#no matter if you are the bastard of the throne prince in the middle age

[thebadboyfanclub]

I Will Never Leave You (Daemon x Reader)

I think this more a love letter to Rhaenyra than anything but I’m really proud of this one cause I adore writing characters like this, I hope you guys enjoy it

Rhaenyra adored her mother since she drew her first breath, yet the woman she admired the most and desperately seemed her nod of approval was her beloved aunt (y/n) Targaryen, the middle child of prince Baelon and princess Alyssa, the seat between the brothers suited her, (y/n) had the good heart and the bright mind of her older brother that went hand in hand with the wild spirit and the constant need to protect the ones she called her own that she passed down to Daemon.

(Y/n) had been by Rhaenyras side when she needed her the most, wrapping her arms around the shaking frame of the young princess burying her face at the crook of (y/n)s neck.

“Dracarys”

Even though the dragon was not (y/n)s, beautiful Syrax complied whilst Rhaenyra broke down at the arms of her aunt, (y/n) ran her fingers through Rhaenyras long hair to offer her comfort as she whispered the lullaby she would sing to her when she was little.

She had also been the one to almost harass her beloved brother and king to name Rhaenyra his heir.

“As much as I love my lord husband, he is not fit to lead, the weight of the realm will crush him until he bursts into flames, we can prevent this, you can prevent this”

“And name Rhaenyra my heir? A queen has not sat the iron throne”

“Why not name the princess your heir? She is the second born”

Otto had questioned, (y/n) side eyed the man before she looked down to collect her thoughts, the wound of her brothers digging their claws on that piece of metal had brought such mental combat between them, turning blood against one another, if she had taken a go at them then all efforts for a harmonious family would have gone to war ages ago.

“I am afraid it is too late for me to claim what could have been or some could argue “should have been” but the time is just right for my niece, Rhaenyra is the result of the love you shared with the late queen Aemma, you have already wronged her, do not turn your back on the only thing you have left of her”

(Y/n) and Daemon had wed a fortnight after Viserys and Aemma, their wedlock’s were as similar as the sun with the moon, Daemon and (y/n) mirrored one another, their fire burned bright and their thick skulls could cause the the strongest storm to lash, still at the end of the day they ended up in each others arms, holding each other tight and whispering words of love and admiration.

(Y/n) was the only one that could keep Daemon on a leash, staying by his side as he raged for the “disrespect” their brother had shown, in a delicate manner (y/n) would always grab his hand and bring it up to her cheek to ground him.

“I love you and your bravery, however I do despise when you let your rage overtake everything that’s good in you, let me fix this for you”

Daemon would always take her in his arms and kiss her lips with all the might he could master. (Y/n) was his life line, her eyes were like a much needed breath after a deep dive, her smile resembled the feeling of the brisk air on the early hours of a summer day, her hair was as soft as a birds feather as it brushed on his skin, and her touch, oh that touch of hers…like a soothing balm on Daemons wounded heart.

“What is the matter, my love?”

“We must fly to kings landing by the morrow”

“Has something happened?”

“Lucerys’s claim is at question by Vaemond, Lord Corlys has not even passed and they are already circling around Rhaenyra like crows”

(Y/n) half mumbled half explained whilst her fingers rubbed circles on her temples, (y/n) had never voiced it still a pang of guilt ate her soul as slow as the carnivores ate their dead prey whenever she exchanged letters with Rhaenyra, she gave up on her, she left her alone to fight against those Hightowers, withering away as the bastards started to tighten the rope around the heiress’s neck.

Daemon puffed out a breath, the conversation had always been the same, (y/n) would often bring up her concerns over Rhaenyras well being, asking Daemon if mayhaps they made a mistake by leaving her, fabricating elaborate scenarios of how things could have been different.

With caution Daemon approached his lady wife and once he reached her he placed his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing circles on her aching shoulders as she slouched back and a grunt of pleasure left her, the flames from the fireplace licking her face in such a complimenting light, had he not touched her he could assume she was just an extremely accurate portrait from the hands of an exceptionally gifted artist.

“Rhaenyra is strong, she will overcome this”

“Rhaenyra is alone, our brother is barely able to make a sentence, she cannot stand alone at court”

“And what do you think our presence will do? We have been cast away for far too long, no one will pay attention to what we have to say on the matter, besides, driftmark is none of our responsibility”

After the birth of their first born daughter Enora Daemon and (y/n) decided to leave kings landing and reside in Pentos, granting protection with their dragons they were gifted with land and lived like the Targaryens only knew how to live.

“It is under the Targaryen rule, our closests bond to old Valyria”

“Dragons are our bond, which we have our own”

(Y/n) stood up from her chair to face her lord husband, fury that intertwined with confusion painted across her face as her eyebrows furrowed and her lips half open from the shock that his dismiss had caused.

Daemon resented when they fought, he did not enjoy his love being cross with him, though he loved a battle he would hang on dear life on anything and say whatever to make her curl up in his arms with content.

“You do not want to come with me” (y/n) stated

“I do not believe we will change anything”

“You believe that? Out of all I thought you would be the one to get on your dragon the fastest”

“You are with child, our other children are happy here, must we indulge in that mess?”

“That mess? Our brother has been crippled, our niece tortured by the Hightower and now she asks for our aid and you think I will just ignore it”

“You are emotional”

“I am, and proud of it, I will fly to kings landing with my children, you can choose to stay and hide behind our thick and tall walls of this castle. I will not leave our legacy, our blood, to slowly perish. It is your decision at the end of the day”

Daemon puffed out of breath before he reached for (y/n)s arms to which (y/n) stepped back to avoid, her eyes that spewed fire starring right into his soul.

(Y/n) was the diplomat out of the pair, one can imagine the surprise of her stubbornness when it came to this, which also revealed how important this was for (y/n).

“You mustn’t get upset in your condition”

“That is something you should remember, I was fine until I saw that the years turned you into a coward”

(Y/n) spat inches away from his face, with hurried and swift motions she intentionally bumped his shoulder as she made her exit of their chamber, Daemon did not catch a wink of sleep, (y/n) had never slept at another chamber separately since they had wed.

As the sun started to shyly make its descent (y/n) was assisting her three children on their dragons for their journey to kings landing.

“Hold on”

(Y/n) looked over her shoulder to find her husband with his dragon walking towards them, she had to admit that leaving without him would have costed her a great deal, she wanted him by her side, to help her, to hold her, to have her.

“What made you change your mind?”

“My astonishing devotion to you and your stubbornness, I won’t leave you alone with the wolves”

Daemon reassured her before he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, a smile making its way to (y/n)s lips as she gazed at him with love, that sparkle of joy was what kept Daemon alive, he would risk anything to see her well.

A giggle that came from their youngest children interrupted their sweet moment, Daemon and (y/n) looked up as the twins sat on their dragons, admiring the deep affection that oozed out of their parents, Daemon only winked at his children in response and turned back to his lady wife.

“Allow me dearest”

A shriek was heard when Daemon swiped the princess off her feet and lifted her up at her green dragon Zephyr. The family landed unexpectedly since they had not given any information to their visit, Otto and Alicent were fuming upon their arrival, the pair would stir the pot and cause chaos all in the princesses name, Otto was certain of it.

However no one could expect the ever defiant (y/n) holding Viserys by his right arm and the stoic prince Daemon holding the king by the left.

“King Viserys of house Targaryen, first of his name, king of the andals, and the rhoynar and the first men, Lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm, with princess (y/n) Targaryen and Prince Daemon Targaryen”

Time stood still as they entered the throne room, (y/n) had persisted on visiting her brother, encouraging him to stand and back Rhaenyras claim, begging him to find his strength and sit on the iron throne.

“I will sit the throne today”

Viserys was able to say to Otto who only bowed his head and stepped aside. When (y/n) gently assisted her brother to sit comfortably his crown managed to move and fall, Daemon was the one that caught it and placed it back on Viserys head. As the pair took a step back (y/n) was the first to curtsy in front of him.

“My king”

She whispered before she smiled, Viserys managed to get a hold of her hand and bring it up to his deformed lips, as cold and slimy the weird texture of his lips left on her hand (y/n) looked back on that memory until the end of her days, as many times as they fought (y/n) held a spot for Viserys, one of loyalty and respect.

Daemon snaked his arm around her waist as they went down the steps and took their place next to a baffled and ecstatic Rhaenyra, (y/n) subtly nodded and side eyed Rhaenyra letting her know she is her for her.

As Viserys reaffirmed Lucerys claim and Rhaenys announced the betrothal of Baela and Rhaena (y/n) was ready to turn and hug her dear niece when Vaemond stepped in front of the king, interrupting the glorious moment.

“You break law and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir, don’t you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon, No, I will not allow it”

“Allow it? I do not think anyone hear asked for your opinion Ser…. Apologies I haven’t been at court in so long, what is your name?”

(Y/n)s words sliced through Vaemond like Valyrian steel and Rhaenyra struggled to hide her chuckle, Daemon stood proudly by her side though his grip tightened around her waist when Vaemonds eyes fell on her for a brief moment before he pointed to Lucerys.

“THAT! is no true Velaryon and certainly not a nephew of mine”

Rhaenyra as the mother that she is took a step forward to stand closer to Vaemond and in front of Lucerys, what no one had seen was an important question that (y/n) had whispered at her husband.

“Which side is your sword on today?”

“Go to your chambers, you’ve said enough”

“Lucerys is my true born grandson and you are no more than the second son of drift mark”

“You may run your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine, my house survived the doom”

“To which you owe it to much greater men than you Vaemond, men that knew their place and played their part in history, something that you refuse to do”

“And you think that you can tell me what my place is? Your brother skipped over you and gave the name of heir to your niece, the gods know what you have done to make him skip over you and your… husband, my name survived and gods be damned I will not see it ended on the account of this”

“Say it, say it”

Daemon antagonised the man, (y/n) assumed her position and slipped away from Daemons grip, her hand gliding from his back all the way down to his sword, dark sister, and pulled it out the sound of metal brushing against its scabbard was enough to make (y/n) grind her teeth in annoyance, thankfully no one seemed to pay attention to what she was up to.

Except Daemon whom had already a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as he internally thanked whoever blessed him to change his mind and was now going to be a witness on this wonderful event and as he viewed it “important milestone” in his lady wife’s life.

Vaemond was caught in his own fury and sense of entitlement to see his end coming, even if he had seen (y/n) with a sword he would pay her no mind, a man of such ignorance wouldn’t feel threaten by a woman with a swollen belly or any woman for that matter.

“Her children are BASTARDS and she.is.a.whore”

“I will have your tongue for that”

Daemon watched with pride as his wife lifted the sword and with one clean slice Vaemonds head was cut right above his tongue. Enora was taken aback by her mothers acts while her two siblings Alastor and Aelia hid behind their fathers legs to avoid witnessing the gruesome sight of the corpse at such a young age.

(Y/n) stood still as the sword touched the ground to support her, glaring down at the man that had so much to say, a man that thought himself as indestructible and yet he laid on the cold floor as his blood gushed out of him and pooled on the ground.

“He can keep his tongue, to explain his treachery to the gods”

“Disarm her”

Otto commanded as his voice boomed through the throne room like a proper king that would command his kings guards to obviously attack (y/n), though the real king -Viserys- had just opened his mouth to stop this when Daemon took only a step forward.

“Don’t you dare”

Daemon warned them, in a rather surprisingly composed way for the situation Daemon approached her and took the sword from her, wiping it away at his clothes lazily before he placed it back on its original spot, his hand brushed a few strands of hair that had moved and let it glide behind her shoulder, he preferred it when her hair was out of her face, so he can fully take in her beauty.

(Y/n) was seen smiling brightly, basking in her accomplishment that was so grotesque that some reported that a numerous ladies that had been witnesses had fainted or vomited at the sight.

“You must rest, my love”

“Before that”

(Y/n) proclaimed, she left her husbands side momentarily only to stand before Rhaenyra, her hands going up to cup her nieces cheeks and place a kiss on top of the heiress head, a gesture that held such affection and compassion, (y/n) had Rhaenyra in her heart and her mind as her own daughter, images of the princess running careless on the grass and finding refuge in (y/n)s hug flashed before (y/n)s eyes.

“My dear niece”

“(Y/n)” Rhaenyra breathed out

“I will never leave you, ever”

Requests are open!

[marvelita85]

16 years of age and your grandfather the king thought you were of age to start looking for a husband you knew your mother had chosen your father at similar age, you were a dragon, you ride DarkShadow the 2nd larger dragon after Vaghar and a princess obviosly many great lords and sons would come to kingslanding to dispute your hand, you didnt want any part of it, you wish your freedom as your mother did at that age

Rhaenyra your mother granted you more freedom than most mothers would

- you are a delight for sore eyes my niece -Aegon walked beside you and you tried to hide a smile

- uncle.... Im surprise to find you awake so early in the morrow...

- I knew you were coming today how can I not welcome my favourite niece

- Im the only one you have, but thank you my prince...- you always tried to be polite with your uncles, Aegon was never close to you,but realising you have become a beautiful woman he would definitly be closer much to your disconfort but you could always count on your brothers to save you

Jace found you and soon took you away from Aegon, in just a moment your eyes turn and found the ones of your other uncle the one you've always been close the one you yearn in your absence in dragonstone, he wear an eyepatch now and you just hope he didnt hate you for any part you had that fatidic night

Aemond was training when his niece got outside the countryard he followed her with his eye and silently thanked his nephew to go and rescue her from his brothers schemes

- she has became beautiful... a delight - his brother said Aemond only looked at her he didnt care she was a bastard her eyes hold a Targaryen look as they were dark purple as much as his instead of your brothers you had your mothers eyes

You were your grandfather's favourite he anounced in the feast that night whoever you chose would rule with you after his passing and after your mothers, any children you might have would rule after you and all men in westeros wanted their heirs to rule the 7 kingdoms, you didnt want that presure but it was inevitable, for now you were dancing with your cousins and your brothers who were bethroded to them, Luke let go of your hand as you star spining in the middle of the dance floor but you lose your footing tangle with your dress and you though you would fall but a pair of hands steady you holding you close as you stoped

- uncle!!... thank you...

- are you sure I can stop holding you there is no danger for you to fall- he was taller than you he hold a half smiling never taking his eye from yours

- no... I believe I survived today thanks to you...

- hmm...- he simply let go of you and you realised you didnt want to lose his arms around you

- my prince... I presume you wouldnt stay to dance with me... even if I ask you one...

- you presume right niece - you gave a small smile and bow your head trying not to feel disapointed but you were deep inside you hope Aemond wouls say yes to spend sometime with you - this is not the field I'd like to dance but if you want tomorrow I expect to be training outside - your smile watching him go said everything and no one in your family missed the way you interact with the Targaryen prince

You turn to the sweet table and grab an orange cake closing your eyea enjoying it

- what are you doing? - your brother was beside you

- what are you talking about Jace?

- our uncle...

- what about him...

- you invited him on a dance

- yes, I just wanted to thank him for stoping me to embarassed myself in front of everyone if I fall

- he is looking for your favors sister...

- he just wanted to be polite he never did anything improper

- you are the heir of the 7 kingdoms he wish for that throne is the only thing that matters he knows he can be king through you

- so... any man I chose knows he will rule with me one day... what if I want our uncle to be that man...

- you cant be serious...

- he is a prince, he is a Targaryen he is smart and clever and he was never evil hearted towards me from all the prospects grandfather showed me tonight I would married Aemond in a heart bit if it only depended on me

- he hates us... he will always think we are bastards you included

- I wonder why he harbored those sentiments in his heart for us, if I have to remind you brother you took his eye..

- it was Lucerys after he called us bastards

- it doesnt matter what he called you or if Luke was defending you, you never said sorry... maybe now is too late but you never apologized and probably it was the only thing he was expecting, you were friends once, and now that relationship is lost forever only because no one could say one word that could chance everything

- i hope Damon and mother never allows you to marry him - you hated to fight with any of your brothers you loved them but you couldnt deny what was building inside your heart

Part 2:

[theatregaymer]

A Royal Relaxation

Merry Early Christmas @tickleraptorss​! I’m your secret squealing santa this year! I absolutely love the Chocobros and was excited to see your prompt come my way. I hope you like it and have a wonderful end of 2022!

Life in he royal capital of Insomnia was not the cakewalk some people thought it might be, especially for certain officials...most of all a certain heir to the throne of Lucis. Noctis Lucis Caelum had no idea just how much of his younger years were spent avoiding responsibilities of the crown until he had turned eighteen. Through hard work, medical science and a bit of luck he had overcome the crippling injuries sustained as a child and was now a rather physically fit twenty year old properly considerable for inheriting his father's legacy.

Of course he didn't do it alone, he learned from a young age he would need to surround himself with trusted companions to help keep him standing tall, and that's exactly what he did. Though he couldn't have anticipated that through their years together, Ignis, Gladio and Prompto would end up being more precious to him than just about anything else in the kingdom. Eventually the four of them moved into the same space together, Noctis citing that he needed Ignis to help with his scheduling, Gladio to keep him safe and Prompto to...well that one was more thanks to Ignis insisting that the blond could keep Noctis happy as his friend, but really it was more like he added that goofy element that just seemed to keep things lively in their large condo.

And such a thing was neccessary on days like today, as the prince got out of the car, met by Gladio at the front entrance so his royal guard escort could be relieved of duty...thank god. His tasks lately were so suffocating, listening to old men complain about policies that benefited the common people, how they should be demanding harsher repparations from the empire of Niflheim over recent petty squabbles. Some of them were also the crafty types already trying to butter up Noctis himself, hoping to gain their houses favor with the future king. It was so exhausting and depressing to see the state of the people who were supposed to have his father's back when leading the nation. "Tired Noct?" Gladio asked as the two rode the elevator upwards, the shield of the prince having this comforting air about him as the royal was able to let his hair down, figuratively at least. He leaned against the larger man, groaning slightly. "It's just a lot today...ugh all those bastards care about is their money and reputation. We narrowly avoided a war and all they think of is themselves." Gladio knew better than most how Noctis hated most of his own duties, but skipping out wasn't really an option for him...not if they wanted to avoid a chastising from the old man...or Ignis for that matter. "Well Iggy was whippin something up last I heard, and Prompto's off work today too so you can have the rest of today to relax huh?" He ruffled the prince's hair affectionately, earning a soft chuckle from the twenty year old. The two would then go on to enter the large condo that the four men all shared, curtosey of the crown of course. The smell of something delicious wafted through the air as they came in, Prompto apparently taking a shower before dinner. Ignis of course, greeted the two upon their entry, calling from the kitchen. "I do hope your recent responsibilities have left you hungry Noct...I decided tonight to make something a bit more labor intensive after all." The prince peeked into the kitchen, knowing better than to offer to help since his own culinary skills were lackluster at best. "Oh um...yeah, famished." He said, curiosity filling him to the brim before a certan blond seized him around the middle. "Noooct you're home!" The only issue with the normally welcome embrace of course being that the professional photographer was still wet from his shower. "Gah Prom come on, can't you fully dry off first?" He complained, though with a large smile on his regal face.

Thankfully for the blond, he quickly retorted so as to avoid a scolding from Ignis. "Hey I'm mostly dry. I'm not dripping or anything, I just couldn't wait to see you!" About now was when Noctis noted that Prompto had indeed rushed out after likely ensuring the minimal amount of drying neccessary, since he was only wearing boxers and not much else. "While blondie here puts some clothes on..." Gladio's voice chimed in, effortlessly lifting Prompto up and slinging him over his shoulder. "You should get in the shower next Noct, take some time in the hot water to cool off, ya know what I mean?" The prince nodded, "Ah yeah, I could use it." He replied, feeling a bit of his own exhaustion creeping in as he went to retrieve a set of evening wear before cleaning up. He didn't miss Gladio dragging him into one of the two bedrooms though, likely to chastise him for running around their place in his skivvies. Just before the rush of water overtook his ears however, Noctis could have sworn he heard the muffled sounds of laughter in the air...maybe it was just his imagination though. Of course, many thoughts were floating about Noctis' head as he stepped into the heated water. For some reason his three partners seemed very much....overly comforting today, in their own ways of course. It gave Noctis some fond sensations in his stomach, the feeling rising into his chest almost enough to ache as he felt like all he really wanted right now was to relax with the three of them, curled up in a cabin somewhere out in the wilds for a week or so. He couldn't deny that more than the others, he tended to crave affection a lot of the time, though sometimes Prompto could give him a run for his money. Once he finished cleaning up he dressed in a comfortable black top, some gym shorts and black socks to keep his feet warm. He spent some extra time blow drying his hair out of course, liking the extra fluff he got from it before making his way out. Prompto, now dressed in pajama bottoms and a tank top, was setting the table while Gladio helped Ignis bring the food over. "Ah right on time." Ignis stated, finally having the chance to come over personally to hug the crown prince. "Welcome home." He stated, before giving a small kiss to the boy's head. "Tonight is grilled barramundi, daggerquil rice and chiffon cake for dessert." As the two made their way to the table, Noctis had to wonder if there was some special event he missed, or celebration he forgot about, but no, apparently the three of them all together just agreed to take the night to relax together. Dinner was a fun and eventful time, the four men having getting plenty stuffed while joking around, soft flirtations being tossed into casual conversation and even a game of footsies under the table with a certain freckle faced photographer. Noctis felt at least somewhat relieved after things began winding down, with he and Prompto double teaming the cleanup duties, he was never quite as thankful as times like this for having a dishwasher. Soon enough while Ignis himself was taking some time to clean up, the other three boys were all on the sectional, watching some random cartoons on the television. Little did Noctis know however, that the tone of the evening was about to go into overdrive. "Hey Noct, you've definitely been in a mood lately yeah?" Gladio piped up, causing the prince to look over and blink. "Huh? Oh well, it's been exhausting yeah..." The prince admitted, hearing Prom chime in from his other side. "Emotionally draining, upsetting, nearly traumatizing?" He spoke with a clearly over dramaticized tone, giving the royal reason to pause his thoughts as he raised his eyebrow. The two of them were acting rather odd, well more than usual, even without Ignis around for the moment. "We figure you can use some tlc, somethin to help you relax and cheer up." His shield stated, the prince unsure as to what he meant before he saw Gladio hold out his hands, palms up.

This gesture seemed rather innocent to Noctis for the time being, as he placed his hands in the others. "I guess...I could definitely use a nice distraction after the week I've had." He gave a soft smile, an expression that unfortunately was replaced quickly by surprise and slight alarm as Gladio's hands closed tightly around his own before raising them up over his head, Noctis forced up into a kneeling position. 

"Huh? H-hey what the heck are you-" It was too late for questions, the realization hitting the dark haired young man at the same time Prompto's fingers did. Skittering up and down his now very vulnerable flanks, the blond happily sang out the words he dreaded hearing. "Tickle tickle tickle~" The prince spasmed, always having a weakness that was so easy for the others to exploit. He hated being tickled usually, finding it utterly embarrassing...of course that was usually just when he was on the receiving end. "GEHEHAHA AH ahahaha prohohomptoho nohohHOHO Haha guhuhys comeahahan!" He writhed about almost instantly, tugging at Gladio's grip to no avail. The blond didn't make things any better either, his hands dancing along the very vulnerable ribcage as he made sure Noctis couldn't get his legs off the couch to mount any sort of defense either.

For all his protesting and wriggling around, Noctis noticed that both Prompto and Gladio were tormenting him, and yet neither of them were being overly forceful, just enough to ensure he was able to laugh and not escape. While it was true tickling would never be his preferred method of unwinding, Ignis had always told them that laughter enacted an involuntary relaxed state...so it wasn't like this was the worst thing. "Ah I'm surprised you aren't going after these." An oh so familar voice was barely noticeable to Noctis, before he felt dexterous fingers make a quick dash along his upturned socks. "HYAHah NAha nohoht bohothha Ihihignis hehelp!" The caretaker to the future king walked around to Gladio's side, sporting a bit of casual yet fashionable evening wear of his own as he admired the laughing prince. "Why Noct it's been over a week since I heard you laugh so genuinely. I dare say you could use the break. So why don't I help make things a bit easier?" 

Easier!? Easier for whom!? This cruel four-eyes decided to take ahold of his wrists, freeing up Gladio's own larger hands to dish out whatever additional torment they saw fit. And it only got worse from there, with Prompto taking Ignis' words to heart and yanking his legs back until he was partially leaning on the armrest of the sofa. And as Gladio's fingers began wriggling into his taut stomach, the prince felt his best friend start clawing playfully at his soles. "GAHAHAa AHah ah ahah naha nohohoh nahaha this ihihisn't fahaairrhhehahha aha this is tohorture!" He cried out, tugging on Ignis's hold, though not with all his strength. "Now now, I believe it's perfectly within reason to want to help you relax, we do care after all...so long as you don't laugh yourself sick all over the furniture." Ignis was always so methodical with his taunts, it really got under the prince's skin. 

Though words under his skin was nothing compared to fingers under his shirt! Gladio making this point very clear as he felt those strong hands beginning to skitter up along his bare abdomen. "HYAHAHAha Hahah ah ahah youhuhuh suhuhckhahahaha hohohh AH AHAH NAHAHAH!" Tears of laughter began to form in the corners of Noctis' eyes, Gladio taking his words as a challenge as he suddenly chuckled with that sinister deep voice of his before his shirt was shoved upwards, fingers scrambling about in his bare underarms. "What was that Noct? Hah if I didn't know any better I'd say you were wanting something more challenging. And here we just wanna make you happy."

Noctis was shaking his head, trying in vain to kick his legs as he felt Prompto's lithe fingers peeling away his socks. His size ten and a half feet mostly bared for the blond as blunt fingernails began to scratch at his soft arches and claw at the plushy balls. "For real Noct, we want you to smile a bit more. You've got it tough enough already ya know? Least we can do is spoil ya with laughs yeah? Hehehe but uh if you decide to get payback, know that it was Gladdy's idea." The prince in peril shook his head quickly, feeling the tears beginning to dribble along his cheeks as his socks fell from his freshly bared toes now. 

For the briefest of moments, he felt like his worries were actually somewhat erased by the men he loved so much. Of course this was swallowed up in the storm of laughter from all four men at the hilarity of the prince's predicament. "Tickle these tooooes!" Prompto would sing out. "Here let's swap Iggy, I bet you want a turn." Gladio's voice was next. "Ah how thoughtful. If I recall, our young royal here always had a soft spot for these." Dexterous hands squeezed at his bare flanks and hips, Noctis cackling like some wicked witch when he heard the briefest intake of air before feeling the older man's lips press to his abdomen, right around his navel as he blew a wicked raspberry. "AAHAHAAAAHAHah! AHah STAHah STAHahap enahahaughheheha ah aha ah CHahaha Chocobohoo CHocoohohoho!" Long since decided on as a mutual safeword between the four of them during their roughhousing, the phrase almost immediately brought the tickling to a halt, a soothing palm rubbing affectionately at his stomach while Prompto massaged his feet, slightly reddened from their treatment. 

"Ahah...ahah hah....oh god you guhuuys." Noctis fixed his shirt as soon as his wrists were released, Gladio actually using a pocket tissue to wipe away the tears he'd accumulated on his face. "Heh gotta admit, you make quite the cute little tickle target...your highness." Noct playfully slugged his shield in the arm. "Shuhuht up." He retorted, finally getting into a normal sitting position before feeling Prompto practically wrap around him. "You guys are lucky I'm so tired and stuffed...mmph you owe me." Ignis chuckled softly, moving to sit at the far end of the sectional, propping his feet up on an ottoman before beginning to change the television to something they could all wind down with.

And as the films intro began to play, Gladio getting up to make some popcorn despite the massive meal they'd already had, Noctis was left to cuddle with Prompto, making the blond promise to reapply his socks for him before bed. The life of a prince could be tedious of course, but for Noctis at least, his companions ensured that there was never a dull moment.

[feuer-bluete]

No one is ever allowed to complain about Harry James Potter and his selfpity in book five again. You think that was selfpity?

I just started the second book of the Farseer triology and let me tell you Fitz Chivalry puts selfpity to a whole new level in the first few chapters.

[el-moscorrofio-y-el-mercachifle]

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE & CANON DIVERGENCE IDEAS

Fugitive CD. Armando, Betty and Calderón weren’t as careful as they thought. It is now a matter of time before the police can track them down due to the smuggling of the fabrics from Panamá. They need ti run away before the police starts searching for them

-Betty needs to leave the most sacred thing for her, her family, in complete shame. How would she handle this?

-Would Marcela just stay calm if her fiancé suddenly disappeared?

-Calderón canonically has some pretty… quedtionable contacts, but just how questionable, I wonder?

-How would being a fugitive and knowing he brought Betty into that affect Armando and his already-fragile mental state?

Victorian/Middle Ages Royalty AU. Prince Armando, the soon-to-be-king, has been engaged to Princess Marcela since childhood, their kingdoms joined by this promise of marriage and the friendship of their parents since Armando’s and Marcela’s births; but now, Prince Armando’s new cleaning maid, Beatriz, a poor young woman who is inexplicably very well versed in all types of arts and academic fields, is slowly starting to catch his attention…

Failing his workers was one thing, but failing a whole KINGDOM? Oof, Armando Mendoza is in for a ride!

Making the Mendoza’s kingdom the enemy of the Valencia’s could be a potential war… lives can be lost due to this. King Daniel, who ascended to the throne after the tragic death of his father, is known for his mercilessness… and he won’t stay still if the Mendoza kingdom humilliates his kingdom and, more importantly, his dear sister.

The opportunities that Princess Marcela would have to humilliate Beatriz…

Also, this dialogue right here:

The secretaries are all maids in the castle,except Mariana, who is Marcela’s lady in waiting.

American College AU. Armando is a total frat boy. Betty, the nerd who is only there due to a big scholarship. You know the rest~

Calderón CD. Armando absolutely refuses to do the plan, and in the heat of the moment proposes that Mario be the one seducing Betty. Begrudgingly, Mario accepts. He knows Betty already has an inclination towards Armando, which means he doesn’t have any territory compared to Armando (everything would have been so much easier if it had been Armando the one seducing her!) so, What does Calderón do to win Betty’s heart? She’s smart, she’ll know something’s going on if he isn’t subtle enough, but Calderón is also smart… and, more importantly, lacks morals and remorse.

Calderón is a sneaky, cunning bastard, but how astute does he need to be in order to fool Betty into thinking he’s been liking her this whole time? What eould it take?

Armando kept his and Betty’s relationship in secret due ti Marcela, but what valid excuse does Calderon have to not want to show her around?

How does Armando cope, seeing and hesring how Calderon is repulsed and mocks Betty’s innocent love, and knowing he contributed to that?

How does everyone around react if Calderon indeed goes public with Betty?

So, there’s that! A few ideas that quickly came up my head. And yes, in case you are wondering, yes, I am, indeed, begging for fics.

[inthememetime]

This seems really cool

Line: “If you could disregard their words as easily as you disregard my own, we need not be having this discussion.”

Fandom: The Hobbit

Emoji: 🤬

Pairing: I'm not sure if you're into writing x reader fics, so feel free to completely ignore this part if you aren't and write with whatever characters you see fit, but maybe a kili x reader?

Thank you for the ask!

Pairing: KílixReader, implied Bagginshield (it's literally 1 sentence though)

Summary: Gender & ethnicity neutral human reader (hereafter referred to as You or Y/N) and Kíli are very much in love. Before retaking Erebor, no one batted an eye at Kíli, a hunter and jeweler, marrying the human bastard child of a prostitute. Now that he's in line for a throne, however, Dain, his daughters, and several of his other cousins have been harassing you to get you to leave. The arrival of his mother, who you haven't met yet, instigates an argument that might end your relationship.

Rating: PG or PG-13.

"Please tell me you're joking, (YN)." Kíli's eyes are oddly hard; they're red rimmed, and you feel awful for making him cry, but they're cold now. Angry. You'd known he was a hunter, but you'd never felt quite so hunted.

"I'm not. We've talked about this before, and me leaving- it's just the best way." You've made this argument before. It's been no secret that Kíli's family wants him to marry a dwarrow or dwarrowdam of high rank, and a human born of a prostitute and no father is neither.

"The best way for what?"

You huff and toss a rolled up tunic at him. "Do we have to go over this again? Can't we just-"

His gaze still hasn't moved or softened. "Humor me." And that isn't a request from the dwarf who caught your attention by making you laugh, but an order from a prince.

You sit down and manage to tear your face from his. If you look at him now, your leaving will be pushed back just another day. And another. And eventually you'll grow old, he will not, and you fear it. You fear a life filled with wondering if this will be the last time you argue. If this will be the last time he tries to get you to stay.

The entire time the two of you have been together, about half his family has been supportive while the other half- who firmly believed that species shouldn't mix- have done nothing but harass you and make you miserable. And now his mother will finally be coming with the last caravan from the Blue Mountains. You've met enough mothers you know she'll hate you too.

"There are expectations of you, as a prince. You have to marry someone who can give you full blooded heirs, someone who can rule beside you if the worst happens. And I-"

You feel your throat constricting, and you force your next words through a throat that feels as if it's filled with cold porridge. "I just want you to be happy. And I can't give that to you. Even if I could, I've got what- 60, 70 years left if I'm lucky? When I die, you won't even be middle-aged for your people, but you'll be alone."

He gives a heavy sigh. "If you could disregard their words as easily as you disregard my own, we need not be having this discussion."

"I don't disregard any of them." You return.

"We only love once, we dwarrow. It's how we're built. So I have two options, really. Look at me."

You don't want to, but Kíli tugs on your shoulder gently, and you've never really been able to refuse him anything.

"Here are my options. My first, and the one you seem to enjoy the most for some strange reason, is to say my goodbye, watch you leave, lose the 60 or 70 years we might have, and probably start hating my family for driving you away. There won't be any children in this scenario, pure blooded or not. No marriage. Just being alone."

You open your mouth to object, but he taps your lips just once with a finger in warning. "No, you've said your piece a hundred times. I'm saying mine now, and you'll listen."

He moves his hand away when you nod. "Now here's option two- actually, there's three now that I think of it. Option two is we get married. They don't have to like it. We're both adults in our respective species, so by dwarrow law, they can like it or leave us alone. The very worst thing they can do is say I'm not fit to rule; my brother's already courting a 'dam, so I wouldn't anyway. No great loss there. We enjoy our time together, anyway."

"And option three is me leaving the mountain with you. I'm no great shakes at smithing, but if we go to a big enough city, I'm very good at jewelry. We go, hide from my family until you die, and then I decide whether to come back or not."

You feel sick, somehow, with the third one. Pulling your dwarf away from his family and his mountains feels somehow very wrong.

"I don't know, I-"

"Think about it." He says, more gently this time. "I've already told my family those options too." You look at him in shock. "Yes, yes, I did, don't look so surprised. Fí is fine with it- said he voted for option two and mum jumped down his throat about how it wasn't a joking matter."

"And- and the rest?" You ask, not daring to hope for anything.

"Uncle Thorin recommended a few cities that were nicer to dwarrow than most- I'm pretty sure he's making a list. He also said that he's the king, not my cousins, and if he needs to make it an order for Dain and his daughters to leave me be, he will." He shook his head. "Amad, apparently, has asked for a list of the kin involved, and Balin's trying to make sure she doesn't get it to avoid a 'diplomatic incident.'"

Despite your tears, his frankly terrible imitation of Balin's dry tones make you laugh a little.

"So think about it. And know that if Amad has anything to do with it, my cousins will be banished, dead, or both. After all, my uncle married a hobbit, who's to say I can't marry a human?"

[cyndecreativity]

Day 5 - Believe in Yourself

Throne – Watching the sunrise – “I’m not saying I told you so…”

Unable to sleep, Alden wanders the halls of the Imperial Palace lost in thought. He finds himself in the Grand Hall, confronted with the reality of his imminent position as Emperor. It all feels too much for him, but a surprise visit with his brother cheers him up a bit.

~2500 words

---

The quiet, comfortable solitude of night always invigorated him. No teachers, parents, siblings, or peoples to interact with as they all slumbered lifted a burden from his shoulders he never recognized until the weightless feeling after it left. With the world sleeping, he finally had freedom. Freedom to just be rather than be something.

In an effort to avoid waking his wife – wife! – he roamed the halls of the palace, lost in thought. The moon shone brightly through the various openings in the palace’s walls, the windows open for the cool night air to circulate. Idania had insisted on it to reduce stuffy and stagnant air. Servants would be up with the sun to close them all again, the stained glass painting the inner walls in the sunlight. He had no preference either way, something that frustrated her to no end. But with the mental and physical exhaustion of his new role as heir to the Scorpio Crown, he rarely had the energy left for such menial decisions.

A few overnight servants, the ones that swept the floors and straightened carpets and dusted and all the other things that Idania organized for the beautification of the palace. They all started upon seeing him, but he apologized for bothering them and continued wandering. Most attempted to ask if they could help, but he thanked them and proceeded through the grounds. In truth, he had no real destination in mind, just let his feet take him where they would, his mind lost in the weeds of anxiety.

The older members of the council had little faith in him, having hoped to overthrow his mother with news of his status as a bastard and the actions of his brother. They had no care for the circumstances or truth behind either, only desired to seize power. But they also had not put in the time or effort to turn the people to their side, resulting only in ineffectual posturing as the people chanted for the Kil’Jades. Karlina spent time as the grieving mother, spent time rallying the people, spent time garnering sympathy for her children. When Alden returned to them after years missing, thought dead, they people rejoiced. The announcement of Sylvain’s survival met the same raucous applause. The people loved the Empress and her family. The other council members had no chance, so caught up in their petty squabbles, that all they ever managed to do made things worse for the peasantry.

He would have to fight them, fix the problems they crafted to make him look bad, to squelch their powergrabs before they came to light. He remembered the many times he had stumbled into bettering life for the people in Lotuserna with Sylvain’s help. The ripple effect of his small appetite that turned into food banks all over the Lotus Capital had been a startling lesson in economics and goodwill for him. Could he replicate that on his own?

He could always consult with Sophie. She trained in governance from a young age and had the blood of the Queen Mother in her veins. She managed to repair the damages brought by Preminger and his poor advice to her brother Andre in a few months as Queen Regent. Even the rumor of her relationship with a Libra had not sullied her reputation and popularity with her subjects. The Djinn had no head for governing among them, not a single one, though Tristan knew a small village Mayor-in-Training that might be able to give him a good word with the Taurus leadership. He had made an impression on the Grand High Judge in the Libra while Idania made friends with the Clipped down below.

Footsteps echoed around him, jerking him unceremoniously from his thoughts. The Grand Hall stretched out around him, a stage-like dais stretched across the back of the room. The carpet, a rich tapestry of reds, greys, and browns for each of the tribes, fringed with white tassels for the Hibernation Guard. Along the edges sat the tables and stacks of chairs for Council meetings, large dinners, and small parties. A servant clutched his cleaning supplies to his chest, having not expected the Emperor-in-training to have shown up in the middle of the night.

Before he could jump into attempting to serve and impress his master, Alden waved a hand to calm him. “It’s all right. I just couldn’t sleep. Please proceed.”

The man’s eyes practically bulged from his head, his tail quivering behind his head. The next Emperor apologized to him! “I-I was actually just finishing up in here, Your Highness.” He balked, his stinger twitching.

Alden offered the poor man a smile. “Well, don’t let me keep you.”

The man spread his arms in the typical Scorpio show of respect and hurried away, grabbing his bucket on the way.

Once the servant disappeared down the hall, Alden wandered through the hall, his bare feet thumping quietly over the scratchy rug, slapping softly on the polished stone, his tail clicking absently behind. He traced fingers over the long tables, not a speck of dust in sight. How many men and women sat at these tables to fight over how best to frustrate and lead their people? How many would he cycle through over the course of his reign? How many would he have to prove himself to, would he have to remind of his position, would he actually respect?

He reached the steps to the dais. He hesitated and looked up to the thrones that waited there. The large, ostentatious throne in the center, the same design but slightly shorter for the spouse of the Imperial Majesty, then the other smaller three for the clan heads. His right arm ached slightly, a flash of purple in the magical veins, and he curled his hand into a fist.

Soon that throne would belong to him and the one beside it to Idania. His pulled in, his expression dark. He hated the idea that many would slight her for her origins, mock her for starting in an orphanage, and yet faun over her for being the Djinn of Water. He hated the idea that he would have to fight for her, protect her from their lies and politics, that no matter what she did, she would never be right for them. For him, it was normal, but he hated to see the love of his life mistreated in that way.

But with the power of the crown, of the throne behind him, they might learn to keep their mouths shut. He stepped gently over the stone and moved to the largest chair. It loomed over him, not quiet as large as when his father were alive, or the Emperor, or even a few years ago when his mother occupied the chair. He had grown, he surmised, over the years, over his journey. He looked up to the Scorpio crest at the top center of the chair, the three symbols of the clans encircled in the snowflake for the Hibernation Guard. A reminder of unity and over whom all the Emperor ruled and was ruled by.

A lot of power and a lot of responsibility rested in that simple piece of furniture. His fingers graced over the arm, also impeccably dust-free. The servants took their work very seriously. If he ever found it in disarray, if he ever found it to be dusty or streaked from cleaning, would he ever get enraged? Would he take that rage out on the staff?

“Daunting, isn’t it?”

Alden yelped, his tail raised to defend himself. At the back of the dais lie two doors that led to private hallways for the imperial family. Sylvain, his hair an ashen blonde, body hunched and leaned onto an elegant and functional cane, stood in the doorframe to the right. Alden heaved a breath to calm him heart. Sylvain chuckled and limped awkwardly and with great effort toward the chairs. Alden hurried around the chairs and offered to assist his brother. Despite his assumptions, Sylvain gratefully took Alden’s hand and led them to the chair. He gestured and Alden helped lower him into the spousal throne. With a gesture, Sylvain encouraged him to sit in the largest.

“It’s just a chair, you know.” His newly green eyes shimmered playfully in the torchlight.

Alden sighed and shook his head. “But it’s not, is it? I mean, functionally, yes, of course it’s just a chair. But…” He pointed to the Scorpio crest. “It represents so much more.”

Sylvain nodded and placed his hands on the top of his cane. “Do you remember what we were taught about the crest?”

A small chuckle shook the Red Prince. “I do.”

When he did not elaborate further, Sylvain smirked. “You do not.”

Alden rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe I don’t.”

A raspy chuckle drifted from the older Scorpio. “Then why worry so much? It’s just a piece of art on an overly elaborate piece of furniture.”

The younger brother huffed slightly. “There are those that worship this crest. Those that place trust in what it represents. That fight and die for it. That… will end up being my responsibility. All those people, Scorpio and the Hibernation Guard, will be relying on me to keep the peace in this room, to work toward their dreams and steer the empire true.” Red eyes met green. “I don’t know if I can do it, brother. It’s… it’s a lot. Perhaps too much. I’m sure to fuck it up, somehow.”

Sylvain nodded solemnly with recognition. He knew! He fell to one knee before his brother. “How did you do it? How did you live with the knowledge that it would all fall to you someday? That you would be responsible?”

Ashen eyebrows lifted over tired green eyes. “You think I lived with it?” He sighed slowly and shook his head. “I barely survived. But I had to put on a brave front for those around me. They expected a lot from me and I did what I had to.”

Alden’s shoulders sagged. Memories of their time in the Academy, of all the days Sylvain toiled in the library, or with some private tutor or another, flashed by in an instant. He never gave it much thought then, enjoying his time spent with Valash and Alexander, the days he spent roaming the city with Idania, the days he got caught stealing. No one expected anything of him. He took advantage of that then. Perhaps he should’ve paid more attention, focused more on studies, tried to be a better Prince.

“Doesn’t matter now, anyway.” Sylvain tapped his cane against the polished stone. “Mother has named you the next Emperor. And by the looks of things, you’ll do very well.”

Platitudes and apologies died on his tongue, sputtered out as nonsense. “You think I’ll do well?”

Sylvain gestured to the chair again. “Sit down. You’re making me nervous kneeling like that.” Alden moved without much though and sat in the main throne, focused solely on his brother. Sylvain smiled. “Typically, those that crave power are not very responsible with it. And since you don’t want the power and responsibility, you are more likely to wield it with temperance and kindness.”

The younger brother scoffed. “Please. Spare me. There are plenty that don’t want the throne that would be beyond terrible at it.”

The older man shrugged and slumped back into the chair. “Well, mother won’t stop singing your praises, that’s for sure.” Another scoff. “She seems to think you’re a hero. Won’t stop regaling me with the highly fictionalized versions of your journey after-“ He hesitated briefly. “Phiphi destroyed Lotuserna.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m sure that’s not very fun for you.”

Sylvain bobbed his head back and forth. “Well, it’s fun to hear all the different versions, at least. How evil some stories make me sound, how heroic others make you sound. It’s also interesting to hear her opinions of Idania change from day to day.”

Alden shook his head and slumped back in the chair. “I wonder if they’ll ever get along.”

Sylvain looked to his brother and grinned with half his face. “There. That’s it.” Alden lifted his brow. “Seeking a diplomatic solution to every situation is paramount.”

“Just because I wish for my wife and my mother to like each other doesn’t mean I have the makings of Emperor.”

“It’s the little things. Little things inform larger things.” Sylvain reached a hand to slap his brother’s arm. “Remember when you couldn’t finish your dinner and the Ambassador ended up opening up food banks all over Lotuserna?”

Warmth spread from the small contact. “I was actually thinking about that earlier! But that was all you and Idania. All I did was have a tiny stomach. But it did make me think. Could I rely on you to be an advisor?  And Idania did manage to help all those refugees. And I have connections in other Constellations as well-“

Sylvain smirked. “Look at you being all Imperial.”

Alden shook his head. “You would know, I suppose.”

“I’m not saying I told you so…”

Laughter burbled between the two men, raspy and affectionate, and descended into coughs. After they calmed, Alden reached over to place a hand on his brother’s. “I appreciate it, Sylv. I know I shouldn’t ask this of you, but I can count on you for advice, can’t I?”

The first light of morning peaked through over the horizon and flooded the Grand Hall. Both men started at the sudden brightness, Sylvain closing his eyes. Ophiuchus’s darkness lingered and made his brother sensitive. “Here, we should get you back to your room.”

Sylvain waved a hand. “Shying away from it won’t make me any better. I haven’t seen a proper sunrise in Spirits know how long. I’ve missed it.” Those tired green eyes lifted to Alden’s. “And of course you can rely on my counsel. You’ll need at least one person to tell you when you’re being incredibly stupid.”

-

“Kelara?” The left door behind the dais creaked. Alden lifted his eyes to his wife, her hair a mess, eyes narrowed. “What are you doing in here?”

Warmth filled him again, a different one this kind, as his arm glowed a faint purple. “Kelara! I’m here with Sylvain, actually. Apparently neither of us could sleep.”

She padded across the floor and leaned over to smile at Sylvain. Sylvain attempted a full smile in response, but only half his face seemed to work. “Good morning, Master Sylvain. How are the other healers-”

He held up a hand. “Don’t get me started. For now, I’d just like to enjoy the sunrise.”

She straightened up a bit and looked to the windows. She nodded, understanding, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Her other hand stretched for Alden. He furrowed his brow, but he watched her hand glow on Sylvain’s shoulder. He felt more sure of his love every moment.

He shifted his weight and Sylvain winced, ready for the pain of the brightness again. When the pain did not come, he blinked and relaxed. Alden moved to his wife’s side and slipped his arms over her shoulders. She turned to beg a kiss, to which he obliged. Sylvain lifted a hand to hers on his shoulder. Both brothers muttered a quiet “thank you”.

[fairymadnessyeah]

A Poisoned Heart

Shigadabi week day 6

AO3 Link

Summary: Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, lived a young, kind prince and a young, powerful mage. This is their story...

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Deadly / Magic / Distance

"This way, guys!" Midoriya guided them through the dense swamp.

If Shouto was honest, he hated this place. He preferred forests or open fields than the humid and smelly swamps. But his friends were in danger, and he would do anything for his friends.

A few months ago, their group and Bakugou's had separated. Shouto along with Uraraka, Midoriya, Iida and Tsukuyomi headed north while Bakugou, Kirishima, Sero, Kaminari and Ashido went west. The two groups had different objectives and so their paths separated. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence though, and it wasn't like they had no way to contact each other, which had lead them here.

Two days ago, Sero contacted them and told them Kirishima had gotten hurt by hunters. They were in the middle of nowhere, but they had luckily found a mage who agreed to heal him. Not ones who turn their back on their friends, the group forgot about their quest and went to their friend's aid. If somebody had told him that he, Prince Shouto of the Fire kingdom, second heir to the throne, would find himself travelling to a swamp, he would have thought they were unhinged. But here he was, doing, exactly, that. Accompanied by a young blade master, a witch apprentice, a knight in training and his personal mage on a journey to make sure his dragon friend wasn't in danger. Who would have guessed that the quest to help his brother would leave him to here?

"I see something!" Uraraka yells, pointing towards a line of smoke in the air ahead of them.

They followed it, cutting through trees and greens and stepping on slippery muddy terrain. They knew they were in the right path when the party heard the loud screams of a barbarian they knew. The arriving group soon came to a clearing where a small cottage was situated and outside of it, Bakugou and his companions were there. Once they saw him, they all ran to greet them in their loud and excitable nature. Kirishima didn't though, the bandages over his abdomen stopping him, and neither did Bakugou, the Barbarian King deciding to stay by his dragon's side.

"I can't believe you guy came all the way over here!" Kirishima says as they all gather around him.

"Kirishima! You are one of our friends, of course we would come to your aid!" Iida tells him, moving his arms in a chopping manner and making a clanking sound with his armour.

"So, who did you find to help you?" Midoriya asks, and they hear footsteps and movement in the cottage. The door opens, revealing a skinny man with platinum hair in a dirty hooded robe.

Suddenly, a blade is drawn as mismatch eyes widen in surprise. Before it can strike though, it's path is blocked by another sword. Todoroki and Bakugou faced-off against each other, blade against blade, as the rest of the group stared in surprise at the scene. Todoroki was not someone who attacked without a reason or provocation. Maybe the Barbarian would, but not the prince. The roles had been reversed, and nobody knew what to do.

"What the Fuck, Icy-Hot!? What do you think your doing!?" Bakugou demands an answer.

"Step aside Bakugou," is the only thing he gets. "You can't trust this man," he glares at the man who the blonde was protecting.

"Is nice to you see you too, Shouto..." the mage with crimson eyes says. His voice soft and rough, barely a whisper.

"Do not call me that! To you, it's Your Highness," the royal says making his companions gasp softly. Never before had they heard their friend demand someone referred to him by his title.

The two warriors are slowly separated, but none of the drops their stand. Ready to pounce at any minute, Todoroki's eye don't leave the hermit mage. Bakugou steps between them as a warning. He knows he should be siding with his friend the bastard, but he can't. Not only is it out of character, but also the swamp mage saved Kirishima's life. He owes him enough to protect him from the weird-acting prince.

"Todoroki, this isn't like you," the greenette tells him, trying to make him lower his sword. "He hasn't done anything,"

"But he has," Todoroki says. "It's because of him that my brother is only a shell of the person he used to be,"

"I see," the mage says, the small light that his eyes held gone. "I can give you an antidote for him, but you need to know the consequences it might cause,"

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Everybody had the ability to practice magic. Some more than others. But the only way for one to practice the art legally, you needed to acquire a certificate seal. And the only way to get one was by being taught by a certificated master.

Shimura Tenko, after an accident with his magic, got accepted into The Draiocht, one of the most famous institutes of magic. He aced all of his classes, and once he graduated, he was given the most prestigious of positions a mage his age could achieve. The Personal Mage of a Crown Prince. And not any prince but the heir to the throne of the Fire Kindom, Todoroki Touya.

Kings and Queen, as well as any other royal or council member who mattered, had a personal mage by their side. They acted as bodyguards, advisors and magic experts. He was thrilled to be in such a position. He had become a powerful mage, with the ability to tame the dark arts, and he even had a new name to prove it. From rags to riches, Shigaraki Tomura went from the son of a simple merchant to one of the wizards in the palace of Caith Capital in the wealthiest kingdom. And then he met the prince.

Now, he didn't have anything against royals, but he knew what to expect with most of them, boring lessons, boring high-class parties, boring meetings. He had the plan of practising his magic more and even mastering the subjects his alma matter deemed forbidden when he was a student. But the Todoroki brat he was given to, however, didn't care for any of that. The elder prince spent his days and night avoiding his lessons his father tried to force him into. He would hide in the gardens or the castle's secret tunnels, waste his time in the stables or map-room and fool around with his siblings. Tomura, for the most part, didn't care if the bratty royal wanted to be an irresponsible heir. What bothered him was that as his personal mage, he was dragged to all the problems the prince got into.

"Why are we here again?" the mage asked one day as he was, once again, taken to the map-room of the royal library by the prince.

"I just need to find something before the trip tomorrow," the redhead says as he rummages through cabinets and shelves.

"Can't you be a normal prince for once?" he moans as he watches the royal take out a rolled map. "You are supposed to go on this trip to learn about the old kings of history! Don't you want to be a good king?" he crosses his arms.

"And you think that's the way to learn how to be a king?" Touya rolls his eyes and takes one of the cylindrical cases. "They only teach about dead guys in boring books or documents. That's not what a king is supposed to be," he places the map he took in the case and opens a trap door. "A king should be a servant to his people, and I doubt the guys they tell me about, knew anything about their people,"

That interaction was the beginning of all. The day he learned there was more to the prince than a careless and bratty attitude. The next day, as planned, King Enji took his son to learn about the old kings of the kingdom. They were accompanied by a knight of the palace, his squire and the mages of each royal. On the second day of the trip, the prince tried to slip away from the camp. Tomura was woken by a rustling sound inside his tent, and when he opened his eyes, he saw the prince was packing a bag.

"Where are you going?" he interrupts the guy, tapping his foot annoyed.

"Hunting for food... ?" Tomura sighs frustrated.

"You can't just leave in the middle of the night," he whispers loudly not to wake anybody else. "They're going to think you were killed, or kidnapped, and they are going blame me for it! I'm the one keeping an eye on you-"

"Listen," he interrupts him. "If you want to stay here, fine, but I'm not going to spend another day with my old man. Besides, I'm going to see you all in that 'grand library place'. I'm just going through a more... fun route," the teen says and continues packing.

Tomura, meanwhile, wants to rip out his hair in frustration. He opts instead to scream into his pillow. Once he is done with that, he starts packing too. The teen stares at him for a few seconds before Tomura speaks again. "My job is to keep an eye on you, which means I need to stay close to you, unfortunately," his answer makes the prince smile though, and the two leave camp undetected.

They ended going through a breach in between two mountains that was full of exotic birds. Tomura, when he saw the path the prince showed, though he wanted to hunt some of the fascinating animals and keep them as trophies. But he didn't. The heir to the throne quietly watched amazed and didn't bother the beast or their nest. He took a few feathers, but only those he found on the floor. The two somehow made it to the town before the king and his party, and once there they had fun. They visited the market, played in the woods and spent their night on a local tavern. It was the most fun Tomura had had in a long time.

The king wasn't happy, of course. But the mage believed he would let it go. The prince lived for getting into trouble, and his father's rage seemed to be rewarding enough. He learnt how wrong he was when Touya revealed the truth to him. Ever since he started working for the palace, Tomura healed the fire prince of multiples wounds. None of them were fatal, but he did get hurt on a daily basis. He always believed it was due to his recklessness, but one night as he applied a healing salve on the princes' bruises, Touya started talking. The mix had a dizzying effect on people, so he doubted he would have said anything if it wasn't for its side effect.

"When I become king, things are going to change... My mom is going to be happier... and my brother and my sister and my brother... we are all finally going to be free of him... he won't hurt us anymore..."

That trip had been eye-opening for him.

He understood that the prince was nothing more than a bird in a golden cage. He longed for freedom and happiness. And if he wanted to, he could get it. If he decided to, he could escape the castle walls and run free. Yet, he didn't. For he knew that if he got away, he would be the only one to do so. His mother and his sibling would have to stay behind with his father. Touya tried to make the hell they were living in bearable. He goofed around with his sibling, he pasted a smile on his face for everyone to see, but longed for something he couldn't have. Something, he would have to sacrifice his family to achieve.

Instead he waited, he remained in the dark and took the hard hits for his family. So that when he becomes king, his family could finally live in peace.

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As the years went by, Tomura stayed by Touya's side.

After their first successful trip on their own, King Enji allowed Touya to quest. He would be sent on the kingdom's behalf and only to those the king approved. And as his mage, he accompanied the prince in all of his adventures. The two had become friends over time. Touya still drove him up the wall with his messes, and he had had to save his behind more times than he could count. Touya took him to see the world and treated him like a person. All of the people he met in his life always expected something of him. His biological father expected a perfect son, his professors and mentors expected greatness and power and the king expected loyalty and servitude. And as a poor bastard looking for approval, he tried to meet those expectations. But with Touya, all of that was gone. He didn't have to be Shigaraki Tomura, the royal mage or the best alumni. He only needed to be himself. That was more than enough for the redhead.

"Is everything okay?" he asked as they set up camp near the road. The two were coming back from a successful quest and were in no hurry to return to the palace. "You've been really quiet lately," Touya hums.

"Have you noticed that lately we have only been sent to places with royal and noblewoman of marriageable age?" he says, looking at nothing.

He had. They were always offered a room to stay in by the people in charge of the places they went. They didn't accept all of them, but whenever they found themselves in one, Touya would be doted on by the female heirs of the family. It probably didn't help that the redhead was naturally charming and loved to flirt. Tomura ignored the way his chest tugged in pain whenever he caught him.

"My birthday is coming, and father is going to throw a ball to celebrate it," he says after a while.

"But he does so every year. It doesn't mean he is looking to betroth you," Tomura tries to look at the positive side as the pain in his chest festers.

"I saw the guest list," Touya says defeated. "All bachelorettes of the region will receive an invitation," he sighs and leaves to hunt something for them to eat. When he returns, they don't talk about it, and Tomura suggests they take a longer route back to the castle.

When Touya's birthday comes, just like the eldest prince predicted, princesses in uncomfortable and flashy ballgowns infest the ballroom. The royal family greets and welcomes the guest, and then Touya is presented once everybody arrives. Beside him, as he always had been, is Tomura. The presentation is over quickly, and once they join the guest, Touya is introduced to all the females interested in him. Tomura can see how much the prince wants to run to the nearest exit. He eyes them as a dried man searches for a drop of water.

The ball is boring. Tomura would rather lock himself in his quarters before attending. But as part of the royal court, he has to. He usually spends the night talking to the other mages who show up (which aren't a lot), eating the delicious food made for the occasion or taking care of the youngest prince. The prince Todoroki Shouto was still mageless at his young age, and Tomura liked him enough to keep an eye on him during the more formal events while Touya played Proud Heir. He was with the youngest prince when King Enji called him.

"Have you seen my son, mage?" he demands, belittling him like he always did. "The dance is about to begin, and he has suitors to please,"

'No wonder he left...' Tomura thinks, repressing the urge to roll his eyes.

"I believe he is freshening up, your Majesty. Should I fetch him?" he actually hadn't seen him for a while, but he knew him enough to guess where he was.

"You seem close to my son," the older man grumbles and glares at him.

"I spend a lot of time with him. It's my job, sir," he doesn't understand where the inquiry is coming from.

"Good. Remember that. You are only a mage, and Touya is a prince. Nothing more. Now bring him here." he bows and leaves. He had learned long ago not to talk back to the king.

Just as he expected, he found Touya hiding in the castle gardens. There was a small area hidden between the green bushes and trees. The rest of the family often spent time together there, without Enji breathing down their backs. With a giant tree they could climb on, a swing set, a fountain and flowers, it was the perfect place to get away from your problems. The prince was sitting in one of the swings when he got there.

"I figured you'd be here," he says and sits in the swing next to him. "It's a lovely night, don't you think? As lovely as the women making a line to meet you..."

"Psshh, you don't mean that," the guy grumbles. "Have you ever been in love, Tomura?" he asks after a pause.

"Wha- what?"

"Have you ever fallen in love with somebody?" he askes again, something in his eyes glimmering through the sadness.

"I- I guess not," he looks aways as his cheek turn hot. "I think I would notice if I did,"

"My mother told me she once loved my father," Touya tells him. "That they met in a ball like this and a year later they were getting married. Do you think it's weird that, even if I know it didn't work out for them, I still want to marry for love?"

"Do you love someone?" Tomura doesn't know why, but that hurts.

"I think I do, but I have to dance with everybody and not them," Touya admits.

"I thought you liked dancing," he knew he did. He saw him smiling with his sister and mother whenever they practised.

"Being forced to kind of sucks the joy out of it," he grumbles, and an idea struck his head. "Would you dance with me?" he turns to him, his spirits lifted.

"Huh!?"

"I know it sounds stupid, but..." he gets up from the swing and offers him a hand. "I want to enjoy some part of tonight," Tomura stares between his pleading eyes and the extended hand and, before he can think about it, he accepts.

Touya pulls him to his feet, and he suddenly founds himself in the prince's arm. Their formal wear is tight and uncomfortable, and he feels like he is in a costume when he wears it. As if he is pretending to be someone he is not. But while he is in Touya's embrace, body against body and an arm holding on to his waist, he feel alive. He feels like he belongs there, that he fits. He feels his heart jumping in his chest, beating against his skin, trying to get out. The two sway with the silence. Their music composed of crickets, the flowing water, their silents steps on the grass. Touya stares into his eyes as he rises over him. He gets lost in those blue eyes, shining like sapphires and penetrating his soul. He feels cold shivers run up his back and he knows his cheeks are turning pink.

He is overwhelmed. His pounding heart is deafening him, his head is spinning, and his palms are sweaty under his gloves. He feels as if he is about to pass out or throw up or both. Swallowing down his nerves, he tries to centre himself. He is a powerful mage. He can't get nervous over some moonlight silent slow dance.

Suddenly, the hood over his head falls down.

"You should wear your hood down more often," Touya whispers as he caresses his face gently.

"TOUYA!" a scream cuts through the moment, like a cold blade.

"That's- That's Natsuo," Touya says as they slowly separate. "We- we better get going," Cold filtering through Tomura's bones as he puts his hood back up.

The night goes on as planned by the king. Once Touya is back, he dances with all the ladies that Enji has deemed worth his time, he chats with the monarchs from far away places and Tomura watches as he tries to calm his heart. The royals gush over the prince, complimenting his manners and praising Enji for raising such a great heir. The princesses gossip and fawn over his charm. And soon enough the guests leave and the ballroom is cleaned by the servants.

But as he lays in his bed awake at night, Tomura is shaken. He keeps going back to that moment. With Touya under the moonlight, dancing and being safe in his arms. He had never felt so held, so cared for, so... loved.

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Everything went to hell a few months later.

Touya and Tomura went on another quest to a neighbouring city. It was supposed to be an easy one, just deal with some pest who was eating some of the crops. They expected to be back by nighttime with how simple it was, which ended happening, but not for the reasons they anticipated.

The pests, which were described as small lizards by the townspeople, were actually wyvern hatchlings. And when the prince and his mage started attacking the baby wyverns, the mother retaliated. Even if at the end they defeated her, they had not been ready for a fight like this. Touya had ended badly injured and Tomura, who was fighting against falling unconscious, brought him over to the palace in a rush. Natsuo and Shouto had been waiting for them luckily. The moment Tomura saw them, that he realized his the prince would be okay, he fell down.

When he woke up, Uwabami and Kido, Fuyumi and Natsuo's mages, were at his side healing him. It took him a few minutes to get over the drowsy feeling the restorative salves gave. But once his mind was capable of coherent thoughts, the first thing his head conjured was Touya. It wasn't unusual that the heir haunted his brain, but the last time he saw him, the man was at the brink of death.

He tried to get out of bed quickly. But his fellow mages stopped him, Trying to prevent him further hurting himself and explaining what happened since he arrived. He wasn't paying much attention to them, as he was too busy trying to get out of there, but he got enough pieces. Touya was out of danger but still unconscious, and he was being treated by the king's mage, Ending. It helped calm him a little knowing that he would make it, but he still tried to go with him. His fellow mages had to tie him to the bed to stop him from moving so that he could heal properly. Though, it was kind of pointless to do that since he could do undo the binding with his magic.

He knew they were right. He knew he had to rest so that the magic could heal him. But Touya needed him. He needed him, and he wasn't there. He had to be there. He should be the one in pain, no Touya. They fought like that for a few minutes until the king's mage arrived. Ending told him he could see him, if he stayed one more day resting. If not, he would be quarantined in his room until the king decided he could go back to Touya. Tomura didn't let anybody boss him around or give him ultimatums. But with the threat of Touya in the line, he obeyed.

The next morning, before even the servants entered his room, Tomura was by Touya's side. He didn't leave until his the prince woke up. He missed all meals and only talked with the ones who also came to visit the heir. Queen Rei and Princess Fuyumi were the ones who stopped by the most, along with their mages. The two brought him food and assured him this hadn't been his fault. Prince Natsuo came a few times, when he found the time between his lessons. Prince Shouto stopped by once. King Enji had begun his training, and the kid could hardly move without his father barking out orders. The king neglected the whole matter and not once dropped by.

After a week of sitting by his bed, watching and changing bandages, the redhead woke up. He first heard some painful moaning, and then those two blue eyes that tormented his dreams opened up. And the first thing the heir to the throne told his mage when he woke up after almost dying was a small and weak: "Hey..."

"You, IDIOT!" Tomura did not take that response too kindly. He had been reeling in his emotions for the last couple of days. "Why don't you ever listen to me!? I told you to run! I told you to escape! That it was too much for us! And yet you ignore me and head straight into danger! You could have gotten yourself killed! Do you understand that!?" the mage snaps at the man.

"Calm down. Everything worked out-"

"Doesn't it register in your thick skull that you could've died!? That you almost did!? Don't you understand you can't die, you dumbass!?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm the heir and all that-"

"I could've lost you, Touya!" Tomura yells and the dam breaks. Tears fall freely out of his eyes, wetting his cheeks, as he hiccups and sobs uglily. "I a- a- almost lost- st- lost you! You ca- can- can't die! W- wha- what wi- will I d- do without you!"

Touya doesn't answer. He only pulls him closer and leans him his shoulder to cry. Tomura holds on to him tightly, as if he would disappear if he let go. Touya strokes his back lovingly with one hand and with the other grasps his silver hair as he wails out his worry. They stay there for what feels like hours, but it was only a few minutes. It wasn't enough for him, though. He could spend a lifetime in Touya's arms, and it still wouldn't be enough. When his sobs start to decrease, Touya takes his face with his hands and places their foreheads together.

"I'm not going anywhere, alright?" Touya reassures him.

He doesn't know who leans in first or who made the first move. But as they hold each other, their lips meet in a gentle kiss. It's everything Tomura could have hoped for and even better than he imagined. It's perfect. It's the best moment of his life. But the beautiful moment is shattered when Touya separates from him and grasps his chest in pain.

A second later, the prince is twisting in pain as black veins grow out of his heart and start to cover his body. Tomura is panicking, trying to heal him with his magic and not understanding what's wrong.

"I- I don't understand, why can't I heal you?" Tomura cries in hysteric as he sees his loved one suffer.

"Because you are the one causing the pain," a voice answers him as the door slams shut.

"What do you mean? What did you do to him?" He asks as King Enji glares at him from the doorway and slowly makes his way to the other side of the bed.

"I told you to remember your place, mage. You are nothing compared to us, just filthy scum we use for protection. Your love is poison, and it will slowly kill him as long as you stay close to him," the king tells him.

"No... no..." he starts backing away in shock and notices the black veins stop growing. "Why- why are you doing this?" he asks the older man.

"My lineage will be remembered as the greatest and most powerful there was. My kingdom will remain a symbol of strength for generations. And I will not let you or anybody get in between my plans," the royal glares. "Now leave, mage. Leave and never return, unless you rather watch your beloved prince die,"

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After his story, Shouto apologized, dropping his sword to the ground, and explained that his father told him the mage had cursed his brother and then ran. "Is the poison what changed him?" Shouto asks him. His brother, a man who once enjoyed his life and smiled, became an emotionless ghost when the mage left. His father had always said he saved Touya from the mage when he was attacking him, but the family didn't believe him. The only thing they were sure about was that whatever had happened, changed his elder brother.

He got married to Princess Moe Kamiji of the Volcano Islands, and a few months later he ascended to the throne. His crowning should have been a good thing for them, but it quickly turned sour. In his dead-like state, Touya was more susceptible to suggestions, and their father was controlling him like a puppet. He made Touya fund his campaign to gain more territory and accept a rotating co-ruling system. On winter, his father would dictate as king while Touya continued the attacks on the rest of the land. On summer, they changed again. He didn't have many memories of his brother from before he traded mages, he was really young when it happened. But in the little ones he had, he remembered his brother was happy. They would pull pranks on the squires, steal pastries from the kitchen and play in the secluded part of the garden. He remembers how his brother would tell him about his adventures with Shigaraki or the time he taught him about the secret passages of the castles.

"No, that's not what changed him," Shigaraki says. "Your brother wouldn't have let the poison stop him. He would have come looking for me and would have gotten hurt in the process. I- I couldn't let him get hurt... because of me..." the mage explains, his voice breaking down. Shouto, now that he had a clear head could see how crushed the mage looked. He had heavy bags under his eyes that had no hope or sparkle left, and his actions seemed to lack motive. He was wholly and utterly defeated and was just as broken inside as his brother. "Before I left, I made a potion for him to forgot all about me..."

"And that included his feelings," Shouto concludes. "But there has to be a way to help him. He is nothing more than a puppet for my father to use now," he pleads with the mage. The skinny hooded man sighs and goes back to his hut. He then comes out with a flask with purple content.

"This will restore his memory," he gives him the concoction. "but you have to promise me you'll stop him from coming near me. He will die if he does," the broken mage warns him.

"I promise,"

It took him a week to reach the castle. His friends had been thankfully alright with taking the small detour on their journey. Shouto had been very lucky to have founds friends like them. Friends that would lend a helping hand for when it mattered the most. His mother was the one who welcomed them since it was spring. On winter and autumn, she stays in her birth kingdom, where now Natsuo resides. Shouto can't blame her for leaving, since he did the same, the moment his father wasn't looking. The only one who stayed the entire year on the castle was Fuyumi, her husband and Queen Moe.

As his mother takes his friends to their quarters where they can stay, Shouto begins his plans. He takes two goblets from the kitchen and fills one with wine and the other with the concoction the mage gave him. His father is away right now, fighting against some small kingdom and spending all the gold they own. However, he is a problem for later.

The obstacle he has to get rid off first is Touya's mage, Hawks. As prince and heir, Touya couldn't be left mageless. Shigaraki's replacement was a graduate from the Hverv Magical School, born from the fire kingdom. (He did come with an apprentice though, Tsukuyomi, who later became Shouto's mage.) He was a good mage, but his loyalty laid with Enji. He wasn't a bad man, far from it actually. But if it didn't work, then he would tell their father, and they needed to keep him in the dark for a bit to take the old king away from the power he still possessed.

"I'll distract Hawks while you do it," Tsukuyomi tells him.

"Thank you, Tsukuyomi," he watches the bird-man walk away with his raven on his shoulder.

Shouto puts the two cups on a tray and heads to his brother's study. When he arrives, the man is signing documents. He doesn't even acknowledge he is there until Shouto slams the door close. "Hello brother, how was your journey?" the young king asks in a monotonous voice.

"Good, we came across something interesting in the swamps of sikker død," he tells him, placing the tray with the two cups on the desk. "A mage, a powerful one, he gifted my companions and I some wine," he offers the cup with the concoction to the full redhead. "Care for some?" Touya grabs the cup without taking his eyes off the document he is going through and gulps it down in one go. He then leaves it on the wood again and return to what he was doing. "Are you feeling okay?" Shouto asks. Shouldn't his brother start to feel something? Was the potion not working.

"No, I ... I guess I took it too fast..." his brother slurs as he starts clutching his head. "What... did you... give me?" he tries to stand up but stumbles, holding to the desk to keep steady. Shouto rushes to his side. His brother let out one scream of pain before he gasps and tears form in his eyes. He suddenly looks at him, his eyes clearer than ever. "You said- you said he was in the sikker død swamp?" he asks, his tone not emotionless anymore, but desperate and on the verge of breaking.

"I can't let you go there. I promised I'll keep you away from him, that'll keep you from dying," Shouto tells him.

"Then I'm sorry about this, Shou," and before the young prince can react, his brother grasps his arms tightly and pushes him with all his force against the table. The young king runs, slamming the wood doors behind him. The noisy struggle catches the attention of the mages close by and when he catches sight of bright red wings. "Hawks! I need you to take me to the sikker død swamps! Now!" he orders the mage, and dragging him down the hallways and disappearing through a room.

Shouto, along with his mage, is hot on his heels behind him. When the two reach the bedroom the two entered, the redhead and his mage are already in the air. They can see them flying on the back of Hawks falcon, Keigo. Tsukuyomi calls forward Dark Shadow and the small raven grows in size. They get on the now giant bird and keep on their pursue, leaving the castle behind. They don't catch up with the two older men until nightfall, and by then, Touya reached the small cottage.

The redhead doesn't even wait for the bird to land. He jumps to the muddy ground and sprints towards the door, calling for his love. Shouto follows him, but he is only by the doorway when he hears the heart-wreaking scream of brother.

"TOMURA!" he sees his brother is kneeling by the bed, next to the unmoving body of the mage. "Please, open your eyes, Tomura! Don't do this to me! Please!" his brother begs as he holds the body of the mage, trying to wake him. "I love you! I don't know what to do without you! Please! Don't leave me!" he kisses the mage's forehead before hiding his face on his neck and loudly sobbing and crying.

Shouto suddenly notices a small bottle with a label and a letter next to it on the table. The bottle is empty, and it says  'white laurels extract' . The message is addressed to Touya. Shouto takes it and moves closer to his brother. His brother is still crying on the mage's body, weeping his heart out over his lost love. He slowly touches his shoulder to catch his attention and offers him the letter. Tears stream down his elder brother's face as he turns to look at him. With a shaking hand, he grabs the piece of paper and starts reading. When he is done, the flow of his eyes doubles and his sobs harden. He places a tear-filled kiss on Tomura's hand and continues crying, grieving the death of his dear mage.

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To my prince,

I knew your brother wouldn't be able to stop you. Nobody could ever hold you back from getting what you wanted, not even me. It drove me insane sometimes. Your persistence knew no limit, and many times it got us into so much trouble. Yet it was one of the many things that made me fall for you.

I love you, Touya. You are my world, my everything. It pains me not being able to hold you or be by your side. But it will kill you. And I can't let that happen.

The people need you. You are their king. You need to guide them to a brighter future and be light for them to follow. I know you can do it. You will be one of the greatest Kings your kingdom will ever have, even if I'm not beside you.

Goodbye, Touya. I love you.

With all my heart,

Tomura

[visionsofelizabeth]

✖ ▒ OH, WHAT A COINCIDENCE! i was just thinking of [ ELIZABETH OF YORK ]. most swear their resemblance to [ KEIRA KNIGHTLEY ] is unmistakable, but she has been around since the [ LATE MIDDLE AGES ]. it is rumoured that the [ CIS FEMALE ] was born in [ LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM ] in the year [ 1466 ], even though they don’t look a day over [ THIRTY ]. what a shame, though: they were once famed for being [ AMBITIOUS ] and [ STEADFAST ] ; yet now, they seem more and more [ STUBBORN ] and [ INTERFERING ]. but while [ ELIZABETH ] spends their days working as [ A POLITICAL AIDE ], they are already notorious around town for [ CRAFTING PRECISELY THE RIGHT WORDS AND FITTING THEM INTO SOMEONE ELSE’S MOUTH; METICULOUS & BEAUTIFUL PENMANSHIP; “ANCESTRAL” HALLS SHORTER-LIVED THAN YOU; THE CENTURIES’ OLD GLEAM OF A CROWN; A WAY TO WIN ON EITHER SIDE OF THE BATTLE ]. when you live forever, you might as well make the most of it. ( shannon. 20. bst/gmt+1. she/her. )

MUN STUFF:

hello hi there, friends! i’m shannon, i really hate ( most of ) philippa gregory, and this is the historical love of my life, elizabeth of york. i hope i make you all love her as much as i absolutely adore her. if you’re invested in the experience, i recommend listening to ‘the tower’ by ludovico einaudi while reading about her because it really helped me get my feelings about her down onto paper.

BASICS:

FULL NAME: her majesty queen elizabeth of england.

MONIKER / NICKNAME: lizzie; the white rose of york ( nicknames. )

TITLES: queen consort of england ( 1486-1503 ), princess ( 1466-1483 officially; regarded a princess by some after this date until her coronation as queen consort in 1486. )

GENDER && PRONOUNS: cis female && she/her.

DOB && AGE: eleventh of february, fourteen sixty-six ( age five hundred and fifty-four; immortally thirty. )

PLACE OF BIRTH: westminster palace, london, england.

ZODIAC SIGN: aquarius.

ETHNICITY: white.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: biromantic

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE:

FACE CLAIM: keira knightley.

HEIGHT: 5 ft 7 in (170cm)

PHYSICAL BUILD: slim, rectangular.

EYE COLOUR AND SHAPE: brown; deep-set.

HAIR COLOUR AND STYLE: brown; varies.

USUAL EXPRESSION: neutral.

ACCENT AND SPEECH STYLE: received pronunciation; measured speed.

DISTINGUISHING MARKS / CHARACTERISTICS: pierced ears & an outline of the rennes cathedral tattooed on her wrist that she got done ten years ago.

CLOTHING STYLE: varies heavily; in her job, she likes suits now.

JEWELLERY AND ACCESSORIES: she still wears her wedding ring from the 1480s, and possesses earrings in the likeness of the tudor rose, though she can so rarely wear the latter.

FAMILY:

FATHER: edward iv of england

MOTHER: elizabeth woodville

SIBLINGS, IF ANY: nine full, two half.

EXTENDED RELATIONS: cecily neville (grandmother) && richard iii of england (uncle.)

SIGNIFICANT OTHER(S): henry vii of england (husband, 1486—, legally ended upon her “death” in 1503). there has and will be no one else.

CHILDREN: seven or eight, including henry viii of england.

HOUSEHOLD PET(S): none; they die too soon. she used to keep greyhounds in her heyday.

FAVOURITES:

COLOUR: red && white; the colours of lancaster and york.

WEATHER: when it is overcast but comfortably so, and rain is on the horizon so the air is refreshing when it caresses your face. quintessentially english.

FOOD ITEM: the christmas roast. it reminds her of raucous and happy times with her family.

BEVERAGE: burgundian wine.

TIME OF DAY: just before dawn, when everything is peaceful & the world could just seem... perfectly endless, and yet, so small.

TELEVISION GENRE: drama. political & nordic noir. think borgen & the killing.

FAVOURITE ERA LIVED: 1486-1503; the years of her marriage.

PERSONALITY:

HOBBIES: gambling & music & reading & dancing & writing & watching theatre.

PET PEEVES: people who chew loudly. tardiness.

ALLERGIES: none known.

MBTI TYPE: estj-a.

ENNEAGRAM TYPE: type one, with a two wing: “the advocate.”

SLEEPING HABITS: restless. not as regular as they should be.

OLDEST BELONGING: her wedding ring from the 1480s.

HOME: chester square, belgravia.

DAUGHTER, SISTER, NIECE AND WIFE

No one else will ever be all four to kings ( Edward IV, Edward V, Richard III, Henry VII ) but that distinction — much like your life — is marred by instability, grief and strife. 

Your father became sick: whisperings of poison persist, and you must admit you are not sure of the truth. Your brother disappeared to the Tower: whisperings of murder exist, and you must admit you are not sure of the truth. But you are sure that your uncle met his end upon Bosworth field, and on the matter of your husband you are sure that you love him. 

At first you were not sure, at first it was not easy, but such is love.

Sweet Elizabeth, daughter of scandal: the fairest of her father’s children by his second marriage to Elizabeth Woodville. They call her ‘common,’ though she is beautiful; they are not audacious enough to call you half-common, because it is only descendancy from the God-chosen King that matters to them. 

There would be more daughters before Elizabeth Woodville gave unto her husband sons, and by then they are talking.

THINGS I PROBABLY DON’T NEED TO WRITE CREATIVELY BUT YOU DO NEED TO KNOW, A SAGA:

Elizabeth of York was the first-born daughter of Edward IV and his wife Elizabeth Woodville; she was widely believed to be the fairest of his children. She had two older half-siblings from her mother’s first marriage, and would have nine full-blooded siblings: Mary, Cecily, Edward (V), Margaret, Richard, Anne, George, Catherine, and Bridget. Bold denotes the two ‘Princes in the Tower’ and italics denotes siblings who died in infancy.

In childhood, she was betrothed to the future King Charles VIII of France, but the French failed to keep to their end of the agreement & it was called off. Previously, she had been betrothed to a noble’s son, but this too was repudiated after the father rebelled against Edward.

The former King Henry VI was briefly returned to the throne when Elizabeth was but four years old. Elizabeth, her siblings, and their pregnant mother lived under religious protection until Edward was restored in 1471.

In 1483, Edward IV died, and the unexpected nature of this death & the age of her brother — also named Edward — combined by the ambition for power held by her uncle the Lord Protector ( Richard, Duke of Gloucester ) threw the succession into doubt. Once again, they were forced into sancturary.

Ultimately, both Edward V and the younger Richard disappeared shortly after her uncle took the throne as Richard III, known as the Princes in the Tower, with much credence lent to the theory that they were murdered; the Titulus Regius, in declaring the late King’s controversial — as Elizabeth Woodville was a ‘common’ widower and the marriage secret — marriage invalid, bastardised their children and robbed Elizabeth of York and her siblings of status & rights to succession.

When whispers began of an effort against Richard for the throne, the strongest claim was undoubtedly Elizabeth of York’s own. But there had been no queen that ruled in her own right, and would not for some years, and so Elizabeth Woodville arranged for her to marry the Lancastrian claimant Henry Tudor, who traced his line through a legitimised bastard line. 

It was illegal for a Beaufort to take the throne, but it was agreed that they would support his efforts, perhaps due to Elizabeth’s vitriol toward Richard for the disappearance of her son. Henry vowed to marry Elizabeth in 1483.

Henry Tudor won the battle of Bosworth Field and was crowned Henry VII: he married Elizabeth in January 1486, their first child, Arthur, being born that autumn. 

The marriage initially was politics-born, but they came to love one another deeply, and there is no evidence of the king having kept a mistress. 

FROM DEATH TO “DEATH”

18 March, 1496

The eighteenth of March, fourteen ninety-six, is immortalised in your mind as the day that you died. You were thirty that day — giving birth to your fifth child, Mary — and you are thirty now, utterly untouched by the centuries. 

The death must have lasted mere moments; no one beyond your attentive husband noticed, and it was some time beyond then that the both of you began to believe it. 

It was the tallest of the tales your mother told you in her confinement at Bermondsey before her death four years ago. But when they told you she was dead ( perhaps of plague, demanding a rushed & private ceremony ) it would take a fool not to wonder whether the machinations of Elizabeth Woodville, the queen dowager, would continue from beyond the ‘grave.’

( The Reaper himself surely could not stop so ambitious a woman: and were it not for the king’s mother, perhaps you could have been more like her. You wonder whether you would want to be. )

Time passed, and yet none upon your face. Henry holds you close in anxious murmurings of what they will do to you if you are discovered; whisperings between kisses of witch-burnings. 

You know, though you wish that he was not, that he is right to be afraid.

4 April, 1502

For all the world and time, no worse news could be imagined; the existence of those without faith is one without pity or mercy & you have always tried to keep your love of God intact, but it is oh-so-difficult when the world itself is so malignant as to take your little prince away. 

Why is it, then, that you must live and yet bury your son? Why must his wife live on and yet he must die? You are not a spiteful woman. But even you, in this all-consuming grief, must be allowed your bitterness.

You remind your husband of the grace of God: it does not help you believe it. 

You remind your that you have a son and two daughters, and that Arthur is with God, and it does not help you believe it. 

You remind your husband that you are both young and have time enough yet.

It does not help you believe it.

As soon as you are gone from him, having remained strong for Henry’s sake alone, you buckle, and you wail, and you scream in defiance; it is hopeless, of course, for you to have insisted on sparing him your grief. When you need him, he will always come, until he can no longer.

10th February, 1503

Your newborn daughter Katherine stopped breathing, and something trapped the scream in your throat like a reassurance: some hand over your mouth whispering wait, until the baby girl wailed and began to move again. 

She is too young to have the burden of forever on those tiny shoulders, you think, but did any of you ever get a choice in whether or not you wanted to be Time’s Atlas? You say nothing of the occurrence to anyone bar your dearest beloved, who you trust with an implicitness thought impossible the day you married him. 

How could one of the white rose trust one of the red? 

Your blood still mars the bedsheets, too much of it, dark & damning; they thought the sanguine waterfall would never stem, skin growing paler and paler, until you were a paper ghost. Of course, you knew that you would not die. The doctors didn’t: they call you a miracle. The bells are rung for joy, but when they are gone, there is rue upon your husband’s face. Not long ago, they began to comment upon your unchanging visage, like an ever-fresh flower, and you both knew.

“It won’t be long before—” You press your finger gently to his lips, and he moves it away. “It’s time.”

“I know.”

11th February, 1503

The tower is just barely lit by the sun; you have been here many times before — a highlight of the fact the world still thinks the reality of childbirth, the suffering that comes with a miracle, to be a matter of shame — and he has always hated the separation from you, but this time, in the eyes of the nation ( he will deceive even his mother ) you will not leave it alive. 

Cast your gaze back over your shoulder, and ask the most natural question of the immortal race: how did you get here? 

To this liminal space, this balancing-act, between the past ( for this home of yours will be your past, your life with him will be your past, but your love for him will be your present, your tomorrow, and your always ) and forever? Can you process the endlessness of it — of forever — my love, where so many empires, overestimating their longevity, have failed; can you understand, darling, that you will watch the crumbling demise of so many more without him? 

( When you see his vision misted over with tears, is your husband still the most beautiful, lovable thing you have ever beheld? He is. He is, and no matter how the centuries pass — no matter how many kings, queens and vagabonds you lay eyes upon — he always will be; they will brand him a penny-pincher and a miser as loss haunts him, but you will remember him like this, in the most pain he has and will ever be in, but selfless anyway, because here’s the kicker they all forget: he loves you. )

“My Lizzie,” he murmurs to you, kisses the backs of your fingers, and it is a vow. Even in the depths of his pre-emptive sorrow, he looks up. His mother always says he was God-chosen to be king, but it has always been you who puts him on his knees. “Happy Birthday.”

You promise yourself then — ruminating on the fact you have never had an unhappier birthday than this — that you will never forget it.

LIFE AFTER “DEATH” ( POST-1503 )

As is hinted, Henry knew of Elizabeth’s immortality & assisted her in faking her “death.”

Elizabeth has had a long time to live. 

The sole large expense never recorded in the royal books by Henry was to send her away and give her a life of means: the most painful act her husband ever undertook, but which he did because he loved her so dearly. Henry never remarried: though he spoke of it ( had to, because his wife was ostensibly dead ) he staved it off with the instructions he gave to those searching for a second wife. 

Hint: they perfectly described Elizabeth.

For some time, the parted couple sent letters, before they deemed even that a risk to their wellbeing.

Elizabeth was once a pious woman. She is not, anymore: an eternity of time and of watching all die around her will rob any woman of her faith. She was renowned for gentleness and generosity, and that is not entirely lost upon her, but the same grief that forged the Winter King from Henry has touched her, too. 

She is more cynical, more bitter, but she is still trying. It was necessary for her to change: even at first, knowing she had forever to live, she had to force herself to accept the life Henry gave her & not bequeath her money to others who needed it more, as suddenly she needed it to maintain her own life throughout the centuries.

Throughout her life, though, this attitude has meant she has built up enough money to both give comfortably and be comfortable. For example, now, she is both heavily charitable but lives in Belgravia.

Many lives have passed: in just one, for example, she has been a teacher, just as she was to her son Henry. She has settled in this life on a political aide, so she can more obviously move the world. 

The years have made her more ambitious.

She just hopes she will find hope — and her husband, because she knows that if he were dead he would feel it in her heart — before she indelibly becomes the Winter Queen.

TRIVIA ( some things I love & a note on some I have elected to ignore )

Obligatory note that I would sell my soul for someone to play James McAvoy as Henry VII.

Among other things, the Queen from “Sing A Song Of Sixpence” is reportedly Elizabeth of York, and Henry is the King counting his money. 

However, Henry’s penny-pinching nature only blossomed after Elizabeth’s death ( or in this case ‘death’ ) and prior to that death he was very liberal in spending money upon his wife and family. 

Elizabeth may also have inspired the Queen of Hearts on modern-day playing cards.

She was particularly tall for Tudor women — perhaps inherited from her father — as most were much shorter than five-foot six or seven. 

History believes Elizabeth had little political influence, but that perhaps is not so true as they believe. 

It is true that Margaret Beaufort exercised a grand deal of influence and was loudly opinionated, but Elizabeth was able to influence matters through gentle whispers in her husband’s ear, and through love. She did not live for the applause: never had done. Elizabeth was known to be heavily charitable. So why would she make fanfare of her achievements in her husband’s court?

I know Henry VIII isn’t allowed, but Elizabeth would bitch slap him. She would. It has to be said.

[rosa-berberifolia]

Trepidation|Game of Thrones x Reader|Oberyn Martell x Reader

A/N: Some Oberyn smuttery occurs there, but its kind of in between so i didnt put a page cut in there, just so yall are forewarned.

Be Warned: Its in the middle...like a smut sandwich...a smutwich

Word Count: 5000ish

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

You always knew that you’d be married off to some nobleman. You were the only daughter of Steffon Baratheon. And after your brother, Robert, became the King of the Seven Kingdoms, you know it was only a matter of time before he used your hand in marriage as a major bargaining chip with one of the kingdoms. One of these kingdoms Robert had frequent problems with. So he saw fit to marry you off to the strongest house of Dorne, the Martells. Since the king there was already married, you were going to married to the prince of Dorne, Oberyn.

You were less than pleased about this. Despite your brother’s tendency to throw fidelity out the window, you and your younger brother had held on very strongly to the idea of being faithful to one person, and having that person be faithful to you. Renly was very lucky to have found someone with whom he had a strong - albeit secret – relationship. Few people, including yourself, knew about his relationship with Sir Loras, but anyone who to look for it could see that the two were in love and were deeply committed to each other. You longed for a marriage like this. And then knowing that you would soon be married to Oberyn Martell shattered those dreams into a million pieces. The first night that you learned of this betrothal you cried in Renly’s bedroom, your favorite brother holding you and trying to calm you to sleep.

The day came that the Dornish prince and his entourage came to King’s Landing for the wedding, and you had to meet your future husband for the first time. Oberyn Martell had a reputation for being a scoundrel.  Sleeping with whoever he wanted whenever he wanted. It was known that he had had three daughters already with a Sand woman. But because she was a Sand (a bastard) he was unable to marry her. They had, for a intensive purposes, a marriage of their own. You could only imagine how happy they were about this whole set up. At least neither party going into this marriage was happy about it. There was at least one thing in common.

You came into the Throne Room in the morning of their arrival at your king brother’s request. There you saw a group of tan skinned and dark haired people waiting. Thank the old gods and the new that you were completely put together already. You sighed in relief knowing you looked your best and walked up to your brother and a handsome man that he was standing next to.

“Ah, here she is!” Robert bellowed, extending a welcoming arm to you. “This is Lady Y/N, your betrothed.” You looked to the man that was standing there. He was handsome despite having deep lines in his face from living in the desert. Ugh, damn. I’ll have to live in the desert as well. You thought to yourself. Trying to hide your disgust of your future living situation, you bowed to your future husband.

He took your hand in his and brought it up to his mouth, “Lady Y/N, you are more beautiful than the stories. I am Oberyn, please to meet you.” He said oozing charm. You gave him an awkward smile, finding his theatrics a bit much. You knew that he must be as pleased about this marriage as you were. So this fake happiness at this predicament had you haughty with disdain. The tension between the two of you was palpable. Robert could sense it and he laughed boisterously to ease the thick air.

“Sister,” he said, trying to defuse the tension, “Why don’t you give Prince Oberyn a tour of the gardens. Get to know each other a bit before the ceremony tomorrow.”

You bowed to your brother, giving a look like, ‘I’m only listening to you because you’re the king and no other reason.’ Oberyn held out an elbow for you to take, “That would be delightful!” he said. You took his arm and started out of the Throne Room with him.

The walk to the gardens was slow and silent. Finally you reached the gardens. A place that was usually a sanctuary for you. Now it was tainted. But you had to make sure to savor your last few hours here, as you would soon be off to Dorne, never to enjoy the beauty of this garden ever again.

“Why don’t you like me? Have I done something to offend you in the fifteen minutes that we have known each other?” Oberyn pulls you from your thoughts with mockery in his voice.

You look at him with contempt in your eyes. “It’s only that you put on this façade of being happy about this arrangement when we both know that is not the case.”

He gives you a surprised look, chuckles to himself and then nods and smiles, “I see I have a reputation even in King’s Landing.” You roll your eyes and turn to rest your elbows on the railing overlooking some trees on a lower terrace. He mimics you. “Can you please explain your trepidation, my lady?”

“Trepidation?! You think this is merely trepidation? This is complete disdain because, believe it or not, some people hold loyalty and commitment to one’s spouse very high on their list of priorities, me being one of them, and now I must marry someone who couldn’t be more opposite from that!” You seethed. “My brother has zero concern that he is setting me up for a lifetime of heartbreak, and I have no way of getting out of it.”

Oberyn leaned with his hips on the railing, a look of disgrace on his face as he looked down at the ground. You continued, “And then you come in here, pretending to be eager for this union, when everyone knows that you have a very deep relationship with that Sand woman, even having not one, but eight daughters with her. You obviously love her, and now you are being forced to marry me! How could you possibly be happy about marrying me?”

You could tell that Oberyn was thinking over his next words very carefully. It was some time before he spoke. “Among my people it’s not uncommon to be in love with more than one person. I am entering this union knowing that one day I can grow to love you, while still being in love with Ellaria.”

“See now, my people, would say that you are a swine! One should only love one person at a time.”

“You don’t think that I could fall out of love with Ellaria and into love with you?”

“I think it is against you nature.”

Oberyn smirked and chuckled lightly to himself. “So you already have me figured out?”

“Enough of you anyway.” You turned away from him. In a second you felt two strong arms wrap around your torso to pull you against a strong, muscled chest. Warm breath caressed your ear, “Would you like to figure out the rest of me?” Oberyn said in a deep sultry voice. It sent a shiver down your spine that he could no doubt feel. And for a brief moment you considered it. The feeling of his warm, soft skin embracing yours. The feeling of his lips on your body. The feel – No! You would not give in to this rascal. With every force in you that you could muster, you pushed him away from you; glowered at him with all of the hatred you could find within yourself and walked away from him.

///

The wedding ceremony went on without much effort on your part. All you did was go through the motions you were taught. The only exertion you had to attempt was to not look like the life was being sucked out of you with every passing moment of the observance – or to not look like at any moment you could plunge a dagger into your husband’s neck; which he undoubtedly saw, and wore an arrogant smirk the whole time because of it. After what felt like an age you were being cloaked, and you took Oberyn’s arm where he led you and the wedding company to the great hall for the feast.

During the feast you watched as a very gorgeous, and obviously Dornish woman came and bowed to you and the prince, and then took a seat to the left of Oberyn. You nodded to yourself, ‘Ah, so this is the famous Ellaria Sand.’ You thought. The anger and distrust on you face must have been evidently manifested itself because your brother, Renly, who was sat to the right of you, placed a hand on yours and squeezed it reassuringly.

In that moment, the memory that you would lose him after this night came crashing back to you. The most important people in the world would be gone from your life after tonight. This would be the last evening you would spend with those you loved more than anything. Your heart burst in your chest and you had to choke down the tears that were welling up in your eyes. You took a deep breath to try to steady yourself to make it through the rest of the evening…and the night. When you opened your eyes again, you caught those of your older brother, Robert, who gave you a thankful look. Like he could see how much of an inconvenience he had put you in, and he was very grateful that you fulfilled your duties to your house and your king.

That evening you danced with the two brothers of yours that came to the ceremony, as well as with Oberyn’s relatives. They were all rather pleasant gentlemen. They made you feel slightly less perturbed about having to move half the world away from your family. The dance with Renly proved to be the hardest. He was not only your favourite brother, but your best friend. He promised to come and visit at least every few months, and Prince Doran, Oberyn’s older brother and ruling body in Dorne, insisted that whoever you wanted could visit whenever. So at least your heart was put slightly at ease before the hardest part of the night. The marriage consummation.

You walked into the bedroom, hand in hand with Oberyn. In the room there was a balcony, which you raced to as soon as the bedroom doors were closed. The cool night air woke you up from the small stupor that you had fallen into from the feast. Within a few moments you had felt your wedding cloak being taken from your shoulders. You shivered as the coolness of the air licked your bare shoulders. Then shivered again once you felt a pair of lips gently caress your skin.

You couldn’t deny that it felt nice. Oberyn certainly knew what he was doing. But no matter how good it felt, you couldn’t wait for this night to be over. As much as you recognized that you wanted him, you knew in your heart that he would never be just yours. And you knew that if you gave in and grew pleasant feelings towards him, your heart would just end up broken. You refused to allow that. You had to remember that tonight, no matter what he made you feel, that you were nothing more than a tool he’d use for his own pleasure.

Amidst all of these thoughts, you noticed, while never having taking your eyes off of the stars, trying your best to not cry, that Oberyn’s lips and his hands were surprisingly gentle, especially considering how that had felt earlier that day. That was when you looked down to realize what was happening. The hands that gently rubbed up and down your arms were feminine. And the hair that cascaded down by your neck where kisses were being placed was definitely woman’s hair. In an instant you pushed away and looked to find Ellaria Sand standing behind you in a see-through gown, and Oberyn a few feet behind her in the balcony’s doorway, looking at you with the smuggest look you had ever seen on a person’s face.

“Enjoying yourself, my wife?” He asked you, his voice dripping in overconfidence as he slowly stepped over to you.

“No.” you replied curtly. He chuckled proudly.

“The flush of your cheeks,” he started, brushing his hand tenderly over your cheek, “And chest,” he moved his hand down to your chest to softly trail over your collar bone, “Suggest otherwise.” He finished. His hand had now found its way to the back of your head. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. The area between your legs burned with anticipation. You knew you shouldn’t want this. Want either of them. But maybe it was just that reason that made this so sexy. You had never been one to act out. Always been a good daughter and a good sister to the king. But now? You knew that any desires you might have harbored would be kept safe within the confines of this room. Be kept safe by both Oberyn and Ellaria.

It was in this moment that the reason that they were so close is because they both gave in to each other’s sexual desires. And they were never judged, never looked down upon. Together, behind closed doors, they could be whoever and whatever with each other. And yes, while the sexual intimacy brought them close together, it was really the safety that they felt with each other that sealed their bond. And now they were inviting you to be a part of it too. They were inviting you to be a trio with them.

You looked over to Ellaria who was now some feet behind Oberyn. She gave you a reassuring look, as if to let you know that everything you were think was true. As soon as your eyes came back to Oberyn he smiled cockily at you and brought his lips roughly to yours. Your eyes widened in surprise, but the pleasure of the kiss quickly caused them to close. Within a moment your lips were moving along with his, letting his tongue into your mouth, and you moaned at the contact. You could feel Oberyn smirk into the next kisses, and while it made you furious, the roaming of his hands down your back side distracted you.

Soon you felt another pair of hands move to your shoulders and then lips leave kisses in their wake. Ellaria’s hands tried to turn you toward her. You broke the kiss with Oberyn. It left you feeling excited but dulled at the same time. Maybe it was the all the wine you had consumed at dinner, or maybe it was the unspoken safety of these two that had you feeling so foggy. But when Ellaria went in to kiss you, rather than pushing her away and getting out of there, you greeted her eagerly and kissed back. While you kissed Ellaria, Oberyn’s hands caressed your sides as his mouth worked wonders on your neck.

Oberyn worked the ties of your dress loose while Ellaria continued to kiss you. Strong hands pushed the heavy fabric from your body; it fell to the floor around your feet. You were left in just your corset and under dress. Oberyn started to kiss the exposed skin on your back as Ellaria broke your kiss to undo your corset. It fell to the ground with a thud.

You knew that normally you wouldn’t be doing this. You would have wanted to just have sex with Oberyn to consummate the marriage and then be done with it. But right now, in your hazy and licentious state, you had abandoned all modesty. You let your head roll back onto Oberyn’s shoulder as he started to kiss and nip your neck rougher than before. The feeling of it made a small moan escape from your mouth. Your eyes shot open and you lifted your head up. Suddenly, you were very aware of what was going on.

“Don’t worry, my love and I will take good care of you tonight.” Ellaria spoke decadently, running her hands up your sides to rest on your breasts and gently squeeze them. You bit your lip to stifle back a moan. No! You couldn’t do this! You were a lady! The sister to the King! You couldn’t partake in this. You turned to try to get away, but you were caught in Oberyn’s arms.

“I know you wish for fidelity. I can promise you that it will always just be the three of us, from now on.” He moved to cup your cheek in one hand, the other brushed hair out of your face. His touch was so caring, so loving. You couldn’t help but believe his words. Then you remembered how hard it was to keep your eyes open fully. As your eye lids drooped down the foggy haze began to settle in your head again. Oberyn leaned down to kiss you. This kiss was different from the others though. This one had compassion in it. Like he was trying to show you how honest he was being right now. Like he was trying to convey the loyalty the he and Ellaria were proposing to you.

You couldn’t fight it anymore. The muddled feeling in your head and the lust you could feel pooling between your legs. Your body ached to give in to both Oberyn and Ellaria. So finally, you threw reserve to the wind and you moaned and threw your arms around Oberyn’s neck to pull him closer to you. Ellaria worked your under dress off of your body, kissing the skin that was uncovered along the way. Once it too was left in the pile with your dress and corset, she and Oberyn slowly walked you back into the bedroom and onto the bed.

///

You woke with the biggest headache you’d ever experienced. Slowly sitting up and rubbing your eyes, you looked around the room. Clothes on the floor, your dress out on the balcony. You looked down and saw Oberyn sleeping soundly next you. He had had his arm wrapped around you before you had sat up. And on the other side of him, wrapped in his other arm was Ellaria, also soundly asleep.

A pang of jealousy coursed through you. You vaguely remembered what had happened last night, where they proposed a loyal but polyamorous relationship between the three of you. You accepted last night that that was going to be the deal. That you would have to share Oberyn with another woman, and in turn, she would love you as well. While on the face of it, this deal did have some perks. But even now, as a grown woman, you were never quite good with sharing. Renly always made fun you for it. Pointing out your frustration when you had to share something with another Lady of the court or something. So even though you agreed to this three way love triangle, the sight of Oberyn holding another naked woman made your blood boil and your heart ache.

Trying to shake it off, you got out of bed and began to get ready. You would be leaving King’s Landing today. You needed to say goodbye to everyone. Especially Renly. You pulled on your under dress and put on a casual dress from the wardrobe and went to where you usually met Renly for breakfast.

“Good morning, Newly Wed!” He called to you as you entered the dining room. You gave him a flat look that told him that you were in no mood for any antics. He smirked as you came to sit down beside him.

“It’s done. It’s over. And now I never have to do it again.” You said flatly. But you couldn’t help the blush that rose on your cheeks as you remembered the activities of the night before. You had to admit that they were very pleasurable, and that Oberyn and Ellaria definitely knew what they were doing. And that maybe, if you were in the right mood, you might possibly want to do it again. You pushed those thoughts from your head and found your resolve again. You knew that if you gave into them, each intimate encounter with them would chip away a piece of your heart until there was nothing left but an empty void. You could feel it already. A piece of who you were had been secreted away to somewhere you could never get it back. It was like when you lose a tooth and your tongue can’t help but prod the empty space. Trying to fill the hole. But it never really feels right again until the tooth grows back. Except you knew that there was no way to grow back the piece of you that you had lost last night. It was gone forever.

You were too inside your head to see Renly staring at you with a worried expression written on his face. You also didn’t notice Oberyn and Ellaria walk into the eating area arm in arm, looking like had just been enjoying a nice conversation by themselves. You didn’t snap out of your thoughts until you heard Renly’s voice.

“The area is for noble men and women only.” He said scornfully, knowing that these were the individuals responsible for his sister’s depressing disposition this morning. You looked from your brother to your new husband and his paramour. He smirked at Renly and then looked to you.

“If my wife agrees then we will gladly go elsewhere. What say you, my love? Would you like us to leave?” Oberyn spoke to you directly, sweetness and charm dripping from his every word. In that moment you felt it. Oberyn had his hooks in you. All it took was one night of shared passion. And now you were a hollow puppet that he could control. This revelation caused a sad look to fall upon your face. You looked to your lap shamefully.

“No.” You said in a small and defeated voice. You didn’t see Oberyn look concerned for you. But that look was quickly replaced with one of victory when he looked back to Renly, who just looked surprised and sad for you. Renly placed a sympathetic hand on yours under the table as Oberyn and Ellaria sat at the table and started on their breakfast. They sat beside each other and Ellaria was still hanging off of Oberyn’s arm as they ate. It felt as if she knew about the regret and jealousy that you felt about her. Like she was rubbing it in your face that even though Oberyn would make passionate love to you, she would always be his first choice. You could never equal to her. You would never be loved like her. The idea caused your throat to tighten, your breath to catch in your chest, and tears to well up in your eyes. Not wanting to make a scene in front of everyone, to let her know that she was getting to you, you quickly finished the fruit on your plate before you stood from your chair.

“Please pardon me, gentlemen, lady.” You said nodding to the company at the table.

“Y/N?” Renly asked after you but you had already turned and were in the doorway. You didn’t stop when you heard his voice. You couldn’t. You needed to get out of there. As soon as you were far enough away that they couldn’t see you, you started to run for your bedroom. You threw open the door, entered your chambers, and slammed the door shut, locked it, and then slid down the wood to the floor where you started to sob. You were glad that there was no one in the room. The sounds you made rivaled that of a dying cat. Your face probably looked like a gremlin. Everything you were doing was all together very unattractive, but you didn’t care. You just needed to let it out.

All you wanted to do was get into your familiar bed and just cry in that safe space for a little while. But when you looked at your bed, it had been stripped bare. There was nothing but a mattress there. All of the furniture in your room had been covered with cloth. It was empty. Everything had been packed up because you were meant to leave for Dorne today. The realization that this was a permanent arrangement, that this was no longer your home, it hit you like a ton of bricks. Rather than finding solace in your room you found more misery. So you just continued to sob on the floor by the door. All you could do was hope that no one was passing your room in the hallway where they could hear your cries of agony.

What you were unaware of was that a moment after you had dismissed yourself from breakfast, both Renly and Oberyn stood from the table. Ellaria looked at both of them, eyebrows knit up.

“I’ll go.” Oberyn said, intending to follow after you. After a moment of pondering, Renly nodded to Oberyn and sat back down. Oberyn squeezed Ellaria’s shoulder before leaving the table and following the sound of your shoes down the corridors to a room where he saw you run into and slam the door closed. As he approached the door he could hear you crying. Wailing in true anguish. He was taken aback by the sound. He knew that the reason for your suffering had to be because of him and Ellaria. He did not realize that devotion to a single lover meant so much to you. He felt a pang of regret hit him. Now he felt like this marriage was truly a bad idea. He felt scrupled about last night. But he knew that he wasn’t about to change his ways. And there was no way to annul this marriage. Both his brother and your brother would never allow it. Were you really doomed to suffer heartbreak everyday at his hand? At a loss for what to do, Oberyn just turned and started back to his own quarters to oversee the packing in silence.

///

After a lengthy and tearful goodbye from your friends and family, you found yourself on a ship set sail for Dorne. You looked off the end of the ship to find three more ships following yours. It felt like all of the eyes on those ships were looking, watching you. So you slowly made your way to the front of the ship. There wasn’t anyone there. And when you reached the wooden rail and looked over the side of the ship you could see dolphins swimming along with it. It made you smile. The bubbly and carefree attitude of the dolphins made you feel, even if it was only for a second, that things would feel alright again.

You leaned down to rest your head in your hand and watch the dolphins for a while, enjoying their jovial nature. But that peaceful moment was interrupted by a familiar, “Ahem.” You sighed annoyingly, turning to see Oberyn standing behind you. He gave you a wary look. It was in his eyes that you knew that he had been by the door when you were falling apart. You looked down in embarrassment.

“Don’t you dare give such a look, Y/N.” Oberyn said approaching you and placing a reassuring hand at your elbow, making you look up at him. He cupped your cheek in his other hand. “Despite what you may think, I can understand how terrible this is for you.”

You couldn’t help the scoff that passed your lips and you rolled your eyes, turning around once again to watch the dolphins off the side of the boat. How could a man who has no moral compass for monogamy even remotely understand how you were feeling. Someone who doesn’t have to worry about leaving his entire body of family and friends know the overwhelming loneliness that was coursing through your body right now. Oberyn came to lean on the rail with you. After a moment of very awkward silence he spoke again:

“Perhaps you will find someone in Dorne who will make you happy.” Oberyn tried to comfort. You chuckled disdainfully at the thought.

“You’re supposed to be the one who makes me happy.” You countered.

“I don’t know that I can give you what you’re looking for.” He admitted.

“I know.” You said, eyes drooping down in sorrow. A pang of heartbreak sounded in your heart.

Oberyn saw your face fall and it did something within him. The part of him that saw this in others and had nothing but pity for them was changed. Now it wanted to take you and hold you in his arms. It wanted to give you exactly what you wanted just to see you smile again. Because he really did think you were most beautiful when you smiled. He saw your smile first when you were dancing with Renly at your wedding, and when he saw it, though he didn’t know it then, it sparked something in Oberyn that he would not feel until this day. Was it empathy? Or something similar. Love? ‘No.’ he thought. ‘I don’t love.’ But at this thought he felt something doubtful inside him. Like he was lying to himself. He tried to shake it off.

“I’m sorry.” Oberyn said before walking away, leaving you to let silent tears fall down your face and into the ocean.

[mrneighbourlove]

Fall of a Dynasty: Ch 7. First Steps to Forgiveness

At Hyrule Castle, Athena was distracted by the architecture of the palace. It was so different than her homeland. “Manaco. Is King Covarog as beastly as people say he is?”

"That really depends on if my aunt is in the room." Manaco could not help but grin. "He can't keep his hands off of her for long, so say the servants. But if you're referring to his temper?" He grimaced a little. "Uncle Covarog can be... scary. For sure. Though he's not the one that can cut you down with a single look. That's my Aunt Zarazu. Aunt Zolori, on the other hand, knows how to insult someone in three different languages."

“Can he transform into a frightening beast like his father?” Griffith asked. “We have stories passed down from our mother that if we didn’t behave as children, the great and terrible Ganon would come in the night to rip and tear us apart.”

"I've never seen him turn into a beast like his father." Manaco admitted, "But then again, I've never seen him when he's lost control either. I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps he can, perhaps he cannot."

“Well, I’m sure he’ll be hospital towards us.”

"I'm fairly sure he's going to be surprised..." Manaco took a deep breath as the three of them approached the throne room doors. This was either going to be really good or really bad. He prayed that it would go smoothly, for the sake of Athena's homeland. Then, he opened the doors.

Athena and Griffith held their heads high, carefully walking in. Inside was a young red head girl, most likely twenty or so, talking with the Queen and King. She looked a tad wild, but still held a royal air.

"Luimaya, I have told you again and again, I don't want you doing such dangerous tricks on Carsa'sec, you could fall off." Covarog was not scolding his daughter, just expressing his concern. "He's not the most careful flier either."

"Daaad, Mom did those tricks when she was my age, why can't I?" Luimaya was getting rather tired of her father being so overprotective. "Carsa'sec has never dropped me! I've never fallen off!"

"She has a point, my love." Zarazu was trying to find middle ground. "If you feel so uneasy, we can always modify her saddle."

"...? Manaco?" Luimaya glanced at her cousin and then at the two Hasai. Zannah's kids, what were they doing here?

"Ah yes, I heard you were here." Zarazu turned her attention to the twins. "I am very surprised about the proposal you submitted, Manaco. Though, I am delighted that Athena accepted." She knew not of Bonegrinder's dealing with this, thinking it was predominantly Ralnor. "We shall be sure to attend the wedding."

Covarog, however, still held no love for Zannah or anyone born of Zannah. The Hasai had left a bad taste in his mouth for ages. No matter how hard he tried to mask it, there was still that underlying scowl on his face.

"They didn't come here just to extend an invitation, they're here to ask for something." Covarog stated. "What do you want?"

Athena took a deep breath. Time to put all her learning to the test. With a smile, she gave a bow. “Greetings. I am Princess Athena. Soon to be granted the status of Empress Athena of the Empire State to Hyrule.”

Griffith did his very best to not wince at that distinction. They’d soon bow to Hyrule. “And I am Prince Griffith. We’ve met Queen Zarazu plenty of times, but never King Covarog.” It didn’t take the man any time at all to turn on the charm. “And you must be Princess Luimaya. Queen Zarazu has mentioned your near legendary skill at riding dragons at such a young age.”

"Enough of the pleasantries. You two either wish to ask a favor or your mother sent you here in her stead to do her bidding. Probably the latter." Covarog scoffed. "This is about the civil war back in the empire, isn't it?"

"My king..." Zarazu's voice held a tone, asking him to be nice. "Please."

"... I already told your mother, we will not concern ourselves with a civil war that should be handled by the kingdom itself."

“Well, seeing that we are to become part of your kingdom, I suppose it’ll be your problem too.”

“What my Brother means to say, is that our mother wishes to have a strike force help her deal with the radical anarchists. She believes that our late Uncle Nihilus has returned from the dead. Is it not true that your father had to take the full strength of your Triforce to defeat him because he faced him alone? She wants a team to deal with him quickly before he can grow stronger.”

"I figured one day that her own people would turn against such a tyrant." Covarog did not like the idea of another fight. More lives could be in danger. Yet, if the prince was telling the truth, and Nihilus was back, then this would be a problem. He would have that bastard nowhere near his wife and children. "And my father crushed Nihilus like an ant."

"Perhaps I could handle this situation, my king?" Zarazu gently placed her hand on top of Covarog's. "You could take Luimaya to modify her saddle."

"... very well." Covarog stood from his throne and held his wife's hand, easing her up as well. "Put an end to this nonsense, my queen."

"As you say."

“Did you just call my mother a tyrant? Or my uncle?” Athena rose a hand to the King.

"They're both tyrants, princess. I hope you seek not to follow their paths in the future." Covarog glared at Athena, almost resembling his terrifying father in that moment. "My queen will deal with your situation, Manaco."

Exiting the throne room with his daughter, Covarog knew he would lose his temper and was grateful his wife could handle this stupidity.

"... Manaco, may I speak frankly?"

"Yes, Aunt Zar---I mean, my queen." Manaco had to keep up appearances in the presence of other royals.

"This situation is quite... unique." Zarazu descended the steps to the twins and her nephew. "I am a touch concerned about the return of this brother of Zannah's."

Athena and Griffith both swore at Covarog behind his back, with the former muttering under her breath. “Hope you get a heart attack.”

There attention turned to Zarazu, they both calmed their emotions. “Queen Zarazu. I know my mother has hurt both you and Covarog, but that doesn’t make her a tyrant. She wants to help our people. I want to help my people. She said that Rinku was a capable warrior who could help.”

"Rinku is older than myself and my king, princess. Even if you were to ask her, I'm sure she could not handle your uncle alone." Zarazu sighed, trying to find a way to say what was needed without further upsetting the twins. "I understand that there is history between your mother and my king. Yet, there is also how she hurt my sister and betrayed her trust. While I know you two are not your mother, I cannot held but have caution meddling in these affairs. Do you understand? I am trying not to be biased."

“We know. Will you help our people and the sanctity of a partnership our kingdoms hold, if not our mother?”

"... I want to help you and your people, not only because of this partnership, but also because they are not at fault for the actions of your mother."

Suddenly, Zarazu felt a large part pat on the back lerch her forward, despite the small weight Rinku held. “Who you calling old Queenie?”

Both the adopted elder princesses came by out of concern when they heard new Hasai were in the castle.

The queen jolted slightly when the hero suddenly appeared behind her. "You are old, Rinku." Zarazu responded dryly in good humor. "I'm old, your siblings are old. Ralnor is super old cause he's a grandfather now."

“What? Me?” Rinku fake frowned, her wrinkles pulling at her face. “Late Fifties and early sixties ain’t old. Just look at Leere.”

“Sis. You know I’m a special case right?”

“Anyways, who’s the asshat that needs taking down?”

"... Zannah's brother... Nihilus is somehow returned." Zarazu informed Leere and Rinku. "I don't suppose the snake will accompany you on this one?"

Both the elder princess’ grew stone cold faces, old memories opening up. “Ah... well, I suppose I better get the blade.”

As Rinku ran off, Leere examined both the Hasai, pressing them for answers. “Do you know if Nihilus was brought back by necromancy? How powerful is the body?”

Griffith shook his head. “Our Patreon god resurrected him.”

Athena murmured, angry at all the trouble this brought. “Maybe we should worship Vatra instead.”

"Exodrum is the cause..." Zarazu sighed, now feeling worried. "A deity involved in this doesn't give me the best outlook on this situation. Only another deity can take down another deity unless you have a way to trap this one."

Manaco then glanced at Athena when she mentioned Vatra. "... if you wish to speak to Vatra, I could take you to her temple."

Leere turned to Zarazu. “Well, you’re a Demi-god, right? All the spirits combined into one vessel.” The Princess patted Zarazu’s bicep to brighten her up. “I’m an expert on undeath. Maybe I can make him un-UN-dead?”

“And I can put down any evil with this.” Rinku had returned, holding the Sword of Evil’s Bane in her hand. The Master Sword.

"No, I am no deity nor demi-god," Zarazu shook her head, making sure to stay humble. "I am simply the connection between the Seven Siblings and their children. I am magic. That is all."

“Fine. You’re a sexy ass kicker.”

Athena nodded to Manaco before looking to the older women. “Would you all met my mother at Zizi’s then? We’ll return to you shortly.”

"We will come up with a plan to help your nation," Zarazu assured the prince and princess. "We will meet you there in an hour."

~

One enormous temple was dedicated to the Seven Siblings. Each spirit had their own shrine where offerings were placed or given acts of worship. Vatra's part of the temple held hundreds of burning candles and a statue of the spirit herself. The fiery sibling was composed of nothing but the hottest flames in a silhouette of a woman.

"Vatra is like Exodrum with flames, Athena," Settling on his knees, Manaco summoned his own flame and used it to light a candle. "But she does not deem who is strong and who is weak by the measure of their fire, but by their heart."

Griffith had gone on ahead, citing his reasoning is he didn’t want to anger Exodrum until after they killed their uncle. Athena got on her knees, fascinated by the culture. “As long as she doesn’t appear as a shark. That’s so fascinating Manaco. Is she a god of peace and of kind nature then?”

"Vatra is actually a goddess," Manaco held up at candle for Athena to light in respect. "She commands all fire, from the depths of a volcano to the simplest flame of a hearth. Not only does she encourage us to find our passion, but she also expects us to fight for or work for what we want. A fire by itself can provide beautiful light and heat, but if we are not careful and go ablaze, then it can also destroy. There is two sides to each spirit here. The tranquil... and the deadly."

Athena nodded, lighting the candle. Tranquil Vatra... and a deadly Exodrum? That was her own conclusion. “I wonder if she’d listen to me. I... I wasn’t kind to your gods Manaco. When I was injured, I cursed your gods because I thought your mother might have caused my accident to spite my mother. That your gods would have allowed that. I’m sorry for that anger.”

"In moments of anger, it is easy to place blame. While many accuse the spirits of unfortune, I promise you, they are very benevolent. I'm sure the spirits will forgive you if you ask for it." Manaco set her candle next to his. "Vatra listens to each and every prayer. While she might not grant every request of personal value, sometimes, she will listen to a just cause."

Athena gave Manaco’s hand a squeeze for reassurance, her green skin smooth against his hand. Closing her eyes, she made her pray. “Vatra. Goddess of Fire. Please hear my plea. I ask you to find it in your heart to forgive my mother of any sins. I ask that you look after us as we struggle in times of violence, and that we might come to live in the coming days. I plea to you to lend us strength.”

Manaco remained silent as Athena said her prayer to Vatra. He had thoughts of his own spinning through his mind. How could he be a good ruler? Would he be a decent husband? Children were to be expected, was he cut out to be a model father? There were so many expectations with this upcoming change in his life. Yet, he had admired Athena from afar for so long. Now, to have her at his side... it seemed like a dream come true. The young man silently prayed to Vatra that she help him with the events, whatever may rise, in the future.

Finished her pray, Athena took a few deep breaths. “After this morning, Im glad she didn’t appear, to be honest.”

"Heh... I suppose my uncle the king is not the easiest person to deal with." Manaco rubbed the back of his neck. "He's not so forgiving and can be quite intimidating." He then was quiet for a moment before asking, "What do you... think of this union?"

“I was referring to Exodrum to be honest. Your uncle is an asshole, not a terrifying apparition.” Athena took some time to reflect on that before answering. “I understand my duty to my people. An arranged marriage was something I never thought I’d go through. Once I passed thirty years of age, I honestly thought myself too old for marriage. With my mother not aging, I didn’t worry about continuing the line. But now, my future is so undetermined. It’s scary and sudden. I can’t help but feel I’m a pawn to your uncles. On the other hand, I have no experience with dating. I’ve never even kissed anyone. Now I’m expected to get married, led the Empire, and give birth?”

Athena set the candle down, playing with the flame using her abilities as a way to calm herself. “I suppose I can’t complain. My mother’s sacrifices were so much worse. And she gave my brother and I happy childhoods free from strife, something she never got. To be truthful Manaco, it took all I had to not strike your father. My mother had hurt his family and yours with her actions, but she was never a tyrant. She was always kind to other Hasai and changed a system of glory seeking warriors into simply survivors who lived and worked alongside one another. He insults my honour by insulting hers with the title of tyrant. A tyrant wouldn’t have given up her throne to help their children.”

"He can definitely be a jerk sometimes." Manaco agreed, knowing full well of the 'incident' of long ago when his father first courted his mother. He patiently listened to Athena's words. She had reasonable fears of the unknown. It was to be expected. Yet, to his surprise, there was nothing negative about him. Part of him thought Athena might not wish for this union due to the differences between the two of them. She did make good points about her mother, yet, he could also see Covarog's side as well. To his uncle, Zannah was the person responsible for Kanisa's strife and suffering. In his eyes, that made her a tyrant. "My uncle... he's not like Lorleidians, not at all. I think that's why my aunt makes such a good match for him." He spoke quietly. "I know of the good your mother did for her people. Yet, I also know of the... not so savory acts she committed against my family and relatives. There's a lot of tension and mistrust, for sure. I suppose from one point of view and then other, a person can be seen as two different sides of a coin." Manaco gently brushed a wild strand of hair from Athena's face. "Though, I swear before Vatra, I will do my best by you."

Athena didn’t move away as Manaco brushed her hair. The woman smiled at his smooth move, a light chuckle escaping her pillowy lips. “I look forward to that Manaco.”

"Though do you think you could do something about your brother constantly glaring at me?" Manaco chuckled sheepishly. "I feel like he's trying to debate whether or not if he could get away with killing me."

Athena grasped both Manaco’s hands with her left, then stroked his cheek calm with her right. “I’ll talk to him. We only have each other as siblings, so he’s always been protective of me, and I of him. I’ll make sure he decides against hurting you, alright?”

"Thank you. I don't plan on starting a fight with him, nor do I want to hurt him." Manaco smiled at Athena's light touch. "I just don't want to see you upset if I do have to kick his ass." He jested in good humor. "I think I at least have a fair shot, right?"

“Perhaps. Our mother did have us be trained by T0-D though.” Suddenly, Athena looked worried. “He’s still at the palace.”

"Oh... what do you think T0-D will do, then?" Manaco asked Athena, knowing the robot had served the Kikai Empire for years on end. "Is he going with your mother to Danjur? Or will he stay?"

“He has right to whatever choice he’d like. He’s been rather depressed though lately.”

"... depressed?" Manaco repeated, not sure he heard correctly. "T0-D is... sad? ... sorry, I'm not doubting your truth, I'm just... the robot is always so sassy. So sure of itself. I don't think I've ever heard of or even seen T0-D being depressed."

"... he did?" Manaco looked surprised now. "I didn't think he cared for my mother all that much..."

"He likes the people he forms bonds with before they inevitably die from aging." Athena picked herself up, taking Manaco's hand to lift him up from kneeling.

"I recall he was very sassy and liked to call humans by the title of 'meatbags'." Manaco rose from his spot in front of the shrine. "That's... really it. Hopefully when you and I return to the empire, he'll find a new purpose if we give him something to do."

"Well, we can't get him to stop calling people meatbags."

~

At the house, Zannah bandaged up her arms, thinking over Bonegrinder's council over and over and over in her head. Finally, she picked herself up from the second floor of the barn and jumped down the ladder to go to Zizi's house. When she saw Zizi sitting on her front porch and waiting for the other women to arrive, Zannah paused. She opened her mouth to speak the words, then closed them. "Zizi..."

Fifteen children, twenty-seven years old marriage, ten greenhouses, and fifty plantations in Hyrule... that was Zizi's legacy here. In the Kikai Empire, she helped rebuild the fields for healthy crops and earned the trust and respect of the people who lived there. However, ever since she found out about how Zannah used Kahli and betrayed her family, Zizi had not stepped foot on Hasai soil. Yet, she could not do anything about a particular someone coming here of all places.

Zizi was not one to snoop, but she overheard Zannah talking to the huge snake. Forgiveness was... hard.

"To start... I'm sorry for throwing a punch at you. Can I sit beside you?"

"... the seat is open."

Zannah took it, looking out over the land of Hyrule. "Did you and Kahli choose this hill top on purpose? It's incredibly pretty to lookout over the landscape. I don't often I get to relax. To simply be at a peace of mind."

"My sister gave this land to Kahli and I for our first anniversary." Zizi figured for now, she'd humor Zannah. "He built this house for me and our children. Then again, it is a bit crowded sometimes, we never expected fifteen children."

"Fifteen children. I can't even imagine. Tell me, does having a father in their life makes things better for them?"

"Is that a trick question?" Zizi mused. "Yes, Kahli did his best by them. Spoiled them a little, taught them a lot, and loved them immensely. What more could I ask for?"

"A trick question? No. My children never had a father growing up. By the time they had Annuciata in their life, they were already in their mid teens. And hell consume me if I ever dared to take inspiration from my own father. So no, I don't think you could ask for more than a loving family." Zannah smiled with a silent sigh in her energy. "Tell me. What was your own father like?"

"I'm beginning to think you're attempting conversation, Zannah, to throw me off guard." Zizi watched as the sunset caused streaks of purple, orange, and pink across the sky. "I met him a couple of times before he died, I guess. I haven't seen him in decades, so I suppose he's passed away. Drunkard, gambler, womanizer... probably a good thing I can't remember him. He wasn't in my life. My mother died before I met her. My only 'parent' was my sister, Zarazu. She raised me from a newborn, Zolori from the time she was five, and Ba'puu from an egg."

"My mother was a concubine. A tool I was aware of, but never allowed to socialize with. My father was a sick, genocidal old man- no, a monster. Because of him I never had a proper childhood. I didn't know what love was for a long time. I only knew that I didn't want to bring my children the same harm. I suppose that is why I thought it acceptable to sacrifice the friendship we had. I was just another offspring from the ballsack of another monster." Zannah relaxed her shoulders, finally getting to the point. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I can't change history to make you forget, or ask you forgive me. But I will say I'm sorry."

"... I never thought you'd actually apologize." Zizi told Zannah, not looking directly at her. "I just... don't understand why. Maybe I'm incapable of it. Or perhaps I really don't want to know the answer. It could even be that it's my nature. A Zemlja doesn't like to hurt people and I have a hard time understanding why humans like to hurt other humans. Though when I found out about it... that was the first time I truly wished to hurt someone."

"I never took pleasure in hurting you." Zannah smirked at her knuckles, still bruised from punching Zizi. "Well, not with my plans anyways. I just shut you out because I felt it was easier for the greater good. Be grateful you never had to think about what's best for thousands of people. I thought that I could live with the betterment of thousands over just two friendships I made. I can't change what I did. Or even go into full details of my rational. I'm just sorry I hurt you. I stuck a stake through our friendship without a second thought because I honestly didn't recognize how deep our friendship was. How important friendships can be."

"Even if you didn't take pleasure from it or had any possible reason that this somehow was the best for your people... you can't expect to become a great leader from the sole purpose of using those around you, Zannah." Zizi said quietly. "Not only does it hurt them, but it can hurt you as well."

"It's defiantly hurt me. But not my people... yet I'm not here sitting beside you because it hurt me or them. I hurt you Zizi."

"You did. But not only me, Zannah. You hurt Kahli too. You hurt my family. They all adored you... and that was broken in an instant."

"I didn't even know..."

"You do now." Zizi sighed before saying. "I don't think I can forgive you. At least, not yet. I'm not there yet. I can't speak for Kahli or my family. I don't know if I'll ever trust you again. But... the least I can do is try to get along with you for the sake of my son." She clasped her hands together. "I never knew Manaco felt so strongly for Athena to get involved so deeply like this, though all I want is for him to be happy. For them to be happy. And if that means tolerating you... then I can do that."

"Alright. Then how about we start with tolerance?"

"I believe we both can do that." Zizi snorted in jest. "You would have given Venu'sa a bellyache anyway."

"Wouldn't it be heartburn?"

Zannah looked to the right to see Rinku, Leere, and both her and Zizi's children return. It seemed Athena and Mancao ran up to catch up with the others.

To view his mother sitting beside of Zannah without trying to tear out the woman's throat was... unsettling. Manaco wondered what the two of them were discussing. Either this was really good or really bad. He hoped everyone would be keeping their heads after this.

"Mom?" Manaco approached cautiously, eying both his mother and Zannah. "We spoke to Auntie Zarazu and paid our respects to Vatra at the temple... she will give us a few hands, but due to political reasons and the treaty, she cannot go herself. A queen attacking Hasai citizens that she has deemed as allies, regardless of a civil war, might be viewed poorly by others."

Zannah kept her face neutral at seeing a Leere and Rinku approach. Despite varied histories and feelings towards them, they were both remarkable fighters. They’d serve their purpose. Standing up, she whistled for Bonegrinder. “I don’t know how many have sided with my brother, but we are assured a fight. I will face my brother with Rinku. We can kill him then. The rest of you will deal with the traitors. You can kill them or incapacitate them; I care not which.”

Both Athena and Griffith nodded, not questing their mother’s order to fight.

"You're going to be at a disadvantage." Manaco treaded the waters carefully, not really wanting to piss off his to-be mother-in-law. "Your brother has Exodrum. And Bonegrinder can't show himself to the masses."

"He'd risk exposing himself to his yet to find, greatest enemy." Zizi knew that while Bonegrinder would do what he could to help, fighting a full-scale battle was out of the question. "He has to be able to remain hidden until Luimaya takes the throne. The snake is picking and choosing his allies now. Hence, why he agreed to help you."

“Hence why we need to move quickly. Rinku’s blade can slay anything with an evil heart, including gods.”

The warrior princess gave a solemn nod to confirm.

"You won't be able to get to your brother directly, he'll have others in the way." Manaco asked, "How should we clear a path?"

Zannah turned to Zizi and Leere. “I trust you both are still power kegs of magic, even outside Hyrule?”

Leere gave a light sigh. “There’s going to be a lot of casualties, aren’t there?”

"Anywhere there is earth, I have my magic." Zizi did not like the sound of what Zannah was going to ask her. "What is your point?"

“Can you deal with the masses using your magic?”

"Deal with them... how?" Zizi inquired, wanting a straight answer. "If you want me to restrain them or trap them, that's different than... just killing them."

“Restraint. Athena and Manaco can deal with their fates after.”

"... and you are sure you can stop Nihilus?" Zizi looked at Rinku for an answer. "Dirt can smother a fire, yet... if a fire burns too hotly, it can consume everything."

“Last I checked he’s flesh and blood. And this blades cut through darkness, flames, and scales.” Rinku unsheathed a part of the Master Sword, the blade humming a low frequency.

"Kahli isn't going to like this..." Zizi sighed, knowing her husband would raise hell. "I'm going to go talk to him. Start packing what you need."

Zannah looked to her children, she looked to Manaco, and she looked to the sisters. When Bonegrinder slithered out, she took Zizi by the hand and pulled her along. “We’re all ready. Bonegrinder. A portal to my palace please.”

"Green lady, take heed of Bonegrinder's advice," The Anagari made a portal with his magic and then said, "Some deities are more so benevolent than others. If one does not listen to your plea... try another."

“We’ll see.”

As Zannah pushed a Manaco and Zizi through, Kahli was little too late to stop them or go after them. “Wait! Where the hell are you going?!”

________________________________________________________________

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/614950440660074496/fall-of-a-dynasty-ch-6-bad-blood-needs-let-going

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/621742623013666816/fall-of-a-dynasty-ch-8-the-hardest-choices

Crossover with @ridersoftheapocalypse

[thatapostateboy]

colourful charade

Pairing: None, just platonic Constantin and de Sardet

Word Count: 1835

Synopsis: A fic about a young de Sardet, her more exasperated mother and an introduction. (I wrote most of this on my phone so please forgive any errors) 

It was the day after her sixteenth birthday that Genevieve de Sardet broke a man’s nose for the first time. There had been plenty of times before that incident where it had been an option she had considered; any number of cruel boys or even crueller adults at court took the opportunity to pass comment on the curling green mark upon her cheek, coming up with increasingly more ludicrous reasons for its existence; an infection, a curse, the true beginning of the Malichor.

It had angered her so much, to listen to people who did not know her judging her for something that she had been born with. Her relation to the royal family saved her any public ridicule, but it was the whispers behind her back that truly hurt her more. It was for that reason that her mother had trained her young how to always strive towards diplomacy. She was a lady of the court, niece to the Prince D’Orsay, she would need to know how to navigate the delicate dealings and political backstabbings that came with that role.

From a young age, she took to those lessons with great enthusiasm, finding a talent within herself for the intrigue and game of it all. She never truly agreed with the secrecy and the way that the nobility clung to their titles even at the expense of the major populace, but she loved knowing how to play them to get what she wanted.

It didn’t stop many of the rumours, but whatever words spread, everyone held a respect for the young Lady de Sardet, for so quickly learning how to play.

And yet, none of it mattered in that moment that she stood in her mother’s room, her usually tidy hair falling loose from her braids, mud on her dress. It was not a fully unusual state of dress, having been a tearaway child, always running off on adventures with her cousin. But the true part that stood out was that her hand was swollen and shaking in pain, a smear of someone else’s blood still on it.

Princess de Sardet let out a heavy sigh as she took in the sight of her daughter, “The guards tell me you punched a boy.”

Genevieve looked away dejectedly. Of course the guards had been the ones to tell on her. The members of the Coin Guard were some of the only people in the palace that she could never wrap her head around. The only way of making this whole incident go away would have been to pay them, but unfortunately, they answered to her mother and her uncle before her.

“I thought I taught you well,” she said, “What is the one thing I told you always to remember, my child?”

“That we are meant to use our words before anything else,” Genevieve muttered.

“And yet, you broke a boy’s nose, and injured your poor hand in the process,” she gestured to her daughter’s shaking hand.

Genevieve let out a huff, trying to defend herself, “But Mother…”

Princess de Sardet put her hand up to quiet her child, “Darling, you are a lady, not a soldier. Whatever happened, it is not your duty to take such actions.”

“But-” she tried to interject to no avail.

“We will have to organise some sort of apology to appease the boy’s family before news of this spreads too far, perhaps an opportunistic marriage arrangement or a position at court or-”

“I had no choice!” she blurted out.

Her mother’s eyebrows raised high, “I’m sorry?”

“Constantin and I had a break between our lessons, so we decided to venture into the city for a few hours. We were careful, we didn’t wear our recognisable clothes. We thought it would be fun to sneak into the Coin Tavern. We had a drink together, we weren’t bothering anyone, when suddenly this boy came up to us. He was a few years older, but I recognised him as the eldest son of the Laval family. Unfortunately, he had recognised us as well, and thought he would take the opportunity whilst he was well into his cups and away from the court to openly tell me in front of the entire tavern what he thought of me. He called me a cursed bitch who wasn’t even worthy of being downstairs with the tavern whores. He told me that his younger brother had contracted the malichor and wondered if slitting my throat would cure him,” she told her.

“That wretched boy. I will ensure he pays for this public scene, I promise you that,” her mother nodded, deep in thought, “So that is when you punched him?”

“Not entirely,” Genevieve said, “It was then that dear Constantin attempted to come to my rescue. He denounced him, threatened to have his tongue for the threats against his fair cousin, and told him that he would regret ever laying eyes on me. At which point the Laval boy laughed and told Constantin that he was a weaselly little bastard and his father would disown him before he ever disappointed everyone enough to take the throne. He then knocked Constantin to the ground and was going to attack him. I grabbed my mug and threw it at him to get his attention away from Constantin… And that is when I punched him.”

“I see.”

Her mother rose from her desk and paced to the window looking out across her view of the city, quiet for a long moment.

Genevieve took a deep breath, but held her head high, “I know my duty, mother, and my duty will always be to protect Constantin. Through whatever means necessary. It wasn’t the situation for words, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. If you wish to punish me for that, I will accept it, but I will not regret my actions.”

The Princess de Sardet turned to look back at her daughter, letting out a drawn out sigh, “I need time to think on this. For now, return to your room and I will make sure someone sees to your hand… But thank you for telling me the truth. I will make sure appropriate punishments are dealt out.”

~*~*~

It was later that evening as she sat curled up in her armchair by the fire reading a book, that she heard her door open. She smiled to herself, not even looking up. There was only one person who ever came in without knocking.

“Good evening, dear cousin,” she said.

“My fair cousin, I have been desperate to come here to speak with you,” Constantin said, eagerly taking his usual seat in the chair opposite hers, “Once we were hauled back here by the guards, and then separated to be lectured by our mothers, I haven’t had the time to thank you.”

She set her book down, “You don’t need to thank me.”

“I do,” he nodded, “Had you not been there with me, I do not know what would have happened.”

“You wouldn’t have started a fight with a boy nearly twice the size of you,” she pointed out with a smirk.

“The brute started it himself when he insulted you,” he said, “I could not stand to hear him say such foul things about you.”

“I can handle myself, Constantin,” she reminded him.

“I know, but we look after each other. It’s what we do… Though you are more likely to be the one looking after me. My lucky star. Always there to pull me out of my fires… I cannot believe that you truly broke his nose,” he said with a hum of laughter.

“And near broke my hand doing it,” she said, raising her bandaged hand. A healer had dealt with it for her, but had told her to rest it for the evening to prevent any further damage.

“Has your mother doled out any punishment yet?” he asked, “My father was furious, hearing that I was nearly part of a bar brawl in broad daylight. He was in the middle of lecturing me about disappointment and responsibility when your mother came in to talk to him. He sent me to my room and I’ve not heard a thing since.”

“Neither have I,” she admitted, “I’m starting to find this lack of clarity worse than any punishment they come up with.”

It was then that a soft knock came at the door. Genevieve rose to her feet, calling out for them to enter.

Her mother swept into the room, greeting her nephew with a respectful nod.

“The Prince and I have been in discussion,” she told them, “The Laval boy has received his due justice for his actions in the tavern. It is safe to say that their family is now in disgrace for so openly insulting and nearly assaulting the prince’s son and niece. As for the two of you… Though you prevented a worse fight from occurring, you both still snuck out of the palace without informing anyone, spent the afternoon in a tavern, and then injured a young man of the nobility. Whatever your intentions, this is something that cannot be ignored. You will both gather in the courtyard immediately after breakfast tomorrow.”

“What for?” Genevieve asked.

“You will find out in the morning. For now, rest well, both of you. You have a long day ahead of you,” she said with a quirk of her eyebrow and she left the room, leaving the two cousins staring at each other dumb-founded.

~*~*~

The next morning after an awkwardly quiet breakfast, the pair made their way to the courtyard as instructed, neither of them knowing what to expect. They found the Princess de Sardet waiting for them with a man of the Coin Guard, older than them by ten years, dark hair shorn at the sides, scars marking his face.

“If my endless instruction on the matters of court cannot keep you both from trouble after all these years, you both need to know what to do when trouble finds you,” she said, then looked to the man beside her, “This is Kurt, our Master of Arms. He will be taking on your combat instruction from now on.”

Both Genevieve and Constantin’s eyes went wide as they looked from him to her.

“Combat?” Constantin asked, voice dry.

“Yes, dearest nephew,” she nodded, “You must both be prepared for whatever life may throw at you. Your lessons with Kurt will be worked into your daily schedule, but you will be with him all day today. Learn from him. His lessons may one day save your life.”

She gave a regarding nod to Kurt, who returned it with, then she left them in the courtyard with him. They both looked at each other before Kurt let out a gruff chuckle, folding his arms across his chest.

“So, Your Excellencies,” he said, “I hear that someone needs to teach you dainties how to properly break a man’s nose without breaking your hand… Let’s get started.”

[bumblesimagines]

The Bastard Prince

Request: Yes or No

Sorry for so many ocxoc stories! This probably won't become an ocxoc until like part 3. Not so Secret Admirer will probably have two more parts.

"King Stephen and Queen Catherine invite you to a party- This is so boring." Roman tore up the invitation. His aunt, Queen Catherine, huffed as his father rolled his eyes.

"Well, what do you suggest Roman?" Stephen asked.

"Don't you have people that will figure this out for you?" Roman questioned, pouring himself some wine.

"You know how to please people.. Sometimes literally." Catherine said, standing up.

"Help your father while I go check on the decorations." Catherine smiled, going to touch his cheek but Roman moved away from her. Catherine frowned but left the room without a word.

"You should be nicer to her. She's your aunt and your queen." Stephen told him as he shuffled through letters. Roman shook his head, finishing his wine.

"Why should I? You're gonna find a mistress, marry her, and dump Catherine off. You said so yourself when Lilna was born." Roman reminded. Stephen chose not to argue with his son.

"I don't get why you continue to ask for my help.. I'm simply the bastard." Roman placed his cup down, winking before leaving the room. He headed down the hall, nodding to servants and guards.

"Brother!" Roman turned, huffing and stumbling back when Lilna threw herself into his arms.

"What?" He asked, pushing her back gently.

"Mother says cute lords and maybe even princes will be at the party. How do I look?" She spun around, showing off her dress.

"The tiara makes your head look normal and the dress doesn't make you look fat so.. I'd say decent." He answered. Lilna slumped her shoulders, blowing a raspberry.

"Thanks for the confidence boost." She mumbled. Roman smiled.

"Anytime." He walked away, glancing at some maids. Roman made eye contact with a guard, specifically a guard he had slept with countless of times. He rolled his eyes, going past him without a word. He had other things to deal with. Things like getting his dear aunt off the throne.

Roman gently took Catherine's hand, leading her to the dance floor.

"You've grown into a handsome young man." Catherine said as they did a slow dance. Roman smiled, looking at her.

"I take after my mother." He watched her sigh through her nose and nod.

"If I remember correctly... Last time we spoke about her, you called her a whore." Roman mused.

"I remember watching her be beheaded because you told the king she was planning to kill him. What a great sister you were." Roman said, maintaining his soft charming smile.

"You know, there's this saying.. 'The same way you got them is the same way you lose them'." Roman told her. Catherine looked at him, green eyes slightly widened.

"Are you threatening me or warning me?"

"Whichever scares you more." Roman replied, bowing and stepping off the dancefloor. He glanced at Lilna.

"Have you seen Prince Terrance? He's-"

"Off sleeping with a maid." Roman grabbed a cup of wine. Lilna looked at him, brows slightly furrowed.

"The walls have eyes and ears, Li." Roman sipped his wine as Lilna sighed.

"I'll never find my prince." She mumbled. Roman laughed softly.

"Don't worry, father dearest will arrange a marriage for you soon enough." Roman assured. His eyes trailed over to Catherine speaking with a close friend of the king. He watched the friend gently touch her arm.

"Plotting, are we? You never stop, do you?" Roman looked at Alec, his 'ex'. The guard gave a small smile.

"It's honestly none of your business. Do your job." Roman looked away from him. Alec chuckled.

"Remember when you used to hate me being called off to work. Now you pray that I'm on duty everyday." Alec stepped closer, bright eyes shining with amusement. Roman looked at him.

"Pardon me, I have more important people to deal with." Roman pushed past him, placing his empty cup on a table. He stood beside his father's seat.

"I wasn't aware that Catherine was friends with him." Roman said, taking a grape off his fathers' plate. Stephen looked over at his wife.

"Neither was I..."

"They seem awfully close. Closer than you are with him. Are you sure you two are best friends?" Roman asked, playing dumb as he munched on some grapes. Stephen gently drummed his fingers on the armrest.

"Do you think I'll ever get with girls like that?" Roman shifted his father's attention onto his one weakness. Pretty women.

"The blonde is awfully pretty, don't you think?" Roman asked, looking at him.

"I prefer brunettes." Stephen stood, walking towards the group of girls and whisking one off to the dance floor. Roman watched with a tiny grin, finishing up the grapes. Now, it was time to mess with Catherine. He made a beeline to her, smiling.

"Have you seen the lovely couples on the dance floor? Personally, I think none of them will last." Roman shrugged, watching her look over. Her face dropped when she saw Stephen dancing with a younger, prettier girl.

"What's the mat- Oh.." Roman frowned, glancing at her.

"Well, father has a tendency of jumping from girl to girl. It was only a matter of time before he started finding mistresses." Roman said.

"She's kind of... Exotic looking. Father does love new, exotic things. Especially pets." Roman looked at Catherine when she quickly left the ballroom. Roman hummed, stepping over to the friend.

"Catherine just left.. I don't think she's in a good mood. I would comfort her but... We're not exactly close." Roman told him quietly. The middle aged man left the room as well. Roman took a cup from a maid, thanking her.

"I just saw Catherine and some guy leaving, I wonder why." Roman said. The maid would start to spread gossip and Stephen would eventually catch wind of it. Toying with people was probably Romans favourite pass time.

[poweredbycoffeeandwine]

12 Days of Christmas (9/12)

I set this day aside for me. I have been plotting this pairing for a while now, and I am still unsure about how often I will write this pairing. (or if ever again) Well, here goes nothing. My mystery pairing and a Christmas party. 

***

Aiming too High - Tigraine Cousland x Alistair Theirin - Dragon Age AU - Fluffy goodness - 1,907 words

***

It wasn’t the first time he’d thought it would have been best for him to remain an unwanted orphan. Getting pulled into the glitzy, glamorous world of Maric Theirin, his father and King of Ferelden, had marvelous opportunity; but, the moments like this left a bad taste in his mouth. Here he was, dressed up in fine clothing and being fawned over by vapid lords and ladies, yet all he could think about was how the money spent to make his attire could have gone to fund repairs in the alienage, and how much food these nobles would waste tonight. The whispers might be right after all, ‘You could take the boy out of the stable, but you couldn’t take the stable out of the boy.’

Sure, he had fine manners and a proper education, Maric had seen to that; but, he would never be able to turn a blind eye to the injustice and suffering of others. His lot was not much different once, he was only where he was now due to an accident of birth. After Queen Rowan passed, his life changed drastically. Her dying command was for his elevation. She convinced her husband and brother that no child should be misused as he had been. A shame he would never get to thank her properly, it would have been nice to have a mother.

It had been years since that day, and while he still had no intentions on the throne, he hoped to make changes for the better. Prayed that Calian would see him as competent, and able advisor, he’d do a better job than Eamon. That man was severely out of touch with reality, couldn’t understand those oppressed. Alistair Theirin may be a Prince of Ferelden now, but he had once been less than nothing. He would never forget his beginnings, those who noticed him when he had not been worth their time.

The bard continued to play beautiful music to accompany the King’s Firstfall Masquerade Celebration. Decorations and ladies alike twinkled, catching the light from torches burning in the Great Hall. He had done his duty and danced with every eligible, but not too important, daughter Maric lined up for him. He was charming, delightful, and bored out of his mind. Nathaniel Howe teased kindly about his father wielding him like a marriageable conquest before he too was shoved onto the dance floor by his mother.

He was in the middle of a turn on the floor with Mistress Somebody-or-Other from the Bann of Elsewhere when it happened. He’d waited all night for Teyrn Cousland and his family to be announced, though he had attempted to not seem too obvious. Calian needled him about his supposed obsession with Tigraine Cousland. He denied it emphatically because a union with her was aiming too high for the bastard son of the king, but he would never pass up an chance to spend time with her.

The only daughter of Bryce Cousland had been wild, impetuous, untamable, and she befriended a stable boy, damn the gossip. Their last meeting had been at least three years ago now, and he’d read every book, seen every play she mentioned. He was ready to compare notes and listen to everything she had to offer. If he could make her laugh, he would consider this night to be a success.

He tried his hardest to steer his partner in the direction of the entrance, but she would not have it. As frequently as she mentioned how dashing Calian looked, he wished he could waltz her in his direction and be done with her. With each movement he searched for his friend, she would be 19 or so now, her hair was dark, her eyes a sunlight forest, but he could not place her anywhere in the crowd. The song ended, he led Lady Calian-Worshiper back to her entourage. He thanked her for the dance, hardly waited for her response, before turning and wading through the throng of people.

She wasn’t anywhere in sight. The Maker damn his luck, she was likely already hiding in a library or out in the garden despite the cold already setting in. She wasn’t one for parties, hated the attention she garnered just for being the daughter of a Teyrn.

He made ready to depart, to search for her until morning if need be when a young lady stepped next to him. The bodice of her dress a deep green, shimmering gold vines spread outward, but the sleeves caused him to take a second look. Her arms looked bare, yet the green and gold leaves twinned around the sheer fabric. Her mask a golden intricate work boasting more leafs, jewels in strategic places-the corners of her eyes, along the brow line and antlers stabbing proudly upward. The lady looked like a woodland goddess.  She faced the same direction as him, her full cream colored skirt brushing against his legs, scanning the crowd as if she too was looking for someone. “I believe I am next on your dance card, your Highness.”

“Why, yes, of course,” he replied coolly, inwardly cursing his delayed escape. “I would be honored to lead you in this dance.”

She took his hand delicately, and followed him out to the ballroom floor. He was still looking about, remembering his goal when the stringed instruments began a slow tune. His newest partner stifled a laugh, and for a moment he felt bad for ignoring her. “You seem to be very interested in the people of the court, your Highness. Is something the matter?”

“No, I apologize. I have such terrible manners. I was raised by dogs you know.”

“I had heard rumors, but one never can be certain with gossip.” Her voice took on a playful aire, one he was sure he’d heard before.

Taking a closer look at the maiden in his arms he looked past the gold plated mask and noticed the striking color of her eyes. Deep, glittering hazel eyes. They were full of wisdom, laughter, and looked as though they were holding a secret. He’d been staring too long, she probably suspected he was slow now, clearing his throat he focused on the lovely girl in front of him, “To be honest, my lady, I am looking for someone. A friend I have not seen in some time.”

She turned then, as if helping him seek his lost companion. Her elegant profile, coloring, the curve of her mouth all spoke of familiarity to him, but he could not place her. Surely he had encountered her at one of the King’s many gatherings, that was all. “I wonder if I could assist you? Would you tell me the name of your friend, or is it a mystery?” She smiled again giving him an overwhelming feeling that he’d seen this particular woman smile just this way.

“I am looking for Tigraine Cousland, do you know her?” he attempted, feeling himself foolish for playing along.

“Lady Cousland, surely she is hiding away. I hear she despises company.”

“I beg your pardon, but she despises nothing. It is true she cares little for extravagant showings such as this, but she is kind and generous. I was hoping to greet her before she became distracted with a large, dusty tome.”

The young lady laughed again, traced her hand from where it had been resting at his elbow up to his shoulder giving it a squeeze, “I meant no offense, your Highness. Perhaps I should let you find her before she finds another stable boy to befriend. Though I doubt she would find one so willing to defend her honor as you just did.”

“How did you...” his hands clenched at the small of her back, fingers gripping the her corset. A small part of his mind realizing he should let go, the placement unseemly, another part registering the soft feel of the satin laces.

“A friend so kind as to insist she was funny, perfect, brilliant, and more than worth the time of the first haughty boy who snubbed her. He called me “horse girl!’ Do you remember?”

“Rainie? Is it really you?” he wondered aloud, sounding more the fool than he’d even been in his life. Here he was looking for his friend, and she’d been scant inches from him for an entire dance!

“Oh, my sweet, Alistair, you haven’t changed a bit. Though you are looking quite fetching in the trappings of a royal, I much prefer you covered in straw.”

He lifted her then, spinning her in a circle, not caring for the glares and shocked gasps of the court. “Maker, you have changed so much. I didn’t even recognize you!”

The song came to an end, and Alistair hadn’t moved, still holding her closely despite her full skirts, much closer than would be proper had he been thinking clearly. He couldn’t force himself to move knowing that someone new would be waiting for him at the edge of the dance floor. “Yes, I’m a far cry from the gangly 16-year-old horse girl. Mother even got me into a proper gown. Can you believe she let me wear something so fanciful? I was sure she would pick something more...” she gestured out towards the other ladies all wearing similar, safe choices.

This time she led him off the floor, and he followed like a love struck puppy. The dress was lovely, enchanting forest goddess indeed. The small jewels sprinkled on it caught the light in the most becoming way, she looked like a fantasy come true. “Yes, that must be it,” he replied thickly swallowing the lump forming in his throat, “the dress. If you’d been in torn trousers, streaked in dirt I would have known it was you on the spot.”

She laughed, the sound just as wonderful as he remembered, and though she looked different, ashamed at his forward thoughts, more womanly, she was still the same and he was glad of it. A nearby woman coughed lightly and when she had his attention declared herself his next partner. Tigraine did not miss a beat, she removed her ornate mask, smiled kindly at the stranger and sweetly refused her, “I am sorry, but you must be mistaken. Prince Alistair is on my dance card for the remainder of the evening.”

The woman began to huff in disbelief but his companion continued, broaching no argument, “King Maric promised father I would have him to myself for the rest of the ball. I do not believe you would wish to cause the displeasure of Teyrn Cousland or His Majesty King Maric, now would you?”

Tigraine stood her ground, playing the spoiled daughter of a nobleman, looking breathtaking and the picture of innocence when the woman muttered her apologies and walked away. Once they were alone again, she giggled pressing her fingers to her upturned mouth, eyes burning with mischief, “Blessed Andraste, it looks like our evening was just freed up.”

She grabbed his hand and directed him towards the castle proper, tucking her arm securely in his while whispering plans about fetching kitchen supplies and hiding the rest of the night away in the library with just him and books for company. The only clear thought he had, as she stole his heart without knowing it, was that he would follow this woman anywhere she wanted to take him, even if he was aiming for the stars.

[thewhump]

Ooone mooore?? Royalty AU. Prince Tony, King Howard being his abusive bastard self. Our army boys as knights - Rhodey, Bucky, Steve, Sam. And then Bucky notices that Howard is abusive and Bucky has a crush on Tony? Maybe Tony gets in trouble with his father for sneaking into the forges and inventing and tinkering, getting dirty like a peasant. Protective Rhodey being suspicious at first that Bucky just wants to get laid, but approving when he notices Bucky is genuinely worried??

This ended up as something completely different to be honest but I hope you still enjoy it despite that. Also it’s kind of long so here’s a tease and the fic can be found on ao3 here.

***

Consciousness returned slowly. There was an overwhelming pain everywhere, and cold and Tony tried to allow darkness to keep him warm for another moment, but he couldn’t. There was an annoying repetitive sound of water droplets next to him, and he shivered, finally dragging his eyes open.

He realized with a jolt the terrifying reality of his situation, hands jerking against restraints, and he looked up to notice he had been tied with a rope, hands above his head, inside some sort of a cave, and the water were droplets constantly tapped against the stone as they fell from the cave ceiling.

He was trapped. He was left in some cave to die because...

A freezing cold droplet his the nape of his neck and he shivered, suddenly feeling like crying.

His parents were dead. His parents were dead and Obie told him Lady Virginia killed them... No. No, aunt Pepper would never do that! It was Obie. It had to be Obie. He didn’t look sorry when he told Tony about the assassination, and he was there when Tony was knocked out. It had to be Obie who trapped him here.

Another shiver shook his body and Tony realized he was still in just his light nightshirt, freezing water and the walls of the cave harsh on his body. He would be sick after this. He knew he would. Years of training and taking weirdly coloured potions helped but Tony was still quick to catch a cold.

Not that it would matter. If Tony didn’t get out of here, cold would be the least of his problems when he either froze to death, starved or... Shit, drowned. Tony shifted and realized, as his foot fell into the water, that in the darkness he didn’t see his situation clear enough.

Now, as his eyes adjusted, he noticed there was a large pond in front of him, and to the side he could see a stream falling into it. Tony’s heart started beating rapidly as he struggled with the ropes, but they were tight and secured to a hook embedded deep in the rock.

The only thing Tony achieved was cut himself on the metal of the hook, hissing in pain, as he noticed his feet were now really cold, fully under the water. He looked carefully around the cave, trying to make sure, but he realized it was indeed as he suspected - the water was rising.

He needed to free himself and do it fast, or he would drown, and above all, even if he managed to free himself before that, his chances of finding an exit would get smaller. He started yanking at the ropes with vicious force, uncaring of the pain in his wrists, hoping the rusty metal that drew blood from his skin would manage to weaken the rope too. He tried to scream a few times but only echo and quiet, constant sound of water answered him. The droplets and the soft hum of the stream, both soothing yet horrifying.

Obie... His thoughts suddenly strayed away, his focus disappearing as his body grew more tired, and suddenly a broken sob escaped. He didn’t want to think about it, but now it hit him and he shivered both from cold water reaching his waist by now and emotions.

His parents were dead and Aunt Pepper was gone... somewhere. Maybe trapped like he was, somewhere else. Obie usurped the throne, probably put his own son in Tony’s place. Obie always loved to tell him that Justin was his age and it’s not like anyone knew his face.

Obie took his country, his family... Why not let him take his life too?

No. No, there was something Obie couldn’t take from Tony. He would never have Bucky. And Tony? Tony had to make it back to his boyfriend. Bucky would help. Bucky would make it better. Bucky was still alive, still there, and Tony just wanted to hug him.

He tore at the ropes with renewed force, happy to realize that his wrists started slowly slide through them, the knot weakening and the blood making his skin slick. The water was reaching his chest when he managed to slip one wrist out, quickly freeing himself, but he wasn’t sure how to get out.

Looking around, he noticed, with a sinking realization, that the only opening was actually up. He would have to wait, still freezing, in the water, relying on himself to keep floating and not loose strength, until he could grasp a ledge up there.

He was so tired it took him several tries by the time the water was high enough, and he was sure he would fall dead there and then, unsure how to make it back to the city with his body screaming in pain, clothing thin and wet.

He didn’t even know where he was exactly but he focused on marching on, trying to follow his instincts until he finally found a way out. He cried in happiness when he recognized the part of the forest and dragged his feet in the direction of the town gates.

Sneaking in was harder in his exhausted state but he’d done it often enough to manage. It was better than risk questions or finding out if the guards had orders from Obie should any of them recognize him.

He was ready to collapse. Every step became harder the closer he was. It made no sense but it was all just too much. Tony didn’t think about the silent lines of tears on his cheeks, just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. He let out a sob as noticed Bucky’s little house, practically a hut with one one room partitioned down the middle by Bucky's own structural ideas to make some private space for Stevie.

Tony practically collapsed against the door, hitting against the door with urgency, praying for Bucky to hear him and open.

„Whoever the fuck you are you better--”

Whatever Bucky planned to say died on his lips as Tony literally fell into the house the moment the door opened.

„Tony?!”

***

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[littlemisssquiggles]

RWBY Musings #40: A Squiggle Meister’s Views on Jaune and the Arc Family

Anon-ninja asked

“ on jaunes similarities to jon snow I have to point out that jon snow is from the north ( and ned stark was lord of winterfell) Jaune has mentioned he has seven sisters a few times through out the series. The Seven Sisters is another name for the Pleiades star cluster, which is named after the seven daughters of Atlas so jaune is actually from atlas/mantle but just visited mistral like they had friends there (and considering the theory that jaunes ancestor was the king of vale what if  instead his ancestor was the king of mistral). you know jon snows father ned stark (in the books it was never stated that his father wasnt ned stark) was the lord of winterfell and he was raised in the north and the pleiades which are also called the seven sisters constellation are the 7 daughters of atlas and jaune has 7 sisters you know weiss is based on snow white who is woken up from a death like sleep by her prince charming true love kiss and jaune saved weiss from a near death experience by amplifying her aura with his own . oh and if jaune and weiss get together and he takes her name he will be jaune schnee or jaune snow which soundss like jon snow ( funny enough both jacques and jaune have french first names”

Squiggles Answers:

Okay anon-chan. You’ve made your point very clear XD. But fair enough and good show on that knowledge, you got there. Nice!  

If Jaune is originally from Atlas, that would make a boat load of sense. Back in V2, Jaune did mention hearing Weiss sing before when he was describing why he liked her. I’m not sure if the Schnee Dust Company hosted any charity concerts outside of Atlas in other parts of Remnant. The only time we’ve seen Weiss perform is on her home turf. If Jaune is Atlesian or at least from that side of Remnant then that would explain how he was able to hear her perform.

I find it interesting that so far in the series, Jaune is the only character to recognize Weiss for her singing talents. My wild guess is that he probably saw her perform once live in person at a concert hosted by the Schnee Dust Company and that’s when he first became enthralled by our veteran ice queen.

Wouldn’t be too shocked if Jaune also frequented some of those concerts just so he can see Weiss. Do you know what’d be cute? If after one concert when he was younger, Jaune brought Weiss some flowers that he had planned to give to her backstage? The idea was to give it to her in person but he never got the chance to since he was immediately stopped by security. So instead the flowers were tossed aside with a random set of gifts that Jacques Schnee probably ordered to be discarded. However Klein or whichever designated butler or caretaker was overseeing Weiss at the time managed to snag one of the gifts for Weiss before it was permanently hauled in the trash and it was the one from Jaune. Though Weiss never learnt who the flowers were from (since Jaune never revealed his name; just said her was a secret admirer or something like that), she remembered cherishing Jaune’s flowers the most since the young white knight had also taken the liberty of leaving her a little letter secretly hidden with his gift. The letter not only voiced little Jaune’s praises and admiration for Weiss and her talents, but also wished her all the best with her life, filling the girl with a pleasant sense of encouragement. Weiss cherished that letter the most because it had been what helped cheer her up following another miserable experience where her mother was absent from her concert (again) so it was just her and her father. And his company was never quite pleasant. They didn’t even share the same limo as Jacques would always have the family chauffeur take Weiss home while he took another to entertain privileged guests.

I think it’d be pretty sweet if Weiss and Jaune shared a little history like this. It’d be good for Weiss ultimately or hopefully at least, warming up to Jaune; finally seeing that he’s a good young man rather than the nuisance he used to be back in previous seasons.

Y’know this makes me wonder something about Jaune now. Is his family rich? Like considered Atlesian upper class? So far, according to RWBY, the only people to have seen Weiss perform in person are the Atlesian elite or at least that’s how it appears.

So...if Jaune’s family name: Arc is supposedly of upper class by Atlas standards, then shouldn’t his last name be known like the Schnee Family? I’m curious now. All fans know about Jaune thus far is that he has seven sisters, shares a huntsman ancestral background and that his great-great-grandfather fought in the Great War using the weapon that Jaune later inherited.

What if...Jaune had a Sofia the First moment where his father, a huntsman originally born in Mantle, remarried into Atlesian upper-class?

So Arc is in fact the family name from Jaune’s paternal side of the family while his new mom---his stepmom carries a surname that is a possible staple in the Atlas community. Perhaps not as well-known as the Schnees but still right up there with the rich and elite? It would be pretty cool if Jaune had a Fred from Big Hero 6 moment where it was later revealed to his friends that his family were rich and well-endowed. However in Jaune’s case, it would be more like his stepmother and his sisters were rich and well-endowed whereas he was always more of the runt of the litter, since he was the only child to not be biologically born to his stepmother.  It’s certainly another way to tie Jaune’s character with John Snow, since Jon was originally believed to be the rejected bastard child of the noble Starks when in actuality he’s the true heir to the Iron Throne. Jaune already comes from a noble family of strong huntsmen; at least on his father’s side as he presumed. It’d be funny if he’s also secretly as rich as Weiss, thanks to his stepmom, but never brought it up. But this is just me speculating here. 

Jaune’s Sisters

‘...The next town is Shion. My family used to visit there all the time!’ ....Oh yeah, don’t you have like four sisters? ... Er...Seven.’

Y’know I used to think that Jaune was the youngest born of his siblings, hence why it was so easy for him to be the target for teasing from his sisters. But...what if... Jaune is the middle child of his family. In looking back at earlier seasons, especially during the scenes where the topic of Jaune’s sisters was brought up, it was never actually confirmed if Jaune’s sisters were older or younger. As a matter of fact, each time the sisters are mentioned, it’s always with an air of ambiguity. No real specification of age.

‘...Over there is the great hiking trail and over there is where we went camping all the time. I got my own tent because I was special. Also so my sisters would stop braiding my hair...’

‘...Who knew being annoying could actually come in handy?’ ....I grew up with seven sisters. It was my only defense...’

Since the story never specifies, I’m gonna assume it’s a mix. Jaune is literally the ‘Malcolm in the Middle’. He’s the Special Boy because firstly, he’s the only boy child of eight children. Secondly he’s most likely the fifth eldest kid in the bunch and lastly, and this is mostly me feeding more into my earlier theory, Jaune is the only child from his father’s first marriage.  

My hunch is that Jaune’s sisters are actually a mix of step sisters and half sisters that he gained after Papa Arc remarried. Since Ruby mentioned the number four when she first talked about Jaune’s sisters, let’s say when Jaune’s dad married his second wife, Jaune gained four older sisters who were his stepmother’s children from her last marriage. Later, Papa Arc and Stepmommy Arc had three more daughters after Jaune. So in actuality, Jaune has four older stepsisters and three younger half sisters with him being the middle man and only boy. Now again, this is just me speculating here to further emphasize my presumption but...who knows? Could be a possibility? There’s still a lot of mystery to Jaune’s family tree left to be discovered so yeah, who knows.  

If Jaune is eventually revealed to hail from Atlas, it’d be awesome because it could give the gang a potential nice place to stay when they arrive in Atlas. Plus it’d be a really, really nice way for us to finally meet Jaune’s family and his infamous seven sisters at long last. The Seven Daughters of Atlas indeed.

Y’know while other RWBY theorists have been imagining Jaune’s sisters to be badass huntresses, am I the only one who’s just picturing them all each as pampered princesses; spoiled by the Atlesian lifestyle. Not so spoiled that they’re pompous and annoying but enough that they consider the huntsman lifestyle, as Whitley put it, ‘far too barbaric and hostile’ for their tastes. It’d be interesting if Jaune sisters, particularly the older ones, never desired to become huntresses due to the dangers of such a lifestyle. It’d be interesting if it’s revealed that Jaune’s sisters constantly worry for their brother’s safety due to him choosing to become a huntsman like their stepfather and his side of the family. But after seeing their brother in action against a Grimm, Jaune inspires, perhaps his younger sisters or at least one of them to become a huntress. Maybe? But that’s my view of the Arc Sisters. Everyone’s got their own. 

Jaune’s Parents

Suppose... Jaune shares a very close bond to his father and to some extent, even his sisters (despite their tendency to tease him a lot as the only boy child). However Jaune has a somewhat strained relationship with his step-mother. 

Not in the sense that his step mother is a wicked woman who constantly treats Jaune like an outsider and stain on her family household but more in the sense that his step-mom strongly desires to be a great mom to Jaune but doesn’t really know how. And while the two do get along well, Jaune has never been able to connect to his stepmother emotionally due to him still harbouring some emotions about losing his real mother at a young age. And despite his stepmother’s efforts to fill that void in his life, Jaune never calls her ‘mom’. He always refers to her as his ‘step-mom’; even in the many long years since their families united. 

Since we’re comparing Jaune Arc to Jon Snow, I don’t want Jaune to be a bastard child of his family or have a mother figure that hates him; like in the case of Catelyn Stark. 

I know in Game of Thrones, Catelyn Stark was pretty much a bitch to Jon. That being said, I don’t want that to be the case for Jaune. If he does indeed have a stepmother, it’d be refreshing to see a parent-child dynamic where the step parent actually tries to connect with their stepchild. Of all her children, Stepmommy Arc has always struggled with her bond with Jaune since he was the only child from her second husband’s first marriage. Not to mention that Jaune always kind of felt that his stepmother didn’t like him when in fact it was a misunderstanding.

So far in RWBY, Blake is the only known character with both her parents still in the story and actually happily married.

A nice way to highlight a comparison between Weiss and Jaune is to indicate the possible similarities between their families. Again, I understand this is merely just a theory of mine but it would be mighty fascinating if part of Jaune’s family, at least on his new mother’s side, is very prestige in the Atlas community. So both Jaune and Weiss will share family members who married into wealth.

Though unlike Jacques, Jaune’s dad actually remarried his stepmother for the right reasons. It’d be a nice way of showing Weiss what her family could’ve been if her father wasn’t such a jackass or, as the FNDM likes to call him, a JACQUES-ASS!

It’d be nice if we got another Atlesian family in the series where the marriage considered of an outsider being courted into higher class society but out of love rather than the pursuit of power. I’d love to see the kind of father Jaune’s dad is.

He certainly seems like the family man type since Jaune mentioned him taking the entire family camping in Shion Village frequently back in V4. It’d be interesting to see if Papa Arc contrasts Jacques Schnee in the sense that he’s the Ned Stark to his...whelp, I guess,Jacques Schnee is more the RWBY equivalent of Cersi Lannister from GOT in terms of their conniving wit and just how low both characters will stoop to get what they want, right?

A Gift from a King

Lastly to conclude my long-ass reply, I’ll answer your point on Jaune's ancestor. Yeah...I don’t think Jaune's great-great grandfather was the King of Vale or the King of Mistral or even a king at all for that matter.

If anything Jaune's ancestor was most likely a revered huntsman whose bravery and strength during the Great War was remembered as he probably helped to shape it and lead Remnant into a new era of peace between the Four Kingdoms. Remember the statue in the Beacon Academy courtyard? The one of the huntsman, huntress and the Grimm? The same one that Jaune was seen looking at back in the V1 opening? 

I could be wrong about this but I think the heroic huntsman immortalized in stone in that statue might've been Great-Great Grandpapi Arc. Or at least reminded Jaune of him and the lineage of strength he was expected to uphold.

It'd be exciting if Jaune bared some similarities to his great-great grandfather in his youth.

Like perhaps Jaune has always perceived Great-Great Grandpapi Arc to be this powerful warrior prodigy from the get go based on all the tall tales he heard about him growing up.

However what if...in his teenage years, when he was about Jaune’s age at the start of RWBY, Great-Great Grandpapi Arc was a scraggly-looking young kid who desired to become a brave huntsman but lacked the talent and formal training. It was then when he met the King of Vale who later became his first friend and mentor. Under the King’s tutelage, Jaune’s great-great grandfather was transformed from an incompetent fighter to a strong huntsman worthy of fighting for his kingdom in the Great War.    As a result of their friendship as his pupil, the King eventually presented young Great-Great Grandpapi Arc with a weapon upon successfully completing his training. The weapon was a sword and shield---Crocea Mors, as the King christened it, which the man proclaimed suited the young Arc lad perfectly as he believed he would go on to do amazing things for his Kingdom with such a weapon in his arsenal. And as we all know, Great-Great Grandpapi Arc fought in the Great War wielding Crocea Mors as his trademark weapon of choice. That's my theory. I think Crocea Mors was gift from the King of Vale to Jaune’s ancestor.

I’d also love to think that Great-Great Grandpapi Arc originally fought alongside the King of Vale in the Great War; adding to my hunch that they were once comrades in arms. 

It's very easy for the Arc Family to have ties to Vale on Jaune’s father's side of the family. However he can also have ties to Atlas too. Y'know in the event that his dad did marry a woman from Atlas?

I really want the concept of Jaune Arc being half Valiant / half Atlesian and/or mostly raised in Atlas to become canon now. I like it because not only could it give us another character with ties to the Kingdom besides Weiss but as I mentioned before, it’s another way to pinpoint some similarities between the two and help strength the White Knight friendship. 

But that's just me.

♦ More RWBY Musings by Squiggles

~LittleMissSquiggles (2018)