#next would be male relatives with royal blood

[theothervonkarmagirl]

🍭:

For those that are new

King!Manfred is planning to use political marriages and the babies they produce to increase Makellos' influence.

Maria already entered one depending on the verse. He's already trying to set one up for Franziska. Naturally, that's a bit difficult. Franziska can't (or won't?) hide the crazy as well as Maria can lol

Miles is the most important pawn here because he's the one with succession rights. If he has a son, the son will succeed him. So, shortly after this son is born Manfred plans to have Miles murdered.

[lure-of-writing]

His little Sister: I'm sorry

Summary: The mating bond between you and Azriel has been revealed and he isn't sure if any apology will ever make up for the hurt he has cause you.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: none that I know of

Authors note: Guys I just got my nails done so if there is typos it's because I'm not used to typing with daggers on my hands. But anyways that's not what we're here for. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Azriel was screwed. Royally screwed. Even as the spymaster of the night court he had no idea how he was going to get out of this one unscathed. First and foremost there was you. You were the mosting important thing in this giant mess that your cousin just caused and making sure you were ok was his first priority. That is once you inevitably get all of the hurt and betrayal out of your system. He could feel your emotions barrelling down the bond and it damn near made him crumple under the weight of your hurt. Next on the list of casualties was Rhysand. And by the look on the high lord's face it was a mixture of pure unfiltered anger and the need to protect his little sister. Azriel can’t blame him, you look like you could either rip him to shreds and bawl your eyes out while doing so.

Rationally Azriel knew that Rhys would never really do anything to hurt him but the other part knew that Rhysand played dirty when it came to his family and it was some sort of unwritten rule that he would go to the end of the world to make sure you were ok. If Rhysand played dirty before he was about to get filthy now. This would not be the first time he stepped toe to toe against a high lord, specifically against Rhys, but this time would without a doubt be different. This time Rhysand would pocket away all of the years of their friendship and in turn he would fight Azriel like a traitor. He, without trying, had broken your heart and betrayed your trust. To Rhysand this was the ultimate act of betrayal. 

Only being one hundred years younger than your brother means all three males were also relatively young in the grand scheme of things. Rhysand held your tiny body against his. The three males had taken a break forming training in the mountains to visit you in Velaris. It wasn’t often Rhysand was allowed to leave the camps, much less often for Azriel and Cassian. But with the arrival of a new babe they had been permitted to leave. It became a tradition to visit the ever growing babe once a year. Somewhere in the chaos of training for the Blood Rite you had grown into a teenager. Cassian was sprawled out on one of the couches in the cabin and Azirel had taken his place in the chair that was unofficially deemed as his. There in a seat a little bit bigger than his own but yet still smaller than the couch Cassian claimed you were curled up against your older brother, peacefully sleeping.

Rhysand had always disliked the way things were run in the camps, oftentimes they made his blood boil but something changed in him the day you were born. Rhys knew from a young age that he would be a protector. A protector of his friends, his family, his people and his court. But he never knew that the most precious thing he would come to protect was you. He never wanted in the camps, walking amongst those who would take any opportunity to clip your wings or even kill you without a second thought. Unfortunately there was nothing he could do to stop your visit as your father deemed it necessary. 

Silence was light in the room. Occasionally there was a pop or crackle from the fire, the sound of clothes shifting against the couch from Cassian and the light noise of you breathing. With a heavy sigh Rhys rubbed his face causing both males to look at their friend in confusion. “Something on your mind brother?” Cassian's deep voice filled the once quiet room.  For a moment nothing was said as Rhysand just looked deep into the fire before once again sighing and rubbing his face before throwing his head back to rest on the couch. “What if I’m not capable of protecting her?” The two males looked at each other in confusion before turning their attention back on their friend. Everyone knew that the power Rhys possessed was quite frankly, insane, to put it simply. “Rhys, I think you're forgetting you are there, bud.” Once more Cassian's voice takes over the room. This time in a gentle laughter. “It’s not that I’m unaware of what I am capable of.” Rhys stops speaking as he looks down at your resting form laying against him. Gently he moves a piece of hair that had fallen in your face. “I know what I can do. What I am willing to do to keep her safe but I will not always be around to protect her and that is what I fear.”

“Being her brother is the greatest honor I have ever been given but what if I fail? What will it cost her? Just her being here possesses a threat to her life. Those males out there would not hesitate to clip her wings or flat out kill her. What happens when I am needed elsewhere and she is in trouble? Who will save her then? I know my mother is training her to fight but I never want her to be put in that position where she has to. Making sure she is safe, happy and loved is all I want for her. I never want her to experience the world we have endured.” 

Neither males have a sister but they do have the love of siblings for each other and they know the lengths they would go to for the other males. They may not know what it's like to have a sibling but they do know what it's like to love you. Since the day you were born they have done nothing but love and dote on you. If you tripped and fell and scraped your knees Cassian would scoop you up and cradle you until you stopped crying. Only then would he set you somewhere where he could properly clean the cuts littering your body and then take you for a treat to make you feel better. Azriel would help you with any of the boring assignments your mother would hand out. “I don’t even know what this means!” you would groan out in frustration before dramatically letting your head fall face first into the book. Luckly Az knew you very well. Without looking up from what he was doing he placed his hand palm up in the book and waited for the impact of your head against his hand. 

Finally once your head was in his hand, did he finally look up. “You may not understand it right now but eventually you will and you will be grateful your mother made you do this.” Groaning once more you left your head where it was. “Easy for you to say you're like a genius or something.” You grumble while Azriel lifts your head for you. Gently he pats the top of your head. “Maybe if you studied more you could be one too.” A mixture of a frustrated groan and sigh made its way through your lips causing Azriel to chuckle. 

It was safe to say that they understood what a light you are in the world. In their world. And each male would do anything to protect it. “You know we would protect her with our lives, right?” Cassian now sat up on the couch. This conversation was important. “We have known her since the day she was born. We have watched her grow and reach each millstone just like you have Rhys. We would never let anything happen to her. If it were my life or hers, I would happily give up mine. I’m sure Az feels the same way.” And Azriel did. “You don’t have to worry about her by yourself. We can share the worry Rhys. You know you can count on us. If anything ever happens to you, we will protect her just as fiercely as you do. You know that right?”  And Rhysand did in fact know that but there would always be some part of him that thinks only he will ever be able to do a good enough job at keeping you safe. 

Apparently Rhysand was right. Only he would protect you. Azriel had broken his promise and now he would pay. Next on his list of people to deal with was Morrigian. At the moment she was not a priority but eventually would be. First he needed to survive the night. 

If Azriel were to go back in time less than a week ago, he would have been more or less avoiding you. After his talk with Rhysand about the more interesting part of your relationship the shadowsinger thought it would be a good idea to give you some space, not wanting it to seem like he was trying to pursue something with you. Obviously that was the exact opposite of what he wanted but he was also keenly aware of your brother's disapproval of any male you chose to date. Azriel was sure he wouldn’t fare better than the others. On the other side Azriel truly had no idea how you would react to you being his mate and that terrified him. 

He hadn’t seen you much since the training incident with Cassian. As much as it bothered him to not be able to check on your healing himself he had Cassian right there basically giving me second by second updates. Which he did appreciate but since Cassian knew you were his brother's mate he was being a little over the top. Which is why Azriel was not expecting to see you on the rooftop for the daily morning training session. 

Az and his shadows watched from across the room as Cass ushered you back towards the house. That was until you saw him and course corrected to be right in front of him. “You’ve been avoiding me. Why?” The hurt in your voice made him feel like a terrible person but he also couldn’t give you the real answer why. Not right now and definitely not right here. “I haven’t been avoiding you.” He knew he was whispering but he also knew there were more listening ears then just yours, mainly Cassians. Azriel watched as Cassian scooped you up and walked back to where he was herding you, just moments before you veered off on your own. 

As the shadowsinger and spymaster of the night court there wasn’t much, if anything, that made him nervous. The piercing stare of your gaze following his every move was definitely unsettling. But his male ego wouldn’t let him slip into that unflinching state of mind that he would usually find himself in when sparring. Now he was keenly aware of each move he was making while in front of you. His need to impress didn’t go unnoticed by his brother. Thankfully Cassian decided to have mercy on his soul and let him get in a few good punches as his repayment for when Cassian did the same to him while in front of Nesta. 

The daily sparring session was over sooner and also later then he wanted it to be. One part of him wanted to continue to impress you, even if he wasn’t a hundred percent sure that you were even impressed in the first place. The other part of him just really wants to get the awaiting conversation over with. Azriel headed over the bench where his long forgotten shirt and water bottle had been previously placed. He had barely gotten in one drink of water when you appeared in front of him. “Why have you been avoiding me?” It was the same question that you had previously asked him before being dragged away by Cassian. And yet this time it made him even more nervous then the first time you had asked him. The last thing Azriel ever wanted to do was make you feel like he didn’t want to be around you. Even before the bond he wanted to be around you every chance he could get and you knew that. He needed a reason you would believe. A downfall that came with spending all of his spare time with you is that you were able to tell when he was lying better than anyone else in the inner circle. There was only one thing he could tell you that wasn’t the full truth nor a complete lie. Rhys wasn’t a fan of the relationship, or lack thereof, between the two of us and he needed to step back in respect for Rhysand. 

Thankfully the mother was on his side that morning because you believed him. 

Opening up his arms in a form of some peace offering he’s quickly wrapped in your arms. Even though hugging anyone who was sweaty was something that he knew drove you crazy you did it anyways and it warmed his heart. But watching you place your chin on top of his chest just about made his heart melt. He prayed that you wouldn’t be able to feel or hear just how fast his heart is beating, and it is not from the training. 

Oh how Azriel wished he could go back in time to just a few days ago. Hell he would even go back to when he was avoiding you. Truthfully anything would be better than what was currently unraveling in front of him. 

“How long have you known?” Azriel tore his eyes away from Morr to look at you. The look of heartbreak that painted your face was like a suckerpunch to his gut. He took a sharp breath in. You were always stunning in Azriels eyes but looking at you now was like looking like a fallen angel. As much as the poetic beauty was undeniable he also never wanted to see that look on your face again. He would do anything to make you trust him again. 

“I-” Azriel didn’t realize just how dry his throat was until he tried speaking. Actually now that he was focused on his body he was pretty sure he felt like he was going to throw up. Swallowing he takes another deep breath. A quick glance to his right reveals Rhysand with a raised eyebrow and barely contained anger. “I’ve known since the war.” Azriel always imagined this moment would be very different. Just the two of you in private. And it would finally feel like a brick being lifted off of his chest. 

But watching your reaction to his confession felt like the opposite. He watched as you blew out a heavy breath and grabbed the back of Morrigians chair for support. Looking at the look he watches a tear finally free itself and makes its way to the ground. Just as quickly as the first tear had fallen the rest had also followed suit. He watches as you shake your head and look at your brother for the answer of what you are supposed to do. The dining room had never been as quiet as it was in these waking moments and Azriel despised it. Even if he was the cause of it. “You’ve known for almost a year and you never told me?” The spymaster watched as you fought against the lump in your throat only for your voice to crack on the last word. “Were you ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to let me continue to dream about the love I desired. Let me think I was never going to get the love Rhys and Fey have? You’ve known for months!”  Azriel sat unmoving as your betrayal turned to sadness and then anger. You had never raised your voice and yelled at him before but he knew he deserved every ounce of anger you threw at him. “You-you out of all people knew how I felt about mates and yet you held this from me. My mate! I-I-I -oh my god.” Time seemed to slow down in that moment as he watched you grab your chest in pain then collapse to the floor. He felt himself rise. Azriel wasn’t sure why, was it to move to the other side of the table and comfort you? Was it in shock? Fear for your breaking heart? He wasn’t sure. It was like slow motion as Mor swiftly twisted out of her seat and caught your limp body on the way down to the floor. Together the two females sat on the floor. Morrigian had wrapped her arms around your body and held you pressed against her chest as you sobbed. 

“Azriel!” That was the commanding voice of a high lord. The force of which Rhysand said his name and allowed his power to wash over him was the only thing capable of pulling his focus off of your crumpled body. Looking back to his right he notes that Rhysand has pushed the chair he was previously sitting in far behind him. It didn’t go unnoticed how Feyre made her way to you with urgency. The primal anger and need to protect his family also didn’t go unnoticed by the shadowsinger. He was about to get his ass beat. If not altogether killed. Rhysand may have been mad at Cassian for hurting you but he did go easy on him, even if it resulted in a few nasty bruises littering his body. Azriel knew for sure this would be nothing like that time. Rhysand had a look of death in his eyes and Azriel was sure death was waiting to greet him. 

“Uh oh. Yeah you guys may want to get out of here it's about to get ugly.” Cassian also stood from where he was once seated and began stretching. Noting Feyres' worry Cassian continued “Don’t worry I won’t let them hurt each other too much.” He paused, “Well I won’t let them kill each other.” 

Only after everyone except Mor and Cassian had winnowed away his Rhysand lunge at Azriel. 

Ever since learning that you were his mate one of his shadows followed you religiously. He never even told them to do that, it was just something they did naturally. His shadows always were ones to keep an eye on you even if you were completely safe. 

That's how he found himself in front of the river house. His shadows danced around him in warning of the two females sitting in the living room still awake at this hour. Without looking at a clock Azriel would assume it was around three in the morning. Gently he pushes the hard oak door open only closing it after allowing himself inside the quiet house.  Azriel knew he could make his way to your room without either one of the females knowing but he assumed it was better to get everything that could tear him apart over with while he was down. 

“I feel bad for her. I know what it's like when the other person knows they're your mate and you're left in the dark. But this is something else. If Mor hadn’t said anything would he?” He could hear the voice of his concerned high lady. “Do we know if she even still has a mate? Rhysand looked like he was going to kill him.” Nestas' voice that usually dripped in sarcasm was dry as bone. Stepping into the room he made his footsteps louder than he would ever step to announce his presence. A sharp gasp was the only noise that Feyre made as she brought her hands to cover her mouth. “Oh my gods” The scraping of the chair against the wooden floor pulls his gaze from the spot on the floor he found particularly interesting to see Feyre making her way over to him. Over her shoulder he could see Nesta taking inventory of the damage Rhysand caused. “Are you ok?” He shrugs off her question but allows her gentle hands to move his head from side to side.

“How is she?” Everybody knew who he was talking about. Feyre led him to the couch ushering him to sit down as Nesta answered “As well as you can expect.” Feyre had stepped out of the room to grab a pain relieving tonic “She just fell asleep a few minutes before you got here” she pushes the vial into his hands “Drink” she insists. “I never meant for it to go like this. For it to get this far without me telling her. I just was waiting for her to feel it herself but then I just kept waiting and waiting and waiting and the next thing I knew I was sitting at that table listening to Mor tell her. I promise I never meant to hurt her. You know that right? You have to believe me.” The constant throbbing throughout his body finally forced him to drink the tonic in hopes it could even touch the pain he was feeling. “I’m sure you never meant for this to happen az. But why didn’t you just tell her. Anyone with eyes could see that she already had feelings for you.’’

“I wanted it to be her choice. I would never force her to accept the bond. All I want is for her to be happy no matter what.” A heavy sigh fell from both females before the peaceful silence filled the room. Nesta was the first to leave in hopes of getting at least an hour of sleep before she needed to be awake for training. With a gentle squeeze of his arm Feyre stands above him “I Believe you Az. But you need to understand how hurt she is currently feeling.” looking up he sees not his high lady or Rhysands mate but a concerned friend. “I know I can feel it through the bond.” Feyre smiles sadly before stopping in the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Go be with her Az. You both need it.”

The warmth of the fire was the first thing Azriel noticed upon entering your room. Although fae ran warmer than humans you were the rare exception. Unless absorbing heat from the sun or another person you were on average at least ten degrees colder than anyone else. A small smile found its away to his face to see the fire going. His own personal relationship with fire may be nonexistent but for you he would endure it a hundred times over. The next thing he noticed was your sniffling and quiet sobs. In three large strides he was kneeing besides your bed. “Y/n” you name was like a whisper of a prayer in a silent coven meant for worship. He watched as your eyes opened to meet his and listened as a sob racked your body. “I am so sorry baby” Quickly he raised from where he was previously knelt on the floor and climbed into bed with you. The move to place your body on top of his was easy but listening to the silent cries of your heart breaking wasn’t. “I never meant to hurt you I swear.” 

Eventually the tears raining upon his chest and was replaced with the gentle breathing of your sleeping form. Azriel knew he should sleep but he couldn’t help but admire every part of you just in case this was the last time he  got to hold you like this. That's why he wasn’t startled when Rhysand barged into your room, startling you awake. “I told you to stay away from her. I’m going to kill you.” He promised. Azriel didn’t take his eyes off of your brother as you raised to sit in between his legs. Rhysand could do whatever he wished but Azriel wouldn’t leave without making sure you were ok first. “Rhys don’t. You may be mad at him, but Azriel is my mate.” The bond had never sung in happiness like it did basking in the warmth of your acknowledgement.

Taglist

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@olive-main @mariahoedt @tele86 @marina468 @fangirlloza010 @kennedy-brooke

[forgottenrian]

OOC | Rían & Cassandra

so!! honestly i think rian's idea of marrying guin is a pipedream if he wants daddy's support in that (tho ngl running off w her or marrying her two seconds are roderick dies or smth are ~not off the table as far as he's concerned, thanks to her claim!) BUT there is a varmont princess roderick ~might consider wedding to him (tho idk if he'd actually go through w it or not tbqh!) and that's our cassandra! lbr itd be a TOTAL disaster and im guessing @forgottenmarian would v much have other ideas on that one hahahaha but anyway!!! he ticks boxes for ~roderick's requirements:

royal/king (since he was the firstborn male as far as roderick's concerned pre!roderick, he should've been monarch, not eilia) and thus roderick assumes he'd come w the support of the most powerful single country roderick's got/that it might help bend fences w the angry astairans (he is ofc quite wrong im sure, but!)

he's bent the knee (this does come w the backhand that roderick will never respect him but w the positive that he's a male of royal blood whose still alive and not a direct relative lakjsdfkjsdf)

he's clever, capabale, and obdenient to roderick

so yeah!! that's all pr good as far as roderick's concerned!! if he were to do this, he'd wanna give him smth much bigger than one single lordship, since roderick's own grandson would stand to inherit whatever rian has etc etc etc and that has to be sufficiently grand if roderick's bloodline will be there etc etc etc but yeah!! being real, i def think marian could easily dissuade roderick from this notion, so idk that this would ever transpire, but ~he would be all for it, even when their personalities inevitably clash lakjsfjkdsf bc lbr itd def tip roderick's bid towards rian being named roderick's stewart of all astaira when he inevitably moves on to conquer the next thing lkajsdklfjdsf but anyway!!! laksdjfkljdsf

[iamanartichoke]

I still don't understand the "you were both born to be kings" thing Odin said. Loki of Jotunheim presumably but then why tell a kid that and have him purposefully misinterpret it? And I've seen some argue that age had nothing to do with it but they keep reinforcing that Thor is the "first born" and I've seen interviews where they say the fact Thor is older means he's in line for the throne? Sorry for the rant but I've been trying to figure this out since like 2011.

In order to have it all make sense to me, in my head, I've always interpreted that line - and, by extension, Asgard's ruling hierarchy - to function in much the same way that real monarchies do (or have, in the past). That is, in a ruling family, the first born (son, usually, but occasionally a daughter if she had no male siblings) was automatically the heir and would take the throne in the event anything happened to the king (or queen). After the first born, the line follows chronologically so the next oldest would be second in line, the third oldest third in line, and so on.

However, if the original heir has children, then the line changes and the heir's children become second, third, etc in line, and the heir's younger siblings fall further back. If all of the blood heirs die without leaving behind children, then the throne would go to the next closest blood relative (I think) and the line would follow that family.

Depending on how patriarchal Asgard is and how far back in human history we go, if the oldest child is a girl, she falls behind the first-born son of the family. If Asgard functioned that way, then Hela would not actually have a claim to the throne above Thor - it would go to Thor, then Loki, and then Hela. (To put it in perspective, when Henry VIII died, Edward became king despite still being a child and both Mary and Elizabeth being older. Once Edward died, only then did the line go to the women - first Mary, as the older sibling, and then to Elizabeth after Mary died.) But that's just if you headcanon that Asgard was particularly patriarchal (which tbh I think it is, but that's just me).

Now, whether or not the writers/tptb intended for Asgard to work this way is unknown, but I interpret it this way bc to me, it makes the most sense and anything else becomes kinda convoluted. It would explain why Thor is first in line to be king and, as such, Odin's first choice over Loki, but it also explains the "you were born to be kings" line, if you interpret it as "you are both born royal and you both have the potential to rule, should it work out that way." To go back to the previous example (I just like the Tudor period a lot, so it's what popped into my head), if Henry VIII told Mary, Elizabeth, and Edward, "you were born to rule," then he wouldn't necessarily be wrong or misleading. Each of them has the potential to rule and would be capable of doing so, should they find themselves on the throne. (And, ultimately, each of them did.) I feel like it's the same concept with Thor and Loki.

Of course, historically, what made kings and queens "legitimate" was the belief that they were chosen and appointed by God to rule, so saying "you were born for this" would imply not only the potential to rule but also the idea that being born royal meant that they had been chosen for their role by a power higher than that of humans. So, again, if there was a similar belief on Asgard - that the norns, for example, appointed Odin's bloodline to be the ruling line, then again, Odin't assertion that Thor and Loki were both born to be kings isn't wrong. They were born with royal blood and, by extension, they had been chosen by a higher power and it was their right to rule. In that sense, it doesn't matter who's older or how the line goes; what matters is that Thor and Loki are both in the line.

So that's how I have always understood it to work - but, again, this is my interpretation and there's not necessarily anything in the canon that supports it unequivocally. That being said, because I interpret it this way, I also never felt that Loki misunderstood what Odin meant when he said both sons were born to be kings. Nor do I feel that Odin was being purposefully misleading. As a royal child, Loki would know and understand how the line works and also how divine right works (assuming they've got a similar belief). To me, I always felt like it was more a matter of wanting to be seen just as worthy as Thor so that, if Loki did end up on the throne, he would get the same respect, admiration, and support as Thor would. In other words, Loki knows ("knows," at this point) that both he and Thor are of royal blood and have the ability and the right to rule, so Loki sitting on the throne shouldn't be any different or "less" than Thor sitting on it. And yet, it was different and it was different for no real reason except that Asgard - including their family and friends - viewed Loki as inherently lesser than Thor due to how different he was from Thor and from what a "man" should be, societally speaking.

If that makes sense?

[cereza15love]

Zelink is possible after Majora's Mask

I  have been thinking about this for a long time, so I have decided to  share my ideas of how this pairing is possible. This will be a large  text but I hope you enjoy. I'm  going to start with the time between MM and TP. I think that there are  hundreds of years between Majora's Mask and Twilight. I say this  because:

a) The Zoras live  hundreds of years and in Twilight Princess we can see that have passed  many generations of Zoras, because they look very different to the ones  in Ocarina of Time and Majora's Mask.

b)  Hyrule has changed too much and it's unlikely that it has happened in  100 years or less. And also I say this because in other games like BOTW,  100 years have passed in Hyrule and almost nothing changed.

So,  the point of this is: It really doesn't matter who OoT Link stayed with  to define the fate of TP Link, since many generations have passed and  therefore, the families has to be separated and too many things could  have happened. I say this because many people think that TP Link being  rancher it's a key factor in determining who stayed with OoT Link, but I  think that it isn't true. And next I'm going to explain my theory of  how TP Link could have ended in Ordon. As  we can see, Link is the only hylian in Ordon so it's very probably that  him or his family weren't from there, like inmigrants. But then, where  is Link's family from? First of all, they have to be from Hyrule because  they are hylians and Ordon is a province. I know a place that appears  in Twilight Princess and it was unoccupied, I´m referring to...  Snowpeak´s Ruins! Why I am saying this? Because it looks that the people  that lived there knew about Ordon, so it wouldn't be unreasonable that  when that place became uninhabitable, they went to live in Ordon. Many  people thought that the Snowpeak's ruins were Ashei's home, but that is  false because Ashei doesn't recognize that place, so other people lived  there and I think that it was Link's family. That would explain why Link  is the only hylian, he isn't the owner of the Ordon Ranch, his house is  separate of the village and he isn't relative to the mayor or the  people in Ordon. Well, now I'm  going to explain how Link have Epona and he knows the Epona's Song. And  it's easy to explain. The first point is that isn't necessary that TP  Epona be descendant of OoT Epona, think of this, it´s an animal and we  can found many horses of the same color, so it´s easy to think that Link  or his family found it in any place. Other posibility is that Epona has  its own spirit that reappears at different times, like Link and Zelda  and even other characters. Or we can think in a situation similar to TP  manga, where is mentioned that Epona isn't a mare of the ranch and in  reality is a mare from the militia, in this case, like an heritage from  the people that lived in the Snowpeak's ruins. Now about Epona's song, I also thought in different possibilities:

1. OoT  Link taught that song to his descendence. In Majora's Mask we see that  Romani teaches Link that song and he remembered it. It's easy to think  that he do the same thing with his children and more if he has the   Ocarina of Time and Epona.

2. Malon  taught that song to other people, because she sang that song all the   time and for sure many people visited the ranch. What if that song   became sort of popular in Hyrule? And that is how Link's family heard   that song. Or what if a descendant of Malon taught that song to a   descendant of Link? We can use all of our imagination.

3. Epona's song in Twilight Princess is only the reuse to the soundtrack and isn't very relevant.

I think that I already talked all about TP Link, now I'm going to talk about OoT Link. I'm  going to start when he went back in time. We know that Link told Zelda  and the royal family about everything that happened in Ocarina of Time,  I'm not going to talk about that very much, but I'd like to cite the  intro of Majora´s Mask: " In the land of Hyrule, there echoes a legend. A  legend held dearly by  the Royal Family tells of a boy... A boy who,  after  battling evil and  saving Hyrule, crept away from the land that  made him a legend...  ". With this we can realize that the royal family  knew about Link's feats and with this he gained the trust of the royal  family. Also we can see this when Zelda give him the Ocarina of Time and  when she mentions:   "I'll never forget the days we spent together in  Hyrule...". That means that Link and Zelda got along very well and  probably the royal family approved this. They were so close that even  Zelda mentions: " And I believe in my heart that a day will come when I  shall meet you again...  ". With all of this, it's sure that Link and  Zelda met again after Majora's Mask and probably it was a very happy  meeting. Also, I don´t see impossible that they have been able to  develop something more than a friendship after a time. Now  I'm going to talk about Hero's Shade. We see that he has an armor, so  probably he became a knight so for sure he spent so much time in the  castle and he was able to spend a lot of time with Zelda. And also I  noticed something interesting about his armor. It looks fancy and it´s  very similar to the Magic Armor that we see in TP, which coincidentally  looks like a male version of Zelda's clothes. It can be a proof that  indicates that OoT Link became noble or royality. Other  thing that I found interesting from Hero's Shade are the Howling  Stones, which have Sheikah symbols. It´s know that the Sheikah are very  closely to the royal family, so the fact that Link uses these stones to  pass his songs and skills means that he was close to the Sheikah and  this can be possible if he ended up being part of the royal family. Here  is where I'm going to relate the Snowpeak's ruins with Link and Zelda  from OoT. The Snowpeak´s looks like their owners were militaristic, a  fact that we can relate to Hero's Shade, and we see that is a luxury  mansion but there is something most important that we can relate with  Zelda and it is... there are symbols in the mansion that also appears in  Hyrule Castle. So... that indicates that the owners of that mansion are  related to the royal family. My think about this is: Any descendant of  Link and Zelda from Ocarina of Time lived there.  I think that Link and  Zelda or any of their decendents could have had at least two children,  one of them would inherit the crown while the other could become more  independent and give rise to the family that lived in the Snowpeak's  ruins. My conclusion about all of this is: The  Hero of Time and Princess Zelda could end up together after the events  of Majora's Mask. They had children, one of them would inherit the  throne along with their offspring, meanwhile any descendant built the  mansion from the Snowpeak and lives there with his family.  Unfortunately, a catastrophe occurred which caused them to go live to a  more peaceful place, which would be Ordon. It took many years for the  families to separate long enough to give birth to Link and Zelda from  Twilight Princess, to such an extent that the blood bond between them  has been lost.

I think that is  all. I hope you liked it. And if you have more ideas for this beautiful  pairing, I invite you to write them in the comments. Zelink 4ever  <3!!!

Note: English isn´t my native language, so I'm sorry if anything is badly written n.n"

[lailoken]

‘Heathen Survivals’

“In Scotland, as in other parts of the British Isles, the conversion to Christianity was largely led by foreign saints who were of noble birth or royal descent. They converted the tribal kings who then forced the new religion onto their subjects. For this reason the process was resisted by the lower class, and even by some members of the ruling power elite. The Chronicle of Lonecast recorded that as late as the 13th century Father John, the parish priest of Inverkiething, seduced young village girls so they danced wantonly around an ithyphallic stone idol. He allegedly 'stirred them to lust and [to] use filthy language' while leading a procession around the churchyard holding aloft a representation of 'the male organ of generation' on top of a pole. At Loch Mournie in the 17th century the local minister condemned his practitioners for continuing to practice the pagan ritual of sacrificing bulls. Twenty years later Hector Mackenzie of Mellon, his two sons and his grandson were summoned before a session of the kirk (church) elders to explain why they had killed a bull on their farm "in ane heathenish mannere". In his defense Mackenzie told the elders the sacrifice was an attempt to recover the health of his sick wife. It was not recorded who the animal was sacrificed to.

In 1650 a woman was called to account before the kirk elders for killing and burying a lamb under the threshold of a house, a magical liminal place. She told them she had sacrificed one of her flock of new-born lambs, the healthiest, so the rest would be protected from disease. When Isobel Young was charged with sorcery in 1692 for burying a live ox, her son told the court it was common husbandry practice and nothing to do with witchcraft. In a program broadcast at Hallowe'en 2009 the local radio station on the Isle of Lewis mentioned a letter written by a 17th century visitor to the island calling on the laird and the church to outlaw 'barbaric customs' at that time of year. The writer said he had seen a bull sacrificed and its blood spilt on the earth and ritual bonfires blazing on every hill. (Letter from Linda Fallows to author 31.10.2009)

On the Isle of Mull disease broke out in the herds of cattle in 1767. It was decided to take drastic measures to deal with the outbreak. A need- fire was lit on a hilltop without the use of flint and by friction between two pieces of wood. 'Need' is from the Old English niedfyr and the Old German nieten, meaning 'to churn'. The fire had to be lit before moonrise and during its lighting an old man chanted an incantation. Then a sick heifer was sacrificed and the diseased part of the animal was cut out and burnt on the need-fire. The rest of the good meat was then cooked and eaten by all those present as the fire gradually burnt down.

An ancient druidic cure for epilepsy still practiced in the Highlands at the beginning of the 20th century required the sacrifice ofa black cockerel. A hole was dug near to where the patient had experienced their last fit. The bird was buried alive while an incantation was read out calling on the earth to "swallow the evil". Shortly afterwards the sufferer would recover and, it was claimed, would have no more fits during their life.

In 1909 when a farmer died on Orkney his grieving family sacrificed his prize heifer. This was said to be an offering to the hogboy or hogboon, from the Norwegian haug-bui or haug-buinn meaning 'mound dweller'. This was the Norse term for a tutelary or guardian spirit associated with ancient burial mounds. Sometimes the hogboy was believed to be the shade or earthbound spirit of a former owner of the nearby farmstead or the ancestral founder of the family concerned. They remained earthbound to watch over their property, land and descendants and to monitor the progress of the estate down the generations.

In the 18th century Martin Martin said that the inhabitants on the Isle of Lewis still performed sacrifices to an ancient sea-god called Shoni or Shoney on Hallowe'en (October 31s). They brewed a special beer and after sunset threw cups of it into the sea. Afterwards everyone went to the local kirk and sat in the pews in silence while a candle was lit on the altar. This candle had to burn down and go out before they would leave. The rest of the night was then spent in the fields drinking, eating, singing and dancing. It was believed this ritual would ensure a good crop of seaweed used as fertilizer on the fields and therefore a bountiful harvest for the next year.

In the Hebrides St Michael, the patron saint of horses, horsemen and boats, was spoken of in the 19th century as "the god Michael". On the saint's feast day of Michaelmas (September 29th), a special bannock or oat cake was baked inside a lamb's skin. It was then blessed at a special Mass by the priest and dedicated to the saint. It was also a traditional custom on the same day to hold horse races and, unusually, both men and women participated in these events.

As well as blood sacrifices there was also a folk tradition of making offerings to the genii loci, the 'spirits of a place' or nature spirits, that inhabited the countryside. In 1697 when Martin Martin was travelling through Scotland he said country people still held pre-Christian beliefs. Although they claimed to outsiders that they were God-fearing pious folk, secretly they believed the hills were inhabited by spirits and made offerings to them. These entities could appear in an instant from their natural hiding places whenever they wanted to startle a passing traveller.

In January 1657 at Cullen in Forfarshire Margaret Philp was arrested on a charge of practising witchcraft. Her servant, Isobel Imblaugh, who may have been related to Philp's husband as they shared the same surname, testified she had seen her mistress have dealings with a spirit taking the form of a talking hare. Imblaugh said she had seen Philp put out a bannock, a jug of beer and a piece of meat for the sprite and the next morning it was all gone. On another occasion the spirit-hare had allegedly entered the house through an open window and drank the beer left out for it in a bowl. In the 19th century superstitious Highlanders left offerings of milk at 'fairy hills' (prehistoric burial mounds) and standing stones for the faeries known as brownies.

Aspects of pagan moon worship also survived in folk magic and folk customs. People believed warts could be cured by a simple ritual at new moon. When its crescent was first seen in the night sky a handful of soil was taken from under the right foot of the sufferer. This was then made into a paste using the affected person's saliva and spread over the infected part of the skin. This was then covered with a dressing and left until the lunar disc had waxed to full and then waned again. It was removed when the crescent of the next new moon was seen in the sky. It was said that this procedure was always successful in removing the blemish. Unmarried women also performed a ritual at the new moon to divine who their future lovers or husbands would be. When they could see the lunar crescent in the sky they sat astride a gate or stile without any underwear on. They then recited the following charm:

'All hail to thee the moon, All hail to thee, I privy good moon, declare to me, This very night, who my husband shalt be'

Various wells and springs all over Scotland were visited until comparatively recent times for healing purposes. Many of these places were said to have specific properties to heal diseases and illnesses in a throwback to pre-Christian times. For instance any well dedicated to St Tegla was claimed to be able to cure the 'falling sickness', probably dizziness caused by fluctuating blood pressure levels. St John's Well at Balmanno in Kincardshire was frequented by parents taking their children to be cured of rickets, a once common disease caused by malnutrition. St Kilda's Well cured deafness and drinking the waters of Trinity Well in Perthshire was reputed to be able to cure even the so- called Black Death, or bubonic plague.

St Fillan's Well near Tyndwell in Perthshire was visited by those suffering from mental illness. They were first dipped in the water by their carers and then taken to a nearby chapel. Once inside they were tied up and the chapel's bell was placed on top of their heads. The patient was then left in this uncomfortable and rather undignified position overnight. When their relatives returned the next morning at dawn they were supposed to have been cured.

Another well used to try and cure the mentally ill was situated on the isle of St Maelrubla on Loch Moree in Ross and Cromarty. Near the well was a tree where pilgrims hammered coins into its trunk as offerings to the saint or the spirit of the well. There were also the remains of a stone altar on the island allegedly used by the druids to sacrifice bulls on in ancient times. When St Columba arrived in the area he reconsecrated it to the Christian faith.

People suffering from depression, anxiety, or other mental problems were rowed out to the island in boats. Just before reaching landfall they were thrown out into the shallow water and then dragged by ropes the rest of the way to the shore. Once at the well they were forced to drink the water and a piece of their clothing was cut off and hung from one of the branches of the tree. An offering of a coin was then made by hammering it into the trunk. It was said that the well's healing properties were negated when a shepherd threw his mad dog into it. This apparently caused the spirit who inhabited the well to leave.

Some of the holy wells were only potent at certain times of the year. One example was at Craigie, which only possessed healing properties on the first Sunday in May. Its waters were said to be a powerful antidote to all known diseases, malefic witchcraft and the baleful influence of the Good People or faery folk. Crowds gathered at the well and colored threads and scraps of clothing were hung on the shrubs and rocks surrounding it.Other wells were given offerings of pins, needles or coins in a far memory of the sacrifices given to water deities in pagan times.

The prehistoric megalithic monuments of Scotland still retained their special nature after the conversion to the new religion. An ancient custom of holding legal courts at stone circles for settling property and land disputes survived into historical times. The bishop of Aberdeen held one at the Ring of Peddles and a nobleman called William de Saint Michael was summoned to attend it. He was asked to explain why he had seized some property from the Catholic Church. Forty years later the son of King Robert II of Scotland held a special court at a stone circle and called the bishop of Moray to justify why he was making a claim on some land at Badenoch. This ancient custom also survived in Wales. In the 1980s a man asked a council official to meet him on neutral ground at the Pentre Ifan cromlech near Newport in Pembrokeshire to discuss a longstanding property disagreement.

Following the conversion of the pagan Scots prehistoric sites like stone circles, standing stones and burial mounds were popularly believed to be the meeting places of witches, the haunts of spirits of the ancestral dead, and the habitat of faeries, elves and goblins. One witch was seen to regularly visit a local standing stone for unknown purposes of a magical nature. Another, Helen Rogie of Lumpahana, was accused of building a cairn or pile of stones on a hilltop for the practice of alleged 'devil worship.' She was probably making offerings to, or doing rituals involving, the genii loci.

In 1649 the male witch Andro or Andrew Man was accused of setting up a stone as an idol. He was seen to perform a "superstitious ceremony", taking off his hat to bow to it. In his defense Man claimed it was only a boundary stone marking the edge of his land and the beginning of his neighbor's. This is interesting in itself as in prehistoric times standing stones were often erected for just this purpose, to divide one tribe's land from another's. Such boundary makers were also regarded as having a magical liminal significance. The kirk refused to accept Man's explanation and decided he was performing some kind of “heathenish practice". He was ordered to break the stone into four pieces.

One of the earliest recorded examples of witchcraft in Scotland was in the 2nd century CE when King Natholocus consulted a famous witch living on the sacred island of Iona. The King had just lost an important battle with a rebel army who were trying to overthrow him. He sent a messenger to the witch to ask her advice about what he should do next. Unfortunately after consulting the spirits she predicted the King would be murdered. This dastardly deed would not be carried out by one of his enemies, but by somebody close to him who he trusted.

The King's messenger demanded to know by whose treacherous hand his master would be killed. The witch gave a mocking laugh and replied; "Even thine, so shalt be well known within these few days." The man returned to court in some distress and at first he was reluctant to pass the witch's prediction to the King. He thought if he told the truth the King would put him to death. However, if he kept it secret one of the others present might tell the King anyway. Only one possible alternative was left. Just as the witch had predicted, he entered the King's bedchamber during the night and stabbed him dead while he slept.

St Patricus or Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland, was a 5th century Romano-British subject allegedly kidnapped by Irish pirates and sold as a slave to the king of the Dalriada tribe in Scotia. However an alternative story says that Patrick was forced to flee from his home country of Scotland to Ireland after being attacked by the witches of Dumbarton. He fled in a boat across the sea to escape them as he knew the dark sisterhood were unable to cross water. 

During the 7th century King Kenneth became so concerned at the widespread practice of witchcraft and wizardry in his Scottish kingdom that he passed a new law condemning its practitioners to death. Three hundred years later King Duffus (who reigned from 962 to 966), the son of King Malcolm I, fell ill with a mysterious malady and began to physically fade away. His physicians could not help him and they began to believe some form of witchcraft was involved in the ruler's dramatic and potentially fatal decline in health.

A few days after the King became ill word reached the court that a number of witches had been gathering nearby to magically bring his death. A young girl who worked in the royal kitchens had been overheard threatening Duffus' life. The governor of Forres Castle immediately ordered her to be arrested and interrogated about the alleged plot. She named her own mother as the head of a witches' coven casting spells against the sick King. As a result of the servant girl's confession several women including her mother were detained. They were caught red- handed in the act of roasting a wax image representing the King over a fire. Once the image had been destroyed and the witches summarily executed the King recovered his health.”

—

Scottish Witches and Warlocks

by Michael Howard

[shelby-love]

WRONGLY COURTED | A. BRIDGERTON

“Diamond of the season” - Derived from “diamond of the first water” an exceptionally beautiful young woman. In this case, the most beautiful woman of the season.

“The Season” -  A period from April to August when it was customary for the country’s elite families to unite for balls, dinner parties, decked in their finest attire. The season was also the time to launch children of a ‘marriageable’ age – from the nobility and gentry – into society as debutantes.

“Duke/Duchess” - The title of Duke was given to the highest ranking peers of English nobility below the Royal Family. A duke is the ruler of a dukedom or duchy. If the dukedom is an independent country, its leader may be called a grand duke. Originally all English dukes were of royal blood.  

“Marquess/Marchioness” - After the duke, a marquess is the next highest rank. A marquess is effectively the earl of an important border county (also known as a march). Since securing the border was such an important job, the rank of marquess is often considered superior to earl or count. In ‘Wrongly Courted’ the reader’s father is the 6th Marquess of Cambridge.

“Baron/Baroness” - Typically the largest number of titles, a title after a viscount and therefore the lowest rank. Barons were the basic building block of feudal land ownership; holding land in barony meant that they acted on the king's behalf to own a chunk of land. Barons are not actually called barons, but are rather called Lord or Lady.    

“Dancing two/three times” - A couple shouldn’t dance more than two dances together, for example, or they would be the talk of the neighbourhood. Any more than two dances, and a lady’s reputation would be under attack. Dancing three times is basically announcing that the pair is engaged! Also, at a dance, a lady could simply not ask an unknown gentleman to waltz with her, no matter how handsome he looked. Rather, the pair needed to be formally introduced before they could take to the dancefloor.

“Chaperone” - An advocate for a young, unmarried woman in simple words. A debutante would be chaperoned by her mama. When a young lady did not have a mama, she may have looked for one to help launch her into Society, preferably one of rank and circumstance (e.g. Marina Thompson). A chaperone was not always necessarily one individual, like a companion. A young lady may live comfortably at home without a chaperone, as long as she was not present in Society. A chaperone for walks could be a maid, groom, relative, or anyone who could temporarily safeguard a young woman’s reputation. In “A Fair Match” the housekeeper Arabella is, though not mentioned, always a few steps behind the reader and Lord Thorne. ;)  

“Curtsy” - A form of greeting for females; the equivalent to the male bow; usually done with an outward bend of the knees with one foot placed behind the other while holding the dress away from the body

“A rake” - As Rege once said “A rake is a regency fuck boy.”, but in nicer words a rake is a man who was habituated to immoral conduct, particularly womanizing. Often, a rake was also prodigal, wasting his (usually inherited) fortune on gambling, wine, women and song, and incurring lavish debts in the process.

“A fortnight” - A time period of two weeks.

[thesimkingdoms]

FROM THE JOURNAL OF QUEEN FLEUR-FALL 1542

 Dear Diary,                                                                    

My cheek still strung with pain as I assured Akira that I was fine. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Baron Claude. Great. He had a front row seat to my attack and probably couldn’t wait to report back to Papa. In fact, I could hear my father’s voice inside my head as I ducked inside the palace. You think just because you’re a queen now that you’ll have their respect? Respect must be earned and you don’t have what it takes! In our guest bedroom, I barely had time to dry my tears before Edward  came in.

 Edward: Are you alright? They just told me what happened.

Fleur: We’ve fine.

E: Then why won’t you look at me?

Damn him!  Why can’t he let it be? F: You want the truth,  Edward? The baby’s fine, I however, am furious!

E: Don’t worry, the guards  escorted him out of the palace. I saw it myself.

F: That’s good, but I’m not furious with him. I’m furious are you!

E: Me? What did I do?

F: Do you know why I was hit?   I was hit because that man thought I  was Mary. He wouldn’t have thought  that   if Mary wasn’t still alive!

E:  You’re mad at me because I didn’t sentence Mary to  death?

F: (shrugs) Why not? It’s the law of every kingdom that when a queen comgmits treason, that queen is put to death!

E: But Mary didn’t commit treason. Treason would be plotting against me or plotting  to take my kingdom away from me. All Mary did was  fall in love with another man. It   wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t love me. Besides, any king who values his own pride over the needs of 3 helpless newborns is not a king I would like to meet!

 That took the anger right out of me. F: You’re right. I’m so sorry. I would  never wish anyone ill—will. It’s just  I always knew that I would marry but I thought I would marry a prince as we would ascend to the throne together. Or I  would at least the king’s 1st queen. But I’m not your 1st wife or your 1st queen.

 E:(softly)Why  do I get the feeling that this isn’t about Mary?

F: Because it’s  not. You know, ever since I can remember, I’ve wanted to do good in this world; to rule. This would have an impossible dream  if I was born a dairy maid or on a farm. But I’m not a farmer’s daughter, I’m a king’s daughter, and moreover, a king’s firstborn. But I was born into the kingdom. I have no rights; for the successions laws in Willow Creek are all Salic, that mean boys and boys only, as we both know. If anything, God forbid, should happen to my father and my brothers, the throne would go to  my next nearest male relative. A distant cousin of mine, who has never been to Willow Creek and possibly doesn’t even know he has royal blood, has more right to my father’s throne than I do.

E: And how does that made   you  feel?

I took a  step forward and looked Edward straight in the eye. F:  It makes me pretty damn angry. You know, I heard that the treasury of Willow Creek is pretty full compared to last year’s I have  no doubt that a good amount of that money comes from my dowry, but do I get so much as a thank you?  Of course not! When my  brothers get married, their wives will have to move to Willow Creek but I had to leave the only home I’ve ever known. My parents were no  help. You see, I was a very stubborn child. I asked them both many, many times why the boys were more important than me even though I was the oldest. My father called me unnatural for  even questioning it. My  mother called my behavior ‘unladylike’. They both made me feel like I was the only girl in the world who preferred books to needlework and  who didn’t love to debate who  had the shiniest hair ribbons. For a long time, I believed until I read your mother’s journals.

E: I’m so sorry, Fleur.

I needed a second to shallow my tears so I sat down. F: I always promised myself that I would never be just be an royal babymaker. Of course, now that I’m pregnant, you must think I’m a terrible person.

Edward sat beside me and took my hand. E: Not at all. If I’ve been in your shoes growing up, I would have felt that same way. Everyone needs a purpose in life. You just haven’t found yours yet, but you’re so young and bright, I know that you will, in addition to being a wonderful mother.

F: Thank you. I left to  take off my jewels and slip into  my nightgown. When I came back, Edward was on the bed, a stack of papers in his hand. F: What’s that? E: A speech I  have to make to parliament as soon as we get back. But no matter how much I rewrite this, it still not right. Would you mind taking a look? F: Edward, I don’t want pity. E: Good,   because  I don’t believe in pity. When I ask you for your opinion, it’s  because  I would like to   hear what you think. But I saw the red ink. F: Looks  like someone already helped you. E: Marianna  looked at it, but we  agree that the closing paragraph has the wrong tone. He encourage me to take paper so I did.

 Signed Fleur, Queen of Windenburg

[goodgodgodfrey]

Rebirth Part Nine | A Hemlock Grove Story

So, this was two years in the making. I am so so so so sorry I left this account behind without any explanation whatsoever. My life took an almighty bad turn and fell apart right before my eyes. I had an extreme rough patch with my mental health and I am extremely surprised I made it to the end of 2018. 2020 has been an horrendous year but I am back, I remembered my log in and I am ready to continue showing BIll all of the love! I hope the fandom can welcome me back with open arms! Many new fanfics and one shots to come, I promise! <3

Start the Rebirth saga here.

Tw; nakedness, self harm, blood, gore, dead Roman

Word count: 1760

 -

*flashback* 

It was late. Ana wasn’t sure how late, but the sky was dark, and the moon was bright. She awoke with a jolt, one hand gripping her chest, the other wrapped around her throat. Her breathing was staggered as pain ripped through her. Something had happened, something bad and it had rocked the universe. She pulled the blanket off her legs and swung them round, allowing her feet to hit the cold laminate flooring beneath her. The cold sent another jolt through her as her breathing steadied. Ana quickly turned and scrambled to find her cell phone, tapping the keys and pressing dial.

“Come on, come on, come on, pick up …” she said, anxiously, tapping both her feet on the floor. The dialling tone continued to ring out and ring out. With a dissatisfied grunt, Ana cancelled the call and threw her phone on her bed. “Dammit, looks like I’m taking a road trip!” She quickly threw some clothes and some supplies into a duffle bag, swapping her pyjamas for a knee length floaty dress, knee high socks and a pair of boots. She threw a cardigan around her shoulders and grabbed her cell phone and car keys from her bedside table. She threw everything into her trunk before speeding off away from her apartment. She drove for a couple of hours, the pitch-black night sky beginning to turning more royal blue as the moon left and the sun began to rise. As she past the sign welcoming her to Hemlock Grove, she slammed her foot down on her brake.

In front of her car was a wolf; a wolf with bright white fur, it’s teeth bared as it growled into her headlights. Ana’s eyes narrowed, falling on the giant red ball the wolf was holding between it’s teeth. A moment of realisation hit her. It wasn’t a ball, it was a heart. A human heart. The area around it’s mouth was stained pink.

“Oh shit …” she whispered to herself, eyes focused forwards. The wolf growled and began to slowly walk towards the car. “… Peter what have you done?” she whispered again, turning swiftly to get out of the car. From the pocket in her cardigan, she pulled out a handful of herbs. The wolf snarled, lowering its head towards the floor, preparing to pounce. Ana mumbled something under her breath before throwing the herbs towards the wolf. There was another growl, a whimper, a light thud as the heart dropped, followed by a larger thud as the wolf keeled over and hit the road. Ana quickly checked that the wolf had been completely knocked out before stepping forward. She collected the heart in her hand, a disgusted grunt escaping from between her lips. It was still relatively warm; it was fresh. Whoever this heart belonged too had only recently joined the realm of the dead. She got back to her feet, shuffling towards the boot of her car. With her spare hand, she opened the trunk and rummaged through her bag, pulling out a canopic jar. She dropped the heart into the jar before closing it and putting the jar back into the duffle bag.

“Now, what to do with you?” she mumbled under her breath, looking back over at the wolf which was now softly sleeping next to the front of her car. It took all of her strength to pull the wolf along the road and lift him into the back seat of her car. She placed another sprig of herbs by his nose, hoping it would keep him at bay. As she got back into her car, the hand which she had collected the heart, began to heat up, as if the blood it had left behind was boiling. With a swift intake of breath, she knew where to go. Her foot slammed down on the accelerator and she sped through the town of Hemlock. She was greeted with the sight of the Godfrey tower, billowing flames and smoke. Her stomach dropped as the realisation hit her that something big had gone down in this small Pennsylvanian town. As she pulled up to a large, extravagant looking mansion, her chest began to tighten. This was the place.

She slowed the car to a stop and got out, her eyes dodging around the area outside the front. As she wandered around, coming across nothing of suspicion, she turned on her heels and began to walk backwards. There was something not quite right. She could smell blood, a lot of it, but where was it coming from. As she took a step backwards, she tripped and fell, landing with a grunt onto her backside.

“What the …?” she said, lifting her grazed hand from the gravel. Her eyes fell upon a body, but not just any body. The body of the one and only Roman Godfrey, the youngest billionaire of Hemlock Grove. The guy who had taken over Godfrey Industries as a teenager. He was lying, on the gravelled exterior floor, his throat and heart ripped out. “Oh my god,” Ana shrieked, her hand almost subconsciously moving to cover her mouth. “Peter, what did you do?” she asked to herself. She removed her hand from her mouth, leaving behind a bloody handprint. Getting to her feet, she shook off the overwhelming feeling of darkness and death that surrounded her.

She stepped over Roman’s body and walked back to her car, flinging open the back seat. Her hands wrapped around the rear legs of the wolf as she began to pull the limp body of her cousins’ wolf form from the car. It hit the ground with a bump and was quickly followed by the sound of scratching gravel before coming to a halt next to Romans corpse. Ana removed the sprig of herbs from the wolf’s nose before running back to the trunk of her car.

Quickly, a pentagram was created of candles in the gravel. North. South. East. West. Spirit. Ana stripped herself down to her underwear before throwing an assortment of crystals around her neck. She sat down in the middle, crossing her legs and beginning to meditate. It could have been minutes or it could have been hours that Ana was sat inside the candle pentagram, the candles flickering and burning away. As the wolf began to stir, the flames flickered violently. Ana by this point was in such a deep trance, she did not notice, her lips were moving quickly, any words unintelligible. In order to save her cousin from life as a wolf, it would take an incredible amount of energy to channel the dark magic necessary.

The wolf staggered to its feet, shaking its head in order to rid itself of the fuzzy head the herbs had given him. It turned on its heels having caught a familiar scent and was met with five bright, flickering lights. A guttural growl began to grow in its chest, its head lowering as it prepared to pounce. Before the large wolf had a chance to pounce, Ana’s eye snapped open, her entire eyeball a faint grey colour; all colour from her iris and pupil completely gone. The wind grew, the candle flames flickering even more violently.

“Howls are heard from near and far,” Ana began to chant, her voice monotone, almost robotic.

“The moon shines on the pack. Running, howling, barking, fierce as the cold snow’

The wolf began to whine and howl in pain, writhing slowly. Ana slowly unfolded her legs, the trance she was in remaining still. She got to her feet and walked to the edge of the pentagram, where the wolf stood. She placed her hand on the wolfs face, palm flat against it’s nose.

“By the light of the moon and our piercing howls, you will become further from this cunning beast. From the circle of life to the evolution of man, you shall be reawakened as one with the land. Human once more, it shall be done!”

The wolf dropped with a short, high pitched whine. From within the side of her underwear, Ana retrieved a small knife. She lifted up her arm, placing the blade against it.

“Remus. Romulus. Capitoline. Mars. Take his curse and make it yours.” As she chanted, the blade ran down her arm, the blood dripping onto the fur of her cousins wolf form.

“Maketh the man, taketh the wolf, Maketh the man, taketh the wolf. Maketh the man, taketh the wolf.”

There was a crack of thunder and a gust of wind. Each candle flickered before extinguishing leaving nothing but the candle of the spirit. Another crack of thunder and a loud, guttural scream erupted from inside Ana, who fell to her knees. Her hand grabbed her throat as she struggled to breath. During her struggle, she did not notice the change her cousin was going through. His wolf form began to melt around him, disappearing into the gravel, leaving nothing but a blood stained and sticky, naked male form.

The urge to turn was growing inside her body like a burning sensation ripping apart each limb and muscle. The fight caused her to scream out in pain even louder, for longer. She fell onto her back, writhing into the gravel, hoping the physical pain on the outside would numb the burning sensation inside. The writhing became faster and more erratic, slowly turning into tranced fit.

“Ana? ANA!” came a male voice. Peter had come to, back in his human form, sticky and bloody. “Ana, Ana … fuck … come on…” he said as he grabbed the shaking body of his cousin. As the writhing got worse, Peter got to his feet and ran to the back of the car, rummaging through his cousins’ bag for anything that may help. He grabbed some of the herbs she had used to knock him out, running back to his cousins body and shoving it into her mouth. “Come on … chew it goddmit!” he said, panicked by the state his cousin was in. He was used to Destiny’s after spell exhaustion and fits but this was something else. It was like dark magic was ripping everything out of her. Ana made a few choking noises before rolling herself onto her side and throwing up a jet black, sticky goop.

“Ana ..” Peter said, rubbing her back. A few more coughs and splutters and Ana was sat bolt upright.

“It’s gone …” she said simply.

“What’s gone?” he replied, allowing her to place the palm of her hand on his cheek.

“The wolf!”

@fucking-hell-skarsgard

[nestasgalpal]

The voyage of the smuggler [Emeriel]

Part 2

Summary: Rhysand has been killed by his enemies from Hewn City, and Feyre has died with him because of a secret pact between them no one knew about. Keir, Rhysan’s only male relative, has inherited the crown of the Night Court and the High Lord’s magic, and he is taking revenge on each and every member of Rhysand’s Inner Circle one by one. Azriel’s been taken, and Emerie has only one chance to save him before he is executed in two days.

A/N: To the people who thought the last chapter had a lot of angst... sorry in advance. This is a long one.

*If you want to be added to the taglist let me know!

Azriel

Azriel’s cell under Hewn City hadn’t existed a year ago, when he was still the Spymaster of the Night Court. The space had been built in record time just for him, and the spymaster couldn’t help but wonder if Keir had given an order to create a personal nightmare for each member or Rhysand’s Inner Circle, or if it was just for him. The light was blinding and came from the ceiling. Not even his body could cast a shadow on the marble floor because of how intense it was. It felt like an endless noon, with the sun right above and not a shadow to be seen. The cell’s walls were not average either. They were not made of raw stone or bricks, it was a flat rock surface without any breaks or divisions where a tiny shadow could grow. He was absolutely powerless there.

“Maybe this is life’s way to punish me for my crimes” he thought. The white floor was so smooth he could get a glimpse of his own reflection. It was not neat, but he could still tell that his black hair was long enough to almost cover his eyes. 

That’s what gave him the idea.

Azriel knew for sure it had been less than a day since they shove him inside of the cubicle. His whole body was tense, eager to get out before he had the chance of discovering the variety of tortures Keir and his subjects had planned for him. To take revenge on him. Azriel had known a day might come in which he had to answer for all the pain he inflicted on others, and he had been ready to endure it. But now that his destiny was so close, he felt scared. He hadn’t thought he would feel that way when death lastly approached him, but he did. Because he had dreamed of his own life ending many nights, but in his reveries, Rhysand and Feyre were alive, Amren was alive, Mor and Cassian were safe, and Emerie was still a stranger who had recently befriended Nesta Archeron.

He realized with horror that he hadn’t dreamed about his final day coming since they met. Not once had the urge of punishing himself with self-inflicted nightmares come to him since Emerie forced herself into his life with her loud arrogance and big presence. He could only look forward, to what the next day by her side might bring.

The bright light of his cell didn’t allow him to sleep, so he didn’t even get the chance of trying to imagine her in the scenario. That was probably for the best. Azriel didn’t want her to see him when his life was taken from him, even if her face was the one thing he wished to see before his eyes were closed forever.

Azriel had always understood balance. He thived from it. His power was not darkness, like many people assumed, but the mastering of shadows; those that came from both obscurity and light. He was sure darkness would come into his cell sooner or later. They had built new spaces to torture them, sure, but the protocol of Hewn City’s prison was sill the same. He only had to wait and it would come to him.

“For how long?” he asked himself. They kept Amren there for a month, but Keir’s people would probably hold him for a longer time just to enjoy torturing him with no hurry.

Vengeance upon him, what Keir had wanted from the moment Rhysand sittted on the Night Court throne’s for the first time and declared him his enemy instead of making him his mentor. Azriel, a bastard born and a lesser faerie having a bigger role in the Court’s politics than he did. He was above Keir, who was of royal blood, and that couldn’t be forgiven. Nor all the humiliations that came next.

Azriel stood up and walked around his cell. There was nowhere to sit or lay, so he had to “go for a walk” pretty often to avoid his muscles becoming sore. It was tiring, and he thought it could help him get some sleep. His wings were tied, but no one touched them further. They didn’t dare. His name still had power in the Night Court, battle-hardened soldiers flinched at the sound of it. He had a reputation, and even the people who found an imprisoned him were wise enough to be scared of the tied up and unarmed Illyrian shadowsinger.

Besides, if he stayed on the floor, he would eventually get bored, and when that happened, his thoughts went straight back to Emerie. Every moment he didn’t spend scheming a way out of the prison was invested into regretting their last encounter.

After a lifetime of chasing the wrong love, he found her, and barely a year after, they were forced to part. He could have proposed to her, but instead, he was the one who suggested never binding themselves together.

“For your safety” he had said. And she had agreed.

At least, he knew it had been worth it, because she was safe and out of this big mess Rhysand and Feyre’s death had led them into.

The loud steps of a prison guard on the corridor took him out of his trance. Azriel noted he was having too much trouble unlocking the three latches. He pushed the thick door open only enough to come inside. The male was armed to the teeth and held a bucket in one hand.

“For you” he threw it on the ground before Azriel’s feet, but the Illyrian had his stare fixed somewhere else, on the guard’s eyes, covered in shadows cast by his hood.

Azriel didn’t even had to think about it, his own instinct commanded the power in his veins to come out, the darkness that was supposed to protect the male’s eyes from the bright light of the cell, becoming his death sentence. His shadows weren’t just the union of light and obscurity, but the absence of both. They were voids shaped like black snakes with a life of their own, and they were now corrupting the male’s yes, covering them, getting inside, feeding themselves with his flesh and absorbing his life into the nothingness they were.

He died before he had a chance to scream, and the shadowsinger was there to hold his body so he didn’t make any noise when falling down. Still, he was not gentle when he dropped him on the marble floor and run out of his cell.

As soon as he stepped out into the corridor, he realized why it had taken the guard so long to open the door. The absence of light after so many hours trapped in a cube of white shine made him go completely blind. His eyes simply couldn’t see anything, not even perceive the walls around him. Azriel had to use his hands to grope for the stone partitions that formed the passageway.

“Where am I?” he didn’t know. He thought he had an idea of where his confinement might be taking place, but he didn’t recognize the texture of the walls around him. He didn’t know what way to go, and he hadn’t expected that at all. He was the Spymaster, he had been for almost 300 years now, and he used to know the space under Hewn City they used as a prison as the palm of his hand. “Where am I?”

He had to think quickly, because his options were narrower than he anticipated. And he hadn’t thought he had that many to start with. Keir had put a lot of effort into making sure he was confined in the appropiate space, because he had been in a room too well illuminated to let him find his shadows in it, and now he found himself in a corridor too dark to get a glimpse of light. If he remained near to the door, he could still gather a few shadows and send them to explore the labyrinth, but they would only go so far before the darkness was too vast for them to thrive.

But he couldn’t stay there for long either, or some other guard might go check on him and find him sitting next to the dead body on the floor. He couldn’t just go now, or he would get lost too soon to be worth it.

He needed to find the way out.

Azriel recoiled a few steps and sent his shadows to explore the way ahead. He could sense what they saw... endless walls, cold floors, and if he took three turns right, he would find... Mor? No, not her, but a familiar warmth that reminded him of his friend.

“Could it be Keir?”, he wondered; they were family, after all. No, he never reminded him of her. Their auras were almost opposites. This wasn’t Mor, but it was a feeling of safety that guided him in the darkness. Azriel was disoriented, and maybe that’s why he decided to follow what would stink like a trap if he hadn’t been so desperate.

His shadows couldn’t go far enough to tell him what was it three turns to the right that called him so badly, but he put his hands to that side of the wall, and started walking, trusting it blindly.

Only when he finally saw the orb on the floor, its silver light illuminating the space enough for him to distinguish its round shape against the rest of the tunnel, he recognized the Veritas. Mor’s family treasure had once belonged to her father. Azriel himself stole it from him and gave it to Rhysand. The last time he had seen it, it had been used to negotiate with the Mortal Queens, before the war.

The shadowsinger knew it was a trap, a piece put there by Mor’s father to play mind games with him. If he had learned anything from his missions during the centuries, it was that one should never, under any circumstances, take Keir for granted. Rhysand had thought he would be able to keep him in line if he opened up Velaris, and Caldroun knew how that had worked out for him.

Yet, the magical object had an aura so strong he couldhear it calling his name.

“Azriel, Azriel, Azriel”. It was a familiar voice. Azriel touched the orb, and a vision of the past projected into his mind without giving him the chance of resisting.

They were in Emerie’s bedroom, the snowstorm outside so dangerous she had offered him to stay for the night. They had been seeing each other for half a year, but they had never spent the night in the same house before. That night they had sex, and she made dinner for both of them. At first he thought they had been lucky Nesta was with Cassian, or elsewhere it would be the three of them having dinner in silence. Then, he remembered they only met in there when Nesta wasn’t around, so it was not a coincidence at all.

Emerie didn’t like silence, but she also hated small talk, and getting into deep conversations made her uncomfortable -At least with him. At least for now-, so when they didn’t know what to say, she would start talking about her childhood and all the good memories she treasured of the time. He had been afraid it triggered him, or it made her uncomfortable if he told her about his own past, but it didn’t, and she found the right way to mix his experience into the conversation with that dark humour of hers he enjoyed so much.

“You whiny bitch” she had called him that night. He knew a fire-related joke was coming, and a smile was already forming on his lips. “Oh, my dad set me on fire” she mocked “That’s nothing, Az. My dad...” she made a pause and pinched the bridge of her nose in a dramatic gesture, like she was trying to overcome a wave of emotion. All faked. “... My dad gave me the worst haircut I have ever seen when I was 17 years old”.

Azriel held his smile and put a comforting hand on her shoulder “Em, I...” he pretended he had no words to ease her pain. She pushed him away.

“You what?” she fake-cried. There were no tears on her face, but if she could cry on command, it would have been the perfect charade “You feel me? No you don’t! I was 17, and I looked so bad not a single boy asked me out for a year. At 17, Az! That’s like the most important age for dating”.

He thought she was funny. He thought her effort to make it easy for him to talk about his childhood without throwing a pity party for him was endearing. And she always made sure she wasn’t overstepping and hurting his feelings. She had finally mastered the fire jokes, after getting bored of the not-knowing-how-to-fly ones. Those had been the first ones she came up with, because, ironically, she couldn’t fly either.

“Em, I don’t even know what to say. I can’t even start to imagine what you went through. I mean, I can’t even remember what I was doing at 17″ He made a dramatic pause too, but his weren’t as good “Oh, wait, I was getting laid every night. Yeah, that’s why I can’t really feel your pain, sorry". He held her hand in his. He wasn’t wearing his gloves, she said she liked his scarred hands better. He didn’t believe it, but took them off every time anyway. “Maybe you should try sharing this story with someone who is ugly. Maybe they’ll know what to say”

“I’m never cutting my kid’s hair” she said. She was smiling, and he was too.

“Yeah, I’m okay with that. And if they want to cut it, I can probably do it better than you, anyway” he answered.

The room went silent. They looked at each other, suddenly serious. Azriel panicked, realizing the implications of his words. When he didn’t know what to say, the shadowsinger stayed quiet, in fear he would add the wrong thing and make things worse. So it was Emerie who said:

“Well, if you want your kids and my kids to be the same kids, you’ll have to do something about your friends who hate me”. Her voice was firm, not nearly as loud as it had been moments ago. He nodded and silence reigned in the room again. “I’m serious, Azriel. I would like to have a life with you, but... I’m not doing it unless I know I’m going to be a priority”

It was fair. She had complained about his friend’s co-dependency before, and he knew sooner or later she would bring it up again and he would have to either break up with her, or grow some balls and talk to them.

Azriel had done a good amount of unforgivable things in his lifetime. He knew that, and he had never tried to make excuses for it. After all he had been through as a child, he genuinely had trouble sometimes telling where the line was. And knowing he had already crossed it once, he thought his soul would be cursed forever, no matter if he never did it again or if he did it a hundred times over. At least he was useful, and his family loved him regardless. 

He thought no other female but Mor would be able to see his darkness and embrace it, and that was why he had been pining for her for so many years. He had thought Morrigan was the only chance of love he would ever have. It was either her or solitude. But Emerie saw him, everything he had done to others, and still loved him somehow. The only thing she asked of hin in return, was the certainty that she would never be harmed or neglected even if Rhysand asked him to hunt her down, which was fair. She had wanted to know that he would always put her first, and no matter what the High Lord from the Night Court commanded, she would never suffer by his hand.

“He would never ask that from me”

“Still”

So he went to Mor and talked things out. He told her about Emerie and how deeply rooted his love for her was after less than a year of knowing her. He told her about the bond he had felt between them that night in her house, and how every fiber in his body had known he simply wasn’t capable of staying away from her, no matter what.

He then talked to Rhysand, who was his friend, but also his High Lord, and who could, technically, use his power over him to force him. Azriel was convinced Rhysand would never cross that line, but Emerie had asked for certainty, and he was going to give it to her. Rhysand had been happy to grant him his wish, and had been eager to celebrate his bond with Emerie. It had snapped for him, not for her. Azriel was not sure if it had actually fallen into place and she was being cautious, or if her fear for his job and duties in Court was so big it was the one thing preventing it from snapping for her.

Emerie and Nest had their onw party the night they all met to have dinner together in Velaris, and he didn’t mind her not attending, it was just onther one of Feyre’s endless fancy meetings. He thought there would be many more to come. The Inner Circle reunited and they drank too much while celebrating life, and happiness, and how lucky they all had been founding each other.

When the sun came out, Azriel was the one who found Rhysand’s body in the gardens.

Stabbed in the heart, his High Lord had been killed in a city that used to be safe. Inside his house. Cassian’s hungover had disappeared in less than a second when he saw Azriel carrying their friend inside the house and had run for Feyre. Their High Lady didn’t have a dagger forged in Hewn City coming out of her chest, like Rhysand did, but somehow she was dead too. Cassian was out of his mind, desperately wanting to get out of the city and go to his own house to make sure Nesta was okay, the bond pulling, but knowing his High Lord had been murdered, and he had a duty to attend. Watching him like that, so desperate, so lost and overwhelmed by feelings, made Azriel realize he couldn’t marry Emerie now. She still had a chance of having a normal life, and he wasn’t cruel enough to ask her to leave with him into exile, not knowing when they would be caught by the enemy. By his enemy, not hers. Not if they didn’t bind themselves together.

He took care of the bodies while the rest decided what their next move was going to be, because he already knew: to escape.

The the vision changed, and he was now seeing a letter. He knew the handwriting, it was Emerie’s. It was addressed to Keir. The piece of paper was folded on a familiar wooden desk, so he could only see Keir’s name and address on it.This wasn’t a memory of his own making, but if the Veritas was showing it to him, it must have been true.

Emerie sat on the desk and with a perfect trace, she flipped the paper and signed it at the end of the page. Then she put it inside an envelope, and sealed it with a wax seal Nesta had gifted her for her birthday.

The spymaster knew this game. He understood what Keir was trying to make by showing him the letter: creating doubt. He had used the technique on countless prisoners to get information from them, to drive them crazy. That’s how he knew it was working. Because he knew Emerie would never contact Keir, he would bet his life on it, on her innocence, even after seeing her hadwriting on it, her signature. But if the Veritas was showing it to him, it must have somehow happened.

How? Why would Emerie do such thing? There must have been an answer, a trick hidden inthe text he wasn’t allowed to read, even if he couldn’t come up with anything at the moment. He hoplessly wanted to believe in her.

He woke up numb, his wings still tied together, and alone back in his cell. The bucket the prison guard he killed had brought him was right where he had dropped it, but there was no trace of the body.

Azriel knew he was not making it out alive. What he didn’t know, was that Emerie was on her way.

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

tagging:  @illyrianwitchling  @arin1030 @bookstantrash @mireillemystique @silvernesta @thatoddgirl777 @angrypotatofairy @azrielsgirl @thalia-2-rose​ 

[imaginedhaven]

Rules of Engagement: Chapter Fourteen

Link to Masterpost

Another day, another chapter! These words have been fighting to get onto the page for so long they’re just flying by now that it’s their time. I hope you enjoy.

~*~*~

“So, let me get this straight,” Aedion drawled as he watched Whitethorn pace around the room.

He had to fight a grin as the warrior growled. “What could possibly be so difficult for you to comprehend?”

“Well, let’s start with the fact that you visited my cousin in the night, knowing full well she had already promised herself to someone else.” He knew, of course, that Aelin had ended things with Dorian weeks ago, but watching the color leave Whitethorn’s face was well worth the lie of omission. Before the warrior could say anything in his defense, Aedion carried on. “You have some sort of interaction with her you won’t discuss further. You leave in a hurry, but return to her room later, and she and her belongings have mysteriously vanished.”

“Yes,” Whitethorn snarled.

Aedion bit back a laugh as he watched Whitethorn resume his pacing. “And what, precisely, do you intend for me to do about it? Sounds to me like you’ve created this situation yourself.”

“You’re being too hard on him,” Lysandra called from the next room.

“Am I? He’s admitted to having some sort of late night encounter with my dear cousin, and botching it to the point that she runs away. I don’t think I’m being too hard at all.”

Whitethorn growled at him, exposing elongated canines before opening his mouth to speak, but Aedion simply lifted a hand to demand his silence. “Luckily for you,” he continued, “I have information that you don’t.”

He finally laughed as he watched the warrior freeze. “What information?”

“It doesn’t feel nearly as good to be the one without all the details, does it?” Aedion grinned.

“Play nicely!” called Lysandra.

Aedion sighed and shook his head. “First of all,” he revealed, “I know that Aelin ended things with Dorian almost three weeks ago now. The prince is due to make it public today.”

Whitethorn’s eyes widened. “She did?”

“She did. I’m not certain why she didn’t see fit to tell you, other than the fact that she’s been complaining to my mate about you avoiding her.” A pointed accusation to be sure, but Aedion had to admit he wasn’t feeling especially generous. They had bonded to an extent, certainly, but the male in front of him had just admitted to hurting his beloved cousin. He wasn’t going to make it easy for him to win back her affections.

The guilt that crossed Whitethorn’s face brought him some satisfaction in that regard. “I had orders, though that isn’t much of an excuse.”

“The second thing I know,” Aedion said instead of directly addressing the remark, “is that Aelin never intended to marry Dorian in the first place, nor he her.”

That particular fact wasn’t especially relevant to the current situation, but Aedion had to admit he was reveling in seeing such shock on Whitethorn’s face. It wasn’t every day that someone got to surprise a centuries-old blood-sworn fighter of Queen Maeve’s, after all.

Whitethorn’s shock faded to a contemplative frown, and Aedion knew the warrior would be piecing together any evidence he happened to have witnessed. Before he could get too far, though, Aedion had one final piece of information to reveal. “The final piece of information I have and you don’t is Aelin’s current location.”

Green eyes turned to him in a fierce glare. “You’ve known where she was this entire time,” he growled.

“Yes,” he admitted. “And my task was to stall you long enough that you couldn’t stop her, which I’ve done splendidly.”

“Stop her from what, exactly?” A part of Aedion noted Whitethorn’s obvious anger with a thrill of fear; the male was a highly capable warrior, after all, and with his magic as well Aedion wasn’t confident he could actually win a serious fight between them.

That being said, another part of him was delighted that he currently held power in the form of information, and that he had the ability to rile someone so famed for his foul but consistent disposition. With that in mind, Aedion launched one final barb. “I’m certain you could figure it out, if you took your time. Unless, of course, there’s more than one thing you know she could do that you would feel… compelled… to stop her from doing.”

The word was a hint that was far from subtle, and Rowan Whitethorn was no fool. As Aedion watched, he sat down hard in a nearby chair, eyes wide. “She’s going to Maeve.”

It wasn’t a question, but he responded regardless. “She is. Lysandra is to go back to Orynth in her place, disguising herself as Aelin until she reaches the border. I’ve sent letters ahead of us to Terrasen, to let the regent know of Aelin’s side trip. I am to follow behind her, now that it won’t raise suspicion and now that we’re unlikely to catch her before she reaches Doranelle.”

“And you let her?” Whitethorn demanded, incredulous. “Are you insane? Nothing good can come of the two of them meeting.”

“Yes to your first question, the second is debatable. And Aelin seems to think something good can come of it.” Aedion finally relented, letting his own expression soften. “But she can’t do it alone. I’m to follow her on the next ship to Wendlyn. Are you coming with me?”

“Of course I’m coming with you,” Whitethorn replied, no hesitation in his voice. “But before we do this, there’s something you should know. I don’t want your surprise to be a hindrance should a certain situation arise.”

“What is it that you think I should know?”

Aedion frowned as he caught a glimmer of regret in Whitethorn’s eyes. “I know who your father is, and we may come across him on our way to Maeve.”

Aedion’s world came to a grinding halt.

~*~*~

Aelin slipped off of the ship and into Wendlyn with a sigh of relief. She hadn’t been overly seasick on the journey, which she supposed was a relief, but she had kept to her cabin regardless out of a desire to remain as anonymous as possible. After all, Aelin Galathynius, Crown Princess of Terrasen, would attract undue attention.

Celaena Sardothien, the eccentric assassin, however, was someone from whom everyone kept their distance.

It was just as well, really. Aelin didn’t particularly want to talk to anyone on the voyage anyway. She had to maintain her focus on her plan. Instead, she had focused on the physical fitness drills Aedion had taught her so long ago and on sharpening the knives she had brought. If the other passengers thought her distant and cold, well, that was so much the better. The wildfire running through her veins was not intended for them.

Varese was several days’ travel from the port at which she’d landed, but some quick negotiations bought her a horse and food enough for the journey. She kept the hood of her cloak up for the entirety of the trip, both to maintain relative anonymity and to keep the hot rays of the sun away from her face.

She had heard that this land, the land of her mother’s family, was far warmer than the mountains to which she was accustomed. She had presumed it would be roughly equivalent to the summer days of Rifthold, if she gave the matter any thought at all. She had been terribly mistaken; the heat and humidity threatened to overwhelm her at the height of each day, forcing her to veer away from the road and seek shade and water for herself and for her mount.

It might have been easier to simply turn south and ride for Doranelle directly. It certainly would have taken less time. However, she had a favor to ask and a message to ensure the royal family of Wendlyn received, and so to Varese she went.

As she neared the city walls, she took a deep breath to steel her nerves. My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, she reminded herself, and I will not be afraid.

She reminded herself of this again as guards surrounded her at the city gate.

For all her nerves, though, the Ashryver line was well-loved in their own capital city. One look at her face and at her eyes, the turquoise-and-gold shared across most of her maternal line, and she was quickly ushered into a side room. “You’ve been expected,” a guard told her as she was left in a room with wine and some sort of flatbread.

Several minutes later, the door opened, and Aelin turned her attention to the room’s newest entrant.

But for their eyes, it would have been nearly impossible to tell that Galan Ashryver was of any relation to her. His dark hair and olive skin were far better suited to the climate of his homeland, whereas her pale complexion and golden hair fit her mountain home. But the Ashryver line produced turquoise eyes ringed with gold in most of its heirs, and when her gaze met his she saw the shared heritage.

Aelin stood and bowed slightly, wishing she had thought to bring finer clothes than her riding leathers. “Cousin, it is a great pleasure to meet at long last.”

Rather than stand on formalities, Galan pulled her into an embrace. “Well met, cousin, though I wish you had better news to bring me.”

Aelin smiled thinly. “There is hope yet,” she said. “I bring the proof I mentioned, along with confirmation that the Havilliards stand behind my actions thus far as well as those yet to come. I did not have time to hear from the Queen of the Wastes or the royal family of Eyllwe before my journey to you began, though I am certain that if you were to converse with Prince Dorian Havilliard he will have confirmation soon.”

As she watched, Galan skimmed through the papers she produced, brow furrowed in thought. “This certainly does seem compelling,” he murmured. “Though it concerns me that this was forgotten so long ago, if it is indeed true.”

“My greatest wish is that I am proven incorrect about the worst of my suspicions, though there is certainly much that needs to be answered regardless. I ride south to speak to our dear aunt, as quickly as possible.”

“You plan to ask her directly?”

“I do. If she can answer to my satisfaction, there need not be further action. And if our worst fears are realized…” She called one of her flames to appear in her hand, twining around her wrist like a bracelet before disappearing. She grinned up at her cousin. “I can take care of myself.”

Galan’s eyes widened. “So the reports of you inheriting Brannon’s power are true,” he remarked, “though your control is far better than reported.”

“I’ve spent a great deal of the past months improving my control,” she replied. “I’ve ignored my heritage for far too long, it would seem.”

Her cousin sighed and set the papers aside. “As you certainly know, I cannot give you the full approval of the crown of Wendlyn. That honor resides with my father still.”

Aelin nodded; she had suspected as much.

“However,” he continued, “I have full command of Wendlyn’s armies. I hope they will not be needed in this situation, but if the need arises I will aid you however I can.”

She smiled and stood. “Then you have my thanks, my dear cousin.”

“Will you need rooms here, to rest before carrying on with your journey?”

“You’re too kind,” she replied. “But no, I’m afraid I cannot delay. One of her blood-sworn warriors follows me, and I have already lingered too long.”

“The one you mentioned in your letter? I believed you to be friendly, from the way you spoke of him.”

“A blood oath does not recognize friendship beyond that of the sworn to his keeper. If she commands him to prevent me from arriving, he will be unable to do anything but comply. I wish to avoid placing him into such a situation if at all possible.”

“I understand,” Galan replied. “Do you wish me to attempt to detain him?”

“You will not be able to, though I appreciate your offer. No, it is best if Wendlyn remain neutral until it is absolutely necessary. Though with all luck, we may yet be able to avoid an incident we would all come to regret.”

“I certainly hope so. Go, then, cousin. Go with our blessing, and with our hopes for as peaceful an end as may be achieved.”

Aelin smiled and embraced him once more before they went their separate ways, him to report to his parents and her to continue her journey.

~*~*~

Aelin rode for Doranelle as quickly as she could, and soon she was once more within a forest. It was both hotter and more humid than those she called home, but it was still at least somewhat familiar.

Slightly less familiar and more unnerving was the continuous sensation that she was being watched. Obstacles she had spied along the path seemed to clear themselves before she could reach them, and occasionally she could swear she saw eyes peeking out from behind branches.

It wasn’t until the night before she reached her aunt’s borders that she finally faced some of the creatures that had been watching her, and she wasn’t certain whether to find it relieving or unnerving to discover that it had been the Little Folk watching her all along.

She had encountered their kindred in Terrasen, living quietly in the Oakwald Forest and preferring to remain largely unseen. If she lingered in the forest they had a tendency to leave small gifts along her path, little trinkets or particularly beautiful flowers.

These faeries had done more than leave an individual flower, though, for as she watched several of them placed a crown of beautiful red blossoms on a stone before her.

She could not name the flowers they had chosen. They appeared to be similar to the kingsflame that graced Terrasen during times of peace, but the blossoms were slightly larger and a different shade. Still, it was a crown that was all too appropriate for the Heir of Fire, and it both warmed her heart and made her nervous to realize that these faeries recognized her heritage just as readily as those who lived in the land she called home.

Deciding that politeness was the best way to proceed, she lifted the crown with a smile. “You have my thanks,” she murmured to the few who lingered. “This is a beautiful gift indeed, and I will treasure it as long as it lasts.”

The remaining Little Folk fled; either because of some noise in the forest she had not heard, or because she had called attention to them, she couldn’t be certain. She placed the crown of flowers atop her head regardless; it would be rude to thank them for their gift and then proceed to cast it aside.

The sun finally rose enough for her to see the path once more, and Aelin continued onward, wishing for the hundredth time that her secondary form was something more useful than a human shape. If she had been a bird like Rowan, she could have already completed her journey.

Aelin frowned. Perhaps it was best not to think of Rowan. Not now, when she was so close to her aunt’s territory and she needed to keep her wits about her. It was difficult to avoid thinking of him, however. How much had Aedion revealed to him by now? Had he followed at all? If he had, was it to fulfill his blood oath to her aunt and stop her, or was he going to attempt to help her however he could?

With a sigh, she realized that she had far too little information to speculate on his future actions. The only thing she could be reasonably certain of was that he would not directly harm her unless he was specifically ordered by Maeve to do so.

Depending on when exactly he caught up to her, the likelihood of her giving such an order was relatively high. Her aunt was known for many things, but her kindness and forgiving nature were not among them.

Perhaps it was for the best if he didn’t follow. She would have to alter significant portions of her plan, but he would be kept safe. Even as she thought it, though, she knew he would never be content to remain safe while others endangered themselves. No, he would come, to whatever end. All she could do was hope that she could make that a happier end than it would’ve otherwise become.

Resolve strengthened, she carried on along her path, and soon she was met by the calling of wolves.

These wolves, she knew, would be no ordinary creatures. No, these were sentinels for Maeve herself, loyal only to her. If her aunt wished it, these wolves would turn her away. If she pressed onward regardless, they would tear her apart if Maeve gave the order. No one outside of Doranelle was certain of the exact means of her control over these creatures, or even if they truly were wolves. Aelin supposed it didn’t truly matter. All that mattered was that they allow her to pass.

As two of the wolves approached her, she dismounted from her horse and walked out to meet them. It wouldn’t do to spook her mount unnecessarily, and it seemed wise to be as respectful as she could manage. “Greetings,” she called, and the wolves inclined their heads toward her.

She allowed some of her fire to manifest in the palm of her hand, twisting it around her fingers and wrist as she had done for Galan several days prior. “I am Aelin Ashryver Galathynius,” she said, “Princess of Terrasen. Heir of Brannon and of Mala Fire-bringer. You may know me as Aelin Fireheart, or perhaps Aelin of the Wildfire. I have come to meet with my aunt, Queen Maeve of the Fae of Doranelle.”

As the wolves looked on, she allowed her eyes to glow with the wildfire of her determination. She would not be stopped. She would see her aunt, and make her answer for all Aelin had learned.

Finally, the wolves moved to either side of the path, bowing their heads. Aelin simply walked back to her horse and swung herself into the saddle once more. She would be allowed to pass, and the wolves knew it.

Aelin smirked as she rode on, knowing the wolves were following her every movement now that she was truly within Maeve’s territory. It wouldn’t be long now. She would have her answers, and Rowan’s freedom, and perhaps even her own happiness.

All she had to do was fight for it with every ounce of strength she had within her.

~*~*~

“We’re less than a day behind her,” Rowan relayed to Aedion after meeting with the wolves that guarded the edge of Maeve’s territory.

The other warrior only nodded in reply. He had been remarkably quiet throughout the journey, and Rowan wasn’t certain whether it was the absence of his mate or the revelation of his heritage that had given him so much to think about. Perhaps it was both.

The male was taking it remarkably well, all things considered. He had occasionally asked quiet questions about what Gavriel was like, and Rowan had volunteered stories of his mentor and friend well into the night. He had been avoiding one question in particular, though, and it was this question that came forward as they began to move again. “Does he even know I exist?”

Rowan sighed. “I’m not certain. If he knows, he hasn’t told any of us. And that is certainly the correct decision if he does know; none of us would have been able to hide your existence if asked.”

“Because of the blood oath you all swore.”

It wasn’t a question, but Rowan nodded regardless. “She would use you against him at the slightest opportunity, as she uses anyone and everyone one of her blood-sworn holds dear.”

He had known, of course, what manner of female Maeve had been when he had sworn himself into her service. He’d known that she could be cruel, and merciless, and vindictive. He hadn’t cared, then; he’d welcomed it, even. Some part of him, the part that cried out for a mate that was no longer there, had relished it. It was, after all, no worse than what he deserved.

Doubt had begun to enter his mind when she had recruited Connall and then Fenrys, the Black Wolf and White Wolf. The way she had gone about it, and the way Fenrys in particular struggled against the oath constantly thereafter, were further indications of Maeve’s unique cruelty for anyone who cared to look. Rowan hadn’t, then, still convinced it was what he deserved. They had made their choice as much as he had; perhaps they’d had their reasons as well.

His doubts hadn’t truly manifested until he had explained his story to Aelin, and felt nothing but relief as she accepted all of him. He still believed that he deserved his fate; however, she deserved far better than to be entangled with such a dark court. If all had gone according to Maeve’s plan, he would have reported everything to her and Aelin would never have been safe again.

Rowan shook his head. It was pointless to think about; if there was a way to break a blood oath that didn’t result in death, he wasn’t aware of it. This was to be his fate, and he only hoped that Aelin could win her freedom from this life.

If she managed to free him as well, somehow, he would savor every moment of it and follow her to whatever end.

A ray of warm sunlight pierced through the clouds and he felt a strange sense of comfort, as though the goddess that had so blessed Aelin with her gift of fire had heard his thoughts and deigned to answer. Almost involuntarily, his eyes slid closed as he enjoyed the moment of warmth and peace. Too soon, however, the ray of sunlight passed on, and Rowan was left with only his divided thoughts once more.

Aedion was evidently only too happy to add to those doubts. “Did you know, when you swore to her, that she was like this? Did he?”

“We all did,” he said wearily. “We all had our own reasons for swearing the oath. What Gavriel’s were, I do not know. But we were under no illusions, if that’s what you ask. Every one of us knows what Maeve is capable of doing to those who cross her, as well as the rewards she bestows on those she grants her favor.” Both, of course, were twisted in their own way, but he wasn’t attempting to draw this conversation out any longer than he had to. If Aedion wanted answers to the questions he was actually asking, he would need to confront his father. “We should keep moving,” he said to cut off yet another question. “We don’t have long, if Aelin’s plan is truly for us to catch up to her as Maeve welcomes her.”

The journey into Doranelle was thankfully swift and free of obstacles, and soon they stood before the stone walls of the city that he called home but that felt like a cage. A tugging sensation near his heart, one that had been present since he had learned of Aelin’s departure, strengthened as they passed through the gates. It seemed that, though she had given no further explicit instructions, the blood oath demanded that Rowan act regardless.

Perhaps it had been a mistake to come.

It was too late to turn back now, though, and so instead he quietly led Aedion through the streets of the city, drawing ever closer to a palace made of stone at the center of the city built on the rivers. With each step, he thought another silent plea to whatever god or goddess may have cared to listen. For Aelin. For himself. For the warrior beside him. For the father who had never known his son. For the twins who had ensnared each other in Maeve’s grasp. If he was going to entertain desperate prayers that were unlikely to be realized, he might as well include Vaughan and Lorcan as well, though if Lorcan was somehow set free he was as likely to curse his liberator as he was to thank them.

He slipped them through a side door into the palace, down familiar halls and up familiar staircases. All the while, he was trying to mentally prepare himself for what they would face when they reached the room Maeve preferred for audiences. He realized quickly that it was futile, however; he couldn’t predict what Aelin would do, or how Maeve would react to an unknown force.

He especially couldn’t predict the words that froze him where he stood as they reached the door to Maeve’s audience chamber.

“So tell me,” Aelin was drawling, “how long have you known that you held the mate of the future Queen of Terrasen in a blood oath?”

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou

[fatesdeepdive]

Entry 6: Dicklips has a Point

Chapter 5: Mother

After a few days in Hoshido, Corrin is finally getting used to the massive emotional baggage that is her backstory. Mikoto invites Corrin to sit on the Hoshidan throne, which is infused with the magic of the First Dragons and destroys magic that alters the body or mind. Mikoto hopes that it will allow Corrin to regain her memories. Before Corrin can sit on the throne and become king of the Westeros or whatever, Mikoto’s strategist Yukimura enters. He looks like a nerd, but I suppose that’s better than being a steampunk MCR cover band dropout like Iago.

The Hoshidan siblings enter and Mikoto tells Corrin that they’re having a ceremony to quash spy rumors and formally reintroduce Corrin into the family. We’re properly introduced to Corrin’s other brother, Takumi. He’s assigned to show Corrin around town and is grumpy about it, because his defining character trait is being a dick. As Takumi and the princesses leave, Ryoma muses that he feels uneasy and predicts that something bad will happen soon.

The gang tours a Hoshidan marketplace. It’s so vibrant, and colorful, and full of life. I haven’t been talking much about this game’s music because I’m not a music guy, but I love the upbeat theme they use for this scene. It feels like something out of Okami and matches Hoshido’s idealized feudal Japan aesthetic perfectly.

Corrin points out that Shirasagi is way better than the Nohrian fort she was held prisoner in for years. Takumi rants that he doesn’t trust Corrin, saying Just don’t get too comfortable…SISTER. I know he’s supposed to come across as a dick, but he has a point. Corrin’s an enemy soldier who invaded Hoshido and killed a dozen people less than a week ago. It doesn’t matter that they share DNA, Corrin should be treated with suspicion.

Takumi also acts suspicious to Azura and says she can’t call him by his first name, which is dumb. What’s she supposed to do, call him Dicklips? Corrin points out that Dicklips is being an idiot and Dicklips tells her to shut up. And really, he is being an idiot. Either hate Corrin for growing up in Nohr, or hate Azura for having Nohrian DNA. Either nature matters, or nurture matters. You can’t have it both ways.

Then again, Azura and Corrin will totally join Nohr and try to destroy Hoshido if we chose the conquest path, so maybe Dicklips has a point.

Corrin tells Sakura that she’s friends with a girl around Sakura’s age, presumably Elise. If the coin flip had gone the other way and I was playing as boy Corrin, Sakura would have asked if Elise is Corrin’s girlfriend. And that’s ridiculous. Can you imagine, Corrin dating their teenage sister? That’s messed up. Good thing that isn’t a thing that happens in this game.

We go to the plaza for the festival. Side note, all shots of Corrin and Mikoto in the festival are positioned so that Corrin’s face is covered by something, like a man wearing an oversized hat, for instance. This is because Corrin is customizable and that means the game can’t show their face. They can show the clearly male body model, but not their face. Awakening had Robin wear a hood to get around this problem, but who needs fashion choices when you can just censor the main character’s face like it’s Austin Powers’s mojo.

While Corrin’s standing next to Mikoto, a weird ghost man wearing a hood walks to the front of the crowd and holds out his arm. Red smoke starts coming off Ganglari and an eye opens up on its hilt, because it is very clearly a cursed sword. Ganglari flies over to the man and he stabs it into the ground, creating a massive purple explosion ball. The sword explodes and Mikoto jumps in front of Corrin to shield her from the shrapnel. As she dies, Mikoto asks Corrin if she’s okay.

Fire Emblem has a lot of dead parent scenes, and I honestly think this is the best. Marcella Lentz-Pope’s scream when Mikoto dies is phenomenal. Mikoto begging Corrin to be alright and dying with a smile on her face is beautiful.

Ryoma cuts down the hooded man but his cloak just falls to the ground, leaving no body. Corrin screams, her hair glowing and her eyes white, physically holding back the pain as waves of energy burst from her body. In a moment, Corrin is gone. In her place is a dragon.

I really like Corrin’s dragon form. It looks so inhuman, more like a machine than a traditional dragon. It really gets across that Corrin has completely lost any semblance of humanity she had as she falls into this pit of despair.

The level proper starts up as an army of dark mages and mercenaries storm into the ruined plaza. Their leader is the ghostly man from before. Interestingly, he’s a swordmaster, a Hoshidan exclusive class that he shares with Ryoma. This level adds Sakura and Azura to our team and gives Corrin an absolutely monstrous boost to her stats, fitting for her rage dragon form.

Sakura

Corrin’s shy, gentle Hoshidan younger sister. She’s a Shrine Maiden (Cleric) and wields healing staves. Her personal skill lowers the damage taken by nearby allies. Her design is fine; I don’t really have any thoughts on it. She seems to be going for this “cute shy healer” personality, which isn’t bad, but Fire Emblem has done it a dozen times before.

Azura

Azura is our Dancer...I mean, Songstress. She sucks at fighting, but allows other units to attack twice, which is really helpful in battle. Her personal skill heals nearby allies at the start of their turns. Her design, despite its bright colors, does a good job conveying how calm and mysterious she is. Azura is an enigma. She clearly knows more than she lets on, but currently seems content to just follow Corrin around.

All of the mercenaries in this chapter wield special, dragon killing swords, which would be a problem, if Corrin didn’t have as much defense as the rest of the party put together. This chapter boils down to letting dragon Corrin smash everyone while Sakura, Azura, and Kaze provide support. Ryoma attempts to take on the ghost man, but is defeated. Then Corrin fucking stomps his translucent ass and saves the day.

Corrin continues rampaging and Azura begins singing LITAA. Her necklace, the one from the title screen, starts glowing. Ryoma runs in to protect Azura, but Azura blasts him away with a pillar of water, which is a thing that she can do apparently.

Dragon Corrin freaks out at the music and slashes Azura across the chest. Azura keeps singing and Corrin attempts to strangle her to death. Azura tells Corrin, Kill me if you want, but do it as yourself, which is a fantastic line that shakes Corrin out of her madness.

Corrin turns back into a human and has a flashback of Garon’s murdering Sumeragi and kidnapping her. Garon says You are my child now and grabs baby Corrin, which is so creepy its comical.

Corrin apologizes to Azura, saying she’s disgusted with herself. Ryoma explains that both royal families have dragon blood, the Nohrians from the Dusk Dragon and the Hoshidans from the Dawn Dragon. Corrin looks out over the destroyed town, a town full of innocent people destroyed by Nohr.

Ryoma points out that, because Garon gave Corrin an evil bomb sword, everything must have been his plan. Cool plan, by the way. Let’s see if I have it straight:

1: Give Corrin a bomb sword.

2: Have her commit an act of war.

3: Have Hans try to murder Corrin.

4: Hope he fails.

5: Hope the Hoshidans bring Corrin to their Queen, instead of imprisoning her for being an enemy soldier.

6: Have ghost soldiers invade Hoshido and take the sword from Corrin.

6: Cursed sword explodes, killing Mikoto and destroying her mind control barrier.

I mean, sure, there are probably simpler ways to kill Mikoto, ways that don’t involve praying that Hans fucks up and fails to kill Corrin. Garon could have, I don’t know, had the ghost soldiers kill Mikoto. Maybe their existence is tied to Ganglari, but that’s never actually stated, and the fact that they stick around and kill people after Ganglari explodes makes that questionable.

You know how, at the end of Naruto, Kishimoto had the villains reveal that they were behind every bad thing that happened in the series, and how it didn’t make sense and was dumb and convoluted? I’m getting Naruto vibes from this chapter.

Takumi blames Corrin for Mikoto’s death. And I mean, he has a point. Corrin’s the one who brought the clearly cursed sword her war criminal father gave her with her. Azura tells Takumi that it’s fine if he doesn’t trust her, but it's wrong for him to distrust Corrin, because Corrin is his blood. And that’s fucking stupid. Fire Emblem is filled with characters with evil relatives. Soren, Guinivere, Edelgard, Robin, the list goes on. Shit, there are evil blood relatives within this game.

Corrin suggests leaving and Yukimura tells her that Mikoto wouldn’t have wanted that and that Mikoyo knew she would die soon. He also mentions that there may be darker forces than Garon at work. Yukimura also points us towards a statue destroyed in the blast, a statue containing Yato, a diving golden sword that is said to be the key to peace. Yato flies up and over to Corrin.

Kaze runs in and reports a massive Nohrian force assembles at the border and the family marches off to war, with Ryoma declaring that he will not show any mercy. Corrin decides to follow Ryoma, in hopes of stopping the war. Azura tells Corrin to calm down, because getting into a fight could cause her to lose control and turn into a dragon again. Spoiler alert, this is literally the only chapter where Corrin loses control, because screw interesting characterization.

Azura gives Corrin her necklace, which turns out to be a dragonstone. Dragonstones and manaketes, people who can turn into dragons, are not new to Fire Emblem. Manaketes are normally uncomfortably young girls. Corrin is the first and currently the only manakete main lord. What’s more, Corrin is unique in their ability to wield both swords and dragonstones. It fits with the duality motif.

The necklace allows Corrin to control her dragon form, which is a bit of a disappointment. Corrin losing control and destroying stuff in this animalistic rage was really interesting characterization that is never seen after this chapter.

Azura decides to follow Corrin, because Corrin makes her feel safe. Apparently.

This chapter was really, really, good. Mikoto’s death was heartbreaking and Corrin going apeshit was some really strong character work. I forgot how absolutely terrifying Corrin’s transformation scene is. That said, this chapter hammers the final nail in the coffin for this story being morally grey. There is absolutely no reason to side with Nohr after this chapter, except for loyalty to the Nohrian royals.

At the start of the next chapter, we’ll choose our side in this war. And, not to tip my hand, but I don’t exactly think it’ll be a hard choice.

[jokertrap-ran]

(少女的王座—The Throne of Girl—) Main Story: Chapter 1 Part 12 English Translation

*The Throne of Girl Masterlist. *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut! *Main Story will be tagged under #Throne of Main

Chapter 1-1 / 1-2 / 1-3 / 1-3B / 1-4 / 1-5 / 1-6 / 1-7 / 1-8 / 1-9 / 1-10 / 1-11 / 1-12 / 1-13

Phone Call from Adrian / Lancelot

Those monsters had been slightly trickier to handle, but I'd managed to eliminate them without a hitch.

MC: These guys look like low-level monsters to me. They'd normally all be hiding in the forests, and wouldn't dare to invade humans all...

MC: But why would these low-level monsters be all the way here, out in the streets of the city and actively attacking humans?

I tried thinking of the reason behind this strange phenomenon but gave up soon enough.

MC: Forget it, I'm not the type of person who has a natural talent for cracking mysteries… I'd never be able to think of a reason even if I wreck my brains upside down; best leave it to someone else.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Simmering with questions, I headed back to the Palace.

Suddenly, I recalled not having seen neither hide or hair of Albert all day.

MC: (Wonder if Albert's back yet? I want to tell him about what happened today.)

MC: (Should I go back to his room and check if he's back yet?)

Should I go back to his room now?

▷Choice: Go back and check first

MC: (It's been quite a while now, so who knows, maybe he's back? I should go back and look for him first.)

▷Choice: Just hang around outside for a while

MC: (It’s still early, so there’s nothing to do even if I head back early. Besides, Albert might not even be back yet, so why don’t I just lurk around outside for a while more?)

And that was how I ended up wandering around the palace. It was near evening; the maids and servants hurrying back and forth, preparing for the various banquets that were to take place at night.

MC: Alas… The Palace is really bustling with activity day in and day out.

I paused in my footsteps, heading towards a more remote area. I might encounter some more “annoying” nobles if I were to stay in the livelier places after all.

I was in the inner depths of the Palace before I knew it. It was relatively quiet here, seeing as how it was the place where the Empress, her Majesty and the Royal girls lived.

But it was at this very same moment that my eyes passed a familiar figure.

MC: (That figure… Isn’t that Albert!?)

I looked at that person in disbelief— He had walked out of the Palace, where the Empress resided, in a hurry.

I had unconsciously ducked just shy of a corner, but my heart was pounding against my ribcage.

MC: (What is Albert doing, going to the Empress like that?)

MC: (I even heard that The Empress was secretly harboring male lovers, and there were also rumors spreading around the Palace that “His Majesty’s wife was an insatiable temptress” . Albert doesn’t look half-bad, so… It can’t be that he…)

I couldn’t help but to give myself a slap on the forehead as my blood ran cold as the thought registered itself in my mind; Albert had already disappeared from my field of vision.

MC: (No, no can’t do! I have to go back and ask him just what’s going on here!)

I went back to his residence and knocked on his door, but got no reply. 

MC: He isn't back yet…

Just as I turned around to leave, I heard Albert's voice.

Albert: Were you looking for me, your Highness?

MC: Where did you go, Albert?

Albert: Nowhere at all.

MC: Then why didn't I see you when I went looking for you just now?

Albert: I just went to ask a senior sword master for advice on my swordsmanship skills.

Albert: Did you require me for something?

What should I tell him?

▷Choice: Nothing much.

MC: Nothing much.

MC: There were no Social Activities planned today, so I wanted to go out fishing together with you… But in the end, you only returned after I’d finished fishing.

Albert: Unfortunately, that does seem to be the case...

MC: I’m fine with going fishing by myself and all, but you said that you’d gone off to meet a senior? Who was it?

Albert: The Commander of the Imperial Guards— Sorin.

Albert: He's the best of the best among the Sword masters of the Seven Kingdoms; and I've always wanted to speak to him for quite some time now.

MC: Really? I didn’t know that you actually had acquaintances in the Palace...

Albert: We just… Got to know each other by chance.

MC: ……

MC: (But aren’t the Imperial Guards on routine patrol at this time of the evening?)

▷Choice: You’re lying

MC: Really? Then why did I just see you coming out from the place where the Empress resides?

Something inexplicable flashed across his face upon hearing this.

Albert: Your highness, I was only—

Furious at his lie, I interrupted him before waiting for him to finish.

MC: Do you not know that she— That she's a carnivore when it comes to men?

MC: And get, you still went into her place of residence!?

He was stunned as he heard me out, only to frown at the end.

Albert: It's definitely not like what you think it is, your Highness; I swear! I will never, ever, do anything dishonorable; and neither will I ever do anything that'll sully Pepsilia's name!

MC: Then what were you doing there?

Albert: The Empress summoned me, asking me a couple of odd questions before dismissing me. Nothing else happened.

MC: The Empress questioned you? What about?

Albert: They were all pretty trivial things; like how the King was treating me, and about how I was doing recently.

MC: Why's the Empress asking you all that?

Albert: I don't know why I was summoned either.

Judging from the serious expression he had on his face, I think he wasn't lying about all those things he'd told me earlier; but my heart twisted with an inexplicable feeling. 

MC: (Is he hiding something from me?)

As I inwardly doubting myself, Albert seemed to have suddenly remembered something, turning towards me with apology written all over his face.

Albert: That asides, your Highness, the banquet that's being hosted by his Majesty, the Emperor, is about to start soon. So, let's head there as soon as you've picked out a dress.

MC: !!!

MC: That's something of such importance!!

MC: A banquet held by His Majesty, himself, cannot be compared to the likes of those Tea Parties! This is something I absolutely cannot miss!

MC: Not only can I not be late for it, I must also turn up earlier than I'm supposed to!

Albert: I'll be waiting here to escort you to the venue once you're done changing.

MC: (I'll just have to ask Albert about it next time when I have the time to spare.)

MC: (Whatever it may be, I trust that he isn't doing anything bad.)

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ♔What’s past, it’s prologue♔ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

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[loruleanheart]

Desired Fate, Chapter 2

Read on ff.net

Read on AO3

Zelda, Princess of Hyrule, moved about her bedchambers. It was a vast room with grey stonework walls and old furniture that had been in the royal family for generations. One corner held a grand writing desk where she often carried out her research into ancient relics late into the night. Affixed to the wall above were her most treasured research notes.

The princess was dressed for bed, her thick golden hair in a protective side braid, but she wasn’t feeling too tired, her nerves shot by the day’s earlier events. It was the first moment of rest she’d had all day. She had been constantly in the presence of Impa and the knight her father had assigned as her guard. The knight, who she’d learned was named Link, was odd. He barely spoke a word, yet Zelda couldn't disregard that he had saved her that day when a large Guardian that had been unearthed at the Breach of Demise had activated somehow without warning. This, along with the increasing number of monsters throughout the kingdom made their trip to the Royal Tech Lab an arduous one.

Zelda turned over many thoughts in her mind. How the little Guardian that seemed so attached to her had traveled from a Hyrule of ruin. Her father had seemed so vexed by the Guardian’s appearance, although Zelda was not surprised that he would try to discern whether the Guardian could be trusted. The little one did feel somehow familiar in a vague way…. Not to mention, it brought with it a look into the future of the destruction the Calamity would bring. 

A heaviness was descending upon the princess. Impa’s sister, Purah had managed to extract visual data from the little Guardian’s memory - true to life images that showed what the future would hold. Zelda had taken a cursory look through a few images but had quickly become overwhelmed. This was the destruction that would befall Hyrule should she not be able to harness her divine power. But, perhaps the pictures might also hold clues on how the Calamity could be averted.

She powered on the Sheikah Slate, wanting to give the visual data a more thorough analysis before turning in for the night. She scrolled through the horrific images of destruction, this time not having others around whom she had to put on a brave, composed face for. As much as she loathed wallowing in self-pity, she had at least managed not to break down earlier in front of the others. The princess had sensed the understanding of her plight in Impa’s voice earlier as they looked through the images together. 

Not only was Hyrule Castle pictured, but the destruction seemed to be widespread. Akkala Citadel... Fort Hateno…. The Divine Beasts…. All in ruin or corrupted somehow, and the fate of the entire kingdom and its people were bearing down on her.

I will not allow this to come to pass… I’ll do everything I can to stop this… But without the power, how will it ever be enough?

Despair and dread were starting to set in as it often did more and more over the years. She’d already tried everything she could up until now, and still, the power that should have come so naturally seemed to be impossible to find within herself. And the longer her power remained dormant, the more frustrated and cold her father grew. Zelda shut her eyes, holding her hand over her face, trying to calm herself, but it was too late as the tears she’d been holding back for hours broke forth. She quietly sobbed, hoping to not alert the attention of any of her attendants who might hear her cries. She scrolled to the next image and then there was not a location or a Divine Beast, but a picture of a strange man and she went silent. Her green eyes moved over the image. There on the Sheikah Slate was a hooded man in a tattered purple robe, but she could tell he was very handsome, even if not by typical Hylian standards. She couldn’t help but stop and stare. He was very pale and had dark, collarbone length hair. There was a long braid that hung in front of his left eye and was tucked behind his ear, and another that was decorated with gold beads.

He wore a gold circlet and a thick gold collar that draped over his shoulders that reminded her of jewelry worn by Gerudo royalty, although this man clearly wasn’t Gerudo. No male had been born to that tribe in ages. There was an oddity about the circlet though, in that the red stone had what appeared to be a stylized yellow iris painted on it - sort of symbolizing a third eye.

Who was this mysterious man? He must have been on the slate for a reason. The slate’s screen went black, and she realized she’d zoned out. Her mind was flooded with so many questions and speculations. Could someone like him really be out there, somewhere? He looked more like he belonged in some distant past foreign to her. Were they destined to meet? Should she seek him out? She didn’t know, nor did she know how to raise the subject to anyone else. Her father, dear sweet Hylia, her father…. Would almost certainly chastise for wasting her time with images discovered on Sheikah technology which had been banned up until the recent past instead of dedicating every waking moment in prayer to unlock her dormant power. But to Zelda, this felt as crucial as researching relics, perhaps even more so. And then it occurred to Zelda who she could confide in - Urbosa. Based on the jewelry the man wore, maybe she might know something.

And just like that, the heaviness that had pushed her to the edges of despair had lifted, even if only a little bit. Zelda laid the slate on her nightstand before climbing into her stately canopy bed. She found she was able to drift off with relative ease, all things considered. Tomorrow, she was sure, would be another demanding day, and she was eager for the respite sleep would bring.

In her dream that night was a woman in a resplendent white dress, and Zelda sensed she was connected with her. Was this Hylia, the goddess whose blood was said to run through her veins? The goddess smiled to herself in a dreamy way, absorbed in her song as her fingers moved along the strings of a small harp. The goddesses appeared to be singing as her lips moved silently, Zelda not being able to hear her words. Perhaps it was a lullaby. Zelda wished she could hear the goddess’s song. The goddess seemed so passionate about…. something, but all she could do was watch and hope this dream to be a harbinger of good things to come.

oOo

His harbinger turned and left, having imparted to his disciple how it had come to be and how it planned to counter what its “twin” from a ruined Hyrule had set out to do. It was fate that Ganon’s hatred had followed that Guardian through time to possess the one from this era. 

And now, Calamity Ganon’s will can be fulfilled in this time as well… The Prophet of Doom thought. This was all a part of Lord Ganon’s plan to annihilate his enemies completely, leaving no room for victory, even in a separate path in time.

That Guardian by the princess’s side had the means to set this path on a different course, and the prophet knew he couldn’t let some meddlesome piece of junk alter fate’s rightful course. He would subdue the princess and her newfound ally. The thought of destroying the Guardian had already crossed his mind, even before Lord Ganon’s new directive. Now he just had to make those two degenerate, banana-eating goons do his and Lord Ganon’s bidding.

The prophet was elated that he could now receive such clear directives and revelations from Lord Ganon. Had he not met with the harbinger, he would truly be on his own. The harbinger was proof to potential allies that he had indeed been chosen and could know the will of Calamity Ganon, not just interpret it through the constellations or prophetic dreams. Gaining the trust of the Yiga Clan didn’t feel like much, but things were coming together. The Calamity would return and reign down its hatred on Hyrule, and the kingdom would come to its end, at long last.

oOo

“I have selected the candidates for the Divine Beasts. Zora grace, Princess Mipha; Goron vigilance, Daruk; Rito confidence, Revali; and Gerudo spirit, Chief Urbosa. You will go meet with each and explain their role to pilot their respective Divine Beast.” King Rhoam’s voice carried through the main foyer from his place on the balcony.

Zelda looked up at her father and responded. “Yes, I suspected as much… I will meet with Chief Urbosa first. I am... looking forward to seeing her again.”

Rhoam nodded. “Understood. It has been some time since your last meeting with her.” The king’s voice held a respectful tone, perhaps thinking of his late queen who had been close friends with the Gerudo chief. His gaze moved to the little Guardian, and his voice became cold. Zelda stiffened as the words left his mouth. “And? You’re taking this relic with you, I presume?” Rhoam narrowed his eyes at the small Guardian that was currently hiding behind his daughter.

Zelda could sense an admonishment incoming, yet she managed an explanation. “Yes. After talking to Purah and Robbie, we thought it would be best.”

Rhoam took a seat on his throne, considering this. The Guardian moved out from behind her as if emboldened by her voice. “I will remind you once again. Above all else, your duty is of the utmost importance. Are we clear?” Rhoam said, sternly.

For the briefest moment, Zelda thought of the hooded man she’d seen on the Sheikah Slate. “Yes, we are clear. I understand... And I will honor my duty.”

It wasn’t a lie, per se…. Zelda thought. After all I’ve been through, who can say what honoring my duty looks like. Prayer hasn’t worked. I’ve spent over a decade dedicating myself to prayer. If I could just focus my attention elsewhere, perhaps the power will find me in a way nobody could foresee.

Zelda, Link, and Impa departed the castle with the new Guardian in tow. The Princess breathed a soft sigh of frustration as she felt her father’s eyes boring into her, which didn’t go unnoticed by Impa and Link. And in time, the three were laughing and bonding over the little Guardian that acted as if it were a knight in the princess’s service.

[unbreckable]

༄ hande erçel, cis woman, she/her + eyes that hold an unbridled potential for chaos, trapped within a cage of perfection. honeyed voice layered with ice – glazed with trepidation and resentment. a fragment of hell so proud and harsh and beautiful, growing more venomous as she reaches for the endless universe. – is that daphne greengrass ? their ministry records say that they are twenty-three , a pureblood , and graduated from hogwarts . currently they are an obliviator . whenever i see them you’re somebody else by flora cash starts playing in my head. i think this may be because they’re decorous & resilient , but also distant & withdrawn . [ kimmy , she/her , twenty-four , gmt +8 ]

 basics .

name & origin : daphne emiri greengrass. daphne, the anglicized version of the turkish defne meaning bay tree or laurel tree. emiri meaning one who tries to excel or a royal person. greengrass, carries weight as it is part of the sacred twenty-eight. nicknames : daph preferred name : daphne age & birthdate : twenty-three & september 22 gender & pronouns : cis woman & she/her orientation : heteroromantic / heterosexual ethnicity & nationality : ethnicity – turkish ; nationality – english & turkish hometown : it’s not a town perse but the greengrasses have owned a huge plot of land in the surrey countryside for centuries. located outside the gates of the greengrass home is a small, bustling village of magical folk most of who have been caretakers of the greengrass estate for generations.  current residence : penthouse in an apartment complex hidden from muggles in london occupation : obliviator hogwarts house / school graduated from : slytherin

miscellaneous .

phobias : drowning, flying but not heights quirks : doesn’t blink when caught in a lie, ambidextrous, hardly ever needs rest and is always on the go hobbies : the piano, violin, collecting art, boating, philanthropy likes : classical music, art, galas & balls dislikes : being talked over/dismissed, unmade beds, bitter taste wand : 9 ¾”, cherry wood, unicorn hair core, springy patronus : swan boggart : herself chained and drowning in a tank reverse amortentia : soft vanilla and expensive cotton, newsprint, freshly pressed clothes, and chanel no. 5

history .

what was their family life like ? coming from a family with mostly female heirs, it was her mother who was born a greengrass, her father the third child of a prominent turkish pureblood line who was happy to inherit the name and the title of greengrass patriarch. the story was to be the same for daphne. as her parents lacked a male heir she was the next to inherit, however twenty years after her birth her parents announced a third child – this time male all that daphne stood to inherit was suddenly taken away from her by an infant. it was then that she gave up the expectations, her position as a socialite and philanthropist and distanced herself from her family. 

what was their childhood like ? her childhood was filled with education. she learned her name and all that it contains. she spent her days dancing until her legs wobbled, playing the violin until her fingers grew calloused, and spent many hours learning proper etiquette and how to be a lady. all this on top of her magical education which included a rigorous curriculum of charms and transfiguration – all learned before her attendance at hogwarts. this was what it meant to be the greengrass heir. she was instilled with discipline and a thirst for perfection. 

what were they like in school / as a student ? daphne was an intelligent student as well as a curious one, but she had never been the best and it had always gotten under her skin. she’d never been competitive before hogwarts, having no one to compete with in her home and it struck her that she wasn’t immediately the best in all areas. it lead her to dislike academics as she had grown to dislike everything she wasn’t perfect at. it also lead to a growing dislike for those who were considered to be the brightest and she grew petty, becoming the source of many veiled insults and rumours. what were their views of the war ? she was content to live life the way she always had without digging deep into the wizarding world’s problems. as for pureblood supremacy she never gave it much thought,  not seeing a point in fighting a system that benefitted her. however, despite her high view of herself she’s never really saw muggleborns as less for their blood, but because of what she saw as closed mindedness. they came into the wizarding world with their wild ideas and looked down on the tradition and customs built by old families.

where were they during the battle of hogwarts and why ? daphne did not fight in the battle and she’s not ashamed of it. she’s never been a good duelist, excelling only in charmwork and transfiguration. daphne was not made to fight a war, but to be protected from it. the only possible ending of her having fought in the battle of hogwarts would have been death.

what are some challenges they’ve had to face as a consequence of the war ? daphne may not have fought in the war, but she still has emotional scars. watching her friends become forced into roles that made them lose themselves and fight a war they were not sure they believed in took a toll on her. despite her cool nature, she was easily affected by her friend’s change in disposition. that being said, compared to others she was left relatively unscathed as her family was neutral during the war.

what are they doing now ? she’s an obliviator – a job she took out of sheer boredom and to defy expectations. 

how have their views changed ? she’s starting to realize that in doing nothing during the war, she was complicit in all it’s evils. 

[whereisten]

Snowflake - Part 1

Part 1

Summary: You’re moving into the world-famous Sakura Castle for the month and you meet its permanent resident: Yuta.

Pairing: ghost prince! Yuta x duchess!female reader

Word Count: 5.2k words

Genre: Romance, Angst, Drama, Fantasy

Everything around you was a winter wonderland from a very recent snowfall. Sakura Castle was adorned with Christmas lights. The gardens were full of primroses and snowdrops. Horse drawn carriages were coming in and out of the estate. The French Renaissance-inspired chateau was located in the city of Neo Osaka. This would be your home for the next month. However, you absolutely dreaded this time of the year. You didn’t despise the concept of Christmas but your family and their acquaintances had certainly done on a number on your outlook of the holiday.

This year was the first time you visited Sakura Castle to celebrate. The only thing you looked forward to was getting the castle to yourself once your relatives left after Christmas Eve. You lived a very comfortable life. Most people would expect you to wholeheartedly embrace it no matter what. But with this life you were bound to your family. And some of your family...Well, they weren’t the most exemplary people.

You longed to escape your family at times. Change your last name. Move to a new town. Get a job you loved. But for now, you were what many would call a pampered princess. You were expected to be an administrative assistant at your father’s tech company. Then, you would get married to a Robert or a Harrison from Connecticut and he would get a job higher up than you.

Even if you were more qualified.

You would quit. Have his 4 or 5 children. Take up knitting and French pastry baking. It made your blood boil.

You were finalizing your appearance for the evening in your dressing room on the third floor of the castle. Your princess suite was the size of at least penthouses in Manhattan. It was like a little castle of its own. It had its own personal library. A bathroom with a tub as big as a hot tub. A personal gymnasium. Two walk-in closets. A balcony that overlooked the gardens. A King-sized bed that made you wish sleeping was a profession. A lot of renovations were made to Sakura Castle over the years but its integrity remained. The artwork and architecture of the castle. The furniture that dated back to at least 150 years. The skylight in the ballroom. The multiple libraries. The music room. The study rooms. The paintings of the royal families over the years.

“Miss y/n, your face almost matches your dress. Are you feverish?” Your family’s maid, Helena, asked you as she helped flatten the creases on your ruby red ball gown. It was an off-the-shoulder sleeveless satin dress that you wished you could have saved for a night that you would want to remember.

You shook your head. “I’m fine, Helena. Thank you.”

“There are a lot of fine young men arriving, y/n. I envy you.”

You frowned through the floor-to-ceiling mirror. “No...why?”

“Because they’re your suitors. Your choices are the cream of the crop. You’ll land a Prince Charming for sure.”

You wanted to vomit.

Your mother entered your dressing room. “Drop dead gorgeous, my darling daughter.”

You forced a smile. “Thank you, mother.”

“Of course you would be. Given you have my genes.”

After twenty minutes of your mom lecturing you about how to behave and how to flirt with your...you couldn’t even fathom calling them this but what else could you call them...suitors.

Oh, wait.

Bidders for an expensive and highly sought-after piece of merchandise (you). Olympic athletes trying to get the gold medal (you). Customers looking for best piece of prime beef at a local grocery store (you).

This night wasn’t going to be fun. The only thing you looked forward to was the snack table when you would be able to excuse yourself to go to the powder room. Heaven forbid your nose was ever shiny in front of anyone.

You looked forward to getting to know Sakura Castle for the estate was a magnificent being in itself. You haven’t explored the castle yet since you’d arrived a few hours ago. Preparations for the Eve Ball had been underway for months and they’ve finally winded down to the last details. Servants walked in and out of the castle. Some bringing in ice sculptures. Others bringing in King Louis XVI chairs that looked too fragile and pricey to sit on. Not that you would ever find out as you would probably be on your feet all night.

You were escorted to the main entrance of the ballroom where you would be announced. The bidders better get their paddles ready.

“Announcing y/n of House Surname,” the announcer declared into his microphone. The French double doors opened and you entered the ballroom. You were met with applause. You smiled as instructed and proceeded to walk down the steps, thankful for the last few moments you had alone.

Because when you reached the bottom of the stairs, five men were already waiting to take your arm.

Harrison Roberts was at the forefront. “It’s been a long time, Lady y/n. Can I have the first dance?”

Lee Taeyong cut right in. “Lady y/n, don’t waste your time with him. He was flirting up a storm with one of the maids when I was walking in. You deserve to dance with someone who has no wandering eye.”

Jung Jaehyun shoved them both to the side. “Care to dance with a friend who kicked your ass in Jenga too many times to count?”

You didn’t expect Jaehyun to be here tonight. “Jaehyun, how long has it been?”

Jaehyun offered his arm and you took it. “Seven years?”

You remembered seeing him off to college. You two lost touch. He was a family friend that made these kinds of events less dreadful. It was great to see him again.

The orchestra played an awe-inspiring rendition of “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None The Richer. Jaehyun led you to the center of the dance floor.

He led the waltz. He spun you around and pulled you close and for a moment, you thought Jaehyun saved the evening. But then he said the next few words:

“Wouldn’t it be cool if I took over your dad’s company?”

You stiffened but still kept moving. “What?”

“We should get married, y/n. Our families would be over the moon. I can get my dream job. Your crush on me can finally be fulfilled.”

The seven years away did not do Jaehyun good. Jaehyun went on and on for the rest of the song talking about where you would have your honeymoon and how he was sure your dad would spare no expense to let you two travel the world.

You were silent. You could feel your parents steely gazes on you as they watched from their thrones...well, from the head table.

The song ended and Jaehyun bowed. You curtsied.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to go powder my nose,” you said and quickly walked away. Thankfully, Jaehyun didn’t follow so you found your way to a part of the ballroom where a balcony was left unexplored. You walked out onto it and prayed for a few moments of quiet.

It was freezing outside but oddly enough, it didn’t bother you. You leaned onto the railing and looked down at the gardens. A spectacular fountain with a Cupid laid at the center of it. It felt like Cupid was giving you the big middle finger.

A stray snowflake fell onto your arm, quickly melting away on your skin before you could admire it.

You feared the snow would start and you would be compelled to go back inside. So you prayed to stay out here as long as you can. For any excuse. You sighed and plotted how to get to the snack table with little detection. Maybe Helena could sneak something out to you.

“For the belle of the ball, you seem pretty miserable,” a male voice started.

You jumped. You didn’t hear the balcony doors open. You turned to your right to find a young man leaning against the railing beside you. His pale blonde hair ran to his shoulders, caressing his face that was as elegant as a fairy’s. His skin glistened with the moonlight. Almost as if he was one with it. He was like a winter-themed priceless art painting come to life.

“You scared me,” you said as you put your hand to your chest.

He smirked. “Sorry.” Clearly unapologetic.

Shaking off the stunned feeling he gave you, you rolled your eyes. “Can you please leave me alone? I can’t deal with another suitor. Not this holiday season.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not a suitor, your highness.”

“Don’t call me that!” You started but then you tilted your head at him in confusion. “Huh?”

“You seem surprised. I for one am surprised your ego could be so big to assume that any male in your perimeter is intent on pursuing you.”

You blushed. “That’s not it.”

He chuckled. “Oh, it’s not? Then, what is it?”

“The Eve Ball is my parents’ excuse to get me a husband. Did you not see the turnout in there? Fifty percent of the crowd are eligible men between the ages of twenty and thirty five.“ And that was an underestimation.

The young man raised his eyebrows. “And they’re all here for you?”

“They’re all here for my family’s fortune. So no. I’m...an asset?” Hearing that part come out of your mouth sounded so wrong.

He frowned, seeming to regret his words before. “So tonight isn’t as romantic as you’d hoped it would be?”

You snorted. You couldn’t help it. “I never had any hope for that.”

“You seemed happy with that man you danced with. The pale one?”

“Don’t even mention him. He’s just like the rest of them.” Thinking about Jaehyun’s betrayal reminded you of how much worse this night ended up being than expected.

The young man noticed he’d gone too far with teasing you. “I’m...sorry. I’ve been messing with you non-stop. I thought you were another airhead heiress.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to think so,” you said as you fixed the creases on your dress.

He watched you as you looked down at your dress, He was mesmerized with how long your eyelashes were. How you smelled of roses and peonies. The way your curls fell to your cleavage. You met his eyes again and he looked away.

“Seems like a lot of people are wrong about you, Lady...” He began.

You interrupted. “y/n. No need for ‘Lady’.”

“So no formalities, huh?”

“They’re unnecessary,” you said. “Unless you’re royalty and you’re being modest. I don’t want to make another assumption.” You hoped this guy wasn’t a stickler for calling you by your noble title.

He shook his head. “Can’t say I currently hold a royal title.”

You were relieved and smiled without thinking. “Okay, good. What’s your name, then?”

“Yuta,” he said, beaming at the sight of your joy.

“Well, Yuta, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The first man you’ve interacted with that didn’t want to marry you and wasn’t after your family’s wealth.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He grinned genuinely for the first time. It was a sight to behold.

“Lady y/n!” Someone called from right outside the balcony doors.

“Shit!” You exclaimed. “Hide me now.” You said to no one in particular. The only good time you had at the ball was about to end.

Yuta surprised you when he moved closer to you and held you.

“Yuta, what are you-“ You started.

He placed his fingertip on your lips. “Shh.” He shushed you.

Jaehyun came out onto the balcony. Kill me now, you thought. You didn’t know how Jaehyun would react to seeing you in the arms of another man.

Jaehyun looked around the balcony in confusion.

He looked right through you. In fact, he walked right through you as he looked past the railing.

You prayed you weren’t breathing too hard because being invisible had never felt so good. Feeling Yuta’s strong arms around you. Tight and secure. His body was so warm through his slim fit tux. His head laid on top of yours, teasing you that you were so short compared to him.

“She wouldn’t run off, would she?” He asked himself. He shook his head and headed back inside.

You exhaled when Jaehyun disappeared.

And then you realized what happened. You escaped Yuta’s embrace to look up at him.

“Yuta, sweetheart,” you said, laughing nervously, “What the holy hell was that?”

He smiled sheepishly, “We were invisible?”

You nodded. “Uh huh...I got that much. That begs the question...How?!”

He sighed. “I didn’t anticipate telling you this but...I’m the spirit of this castle.” He shrugged like he just told you his Zodiac sign.

You didn’t know what that meant so you shot him a look.

“y/n, I’m dead,” he delivered, deadpan.

You backed away. How could that be? He was warm and his presence just...glowed.

Maybe that glow wasn’t human like you thought.

Yuta continued as he snapped his fingers and a plate of your favorite desserts appeared on his other hand. He handed it to you.

You were torn between crying tears of joy that the holiday brownies didn’t run out and having a total meltdown.

You couldn’t be high. Your drink couldn’t have been spiked. You get your own beverages, much to the maids’ chagrin.

He nodded. “Come on, y/n. I know you’re hungry. One look at you and I could see the sweet tooth.”

You hesitated to reach out to him even though you were quite comfortable in his arms before. He handed the plate to you and you simply held the plate of chocolate-covered sin, focused on Yuta.

“You’re a warlock?” You asked. That much you could believe in because you always clung to the possibility of there being more than the mundane in this world. Even if it rattled you.

He nodded. “An undead warlock, if you want to be more specific.”

You nodded carefully. “But I...can touch you.”

He said, “Yeah, I can’t explain that either. You’re the first person in a century that could touch me. Which is why I had to meet you.” He looked at you carefully, then.

“A century?” You asked in disbelief. “Wait, when did I touch you?”

Yuta smiled. “I like to pop up around the castle every now and then. You bumped into me. You muttered something about ‘not missing your recording time’?”

You blushed. You remembered that. This morning, you had some free time before you had to prepare for the ball. So you wanted to record for your podcast where you just talked about everything and nothing.

You recalled bumping into a few people and apologizing profusely. You had no idea one of those people was a ghost. Much less the ghost of a sorcerer.

Yuta laughed. “You record? Music?”

You shook your head. “It’s a podcast. I talk into a microphone and record it. Post it online and people can hear it if they want to.” You had a decent-sized following. You modified your voice, of course. Your family wouldn’t approve that their high-profile daughter was posting about her inner thoughts and desires on the Internet. People always asked for your name and your face. But you went by the name Sunflower. It was what your grandparents called you when you were a child.

Yuta widened his eyes. “That sounds right up my alley. I’d love to do that.”

One look at Yuta and you knew he had a lot to say.

“Lady y/n!” You heard again. This time you had no time to hug Yuta.

You turned to him but he vanished. It was your mother, looking none too pleased. “Where have you been? Jaehyun has been looking for you for the past half hour.”

You sighed. “I’m sorry, mother, I...I needed some fresh air.” Suddenly, your teeth started chattering. Was it always this cold since you stepped outside?

Your mother looked down at your hands, seeing the plate full of desserts and frowned. She took it out of your hands and tsked. “That’s plenty of fresh air, darling. Now let’s go back inside. It’s cold out here! Jaehyun has turned into a fine young man, has he not?”

=

There you were, making chit chat with the Jung family. Jaehyun made no mention of the extravagant honeymoon plans or the kind of desk he wanted in his office. It was all smiles and fake concern for your well-being.

“y/n, can I get you something to drink?” He asked, putting on his best concerned boyfriend face.

You immediately shook your head. “I’ll get it myself.”

Jaehyun protested. “I insist. You’re a lady. A lady shouldn’t get herself her own drink. She should be waited on.”

You were about to speak up but your father halted you with the raise of his hand. “Son, please respect my daughter’s stance on this. We’ve insisted on it for years but she will have none of it. It’s best not to argue with her on it.”

The one thing your parents listened to.

And you’d soon realize that would work in your favor.

You went to the table where there unopened drink bottles (per your request) and poured yourself a glass of champagne.

You were surprised to find a strikingly gorgeous woman with long white hair tied in a French braid and a baby blue long sleeved dress. She looked eerily familiar. Her elven-like face was softer than...

Yuta’s..

“y/n, it’s me...Yu...na.” Yuta whispered playfully.

The woman before you was actually Yuta.

“Yuta?!” You whispered.

He...she winked at you. “Not bad, huh? I may just steal your thunder.” She spun in a circle, making a show of her sparkly blue dress.

You laughed. “Feel free. I’d love to see you slow dance with Jaehyun.” Only for Jaehyun to realize that Yuta was a ghost. And a man. But he’d be passed out on the floor before he reached that tidbit.

Yuta chuckled. “We must catch up...since we’re old friends from horseback riding lessons.”

Puzzled, you asked, “How did you know I...Never mind. What are you saying?”

Yuta took the glass of champagne you drank from and took a sip. “Your parents have to let you get away if a dead old friend wants to catch up.”

“You mean a dear old friend...” You said warily.

He smiled. “Sure.”

Yuta led you back to your parents and the Jungs.

“Father. Mother. Duke and Duchess Jung. Lord Jaehyun. This is my childhood friend, Yu..na.” Excellent delivery, you told yourself.

Jaehyun’s jaw nearly fell to the ground.

Yuta curtsied. “It’s a pleasure. y/n and I took horseback riding lessons together.”

“Oh, goodness. That was so many years ago I almost forgot y/n took those lessons. I went around saying you figure skated,” your mother said, oblivious to how hurtful those words were. That made everyone, except you and Yuta, laugh.

Yuta continued, “Yes, I was hoping to catch up with y/n. Just us girls. You see, I was recently stood up at the altar...The man was after my family’s fortune. But he found love instead. Horrible man. Shouldn’t have led me to the altar if his heart wasn’t in it. Makes me wonder why people don’t just marry for love...I needed to see my dear old friend. Talking to her helps me overcome this immense pain in my heart.” Yuta almost made you laugh with what were surely crocodile tears. You grew more fond of him when you realized he was making a slight dig at your parents.

And it didn’t go unnoticed by them either.

Your father cleared his throat while your mom downed the rest of her champagne. The Jungs were simply confused. Jaehyun looked at Yuta for far too long.

Your mother started. “Yuna, this ball tonight is for-“

“Mother,” you interrupted. “This is the Eve Ball. It’s for all of our friends and acquaintances to ring in the sacred celebration of Christmas, is it not?” Or was she going to admit that this was a mating ritual for her own daughter?

Your parents’ were taken aback. Surely, they weren’t going to admit the truth out loud for appearance’s sake. Even if everyone already knew.

Your father spoke up, “You’re correct, y/n. Well, since you’ve spent some time with the Jungs, you are free to spend time with your friend.”

Translation: Jaehyun was proposing when you returned from your holiday in Sakura Castle. You knew your parents were set on it when you saw how they never left the Jungs’ side. And why Jaehyun persistently searched for you.

You allowed yourself the luxury of relief for the moment, though. “Thank you, father.” You curtsied to the others. “Good evening.”

Yuta cheered. “Let’s go, y/n. Let’s bring out the Ouija board!” She squealed like a teenage girl.

Yuta was a little too convincing at that.

That cracked a smile out of you. She took your hand and you made a beeline out of the ballroom.

=

You led Yuta up the stairs to the top floor where your suite was. You opened the imposing double doors to your bedroom and pulled Yuta inside.

You undid the bobby pins so all of your hair fell free. You sighed in relief. That hair bun may have been one of your best hairstyles yet but it hurt like a bitch.

You checked yourself in your vanity and turned to see Yuta had reverted back to himself. His face was unreadable but uncharacteristically, he was silent. You jumped at his transformation back.

Yuta laughed. “What’s wrong?”

He knew damn well what was wrong.

You let a man you barely knew into your bedroom, essentially.

You faced him and got up the nerve to talk to him like you were unbothered.

And not that you’d forgotten that Yuta was a man. A ghost, yeah. But a man all the same.

The fairest man you’d ever encountered. “Thank you for getting me the hell out of there, Yuna.” You said his alias pointedly.

He poked his cheek and said in a cutesy voice. “I got your back, sister.”

You giggled a little too enthusiastically. You cringed.

He eyed you. “You okay?”

You sighed. “I’ll answer that when I get out of this dress.” You couldn’t wait to get into a Spongebob tee and some shorts.

Yuta whistled as he twisted your words. “I was going to be a gentleman but if you insist...”

You smacked his arm. “Stop it.”

He laughed. “You make it so easy, y/n.”

As you changed out of your dress and into your pajamas in your dressing room, Yuta waited for you in the library.

You joined him and watched as he picked a book off the self.

“I was wondering...” You started.

“Yes, I will stay the night,” he said with a lazy smile on his face. He flipped through the pages of The Shining by Stephen King.

“That invitation was for Yuna. But actually...How have you been in this castle for so long? I mean, it must be-“

“Agonizing. Endless. Despairing. I could go on. But I keep trucking along. I get to haunt a lot of the airheads when they come stay here. So it’s not all a big downer,” he said calmly.

You hurt for Yuta. All of this time, you thought you were trapped but meeting Yuta made you reevaluate your perspective.

Yuta noted the somber look on your face. He placed the book back on the shelf and took your chin into his hand. “Chin up, y/n. I may not be able to leave this castle but I’m a warlock who was has travelled all over the world before his death. And a photographic memory to boot. So if I wanted to go to Paris...” He snapped his fingers again.

Your room transformed into the sidewalk by the River Seine. The Eiffel Tower was across the street at night. It shined its brilliant shades of oranges and yellows. Crowds of people passed you by. It felt too real. Like this was truly present-day Paris. You looked down at at your clothes and you wore your favorite brand of skinny jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Yuta did as, well, but with a leather jacket.

Of course, he was a leather jacket guy, you thought.

It was spring time in Yuta’s manifestation but as it was nighttime in the scenario, it was a little colder.

Yuta removed his jacket so could put it over your shoulders.

Why didn’t he just conjure up a jacket for you?

Practically reading your mind, he admitted, “I wanted to put my jacket on you.”

Feeling very shy all of a sudden, you looked all around in awe. You haven’t been to Paris since you were ten but you treasured that time always. You visited with your maternal grandmother. She took you to all the patisseries your stomach could handle. It was one of the best experiences of your life. Growing up, you were closest to her. You teared up, remembering her and just being overwhelmed with what surrounded you. The hustle and bustle of the traffic. The faint accordion music in the distance. The laughter of children in the park.

“Not bad for a manifestation, right?” Yuta asked you as he proudly looked around at his creation. Then, he heard you sniffle.

“y/n,” he said, alarmed.

“Oh, no, It’s okay. I’m...happy. I love it, Yuta.” You wiped your tears with your arm. “Oh, look, crepes!” You saw a crepe stand by the river.

Yuta walked with you to the stand.

The vendor greeted you in French. “Welcome. How can I help you?”

Yuta replied fluently in return, lifting two fingers up. “Hello. Please, may I have two Nutella crepes?”

“So you speak French,” you said, preparing for another slick comeback from him.

“I can sing to you in French as you fall asleep, if you’d like,” he said quietly. No trace of mockery in his tone.

Caught off-guard by his candor, you sputtered. “You’re messing with me.”

Yuta shook his head. “I don’t mess around when it comes to my vocals.”

=

“Do you want me to shift it back?” Yuta asked after you two stared up at the stars together. You laid on the grass by the river.

“Not yet...I...Just a little longer,” you said, barely above a whisper.

Yuta continued, “You have questions.”

Sure, some quiet did you good. But you felt tense around Yuta. Feeling him so close to you. The rise and fall of his chest as he laid so close to you. Without touching you. It was killing you both, actually.

“You said you’ve been trapped at the castle for a century...You died there. So you must have lived in the castle prior. Were you a nobleman? If not, who were you back then?”

“I was the crown prince of Sakura. Before it was renamed to Neo Osaka.”

You turned onto your left side to look at Yuta and found he was already facing you. He pulled at the grass. “The Nakamoto family,” you said, recalling some of the castle’s history from your research.

“So you’ve heard of us.” Yuta met your eyes.

“The history books aren’t very kind, I’m afraid,” you admitted.

Yuta laughed. “Really? Tell me. What do they say?”

The Nakamoto family was the last of the royal line in Sakura before the country reformed. Sakura became a municipality called Neo Osaka. Nobility died quickly. Including any whisper of witchcraft.

“They called us devil-worshippers, didn’t they?” Yuta broke the ice.

How could you tell your new friend that his family’s name was dragged through the mud?

You nodded.

“They were jealous. The lot of them. My family had powers beyond anyone’s wildest dreams,” he said. You were surprised at how his words carried no emotion when they should’ve been spiteful.

“The books said your family was executed,” you quickly let out. Then, gingerly, you inquired, “But how could you still be at the castle?”

Yuta sighed. “You’re good. Getting to the root of my problem...My family wanted me to wed Princess Yena from Neo Seoul. Her family possessed the same powers we did. My parents believed that uniting our families would ensure the Nakamoto family’s eternal reign. Father and Mother were so excited to marry off their only son to a woman he didn’t love.”

And suddenly you had more in common with Yuta than you first thought.

“I didn’t want to marry her, y/n. I was young. I wanted to keep traveling. Meet more people. Improve my skills as a warlock. Maybe if I met Yena down the road, I...would’ve tolerated her as my wife. But as her family and my family pushed, I rebelled.”

Yuta began to shake. And with that, the illusion of Paris faded. You were back in the library, laying on the carpet.

You had a very bad feeling about this.

Yuta continued, “I planned to run and when I was about to, Yena and her family infiltrated the castle. In cold blood, before my very eyes, they murdered my family. My parents. My sisters. Our visiting relatives. All of my existing bloodline.”

You had no words. The only thing you could do was wait for him to finish this tragedy.

“Yena did the honors of saving me for last. And when it was my turn, she cast a curse on me. ‘Darling fiancé, may you haunt these halls for a millenium and remember how because of you, your entire family perished. You may never leave the perimeter. No one can touch you. You can be seen but can never have the warmth and affection of another’.”

You stood there, silent. Heartbroken for the man who stood before you.

He was quiet for a moment. You knew well enough not to say anything along the lines of “my heart goes out to you” or “that’s terrible”. You knew it wouldn’t do any good. It killed you not knowing what to do.

Because you wanted to help him. How? Hell if you knew.

Yuta cried silently, tears falling down and hitting your knees as you sat close to him.

You reached for him and wiped his tears away. Yuta looked at you and the most enchanting smile appeared.

“But you...y/n...you can touch me,” he rejoiced.

That puzzled the both of you. You didn’t know what this could mean. But it gave you great joy seeing how happy it made him.

“If that’s the case...then the curse is not all-binding. You may be the answer, y/n.”

No pressure, you thought to yourself.

Yuta lived with regret all of his afterlife and to find that you could be the key to his freedom...it gave him hope. He took your hands in his and begged, “Please help me. I need you.”

You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into but your heart was telling you that this was where you were meant to be. At this very moment. With this man who was too wonderful for words to describe.

You nodded fervently, “Of course, I will.”

Yuta thanked you profusely and kissed your cheek. You blushed and your eyes shot out.

Yuta apologized, “I’m sorry. I got a little excited, that’s all.” But you could see the smug look on his face. He liked having an effect on you.

You didn’t know this but from the moment Yuta first saw you, he was smitten. From your rose-colored cheeks. To your grace as you danced with that ogre Jaehyun. To the trust you two immediately had for each other in a short span of time. Yuta knew there had to be a reason why you were the only one who could touch him.

And that he was set on finding out.

To Be Continued

A/N: Hey it’s Ari! It’s been long overdue: a Yuta AU! When Yuta covered “White”, I was even more sure I wanted to write this. “Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi served as a big inspiration. Shoutout to Krys for the inspiration behind the title of “Snowflake”, originally called The Winter Prince. I hope you enjoy! PS LETSLOVEYUTAONTHISBLOGALILMORETAEYONGISGREATBUTYUTAISJUSTASGREATKTHANKSBYE