#might be too soon to say but the lady at the embroidery place was really nice and i told them i’d pay extra to be bumped up on priority some | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writingwhimsey · 3 years ago

Text

The Tiger and the Oda Princess Ch. 1

This is just a fanfic of how I imagine things might go following Shingen's dramatic route ending. Hope you enjoy! Mature content!

Chapter 1

I woke to the morning sun streaming in through the open window. The fall crisp fall air, filling the room. I rolled over and found that I was alone in the futon, however there was a letter beside me. I opened it up and found Shingen's handwriting.

Good morning, my love. I am saddened by the face that I was unable to be there when you awoke this morning...I miss my good morning kisses and the way you look in the morning light. However Sasuke and Yuki were quite adamant that I could not see you this morning. I am counting the hours until I see you later this afternoon. I would count the seconds, but there are far too many of those. I do hope you got plenty of rest last night because once we are alone, we will have much to celebrate tonight and sleep is not something I plan on either of us having much of. Until our wedding, I will be missing you.

Love,

Shingen

I couldn't help the smile that came to my face. Today was the day we had been planning for the last few weeks. I sat up in bed, the excitement and my happiness overflowing. Just then the door opened and a group of maids were coming in.

"Good morning Lady Ava." Otsuna, an older maid, who I learned had played a large part in helping raise Shingen.

"Good morning, Otsuna." I greeted, smiling brightly.

She returned my smile with a warm one of her own. "We have your breakfast and as soon as you are finished, we will be getting you bathed and ready for the big day."

"Thank you, I really appreciate it." I said, bowing.

Otsuna smiled. "How many times must I tell you, you don't have to bow to me? You are about to marry my lord after all, making you the lady of this castle."

"Probably every day for the rest of time." I answered. "I was raised to show respect to everyone. In my home town station doesn't really matter."

"One of the many reasons we all love you." She replied. "Now hurry up and eat my lady."

I was getting up and eating and soon I was being led out of the room and to the bath. While I normally bathed myself or occasionally was bathed by Shingen when we bathed together...okay that actually happened quite often, but you know sexy times and all...Otsuna and the other maids insisted on bathing me.

"I can't wait to see how this wedding is going to be." Otsuna told me as she washed my hair. "I hear you are blending in some traditions from your hometown?"

"Yes, we are." I answered. "Starting with the one where it is considered bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding."

"You sound quite disappointed with that one." She teased.

"It's silly superstition." I replied. "But then again it is nice to participate in some of the traditions."

"And Master Sasuke will be helping with performing the ceremony how they do in your hometown?" Otsuna asked.

"Yes."

"It's still so strange how you two are from the same place. I mean since it is such a far away place and yet you both ended up here."

Same time. I thought, however only Shingen, Yukimura, and Kenshin knew that. "Yes, life can be funny sometimes."

Once my bath was over, I was getting out and drying off. I was wrapped in a comfy robe and then taken to have my hair and makeup fixed. I insisted on nothing too fancy though. It just didn't feel like me or like Shingen, like us.

My hair was put in a simple yet stylish bun with a golden hair pin that had some small red jewels on it. My makeup was very simple, just a bit of color on my lips and cheeks. Now it was time to get dressed. I couldn't help but to smile as I slipped into the kimono I had made for the wedding.

It was made of the same scarlet color as were pictured in the Takeda banners. I had done some floral embroidery, small and delicate in black and gold thread, just along the hem at the bottom. I wore a black and gold obi sash that was tied by a scarlet cord, matching the scarlet of the kimono.

"You look absolutely beautiful." Otsuna told me, smiling.

"Thank you." I said, seeing the warm affection in her eyes.

Just a few more minutes went by and then I was being led out of the room and to a small garden area, where we had decided to have the wedding. We were blending Sengoku traditions and modern traditions to create our very own unique wedding.

When I walked out to the garden, our closest friends were there waiting for us. Shingen stood, waiting for me. He looked so handsome in the kimono I had made for him. I made it in the same colors as mine, though minus the floral embroidery. He smiled as soon as he saw me and reached out his hand.

I placed my hand in his, returning the happy smile. His large hand enveloped my own and he was leading me to a small table where we knelt down. The table was set up between two trees that formed a natural canopy and with the changing of the leaves, looked breathtaking. Kenshin had surprised me by being there at the table performing a tea ceremony.

We had practiced the steps over and over in the past few weeks. Shingen and I exchanged tea cups as part of the tradition. We finished the tea ceremony and then turned to face each other, knee to knee. Shingen took my hands in his, his eyes locked with mine. Sasuke came up and knelt beside us holding a pillow with two weddings wooden bands Shingen had made for us. The rings were simple and yet absolutely stunning, made from a Japanese Maple and polished up. He had also carved the characters for True Love on the bands.

We had written our own vows for the occasion. "Ava, you came into my life, carrying with you the spark of life. I had long ago resigned myself to fate and yet you changed my fate. You have brought me so much love and joy that I had thought I would never see. You are my goddess, my angel, who has made all of my dreams come true. I swear to you that I will spend the rest of my life giving you the same joy and happiness and loving you every second as you deserve." After pledging his vows to me, Shingen took one of the rings and slid it onto my left ring finger.

I could feel the tears of joy welling up in my eyes. His words had been absolutely beautiful and I knew he truly meant them from his heart. "Well, I don't know how I'm going to follow that up." I found myself saying, making Shingen chuckle and earning a laugh from our gathered loved ones.

Shingen reached up a hand to wipe away my tears and give me an encouraging look.

I smiled at him. "Shingen, I never expected when we met for you to be serious. I took you for a flirt...a handsome flirt, but still a flirt. But then as I got to know you, I couldn't think of anything else but you and wanting to know more. Before I knew it I had fallen completely in love with you. You have made me the happiest I have ever been and I can't imagine being with anyone else. I promise you, I will spend the rest of my life with you, sharing all of the love in my heart and making you as happy as you have made me." I was then taking the other ring from the pillow and placing it on Shingen's left ring finger.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife." Sasuke said. "You may kiss the bride."

Shingen smiled at me as he wrapped his arms around me. "The part I've been waiting for." He said before pressing his lips to mine. The kiss was warm and tender and full of love and joy.

We broke the kiss after a few moments, but Shingen still held me in his arms, looking at me as if no one else were there with us. "My wife." He said, smiling at me.

I couldn't help but to smile back. "My husband."

"You guys do know the rest of us are still here, right?" Yukimura spoke up.

"Cut them a break." Sasuke said. "They did just get married."

"Yeah, but you don't live with them." Yukimura said. "They're always like this."

"I think you forget I spent time with them after Shingen had been healed." Sasuke countered.

"Can we get to the banquet already?" Kenshin asked. "I need some sake...and entertainment before I get bored."

While I could feel my cheeks heating up from bashfulness, I also couldn't help but to laugh at our friends. Shingen joined me in my laughter. "Some things never change." He said. "Alright, let us celebrate!"

We were all heading inside then to the dining hall. Shingen kept his arm wrapped around me as we walked. We all took our seats to enjoy the food and sake. When I went to sit beside Shingen, he surprised me by pulling me into his lap.

"Beside you isn't close enough?" I asked, my tone teasing as I looked up at him.

"Never." He answered, kissing my brow.

"You know, I didn't think they could get any worse and yet here they are." Yukimura complained. Though I could see a smile on his face. He was very happy for us.

"Yuki, you might learn something about women and how to treat them by watching us." Shingen replied, teasing. "If you don't learn, how are you ever going to start a family?"

"I will never understand your obsession with wanting your best vassal to have a family. Having attachments dulls your blade. Look at Sasuke, he's the perfect ninja." Kenshin said. "No attachments and his loyalty is to me."

"I think people fight better when they have someone they love to fight for." Shingen countered. "Besides, love is the best thing life has to offer."

When he said that last part, Shingen hugged me tighter to him. "I can agree with that." I said.

"It appears my goddess is on my side once again." Shingen spoke, smiling.

"Were we in a battle?" Kenshin asked. "If so, we should really put our strengths to the test. You and Yukimura versus me and Sasuke. Then we'll see which one of us is right."

"Sorry, but I have better things to be spending my energy on tonight." Shingen replied and then gave me a wink.

I giggled and my cheeks reddened. Then I looked over at Kenshin. "How about no fighting on my wedding day, okay?"

"Here, have more sake and pickled plums, Lord Kenshin." Sasuke said, pouring Kenshin another cup and handing him another plate full of pickled plums.

The party continued and soon musicians were brought in, which I had not been expecting. It was then that Sasuke was announcing that we would be doing some more traditions from our "hometown."

"What traditions are you talking about now?" I asked, eyeing Sasuke suspiciously. The only ones that really were left that involved the music would be first dance and a father-daughter dance, which we clearly couldn't do as my father was somewhere five hundred years in the future.

"This is usually the point in our hometown where the bride would dance with her father. Since that is not possible in this case, we are changing it up a little." Sasuke declared. He was then walking over to me and offering his hand.

I took his offered hand and allowed him to pull me up. "What are we doing?" I asked.

"You'll be dancing with me, as a big brother of sorts." He answered, leading me out to the middle of the room.

"Awe, Sasuke." I said. feeling myself getting emotional.

"I am quite happy for you, Ava." He told me as we danced. "You and Shingen seem to be perfect for each other."

"Thank you." I said.

We danced for a few more moments before Yukimura was cutting in. "Alright, my turn." He said. "Your next brother."

I smiled at him. "You guys are too sweet."

"Oh for me this is more about torturing Lord Shingen." Yukimura said with a teasing grin.

"What, are you playing keep away with me now, is that it?" I asked.

"Something like that." He answered. He was then looking down at the floor. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For saving Lord Shingen and for making him so happy." He answered. "I know I give you guys a hard time, but I am really happy for you two."

"I knew you were secretly sweet." I teased.

Yukimura rolled his eyes. "I swear you two were made for each other."

After a moment more with Yukimura, Kenshin was coming up to us. "Okay, my turn."

"You, too?" I asked, very surprised.

"Only because Sasuke and Yukimura promised to train with me later." Kenshin replied, taking my hand in his and pulling me into a dance with him.

I smiled and hid my laughter. Though he said it was for a bribe I knew it was because he actually did care about Shingen and me. "Well, I am happy that you agreed to it."

"Don't be so happy." Kenshin replied. "It will also annoy Shingen and after all that I put up with while he lived in my castle, he deserves a little payback."

"I also wanted to thank you for presiding over the tea ceremony at the wedding. You did a wonderful job and it really means a lot to us." I told him.

Kenshin just sighed. "It wasn't as boring as I expected it to be." Despite his words, he had a tender look on his face.

We danced a few more moments before Shingen was coming up to us. "Alright, I think you have all had your fun in playing keep away with my bride long enough." He said, his tone playful as always.

That was when I saw the look in Kenshin's eyes change. He was then wrapping one arm around my waist and pulling me against him, while drawing his sword with the other. "If you want her back that badly, you'll have to fight me for her. She is my hostage now."

Shingen arched a perfect brow. "I thought we just went over the fact that I will not be spending all of my energy on a fight with you when I have my wedding night with my bride tonight."

"You're cured, aren't you? You should have plenty of energy to spare now that your health has returned." Kenshin countered.

"Come on, that's enough Kenshin. Put the sword away and let me go." I said, biting back laughter. It was strange how this had all become normal to me.

"This bastard owes me a fight." Kenshin said, looking at Shingen.

"Lord Kenshin, I already promised to train with you if you behaved." Sasuke said.

"But we train all the time. I haven't had a good fight with my greatest rival in ages." Kenshin countered.

"Just let Ava go already." Yukimura said. "Besides you won't just be fighting Sasuke, you'll be fighting me too. I can probably convince a few others to join in. Make it a real challenge for you."

"Just come and drink your sake for now. We'll train tomorrow." Sasuke said, acting as the amazing handler he was. "With Shingen's permission maybe we can even explore the ceilings here. I can even set some traps for you."

Kenshin sighed and released me, putting his sword away. "Alright." He was then walking away to take his seat once more.

Shingen then pulled me into his arms smiling. "And here I thought we could get through one evening without Kenshin pulling out his sword."

"It wouldn't be a party if he didn't." I replied, as we began to sway to the music. "It makes sense now why he agreed to the dance, though."

Shingen laughed. "You don't realize how much everyone else cares for you, too." He replied. "If I'm not careful there's a line of men who would gladly steal you from me."

"I doubt that." I replied. "But in any case, you're the only one for me. There's no one else I'd rather spend my life with."

Shingen lifted a hand to cup my cheek. "You keep speaking like that and I'll have to take you from this party early." He said, his voice low and seductive.

"And that would be a bad thing?" I asked playfully, desire already sparking in me with the promise of his words.

"Well, there are a couple of more surprises that I don't think you'll want to miss." Shingen replied.

"Like what?" I asked.

"We had some gifts sent over...from Azuchi." He answered.

My eyes widened in surprise. "Really? I know in my last letter to them I told them we were getting married...but we hadn't figured out when yet."

"I wrote them." Shingen answered. "For obvious reasons, I couldn't invite any of them, but I did want to have something for you. I know you care about them."

I felt myself tearing up. At Shingen's thoughtfulness of writing to Nobunaga and the others even though they were still enemies. And at my friends' thoughtfulness to send a gift even though I was marrying their enemy. I had no words. I just stretched up and gave Shingen a kiss. "Thank you." I said to him.

"Anything for you my princess." He told me, kissing my brow.

It was then that the gifts were being brought in. One of the gifts was a delicious dessert prepared by Masamune. The other was several bolts of fabric that they had sent for me in my work. There was also a letter, which I read.

Ava,

Though your choice in a husband is one we can't agree with, we all wish you well and only want you to be happy. We hope to have another visit from you to Azuchi soon. Lord Nobunaga has kept your room at the castle as you left it and it will always remain here for you. Should you ever come to your senses to leave Shingen, we will welcome you back here with open arms.

Your friends and family always,

Nobunaga

Hideyoshi

Mitsunari

Mitsuhide

Masamune

Ieyasu

"I can't say that was the most flattering letter." Shingen said. "But as I told you earlier, there is a line of men ready to take you away from me should I give them the chance."

"No one can take me from you." I told him, folding the letter up and putting it away. "My heart is yours, along with the rest of me."

Shingen smiled at me, pulling me close. He gently kissed me on the lips. "As I am yours." He said, but there was a fire in his eyes.

I could see the emotions there, all mixing. Love, passion, desire, and a hint of jealousy. I found my own desire sparking, a roaring flame deep within me at that look. I felt heat through my kimono wherever he touched me.

"I think it is time we call it a night and go to our room." He said in that seductive purr.

I nodded. "Yes."

Shingen turned to everyone. "Thank you all for coming to help us celebrate. Stay and enjoy the food and sake for as long as you like. Good night." He was then sweeping me up into his arms and carrying me out of the room.

As soon as the doors were closed behind us and we were in the main hall, Shingen's lips were on mine in a passionate kiss. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling myself as close as possible to him. We broke the kiss, but he kept me in his arms and carried me all the way to our room. He didn't set me down until we were to the futon. Then he was over me.

We were a tangle of limbs as we kissed once again. Shingen's hands expertly untied my obi as his lips traveled down my neck and then back up it to my ear. "I almost forgot to tell you how beautiful you look tonight." He whispered to me. "It's almost a shame to undress you after you worked so hard on our wedding clothes...almost."

I shivered as his words washed over me. I was sliding my hands to untie his kimono as well. Soon we had each other bared and we were skin to skin. Shingen raked his teeth over my ear, where he knew I was so sensitive. His hands enveloped my bared breasts, all eliciting moans from me.

"I have so much to make up for from not getting to love you last night." He murmured, his warm breath washing over my flesh. He pulled back to look at me, his gaze all fire and love. He took a teasing finger and ran it from the base of my throat, between my breasts, and over my stomach.

I shivered in response to his touch. My eyes were already half-lidded with the pleasure that coursed through my body. Oh the things his touch does! I thrilled internally. "Sometimes the anticipation helps to build the pleasure." I replied, coyly.

Shingen gave me a wicked smile. "Is that so?" He was then leaning over me, kissing my neck. He rested a hand on my thigh, his thumb rubbing in circles teasingly close to my inner most heat and yet just staying out of reach.

I gasped. "What are you doing?" I asked, though I already knew.

Shingen smiled at me. "Using anticipation to build your pleasure." He answered.

"More like teasing me to frustrate me." I said.

Shingen chuckled and leaned in once again, kissing my neck. He then brought his thumb to that sensitive cluster of nerves and continued that circular motion he had been doing on my thigh. He then thrust a finger inside, working up a rhythm.

"Ah...Sh...Shin...gen!" I cried out as he finally gave me what I most craved.

I felt his lips curve into a smile on my neck. "I can deny my princess nothing." He whispered to me as he continued to work me.

All too soon he withdrew his fingers from me. I was about to pout when I felt him position himself between my parted legs, wrapping them around his hips. He was then filling me in a more complete way.

My bucking hips met each of his powerful thrusts. We were lost to pleasure, neither of us able to speak only gasps and moans escaped our lips as we crested that wave of ecstasy together.

We spent the rest of the evening making love like this before finally collapsing and falling asleep in each others embrace. I had never felt more happy or more loved.

Follow the link below for chapter 2!

https://writingwhimsey.tumblr.com/post/656167738314735616/the-tiger-and-the-oda-princess-ch-2

#ikesen shingen #ikesen #romance #fanfic #writing #sexy time #chapter 1

22 notes · View notes

guiltysecretpasttime · 4 years ago

Text

Pretense

Here’s a one-shot fanfic from me, still on Legend of Korra.

- Lin/Tenzin, pre-LOK AU

- One-shot, completed

- Length: Approx 8.9k

Overview:

As far as the Earth Kingdom is concerned, Lin Beifong is in a relationship with the son of the Avatar.

No, not that one.

---

Lin could not believe that they managed to pull it off.

It has been a week since she arrived at Ba Sing Se. So far, it has gone well.

She towel-dried her hair as she moved around the room to get ready. The metalbender has just finished her shower right after coming home from training with the Dai Li.

Lin had always wanted to train with them. She felt that, aside from her mother, they would be a good source of learning different earthbending styles.

As expected, her grandmother Poppy was more than unwilling to have her train – for what good man would indeed wish to be with a brutish young lady like her. On the other hand, Toph Beifong was quite supportive but was hesitant on the grounds that it might hinder her progress with the police force.

Ever the people-pleaser as her pestering sister described her, Lin struggled to come to a solution that would hopefully meet all their concerns. By some fortunate coincidence, someone swooped in with a proposal, which she accepted after weighing the pros and cons.

Sliding into a long deep scarlet dress, Lin quickly pinned up her hair and applied lip stick. It would simply not do for one of the ladies of the Noble House of Beifong to be seen unkempt.

This was the concession of her temporary move to Ba Sing Se: train with the Dai Li by day - attend society events at night.

It was enough to satisfy both her mother and grandmother. Toph hated these events expected from the current head of the Beifong family. Having Lin attend to it in her stead works for both of them - Toph gets to stay in Republic City and Lin gets to show her family (and the world) that she is highly capable in navigating these events. This way, no one need worry about the Beifongs not being recognized within the Earth Kingdom.

There was a knock at the door. Lin took one last look in the mirror and went to open it.

To add to her advantage, showing up with a date every time for these events keeps possible entanglements at bay.

“You look wonderful, Lin.”

After all, what better way to repel unwanted admirers than showing up at the arm of the Avatar’s son?

“Thanks, you look good too, Bumi.”

---

Tenzin unfolded the letter.

This was the address, he confirmed, standing in front of a tall nondescript gate, blocking the view and entrance to a residence in the Middle Ring in Ba Sing Se.

He rang the bell and waited.

The airbender shifted his bag from shoulder to shoulder, his robes billowing in the wind but interestingly not drawing attention from any passersby. He figured it was a good call to leave Oogi at the Air Temple and take a train to the Earth Kingdom instead, less commotion and less accommodations needed. He did not want to unnecessarily impose on others after all.

Tenzin was at the last leg of his travels and it happened to be a stop at the Earth Kingdom, specifically at Ba Sing Se University. Initially having thought that only minimal information documenting the Air Nomad culture survived the genocide, after the deposition of Ozai, more and more have contacted the Avatar to share artifacts and knowledge of the Air Nomads that they had hidden away during the war. Aang had eagerly responded to each of these letters and began to acquire these relics beholden to his culture. When Tenzin became of age and was to embark on his travels as a new airbending master, he sought to continue this practice and exploration. This is what brings him to Ba Sing Se University.

He had been writing to his mother to update her; telling of his plans to stop at the Earth Kingdom before going home to Air Temple Island. Katara had suggested to contact his brother who would be there for a diplomatic assignment. Tenzin was skeptical; he did not have a close relationship with his siblings after all. Nonetheless, to appease his mother, he did write to Bumi asking if he could stay for a couple of weeks with him. To his surprise, Bumi had responded in the affirmative.

“Coming!”

A voice answered the bell, a voice which was obviously not Bumi and was distinctly feminine.

The gate swung open, and Tenzin gaped.

“Hi Tenzin, you’re early!” Lin Beifong stood before him, clad in a gold qipao. For a moment Tenzin was not able to respond, focusing his attention on the curl at her neck that must have escaped the bun on top of her head.

“H-hello, Lin.”

She invited him in. “We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

We?

“I was able to catch the first train out and so cut a day from my travel time.” He managed to respond as Lin led him to the house.

“I see, we were going to fetch you.”

“So, is it really Tenzin?” A loud voice came from one of the inner rooms of the house.

The metalbender rolled her eyes. “Of course, has my seismic sense failed us yet?”

“One could hope not.” Bumi came into view, wearing a towel tied at his waist and nothing much else. “Tennyboy! Great to see you!” The military man clapped his hands then moved to embrace his brother tightly and lifting him up. “Welcome to Ba Sing Se.”

“Good to see you too, Bumi.” Tenzin gasped out, dropping his bags, and patting his older brother back.

From his peripheral view, he could see Lin watching them with amusement.

“I want to hear all about what you’re up to here, baby brother.” Bumi set Tenzin back on the ground, crossing his arms, unmindful of his still dripping hair from his shower.

Lin cleared her throat and both men turned to her. She simply raised an eyebrow.

“Ah right,” Bumi shrugged. “Lin and I were on our way out for a charity event, would you want to join us?”

“Um, thanks but no.” Tenzin thought it would be the height of poor manners to show up uninvited by the hosts to a formal dinner. “I’ll settle in first.” He gestured to his things.

“Maybe next time, then.” Suddenly aware of his semi-nakedness, Bumi quickly addressed Lin. “Lin, if you could show him to his room? I’ll finish getting ready.”

Lin inclined her head and beckoned Tenzin to follow her.

Tenzin, although bewildered, followed Lin as she showed him where everything was (pantry, kitchen, living room). He also noted the shiny red embroidery on Lin’s dress that crept from the shoulder (is that a dragon?) to the small of her back which then drew his attention to her –

“And here is your bedroom.” Lin pushed open one of the doors.

“Thanks.” He paused just in time not to crash into the woman in front of him.

“If there’s anything you need, well, just let Bumi know.”

And, with a curt nod, Lin left Tenzin to settle in and wonder what he just got into.

---

Tenzin heard the front door open hours later as he sat at the living room, having a cup of tea while going over his notes.

“That was tough.” Bumi’s deep timbre echoed in the silent house.

Both he and Lin came into Tenzin’s view as they entered. Lin removed her heels and all but collapsed at the couch. “Remind me to decline any event that comes right after physical training sessions.”

“I did remind you,” Bumi slid down beside her, nodding at Tenzin to acknowledge his presence. “And you said, and I quote – ‘it’s just a short event, how bad can it be?’”

Lin covered her face with hands and groaned. “I underestimated the amount of networking that they expected during a charity event.”

Bumi laughed good-naturedly, patting Lin’s back. “Hey, Ten – how was your afternoon?”

“Good, good. I managed to unpack everything. All set for tomorrow.” Tenzin waved a sheaf of papers.

The non-bender looked between the metalbender who was slumped on the couch, eyes closed, and the airbender at his other side, clearly up for a long night of paperwork. An idea came to him. “I know, let’s all go out and have a late dinner and some drinks to welcome to you to Ba Sing Se.” He placed an arm over his brother’s shoulder. “What do you say?”

Tenzin grimaced a bit, having travelled conventionally without his sky bison was tiring. “Thanks for the offer but I’d rather stay in and get some rest.”

Bumi nudged Lin, who gave him a baleful glare. “Okay, no.” He laughed and got up, checking his pockets to make sure he has enough money. “I’ll just get us some take-out and we’ll eat in then.”

“That’s the first time you made sense tonight.” Lin grumbled.

With promises of a well-balanced meal for them of both vegetables, meat, and booze, Bumi loped off.

Lin remained in the couch, sighing as she stretched her legs and then tucked them to herself.

Tenzin adjusted his glasses and surreptitiously observed Lin as he went through his research notes.

He always had a soft spot for this childhood friend. They spent most of their toddler years and early childhood with one another, but Lin (and eventually Su) had been shuttled back and forth from Gaoling and Republic City. This was highly dependent on the Beifong grandparents as well as Toph’s schedule (and how dangerous her cases were). Meanwhile, his education has turned to focusing on Air Nomad culture. Their days intersected less and less as time passed by.

Their friendship dwindled, and they were not as close as they could have been.

Truth be told, as he watched Lin stretch once more then pad over to the kitchen with familiarity, he did not even know what she had been up to recently. He had some inkling to it (mostly relating to the police academy) but he did not expect her to be in Ba Sing Se. And most especially not around in Bumi’s UF provided residence.

He did harbor crush on the earthbender in their adolescence; surely at least Bumi knew about it, if his subsequent teasing during his visits to Air Temple Island were any proof.

Tenzin shook his head.

That was then and this was now; he had grown up and something as silly as a childhood crush was soon forgotten.

At least, that was what he kept telling himself as Lin came back to the living room, placing her own cup of tea on the table then disappearing to Bumi’s bedroom, claiming to retrieve a book she had been reading earlier.

Yes, it was all forgotten, Tenzin convinced himself even as he felt a pit form at his stomach.

---

The next time that Lin was over, Tenzin was lugging with him a large book bag filled with loaned books from the university library. After a couple of visits, he felt that the scrutiny from some of the staff and students made him uncomfortable. There was no denying who he was, with his tattoos brightly announcing to the world his mastery of a long thought to be dead element.

The fawning and the preferential treatment were a little less bad than how the air acolytes had regarded him. That was not conducive to his productivity and so he decided to bring home as much relevant material as he could instead and work from there.

He had only managed to spread out all the books and was in the process of cataloging the references when Lin burst into the house.

“Is Bumi home?” Lin appeared have rushed over, and Tenzin appreciated the flush on her cheeks and neck exposed by the tank top she wore.

Tenzin made a noise and pointed to Bumi’s bedroom and was responded to by a hasty thanks.

---

“You said you had news?” Lin asked without preamble upon entering the bedroom.

“Spirits, Linny!” Bumi shouted, pretending to cover himself up with his blanket when he was obviously doing some mending of his clothes. “What if I had been indecent?”

Lin simply snorted. “I’ve seen you in worse conditions.” She was no doubt pertaining to the time he had gotten drunk, and she had to bail him out. “So, what is this about?” She sat at the edge of the bed, mindful of the sewing basket.

“Eh,” Bumi shrugged unconcerned but grinning. He tossed her an opened letter. “See for yourself.”

Skimming through the letter, a grin formed on Lin’s face as well. “Bumi! This is great!”

Prior to his assignment in Ba Sing Se, Bumi was short-listed for the next round of promotions. While tried and tested in the field, Bumi’s skills in diplomacy were yet to be proven. This latest assignment was a chance to prove just that.

And as in everything in his life, Bumi had to work doubly hard to prove himself. He had been a month in Ba Sing Se, attending meetings in the Royal Court, with the legislature and the kingdom’s security. He felt that he was not making a lot of leeway into reaching the accord that the United Forces needed with the Earth Kingdom. Their queen, Hou-Ting, had recently ascended to the throne and was distrustful of anything linked to the United Republic.

He had taken a couple of days off to visit his mother to take a breather and maybe a change in the scenery would give him more ideas how to approach the dilemma. He was going to sneak into the kitchen for a late breakfast when he overheard a conversation between his mother and Toph Beifong – which ended up with him seeking Lin to discuss a mutually-benefitting proposal…

This brings them to this moment where one of Bumi’s superiors had sent a missive on how one of the Earth Kingdom nobles had revisited his stance on the agreement between the United Republic and the Earth Kingdom. Included in the letter as well as a congratulatory note to continue whatever tactic he has employed as the results were in their favor. It was a simple introduction into the right company, an assistance that came in the form of Lady Lin of the Noble House of Beifong, who knew the Who’s Who in the Upper Ring of Ba Sing Se and the influential nobility in the Earth Kingdom.

“We should celebrate these little wins.” Lin handed the letter back. From her end, she will know if her presence in the upper-class of the Earth Kingdom has made any impact once she hears from her grandmother (who in turn, would have learned from one of her contemporaries living in Ba Sing Se).

“I don’t see why not.” Bumi merely tossed his mending into his sewing basket.

Grasping Lin’s arm and eagerly bringing her to the living room, he called out to his serious brother. “Tenzin! Get up, man – we’re going out to celebrate!”

---

Tenzin looked up to his beaming brother and Lin who was blushing from Bumi’s arm.

He wanted to decline joining them, fearing an outing of being the third wheel to the couple. At the same time, it had been a long time since he had spent time with Lin (and Bumi for that matter). Additionally, for some reason, that he did not want to dwell on right now, he did not want to leave the couple alone to their own devices.

Seeing Lin’s smile and Tenzin knew his decision was made for him.

It was not too bad, not really.

Lin and Bumi had tossed banter, speaking of nobles and politics that flew over Tenzin’s head. He did not bother to clarify, thinking that it must be some sort of inside joke between the two. Or something confidential related to their fields of work.

They selected a small food court still in the Middle Ring, which catered to the varied crowd with different cuisines. Bumi ordered mounds of varied barbecued meats and sauces.

Tenzin noticed that Bumi did not order anything for Lin and Lin was left perusing the menu on her own.

The waiter stood patiently; pen poised over his notepad ready for their order.

“I’ll have the green mango salad please.”

“The green mango salad for me.”

Bumi looked at them with amusement. “Seems like you’ve finally found someone who enjoys shrimp paste as much as you do, Lin.”

Lin simply pursed her lips and went on to order another entrée on top of the salad (squid ink noodles) and a glass of cold tea.

Tenzin added an order of seaweed noodles for himself.

Once their orders arrived and they have dug in, Lin and Tenzin continued to rib Bumi for not having green mango salad, which in this case, included a healthy dollop of shrimp paste.

“I’m telling you, Bumi, this salad is good.” Tenzin insisted, taking in several bites of the salad. “You can’t know until you try it.”

“No, thank you.” Bumi grimaced with slight disgust. “It stinks high heaven.”

“I find it a good deterrent on a first date,” Lin happily mixed the shrimp paste into the leafy vegetables and sliced mangoes. “Makes it easier for me to weed out those with unscrupulous intentions.”

“Seriously, Lin – unscrupulous? You’re the only other person aside from Tennyboy here who uses words with more than three syllables.” Bumi evaded a slice of mango that the earthbender tossed him. “Well, there you have it Tenzin, if you do find that unique lady who would share this horrific salad with you – you could be rest assured that she’s not after your good name, your esteem or a good time that night.”

Lin chortled. “I doubt anyone who was looking to hooking up will even order it in the first place.”

“Imagine the stink during foreplay…” Bumi waggled his eyebrows and was rewarded with a slap upside his head from the earthbender.

Tenzin thought that he would not mind sharing a salad with Lin while on a date.

As Lin reached out her chopsticks to snatch a piece of meat from Bumi’s plate, which Bumi subsequently tapped away lightly, the airbender sneaked two pieces of meat from Bumi to Lin’s plate when his brother was preoccupied.

This was the Lin that he knew, in a plain tank top and loose pants. Not the Gaoling heiress made up with a fancy bun and a tight dress. While she did look beautiful in her formal attire, Tenzin thought that she was especially radiant tonight in her natural state.

The grateful grin that Lin gave him was enough to remind him that maybe his little crush was not all gone.

---

Later that night, after Lin went home, Tenzin made a mistake of hovering in the kitchen as Bumi put away some of their leftovers.

“Something’s bothering you.”

“N-no.” Tenzin stammered out.

“You’re making that face.” Bumi waved a hand in front of Tenzin’s face.

“This is my face, that’s all.” Tenzin knew the non-bender could be stubborn and will not budge unless he gave in. “Fine.” He sighed. “Seriously, Bumi – Lin? She – she’s not even your type.”

“So, I have a type, eh?” Bumi stood up to his full height, sending a critical look at the younger man.

“You know what I mean.” Tenzin crossed his arms. He sought to phrase his thoughts in a way that will not insult either Lin or his brother. “You take her on dates, and she doesn’t seem like the usual girls you go out with.”

A flash of something crossed Bumi’s face and a knowing smile formed. “I don’t see how that’s a problem. Think about it Ten, Lin Beifong has brains, beauty, and brawn – the complete package. Anyone should think that she’s their type.” He flexed his arms, giving his brother mischievous wink. “Now, she’s got Bumi too.”

The sinking feeling that Tenzin felt since the start of the night grew heavier as he watched his brother gleefully say his good night and left him to his thoughts in the kitchen.

What was he thinking? Reviving feelings over his brother’s girlfriend? That just was not gentlemanly to do nor was it right.

---

As much as Tenzin wanted to avoid Lin, he found that it was near impossible with the frequency of Lin dropping by or Bumi coming home with Lin.

The couple would also be very considerate and would often invite him to join them at their formal events. To date, Tenzin had not accepted any of their invites yet.

It was also hard to ignore the earthbender as Lin would usually be the one to initial conversation, usually by poking through his notes and the materials sprawled on the coffee table. If there was anything that Tenzin could talk about all day, it was anything and everything to do with the Air Nation and their nomadic culture.

Lin’s sincere interest in the topics similarly encouraged him to open up to her.

And, hopefully, dare he wished, her to him.

---

Finding more in common with him with their esoteric food tastes compared to Bumi, Lin had taken to bringing some packed food from the food court from time to time.

In one of their conversations, she admitted to Tenzin that while she did enjoy eating out with Bumi, the soirees that they go to tend to serve the usual Earth Kingdom Upper Ring fare and it tends to get a little bit redundant after some time. While she would love to sample more of the dishes in the multi-cultural food court, most of the orders were good for sharing. And, after an ill-advised selection with Bumi (which ended up with the man looking green the entire night, to be fair Bumi was a champ and had not complained all night and had valiantly finished their food), Lin did not have the courage to order more with the non-bender.

To her delight, Tenzin offered to do these taste tests with her. Unfortunately, the schedules that they both adhere to had prevented any outings like the night that they all went out with Bumi.

Lin came up with a solution and would stop by the stalls and the food court to order a dish or two to try. Then, over their paperwork (Lin had taken to bringing over her own paperwork to go through at Bumi’s house), the two of them would share this meal, pretending to review the dishes with posh and snooty language they read in the lifestyle section of the Ba Sing Se gazette.

Lin found herself looking forward more and more to these nights, a reprieve from the arduous Dai Li training and highly decorous hobnobbing with the Upper Ring.

Tenzin’s calming presence and dry wit kept Lin interested to spend more time with the airbender. It was as though they were picking up back from their previously close relationship.

Don’t get her wrong, she also enjoyed the company that Bumi provided when they go out on their dates. He was a good conversationalist and he helped her deftly navigate through the upper echelon of the Earth Kingdom society. Bumi is a good older brother who shared her experience in a similar industry, someone to talk to in terms of career and the practicalities of life.

Tenzin on the other hand…

Lin tilted her head in consideration while the airbender absentmindedly tapped his pen to his chin, a mannerism that she now recognized.

The airbender made her feel heard and seen.

She made a face and turned to face her own papers.

Put it like that makes it sound so sappy and un-Lin-like.

And yet, it felt right.

---

Tenzin had finished his research an hour or so ago.

He was now vacillating between going to bed early and leaving a few books on the table, in the illogical hope that maybe when Lin drops by later with Bumi she will be intrigued enough to stay for a chat. It sounded so stupid.

A beat.

He wants that.

He looked at the clock. Lin and Bumi will not be back for a few more hours.

While he was contemplating this conundrum that he placed himself in, the door opened and in limped Bumi, an arm over Lin’s shoulder.

Tenzin immediately stood up to take Bumi’s other arm to assist. “What happened?” He peered at his brother.

“Genius here decided that he was strong enough to -.” Lin had started to respond but Bumi swiftly twisted to cover her mouth with his hand.

“It’s not important how I got injured- just that I did.” Bumi interrupted as he held Lin’s gaze.

The unspoken communication between the two was too much for Tenzin and was about to leave the couple alone when Lin rolled her eyes and mumbled her agreement.

Bumi placed his arm again on his brother’s shoulder. “Let’s hop to it, Ten-Lin.” He ordered imperiously, nodding towards his bedroom.

“Of course, my liege.” Lin muttered, snark and sarcasm dripping from her words as they assisted the non-bender.

With a bit of maneuvering, Tenzin and Lin were able to place Bumi on his bed. Tenzin then noticed the glint of metal at his brother’s foot.

“Do you need any more help?” He directed his question to Lin rather than his brother who seemed to be smiling loopily at them.

“Ooooh Ten-Lin,” Bumi called out in an odd singsong voice then patted the bed beside him. “Care to have a heart-to-heart with Papa Boomboom here?”

Papa Boomboom?

“I’m good.” Lin shook her head, pulling at Bumi’s shoes and tapping the metal brace that she appeared to have created. “The healer on site was able to give him first aid and painkillers. He’ll be out in no time.” She was resolutely ignoring Bumi’s waggling eyebrows.

Tenzin inched out and quietly closed the door behind him, not wanting to find out what Papa Boomboom was up to, similarly disregarding Bumi calling out “Ten-Lin! Ten-Lin!” as he left.

By the time Lin got out of the bedroom, the airbender was back in his spot in the living room, nursing a warm cup of genmaicha. His things were now in a neat pile on the coffee table. His hope of a conversation with Lin that he had initially looked forward to now a thing of the past. With his brother in semi-lucidity and injured to boot, no doubt Lin would be spending her visit (or even staying over) at Bumi’s bedside.

It was to Tenzin’s astonishment when Lin plopped beside him at her spot on the couch a couple of minutes later.

“Do you still have some of that?”

He blinked before realizing that Lin was pertaining to the genmaicha. “Ah yes, there’s more in the pot in the kitchen – let me get it for you.” He added belatedly, something warm curling within him at Lin’s soft smile as she thanked him.

The airbender got up to get the teapot while the earthbender proceeded to remove her shoes.

Lin was flexing then curling and uncurling her toes when he got back.

“Why do you even wear those shoes if they’re so uncomfortable?” He could not help but ask as he set the tea tray down on the table.

“It goes with the dress.” Lin nonchalantly stated as she shifted in her seat. She tucked both of her legs to her side at the couch and Tenzin had to concentrate on pouring her tea as her green silk skirt hiked a bit.

They sipped their tea in comfortable silence for a few moments.

As always, Lin was the one who broke the quiet. “Aren’t you going to ask about Bumi?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I’m not sure if I want to know what happened but I’ll bite – how is he?”

“He’ll be fine tomorrow,” Lin scoffed. “I’ve removed the brace. Nothing else bruised except for his ego. Not going to give everything away but he injured himself because of a dance move.”

Tenzin was mid-sip and had choked on the tea.

“Easy there,” Lin moved to rub Tenzin’s back in circles, in an attempt to help him.

Unknown to her, it only heightened his embarrassment and the soothing movements only contributed to his discomfort.

“Dance move?” He eventually garbled out, having regained his composure.

Lin’s lips quirked up. “Yes, don’t go teasing him on it yet though. Keep that in your back pocket. You’ll never know when you might need it.” She removed her hand on his back and Tenzin felt its absence acutely. She reached for the pot on the table to refill her own cup. She then caught sight of the title of the topmost book that Tenzin had.

As Tenzin had hoped earlier, the earthbender brought their attention to the book and asked about his progress in his research on the instruments of the Air Nomads.

Eventually the pot has been refilled and emptied, their cups left cold as their conversation suitably engaged them until the late hours of the night.

“Wouldn’t that be grand though,” Tenzin had expressed. “If we were able to have enough artifacts to host in a museum. I mean, Dad was able to transport the ancient airbending gates to Air Temple Island. It would be great if we’ll find something more to add.”

Lin, who, by now, did not care that her skirt was wrinkled and was now hugging a throw pillow to her chest, observed. “You really enjoy what you’re doing, don’t you?”

“Bits and pieces of it,” He picked at the frayed edges of his notes. “The thing I hate the most about being the Avatar’s airbending son is the travelling.”

“Oh?” The tone was non-judgmental but curious.

“I know it sounds terribly ungrateful.” Tenzin fidgeted. “But I really disliked moving from one temple to the other. I’m not made for this nomadic lifestyle. I sometimes think that being an airbender was wasted on me.” He had never spoken of this to anyone, not even his mother. “I would have been utterly contented spending my days at Republic City or at Air Temple Island even.”

He expected a rebuke or a scathing remark on him being an ingrate (Agni knows how some senior acolytes had spoken behind his back whenever he deviated from Air Nomad culture).

“What would you rather do if this wasn’t expected of you?” Lin’s gentle query and earnest expression was a balm to his anxious soul.

“Maybe a teacher or a scribe.” There was something about Lin that was drawing him in, making him want to be honest as possible. “Nothing fancy, nothing worth writing home about.”

“You’d be a good teacher,” She considered. “You’re very patient and very much willing to impart whatever knowledge you have.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, Lin’s intense grey gaze on him. “How about you? What if… you weren’t born a Beifong?”

He could see the hesitation. “Can you keep a secret?” Lin whispered, inching towards him after a few moments.

Tenzin could only nod. At this point, he will probably do anything for her.

She curled her finger at him, beckoning him closer, close enough to whisper in his ear. “I wanted to be a dancer.”

“I could see it.” There had always been something graceful with how Lin used to manipulate her metal cables. Where her mother was firmly stuck to the ground with rough movements, Lin seemed to be lighter on her feet with more fluid motions. He has not seen Lin metalbend recently; he could only imagine the difference a couple of years training would make on improving her bending.

“Really?” The surprise was apparent on her face.

Tenzin idly wondered if she, like him, thought that their dreams were ridiculous considering the heaviness of the mantle that were their parents’ legacies.

“Why not? I think you’d be good at it.” On a whim, maybe it was the lateness of the hour, the cathartic feeling of telling someone of his dream and insecurities, Tenzin let the words escape before he could even filter them. “Dance with me.” He stood up and extended a hand to the earthbender who was still curled up on the couch.

“What?” Lin’s eyes widened slightly (is that a faint blush he sees on her cheeks?).

“Dance with me.” He repeated.

“But there’s no music.” Despite saying that, she held his hand and allowed herself to be pulled up.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tenzin positioned themselves closer, he was sure it was not an airbending dance position but something he saw on a visit to the Fire Nation. “It’s just you and me now.”

After few false starts, both got into a steady rhythm with Tenzin leading.

As Lin grew more relaxed in his arms, Tenzin knew he would take what he could now. He felt like he was just doused with cold water with the epiphany he had. He was just fooling himself. His crush was not over, far from it.

His feelings were stronger than ever.

His eyes landed on Bumi’s bedroom door.

His feelings which should remain hidden as they were towards his brother’s girlfriend. His feelings which he will never act on.

It never did cross his mind to wonder why the woman was still there in the house, spending time with him willingly hours after her supposed boyfriend had turned in for the night.

---

“Nobleman with a distasteful mustache at three o'clock, Lin.” Bumi whispered at her side, clutching her elbow as they weaved through the crowd.

Lin stood ramrod straight. “That’s the nephew of one of Grandma's friends.”

It was at situations like this that she valued Bumi's presence at her side. Nonetheless, they made sure to act in accordance with proprietary.

She overheard several matrons saying that it was a pity that Lady Beifong appeared to be spoken for; their son/grandson/nephew would have been perfect for her.

However, in all the soirees and events that they have been attending, no one had outright asked them the status of their relationship. Lin was not about to disabuse them of their assumptions as no one was brave enough to confirm anything with her.

This at least left her to freely engage in conversation without fear of misconstrued intentions. This also allowed Bumi to be included in these discussions where he would expertly drop opinions or statements that may influence their thinking in relation to the United Forces or the current political climate.

No one thought twice of the presence of the non-bending son of the Avatar – If the Beifongs approved of this military son of a pacifist, then he was good enough to mingle among the Earth Kingdom elite.

As the two of them navigated their way to the buffet table, Bumi casually asked. “When this is over, aren’t you worried about them vultures descending upon you? Or Republic City gossip rags?”

Lin hummed as she perused the selection. “No, not really. We’re far away from Republic City and this is very exclusive society is not about to dish out to anyone outside of their circle. That’s what keeps them in power.” She picked up a piece of bruschetta. “And besides, maybe I’ll ask Mom to send Su here in the next season – find herself a good husband or something.”

“Lin, she’s barely twenty.” Bumi commented, eyes twinkling in amusement.

The earthbender merely shrugged.

“And, what about you?” He prodded her side as they sat back at their table. “Any romantic entanglements you see in the horizon?” It was to Bumi’s credit that he detected the barely noticeable tightening of her jaw and widening of eyes. “So, there is someone!” He announced gleefully, turning a few heads their way.

“No, there isn’t.” Lin grumbled, stabbing a fork into the plateful of food that she had taken.

“Playing dumb with me never worked, Lin Beifong, even when we were children.”

Lin hated how Bumi was able to read her easily; their equally matched observational skills honed by their respective careers.

“Don’t think I didn’t see it coming or that I did not see it happening.”

She resolutely brushed him off and focused on her plate.

“What are you going to do about it?” Where Lin might be stubborn, Bumi was downright obstinate and pushy.

“There’s nothing I should do anything about.”

Bumi glanced at her pensively over the glass he was sipping from. “Maybe you’re right – you shouldn’t have to do anything.”

“Oh Bumi, you’re reading too much into this. It doesn’t mean anything,” She turned away. “Besides, he probably has some sweetheart waiting for him at one of the temples. We’re just friends.”

It doesn’t mean anything.

We’re just friends.

At least, that was what Lin told herself even as she once again found herself sitting at Bumi’s living room that night long after Bumi had gone to bed.

---

“What did that piece of paper do to offend you?”

Tenzin paused the incessant pen tapping that he had been unconsciously doing as the notice he received was pulled from under the pen. He twiddled with his fingers while Lin read the document. “I got an offer from the university to hold a series of lectures in the coming days.”

Lin congratulated him on the offer. “What are you displeased about then? Surely it’s not about the lack of topics that you’ll discuss.” She raised an eyebrow at the stack of folders on the table, each labelled with meticulous care.

“No, it’s not that.” He waved it off. “I just – I don’t know if I can make it interesting enough for them.”

She handed him one of the folders. “Try me.”

“Come again?”

Lin leaned back in the couch, getting comfortable. “Practice with me, pretend I’m one of those bright-eyed students that you’ll be teaching.”

Yes, pretend.

Little did they know, both were pretending for each other’s sake long before they realized it.

---

“In all honesty, I envy Bumi and Kya.”

“You do?”

A nod. “They get to live their life the way they wanted it to be. There’s not a lot riding on their shoulders. Whatever they are doing now – they wanted it, they’re living the life that they want because they can.”

“Is that what you truly think?” The earthbender’s piercing stare held his gaze. He hoped that whatever she found conveyed his honesty. “Maybe you need to check in with them. They might see things differently.”

---

It was one of the rare weekends that Bumi, Lin, and Tenzin found themselves free from any engagement. They took this opportunity to head to dine at their usual food court.

While Bumi and Lin scouted for an empty table, Tenzin browsed the menu of one of the newly opened stalls.

“Master Tenzin?”

Tenzin turned to who called him and came face to face with a vaguely familiar woman.

“I’m Pema – from the lectures?” The student obviously expected that he would remember her.

“Ah yes,” Tenzin awkwardly responded because he did not really recall a lot from the sea of faces. “From yesterday’s morning session?”

The girl, Pema, beamed at him, nodding. “And the afternoon session from the day before, and the one session lecture the day before that.”

“Oh, so you managed to attend all of them?” There was mild interest in his tone now. Maybe he was able to get through the Ba Sing Se students. “Which topic interested you the most?”

Pema began to explain excitedly when Tenzin saw Lin wave at him from a few tables away.

“Say, are you eating alone?” At the very least, politeness made him invite the young woman.

“I-I-That is to say -no- I mean, yes.” Pema shifted her eyes.

“Would you like to join us?” At her nod, Tenzin motioned to have her follow him to their table.

Upon approaching, Tenzin saw that Lin and Bumi had already given their orders to the waiter.

At Lin’s raised eyebrow and Bumi’s curious look, Tenzin introduced Pema and said that she would be joining them today.

The waiter handed both a copy of the menu while Tenzin pulled the chair in front of Bumi for Pema to sit on.

“Ahh, Pema, is it?” Bumi placed an arm around the back of Lin’s chair. “Any idea what you would be getting?”

“I, um, not sure yet.” She hid behind the menu, brows furrowing.

Bumi grinned mischievously while catching his brother’s eye.

That can’t be good, Tenzin thought silently.

“Might I make a recommendation?” The non-bender leaned forward and at Pema’s nod, pointed on an item on the menu she was holding. “Tenzin loves this.” Bumi winced subtly that Tenzin could surmise was because Lin must have kicked him under the table.

“Oh, yes of course!” Was Pema’s immediate reaction and ordered.

Tenzin was surprised and ordered his food as well. When the waiter had taken all their orders and left, the airbender turned to the student. “You like the green mango salad?”

“Yes, I do – I enjoy it a lot.” Pema enthusiastically agreed.

“Even the shrimp paste?” Bumi asked innocently but sending a sly look at Lin, who steadfastly kept silent.

“Especially the shrimp paste. It gives it the texture and distinct salty taste.”

“Indeed.”

Tenzin finally caught Lin’s eye and there was an odd expression on her face that he could not explain.

Bumi proceeded to liven up the table with conversation and even make Pema feel at ease. It was one of the traits of his brother that Tenzin envied.

The rest of their meal went by uneventfully and they all got to know Pema a little bit more and her interest in the lectures from the past days. As Bumi did not draw attention to the unusually taciturn earthbender beside him, Tenzin did not attempt to draw her into conversation as well despite his confusion. Lin would commonly be a little bit more talkative during their small outings like this.

Maybe she had a bad day?

As the meal winded down, Tenzin thought he rather wanted to see more of Pema. At least, to not remain as a third wheel to the couple in front of him.

“So, we might have, uh, tea after dinner. Would you like to join us?”

Pema’s effusive acceptance became garbled to his ears as he detected the sudden screeching of the metal chair in front of him being pushed back.

“I’m sorry, I need to go.”

Both Bumi and Tenzin turned to Lin, who was only maintaining eye contact with her boyfriend.

“Oh right, your… report.” Bumi motioned to stand up as well. “Do you want me to bring you home?”

His brother’s unexpectedly gentle tone made Tenzin think if there is something else that he missed. A subtext that passed known only to the couple.

Lin tilted her head and smiled weakly. “No need, I can manage.”

Nonetheless, Bumi stood up, made their excuses to Tenzin and Pema.

Tenzin looked on as Lin allowed herself to be escorted by Bumi. The lie of having a report waiting for her tasting bitter in the airbender’s mouth.

But why?

“I suppose tea is out of question now.” Pema said shrewdly, moving to stand up as well when Bumi and Lin was out of their line of sight.

Maybe she was more perceptive than Tenzin gave her credit for.

If Pema thought that he was about to invite her elsewhere, she was mistaken, and Tenzin extended his hand to shake hers. “Pleased to meet you, Pema, thank you.” He paused and somewhat awkwardly added. “And good luck on your studies.”

Tenzin closed his eyes for a moment, a headache already forming.

He froze.

There on the table, beside Pema’s empty plate of what used to contain her order of skewers, was a full bowl of green mango salad, mixed but not a single bite taken out of it.

---

“You’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“She’s too young.”

He knew his older brother was right, but it stung to be called an idiot.

Ever since Lin urged him to talk to his siblings, Tenzin had consciously made time to connect to Bumi.

Along the way, he learned about how different their views of their childhood were. Bumi, on his part, was quite candid and the airbender appreciated that. More than once, Tenzin was tempted to evade some of their talks that were bordering on painful (cut-and-run much?). He felt that he owed it to his brother though to power through.

But tonight, there were emotions that were too raw to filter. If the couple just wanted some time together, they need not fabricate Lin having to work on a report. They need not pity him for being their third wheel.

“Lin is too young for you too and you don’t hear me berating you for it.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it, really?”

“Well, if you get your head out of your behind, maybe you’ll see what’s right in front of you.”

---

Letters swapped hands.

“Training’s almost done and as you can see there, Grandma has already received news from the grapevine about what an asset I am to the Beifong line.”

Bumi refolded the letter after reading. “I suppose your time in Ba Sing Se has come to an end then?”

“Only if you think you don’t need me anymore.” Lin paused and gave a short laugh, finding her phrasing funny. “I mean, if you think you don’t need help anymore with your assignment?” She leaned back, tapping the letter from Bumi’s superior in her hand.

“I should say mission accomplished to us both.” Bumi drew Lin into his arms. “Thank you.”

It was most unfortunate that it was in this good-bye scene that the airbender arrived to.

---

The raindrops continue to fall, leaving staccato beats on the roof top.

The entirety of Ba Sing Se was coated in a haze that enveloped the typically green and brown place in a blueish gray hue.

The peaceful scene should have relaxed the airbender.

Tenzin sighed.

But it did not.

Not when he could hear characteristically feminine giggles from his brother's room.

He checked the clock, too early to have visitors over unless it were visitors who never left the night before.

His knuckles turned white, tightly grasping his mug.

As much as he felt that he should come clean to Bumi about his feelings for Lin (his girlfriend), his head was telling him not to. It would be another thing that Bumi might hold against him (on top of a lot of other childhood insecurities that their father inadvertently caused).

He just wants both Lin and Bumi to be happy. Even if it means hearing what they have been up to in the early hours of the day.

“Ah, Spirits what a turn out – it’s as though Tui and La decided to inundate the entire Earth Kingdom by flooding it.”

Tenzin’s head jerked up.

Lin Beifong was standing in the edge of their kitchen, hair dripping wet.

His mind was sluggish in realizing, shocked as it was to see the earthbender.

“Do you still have some of that?” Lin waggled her fingers towards Tenzin’s mug of genmaicha.

“Oh, yes – where are my manners –.” Tenzin tripped over his words and hastily poured her a cup. Then reaching over to the coat rack and draping his coat over her, he admonished her lightly. “What were you doing out in this deluge anyway? You’ll get sick!”

“Well, Bumi told me that you intend to leave in a few days’ time and as I was preparing for my trip back to Republic City, I thought that -.”

A door creaked open. “Lemme grab us a bite from the pantry; we need sustenance if we want to last all the way to noon.”

Damn.

“Oh.” Bumi stumbled into the room, completing their peculiar tableau of a dripping earthbender cloaked in red and yellow, a pale shock airbender standing at the edge of the room and a military man that, for whatever intent and purposes he may have, was wearing nothing.

Tenzin’s pale skin started to redden, comprehension dawning on him. “Oh – that’s all you have to say?” If Lin was here – then who was with Bumi the entire night/morning back in his bedroom?

The non-bender scratched his bum. “What did you want me to say?”

“Oh, for Spirits’ sake, Bumi cover yourself!” Lin averted her eyes. “I may not act like it the whole time, but I still am a lady!”

“Ah Beifong,” Bumi smiled devilishly, his hand moving from his head to his legs. “Come take a look at what you’re actually missing out on.”

Lin pointedly faced the ice box, her back to the naked man. “No way, I’m not missing on anything.”

“Come on, Linny!”

“No, Bumi.” Lin snorted a laugh then bent her head over her cup of genmaicha.

Tenzin felt like he was going to explode.

How dare Bumi disregard Lin Beifong just like that? Flaunting his floozy---

How dare Lin not call him out – it was beyond disrespectful!

What’s more: being in a relationship with Lin was something he personally wanted for himself - not because of his father, not because he is an airbender, but because he wanted this. To see Bumi taking her for granted was like a knife twisting in his chest.

“Get yourself some clothes before you catch a cold.”

“You dry yourself before you catch a cold.”

Why were they skirting over the obvious issue?

Tenzin let out a strangled sound.

“Something wrong, Tennyboy? Your vein is about to burst on your forehead.”

“Something wrong?” The airbender’s voice went a pitch higher. “Something. Wrong. You –.” He pointed aggressively at his brother. “Just spent the night with some,” He clenched and unclenched his fist as he tried to select the appropriate word. “Woman that is not your girlfriend!”

Lin’s eyes shot to Bumi’s. “You have a girlfriend?”

Bumi raised both hands. “Wait a minute, you know I don’t. This,” His shoulder gestured towards the bedroom. “Is a recent development and it’s just for fun, you know, and she definitely knows.”

“What!” Tenzin’s gasped out.

“Wait a minute,” Bumi snapped his fingers. “Lin, you didn’t tell him?”

“Tell me what?”

“Tell him what?” The earthbender scrunched her face thinking before it cleared as she seemed to have concluded something. “Oh. No. I didn’t – I didn’t think I had to –!”

Tenzin felt he was watching a ball go back and forth between the other two.

“You’re the one talking to him often.” Bumi crossed his arms.

“You’re the one living with him.” Lin pointed at the airbender.

“You’re the one in love with him!”

A stunned silence followed.

Surely… Bumi was mistaken?

---

Bumi ran a hand over his face. “I think you both have a lot to talk about.” Then, he grabbed the nearest food on the table (a loaf of sweet mung bread). “I’ll leave you both to it.” He waved the loaf then exited the kitchen.

Lin considered the tea in her cup, focusing as though it could lend her the fortitude for the upcoming conversation.

Tenzin sat on the chair opposite her, taking a sip from his own genmaicha. “Feel like explaining what that was?”

As an earthbender, Lin went into it head on. “Bumi and I are not – were not – in a relationship – we – I thought that was clear.” Then she proceeded to explain the arrangement that she had with his brother. “I’m sorry if we made you feel uncomfortable with this.” She waved her hand uselessly.

Lin bit her lip anxiously. She blew on her cup, waiting for the airbender to process the information that was dumped on him.

---

Two things ran through his mind.

Firstly, Bumi and Lin are not (never were!) in a relationship.

That key revelation echoed, unlocking several objections that he had repeatedly told himself to tamp down his feelings for the earthbender.

Secondly, it did not escape his notice that Lin did not say anything to refute Bumi’s claim.

His heart beat loudly, feeling like it was up in his throat. Excitement and nervousness made it difficult for him to breath, ironic for an airbender.

“Lin,” Tenzin cleared his throat. “And what Bumi said,” He leaned forward to tilt her head up so he could look at her eyes. He gulped and took a deep breath. “Is it true?” He felt Lin pull back for a second before she slowly nodded.

Without a hint of hesitation, Tenzin stood up to gather Lin in his arms, feeling complete and contented, something alien to him, something he had not felt for the longest time.

“I take it you like me too?” A muffled voice at his chest murmured.

“More than.” Tenzin bent his head, putting his forehead against Lin’s, unmindful of how her wet clothes now clung to them both. “I love you too.” He then closed the gap between their lips.

They would have gone longer if Lin had not shuddered involuntarily. They separated slightly, arms still around each other.

“I’m sorry, I probably need to get dried.”

Tenzin peered down at Lin’s now translucent attire. “Better yet, let’s get you out of those wet clothes. That is – if you don’t have any objections to it?”

“None whatsoever.” Lin tiptoed, pressing her lips to him. “No boyfriend, no rumored beau…Care to help me out?”

“Gladly.”

#linzin #linzin fanfic #lin beifong #tenzin #legend of korra fanfic #bumi is a good bro #toccatina's fanfics #toccatina completed

40 notes · View notes

chidoroki · 4 years ago

Text

TPN - Krone one-shot

Ah, another extra chapter. Shirai and Demizu are so good to us. Anyways, I was quite surprised learning more about Krone's time training at the sister academy. From what little we saw from her and Isabella's flashbacks in early chapters and season 1, we know how competitive and serious the girls are at the facility, given the extreme nature of everyone's current situation. All the girls are quite literally fighting for their own lives here, so once Cecile was introduced, I was pleasantly surprised. (this is our first time meeting her right?)

We soon learn that both were from the same GF house and as any natural older sibling would do, she steps in to help Krone avoid getting scolded by finding her missing embroidery. She then makes it plainly clear that it is best not to show any sort of weakness while at the facility. Everyone there is prove themselves worthy of becoming a sister or mother, and if they don't fulfill those qualifications, they'll be killed.

Having a close friend in such a terrible place provides Krone with minimal comfort, as Grandma Sarah (that's her name, correct?) reveals how slim their chances are at surviving. Only one girl will survive? That's rough.. and wasteful I feel like? I know there's only four premium farms with about 5(?) houses each, so mom and sister positions are very limited, but wow. Fighting off the other girls might not be much of a challenge emotionally, but to compete against your own sibling? Well, that's different. Fortunately for Krone, Cecile has other intentions. (can i say that at this point i already love this girl?)

A hopeful idea, of course, but Krone brings up the chip they each have implanted in their hearts. You leave the facility? Dead. You somehow break the chip? The higher-ups get notified and you're as good as dead anyway. Cecile mentions how the pocket watch Grandma has doubles as a sort of gadget that could disable their chips, so all that has to be done is steal it and use it for themselves. Cecile's wealth of knowledge doesn't stop there, as she then shows Krone a map of the entire headquarters that was secretly put together by former trainees that once thought of escaping. At first, I found this a little hard to believe. One, that such an embroidery was passed down so often between other girls over an unknown amount of time and someone like Grandma never found it. Two, that there were so many girls who were willing to help each other out like this.. but then I remembered ch170 and how eager and willing the ladies were to join together under Isabella's command, so I believe it.

As their plan is set in motion, we see familiar events take place, such as the girls physically fighting with each other (because being buff is somehow a prerequisite to look after children? you know, just in case they try to escape and you need to break some legs). I re-watched Krone's flashbacks in ep8 just to see if any of the girls there could possibly be identified as Cecile, but it didn't work out well since that scene is all monochrome anyway, so no luck trying to spot her blonde hair, blue eyes or even her ID number. Seeing them work together though is great.

Honestly, I never really got attached to Krone upon my first watch of the series. Yeah her movements are very animated and fun to watch when she speaks, she's absolutely terrifying when it comes to playing tag, but she never had one of those moments where I was like “okay, I like this character now.” That, and she gets killed off so her screen-time was really limited. Having her plot against the kids was another reason I kinda pushed her aside too, but I'm still thankful she gave them the WM pen (because who knows where they would all be without it). Seeing her and Cecile just act like normal kids and talk about their dreams though, that did it for me. They're both precious!

Anyways, after Grandma forced them to watch some other girl die after a failed escape attempt, due to her heart chip, our girls proceed with their plan, as they make stealing Grandma's watch top priority, lest they end up like the poor girl who just lost her life. Krone manages to successfully claim the watch at the perfect opportunity.. only to be completed fooled.

Not only by the watch, which ends up being just a normal tracker, but by Cecile herself. Needless to say, that I also felt betrayed by this girl because damn it! How could you?! I swear, I just started to like this chick!

I had my doubts before. I knew it was too good to be true that even if these two girls had history together, that it meant absolutely nothing in a harsh environment like this, and Cecile takes great pride in reminding us of that.

It's because of this betrayal that we finally see the Krone we became so familiar with upon her transfer back to GF. Can't really blame her though. To find out that the only person you could trust suddenly turned on you for their own personal gain? Yeah, that's painful. No wonder she had to harden her heart.

I once thought of Krone's plan of taking down Isabella was foolish, (because that woman is an absolute queen and you need all the luck in the world if you wanted to accomplish that) but she had the utmost confidence she could pull it off because she has done it before to her once best friend. With survival as her main goal, Krone wastes no time in selling out Cecile as the mastermind to their escape plan.

Fantastic. She's learning how to take out her competition, thus granting her better chances at becoming a sister or mom. Good for her right? Sure, but also, wrong! TPN then decides to do what it does best: get me emotional, because poor Cecile did all of that just to help Krone survive! She saw how unguarded and scared Krone was upon joining the sister academy. She then vowed, as her older sibling, to protect and prepare her for the cruel reality of this world by teaching her how to be ruthless and survive. (though i'm sure there could've been easier way to accomplish this? like i know only one chick was gonna survive from their class but holy hell, did you have to go through such extremes?)

As if the newest member of the self-sacrifice club didn't upset me enough, they decide to give us this sky scene that is only gonna hit my feels harder whenever I decide to watch episode 8 back again..

Aahh.. I love all these extra chapters we've been getting, truly, but must they always make me feel bad for these characters? These girls deserved so much better! I'm sad. I think Cecile is great. Her methods are a bit extreme but her heart was in the right place.. and now they're both in a better place, ha.

(we're getting an extra chapter for isabella sometime in the future as well and if it's gonna be another sad backstory, then i'm so not ready for it.. i already know i'm gonna cry. i love that woman.)

#the promised neverland #tpn manga #tpn krone #tpn cecile #sister krone #cecile #chidoroki used chatter

116 notes · View notes

dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years ago

Text

Chizuru Town: The Dark and the Cold

TW: perverts TW: Death TW: Blood TW: Dragon Raja LMAO

Caesar and the MC should have been best friends. I kid you not. Revamped Story Quest in Chizuru below the cut!

In Siberia, winter hung long and low. Just as the tropic summer never seemed to end, the frigid canopy of arctic air never really left the place. For a few months, the sun didn’t rise over the horizon. At the peak of what should have been day, you only saw the glow of what looked more like the start of the dawn, before the sun rolled over and fell back under the horizon. Darkness descended in full and the stars were your only source of light unless you made your own.

The cold was so oppressive that it froze the sea. At night, instead of waves crashing on a golden shore, the ocean groaned like someone dying. Only in the summer, when the ice and permafrost softened, did you see hints of green. But they were always short. Eventually, the winter returned. Those who wanted to pretend it would not return were caught out by the fierce wind, unprepared, and froze to death in seconds.

Darkness and cold were embedded in you, MC, more than the weather. You understand the harshness of the world. Even though Caesar was doing his best to ‘play by the rules’ that icy law of ‘survival of the most deadly' was creeping up to surround all of you, like frost on a window. It had swallowed up Kitty and now Ms. Makoto. Only Caesar, Chu Zihang, and Lu Mingfei were left.

If that icy law dared threaten them, you would not hold back or play by any rules.

Caesar glimpsed this reality and tacitly acknowledged that Kitty’s death and Makoto’s offering to serve as bait for the gangsters was not in his game plan. He was looking outside down the drainage pipe through the hole in the wall of the dilapidated locker room. He could see the street below.

A heavy rain storm had moved over the city of Chizuru. EVA had darkened the city to help you escape the eyes of the Hydra underworld gang, but soon her grip would lose out to Kaguya, the Hydra’s own supercomputer.

Below, Caesar saw cars parked, engines still running, lights still on. Doubtless, these gangsters thought this would be a quick and easy job. Plus, the headlamps of cars served as good illumination. So they didn’t worry about them getting stolen. After all, they ran this town. No one dared touch their cars for fear of getting killed over it. Caesar nodded once. “Let’s see how good these kids are at racing.”

Kids. The word makes you want to spit acid. They were quite young but had nearly killed you countless times!

Caesar turned to look at you, gauging your reaction. “They are just kids. I hold the adults behind them more responsible.”

You stare back at him in silence but your expression is blank, listening. Your mind offers no arguments against the facts. Caesar’s logic seeps through, melting your frozen emotions. They had pursued you relentlessly, as if under strict orders not to leave until you were confirmed dead. Some of their weapons were military grade. It was true that children -- sixteen to twenty year olds -- wouldn't have been able to acquire such immense firepower without some sort of help from a higher authority.

Caesar’s eyes drop from your face. “Is that a local high school uniform?”

“Yes,” you say, your voice unexpectedly hoarse.

“Change out of it into one of the cheongsams here. I’ll be taking the car and I don’t want to be seen in a sports car with someone who looks like a high schooler. They might mistake me for one of those perverts!”

Even now, he was thinking of something like this? He could have escaped immediately but was concerned about his image? You quickly obey, snatching one of the red and gold cheongsams with a Chinese dragon embroidery off the hangers and stepping into the dressing room.

As you remove our clothes, you hear Caesar say. “Fold it up neatly, so we can return it to whomever you got it from.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief. Well, of course, you needed to steal it. But you never thought once of taking it back. As you slip into the cheongsam, the smooth fabric falls over your skin. A mirror lays against the wall and you use it to pull the zipper up in the back. The cheongsam clings to your form like a second skin.

Caesar wasn’t just following the rules. If he was just following the rules, he wouldn’t have cared about any of this.

You had told Caesar about your experience in watching your young friends get killed. He wanted to get back at those people, not become one of them by killing anyone young himself. No matter how hard things got, Caesar was the same because he believed in what he did and required everyone around him to rise to the same standard of morality.

You step out of the dressing room and Caesar nods. “Alright, let’s go. Zihang, you can pick whatever granny car suits you best. I’ll be in the Black Viper!” He grinned broadly.

“Will Ms. Makoto be alright?” Lu Mingfei asked.

Chu Zihang nodded slightly. “She wasn’t seen with us. And they’re under orders. If they were going to hurt her, they would have done so right then and there. She’ll be fine.”

“Excuse me, my lady.” Caesar bends over to pick you up and keep you out of the dirty water.

You take the pipe two streets down and then hurry back to the running cars. Even now, Caesar opens the door for you first and then slides over the hood to the other side. The car interior is shiny and black with an LED touch panel lighting it up like a spaceship. In the center console, you spot a bag of white powder.

“Heroin?” You ask.

He points to the door on the other side of you. “Put on your seatbelt. How did you know it was heroin?”

“We used such medicine in Russia, I should know how to identify it.”

“To you, it’s medicine. Here it’s illegal drugs used to hype up the gangsters and also to make money. No wonder they were so crazy and could afford such vehicles.” Caesar opened a fuse box and started pulling out wires. While he worked, he asked, “Have you ever been in a car like this?”

“No.” You say, tucking the high school uniform under the seat. “Where I’m from, the only way to get around is either by ship or by dogsled.”

He grins. “Good. You’re about to get the ride of your life!”

“Ah, in return, then I will take you dog sledding.”

“You mean it?” Caesar immediately whipped his head around. His eyes glowed with excitement and joy, like a child being told they were going to Disney World. He was so enthusiastic that you felt embarrassed. In that sudden smile, you realized that he was actually quite good looking.

“It’s… It’s not all that special.”

“What would be more special than riding on a dogsled with a beautiful lady?” He sat up and put on his own seatbelt while continuing to work on the car’s controls.

The car isn’t free to move however. There are vehicles parked around, blocking your way out. But you don’t see Chu Zihang or Lu Mingfei in any of them.

“Beautiful?” You look at him with a confused expression. No one had ever called you beautiful before. You shake your head. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better about Kitty.”

His eyes narrow and he suddenly grins in a way that reminds you of a devil. “No, this is how I get back at them for Kitty.” He yanked on the gear shift between the leather seats and slammed down on the accelerator. The car leaped backwards and smashed into the blue Porsche behind them, folding the front end of it.

He shifted again, this time the car leaped forward right into a Mini Cooper. Caesar, eyes shining in furious joy, turns the wheel and rolls over a custom green vintage Buick to their left. The car you were in had turned into a vicious beast in his hands. It smashed doors, windows, mirrors and headlamps until you were surrounded by destruction.

“Hey MC,” He laughed, “Check out the rearview mirror.”

He reaches up and turns it so you can see. Behind you, the boys all run out of the cafe, holding their heads and wailing in despair at the millions of dollars in damage Caesar had caused. He watches with clear delight as your face breaks into a sunny grin.

Suddenly, a burst of gunfire sends the boys scattering. The squeal of tires is heard and you see Chu Zihang and Lu Mingfei speed away in a Red Viper. Caesar clicks his tongue. “Why does he have to pick the same car…?” He laments.

The engine roars as Caesar commands the car to push the front end of the Mini Cooper ahead of you and shove it out of the way. But he’s still looking back at the young men who are scrambling to find undamaged cars and climb inside.

“There’s a lovely mountain road near here. With really nice curves. You don’t get sick do you?”

“You mean motion sickness? No, I’ve been on ships before. I don’t get dizzy.” You look behind you into shining headlights. The boys are prepared to give chase. It wouldn’t be much of a fun race if Caesar got too far ahead. He wanted them to see how much better a driver he was.

He let the headlights of the Maserati behind him get just close to kiss his bumper, then downshifted and floored it. MC squeaks and is pressed back against the seat. The headlights of the car, so close one moment, faded quickly behind you, like the other cars were standing still. The main highway up the mountains climbed steeply into a curve ahead but Caesar didn’t tap the brakes. The engine kept up the steady purr and took the turns perfectly smoothly.

It felt like flying, rising into the sky on a great beast. The trees passed you by in a blur and the guard rail looked like a shiny silver ribbon in the headlights. The feeling of delight tickles your chest and you giggle.

It was such an unfamiliar feeling, one you shouldn’t be having right now. Yet, now it was being teased out of you. It was as though the sun had peeked over the horizon in midwinter. Caesar had actually won. In the side mirror that remained from the demolition derby earlier, you see the lights of Chizuru burst back into bloom. The gangsters had returned to town and left you alone.

You’d never met anyone like Caesar. So you didn’t know it was possible to live like he did and still be able to survive. You doubted him at every turn and you were forced to reconsider again and again. This world that created predators like you could also create someone else. Someone who survived bloodlessly, cleanly. Something like this was mythical, like a unicorn.

Or a dragon.

A musical tone sounded in the car. It was coming from Caesar’s pocket. He pulled out his cellphone and held it to his ear. You don’t know what was said, but his expression suddenly changed from one of breezy confidence to blazing fury! He slams the brakes hard and the car spins in a complete one eighty to face the opposite direction.

“Did they say the name Makoto Aso?”

The hairs rise on the back of your neck.

Caesar takes a deep breath and lets it out but his hand is gripping the steering wheel so tightly that the leather cover squeals under the pressure.

You can’t help but think that she’s dead, that the gangsters had killed her.

“What did he say last?” Caesar asked.

A pause.

“Oh.. he won’t have long to wait to get his car back.” Caesar’s voice was low and his smile was threatening.

Was it nice to stand in the sun for a while? It sure felt nice. You say goodbye to it in your heart. You would never see it again. The world had made its true nature known. It was darkness and winter.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut our joyride a little short. They have Ms. Makoto.”

“Is she dead?”

“No. Hold tight.”

You let your breath out in a whoosh and, for a second, you think that maybe there would be another chance to end this bloodlessly. The thought pops into your head and then disappears like a comet, a last glimmer of hope before you change your mind. No, it's really over. These people were not going to let you go.

Caesar observed the light leave your eyes and picked up the phone again. “Mingfei, tell Zihang to take you a few blocks away from the Cafe. Use the back entrance he used before, if possible. Find her and rescue her, I’ll buy you time. Mingfei, be ready to provide us cover fire. Yes, I know you only have one gun left! That will be enough. You’re a good shooter, even by Cassell standards. You’ll outshoot those boys easily.”

He was still trying.. But the icy cold had gripped your heart again and you could no longer believe him. They’d been outgunned and now outsmarted. As you return to town, you see that the cars that had been pursuing you turned back, not out of respect for Caesar’s driving skills, but to create a barrier between you and the cafe. Sitting on the hoods of those cars were the workers at the Cafe, still in their cheongsams, shivering in the rain, serving as human shields.

Ms. Makoto was on the roof of the building that was set ablaze. It wasn’t a steel structure but made from old wood construction. So not even the driving rain could put it out. The wind ruffled her skirt as she stood on the edge of the building. The heat must have been terrible. If you don’t hurry, she would either burn to death or jump to her death.

You don't look at Caesar. You’re still, as if your whole body were completely frozen. He was not a magical unicorn or a mighty dragon. He’d just underestimated his opponent.

The man in the striped suit who had been caught stealing Makoto’s panties danced on top of a van in sheer glee at seeing you again, a shotgun in his hands. The gangsters cheered and chanted in victory. Rather than being the weak person you thought he was, he was the one who had ratted Makoto out. He’d hid in the locker you’d shoved him in, perfectly aware that she had helped you escape. He’d just pretended to be intimidated.

He was actually the leader of the whole group.

“Maybe I should have let you have that Beretta.” Caesar’s voice was cold.

You huff once through your nose as your only acknowledgement. It was too late to regret now. Part of you feels sad that you were right about needing to kill those gangsters. But you don’t request he give you a weapon. There was a principle in hunting that you don’t shoot until you’re very close to your quarry, close enough to see the pattern of light in the beast's eyes. That meant a lot of time, and a lot of patience. The goal was one shot, one kill. Instant. The deer or elk would drop without a struggle.

If you rushed in now and poured your violence onto them, Caesar would have reason to doubt you because you didn’t give him time to implement his plan. You feel bad for Ms. Makoto, but you’re going to sit on your hands.

After all, if Caesar could pull a miracle out of this, maybe he would truly be a magician.

But if things went wrong, and Caesar’s life was at risk, he could put forth no further arguments against your actions and you would be free from objections, not only now, but in the future as well.

So when he says, “Stay in the car.” you nod obediently.

Caesar has parked just out of range of their bullets. Even if they had more high powered weaponry, they were unskilled and would likely miss at this distance. Caesar takes his own gun and shoots through the windshield of the car. It shattered into a spiderweb of cracks and now you can’t see anything. He uses the butt of the gun to make a hole in the glass to see through. The rain pours in, running over the leather interior.

Caesar’s phone rang again. “Mingfei?” This time he put it on speaker.

“Yes, he’s on the phone with us again.”

“Translate. Don’t leave anything out. Understand?”

“Okay. Is… MC alright?”

“She’s more than fine. With me right now. What is he saying?”

The man was on the phone, seated cross legged on the roof of the van, smiling like an imp.

Mingfei translated: “He says he was grateful to the young master of the Gattuso family for bringing his car back.”

“Tell him I’ll bury him in a coffin full of ladies’ underwear.”

“Boss, don’t make threats in this situation, okay? They have Ms. Makoto!”

“I’m aware. Just translate.” Caesar was calm, focussed.

Mingfei sighed. “No need for you to worry about me, Gattuso-kun, I’m already prepared.”

The man in the striped suit produced a pair of silk panties from his pocket, pressed them to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Ah! Ms. Makoto really smells pleasant!”

Your eyelids stretch a little wider. His lack of fear was chilling you even deeper, like an icy wind over an already frozen sea. Without moving your head, your eyes shift to Caesar.

This man wants Caesar to come to him. He wanted to fight. There had to be a good reason for his bravado. However, Caesar was falling for it. You could see the veins pop into relief on his neck and forehead. And just like with everything Caesar decides, you know, deep down, there’s no point in talking him out of it. If he turned around now, Ms. Makoto would surely die.

Caesar’s eyes scanned the defensive line, moving over the huddled victims on the hoods of the cars. Now it was Caesar, not you, who gave off the killer’s aura, like a bull elk, stamping the ground and tossing his mighty antlers.

He lifted his shoulders in a deep sigh. You relax your hands that had begun to grip your skirt, a habit that hadn’t appeared in you since you were ten years old.

“Who’s giving you orders?”

“Orders? Does Akabe need orders? Hahaha! No one instructs Akabe except the Lord Takeda Shingen himself!” The man is practically falling over himself in glee.

“Whatever that man is offering, the Gattuso family offers three times as much!” Caesar said with measured calm. “I guarantee that you will get the money alive.”

“Hehehehehe! Luckily, that Lord has already told me what kind of family the Gattuso family is, otherwise, I would have really been tempted by that price!” The suited man, Akabe, suddenly stopped laughing, like a switch had been turned off. “I’ll get the money alive, but I’ll be shot in the head before I can spend a cent of it… right, Gattuso-kun…?”

Caesar had nothing to say, since he was right. The people who blackmailed money from the Gattusos never lived long enough to spend it. He finally gave in. “Then what do you want?”

“You have a gun in your hand, right? Use the gun to shoot yourself in the calf and wrist. We know that you, Gattuso-kun, are a Class A hybrid, and Chu kun is also a Class A hybrid, and we’re too scared to get close when heroes like you are able-bodied.” Akabe said smoothly. “We don’t want to kill you either, our mission is to bring you to that Lord, for disposal.”

His words fell on your ears and they stirred you inside. Right now, Chu Zihang was running around a burning building. Mingfei Lu was going to start a gunfight, one against dozens, and Caesar and Chu Zihang were the targets. They said nothing about you. It’s like you weren’t even here. They can’t see you through the broken glass so you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Wait.” Caesar says.

The man in the suit scowls. “Wait for what?”

“Mingfei! Why did you translate that!” Caesar hissed.

“What? I wasn’t supposed to?” Mingfei squeaked.

You slip out of your cheongsam, not caring if Caesar saw or not. His morality no longer applied. Following it was obviously going to get them all killed. “Tell him you’re going to offer me as a payment for your lives. It will buy you more time.”

“How do you know you won’t shoot me in the head once I’m unable to fight back? Translate that Mingfei.”

“Because I’m a man of my word!” Akabe said.

“How can I trust the word of a man who sneaks into the women’s locker room and steals underwear?”

You’re putting the schoolgirl uniform back on, buttoning the white shirt. “Give me your knife…” you whisper. Much to your delight, he hands it over. The word ‘Dictator’ is etched into the side and you use it to slice off the hem of the skirt, leaving just enough fabric for decency.

“It’s just entertainment, who doesn’t have a hobby? I just like the fabrics that smell good after coming off a girl’s body. It’s the same reason you like cigars, Gattuso-kun!” The man shamelessly takes several deep whiffs of his newly pilfered underpants.

“Okay.” You said confidently, “Tell him that you’ll offer me as payment instead. It doesn’t matter if he accepts or not, we're just buying time for Chu Zihang, right?”

He hesitates, his eyes flicking towards you.

You lean on the center console. “I promise, I won’t do anything. I trust you to handle this.”

He nods slowly. “Then. How about I offer you a fresh cigar?” He says to Akabe.

You open the passenger side door and step out. Caesar made it clear that he wasn’t lying when he said you were beautiful and you felt that, if you could stake your odds on anything, it would be his sincerity. After all, Caesar had seen many beautiful women before you. He had a beautiful fiancee. You just had to make it work so that you were irresistible to this man.

While browsing the comic book store, you picked up a manga. In the first panels, a girl walked in a school uniform, holding her black bag in front of her. Her hands were clasped, her arms framing her oversized chest, the fabric wrinkling just so, to show the outline. In the next panel, a gentle breeze lifts the hem of her skirt, showing a peek of the hem of her panties. Lu Mingfei saw what you were looking at and snatched it away, screeching that it was inappropriate.

You had no doubt that this man read comics like that though.

So that’s why you cut the hem of the skirt and when you stepped out of the car, you held your hands in front of you, just like the girl in the manga. The rain soaked you in minutes and, though you still were far away, the fabric soaked up the water, and clung to your young body as you walked slowly.

Your black hair was loose, falling over your shoulders and sticking to your shiny face. All the boys in front of the Internet Cafe were in stunned disbelief. If that weren’t enough, the universe conspired with you and the wind came and lifted your hair and the hem of your skirt. The eyes of every boy followed that hem, entranced to see nothing but skin and then, a tiny, peek of black lace.

Chu Zihang only knew your size. He didn’t care about the style of women’s underwear. He just reached into the vending machine, grabbed what was nearest and tossed it to you, unaware that he was handing you sexy lace.

The man in the striped suit suddenly ran his sleeve over his mouth and chin to clear his drool.. You could no longer hear the translation, but from the look of his wide eyes and his breathless gasping in the phone, you figured you’d done a good enough job.

He screeched at the boys who snapped out of their trances and hurried to get behind you. He was roaring at them, even pointing his gun at them, making sure they knew that you were his personal prize. Once you reached the van, he reached up to you and helped you climb on top of the van to sit with him, all the way, screeching at the boys below you, who averted their eyes obediently.

He wrapped one arm around your waist and sneered at Gattuso some more before turning to lick your cheek and smell your neck. His eyes are wild as he talks on the phone, laughing, gleefully delighted. He was talking rapidly now. Though you couldn’t understand, it was clear he thought he’d won and won beyond his wildest dreams!

Then, he suddenly stops. His smile fades and he turns to you. He asks a single question and you hear the name, “Chu Zihang.”

Then a sudden explosion! Your eyes rise as the flames have exploded on the rooftop! Where was Chu Zihang? Did he die? Why did this weirdo say his name? Were you too late?”

The man grabs you and presses the shotgun to your back. He’s screaming at Caesar now, fiercely gleeful, but not in a way that was from a pleasant heart, but from the heart of a predator who had his prey.

The headlamps on the black Viper flash in the dark and the engine roars to life.. A blast of suppressive gunfire streams out from where Lu Mingfei is hidden, just as the car is accelerating straight towards you.

The gangsters and their hostages scatter and fall to the ground, but they’re too stunned to react. They don’t know whether to find the unseen gunman or fire on the car that’s nearly on them!

The man in the suit sits still, holding you close, gun to your back. His eyes are now on Caesar.

Caesar is crouched on the hood of the car, his long blond hair bristling on his face, a cold determination in his eyes. But those eyes were no longer blue.

They were a blazing, solid gold!

The boys are out of time to pick their target. Now Caesar pulls his own gun and fires on them from the hood of the raging car. Now they have to flee both the gunfire and the charging vehicle!

Caesar’s voice rings out like a church bell. “Makoto! Jump! I’ll catch you!”

The sight of his heroic pose, roar of the flames, the gunfire, and the screams -- They should have been traumatic. But now, they’re beautiful to you. If only Caesar had been at Black Swan Bay. How many people could he have saved? If you had fallen from the cliff in that case, he would have caught you, right?

An unnatural burst of wind surrounds the car and launches Caesar from it. His eyes are clear, straight ahead as he straightens his body like a rocket, easily clearing four stories. His hand is reaching out to Ms. Makoto. She jumps to meet him, completely trusting.

Lu Mingfei is keeping the boys below pinned. Nothing can stop him. He was going to do it.

A cold laughter sounds in your ear.

Among the hundreds of shotgun blasts, a shotgun very close to you flashed. Dozens of lead pellets formed a sheet to catch Caesar in their deadly net. Caesar reacted instantly, arcing his body to avoid the shot. The pellets shredded his shirt, barely missing his neck.

But he had made a fatal mistake. He flailed desperately, brushing the fingers of Ms. Makoto as she fell past him.

Makoto Asou slapped the ground heavily. The flooding on the street lifted up in a splash that was stained with the red of her blood. In the next moment, the out of control Black Viper smashed into her body. Caesar landed on the car as it and drove her into the front of the building. Her blood spattered on the windshield as it crashed through wall after wall, disappearing inside.

“NO!” Caesar’s desperate cry, a wail of fear and despair, made you close your eyes.

You knew that feeling so intimately, as if you and Caesar now inhabited the same brain. You lost Vera just like this -- right in front of you. Only, you didn’t have the ideals like Caesar. The world wasn’t really supposed to be a certain way, it’s just the way it was. Still, you can’t help but feel sad for Makoto and for the shiny star of hope that Caesar had been and never would be again.

What would he do now, now that he had lost the fight like you did back then? Would his eyes harbor the darkness of Christmas over Northern Siberia, the Winter Solstice, where there was no sunlight to appear for another month and a half?

You lift your eyes to the overcast sky. You could no longer see the stars of Chizuru either.

#tw: death #tw: blood #tw: perverted #tw: Dragon Raja #Dragon Raja #Caesar Gattuso

21 notes · View notes

obscureoperations · 3 years ago

Text

This was just a prompt suggestion from @mynameisliterallycash

The one where Martin and Reader sneaks out to get hitched...I sorta rambled on this so it’s all over the place, but then again... what else is new😂

Your eyes remained fixated on your reflection, you really did look like your mother. Your eyes were almost identical, everything from the indiscernible color down to the forlorn gaze. It was a compliment really, your mother was practically your best friend. You used to think you could tell her everything. You used to follow her around relentlessly, even well into your teen years. You can still remember this beautiful, effervescent figure lifting you from your crib at two a.m. This warm vanilla sort of scent would surround you, in that moment you felt completely safe.

As time went on, you continued to follow her around like a lost puppy. She was so much nicer than your father. The smell of stale cigars and whiskey as he constantly reminded you of the “ rules”

“Some folks are not to be messed with”

Your family was distinctly Russian, and pretty well known around the town. Your father was the owner of one of the largest steel factories in the city, that job practically consumed him. It wasn’t rare that he wouldn’t return home till ten… eleven o'clock at night. Bur even then, he remained this overbearing and severe presence in your life.

He dictated nearly everything, from what you wore to who you could be friends with. Dating was pretty much out of the question. You became accustomed to sneaking out the window at night. Evenings spent in the grassy fields overlooking the city with two of your best friends. You wondered how he couldn’t smell the alcohol on your breath at the breakfast table.

You glance over to the clock, noting it was almost ten pm. You had to finish up, he would be here any minute. You weren’t prepared for him to see you yet, but in a way you never really were. The first time you laid eyes on Martin, you could have sworn your heartbeat stilled just for a moment. He sat behind the counter at Cuda’s shop, face buried in a magazine.He practically followed you through the entire store before some old man flagged him away. Even then he continued to glance at you as he swept.

As you stepped up to the check out he refused to look at you as he scanned your items.

“That’ll be thirty two forty”

As you reached into your pocket book, change began to spill onto the counter. You were already cursing yourself for being so clumsy. He helped you scoop it up with barely a second glance, fingertips brushing against yours occasionally.

“Here ya go…” You offer as you fish out two crisp twenty dollar bills. When he reaches for them, he absentmindedly glances up. You could still remember the expression on his face. Pins and needles, it looked almost as though he had been struck. He reaches for the money, eyes still transfixed on your face. The boy seemed to momentarily glitch. The tips of his fingers brushed against yours lightly, lingering before he hastily withdrew. He began to stammer as he bags up the rest of your things. He practically shoved the bags into your arms as he wished you a good day.

“Thanks..” You mumbled, barely able to contain your grin. You were back in the shop the very next day.

Everything became easier as soon as

Martin entered your life, and you really didn’t understand why. He had problems, most of them rooted deeper than your own, but you found yourself growing happier each day. You looked forward to hearing from him, seeing his face-- watching the way he would bound down the street to your front porch. You looked forward to making him smile,it always touched the corners of his eyes. He would blush when you stared into them for too long. There was not a second that you were around-- that there wasn’t a splash of color across his cheeks.

Even as he began to confide in you more,and divulge the depth of his sickness. Somehow you felt that you could make it all better, for one-- you had to get him away from that house.

You didn’t mean to propose, but in a way you kind of did. You jokingly mentioned it just to test the waters. You don’t even remember exactly what you said-- something along the lines of “ Yea, so like when we’re married, it’ll be easier. Couples go on trips all the time.”

The two of you were sitting on the couch watching shome mind numbing documentary. Something about travel laws in east Berlin.. He mentioned how beautiful Berlin was and how he really wanted to go. The two of you began to talk about passports, about when you and your family moved to America.

He grew extremely quiet for a moment, and you already began to mentally kick yourself. You knew Martin wasn’t like other guys, where if you showed too much interest, they were gone. But still, you felt as though you might have crossed a line, You’d come so far simply getting him to open up to you.

When he finally speaks up, his voice is extremely low, you had to struggle just to hear him. “ When do you think that would be?”

“I’m sorry?”

He clears his throat, you didn’t have to look to know he was beet red-- “ I mean… you would marry me.. If I asked?”

Your stomach did some weird sort of back flip, there was something so innocent in his tone. It was as if the idea was completely foreign. “ Yeah… of course I would.” You tried to remain as casual as possible, in your head you just dodged a major bullet. He doesn’t say anything else, instead inching close as his arm wraps across your shoulder.

The faint tapping on the glass alerts you of Martin’s presence. Your heartbeat begins to hammer against your ribs. You allow your eyes to move over your reflection once again, smoothing your hands over the silky material. The dress fit you almost perfectly, despite you being a few inches taller than your mother. The delicate embroidery along the waistline stood out all the more under the warm glow of the lamp light. The plunging neckline was almost modest, though it showed off slightly more than you would have liked. Where the two of you were heading, it didn’t really matter. Just you him and the ‘ordained priest’ This wasn’t exactly how you envisioned your wedding day.

You weren't established in your life, on a completely different continent with some local that managed to steal your heart. You were here in your childhood bedroom, wearing your mother’s wedding dress... waiting for Martin. Your eyes move over the various posters on the walls, you could distinctly remember buying each one. You glance over at the dull plaid comforter on your bed, the plain white sheets beneath. This would be the last time you’d be seeing this room for a while.

“Y/n?” He calls.

“It’s open…” you answer, brushing a few stray tendrils of hair away from your face. The window creaks open and Martin climbs in-- The first thing you notice are his shoes. The black and white sneakers are a stark contrast to his dress pants, instantly you didn’t feel quite so out of place. He lands almost awkwardly on his feet as he adjusts his collar, he was just about to apologize for being late. He wasn’t late. He was just used to being exceptionally early-- you glance at the clock, it was almost eleven.

“I accidentally ripped a hole in the jacket earlier so I had to--”

The moment his eyes land onto your face he seems to temporarily lose his train of thought. His hand immediately reaches for the dresser to steady himself. Images swirl through his mind in a grey and grainy blur. He could never quite figure out why your face alone seemed so familiar. You weren't like any of the ladies in his dreams.. This felt different. The sight of you alone caused this indescribable ache right in the center of his chest. He felt as though he had waited for you for centuries.

“Y/n…” He whispers, stepping in to close the gap. His hands immediately move to your wrists, holding them in place against your ribs. His face moves to the crook of your neck as he exhales slowly. You can practically feel the tension melt away from his body...as it always did when you stood near. “You’re so beautiful…” he whispers. His hands grasp at the hem of your dress, fingertips lightly brushing over your bare thighs.

You bite down on the insides of your cheeks to suppress a grin… he was so cute when he was flustered.

You tilt your head to look at him, adjusting one of the lapels on his jacket.

“Yeah… so are you.”

The streetlights were nothing more than an orange and hazy blur. The second the two of you landed safely on the lawn, Martin took off in full speed straight towards Main street. Autumn air bites into your cheeks the harder you fight to keep up with him, laughter brewing in your chest. The exhilaration threatening to tear you in half

“Come on!” He huffs as you struggle to keep up the pace. All heels against rain soaked pavement. You figured the two of you would stick to the gangways. But he seemed adamant on showing you off. All the neighborhoods that you stuck to religiously during your commute were finally dead. Not a light shining from any of the windows. Like a ghost town, you almost wanted to scream at the top of your lungs that Martin was finally yours.

Stuck at a stoplight, you begin to shiver as your heart rate finally begins to slow. There was a new found excitement in Martin that you’d never witnessed in the entire time that you had known him. He glances over to you briefly, draping his jacket across your arms. He kisses your temple briefly as his arm slips around your waist.

“We’re almost there.”

You could clearly see the top of the steeple as your heels dig into the mulch. Something about the small hill seemed far more daunting in the middle of the night. The forest was one of your favorite places to go, but there was a chilly sort of bite to the air. For some reason you expected your father to emerge from one of the bushes demanding that you come back home. The further you climbed your feet sank deeper into the ground. You felt as though you were drowning for a moment, threatening to be absorbed into the grass--as if on cue Martin reaches for your hand. He pulls you close as you find your footing, before you knew it you stood at the top of the slope. Wind continues to howl through the branches, twisting nearly nightmarish shapes. Lips press against your forehead, in a way reminding you of where you were. He wraps his jacket around you securely.

You allow yourself to melt into his embrace, the strong thrum of his heartbeat directly against your ear. He allows his hands to lovingly smooth over your back, cheek resting against the top of your head. He holds you like this for a bit longer, until he can practically feel you relax.

“Y/n…”

“Hmm?” you mumble lazily..It was almost like a drug when he held you for this long. Your heartbeats were practically in sync, you didn’t want to lift your head.

“You still want to marry me right?”

Those were the words that snapped you back to reality. When you glance up at him, he looks so worried it breaks your heart. His skin was nearly luminescent under the moonlight-- the chilly air tints his cheeks slightly pink.

You raise your hands to cup his face before pressing your lips to his own. You can feel him visibly relax, though his hands bunch at the fabric of your dress.

“Martin, I’ve never wanted anything more.”

A lone figure stands in front of the abandoned church, cat tails nipping at his feet. The singular white patch right at the center of his uniform catches the moonlight. He signals for the two of you to step inside.

#Martin 1977 #martin 1978 #martin/you #martin/reader #martin/fem reader #sfw

16 notes · View notes

johaerys-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Where Blood Roses Bloom

Fandom: Castlevania

Pairings: Alucard/Trevor Belmont/Sypha, Hector/Lenore

Summary:

After Trevor gets grievously injured by a night creature, he and Sypha return to Dracula's castle to seek Alucard's help. The man they find there, however, is but a shadow of the friend they left behind.

Meanwhile, in far Styria, Hector does his best to survive in the vampires' court, a lamb amidst wolves. Little do the wolves know, the lamb has fangs of its own.

Chapter 7: Dark Was The Night (Cold Was The Ground) is up! Where Hector tries to get used to his new life as the vampire sisters’ forgemaster, and Trevor and Sypha set out to find Alucard.

Read on Ao3! Or read from the beginning

Hector moves through the castle largely unseen.

He drifts along the torch-lit corridors during the day, when the vampires are asleep. After the sun sets, he stays in his quarters, hidden, out of the way. Biding his time.

It's not that he doesn’t enjoy his quarters. On the contrary. His new rooms are warm, spacious; Lenore has made sure he was given the part of the east wing that gets the most sunlight. The bedroom is large and tastefully decorated, the bed is wide with a crimson velvet canopy, there are priceless carpets covering the floor. The large windows of his forge overlook the snowy mountain range beyond the castle, past field upon fields of endless white. Hector has an office, too, with a mahogany desk and a small library, and there is even a small room for his personal servant to sleep in.

He has servants now. Hector, with servants. He never actually thought he would see the day.

It’s quite comfortable, really. Hector can’t complain. The vampire sisters don’t much care for him, and Hector has learnt to stay away. Striga and Morana are absorbed into their work. It’s all money and soldiers and plans of attack with them. He is sure Carmilla forgets he exists most of the time. He is someone else’s concern now.

He is Lenore’s concern now. Her pet.

Hector clenches his jaw as a rush of loathing and dull anger swells within him. The wind that blows through his half open window is suddenly not crisp and refreshing as it was a mere moment before, but frigid and merciless instead. The ring on his finger is cold now, but there are times when he can almost feel it thrumming with energy when Lenore is near. The thought that she might know where he is, what he’s doing, what he’s thinking at any given moment unnerves him.

Even a pet is more autonomous than this, he thinks, and the thought burns through his gut like pure acid.

That is his life now. Fear. Anger. Loathing, simmering under the surface. He is steeped in it, wallowing in it. He often tries to take his mind off it, and there are moments when he forgets all about it. And it works, for a while. Until it comes back with a vengeance. Until he remembers where he is, what he is, and the force of the realisation chokes him, and he’s not even sure whether he's ever known anything other than this, something other than the sharp sting of betrayal and the hollowness it leaves behind.

Part of him thinks he’s always been like this: angry, miserable, fearful, easily manipulated. Small. So small. A pet, and a bad one, at that.

“Forgemaster, sir.”

He starts at the servant’s voice. “What is it?” he snaps at the man, scowling at him. He is wearing the vampire sister’s livery: black, silver and red.

“Lady Lenore has asked for you, sir.”

Hector turns to glance at the sun beyond the window, that has just dipped below the horizon. His stomach twists in knots.

“Prepare my clothes,” he orders his servant before snapping the curtains closed.

Lenore is curled on her couch before the fire when Hector is led to her quarters, a book open in her lap. She sets it down as soon as she sees him, and a smile curls the corners of her lips. A faint blush, like an early spring rose, creeps up her smooth, porcelain cheeks.

“Hector. You’re here.”

She gracefully uncoils from the soft cushions and walks up to him to inspect the new clothes she ordered for him. With light and careful fingers, she traces the thread of silver embroidery on the sleeves of his dark blue velvet doublet, the colour and fabric of which matches her own dress almost exactly, then moves up to his shoulders. They linger for a breath on his lapel, fixing it in place.

“This colour looks wonderful on you. I’ll have more doublets made in this hue. It brings out your eyes.”

There’s a sort of familiarity to the way she touches him. It’s gentle, and just a little condescending, and it makes his skin crawl. Hector can still feel the ghost pain of the bonding spell she cast on him, the ring burning around his finger. He still hasn’t forgotten what her touch has led to. He doesn’t think he ever will.

Still, he doesn’t dare move away. He grits his teeth through it, and his hands curl into fists, but he stands his ground.

Finally, she lets her hands drop. She motions for him to walk with her, and he obeys.

“You’re up early,” he tells her cautiously.

The servants open the doors for them, and they step out of her quarters. Her arm threads through his as they walk, and once again a spike of something sharp and uneasy slithers up Hector’s spine at the contact.

“My sisters ordered a council meeting. You’re coming with me.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic about it,” she teases, glancing up. The trembling light of the torches along the walls casts shimmering reflections in her blood-red eyes.

“It’s just…” Hector swallows. “You’ve never taken me to one of your meetings before.”

She smiles softly. “There is a first time for everything, Hector.” Her fingers wrap around his wrist as she stops before the tall and doors to Carmilla’s study.

Hector has the strongest urge to bolt.

“We need more soldiers patrolling the borders,” he hears Striga saying as soon as he and Lenore cross the threshold. She has her head bent over one of the maps, brows gathered in a displeased frown. Carmilla is standing beside her, arms crossed before her chest, eyes rolling in exasperation. Her pale skin gleams like ice, even in the amber light of the fire in the hearth behind them. She is wearing a dark red gown cut low at the front, and on her fingers shine a multitude of golden rings.

“We have been over this,” she tells Striga, swirling the wine in her glass. Hector’s blood runs cold when he hears the sound of her voice. He still hears it, sometimes, in his nightmares. “Morana has been over this, too. It's a perfect plan, and it's bound to work. You really should find something else to be obsessed with, Striga, because this conversation is boring me to tears.”

“Carmilla is right,” Morana says. “I have it all figured out. We have hired as many of the mercenary groups as we could find. The nearby villages are left with virtually no protection.”

Striga’s frown does not relent as she replies, “It is not enough. The men we have hired are barely enough to patrol the western border. To hire enough men would mean emptying our treasury.”

“Let me worry about the finances, hm?” Morana smiles at her, placing her hand on her shoulder. “You worry about your battle plans, my love.”

Striga opens her mouth to say more, when Carmilla cuts her short. “What is it doing here?” Her icy blue gaze glides over Hector, and it is filled with disgust.

“Hector will be attending some of our council meetings from now on,” Lenore says smoothly. Her fingers are still wrapped around Hector’s wrist. “It was part of our agreement.”

“I don’t suppose you expect him to sit at the table with us?” Carmilla says, aghast. She pours more wine in her goblet, filling it almost to the brim. “Go to your corner now,” she tells Hector, waving him away with a careless hand, “and be quiet.”

Lenore’s expression is one of utter calmness. She takes a small step forward and straightens to her full height, however small her stature, and doesn’t even miss a beat before she says, “If he stands, then I will stand also.”

Carmilla freezes in the act of setting down the pitcher. She blinks, and a flicker of amusement dances in her eyes. “You cannot be serious.”

Lenore says nothing as she continues to stand calmly beside Hector, meeting her Carmilla's gaze levelly.

The disdain in the curl of Carmilla’s lip is unmistakable. She rolls her eyes and takes a large sip of wine. “Ugh, just take a seat, both of you. You’re late as it is. Oh, and keep your pet on a tight leash, please. I don’t want to hear a squeak out of it.”

“Come, Hector,” Lenore says softly with a small, encouraging smile as soon as Carmilla turns around, and tugs gently on his wrist.

The vampire sisters' plan is even worse than Hector thought. By the time he leaves the council room, he feels cold, numb. He barely even notices Lenore’s fingers that thread through his own as she takes him back to his room.

He sits on the chair next to the fireplace while Lenore walks to the liquor cabinet and pours them both a glass of wine.

“This is… this is madness,” he says. “When you first told me, I thought you were joking. An entire stretch of land, from here all the way to the sea? I can’t believe Carmilla is actually going through with it. I can’t believe you’re all helping her.”

“So dramatic, as always.” Lenore glides towards him and holds the wine out for him. “It will be difficult, yes. But not impossible. Striga and Morana will see to it. And you will be helping, too.” When Hector makes no move to take her offering, she sighs and reaches for his hand, guiding his fingers to curl around the stem of the glass. “It is a rather smart plan, actually. It ensures we have food for generations to come.”

“You’re talking about thousands of people, Lenore. Thousands, who will not submit to this willingly. Every square foot of land will need to be fought over, and holding it will not be easy.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Do you and your sisters really have need for all this blood?”

“It’s not just about the blood. More land means more control, and more control means more influence, more power. The vampires have been fighting amongst themselves for aeons, and we have found ourselves in the midst of their squabbles one too many times. After this, we will not be bothered ever again.”

“Perhaps,” Hector says grimly. “But at what cost?”

Lenore tips her glass over her lips, her eyes trained on him beneath her dark eyelashes. She stays silent for a moment before she says, “This is what you wanted, Hector. Is it not? When Dracula took you by his side, this is what he promised you. A cull. A... controlling of the population. Humane feeding, if you can excuse the term. What Carmilla has in mind is… precisely this.” She tilts her head to the side, “Minus a genocidal maniac.”

Hector’s jaw clenches. He wants to contradict her, but she’s right. This is exactly what Dracula had promised him, and why Hector pledged himself to his cause. Back then it had seemed like a good idea, the only viable solution to humanity’s problem. Part of him wonders whether all he had been looking for was just a cause to believe in, something to work for, to aspire to; a goal. A purpose. Something he could be proud of. Or perhaps he wanted someone to... to believe in him. To tell him what to do; to be proud of him.

Perhaps Lenore was right. Perhaps all he ever truly wanted was to be somebody’s pet.

His eyes fall to the ring on his finger, and his heart squeezes into something small and tight. Does it matter what he wants? Did it ever?

When Hector stays quiet for several moments, Lenore comes to sit by his side on the sofa.

“There is no need to overthink things, Hector,” she says softly. “Leave the administrative troubles to Morana. Your job is to make night-creatures. The sooner, the better, or I am positive that Carmilla will make good on her promise to throttle Striga. She is really starting to get on her nerves.”

Her fingertips are cool against his cheek when she turns his face towards her. Her scent reaches him; spring jasmine blossoms and sweet, cherry wine. “Can you do that for me, Hector?” she asks. “Can you start making night-creatures?”

Hector looks at her, really looks at her. It is strange, in a way, that she’s asking him this. She knows he cannot oppose her in anything, not now. She knows he is but a tool to be used, and Hector knows it, too.

But that’s who Lenore is.

Lenore is clever. Diplomacy is in her blood, even when there’s nothing left to bargain for. She is witty and calculating, and she always knows the right thing to say to disarm him. She is thoughtful and caring when she chooses, speaking to him softly, giving him what she knows he wants before taking it away. Lenore is beautiful and captivating, with her porcelain skin and her sanguine eyes, her crimson lips, like blood roses in the snow.

Lenore is poison.

She’s wormed her way into his confidence once. She’s won him over with honeyed words, and she’s cut him to pieces with sharp claws. Hector knows that she won’t stop, not until she has what she wants.

“I’ll do it,” he says quietly, and glances away. “I just… I need time. To make a new hammer.”

“How long?”

“I… I don’t know.” He swallows. “Forge-hammers take time. Days, maybe weeks.”

“Carmilla won’t be happy about that.” She sighs as she caresses his cheek with a light and slender finger. “I’ll stall them. Keep them off you for a while. You take your time. Yes?”

A shiver runs through him, makes his hair stand on end. He feels like a mouse, being toyed with by a cat. “Thank you,” he forces himself to say.

Lenore smiles. Hector watches as she sets her glass down and stands up. He expects her to say something more, to order him about, but she doesn’t. She rarely ever does, these days. She simply turns around and glides out of the room without another word.

As soon as she leaves, Hector lets out the breath he had been holding. He walks to the window and gazes at the endless fields of white beyond, and his features turn hard as stone. The ring on his finger thrums, an insistent reminder, and at that moment, Hector knows. He has to get away.

But he has to be smart about it. For once in his miserable life.

~~~

“We are leaving.”

Trevor doesn’t even turn to look as Sypha as he shoves his tunic in his leather travelling bag. The rest of his clothes are in a pile on the bed, and they are precious few; in less than a quarter of an hour, he will be ready to leave this place, and never return.

That is, if Sypha decides to stop bloody arguing with him.

“Trevor,” she says, “we can’t just—“

“Sypha. I said, we’re leaving.”

“But—“

“No but’s. No if’s. We are leaving and that’s that.”

A long, frustrated sigh from Sypha’s spot next to the window lets him know exactly what her thoughts are regarding that declaration of his. They have been at this for hours, but Trevor has made up his mind. And he is not backing down this time.

Sypha crosses her arms before her chest and pins him with a hard glare. “Since when are you the one to make decisions around here?”

“Since our host has —not so kindly —asked us to leave.”

“Yes, after you told him he is Dracula reincarnate.”

“And isn’t he? Didn’t you hear what he was saying? Weren’t you there?”

“I was there, and what I heard was you two being both quite rude to one another.”

Trevors narrows his eyes at her, but says nothing as he goes back to shoving their clothes in the bags. He huffs in frustration when Sypha marches towards him and sits flat on the bags he has been filling.

“I am not leaving,” she declares.

“Sypha,” he tells her slowly, trying hard to keep his tone calm, “I know you don’t like it when I tell you what to do. I know you think I’m rash and impatient, and perhaps I am, but we are not welcome here anymore. This has been made plain. We have done all we could for Alucard, but he doesn’t need our help. He told us so directly. Sometimes it is wise to simply admit defeat, rather than to keep on fighting a losing battle.”

“I will not admit defeat, and I am not leaving.” She frowns, her pretty brow wrinkling. “Alucard is our friend.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, woman,” Trevor rolls his eyes and huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, if you want to stay in this shithole, be my guest. I sure as hell am not staying here another bloody minute, because unlike you, I can tell when I am not wanted. And have we forgotten the people outside the door? I have no desire to join them, thank you very much.”

“No one’s joining them, you silly goose,” Sypha grumbles. They have gone over the same argument time and again since the day before, since Alucard stormed out of the kitchen. “If he wanted to kill us, why would he have helped us? Why would he have saved your life?”

“You saved my life just as much as he did.”

“Yes, but he didn’t have a reason to do it, nothing to gain.” She narrows her eyes. “ I am starting to reconsider my own reasons, now.”

Trevor groans in frustration. There is no talking with this woman. Why has she become so obsessed with staying behind and helping Alucard, anyway? Trevor was on board with her plan at first, but now he is starting to doubt whether there is a point. There really is no talking with Alucard either. Come to think of it, the two of them are very much alike.

He shakes his head in defeat and walks away from her, going to stand by the window. If Sypha is bent on staying behind, then he really doesn’t know what to do. Even if he wanted to stay, he can’t do that, not now. Not while things are like this. Not when he has seen the hatred in Alucard's eyes when he looked at him, at them both.

The bitterness that rises within him at the memory is now a familiar ache.

“I think,” Sypha says quietly, shifting on the bed to face him, “that you care about him just as much as I do.”

Trevor presses his lips together and turns to frown out the window. Snow has been falling steadily since the day before, and a thick white blanket is covering the ground now. It makes the world beyond the castle seem quiet and serene, but in Trevor’s heart there’s only turmoil.

Of course he cares about him. Of course he does. He cares about him as a friend, a… a brother. It must be because they’ve fought alongside each other, watched each other’s back; being by somebody’s side when they’re in danger does things to people, creates a bond between them even if they do not wish it. That must be it, he tells himself: it’s only natural, a gut reaction, an instinct, forged when the three of them faced Dracula and his armies side by side. And Trevor would do it, again and again; he would face Hell’s fires as many times as he had to, if it meant keeping those he cares about safe from harm. If it meant doing what he was meant to do.

That’s the thing, though. Trevor knows how to fight. He knows how to kill night-creatures, he knows how to squash monsters, how to beat their brains to a pulp. It’s like second nature to him, wielding his sword and throwing his chain about, dealing with trouble head on. What he doesn’t know is… this.

He hasn’t the first idea how to deal with all this. He doesn’t know what to do with Alucard’s fury, or his sadness, or the hurt that’s right there , just beneath the surface. Even Trevor can tell, even though he’s shite at all of it, he’s terrible at talking about feelings. So he gets mad and swears and fights, even when there’s nothing to fight for.

Because… that’s what he knows. That’s all he’s ever known, after all.

Sypha’s footsteps are barely audible, absorbed by the plush rug. She comes to stand beside him, her arm shy of touching his own. “He cares about you, too,” she whispers. “He cares about us. And he needs us now. I know it, even if he doesn’t say it.”

“But what are we supposed to do about it, Sypha?” Trevor asks, his arms still crossed petulantly before him. “You heard the man. He wants us out.”

She worries her lip, gazing out the window. She looks tired, worn out. Neither of them slept well the night before, too wired after the argument they had with Alucard. This day, too, hasn’t gone much better, with them waiting for him to return.

“I can’t leave, Trevor,” she says after a short while. “Not again. I can’t… I can’t leave things like this. If only to find out what happened here, I must stay.” She turns to look at him, searching his face. “You…”

Trevor sighs. “If you stay, you know I’ll stay with you.” He reaches out and wraps his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close. “But he’s already been out all night and day. God knows when he’ll be back. We could be here, waiting for him, for days still. ”

“Then we go out and look for him. What?” she says when he blinks at her. “He can’t have gone too far. We’ll find him.”

Trevor gazes at the snowfall beyond the window, the sky that’s steadily darkening. It won’t be easy finding him, Trevor can tell that already.

He lets out a sigh and drags his palm down his face. “This better be bloody worth it.”

Read the rest on AO3!

#castlevania #castlevania netflix #alucard #adrian tepes #trevor belmont #sypha belnades #trephacard #alucard/trevor belmont/sypha belnades #alucard/trevor/sypha #alucard x trevor x sypha #castlevania fanfiction #where blood roses bloom #johaerys writes #hector #lenore

16 notes · View notes

carewyncromwell · 4 years ago

Photo

*sings* Cinderella...you’re as lovely as your name, Cinderella~...

Okay, some quick notes before we start. Despite the beauty of their work, painters’ palettes were actually rather limited on pigments during the Renaissance, only having three pigments more than artists did during the Middle Ages. The Moly is a magical plant that appears in Homer’s The Odyssey. Hermes gives it to Odysseus as a charm to protect him from Circe’s spells. It’s been most commonly compared to the snowdrop flower by scholars. It also is referenced in the canon Potterverse as a powerful herb that can counter enchantments.

The Willow Song appears as a motif at the end of William Shakespeare’s Othello, though it was written at least thirty years earlier. In Othello, Desdemona sings a few stanzas of it in response to her husband’s growing distance and madness -- to the audience watching the play in Shakespeare’s day, which would already know the song, its inclusion foreshadows Othello and Desdemona’s tragic ending. “No One is Alone” is from Stephen Sondheim’s well-regarded musical Into the Woods, which features Cinderella as a semi-major character -- the song is actually even partially sung by Cinderella in the show!

I edited the art for this section, as you can tell. Badeea’s painting is a modified photograph of the Chateau de Chambord in France, overlaid on top of my own drawing. (Thanks, Lunapic!) This is also my very first time drawing Badeea!! GOD, is she pretty!! I think her eyes are my favorite of all the HPHM cast.

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy!

x~x~x~x

When Carewyn followed up with Andre the next morning, he was quite disappointed when he saw Carewyn wasn’t wearing the new shoes he’d made for her with her uniform. He honestly hadn’t even considered that they wouldn’t be comfortable for walking in -- and honestly, Carewyn could sort of understand why. Andre had never been able to leave the palace grounds, so there no doubt were a lot of practical things he’d just never considered...such as how very flashy royal fashion was, compared to that of the common man. He was pleased with the feedback Carewyn “passed along from her cousins” for him, though -- completely unaware of the fact that all three comments were really opinions that Carewyn herself had had about the dress.

“Hmm...that is a good point,” said Andre, his hand resting on his chin. “Red is a beautiful color...but a deep blue would not only bring out your eyes, but it would also perfectly contrast your ginger hair, since blue and orange are on opposite sides of the color wheel...”

His face burst into a bright white smile. “Your cousin Iris really has an eye for colors.”

Carewyn successfully fought back a groan, even as her eyes drifted up off toward the top corner of the room.

“...Well, she has taken up embroidery as a hobby. I suppose when one spends a lot of time doing samplers, one could develop an eye for colors.”

And also create a lot of initialed handkerchiefs to conveniently drop in front of noblemen so they pick it up and return it to you.

Andre, however, reacted with some interest. “Is that so? Hmm...well, maybe when I’m working on your new pair of shoes, I could invite her over for tea so she can give me her second opinion before I give them to you.”

Carewyn had never disliked a thought more in her life that Iris having a say in what she wore -- but knowing that she shouldn’t be the one to sabotage Iris, especially when her cousin would no doubt be able to do it well enough on her own, she put on her best smile.

“...I’m sure Iris would enjoy that very much.”

Sure enough, within a week, Iris had been invited to the palace for tea with the Prince. Carewyn could only imagine how thrilled Iris, her aunt Claire, and Charles were. As for Carewyn herself, she knew it was now time to do as Charles said and stay out of Iris’s way...and so when Iris arrived, she made sure to clean the rooms in her wing of the palace in a different order and not sing so that Andre wouldn’t be able to “check in” on her with Iris in tow. She didn’t think she could stand it if Iris got to look down at her polishing the palace floors.

Her lack of singing, however, did catch Badeea’s attention. When Carewyn collided with the court painter in the hallway, she expressed some concern.

“I missed your accompaniment, while I was painting,” she said. “Is everything all right?”

Carewyn felt guilty as she leaned her broom against the wall for a moment. “Oh...yes, Badeea, I’m fine. I merely...well, my cousin Iris is spending time with the Prince today, so I thought to...well, not draw focus.”

Badeea nodded in understanding. “Mm, yes...some things are meant to be background details, while others are meant to catch the eye straight away.”

Carewyn and Badeea caught the sound of Iris’s twittering, bird-like laughter echoing down the hall toward them. Not wanting to be seen when or if Iris and Andre came out into the hall themselves, Carewyn quickly picked up her broom and went around the corner -- Badeea adjusted her easel under her arm and followed.

“Say, Carewyn,” said the court painter thoughtfully, “why don’t you dress up in that nice yellow and green dress you have and come to the market with me?”

Carewyn blinked.

“I need to pick up some more carbon black and indigo for this painting I’m working on for Andre, but the man who sells those paints loves to price gauge. If you were dressed up all fancy and you slid in a reference to your family, though, he might be less likely to try to rip you off,” Badeea added with a tiny, coy smile.

Carewyn frowned, feeling a bit unsure. “I don’t know, Badeea -- I still have a lot of work to do...”

“You have the whole rest of the day to finish,” Badeea reminded her. “It would only take maybe an hour or two. And it would get you out of the palace while your cousin’s here.”

Carewyn considered the matter. Truthfully she’d been hoping to finish her work quickly so she could stow away back to the library and scan more troop deployment records...but she really did hate the thought of bumping into Andre and Iris, not just because of how much Iris would hate Carewyn getting any attention and therefore delight in tormenting her in front of the Prince in order to puff herself up, but because she didn’t want to provoke Charles’s ire unnecessarily.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll go change.”

Not long later, Carewyn had put on her mother’s old dress, pinned her hair up, and joined Badeea by the front gates, and the two headed into town on foot. The sky was still rather gray -- it had been raining and thundering for the last couple of days, and there was still a lot of mud in places. Carewyn was glad she was wearing her worn brown shoes under her gown rather than the pretty heels Andre had made for her -- particularly since nobody would likely be looking at her feet.

The shopkeeper in question was indeed a bit intimidated when Carewyn offhandedly referred to “her grandfather, Charles Cromwell” -- and soon enough, Badeea had been able to skip most of the haggling she would’ve normally had to make just to get her paints at a decent price. They left the shopkeeper’s stall, several jars of paint in hand.

As fate would have it, as they walked at the market, someone else was also shopping, and at the sight of the familiar dress and mane of ginger hair, he ran up to meet them.

“Carewyn!”

Carewyn and Badeea both looked up, to see Orion striding up to them. He once again wore his slightly-too-clean, but modest white shirt, olive breeches, and boots, and he was carried a basket full of henbane.

Carewyn’s red lips spread into a smile. “Orion...hello.”

Orion brought a hand up to his chest and offered her a short bow.

“It seems the stars favor us after all, my lady,” he said, the corners of his own lips kissed with traces of a wry smile.

Carewyn shot a quick glance at his basket and quirked an eyebrow.

“Purchasing some more incense?” she asked pointedly.

Orion’s black eyes sparkled. “I’m afraid we’ve already used up what I bought previously. Fortunately the gentleman from last time remembered my face and didn’t give me too much grief.”

“That’s fortunate.”

Carewyn glanced at Badeea to Orion and back.

“Orion, this is Badeea Ali -- she’s the Crown’s court painter. Badeea...this is Orion Freeman. He helped me retrieve my horse the other day.”

Badeea’s dark brown eyes were very bright. “Ah, yes -- KC had said that you were thrown off your horse. Thank you for helping Carewyn, sir,” she added to Orion.

“It was my pleasure,” said Orion. “What’s the subject of your next piece, if I may ask?”

“A foreboding sky and a distorted reflection,” Badeea replied.

Orion looked intrigued. “That would explain such dark shades. Who commissioned the piece?”

“The Prince,” said Badeea. “But his request was just of a view of the entire palace, from a distance -- I was simply inspired by the rainstorm that passed through a few days ago, and how the turrets of the palace looked reflected in the castle moat.”

“I wonder how the castle of Royaume would see itself, if it had eyes,” said Orion levelly. “Would it see its beauty, or would it be the type to be critical of its flaws?”

“Hm...or would it see the beauty of its flaws?” asked Badeea.

“True,” granted Orion. “Flaws make us more human -- would that make something more beautiful, by serving as contrast to our strengths?”

“Flaws aren’t something you should simply have to accept,” said Carewyn demurely, her arms crossed. “One should strive to be better than one already is. Even if one is only human, that doesn’t mean they can’t work to be something better.”

Orion turned to her, interested. “And what would be better than being oneself, my lady?”

“Being a better version of oneself, of course,” Carewyn said, sounding matter-of-fact. “One can always be kinder, braver, stronger...more cunning, more passionate. One can always learn more, and do more, and be more.”

“Yes...but it seems like those could be crippling expectations to hold over yourself, to never be enough,” said Orion, and although his expression was very inscrutable, his lips twitched with something of a frown.

“Perfectionism is a disease that affects every artist sooner or later,” said Badeea sympathetically.

Her dark eyes flitted from Orion to Carewyn thoughtfully.

“I must be getting back to work on my painting...would you like to join us at the opposite bank, Mr. Freeman? I would be happy for some feedback on my work, before I present it to his Highness.”

Orion glanced at Carewyn for her approval -- she offered a small smile, and his lips turned up in a full smile of his own.

“I would be honored.”

So the three set about finding a less muddy spot by the castle moat, across from the palace. They found one right by a beautiful willow tree, where Carewyn very carefully lowered herself onto the grass. Badeea fetched her easel and chair, setting it up so that she had a good view of the castle. Orion looked over her incomplete work appreciatively.

“It looks like it could breathe, were it a living thing.”

“Thank you,” said Badeea. “Now then, I’ll need to concentrate while mapping out the sky, so no initiating conversation, please. These paints stay on fabric just as well as my canvas, so they won’t easily wash out. I would appreciate some accompaniment, though, Carewyn.”

Orion glanced at Carewyn curiously. Carewyn avoided his eye.

“Badeea, I don’t think -- ”

“Ah, ah,” said Badeea, holding up a gloved finger quickly, “no conversation. Accompaniment or nothing, please.”

She then set about mixing certain shades and color spotting sections of canvas.

Carewyn frowned. It was one thing to be singing while she was working herself, to pass the time, but Orion’s focus was still largely on her, and it felt weird. Still, she thought to herself, it wasn’t like she was bashful about singing in front of others, exactly -- she knew her voice was more than serviceable. There was really no harm in it. So, glancing up at the willow tree above her head, Carewyn rested her hands in the grass, leaned back, and sang.

“The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree --

Sing willow, willow, willow...willow...

Her hand in her bosom, her head on her knee --

Oh willow, willow, willow...willow...

She sighed in her singing and made a great moan --

Sing willow, willow, willow...willow...

‘I’m dead to all pleasure -- my true love is gone --

Oh willow, willow, willow...shall be my garland...’”

Carewyn felt Orion’s dark eyes on her at the start. Before long, though, his eyes had fluttered closed, and he sat in perfect silence. As he listened, his shoulders loosened and his expression seemed to clear of all tension or pretense, like a child peacefully falling off to sleep. Badeea painted and shaded to the sound of Carewyn’s low, melancholy singing, adding white highlights to the dark gray and black shadows to create a cloudy sky with sunlight poking through.

When Carewyn was finished with the song, Orion slowly opened his eyes, meeting her gaze again at last. His eyes were oddly hesitant, almost shy.

“Y -- ”

He hesitated. Then, his black eyes softening handsomely, he closed his mouth, and it slowly spread into a smile gentler and warmer than Carewyn had ever seen before. He clearly approved.

Carewyn smiled in return and inclined her head in a silent “thank you.”

Carewyn sang some more songs until Badeea had finally finished and Orion and the two women had to part ways so that Badeea and Carewyn could pack up the easel and finished painting and bring them inside.

The following morning, Carewyn was surprised by KC pulling her aside to hand her a packet of what looked like handwritten sheet music.

“Your friend Orion stopped by a little while ago to give this to you,” she explained.

Carewyn was taken aback.

“I reckon he must’ve hopped over the wall,” said KC, unable to fight back a laugh. “I caught him strolling through the southwest gardens. I told him I’d bring it up to you, so that he wouldn’t get himself in trouble.”

Stunned, Carewyn looked down at the sheet music, shifting the pages so she could scan each line. Her blue eyes softened, growing deeper and darker with emotion, as she read the words and notes.

“...This...this is beautiful,” she whispered. She looked up at KC, unable to fully keep the awe from her face. “...You don’t think he wrote this?”

KC shook her head. “No, he said it was a song he learned when he was young, and that he tracked down the sheet music for you since he didn’t think he’d be able to properly sing it for you. I’ve never heard it either, though.”

Carewyn spent her meal times and about an hour before bed that night perusing the sheet music so she could learn the song. The following day, she felt confident enough to sing some of it while she started about cleaning the Queen’s Chambers.

“Mother isn’t here now...who knows what she’d say?

Nothing’s quite so clear now...feel you’ve lost your way?

You decide alone...but no one is alone.

You move just a finger, say the slightest word --

Something’s bound to linger...be heard...

No one acts alone...careful -- no one is alone...

People make mistakes -- fathers, mothers --

People make mistakes,

Holding to their own...thinking they’re alone...

Honor the mistakes everybody makes, one another’s terrible mistakes...

They could still be right -- they could still be good.

You decide what’s right -- you decide what’s good.

Just remember...”

“Carewyn!”

Carewyn stopped sweeping and looked up, to see Andre striding through the opened door of the Queen’s Chambers toward her.

“An -- your Highness,” Carewyn corrected herself very quickly, after noting who’d accompanied Andre.

Just behind him in the door frame was her dark-haired cousin Iris, dressed in her best rose velvet and her own almond-shaped blue eyes narrowed with loathing at Carewyn over Andre’s shoulder.

Andre, perfectly oblivious to the silent tension between the two cousins, gave a laugh.

“Oh, Carewyn, we’re not back to that again, are we? It’s ‘Andre,’ ” he said with an indulgent smile. “I haven’t heard that song before -- did you learn it recently?”

“Ah...yes,” said Carewyn. She could feel Iris’s fierce glare burning a hole in her face over Andre’s shoulder even without looking at either of them.

“It’s really quite lovely,” said Andre. “Please, do sing the rest of it when you’re able.”

“Of course, Prince Henri.”

Carewyn was absolutely not going to call Andre by his nickname in front of Iris -- she knew how Iris would shriek her head off about it to Charles.

Andre sighed and shook his head in something like tired amusement.

“I was hoping we’d catch you on your rounds,” he said conversationally. “I’m just about finished with your new shoes! Iris said your favorite color was ash gray -- I’ve never really worked with that color before, so it’ll be a bit of a challenge -- but I’m sure I’ll find a shade that might suit you...”

Ash gray? Running with the ‘Cinderwyn’ nickname, then, are we, Iris?

Carewyn forced a smile. “...Thank you. That’s...very kind.”

Feeling more uncomfortable by the minute, she quickly rushed over to pick up her full dust pan with her other hand.

“Forgive me, I really should go and empty this -- ”

At that exact moment, Iris had strode forward, bumping Carewyn’s shoulder in just such a way that the pan was knocked backward onto Carewyn, covering her, her orange and tan dress, and the floor with all of the dust, dirt, and grime she’d swept up over the last hour.

“Oh!” said Iris in feigned surprise. “I’m so sorry.”

Her gaze, however, was just as hard and unapologetic as it had been when she’d ripped the sleeve off Carewyn’s dress at home.

“Carewyn!” said Andre, concerned. “Are you all right?”

Carewyn coughed.

“...Yes, of course,” she said, her voice very hard and stoic in the back of her throat. “It was merely an accident.”

She shot Iris a cold look as she looked over her now thoroughly ruined uniform and the dust and dirt all around her feet.

“Please, go on ahead with Iris, your Highness. I’ll clean up this mess.”

Once Iris had successfully steered the reluctant-looking Andre out of the room, Carewyn closed the door, took off her dress, and finished cleaning the room in her undergarments, so as not to spread the dust and ash around any further. Then, very carefully, she darted across the hall from the Queen’s Chambers to Andre’s, so that she could fetch the high-necked, gold-embroidered dress made out of white linen and light blue velvet he’d recently finished for her from his walk-in closet. After all, she told herself, she needed something to wear while she was getting her uniform cleaned -- and well, at least Iris would be less likely to ruin this dress, since Andre had stitched it himself.

Holding her dusty, ashen dress in a folded pile against her chest, Carewyn headed downstairs toward the laundry. On her way through the entrance hall, though, KC -- who’d just come out of the library -- ran up to walk alongside her down the hall.

“Seems your friend is back.”

Carewyn’s messy ponytail flapped over her shoulder when she looked at her in surprise. “Orion?”

KC nodded, her lips curled up in a wry smile. “I thought I saw someone hopping over the wall through the library window, just now. Shall we go investigate?”

Carewyn bit her lip, looking down at the ruined uniform in her arms.

“Let me drop this off at the laundry first,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

Carewyn ran down the stairs and threw her uniform into one of the tubs to soak, before quickly doing her hair up in a simple, but slightly more presentable braided bun and hurrying back up to join KC. The two women then headed out to the gardens, only to hear something of a scuffle.

“A man with innocent intentions does not hop over castle walls,” said Bill’s voice, though it sounded much lower and harder than Carewyn was used to hearing.

“In this case, sir, I assure you, I do.”

“You will declare your true name and business at once, sir, or I shall see to it that you’re locked in irons and hauled before the King himself -- ”

“Bill!” cried Carewyn.

Bill looked up, startled. The ginger-haired castle guard had slammed Orion back-first against a tree, holding him up off the ground by his collar with one hand, but at the sight of Carewyn and KC running forward, the suspicion and righteous anger in his face dissipated instantly.

“It’s all right, Bill,” Carewyn reassured him. “He’s a friend.”

“Put him down,” said KC.

Bill looked from KC to Carewyn in confusion, before glancing at Orion warily, but he nonetheless did as they said. Once he’d lowered Orion to the ground and let go of his shirt, the dark-haired man calmly adjusted his collar and picked up a satchel that must’ve come off in the struggle off the ground.

“Thank you, Carewyn...Lady Katriona,” he said pleasantly, as if he had not just been in a loose choke hold.

KC grimaced. “Orion, I’ve saved your butt twice now -- we’ve more than gotten to the point of you calling me KC.”

Orion smiled wryly. “I’m glad of it.”

Carewyn, however, still looked a bit harried. “Orion, what were you thinking? Hopping the wall...it’s no wonder Bill thought you were up to no good!”

“Well, the gate was locked, and no one was there to greet me,” said Orion airily.

“Well, of course the palace of Royaume has very strong security,” Carewyn said exasperatedly, “the royal family lives here.”

“I must wonder how the royal family ever receives visitors, then.”

“They don’t,” said Bill rather coolly. “They invite them, and very rarely, at that. And they clearly didn’t invite you to trespass on the grounds.”

Orion was unfazed. “Well, fortunately, I wasn’t looking for such an invitation, to begin with. I merely wanted to give this to Carewyn, as a gift for Madam Ali.”

He reached into his satchel and pulled out a jar of unusually shiny silvery-white paint. Bill, KC and Carewyn’s eyes all were very wide as Orion handed the jar to Carewyn.

“I asked a few people where best to locate materials for paints,” he explained. “One man pointed me to a flower that grows at the border called the Moly. He made this paint himself. I don’t think any colors like this are made and sold at the market, so I thought I would bring along one of his jars for Madam Ali, so she might use it for her next project.”

Carewyn’s light blue eyes were very bright and touched as she looked up at Orion.

“Orion...it’s wonderful,” she said, her soft voice incredibly warm. “Badeea will love it.”

“You said he used the Moly?” asked KC, as she took the jar from Carewyn and looked at it. “Maybe Badeea could mix up some more paint of her own, then.”

Bill glanced at Orion with a raised eyebrow. “Or the Crown could simply buy it from the vendor who sold you that paint.”

Carewyn noticed a strange, almost skittish glint flicker through Orion’s eye.

“...I’m afraid that jar was a favor, not a purchase,” he said softly.

“I think Badeea would be fine with making her own, Bill,” Carewyn said firmly. “The Crown wouldn’t want to set aside extra money for materials anyway. It’d be a lot cheaper to make a paint like that in house than to buy it from someone else.”

Despite his frown, Bill nonetheless sighed and nodded. “...True. Charlie’s needed a new set of scratch awls for ages.”

Orion looked pleased. “I’m glad I could be of assistance.”

“Perhaps the next time you want to see Carewyn, you might figure out a way to do it that doesn’t require you scaling walls like a prowler,” said KC amusedly.

Carewyn shot KC a slightly reproachful look. Orion’s muted smile rather resembled that of a satisfied house cat.

“I’d be happy to arrange more regular meetings outside the palace, if Lady Cromwell would be open to it,” he said, his black eyes sparkling as he glanced at Carewyn.

Carewyn raised her eyebrows coolly at him. “Once again, Mr. Freeman, you seem to have an unusual amount of freedom, if you’re able to consider allocating time just to meet me.”

Her lips then spread in a wry smile.

“Still...I can hardly sit by and let you get arrested for trespassing on my account. I have some time available late tomorrow morning, before noon. I could meet you by the gate then.”

Orion grinned. “I’ll look forward to it, my lady.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #cinderella au #my art #my writing #carewyn cromwell #orion amari #katriona cassiopeia #andre egwu #bill weasley #badeea ali #orion you sneaksy bugger #definitely manipulating things to 'learn more about your enemy' and warm them up to you #so as to make connections you could use to do diplomacy later when the ruse is up #but at the same time...you sure are oddly comfortable with putting yourself in risky positions to interact with carey-bear ain't you >3 #iris's face claim is a brown-haired devore ledridge #I'll probably be drawing her at some point with andre -- GOD do I feel bad for this guy #as naive as he is about the cromwell family dynamic I think he already prefers carewyn's company to iris's #but honestly who wouldn't *snorts*

25 notes · View notes

suitofvibraniumarmor · 4 years ago

Text

If You Just Realize

Part Eight: Marry Me

Summary: Whether they’re ready for it or not, Sebastian and Y/N’s wedding day arrives. Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader Word Count: 2585 Series Warnings: Death, angst, sadness. Lots of creative licensing, I’m sure. Chapter Warnings: Drinking, confused feelings, fluff ... oh and that one scene at the end ... Square Filled: This entire series will fill my realized feelings square for @marvelfluffbingo. A/N: I’ve much enjoyed writing this series, and I hope all of you enjoy reading it! The tag list is open; requests to be added can be done so here. There are bits and pieces of Romanian throughout the series, mostly from Google Translate and the few things I’ve picked up as I learn the language.

Series Masterlist

The morning of the wedding, Y/N woke up in a room at the Waldorf with Kennedy. Everyone except for Kennedy was unaware of the truth in their arrangement and had insisted that the engaged couple not sleep even in the same apartment the night before. Y/N’s family was in a couple of other rooms in the same hotel but had given her space with her friend for the time being.

She started the coffee pot then went to the bathroom to do her business, wash her face, and take a good look in the mirror. These were the last few hours she’d ever be single; even after their marriage ended, she wouldn’t be ‘single’, she would be ‘divorced’.

“This is too weird,” she mumbled, moving away from the mirror and towards the coffee pot. She poured herself a cup and then one for Kennedy too when her friend began to stir. Y/N sat back on the bed, against the pillows, trying to focus on the positives of the day.

Kennedy sipped on the warm liquid and nodded. “Mmm, yes, that’s good. How are you feeling this morning?”

Y/N snorted. “Nervous as hell. I know I want to do this, I know I’m doing the right thing, but I don’t — I don’t know. It’s weird at the same time.”

“Do you love him?”

“Sebastian? Of course I love him. He’s one of my closest friends. I wouldn’t do this kind of thing for just anyone, you know.”

Kennedy took another drink of her coffee. “I know that. I know you love Seb, but what I’m asking is, are you in love with him?”

Y/N thought about that for a good minute. She wanted to answer honestly, but she simply didn’t know — and she told Kennedy as much.

“There was a moment the other night, when he came and proposed, just the way I had told his mother that he had done. He hugged me really tight and I sort of cuddled into him. I could just breathe in his smell … it was so strong and masculine and comforting … so Seb. And I thought, ‘Yeah. I could get used to this.’” She shook her head and set her coffee on the bedside table. Her stomach wasn’t up for consuming anything. “But that doesn’t mean I’m in love with him, and it certainly doesn’t mean I should get used to anything in this little arrangement.”

She slid off the bed and went to unzip the garment bag that protected her dress. Anytime now, Georgeta, Milena, Y/N’s sister-in-law, and her grandmother would be joining them in the room, anxious to get the bride-to-be wedding-ready. She ran her fingers softly over the pretty embroidery on the dress and shook her head.

“My feelings aren’t the most important thing at the moment. Getting through today, getting Sebastian custody of Milena — that’s what’s important. Finish that coffee, I’ll call down to room service to bring up a spread for the ladies coming to meet us soon.”

Y/N couldn’t meet Kennedy’s eyes. If she did, she knew that the confused feelings brewing within her would only bring her to tears, and she refused to cry anything but happy tears on her wedding day.

Sebastian couldn’t stop looking at the clock. Every minute that passed, he was one minute closer to marrying Y/N; one less minute she had to back out on him. Not that he expected that of her, but, well, he was nervous.

“I was nervous too, the day I married your mother,” Anthony commented, taking over the cufflink Sebastian had been working the last few minutes to secure. “Marrying someone with a child is a big commitment. You were older. We knew how custody was going to work with you. Marrying someone who hasn’t had that child very long, leaves a person with a lot of unknowns.”

The younger man frowned. “You think this is a bad idea?”

“Not at all,” Anthony assured with a kind smile. “What I’m trying to say — and I guess not doing a great job of saying — is that you’ve found someone really special, Sebastian. I’m very proud of you and I’m very happy for you.”

Sebastian’s shoulders released some tension. “Thanks. That means a lot, really. Mom and I both lucked out with you, I think.”

Anthony clapped him on the back before pulling him in for a hug. “Anything you and the girls need, come to us. We’ll help you. We’re here to help you.”

“Thanks.” He looked at the clock again. “An hour. How is there still an hour to go?”

With a roll of laughter that can only come from someone who has lived through the same experience before, Anthony clapped his stepson on the back.

“C’mon, let’s get you a beer to take the edge off. Shall we?”

“Yeah, a beer sounds good,” Sebastian sighed, heading down to the kitchen with Anthony.

Y/N’s grandmother zipped up the back of her dress, and her stepmother helped her balance while she pushed her feet into her shoes and fixed the buckle. She stood and smoothed out the dress, tucked her curled hair behind her ears, and took a shaky breath before going to the floor length mirror to get a good look at herself.

“So pretty,” Milena told her, smiling shyly as she leaned into her grandmother.

Y/N looked at the small girl, wearing her own pretty dress, and grinned. She remembered now why she was doing this; why her own feelings didn’t matter. She would have a good life with Sebastian and Milena, for as long as they would have her. Milena would have the support and the family she needed. Sebastian wouldn’t crash into parenthood alone.

Y/N crouched in front of Milena, careful not to crease her dress. She took Milena’s hands in her own. “Not as pretty as you. It’s just about time, princess — you ready for me to marry your uncle?”

Milena nodded emphatically. Y/N held out her hand and the two of them walked ahead of the other ladies, hand in hand all the way to the courthouse.

Despite the beer he’d had before coming to City Hall, Sebastian was well-aware of his nerves as he waited for their appointed ceremony time. Y/N was waiting behind with Milena and her father, wanting to wait until the last possible second before Sebastian saw her.

“Give me that much tradition, anyway,” she had smirked.

He could see that it was something important to her, and once she walked through the doors, her arm hooked through her father’s and her other hand holding tight to Milena’s, Sebastian decided the wait had been entirely worth every second of anticipation leading up to the moment her father placed Y/N’s hand in his. They both leaned down to kiss Milena on the cheek, then sent her to sit with Georgeta for the rest of the ceremony.

“You look so beautiful,” he whispered, taking her hands in his.

She smiled up at him and he knew his compliment had gone far. “Thank you. You’re quite handsome in that suit.”

He smiled, too. The justice was ready to start the ceremony then, but Sebastian couldn’t take his eyes off of Y/N; she was truly a vision in that embroidered dress. She was done up more than her everyday appearance, but she was still the woman he knew. He was proud to know that she was his, at least for a little while.

In fact, he had a difficult time keeping up with where they were at in the ceremony for all the staring at her he was doing. Y/N didn’t seem to notice, and thank goodness Sebastian was paying enough attention to know when it was his turn to speak.

Repeating after the justice, Sebastian said the vows they had chosen together. “I promise you, Y/N, that I will be your loving and loyal husband from now on. I will share with you all of life’s joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain, until death parts us.”

Carefully, he slid the band from her wedding set onto her finger. Her eyes were glazed with tears, and Sebastian hoped they were happy ones. Y/N slid a gold wedding band on the appropriate finger of his left hand and repeated the same vows. Her voice caught and a couple of tears fell before she go to the part about death parting them; perhaps knowing the vow was a lie already was difficult. He would have to remember to apologize to her later; he would never stop thanking her for doing all of this for him. When her vow was complete, she squeezed his hands and let out a deep breath.

“As a ceaseless reminder of this hour, and of the promise you have made to each other, these rings also speak of the oneness you now experience as husband and wife. By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I officially pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Y/N’s eyes went wide; Sebastian realized they had never discussed this part. Of all of the people watching, though, only Kennedy knew that this was not a marriage borne of love, but of necessity. Of one friend in need and the other friend coming to his aid. Quickly taking control of the moment, Sebastian dropped her hands to cradle her face.

“I love you,” he whispered before pressing his lips to hers.

Her response was soft and hesitant at first, but after that first initial meeting of their lips, she pressed into him, her arms going around his neck. Sebastian wrapped his arms around her middle to have her as close as possible. Were it not for the applause of their audience, he might have let the kiss go on until she pulled away.

The reception dinner was a small affair, only attended by the family members who had attended the ceremony, Kennedy, and a couple of other local, mutual friends. There was good conversation and lots of laughter. The newlywed couple felt so much love surrounding them.

At the end of the night, Milena went home with her grandparents. Y/N and Sebastian headed to a different room in the Waldorf — a gift from his parents — amidst a beautiful sparkler send off. Kennedy winked at Y/N when the girls hugged, letting her friend know the sparklers had been her idea. Even under the circumstances, she appreciated that Kennedy had remembered Y/N always liked the idea and made it happen for her.

The cab ride to the hotel was quiet. They were both tired, but also anxious. There were certain things expected on a wedding night … kissing to seal their vows in front of everyone was one thing. Sleeping together was an entirely different story.

Once in the room, where their overnight bags had already been dropped off, Y/N dropped down to the mattress and gave him a nervous smile as he locked the door behind them.

“Comfy,” she commented, though they both were already aware of the quality of beds in the hotel.

Sebastian nodded, nervously shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m pretty tired. You?”

She shrugged. “Tired, yeah. A little overwhelmed.”

Kicking off his shoes, Sebastian announced that he was going to shower; she should go ahead and comfortable, get to sleep, if she wanted to. Y/N nodded and waited for him to leave before moving from the mattress.

As it was, when he came out from the shower, shirtless in gym shorts, his hair still dripping a little, Y/N was still in her dress, leaning back against the headboard with her legs and bare feet stretched out in front of her. She was flipping channels on the television but smiled when she saw him.

“Can’t get the zipper,” she chuckled, “otherwise I’d be in pajamas by now. Do you mind?”

She came to stand in front of him, sweeping her hair out of the way. Sebastian licked his lips and, with shaky hands, slowly pulled down the zipper at the back of her dress. With the pull tab down as far as it would go, he could see black lace peeking out at him; it matched the bra straps coming over her shoulders and securing behind her back. He swallowed so hard, it had to be audible.

“Is that it?” Y/N asked.

Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut for a second and cleared his throat. “Yeah. Sorry.”

He hadn’t realized his hand was resting on her hip until she turned to thank him and they were suddenly centimeters apart from each other. Sebastian’s hand came up to caress her cheek. Y/N’s eyes were wide and searching his face for any type of explanation as to what he was thinking.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his head falling toward hers. “Thank you, Bright Eyes, for marrying me today.”

Barely able to breathe, let alone manage words, Y/N only nodded. Her hands came up to the backs of his arms and rested there. Seconds that felt like minutes passed in antagonizing suspense before Sebastian cupped her chin and pressed his lips softly to hers — the way he would have done if they had continued their kiss from earlier in the day.

Y/N didn’t hesitate this time to return his kiss; it was as though she had been waiting all day for him to do this. Her hands slid up his arms before clasping behind his neck, pulling him into her even more. She was the one who first ran her tongue lightly over his bottom lip, but Sebastian happily and willingly allowed her access.

It wasn’t until, from instinct, he gently pressed her back toward the bed that they parted. He kept his hands at her hips until she was steady, then took a full step back.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Y/N/N. This wasn’t part of the deal. I don’t expect — that’s not what you agreed to.”

“It was both of us,” she excused. “Not saying it’s not good that we stopped. That’s a big line to cross. The last few weeks have been a rollercoaster of emotions and we should be careful not to feed off of that.”

“You’re right. Anyway, I’m going to get some ice. I’ll let you do what you need to do.”

She didn’t say anything — hell, she wouldn’t even look at him. Sebastian cursed himself all the way down to the ice machine and back, wondering how many more times he was going to risk ruining his closest, most important friendship before this was all over.

Comfort came for him when they settled into bed, finally, and Y/N scooted right next to him and laid her head on his chest. She held her left hand up for both of them to see; the diamond sparkled from the light of the television in the otherwise dark room.

“Can’t believe we got married today,” she breathed.

Sebastian smirked and put an arm around her. “Me either. Regret it yet?”

She sat up only enough so she could turn and place a chaste kiss on his lips. “Not for a single second. Do you?”

Sebastian shook his head and kissed her again. She settled back against his chest, drawing in a deep breath before her eyes fluttered closed. He knew that he should sleep, too, but instead he lay awake for a couple of hours, working to process through the feelings that seemed to suddenly be too much for his mending heart to contain.

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @hurricanerin @horsesandbandsforlife @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @captain-rogers-beard @shynara51 @sea040561 @pinknerdpanda @xtina2191 @jackryanplz @beakami @heartsaved @fullprunerebelstatesman @blackwidowismyhomegirl @averyrogers83 @jennmurawski13 @connie326

IYJR: @elsatxx @tanelle83 @amanda-teaches @etherealwaifgoddess @kmuir1 @ntlmundy @jayankles @rebekahdawkins @denise1605 @rhadigen @peace-love-hobbitness @itsallyscorner @mizzzpink @auspiciousharriet @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @learisa @tellmewhatyouwill @katherinereid @lokilokilokilokilokiloki @thewolfsenate

#marvelfluffbingo2020 #sebastian stan #reader insert #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian x reader #fluff #sebastian fluff #sebastian stan fluff #queue and i remember budapest very differently

92 notes · View notes

frickfracksnatchisback · 4 years ago

Note

May I? Ask for some Snatcher and MJ hcs when they are already a while with their s/o in a relationship?

Of course! These two lads deserve some love and affection (and vise versa for all you ghost lovers out there!)

Starting with Moonjumper, he has a very cute habit of taking his S/O’s hands and placing kisses on top of them in a fancy gesture (because, y’know, he’s royalty, and that’s a thing princes do-). Sometimes it’s because he wants to act like a gentleman, other times he uses it as an excuse just to see his S/O blush! But, if S/O decides to turn the tables and kiss his hands instead? He is straight up swooning, with him shyly commenting on how they are ever the charmer~

With Snatcher, if S/O allows him, he likes brushing his claws through their hair softly. It happens rarely, but if it’s one of those quiet moments where S/O in sitting in Snatcher’s lap and they’re just chilling, Snatcher may or may not find himself combing through their hair or playing with a lock of it (and if they have shorter hair, Snatcher just kinda “pets” the top of their head absentmindedly). With S/O petting Snatcher’s hair, on the other hand? Yes please, he love, love, loves floof pets and stritches! (not that he’ll ever admit it, but he won’t ask for them to stop)

Moonjumper is very much a cuddle bug. The moment that S/O hugs him or asks him for cuddles, he’s immediately hugging, cuddling, and/or nuzzling at their side. The poor lad is very touch-starved after so many years, so he very much craves physical affection and plenty of attention from his partner! But don’t worry, for as much attention as S/O gives him, Moon makes sure to give back twice if not thrice as much back!

No matter S/O’s height, whether they be relatively tall or short, Snatcher will always playfully make a teasing comment on how small or little they are compared to him (Honestly, I HC that Snatcher’s full height is about 20 ft., maybe 10 ft. or less if he needs to be smaller in somewhere with less room). He always takes advantage of this fact, picking them up often, carrying them in his arms or on his shoulders, or lifting them up when they need help to reach something. Basically, for every tall joke they make of Snatcher, Snatcher will always return it with a short joke just to get a rise out of them (or to see them all flustered, which is pretty much the main reason why he does it).

Moonjumper’s very well-known for gifting things to his S/O! Sometimes with bouquets of flowers, but other times he’ll make his gifts by hand! He’ll dedicate his free time time to make all sorts of blankets, clothing items, plushies, and pillows for his beloved! And another cute detail, most of these gifts follow a heart or star motif and/or are in S/O’s favorite color(s). Sometimes he’ll even embroider sweet little messages into these hand-made gifts, phrases like “To my precious star, the forever light of my afterlife~” or “To my darling sweetheart, who is, without a doubt, the sweetest thing of all!~” in pretty cursive embroidery.

Snatcher also gets his S/O gifts! Though he usually doesn’t give them flowers often, and he’s not as good with actually making things like Moonjumper does, he still does give them gifts from time to time (at first, he says it’s only because they “Did so well on their contracts”, but he’ll eventually admit it and just give them gifts outright). Sometimes the gift will be a book; not about law, surprisingly, but whatever genre or hobby S/O is into. Other times, they’ll be articles of clothing that Snatcher thinks would look nice on them! Some just are regular pieces of clothing, other times they’re a combination of purple and yellow, with a certain someone’s signature grin printed on there somewhere (call him an egotist if you want, it’s not gonna stop him from grinning so smugly).

Moonjumper is an absolute sap with nicknames. He’ll be sure to call S/O all the sweetest, gushiest, fluffiest nicknames he can think of, switching them up every now and then to see which one they liked being call the most! (Honestly, he might have a whole list at this point) Of course, there’s his usual go-to: “my lady/lord”, “my darling”, “my love”, “sweetheart” and so on. But other times he might use rarer nicknames like “my precious/glittering star”, “angel”, “dear/dearest”, “my jewel/gem”, “my flower”, “mon amour”, etc. But the rarest nickname of all for him to use is calling them “my princess/prince” or “my queen/king”, as he only uses it during their more heartfelt moments together, showing just how much he trusts them.

Snatcher rarely uses nicknames, claiming that they’re “too sappy/affection for his tastes”, so he only uses the occasional “darling”, “sweetheart”, etc. But, once they get further into the relationship, and/or if they ask nicely, Snatcher will surprise his S/O with more embarrassing nicknames, like “buttercup” or “pumpkin”, just to see how much he can make them blush. Basically, Snatcher can go from being fancy and calling them “my darling” to doing a complete 180 and calling them “toots” while doing finger guns. Maybe he’s aware of how cheesy it is, but he thinks it’s well worth it to see his S/O blushing and hear their adorable giggles!

Moonjumper tries to pull out all the stops when he takes S/O out on a date, dressing fancily and trying his best to impress them, maybe even ask them for a dance. But if S/O prefers something more easy-going, he’s more than happy to set up a romantic picnic, just for the two of them! Now does this means he still doesn’t try to impress them? Absolutely not, as he rehearses in the mirror every time before they go out on a date, wanting to make sure he a true gentleman when said date arrives. If S/O comments on this, however, saying that he doesn’t need to impress them so much, as he’s already impressive, they’d better prepare for him to be an absolute lovestruck sap for the rest of the night.

Snatcher is, surprisingly, very nervous when it comes to asking his S/Os out on dates, even after the fact that they’re already a couple. He always grooms himself before going out, making sure he looks his best, wearing a fancy tux and maybe even a tie/bowtie and top hat to match! He tries boosting up his confidence beforehand (he’s the King of Subcon, after all!), but once he sees his S/O in their date outfit, whether it be overly fancy or not, all of that goes out the window and he’s a blushing and nervous wreck the whole time. He tries hiding this by doing fancy gestures for S/O, locking arms or holding hands with them, opening doors and pushing in chairs for them, but out of the corner of their eye they’ll catch him taking a nervous gulp he doesn’t need, fidgeting and adjusting his tie/bowtie or suit, tapping his claws, and tugging at his suit collar. He can’t help it, and he finds himself getting distracted by how beautiful they are.

Now, let’s say S/O finds themselves in a particularly gloomy or not-so-good mood? Believe me, Moonjumper will notice, and he will immediately ask them wants wrong. And before they can even blink, Moon makes them and pillow fort with all the fluffiest blankets he could grab, offering them a warm, cozy seat and some tea so they can de-stress and relax. He holds them close in his arms, listening to them intently if there’s something wrong, and comforts them all night long, reassuring them that he loves them and that he’s there for them. Whether it be anxiety, depression, or anything else, he’ll make sure to let them know that he’s here, he loves them, and he promises he’s not going anywhere.

When S/O is in a less than happy mood around Snatcher? Snatcher also notices, although it takes him awhile to bring it up, worried that they might not want to talk about it. Of course, at first he semi-jokes by saying “Alright. Who’s soul do I have to steal for you?” and things of a similar nature, but eventually he’ll turn serious and bring them up onto his lap, snapping his fingers to wrap them up in a cozy blanket with a nice, warm mug of hot cocoa/coffee/tea suddenly in their hands. He lets them use his floof like a pillow, being less tsundere and more cuddly than usual, letting them talk it out if they want to. Snatcher makes sure to let them know that he really, truly does love them (even if, and he’ll admit it for once, he acts like a giant “soon-deh-ray” most of the time) and cares about their happiness and well-being. And if comforting them means swallowing his pride, then he won’t have to think twice before making that decision, because they are his all, his everything, and he wouldn’t give them up for anyone else in the world.

204 notes · View notes

ivarthebadbitch · 4 years ago

Text

Strange things can happen

Chapter 6 summary: Ivar and Aldreda actually become better acquainted. Back in Kattegat, Aslaug receives some upsetting news.

Canon divergent, everybody lives, arranged marriage AU after 4x14. Read this chapter on Ao3.

Previous chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

On Ao3: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Pairings: Ivar x OC, Ivar vs. basically everyone

Warnings: None

Word count: 2108

Tagged: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @nukyster-blog @bae-roman @adhdnightmare (let me know if you’d like to be tagged)

Notes: We’re taking canon divergence a step further here, so Hvitserk is still in Kattegat and never went to the Mediterranean, and obviously there’s no invasion of Kattegat by Lagertha either (she’s in Hedeby and happily raising bunnies with Astrid, having correctly determined that ruling Kattegat was simply not worth it).

CHAPTER 6: Where is my son?

Aldreda had never been close to real combat before, and she was quickly arriving at the conclusion that she did not like it one bit. Even though she, Ivar, Aethelred, and Alfred were well protected and far behind the lines, they were still close enough to hear the clanging of metal and the shouts of dying men. She was the one who had insisted on joining her father on this trip with Ivar’s support, and now she was finally starting to see what a foolish idea that had been. If the Mercian rebels broke through the line, she was doubtful of their chances of survival. After all, Aethelred and Alfred were only boys. Ivar had more training, but it wasn’t like he’d ever been in an actual battle, and at any rate, he hardly looked like he could defend anybody while sitting on the ground.

As for herself, she had been raised to be a lady. She thought it unlikely that the rebels would be intimidated by her knowledge of Greek and skill with an embroidery needle.

Her hand kept moving unconsciously to the hilt of the dagger she kept tucked away under her furs. To her surprise, Alfred reached out and put his hand on top of hers and gave her a weak little smile. She forced herself to smile back. He also didn’t want to be anywhere near here, unlike Aethelred and Ivar. Aethelred was standing on his toes and straining to see the action, and relaying the information to Ivar on the ground.

“The Mercian left flank is falling back,” he called excitedly to Ivar. “Some of the men at the edges are running away—oh wait, I think they’re just regrouping. Never mind. Oh! That Mercian’s head just came all of the way off!”

“I want to see,” Ivar said. He gestured impatiently at Aldreda and the boys. “Help me up.”

Aldreda glanced at Aethelred and shrugged. Then she knelt down on Ivar’s right side and Aethelred on his left, and after a few false starts and some huffing and puffing—Ivar was taller and heavier than both of them—they managed to get him more or less on his feet.

His expression brightened once he was up, and somehow Aldreda felt slightly less irritated with him even as she staggered under his weight. “I want to be a warrior,” he said wistfully. “Just like my father. Greater than my father.”

Aldreda shuddered. “I think next time I’d rather stay home, myself,” she said. Ivar grinned at her.

The outcome of the battle had not been much in doubt from the beginning: the small band of Mercians were outnumbered and their weapons were poorer. It wasn’t long before they began to break for real and her father rode back in triumph, prisoners in tow and bodies left scattered on the field. When she saw him unharmed, she breathed a sigh of relief. If he hadn’t come back...she didn’t want to think about that.

There was some celebrating that evening, but it was soon cut short by the sudden thunderstorm that came rolling in and sent them all scurrying to their tents. In the tent she was sharing with Ivar, Aldreda hurriedly changed out of her wet clothes and slid under the blankets as Ivar did the same. She could feel him shivering next to her.

“What are you thinking about?” she whispered.

She hadn’t expected much of an answer, but he turned his head and looked at her. “I was thinking about your face when you saw your father return,” he said. “It made me think about my own father.”

“You miss him, don’t you?”

He swallowed and gave her a small nod. “I told you that he left when I was a boy and did not come home for a long time. Everyone thought he was dead, but I never believed it. I waited and waited for him. And then, after ten years, he finally came back, and I left behind everything so I could come to England with him, because my brothers would not do it, and I wanted to...I wanted to show him that I was a man too. Because he is a great man. The most famous of our people.”

He was quiet, but she sensed that there was more he wanted to say. He hesitated for a moment and took a deep breath. “But that wasn’t the first time he left me,” he said with difficulty. “He left me out to die when I was just a baby. He told me he did it because he believed I would die anyway. But I always thought he was just ashamed of me.”

“I am sorry,” Aldreda said, uncertain how to comfort him—or even if she should try to comfort him. Anything she could think to say sounded trite.

Ivar shook his head. “And now he has left me for the third time,” he said. “After all that, I miss him anyway. I wonder if I will ever see him again. Or my mother and my brothers. My mother must be worried sick over me. I hadn’t thought about that before I left.”

She rolled over on her side so she was facing him, knees almost touching. “Tell me about your mother.”

“My mother? She’s the most beautiful woman in the world,” he said with pride, and then scoffed when he saw her skeptical expression. “You don’t have to believe me, but it’s true. She is the daughter of the famous shieldmaiden Brynhildr and Sigurd the dragon-killer. But she is not just beautiful, she is also wise. And the gods favor her with visions that come true.”

“You’re lucky to know your mother,” she sighed. “Mine died when I was a baby and I have no memory of her. The only thing I have from her is this necklace my father gave me when we married.”

She held it out to show him, and he ran his fingers along the gold chain. “She was from Mercia,” she said. “That’s the reason why I wanted to come on this trip. So I could see her homeland.”

“Hmm.” He gave her a thoughtful look, as though he was actually interested in what she had to say. “What do you think, now that you’ve seen it?”

She shook her head and then stretched out on her back again, staring up at the ceiling of the tent. “It doesn’t look that different from Wessex,” she said. “Just forests and farmland. But I like to imagine her riding a horse along these same roads. I keep thinking that one of these mornings, we might pass her.”

It was more than she should have admitted to him—too personal, too intimate. But they were married now, weren’t they? So maybe it was all right to share these things. She heard Ivar shifting around in the darkness beside her to get comfortable. Then, to her surprise, she felt him reach out and take her hand. She soon fell asleep that way, her hand in his, warm under the blankets, listening to the rain coming down steadily outside.

***

Ubbe heard the horn sounding just after dawn. He rolled over on his side and closed his eyes, determined to ignore it and get a little more sleep, but Hvitserk was already loudly tramping into his room and shaking him awake.

“A ship is coming in,” Hvitserk told him. “It looks like one of Ecbert’s. Maybe Ragnar and Ivar have returned from England. Mother sent me to get you up.”

Ubbe groaned, but he threw on his clothes and followed Hvitserk to the great hall, where a small crowd was already gathering. He slipped in next to his mother, her face serene but hands folded in nervous anticipation on her lap. On his other side, Sigurd let out an audible sigh and crossed his arms as the doors opened.

It was just his father. Ubbe suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He should have gone to England with Ragnar instead of Ivar; it had been ridiculous for Ivar to go in the first place, no matter how badly he he had wanted it—

Ragnar waved his hand lazily as Aslaug sat forward, knuckles turning white as she gripped the arms of the throne. “Ivar’s not dead, don’t worry,” he announced. Ubbe let out the breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding.

A muscle jumped in Aslaug’s jaw. “Where. Is. My. Son?”

His father gave a little half-shrug, and Ubbe groaned inwardly. Beside him, Sigurd was shaking with silent laughter and Hvitserk had covered his mouth with his hand. “He’s fine,” Ragnar said. “He’s just in England, that’s all.”

“In England,” Aslaug repeated slowly.

“Yes, that’s where we went.”

“She’s going to kill him,” Sigurd whispered gleefully, and Ubbe had to admit that this seemed likely. He had seen his mother angry before, but never quite like this. Her face was deep red and she looked like she was on the brink of exploding.

There was a lengthy pause during which Ragnar shuffled his feet and Hvitserk let out a faint “ahem” that mostly went ignored. When their mother finally spoke, her voice was ominously quiet. “And why is he still in England, if you are here?”

“Oh, well.” Ragnar rubbed his head almost sheepishly. “I met with King Ecbert and we made an arrangement. A very good trade deal for Kattegat, some extremely favorable terms, I think you’ll agree—”

“My son. What did you do with my son?”

“Married to Ecbert’s granddaughter. That was part of the deal, you see.”

Sigurd really did start laughing then, practically gasping for air as his sides shook. Aslaug whipped her head around in fury. “You. Out,” she snapped at them. “Everyone out. Now!”

Ubbe practically had to shove Sigurd to get him moving. Once they were outside, Sigurd fell to his knees and howled with laughter, pounding his fist against the ground. “Ivar—he—Ecbert’s granddaughter—”

Hvitserk was laughing too, though not quite loud enough to cover up the sound of shouting coming from inside the great hall. “Come on, it isn’t that funny,” Ubbe told his brothers, albeit a little half-heartedly.

“Do you think Ragnar knew?” Hvitserk asked once he had managed to stop giggling. “About…you know.”

“Impossible.” Ubbe shook his head. “There is no way he would have arranged the marriage if he had known, and of course Ivar wouldn’t have wanted to say anything, so…”

“Well, the bride at least must know by now.” Sigurd wiped away a tear. “Who could have imagined? Ivar getting married before the rest of us, and to a Christian, and to Ecbert’s granddaughter…”

“This is not good, Sigurd,” Ubbe scolded. “We have to tell Ragnar.”

Hvitserk frowned. “Tell Ragnar? But Ivar’s already married.”

“Yes, but when Ecbert discovers the truth, it will go badly for Ivar and for all of us. They’ll believe Ragnar made a fool out of them. We must put a stop to this before things go too far.”

Sigurd gave him a skeptical look. “So then what do we do?”

“We have to...offer an alternative.” Ubbe winced at the sound of something being thrown inside the hall and landing with a loud thud. “It has to be me.”

Hvitserk raised his eyebrows. “You’ll go marry this girl in Ivar’s place?”

“Well, why not? I’m the oldest after Bjorn, and it will make mother happy to have Ivar back.”

“And you’ve got everything in working order,” Sigurd added with a malicious grin. He clapped Ubbe on the back. “Good luck, then. I can’t wait to hear all about this from Ivar.”

Ragnar stumbled out of the hall moments later and practically tripped in front of them. He straightened up and groaned. “Never marry a woman with a temper,” he confided. “Learn from me. I did it twice.”

“What did she say?” Ubbe asked.

Their father shook his head blearily. “She told me never to show my face in Kattegat again until I bring back her son. She was less interested in the details of the trade agreement than I expected, but after she calms down, I think she will come around. And she’s a woman, after all; once Ivar and his bride give her a grandchild, she will forget she was ever upset in the first place.”

Hvitserk shifted awkwardly from one foot to another and Sigurd looked like he was about to start laughing again. Ubbe cleared his throat. “Yes, well...about that last point…”

Ragnar raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”

Ubbe looked at his brothers and sighed. “There is something you should know. You may want to be sitting down for this.”

#vikings #ivar the boneless #fanfiction #fic: strange things can happen

18 notes · View notes

herenortherenearnorfar · 4 years ago

Text

Final graduation ficlet (which got quite long). A-Qing lives (sort of) and channels ghosts while living out her fashionista dreams. Jiang Cheng is identifiable due to his clothing choices. Light violence and zombies.

The best thing about living in Koi Tower is the clothing. Silk that runs like water between her hands, brocade heavy with embroidery, jewelry that chimes and sings as she moves. She doesn’t feel heat or cold, can’t sense gentle changes in pressure or even most pain. There’s still enough perception in her fingers to map out the bamboo grove and song birds stitched on her favorite dress and feel the whorls of gold and inset jade on her new bracelet.

After the first impolite insinuation about their friendship Jin Ling stopped buying her gifts more excessive than those he gave to the rest of his friends. Ouyang Zizhen, who can describe the grandeur of Lanling’s markets so clearly she can see the hawkers and jewel-bright fancies in her mind’s eye, has been thoroughly scolded by his father on her behalf so many times that they’ve regretfully halted their shopping trips.

Wei Wuxian makes up for it. He doesn’t have money of his own, but his husband is rich and lets him do whatever he wants, and what he wants is to spoil A-Qing whenever he’s in town.

He calls her cousin (biao zhi mei, an affection which makes several martial relationships familial and she thinks retroactively enforces at least two adoptions) and takes her places the boys are too scared to go. Good company though they usually are, they’re rich kids to the core. The streets A-Qing grew up on, back alleys and muddy side streets, are too lowly for little princes. They aren’t like Wei-qianbei, who can banter with street walkers and haggle with counterfeiters. His company is a welcome escape from the pompous brats in Koi Tower. Together with Wen Ning they walk the streets, wearing high collars and low hats for disguise. They sniff about the food vendors until oil and salt fill A-Qing’s throat and coat the remnants of her tongue. Wei Wuxian buys her trinkets, little squares of silk and jangling bracelets of gilt and enamel, louder and more delightful than the demure ostentation of the Jin. When she was young and dreamed of being rich she wanted bracelets up to her elbows, not “restraint” or “taste”.

At the end of every outing Wei Wuxian hands her a little parcel. “From your shushu by the water” he says, as if she has any idea who that is. They’re nice gifts through. Scarves and robes in fine cotton and brocade. There’s stitched florals and ribbons. She makes Jin Ling describe them to her and he reluctantly tells her about violet and turquoise geometric patterns, waxed pale into fabric. There’s one overrobe she especially likes— dark blue, Jin Ling says, with a cracking pattern like mud under the sun, like lightning, like the death lines on her own skin. She can feel the stares on her when she wears it.

The old men certainly stare when she slams open the door and begins tapping her way into the conference room, though she can’t tell whether it’s the crackling midnight robe, the green jade pins in her hair, or the fact that she’s here at all that has them so startled. That’ll teach them to try to distract her with poetry and fancies. As soon as the fine cultivator ladies, who normally scorn Koi Tower’s corpse, swept her away, she knew something was wrong.

It’s bold of them to try to ambush Jin Ling in his own home. They’re going to regret it.

“Xiao-guniang,” Jin Ling says, sounding relieved. A servant takes her arm and guides her over to the table, and A-Qing doesn’t snap at them. She’s learned to pick her battles. “I was just about to send for you. These kind elders have quite the suggestion for me and I wanted your input on it.”

“Is this really the place for a young... lady?” come the protestation.

“My shibo thinks highly of her judgement.” Jin Ling says, leaving everyone to put together in their own heads who his shibo is.

That stirs up whispers. It always does. A Sect Leader, almost grown, consulting her? A corpse under the Yiling Patriarch’s protection, a barely civilized street rat. They might have given her Xiao Xingchen’s name (it still hurts to hear it spoken, still scrapes every time someone calls her Xiao Qing, though even Song-daozhang insists he would have wanted her to have it) and a backstory worthy of tears (’she survived Xue Yang!’ Ouyang Zizhen would cry, passionate and sweet, and Jingyi would add a story of her bravery so embroidered it was unrecognizable) but she’s still a parentless urchin. A girl. A dead thing. There are a dozen reasons she shouldn’t be here.

Jin Ling has the full support of the Jiang and the Lan behind him though, and Nie-zongzhu always compliments her accessories. None of the other, weaker sects can do a thing about it. Politics is a lot like living on the street; the big people make the rules and everyone else puts up with it. The old coots make some noises about propriety, forcing chaperones and moderating the affection A-Qing and her friends can show each other in public, but they can’t get rid of her or mitigate her influence on their young ruler.

At best they can insinuate, and since Jin Ling started making eyes at the visiting cultivator from Dali those insinuations have had increasingly little weight.

What are their words? A-Qing signs, even though she knows perfectly well why they’re ganging up on Jin Ling in a side room. She won it out of Duanmu-zongzhu’s wife, who was sent to distract her. It’s amazing what people will say in the presence of a mute girl-- they think she’s deaf too and talk quite freely. You would think they’d be more careful, since she is, by their own accusation, a conniving abomination, but for all their fear they never quite take her seriously.

“They had some suggestions about the salt trade.” Jin Ling is doing an admirable job of playing the mature diplomat. “Surely they can explain it better themselves.”

“We merely wished--” one of them starts stammering, and another one takes over. “We thought to inform Jin-zongzhu of the opportunity to centralize control of the salt market. The Jin, Qin, and Lan together hold most of the salt marshes, and Jin-zongzhu’s great-aunt ruling in Meishan mean he would be able to get the western brine wells to cooperate with a taxation pact. It would be very beneficial to both the sects and the merchants!”

“They want to put limits on who can buy and sell salt, and they’re willing to levy a tax to make it worth our while.” She can practically hear Jin Ling’s posture, arms crossed, defensive. “Xiao-guniang, I don’t suppose you have any thoughts on that?”

I’ve walked in salt villages, A-Qing replied, leaning her cane against the table so her hands can move furiously fast. It’s not a good life. Brine and heat. If they could only sell to a few merchants they would be underpaid. No choices.

(A maid helpfully murmurs a translation of her words to the rest of the room. Few people have bothered to learn the language she now uses, the one she pieced together with the help of her friends.)

Jin Ling hums. “That makes sense.”

“There’s no reason to hesitate on the behalf of some peasants,” a very bold voice complains. “Their state won’t be improved by empty sympathy.”

“They’re just boilers, of no concern to you Jin-zongzhu. We treat them well.”

Oh. Oh.

She was going to hold back, for Jin Ling’s sake, but now she’s angry. Who of you is Hu Anshi? she demands, mouthing out the sounds of the name and punctuating it with the bracketed meaning (beard, safe, stone) over and over until it’s duly translated.

Reluctantly, one of the many voices in front of her says, “I am, xiaojie.”

Even with her ever sharpening sense (honed by cultivation that she came into late and kicking) it’s hard to differentiate him from the rest of the horde of weakly pulsing qi before her. They all have ghosts attached to them, hovering resentment like a cloud about their heads. Rich men attract desperate hatred better than anyone else. But she thinks she can single out one fuzzy figure with a particularly heavy load of sins and a familiar tinged energy over his shoulder,

A-Qing takes up her bamboo cane and strikes it once on the ground. I talked to your ghosts, she signs with her free hand. They had a lot to say.

That silences them.

Jin Ling inhales sharply and moves closer to her side, hand grazing her sleeve in support. When she shakes her head he withdraws, leaving her alone on in the cool air of the Koi Tower, shivering in her fine cotton and silk. Shivering because she’s letting the change come over her, letting the whispering, angry ghosts attached to Hu Anshi’s back have their say.

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when she took up this route of cultivation. Mediumship is... frowned upon by the sort of people who bear swords and seek immortality. The common people like it though and before she knew Xiao Xingchen, A-Qing made the acquaintance of a number of temple diviners and spirit writers. Some of them even offered her apprenticeships-- blind girls made for good optics. Spirit specialists willing to take on a pickpocket without the slightest inclination towards ghosts were unfortunately untrustworthy by definition. She never took them up on the offers.

Then she died and, like many of the restless dead, needed a way to communicate. Lan Sizhui played her Inquiry a thousand times in those first weeks, to ask her if she was comfortable, to field questions from the other giggling Lans. Eventually A-Qing memorized the song and began to play it on her own, tapping it out with bamboo against earth and fingers against wood. The spirit language, limited in form and structure, was easy to pick up and didn’t need a tongue or eyes.

When you played Inquiry, ghosts answered. A-Qing didn’t mention the questions at first, just did her clumsy best to give offerings to those whose names she learned, to give justice to those small inequalities her late night listening uncovered.

Wei-qianbei, who had what he called a “vested interest” in her wellbeing, learned about it eventually. He was the one who found her in Caiyi town (hidden from Lan and Jin elders alike while some ridiculous politics happened) fighting off possession by the little girl who’d been murdered two doors down a year ago. He was the one who helped her curse the wrongdoer, soothe the restless soul, and settle back into her own cold skin. After that he taught her Inquiry, and how to use the meditations Xiao Xingchen had happily guided her through to solidify her presence and strengthen her energy output. If she was going to get possessed, he suggested, she should be purposeful about it.

He didn’t teach her how to use her corpse strength to drag evildoers into the light. It came naturally enough and only needed a few suggestions from Wen-qianbei and Song-daozhang.

After that things had sort of... spiralled. By the time she went to join Jin Ling, then Jin-zongzhu, in Lanling a few months later, A-Qing had found herself an avatar of vengeance for any number of unquiet spirits. The living consulted her too, when there was bad luck or poltergeists, hauntings or incomplete burials.

As it happened, the highest halls of cultivation have hungry ghosts in need of justice too.

She lived in the north, in a village with no name. A-Qing says as icy incorporeal fingers close around her neck. They were poor and made money by selling salt, because one woman could bring up enough brine in a day to provide a whole family with salt for a year. And it paid. Until one day the merchants came to town with you at their head.

You have to give Zu’er, the maid who’s translating, credit. Even though the hand language drops lots of in-between words by necessity and requires creative substitutions-- earth for salt, sky for day-- she always picks up on A-Qing’s meaning. And she doesn’t flinch as smoke, hot and roiling, begins to peel off A-Qing, which speaks to her nerve if nothing else.

A-Qing taps her staff again and begins drumming out the song of opening, of offering.

Under your guidance they wouldn’t pay them enough to buy firewood from the inland where trees grew, or rice from the flood plains that weren’t salted beyond survival. Salt worth a fortune sold for scraps.

So they starved. Working, salt crusted, they hungered and hated you.

Footsteps echo on the cold marble floor.

“Bar the door,” Jin Ling says next to her, mild and spiteful. Whatever spirit he channels in clan politics, it’s a vicious one. “I think everyone should hear this.”

So a woman took salt on her back and went to sell it someplace else. And who did she meet on the road but the merchants? Do you remember what you did?

“She’s a witch and a liar,” someone, maybe even Hu Anshi claims. A-Qing is too deep in to care. The ghost, who came to her instantly when she played Inquiry this afternoon, looking for answers about this purported plot to head a monopoly, is particularly insistent and clever. She’s been following Hu Anshi for a long time, too weak to strike, too smart to get caught by protective charms and spirit dispelling talismans.

Now she finally has a chance to speak, in a sense of the word.

There is a complication to channeling without a tongue or eyes. She can get around just fine in this body of hers but spirits are rather less experienced. Without Sizhui or another Lan expert most can’t make their wishes known. So A-Qing has to get creative.

As much as she hates to admit it, she knows who she learned this mean showsmanship from. Three years with Xue Yang teaches you a lot about drama.

Cane held out like a divining sword, she advances, letting the spirit half sunk in her flesh and a faint memory of the room’s layout guide her around the table towards the bundle of quaking men. Like cowards, they scatter before her, not even trying to fight back (just as well; she can’t be killed but a sword in the stomach doesn’t make anyone happy). The ghost over her shoulder knows which target she wants to pick and swings about as frightened bodies swirl around her. Hu Anshi might be able to dodge but he can’t hide, soon she has him cornered.

His friends abandon him quickly, fleeing to the edges of the room as she advances. When her bamboo strikes his shaking legs, she gives in and lets the ghost have its way.

The problem with possession is that you have very little control. Locked away in the cool dark of her own flesh, A-Qing can’t even see what’s happening. Jin Ling is there, though, with his Clarity Bell, so she’s comfortable sitting back.

She gave the ghost pretty clear directions; no permanent damage, show how you died. At worst she’ll choke him for a bit before Jin Ling snaps her out of it.

For the sake of her friend, A-Qing tries to be subtle about her skills. Jin Ling helped her form her sign language, stuck with her even in the earliest days when the other frightened juniors were suggesting they report her to the Chief Cultivator, sent her long letters that Lan Jingyi would sprint down from Gusu to read out loud to her. He brought her here, gave her pretty dresses, listened when she talked about hungry children and towns that cultivators never visit. Listened when she talked about frightened female ghosts, begging for their lives, and murdered servants who have never gotten justice. Even his dog has been kind to her, has guided her through gardens and chased away bullies while Jin Ling sat in stuffy rooms doing grownup work. In deference to his family and responsibilities she doesn’t swear even when people act like bastards, she doesn’t run, she doesn’t summon evil spirits indoors without cause.

Sometimes she wonders how long their friendship (bound by oaths though it is) will last. In the three years they’ve known each other he’s gotten tall and deep-voiced, while she’s stayed the same. By the calendar she’s a decade older than him but she’ll never be fully grown. A-Qing is a creature of boundaries, not a girl and not a woman, not living and not dead. Not a destitute orphan anymore but not made for places like this.

More accurately, places like this aren’t made for her. It’s a shame because they clearly need her badly. Who else will give the ghosts and forgotten people a voice?

When the Clarity Bell finally shakes the ghost out of her body, she’s throttling a man with exquisite delicacy, holding his warm and moving throat like it’s the finest china ware. This is how she died, A-Qing thinks. You strangled her and left her body by the roadside. You took her salt and sold it and her family starved.

There’s a heavy hand on her shoulder. “That’s quite enough, I think.” says Jiang-zongzhu, whose voice she bothers to remember.

A-Qing lets the man fall to the floor, gasping even though she barely choked him.

“I told you all to stop talking about your salt plot,” Jiang-zongzhu is shouting above her. “Now you’ve tried to convince Jin-zongzhu alone to go along with your little price fixing scheme? Pathetic. I’ve heard enough of it. Get out. Don’t ever bring it up again.”

There’s a desperate skittering that A-Qing barely notices in the post-possession fog. She assumes the room clears.

“We’ll send the accusations of foul play to the local authorities?” When faced with his uncle Jin Ling always phrases orders as questions.

“A good idea,” Jiang-zongzhu agrees. “Send some cultivators too-- it’s outside of our wheelhouse but there’s bound to be some resentment built up if a merchant syndicate has been running wild through the marshes. Where did you say they were active, Xiao-guniang?”

He’s always polite to her. At first it was a disgusted sort of politeness, a politeness that suggested that she didn’t belong anywhere near his precious nephew. Over time it’s mellowed into frosty gentility and the occasional hand on her arm when she’s lost.

Qing province? she shrugs. South Bo Sea coast.

Signing proper nouns is like playing charades. For qing she points to herself (the words are close enough in pronounciation) for bo she taps her staff. It must make sense though because Jiang-zongzhu doesn’t even wait for Jin Ling’s swift interpretation. “That’s closest to Laoling. Qin Cangye has had a lot on his plate lately. Best to send a letter and some of your men.”

“I guess I should go do that. And I have to reassure the sect leaders I’m not doing demonic cultivation again.” A-Qing frowns and Jin Ling hastily amends, “You did great though.”

“Great is pushing it,” Jiang-zongzhu snaps. “You’re getting a reputation.”

Jin Ling, whose voice is already by the door, isn’t impressed. “They can get over themselves.”

Then it’s just her and Jiang-zongzhu in the room. One heartbeat, one steady warm core. A-Qing turns to go, only to be caught by the arm.

“Thank you.” Jiang-zongzhu says slowly. “You’ve been a good friend to him.”

A-Qing remembers the courtyard with the lotus pond, where she and Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi swore to be siblings in the eyes of the gods. (Though they love their other friends, they were excluded for practical reasons. Sizhui is already related to all of them and needed no further binding. Zizhen is a little in love with everyone and Jin Ling claims it’s bad form to sleep with sworn siblings, so for them to keep their options open he had to be excepted.) It’s a secret oath; Jin Ling doesn’t need the political complication of open sworn brotherhood. It’s still binding.

I try.

Jiang-zongzhu always smells like thunderstorms when he’s stressed. Right now all she can smell is the cloying Jin incense and a sweetness of lotuses. “Keep trying. And don’t be afraid to send for me again if you hear they’re ganging up on him.”

As he lets go of her her hand brushes his trailing sleeve. In an instant her fingers graze over silk brocade and fine patterned cotton. The texture is familiar and she instinctively grabs the fabric to feel the delicate embroidery and the stiff, thick woven cotton that still smells ever so slightly of wax. She can imagine the patterns inked on, maybe lotuses? Greenery? The colors are definitely shades of purple, blue and green.

A-Qing smiles as Jiang-zongzhu pulls away and stalks out.

The best thing about Koi Tower is the clothing, which sits against her skin and reminds her of the people who have taken her in.

The second best thing is getting to terrorize entitled rich people.

#the untamed #fanfic #graduation ficlets #a-qing #jin ling #jiang cheng

114 notes · View notes

sage-thrasher · 5 years ago

Text

Extra: “Sanitize” and a Scandalized Outsider (Impropriety)

Almost 2k words this time! This was the extra that won the Discord vote: “An outside POV of Yui's clinic, from the perspective of a merchant who is constantly scandalized by all the impropriety going on in Chiyuku and surprised at what the village considers normal.” It’s aptly titled Impropriety, and it’s a little after the events of Chapter Twelve. Enjoy!

---

Usaku Kobayashi heaved a sigh of relief when he saw the town of Chiyuku in the distance. Despite his travels, Usaku had never been to this side of Fire Country, and it seemed shockingly undeveloped compared to the northeastern provinces.

“Finally,” he groused.

The ninja walking alongside their caravan tilted his head in agreement--though Usaku was beginning to suspect that it was amusement. They’d hired an escort from the Hyuuga clan, one of the few clans of ninja that actually had things like manners, but the downside was their eerie eyes and habits. The Hyuuga never even turned to look at them, but he seemed to know everything that went on around them--and had a need to comment on it. (That was exactly what they needed, a defective chatty Hyuuga.)

“Brother, aren’t you excited, though? This is all so novel!” Natsuki tried to lean out to see, but Usaku instinctively shielded her from prying eyes. His sister’s enthusiasm, unlike his, hadn’t flagged at all. Perhaps that was to be expected. This was her first time out of their estate.

Well. ‘Estate.’ They barely had more than a title to their name, thanks to their father and grandfather. It was only Usaku’s dirty merchant dealings that gave them enough wealth to hire more than three servants--and arrange Natsuki’s match.

That was the whole reason they were traveling. Lord Hirohota, his sister’s fiance, had requested to meet Natsuki ahead of the wedding party. Which was… odd, perhaps concerningly progressive, but he was, frankly, a much better match than Usaku had expected. It wasn’t like they could say no.

“We should rest at Chiyuku for a night,” said Hyuuga in his disconcertingly soft voice.

“Yes, we all need a rest!” Natsuki agreed. “Oh, it would be so nice to sleep in a bed again, though it was just as interesting to sleep in the caravan!”

Usaku scowled, and Natsuki drew back, abashed. It was a little uncouth for a woman to speak about her sleeping habits, and she knew he didn’t like her talking to the ninja. Their kind might be a necessity, especially in these uncivilized parts, but a well-bred lady didn’t need to associate with them.

Still, he had a point. “We will rest.” Not that Hyuuga looked like he needed it.

“We can procure some medicine for your knee, also,” Hyuuga continued. “I recall you also mentioning some interest in the medicine trade of these parts. Lord Hirohota has some stake in it, I believe.”

Usaku didn’t scowl again, but he did press his lips together. He didn’t appreciate the reminder of his rather embarrassing injury--he’d tripped when stepping off the caravan and landed badly.

The best ninja, his father had said, on the rare occasion he wasn’t drunk, are like furniture. You forget they’re there until you need them. This Hyuuga was the bad kind of furniture. Forgettable, until you tripped right over him when he opened his mouth and reminded you. Frequently.

… perhaps that hadn’t been the best analogy.

Regardless, the ninja volunteered his opinion far more than he should. Which was at all. As Usaku mused over whether he could bargain for a refund, or at least a discount, his party quickly got situated at one of their inns. It was acceptable, though barely so. Everything was… quaint, and rural.

Somewhere along the line, Natsuki wheedled her way into accompanying Usaku to the healer. He would much prefer her staying in the room with her maid, but he supposed he could allow her this. (He would miss her. His sweet sister was being married off to a lord four weeks away, and soon letters would be their only mode of contact.)

“This is the healer’s place?” Usaku raised his eyebrows.

“Indeed,” the ninja confirmed.

As they waited to be allowed entry, Usaku realized there was something different about the clinic’s construction, something about the wood… it looked almost seamless. Usaku didn’t know much about this healer (other than him being shockingly effective), but he must have been better than expected to afford something like this.

Usaku noted signs of more construction around them; foundations of new buildings were scattered like weeds. This town was growing, then. Perhaps it would be a wise investment.

The door opened. A tanned peasant woman smiled at them, dressed in rather nice kosode. It was solid color, but the material was quality cotton, and her obi had delicate embroidery around the borders. The healer’s wife, perhaps?

“Hello,” she said, inclining her head. “Do come in.”

The woman bustled around, serving them tea and doing all the other expected domestic niceties. In the corner was a young man stitching up a deep gash on a sniffling child. Usaku obliquely stepped to the left, hiding them from Natsuki’s view. Was that the healer? He seemed rather young, barely out of an apprenticeship, especially to have a wife a half-dozen years older. Perhaps he was the apprentice, and the master healer was out and about.

Usaku took the tea, and he sipped, resigned to have the dredges of soggy leaves that these places considered quality. He stopped at the first mouthful.

“This is good!” he said out loud, immediately embarrassed at his lack of decorum. But it was. The tea was a sweet oolong, with a delicate green edge. It was at least on par with the tea he normally drank.

“I’m glad,” said the woman, still smiling. “It’s Hyuuga-san’s favorite, if I recall correctly.”

The ninja nodded. “I am honored that you remember.”

Usaku was shocked to hear the deference in the killer’s voice, and he tried to cover it up with another sip. Natsuki tilted her head, hands delicately clasped around the cup. Honestly, the quality of the tea set was at least as good as the one they used at home. Was the woman trying to impress them with the finest they had? His sister had also noticed the ninja’s reaction, but she was also too curious for her own good.

“You know Hyuuga-san?” she asked slyly.

The ninja answered for her. “I have had the pleasure of meeting Yui-san.”

Only one name, then? That wasn’t unusual for peasants, and Usaku doubted that Hyuuga would be improper enough to be familiar with another man’s wife. Before she could reply, the healer apprentice finished his task, and the kid ran forward, shyly hugged Yui’s leg, and scampered away.

Yui smiled and shook her head.

She truly must be a cornerstone for her husband, Usaku thought. Though nothing beautiful--especially with that sun-darkened skin--Yui seemed like a competent manager of the household, enough to command affection from children and respect from ninja. Of course, the latter was likely more out of respect for her husband… Usaku really wanted to meet that man. Yui was asking after an old injury of the Hyuuga’s, so he turned to the apprentice rather than interrupt them.

“When will your master return, boy?”

The young man paused in washing his hands. (Usaku had been introduced to him, but the name had slipped from his memory.) “My… master?” he said, confused, looking to Yui.

“Yes,” he said, impatient. The boy continued to blink. Thankfully, there was a lull in the conversation, so Usaku returned his attention to Yui rather than waste anymore time. “Madam, when will your husband return? I wanted to ask him about a salve for sprains, and perhaps discuss business.”

Yui looked just as surprised, and he revised his estimate of her utility. “I’m not married,” she said dumbly.

Heavens. She wasn’t a kept woman, was she? No, her clothing didn’t suggest that, and he felt a little guilty for entertaining the thought. Yui was an unmarried relation, then, perhaps a sister, niece, or cousin to help manage the bachelor’s affairs--and procure a match with his contacts.

“The master healer,” he said more gently. Yui wasn’t that old. She still had a chance, though the match wouldn’t be so strong. “When will he return?”

Yui raised a hand to cover her mouth, and Usaku worried at first that some tragedy had happened--had he passed away?--but he realized that she was actually hiding a smile. The apprentice openly laughed, and the Hyuuga was glaring at him, mortified. (It was frankly terrifying, seeing such a display of emotion from him, especially with those eerie blank eyes.)

Usaku looked at his sister, bewildered, and was glad to see she looked as confused as him.

After a moment, Yui lowered her hand. “I’m the healer,” she said, voice steady.

“You’re what!?” He barely avoided dribbling his tea.

“Oh!” said Natsuki, setting her tea down, eyes gleaming in a way that made Usaku nervous. “You’re the healer? You’re not an assistant?”

“This is my clinic,” she confirmed. “Eiji’s my apprentice.”

“I--But--” Usaku blinked at her. He’d been caught off guard; the place seemed so civilized, but it held tighter to rural sensibilities than expected. “Why? Are you not wealthy enough to be married?”

She certainly seemed so; Usaku noted silk hangings that could only come from Lightning country. That should fetch a decent price for a peasant’s wedding.

“I enjoy my work,” Yui said firmly. “I work not because I have to, but because I want to.”

“I apologize for my client,” the Hyuuga said suddenly, stiffly. “I did not realize he had made such an assumption. He is from the northeastern part of Fire Country, and they are rather isolated.”

Was… was the ninja making excuses for him? Was he apologizing like Usaku was some rural country bumpkin!? The nerve of him!

Her apprentice snorted. “Sensei, perhaps I should serve the tea next time. Maybe these out-of-towners would stop assuming then.” Eiji gave him a derisive look, and Usaku puffed up further. “At least he wasn’t as bad as the man who thought you were my servant.”

Usaku wanted to give them both a piece of his mind, but Natsuki kept him from doing even that.

“It must be quite interesting to work,” she said, beaming. It was an admirable attempt to smooth over his impropriety, but he didn’t quite like that she had more than polite curiosity in the way she phrased it. “How were you educated as a healer?”

Usaku fumed, keeping his mouth shut, as Yui shared fanciful ideas with his sister. She consorted with ninja, alone! And healed strange men with no thought to privacy! Uncouth, truly uncouth. No wonder she wasn’t married. Usaku would have stormed out, but the Hyuuga kept glancing at him, and he thought better of it. He didn’t bother to ask for salves or open talks for business, not with that woman, not after how he’d been treated. He kept to icy formality and took the soonest opportunity to leave.

After as short of a stay they could manage, Usaku and the caravan set off again.

“Heavens, I am glad to be out of that provincial town!” he announced.

Natsuki didn’t respond. Instead, she looked back to the Chiyuku, an odd look in her eye.

“Hyuuga-san, how far is Chiyuku from Lord Hirohota’s estate?” she asked.

The ninja smiled. “Two week’s trip by caravan, my lady. Lord Hirohota’s liege, Lord Fukuyama, strongly favors Chiyuku and Healer Yui. She saved the young heir’s life.”

Usaku’s stomach dropped.

“Did she?” said Natsuki, sounding delighted.

“Indeed. Lord Hirohota’s estate has begun to invest in Chiyuku’s construction; the lord sent his architect on Lord Fukuyama’s request. I think you may meet Healer Yui again.”

“Hyuuga,” said Usaku sharply. “We did not ask for your input.”

The ninja tilted his head and fell silent. But when Natsuki looked out the window again, she was smiling.

#extra #sanitize fanfic #naruto fanfic #naruto #oc-insert

339 notes · View notes

haughtbreaker · 4 years ago

Link

Waverly and Nicole spend a few moments together as Nicole heals from the wounds of their kidnapping.

“What in the holy shit...”

Nicole stopped halfway to standing up, her face twisted in discomfort. Before her stood Wynonna, long brunette waves framing disbelieving eyes that suddenly narrowed towards her. “Heeeey Wynn…”

“Did you get knocked in the head hard enough to scramble away any common sense?”

Nicole smiled, as much as she could as pain shot through her arm. “I just… I need to stretch.”

“Then stretch the fuck out on the the bed.” Wynonna shooed the guards out the door, grabbing the tray and bottle that one held before shutting the door. “What does it take for you to just relax?”

“Sorry, Your Majesty,” Nicole grunted as she took a seat on the edge of the bed again, wincing in pain. “What brings you down here?”

“I’ll your majesty your ass if you don’t take it easy.” Wynonna set the tray and bottle on the bedside table before she took a seat in the nearby chair. “I was told you were finally awake so I figured you’d be hungry or something.”

“And to yell at me?” Nicole looked over the tray, not feeling anything even remotely close to hunger. If anything, she felt an unavoidable nausea in the pit of her stomach. She’d betrayed the queen, her friend. She’d allowed Waverly to leave the castle and they’d gotten captured.

“I should.” Wynonna rested her elbows on the arms of the chair, her hands steepled together. “I assigned you to watch her because I thought you’d have a better chance of persuading her to at least take this seriously.”

Nicole nodded. “I know. I’m sorry I failed you.”

Wynonna rolled her eyes. “You didn’t fail me, you idiot.” She grabbed the bottle before she leaned back, getting a little more comfortable as she propped one foot on the edge of the bed and pulled the stopper out of the bottle. Always under scrutiny, she never really had a chance to completely relax. “I have not been able to control her for years now. She used to sneak out daily but since you’ve started, she’s at least kept her chaos within the castle walls.”

“What?”

Wynonna took a long sip from the bottle before snorting, wiping her lips with the back of her hand like she’d never be allowed to in court. “Look. My sister is brilliant, beautiful and persistent. She can also be an asshole and I know that more than anyone.” She set the bottle on the table before snagging a slice of peach. “And for some reason, you annoy the shit out of her.”

“You are absolutely the worst.” Nicole took a staggering breath.

“I’m fucking queen,” Wynonna responded. “It is my duty to use all resources to my maximum benefit.” She nudged Nicole’s thigh with the foot she had propped on the edge of the bed. “Besides, it’s better than grunt work. You could be in the pits building barracks.”

“It would be an honor to assist in constructing housing for the army.” The words came instantly from Nicole, but in truth, the thought of leaving Waverly’s side put anxiety in her belly.

“Anyway, it won’t last forever. Soon Waverly will be off with Prince James.”

Nicole felt a pain in her chest at the very thought of Waverly’s wedding, a pain that hit deeper than any wound she was recovering from. What did that mean for her? She was a knight of this kingdom, not James’s. She pledged fealty to this throne, to Wynonna, but the very idea of Waverly leaving without her protection boosted the anxiety she already felt.

Shit.

It took a few days for the pain to settle, and in some places fade completely. Waverly made sure to stop by at least twice a day to torment Nicole whenever she found her in any position except flat on her back in bed.

“You should be sleeping.”

Nicole looked up from the book she’d been writing in, setting the quill down. “If I spend any more time on my back, my mind will start to leak from my ears.”

“Well,” the corner of Waverly’s mouth tipped up in a smirk, “there is quite a lot one can say to that, but instead, I come bearing gifts.” She presented a wrapped bundle.

Nicole pushed herself to her feet. The pain was still there, but it didn’t steal her breath like it once did. Her head no longer felt like it was going to explode and thanks to the wrappings around her abdomen, she could walk without much issue.

“You don’t have to get up,” Waverly protested, stepping forward.

“I do,” Nicole retorted, slowly stretching her back until the pain grew. “Healer’s orders. Best to keep the blood flowing and what not.” She was glad she’d chosen to dress slightly normal when she’d awoken that morning. At least to have the dignity of not being in a nightgown in the presence of the princess. “A gift from the princess herself, huh?”

Waverly’s confidence seemed to lessen just a bit, her smile turning more shy than anything. “It’s nothing fancy, just…”

“Waverly,” Nicole paused mentally, as if to savor the taste of the name on her tongue instead of the usual formal title. “You didn’t have to bring me anything at all.”

“And come to my savior empty handed?”

“I’m pretty sure the prince is your savior, not me.”

“I’m pretty sure I can make up my own mind on who my savior is.”

Nicole was not going to argue, and instead accepted the bundle. It was soft but weighty and she set the package down on the foot of the bed. There was a silk ribbon holding it closed and she easily untied it, setting it aside. As she unwrapped the bundle, her fingers found soft velvet and delicate embroidery. “Waverly,” she whispered, shaking out the cloak. It was similar to the one the royal guard wore, but there were small embellishments, embroidery far more delicately than was standard.

“I know your last was ruined in the capture. They were to replace it with the standard, but you are anything but standard.”

Nicole felt the fire in her own cheeks, a tremble building in her fingertips that she tried to disguise by folding the cloak. “Thank you. It is incredible.”

“Well, there’s one more thing.” Waverly rocked on her heels. “Outside of the room.”

Nicole looked up, her eyebrow raised in question. “I believe the queen ordered me to stay here.”

Waverly snorted. “Must we go over this again?”

“No.” Nicole grinned. “But perhaps you might tell me where we are going? Will I need my sword?”

Waverly smiled now. “It’s a surprise, but I need you to put your boots on. You can leave your sword here.”

Nicole felt a bit of worry but something about the princess’s smile was comforting and she reached for her boots with a sigh.

By the time she was dressed to leave the room and they were traveling through the castle, Nicole’s anxiety was rising. She wasn’t used to being followed by the two guards that lingered behind them or the two that entered every room before them. She noticed one of each set was familiar, while the other of each set was dressed in the colors of the visiting prince.

His own precautions for his future bride, she guessed.

Overall, there was more security as guests began to arrive for the coronation and wedding. Nicole felt her mood beginning to sour at the thought, her mind beginning to preoccupy itself with visions of the princess getting married to Prince James. Kissing Prince James. Being led away from the reception by Prince James...

“Is the pain too much?”

Nicole flinched slightly, turning to see Waverly watching her with a worried expression.

“Just a little uncomfortable. I’m happy for the exercise,” Nicole responded. Internally, she cursed her own weakness. She couldn’t believe she’d let her emotions show to the extent that Waverly would notice. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice where they were until they stepped onto the dirt ground. She blinked in surprise. “The stables?”

“Indeed.” Waverly chuckled as she wrapped an arm around Nicole’s elbow, waving off the guards. “As I said, I wanted to thank you, so I remembered the last time we were here and, well…” She gestured to a nearby stall.

A familiar dapple gray destrier neighed in surprise, hooves stomping at the ground. “Sir Victor,” Nicole smiled as she stepped forward and was headbutted in the chest. “Hey, careful.” She ran her fingertips over the short grey hair. “Look at you, all pampered and spoiled.”

“Apparently, when they attempted to give him a new rider, he refused,” Waverly leaned against the boards of the stall, a small smile on her face. “They decided, instead, to retire him and hopefully breed him.”

Nicole rose an eyebrow, running her hand along the muscles of his neck, her short nails scratching him gently. “Well now, look who’s living the dream. All the food and ladies you could ever want.”

Sir Victor had the audacity to neigh, nodding his head and headbutting her again.

Nicole looked over at Waverly suspiciously. “This is not where the breeding horses are normally kept.”

“No, it’s not.” Waverly reached over to a communal bucket, retrieving a suitable carrot before offering it to Nicole. “From the last time we talked, I knew you were worried about him. I thought about what I’d feel like if I couldn’t see Evelyne again.” She shrugged, looking down at the fresh hay that had been changed not that long ago. “I don’t have a lot of power around here, but I could do this. This way, I figured, it’s closer to the castle and you won’t have to go too far to take care of him if you want to.”

Nicole raised an eyebrow at the slight blush on Waverly’s cheeks as she accepted the carrot. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Waverly looked anywhere but at Nicole, her hand coming up to pick at the wood. “I know.” Finally, her eyes peeked up through long lashes. “I wanted to, as a thank you.”

“How many times are you going to say thank you?”

“I do not think I can say it enough.” Waverly answered honestly. “Something like this, it was a little thing that I knew would mean a lot, so it was an easy enough decision.”

Nicole had to laugh at that. She could feel a strange tension between them and she wasn’t sure if it was good or not. Instead, she offered the carrot to Sir Vincent. “That is very political of you, your Highness,” she joked. “Minimal cost for maximum effect.”

Waverly snorted. “Well, one does pick up a thing or two when assisting the queen run a kingdom. Besides,” Waverly turned as a head peeked around the wall, the pale tan mare blowing in her direction as she could hear a hoof stomping against the ground. “I’ve been told that Evelyne has taken quite a shine to him.” She stepped out of the stall to greet her own horse.

Nicole laughed softly, making sure Waverly was fully engrossed in her own horse before leaning closer. “What saps we are, eh Sir Victor? Such idiots for a pretty girl.”

Sir Victor neighed, butting her in the shoulder.

They spent almost an hour brushing the horses, enjoying the peace in familiar busy work and playful chatter before Nicole felt herself growing weary. This was the longest she’d been out of her room since they were rescued and unfortunately, Waverly noticed.

“Well, I need to prepare for dinner.” Waverly rinsed her hands off before drying them on an available cloth. “Allow me to walk you back to your room?”

Nicole gave her a half smile. “Shouldn’t I be walking you to your room, Your Highness?” The look the princess gave her brought Nicole’s hands up in defense, taking half a step back. “Waverly.”

“Let’s go, Lady Nicole or you’ll be lucky if the kitchen sends you a tray of more than bread and cheese for dinner.”

“I love bread and cheese,” Nicole responded with a snort, getting a playful elbow to the side in reward.

It took a moment, once back in her room, for Nicole to get the energy to clean herself up. She could smell the stables on herself and she liberated some clean clothes from her wardrobe, filling the large porcelain bowl with the pitcher of warm water that had mysteriously appeared while they were away. There was a collection of herbs and petals that she inspected carefully before dusting the water with one or two, letting them seep for a moment before dipping in one of the provided rags.

It was relieving, cleaning away the dust from her face, leaving a coolness behind after the slightly muggy air of the stables. She took care, inspecting in the mirror to make sure no dirt lingered in the ridges of the scar that went through her brow and cheek.

Did Waverly mind scars?

Nicole sighed heavily, attempting to shake the thoughts from her head. They would do nothing for her in the future, not with Waverly leaving the castle. Almost instantly, her mood began to dampen and she was a little rougher with herself as she continued to wash away her good mood with the dirt.

"Shit," Nicole winced as she ran the cloth down her arm, over the tenderness that still lingered from the attack. After changing into a clean set of breeches and having removed her shirt, she was already exhausted. Her injuries throbbed, and her muscles hurt, but it seemed with her impending departure, any moment with Waverly was worth the hassle.

Waverly, not Her Highness, but Waverly.

No, Nicole shook her head. Her Highness felt safer.

But the look in Waverly’s eyes seemed to soften every time Nicole used her given name.

“You are a blessed fool,” Nicole cursed herself. With one last swipe of the cloth, she reached for her linen shirt, taking a deep breath. She was about to pull the shirt over her head when a knock sounded at the door. Nicole moved to grab her sword as the door opened, but a familiar voice stopped her.

"Nicole?" Waverly stepped into the room, closing the door behind her.

“One second,” Nicole spoke quickly as she moved quicker than she should have, trying to pull her shirt over her head. She was glad she had her back to Waverly at the least as pain lanced through her side and she froze mid-motion with a hiss.

“Nicole!” Waverly set a tray on the bed before she moved quickly behind her. “Let me help you.” She had her hands on the shirt before Nicole could protest.

Nicole swallowed audibly as she eased her head through the collar of the shirt. There was a silence behind her that she wasn’t used to. She felt fingertips brush against the skin of her back, or maybe she imagined it, just before she felt hands helping the shirt ease down her torso. A hand pressed to her now linen-covered back softly and Nicole looked over her shoulder to see a glazed-over look of sadness on the royal face. “Thanks.”

Waverly swallowed audibly, stepping back. “There is still so much bruising. I should not have taken you to the stables. You should be resting.”

Turning to face the princess, Nicole captured the hand that still hovered in the air. “Please don’t regret that. It was the best day I’ve had in awhile.”

Waverly’s eyes dropped to their joined hands, her eyebrows scrunched in contemplation as if she wanted to say something but didn’t.

Nicole released her hand, dropping her own hands to rub against her breeches. For the briefest moments, she imagined the embarrassment if Waverly had walked in a few moments earlier before she had changed into them, and felt her cheeks begin to heat. “I, um… what brings you…” The close proximity of Waverly was playing havoc on Nicole as she breathed in the sweet floral scent that clung to the princess, no doubt from her own bath, “to my chambers?”

Waverly paused for a moment, as if thinking over what to say, before she nodded. “It would seem that the kitchen has come across some very delicious plums and…” She moved to the bed where she had set down a tray of sliced fruit and cheese. “I thought you could use something sweet after all that hay and dust.”

“Okay,” Nicole smiled. “But why did you bring fruit?” She'd already been sent a tray with chicken and root vegetables she'd eaten earlier.

Waverly raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth lifting in an inquisitive smirk. “Lady Nicole…”

“Your Highness?” Nicole winced as she sat on the edge of the bed.

Waverly’s wince reflected Nicole’s. “I’ll forgive you for that, simply because I know this pain is my doing.”

Nicole huffed. “Normally I would disagree with such a statement, but perhaps it would make you less likely to run a muck next time.”

“A muck?” Waverly rolled her eyes with exaggeration, bringing the tray as she sat on the edge of the bed, a little closer than she planned. “I think you should try this plum. It will keep your mouth busy.”

Nicole had no chance to argue as a sliver of plum was shoved into her mouth. She managed to pull back slightly, the sweetness of the plum filling her mouth as she chewed. Quickly swallowing, she narrowed her eyes at Waverly. “That’s delicious, but if you are not aware, I am fully capable of feeding myself.”

“Are you sure?” Waverly smirked. “You are quite injured.” She was about to eat her own slice of plum when a hand quickly captured her wrist.

Nicole wasn’t sure what came over her as she brought the hand to her mouth and captured the slice between her teeth, easily removing it from delicate fingers.

When her wrist was released, Waverly’s hand lingered in the air, a contemplative look on her face.

Nicole suddenly found herself sitting very still as the pad of Waverly’s thumb moved to the scar on her cheek, tracing the short line.

“What is this from?” Waverly’s voice had softened, no longer holding the teasing tone it had just seconds before.

Swallowing the fruit that had suddenly become a burden, Nicole licked her lips, seeing Waverly’s eyes lower to her mouth. “Two years ago, an army attempted to ambush us as we slept. Thankfully, I’m a light sleeper.” As the hand moved to caress the side of her cheek, Nicole felt her heartbeat increase. Her mind screamed that this was the princess. This was highly inappropriate, and yet she leaned into the touch, begging for the warmth.

“How can a two year old wound hurt my heart so easily?” Waverly’s question lingered in the air between them in wonder, but it seemed directed more at herself than at Nicole.

“Waverly...I,” Nicole began, but there were no words that could be formed. Her body and mind were at war, a war that overshadowed the years she’d been away from the kingdom -- a war that dared to leave scars deeper than a few marks on her skin. She knew she should pull away, but she remained frozen, her mind preventing her from moving forward, her heart preventing her from retreat.

It was Waverly who closed the distance between them, her lips pressing to Nicole’s in a caress that was gentle at first, as if waiting for Nicole to unfreeze before she deepened the kiss. Her hand slipped behind Nicole’s neck, pulling her closer.

Nicole felt the heat spreading across her cheeks as her eyes fluttered closed. On instinct, she returned the kiss, her hand coming up to caress the pillow-soft skin of Waverly’s cheek. The voice in the back of her mind was telling her to stop -- to break off the kiss and pull away from what was nothing but eventual heartache. But she ignored it, pressing closer as she’d only imagined was possible.

#at her service #wynonna earp #medieval au #wayhaught

25 notes · View notes