Historia by In_Dreams @indreamsink

A Muggle-born Magic by Musyc @willhavetheirtrinkets

Hunted by Bex-chan

A Second Look by @riverwriter

The Nietzsche Classes by Beringae

This Too, Is Sacred by HeartOfAspen

Bite First, Ask Questions Later by Daredevilsinthedetails, Kaylessi

Nocturnus by In_Dreams @indreamsink

Broken by @inadaze22​

The Green Girl by Colubrina

Lady of the Lake by Colubrina

Rebuilding by Colubrina (really just anything written by @colubrina)

Presque Toujours Pur by @shayalonnie

Can’t Change the Way I Am by @nauticalparamour

Law and Marriage by DragonGrin (formerly TeenTypist)

The Tower Window by @xodramaqueenox​

Unexpected by Emara88

Something Old, Something New by Kate Dessi

Suppressed Emotions by hopelesslydevoted.xx 

Silver Blood by @freyaishtar

When the Day Met the Night by @bex-la-get

Harmony

A Marauder’s Plan by CatsAreCool (Rachel500)

A Step to the Right by CatsAreCool (Rachel500)

Eighth by lorien829

The Catalyst by lorien829

Harry Potter and the Isle of Mists by lorien829

Knife’s Edge by Celtic55

The Black Book by mosteveryonesmad

Awakening by SweetShireen

The Sword and the Snake by bartonfink1974

Dispelling the Silence by Indygodusk

One Year Later: Return to Hogwarts by Twilight’s Inferno

DraHarmony

Fourteen Thousand Galleons by @frumpologist

The Invitation by hot_elf @hot-elf

Love Love Love by MissELY @misselylux​

Changing Scenery by aethling

East of Eden by msmerlin @ms-merlinblack

Turn Back Time by Dazeventura6

Foxfire by @setissma

Come Together by @nuclearnik

The Soul of the Wolves by LR_Earl @fanficbylrearl

Running From Lions by tryslora @tryslora

An Unexpected Family by ladyroxanne21

The Prophecies by jamcreynolds

Drarhinny

Reconstruction by @aldersprig​

Fell From the Sky by BrandonStrayne @brandonstrayne​ (I really love this one, and not just as a Canadian.)

Demons From the Past by pottermum

Drarry

Rec assistance by @newtypeshadow​

Rarely Pure and Never Simple by birdsofshore

Aural Gratification by birdsofshore

Lost Among and Falling by @bafflinghaze

The Corruption Sequence series by beren @berenwrites

Sentinel ‘verse series by elyssblair @elyssblair-blog

Date Blindness by dysonrules

Starts With a Spin by Maxine @serasarahhhh​

Temptation on the Warfront by alizarincrimson

Paradigm by dysonrules

Here’s The Pencil, Make It Happen by ignatiustrout

Draco Sodding Malfoy by Shewhxmustnxtbenamed @shewhomustnotbenamed

Pieces of What by Jadwiga

Found, Not Lost by inspiration_assaulted

Shared Detention by DadIWriteGayPorn

Dirty Little Secret by Writcraft @writcraft​

19 Years by shilo1364 @whimsicaldragonette​

Morning Suns & Coffee Runs by laugh_a_latte @queer-coffee​

Reus Una by purplepen76

Between Ink and Blood by Candamira

Ginmione

Distractions by @morningsound15​ 

Cissamione

(This seems like it’s a bit cracky, but there’s some good ones, I promise! I sorta stumbled ass-backwards into this ship but really enjoy some of them.)

One Step Left by Cysteine @cysteine

Extinction by @rubikanon​

Blinding Light by @16-pennies​

Somebody Loved by beforeyouspeak

...

..

There. This is much better, isn’t it?

So my challenge to you, if your world is falling, burning down around you in flames... is this:

...if you feel yourself getting anxious or depressed, whether from the news or being cooped up in isolation or bored or on the verge of tearing your hair out or jumping off that roof or grabbing something to go after the dictator-of-the-week.... pause, take a breath, open up this rec list, close your eyes and pick something, and let chance take you somewhere hopefully far away. Let yourself be transported.

Oh, and don’t click on this Google Drive link. Really, there’s not 30+ GB of data on that Drive I’m sharing. Shame. There totally aren’t tens of thousands of books, as many audiobooks as could fit, and a large collection of fanfiction downloaded from AO3 in there. (Also, not all fics have been shared to that folder yet; I’m working on it a little at a time as I download more.)

[gerbiloftriumph]

The Silence Between Snowflakes

(also on ao3)

His name was Gwydion--but that wasn't his name. He lived in Llewdor--but that wasn't his home.

Alexander escapes Manannan's grasp and flees to Daventry, hoping he might find a place that he might call home after years of loss and loneliness. While Daventry embraces him, loves him, shows him all the stories it has within it, the country is also suffering under the worst winter in memory. But it might not just be a hard season: there might be something out there, something chasing the lost prince. Something malevolent, intent on destroying the kingdom snowflake by snowflake, spreading a curse across the lands and infecting its king.

(Or: I don't like how King's Quest 2015's Chapter 4 played out, so I've rewritten the whole thing to fit my headcanons and character desires.)

~*~*~

1/8

(1: Found Family)

~*~*~

Gwendolyn was smiling when she walked into his room, but Graham, after decades of being king, could tell when someone’s expression was false. It wasn’t especially hard in this case. He could see tears glittering in the corners of her eyes. She kept up the brave face right until the point when he spoke his first words to her that day: “Do you want to talk about it?”

She froze, one foot in the air. “Talk about...?” she said, with forced nonchalance.

“Whatever you like. But I think you have something specific on your mind.”

And that was all it took for her carefully drawn face to crumple.

“I just don’t get it. Everything seems to make Gart mad these days,” she said, sinking into the chair by the bed. “I can’t seem to do anything right. He keeps yelling at me.”

“Oh, is that what I heard this morning?” Graham tried to get her to smile with him, but she was looking away, twisting the strings of her hood through her fingers like a little net. “Sweetling, can you tell me what he’s yelling about?”

“I don’t wanna say,” she said, her face buried in her knees now as she drew herself up into a ball on the chair. Her voice was muffled. She looked like she was shrinking into herself, like she didn’t want to take up any space at all, like she wanted to hide. She looked so much like Alexander in that moment that Graham felt his breath catch: he could so easily see his son curled up in a corner of the ice cell, shivering and wanting to disappear, certain that he had led the kingdom to destruction just by existing.

"Here, now. Have I ever told you a story about your father?”

~*~*~*~

It was snowing both outside and inside Daventry castle.

Outside: that was perfectly normal. It was the end of the year, the lazy autumn finally reaching its end and the snows starting to build up. This was the first proper, heavy storm. Flakes pelted the windows, which were shuttered against the cold. Colorful tapestries had been drawn over the frames, darkening the corridors but keeping the place relatively cozy and comfortable despite the bone deep cold ache seeping out of the exterior stone walls. Wind whistled through the high crenellations, furiously whipping the flakes high against the towers before letting them fall gracefully into heaps that the royal guards would have to shovel out of the way later.

Inside: well, after eighteen years, that was kind of normal, too. Paperwork snowed up in its own sorts of drifts, covering the floor and audience chairs in the throne room. Paperwork that Graham had been ignoring.

He’d been doing okay. Eighteen years was a long time. Or, at least, so he told himself. The hole that Manannan had left when he’d ripped Alexander from his cradle eighteen years ago, stolen the prince of Daventry, leaving the taste of a broken lullaby on Graham’s lips—that hole never filled, but sometimes it was easier to ignore. If he didn’t think about it. And Graham had Rosella to take care of, his beautiful clever daughter, and Valanice to take care of him, his wise, confident wife, and he in turn cared for her, and for his country, to help the land and the people on it grow, tending to it just as the farmers tended the fields. Daventry needed him to be strong.

And he was strong. Mostly.

But, at the end of the year, when the seasons ticked over and the date changed with a finality and a clang...it all came rushing back. The sharp loss. The searches. The failures. Again and again, the failures. Eighteen years come and gone and nothing to show for them. The wizard had just vanished from the earth with his captive as far as the royal family could tell.

Somehow, at the end of every year, Graham’s arms felt weak, and his head ached, and his heart hurt. Even though Valanice understood, even though she held him close and they wept together for what they had lost, around them the demands of the kingdom kept endlessly pressing. After eighteen years, they had to finally accept that Alexander would never come home.

Rosella, his dear sweet princess daughter, carried them through the winter seasons. She learned closely from her tutors, always asking why the kingdom was doing something one way and not doing something another way. She had suitors to meet, plans to make. She, more than the council, more than the guards, more than anyone, seemed to keep Daventry on track when the year ended and the next year (the next year of failure) began. When Graham felt at a loss, overwhelmed (how could he lead a country when he couldn’t even protect his family), Rosella picked up some of the loss.

She had started attending council meetings too young. At first, it had been cute, even a little funny, to see her golden hair bobbing at the table. She had carried a stack of heavy addenda books to her chair herself so that she could sit on top of them and stare imperiously over the councilors. Graham hadn’t the heart to tell her to leave, and she made her attendance a habit. She started figuring processes out, and over the years she started to offer tolerable ideas, and then impressive ones. Sitting at council so young, so fanciful and creative, she was able to twist policy with fantasy with abandon. Without the careful thought that adults had to put into every sentence. It gave her wild confidence. Planted ideas in her head that Graham was mildly sure weren’t exactly princess-like.

But after all, the Cracker family was new to royalty. Who was to say what a Cracker Princess should be?

It wasn’t fair, perhaps, like it was taking away part of her childhood. But Rosella was determined to do what she wanted, and what she wanted was to be a part of Daventry in every single way like her father. Ruling and adventuring in almost the same breath. She went to council, and then she went tree climbing. And then she came to council the next day with her arm in a sling after daring to climb too high. Royal Guard Number One despaired, unable to keep her in check.

But this year was different. She would be turning eighteen soon. Eighteen was an important age. Eighteen was the age Graham had joined the royal knighthood of Daventry, found his path, changed his future.

Eighteen.

She was distracted, and understandably. She was going for walks more and more often out in the tangled forest paths. Sometimes the family came with her, especially in the springtime when the new year’s fear wore away and fresh life started poking out from the cold dirt. Although, her birthday (her twin Alexander’s birthday) was in the spring, and that brought its own pain.

She was probably on a walk somewhere now, Graham thought. He wandered through the sheaves of paperwork piled high as his nose in some places, flipping a sheet here, reading one there, sticking another in his cloak pocket for closer examination later. He wished he was with her too, with Valanice at his side, breathing that crisp Daventry winter chill.

He daydreamed about the route. The promise of hot chocolate and snowberry pie from Wente’s bakery, maybe a new order of cozy woolen socks and blankets from Acorn to stave off the chill, with a detour to Amaya’s warm smithy to sit by the forge and talk about the latest order of rust-resistant armor on order for the royal guards. And then, maybe, by himself, a longer turn by the old well, past the plaque commemorating a brave knight lost, listening to the crunch and crackle of snow under his boots. Just because. Just in case someone had returned to the underground caverns. A boy (a man, now) with hair as dark as Graham’s had been at that age.

He chased the thought away, settled down in his throne, skimmed another page without reading it, wondered if he could order another cup of cider or if Valanice would swat him for putting more sweets in his rounding tummy. She was here, too, somewhere in the hills of paperwork. It was Valanice who had insisted that they clear some of the work before the year end, who insisted they couldn’t sink into the usual sorrows. She herself had hauled the papers into the throne room rather than his office so that he couldn’t ignore them. She would give him a solid (albeit playful) smack if she caught him with one of Wente’s oversweetened ciders. Maybe later.

“Dad?”

Rosella was back from her walk. She had dragged in some boy with her, some scruffy teen half covered in frozen mud, with snowflakes melting in his hair. The lad was staring at the throne, at the crown on the pedestal nearby, at the magic mirror (fuzzy and dark these last eighteen years as though cursed, although Graham realized with a sudden start that the colors had returned to it sometime recently when he hadn’t been paying attention). The boy was swaying dizzily. He looked exhausted, poor thing. Graham stood, stuffing the addenda back in his cloak pocket. “Welcome, young man, to Daventry Castle.”

“Dad?” Rosella repeated. Her voice cracked.

Valanice’s head poked up from somewhere in the stacks, like a rabbit in a burrow. “Oh! You look dead on your feet, dear boy. Might we offer you some tea, or maybe even a blanket?” She struggled out of the snowdrifts of paper, dress catching on piles and pulling them after her in little avalanches.

“D-Dad?”

That one...that wasn’t Rosella speaking. That was...the boy. The scruffy filthy lost looking...eighteen-year-old boy...with raven black hair....

The smile froze on Graham’s lips, faded. His heart beat in his ears so hard that it hurt, that he couldn’t hear anything else. Couldn’t hear the paper sliding out of its heaps as he knocked it over in his haste to get by, couldn’t hear his footsteps pounding over the carpet, couldn’t hear the sudden burbling laughter pouring out of his own mouth, couldn’t hear Valanice’s shriek and scramble over the rustling, slippery sheets, couldn’t hear Rosella’s frantic explanation, couldn’t hear Alexander’s voice for the first time in eighteen years.

But he felt the boy in his arms as they went for an embrace. Valanice’s arms wrapped around his own as they gently, so gently, afraid of crushing the boy, afraid of frightening him away like a bird, like a ghost, like a dream, held him together.

Alexander squirmed under their grip after a few seconds, apparently not used to contact no matter how soft, and the family backed away, gave him space, let him breathe, and they all stared at each other, unable to think, unable to talk.

“I think...I’m back,” Alexander said, and then his knees buckled beneath him and he went down in a heap, and the whole family reached out and caught him, and everything was different and everything had changed, but the weather didn’t pay any attention, and the snow fell even harder, swirling into drifts and making the royal guards, as unaware as the weather, sigh and clutch their shovels.

~*~*~*~

Days whirled past relentlessly.

Questions, answers, suspicions. Joy, relief, apprehension, fear. No one knew quite what to do. This was unprecedented.

Graham and Valanice hovered anxiously over the boy as he regained his strength. They were impossible to tear away from his bedside, huddled together while the boy slept, fielding more questions from staff and citizens themselves than the boy himself answered. Valanice even took to strapping her old short sword around her hip as though she would have to take up some defense of him (from Manannan, or goblins in the night, or assassins, who could say?). But the more the color returned to the boy’s sallow cheeks the more he looked like his parents. The nervous whispers in the halls about imposters faded away.

“As though I wouldn’t know myself,” Valanice fretted, twirling the ends of her hair on her fingers. “Completely unfounded rumors.”

“Yes, but they don’t know you as well as I do,” Graham said, and he kissed the tip of her nose.

Once he was deemed well enough to talk, Alexander answered everything posed to him, though often without the detail they sought. He said where he had come from (Llewdor) and how he had gotten to Daventry (hidden amongst the crates and baskets of a pirate ship). He said what he had been made to do (keep house for the wizard), but he wouldn’t explain more, and no one wanted to push him.

Except on one detail, a detail that hovered over their heads like a black cloak. The most important detail.

“Will the wizard be coming back?” Royal Guard Number One pressed. He still remembered the attack, still remembered the violence. The fear of that night, and of all nights after.

“If he does, he’ll have a hard time doing much more than scratching,” the prince replied. And he didn’t (or maybe couldn’t) explain more than that. Not yet. No1 seemed frustrated, but a sharp glance from Graham made him subside, for now.

Alexander—sometimes he responded to his name, more often he didn’t, still used to that Gwydion name Manannan had forced on him—was quiet, and tried to take up as little space as possible. But he seemed to want to be helpful. As soon as he was allowed to leave his sickbed, he started searching for chores. He was often found outside trying to feed the chickens, and the servants had once caught him pawing through the broom closet looking for a bucket and mop.

“You don’t have to earn your place here,” Valanice told him gently. She reached out as though she wanted to sweep his unruly forelock, so like her husband’s bouncy curls, out of his eyes, but she held back when he flinched ever so slightly.

“Of course not, Ma’am—er, Mom. Still, though, do you think they need help sweeping the throne room?”

At his first presentation to the public, hastily gathered together as a means to silence rumors still floating around the kingdom, he stood uncomfortably next to his family, shifting awkwardly and blushing at the attention, candlelight glinting off his wary eyes. He ducked out at the first moment possible. No one saw him again for the rest of the night—he was good at finding little nooks and alcoves and burying himself in them, entirely out of sight.

Rosella, though, was determined. The Feys had brought Alexander hot chocolate during his days spent recovering from that terrible sea voyage, and while Alexander wouldn’t admit it, she could tell that he loved it. One chilly evening not long after the presentation, she invited Wente to the castle kitchens. She helped him mix up a fresh batch, getting melty chocolate chunks everywhere in the process (accompanied by No1’s barely muffled groans of annoyance when he walked past and saw chocolate halfway up the walls). She plonked two steaming mugs on a tray, covered them to keep them hot, and went in search of her brother.

Always searching, even after he’s been found.

As it happened, he was in his room.

It was a lovely room, near hers. It was always meant to be his, but it had sat sad and empty and dusty for eighteen years. They’d swept it, cleaned it, and let him have it as a blank canvas to do as he wished with. Which...he hadn’t done much. Guest rooms were richer with cozy decor than the crown prince’s room.

She knocked gently, pushed open the door, and found her brother kneeling on the floor by the bed, looking at something. He twisted to face her, shoving whatever it was behind him, yanked the bedspread down, smiled unevenly. Fear gleamed in his eyes. She leaned sideways, peering around him. A scarf trailed out from beneath the bed.

“Isn’t that the scarf Acorn made you?” she asked.

“Is what?” Alexander said with false cheerfulness. He kicked out behind him, and the scarf vanished under the bed.

“Are you hiding it? You don’t have to, I’ve seen it, it’s a nice one. He makes tons of them, says it helps him relax. You should wear it, it’ll be warm.” She put the tray on the (bare) desk and knelt beside him. She reached forward under the blanket, not actually bothering to look where she was reaching, and he made no move to stop her.

But instead of the scarf, her fingers felt something hard. A box? She gripped it, tugged it, but it was stuck, so she pulled harder. It popped free and caused an avalanche of clattering, rattling, dinging noises under the bed.

She glanced at Alexander, who now looked hopelessly guilty, and studied the box in her hands. It held a silver inkwell and quill, delicately engraved with looping vines. “Normally, people put these on their desk,” she said.

“Do they? I mean. Of course they do. Because they’re normal people. And I’m a normal person, too.”

Rosella pushed the blanket aside, revealing a veritable treasure trove. Gifts glittered in the candlelight, things the kingdom had cheerfully given to its lost prince. Welcome home cards, and cups, and papers, and embroidered pillows, and small tapestries, and hats and gloves, and a cloak, and an ornate dagger, and pressed flowers from warmer times, and other odds and ends that didn’t seem to have a use except in some esoteric way that only Alexander understood. His crown was under there, too, a slim golden circlet he was supposed to wear during official occasions but could otherwise be ignored. She dropped the blanket, hiding the inventory again.

Alexander was twisting his fingers together. “Please, don’t tell...I...”

Rosella took his hand in hers. It was cold. She pulled him so that he sat on the bed next to her, and then she pressed one of the hot chocolate mugs into his shaking fingers. Then, ever so carefully, she leaned against him. Lightly, so he could shrug away if he didn’t want her to touch him. He tensed, and then, just as carefully, leaned back, so that they propped each other up. The twins sipped their hot chocolate together. The torches in the hall snapped and popped, but otherwise the room was quiet.

Once the mugs were empty, Rosella said, “I can help you decorate, if you like. There’re some nice tapestries under there. It’ll be warmer in here with them up. If you don’t like the designs, I can help you swap them.”

Alexander didn’t say anything. He held his empty cup in both hands, swirling the dregs of chocolate.

She stuck her finger in the bottom of her own mug, dragged it through the remnants, and licked it away. Alexander shyly did the same, and then smiled. The first one she’d seen from him, she was sure. His eyes were still a little uneasy, a little guarded and suspicious, but he nodded. “I would like that. It does get a bit cold up here.”

“I think I saw a blanket from Acorn under there, too,” she said. “Maybe we could get that, if you want. It might be more comfortable in here with it.”

Alexander hesitated, then reached under the bed and pulled out the box with the inkwell in it. “And you can show me where to set this up? Like I’m supposed to, like a normal person.”

“Normal in this castle is relative,” she said, putting her hand on top of the box. “It can go anywhere you like. Which can include your desk.”

He thought about it, and then nodded. “That makes the most sense for it. On the desk. And. And, maybe...we can put out the pillows.” He swallowed and backtracked, glancing at the door as though expecting someone to be watching, judging, ready to take away his few treasures again. “Um. Tomorrow, maybe.”

“I think that would be a nice idea. Are you still okay with putting up tapestries tonight?”

“Um. Could...?” he stopped, looked down.

“Could?” she prompted.

“Could we have another hot chocolate, first, and then...you help me pick out the right ones?”

“Absolutely.”

[flautistsandpeonies]

The Demonic Innovator

Read the Previous Chapter [Here]

Word Length: 7,265

Summary: The war begins in earnest, and a new future is already being forged.

She arrived like a phoenix rising from the dead ashes of her execution pyre.

Nightless City sat high above the many cities and countrysides of Qishan, stood tall against many of the sects and civilian villages of China. The cultivators of the Wen Sect saw themselves above everyone, but in the end they were still human. As the enmity from the loss of the Pingyang region settled over her uncle’s army, she strode into his palace dressed in rags and covered in dirt.

“Uncle, “her calm voice reverberated across the grand throne room, “I’ve returned.”

“a-Qing, “Wen Ruohan raised a manicured hand toward her, face both curious and inquiring, “You’re alive.”

She clasps her dusty hands together, “I managed to avoid capture and went into hiding, “she says looking up through her lashes, “I’ve lost my supervisory office and all those under me, however.”

“I know, “Wen Ruohan narrows his eyes, temper rising at the mention of so many humiliating losses, “First Yiling and then Yangquan and Pingyang. Those ants really are getting in over their heads.”

“My supervisory office was destroyed by Wei WuXian, “she glares at a fake person

It’s easy to pretend to be angry at Wei WuXian. It’s easy when she’s seen her families cold dead bodies strewn across a dirty pass. It’s easy when she knows they’re currently still alive. It’s easy when one of the causes of her anger is sitting before her.

Would the cultivation world have slaughtered her family had this man not striven to be the ruler of them all?

“Wei WuXian, “her uncle’s red eyes narrow further and she spots rage behind his pupils, “He's the one who killed Chao-er.”

“Yes, “She says making a display of her clenching her fists, “He killed a-Ning and the others as well.”

She lets the animosity bloom in her eyes, a fire that can only be extinguished by righteous vengeance. Her family was her reason for living, even Wen Ruohan knows this. He knows this, and that’s how she knows that she’s gotten him right where she wants him.

An understanding light appears in Wen Ruohan’s gaze and he smiles, “A loss to be sure, “her uncle only ever saw her little brother as a hostage, “But he will be avenged.”

It’s almost hysterical at how much her uncle trusts her words, at how easily he believes her lies. But, then again, for what reason did he have to distrust her? She had always been his treasured niece, his relative who bent to his whims but never broke under the pressure of his merciless gaze. Of course she had his trust.

He orders that she be given new supplies and resources; it’s not the same amount from her supervisory office, but certainly enough to bankrupt a minor sect.

“a-Qing, “her uncle says, “Rest here for a while. I’ve some work to do before I can reclaim your office. Until then, I expect you to work on your theories.”

“Yes, uncle, “she says with the respectful bow she’s practiced for years now

She visits her cousin Wen Chang the next day under the pretense of mourning with relatives. Wen Ruohan knew how much her little brother and the rest of family meant to her, it would be far too suspicious if she didn’t take a few days out of the public sphere to seek out the only living relatives she had left.

“a-Qing, “her cousin calls to her in near tears, “You’re alive!”

She gathers Wen Chang in her arms. Holding them tight, she whispers and whispers and whispers. Her cousin freezes, still as stone as she talks on and on, but she knows that they won’t challenge what she had to say, knows her tolerance for nonsense and that she would never tell them a lie.

By the end of her account, Wen Chang is shaking a little, but they nod in understanding. They know what we have to do.

Her uncle may rule over them as high as the sun, but her family has a way of communicating through the dark corners of the city of lights, the only way to stay in contact, the only way to know they’re all safe. All it takes it her talking to her cousin for word to spread. The rest of her family knows by days end, but it takes at least a week for others, people too afraid to disobey her uncle, people who’s family wouldn’t last an hour under her uncle’s cruel hands to know:

“Shed the Sun, Embrace the Shadows of Yiling.”

It’s whispered between servants, between training disciples and doctors, between merchant and customer. As she sips her morning tea and dines over a simple breakfast of congee, eggs, and roasted peppers, she can’t help but wonder how her brother and Wei WuXian are doing.

It’s three weeks later that she tells her uncle of her want to reclaim Yiling, that a spy of his had noticed the resistance removing some of their forces from the area. Her uncle sends a sizeable battalion to reclaim the lost territory, and within a month they receive a missive that the rebellion had been squashed and that Yiling was once again under QishanWen’s control.

It’s only a little bit satisfying that her uncle doesn’t realize the letter is in her little brother’s handwriting.

She sends a couple of her cousins, builders by trade, to begin working on rebuilding their home. She sends with them the supplies her uncle gifted her.

“Uncle, “she walks into his throne room the next day, “I’ve something to share with you.”

“Oh, “he was as curious as he was enigmatic

Her uncle, she knew how to make him tick. She engages him in a conversation about her theories, in particular her Golden Core Transfer Theory. She intrigues him with the possible details of the procedure. It delights him, she realizes, that the person relinquishing their core experiences excruciating pain throughout the procedure.

He wants to use it as a torture technique. She tells him she at least wants to make sure the technique is fully plausible first least they’d waste precious spiritual energy.

In celebration for the reacquisition of her supervisory office, her uncle gifts her a grand carriage and ten battle horses. He presents her with enough ink, parchment, and medical supplies to tie her over for a year.

“Thank you, uncle, “she says, giving him the most respectful bow her body can offer

She returns to her cousin’s house after that. She is, after all, still grieving her relatives.

It’s another month later that she loads up the rest of her family and any person that “volunteered” to join her in Yiling and sends them in the direction of the poor region. No one in Nightless City thinks twice about how quickly the houses of all those people were emptied. Of course they wouldn’t, not when she was determined to get back to Yiling to work on her theories and build a cenotaph for her slaughtered family.

“I look forward to your progress, “her uncle tells her as she helps her pregnant cousin board the carriage

Wen Ruohan trusts that she will send him updates on her findings. She trusts that it will take him at least a month to find out about her deception.

It takes a day and half with no stops to reach Yiling. At the gates, a Nie disciple demands they removed their white and red robes, and they all acquiesce. It’s there, they hand off the supplies and horses gifted to her before being loaded onto covered wagons for the final trip to Yangquan.

A part of her is anxious on the next three days through woodland and mountain paths. Anxious that her uncle somehow saw through her ruse and she and her family would be slaughtered on the way to safety. But, her fears are squished as the time passes on and the only thing she hears and sees is birds and blue skies.

In Yangquan, Sect Leader Nie and Sect Leader Lan greet her at the gates of the war camps. There is a vicious smirk on Nie MingJue’s face, and she’d bet he’s imagining the look on her uncle’s face when he finally finds out she betrayed him. She wonders what it looks like as well.

“Wen-daifu, “Sect Leader Lan smiles in her direction, “We’re glad you’ve returned safely.”

“Thank you, Lan Zongzhu, “she nods, “A late congratulations is in order for your conquest of Pingyang.”

“In part thanks to you, “Lan XiChen continues, “If not for your and Young Master Wei’s advice it would’ve taken much longer.”

She nods, “For the time being, my uncle still believes that Yiling is under his control. I’ll leave you to deliberate the next course of action. I must see to the wounded; I’m certain I’ve some patients to heal.”

“Indeed, “Sect Leader Lan says, “We’re still trying to heal from Pingyang’s conquest. But, there will be a meeting for the Gangquan region in due time. We’ll need as many men up an running before then.”

“I understand, “she replies, “And one more thing. I’ve left a few of my cousins in Yiling, civilians, to help with some of the building there, “she tells them, “They’ll report to me when everything is done.”

Nie MingJue nods at her, “Understood.”

She departs from them after that. She leads her group through the Lan and Jiang camps. Some people glare, sneer, and spit in their direction. Some acknowledge them with simple nods of the head. In the end, they aren’t the people she’s dying to see.

At the perimeter of her own camp stands her a-Ning and Wei WuXian. Her little brother’s eyes light up as soon as they land on her.

“Jiejie, “he takes her into his arms as soon as she’s in within their reach

She takes a moment to feel his heartbeat and smiles to herself that he’s still alive.

“Wen Qing, “she looks over her brother’s shoulder to see Wei WuXian standing there with a smirk on his face

A couple of his fingers were covered in ink and there were slight bags under his eyes. In the three months she was gone he must’ve been working nights to make sure their plan stayed afloat and no one had any reason to malign them.

She was going to flick him on the forehead.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“a-Xian, “a small voice has Wei WuXian freezing just the tiniest bit

Looking up from his desk, Jiang Yanli stands in the doorway of his tent smiling at him with a basket on one arm and two covered pots in the crevice of the other.

“Jiang-guniang, “Wei WuXian says to her, putting down his brush and turning to give her his full attention

Jiang Yanli visibly flinches at his address of her, and it makes Wei WuXian feel the slightest bit callous, but he presses on.

“Are you in need of anything, Jiang-guniang?, “he asks tilting his head to the side

“No, a-Xian, “Yanli’s lip wobbles, “Shijie, please call me Shijie.”

He frowns at her, saying, “I’m afraid that I can’t do that anymore.”

Yanli feels the beginnings of tears swell in her eyes, “a-Xian....”

Wei WuXian watches as Jiang Yanli begins to tremble in the door way. She looks as if she wants to drop everything she has and either run towards him or away from him. Either is possible, but the last thing he needs is the Sunshot Soldiers gossiping about how he did something untoward to the Jiang heiress.

“Do you need anything of me?, “he asks once more

The young woman purses her lips and walks further into the tent, crossing over to the table in the middle of the dwelling. Placing her items down, she retrieves four bowls before taking the cloth off the basket entirely, revealing scallion pancakes.

“I wanted to have lunch with my a-Xian, “Yanli smiles tearfully at him, “If....if you aren’t too busy?”

Wei WuXian takes a moment to score over his paperwork, and Yanli does as well. She notices something that looks like a merchant’s contract, a couple of array designs she hasn’t seen before, and what looks to be a diagram of a compass.

“I should be able to work on a couple things and eat at the same time, if that’s alright with you, guniang, “Wei WuXian states shuffling through the papers

Yanli vigorously nods her head, “Yes, yes that’s fine a-Xian. I....I just want to talk with you.”

Taking a couple of nondescript parchments from his desk, Wei WuXian walks over while Yanli wipes at her eyes and sits.

“I managed to get these from our camp’s kitchen; I wanted to make something special for you, “Yanli smiles lifting the lids off the pots and steam blows into Wei WuXian’s face

Picking up a ladle, Yanli quickly spoons out two servings before covering the pots once more.

“I didn’t have the same amount of spices, but I hope you enjoy it, “Yanli says

A bowl of Lotus Root and Pork Rib Soup is pushed over to him with a bowl of rice and two pancakes.

“Eat up a-Xian, you look so thin, “Yanli smiles

He picks up his chopsticks and digs in, jamming rice into his mouth before throwing a piece of pork rib in after it. Seeing him eat without complaint, Yanli starts to eat as well.

Wei WuXian raises a hand, and, in a corner, a pitcher of water and two cups float over to them, surrounded by red energy. The container is tilted and fresh water is poured for the two of them.

“Apologizes, we don’t have any tea in my camp, “Wei WuXian says, taking a sip from his cup

It’s okay, “Yanli replies, sipping a spoonful of soup

While the two eat, Wei WuXian looks over a few of his papers, hmming as he summons a brush over and marks out a part of it. Yanli tries to sneakily see what he’s doing but the angle he has the paper at makes it unreadable for her. Forgoing her attempt, they eat in silence for a while longer.

“You have been distant, a-Xian, “Yanli starts, “I’m worried about you.”

Wei WuXian stuffs a pancake in his mouth as Yanli continues talking.

“You....you talk with everyone but the Jiang, “Yanli whispers, “I...did a-Cheng and I do something? Did someone in our camp do something? These months you seem to be getting along with everyone but us.”

Wei WuXian places his bowl of soup down, “Jiang-guniang, “he starts, “It’s not that I don’t want to talk with them, I’m usually so busy that don’t have that much free time. Most of the people I talk to come around my camp willingly. Most people in the Jiang camp stay away from here.”

Yanli nods in a solemn understanding, “a-Cheng is usually busy as well. Recently, he’s been having a bit of trouble with the new recruits.”

“Oh, “Wei WuXian raises a brow, “What seems to be the problem?”

“Well...there are some recruits that want to speak with you, “Yanli says, “They are interested in your cultivation. They want to know if it’s a Jiang secret.”

“Tell them that this path is my own creation, “Wei WuXian states, “No one else knows it; no one else may learn it.”

“I...can’t, “Yanli sighes, “These people, they say they won’t join the Jiang sect if they can’t learn your techniques.”

“Then I cannot help them, “Wei WuXian replies, “The Jiang Sect is a sect that uses spiritual energy. All their attacks require it, barring our martial arts. If they don’t want to learn that then they aren’t a good fit for the sect anyway.”

Yanli lowers her head, “I understand. I’ll tell a-Cheng, but he won’t be happy. There aren’t that many people lining up to join the Jiang these days.”

“Tell Jiang Zongzhu that quality is better than quantity, “Wei WuXian advises her, “I know that the two of you want the Jiang back to their former glory, but what use are disciples that cannot embody the sect’s teachings?”

Yanli brightens a bit at that, “I...suppose you’re right. I’ll see if that makes a-Cheng feel a bit better.” 

Yanli reaches for her ladle, “Would you like another serving, a-Xian?”

Wei WuXian nods, pushing his bowl forward, “I would. Thank you Jiang-guniang.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Lan WangJi was well aware that his uncle did not like Wei WuXian.

It was almost like a generational curse. It had started with CangSe SanRen, the first cultivator to journey down from Baoshan SanRen’s mountain after Yaling Daoren’s demise. Whatever had transpired between the two during their youth caused his uncle to have insurmountable distaste for people who carried silver eyes and mischievous smiles. It continued anew when Wei WuXian set foot in the Cloud Recesses, eleven years after his mother’s death. His uncle’s brows would furrow and his lips would turn down at the mere mention of the Jiang’s head disciple.

His face was like that now; Lan Qiren, having made the daring trek from Gusu to Yanquan and avoiding the many Wen encampments along his way was here to inform Lan XiChen of the happenings in their home region and to provide his own insights in the next war meeting. It had been four months since the conquest of Pingyang, and his uncle had just found out about Wei WuXian’s new cultivation.

“He’s an unscrupulous deviant, “Lan Qiren muttered over his cup of tea, gripping the porcelain so tight it might crack

They were seated in Lan XiChen’s tent. The three had just gone over the supply of resources that the Lan’s were saving for when they regained full control of Gusu once more and were able to rebuild their home. The conversation had shifted when the Lan elder questioned how Yangquan and Pingyang had been recaptured so quickly.

“It’s mostly in part to Young Master Wei and Wen-daifu, “Lan XiChen had explained, “Without them, I’m certain we’d still be fighting for Yangquan.”

“What does that boy have to do with any of this?, “Lan Qiren had asked

Lan XiChen had paused then, knowing exactly how his uncle saw the Jiang disciple and having a keen idea as to how he would react to what he was about to say.

“Well, “Lan XiChen began, “As you know, after the fall of Lotus Pier, Young Master Wei disappeared for some time. When he returned he left just as soon and then came back with Wen-daifu. Apparently in the month after WangJi found him, he and Wen-daifu had worked reconnaissance on the central and north west regions. Their intel has been invaluable.”

“In just a month, “Lan Qiren raised a brow, “How is that possible?”

Lan XiChen took a sip of tea, “Well....Young Master Wei seems to have invented the ability to hone resentful energy. He uses ghosts to be in multiple places at once and gather intel.”

At the mention of resentful energy, the Lan elder’s face had soured considerably, and that was how they had gotten to the conversation at hand.

“A reckless, arrogant, foolhardy reprobate that disregards the natural order of things, “Lan Qiren tugged on his beard so hard it looked like he might tear it off, “I should have done something about him back when he first mentioned the possibility!”

Lan WangJi was silent as he sipped awkwardly at his tea. His uncle continued on angrily articulating his distaste about the Jiang disciple. Lan XiChen too quietly sipped at his drink while their uncle’s diatribe went from the man’s time at the Cloud Recesses to the present time.

“Ahem, “a cough had all three of them looking towards the door

“Cousin Bai, “Lan XiChen smiled, “Is something the matter?”

Lan Bai had been standing guard outside, “The Second Young Master has a visitor., “they said lifting the tent’s flap

“For WangJi?, “XiChen raised a brow

To both Zewu-juns and the Light Bearing Lord’s surprise, Wei WuXian walked in the tent carrying a box.

“Wei Ying, “the Lan heir stood immediately, “What’s wrong?”

Wei WuXian raised a brow, “Nothing is wrong. I have something to give you.”

Lan Qiren’s face pinched as Wei WuXian walked closer to his nephew, “What are you up to?”

The Jiang cultivator didn’t honor him with a response, “Here, “Wei WuXian said, handing the box out to WangJi

Taking the small parcel, Lan WangJi saw what looked to be a compass, a flag, and two manuals. Looking up at Wei WuXian he raised his own brow slightly and the man clasped his hands behind his back.

“It’s something to help with your night-hunts, “Wei WuXian states, “Be sure to read those manuals before you use the tools.”

“Wei WuXian!, “Lan Qiren clenched his fists, “What...are...you...doing?”

“Your Second Young Master spends a lot of time night-hunting, “Wei WuXian turned to Lan Qiren with a blank look on his face, “These are to make his nights a bit easier.”

With that, Wei WuXian turned towards Lan XiChen, giving him a respectful bow before nodding at Lan Bai and walking out the way he came.

“WangJi, “Lan Qiren turned to his youngest nephew as soon as the tent’s flap was closed, “You should throw those into the fire.”

“Uncle, “WangJi says reaching into the box to pull out one of the manuals

The Stygian Lure Flag by Wei WuXian, it said on its black cover, red rope holding the entire thing together.

“It’s a night-hunting tool, “Lan XiChen comments walking a bit closer

The First Jade of Lan reached into the box and pulled out a flag, It was very large, the main part being the longest and the largest with four additional layers of fabric running alongside it.

“I’ve never seen these symbols before, “Lan XiChen says in slight awe, “Did he sew this himself?”

Lan Qiren looked over his nephew’s shoulder, examining the material with a keen eye. Memorizing every single detail of the device he swore to look up meanings about every single piece of needle work when he got the chance.

“Young Master Wei spends a lot of time in his camp when he’s not doing reconnaissance, “Lan XiChen runs his hands along the flag’s fabric, “So this is what he’s been up to.”

Lan WangJi sets the box on the table and takes the compass from the parcel. He examines the etchings, and the intricate design; there were many minor details thought would have taken a fine steady hands to imbue in the metal. Flipping it around, there was a cloud carved into the back of it with a guqin crossed over it. It must have taken hours to create.

“Will you use these WangJi?, “XiChen places the flag back in the box

Lan WangJi places the compass back in the box and contemplated. On one hand, it was strange for Wei WuXian, who often looked somewhat annoyed when Lan Wangji walked near him, to give him anything. But on the other hand, Lan WangJi was very elated that Wei WuXian had taken the time to not only make him something but took the time out of his schedule to deliver it to him personally.

“Will have to read the manuals first, “WangJi says, “But yes. I”ll test them out on my next hunt.”

Lan Qiren shakes his head, “It’s too dangerous to use something like this. You mustn’t go alone either. Who knows what’s going through that degenerate’s mind, “the Lan elder frowned

Lan XiChen sits back at the table, “I doubt Young Master Wei would intentionally put WangJi in danger. We are allies after all.”

“Did he not force WangJi to break our rules once before? I wouldn’t be surprised if he was trying to drag WangJi down with him. Using these items might make him susceptible to demonic energy, “Lan Qiren groused

Lan WangJi sat with his brother, “I will read, and if I feel endangered I will cleanse myself.”

Lan Qiren fixed his sleeve, “I still believe we should throw them into the fire.”

“It would be very rude, “XiChen shakes his head, “These obviously took a lot of time to create. To just throw them away would be a great slight against Young Master Wei.”

Lan Qiren sits down after, narrowing his eyes at the parcel, “I simply do not trust that boy’s intentions.”

“I will send a few disciples with WangJi during his next hunt, “XiChen smiles, picking up his now cold tea, “If they see anything amiss, they’ll have permission to destroy the items.”

“Very well, “Lan Qiren acquiesces and picks up his own cup of cold tea

...

If there was one thing Wei WuXian knew about the cultivation world was that their opinions changed with the wind. People who were once respected could be looked upon with scorn if the whims and wiles of the people were not satiated enough.

He knew that as long as he won every battle he entered, they wouldn’t decry him on his cultivation; in fact, they would even start to praise him for it.

And he knew that as soon as the war ended they would try and find a reason to subdue or destroy him.

He knew this very intimately, and so he hand to make changes here and there in how he worked and what he did during this war.

It was because of this that he was currently standing in the Unclean Realm’s throne room alongside the Second Jade of Lan. Around them, many of the sect leaders stared at him with the same respect and awe he garnered in his first life. They had been called here after Lan XiChen relayed his little brother’s last night-hunt to the Nie Sect Leader. It had gotten out to the other sects- Wei WuXian was suspecting Nie Huaisang-, and they had been called in for a meeting.

As Lan Wangji relayed his report from his night-hunt, he carefully watched all of the sect leaders reactions. Jin GuangShan- who had actually dined to attend this meeting- was lent forward eagerly absorbing the concise words of the Lan heir. Most of the minor sects were greedily listening as well.

“The tools do not cause any sort of disalignment in one’s qi, “Lan WangJi said with his head turned in his uncle’s direction, “I do plan on using them again.”

With that, the Light Bearing Lord finished and went to sit along side his brother and uncle. Wei WuXian was left alone standing in the center of the throne room.

“Wei WuXian, “Jin GuangShan said from his seat above him, “You really do enjoy making strides don’t you.”

Wei WuXian smiles then, despite it feeling like a knife was tearing through his face, “Jin Zongzhu is too kind.”

“No, no, “the man waves his fan around, “First creating an entire new cultivation from the ground up, and now you’re making tools?”

“Jiang Zongzhu, “the gold robed man turned to the young sect leader “I must say, despite not having many disciples, you have a diamond in the rough with you!”

Jiang WanYin spared a glance at Wei WuXian before replying, “I suppose so.”

“Wei WuXian!, “the Jiang cultivators turns to the Yao Sect Leader

“Zongzhu?, “the young man raised an inviting brow

“Tell us about your inventions, “the Yao Sect Leader waves his hand, “When did you come up with them?”

Wei WuXian clasped his hands behind himself, “The Stygian Lure Flag and Demon Wind Compass are ideas I’d thought up as a student at the Cloud Recesses. I’d only managed to find a bit of time to create them now.”

A few of the sect leaders made noises of understanding. The Yao Sect Leader spoke again.

“You must have plenty of free time, “said Sect Leader Yao

“Quite the contrary, “Wei WuXian’s smile widened, “I spend a lot of my time doing reconnaissance, I must also oversee the training our Wen defectors, manage my camp and accede to Jiang Zongzhu’s demands. My research must, unfortunately, take a back seat.”

“I wanted to ask you, “Nie MingJue interjects, “How is your report on Ganquan coming along?”

“It’s coming along well, “Wei WuXian nodded in his direction, “It’ll be ready for the meeting when you arrive in Yangquan.”

Nie MingJue nodded back in acknowledgement, “Very well.”

Wei WuXian looks back to the other sect leaders, “If that’ll be all. I need to rest for the night and then head back to my camp.”

“Yes, please, “Jin GuangShan smirks in the man’s direction, “We wouldn’t want to keep you. Who knows what those Wens are up to in your absence.”

Wei WuXian didn’t reply, but then Lan XiChen spoke, “Young Master Wei, before you go?"

“Lan Zongzhu?, “Wei WuXian turned

“You will need to be compensated for your research.”Lan XiChen started, “And you’ll need more materials to create more. Have you thought of a price for them yet?”

Wei WuXian grinned, “I have a material list waiting in my tent, I can have it sent over to you. I’ll have to think on a price for the items.”

Lan XiChen nodded and smiled, “Very well then, I won’t keep you any longer.”

“This one thanks you, “Wei WuXian gave a respectful bow before turning and saying, “Sect Leaders.”

The Jiang cultivator makes a quick stride out of the throne room, the chattering noises of the sect leaders fading out as the door closed and he started down the long stone halls to his guest room.

“Wei Ying, “the Jiang disciples turned to see the Lan heir quietly leaving the throne room

“Lan WangJi?, “Wei WuXian crossed his arms

The Second Jade of Lan walked a bit closer to the man, “I wanted to talk to you.”

Wei WuXian immediately narrowed his eyes, “About?”

Lan WangJi pursed his lips, “It’s about your cultivation.”

Wei WuXian scoffed and turned, about to walk away from the man when Lan Wangji jumped forward, grasping his wrist tightly.

“Just because your tools do no harm does not mean the energy running through you does not also, “WangJi says quickly

Wei WuXian grit his teeth, “Do you think I’m floundering around with no understanding of the things I’m dealing with?!"

Wei WuXian snatched his hand away, pushing the Lan cultivator away with the other. Lan WangJi tried to step forward again, but the Jiang cultivator quickly pulled out his dizi, placing it in between them.

“Second Young Master Lan, “Wei WuXian snarled at the Light Bearing Lord, “Let me be very clear. This will be the last time you come to me with this. Understand that I created this path. I know what I’m dealing with far better than you ever will.”

Lan WangJi took in a deep breath, “Wei Ying-”

“Goodnight, Second Young Master Lan, “Wei WuXian interrupted him before spinning around to walk down the hall again, his footsteps echoing into the night

...

It’s two days after their returned from the Unclean Realm that Wei WuXian takes a break. Lan WangJi learns this as the man once again showed up in his elder brother’s tent baring stacks of papers for his brother and saying he needed, “A couple hours of not drowning in papers and ink.”

Lan XiChen had agreed with him, usually also up to his neck in parchment before biding the young Jiang cultivator a good rest. It was a couple minutes after this that Lan XiChen demanded that his little brother rest from night-hunting and guarding the perimeter. Lan WangJi could only do what his elder brother had asked and spent the morning meditating in his own tent, and later went back to his brother’s tent to have lunch with him and his uncle.

It was a few hours after that the Second Jade of Lan decided to take a walk around the camps for a bit of fresh air and to clear his head. He passed through the Lan camp, earning a few respectful bows from both outer disciples and family before he ended up in the Jiang campground. Most of the people there did not differ to him and focused on their tasks or leisure, not sparing him a glance.

It is when he walks through the camp reserved for the various minor sects’ disciples and civilian soldiers that he hears a boisterous laughter. It is a sound that brings him back two years into the past. Taking a calming breath, he walks swiftly until he comes upon the creator of the sound.

Wei WuXian sits among many men around a fire, laughter and joy springing from their mouths. There are jars of alcohol being passed around.

“Wei WuXian, “a Nie disciple laughs, “You’re crazy!”

Wei WuXian smirks, “Crazy? Or am I just too much fun for you!”

The men holler at that, laughter echoing out into the night. Standing against the corner of a tent, Lan WangJi listens in as Wei WuXian regales many an interesting tales to the drunk men. They are all enraptured with the Jiang disciple as he spins them into a world of majesty.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough for one night, “the men let out cries of disgruntlement, “I have to go; no doubt more paperwork has built up on my desk, “Wei WuXian let out a dramatic huff to the laughter of the others present

The Jiang cultivator stood, brushing his knees off before making his way back to his camp. Lan WangJi almost made way to follow him, but stopped short when the other soldiers started to converse once more.

“That Wei WuXian is something else, “a Yao disciple throws their head back to take a swig of alcohol

“I know right. I’ve never seen such a busy body. If he’s not doing reconnaissance he’s running around his camp doing ten things at a time., “another lounges against the log

“I swear, the man barely takes a break. I know I don’t envy him, “a civilian soldier huffs

“Who needs breaks when you’ve got that Wen Qing in your camp, “the first Yao disciple

The group all made sounds of agreement. Everyone of them knew at least one person who’d had gone to see the Wen doctor in the past month.

“I heard her needles do wonders for the body, acupuncture and all that, “a Zhao disciple says reaching over for another jar of alcohol

“I wouldn’t mind a massage from her, “an Ouyang disciple whistles

“Hah! Like she’d touch you, “his friend mocked

“What if I said I got roughed up on the training field? She’d have no choice, doctor’s oath!, “the man waved his finger at him

“Wei WuXian gets to be so close to her, lucky. Too bad she’s Wen-dog, “a Nie disciple grunted

“Yep, no amount of beauty changes that, “another nodded, resting with his chin on his knees

“Wonder how Wei WuXian deals with that? Being around so many Wen-dogs instead of his own sect ,”another Zhao disciple wondered

“Hey, hey. Look Look, “Everyone turns around

The Yao disciple leaned forward, a conspiratory smile on his face.

“You think he likes Wen Qing?, “the man wagged his eyebrow

The group erupts in drunk, rowdy laughter. Lan WangJi clenches his fists to tight his knuckles crack.

“Think about it, “the Yao disciple laughs, “It’s possible. Didn’t he leave the Unclean Realm just to bring her here?”

“Can’t blame him. Have you seen the breasts on that woman, “a Rong disciple laughs, “Man, I can’t imagine what it’s like to have’em so close.”

“You think he’s sleeping with her?,  "an Ouyang disciple gasped dramatically

“I know I would be, “another civilian snorted

“Would you really sleep with a Wen-dog?, “a second looked at him with wide eyes

“Hey, I said I’d sleep with her, not that I’d marry her, “the man laughed

Another soldier leans in, snickering, “I heard from a Jiang disciple, “he raises his hand to his mouth whispering, “they’ve seen her entering his tent late at night. Definitely something going on there.”

“Lucky man. “the Rong disciple jeers, “At least he gets some type of compensation for looking over those Wen-dogs!”

Lan WangJi can’t bear to listen to anymore of their gossip and slanderous words and makes a hasty escape. His mind however is now disheveled.

Lan WangJi was not jealous of Wen Qing.

He was not jealous that during their one month together before their return to the Unclean Realm, Wen Qing seemed to have taught Wei WuXian the basics of medical cultivation.

He was not jealous that during her three month stint in Nightless City, Wei WuXian seemed to make a large effort to get to know the members of her clan’s branch.

He was not jealous that she and Wei WuXian seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time with one another. That they always seemed to be at one another’s sides when they were in their camp, whether tending to the wounded, eating with the other Wen defectors, or simply chatting.

He was not jealous that the woman could make him smile with just her presence. He was not upset that the simple mention of his flute or cultivation made Wei WuXian glare at him and then disappear from his sight for hours on end.

He was not jealous of Wen Qing.

He was not.

The sound of harmonious laughter startled the Second Jade of Lan out of his thoughts. At some point in his walk he had turned and made his way to the Wen encampment. The defectors were still bustling about, no doubt getting ready to serve dinner.

“Wen Qing!, “the familiar voice had Lan WangJi’s head snapping up

Wei WuXian stood at his tent, beckoning to the young woman not a long ways away.

“What Wei WuXian?, “Wen Qing said, mixing a salve in a porcelain bowl

“I need you, can you come here for a moment?, “Wei WuXian smiled at her

“Is it more important than what I’m currently doing?, “she asked pouring the salve into a larger bowl

“It involves bedding and thread counts, “was the only thing Wei WuXian said before crossing his arms with a smirk

Wen Qing rolled her eyes, beckoning a cousin over to get them to finish her task before walking over to Wei WuXian’s tent. Watching the woman slip into the tent and the flap close shut, Lan WangJi could feel his heart clenching within his chest. Breathing deeply, he had to force himself to turn away and make strides back to his own tent.

‘Wei Ying.’

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“There are four main forts in the Ganquan region. It’s mostly used as a place to store weaponry because the region’s land is too poor for farming. The first fort is under control of Wen Chin, they have 900 men under their command. The second is under control of Wen Cong, with 780 men. Third, Wen Fa with 568 men, and finally Wen Gang with 320 men. All the forts follow the same guard schedule with guards changing out every six hours.”

In the throne room of the Unclean Realm, the Sunshot Campaign’s Sect Leader’s along with high ranking members stood around a discussion table. The room was dead silent as Wei WuXian went over the intel he had gathered on their next targeted region.

“There is an opening to Wen Cong’s fort within its southwestern quarter. The stone work was done hastily and is being weathered away by storms. If someone where to go in at the dead of night, during the changing of the guards we could rush in the main gates while most are still asleep.”

Nie MingJue looked at the map the man had provided, “If we take Wen Cong’s fort, then Wen Gang is left without aid.”

“Yes, and Wen Fa and Wen Chin are so far apart that any missive can be intercepted by us, “Wei WuXian continued

The Jiang cultivator took a piece of cinnabar and circled Wen Chin’s fort, “Wen Chin has the most amount of high ranking cultivators stationed in Ganquan. They also have two different evacuation points planned out as opposed to the other three. It’s very possible that they may try to escape into the forest and return to Qishan if we don’t find a way to stop them.”

“The Yao could try and head them off, “Nie MingJue looks to the minor sect leader who nods, “If they stay behind and work on containing the perimeter it should be harder for them to escape.”

“Wei WuXian nods, “And our main force of attack? Should I prepare the Wens for battle?”

Lan XiChen stepped forward, shaking his head, “We want to wait a little while longer before introducing the Wens to battle. We were talking of waiting till we attack Yueyang to get them on the battlefield.”

Wei WuXian nods, “Then is someone to take my post as overseer while we’re gone?”

“Actually, “Nie MingJue replies, “We want you to stay here until we break down their defenses, and then you come in to finish them off.”

“You want to try a similar tactic to Pingyang then?, “Wei WuXian raises his brow

“Yes, “Nie MingJue says, “It’ll install fear in them, to not know if you’re going to show up.”

“I understand, “Wei WuXian smirks, “But what should I do in the meantime? Any reconnaissance I due is sure to change after the region is engaged in combat.”

“About that, “Lan XiChen interjects, “We’ve all been talking, Young Master Wei. We were wondering if you had any more research ideas?”

“I do, “the Jiang cultivator replies, “I was working on a communication array.”

“Communication array?, “Sect Leader Rong calls from their place at the table

Wei WuXian turns to them, “It’s dangerous for us to be traveling with so much land still belonging to Wen Ruohan, it’s easy for missives to be intercepted. If I managed to complete it, we’ll be able to communicate from the safety of our bases.”

“I won’t promise that we won’t have to call you in, so be ready to move at any time, “Nie MingJue warns him

“I’ll be ready, “the Jiang disciple replies, “By the way, should Wen Qing be moved closer to Ganquan?”

“No, “the Nie Sect Leader says, “It’s safer to keep her here. Tell her to prepare as many medicines as she’s able. We’ll ration them out before we go.”

“Understood, “Wei WuXian nods

Nie MingJue raised his hand and begins to engage the minor sects, gaining their input into their plan and ironing out any kinks that may show up in their discussion. The map is soon filled with lines, a points stationed out for the various soldiers who would be making the undertaking of Ganquan.

“Jiang Zongzhu, “the head disciple turns to Jiang WanYin, “Is this all acceptable for you? For me to stay behind.”

Jiang WanYin purses his lips, “I have enough soldiers to hold a line. I don’t need you.”

Wei WuXian smiles, “Very well., “and then faces the rest of the sect leaders, “Then I’ll wish you a successful siege.”

...

“It’s official. We won’t be heading to Gangquan; the sects want you stationed here and want me to keep researching, “Wei WuXian told Wen Qing over dinner the next night

“That’s good, “Wen Qing said, sipping on a spoonful of broth, “I would’ve thought we would have to come up with something more clever.”

“It’s the grace of having a Lan backup your findings, “Wei WuXian took a sip of tea, “They can’t lie about anything.”

The two overseers were alone in Wei WuXian’s tent, everyone else having retired for the night. A couple candles flickered around them, and crickets chittered outside around the tent.

“How are your cousins coming along with the building?, “WuXian asked, chewing a piece of carrot

“Their last letter said they were almost done with helping the Nie disciples turn the old supervisory office into a fort and they’ll start on the the first few houses soon, “Wen Qing replied, “It’ll still be a while before they can start on your manor.”

“I still don’t see why I need a manor, “Wei WuXian grunted, “Granny and the others could use that space more than me.”

“Will the sects take you seriously without a “proper” home, “Wen Qing asked rhetorically and Wei WuXian replied with a, “Right.”

The demonic cultivator placed his spoon on the table, “I’ll have to head to Yiling soon, start putting up some barriers. It’s too close to Qishan for my liking, and we haven’t reclaimed Yueyang yet.”

“Don’t forget to take a-Ning with you, “the Wen doctor ordered

“How could I ever forget my right hand man?, “Wei WuXian laughed, “I need him by my side more than ever.”

The two sat in silence for a moment, tending to their meager meals. After a while, Wei WuXian put his utensils and down and rested his head on his hand.

“Wei WuXian smirked, “Wen Qing, what do you think about wine?”

“I think your tolerance for it is inhuman, “she deadpanned and the man laughed

“Well then, how do you feel about being my business partner, “WuXian grinned harder, grabbing a bun from the middle of the table and biting down

“Aren’t I already your partner?, “Wen Qing raised a brow at him

Wei WuXian hummed.

“Indeed.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Author’s Notes:

-Part 3 down!

Read my Other Prompts & WIPs [Here]

[sithsecrets]

A Matter of Expediency - Part IX

After being married off to Kylo Ren in the name of securing an heir to the First Order’s throne, a princess tries to navigate the ins and outs of married life. As she grows closer to her new husband, the princess also carves out a place for herself in the Order, assuming control over her life when she thought she would have none.

---

Part 9

4.7k words

Mentions: swearing

---

The next several weeks of your life are a virtual continuum of meetings and planning sessions. You work both with the Board of Charitable Affairs and alone, studying poverty statistics, learning about various cultures, and deciding which locations and issues take precedence over other points of interest. It’s a lot of hard work, but you find satisfaction in your duties nonetheless. Every positive report and letter of gratitude that falls into your hands staves off feelings of burnout and discouragement, and after a month and a half, you feel like you’ve made a real difference in the lives of some of your underprivileged subjects. Even so, there’s still so much to be done, but you’re more than ready to rise to the occasion.

Other members of the Board are wowed by your dedication, and even some the Chairwoman’s cronies admit that your proposals have merit. Evan herself is still a thorn in your side, but mostly harmless. Her jabs are sly, and you know that she gossips about you behind your back. She’s furious that you’re doing so well, and it shows in every malicious remark. The Chairwoman could do nothing to spoil the work you love so much, and in any case, the friendships you’ve forged with your peers are fine buffers for her nastiness.

Overall, you feel more comfortable on the ship now. You know your way around for the most part, the strangers are less strange… The Supremacy feels like home, almost. You still miss sunshine and breathing real air, but you’re acclimating to this environment, to this life. People regard you with respect, and you think that most of them even like you— what more could you want?

Even your relationship with your husband has become a bit… smoother. The two of you have fallen into a routine together, and though you sometimes wish you saw Kylo more during the day, you’re still content to spend your evenings with him, to share his bed. He remains pleased with your charitable work, and you even caught him singing your praises to a group of officers once. Every compliment from Kylo, be it about your work, your appearance, or something else, never fails to make your pulse quicken, and you try to show him just as much kindness. Kylo isn’t free with his physical affection outside of the bedroom, but he does hold you each night as the two of you fall asleep, regardless of if you’ve had sex first or not. Though you yearn for a bit more affection in your marriage, this gesture does give you a bit of hope. You know that you’ve come to care deeply for Kylo, and you think (hope, pray) that he cares for you as well.

You find yourself mulling over the nature of you and your husband’s relationship frequently, plagued with worries about your connection. Truthfully, you wish you could see into the future so you could confirm for yourself whether or not you and Kylo will ever fall in love, but you have no such abilities. So, you’re left to wonder in silence, alone with your thoughts. You ponder the notion of simply being friends with the man you’re married to, of being cordial with the father of your children. The idea leaves a bad taste in your mouth, and you finally gather up the courage to voice your concerns to someone you think may be able to understand.

“Miriam,” you say one evening, eyes your attendant in the mirror as she brushes your hair. She is focused on her work, never looking up at you even as she speaks.

“Yes, Empress?”

“Have you ever worked for someone like me before?” you ask, immediately realizing how the question could be cause for confusion. “I mean, have you ever worked for someone who’s marriage was arranged?”

“Oh yes,” Miriam says at once, adjusting her stance as she works out a knot. “Many of the women I’ve served had their marriages arranged. Some of them never even laid eyes on their husbands before their wedding day.”

The mere notion of such circumstances makes you feel marginally luck, seeing that you got to meet Kylo more than once after your engagement. Not knowing what your husband looked like before you married him? Stars above…

You sit up a bit on your stool, hands fidgeting. “Did… Did it usually turn out okay?”

“Define ‘okay’,” Miriam says slowly, throwing you a curious look in the mirror now.

“Well… Did the couples usually end up caring for one another? As lovers do, I mean, and not just as partners or… or teammates.”

Miriam sets your brush down on the vanity in front of you, running her fingers through your hair absently as she decides what to do with it. “I’ve only seen one such marriage play out terribly, and I think it had more to do with their age difference and the husband’s proclivities than anything else. In every other case, at least in my experience, the couples ended up caring deeply for one another.” Miriam expression shifts to one of concern, and she sets her hands on your shoulders rather gently. “Why do you ask, my lady?”

You could dismiss Miriam, you know. You could tell her that you’re done talking, you could shut her down completely and demand that she dress you without saying anything more. But Miriam doesn’t deserve to be treated that way, and your heart is too raw for cruelty at the moment.

Miriam must take your hesitation to speak as an indicator of trouble, because she narrows her brow and asks, “Has everything been alright with the Supreme Leader, Empress?”

It’s a bold question, almost too bold, but you’re happy to know that Miriam feels safe enough with you to speak in such a fashion.

“No, no,” you say quickly, rushing to assure your attendant that you’re okay. Because you are, in the grand scheme of things— you’ve just been locked inside your head too much lately. “Kylo’s been wonderful. I just— I just hope that I have his heart, or that I’ll come to have it, eventually.”

You hate yourself for crying, swiping away the tear that rolls down your cheek as if it’s burning your skin. Miriam watches you do this, concern and sympathy written plainly on her face. She finally takes her hands off your shoulders, threading her fingers through your hair now. An outsider would think that she was simply sectioning off your hair for styling, but her touch is far too gentle against your scalp to be anything less than comforting.

“Does the Supreme Leader have your heart, Empress?” Miriam asks quietly.

You force yourself to swallow the lump in your throat, biting back more tears. As a result, your voice is nothing more than a strained whisper. “I think so.” Miriam’s eyes soften considerably, and she quits fussing with your hair. You bark out a laugh, though it’s a humorless one. “Isn’t that pathetic? “I’m in emotional turmoil because I have a crush on my husband.”

Your attendant replies, failing to acknowledge your self-deprecating remark. “Though I don’t profess to know his feelings, I do believe that the Supreme Leader cares for you,” Miriam states, making an actual effort to style your hair now. “He doesn’t parade you around like a trophy or a decoration, but he does like having you by his side when the two of you make appearances. And you’ve told me yourself that he’s proud of the work you’ve done for all of the Order’s charitable causes. Men who don’t care for their wives definitely don’t care about what their wives do, no matter how great their achievements.”

Miriam pauses to meet your eyes in the mirror, smiling warmly. You return to the gesture, already feeling a bit silly about your little crisis. Everything that Miriam’s said isn’t news to you— perhaps you just needed to hear it from someone who’s not involved the way you are.

“And,” your attendant adds, “if I may be so bold… his affection for you is written plainly on your skin.”

Your entire body floods with heat at this, and your face turns so red so fast that it’s almost unnatural. You know good and well what Miriam’s referring to, the love bites on your shoulder, the bitemark on your chest. Kylo called them “reminders” the first time he ever put such a thing on your body— they’re supposed to help you remember how beautiful he thinks you are. And though you like to think that the sentiment is something special, you downplay it now in front of Miriam now.

“He could do that to anyone,” you say, flustered. Miriam raises her eyebrows a little, casual.

“He could,” she concedes, “but he doesn’t. He marks you where only the two of you can see. It’s not a possessive action, not meant for the benefit of others.”

You quite like the sound of that, but your embarrassment prevents you from saying so. Miriam tucks one last pin into your hair, and then her hands are gripping your shoulders again.

“The Supreme Leader thinks much of you,” she declares, “both as a diplomat and as his wife.”

You nod at this, encouraged by the serious look in your attendant’s eyes. Miriam gives you the smallest of shakes, a gesture meant to punctuate her conviction. “Love will come,” she assures you, “I promise.”

Part of you wants to argue, wants to say “what if,” but you push every doubting remark back down your throat. Miriam is no great oracle, she can’t possibly know how everything’s going to play out, but you trust her immensely. She’s lived far more life than you have, and if she says that something’s going to happen, then it likely will. And in any case, Kylo is sweet to you, he does hold you and kiss you and call you his when the door is closed and the lights are low. So for now, you choose to be content with what you have.

“Love will come.”

---

The rest of your day is rife with meetings and political engagements, more so than usual. You receive countless ambassadors and visiting parties in the throne room, talking with each and every single person at length about their concerns and worries. Winter is fast approaching on some of the Order’s most underprivileged possessions, and many leaders from those planets and territories fear for their poor and sick. You sympathize with them immensely, but still, it’s been daunting to take each proposal and plan in turn. But thankfully that’s all done for now; the throne room sits empty, the corridor outside of it vacant and quiet.

The ship’s evening cycle is upon you, and you’re more than ready to retire to your chambers. A hot meal and a warm bath would do you good, you think, along with a change of clothes. Your shoes have been pinching your feet for hours, and you’re just sick of being covered in beading and embroidery and delicate little things that you have to treat gently. Draping yourself in beautiful clothes is always such fun, but all the fussiness of it does get old after a while.

Before you can make it back to your sanctuary, however, two stormtroopers come out of nowhere and inform you that your husband wants to speak with you at once. With a raging headache and aching feet, you want nothing more than to send the both of them away, to send Kylo a com letting him know that he can come to your quarters if he wishes to tell you something, but you do none of this. If Kylo’s asking for you directly, it must be urgent, so you let the two troopers lead you through the ship, praying all the while that nothing too awful has happened.

It’s cold in the hanger bay when you and the stormtroopers arrive, icy air biting at your skin through the fabric of your sleeves and bodice. Kylo awaits you near a small craft, flanked by the other Knights of Ren. Though they bow deeply and regard you with the proper respect you deserve, you can’t tell what any of them think of you, these strange, powerful men and women who serve Kylo so loyally. Honestly, they unsettle you quite a bit, all of them faceless and expressionless behind masks and helmets, constantly armed and armor-clad. You suppose other people are afraid of Kylo for the same reasons when they first meet him, but you’re of the opinion that the other Knights are just simply less approachable, less human than he is. Perhaps if you could just see their faces…

Turning away from the stares of the Knights, you give your husband a tired smile. “What’s the matter?” you ask, bracing yourself against the chill of the hanger as goosebumps pop up all along your arms.

“I just wanted to inform you that the Knights and I will be leaving for a few days,” Kylo declares, voice robotic through the vocoder in his helmet.

A wave of sadness washes over you, heavy and completely unexpected. You try to cover it quickly though, keenly aware of your audience.

“Now?” you ask, voice rather small.

Kylo nods curtly. “Yes.”

Suddenly, you hate his mask, you hate the fact that your husband’s face is covered. You wish you could see his expression, the look in his eyes, anything that would let you know what Kylo’s thinking.

“How long will you be gone?” you ask, shivering now. It really is cold in this damn hangar, and you aren’t draped in a cloak like everybody else.

“Two to four days,” Kylo answers. The stab in your chest is inexplicable, but it pains you nonetheless.

“I see,” you say, just because you feel like you ought to speak. You cast a look towards the Knights, eyeing their weapons and protective garments, and it suddenly dawns on you that they may be armed for battle. “Where exactly are you all going?”

Kylo is in no mood to be specific, it seems, simply telling that they’ll be doing some scouting in the Minor Possessions. This feels like a lie, but you don’t call him out, unwilling to accept the fact that Kylo could be injured or killed in the very near future. You wish desperately that the two of you were alone, that you could maybe have a moment with him before he leaves. He’ll never let you show him affection, not out in the open like this in front of subordinates, so you just nod, trying to paint on a smile to the best of your ability.

“Well, I hope you all return safely.” You take a small step forward, addressing your husband directly now. “Please be safe.”

Kylo doesn’t say anything for a moment, and though you still can’t see his face, you do think his voice is a bit gentler as he goes to speak. “We’ll be back very soon,” he assures you, and your heart jumps when he reaches out to stroke your arm for the briefest moment.

You smile one more time, watching sadly as your Kylo and his Knights file onto their vessel. They blast off into space without another word, leaving you to watch as their ship becomes but a speck on the inky expanse of stars before you.

It’s an upsetting turn of events, Kylo leaving, and you feel almost childish for not wanting him to go. If he and the Knights decided to leave so promptly, whatever they’re off to do must be important. And who are you to hinder your husband’s work? He never begs you to take a day off from your obligations, nor do you think he would stop you from doing whatever you felt was necessary. But… It’s just that you’ve had a long, grueling day, and you were so looking forward to crawling into Kylo arms at the end of the night.

Thankfully, Miriam’s already waiting for you when you arrive back to your rooms. You drag your feet all the way into the ‘fresher, scrubbing at your eyes with makeup remover as your attendant works to undress you and let down your hair. After you’re changed into more comfortable clothes, you dismiss Miriam for the evening, unable and unwilling to make small talk any longer.

Eating alone is just as depressing as you thought it would be, though getting into bed is even worse. You turn in early, of course, completely drained from all you’ve done today, but you find the bed far too big and far too cold without Kylo beside you.

Tossing and turning, you lie awake until the wee hours of the morning, finally passing out after it seems your body cannot stand to be awake any longer.

---

Kylo’s absence and your foul night’s sleep does nothing for your mood the next day, and you spend much of the morning agitated and snappy. It feels as though your meeting with the Board will never end, and what’s worse, the Chairwoman seems to be in a particularly bright, almost mischievous mood today. You’re sure her cheerful demeanor stems from something that happened this morning, likely an incident that involved her spatting on a custodian or kicking a small child as she walked by. In any case, her shrill laugh and wolfish grin only serve to sour your mood, and as the meeting wears on and on, you grow more and more inclined to have Evan’s tongue cut out on site. However, she’s left you alone for the most part, so you feel as though the action would be unwarranted.

Not ten seconds after this thought crosses your mind do you find yourself reconsidering your self-restraint.

“Oh, my lady!” the Chairwoman exclaims, turning her sharp little eyes your way. Malicious intent curls out of her mouth like smoke as she speaks, you can practically feel the jab coming. “I meant to ask you— where has the Supreme Leader run off to?”

Holding back the urge sigh deeply, you regard the Chairwoman evenly, saying, “A planet in the Minor Possessions.”

You’re being very fair, you think, indulging Evan with the truth even though your husband’s location is none of her business. But she’s seemingly unsatisfied with this, and there’s a glint in her eyes that you don’t like.

“Well, you certainly are a good wife, letting him jet out like that on a whim,” Evan sighs. You’re keenly aware that all eyes are on yourself and the Chairwoman, everyone no doubt waiting to see how this volley between the two of you will play out. “I know I’d be much less inclined to let my man go if I knew that he was going to be out unattended with whores about.”

Evan’s smile is so bright, and you know it must be painful for her to set her face in such a fashion. Her comment is obviously meant to bait you, and you hate that you have to bite the hook— what she’s said is too scandalous to be ignored, and you risk letting her win if you don’t cast your own line.

“The Knights are not whores, Evan, at least to my knowledge,” you say, deadpan, though you do let a sort of wry smile play on your lips as you regard the rest of the table. “Though I don’t profess to know what they do in their free time, nor do I care.”

The quip gets most of everyone chuckling along with you, and Evan’s feathers are ruffled. She sharpens her verbal sword, trying in earnest to draw blood with her words now. “Yes, that may be true, but there are rumors that say that more than one of the Supreme Leader’s Knights of a Ren is a bit… more than just a knight in his eyes.”

If you didn’t know her, this remark might upset you, might make you worried that someone else is sharing Kylo’s bed while he’s away from you. But this is the Chairwoman, and she is nothing but a vile, spiteful woman who wants to make you squirm simply because she enjoys making people upset. She’s so threatened by you, this cruel, bejeweled woman. It’s pathetic.

You lean on the smooth black table before you, chin cradled in one hand. “Chairwoman, may I ask you something?”

“Of course, my lady,” Evan replies readily. Oh, and she thinks she’s winning, you can tell by the glint in her eyes.

“Do you ever get tired of coming up with the drivel that constantly spews out of your mouth?”

Your foe looks as if she’s been slapped, that stupid grin finally melting off of her face. She’s overstepped herself and she knows it.

“I— I was simply making conversation, Empress,” Evan says quickly, letting out a light, nervous laugh.

“No you weren’t,” you scoff, shooting daggers right into the Chairwoman’s gray eyes as you cut her down to size. “You were trying to insinuate that my husband’s abandoned me here so he can fuck someone else in peace.”

The Chairwoman flushes, sitting up straight as a pin as she goes to dispute this. “I—”

“Oh, will you shut up?” you spit, cutting her off. “All you do is fucking talk and talk and talk! Sometimes I think I should just do everyone a favor and cut your tongue out myself.”

Right about now, Evan, her little lapdogs, and even the other members of the Board all look like they’re about to soil themselves. The only person who remains cool, calm, and collected is Hux, glaring at the Chairwoman from your side as you finish your little tirade.

“But I’m not going to do that because I’m a nice person.” You break into a sarcastic, mean grin as you say this, turning Evan’s favorite expression right back on her now. “I am, however, ending this fucking meeting. My head is pounding, and I’m sick of listening to you hold court at my expense. Get your work done somewhere else and be ready to impress me tomorrow.”

Nobody moves, not even when you say that the meeting’s over. They’ve never seen you like this, threatening and aggressive. Really, you don’t take any pleasure in acting this way, but enough is fucking enough.

“Go!” you snap. “All of you!”

Everyone is up like a shot now, including the Chairwoman, fleeing from the room as if it were on fire. You remain seated, watching on with disinterest and contempt, sparing a glare to anyone who isn’t moving fast enough for your liking. Within seconds, you and the Chancellor are the only ones left in the room.

“You can tell me if that was too harsh,” you say to Hux after a moment, feeling a bit sheepish about your outburst now that it’s over with. The Chairwoman absolutely got what she deserved, but you probably shouldn’t have dismissed the Board the way you did.

Hux shakes his head. “They’re you’re subordinates,” he tells you. “You can talk to them however you like. Personally, I think it was time someone reminded them who they’re dealing with.”

That makes you feel a bit better about the whole thing, but you shoot Hux a look, teasing. “You’re my subordinate, you know.”

Your friend rolls his eyes, rising from his chair as he drawls, “Have me drawn and quartered for my insolence, if you must.”

But then the Chancellor gives you one of his reserved little grins, offering you his arm, and you can’t help but smile back.

The both of you decide that it would be nice to dine privately, so you arrange to have your lunch brought to you and Kylo’s quarters. Hux jokes that the Chairwoman will be accusing you of adultery next time she wants to toy with you, and the two of you have a good laugh about that one. Anyone who could actually believe that you and Hux are having an affair is an absolute moron.

You give Hux a little tour of your quarters while the two of you wait for your meal to arrive, letting him duck into your closet and ‘fresher to kill time. It comes as a bit of surprise to you that the Chancellor’s never visited these rooms before you and Kylo married, but you suppose he had no reason to. And in any case, you’re sure that Kylo’s always been a private person�� he’s not partial to intimacy in general, and that goes double when it comes to conducting official business.

Hux is in the mood to chat, it would seem, tittering on about this and that as the two of you dig into your plates. You tell him about your abysmal night’s sleep, even going so far as to disclose that Kylo’s sudden departure upset you more than you’d like to admit. What with Hux’s usual no-nonsense demeanor, you’d been half expecting him to laugh at you for that; instead, he’s surprisingly sympathetic.

“It’s difficult to sleep without your lover,” your friend states, pushing some of his food around idly. “Some beds are just too big for one person.”

It’s only then that you notice how exhausted he looks, pale with dark circles stamped under his eyes. The vulnerability in Hux’s gaze is unmistakable when he sneaks a glance up at you, behaving as if he’s just told you something private, as if he’s made a confession. You assume that this is his very stiff, emotionally guarded version of opening up to you, and you feel rather touched that your friend has come to trust you in this way. Your first inclination is to press for details, to make Hux elaborate on what he’s just implied, but you know that he’d just clam up and refuse to speak about the matter ever again. So, you simply say that he’s right, eyeing your friend carefully as he nods and goes back to eating.

---

To say that you’re relieved as you crawl into bed that night would be an understatement. It’s been such a long day, and you want nothing more than to drift off to sleep and forget about everything for a little while. But like the Chacellor said earlier, your bed is too large and too cold without Kylo beside you, and you can’t make your thoughts stop racing. Your head is filled to the brim, images of the Chairwoman and Hux and your husband swirling together into a storm that chases sleep right out of the harbor of your mind. It’s infuriating, lying wide awake as your body screams for rest.

You find yourself tossing and turning, flinging yourself across the bed in every way possible in a vain attempt to make yourself comfortable. Still, nothing works, and after twenty minutes you’re about ready to burst into tears. The mere notion of getting another awful night’s sleep has you ready to throw a fit, and now more than ever do you wish that your husband was home holding you in his arms.

Kylo checked in with you earlier on the com, though your correspondence was quick. He told you that he and the Knights were doing fine and that the mission was going well, though he was vague on the details. You’d been reluctant to get off the line, happy to hear your husband’s voice, but then Kylo said it was time to make camp and that he had to go. Really, you would feel best if he were here with you, but hoping that he’s warm and safe will have to do for the night. Everyone is always telling you how tough Kylo is, but wish he didn’t have to be. It pains you to imagine him shivering, to think of him anticipating an attack even as he tries to rest…

Yes, you’d much rather have your husband next to you now.

Finally, after what feels like hours, your eyes grow heavy. Burrowing down under the comforter, you turn to face the pane of transperisteel on the far wall, drifting off with the stars glittering before you.