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fawnandshadows · 3 years ago

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After The Ceremony - Chapter 1

Hey Guys!

This is the first chapter of a mini Elriel fanfiction that I'm working on. You can also read it on AO3

Summary: Elain and Azriel after Nesta and Cassian's Mating Ceremony.

Words: 1,847

Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony has long since been over, but Elain couldn’t bring herself to go back to her room. No, Elain had too much restless energy to even attempt to fall asleep tonight, and instead of tossing and turning in her bed all night, she decided she may as well be useful and start to clean up. It took only ten minutes of laying in her bed, staring at the ceiling, before silently walking downstairs to the ballroom. Nuala and Cerridwen offered to help her, and Elain knew that they wouldn’t have minded staying up all night to clean with her, but she really just wanted to be alone. So, the twins like everyone else went to bed, and Elain stayed in the ballroom of Feyre and Rhysand’s River House putting herself to use.

There was something about being alone in the middle of the night that just seemed right to Elain, when everyone else was sleeping, she didn’t have to worry about putting on a face for everyone to see. She didn’t have to plaster a smile on her face while her heart was cracking in her chest. It was a test of her resolve today, Elain thought, as she pretended, yet again, that everything was alright. It took everything in Elain, every ounce of will power and restraint, to not break down and cry in the middle of the ballroom as she saw a familiar rose necklace around somebody else's neck.

Elain wanted to cry, scream, and cry some more whenever she looked at Gwyn, or Azriel, or even Mor. Especially Mor, when Elain saw her dancing and smiling with Azriel. It just felt so wrong. It should be Elain wearing his necklace, and it should be Elain in his arms as they spun around the room completely oblivious to everyone else.

After seeing Gwyn wearing her necklace, Elain immediately turned to leave the room because all she wanted was to be alone with her feelings and not worry about someone seeing through her fake smile, but as soon as she turned she caught a glimpse of the sun and a shadow dancing across the floor.

Elain had never seen Mor and Azriel dance together, and she never wanted to, especially when watching them smile at each other ruined whatever was left of her heart. They looked so incredibly beautiful together, and Azriel was smiling down at Mor with a warmth Elain hadn’t seen since the last solstice when she made him laugh. And Mor was smiling up at Azriel with an ease Elain had never noticed between them.

Confusion danced in her chest with every other emotion she was feeling.

Elain was only forced out of her staring from a heavy arm that fell across her shoulders. She blinked and a drunk Cassian appeared in front of her face, a stupid grin strectched across his face that was the result of unadulterated love and copious amounts of wine.

“Dance with me!” Cassian pulled her onto the dance floor, snapping her out of her imminent depression and into a crowded dance floor.

Elain let out a sign and continued sweeping the surprisingly messy floor. It seemed like most of the cake she and the twins had baked for the party ended up on the marble floor somehow, but she supposed that drunken fae couldn’t be expected to be tidy. The full moon illuminated most of the room, but there were still some faelights along the wall that added just enough light for her work. After sweeping, and picking up a surprising amount of glasses from the floor, Elain collected the bouquets from the tables.

It took her months to craft five bouquets for the ceremony, one for Nesta, and four for the women standing beside her. The core of Nesta’s bouquet were red carnations, pink roses, with bursting dahlias. Every bouquet held pink acacia’s - the flower of friendship. Feyre’s bouquet consisted of blooming magnolia’s and eye-catching violets. Her own was made from magnolias, nightshade, and a sprinkle of periwinkles. Emorie’s held vibrant hyacinths with white jasmine, and Gwyn’s bouquet was crafted from lavender, morning glories, oleanders. All the flowers were grown and cultivated by Elain herself, and she felt a shimmer of pride as she looked upon them.

Elain was getting ready to move the bouquets and their vases from the ballroom into the dining room, thinking they would look nice in a room where her family spends most of their time, when a familiar shiver floated down her spine. She didn’t look up as she said, “Hello, Azriel.” She knew he would reveal himself to her.

“It’s late. You should be sleeping.” His deep voice blended in with the night, causing her knees to weaken slightly and her eyelids to relax. What she wouldn’t give to fall asleep with that voice whispering in her ear while his fingers slid against her skin. What she wouldn’t give to stay awake all night with his voice in her ears and his fingers on her skin. Elain lost count of how many times she lost herself in thought as she tried to imagine what his lips would feel like against her throat.

“So should you,” Elain said, turning her body slightly to see him walk further into the room from where he leaned against the doorway. “I thought everyone was asleep. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

“Do you normally spend your nights cleaning up after drunken fae?” Azriel asked as he approached her. He stood maybe two feet away, but Elain could still feel the warmth radiating off his body. Another shiver made its way down her spine. Her skin felt so sensitive in his presence that it was hard to focus on anything besides him.

“Normally just Cassian,” Elain attempted to joke. Her chest felt slightly lighter as she noticed the twitch of his lips. It was a mistake looking at his lips. Her tongue brushed against her own that suddenly felt dry. “Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”

Azriel nodded. No words, no explanation, no attempt at conversation.

“You’re a lovely dancer.” Elain said, unable to stop herself, but she wanted him to know that she noticed him. She wanted him to know that she wished it was her in his arms dancing in front of everyone else.

“Thank you. You didn’t dance much at all.” Azriel noted and Elain felt the warmth of a blush on cheeks.

She gave a small shrug and said, “I was only asked by Cass, Rhys, and Lucien.”

Rhys was the first to offer her a dance, and she loved her brother-in-law too much to say no. Rhys was a lovely dancer, and she fought to keep a smile on her face under his prying eyes. Her dance with Cassian involved mostly her propping him up so that he didn’t collapse on the floor. Her dance was Lucien was non-existent.

“Why didn’t you dance with him?” Azriel asked softly. If it wasn’t the dead of night she wouldn’t have heard it.

“I don’t want to give him false hope,” Elain said, taking a fortifying breath before she continued, “It’s wretched to think you have a chance, a connection, to someone when you don’t.” She prayed to the Mother that Azriel didn’t notice her shaky breath, her racing heart, or how it took all of her bravery to say that.

In the soft glow of the faelights Elain saw a flinch run across Azriels face. It took him a moment longer than usual to school his features into their usual mask, but he couldn’t hide the pain that shimmered in his eyes.

The similarities weren’t lost on Elain. How this night resembled that of the solstice. Azriel and Elain being the only two people awake in the house. Her mate sleeping upstairs. The same crackling excitement rushing through her. The hope that maybe she would finally feel the brush of his lips against hers, and she wouldn’t have to speculate about what he tasted like anymore.

“Elain.” Azriel said her name as if it pained him.

“Why did you do it?” She whispered hotly. “Why did you give my necklace away? Why did you dance with Mor and look at her as if she were the only female in the room?” Before her bravery completely ran out she took a step forward, grabbed his hand, and placed it against her heart. “Did you feel this break tonight?”

His hand was hot against the thin cotton of her nightgown. She could just barely feel the traces of his scars. Elain wished there was nothing between them.

“Because it did,” Elain continued. “It broke every time I looked at you. It broke when I saw the necklace, and it broke when I saw how beautiful you and Mor looked.”

“Elain,” Azriel said, his voice harsh, his hand pressed further into her as if he too wished there was no nightgown separating them. “I want to, but I can’t.”

“I don’t understand,” Elain stared at his churning hazel eyes. She couldn’t help the lonesome tear that slid down her face. She was about to wipe it away when he beat her to it. His large, warm, wonderful hand brushed away her tear before cupping her cheek. Despite the pain that was growing in her chest, she would feel it all again if it meant his skin on hers. She would withstand any pain if it kept them together. “Make me understand.”

“I want to kiss you,” Azriel said. Elain felt each word as it brushed against her face. “I want to rip this nightgown from your body, lay you on the table, spread your legs open and feast until I’m drunk off the taste of you. I want to slide into you until I’m the only thing on your mind, and then I want to bring you so much pleasure you’ll never want to be away from me. And once you found your pleasure, I’d take you upstairs and do it all again. If I ever got a hold on myself I would make love to you the way you deserve.”

Elain, loving the warmth and wetness that flooded her core, felt as if she was about to combust. One tiny spark and she would erupt into flame.

“And why can’t we do that?” Elain asked quietly, as if she were afraid of ruining the moment. As if she were afraid he would slip away from her yet again.

“Rhy’s pulled rank on me.” Azriel replied. The only sign of tension was the muscle that contracted in his jaw. Elain ignored the urge to run her tongue over it.

“Huh?” Elains brain was too hazed with desire to form a proper sentence.

“He forbid it.” Azriel replied, tilting his head forward slightly, and brushing his nose against hers. The breath that floated across her face threatened to knock her over.

“Forbid what?” Elain managed to get out - too absorbed in him to think clearly.

“Us.”

Elain didn’t have time to think about what Azriel said as his lips descended on hers.

#elain archeron #azriel #elain acotar #elriel fanfic #pro elriel #elriel fanfiction #elain x azriel #elriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar

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the-crows-typist · 4 years ago

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Here’s the fourth installment of your Valentine’s event (Yes, I know it’s March but IRL stuff happens y’know? This time we have Kalim paired with the word ‘Flowers’ requested by @opalmaplehibiscus .Enjoy!

CW: Hanahaki AU (Non-lethal variant), Angst with a happy ending, potential OOC, Minor talks about death

Word count: 3656

Other works: Chocolates Feat. Jade, Cards Feat. Floyd, Kiss Feat. Vil

A Heart From Me to You

Kalim loved to look at flowers regardless of where he saw them. He loved the way the petals touched his skin and the many scents, whether sweet or strong, he breathed into his nose. Visiting the school’s botanical garden was one of his ‘hidden favorite things’ to do, he puts it as hidden as Jamil and he was glued to the hip since birth and while he never minded that Jamil was close by, there were moments he wished to be alone.

It was a very selfish want, he admitted to himself.

“Phew.” He breathed a relieved sigh, finally able to enter the garden without much of a problem. The sound of birds is what calmed him and the familiar scent of stored water was what brought him a sense of renewal. Taking one of the watering cans, Kalim began watering the flowering plants with not much thought going into it.

The flowers were beautiful, they truly were. They were very lucky to be this beautiful and to be held in such high regard for it. Yes, the flowers were indeed lucky contrary to his being; he never thought of himself the way he viewed the flowers and while he enjoyed some perks of his life thanks to his family’s achievements, it came with the same amount of misfortune and realities usually too dark for people his age to perceive.

Many people get hurt or even die for his sake, his siblings don’t get as much attention from their father as they liked because he, the eldest, is in the way and deep down he knew and felt the boiling resentment many had for him.

He doesn’t blame anyone for thinking that. It was a hard pill that Kalim was used to swallowing.

Perhaps had he been born a flower, life would have been easier for everyone including him.

He continued his watering until the can was empty and only then did he go back to the hose to refill it. The foliage on the way there was thick, he figured it hadn’t been cut for a while and made a note to himself to find some hedge clippers. He wasn’t allowed to hold knives, that’s true, but hedge clippers don’t count, right?

Lost In his internal debate, a quick set of feet ran and collided with his side harshly, Kalim and the unknown student losing their balance with a collective sound of surprise. “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” You held your hands to yourself, as if hurt when Kalim slowly inched forward. “A-are you hurt? I can take you to the clinic if you—!” He was suddenly pushed out of the way, your hands only touching him for a moment before running off.

Kalim watched in confusion, blinking when the door slammed shut. The smell of lavender hit his nose and his eyes loomed downwards to see that the area you had touched had been taken over by the flowering buds of lavender. “This wasn’t here before.” He whispered to himself and attempted to pull at the flowers carefully out of the fabric.

When he finished his resting time, Jamil was waiting outside the botanical garden looking very upset. “You ran off again.” He said in the most seething voice Kalim was used to hearing. “Look, I can explain.” And back to reality it was, playing as the happy-go-lucky person people knew him as. While he enjoyed the time to himself, he hated how short it lasted. But now, he has to keep face, he has to be what he was expected to be.

Jamil takes his hand but Kalim’s smile only wavers a little bit. Here we go. “No amount of explaining will change the fact that you were alone. You should be more careful, Kalim. What if—?”

There was a biting sensation on his skin, the two boys looking down and on Jamil’s skin sprouted small white blossoms and enticing black berries. They both reeled from each other, Jamil holding his hand and Kalim his wrist.

He suddenly remembers you, bumping into him during his internal discussion.

“Kalim…” Jamil’s eyes were wide in fear. “Your…”

The nightshade flowers withered under the sun, its poisonous berries drying and falling to their feet in clumps.

Wearing gloves in warm weather wasn’t the nicest feeling but it had to be done. After the confirmation that Kalim had indeed been cursed, Jamil had become vigilant and stricter with his role as protector. There wasn’t a time he was ever alone in one room. His selfishness has come to bite him back, Kalim thought to himself.

He looked to his hands with a huff. The curse didn’t seem harmful, just inconvenient…And the one who gave it, You, didn’t seem like it was intentional. The meeting between you two was brief, only lasting a few seconds and a few shed flowers.

“Kalim, let’s go,” Jamil said, tugging him along and walking by his side every step of the way.

Ah, how would he know anyway? He’s not good at anything like Jamil nor does he have the physical capabilities as he does. The only thing he’s probably good at is flying a magic carpet and the drums.

“Yeah.”

Kalim was quiet on their walk and until he sat down in the classroom, he kept silent. Class started without much trouble, he took notes but couldn’t listen much, his mind wandering back to you in the botanical garden.

Lab classes had a sort of freedom to it. Kalim was able to work around a bit more his gloves and Jamil would often be paired with someone else…Usually Azul. Kalim noticed that despite their different interest, Jamill and Azul had grown closer in the past months. And while he was happy for them both, there was a sting that never wanted to leave.

He and Kalim were born around the same time and since then never left each other’s side. He was there when Kalim needed him and he was his friend, probably his only friend. That was, at least, what he wanted to believe but even during their childhood, Kalim had already noticed that Jamil was with him because he was told to. Had Jamil been given the choice, he could have played with someone else other than him.

“Excuse me, would you like to start?” His partner asked and he blinked, nodding his head and smiling the way he always does. “Yeah! Let’s work hard.”

He stayed in the corner, eyes looking at particularly nothing. He and his partner finished up early and got a good enough score for it…Which is good, he’ll take a passing grade than a failed mark any day. He looked over to the side of the ceiling and his hands intertwined with each other. In the back, Jamil smiled at Azul’s demise after hot smoke bellowed from the cauldron and out to their face.

It had been a while since he saw Jamil looking that happy. There was stinging itchiness in his hands that went with the heaviness in his heart. The gloves grew tighter and less comfortable and Kalim wanted to take it off, but showing he had been cursed meant showing others he was vulnerable.

The itchiness and the cold warmth of fear felt were too great. He needed a change of environment, he needed alone time. He took one last look at a laughing Jamil then slinked off and out of the lab, almost running to a place he knows he’ll be safe.

The botanical garden was silent and unchanged, its flowers blooming in different colors and hues, the temperature a mix of tropical and temperate. He smiled upon seeing Leona rest against a tree and soon walked deeper and deeper into the gardens to a place where he could relax. Discarding his gloves, he let his hands touch the tree stumps, flowers of Helenium growing on the bark and providing color in an otherwise dimly lit landscape with the trees acting as a canopy.

Kalim sighs, letting his thought leave whichever way it can. The flowers bloomed under his palm and he reveled in its beauty, just by being born it was able to bring a sort of happiness to those who choose to look at it.

His shoulders droop slightly, his line sight dipping to a tree’s roots. His hands begin to scratch and he begins to scratch on the skin of his palms, begging his body and the curse to stop. He rubbed his palms together, the tattered stems and petals falling to the ground in a heap. “Please stop.” He begged to himself. “Please make it stop.”

He closed his eyes, brows furrowed and shaking. The flowers crept up his skin over his hands. “Please stop.” Hunching over, he brought his hands to his chest. “Please…”

“Please,”

“Calm down.”

Picking the flowers out of his skin was an odd experience and even more that someone else was doing it. Your hands were wrapped with bandages and eyes searching for even the tiniest blossoms on his skin. Kalim sniffed, rubbing his eyes with a now flower-free hand. “That’s it, just let it all flow out.” You said and pick the last flower from his hand.

“Festering emotions are what power the curse.” You explain. “You have to let it out or else the flowers will consume you.” He takes his gloves out of his hand and slips them back on and you sit up straight, an embarrassed smile formed on your lips. “I suppose I should its high time that I introduce myself—.”

“You’re the one who bumped into me.”

You nod your head. “Yes, and you’re Kalim Al-Asim, dorm leader of Scarabia.” With a voice gentle, Kalim felt at ease but what his eyes saw betrayed the feeling immediately. “Please forgive me, I didn’t know that it would pass onto you so suddenly.” You bowed, forehead touching the ground in your position.

You waited for a reaction, anything, but as time passed you never heard anything nor did you feel any anticipated touches. “It’s a little embarrassing seeing you like this, raise your head,” Kalim said and you did what you were told. He looked down at his hands, a few blossoms stayed on his skin.

“How long have you had it?” Kalim asked, placing a hand over yours and the touch making you twitch. “This curse.” He clarifies, your eyes holding the quivering vulnerability only presented to him alone.

“For a long while now.”

Kalim didn’t know how long he had spent in the gardens just talking to you, knowing what the curse had to offer. You always made sure none of your skin ever touched anything or peaked out of your uniform. While you were gentle and kind, Kalim saw fear in your actions.

“The curse only latches onto anyone with festering feelings…Perhaps,” Kalim looks at his hand while you pause as if what you were about to say would sound very mean-spirited. “Perhaps that’s why it latched onto you, too.”

It was near evening when he got out, his heart not as heavy but speedy knowing that he had to face a very upset Jamil for being selfish and unguarded. He walked down the steps, already seeing the familiar figure at the bottom; Jamil’s brows were furrowed and expression angry.

The two of them stared at each other and Jamil turned his back. “Let’s go home.”

You had told him prior that you lived inside the garden, in a special cottage that was hidden from view. It must be nice, he thought to himself. Jamil took Kalim by the wrist and pulled him close, walking to his stride.

“Is there a way to break this curse?” He asked and your smile deflated but only for a short while. “I wish I could tell you,” You say. “But I don’t know, either.”

From the evening setting of Night Raven, Kalim was welcomed to the familiar home of the Scarabia dorm. The two walked to the entrance quietly and soon Jamil let go of him, turning around. “Is there something I need to know about?”

“Festering emotions are what power the curse.” He remembered you explaining to him and suddenly his palms began to itch. He shook his head, giving him the happy-go-lucky smile he was used to seeing. “You were having fun so I thought it’d be best to leave you alone.”

“Just…” He could hear the frustration in his voice before the eventual sigh of exhaustion. “Just don’t run off by yourself. It would spell bad things if you’d gotten hurt.”

Jamil shook his head and went on his way, leaving Kalim alone. Now that they were in the safety of the dorms, he could rest…Both of them could. Kalim quickly takes off his gloves and pressed his palms together, breathing in deep and for the first time in a while let the tears fall from his eyes.

His breathing was slow and steady, his walking slightly shakey and laborious but his palms no longer itched and the flowers halted in their growth. When he entered his room, he plopped his face into his pillow and letting it soak up all that he had felt.

Flowers were beautiful and revered for just being alive. Flowers were born lucky and he wasn’t. He breathed in deep and moved away from the pillow to breathe, his thoughts went back to your face with a smile so delicate like thin glass.

“There are moments I wanted to be born as a flower.”

Evading Jamil and regrouping with you was a new normal for him, waiting for the right moment that Jamil is busy or focused on something or someone before bolting. The botanical garden was immediately a no-go after he had caught you there twice so the two of you decided to set course for a place no one normally goes to.

The fields blew, the tall sunflowers dancing in the wind and keeping both of you hidden from sight. You huffed a small laugh. “What kind of flower would you have wanted to be like?” Kalim touched the fibrous stem of the sunflower.

“Maybe a sunflower. People like them and they give really tasty seeds.” Bringing his knees together, Kalim’s expression shifted to one of deep thought. The sun cast a soft light over them, his eyes almost glowing like rubies under it.

The brief silence between you harbored no negativity but one of understanding. You and he had bonded with the small time together and Kalim knew very well that you wouldn’t run away from these kinds of conversations. You listened and you replied with what resonated with you.

He liked your honesty and he didn’t spare any effort to show his appreciation to you.

“What about you?” He asked, looking over to you as you thought about it.

“An osiria rose. They look really pretty and the petals are white with red tips.” Smiling to yourself, you look into your hands. “It’s a rare flower and takes a lot of breeding mixes to perfect. I really like it.” Kalim hummed and looked up to the sky as the wind crashed against them.

“Flowers are really lucky, huh?” He said, leaning back with his palms flat on the ground. “No matter how dangerous or how defensive a flower is, people still like it just because.” You never mentioned it to him but Kalim was good at hiding. His eyes, to his lips, and to the very voice he used with you; there was never a time you actually saw his grief that way he saw yours.

“The very first time Jamil was poisoned back when we were young I didn’t know what to do with myself.” His fingers shook and removed his glove and letting his bare skin grow flowers on the ground he touched, allowing flowers to grow where he touched. “He didn’t wake up until weeks later while I was escorted around by different people.” You blinked, leaning your head towards him.

“I’m sure his family was worried, his sister tried her best not to show it but I knew better.” Feeling your head on his shoulder, he reciprocated the action with a small laugh. “That was probably the time I realized how unlucky my origins were.”

“Kalim.”

“It’s a stretch, I know.” His smile morphed into a frown. “I don’t like asking for much knowing how much effort people have to make to get it done.” Your hand held his and soon, your fingers closed onto each other. “I’m fine. I just wanted to vent—.” He said but you only shook your head.

“It’s okay to cry, Kalim. I won’t say anything.” And he did, he continued looking forward yet the tears betrayed neutral expression. He sniffled when you continued to hold his hand.

“I met someone special back then. They made me very happy.” The both of you needed to move hiding places when Jamil caught wind of your meeting without him, the two of you opt to go to a field behind the school. A place not a lot of people go to, the flowers were not bountiful where you sat and the air was cooler.

While the bluebells were scattered in patches, coloring the meadow blue and green. “But I was young and stupid like most people, I thought they’d be with me for a long time.” You smiled at him, chuckling. “It’s silly but, I was really sad when they left.

“They meant a lot to you, didn’t they?” Kalim wondered.

“The meant the world to me.”

The both of you smile and your hand brought itself to your lip, a finger hooked under it. “It’s silly, really. It’s nothing like what you went through. I was so hung up on it that I ended up getting hit with the curse.” Kalim places a hand on your back as you laugh with a bitter taste in your mouth. “It’s silly, I know. It’s nothing compared to what you went through.”

“Still, losing someone important hurts a ton. Especially when you couldn’t get to say goodbye.”

Nodding your head, you lean against Kalim’s shoulder and he does the same by leaning against you. The bluebells flutter into the wind, your nose sniffling and eyes carrying a lingering sting. Kalim’s hand goes to your shoulder, rubbing it.

You hold your palms, scratching at it through the wrap. “Thank you for listening, Kalim.” You say, rubbing your eyes slightly. “I really appreciate it.”

Kalim stared into the distance, holding you close to him and not minding what little tears you chose to let out in front of him. “You did the same for me.”

The tendency to be clumsy often comes at the worst times, Kalim and your hands were wetted with some nice fruit juices he managed to snag when Jamil wasn’t looking. Both his gloves and your wraps lay soaked on the ground in front of you.

“I…” Kalim sighed and you shook your head. “Those things do get hard to wear after some time. It’s nice to feel the air again.” You rub your hands together, palms soft after being confined for so long. Kalim sits on the ground across from you. “I’m sorry, I’m sure we can find something to wrap your hands with.”

“Yup.”

The both of you looked at the items before you in silence, both of your hands to themselves and never touching at all. “Do you ever…Do you miss being able to touch things?” You ask him and he nods his head. “I do. I miss being able to feel brooms and the blankets I have. I try not to mind it much.”

You ball your palms together, interlacing fingers over each other. “I see.” Suddenly you bring out your hand to his, palm open for him to take. “But…” He hesitates but his hand comes out slowly. “It’s alright to ask for things.” You say. “Go on.”

He took a breath in, his hand inching towards yours. He thought about his first meeting and the many times he evaded Jamil just to be with you.

“I trust you.”

Did he really deserve to be able to ask for this? After all the things he’s caused?

“I do too.”

Your hands touched and mirrored each other; the itchiness he expected to feel was no longer present. The silence was tense and his shoulders and breathing were shaking yet your hold on him calm with a knowing and relieved smile on your lips. Your eyes met one another and Kalim smiled, lacing his fingers with yours and pulling you into him into a hug; his laugh tingling beside your ear.

Your hands feel the softness of the fabric and your nose breathed in the scent of his clothes. You closed your eyes, burying your face into his shoulder, bidding farewell to the old and welcoming the new as you imagined a new life ahead of you. A pot of olive flowers blooms not too far from your position as you two shared an embrace long-awaited.

Peace had been found between two kindred souls. Finally, after so long.

#works from the typewriter #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #kalim al asim x reader #kalim x reader #g/n reader #valentines event

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boatcats · 5 years ago

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Safe Friends

Books are cold, but safe friends.

- Victor Hugo, Les Miserables.

After the Tour des Minimes, Lymond counts out the days of his recovery in books he’s read. And he makes a friend.

CHAPTER ONE

Because this has somehow morphed into a whole … thing.

CW under the cut.

CW for emetophobia (really), poison, injury recovery, illness, nightmares, difficulties with food, and some implied medical trauma.

They got him to Sevigny.

Though Lymond wasn’t aware of this triumph till some hours after it happened, having fainted halfway through the journey. By the time he learned of it, his arrival was old news and the household was asleep.

He woke in the dark with the wind sighing in the trees outside. He froze, breathing slow, unsure of where he was. Then, in the halflight from under the door, he recognized the room, the bed. He closed his eyes, letting relief wash over him in waves, as exhausted as if he’d made the entire journey on foot.

He stayed awake long enough to find the glass of water by the bed and drink (he examined the water carefully first - far more carefully than he might have done three months before). He even set the glass down again before he fell asleep. He felt vaguely proud of that as he drifted off.

Archie arrived in the morning, announcing himself with a knock at the door. A knock meant choice - the choice to say “come in” or, temptingly, “go away.”

Francis Crawford hadn’t had a lot of choice lately. But that was over. He wasn’t going to dwell on it.

“Come in,” Lymond said.

Archie opened the door, smiling hugely, and Lymond had a flash of memory - Archie’s cool, roughened palm gentle on his forehead as the stress of the journey to Sevigny became too much, the world dissolving into black and a series of disjointed images then nothing.

“Alright, lad, I imagine you want a wash and the like?”

Lymond really, really did.

He wanted a wash. And then he wanted to lie in the sun with his nose in a book and no one and nothing depending upon him. Maybe he wanted to try eating something.

Well. That last was a lie; his insides were already threatening rebellion. But he knew he needed to try.

Florisando

He managed the wash. And he managed to stay awake long enough afterwards to eat three bites of porridge and read a paragraph of Florisando. When he nodded off and fell forward it was onto the book and not into the porridge. Small favors.

The next day he read Florisando and ate more porridge and slept.

He dreamt that he was singing Aucassin et Nicolette to men chained to their oars, sweating and bleeding in the sea-dark. He woke gasping, his heart hammering. Somehow he kept the porridge down.

He finished Florisando. He would have to read it again at some point. He hardly remembered the plot.

He was trying not to notice the pain. He was trying to focus on the pain in a way that stopped it from existing - to make a home inside of it. A castle’s defenses weren’t arrayed against the ones within. And if you stared at a white wall long enough it would blur into nothing.

God, but it was ceaseless. (Relax, relax - it’s been ceaseless before).

Perhaps it would be better to read an old favorite.

The Iliad

He wasn’t falling asleep in the middle of tasks anymore. But sometimes it was hard to sleep at night. Aegri somnia. Sick people dream too much. Lymond read Homer by candlelight…

and dreamed he was playing the lute for a faceless crowd, the strings cutting his fingers to ribbons. He could taste the nightshade at the bottom of his glass. What had he done wrong?

He woke with his chest heaving. He started being sick almost before he was fully conscious.

It seemed as though the entire household fussed over him afterwards - a blur of hands and faces. He sent them away as soon as he could and finished The Iliad that same night. Sleep had become deeply unappealing.

Healing felt like the siege of Troy, he thought. Sweat and dirt and the taste of iron and too many hands touching him. Then he thought, “How trite.”

The Odyssey

Obviously, the next reasonable choice.

Opera Nova dell'Arte delle Armi

He was walking. He was walking around the grounds of Sevigny.

The progress was awkward. His right arm was still bandaged; his left hand was white knuckled on the handle of his cane. Soon his left wrist joined his right in aching. It seemed they took turns, bouncing the ache back and forth between them like a game of catch.

Nonetheless, he was walking. Everything else was by the way.

Caetera desunt.

He walked to the library to read Marozzo in an armchair by the fire. A change of scenery - he was becoming well traveled! But the fire was warm and, ensconced in the chair, he fell asleep.

He woke to a soft weight on his knee and looked down to find a huge mongrel snoring with its head in his lap. It appeared to be part wolfhound and a diverse variety of other dogs, most of them bred to guard livestock. He shifted and it woke, looking up at him with friendly yellow eyes.

Lymond felt his mouth twitch into a lopsided smile. “Hullo, chimera. Did you come here to read? You’re doing a bad job of it. You seem to have fallen asleep.”

The dog nosed at his palm, successfully levering his hand out of his lap and immediately inserting its head beneath his fingers to be petted.

Laughing, Lymond relented and scratched it behind one shaggy ear.

“Alright. You’ve proved me wrong. I see you’ve been reading Pythagoras while I’ve been napping.”

It tried to follow him back to his room. He almost let it in.

He woke after midnight because something was whining at his door. He sighed, got up, and let the dog in. “Good evening, Melusine. Welcome. I’d nearly take you for an Erskine given recent events. Can I assist you with something?” The dog huffed in response and settled itself next to the fire. Good, because he wasn’t going to let it sleep in his bed.

Lymond woke in the morning to a cold nose on his pillow. He addressed the owner of the nose seriously. “So much for vigilance. I suppose you snuck beneath the quilt to protect me from wolves? I should send you away for insubordination.” Then, overcome by the unlookedfor comfort, he pressed his face into the soft fur of its chest. The dog sighed contentedly and dropped its chin to his close-cropped hair.

They stayed like that for fifteen minutes.

REFS:

Florisando was an (unauthorized) sequel to Don Quixote’s favorite book. Unlike its predecessor, it was universally panned. You can get it for free on Google Books. Jus’ sayin.

Aegri somnia trans: sick man’s dreams. According to my trusted friend Wikipedia. Sure hope that’s right….

Opera Nova dell'Arte delle Armi was a treatise on fencing. Back to work for Lymond. He has plans.

Caetera desunt trans: the rest is missing. Again, according to my friend Wikipedia. Lymond’s making a terrible bilingual pun. The rest is missing. In that … he’s walking around and not resting. Look, I didn’t say it was funny.

Pythagoras because levers and stuff. I know a doggo who does this and it’s the cutest.

Melusine is a tragic, legendary figure who it is said can be heard crying around the walls of castles.

#lymond fanfic #lymond whump #lymond #lymond chronicals #the fic with the books and the doggo #queens' play #injury cw #emetophobia #poison cw #trauma cw #nightmares cw

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the-obsessive-fangirl · 7 years ago

Text

Winter's Night Ch1

“Again!” Madame B shouted in my ear. I didn’t even bat an eyelid. The Red Room were ruthless and thorough in their training. Assets were to be killing machines. No fears, no emotions, no pain. I held two guns in my hands. I flawlessly swapped the cartridges and held them up to the target. I fired five shots from each gun before throwing them in the air, swapping hands before emptying the bullets into the target. There was only one hole. In between the eyes. “Excellent.” She whispered in my ear. “You’ll be a perfect match for him.” I retained a shudder at her voice and who she was referring to. Everyone here and probably anywhere had heard of the Winter Soldier. Russia’s prized assassin. The current programme was to find a female partner for him. They said dual sex partnerships worked best. No one questioned them; those who did never returned. Madame B walked slowly, her heels clacking sharply against the wooden floor. She stood silently before me and watched me. I maintained eye contact the whole time. Looking away was a sign of weakness. A voice spoke from behind me in Russian. “Is she the one?” Madame B scrutinised me looking for the slightly imperfection in my appearance and posture. “She is.” She replied in our native tongue. “They will acquaint themselves tomorrow.” The man walked forward and stood next to her but my eyes remained locked with hers. “They must be compatible. Until then, kill the others.” I saw a flicker of emotion in Madame’s eyes before I realised something. She had grown a slither of feeling towards the other assets. Internally I frowned. Emotion caused weakness which led to being compromised. You were to avoid being compromised at all costs. There is no such thing as failure at the Red Room. “Already done, sir.” She walked out and I remained facing ahead. “Look at me, asset!” My head snapped towards him. “What is your birth name?” The man asked. He had slicked back black hair, clearly dyed, and sharp grey eyes. “Arianna Katyna, sir.” My voice was crystal clear, only a slight Russian twinge was there. Assets had any idiosyncrasies or accents beaten out of them when they start training. Assets had to be untraceable. “Bury it. Never utter it, breathe it, or even think it because if you do, you’ll be begging for death.” “Understood, sir.” I wasn’t expecting the slap that hit my right cheek. I barely felt the pain before I compartmentalised away in my head. “I did not ask you to understand it! I told you to bury it! Assets do not speak unless spoken to!” The man got up in my face. I remained stoic, not even blinking until he took a step back. “You are the asset. You now go by Nightshade unless told other wise.” I nodded once. “You are to come here in your uniform at 0500. Don’t be late.” He walked out the room. I waited until his footsteps receded before letting out the slightest of sighs. Time to prepare.

—————————————————————————————————————————————–

I walked silently into the training room as the clock strikes five. Punctuality was the first thing that was drilled in us. There was only the candlelit chandelier in the middle of the room casting light and even then it wasn’t a lot. In the corner of the room a man sat silently watched my every movement. He stood up fluidly, the metal of his left arm catching the light. The Red star was prominent on his shoulder as he wore his uniform. I stood to attention and watched his every movement. “Zimniy Soldat.” I greeted formally. “Paslen.” He responded. “You two are to work together. To shape the future. From now one you are one and the same. You have one hour before your initiation mission. Get to know the other’s techniques. You are now a single machine.” The man from yesterday walked in and stood to my left. “I am Volskov. First name irrelevant. I am your SO and CO rolled into one. You disobey and you both know the consequences.” “Da, ser.” We replied in sync. We looked at each other for a moment before looking at Volskov. “Begin.” He said before leaving. The Winter Solder slowly removed the facial equipment he was wearing and removed his weapons. I wasn’t stupid enough to believe he had removed all of them. He methodically laid them on the floor and motioned at me to do the same. I looked at him as I removed the short sword from my back followed by my tactical belt and guns. I removed the holster and sheath of knives from my shoulders. “We shall spar for 15 minutes, shoot for 15, abilities for 10, mission preparation for 20. Objections?” “Net.” I shook my head He took first swing. We were re-attaching our equipment after cleaning them when Volskov walked in. “I have observed your dynamics as a pair. You work efficiently together. You need to get better. The only people you trust are each other.” We both looked at the other before looking away. “You need to communicate more. Put these comms in. You are to use them. The only time you take them out is to wash. You’re mission is to wipe out this cartel. They think they are strong enough to over throw us. You prove them wrong.” I looked at Volskov asking a silent question. “Confirmed success in eighteen hours. You are going incognito. Safe house with further instructions is at these co-ordinates. There is a helicopter outside.” Volskov finished before abruptly leaving. He paused before he reached the door. “Soldier, do Nightshade’s hair the way you were told.” I was confused. Why would they need to do my hair? It was in a high ponytail, the way it had been since my first hour at the Red Room. We were told ponytails were practical and efficient. An asset should not spend more time then absolutely essential on her appearance. The Winter Soldier pushed my shoulder with his metal hand and I walked forward towards the helicopter that was waiting outside. The Soldier walked in and immediately started to flip switches and press buttons as I slid the door closed and locked it. After ten minutes of silent flight he pressed a series of buttons before unbuckling himself and walking towards me like a predator stalking its prey. It struck me that he could kill me so many ways before I could put up much of a fight, despite my multiple years of training. He quietly unbuckled me before he spoke. “Kneel here.” I complied and kneeled where he had pointed. My hands twitching to the knives attached to my boots. “Relax.” I felt him kneel down behind me and remove my sword. He placed it to our right purposely so I could see it. I felt his hands go to my hair and remove the band. I tensed as I felt my hair fall against my back in its chocolate brown waves. The sensation was foreign, my hair being down. The longest it was ever down was the five minutes we were allowed to shower at the Red Room. “Relax.” A quiet voice said from behind me and I relaxed slightly but remained on guard. I felt the Soldier put his hand in my hair and pull them through with a gentleness that shocked me. The Winter Soldier was doing my hair. We were always told that The Winter Soldier was ruthless, efficient and silent. That we had to idolise the soldat. That he never did anything unnecessarily, which we should do. That he never made mistakes. Yet here that man was doing my hair. I knew that shock would be evident on my face and suddenly was glad that the Soldier was behind me. This famous world-known assassin was currently doing my hair and was completely in control of the situation. That fact made me stop. I felt his hand go to the top of the back of my head and separate the hair he pulled on it gently and began. He kept picking up different pieces of my hair and adding them into whatever he was doing. It wasn’t until he was doing the length of my hair did I realise that he was braiding it. When he finished he stood up and walked around in front of me, assessing his work. He seemed to hesitate before extending his hand down to pull me up. I then hesitated before accepting his hand as he pulled me to my feet. I flew slightly as he put a bit to much force into the pull before letting go of my hand. He silently walked to the cockpit and pressed a sequence of buttons before taking the wheel again. I silently stalked forward and sat in the co-pilot seat. “Spasibo.” I said quietly, thanking the person next to me. The Soldier nodded. There was one thing that the trainers did get right. The Winter Soldier was an asset of mystery. We landed shortly later, in a clearing next to the safe house. We hadn’t said anything to each other since he did my hair and I had a feeling that that was how it was going to stay for a time. There was a black inconspicuous car in the driveway for us to use no doubt to get to the mission later. The safe house was more of a safe cabin but something about it made me feel at peace and told me not to underestimate it. The Soldier walked forward and pushed something by the door and pulled keys out of the section that had opened up. I quickly followed and stepped over the threshold. I looked around and saw a table with a couple of chairs to one side with a map of Europe hung above it. The Soldier quietly spoke next to me. “Volskov said that there was a package on your cot for you. He said it was for the mission.” He walked off to the kitchenette and began looking in all the cupboards. On the table there was a Manila folder which I quickly picked up.

Mission Briefing for The Winter Soldier and Nightshade

Target: Kilianov Ausikya Gender: Male Nationality: Russian Age: 37 Mission Perimeters: Ausikya will be at a ball to discuss a business transaction. The ball is to celebrate said transaction. Assets are to stop this transaction and neutralise the threat. Assets are to attend backroom meeting between the three and then neutralise, neutralisation must not have any witnesses. No collateral damage allowed. Aliases: Winter Soldier is to be known as Viktor Sherinov, businessman Nightshade is to be known as Anastasiya Sherinov, professional dancer The Sherinovs have been married for three years after meeting in Venice on business. They are high up in the oil trade and ‘need’ to land the secondary deal that is to be discussed.

I put down the folder. I would almost put money on the fact that the reason we were being a married couple was an attempt at getting us to ‘bond’. I looked at the Soldier who was looking through his arsenal. This was going to be awkward. Picking up the folder again, I slowly walked over to him and placed the folder on the table. “We have our orders.” I spoke quietly, not wanting to break the quiet atmosphere. He nodded once before returning to what he was doing. “I’m going to get ready.” I told him before quickly walking away.

It wasn’t hard to figure out which room was mine due to only one of us wore dresses. A dress that looked way to expensive for an asset like me to wear had been carefully hung on a hook next to the bed. The dress was a Greek style, all white apart from a silver shoulder detail. On the floor next to it was a box with delicate silver heels on top and a small jewellery box. On the bed was a note. Nightshade, These items are to come back in the condition they are now or else remember my previous threat. Love Volskov x

I felt an uncomfortable bubble rise in before I forcefully shoved it away. I was Nightshade, the assassin trained in the Red Room. I did not have emotions. I slipped out of my combat uniform and carefully placed my thigh sheath on the bed for me to put on. I checked the back of the dress to see how to put it on and saw an invisible zip. I quickly slipped the sheath on and tightened it appropriately. I tested my leg to make sure I could still move it normally before taking the dress. I changed my mind at the last minute and put the shoes on first, not wants to crease the beautiful dress. Carefully I slipped into the dress and slid my shoulder into it. I pulled up the zip. And looked in the mirror. My chocolate coloured hair was still in the braid that the Soldier had put it in and my deep blue eyes were framed by long dark lashes. My lips were a rosy pink and skin had a very light golden tone to it. The dress accented my curves and my complexion well. Remembering the jewellery box I quickly bent down and snatched it up, and upon opening it I saw diamond earrings. I quickly slipped them in, for once grateful to the Red Room’s painful methods of making us look normal to the extent of ear piercings. I caught my reflection in the mirror and silently stared as I spun myself in the mirror looking at different angles. This never would have happened in the Red Room. Clearly these people have a lot of money. An almost silent knock brought me out of my reverie. “Nightshade?” “Come in.” I replied. My breath caught in my throat as I saw the feared Winter Soldier in a tuxedo. That was something I thought I’d never see. “We need to leave or we’ll be late.” He said stiffly but I didn’t miss the way his eyes flitted down my body before he turned and left the room.

I was out of my depth surrounded by all these people who were practically rolling in money and associates. I sipped my champagne and smiled politely at a lady who was looking at me from across the room; she smiled back. I turned to my husband next to me and sent an award-winning smile at the man he was talking to. There was a high pitched tapping and everyone hushed. Kilianov Ausikya was stood on the stage and held a wired microphone in his hand. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to thank you all graciously for coming. As we all know tonight’s ball is held in honour of two critical business deals happening tonight. I would like to welcome Anna Valenkov to the stage!” The crowd cheered whilst myself and The Winter Soldier clapped politely, fake smiles plastered across our faces. Anna walked up onto the stage greeting Kilianov halfway. “I would also like to welcome Mr and Mrs Sherinov tonight but with a special request.”-Both of us tensed-“I heard about Anastasiya’s dancing background and couldn’t help wondering if you could treat us to a dance. Anastasiya and Viktor, would you mind?” He smiled at us when he saw us. Shit. The target’s asking me to dance with some guy that could snap me in half that I met around fourteen hours ago. Fan-bloody-tastic. This seemed like something that would happen in those movies the Red Room would force us to watch so we would know how to act like a lady. “It would be our honour, Kilianov.” The Soldier said politely. And he took my hand in his gloved metal one and pulled me towards the dance floor. Under his breath he whispered to me. “Do you know the Viennese Waltz?” I was taken aback by his question but didn’t let it show. “The Red Room is extensive in its training.” I nodded to him as we faced each other in the middle of the floor. “Good.” Kilianov spoke once again. “Do you know what dance you’re going to do?” I smiled brightly. “We were thinking of the Viennese Waltz, you know, since we met in Vienna.” I pretended to lean into the soldier’s chest lovingly. “How romantic!” A lady squealed somewhere behind me and people laughed. “I must agree with the beautiful lady; it’s a romantic choice. Band? Take it away.” The band started to play and Winter placed his hands on me gently but firmly. I quickly replied in kind. We swayed side to side before he spun me out and I twirled before going back into his arms. We span together and took the steps that had been seared into my memory. We tilted our arms left to right as we span in a circle. We swayed before Winter span me around him with one hand before pulling me in close. We repeated it all again, staring at each other the whole time. Suddenly he whispered in my ear as he pulled me close. “Do you trust me?” I paused before I replied. “Enough to stay alive tonight.” “I’m going to lift you and you need to smile.” I looked at him in shock. “Relax. 1..2…3!” He whispered as true to his word he lifted me onto his shoulder and I smiled and pointed my finger and feet. The audience cheered as he brought me down and spun me again. I twirled angelically as he pulled me close. We picked up the pace whilst remaining in time with the music as we spun around the floor faster with the classical steps. The music drew to a close but he didn’t let go of me as he searched my face. Suddenly becoming aware of our environment again he pretended to loving kiss my forehead before we pulled apart. Kilianov made yet another speech but neither of us were listening. We continued to mingle and receive compliments for our performance but we brushed them off as if they were nothing which they were. The dance was just part of the mission. Speaking of the mission, we pulled it off without a hitch; we slipped a toxin that caused cardiac arrest into Killianov’s drink just after he signed the deal with us meaning the other business transaction couldn’t happen. We were driving back to the safe house in silence, Winter was at the wheel, in complete silence. My thoughts were running rampant through my head as we pulled up. Winter unlocked the door and we were greeted by Volskov. “It seems like they got along just fine, sir.” He smirked. “It seems so.” Another man stepped into the light and held out a hand. “Alexander Pierce, pleasure to meet you.”

........ Message me to be in the tag list for this xx

#winter soldier imagine #wintersoldierimagine #hydra reader x winter soldier #red Room #marvel #james bucky barnes #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky imagine

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