#marketing cloud pain points

[nyankochan]

Cloudcalling on the Savannah

Synopsis: It’s time for the yearly Cloud Calling Festival in the Sunset Savannah. It’s Leona’s first time home in years and there’s more than one reason why he’s avoided visiting.

Pairings: Leona Kingscholar x lioness!reader (she/her pronouns)

Content: fluff turn smut at the end, vanilla sex, virginity loss

Word Count: 4.2K

A/n: bonus points for catching all the Lion King references.

I headcannon that Leona speaks another language at home, like Swahili or something that he speaks when he doesn’t want people to understand his conversations.

15 years ago

Leona grunted in pain, trying not to bite his tongue as you pinned his frame to the mat. Even though you were way smaller than him, you managed to overpower him with ease and flip him on his backside.

“Pinned ya’,” you say with a toothy grin, your baby canines poking out cutely.

“Get offa me,” Leona grumbled, trying to push you off so that you wouldn’t see the ways his cheeks started warming from embarrassment, not even from losing but rather, your close proximity made him uncomfortable for some reason.

You gleefully let him go, Leona rubbing his shoulder that was now achy from the way your nails dug into them. “That’s two wins for me, and none for you~”you tease.

Leona growls and while you weren’t paying attention, lunges for you. The two of you tumble to the ground once more, but you swiftly manage to roll the two of you over. You sit on top of his chest, keeping his arms pinned to his side.

“Pinned ya again.”

Your hands feel warm against his. Your ears twitch slightly in excitement, something so small that most people don’t notice, yet Leona has developed a subtle knack for picking up the littlest things about you. From the way you style your bangs slightly to the left and how you prefer your meat grilled when the two of you visit Raintree Market. However, when it just comes to fighting, your senses outshine his. But with your mother being a renowned veteran amongst the Palace Guards, Leona believes you came out of the womb fighting.

“Tch whatever. I’m done.” Leona shoved you off, standing to leave the training room.

“Ehh? But I want to spar more! Isn’t it fun!?”

“No,” Leona answers flatly. “I’m gonna go take a nap.” Your ears flatten in disappointment.

“Boo you’re no fun.” Nonetheless, you follow the young prince along like a guard, yet you ramble away about anything and nothing at the same time, immune to his annoyance.

If Leona were to be honest, he found you highly annoying. The only reason why you two were forced to spend any time together was because of your parents. If he had it his way, he’d rather spend his day napping or perhaps playing chess. Nope. Because of you, he gets dragged along with your shenanigans most of the time, and he can’t say no without you running off crying to your mother or Neji scolding him about being nice.

You were a real thorn in his side.

“Heyyy Leona…Leona…Leona! Are you listening to me?”

“Not one bit,” Leona responded, making you huff in annoyance.

“You know what! When we get married, you’re gonna finally listen to me!” You suddenly proclaim, making Leona stop abruptly. More like, he ended up stumbling over his feet. You not paying attention walk right into him.

“Huh?! W-why in the world would I marry you!?” Leona yelled, trying not to stammer over his words due to the fact that he was so caught off guard by your statement. Marriage?! You two were 5. That kind of stuff was disgusting! He’s seen how his parents act and he wanted no part in it.

“Neji said we will,” You say as if it were the most obvious thing. “So, when that day comes you’re going to listen to me, Leona Kingscholar!”

Leona, despite his efforts, found himself grinning. Then laughing. You continue to huff and pout, not liking being made fun of.

“Sure,” Leona said in between laughs. “And when that day comes, I’m all ears.”

Present Day

Leona was annoyed, more than usual. He had just arrived home for the Bead Brawl and the Cloudcalling festival, and things weren’t already going to plan. Well, nothing had gone to plan from the moment Neji called and so graciously reminded him to come home this year, so he couldn’t skip out like he originally planned. Then, not even 10 minutes into arriving at Sunset Savannah, Jack suffers from heat stroke and they have to detour to Sunset Villa for him to get proper medical treatment.

While at the Villa, they find Kalim, who was a guest on behalf of the Scalding Sands Al-Asim family, to which Leona makes him a substitute on the team in lieu of Jack.

“Whatddya say, Kalim? Your ‘friends’ need your help?” Leona says, without a hint of sincerity.

“Leo having friends? Never would’ve seen the day.” The new voice makes Leona stiffen. Suddenly a pair of hands cover his eyes. Though his vision becomes obscured, he doesn’t have to look to know who the grating voice belonged to. “Guess who~”

“I despise guessing games,” Leona retorts.

“Boo~” The person lets him go. “You’re no fun.”

Leona sighs, rubbing his temple in annoyance. “I shouldn’t be surprised you’re here, Y/n. I’m sure your mother’s stationed here for the festival.”

It’s been maybe a couple years since he’d seen you. He actively avoids coming home for many reasons, her included. When he does come home for the holidays, he does everything he can to avoid you. In recent years, with your training for the palace guards, you’re too busy to even harass him.

Since the last time he saw you, you’ve slimmed out more and gained more muscle. The uniform doesn’t look baggy on you now. You’re still short as ever though.

“Neji told me you were finally coming home,” you say, somewhat coldly. A complete change from your earlier bubblier persona. “You enrolled in a prestigious school and now you’re too good for us back at home, huh? I can’t even get you to respond to a text nowadays.”

Leona rolled his eyes. “You still like picking fights over dumb stuff.” Now, he’s gathered an audience, his classmates staring in confusion and wonder at the lioness that suddenly appeared. “Everyone, this is Y/n L/n. She’s the daughter of the palace guard’s head commander. We grew up together.”

“It’s nice to meet Leo’s school friends,” you say, teasingly. Leona just clicks his tongue in annoyance while the Night Raven College students go around introducing themselves.

“Miss Y/n and Prince Leona are betrothed, set to be married by the time they’re 25,” Neji interjected. He gives Leona the side eye. “You’d best use proper titles when referring to your future bride.”

Hearing that Leona Kingscholar was engaged, set to marry in only a few short years surprised Grim, Yuu, Kalim, Vil and Lilia nonetheless. Even more strange, Leona and Y/n seemed more like annoyed roommates than what one would expect a future husband and wife to be.

After everyone gets changed into their liongarb (no one comments on the fact, though it’s noticeable, how the color of Leona’s clothing complements Y/n’s), the group goes down to the Raintree Market to explore some of the city.

You and Leona play tour guide, all while bickering between yourselves. If Leona suggested something that you didn’t agree with, you counter with your own. You also throw no shortage of sly comments Leona’s way whenever he complained about his brother, his leadership skills, or how the country would benefit to actually harvest their resources instead of leaving them be. Not that you didn’t agree, but if Leona were actually home more often, he could implement some of the good ideas you know he has.

It’s a mixture of uncomfortable and entertaining for Grim, Yuu, Kalim, Vil and Lilia.

“It’s hard to believe they’re actually going to be getting married,” Vil deadpanned. “It may be a good thing they aren’t taking the throne.”

They watch in amusement as Leona approaches what looks like some sort of kabob stand. You had been standing there staring wide eyed, mouth slightly agape with drool. Without asking, Leona bought two and gave them to you. Your face warms, and you mutter something along the lines of a thank you as you take the food.

“I don’t know,” Lilia laughs. “I think they have their own strange way of showing their affection.”

“Miss Y/n and Prince Leona may not look like it, but they’ve always been close,” Neji explains, watching the couple with an amused look. You tug on his sleeve, pointing at another stand while nibbling on the food he had just bought. Leona seemed to sigh, rolling his eyes as he lets you tug him along. “The L/n family has protected the royal family for generations. Prince Leona and Miss Y/n did in fact grow up together, but she was always trained to be able to protect him and his brother, Farena.”

“How did they end up being betrothed?” Yuu wonders.

“Prince Leona’s parents and Miss Y/n’s mother thought it would be a great way to unite the families. After all, why not if relations between the two have always been good?” Neji then sighs. “Unfortunately, those two have always had a knack for causing trouble. They both slack off on their duties, Prince Leona more so. However, Miss Y/n’s seemed to focused more on her duties as of late because it keeps her distracted from Leona’s absence.”

“Aw it sounds like she misses Leona-senpai,” Kalim commented.

“Though she never will admit it, it does bother Miss Y/n when he doesn’t come home,” Neji confirms. “She keeps a stubborn guard up, but I think she truly loves Prince Leona. As for Prince Leona-“

The influx of patrons makes the Raintree Market all the more crowded. Leona doesn’t even seem to realize what he does. He’s just being a gentleman (for once) in his eyes when he guides a hand at the small of your back to keep you close. His tail swishes back and forth, ears standing on alert while you order a dessert. You offer a spoonful of the custard treat to Leona, who boredly takes a bite.

Who would dare mess with the fiancée of the Prince of the Afterglow Savannah? Especially when he was around.

“He’s quite overprotective, you see,” Neji says. “Although Y/n’s trained her whole life to protect the royal family, I’m sure Leona would lay down his life to ensure her safety.”

~*~

At the end of the day, the Night Raven College team returns back to Sunset Villa after several practice rounds for the bean brawl where a feast had been prepared to welcome all of the esteemed guests. The current strategy Leona had come up with was to have Kalim as vanguard, Vil as the middle, and for Lilia to compete in the final bout as the anchor. Though practice went well, to say that he wasn’t worried still was an understatement.

“You look more annoyed than usual,” you say, plopping down beside him on the couch. “All your friends are enjoying the music and the barbecue and you’re sitting over here like a bug on a log.

“It’s nothing,” Leona responds, taking a bit of food off your plate. You huff in annoyance. You eye the stage where Kalim, Grim and Lilia joined dancing with the performers. You stand, putting your plate to the side.

“Come on.”

“Hah?”

“Come dance with me,” you say holding out your hand.

“What? No way,” Leona rolls his eyes.

“Please Leo? Humor me?”

At your plea, Leona sighs. He stands, grabs your arm and pulls you to a rather obscure corner where there aren’t many onlookers. You two were forced to practice this traditional dance so many times as kids, you both could do it in your sleep. Even though he may not look it, Leona is a great dance partner who guides your movements in tangent with the rhythm of the music.

“You really don’t want to do those lessons, don’t you,” you finally speak, switching to the native language of the Afterglow Savannah so that your conversation is relatively private. “Dragging along your classmates in this little scheme of yours. You can be a pain in the ass sometimes, ya know.”

“What can I say,” Leona answers back in the same language. “I don’t want to waste my time on something so pointless and boring.”

You roll your eyes as he whirls you around. Leona’s eyebrow quips when he notices something strange as your hair flutters up. Did you always have that scar on your collarbone? “If you actually did your job, then maybe we could see some real changes here. You sell your ideas short.”

“Doesn’t matter. In the end, I will never be king. And you will never be queen.” The way he says it, it’s almost like he’s disappointed. Sad he’d never be able to give you the title or the throne if married to him.

“I don’t care about being Queen,” you say quietly. “Things like that don’t bother me. I just want to stand with you as your equal.”

When the song concludes, the two you stare at each other for a beat too long before separating. A small audience, much to your embarrassment, had gathered to watch the two of you dance.

“Never thought I’d see the day where Leona would dance,” Vil mused.

“Ohh! You should join the pop music club!” Kalim excitedly suggested.

“What a great idea,” Lilia agreed. “The night’s just started! Let’s continue the party!”

“I’m surrounded by idiots.”Leona sighed, rubbing his temple, though only you picked up on it. You snicker under your breath. “We’re calling it a night. The tournament is early tomorrow and we all need our rest. So off to your rooms.”

Kalim and Lilia seem defeated, like kids told they couldn’t have dessert. Nonetheless you all disperse and start heading towards your own separate rooms.

“Y/n, where’s your room?” Leona asked. His classmates’ ears perk up at the sudden language switch. They didn’t know Leona was bilingual.

“Fourth floor. Why?”

“Come with me real quick to my room.”

Of course, as the second Prince of the Afterglow Savannah, Leona has a private suite that’s honestly like a mini apartment. His room overlooks the city which seems to glow as the sun sets. Though you’ve grown up here all your life, the sunset never ceases to amaze you.

“What did you need from me?” You ask, taking a seat on the king sized bed.

“That scar on your collarbone. That wasn’t there last time.”

You stiffen. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Leona clicked his tongue. “You think I was born yesterday?” He grabs the shawl you had been wearing and tore it from your grasp before you could protest. There it was, the deep scar that ran from your collarbone, disappearing down your shirt and creeping up part of your neck. Your hair usually covered it, but he thought he was imagining something when he saw it back at the dinner. “Gods Y/n…what did you do?”

“Why does it matter to you?” You snap back. “I got it a several months ago. You wouldn’t have come home anyway.”

“If you were hurt that bad of course I would have! Y/n, that’s not just a minor scratch. Now tell me what happened or I’ll find Neiji.”

You sigh. “It was just an accident during training. We were out in the Savannah on the cliffside and I fell trying to protect one of the other lionesses. I think I fell about twenty feet they said. Banged up pretty bad. It happened around your midterms time, so I opted not to bother you during your studies.”

Though you treat it like a lighthearted manner, you fractured several bones and cut yourself pretty deep on a jagged rock. It was just a freak accident. No fault on either party. But it did take months to recover and by the time Leona came home for winter break, you were out of a cast.

“It’s fine! You always tell me I’m more clumsy than a newborn gazelle, so don’t worry so much-“

Leona stares at you with an unreadable expression. But you can tell from his tenseness, that he’s pissed. He then suddenly pulls you into his chest.

“L-Leo?”

“Don’t hide stuff like that from me. In fact, no secrets period. I don’t care how small. Got it?”

“I…uh…mmh…” you bury your face into his chest, inhaling his scent. He smells like mango and cedar. “Leo…I missed you…”

“Yeah yeah…I missed ya too.”

Omake-sexual content ahead

“I should go back to my room,” you sigh. Leona’s scent was so comforting, if you weren’t careful you’d fall asleep.

“Just stay here,” Leona said nonchalantly.

“Eh? We can’t?!”

“Hah? Why not?” Leona seemed almost insulted. “We used to share beds all the time as kids.”

“B-but that’s different!” By now your face was feeling hot from embarrassment. Your ears twitching skittishly.

“You’re my fiancée, are you not?”

Now you scoff. “This coming from the same guy who at five complained about marrying me.”

“If I do recall,” Leona said, closing the proximity between you two. “You were the one so insistent about it, going as far to say I better listen to you when we do. Well, you got what you asked for,” Leona taunted, his breath ticking your neck, making you whimper quietly. His hands snake around your waist, pulling you closer against his chest, preventing any escape. “I’m all ears kitten. You gotta use your words and tell me what you want.”

“L-Leona, please…”

“Mmm? Please what?” He tilts your chin up, his piercing green eyes staring into yours. “You’ve been yapping and pissing me off all these years only for you to decide to be quiet the moment I decide to listen?”

The embarrassment’s too great, so defiantly, you bite your tongue and refuse to say anything. Leona grins at this. “Fine then.” He undos your belt, pushing you to the bed as he pulls your pants to your ankles. “I’ll get it out of you one way or another.”

Leona sheds his cloak and in one swoop, takes off his shirt. His muscles flex with each movement. Your face flushes. It’s not like you’ve never seen Leona without a shirt or anything. But was his body always this attractive?

Kissing him isn’t what you expected. He’s gentle, almost hesitant, when he cups your cheek to press his lips against yours. The tenderness is so endearing you miss the way his hands wander up your sides to grope at your breasts. You whimper quietly.

“My pretty fiancée,” Leona mumbles against your lips. “Your heart’s racin’. You nervous? I’ll stop if you want.”

“No… don’t,” you plea, keening into Leona’s touch.

Leona is surprisingly attentive to you, prioritizing your needs over his own pleasure. He sits back on his heels to slide your underwear down your legs (pocketing it for later). He could feel his dick twitch in his pants as he takes in the sight of your pretty pussy, dripping wet from arousal. With a tight grip on your thighs, Leona takes an experimental lick at your core. The first wave of pleasure shoots through you which has you trembling.

“Now, I can get used to this,” Leona grumbles. He eats you out aggressively, his tongue weaving through your folds. Actually if he were honest, it brings him great satisfaction in taking care of you. Perhaps maybe even turns him on a bit. He could feel himself getting hard just from your taste alone, his stiffening cock beginning to press uncomfortably against his boxers.

Your back arches off the bed. Your fingers find their way into his long hair which you pull roughly. A throaty growl resonates from the back of Leona's throat. You feel something else prod down there, soon realizing Leona inserted one of his slender fingers, moving it in tangent with his tongue to stretch you out further.

"W-wait. Please," you whimper. "M-my stomach feels weird." With a loud cry, you feel your orgasm wash over you. A gush of slick coats Leona's tongue. He greedily laps up your essence, savoring the taste of you. He delivers one last harsh suck on your clit before pulling back.

“Let me know if it hurts, m’kay? Leona almost sighs in relief as he finally releases his cock from the confines of his boxers. His stiff erection oozes pre from the tip and twitches in his hand as Leona gives himself a few slow pumps to ease the pain.

Your heart’s hammering in your chest, still coming down from your orgasm and the anticipation of Leona claiming you. He aligns himself at your entrance, leaning down to claim your lips in a kiss again. Leona groans, spreading your legs wider as he slowly inches his cock deeper into your cunt. You whimper, a little too loudly, making Leona quick to cover your mouth.

“If you don’t want any of my annoying classmates to hear, you might want to keep it down.” His hands fall back to your hips as he feels your walls squeeze snuggly around him. His mind feels hazy and it takes everything in him not to ram into you right then and there. “Fuck. I’m going to cum at this rate if you don’t relax f’me.”

You on the other hand, cover your flushed face with your hands. Your body trembles with pleasure, heart racing in your chest. It feels so good. And your stubbornness makes you hate to admit that. You want more but Leona makes no effort to move, just holding your legs around his hips. His finger gently and teasingly tracing your clit.

“Look at me, Y/n,” Leona pants. You shake your head, keeping your hands over your face. He clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Stop being difficult and look at-“ When he pulls your hands back, Leona’s shocked to see tears in your eyes. “Oi. Why didn’t you say anything if it hurt?!”

You shake your head mumbling, “I-it doesn’t hurt-“

Leona’s ears twitch. “Huh?”

Your face burns. “It doesn’t hurt! Fuck. Leona. Please!”

A laugh rumbles through Leona’s chest. “Tell me what you want, Y/n. Look me in the eyes when you do.”

His striking green eyes bore into your own, not taunting you like usual. Almost begging for you to say what he wants as his restraint wavers.

“Leona, please fuck me.”

Leona grins. “Whatever you say.”

Your breath hitches as he moves. Leona growls lowly, fighting the urge to fuck you hard and fast. He rocks his hips, slowly dragging his cock through your walls making your shiver. Maybe you’re just sensitive from your last orgasm, but his lax pace makes you feel every vein on his cock as he reaches your cervix.

“Fuck, this feels good,” Leona grunts. You just squeeze around him so snuggly. Your walls flutter each time he moves, bringing him closer and closer to his release. He truly didn’t want it to end too soon. Especially cause he wanted to draw another climax out of you.

“M-move faster please,” you gasp as he hits your cervix again making tears trickle down your cheeks. Leona is quick to wipe them away, peppering your face with kisses. Your hips involuntarily buck up to meet his, desperately searching for more relief.

“Next time. Next time I will. I don’t wanna…fuck, cum yet.” He pulls your legs over his waist so that he could hit deeper. Your breath hitches from the penetration.

"T-there! A-again!" You beg. You wrap your arms around Leona’s shoulders to hold him close. Capturing your lips again, Leona sucked hard on them in order to bruise, his canines grazing them. His thumb jabbed against your clit, providing additional stimulation that ultimately threw you over the edge.

You come with a low whine, nails digging into Leona’s shoulders. Your clit pulsated, feeling like it was still vibrating. Tingles raced through veins, rocking your entire body.

"F-fuck, I'm close!" Leona pants.

Leona felt his own high reaching. His thrusts became less rhythmic and more sloppy. Low grunts and moans left his lips. The feeling of You tightening around his dick even more was enough to send him over the edge.

He comes with a low groan, pulling out at the last second, painting your stomach with his seed. His body rocks and he collapses on top of you, burrying his head into the crook of your neck.

There's silence between the two of your for a few moments as you both recover from your orgasms. Leona’s first to move, grabbing a tissue to wipe you down and check to make sure you’re not hurt. Other than the darkening hickies on your neck and chest (which he’s proud of), the fucked out bliss expression on your face says you’re otherwise content.

He tucks you into his chest, tail winding around yours. You relax against him, your hips aching slightly.

“Leo…”

“Hn? Go to sleep,” Leona muttered.

“But it’s really important.” You shift so that you’re facing him. “So please listen to me?”

He sighs. “Okay. I’m all ears.”

You crane your head up so that you’re able to press a soft kiss against his lips. Leona blinks somewhat in surprise. “I love you,” you say, before sinking again into his arms.

You feel him press a kiss against your temple, and he squeezes you closer to him. His chest rumbles, almost like a purring cat that’s content. “I love you too.”

[incloudca]

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[xoxoxkisses]

Hanahaki

Muichiro x Reader Desc: the reader has hanahaki disease after experiencing one-sided love with the mist hashira. She decides to keep it a secret to not hurt her loved ones, except it hurts even worse in the end. Warnings: not proofread, angst ———————————————————————————————————— He didn’t like you back and it was slowly killing you on the inside, literally. You were diagnosed with Hanahaki Disease and it was killing you. Why can’t you just like me? You quit the corps when you found out the news. Your condition got worse day after day and it caused you to become weaker very fast. You wanted to keep it a secret, the fact you were dying. You didn’t need or want anyone’s pity. *Cough Cough*

You looked in your hands and counted three small white petals along with drops of blood. Your throat and chest burned with pain, but you were used to it. You took the petals in your hands and walked outside to the nearby stream. You liked to dump the petals into that stream because you found it calming to see them float away. ———————————————————————————————————— Your condition got worse. The petals became fully bloomed flowers. You coughed them up more frequently now, sometimes even throwing them up. Even though it hurts, it’s all for you

You had to run some errands so you went to the market. As you were picking up some fruit, you felt a familiar presence beside you. You looked over and saw Muichiro standing beside you, looking at you. “Oh, hey Muichiro.” He noticed how your voice sounded scratchy, and how pale you looked. You just looked..sick. “Hello Y/n.” He still looked as handsome as ever to you, maybe even better. You bowed to him. “It was nice to see you, but I must be going.” You paid for your fruit and began walking off. “Wait Y/n, can we talk?” You stopped and turned to him, and you shyly looked away and nodded your head. You both went to your estate. “So, what did you want to talk about?” He sighed and his usual blank stare turned into worry. “Y/n, we all know you’re sick. I just want to know what’s wrong with you.” You fiddled with your hands. “I-I don’t want to say..I kept it a secret to not worry you all.” “Y/n, your plan isn’t working you know?” You hesitated to answer him. You sighed and gave in. “I have Hanahaki Disease. I’m suffering for loving someone who doesn’t love me.” His eyes went wide. As soon as he was going to say something, you started coughing and out came multiple flowers. Muichiro recognized those flowers. They weren’t in bloom, yet he saw them in the stream a lot. As he looked back up to you, he noticed the blood coming from your mouth. “Y/n, you’re bleeding.” He took his sleeve and wiped it away. “Thanks. Since I cough so violently, it causes my throat to bleed.” Then you remembered the flowers. “Hey, can you help me dump these in the stream?” So it was you who they were coming from. “Yeah, of course.” The two of you picked up the flowers and went to the stream and dumped them. You watched as they floated away and a calm sense of serenity came over you. As you two were walking back, you broke the silence. “I don’t have much time left, maybe a month.” He looked at you with wide eyes. “What?!” You looked up and smiled at the clouds. “Just promise me you won’t tell the others.” He looked at you and nodded. ———————————————————————————————————— He came over almost everyday to check up on you. Your condition had reached its final stage. The flower roots were growing in your body. Since you could no longer move, Muichiro dumped your flowers into the stream. You were in pain, a lot of pain. It hurt to breathe, some points you couldn’t breathe. You were grateful he was there for you. Unfortunately, you knew your time was up. He hadn’t came over for a couple days since he was on a mission, but you wanted him at your side. You felt a pain in your lungs, and that’s when you realized the roots had pierced them. You couldn’t breathe anymore, and you accepted your fate, that you were about to die. Muichiro came back as soon as he was back from his mission. When he walked in, he sensed something was wrong. He rushed over to where you were, and when he got there he noticed you were gone. Flowers sprouted out of your skin, your body now covered in them. “No..this can’t be true.” He ran over to your side and realized you were long gone. He picked you up and held you to his chest. He cried, he hadn’t cried in months, he grew to really care about you. ———————————————————————————————————— Your funeral was beautiful. Everyone was there for you. They all felt guilty for not knowing what was wrong with you, but realized there was nothing they could do. They found out you had refused treatments and you were fine with passing. Except for him. He missed you dearly, he hadn’t realized it, but he loved you, but it was too late.

[breannasfluff]

Early Riser

AO3 Link

It’s five a.m. when the chain stumbles out of the portal. Well, actually it’s four minutes past five and counting seconds, but Time’s pretty sure no one cares about that. It was somewhere in the middle of the second watch when the portal appeared on the opposite side of their campsite.

Warriors, who was on watch, bore it with the grace of someone used to terrible hours in the army. Those that were woken up were in…less useful states. Wind was mostly asleep standing upright. Legend’s glare could light rain on fire and Hyrule’s arm around his waist might be the only thing restraining him.

Four drooped against Sky, who was also mostly asleep. Maybe he’s gained the ability to sleepwalk; Time wouldn’t put it past him. It takes him three slow blinks to claim the era. “We’re in Skyloft.”

Time doesn’t point out that this is obvious as the predawn light is lighting up the clouds. A cold wind bites at his fingertips; no wonder the chosen hero wears so many layers up here.

“Why is it so early?” Wild burrows into Twilight’s arms—ah, he’s trying to get into the wolf pelt. His successor isn’t magnanimous enough to give it up but wraps Wild up in his arms.

“Aren’t you made for early mornings?” Legend glares around Hyrule. “You’ve got a shit sleep schedule.”

“Just because it’s bad doesn’t mean it’s a choice.”

“Sleep, asshole!”

Time sighs and says, “Language, vet. I know it’s early.”

“Self-righteous piece of—”

“Legend!”

His only answer is a feral hiss. The vet is not pleasant without coffee in the morning. Time turns his attention back to Sky, who’s still staring blankly. “Where can we go this early?”

“The market—” a yawn interrupts him. “The market is setting up by now, so we can hang out there. Or we can try the Academy.”

“Which is closer?”

“Market.”

Time waves Sky forward, then leads the way when the hero doesn’t move. “Market it is for now.”

The cloth walls of the market block out the chill, although it’s still dim inside. They congregate in a corner, still yawning.

“Good morning! Oh, look at you all! Link! I’ve missed you!”

Time drags his attention to the approaching girl who has, frankly, far too much energy for this time of day.

“Hey, Zelda.” Sky yawns halfway through and slumps into her hug.

“Aww, who’s a sleepyhead?”

“It’s like, dawn. That’s when people sleep, Zelly.”

“Nonsense! This is the perfect time to get up and get going for the day! Smell that crisp air?” She takes a deep breath to demonstrate. “We just need to get you all moving, you’ll see.”

Legend’s moan is full of so much pain that Time whips around. Did he miss an injury? Did something happen after they landed?

The vet does look physically ill as he says, “Oh no, you’re a morning person!”

Hyrule pats his shoulder. “It’s okay, Legend. Remember, Sky has to deal with her forever.”

Zelda makes a face, then makes another when Sky only sighs sadly instead of defending her. He nuzzles her shoulder. “I’ll bear the burden. Learn to sleep through it.”

She steps back abruptly, letting Sky fall to the ground. “Well. Some of you don’t appreciate the benefits of a good morning.”

“Zelly! Why?” Sky rolls on the ground, arms wrapping around her ankle. “Do you have no pity for your hero?”

Legend steps forward, possibly deciding Sky needs backup. “It was the middle of the night when the portal came! Do you know what’s important? Sleep!”

“I like waking up early,” Twilight pipes up.

“Shut up!” No less than three glares are turned on him, and one from the champion still leaning into his fur.

Zelda senses an ally and zeroes in the rancher. “You get it, right?”

“Yeah. I help out on the ranch so there’s no late mornings for me.”

Wild, unwilling to be pulled into the discussion, leaves the protection of Twilight’s fur and barrels into Legend and Hyrule. They easily absorb him into their group and slump against each other.

Time watches the group drift around, blinking slowly. Zelda and Twilight’s conversation grows more animated and starts to pull in those heroes who are at least functioning. Good, they can take care of themselves.

Leaning against one of the tent poles, Time lets his eye slide half shut. It was the middle of the night when he got up. Safe in Skyloft, he can afford to be a little lax. Actually, the Academy has that great bathhouse. Maybe an early morning bath?

It’s too bad Malon isn’t here. Or if they had a bathhouse like that in their era. Large pools of water…steam from the fire…yes. Just the two of them alone. He could help her wash that beautiful red hair.

Time shuts his eye fully, losing himself to a drowsy fantasy of warm water, soft hands, and carefully detangling hair. Maybe he can rub her shoulders; Malon pushes herself too hard on the ranch.

After the bath they could get breakfast…maybe ride on a loftwing…

“Time!”

He jerks and whacks his head on the pole. Zelda is grinning at him. “You awake, hero?”

“I was thinking.”

“Mmm. With your eyes closed.”

“That’s the best way to think.”

She rolls her eyes, but gestures. “Come on, let's head up to the academy. You can either stay up a bit for breakfast or go back to sleep.”

The word sleep has the magic effect of motivating the other heroes to brave the chill morning air. They troop out of the market and up the hill to the Academy. Sky keeps Zelda tucked against his side; cape wrapped around her shoulders.

Time smiles to himself as he watches them. They aren’t like he was with Malon, but that’s okay. What they have is pure and sweet. When he first started courting Malon…well, he was a mess. It’s a miracle she put up with him, much less agreed to marry him.

“Good morning! Oh, Link, it’s good to see you! And friends! What a delightful surprise this morning!”

A booming voice breaks him out of his thoughts and inspires groans from the heroes.

Legend goes back to practicing his fire-setting skills through glares. “Of course, Zelda’s dad is a morning person, too. Sky, your kids are cursed.”

Silently, Time has to agree.

[daydreaming136]

Kili Durin x F!READER (Modern female)

Pairings: Kili x Reader slight Fili x Reader if you squint lol

Tags: modern reader female, isekai, waking up in the hobbit, death, romance, adventure, magic, dwarves, elves, everyone lives AU!, eventual smut,

Author notes: hi this is my first time writing for the hobbit hopefully someone will like it ❤️ please be kind in the comments and don’t be afraid to message me any questions ❤️

When I opened my eyes I saw a beautiful blue sky and the sun shining bright there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. I sat up suddenly there was a pain in my stomach I winced and hissed. I lifted my shirt to look for any injury and didn’t find any. Then I realized the pain went away, I blinked a few times and thought back about my day and how I got here. The day went on as usual woke up spent some time to myself, which includes coffee and some gaming. Got ready for work, shower, brushed teeth, a pair of jeans and a button down shirt, a pair of shoes which were dirty from working in them. I drove to work, clocked in, put my Home Depot apron on, got stabbed by some crazed customer, clocked out, drove home…wait what? Let me back up a bit. I got stabbed by some crazed customer?? I lifted my shirt up again but didn’t see a stab mark. I huffed and got up. “Did I die? Is this heaven?” I chuckled. “Well I didn’t think I’d end up in heaven.” I looked around but didn’t see a person or angel in sight. I looked for any sign of life and saw smoke a few miles away. “I guess I’ll start there.” I walked towards where the smoke was residing. I walked into a small village. I mean literally small because the people were small and everything in the village was small. The people reminded me of hobbits with their pointy ears and big hairy feet. I walked to what looked like a market place. I thought I saw Bilbo baggins from the hobbit at one point but decided to kept walking. Til I recognized a familiar gray pointy hat. I sped up my pace and grabbed the persons sleeve. “Excuse me.” Once the man turned around I immediately recognized the man. “Yes my lady?” I felt my eyes go wide from shock. “Um I-I…” my words died from my mouth as I looked at his face longer. Gandalf raised his brow, “are you alright my dear?” I blinked realizing I’ve been staring at him. “You’re Gandalf the grey, right?” He looked at me up and down, staring at me questioning. “Indeed I am, and you are?” I realized I was making a fool out of myself I shook my head and cleared my throat. “Mr. Gandalf my name is Y/N and i know I’m going to sound crazy but I believe I ended up in either The Hobbit or Lord Of The Rings. Please believe me when I say that I’m not trying to do any harm to you or Bilbo or Frodo or Thorin.” He stared at me hard then he started to smile. “Well my dear why don’t we walk and talk.” I nodded and began to walk beside him. “So let’s start from the beginning.” I swallowed and started my tale of the hobbit careful enough to not give anything important away. “Hm. Well I do believe you my lady for I just talked to Bilbo not too long ago.” I smiled. “Thank goodness. Please let me join you and the company to take back the lonely mountain, with my knowledge I can help.” He thought for a moment and nodded. “Alright. Let’s get you some supplies for the journey ahead.” We hit the market again getting me a bedroll and some feminine products I’ll need. Then he lead me to a familiar hole in the ground. “This is bilbos place isn’t it?” Gandalf nodded. “I need to do something for a bit wait for me here til I return.” I nodded. “Okay.” He began to walk away. “Oh and Y/N do stay out of trouble.” I chuckled. “You got it.”

Hours went by I ended up on the grass and took a nap. It was hard not to when the sun felt nice on my skin and the grass felt comfortable. I was startled awake by a shake to my shoulder. When I opened my eyes I was met with brown and blue eyes. “Miss why are you sleeping out here?” I blinked and sat up. “Oh sorry I must’ve dozed off waiting for Gandalf.”

“Gandalf? Are you the new member uncle was telling us?” I nodded. “Probably, Gandalf told me to wait here for him, are you heading to Mr. Baggins?” They nodded. “He should be here soon why don’t we head in while we wait?” I bit my lip and nodded. “Okay I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m Y/N by the way.”

“I’m Fili and this is my brother Kili.” I nodded to Kili noticing him not saying anything. The three of us walked toward Bilbos home. Fili rang the doorbell. And we waited for the hobbit to open the door. Bilbo opened the door. Bilbo whimpered when he saw the three of us. “Fili.” Fili introduced himself “Kili.” Kili finally spoke. “And Y/N.” I introduced myself. The two dwarves bowed their heads. “At your service.” I nodded towards Bilbo. “You must be Mr. Boggins.”

“Nope! You can’t come in. You’ve come to the wrong house.” Bilbo went to close the door but Kili stopped him. “What? Has it been canceled?” The door was pushed back open a bit. “No one told us.” Fili walking close behind his brother. “No, nothings been canceled.” Bilbo said confused about what the dwarves were implying. “That’s a relief.” Kili pushed the door open more and walked in Fili and I followed after. “Sorry Mr. Baggins.”I say give him a sympathetic look. I could tell he was already getting frustrated. “Careful with these. I just had ‘em sharpened.” Fili began to take off his weapons. I walked in looking around the hobbits home. “The movies really didn’t do this place justice.” I muttered under my breath. Kili walking around. “It’s nice, this place. Did you do it yourself?” Kili asked. Without Bilbo paying attention Kili began to take the mud off his shoes on Bilbos mother’s chest. I bit the inside of my cheek wanting to tell him not to do that because it is Bilbos mother’s chest. “What? No, it’s been in the family for years.” Bilbo finally realized what Kili was doing. “That’s my mother’s glory box! Can you please not do that?” Bilbo was angry. Then Dwalin walked in and grabbing Kili’s shoulder leading him farther in the house. “Fili, Kili. Come on. Give us a hand.” All of us walked into what looked like a dining room. “Let’s shove this in the hallway, otherwise we’ll never get everyone in.” Bilbo stammered. “Everyone? How many more are there?” I grabbed Fili’s weapons. “Here I’ll take these Mr. Baggins.”

“Th-thank you. Do you know what’s going on.” I smiled slyly and put Fili’s weapons somewhere out of the way. Suddenly the doorbell rang again. Bilbo feeling very frustrated walked towards the door. “Oh, no. No. No. There’s nobody home! Go away and bother somebody else! There’s far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is. If this is some clot-heads idea of a joke…ha! Ha! I can only say it is in poor taste.” He opened the door I could hear the dwarves falling on the floor in the entrance of the hobbits home. I followed after Bilbo. Seeing the dwarves on the floor I giggled watching them grunt and groan. “Ah. There you are my lady I thought I told you to stay put.” I smiled. “Sorry I ran into Fili and Kili they said you would be here soon and well here you are.” Bilbo looked at Gandalf. “Gandalf.”

Soon everyone was in the dining room they were passing ales and food. Having a grand old time, I ate a bit myself. I grabbed a jug of ale and took a few gulps. I giggled some more seeing poor Bilbo tell the dwarves to put his food back from his pantry. Food was going left and right the dwarves drinking and eating. “Ale! Going one, two, three!” They were all chugging their drinks. A few letting out some burps. I laughed amongst them. Once they all finished eating they began to clean up I joined in obviously. “‘Scuse me but where do I put my plate?” Ori asked Bilbo. Fili walked up grabbing the plate from him. “Here you go, ori. Give it to me.” He tossed it to Kili who caught it without a problem and tossing it to Bifur. They were tossing all the dishes to get cleaned. I heard the dwarves clatter the silverware. “And can—can you not do that? You’ll blunt them.”

“Ooh, do you hear that, lads? He says we’ll blunt the knives.” They began to bang their shoes amongst the floor, making a beat. “ Blunt the knives, bend the forks.” Kili began to sing. “Smash the bottles and burn the corks.” Fili followed. “Chip the glasses and crack the plates.”

“That’s what Bilbo baggins hates!” They all sang together. I danced a bit to their song. “Cut the cloth tread on the fat. Leave the bones on the bedroom mat. Pour the milk on the pantry floor. Smash the wine on every door. Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl. Pound them up with a thumping pole. When you’re finished, if they are whole. Send them down the hall to roll. That’s what Bilbo baggins hates!” They all laughed after the song was finished. Suddenly there was a loud banging on the door everyone quieted down. I looked at Gandalf. “He is here.” Bilbo and Gandalf walked to the door, I followed them. Gandalf opened the door for Thorin. “Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way. Twice. I wouldn’t have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.”

“Mark? There’s no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago.” Gandalf closed the door after Thorin walked in. “There is a mark. I put it there myself. Bilbo Baggins. Y/N. Allow me to introduce the leader of our company: Thorin Oakenshield.” I bowed my head a bit to be polite. “So..this is the hobbit and Gandalfs assistant. Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?” Thorin circled Bilbo. “Pardon me?”

“Axe or sword? What’s your weapon of choice?”

“Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know.” I crinkled a bit. “But I fail to see why that’s relevant.”

“I thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.” The dwarves laughed at Thorins comment. I felt a little sympathy for Bilbo. The dwarves all walked to the dining room it was just Bilbo, Gandalf, and I. “Your assistant aye.” I crossed my arms under my chest. Gandalf smiled. “Well I couldn’t just tell them you’re from another world now could I.” I nodded. “Alright, I guess it could work for now.”

I sat next to Fili and Kili at the dining table. “What need from the meeting in Ered Luin?” Balin asked Thorin. “Did they all come?”

“Aye. Envoys from all seven kingdoms.”

“And what did the dwarves of the iron hills say? Is Dain with us?” Dwalin asked. “They will not come.” Thorin answered.

“They say this quest is ours and ours alone.”

“You’re going on a quest?” Bilbo asked standing behind Gandalf. “Y/N, help my dear fellow Bilbo, let us have a little more light.” I nodded helping Bilbo bring some candles out. “Far to the east…over ranges and rivers… beyond woodlands and wastelands… lies a single, solitary peak.”

“The lonely mountain.”

“Aye, Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time!” Glóin said. “Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain, as it was foretold. When the birds of yore return to erebor, the reign of the beast will end.”

“What beast?” Bilbo asked curiously. “That would be a reference to Smaug the terrible. Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire breather. Teeth like razors. Claws like meat hooks. Extremely fond of precious metals.” Bofur described Smaug. “Yes, I know what a dragon is.” Suddenly Oir stood up. “I’m not afraid. I’m up for it. I’ll give him a taste of dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!”

“Good lad, Ori!” Nori cheered on the dwarf. “Sit down.” Dori told him. “The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us..but we number in just 16. And not 16 of the best…nor brightest.” That gave a bit of commotion. “We may be few in number… but we’re fighters. All of us! To the last dwarf.” Fili cheered on. “And you forget, we have a wizard in our company along with his assistant. Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time.” I bit back a laugh. “Oh, well, no. I-I-I wouldn’t say—,”

“How many, then?” Dori asked. “What?”

“How many dragons have you killed?” All the dwarves looked at Gandalf as he choked on his smoke. “Go on. Give us a number.” I watched as they fought amongst themselves. I pushed myself against the wall. “Uh, excuse me. Please.” Bilbo tried to talk to the dwarves when Thorin spoke up. “No more!” They all went silent. “If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for 60 years. Eyes look west to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast of our wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back erebor?!” They all cheer til Balin cuts in. “You forget: the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain.”

“That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true.” Gandalf brought out a key showing it to the dwarves. “How came you by this?” Thorin asked. “It was given to me by your father. By Thrain. For safekeeping. It is yours now.” Gandalf handed Thorin the key. “If there is a key…there must be a door.” Fili thought out loud. Gandalf showed them the writing on the map. “These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls.”

“There’s another way in.” Kili spoke happily. “Well, if we can find it, but dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map, and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in middle earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage. But if we are careful and clever, I believer that it can be done.”

“That’s why we need a burglar.” Ori concluded. “Hmm. And a good one too.” All eyes were on Bilbo. “An expert, I’d imagine.”

“And are you?” Glóin asked. Bilbo looked around realizing that he asked him. “Am I what?”

“He said he’s an expert! Hey!”

“Me? No. No, no. I’m not a burglar. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.”

“Well, I’m afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He’s hardly burglar material.” Balin replied.

“Aye, the wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.” Dwalin looked at bilbo and I. I felt a little offended. “C’mon Dwalin they’ll manage just fine.” Bilbo agreed what the dwarf said while I bit my tongue holding back insults. The dwarves talked amongst themselves. Then Gandalf made the house grow dark. Gandalf stood as tall as he could in the small hobbits house and in a loud and scary voice, “Enough! If I say Bilbo baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is. And you will talk to my assistant with more respect. Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most, if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of a hobbit is all but unknown to him. My assistant here also has some insight about our quest which will be useful in taking back the lonely mountain. Smaug will not see us coming. You asked me to find the 14th member of this company, and I have found 2. There’s a lot more to them than appearances suggest. And they both got a great deal more to offer than any of you know. Including themselves.” I could tell he was mainly talking to Bilbo. “You must trust me on this.” Gandalf finished. Thorin seemed to take Gandalfs words seriously. “Very well. We will do it your way.” Bilbo doesn’t seem convinced though. “No.no.”

“Give them the contract.” Thorin looked at Balin. Balin took out a folded paper and handed it to Bilbo. “It’s just the usual. Summary of out of pocket expenses…time required, remuneration…funeral arrangements, so forth.” Bilbo seemed stunned by the words ‘funeral arrangements.’

“Funeral arrangements?” I placed my hand on bilbos shoulder, “it’ll be alright.” He opened the folded contract. Bilbo walked off to read the contract. Thorin leaned close to Gandalf talking about something important no doubt. “Terms: cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding 1/14th of total profit, if any. Seems fair. Present company shall not be liable for any injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof, including, but not limited to lacerations…evisceration…incineration?” I giggled a bit at bilbos reaction. “Oh, aye. He’ll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye.” Bilbo seemed to pause at that. All the dwarves took notice, “are you all right, laddie?” Balin asked the small hobbit. Bilbo put his hands on his knees,” yeah.” Bilbo seemed to try to process this, taking a few deep breaths. “Feel a bit faint.” I felt a bit sympathetic for poor Bilbo besides knowing he’ll be alright. “Bilbo?” I asked concerned for the hobbit, but it seems another dwarf had other intentions. “Think furnace with wings.” Bofur got up from his seat. I looked at the dwarf with eyes to plead to him to stop. “Air. I-I-I need air.” Bilbo looked like he was going to get sick. “Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! You’re nothing more than a pile of ash.” I bit my lip watching the scene play out. Bilbo tried his best to keep calm and to not faint, but he failed. “Nope.” And he went down. I closed my eyes and sighed, “now you’ve done it. Good going Bofur.” I put my hands on my hips. “Oh, very helpful, Bofur.” Gandalf sarcastically said. I grabbed the contract picked up a quill and signed my name, handing it to Balin. “There you go.” Balin looked at the signature. “Welcome to the company, my lady.” I bowed my head and he did the same. The company helped poor Bilbo up and onto his comfy armchair. He was well awake and holding a cup of tea. “I’ll be all right. Just let me sit quietly for a moment.” Gandalf smoking his pipe seemed to get angry at the small hobbit. “You’ve been sitting quietly for far too long. Tell me, when did doilies and your mother’s dishes become so important to you?” Remembering this moment I decided to leave Gandalf and Bilbo to their conversation joining the dwarves in the other room. Fili and Kili walked up to me,” is Mr. Boggins all right?” I nodded. “Yes but he and Gandalf are having a serious conversation so I’d wait if you want to talk to him.” Kili nodded. “Do you think he’ll come?”

“No way brother, Mr. Boggins is way too comfortable here.” Fili responded. “I think he’ll come.” I smiled a little. “Why did you not faint, don’t dragons scare you?” Kili asked, I chuckled a bit, “of course they do but I also think dragons are cool. Seeing one up close sure would be a story to tell one day, that’s if I make it.” I know the story of them but what of me technically I died who knows what’ll happen to me here. “Cool? Dragons are not cool, remember what Bofur said. Furnace with wings.” Fili reminded me, I laughed. “Yes, yes. I remember I just meant they’re majestic, and also terrifying.” I have to remind myself that ‘cool’ isn’t a normal slang term in this world. In that moment Bilbo was walking past us going to what I believe is his bedroom. Kili and Fili suddenly left me to join the other dwarves in the living room. I began to hear humming and singing from the living room, remembering Thorin singing the misty mountain. I sat outside of the room listening to the beautiful sound but also hearing the mournful sound in Thorins voice. I vowed to myself I’ll make sure the durin line will survive once we arrived at the lonely mountain. Leaving my place in the hobbits home I walked outside took a place near the entrance of the hobbits home and fell asleep.

[acatbyanyothername9]

The horror in Husky and his white cat shizun

One thing that strikes me as I re-read 2ha is that Meatbun is in my opinion incredibly skilled at writing horror. And i don't see much discussion about it except in a general hand wavy "it's dark" way. People tend to focus more on the "noncon" between Taxian-Jun and Chu Wanning that the other things.

There's so many things that didn't jump out to me as much during my first read but that are just glaring now. In my opinion it also makes the moments of happiness and the few truly good people stand out all the more.

As meatbun put it in chapter 68 : "it turned out that the most disgusting thing in this world was not ghosts or demons, but those cowardly, worthless beasts who wore human skins and hid in the crowd, willing to say and to do anything in the name of their own survival. At the end of everything, they would say, “I only wanted to live. I’m pitiful and powerless—I’ve done nothing wrong.”

This incredibly bleak world view that humanity is inherently selfish in Ehra makes a lot of sense when you realise it's a horror novel (among other things)

Examples under the cut, in no particular order

There's the psychological horror stuff that's linked to the whole flower business (mind control, mind rape etc.) Being forced to forget all happy memories while all the bad stuff is ramped up to eleven so you keep living in anger and pain wihtout any reprieve what's so ever.

There's the body horror of the Zhenlong Chess Formation which control corpses or dying people. Once the illusion is broken at Jinchen Lake, the bodies explode and taint the whole water red. There's the crucified members of the Feathered Tribe at the bottom of the Abyss also used for the Zhenlong Chess Formation and that's not even mentionning the bridge that allows the BBBF to go back to the Demon Realm (not going to go in details but let's just say it's an ENTIRE UNIVERSE worth of corpses)

From chapter 43 : "With the removal of the last rock, the illusion shattered. The fuban exploded, its blood diffusing into the water like the haze of fog. Near simultaneously, all the monsters and creatures in the market stiffened for a split second—before drooping bonelessly as their bodies festered, saturating the lake’s water with a miasma of blood.

The lake was dyed a red that rapidly deepened as more and more blood seeped into the water. First, things in the distance became hard to see, but soon, the immediate area was clouded over as well, and finally, scarlet filled their vision to the point that they could no longer even see their hands in front of their faces."

From chapter 76 : "Thousands of crosses stood at the bottom of the abyss. To every one was bound a member of the feathered tribe, entirely naked and drenched in blood. Within each of their mouths was stuffed a lingchi19 fruit, and these were what emitted that piercing red light. From above, the collective blaze of these thousands of fruits had easily been mistaken for flames burning deep within the abyss."

There's the existential horror that Hua Binan had Mo Ran almost kill EVERY SINGLE PERSON in the first timeline and basically wanted to do a bis repetita in the second one just so the BBBF could go back to the demon realm. Let's not even get in the whole Heavenly Rift stuff which is basically the fantasy equivalent of a hostile alien invasion where anyone could die at any moment if the rift is not sealed.

There's the horror of a mother forced to cannibalised her child while her husband is made to watch only to be later lynched by the very people he was trying to protect. Which speaking of this family! After being lynched, Chu Xun also digs out his now still heart so he can give his spiritual core to protect the survivors that stayed with him and tried to protect him. Keep in mind this whole tragedy wouldn't have happened without the selfishness of one single person.

From chapter 68 : "Chu Xun’s body slowly lifted its hand, which had not yet gone stiff, and under the control of his spell, it grasped the knife buried in his chest to pull it out. Then—

“Gongzi!” The people around him cried out with grief, their voices twisted and hoarse, soaked with tears. “Gongzi, what are you doing?!”

With his own hands, Chu Xun ripped open the gash in his chest, dug into his flesh, and grabbed his no-longer beating heart. Slowly, inch by inch, he tore it out.

[possibilistfanfiction]

Prompt for your little Hallmark AU: Christmas market (You know, those markets where there are booths who sell Glühwein and Punsch, Im not sure how to correctly translate it in English in Austria we call it Christkindlmarkt)

it’s grey outside, the clouds heavy but not quite snowing yet; it’s warmer than it’s been on clearer days, still cold but almost pleasant, and quiet.

you make sure to give yourself extra time to do your stretches in the morning after you go to camila’s to get breakfast. the atmospheric pressure of the incoming storm is, unsurprisingly, causing your back to ache, but that’s not new and it doesn’t really faze you at this point. if things get bad enough — and they do, sometimes — you just reschedule your plans and take pain meds and muscle relaxers from dr salvius after you do your physical therapy exercises. but your hands don’t ache and you don’t have any numbness in your feet, your temperature is normal, and so you go through your routine and feel better by the end of it.

beatrice picks you up at eleven on the dot, as she confirmed twice over text the evening before with perfect punctuation that made you feel a little bit like you were in trouble but was charming anyway. 

‘hey stranger,’ you say when she knocks on your door, and she blushes and smiles and you’re delighted by the effect you have on her, almost immediately — this exceedingly smart and competent person stumbling over herself the second you smile. it makes you feel powerful and it also makes you want to treat her kindly, to make her laugh.

‘good morning, ava.’ she fidgets, for a moment, and you’re curious why you’re not just going to her truck, but then she takes a hand out of the pocket of her peacoat and opens her palm. ‘i, uh, i noticed your cane was getting stuck in the snow.’

‘oh.’ your first instinct is to be embarrassed, eleven years of abuse rearing its ugly, awful head, but then you look at what she’s actually holding.

‘i already had it,’ she explains, slightly rushed like she’s trying to make sure you’re not upset, like it was just a thoughtful aside of hers. ‘i tore my acl a few years ago and used both on my crutches, and so, i just figured, well… if it doesn’t work, that’s fine, but maybe worth a try?’

you take the winter cane tip attachment from her outstretched hand and it really does feel like some kind of offering for a moment. it’s nice, the crampon itself retractable, and easy enough to put on your cane. when you try it outside the door on the way to her truck, you can’t help but smile, remember a little bit of the joy that first came with movement as you started receiving proper care and accessibility and mobility aids. you don’t take healing for granted, even now. ’thank you,’ you tell her as she unlocks her truck and goes around to the driver’s side. 

she nods. ‘like i said, i already had it sitting around. not a problem at all.’

‘still,’ you say, climbing up and twisting around to greet a suddenly very excited theo in her kennel strapped into the backseat. ‘not many people have been particularly thoughtful in my life, especially not at this.’

she frowns at your admission, her jaw clenching, her face stormy. she’s handsome in her rich maroon scarf and camel wool coat, careful hands on the wheel.

‘anyway,’ you say, a little overcome, ‘how’d you tear your acl?’

she immediately reddens, pulling out of the driveway and trying to act like she’s concentrating very hard on her turn signal to merge onto the completely empty road. 

‘bea, please.’

she sighs, refusing to look at you even at the red light. ‘i was training with theo,’ she says.

‘that’s not horribly embarrassing on its own.’ you grin. ‘there’s got to be more to it.’

‘fine,’ she says, mostly just to humor you, you’re pretty sure. ‘she was small, and we were both learning how to herd. i, well — i tripped over one of the sheep.’

you wait a beat to picture it and then laugh, not unkindly but without any remorse. ‘thank you truly so much for telling me.’

she rolls her eyes. ‘you’re so welcome,’ she says flatly, and you laugh again.

/

you’re confused if your little outing to the christmas market is a date or not for the two minutes it takes for beatrice to park the car, get the small pack holding treats that she carries around for theo buckled around her waist — a little nerdy and totally adorable — and then letting theo out of the kennel. she’s in a little green coat, the same as the other day, and it kind of makes you feel like you’re going to scream, she’s so cute. she greets you fully now, with happy little wiggles, and then situates herself at beatrice’s side. she has a leash connected to her harness, the other half slung over beatrice’s shoulder and across her chest so her hands are free; you think theo doesn’t need it at all, but beatrice explains, ‘in crowded public access areas, it’s appropriate.’ theo, for her part, is busy sniffing a few treats beatrice scattered around her feet in the snow, and then she smiles at you and gestures to head inside.

you’re confused no longer when you see camila’s booth, advertising hot chocolate, apple cider, and egg nog, and she whistles. ‘beatrice, you look so nice with your fancy jacket.’

beatrice glares. 

camila turns to face you fully, a smirk on her face. ‘she never wears that unless it’s a special occasion.’

you can’t help yourself: ‘well, i am a special occasion, if i do say so myself.’

’no one else is saying it,’ lilith grumbles from her seat behind camila, and beatrice fights a laugh while you pout.

‘you look nice too, ava,’ camila says, keeping the peace as you’ve quickly figured out she always does. 

you preen a little, just for the fun of it. ‘why thank you. i love your sweater.’

camila looks down at her jesus was palestinian sweater. ‘’tis the season and all that.’ she beams at you, then beatrice. ‘well, what can i get you both on this romantic outing?’

beatrice sighs in defeat but you grin and look at the menu. ‘well, i’m on vacation and bea picked me up—‘ camila perks up even more at this— ‘so i’m going to do your bailey’s hot chocolate.’

‘i’ll have a cider,’ bea says, and you shoo away her attempt to pay for things, which brings a blush back to her cheeks when you tap your card with a pointed flourish. 

you go through the market with your warm drinks, your cane not sinking into the snow as it had been the past few days, making everything easier, simpler, less nervous with every step. once you have half of your hot chocolate, you lean into beatrice with a smile, and she offers her arm, all clove and pine and her soft scarf. there are booths with ornaments, knitted coasters; you convince her to buy a pretty wreath for the front door of her cabin, which you kind of hope she’ll invite you to see.

it starts to snow when you’re about to leave, the sky darkening early, and she feed theo a few treats before she situates her in the kennel. 

it’s quiet when she starts the truck, and she seems nervous, her hands white knuckled around the steering wheel. ‘i apologize if i was presumptuous.’

you soften. ‘that was a really wonderful date, bea. you can be as presumptuous as you want.’

her smile is shy, bathed in the waning light. ‘well, in that case, would you like to come to my house for dinner?’

‘yes, obviously.’

 she laughs. ‘alright then.’

[soraviie]

spending holidays together.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader  ━ masterlist

━ about: fluff, some angst if you squint  ━  pictures taken from Pinterest

━ a/n: I tried to make this as vague as possible but obviously coming from a country and a family that celebrate Christmas, I was a little bit biased, either way however you celebrate this time or if you're just chilling, I hope you can enjoy this little reaction regardless. Also, there might be a little continuity from previous reactions for some boys

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON: “Monie! Come here, boy! Monie!” 

Seeing only the rushing colours of the uncaring crowd, you waddled to the side and began to weep uncontrollably. Monie will get lost and die, and Namjoon will hate you forever. This was your first holiday together and you couldn’t even do this one simple thing.

And perhaps, yes, it was the three cups of Svarak talking which you’d drunk while wandering the Christmas market in Prague and perhaps yes, it was the horrid jetlag clouding your emotional state to the point where light inebriation was the least of your worries. Oh, why did you pressure Namjoon into bringing Monie abroad? Who brings a dog to a romantic getaway abroad anyway?

“He’ll get lonely,” you whined, placing your palms against Namjoon’s chest as you adjusted yourself in his lap. 

“He doesn’t understand that emotion,” Namjoon had snided, hands reaching up to grab your hips. “Or any emotion for that matter.”

“Dogs can feel emotions!” you pouted in the poor thing’s defence whilst Namjoon brushed his thumb over your lower lip. 

“I know, baby,” he affirmed. “I’m just saying he specifically doesn’t have them.”

“You’re so mean.”

Well, this idiot of course. Maybe you should have been meaner too, maybe then Monie wouldn’t think it as funny to rip away from his leash and go running off in between vendors selling gingerbread cookies and hot wine. And now be lost forever. 

“Baby?” 

Seeing Namjoon, trying to hold onto the thousands of gift bags to send home, running towards you, only made you weep all the harder, snot falling onto your jacket. 

Tossing the paper bag into the slushed snow, Namjoon took a hold of your face and fretted, like he always did, a million miles per second. 

“Are you hurt? Are you in pain? Did someone hurt you? Are your bones broken?!”

“You’re going to hate me!” you cried, earning nothing but a confused frown and prolonged worrying. 

“Why would I hate my baby?” he cooed but you fervently shook your head, evading his kiss. 

“I lost Monie! I-I lost him and they’re gonna sell him, Namjoon! Oh god, they’re gonna sell him to some mean kids as a holiday present who are going to pull on his tail and ears! Oh, God, what have I d-done?!”

“You mean this Monie?” Namjoon asked with a smile as he stepped aside and lo' and behold without the slightest hint of shame in the eye stood a white dog, his leash stretching to tie around Namjoon’s wrist. 

“Oh my God, you bastard!”

The little dog was rather displeased by the callous and unrefined way of your hugging but you paid it no attention. 

“I found him some five minutes ago,” Namjoon explained, more than a little bewildered at your outburst. “Trying to steal some poor guy’s chicken kebab.”

“And all the trip you fondled him more than me. I was but a decoration.”

“Okay, I get it.

“I mean, I bring my wonderful partner halfway across the world to the top 1 spot to celebrate winter holidays in Europe and what do I get? Nothing. They spend the entire time not admiring the splendour of a city with more than a thousand years under the belt, no, they spend that time buying dog treats.”

“Would you shut up?” you pressed a palm against Namjoon’s mouth, feeling the vibrations of his laughter against your skin. “It was our first holiday together, sorry for being emotional about failing you.”

“You could never fail me baby,” he muttered softly, taking your hand away. “Happy holidays. May we spent fifty more together.”

With a kiss against your temples, Namjoon tucked your legs closer into his lap. His apartment might not be a city with a thousand years under its belt and perhaps it did not smell of hot wine, but it was warm and comfortable, standing strong against the harsh weather of this year's winter and you were perfectly content on spending the holidays quietly in your lonesome. Either way just like he did in Prague, Monie slept the night away, only waking when needing to beg for some food.

YOONGI: “So which one is yours?”

And because it made sense, your mother removed her glasses, squinting at the TV. 

“The second one on the left.”

“What, broad shoulders with a nice smile?”

“No, mom, that’s Jin! I’m with Yoongi.”

“Is it the little one?”

After a partially amused albeit exhausted sigh, you affirmed. 

“Yes, it’s the little one.”

“He looks…nice.”

“He is nice,” you smiled softly to yourself. The broadcast ended and Yoongi’s face was replaced by a soft strumming of generic winter music. Looking out the window with a tangerine twirling between your fingers, you hoped he was at least warm somewhere in Seoul, warm and resting. As it was yesterday and as it will be tomorrow, there was a sunken pang that came when thinking of Yoongi. In times like these you wished nothing more for him to be normal, or at least a little less remarkable, for it to be ordinary enough to sit here with you, awkwardly nodding to whatever your mother said, holding your hand in his and gorging on these tangerines that you subconsciously bought for him. 

But well…life was what it was and you had to accept him. All of him. 

A ring at the door. 

“Oh!” your mother jumped, startled by the jarring sound perturbing the otherwise mellow evening. “It’s probably those damn singers!” she cursed, rolling up the newspaper as if a bunch of mitten-cladded carolers could be thwacked on the nose like a misbehaving dog. 

“I’ll get it,” you sprang to your feet, rushing to the door. “Hey, listen,” you yelled at the ringing stranger, battling with the rusty lock. “This is not a festive house so don’t expect any - oh.”

“Oh,” Yoongi echoed softly. His might be freezing red, along with his nose and his hat was perhaps so big it seemed to envelop his head as a whole, and he just might be covered in snow from head to toe as though he’d tripped and dove face down into a big pile, but to you, he was nothing but a vision. 

“Happy holidays,” he whispered and stretched out a small parcel towards you which you clutched, head pounding away thoroughly dazed. 

“You don’t even celebrate,” you muttered but Yoongi only shrugged. 

“I’m here to celebrate you, nothing mo - wow!”

Wrapping your arms tightly around his neck you began to truly ponder if wishes could indeed come true in this harsh and unfair world as someone liked to say. 

“You’re choking me here, lil’ heater,” Yoongi gasped for air but you didn’t listen, smelling in his faint cologne and breathing a heavy exhale of relief. 

“Deal with it.”

He hummed lowly, with one palm reaching to pat your back. It might have been freezing but you didn’t even notice. Unbeknownst to you neither did he. 

JIN: “It’s fine, Jin.”

Nervously, he exhaled, still twiddling with the reindeer print of his singing tie in the front seat of the car.

“I need to be perfect,” he muttered, peering through the dark at your childhood home standing in the distance like a menacing shadow of an oppressive rock face. One he had chosen to smash his head against this night. 

“You don’t need to be,” softly, you denied, kissing his cheek. Even with the ring on both of your fingers, he blushed. “But you still are. Don’t worry. As heinous as you are, you're an angel compared to my relatives.”

Because of the panic-filled tremor running up his spine it took a whole two minutes for Jin to truly register your words, during which you’d already climbed out the car, taken the largest bulk of presents in your arm and knocked on the door, fully awaiting to be greeted warmly back home for the holidays. 

“Heinous?” Jin muttered absent-mindedly before shaking himself out whatever terrible spell besieged him. It wasn’t your mother he was so afraid of - 

“Oh, Seokjinnie! How’s my favourite son-in-law doing?!”

No, it definitely wasn’t your mother, though he would appreciate she’d pinch his cheeks just a tad less. 

“So, you’re the fiance that they divorced once already.”

It was your judgmental aunts that had him sweating in consecutive nightmares for many months now. 

“Auntie A, please, let’s be civil,” you pushed yourself in front of the slowly brewing conflict. “Not on the holidays.”

“So, Seokjin, we wanted for you to be more included so we…tried to make some of your home foods.”

Jin didn’t know much of this nice woman who spoke kindly to him. She might be your second cousin twice removed on your father’s side, or your aunt thrice removed on your mother’s side… Either way, the spread on the table indeed looked far more eccentric than he was used to. And ever since you’d entered his life, it had been nothing but eccentric.

With bated breaths, the nice lady and your mom waited for his approval and cringing inside, he gave a hollow, polite smile. 

“I like it,” he vomited a bit in his mouth. 

As soft music travelled from downstairs, muffled multicolour of lights glimmered from the small window of your bedroom behind which stretched vast slopes of snow covered by dark. 

“What are they talking about?” Jin whispered, stroking your hair as you laid on top of him. Usually, he’d never liked it but you’d been more of his firsts than he’d ever thought. He could hear just the end of the conversation but the drunken drawl made the words nearly incoherent. 

“About how much they love you,” you muttered in reply, tracing absent-minded patterns on his chest. 

“Liar, liar, ugly pants on fire.”

“Hey, these pants are not ugly,” you whined and Jin hummed. “And I wouldn’t lie. Not on this season of goodwill.”

“Good will, my ass, are you not grinding against my crotch?”

HOSEOK: “Would you sit still?” 

“Sorry, my nose was just itching.”

“Well, do you want it green?” 

“No, ma’am.”

You smirked slightly before focusing back on the work at hand. Or should you say on the hand. 

Hoseok really shouldn’t be looking this good in nail polish. Especially how immediately much you wanted these fingers up in your…Well, either way the polish would be destroyed then. 

With the lights twinkling in the background and the fireplace burning, the night was swimming away into the late night with gracious, almost lulling ease. And while you drew the golden stars one by one, there might still be that treacherous minuscule pang of discontent in the lower pits of your heart, but you pushed it away. Ironically, the first night you painted matching nails it was a time much like this - winter holidays, here in snow-dusted Seoul. 

“Just say you’re disappointed,” he had sighed. 

“And what would that change?” you mumbled grimly, focusing on dragging the brush with near perfection, coating the nail slowly in all black. 

Hoseok didn’t say anything, only drew yet another heavy sigh, before laying his head in your lap. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. You knew this would happen - no couple shirts, no photos, nothing shared in public, nothing to ever prove that this, whatever that even entailed, was real. You knew all that but if only knowing would hurt the hollow ache taking root. You felt the weight of his stare but rather than confronting it you decided to be a coward and focus solely on painting your nails. Because that’s what mattered when the love of your life had to tuck you away in his home like a dirty sock otherwise you’ll be harassed until mental breakdown. You knew he carried that ceaseless guilt all around, so much so, that even his ever-present smile was cracking at the seams like vinyl in a cold room. 

“Maybe you can paint my nails?”

That at last had you glancing sparsely towards his side.

“You mean…like matching designs?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, the tone sounding completely casual. Almost too casual. “I don’t mind painting my nails and…

“And I’ve never stopped wanting to have a little bit of you with me everywhere.”

“As cute as it is, I think Baloo just farted.”

Hoseok threw a heavy glare towards your old, over-fattened Grinch of a Birman only to have it returned back tenfold. 

“He hates me.”

“Just a bit. All done.”

Blowing on his nails, Hoseok glimpsed outside and you watched as his stare turned wistful, seeing the many rows of families, friends and couples all enjoying outside, trading easy laughter and intoxicated cheer. 

“You don’t regret it, do you?” he muttered, almost incoherently. “Being with me?”

You brushed a hand over his knuckles with a sad smile. 

“Our family might be small and our home might be a little quiet but it’s a good one. I don’t need anything else.”

For a second, Hoseok almost appeared stunned before his eyes softened in the glimmering lights and he brushed his forehead against yours. 

“Happy holidays, baby.”

JIMIN: As the years began to pile up, more and more you began to understand the unceasing back pain all adults seemed to complain about and even more so the sentiment behind Grinch standing on a hilltop and yelling down upon the entire city “I HATE YOU!” The hatred for you came shockingly easy, hey, maybe you were just a bad person but what was not easy was to remember that you’d lost your best friend and the man of your dreams all in one well-coordinated swoop.

Forever didn’t seem so stable when it could be killed by a few petty, anger-driven words. The only forever would be the ceaseless taunting.

If only you would have spoken more; if only he would have listened more. If only you had been brave enough to finally tell your best friend you loved him. If only you were just bold enough to believe that his jealousy was out of fear and not some chauvinistic sign of unspoken ownership. If only you’d have the guts to crawl back and apologise. If only…

If only you’d crashed into him harder and cracked your own skull in the process. Then you wouldn’t have to be standing here, in the middle of a snowing open-air ice rink, with children skating amok, evading the pleads of their exhausted parents; you wouldn’t have to be standing here looking at the stupid face of stupidly endearing Park Jimin, of his stupid red eyes that hinted at not so long before finished crying session, of his stupid mismatched hair, growing dark in the roots and still blond at the tips and most of all you wouldn’t have to be feeling the unmistakable sensation of sheer joy as you were faced with someone whom in anger you swore to hate forever. 

Guess that forever didn’t last either. 

His hands, red and roughened from the cold, shuttered to a halt, previously occupied with dusting off your coat as he’d bumped into you on the ice, hurtling you painfully through the air.

He wet his dry lips and gently ghosted those dry-ass hands of his over your elbows, wanting to trap you? Hug you?

Either way, you were pissed and the crowd as it turned could be extremely lonely. Snowflakes fell in large clumps from the blackened sky, behind which sprawled the infinite Cosmos. Infinite Cosmos! With planets and galaxies and universes beyond your comprehension so why? Why, oh why, did this man hold so much power over you?! 

“Don’t come near me,” you growled. “I don’t want to forgive you!”

Jimin being an obnoxious, catty bastard of an angel leaned into your face, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath on your nose, his own expression marred with sheer spite. 

“So I’m forgiven now?”

There were many things to hate about Jimin. How he made your heart quicken and how well he was aware of that fact. The cocky smile he wore as your face hued in unflattering shades of red. You hated how sad he looked when he was down and how it made you want to ruin the entire world for ever daring to upset him. You were supposed to be unflappable, unapproachable and yet slyly like a creeping cat he had pushed past all those finely built walls to make a home in your heart. 

“I’m angry at you!” you curled up your fists only to receive a harsh scowl in return. 

“I’m angry at you as well!” Then he smirked because, despite all your talk when his arm wrapped around your waist, you made no effort to remove it. 

“Stop doing that!”

“Oh, I’m sorry that my face makes expressions,” he rolled his eyes, pushing you closer.

Ask anyone and they’ll tell you that winter lights were pretty but they were cold, much like the sun at certain longitudes of the Earth, but currently, you couldn’t possibly get any warmer. Your back was positively sweltering acutely aware of his stable touch and the fine line you so inappropriately were skating on. Friends. Not lovers. Friends. Just friends. Not even friends now, ex-friends! Strangers! But the way he was holding you was of no strangers. Of no friends. 

Standing here in this stupid, overpriced ice rink with its stupid golden lights, you felt yourself falter, succumbing to weakness. It was all his fault! So why could you not stop the smile blossoming upon your lips?!

“Park Jimin,” you shoved an accusing finger into his chest that definitely hadn’t been getting more toned as of late. “Will you hold yourself responsible when I experience emotional malfunction?”

“Do you mean feelings?” he clarified, eyebrows wrinkling in confusion. “Because if you do, I've been experiencing emotional malfunction for a long time already. I’m the victim here!”

“And what do you want me to do about it?” 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, but you knew that glint in the eye that had nothing to do with the glimmer of the decorations.  “Kiss it better why don’t you.’Tis the season of kisses.”

“It’s not.”

“It is now,” he growled and pushed his lips upon yours.

TAEHYUNG: Honestly, of all the crazy moments within the last year, it was this one that made you fully grasp just how wild one’s life could get. Here you were on this shaking metal box, after much snivelling and snarling to get a little piece of paper, cramped in between two sweaty dudes and travelling hundreds of miles per hour just to see someone’s son. Embarrassing. And yet you were trembling inside.

Catching a taxi, you tried not to get overwhelmed by the bustling of this foreign city and instead focused on perfecting the tied ribbon, praising the heavens that it didn’t get too smushed in your carry-on luggage. Your family were more than a little concerned and more than greatly disheartened by you skipping away across the world on winter holidays of all time but anyone with eyes could see - your heart was already long gone to that stranger in your phone.

Naturally, you didn’t enjoy seeing Taehyung so glum but the miserable reply of “Doubt so” to your misleading little “Happy Holidays, dear!” did grant you a bit of selfish cheer. He was missing you.

As the decorated trees and many overrun shops breezed past the car windows, you smiled to yourself, nuzzling into the red scarf he’d gifted you. Though when the time came to rap at his door, after getting through the apartment security, you found a sudden knot forming in your throat. What if he didn’t want you to see you? The plans after all had been seemingly set in stone - you return back home and spend the time there. What if he’d been preparing to go out with friends? What if he wasn’t even home? You’d look even more foolish after going through all this trouble. 

Shaking off the nerves, you gathered yourself and knocked before the sliver of cowardice could nestle once again. You could hear Tannie bark on the other side which was a rather good indication he was home and just a second after were elatedly greeted by the sound of slippers shuffling across the floor. You threw a wink at the camera showing his doorstep, barely having the time to jump out of the way when light speed they were thrust into your face. 

“You might get stuck that way,” you teased as Taehyung stood in the doorway, floundering for air like fish out of the water. 

“I thought you were going home for holidays.”

“Well, I couldn’t leave you all alone,” you shrugged. “Don’t say that you’re not - oof!” 

With the gentleness of a raging rhinoceros, Taehyung yanked you into his arms, swaying around as though he was hearing his favourite song. 

“You didn’t even look at your present,” laying on the bed next to him, you pointed at the still-wrapped gift perched on the nearby bedside table. With an elbow braced against his head, he didn’t even glimpse at the gift or attempted to deny the accusations. 

“I will tomorrow,” he promised quietly and you hummed, twirling the button of his loose cardigan that truthfully sat too low on his chest for your mental well being. 

“I’m sorry this probably wasn’t the best winter holiday -”

“It is,” he interrupted without blinking, tone gaining such a lilt of fierceness, you raised your head in astoundment. 

“Did your wish come true or something?”

“Yes, it did,” he answered simply. 

JUNGKOOK: Perching the laundry basket on your hip, you tilted your head to the side, curiously inspecting the green thing attached to the ceiling. You knew Jungkook had his fair share of quirks but putting herbs in the doorway… Shaking your head, you gave a resigned sigh and decided to leave your boyfriend be. But the green thing seemed to haunt you like the world’s shittiest ghost. It wasn’t enough for it to be shoved in a random corner of Jungkook’s own home but soon it invaded yours as well. Waking up, with one cheek pressed against his chest, you shook Jungkook awake, pointing concernedly at the vegetable hovering on the lamp above your head. 

“What is that for?” you inquired, confused but he merely smirked, wagging his eyebrows in nothing but the most annoying fashion.

“Why don’t you tell me?” 

“How would I know?” you grumbled, kicking a leg out of the covers, missing the affronted look Jungkook threw your way, when you missed his puckered up lips. 

As the month dragged on, you grew increasingly perplexed at how Jungkook’s green celery seemed to simply appear wherever your eyes strayed to. You were growing half convinced he had these things half a dozen shoved down his pants. 

“Yes, mom, I got the correct size,” you defended, trying to spot Jungkook’s car in the underground car park of the hellsite that was a shopping centre during the holiday rush. A black car…in a shopping parking lot...like looking for a needle in a stack of needles. Finally, seeing the correct licence plate, you drew a heavy sigh of relief.

“I’ve got to go, talk to you later!”

Upon getting in, you threw the many bags in the backseat, ready to yap Jungkook’s ears off with some overdue complaining only to fall promptly silent when seeing that piece of kale hanging from the car mirror. 

“Ehm…I don’t think it’s an air freshener, Koo,” you gently informed him and he scoffed, lips jutting out in a deeply offended pout. 

“What did I do?” you whined, receiving a dirty glare as an answer. 

“Do you hate me or something?” he glowered after turning his head to the other side and laying his chin on the steering wheel. 

“Why would you say that?”

“You’ve not given me any kisses,” he pointed glumly at his spinach.

“Why would…why would a bundle of herbs equal kisses?” you frowned, failing to see his logic. It wasn’t like it was rare but you’ve never been this confused, especially given how resentful he appeared. 

“Herbs-?” then all of a sudden he broke out in roaring laughter, startling you immediately. Clutching at his stomach, Jungkook threw his head against the seat. “Oh my god, I’m in love with a dummy.”

“Don’t call me a dummy!” you insisted. “Explain why artichoke equals kisses?”

Whatever you said set him off even further and loudly clapping, it would seem Jungkook would commit suicide by choking himself with laughter. 

“ᵃʳᵗᶦᶜʰᵒᵏᵉ,” he gasped, tears streaming down his cheeks and blissfully ignoring your budding irritation. 

“Fucking Elmo laughing ass,” you groused, turning up your nose and hissing when Jungkook pressed a wet kiss against your cheek.  

© soraviii/soraviie 2022-2023

[amaretigris]

The Sea Witch's Curse

Taglist: @luna2034 @notagreekgal28 @hopeisrising @mylittlemermaid221 @justagirlthatlovedtoread @daydreamerwithnohobbies

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Ch. 8 | 1.3k words | Angst & fluff

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"What do you want?!"

You screamed with tears still streaming down your cheeks. Realization hit you in that moment.

"What- what did you do to him?"

Ursula's head and torso rose from the water.

"He could never be happy with you, (Y/N). Not really," she hissed.

"You just don't want his curse to be broken," you pointed an accusatory finger at the witch.

"We're so close, and it kills you," you sneered.

Ursula let a tentacle emerge to slap the water at this.

"Watch it, you horrid little damsel. It doesn't matter what you do. He'll never be free from his curse. Unless...," the suckers of her tentacles undulated.

The sight made you shiver.

"Unless someone were to prove their undying love for the prince."

You narrowed your eyes at her ghastly face.

"How?"

Ursula smirked. Time for the show. She lifted herself from the water completely, her tentacles dripping. She brought up her arms in rapture. Dark, menacing thunder clouds formed in the sky, and a gushing wind suddenly threatened your balance on the plank. You struggled to keep your eyes on her, your hair whipping in your face.

"Winds of the Caspian Sea,

Come forth to me.

Reveal a love that be,

Buried by depths of the sea," she sang.

You looked down at the water. She wanted you to go back? No, that couldn't be right. There has to be a catch. She wouldn't let you off that easy.

"All you have to do is walk the plank, my dear. Your fin is gone and you won't be able to breathe. You'll drown," she cooed.

You shivered at her words.

"I- I can't," you managed.

Your throat tightened.

"You can. Death is the easy part, love. You'll be free from this hurt; free from this pain. The prince will be happy with you while he's at sea, but, when he returns home? Forget about it. You'll be the last thing he wants. A constant reminder of his prison. What greater way to show your love than sacrificing yourself for his freedom?"

The gears turned in your mind. Even though you were a mermaid yourself, the witch's siren song and sweet, sticky words were hard to ignore. You tried to shake the thoughts from your head, but they wouldn't leave. You could sacrifice yourself. It would be an ultimate act of love to break Eric's curse. What did you really think? That this would be a fairytale with a happy ending? Those weren't real. Not in this world. You've lived through enough harsh pain to know that.

"What would happen?"

You suddenly spoke, looking up at her dark form.

"Eric would be free?"

Ursula's cheshire grin almost split her cheeks.

"Yes. Yes, my child. The prince will be free from his curse. Free to return home."

You closed your eyes for a moment in all the chaos, your hair and dress continuously slapping in the wind. Was this how it ended? This had been a thrilling adventure that you never asked for. This experience had made you feel more alive than you had in years. Maybe it was meant to be this way. Maybe you were meant to sacrifice yourself.

Nodding your head, a decision came to the forefront of your mind. You kept your eyes closed, but opened your mouth slowly, letting your siren song peel from your throat. It would be the last time you would ever sing it. The beautiful tune carried through the island air, gracing everyone's ears. Everyone turned to look towards the sound in wonder - even Grimsby.

All but Eric. The moment that the melody hit his eardrums, flashes of his home played out before his very eyes. The Sardinian beaches he'd walked as a child. The market and vendors he knew like the back of his hand. His mother, the Queen, and his dog, Max. Everything was so crisp and clear. Then came the flood of you. Your bright smile and your beautiful hair. The image of your skin erupted with gooseflesh under Eric's fingers. You standing in the rain. All of a sudden, a huge wave of emotion slammed into Eric's chest. He almost doubled over from the sensation. He heard your words next, like they were whispered in his ear.

"Go on and be free,

For me, my love, for me.

As your fingers graze the sand,

Envision my heart, and my hand.

I love yo-."

Ursula's tentacle slapped over your mouth before you finished your last word.

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅

Eric felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand tall.

"(Y/N)!"

He immediately took off towards his ship.

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅

"No! You wretched little wench. What did you do?!"

Ursula screamed at you before letting all her tentacles coil around your body, plummetting you into the water. She propelled you down, further and further, until your back smacked the solid ocean floor. There was no give. You tasted blood in your mouth. Ursula's tentacles came to wrap around your neck, squeezing tightly. You thrashed for a moment before trying to urge your muscles to relax. It was so hard when your lungs were screaming for air. Black spots appeared in your vision. You opened your mouth, letting the water seep in. You were slipping into unconsciousness.

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅

Eric ran up on the deck, almost throwing himself over the side in search of you. He ran back and forth to both ends of the ship watching the water. He saw shadows, a mix of purple and green, but they were everywhere. He couldn't pinpoint where exactly they came from. Eric didn't know what to do, so he dove in. He couldn't lose the one person he'd connected with after all these years. He couldn't lose you.

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅

Back below the water, Ursula watched the life leaving your eyes. A wicked cackle ripped through her. It wasn't until a trident pierced her abdomen that Ursula stopped laughing. Loosening her tentacles around you, she stared down at the blades sticking out of her flesh. Your lifeless form slunk to the side on the ground. She turned slightly, angling her head.

"Brother," she hissed. "I should have known. Only you would do something so cowardly."

Your father's face was as hard as steel.

"You don't mess with my daughters and live to tell the tale, Ursula," he bellowed.

Ursula's eyes held Triton's with as much hate as she could muster before rolling back in her head. Her mouth fell open and her body went rigid. Leaving his trident for now, your father swam to you. Picking you up from the ocean floor and smoothing your hair out of your face, the king's eyes tried to tear. Placing his hand on your heart, Triton closed his eyes and concentrated. There may still be hope that you weren't completely gone. After a beat of silence in the water, your legs morphed back to your fin.

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅

Eric swam as hard as he could. He dove under multiple times, holding his breath until his lungs felt like they would burst, and he had to resurface. Shaking the water from his hair, Eric yelled out in desperation. He couldn't find you. He couldn't find you anywhere. It was too dark to see down there and although the colored smoke had stopped, the water remained incredibly cloudy. There were some points where Eric couldn't see his limbs in front of him. He tried to persevere. He tried to keep going, to no avail.

Grimsby had snapped out of his trance and rushed back to the ship as well. Spotting Eric diving off the side of the ship, Grimsby ran to the starboard side, yelling his concerns. Eric ignored them until he couldn't anymore. Grimsby threw Eric a life raft, which he reluctantly accepted. The thoughts clawing inside his mind wouldn't let up.

He'd failed you. You sacrificed yourself for him - to break his curse. Eric never wanted it to be this way. He never wanted to lose you. It turns out that you could find home in another person. He had envisioned returning to his real home again with you by his side. The thought of returning to it now felt empty.

[spicehill]

inescapable paths of purpose, meaning in meaninglessness

or: why the path of nihility suits jiaoqiu so much better than abundance ever could, and it's fitting that his kit has no added healing. warning ahead for......... kinda rambling and talking in circles about this guy lmao. does this even make sense?????? help???????? uhhh... a tl;dr:

ah! would you look over there, it's my shameless favorite tv trope article happening off-screen in his backstory, break the cutie!

honestly it's kinda funny that both jiaoqiu and the emanator of nihility don't have a sense of taste anymore. the spice really is just to feel something. anything

somehow I didn't get to talk directly about him having like 4 different hats he wears and the fascinating psychology of role identities. how.

tried to get tf out of this field and they keep pulling me back in.

ms. arbiter general feixiao please one chance ( to prevent me, your loyal and devoted retainer jiaoqiu, from falling into utter and unending despair now that i've invested any remaining sense of purpose I have in this life in your survival )

jiaoqiu's character stories start and end in the same place, with him on the shore of rainsoar lake: the setting is the same, the environment the same, the beautiful details that paint the picture of a welcoming, pleasant place are unchanging.

the only thing that has changed is jiaoqiu.

he does not bother with the rain that runs down his ears now, he does not find anything to appreciate in the mild, sweet taste of wild rice. and even though he now sees his time here in the lake as serving a new endeavor, one that pulls him away from the pain and pointlessness of medicine, he is about to start anew on the path that he tried to leave in the first place: a single new patient, one with an affliction more challenging to cure than any wound he ever saw on the battlefield.

how did he get here?

bear with me through a short personal anecdote -- it grounds a lot of my perception of finding purpose -- a vivid memory I have of a conversation when I was younger with my father concluded with him telling me something. not everyone feels the need to find their purpose in their work, and that's okay. it's more strange to need your work to fulfill your life's purpose than not. and he felt that was important because, as the child of educators, I had only ever known adults who derive a deep sense of meaning and purpose from their work and the way they help others.

medicine, like education, is a field built of devotion, compassion. it is a selfish selflessness: by merely participating in it, you are seeking meaning and purpose. and as the child of prominent alchemists, I wouldn't doubt that jiaoqiu had never really known any adults who didn't help others while growing up, either.

that's kind of where his character stories start: the first time he's at rainsoar lake, he's young, enthusiastic, pleasant, hopeful. at the start, his demeanor isn't a diplomatic mask: its genuine, along with his desire to help others who need the most help on the yaoqing, cloud and verdant knights who face countless battles. maybe at this point in his life, several centuries prior, he would've walked the path of abundance with ease.

but that is not the man you meet now: the one we meet in-game wears politeness and pleasantries as a front most of the time, worries and plans almost-constantly, and really doesn't even think well of himself. jiaoqiu a harsh critic of his own shortcomings and mistakes, and isn't a stranger to feeling like a mistake or shortcoming of his own has happened. the contrast between the way he treats others ( pleasantness, gentleness, patience ) and the way he treats himself ( criticism, frustration, disappointment ), I think, is one of the first big hints we get outside of his character stories for traits that actually suit the path of nihility well.

to the next point, and circling back to his character stories: I always found it interesting that the drip marketing released for jiaoqiu portrayed his initial departure from medicine as being due to a broken heart.

this doesn't seem like it was a mistranslation or miscommunication with the localization, even though brokenheartedness is often associated with romance or love for another person of some kind. heartbreak is also when something is soul-crushing; heartbreak is falling out of love against your will with something you deeply loved once before. heartbreak is also irredeemable loss, often unsalvageable and irreversible. jiaoqiu's brokenheartedness stems from losing his passion for healing, his sense of purpose, and losing his sense of taste, all three of which were always deeply intertwined and interconnected.

character story details seem to suggest that his loss of taste may actually be physical more than psychological due to exposure to the lux arrow bombardment in the third abundance war: he was close enough to the impact that killed the previous arbiter general of the yaoqing while rescuing feixiao that it's almost like he has taste loss due to radiation exposure. combined with the building sense of pointlessness in his work as a military healer, seeing all his effort to help others and ease their suffering wasted again and again, he left healing after that -- seemingly to start a restaurant, which he called rainsoar eatery -- to try to salvage the little sense of purpose he has left after years and years as a healer made him feel purposeless.

the funny thing about cooking is that it's also a profession of compassion where your work is meant to help others -- cooking makes people happy, makes them feel warm, full. it's more temporary than medicine, but is a form of medicine of it's own right. in a way, jiaoqiu was still searching for purpose and meaning in his work, but now his scale and sense of personal impact was much smaller, much more temporary. he doesn't seem to believe at this point in his life that he's still capable of a larger impact. thus, in lost and adrift, the order of magnitude in which he describes impact are two extremes: either saving one person ( easy ) or saving the world ( impossible ). this is another signature conundrum of someone who has lost their way when their sense of self-meaning has been derived from work of compassionate service: what's the point of doing the hardest work if I can't really make a difference?

seeing pointlessness in effort spent on helping others is nihilistic, though it seems like jiaoqiu is still holding onto some hope for meaning.

so when his master from the alchemy commission comes to find him again years after the third abundance war at his restaurant near the lakeshore, he came with the purpose of persuading jiaoqiu to take on one more patient. just one, who his master promises will help him understand a healer's purpose -- and she's perhaps the most impossible person to heal in the world.

but he's saving all his medical effort for her: genuinely healing you is effort poorly spent. you're no longer part of his sense of purpose. thus far, I think working for feixiao has already redefined some of his sense of magnitude of impact, working to try and cure feixiao -- saving one person, in this case, is very important. and maybe the impossibility of the task is part of the point: it won't stop him from trying everything he can anyway.

[fuckkbrunch]

I thought this would be quick...

Please ignore my blurry headers, I swear I'm working on it.

So this is a two in one, since you need to make the sauce recipe from the back of the book as well. I hadn't banked on it still being 40°C outside, and as you may recall, my kitchen has no windows.

Luckily Tony says this sauce should take no more than 45 minutes, and ideally much less. The meatballs however, took quite some time.

I think this is entirely too much onion for meatballs, but maybe that's just me. I used some Sicilian oregano that I bought a few months back for my tiny, apartment style herb garden. Most of the herbs have died, but the oregano is still doing okay.

A pound each of ground veal, beef, and pork. Panko and eggs. Nothing fancy - oh, except my fancy garlic...

Look at these big honkin' cloves! Not shallots, garlic. I really got a deal at the farmers market last week. The guy wasn't lying when he said it's strong. Cook up the minced veg and herbs for a few minutes and cool them before mixing into the meat.

The formed meatballs chill for 15-60 minutes. I left them longer (2.5 hours) because I somehow threw my back out a little, and needed to take a time out. It kinda works out, since my fridge is working overtime in this crazy fucking 3 week heatwave.

Then, the sauce.

Of course, the week I need a bunch of Roma tomatoes, Costco is all out. Had to buy some depressing ones from the cheap grocery store. I let them sit at room temp for a few days so they could ripen as much as possible. Dunno if it helped, the skin was really hard to get off even after blanching and an ice bath.

Onward and upward. I splurged a little and got myself a case of San Marzano whole tomatoes. I think they helped make up for the sad Romas.

When the sauce is mostly ready, preheat your oven to 400° so that your apartment can get even more disgusting and unbearable. Now stick your head over an oily cast iron for a half hour and sear 27 meatballs on all sides.

The onions stuck to the pan and over cooked, so I had to clean the pan between batches. Not ideal.

Blitz your sauce with an immersion blender, then stir in 2 chunks of butter. Rip up your basil, stir, season and you're done.

I realized my roaster was too big for this many meatballs to sit deep enough in the wine and sauce mixture, if you can believe it. So I used the braising pan that I made the sauce in, and the cast iron that I seared the meatballs in. Both work just like a braising pan.

Don't believe the people who say you can't cook tomatoes in cast iron, they don't know shit.

Pour almost equal parts wine and pomodoro (a little more wine than sauce) around the meatballs and bake for 20 minutes. Yes, I was drinking white wine (with ice) from a whiskey glass while finishing this up. My entire being is just sweat and back pain at this point, I'm not fucking around anymore. We're in the homestretch.

Really good, fresh mozza, and some of that good parm I bought back in the winter. That wedge is probably going to last me the whole book.

His recipe says to put the bottom of the bun underneath the meatballs while they broil, but I'm not partial to burnt, soggy bread, and I hate when the top and bottom bun are fully separated. You need that back connection to hold the meatballs in! So I just broiled the balls with the cheese on top (my broiler fixed itself...?), and plopped them into the buns once the cheese looked nice. Add a bit of the reserved pomodoro to the bun.

Sure ain't beautiful, and it's hefty, but she's fuckin' tasty. Got a tiny bit soggy towards the end, but nothing fell or dripped onto my plate. Very clean meatball sub.

| Meatball Parm Hero & Pomodoro |

Taste is a 4 out of 5. The meatballs were pretty juicy, even though I hit a higher temp than Tony called for.

Difficulty is a 4 out of 5. The back pain may be clouding my judgment, but this is a lot for one day. Make your pomodoro in advance.

Time was hard to say. Without my extended break, I think this would have taken about 4 hours.

Tony calls for footlong semolina hero rolls with sesame seeds on them, split in half to serve two people each. The closest I could muster was 6 inch Italian style sausage buns with semolina. They got the job done pretty well, so I'm calling it. This recipe feeds at least 8 people.

[azure-steel]

Starter Asks - ALWAYS ACCEPTING @umbral-stigmata-unbound

When had breath become so heavy? When had touch become so searing and magnetic? When did the brewing warmth become the most overwhelming waters to drown in? Vincent Valentine had made himself a man of control and accountability, since the days of ShinRa and Turks, and he had found out the hard way with the worst possible consequences how losing that control could only spell disaster and ruin. The years since leaving his coffin had been spent battling for control once more, and being pulled apart at the seams on a divine level and then put back together only months or more ago? Control was something he must depend on and hone stronger than ever. And yet here they were. Damn it all. Was it the drinks had in one of the secure balcony's at the Inn of Kalm, that they'd treated themselves to given this was their fifth meeting in the last week in a half? Was it how each of those meetings seemed to be easier and easier, and was it how it left Valentine wanting and yearning for something he could not allow himself to define? Was it the easy conversation, and the far too easy confessions that slipped between them, with nothing but buildings and vines and flowering plants to hide them upon the balcony? Or was it every yearning need and it's fire, stoked by the company and the drink, building towards a pyre hard to ignore, mixed with the absolutely startling and growing scent of arousal? It was not Vincent's own. No. No, Vincent was ashamed to admit how easy it was for his extra senses, and the beasts bound to them, to pick out who it was. Cloud was aroused, that heat burning hotter, and it seemed every word, every movement, drew them towards disaster. Vincent couldn't be bothered to care, in the end. It was Cloud's hand drawing him forward by the leather straps of his collared cloak to bring him in and expose his mouth to the smash of his that began it. And it was now the raven haired cloaked figure vying for control as he pressed Cloud into the wall right by the edge of the balcony. Hot breath spilled between them and he felt a pent up grunt leave him as their wet and aching lips parted. A golden-gauntleted, clawed hand wound around the others lower back to sudden draw him close as the other gloved hand moved through blonde tresses and found purchase. The press of hungry lips, and Vincent panicked. He should draw back, but every instinct to do so was flooded as he pressed Cloud into the wall again. He shouldn't allow that claw to be touching the blonde like that, and yet it traveled and tugged at the back of Cloud's top. Years of of resolution to holding these feelings and urges beneath the surface and feeling from afar, seemed to shatter like the most fragile shell as the beast of longing wanted to consume Cloud Strife here and now. "...Cloud..." he growled when lips parted again, breathe huffing past his lips as he ducked his head, trying to grasp for control, for restraint...but this position had his lips by Cloud's neck, and suddenly teeth with almost-too-sharp canines dragged and nipped at exposed flesh. Flesh he yearned to lick, to taste. Fighting it. He was fighting it, but his struggle only tore a primal growl that rumbled from his chest and purred past his lips.

Aroused was possibly putting it mildly, where the strain of hot muscle against leather coupled with that insatiable heat pooling between his thighs was impossible to ignore, to the point where it was becoming painful. A not so subtle grind of his pelvis against the other's thigh the closest release he could possibly hope for in this precise moment.

One day had been Cloud's allotted time here in Kalm, and almost a fortnight had passed since that fateful meeting down in the bustle of the market district. Who would have thought, after all the years they had known each other already, that it would be here amidst the finery of the shaded balcony, that kindred spirits would discover one another?

Who would have thought that one exploratory kiss, spontaneous, daring, would have the blond pressed against the wall, flesh grating against warm red brick.

So afraid to allow himself the very notion of happiness, to want and be wanted in return - it all seemed like some wonderful pipe dream, so close to the touch and yet so far out of reach all in the same instance. Succumbing to that need, crippling to the senses, an entirely new misery, a pain like no other tearing down the walls barricading what he truly believed to be a heart barren and devoid of all feeling.

And yet the scorch of Vincent's touch would lay waste to the lie, to fathom that perhaps, truly, there really was a life after death, figurative or otherwise. Where fantasy surpassed reality even when the clash of lips, teeth and tongue, the dance of hands scrabbling to release skin from its bind of cloth, would feel better than the dream, better than anticipation, better than the droll existence lived outside of this place.

Because here nothing else mattered in the moment, nothing but they and the searing sting of the brunettes teeth sinking into the vulnerable flesh of his throat. It was all the courier could do to tilt his head back against the wall if only to give Vincent better access, to feel those eager teeth against his skin once more, to know the pleasure of this desperate desire threatening to burst right out of his chest.

Cloud cannot contain the strangled gasp, a sharp inhale the moment that very same sting would course through him, a shudder as though struck by lightning, and eliciting the hot swell of fresh blood to surge between his thighs.

"You're holding back..." a heated whisper breathed against the shell of his would be lover's ear followed by the languid hot lap of his tongue, hands finding their way beneath that tattered crimson cloak, grasping the man, unabashed around the ass and tugging him impossibly closer still.

"... We're all monsters here..."

[mildiva]

So I’ve Decided To Start A Blog About Music And Parties

the idea came to me on a break at work after leaving my phone at home, my mind never clearer… i should be blogging about music. pitchfork is dead, first of all, and third of all it’s something i cannot live without, so why not?

I’m not sure of the “” format “” this will take but right now i’ll just write things as they come?? and part of my love for music is of course parties. they’re still so life giving to me and i still think nothing is better than dancing with gay ppl some of whom are my friends and hearing them dj. some of them are even good! it’s just spaces of eternal and endless flowing love. anyways.

arianka is back!! when i first heard yes, and?, i thought “alright miss grande this is cute!” and it’s grown on me ever since. I’ve been anticipating this album, seeing what direction she would go. i’ve been listening to sweetener every day for the last few weeks mostly because the eating 4 free series on ariana recontextualized her… everything, i guess?? i’d always seen her as just like a Nickelodeon product industry plant which as a certified quirky-not-like-other-girl syndrome haver did not interest me. i was still listening ofc but i wasn’t invested like i was in say lady gaga (and oh how the tables have turned on stefani the pharmacy tech but i digress!) anyways the five part e4f series on her, how she got started with looping covers of imogen heap on youtube, her serious involvement in the production of all her albums, really digging into the pain and scrutiny she’s been through from her time with The TV Producer Who Shall Not Be Named to the donut incident (which i always thought was a slay) to the literal Manchester bombing, her relationships especially with mac miller… not gonna call myself an arianator or w/e but i am a fan now, especially after relistening.

before i get into the album i just want to say this: the music video for we can’t be friends was adorable! it’s very sad that we don’t get music videos anymore because they’re not profitable or useful for marketing. still haven’t seen the yes and video but i’ll get to it. my main point is that give evan peters a stingy little mustache, grow his hair out a little longer, and he could pass for spongebob slater! so many people on twitter are mocking him for his looks/ariana for being with him but gassing up evan. look, ethan is… not a guy i would approach in a bar let’s say, but i’d let him buy me a drink, you know? and if we’re to believe ariana on supernatural and ordinary things, they have something special! tweets will go viral about “every hot girl needs a medium ugly bf” but she’s not allowed to do it? anyways.

if you detect a pivot in tone here, it’s because i’m no longer blogging with a sour cream donut and 3/4 of a dunkin latte with oatmilk and nothing else fueling my body, sun glowing through the clouds and full of optimism.. there’s a harried blogging now while i try and finish this before i hop in the shower to get ready for a hookup tonight. also, i’ve been thinking and listening to eternal sunshine again, reading and digesting lyrics and of course many many stan tweets about it.

first, i’d like to amend something i stated earlier that i refuse to edit: evan peters represents dalton her ex(?) husband, not ethan. (side note: i wonder if she’s thought back to the line in thank u, next where she says she hopes she’ll only get married once. either way the song is still a smash!) i of course forgive my confusion because, for reasons unknown even to myself, i assumed the majority of this album was about the forbidden romance that soon overflowed into her public relationship with spongebob, but it’s not! this is very much a breakup album and nobody is bored in it.

i’m really fascinated by this because ariana took such a turn in disappearing from the public eye after getting together with dalton (which was certainly aided by the pandemic). as a non-stan, i couldn’t tell you what little she HAS been putting out, but if the inimitable joan summers couldn’t find pictures of her for a two year period, it’s safe to say she was lying low. and yes there have been jokes and supposition about “ariana wasn’t allowed to talk about the divorce as per their agreement but she sang about it~~” BUT! if we take that into consideration (and also rely on the journalistic analysis of e4f), most of the negative press and comments came from dalton and his camp. divorce agreements and technicalities of speech aside, i think she chose a much kinder way to speak about their relationship. even she says she wishes she hated him (knowing very little about their relationship, I’m happy to hate him off of the line about him turning the tv up on her crying) but she doesn’t! even with songs like the boy is mine, supernatural, and ordinary things, she really details a story of a relationship disintegrating with both her and dalton finding other people. it’s certainly not the cheating homewrecker story everybody was running with months ago. even if the arianators turn on dalton, he’s still spared any real damage to his reputation because she doesn’t paint him as a monster, scoundrel, narcissist, etc. not to get too “a man can laugh but a woman can only chortle” about it, but i hope people who wrote ariana off listen and reconsider that despite the tabloids and the lyrics, none of us know what went down in that marriage.

okay but what about the music? this will maybe be the shortest part of this blog (oops!), but I’m really fascinated with the narrative around and in the album. the music, I’ll probably need to listen for another week before i have anything worthwhile to say (i need to go full geek on it). keeping it brief, it felt very airy. sonically it sounds like the imaginary room the cover was shot in: spacious and full of sunbeams. something about some of the songs (wait for your love and yes, and?) felt very 80s to me, but i’d need a psychoanalyst to explain that to me. you still hear an rnb influence throughout, but why wouldn’t you? obviously the boy is mine, but true story as well with the bass straight out of “pony” by ginuwine and a drum pattern (pattern, not sample, don’t get it twisted) similarly to “don’t hurt yourself” by beyoncé. my personal favorite of the album was imperfect for you, but i’m a sucker for a pedal tone that creates dissonance, what can i say?

if you’ve actually read this far thank you? im amazed that you read a 20 mile long blog that frankly, is not even well written yet. xoxo 🐇

[melanie-ohara]

WIP Weekend: this really Baldurs my Gate

Or, Three Tavs and a Durge Awaken on a Nautiloid

This week, I've been mostly playing BG3 and I can't stop making new characters. I started wondering what would happen if all my tadfools hung out, and one thing led to another and -

A Nautiloid in Hell

It was raining in Rivington, and Emily picked her way carefully along the path to avoid the bigger puddles. The late afternoon was warm, and she didn't mind the kind of rain that came in fat, heavy drops. It plastered her pale hair to her face and stuck her robe to her back, but soon she would be home and she could change her clothes and stoke the fire in the grate before she started cooking the fish she had bought from the monger on Wyrm's Crossing. She reached the door of the cottage she shared with her ailing mother and wiped her boots on the mat before opening the door.

"I'm home!" Emily called, nudging the door shut behind her with her elbow as she kicked off her boots.

"Thank goodness," her mother answered from her armchair, without looking up from her knitting. "The fire needs tending."

Emily smiled and kissed her forehead. "Of course, mother."

She heaved another log into the grate and went to her bedroom to change while she waited for it to catch, and when she returned in a warm woolen jumper, she found it already roaring again. Her mother put down her knitting to talk with her while she took pans down from the wall and started on dinner.

Emily told her about her day at the Temple of the Open Hand, praying to Ilmater for the sick and the dying. Her mother managed to hold her tongue until the heads were boiling in a pot of water and Emily was carefully slicing fillets from the rest of the fish, but in the end she couldn't resist.

"Have you inquired at Sorcerous Sundries yet?" she asked.

Emily shook her head and tried not to sigh. "Not today," she said, without looking up from the fish. "I don't think it's a good idea. I'm not a wizard."

"You don't need to be to work there," her mother pointed out. "And you would make a fine librarian."

Emily melted a little lard in the pan over the fire and then laid the fish in it once it started to bubble. "I'm happy where I am," she said.

"At the temple? I know, dear, I know." She folded her hands in her lap and Emily tried not to notice the tremor in them. Her mother never mentioned their desperate need for more coin, but sometimes she wished she would - it'd make her selfishness harder to indulge.

"Maybe tomorrow," she said.

"Maybe tomorrow."

They ate together quietly. The next day, everything changed.

-

Emily awoke to a throbbing pain behind her right eye that sapped her strength and rendered her memory hazy. She had no idea where she was, beyond the fact that she was trapped in what felt horribly like a glass specimen jar. Something grey and chitinous supported her body, and beyond the glass she could see the impression of a cavernous room. A fire crackled, close and large enough that she could feel the heat against her body even though she couldn't see the flames themselves. She tried hammering on the glass, but it was an inch thick and resolute, and she gave up before she bruised herself.

There was no way out.

She had been in the Wide, the lower city market in Baldur's Gate, looking for fresh bread. The sky had cracked open overhead and something great and terrible had blotted out the sun. The memories rushed back to her in a flood of fear and panic: trying to run and getting shoved down by the crowds, people bursting into clouds of ash around her, and then the icy chill of something dark and cold against the back of her neck. She had time to think 'mind flayers', and then she was gone.

Something under Emily's pod jolted, and she felt the entire ship rock to the side with a groaning sound that almost seemed alive. The coffin lid hissed, and the acrid smell of sulphur and oil filled her nose - so thick she felt as though she could bite down on it. Emily shoved against the glass one more time and was so relieved when it slid up and away from her that she forgot about the poisonous reek of the air for a moment. She stumbled forwards on unsteady legs and fell out of the pod.

The vessel was in bad shape. A hole gaped in the wall, so large that Emily was nervous of falling out of it if she got too close. Outside, she could see swirling red storm clouds and jagged obsidian pillars floating a hundred feet above the ground. Her blood ran cold and her mouth turned dry. She had read enough about the Blood War to know where she was: Avernus. The Hells.

A flurry of fire and wings burned past the hole in the window and Emily felt the ship shudder again in response. It was under attack, and she was stuck on board. At the very least she wanted to find somewhere to hide before the hellions tore any more holes in the walls. Turning, Emily started towards the part of the room that looked most like an exit - a vile, twisted sphincter in the opposite wall - and made it halfway there before the glimmer of pearlescent orange eyes stopped her in her tracks. The mind flayer stared up at her from the floor, unblinking. The four thick tentacles that spewed from where a humanoid mouth would be were still. Its probing digits were limp. Dead. She breathed a sigh of relief, and was about to hurry on when she saw the other body - not a mind flayer, but an elf, dressed for the city in a fine, colourful doublet, sprawled awkwardly on their back. Emily could see from the rise and fall of their chest that they were still alive, and for the first time in twenty-five years she considered deserting her duty as a cleric of Ilmater. It would be so much easier to leave this stranger to the mercy of the Hells and leave. Instead, Emily steeled herself and picked her way gingerly to their side. The ground around them was slick with some foul bile that made her retch, but she kneeled by their head and carefully shook their shoulders until they stirred.

"Please wake up," she whispered. Her voice wouldn't be audible over the wind rushing in through the hole, but she still didn't dare risk speaking too loudly.

The elf moaned and lifted their head.

"Careful," Emily cautioned, trying to stop them rushing to their feet. "I think you hit your head."

"Something happened to my head alright," the elf grumbled as they sat up. Emily noticed too late the rapier on the ground next to them, and before she could react it was back in the elf's hand. She half expected an attack, but none came.

"Do you know what happened?" she ventured, once she had helped the elf to their feet.

The elf gestured at a shattered basin the size of her cottage fireplace. The briny bile on the floor oozed from it. "I touched something that didn't want to be touched," they explained.

"I meant about how we got here," Emily clarified.

"Not a clue," the elf said, their eyes searching the ground for something. "You don't see a violin around here do you? I had it when I woke up."

Emily stared at them blankly for a moment. "You're worried about a musical instrument? Now?"

"Aha! There you are," the elf said, picking up their violin from the floor and brushing it off against their sleeve. It didn't do much to clean off the brine and silvery mind flayer blood, but they seemed satisfied. "This is much more than a mere instrument," they said as they fiddled with the tuning pegs. "It's my muse, my weapon, and my most loyal companion." They gave Emily a deep bow, accompanied by a flourish on the newly tuned instrument. "Mellephora Lallorē, artisan extraordinaire and bard of consummate ability."

"Uh… Emily. Of Rivington."

Mellephora paused for a moment, as if they expected more, and then nodded politely. "Baldur's Gate," they said, with a touch of their hand to their chest. "Now, Emily of Rivington, I believe it's time we - ah!"

Something lurched in Emily's head and suddenly she was looking at herself from the outside - from Mellephora's eyes. Thoughts flickered in her mind and it took her a moment to realise they weren't her own: whatever had joined them was giving her a peek into Mellephora's brain. Their confidence was an act they dearly wanted to believe. When they looked at Emily, the phrase 'lost pup' drifted through their mind. And then, as abruptly as it had started, the connection ceased.

"Hells," Mellephora gasped, clutching at their head. Emily felt like her brain was going to burst, and she was acutely aware of a sensation like something wriggling behind her eye.

"Gods, what was that?" she managed to hiss through the pain.

Mellephora groaned and straightened up. "Must be the parasite."

"Parasite?"

Mellephora paused. "The mind flayers… how can I put this delicately? - they put vile little worms in our heads, I'm afraid."

Emily reeled in horror and disgust. "What? Why?"

Mellephora opened their mouth to reply, but was cut short by another violent rumble as something below them exploded.

"Suffice it to say, we don't want them there. Now, I think we should leave."

Emily nodded, and Mellphora strode towards the sphincter-like door, which peeled open as they approached. If Emily didn't know better from her trip behind the elf's eyes, she would be convinced by their sure steps and confident air. She hurried after them.

-

With their new companion trailing behind them, Mellephora advanced deeper into the nautiloid and tried to keep their mind off the tadpole in their head, but it proved easier said than done. Stepping through the next strange organic door, Mellephora and Emily found a huge section of the hull blasted away by fire and claws, and through the damage they could see what was laying siege to the vessel: red dragons, ridden by wiry humanoid figures Mellephora couldn't make out properly. They were squinting into the distance when Emily cried out a warning. Mellephora's gaze shot up in time to see a blur of armour soaring overhead, and a second later there was a sword point an inch from their eye.

"Abominations!" a voice hissed from behind the sword, and Mellephora lifted their eyes to look at her. "This is your end!"

Her green skin and pointed ears made her look almost like a fellow - if slightly serrated - wood-elf, but her flat, bat-like nose and the strange reptilian look of her eyes made it clear she was something else entirely. Before any of them could speak, their minds collided.

A red dragon. A silver sword. Gaik thralls. Planes beyond reckoning and battles through alien landscapes. A wood-elf and a human. A tadpole.

Mellephora felt themselves spat out of the stranger's mind and blinked away the pain rattling in their brain.

"Tsk'va, you are no thralls," the woman said, recovering much faster from the bout of pain than Mellephora or Emily. "Vlaakith blesses me this day! Together, we might survive."

"Vlaakith?" Emily said, more than a trace of uncertainty in her voice. "You're githyanki?"

"I am your only chance of survival," the stranger answered. "Come, we must fight together."

"Fight?" Emily asked, all but quaking in her boots.

The githyanki gestured. The sphincter bulkhead ahead had been torn through and inside a dozen imps tore at the flesh of a dead Mind Flayer and a barely-living thrall as he tried to fight them off. "They are between us and our freedom," she said, and then set off at a run. "Htak'a!" she cried as she plunged into the fray.

"We're not going to follow her, are we?" Emily asked. Her wet blue eyes were wide with fear, but it was the only way forward.

"Just keep your head down. Find a weapon too, if you can."

"Oh Gods," Emily whispered, but Mellephora didn't give her time to panic and ran after the githyanki.

-

Emily had never seen combat before, and within seconds she hoped never to see it again. The githyanki's sword cleaved an imp almost perfectly in half while strange blue and white strands of magic swirled around Mellephora's violin as they played, stopping only to insult a creature with such ferocity that it keeled over and died. The imps and their cambion masters had carved their way through the organic hull, leaving great tears and welts that oozed blood onto the floor. Emily stayed as close as she could to what remained of the walls as the fight raged, hoping she could go unnoticed. While she was cowering, a flicker of movement ahead caught her eye: she was sure something had just flitted across the balcony above her, but when she looked there was nobody there.

The snarl of an imp forced her to look back at the carnage, and she realised with horror that one of the creatures had spotted her and decide she was to be its next victim. The githyanki took a swing at it, but it swept out of the way of her blade with a swish of bat-like wings and then it was bearing down on Emily, scimitar raised and teeth bared. It was too late to scream, and she wouldn't give the hellion the satisfaction of hearing her fear. Instead, she closed her eyes and tried to find peace in the embrace of Ilmater. Death did not come. Instead, Emily heard a wet thud and and the imp wailing - a sound that was more pathetic than frightening. She risked a peek out of one eye and quickly wished she hadn't - the creature was reeling and whining, fingers grasping uselessly at a dagger that had pierced through its forehead. Emily didn't have to wonder for long how it had got there: with a flurry of dark cloth a figure dropped down from the balcony above and landed, blade first, on the top of the imp's head. It died with a wet gurgle and sunk to the bloody floor, the last flutter of its wings bringing her saviour gently to the ground.

[doll-r-t]

The Lost Pearl (Re-write)

Chapter 1-3

TW: angst, mention of war and blood

Word Count: 15k

The Lost Pearl

Prologe

It was over. The war was won. 

The seas had settled, no longer were the storms harsh, and the sky dark. A breath of relief could be heard throughout the kingdom. But soon enough, the bells that signaled the victory of the united settlements stopped, and the silence settled in. It was compressing the air, making it sweltering hot. Not even the breeze of the saltwater and the gentle waves of the seaside could ease the pain of grief. So many men were lost. And it was not over yet. The world you new destroyed and the ones who survived grabbling to rebuild it. But how could you rebuild a world that was destroyed by war? Not even the Kingdom of Kingdoms, which seemed untouchable, had been spared by the enemy. And the enemy had forced the Woodland people out of their isolation of world politics, and they joined your people in the fight. 

The City of Stones was the capital of the Kingdom of Kingdoms. Located into the northwest lands spanning out into midlands which was called Velinemorion. It was called Kingdom of Kingdoms as it was united with Velinemorion (the capital Velinor) and the Southern Sea (the capital The Pearl), once kingdoms of its own before a war hundreds of years ago. The Southern Sea, located at southwest reaching out along the southern lands, bordering at its most southeast point the Wasteland a desert with no soil to cultivate food. And Velinemorion was at the north east border. The Woodlands, a kingdom that had isolated itself from the outside world for many decades, was located in the most northeastern Part of the World. Its terrain was diverse. In the southern part of the land it had woods so thick no sunlight could shine through. While mountains and hills litter its northern parts. However in the middle, the grass ruled the earth, miles and miles of crop fields. Cultivated for hundreds of years. 

And now all of you would rebuild this world together.

Chapter 1: The Aftermath

You saw no smoke in the sky anymore, storm clouds that had lingered throughout the war bathing everything gray had slowly disintegrated. Now with the sun shining again you could see the destruction of the land clearly. The houses bombed to rubles, Markets torn apart by raiders, cut down fruit trees. You sight deeply, turning away from the destruction you saw below your balcony, walking off into the castle. Yes, the war was won but now the reconstruction started. Who knows how long it would take and how hard it would be with so many lost people and the remaining ones grieving. The crop fields were destroyed, and the fish were scared off from the wars on sea. Yet, the war was won, you kept repeating to yourself. You made it, you got through and the Pearl was still standing. Your father and brothers would come home soon. You could still not believe that they had survived it. 

Breathing in deeply you put the silver net over your hair, pinning it in place with glass needles adorned with pearls. A gift from your father when you were fifteen. It was such a long time ago. Back then you had so many dreams. Admittedly, childish ones, you now knew. You had dreamed of finding a handsome lord, marriage, children, and a happy life at court. Sitting still and smiling being awed at in a beautiful dress. Acting coy with any man complimenting you, fully knowing how beautiful you were. Laughing with your friends and gossiping about the newest scandal. You almost laughed at that naive young girl but you felt sorry for her. She did not know what was to come. The terrible things she would see. And the things she would have to do.

Your father had gotten you the pearls for your pins for your fifteenth birthday and the war had started three years later. Just when you were off age, getting ready for suitors. You stared into your eyes searching them for the young woman you once were. Shaking your head you straighten your spine. Breathing in deeply you pictured all your emotions of grief, sadness and desperation. Picturing them as different things that you had found along the beach. You visualized picking them up and throwing them as far as you could into the sea. Waiting until the water had swallowed them whole. Opening your eyes, slowly, you let the familiar emptiness take over yourself. Whispering to yourself: “The people are only as strong as their leader.” You had no idea how often you said this to yourself. It must have been thousands of times. But it gave you strength. Reminding yourself of your role in the war. 

Brushing your hands down your dress you made sure it sat straight and proper on your body. As the outside should never portray the struggle within. Silently you thanked your etiquette teacher for drilling this into you. Once you were satisfied you walked out of your chamber. It was early still but no rest for the wary. You had tasks to do. Walking along the corridor down the stairs to the Foye. Maids and servants were running around, getting ready for guests and of course your father. Imrahil, High prince of the Southern Sea. Most people just called the palace the Pearl. It was made of white marble, shimmering faint pink in the sunlight. It was truly a beautiful place. Not that you had given it much thought. What is beauty worth when all the people are dead who could admire it? Leaving the Foye, you took the left corridor down deeper into the Palace. Swiftly you reached your study, well your father's study, without being stopped. It was a relief you did not want to engage in silly talks. Maria, the Head of maids, was making such a fuss. You could practically hear her say: “Oh, what linen should we use? The white or blue? Which would your father be more pleased about?” As if it mattered, not after everything. Sighing, you sat behind the dark oak desk. You were too harsh on Maria, she was a sweet old lady. She had helped raise you after your mother’s death and was a constant in your life that you were happy about. She just wanted to hold on to normality. Something you had abandoned a long time ago. Rubbing your forehead you began to review the many letters covering the desk.

Soon enough it was midday and a maid brought you something to eat. You acknowledged her with a nod. The steam of the dish was wafting over to you. It smelled delicious but you could not eat, not yet. You had so many letters from people asking for grain, and stone to repair their houses. Troubles in towns and worries of majors from settlements. When the war started, your father, Imrahil, had been called to the City of Stones. Some people just called it Starlight as it shone brightest in the dark. The city was a beacon for people, for a better life. Built in the biggest mountain in all the lands, the moon would illuminate it guiding lost people towards it.

Your father was there to counsel the King on the war. The different Sea-raider tribes from the Southern Sea, who had plagued your people for decades, had united under one banner to attack the Pearl and the City of Stones. The Pirates made an alliance with the Dunklings, or the lost ones, as your people called them. Lost ones, who had no home, no land of their own wandering the earth killing and plundering on their way. The Lost People had united to attack the northern region, Woodland. The Woodland was a once-close ally to the City of Stones before the broken treaty of Darrah almost seventy years ago. And now the King and the Captain of the north were trying to rebuild the once close friendship.

Soon after your father had left your brothers were called to defend their kingdom. Only your eldest brother, Armand, remained. He was entrusted by your father to lead the city and defend it. Armand had a wife, Aishwarya and a newborn son, Ibrah. You liked his wife very much. She stood up to your brother, who had the tendency to dismiss any female voice in favor of a male. Following his duties and the rules the high society had established rigorously.  

You glanced at the window. A soft breeze was coming in, soothing your overheated skin. Trying to remember your fathers and brothers faces, it became more difficult with everyday passing. Your nephew should be around four or five now. You had lost track. It had been so long since you had seen him. The only relief was the knowledge that your sister in law and nephew were safe. Far from battle. 

The City of Stone had a secret settlement hidden within the mountain not far from it. Most people did not know that. It was sealed, most ladies of the court and the heirs of the court were sent there at the beginning of the war. You were supposed to go too… 

More than 4 years ago:

You had helped Aishwarya, your sister-in-law, into the carriage. Closing your eyes you had held back tears. It was possible this was the last time you would see her. Her smile, loud laughter and the rattling of her many bangles on her arms. She had begged you to come with her. You knew she was scared. You should have been scared too. Aishwarya was a trained warrior before she married your brother Armand. If someone like her was scared then you should be terrified. But all you felt was sadness and slowly over time it turned into an emptiness that came to consume you. If you were to die you would do it here, with your people, where you grew up, the place you loved. It just was not right to go, to hide until the war was over. Leaving because you were privileged enough while there were children stuck in villages being slaughtered. 

“I would have done the same,” Aishwarya said, “but-.” Looking down at her boy. “I know.” You reassured her with a squeeze to her arm, kissing your nephew's head. “Take care sister. We will see each other again.” With these words, you shut the door and the carriage took off.

Rubbing your temple you sat back in your chair. You should feel relieved that the war was over. Your people had won and your family would be home again. You could return to mindlessly wandering about, having picnics, and gossiping about boys. Only you found you did not want to. You were happy with the role you had. Commander over the City. You pushed your chest out, holding your head high, proudly. Yes, you were the Commander of the Pearl, it brought a smirk to your face. You thought yourself untouchable. 

After your father and your two brothers had left your brother had been in charge, installed as Commander of the City, for over a year. But then your brother, Armand, had been called away. At first, the advisers took the place of the Commander, debating on what to do. Yet, that was all they were doing. Debating and fighting over what to do. Yet, when they failed to respond quickly to an attack via sea you had enough. You took control.

A little more than 4 years ago:

The next morning you wandered in the great hall, halting all talk. You stood in front of the table they sat at. Slowly making your way around the big marble stone table. Towards the tallest chair - the throne of the highest ranking. It was made of a slightly darker stone with gold ornaments pressed onto it. It was laced integratedly to mimicking waves. You halted in front of the High chair, your father would usually sit in. You mustered everyone, looking them straight in the eye. 

Slowly you took a step back. The silver sleeves of your gown swinging softly. You once more mustered the men in front of you. Reveling in the feeling of the thick, shocked silence. Then slowly you sat down. You sat straight, head high on the throne. Your arms laid on the armrest making yourself appear broader than you were. The throne was almost too big for you. The screams of your people were still ringing in your ears. Your eyes could hardly contain your furry. You had worn your crown, as it was your right as the highest-ranking princess in the Pearl, the heaviness of it reassured you. Pinned in place. Not moving, steady on your head, not an inch out of place.

You could see the shock in the faces of the old men. Not even your brother Armand had dared to sit in the high chair. He would only be allowed to when your father was dead. But you did not care for formalities. To do what was the right and proper way to conduct yourself. Which normally you mean for you, not to even be near a council meeting. All rules were bombed to rubbles by the canons of your enemies. Yes you could not care less,  the rage you felt was far worse. The screams of the people and the boom of the cannons steadily ringing louder in your ears. 

Abruptly you turned to a servant near to you. “Open the windows.” He immediately complied. Making his way hurriedly away from the table towards the thick curtains, partially drawn close, on the left side of the room. Pulling them aside sun came through the four meter tall door leading to a balcony. He went on to open the rest of the curtains among the wall left and then the right side. Revealing four tall widows. You had turned to the table waiting for the boy to finish watching the men in front of you intensely. You still had no expression on your face. Some men were about to say something but you held up your hand.

Nonetheless one of the higher ranking advisers, with white strainy hair and sun-damaged skin spoke up. “My Princess, it is not appropriate for you to be here.” His voice carried the message clearly. Here meant not only on the throne but in this room taking up space acting as if you could have anything to say. Your lip twitches, but not in amusement. Breathing in deeply, trying to quell the rage in you, so as to not lose your composure you leaned forward looking every single one in the eyes. “Turn to the windows.” By now the room was illuminated by the morning sun. Confused, they did what you said. “A red sun.” You said matter of fact as if you did not need to say more. Slowly you got up, wandering around the table towards the man who had spoken. The seam of your dress flowing behind you. The only noise in the room was the clicking of your shoes on the stone floor.

Once again after you let the silence linger you exclaimed “ A red sun.” This time louder, angrier, and looking directly at the man who had dared speak up earlier. After a few seconds you mustered every single man that you passed by while making your way around the table before going back to the throne. Confusion written on their faces. Ending up in front of the throne again, you finally showcased your anger on your face, not just your voice. “A red sun! A sunrise bathed in blood. The blood of our people because you were too incompetent to make a decision. Is that not right?” You hissed out. You turned to the advisor on your left. He looked at you in shock but seeing your anger he bowed his head. “Where was the strength of the Pearl yesterday? Where was the leadership we stood for? Where were you?” You had leaned over the table. Your voice echoing in the room, filling every corner of it. No one gave a response, too shocked to see a woman speak in such a manner. Releasing a breath you shook your head, walking over to the man that had spoken before. “Tell me, Lord Bergen, where exactly should I be? In my chamber embroidering dresses? Searching for a husband that can do the talking for me? Crying in fear and panic running into the arms of a man?” You smirked, not truly wanting him to answer it. His hands were gripping his armrests, hardly containing his furry at being spoken to like that by a woman. The smirk on your face slowly disappeared as you leaned in, getting right into his face. Bearing your teeth to him like a wolf ready to rip out its opponent's throat. His eyes were glazed over with anger. But that is what you wanted. “I would do such things but unfortunately I do not see any men here worthy enough.”

With that, you turned around going back to sit on the throne. “From now on I will be Commander of the City.” Protest rang out. “SILENCE. Since you are so incompetent I see no other choice. And may I remind you I am the princess of the Southern Sea. High Princess of the City of Stone by my father's line. First in generations. Heiress to the throne of the Sea and Stone if my brothers and father do not return and the king dies.” This quietened the men. Yet, the silence was overshadowed by the blood rushing in your ears, your heart pumping wildly. You were sure your hands would shake from the adrenaline coursing through your body. But when you straightened yourself and sat forward on the throne your hands were steady. You had never felt more powerful than in this moment. The look of utter shock, disdain in some faces and uneasiness in others was addicting. You had never been looked at like this before. Like you were seen for the first time. Not as something pretty to be admired. A glance that was spared your way because of a beautiful dress. But because of your words. Because you did not allow for them not to look at you, not to hear you, not to see you.

  "Good.'' You interrupted the silence. “Now that we have established who is in charge here I will establish the rules. If I find that you are plotting against me or my people I will personally execute you. If you speak to me in a manner that I find not befitting you will lay your head to rest in the dungeons until you have learned your lesson. If you withhold things from me you will receive the mark of a traitor.” Slightly leaning forward.  “No one will ever give you work again. You will be an outcast.” Breathing in you settled more comfortably on the throne. “Is that understood?” They nodded in agreement. “If anyone wishes to leave the council then say so. I will not hold it against you and no punishment will befall you.” You waited until finally, the man that had addressed you earlier stood up. Looking you in the eyes with one last look of disdain before leaving the hall. Two more men followed. “Very well.” You spared them no second glance, grabbing the papers that lay in front of the advisor to your left.” “Now, business.'' You looked over the papers quickly. Even though you knew what your first order had to be. Laying down the documents to read later you went on “We need to rebuild our defenses and a rapid response team to combat intruders before the cavalry arrives.”

This little encounter still brought a smile to your face. The power you felt was a rush, and the rush never stopped. It was like you were made to lead. The council soon noticed it too. They came to you willingly asking for advice or informing you of rumors they heard. Although you suspected it was only so because they were glad that they had a leader again, even if it was a woman. They were advisors after all. They were not meant to lead. Not like you were. Even so, soon whispers began to arise, the heart of the pearl they named you. You paid it no mind although it satisfies you greatly. Not until it was announced your father and brothers would come home. At first, you were happy, and relieved but soon reality settled in. When your father was home no one would be interested in hearing what you got to say. He would take charge again leaving you to your ‘womanly duties’. Throwing down the letter you had read over and over and yet still could not remember anything from it, you leaned back in your seat. Rubbing at your eyebrow. Looking around the office. Shelves filled with books, a painting of the seaside your mother had made hung across the desk on the wall. You felt ashamed of the mixed feelings you have towards your father's return but could not help feeling this way. A knock pulled you out of your thoughts. An excited Maria stuck her head through the door. “It is time. They are almost here.” Giving her a forced smile you nodded in thanks. She closed the door, her hurried footsteps echoing through the corridors. Many ladies of the court had returned last week. But your family was still needed in the City of Stones advising the King. But now they were on their way, almost home. Maybe half an hour away. They always sent a rider to inform the court to prepare the welcome wine. You laid your hand on the table, feeling its smooth wood, spreading your fingers. Taking it in as if it was for the very first time, or more accurately the last. You straightened your spine, held your head high as if a crown sat atop of it. Remembering the rush of adrenaline from your first day of ruling, wishing you could stay here forever. However, this was an enemy you could not beat. Resolutely you stood up, making your way out of the office, down the left corridor back to the Foye. The servants and maids were lined up by the entrance waiting for any instructions you might have.

“Is the wine and bread ready?” The servant nodded. “What about the chambers? Is everything in order?” The maid nodded. You should have asked them sooner. Should have taken better care of running the household. It would be your duty until your sister in law was here. Before she had married your brother it had been your duty but after it befell to her as the wife of the future High King. Aishawarya had insisted on staying with Armand in the City of Stones and returning only when he would. But Ibrah, your nephew got sick and so she would have to stay behind a couple of days until he was fit for travel. Armand could not delay; he had to return with your father to the Pearl. 

You asked the maids and servants a couple more questions before moving along down the hall. It was not like the staff would be able to do anything now. Your father was almost here. Turning around you looked at the decorations, not much but to be expected after a war. War does not care for flowers or anything growing. At least the cook was preparing a good meal that should satisfy him. At the thought of food, you remembered the untouched meal in your fathers study. You hated to waste food since it was so scarce now. Yet, you hardly had time for things like eating. Maria had often scolded you on your lack of self care. 

“And who will lead us if you are to starve to death?” She had her hands on her hips, her eyebrows raised. As much as you wanted to be mad at the plump woman with her chipped nails and dirty apron, for her impertinent speech, you did not have it in you. She had been a second mother to you. “Besides, you are horribly mood when you do not eat.” She went on to jest. It was true. You were not good company when your blood sugar dropped.

Maybe that is why you were so irritated now.

Chapter 2: A Father’s return 

Just as you were about to check on the dining hall the sound of a horn caught your attention. Stepping out of the Foye onto the stone platform that oversees the city, beneath you, you saw riders in white and blue riding towards the gate. The steps leading up to the stone platform had suffered some damage but were the least destroyed part of the city so you did not care to repair them. If your father had an issue with what you had done that would be his problem, from now on. Swallowing hard you tried to get rid of the sour taste in your mouth. The calls from the townspeople could be heard throughout, signaling the high prince and princes were in the city, riding up to the palace. You closed your eyes for a moment taking it in. Your chest was tight and it was hard to breathe. How long had you longed for this? Wishing the war was over yet better all a dream? Then what was that feeling in you?

Just when you opened your eyes your father rounded the corner. He looked older than you remembered, his dark hair had streaks of white in them and his beard looked like a mixture of salt and pepper. You wanted to run to him, fling yourself in his arms. Making him spin you around like the times when you were a kid to chase away the tightness in your chest. He only ever spun you around in the privacy of your chambers. It was not proper to show such affection in public, according to the high society at court. Yet, you stayed rooted to your spot. You were not the impulsive little girl anymore, who demanded to be hugged, anyway. You have learned a great deal of control over the past years. Yet, still you could feel tears clawing at your eyes demanding to fall. Taking in another breath you suppressed your them, straightened up, and put on a polite smile.

Your father swiftly dismounted his horse, striding towards you, taking off his helmet. Passing it to a servant carelessly never taking his eyes off you. Now you could clearly see the dark lines underneath his eyes and the wrinkles around his mouth. He looked so different. It made you wonder. Did you change?

“My beloved daughter.” Were the first words he spoke. Even his voice was different, instead of the dark smoothness, he sounded hoarse. Slowly, as if it was a dream he lifted his hand and caressed your face. You closed your eyes for a moment enjoying your father's warmth. Then he did something that took you by surprise. He hugged you tightly to him, releasing a deep breath. Whispering again and again. “My beloved daughter.” You did not know how to react to the open affection. Seconds went by and he was still hugging you to him so slowly you lifted your arms gripping his elbows, giving them a tight squeeze before stepping back. Your heart was beating widely when finally you gasped out: “Father, welcome home.” You had tried to keep a blank face but the emotions overwhelmed you. So before he could see the conflict in your eyes you turned around. First taking a cup of wine and then a piece of olive bread from the servants and giving it to him. He was still looking at you, with tired eyes and an unreadable expression. The same unreadable expression you have mastered now. After a couple of seconds, he broke his gaze, taking the wine and turned toward the crowd beginning his speech. However you were still rooted in your spot next to him. It was not common for someone to stand next to the High Prince while he gave his speech unless it was another ruler. But he had not said anything to you and it came so naturally for you now to stand there. Not even noticing that you did it.

While your father spoke you let your own eyes wander. You could see your three older brothers. Armand, the oldest and most dutiful. Ethos, the middle child and the most gentle one. Lastly, Amros the youngest of your brothers and the wildest. Armos had his arm in a sling, Ethos had a scar running along his face, and Armand had bruises littering his hands and face.

They were mustering you with the same intensity your father had, so you averted your gaze. You had heard nothing from what the High Prince said but could imagine. It was always the same. You had given this speech too. At once your brothers came up the stairs, and were handed wine that they promptly drank. Your father turned and went into the palace, Armand followed immediately as did you. Walking next to him. He ignored you, but hastened his steps. Realizing that it was not your place anymore to walk amongst the high ranking you slowed your steps. Letting Ethos take over you. Before the war you had always walked behind your brothers. Now this was something you would have to get used to again. Acting according to your station. Which in this case meant walking last. Suddenly an arm was flung over your shoulders, making you flinch and reach for your dagger hidden in your dress. Before you could do anything, Amros' voice rang out. “My, my, my!'' He had the same jesting voice as you remembered. “Sister, have you grown?” He grinned at you. You could not help but fall into the old pattern of rolling your eyes. He was only a year older than you so you two always got into trouble together. “Oh, oh. Do not let Maria see you roll your eyes she will get the wooden spoon.” He wagged his finger in your face. You elbowed him in the side making him flinch harder than necessary. You made a note that he was also injured in his ribs. He let go of you, sending a winking your way before sauntering to the next servant grabbing another cup of wine.

The feast was long and awkward. You had felt so uncomfortable that you had made a beeline for the throne. It was where you felt most secure. Yet, when you were about to sit down you saw the shocked faces of the people around you and the silence accompanied by it. It caught you off guard, making you aware that your father was standing next to you. You quickly straightened again and gave a quick bow as if you just wanted to show your respect again. With every step you took you felt heavier until you almost collapsed onto your chair from the sheer weight of it all. You had moved three chairs down. Sitting on the fourth, and the sour feeling in your mouth returned with full force. Armand had the first chair next to your father. Then Ethos and then Amros. It stung. Now that the war was over you were just a woman again. 

Your father settled into his office quickly. Amros was already womanizing again and Armand was looking after his duties. Ethos was gone for the most part you had no idea where he was and you did not care. You struggled to fit into the normal again. It made you angry, you felt powerless, like a puppet just a thing to look at and pick up whenever one pleased. The adviser still greeted you but did not seek your advice anymore. And as the weeks went by the greetings turned into polite nods, expected of them due to your station. You felt lost, like a stranger in the only home you had ever known. No one needed you anymore. Instead of leaving your chamber before sunrise and returning long after dark you only left for supper. Where your father insisted you eat together like a family.

A knock startled you. “Come in.” You called out. Your father's head appeared behind the white door to your chambers. You put your book down in question. You were still in your white nightgown seeing no sense in getting dressed. Since your father had gotten back, you had spent most of your days in your room staring out of the window or pretending to read. “Hello, my little flower. May I come in?” You nodded pointing to a chair across from you. His walk was assured as usual but his eyes betrayed him. Something was up. You immediately straightened. Did something happen? Did someone attack again? He sat down, looking out the window. You waited for him to speak. He breathed heavily, finally turning to you. He took the book out of your hand and laid it on the table. Then he wrapped his big, rough hands around yours. You made note of the scars littering his knuckles. Finally, he spoke: “I wanted to thank you, and apologize.” You looked at him in question. He caressed your hands. “My beloved daughter, my advisers made me aware of what you have done for us. For our people.” You looked down at your lap not able to hold his eyes. “You were strong when we needed you the most. I just wish you did not have to do it.” “Father-.” He held his hand up silencing you. “After your mother died I have to admit  I was worried. I had no idea how to raise a daughter.”

You did not, you thought, Maria did. “And I am sorry if I have not given you the acknowledgment you deserved.” Your heart skipped a beat at the admittance. Finally, he saw. Surely word must have reached him of your actions. How you had successfully defended the city. Maybe he would ask you to be on his council for the after-war reparations. After all, you had already started planning. You grabbed his hand lightly. Urging him to go on. “But I want you to know that you do not need to be strong anymore. I will take care of everything again. I do not want you to worry.” Your back stiffened. Your grip loosened on his hands. A dull ache sets in your body, making your bones heavy. You looked straight ahead focusing on the brown freckles on his nose rather than his eyes, trying to keep a neutral face and not betray the anger you felt towards him right at this moment. How could he do this to you? Could he not see how much you had grown? How you were not the little girl anymore with silly thoughts, running around with your girlfriends. How you were a woman capable of leading. Maybe even better than Armand, even though you would never dare say this out loud. At once you pulled your hands back, standing up. “You do not need to worry about me, father.” Your tone held an edge at the word father, almost spitting it out. 

You picked up your book and walked towards your bookshelf on the other side of the room. You needed to compose yourself before you went on. With a steady voice you claimed “I just did my part in the war.” He watched you go your spine stiff and your face blank. “Yes, yes you did.” He mumbled to himself, looking down at the floor. He felt a sadness settle into him.

The first time after so many years when he finally saw his daughter he did not recognize you. He just saw a woman, with hard lines across her mouth and sharp eyes. Not the bright-eyed mischievous girl you were before he left. It broke his heart when he realized the woman with the hard lines was his daughter. 

He stood up, and hesitantly made his way over to the door. He stayed for a moment, turning around, and walked towards you. Gently he kissed the side of your head and left. You had not turned to him.

Your father walked down the corridor away from you with dread in his heart. His daughter had lost her spark and it was his responsibility to bring it back. And he knew how. Imrahil went straight to his study, barking at his guards that no one was to disturb him. He put all the letters, strewn across his desk, aside. They could wait. Pulling out another sheet of paper he began to write. My dear friend,... 

When he was at the City of Stone the attacks were vicious. Blood, smoke and screams everywhere. It smelled of death and he had yet to get the smell out of his nose. It came back to him picture after picture. The desk in front of him slowly disappears, replaced by red stained grass and carnage. His hands held the writing feather tightly, almost breaking it in two. Stabbing the paper as if it was an enemy. His ears rang and he had to close his eyes for a second, breathing deeply.

3 Months ago: The Battle of The City of Stones

The enemies had broken through the last line of defense. There were just too many. He tried to keep an eye out for his sons but had lost them early on. Panting he leaned against a broken stone wall trying to catch his breath for a second. He tried to remember his daughter’s face, the way she laughed and even though he could not picture her, did not know what she looked like now, his daughter brought him great joy and strength. He grabbed his sword tight and rounded the corner. Immediately he was engaged in the battle again. Even if it was a lost cause he would still fight. Not because he hated the enemy but because he loved his family, his sons, his daughter, his grandson and his late wife. Even though they would lose the war, kill his people and everything he held dear to him they could not take his love in all its forms away from him. He would carry that into the next life and the life after. 

Imrahil tumbled to the ground, a dagger stuck in his right shoulder. He could taste blood in his mouth, the smoke burned in his lungs. This was it, he thought. Goodbye my sons, goodbye daughter. I wish I could have seen you one last time. But I am coming to you now, my beloved wife. He had lost the battle. The enemy raised his sword ready to plunge it into his heart when suddenly his opponent gave a terrible screech. His attacker lost the tight grip on his sword. The leg that was holding Imrahil down stumbled off him. Then they heard it, the horns of the Woodland men. He had never heard anything like it. The sound went through his entire body leaving goosebumps behind. I am sorry my beloved wife but our reunion will have to wait. Quickly he reached for his own sword and struck his enemy down. The Woodland men came to their aid and not long after the first horn was blown the battle for the City of Stones, the beacon of hope for his people, was won. 

One thing he imminently picked up upon with the Woodland people was that they were not people of false politeness. They were strong, direct, and had no regard for the structured court life. The men were equal. The leader slept with his men in tents outside of the city although he was offered a warm bed inside the palace. They were simple and straightforward people. Ashamedly, Imrahil thought he would have looked down upon this in his youth but now he respected it. The memory of the horrified looks of higher ranking monarchs when they saw how unkempt and almost wild the north men were brought a smile to his face. 

Imrahil’s study:

Nodding, Imrahil opened his eyes. Reaching for a new, un-stabbed sheet of paper he smirked at his plan. You might not like it but it would do you good. 

A fortnight later he received a reply. Breathing a sigh of relief he got up making his way to your room. You hardly came out anymore. And everytime he saw you, you had this blank face. Even his younger son Amros had picked up on it. Even though he was the most oblivious of his children. Although his sons had seen great horror they still smiled and laughed. Even if just for a moment to drive away darkness with joy. You on the other hand did not. You politely raised your lips, but it looked more like a grimace than a smile. Imrahil sighed. Your father could not remember the last time you laughed. Truly laughed, not the false politeness reserved for high society. It was a sound he deeply missed. He knocked on your door. Your empty voice called out for him to enter and as always the emptiness in your voice resulted in an ache in his heart. Yet, this time it made him more resolute. Breathing in, he entered with a small smile on his face. “Good morning, my daughter.” You were dressed in a light blue gown sitting at your usual spot by the window. 

He went across your room sitting in the chair opposite of you. He had to proceed carefully with his plan. “I just got a letter.” 

You raised your head looking at him in question. Good he at least had your attention. He leaned in as if to tell you a secret as he had done when you were a child, even if what he had to say was anything but a secret. It always made your eyes sparkle. You were always eager for information, of any kind. He had not realized at the time how willing you were to learn about everything, how curious and cunning you were. It was only when reports of one of his closest friends Eiden, the Head of Guards, reached him that he realized. The report talked about how you lead with sureness, a cool head and cunning unlike anything Eiden had ever seen. But now you did not lean forward. You kept looking at him with the same schooled mask of indifference. He suppressed a sigh. Clearing his throat he continued “You know my advisers called you silver tongue with a certain kind of steel. They speak highly of you and-.” He paused for a moment.

Oh Gods, since when had it gotten so hard to talk to his own daughter. Leaning back on his chair he started again. “You have grown up to be a beautiful woman. You know the ins and outs of court, you are a diplomat-” “What is this about?” You interrupted him. A couple of years ago you would not have dared to do so. But you developed into a no-nonsense woman. Your father looked at you shocked but slowly a smile formed on his lips. “Yes, your mother also did not like my rambling. But let me explain. The war destroyed many things but it also reformed our world. We once were good allies to the Woodland men and now we are again. I do not know if you know but Ceallach the sister of the leader is engaged to Eothin, your cousin.” You nodded. “Once she is married to him she will live in our court. The Woodland men do not have the same customs as we have. Therefore, I wanted to ask if you would help her?” He finished, taking a deep breath. “Help her? How?” Your face had not changed throughout your fathers rambling. Although you observed him closely. Trying to figure out where he was going with his little speech. “You know the ins and outs of court. You have lived both here and in the Stone City. You are a high princess.” He broke off for a second. Looking intently at you. “The only one.” He held up his hand silencing you before you could even attempt to speak. “And you are the only one I can trust to keep the relationship friendly. Having someone help their leader's sister in court showcases a willingness to work to form a bond. Besides-.” He looked to the side, breathing out. “We owe them. After what they did for us on the battlefield.” He broke off and you knew he would not say another word. After a few minutes of silence you finally agreed. “I’ll help her.” You said offhandedly, sipping your tea. Over the rim of your mug you watched your fathers reaction closely. You knew how it worked to sweet-talk someone into something. You just could not figure out why this was so important to him that you do so. It was true you grew up in court but so did other ladies. Your father smiled at you. “Thank you, my little flower.” He kissed the top of your head and walked towards the door. “I will send the servants to help you pack and to get you warmer clothes. It is cold in the north.” You looked at him in confusion. But before you could say anything he slipped out of your room. You released an aggravated sigh. That is why he was sweet-talking. She was not coming here, you were coming to her.

Chapter 2: The Woodlands

You sent away the servants who came to help you pack and to make a list of all the things you might need. You wanted time to think. Tapping your finger on the wooden chair you grind your teeth together. A bad habit you had acquired over the last few years. Your initial reaction was to go to your father and refuse. Set him straight that he cannot come into a home he had not been in for years, take over leadership again and send you off to make some woman a lady. How ridiculous. But the more you thought about it the more you found you wanted to go. Leave this place. It felt like a cage made out of Marble stone and the sea's side was rising. Eventually, it would drown you. You got up slowly, your joints aching from the long sitting. You walked over to your wash table picking up a white hairbrush, with gold ornaments adorned with a pink flower. Your mother used to brush your hair with this while singing to or telling you stories. You had not used it in years. Ever since your mother had died. But now you sat down, removed the pins and hairnet and brushed your hair. You wanted to hum but the sound got stuck in your throat. You closed your eyes imagining your mother’s hand holding the brush. “If the one way does not work well then you try another.” The deep but gentle voice of your mother whispered in your ear.

Softly you asked the thin air. “But what is my way mother?” Not for the first time you longed for her guidance. Suddenly you heard the horses down at the stable neighing.

Opening your eyes you went to the door calling out for your maid. It was time to pack. You were going to the north.

The ride was tedious. You said goodbye to your family over a week ago. Amros was so mad at father for sending you away. He did not understand. Your family had just got together again so why would you leave? But father had not budged and neither had you. Ethos just hugged you tightly, giving you a small smile. Armand had just nodded. You would be staying over winter so your father had sent letters to tailors in Warhorse, the Palace of the Woodlands, where you would be staying. Everything should be ready when you arrive. It was not necessary to wear warm clothes in the south so you had none, in fact you had never experienced a real winter. And no tailor here had any fabric warm enough to fashion clothing for you. You had passed the way that led to the Stone City and were now riding through small villages along the way. You would cross into Woodland territory at any moment. You had never been outside of the Kingdoms of Kingdoms. It made you a bit nervous even though you made sure not to show it. Your father had given you a carriage and you gladly accepted. The way was too long to ride for an untrained person. He sent half a dozen men with you to keep you safe until you crossed the border. Then you would be escorted by the northern men. You had heard about them growing up. They were different from your people, more wild and brutish they said. You reminded yourself they are allies now you cannot have preconceived notions about them.

Suddenly a horn sound drifted towards you. You had never heard a sound like that; it was rough almost like a war cry. You felt a rush go through you and the arms on your hair rise. The carriage halted. You looked out the carriage window but you could not see anything. “What is going on?” You called out to one of the soldiers. Where are we under attack? You thought.  Your hand drifted to your dagger. The cold metal grounding you. 

The soldier guarding you appeared at your door. “The Northmen are here, we crossed their border.” You nodded in thanks. Straightening your spine you checked if your hair was still in its net. Then stepped out of the carriage.

You were greeted by a wall of horses. Around two dozen men. You were surprised by the manpower in front of you. Why were there so many men? You’d almost think that we were still at war. 

The horses were big but the men atop them seemed even bigger. Broad, most of them with long hair covert in fur. You realized that you had not moved since seeing the men. So you made your way with ease only a woman of high rank possessed towards them. Two men dismounted the horse and came towards you and your men. They took off their helmets revealing unkempt beards. One had long blond hair with braids, while the other one had a shaved head. The one with the buzz cut stepped forward bowing slightly. You reciprocated with courtesy. The first thing you noticed about him was how dirty he was. His boots were covered in mud, as were his pants. His leather vest seemed worn. Hm, you thought, seems like the rumors were true the north men were wild. He mustered you for a second too before speaking. “My Lady, I am here to escort you back to Warhorse.” The corners of your mouth lifted a little, giving him one of the supposed polite smiles you had been taught in court. “Thank you, my lord. I am Princess Y/N. Pleased to make your acquiescence.” You had purposefully said, Princess. It was a natural response to you now to establish that you were in power, higher ranking. But your heart stopped when he said: “Pleased to meet you as well, Princess.” You did not like the tone he had used on the word Princess, like he was mocking you. But before you could say anything he straightened himself even more, he looked almost as tall as a tree now, and broad like a bear. You had to admit if you were an enemy on the battlefield you would be intimidated. 

“I am the leader of the Woodland people, Captain Syverson.” He smirked. 

Shit.

He ranked higher than you and he knew you knew it. And now your first words to the leader were scolding him for how he had addressed you. Why had you not informed yourself on what the leader looked like? Had he nothing better to do than escort someone? You had hardly cared to look at the map of the Woodlands, too preoccupied with the want to leave the Pearl. Now you were reaping the rotten fruit of your labor. 

“Shall we?” You could only nod. This was going to be a long winter. 

Chapter 3: The Riders of the North 

The first thing you noticed was the tension in the men. They hid it well, sitting straight atop their horse as if they were out for a leisure ride, but one could tell when looking at their eyes. It was hard to see them, their helmets covered most of their faces. But one glance was enough. They were watchful, almost like hawks waiting for prey. This posed the question if your allies were truly the predator or if Dunklings were hiding somewhere, thinking of you as the prey. It did not matter, you kept your eyes open too. Not just because of the danger but also because of the landscape. It was so different from home. Wide-open fields, rampaged by war but it was still here, still growing. You always admired the resistance of nature. So much had been destroyed for war, on both sides, and yet green still lay on the earth like a blanket instead of a wasteland. You thought it would be well deserved if nature stopped growing, and left people to starve and despair at the welted green blanket. On your right, the woods were dark and deep, for miles. While on the other side were hills ending in a mountain sight. You wondered if you would go up there. It would make sense to set up a camp there. High ground, good view, no place for a sneak attack. But you did not go up there, you kept straight on the fields. Your hand was still on your dagger. You had not been out in the open since the beginning of the war.

The landscape was different and you had no idea where exactly you were. If something was to happen you had no idea where to go. It made you uneasy. You held your dagger tighter, the steele dug in your hand, it reassured you. And, you wondered if you would ever stop reaching for your dagger when hearing weird noises. You spent the better part of your day looking out of the carriage. You had passed a few villages. If you could even call it that, most of them were destroyed. But the people that were still left greeted the men, and looked curiously at the carriage, you always duked away. Not ready to be seen yet by people that you knew nothing about. You had tried to find something about the Woodland people but it was not much, admittedly you had not searched very hard. Mostly it talked about how they were not people of scriptures but people of stories. They would pass down their history by word, not by writing. It was frustrating, to say the least. Even in your younger years, you were an avid reader. Your mother had always tucked you into bed and read a story cuddling you to sleep. It was only you two. Women time she called it. Sometimes she would sneak down to the kitchen with you and make you a hot chocolate and sneak sweets up to your room. She always hushed your giggles. Now you realized that it was impossible to do these things sneakily. She must have told the servants in advance to clear the path. You had stopped reading for a long time after your mother's death. Opening them but never actually starting. Now you are an avid reader again. Your father had laughed when he found out the trunks you took with you were mostly books. It made only sense to you, if they only relied on oral tradition then they would not have books so you had to bring your own.

You had not realized that your mind had wandered, not paying attention to your surroundings, too lost in your past. So when the carriage stopped you snapped back. The sun was slowly going down, but no houses were in sight. You rightened your dress and cloak, tucking the single straint that had escaped your hairnet back into it. Making yourself as presentable as possible. But no one got you. So you stayed put for a while just watching as men started to pull up tents and make fires. Great, you thought, tomorrow I will be as dirty as they are. After waiting for what felt like an eternity, you huffed, opening the carriage and got out yourself. You stepped out of the carriage, walking over to the Captain. You could feel the eyes of the men on you. Whether they were scrutinizing you or looking you up you had no care. The court in the City of Stones was far more brutal. The Captain had not yet noticed you, too busy discussing something with the man with the long blond hair.  You could not make out what they talked about. The twang in their voices was more prominent, and you struggled to understand it.

You stood a couple of feet away from them, and when you had enough of being ignored, you cleared your throat. Had they no manners? “I am sorry to interrupt Captain Syverson.” You bowed your head lightly. He turned towards you. Before you could speak again he cut you off. “I am sorry Princess. I should have come and got you. We are camping here tonight.” He began walking past you towards the tent. You sent the man with the long hair a tight-lipped smile and began following the Captain. You were not particularly fond of being interrupted, nor being made to follow like a lost puppy. But you did anyway. He walked up to one of the bigger tents. “This will be yours.” He opened the flap showing you a small bed, a bucket with water, and a small makeshift table. “The water is clean but cold.” You looked up at him, there was something in his eyes, a twinkly-like amusement, and a small smirk almost hidden behind his beard. “I hope you will have a good night here Princess.” Now it was clear to you. He was trying to get a rise out of you. Smiling politely at him you answered, in your sweetest voice. “Thank you, Captain. So thoughtful to prepare some water for washing. And to pick a place where you can put the carriage right next to my tent.” The carriage had been put further away from your tent outside of camp but if he wanted to get a rise out of you so could you. You looked at him through your lashes. “It is true what they say.” The smirk was gone from Syverson’s face. “And what is it that they say, princess?” Stepping a bit closer you smiled up at him. “You truly are a master of strategies. Setting up my tent the way it will be covered by the carriage, me not having to go down to the stream to get water or getting a cold by sleeping on the hard ground. I am truly glad to be under your care.” With that, you walked into the tent. He was trying to elicit a reaction out of you maybe for your mistake earlier. Whatever it was you would not give him the satisfaction. Syverson just smirked and shook his head.

Calling out for the men to move your carriage to your tent. As if they had nothing else to do, he thought. “So how is the princess? I hope her accommodation is to her satisfaction.” Ocre threw his long hair over his shoulder smirking at Sy. “Well, what can you say, Princesses.” Syverson shot back. Both grinning at each other. “I still do not know why you agreed to this. We don’t need a Princess wandering around, we have enough to do.” Syverson sighed his friend never held back his opinion as long as they were alone. Although he treated his men as equals he still had to make sure that they knew he was in charge. “Imrahil is my friend, we fought side by side. He helped my sister when she snuck onto the battlefield. I owe him. Besides, her cousin is my sister's fiance. No matter how much I dislike my sister's engagement plans she will need all the help she can get. You saw how the people looked at us as if we were brutes. She will need help to learn their court and what better way than a Princess.” Syverson shrugged.

Besides, he added in his head, once his sister sees the way the fine people of the court look down on her she may change her mind and not leave him. He rubbed his head walking towards the fire. He needed food. It was a long exhausting day and he just wanted to sleep for a few hours. Just as he was about to sit down and the cook Jordan handed him a plate he groaned. He was not the most gracious host, he had not helped you out of the carriage he could not not inform you of the food being ready.

He rightened himself again walking towards your tent. “Princess?”  He got no reply. “Princess?” he tried again. He yet again got no reply. Gripping his sword he entered your tent. It was empty. “Shit.”

He sprung out searching frantically for you. He should have positioned guards, he cursed. Now he lost the high Princess. If Imrahil, your father, got wind of this it would start a new war. Sweat started to moisturize his hands, clenching his jaw he tried to get his wildly beating heart under control.   A noise came out of the carriage. Running around he drew his sword ready to attack anyone. But instead, he was greeted by your behind. He halted in his step, staring at you. You had climbed onto the back of the carriage, a trunk was open and you were bent over it, nearly falling in. “In need of help, Princess?” He growled out, his temple pulsing. You yelped not having heard him. You almost fell if it was not for Syverson’s quick reflexes. He grabbed your waist holding you up. You stilled in his arms, going rigid at his touch. He quickly lifted you down, setting you, maybe a bit too roughly, on the ground again. You had a surprised expression on your face and he would laugh if he was not so angry. He stepped into your personal space. “I hope you are aware, Princess, that just because the war is over does not mean the enemy is defeated and it is all sunshine and roses again.” You stood up, brushing any dirt from your dress, before squaring your shoulders. “I am well aware of that Captain.” You said taking a step towards him. You were not about to be belittled by some brute. You stepped even closer, showing him that you were not afraid of him. Even if his eyes were trying to burn you alive and his hands were clenching at his side. Your chests were almost touching. He was heaving,  struggling to suppress his anger. “I am in danger right now.” This confused the Captain, he immediately looked around but could not see anyone. You could not mean him, could you? He stepped back as if you had slapped him. Even though women in his culture were hardened not only by war but also by the rough weather they were supposed to be treated as something precious.

Rubbing over his beard. You were watching him like a hawk, confused by his reaction. But you let nothing show, your blank expression reestablished on your face. He was about to apologize when you went on. “I am in danger of having forgotten the most important thing.” You pointed at your trunks. Oh for fucks sake. Gods help me, he thought, he would rather deal with two dozen enemies on his own than spoiled Princesses.. He brushed past you pulling down your trunk and walked to your tent. He had to hold onto something or else he would throw you over his shoulder and bind you to your carriage so you would not run off again. Gripping the handles tightly in anger he marched to your tent. Syverson began to doubt if he did the right thing, agreeing with Imrahils request. He put the trunk down in your tent. You had been following quietly. Observing him. His back was tense and you felt a little bit guilty for just leaving. But you were not used to being on this open field and not doing as you pleased. When you realized that your book was not in your bag in your tent you began to panic. Running outside searching through your trunks. Once he set it down, you pushed past him opening the trunk. Clothing was stacked in it. You could hear a snort from him. Yet, you ignored it. Pushing the clothes carelessly from the trunk. You reached for the stacks of books hidden underneath. Now Syverson was intrigued. What was it that you were searching for? A silk gown? Your wash clothing? Probably considering your clean-cut look. He mustered you again. Even after practically falling into your trunk, you were put together not one hair out of place. You paid the dresses no mind, throwing them on the ground. A sigh of relief caught his attention. So he leaned over you trying to see what it was. It was not what he had expected. A book. With a green and golden cover. It was old so much he could tell but well preserved. Only some of the golden ornaments had fallen off.

You sigh out a breath of relief hugging it to you. In your frenzy, you had not realized that the Captain had not left your tent. Composing yourself you turned around. “Was there anything else you needed, Captain?” He looked at you for a moment, then breathed out heavily, shaking his head in annoyance and went to the opening of your tent, before he could leave he informed you: “Food is ready.” You stood there for a second just holding your book when his head appeared again. “And don’t wander off. If you need anything, get me or one of my men.” You nodded, realizing how irrationally you had acted. This was not like you. You called out to him. He slightly opened your tent, signaling that he was listening. “Thank you for-.” You pointed to the trunk he had carried. “And for informing me of dinner.” Your tone took on a slightly gentler edge. “I am starving.” You tried to smile slightly, but found your lips did not agree with you. You guessed it looked more like you had bit into a lemon, so you quickly stopped. He looked at you for a second and then just nodded. “I can get someone to bring you a plate.” “Oh that won’t be necessary I will be right out.”

He nodded once more and went towards the campfire. He could not pinpoint you. A picture of you bent over the trunk flashed through his mind. But you did have a lovely behind. Smirking, he sat down by the fire, yes a very lovely one. You washed your face and stored your book safely underneath your bed covers and went outside. Men were positioned around your camp, some were lying on the grass sleeping as it sounded like from their snoring and some were sitting at the campfire. The Captain and the long-haired man were among them. The chatter got a bit quieter when you arrived. The men sat on wood logs but none was free.

Before the Captain could stand up you shed your cloak laying it on the ground and seated yourself on it. “I am sorry to interrupt, but the smell was very tempting, may I ask for a serving?” Promptly a wide and short man stood up. “Of course my Lady.” You resisted the temptation to glance at Syverson when hearing my Lady. The man handed you a plate with some grilled potatoes and meat on it. “Thank you.'' You picked up your fork. “It truly smells delicious. May I ask your name?” The man nodded eagerly. “Of course, I am Jordan the cook.” You sat up straight, bowing your head slightly. “It is lovely to meet you Jordan.” He fell into an unpracticed bow, before sitting back down. The men looked at you from the corner of their eyes. Waiting for you to complain about the food probably, you thought. They were still in conversation trying not to be too obvious.

Only Jordan openly looked at you. You took a big bite out of the meat and potatoes. “Oh.” You moaned out lightly. Swallowing quickly you made another fork. “I was right, it is delicious.” You smiled at Jordan's beaming face. “You hear that lads, delicious. So stop complaining and eat.” He hit the man next to him, giving him a pointed look. It almost made your lips twitch into a smile. “Yeah, she only thinks so because she has not eaten it for two weeks straight.” You shook your head in amusement, and continued to eat. To be honest you had not had meat like this ever. Usually, you ate seafood, and the potatoes were boiled at your home. However, you found you enjoyed the grilled ones more. The men seemed more relaxed now, one even offering you a glass of mead. Gladly you accepted it.

Taking a careful sip, it was sweet, tasting like honey. You had never had it before. In your home, you mostly drank wine. Taking another sip you feared even the sweetest wine was spoiled by the taste of liquid honey almost as if you were drinking gold. Yet, you paced yourself, there was no way you would lose your senses. So you mostly sat there observing. Answering questions once in a while, as short and politely as you could. You did not want to give too much information away just yet, you needed to find out more about the people first. And you found it was easiest to do so by sitting with them when they drank. It loosened their tongues. You could feel eyes on you once in a while and knew the Captain was watching you. You tried not to let it get to you. Giving all the attention to the person who talked. “Oh please no more.” You winked away the man wanting to fill your plate for the third time. “It was good.” You quickly turned to Jordan. “But I fear if I eat one more plate we will need three horses instead of two to pull my carriage.” You played coye. The men laughed. “My Lady, that is no problem.” A big burly man with long orange hair and curly orange beard stood up. “If needed I will pull it myself.” He pushed out his chest, flexing his arms to show his broad statue. A laugh almost escaped you at his antics. You had never seen men behave so… well so, unlike the people at court. Clearing his throat Syverson stood up. “That’s enough. It is getting late. Don’t some of you have the night shift?” His voice boomed out, interrupting the laughter around you. The men nodded, getting up to leave. Jordan picked up the plates and went to wash them. While only Syverson and the other long-haired man stayed.

You looked up at Syverson, wondering why he had interrupted. He held out his hand for you. Hesitantly you took it, pulling you up far more gently than you thought his rough hands were capable of. He bent down picking up your cloak and shaking it out before handing it to you. “Thank you.” You looked at each other for a couple of seconds waiting for the other to speak. “I will retreat to my tent now.” You turned, taking a few steps. Syverson nodded, following you. “I’ll bring you.” You quirked your eyebrows at his sudden display of manners. “Scared I will wander off again?” You teased him. Halting in yourself, you thought, the mead must have gotten to you. You were not in a habit of teasing men but there was something about the Captain that just made you want to. Most likely because of his rude behavior earlier. He put a hand on the lower of your back guiding you to your tent. Before you could enter he leaned down. “You can try to.” His lip quirked. “Good night Princess.” Leaving you standing there, trying to suppress a smile. Was that a challenge?

The next morning you woke up feeling cold. You only had a light linen blanket and your white nightgown was made of material that was supposed to keep you cold. Normally you would be slightly sweating already. Your room back home was facing the sea and the sun would shine on your face, tickling you awake. You curled into yourself. You could already hear men bustling around, it seemed to be dawn. The tent was still dark but not pitch black like yesterday evening. You groaned sitting up. You felt sore all over, especially your back. The constant bumping of the carriage was exhausting and you hoped that after a couple of days you did not have to see the inside of one for a long time. You looked around your hair tousled and sleep was still in your eyes. Gods, you wished you would have brought your maid with you. She would have brewed you some coffee by now. Yet, you could not do this to her. You heard the women talk amongst themselves when it was announced you would go to the north. They were horrified, hoping they did not have to come. Slowly, you realized you did not want them with you either. Their borderline hysteria thinking about going gave you a headache. So you left without one. At least you had some peace and quiet riding alone in the carriage. You were not particularly a morning person and now that you had nothing to do your body needed a while to get up and running. You wished, not for the first time, that you were back in your bed. Snuggled into your cool linen with a book. You lit the candle next to your bed and walked over to the wash bucket. It was yesterday's water but right now you could not care. You splashed some on your face. Gasping, it felt like it got even colder overnight but at least you were somewhat awake. You put your morning coat on, but your bed was calling to you. So you slipped into it again. Wondering, was it always this cold here? It was autumn, not even winter. You really hoped the tailor had your clothes ready, it seems like you would need them. You picked up your book and began to read.

Not ten minutes after you lit the candle someone clears their throat outside your tent. Sighing you got up. Please, it was not even properly light outside. Tightening your morning coat you walked over to the entrance, pulling the flap an inch aside, so they could only see your face. “Yes?” “Good morning my Lady, I made some coffee and tea for the men. I was wondering if you would like some?” It was Jordan, he had a slight blush on his face and two cups in his hands. You smiled to yourself. How right Maria was, she had advised you from a young age to always be on good terms with the cook. “Oh, that would be wonderful.” You opened the tent granting him entrance. Swiftly you strided over to your bed again, wrapping the blanket around you. He sat down the two cups on your makeshift night table. “I took the liberty of adding a little sweetener into the coffee.” He commented proudly, handing you one of the cups. “Thank you, that is very kind of you.” Your voice was still laced with sleep. Taking your first sip you hummed. “I can never start my day without one.” You added. He stood awkwardly in the tent, looking at you. Apparently waiting for something.

You frowned. OH. You cleared your throat, taking another sip. You watched him in amusement over the rim of your cup. Humming in agreement of the taste. “It is very good, the sweetener adds some nice new flavor to it.” You leaned forward, almost smiling. He beamed at you. “Thank you so much. I will make sure the cook in Warhorse knows this.” He wrung his hands, then added hastily. “Is there anything else you need? The breakfast is not quite ready.” He looked apologetic. You continued to take sips from your coffee, greatly amused at the man in front of you. A sweet man, but far too eager for approval. He glanced over to your wash bucket. “I will refill this for you.” You waved him away. “Thank you but you don’t have to.” “No, no please, it is no problem.” He quickly took the bucket and made his way out of your tent. You smiled to yourself. If every man was so easily led like him you would have no problems in Warhorse. You continued reading for a while, enjoying your coffee. Jordan had brought you fresh water promptly and you had every intention of bathing yourself at least a little. Sighing you made up your mind to get out of bed. You quickly pushed off the morning coat and loosened the strings at the front of your nightgown, ample cleavage was showing. So you could easily reach underneath your nightgown and wash underneath your arms.

You could hear a commotion outside, halting your action, trying to listen. Water droplets slipped under your dress, making you shiver and your nipples hard. Suddenly the flap of your tent was pulled back, you let out a small scream trying to cover yourself a little. Syverson had marched in. He looked at you angry and then stunned. “What in the Gods names is the meaning of this?” Outrage, clear in your voice. You pressed your washcloth close to your chest soaking the white fabric. The material clung to you, outlining your breasts. He shook his head as if he had to remind himself why he was here. Then it came back to him, his expression turned angry.

He walked up to you pushing a plate with food into your hand but you did not take it. “My men are not your servants. You want one? Then you should have brought one with you.” You looked at him shocked. “My apologies Captain Syverson if I have given this impression but I had no idea the food was ready or else I would have gotten a plate myself.” The longer you spoke the more your voice took on an edge. You wanted to scream at him how dare he enter without knocking, and not leave immediately when he saw your state of undress. He snorted. “Yes because you got yourself coffee and tea, or new wash water.” He pointed accusingly at the bucket of water. Your arms fell to your side, chest heaving. Not caring about your state of undress. Taking a step forward you now were directly in front of him. “Unlike you, I am not in the habit of barging in anywhere unwanted and causing unresting to the established practices of people.” He was about to talk over you but this time you were not having it. “May I explain myself to the offenses you so strongly presented?” But you did not wait for an answer. “Cook Jordan came to my tent of his own volition.” Spitting the word volition into his face. “I did not ask him to bring me anything. He simply wanted to know if I wanted some. He saw I had a light on. I told him not to get me new water.” You pointed at the bucket. “And that I would do it later but he insisted. As for the plate I have no idea why you brought it or if anyone else would for that matter, as I did not ask anyone to do so. And now that you have so rudely interrupted my bath, and turned a fellow soldier's action from kindness into entitlement it is time for you to leave.”

His face had changed from anger to shock and then shame throughout your rant. You on the other hand could hardly keep a blank face too angry with the rude man in front of you. Yet, he could clearly see the anger in your eyes. He stepped back breathing out heavily. Instead of your false polite face or the blank one, for that matter, you had a fire in your eyes. Syverson felt like it was the first time he had seen something real from you. Drops of water still clung to your neck and cleavage. Goosbumps lining your skin. Your chest was heaving and your nipples were hard, almost visible underneath your nightgown. Syverson could not help but notice this. As well as your hair. It was not in the net you had worn yesterday but free of any restrictions. Syverson had observed that the women from your country usually kept their hair put up or in a net. It was so different from his own country women who liked to braid their hair, let them loose, and do whatever they wanted with them. Your eyes still had a little sleep in the corner of them, but your lips looked as lush as yesterday. Goosebumps littered your arms. His hand twitched and his body leaned closer to you. Realizing how cold you must be, with the thin linen you wore.

You had been staring at each other for a while. Syverson was in a simple white tunic. Chest Hair was coming out at the top. His sleeves rolled up as if it was not freezing cold. Envy cursing through you, wishing you could be as warm. Making the numbness even more prominent in your hands. He seemed like he had been awake for hours already. The smell of pine trees and fresh air was enticing and you felt almost like you wanted to lean into him. Take the warmth his body was radiating. He suddenly stepped back. “My sincere apologies.” He looked like he wanted to say more but his gaze landed on your almost exposed chest, embarrassment quickly overtaking his body. He swiftly left, with the plate still in his hand. You did not realize you had held your breath until your lungs started to burn. Gasping in the fresh air you missed the smell of pine with it. You quickly washed and put on a gown you could lace up yourself. You did not bring a maid because you knew none wanted to wander in these dangerous times and not into the Woodlands. They were still a dangerous territory to be in. So you had packed accordingly for the trip. Only dresses that you could easily slip into and bind in the front.

Once you thought yourself presentable and shook the eventful morning off you. You went outside in search of food, as the Captain had taken your plate with him. The tents were already taken down and the men were getting ready to leave. The man with the blond long hair came towards you. “Morning my Lady. We would take your tent down now if you wish. We are leaving soon.” He had a thick accent that made it hard to understand. You would have balked at the casualness in which he addressed you but after the morning you had you did not care. “Thank you, my things are packed away. But I fear I have not been informed of your name yet.” He bent down loosening some of the wooden wedges that were pushed into the ground to secure the tent from any storms. “My apologies, I am Ocre. The second in command to Captain Syverson. “ He stood up looking at you and pointing towards the fireplace you had sat at yesterday. “There is some food by the fire. Jordan kept it warm for you.” “Thank you Lieutenant Ocre.” He was walking past you but halted. “We should thank you.” You turned to him in confusion. “What do you mean?” “The breakfast was really good, almost as if it was for a Princess.” He leaned closer, giving you a teasing smirk. You quirked an eyebrow. “A trick someone taught me once.” You leaned closer too as if it was a secret of utmost importance. “Always befriend the cook.” You winked, turned around, and walked towards the fire. You could hear a rough laugh behind you. “I’ll keep that in mind Princess.” 

Syverson’s head snapped up when he heard Ocre’s laugh, calling after you. He watched you walking towards the fire, his eyes wandering over your form. You looked like yesterday put together, clean cut as if you had not been traveling for the better part of a week. He scanned you from your hair neatly tucked in a net to the sway of your hips. You walked with a grace he had not seen before, at least not in his lands. Wondering if this was something you would teach his sister. His horse nudged him waiting for him to finish brushing it. “I can’t figure her out.” He mumbled to the horse. He almost blushed when thinking about this morning. He had not been scolded like that since he was a boy. He did not even dare think about your state of undress. He would not do his friend Imrahil a disservice by looking at his daughter this way. Gods he hoped you would not tell him what had happened or Imrahil would have his head. Imrahil had not shared the exact concerns about why he wanted you desperately to come to Warhorse. But he was concerned about his daughter. He was like an Uncle to Syverson and if he was concerned then so was Syverson. He brushed the horse, coming to the conclusion that it was now Syverson’s task to take care of you. So he needed to start acting properly.

Taglist:

Everyone was ready to go. You had made your way to your carriage when you were about to enter. Someone had grabbed your hand, softly, helping you into the carriage. You flinched slightly but then looked down at the big, rough but warm hand of the Captain. He had an expression on his face you could not read, it was not anger like this morning. It was soft but you could not pinpoint what it meant. When you were seated and safely inside he let go of your hand. “We will take a rest in a couple of hours. We need to pass some woods before we can do so.” He leaned closer, looking at you intently. “If you need anything, tell the rider to hold your carriage.” You had not said a word, too stunned to speak by his sudden politeness. When you gave him a short nod. He closed the door and left towards his horse. Your hand, still warm.

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[slifarianhawk]

Chapter 32: plans and secrets

"Tabitha, my dear, it is time to wake up," Albert whispered in my ear," you are home."

"Ugh," I groaned as he sat me down on the black leather couch in the hunting lodge lobby, "back at the lodge, huh?" I asked, sitting up.

"We should go check on Gale and Arjuna. I know you are worried about them, my precious lotus. I will help you down to your lab after some food." Albert said, sitting next to me.

"What time is it?" I asked sweetly, looking for the clock in the lobby over the fireplace.

Wesk pulled out his PDA, "About five in the morning, dearheart. The entrance to the old archives collapsed in one of the rat's explosions. It took me a while but I cleared out and disposed of the B.O.Ws. you should be able to have the former U.S.S. members be able to do a final clean sweep easily."

"Thank you, Albert. I can now make that disgusting place into a research lab separate from my main base. It'll also be better for containment measures." I started to plan things in my mind.

Albert chuckled seeing my eyes dart back and forth. My guess is it reminded him of our research days. I looked over at him and smiled. He seemed relaxed.

"My lady, there are a few packages that were dropped off at security." A man said walking up to me.

"It has been a while head of security, Billy Coen," I said addressing him.

"Indeed it has mam, and I'd like to report that Rebecca is on the way to check on Gale. I called her, she deserved to know." Billy said.

"I'm not mad and I'll deliver these to their recipients," I said standing up and taking the packages.

"Let us go my dearheart." Wesker stood up and took my hand.

We walked down to the base together. I was wobbly from being stunned by the bright light so much. I was surprised that it was taking so long to recover. It normally only took thirty minutes to recover but hours plus sleep and I wasn't something was a miss.

I needed to see what was going on with the angelis virus running through my veins. Was it the stress I've been under or something wrong with my body? I felt a concerned glance fall my way.

"What is wrong Tabitha, my dear?" Albert asked placing his hand on my back as I walked down the steps with him.

"My eyes my love are not recovering as fast as normal." I sigh reaching the entrance my thumbprint scanning on the unlock pad.

I walked through the now-opened door. I slowly handed out the packages that were addressed to some of my staff. The final package was for Gale. With a heavy heart, I looked at who it was from. It was from Rebecca. She cares for Gale a lot. It was nice to see.

The walk to the med bay was quiet and somber. The air was heavy as a cloud of unease was hanging over us. As we walked up to the med bay a loud "FUCK!".

I rushed in only to find Gale playing Zelda on his game cube.

"Really that loud of a fuck over a game, Gale," I said striding into the room.

"Honestly, you should be a little quieter in the med bay," Albert said following me in pointing out that Archer was in the bed next to him.

"Well, where have you two lovebirds been, spending some quality time together? Trying to make up for all the time y'all missed." He said while smirking putting his controller down.

"Oh shut up you damn mushroom-sized cocky asshole. At least my ass didn't get flattened by a sniper." Tabitha rolls her eyes walking into the med room

"Insolent brat."wesker walks behind her and over to Arjuna who still is unconscious.

"Gale, do you remember the incident when we were supposed to have a black market deal with twins just after I got back from India?" I asked, parting my hair and walking over to Arjuna.

" eh, rings a bell, why do you ask?" Gale said stretching out his shoulder cracking.

"It was the younger twin of the kid we killed the one who was being used by the Simmons family to get the g- virus from us. It was his brother who shot you and Arjuna." I said adjusting the pain meds being delivered to Archer.

"Oh, shit for real. Damn guess I should've been more alert" Gale said scratching his neck, "By the way did you merk his bitch ass for me.".

"She left nothing but a pile of meat and bones on the floor. You and arjuna were avenged." Wesker says adjusting his sunglasses, "However I'm worried about Tabitha's eyes. That rat used five different flash grenades on her and her sight has not"

" I'm fine Albert," I said walking away from Arjuna's bed and headed for the med closet only to walk into the door frame of the med closet, "Ow!".

"Damn five flashes, that's rough" Gale laughed at me as I rubbed my face.

"I'll just pretend no one saw that. But yeah and I lost my special corrective glasses when I fell into the base. Ugh! Why did I have to become so sensitive to bright light!" I groan, "Oh and you got mail from Rebecca" handing Gale the package and then sitting on the floor.

"I wonder why Alex is targeting the Phoenix Corps and not telling me," wesker said grabbing a wet cloth, getting on his knees, and wiping my face off of the blood staining it.

"Oh shit! thank you, sis." Gale shouted as he opened the package revealing a Nintendo DS Lite special edition of Zelda Phantom Hourglass with said game as well as Pokémon Pearl, "Sending me a DS with Pokémon Pearl and Phantom Hourglass, this is the best gift sis has recently given me."

"Billy said Rebecca is on her way. it's good to see them going steady." I said standing up, "Gale I need you to keep a secret that stays in this room,"

I turned towards him as he plugged in the DS to charge. He looked happy and relaxed the opposite of me. I wish I could feel that way but there are too many unknown variables especially with Alex causing me trouble.

"Sure what's up?" Gale smiled mischievously.

"It's about Archer or rather Arjuna." She sighs as wesker examines the stitched wound on Archer's abdomen, "He's my adopted son ever since I brought him over to the States."

"And with my sister causing trouble we needed to tell someone trusted. She told me while chasing the rat that shot you." Wesker said covering the wound with a sheet so I would not see how bad it was.

Gale looks at me dropping his cocky grin "What the FUCK! he is your son" Then he looks at Albert with a sour face "And your sister is a bitch, Wesker"

"Yes, she is." I walk over to Archer's bed and her hands, "I'm going to make Alex pay for hurting my friends and family."

"She always was. She objected at mine and Tabitha's wedding even Spencer was shocked at that." Wesker says turning to face Gale, "I want you to come to Africa with us Chambers. I want you to help keep Tabitha safe and help with taking out our targets."

"Count me in" Gale smiled again looking pumped up, "Ain't nobody gonna stop us."

I smile but then it fades, "We are what remains of Umbrella. I'm not going to fail in my plans on what needs to be done."

The comms ring.

"Billy here Rebecca is here to see Gale," Billy said.

I sigh and look at Albert "Go to my room and stay there we can risk exposing our involvement with you yet love."

"Fine but I expect you up there within the hour. I have a surprise for you." Albert dashed out.

"Well, that's probably that's fastest I've seen him just dip like that" Gale laughed.

I shiver, "Not the first time I've seen that." I touch my comms " Bring Rebecca down, Billy."

She hears a cough as Archer wakes up.

"What happened after we were brought back," Arjuna asked.

"We got patched up, you should feel fine soon" Gale pointed to his shoulder being bandaged.

Arjuna places his hand where he was shot looking up at me and my sad eyes, "Hey don't look sad T. I'll be ok."

I sighed a small gracing my lips, "The secret is out Juna. Gale knows and so does Albert."

Rebecca walks in with Billy "Hey big brother, how are you doing? I heard you were shot." She said worry on her brow.

"Rebecca it's so good to see you again. I could be doing better but that doesn't matter right now. how have you been doing sis" Gale reaches out hugging Rebecca close.

Rebecca smiles sweetly "I finally got my doctorate in bioengineering and virology. I graduated top of my class. I'll be making vaccines for the virus for the people you and boss lady over there help."

I laugh walking over to Rebecca and hugging her, "Thank you, Rebecca. I mean that. If it weren't for the fact we're not going to be on base soon I'd ask you to set up shop here."

Rebecca looks at Gale's shoulder and shakes her head, "Let me see that wound, Gale. Especially if you are going on another dangerous mission."

"It's nothing too serious. I've had worse than this scratch," Gale says trying to cover his shoulder with a blanket.

"Don't be like that Gale and let me see " takes off the wound dressing, "I could tell you were trying to spare me Gale but I'm a big girl now. I can handle these sorts of things." as she grabs a can of first aid spray and treats the remaining wound.

"His bonding with the Veronica virus did speed up his healing process but I'm glad that he has a sister like you Rebecca," I say staring at Arjuna.

"Speaking of which you need to talk to Chris or at least some way show him you're alive T." Rebecca scolds me worry back on her face

I plop my head down, feeling defeated "How? I'm being watched like a fucking hawk."

"She's right you know, Chris is worried about ya. It wouldn't hurt to talk to him." Gale says rotating his arm before hugging Rebecca again.

"Fine, I'll call but no one says a word about this to my boss." I said pulling out a burner phone from the desk in the medical room, "Do I have everyone's word"

Arjuna quickly nods in agreement as do Billy and Rebecca. They seemed very interested in the conversation I was about to have.

"Gale? What say you?" I ask entering the number.

"Aye aye, captain!" Gale laughs.

Tabitha quickly flips off Gale and dials Chris's desk at the B.S.A.A. It rang for a while. I started to wonder what was taking him so long.

Ring ... ring...

"Redfield..." Chris said finally picking up.

"Chris I'm sorry," I said, starting to cry again.

"Oh my god! she did it!" Gale exclaims.

"Gale ssssh!"Rebecca shushes Gale.

"No, it can't be. T how? I thought Wesker. Surely he would have. How are you even alive?" Chris said chokingly.

"I did what I needed to for the moment. I don't have long. I have managed to infiltrate deeply and I'm safe. he won't hurt me. At least I'm sure of that for now Chris." I wipe my eyes trying to be strong for my brother.

"Who won't hurt you?" Rebecca asked worried still.

"It's nothing Rebecca we got it under control, trust me," Gale said comforting his sister.

"Alright. I trust you guys." Rebecca said hugging Gale.

"I found what I needed to... I'm...I'm OK. Gale will be with me now and Chris tell Claire I love her... I love you... but this will be our last communication for a long while. Update O'Brian that the mission is going smoothly and it is not the time we put a stop to this. In three years there will be a crisis but we can stop it... I need to just do my job." I say collapsing to my knees.

"T NO! DON'T GO. I CAN NOT LOSE YOU TOO NOT AGAIN!" Chris shouts as I reach out for the hang-up button.

"I am so proud of you and Claire. Chris, we will be a family again one day. Listen to the tapes and let them guide you. I love you, little brother. Goodbye." I hung up hearing Chris scream out on the phone.

Rebecca runs over to me and pulls me to embrace her as she sits on the floor next to me.

Tears drip down my face and my heart aches. Rebecca's embrace was warming but it didn't reach my heart. I doubt anything would. I felt numb.

I turn to watch as Gale just sits there in silence. Turning to face Juna he stared at me with pleading eyes. Billy and Rebecca stared at each other saddened at the state I was in.

I stood up and cracked my neck, "I will bring wesker to justice one way or another. Even If it means I'll be alone again."

Rebecca smiled and looked at Gale "You won't be alone this time. You have me and Gale. Chris will be there too, I promise."

Arjuna asks Billy to leave the room and once he does and the door closes Arjuna speaks, "You won't be alone because we will bring him to justice and rehabilitate and have him at Phoenix Corps. I may not know the man well but if he means so much to you we should try right."

" yeah, we'll get that son of a bitch wesker." Gale looks at Rebecca "Sorry you can't come with us, sis."

Rebecca's smiling stops "I know you don't want me to help but I want to."

"It's too dangerous for you to come with us," Gale looks down at the floor for a moment then back up at Rebecca "I don't wanna lose you too, and I would stay or go home but Tabitha needs my help and after all we been through, kind hard to say no."

I walk over to Rebecca and place my hand on Rebecca's shoulder, "I need you to keep supplying Pheonix Corps with the t and g virus vaccines I know the Veronica one is in the works. I promise I'll keep Gale safe I view you and him as my siblings I won't let him die besides I think I'd have to drop a

Six-ton boulder on him for him to stay down"

Rebecca nods and takes off her necklace, "Here Gale, this was Mom's. I want you to bring it back to me when you bring Wesker down."

I look between the siblings and chuckle.

Rebecca smiles "Please Gale take my locket."

Gale takes the locket and says " I'll come back, I'll promise that."

Rebecca hugs her brother a few tears cresting her eyes, "You better you big dummy.".

"It's a promise" Gale hugged Rebecca back as they shared a moment.

Tabitha smiles and then looks serious "Hey Gale, do you still have my restraining cuffs? The ones Sergei used on me. I have a feeling the boss is going to need them soon."

Rebecca looks at Gale confused.

"Yeah, I'll have to find them first," Gale smirks.

"Do you have an idea where they are? He is quite impatient." blushed a bit and Rebecca laughed.

"Wesker still has his restraining kink then. That's hilarious T"

Her saying that made me blush more, "Rebecca! Why? Any idea where they are Gale?"

" Probably in my locker or bag or something, don't remember" Gale chuckled.

"Fun.....well you two have a lovely visit I'm going to check your training room Gale it's already almost been an hour," I said hugging Archer.

"Don't have too much fun now." Rebecca laughs elbowing Gale on the shoulder.

Growling I walked out the door I heard them talking "Hey Gale I got Pokémon diamond want to play?".

The door closed as I heard the siblings laughing. Sprinting to Gale's training room I quickly picked the locker's lock and as I expected the cuffs were right on the top shelf he probably placed them there when he got back.

I swiftly closed up the locker and dashed to my elevator. Opening the door of the elevator, I stepped on. I knew Albert was waiting for me. I had a sick idea that would probably get Albert to lay off Chris for a while.

It would break Chris's heart but at least he and Claire would be safe. I'd show my twisted side. Albert always loved the idea of fucking me on camera. This way I could show Chris I'm alive at least.

Stepping out of the elevator I noticed the smell of roses and sweetpeas. It was the candle on my bedside table. I heard the shower running. I walked over to my closet and pulled down an old worn black box. This would hurt Chris but I need to prove that I'm loyal to Albert in a way only I could.

I was about to give some of the best acting of my life. As much as it would hurt Chris. My heart was in shatters. I was sure this would break him. But the mission comes first. I promised Alistar I would bring her father home. That was exactly my plan. Sometimes we just have to play the freak to do that.

I loved my family and to save my family. I would have to break my family. I was disappointed in myself for even thinking about suggesting this. But it would keep him off Albert's radar so in my mind it was worth it.

"Something on your mind lotus," Albert asked holding his towel across his waist.

"I think I have a way to keep Chris and Claire at bay," I said rubbing my eyes, "I just can not do it alone."

With that Albert smirked, "Oh my lovely lotus, what are you thinking."

Hey, there everyone slifarianhawk here and holy Halibut was this a long one? It was worth it in my mind. The next chapter will be hot and heavy smut. Bdsm knife play and sense deprivation. Skip if you don't like it's up to you my name is Silfarianhawk and I'm not so far away 🪷