#my safe place is being turned into a battlefield and I am not a soldier | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nyrasvoid · 4 months ago

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In the Heat of Battle ⚔︎

♡︎ Gwayne Hightower x Fem!Reader

𖤓 Summary: Lady Caswell defies her family to become a healer in the war of the Stepstones. Amid the violence, she forms a bond with Ser Gwayne Hightower.

⚝ Warnings: violence, sexual assault attempt (nothing happens), includes themes of war and injury and explicit sexual content

♜ Things you should know: reader is from a minor house of the Reach (House Caswell), when the news of war are spread the ladies are given the choice to serve as healers. Reader prefers to serve as a healer in the battle camps than becoming a septa or marrying.

⚝ A/N: this is a bit like the relationship between Robb stark and his wife in GOT, just a reminder that my requests are open 😊

- Word count: 6k words (ik I went a bit crazy this time)

The hall of your family’s keep is quieter than usual, though tension hangs in the air.

You sit at the long table, your hands resting om your lap, trying to keep calm as your mother and father exchange worried glances from across the room. The fireplace is the only sound that fills the room. Your sisters sit nearby, their faces show their concern, while your two brothers stand at the back of the room.

You know why you’re all gathered here. It’s a conversation that’s been pending for weeks, ever since news of the war of the Stepstones reached your lands. You and the rest of the ladies were given a choice, but it’s clear that your family doesn’t see it as one.

Your father clears his throat, breaking the silence. "My daughter, you are the youngest of House Caswell. You must understand the choices before you. There are...expectations. It is time to think of your future."

Your mother nods. "We’ve spoken of this before. You could marry, my dearest. There are lords who would gladly take a girl like you. Or, if marriage isn’t your path, the septas will gladly take you in."

You’ve heard this all before. Marriage or the Faith. Those are the only options anyone sees for you. But they don’t understand. You don’t want to spend your life praying in a sept or playing the dutiful wife. You want something else.

“I don’t want to be a septa,” you say firmly. “And I have no interest in marriage, not right now. The war… they need healers. I can help.”

Your father’s brows furrow. He sits back in his chair, eyeing you with a mix of disbelief and frustration. "The battlefield is no place for a woman, especially not a daughter of mine."

“I agree,” your sister, Melissa, interrupts from across the table. She’s always been the dutiful one, her nose always buried in the books of history. “The gods have plans for us. You could do good in the Faith, sister. Don’t let the horrors of war tempt you from a safer path.”

“Safe?” You scoff. “The Faith doesn’t call to me, Melissa. I’m not like you. I do not hear the call of the Seven like you do.” You look at your sister. “I want to do something that matters, to help people. People who are suffering because of this war.”

“Being a septa helps people,” she tries to convince you, “you’d bring the Light of the Seven to those in need.”

“But that is not what I wish for,” you insist, “I want to help with my hands. Healing those who are wounded. Saving lives.”

Your older brother, Ser Arthur, steps forward, his voice firm. “Do you know what you’re asking for, sister? You’ve never seen war. It’s not some grand adventure. It’s blood and death, and it will haunt you long after the fighting is over.” He pauses briefly. “If you think healing will spare you from that, you’re wrong.”

Your younger brother, Theo, who’s barely old enough to hold a sword, speaks up, his voice shaky. “He’s right. I’ve heard the stories from the soldiers who’ve returned. The screams, the smells. The battlefield is no place for a lady.”

You turn to them. “I am not asking for a knight’s life. I know what war is. I’m not foolish.” You glance between your siblings and your parents. “But I will not stand by while men die if I can do something about it, let me help. It is my choice.”

Your father slams his hand down on the table, startling everyone. “And what of your duties to this house? You think you can just abandon them, throw yourself into the mud and blood of battle?”

Your mother’s eyes fill up with unshed tears, and she whispers, “You’re our daughter, sweetling. We just want you safe.”

You swallow hard, trying to fight back the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. “I know you want what’s best for me. But I need to do this. Not because I want to run away from my duties, but because I want to make a difference. If I can save even one life out there, then that’s worth it to me.”

Melissa stands up, coming closer to you and resting her hand on your shoulder. “Please, sister. You’re smarter than this. You don’t have to go looking for death. The gods have other plans for you, if you’ll just listen.”

You turn to her, “I love you, Melissa. But I can’t live my life praying every single day, locked up in a sept.”

Everyone turns quiet, you could only hear your mother’s sobs and the fireplace.

Finally, it is your father who breaks the silence, his voice rough. “If this is truly what you want…” He shakes his head, sighing. “Then go. Serve as a healer. But do not say I didn’t warn you.”

You meet his gaze, nodding. “Thank you.”

Melissa looks like she wants to keep trying to convince you, but she just sighs in defeat. “May the gods protect you, sister.”

Arthur steps forward, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I hope you know what you’re doing”

“So do I,” you murmur, though you know this is the path you must follow, you still have some doubts in your mind.

As you rise from your seat and begin to make your way out of the hall, you feel the guilt of not listening to them, but you’ve made your choice. The battlefield may not be a place for most women, but you are not most women.

You will go, and you will help. No matter what anyone else says.

The morning you leave for the war, the sky is heavy with clouds, as if the gods were trying to tell you it was the wrong path. Your family stands around you, silent in disappointment.

Your mother is the first to approach you. She takes your hand, into hers. Her eyes are still red from the tears she shed last night. "Please, my dearest, be careful," she whispers, her voice cracking. "I know you think this is the right choice, but I can’t bear to lose you. You’re still my little girl."

You feel a bit of guilt but gently squeezed her hand in return. "I’ll be careful, mother. I promise. I’ll write whenever I can."

Your father stands a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest. He hasn’t spoken to you since you made your choice.

"My daughter," he says, "If you find that this is too much, if you wish to come home, there will always be a place for you here."

You nod. "Thank you, Father. But I won’t be coming home until I’ve fulfilled my duty."

Your sister Melissa approaches next, she’s spent the entire night in prayer. "I will pray for you every day," she says softly. "May the gods guide you and keep you safe."

You smile at her, grateful for her words even if you no longer share her faith in the Seven. "Thank you, sister. But I will be relying on my own hands to keep me safe."

Arthur steps forward as he pulls you into a firm embrace. He doesn’t speak, but the hug says enough. "You’re braver than I thought," he says. "I just hope you know what you’re getting into."

"I do," you reply, meeting his gaze. "and I will come back, brother. Do not worry."

Your younger brother Theo, looks up at you with sadness in his eyes. "If I were old enough," he murmurs, "I would be going with you."

You ruffle his hair, "Well, I am glad you’re not. Stay here, and keep the family safe for me, all right?"

His smile turns into a pout, but he nods, "Fine," he mumbles. "But you better come back in one piece so we can play like we do."

You give him a small smile, although you want to do this, you do not like the idea of leaving your family behind. “I will come back in one piece, I promise.”

With one last glance at your family, you get on the back the carriage. You know this journey will change you. There’s no denying that. But you also know you’ve made the right choice.

As you ride away, the gates of your family’s keep slowly close behind you, and the view of your home begins to fade.

Your journey to the Stepstones begins, it is a long trip, longer than you expected, and after just a few hours on the ship, you’ve already had enough of the sea.

It’s uncomfortable, and filled with rough men, mercenaries, and knights—making their way to the battle in the Stepstones. Among them, you are one of the very few women, and the looks you get remind you of it.

But you are not alone. On the second day of the journey, you meet Lysa, a fellow healer, although her skills lean more towards battlefield survival and self-defense. She is very brave and before long, the two of you find yourselves sticking together, watching each other’s backs.

One evening, you and Lysa sit on the deck, talking about your families and why you both chose to leave them behind for war.

“So,” Lysa says, “you chose to be a healer instead of a septa. I have to say, I would have done the same, given the choice.”

You smile at her. “I couldn’t bear the idea of spending my life in a sept. Too quiet, too… restricting.”

Lysa laughs. “I get it. I couldn’t stand being tied down either. I’d rather be out here, risking my life, than sitting at home waiting for a husband.”

As you share stories, the bond between you strengthens. You find that you trust her in a way you’ve trusted few people in your life. It’s comforting to have a friend, especially on a ship full of strange and dangerous men.

But not everyone aboard the ship is as decent as Lysa.

That same night, as you make your way to your shared quarters, a man blocks your way. He’s an older knight, his face scarred, his breath stinking of ale.

“Now what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” he slurs, leaning in too close.

You step back in disgust. “I am a healer, here to tend to the wounded. Nothing more.”

The man chuckles, his eyes roaming over your body. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be doing plenty more. A pretty girl like you… I’m sure the men will find other uses for you.”

You feel sick to your stomach at his words. “I’d rather be eaten by sharks than entertain men like you.”

The man’s smile fades, “You ought to watch your tongue, girl. Do not forget your place.”

“Trust me,” you say loud enough for the surrounding men to hear, “I know my place. It is not in your bed, and certainly not besides a man who reeks like a wet dog.”

You can hear the laughter from the other men around, and the knight’s face flushes with embarrassment. You ignore his presence and go inside your shared quarters.

Lysa claps you on the shoulder when you reach her, smiling widely. “That was brilliant,” she says. “You put that dog in his place.”

You shrug, “I just hope he takes the hint.”

Unfortunately, the old knight doesn’t. Later that night, while you’re asleep, you hear footsteps in the darkness. Before you can react, a rough hand covers your mouth. Your heart pounds in your chest as you struggle to break free, kicking around as hard as you could.

But before the man can do anything more, he’s pulled away from you, and you hear a familiar voice. “Get your filthy hands off her, or I will slice your throat myself.”

The man growls, but Lysa doesn’t back down, she presses the knife to his neck and slightly cuts it.

“You’ve got some nerve,” Lysa whispers, standing over him. “Try something like that again, and I’ll throw you overboard.”

The knight, humiliated and angry, mutters something under his breath before retreating back into the shadows.

“Are you all right?” she asks, turning to you.

You nod shakily, your heart still racing. “Thanks to you.”

She sits down beside you, her expression softening. “Us women have to stick together out here. There aren’t many people you can trust on a ship like this.”

You take her hand, squeezing it. “I won’t forget it.”

The rest of the journey passes with fewer incidents, though the tension never quite leaves. You and Lysa keep a careful eye on each other, making sure that no one else tries anything again. When the ship finally reaches the Stepstones, you’re relieved to set foot on solid ground.

When you arrive at the healers’ tent, you’re greeted not by the woman you were expecting but by an old maester. He introduces himself as Maester Aegred, and though he is kind, you could see the surprise in his eyes the moment he saw you.

“You’re the healer?” he asks, raising his brow slightly.

“I am,” you reply, straightening your back, “Lady Caswell, sent by my family to serve here.”

Maester Aegred nods slowly, though he seems uncertain. “You’re one of the only women in this camp, I’m afraid. It will not be easy for you.”

“I’m not here because I thought it would be easy,” you say firmly. “I’m here because I want to help.”

The maester gives you a small approving nod. “Very well. Welcome to the Stepstones, Lady Caswell.”

He gives hands you a basket filled with herbs and bandages. “You’ll be starting with the fevered men,” he says, “Boil these herbs for teas, and keep their wounds clean. Watch for signs of infection.”

You get to work without hesitation, the first man you attend looks barely conscious, his face wet with sweat. You dip a cloth into cool water, before placing it gently on his forehead.

“There now,” you whisper, “Rest easy. I’m here to help.”

You prepare the herbal tea as the maester instructed, bringing the it to his lips. He barely sips it, but you��re persistent, bringing him to drink more. His skin is hot to the touch, and you pray the fever will break soon.

As you continue tending to the soldiers, the hours pass by. There’s little time for anything else besides cleaning wounds, applying creams, and offering them tea.

Days pass like this—hard work from dawn until dusk. You grow more accustomed to the sight of blood. Your hands become more skilled.

One afternoon, after days of dealing with nothing but fever and infection, you’re called to tend to a knight who’s been brought in from the front lines. His armor is dented, and his face is pale beneath a layer of blood. His men carry him into the maester’s tent.

“Bring water!” the maestro yells at one of the younger healers before turning to you. “Caswell, I need you over here!”

You rush to his side and assess the knight’s condition. His leg is badly wounded, a deep cut through the muscle. Blood keeps coming through the wrapped bandage.

“I’ll need to clean this and stitch it closed,” you say. The sight of such a severe injury would have once made your stomach turn, but now, you see only the work that needs to be done.

The knight’s eyes flutter open as you begin to work, and he lets out a low groan of pain.

“You’re… the healer?” he rasps, his voice rough from pain and exhaustion.

“Yes,” you reply, your voice calm as you clean the wound. “Stay still, and I’ll cure this soon.”

He’s in pain but does his best to remain still. “Not what I expected,” he murmurs, a hint of amusement in his tone despite the situation.

“And what were you expecting?” you ask, keeping your focus on his leg.

“An ugly old maester with cold hands,” he says gritting his teeth. “Not… someone like you.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” you say in amusement.

He lets out a weak laugh before groaning in pain. “I’m not disappointed… just surprised.”

“You’re lucky to still be alive,” you say as you finish cleaning the wound. “The cut was deep. If you hadn’t been brought in when you were…”

The knight nods weakly. “Thank you… for saving my life.”

“I haven’t saved it yet,” you reply, threading your needle. “This will hurt, but it needs to be done.”

He grits his teeth and nods again, preparing himself for the pain. You work as quickly as you can, stitching the wound closed. Despite his discomfort, the knight bears, only grunting occasionally.

Once you finish, you sit back, wiping the sweat off your face. “There you go. It should heal well if you keep off it and give it time.”

The knight exhales, “Thank you… Lady—?”

“Caswell,” you say simply, not offering your full name. There’s no need for it here.

His brow lifts as if trying to place your family name, and you see the moment he realizes that your house is one of little significance. “Ah,” he says simply, “a Reach girl, then. Far from home.”

“I go where I’m needed,” you reply “as do most of us who serve.” You pause before you realize that you still don’t know his name. “And you are?”

“Ser Gwayne Hightower,” he says, giving you a small smile. “Of Oldtown.”

You pause at the name. You’ve heard of him before, of course—who hasn’t? The eldest son of Otto Hightower, the hand of the King.

You nod, standing up to gather your supplies. “Rest, Ser Gwayne. You’ll need your strength.”

As you turn to leave, he calls after you. “Lady Caswell?”

You pause, turning around. “Yes?”

“Will I… see you again?”

You can’t help but slightly smile at the question. “Only if you’re foolish enough to get yourself injured again.”

With that, you leave the tent, though his words linger in your mind.

The days pass on, and Ser Gwayne Hightower stays in the maester’s tent, recovering from his wounds. Despite the chaos and demands of the camp, you find yourself drawn to him more often than you’d expected. Every time you pass his bed to check on other patients, his eyes follow you. Sometimes, he even offers a tired smile.

You tell yourself it’s nothing. Just another soldier in need of care. But there’s something about him that keeps him in your mind.

One morning, as you tend to another patient, you hear his familiar voice call out from across the tent. "Lady Caswell!"

You sigh, trying to focus on the soldier’s arm, but Ser Gwayne does not give up.

“Lady Caswell,” he says again, this time louder, "I am dying of boredom over here. Come and put me out of my misery."

You finish your task, shaking your head, but you can’t help but smile. This has become routine, Ser Gwayne calling for you whenever you pass by, always with some comment or complaint. You try not to encourage him, but the man is relentless.

As you approach his bed, you find him sitting up on the bed, looking far better than he did when he first arrived. The color has returned to his face, and his leg, still bandaged, seems to be healing well.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” you ask, crossing your arms as you look down at him.

He shrugs. “Resting is boring. I’ve been staring at the ceiling for days now. I think I’m going mad.”

“And what would you have me do about it?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Talk to me,” he replies, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re the only one in this place with anything interesting to say.”

You roll your eyes, but the truth is, you like speaking with him. “And what exactly do you think is so interesting about me?”

He leans back against his pillow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “For one, you’re the only woman I’ve met who’d rather patch up wounds than sit in some lord’s castle or pray to the gods.”

You tilt your head slightly, furrowing your eyebrows. “Is that your way of saying I’m strange?”

His smile widens. “Strange? No. Unusual, perhaps. A good kind of unusual.”

You suppress a laugh. Despite his status, he doesn’t seem to carry the same arrogance as some of the other knights you’ve tended. Still, you remind yourself why you’re here. You’re a healer, not some maiden looking for a knight’s attention.

“Well,” you say, “I’m here to heal wounds, not provide entertainment. If you’re well enough to chat, perhaps you should be focusing on getting better so you can leave the tent.”

“Leave?” Gwayne looks offended. “And abandon the finest healer in all the Seven Kingdoms? Never.”

You smirk. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Ser Gwayne.”

He chuckles but falls silent as you reach for the bandages around his leg. Carefully, you peel the cloth to examine the stitches. The wound looks clean—no signs of infection, and the stitches are holding well.

“You’ve been keeping your leg high, I hope?” you ask, meeting his gaze.

Gwayne nods, “Mostly.”

“Mostly?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugs, “A man can’t lie around forever. I’ve been getting up—only for a short walk around the tent, of course.”

You sigh, “You’ll undo all my hard work if you push yourself too soon.”

“Aye, but how else am I to win your favor?” he teases.

You shake your head, standing up. “You’d better focus on getting well before you concern yourself with winning anything.”

As you turn to leave, he calls after you again, this time more serious. “My lady.”

You pause but don’t turn around. “Yes?”

His voice is softer this time. “Thank you. Truly.”

You nod once before continuing on your way, trying to push the thought of him from your mind. You don’t have time for distractions, not with so many lives depending on you.

Over the next few days, Ser Gwayne’s persistence doesn’t fade. Every time you pass his bed, he finds some excuse to speak with you, to ask you how your day is. You try to remain professional, to keep your distance, but it becomes harder and harder to ignore the way his presence makes your heart skip a beat, even if only for a moment.

One evening, you find yourself alone for the first time in what feels like weeks. You’re sitting outside the maester’s tent, the cool breeze making you feel relieved at least for a moment. For a second, you allow yourself to close your eyes and breathe.

But, as if summoned by your thoughts, Gwayne appears, limping slightly as he approaches. “Lady Caswell,” he greets you.

You open your eyes and look up at him, surprised to see him outside of the tent. “You shouldn’t be walking,” you say.

He lowers himself onto the ground beside you, groaning as he does. “I needed some air,” he says quietly. “And I think you could use some company.”

You sit beside Ser Gwayne in the quiet of the night.

“You know,” Gwayne begins, his voice soft, “this is the longest conversation I’ve had in a while that didn’t revolve around injuries or strategy.”

You chuckle lightly. “I can imagine. It’s not easy finding moments of peace in a place like this.”

Gwayne nods. “I’ve been thinking about what you said before. About how you came here to make a difference.”

“Yeah?” you reply, looking at him.

Gwayne meets your eyes, “You’re doing more than most of us, you know. You’re saving lives, giving hope.”

You blush slightly, “It’s not always easy. Sometimes I wonder if I’m making any real difference.”

“You are,” he insists, reaching out to gently touch your hand. “I see it. I’ve seen the way you care for everyone, how you give everything you have.”

You feel a shiver at his touch, the warmth of his hand against yours.

Gwayne leans closer, his eyes searching yours. “I know this isn’t the place for… this,” he says softly, “but I needed to tell you how much I admire what you’re doing. And how much I appreciate you.”

Before you can say more, he gently closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours. You respond, feeling the passion and longing in the moment.

But as the kiss deepens, a wave of realization hits you. This isn’t the time, and it’s certainly not the place for such feelings to complicate matters. You pull back gently, your breath quick.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, standing up. “We shouldn’t… We’re both here for important reasons, and this—” you gesture between you, “—isn’t right.”

Gwayne looks at you with understanding, his expression a mix of regret and affection. “I understand,” he says quietly. “It was a mistake.”

“No,” you correct him, “not a mistake. Just not the right time. We both have too much to focus on right now.”

He nods, his eyes filled with warmth and a touch of sadness. “Goodnight, Lady Caswell.”

“Goodnight, Ser Gwayne,” you reply, offering him a soft smile before turning away.

As you walk back to your tent, your mind is a whirl of emotions. The kiss was a moment of connection, but the reality of your situation settles in. You need to stay focused on your duties and not let personal feelings distract you from the important work ahead.

The next morning you found Lysa outside the tent, sitting on a barrel.

“You know,” she said as you sat down besides her, “I’ve seen the way that knight looks at you.”

You sigh, not in the mood for this conversation. “He’s recovering, Lysa. His mind is clouded with fever and pain. He probably doesn’t even know what he’s saying.”

Lysa chuckled, shaking her head. “No, his fever broke days ago. Trust me, that man knows exactly what he’s saying.”

You glance at her. “It’s nothing.”

“Is it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I see the way you talk to him. You like him.”

You roll your eyes, “Lysa, I didn’t come here for this.”

“Maybe not,” she said, leaning back, her gaze shifting to the distant horizon, “but sometimes life gives you things you didn’t expect.”

You and Lysa were still talking near the tent when the distant thud of footsteps reached your ears. The sound wasn’t normal. It was too loud, too fast. Then, the shouting started.

“Attack!” someone yelled from the other side of the camp.

Soldiers were rushing to grab their weapons as a group of enemy soldiers burst through the camp, moving with terrifying speed.

You turned to Lysa. “We need to get the wounded out of here, now!”

Together, you rushed into the tent where the injured men lay, Ser Gwayne among them. He was awake but clearly in no condition to fight.

“What’s happening?” Ser Gwayne asked, struggling to sit up.

“The camp is under attack,” you replied quickly, moving to help another soldier out of his bed. “We need to move everyone before the raiders get here.”

Ser Gwayne tried to get up, but his leg gave out, and he collapsed back onto the bed. You hurried over to him, “You’re coming with us. No fighting.”

He frowned but didn’t argue.

More healthy soldiers rushed into the tent, and together, you began lifting the wounded onto a cart that had been brought to the entrance. You worked quickly, heart pounding, as the sounds of the attack grew closer.

One of the soldiers, helped you carry Ser Gwayne onto the back of the cart. “Let’s get them out of here!” he shouted.

The man climbed onto the driver’s seat, grabbing the reins of the horses. You and Lysa jumped up on the cart sitting with the wounded.

The horses raced forward, pulling the cart through the camp. You could see the flames now, the camp had been set on fire.

The wounded moaned and shifted with every bump, but there was no time to stop.

“We’re almost there,” the man muttered, his eyes scanning the horizon. You could see the cliffs that bordered the camp, and just beneath them, the mouth of the cave you had mentioned earlier.

The cave was deep enough to hide in, and for now, it was your only chance of getting everyone to safety.

As you neared the entrance, one of the soldiers riding beside the cart let out a sharp scream. You turned to see him clutching his side, an arrow protruding from between his ribs. He fell off his horse, but you couldn’t stop.

“No!” Lysa screamed in disbelief.

“We need to hurry!” you yelled, gripping the edge of the cart.

With a final burst of speed, the cart entered the cave’s mouth.

“We made it,” Lysa breathed, her voice trembling with relief.

You jumped down from the cart to help unload the wounded. The soldiers who had made it into the cave with you began pulling the injured men off the cart, laying them down on the cool stone floor. Ser Gwayne was the last one off, his face pale.

“Thank you,” he said quietly as you helped him to his feet.

“You can thank me when we’re safe,” you replied. Outside, you could hear the distant sounds of fighting in the camp, but for now, the cave was safe.

“We need to stay quiet,” Lysa whispered, moving to stand beside you. “If they find us here…”

“They won’t,” you said. You turned to Ser Gwayne, who was leaning against the cave wall. “How’s your leg?”

“I’ll manage,” he replied through gritted teeth. “But what now?”

You looked around the cave, your mind racing.

“We wait,” you said after a moment. “Just long enough for the fighting to stop. Then we move again.” See Gwayne nodded, although you could tell he wasn’t convinced.

The wounded soldiers groaned softly as they tried to make themselves comfortable on the rocky floor. Lysa sat beside one of them, her face tight with worry as she tended to their wounds.

The night dragged on, and the once distant sounds of battle now sounded closer every moment. You and Ser Gwayne sat at the back of the cave, listening to the clashing steel and the cries of men in the distance.

You stared up through the small opening at the top of the cave’s ceiling, where you could perfectly see the moon high in the sky. You glanced at Gwayne, who was leaning against the wall, his face pale and tense as he listened to the battle. His leg was stretched out in front of him, still causing him pain despite the bandages. Every now and then, you saw his hand twitch toward his sword, as though he were ready to fight again despite his injuries.

"They're not going to stop," you said softly, breaking the silence.

Gwayne looked at you, "No, they won't."

The battle was drawing closer. You had been hiding for hours, and the hope that the fighting would stop had vanished. Even if you went back, the camp would likely be destroyed, the supplies either burned or taken. There would be no help, no rescue.

"We might not make it through the night," you whispered.

Gwayne's gaze softened. He reached out and took your hand, squeezing it gently. "We might not," he agreed, his voice quiet.

“You ever think about how strange it all is?” Gwayne whispered after a moment. “One minute you’re fighting for your life, the next you’re here… staring at the moon.”

You smiled. “It is strange. But I suppose that’s life. Never quite what you expect.”

He laughed softly at that. “You’re far too calm about all of this. Most people would be panicking out of their minds.”

“Trust me, I’m frightened,” you admitted, meeting his gaze. “I just hide it well.”

He reached out, his hand brushing against yours, the touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself shifting closer to him.

“You’re something else,” he said softly, his voice low. There was an edge to his tone, something raw and unguarded.

You felt your pulse quicken. “Is that a compliment, Ser Gwayne?”

“It might be,” he replied, a teasing glint

You looked down at your joined hands. "I never thought it would end like this," you murmured, "In a cave, with nothing left but a few wounded men and no chance to save them."

Gwayne’s grip tightened. "It's not the end yet," he said, "But if it is…"

You took a deep breath, "If this is it… if this is the last night…" You said with a shaky voice, but you forced yourself to meet his eyes. "I don't want to spend it in fear."

Gwayne looked at you, he gave you a small chuckle. "You know… I've thought about that too. If we're going to die, why waste the time we have left in misery?"

You look at him, your gaze fixated on his lips "Then let's not."

Gwayne's eyes searched yours, and then, without another word, he pulled you toward him.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, filled with a need that went beyond mere desire.

He pulled you closer with his good hand. The kiss deepened, growing more desperate. You pressed yourself against him, your heart racing as his lips moved down pressing soft kisses against your neck.

He looked back up to you, “My leg’s no good for much, but I’m not about to let that stop us,” he whispered.

You smiled, “Then let me take over.”

Gently, you guided him down to the ground on his back, careful of his injured leg. He watched you with desperate eyes as you sat on top him, adjusting yourself carefully so as not to cause him pain. His hands instinctively slid to your hips, his touch firm but gentle.

Your hands rested on his chest, you could feel his heartbeat racing, matching the wild rhythm of your own. You leaned in close, pressing your lips to his with a tenderness that contrasted with the fierce urgency you both felt.

You broke the kiss for just a moment, sitting up to pull your shirt over your head. His eyes roamed over you with raw hunger, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing across your sensitive nipples.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, leaning up to press his lips against your collarbone, kissing his way down.

You gasped softly as his lips found a tender spot on your neck. Your hands moved to undo the ties at your waist, slipping out of your pants, leaving you completely bare before him.

With his help, you shifted slightly to tug his trousers down. He was already hard, his length pressing eagerly against your thigh as you settled back atop him. The tension between you both was almost unbearable as you pulled yourself up, the tip of him brushing against your wet entrance.

He groaned softly as you lowered your body and began to roll your hips against him. His hands gripped your waist tighter, helping to guide you as you moved.

“Does it hurt?” you whispered breathlessly.

He shook his head as he looked up at you. “No… it feels good. Don’t stop.”

“You’re perfect,” he breathed, his voice filled

with pleasure. He tilted his head up, capturing your lips in a kiss. Your bodies moved in sync, the sound of your panting breaths and the sounds of your bodies clashing filled the cave.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently as you kissed him harder, your hips rolling harder. You could feel yourself nearing your climax.

“Gwayne…” you gasped his name, breaking the kiss.

He groaned again, his eyes locked on yours as he thrust up into you with what strength he had,“I’m right here,” he whispered, his voice low.

That was all it took for you to come. Your body trembled as you reached your peak, your head falling back. You felt Gwayne follow moments later, his grip on you tightening as he came too, his body trembling beneath yours as he filled you.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your breaths in uneven gasps. You collapsed against his chest, your bodies still connected.

His hands moved lazily up and down your back, a gentle, reassuring touch. You lifted your head, pressing a soft kiss to his jawline.

“That… was worth it,” Gwayne murmured, his lips quirking into a tired but satisfied smile.

You chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I think so too.”

“I think I can die at peace now.” Gwayne sighed gazing at the moon.

“I think so too.” you nodded smiling at him.

Pt.2???

#gwayne fanfic #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower fanfic #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower x you #gwayne imagine #gwayne x reader #gwayne x you #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon

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n0tamused · 6 months ago

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Hiya!! I have a WuWa request, how about Reader stargazing with Jiyan and them talking about some deep topic of ur choice while stargazing? Only if you’re up for it tho! Don’t push urself. Have a good day!

A/N: Thank you for your request anon! I hope you enjoy this :)

Contents: Jiyan x GN!Reader, angst and sadness

Low calls of an owl echo over the breath of the breeze, the soft sighs of nature enveloping you in its embrace. Your head is supported by the lush grass, and Jiyan’s bicep that he insisted you lay on. His tone was low and a soft timbre compared to its commanding tone when he was performing his duties. Jiyan’s body exudes warmth and comfort, and in all the ways you needed him, he was there.

“You shouldn’t be so reckless..” He’d mutter, golden eyes dark from drinking in the serene, dark scenery up above. Little stars were freckled across the sky like little faded droplets of milk, counting up to billions of the same, yet not one less beautiful than the other.

The towering mountains sprouted from the ground so high, long rocks fingers reaching as far as possible, as if trying to grasp the fading lights and the moon itself.

“I know.. I try, Jiyan. Yet, I really can’t just stand by and watch, especially when I see you in the midst of it all, surrounded or cornered..” you respond back, quiet, not willing to disturb this serenity.

He hums, wordlessly in disagreement of your response yet he can’t bring himself to say anything in that exact moment. His mind is plagued by images of your exhausted form slumping behind a fallen tree trunk, and skin grimy with sweat and dirt.

“I know you mean well, and you are doing your best. Yet, you are not a Midnight Ranger, love, you are not a soldier. This.. battlefield is not your place to be in” Jiyan says, his gaze leaving the midnight sky and falling on you, seeing the way your nose curved and how your eyes were much darker in the absence of a lamp or a fire. “I am the General, the leader of these men, and I don’t need you to step in for me, love..”

He sees your eyes lower to stare at nothing in particular, lashes fluttering while your throat bobbed with unease. His words rang true, but you couldn’t find yourself accepting them.

“I need you alive... and I need you safe. While I can do my absolute best at shielding you while you are here, I cannot stand true to my promise to you if you’re jumping head first into hot water. Not when you do so behind my back”

“Jiyan… “ you sigh, trailing off, your lips opening and then closing as you try to pry your brain for a response that would get him to be more lenient, to see your side too.

“I know..” you say, your eyes finding his as you turn your face towards him. “I know.. I know you are doing your best, and I don’t wish to burden you with my-” “You are not a burden” “I know, Jiyan- let me talk.. please”

His lips press into a firm line and he gives you a small nod, encouraging you to keep going while his eyes apologize for cutting you off. One hand came to trace your cheek, he was almost laying on his side now.

“I don’t want to make your time more difficult, especially not when we’re in the middle of a battle. But don’t send me back to the city, please.. I can’t bear not being close to where I can see you. I am still useful here, perhaps not as a professional warrior or a soldier or a gunner, but I can help and I can learn too.. You talk about your promise to keep me safe, but what about our promise to stay alive... and with each other?”

Your question renders his thumbing of your cheeks slow before his fingers stop altogether in tracing your features, instead cupping the side of your face in his calloused palm. “I haven’t forgotten about that..'' he simply replies, the heaviness in his chest too great, making him unable to sigh to rid himself of it. Fatigue hangs heavy over your heads, but neither of you are willing to cut the conversation or this moment short.

“Don’t send me back.. There is nothing for me there..” Not without you- it goes without being said, and he feels it in his bones that he can’t argue with you on this, you’ll both remain stubborn on your stances. He knows he’ll have to put restrictions on you, to keep you safe, but until then he’ll enjoy this night of reprieve with you. The tent he sleeps in feels like a bed of nettles without you, and the way he’s comfortable laying on nothing more but this lush grass speaks volumes of that. He does not feel cold or irritated. Jiyan is at peace.

But he has to send you back, he tells himself, but not yet.. Tomorrow, or maybe the day after, until you forget about this conversation, and until the next cargo drop off comes in. Then, he’ll send you back.

“And we will be together, my love. You must be patient. You are my northern star in these dark nights, are you aware of that? The most precious person to me, one I hold within my heart itself.. I can’t afford to lose you..” he whispers to you as you watch him with pleading and loving eyes. You tip your chin up, brushing your nose against his and with that simple motion he is leaning in to grant your wordless wish, satiating your desire for closeness with a kiss to your lips.

The arm underneath your head stirs and he wraps it around his shoulders, bringing you in closer, flush against him, and you’re wrapping your arms around him and kissing him with fervor and unspoken love. Closer, closer, stay with me, don’t leave..

He holds you with such tender touches, holds you like you may fade away like sunlight before the long night, feather light touches tracing your cheeks and chin and moving towards the back of your head. He pulls away for a moment, his forehead pressing against yours as you both inhale the same air. “I love you” - it’s you who blurts it out before he gets the chance to do so, and his eyes widen with surprise. His heart drums in his chest, and he presses his lips to your again, in search of water to quell his worry, and for a forgiveness. Every note of love is interwoven in his actions, his touches and his kisses. Were the world any less cruel, it would have granted you two the eternity of this night, to forever be here and watch the skies in tranquility.

Black night covers you both in a blanket of stardust and far galaxies, bringing you safety if only but this night alone, undisturbed by monsters or people. And as Jiyan pushes himself to his elbow to loom over you, chasing your lips, a lone star flies across the vast sky, flickering out and leaving behind a silver fading tail.

Maybe.. just maybe, the universe heard your wishes.

#-better an arrow than you #Jiyan #Jiyan x reader #Jiyan x you #jiyan x yn #jiyan x gn reader #gn reader #jiyan angst #wuthering waves #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves x you #wuthering waves x yn #wuwa #wuwa x reader #wuwa x you #jiyan imagine

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fantasy-nerdddd · 6 months ago

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Coin could have made Katniss mad at Snow with less likelyhood of being exposed and without killing Prim

I was rereading Mockingjay - for the 27th time - and I had a thought. Prim's death was stupid. Coin sent a 13 year old into battle, as an untrained medic, and then dropped Gale's bomb on top of her. But that creates a huge problem. Two, to be exact.

First and foremost, why was Prim into battle? She didn't have the title of soldier. I bet she wanted to go, to keep an eye on her sister possibly or just helping out with her skills. But, it shouldn't be allowed. And District 13 is known for following the strict rules. So, that would have raised suspicion on its own.

Second, although less vital, the attack was their signature. Gale made this bomb, the concept at least. And while the Capitol could have a similar weapon, Coin certainly did. And Katniss could have known. When she learned about the weapon, she was in Special Defences right after she got released from the hospital because her choking bruises were getting better. And Coin had to have been keeping an eye on her. Especially considering how controlling she is. And she obviously knew Beetee and Gale where also there working on bombs, because it must have been in their program. Nevertheless, even out of Special Defences, Gale is supposedly Katniss' bestie. She should have known not to use a weapon of his, because there was a big chance Katniss knew about it.

If someone knew all of the above, they could have guessed that the bomb was from 13, Haymitch definitely would have. I think the fandom underestimates how much he understands what's going on. Coin, should not have killed Prim, because it could expose her intentions before she could get a grasp in control, as it did in the end. So, I can think of one way to turn Katniss against Snow.

When I said Prim wouldn't be killed, it doesn't mean no one else would. We just need to find a good enough substitute. But there isn't a big variety, if we are honest. She needed to find someone Katniss cared about, that was in the Capitol or would be reasonable to send in the Capitol, and could die because they were at the wrong place, in the wrong time.

In Mockingjay, I can't find the exact place it's said, Katniss thinks to herself "Except my mum, Prim and Gale, who else loves me unconditionally? In my case, I think it's none". Other than the criminal offence that she thinks Gale actually loves her, we need to take into account that this is said a short while after Peeta, Johanna and Annie return to 13 and Katniss and Peeta have their wholesome reunion. So, she was referring to him. And she cares. So we are adding him to the list of people Katniss cares about. Haymitch is added too, because she asked for his and only his comfort in Chapter 11, right after the bombing of District 13.

Alright, so our list consists of: Prim, Mrs Everdeen, Gale, Peeta and Haymitch. We already got Prim out of the way, and Mrs Everdeen would be a nurse too, so it would take two bombs to take her out, one to lure her into danger, and the other to blow her up. That's Gale's idea, so we cannot use her. Gale was captured by the Capitol for a bit, and even if he wasn't he is too loyal to Coin. Coin would have killed her only influence on Katniss. I am not convinced Haymitch wouldn't play it safe and hide in the shadows while drinking. And if he did, which to be fair, he would, and if we had a movie of him in the Capitol it'd be named "Finding Liquor", he would stay in a house waiting for the liquor to run out. Coin would have to bomb a entire city, but Katniss might have died in the process.

In my opinion, Peeta was the best sacrifice that could be made. He was already in the Capitol, he shouldn't be but he was. Whether he was there to kill Katniss, or a more unpopular opinion, to make Katniss kill him in fear of her life, that doesn't matter. She had already defamed herself by putting a mentally unstable Peeta in the battlefield, so she doesn't have to make it worse by sending a 13 y/o. And he was just running around ready to cause a distraction (completely irrelevant, but that his first thought was "Oh, let me go behind you so that if Katniss needs saving I can risk my life so she won't get captured" is so cute). He was just an accident away from blowing up.

But, I hear you asking, how could Coin know that Peeta meant this much to Katniss? Omg, do we have to get through this again? Finnick, chapter 11: "After your first Games, I thought the whole romance was an act on your part. We all expected you'd continue that strategy. But it wasn't until Peeta hit the forcefield and nearly died that I - that I knew I'd misjudged you. That you do love him. I'm not saying in what way. Maybe you don't know yourself. But anyone paying attention could see how much you care about him". Anyone. And if that isn't enough for you, Katniss, chapter 3: "When the war is over, if we've won, Peeta will be pardoned." *Dead silence for a while* "No form of punishment will be inflicted. The same goes for the other captured tributes, Johanna and Enobaria.". She basically said to her face "I care about him".

And I hear you saying "How would they know where he is?". Oh shit, that's a very good question. But how did they know where Prim is? How did they know that Katniss would see what happened? Or that they weren't hitting Katniss herself? Or that it was worth doing all of this, and Squad 451 wasn't dead in the sewers and eaten by the mutts? That's what I propose: Beetee found a way to hack the Capitol cameras. Plutarch was working next to Snow, he knew where the pods were. Beetee made the Capitol's TV system, that's why it took them so long to break into. But it's not unlikely either of them knew a way to hack the cameras. Or Plutarch just had people working for him that had access to the cameras.

And you know the best part? Katniss wouldn't need to see it either. If they had access to the cameras, they could just replay a video of the hovercraft dropping a bomb on Peeta. And it would break her. Just as much as it would with Prim. And Snow might have not convinced her that it was Coin. Because Coin wouldn't have sent a 13 y/o to battle, suspicious enough. And the attack wouldn't have Gale's signature. Just a hovercraft that dropped a bomb. And Snow's main argument still stands: Why wouldn't he have left with that hovercraft? But it might have been someone else's from the Capitol. Or that he knew he was doomed, that soldiers were coming from all sides, and hovercrafts were flying over his head. So he killed him, not as a last resort, but out of spite. So that Snow would have his own "If I burn, you burn with me!" moment with Katniss.

And either way, the chances of Coin being exposed would never be zero. But that's the closest I can get them to zero. And also: Peeta was basically a traitor. And I bet Coin wouldn't want to keep her promise with Katniss, to not inflict punishment if the rebels won. So his death would mean that she killed two birds with one stone.

And, in regards to literacy and symbolism, which plays a huge part in the series, his death would be as powerful as Prim's. Prim, was the person she saved from certain death, only to result in an uprising and, after some time, her death. Peeta was the person she refused to kill. Not because she was in love, not yet at least, but because she cared. Peeta was the reason this started, with the star crossed lovers strategy that got them closer, and the berries she pulled out so they both survive. They were the final two tributes of the hunger games, refusing to kill each other. And the 76th Hunger Games, as well as the Quell, were the desperate tries of the Capitol to get them to kill each other. And they refused. Again and again and again. The two tributes remaining, that were allies their whole games, can't be both Victors. They were in a rematch. And with the bomb, it's like getting out the mutts, the desparate option to kill a tribute when the final two refused to kill each other. And, just like how it was supposed to go at first, Peeta died and she lived. Like the Capitol wanted it to go. "Our lives belong to Snow and our deaths do to".

I need a fanfic with this concept. Hell, I might write one myself. Can you add anything? Either to strengthen the idea or to go against it?

Edit: Well know the fanfic is a WIP. Figures.

#everlark #the hunger games #thg #president coin #prim reaper #primrose everdeen #katniss everdeen #katniss and peeta #peeta mellark #mockingjay #mockingjay part 2 #headcanon #fan theory

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labyrinth-runner · 11 months ago

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“Where are you going? It’s not safe out there!” with obidala or obianidala?

Lol I am so sorry it took me over a year to do this one. This takes place during the Clone Wars

Word count : ~1400

Pairing: Obidala

Warnings: None

The war was raging around them, and Padmé found herself once again being pushed into some hiding place. She was so sick and tired of having to prove that she was perfectly capable of handling herself. For kriff's sake she dealt with the the trade federation when she was 14 and had been handling a blaster ever since. But no, the clones felt obligated to protect her since she was a galactic senator. She appreciated the sentiment, really she did, but her life was not worth more than theirs.

Propping herself up against the rock the clones and pushed her behind, she aimed her blaster at the droids in the coming onslaught. She picked them off one by one, but they just kept coming. The only bonus to droid soldiers was that they didn't get weary in the same way that organic soldiers did. The clones were pushing themselves too hard to hold their position, the only reason they were holding it was because of Padmé. She needed to move. They all did.

"Cover me!" she yelled, waving the clones over as she scrambled out from behind her rock, diving from shelter to shelter as she made her way up the mountainside. If they made it up high enough, they may be able to be extracted. Plus, there was something beneficial about having the high ground. Kenobi had taught her that in a completely unrelated encounter involving bed sheets and dim lights and kriff, this was not the time to be remembering that. Her face burned as she climbed higher, aiming down at the droids.

Her instincts had been correct. The squadron, smaller unfortunately than it was when they started, made it to the top of the mountain and into the path of a troop transport. The troopers on the transport provided them with enough cover to get on and away they were, zooming over the battlefield.

Padmé had a sick feeling in her stomach. She'd been too late to stop this. She'd been sent on a diplomatic mission to turn the neutral world towards the Republic, but the Separatists were there. Count Dooku in all his fake chivalry and probably with some Jedi mind tricks as well. Padmé hadn't stood a chance, barely making it out of the Duke's palace before Dooku could have her captured.

The transport rumbled, taking a direct hit. Padmé lost her footing and her hold on the rope. She found herself falling once again out of a transport. Honestly she was hoping she'd have better luck than this now with the war raging into the second year. But no, the trees below were getting closer and closer with each moment that passed. She tried to roll herself into a ball, hoping it'd protect her better, but she knew no matter what she did, the fall was going to hurt. The ground was hurtling towards her and she closed her eyes tight, bracing for impact.

It never came.

"Padmé, what are you doing here?" Obi-Wan asked, using one hand to deflect the droids around him with his blaster, his other outstretched to ease her landing.

"I thought I'd just drop in," she replied, landing on her feet. She immediately sprang into action to help cover him. "Where's the rest of your squad?"

"Solo mission. I was sent to destroy a comms tower to the west."

"No Anakin this time?" she asked, taking out the last droid.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "It wasn't anything I couldn't handle."

Padmé holstered her blaster and reached up to swipe his hair out of his face. "Long time no see."

"The Outer rim's been a mess," he admitted, leaning into her touch. "What are you doing here, though, Darling?"

"Diplomatic mission gone wrong. Dooku was here first," her voice dripped with disgust.

"That explains the heavier droid activity. Come on, they're sure to send more droids when these don't return back. My ships still a day away and without a comms tower I can't have R4 bring it here," Obi-Wan told her, taking her hand and heading further into the forest. "There's a cave not too far from here that we can shelter in for the night."

Padmé held his hand tightly. She knew that all too soon he would be slipping through her grasp once more. It was always like that these days and it killed her.

The way to the cave was rough, which was fine for her since it would mean that the droids probably wouldn't find them. They couldn't start a fire, though, for fear of drawing attention to them. Instead, they huddled together under Obi-Wan's cloak, sharing body heat.

Padmé tugged the cloak tighter around them. "I'm surprised you managed to hold onto this."

"I'm not that bad."

"Obi-Wan, you left two cloaks in my apartments within the same week. I genuinely don't know how they keep giving you new ones." Padmé chuckled, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Darling, you can be so cruel," he said, but he was smiling down at her. He inhaled the scent of spices in her hair. The scent of her shampoo was faint, but it always calmed him. She always calmed him. He kissed the top of her head. "I missed you."

She tilted her head to kiss his cheek. "The feeling is mutual. When do you come home?"

"Hopefully when this siege is over if a new one isn't started on my way home like last time," he said, shifting her so that she laid on top of him, his arms circled around her.

"I feel like I'm half a heart without you sometimes," Padmé murmured, her finger tracing his chest.

"Darling, you are my heart," he told her. He tipped her chin up, capturing her lips with his.

Padmé melted into him, her arms circling his neck to pull him closer.

And then they heard it.

The sound of tens if not a hundred droid feet marching outside the cave. Padmé was up in a moment, creeping towards the edge of the cave. Obi-Wan grabbed her arm to stop her.

"Where are you going? Darling, it’s not safe out there!” he said, trying to push her behind him. "I'll go."

"Obi-Wan, if one of us goes out there and gets caught then they'll just check the cave and find the other so we might as well go together," Padmé reasoned, holding his hand.

He sighed, giving in. "Fine, but I don't like it."

They crept silently along the wall of the cave until they could look down at the droids below. They were setting up a base. Obi-Wan grimaced. They wouldn't be able to escape once they had a full base set up. Hopefully they would be too distracted with setting up to notice them. He squeezed Padmé's hand and nodded to the other side. It was slow going, trying not to knock loose any stray rocks or attract any unwanted attention. They circled to the other side of the rocky hill before beginning their descent. Obi-Wan landed silently and gestured for Padmé to jump, catching her in his arms. They were still a ways off from his ship, and his comms weren't working. But they decided they didn't have time to stop for the night and just pushed through.

It wasn't until the early morning rays of sun were creeping higher in the sky that they saw Obi-Wan's ship. He was able to use his ship to call for a pick up for Padmé.

Padmé sighed, hearing the ship in the distance coming towards them. She gripped Obi-Wan by his cloak and pulled him in for a kiss. He kissed her back, putting into that kiss everything they couldn't say. It was longing, it was passion, it was love. It was a promise to return to each other safely.

Padmé pulled away first, her hands still in his. The ship came into view above them in the clearing. Padmé dropped his hands.

"Darling," Obi-Wan murmured.

"I know," she told him, taking a step back as the other ship landed.

"Senator! Glad to see that you're okay," Commander Cody told her. He nodded to Obi-Wan. "General."

"Commander, escort the Senator back to her ship and ensure she gets into hyperspace safely," Obi-Wan ordered.

"May the force be with you, Master Kenobi," Padmé told him, stepping onto the ship.

"And always with you, Senator Amidala."

He watched her ship for as long as he dared before getting in his own ship and returning to battle.

#obidala #obiwan kenobi #padmé amidala

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whatdoyoumeanitsnotcanon · 2 years ago

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New fic writer anon here with part 3. Dialogue is hard, right? So is exposition because it feels like it drags. Also thank you for the very kind words & support, your blog is a wonderful safe place to try new things and I am grateful.

---

You sat on one of the human-sized sofas facing the Angel. It looked plush enough to fall back into, so you perched on the edge, back perfectly straight. Kano sat nearby.

The Angel commended you for your service at Signus. He was impressed that you had not given in to madness and had done your duty just as you had on countless other battlefields. He continued, “So many in the Army and Navy lost themselves. My sons were also” – he hesitated – “affected, but that was something of a different nature. But I know you saw what I saw.”

You shuddered to think of it. You recalled men and women in other platoons and companies, who you’d fought with on so many worlds, not just losing their minds, but their bodies turning against them as they screamed, gouged out their own eyes and clawed at their throats, and somehow worst of all, the blood in their veins ran black.

You closed your eyes for a moment, then opened them. The Angel was looking at you, with kindness and sadness. “I am so sorry you and your fellows had to endure such horrors,” he said. Then, an admission. “I did not even know such things existed, or were even possible.”

“Thank you, my Lord” you whispered. You couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Do you know why you were not affected?” the Angel asked.

“I – I have no idea, my Lord,” you said, although you weren’t sure you if you were telling the truth. The Emperor protects. A mantra you’d heard before, dismissed out of hand, but then found yourself repeating over, and over, and over throughout the entire horrific battle. Did that actually work, somehow?

“You have no idea that you are a psyker?”

“What?” you exclaimed, completely forgetting yourself, then stammered, “that is…. my Lord… what? No! I don’t –”

The Angel raised a hand. “Peace,” he said gently. “I see you were not aware. I suppose that is not surprising. After all, you do not see others’ thoughts, move objects with your mind, or any of the other obvious signs, do I have that right?”

“R-right,” you stammered.

He went on. “Your abilities are more… passive. Defensive. Do you know what psychic wards are?”

“I –” you thought for a moment. “I remember hearing there are…wards… on the Imperial Palace. Placed there by the Emperor. That protect against psychic attacks.”

“Yes, that is one example. Some wards are intentionally placed. Others, I understand, may not be. You have met Kano, he was in the Librarius before the Emperor dissolved the organization. I have decided that, in light of what we’ve encountered, we require the Librarians’ skills again. Kano, can you explain what makes our young soldier unique?”

Kano first explained concepts behind the use of magic, fuelled by the Warp, which you barely grasped. You were too shaken by the idea that this had anything to do with you. Then he told you that you somehow were, or that you inherently had, a psychic shield against intrusion by these malevolent forces of the Warp. A shield that extended not only to you, but to those nearby.

“You are not a null,” Kano said. Whatever that meant. “That means that my powers are not affected by your abilities. I can see your aura, and I can hear your surface thoughts.”

Shit.

He grinned – yes, he’d heard that too – “but not to worry, I can also tell that you are unfailingly loyal to the Emperor and to our Lord Primarch.”

Kano went on, “and so, you are being reassigned. We are re-establishing the Librarius in the Legion. And we will need everyone with psychic potential, not just Astartes, to play a role in what’s to come. You will join a new special operations team, information on your assignment will follow. In the meantime, your belongings will be brought to your new quarters.”

“I think I understand,” you said. “This is… a lot… to process. But, there’s more, isn’t there?” You looked back to the Angel. None of this explained why you were here, with him.

The Primarch looked at Kano. “You may leave us. Azkaellon, you as well, please.” Azkaellon hesitated for a half-second, but then left with Kano.

And just like that, you were alone with the Great Angel. The Emperor’s son.

Blessing us as always, anon! I can't wait for the next part. I'm glad this is a safe space for you and everyone else to share your work, thoughts, and ideas!

And yeah, I feel you with the dialogue. For me, my biggest issue is writing conflict. I absolutely suck at writing it. Can conceptualize it just fine but oooof.

#sanguinius x reader #sanguinius #wh40crack.#warhammer 40k

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jungwooisms · 2 years ago

Text

hwarang | q. kun

ACT III (TEASER)

pairing: qian kun x female!reader genre: historical au, fluff, angst, supernatural members: moon taeil, nakamoto yuta, xiao dejun (xiaojun), lee donghyuck (haechan), more tba warnings: crass humor and language, blood, violence, mentions of suicide, alcohol, possessiveness, minor character death, war, some historical inaccuracies for the sake of plot progression, more tba word count: 3.9k it is important to read the prologue first to understand the context of this! i can’t link it here but it’s on my masterlist!

November 14th, 665 – Outside of Hanseong, Kingdom of Goguryeo It’s some time before the Chief receives the message and returns to the main group of Hwarang. Long enough for the news of the enemy threat to spread and causation for some to panic. Nearly fifteen hundred of the men you’d left Ungjin with desert, reducing your forces to a mere two thousand. Jaehyun and Yukhei seem only more cautious at this, both advising retreat. But Taeil decides that the Hwarang will form up for battle and fight until the bitter end.

Now that the Crown had given him direct orders, he says that there cannot be any hesitance.

“I’ll call in reinforcements from Ungjin,” Kun frowns, “One thing for sure is… We cannot afford to lose this. Make that damn clear to the reinforcements, we can’t afford to have any more deserters.”

“Of course,” Yuta nods, turning and jogging off to join the rest of the men.

After giving his directions to the last of his men, Kun looks to you.

“Go back to Ungjin with someone. This place will turn into a battlefield soon enough, and you should be somewhere safe.” The tone in his voice shows no room for you to question his call.

“I’ll stay here…” You eventually conclude, “I can’t run away to somewhere safe while everyone else is off fighting. I’ll stay here to watch over the Chief until you get back.”

Kun grimaces, “How? You can’t swing a sword to save your life, and I don’t think you’ve got the guts to kill a man. You’re not a soldier.” You’d expected him to say as much, but you’re not going to back down easily.

“It’s true that I’m not much good with a sword, but… I can still be his shield. Any small wounds I sustain will heal quickly enough.”

“Why are you doing this? No one’s asked you to,” Kun stares at you, seeing that your resolve isn’t shaken.

“I know I may be out of line when I say this, but I know that we can’t lose him. Not now.” You insist, “I’m sick and tired of always being protected, I want to help!” You’ve been with them long enough now to see how much Taeil means to Kun and the rest of the Hwarang. If you go back to Ungjin and Taeil dies… Just thinking of it makes a cold chill crawl up your spine.

Kun chews his lip thoughtfully for a moment, and his hard, piercing gaze never seems to drift away from your face. Refusing to break his concentration for a long moment, he sighs.

“If you’re really that serious about this, then I’ve got an order for you,” he crosses his arms, “As a member of the Hwarang.”

“What…?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“You’re going to guard Taeil personally. Stay by his side and give him anything he asks for.” After awaiting your baffled response he continues, “…And?”

“Yes! Sir!” Without thinking, you straighten up and nod vigorously.

“I will protect him even if it means my li—” Before you can finish, Kum cuts you off with a sharp expression.

“There’s one condition. You can’t die.” That isn’t the sort of thing you’d expect him to say. ‘Be careful’, maybe, but not ‘You can’t die’.

“And don’t do anything stupid, like being his shield, or whatever bullshit you were saying. I am not ordering you to die.” He gives you one last pointed look before turning to gaze bitterly at the walls of Hanseong in the distance.

“If our enemy this time turns out to be a bunch of amateurs who’re just hoping to kiss some ass with their king, we might have a chance,” he muses. “If it’s not… That’ll be a different story. I’ll try and get back as fast as I can, but if something happens before I do, I’m counting on you and Yuta to make sure Taeil gets away clean.” Kun then looks back to you, “And none of this shield shit. You escape with him. Die, and I’ll make sure you regret it. Understood?”

You feel a cold sweat on your back as his words sink their way into your skin. You’d seen others fight for their lives in battle many times, but this is the first that you’d actually be joining. Will you really be able to protect Taeil? Will it even be possible to evade your enemies, let Taeil escape and survive?

Perhaps Kun notices your sudden fear as he lets out a short, bitter laugh, “Hey. Take out your sword.”

“Huh?” You ask, stunned for a moment by the strangeness of his request before complying and unsheathing your blade from its scabbard.

Kun then moves to swiftly remove his from his hip, taking his steel and tapping it against your own. The clear tone they make draws goosebumps from your arms.

“The third rule of O Gye is to trust your friends and treat them sincerely…”

“O- Oh…” You furrow your brow. The O Gye is the set of principles that the Hwarang have followed since their inception, why is he…

“You’re a Hwarang now… Well,” he chuckles, “I suppose you’d be a Wonhwa, wouldn’t you? Regardless, this is proof.”

“Proof of what?” You ask as he smiles gently at you.

“That I’ll come back, that you can trust that I will return and that I can trust that you’ll survive too.” He lowers his blade, slipping it back into his sheath, “So you believe me, and you wait. And don’t die.” His words are confident, and listening to him, you feel as if they somehow have bolstered your spirit tenfold.

As someone who prides himself on being a Hwarang, you know these words, the O Gye, mean a great deal to him. You have to follow through, you can’t break this newly formed promise with him.

“I understand,” you nod, “I will protect the Chief and I will survive.”

November 27th, 665 – Outside of Hanseong, Kingdom of Goguryeo Slowly, the Hwarang find themselves driven into a stalemate. Taeil had done his best to try and tell the men they were to slowly siege the city, to draw them out and have them surrender on their own terms to protect the area around Hanseong from becoming bloodied with battle. Unfortunately, one of the new recruits had cried out that he was a Hwarang and slain a Goguryeo soldier.

That was the spark that set the pile ablaze. The bulk of the opponent’s forces turned out to be men who’d come from the hardened battle lines of Goguryeo’s northern fronts, meaning they’d been in near constant battle with the Tang for years. It quickly becomes stalemated as the days progress. Taeil has no choice now but to retreat until forces from Ungjin arrive.

“We have to go!” You cry out as Taeil emerges from his tent, “If we don’t, you’ll be killed if Goguryeo breaks through our lines!”

“My men are still fighting out there!” He states firmly, “I cannot run away and leave them, I will not leave them behind!”

“Even if we lose this battle now, we have reinforcements coming later, and as long as you’re safe, there’s still hope for the Hwarang—” You insist as you walk with him, “We can regroup and fight back later!” You reach for his hand, pulling him as hard as you can toward the path away from the city.

Taeil looks across the battlefield at his men, hopelessly entrenched in lines that will never break or push through. The smell of death from both allied and enemy corpses stings your noses. Looking at him, you can see tears well up in the corners of his eyes. He lowers his gaze, murmuring something as Yuta returns from the front lines.

Yuta’s steely expression is colored by streaks of mud and grit from the battlefield, “Are you prepared to leave?” He notes the bags around your and Taeil’s backs, “Good. Let’s go.”

“Let’s go quickly…” You say, urging Taeil forward.

“Right…” He sighs out and begins to walk once more.

Running into the nearby forest, you escape into it under the cover of the quickly encroaching night.

“We’ll be in Silla territory soon,” you say as you look at Taeil, “Hang in there.”

“Right…” He sighs once more.

Perhaps it’s because you’ve never seen him lose before, but this is the first time you’ve seen Taeil so… drained.

“I’m sorry for being so, um, forward…” He eventually says, “I let so many of my men die…”

“You can’t beat yourself up over that now.” You say, trying to rid him of the thought, “Like the Commander said, we just don’t have what it takes to beat them right now.” Your words don’t seem to reach him as he continues to stare numbly beyond you.

“Perhaps if someone else were Chief… they might still be alive…”

“Taeil…” You let his name slip from your lips, forgetting the last time you’d referred to him by his name, not his family’s.

“Who’s there?” Before you’re able to console him any more, you hear a voice coming from the brush that sounds unfamiliar to you. Peeking out, you catch the sight of a Goguryeo soldier and freeze immediately. “I know you heard me.”

Yuta, who’d been staring intently out to where the soldier stands, murmurs, “I’ll buy you some time. Take the Chief and escape.”

Nodding quickly, you and Taeil tiptoe away through the brush, trying your best not to make any noise. Just as soon as you’re able to get Taeil moving at a decent pace, a shadow leaps out before you, barring your way forward.

“I had a feeling you might be here…” The figure of Xiao Dejun murmurs before you. Instinctively, you step backwards, unease writhing in your stomach as you wonder if Lee Donghyuck is nearby.

“Wasn’t he with the Goguryeo army in Seorabeol?” Taeil asks as you slowly nod your head. “Then we can no longer escape… I need to take responsibility for the men I’ve lost. Will you go on without me?”

“What…?” You look at him puzzled, “I can’t do that!”

Dejun had remained silent for the short exchange, but now he speaks up, “Yes, I do work with their forces. But I have been given no orders regarding the Hwarang.” His eyes shift to you, “My only business here is with her.”

“Me?” Your brow furrows as he crosses his arms.

“Donghyuck is… vexed by you, and that commander of yours. He disregards the kingdom’s wishes and does as he pleases, not as he is ordered. Yeon Gaesomun is troubled, to say the least. And for now, we don’t wish to cut our ties with Goguryeo quite yet.” The light in his eyes promises violence, and his body tightens as his hand rests on the hilt of his sword, ready to make good on whatever promise he’d made. With a swift flourish, he relinquishes his blade from its sheath and narrows his eyes at you, “And for that, you must die here.”

With shaky hands, you reach for your blade, already knowing you’re no match for the Demon.

“He’s after me,” you look frantically to Taeil, “Only me. You need to escape!”

“But—!” Taeil says, panic riddling his expression.

“I’ll be fine,” you try to reassure him with a small smile. “The Hwarang need you now more than ever, you can’t abandon them.”

His mouth hangs slack for a moment, speechless. Then he shuts his jaw and draws his sword,“No matter the reason, an honorable warrior cannot run away and leave a woman alone to fight alone.” Despite your protest, he gets into a fighting stance, slowly closing the distance between Dejun and himself. His face calm and serene, you don’t see any hesitation in his eyes, “My recklessness has seen many of my men to their death, I don’t want it to lead another away.”

You’d seen this same expression on Jisung’s face just before he’d died on Donghyuck’s blade. Taeil’s mind has already been made.

“I am Moon Taeil, Chief of the Hwarang!” With his sword held high, he charges Dejun.

The intense force of their clash sends a shockwave rippling through the air. The clangor of metal rings out and the two part.

“You challenge me knowing that you cannot win, for the sake of someone who cannot defend themselves…” Dejun almost lets a smile creep onto the corner of his lips, “Your actions are worthy of respect.”

Taeil swings at his last word, Dejun sliding away as if he’s made of water. His hand outstretches and grabs the metal of Taeil’s blade, pushing the hilt of it into the Chief’s stomach.

As Taeil groans out, falling towards the ground, Dejun flips him around so that he slams directly onto his back.

“I’ve knocked most of the air out of him. He won’t be able to move for quite some time,” Dejun glances at Taeil writhing on the ground and then looks at you. “You’re next. Do not blame me for what I have to do.”

Raising his blade, he charges at you, kicking you in the stomach as you have no time to dodge his attack. Feeling like your whole body is about to shatter, you endure the pain just a bit more and struggle to your feet.

“You just saw the difference in our power… Are you sure you still want to put up a fight?” He asks, looking to the blade locked tightly in your grip. Noticing that you’re not budging, he nods, “Very well. I’ll humor you, then.”

Giving a huff, you readjust your grip on your sword and rush at Dejun. However, he evades your attack with no effort. You murmur to yourself how you need to change your movements, and begin to swing rapidly at him. Yet, once again, his elegant technique moves him out of the path of your blade. No matter how many times you charge and slash at him, there’s no way you’ll even scathe him. It’s not until his leg moves and kicks your arm with the force of a falling boulder that you move again.

The pain is so immediately overwhelming, you drop your blade to the forest floor, crying out in pain as you fall to the ground. Your knees skim across the dirt, digging into the earth and scraping your skin. Your brain screams at you to move, to fight, but the roar of your surely broken arm drowns it out almost entirely.

“This fight is done,” Dejun says quietly, “Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick.”

Your eyes close as you hear him approach, and a myriad of thoughts runs through you. An apology to Kun, first and foremost, he’d told you to survive and now you’re doing everything but. A tear carves its way down the side of your cheek as you wait for the blow to hit you.

“Giving up so soon?” A voice says calmly, “The Hwarang don’t stop fighting until they’re dead. The only thing on your mind right now is how you’re going to out-think this idiot.”

That voice…

Your head raises and eyes shoot open just in time to see Kun leap through the air and land a strike with his sword on Dejun’s arm.

“You!” Dejun says as he recoils.

“I thought I’d only be fighting soldiers out here… Guess I’ll be taking care of a Demon, too,” Kun huffs, his white hair glimmering in the moonlight.

“Have you learned nothing since your fight with Donghyuck?” Dejun huffs, “A Fury is a mere echo of a true Demon. No matter how powerful you may think yourself, you cannot defeat us.”

Kun lets out a short laugh, “Never know until you try…”

“Only bloodshed will satisfy you… Very well.” Dejun raises his sword, “I’ll be your opponent.” Giving him a short nod, Dejun once again falls easily into a ready stance.

Kun’s blade flickers through the air, a little more than a glint of silver in the moonlight. Dejun blocks it with his own sword, dodging away from the attack. With his brow furrowed, Kun braces himself for the pushback that Dejun does, using the momentum against the commander to shove him back.

Kun’s face twists as his feet slide back into the dirt. Be it his Fury-born strength or his adrenaline- he surges forward after a split second, charging toward Dejun. His blade leaps forward, burying itself into the Demon’s chest. Blood flies from the gash, splashing across Kun’s face.

A startled noise falls from his mouth and he jerks back, pulling his sword from the wound. No sooner had it been out does the wound begin to close.

“Right…” Kun shakes his head, “You heal quickly, don’t you? It’s straight through the heart or not at all, huh?” His sword shines with the sheen of fresh blood, “I’ve got you figured out, though. I know how you move. You’re tough, but you’re not impossible.”

Drenched in blood, Kun looks more monster than human, his eyes wide and hungry. There’s something terrifying and inhuman about his expression as he whips his sword through the air.

Dejun leaps back, Kun’s sword almost catching his hand as he does so. Jabs and parries, feints and counter-feints… The battle flows between them like a living thing; it changes, moving too fast for any mortal eye to track. Neither of the two men show any sign of tiring as they dodge and attack in ways that would be unthinkable for any human.

Even in the maelstrom of death and violence, you can see Kun smiling.

The smell of blood hangs heavy in the air, and his grin speaks of a Fury’s lust for death.

“I never imagined a Fury could match me in battle…” Dejun murmurs as the two part, “You are unexpected. This power, though, what will you do with it?”

“What?” Kun says, confused. “Protect those I care for. What other reason could there be for wanting power?”

“Those you care for… Would you count Silla among that number?”

“No… This is bigger than the Kingdom. They can’t compare.”

Dejun closes his eyes and stays silent for a moment. What’s gotten into him? Why had he stopped fighting?

This would be a perfect time to strike, right?

Just as you think to pick up your blade and move toward him, you feel a hand on your shoulder, “Stay back.” Yuta, who you hadn’t heard return, stops you despite your protest. “That Demon no longer thirsts for blood. This battle is over.”

“Demons are not meant to involve themselves in the world of humans,” Dejun states as he opens his eyes to stare at Kun, who’d lowered his sword. “Now that you’ve become a Fury, you belong in the shadows as well.”

“Yeah.” Kun says shortly, “I’m not interested in my name being written in the annals.”

“If you understand that, I shall leave the rest to you.” Dejun shakes his head, “Donghyuck is proud, even for a Demon. If you have indeed humiliated him, I doubt he will ever forgive you. It is unlikely that you will defeat him… However, if there is something you wish to protect, then please… use the powers you’ve been granted to do so.”

In his own stoic way, Kun looks as confused as you feel. Can Dejun be trusted?

“There is one more thing I must tell you…” Dejun warns, “The power of the Furies is not magic, or a gift from the gods. Great strength, lightning speed, and mortal wounds that close themselves… This power was already within you, but had you stayed human you would have spent it in decades, not minutes. You are only borrowing these things.”

Your fingernails dig into your palms at the realization. By ‘borrowing’, does he mean that when Kun taps into the speed and strength of a Fury, he’s picking away at his future—his life?

“So you’re saying that every time I use that stuff, my life gets a little shorter?” Kun asks and Dejun nods. The commander lets out a short laugh, “Makes sense. Seemed too good to be true. Guess it’s only natural that I’d have to trade something for this kind of power.”

“Then I will be on my way…”

“Hold on. I want to ask you something.” Kun stops him before he can run off, “You sure you want to let us get away? If you don’t kill me now, I’m pretty sure I’ll end up killing your friend.”

“If you defeat him, then that was all he amounted to.” Dejun states plainly, “We Demons are not sentimental.” Then, with a last polite nod, he disappears into the night,

With his enemy gone, Kun slumps and takes a long, deep breath.

“Are you alright?” Your voice comes out quietly as you look to him.

“Fine. Where’s Taeil?”

“Over there,” Yuta gestures as Kun runs off toward the Chief.

“Are you okay?” Kun asks as Taeil looks at him wide-eyed, “Are you hurt?”

“Kun… you…” With Kun standing before him, his white hair and red eyes bright in the moonlight, he looks as if he’s seen a ghost. A Fury.

“Oh…” Kun begins but looks away, almost guiltily.

Staring at him a moment before speaking again, Taeil notes in a soft, stunned voice, “Are you… a Fury?”

“Uh, yeah.” Kun admits, “I didn’t have a choice, alright? It was for the Hwarang,”

For a moment, he sounds composed, but as you look closer you can see that he’s desperately avoiding Taeil’s gaze. Not being able to bear looking him in the eye.

Everyone is silent for a moment before the first raindrop hits you, taking you by surprise.

“…It’s starting to rain…” Kun sighs, “We need to get back to Ungjin and reorganize. We need to discuss our next move.”

“Right,” you nod, reaching out to tug at Taeil’s sleeve, “Come on, we need to hurry.” Taeil simply stands there, almost as if he’s forgotten how to walk. “Is something wrong?” It begins to rain harder yet he doesn’t budge.

Rain runs down his cheeks to his chin, or are they tears?

“What…” He murmurs, “What have I been doing…? Today I sent men—men who trusted me—into battle. They died. And I’ve made you,” his gaze flickers to Kun, “a man I’ve known for years, into a Fury. A monster…”

“Taeil…” Kun’s brow furrows at him, “What is this? No one blames you. We were able to take the city because Li Chi’s forces showed up— No matter how good of a tactician you are, we couldn’t have taken Hanseong alone.” He shakes his head, “I made bad calls too, and it got Jisung and Minhyung killed. We cannot change the past. What we can do is turn this around and keep fighting with our all. Besides, I don’t regret becoming a Fury.”

He laughs shortly, “Hell, I’m stronger and faster than I ever was, and I can use that to help you out. Nothing could make me happier.”

Rain pours onto their faces. Surely it’s in your imagination, but for a moment, it almost looks as if Kun is crying. Taeil stares at him for a long moment, then finally draws himself together.

“I’m sorry,” Taeil shakes his head with a small smile, “I was being foolish. Forget what I said.” Something in his voice tells you that even he doesn’t quite believe that.

#nct fluff #nct angst #kun angst #kun fluff #wayv fluff #wayv angst #wayv smut #nct smut

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youbloodymadgenius · 4 years ago

Text

Too Late (Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is my entry to @fuchsiagrasshopper's 200 Followers Writing Challenge. Congratulations again, love 💝

This is a variation on Ivar's death. Consider yourself warned. And... sorry 😔

The prompt, from the song Too Late, by Ashes Divides, is in bold and italics.

@zuxiezendler - Thank you for reassuring me (I needed it) and for beta reading this for me 🌺

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Summary: Ivar is about to go to war against Alfred. His eyes are very blue, though.

Warnings: major character death; mention of blood and fatal wound (nothing graphic).

Words: 1815

When a hand lingers on his forehead, Ivar slowly opens his eyes before shifting in the makeshift bed and eventually sitting upright, allowing you to take a seat next to him. Looking at him with concern, you tilt your head to the side, one of your hands resting lightly on his chest while the other grazes his thigh.

Studying him, you bite your lower lip. "Your eyes have turned deep blue, Ivar. You know what that means, remember?" Ivar snorts and then rolls his eyes, visibly annoyed. You don't stop, though. "Hvitserk told me. Your brothers used to watch over you. They knew that when your eyes turned blue that you were in great danger of breaking your bones. And they would say 'Not today, Ivar. Not today.'"

Knitting his brow, your lover wearily rubs a filthy hand over his face, his eyes never leaving yours. "I remember." He finally nods, a half-smile curling his lips. "I know."

"You could let Hvitserk take command, Ivar. You'd stay behind, for once. I could even stay with you." You know you're walking on eggshells, but when Ivar answers, there's surprisingly no anger in his voice. Though the calm determination in his gaze tells you that arguing is pointless.

"No, Y/N." He shakes his head and grabs your hand, playing absently with your fingers. "No," he repeats, "Hvitserk must lead the back-up troops, it has to be someone I trust. As for you, I need you on the battlefield. You're our best shieldmaiden, and you know that. And...", he tilts his head, lightly shrugging, "I don't think we can defeat Alfred if I'm not there too... You know..." He taps his forehead with his pointer finger and you know exactly what he means. He's right. His men are fearsome warriors, but they sometimes – most of the time – need guidance when fighting, and who else could do that better than Ivar, with his cunning and extraordinary strategic mind?

No. He won't change his mind.

For the briefest moment, you think you should tell him. But no. It wouldn't change anything. You're not deluding yourself, he'd still go. And he'd demand that you stay behind. And that's not happening. It's an option you refuse to even consider. If he goes, you go. That's who you are. Both of you. A king – a warrior – and a shieldmaiden.

You'll tell him afterwards. Once it's all over. Once Alfred is defeated.

"Okay, then." Leaning in, you give him a peck on the lips before standing up. "Promise you'll be careful."

Flashing you a reassuring yet tired smile, he nods. "I always am."

The battle rages for hours now and you know you should feel it in your bones. The pain. The exhaustion. But you don't. Unharmed and powerful, a shield in your left hand, it's like you're flying, dodging blow after blow, slicing throat after throat, driving your trustworthy sword into chests or guts, as you slash your way through the enemies. Exhilarated, you shout war cries and you know that if they are cathartic to you, they scare the Saxon soldiers. The thought makes you laugh – and indeed a crazy laugh escapes your throat as you run forward, swinging your blade from side to side, momentarily crouching down as an axe flies over your head.

Attacking a Saxon with your shield, you beat him savagely with repeated blows to his skull before skewering him with your sword. As he falls to the ground, already dead, you look up to the sky for a second, and silently thank the gods, a beaming smile adorning your face. You love that. You're never more alive than on the battlefield. As you lower your gaze, eager to slaughter more and more Christians, your eyes catch something on the left.

And it's like the world stops spinning.

Like your heart stops beating.

And you stop breathing.

Petrified, you can't comprehend what you're seeing. It doesn't make sense. It can't make sense. Why is this Saxon stabbing Ivar? How can it be? Why isn't your lover fighting back? Why is he bleeding? Your shield and sword slipping out of your hands, the ringing in your ears is suddenly deafening, and for a fleeting second, you think you might throw up. But you won't. Because that can't be real. You're hallucinating, for sure. It can't be happening. It doesn't make sense. It can't. It simply can't.

A sudden cry of pain and the distinctive and all too familiar sound of a broken bone snap you out of your stupor and you rush over to your lover – 'Not today, Ivar, not today, no' – dropping to the ground next to him, your hand grazing his cheek. As you see the state he's in – his left leg unnaturally bent at the knee with exposed bone; his stomach covered with blood – a shiver runs down your spine and you gasp, filled with horror. You want to cry, and scream, and shout but instead you inhale deeply, blinking several times before locking eyes with his bloodied ones. Your man needs you.

"I'm here, Ivar, I'm here." As you carefully place his head on your lap, his hand grabs your arm, squeezing it. His eyelids flutter as he tries to focus his gaze on you. Weakly raising his free hand, he fails to touch your face and something between a sob and a whine escapes his lips. Gently intertwining his fingers with yours, you can't help but repeat yourself. "I'm here, my love, I'm here."

A faint shake of his head and then he speaks, his voice hoarse and barely a whisper. "You... You should leave... Leave, Y/N.." He swallows painfully, and a sob chokes in your throat as you see blood running out of his mouth. You shake your head, not trusting your voice, but Ivar, your stubborn lover, keeps speaking, mustering all his strength. "Leave, my love, you're... not safe... here..." He then lets out a shuddering breath, loosening his grip on your arm.

Raising your head and looking around, you see that your fellow warriors are gone. Someone, Haakon probably – you always saw Ivar's second in command as a coward – must have sounded the retreat, now that their king is down. You don't have time to dwell on it though as you realize that the two of you are now surrounded by Saxon soldiers, their swords pointed at you. You coldly glare at them for a few brief seconds before meeting King Alfred's gaze. The Saxon commander seems shocked as he looks with wide open eyes at the man lying in front of you.

"Lower your weapons!" You barely hear Alfred's order, your mind taken with other thoughts, and you don't bother to see if his soldiers obey. The truth is, Alfred and his men are the least of your concerns right now. No matter what happens, no matter what they do, you're not going anywhere.

Once more, giving your undivided attention to your lover, you shake your head, speaking with conviction and determination. "I'm not leaving your side, my love."

Ivar frowns and winces. "I want you to... be safe..." He mutters with great effort, clearly in terrible pain. "It makes... no difference if... if you stay. I'm..." He squeezes his eyes shut, and you're suddenly aware of how pale he is, his hand on your arm now ice cold. He eventually speaks again, his breathing ragged and shallow. "I'm going to... die anyway. Y/N," his voice is choked, and your eyes are full of tears, "I'm...dying."

He's right. He's dying. There's no denying it. As heartbreaking as this thought may be, it is no less true. You've been in enough battles, seen enough fatal injuries to not delude yourself. With a wound that bad, there's no chance of survival. Absolutely none. You know it won't take long.

But it doesn't change a single thing. How could you leave him here, in this foreign land, surrounded by strangers – by enemies? How could you? You don't want to be safe, you want to be with him, as long as you can.

You may not be able to save him, but you can be there. You want to be there.

I will not lose you to a world that doesn't care

To the monsters that would have you.

Your hand cups his face as you swallow thickly, blinking back tears. "And I want to be here. I won't leave you alone." The pain in your heart is such that you can hardly speak. Taking the deepest breath you can, you then bite your inner cheek so hard that you can taste the blood in your mouth. "You're not alone, my love. You don't have to face this alone."

Ivar's eyes are closed, and for a moment, you're not sure he heard you. If you're being honest, you're not sure he's still there with you, even if he's still breathing.

But then, his eyelids flutter open, revealing glassy eyes. There's no more light in them; no more fight. "Not today..." He mumbles, despair clear in his voice. And suddenly his face crumples and his eyes are full of tears and you can almost physically feel the panic coursing through his battered body. When he speaks, sobbing very hard, it's to say what you never thought you'd hear him say, his voice as shaky as your hand on his face.

"I'm afraid."

It rips your heart out.

"I'm afraid."

It tears you to pieces.

"I'm afraid."

It destroys you.

You hiccup, a hand moving to cover your mouth. You want to take his pain away, you want to die and let him live. Your head is spinning, you're dying from the inside, you're not sure you can do it, but you have to. You know you have to.

So, gathering the courage you thought you didn't have, you nod. With tears rolling down your face, you swallow hard and say, "I won't tell anyone." Shaking with long, racking sobs, you try to smile. "No one will ever forget Ivar the Boneless. And I will never forget you, my love."

The fear in his haunted eyes almost unbearable, you can just soothe him, a reassuring hand on his cheek. Your tears join his, splashing on his face as you whisper again and again. "You're not alone, my love... I'm right here, next to you... You're not alone..." Sliding your arm under his head, you clumsily lie down next to him, curling your limbs around his body, cradling him.

Never surrender you, I always be there

I will be there to wrap myself around you.

And then, with a last gasp, your lover stops breathing.

And your whole world just shatters around you over and over and over...

Time loses all meaning.

You can't move.

Can't think.

Can't cry.

Can't feel.

He's gone.

And you realize you never had a chance to tell him...

He's gone.

Tagging: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @a-mess-of-fandoms @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @ivarthebloodyking @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @fuchsiagrasshopper

#fuchsiagrasshopper200 #ivar #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivar fic #ivar imagine #ivar vikings #vikings ivar #vikings imagine

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shangtusianheroes · 4 months ago

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Gong crossed his arms and nodded along with Evelyn's well said assessment. If what Carol said was true to him when they passed each other coming in. Then Neera was in no way in fighting form. As a General there was no way he could let a wounded soldier on the battlefield. As Neera's friend there was NO way in hell he was letting her do something this stupid! Let the higher ups say he was to emotionally involved in the situation all they want!

" Eh dun worry none, if there is a Mole--- I'll find them. I might be old, and a bit washed up... but i got a few tricks in me yet. Besides... If there is a mole that'd be on me. Least i can do is fix my own screw up... "

The massive panda sighed looking up at the ceiling, he might have been the most loyal soldier in the 3 kingdoms. But he was also the most trusting and often times naive. He was a good man, who wanted to believe people were good by default. Its why he gave Lilac and Carol a chance back then. Why he still believed in both of them now.

Neera on the other hand was clearly not happy about being sidelined right now. It was all over here face, the stubborn panda wanted to get her licks in. She was a soldier at heart after all but deep down she knew they were right. She still felt shaky all over, and she needed to repair her staff.

" ... Fine... if you both insist, I suppose i am in no position to argue on the matter... but for the record. I do not like letting others fight my battles..."

Her eyes shifted to the decoy and she grumbled

" The hips are defiantly to big..."

she mumbled and pulled herself from the bath and tried to get herself as dry as she could muster. Before turning to the two in front of her.

" This is the plan we'll move forward with... I'll retreat to a safe place while you two enact this plan. Our main priority should be finding the Magister... secondary is capturing this assassin and gathering information... If we do have a traitor among us... we will sus them out during the operation. "

She gave them both glance over carefully

" Be careful... who ever this assassin is, went toe to toe with the wildcat... and traded blows on equal footing. If this is the level of enemy's combatants we can be sure the next assassin will be no less dangerous...be vigilant and may the spirits guide us to victory..."

While she did have far better options than these replicas that she used for the Battlesphere, they tended to be rather... volatile to deal with when it came to important positions... and she'd rather avoid having to fight the thing if it got any stupid ideas, but it wasn't the point of being perfect or actually replacing Neera anyway... just be good enough to lead any would-be assassins into a trap.

"I can't blame you for that... looking in a mirror is weird enough as it is... and yes, your hips are actually that big."

There was a sigh on her part as she listened to Neera's plan. It wasn't like she didn't already have that idea, but the whole point was that the stubborn Panda could rest and recuperate elsewhere while the decoy played the role of the invalid in the Palace.

"Neera, I do have a few things to say... starting with... I already said that in fewer words. You are also in no condition to fight... this replica is able to fight just as well as you can, and we might have an information leak." She'd point out, feeling a little ignored when it came to the topic.

"So, in other terms, place the replica in the bedroom, play up the whole recuperation angle with an ambush lying in wait... while Neera is actually elsewhere and getting necessary treatment. If the assassin tries to go for the Palace again, we can catch them there, but if they go to her real location instead... we will have confirmation that someone is sharing information they shouldn't."

Evelyn would try to summarize with a sigh, giving Neera a disappointed glance as she was really trying to do her best to handle the situation. With that, she'd fill out a prescription and instructions for Milla to follow when she got here... since she'd have to pass of the role of doctor and patient over to her once she arrived.

"Milla should be able to take over handling Neera's care at this point, so... she'll go with Neera and the elite guard, while Gong arranges the ambush with the decoy and a team of his choosing, and I go with Carol and retrieve Lilac and the former magister."

"Is that a plan we can all agree with?"

#frozen authority #neera li #ruby haired dragon girl #evelyn #General of Shang Tu #Gong

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ackerfics · 4 years ago

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so this is love — annie leonhart

— annie leonhart x female reader

— request by anon: I kinda have a request. How about royal au? Where 2 kingdoms are at war with each other, and reader is the heir of the throne of one kingdom (but they’re not the spoiled type of heir, more like the solider one?) and then the kingdoms decided a truce. Reader will have to marry the heir of the other kingdom which is Annie. Idk maybe those arranged marriages that they never get along at first? Kinda like they were enemies bc they never get along until some development of feelings happen along the way. Maybe Annie will realize that she has feelings when reader got injured since they’re a soldier

— warnings: mentions of war, slight angst if you squint, just two idiots falling in love with each other :))

— summary: you were sent off to another kingdom as a sign of a truce, promising to yourself that the engagement is close to death at how you got off on the wrong foot with your betrothed. it was hell at first but who knows? maybe, unbeknownst to you, the two of you are a match made by the gods.

— word count: 7.5k

— author’s notes: i am so sorry this came out so long :((( we just finished our exams and we have a case study to write as our midterm for a subject. i hope this will still quench your annie fic cravings. and by the way, i fashioned the kingdom of idylle to mondstadt because genshin impact is my stress reliever right now and a kingdom built upon freedom sounds like a gem. plus, the glass castle of the reader is based off of the castle of cinderella, which is the reason for the title hhhhhh happy reading !!!

so this didn’t appear in the tags so i reposted it :”(((

Corsets were abominations that needed to be burned.

The girl with your features staring at you from the mirror was someone you couldn’t recognize from all the preparations your chambermaid did on your figure. The make-up was appalling and thick that you could see a smear on the back of your hand when you tried rubbing your itching nose. Your hair was done in a half up-do with too many decorative pins sticking out, creating a makeshift crown of silver roses, one of the symbols of your kingdom. The dress your mother expected you in was straight-up ridiculous, you couldn’t move from the tightness of the corset and the heaviness of your skirts was hindering you from moving freely. You couldn’t even deny that it was a lovely gown but its inconvenience was irking you at the slightest turn or stretch.

Dressing up this lavishly was rare for you, the Crown Princess of the kingdom boring flags of silver and lilac. You very much preferred the heaviness of your armor and your title as one of your kingdom’s Commendatore rather than the ladylike image your mother has been forcing you on the past few weeks.

You were livid when your parents renounced from the ten-year war that was purging the continent with just a sign on a piece of paper — one that included your name and your honor. Everything was brutal, carnage dotting every town and village of the two kingdoms throwing spears and fire cannons, and you witnessed it all firsthand when you started being one of your kingdom’s soldiers four years ago — a sixteen-year-old girl throwing orders that gave you an advantage from your enemies wearing the crest of the kingdom that painted your lands a heart-wrenching red. Of all solutions that your parents and the other kingdom could come up with, it involved you in the most unacceptable way possible. Officially entering your twenties this year, your parents thought it necessary to offer you as a bride that signified peace to the warring nation right beyond the border. The idea made your vision red, an outburst coming out of your mouth mere seconds after the proposal was announced in the council meeting.

A soldier, a knight, a commander — that’s what you are.

Not some forsaken young woman ready to be shipped off to your rival nation because it was the only way out of this bloody mess.

You had no choice.

The only way for you to grasp the final moments in your kingdom was relishing the touches of the chambermaid and taking in the décor of your room — the small trinkets scattered on your nightstands, the books you escaped to, the jewelry that boasted the colors of your family, and the stuffed animals your nanny sewed for you when you were a toddler. You closed your eyes and let the feathery fingers of the people around you lull you into a prayer for the gods in their celestial thrones, asking for their blessing in this far travel. In the middle of reciting an ode dedicated to the goddess of divine bravery, you felt a cool pendant carefully slide over your collarbones.

Your mother’s face appeared beside the watery princess of the mirror, a forced smile pulling on the corners of her lips. Your distinctly colored irises flickered down on the necklace your mother placed upon the exposed parts of your body. It was a flower-pressed necklace, the gold plate carefully protecting the flower representing your birth. The golden chain holding the necklace together was so thin that you worried for a moment that the fragile piece of jewelry might break in less than an hour while you meet your partner-to-be. You met your mother’s gaze in the mirror — from a chivalrous princess of armor to a dignified queen ruling within a land of eternal spring.

“You look so beautiful,” your mother breathed your name, holding your arms tightly against her ring-adorned hands. Tears blossomed her eyes, trickling down her cheeks akin to the lavender flowers’ petals of the large white tree in your backyard. “You look like the queen you were supposed to be.”

You tried smiling but your wobbly lips made you falter. You can only purse your lips in a tight, flat smile as you face your mother, face set in a kind expression. “Please don’t cry, Mother,” you murmured, placing your palm on top of hers, squeezing it for reassurance. “They wouldn’t do anything to me.”

They, meaning the kingdom you were at war with, the nation that claimed they needed a bride for their Crown Heir. In your world, there was freedom even in marriage — with the kingdoms pairing their sons with the sons of their enemies all for the sake of a truce, especially if the two of them were firstborns. This is very much your situation at the moment. The kingdom of Idylle was a beautiful haven of songs dedicated to the god of the winds, very contrasting to their military power that could take down a good number of your soldiers. You heard stories from some villages in your nation that Idylle was a hoax, that they were bloodthirsty warmongers hungry for the spilled blood of the people of Glaieul, your kingdom. You couldn’t help but believe their words. That was the only addition to your knowledge of Idylle except for their battle tactics and placement of soldiers on the battlefield.

“We’ll pray to the deities that they will do just that,” your mother laughed a little despite the tears. “Or else your father will wage war if they so much scratched you.”

“He wouldn’t do that, Mother,” you shook your head with a slight smile. “You two have worked so hard for this peace treaty. If I ever scratched myself in Idyllic lands, trust me that it would most likely be my fault. Not theirs.”

Your mother’s laugh twinkled in the room, painting everything in a light that erased the heaviness shrouding in every corner of your chambers. “I suppose so. You and your love for your sword are unrivaled. I can still remember the time when you first got the weapon, you were so thrilled for a six-year-old that one would think you were born in the barracks. I have to admit, you looked adorable swinging your sword until the greeting of the night and its stars.” She wistfully sighed, looking down at the necklace she gave you. “Your father was so proud when you came back for dinner that night.”

“My sword has always been a lifelong companion. I will even bring it to their castle.”

Your mother placed a hand on top of her chest, over her heart. “I hope you don’t unsheathe it in front of their royal family.”

You breathed a laugh. “No promises.”

The two of you talk about all the things that happened in your childhood, your laughs echoing through the hallways. The maids and the butlers bade you goodbye and safe travels as you passed by, never forgetting to nod in their direction in acknowledgment. You will miss their company for they saw you grow up before you decided to partake in the war. Almost all of them fussed over the mess you made while practicing your swordplay, cleaning up the broken vases and the mud on the carpeted floors. Even one of the apprentices of the Keeper of Books residing in the palace, Armin, enthusiastically waved at you, his friends flanking him for a visit in the kitchens. You didn’t miss how Eren directed an incredulous stare towards the blonde man, with Mikasa looking shocked at how easily the apprentice interacted with you in a public setting since your times with them only happened behind prying eyes.

You gave the three of them a huge smile that gave their faces a pretty rose shade.

Upon reaching the foyer, your father stood at the foot of the stairs along with the soldiers you acquainted in your time on the battlefield, sending a wave of warmth through your chest. His silver coat lined with gold details was a beacon and his white breeches were tucked in a pair of knee-length boots. His chest was decorated with his sash full of medallions, the kingdom insignia of lilac gladioluses and silver roses pinned on top of his heart. The king of Glaieul softened his eyes, crinkles appearing at the corners, at the sight of you and your mother descending on the stairs.

“My little flower,” was his greeting to you when you reached him.

“Father,” you breathed, picking up your skirts to settle in the embrace of waiting arms. You buried your figure against him, inhaling his scent of pine and rosewater, creating the last memory you will have of him. The two of you pulled away for a moment, your eyes watering at the sad visage your father sported. You felt the lightest brush of his kiss on your forehead.

“Now I’m becoming reluctant in sending you off,” he told you. “I felt guilty when I saw you fight against this during the council meeting. But it is what they offered and I have no say in the matter.”

“I know.”

“May the eternal spring never waver in your soul.”

You nodded before taking a step back, bowing with your knees on the marble floors. Your crown glinted against the light from the stained-glass windows, your hair forming a curtain around your face as you replied, “I will let it fester among the ballads and idylls they will offer. I will carry the name of Glaieul with faithfulness, honor, and grace.” You raised your head to meet your father’s eyes. “I promise to never deter the eternal spring.”

It would be that way until your last years in that kingdom. And as you rode the carriage with the soldiers you fought with guarding the vehicle with their lives on the line, you could only sigh and offer another round of prayers that this swerves in a more positive direction than what you were expecting. After a hefty journey across the bustling capital (people stopped by and waved your carriage goodbye, offering you flowers that one of the captains of the fleet, Levi, scowled at — you coaxed him that it was alright, though) to the hectares of meadows in the countryside, the sight of flowers mixed with emerald turned into a sea of teal as you entered the outskirts of Idylle, your betrothed’s home. Everything was bathed with the endemic species of grass solely blessed by the god of the winds on Idylle — legends say that it was because He wanted the kingdom that worshipped him to look different than the rest. No matter how much you deny it, it was beautiful.

“How are you faring, princess?”

Your daze was interrupted by a baritone voice, deep enough to alert some of the men around the carriage. His gray eyes provided you support during the war. You couldn’t help but smile at the onyx-haired man riding by your right window. “Hello, Captain Levi.”

“Tch. Drop the title, brat. You and I both know that the war made us friends somewhat.”

You let out a small laugh. “Well, Levi, to answer your question, I’m quite fine even though my parents just sold me to gain peace.”

Levi rose an eyebrow at the remark. “I am not one to have the capabilities to comfort someone but think of this as a way for you to help the kingdom without sacrificing your life for once. A nation without its heir is just like losing its king. I’ve seen you train when you’re starting as a squire and to the point when you got the position you deserve. This would be like a small walk in the gardens of your mother.” He fixated his stare on you, eyes dull yet determined to get his point across. “You have a role in every part of your life and this time, this is what the gods crafted for you. Do not fret, princess, you have more chances of being on the battlefield again.”

The words Levi spoke settled in you until you reached the capital of Idylle, a small island in the middle of a clear azure lake with walls resembling a huge castle. The bridge leading to the gates was lined with guards bearing the kingdom’s crest, all of them standing under the flapping flags bearing the symbol and colors of the royal family they serve — a harp surrounded by the colors of gold and blue. Their eyes warily followed the series of carriages, postures becoming stiff in the realization that the entourage holds the visitor their rivaling country sent. That was still the scenario when the series of carriages and horses passed by the marketplace, the vicinity on the lowest part of the walled capital, as if the wind even ceased to let the people gawk at the brightly-colored entourage making its way to the highest tier depicting mansions and the main plaza where their patron god stood tall and proud in front of the palace’s gates.

Everything looked magnificent.

It was a breath of fresh air from the glass castle you grew up in. Whereas your kingdom built a white, blinding home that withstood for hundreds of years, Idylle’s palace blended with the brick walls with its leveled mansard roofs and turrets. The gates were made of gold, welcoming you into a huge square of maze-like hedges, a fountain sitting in the middle of the labyrinth. Some gardeners stopped their daily chores to greet the carriages with a wave of their hat, seeing as you were going to be an addition to the royal family after the wedding in a few months. The steps leading to the main doors loomed in front of you with only a few servants waiting for you to step out of the carriage.

You took in a deep breath, nodding at Levi to open the door. When it swung open, you placed your hand on top of Levi’s as he guided you down the propped steps on the side of the carriage.

“Well,” Levi hummed from behind you, making you glance at him with a curious eye. “May the eternal spring never waver in your soul, Your Highness.” He bowed in front of you, only a dip of his head, a firm hand on his heart, and yet that was enough for you to reciprocate it with a kind smile.

“Safe travels back, Captain Levi. May the gods protect you.”

The servant boys standing on top of the stairs jumped an inch in the air, going down in fleeting steps to get your luggage when they realized they were staring too long at you. You smiled at them in gratitude before stepping inside the palace as the guards opened the huge, gilded double doors in front of you.

The inside was just elegant as the exterior appearance of the entire capital. Everything was bathed in gold that seemed to rival the Sun and it made you look away for a moment. The grand hall followed the kingdom’s colors, from the turquoise carpets leading towards two winding staircases to the golden ceilings decorated with paintings of cherubs and the story of how their god of the winds came to be. One of the servant boys slightly cleared his throat, snapping you out of your curiosity of the myths laid on the ceiling. You turned to him with raised eyebrows, spurring him to whisper a faint, “Follow us, Your Highness.” They led you through hallways hung with tapestries and paintings, drawing rooms where the queen hosted her tea parties (Levi would have loved it), and ballrooms that have the same aesthetic as the foyer. Finally, you stopped in front of one of the apartments in the palace, the servant boy who told you to follow them brightened at the guard stationed there.

“Reiner!”

You waited patiently and let your eyes roam across the hallway.

“Hello, Falco, Udo.” The man, Reiner, smiled at the young boys before turning to you. He placed a hand on his heart and bowed. “Welcome to Gale, the capital of Idylle, Your Highness.”

“Thank you for the welcome,” you replied, motioning for him that it was quite alright to straighten his posture. “The palace looks lovely.”

“Indeed, it is.” Reiner opened the doors of your room and once again bowed with an outstretched hand towards the room. “Here are your chambers and I will be your guard for the entirety of your stay here in the palace, Your Highness.” You muttered a faint ‘thank you’ as you entered a drawing room with a door to the private chambers on the left and the bathrooms to the right. There was a table fit for two people, armchairs, and drawers with vases on top. A huge floor-to-ceiling window illuminated the room, your feet carrying you there to open them, and letting the wind caress the curtains as they danced in the breeze. “If you ever need anything, you can call for my name and I will be here in an instant. Your chambermaid will be up here in a moment to help you prepare for the family dinner. For now, rest well, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, Reiner, Falco, Udo,” you smiled, retreating towards the private chambers.

You let out a sigh and stared at nothing for a few moments. It came down to this. To think that you were in enemy lands and was treated so well without any degradation came as a shock to you. The people so far that radiated negativity at your arrival were the guards stationed at the bridge and some of the townsfolk and nobles parading in the streets. As you think about the servant boys and Reiner’s calmness in receiving you in the palace, you immediately thought that it would be better than you expected.

You took off your heels under your dress, mind racing that this wouldn’t be so bad, and plopped on top of your canopied bed, its baby blue curtains protecting you from unknown disturbances and drowning you in a rapid of dreams.

The dinner didn’t go so well as you expected.

You donned a more suitable dress for indoor use, something that doesn’t include forcing your figure in a tight corset and yet presentable enough to be shown in the family dinner. You even placed a circlet of silver flowers on your head to compensate for the dull dress you chose, the description fitting after one of the chambermaids expressed their perplexity at how simple regarding design your dress has. Your light blue skirts fanned out around you as you made your way to one of the grand dining rooms reserved for family use. The choice of the color of the dress should be enough to express that you are willing to be on good terms with the family of the person you will marry.

But your first meeting with Annie Leonhart was interestingly disappointing.

Before departing from your kingdom, you learned the royal family and even Idylle’s customs. You learned how they always valued freedom and expression above all else, compared to your home that valued their ties with the gods more than the idea of getting rid of the shackles placed by your deities. You learned how they have this festival dedicated to celebrating the love they share with their patron god and how it spanned for half a month.

Finally, you learned about the indifferent Crown Heir of Idylle, the young woman with the piercing blue oceanic eyes sitting in front of you at the dinner table. She was known for building up walls that discouraged some of her engagements with other royalties across the continent. She was so closed off that she didn’t even glance in your direction for one second. Her hair was done in an elaborate bun wrapping around her head in a braid, her small, thin diadem resting against her golden hair. Annie kept her gaze on her plate, even playing with her food mindlessly for a couple of minutes before sighing and taking a bite of the chicken the maids served. No conversation was exchanged and the dinner ultimately became one of the most awkward meals you had. The king even tried to engage his daughter for casual talk but Annie dismissed them with a hum.

The queen had to apologize to you several times after the dinner, with Annie huffing at the back and eager to get out of the room. Despite how much she was against this engagement, you still bowed at her before you retreated to your room.

Now dressed in your nightgown, you stared at the canopy of your bed, already missing your home the more you fixed your attention on the bundled-up curtains. You badly needed to hit a straw dummy with your sword to let out your frustrations. Of all the royalties present in your continent, why did it have to be you that was shipped to this measly forced marriage? There were still so many solutions that could lead to a peace treaty but why was this the only one the kings and queens could present to their courts? A sigh escaped your chest once again at the thought of actually getting to know Annie. You laid on your side, curling your legs towards your chest and prayed that the god of dreams will visit you sooner than expected.

A knock reverberated through your chambers, the sound making you sit up.

You went to the receiving room and opened the door. You kept the small hitch of your breath in your chest at the sight of Annie and her half-lidded eyes. There was no one in the hallways. You figured that she sent Reiner away for some privacy, meeting the blue irises you likened to brilliant sapphires.

“What brings you here, Your Highness?” you asked, opening the door wider.

“Annie.” She saw how your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Call me Annie, we’re betrothed after all.”

“Of course.” You smiled. “Annie,” you tested her name softly, missing the way she inhaled too sharply at your voice.

Annie reciprocated the gesture by saying your name. The two of you stared at each other and it felt like an eternity before she looked away to focus on the receiving room behind you. She noticed how your eyes held kindness underneath the star-like shine even though she showed hostility during your first dinner with her family. Your hair was disheveled and it didn’t take her a minute to realize she might have woken you up from a good night’s rest. The journey from Glaieul to Idylle was a long one. You deserve all the rest you can get, “I apologize if I woke you up but I feel like I should do this before dragging it out.” You once again raised an eyebrow so she took out a leather box, opening it to reveal a ring with a holographic gem showing teal and pink in the middle. The Leonhart family ring. “Here.”

“Oh.”

You were gawking at the beautiful piece of jewelry, with Annie taking the matter in her own hands. She took the ring out of the box and pocketed the container. Her hand reached out to hold your palm against hers, sliding the ring in your ring finger. Your hand still hovered in front of you after Annie retracted hers to find their place by her side. She continued to eye your mesmerized visage with a half-lidded gaze, clearing her throat to catch your attention. You turned to her with a small apology for spacing out.

“It’s fine,” Annie waved off. “It’s yours starting today.” She turned away from you and went down the hallways but not before saying a “Good night, [Name].”

The entire week of your stay in Idylle was uneventful, to say the least.

Annie kept her distance from you after that night she gave you their family ring. It left you thinking that you should also gift her the [Last Name] ring your family treasured for centuries. The ring was placed in a small cushioned jewelry box that you opened and propped on one of your night tables. Your conscience was telling you to give it to her but there wasn’t exactly any moment alone with her let alone just passing by her in the hallways. The blonde princess made it her mission to never let your fates meet the more time you spent in the capital. You then decided that she probably didn’t want this engagement to happen.

But she gave you the ring. Wasn’t that a strong signal that Annie accepted you as her betrothed, unlike the others before you?

You shook that thought as you focused on giving consecutive hits on the dummy in front of you. Two days before, you proposed to the king to let you have a moment alone in the training grounds for about two hours or so to keep you in shape. He reluctantly agreed, but not without a side stare at the queen. They heard of your glorious feats during the war, how you managed to become one of the Commanders of a battalion of soldiers tasked with being in the frontlines and how you won constant ambushes against Idylle’s numbers. Two hours of training became three until here you are, still not stopping as you finished every single dummy in the private training grounds. With your day spent outside, you thought it would be nice to have a nice dip in the bathtub before dinner.

In your walk towards your chambers, you spotted Annie in one of the drawing rooms, sitting in the window seats with a book of war tactics in hand. You recognized the author as one of the revolutionaries mentioned to you by your tutor.

“That’s a nice book,” you couldn’t help but mention. Annie turned to you unfazed by your interruption though there was a glint of interest in her eyes. “The book mostly describes battle formations but I think the author likened it to every situation on the battlefield. For instance, the phalanx was native to the empire of Great Findara and it was great for preventing casualties until it was overpowered by the infantry tactic of the city nation of Khisfire where every man has a role and a weapon depending on their group. The latter was more on the long-range yet melee way of taking back the territory.”

Annie hummed. “Do royal tutors of Glaieul teach this to their students?”

“Oh, no. I learned it while taking on the role of a squire.”

She once again hummed. “It completely slipped my mind that you are one of the Commanders in your military. You were ruthless as the folks in the noble plaza say, blood tainting your hands from doing raids in the border villages of Idylle.” Her tone was like a jab to your side, like an arrow tearing through your skin. “I know it was a time of war and desperate times call for desperate measures but our people didn’t deserve to experience the massacres.”

“They were far from being massacres,” you gritted your teeth.

Annie scoffed. “Then what were they? Because that’s what it looks like to me. I can still remember the story two years ago of a young girl wearing her lilac cape in the bloodbath, eyes so dull that you can see your reflection on it. What’s to say that this engagement is a hoax plotted by your parents to assassinate my family for you to win a territory you greatly needed because of the resources?” She closed her book with too much force, bitterly spitting out the next words, “The apple doesn’t fall from the tree as the saying goes.”

“If you question my being here then why did you give me your family ring, Annie?” you asked, your body now facing the tense young woman by the window. You cursed at how the light made her look angelic like the girl the god of the winds sacrificed his life to before he ascended to the heavens. “This peace treaty is everything my family wanted even though hundreds of our soldiers died in vain for not meeting the ends of what they fought for. If you’re saying that my parents placed me in an undercover predicament to add to the weight of deaths on my shoulders, I suggest you tell your father to put a stop to our betrothal. Because I don’t even want to be here, Your Highness, and it would do me such a huge honor. I would rather spend my time out with my fellow soldiers than pretending I’m some dainty princess my family sheltered when in fact, I was anything but that.

“Have a good day and I hope you enjoy the rest of the book. Chapter ten was a personal favorite of mine,” you dismissed, turning towards the direction of the apartments.

Once you reached your door, Reiner straightened his posture, faltering for a second when he noticed the cross look on your face. He chose not to say anything as he opened the door for you. You took off your boots right beside one of the armchairs of the receiving room and immediately went inside your private chambers. The glint of the ring on your night table mocked you. You stomped over the furniture and forcefully closed the small jewelry box, throwing the container inside one of the drawers.

Maybe sleep will be much kinder to you, the sheets enveloping you in an embrace you wish your mother can only give in this time of need.

You were radiant under the harsh heat of the Sun.

Annie was scheduled to have a free slot in her timetable after being included in one of the court meetings regarding the resiliency plan of some of the villages in the borders that managed to survive the Glaieulian raids. She suggested that the villages should be moved to one of the more remote villages nearer the capital, where the terrain is suitable for growing crops and starting small farms. There wouldn’t be an issue with overpopulation because the recommended village was home to the elderly and children. The newly situated families will also aid the old people as they go about their mundane activities. It was a sound suggestion and her father was also considering it. Annie hoped that would be the case as she scribbled a small note on a piece of paper. After the meeting, she stopped by one of the windows overlooking the training grounds, and there you are.

Your small argument that happened a few days before stirred some guilt in Annie’s stomach.

You weren’t even part of the raids she was talking about. They were led by a commander by the name of Erwin Smith. The stories about you that she heard were from Idyllic soldiers that suffered a lot during the war, not from the people of the villages Erwin raided. Annie couldn’t deny it but she did step out of the line by accusing you of being an assassin. That was too far-fetched. She was just stuck in her suspicions when she was supposed to be getting to know you.

All she knew about you was that you were adept with a sword and can name any tactic written in books about wars.

Annie saw a maid cleaning one of the vases in the hallway. “Miranda.”

The maid turned around, curtsying in a haste before patting her uniform. “What can I do for you, Your Highness?”

“Can you prepare a tray of iced apple juice and some cakes?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Annie nodded. “And can you place this note on the tray and deliver it to [Name]’s room?”

The maid was taken aback. “Well, it would be my pleasure, Princess.”

“Thank you.” With that, Annie walked away without a glance back.

Curious eyes followed the princess’ form, the maid finding herself looking at your figure sparring with Reiner and a smile instantly greeted her face. This could be a turning point in the betrothal because she could’ve sworn Annie had a small blush on her cheeks at the mention of the other princess.

After your training, a tray of sweets and a pitcher with glasses of apple juice awaited you in your receiving room. You wanted to ask Reiner if he asked some of the chambermaids to prepare the afternoon snack but a folded note caught your eye. With one hand gripping the towel around your shoulders, you read the note, your face warming up at the short yet endearing sentence.

Indulge in these, they taste better after a good training session.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, you thought as you munched on a sprinkled cookie.

Her eyes kept following a trail of gold tulle, silks, and laces, never looking away the moment her blue eyes laid themselves upon a beauty that rivaled the goddess of oneiric realms, the most ethereal goddess of the heavens. You were dressed in an off-shoulder gown with loose sleeves reaching your elbow, the bodice carefully wrapping around your torso in the most flattering way possible, and skirts adorned with silver gems. In a sea of aristocrats with fabulous dresses, you were a sight to behold in this ball dedicated to commemorate the truce between Glaieul and Idylle as well as announce the engagement between the two countries. You were starlight personified, shining in Annie’s eyes under the lights of tens of chandeliers in the ballroom.

You were on the other side of the ballroom, laughing with your friends from your home kingdom. There was a tall brunette that seemed to be star-struck because of you just like Annie, a black-haired young woman who was smiling slightly, and a blonde who was engaged in an animated conversation with you. Your smiles were refreshing, to say the least, Annie seeing it for the first time since you came to their palace. Your laughs are genuine and it came out of you so easily when in the company of your friends.

Annie visibly stiffened when you turned around and smiled at her, gesturing for her to come to join the small huddle. Your three friends tensed noticeably at her half-lidded stare, with you reassuring them that she’s not that indifferent all the time.

As if sensing Annie’s hesitance, Reiner chuckled behind her. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to introduce yourself to them, Your Highness.”

“I’m getting to that, Reiner.”

A laugh came from the blonde man. “She’s good for you. That much I can tell. The kindest soul I’ve ever met in my life.”

Again, guilt pooled in Annie’s chest. Those words are the opposite of what she spewed out to you the last time you talked. She called you a power-hungry monster who ravaged the war with no care on your shoulders. She didn’t even apologize yet. Annie sighed, “I know.” Then, she pulled up her skirts, navigated the ballroom, and stopped directly beside you. Her blue eyes scrutinized the three people you grew up with, with the brunette and black-haired woman stepping a small step forward to assert their dominance while the blonde pinched their backs to warn them not to step out of line in another kingdom. “Hello.” She transferred her eyes on you afterward, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back and rubbing it in a comforting motion. “I hope you enjoyed the ball so far.” Those words were directed to you.

You only nodded with a smile. “Annie, this is Eren, Mikasa, and Armin. They’re my friends when I was growing up in the glass castle.” Annie nodded. “Everyone, this is Annie, my fiancé.”

“We know,” Eren, the long-haired man in a low ponytail murmured with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Eren,” Armin reprimanded. He smiled at a stone-faced Annie. “Thank you for making [Name] happy! I can sense that she has a different air around her while we talked. It must be because of you.”

Annie stayed quiet, her hand coming into a still on the small of your back. It was a good thing her left hand was hidden away because they would immediately think that you didn’t accept the engagement. She glanced at the ring nestling in your finger, a perfect match against the golden train of your dress. Realizing that she created an awkward stretch of silence, Annie could only nod wordlessly before shifting her attention to you again. It seems like you’re the only one who can calm her nerves down inside the vast ballroom. She never took her gaze on you even as you continued the conversation between your friends.

Her mind was fogged with thoughts of only you throughout the ball.

The two of you excused yourself from the trio when Annie’s father called for everyone’s attention from the front of the huge chambers. “Everyone, kind souls and pure-hearted people of the continent, since tonight is all for enjoyment, the waltz of the ball will now commence.” His blue eyes went to his daughter, standing at the side of his throne. “The moment everyone is waiting for — the first waltz.”

She rehearsed this too many times for when a proper betrothal comes into play but why is her hand shaking when she outstretched it in front of you? You must have felt it because you flashed a comforting smile her way. The two of you went to the middle of the ballroom, the guests staring expectantly at the birth of a romance. They were wrong because you hate her and she hates you. Right? Her hatred for you will never waver for killing her people even though you look like a descended goddess with the lights of the chandeliers raining on you. Hatred must be fueling her heart to beat faster than ever, why she seemed to trip over her skirts and how her words stumbled in her tongue. That must be it.

The dance slowly made its way to the part where she struggled, dipping you as gracefully as she can. Before it happened, you whispered to her, “Please don’t make me fall.”

Annie’s voice was soft, for your ears only. “I promise, my princess.”

It truly was a birth of a romance, the two of you unaware of it all.

“Come on, Reiner!” You shouted at him from across the training field. “Come at me with all you’ve got.”

The blonde man hesitantly shifted into position as he eyed you. “Are you sure, princess? I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” He remembered the threatening look he received from Annie before this training session and he would like all of his limbs intact, thank you very much. “I just don’t want your chambermaid to nag me again after last time.” He managed a cut on your arm your previous session and you had to wear a long-sleeved dress in such stifling weather.

You scoffed lightheartedly. “I can handle it, Reiner. You don’t have to worry about it. Plus, I can dress my wounds perfectly.”

Reiner didn’t believe that. Your skills in covering up your wounds were lacking despite being a soldier. The most you could do was apply some salve on your bruises, that was it. He had no choice because the past month he spent his days with you, you were like a persistent little child that reminded him of his younger cousin. He hoped that you two wouldn’t meet. “Alright, here I go, Your Highness.”

Parry after parry could be heard in the private training field. You were doing fine in deflecting Reiner’s sword but your ankle immediately ached after shifting your body, leaning back to avoid the sharp edge of the knight’s weapon. You let out a huff as you dropped on the ground, jolting when Reiner called for you to stay alert. Seeing the glint of his sword, you rolled away and the pain on your ankle flared, even more, traveling through your calf. It also didn’t help that you received a cut on the side of your bandaged arm. You picked yourself up despite the throbbing pain on your ankle and arm, now being on the defensive as Reiner continuously struck you with his sword. He then circled his weapon around yours, throwing your sword on the side and pushing you to the ground with the tip of his weapon. That was the time where your ankle finally twisted into a sprain.

“Ah!”

“Princess?” Reiner’s tone became alarmed, dropping to your level and taking off your boots in an instant. His hands ghosted around your swollen ankle, not knowing what to do. “Gods, Annie’s going to kill me!”

“Annie?” You asked between pants. “What does this have to do with her?”

He only shook his head, carrying you in his arms and into the palace. His steps were hurried and the maids gasped at the sight of your red ankle. “Please prepare a bucket of ice and bring it to Princess [Name]’s private chambers.” He turned to you. “Hang on for a moment, Your Highness, we’re nearing your room. Just a little bit more.” Reiner entered your room and gently placed you on your bed. “I’m going to be taking off your other shoe, Your Highness.”

“Reiner, I think I’ll take it from here.”

Reiner stiffened, slowly turning his head to the entrance of your private chambers. Annie was impatiently standing with a bucket of ice in both hands, eyes glacially set on the blonde man kneeling on the floor in front of your confused form. She didn’t care if Reiner trembled in front of her. She vividly remembered telling the knight to never hurt you (she didn’t see the cut you had last training session because Annie was in another court meeting involving the incoming tax collection of various villages). Annie glanced at your ankle, barely grimacing at the state of it before gesturing for Reiner to get out of the room. The large blonde man took his leave, bowing at the two of your hastily and closing the doors with finality.

Annie mimicked Reiner’s position, kneeling in one knee to place your injured foot on her thigh. She didn’t wear any dresses for the day and it made her look dashing. The image implanted itself in your brain. Her hands are gentle against your skin, your cheeks flaring at the contact. Her features were contorted in a downturned one that showed how bothered she was.

“How did this happen?”

Your eyes settled on the top drawer of your nightstand. “I dodged Reiner’s blow and I twisted my ankle in the process.”

“You should be more careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

Annie scoffed. “That’s clearly obvious.” She said nothing more while dipping your foot in the ice bath. She lifted her head too fast when you winced at the coldness of the water. “Deal with it. We wouldn’t want this to be worse than it already is.”

“Thanks for the concern,” you dryly mentioned.

“What makes you think that my being worried is all fake?” You’re silent, Annie choosing the moment to continue the words she didn’t have any control over. “When the maids prepared this bucket of ice in the kitchens, I was out of the council meeting. When I saw then bringing this up to your chambers, I was alarmed and my mind was a mess of thoughts concerning what happened to you.” At each word, her face held a multitude of emotions that you never saw on her. Her lips became pursed whilst you wordlessly stared at her. “I am not pretending to care for you. How could I pretend when I’m already feeling foreign emotions when it comes to you? It’s my first time feeling this way so I don’t know if I can categorize this as falling in love. But it feels like it. So, for the love of the gods, can’t you see that I’m rambling because of you?”

You didn’t reply, instead, you reached out to the drawer where you kept that ring.

“What are you doing? You should be still right now.”

You pulled out the jewelry box and flipped it open, showing the blonde the ring fashioned in a vine, the centerpiece being a group of small gladiolus flowers with diamonds in their centers.

Annie’s cheeks reddened, flustered at the pretty jewelry. “What?”

Words never came out of you as you took Annie’s left hand. The ring looked pretty on her, the two of you admiring it after you slid the engagement jewelry in her ring finger.

“I now accept you as my fiancé, my future lover, and holder of my heart. Annie Leonhart, may our eternal spring bloom for centuries, and may your god of the winds bless us with his idyllic ballads.” Annie’s eyes were wide and you can see your reflection on them, along with constellations that lit up her irises. You placed your forehead against hers, looking straight into her flushed face. “They were right, this is the birth of a romance.”

And as you two kissed for the first time, the gods were rejoicing in their thrones, each of your prayers answered — your love finally etched in a whimsical melody.

#annie #annie leonhart x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #princess!reader #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyojin #snk #snk x reader #annie leonhart x you

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city-of-ladies · 4 years ago

Photo

Caterina Sforza - The tigress of Forli

Caterina Sforza (1463-1509) was the granddaughter of Bianca Maria Visconti. Like her, she was a great warrior and a powerful ruling lady.

The illegitimate daughter of Galeazzo Sforza, duke of Milan, Caterina was raised in her father’s household alongside his legitimate children and benefited from an excellent education. The Sforza gave the same education to male and female children, including in physical domains. Caterina was thus taught to hunt, ride and use weapons.

At the age of 10, she was married to 29 years old Girolamo Riario, a nephew of Pope Sixtus IV. She afterward stayed in her father’s household until she turned 14 and then joined her husband. She was welcomed fondly by the inhabitants of her husband’s lands of Imola. Caterina also helped Girolamo in gathering men and arms and soon won her soldiers’ respect through her strict temperament.

On August 12, 1484, Pope Sixtus IV died, which meant that Girolamo lost an important protector and patron. Though she was seven months pregnant, Caterina rode to Rome. She managed to seize the Castel Sant'Angelo and announced that she would stay there until a new pope was elected. A contemporary observer gave the following description of her:

“Wise, brave, tall, fine-complected, well-made, speaking little, she wore a dress of satin a with train of two-arms' length, a black velvet hat in the French fashion, a man's belt and a purse full of gold ducats, a curved falchion at her side; and among the footsoldiers and the horsemen she was much feared because, when she had a weapon in her hand, she was fierce and cruel.”

Caterina didn’t surrender the place until she had been assured that her husband could retain his possessions of Imola and Forlì.

In 1487, the fortress of Ravaldino was captured by conspirators. The pregnant Caterina rode to the fortress and obtained its surrender. She then went back to Imola on horseback and gave birth to her seventh child.

In 1488, her husband was assassinated. Caterina was first taken prisoner, but managed to enter Ravaldino. Her children were brought in front of the fortress and the rebels threatened to kill them. According to the most well-known version of the story, Caterina stood on the ramparts and shouted: “Do it then, you fools! I am already pregnant with another child by Count Riario and I have the means to make more!”. She then walked back into the castle. Other versions simply state that Caterina didn’t come out, even as her children were threatened.

She held to her position and had occasional blasts of artillery shot at the houses of her enemy. She held out till forces from Milan arrived. Caterina was safe and her children were saved. She brutally punished the conspirators to show that she was in control. Caterina refused to remarry and was officially named regent until her son came of age.

In late 1499, Caterina found herself targeted by the Pope Alexander VI, who declared that she was a usurper and sent his son, Cesare Borgia, to seize her lands. The cities of Imola and Forlì surrendered, but Caterina held on to Ravaldino. Clad in armor, Caterina announced to Cesare Borgia that she wasn’t going to surrender and was prepared to die fighting.

(Armor attributed to Caterina)

Caterina made a skillful defense, expertly positioning her artillery. News of her determination spread in Italy, however, her defense was breached. Caterina then went out at the head of her most loyal men. She fought in the front ranks, sword in hand. The Venetian mercenary Sanuto was amazed by her skills and wrote that she “wounded many men”. Caterina fought for two hours as her soldiers fell one after another. She wasn’t going to admit defeat, but was betrayed from inside the castle and captured.

Caterina endured 18 months of imprisonment before being released in 1501. Since she couldn’t reclaim her lands, she focused on protecting her children. Caterina also dedicated herself to her interests in botany, alchemy and beauty aids. She wrote a manuscript titled Experimenti on this topic. She died in 1509.

Here’s the link to my Ko-Fi if you want to support me.

Bibliography:

Jansen Sharon L., The Monstrous Regiment of Women: Female Rulers in Early Modern Europe

Jordan Emily Anne, Jordan Jonathan W., The War Queens: Extraordinary Women Who Ruled the Battlefield

Lev Elizabeth, Tigress of Forli: The Life of Caterina Sforza

#historyedit #Caterina sforza #history #women in history #15th century #warrior women #italy #italian history #renaissance #italian renaissance #moodboard #aesthetic #history moodboard #women's history month #armor #women in armor #war #badass women #historyblr

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murfpersonalblog · 6 months ago

Note

This reblog is addressing the nonny, not @ca-suffit. (I am SO sorry you're being dragged into this in a reblog, as I'd prefer to talk directly to the anon.)

Nonny, you're always welcome to get off anon & publicly engage with my reblogs & posts about IWTV's episode on Eastern Europe/Romania, Daciana, and Cezare and wait for my response; rather than talking crap about me behind my back. I love analysis, constructive criticism, and candid conversations about racial, gendered, sexual, & economic inequality. (Fun fact: I have an entire post cooking in my Drafts analyzing the clothes worn by the Romanians in S02E01, cuz I love research, and spoiler alert: not everyone in Romania wore traditional white-red-black outfits, not even in the 1940s. So now who's stereotyping, AMC or YOU?)

There is a very big difference between saying the show's being xenophobic, vs deliberately choosing to highlight the very worst aspects of ALL places Louis and Claudia go to. I've explained in vivid detail WHY AMC focuses on Louis & especially Claudia's plights in Europe, and the differences from the book, as this is told from THEIR perspective as Black African Americans DOOMED TO FAILURE at every turn, who, thanks to Eastern European racism (as Romania was Hitler's biggest supporter), weren't even allowed to travel freely cuz of the Nazis/Soviets, saying their working papers were bad and not letting them cross without the permission of a white woman's say-so--AS EXPECTED for Black people in a white world! Why TF would Louis & Claudia talk about Eastern Europe KINDLY?

And I explained precisely how Morgan's xenophobia was indeed CARRIED OVER FROM THE BOOKS, and that it's for a reason, not for AMC to make EE look bad, but MORGAN; cuz he's a snobbish bigoted ENGLISHMAN and JOURNALIST--but ofc folks can't see the connections in this effing show; cuz y'all have all kinds of crap to say defending AMERICAN JOURNALIST DANIEL'S rampant xenophobic homophobic racist microaggressions towards BLACKS AND ASIANS. 🙄😒 Just like y'all are quick to defend Massa Lestat's hypocritical racism against Louis & Claudia, y'all are QUICK to praise Daniel as the audience surrogate, as he is wildly disrespectful to Louis & Claudia & Armand & "Real Rashid"; but even quicker to pass a blind eye over what Santiago said about the voyeuristic immoral callous heartless insensitive hypocritical sadism of the AUDIENCE--aka EVERYONE watching both in the Theatre pews AND through our tv screens.

The show's overarching messages about oppression, inequality, and exploitation apply to ALL people/locations--like I said: AMC's not picking on Eastern Europe; why should Romania be spared when EVERYONE is complicit, repugnant, and appalling! Lestat & Louis wax poetic about the worst places imaginable, and Claudia gives them reality checks every time! Pay attention jfc!

Ep1 took place in the war theater post WW2, which was a historically bad time for ALL of Europe. No, we weren't able to see Louis & Claudia carouse the marble-paved parks of the wealthy bejewelled Romanian elites like we did in Jackson Square. (They're sleeping in effing battlefields every night so they can eat the half-dead soldiers instead of preying on innocent civilians.) But how would that've made post-war EE and war-torn Romania look any BETTER--and WHY SHOULD IT LOOK BETTER ON A NIHILISTIC SHOW?--just cuz the locations changed? I pointed out how bloodsoaked Jackson Square's HISTORY and SIGNIFICANCE to Black people--and Louis specifically--was, which was also glanced over, to complain that the show is giving favoritism to NOLA/Storyville of all places--Louis' actual effing HOME that we spent ALL SEASON IN, which even HE admitted was a terrible den of sin & misery.

AMC's critiquing UNIVERSAL moral depravity & societal degeneration--NO ONE is safe, not even Eastern Europe.

I even warned the OP that we'd see post-war Paris depicted in a negative light, too--which, big shocker, WE ALREADY HAVE. Cut thru the BS of Louis' rose-tinted glasses & romanticized nostalgia (he loves thinking about Paris only so long as it's not about how it's his fault Claudia effing DIED there). FIVE minutes in, we know Parisians are so effing poor that they're wearing patched up clothes, hospitals can't treat malnourishment, and no one's got enough money for Claudia to steal.

We are blatantly told that the Parisian elite are corrupt AF, letting their people starve on rationed food while they party--the same BREAD AND CIRCUSES that caused the French Revolution.

Lou's living in a 9th Arrondissement flat crammed w/ prostitutes, in the same building w/ the landlord & uni students; showing the collapse of socio-economic stratification after German occupation.

The public parks are overrun with gay men having sex--this ain't even the romanticized hetero Lovers Lane in S01E04, where rich white kids could go and be cutesy. This was a place of sexual/social deviance, just like Storyville, a red light district full of Black Creole prostitutes flashing their tits all over BOTH the movie AND S1 for titillating Blaxploitation--how's THAT for harmful stereotypes?

Or do harmful stereotypes only matter when WHITE people/places are depicted in a negative light?

Cuz I'm already seeing the exact same complaints about Annika Rooman, and white fans complaining that she made France look bad cuz she selfishly sold out the old man to save herself from the vamps. ISTG y'all are deliberately missing the point of this whole show. Santiago was hollering for darn near 10 minutes about how sick & sadistic EVERYONE in the audience was. And they're NOT just FRENCH! There were ENGLISH and AMERICANS, whites and blacks!

The whole evil AF Theatre's run by an Asian dude & his white second in command, and there's 2 more Asians in the coven having an incestuous sexual relationship!

I've said before that the Theatre's a microcosm of the whole world!

NO ONE is being depicted well, ESPECIALLY not in Europe/The Old World! Cuz Louis & Claudia are from the New World, and carry inherent biases, YES, but they also HOPED to find something BETTER in Europe! They thought Lestat, A EUROPEAN, was LYING about Europe being so dang bad!

Why the HELL would AMC care about showing Romanian children laughing giggling frolicking in the frikkin fields when there's LITERAL REVENANT VAMPIRES hunting their whole village!?

AMC has been demonstrating since Day 1 very clearly: EVERYONE is complicit, no one is depicted in a good light. I even pointed out how Lestat's entire message agrees that the ONLY good people are good artists/musicians/etc--the rest are only "good" for food! The OP said that pagan religions are being shown as superstitious, but had nothing to say when I brought up how African Voodoo and Christian Catholicism were ALSO depicted as ineffective silly and "cowardly" superstitions. Lestat even calls priests "charlatans" and pedophiles!

TBH this is all starting to smack seriously of misdirection and anti-wokeness; as focus is constantly being shifted away from Louis & Claudia as Black characters to complain about whiteness not being shown enough, or shown good enough, as shows pandering to Black people are being mean & harmful to white folks who should be totally above censure or candid social commentary.

TF you mean I don't "engage meaningfully" with ish, nonny, when YOU don't even have the stones to get off anon and come to MY blog and say that to my frikkin face. OR! Better yet: post YOUR receipts engaging with the show's context and historical facts to delve into nuance or the lack thereof, instead of just riffing about how the show's not being nice enough to white people from YOUR neck-of-the-woods, while having handwaved aside the negative imagery being depicted everywhere else on the show. Just like I told the OP, I'll put it to you, too, nonny:

Some of this fandom is fucking insane. They're not *even* accepting that AMC was xenophobic in their portrayal of Eastern Europeans (I'm one), specifically romanians. IT'S SOMETHING THAT GOT CARRIED OVER FROM THE BOOKS. Like the racism and misogyny. Goodness gracious, they can't engage meaningfully with shit...

There was someone who was trying to pinpoint Daciana and Romulus' origins (they didn't seem bad intentioned, but at the same time they weren't listening to a fellow EE telling them the how and the why of the xenophobia in episode 1), as if the creators really thought for more than 5 seconds on them, lmao. The only easter egg here is that Rome invaded Dacia and that's how (eventually) Romania came to be. No thought given to any costumes here, lmao.

And don't get me started on how they treat Armand, I will combust myself! Besides using degrading words on a fictional SA victim (we don't know if the showrunners changed his backstory in this regard, so you'd think bool fans would know better!!), they make him out to be this evil mastermind behind everyone's suffering. As if Lestat was achtually a sweet lamb and it's Armand who toyed with Louis memories. Ughh, stake me now 💀

ur def supposed to notice the snobbiness, that's a lot of why Morgan is there saying it out loud even more. he's a British Lestat, thinking he's cultured and superior while also being romantically linked with someone from the group he's sneering at.

idk if ur also saying AMC portrayed something offensively (it sounds like it??), u can talk it out in the post ig.

the book fans on the white fandom side have always had it out for armand. they forgive lestat all day and say we'll get "the truth" soon, but everything armand does is evil from the start and nobody should like him because he's bad and it's a "real" bad. it's v annoying and obviously racist. ur allowed to luv the white man and forgive everything for him but the brown man is the "true" evil and u can't like him ever or ur a dummy person who hasn't read the books and doesn't know anything 🙄

#white privilege #interview with the vampire #louis de pointe du lac #iwtv tvc metas #racial inequality #capitalism #capitalism is evil #democracy of hypocrisy #read a dang history book #louis de pointe du black

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salty-rey · 4 years ago

Text

Singing for the Troops

Pairing: Fives x Reader

Words: 3948

Warnings: Fluff! Open-ending (sexual mention???)

A/N: Hello everyone! This is the first time I do a fic for Star Wars, so I apologize in advance if I mislabeled certain ships. Or if I didn’t do the boys’ personalities any justice.

I was inspired by old performances/entertainment for the Allied troops in WWII, and after watching Christina Aguilera’s Candyman music video. Then I thought, “do the clones get any kind of entertainment like this?” So I took it upon myself to make a fan fic!

Hope you guys like it!

I don’t know how to end a fic....

Playlist: Something’s Got a Hold On Me | Candyman | Ain’t No Other Man

Your dream is to become a famous singer, and you have been working hard for years to reach this goal. You have been visiting various bars and cantinas, singing for patrons whenever the owner allowed it. Even if you were paid or not, you still sang. If a bar had an open mic night, you were there. Out of all the bars you’ve been to, 79s has always been a favorite. It was always packed, and the owner was happy to have you sing for the guests. It always brought more patrons, which meant more money for the establishment. Plus, you were even paid, unlike previous locations.

After a few months of you visiting 79s, you attracted the attention of a particular ARC trooper. When you finished your playlist of songs, both originals and covers, you were given a glass of whiskey.

“Compliments from the ARC trooper,” the droid server told you before gesturing to the said trooper in blue.

Looking over, you spotted the clone who raised their glass to you, sending a wink your way. Even though they all share the same face, this clone had a distinctive number tattoo on the side of his head and a classic goatee hugging his chin. It wasn’t the first time that someone bought a drink for you. Troopers before had attempted to grab your attention, even tried to get lucky for a night, but you brushed them off. But there was something about this trooper that was welcoming. Perhaps the way he smiled at you or the way he spoke to you. He was causal yet not dull. Flirty, too but it didn’t make you uncomfortable. You become bashful at his witty comments. It felt as though the two of you were long-time friends.

The ARC Trooper introduced himself as Fives and greeted you to his fellow brothers. There, you met Echo, Jesse, Kix, and Hardcase. They all serve under Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, aka “Skyguy,” as to how Padawan Learner Ahsoka Tano calls him. They had stories to share with you; their missions on other planets engrossed you. In turn, you told them about your dreams to become a singer.

“It’s silly, I know. Been lectured by my parents for years.” You lightly laughed, only to become surprised at the boys’ reactions.

“No dream is silly!” “Anyone who says otherwise is just jealous of your voice!” “I don’t know what it’s like to have parents, but they should be supportive of you.”

“If that’s your dream, then go after it. To kriff what other people say.” Fives huffed before fully turning to you. “Who can say that they had dreams but didn’t achieve them because they thought it was unrealistic? I’m going to see you on a big stage one day, and I’m going to say, “That’s our songbird.” Because you will always have us cheering you on.” The trooper said with a soft smile.

A blush crept onto your face, and a smile was spreading cheek to cheek. “Thanks, Fives!”

After that night, you and the boys exchanged your private commlinks. Soon enough than anyone would like, they were shipped back to the battlefield. While they were away, if there were any downtime between missions and work, you would hear your holoprojector beeping. You spent hours talking to each trooper, glad to see that they were doing well. Fives was the one who spent the most time with you, almost talking the night away. He would only stop when he saw your head dipping and your eyes blinking to stay awake.

“Go to sleep, songbird. I’ll talk to you as soon as I can. With any luck, we should be landing back to Coruscant within the month.” So fives said, his holo-imagine occasionally flickering due to the distance.

After letting out a yawn, you rubbed your eyes and smile at him. “Okay. Be safe out there, okay?”

“Anything for my songbird,” Fives smirked. He then bid you goodnight with a soft smile, and he was gone.

Within the month, the 501st had returned to Coruscant, and you met up with the boys back at 79s. The bar 79s was packed as usual, especially on a weekend evening. Troopers from all kinds of battalions were here, drinking and dancing, retelling stories with their brothers and civilians. The music was pumping, and the dance floor was full of slightly or fully intoxicated soldiers.

Tight hugs and smiles were exchanged when you were reunited with the boys at the bar before entering and finding an empty booth for you all to sit. Echo had left the table to get everyone their drinks as you and boys caught up.

“I heard that there this campaign being made for singers by singers and that they want to sing for you troopers.” So you told them, raising for your a bit so that they can hear you over the music.

Singing for the Troops was a campaign created by independent singers on Coruscant. Singers who supported the clones and believed that the troops deserve a moment of peace and perhaps experience some form of normality, which may be entirely new to them. What clone can say that they have been to a concert? Plus, it would give the artists a moment to shine and perhaps score big with a sponsor. It’s a win-win situation!

“The campaign reached several Republic-allied planets, encouraging other singers to sign up. Not just that, but it’s was being crowdfunded, and it reached its price goal! Also, I heard that a famous singer is the main supporter of the campaign,” you informed as Echo passed around everyone’s drinks.

“You should sign up!” Kix said after taking a sip of his drink.

“I don’t know. I never sang for a large crowd. Let alone been off-world.” You replied nervously, your hands fiddling with the glass of liquor.

“That never stopped you singing at bars!” Hardcase responded before downing his drink in one gulp.

“Just imagine that you’re singing to us! We already have the same faces.” Jesse joked before wincing at the sudden punch to the shoulder.

“Look, songbird; you’re a great singer. And you’ve sung in front of countless drunken troops. So singing in front of a bunch of sober soldiers will be easy,” Fives chimed in, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. “All those other singers will be lucky to have you join them.” He said before winking, a smirk on his face.

Your cheeks felt warm, and it wasn’t because of the liquor. “Thanks, Fives.” A soft smile formed on your lips, happy to hear his compliments. You then sighed before downing the rest of your drink. “Alright. I’ll do it!”

“Alright. A toast to (Y/N)!” Kix cheered, raising his glass, and the rest joined in.

The next day, you wasted no time in signing up for a chance to sing in the campaign. The requirements are to submit a recording of your singing, and if you are selected, you will receive a message at the earliest notice. When you waited for a response, you and the boys roam the upper mid-levels of Coruscant, taking time to hang out before the boys were shipped back to war. It always felt bittersweet saying goodbye, but you knew that it wouldn’t be for long.

It will be much longer.

Arriving at your apartment from working your day job, you noticed that your holoprojector was blinking; someone left a message for you. A tightening sensation was felt in the pit of your stomach, your heart racing as you approached your holoprojector. You stared at the blinking light. Did one of the boys leave a message for you? No, they know your schedule, so it possible it isn’t them.

Is it from the campaign? Your heart hammered hard against your ribcage as your hand reached over. Then, what felt like many minutes, you finally pressed the button, the image of a well-dressed man appearing.

“Evening, miss (Y/N). I am the manager of the campaign Singing for the Troops, and I’m here to congratulate you. You have been selected to be one of our singers! We hope to hear from you soon.” The recording ended with a courtesy bow from the man, leaving you standing there in shock.

Did he just say that you were accepted? Does that mean you get to go off-world and sing?!

A squeal of joy echoed throughout your apartment, you jumping in place. “I did it!!” You cheered before reaching for your holoprojector. You had to tell the boys! You had to tell Fives!

After several minutes to reach them, no one answered your calls. Your smile slowly turned into a frown before sighing in defeat. “They’re at war, (Y/N)... they’re probably outside of their base. I’ll just leave them a message about the good news.”

Later in the day, you contacted the campaign manager and agreed to meet with them for further instruction. The plan was to visit various battalions and sing for them during downtime. It will be difficult, and the campaign will have to plan, seeing battalion will go first. During those long weeks of planning, meeting other artists, and vocal practices, there still was no response from the boys. It wouldn’t be the first time you didn’t hear from Fives and the others, although you couldn’t help but worry.

“Once everyone arrives onto Coruscant, we will first visit the 104th Battalion,” the campaign manager informed everyone via holoprojector.

“The Wolfpack Co.,” you whispered to yourself. Fives told you about this battalion, having pointed a couple of them out back at 79’s. Fives said to you that the unit within the 104th was a serious, no-nonsense type of group. Entertaining this group and the rest of the battalion will be a challenge.

The manager continued to list other battalions and legions until one of them caught your attention. “501st and finally, the 212th.”

“Bottom of the list...” You whispered, frowning lightly. How long will it take for you to reach the 501st Legion?

The meeting concluded with a buzz of excitement. It was happening. For reals! In a few days, you will be flying out of Coruscant for the first time, following your dreams.

Before the faithful day could arrive, you decided to reach the boys once more. You sat with anticipation, your knee bouncing as you waited for someone to answer. Finally, after several beeps, the projector came to life, and standing before you was Fives.

“Fives! Thank the Maker,” you sighed in relief before glaring up at him. “Why hasn’t anyone returned my messages?”

The ARC Trooper lightly winced at your tone before smiling apologetically. “Sorry, songbird. The mission was a lot tougher than we first thought. But we finally liberated the planet from Separatist control. The boys and I are fine. I’m sorry for worrying you.” He said, frowning and eyes cast downward.

You opened your mouth to speak before shutting, looking away as well. “No, it’s not your fault. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. We’re at war, and I know that you won’t always be there for our calls. I just....” You began to say but couldn’t finish your sentence.

“I know.” Fives stared at you, eyebrows knitted. “(Y/N)?” Looking back up, he was now smiling at you ever so sweetly that it made you blush. “Congrats on getting picked. I knew you would get in.”

You blinked up at the ARC trooper before smiling. The two of you spend a couple of hours talking, quickly making up for the lost time. You told him the battalions that you were going to visit, and he groaned in annoyance. “Why do we have to be at the bottom of the list?”

“I guess the 104th battalion are in dire need to put some smile on their faces—especially that sourpuss Wolffe.” You teased, causing Fives to laugh.

“That’s going to be one hell of a challenge. I don’t think I saw Commander Wolffe smile before.”

“I welcome a challenge. And I’ll sure be the one to turn his scowl into a grin.” You puffed out your chest in pride.

Fives chuckles at your comical posture, lightly shaking his head. “If anyone can, it’s you.” You relax, returning to an upright position, looking back up at the trooper. The two of you stare at each other in silence, observing each other’s features.

His armor was scuffed and dirtied. There are new scratches and dents throughout, roughing his paint job. His face looked tired, yet there was a glow in his eyes, staring at you in what it appears to be loving.

“I can’t wait to see you again, pretty girl,” Fives spoke, breaking the silence.

That was a new nickname, and it caused you to blush once more. Despite feeling embarrassed, you smiled back. “Me too. Take care, okay?”

“Anything for my songbird,” he repeated all those weeks ago.

Who knew participating in a singing campaign would last for so long. Then again, the war is still going on, so landing on Star Destroyers only happens when the surrounding area was safe. But it was all worth it. Seeing the joy on the troops’ faces and feeling their excitement as the music vibrated throughout the hanger was rewarding.

Working with the manager and group of artists was a great experience as well. Many of the singers were friendly, sharing their stories of how they got into music. Many of them were humans; one was a Twi’lek, another was a Pantoran, and a couple more alien species. Listening to them sing in their native tongue was thrilling, giving you goosebumps at the realization that there are so many cultures out there. So much more for you to learn, and what better place than here.

As the list of locations was getting shorter, you felt more nervous and excited as you got closer to the 501st legion. You were going to see Fives and the others soon. It’s been months since you last saw them. I tried staying in touch with them via holoprojector, but it was getting more complicated since you were busy as well. But that will all change as you near the Star Destroyer that the famous boys in blue occupied. Although, you were nervous for an entirely different reason. You would do something big, having already talked about it to the manager, band, and fellow singers would help be your backup singers. You’re taking a big chance, and there’s no turning back now.

The ship that you and the rest of the artist travel on docked, allowing the whole group to exit. The hangar will house the concert. That same space will also enable the troopers can dance and sing along. In a matter of hours, the soldiers set the stage, and the singers filed onto the hanger. Just like every other Star Destroyer, the stage is decked with standing spotlights and a curtain to act as a background. It also shields the rest of the group whenever they’re not performing.

You watched your fellow singers perform on stage, peeking from the corner of the curtain where the rest of the artists prepared themselves. As the crowd cheered and danced in place, your eyes scanned around the group. But at your current angle, you can’t see past the first few rows of troopers. So the only way to spot your boys is when you perform on stage. And it was happening real soon.

Three more singers performed, some of them accompanied by background singers or dancers. Then, it was your turn.

“Now, please welcome (Y/N)!” The manager introduced, and the crowd cheered as you walked on stage. Dressed in your performance outfit, you approached the microphone stand. Your eyes quickly scanned around the group, searching until a voice rang out from the sea of white and blue.

“That’s my songbird!!!”

Your eyes snapped to the source, and you softly gasped. There he was—your favorite ARC trooper.

Fives was waving his hands at you, a broad grin on his face. Standing by his sides were Echo, Hardcase, Jesse, and Kix. They were waving at you too, whistling and clapping their hands. They were all here. They are all safe and sound. You felt a weight come off your shoulders, blinking your eyes to fight back the tears.

Gripping the microphone, you paused for a second before opening your mouth. Your voice projected throughout the hangar as you sang out your first couple of lyrics. “Oh, sometimes I get a good feeling, yeah/I get a feeling that I never, never, never had before no, no/And I just wanna tell you right now that I-/I believe, I really do believe that/Something’s got a hold on me.”

“(Oh, it must be love),” your backup singers sang softly after you. Drums began to play. A soft bass followed along as you continued to sing. Your feet carried you around the stage, feeling the beat. The large crowd of troopers resumed their dancing, stomping their feet and cheering as you reached the middle of your song. Standing at the center of the stage and facing forward, your eyes then locked to Fives’s as you sang out the next couple of lyrics.

“My heart feels heavy, my feet feel light/I shake all over, but I feel alright/I never felt like this before/Something’s got a hold on me that won’t let go/I never thought it could happen to me/Got me happy when I’m in misery/I never thought it could be this way/Love’s sure gonna put a hurting on me.”

The whole time, neither one of you broke eye contact. You can see the look of surprise appearing on the ARC trooper’s face before shifting to one of love, a smile decorating his face. The other boys looked surprised at your words before looking at Fives. It was evident that their brother had a thing for you since day one, but to have you tell him of your feelings ---incredibly so bold like this--- was shocking. But they began to cheer, Echo smacking Jesse’s back as his brother rolled his eyes before depositing a small number of credits.

You grinned at the end of your song. Then, having witnessed the reaction from the boys, you blushed a bit. Glancing back at the band, you nodded your head. Drums began to play, followed by a couple of trumpets. “I met him out for dinner on a Friday night/He really got me working up an appetite,” you began to sing, moving your hips to the beat. The crowd started up again, dancing along to the sound of your voice. “He’s a one stop shop, makes my cherry pop/He’s a sweet talkin’, sugar coated candyman!”

“Well, by now, I’m getting all bothered and hot/When he kissed my mouth, it really hit the spot/He had lips like sugarcane/Good things come for boys who wait!” So you sang, smiling at Fives, who smirked back at you. The crowd was getting excited as you moved your hips rather proactively, your confidence rising after seeing Fives’s responses to your words.

“He’s a one stop shop with a real big (ugh)/He’s a sweet-talkin’, sugar-coated candyman.” The crowd wolf-whistled at those words, but your focus was on Fives. You can see him biting his bottom lip, eyes heatedly watching you now.

When the song finished, the band continued onto your final piece. You had perfectly planned this night. Your choice of songs were different than the ones from previous performances. This was your love letter to Fives. You love him, and it appears that he feels the same way. You don’t know when will be the next time that the two of you will see each other. You would have loved to tell him your feelings differently, but like how you said before, singing is what you know best.

“Ain’t no other man can stand up next to you/Ain’t no other man on the planet does what you do/You’re the kinda guy a girl finds in a blue moon/You got soul, you got class, you got style with your bad ass/Ain’t no other man, it’s true/Ain’t no other man but you!”

Your performance ended with a loud round of applause. You were softly panting, sweat trickling down your neck, eyes watching Fives. He was clapping the hardest, using two fingers to whistle. A bright smile came to your face, thanking everyone before retreating to the back of the stage.

“What are you waiting for?!” Jesse shouted, a smirk on his face before lightly shoving Fives. “Go after her!” Echo encouraged, followed by a thumbs up from Hardcase and a nod from Kix.

Without wasting another second, Fives rush past his brothers, being careful not to bump into anyone as the next singer came to the stage. It didn’t take him long to reach the side of the stage, but two non-clone guards stopped him. “Sorry, sir, but no one is allowed back here.”

“It’s okay! He’s a friend,” you quickly intervene. The guards relaxed, allowing you to approach the ARC trooper. All that confidence from being on stage was dripping away. Now, your heart was racing, and your cheeks felt like they were on fire. Fives smirked as your cheeks darken in color, your blush reaching down your neck to the tips of your ears.

“Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed now, cyar’ika.” Fives chuckled as he took his hand in his.

You laughed nervously, letting Fives pull you away from the group of singers and towards a more secluded area of the hangar. “M-maybe a little,” you admitted before rounding a corner. Both of you were now hiding the two of you behind a starfighter, Fives gently pressing you against a stack of heavy crates. A hand laid on your hip while the other laid on the containers, trapping you in place. “I told you never sang in front of a large crowd.”

“Could have fooled me,” he responded as his hand on the crates moved to cup the side of your face. You slowly relaxed under his touch before gently leaning into his palm, looking up at him with hooded eyes.

“I meant every word, Fives.” You said in a hushed tone, your cheeks still flushed. You raised your hands up, before wrapping your arms around his neck, gently pulling him down to you, until the tip of your noses brushed. “I love you.”

“Say it again,” Fives moaned, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flushed against his armor.

“I love you, Fives.”

What little space was between you two was gone, as Fives leaned forward, capturing your lips. It wasn’t a light kiss nor a deep one, but still full of passion. It was something that the two of you wanted. A moan escaped you as Fives pressed his tongue into your mouth, your hands moved to cup his cheeks, his hand cradling the back of your neck. “Ner cyar'ika laar senaar,” he purred against your lips after parting to breathe, before pecking your lips a couple of times. Hearing speak in Mando’a caused you to shiver in excitement, which he felt against his hands.

“You liked that?” He growled before nipping your neck, causing you to gasp. “There’s more where that came from.” You then felt his hips press and grind against yours, releasing another moan from you.

“There a few more singers left. Plenty of time for it,” you smirked before taking his hand. “And I know the perfect place where you can show me everything.” You both raced back to the ship that you arrived in. You both definitely had enough time, returning back to the hangar but the way you were walking, it was obvious what had occurred.

You didn’t care how the boys teased you, or how the other singers looked shock, or flustered. You are in complete bliss, having Fives at your side and holding his hand for the rest of the evening.

---------

A/N: Thanks again for reading! I have another fan fic in mind, but I should really focus on my finals first!

Ner cyar'ika laar senaar = My darling song bird

#fives x reader #arc trooper fives #clone trooper fives #trooper fives #501st fives #501st legion #clone trooper x reader #trooper fives x reader #clone trooper fives x reader #arc trooper fives x reader #fives x you #arc trooper x you #clone trooper x you #star wars x reader #star wars x you #fan fiction #fan fic #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction

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lilyofthesword-writes · 4 years ago

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Anomaly (Haldir Oneshot)

Summary: Haldir meets you, a member of the Fellowship seeking passage through Lothlorien. Though not a fan of humans, he is curious about you.

Pairing: Haldir x F!Reader

Word Count: 5,111

Warnings/Disclaimers: A curse word. Some violence due to the Battle of Hornburg/Helm’s Deep and Minas Tirith. Injury, mentions of blood.

A/N: This is told more from Haldir’s perspective. Based off another weird dream I had. Threw in a bit of the book as well. Really wanted to get this out cuz my boi needs more love.

Masterlist

Haldir gazed at you from afar while he was on watch that evening. You were... peculiar to him. When he came across the Fellowship trying to pass through the Golden Wood, he never expected to find a human woman in their midst. The world of man was an anomaly to him despite his numerous interactions over hundreds of years. Human women were not granted the same rights and privileges as the men, a foreign to him. This was not the way of Elven culture. Meeting you there was refreshing in a way.

In conversing with Aragorn, he learned you were a soldier of Gondor who had traveled alongside Boromir and joined the Fellowship. You were a fierce warrior but kept a calm air about you. The few human female fighters he had come across, be it on purpose or part of their nature, generally overcompensated, feeling the need to prove themselves constantly. You did not. When the Marchwarden and his company initially surrounded the Fellowship, everyone drew their weapons, ready for the next challenge. You opted to place your hands on Frodo’s and Sam’s shoulders to calm them while Merry and Pippin stood at either side. Instead of fear or anger, Haldir saw an analytical curiosity gleaming in your eyes.

Even now as he kept you in his peripheral, your eyes held a certain light, a light not caused by reflecting the bright moon. It was a kind of serenity most humans rarely portrayed. It didn’t break even as pounding of ambitious orc feet hit the forest floor below. All you did was gently shift your arms that held two sleep-ridden hobbits.

Since the platforms amongst the trees were not large enough to contain both the Fellowship and Haldir’s party together, you had to be split apart. Aragorn kept you, Legolas, Frodo and Sam while Boromir, Gimli, Merry and Pippin rested on a neighboring platform. You had taken to the Hobbits just as much Boromir had, your arms wrapped around them with their heads resting on either shoulder. How you bonded with the curious creatures so well, Haldir would never know. You managed to bring a semblance of peace to their aching hearts, enough so they could rest. He could not imagine it was an easy feat considering all the Fellowship had been through. It made him wonder what Lady Galadriel would make of you.

Upon reaching Caras Galadhon, you practically vibrated with childish delight. Although you had been to Rivendell, you had never seen anything quite like the capital city, that much Haldir was certain. The corners of his mouth tugged into the faintest of smiles when he saw your elated face. He turned away to restore his stoic facade, but unknowingly caught the attention of another. Aragorn shot him a knowing smirk as their eyes met momentarily. Haldir said nothing and continued to lead the way up the stairs spiraling the ancient trees.

Up the stairs, across some bridges and the Fellowship was in the presence of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. Haldir bared witness to the interactions from the sidelines. He knew when Lady Galadriel entered each of their minds through their minute expressions. While most struggled to remain slightly neutral to her ministrations, others had a difficult time hiding their horror. You, on the other hand, parted your lips with an acute tilt of your head, not bothering to mask your wonder or amusement.

The meeting came to a close shortly after. Lady Galadriel’s gaze swept over the group, ultimately landing on you. Haldir knew she would call upon you later that evening. Until then, he was tasked with guiding the Fellowship to where they would be resting.

It was long after the others had gone to bed, after Frodo returned from the mirror, when Haldir learned he was correct. He spied you and Lady Galadriel wandering the halls, speaking softly amongst yourselves. What about, he could not say. He swiftly took the next pathway so as not to intrude on your private moment.

Marchwarden. Please come.

Always the obedient one, he turned himself around to join you both.

He greeted the pair of you with a bow.

“Marchwarden,” Lady Galadriel responded with a smile. “Would you be so kind as to escort our guest back to her company? The hour is late, and she deserves just as much rest as her friends.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Haldir held out his arm for you to take which you did after properly bidding Lady Galadriel a good night with a bow. He led you along the walkways, taking his time in doing so. This would more than likely be one of the few times he would be able to speak with you alone. The Fellowship would continue on their quest as soon as possible.

“These woods are truly a wonder. I have never experienced anything quite like it,” you started, breaking the quiet between you, voice so delicate it was hard to believe you were the warrior Aragorn made you out to be.

An agreeing hum quietly rumbled in his throat. “It is a gem of Middle Earth.”

“I must agree. I think I can understand your fierce desire to protect this place, your home.”

“I am sure you wish to protect Gondor just as much. Your dedication to the Fellowship is proof of that.”

“Despite the hardships,” you tried to hide the way you sucked in a breath, “I am glad to be a part of this. They have all become like family to me.”

Gandalf.

Hearing the grief lightly laced in your voice, Haldir stopped and pulled his arm away just enough to take your hand, turning to stand in front of you. With his free hand he cupped your cheek to catch the stray tear that had escaped your lashes. He was at a loss for words. Comforting others was not a skill commonly taught to Marchwardens. You caught his hand before he had a chance to think about retracting it, leaning into his touch. He closed the last bit of distance between you two and stroked the swell of your cheek with his thumb, your eyes shutting to bask in the moment.

An eternity or mere moments passed. Neither of you could tell by the time you finally spoke. “Thank you.”

The day your company was set to leave, Haldir felt a small pang in his heart. Why was he so bothered by your departure? He had only had the one major interaction with you. The rest of his time was spent either training or on patrol, and on patrol really meant him keeping an eye on the Fellowship. You just happened to be around when he took watch, or so he tried to convince himself.

He stood aside as Lady Galadriel offered her gifts to the travelers, giving them each something they would need or want. She bestowed on you a small Elven dagger, tiny enough to conceal in a boot with little discomfort. The Marchwarden, though content you had some extra to defend yourself with, hoped you would never need to use it.

Haldir then brought the Fellowship to the boats where everyone’s belongings were already packed and settled. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you while everyone said their proper farewells, but nothing stopped him from following down river to the borders. He and his troupe had orders to make sure you all reached them safely anyways.

Despite being hidden amongst the trees, it was like you knew he was there. Your head turned towards him as you passed the borders, not making eye contact but still unnervingly close to it. A tiny smile graced your lips before returning to the task at hand.

Helm’s Deep was not where the Marchwarden wanted to be, but he still had his orders. He was charged with leading an Elven army to help defend the kingdom of Rohan. Entering the gates, he was speaking with a perplexed King Théoden when what was left of your party rounded the corner. Your grin shone brightly in the dark when Aragorn surprised him with an embrace.

Haldir found himself both pleased and upset by your presence. While you looked to be in good health, he did not know your full battle prowess and as such was unsure how you would handle the soon-to-be battlefield. However, he never had the chance to voice his concerns as he needed to position his soldiers.

The rain poured when the standoff with the Orcs and Uruk-hai began, pinging off of helmets loudly. Haldir stood among his fellow Elves. Aragorn spread the rest of you out, sending you to the opposite end of Helm’s Deep where Haldir’s view was partially obscured. He could at least see you standing proudly alongside the other men. He could only imagine the fire in your eyes.

When the battle began, it raged with seemingly no good end in sight. A section of the wall had exploded with Aragorn near enough to be caught in the blast. Haldir could hear you bark your clear and concise orders to the men as you rushed to help Aragorn. Upon reaching his feet, Aragorn yelled out the order to retreat further in to better protect the caves the women and children were hiding in. Haldir belayed the orders in his native tongue to his soldiers.

He made sure the soldiers retreated but was unable to do so himself. Surrounded by the enemy on a high ledge, he slashed through them in an attempt to make a path for himself. His weariness had caught up with him as he was hit in the side with a jagged weapon.

“Marchwarden!”

He spun around as someone called him, ready to slice through his assailant. It fell to the ground as he faced it, revealing you with a now broken sword which you cast away. You stepped over the dead enemy to get a better look at him. Haldir clutched his side when you tried to check on his wound.

“How bad is it?”

“You should be retreating,” he tried to dodge the question.

“As should you,” you answered sternly, locking eyes with him. “Are you still able to keep moving?”

“Yes.”

“Good. We must go quickly.”

You reached out to help him when your breath hitched. You lurched towards him, grabbing his free arm to pull him forward, the motion catapulting you behind him. You ripped the dagger from your boot as you continued towards the Orc that had snuck up behind Haldir, and shoved it between the layers of its armor. In the creature’s last breath, it brought down its sword on your shoulder, forcing you to your knees.

Haldir rushed to your side, stabbing the Orc once more for good measure before shoving it off the ledge. He kneeled in front of you, clenching his jaw to ignore the pain in his side, and held you steady by your upper arms. Your eyes were glassing over while you desperately tried to keep your head up to look at him.

He called out your name. “We need to follow the others. Are you able to stand?”

You blinked a few times before hoarsely whispering, “I... I don’t... know.”

Your shoulder bled profusely as Haldir tried to help you stand. He took on most of your weight with your arm over his shoulder. You wouldn’t last much longer without a healer’s attention. Biting back his own pain, he practically carried you down the stairs to solid ground where Aragorn met you. He and what little was left of the soldiers who had not yet retreated formed around the two of you, furiously slicing at the Orcs and Uruk-hai that would stop you from reaching the main halls.

Soldiers who were protecting the doors ushered you inside immediately where Haldir brought you into the caves for the healers to watch over. One tried to make him sit momentarily to tend to his own injury, but he brushed them away. He could still continue. His ribs were probably bruised, if not broken, but his armor kept the damage from being life threatening. He promptly left to speak with Aragorn about the next plan of attack. He would be damned if he allowed any of those foul beings to pass into the caves to finish the job.

The battle was won, Gandalf having arrived with reinforcements right when they needed him most. When victory was assured, the Marchwarden wasted no time in returning to the caves where you lay unconscious. The healers bandaged you to the best of their abilities given the circumstances, and you were at least breathing steadily.

Much to the surprise of his fellow elves and your company, Haldir rarely left your side, even during the trek back to Edoras. He was still there when you woke safely in the Golden Halls of Meduseld.

Your eyes struggled to open as you stirred awake. “Wh-what happened?” Your voice was hoarse from sleep and lack of water.

“You were struck down, Mellon nin.” Haldir brushed a rogue strand of hair from your forehead and placed his hand on yours. “We were able to retreat to the caves.”

“And the battle?” Your arms shook as you tried to sit up and lean your weight on your good side. “The outcome?”

The Marchwarden tried to settle you back down, but you would not relent. “We were victorious. Gandalf arrived with reinforcements at dawn and drove the enemy out.”

You began to relax at that before another question flooded your mind. “What about-”

“Your friends are well,” he chuckled at your persistence. “They are preparing to leave for Isengard soon. Word has returned that it has fallen.”

Before you had a chance to ask another question, he helped you sit up the rest of the way so as not to aggravate your wound further with your stubbornness and handed you a glass of water. You drank it slowly despite your need to relinquish your thirst.

“Thank you.” You passed the glass back to him, your voice clearer now. “When do they leave?”

“Tomorrow morning, I believe,” Haldir answered and coaxed you to lay back down.

You nodded with a hum. “I suppose I should rest more, then. If there is a chance that Merry and Pippin are there and well, I would like to be there.”

“Mellon nin, your injury is not yet healed.”

“A mere shoulder wound will not prevent me from riding to Isengard,” you huffed.

“It is nothing to scoff at. Mellon nin, you almost died,” he pleaded with you, taking one of your hands in both of his.

“Haldir, I still have my duty to the Fellowship. I cannot abandon them.”

“Tending to your health is not abandoning anyone,” he spoke softly as he ran a thumb across your knuckles. “You will still be able to continue your quest when you have healed.”

You sighed deeply, looking to the ceiling as though collecting your thoughts. “I just... This is something I feel like I need to do.”

A deafening silence showered the room. Haldir studied you for a moment, your unencumbered hand fiddling with the sheets. Your mind was made up, and there was nothing he could do.

“Mellon nin,” he breathed, reaching for your face so you would look at him. “You will not let this go, will you?”

You shook your head with determined yet pleading eyes.

He squeezed your hand gently. “Then, I suppose all I can ask of you is to get your rest tonight.”

“Thank you.” With a smile, your thumb glided over his.

He made to stand so you could sleep in peace without him hovering. As he pulled his hand away, you gripped it tighter.

“Haldir? Will you stay? At least until I fall asleep? I am not sure I wish to be alone right now.”

Taken aback, he stood there dumbly before retaking his seat. “Of course, Mellon nin.”

The next morning, the remaining members of the Fellowship gathered at the stables. Aragorn was in the middle of trying to convince you to stay behind. Gandalf stood out of the way with Gimli, biting back a laugh at Aragorn’s futile efforts, while Haldir and Legolas prepared the horses.

“You will only worsen your injury,” Aragorn chided.

You folded your arms defiantly across your chest. “One trip on horseback is not so arduous.”

“She has already made up her mind, Aragorn. I doubt you will be able to change it,” Gandalf chimed in.

Haldir was tightening the saddle on the horse that would carry you so it was more secure when Legolas silently sidled up to him. “You have already said your peace, have you not?”

“What makes you say that?” Haldir twisted the saddle to test it.

“You have barely left her side since our victory. You must have spoken with her before now,” Legolas quipped.

“Indeed, I have.”

“Then, surely in your fondness of her you would have tried to convince her to stay behind.”

“Fondness?” Haldir stilled a moment before adjusting the straps again. “We are friends, Legolas. Nothing more.”

“Then why is it you have been meticulously preparing this one horse whilst I have already saddled three?” Legolas shot him a pointed smirk.

The Marchwarden felt himself flush all the way to the tips of his ears. “She is still injured. I- We cannot risk her hurting herself further.”

Legolas held his chuckle in his throat as a hum. “The sooner you stop attempting to fool yourself, Mellon-”

“Alright, you may join us!” Aragorn growled with a huff, stealing the attention of the bickering elves. “However, the moment a battle should arise, you are to return here.”

“Of course,” you complied, a stubborn edge to your voice.

Aragorn’s heavy sigh was littered with grit. “Are the horses ready?”

Haldir and Legolas nodded swiftly.

“Good. Let us be on our way.”

You made your way to the Marchwarden who was beckoning you over.

“Are you sure there is nothing I can do to change your mind, Mellon nin?” he asked softly.

“I am, yes.”

You flashed a smile at him before placing a foot in the stirrup. Haldir remained hovering near you. Your shoulder strained as you willed your arms to reach the saddle, steadying yourself as you pushed down on the stirrup to lift yourself up. Midway up, you lost your grip as your shoulder suddenly gave out. Haldir was quick to press a hand to your back to stop your fall. He noticed how your jaw tensed to grind out what was obviously the pain of your wound, but you were still determined to mount the horse.

“Here.” He gripped your waist. “I apologize if this seems forward.”

He raised you enough so you could swing your leg over the saddle, letting you go the moment you had your balance.

“N-not at all. Thank you.”

You held the reins tightly as you settled down, knuckles turning white like it could make everything better. Haldir felt his chest tighten and covered one of your hands with his own, eyes filled with concern. Your head snapped down to meet his gaze. With a reassuring yet forced smile, you attempted to relax your muscles to conceal just how much your injury hurt, but he saw right through it.

With a heavy sigh and shake of his head, he took hold of the saddle and hoisted himself up behind you.

“What are you-”

“If your pain is that severe, you shall not ride alone,” Haldir interrupted, finality in his tone.

“Haldir, this is not necessary,” you argued as he pulled the reins from your hands.

Legolas slinked by with Gimli on their horse, sending you two a knowing smile. The Marchwarden’s blush bled to his ears again. He didn’t notice your own flushed face.

Haldir cleared his throat. “Let us go before we fall behind.”

The journey to Isengard was quiet and uneventful. Partway through the trip, you finally allowed yourself to relax, not realizing you were leaning back into Haldir. Though bemused, he was not about to protest.

Collecting Merry and Pippin was as simple as it was amusing. They were most excited about reuniting with their companions. It was on the ride back that you and Haldir overheard their teasing about you sharing a horse. Aragorn and the others bit back grins and commentary of their own.

The festivities that followed upon returning to Edoras were no better, the ale at least partly to blame. The Marchwarden and what remained of his soldiers were settled near Legolas who was currently in the middle of a drinking match with Gimli. You had yet to arrive. Eowyn was the only reason Haldir was not at your side forcing you to rest. She tended to your shoulder, promising to return you for the celebration. He would have preferred you did not come for the sake of your health, but as long as you were not overexerting yourself again, he would not complain.

He swirled the ale in his mug after taking a swig, mulling over recent events. Usually he was not one to allow his emotions control his actions, and yet he was doing that much more often now. He felt like he couldn’t help himself. There was this overwhelming desire to keep you safe, keep you close, regardless of the fact that you were perfectly capable of handling yourself. Haldir had caught a glimpse of your abilities at Helm’s Deep. There was a reason you had gone to Rivendell with Boromir and joined the Fellowship.

As if to break him of his spiraling thoughts before they grew out of control, one of his neighboring elves nudged his arm, winking and motioning him to look up. He lifted his gaze, about to make a remark for the elf’s teasing, when he saw Eowyn stepping into the room with you close at her side.

The music, shouts, laughter - they all faded away from his ears. You practically radiated light despite your nervous self on display. Eowyn had lent you one of her dresses, the fabric draping differently on your frame from hers yet no less perfect. She caught Haldir’s gawking and whispered something in your ear with a smirk. You glanced up to see him but dipped your head back down to where your hair curtained your tiny, bashful smile. Eowyn was quick to tuck the offending hair behind your ear. She giggled and murmured to you again, resulting in your flustered rush to join your companions.

Haldir focused on his ale once again. The elf who had coaxed him into looking up bumped his arm. Without saying a word, he was fully encouraging his captain to go to you. The elves in his company had never seen their normally reserved, stoic Marchwarden act like this before, and they thought it a fantastic development. They all joined in pestering him to at least ask you for a dance. It took a while, but his stubbornness crumbled, and he brought himself to his feet only to notice you were missing from your company. He scanned the crowds, hoping to spot you. Maybe someone else had already asked you to dance. That theory was thankfully doused when he spied the swish of your dress through a door leading outside.

Following and stepping out into the cool night air, he found you leaning forward on the wooden railing, gazing up at the stars. Your hair sparkled under the dim light. He realized tonight was the first time he had seen you without it tied or braided back out of the way.

“Mellon nin,” Haldir called to you softly so as not to startle you. “Are you alright?”

You turned to see him just outside of the door and nodded with a tired smile. “Yes. I just felt I needed some fresh air and a moment away from the crowd.”

“I apologize for disturbing you. I will-”

“No!” You cut him off quickly. “I mean... You did not disturb anything. You can stay if you would like.”

The corners of Haldir’s lips tugged upwards ever so slightly as he approached you, joining you in your previous stargazing. The peaceful quiet of the night muffled the festivities in the building. He felt you cover his hand with your own accompanied by a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you, Haldir, for everything,” your voice was just above a whisper.

“I should be thanking you, Mellon nin,” he shook his head, his other hand coming to grasp yours. “If you had not come for me, I would not be at your side now.”

A breathy chuckle passed your lips. “I suppose we are even then.”

Haldir hummed questioningly.

“Had you not brought me with you whilst retreating, then I would not be at your side now.” You parroted the last words with a grin.

The Marchwarden’s shoulders shook with a quiet laughter. “I cannot argue against that.”

You set your free hand on top of your conjoined ones as you leaned against his shoulder. A comforting silence befell you both. That is until you heard chittering giggles from behind. The pair of you turned to see Merry and Pippin poking their heads from the doorway, followed by Aragorn who proceeded to drag them back inside and shot you a wink as he did so.

Gondor had called for aid. Rohan answered. The army’s camp was set up, and Aragorn had a plan. Haldir received orders for his company to continue helping Rohan and meet with Elrond to receive more explicit directions.

The morning for departure arrived, and Aragorn was set to travel to the Paths of the Dead. Legolas, Gimli, Haldir and you were to join him. Haldir’s soldiers were to follow King Théoden into battle. You all stood wearily at the start of the trail, feeling the ominous air seeping down to the bone.

Haldir brushed his hand against your elbow for your attention. “May I speak with you privately?”

You looked up at him with worried eyes and nodded, probably guessing what this was about. He pulled you to the side just out of earshot of the others.

He steeled himself with a deep breath. “I must insist you do not join us, Mellon nin.”

“But Haldir, I-”

“Please, Meleth nin,” he desperately pleaded, not meaning to let the new term of endearment slip. Tenderly cupping your face with both hands, he continued, “None of us know how this will end. We... We may not come back. I beg of you to please stay with Eowyn.”

His voice was hushed, afraid it would break if he attempted to speak any louder. He knew his emotions were on full display, but he could not bring himself to care. What mattered was keeping you safe.

“Haldir...” you trailed off, grasping at his wrists with the utmost care to keep them in place. You gave a quick nod and tried to conceal your worried frown. “Alright. However. You had better- You all had better return.”

He pressed his forehead to yours. “I will do everything in my power to do just that.”

The Marchwarden was among the Fellowship in Minas Tirith when he saw a barely conscious Eowyn being carried into the Houses of Healing. Panic coursed through his veins. You were nowhere to be found. He rushed over to her as she was laid on a bed.

“Lady Eowyn, what happened?”

She nearly didn’t recognize him. All of her effort was put into focusing on his words.

“Lady Eowyn, please. Where is she?” He held his breath like it would help him hear better.

With a tiny shake of her head, she croaked quietly, “I am sorry... We... We were separated... in battle... I know not... her fate...”

Haldir stepped aside to allow the healers in. His heart was at a standstill. Had he known Eowyn was going to sneak her way into the army, he would have pleaded with you to return to Rohan. Your injury did not have the time to fully heal. Fighting in such a strenuous battle would do you no good. He needed to find you. He needed to know that you were well.

Bursting through the doors, he raced down the stairs for the lower levels, Aragorn shouting something after him. He did not hear a word. Canopies were set up and homes were open near the gate for the soldiers who were unable to reach the Houses of Healing. Haldir weaved through the injured in a desperate attempt to find you. He’d rather discover you here as long as you were among the living.

After a fruitless search under the canopies, he began entering the opened homes. He asked anyone able for a person matching your description. Nothing. Nothing until he reached the last home. There you were towards the back of the room. An older woman had just stepped away from helping you. The armor you had borrowed like Eowyn was in a pile to the side. He could see the bandage on your thigh through the tear in your trousers, but other than that you came away from the battle fairly unharmed. How you managed that with a preexisting injury was a mystery to him.

“Meleth nin,” Haldir breathed, making his way to you. This time he meant to use the term.

Somehow, you heard him over the throng of people, your gaze meeting his. “Haldir!”

You rose to your feet a little too quickly and swayed unintentionally to put your weight onto your good leg. Haldir darted to you just in time, bringing you into his embrace.

“You’re alright...” He rested his forehead on yours just like before you departed, completely forgetting those around you. “I was beginning to think my search was for naught.”

Wrapping your arms around him, you buried your face in his chest. “Haldir, I... I’m so sorry. I know you meant to keep me from harm-”

“Shhh,” he cooed, settling his chin on the crown of your head. “I know. There is no need to apologize. All that matters is that you are here and well.”

Your light chuckle vibrated through him. “You are much too patient with me.”

“I assume you are not familiar with that.”

“You would be right.” He could feel your cheeks lift as you smiled. “Most tend to leave when I grow stubborn.”

Haldir shifted his face so it rested in your hair, murmuring into your scalp, “I am not going anywhere, Meleth nin.”

The world of man was still an anomaly to him. You were an anomaly within that world, and he wouldn’t have you any other way.

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