#my foul fae husband

[majesty-perfectgrey]

So.... I finished! This fic is based off of art by @tiredfoxtf . im really excited to have finally posted it and i hope everyone enjoys!

[alicentsaegon]

Beron Vanserra + Lady of Autumn mates AU masterpost🌰🔥🍁

Beron has Charles Dance's voice in my head btw, that's not up to discussion

Since mates are such a rare occurrence in Prythian, for a many centuries even in the present timeline Beron and Abella Vanserra were considered Prythian's IT couple. In the Autumn Court especially priestesses would marry couples and wish to be blessed "The way the Cauldron blessed our High Lord and Lady"

The mating bond snapped for Beron when he was in his early 300s and Abella was in her 40s. Yes everyone considered him the Fae equivalent of a cradle snatcher

Beron never actually believed he'd find a mate or any sort of love. He's a hard, jaded, unlovable man, and he had no delusions about himself. He had made peace with the fact that he's marry some female once he ascended as High Lord and they would tolerate each other.

Beron challenged her then fiance to a Blood Duel as soon as the bond snapped. Yes they fucked covered in his blood later. Abella did not grieve her beau once.

No one saw either of them two months after the mating ceremony.

Beron is predictably very very possessive of his wife.

All the smoke hounds Eris trains and breeds are descended of the two hounds Beron gifted his wife as a wedding present. Toddler Eris was obsessed with those hounds. They are all Borzois

Abella is neither demure nor a passive sweet woman who has to tolerate her husband's cruelty. Many times she revels in it. HOWEVER she's not afraid to use people's perception of her as a poor battered woman to her advantage if need be.

The Lady of Autumn is the more social of the two, unsurprisingly. She's the one to organize balls and diplomatic meetings, and has friends in many Courts. She's witty and sarcastic and very charming when she wants to be, like her youngest son Lucien

She's also very vindictive and very spiteful.

When they argue or LoA is in a foul mood the ENTIRE Forest House and even the sentries outside will hear.

She is loyal to a fault, like Lucien. It's her blessing and her curse. She has been loyal to Beron for over 5 centuries now.

Beron was a semi decent father to Eris, as a small child, until he started entering adulthood and his other sons were born, when he started viewing them as competition rather than his sons.

After 6(7) sons both Beron and Abella wanted a daughter. Beron specifically wished for a daughter since son number three, but they were unlucky.

Beron wants a daughter because a daughter, in his mind, will not challenge him. She's not a threat to him, she can't be High Lady, the magic would not choose her. He wants a daughter so in his mind he can be a father without the paranoia of that child turning against him in 50, 100, 300 years.

Helion☀️! Abella does not love Helion, she does not pine for Helion, she does not think of Helion.

Though even if she did, she would never even fathom the thought of leaving the Autumn Court for his sake. She wants to be buried in Autumn Court soil, the leaves to rot over her own body and roots to grow from her ribs.

The affair between Helion and LoA was a completely calculated move on her part, to spite Beron after he hurt and slighted her over something. There was no love, it was all power play for her, 'See honey, I can get any High Lord I want'

She blames Beron for the affair, apsolutely, and has not apologized decades later

Helion does not caaaare about Abella either remember how dismissive he was of her in ACOWAR over the woman he supposedly adores. The man has slept with all of Prythian. This is hardly a tragic love story

But perhaps he's a little disappointed he could not have had Beron and Abella both.

Lucien was an accident, or so Abella claims anyway. However Fae children are a rarity, of course they kept him. Everyone knows Lucien is a bastard except for Lucien

Beron is seething with rage. Seething. His feelings about Lucien are complicated to say the least. He keeps him close to him partly because he gets satisfaction over the thought he has the heir of another High Lord under his protection, that he can use him as a chip against Helion, if he has too.

He also actually grew to love Lucien as a child in a strange way, because similar to if he had a daughter, he does not view Lucien as a legitimate threat or competition. Beron's love is cruel.

But then Lucien grows and looks more like Helion every day and people whisper how Beron is a cuckold. He does not take out his anger on Lucien directly, however, but on Jesminda.

[majesty-perfectgrey]

IM FINALLY DONE WITH THE FIC ADEPTATION!!!!

i am so obsessed with your art; the way you draw hair is *chef kiss*

Could you do Vampire+Joel or Fae+Etho pretty please??????

Where is that vampire-fae marriage post at.

I think it should be considered a crime to make the most werewolf codded character a vampire (this is a joke btw), but he can be the best of both worlds, because it's hot.

[metanoiamorii]

Wip Re-Introduction: A Rope In Hand

❛Horror is like a serpent; always shedding its skin, always changing. And it will always come back. It can’t be hidden away like the guilty secrets we try to keep in our subconscious.❜

♧ Title: A Rope In Hand [ARIH]

♧ Status: First Drafting

♧ Point of View: Third Person, flexible between a few

♧ Genre: Dark Fantasy, Supernatural, LGBTQ+, Action, Drama

♧ Warnings: This story revolves around the occult. There will be talk of witch hunts and trials and cults. There will be torture methods used to gain confessions, and these methods will be justified under religious belief. There will be toxic and abusive relationships, particularly family; finding an escape from them, and healing from the trauma. There will be homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, and colonization. There will be major character deaths, but I can spoil after the book ends the main characters do get a happy ending. Each chapter and scene posted will have personalized warnings, but these are the main things to expect.

♧ Featuring: The majority of the characters will be LGBTQ+, from pansexual, homosexual, to asexual; genderfluid, agender/nonbinary, and transgender. Each character is complex and morally grey. Yes, they will do things that are blatantly terrible, or actively good. Overall, they will be morally grey and questionable at best. There will be complex world-building, from both the universe it takes place in, and the religious pantheons brought up. The religions brought up will be polytheistic and animism-themed. The romance between the major characters will be slow-burn enemies to friend to lovers, and them learning to love themselves through one another. There will be an exploration on generational healing, and unlearning toxic, and bias believes.

♧ Setting: The setting is influenced by Victorian London, and Medieval Ireland. There will be mention of other places, primarily western Europe, the Ottoman Empire, Ancient Rome, Eastern Asia, and Napoleonic France.

♧ Synopsis:

In the town of Arkaley, in the northwest of the Duchy of Ruairc, the people have been plagued by bad fortune and crime. Attacks of bandits on the road, raids from pirates on the shores, untimely deaths of children and young women, elected officials coming out corrupt; there is no end in Arkaley of the suffering the locals endure.

Rationally, to explain such a bad string of luck, there is only one possible explanation: Witchcraft.

The Duchy of Ruairc already has a history of witchcraft: the Ó Ruaircs turned out to be witches, the Abondé incident in Salem, the Liathain incident in Trakee; the Ruaircs have their record. Perfectly acceptable for everyone to assume the worse of the Ruairish, as they have proved to be nothing but.

To prove his worth, the young Reverend Prudence Clemency Frye, takes up the task of quelling this coven of witches and heading this witch-hunt. Young and naïve, witch only knowledge from books and little hands-on experience, he’s unprepared for this challenge. When he finally leaves the town, well… everyone would rather put this incident behind them.

♧ Tease:

My darling dear, a knave so clear

You appear, so bravely near;

Do you hear my darling dear, sneers of austere jeers?

Behave, my dear, when I am near;

For peers will lear, in their fear,

Allow me o' dear our persevere

So my fave you appear

And volunteer a slave so dear 

in an atmosphere we fear.

my darling dear, wave so clear

Depravely as we leave, and give a souvenir;

My lips to yours, as you crave in these fallin' years. 

Be brave darling dear, and give into hearts o' queer.

For mine you be, your darling dear, 

To the stars you have swore in love, so crystal clear.

My peers shall sneer, but whore I be, and you I crave

Oh so bare. slurs and glares, just listen to my prayers.

Kiss me love, and leave o'they to a'crave 

In this atmosphere that we fear

Their own, o' pure, knave so dear.

♧ Excerpt:

".... This is wrong." Prudence finds the words slipping from his lips, voice a quiet whisper; a breathless tone of voice. He allows his fingertips to falter against scarred skin, watching as Mastema turned his cheek, he pressed himself into the palm of Prudence's hand. Eyes closed, a smile curled on his face. Prudence couldn't help but smile at the scene, but slowly, slowly, slowly, he rescinded his hand; breaking the hold.

"Revered..." Matching his voice, Mastema replied. Maintaining such a soft voice, as he shifted himself forward on the bed. One foot to the ground, the other drawn beneath himself. Over Prudence he leaned, resting one palm to the sheets, the other lifting to seize Prudence's hand before he could recoil back. "You have made me feel something in which I've never felt before..."

From where he laid, Prudence could only form a soft frown. He knew he could draw his hand back, the grip was far from tight. But he didn't. He laid there, allowing Mastema to hold his hand. "... This is wrong, Mastema."

Mastema frowned; he matched the reaction Prudence wore. Through it, he forced a half-smile, tightening his grip on the other's hand, and forward he brought Prudence's hands to kiss the knuckles. "... If this is wrong, I do not wish to be right."

At the response, Prudence shook his head. "It is not for us to be right or wrong, the gods—"

At the angle he sat, Mastema shifted once more. He dropped Prudence's hand, to lean forward; to lean in close. Both of his palms found the other's cheek, as he touched their foreheads to one another. "... Do not force your will onto another." In that soft whisper, he spoke. Eyes closed, breath drawn in. "Is that not a Commandment of our Creator?"

"I..." Prudence faltered. In, he drew his breath, to try to steady himself. "... I did not take you for the religious sorts."

"I'm not." Mastema all too quickly retorted. But as he was, he laid; this proximity. "But you are."

♧ Characters:

The Order of Witchesbane

Prudence Clemency Frye; The Reverend

Half Fae/Half Human • Intersex • Genderfluid • He/They • Homosexual • Homo-demiromantic

The bastard son of Lord Zachariah Frye. Raised by his father, with his mother dying young, he took to following in his footsteps. He became a religious young man and an active witch-hunter. A part of him desires his father’s acceptance, his praises; the other part despises his father and everything the man stands for. In recent years, he has joined the De La Cruz household, becoming an apprentice beneath the famous Witch’s Advocate; upholding the beliefs that not every witch is evil and has foul intentions, and the ones that mean harm are the only ones that should be hunted.

Zachariah Frye; The Bloodhound

Human • Male • He/Him • Bicurious • Aromantic

The oldest living member of the Order. Now he is the man that holds the face of the Order, who you think of when they come to mind. Cold. Vindictive. Despotic. Violent. He is not a good man. He is firm in his beliefs and stubborn to change. Once his mind is made up, he cannot be reasoned with. He is blindly convinced of his beliefs and his cause to eradicate every living witch, unfazed if he has to fill a few innocent thousands in the process.

Calisto Ferzan Hermengildo Melchior Lorencio De La Cruz; The Witch’s Advocate

Half Fae/Half Human • Amab • Nonbinary • Genderfluid • He/They • Asexual • Aromantic

A witch-hunter in title alone, Calisto has been making enemies since he could first talk. He’s always enjoyed being the underdog, going against the expectations of society, being ridiculed by his peers. The sole reason? Proving them wrong. To ridicule his own peers for their outdated beliefs, he’s taken to defending witches, proving them innocent of their ‘crimes’, and going on to help them to set up a life in a country more accepting of witchcraft

The servant of Calisto, never seen far from his side. He is a servant in name alone and is more-or-less an assassin, a hitman for Calisto. Held in contempt by Athylian society for being a foreigner, he often treated by others more as a slave than a servant. To help be unseen, to help the De La Cruz Household, Michelotto endures the treatment and goes as far to be perceived as ignorant, alongside him being born a mute. Keeping his true intents and intelligence duly guarded, only a handful are aware he is also a witch.

Myk'loumihr [Michelotto Dougal] Siavash; The Man-Servant

Witch; Amab • Agender • He/They • Asexual • Aromantic

Austin Duvine; The Lord Without A Ring

Half-Human/Half Fae • Amab • Nonbinary • He/They • Pansexual • Demiromantic

One of the younger members of the order, Austin relies on his father's wealth and name. He doesn't care for responsibilities, he doesn't care for hard work. He's a playboy at heart. He's fit to hold social events, and use his natural talent to gib and fib his way through life. He'll keep his mixed feelings to himself, struggling with doing the right thing or upholding tradition.

Alistair Lavine; The Witchfinder General

Human • Amab • Agender • He/They • Bicurious • Aromantic

The best friend to Zachariah and his right hand. Where Zachariah is business and lacks charms, Alistair can charm a crowd and hold their attention. He knows how to feign being an ideal human, without letting on his own bloodlust; he's a monster in human skin. At the end of the day, unlike Zachariah, Alistair does have morals and standards he will abide by, even if they come back to ruin him.

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The Vakari Coven

Ausrine Baoghal; The Lady

Witch • Female • She/Her • Bisexual • Aromantic

The woman in charge of the town, widowed and inheriting the right to rule as her husband had no heirs. She is a manipulative and dangerous woman, eager to commit any sin or crime for more power. She, in truth, cares only for herself and would feel no remorse if she had to turn on one of her coven to further her own agenda.

The magistrate and also the chief policeman of the town. He maintains a  calm, but manipulative personality. As a front, he presents himself to be fair and just, liked and favored by the people for genuinely caring for them. While in truth he has his own heinous and sinister agenda, aiding Ausrine in her plans.

Leary O'Laoghaire; The Magistrate

Witch • Male • He/Him • Bicurious • Aromantic

The oldest member of the coven, Dairine lives under the guise of an elderly woman, who lives alone with her children and grandchildren already leaving her to live their own lives. She is a kind and understanding woman and cares for the younger witches in the coven. She will not support Baríon with her agenda, nor does she care for the servant girl, she even despises the so-called ally Ausrine claims to have and who they all adhere to.

Dairine Ó Séaghdha; The Crone

Witch • Afab • Agender • She/They • Asexual • Aromantic

The acting servant of Barion, Anisha’s true loyalties lie elsewhere. She stays within the town, serving the coven while acting as the eyes and ears of someone, the person who is truly pulling the strings. She is the one to relay information and letters between the coven and her master.  She is a quiet woman, that keeps her head down and her mind to herself. She only shows her true, confident and demanding, nature behind closed doors with the coven when they dare to question her.

Anisha Kaur; The Servant

Witch • Afab • Demigirl • She/They • Asexual • Aromantic

The charming son of Leary. Many whisper that is part fae, due to his charm, if it’s true or not many are unaware. He is a very sophisticated young man, that has managed to wrap the entire town around his finger. While on the surface he is alike his father is a caring, compassionate, charming young man, something sinister brews beneath. He is devious, demanding, domineering.

Nathir O'Laoghaire; The Magistrate’s Son

Half-Witch/Half-Fae • Amab  • Agender • He/Him • Bisexual • Aromantic

Being the baker's daughter, Liannah helps around the bakery and family business. Unlike the company she keeps, she is a reserved young woman. She is polite and maintains her manners with whomever she is dealing with. She has the patience of a saint and rarely loses her cool. Liannah is a woman with a calm demeanor about her, being a woman many are comfortable around due to her peaceful and calm aura.

Liannah Ó Buachalla; The Baker’s Daughter

Witch • Afab • Genderfluid • She/They • Asexual • Panromantic

Ausrine's bastard son she had with a spirit she bargained with for more power. Since he was young, he was raised by the servants of the house, and the coven, over his own mother; the two have more of a business relationship over a family one. Since he cares less about what his mother does, he spends his time with Liannah and Reyes, either at the bakery or getting into trouble somewhere. With Reyes as an influence, Mastema is a flirtatious man that enjoys scandals and making the most of life

Mastema Baoghal; The Knave

Half-Witch/Half-Spirit • Amab • Genderfluid • He/They • Pansexual • Demiromantic

Rochan Misra; The Charlatan

Half-Witch/Half-Spirit • Amab • Queer • He/She • Pansexual • Aromantic

A foreigner to the Coven, born and raised in the Duchy of Incali. At a young age, he became a traveling charlatan, recently settling within the coven only as he befriended Liannah and Mastema and enjoyed their company. Now, he is the local bad influence: scamming locals out of their money at the taverns, wooing and seducing young men and ladies alike, always trespassing and vandalizing something. He is trouble but has a heart of gold when it matters.

ARIH: : @hekat-ie, @writings-of-a-narwhal, @silent-creed

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Taglist:

General: @endlesshourglass, @writerray, @poore-choice-of-words, @alexwritesfiction, @primusesgiantmetalballbearings

Both: @cecilsstorycorner, @little-boats-on-a-lake, @hazard-writes, @egg-shark

[lillifaba]

A Very Merry Lurlinemas Eve

A very late, self-indulgent domestic one shot with the Thropp/Tiggular family I wrote for Lurlinemas! Hope you enjoy and have a Happy New Year!

Art by the beautiful @noether3​ ; Full image here! (Be sure to reblog if you like it!)

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“Yero, did you wrap the presents for Nessa and Boq yet?”

Elphaba hovered over the cradle, gently swinging it back and forth whilst making silly faces and babbling nonsense at the child nestled inside. At just twelve months old, Liir was amused by everything. His big, green eyes glimmered in the light from the fireplace, his mouth in the shape of a small o. He wrapped his tiny fingers around Elphaba’s index and cooed. 

“Yeah! I got them right here-”

He cursed slightly above a whisper when he stumbled into the living room and nearly tripped over his own feet.

“Fiyero!” Elphaba scolded. “Not in front of him! I don’t want his first words to be foul.”

“Sorry,” Fiyero sheepishly chuckled and set the presents under the tree. “It’s not like he can understand what I’m saying. Isn’t that right, little buddy?”

He squatted down and blew raspberries into his soft belly, making him squeal and giggle. Elphaba playfully rolled her eyes, brushing back the short, dark curls that fell over Liir’s forehead. She pinched his chubby cheek and got up to look at the haphazardly wrapped gifts Fiyero placed below the tree. 

“... Please tell me there’s still left over wrapping paper.”

Fiyero looked over his shoulder, still in the midst of a tickle fight with Liir. “Hm? You don’t like the way I wrapped the presents?”

“Yero, I say this with all the love in my heart... it looks like you layered the paper around the box several times and slapped a ribbon atop it.”

He feigned offense. “Fae! How could you? I’m wounded by your horrendible words!” 

“Oh Fiyero…” She sighed defeatedly.

“I’m kidding... Come on, what difference does it make? They’re going to be ripped apart tomorrow— why stress out over how the wrapping paper looks?”

“It shows that we put some thought into their gifts and didn’t wrap them up at the last second.” She stripped away a piece of excess tape stuck to the shiny emerald paper.

“Well, we technically did- but they’ll get over it once they see what they get. I can already hear Glinda screaming for joy when she opens hers.”

Elphaba rearranged the small, pink gift bag that contained the jewelry set for the petite blonde. It was true, they both put a lot of thought into what they planned to gift their loved ones.

“Well… I suppose you’re right,” She smiled up at him. “Thank you for wrapping the presents, Fiyero.”

“You’re welcome,” Fiyero walked over to her, Liir in his arms. “I must be the luckiest man in Oz to have the most patient wife, right Liir?”

Liir babbled nonsense in response. 

“See? He agrees.” Fiyero planted a sweet kiss on her cheek. 

“Of course he does, he has my brains.” She quipped. 

“Oh ha-ha...” 

They took a moment to gaze at the tree. Liir’s eyes twinkled at the dozens of multicolored lights glowing on the branches. His tiny hands reached out to grab an ornament doll made of tin. Elphaba gently pulled his wrist back before he inevitably put it in his mouth.

“Y’know… this’ll be the only time we’ll have for ourselves,” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Tomorrow will be one big day of festivating with the others.”

Elphaba hummed in agreement, stroking his cheek affectionately.

“-Hey, what do you say we celebrate a little early— just the three of us?” He suggested.

Elphaba looked at him, perplexed. “You mean… open our presents right now?” She quirked an eyebrow in doubt. “Shouldn’t we wait for everyone until tomorrow morning as courtesy?”

“No, no- just one present each!” Fiyero assured. “It’s a huge pile, no one’s gonna notice if a box or two is missing. Besides, with all the guests in one room, how will I get to see the absolute look of joy on your face when you open my gift?” He lightly squeezed Liir’s cheek and spoke in an adoring voice, “-and our boy has been good all year round! Well, aside from throwing up all over my dress shirt last week.”

“Oh, he didn’t mean to do that,” Elphaba smooched her son’s temple. “Maybe papa shouldn’t have spun you in the air right after you ate.” 

Fiyero winced at the statement. “Alright, that was on me- but the point is he deserves one early gift tonight!” Speaking in his baby voice, he smiled down at Liir. “You wanna see what Lurline brought you this year?”

Not comprehending any of his words, Liir incoherently blabbered. Fiyero took that as an agreement and plucked something out from the tiniest stocking hanging above the fireplace. He hid it behind his back as he returned, bending his knees to be at eye level with the child.

Fiyero presented a plush doll: a cutesyfied monkey with small wings stitched to his back and a friendly smile. “Look! This is for you!”

Elphaba played up her excitement at the toy, lightly bouncing Liir in her arms and coaxing him to look at it. The young boy looked unfamiliar with it at first, not sure what it was exactly. When his mother didn’t stop his tiny hands from touching it, he grasped it. A slow smile grew on his face, followed by giggles.

“Happy Lurlinemas, Liir.” Fiyero kissed his cheek. 

“Say thank you to papa,” Elphaba encouraged. The infant was far too preoccupied with his new toy to even acknowledge her. “I guess we’ll have to work on expressing gratitutions later…”

“He’ll learn.” Fiyero promised. He beamed brightly and ruffled his messy, raven hair.

“Well, since we’re at it,” Elphaba carefully handed Liir over to him. “I’ve got something I hope you’ll like.”

“Fae, you could give me a pebble as a gift and I’ll love it.” 

She leaned down and reached behind the tree. “That’s quite the reassurement, but I promise I got you something one step above a pebble,”

Wrapped in shiny emerald paper with a gold bow on top, Elphaba handed him a small box. “Happy Lurlinemas.”

Fiyero eagerly took it and lightly shook the box next to his ear. He handed Liir back to her and tore it open, revealing a gold wrist watch with a green dial. There were five, smaller sub-dials inside the watch, each one labeling the time of day for all the provinces in Oz. 

“Elphaba…” Fiyero carefully held the watch in his hand, examining it in pure adoration. “This is... I can’t even begin to describe it-”

“Do you like it? I wasn’t sure if it was something you’d wear daily.”

“Elphaba, I love it! It’s beautiful! Thank you, my dearest.” He placed a peck on her lips. With her help, he secured the watch around his wrist and basked in its glory. “-Speaking of which, I’ve been waiting all year to see your reaction to what I’ve got for you.”

“Is that so?” Elphaba watched him scour through the presents until he said “Aha!” when he found a medium sized box. 

“Here...” Fiyero sat cross legged on the floor. Elphaba followed suit and passed Liir over to sit on his lap, taking the somewhat heavy box in her hands 

“What’s this?” Her brown eyes lit up with curiosity. 

“Open it and see for yourself!” Fiyero grinned. 

A smile grew on Elphaba’s face. She tore away the gold wrapping paper, revealing a wooden box. Confused, she unlocked the latch and opened the lid. When she removed the bright blue fabric on top of her gift, she gasped in disbelief.

They were ruby slippers. Nearly identical to the silver slippers her sister owned. Elphaba had once brought up to Fiyero the time her father gifted Nessa the priceless pair of shoes as a parting gift at Shiz. While she did not care for extravagant shoewear, she remembered how hurt she felt when Frex didn’t give her something as little as a postcard. 

At the time, it felt like a stab to the heart, seeing Nessa look so beautiful and elegant in her new slippers while Elphaba lugged around in worn out boots like a beggar. It was a painful reminder of how low she thought of herself before she found the people she loved the most in life.

Elphaba couldn’t hold back her tears, her fingers hovering over the red jewels. “Yero… I- I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything…  your face speaks a thousand words.”

Elphaba placed the shoes to the side and frantically wrapped her arms around him. Fiyero placed a hand on the small of her back, laughing wholeheartedly at the kisses she planted all over his face.  

Below them, Liir cried out. Elphaba cupped his cheek and placed soft kisses on his tender face as well.

“Oh, I didn’t forget about you.” She spoke sweetly, smothering him in kisses. 

“Happy Lurlinemas to my most beautiful wife and son.” Fiyero said.

“Your only wife and son.” Elphaba teased.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He helped her remove her booties and slipped her shoes on. They were the perfect fit, comfortably tailored to her size. She stared at them in admiration, once more thanking her husband with kisses. 

The pair spent their evening playing with their child, enjoying the sacred time they had together.

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Thanks for reading! I’m sorry this is probably not my best work and that it was posted a little late in the season. This was mostly a self-indulgent fluff fic I’ve been meaning to write since I see so little of the Thropp/Tiggular + Liir family dynamic. I’m also technically still a little new to publishing fiyeraba fics that maintain their characters. Bear with me please haha ;; 

Thank you again to Emma for the beautiful art! Show your love by reblogging and commissioning her if you can!

[ashintheairlikesnow]

“You betrayed me” or a similar variant 🥺❤️❤️ Thank you ash

CW: Dehumanization, implied gore (fade to black)

“You... but you promised we would-... that you would grant me my freedom!” The creature fought the ropes that looped around its wrists, jerking it backwards and away from her, the hobbles around its ankles of a similar roughened rope knotted tight enough to chafe the skin raw. Its wings strained against the ropes that kept those gorgeous reddish-brown feathers strapped down to its back, feathers kept being rubbed far enough out of place to yank themselves free drifting down to the courtyard’s cobblestone path.

Leanisa lifted her chin, coolly, unmoved. She felt the carefully constructed structure of her dress as a kind of armor, and she gave a thin smile to the watching guards. “I did no such thing,” She lied, perfectly believable. 

The creature’s eyes widened, and she saw the blush of pinkish red that let her know tears would soon follow.

“You lied to me!” The creature screamed, and Leanisa felt the first stab of worry as she heard a furious fae screech layered under the human cry. “You, you said you-”

“I said nothing,” Leanisa snapped. “Someone gag it before we have to listen to its fae lies any longer.”

“I’m not a fae! I’m not lying! I’m not-”

One of the guards jerked it to one side by the rope attached to its wrist, and the creature stumbled, then stared at the rope and back up at the guard. It yanked its own right arm closer, pulling the surprised holder of the other end off balance.

Leanisa watched with horror as the creature used razor-sharp talons to slice its wrists free of the ropes. She took one step back, and then another. 

“Be still,” The creature said and Leanisa felt herself freeze, suddenly sure she must absolutely not move a muscle.

Its hideous blue eyes were locked on hers, and when the guards moved, the thing said, “All of you, be still!”

Everyone in the courtyard stopped moving.

The creature staggered to one side, then looked back at Leanisa. “You... said you loved me,” It whispered, mournful, and furious. “You said, you said, and you-... you’re giving me to your... your husband, you said-”

“I never said-”

“Silence!”

Her jaw clicked, her mouth closed so fast.

He couldn’t hold the guards. She saw them move, one step. Another. His foul magic couldn’t hold so many for long.

She realized that it didn’t matter - that still no one would reach her in time - as the creature flung itself at her, talons out, an expression of utterly human grief and rage written across its face. 

Just as if it were a man.

---

(details of fae biology and magic abilities referenced in this piece credited to @wildfaewhump)

[jane-fucking-seymour]

NEW LEGEND OF THE SIX - CHAPTER 25 - SECRET OF THE FAE

AO3 Link

They had lost.

Catherine rose with the others - almost all the others, actually, as Katherine had not rose - as they calmly looked up at their master, their lord.

Anne disappeared in a cloud of shadow, Maggie and Elizabeth’s screams a distant echo.

Anna disappeared in a surge of fire, a dragon screech almost drowning out the screams of thousands.

Cathy disappears in a cloud of blue and pink, the maddened wails of soldiers in her wake.

But Catherine… Catherine remains. And kneels. And offers her sword.

The person in front of her takes it, and he smiles.

Henry smiles, and Catherine feels… foreign relief.

“You’ve finally seen the light of day, have you?” he asks. “Go on. Fulfill your duty to your king.”

She stands, turns from Henry and Jane, who was suddenly there, and looks down at Maria. Maria is being held down by golden chains.

“Please,” Maria sobs. “Don’t do this, Catherine. Please-!”

The sword’s Blessed energy glows, but it’s angry. Pleading, almost.

“PLEASE!” Maria yells, but the sword swings down-

The Blessed suddenly gasps awake, sweating slightly as she gasps for air. She looks around wildly, grabbing her sword next to her-

-only for a steady hand to shoot out to keep the blade on the ground.

Catherine immediately whips her head towards the source, ready to fire-

“Catherine.”

She blinks.

“Anne?”

Anne Boleyn keeps her hand on Catherine’s, holding the blade down. Her gaze isn’t judging at all, instead calmly assessing the started Blessed before her. She keeps Catherine’s gaze until she sees the panic settle for the normal type of calm - well, as normal as it could be given the circumstances.

“You’re not usually this jumpy,” Anne observes, slowly releasing Catherine’s hand.

She steps back as Catherine puts the hand that was on her blade onto her forehead. She shakes her head. “Just a nightmare. Nothing more.”

“What happened?” Anne asks, standing up.

Catherine shakes her head. “It’s… it’s nothing.”

Anne is silent for a moment before she nods.

“Well, it’d be a shame for you to suddenly break your Oath, Blessed, so do try to remember which of us is friend and foe next time you reach for that blade of yours, yeah?” Anne asks, stretching. 

Catherine chuckles. “And here I thought we were being friendly.”

“Eh, we’ve been reunited for a day now,” Anne says with a smirk, looking over at the girl. “Let’s get out of here.”

They both step out of the tents they made for the night, stepping into the clearing that they had set up camp. The City of Everlasting Promise seemed nearby - infuriatingly so.

“Still stuck in this loop, eh?” Catherine asks with a sigh. “Even with how far we’ve gone…”

“Cathy has a plan,” Katherine says, but she’s not looking at the Blessed; instead, she’s looking forward, at Cathy.

The woman in question was with Anna, a few feet away. She was looking down at something in her hand, discussing it quietly with the Battlereeve.

“You’re probably right,” Cathy says. “I think that makes the most sense.”

Anna nods, somber. “It’s the only explanation I have as to why this area has grown so quickly in the time you suggested.” She shakes her head. “And with what you know about the Fae here… I think you might be on your own on this one.”

Cathy nods. “It makes the most sense, yes.”

Anne walks over. “Are we ready?”

Anna nods. “This is mostly Cathy’s show, but considering what I’ve been seeing, I think I can help towards the end.” She looks over at Cathy. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Cathy stands up, taking a deep breath… then starts to summon a portal. Multiple ones, actually. To so many places that there’s some even Catherine doesn’t recognize. Anna puts on a brave face, steeling herself, just before she moves to go into one of the portals-

“HEY! THAT’S CHEATING!”

-and suddenly, there’s Fae all around them. They’re a bit mad.

Cathy stops the summoning, a bit winded. “We were trying to get an audience with your leader-” Cathy starts, but a Fae steps forward and gets right into her face.

“NO, YOU PLAY WITH US FOREVER.” The Fae hollars.

Cathy shakes her head. “We can’t. You know we can’t.”

“Yes, you can!” The Fae is clearly distressed. “We can make it so.”

“But then,” Anna says, voice soft and kind. “We wouldn’t be able to help you.”

The Fae around them pause, chat amongst themselves for a moment.

“What do you mean?” The Fae ask.

There’s suddenly thousands of them around - so many voices and magicks that the group starts to feel whoozy. Katherine, in particular, leans a bit heavily into Anna’s side. Anna frowns, keeping the girl close, as she takes steady breaths in an attempt to steady herself. Even Catherine is affected, though far less than the rest of the group.

“What you’ve been showing us… these games… why did you make them?” Cathy asks.

The Fae narrows its eyes. “You dare ask a question of us?”

“To help,” Cathy tries. “To play-”

“This is NOT the game we wanted to play!” The Fae replies. A chorus of agreement is all around them. Maggie falls to the ground, holding her head, the world spinning. Anne tries to help her, but she’s struggling as well.

Cathy pushes forward; this had gone on far enough. “Alright!” she yells. “Alright. Let’s make a deal: we beat your next game, and we are free to go.”

The Fae chatter. Elizabeth looks pale.

The Fae smirk.

“That’s fine with me!”

All of the Fae’s eyes glow. All of them fade into nothing. All of them start to disappear into the mist that was now forming.

Cathy panics for a moment; before it gets too bad, Catherine rushes forward, grabbing her goddaughter just before they can no longer see anyone.

“This… isn’t good,” Catherine mumbles, looking around warily.

“No,” Cathy replies. “This is actually close to the plan.”

Cathy looks through the ring with a grin - through the ring, she can see as clear as day. She’s quick to bring them all together again. The mist fades.

The Fae are annoyed.

“How did you?” The Fae asks, but Cathy shrugs sheepishly.

“Through a ring can you see all things,” Cathy explains. “Especially one given to me by one of your own.”

They look over at the Fae in question and then back at Cathy. Cathy is smiling softly at the Fae in question. Then she looks up.

“I request an audience with your leader,” Cathy says again.

The Fae talk loudly around each other before, suddenly, they’re all transported again, this time back to the City of Everlasting Promise.

Catherine groans as she puts a hand to her head. She can’t seem to stop herself from grabbing her sword with her non-dominant hand. Elizabeth also seems to be unable to stop herself as she fights with her own off-hand, the two quickly pulled into a duel not of their own making.

Cathy is quick to stop this with some ice magicks. Anna takes the weapons before melting the ice. Katherine binds the two with vines instead.

“Is that what they made you do?” Cathy asks quietly, respectfully. “They made you fight each other?”

More angry voices. More swirling. This time, they’re back at the castle, and suddenly Katherine and Maggie are in some sort of path. They were stumbling through the path, and certainly would have fallen to their doom, had it not been Elizabeth and Anna using magicks and wings to guide them to safety.

“They tricked you, made you fear them?” Cathy asks, once again respectfully. The others haven’t said a word, refuse to at the moment. Anything they could say, after all, could damn them. “They used mind magicks?”

The Fae once again rise up in anger, and then, with a might shriek, they caused the group to fall to their knees in pain. When Cathy looked up, however, she’d find herself back in something of an ethereal Weston, with see through buildings and villagers. 

She’d see through her husband as the execution went through.

She did not expect to feel it.

She screams in pain, body writhing around as it continues. She holds onto her neck for dear life, she squeezes her eyes shut to block out the pain-

-until she feels someone put a hand to her shoulder and tense. The pain is considerably less, but still agonizing. She knows the armored leg next to her belongs to Anna, who has seemingly grabbed onto her. Then a golden armor appears next to her, and the pain lessens, and they continue more and more, with the pain getting less and less the more it is shared. Cathy can look up now, to see the others taking the pain with her, all grimacing at the unpleasantness but remaining steady.

It gives Cathy the strength to continue.

She gets up, and then, with a deep breath, she yells:

“I call for John Parr!”

It all stops as suddenly as it began, and the Fae are quiet.

After a moment, someone steps forward.

“You know my name?”

Cathy’s smiling through tears.

“I would be a terrible wife if I didn’t.”

The area calms, and the thousands of Fae around them disappear.

John frowns, a hand to his head. “What’s happened?”

“You were executed,” Cathy explains quietly, getting up. She’s not alone - Catherine is right there with her. “You were executed, but you couldn’t move on.” She holds onto her wedding ring, the one that she used before to clear the mist. “You were stuck here. And you still are.”

John frowns. “Why do I only just remember this now?”

“Because of the trauma perhaps?” Anna asks. “Because of the magicks?”

“Magicks?” He asks, and he tenses as he remembers. “Oh, my god, the magicks-”

“Where?” Cathy asks quietly, and he’s clearly shaken, but he’ll answer.

“They… they’ve done some foul things, Cathy. They’ve hurt us all. They’ve trapped us here.”

“As prisoners?” Cathy asks.

“As energy sources.”

Cathy looks over to a Fae nearby, the Fae from the mirrors. 

“I remember now, too,” they say. “Guess I just needed the reminder.”

“You’re all trapped here because of some magicks that are intended to keep you here for energy?” Catherine asks, and Maria tenses a bit because of the tone. Catherine’s furious.

“Yes,” John replies. “I… we’ve been turned into something we did not know was possible.”

“Anything like this is possible,” Anne replies gravely, “if you are a Keeper of Necromancy.”

Anna frowns. “You think Jane’s done it?”

“I think she’s part of it,” Anne says. She looks over at Catherine. “You can’t call me biased in this either, you know what they can do. The bad ones.”

Catherine sighs. “I don’t think I could argue with you on that,” Catherine relents, and she shakes her head. “This needs to be undone. We need to figure this out.”

“This was the biggest game of all,” Cathy says, moving closer to John. “Figuring you out. Figuring this area out.” She wants to hold his hand, to embrace him, but she knows she can’t; it’s too risky. Embracing a Fae - regardless of how they were made - rarely has good consequences. “We need to get out of here.”

“You can’t,” John replies. “Not without leaving something here. Not without a placeholder.”

Cathy frowns. “That shouldn’t be a problem.” She holds up her wedding ring, on its chain, and lets it go - it floats in the air. “My heart is clearly here. And here it will stay.”

John frowns. “I’m sorry, Cathy.”

Cathy smiles back. “So am I.”

He takes the offer begrudgingly, taking a deep breath before the ring disintegrates into nothing. Cathy forces herself to watch, even as it feels like her heart is being ripped from her chest all over again.

“I’ll strike a bargain, one that is for me and me alone, not my comrades,” she says quietly. “We help free you all, and I get my trinket back.”

The Fae discuss it with each other for moments before they all go silent at the same time.

John steps forward.

“You are a Friend of the Fae, Catherine Parr,” John says quietly. “And we will accept your terms.”

Cathy nods. “Let us leave, and I will fulfill my end of the bargain.”

Everything starts to fade - the City, the Fae, and John. Cathy can barely hold back tears as her husband fades away, barely holding back sobs. He smiles until he’s no longer visible.

“Are they gone?” Katherine asks, looking around warily.

“Not gone,” Anna says. “Just out of view.” She looks at the Catherine’s. “We need to get going. We’re not too far from Parlemont, which means we can grab the Seroserum and sprint to the Festival.”

Catherine agrees. “Even at our fastest, we’ll only have one shot at this.”

Cathy takes a deep breath before she uses her magick to summon spectral horses. Catherine raises her eyebrows at that, but Cathy doesn’t seem to care.

“Let’s do what we can, then,” Cathy says. “Push on.”

With a nod, they ride.

Elsewhere, far, far away, the Capitol’s festival preparations were in full swing.

The town was buzzing with anticipation of the upcoming festivities - servants and villagers alike ran in the halls, putting up decorations. The courtyard was converted to fairgrounds, with people setting up tents and mead halls and sparring pits. Already many had made their home there, and for the next few months they’d likely remain. The city was completely energized and excited.

It was a shame its queen couldn’t feel the same.

Jane watched from above it all, at the top of her tower, fairly passive. This, normally, would be one of the most exciting times of the year: the King would be in incredible spirits, as would the entire world around her, so Jane would have no choice but to be happy. 

This year, however, was anything but a joyous occasion: her work was far from done, and would likely get more complicated and dangerous from here. The defenses - which she usually had no part in - were now her sole objective of the festival preparations thanks to her newly-minted Keeper status.

The people she worked with didn’t seem to question why the queen that once was in charge of the food and drink of the festival was now the head of security; they didn’t ask what had changed since her disappearance. Not that she’d be able to say why, after all; her being a Keeper was a closely guarded secret. Still, despite the secrecy and the like, people did start to look at her differently, even if they had no clue what was really going on.

Her dress, for example, was no longer what it was. Her signature black and white long sleeved dress with a cloak on the back was now replaced by a light coat and pants situation, with the seal of the Realm right over her heart. Her staff was no longer the long elegant one she was known for, but instead one of hard angles and a green crystal that seemed to faintly glow occasionally. It was a massive change, though that change was met with sympathy, with the people thinking it was through her trauma that she had changed.

Which, technically, they’d be right, but also so very wrong.

“Mum?”

She was brought out of her thoughts by a young man with a bright smile and something behind his back. Jane smiled back at him, brightening up at the sight of him.

“Hello, Edward,” Jane says fondly, softly. “How are you?”

“I’m well, but, uhm,” he says, bouncing up and down excitedly. “I’m… here!”

He whipped his hands around from behind his back and showed off what he made - a wooden star, painted black and white, with Jane’s name on it.

“Just like how we used to!” He says. “But this time, this star is for you!”

Jane swelled with pride as she took the star, smiling at him and hugging him tightly. “I love it, Eddie. Thank you.”

He nodded, his smile faltering after a moment, as he nuzzled into his mom’s shoulder as they continued the embrace. “I’m… not entirely sure what happened before.” Jane tenses as she remembers the situation. “But I think you saved me from something, didn’t you?” He releases and looks back at her. “I think something terrible’s happened, hasn’t it?”

Jane sighs. “You know it’s bad of you to say those things so loudly, don’t you?”

Edward shrugs. “Elizabeth said I shouldn’t worry that much. That he needs an heir.”

Jane chuckles. “She’s bright for her age, but that doesn’t mean he can’t hurt you.”

“I know,” he admits. “Because he can hurt you instead, and that’d hurt me.”

She pauses at that, looking down at her boy, before she nods. 

He looks up at the stars then, and smiles.

“At least we’ve the stars to keep us company.”

Jane tilted her head curiously as she watched the stars move above them, a small smile slowly appearing on her face. Eddie’s laughter rang through her ears soothingly, like a song she never wanted to stop hearing.

“We should make a wish!” Eddie says with a small smile. “You always said a meteorshower like this means that the gods are listening closer than ever, so we should make a wish! One that we can think of so loudly, they’ll have to listen.” He closes his eyes, head still tilted towards the sky. “I know exactly what I’m going to wish for.”

Jane chuckles and nods, going to close her eyes before, suddenly, her gemstone on her staff starts to angrily pulse. She stiffens; it means she’s being called.

It stops as soon as Eddie opens his eyes, though, and he smiles.

“I hope it comes true. For both of us!” He nods, backing up. “I gotta go now, though; I promised Joan I’d help with the decorating.”

Jane nods, a bit relieved that Joan’s keeping Edward focused on other things while Jane continued with her grim task. She’s been a lifesaver, that Joan.

“Go on, and give her my best,” Jane says. Eddie nods, sprinting off with a final wave, down the tower and into the courtyard. Jane can see him as he meets up with Joan. He starts off and Joan looks up, directly at Jane. They share a moment before Joan nods courteously, then follows the boy.

Jane’s smile fades the farther her son gets from her.

She goes to the middle of the room, to a seal. It wasn’t there until recently. She presses down on it, and suddenly she’s transported to a room with no doors. It looks like a cellar of some sort, but Jane understands that this is no cellar; it might not even be in the world.

She takes a deep breath and moves towards the gentle pulsing orb that is in the center of the room. It’s actually quite soothing… or it would be, if it wasn’t the personification of the God of Death.

“Can… you hear me?” she asks. 

The glowing orb pulses.

“I’ll, uh… I’ll take that as a yes,” Jane says quietly. She watches the orb for a moment - the movements are rhythmic. It’d be calming if it wasn’t a literal beacon of death.

“I’ve done some more research into you,” Jane says, head tilted down as she continues. Her tone is respectful. “And how you operate. And how… Keepers of Necromancy are.”

The pulsing continues, so she does as well.

“It’s a really interesting history, if I’m being honest. The ways that Keepers of Necromancy are rarely by choice, but by traditions or some sort of Pact.” She lowers her gaze. “Of Pacts that held treaties in some of the Forgotten Kingdoms.”

The orb glows brighter, pulsing suddenly before tendrils of green energy extend from it, dropping to the ground. The tendrils of light form into people. They’re completely green - still made of the energy of course - but their eyes are glowing.

Jane frowns. “Are these… other Keepers?”

She walks to each of them. One holds out their hand, still emotionless. Jane tilts her head curiously before taking it.

She gasps, head thrown back as her own eyes glow green. She’s pulled into a vision, looking through the eyes of the person whose hand she touched as if it was her own eyes:

“Callum,” the woman next to them, hand in theirs. “I know this isn’t what you had hoped. I understand that this wasn’t in the plan. But you must understand - this is for the good of us all.” She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eye. “I know you will do this with grace. I know you won’t disrespect us. I just know it.” She starts to tear up. “As much as I did not want this for you.”

And with that, Jane is released.

She stumbles backwards, hand to her head as her eyes fade with the green energy. She gasps for air as she watches the person she had just moved to dissipate into nothing.

“That…” she takes a deep breath before composing herself. “That makes sense.” she looks back at the orb as the rest of the figures disappear from view. She steps forward. “I thank you for telling me more about my current… predicament.”

She’s being far more formal than usual because this was, after all, a god she was talking to. A god that now held her soul.

For now.

“I came to ask for a blessing, of sorts,” she continues. “Though I’m unsure if you grant them to your Keepers, I hope that you can honor your servant’s request.”

The orb does nothing.

Jane looks down at the ground, averting her gaze, taking a deep breath before she looks back up at the orb, intensely.

“I’d like to make a Pact of my own.”

A hum fills the room and Jane smiles at it.

[realpokefairy]

*Not the sequel to the reverse AU but that's also on its way*

Either Jude was absolutely wasted or the high king of Elfhame was standing in her bedroom.

She realized suddenly that it was both.

He towered over her, his fashionable boots made to add inches to an already tall frame. He was wearing mortal clothes, Jude realized, but the information seemed to get lost in a swirl of dizzying thoughts, each more foul than the last. A black jacket, leather, black, or maybe navy, ripped jeans. She laughed, her intoxicated state unable to conceal any secrets. Of course he'd wear ripped jeans.

She realized then that her intoxication would make her as truthful as her husband.

"Cardan," She began, the words spilling out of her mouth, disjointed, some syllables echoing far from her, "my king! What brings you to my humble abode?" A giggle slipped out this time. "And why are you so uncharacteristically quiet?"

"It would seem that wine is more my friend than it is yours," he said. His voice was still arrogant, as though he knew something she didn't. Jude hated it. Maybe if he kept talking, he'd tell her his secrets. "It would do you well to keep your voice low, lest we wake your neighbors."

Jude giggled. Cardan thinking about her mortal neighbors, even being considerate towards them, was laughable. It was so laughable that this must have been a dream all along.

"Wine may be your friend but vodka appears to be mine," she said, pressing her fingers against Cardan's flat stomach, tracing it's ridges through the thick leather. She ran her index finger up the length of it, then brought it down along with the zipper, revealing a t-shirt underneath. Jude frowned in disappointment.

"Jude, this isn't why I'm here. You need to listen to me-"

"Honey, I won't remember anything you tell me now when I wake up tomorrow. You've been smashed a few times, you should know."

He stopped trying to get her to focus. He sighed, as though giving up, or perhaps giving in. "Then what do you want, my wife?"

"I want you to pardon me but we can save that for when I'm sober enough to punch you in the teeth. For now... you're too tall."

"Excuse me?" The words were oddly mortal, Jude thought, but the thought was gone as fast as it had come.

"Kneel."

Cardan seemed absolutely flabbergasted. "You want the high king of Elfhame on his knees before you?"

"Yeah," she said, moving closer to him. She could feel his body's warmth, hear his quickening pulse.

He reluctantly got down to his knees. Jude could tell , though, that his eyes seemed to glow with a mix of amusement and anticipation. She tilted his face up towards her. She pressed her mouth against his, feeling the familiar warmth of his tongue tracing her teeth, her tongue. It was like finding something crucial without ever having realized it's loss.

For a second she was completely sober and she wondered why she had kissed him instead of kicking him in the ribs and then leaving him in the woods for the solitary fae to find.

She broke away from the kiss, and he pulled her into another one. She didn't know when it ended, and a part of her knew she wouldn't remember anything anyway. She might've even slipped her t-shirt off at some point. Or that might've been his t-shirt.

She'd figure it out when morning came, except the sun washes away all our drunken sin.

All, except for the broken zipper lying on the floor beside her bed.

[milomeepit]

Diamond In The Rough: Chapter Ten

Roman has always wanted better. Has always believed that there’s a better life, a better world, just out of reach. Just beyond the veil of shitty teachers who don’t care, angry classmates that scream insults and slurs at each other all day, and drug-hazed parents who are more concerned with their next hit than looking after their ten year old son.

When he runs away after a particularly bad night at home and finds a quiet little cafe/bookstore tucked away in a back alley of the city, the sweet couple who run the joint (an odd pair; a quiet, gloomy man with a wry sense of humour and a cynical gleam in his eye, and a bouncy man who smiles like sunshine and laughs like a storybook king) help show him that maybe- just maybe- he really can have the life he always dreamed of.

Masterpost (to be added soon!)

Word Count: 1338

Chapter Warnings: food, stranger danger v2, daydreaming, anxiety, foster care mention, parent abuse mention, yelling (mostly from Roman), crying (also mostly from Roman)

Roman drummed his fingers on the tabletop of his usual table near the counter as he watched Virgil flit around the room, offering refills and recommending books to customers as they wandered around the cafe. He sipped his own drink, a tall glass filled to the brim with a frothy, sweet hot chocolate, and grinned. Virgil deftly stepped over a spilled drink, snatched the mop from the corner and wiped the floor clean on his next pass without ever missing a beat. Roman still wondered sometimes if Virgil really was a fae of some sort. He was so... graceful.

The front door slammed shut, and a tall man appeared at the top of the stairs. Roman had seen him around the cafe quite a few times, he seemed to be a regular. Patton and Virgil would usually sit with him and chat for a few minutes, and then return to their usual flow of running the cafe. Roman tried to remember his name. Liam? Landon?

"Heya, Logan!" Patton greeted him cheerfully from behind the counter.

Ah. So close, and yet so far, Roman mused as he took another bite of his sandwich.

"Hello, Patton. Would I be able to speak with you and Virgil? Privately?" Logan asked quietly. "It's quite important."

"Well, of course! V, hon, can you come here for a minute?" Patton called, making the taller man pause in his rhythmic pattern and look towards them.

"Yeah, coming," Virgil responded. He ruffled Roman's hair affectionately as he passed.

Roman noticed Logan watching the brief interaction closely, and felt a shiver run through him at the stony expression on his face. Something felt wrong, but he was sure Virgil and Patton would sort it out. They seemed like they could solve any problem the world threw their way.

He sighed dreamily as they disappeared into the kitchen, his mind already wandering to a pleasant daydream. His parents had always waved him away if he asked for help with homework, but he was sure that Virgil and Patton would be able to help if he ever had difficult homework.

Patton was really quite clever when it came to history, Roman had learned. He enjoyed watching programs where people dug up pots and bones and old houses, often talking to Virgil about the significance of the items discovered, and Roman listened intently. Virgil, meanwhile, was incredibly quick at math, rattling off customer's totals without batting an eyelid, or helping Patton figure out how much of this or that he needed to make bulk batches of food.

This, of course, only further fueled Roman's theory that the two of them had stepped off the pages of a fairy tale. Any issue thrown their way would be quickly conquered by their combined might! He giggled quietly to himself as he imagined Virgil fighting a dragon, big and bristling as it swiped at him. It would be no match for him, naturally, and he would quickly fell the foul beast, rescuing the kidnapped victim- Roman- and sweeping him into a tight hug.

He was distracted from his wandering thoughts by the chair across from him being pulled out. “Hi, Vir-” He froze as he looked up, seeing the brown eyes and angular face of the dragon Logan staring back at him. “... Oh. It’s you.”

“Hello, there, Roman,” Logan greeted him pleasantly. “How are you going today?” He clasped his hands together on the table and smiled.

Roman looked around for Patton or Virgil, but neither of them were visible. They must still be in the kitchen, he realized as he turned back to Logan. “Um... good. How are you?” He asked hesitantly.

“I’m quite well, thank you. Do you mind if we talk for a bit?” Logan stared at him evenly, and Roman shrank back in his seat.

“Uh, I-I guess,” He mumbled as he grabbed his hot chocolate and drank from it. His gaze dropped to the table, unwilling to meet his eyes. “What about?”

“Well, I wanted to ask how you know Virgil and Patton.”

Roman’s stomach dropped. “... Why should I tell you? Who even are you, anyway?” He snapped.

“Well, my name is Logan Kennard. I’m a social worker, one who works with children in...” He paused for a moment. “... Less than ideal circumstances. I know a bit about you, and I know you’re a long way from home, Roman. I wanted to ask you what was happening before we do anything about the whole... situation.”

“Don’t get them in trouble!” Roman blurted out loudly. He clapped his hands over his mouth as several customers glanced over at them at his outburst, his face red.

Logan raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“They, um, they haven’t done anything bad!” Roman insisted in a softer voice. “I... they helped me. I didn’t have anywhere to stay, and they let me come to the cafe, and-and then Virgil came and found me after I ran away, and he talked to me, and they offered, and I wanted to go with them. They didn’t take me or anything bad like that. They’re really nice, I promise!”

Logan nodded, scribbling into a small notebook. “Right.” He snapped it closed and set it down on the table. He leaned forward a little, his expression softening. “Roman, you know they should have called the police, right? People can’t just take in kids off the street, there are rules about this kind of thing.”

“Yeah, I know,” He mumbled. “But they’re really, really nice. And I really like them.”

“I know. But you can’t stay with them.” Logan drummed his fingers on the table lightly. “Why are you out here, anyway? Your parents must be worried about you.”

They wouldn’t be. “I ran away,” Roman shrugged, curling in on himself again. “I didn’t want to be there anymore.”

“... Are your parents abusive to you?” Logan asked, his voice softer than Roman had ever heard it.

Well, they didn’t hit him or anything, and that’s what abuse was, right? He’d seen it on TV shows that his mother watched, crime shows with angry husbands and terrified wives and brooding detectives. “No,” He shrugged. “I just... don’t like it.”

Logan sat back and looked at him. His gaze was sharp and appraising, and Roman squirmed under the weight of it. It was a few uncomfortable seconds before he spoke again. “Well then, Roman, we need to send you home.”

The lump in his throat solidified into a rock in his stomach. “W-what?” He stuttered. “Back to my parents?”

Logan nodded. “If there’s problems once you get settled back in, we’ll be able to look at you being placed into foster care and finding a better home for you.” He picked up the notebook and started to stand.

Roman jumped to his feet, ignoring the tears forming in his eyes, and shouted as he swatted at Logan’s chest. “I don’t want to go back! I want to stay! You stupid-!”

A pair of strong arms wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides, and he shrieked, starting to cry as Patton appeared in front of him, shushing him and stroking his hair. “It’s okay, kid, everything’s gonna be okay,” Virgil murmured in his ear from behind him.

Logan watched them, his expression unreadable, and Roman hated him for it. He hated his round glasses and his cold eyes, hated his notebook and his straight shoulders and stupid tie. Why couldn’t he just listen? He was as bad as everyone else Roman had met, not like Patton and Virgil.

He stifled another sob as Virgil scooped him up, holding him close as Roman trembled. “Come on, buddy, let’s go back to the apartment,” He said softly.

“But-but what about the cafe?” Roman whimpered. “It’s only lunchtime.”

“Patton can close up and follow us home later. We need to go grab your stuff.”

“But, I don’t-!”

“I know, bud.” Virgil shook his head, already striding across the cafe towards the staircase, a frown on his face. “I know.”

[kurtty-drabbles]

You can run away but I will always find you. (Fae AU)

@djinmer4 @dannybagpipesarecalling @discordsworld @bamfoftheundead

N/A: Uhm, what Am I doing here?

Escape was a foul idea. Sadly, Kitty Pryde was full of foul ideas as she manages to find a crack on Kurt´s defence system and escape without hesitation. Now, hesitation is caught up with her as well, the worst of all, longing.

She spears so many time with the fae. She makes love with him and even sires two children with him. Does she want to throw this away? Does she even belong in the human world?

"No one notices my absence" Kitty states as her kids are in school and her husband is at the court. "Do I want to leave?" she asked this to herself until, finally, the answer is clear for Kitty.

Later, Kurt arrives as his kids are already home with their mom. Kurt ordered them to go upstair as he wants to be alone with his wife, the kids´ giggles and make jokes ("we will get a new brother or sister?") and obey their father´s command.

Kurt´s finger touches a strain of hair and puts behind her right ear as now he comes closer and whispers to her ear. "did you try to run away?" as his other hand is grabbing her breast not minding to the fabric. Clothes mean nothing to him.

"I did but I give up"

"Why?"

"Because...you´re my home"

"Correct"

[tallat-of-thralls]

Hexes and Curses

I'm going to briefly gloss over their terms then talk about my opinion on them and my personal experiences with them.

Hexes

They're typically a short term and foul exchange. I have worked with people whom have been hexed before or were suspected of being hexed. Hexes are easily dispelled once configured. De-hex programming first figuring out what derivative the magic is.

Common sense would imply lunar magic, jar hexes, and hex bags. These are the most popular forms. The two latter can be diffused, destroyed, and cleansed. Lunar magic, is a form of celestial magic. It can be redirected or dampened using deflective wards and sigils or drawing upon it rival celestial body (draw on the sun to dampen lunar magic, that sort of thing).

Most hexes are annoying as hell. They aren't usually powerful enough to cause serious harm or be passed genetically.

My favorite 10 hexes include:

The Wet Sock Hex : They will have the worst luck with socks. From always losing them to stepping in moisture when wearing them.

The Untucked Shirt: Clothing Will always look messy and disheveled. Wrinkly shirts, pants ride too high, skin rubs, always missing a button when buttoning, ruffed collar, shoes that come untied all the time, unappealing bulges, etc. (This is top 3 favorites)

Burnt Toast: They will burn at least one meal a day. Mostly breakfasts like toast or dinners like rice.

Pox Upon Thee: There skin will feel like its constantly crawling, tickling, itching, rubbing. It will make them scratch and pick.

Weakened Fuel: Decreased energy from fuel sources such as calories, vitamins, fertilizers, gasoline, diesel, etc.

Tasteless Spice: Everything will taste off or bland until they add more spices then it will taste too much like that spice. (My favorite.)

Sour Breath: No matter how often they brush their teeth their mouth will always taste mildly like bile.

Apathy: Tempts people with laziness. This one can trigger depression so i suggest to lay off the apathy, use it only in mild doses particularly towards rude or aggressive customers.

Bursting Bubbles: Never a moments peace, something will always come up that forces the person to have to deal. Whether its a buzzing sound, weird chills, pets acting up, etc.

Constant Glare: no matter the sitting position or modifications, their vision will be unsettled by a glaring light source or they will be distracted by their own reflections in the surface they're working with.

Truth be told, they are all minor inconveniences.

And obviously, this isn't all of them. Think of hexes as reverse minor spells. To be creative, imagine the most annoying convenience you can imagine upon yourself and apply it to your hex work.

Magickal being associations: Fae (fairies), demons (low tier imps), certain mischievous dieties

Want to know how to do my fave hexes? Just ask. They're pretty simple. Most have small load times and quick runs.

Curses

Curses are long term afflictions that can be passed genetically through bloodlines or even familial associations. Sometimes its for specific person over a life time.

Because of how long magick has existed, one might argue there may be a curse upon almost every bloodline. Thats just speculation. Some curses will dilute over several generations thus becoming innocuous quirks of the family. Like bacteria and viruses, i feel some curses go a long way in shaping the bloodlines reputation.

Still, i feel that under certain principles, you shouldn't curse a bloodline to effect unborn innocents. That's my own moral opinion on it. If youre morally flexible and understand the self consequence of some curses. Whatever. I dont want to hear about the backfire.

I wont be listing any curses. I dont like casting them intentionally. Many curses are cast by "accident" using uncontrolled anger, impulsive desires, envy, resentment, overall toxic emotions.

Curses are harder to break than hexes. It truly depends on the caster, the intent, desired effect, and how it can correlate to the person or bloodline.

Many curses shouldn't be removed, for as i said they could be instrumental in the development of the bloodline. Or, this particular person/bloodline shouldn't have it removed.

Dont feel obligated in curse breaking, many witch bloodlines exist to propagate certain family curses while other bloodlines sworn to break them. Dont get yourself accidentally mixed up in this family feud. Both sides will turn on you faster than you can understand the curse business. Dont be a hero but also dont be particularly villainous. Both have consequences.

Magickal being associated: angels, djinn, devils, demons (high tier), Fae , draconic

I have met several people with curses. My husband was one of them. His was a family curse inflicted upon him and his siblings by a methed out gypsy bitch. How many licks does it take to get to the core reason for these curses? Is the curse dispelled? The world may never know.

..........

I feel that ignorance to these kind of magicks breed infection. You dont have to practice them but know that protecting you and your close ones requires knowledge of the more taboo subjects. (I suggest researching religions and taboo practices. National geographic has good documentaries on these topics.)

My favorite way of handling any hex directed towards me is 10fold deflection. Make a sigil or snare, charge it back up the best you can and return to sender. Sometimes it doesnt work, practitioners that hex often know to put a diffuser if their problem child ever returns to them. Point is, the hex is then nullified or not your problem anymore.

To help out a friend, use banishing, cleansing, and/or purification rituals to dispell hexes.

Curses requite a shit ton of work. You have to know the source, the back story, the intent, and how it is intertwined with the fate of the cursed. If a curse is fated, then you or your friend are s.o.l.

..........

There you have it.

This is my take on curses and hexes based upon my understandings. I havent included my family knowledge just because the details in it can be worked in reverse to create powerful curses/hexes.

Remember, sometimes its better to act than to cast. The consequences are usually manageable and blatant if you act upon your own will. Manipulating forces around you can cause reactions that are unforeseeable, unpredictable, and not always managable.

To put metaphorically, if i have a bag of garbage i dont whine about the garbage and pray that some one makes it go away. I grab the bag, lug it to the dumpster, and toss it out. I may get leaked on but its better than having rotten garbage on my floor.

If there are any questions, feel free to ask;

AethyrSecretary 🌙

[luna-crow]

The Unseelie Way | OPEN

Luna tipped her head back, a faint smile on her lips as she watched the fragrant smoke waft from her lips. Finn had clearly upgraded the quality of his cigars since they were young. She had only been sprung from Wisteria for a few days, and already had fallen into the party habits of her twin brother. An anecdote about their days sneaking cheap cigars was lingering on the tip of her tongue before she remembered her twin had left with one of the brothel’s most expensive ladies moments before. Considering The Hollow was the most exclusive brothel in town, that was saying something. Finn’s night in paradise would set him back the cost of weeks of his household staff’s pay.

Only she and one of Finn’s companions remained of the once uproarious group, their table littered with empty goblets.  For a time it had been enough to drink expensive wine and flirt with the beautiful fae that served them. But, eventually they peeled off one by one, each person leaving the group as they spied a beautiful faerie to spend the night with. Rollo seemed to have fallen asleep face down on one of the many couches in the parlor, a steady snore rumbling from beneath his smooshed face. The rest of the group were strangers, drinking alone, with friends, or one of the scantily clad prostitutes. 

Luna had merely tagged along, preferring the warmth of The Hollow to a cold night in with her foul tempered mother. She was merely window shopping, she rationalized, starring at all the beautiful prostitutes at The Hollow like pretty trinkets in a shop display. No need to touch when her eyes could caress instead. She had done plenty of that tonight, a particular lupine faced faerie catching her attention all night. His hair was the color of shined copper, and his wolfish smile had turned her way more than once

Luna rolled her neck, slowly forcing herself to sit back into an upright position. A clumsy hand reached toward the half filled wine flagon in front of her. The smile began to fade as Luna caught sight of the sapphire wedding ring glinting on her finger, her left hand residing back into the folds of her gown. A sigh flew from the duchess’s lips as the memory of she and Thayne’s last fight seeped to the surface of her thoughts. This time it was with the right hand that she reached for a drink, stubbing the cigar out, and filling her goblet  with a generous supply of the remaining flagon. Right now she wanted to immersed in the  of the luxury brothel, not stewing in the gloom of her suddenly rocky marriage.

“Are you looking for company, my lady?”

A smooth and melodic voce caught Luna’s attention, the duchess looking up to see the copper haired prostitute, his hand outstretched. Luna paused for a moment, her gaze sliding down the deep V of torso. She unconsciously twisted her wedding ring around her finger, flashes of her fight with her husband playing in her head.

 “I...maybe I am.”

[featherymalignancy]

"Kick his ass for me" elriel (not au, if you don't mind 😺)

Based on the Five Word Prompts. See the full list here, and Feel Free to send me more!

“Kick His Ass for Me”–Elriel.

Sorry this is so long I don’t have it in me to write less than 3,000 words, apparently.

Elain gave a contented hum, letting her eyes drift closed as Azriel ran a knuckle up and down her bare back. She could hear his heart beating, proud and strong, in her ear as she lay on his smooth chest.

“I could stay here forever,” she purred, lifting her head to kiss him. It was slow and sensual, and he groaned when she parted her lips to let her tongue dance with his.

She could feel the cold press on his new wedding band as he threaded a hand around the back of her neck, and it made her heart jump even now, six weeks after she’d first slipped it onto his finger.

“So could I,” he said, nipping at her jaw. “But we have to go.”

In lieu of responding, she rolled onto her back and gazed up at him through half-lidded eyes. It was a deliberate maneuver, and one that Azriel didn’t fail to take note of. It was one of the many things she loved about him; nothing every escaped his notice.

Accepting her silent invitation, he slipped a hand to the small of her back to lift her chest even further before lowering his mouth and grazing one of her nipples with his pearly teeth.

“You destroy me,” he breathed, biting down gently. She mewed, writhing against his wicked mouth as she reached for his left wing. However, he pulled it tighter against his back, out of her reach. “But we have to go,” he finished, sitting back onto his heels. “We’re forty-five minutes late already.“

“So?” she said, drinking in the sight of him, knees splayed and cock on fully view. She didn’t care that he’d been inside her only minutes ago; she wanted him again. Wanted him in a way she hadn’t known existed until he’d shown her. Physical intimacy had always scared Elain, but Azriel had never made her feel anything but safe, and her sexuality had bloomed under his careful touch. Now she was like a woman possessed. She reached forward to grab him between his legs, but he intercepted her hand, circling her wrist.

“So,” he repeated. “That’s forty-five minutes Cassian’s had to dream up sexual jokes to make at our expense.”

At this Elain did sit up, frowning as she blushed. Azriel smiled, brushing a thumb down her cheek.

“I love that I can still find the words to make you blush, m’Elanedd. It’s so charming on you.”

He leaned forward to kiss her again, but it was gentle, chaste.

“I doubt you’ll find it charming when it’s the result of one of Cassian’s innuendos. They’ve gotten worse since the wedding. Or better, I suppose, depending on how you think about it.”

He gave a soft snort of amusement, kissing her nose.

“Get dressed. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

Usually Elain liked to take her time getting dressed, finding the ritual of it relaxing, but today she got into her gown in record time, not bothering to do anything with her hair but run a hand through it?”

“How do I look?” she asked, smoothing a hand down the supple silk of her lavender gown.

Azriel surveyed her.

“Gorgeous,” he said finally, eyes bleeding back to her face. “As always. You should be more careful in your appearance though, m’Elanedd. You are so beautiful I’m sometimes afraid the sun will grow jealous and refuse to rise.”

“Don’t be obsequious,” she warned, playfully pushing his shoulder.

He grabbed her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“A husband’s privilege.”

She turned to press both hands to his chest, tipping her head back to gaze into his eyes.

"Те сакам,” she murmured in Illyrian, and he smiled eyes dancing with a newfound joy.

“I love you, too,” he breathed, kissing her softly.

Not bothering to break the kiss, he swept her into his arms and carried her to the balcony off their bedroom. Their palatial townhouse overlooked the Sidra, which glittered in the mid-summer twilight.

Elain rested her head in the crook of his neck as he unfurled his wings and took to the sky in a single, elegant motion. It was a short flight to the House of Wind, and he was setting her down on the marble promenade no more than five minutes later. As if on cue, Cassian emerged, grinning like a wolf.

“Well, well,” he said. “Lovely of you to finally join us.”

“Fuck off,” Azriel said, voice light as cuffed his brother affectionately on the shoulder.

Cassian’s grin widened as he turned to Elain.

“That’s a beautiful dress, Ellie. Is it new?”

Elain knew it was probably a trap, but in the absence of a clever retort, she merely said, “No, why do you ask?”

Cassian’s smile grew wicked.

“Well I just figured, after the number Az did on your poor wedding gown, the rest of your clothes might have befallen a similar fate on your honeymoon.”

Elain rounded on Nesta, who’d just appeared on the balcony.

“You told him about that?” she snarled, going scarlet.

Nesta had the decency to look sheepish.

“I—“ she began, giving her mate a look that promised violence. “It slipped out. And you weren’t supposed to say anything!” she snarled quietly at Cassian, which had Elain pursing her lips.

“It slipped out, did it?”

Cassian raised his eyebrows is smug self-satisfaction, looping an arm around Nesta’s slim waist.

“Mates don’t keep secrets from each other,” he said, turning to glance down at Nesta. Despite his teasing, Elain could see something reverential soften his gaze as he look at her sister. “Isn’t that right, My Love?”

“It’s no secret I’m going to knee you in the balls if you can’t learn to keep your mouth shut,” Nesta growled, wrestling away for him.

“I love you too, Darling,” he called as she flipped him a foul hand gesture and stalked back into the formal dining room.

“Oh, let poor Elain be,” Mor said, resting her head on Elaria’s shoulder. Her hair was an enchanting lily white, Elain watched as Mor tucked it behind her fae-tipped ear with heart-breaking gentleness before smiling at her mate. “They’re in love.”

By this time, Azriel had reappeared, offering Elain a glass of wine as he strung an arm around her waist.

“Don’t worry,” Cassian told Elain with a wicked grin. “Thanks to your tardiness, I have plenty more ammunition.”

With that, he sauntered off to find Nesta again.

“I told you,” Azriel said in her ear, kissing her temple.  She could feel him smiling against her skin.

“I don’t regret it,” she said, meeting his eye. “Fucking you will always be worth a little of Cassian’s nonsense.”

Azriel’s gaze heated, and he disguised a sensuous nip to her fae-tipped ear as another chaste kiss.

“Cauldron,” he breathed. “I will never get tired of you saying things like that.”

She smirked, raising her eyebrows.

“If you thought that was good, wait until you hear what I have planned for when we get home.”

Leaning up, she whispered a promise in his ear so filthy she made even herself blush, and Azriel’s laughed, the sound low and throaty.

“I can’t wait,” he said, and she gave him a sweet smile, bleeding from his side to embrace Mor and Elaria, who’d just returned from a visit to the Winter Court to see Elaria’s sisters.

They enjoyed several drinks on the balcony as the sun set, then retreated inside to have a dinner that spoke very much to Rhys’s extravagant tastes. Elain watched Cassian throughout the meal, knowing it was only a matter of time before he made good on his promise and let another bawdy joke fly.

However, his attention seemed to be more focused on Nesta, stealing green beans off her plate and sips out of her wine. Out of habit, Nesta was feigning annoyance at his teasing, but Elain noted the sparkle in her eyes as she chided her mate. It was brightness Elain had never seen before Nesta had met Cassian, and it warmed Elain’s heart.

By the time dinner had ended and they’d retreated to the den to have a final drink, Elain had nearly forgotten about the whole thing. Cassian had coaxed Nesta into his lap, and seemed content to sit and listen to Mor and Rhys discussing her visit to Winter as Nesta ran her long fingers through his unbound hair. In fact, it wasn’t until Nesta rose to fetch another bottle of wine that Cassian turned to Elain. However, she could tell by the gleam in his eye that her reprieve was about to come to an abrupt end.

“So when should we expect children?” he said. “Seems like you two have been practicing quite a lot.”

"Knock it off,” Azriel warned lazily, twirling a lock of Elain’s hair around a practiced finger.

Cassian only cocked his head, quirking a sinful eyebrow.

“Why brother, are those nail-marks on your wings? Elain, you wicked little thing! Don’t you know how sensitive Illyrian wings are? Gauging them like that, you must have had Az coming in his—“

Elain cut him off by tugging a pair of gloves Azriel had tucked into his belt and hurling one at Cassian. It hit him in the face, but he only laughed in response.

Cassian laughed, lobbing the glove back to her. “That didn’t even hurt.”

Elain only raised an eyebrow of her own.

“It wasn’t supposed to. What, don’t tell me you’ve never been challenged to a duel before.”

At this, Cassian howled.

“You want to fight me? Elain, my little fawn, don’t make me laugh.”

“Why?” she said, giving him a placid smile. “Are you afraid you’ll lose?”

Cassian laughed again, and Rhys interjected, “I hate to take Cassian’s side, Elain, but he’s right. It’s not a fight you’ll win.”

“Why not?” Elain queried mildly. “I know how to fight; Az has been training me.”

At this, she shared a smile with her new husband, and he gave her a reassuring wink.

“Az, you can’t be serious!” Mor said. “He’s at least two times her size!”

Azriel only shrugged, running a hand down Elain’s back.

“She can take him.”

Cassian bubbled his lips, and Azriel gave him a dark grin.

“Unless Elain’s right, and you’re afraid you’ll lose to a female.”

“Of course I’m not,” Cassian said. “But Nesta would murder me.”

“She’s not my keeper,” Elain said. “And if you won’t honor my challenge,” she gestured to the glove lying on the floor. “Then I win by forfeit, and you are never allowed to make another comment about our private life ever again.”

“Rhys!” Cassian whined, feeling the magic of a bargain stirring in the air. “You can seriously be condoning this!”

Rhys laughed, rubbing his jaw.

“I’m curious to see how this plays out,” he admitted. “And if Azriel’s is fine with it, then it means he knows something we don’t. Besides, let it never said that we don’t honor bargains in the Night Court.”

Cassian groaned, and this time Mor laughed.

“You’ve really done it now, Jackass.”

Cassian assessed first Azriel then Elain, scowling. Elain could see his Illyrian instincts urging him to meet the challenge, and his chivalry telling him he shouldn’t.

Elain shrugged.

“Well that was easy,” she said, twining her hands in Azriel’s hair to give him wanton kiss she knew was driving Cassian’s joking nature crazy.

“Fine!” he said. “Let’s do it.”

“What are we doing?” Nesta said, coming back into the room with Feyre.

“Elain challenged Cassian to a duel,” Mor said. “And he’s just accepted!”

“He did what?” Nesta snarled, and Cassian gave her a placatory gesture.

“I have to!” he said. “My honor’s at stake!”

“Absolutely not,” Nesta said, but Elain was already rising to her feet. 

“I’m going to find some leathers. See you in ten minutes.”

She emerged into the arena a short while later, ignoring Nesta and Feyre’s continued protestations. Smirking at Cassian—who’d shed both his fighting leathers and his siphons—as she extended a wordless hand to Azriel. He deftly unsheathed Truth-teller, flipping the blade in his hand and offering it to her hilt first. She took it before then accepting a second knife from him, a diamond-bladed, pearl-handled hunting knife that was Truth-teller’s twin. Light-Bearer, she’d named it when he’d gifted it to her on their wedding night.

Cassian watched her twirl the two blades, but eventually opted not to bring a weapon into the ring with him.

“To first touch,” he said, casting a nervous glance in Nesta’s direction, where she was still storming. It gave Elain a petty satisfaction to know that all his sexual jokes were likely going to end with him enduring a long sexual draught of his own.

“Boring,” she goaded. “But okay.”

“Know that if I win,” Cassian said, flexing his wings. “The jokes are going to get a lot worse.”

Elain felt a twinge of unease at this prospect, but she merely turned to Azriel. He smoothed her braid between in middle and index fingers, eyes twinkling.

“Kick his ass for me,” he breathed, and she smiled.

“On your marks then,” Rhys began. “Three, two—“

Elain took a deep breath and closed her eyes, focusing her mental energy as Rhys called one, and Cassian exploded, moving almost faster than she could see. Or at least faster than her eyes could see. Unfortunately for Cassian, it wasn’t her traditional sight she was relying on.

She let her hold on her power loosen and focused it on Cassian, and in a flash of understanding, she could see every move he was going to make in the entire fight.

She easily dodged his blows, simply dancing around the places she’d already seen he’d be. He was impossibly nimble for a warrior of his size, but Azriel had honed her fae speed, and with the foresight, she managed to outmaneuver the Lord Commander.

“Shit,” Rhys laughed, watching as Elain dodged another blow, carefully herding Cassian into a corner without him fully realizing it. “How is it even possible that she’s keeping up with him? She’s only been fighting for two years.”

“It’s almost as if she can see his moves before he makes them,” Azriel said sardonically, eyes gleaming with delight.

“No,” Feyre breathed, stunned “She can focus her visions like that?”

Azriel only smirked.

“I told you she could take him.”

“Nesta,” Cassian said, dodging a swipe from Truth-teller. “Throw me a sword!”

“Absolutely not,” Nesta deadpanned, though the anger had bled from her voice, and Elain could tell, even without looking at her, that she was amused.

“This little witch is going to unman me with those fucking things!” he said, half-laughing and half-pleading as Elain swung Truth-teller at him and missed. “I know you don’t want me to lose your favorite part.”

Elain laughed before almost catching a fist to the gut, and she refocused, seeing Cassian flip over to try and grab her from behind a fraction of a second before he tried it. She arced Light-Bearer up in an elegant slash just as he was mid-flip, slicing the strand of hair that had come loose from the leather thong Cassian had tied it back with. It hit the ground as he landed, and Elain whirled, Truth-teller aimed at his throat and Light-Bearer at his belly. Rhys and Mor roared with laughter as Feyre cheered.

Cassian laughed too as he raised his arms in surrender, and when she lowered the blades, he beamed.

“That was brilliant,” he said, before seeming to realize what the fight had just cost him. “But since you’ve already beaten me, maybe you can take mercy on me and let me make just one more—“

“Never,” Elain said, admiring the inky blue whorls of flowering vine that their bargain had produced. She held it up for Cassian to see. “We agreed, remember?”

Cassian grumbled good-naturedly, and Azriel cleared the ring in a smooth leap, coming to sweep Elain into his arms.

“That was inspired,” he breathed in her ear. And seeing that the others were suitably distracted, he added, “And you have no idea what watching you fight like that does to me.”

Taking her hand, he guided it down until she was cupping him. He was hard as granite against her palm, and Elain felt heat pulse in her belly. She needed him. Now.

“We’re going home,” she announced to the others, not taking her eyes off Azriel’s face. “We need to be alone.”

Cassian opened his mouth to make a lewd retort before scowling and retreating to Nesta to sulk.

“You’re an idiot,” Elain heard Nesta murmur in her mate’s ear as she kissed his cheek. “And I’m glad you weren’t castrated.”

“Don’t come by the house for a few days,” Azriel added to Cassian’s broad back. “We’re going to be very busy.”

Cassian growled his annoyance and Elain grinned at her husband.

"Nothing to add, Cas?” she asked mildly.

“You two deserve each other,” he grumbled, letting Nesta run a hand through his hair. “You’re both evil.”

Elain smirked.

“Maybe someday you’ll learn to control that fat mouth, and I won’t have to embarrass you in front of your wife.”

“Be gone, witch!” he laughed, and not bothering with any further goodbyes, Elain strung her arms around Azriel’s neck as he took flight.

In the end, they didn’t wait to get home to celebrate Elain’s victory, and as Elain’s watched Azriel’s wings flexing to keep them aloft as he pounded into her in the skies above Velaris she thought she just might tell Nesta about this, too. After all, what was Cassian going to say about it?

#answered #fivewordprompts #ask me more!

[anotherramblingfangirl]

“She of Sidhe”:

I decided to try write something based on a couple of the posts I did that were in turn based off of @zenxenophilia faeformers!

This is a testament here as to how when I say “I’ll just do a drabble”, it’s never as short as intended. 

All the same, I hope those who read enjoy!

“Well, hello there.” The thing that looked like a woman but wasn’t a woman spoke first, eyes surveying over lazily, like a cat considering whether it was worth pouncing on a mouse.

“I was not expecting any guests.” She leaned forward in her chair, hands resting on her chin.

One of the afore mentioned guests, felt a glint of sweat rolling down his face as he surveyed the place.

Nobody knew he was here. They couldn’t. Not with what he carried with him.

But that only meant that if something happened, that if the dark creature broke free and attacked, nobody would be able to happen him.

Fortunately, all that bound it here seemed to be attacked.

He would only be in any danger if he did not watch his words.

“What brings you to my humble abode?” A predatory smile.

 “I…I.” He gulped, shuffling the sleeping baby in his arms.

He had to do this, for her. Or she would never last even her first year in this place.

“My daughter…”

“Your daughter?” Was said incredulously, a peel of laugher let off.

“I can smell you both from here mortal. Smell and sense your delicious lives, and she is not your daughter.”

It was then that the man nearly lost her footing, for in the blink of an eye the sidhe had gone from sitting on her chair to mere inches away from him, sending him reeling backwards in a panic.

“Let me see her th-“ A yowl then as it thudded off something invisible, hands grasping it’s face in pain.

“You can’t threaten me here. Not in this place. You can do nothing!” He spoke up, voice wavering as he did something brave.

Laughter was not the response that he expected.

Dark laughter, growing louder and louder, distorting until it sounded like many, many voices at once, coming from just one mouth alone.

He wondered if those were the voices of those lives it had eaten.

Eaten, before Marissa had caught it.

 Marissa sheaved the blade in her sleeve, held in place by a series of leather straps

Sheaved the blade and then reached for two branches collected from a rowan tree and tucked one within each boot.

She would need all the protection she could get to catch this thing.

Then it was the matter of making her way to the home of the leanan sidhe and the husband it was slowly murdering.

Marissa scowled as she did so, becoming quickly aware that she was being watched.

She could see them.

From fluttery little glowy things dotting about to larger creatures, who lurked in the shadows.

She had always been able to see them even when nobody else could, something which has resulted in her unfortunately, incessantly, being bothered by the sordid lot of them.

Always having to get involved in their fae nonsense.

Ugh.

At least it had a practical use.

You had to take whatever footing you could if you wanted any chance at keeping any humans safe from the fae, never mind an entire village.

However, this sight especially concerned her.

Because with how many were nearby now, how many were watching…it’s like they knew what was about to happen.

And if they knew…then could-?

Marissa swore and hurried her steps.

“I can do nothing. Oh, but that isn’t quite true is it? If I was powerless you wouldn’t be here, sweating away. You’re desperate. You want something from me. Something for that…daughter of yours.”

It was back again, leaning as close as it could to the edge of its prison, trying for a glimpse at his sleeping child.

He has her twisted away as far as he could, refusing to let it have that glimpse.

“You don’t look human, I know you don’t. I want to know how you seem to.”

“Glamour. You want the infant glamoured.”

“She isn’t safe, not without it. They’ll kill her.”

“Oh certainly.  It’s why I find the whole business with changelings a rather nasty affair. Sending our own children off to fend for themselves against your kind who would burn us what chance they get.” The life drinker’s face turned quite foul at that, a seething hatred clear in its voice.

He couldn’t tell if it was sincere, but it affected him deeply all the same.

Affected him as he looked down at his sweet little fuzzy girl with her itsy horns, horns that had gashed his hand when she had tried to play by headbutting it.

As he felt through the blankets her tiny wings shift, as she seemed to dream of flying.

Innocent as to what would happen if she ever did.

 “And if they do, if they burn her, then that of her blood will know and burn every mortal here and curse the lands until not even weeds will grow. Until not even insects will be able to bear maggots to crawl your rotting corpses.”

The man couldn’t bring himself to speak for a moment, couldn’t bring himself to look away from his daughter either.

Not about the spoken fate of the village, no, still on the thought of his beloved child being burned like a witch.

But then he finally asked a question.

Then that of her blood-

“You know her blood, you know where she came from?” He didn’t want to give her up. It would kill him to do so. But if it meant she could be safe-

“I told you I could sense both of your lives. before you even opened that door, they were there just for me.”

    The door opened just about the moment that Marissa knocked, a blond, sullen looking woman at the doorway.

At least, she looked like that at a glance. But the human knew that if she looked close and concentrated hard enough, she would see something quite different.

Like she had before.

 “Mary! Hello? I wasn’t expecting any guests now. Not with…not with how my husband is.” Alice choked up at that point, burying her face as if the news that her target was dying somehow devastated her.

And her hunter played along, as if she did not know any different.

Just in case her fears were wrong and the Leanan Sidhe did not already know what her intentions were.

“I heard the news. Word travels fast.”

Word of a man suddenly drawn into near solitude by his new wife, of a man just as suddenly overcome with a sudden artistic vigour, one so intense that it was literally killing him.

“I’d like to visit Sam. See how he’s doing.”

Not a single lie in that statement for any fae to detect.

Alice sniffed

“I don’t want you to catch anything but…” She sniffled again, wiping a tear dripping from her eye.

“Samuel!” She called. “Samuel you have a guest! It’s Mary. Would you like me to let her in?”

A grunt was all that came back, but still his wife beckoned forwards taking it as a yes, stepping away from blocking the doorway.

And at the view given by that, Marissa harshly sucked in air through her teeth as she fought back a gasp.

It had gotten even worse since she had last been here.

Scrawls were all over the wall, all over the floors, furniture rearranged into rudimentary sculptures…everything was chaos.

And Sam himself was in the middle of it, with what looked like a knife in his hand, scraping away at the floor to carve even more art.

He just about looked like a ghost.

Eyes hollowed in with dark shadows shrouding them further and skin that looked like it hadn’t seen the sun in years.

“Sam?” She moved in slowly.

He grunted.

“It’s me. Mary.”

Please don’t correct her, please don’t correct her, please don’t correct her-

But he didn’t say anything at all.

No.

He was too far gone for that.

“He’s getting worse.” Alice warbled. “The doctors don’t know what’s wrong and no medicine is working. He’s just…wasting away.”

It was then that Marissa felt a vice like force as Alice hugged her from behind, burrowing it’s face into her shoulder, warbling continuing but this time she couldn’t tell what on Earth was being said.

She tried to shake the woman off, politely objecting and trying not to show her unease.

Was it part of the devastated wife act or a trap?

The grip tightening suggested strongly the latter.

She objected again, much more firmly as a final warning, now trying to access one of her hidden blades.

The grip tightened further.

And then she started to feel dizzy.

“You didn’t think you could outwit me, did you? That I’d just roll over and die like one of the lesser beasts you’ve dealt with? No, you’re in my house now Mary. My land.” Dozens of voices whispered into her ear as a dark creature raised its head.

“Not that Mary’s your real name, although the other mortals seem to accept it enough. A nickname, perhaps? I wonder what your true one is. Marianne? No? Mar-”

The villagers knew to go by any name given about her, knowing full well by know what she did, even if they didn’t quite understand.

Marissa meanwhile gave up trying to yank the blade out, it blocked from descending by the Alice’s arms.

She needed something, and she needed something now because otherwise, if this thing knew her name and used it…then she was already dead.

“What’s going on?” Sam said drowsily, as if in a dream.

All the while Marissa had to fight the fog that was now descending down upon her, to stay alert enough to grab any opportunity she could to get out of this grip.

“Marlene’s just feeling poorly darling.”

“Her name’s not Marl-“

And the intention that statement drew was all the distraction she needed.

She lifted her boot instead, yanked the rowan branch out of it and stabbed.

The sidhe howled, dropping her and clawing to remove it from her leg as Marissa removed a pouch from her belt and charged.

She pulled the string and shoved the rowan berries straight into her mouth.

Alice would not be able to say anything any time soon with that.

The shriek intensified along with a distinct burning smell, and Marissa was sent flying across the room, thwacking against the wall with a crunch.

She hit the ground with a roll, before meeting the eyes of the panting creature.

The disguise was completely gone now, she didn’t even have to try see through it, it eroded away by the rowan.

The fae could not use any magic with those in her system.

Not enough of a dampener to be able to kill her, but enough so that she could defeat her.

Meaning time to go on to the next part of this.

Marissa drew her blade and sprinted out the door, leaving behind a howling monster and a babbling victim of it.

Come chase me you murdering bastard

Don’t let me get away

Come chase me and see what a mere mortal can do

   “So, to answer your question- certainly.”

Oh, she knew exactly where the little sprog came from, even if she couldn’t get a good look at it.

A mighty shame.

She always had liked children.

“You don’t?” However, she wasn’t entirely inclined to believe the man trying to insinuate ignorance about the situation.

He was far too alive for that, surely.

And doing what he had was hardly something anyone, even powerful fae, could do by accident. Or on purpose at that, she would have thought.

“No! I found her!” He protested.

And strangely enough…that didn’t seem to be a lie.

“You…found her. Just like that?”

  Sure enough, when she was so close to making her way to the first trap set, the sidhe found her.

Although strangely enough, all the others who had been watching before had vanished.

Perhaps even they did not want to risk getting on the bad side of a life drinker.

And they actually had the option not to.

She on the other hand, did not.

And for that she now had burning talons, tearing into her back.

Marissa screamed in agony, whirling wildly to hit the thing and make it stop.

It caught her wrist and without a word at all broke it like a twig, sending the iron blade it held flying.

Her yells meanwhile, brought fellow villagers to their windows, peering out to see what was going on this time.

But not one stepped out to try help her.

It was lucky for her then that she had more than one blade, even if she did manage to only slightly slash her assailant.

That was still enough for it to loosen its grip and this time when it went to hit her again she was able to dodge.

The creature let off another snarl and lunged, but it was a beast that fought typically by use of dark magics, not brute force, and so unused to this method and without the advantage of coming from behind, it missed once more.

Unfortunately, though, Marissa missed the next blow she tried to land too, it going wild, the throbbing pain in her back proving to be one hell of a distraction.

Neither could land a solid hit on the other it seemed.

But surely enough, the fight kept pushing her back.

Back, to exactly where she wanted to be.

 The mortal really had apparently done exactly that.

Accidentally found an unseelie heir in the woods and just taken her home.

She doubted her Lord would be pleased about that.

Although…the fact that this man before her was carrying his child in the heart of a human settlement and still alive…he surely could not know.

Never would he willingly permit such a transgression, such a personal transgression at that, to occur.

Oh, she really had found herself in quite an embroiling situation, hadn’t she?

Finally.

An opportunity had handed itself on a platter.

 Finally, the opportunity arrived, Marissa had reached the propped-up sack.

She dropped down, grimacing as talons lightly grazed her faces, and sliced it open, sending grains spilling out of it.

The fairy stared in horror at the increasing mess, unhinged jaw opening and shutting and the edges of her darkened eyes twitching uneasily, before dropping down herself, moving to start counting.

Marissa gave the bag a kick for good measure, allowing even more to spill out and causing Alice to wail, before resuming her run for the next part.

Confident she’d bought herself the precious time needed to pull it off.

   “If you’re going to just play games and not tell me anything then…then we’re done! You hurt people and I want no more to do with you than I have to.” Was oh so bravely demanded.

“Or, can you do it? Can you help my daughter?”

“I can. My magic’s bound here but I know where you can get what you need to brew up a glamour.” She spoke in a voice best described as utterly bored.

He had only a moment to feel relief at that.

 “But not for free.”

This was something he’d particularly dreading.

Wicked folk like them never gave anything for free, it was to be expected, but he feared what was to be asked for.

“Knowledge for knowledge mortal. It’s only fair. Or will you forsake your precious child because you don’t want to answer a question?”

The baby let out a cry then and he realised he’d been holding her tighter and tighter the whole time, now waking her up.

“I’d do anything for her.” He answered honestly, as he hurriedly tried to console her. Making reassuring sounds and gently rocking her, in a vain attempt to get her to fall back asleep.

His distraction at that meant he did not see the expression that response got him, but he swore he could feel it. 

Feel that look burning into him

“Anything?”

 Marissa was barely able to do anything at all, never mind run by the time she reached her home, breathing ragged and her face and back soaked with blood.

Blood, drip, drip, dripping onto the floor leaving an undeniable trail of red behind her to follow.

She wiped her hair away from her face, bloodied hand leaving a steak across that too as she did.

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out - get it together Faireborn. 

Especially as it was not long now.

Not long until the leanan sidhe was dealt with, so that it could never harm any humans again.

Not long until she could then go to the village doctor.

She just needed to wait a bit longer.

That was all.

…Although, as she took one last look around, knowing all the meticulous preparations she'd made to this place, she did have to think

...She was going to miss her home.

Even with the red stains all over it now.

Perhaps she should try treat that herself- ?

No. She had no idea what she was doing with things like that. 

Nor did she have enough time.

The grain would only hold the sidhe back so long, after all.

She would see her here soon enough.

 “Then let me see her. I can’t know how strong a glamour she needs if I don’t see her.”

A reluctant presentation was then given, although he refused to actually hand her over. She would just have to be looked at from afar.

The baby herself grumpily objected meanwhile, not understanding why she was suddenly being held out and not cuddled.

“She has wings too. Under the blanket.” He added on, thinking that probably relevant.

“It’s certainly a hard glamour you’ll need then. Not just a visual one.” The fae cooed at his daughter while answering, waggling its fingers at her.

“And what do I need to make that?” 

The assessment made, he once more retracted his daughter immediately.

 "Ah, ah." A finger wagged at him this time as it straightened itself back up.

"You've to answer my question first. Answer it fully and honestly without any games. Then I give you my answer."

"I don't know how to get you out of here. So you cannot ask me anything about that." Was warned and he could only thank all the stars that he didn't.

"I promise. I will not use my question to ask a way to escape. Or about how to harm anybody. You have my solemn word."

"Swear it by your true name." He'd seen Marissa hold fae to their word this way before, often to force them to leave the village.

He knew how it hand to done.

"I swear by my True Name."

...That...that was surprisingly easy?

"Then you have my word."

"Do you swear that by your true name?"

The point of no return.

"I do."

"Then tell me...what is that exactly?"

His blood turned to ice.

"What is what?" He hemmed.

"Oh, I think you know exactly what I'm asking for here. And I think you know the repercussions if you don't give it to me."

What he thought is that he might have just walked into a horrible trap.

 The inhuman howl, warped by a throat burned by poison, sounded out through the night, echoing into it over and over.

The grain's were counted and the hunt was back on.

Marissa gritted her teeth as she stood firm, staring at the door.

She refused to jump as claws broke through it, just as she refused to jump when it was ripped off of it's hinges entirely.

Instead she stared the transformed beast that ripped it off down.

Even as it charged.

She should have known not to charge.

The mortal did not seem to fear her.

She stood resolute, firm, not even flinching as she made her way through the house.

In hindsight, she blamed the rowan. The rowan, forced upon her, making it feel like her very insides were falling to pieces.

That's why she made the mistake.

That's why she was not more careful.

That's how the mortal was able to trap her.

Something that would not happen again, once she got out.

That's what she told herself, as the years trapped in the hunter's cabin ticked on by.

She would get her chance eventually. This would not last.

Especially not know, when she could sense others coming near her door.

A fae and a mortal, but it was not Marissa and her new Thundercracker, a pitiful excuse of a fae who followed the mortal around like a dog. With a dog too, at that.

No. Even they had not visited her for quite some time and now was no exception.

These people were new.

And they would be her salvation.

 Just as thought, the trap had proven to be Marissa's salvation.

The deed was done.

Screaming and howling and shrieking the thing banged and clawed and flung against the barrier, no matter how many times it was pushed back by it.

“Didn’t think you could outwit me, did you Alice? You’re in my home now.”

The sounds only intensified in response to that and Marissa skirted around the barrier as they did, clutching her ears as she made her way back outside the house.

Careful eyes on it the entire time, just in case.

And then, once cleared of it, she let out a weary sigh, as she kept on walking.

Villagers were exiting their houses now, seemingly having picked up on the fight now been ended and edging closer and closer towards her.

Villagers who were now safe.

Because it was over.

Another fae crisis averted.

…For now, at least.

Something else would eventually pop up. The fae always did.

And then it would be something else after that.

On and on until one day she didn’t win.

But today wasn’t that day.

Today, was a day of victory.

Humans had triumphed over the evil haunting their town.

Humans had won.

Something, as she was headed off towards the village doctor, to be immensely thankful for.

 "Thank you for your co-operation Doctor Sumdac. I think we're going to have a nice arrangement, you and I, going forth. Don't you?"

[constellations-and-energy]

I’m a trans husband who loves his trans wife. Quake in your boots ye foul, dusty, phallus hating, vulva equating terfs. You are not invited to my fabulous witchy themed wedding where there will be cakes and fae and elementals and pretty things. Oh and dragons! Meg, you are invited but you must bring an invisible blender. My lady’s orders of course. 💜

Oh hell yeah!!! I can find that I’m sure

[iturbide]

bruh now im curious about how exactly that other anon got Grima and Chrom EX to be so buddy buddy, like. What were they thinking. What were THOSE two thinking when they got the news? Did that person just, like, shove em in a get along shirt and send them out on the battlefield? Get fed up with the constant tension from the Awakening side and stuck em together with orders to work it out? Did Chrom EX stumble across Grima being a disney princess and have a shoujo 'maybe he's not so bad' moment?

I don’t know about them – they clearly have a different set of headcanons than I do, which is great! I love how open the game is to everyone’s different ways of playing and their different ideas – but personally I don’t think it’s that crazy to think that Chrom and Grima might end up becoming if not the best of friends, then at least close enough to trust and support one another in combat and share civil (and maybe even pleasant) conversations outside it. 

Again, with the understanding that this is all from my own gameplay and headcanons, (I actually have M!Robin, Exalted Chrom, and Grima on the same team in the Arena at present and they work great together), Chrom is understandably deeply concerned when he hears that Grima is hanging around in the castle.  Grima, who Robin gave his life to defeat.  It’s shocking the first time he sees the figure who looks like Robin stalking along at Kiran’s side, violet flames licking at his boots – worse when he sees those eyes, the color all wrong, narrowing in wary distrust when he approaches.  It’s obvious that this is the fell dragon – perhaps not the one he and Robin faced in their world, but one like him, inhabiting another Robin’s body…and he can’t help but search for the kind, thoughtful person that must have been in there, once, and might still remain. 

It makes Grima uncomfortable.  That longing, searching look.  Worse is the way it makes the presence in the back of his mind feel, the crushing remorse that spills over the fell dragon as those deep blue eyes search for the tactician who no longer has any power over this body.  But he endures, turning aside while the Summoner speaks with the newest iteration of Naga’s Branded line.  And he says nothing when Kiran finally turns, departing silently at their side. 

The early days are nerve-wracking for Chrom as he settles into things in the Order.  Lucina and Robin show him around, of course, explain how things work…but while Chrom goes through the introductory training that every member receives before deployment, Robin is often tasked with duties in the Arena and elsewhere, as Kiran depends on the tactician’s aid.  The first morning that Chrom sees Robin prepare to enter combat alongside Grima, while the prince must remain behind…a part of him is deeply afraid of what might befall the tactician.  Grima might hurt him, try to strike him down or extend his influence – or just as foul, allow Robin to take a blow and do nothing to intervene.  

The tactician’s safe return does nothing to ease his mind.  It’s no secret that he’s stressed: Robin knows him well enough to recognize Chrom’s tension, that particular stony silence that hints at his struggles, the pensive look he gets as dark thoughts gnaw at his mind.  They talk, and Chrom begs to know how Robin can trust the fell dragon like that, after what happened in their world.  To which the tactician explains, as best he can, that Grima is not quite what they thought.  He doesn’t share everything – he doesn’t feel it’s his place to repeat things that he and the dragon have discussed in confidence – but he explains what he can.  He points out things Chrom never would have expected to see from the Wings of Despair (looking after dragon children, feigning fear when Fae tries to startle him, protecting the Summoner)…and as the prince’s opinion begins to shift, enough to at least be willing to talk and listen, Robin and Kiran arrange for the two to meet. 

Grima is not unwilling to discuss.  And with the assurance from both Summoner and tactician that he will be heard and not spoken over, he agrees – in part for the presence that remains a part of him, that still suffers such guilt…and in part for himself, to begin striving for understanding (for he does not expect that he will be forgiven for his actions in another world: he can only strive to atone as best he can).  He speaks of the life he led, of the abuse he suffered at human hands, of being used for his power and discarded when his usefulness had been outlived or reviled when he could not answer an unreasonable request, of having everything he cared for stripped away by those who saw him as nothing more than a monster, until all he had left was pain and anger at humanity for their mistreatment.  And while the tactician cannot speak for himself, Grima speaks on his behalf, conveying the story of the man who now only shares this body: how he was manipulated into killing the man he loved by Validar’s magic, and how his grief and rage overcame his reason just long enough for him to agree when Grima offered him power enough to make Validar suffer for what he’d forced Robin to do. 

No, it does not make anything right.  But it does help Chrom to understand.  And Chrom has always been a good man, open and earnest and understanding.  He recognizes the suffering they have endured.  And he realizes that there is nothing to be gained from treating Grima with further distrust, to judge him for mistakes he has made and clearly seeks to avoid making a second time.  He thanks Grima for speaking with him.  And from there on, he begins to treat the fell dragon much as he would one of his own Shepherds: greeting him with a smile and a kind word, asking after his health and how he’s been since they last met, congratulating him for hard-earned victories and ensuring that his wounds are looked after. 

Grima pulls Robin aside after a day of this and asks him very seriously if he put his husband up to this.  Robin promises that he didn’t, this is just…Chrom being Chrom.  Which the presence in Grima’s mind has to admit sounds reasonable, just knowing the prince. 

But it’s actually quite effective in getting Grima to warm up to him.  He’s still not used to this whole ‘having friends’ thing, but he is learning to appreciate them.  Once Chrom starts joining Robin and Grima in the Arena, that trust only grows deeper: he learns that he can rely on the fell dragon to aid him and Robin both, and the strategies they can employ are quite striking.  They even start liking each other, enough to look forward to the next challenge they’ll face together.  No, they might never be the best of friends, but they can depend on one another, talk to each other, and know that in a tight situation the other will be there to help.